#Why did I get a weird job. Why do I want weird things. Why am I weird.

[taleya15]

"Just friends"

*Ring*

*Ring*

*Ring *

"Nothing. Again. Great." Mike sighed against the wall of his basement. He hates when Joyce is working, which is constantly now. He rings up Dustin to complain. Because Lucas is at basketball practice like always. So Dustin is all Mike has now. It's weird because Will used to be the person Mike would go to so he can complain and rant to. Now Will's mom is the reason he complains. Dustin is quick to answer like always, and for a moment Mike feels grateful.

"No answer?"

"Nope. Nothing. I'll try again in an hour, but for now! What the actual fuck dude! I hate Joyce's job! It's so stupid that I basically have to schedule a meeting with my best friend!"

"I know. I know man. I'm sorry."

Mike sighs out but doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Thanks for trying though man."

"Of course man. But hey listen I gotta go, my mom's calling me up. She wants a new cat."

"Oh. Haha have fun."

"I won't. See ya man."

"See ya!" With the sound of the hanging up beep, Mike sighs again and walks to the couch. He plops down dramatically and starts thinking. He hates this so much. All he wants to do is at least talk to Will. The only thing that can calm him down in a bad mood is Will. El helps when she can, but Will is the only one who can fix it completely.

He hates that too. He hates that the only person who can calm him down is the person he can never reach. He hates that he can't go to his girlfriend about this. She could only understand and help so much. But Will.. he understands everything Mike says. Sometimes Mike wishes Will was a girl. Then maybe it'd be easier, but he loves El. At least he thinks he does anyway. Eventually he realizes the time and realizes the full hour has passed. An hour of self loathing and anxiety. Great another one.

Mike gets up again and goes to the phone. He almost doesn't pick it up. He almost just leaves it alone and goes to sulk for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time. But something in him tells him to try again. Maybe it's his stubbornness, or his desire to talk to Will that does it. But he picks the phone up anyway and while he puts the number in he gets a weird rush of Deja Vu. But he pushes on and listens to ring of the phone. It's five rings later and he almost hangs up. But then there’s a different sound, a pause then the sound of the phones connecting.

"Hello, Byers residents. Joyce speaking."

"Oh! Joyce hey!"

"Mike? Oh hi hun! Haven't heard from you in a while! What's going on? How's school going?"

"Uh. Yeah school's great thanks."

"Right! Silly me! You're calling for Will aren't you?"

"Haha yes ma'am I am. Is he there?"

"Yes! I'll put him on now!"

There's a muffled sound of Joyce's voice then there's something different that happens.

"Uh hello?" Will answers the phone seemingly confused. His voice seems deeper, like three octaves deeper. It surprises Mike for a moment, but he pushes past his initial thoughts and speaks to him. Finally.

"Will!"

"Mike! Hey man! How- how are you? I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Yeah. Yeah I know sorry man." I tried calling you, like every day. But that sentence dies in his throat. He wouldn't dare say that out loud. He'll sound like a wimp.

"That-that's ok! How's it going?"

"Um. It- it's fine thanks. How um how is it for you?"

“... good. Are you sure you're ok? You can tell me." Great. He saw right through it like aways.

"I- I just honestly had a terrible day today." He sighs uncomfortably he really doesn't want to elaborate. But he knows he has to.

"Oh I'm sorry what happened?" Mike sighs again and thinks of something to say. He can't say the real reason why. He can barely admit to himself the real reason.

"Oh. Um I got a bad grade on my exam today." That actually was true, he did get a really bad grade on an exam today in math. But he honestly didn't care about that. He couldn't care less about it, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

"Oh man! I'm sorry I understand, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I- I don't know right now."

"Well I can distract you."

"That sounds great actually."

For the next ten minutes Will talks about anything that he can think of. Mike mostly listens, but he loves the conversation. He feels at ease for the first time all day. And for a moment, a single moment he wishes he could tell Will what he's desperately wanting to tell him. He's dying to confess to him, to say 'Will, I'm so desperately in love with you. I wish I could be with you, I don't care about El. She's nothing to me, because I can't have you.’ But instead he just listens and reminds himself that they're "just friends". And Mike would never dare ask Will his feelings either.

Because he's convinced that Will's straight, but is he?

[fandom-susceptible]

TDP Rewatch: S1 E3, "Moonrise"

It's interesting that they zoomed on Soren's face as the procession crossed the courtyard, not Harrow's - and that he didn't look nervous, just determined. He was right, too.

