#cw mom mention

[emcant]

Really sick reason to be happy but I can't stop smiling

TW/CW child abuse, mental illness, SH

One of my aunts calls our family "yours, mine, and ours", which is accurate. We've got me, my (step)brother, my dad, my stepmom, and my (half)sister. My brother is seven weeks younger than I am. Our parents got together when we were around four- "work spouses" who were both recently divorced- and our little sister came a few years later.

My bio mom and my brother's bio dad are a mess, somewhere between incapable and unwilling to parent full time. I've been in therapy off and on for most of my life and got my C-PTSD diagnosis at 15. My brother, god love him, just reached his first year of sobriety, having started drinking around the same age.

Naturally, every time we had a chance to say "This isn't normal" to our shared folks, we'd be told "Well of course you'd think that, you're used to your other parent!". The other person was a shovel used for digs: "This isn't their house!". They'd call me by my mom's name when I made them upset.

I assumed I was broken either because of my mom or because of the split. I can't know for certain, of course, but I think the cause of the C-PTSD was specifically that they traded custody daily, at my mom's request, until she moved out of state. She gives the silent treatment. My stepmom screams. The rules changed on me literally every 24 hours until I was 13.

Life evened out a lot when she did move away - but not entirely. I wound up in screamland 90% of the time rather than 50. I couldn't figure out why it didn't feel right or why it kept happening to me, but I believed my folks: I wasn't used to it because my mom's "parenting" is different and worse. I felt sickened to be involved with my mom at all. I thought that if only she wasn't waiting in the wings, I'd be entitled to a normal childhood, but because of her influence, I deserved everything I got.

Anyway, I have been texting my little sister about Christmas gifts for our brother, and out of nowhere, earlier this week, she tells me she's going to therapy for the first time... because she's realized it's not normal for your mom to scream at you literally all day and your dad to not intervene.

I haven't been home for more than three days since I moved out over a decade ago. I had a chance to pass through the town earlier this year, didn't do it, and still had panic attacks for two weeks straight. I can't hack it as someone's daughter; it makes me physically sick.

But that isn't a me problem.

Not a one of them could hack it as parents.

I've stopped hearing my mother's doubts in my head - I cut her off when I moved away. I've never been quite able to shut off my stepmom's. The screamer versus the silence... it fits.

I'm not a poser if I can't create when I don't have a comfortable space to work. I should not self-reject because I'm frightened. In the absence of an abuser, I'm finding that holding ideas in also hurts a lot.

I'm not stupid or useless or gearing up to be a failure for needing the introvert rest period and knowing my limits. It will not hold me back in life.

It isn't normal to want to hurt yourself. It isn't normal for people to laugh it off and talk about themselves when you tell them you want to hurt yourself.

The mandatory insincerity I grew up around has thankfully faded a lot - I don't think I could summarize that anymore if I tried.

I'm heartbroken that my little sister is going to need to learn these things - but ecstatic that she will, and is actively moving towards it. Had a similar conversation with our brother a few years ago, but of course, he has his dad in the wings; it hits differently now knowing that it would have happened no matter what. Children in that home are screamed at, hit, and not defended. Simple as.

I'm not what they wanted me to be.

I'd say that's "fine" but that doesn't even begin to cover it. It's exemplary.

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

[faggotstump]

Killing myself isn't an option, jerking off doesn't help, I don't drink or smoke, going missing is probably a bad idea, and I can't fucking drive. Not really seeing much else I can do in this situation.

[rayna5158]

I would never eat again fr

[itsnotmourn]

the pristine cut update to slay the princess is pretty cool

(i talk about my au below but there will be spoilers for the game)

OH MY GOD IM GOING TO END MYSELF ITS SO GOOD. i guess i'll start one by one about the game routes and what that brings for the spooky month ladies

i couldn't decide with one specific route so i decided to make alternative endings for them! no need to choose between endings. makes life easier. case in point: lila, pump's mum and patty, as they can split into other endings in the third chapter.

lila

lila gets her good ending as a human being instead of a ghost who cheered

pump's mum

i'm not including most things from this route in the au as the game goes dark here (but it's a beautiful dark, watch a playthrough when you can!)

i did notice a theme of "i'm not happy here" and "the world moves on, and i'm still here" and i think i will be using that the most here to reflect of them working so far from home and being unable to leave to see their kids.

so in my au, this route will be reworked by me until we get some canon material about pump's dad's feelings about work

actress

soft vore vs hardcore cannibalism (?) as a metaphor for devotion. amazing.

patty

oh yeah, patty is one of the princesses now, with john as her skeptic foil!

she actually fits more with the drowned grey route than the cage as she wears a funeral dress and all. however, i like the cage's design more with the head separated from the body lol

then i figured... john is smart, logical and questions the strange, which makes him a good fit to be the skeptic.

carmen

the game updates this route pleasantly. not a lot, but it's completes the route more!

in the apotheosis route, you can try to run or attack but either ending is the same. now, you can successfully attack her!

though, fun fact: all the princesses don't really react to pain. however, the tower/apotheosis both scream; that's so fun to me as they view themselves as godlike and resistant to wound.

radford/contarian in this route is also funny to me because imagine standing against a blinding god with unimaginable power and going "we can beat her lmao"

jaune

uhhhh nothing much for jaune update-wise, but i felt bad if i didn't include her so...! she's here :]

oh and one last thing:

that's y/n

[the-kr8tor]

👀🤣 may I request a Christmas fic where one/both the twins see R kissing Santa Claus (but it’s actually Hobie dressed as him) and they start an all out war against Santa? Can’t stop laughing my ass off from this idea

- 😅 (@hyperfix-wip )

Hehehe thank you for the cutest prompt!! I've always wanted to write this trope 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU, cw food mentions, fluff!

