#I’ve been thinking about gifting myself ED for my birthday

[museenkuss]

I’ve been thinking about cold weather perfume memories lately, so here are a few:

the 10am class I had that took place in the lecture/cinema room of a museum. The plush seats, the cold, the excellent outfits I wore (a lightweight, ankle length dark blue down coat comes to mind, underneath heeled boots, a miniskirt and a turtleneck) and, always, Addict by Dior. Those cool mornings, the click of my heels and the plush seats as we discussed modern art will hopefully always be seared into my mind.

a terrible day I had that was saved by refrigerated to go oat milk coffee, sparkly lipgloss, pink chewing gum, a white puffy jacket and the matching sugared red fruits of ANGEL by Mugler.

trying Mon Guerlain right after having bought a pair of dark blue faux suede gloves (with I think a knit top? Beige/dark blue tartan print. Also a dark blue headband to match). My mother hated it, I also wasn’t very impressed, but I remember how I kept sniffing it on the gloves as we went on shopping — and later on, I’d fish the glove out of my pocket to have another sniff.

wearing Chanel Allure EDP for my job. Not a very happy memory, I have to admit, but I almost exclusively connect the scent to rushing to my work place and always being stressed and a little anxious (but nicely dressed). I need to wear it somewhere special to replace those memories.

On a more autumn-note, I remember trying Eau Duelle by Diptyque on a blotter and being so enamoured with it. “This is the pretty girl on the underground who everyone envies just a little” — I kept it in the pocket of my light coat, and finding it months later, it still had the barest hint of that scent.

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 16 - Let's Hear It for the Boy

IN THIS CHAPTER: Science fiction double feature, rotten eggs, and Eddie turns 20 [12.2k]

WARNINGS: bullying (mentions of racism and fatphobia), childhood trauma (hair trauma, child neglect, toxic masculinity), one use of a homophobic slur (f-word), mild spoilers for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Exorcist (specific mentions of the crucifix scene, if you've seen the movie, you know what this is about)

A/N: shout out to my one and only @gutterratt for helping me figure out my way through old horror movies! i'm a wuss so i relied heavily on her opinions to make this work (also read a few entire scripts and scared myself lmao). thank you for being the best teacher i could have asked for. 10 more days until i get to hug the shit out of you <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off-key But that's all right by me, yeah

Thursday, May 15th - 1986

On Eddie’s 20th birthday it rained cats and dogs. There was a light shower during the early morning which stopped at around 10 only to come back with a vengeance after lunch, and by the time the school day had ended, the weather was warm and humid with a sky-obscuring fog that made it seem like it was much later than it actually was. Eddie, as he always did when it rained, offered to take Gareth home so he gave his friend his keys and asked him and Dottie to wait in the van while he finished up a private conversation with Mrs. Vaughn, his Drawing teacher. She was quite impressed with how his portfolio was shaping up, and wanted to know more about the subjects he’d chosen to portray in his art. Some talks were meant to be kept behind closed doors.

Gareth left Dottie at her locker where she was fighting to fit Eddie’s birthday present in her backpack without absolutely destroying the muffin she’d baked for him during Home Ec and headed towards the parking lot to wait for his friends in the safety of the van. Dottie had barely managed to zip up her backpack when a pair of pink sneakers came up to where she was kneeling.

“Do you need help?” a warm, melodic voice asked.

Dottie looked up to find Chrissy Cunningham, the current Queen of Hawkins High, smiling at her like they’d known each other for years. She wasn’t wearing her full cheerleading uniform that day; instead she had chosen cuffed jeans and a lovely cream blouse, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Wow, Dottie thought without an ounce of shame for ogling. She’s gorgeous. Realizing she had been staring up at the kind (almost) stranger, she quickly stood and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, no, thank you! I’ve got it,” Dottie said, and Chrissy smiled even wider if it was even possible.

“You’re Dottie Burke, right? We’re in World History together, you sit with Jeff Patton two seats in front of me?”

“Yup, that’s me! And you’re Chrissy Cunningham, you sit with, um, Melissa?”

“Yes, Melissa Levine,” the blonde’s eyes brightened up, pleased that this conversation was going smoothly. “I know you’re best friends with Eddie so could you give this to him for me?”

Chrissy presented a shiny green gift bag to her. It was carefully sealed with a big transparent sticker from the store where it had been purchased from and a huge silvery bow was tied to the handles. Of all the things she had been expecting her to pull out behind her back, a birthday gift for Eddie hadn’t been in her Top 10 List at all.

“Are you sure? He’ll come back in a sec if you want to give it to him yourself, he’s just talking to a teacher.”

“Yeah, I think he already knows what it is,” Chrissy waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’d wait for him but my boyfriend is in the car already so…”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I can give this to Ed for you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, you’re so nice!” she said, beaming at her. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strong, Eddie said we’d get along so I thought “well, what am I waiting for”, right?”

“You’re fine, seriously,” Dottie laughed; Chrissy’s bubbly energy was contagious. “He told me we’d get along too. Something about you liking Queen and owning all the records?”

“Yes! Gosh, I love Queen! Do you? We should hang out sometime, we can listen to them together.”

“Absolutely, yes. I’d love that.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, sure! Have fun on your date!”

“How did you know I’m going on a date?” Chrissy said, mild intrigue on her face.

“You just look really pretty and you mentioned your boyfriend so I thought you might be going on a date with him,” Dottie explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I like your makeup.”

“Oh,” she said, stopping for a moment.

Chrissy wasn’t a stranger to people telling her she was pretty. She had grown up going to pageants and being paraded as a doll by her mother but the compliments were always the same and regarding things she didn’t care about, like how big her Mom had teased her hair, and how thin she looked like in that formal gown. No one had ever told her something she did for herself, like her daily makeup, was pretty. She gave Dottie a big toothy smile, genuine and warm.

“Thank you! I like your dress!”

“Thanks, it was my Mom’s. It has pockets!” the brunette said, shoving a hand inside the left pocket of her short black jumper dress to demonstrate.

“I love that! Not enough dresses have pockets, it’s a shame.”

They said their goodbyes again and Chrissy disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dottie to consider that maybe she really did need more girl friends. She loved her Hellfire boys, and of course Erica was great, but she had missed the kind of special warmth female friendships gave - the gentle toughness she’d always admired in her Aunts’ actions. Now that she knew what a real friend was supposed to look like thanks to the guys, she realized that whatever she had thought Jeannie was during her life in New York hadn’t exactly been a good example of true friendship. Dottie wondered if, given enough time, Chrissy could become a real friend. She was, after all, good friends with Eddie already and he seemed like a fine judge of character so far.

“You ready to bounce?” Eddie asked, hurrying down the hallway to where she was still standing.

“Yeah! This is for you, by the way,” Dottie said, giving him the gift bag. “It’s from Chrissy.”

“Chris- damnit, I told her not to do it,” he shook his head, a fond smile gracing his face. He accepted the bag and shoved it inside his backpack to protect it from the rain; he had a pretty good idea of what it was but he’d look at it once they were home. “Come on, let’s go.”

He guided Dottie towards the parking lot with a hand on the back of her bag, keeping her close as they ran out into the rain and towards the dry seats of his van. They were almost there when Eddie noticed someone curled into themselves near the furthest column that supported the overhang roof at the entrance, a figure huddled up on the floor wearing what looked like Gareth’s red plaid shirt. He looked at his van and saw instantly that his friend was not sitting inside waiting for them, and the vehicle wasn’t even on. What the fuck, he thought bitterly, taking note that the door on the driver’s side was covered in what looked like a runny viscous liquid. The rain was washing it away, but the white and light brown shells on the floor were enough to confirm his suspicions. Switching gears quickly, he pulled Dottie under his arm and guided her towards Gareth.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking up at him, arm up trying to keep the rain out of her face.

“Gareth!” he yelled for an answer, and the younger boy lifted his teary head up from his knees. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” Dottie exclaimed, rushing to their friend.

“They were waiting for Eddie. Said it was a birthday present,” he sniffed, lifting his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve and putting it down instantly when he saw it was filthy. He smelled like rotten eggs.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Eddie said, crouching next to him.

“Not your fault,” Gareth shrugged. “You always cover for me so… guess it was time I covered you for once.”

“This has happened before?” Dottie asked, and both boys looked at her like it was common sense. “Who- who did this to you? How many times?”

“It isn’t always eggs,” Gareth sniffed again. “One time they threw mud at Donny, called him a pig. Gave Dustin a swirly a couple of times but they don’t touch Mike anymore since they found out Nancy Wheeler is his sister. Andy is the worst, he, um-” he interrupted himself and looked at Eddie.

“Andy Humphrey,” Eddie sighed. “He put a bunch of racist notes in Jeff’s locker for a couple of months last year. We saw him doing it but Higgins didn’t do shit about it. He’s on the basketball team, always wears that stupid hat.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Dottie said. “He’s in my AP Spanish class, he’s barely passing. He cheated on our last pop quiz, he knows I saw because he winked at me like he was trying to get me on his side.”

“Almost everyone on the basketball team sucks,” Gareth said. “I don’t know what Lucas is doing with them.”

“Lucas?”

“Lucas Sinclair. Erica’s brother?” Eddie explained. “He used to play with us before he decided being a freak wasn’t good enough for him.”

“I mean… I don’t blame him. I smell like a sewer,” Gareth grimaced.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you home,” Dottie said, patting his knee to get him to stand up.

“I’ll just walk, I’m gonna get the van dirty.”

“No way, man, not in this thunderstorm. Get in the back,” Eddie instructed.

The three of them headed back to the van, the rain not relenting for a single second. On the bright side, Eddie’s door wasn’t dirty anymore, clean from the constant water streaming upon the metal. On the other hand, Gareth was soaked and shivering by the time he sat himself on a plastic crate at the back of the van, keeping himself away from the blankets and pillows, windows cracked open to let cool air in and rotten egg smell out. They drove to Gareth’s house in silence, only the occasional sniffling coming from the dirty boy wallowing in his own misery could be heard under the vehicle’s rumbling.

When they arrived and pulled up to Gareth’s garage, Eddie wasn’t expecting Dottie to get out too, leaving behind her backpack tucked under the co-pilot seat. He followed the pair to the front door, heard the keys tinkling against each other as his friends walked inside and hurried up to get out of the rain. In the foyer, Dottie peeled off her cardigan and sneakers before directing Gareth to his bathroom.

“Eddie, can you get a chair from the kitchen?” she asked, already pushing Gareth down the hallway.

Eddie complied with her request, bringing one of the aluminum chairs with pleather seats into the Jack and Jill that connected Gareth’s bedroom with his sister’s. Gareth was peeling his dirty sleeveless shirt and sweatshirt off his body, Dottie kneeling near his feet helping him take his rain soaked shoes off.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling softly at Eddie before looking up at Gareth. “You sit.”

“Why can’t I just take a shower?” he complained, but still sat down on the chair.

“Because you’re not only covered in gunk, there’s eggshells in your hair. Let me get them out and we’ll leave you to shower in peace, okay?” she pulled back the bath curtain and got his shampoo and conditioner, coming to stand next to the sink.

The birthday boy watched her work, carefully picking all the shells out of Gareth’s hair and throwing them into the pink waste bin that was hidden next to the toilet. She got rid of the knots in his hair with a glittery blue plastic comb that clearly belonged to Gretchen, wetting it with warm water between each pass. Eddie could feel something bubbling up his chest, but it wasn’t anything like the usual jealousy he swore he had stopped feeling days ago. No, this was something different, much more deep seated, clawing up his throat and threatening to tear his insides apart leaving no prisoners behind. This was something he’d been ignoring for a very long time, from before he even knew a Gareth Coleman or a Dorothy Burke. This padlock had been sealed shut with rust ages ago, the key long forgotten somewhere no one, not even Eddie, would find it anymore.

Dottie poured water on Gareth’s scalp with her hands, making him shiver once and then giggle at himself for his reaction. She worked the shampoo into his curls, pulling his hair once to make him wince when he made a stupid comment that Eddie wasn’t listening. He watched the suds fall into the pure white porcelain of the sink bowl as she washed them away with the utmost patience and care.

“You should be a hairdresser,” Gareth said, eyes closed while he relaxed into her touch.

“I could never. You know that smell when you walk into a salon? I fucking hate it,” she said, snorting at the end.

When was the last time Eddie had gone to a salon for a haircut? Not since living with Wayne, that’s for sure. The last time he’d had a haircut he hadn’t given himself in his own bathroom was back in middle school, when a neighbor buzzed all his hair off during that horrible lice outbreak he’d told Dottie about. He remembered that before he turned 12, before she passed away calmly in her sleep, his Grandma kept his hair rather short, like it had been that summer he’d spent in her care when he was eight. And before that… Eddie didn’t like to remember before that.

Dottie shook the bottle of conditioner until a small blob hit her palm and began weaving her fingers into Gareth’s curls. They were still chatting quietly, their long haired friend hovering in the hallway near the door. Eight years. Eight years since anyone had touched Eddie’s hair, since anyone that wasn’t himself had run a brush through his curls and snapped the damaged ends off with a pair of sharp scissors. He hated getting haircuts from his Grandma - not because she was bad at doing them, but because she always pulled at the knots a little bit too harshly, muttering about how boys with longer hair were unkempt and unruly. And Eddie loved his Grandma so much, and she loved him so much in return, but in those moments there was no denying that she was his father’s mother, and getting haircuts from her only reminded him of Wyatt Munson calling him a faggot because his curls reached the collar of his school shirt before he dropped him off at a cheap salon and returned five hours later, smelling of booze and nicotine and regrets.

Eddie used to feel so guilty whenever he went to the salon. Wyatt would treat him like absolute shit, and then he’d sob quietly in the chair while a middle aged lady told him things like “boys don’t cry” and “it’s just hair, kid, don’t be a brat”, only for Wyatt to return and ask her if she’d turned his little girl into a proper boy. A while back, when Eddie first got his driver’s license, he drove past that salon on his way to Donny’s family restaurant and felt like he’d won the damn lottery when he saw it had been closed for several years. Fuck that place, he’d thought and promptly sped up.

“Hey,” a hand touched his arm, making him jump lightly. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, blinking a few times and focusing on Dottie’s worried face in front of him. “I think I fell asleep for a second.”

“We’re done so… we can go now,” she said, not pushing him for an answer.

She’d seen that face on him before, back when they were arguing about his moldy ceiling, and immediately decided they weren’t going to have this conversation in front of Gareth. The younger boy had a small towel on his head like a nun’s headdress to stop his curls from dripping all over the floor as he gathered his dirty clothes and walked past them towards the laundry room.

“Sorry about all this,” said Gareth, standing under his front door’s frame.

“Wasn’t your fault, man. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” Eddie reassured him, waiting for Dottie to finish putting on her sneakers.

“Better me than you.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you pick the movie tomorrow? Anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Just… don’t pick anything stupid, okay? The Boogey Man sucked ass.”

“You have no fucking taste,” Gareth complained, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, hold on, are we gonna watch a horror film?” Dottie asked in the direction of the younger boy.

“It’s tradition, we always watch horror movies on our birthdays.”

“Can we not do that this time? You know I hate horror. We can do a thriller, that’s like… horror-adjacent, right?”

“Horror-adjac… Dude,” Gareth turned to Eddie, seeking an ally.

It’s not that Eddie was dying to watch a horror film, he really wasn’t. He was happy to watch whatever most of the time, like when Jeff had insisted on watching Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone for some weird reason and he’d gone along for the ride because, well, any movie was still a movie. Eddie loved stories, the more outlandish the better. He wasn’t about to complain about two hours of mindless entertainment, regardless of the subject of the VHS tape in the player. Caught between his two friends, one who looked at him with exasperation at even suggesting a change of plans and the other one with the cutest goddamned pout and rounded eyes he had ever seen, well, he was only human. If Jesus had stumbled, why wouldn’t he do it too?

“Maybe we can skip the horror this time,” he said.

“Come on, man, don’t let her peer-pressure you!”

“Peer-pressure? God, you’re such a little-”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Jesus,” Eddie lifted his hands, getting between them. “How about this? We do a double feature. You each pick one movie and you can’t complain about what the other one chooses, alright? It’s my birthday, don’t make me uninvite you.”

“But-”

“Take it or leave it, Gareth, it’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Gareth grumbled.

“Thank you,” Dottie said, still looking apprehensive but not wanting to push the argument further.

This was a tradition she hadn’t been a part of since its inception and she wasn’t going to fight her way in when they were so graciously holding the door open for her. Friends do stuff they don’t enjoy to make other friends happy sometimes, it’s okay. They’d do it for me. I’ll just… suck it up and watch the floor for two hours, she thought as they said their goodbyes and ran under the rain to get to Eddie’s van. He was excitedly going on about the cake Wayne had gotten for him on the way to the trailer, and Dottie couldn’t find it in herself to care about what horrifying movie Gareth was gonna subject her too when Eddie looked so happy to spend his special day with his Uncle and her.

“Wayne, we’re home!” Eddie yelled, trying to put his key in to open his front door.

Dottie was standing very still in front of Eddie, his chest to her back and arms on either side of her while he wrestled with his keys, shielding her from the storm with his body. The copious raindrops falling on them pinged off the leather jacket that was keeping him cozy and dry, soaking his hair that curtained Dottie’s head from above. She was holding both their backpacks against her chest, trying to protect them and their contents from the rain.

“Wayne!” he yelled again, hitting the door twice with his fist.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” the older man replied from the inside, hurrying up to let them in. "Where were you?"

"Got held up at school," said Eddie, guiding Dot in and closing the door quickly behind his back before shedding his wet jacket. "Talked to that teacher I told you about last night. She said I have talent."

"Coulda told you that myself," Wayne smiled at him, pulling his big boy into a hug and patting his back. "Happy birthday, Ed."

"Thanks, Wayne," Eddie melted into his Uncle. They didn't hug often, less so now that he wasn't a little kid anymore, but if you asked him, his Uncle Wayne gave the best hugs in the entire world because whenever he gave you one, he definitely meant it. "Can we have cake now?"

"Get the candles," Wayne jerked his head towards the kitchen where a set of barely used birthday candles were waiting in the bottom drawer ready to grant a new wish.

While Eddie busied himself putting the candles on a small chocolate cake, Dottie cleared the coffee table, setting his gifts on the floor. There were three presents: Chrissy's shiny green bag that had gotten a bit smushed in Eddie's backpack, a thin rectangle in bright blue paper, and a little package smaller than a hand. Wayne added two to the pile wrapped in the same red paper; one looked soft, the other one was a square box. Dottie's funfetti muffin ended up with its own candle next to the cake.

"Light me up, princess," Eddie said, pointing to a BIC lighter that had been abandoned in the coffee table bowl at some point.

"I can't," Dottie admitted, looking embarrassed. "I don't know how to use that kind of lighter, the flick thing scares me."

"The flick thing?"

"You know, the thingy you have to roll with your thumb? That scrapes something inside and sparks up?"

"The sparkwheel?"

"I don't know what it's called!" Eddie held back a grin. "Don't laugh at me, I don't like how close the spark is to the finger. It's a perfectly reasonable fear, I don't want to burn myself!"

"No, yeah, absolutely. You're totally right" he said, fighting a chuckle. God, she's so fucking cute. He reached into a kitchen drawer and retrieved a small matchbox. “Here, use these.”

“The Hideout,” she read aloud on the front of the box. “That’s where you guys play on Tuesdays, right?”

“Yeah, they have a big bowl of these on the bar. I grab a couple every few weeks, haven’t bought real matches in years.”

“Very smart,” she said, lighting the two candles at the same time Wayne found his old camera tucked away in their storage closet.

Eddie knelt in front of the coffee table, closing his eyes with only one wish in mind. Dottie and Wayne sang to him and he smiled, the sudden flash of the camera in his Uncle’s hands painting his eyelids pink for a brief second. His 19th birthday had been tainted with the knowledge that he was going to be held back for the second time in a row. Wayne had taken him to a diner that night; they’d gotten pancakes for dinner and Eddie had cried and apologized for being such a goddamn failure. The eldest Munson had simply let his tears dry before he’d said, very matter-of-factly: I didn’t finish high school, do you think I’m a failure? What’s important is that you keep tryin’ and see things through even if they get hard. Are you a quitter, Ed?

Please, let ‘86 be my year, Eddie thought as hard as he could, sending his prayer to the universe before he opened his eyes and blew both candles out with one single breath. Dottie clapped and hollered, making them laugh. Wayne nudged her side with his elbow, nodding once in his nephew’s direction.

“Come on, you two. Gimme a nice smile,” he lifted the camera again.

Dottie hurried to sit next to Eddie and he didn’t waste a second pulling her to him, cheeks pressed against each other’s. She smiled brightly, the muffin she’d made for him in her hands like a delicate flower, and his arms around her waist, tongue out in a funny face. Wayne committed the memory to film before Dottie lifted herself up onto her knees, making grabby hands at him, Eddie still holding onto her.

“I’ll take one of you two, Mr. Wayne!” she offered.

“How about we take a group picture?” he said, sitting on the couch behind them and turning the camera around.

The two teens huddled up at his feet, his nephew giving him instructions to frame everyone better (“You gotta go higher, Wayne, half your head will be out of the picture!”). After the flash went off, Dottie went to find a knife to cut the cake while Eddie tore into his gifts, starting with Wayne’s packages. He seemed to already know what the soft looking one was, but still ripped the paper with gusto, a childlike glint in his eyes.

Wayne’s gifts had clearly been picked from a thrift shop, but that didn’t damp Eddie’s excitement in the slightest. He thanked his Uncle profusely for his two new shirts and boxy jean shorts for the summer before moving onto the mystery box which turned out to be a thermos flask with a slightly faded Snoopy print.

