#but he has in the past showed signs of having an eating disorder and I wish he didn’t normalize it so much

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Olive oil man does not have an ED, he just doesn’t like cooking. Hes said that. He doesn’t do it anymore except on special occasions for stream. If anything it’s disordered eating, but that’s very different from an eating disorder (even if the terms are so similar)

Was he not also doing keto? Because I’m going to be honest doing keto to lose weight is enough of a disordered eating red flag that I wouldn’t call it a stretch to assume he has an ED. The way I remember him talking about food and weight loss and more or less starving himself, unless I have completely confused him with another youtuber, is very textbook ED mentality.

[newobsessionweekly]

something old

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Tim Bradford x bestfriend!reader Series: Something old, new, borrowed, blue Fandom: The Rookie Summary: You and Tim have been best friends for years, but your friendship is jeopardised when you caught feelings for him and Tim decided he wants to propose to Lucy.

Angst

A/N: How I LOVE this one. I've been so exited to post it, I really couldn't resist any more. I hope you like it as much as I do. Feel free to give some feedback and if you have any ideas for the next parts, I'm all ears. Thank you so so much for your support, I appreciate every single one of you. Lots of love, bubs! ❤️ Warnings: eating disorder briefly described, getting drunk ? not proofread yet Requested: not really, yes maybe - here Words: 4k

You buried your head into cases, one after another, working overtime and exhausting yourself on purpose. Keeping your mind occupied with work and the treacherous world outside, you didn't have time to think about your own life. And it was for the best. For the past months you watched the man you've been in love with for years fall for someone you've considered your friend. Of course, neither one of them knew about the feelings evolving inside you with every sight of him, but it doesn't make it less painful. And it still keeps you up at night.

Tim has been your best friend since you can remember. You've been there for each other through thick and thin, always finding solace in each other's arms. He's been your shoulder to cry on, the first person to share your happiness with, and the only one who's got your back. Until now. Sitting at your desk, you checked your watch and sighed. It's almost ten pm and the bullpen is just as quiet as a grave. Your grave, plugged up by your own misery. You didn't catch sign of Tim for weeks, the last thing he said to you was a distant 'morning' thrown in a rush as he left for patrol duty with Lucy. It's funny how you imagined that seeing Tim and Lucy on a daily basis at the station would tear you apart, because right now, not seeing Tim for weeks broke you even more. They kept their distance at work, showing only professionalism as their sparkling glances filled with so much love and joy spoke volumes. Laughter slowly broke the silence, the well known voices echoing through the station. You raised your head a little, to take in the sight as you watched Tim and Lucy bantering. But you noticed something was not right, his smile didn't reach his ears as it used to, eyes don't seem filled with emotion and she didn't seem to notice. You knew Tim like the back of your hand. You could sense something's going on between them, but you lowered your head just in time, before your eyes could meet Tim's. Your intention was not to avoid him, not necessarily, but seeing him so late after his shift ended, surely caught you off guard. Just as his hand on your shoulder did.

You raised your head, startled by the unexpected sensation of warmth as his smile grew on his face, genuine you might say. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he excused himself softly as his eyes searched yours, going back and forth between you and your desk, "What you doing here so late?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden closeness, the warmth of Tim's hand on your shoulder seeping into your bones. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in the depths of his gaze as his eyes searched yours with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Just... catching up on paperwork." you managed to reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling in your mind.

Tim's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher passing through his eyes before it was gone, replaced by a mask of sarcasm. "Doing the homework for the whole department, Detective?"

You chuckled softly, the sound feeling forced even to your own ears. "Something like that," you replied, offering him a weak smile in return.

Tim nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he pulls up a chair beside your desk, his expression serious. "Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind as you nod, motioning for him to continue. "Of course, Bradford. What's on your mind?"

He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing with uncertainty before he finally meets your eyes. "It's about Lucy," he says softly, his voice tinged with nervousness.

His eyes darting away from yours before finally meeting them once more. "I want to propose to Lucy," Tim admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm scared, scared that I'm not good enough for her, scared that I won't be able to protect her."

Your heart clenched at his words, the pain of your unspoken feelings bubbling to the surface once more. But you pushed it aside, forcing a smile onto your face as you reached out to take his hand in yours. "Tim, you're more than good enough for her," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction. "And as for protecting her, well, I think you've proven time and time again that you'd do anything for her."

Tim's eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in their depths. "But what if something happens to her because of me?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart feels like it's been wrenched from your chest at his words, a dull ache settling in the pit of your stomach. You've known for a while now how deeply Tim cares for Lucy, how much he loves her. And yet, the thought of him spending the rest of his life with her, fills you with a sense of profound loss.

You shook your head, a sense of determination coursing through your veins. "Tim, you can't live your life in fear of what might happen and you can't blame yourself for the dangers of this job," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "Lucy knows the risks. She chose to be with you, despite them."

His eyes searched yours, a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty shining in their depths. "Thank you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the din of the bullpen. "I needed to hear that."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently before releasing it, a bittersweet ache settling in your chest. "Anytime, Tim. You know I'm always here for you."

You smiled, pushing the pain aside, burying it deep beneath the surface where no one could see. Because in the end, all that mattered was Tim's happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.

As Tim stands up from the chair, a playful glint dances in his eyes, and he can't resist teasing you. "You know, Detective, it's past your bedtime. Shouldn't you be tucked in by now?"

You roll your eyes with a laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "Oh please, Bradford, like you're one to talk. Last time I checked, we're both adults capable of burning the midnight oil."

Tim chuckles, his laughter filling the room with warmth. "Touché, Y/L/N," he concedes, his smile genuine. "But someone gotta keep you out of trouble."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a grin at his antics. "Like I need you to keep me out of trouble. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. I'm a grown adult who can stay up past bedtime if she wants to," you tease, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Suddenly, Tim's attitude shifts, a concerned expression playing on his face as he leans forward, his voice soft and earnest.

"Seriously, though, Y/N," he says, his tone gentle. "Don't stay up too late, get some sleep. You're no good to anyone if you're running on empty."

You're taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, the warmth of his concern washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the playful banter, you can see the genuine worry in his eyes, a reminder of just how much he cares about you, even if he doesn't always show it.

You smile softly, touched by his concern. "Thanks, Tim," you say sincerely, your voice warm with gratitude. "I'll make sure to hit the hay early tonight. Wouldn't want to dethrone you as the grumpiest cop."

Tim's lips quirk up in a small smile at your teasing, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes. "Hey, watch it." he says softly, his voice gentle. "But take care of yourself, okay? Promise me."

You nod, a sense of warmth settling in your chest at his words. "Promise," you reply, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "And you take care of yourself too, Tim. Don't forget to look after your woman."

With a chuckle, Tim nods, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he turns to leave your office. "I won't," he promises softly, his voice carrying a warmth that fills the space between you. "Thanks, Y/N. For everything."

The station buzzed with activity around you, the usual hustle and bustle of the station fading into background noise as you sat at your desk, lost in a sea of memories and emotions. You've seen the bullpen and the files of criminals more than you've seen your own bed, the caffeine taking place of your breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Since Tim told you about the proposal, it's been radio silence from him, not a word exchanged between the two of you. The weight of his words hangs over you like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over everything you do.

You glance down at your hands, absently tracing your fingers over Tim's dog tag from Afghanistan. He had offered it to you when he safely returned home from the war, a silent acknowledgment of your friendship and the bond you shared. And now, as you hold it in your hands, it feels like a cruel, constant reminder of everything you had lost and everything you could never have.

The tag feels heavy in your palm, a tangible reminder of the weight of your unspoken feelings for Tim. You close your eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they only come rushing back with even more intensity. Memories of late nights spent talking and laughing, of shared secrets and stolen glances, of a friendship that had once meant everything to you.

You've lost weight in the past weeks, the stress and heartache taking their toll on your body. Dark circles ring your eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, haunted by memories of Tim and the friendship you fear may be slipping away.

Angela, your only remaining closest friend and confidante, joins you at your desk, her presence a welcome distraction from the storm raging inside your mind. "How you holding up?" she asks softly, her eyes searching your frame with concern. "I, uh, heard about Tim and Lucy."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile onto your lips as you clear your throat. "I'm really happy for him."

Angela raises an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Liar," she mocks gently. "You don't look fine."

You sigh, the facade slipping for a moment as you meet Angela's gaze. "It's just... been a rough couple of weeks," you admit, the words heavy on your tongue.

"I know, I'm sorry," Angela says sympathetically, reaching out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. "You know, I'm here if you need to talk or something. Or drink it away. Whatever suits you," she adds with a chuckle.

You spot Tim across the bullpen, his back turned as he converses with another officer. A surge of emotion wells up inside you, a tangled mess of longing and heartache that threatens to overwhelm you.

"You know what?" you say suddenly, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "I could use a drink." You pause, a plan forming in your mind. "Or maybe ten. But I have to take care of something first."

Angela looks at you, confusion flickering in her eyes as you rise from your desk and make your way towards Tim. "Y/N!" she calls after you, but you ignore her, your mind made up as you steel yourself for the confrontation that lies ahead.

Outside, the sun sets in a blaze of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the pavement as the city begins to quieten down. But for you, the night is just beginning, a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions swirling around you as you prepare to face the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a mixture of uneasiness and determination swirling inside you. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something familiar in his eyes, a warmth that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sergeant Bradford, may I have a word?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you.

Tim turns to face you, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes in your appearance. The other officer excuses himself, sensing the gravity of the situation.

The circles under your eyes and the weariness in your expression send a pang of guilt coursing through him. He's been so consumed with his own turmoil that he failed to notice the toll it was taking on you.

"Everything okay?" Tim asks, his voice soft with concern.

"Yeah, just wanted to talk to you about something," you reply, your voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside you.

As Tim's concern for your well-being rises, so does his guilt. He knows he's been distant, preoccupied with his own thoughts and emotions. But seeing you like this, so worn down and fragile, hits him harder than he expected. A surge of emotions threatens to overwhelm you, as well, the love you've buried deep down resurfaces, overshadowing the pain and frustration that have consumed you for weeks.

"Hold on a second, Y/N," Tim says, his voice tinged with worry. "When's the last time you slept? Or ate something?"

You feel a surge of anger bubble up inside you, a mask to cover the hurt and vulnerability that threaten to spill over.

"Okay, Bradford. Don't pretend like you care," you snap, your voice sharper than intended. Deep down, you're grateful to know he still cares, but the pain is too raw, too fresh to acknowledge.

"I just thought it's best for you to have this back," you continue, taking his hand and placing the dog tag in his palm. Your voice trembles slightly as you speak, the weight of your words heavy in the air. "You know, for the wedding. Something old. Like... our friendship."

Tim's heart sinks as you push the dog tag into his hand, your words ringing in his ears like a painful echo.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you turn and walk away, leaving Tim speechless and confused in your wake. Deep down, you know you've made the right choice. It's time to let go of the past and move forward, even if it means facing a future without the man you've loved for so long.

He knows he messed up, knows he let you down in ways he can't even begin to comprehend. But as he watches you disappear into the crowd, he's filled with a determination unlike anything he's ever felt before.

He won't let you slip through his fingers, won't let your friendship crumble away to nothing. Whatever it takes, he'll make things right, even if it means facing the painful truth that he's been in love with you all along.

The night air is thick with the scent of alcohol and laughter as you stumble out of the bar, Angela's concerned gaze following your every move. You've had way too much to drink, the alcohol coursing through your veins and clouding your thoughts with a haze of euphoria and pain.

But despite Angela's disapproving glances, you press on, drowning your sorrows in the numbing embrace of alcohol. It's a temporary escape, a fleeting moment of oblivion in a world that seems determined to crush you beneath its weight.

As the night wears on, the alcohol begins to take its toll, your movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated. Your laughter turns to tears, the pain of losing Tim as a friend hitting you with a force you can't begin to comprehend.

And then, just as the world begins to blur around you, Angela's voice cuts through the fog, her words a lifeline in the darkness. "Bradford, get your ass here and clean the mess you've made," she says over the phone, her tone tinged with worry.

Tim's voice responds, filled with concern. "What happened?"

"Y/N's a bit drunk and I can't deal with her by myself," Angela replies, her voice tight with concern.

"Give me five," Tim says, his urgency palpable even over the phone.

As Tim rushes to the bar, his heart pounds in his chest with a mixture of worry and guilt. He can't shake the feeling that he's somehow responsible for the state you're in, that his actions—or lack thereof—have pushed you to this point.

When Tim arrives at the bar, you're a total mess, the alcohol having stripped away all semblance of control. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, tears at his heartstrings in a way he never expected. He can't help but feel a surge of guilt wash over him, knowing that he's played a part in your pain.

He helps you into his car, his touch gentle yet firm, a rush of conflicting emotions floods through you. His hands are warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold reality of the night air.

You feel a pang of sadness as you meet his eyes, clouded with worry and concern. The distance between you feels insurmountable, a chasm widening with each passing moment.

"Come on, Y/N. The party's over. Let's get you home," Tim says softly, his voice filled with concern and they wash over you like a soothing balm, a reminder that even in your darkest moments, he's still there, still willing to help you pick up the pieces.

But you protest, your words slurred and disjointed as you gaze at Angela through heavy-lidded eyes. "Why did you call him?" you mumble, frustration evident in your voice.

He buckles you up, his movements careful and deliberate, a flicker of hope stirs within you. Maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance to salvage what's left of your friendship, to bridge the gap that's grown between you.

Tim exchanges a look with Angela, confusion flickering in his eyes. "Where are her keys?" he asks, his tone serious.

Angela shrugs innocently. "Yeah, that's the problem. She lost her purse. Don't you have a spare key?"

Tim's jaw tightens with frustration. "No. You?"

Angela shakes her head, her expression apologetic. "Obviously not, that's why I called you." she smiles at him playfully, "Good night, Bradford."

As Tim starts the car and pulls away from the curb, the world outside blurs into a hazy kaleidoscope of lights and shadows. You bumble something incoherent through the drive, your words slurred and disjointed as you struggle to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

He helps you out of the car and guides you inside his house, his touch is both gentle and reassuring. Each brush of his hand against yours sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your soul. You lean on him heavily, your legs wobbly from the alcohol as he guides you inside.

Tim leads you to his bedroom, his movements gentle yet firm. He helps you out of your shoes and jacket, his touch lingering longer than necessary as he tucks you into his bed, tracing invisible patterns along your arm, pulling the covers over you. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your bones, soothing the ache in your heart and calming the storm raging inside you.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. "Do you need anything?"

You mumble something incoherent in response, your words slurred and barely audible. As he sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his touch becomes hesitant, unsure of how to navigate the tangled web of emotions between you. His hand hovers over yours, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he debates whether to reach out or pull away.

"You," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim's heart skips a beat at your words, a surge of excitement coursing through him as his touch falters, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. But all he finds is raw honesty, a vulnerability that takes his breath away and leaves him feeling exposed.

He maintains a serious expression, his concern for your well-being overriding any other emotions.

"You're drunk, Y/N," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "You don't know what you're talking about."

But you're insistent, stumbling over your words. "I know," you say, your voice tinged with desperation. "I know I love you and I know I need you."

Tim's heart aches at your words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you. But he knows you're not in the right state of mind to have this conversation now.

But you shake your head stubbornly, your words slurred as you try to leave the bed. "I need to go. What would your fiancée say" you insist.

"Take it easy, Y/N," he says gently, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "You need sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

But you plead with him, your eyes searching his for any sign of reassurance. "Please don't go," you whisper, your voice tinged with desperation.

With a sigh, Tim gives in, knowing that arguing with you now would only make things worse. "Fine," he says softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'll humor you and sleep on the floor."

You pat the empty side of the bed, a small smile playing on your lips. "Here," you say, your voice soft and pleading.

Tim chuckles softly, shaking his head in amusement. "You're so drunk," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you close. "And you're definitely gonna kill me in the morning."

Tim settles into bed beside you, his touch is gentle yet firm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your back. The warmth of his embrace envelops you like a cocoon, comforting and familiar, and you find yourself leaning into him instinctively, seeking solace in his presence.

"But it's definitely worth it," Tim whispers softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns brighter with each passing moment. It's as if every brush of his fingers against your skin is a promise, a silent reassurance that you're not alone, that he's here for you no matter what.

And as you bury your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace you haven't felt in weeks. In this moment, with Tim's arms wrapped around you, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you alone in the darkness.

But beneath the surface, a storm rages within you, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatens to tear you apart. Guilt gnaws at your insides, knowing that you've burdened Tim with your drunken confessions, knowing that you've crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.

His touch is tender yet tentative, as if he's afraid to break the fragile spell that binds you together. He can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that in this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms, clinging to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for love.

