#sorry for the impromptu therapy session

[kay-claire]

Feeling in my head tonight, because I'm jealous of people who have fun friend groups that do fun things. One of the things I was really trying to do this year was make new friends, and I didn't super manage to do that. Like, I talked to a lot of new people, and I hanged out with some Instagram mutuals for the first time ever, and like I THINK I'm friends with my tattoo artists, but in like a parasocial way where I only ever actually hang out with them when I'm paying them to do tattoos for me (but like. the last tattoo I went to with P we sat and chatted together for like an hour after she finished my tattoo. And the last tattoo I did with J, she said her and her apprentice were going to Portugal in October next year and kind of off-handedly said I could go with them if I wanted - like. That's not NOT being friends, right?)

Don't get my wrong. I had a great fucking year. I started on testosterone. I got a bunch of new tattoos. I tabled at a comic convention again for the first time since 2019, and went on two overseas trips. And I forced myself to try and go out and do new things more, and went to sketchbook meetups and a trans picnic and started doing pottery classes. But I forced myself to go out and do those things in the hopes of making friends, and I didn't really achieve that goal.

I don't have a lot of friends. I have one online friend who I chat to almost every day (that god for them or most days the only people I'd talk to are my parents), and I have one friend who I only see in person maybe 4 times a year, but we don't chat much between those times. I have a friend who moved overseas and I visited her in November, and we chat on phone calls maybe 3 times a year. I have a handful of people who's stuff I comment on on Insta and who, if I took the initiative, would probably say yes to making plans with me if I worked up the courage to ask. And I have a bit of a bookstagram community. So no matter what my brain tells me, I'm not completely alone and hopeless. I do have some friends.

But like my cousin somehow just found a book club on Instagram earlier this year and now she's such good friends with those people, and she goes on outings with them multiple times a month and have movie nights and have an active group chat. And like, fuck if that's not what I want. But I just would love to have QUEER friends with similar interests who live in the same city as me, and want to do things like sleepovers and movies and lunch dates, and I just can't seem to figure out how.

I kept going to all these meetups trying to make friends, and I'd have some good conversations with people and have fun, but then I'd go home and second guess everything I said, and be frustrated that I don't know how to go from nice conversation to actual friend, exchange phone numbers, actually hang out together one-on-one. And I left all these meetups feeling frustrated that I couldn't figure out how to do that. And like sometime last month I had this epiphany where I thought, maybe the goal shouldn't be to make friends. Maybe the goal should just be to have a nice conversation with someone.

And changing that perspective HAS helped, because I went from being sad every time I went out trying to make friends to just being happy I talked to someone. So I'm glad for that. But like, it doesn't change the fact that I do still want to have friends - and not to underplay the kind of friendships I currently have! But like I just want to make some friends or one good friend who like, makes time for me, and invites me to do stuff, instead of me always being the invite friend. Because I feel like there are planner friends, and there are going along with the plan friends, and I am definitely the second type. But the problem is everyone I have made friends with are ALSO the second type, so I have to step up and be the planner friend or else I will never see those friends ever. And I would love to just make a friend who can be the planner friend.

I try to just be grateful for the relationships I do have, and to not get into my head with thoughts like "I'm not a nice enough person to have friends" or "every friend I have had has gotten sick of me and left, so I should probably just stop inflicting myself on other people" and "the reason you can't get past one conversation with people is because you're actually a terrible oversharer who only talks about yourself and what you think of as a nice conversation other people found really off-putting but were just trying to be nice". But like FUCK if those thoughts aren't hard to push away.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | The day has come when you finally return from your suspension, and Eddie is there to provide the detailed account to the tribulations that occurred, but one thing is to be noted: Eddie Munson stayed by your side through it all.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, therapy, bullying, sexist slut shaming, brief allusions to an eating disorder, slight mentions of unwarranted touching, strained parental relationship, harassment, minimal violence, mentions of domestic abuse, and mentions and childhood neglect and abuse.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Watched Harry Potter during writing, so I inserted a reference that totally didn’t exist in the timeline, lol. But I do wonder, do you think Eddie Munson would have liked Harry Potter, and what house is he in?! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

“I’m tellin’ you, Ms. K, it was like straight out of a movie!”