“No way!” he said, gleefully. “I’ve been trying to get one of these for ages!”

“I know,” Wayne said, proudly. “Heard you yappin’ about it so I asked Loretta to hold one for me if she ever saw them. Said they got a few of them a couple of months ago so I went and snatched one for you.”

“A couple of months ago? Where did you hide it all this time?”

“Under the seat in my truck,” he laughed, and Dottie was reminded once again of how similar the Munson men truly were.

“Gonna start checking down there around Christmas,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. He passed the flask to Dottie to examine who traded it for a plate of cake.

“This is really cute, Mr. Wayne. Wish mine was pretty like this one.”

“You got one of these?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my Grandpa gave me his old one a few years ago. It looks so ugly, it’s like… plaid? But it keeps water cool in the summer so I can’t really complain. He got it for his fishing trips but he never used it so I got it instead. The perks of being his only grandchild,” she waved her fingers.

“You don’t have cousins?” Wayne asked, digging into his own piece of cake while Eddie picked a new present to open.

“No, both my parents are only children. All my Aunts and Uncles are their friends. I’ve got a big family, but I’m not blood related to any of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie muttered, his attention on the long thin box in his hands.

Chrissy’s gift had turned out to be a red tie. The fabric was soft and silky, slightly shiny, and the tie itself was on the thinner side. There was a simple white card in the bag, it only said “For: Eddie, From: Chrissy” but she’d dotted the I’s with tiny hearts. He caressed the side of the box lightly, staring at it in wonder. He’d never owned a tie, much less one that looked as expensive as this one. When he’d asked Chrissy for advice on what to wear for prom, he’d never imagined she’d take it upon herself to make sure he was presentable. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her for her birthday, maybe Dottie would know how to help.

“That’s nice,” Wayne said, craning his neck to see into the box. “That one yours, Dot?”

“No, this one’s Chrissy’s,” she replied.

“Who’s Chrissy?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie said, realizing he’d never talked to his Uncle about his most unlikely friend. “We’re in Sociology together.”

Dottie knew he was lying; Eddie only shared Sociology with Jeff but it wasn’t like he could tell Wayne he’d become friends with a cheerleader by selling her weed, could he? She noticed how suspicious his Uncle was by his statement and decided to help him out.

“I’m in World History with her, she’s really kind,” Dottie said, making Eddie look up at her too. “We were talking about Queen when you were with Mrs. Vaughn today, she said she liked my dress.”

“She did?”

“Yeah! She liked the pockets,” she smiled at him. “You gonna wear this for prom?”

“I think that’s why she got it for me,” Eddie chuckled. “I told her we’re all wearing Hellfire colors. Gareth got a red bowtie the other day.”

“I still haven’t found a dress I like or that fits right,” she huffed. “Dad said we’re gonna have to go to Indianapolis, we’ve been to every shop in Hawkins already.”

“A lot of shops closed last year ‘cause of the mall,” Wayne said, clearing up the cake plates. “Never reopened after the fire. Damn shame.”

“Can I open these ones?” Eddie interrupted, excited about the two other presents he had left on the pile.

“Sure!”

“Any special order?”

“No, they’re separate from each other.”

He decided to open the bigger one first, fairly confident about it being a book. He tore the paper to find a hardcover notebook, black with an elastic to keep it closed. It looked fancy, but not particularly special, at least not until he opened it. It was sheet music, 14 five-line staffs on every off-white page, binded and with a pocket on the back. He turned to the first sheet, blank, no lines but with a note written in familiar black ink. For my favorite rockstar, from your darling Dottie. With a little daisy at the end. He stared at it for a minute that never seemed to end and looked up at her, big rounded eyes pushing his eyebrows under his fringe.

“You were talking about wanting to write more songs for Corroded Coffin last week at practice, so I thought you might need a place to keep everything organized,” she explained, voice shy and a little soft.

“Dot, I-”

“Open the other one.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the small box, instantly recognizing it as a cassette case. He removed the paper, aware that Wayne was watching them from behind the kitchen bar while he brewed some coffee, and turned the transparent case in his hand. 1986 - E&D was written on the front, colorful stickers decorating the plastic. The song list inside only had one entry: Hot Patootie - Meatloaf (RHPS).

“Just one song?” he asked, confused.

“I thought we could fill it up together. See, I wrote 1986 on this one, but we can make a new one for every year we’re friends so when we get old, we can remember what we were doing that year by the songs we chose. Like a musical scrapbook.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie said, launching himself from the floor and tackling her to the carpet, dissolving into giggles as she fought to sit back down.

“Stop- Jesus, Ed- I don’t like tickles, stop!” she pleaded, writhing on the floor like a worm, thankful that she was wearing colorful leggings under her skirt.

“Who doesn’t like tickles?” he lifted himself up onto hands and knees above her, ceasing the attack but still caging her under his body.

“I get nervous if I can’t breathe right,” she explained, hair fanning out like a halo around her head. Eddie felt his knees go weak. “Also, it makes me feel like I’m gonna pee myself and that’s so embarrassing.”

“Okay, gotcha. No tickling,” he pulled them both into a sitting position and smiled, wrapping one arm around her. “Thank you, I love my gifts. And I already know what song I wanna add next to the mixtape.”

“Do tell.”

“Nope,” he shook his head dramatically. “You’ll find out when it’s done.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, turning to where Wayne was watching them, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Happy birthday, son,” he said, raising his coffee to his mouth, and Eddie thought it might have been the happiest of them all.

After dishes had been washed and the rest of the cake had been put away until a certain birthday boy got the munchies at midnight, Eddie and Dottie decided to sit on the porch just outside his bedroom and leave Wayne to his devices. They lounged side by side on the old ratty couch, him working on his portfolio and her reading Pride and Prejudice out loud in an attempt to get him to finish the last book left in their compulsory reading list before finals week was upon them.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounded families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

The heavy rain hitting the tin roof provided the perfect ambiance for Eddie’s limbs to start feeling heavy and his hand to begin missing the lines he was trying to stay between while he shaded his latest piece. He closed his sketchbook and slid it through his open window to keep it dry in the safety of his bedroom, quickly returning to the couch to continue hearing the tales of the Bennet sisters. He laid down on the cushions, legs hanging off the armrest and head comfortably pillowed by Dottie's lap.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is no another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

What a lovely voice, Eddie thought about Dottie, closing his eyes and letting his impressive imagination create Austen's lavish world behind his eyelids. It wasn't too high-pitched, nor too low, with the cadence of someone who already knows the story they are reading and is aware of where to pause for dramatic effect. This Bingham fellow seems nice. Is this a love triangle-angle?, he wondered. Dottie's voice turned sweet when reading Jane, demure when reading Charlotte, and bratty when reading Lydia. She would be kind when she read Bingham, disdainful when Caroline and solemn when Darcy. But Eddie's favorite so far was her Lizzie voice, which turned sensible and self-assured, yet playful and naïve. He supposed it was because she used her own voice for her most preferred Bennet sister.

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

A page was turned, and Dottie’s hand that had been propped up on her armrest fell onto her lap, where it began playing with Eddie's hair. She had touched it before, albeit briefly, but never had she had the opportunity to absent-mindedly run her fingers through his curls like this. They were so much softer than she had expected. She continued this soothing motion, and Eddie kept his eyes closed, leaving her to wonder if his unusual stillness was due to him falling asleep under her touch. She stopped, not wanting to disturb him when his arm shot up and his hand curled around her wrist.

"Please," he muttered in a broken voice. "Keep going."

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a haircut at a salon, but he also couldn't remember the last time anyone had brushed their fingers through the strands that had grown exponentially since middle school. He couldn't recall anyone helping him wash it, blow drying it for him, pushing it out of his face. And now Dottie was showing him the type of affection and care he'd craved for since before he learned how to tie his own shoes, and the rusty padlock with the missing key was beginning to break with the slightest amount of brute force applied to it.

"Please," Eddie pleaded, and Dottie closed the book, pulling her wrist out of his hand.

"Wait here," she said, moving her thighs so he'd let her get up and promptly disappeared into the trailer.

I've finally done it, he berated himself. I finally scared her off. But she reappeared quickly carrying a cushion and a rounded brush, sitting once again on the ratty couch. She opened her legs and put the cushion on the floor between them, motioning for him to sit down. Eddie complied without questioning it, his shoulders grazing against the colorful nylon leggings that covered her inner thighs while he faced the trailer park currently plunged into darkness by the storm. The first gentle but firm pull of the plastic bristles on his scalp made him shiver. The second one broke the dam.

Dottie brushed his hair in silence, being extra careful when she encountered a knot, undoing it slowly and patiently. Eddie sobbed without fear of judgment, because even though they weren't talking about it, he knew that she understood. How could she not, growing up with a single father who had never once in his life styled long hair before hers began to grow past her shoulders? So she brushed, and he cried, and they let go of yet another invisible weight together. When she put the brush down on the cushions, Eddie expected her to say something to ask him about what was happening. Instead, he felt her fingers running once, twice through the entire length of his hair, parting a small section near the top to his left on the third time. Dottie began braiding the strands into a thin plait, securing it with a small colorful plastic hair tie, the kind Eddie knew she always carried in her bag and had used a couple of times to pull her short curls into low pigtails.

She finished the braid, and moved onto the next one, right below the first one. Dottie wove strand with strand until she had three braids on either side of his head, all thinner than her own pinky. She pulled them back into a ponytail with the rest of his hair and brushed the ends for good measure one more time before dropping her weight on the floor between Eddie and the couch. Her arms curled around his waist, his chest to his back, her hands finding his curled into tight fists on his lap.

“You look like a viking now,” she said, softly.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice frail and small but full of meaning. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck, just above his shirt, and he bit back another sob.

“Happy birthday, Ed,” she muttered, lips still pressed to his skin like she wanted to get the words permanently etched into it.

Dottie did not go back to reading out loud and Eddie didn’t fish his sketchbook from his room for the remainder of the evening. They simply sat together on the porch, tangled with one another as usual, and watched the rain fall and heard the thunder rumble until it was time for her to go home. They didn’t say anything about what had happened, but there was no need. Another padlock laid at their feet, and they weren’t afraid of busting them open anymore.

Friday, May 16th - 1986

“Fred? Fred!” Dottie called, pushing the doors to the Hawkins High newspaper room in a hurry. “Fred, are you here?”

“N-no, he’s- he went to see the nurse!” a familiar voice came from under the stairs.

Sitting on the floor and hiding between a few boxes that contained blank bundles of paper, was Nancy Wheeler. Her pretty calf-length pastel rainbow skirt covered her bent legs, concealing her feet from anyone who walked by. She had been crying, brown mascara staining the skin under her eyes but she clearly wasn’t anymore, face dry and eyes only slightly swollen. When she noticed Dottie coming to kneel next to her, she quickly hid the paper she was holding in her cardigan pocket. They didn’t know each other very well yet, were friendly at best, but Dottie knew that Nancy didn’t have many friends in school. She was highly regarded as a good student, on track to being the valedictorian with a bright future ahead but she could be a bit of a loner when she wasn’t being followed around by Fred Benson or another newspaper club member.

Nancy often chose to spend most of her time in the library studying or working on something for The Weekly Streak, building her journalism portfolio to parade around in search of internships when she left Hawkins for college in Boston. Dottie wasn’t one to gossip with anyone that wasn’t named Gareth Coleman, but Fred liked to talk. On one occasion when the junior was assisting Dottie with an urgent task, he’d babbled on and on about Nancy, her late friend Barb, the fact that she’d been considered Hawkins royalty for a period of time while she dated some popular guy who was captain of the swimming team, and how she’d dumped him rather publicly at a Halloween party and gotten together with known weirdo Jonathan Byers. She tried to steer Fred away from the topic at the time, but he was undeterred: it was clear the boy held some sort of candle for the pretty senior, and who was Dottie to tell him to snuff it out? She’d only known them for less than a month. Still, with the knowledge that Nancy was a bit of an outcast after the tragic death of her best friend, and coupled with the fact that she was Mike’s sister, Dottie couldn’t pretend like she hadn’t seen her distress.

“You okay?” she asked, giving her editor-in-chief enough room to answer however she wanted.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s nothing,” Nancy rolled her shiny blue eyes, waving a hand around. “Everything’s fine.”

“I was dropping by to leave these for Fred,” Dottie explained, showing her the stack of papers she was holding. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he was just complaining about a headache. Nothing serious.”

“Good, okay. I’ll leave this on his station and we can go get a soda. Would that be alright?”

“You want to get a soda with me?” Nancy said, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Of course! We can share M&Ms if you want too. I’ve known you for a month and all I know about you is that you’re going to Emerson and that Dustin thinks you’re a badass.”

“He called me badass?” she laughed, getting to her feet and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“God, the kid loves you. Mike says he had a crush on you when they were younger.”

“Ugh, he did,” Nancy said, remembering the moment fondly. “Dustin is probably my favorite out of all my brother’s friends.”

“He’s so nice. His Mom did a great job with him.”

“Have you met Claudia? She’s quite the character,” she confided as the two girls climbed up the stairs and headed into the empty hallways side by side.

Nancy was funny. That was something Dottie hadn’t been expecting. She was polite and reserved, yes, but funny in the way people who notice things others don’t are. She carried their conversation well, asked Dottie questions to get to know her better while she answered the ones directed at her with ease. Her favorite color was pink, she liked all her classes except Math, was really excited about the release of Top Gun and was going to go see it with her Mom, Karen. She preferred Sprite to Coca-Cola, and in her opinion, the best M&Ms were the red ones, even though they all tasted the same. They sat on a bench just outside the cafeteria and talked about trivial things until they ran out of topics to explore.

“I wish we would have done this earlier,” Dottie said, popping a green candy into her mouth. “You’re really cool, Nance.”

“Thanks,” she said, chuckling shyly. “I think you might be collecting Wheeler siblings at this point. Should I let my Mom know you’re available to babysit Holly?”

“I actually have a lot of experience with babysitting. Give me until finals are done and if you need me, I’m there.”

“Speaking of babysitting, Mike mentioned you’re tutoring Eddie Munson.”

“I’m not really tutoring him, just… helping him keep his focus. We’re good friends.”

“I know. Mike,” Nancy said, like that explained everything and it actually did. “Actually, he… he mentioned you gave him advice a few times. About his girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I remember. Why are teenage boys so scared of their own feelings?”

“Tell me about it,” she scoffed, but immediately turned shy and rigid. “Could you… would it be okay if I asked you for advice too? It’s just- you are impartial in this situation and I think that’s what I need right now.”

“Sure, how can I help?” Dottie turned to her.

Nancy explained that she’d gotten a letter from her boyfriend, Jonathan. Ex-boyfriend, actually, but neither of them were good at the ex part. They had had a big argument over the phone after Spring break when post California-visit, Mike had accidentally let it slip that Jonathan didn’t want to go to Emerson with Nancy and had chosen community school instead. She hadn’t been upset about him changing his plans, but it definitely had hurt to know he’d been lying to her all this time, telling her he’d applied when he hadn’t, stringing her along for months on end. Dottie listened to Nancy retelling how she’d broken up with him, worried about if there were maybe other things he’d been hiding from her, and how Jonathan hadn’t tried to argue back once. He’d called two weeks later from a payphone outside the pizza parlor his new best friend worked at, high off his mind, crying and begging for her to take him back. Nancy had firmly said no, but that she was willing to talk more when he wasn’t on drugs.

This had happened mid-April, and Jonathan hadn’t called since. Instead, a letter addressed to Nancy had arrived that same Friday - four full pages of him not exactly asking for forgiveness, but explaining his reasoning in regards to his lies. Nancy didn’t share all the details, but the essential part was that as the eldest son of a single parent, he felt a sense of duty towards his siblings and didn’t want to move away so soon after they started high school in a new town where they had virtually to no friends and were getting bullied just for daring to exist. She did mention that his new sister Jane, Mike’s girlfriend, was still dealing with the loss of her adoptive father, so that situation on top of the move wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Nancy said, at the end of her long monologue. “If he’d told me all of this before, I would have understood him. He’s right, they are all having a hard time but did he have to lie about it for an entire year?”

“I think both sides are valid,” Dottie said, offering her the last candy in the package. “He’s not wrong for wanting to help his Mom and his siblings out, but he went about it in a really shitty way and you’re allowed to feel betrayed by it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Nancy, he lied to you! It was with the best of intentions, but he still lied. If you feel like that’s a hard limit in your relationship, you should tell him that, and he should respect it. And you. He should always respect you.”

“He does, he’s… I love him.”

“You can love someone and be upset with them at the same time. Just tell him how you feel instead of avoiding each other because you don’t want to get into a fight. Trust your instincts on this one.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna call him this weekend, and if we’re done, we’re done, but at least we handled it like adults.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dottie cheered her on. “Everything will turn out okay, I have faith in you both.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, smiling. “I really needed the pep talk.”

“Anytime. I gotta run now, but I liked hanging out with you.”

“Me too. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole… girl talk thing.”

“Can’t imagine Mike being into that, no,” Dottie said, and Nancy laughed. “See you on Monday?”

“Yes. Monday. Good luck with Hellfire!”

“Good luck with Jonathan. Fight for your love, girl!” she declared dramatically while she sped away.

Nancy watched her go with a curious smile on her face. She’d have to keep an eye on Dorothy Burke from now on, but that could wait. It was Friday, Fred might be down for the count, and she had a newspaper edition to perfect before Monday morning.

Dottie had been to Family Video only twice since moving to Hawkins, once with her Dad and once with the boys, both times during a weekend. When Donny pulled into the parking lot that Friday night after Hellfire, she was fully expecting to see the same greasy dude that smelled like Cheetos she’d seen the last two times but saw instead a pretty tall girl that had her eyes glued to a black and white movie playing on the overhead TV. Gareth immediately ran to the horror section in search for the first part of their double feature, and Dottie approached the girl timidly while Donny smoked outside, waiting for Eddie and Jeff to arrive with warm pizza and fresh ice cream.

“Hi, welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?” the taller girl smiled with tired eyes, the kind you only got if you worked retail.

“Hi! I wanted to rent The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you have it?”

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” she said, lifting the counter and guiding her towards the Musicals section. Another boy was restocking shelves labeled as Comedy next to them.

“Hi there,” he said, waving a VHS case in the air.

“Hi,” Dottie said and turned to where the girl was moving movies around, a frown on her face. “Did someone else beat me to it?”

“No, no, I know it’s here… Just can’t figure out where I put it.”

“What are you looking for?” the boy said, coming to stand above the girl, craning his neck to see the stands.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The cover’s a mouth with red lips.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved it to the Horror section,” he said, brows bunching in the middle.

“Why did you move it? It’s a musical, dingus.”

“How would I know? It says horror in the title!”

“God, you’re hopeless,” the girl shook her head, and Dottie snorted at their antics.

They bickered all the way to the Horror section, Gareth looking up with a confused expression at the scene in front of him. The tall girl moved around him with ease, finding instantly what she was looking for.

“Here you go, sorry about that,” she said, giving the VHS to Dottie.

“You picked a horror movie?” Gareth asked.

“No, it’s a musical.”

“We’re not watching a musical.”

“Why not? It’s really fun, it’s about-”

“Dot, we’re not watching lovey-dovey bullshit on movie night. Come on, pick something else.”

“No!” Dottie put her foot down. “Eddie said we both got one pick and we couldn’t complain about what the other person chose. Jeff hasn’t seen Rocky Horror and I want him to know where Hot Patootie comes from if he’s gonna be singing it for me every week!”

“It’s from a musical? Eddie said it was a Meatloaf song!”

“It is!” the tall girl interrupted with a bright smile. “Meatloaf plays Eddie in it, it’s his only song in the whole movie but it’s a classic.”

“You’ve seen it?” Dottie asked, eyes lighting up at the discovery of a kindred spirit.

“Y-yeah, it’s really good. I love how it constantly breaks the fourth wall, I mean, talking to the audience through a narrator must be one of the most well known resources in theater but it must be so fun to experience in the stage show-”

“Oh my god, yes!” Dottie interrupted her, turning her entire body to face her newest friend. “The stage show is so cool, I saw it twice at, like, the shittiest community theater ever but they killed it every single time. The material is just so good!”

“You saw it live? Where?”

“New York, I used to live there.”

“That’s so cool,” the girl said, her eyes wide.

“Okay, so maybe you two can have your own movie night and watch your girly musical together,” Gareth said, getting back to the topic. “-but we’re not gonna watch that tonight. Birthdays are for horror movies.”

“It says horror in the title, dude,” the other boy said, making Dottie chuckle. Gareth looked at her like she was betraying him.

“Come on, it’s really not bad. You’re gonna like it, I promise. There’s… there’s sex and boobies in it!”

A tense silence spread through Family Video, Dottie painfully aware that she had said something extremely weird in front of people she didn’t know. It was okay that she was using the tantalizing idea of breasts to lure Gareth into saying yes to her movie choice, but she didn’t need to make it so damn obvious she was excited about the prospect of seeing them too. The taller girl was staring at her with a wild blush spreading from her chest up to her ears, but perhaps the other boy’s reactions were much more disconcerting. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, stared at the back of his friend’s head, and then turned to Dottie with a huge grin on his face.

“If you don’t rent this movie, I will. We’re definitely watching it tonight, right, Rob?” he said, and the girl began giggling, her face in her hands.

“You’re such an idiot, Steve,” she gritted out through her laughter.

“Really, man, you’re a dumbass if you miss some boobs because you don’t wanna watch a musical with friends.”

“You’re gonna like it, G, I swear. It was made for the freaks,” Dottie insisted, sharing a grateful smile with the boy who was now known as Steve.