And yet, despite the turmoil raging inside you, there's a sense of rightness in this moment, a feeling that you've finally found your place in the world. In Tim's arms, you feel safe and loved, cherished in a way you never thought possible.

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 18

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of body dysmorphia, mentions of an eating disorder, mentions of weight loss, mentions of cheating, mentions of pregnancy (don't worry, it's nothing), depression and anxiety

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!cheerleader!reader

Summary: A conversation with a girl that you had been trying to avoid, leaves you more confused than ever -- it might just be the cause of a storm in your heart.

Word count: 6k

A/N: BIG BIG BIG SHOUTOUT TO THE LITTLE DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER AKA @hellfire--cult thank you so much for helping me, with this chapter especially! I was struggling with the dialogue at the end of this chapter and you were such a big help so thank you -- you're talented, amazing, show-stopping, perfect, thank you for helping me with the dialogues (and so many other ideas) mwah! You guys better follow her and give her stories the love they deserve

series masterlist

-

The gym is filled with girls dressed in their cheer uniforms, the color green is starting to give you a headache, just like the sound of giggles and hushed whispers as the girls next to you talk about the latest gossip. Another supposed breakup. 

This time it’s Tommy and Carol again. 

Just three weeks back, you heard rumors about Steve and Nancy’s apparent breakup,  which turned out to be just a rumor, considering you’ve seen them together – maybe less than before but they are still around each other, laughing and smiling just like before. 

Clearly, they are still together. 

But teenagers love to make up rumors – especially about people like you and Steve. Despite both yours and his fall down the social ladder, you are still the hot topics of the school. 

They love to make up rumors about your relationship or past relationship with Steve and your friendship with Eddie – or as they still like to call him, the freak. 

Apparently you and Eddie had been seen making out in his van. 

Apparently you and Eddie have been in a secret relationship since august, last year. 

Apparently you cheated on the king with the freak. 

Apparently the satan worshiper had cursed your relationship with the king – so he could have you. 

Apparently you are pregnant with Eddie’s baby and living in his trailer. 

Apparently you and Eddie are in love and secretly married – at least, you understand that rumor. The matching rings on both yours and his ring finger may have been the cause of it. 

The pregnancy rumor made you physically sick – it made you stand in front of the mirror, checking for signs that you had gained weight. You did not, it still made you feel nauseous and you had to cancel your dinner ‘date’ with your friends. 

A sigh falls from your lips when you hear Teresa talking about her future in college – Princeton to be exact. Of course the cute brunette has it all, beauty and brains. The straight A student isn’t only one of the smartest students in Hawkins High, she is also one of the prettiest – cat eyes, a small nose and big lips, she is thin but her boobs are, well, they are huge. 

You wonder why you were ever crowned as the queen when girls like her exist. When girls like Heather and Chrissy exist. 

You wonder why Steve ever even looked your way. 

You look down at yourself, your uniform is perfectly ironed, your skin is soft and glowing after scrubbing and lathering it in moisturizer earlier this morning. You reach for the mirror in your bag, wanting to check on your makeup, one more time before the photoshooting. Your hair looks good, your make up looks good and yet, you still don’t like the way you look. 

“Well, don’t you look beautiful.” 

The frown on your face disappears when you hear his voice. Looking over your shoulder,  you see Eddie leaning against the doorframe. He is eying you with a smile on his face. He ignores all the nasty looks from the other cheerleaders before they continue getting ready for the little photo session with Jonathan – who is getting just as many nasty looks as Eddie does. 

You put the little mirror down and walk over to him, smoothing down your skirt as you take in the sight of him. He was forced to leave his leather jacket at home and he had already been whining about it since the early morning hours. Clad in his favorite jeans and a metallica shirt, you can’t help but miss the leather on his skin – it’s his staple piece but, it’s the end of May, much to Eddie’s dismay it’s too warm to walk around with vests and jackets. 

You like seeing his tattoos though and his hair in ponytail or a bun when it does get a little too warm. 

“Hi,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you halt in front of him. 

He smiles down at you, tapping your nose, “hey sweetheart.” 

“Wanna join the photo session?” You joke, gesturing to the girls who are still getting ready as Jonathan is setting up his tripod and his camera. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “give me a uniform and I’m in.”

Giggling, you shake your head, “your butt would look cute in a cheer skirt.”

“Oh, not as cute as yours,” he winks, grinning at you when you look away with a blush on your cheeks. 

“Are you enjoying the last day as the cheer captain?” 

“You have no idea how much I wanna get rid of that title,” you laugh, “I’m ready to give that position up to Chrissy.” 

You haven’t been loving cheerleading as much as you used to. Things changed, especially this year. 

“I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” 

“You and me both, sweetheart.” 

“You know, I always thought that I���d go to college after high school,” you say as you look around the room, “but now, I’m just lost. I wouldn’t even know what to major in if I did go to college a-and I don’t even know what college I’d go to – and why am I even stressing about it, it’s too late for that now–”

Eddie places his hands on your shoulders, “I thought we settled on not stressing about our future anymore.” 

“Yeah but–” 

“No buts,” Eddie chuckles, “you’re taking a gap year, you still got your job at the record store and I’ll work at the garage, we’ll save up some money this summer and then–”

“And then we’ll go on that road trip.”

“Exactly,” he smiles, “we’ve been planning it for weeks now, don’t let college ruin that.”

Your shoulders slump and you sigh, “I just, I hear all of them talking about college,” you pause, gesturing to the girls behind you, “a-and it makes me think that maybe it was a mistake not to apply to any.”

His eyes soften at the worry in your eyes, he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think it’s a mistake.”

“It’s not?” 

“No, you got all the time in the world to join all these boring people in the normal world,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, “let’s live in our own world for a little longer,” he smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he fixes the bow in your ponytail. 

“Our dreams will be crushed the moment we step into the real world, let’s not let that happen so soon.”

You eye his face and curl of his lips as he stares at you. 

“Our own world,” you smile, nodding, “I think I like that more anyways.”

“Yeah?” He grins. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good,” you repeat after him, making him chuckle. 

He tilts his head with a smile on his face, “did you do your make up differently?” 

“Uh yeah, I did pink eye shadow today,” you chuckle, “I’m surprised you noticed it, guys usually don’t pay attention to these things.”

“I’m offended that you think I’m one of those guys,” he jokes, placing his hand on his chest, “I notice everything about you, sweetheart.” 

He notices every slight change. A different hairstyle, new clothes, the new color of your lipstick, the slightest change in your behavior, your eating habits, your struggles. He notices it all. 

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” you smile but the look in your eyes isn’t genuine and it makes him frown. 

“Not as gorgeous as Teresa.”

“Who the fuck is Teresa,” he mumbles in confusion. 

You point to the cheerleader and Eddie follows your gaze. You watch him closely as he looks at the pretty cheerleader. 

Does he think she’s gorgeous? Does he think she looks better than you? Does he think she looks sexy in her tight uniform? Does he think her boobs look good?

The reaction you expected never comes, he scrunches his face up and a look of distaste crosses his features.

“That bitch threw gum in my hair.” 

A laugh tumbles from your lips, you cup your hand over your mouth when the others turn to look at you.

“That’s not funny, y/n!” Eddie frowns, though his eyes are filled with amusement, “Wayne had to cut a chunk of my hair because I couldn’t get it out.” 

“Your poor hair!” You pout, reaching out to touch his curls. 

Both you and Eddie are unaware of the new set of eyes watching the two of you. 

Steve just left the coach’s office, passing by the gym when he heard your laughter, he couldn’t help but peek inside the open gym. 

His eyes fall on you, right away. 

It’s been a while since you had talked, though you had been more present in his life since the night before your birthday, you were still far from actually being back in his life. The only interactions the two of you have are the ones in the hallway or in classes, greeting one another and saying goodbye. That’s all but he wishes he would see more of you. 

Things haven’t been easy in the past few weeks, he barely passed the exams, sleepless nights haunt him and his days usually consist of reading and trying to better his cooking skills – he has nothing else to do. He has no one to talk to, no one to hang out with, no one to be with, not even his parents. 

He had never been more miserable than he is right now. 

There you are, pressing yourself against Eddie as you play with his hair, looking happier than ever. 

Eddie, who wraps his arm around your waist and looks down at you like you are the most precious thing in this world. 

Steve’s eyes are filled with nothing but sadness. He doesn’t even have the power to feel jealous anymore. 

“Hey Steve!” 

Shit. 

All eyes are now on him, including yours and Eddie’s. 

Steve tears his eyes away from you and turns to look at Jonathan who is walking towards him with his camera. By the look in his eyes, Steve can tell that he wants to do anything but talk to him. 

“Uh – it’s good that you’re here,” Jonathan mumbles, holding the camera up, “Principle Higgins asked for a picture of you and y/n.” 

Steve’s brows furrow and confusion takes over his face, “me and y/n?” He asks, “why?”

Jonathan shrugs, refraining from rolling his eyes, “cause you’re the captain of the basketball team and she’s cheer captain.” 

“Oh.” 

Jonathan looks away from Steve, glancing in your direction, waving you over. 

You look just as confused as Steve does but you make your way over to them nonetheless. 

“Hi,” you mumble to Steve before your eyes find Jonathan who stands between you two, awkwardly. 

“Hey,” Steve smiles at you. 

“Principle Higgins wants a picture of you two together,” Jonathan explains to you, “cause you’re both Captains.” 

You raise your brows, “uh okay,” you snort, “what does the cheer captain have to do with–” 

“Don’t ask me, y/n,” Jonathan chuckles as he motions for you both to follow him, “I’m just as confused.” 

“That’s weird,” you mumble, glancing at Steve who’s awfully quiet. 

“Let’s do it in front of the banners,” Jonathan looks over his shoulder, giving you a small smile but avoiding Steve’s eyes – you notice it. 

Does he feel guilty about kissing his girlfriend? You saw them together yesterday, Nancy and Jonathan. They didn’t even bother to hide their affection. They kissed in the parking lot in front of everyone to see. All they got were a few weird looks, no one seemed to pay much attention to them – no one except for you. You stood frozen in place, a mix of confusion and anger rushing through you. 

Despite the things that Steve had done to you, he still didn’t deserve that. 

You didn’t know whether you should tell him or not, by the sullen look in his eyes, you can tell that he already knows. 

“Alright, just uh–” Jonathan waves his hand at you and Steve, looking around awkwardly, “scoot a little closer.” 

You don’t have to look around the gym to see all the eyes on you, you can feel them and you can hear the hushed whispers.

Steve ignores them but he can’t help but take a look at Eddie who is still standing in the same spot as before. He watches you. 

You step closer to Steve, when he lifts his arm up for you. You place your hand on his back and he places his hand on your waist. Steve looks away from Eddie when the latter looks down. 

Jonathan looks through his camera, squinting his eyes as he motions with his hand, “a little closer, y/n.” 

Steve feels your body closer against his, your hand slides down to his waist, your touch fills him with a warmth that he hasn’t felt in a long time, it makes his heart beat a little faster, it fills him with life. 

If a simple touch of your hand can make him feel such things, he wonders what a kiss from you would cause. 

For a moment, he forgets about his surroundings and what he is supposed to be doing. The sound of chatter, whispers and giggles fly by him. His attention is on you and he basks in the feeling of being so close to you, of feeling your touch, of being able to look at you – not from afar but from such a close distance. 

After a few snaps, Jonathan pulls back to look at the pictures he just took, he furrows his brows and glances up at the two of you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, not pulling away from Steve just yet, “do I look okay?” 

Jonathan huffs with a soft chuckle, “yeah, you look good but uh, Steve? You’re supposed to look into the camera,” he says awkwardly. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when you look up to see him staring at you – now with a blush on his cheeks. Oh. He wasn’t looking into the camera because he was too busy looking at you. 

He closes his eyes, furrowing his brows, “right.” 

You can’t help but smile to yourself – a flustered Steve is not something you will ever get used to. 

“Alright,” Jonathan mumbles after snapping a few more pictures, “I got it now.”

He looks up from his camera, giving Steve a tight lipped smile, “thanks Steve, you can go now,” he says before he steps away himself. 

You feel the hesitation in his touch before he lets go of you, stepping away slowly.

“Alright uh, I’m gonna,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he points to the entrance. 

“Yeah,” you whisper but you hesitate as well and you find yourself looking into his eyes again. 

The sadness has taken over. 

You know that he knows about Nancy and Jonathan. 

Why is he still with her? 

Why is he still with her after everything he said to you? 

Why is he still with her when she is seeing someone else? 

He gives you a halfhearted smile before he turns away but you stop him, reaching for his hand before he can take the first step away from you. You grip it tightly, unaware of the feeling in his heart that you had caused with yet another simple touch. 

He looks down at your hand only to notice another, new ring adorning your hand. A skull ring on your ring finger – he doesn’t know why such a small item can cause him so much despair. He doesn’t have to ask to know where or who you had gotten it from. 

“Are you okay?” 

The softness in your voice matches the one in your eyes, it makes him want to cry. 

How could he ever be okay without you in his life? 

Now that he had finally dropped the act and let go of a fake love, he had nothing to hold onto anymore. 

He lost his best friend, he lost the love of his life, he lost the one. All because he was an insecure coward. 

The past few weeks have shown him how much he had truly ruined, how alone he really is without you in his life. 

He needed to lose you to realize that you are all he ever wanted. 

He doesn’t need a bunch of friends who don’t even care about him nor does he need girls chasing after him or the popularity that he no longer has or even wants. 

You, he only wants you. 

But he won’t fight for someone who he doesn’t deserve to have.  

You look at him with worry in your eyes as you wait for him to answer your question. 

No. No, he is not okay. 

He has never felt more lost in his life than he does at this moment. 

The emptiness in his chest is eating at him and he doesn’t know how to keep going when every day feels like hell.

Every night he stares at the bottles of expensive whiskey in his dad’s office, contemplating whether or not he should just drink until he no longer feels anything. Deep down he knows that the whiskey would just make everything so much worse. 

Maybe it would lead him back to you, maybe it would lead him to the phone on his nightstand, maybe he would make the mistake of calling or even seeing you only to beg for another chance – which would only end in heartbreak. 

You won’t take him back.

Steve will forever hate himself for losing you. 

“Yeah,” he says, forcing a smile on his face, “I’m okay.” 

And for a moment, it isn’t a lie. For a moment, he does feel okay when he still feels your hand in his, when he sees the worry and the softness in your beautiful eyes and the necklace around your neck, the locket that he gave you. You are wearing it. And that alone is enough for his heart to flutter and for the emptiness in his chest to disappear – even if only temporary. 

He avoids your eyes and that proves to you that he isn’t okay but just like he never pressured you, you don’t do it either. 

“A-Are you going to college?” You ask, not wanting him to go so soon. 

Your question surprises him, it’s been a long time since you had initiated a conversation. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It doesn’t seem really appealing to me.”

“But you wanted to go to college, Steve.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, tilting his head with a small chuckle.

“That uh, that was our dream. I only wanted to go to college with you.”

His hand is still in yours, his sad eyes are still gazing into yours. 

“You wanted to go to college with me?” Your eyes widen when he nods, “for me?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from you so,” he trails off as he watches the way sadness crosses your features. 

Your heart jumps at his words. 

“That’s uh, that’s funny,” you laugh, “cause I couldn’t stand the thought of being away from you so I always told you that I had this huge college dream when I never even knew what I actually wanted.”

Steve’s brows furrow and his eyes fill with confusion but also with amusement. 

“Really?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah.” 

His eyes crinkle and his smile widens. 

“Wow. We would’ve gone to college together not knowing that it’s something neither of us wanted,” he says, “unless it’s something that you want now?”

“Oh no,” you mumble, “I-I’m not going to college. For now, I’m stuck at the record store which is actually being moved to Starcourt soon.” 

His eyes light up. 

“Oh, the record store is being moved?” 

“Yeah!”

“I guess we’ll keep seeing each other then.” 

While the thought leaves him with excitement, it must leave you with annoyance – at least that’s what he thinks. 

The look on your face is puzzled.

“I got a job at the ice cream parlor,” he clears his throat, “Scoops Ahoy.” 

Suddenly, he feels embarrassed and his cheeks heat up. You used to date a king, a popular guy, the captain of the basketball team with his apparent bright athlete future. 

And now he is just Steve Harrington who barely got his diploma, who threw his athlete future down the drain to work at an ice cream parlor. How humiliating. 

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen, “no way! Scoops Ahoy?” 

“Yeah..”

“Oh my god!” You giggle excitedly. “I’ll be your regular.”

Steve can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm. 

“You did love your ice cream.”

“Yeah, I still do.” 

You are still smiling at him and he can’t help but smile back at you. This almost feels like a dream – standing here with your hand still in his, laughing and smiling with you like the past no longer matters. 

“Y/n!” Chrissy calls for you. 

You tear your eyes away from his and glance over his shoulder. 