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ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Billie wakes up with a start, heart pounding in her ears from the sudden wake up call. “What—?!” Her mouth is covered by a familiar hand, silencing her yell. “Mmhm?!” Eyes wide, she hones in on her twin’s face in the dark of their shared room. Save for the light flooding inside from the cracked open door, and their Spider-Man night light, it's pitch black.

“It's me!” Ramona whisper yells, front tooth still missing after she lost it in the playground. “Someone's downstairs. I think it's him!” Her eyes shine with excitement, curls bobbing up and down as she tries to contain her giddiness.

Billie yanks her sister's hand away, frowning at her from the sudden intrusion. “I was having a good dream, Mon.” Her look reminds Mona of her dad's exact expression when he has to mow the lawn again.

Mona ignores her sister's annoyance, “didn't you hear what I said? Santa's ‘ere! At our house!” She whisper yells again, this time loud enough for whoever's downstairs to pause their movements. Her eyes widened, hands covering her mouth to tamp down her excitement. “We should stay quiet—”

“Santa's ‘ere!” Billie is quieted once again by Mona's hands.

After waiting for a minute, the girls slowly and silently go outside of their room, matching holiday socks softly walking across the polished floorboards. Their pajamas are also on theme, with Mona opting for a pink sugar plum fairy matching set, and Billie wearing the classic Santa Clause set. Both that you've lovingly made for them. They're clearly excited, especially when it comes to the big bearded man in red. Billie more especially, after you and Hobie brought them to a local mall to see Santa and for them to give them their wishlist, she's been raving about wanting to stay up to catch him in the act. But after watching home alone and having a belly full of warm milk, she went out like a light. Mona on the other hand wants to see him eat the cookies you two prepared for Santa. It's her favourite, chocolate chips with marshmallows. She's hoping that the big man would like it, especially that she gave him the batch from her personal stash.

As they walk out of the hallway and into the floors of the second floor landing, they start to crawl once they see shadows dance along the walls of the living room. The tree that the four of you lovingly put up and decorated are twinkling with the holiday lights, reds, greens and yellows blinking in and out of the room.

“Do you think they'll like it?” They hear your familiar voice, whispering downstairs.

The girls make it to the stairs that overlook the living room, they make themselves smaller by lying prone on the cold floor, tiny hands grasping at the bannisters. Their eyes widen at the sight of who you are talking to.

Right next to you is the man of the hour himself, dressed in red with a giant sack of presents right next to him. He's taller than they've expected, and slimmer. Maybe Santa's cutting back on the cookies.

Billie grabs Mona's shoulder, shaking her excitedly. They wordlessly communicate through looks, based on their happy expressions, they feel like the luckiest kids in the world. They continue to watch Santa work his magic as he places wrapped presents underneath the tree with their names written on them.

“I know they'll love ‘em. ‘sides, Mona's been askin’ for it since July.” Santa replies to you, brown eyes shining in the string lights. His eyes seem to smile at you sitting in the corner of the room, hand occupied with a warm cup of eggnog. The bottom half of Santa's face is obscured by his big white beard, but he's clearly smiling softly at you. “And Bee always wanted that moon lamp ever since she saw Gwen's.”

Beaming at jolly Nick, you leave your cup on the coffee table to walk over to him. “I know, but what if they suddenly don't want those anymore.”

Santa stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you closer as he abandons the sack of presents on the floor. “Love,” love? The girls look at eachother with furrowed brows. Only their dad calls you that, and maybe occasionally that one shop owner downtown that you always buy fabrics from. “Y’know the girls would still be happy even if we gave them a potato each.”

You come to his side without saying anything about the close proximity to the actual Santa. The girls narrow their eyes at Santa's glove hand splayed across the small of your back, thumb rubbing gently across your soft pajama shirt. Only their dad gets to hold you like that.

Chuckling, you move to half hug him, arm wrapped around his back while you place your chin atop the soft red jacket. “Why a potato?”

“Because they go wild for chips.” He looks at you through gentle eyes, nudging his forehead on top of your own, the faux fur of his hat is soft against your skin.

“That's true, maybe we should've gotten them a whole sack of potatoes instead.” Your grin has the girls worried, especially when you move closer to him that the girls would know that it would have their dad burst into tears if they ever saw the scene in front of him.

“That's why ‘m santa, lovie.”

“Mm-hmm,” now you fully embrace him. The girls share a heavy look. “Why are you in full get up again? They won't be able to see you in this, not while they're snoring away all the cookies they had.”

“I know,” he shrugs, “what if they wake up, it'll be a nice memory for ‘em.” His arm squeezes you, hand dangerously close to your behind. The twins are both pissed, standing up from their place atop the stairs. “Or, ‘m all dressed up for you, love.” Santa winks at you, and you giggle in his arms. “Give big red a kiss, yeah?” As he leans in, the twins run downstairs swiftly, yelling and screaming at him to let their mum go.

“What— girls!” You move away, arms trying to block their attacks from hitting Santa.