“Ugh, okay, fine! But if you’re picking a dumb musical, I can pick whatever I want and you can’t say no because you’re scared.”

“Those were the rules, we don’t complain about each other’s picks.”

“Not even if I pick The Exorcist?”

“Well… No, it’s- it’s okay. You can pick whatever you want,” she said, but looked very daunted by the idea.

“You sure?”

“She said yes, man,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips like a suburban dad. “Are you gonna rent these two or do you want one more? You can rent up to three every time.”

“Two’s okay, thank you, Steve,” Dottie said, grabbing The Exorcist off the shelf and taking both VHS cases to the counter.

The four of them moved to the main area and Steve busied himself checking them out, asking Gareth for his information to enter into the computer. Dottie was distracted while she looked at the small selection of candy they offered, the tall girl following her movement with her eyes. She knew she’d seen her before, probably at school but who was she? She mentioned she lived in New York…

“You’re Dorothy, right?” she said suddenly.

“How did you know?”

“People used to talk about you a lot back in January. Then you kinda dropped off everyone’s radar.”

“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Kinda joined the outcasts so…”

“I’m in band, I get it.”

“What do you play?”

“Trumpet. Been playing for twelve years.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Dottie said, thinking that she hadn’t done anything in her life with that kind of consistency. “It’s really nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Wha- oh. Oh! My tag!” Robin laughed at herself, looking down at the pins on her vest. “You know, I heard there’s a place in Indy where they do Rocky Horror showings once a month if you ever want to go. I don’t drive b-but I bet Steve can take us.”

“That sounds great, yeah! Is he cool with, y’know, nudity and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely! He doesn’t mind. He’s cool. Yeah, Steve’s… really cool.”

“Aw, you actually love me,” Steve said, giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping, and Robin hit him with a magazine.

“You two are really cute,” Dottie said, smiling at them. “How long have you been together?”

“We’re not-”

“Ew, that’s not-”

“We’re friends,” said Steve.

“Best friends,” added Robin.

“Strictly platonic.”

“With a capital P.”

“Oh. Well, I guess retail bonds you forever,” Dottie laughed, and Steve chuckled.

“You have no idea,” he said, looking over at Robin with a knowing expression.

“Okay, can you stop flirting with King Steve now? You’re grossing me out,” Gareth deadpanned, making Dottie frown.

“I’m not- I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s cool. We’re all friends here,” Steve said. “Enjoy your movie night!”

“Thank you, bye! Bye, Robin,” she waved at the girl, who waved back before Dottie grabbed Gareth’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Gareth said, when she shoved him outside, Donny holding the door open for them.

“Don’t know what you did, but you probably deserved it,” he said, letting the door close behind them, muffling their voices from inside the store.

Steve and Robin watched them get into Donny’s car and pull out behind a beat up brown Chevy van, both vehicles disappearing down the road together. When the tail lights were no longer able to be seen, they turned to each other with curious expressions.

“Was she-” Robin asked.

“I think she was, yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What did I tell you?” Steve said, going back to where he had been restocking before all the commotion. “Boobies.”

“Stop saying boobies!”

When Dottie asked to sit next to him to watch The Exorcist, Eddie imagined a scenario where she’d be a little bit scared and seek him out for comfort. After all, cuddling on a couch wasn’t something they’d never done before, blurring the line between friendly touches and something more every day that went by. She suggested eating first, putting the movie in later, and no one complained about the request, eager to stuff their faces after a long day of school and extracurriculars on top. Jeff’s basement was a cozy hangout spot with a door that led to a side entrance, perfect for sneaking out for a smoke between his mother’s carefully manicured rose bushes. The tan carpet and wooden walls were welcoming, if not slightly tacky, and the space had been filled in with a big couch and two armchairs, a huge TV where Jeff’s dad liked to watch football, and a great sound system that had probably been top-of-the-line ten years prior. They gotten their fill of cheese and soda, Whitesnake and Black Sabbath playing in the background, and then retreated to their seats for the movie: Eddie, Dottie, and Jeff on the couch, Donny to Jeff’s left as far away from the TV as he could sit, and Gareth on the remaining Lay-Z-Boy to Eddie’s right, bowl of popcorn for himself on his lap.

As soon as the movie started, it was clear Eddie’s expectations had been sorely mistaken. Dottie started stiff as a board between the two boys, slowly sinking into the couch as the minutes ticked, head hidden behind her knees. Jeff had a bit of success in getting her to relax when he attempted to tell her every time it was safe to look up, but after a miscalculation of the length of a scene involving various medical procedures, her eyes never went beyond the coffee table again. Gareth and Donny’s constant commentary helped ease the uncomfortable air in the room, but it was clear to Eddie that Dottie was not enjoying this situation one bit. Forgoing any ideas of romance, he pulled her into his side, letting her bury her head into his shirt as she tried to ignore the sounds coming from the TV while Regan thrashed on a hospital bed calling for her mother.

Donny looked at Eddie pointedly during a quiet moment, but he pretended not to see it, choosing instead to rub big circles on Dottie’s back in an attempt to calm down her heart rate, beating wildly against the side of his chest like it was trying to get out of her body. Progressively through the 122 minutes that the movie lasted, she pressed more and more of herself against Eddie trying to shield herself from the horrors on the screen, and truthfully, if he hadn’t been so distracted trying to comfort her, he would have been terrified too. By the time Regan was gilding down the stairs on all fours, Jeff was covering half his face with a decorative pillow. When she began hurting herself with a crucifix, even Donny who had been somewhat unaffected until that moment let out a perturbed “Jesus Christ”. By the time the actual exorcism had began, Donny looked like he desperately needed a cig, Jeff was threatening to throw up if Regan threw up again, and Dottie was shaking so much that Eddie straight up manhandled her into his lap like a child and covered the ear that wasn’t pressed up against his chest with his own hand. Credits rolled, and Gareth was the only one that moved out of his chair to stretch and turn on the lights, face pallid when he saw the angry faces of his friends.

“Uh…”

“Are you fucking serious, Gareth?” Donny said in disbelief, knees cracking with the sudden movement of standing up after two hours. “That shit was so fucked up!”

“Please don’t fight,” Jeff said tiredly, letting his pillow drop to the floor.

“Oh, I’m fighting,” Donny doubled down. “Look at Dot! You know she hates horror movies and you get this one? Couldn’t you get fucking Gremlins instead?”

“It’s not that scary, it’s so obvious everything’s totally fake! You can see the tube stuck to her head when she throws up!”

“That was so fucking gross,” Jeff added, still looking a little green himself.

“It’s okay-” Dottie began, wiping under her eyes with the sleeve of her red cardigan, but Donny interrupted her again.

“This is what you were giving her shit for in the video store?”

“Okay, shit- I get it. I fucked up,” Gareth lifted his hands. “I honestly didn’t think it was that scary the first time I saw it.”

“Man, you need to see a shrink if that shit didn’t scare you,” Eddie said, no longer all cozied up to Dottie, but still keeping one arm around her for support.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth looked at Dot, who was the most affected out of his friends. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like ass for two hours. I thought we’d have fun with it.”

“You’re mean, and I hate you, but it’s okay,” she said, grumpily pouting but lifting her arms to ask him for a hug which he immediately gave her. “Just don’t do it again. And you have to go with me to the bathroom now because I’m gonna pee myself and I don’t wanna be in there alone.”

“I’ll hold your hand while you pee, you big wuss.”

Gareth and Dottie climbed up the stairs, him cracking the stupidest jokes to get her to relax while Jeff busied himself going to grab the ice cream so everyone could cool down before the second movie. Donny got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and nodded at Eddie to follow him outside. They pressed their backs to the cold brick, the lights spilling out from the glass panel on the door illuminating their faces with warm yellow tones. They smoked for a few minutes in silence, looking out onto the fenced-in backyard.

“That shit was wild,” Donny said. "Can't believe they made a twelve-year-old pretend to stab her own pussy with a fucking cross."

"You think that actress was really 12?" Eddie mused.

"Well, she looked like it."

"Yeah, but... maybe she was like 16 and just looks really small? Dunno, but that was crazy. Was she really telling that priest to fuck that other priest?"

"Yeah," Donny chuckled, throwing a bit of ash to the ground. "Saw you, by the way."

"Saw me?"

"You two. Dottie sitting on your lap."

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie scoffed.

"I'm not saying anything weird was happening. Just that I saw you."

"She was terrified, man. Never seen her shake like that, and I've seen her scared before," the eldest said, bitterly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm telling you, I could feel her fucking heartbeat and that shit didn’t feel healthy. She's gonna sleep with her lights on for a week."

"Shit. Didn't realize it was that bad or I would have said something. Honestly thought she was playing it up a little bit, getting cozy with you."

"Nah, she's not like that."

"How do you know?" Eddie shrugged, and Donny narrowed his eyes. "What's been going with you two lately? You're like, attached at the hip."

Eddie took his time to answer, letting the smoke in his lungs leave his body slowly, savoring the peace and quiet of the Friday night. Donny had been his first friend in the group, and if anyone deserved honesty after showing him so much loyalty, it was him. Maybe he'd have valuable insight to share with him in return.

"I'm whipped, Don. That's what's going on," Eddie said.

"Tell me something I don't know, dude."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes. I don't think the others have noticed yet."

"Yeah, well, it's bad. Like really, really bad. Like I'm one more pout away from dropping on one knee and asking her to be the new Mrs. Munson bad."

"Jesus."

"Yup."

"So it's not just a crush? Are you, like, seriously in love with her?"

"I'm gonna go to prom and wear a tie for her. Take a wild fucking guess."

Donny stared at Eddie for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. The long haired boy lifted an eyebrow, questioning.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"I don't deserve her."

"Ed-"

"I just don't want to drag her down, y'know? She has all these plans, she’s gonna go to college, do cool stuff. I want to ask her when I have something real to offer. After graduation, once I get a job."

"Eddie, has it ever occurred to you that she really fucking likes you right now? You know, without all that extra shit?"

"I know she does."

"You do?" Donny looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I'm stupid, not blind. Dunno when she started to like me but yeah, I know she does."

"When did you figure it out?"

"We spent Mother's Day together."

"Oh."

"That's when I realized, damn, she must really like me to spend such a big day like this with me. And then her Dad gave me a manly talk so I just kinda put two and two together."

"Does she know you know?"

"I don't know if she even knows herself. She was telling me the other day that it's stupid boys and girls can't be friends without people reading too much into it. Maybe she’s in denial. I was.

“You were?”

“For like two days, yeah,” Eddie admitted.

"I'll ask Gareth about it. I bet he knows."

"You think?"

"They act like siblings all the time, if someone knows, it's him," Donny assured him, putting his cig out against the brick wall. "Hurry up though, she might get tired of waiting."

"Just a couple more weeks. Until I know if I graduate or not. It's the bare fucking minimum but she deserves it."

"Alright. I'm rooting for you, man. Go make me proud."

"Thanks, dude."

They returned to the basement after their smoke break, Donny giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder when they saw Dottie and Jeff back on the couch, heads together over a big tub of vanilla ice cream. Gareth was sitting on the floor in front of them scooping chocolate into a bowl that already had strawberry and vanilla in it. She was explaining the basics of the movie they were about to watch, warning them that things weren’t what they seemed and that it was about to get weird. Jeff looked terribly excited about the prospect of some lighthearted fun, and whatever talk Gareth and Dottie had had while they were in the bathroom (he’d apologized again while he stood in a corner, back to her and his eyes closed for good measure while she peed) had left him equally curious. The boy heard the words “boobs” and “murder” and decided he was all in for the experience.

Once everyone was back in their seats and had a cold treat in their hands to enjoy during the movie, lights went off and bright red lips filled the screen. Michael Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still, but he told us… where we stand, Dottie mouthed following the lyrics, spoon resting on her lower lip. It was a complete 180 from the previous feature, her eyes now glued to the moving images, only rousing from her hypnosis to fill her spoon with more ice cream when Jeff prompted her to do so. She encouraged the boys to participate, instructing them to say “Janet” or “Oh, Brad” in a bored tone along with Riff Raff and Magenta during Dammit Janet or teaching them the steps to The Time Warp. Donny and Jeff, ever the performers, immediately jumped to action when Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul began, and Eddie twirled Dottie around proving himself to be quite the capable dancer when he put effort into it. Even Gareth got into the festivities when the pickaxe came out.

“Okay, that was awesome,” Jeff said while the credits were still rolling. “Didn’t know musicals could be, y’know, not Grease.”

“Take that back, Grease is legit,” Donny threatened him with his spoon.

“Less boobs than I was promised but still pretty good,” laughed Gareth, and Dottie chucked a pillow at his head.

“Looks like movie night is a success all thanks to Dot,” Eddie said, grinning at the girl that couldn’t sing for shit, but still knew all the lyrics to every beat of the musical. “Gareth, you’re banned from picking movies for a month.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged.

“Are there more musicals like this?” Jeff asked, and Eddie could see Dottie’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Well, there’s one about a demon barber…”

Eddie’s 20th birthday had been nothing like he was used to, but as he sat in Jeff’s brown-looking basement, his crush resting her weight against his shoulder as she animatedly explained to their friends the plot of Sweeney Tood: The Demon Barber of Fleet… Street, his spoon full of strawberry ice cream, and a pre-rolled joint in his backpack they were definitely going to sneakily smoke in the back of his van at some point during the night, he felt truly lucky for the first time in years. Everything was going to change for them in a few weeks, but Eddie really hoped that his 21st birthday would be as happy, if not more, as his 20th had been.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

[blowflyfag]

WWF RAW MAGAZINE: JUNE 2001

The RAW Interview 

By Keith Elliot Greenberg

The Extreme Truth

Paul Heyman Pulls No Punches as he Reveals the Roots of “Hardcore”

(Part One)

Not long ago, World Wrestling Federation fans were astonished to turn on Raw Is War, and see none other than Paul Heyman sitting in the commentator’s chair. Since 1993, Heyman–also known as Paul E. Dangerously–had been the brains behind Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW), an organization known for outrageous storylines and thrilling action. Through the years, some of the most gifted performers in the business–among them, Mick “Mankind” foley, Stone Cold Steve Austin, Chris Benoit, Tazz and the Dudleyz–got their seasoning in ECW, and many believe that the renegade group helped inspire the World Wrestling Federation’s edgy age of “Attitude.”

For much of the last year, Heyman struggled to keep his promotion alive, sometimes with the help of World Wrestling Federation-provided talent on his shows. But in early 2001, he realized he’d fought as hard as he could. When Jerry “The King” Lawler walked away from the World Wrestling Federation, Heyman found himself calling matches of the Federation, alongside Jim “J.R.” Ross.

RAW Magazine: Tell me about when you discovered that you’d be replacing Jerry Lawler on Raw Is War.

Paul Heyman: Actually, I thought it was a rib on me when they asked me to do it. I had no desire to be on camera. I get a much bigger thrill being behind the scenes. And I think the fact that I kept myself off camera so much in my own promotion is a testament to the fact that I truly don’t want to be an on-air personality. I was negotiating with the World Wrestling Federation when the company released Stacy Carter (The Kat), and her husband Jerry Lawler walked out on her behalf. When they told me they wanted me to sit in the commentator’s chair, I didn’t believe it. I haven’t been a commentator since October 1991, when I was in World Championship Wrestling (WCW). And I just couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to put a fat, bald, 35-year-old Jew on the air. It didn’t make sense to me�� until 8:57 p.m., when they sent me out to the ring.

[“When the decision was made to take all wrestling stuff off Turner Broadcasting, I knew that, despite our efforts, the death knell was sounding for ECW. The fight was over. It was time to call it a day, and join the World Wrestling Federation.”]

RAW: In the weeks leading to your appearance on Raw, there were rumors about your last-ditch efforts to save ECW. How did you finally decide that it was time to come to the World Wrestling Federation? 

Heyman: I’ve been a longtime acquaintance of the McMahon family. It’s kind of like in the movie Almost Famous. I B.S.’ed my way into the back of Madison Square Garden right after my 14th birthday. When ECW ran into bad times, there was so much support from the World Wrestling Federation, offers of advice, talent and promotion from the very top of the organization all the way down to just people volunteering production services on their off-hours. It was a no-brainer for me. WCW was never even a consideration because, quite honestly, they were structured to fail. Had WCW been taken off the Turner networks, we hoped we might be able to replace them. But when the decision was made to take all wrestling off Turner Broadcasting, I knew that, despite our efforts, the death knell was sounding on ECW. The fight was over. It was time to call it a day, and join the World Wrestling Federation.

RAW: Just as, in the 1950s, when Antonio Rocca popularized the flying head scissors and Gorgeous George opened the door to gimmick performers, many fans believe that in the 1990s, the ECW attitude influenced the World Wrestling Federation attitude. Do you concur with that?

Heyman: I would say that it was smart business on everybody’s part to be influenced by us, and study what we were doing right and incorporate it into their own product. We had something very, very special, and it was working. It was creating a situation where we had the most rabidly loyal fan base that many in this industry ever saw. We didn’t have the media exposure to market and promote our product the way the other guys did. So, to me, they were smart to beat us to the punch and bring it to a wider audience. If not, it would have enabled ECW a better wing at the ball in capturing any percentage of market share. 

RAW: Back in 1994, there were people in the World Wrestling Federation who look at the ECW product, and said, “That stuff’s too hardcore. That may work in a bingo hall in Philadelphia, but on a national level no one’s gonna buy it.” I’m sure you heard those comments. So what compelled you to keep pushing the envelope without fear that it was going to explode in your face?

Heyman: We listened to the audience, and the audience was digging it. So we just kept on pushing it because they wanted us to. 

RAW: How did you end up in the dressing room at 14 years old?

Heyman: When I was 13 years old, I’d go to Madison Square Garden with my zoom lens, take pictures of the matches, and then trade those photos with people all over the country. It was an expensive hobby because I had to reproduce so many pictures. So I started putting together a newsletter with everyone’s photos and match results. I was having a blast, the time of my life, and I wanted to get some interviews. I was tired of taking zoom-lens pictures with the ropes in the way. I wanted to go backstage and take photos of the wrestlers there. Now, I might have had pimples and braces, but I also had a deep voice. And I B.S.’ed my way on the telephone, and finally got a hold of Vince McMahon, Sr. [father of current owner Vince McMahon]. He arranged for me to get a press pass for Madison Square Garden. I just acted like I belonged, and I guess they believed that I did. I gave a picture of Andre the Giant that I had taken to Vince, Sr., and he gave me $50 for it. And every month after that, I showed up with my press pass and got in. I ended up getting to know everybody, and just became part of the scene. 

RAW: Did you always believe in your heart that you’d be in the World Wrestling Federation at some point?

Heyman: I never really thought about it. I’ve never taken the time to sit down and wonder what comes next. I see TV executives do that all the time, and I hate their guts for it because they’ll make decisions that are based on future political ramifications instead of what’s right for their organizations. I just wanted to put 100 percent into whatever I did. So I never really thought that I would end up here. It’s been close several times through my career. But for one reason or another, I always ended up doing something else. I have a different perspective coming here at age 35 than I would have had if I came here when I was 24. I’m glad I had a chance to grow up outside the structure of the WWF because it enables me, at 35, to bring an old man’s experience but a young man’s enthusiasm to the table. 

RAW: When did you make the transition from being a photographer to being a participant?

Heyman: I was editing one of the wrestling magazines in 1985 and 1986. And I also was doing work at [New York nightclub] Studio 54, doing publicity, promotions and producing shows–kind of like ECW. IN April 1986, Studio closed due to insurance problems. Suddenly I found myself out of work, so I began working on independent wrestling shows in the Northeast. In January 1987, I started working at the old wrestling territory in Florida. From there, I went to Memphis. And from there I went to the [now-defunct] American Wrestling Alliance (AWA). Everything just took off like a rocket for me. 

RAW: It’s one thing to take pictures at ringside, it’s another thing to take bumps in the ring. How did you learn to make that change?

Heyman: I didn’t learn how to do it at all. I loved performing. It was a fantasy come true. And I just went out there and did it with no formal training, figuring things out along the way–like a real schmuck.

RAW: It’s no secret that, back in the days of the regional wrestling territories, some promoters didn’t treat the fans like they were intelligent. Did you learn from their mistakes?

Heyman: ECW was a very fan-friendly promotion. We believed in talking to and with our audience instead of at them and thinking that we were above them. I didn’t buy into the mentality some other promoters had. 

RAW: In Memphis in 1987, you were involved in a very famous altercation with the man you replaced in the World Wrestling Federation, Jerry Lawler. 

Heyman: It was the first time Lawler lost a hair match. I was Austin Idol’s manager and, in the middle of his match with Lawler, Tommy Rich–who had been hiding under the ring all day–came out and gave Lawler a piledriver after the referee got knocked on his ass. And Idol pinned Lawler. Then, they let me into the cage, and we proceeded to shave the head of the hometown hero, Jerry “the King” Lawler.

RAW: And the fans really seemed ready to riot?

Heyman: They did. It took us 45 minutes to get out of the cage. The cops couldn’t get to us, and we couldn't get out of the cage. People were literally climbing the cage to get in. And Tommy Rich was swinging a chair to bat them down. I was just 21 years old and stupid–I thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Meanwhile, I’m starting to realize, “Hey, why are the cops standing all the way back there? And why haven't they gotten to the ring yet?” And I realized it was because they couldn’t get to us. I was too excited to be scared.

RAW: And it was Tommy Rich who helped get you into the AWA?

Heyman: Yeah, he got a job there and mentioned that there was this young guy he knew who no one had seen on a national level. The AWA was on [TV] daily on ESPN at the time. The Gagnes [AWA owners Verne and Greg Gagne] were hesitant to use me because I'd been a photographer.