Chrissy motions for you to join her and the other cheerleaders – who are all trying to hide the fact that they were just staring at you and Steve. 

“Come on!” She says as she glares at Steve’s back. 

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

Steve’s face falls, though his smile still lingers when you look back at him. You remove your hand from his. 

“So uh, I guess I’ll see you around?” 

He nods, “yeah,” he mumbles. 

You step away from him but this time, he stops you. With a hand on your wrist and your name falling from his lips, he makes you halt in your tracks. 

You look back at him with raised brows. 

His soft eyes make your heart race, his touch makes you feel warm. 

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

He knows you don’t believe it, you never did, no matter how many times he told you these words, you never believed them. 

“The locket looks good on you,” he smiles. 

You place your other hand on your chest, touching the locket, “thanks, I love it.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, watching the interaction between you and Steve. Annoyed at the affection and the smiles you are giving him, she forces herself to look away. 

Steve always finds a way to sneak his way back into your life. He doesn’t deserve you, not after everything that happened. 

She knows that you might never stop loving him but she hopes that your love for him won’t stop you from letting another one in. She narrows her eyes, glancing at the metalhead who is still standing by the door, watching you with an intense look on his face, one that can only be described as jealousy. 

It’s the same look you always wore when you saw Steve with other girls. 

She sighs, shaking her head.

Chrissy might not be a close friend of Eddie’s but she knows that his feelings for you are nowhere near platonic and she knows that what you are feeling might be deeper than that too, though you are still oblivious, too focused on your feelings for your ex boyfriend. 

She hopes that you will let go of them someday. 

-

The first big summer storm hits the town of Hawkins on a Friday afternoon. The rain is falling down harshly from the sky, the wind is howling through the trees, the bright lighting lights up the darkened sky every few seconds as the thunder crashes loudly. 

The streets are empty as the water flushes down the road. 

Of course you had to come to the library today. 

You should’ve come here tomorrow, you should’ve stayed home. 

You tried to leave the library when the storm just started but the librarian, an elderly woman named Margaret, refused to let you leave. She forced a book into your hand and told you to take a seat by the window. 

She didn’t even let you put up a fight. She offered you a cup of coffee and told you to wait out the storm. 

It’s been an hour but the storm is still raging and you are becoming restless. You hate being stuck in public places.

You take the book that she gave you and leave the table, giving her a tight lipped smile as you pass by the counter. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to sneak out,” you whisper to her when she gives you a pointed look. 

“You better not, young lady,” she says with a mean voice but her eyes are kind. 

You chuckle at her, flashing her a smile before you disappear into the aisle where the shelves are filled with nothing but dramatic romances and sad love stories – your favorites. 

The smell of paper and coffee, the sound of rain and thunder fills you with a nostalgic feeling. You love these types of afternoons, sitting down with a book you love, listening to the rain paddling down the windows after you light up your favorite candle and drinking a hot cup of coffee – too bad you did not stay at home, you could have done just that. 

As you walk down the aisle and you trace the books, trying to find one that calls for you, you don’t find a story that you would love to read, instead, you find the girl that has been the cause of a lot of pain in your life. 

You halt in your tracks when you find her sitting in the little nook by the window. A large book resting on her lap. 

You don’t know why you freeze, why you don’t just walk away, why you keep standing there like a fool as you stare at the girl that stole your boyfriend – ex boyfriend. 

She glances up from her book when she feels your eyes on her.

For a moment, she freezes too and stares back at you. 

What are you doing? Just walk away. The angel on your shoulder whispers, trying to save you from the awkwardness of this situation. 

No. Confront her. Tell her what you saw.

You were never one to let the devil win. You were always a good, obedient girl. Always listening to the things the good ones whispered to you. Always doing what you were supposed to do. Always being kind and sweet to everyone around you. Always doing the right thing. 

Maybe that is where you went wrong, by doing the apparent right things. 

But you never did what you wanted to do. 

So you let the devil for once – or maybe the devil is actually the angel and the angel that has been whispering all these discouraging words to you, is actually the devil in disguise,  waiting for you to fail, changing your mind about the things that you want.

“Can I help you?” Nancy asks slowly.

You notice that her hair is shorter than it used to be, a few of her curls fall from the clip that is holding her hair together. 

“No,” you shake your head. 

She furrows her brows when you make your way over to her. 

“But there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about.” 

“You wanted to talk to me?” She asks, pointing between the two of you. 

Surprised that you want to talk to her now. 

You nod. 

Nancy can’t help but feel nervous. Despite her dislike for you, she is aware of her wrongs. You have every right to be angry at her – if you are angry at her. 

“I saw you with Jonathan.” 

She tilts her head, eyes straying from you. She looks confused. 

“What?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, the bracelet around your wrist slides down a little. 

“I saw you kissing him.”

“So?” 

“So?” 

Now you feel the anger rushing through you. 

Does she not feel ashamed? 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“I should be the last person to care about this but I still care about him,” you start as you stare into her confused eyes, “what are you doing is disgusting.”

Nancy begins to understand a little but a part of her still leaves her with a big question mark. 

“I shouldn’t be defending him but I know that he is a good person, despite everything,” you murmur the last part with an eye roll, “and I know that he is good to you.” 

Nancy straightens her back, she pushes the book off of her lap and holds her hands up, “okay, uh I’m a little confused.”

“Oh, you’re confused?” You mumble, trying to keep your voice down, “you’re confused about the fact that you are cheating – openly?” 

Technically, you are not wrong. She did cheat but not anymore. 

“I’m not cheating,” she mumbles, “we’re not together anymore.”

Silence fills the space between the two of you. The only sound you both hear is the thunder and the rain outside before you speak up after a long pause. 

“What?” You ask and Nancy realizes that you don’t know. 

How do you not know about the break up? 

How do you not know that he left her? 

She stands up and crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking your pose. 

“Steve broke up with me.” 

You are stunned. These news are something you did not expect. 

“A few weeks ago, actually,” she explains, “when he came back from you.”

Oh. 

He broke up with her, the night before your birthday, after seeing you. 

“I’m not cheating on Steve. Jonathan and I, we’re together.” 

So, the rumors were true, after all. 

They broke up – he broke up with her. 

“Oh.”

Nancy looks you up and down. There you stand, wide eyed, confused and definitely unaware of the break up that happened so long ago. 

“You didn’t… know?” 

You shake your head and you lean your body against the shelf behind you. 

“No, I-I didn’t know.”

You had almost forgotten about the raging storm when a bolt of lightning strikes through the sky and the lights in the library flicker for a few seconds. 

You draw in a long sharp breath and look down. 

Why didn’t he tell you? You wonder. 

Nancy asks herself the same thing. Why did Steve not tell you about the break up? Why didn’t he call you the way he called her after he broke up with you? 

The two of you stand in front of each other, shocked.

And as Nancy takes a closer look at you, as she sees the slight frown, the look in your eyes, the tension in your shoulders, the hand over your heart. She knows. She knows that there is still something. 

You are still processing the news, she can tell by the way your eyes flicker back and forth as though you are trying to piece something together. 

“Wait so.. you heard the rumors and you didn’t… think they were true?” 

Your hair falls in front of your face when you lift your head, you don’t bother to push it away. 

“I– well, I…I saw you two together a lot, so, it was hard to believe the rumors.. you know?” 

Nancy nods in understanding. 

“I get it… Then, the rumors with Eddie are not true?” 

For a moment, you think about her question before you turn your head to look at her with a frown. 

“The one I’m pregnant? The one where he sacrificed a lamb to get my undying love and devotion? The one where I cheated on Steve? Which one of them all?” 

Nancy’s eyes widen. 

She can’t help but snort at all those rumors. Shaking her head with an amused smile, she looks down with furrowed brows, “trust me, even I know Munson looks scary but probably is a fan of Garfield or something,” she chuckles. 

A smile tugs at your lips. 

“He does have Garfield pajamas.”

She looks at you with a stunned expression before you both burst into giggles. 

Nancy shakes her head again as the smile fades away. 

“And no, not the pregnant one either.. Jesus,” she sighs. Her eyes find your body again, she looks you up and down with a look that you cannot read. 

Suddenly, you feel self conscious again. You feel the urge to wrap your arms around your waist, wanting to hide your body. 

But her words aren’t ones that you expected. 

“If you’re pregnant with a body like that, is the baby like smushed to the very back?” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Your eyes widen at her words and you restrain yourself from gasping or holding your hand in front of your mouth or your stomach. 

Nancy had spent so much time feeling jealous of you, of what you had – because at one point, she thought that you had everything. Beauty, popularity, friends and a guy who was hopelessly in love with you. You had it all and when she got a taste of what you had, she wanted it. She wanted him. She painted a false picture of you in her head, to make herself feel better about stealing from you. 

Though, the false picture in her head didn’t stay for long, it started crumbling the moment she walked into the girls bathroom to hear you crying. She knew it was you, the backpack that laid on the ground had a pin of The Cure on the front, one that only you had. 

After that, she began to pay attention to you. 

She saw the way you looked at Steve, weeks, months after he left you. 

She saw the sadness, the heartbreak, the pain in your eyes and the love that never left. 

She saw the way you looked at the other girls and the way you looked at yourself. The way you stayed in the locker room, a little longer than the other girls. 

The way you looked at her and compared yourself to her. 

All because of him. 

“Y-You look amazing is what I’m trying to say,” Nancy says nervously. 

A flush creeps up to your face as you gape at her. 

To hear it from Steve or even Eddie is one thing, to hear it from a girl who bashed on you, who belittled you is a whole other thing. It feels.. good. 

“T-Thank you..”

Nancy clears her throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Desperately wanting to kill the awkward tension, she goes back to your previous question.

“No… The one where you and Eddie are dating.” 

It takes you a moment to realize what she means. Your mouth falls open and recognition dawns your face. 

“No, it’s not true either. None of them are,” you brows knit together, “wait, why did you think it was true?”

There’s amusement in her features as she takes in the sight of your confused face. She shrugs, “you’re always clinging to one another, and you guys literally kiss on the cheek! Like, who does that to a friend? And– you sit on his lap! It’s hard not to think you two have something going on!” 

You press your hands together, laughing awkwardly, “uh, well, that’s how best friends interact,” you say these words with a twinge of pain in your chest but you don’t understand it, the reasoning behind the pain is unclear to you. 

“Trust me, that’s not how best friends interact with each other – or look at each other,” she adds quietly. 

“L-Like what?”

She stares at you in amusement, albeit a little bewildered. 

“You’re a little oblivious, aren’t you?” 

“Oblivious to what?” 

She looks away from you with a small smile, glancing out the window, she pretends to be surprised, “oh, it looks like the storm finally stopped!” She points out. 

The storm had indeed stopped, though the one inside of you, has just begun. 

Nancy reaches for the book on the nook. She grabs her bag and turns back to you, “I gotta go home. Jonathan and my mom must be worried.” 

You follow her with your eyes, staring at her desperately. 

She looks over her shoulder after passing by you, “one piece of advice? Pay attention.” 

And with that, Nancy Wheeler leaves you standing in the empty aisle. 

“What?”

next chapter

-

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @succubusmunson @xxhellfirebunnyxx @trashmouth-richie @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @chrissymjstan

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 [Part 3]

Sometimes you just miss your chance. Sometimes you have to take it.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, former criminal!Jungkook, mentions of past neglect/abuse, reader has some pretty bad psychological problems (OCD, Anxiety, Selective mutism, hints at an eating disorder), hypersomnia, road to recovery, hurt and lots of comfort, angst, Jungkook has some problems with aggression and swears a lot, more TBA in future chapters

Length: I did not count sue me I guess

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: You can have early access to this and other selected fics on my Patreon!

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's not uncommon for him not to see you much during his work. But today, especially considering how close you've gotten to him and how comfortable, it's weird to him that he doesnt see you at all.

"Jungkook.." Hana says, catching his attention as he mops the floor of the lunch area where all hybrids had just eaten a few minutes prior. "Do you have a moment?" she asks, voice soft and kind, though he's guarded, because he knows that soft-tune she puts on.

She's talking to him like she does to the other hybrids.

Something's up.

"Sure." he shrugs, putting the mop to the side before followong her to the side. "What's up? Did I do something?" he wonders, hands in his pockets while he leans against the wall behind him.

"I think you've already noticed that 268- the hybrid you've been spending time with.. She's not here." Hana says, and she doesn't need to say your name to make his eyes harden. Technically you don't have one after all, only your ID number he's able to recite back by pure instinct. He knows that she's talking about you. There's no one else she could mean.

"what about her?" he asks suspiciously, already irritated because deep down, he's got his fears. Maybe you've been adopted. Then he should be happy, right?

Except he isn't.

"She's been transferred..." Hana says, sighing before she crosses her arms in front of her, a clear sign she's going to try and justify that action while also blocking his for sure incoming anger. "...to a correctional facility in Daegu."

"What the fuck?!" he loudly barks out as soon as he hears that, visibly distressed. "Do you know what they fucking do to hybrids in these shitholes?" he demands to know, fists curled tightly as hed pushed himself off the wall vehind him, walking a step towards her. "She's gonna be even more traumatized in there, good fucking job!" he scoffs.

"please, a bit more quiet-" she tries as she notices some hybrids looking. "-she's gonna be fine. They're trained in cases like hers-"

"and if she doesnt comply she will just be sent to another, and another, and a-fucking-nother! Great solution, really!" he barks out, pulling the nametag from around his neck aggressively. "I'm done participating in this bullshit."

"Jungkook-" she tries, but he's already walking.

"I've got a week left of this work and I've not taken any days off." he says grimly, turning around with angry eyes. "I'm taking them now." He growls angrily, leaving the area to go grab his things- when a young man looks at him, then at his nametag Jungkook is taking off in frustration.

"Jeon Jungkook?" The man says, standing next to him dressed in all black, a facemask covering half of his face. He looks sketchy- and has caught Jungkook during the worst time possible.

"What!?" he snarls more or less, before a letter is pushed into his hand, catching him off guard.

"You're being summoned to court." the man says. Jungkook's blood runs cold at that.

"I've done the community service shit, what the hell?" he argues, but almost weakly so- because he knows he's powerless against the legal system. If they believe he needs further, worse punishment, then he'll have to take it.

"Oh they know, it's not about that." the guy says. "Or at least, not entirely. Read it at home. I think you'll be interested in showing up." the guy almost chuckles, cat-like eyes showing his amusement over the situation.

"..huh." Jungkook doesn't say anything else, turning around to go grab his bag.

"Ah, and Jungkook-ssi." the guy calls out, making the younger man roll his eyes as he turns around. "could you borrow me some of your clothes?"

"..the fuck?" he squints his eyes, unsure what this stranger wants with his clothes of all things. "Why would you want my stuff?" He asks, cringing a bit.

"I think anything that's got your scent on it would do. Just bring something when you visit." the man says, handing him a card, and a plastic.. ID, similar to the one he uses to wear at the center right here. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

The card is from the Hybrid Behavioral Therapy Center in Daegu, contact info and location address clearly written down beneath the logo. But it'sthe plastic ID card that makes hus eyes widen, because it clearly spells out;

'Special Clearance Pass: Potential owner for hybrid 268.'

[fionaapplerocks]

The Long and Winding Road That Leads to Fiona Apple

By Tyler Coates 2012-05-31

“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” So goes the oft-quoted line from William Faulkner’s Requiem for a Nun. Time is circular, and our relationship with our own personal histories is ever changing. This is a concept with which the enigmatic Fiona Apple is deeply familiar.

The 34-year-old singer-songwriter is about to release her fourth album—the first in seven years—aptly titled The Idler Wheel is wiser than the Driver of the Screw, and Whipping Cords will serve you more than Ropes will ever do. The spinning wheel of time cranks back and forth for Apple, who continues to re-examine her past while trying to keep up with the present. Like most artists, however, Apple finds that her fans cherish the past more than she does.

In 2000, a 16-year-old fan named Bill Magee approached Apple after a show in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania with a request: he told her he was a member of his high school’s gay-straight alliance and hoped that Apple could write a few words of support. “[I] was much more interested in interacting with a celebrity than building an alliance between gays and straights,” he admitted on his blog 12 years later where he posted a scanned image of the letter he received less than a week after requesting her response.

Apple wrote: “All I know is I want my friends to be good people, and when my friends fall in love, I want them to fall in love with other good people. How can you go wrong with two people in love? If a good boy loves a good girl, good. If a good boy loves another good boy, good. And if a good girl loves the goodness in good boys and good girls, then all you have is more goodness, and goodness has nothing to do with sexual orientation.”

“My brother was the one who told me about it,” Apple tells me just weeks after Magee posted the letter on his Tumblr, which was then picked up by various sites like Jezebel and Pitchfork. “I was like, ‘A letter I wrote to someone when I was 22 has made its way online?’ That’s the scariest thing I could possibly hear in my life. And the subject matter was so important—I know how I’ve always felt so I knew it wasn’t going to be a bad letter, but I was like, ‘What did I say?!’”