God, Harrow cuddling with his bird is the cutest thing. That bird adores him. Also, (who gives the best birdie kisses) "Pip Does." was said so fiercely and then the face he made after, I just. Ah, that hit me in the chest.

How is "hard-headed" more acceptable in your vernacular than "stubborn", Viren? Or are you just the only one you want to be insulting Harrow in public?

It's interesting how Viren's smiling in the coronation portrait, but Harrow isn't. Viren says Harrow insisted on doing the portrait together, but I . . . have my doubts, now.

Yeah honestly Claudia we're on the same page about the persimmon jelly.

Something about how Ezran doesn't hesitate to trust Rayla, and when she kneels in front of the egg she looks at him so softly even though ten minutes ago she was convinced he had to die - and then Claudia, whom Ezran has known his entire life, threatens violence immediately and just keeps spouting threats while trying to get him to cooperate with her. They showed us who these girls were from the very beginning; Claudia acts sweet but in the moment of truth will turn cruel, and Rayla projects coldness but in the moment of truth will offer love instead. It's a neat mirror. And I love the way Rayla smiles at Ezran when he looks to her for reassurance in that very first moment in Viren's dungeon. That moment of yes, I'm with you.

They really sell being teenagers in this first season, and I love it. "NOT THAT WAY!" "WHY?" *runs into wall* "Is this a guessing game? Just do it!" "I'M A MAGE!" *shushes him* "Nobody likes a loud mage."

Also, can we talk about how the first time Rayla actually touched Callum was to shush him in that moment? And how she was the first person to call him a mage? And how she then proceeded to tell him something she's clearly said before, which when I first watched I assumed was just a common saying/joke in Xadia, but after finding out Ethari is a mage might be a family in-joke? Yeah I've got Rayllum feelings why

"What's in the basket? A bigger moth?" omg Soren is SUCH a sarcastic little shit around Viren and I love that for him????

Also, "When all of your swords have failed." is such a clear attempt to undermine Soren's personal confidence, and the worst part is I bet Viren didn't even do it consciously. He's just so used to tearing Soren down that he doesn't have to think about it anymore, it's become automatic. It's a really common trait of abusive parents and I hate him so much for it. (obligatory acknowledgement that I actually love it as a writing choice, it's great. He is a bad guy! I am supposed to dislike him! They did a good job!) But also, Soren responding to it with a spiteful defense of his soldiers was a good moment for him.

"We go way back! Like that one time, ten minutes ago, when you chased me through the castle trying to stab me!" Bless Jack De Sena for Callum's voice acting and also bless whoever animated his and Rayla's expressions in that exchange because I am fucking wheezing

Can we talk about how Harrow's tone was coldly neutral until Viren walked in and sat in Harrow's marriage bed, uninvited, and then the next thing he said - "Your friend?" sounded venomous? Or that fucking single eyebrow raised when Viren said "brother". Harrow is WELL aware that his best friend has a weird gay thing about him, and he regrets not nipping that in the bud before it became this unhealthy obsession.

Yeah that whole "On. Your. Knees." does not get less gay with subsequent rewatches. Like bruh. They showed this to kids. Harrow. I stg. But also, Harrow sees Viren's weird gay obsession and meets his freak by putting him down about it, in a way that they both know he wouldn't if he actually returned it with any kind of affection. Oh, I think all Harrow's dialogue about Viren's arrogance and self-importance was very much also what he meant, I don't think he was talking around anything, but yeah, that was. Wow.

Also ngl Harrow can tell me to do anything he goddamn wants if he talks in that tone, jesus

Interesting. Okay so Runaan does say that humans are liars - he doesn't say there's nothing worth sparing, as Rayla seemed to imply. He's been tricked before. That said, for all he talks a big game about his ruthlessness, he doesn't just shoot Callum outright. He warns him that he's made a mistake and he very much takes his time nocking that arrow. He doesn't want to kill this kid if he doesn't have to.

I also love that one moment where his eyes go wide after Rayla tells him again he needs to call off the mission, in the middle of "You know it doesn't work that way." He glances down at his own bindings and he looks panicked for half a second before covering it in this sudden anger that doesn't quite fit with how he reacted to the egg's appearance. He's scared. He knows she's right, but he's much older, more set in his ways, and doesn't see a way out. He's fucked up. So he just tries to fall back on what he's Supposed to do - just finish the mission, worry about the egg later, because those are the rules.