“Not our mum!” Billie makes it to him first, clinging herself on his leg, trying to bite him through his red pants.

“We trusted you, Santa!” Mona leaps to punch at his stomach, earning a pained groan from the bearded man.

“Mona, no!” You grab her by the armpits as she continues to flail around, trying to get another hit. Good thing you’ve gotten to her before she aimed at his crotch. “Baby, no, that's—!” You contemplate telling them the truth, but Hobie's subtle head shake has you clamping down and embracing Mona.

“Ow, fuc–fudge!” Hobie hops around the room, trying to wiggle free of Billie, who's still clutching at his leg. “Billie, stop!” The one time that his spidey senses failed him.

“I don't care if ‘m on the naughty list! You tried to kiss our mum!” She chomps down on his leg, and he yelps when her baby teeth sink into the fabric and into his leg.

Hobie has no choice but to grab Billie the same way you did with Mona. He holds her in front of him, an arm's length away, still trying to take a chunk out of him. He feels like he ruined the magic of Santa for them. Not to mention the song.

“Stop–!” Hobie holds out his hand to her to tell her that he means no harm, but she tries to bite at his finger. “Billie—!”

“Daddy!” Ramona screams out, voice echoing and rumbling the house. “Daddy, there's an– an impruder!”

You would've chuckled at her fumbled pronunciation of intruder and told her the right way to say it, but when she's on the verge of tears; the both of them are, you have to think of a solution.

“Daddy!” Billie joins in, now fully sobbing. “H–He kissed mummy!”

“I haven't! Not yet!” Hobie tries to defend himself, or Santa for that matter. But it makes the whole thing so much worse when Billie wiggles herself out of his grasp to run towards yours and Hobie's bedroom while crying for him. “Shi—!”

You meet with his eyes while embracing a crying Mona. Mouthing a ‘Go!’ He immediately knows what you're up to. Your synergy levels with him are off the charts.

He leaves through the window, snow crunching underneath him and almost freezing him in the spot. He slowly rips off the Santa outfit one by one whilst he makes his way towards the back of the house. Shedding the beard and tossing it haphazardly in the backyard, he crawls on the wall, finally making it to the bedroom window just as when Billie opens the door with a loud creak.

Feigning naiveté, he acts shocked at her weeping as he opens his arms to her. “What happened?” She sobs on his sleep shirt, drenching it with tears. As Hobie pats her back, he realises that he's still wearing the gloves which he promptly throws away and under the bed before she could see it. “C’mon, mac, tell dad.” He cups her wet cheeks, trying to calm his little girl down.

“I saw mummy kissing Santa Claus!”

Hearing Mona's cry in the doorway with you carrying her, he knows that you two have a long night ahead of you.

—

“Are you sure you want to change pajamas, Billie? You said it's your favourite. The red suits you—” You try to placate her with a plate of chocolate pancakes.

“Yes.” She says so surely with her arms crossed over her chest, still fuming. “I hate Santa.”

Hobie's sitting right next to Mona, hand rubbing along her back whilst she stares angrily at the empty plate of cookies she left for Santa sitting on the counter. “Me too.” She huffs, stabbing her pancakes with a fork.

You share a look with Hobie, hoping that he has any idea how to calm them down. Hugging Billie seems to tamp down her anger, but she still looks at you with furrowed brows after you've apologized profusely.

“Why did you kiss, Santa?” She asked a few hours ago, stomping her little foot down on your bedroom floor, while her sister followed her lead.

“I didn't!” You stared at Hobie right next to you on the bed, looking like he's about to burst into laughter but is keeping it in. “And I wasn't gonna!”

After that whole ordeal, they seem to simmer down to a silent anger that still reverberates through the house. Maybe opening the presents earlier would make them forget it and make them smile.

“We should make signs, Bee! Like what dad makes so Santa knows not to come back ‘ere!” Mona lights up, you finally got a smile out of her.

“That's brilliant!” Hobie plays along, and Billie agrees with rapid nodding that you had to stop with your hand on her forehead before she breaks something. “I'll get my supplies, you two go finish your pancakes, yeah?” Just as he says it, they scarf down the pancakes, prompting Hobie to grab your hand and speed walk away from the kitchen.

Once the two of you are out of earshot and their sights, he corners you against a wall, hands cradling your cheeks, and sighing as he relaxes atop you.

You laugh against his hair, pressing lazy kisses on his hairline. “Don't forget to grab the outfit outside, Hobie. I made that to tailor you and you only.”

He lifts his head up from your chest, cheeks puffed out from sleepiness. Blowing out air, you giggle at him as he flutters your lashes. “I know, love.” His eyes roam all over your face, looking at every curve and dip until he stops at your lips. “I still haven't gotten my answer.”

“Or what? You'll put me on the naughty list?”

Hobie leans closer, lips brushing along your waiting lips. “Lovie, you're on my list every year.”

“I hope I'm the only one on it.” You say, wordlessly inviting him for a kiss by pecking his jaw softly.

“You and you only.” With a chuckle atop your lips, he kisses you under the mistletoe he subtly put up with the sole purpose of kissing you underneath it.

[barbthebuilder]

Okay vent time bc I'm literally gonna cry

My mom found out I have lgbtq pins put on my back pack and a rainbow bag. She never hid her dissatisfaction with me being gay so I knew her reaction wouldn't be pleasant. However, I'm still upset.