The letter’s sudden popularity online is indicative of how much has changed since Apple released her debut album, Tidal, in 1996.

For starters, she was then a 19-year-old singer-songwriter signed to a major record label and churning out emotional and dark odes at a time when her contemporaries were singing bubblegum-pop love songs.

She made headlines after appearing in the video for “Criminal.” Shot in a seedy apartment, the video featured a scantily clad and emaciated Apple, sparking criticisms of the exploitive quality of the images (and suggesting that she had an eating disorder). In 1997, when accepting her award for Best New Artist at the MTV Video Music Awards, Apple infamously shouted into the microphone, “This world is bullshit, and you shouldn’t model your life on what we think is cool, and what we’re wearing and what we’re saying.”

While the speech was replayed and parodied on TV for years following, Apple was lucky enough to have said those words before the days of blogging and YouTube; had she given the speech 15 years later, it may have turned into a career-damaging viral video and sparked a few thousand snarky tweets.

She also has the luxury of being a successful artist who doesn’t need to promote herself online. “They want me to tweet now, but I don’t,” Apple tells me of her label reps. “It doesn’t feel natural to me. But I do find it actually more interesting to see people posting ridiculously mundane shit. I like to hear about what people had for breakfast or what they did all day. It’s interesting because I don’t know how other people live.”

While Apple is hardly a recluse, she’s made few public appearances in the seven years since the release of her third album, Extraordinary Machine. The excitement following the announcement by Epic Records of the late-June release of The Idler Wheel speaks to the loyalty of her fan base. (And as for that long-winded title, it’s a callback to the much-maligned 90-word title of her acclaimed sophomore effort, universally shortened to When the Pawn…)

The Idler Wheel does not deviate from the familiar sounds of Apple’s earlier records; the songs are still layered with complex instrumentation, and her reverberant voice still takes center stage in each tune.

The album was produced nearly in secret over the last few years—a surprising move from an established artist with the resources of a major label at her disposal. But Apple explains that her experience with the label system is what allowed her to feel free to work on her own. “It was very casual, and I wasn’t fully admitting that I was making an album,” she says. “I got to use the time in the studio to inspire me to finish other things rather than feel like I was finishing homework to hand in. It wasn’t a lot of pressure. And the record company didn’t know I was doing it, so nobody was looking over my shoulder.”

Most might take that mentality as a reaction to the restrictions of her record label, especially after the drama surrounding the release of Extraordinary Machine. After collaborating with Jon Brion (who produced When the Pawn) to create an early version of the third album in 2002, Apple then decided to rework all but two of the songs with producer Mike Elizondo.

The original version of the album leaked online, and Brion suggested in interviews that Apple’s label had rejected the demo and forced her to rerecord the songs (a claim that Apple later denied). Still, it incited an uproar among her fans. An online-based movement called Free Fiona organized demonstrations outside of the Sony headquarters in New York, and protestors sent apples to the label’s executives.

The final version of the album was released in 2005 and received positive reviews and earned Apple a Grammy nomination. “I ran into the guy who started Free Fiona after a show in Chicago,” she tells me. “He apologized to me! They didn’t get the story quite right, but they did help me get my album out. I felt so bad that he had spent all this time thinking I was pissed at him—I had a physical urge to get down on the floor and kiss his shoes!”

It’s an intense reaction (she admits she didn’t bow to her fan because “it would be weird if I did that”), but Apple is still a very intense person. Dressed in a flowing skirt paired with several layers of spaghetti-strapped tank tops that reveal her slender frame (which seems healthier than in her early days, giving the impression that she must spend most of her downtime on a yoga mat), Apple fidgets in her seat during our conversation, often giving off an infectious giggle.

But she is surprisingly comfortable to talk to, not much like the somber young woman who sang of heartbreak and disappointment. “I don’t think I’ll ever have an idea of what I look like to the rest of the world,” she replies when I ask if she ever worries that her lyrics, which are sometimes in stark contrast to the up-tempo, progressive sounds of her songs’ instrumentations, give off the wrong impression of her personality. “It’s all your own perception. I could easily be concerned with how I’m taken and then have all the good stuff filtered through to me and choose to believe that. For the rest of my life it’d be the truth for me, but not the whole truth.”

Born Fiona Apple McAfee Maggart in New York City to Brandon Maggart and Diane McAfee, Apple’s musical destiny was settled at birth. The McAfee-Maggarts are, while not reaching Barrymore-level name recognition, an entertainment family; Apple’s father was nominated for a Tony for his performance in the Broadway musical Applause, both her mother and sister are singers, and her half-brothers work in the film industry—one an actor and the other a director.

She’s a third-generation performer, as her grandmother was a dancer in musical revues and her grandfather a Big Band-era musician. While Apple’s auspicious introduction to the pop world had critics calling her a prodigy, she crafted her early songs as a cathartic necessity. (“Sullen Girl” from Tidal, in particular, is about her rape at the age of 12.) “Over the years it’s transferred more into a craft,” she says. “I use myself as material because that’s what I’ve got. But these days I write less than half of my songs to get myself through things. I have to find other things to be meaningful— otherwise I’d just be miserable all the time.”

Her songs are still extremely autobiographical, which is perhaps their charm. Following in the footsteps of other singer-songwriters, especially women who emerged in the early ’90s and expressed their emotions in particularly vulnerable ways, Apple’s openness has always had an empowering appeal. Her songs seem to suggest that feeling a variety of emotions—sadness, glee, despair, insanity—is not only normal, but, like those self-reflective musicians before her, she also gives permission to her listeners to feel the same way.

Even for Apple, her older songs are relics of another time, and she now makes them applicable to her life in the present. “They all kind of become poems after a while,” she says. “You can take your own meaning out of them. It’s been a very long time [since my first albums], and I can apply those songs to other situations that are more current in my life.” She admits she has changed greatly since she started writing songs in her late teenage years, especially when it comes to how she portrays herself. “I don’t feel comfortable singing the songs that I wrote. I used to blame other people and not take responsibility. I thought I was a total victim trying to look strong.”

And she is much harder on herself in the songs on The Idler Wheel than she ever was before. Sure, she admitted to being “careless with a delicate man” in ��Criminal,” arguably her most famous song, and in When the Pawn’s “Mistake” she sang, “Do I wanna do right, of course but / Do I really wanna feel I’m forced to / Answer you, hell no.”

On The Idler Wheel, Apple examines her own solitude and neuroses as well as their effect on her relationships with others. “I can love the same man, in the same bed, in the same city,” she sings on “Left Alone,” “But not in the same room, it’s a pity.” On “Jonathan,” a somber love song layered with robotic, mechanical sounds that’s presumably about her ex-boyfriend, author and Bored to Death creator Jonathan Ames, she urges, “Don’t make me explain / Just tolerate my little fist / Tugging at your forest-chest / I don’t want to talk about anything.”

But performing, as a central requirement of her career, still takes precedence. “Some nights I’m very, very nervous, and some nights I’m not at all,” she tells me. “I think, ‘This is ridiculous. I’m not a person who does a show, I’m a person who should be on a couch watching TV.’ But then it’s like I get knocked into another state of consciousness, and then I’m left behind, and the person that’s doing the show is there and there’s nothing else in the world existing other than the note she’s singing. It’s such a joy to do, but I forget about it until I’m on the stage.”

Apple has lived in los Angeles since Tidal’s release in 1996, although she admits that she’s “not an L.A. girl.” “I was supposed to stay in New York,” she tells me. “I remember being 17 and asking if I could record in New York. How did I end up here? It’s 15 years later… How did that happen?” Apple doesn’t seem to process time like other people. When I ask when she began recording The Idler Wheel and when she knew it was ready, she has a complicated answer. “It must have started in 2008. Or 2009. I don’t know! I have no idea. It’s weird to think that there was 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011.” Her big blue eyes suddenly look to her right as she furrows her brow. “Where’ve I been? What was I doing? What was that year about?”

Maybe the solitary nature of living in L.A. contributes to her aloof tendencies. “I’m not a social creature,” she says, “I don’t go to parties all the time because I’d probably just wonder why I’m there in the first place.” Her preference for being alone may also stem from the kind of personal criticisms that people tend to throw at female musicians. “I’ve gotten so used to being misunderstood. Nobody’s ever really said anything bad about my music, but when I’ve had albums come out there are always people making fun of me. ‘Oh, she’s back?’” She didn’t even expect the comments (mostly online) when the full title of The Idler Wheel was announced. “I didn’t stop to think that anyone would call it ridiculous, but people did. I thought, ‘Ahhh. My old friends.’ I’m not sure what’s ridiculous about it, but that’s what they’ve got to say.”

I cautiously mention the infamous acceptance speech from the VMAs, a moment early in her career that defined the public persona of Fiona Apple as an angry, ungracious woman. “I’ve never been ashamed of that,” she replies immediately. It was the first moment, she says, in which she felt like she could speak up—to break free from the shyness that defined her childhood and early teenage years. “I genuinely, naïvely thought that I was going to put out a record and that was going to make me have friends. I expected to give it to people and they would understand me; no one would say to me, ‘We don’t want to be your friend because you’re too intense or too sad all the time.’” It wasn’t necessarily the case.

“Do you still think the world is bullshit?” I ask when we talk about the VMAs. She laughs. “It’s not the world!” she exclaims. “Of course people think that ‘the world’ is the whole world. I felt that I had finally gotten into the popular crowd, and I thought, ‘Is this what I’ve been doing this for?’ I felt like I was back in the cafeteria in high school and still couldn’t speak up for myself.”

These days, Apple spends more time focusing on her own art rather than the reactions to it. With age has come calm and decreasing desire to pay attention to her detractors. “I’ve decided it takes too much energy to try to avoid it,” she tells me, brushing aside her freshly dyed crimson hair. “I’m not going to hide from the world.”

Source Archive.org:

https://web.archive.org/web/20120603033544/http://www.blackbookmag.com/music/the-long-and-winding-road-that-leads-to-fiona-apple-1.49114

[dckweed]

here's part two of jake and babygirl, i'm actually really really in love with them and it may or may not be because i constantly have baby fever. anyway, im thinking about making this a fun lil series that you guys can send in any prompts or requests for that come to mind ! silly, angsty, fluffy whatever doesn't matter, just figured that since this started off as a request that i could continue on its life that way as well..

i want to be completely honest with you guys, for the past two months now i have been in eating disorder treatment 3 hours a day 6 days a week..as of this week, ive been stepped down to 3 hours a day 4 days a week and will be completely stepping down from treatment by the end of the month..this has taken up alot of time, and alot of attention and typically by the time my day is over i am completely spent and mentally drained and haven't been putting much effort into you guys, but as part of my treatment i am going to start posting at least twice a week (if not every day) as a way of self care, because fic writing is genuinely a form of self care for me.

thank you for being patient with me, and please feel free to send in asks!

warnings: pregnancy! jake being completely soft for his babygirl but also being completely angered by her situation..morning sickness mentions, food aversion mentions, just floofy fluffness okay? use of y/n once, but other than that is just babygirl as usual. not super long but i love it. part one

'STAY WITH ME, PLEASE..' jake 'hangman' seresin

A week into your vacation Jake had convinced you to go to an obstetrician after learning that you hadn't seen one yet, concerned for your health and the health of the little thing in your womb, whom he was already attached to, even if it wasn't his. It was there that you learned that you were almost eleven weeks along, Jake sat in the room with you, holding your hand as the ultrasound tech dims the lights. He squeezes it as she squirts more warm jelly on your tummy than you thought necessary and digs the wand in at an uncomfortable angle, moving it and the gel around your skin. You were just barely showing signs of a baby bump, and you were shocked to find out just how big the baby actually was by this point.

"How is it already that big?" Jake asks exactly what you were thinking, making the tech chuckle. He was in complete awe, there was really a tiny little being inside of you, you were growing a life form and there was nothing more beautiful than that to him in that moment.

"They grow so much faster than you realize," The woman says, a pleasant smile on her face as she stares at the screen, typing a few things in with her free hand, Jake noted from his position that they were measurements. "Would you like to know the sex?"

"Yes!" He blurts out before you could even process the question, you stare at him eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why he was so eager and amazed by something that he hadn't helped create. You thought it was wonderful though that your best friend was wanting to be so involved and caring despite your situation.

"Well, dad, you're having a little girl.." She says, catching you off guard by the mention of Jake being the dad and by the fact that you were having a daughter. Jake squeezed your hand, and even in the darkness of the room you could have sworn that he was a little teary eyed.

"Isn't that amazing, babygirl?" He asks, looking over at you. Your eyes are glued to the screen, not bothering to correct the woman on Jake not being the father, it was a difficult situation to explain and you weren't quite sure you were up for it today. Tears form in your eyes as you think about the little girl growing in your womb, who would never know her daddy. You had to admit that that was probably a good thing, he didn't deserve either of you if his initial reaction was to just leave and never come back.

You knew Jake felt the same way too, you didn't even have to ask.

"This all feels like such a fever dream.." You say softly, your head leaned against the window of his truck as he drives through the streets, away from the obstetricians office. You had a print out photo of your baby in your hand, staring down at it as you rubbed your stomach absentmindedly, your mind running in circles.

"Why's that?" Jake asks, glancing over at you for a mere second, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long.

You look at him, wondering if he realizes just how fucked up the situation is. "Jake, I am pregnant..my boyfriend, the father of my baby left me because he swore i was a whore and that you were actually the father, and that was before i even knew for sure that i was pregnant.." You say, word vomit spewing from your mouth before your brain could even process what was happening. "I've just found out that i'm having a little girl who's not going to have her daddy in her life, and honestly good riddance but..but..oh my god Jake what am I going to do? This wasn't part of the plan..my daddy is going to be so disappointed in me..oh my god my mama would be so fucking upset..."

You hadn't even realized that you were crying, or that you were starting to panic, the weight of the situation fully sinking in on you. "Oh my god Jake, she's never gonna meet my mama..oh my god.." Jake doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't let you keep crying like this. He pull's over into a parking lot, right at the beach and near a bunch of shops, pulling his truck to a stop in the first empty spot he saw. There are tears streaming down your face at this point as the thoughts of your father and your dead mother run around in your head, he had never seen you like this before but he knew that it was probably just the hormones.

"Hey," He says, his voice soft and sweet, his warm body encompassing yours as he slides across the front seat towards you, having lifted the center console up. He unclips your seatbelt and pulls you towards him, holding your head against his chest, your ear pressed right where his heart is. He had done this with you a thousand times before, the sound of his heartbeat had always brought you back to earth when you would have moments like this. "you're okay, i got you babygirl, i always got you.." He whispers, his lips moving in your hair as he presses a soft, comforting kiss to the crown of your head. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wondered if he knew that these were the things that made you feel like he loved you in more ways than he let on, the things that gave you the smallest glimmer of hope.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat and the slight rumble in his chest as he whispered things to you, slowly but surely calming you down. After a while you let out a shaky breath, your eyes opening to see the people milling about the small shopping center. "Where are we?" You ask, voice thick from the crying. Your head hurt and your eyes were heavy, you wanted to go back to his apartment and sleep, preferably in his arms, like you used to when you guys were younger.

"We're not too far from home," He says. Home..You liked the way that sounded coming from his mouth, it was always nice to hear it. "Do you want to get out and walk around? Go sit on the beach." You shake your head, sniffling softly. He kisses the top of your head once more, rubs your shoulder with his large hand. "Okay babygirl, let's go home..you look like you need some rest." He wasn't wrong, between the morning sickness that had been plaguing you in recent days, and the stress of everything, you hadn't been getting enough rest.

You manage to stay awake for the rest of the ride back, letting the gentle breeze through the open window soothe you. Jake doesn't say a word, but you see a look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking really hard about something. "Jake?" You ask, turning to face him, wondering what was on his mind.

"Stay." He says, looking over at you as he pulls up to his apartment building, the truck rolling to a stop. "..I..You should be here with me, you should've been with me from the beginning, but I was too chickenshit to man up and ask." You're shocked, and start to open your mouth, wanting to stop him. "Let me finish, damn it!"

"I haven't gone a day without talkng to you or thinking about you since the day I met you, and it's not just because you were my best friend, because you always will be that, no matter what, it's because i've been in fucking love with you since day one. And maybe i'm dumb because it's taken me so long to realize it, because everyone i've ever dated knew it but dammit i know it now, and have for a long time.." He rambles, you're unsure of what to make of this, your brain still processing that you were hearing him correctly. "I..know that this isn't the ideal situation, and i know that that little girl isn't my blood, but dammit i don't care because i already think of her as my kid, and i have since i found out..I can't let you walk away, not without knowing how i feel..I want to be with you through this, and through everything else in life so i can take care of you the way that you deserve, because Y/N, nobody else in this world is ever going to love you like i do.." You feel yours well with tears and subconsciously you pinch yourself, hoping to god that you weren't dreaming. "So stay with me, please.."