Ms. K, he had gotten comfortable. It was good. Great even. Because that Thursday morning, the entire hour-long session consisted of I don't know’s, maybe’s, and I guess’. And yes, Ms. Kelly is a licensed counselor, but she’s also human, and it was starting to frustrate her a bit. Just a teeny tiny bit. But it was progress, nonetheless, and she had let Eddie Munson know that he had her full attention and that there was no judgment. And for that, he was forever grateful. Now, she’d never compare nor expose the intimate details of other students’ tribulations to anyone, but my god, was Eddie Munson a unique character in comparison to the others. There was a switch in him, and evident one. Because that impromptu talk that Thursday morning, she had seen the hardening exterior of Eddie Munson that he casted on the daily basis. No conversation. Blank face. Vehement resentment to vulnerability. But she had studied this field for six years of her life, and she took notice of the yearn in his eyes that was telling him to just speak. Talk. Let it all out. And fortunately it came. By Friday afternoon, he had detailed the events of his life, the weakness of his mother, the ruffian character of his father, and the mistakes of his life as a result. You. Though, he chose to refrain from using your name. There was still some slight embarrassment from telling a school faculty member about his crush. The last thing he needed was Ms. Kelly grinning across the parking lot to him when you returned. And by Monday afternoon—today, the day you came—he’d spoken to her like she was his best friend.

“Was it now?” There was a lingering smile on her face, as Eddie confided about his day, completely relaxed and comfortable with speaking. No tense shoulders. No rigid posture. No nasty tone. “In what ways, Eddie?”

“Well, you should have seen the way she walked in. I mean, my god! Complete badass- oh, I’m so sorry,” He corrected his word choice, “I mean, like totally cool, like she didn’t care what anyone had to say.”

If you knew how Eddie was describing your return to Hawkins High, you would have wished it to be that glamorous. But as it’s been established before, reality is the biggest pain in the ass, and you were terrifyingly panicking in the front seat of your father’s BMW.

Ms. Kelly chuckled at his revelation. “I’ll take your word for it, Eddie.” She nodded. “But while I’m sure this particular person made their grand entrance, I want to know about you. How did seeing them make you feel after taking that needed time apart? Take me back to this morning.”

“Okay.” Eddie agreed. “Uh, this morning…”

-

This morning.

The crowded parking lot had been filling with the cars and bikes of students loitering before the shrilling ring of the commencing bell. Yearbooks. Yearbooks were everywhere, in the hands of teenagers eager to have their friends commemorate the ending year with the valued signature of friendship and camaraderie. It fucking disgusted him. Everyone smiling about as if they didn’t cast out the one person who dedicated their high school years to taking the very photos everyone was gushing about: the Homecoming dance, the Winter Formal, spirit week. Everything. Every memory that made the school year so great, captured by your work, yet everyone was seemingly ready to throw you away because of him. 

It was why he was camping out in the grand lavishness of his van. Black Sabbath was yelling beyond the walls of his vehicle, prompting to receive the dirty looks he’d been all too accustomed to, as he sat back with a lit cigarette hanging from his dry lips. Grant Goodman and Gareth Emerson had been stationed by the bike racks, where Jeff Best had just arrived on his trusty wheels. His friends. Conversed like normal, probably waiting for the arrival of Eddie, as they did everyday, but Eddie had no plans of coming out of his car. Yet, at least. Looking a little to the left, he took notice of Dustin Henderson spewing nonsense to the once infamous "King" Steve Harrington, who once actually bumped into Eddie’s shoulder in the hallway and threw him a dirty look during their shared years. He always wondered what Dustin Henderson saw in “The Hair,” maybe he’s changed? I mean, he does seem to be the personal chauffeur of Robin Buckley, who he was once in a band with before he abruptly quit after seeing the mandatory outfits. And she was always cool. Weird, but cool. Mike Wheeler had joined their conversation, alongside Lucas Sinclair, which is when he caught wind of Nancy Wheeler rushing into school with her quiet friend, he believed her name was Barb Holland. Looking at them walk away, Eddie wondered what would be the possibility of convincing Nancy Wheeler into letting you rejoin the Yearbook Committee. Surely with the way sales were booming, more help was needed, right? And she had to feel bad for what unfolded for you, right? And with the quickest glimpse away, he followed the shy figure of Chrissy Cunningham, who walked with her books held tightly, and a talkative Jessica Lewis trailing behind, seemingly attempting to question the cheerleader. Because when Eddie looked to the other side, he saw Jason Carver longing for his leaving girlfriend with a look of dejection, and Andy McAvoy on an endeavor to hype him up. Trouble in paradise? Eddie Munson could sit and ponder on the endless possibilities of the lives of his peers, but his meaningless thoughts were adjourned under the sudden stop and stare of every student.