She said that she doesn't want me to go out there bc it puts me in danger. And it would be sweet of her even if not for the tone and disgust in her eyes. I can tell she was condesending me and felt embarassed for me. She isn't outright hateful. I can't call her out on her saying hurtful shit since everything she displays is this passive agressive talk. She has this mask of "accepting" mother but her first reaction for me coming out was to try to fix me. She is sending mixed signals, as always. Her words were: "putting those pins isn't very wise. Can you even fight? Exactly." Like bro??? She isn't trying to talk to me about it, to have a peaceful conversation. She just attacks me with those ice cold statements and calls it a day. She doesn't fucking care if I get beaten up. If I got beaten up she would obliviously blame me. How the fuck am I supposed to feel safe with her? Not to mention accepted. I really fucking wanna chop off my boobs, hair and get most gnc partner imaginable just to piss her off. Let her be uncomfortable. Fuck her. Fuck her and her bigotry.

Really guys, because if this was about my safety she would not make me feel like shit, ashamed of wanting to express myself, of being proud.

[slowandsteddie]

Claudia Henderson and Her (Two) Boys

Link to Part One

Link to AO3

I don’t really have a preamble here. Just know that I am incredibly happy to have this one off my WIP list. I’ll probably do a part three at some point where I focus more on her story, but I need to knock some other stuff out first. I never realized how much we are starved for Claudia content until I started trying to write some.

Steve talks about the night that his mother died in this one. Tread carefully if that’s sensitive content for you but you want to read anyway.

2,242 words.

“You never really explained how you got those scars.” Claudia said softly.

She walked into the kitchen and set her bags down on the counter. While that wasn’t the most correct greeting with Eddie sitting across the table from Steve, it did go to show that she saw the guy with matching scars as part of the family. She had been dating his uncle long enough, in any case, to have claimed him as one of her boys.

“Protecting Dustin.” Steve said after a moment.

She ignored the fact that his face went through a lot of emotions over that one, like he couldn’t decide what he was allowed to say to her. She knew there was a cover up of sorts and lots of NDA’s that he had to sign. But surely he could tell her something.

“And, who was protecting you?”

His eyes flicked to Eddie and she noticed the way that both of them blushed. It warmed her heart to know that they were safe with each other, but she’d let them admit what she already figured out in their own time.

—

“She, uh. She caught him cheating on her.” Steve said suddenly.

She sat down the plate that she had been washing, and turned off the faucet after rinsing the soap off her gloves. Claudia turned around to look at Steve. It had been years, and this was the first time that he had talked about it. That night. She didn’t say a word, just watched him as he watched the table.

“She was so calm about it until the other lady left, you know?” His voice caught. “She was calm when she told him that she was going to file for divorce in the morning and that she was going to take everything. Including me. And I was so happy, you know? Because I realized that she did love me…”

Claudia felt tears well in her eyes, but made no move to wipe them. She didn’t even dare to sniffle, in fear that it would get him to clam up.

“Then there was screaming. So much screaming. A bang, and then silence.” He shuddered. “I called Hop when the screaming started. Let him hear it over the phone, even as I… I couldn’t even breathe, mom.”

The word that slipped out made her heart squeeze painfully. He had never called her that so sincerely before. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms, but refused to move. Not until he was ready to look at her. Now wasn’t the time to potentially startle him.

She wanted to go to him, desperately. Wanted to wrap him up tightly in her arms and remind him that he was safe now. But, Claudia knew that if she made a move before he was ready, Steve would react like a cornered animal. And he deserved to feel safe in his own home, damn it.

“My dad tried to find me. Got more pissed when he couldn’t. I think… I think he would have killed me if he found me.” A humorless laugh passed his lips. “Hop found me, first. Knew the room I liked to hide in from finding me there on previous, uh, house calls.”

Claudia’s heart broke. How many times had Steve needed to call Hop before? How many times had her poor boy had to endure knowing that his mother was hurting and he was too young to do anything but hide and call for help and pray?

Her hand went to her throat because she needed to hold something and she wasn’t about to move right now. Steve needed to talk about that night. It was good for him to let it out instead of keeping it bottled inside. She wasn’t going to do anything to make him clam back up. Not unless he asked her too.

“Hop got me out of there so fast. So fast, mom. I was in his car and he was peeling out before the on duty cops even got there.” His voice cracked. “I heard a gunshot and I swear he just drove faster. I never really knew what it was like to feel safe with an adult before, you know?”

Steve had to stop to breathe. To gather himself. Neither one of them acknowledged the tears sliding down his face.

“I was twelve and terrified. I knew that Hop would come when I called. Kind of his job, you know? But I never would have thought that he would…you know, uh… Get me out of there himself and promise me a safe place to stay.” A shuddery breath passed his lips. “He was right, by the way. You are safe. And I’d really love for you to hug me right now, mom. Please.”

That was all Claudia needed to hear. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her boy up in her arms so tight that she could feel his heart pounding as he hugged her just as tight. He was shaking so badly as she whispered soothing words against his ear. He was taller than her, but it was easy to get those gentle words right where they needed to be with the way he curled into her.

“You are mine, Steve Henderson. As long as I have air in my lungs, you are safe and have nothing to worry about. Ever.”

“H-Henderson?” He pulled back, then. Not a lot, but enough.

“Yes. You’ve been a Henderson to me since the day you stepped foot in my house.”