"Oh, Jake.." You whisper, tears spilling once more from your eyes. You can't make any other words come out of your mouth so you just nod your head and you watch his body sag with relief before you unbuckle your seatbelt and rush forward into his already waiting arms. He squeezes you tight and presses a long kiss to the top of your head as you hiccup.

"Hey, no more tears, babygirl, okay?" He whispers, leaning your head back as he brushes the tears away with his thumb, you lean into the embrace, a smile gracing your lips as your arms go around the back of his neck.

"They're happy tears, i promise.." You say, leaning forward to press your lips against his. You had though about this moment so many times in your life, and none of your wildest dreams had every prepared your for the real thing. Jake kissed you like a man starved, his hand on the back of your head, fingers scrunching up in your hair as he presses you as hard against him as he can. You groan at the possessiveness of it, pulling back after a moment to catch your breath. You can't help but let out a chuckle, leaning your forehead against his. "You picked one hell of a time to finally fucking say it, Seresin."

"Hey! You could've said it first too you know!" He says and you can't help but laugh, relishing in the way he smiles at you.

Jake & Babygirl taglist: @bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mayhemmanaged

[triforce-of-mischief]

@ailesswhumptober day 24: Deconditioning

Summary: Amidst gossipy civilians who don't care for nuance, Ravio wishes that his body wasn't a visible reminder of the past he can't seem to break away from.

Contents: references to past famine, eating disorder, weight issues, body shaming

Words: 1400

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing.

Ravio couldn’t help it, even after all this time; he heard the pantry open and his ears perked up, instantly alert. He ran through his mental list of reassurances before he panicked over such a little thing.

Link is home. The house is secure. Sheerow would warn me if there was a thief. It’s not mealtime yet. Link must be hungry for a snack. We have enough that he can eat and we will have food later.

That made him feel better, enough that he was calm as he stood from his desk. Ravio wasn’t hungry, he never was before dinner, but he liked to see what Link had grabbed from their stores. It was an anxious habit, one that was older than his practice with keeping inventory of his shop, and Link understood by now. When Ravio came up beside him, Link simply held out a handful of cookies for Ravio to see.

“How many is that?” Ravio asked, and counted them. There were three cookies, and he tried not to let the worry show on his face. “Three- there were three left, right?”

“Yeah, I’m finishing them,” Link said. He opened the jar, angling it so Ravio could see that there were only crumbs inside. “Did you want one?” He offered one, but Ravio shook his head.

“No, I just-” Ravio wrung his hands, knowing how stupid he would sound. “We won’t have any left.”

“They’re going to be stale soon,” Link pointed out. “We can always make more.”

“What if we don’t have the ingredients? Or the time?”

“Then we can buy some from the bakery.”

“If we’re low on rupees?”

“Ravi, when are we ever low on rupees?” Link was starting to frown at him, and Ravio hastily backed up.

“I- you know what, it’s fine, actually. Enjoy the cookies,” he said quickly, and turned on his heel.

Link knew what to expect from him, but that didn’t mean he was aware of the irrational terror that Ravio felt every time some of their food ran empty. He gave his hero reason to worry enough, and he tried to keep it that way. Link didn’t mention it again, or food at all until he asked Ravio if he wanted to visit the Milk Bar that night.

Ravio didn’t see any harm in it. He liked socializing, and odd eating habits were easier to overlook in public. The bar was busy, and the two navigated bustle and chatter to order their drinks and find a table between a pair of similarly mismatched groups. A party of Hyrulians were opposite one of Lorulians, and both conversations could easily be heard from where Ravio sat in the middle.

“It’s disgusting, really,” said a Hyrulian woman with a wave of her hand. “Our hero revives their land and how do they thank him? By gorging themselves on their newfound harvests without a care for their health or their appearance.”

“It’s a repeat of what happened with the Zora queen,” her friend agreed. “She lost her restraint, and with it, her beauty.”

“I heard that the Zora, at least, has a magical scale that keeps her size in check!” the first woman chortled. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on one of those!”

Ravio felt heat rush to his ears, a telltale sign of slowly rising anger. He had known for a while now that Hyrulians were a bit vain about their weight. It was the fashion to stay skinny; rounder bodies were mercilessly mocked for no real reason. Link, with his small stature and lithe, slightly muscular frame, seemed blissfully oblivious to the twittering. Ravio, on the other hand, was painfully aware of the difference in the way that he was treated compared to his fellow Lorulians.

The Hyrulian women were correct, in one regard. With the loss of the Triforce came years of famine, insecurity, hoarding… Until recently, most Lorulians had reflected the lack of reliable sustenence. Even Ravio and Hilda, living in the castle, weren’t spared the hardships of a barren land. His princess, for so long, had resembled a ghost of her possible self, gaunt and frail, and Ravio wasn’t any better. With the return of their sun, and food, most Lorulians lived much happier, healthier lives. They were proud to maintain their gained weight, a symbol that they had made it, they had survived, and they were free to eat their fill and know that there would be plenty tomorrow.

“This place still gives me a weird feeling,” a Lorulian stranger muttered from behind Ravio. “These freaks recreate our famine in an attempt to look fragile and say that we’re the ugly ones.”

“Even the few who think they can act better have the most backhanded insults masquerading as compliments,” another chimed in. “Give them a taste of their own medicine, I say. Take that twig in purple, over there. He’s so adorably brittle, I could snap his arms in two.”

Ravio’s hands- his fragile, skeletal fingers- tightened around his cup. He hated this. He hated knowing that he looked like he didn’t belong. He hated the assumption that he liked having something wrong with him.

“Link,” Ravio said quietly. “I’m going home.”

“What? But we haven’t-” Link started to protest, but Ravio had already pushed his chair back. He pulled his baggy sleeves over his hands, tugging his hood down to hide his face.

Link caught up to him before he left Kakariko, walking silently back to their house. Ravio paused just inside the front door, and Link guessed why.

“You haven’t eaten enough today, have you?” Link asked.

Ravio almost brushed it off. He knew that he hadn’t, but he wasn’t hungry- but as soon as the thought entered his head, he realized that he was. It hit him all at once and he nodded, trying not to look desperate.

“C’mon, we have plenty of cheese,” Link said, and Ravio followed him to the kitchen. Link handed him some cheese and Ravio took it, his hands shaking as he took a bite. Link brought him some bread, too, and an apple, and Ravio tried to pace himself though he felt like he might faint from hunger. He was satisfied before long and he pushed Link’s next offer away, pretending not to notice his unhappy frown. Ravio was aware that he hadn’t eaten enough for somebody who had inadvertently starved himself all day, but if he ate any more he was going to be sick.

Ravio went to lay down and Link trailed behind, sprawling on the bed beside him. Link’s hand found his and he intertwined their fingers, tracing his thumb over Ravio’s skin. Ravio tried not to squirm under the attention but Link noticed and fell still.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Link whispered.

Ravio was silent for a moment, then relented. “Why does everyone think I want to be like this? I don’t care about being skinny, and I’m not afraid of gaining weight. In fact, I want to. But I can’t. I have to convince myself that I haven’t made a grave mistake every time I eat. If I try to force myself to eat more, I’ll lose it before it does any good. I barely eat enough to get by and it’s not my choice but I don’t know how to do better. If I could adapt like the rest of Lorule and feel safe enough to eat what and when I want, I would do it in a heartbeat. I don’t have anyone who’s willing to help me- Lorulians see my very existence as proof that I hate their bodies, and Hyrulians refuse to believe that I want to change mine. I thought everything would be easier once we fixed our Triforce, but- but it’s not. It’s not for me.”

Link rolled over to face Ravio, still holding his hand. “I care. Ravio, I care so much, and I want you to know that you can talk to me about this- about anything. You grew up in a horrible situation, and it’s okay if it takes time to trust again. I want to help you stay healthy.”

“I- thank you, Link.” Ravio snuggled closer, resting his head on Link’s arm. “I wish I knew where to start. It’s not fair to ask you to help when I don’t know what needs to be done.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know,” Link said. “We don’t need to rush. You can take your time.”

[katy-133]

Rick Sanchez Showing Signs of ASD for 30 Images

(Re-posting this from a previous reblog I posted in. For organisational purposes.)

(Using some notes from CDC.gov and NHS.uk)

“People with [autism spectrum disorder (ASD)] often have problems with social communication and interaction, and restricted or repetitive behaviors or interests. People with ASD may also have different ways of learning, moving, or paying attention. It is important to note that some people without ASD might also have some of these symptoms.” - Signs and Symptoms of Autism Spectrum Disorder, CDC.gov

Similar to the above quote, some of the below examples can be explained through Doylist (meta) explanations (for example, Rick usually wears the same clothes because that's a common trope in animation, due to asset limitations and marketing/merchandise reasons).

With that in mind:

Bad sensory, overstimulation: Rick preferring to eat just noodles (possibly due to texture/taste aversion), instead of having what everyone else in the family is having.

Getting very upset if someone touches or gets too close: Rick pushing Morty away when Morty runs up to hug him.

Stimming (repetitive performance of certain physical movements or vocalisations) by moving his fists in a celebratory shaking motion in multiple episodes.

Gets upset by minor changes. Rick getting mad at Morty for changing the position of his car seat, refusing to leave a dangerous situation until it's re-adjusted.

Rick: "Wait, did you f**k with my seat settings?!"

Having the same routine every day and getting very anxious if it changes: Rick being upset that Morty is busy and can't go on an adventure with him (like in a typical episode).

Gastrointestinal issues (for example, constipation). An episode focuses on Rick needing to go to a custom planet (that felt safe and secluded) to use the toilet and feeling great distress upon learning that someone else found the planet.

Has a safe food that is seeked out for comfort. Rick likes wafers. He's seen getting them from the kitchen in multiple episodes, Beth makes sure the house is stocked with them, and the Citadel of Ricks even has its own factory to produce them.

Referencing good sensory: Rick talking in detail about pancakes covered in syrup, not wanting the pancakes to go bad.

Rick: "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them. They're about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste. And I hate to get all Andy Rooney about it, but I think we all like fluffy discs of cake with syrup on top!"

And Rick enjoying pancakes in S1E10 and S4E2:

Has obsessive interests. Rick becoming hyper-focused on giant mecha collecting and Morty reminding him to not go overboard on his new hyperfixation.

Morty: "Sometimes, enough is... ?" Rick: (Sadly) "Sometimes enough is enough."

Liking to plan things carefully before doing them: Rick keeping various helpful inventions in his lab coat just in case he needs them later (Vindicators episode).

Infodumping (to excitedly share a large amount of information about a highly-focused subject or passion at one time, usually in great detail and length).

Finding it hard to talk about feelings: Rick having hesitation in apologising and explaining his thoughts and feelings to Jerry.

Rick: "If I'm genuinely cool, I should be able to love you. Which I... therefore do."

Avoids or does not keep eye contact: Rick looking away or breaking eye contact with Morty. Image set of Morty calling him out:

Rick breaking eye contact while lying to Morty:

Having a preferred outfit to wear each day (can be cause of sensory issues). Rick wearing the same blue shirt for over 40 years (we see in flashbacks that it was brighter and has faded with time).

Unusual speech patterns, such as stuttering. Rick's stuttering decreases as seasons progress.

Vocal stimming (when someone repeats a specific sound or phrase to produce sensory stimulation). Some autistic children find it easier to make up their own words. Rick repeatedly saying, "wubba lubba dub dub." He will also repeat his own words (echolalia) immediately afterwards.

Delay edecholalia, scripting (when someone "saves" exact phrases and uses them later to make social situations easier). Rick (in The Ricks Must Be Crazy) remembers Morty's comment, "that just sounds like slavery with extra steps" and uses it later to try and win an argument with another scientist.

Not picking up social cues, finding it hard to understand what others are thinking or feeling. Rick making a joke and then realising the other person is in too much distress to laugh with him (has done this with both Morty and Jerry).

Rick: "You're not laughing?" (Expression changes upon realising) "Oh, right. You're dying."

Unconventional grief response, "inappropriate" facial expressions, lack of fear: Rick reacting to burying himself in a less uneasy way than Morty.

"To the point" style of social interaction. Rick often speaks bluntly and is seen as rude by other characters in response.

Rick: "Everyone, f**k off. Morty, I need your help."

Has a terrible memory but can remember ridiculously difficult information if it interests him. Rick forgets his portal gun and leaves it behind, but can remember the formula for various chemical reactions without using a reference (ending of M.Night Shaym-Aliens!).

And finally...

President Curtis referencing Rick's neurodivergency:

Rick's comment:

Rick: "I'm not touching that thing,"

Rick finding a roundabout way to let Morty know that he (Rick) also has ASD:

Rick: "Is this game popular with autistic people?" Morty: "Why would you say something like that?" Rick: "Because I'm starting to love it."

Wish I could have added more examples, but 30 images is Tumblr's current post limit.

(I understand that the potential meme joke by OP is that the "NOT YOU" image is of Rick from season 1, versus his markedly changed characterisation in season 5-onwards, that focused more on coding Rick as neurodivergent.)

I hope this has been in some part educational for a few readers. Happy Autism Acceptance Month.

But now for the disclaimer bit: Don't take it from me, learn more about ASD.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

~ You are my Rose ~

Shu Sakamaki x (OC) Kianna Komori from @nunezs-stuff

warning : mentioning of eating disorder, blood, drinking blood, implied/mentioned character death, kiss

Summary : Kianna Komori has to find her way in a world plunged into darkness. Coping with the pain of the past, present and future in the knowledge that the only possibility for her salvation lurks in delusion in the form of the eldest of the six demons that haunted her.

Info : So it's finally done my wirst character x oc one-shot and eventho it was a little difficult writing it it was fun to explore her (Kianna) in this one. So I hope @nunezs-stuff likes it and you other too maybe explore her blog for more ocs :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~

The look that was once full of joy when she looked at the pictures of her sister was long gone. Her gaze went out of the window of the big house, one day she would burn it down, try to leave all this behind and come to her beloved sister.

Her eyes went from the full moon to the pink flip phone she saw in her gallery of photos, her sister reading her to sleep and other books. The two of them playing together, from dolls to self-made figures, and baking together, something she particularly missed.

Baking was at least something she could still do here when she was left alone...and that was something that was rather rare. But when the clicking sound of her cell phone went through her room and the screen went black, taking her grief with it for at least that night, she knew that in order not to lose her mind any more, she had to do just that.

You said it helps if you do something familiar, she thought of her sister's wise words then and perhaps now, but it was almost a joke that made her smile. A skinny girl with an eating disorder likes to bake - a bad joke that had come from Ayato or Laito all too often.

Something she was aware of but ignored, she was better than that and she would defend herself if it came to that. Slipping her pink hand into the barely visible pocket of her long, frilly dress in a light shade of pink, she picked up her favorite parasol. It must have looked a little strange for someone to walk through a house with an umbrella, but none of them were normal here. They were all lost.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way down the corridor and listened as carefully as she could in the hallway, but none of the six brothers seemed to make a sound. Shu wasn't snoring, Reiji wasn't experimenting, Ayato wasn't mumbling, Kanato wasn't screaming and Laito and Subaru weren't making a sound.

A place full of dangerous, bloodthirsty vampires should never be quiet, she knew that too. However, as she made her way through the forest, she knew that she was being watched.

She was always being watched by the six, her emotions a trigger for the vampires to feast on her. Feasting on her fear, her pain and trying to eradicate every last bit of happiness to feed on this hopelessness.

As she made her way along the corridors towards her destination, however, she felt the gaze upon her. They're here, she thought to herself, gripping the parasol tighter, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of fear. She could already see the kitchen ahead of her, but at the same moment the red-haired vampire with the green eyes emerged from the shadows.

,,If that's not a pretty bow, what are you up to?" he asked with a grin and she already seemed to know what he was getting at. If she wasn't being terrorized by the brothers then she was being used to do these things.

,,I'm baking Ayato and no, I'm not making takoyaki with you," she said sternly without showing any sign of anger on her face, but a twitch of a muscle would be enough for him to see and he could forget himself. They could all forget themselves.

She wanted to push past him with the help of the umbrella. She had seen how his grin had fallen and had not followed his order. ,,How dare you!" he interrupted and pulled her back towards him by her dress, trying to get her into his arms to drink from her. But the tearing of the fabric tore the dress, the dress her beloved sister had left her. Broken.

The pink ribbons fell down and no longer held. ,,Yui" her sister's name fell to the only person she wanted to see. Ayato paused, he knew the blonde had heard the name and tasted the blood. But in the next moment, her anger escaped the calm she had tried to maintain.