And then Rayla sends the boys away and forces him to confront those values instead of just falling back on them. Now he doesn't get to separate himself and his feelings from reality. And I don't think she actually believes he'll kill her here, even though he threatens to and she smirks and says "Probably" - if he was willing to do that, he would have done it already, and they both know it. She's just forcing him to confront the conflict between his moral values and his cultural ones.

oh, god, I forgot that Ezran brought up Callum calling him Dad in the very first episode.

I think it's interesting how Runaan accuses Rayla of being "Better than this" while very obviously holding back. He keeps pausing. Rayla's constantly in motion in this fight, whether attacking or defending or just trying to catch her breath, but he attacks once and then waits for her to recover, defends once and freezes up. He can't do this. Now he's the one hesitating and he can't stop doing it. Rayla has to know this too - that's why she sasses him when he realizes she's just stalling, because she knows she's gotten into his head. She knows he can't stop her because he can't bring himself to hurt her. So if she can just call on the fatherly part of him a little more, maybe she can get him on her side. It just doesn't quite work, because he's too set in his ways and his teenage daughter's wild idea is not enough to convince him that turning the entire world upside down is possible.

Do you think Viren had a moment of abject panic when Callum said "I know what you did!" after he came out of Harrow's chambers after switching the king's soul out with Pip's? Like HOW THE FUCK DOES THE KID KNOW, I LITERALLY JUST DID - "You stole the egg of the Dragon Pricne!" oh nvm. wait, what. why does he know that, who - what the fuck is happening right now?

Soren insisting Callum is the prince and refusing to arrest him is another good moment for him. Bless that young man for trying so hard. But also, Viren taking Callum's voice was awful on so many levels, and Soren's lack of surprise makes that one hurt??? Because. Viren had that spell just right there in his sleeve. He constantly undermines and dismisses Soren. Now he's using it so casually on the prince. Has he done this to Soren before? Is that why Soren's face just went so stony and he refused to say anything else after that? Viren is just such a fundamentally awful person and I love to hate him.

Knowing more about the assassins has me watching this scene with so much interest now. It's Runaan's arrow that hits Soren first, but Skor's the first through the door - two blades and brute strength. Ram hits the ground next, going low with no visible weapons, with Callisto and Andromeda flanking him with Callisto's glaive and Andromeda's sickles. Runaan brings up the rear with a bow, and honestly? He's walking in with his horns already at heights Ram and Andromeda leaped to get to, moving the slowest of any of them, not curling in or dodging or anything. He's just strode in leaving himself wide open because fuck you, I guess, what does this bitch have to worry about? That's terrifying.

The fucking "DA!" He does does undercut the intimidation as a viewer tho now I'm just laughing at him because his actor clearly was not out of breath or stressed when delivering that.

I've never noticed before that the elves reacted to Viren's spell releasing Callum's voice. Or that Soren moved between Viren and recovering control of the spell. Skor stepped back from a fight and glanced towards the spell, got distracted by it. Callisto ducked as if he thought it was coming towards him. Ram and Andromeda didn't twitch but Runaan bridled at it too.

Callisto was the first to reach the door but couldn't break it open and Soren went for him. The assassins converge on the door and Soren manages to hold off Callisto, Ram, and Andromeda all at once for a moment before Skor and Runaan step in. Runaan just wholly grabs a guard by the face and throws them to the ground with his bare hands (well, gloved, but weaponless). As in like. Picks them up off the floor and slams them back down one-handed by the face. I know he's an antagonist right now and like we like the guards in Katolis they're fine but also the sheer ability to do that is hot I'm so sorry.

When the elves press the door again after Callum calls for "Dad!" it's Skor to the left, Runaan, and Callisto to the right, and Runaan has zeroed in on Soren as the greatest obstacle to their goals. He's bigger than Soren, has an advantage in height, weight, strength, and experience, and he's bearing down on him but losing time, and Ram ends up lunging in to try and take Soren out while Runaan has him distracted. And it doesn't work, Soren manages to block them both at once. He's genuinely very good at his fucking job and I hate that Viren tore him down so much he doesn't see it.

Oh, fuck. Andromeda was the first elf to fall. We don't see her after the first clash at the door breaks free. Ram disappears briefly but returns at Runaan's side, everyone's converging on the door again, but she's gone.

Rayla's so quickly ride or die for these boys and this mission, and I love her so much for it. "Say the word, and I'll go back into that tower with ye." And she meant it. But she'll also guard them on their way out, when that's what they choose to do instead.