“Can… Can we make that my legal last name?”

“We’ll go Monday.”

—

“Five years and you’re finally a Henderson,” Dustin said with the biggest grin that she had ever seen.

That really did say something because he had this habit of somehow smiling with his entire face when he was genuinely excited. And that happened a lot.

“Ew. The same last name as you? What was I thinking?” Steve teased while pulling him closer. He yanked off his hat and messed up his curls, his fingers not tangling for once. “Nice! You actually brushed it this time.”

“I’ll have you know I did no such thing. This is from when I tricked you into brushing my hair for me last night.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re telling me that you didn’t brush your hair this morning? You woke up in plenty of time, I heard Lukas on your walkie-talkie.”

“Why were you eavesdropping?”

“One. Your friends are loud. Two, don’t change the subject on me.”

That was when Claudia decided to clear her throat. Both boys stopped and looked at her, eyes wide, and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

“Hi, mom,” they said sheepishly.

She held up the envelope. “Steve, you want to do the honors of opening your new documents?”

Steve walked toward her and reached out, delicately taking the envelope from between her fingers before sitting down. Dustin was trying to crowd around him, wanting to be the first to see them with him. She couldn’t help but to smile. Her two boys, brothers in all the ways that mattered.

“Can… Can I wait until Wayne and Eddie get here, too? Want my whole family here for this.”

Her heart swelled with pride and adoration for the teen she had taken in all those nights ago.

“Of course we can wait, baby. Whenever you’re ready.”

Claudia listened as Steve and Dustin went back to the importance of taking care of their hair. She smiled, shook her head, and started putting away the groceries. Usually, she’d ask her boys to help her out. But, Steve seemed to be making headway and she really would love for Dustin to actually brush his hair more than once a week.

She waited for a lull in the heated discussion. “Spaghetti or meatloaf?”

Steve said meatloaf at the same time that Dustin said spaghetti and she was prepared for another argument. But then she heard a cheery “meatloaf!” coming out of Eddie’s mouth as he walked in the front door like he owned the place. Her face broke into a grin, but only because she knew that Wayne wasn’t far behind.

Wayne’s face immediately lit up the second he saw her and it had her blushing like she was still just a school girl. She was almost tempted to try and hide behind her hair, but then she remembered the effort that she had put into the updo and left it alone.

Dusty grumbled and it made her pout at him playfully. “Sorry, baby. You were outvoted, but I’ll make spaghetti when all the leftovers are gone.”

That seemed to appease him for the moment and that was enough for her to start getting all the ingredients together for dinner instead of fretting over her boy. Wayne easily found his way into her space in a helpful way. He did kiss the side of her head when the opportunity arose and Claudia almost squealed over it. Nearly five years and she still got excited over the affection he had to offer.

“Hey, uh. Everyone’s here,” Steve said suddenly.

Claudia nudged Wayne to go take a seat at the table with their boys. She washed her hands before doing the same as she had been messing with raw meat before.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked after a few seconds.

Steve was just staring at the envelope that he had sat on the table after his statement. He cleared his throat.

“I wanted all of my family to be here when I opened it, so I had to wait for Dingus and his uncle to get here.” He cracked a smile.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin. Dingus.” Eddie joking mocked that last word before shuddering.

“Shut up, Ed’s. This is a big moment.” Steve said without any heat. He was too busy grinning.

Claudia smiled, watching the boys bicker.

“Open it, Steve!” Dustin demanded, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly before opening the envelope so carefully. Dustin opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it over the pointed look that Wayne gave him. This was Steve’s moment, Claudia thought, and she was glad that the other adult in the house agreed with her.

He pulled the letter out, carefully unfolding the paper and his eyes scanned the page quickly. His smile just kept getting wider and wider. He turned it around so that everyone could see it when he was finished.

“Officially a Henderson!” He exclaimed and it was met by cheers.

Claudia’s were the loudest of all. While she couldn’t officially adopt the boy who showed up on her doorstep all those years ago, she could give him a family name that doesn’t make him flinch when he hears it. She got up and closed the distance before pulling him into a tight hug that he was quick to return.

It was kind of funny, in a sad sort of way, that Steve couldn’t be adopted because his father, who was in prison, refused to relinquish parental rights — but, they could get his last name changed and it was more or less the same to them.

“I’m so happy,” Claudia murmured against his temple, which she promptly kissed.

That was when the rest of her boys came in to join the hug, effectively squishing Steve into a pile of love and affection that she knew he’d never have to doubt again.

—

Dustin, Steve, and Eddie were all in Steve’s room with some of Dusty’s other friends. They were playing that dice game that she couldn’t seem to understand no matter how much they tried to explain it. What mattered was that there was math and science involved somehow and that they were having fun.

She leaned into Wayne who was sitting beside her on the couch. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she smiled as she settled into him. He placed a kiss on top of her head that left her blushing pretty badly.

He was watching the game with a beer in his other hand. Claudia, meanwhile, had a glass of wine. She was more than content to just sit close and spend time together. Sports was another thing she didn’t know much about. Wayne had tried to explain this game to her and she did get the general idea, but she was never going to be able to remember all of those stats.

“I’m happy for ‘em,” Wayne said at the start of the commercial. “Steve, I mean. He seems so much lighter now that he has your name.”

“I feel like I can breathe easier, now. Like I have some sort of legal claim to him now that we share a last name.” Claudia took a sip of her wine.