You. 

“Hey, look at- look at me, damn it!” Your eyes peeled from your entangled fingers that sat trembling on your shaking legs, and looked over to his stern glare. He pierced his disappointment into you, drilling into the anxiety of already returning to school after everything that had occurred. “You go in there and stir up any more trouble with your school work or that filth I caught you with, you’re dead. You understand me, young lady? Huh?!”

“Yes, dad.” You mustered up a whisper. 

“Go. Don’t be fucking late and ruin for your future more.” Your hand clutched the door handle, and for a second you stopped. God knows what would happen when everybody saw you. Monday’s cafeteria scene didn’t exactly leave everyone with the greatest impression of you and you knew exactly how high school students operated in a small town like Hawkins. You were branded with a title, a degrading one that was farther from the truth, but what good does the truth do when claiming that the sweetheart of a cheerleader with a bright future of success gets fucked by the satanic cultist in return for a favor is far more entertaining for the gossiping lives of high school teenager? By now, you were either pregnant with the devil’s baby or coked up with drugs on the side of the street, or both. People had their bets, the more twisted the better. But not a single thought of your pain. Not a single thought that you were hurting at the sheer size of all that went wrong, just because you were simply being nice. Because thinking of the repercussion of their words took the fun out of everything. And to them, people like you don’t deserve the time of day. You were like Eddie Munson now. And Eddie Munson deserved the pain of the world because he was… different. That was Hawkins, Indiana. That was reality. You begrudgingly pulled the handle. “Remember,” your father stopped you, “those kids say anything, just remember you put that on yourself, and you better take it as a lesson. Go.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. His words were his words, not the world’s. You had shed enough tears over the years of childhood, and his reign over you wasn’t going to continue. You could repeat that mantra over and over, and maybe in the long run it would finally cement that his words were not the truth. But for now, you could only pretend it didn’t hurt until it would eventually not. But inside, there was a little girl asking what was so wrong with her that her daddy couldn’t do the one innate job that came with parenthood: to love her. You wouldn’t know it, but a seven-year-old Eddie Munson was wondering the exact same thing. 

You got out with a slam to his face that verbalized all the screaming you couldn’t do. Your eyes met his through the window, and it was different. What once used to be cordial civility, where he asked and you did, had now entered its endgame. Something so severe it lacked the chance of recovery. And maybe that was okay. Maybe that was for the best. Because like he did with his emotions, he ran. And the screeches of his tires left the remnants of a relationship that was once so profoundly beautiful when your tiny fist curled around his finger. This would be the end between you and your father. And you were ready to accept that. 

You blinked any tears away, as you stood suffocated by the exhaustion of his BMW, leaving you vulnerable in the empty parking spot. Because when you peered it up, your chest heaved at the sudden realization that everyone was staring at you. Glares. Whispers. Snickers. The pointing. The so obvious pointing that your peers were conspiring against you. The ones who once smiled and waved at you. The ones who once greeted you so kindly. All of them, whispering and pointing followed by their teasing laugh just at the mere sight of you. 

Everything was bombarding you so fast.

The clamminess of your hands. The constriction of your throat. The pounding of your heart. The deafening ringing in your ears. The stinging of your nails, as your hands balled so tightly against themselves, but you deserved the crescent shape burns to your palms, you deserved the pain, because you put that on yourself, you better take it as a le- no.