Can we also address that Soren's losing guards left and right to the clash in this tower, and Viren is RIGHT THERE, able to do random magic like stealing the voice from a kid, but he doesn't do a thing to assist in the actual battle? Absolutely nothing to help his son in their alleged shared goal of defending the king?

Runaan stumbles through clutching his side, and given the wounds we see later, I'm guessing Soren kicked him in the ribs to get out of one of their sword locks and broke them. He also can't breathe right. There's a bruise on his jaw and we saw from how Soren fought with Ram (and how he fights later) that he's willing to just punch people with his other hand while he's got them distracted with his sword. I'm betting most of his injuries are from Soren, including the broken horn. We don't see that part happen. I'm actually gonna, once this episode is over, skip ahead to the season 7 finale briefly to see Runaan's retelling of this scene, because I'm curious about those moments between that we missed here.

the binding also doesn't fall off until he reaches the balcony. Pip/Harrow wasn't killed instantly; he just succumbed quickly to what I'm betting was the poison on Runaan's arrow.

The face he gives after releasing the arrow hits, though, because he's reporting a failure. I'm also very interested in like, what he thought would happen for Rayla here. I would have guessed initially that his "Your justice will come later." was meant as him realizing if she stops them, if they fail, she'll suffer becoming a Ghost, but he's surprised by the news in season 7. Did he just assume there wouldn't be a unanimous vote to ghost her? It would sort of make sense; there's a certain amount of arrogance he clearly has regarding his own place in the Silvergrove, and a lot of it's justified by how the community treats him and Ethari. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to guess that as his daughter and a clearly talented and relatively respectable warrior in her own right, there would be at least a few voices who were reluctant to abandon her entirely, even if she'd have to live with the same of losing her hand to her failure. That's a thing I don't think we give enough credit to, either, is the fact that Ghosting has to be a unanimous decision and therefore, not everyone in Rayla's position ends up ghosted. That's why the bindings are there. She'd have had to sacrifice her hand, but if she was respected enough to begin with to escape a ghosting, that would have been it. She'd pay her price and still get to go home.

Claudia appearing just to insist "we can find more practical uses for this one" gives me the creeps. Like "she sees Runaan and sees spell parts, not a person" kind of creeps.

I'm so very fond of this credits sketch, because it shows just how long Runaan has been in her life. Rayla was 8 when she moved in with him and Ethari - she's clearly younger than that here, and he's already there teaching her things, so clearly fond of her.

It also shows how her facial markings have changed over time; in this sketch we can see that the slash mark used to go both above her brow and below her eye, presumably unbroken (Lain's across the eye markings also cover his eyelids, so stands to reason hers would too). The curve below her eye is also different, where Runaan's remains consistent in this sketch to the show.

I could comment on her reaction to losing Harrow's binding but honestly like. That's been analyzed to death for six years straight. I don't really feel the need to go over something that's been addressed repeatedly in the show already.

Addition after checking the story in Season 7, so don't read further if you haven't seen that yet:

Runaan's horn was not broken yet when he broke into the room. Skor was the only one who made it in after him. So the other assassins may never have seen Harrow at all, and the fighting after the poisoned arrow hit Pip could have lasted for a while, justifying Runaan's ability to vault into the room initially but also barely being able to stumble out onto the balcony in the end.

So Andromeda died before they even got the door open. Skor followed Runaan through the door, but we don't see Callisto or Ram after that point, so they may or may not have made it that far. I would guess that Runaan's grievous injuries were likely due to fighting virtually on his own for an extended period of time, and the brief time he got to send off the shadowhawk was Skor's last sacrifice, keeping them busy for long enough to do that.

[charliedawn]

HUNT THE FREAK

Eddie Munson x Teacher!Reader

Part 4

You were grading papers at the bench you had first met Eddie when you felt someone watching you. Glancing up, you found Eddie sitting there in front of you, an easy smirk on his lips and—was that your sandwich ?!

You blinked. “Are you seriously eating my lunch right now, Mister Munson ?”

Eddie took a huge bite, groaning dramatically. “Mmm, man. This ? This is art. You sure you’re in the right profession ? ‘Cause I think you might’ve missed your true calling.”

You stared at him. He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “If you wanted a sandwich, you could’ve just asked. I would have made two.”

You then looked back down at the papers you were grading and shook your head.

“Oh, I know,” he said through another bite. “But where’s the fun in that ?”

You exhaled, putting down your pen. “Eddie. Why are you really here ?”

He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Well, I figured since you haven’t ratted me out yet about the drug stuff, you’re either the coolest teacher I’ve ever met or you’re really bad at your job.”