In a moment when she could have screamed, killed him, tried to kill everything and everyone, she held out her parasol and soaked the pretty white with his blood when suddenly a hand placed itself on Ayato's shoulder and pushed him backwards so violently that the eldest of the drillings was thrown against the wall. The cracking of the stone was clearly audible.

,,Ayato, be quieter... you have no right," muttered Shu, the only one of the others who almost always interfered, a detail she had also noticed. A detail that everyone had noticed. The eldest of the brothers seemed unable to detach himself from her.

An obsession, her as his property and something told Kianna that of all the evils he was the worst the worst evil which was her greatest and dearest help.

,,Miserable sleeper, then take her, but one day she will grow to my size," Ayato hissed, moving away from the wall and walking away from the two of them, but Ayato's words of warning let them both know that this was not over yet. ,,He needs to learn who you belong to," Shu murmured, his blue eyes shifting from the fallen bows to the brown-haired girl's bright, almost golden eyes.

He took one of the bows and twirled it between his fingers before handing it over and walking past her outside without a word. But his gaze, those engaging blue eyes, told her to follow him.

Taking up the remaining ribbons, she straightened her beloved kelid as best she could and put them on her cell phone before following the blond. ,,You didn't have to do that... but thank you," she reminded him, knowing that she might not have been able to kill Ayato, but she would have done anything to defend her sister, her only light in this hopeless world.

Following him out of the annexe, she found herself in the large rose garden, white and shiny roses growing in the dark light of the moon. ,,I didn't have to do it Kianna but they learn that you are mine and I thought you would have learned that too" he reminded her as if it was something they had both agreed to. Maybe we did, she thought, looking at Shu who had wrapped his hand around one of the roses, plucking the flower and holding it out to her.

,,Learn? Shu can you learn something like this it's in your nature this...madness" she said and took the rose anyway knowing that Yui had treasured it too knowing that no matter what happened he would do anything to keep it with him. Tucking the rose into her hair, she looked up at the moon, the bright yet sinister light she knew vampires actually liked but every light had light and every light was disturbing to vampires.

,,So you call it madness even though you know the truth," he replied, following her gaze before she suddenly opened her parasol and gave him an inviting look. She saw his semblance of a smile before he stood under her umbrella with her, knowing by this gesture what it meant.

Before he gave her an almost gentle rewarding kiss on the top of her head she didn't flinch as she usually did, allowing his touch for a moment before she latched onto him.

Enjoying the stillness that the night brought and the madness that seemed to slowly take over her seemed inviting all at once knowing that he was with her. That Shu would protect her, that he could at least give her love in her so damned life. If it meant being his Kianna knew that she would survive this pain too. She had done so all her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[munsons-walkie]

Couple of Freaks

Eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary:

You never thought you would end up anywhere after high school. After your first year at college going down the drain, your mother kicks you out. You end up moving to Hawkins to live with your aunt and cousin. Quickly you learn the town isn’t what it seems, learning of the events that happened the past summer. Finding romance along the way was just an added bonus

flirting, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, mentions of eating disorders, drug/alcohol mentions and use, mentions of suicidal thoughts, fix it fic, takes place beginning of the school year for season 4, swearing, classic case of nerds nerding out

AO3

Chapter 1

Your leg had been bouncing the moment your plane took off. Anxiety had been running through your veins ever since you got off the phone with your Aunt Claudia two days ago. Picking your life up and leaving absolutely everything you knew in your small hometown to move to middle America in the even smaller town of Hawkins wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.

Your Angel of an aunt is letting you stay with her to help you get up on your feet after your failed attempt at college life and getting kicked out of your mother’s house.

You threw your future away! You threw our future away!

Your mother’s voice kept ringing in the back of your mind after you had told her you couldn’t take it anymore. The sting of her words hurt, but the sting of her hand hurt more. Your fingers found your cheek to run the phantom bruise that has since faded.

You closed your eyes and put headphones on to help ease your mind. Your plane ride is only about an hour and a half but the past 10 minutes felt like an eternity. You turned your head to the window as Stevie Nicks’ voice carried my thoughts through the clouds you passed.

*********

Getting off the plane seemed so much easier than getting on. This is it, you thought to yourself, I’m finally free .

You took a deep breath as you walked down the terminal to get your bags. Headphones around your neck as you took in the sounds of the airport.

 “Over here, honey!” You hear Aunt Claudia’s warm voice rise above the crowd. You turn your head and see her waving one hand, the other holding a sign saying “Welcome home!” written in big bubble letters, with your little, well not so little, cousin Dustin holding the other side and waving his free hand as excitedly as his mother.

You could feel your cheeks heating up slightly at the attention it drew from people passing nearby, but the embarrassment passed when you saw their smiling faces and couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face and waved right back at them. Dustin came running over right away to help with your bags. It had been about 3 years since the last time you saw him, he had grown so much since and it made your heart warm to see him with his braces, knowing how upset he was for feeling different. You gave him the biggest bear hug, surprising yourself with how you didn’t have to bend over, him finally being the same height.

 “Hey, bud,” You said as he pulled away.

 He calls your name excitedly, “I’m so excited you have no idea, I can’t wait for you to see everyone and to meet the Hellfire club and-“

“Dusty, how about we let her relax first before we show her anything.” Claudia chuckled as she interrupted what you can only assume would’ve been a very long list of things to do.

 Your aunt engulfed you in the warmest hug you had in what felt like years. Your body let out a deep sigh as she rubbed your back, not saying anything for a solid 30 seconds before pulling away. She gave you a knowing smile as she looped her arm in yours.

 “We do have to get home now hun, I did make dinner to celebrate!”

***********

When you pulled up to the house, a station wagon was parked on the street. You weren’t even fully parked when 3 people walked out of the garage, your mind trying to wrap around the height of these boys. You’ve been close with Dustin and Aunt Claudia for years, visiting every few summers up until the summer before sophomore year of high school, so you recognized the faces.

 Mike, looking much taller and leaner than you had remembered, still picturing him at 10 just wanting to show you the toad he and Dustin found that day. Lucas not only looked tall but looked like he started to work out, much different than the little kid who would make fun of Mike crying when he fell down from his bike. You remember there being a third friend, Will but he didn’t seem to be there. You mentally marked that as an “Ask Dustin later” tab and filed it away. Friendships are always changing when you’re still young, especially starting high school.

 You saw Nancy, Mike’s older sister, walk over to Claudia to give her a hug. You two would always spend time together whenever you would visit, helping you both escape the boys when they got too much to handle. She came over and gave a big welcome hug.

 “It’s going to be so nice having you back around with these guys, you have no idea how it’s been dealing with teenage boys.” She lets out a small laugh as she lets you go.

 “It’s so good to see you guys! You all have no idea how much I’ve missed you all.” You walk over to the boys and give them a group hug. Surprised again at the fact that your head was now at their shoulders.

 “Uh, boys could you help with these please?” Claudia asked as she opened the trunk, each boy jogging right over with no questions asked.

 “The room down the hall, this way!” Dustin called leading them into the home. Nancy and you shared a glance and couldn’t help the laugh that broke from you. You followed them inside, remembering that you don’t want any teen boys going through your bags.

******

After the welcome they gave you, you couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and wash the last of the east coast off. Everyone helped put your books and cassettes on the shelves of the bookcase Claudia placed in her guest room- your room- for you. After a couple of hours, the group left to let me get settled. You pulled out your favorite coconut shampoo and conditioner from one of the bags followed by a vanilla-scented soap. As you was about to head over to the shower, Claudia knocked on the open door frame.

 “I know you’re still processing everything dear, but I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need to talk I am always here.” Your aunt looked at you with a hint of sadness in her eyes. She was always the type of mom to never understand why others would treat their own children like options, being such an amazing mother to Dustin. Your mind drew the similarities between her and your dad, her brother.

 You fixed a smile on my face, trying to help her to not worry more than she already has, “Don’t worry Claudia, I know.”

 She stood for a few seconds before nodding at you, “there are towels in the closet right next to the bathroom, let me know if you need anything else.” She smiled as she walked away.

You quickly got yourself situated before hopping in the shower. You turned the cold faucet to the hottest setting, then turned back a bit remembering you don’t need to burn the feelings away like you used to anymore.

 Now I’m safe, I'm safe, you reminded myself twice before turning to look in the mirror.

 It was already fogging up but that didn’t stop you from being able to see the circles under your eyes, the skin almost looking purple. Your eyes looked flat, very dull in combination with my tired face and hair was pulled tight into a ponytail. You stared at yourself until only your silhouette in the fog can be seen. Undressing quickly, you took your hair down, the ends just hitting the middle of your back. As soon as the water touched your skin you let out a sigh, the feeling even reaching deep enough to feel it in your bones. You threw your head back and let everything settle.

*********

 Your cousin called your name as he came down the hallway, “Please pick me up today! It’s getting so cold outside and Steve drives like a grandma!” Dustin whined behind you as you ate cereal at the table.

 It’s been a week since moving in. You were able to find a car for pretty cheap across town, having more than enough money saved up from odd jobs back home while you were still in college. That didn’t stop Aunt Claudia from offering a million times to pay for it, though.

 “Dustin it’s the middle of October of course it’s cold out,” you munched on honeycombs slowly drawing out the anticipation, “so, of course, I’ll pick you up.” Turning to smile at him.

 “One of these days I do need to meet this Steve guy, he sounds like your second mom.” You chuckled as you finished the bowl and walked it over to the sink.

 “God he's going to hate hearing that when I tell him. And I have Hellfire today so you can get me around 5 pm! Thanks!” Dustin, always on the move, spoke as he finished grabbing his things for school and waved goodbye.

 You watched him out the window as he hopped into Nancy Wheeler’s car, she gave a honk, you waved as you watched them drive away. Taking a deep breath, you go back to your room.

 Sprawled on your desk were different flyers for available jobs in the area. Two piqued any interest, the Family Video, and the local diner. Both are good places to really get to familiarize yourself with the people in town.

******

“I’m sorry dear, that position has been filled as of Monday.” The waitress at the diner told me as she finished cleaning off her table. 

Since Monday? I only saw the ad out yesterday on Tuesday? You thanked her for her time anyway and marched back to the car.

 Glancing at your watch and noticed it was almost 2 pm. Still too early to get Dustin . 

As if it was summoned, your stomach rumbled, reminding you that you’ve only had some cereal this morning. Deciding you were embarrassed enough by getting turned down for a job at the diner, you backed out of the parking lot and drove around town.

 You quickly found a slightly crowded McDonald’s. There was a giant black van parked over the lines with a few guys standing around it, their music blasting with the side of the van open. You parked two spots down from them, not wanting to get noticed by anyone. Quickly grabbing your purse, you get out of the car and head towards the glass doors. As you reached the door, however, it swung out, nearly missing your nose.

 “And I’m telling you that I have an awesome campaign idea! It’s going to-“ a guy in black jeans, a leather jacket, and the same shirt Dustin was wearing this morning bumped right into you. “Oh Jesus, I’m sorry!” You sputtered out taking a giant step to the side, feeling nervous about such an attractive guy seeing you be a spaz.

 “No, sorry. I uh…clearly wasn’t paying attention. The door m’lady.” He held the door open and did a small awkward bow at the waist. His long hair flipping over as he did so. You let out a small laugh and offered a quick thanks before heading in and ordering.

 Is Dustin friends with someone like that? You glance out the window, waiting for your burger and fries to come out while sipping on some sprite. They were still out there, all of them chowing down and talking animatedly. They remind me of some of the guys I was friends with back in New York, you think as your eyes stay on them. You were a little surprised to see anyone like that, especially the long-haired one, in a small town like Hawkins. 

Watching him closely as you waited, you noticed he moved around so much as he talked, the eyes of his friends never leaving his performance. You shook your head away as he turned around and almost saw you being a creep.

 After you grab your food and head back to the car, there’s a small chill in the air but the sun is still strong enough to sit outside. You jumped onto the trunk of the car and dove into your fries. The music from the van, you could hear it perfectly as Judas Priest, got turned down just a bit and your could sense a stare or two. You tried to ignore it, knowing full well that everyone in town knows each other and you’re the new shiny object.

 You took a bite of your burger and moaned a bit. God, has it really been that long since I’ve had this? You wonder to yourself as you savor the taste. Your mind going back to the east coast and your controlling mother. She never wanted to be embarrassed by her family so she made you and your dad do everything perfectly, eat perfectly, work perfectly, and even tried to get you to join ballet to be her perfect little dancer. Thankfully you were deemed too old at the time to start dancing with anyone in your age group. 

Your memories bring you back to when you were a freshman in high school, your dad snuck you out one night and went to the closest McDonald’s and pigged out. Don’t tell your mom, she’ll kill me. You smile as you remember you and your dad sharing a laugh. 

 “Eddie c’mon! I can’t have Mrs. Allen give me detention for the third day in a row dude!” One of the guys called out as the long-haired one threw his food away.

 “Gareth, honestly, you need to take it down a notch or two. We still have a good 15 minutes to get back.” The long-haired one- Eddie - snickered as he threw open the van’s driver-side door. You turned your head to the sound of the door slamming and was met by big brown eyes staring back.

 “Play something besides Judas Priest next time!” You call over to him, taking another bite of your burger. His eyes went wide for a moment, his face slightly dumbstruck.

 He quickly fixed himself and called back, “Anything for you, sweetheart!” He winked as he pulled away. You rolled your eyes and kept eating, a soft smile on your lips

 With the van gone the parking lot was too quiet, you quickly finished your food and decided to go over to the Family Video to see if they were hiring.

*****

“Yeah! Hell yeah! I-I mean sure, definitely.” The guy behind the counter tried leaning on the surface and missed, quickly shooting right back up nice and straight.

 “Really? That’s great!” You smiled back at him. Finally, a job to keep yourself busy again, you enjoyed the week of getting used to your new life but your mind would often drift back to what you left.

 A girl walked out from around a stand, and she rolled her eyes at the guy. She walked right up and leaned against the counter, “Can you start Monday? We open at 11, that is if bozo over here isn’t late from his dates the night before.” She made it a point to bite the words at him, a teasing smile on her face.

 “Oh, c’mon that was one-“

 “three times dingus!” He stopped as he was doing the math in his head.

 You enjoyed their banter going back and forth, honestly seeing yourself in between them trying to soothe the situation, “Monday works perfectly!”

 “Great! Well anyway, I’m Robin and this thing here is Steve.” She introduced herself and Steve with a flick of her wrist.

 “Dustin’s Steve?” Your mouth spoke faster than you could stop yourself.

 “Oh my god this is great, even new people in town know your best friend is a freshman!” Robin laughed as Steve shot her a glare.

 “Oh no I didn’t mean-I’m his cousin.” You tried explaining, feeling yourself fail slightly. Then a lightbulb went off over Steve’s head.

 “You’re Henderson’s cousin? You are…wow you are not how I pictured,” you crossed your arms in his direction and cocking your head, “oh god no! I didn’t mean in a bad way I guess I just-I….I just pictured Dustin but like, as a girl.” Both you and Robin shared glances at each other, dumbfounded and bursting out laughing.

 “Yeah ok, laugh it up. We’ll see you Monday.” He called as he walked away towards a customer by the back wall.

 “I’m so happy to have someone else here with me to deal with that, I’ll see you Monday!” Robin patted your shoulder as she went to ring someone up, you waved at them both with a laugh still stuck in my throat. Glancing down at your watch, 4:45. With a close of the car door, you drove over to the high school.

 ******

  That same black van was parked in the lot, you noticed as you parked nice and close to the doors on the side of the building like Dustin said to. There weren’t many cars in the lot, maybe a few teachers and little clusters of cars grouped together by friends in clubs. There were still a few minutes to spare, so you put your dad’s favorite Led Zeppelin cassette in the radio and it picked up in the middle of the last song that was playing, “Black Dog.” A nice hum through the speakers.

 You hopped out of the car and sat on the hood, taking in the sight of the school. Memories of the past hit the front of your head.

  2 years ago

  Your mom had made you walk home again, she found a candy bar wrapper in your room during her weekly inspection and freaked out. 

  “ I will not have a fat daughter! You are grounded for the week, no friends, no phone, and no dinner.” She threw your door closed and locked it from the outside. 

 You felt like such a prisoner in your own home, your only comfort in the room being a small corner in the closet that your mom always overlooked. Dad’s favorite band shirt was nicely tucked away there, and all of the cassettes the two of you bought together. You were sick of being treated like this, being a senior in high school and still having a bedroom stuck at 10 years old. 

 You went to my closet and dug out his shirt, his smell was still there after the two years he’s been gone. Your mom got bad after he left, promising you he would find somewhere for the two of you. Your mom got worse after he died on his way to pick you up. 

 “I’ll be there in two hours kiddo! Just you and me, away from this mess!” He called from a truck stop. You had your bags together and were practically jumping around the room. Two hours came and went. Then suddenly another hour passed and another. 8 hours passed and you got the knock on our door. Police officers told you and your mom how he was killed in an accident not even 45 minutes away from there. 