For years, you endured and cemented the hateful words of your father as veracity, letting his speech be the reason why so badly ached inside to perfect every endearing mistake about yourself. Thursday, you scrubbed your body with the refreshing scents of your shower routine and ate full dinners. Friday, you purged your room of any remnants of your old life—polaroids, scrapbooks, notes, memorabilia—discarded to let you know it was okay to move on. Saturday, you wake up in the early hours of the morning, long before the sun rose, and followed the path Eddie Munson once rescued from—onto the roof, over the trimming, down the trellis—and you ran, ran down the dark streets of your neighborhood until you excreted all your pain of your body through the glorious sweats of a morning run. Sunday, you swore to never accept your father’s words ever again.

You were you, and that was perfectly okay. You make mistakes, but that’s what makes you profoundly magnificent. You saw that in others, and you were going to see that in yourself. 

Eddie’s head whipped in the direction of others, and through the smudges of his dirty window, his eyes melted at your frozen stature. This is what he was waiting for. He jumped out of his car, the rattle of his door echoing, following the slam he didn’t intend to be so harsh. But it got your attention from across the parking lot, and that’s all that mattered. 

You met his kind eyes, ones so round and deep, you couldn’t believe they once glared at you with such seethe just last week. But they weren’t now. In fact, they creased at the corners, as his small smile plumped his cheeks. And though small, that smile was the very reassurance you needed. He looked great- healthy, even. The dark circles of his eyes were not bruised mauve from a drunken haze of staying up all night and hungover throughout the afternoon. No, they were merely there from the natural pigmentation of his skin, as the scleras of his eyes shined white with innocence. His cheeks were rosy and full, letting you know he’d stuffed himself with some needed food outside a six-pack of beer. And though it was a habit he knew many were not fond of which honestly made him want to do it even more, he plucked the smoking cigarette from his lips and put it out with the step of his foot. You recall the moment from early September, long before you knew Eddie Munson, when he stalked up to you and Chrissy with the biggest grin on his snickering face asking if you had a lighter on hand. You, the goody two-shoes cheerleader who had the healthiest set of lungs, as the idea of nicotine made your nose scrunch with grimace. You and Chrissy Cunningham would have been the last people on Earth to have a lighter on hand. While you answered him with a shake to your head, Eddie ticked his tongue in disappointment, but before he could begrudgingly leave, you softly spoke, “Be sure to be careful, don’t want you getting sick from those. That’d be awful.” You had heard the news of what led down the road of cigarette smoking. And while Eddie would have typically told anyone who tried to place their unwarranted input on his life choices to fuck off, his grin merely grew ten times its size at your consideration, “‘Preciate that, sweetheart, I’ll keep that in mind.” Eddie felt like his heart was going to lunge out after you as you walked away. You didn’t know it, but Eddie had driven himself up a wall debating on whether or not to ask you that simple question. You were always just so breathtakingly mesmerizing, it was nerve-racking. 

Yes, Eddie Munson has had a long time crush on you.

Your nails released from their stabbing hold into your palms, as your hands relaxed. Eddie saw your softening composure and sighed with relief, seeing that torturing breath that nestled in your throat finally escape into the spring air. As much as Eddie Munson would have loved to tell his fellow schoolmates to fuck themselves and leave you alone, he knew his interference was the last thing you would have wanted. So in the most gentle way possible, he subtly threw you a thumbs up with a stupid grin that made the twenty-year-old metalhead look like a jolly child trying to cheer up their friend.

But it made you quietly giggle, and that’s all he cared about. 

You readjusted the straps to your backpack, and took a deep breath. And though you were internally screaming inside, you strided past the gossiping clumps of judgmental teenagers, and their choice to deduce you into degrading, misogynistic names held no merit against your faux confidence. Head held high with a stern gaze to the school, you walked through their whispers with a straight face to let them know they couldn’t get to you. And it was convincing enough. Because Eddie Munson was bouncing on the balls of his feet with bursting gasconade at your powerful strut. Eddie wishes he was half as cool as you. 

-

“So, yeah, it, uh, it made me really happy. Like, just seeing them being so… okay with themselves and not taking any of the crap that other people were saying was great. I, uh, I loved seeing that.” He lips smiled tightly into a thin line to restrain from busting out into a hearty grin, though Ms. Kelly could see it in his face just how important this moment was for him. 