RAW: Why was that a problem? Did they think that you weren’t a professional manager?

Heyman: I really can’t identify the mindset, simply because I’m happy to state that in my life, I don’t think that I’ve ever been that stupid. 

So I said to them, “Here’s what I'll do” I’ll buy a ticket to the TV tapings on my own. And if you like my shtick, give me back the plane ticket money and tell me that I have a job. If you don’t, I'll pack my bags and leave; the ticket’s on me and thank you for the opportunity.”

[“We brought in Sabu, then Tazz, and then Tommy Dreamer… (ECW) just gave the people a quality show, and it caught on. We could see the movement gaining momentum, and I decided to stick with it.”]

RAW: So you go out there, and you get heat?

Heyman: Yeah, kinda.

RAW: So did the Gagnes say, “Fine, you can stay”?

Heyman: Yeah, I walked to the dressing room, was handed my plane ticket money and told, “You got a job.”

RAW: Then you got national exposure?

Heyman: Yes.

RAW: And that led to you appearing in ECW?

Heyman: Right, I left Verne [Gagne] right before New Year’s Eve in ‘87, and spent the next 10 months working a little bit for Jerry Blackwell’s promotion in Georgia. Then I was Eddie Gilbert’s assistant booker in Alabama, while i was booking a new promotion out of Chicago called Windy City Wrestling. In WCW, Tully [Blanchard] and Arn [Anderson] had just left for the World Wrestling Federation, and the new Midnight Express [Bobby Eaton and Stan Lane] needed someone new to work with. So I came in with the Original Midnight Express [Dennis Condrey and Randy Rose, who’d previously used the name} for a Midnight vs. Midnight feud. And we started there the day that Ted Turner took over the company.

RAW: But what was significant about that was that fans weren’t sure if this was a storyline or the real thing. The announcers had said, “These guys [Condrey and Rose] don’t even work for WCW.”

Heyman: Very much. It was a lot like the things we did in ECW. Fans weren’t sure where the story ended and reality began.

RAW: Let’s hear about the roots of ECW.

Heyman: In 1993, my old friend Eddie Gilbert was living in Philadelphia, putting together Eastern Championship Wrestling with Tod Gordon. Eddie asked me to come down a few days a month and help him produce promos and teach some guys different interview skills and stuff like that. I always loved to work with talent.  When Eddie and Tod had a falling out, Tod was left in a bad jam. And he asked me as a favor to help him. I came in and took over the creative end on September 18, 1993. And he asked me if I would do it a little longer while he got his legs underneath him. And I started producing characters like the Public Enemy. We brought in Sabu, then Taz, and then Tommy Dreamer. And we gave a young announcer named Joey Styles his first exposure and turned Shane Douglas into “The Franchise.” We just gave the people a quality show, and it caught on. We could just see the movement gaining momentum, and I decided to stick with it. 

RAW: How did Eastern Championship Wrestling become Extreme Championship Wrestling?

Heyman: Even after the NWA (National Wrestling Alliance) ended its close association with WCW, the NWA continued to exist. It was mainly a group of small promoters around the country. And there were some members of the board of the NWA who kept trying to stop ECW’s progress. So the decision was made in 1994 to promote the next NWA world heavyweight championship tournament at the ECW Arena [in Philadelphia]. And the decision was made that Shane Douglas would get the belt. At that time, we made the decision that the NWA was truly a dead organization, and this was our chance to do something that we’d never done. We would declare the past dead and say, “This Is a whole new beginning. We’re gonna break all the conventions and trash all the rules. And look out world, here we come.” We took the risk of alienating ourselves from the rest of the wrestling industry, which we did. 

Shane beat Too Cold Scorpio in the final. And then he threw down the NWA title in the ring. He didn’t throw it into a garbage can, as many people later claimed. And [NWA president] Dennis Coralluzzo came in the back and asked what was going on. We said Shane was the champion, whether he wanted him to be champion or not. 

When out TV show aired, he was introduced as our new ECW champion. But we weren’t Eastern Championship Wrestling anymore, and we weren’t the NWA. We were Extreme Championship Wrestling. And the way the business would be propelled into the future would now be labeled “extreme.”

[Part Two of the Paul Heyman interview will appear in the July issue of RAW Magazine, on sale June 26.]

[theartofadventure]

It’s my birthday today. I’m the oldest I’ve ever been—fifty-nineteen. I woke up to a beautiful card from my husband and an invitation from my son to go for a walk in the redwoods where the streams are rushing with the recent torrential rains.

Sometimes on our walks we see coyotes on the hills studying us as potential snpacks, calling to each other across the way.

“What do you think, Phil? Are they worth it?”

“Nah, that old limpy lady looks too tough.”

And I do limp. I have planters fasciitis that is much better but never completely gone, and bursitis in one hip. My doctor sent me to a physical therapy class last month called “Hip Care,” with four other much young limpy people. I was having an unusually sore day, and hobbled into the class like Walter Brennan. She began by explaining all the reasons hips might hurt—ie sports injuries, arthritis, repetitive stress—and then added thoughtfully, “old age.” But during the series of exercises she had us do on the padded tables, I injured my knee. I suppose I have to go to Knee Care class next, if I can risk it.

So a bum hip, sore knee and bad feet, but I go for a walk in Nature every day. Otherwise I become Mad Bummer Lady—the bread is a little stale, I don’t have even one more MAGA day left in me, and who the hell leaves wrappers and cans in our park?

Annie—stop! Pick up the litter. Send money to Planned Parenthood. Toast the bread. Put on the good pair of glasses, like the priest told Bill Wilson in the thirties—“Sometimes I think that heaven is just a new pair of glasses.”

But wait, where did I put them?

Which bring us to the mind. Sigh. My mother died of Alzheimer’s and my father of brain cancer so what I used to call ten years ago “my little senior moments” are not quite as charming as they might be. Now, at 50-19, they can be scary. My main exercise is trying to find things—the phone, the keys, the car in big parking lots. A friend finally scared himself to death with the increased space out-ed-ness, and got the complete two-day neurological work up. At the end, the neurologist “assured” (hah!) him he simply had age appropriate cognitive decline, and added something that has saved me—it’s not a problem if you can never find your keys or glasses, but it becomes one if, when you find them, you can’t remember what they are for. So far so good every time: no flies on the princess!

But still, I am as happy and grateful as I have ever been, because I practice gratitude, and because of the incredible people who love me. I even love and respect me, mostly, old mad bummer lady me, one of the great gifts of getting older. I still have tiny control issues, and offer too much advice and “help” to my poor family members, even though I’ve learned that help is the sunny side of control. But I’m way more gentle with me and amused by myself now, or perhaps I’m just foggy enough not to notice all the annoying things I do or say: it’s the grace of myopia.

My Texan friend Praise-the-Lord-Sarah told me nearly 37 years go when I got sober that God loved me exactly the way I was, and loved me way too much to let me stay like that. She also taught me about porch presents, which are gifts wrapped in newspaper that you secretly leave on a friend’s porch because you’re thinking of them. You’re grateful for their friendship or you know they are hurting, or for no reason at all. And my experience is that if we put on the better pair of glasses, we see porch presents everywhere, daffodils, leftovers in the fridge, sick friends healing, the sight of Neal out in the garden planting his tomatoes. So happy birthday to me, all of you. Will you give one another porch presents today to celebrate, help take care of the poor, talk to yourself like I would talk to you, gently and with good humor? That would make this the best birthday ever. Love you.—Anne Lamott

[quicktimeeventfull]

hey besite

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

❌

🧐

🎃

hello!!

🌞 do you have a preferred time of day to write?

nope!! i just write whenever. i often go by a coffee shop after work, though.

💖 what made you start writing?

re: fanfiction in particular, i was extremely obsessed with beyblade as a child & was absolutely devastated, destroyed and mentally broken when the first season ended. i did not have any concept of what to do with myself. it was like this:

but then i learned, presumably through neopets although honestly i don’t actually remember, that you could simply go online and read more stories about beyblade. there were like, hundreds. so i did that. however the stories did not have, in my opinion, an adequate quantity of extremely emo stories about kai hiwatari having agonies and woes, so i decided to take matters into my own hands and create some.

❌ is there a trope you would never write?

i can’t really see myself writing a story people get like, healed and fixed by love or tbh even fully healed and fixed in general. i like when they end up in a better state than they started but there should still be a little mess left over u know. i’m a chronic angst & agonies enjoyer so this is always a balance that comes up in things i’m reading & writing. i recently read a really good fic called throw me in the deep end, watch me drown which to me is like the gold standard of recovery-centric fics — it’s about people Getting Better but they’ve still got plenty of residual issues. that’s the good shit!!!

🧐 do you do a lot of research for fics?

yes and no!! tbh most of the stories i write don’t actually require a lot of research but i’ll throw myself into it if it comes up.

by and far the thing i’ve spent the most time researching in a serious way is forensic pathology & related subjects on account of being really into both beyond birthday and horror. i feel like when you’re engaging with violent horror there’s a weird balance to strike between like, being entertaining and being dismissively gleeful about what are ultimately real things that happen and it’s a lot easier to get it right if you’re grounding it in reality. idk!!! i don’t know if i always succeed in that respect BUT that’s what’s in my mind when i’m doing research. ethics of horror etc etc etc.

at this time though the very excellent lightyaoigami has been very generously offering me so much fascinating information about new york which is eventually going to go into a fic about light being a new yorker & also framing his husband for murder. that’s not research gfkjlgf bc it’s mostly me being blessed with monica’s knowledge but i feel it bears mentioning.

🎃 do you write fics for certain holidays? what is your favourite holiday inspired fic?

yes!!! hand me your hand (heavy tw for eds) is about a new year’s party and ghost stories is about christmas at the wammy house. i think hand me your hand is my favourite of the two.

i’ve also got two supernatural christmas fics — shame those stars and peculiar things plus canticle for the rightious man which isn’t technically a christmas fic but is very christmas flavoured. tbh i don’t really like peculiar things, i wrote it for a gift exchange & didn’t really budget my time well so it’s a bit of a mess, but i still really like canticle for the righteous man.

[omiscurls]

Hello you precious human! I saw you're taking request and I thought of something.. mabye you have an idea for this one, if not just ignore the ask >.< what if diluc and zhongli (seperate) don't know that their s/o is an artist and one day their sweetheart gifts them a full ass beautiful portrait of them. Maybe they had a hard day and you wanna make them feel better and surprise them or it's an anniversary gift idk, go wild with it ♡

Have a nice day ! Ily and thanks!

gift(ed)

a/n: thank you for this absolutely lovely ask! hope you enjoy reading this!

plot: the reader makes the character a portrait of them

contains: diluc, zhongli

warnings: none!

diluc

you know he hates his birthday, for very obvious reason

but what hurts even more when you hear it, is that from what his old friends say, he used to love it, once

it hurts to think that it became one more aspect of himself he has grown to forget

so you decide to do something about it

you know very well he doesn’t want any celebrations to be held, so therefore he also denies any gifts, but you can only hope he’ll accept this one

you work your ass off for a good long while, wanting it to be absolutely perfect, not one flaw on your canvas, worried he’d notice right away

when the time comes to finally gift it to him, you’re stressed beyond reason, sweaty palms probably ruining the nice packaging that covers the result of your relentless efforts. you have arranged to meet with diluc on starsnatch cliff, hoping to do it casually enough for him not to notice it’s a birthday thing, but also sure he will know, he’s far too intelligent to fall for anything like this, after all.

the sun begins to set as you sit down on the edge of the cliff, testing how far away from the stone can you move your foot without starting to feel dizzy.

the grass is already getting cold from the humidity of the night air, and you wonder if you should stand up after all, so not to stain your outfit.

it’s only a call of your boyfriend that rips you away from your train of thought.

“darling?” is what diluc says, voice uncertain as he stands below you “you asked to see me?”

you turn around, a welcoming smile crawling up your lips, and even though he doesn’t know the reason he’s here for yet, he already thinks it was worth it, just to see you, smiling like that in the field of cecilias.

“you’re here!” you exclaim happily, almost making him chuckle, because how could he not if it was you who asked?

you get up, careful not to show him the package behind your back too soon. he takes a big step forward, arm already securing you from the edge, hovering around your waist, but not touching you, still.

“let’s get further away from the edge, shall we?” he asks softly, and although you want to laugh at his endless worries, the love and care in his voice makes you swoon internally. “so?” he asks after making sure for your safety. “what’s with the scenery?”

“well” you grin, looking down at your feet, over the minute he’s been here he already managed to make you forget everything you had on your mind. “don’t take it as a birthday gift, cause it’s not that!” you explain rapidly, shaking your head “the only thing i wanted was to make you smile, or, i don’t know, the thing is, i hope you like it-“

you don’t quite know what to say, but diluc chooses to surprise you with a soft look you so rarely get to see.

“darling, it’s not like i have a phobia for birthday gifts or something” he assures “it just feels a bit weird to celebrate myself on such an anniversary, but i’m honored that you spent your time with me on your mind, i really am”

you feel more confident with that on your mind, and you hand him your gift.

he takes it, raising an eyebrow, slowly untying the ribbon you ornamented the packaging with. as he slowly unwraps the paper, his eyes notice something he genuinely didn’t expect. 

it’s a painting of him, or at least he thinks so, smiling with his eyes closed, hand tilted and resting on his hand, slight blush creeping up his cheeks. he wonders if that’s really him, but the physical resemblance is unquestionable, even though he doesn’t remember the last time he has seen this kind of expression on his face. 

“i-” he attempts to speak up, but stutters “where have you had this ordered?” 

you grin even wider, knowing the biggest surprise is yet to be dawned upon him. 

“i didn’t” you explain “i painted it myself, do you like it?” 

you catch a sparkle shoot through his eyes before he lifts them up from the painting to find yours. 

“no, really?” he asks in shock, quickly going back to admiring the gift. “it’s- you’re- you’re very talented, do you know that? it’s so detailed-” he shakes his head slightly, having a hard time comprehending all that was happening. 

“i managed to sneak a photo of you on our anniversary dinner” you say “i wouldn’t be able to paint this without a reference, plus, i’d like you to know what moment i based this on. if i’m able to make you smile like that from time to time, then i never want to stop.” 

you can swear his eyes glisten with a thin layer of tears forming, but he blinks them back as soon as possible, and you can’t get a good look. instead, he looks at you again, love practically seeping through his gaze. 

“thank you” he says quietly, smiling just how you like it, not even fully aware that he is. he approaches you to wrap an arm around you and press a quick peck to your forehead. “this just might be the best birthday i’ve ever had.” 

zhongli 

you’ve been to someone’s birthday party together 

and it came in the conversation between the two of you that he has never received a proper gift 

offering is not a gift 

it was a whole deal, with choosing the present for that person, wrapping it up, decorating...

and you decided - why not just make him something, with no occasion necessary? maybe he’ll like it, maybe he’ll just acknowledge it’s existence, worth a shot 

so there you are, waiting outside the parlor, gripping on the package in your hands, and waiting for him to come out. 

it feels like ages since the moment you arrived, but can’t be longer than a couple of minutes. zhongli has no liking to material possesions, and you’re aware of that, so you’re hoping he’ll value the effort and thought you’ve put into your gift. you know he’d never hurt your feelings, not on purpose, at the very least, but you’re still kind of worried. 

“hello there” you almost jump out in surprise as you hear a tranquil voice behind you. 

“oh my, you scared me!” you let out a breathy laugh, but he seems to have ignored your comment. 

“have you been waiting long?” he asks instead, to which you shake your head slightly. 

“no.” you say immediately, a gentle smile welcoming him as always. he nods and attempts to take your hand, intent to go on a walk in his mind, but stops, surprised as he feels the rectangular object in your hand. 

“oh, are we planning to go to someone’s party again today? i wish you’d included me in the gift picking process this time too, it was entertaining the last we did it” even though he says that, no disappointment shows up behind his eyes as he waits for your response. 

“ah, no, you see-” you take a breath “that’s actually for you” 

his eyebrow rises ever so slightly as he mentally studies what date is today and if he has forgotten about anything. 

“oh” he finally mumbles “and may i ask to what do i owe the pleasure?” 

his talent with words seems to be on his side, and he’s apparently able to talk himself out of the confusion you put him in. 

“to absolutely nothing” you shrug, smile growing bigger, as his mind spins even harder, not getting the point more now. “other than being my amazing person.” you add. 

he feels his heart flutter in a weird pattern, but ignores it as you place the gift in his hands. he just sort of looks at it for a while, and you’re already scared he’s going to say something unexpectable, but instead he starts to unwrap the thing gently and carefully. 

you watch his eyes widen as he sees himself, painted by your hand, the softest of smiles painting his expression in warm colours. to you, that’s just how he looks everyday, but to him?

this is just one of many forms to him. he doesn’t look in mirrors a lot, he doesn’t pay much mind to it, he never studies his appearance how others do. he doesn’t get insecure in a way humans do. 

it feels foreign to look at the picture. it feels as if he’s looking at someone, indoubtly at himself, but through your eyes instead. he never knew his eyes looked this kind, and that the corners of his lips didn’t lift evenly when he smiled, instead having one slightly above the other. 

you notice so many things, he realizes, and he looks up at you, a wandering gaze searching for your eyes, as he struggles to comprehend just how wonderful of a chance he had gotten to meet you. 

he had seen miracles come to life and crumble before him, but never once had he though he’d be one to witness something as beautiful as your love and your affections are. 

meanwhile you wonder if he’s searching for the right words to say you “just shouldn’t have” 

you almost speak up, about how you just felt like doing something like this, and he doesn’t have to keep it, or something, but he manages to comment before you do. 

“your work is gorgeous, dear.” he says blandly, but quickly adds “but you’re the best gift i could ever encounter.”

[justmyquietcorner]

TW ED AND SUICIDE (MY STORY)

TW ED AND SUICIDE

TW ED AND SUICIDE ( my story)Ok I’m a little scared, but let’s go...

    Very important!!!

this post is only and exclusively to show my way and show that it is not worth to enter into a bargain with Ana, because she will not leave you, she will always be trying to destroy your life. Unfortunately, I still believe her, but I want to finish what I intend to overcome her, she will help me, and when I manage to achieve what I plan, I would like to free myself from her

And please don't feel sorry for me

When I think about it, ed has always existed in me. I’ve always been taught that you don’t look good, and you never will.  I’ve always heard you can’t eat this; this is too much. You will become  overweight, just a moment longer and you  can’t fit in the door, look at your cousin, she looks great and what about you? Each time more and more. Adult people telling me when I was 7-8 years old that I shouldn’t eat that much, because I’m fat. All kids in my family  had candy in their gifts, but not me, because I was too big.   Grandmother, seeing me, no matter if I weight 50 or 30, will always say that I did not  loose weight and I don’t look good or I’m not enough.Still something, that made me feel that my weight was a determinant of my value, with each passing day more and more. If I’m too big, I’ll be worthless, but when I loose weight, I will again be worthy of love and relationships between people. I feel sorry for this little girl who was made aware that she was worth nothing and would achieve nothing.

January 2018.

 This was the one of three  hardest times for me.  I was 14 years old. I was 5 days before my 15 birthdays. One girl from my class who was my best friends. We can call her X. X was so angry because I was against her.  We argued. I don’t remember about what that was. But she was   so angry. She found  my old videos where I was 10 years or 9 idk.  I had vlogs and I sing. And she showed it to all the people in school. They sent link with the video.

But you can think, how do I know this? Because one boy from my school sent me  “by accident” that link with this message :

And you see this great song performed by Maria from  2 nd grade of middle school… From our  school. Watch it and send it on. Link….///….

 First, I was like. I’m not scared about that. But they started playing this in school. I was so fucking sad. Nobody  helped me, all people were against me. All laugh at me. And when I cried in school, teachers only said  to me: Maria stop crying. That’s your fault... You just should not have posted the video. So now, only you must fight with them. So, I stopped eating. Because I was  absolutely sure, that can help me. Maybe if I can have control in that, maybe I want to be  stronger. But 1 day before my 15th birthday I  took pills. My dad was in his new girlfriend´s house, so he didn’t know. It turned out that the pills were herbal with poor effect when I woke up the next morning  I’m just started to cry. Because I think about that I can’t nothing ,  even kill myself. So I started with anorex1a again.

    But    the greatest awakening  of anorex1a was 2019 and is 2022.  I never eat and now I don’t eat breakfast either because I can’t.  In  2019 it started by stopping eating dinner, after all, I don’t need food for the evening because I’m going to sleep. Then an idea came to me, what if I started cutting down lunch? At the same time, I noticed the weight loss which made me very happy. Every lower gram or kilogram down made me proud and happy. Each kilogram less made me feel that I was gaining more and more value. Then I started lying. I have never had lunch together. So, it was easier. My one and only thing that I had control over. I started to throw out lunches saying that I had eaten  and that  it tasted good. And I was losing weight more and more. “Ana’’ came. Our friend who says that she will make you perfect and make your life meaningful again. And that you will be in control. She said food makes me weak. Makes me worthless. She was hitting the most sensitive points to get me on her side. I didn’t eat, I lied more and more, and I lost more and more weight. I pushed important people away, pretending that I just didn’t need them. They tried to help me, and I tried to convince myself and other that I’m good, but I was doing myself a disservice. The weight knocked out 50. I decide that I would embrace myself and not give myself up  to myself and my head. I went  back to normal eating, which took me 1,5 years.