Wayne hummed his agreement before taking a drink of his own beer. Apparently it was the last drink because he sat the can on the coffee table and it sounded pretty empty. When he leaned back against the couch, she leaned back into him and rested her hand over his chest.

“I think you should stay tonight,” she said.

Almost like it wasn’t the first time that she invited Wayne into her room while the kids were home. If it shocked him, he didn’t let it show.

“Then I will.”

[spineless-lobster]

So anyways I heard that one of the original design ideas for hades was that they’d run with the idea of heroic nudity often seen in classical art and that all the characters were meant to be fully nude. Every day I mourn that the idea was scrapped (sans aphrodite) so I drew patrochilles and almost passed out

[rawliverandgoronspice]

sssstop!!!!!! assuming ganondorf is a rapist random youtube videos I'm literally eating my own fingers and swallowing the bones whole like one of those weird birds aaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

[emcant]

I think I figured out what I was trying to talk about last night:

I'm really, really nervous about being deliberately misinterpreted. (...she said, to the internet. I'm aware of the irony, but I feel pretty safe in this corner of it.) That's my folks to a t, and once they've made up their minds, there's no discussion of what I actually meant. The worst kind of echo chamber: nuance is not permitted, and only one opinion is allowed. Fear of that gets my goat every time, and always has.

At its mildest, C-PTSD still means turning over the scary time from 20 years ago; part of you got stuck there, after all. I don't know why this particular one stood out, as this was how all of my creative work went:

When the US invaded Iraq, I drew probably the best piece I've ever done: as realistic a rose as a middle schooler could manage, in the American flag colors, with a huge black scissors cutting it from the stem. I turned it in for some assignment and got a good grade so I put it on my wall. I can't emphasize enough how good this thing looked - I really surprised myself.

Anyway, I was also in therapy for what we thought was depression at the time, and there was a specific day on which we'd discuss what my mom could change to help me. I didn't have time to see it, but at some point, she pulled my rose off my wall and used it to derail the meeting. Obviously nothing was working; why did I make a poster about SH and keep it in my room? It's not even remotely about SH, I tried to protest, but she made it clear she'd shut down.

Even now, I'm kind of nervous about how the therapist interpreted that. It's classic My POS Mom, and as an adult I can see exactly what she was doing: power plays. But like. Was there SH inherent in the drawing if I didn't mean to put it there?

And does it matter?

I live a pretty open life now, but there's a lot right under my surface. I think I ultimately do want people prodding at it; I'd do the same anyway. I don't have shame about who I am anymore (and never should have), and haven't considered myself a creator since coming around on that. This feels familiar, but it really is all brand new.

[outtox1cated]

i should be working on those 10 unfinished drawings but i decided to draw this instead because i felt like it. for reasons

[papermint-airplane]

The saga of Laura's right arm 😭

Monday night, I developed a big rash on my right forearm. It was itchy and bumpy and horrible but I didn't think too much of it because I have been going through a horrendous eczema flare up recently so I was just like "ugh another rash to join my collection" and treated it like I do my other breakout sites.

But then the itching kept going. If you've never had eczema before, it itches at first but then it usually stops itching in favor of hurting real bad because your skin is cracking open and bleeding. Fun shit. That didn't happen though. It just kept itching worse and worse and spreading up my arm to the crook of my elbow.

Yesterday, while I was at work, I noticed the bumps were getting bigger and bigger. That's right, your girl had hives. I figured I'd just take a Benadryl and go to bed and be fine the next day. And I was. Kind of. This morning, the itching had stopped and the hives had gone away but MY ENTIRE ARM WAS SWOLLEN. It felt solid and hot and extremely painful. Also the pain wasn't just where the rash had been, it was radiating up my arm and my shoulder was really sore as though I pulled a muscle. Also I felt gross and run down like my body was fighting something off. The swelling was freaking me out so I took two Aleve and I was thinking "if this doesn't do it, I'm going to have to go to urgent care" which I don't want to do because...well...I'm American. You know how healthcare shit is for us. Fortunately the pills did the trick because the swelling is down considerably and so is the soreness. I just don't know what happened in the first place. Did something bite me? Is this an allergic reaction to the ridiculous amount of pollen everywhere? Did I touch something weird at the gas station Monday morning? The fact that it was affecting my entire arm is really worrying me. Hopefully whatever it was is gone now but I am stocking up on Benadryl just in case.

If you don't hear from me by tomorrow, my arm probably fell off. 😭😭

[embracingwild]

grief is just like... you're doing a bit better, finding happy moments that fill you with light even if they only last a minute or two... and then you want to tell your person about those moments.... and you're right back where you started. again and again.

[the-kr8tor]

Happy fluffy Friday!! Can I request the Hobie and the reader having to take Billie and Ramona to run errands?

Thank you!

S'cute!! Thank you for requesting, hope you like it 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, Twin AU, cw food mentions, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Crisps me up, Mac” Hobie's hand is reaching behind him, fingers flexing for the twin's snack, his eyes fixated on the road ahead.

The sedan rattles as it hits a speed bump. It's been the Brown family car since the girls were born. Hobie traded his old band van for it so the girls would have somewhere to comfortably sit from the hospital. You still remember the day you brought them home, Hobie practiced with a doll weeks before so he knows how to work a car seat even before they arrived. He's now an expert in handling the contraption.