You gave him a deadpan look. He held up his hands and chuckled.

“Kidding ! Kidding. You’re great. Phenomenal, even.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And ?”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers against the table. Then, with an uncharacteristically sheepish look, he muttered, “I might need help with, uh…English, and Philosophy, and Maths…and actually—everything ?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Mister Munson. Are you asking me for tutoring ?”

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t make it a whole thing, teach. You don’t have to. Just wanted to shoot my shot…just in case.”

You stared at him for a moment before a slow smile crept onto your face. “Alright, Eddie,” you said, leaning back. “I’ll help you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wait—really ?”

You nodded. "Yes. How about we start tonight after school ? I will help you with English, Philosophy and History. However, we will need other people to tutor you in scientific subjects and sports."

He raised an eyebrow and a smile extended across his face. "Tonight ? Damn, you really want to get started immediately, huh ? I thought we’d start all that next week or something. And uh…I dunno of any smarty-pants my age who’d wanna help with the nerdy subjects. Definitely no one I know who’s good at sports, though."

You started thinking about it. "…We need someone who is notoriously good at sports. Do you know anyone who might want to help you ? I mean…I would ask Jason, but I am not sure you two are on very good terms."

The mention of Jason immediately made Eddie scoff and roll his eyes. "Yeah, me and the king of Hawkins High ain’t exactly best buddies, so I’d rather not ask him. He’d probably tell me to piss off."

He thought about it for a few seconds, trying to think of someone who could help with sports before he seemed to find a name. "…Maybe Lucas Sinclair ? I’ve seen him play basketball, he’s pretty good—"

You smiled. "Great. And I guess I might ask Mrs. Kelly Schmidt for the scientific subjects. She is retired, but as she is my aunt—I might ask her for her help."

He nodded once, taking note of the names. "Lucas Sinclair, Mrs. Kelly Schmidt. They sound like a good choice. But…I gotta warn you. I’ve probably missed so much stuff that it’s gonna be like starting from scratch. Can’t promise you I’ll learn everythin’ as quickly as you hope. I’m gonna be pretty slow…if you could even call it learning. I doubt I’ll even be able to learn anything at all."

You took his hand. "Mister Munson. You will succeed. I promise."

He had to fight back the urge to smile as you grabbed his hand. The moment felt…weird, but also nice. He’d honestly never had anyone support him so much like you did. He wasn’t used to it, but he kinda…liked it. He nodded at your words, trying to keep his cool. "I sure hope so, teach. I don’t wanna disappoint you."

You smiled. "You won’t."

He wasn’t completely convinced, but your words somewhat reassured him. He wasn’t used to having anyone have such blind optimism towards him. But for some reason, he believed that you’d be right, that he’d actually succeed.

He nodded. "…Alright, I’ll trust you. So…English, Maths and Sports. Those are my worst subjects, anyway."

You nodded and smiled. "So…see you tonight at the library at 5:30 pm, Mister Munson ?"

He smiled back and nodded. “Sure. Library, 5:30. I’ll be there. See ya later, teach.”

You nodded back. "Well, run along now."

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’.” He stood up and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He put down the sandwich to leave, but couldn’t help but turn back around to look at you one last time.

“Hey, teach…”

You looked at him. "Yes, Mister Munson ?"

He hesitated before saying. “I just…wanna say thanks. Y’know, for putting so much effort into all this. Never had a teacher so invested in me and my education like you are. It, uh…it means a lot.”

Your eyes widened slightly before you nodded. "Thank you for your kind words, Mister Munson. I will see you tonight."

He nodded once, a small smile on his face. “Yeah. See you then, teach.”

With that, he finally headed out of the class, disappearing into the hallway. Your eyes followed him until he was out of sight before your smile faltered slightly. You sighed before getting rubbing your eyelids. And just like that, your life at Hawkins High got a whole lot more interesting.

…

That night, at exactly 5:30 PM, you sat at a table in the Hawkins High library, a neat stack of books in front of you. You glanced at the clock, half-expecting Eddie to be late—or not show up at all. But, to your surprise, at 5:29 PM, the library doors swung open, and in strolled Eddie Munson, looking a little out of place but determined.

He dropped his bag onto the chair opposite you, flopping into it dramatically. "Alright, teach. Hit me with your best shot. Let’s see if this brain of mine can actually hold onto something that isn’t song lyrics or D&D rules."