That  was the first night I tried to take my own life. He promised a better life and he just….left.

 You heard Dustin call your name, then heard the slam of heavy doors behind him. A giant smile across his face as he raced right over. Hopping down, you put your arm around his shoulders. Behind him were Lucas and Mike and…the guy from McDonald’s.

 “Hey again.” He nodded towards you.

 “Oh hey.” You spat out.

Oh my god, you mentally slapped yourself, stop being a spazz!

 Dustin quickly looked between the two of you, confusion was written across his face.

 “I ran into him at McDonald’s,” you explained before he even asks.

 “Oh ok, well this is Eddie, and Eddie this is-“ 

“Are you listening to Led Zeppelin right now?” Eddie jumped over to the open window, his head moving in time with the music.

 “Oh yeah, you like them?” You let go of Dustin and turned toward the long-haired metalhead.

 “Oh great here we go,” Mike whispered to the boys.

 “Are you fuc-do I like-yes!” He stuttered and spun towards you, his eyes lighting up, “that’s so badass Henderson, you didn’t tell me your cousin liked good music!” Eddie wrapped Dustin in a headlock.

“Ow Ow! I didn't know! Oww!" The two roughhoused a bit longer before Eddie let go of Dustin and gave him a pat on the shoulder, both of them laughing.

 "Alright Dust, we should get going. Mike, Lucas do you two have a ride?" You looked toward them as they shook their heads no. Meaning they were going to definitely ask you for a ride. With a sigh and an eye roll, "Get in the car losers. Eddie, it was nice seeing you again." You smiled at him as you started making your way to the driver's side.

 "Yeah-uh...Hey maybe we could-you could I don't know, maybe come to a Hellfire meeting next week?" Eddie's hand scratched the back of his head as he walked backward in front of you.

 "Well...I start a new job on Monday," you start and chew your lip for a moment thinking, "so I don't really know my schedule yet. Rain check?" You opened the door as he nodded.

“Yeah cool, rain check! Alright then, gentlemen I will see you same time and place tomorrow." He saluted them and turned to wink at you before sauntering back to his van.

 You pulled out of the parking lot with the boys and start heading to Mike and Lucas's street, with Dustin navigating....badly.

 "I don't think I've ever seen Eddie get that nervous before." Lucas commented as you were yelling at Dustin about how "the tree with the birdhouse," wasn't the best description to go off of when driving in a town you’re not familiar with.

 "I don't think he's ever invited a girl to Hellfire either." Mike also pointed out.

 "He probably invited me because he knows how much of a nerd my cousin is." You pinch Dustin as he called a "hey!"

 "Where did you get a job? You told Eddie you start Monday." Dustin asked as he rubbed his arm where he might be getting a bruise now.

 "With your second mom at Family Video," you slyly comment, parking in front of Mike Wheeler's house, earning a laugh from the boys

[somethingentirely]

I was trying so hard

To be happy

Or to pretend to be happy for once

And you couldn’t be happy for me

you needed me to bleed

It feels like you hated me

You never had any time for me

And I really needed you to be

Someone I could trust

Someone who was there for me

I needed you to be there for me

I don’t want to escape through lyrics

I want to look past the curtain

On the stage

I used to hide in

At church

A kind of game we used to play

did we ever go to church

Do you believe in god

I feel lost

Sometimes I think about god

And sometimes it makes me sick

I start to see things that aren’t there

Desperate for a sign

Or something

Or anything

That tells me how I’m supposed to live

Now that you’re not there

Now that nothing is there

I keep telling myself I don’t care

But I do

Goddamnit, I do

I care about you

Or I cared about you

Which one is the truth

Is the curtain pulled back

Or am I chasing the ghost of you

And were you just pretending to care?

Did I matter at all to you

Or just that much to you

Did I matter to you

Did I ever once matter to you?

Because I cared about all of you

Because i wish i mattered to you

One second- I’m sorry

I bought a cat named Ava from the loneliness

I Figured

Well shit, I need someone to love me

And it’s not gonna be you

And it’s not gonna be me

Because, you don’t love me

And if you don’t love me

Then nothing will

and definitely not me,

so it has to be somebody

What were we talking about again?

She’s purring

Sometimes i wonder if she can understand what im feeling

Because even if nobody does

At least she tries

Because I’m crying

And she’s purring

And it means the world to me

And I am a truly broken being.

So i wonder what Peter is doing

And I wonder

If he cares

Or is just pretending to care

If i shared anything would he understand me?

What would be the point of telling him?

Of talking?

We’re on completely separate planets

10 feet apart.

And I know he loves me

but then again

We’re on completely separate planets

And I don’t want anyone to feel the kind of pain

I’m experiencing

I don’t want him to feel the pain

I’ve experienced

He’s experienced too much pain already

AND I WAS TRYING TO BE HAPPY

Or pretend to be happy

And you couldn’t be happy for me

And he just wants me to be happy

but you needed me to bleed

And I wish you would at least give me an APOLOGY.

Don’t tell me that i am not deserving

Of an apology

That you really cared that little about me

That the whole time you were just pretending to care

Because I have given you an APOLOGY

to show you that I CARED.

GODDAMNIT

I cared about you

I do,

Goddamnit

I do

Trying to live is hard

Coming out of my shell is hard

Being outside is hard

Being alive is hard

WAKING UP is hard

I am afraid to go anywhere without Peter

Because I’m so sure

That there is nothing else justifying me being alive

And I struggle with eating

I struggle with weight

I struggle with everything

I used to be sicker than this

I’m not really that sick

god you make me sick

You make me feel like this

You made me feel like this

And I can’t live like this

I can’t breathe

I am a Van Gogh painting

There are dogs barking

I am safe I am in bed there are dogs barking and Ava is breathing as she sleeps

These are grounding techniques

And I am still learning to breathe

Pausing frequently

PTSD

Post traumatic stress disorder

I was not living

Not with their hands around me

Extinguishing

Everything

There are vines on the ceiling

And I am counting the leaves

There are exactly

four hundred and sixty three

These are grounding techniques

And I am still learning to breathe

My heart is all black

And like a moth

I am attracted to people with light

Peter is sleeping on the couch tonight

10 feet apart

Separate planets

But I don’t want anyone to try and come over

Or build any rocket ships

he used to try to come over

I used to try to come over

but we crashed so bad

So if he tries to come over

He’s gonna crash

He doesn’t have it easy exactly

Was that you or me

Who’s listening

Nobody

Nobody?

You

Stop hiding

looking for signs where there’s nothing

Trying to hold onto something

jesus

Take it easy

I can’t take it easy

I would if I could

Taking thoughts

Seeing where they lead me

The string keeps unraveling

I am enjoying the unraveling

Writing about unraveling

writing about the journey

Where will this take me

There’s gonna be something

There’s gotta be something

something that says the pain

Wasn’t for nothing

So damnit

I am going to keep writing.

and I am going to keep trying

Even if it hurts

And even if it kills me

I am going to keep trying

To be happy

I

Have been trying so hard

To be happy

And you couldn’t be happy for me

And this is where I would put my ending

I’ve been reading over everything to make sure it’s complete

That I said everything

And what if I got your apology?

what causes the bite?

20/20 in hindsight

Do I need your forgiveness to be happy?

Do I really need you to be happy?

If you never forgave me again

Never said you were sorry

Because I gave you an apology

Did you mean it?

Were you sorry?

Sorry? It’s a little bit more than stress

And regret

We were best friends

We were supposed to be best friends

If you died

I would never forget you

I would still hold you in my heart until the sky collapses and the earth bends from the last days of the lights end

You were the sun

Even if I got Alzheimer’s

Even if I got dementia

Or Amnesia

I would still remember you

Your memory will always live on

Which sucks, because I haven’t always been the greatest person

Hence why I tend to avoid churches

We both know I’ve got sins

But I never wanted to be perfect or holy

Just wanted to be human and dirty

And have that be okay

We both know I’m not the greatest person

But I really wanted to be at the end and

You just hated me for it

I think

and I’m sorry

I wasn’t there for you when you needed me

I need more weed

I know you’ll never reach out to me

not after I lost my mind like that

So I got a cat

Cause I needed someone to love me

And it’s not gonna be you

And it’s not gonna be me

I prefer to imagine people love me

The same way I think about suicide

Like it could happen, not really

because what happens after is too scary

What happens after death?

Hell, what happens when you stop loving me?

I don’t want you to love me

Touch me

don’t touch me

please don’t fucking touch me

Because if I were to love you

It would absolutely be the death of me

So I stay on a planet

10 feet apart

You used to say “you lived in a box”

I’m not even inside a box

I’m lost

It’s been real bad, man

so anyways

Ava’s here

And she bit my left hand today

Pointer finger

But she’s still here

And I’m still here

I mean, she opened the door. (Which she?)

but you’re the one who keeps closing it

Trust

Is earned

[inconsistent-kuroshitsuji-blog]

Could I trouble you for a head cannon list of Sebastian , undertaker and grell taking care of a s/o that has the signs of an eating disorder.

Sorry to trouble you.

Look who is gracing you with their appearance from the deep abyss. I reeeeaaaally need to get back to writing. And how could I do that better than randomly taking prompts and throwing my self-build structures out of the window?

(The writing tool changed and I cannot figure out how to add a cut to my post, why do things always have to change? They even took my favourite headline writing fond...)

MAJOR CONTENT WARNING!

The following headcanons contain the heavy topics of eating disorders and self-harming behaviour. I will not specify the eating disorder. If you feel too heavily afflicted or easily triggered by these topics, please skip these and read something fluffy, treat yourself with some goodness.

Sebastian, Undertaker and Grell with an S/O who shows signs of a developing eating disorder

Sebastian

as he is the one responsible for any food matter in your household, he notices what happens with every food object in his kitchen

it starts with your snacks

they were either always completely empty or barely even touched

he doesn't think much of it initially. Humans have changing tastes and cravings, maybe you grew out of your likings or have an obsessive episode with your snacks. He has seen it before with Ciel and his massive sweet tooth, so this may just be similar.

but as soon as he sees a difference in your eating habits, he knows that something is very wrong

the way you barely or just hesitantly eat, the way you start to eat as soon as something disstressing happened, the way you sneak into the bathroom after having eaten

he knows that this is not right and dangerous for you, your body and health, but he does not know how to approach you about it

he will first try to be subtle about it, asking questions like "Is this not to your taste anymore?", "Do you feel alright?", well knowing he is not going to get a lot out of you

another thing is how you look at your body

he does not like how you try to hide your body from him, he does not understand your reasoning behind it

he is not patient, his worry is too large to bear it any longer than neccassary

he confronts you within a week of noticing your habits, and he is not gentle about it

"Kitten, your way of eating the past few days is worrying me, you do not seem well. Has something happened you would like to tell me?"

he wants to stop it before it can evolve, he has seen humans starve themselves to death, overeat themselves into a life threatening condition

he does not want to see the same fate for you

Undertaker

this is a man whose main foods are biscuits and tea, how much do you expect him to know?

though he has seen people die of starving, he didn't think that people would willingly force their body through the process of starvation and become addicted to it

at least, this is how he sees it

this view of his established itself during the Victorian Era

the closer to dying you looked, the more attractive you were perceived

he thought it was just that

you stopped eating properly? Probably a weird phase in which you tell yourself "the thinner, the better"

stuffing yourself with larger portions than usual? Maybe you snapped out of it and want to take everything in you lost during the past days

but why would start starving yourself again soon after?

he sees everything, but he doesn't realise

not until he met one of his new clients and their parents

the way they discribe the things leading up to their childs demise, they seem too familiar, too close to home

it is then that he realises: you suffer the same way as that child did. It wasn't just a trend peoplecome up with every few weeks, it was serious. And you couldn't possibly help yourself, you need someone to help you until it is too late

so he sat down with you

"Listen, dearie. I had a client recently. They were quite similar to you. Or rather, you are quite similar to them. But I don't want to see you share a cause of death."

if you are willing to talk, he will listen and help the best he can

Grell Sutcliffe

she knows a lot more than she'd like to on this topic

first hand experience, it was a more than just troublesome time for her

she knows the signs and she sees them very early on

she waits until she confronts you, knowing how delicate this topic might be to you

she subliminally tries to show you support, even before talking with you, trying to make you feel as safe as possible around her

she'd prefer it if you opened up about it by yourself, but she will not wait long for you

she is too afraid that the disorder will set itself into you und develope to its more severe stages

as soon as you talk about it together, she will also tell you about her experiences

"Darling, I've been in your place. It's not pretty there. But we'll find a way out from there together."

you can trust her with your life on that

she will not stop and insist to help until you really are better again

this might be due to her experiences, but also due to her overprotectiveness of you

you are the dearest human in her life after all

_________________________________________________________

If you yourself suffer from any eating disorder, please get the help and support you need. I know, you it everywhere, you hear it from everybody, but it really is important. Take care of yourself.

Until next time~

Your Inconsistent Kuroshitsuji Blog~

[atikal]

Azul has been rotting my brain so here are some headcanons I have when it comes to his appearance

TW for talks of eating disorders

Azul, being obsessed with maintaining a very particular weight range, especially since getting a human form.

The twins one time kinda teased him about gaining weight and Azul went straight to crises mode. Counting calories, diets, constantly weighing himself. After that the twins made a silent agreement that they could tease/make fun of anything and everything about Azul, accept his weight.

They’re still free to comment how cute and chubby he was as a child (behind closed doors), but anything about his current appearance is off limits. Does Azul hate it when they bring up the topic of him as a child? Yes, but he mainly just gets annoyed and tells them to shut up.

(as much as the twins love to tease and torture him, they do love and respect him and don’t want to see him suffer)(not that they would ever say any of this)

Azul did mention that they were under a NDA from telling people about his past self, but I imagine it was a normal contract, not one of Azul’s special ones.

(I really can’t imagine Azul trying to get them into one of his special contracts with him unless him having their powers had a time limit. It’s not like he can’t ask them to use them on whoever he chooses. It truly would have to be a mutual beneficial thing for both parties for them to have a contract. Also, the twins aren’t stupid enough to sign one of Azul’s contracts and Azul isn’t stupid enough to think they would)

Wears makeup to hide and blemishes on his skin. Often can be found to have eye bags after especially exhausting weeks, but covers them up so they don’t show. That time when he analyzing 100 years worth of test questions at NRC to write all those study guides? You bet your ass he had the deepest eye bags after pulling multiple all nighters.

Also it made him break out which just added to his stress. 

With how much he obsesses about his appearance and the amount of time he spends looking at himself in the mirror, you could mistake him as a narcissist.

[theellipelli]

Today he is wearing the face of an unnoticeable man. Gazes travel past him and over him as he moves through the crowd outside. He is the human version of oil on water. Plain face, plain clothes, plain everything. He walks like so many others, talks, laughs, and smiles.

I know it is him, though. 

After thirty-three years of spending each day with him at the edges of my vision, I would know him blind. 

He walks through the doors and immediately begins scanning the café for me—he knows where I am, he always does, but he enjoys pretending that this is a game he is letting me win. Eventually, he spots me, sitting in booth tucked into the furthest corner. It is where I always sit, where I have spent every Friday since before he met me. 

He shoots me a smile and strides across the floor, ducking behind patrons and swivelling past chairs and tables. Before long he is standing outside my booth.

His hands are in his pockets, and if he were wearing a more rugged face, I might have been intimidated. “This seat taken?” He asks. He is smiling wide now. He knows I am with no one.

I shake my head.

“Neat,” he says, jumping into the seat and sliding as far in as he can until he is right in front of me. “What are you eating?” He asks.

When I was younger, I would raise my eyebrows at him in disbelief, or annoyance. Now, I only nod toward the tart on my plate. It’s self-explanatory enough. 

Besides, he’s not curious about what I’m eating. He’s curious about whether I'll speak.

If you ask my family or friends about why I no longer talk, they’ll sit you down for an hour and explain the deep, traumatic effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. They’ll show you the news, interviews with the police in the paper, and explain how, ever since that day, not a single noise has escaped my mouth.

They’ll explain how I tried learning sign language, morse code, or simply writing down things on paper, and how time and time again, I refused. How all communication with me has ceased, aside from nods and shakes of my head. 

Then, of course, they’ll insist that it isn’t a bad thing and that I am an “excellent listener!” 

If you ask him, he’ll say I am doing it simply to spite him, or to avoid death. On bad days, it’s both. Often, he will ask me why I refuse to talk and grow frustrated at my lack of response.

If you ask me, I will not answer. But if I could, I would say; “It is because I need the time to think.” 

Aren’t your final words supposed to be your magnum opus? Each day I have spent pondering what my final sentence shall be, shadowed each day by my end. It has been a fruitless thirty-three years.