The seats still smell like baby powder, under the powdery fragrance lies the cheesy aroma of their snack that has made you crack open the window a smidge.

Billie slaps her dad's hand away, the bag crinkles in her tiny hands. “Not crisps, dad! They're cheesy pretzels!”

You watch the interaction in the rearview mirror with a smile. Mona giggles next to her sister, their car seats full of stickers they got from family and their dad. Both girls are still in their gymnastics leotards, oversized shirts and jackets over the sparkly spandex. They look absolutely adorable, you just want to reach behind to squeeze their cheeks but you fight the indulgence.

“Alright, pretzel me up you gremlin. It's payment for driving you” He doesn't relent, a teasing smile on his lips.

“We're almost there, dad” despite her disapproval, Billie still gives him a handful of cheesy pretzels.

Hobie gobbles it up in one bite, reaching behind again to wipe his hand clean on Billie's shirt. She squeals, laughing and kicking at his hand. Her tiny shoe falls off, thudding softly on the car floor.

“Daddy’s driving, Bee!” Mona grabs her sister by the arm. “Mum, stop them”

“Okay, that's enough, you two can goof off in the store.”

Hobie sticks his tongue out at the rearview mirror, Billie does the same, her scrunched face making you laugh.

Hobie's cheesy coated hand slyly snakes to yours, locking your hand in place.

You give him the stink eye. He laughs, bringing your hand closer to him, pressing a quick kiss on your knuckles.

“What? You've got wet wipes with you right?” He says in-between chuckles.

You only stare at him with your eyes narrowed, pretending to be annoyed as you feel the stickiness of the cheese on your palm. Good thing you actually have those wipes.

Hobie parks the car, it makes a rumbling sound as he turns off the ignition.

“Blinky sounds like he's hungry” Mona comments, the twins dubbed the car ‘blinky’ since they could talk, but it's only making it hard for you and Hobie to finally get the car replaced.

“Yeah, he's hungry for some petrol.” Hobie unclips his seatbelt before unclipping yours and stealing a kiss right under your nose.

“Hey,” you beam at him, “I'll get you later, you'll see”

“Lookin' forward to it” he gets out of the car with a smile that could rival the sun.

Hobie gets Billie out of her car seat, pausing to put her shoe back on, he makes the signature dad groan when he lifts her up.

“You smell like cheese, mac. Maybe we should switch you to cheese and Mona could have mac instead, huh?” He looks at Billie like she's the most precious cheese coated jewel in the world.

“Okay! If Mon says yes.”

They both look at you and Mona. You're just about releasing her, having a harder time than Hobie with the car seat.

Ramona looks at them with a pout. “Mum can't get me out again”

“You need help, love?” Hobie asks.

“Nope,” you curse whoever made the straps so complicated for your hands. “Anddd got it!”

“In record time too” he teases, taking each girls' backpacks from the floor with ease. Show off.

“Good job, mummy” Mona murmurs, placing a cheese filled kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, baby”

With each girl in tow, you place them both in a cart. You and Hobie quickly learned that letting them roam isn't such a good idea when either girl suddenly wanders around, because for sure the other would follow.

The wheels squeak, the handle of the grocery cart is cold against your palms. Hobie, who has the foresight, takes the cart from you, looping his arm around yours so he's still technically holding your hand without taking his hands off the precious cart that holds his babies. And at the same time shielding you from the wretched cold.

“Daddy, cereal!” In some twin telepathy, both girls yell the exact same thing.

“We'll get to that aisle, thing one and two. We still need to get other stuff first, yeah?” He bends at the waist to wipe a powder of cheese on Mona's cheek.

She scrunches her nose. “Thank you, dad”

“So polite,” he looks at her like she hung the stars, all cheese and stardust. “Where'd you get that from huh?”

“Mummy” Mona doesn't miss a beat. You snicker from the side.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, the girls giggle at their dad making a funny face.

You seize the opportunity in the empty soup aisle. Kissing the corner of his lips, you smile into the quick peck.

“Had to do it or your face will get stuck like that.”

“Got me good, gorgeous” he grins, his eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Would you still love me if my face stays forever like this?” Hobie makes the face again, the girls guffaw like it's the best comedy special ever.

You whisper, “that's what the mask is for, Spiderman”

“So rude, I can't believe you've done this, in front of our children too.” He feigns hurt, clutching at his chest. “I hope Mona didn't get that from you”

You fake a gasp.

The girls fully know their father's antics and how you two weirdly flirt with each other. Billie impatiently taps Hobie's hand while Mona yawns from her seat.

“Let's go, Mon’s sleepy” Billie's tapping gets faster with every heart filled stare you throw at each other. “Stop with the kissy faces! We're tired!”

“Alright, alright! How impatient, you know you got that from your dad” you wink at Billie.

—

“One only, choose wisely” Hobie holds up two different boxes of sugar filled cereal in front of the girls.

You watch as their eyes flick from one pink box to a brown box with a bunny mascot on it. It's like they're watching a tennis match.

They converse amongst themselves, the council of cereal you and Hobie once called.

“This is going to take a while, d’you want to get the detergent while the council's deliberating? I'll stay here with them and be the referee.”

“Sure, tell me their reasoning this time” you squeeze his bicep, smooching his jaw.

“‘course. No stopovers at the candle aisle!” he half yells while you're walking away.

You give him a thumbs up, winking at him.

“Your mum's definitely going to sniff some candles.”