    In 2021 she came again .  After finding my ex's father who hanged himself, I was totally beheaded.  I couldn't sleep I couldn't eat.  Seeing the person who told me to kill myself and relieve the world, he did it himself.  Before his death, I had an argument with him.  I felt terrible and again Ana came back to my head,  and still sits there.  She said that after that, I still need her.  That was just only one thing which allowed me to be in control and feel a little better  I have to fight again to be valuable.  These are her words. I have lost more than 15 kilos and my head is telling me more and more. I can’t  overcome it, so I went back to Ana. Now I live alone so I don’t have to hide that  . I just don’t eat, and  I know it doesn’t hurt anyone because nobody knows and nobody needs to  know. Everyone thinks that all is  normal and that everything is beautiful, but it is not. I smoke to curb hunger. I have ADHD drugs in medicine, and they also suppress hunger. Sometimes I have days when I try to eat normally, but then I get on my weight, and I see the numbers. And again, as if a big hammer hit my head. I have to lose weight again and I hear that soft voice saying that I am worthless and to mean something again  I have to lose weight. That’s why it’s just me and Ana now. Nobody can change that because she sits to tightly on me. It sits like some parasite that refuses  to leave its host. Maybe someday I will win. Maybe I will die because of her. I can’t define it.  But I hope I´m going to win But I know one thing is for sure. I’m a different person than I was and Ana has changed me. For better or worse idk. I can’t explain that. But I feel she’s the only one who actually understands. Although she has a lot of rigor, saying that if I do not weigh less than x, I can’t eat, but I know that thanks to her I will be valuable again and I will deserve a love that I do not have. Ana I know you hear me, because you are in me,  please help me deserve warmth and love and make me worthwhile again. Because if you can´t do this nobody can. If you fail, I need to leave this world. I want to try other things too, before I reach the final one. Therefore, please be with me for a while, we’ll  see if we can make it. Moments longer, until I believe that we will be able to fix it. Maybe if I deserve  love, so I can win with you. Maybe if I can find the right person who can understand me that can make me free from you, but first, I need you because I need to be good and enough as a person. If I´m done with that so we can  split up and go two different directions.

m

[y0itsbri]

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

[tippingovertheedge]

sigh ok after a week where i fell off the wagon three out of seven days, i took a long hard look at myself in the mirror (metaphorically) and told myself to be realistic and get a grip. my birthday is inching closer and closer and my goal isn’t looking possible. i mean in theory i could starve myself  for these fifty days and theoretically lose all that weight but i know me by now and i know that trying to do that is likely going to result in lots of slipping off the wagon and the self-berating and self-hatred that follows then. and all that will happen and i still won’t reach my goal. and i really don’t want that for myself! i’m an adult! i should act like it!

i think what’s triggered these unhealthy patterns over the last month (and it really was the last month - october was absolutely just Diet Month) was the pressure of trying to reach my gw by the week before my birthday all so i could do that little triumphant instagram post about losing all this weight and choosing health for myself as a birthday gift. 

but it’s ok that i can’t. growing up and maturing is realising things don’t work out the way you planned. it doesn’t mean you can’t decide things - you can! and you can take steps to achieve your goals, but it also means you’re not the only decider of things in life and that’s ok. 

for now it’s my ugw i have in my sights. i want to hit that by march, which is when i might be heading on my first vacation since panini times. i know i know. it’s just another goal weight and another goal date and who’s to say the same won’t happen? i can’t say. but to reach that goal in four months allows me to leave a fairly generous/doable deficit. so here’s the plan:

current weight: 62.3kg, though i had mcdonald’s late last night. these days i weigh in more at a ~60kg

goal weight: 45kg

15kg to lose over 4 months -> 3.75kg a month

goal weight loss rate: 4.5kg a month, which is a daily 1100 calorie deficit

here i’m thinking ‘aim high’. even if i fall short (and i likely will! once more i’ve been doing this for a year and i know myself by now) it should still put me close to 3.75kg/month and i'll still be at 45 in march

and here’s what i’m going to remind myself so i can be kinder to myself:

bad days will happen

period cravings and work stress will lead to days where you just want to eat a lot of oily food. there’s always a next day and we try again then!

it’s fine to let go a little bit on special occasions

i’m still going to do the big birthday feast i planned of cake and blonde biscuits and a stuffed crust pizza because all things considered i HAVE worked really hard to get where i am! and u only turn 28 once :)

more importantly i’m booking myself a full body check-up in december and i hope the doctor gives me a clean bill of health

you didn’t lose all this weight in a day. you’re not going to gain it all back in a day

all in all i think i’m in a good place to keep this up for the rest of my life. my weight loss has been gradual - 20kg in a year - and in the process my lifestyle has changed. yeah i still really enjoy fast food but i can cook for myself using whole ingredients! i genuinely really like cauliflower rice and salads and i love love love running as far as my little legs will take me. 

running has been so important for me in staying mentally healthy too (specifically not veering too far into ed territory i THINK lol). i think part of why thinspo images don’t really work on me is that i don’t especially want to look super thin. i love running so when i look at my legs and they’re thick i know that’s the muscle i’ve built up from training and big legs are strong legs and they’re gonna keep me running. 

truly it’s just my flabby arms i HATE and my desire to be underweight is because i’m absolutely certain my arms are my last fat defences. my fat is distributed such that when i lose weight, the arm fat will be the last to go. so i have to lose ALL of it before my arms look thin. 

ok ok. i have a day to get to. today will be a good day! i’m going to prep my salad ingredients for the week, do a bit of work, and if the weather holds up, i’ll go to a cafe for a cupcake and a coffee and then take a long walk home. life’s good i’m good lots to live for ❤️

[littleredlie]

Malignant (S1P2)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical, on her sister’s birthday she tries to stay focused on her patients without her emotions getting in the way, but it gets more difficult when a friend is in the hospital and her ex is lurking around. Based off S1E5 of Chicago Med.

5.3k+ Words

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Will Halstead, Natalie Manning, April Sexton, Maggie Lockwood, Ethan Choi, Daniel Charles, Sharon Goodwin, Connor Rhodes, Jay Halstead, Sam Zanetti, Kelly Severide, Christopher Herrmann Warning: Patient death, some cursing, angst, medical details that may or may not be wrong.  A/N: Sorry I posted later than usual, yesterday was quite the day. Enjoy!

Part One

The morning was running a bit slow, not that Morgan didn’t appreciate it. She didn’t get any sleep last night and the coffee she was sipping was not helping at all. She could barely focus on the notes in front of her as memories of her older sister kept flashing in front of her eyes. Eventually she gives up and tears her eyes away from the glaring screen. Leaning back in the chair, she notices Mrs. Goodwin talking to Detective Halstead and Lt. Severide. She keeps looking for a moment, wondering what they were talking about. Momentarily, the detective’s eyes sweep over the ED’s space and they land on her. She quickly looks back down to the computer and tries to peek from her peripheral to see if he’s stopped looking. He has, but Morgan doesn’t want to be caught looking again so she forces herself to continue looking at the computer screen.

Her attention is brought back up again when she notices the detective walk toward where she was sitting. Her heart rate picks up a little as he nears her, but then she realizes that Will is standing right next to her. The detective doesn’t even take notice of Morgan's presence, and honestly that stung her a little bit. She clenches her jaw and continues forcing herself to look at the screen, when she fails again, she decides to eavesdrop on the detective and Will’s conversation.

“Can I ask you a doctor question?” Jay asks and Morgan notices the familiarity, she knew they were brothers of course, but she only witnessed their relationship a few times before.

“Sure, come on.” The brothers walk away a little to gain some privacy, but Morgan is still able to hear them. As she did move her chair a bit more to the right and turned so that her ear was exposed to them. 

“Um, Herrmann?” His voice kind of hesitant

“Yeah,” Will asks, not fully paying attention.

“If he’d come in on your watch, would you have waited so long before doing anything?” It takes so much of the eavesdropping doctor’s will to not turn around and butt in, but she couldn’t. Jay and her weren’t close and eavesdropping on a colleague’s private conversation was not the best course of action.

“That’s a tough call.” Will sighs out. “It’s been a while since my surgical residency. And, you know, I wasn’t there for the exam so it’s hard to say.” Morgan could tell that Will was trying not to insinuate anything negative on Connor’s behalf and she hoped that Jay would take it, but he continues to egg on.

“Yeah, just in general.” He asks and Will basically gives in.

“In general?” He pauses for just a second, “ yeah, I probably would have gone in.” Natalie gives Morgan a smile as she walks by and Morgan almost misses it, but manages to throw one right back at her. “But, uh, again, I wasn’t there.”

At that Morgan scoffs and abruptly stands up, grabbing her tablet. She turns towards the brothers and tries to make a clean getaway, but Will stops her.

“Hey, Morgan.”

Morgan halts and closes her eyes, as if to calm herself, and hopes that something will fall out of the sky and allow her to be taken into a trauma room for treatment, but no such luck. She breathes out and slowly turns towards the Halstead brothers. “Yes, Dr. Halstead?” She questions, trying to keep her eyes off of Jay.

“I’d like you to meet my brother,” he points to the detective who Morgan can tell has gotten a little uncomfortable, but he sports a little grin on his face. “This is Jay. Jay, this is Dr. Morgan Fitzgerald.” He introduces the two, not knowing that they already know each other.

“Hi, Detective Halstead,” Morgan says, the tight smile on her face slightly distorting her words. Jay gives her a look, his eyes quickly darting to his brother, who is oblivious to what is going on. Morgan holds out a hand to him and he takes it, shaking gently.

“Hi, doctor. It’s nice to meet you.” His calloused hand was in hers for a little too long and she could remember the first time they were in hers. The actual first time they met. 

December 2013 

Morgan’s eyes were cast down to the tablet in front of her, but she was zoning out. One hand was stuffed in the pocket of her white coat, clutching the bracelet that she received for her birthday last year. A gift from her sister Olivia. Hayden had insisted that she stay home instead of forcing herself into work, but she needed a distraction. But now it seemed that it wasn’t working, especially after that last patient. She looked too much like Olivia. 

Morgan’s focus continues to deplete as she stared like a statue, a few onlookers getting concerned. Especially Maggie.“Dr. Fitzgerald?” Her name falls on deaf ears as Morgan continues to stare at the screen. “Dr. Fitzgerald!” Maggie’s voice raises and Morgan finally snaps out of her trance.

“Sorry Maggie.” The doctor whips her head up and looks to the nurse. “What do you need?” She places the tablet on the desk and stuffs her hand back into the pockets of her scrubs. Maggie pauses for a few seconds, looking at the doctor with concern before finally turning to face the body behind her. 

“This is Detective Halstead, he is on your Jane Doe’s case.” Morgan’s eyes finally land on the freckled man standing behind the charge nurse. Morgan could tell that he was handsome and it stuns her for a minute. He had freckles sprinkled all over his face and soft colored eyes. 

It’s his voice that makes her pay attention.“Detective Halstead,” he repeats, holding his hand out for her. She takes it and his hand basically envelops hers. They were warm and calloused and hers were cold and smooth. A slight grin is on his face and Morgan thinks it compliments his face so much more.

“Dr. Fitzgerald.  Morgan.” Their hands finally pull apart and Morgan doesn’t really like the emptiness the action left behind. “Jane Doe is up in ICU, I can take you.” She puts an arm out pointing in the direction towards the elevator and the detective begins walking. Maggie gives Morgan a look, her eyes flashing between the doctor’s tired face and the detective’s receding back. “Thanks for your help Maggie,” her eyes widened, as if she was telling the nurse to stop it. 

Maggie just laughs and continues doing her job.Morgan finally walks up to Detective Halstead and presses the up button for the elevator. “So, I’ve never seen you around here before.” Morgan says, her eyes not on Halstead but the descending number as the elevator headed for their floor.

“Yeah, I just started with the Intelligence Unit.” He sheepishly says.

“Well congratulations.” She nods, not sure what else to say. She didn’t understand why it was taking the elevator so damn long to get there. “I’ve been here a little over a year myself. If you ever want a tour of the best places in Chicago, I am your girl.” She says, not knowing that he was also a Chicago native.

“Are you asking me out?” He says, a teasing tone obviously present and an amusing look on his face. Morgan chokes a laugh out, a little surprised and a little flabbergasted. She had no idea what to say cause that wasn’t her intention, but it wouldn’t be a bad thing if they did end up going out. Before she could open her mouth to say anything the bell dings, signifying that the elevator had arrived. 

The brunette steps in first as Morgan is still trying to comprehend their conversation. She slowly steps in beside him and presses the button for the ICU’s floor. After a long day of sulking and mourning, a small smile finally shows up on her face as she takes in the presence that Detective Jay Halstead emitted.

Jay squeezes her hand slightly, and it pulls Morgan out of the memory. She rips her hand out of his too quickly after noticing how long she must’ve been holding it. Will actually notices this time and opens his mouth to say something to her, but she beats him to it.

“I’m sorry Jay, but I have a patient to take care of. It was nice meeting you.” before either brother could say anything to her, she turns around and bolts out of the ED. 

         ❦

Later on, Morgan is making her way up to Lt. Herrmann’s room to check on him and Connor. She had heard that he was beating himself up about his decision about his patient and it didn’t help that there were others questioning his decision as well. When she arrived at the room, Kelly was also peering in. The lieutenant doesn’t notice her as he’s too busy glaring at Connor. 

“You think it might’ve helped if you hadn’t waited so long?” Kelly asks and Morgan’s breath sits in her chest as she throws an accusing look at her acquaintance. He still doesn’t notice her standing next to him.

“Excuse me?” Connor turns, his eyes dashing to you quickly before landing on the firefighter.

“If you’d operated on him when we brought him in. Not waited.”

“Are you talking to me about medicine right now?”

“I’m talking to you about my friend,” Kelly points towards the unconscious Chris.

“Look, I’m gonna say this once, because he is my friend too.” He breathes out “I did what was right.”

“Well, some of your fellow docs don’t agree.”

“Really?” Connor steps closer, and Morgan steps forward as well, ready to throw herself between them if she had to. “Odd that they would share that with you and not me.” The men begin to glare each other down and Morgan forces herself from beside them. She puts herself between them, her back towards Connor and she looks up at the lieutenant.

“Lieutenant Severide, can I have a word with you?” He doesn’t stop glaring at Connor and Morgan can feel the tension continue to rise. “Kelly,” Morgan says sternly and he finally looks at her. She places a hand on his arm, tugs him away from the situation, and to a secluded corner. Connor turns away and walks down the hall, Morgan watches him before he disappears and she turns back to Kelly.

“What the hell was that Kelly?” Her arms are crossed across her chest and she huffs out, an angered look on her face. Kelly looks at her for a second before taking a few steps away. “Kelly!”

“His decision could’ve cost Chris his life! If he had operated sooner, we wouldn’t be in this position!” He practically yells, but Morgan doesn’t jump, instead she keeps her eyes on him.

“And you’re so sure about that?” He gives her a look of disbelief, a scoff escaping his lips.

“Of course you side with him.”

“Really Kelly,” this time she scoffs, “that’s how you want to do this?” 

“Yeah, that’s how we’re doing this doctor.”

“Well Lieutenant, last time I checked you were a firefighter, not a doctor. Given the information that Dr. Rhodes had, he made the appropriate decision. A decision I would have made as well.” The agitated firefighter doesn’t look the doctor in the eye, instead glancing to his colleague’s recovery room. “Now questioning a decision that has been said and done will do nothing to help Herrmann, we are doing our absolute best to make sure that he will be okay. Pitting the doctors that are supposed to be taking care of him against each other will not help.” He finally looks down at her, trying to glare her down but she doesn’t back away. “Go walk it off Kelly.” Morgan says with a softer tone, her eyes pleading. And without waiting for a reply from him, she walks away, hoping that her words would persuade him to calm down. 

         ❦

Morgan’s staring off into the distance, obviously upset. The day just seemed to dredge on and she constantly found herself thinking about her sister, which work was supposed to distract her from. For some reason, today was different. Her right hand was fiddling with the bracelet, as it always did on an anniversary related to Olivia. 

“Morgan, you okay?” Will pulls up next to the distracted doctor, looking down at a patient’s charts.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just lost a patient.” She wasn’t necessarily lying. She did lose a longtime patient to cancer, but she didn’t delve deeper into how the day just seemed to be tainted in death for her. But after all these years Will knew when she was lying, she happened to bite her lip whenever she was. 

“Are you sure Morgan, you’ve been a little off today.” He sits in the seat next to her, turning it to have his whole body face her.

“I’m okay Will,” she snaps before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She slips the bracelet into her pocket and Will notices but decides not to push since she seemed to be stressed already. “It just sucks that we can’t save everyone, you know. People keep dying and sometimes all we can do is watch.” She shrugs at the end of her sentence and turns her chair away so that she isn’t facing him anymore. He didn’t know why she didn’t just let him in, they’ve been friends ever since he came back to Chicago and started at Med. 

“Morgan–” He isn’t allowed to continue as Maggie’s voice arises from somewhere in the ED.

“Rhodes and Halstead, we’ve got an incoming!” The charge nurse’s eyes on the cube in her hands as she begins directing the doctors. 

“Got it!” Rhodes says grabbing some gloves from a box. 

“Wanna help us out?” Will asks Morgan, nodding his head towards the doors.

“Sure,” Morgan shrugs nonchalantly. Will nods, still a little concerned for her, but he allows for the two of them to get to work..

“What do we got?” Connor asks as he, Morgan, and Will make their way up to the bay doors. Morgan pulls the gloves on her hands as the paramedic reports.

“25-year-old witnessed seizure in the street. She was clipped by a swerving car. GCS 3, intubated in the field.” They continue moving her deeper into the ED, turning to wheel her into the trauma room. “102 over 60, tachy at 110.”

“Alright, on my count.” Dr. Rhodes starts, “One, two, three.” Together, the team moves her onto the treatment table. “Give me a laryngoscope to confirm the tube. X-rays of the chest and pelvis, then to CT for a pan-scan.”

“Yes, doctor.” A nurse answers.

Morgan has her stethoscope on her chest, listening. “This isn’t a trauma. She went down before she was hit.” Dr. Halstead says to his colleagues hoping that it would change the route of treatment.

“But we don’t know the damage, she was hit by a car.” Connor rebutes quickly.

“Because she had a seizure,” Halstead says back.

Morgan huffs out a breath and focuses on the patient. “She’s tachy. Sats are down.” A nurse says and Morgan nods.

“Alright, let’s give her 500 milligrams of keppra.” Morgan says after viewing her pupil reaction with a light.

“Yes, doctor.” A nurse answers and proceeds.

“She’s got a chemo port.” April points out after cutting the patient’s shirt off.

“I’m telling you, the money’s in the seizure. We gotta figure that out,” Will reassures trying to get Morgan to agree. “Get a CBC, CMP, HCG, and a tox screen. Tell CT we’re going for the head only, not the whole body.” Before April could step away to put in the orders, Connor interrupts.

“No, tell CT that we’re going for the whole body. Now.” The tension in that small treatment room was suffocating for Morgan, if she wasn’t so focused on the patient, she might’ve gone off on her coworkers. “Must be nice, having so many opinions.” Connor bites.

“I have opinions about how I handle incoming patients. I don’t like that QT on the monitor.”

“On it!”

“You by any chance share those opinions with your brother?”

“What, Herrmann?” Will asks, but he knows the answer. “Look, Jay asked, so I told him.” 

Before Connor could say something again, Morgan interrupts with a growl, “Boys, not now!” They give Morgan a look, but drop the issue returning their undivided attention back to the unconscious patient.

“What’s happening?” A new voice enters the room and Doris interjects, trying to pull her out of the room. A chime on the monitor goes off and pulls everyone’s attention to it.

“She’s in V-tach!” Morgan states and a nurse gives off her blood pressure. “I can’t get a pulse.

“We need a crash cart, start compressions, now!” Connor orders and Will begins.

“We’re losing her.” The flatline corroborates that statement, but Will continues compressions.

“Charge to 200. Clear!”

Dr. Halsted pulls his hands off of Dani’s chest,“clear!” And Dr. Rhodes shocks her. When nothing happens, Will continues compressions, waiting for the next shock. 

“Come on, come Dani.” Morgan watches Will performing CPR. For some reason the doctor’s heart was beating out of her chest, a pit was forming at the bottom of her stomach, she couldn’t lose her.

“Milligram of epi.”

“One of epi.” April repeats.

“Clear!”

Will again pulls his hands off her chest again, “clear!” And they do it again, shocking Dani while her partner pleads from the door of the room. When nothing happens again, this time it’s Dr. Fitzgerald that orders another round of epi, but everyone hesitates. 

“Dr. Fitzgerald.” April starts, but Morgan isn’t having it.

“Now.” Morgan steps in the way of Will and continues compressions on the patient’s chest.

“One of epi,” April says, knowing it’s a lost cause.

“Stop compressions,” Connor says after a moment, but Morgan doesn’t stop. 

“Dr. Fitzgerald,” Will starts, putting a hand on Morgan’s back, but she continues. “Morgan,” he says softly this time and she finally pulls herself away, staring at the dead patient in front of her. Will gives her a concerned look, as he notices the crumpling look on her face.

“Time of death: 16:21.” At that Morgan lets a breath out and the woman at the door begins to cry. Morgan rips off her gloves and steps out of the room, not willing to see the heartbreaking scene in front of her. 

Why did today have to be so suffocating for her? Her eyes begin to tear up and without stopping she lightly jogs out through the lobby to the front of the building. The tears finally escaped down her face. With her hands on her hips, she looks up to the night sky trying her hardest to stop crying and to control her breathing.

“Morgan?” She recognizes the voice and at that moment she wants the world to swallow her whole, she didn’t want him to see her like this. Looking down, she sees Jay Halstead approaching her body and unknowingly she steps back, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you okay?” There is genuine concern in his eyes, they’re gentle and she remembered how much she missed looking into his eyes.