You smiled, handing him a notebook. "Let’s see where you’re at, and then we’ll go from there."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Alright, but if I start crying, you better pretend not to notice."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No promises, Munson. Now, let’s get started."

And with that, the tutoring sessions began.

“Now, is there anything in particular you’d like to start with ?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I’m failing everything, so it doesn’t matter where we start. It’s all the same.”

There was a flicker of disappointment in your eyes, but you quickly pushed it aside, offering him a reassuring smile.

“That’s perfectly fine. How about we start with English ? You read Of Mice and Men. What did you think ?”

Eddie slumped slightly, considering the question.

“It was…good,” he admitted. “A lot of the fancy writing stuff went over my head, but I liked the story. It was real sad, though—all that stuff with Lennie and…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “Didn’t like the ending.”

You nodded, leaning forward. “That’s fair. What about it didn’t sit right with you ?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“It just felt hopeless. I know that’s the point, but I hated how it all ended like that. What’s the point of fighting for something if it’s just gonna blow up in your face ?”

You studied him for a moment. “So, you think George and Lennie deserved a happy ending ?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said without hesitation. “They went through all that crap together. They were the only ones who really had each other, y’know ? They deserved better. They didn’t deserve to end like everyone else.”

You caught onto something in his voice��something bitter, something personal. You smiled and tilted your head quizzically at him.

“...Like everyone else ?” you asked gently.

A dry scoff left his lips. “Yeah. ‘Cause let’s be real—how often does anyone actually get a happy ending ? People either fail, get left behind, or end up alone. It’s all just—” He gestured vaguely. “Empty.”

You hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a dark turn, but you could work with that. You knew that Eddie had been raised by his uncle and that it made him lonely to some extent. He thought happy endings didn’t exist—and who could blame him ?

“I don’t think it was about the end,” you said carefully. “I think it was about the dream itself. About hope.”

Eddie frowned. “Hope ?”

He eyed you skeptically, arms tightening over his chest.

“How does hope matter if everything just ends in failure and disappointment ?”

You shook your head.

“Not all dreams end badly,” you said softly. “George’s stories gave Lennie something to hold onto. Something to believe in. And even in the end, George made sure Lennie died thinking about that dream—about their little house, the rabbits, a future where he belonged.”

Eddie’s expression flickered, just for a second, before he masked it again.

“I guess…” he muttered. “Still sucks, though. Would’ve been better if they actually got their happy ending.”

You smiled, though there was sadness in it.

“But would it have felt real ?” you asked. “Steinbeck wrote about people fighting for something, even when the odds were against them. That’s why it resonates with so many people. Because even if their dream didn’t come true, Lennie believed in it until the very end. And that belief made him happy.”

Eddie was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he huffed a small, reluctant laugh.

“You make it sound way deeper than I did.”

You grinned. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Eddie sat in silence for a moment, mulling it over. A part of him still felt like the whole thing was cruel—like the writer had dangled hope in front of people just to rip it away at the last second. But at the same time…he got what you were saying. And, if he was being honest, you had a point. Lenny died happy. George was sad to have to kill him but…Lenny died happy."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before nodding.

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right, teach. It’s just—” He exhaled sharply. “It’s just sad, y’know ?”

You nodded, your voice soft.

“It is. It’s heartbreaking. But think about it—two men, poor, unemployed, one with a disability, fighting on until the very end because of that dream. That little ranch, the rabbits, that life they believed they could have.” You smiled, though there was sorrow in it. “That’s beautiful.”

Eddie considered that. And, yeah…he couldn’t deny it. George and Lennie had held onto hope for as long as they could, even when the world gave them every reason to let go.

He hesitated, debating whether to say what was on his mind.

“…Miss G ?”

You raised an eyebrow at the nickname but played along. He had already called you that before and you didn’t want to correct him. He seemed to have grown attached to the nickname.

“Yes, Mister Munson ?”

He took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if he even wanted to ask. But the words were already forming, and something about talking to you—someone who actually listened—made him feel like maybe he should.

“Be honest with me, teach…Do you think people can actually make their dreams come true ? Their hopes, their wishes…?” His voice trailed off, eyes dropping to the table. “That it’s not just…y’know…”

You rested your chin on your palm, offering him a small, knowing smile.

“Well…I think it depends. On the person. And the dream.” Your gaze softened. “You do have a dream, don’t you Mister Munson ?”

He nodded, slow and hesitant. It felt strange to even admit it out loud—only his uncle really knew. He never talked about it with anyone else, never gave them the chance to shoot it down. But for some reason, right now…he wanted you to know. He had given you his essay, but maybe talking about it would help.