“We got it, dad! We want the chocolate–” Billie starts.

“Strawberry one–what?” Mona continues.

Hobie has a thought to just buy both boxes, but he doesn't want them to get spoiled too much. So he lets them argue, huffing out air when they get particularly catty with each other. He's definitely gonna have to be a referee.

—

You carry Billie right at the end of the register, her eyes are bright and curious while watching the cashier scan the items incredibly fast. She holds onto your hand as you face her towards what appears to her as the greatest show ever. She's getting heavier and heavier but you'll be damned if you stop carrying your daughters. Even if it means breaking your back.

Snuggling close to her neck, she giggles, her bubble jacket crinkles as you rub your chin atop her shoulder.

“Mum!”

“Okay, okay I'll stop, for a kiss?” you face your cheek to her side. She places a sticky kiss, leaning away with a smack of lips. “Thank you”

“You're welcome” she gets back to observing the laser, her eyes transfixed, ears perking at every beep.

You watch as Mona sneaks a chocolate bar to the lineup, she barely reaches the top of the counter, trying her best not to get noticed by her dad, her eyes flicking from him to you. He notices alright, but Hobie lets it slide, he even sneaks his own candy bar for Billie. You pretend you do not see. They deserve the treat, you both think, just for making huge progress with their cartwheels during class.

While Hobie places the groceries in the trunk, you place both girls in their car seats securely.

“What do you guys want for dinner?” You ask as you lock Billie's seatbelt in place.

“I want spaghetti” Mona yawns in the middle of her sentence.

Billie nods, fighting to keep her eyes closed. “With extra meatballs please”

“Okay, will you help mum and dad like last time?” They slowly nod, rubbing at their sleepy eyes.

They jump slightly when Hobie closes the trunk, “sorry” you hear his muffled apology.

Driving home was much quieter, both girls are sleeping soundly in their car seats, head lolling to the side. Mona embraces her blanket even asleep while Billie’s foot twitches.

“They even sleep like you,” you softly say.

“Hmm? What do you mean? You sleep like that too. Your foot twitches like that”

“And you cuddle me like that”

“Told you, we'd make a perfect blend”

“Yeah, they're perfect” you lean to the side to kiss his cheek, careful not to mess up his driving.

He hums, wishing to kiss you back. Maybe he can pull over real quick to kiss you properly this time.

[likelyamused]

Beginning / Previous / Next

Transcript below the cut.

Max: This is a nice spot.

Celia: I feel grounded here. Anywhere in nature really, but I don’t know... This feels sheltered and safe.

Max: Hm… I get it. I like open spaces. My favorite place to feel grounded is early in the morning, alone on the beach. I never got to experience that before I came here. I was not disappointed.

Celia: You like it here?

Max: I do.

Celia: Did you like it in Newcrest?

Max: No. Never did. 

Celia: Really? You don’t have any happy childhood memories from that place? 

Max: I do have happy memories, but not in Newcrest, no.

Celia: What was so terrible about it? 

Max: I guess there’s nothing really wrong with the place. It’s the people I just can’t stand.

Celia: Did you always live there or…? 

Max: Pretty much. I lived a few towns over with my grand-mother for a while. 

Celia: You really don’t like to talk about your past, do you? Did you think I wouldn't notice you changing the subject every time it pops up?

Max: [Chuckles] Ok, you got me.

Celia: We don't have to talk about things you don't want to. It just feels like there's a lot that's off limits and we end up talking about me instead.

Max: It's ok. We can talk about some of it. My parents are... complicated. We don’t get along at all. From as far as I can remember, I was on and off under the care of my grandmother. Sometimes for a few weeks, others for a few months at a time. Until I was 8 and she became my caretaker. It was hard on her. She worked well over her retirement years and she didn’t have much. But living with her... it was the best time of my life. She made time for homework, school events, hockey practices. She brought me camping, showed me how to cook and build a fire.

Celia: Sounds like she’s a great woman and a great parent.

Max: She was, wasn’t she? It was such a shock when she got sick. One winter, she got what looked like pneumonia and the doctor did an X-Ray of her chest. They found a mass on her lung. They started treatment immediately but the cancer spread too quickly. She died six months later. Then, I had to go back to my parents in Newcrest.

Celia: I’m so sorry for your loss. 

Max: It’s fine. It’s been years now. 

Celia: How old were you when she died?

Max: I was 12.

Max: See, I don’t like to talk about my past because it gets me that look, and I hate it.

Celia: Look? What look? I don’t have a look.

Max: You do. It’s that look people get when they think I’m weak or broken or something, and that I need someone to take care of me. I’m fine! I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone.

Celia: That’s not true. We all need someone for something at some point in time. You’re not weak or broken or whatever just because you’ve gone through hardship. It’s how you process through it that shows who you are. Maybe that look you hate actually means I care about you, and if I’m that person you need for something, I’m here for you. Just a thought.

Max: I'll consider it.

-Ding-

Text messages:

Mom: Where are you? It’s 20 minutes past curfew.

Celia: Sorry mom. We were talking. Lost track of time. We’re by the bridge. I’ll be home in 5.

Celia: It’s later than I thought. I have to get back home.

Max: Okay, I’ll walk you.

Celia: It’s close by.

Celia: We're here.

Max: Thanks for showing me around. I had a great time.

Celia: Yeah, me too. I better go.

Max: Yeah...I think you should.