“That’s wonderful, Eddie. So the break was good?” She leaned over her desk to ask.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded his head. “Um, I’ll be honest, at first- that first day I really wanted to call them to let them know I was taking the steps to be, um, y’know, better, but I figured them seeing me now would have been more important, I guess.”

“Yes.” Ms. Kelly agreed. “That was a good call on your part, Eddie.”

“Yeah, so as much as I wanted to just talk to them, I made sure I didn’t.” He assured. “And I really liked that I held back. Um,” Eddie nervously chuckled, as he picked the threads of his jeans, “would it be stupid to say that I’m proud of myself for that? That I was actually able to work on my self-control and boundaries even if it was just something small?” 

“Of course, not, Eddie!” Ms. Kelly flashed him a kind smile, which had Eddie shyly grinning. “That’s an incredible thing to make progress on, and nothing in your journey will ever be too small to recognize, okay? I want you to understand that. I know it’s difficult to acknowledge these steps as a win, and I know it’s even harder granting yourself the right to be proud, because you believe you’ve committed too many wrong to ever feel for yourself, but remember Eddie, those hesitations are merely the result of the words that were placed upon you with intent to hurt you, and they don’t dictate your life. You do. Don’t give those words the power to hurt you. You deserve to be proud.”

A fervent nod to his head proffered the understanding that he was taking in her truth with deep care. The insistent curses of his dad and the bullshit rhetoric of students or the townspeople held no value to the words in which Eddie thought of himself. And if he wanted to be proud, he should be proud. 

“Yeah, um, I am proud of myself- I know it’s like the bare minimum, but I’m happy.” He smiled. “And um, it was pretty amazing knowing that they were in the same boat as me, like, while I’m trying to get better, they are, too. I know that they struggle with what other people say about them, too, and seeing them walk in with all the confidence in the world was really… it was quite literally the greatest thing ever. I’m happy they’re getting happy; that we’re working on ourselves.”

“And how’s that going with you specifically?” Ms. Kelly attentively asked. “What else have you done to progress?”

“Well, um, I took your advice and opened up more with my uncle.” He huffed a laugh at the memory. “You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that I was basically in therapy.”

She questioned, “Was he angry?” 

“No, not angry. More, like, ‘I didn’t even know this kid knew what therapy was’ kinda shock. He definitely didn’t expect it when I sat him down, but he’s a good man, and he, uh, listened to me. The whole time.”

“And how was it?”

“Hard and strange.” He gulped. “See, my uncle, he’s endured a lot for me; he’s an old man who works his ass off to pay the bills and provide basic, crappy dinners and I- I honestly feel really fuc- bad. I feel really bad. That, y’know, he has to do all that stuff for me when he didn’t even want to, like, have kids in the first place.” Eddie sighed. “And, truthfully, I just didn’t want to burden him with anymore of my problems, like I did to my mom and dad. I’ve already caused enough issues with the cafeteria incident, not graduating twice, getting in trouble with the cops. I just- I just know he has to be tired of me, so I was scared to talk to him.”

“Eddie,” Ms. Kelly grabbed his attention, “do you feel that if you hadn’t acted a certain way, talked a certain way, your parents wouldn’t have… touched you as a child?”

His once relaxed composure stiffened under her sudden interrogation. His eyes bolted around the room, trying to refrain his mind from wandering into the suffocating memory of his chubby hands spilling the last of the juice that was supposed to last his family for the rest of week all over the floor. He wanted to be a simple baby who was capable of listening to his mommy's words and just wait a minute, but his tiny throat was hurting from being dry and mommy had forgotten about him when daddy came home screaming about the place being a mess. His little mouth gasped in fear, running to the counter, his short arms reached and reached and his efforts had to turn to opening the bottom cabinet that was a couple inches above the floor and provided him the extra height to finally retrieve the paper. Feet pattering back to his proliferating spill, his hands haphazardly ripped a multitude of sheets and threw them to the floor. But the juice was not absorbing as fast as he wanted, and his tiny body was beating with terror, as daddy’s voice was booming through the walls of their house as he yelled at mommy in their room. He whimpered in panic as he tried to clean and clean, but the $3 pack of store brand tissue merely bled through, the jumble ball of paper causing his sticky mess to spread. It was to no avail, and daddy soon marched his way back to the kitchen. The second Eddie heard the towering footsteps, he peered up through his neglected hair that barely made life visible over his eyes, and saw the big scary face that hurt him every day. Eddie cleared his throat and murmured, “I don’t know.”