He swallowed hard, fingers tapping restlessly against the table.

“It—it’s kinda stupid,” he muttered. “Not like it’ll ever actually happen, but…” He took a breath, steeling himself. “I wanna make it big. Be a star. Play to sold-out crowds, have people actually pay to see me. And my band—Corroded Coffin.”

The words hung in the air between you. You listen attentively. And for once, Eddie Munson wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear someone else’s opinion—or if he was terrified of it.

You sat in silence for a moment, studying him.

“Do you want my honest opinion, Eddie ?”

His stomach twisted slightly as he nodded, bracing himself. He fully expected you to laugh, to tell him it was a foolish dream, that guys like him didn’t make it out of places like Hawkins. But then you smiled.

“I believe you’ll make it. I believe you’ll graduate. I believe you’ll leave Hawkins. And I believe I’ll be holding the very first ticket to Corroded Coffin’s first real concert.”

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped. Of all the responses he’d imagined, that one hadn’t even crossed his mind. He stared at you, wide-eyed, struggling to process what you’d just said. For a few seconds, he was completely speechless.

Then, finally, he managed to snap out of it.

“You—wait, what ? Are you serious, teach ?”

You chuckled.

“Did I stutter, Mister Munson ?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish.

“Uh…no, guess you didn’t. But do you really think I can make it ? Really ? With Corroded Coffin?”

Your smile softened.

“Well, I don’t know much about metal—or Corroded Coffin, for that matters—but yes, Eddie. I believe in you. And I believe that, given time, you’re capable of great things.”

Eddie was stunned for a moment before a wide grin crept onto his face. A warm sense of pride swelled in his chest. Someone believing in him—truly, wholeheartedly believing—almost too good to be true. He suddenly wanted to give you a high-five, maybe even a hug, just for saying that. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt this way.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he absentmindedly toyed with one of his rings.

“Damn, teach…if you keep saying stuff like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re in love with me or somethin’…”

Your amused expression immediately flattened into something unimpressed.

“Mister Munson. Please. Do not be ridiculous. Now, let’s focus back on Of Mice and Men before I start getting gray hair from this.”

Eddie let out another chuckle, nodding.

“Relax, teach, relax…I’m only kiddin’. But yeah, yeah, Of Mice and Men, right…”

He glanced down at his open book, pretending to study it for a few moments before snickering to himself.

“But y’know…I just know you’d look real good with gray hair. I can see it now—” A slow smirk spread across his face as he imagined it: you, years from now, shaking your head at him, strands of gray streaking through your hair, all because of the stress of helping him graduate.

You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Mister Munson. Book.”

His grin widened at your reaction, but he nodded, flipping through the pages.

“Right, right, book. Got it…”

You shook your head with a small smile before resuming the lesson. You then went over some key elements for the tests and you explained to him some key moments in history—trying to make him remember the dates and the places. He took notes and smiled. It wasn’t bad. Once it was over, you stood up, gathering your things.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister Munson. Try to rest. And maybe—maybe—attend all your classes ?”

Eddie stood as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. No promises, though—there’s only so much chemistry a human brain can take in one day, y’know ?”

As he gathered his stuff, he glanced at the door, then back at you. That familiar, mischievous grin returned.

“Hey, teach ?”

You turned as you walked toward the library doors.

“Yes, Mister Munson ?”

He trailed behind, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As you both stepped into the hallway, he leaned down slightly, voice lowering to a playful murmur near your ear.

“Can I ask ya somethin’ real quick ? Just a lil’ thing I wanna know.”

You arched an eyebrow at him and smiled.

“You are full of questions, aren’t you ? Too bad they’re rarely about the curriculum.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, teach…not every question has to be about school.” That signature smirk of his grew as he tilted his head, eyeing you with that teasing glint in his gaze. “This one’s not, by the way. Just one quick question. Pretty please ?”

You sighed, already sensing trouble, but humored him anyway as you both walked down the empty corridor toward the exit.

“One.”

A triumphant grin spread across Eddie’s face as he stepped just a little closer, clearly enjoying this little game.

“Alright then…This one’s real easy. Just a fun little question…”

He paused when you reached the entrance, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes locked onto yours with unmistakable amusement.

“Do you…have a boyfriend, by any chance ? A husband ? Or a girlfriend ? I am not judging if you do. Just…wondering.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, arching an eyebrow as you looked at him. You blinked. That was definitely unexpected. He seemed to sense your discomfort and quickly added.