Morgan roughly wipes away her tears and sniffles, not yet looking at him. “I’m fine, Jay.” She pauses, not sure on how much to tell him. “Just lost a patient, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” He pushes, knowing she’s hiding something.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, hell, it barely makes it past her lips.

“You’ve been a doctor for over three years now Morgan, I’ve never seen you react–.”

“Well Jay, we only dated for seven months and you’ve barely spoken to me in the last two years. I’ve changed.” She snaps, interrupting him, trying her hardest to mask any other reason for her to break down this easy.

“You don’t have to talk to me, I get it.” He puts himself in her point of view, forcing her to finally look at him. “But talk to someone, please.” He looks at her waiting for some type of response. Unwittingly, a tear escapes Morgan’s eyes and she hesitantly nods. Jay gives her a soft smile.

“So,” he starts trying to lighten the mood, “you didn’t tell my brother about us.” At that Morgan gives out a short chuckle, wiping the tears away and fully turning towards the detective.

“No, I didn’t. There was no point in doing so,” Morgan shrugs, seeing a hint of amusement in his eyes. “We were broken up and I wasn’t here for even a year yet, didn’t want to ruin the dynamic that Will and I were building.” She glances away, before a realization arises in her mind. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“I guess for the same reason,” he shrugs now, but his voice is soft.

“How’re things with Erin?” Jay grimaces, but Morgan laughed. His partner was the reason she broke up with him, she didn’t feel like becoming a second choice. She didn’t feel like competing against a woman that he spent so much time with where she barely saw due to their hours. If you love them, gotta let them go, right?

“Things are good, we’re good.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you. Really.” He looks at her, a solemn look on his face, words ready to pour out about their past relationship. Morgan, however, doesn’t want to hear it, she spent months trying to get over the handsome detective, she didn’t need him to dredge up old feelings. Gladly, her pager goes off and she sees that she’s being called to check up on another one of her patients. “Are you here to see Will or something?”

Jay is confused at her question at first before realizing that the opportunity to talk had passed. “Yeah, yeah I am”

“I’ll walk you in.” Together the two walk into the hospital, muttering a quick goodbye. Will exits the ED and sees the interaction between his brother and Morgan, he glimpses at the comfortable  aura between them and makes a note to address it later, after he confronted his brother about their conversation earlier.

         ❦

After discharging a patient that was wheeled in earlier, Morgan’s phone beeps and she fishes it out from the pocket of her scrubs. It was from Dr. Charles. The doctor was anxious, hoping that this wasn’t a talk about her overreacting behavior with Dani. Taking a deep breath to call her nerves, she makes her way down to the morgue. When she gets to the hallway that leads to her destination, she is caught up with Will and Connor. They greet each other, but Morgan ignores them, and she especially ignores the concerning looks that they were both giving her. The boys stop in front of the morgue’s door, but Morgan does not feel like sticking around for their conversation, so she walks in between them and enters.

Dr. Charles is standing in the room alongside the medical examiner and he greets her. “Dr. Fitzgerald, here.” He hands her a sheet and she looks down to it. It’s the results for her patient, Dani who was lying dead in front of her. Morgan takes the paper and takes a step away from the body, Dr. Charles notices. Soon, Halstead and Rhodes step into the room. “Gentlemen,” Dr. Charles says, also handing them a sheet.

Rhodes looks down and reads the results, coming to the same conclusion Morgan did when she read it. “Dani OD’ed on chemo. That explains why she seized in the street.”

Dr. Charles nods and gives a sigh out, “that’s not the troubling part. Yeah, she was loaded up on chemo. But this woman,” he says to Dr. Fitzgerald, “never had cancer.” It was like he was trying to tell her that she could not have saved her, that it wasn’t her fault that she was gone. 

All Morgan knew was that it didn’t help.

         ❦

Now, Dr. Choi, Dr. Halstead, Dr. Rhodes, and Dr. Fitzgerald stood in Mrs. Goodwin’s office listening to Dr. Charles’s hypothesis about the two women who OD'd on chemo.

“Two patients in one day overdose on chemo and neither had cancer.” He hands something to Mrs. Goodwin while Morgan goes through the patients’ charts.

“Which, I must admit, does seem suspicious.” Goodwin replies, setting her glasses on her nose.

“Well, it could be a new oncologist in town making incorrect diagnoses.” Connor remarks, but doesn’t sound like he has convinced himself.

“Or even just mixing up a few charts,” Dr. Choi adds.

“Yeah, but even then, why the overdoses?” Morgan asks, finally looking up to the people in the room. “And on the same day? It doesn’t add up.”

“What do we know about these women?” Sharon asks, taking off the glasses and pointing her attention to Dr. Charles.

“Jessica’s note said she felt betrayed.” He answers her.

“And Dani’s girlfriend said Dani was upset about something, but wouldn’t talk about it,” Will speaks up.

“Something was going on with both of these women,” the psychiatrist continues.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any medical records, and no information that might link them.” Morgan points out looking back to the charts, trying to find some reason as to why they overdosed on chemo.

Goodwin brainstorms out loud, “I’m going to get in touch with some local oncologists, see if there have been any problems with their chemo or if they’ve had other patients in the same condition. Thank you,” she nods to the doctors and they begin to head out. Connor places his hand on Morgan’s lower back and leads the two of them away from Choi and Halstead.

“Hey, are you okay?” The look on his face shows that he knows what she’s going through.

“Um,” Morgan hesitates and breathes out, looking down the hall where Will seems to be waiting for her. “Yeah, it’s just that–” Morgan trails off, looking everywhere but Connor’s eyes.

“It’s Olivia’s birthday,” he finishes for her and almost immediately, tears begin to cloud Morgan’s eyes. She collapses against her friend, his arms immediately wrapping around her.

Will watched them, he watched how open and vulnerable Morgan was with Rhodes. He understood that they knew each other since their childhood, but Rhodes has been gone for the past few years, and Will had been there instead. Or maybe he hadn’t been, as he looked at Morgan sobbing in Rhodes’s arms, he wondered if he ever really knew her, if she could ever allow him in her life like she allows Connor. He walks away from them, giving them space and himself time to think.

Connor reluctantly pulls away from Morgan, wiping away the tears from her face. “She would’ve been 32 years old, possibly married, maybe a few kids. I don’t know, I’ll never know,” Morgan whispers the last part, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know why I’m letting this affect me so much.” She angrily sighs out, turning away from Connor.

He lays a hand on her shoulder, “It was barely four years ago and Olivia was brutally murdered, it’s gonna take time. Maybe you should talk to Dr. Charles.”

“Well how much time until I am so distracted that I end up affecting a patient?” She yells, receiving a few annoyed and confused looks from some bystanders. At this time Dr. Charles is stepping out of Goodwin’s office and his attention is brought to the two arguing doctors. Morgan doesn’t want to be analyzed by the psychiatrist and she’s tired of the look of pity on Connor’s face, so she decides to remove herself from the situation.

“Morgan–”Connor begins, but she has already begun to walk away.

         ❦

The end of her shift was two hours ago, but she was still at the hospital, on the roof staring at the Chicago skyline. She couldn’t go home, she knew she wasn’t gonna be able to get any sleep tonight. A breeze danced around the doctor’s body and she tried her hardest to retreat deeper into her jacket, but it wasn’t helping much. The wind pushed the curls of her hair to brush against her face and despite this very reason, Morgan liked having her natural hair out. She felt a little bit more in control, a bit more free, a bit more beautiful. The braids she had in her hair last month were getting harder to handle, so she was okay with letting her hair and scalp breathe for a bit. Over the years her hair grew remarkably well and she was starting to feel a lot more confident in herself. Maybe she’d let it out longer than a few weeks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were still here.” Morgan turns to Connor’s voice, he’s walking towards her.

“Yeah, I have a patient downstairs that I don’t want to leave.” He looks at her, knowing that she’s not telling the whole truth. But he doesn’t push her, at least not for now.

“I heard what you did for me today.” He leans next to her on the railing, his eyes peering out as well.

“What? With Kelly?” She asks and Connor nods. “It’s no big deal. They’re all one big family and can get a little hostile without noticing. I just had a little talk with him.”

“How long had you known him?”

“I met him shortly after I started my residency here, through an ex.”

“An ex?” He chuckles, “who?”

“Someone not important. He’s not really in my life anymore. But after deciding to maintain my paramedic license, I rode along a few times with their station and got close to them. I had hoped I could use my relationship with them as an advantage to talk Kelly down.”

“Well thanks.” He nudges her and she smiles, “however, you don’t always have to come to my rescue. Especially when you won’t let me come to yours.”

“It’s not that Connor, it’s just that sometimes there’s this look you give me. Like I’m broken and you want to fix me. I already get it from the rest of my family, and from Hayden. I don’t want that from you.”

“I understand, but it’s because I care about you Morgan.” He slings an arm around her shoulder and she leans against him.

“I appreciate it, and I promise that I’ll let you know if I need rescuing. But for now, let me just have my best friend, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll hold you to that promise.” He chuckles. For a moment, they’re quiet, leaning against each other, letting their troubles past them even for just a moment.

“So, you and Dr. Zanetti? I did not see that coming.” She looks at Connor skeptically and he scoffs at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He looks down at Morgan, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know, it’s just that she’s her and you’re you. She’s the definition of an egotistical surgeon and you’re not.” Connor looks at her, urging her to continue, but Morgan knows it’s not her place. “But that’s just my opinion, I’m sure she’s nice and you wouldn’t be dating her if there wasn’t something there.”

“Is there some history between the two of you.” He asks, removing his arm from around the ED doctor.

“Just some disagreements on invasive versus less invasive procedures, it’s not a big deal. Don’t let my professional troubles ruin your personal life.” Connor nods his head, still a little wary of Morgan’s attitude towards his girlfriend. As he should be, Morgan felt a little jealousy clawing away at her insides, she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like Connor was going to disappear out of her life now that he was dating Sam. Or maybe it was the fact that Morgan wasn’t his girlfriend, but that thought never crossed her mind.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“God, no. I don’t have the time for dates or caring about another person’s schedule. I did it a while in 2013, we dated, but we had opposite schedules and so I ended it.”

“When did you first get here? Morgan, that was almost three years ago!”

“No it was, two years ago. We broke up in 2014 and I just haven’t made time to go out.”

“God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine with it.” She shrugs and Connor just shakes his head, not really understanding her decision. If only he understood that the universe was working against the two, it was never the right time for the both of them.

“Come on Morgan, let me drive you home.” Morgan nods and the two of them make their way down to the first floor. She could feel a little bit of the weight rising off of her shoulders as the two of them finally left the hospital.

Part Three

[purplesurveys]

1149

A

What is your age? 22, but there’s less than a month to go before I turn 23.

What annoys you? Literally every single person who still supports the government at this point. For context, we are back to square one and we’re under the exact same quarantine imposed in March 2020 because of the surge in cases. Nothing has changed and nothing has been done in the last 365 days while people are getting hungrier and poorer. I’m done feeling hopeful for this country and I cannot wait to abandon it forever.

Do you have any allergies? Apparently, grass. Can’t be exposed to it for too long otherwise the skin on my thighs turn red and occasionally even get rashes.

B

Do you know anyone named Billy? Kind of, but they’re girls with their name spelled as Billie.

When is your birthday? April 21st and spending it in quarantine once again this year...

Who is your best friend(s)? Angela and Andi.

C

What's your favorite candy? I like gummy bears and worms. As for sweets, I really like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Butterfinger, Twix, and the Hershey’s Cookies and Creme bar.

When was the last time you cried? Maybe a day or two ago while watching a snippet from Caught in Providence.

Have you been out of the country? Yes.

D

Do you daydream? Not so much these days. I’ve been better at keeping my focus at work.

What's your favorite kind of dog? I love alllllll dogs, but I’d usually be wary of smaller dogs because 87% of the times I’ve met some, they’re aggressive or a bit moody. I don’t like stereotyping dogs as much as possible but because I’ve had direct experiences to back it up anyway, *shrug*

What day of the week is it? It’s a Sunday.

E

How do you like your eggs? Scrambled, poached, or an omelette with lots of fillings. Balut is also great.

Have you ever been in the emergency room? Only when I was born, I’m guessing.

What's the easiest thing ever to do? Idk, what comes easy to me might not be the same for others. But my answer would be to smile, regardless if it were genuine or otherwise.

F

Have you ever flown in a plane? Yeah, many times. The child-like excitement I get whenever I get on one will probably never go away, either.

Do you use fly swatters? No, my mom usually uses old shoebox covers or rolled-up scratch papers we have lying around to swat them.

Have you ever used a foghorn?: Only in video games lol, never in real life.

G

Have you pet a goat? I don’t think I have. I’ve pet lots of animals before but I don’t think a goat has been one of them yet.

Are you a giver or a taker? Giver, but I’ve been allowing myself to take more these days.

Do you like gummy candies? Love them.

H

How are you? We’ve entered summer weather now, so I feel hot and miserable. It’s also Sunday and I am stuck at home, which doesn’t make me the happiest camper.

What's your height? 5′1″ or a tiny tiny tiny bit taller than that.

What color is your hair? It’s black but on extremely rare occasions I’ll catch a single light brown strand when I play with my hair.

I

What's your favorite ice cream? Cookies and cream and chocolate chip cookie dough. My friend Leigh actually started her own ice cream shop recently and I bought her coffee crumble ice cream, and it is sooooooooo fuckinggggggggg good??????? It’s so rare to find coffee ice cream where I live period, so I’m fucking stoked to have a close friend who makes literally the best one and in generous servings too.

Have you ever ice skated? Many times as a kid. I was never formally trained, but it was something I wanted to try from watching other kids play in mall ice skating rinks; and when I did give it a shot, I ended up enjoying it. Luckily my mom was encouraging and actually frequently dropped me off at a rink so I can practice gliding and all for a few hours while she ran errands.

Have you cheated the IRS? That’s like an American tax thingy, right? We don’t have that here and my employer handles my TIN.

J

What's your favorite jelly bean? Not a big fan but if I had to have Jelly Belly, I obviously would want to get the pleasant-tasting ones.

Do you tell jokes? Yes.

Do you wear nice jewelry? Only on special occasions.

K

Do you want to kill anybody? I don’t want to kill anybody but I certainly wish a good number of public officials would finally die.

Do you want to have kids? Yes. I really wish I could still have a future with them. Thanks for the trauma, my real asshole of an ex.

Where did you have kindergarten? Somewhere.

L

Are you laidback? I doubt my friends would use this to describe me. I for sure lean more towards the uptight side of the spectrum.

Do you lie? Eh, occasionally.

When is the last time you sent a hand-written letter? I have no idea. Christmas 2019 maybe?

M

Ever talked in a microphone? Sure. Many times.

Do you still watch Disney Movies? I very rarely get in the mood for them if I’m by myself, but yes, I’d gladly sit down and watch should an opportunity come.

Do you like mangoes? No.

N

Do you have a nickname? 99% of people call me Robyn while my family calls me Byn, but there are a select few friends who’ve stayed long enough with me to catch other names I’ve gotten over the years, which have since become inside jokes/nicknames. There’s Reben and Rolayn, and literally just yesterday ‘Roby’ happened when I ordered food for lunch so that will probably catch on as well.

What’s your favorite number? 4.

Do you prefer night over day? Absolutely.

O

Are you an only child? No, I’m two siblings away from that status.

Do you wish this was over? I haven’t felt that way, no.

What is the closet orange object near you? An orange tumbler my Kuya gave me as a Christmas gift in 2019. There is also orange tape wrapped around the charger adaptor of my company laptop.

P

What one fear are you most paranoid about? Waking up in the middle of surgery and being unable to speak nor move.

Do you play any instruments? Nope.

Do you think you are pretty? Some days.

Q

Are you quick to judge people? No, unless they are already blatantly showing their character like being rude towards service staff, tossing their trash to the ground, or cutting in queues. Whenever those things happen I give myself the space and freedom to guiltlessly judge.

What do you keep quiet about? How dysfunctional my family really is, and the things I really want to say about Gabie.

Do you have any quirks? Food-wise, I like peeling off the breading from fried chicken and placing them on the side of my plate so I can eat them last, because they’re my favorite part.

R

What’s a good reason to cry? Frustration. Crying can be really helpful in lessening stress.

Do you think you're always right? No.

Do you watch reality TV? Not religiously, but I love watching snippets of reality shows on Facebook because they’re all so embarrassing and it’s hilarious to watch hahahahah. Literally last night I was watching clips of Big Ed on 90 Day Fiance.

S

Are you a social person? More so now than I was years ago.

What states have you lived in? I lived in Manila briefly but it didn’t take long till we transferred to another city for a more peaceful life in the suburbs.

What is your favorite season? I wanna say winter because of what I’ve seen from it in movies and shows, but I’ve never actually experienced it before.

T

When did you last sleep in a tent? Sometime in March or April last year.

Do you like tomatoes? Mostly in diced form. Tomato sauce is fine but I don’t really like it in my pasta. Bloody Mary also tastes rather awful.

What time did you wake up? 8:30 AM.

U

Do you have an umbrella in your car? I think so, yeah. I finally placed one in there lmao.

Do listen to Usher? Eh, not really. 2000s R&B isn’t my thing, save for Beyoncé.

Describe the underwear your wearing? It’s light blue.

V

What’s the worst veggie? I never learned to like pechay. I’d still eat it, but only because I like cleaning up my entire plate.

Do you like movies with violence? Some. Like I hate action movies but I enjoyed A Clockwork Orange and Scream lol.

Where do you want to go on vacation? I recently bookmarked an Airbnb in Zambales and the accommodation is basically this super cute line of tipi-styled huts by the beach. I'd love to have a solo trip push through once this Covid mess subsides.

W

Ever been on a wave runner? No.

Where do you work? I work in a PR company.

Do you wish on stars? Just sometimes.

X

Have you ever had an x-ray? Only for mandatory medical exams.

Do you own a xylophone? I think I had a toy one as a kid, but it’s not with me anymore.

Have you watched the x-games? No, not interested.

Y

What did you do yesterday? I stayed at home; ordered food for Angela as a surprise; debated if I should buy a pair of Air Maxes – and ultimately decided I’ve already spent too much this month to deserve a new pair of shows lol; and just settled to buy a new night lamp for my bedroom. I also watched the newest episode of 2 Days 1 Night and ate more of Leigh’s ice cream while doing work.

Do you like the color yellow? Only in mustard yellow. I also like the song Yellow, heh.

What year were you born?: 1998.

Z

Do you believe in the zodiac? No.

Has your bank account been at zero? No. I remember when I was first opening my own account at the bank and the clerk told me to make sure I don’t go below P2,000, and my intensely by-the-book ass has been following the rule ever since, even though my dad has told me it’s absolutely fine to go below it so long as I have P2,000 back in the account after a month hahaha.

Ever been to the zoo? A few.

[alloftheimaginess]

Freedom (2)

Wordcount: 2519

Warnings: talks of suicide and depression.

DONT NOT READ IF YOU ARE ESSILY TRIGGERED

A/n: this was very hard for me to write and I’ve been struggling with it because I had to pull from real life events and so it was hard but I’m proud of how it turned out

Part 1

"You'll never take me alive" (Y/n) says as her and Peter play pirates and police in his room.

"I will take you dead then" peter says trying to sound serious which makes Tony and Steve struggle to keep quiet as they record from the doorway.

"Argh. You'll never take me dead" (Y/n) says jumping around the cushions that are on the floor.

"(Y/n/n) stop" Peter whines.

"You have to surrender" he says on the verge of tears and she stops.

"I decided that I'm ready to go to jail" she says. "Really?" Peter asks and she nods.

"Yes?" She asks and he pulls out the handcuffs. "Just do it already" she fake cries bringing a smile to her brothers face and she turns to see her dads in the doorway and she sends them a huge smile before putting her attention back on peter.

.......................................................................

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to (y/n), happy birthday to you" The Avengers sing to the 6 year old girl whose grinning from ear to ear, Peter following closely behind Steve as he carries the cake into the living room. Steve sets the cake down and sits down beside her picking her up slightly so she can blow the candles out. Tony recording everything.

"Did you make a wish princess?" Nat asks smiling down at the girl.

"Yes, but auntie Nat if I tell you it's not going to come true" she says giggling.

"You are the best at keeping secrets" she says laying a hand on the small girls cheek. "Cake time?" Tony asks from behind the camera and (y/n) nods frantically.

"Cake time!" she says agreeing with him as she pulls Peter up onto her cushion so they can share the cake.

..........................................................................

"Merry Christmas princess" Tony says running into (Y/n)'s room waking her up by tickling her and she laughs.

"Merry Christmas daddy" she says her voice quiet and hoarse and Tony picks her up.

"Merry Christmas papa" she says smiling at Steve who's behind the camera before she lays her head on Tony's shoulder.

"Merry Christmas baby" he says smiling at her. "Is Peter woke yet?" She asks perking up.

"We are going to his room next" Steve tells her and she asks to be put down and Tony sets her down and she runs out the room wanting to be the one to wake Peter up.

"Merry Christmas Petie" she says jumping on the bed and Peter starts to whine.

"I'm sorry Petie but you have to get up. Let's go open gifts" she says and Peter sits up and she helps him out the bed pulling him into the living room.

..........................................................................

"We have (y/n) and Peter here" Steve says recording them on their first day of school. "What grade are you going to (Y/n)?" Steve asks and (Y/n) smiles at the camera.

"I'm going to third" she says doing a little dance causing Steve to laugh.

"What grade are you going to Peter?" He asks. "First" Peter says holding up one finger and (y/n) starts dancing towards the camera singing one of her millions of made up songs.

"Papa, I can see myself" she says as she gets up on the camera.

"Are you guys excited for school?" Tony asks and Peter and (Y/n) both start screaming, running around the front yard like headless chickens.