Until today.

He’s talking to me. He usually talks to me. He’s good like that. This face is alright to look at, but he’s worn better ones. A few weeks ago, it was a small lady, petite and blonde and with a voice so high that I feared her excited rambling would shatter glass. Some months before that it was an older man with a good beard. That one might be my favourite.

I’m sad he looks so plain today. I would’ve liked it if he looked more my age instead of twenty-something on this occasion.

Of course, I cannot tell him this. Instead, I listen intently to what he says and smile when he says something funny and nod along. 

The first ten years were the worst ones. We both hated each other then. I was terrified of death, of course—I was twenty and was clinging to life with unparalleled fury. He spent days screaming at me in frustration, then tripping me up in the streets, throwing eggs at me between my home and the store. After a while he began instead trying to provoke me, to say such outlandish things that I simply had to retort. But back then I was stubborn, and I wanted to turn at least fifty before he took me away. 

Then, when I turned thirty, we both settled into a routine. It wasn’t good, but it was nearing something pleasant. 

Refusing to communicate for ten years does put a hamper on relationships—at the time I was especially alone. I had some friends, yes, but I was never anyone’s favourite person.

For a few years, back then, my only company was him. And my parents, who would call me so often that after a while I stopped picking up my phone.

For a few years, it was just him and I. He wasn’t as frustrated with me anymore. At that point, I think he was more curious about how long I could drag the silence out. 

Instead of trying to pry words out of me through annoyance, he instead began talking to me like a friend. He came over to my house every once in a while, hands clutching bags of dessert, wily tales on his lips and excitement in every new face he wore. 

We are friends now, I hope.

Thirty years, and I have never once spoken a word to him. And here he is, for another day, to tell me about his day. Isn’t that lovely?

Sure, his kind most certainly thinks of relationships differently than I do. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was truly some long-winded plan to have me speak my final words, and he can finally collect on my soul.

He tells a joke. It’s funny—it’s really funny. I do not laugh, but I grin with my teeth. He doesn’t look disappointed when I don’t make a noise, but instead returns the smile with even more vibrancy. 

I like his hair today. It’s dark and curly, but short and sweet. Usually, he has long hair—locs, curls, or straight. He says he enjoys the feeling of it against his shoulders. I have long since stopped wishing I could speak. But if I were still thirty, I might have entertained the idea of opening my mouth to compliment him. 

But today, I am set. 

I tap him on the wrist, and he stops talking.

“Yes?” He asks. The mocking tone amuses me—he’s challenging me to speak.

Instead, I move my arm to my mouth and tap it once.

“If you’re asking me to shut up, please know that you would have to pay me,” he says, leaning forward only slightly. He places one of his arms on his table, while the other one remains in his lap.

I shake my head and tap again.

“I don’t want to kiss you either.”

He usually has no trouble interpreting my wants. It makes me slightly gleeful that today he misunderstands me twice.

Oh, how I want this to be good. I want him to be so surprised he can't speak. I want the tables to turn, just for today, just for a minute. I want him to be the speechless one, for just a breath.

I’ve known my words for a few months now. They’re simple, easy. I almost wish I’d been allowed to say them before. 

I open my mouth and tap my lower lip.

He stares at me in confusion, brow furrowed in deep concentration, as though he thinks he might see something mysterious in the back of my throat. Then he sighs and leans back in his seat, defeated. “Sorry, girlie. I don’t understand what you want today.”

“I love you.”

My words are scratchy and quiet. It’s a breeze that comes and goes, only to be heard by me. 

And him. 

Immediately, he straightens, ramrod straight in an instant, staring at me wide-eyed across the table. He is speechless. I am overjoyed.

I smile at him again, cheeks pulling my lips up. My teeth aren’t perfect, and I have never enjoyed smiling so widely, but today is a good day.

When he does not speak, I cannot help but continue.

“Thank you for being with me, these years. I love you. I think I’m done now. I’ve had it good, with you, but I think it’s enough. I’ve caused you enough trouble as it is.”

He stares. Wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing. If he were human I might have moved to his side and asked if he was alright. Not a word comes from his mouth.

Speaking hurts, and I suddenly find I don’t enjoy it that much. If he doesn’t speak now, what can I do but sit silent?

“What?” Is what eventually manages to push past his lips. It’s a helpless little sound, more a puff of air than a word. It makes me smile.

I nod.

“Wait, can you speak again?” He asks, leaning forward across the table to grab my hand. “Please, speak again.”

“I love you,” I say again. My voice is tinny, lacking in power and volume. It is like a thin piece of paper or a single drop in a vast ocean. It is nothing to the world.

It might be everything to him.

He remains quiet for another while, hand slipping out of mine and leaning back in his seat, defeated. He stares at the edge of the table, running a finger across it, before sighing. “Haha,” he starts, raising his head to smile at me. “Man. It sucks that you choose now, of all days, to speak. There’s this new movie I really wanted to go see with you.”

I remember it. He showed me the trailer last year when it first came out on the internet. Some hero-flick. Not my type of movie, but he loves them. I’ve watched a thousand at his side.

“Why not—” I begin, and cough. My throat is dry and aching already. I push through. “We don’t have time for just one movie?” I say, smiling again. My cheeks ache. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he ponders, hand on his chin. “Well, I suppose we have time for one movie. But we better do it fast, or else we’ll miss the scene after the credits.” He leans across the table and grabs my tart, shoving it into his mouth and chewing it. “Come on, come on! The movie starts in 10 minutes.”

I give him an exasperated stare, and he laughs.

“Don’t blame me! You always leave here at three pm at the latest. Besides, there are no other showings of this movie!”

There are. I know, because I briefly looked at the tickets last week. I bought some for tomorrow, but I guess they won't be needed anymore. It’s alright to do it today instead.

He grabs my hand and pulls me from my seat, jumping with excitement. He’s smiling at me, wider than he has in a while, and pulls me into a crushing hug. 

When he pulls back, he’s different. The hair is the same, and so are the eyes. But he’s a bit older, a bit looser with age. He doesn’t look as old as me, but he looks old. His hair is greying at the temples. I smile and run my hands over the white streaks.

“I don’t get why you dye yours,” he says, tugging lightly at my hair as well. “The grey adds to the sex appeal.”

I hit him on the shoulder and laugh, though I make no sound. He beams. 

“Eh, whatever. It's too late for that now. I’ll have enough grey for the both of us, what do you say?” He shoots me a smile across his shoulder as he turns away from the booth and walks out of the café. 

I follow through the door and come out to stand on the side of the road with him. He smiles at me, then grabs my hand and tugs me away towards the cinema. 

“Do you have any last words before I kill you?” snarled the demon. That was 33 years ago and I’ve not said a word since yet it still shadows me, waiting.

[badassbutterfly1987]

The Comeback by Ella Berman

Normally I would do a quick summary and copy it into my yearly book review. But this book was deeply frustrating to read because it had so much potential and just ended up being underwhelming. It's not a good sign when I end a book thinking "wait, is that it?"

CW for book: grooming and rape of a minor by their mentor figure, mental breakdown, suicidal ideation and suicide attempt, slutshaming and bullying of a teenage girl, mention of eating disorders

Plot:

Grace Turner was a child and young adult star mentored by respected director Able Yorke. On the verge of being given a film award, she abruptly had a mental breakdown for reasons unknown to the public and returned to her family. She returns to Los Angeles and Hollywood a year later.

Considering that Grace was a child actress, the content warnings above, and that this was written during the #MeToo movement, you can probably guess where this is going. So yes, Able groomed and isolated her as his personal muse, further abused her when she reached 18, and tossed her aside when he lost interest which led to her breakdown.

One would expect this to be either a powerful perspective of a young woman who had been abused by Hollywood in general and her mentor in specific, or a psychological thriller about her enacting revenge on Able and ruining his career in return. Unfortunately it doesn't really manage to be either.

The characters:

There is no one in this book that I found likable, which isn't a requirement so long as the characters are interesting or entertaining. They are, for the most part, not.

Grace is a mess obviously. She's traumatized and pushes people away even though she wants them to stay and is casually cruel while being apathetic; there is little more to her. Grace returns to Hollywood after her emotionally distant and arguably abusive mother kicks her out. It's less because she actually wants to have another go at her career or wants to face her past, and more that she doesn't know what else to do with her life.

What's her motivation? Does she want to weasel her way into Able's family while he's elsewhere directing and indirectly torment him that way? For all of five chapters. Does she want to go public with his abuse and ruin his career? She intends to but then mostly backs out until a public confrontation in the very last chapter.

She has a younger sister named Esme who increasingly shows up. She has a complimentary arc about slutshaming and bullying when being a teenage girl. The bond between her and Grace is weak but that makes sense because Grace was too busy being an actress to grow up as sisters. She's decent as a character.

Able appears in a couple flashbacks and is obviously a manipulative monster. He's apparently obsessed with making independent films as 'Art' though that's more told than shown. He's apropriately unsettling when he shows up in the current timeline but that doesn't happen until the last quarter of the book.

I can recall some of the secondary characters' names but good luck differentiating them. They are varying degrees of vapid Hollywooders and mildly supportive. It's notable that the character Lana appears in the last third who supposedly was a notable member in a previous scene and is the girlfriend of another supporting character, and I still have no idea who she is and what she did (this one could be just the fact that it took a week to slog through the entire book). There are too many characters with not enough defined personalities.

Able's wife Emilia is arguably interesting. She reaches out to Grace and seems supportive of her return to acting but her kindness increasingly rings false. She casually mentions that she once was jealous of the bond between Able and Grace. Considering that Grace dropped out within a year after her 18th birthday, this thought almost certainly occured when she was still underage, potentially early in her teen years, and she was jealous of Grace instead of being disturbed that her husband might be a groomer and abuser. It's more or else confirmed that she suspected Able's actions but was in denial because she prioritized her perfect marriage with him and their kids. So she is at least interesting.

A journalist is introduced and seems relevant for a few chapters and is brought back indirectly in the ending. She appears in two or three scenes. Like the rest of the cast, she alternates between provoking Grace and encouraging her to go public.

The way the story is told:

To help demonstrate my point I'm going to talk about Darling Rose Gold: Rose grew up chronically sick from an unknown illness until it's revealed that her mother has Munchausen's by Proxy and has been poisoning her for most of her life; she predictably goes to prison for a decade while Rose is surrounded by intermittently supportive adults. Chapters alternate between past Rose living her life and how she changes from her ordeals, and her mother's POV as she re-enters her life and increasingly strange things happen to them. It ends on a shocking and narratively satisfying note that fits the stories of both characters.

This book would have benefited from that kind of structure. Half of the chapters would be about Grace's upbringing in Hollywood under Able's care. The other half would be Grace rebuilding her acting career while facing her trauma and/or getting revenge against her former mentor.

We get continuous moments showcasing the usual awfulness of Hollywood, paparazzi, and child acting. A shame we aren't given more flashbacks demonstrating the strain on teen Grace instead of the scattered moments as current Grace floats around the narrative. Would focus the narrative and hopefully be less of a slog to get through.

The above mentioned journalist implies that there are other actresses that had similar experiences to Grace and her going public could help them. We do not meet any of these women or are told of their experiences.

There is one scene I fully praise for its effectiveness. Grace is sixteen or seventeen and has just tried to fledge out with being in a movie not produced by Able. It's near the end of filming and it's already obvious it's going to be a flop. To destress she goes to a party, tries cocaine and is almost filmed doing so, and gets into a fight with her costar where he calls her a bad actress and the reason the movie's failing while she retorts that it's because he's gay and threatens to out him(?). Because she's surrounded by strangers, she calls Able to pick her up. He takes Grace back to their hotel, comforts all her anxieties while cleaning her up, and stays by her bed until she falls asleep. This is the only scene where he is being fully supportive with no obvious manipulation which makes the knowledge that he has been and will continue to groom makes it incredibly unsettling.

That ending can be summarized as Grace confronts Able on the stage as he recieves his big film reward for two pages, and then everyone claps. What should be the Big Moment instead rings hollow. The epilogue aknowledges that this is more likely to damage Grace's barely rekindled career than result in jail time for Able. It doesn't even really damage his Hollywood career because he was already planning to retire and move away with his family.

Able's legacy is tarnished while Grace's career will be haunted by either being pitied or accused of being a liar. I guess it's more realistic than the typical vengeful narrative of this genre but it's still underwhelming.

The writing itself probably makes it a 3 star but my personal frustrations drop it to 2 stars. I'm going to give the author a little slack because this is her first novel. There is talent buried here and I hope Ella Berman grows as a writer. I will also recognize this is specifically my reaction and, going off of Goodreads reviews, other people will find it effective.

[mellow-worlds]

I forgot whether I said this already so I'll tell you now. A while ago I asked him "what am I?" in my weak whispering voice and he called me disgusting again. He called me a whore, too. It didn't really do anything with me, though. Well, I was happy he answered my request to call me things and it did feel kinda good, but no butterflies. I just thought about how I said "I'm yours" and he said "yes you are". That gave me butterflies :)

But we haven't really done stuff like that in a while. Last time he spat on me twice, and he hit me about 4 times. I just hope he does it because he likes it. I hope he doesn't restrict himself in fear of hurting me. He choked me, but also not as much. Honestly, it didn't occur to me that he did it less for most of the time, ig I didn't really miss it. Buttttttttt like I said I don't want him to restrict himself.

It's got me thinking though. Idk. I've been reading "Normal People". It's got me thinking. It's clear that I like the degradation because it's what I deserve and it makes me feel good and special maybe and reassured. It's like yeah, I am stupid and worthless and ugly. Buttttttttt the physical pain? Idk. I like how degrading it feels. I like the choking, I tihnk. I like thinking about how he hits me. I like thinking "this is the guy who hits me" when he's being his usual, sweet self again. There's two versions of him, kind of.

If he wants to hit me senseless, I'd want him to do it. Ig we haven't talked about it enough for me to really know. We should do that.

When I phantasize about him, I only think about cuddling with him, and about how he kisses me. I like the sexual stuff as well, but I just want to be held. Plus getting on my knees for him is exhausting..... It hurts and is unpleasant for the most of it. But I like it when he shows signs of liking whatever it is I do. And I think he likes degrading me that way as well. I guess I should like that as well, how submissive one has to be for that.

The weirdest thing is, he lent me Normal People. He said he really likes romance books and then he gave it to me so I could read it. I asked him recently how long ago it was he read it and he said a couple months. I asked him how much he remembers. He said he'd remember most of the things prolly if I told him about them. Idk. It feels weird. Marianne develops an eating disorder. She gets super depressed. Connell wants to kill himself. Marianne gets abused by her boyfriend. Connell is made to look like this super good innocent guy who'd never hit her and it's so virtuous of him. Idk it feels weird. I won't talk about these aspects and I don't think he knows I want to die and that I used to have like every ed. Back then when I actually used to, yk. I'm not gonna talk about these aspects of the book. Maybe I should. Marianne and I are just too similar and I'd feel too vulnerable. I'd feel too exposed. I should talk with him about it though. I don't have to mention it regarding the book, but we should talk about it. He should maybe know about my past. I feel like I shouldn't bring it up though. Connell at some poitn asks Marianne why she didn't tell him before that her family abused her and stuff and she said she thogught he wouldn't like her anymore. I have the same fear. I'm not the person he thought I was when he started liking me. It's unfair. He deserves better. GOSH he deserves better. GOSHHHHHHHHHH what am I doing. I feel so selfish.

The connection that bonds Marianne and Connell. He could make her do anytihng if he wanted to. It's the same for him and me. He could make me do whatever and as long as my physical discomfort wasn't too great I'd do it.

Today I had the thought that I can't live my life for myself, so I live it for him. But that's a lie, isn't it? I'm super selfish. I always only have my best interests in mind. I'm so selfish. I don't think I should push my interests onto him. I don't think I should be so selfish. I am. I always pull back when something becomes too straining for me or when I just don#t want to do soething. GOSH I'm so selgish. I don't knwo what I'm doing this for. I thought about writing him this long letter about how I view our relationship and what I get out of it and blablabla but it'd be too selgish. I can't do that. It would just consist of I love you please don't hate me even though I deserve to be hated please stay with me because I indulge in your company and because I need you to be happy and because I'm like a sad dog when I'm not with you and alone please you're the most perfect person ever. There's nothing you can't do. You're perfect. I indulge in your company so selfishly. You shouldn't have to take care of me and I'll try to be as little of a nuisance as possible, but I'm so selfish I doubt I'll succeed at making you feel easier so I apologize for taking up yuour time for wasting your precious time because you are precious. I don't kniw how someone as worthless as me could be selfish enough to spoil something as beautiful as your existence by trying to become a part of me and I apologize. You could get rid of me whenever you wanted and I'd thank you. I'm yours.

It's all true and I could write so much more but I'll stop now.