“Not to be weird or anything but…I was just wondering if you didn’t have a family to take care of ? Wouldn’t want you to miss on fun family bonding time because you’re tutoring lil’ old me, you know ?”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at him.

"Now…why would you be asking that ? Why do you care, Mister Munson ?"

Eddie shrugged, still leaning lazily against the wall, tilting his head slightly.

“Just…curious.”

With that, he pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. That ever-present smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze locked onto yours. His hands remained tucked into the pockets of his jacket, but the way he stood—just a little too close for a casual student-teacher conversation.

You let out a hum and placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back.

"…Sorry, Mister Munson. But I am not interested in answering that question. It is of an intimate nature. Ask another one—or remain silent."

He let out a small scoff at the push but didn’t resist, allowing himself to be moved back slightly. He shrugged, though the smirk never left his face.

“Come on, Miss G…”

He stayed quiet for a beat, still standing a little too close, before humming under his breath.

“Fine, fine…one other question, then.”

Then, without warning, he took another step forward, closing the distance between you once more. His eyes darkened slightly, that cocky grin growing as he leaned down, just enough to angle himself over you.

“Do you…have any interest in dating someone younger than you, by any chance ?”

You stared at him for a long moment, unimpressed. No shame whatsoever.

"Mister Munson. That is another inappropriate question. Now, I believe it is time for us to go our separate ways. See you tomorrow, in class." And with that, you turned on your heel and walked out of the school.

Eddie sighed, rocking back on his heels as he watched you go. He supposed he’d have to settle for the small bit of fun he’d managed to squeeze out of the moment. But just before you disappeared from view, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called after you, his voice filled with unhidden amusement.

“Alright, teach ! See ya tomorrow—and sweet dreams !”

You simply raised a hand in a wordless wave, never looking back as you got into your car.

He watched as you drove off, his smirk lingering. A small part of him was annoyed that you hadn’t given him a straight answer. But a bigger part of him ? Yeah. He definitely liked messing with you. Besides, it was just mindless teasing. He knew he had no chance whatsoever. He was just curious. Maybe he’d just have to try again another time to have an answer. Chuckling to himself, Eddie shoved his hands back into his pockets and started walking away.

[0xeyedaisy]

Aw man...

[icewindandboringhorror]

just a few little bits from the past few days

[pilonciillo]

on another note

[ask-artsy-oncie]

I wish I was not an unintelligent manchild.

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines

[werebear-butch]

starting to realize i’ve spent so much of my life longing for and working towards the future and now i struggle to just. live in the present sometimes

[surreal-duck]

messing around a bit

[talkorsomething]

Me when everything is hard & i know why and i just have to get over myself But Also

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[kuiinncedes]

bro

[biromanticwritergal]

Bipolar Impulsivity is starting to Ruin my Life...

Is it August yet??? I just want this class to be over and done with. Give me my degree and get out of my face!!!

I'm so tired and irritated by how everything I do feels like nothing or the wrong thing (This class is so fucking overwhelming). I've been a bit impulsive lately and I'm still kicking myself out of the stupid things I did lately.

I can understand now why one of my friends from when I was younger wants nothing to do with me now. I was trying to talk to her last week but she left me on read for a whole week. I was going to try to invite her to a concert with me but if she doesn't even want to talk to me then I'm obviously NOT going with her. (She's an IRL friend who I grew up with). So now I'm stuck with these tickets I bought and scraped the hell out of my savings for. Not her fault, of course, my dumb ass should NOT have bought the tickets b/c I can't really afford them. 200 dollars is SO MUCH Fucking money. Especially because I make almost nothing. I'm going to have to either return or resell the tickets. >:(

One of my online friends goes to concerts a lot and I thought it would be fun to go see Avril Lavinge but I basically shouldn't have bought the tickets. He has a real job so he can afford the concerts- I can't. My shitty part time job does not pay enough for me to do things like this. I think I was just so stupid and impulsive and bought the tickets because I wanted to do something fun. My life is SO boring right now. But wow, it was so stupid to splurge on something I really cannot afford.

My impulsivity also led me to talk to a bunch of people on reddit too and I REALLY regret some of those conversations. I'm so pissed at myself. I've been taking my medicine like I'm supposed to but I'm actually being affected by bipolar symptoms any way. Fuck. Being tired of my life/bored/lonely is a very bad combination and I've been feeling it lately. I guess this is what I get instead of the more predictable spring hypomania that I used to get on my old medication???

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

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a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️