"I'm super excited, next week, we uh next week we get to. Next week we are going to have around the world" (y/n) finally gets out.

"You sound super excited for it" Steve says.

"I am, it's the first year petie can walk with me so we can do it together" she says staring directly in the camera wide eyed, causing tony and Steve to crack up.

...........................................................................

"This is my papa Steve and my daddy Tony, they just got back from a super top secret mission doing super top secret superhero stuff" (Y/n) says recording them as they walk into the house.

"Hi" steve says grabbing the camera from her, turning it on her.

"And this is the beautiful (Y/n), looking as beautiful as ever" he says and she turns away hiding her face. "Look at her blushing" he says and she covers the camera the best she can with her small hand.

"I love you" she says laughing and it goes black.

Peter watches the home videos over and over just to see if she's had a moment where her emotions faltered but so far they haven't and that makes him feel even worse because when she showed something was wrong with her, he brushed her off.

"Hey pete, you should get some sleep" Tony says causing him to jump and he turns around.

"I can't make sense of it" Peter says and Tony moves the movies off of the sofa to clear a seat next to Peter.

"I think she left us what we needed to understand in her letter" Tony says softly trying to get through to his son like he has been for 6 months.

"I can't read it until I know that she was happy, that this wasn't something to add up over her whole lifetime" he says looking at the screen just in time for something to catch his eye and he grabs the remote rewinding.

"There" he says standing up and going to the tv.

"Watch" he says pressing play and he slows it down just enough for Tony to catch what he's pointing to and it's a video of (y/n) on her 10th birthday and she was sitting there upset until she seen Steve walk out with the camera and then she perked up to her old self just like in all of the home videos.

He quickly changes it out and puts in her 11th birthday and it's the same thing except she's in the background of Peter being recorded, obviously going through something.

He switches video after video getting the same thing and he switches to the video of the day (y/n) went to college and that's when it breaks him, that's when he knows it's been there all along but everyone was wrapped up in themselves to notice that you were struggling and it kills him.

A sob escapes his lips as he sets the remote down knowing that he could have saved you but he was too wrapped up in doing the things every teenager does. He’s mad at himself because his spider senses didn’t tell him that something was up. They didn’t tell him that he lost his sister.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay” Tony says swallowing hard at those words.

“How can you say that? How can you stand here and tell me that it’s going to be okay? Why are you just pretending that nothing even happened. You and dad don’t even talk about it anymore it’s like you completely erased it from your memory and moved on. You don’t even care about her!” Peter screams, the dam of emotions he’s built up, breaking in a matter of seconds.

“Because it has to be!” Tony yells back and Steve runs down the stairs.

“We have no choice but to let it be okay or it’s going to kill us” Tony yells just as loud.

“You think I’m okay? You think I’m not struggling. I lost my first born, my baby Peter, you don’t think that it’s have any effect on me? You don’t think I have nightmares every night of finding her? You don’t think I want this pain to go away just as much as you do? Peter I am miserable but I have to raise you so I can’t constantly be down about it because if I do you are down a father. I loved your sister more than anything and every morning I struggle getting out of the bed but then I hear you make a noise and I know I have to get up every morning for you. Don’t try to tell me I don’t care. Don’t you dare say that, losing a child is one of the hardest things anyone has to go through and for you to say that when I had to watch my daughter get lowered into the ground, it hurts and I know you’re grieving still, we all are Pete but that doesn’t mean you can snap at me because I’m not grieving in the way you want me to” Tony says calming down.

“Pete” Steve pipes up, getting both of their attention.

“I was where you were right after it happened. Late nights, early mornings. I was going through her stuff, reading her journals, going through her text messages. I just wanted an answer, I wanted to know why she did it. Why she didn’t try to come to us and what happened that pushed her to it. But there isn’t one answer” he says crying, just like Peter and Tony.

“There’s a million tiny little answers and this needs to stop before you dig yourself into a hole so deep you can’t get out. Read your letter Peter and let that be enough for now, let it allow you some peace because peace is what we all need right now” he says picking up the tv remote.

“This isn’t what we need, we don’t need to be doing this because then we’ll only start to remember the negative instead of the positive” he says pointing to the tv and then he turns around, his breath catching in his throat when it’s the video from before you went to prom and you were twirling around the house in your dress and he watches it.

He watches as you grab Peter, much to his dismay and force him to ballroom dance with you, the whole room falling silent as they watch how gracefully you move.

“I’m sorry” Peter pipes up, not being able to keep quiet anymore.

“Don’t be” Tony says turning his attention away from the tv.

“You’re having a hard time and I would expect nothing less, just try to come to us. Let us know when it’s bothering you so we can help you” Tony says and Peter nods, turning his attention back to Steve and they both go over pulling him in to a hug.

A few days later

Peter sits down on his bed, the letter you left for him held firmly in his hands, waiting to be opened and he carefully opens it and pulls out the 8 paged letter, covered in writing on front and hack.

Hey Peter don’t be mad at me. I know if I was still there you would call me stupid and we’d argue until we both started laughing, forgetting what we were even arguing about in the first place. I just want you to know that this is not your fault no matter how much you think it is. When I came to you, it wasn’t to see if you cared, it wasn’t a confirmation of if I should do it or not. It was me allowing myself to vent and I’m not mad, I understand what it’s like to want to hang out with your friends and my love for you remained the same.

Petie. That’s so weird to write because I haven’t called you that since you were eight. The first time I seen you, I knew you were going to be my best friend and I was right. You are my little brother, my best friend, the first person that I truly loved besides dads of course, the first person I had to learn to love and was so glad to have in my life. Don’t stress yourself out trying to figure it out. There’s no point, it’s not just one thing, it’s everything. You, and dads were the lighthouse in my darkness called life for so long but then I started floating further away from you guys and I floated so far away I could no longer see the guiding light, I was alone, It was cold and dark and it became too much.

I don’t blame anybody but myself and I hope you understand that you did not do anything to push me over the edge. You were always there for me, allowing me to do stupid shit to you even when you didn’t want it because you wanted me to be happy. I was living but I wasn’t alive. I died a long time ago emotionally and mentally and my physical body just caught up to that. I didn’t mean to cause anyone any pain and I know I did, I know this will.

Knowing you, you aren’t reading this right away and it’s been some insane amount of months and you’re reading it super late at night but because you’re petie I expect nothing less. I know how much you’ll miss me and I don’t know what happens after this, but I just want you to know that I’ll miss you too and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for any pain that I caused and am currently causing. There’s a false bottom in my bottom drawer, I left something in there for you and I know you’ll never take it off.

Okay this letter is getting super long and I kinda want to end it so I’m going to end it on this note. You are the best little brother anyone could ever ask for, you have brought sunshine into my life since the day you entered it and I want you to use that shine to shine on the rest of the world. Tell Ned that I love him so much, almost more than I love you. Nah I’m just kidding but he’s definitely been a brother to me and I’ll always love you both. The eighth page is a letter I wrote for Ned so I need you to give that to him. I would have separated it but I ran out of envelopes so I had to stick it with yours.

You’ll always be my number one and no matter what I’ll always love you and I hope you can do the same and not be angry with me for leaving you. I love you so much Peter and I hope you enjoy the picture I drew for you on the back of this because it took hours.

Peter flips the page over to reveal a stick figure drawing of you and him, he’s in his Spider-Man mask and you’re in the biggest pair of glasses and you drew the arms to make it look like you were hugging him and he laughs, his tears hitting the paper and he quickly wipes them away drying the paper the best he can and he separates Ned letter, folding it up for him and he stares at the picture a little longer before folding up the letter and putting it in his drawer, feeling a lot better than he has for the past six months.

[transephiroth]

an important post: abuse from friends, friend abuse. please read and reblog.

TW: abuse ment, bpd ment, ed ment, suicide ment, ptsd, trauma, death ment. gaslighting ment.

i don’t know what exactly what has compelled me to make this post at nearly 1:00 am on a school night just like every other, but i think the importance of advocacy of preventing, spotting, and stopping abusive friendships is to talk about them with the same respect as any other form of abuse.

i’ll give you a small overview of my personal experience with abusive friendships: when i was 16, my father committed suicide. i was not aware he was my biological father at they time and actually found out he was not my half brother, but my biological father. my father, who’s name i will not mention. i won’t even use fake names they’re hard to keep track of. i found out my mother, an abusive drug addict, slept with her husband, my apparent grandfather’s, adult son from a previous marriage consensually. one way or another, my father was forbidden to be involved in my life, and my grandfather raised me as his own. (in case you’re going to ask about inc*st, my father and mother have no relation, she is not his mother.)

the shock of learning this and grieving his death from the few negative interactions he and his mental health had on my family when i was a baby, was intense. i had no friends at school and felt incredibly lost and vulnerable. when i was in this place i met my best friend. we bonded over a shared hatred of my ex boyfriend, who was an abuser, who was dating her ex best friend.

this should have been a red flag, but i ignored it.

i took the first friend i could find after my ex took away all my friends in an effort to isolate me after my assault. this was probably the worst part of my life, and one of my first real suicide attempts was only days before my father died. the first friend i found, the first soul i recognized i clung to.

when me and my friend, who we will call P, were inseparable. but there was a very clear and distinct difference between us. P was a star in the band at school, she had great grades, tons of friends and was quite conventionally attractive. she was involved in a lot of extracurriculars and overall had a very nice demeanor.

this should have been a red flag. as harsh as it might sound, idealizing anyone is unhealthy. if someone appears to you as perfect, it’s not paranoid of you to wonder if it’s hiding something. it’s hard to tell when someone is being genuine, especially for myself with autism. nice words and a smile can pretty much fool anyone.

i, on the other hand of P, dropped out of band and just about every other activity after my assault, and was in and out of intense therapy and psych visits throughout all of high school. i never could go a school year without a visit. to this day i have gone a whole year however :)

I was an autistic shut in who quite honestly, cried a lot, smelled bad, was clearly poor, spoke funny and came to school drunk. we were not the same.

i don’t want to go over every painstaking detail, so i’ll try to summarize as best i can the first two years of our three year relationship.

P was diagnosed with BPD about a month into our friendship. she told me i was her FP/favorite person, and showed me videos to learn about BPD. i remember watching hours and hours of information about BPD to accommodate her the best i could. what i didn’t realize however, was that she was lying. she didn’t have BPD, or at least couldn’t be diagnosed because we were 16.

red flag. i knew this was a lie because i had been in therapy for years. it took me a long time to peace it together but i accepted it and beget told her, until this moment, that i knew.

i fucking knew.

months of friendship included constant easy to see through lies, fabrications, pathological rants, and pretty much changing her “back story” every day. it was draining not to mention it, but the few times i did, she got physical. i have scars on my right forearm from her nails, which were long and broke skin. she would tell me she would pay me back for things and never show. she would make fun of things i told her in secret to our friends, my trauma. my dad.

“dark humor”

over time, she convinced me to drop every single friend i had except for her. she had gotten me literally completely vulnerable and isolated.

when covid hit, my mom, of course, kicked me out. i moved in with P and her family. my time there over quarantine was very monotonous, but i’ll never forget that for basically 8-9 months, she never let me out of her sight. i felt like i had to just do whatever she wanted because her mother let me live there for free.

p knew i wanted to move away from my mother and the chaos of my home life for years.

right before quarantine, P got her first boyfriend. she had never had a boyfriend and had been to scared to get one. i was really happy for her, i encouraged her to ask him out while she was at a weekend school event.

P then began to manipulate not only me, but him. to this day i don’t know what’s become of either of them, but i really couldn’t care less anymore. when trauma heals, you get a sense of apathy.

P would frequently belittle me, mock me, kick, trip and slap me, force me to pay for things for her and her boyfriend on the spot, and steal from my purse.

eventually living with p, third wheeling with her less than charming boyfriend, who i honestly just didn’t mind. we weren’t friends, but i was respectful to him and treated him the same way i would treat a friend from school or something.

p has a family i won’t bring up because it involves minors, but her mother has a psychotic disorder and refuses to be medicated, so the house is full of ripped door hinges, holes in walls, smashed items and more. it’s really unsafe there, and during my time there i found i really began to internalize as a person. i developed an eating disorder and my ptsd and autism felt much more out of control.

i had been diagnosed with autism for nearly two years at that point, and living in that household made me realize just how damaging meltdown after meltdown without anyone understanding can damage your psyche long term.

i wanted to leave. i had saved my money from my jobs and got an apartment. p insisted on coming, saying she didn’t want to live with her mom anymore. i didn’t want her to come, but i agreed. she got a co-sign. i knew it was a bad idea because i heard what they said about best friends living together. i just can’t believe it really happened.

we talked about growing old together, raising our kids together. i was going to name my first daughter after her. we were going to be neighbors. her husband and my wife would be best friends just like us, but that’s not what happened.

we lived together from August 2020-November 2020

to give a quick summary of the inevitable end of this relationship, P and I had two kittens together. i asked her if she could put them away for inspection so they didn’t run out the door while i drove our third roommate, a whole other mountain of a story, to work.

she didn’t do it, instead slacked off to go to her boyfriends house. so i came back and had to put the cats away at record speed and our other roommate was late to work.

even if this was somewhat small, it was the breaking point for me. i grabbed my phone and texted her, DEMANDING she explain why she couldn’t do this one thing for me. i have never been that angry in my life. we had a phone call where i just lost it and unleashed all my anger and all my hurt about everything she had done. i was sobbing and barely making sense but i couldn’t just keep letting my life carry on this way.

i wish i remembered how the phone call ended, but all i remember was telling her “if the cats run and we can’t find them, then we are done being roommates.”

the next morning i woke up and she had blocked me on everything. i drove to the apartment and saw that overnight, according to block times at like, 3am, she had taken all our shared furniture, all my birthday gifts from not two weeks prior, all the gifts i bought her, most of my clothes, one of the apartment keys, my high school diploma, the paperwork for the cats, and not just our two shared kittens, but my third roommates cat as well.

cue search party with my partner and his friends and my other roommate for P and the cats. i found her at her house with her mom and boyfriend. i walked out and she was on the phone with my grandfather, telling him i was threatening suicide. i ask her where the cats are, she says they are at a friends house.

if we flashback in the story, we literally only had each other, so i knew it was a lie.

i managed to argue through to negotiate at least my other roommates cat, but only after P’s mom blocked us in the driveway and called the police saying we threatened her daughter

(reminder people in this group were black and asian ☺️ so she just calls the cops fall 2020)

luckily the cops saw the proof she blocked me so i couldn’t have threatened her, and let us leave.

that’s the end of the friendship. i could bore anyone who has read this far further by explaining the nightmare realm that is the legal troubles with the apartment, but the internet doesn’t need to know everything does it?

as the winter has gone on i’ve had months to basically remake myself as a person. i had to firstly face the damage P had done.

but before i get into that, anyone who is still reading first, ily, but also, if you’ve had ANY relationship that sounds similar to this, THAT IS ABUSE.

Plain and simple. It is abusive. Physically, emotionally, mentally, verbally. nobody deserves that. not P. not you. not me.

friendships can be all someone has. not everyone is born into good families with loving siblings and great parents and tons of cousins who live .3 milliseconds away. families are divided. families, like mine, are divorced. families are broken and families sometimes aren’t even families. humans need relationships, and an idealistic person who we think maybe could save us and fix the world, won’t.

you can be taken advantage of by the person you trust the most just as easily as a stranger.

it’s not wrong to face the abuse they put you through, know it was wrong, and feel valid that it is was wrong.

what i went through with P was horrible. the detachment of my only friend hurt. but i bounced back. i’m still undoing some of the damage, but i have great friends and a wonderful partner. i have two rescue cats who mean the world to me.

life gets better after abuse, but the bad days and the pain aren’t invalid because of this. i have trauma from what P put me through. abandonment like that is traumatic. but it’s not the end. feel what you need to feel to feel better.

if anyone read this far and wants to vent their own experiences, or share more advice on preventing these relationships feel free. it’s almost 1:30 now, i should go to bed.

it feels good to get that off my chest.

[starwalker42]

And The World Keeps Spinning [1/2]

This is for the X-Files Fluff Exchange by @xfilesfanficexchange, which was a huge leap out of my comfort zone but I’m so glad I signed up to! My prompt was “something fluffy around Mulder and Scully spending Valentines together either as a new couple or maybe not a couple yet” from @kristinsauter, and I really hope I did it justice! Part 2 to follow x (Link to A03)

This is all my fault. Frohike would probably disagree, but he wouldn’t have been able to talk me into this if I hasn’t had those beers, so I only have myself to blame, really.

It was barely a week after New Year’s, and it shouldn’t have surprised me that with only one drink down I was already talking about that night; every morning since, I’d woken with the memory of Scully’s lips on mine, and despite my best intentions I’d found myself dreaming about it during the day, too.

Originally the guys had been ecstatic, but when it became apparent that was as far as we’d gone- and that we hadn’t discussed it since- praise quickly turned to exasperation. Frohike gave the most world-weary sigh I’ve ever heard, Langly started off on one of his lectures- dude, are you serious, what the hell- and even Byers looked unimpressed.

“You can’t kiss a lady when the world’s about to end and not take her out for dinner,” Frohike commented around his beer.

I can’t remember what exactly my excuse was- probably something about it not being the right time, about how she was my partner, not just some random hookup, and that it wasn’t as easy as ‘taking her out for dinner’- but I don’t think they listened anyway.

“You can’t leave her hanging, dude.”

“I know you’re nervous, Mulder, but you should ask her.”

“Just take her to Casey’s-”

I shot down Frohike’s idea almost before it was out of his mouth. “My first date with Scully is not going to be Casey’s.”

“Unless you get your head out of your ass I don’t think it’ll happen at all.” Langly drawled, and that did it.

“I’ll do it! I’m going to ask her out for Valentine’s.”

“Why the wait?”

In my mind, it was to leave enough time for this conversation to be forgotten and for the guys to never bring up the subject again. But of course, that didn’t happen, and last week they were the ones reminding me about what I’d said. I’d promised I’d ask her when we were out of town on this new case with the VCU.

I haven’t.

I’d meant to, several times, but the moment was never right: the words just hadn’t come out, or we’d been discussing the case, or been standing over a skinned corpse… you get the idea. So now we’re in the office, on the 13th February, having worked non-stop for seven days, and I’m trying to delay my inevitable exit my packing my bag as slowly as humanly possible while Scully finishes filling in her report. She always takes longer; she has to be precise and make sure everything’s filled in right, can’t just scribble stuff down like I can.

Normally I love that about her- today I just want her to hurry up so she can leave the office and I can stay down here in my self-created loneliness for the rest of my miserable life. The guys are going to have a field day when they find out about how badly this has gone.

“Penny for them.”

I glance up and meet Scully’s smiling eyes. She raises her eyebrow expectantly and I find myself unable to come up with a suitable lie. The words come out on top of each other.

“I was just wondering if you want to come over tomorrow night. For dinner.”

I have to look away, can’t stand to see the unavoidable pity and rejection in her face.

“Sure, sounds great.”

I almost feel the floor fall from under me. My cheeks are on fire as I feel my face break out into a smile I can’t stop.

“Uh, okay, cool.” My bag almost falls from my hand as I fumble with it. “See you at seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Is that my heart pounding?

                                                           xXx

Mulder grabs his coat, stops briefly in the doorway to run his hand across the back of his neck, and says to the floor, “See you tomorrow.”

I stop trying to decode his behaviour. It’s been a long week. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone.

Tomorrow is Monday, which would normally mean we’d be in each other’s company for a good ten hours or so in the office, but after this past week Skinner’s practically begged us to take a few days off so I’ve threatened Mulder that on pain of death he must not step foot in this building until Wednesday at the earliest. I know it might be just as hard to keep me away.

I’m looking forward to a few days off, of course I am- I haven’t had a bath in lord knows how long- but the longer I’m away from the office, the less I can relax. Okay, that’s not true- the longer I’m away from Mulder would probably be a better way of putting it. As pathetic as it sounds, if I’m away from him for much longer than a day it just feels wrong. I feel wrong. I’m sure some would call it dependency, and while I’m not sure about that I know that when I’m away from him, even if I know exactly where he is and what he’s doing, even if he’s only a phone call away, I’m lonely. I don’t know when but somewhere along the line it became clear that I’m happiest when I’m by his side; that I’m safer, more comfortable, and somehow more whole when I’m with him. I feel like myself.

Our classic method of hiding what I’m beginning to suspect is a mutual need for contact is anything can hide behind the safe veneer of a night in between friends, more often than not in the form of a takeaway and a terrible movie on Mulder’s couch. It’s happened enough times that at this point I’m expecting it at times like this, so I’m a little shocked that Mulder thinks it necessary to have to make pre-arranged plans. Surely he knows he could call me at 6 tomorrow night and I’d be over in half an hour?

I again remind myself to stop trying to work out my partner, and try to be content with the knowledge that I understand him a hell of a lot better than anyone else. The thought makes me smile as I grab my keys and leave the office.

It isn’t until I’m driving back home and see, of all things, the Victoria’s Secret window display, that I realise what day it is tomorrow. It’s not just Monday. It’s Valentine’s Day.

It’s fucking Valentine’s Day.

My first thought is to dismiss it as a coincidence: Mulder forgets even my birthday, and it’s been a long hard week, and if I forgot then it’s likely he did too… but then I remember the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the way his cheeks flushed, the relieved smile he gave when I said yes.

He knows what day tomorrow is.

And I’m pretty sure he’s asked me on a date.

And I’ve said yes.

Holy shit.

                                                            xXx

It’s not until the doors to the elevator close behind me that I allow myself to breathe.

Holy shit.

I just asked Scully out. On a date. A Valentine’s date. And she didn’t roll her eyes, or oh brother me, or deck me one in the face. She said yes.

Holy shit!

I don’t know how to do this. How long has it been since I was on a date? Should I book a restaurant somewhere? Is it acceptable to get takeout? What the hell am I supposed to wear? My the time I’m at the garage I’ve managed to talk myself into a spiral of panic, and I’m very close to calling Scully and cancelling before I remember that ultimately, that’s who I’m doing this for. Scully.

I don’t have to dress up or create some fake-perfect evening for her, because that’s not our thing. And tomorrow is about us.

On my way back, I stop at the store and buy a bottle of wine- one of the expensive ones that Scully never admits she has at her place- and decide to risk forgoing takeout and buying ingredients in the hopes that I can still remember how to cook carbonara. I don’t know what I’d even begin to write in a card, so I don’t even glance at them, but at the flower display I have to stop. I’ve only ever bought Scully flowers when she was in hospital, but if there’s any time to break a tradition it’s now. Red roses are too forward, and too traditional, and everything else seems to be the same shade of pink that I know Scully will hate. I’m about to give up when I see the smaller bouquets at the front- well, one in particular. It’s a beautiful mix of what look like white roses and a whole mix of others that I can’t identify apart from their colour- blue. They’re almost exactly the same shade as Scully’s eyes, so close that it almost takes my breath away.

They’re the ones.

The cashier doesn’t seem surprised by my purchases- I assume she’s used to harried customers buying last minute Valentine’s gifts- and a few minutes later I’m back in my car and driving home. I feel my face breaking out into a ridiculous grin, and don’t try to contain it.

                                                           xXx

I’ve been on edge all day. I’ve tried going for a run, having a bath, reading some of my book, but I can’t relax. It’s now 4pm and I’m judging that to be a suitable time to start getting ready, especially because if I leave it any longer I think I might scream. Also I’m likely to need another three hours just to work out what the hell I’m going to wear, and how to come across as completely relaxed about this entire situation. How long has it been since I went on a proper date? How long since I’ve been on one and actually enjoyed it?

Ed Jerse comes to mind, but deep down I think I know that I didn’t really enjoy it, that what I enjoyed was the concept. Letting go and getting away from myself in the way that no one would expect from straight-laced Agent Scully. But even at the time, I wasn’t enjoying it. I remember closing my eyes and trying to imagine it was Mulder inside me, having to bite my tongue so I didn’t cry out his name. It occurs to me that if things go to plan tonight, I might actually end up in the place I’d wished for those years ago. Mulder and I might have sex tonight. Okay, now I really need to go and have a shower. A cold one.

I can’t get the picture out of my mind, though. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind for a while now. And our kiss on New Year’s didn’t exactly help things in that regard. I’m pretty sure it’s no longer a question of if but when we cross that final line, and if it hadn’t been for Mulder’s injuries, I think we would’ve crossed it that very same night.

But maybe it’s better this way; at least now I can prepare somewhat. I straighten my hair for what must be the third time today, and try to work out how best to do my makeup without looking like I’ve been thinking about it too hard, which ultimately means that I redo it several times before I’m happy. I second guess myself on what to wear about a dozen times as well, going between completely casual (jeans and a t-shirt) to the frankly overdressed (an evening gown I’ve had for years and never worn), and everything in-between.

In the end I opt for a V-neck sweater that Melissa bought for me all those years ago, one that I’ve only worn a handful of times and only never out of the house. It’s gorgeous material, cosy and soft, but it was clearly either designed for someone with bigger breasts or with a bigger load of self confidence because on my chest it’s somewhat loose, and definitely not the kind of thing I’d normally wear. If it wasn’t that Melissa had bought it for me I think I would’ve got rid of it by now, but I’m glad I didn’t. I can’t wait to see Mulder’s face.

                                                          xXx

There’s a knock on the door ten minutes before seven. I’m not even surprised: it’s Scully, of course she’s early. In a way I’m glad, because dinner is almost ready and part of me had been dreading the point where minutes after minutes went by without her showing up until it became clear that she was never going to.

Now as I hear her knock on the door I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief that all of this- making dinner, buying wine, cleaning the apartment, putting on one of my best shirts- wasn’t for nothing. An instant later panic hits again. Oh god. Scully’s here, which means this is actually happening. Oh god.

I realise I’ve been frozen in the kitchen when I hear another knock, slightly louder this time, and remember that even though Scully has a key and is more than willing to use it under normal circumstances, she’s likely to not be so keen right now. Okay. Okay, I can do this.

My hand trembles as I slide the bolt across and pull the door open. I’m apologising almost immediately, too anxious to let the words take their time.

“Hey, sorry, I heard you I just had to make sure the food wasn’t-” and then I actually look at her, and- “Wow.”

It’s not exactly a new thought, not particularly different to what usually goes through my mind when I look at her, but her appearance tonight is… wow. I can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, and can only conclude it’s some magical combination of a slightly darker lipstick than usual, the smile she’s giving me, and the fact that I can see so many more inches of her beautiful skin than usual thanks to the cut of the sweater she’s wearing. How the hell does the sight of her clavicle do these things to me?

Noticing the way Scully’s eyes glance up and down my body while I’m still stood in the doorway, I step back to allow her in and close the door behind her. My hands? Still shaking with the best of them.

“Can I take your coat?”

“Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

My hands don’t feel like they belong to me as I slide the jacket off of her, not missing the way she gasps when my fingers accidently brush the exposed skin of her collarbone. I hang it up and briefly turn my attention back to the stove, where the spaghetti is at risk of overflowing, and try to breathe. Scully is too quiet.

“I’ve got wine if you want?” I ask over my shoulder, but she’s gone. “Scully?”

“In here.” Her voice comes from somewhere else in the apartment, out of sight.

I turn down the stove and head through to the living room. She’s stood at my desk, and I immediately know what she’s found. I’d hoped I could at least get her to have a drink before she saw I’d bought her flowers.

“These are for me.” It’s not a question.

“Oh, actually they were for my other date, but she didn’t show,” I joke, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Were they a mistake? And did I just call Scully my date-?

There’s an indecipherable expression on her face when she turns to face me. “No man’s ever bought me flowers before.”

Somehow I find that hard to believe doesn’t seem like the correct response, especially because I know my partner, and I know this isn’t how she messes with me. She’s being honest, and somehow without thinking I find myself doing the same.

“They reminded me of you.” She raises an eyebrow. “They’re the same blue as your eyes.”

I catch the way her cheeks flush before she glances away, and hear the quiet thank you she gives to the floor before she speaks up.

“You don’t drink wine, Mulder.”

I hear the pan bubbling from the kitchen again. “Yeah, well, you’d better not go teetotal on me now, Scully, because otherwise I’m going to have to start.”

She raises her eyes and gives a smirk. “I’ll get a glass.”

                                                          xXx

I don’t think I’ve ever been as surprised by Mulder as I have been tonight. He’s bought my favourite wine, he’s got me flowers- beautiful ones at that- he’s made dinner for us even though I was 90% sure he’d never cooked in his life, and now it appears he’s had time to stop off at Blockbuster to empty the romcom aisle.

“What’re we feeling?” He spreads the VHS cases across the coffee table and looks over to me expectantly. We’re almost touching on the couch.

My head is a little fuzzy with wine and the giddiness that comes with being too close to Mulder for too long, and rather than answering immediately I find myself just looking into his eyes for a long minute. I can feel it, the familiar magnetism between us, and for once I realise that nothing should be holding us back from giving in to it. I’m tipsy, and Mulder’s been drinking beer during dinner, so I know he’s not exactly sober either. We’re here, in private, together. It would be so easy to give in. So why don’t I? With liquid courage, I lean forwards and send a thanks to whoever created Valentine’s Day and gave me an excuse to press my lips against his.

Neither of us move, I don’t think we dare to, and the outcome isn’t much different to that first kiss on New Year’s Eve- a somewhat gentle, trepidatious kiss that feels like it lasts forever and still ends far too soon.

“You choose.” I manage as we disengage, noticing how much huskier my voice has become.

Mulder doesn’t even look, just grabs a tape at random and manages to get it into the player before returning to sit next to me. I press myself against his side and smile when I feel his arm come to wrap around my shoulders, like it belongs there. The first few beats of ‘Be My Baby’ play from the TV, and I hum in approval of Mulder’s choice.

“You know, I’ve never watched this film.” His voice is low and soft in my ear.

“What? It’s a classic American movie,” I whisper back.

“That’s what every woman says. It’s a chick flick.”

“Patrick Swayze’s not your type?”

He presses a quick kiss to my cheek as we settle back against the couch. “You know exactly what my type is.”

You know what Mulder? I think I might be beginning to work it out.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

thank you! i think you're genuinely the only person that has ever said they actually like the fact that my bathrobe is obnoxiously pink. and you're absolutely right, one of the things i like most about it is that it hurts people's eyes. i love it actually. if you ever celebrate halloween you should absolutely add your bathrobe to your costume. an amazing idea. since it has a mouse face on the hood it could be two costumes rolled into one - both a vampire and a mouse (if in the middle of the evening you get bored of one), which i think would be awesome. and you probably wouldn't get cold (is it cold in nz during halloween? because here it almost always is). we don't celebrate halloween in lithuania either though. which i'm a bit bummed about, because halloween sounds super fun. mostly because of the dressing up! but i did celebrate it once, when i was 11 or 12 maybe? me and a couple of friends decided it would be fun even if it's not really celebrated here. so we dressed up, even went trick ir treating (half the houses had no idea what was happening and also i pretty much froze to death because i was dressed as a dead bride and refused to put a coat on because then you couldn't see my dress) and also watched horror movies. 12 (or 11) year old me thought it was amazing.

oh yeah! i've broken a knife on 2 separate occasions i think. once i tried to get something out of between the blender's blades, used a knife and then accidentally turned the blender on (i'm so fucking glad it was a knife and not my fingers). so the tip of the knife broke off (the blender was ok tho). and the second time i have no idea how it happened. i was cutting up broccoli and the knife just fell apart??? i was so confused, because one second i'm holding a knife and the next it's just two pieces of a handle and the metal part, all separate. had fun explaining that to my dad. you sound pretty unlucky too! i mean, a cut every time you use a knife, but you don't even notice it at the time? i think it's just that knives are out to get us (it's my newest conspiracy theory). i actually get double vision too sometimes! mostly when i'm tired, but i just figured that it was because i have really bad eyesight

they definitely SHOULD teach about gender and sexuality in school. it's a really big problem that in a lot of places it's either not compulsory or not even in the curriculum. honestly, everything i know about sex ed or lgbtq+ i had to learn myself on the internet, because we only had one class when we were like 13 years old with a guest speaker and it was mostly biology and then a little bit about menstruation and pads for girls (i have no idea what they told boys because we were also separated). so sex ed definitely sucks a lot in my country and i bet it's the same in a lot of others, which makes me really mad

exactly!! it's so hard to tell whether i'm feeling romantic or platonic love sometimes! it's confusing. also i remember one time me and a couple of friends had a sleepover and the friend's, who was hosting, parents weren't home so we watched romance movies (scandalous i know). again we were maybe 12. and they kept going "oh he's so hot" and intensely watching the sex scenes. while i was looking away from the tv whenever sexy times were going on and commenting on how much i loved the house design and the garden. gee i wonder what that means. (still can't believe it took me this long to figure out i was ace)

the breakfast went very well though! it's so interesting how different traditions are everywhere. i hope your lunch and the rest of christmas day went well too! (also i forgot to ask last time, but what is boxing day? google says it's mostly a shopping holiday, is it that? we just call it the second day of christmas and it's pretty much the same as christmas day but there's no presents!) but yeah i hope you had fun with your extended family on boxing day!

having acid reflux sounds like it sucks. i love breakfast, it's my favourite meal of the day (when i don't have to rush that is) and i skip lunch a lot because i usually have no time for it (my schedule kinda sucks), so i usually try to have a bigger breakfast. but hey, peanut butter is good! so at least you can have something that tastes good for breakfast!

aaand i feel like this ask got away from me. sorry it's so long!

it’s because i have t a s t e. it may not be GOOD taste but it sure is...taste...and i am proud of it. and yes, i love the idea of adding my dressing gown to my costume specifically because it means i’m basically in my PJ’s. minimal effort. comfort to the max. living the dream. halfway through the night i’m tired of being the vampire no one invites in so i drop to my knees and start the mouse act. mice are good at getting in houses and getting to chocolate and such. the dream. also i absolutely would get bored of one costume within the space of a few hours knowing me, so that’s a plus. uhhhh halloween is october which is. mid-late spring so it really depends on the day. it might be a little cold, might be shorts weather. I rarely leave my house at night so I’m not an expert on nighttime temperatures sdflsdfjsd. 

I used to wish we did Halloween here but that was mostly because I wanted lollies. Although I also liked playing dress up as a young kid so maybe very young me would’ve vibed with the costume aspect. I know there’s a photo of me when I was like, 5 and my best friend of the time dressed up as witches at some point, maybe we had our own little halloween. I also possibly had a halloween themed birthday party once as a kid? I remember the little gift bags having spooky things in them and also possibly a bat cake but my memory is too bad to remember for sure. aha that’s the problem here too, no one locally would ever think to buy lollies to give out so it’d just be like um. you can have an apple I guess? at least you had fun though! i respect the commitment to the costume despite the cold. 

that is such a stressful story to read, i fear for your life. although i understand the knife breaking in that first scenario. that would be terrifying though. what if the blender launched it,,, nOPE. i’m very glad it wasn’t your fingers, that’s some horror movie shit. the second time is just,, it be like that sometimes. it was probably just waiting to happen. my parents have a cheese grater with a loose handle and it. falls off. every time. i dry it. with the dishes. and every time i fear for my life as the grating bit drops off towards my feet as i’m left holding the handle. i should expect it by now but i never do. I get scared every time it happens. knives are definitely out to get us, i fully support this conspiracy theory. oh yeah, tiredness doesn’t help with double vision. i kind of need bifocal glasses by now but I also don’t want bifocal glasses so i just suffer but I suspect having them would reduce the double vision. maybe. maybe not.

yup! i remember someone handing out tampons and pads at primary school, i assume after giving a talk about periods, idk. i do also remember a teacher pulling the girls aside and being like yo, this is what a period is, here’s a horror story about my daughter and a tampon, enjoy the trauma, go back to class. good times. we did actually get really comprehensive sex ed concerning most things at my high school but that is faaaarrr from the norm around here, clearly. although teenage boys are good at filling in gaps, in my experience. they’re like little sex encyclopedias that offer up information without you asking. i didn’t ACTUALLY want to know that but i do now, i guess, thanks michael. 

dude. the ‘oh he’s so hot’ comments are so confusing. ‘hot’ is like a category of attractiveness that I’ve never understood. ‘isn’t he hot?’ what does that MEAN rebecca. i think i asked once if it meant like, attractive or good looking. and the person i asked was like, you know, hot. you just look at them and, you know- no i don’t know. what is this. i don’t think i’ve ever watched a sex scene with people my age though, generally i just zone out for them sdkfhskdfh. i feel like there’s definitely all these indicators when you look back like oh yeah, should’ve realised i was ace then, but it’s just. such a hard sexuality to figure out. not that other sexualities aren’t but you’ve got to figure out an absence of something when you don’t even know what the something feels like- it’s a challenge.

I’m glad it did! It is interesting, for sure. I’ve always been interested in how winter Christmas’s work. As a young kid I didn’t understand hemispheres...obviously...i was like 5...and i’d go out on Christmas morning to see if there was snow. and sometimes it’d be a bit chilly in the morning and I’d be like damn. we almost had some this year. it’s a shame our climate tends to be too hot for snow on christmas :// like no you tiny dumbass it’s summer you little idiot there will be no snow no matter what. everything ended up going super well here :). boxing day is basically just a shopping holiday, i don’t know if it has any significance in any other way, i’m sure it did at one point, but i know there’s always boxing day sales everywhere. I think it’s also a public holiday (?) to give people another day off work and that, but I could be wrong there. I know I also used to regularly go to the races (horse races) nearby that were always held on boxing day, it was like a 150 year old tradition or something until people in attendance started dropping and I think they finally shut it down a couple years back. I didn’t care all that much about the horses but they also had food and carnival-type rides and such for the kids which is why I loved it. also we tended to meet extended family there for a picnic lunch.

acid reflux is like the least of my problems sdfkjshdkf. it’s annoying but it’s pretty managed with medication, I have to watch certain foods and drinks but I’m used to it by now. I think it’s also what causes me to not be able to eat large amounts normally so I survive a lot on snacks and a reasonable sized dinner. works for me. but peanut butter is good! i’m glad i can have that! I used to also have vegemite but that’s a bit more of a push, it’s easier to stick with peanut butter.

also it’s fine!! my responses are always very long too sdfjhskdf.

[sxfterhearts]

About Me!

thank you for the tag @prettywordsyouleft 💞 hope you’ll have a great week ahead chelle~ 

now for the questions!

1. It’s your birthday! What did you ask for and did you receive it?

so it was my birthday about a month ago and my friend gifted me a really pretty journal! i didn’t ask for it but it was definitely something that i wanted and i could picture myself sitting in a pretty cafe, sipping my coffee and doing some journaling in some faraway land

2. What was the last song or album you listened to?

stay gold by bts was the last song that played on my spotify!! (i have been playing it on repeat... the chorus is so satisfying) the last album is lay’s album lit (莲) :))

3. What is your go to snack when you’re hungry or bored?

whenever it’s that time of the month, chocolate (esp dark choc). i often get hungry at night so i’ll have yoghurt + granola!!

4. What is your morning routine?

these days? there is no routine LOL i’ve been on uni holidays so i just wake up.. whenever.... as in close to 12pm ahem but i’ll always brush my teeth before having breakfast (if i wake up early enough for breakfast, that is hehe)

on normal days when i have to go to uni i’ll be up around 8, wash up, pack my stuff and eat breakfast with my fam. we’ll always have the morning news on the tv as well

5. What mythical/cryptid creature would you be?

it’d be great if i could fly... so unicorn or dragon or phoenix? tbh tho i wanna be a witch if i could and do magic cos harry potter :”)

6. How do you interact with someone that you don’t like?

i’ll avoid them if it’s possible and just pretend they don’t exist.. if i really don’t have a choice, i’ll keep communications as limited as possible, perhaps just by text/online

7. How do you define a toxic person?

when the other person repeatedly fails to take into account your own feelings and wishes, always putting their own needs first. also not respecting the other person/their boundaries.

8. Have you ever been to a concert or fanmeet type of event? If not, would you want to?

i’ve been to an ed sheeran concert!! my seats were really far away tho so i couldn’t see him properly T^T

i haven’t been to any kpop concerts or fanmeets... i really wanna go to an exo concert (cos they were my youth) and ofc got7 as well (flashback to their part switches and that one fanmeet where jinyoung + yugyeom sang 1:31am omg)!! i also really really like day6′s music and i think their concert will be fantastic

9. Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?

yup! i find astrology posts interesting and mostly read them for fun but sometimes they can describe my personality/actions/thoughts pretty accurately (the skeptic in me tells me it’s probs bc they always write general statements that apply to everyone haha)

i would also read up my zodiac’s fortune for the year during CNY, but it’s mostly inaccurate hahah

10. If you had only one sense (hearing, touch, sight, etc.), which would you want?

sight, and if i could choose a second one definitely hearing. i really enjoy music and sounds but i think not being able to see would be... devastating for me.......

11. Who is your favorite celebrity or idol?

at the moment 100% park jinyoung. this man is so fine. (him dancing to coming home in his fanmeet??? hello???? pls give me my heart back thank you)

12. If you could talk to your favorite celebrity(s) for a limited time, what would you tell them?

for got7, i want to tell them that even though i haven’t known them for long, discovering them and being their fan has made me a happier, better and more confident person. their music, their personalities and their kind words really makes a difference in soooo many people’s lives. i’m thankful for their existence, their sacrifice and their hard work. also i want to say that i will support them no matter what they choose to do in the future, whether it be retiring, or marrying the love of their life, or having children. they deserve to find their own happiness after being ours for so long.

for exo, i think there are no words to express how much of an impact they’ve made to my life (i’ve stanned for nearly 7 years now! my entire teenage years). i’ll probably just give them a big hug if i could and tell them that i’m super proud of them and that i love them. and that it will always be an honour to be their fan.

13. I’m taking you out on a date and it’s your choice. Where are we going and what are we going to do?

FOR FOOD AND BUBBLE TEA. 

this is like the ideal date for me. we go try out a new restaurant and i intro you to my fav bbt place~

14. Do you like sweet or savory foods?

depends on my mood! usually savoury unless i’m craving chocolate specifically

15. Do you have any band merchandise or merchandise from any of your favorite artists? If so, what?

i’m not sure whether you guys know this but i’m a baby ahgase!! so sadly i don’t own any got7 merch :(( (i’m so tempted to buy some tho, especially hear here)

i have 5 exo albums (xoxo, growl, monster, lucky one and tempo), 2 posters in my bedroom, 1 in my study and a few more rolled up cos idk how to put them up properly!!! i also have an exo planet concert shirt~

16. (i added this question bc min tagged me ages ago but i couldn’t come up with decent ones) 3 random facts!!

my fav got7 title track is tied between eclipse and ycmn

i just read me before you and watched the movie (the book is 100 times better)

my fav videos to watch on youtube are cafe vlogs (specifically: pouring espresso on top of a cup of milk to make iced latte, ahhh satisfying)

Tagging: @mxillusion @beombam @jinyoungsir @tuangelic @defnabeom @listlessmaenads @ilytuan @defwons (the blogs that i really admire and frequently appear on my dash!! thank you all for posting and brightening up my day 🥺) + anyone who read this far and wants to do it too!