She signed a sympathetic breath, “What your parents did to you as a child has nothing to do with who you are or your personality, and it is absolutely not your fault.” Ms. Kelly spoke her declaration with firm gentleness. “You, Eddie, were not and will not be a burden in anyone’s life. You were dealt a misfortunate hand in life, but you were nowhere near the cause of it. You merely survived.”

Rubbing his eyes before his tears could soak his lashes, Eddie sighed, and sat back in his chair quietly. “I, uh, I said it was strange, and it was, because my uncle and I don’t really talk of that matter. When I was younger, he’d tell me it was okay to just let that life go, that I was okay with him, and it did help in that moment. But I kinda feel like it just gradually grew to become this big elephant in the room that we always avoided for the sake of peace. But during the weekend, I finally got the balls to just do it, and well, it was definitely uncomfortable but in a good way. I told him what was happening with me and how I felt, and he did the same, which honestly I wasn’t expecting. I-it was good. Great even.”

“These moments of clarity are valuable, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly spoke. “These times when speaking is all you do with another person are important to have and the uncomfortableness, the rawness, of it all paves the way to recovery. And it may be disturbing, absolutely not linear, but these are the steps that matter. And you’re doing an amazing job, Eddie.”

“Th-thank you, really, Ms. K.” He nodded his head gratefully. “I, uh, I always knew I talked a lot, my friends always teasin’ me about it, but I’m really enjoying it. Talking these things out with you and others.” He smiled.

“I enjoy it, too. Wouldn’t have spent thousands studying it just to hate it.” She joked, which gave him room for a small chuckle. “Want to tell me about the rest of your day?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sat up, wiping the sweat from his palms onto the worn denim of jeans, “lunch was pretty great, too, so basically…”

-

That confident facade of yours had broken in the midst of third period.

There was only so much scrutinizing stares you could handle from students- even staff who had sipped their coffee and gossiped about the day of your demise, discussing how their perfect student fell under the wrong influence right under their noses. Having to hear their patronizing “We’re here to help you catch up after your… circumstance” that was seemingly always followed by a grimacing look casted by a fake smile of sympathy that made your mouth want to heat up and hurl the stew that was your breakfast. 

But third period had been different. Worse. 

Unlike your previous classes—where you’d been indebted for having sane teachers who let you choose your own seating, prompting you into picking the back desk in the furthest row that provided some shielding to the obtrusive scowls—your third period had not been granted that same privilege, as your third period had Mr. Fitzgerald holding the reins to the functionality of the class. A bitter bitter old man who denounced the teenagers of Hawkins High as the devil incarnate, you should have seen the sheer look of terror and disgust when he first came face-to-face with the Eddie Munson. 

And that infamous look matched that of the look he gave you when you stepped into his AP Calculus class that midday for the first time in a week. “Ms. Y/N, back already?” He stopped you the second you stepped foot in his dungeon classroom.

“Uh, yes, sir-”

“I sure hope you are well aware of the fact that this Advanced Placement class holds no room for coddling, and I can assure you no one will be holding your hand through the lessons you deliberately missed during your vacation.” He pontificated in your face. Your cheeks flared in a crashing heat as your settling classmates chuckled at the spotlight he casted upon you. “Come on, front and center.” He pointed to the empty chair that was surrounded by students in the center of the classroom, and meticulously sat right next to Andy McAvoy, who was daggering a provoked face of wrath at your presence. 

Mr. Fitzgerald had practically placed a dunce hat on your head for everyone to laugh at. 

You shrunk in your seat every passing minute, as glares laser beamed into you from the front, side, back. Your palpitating heart had no room to rest, as Mr. Fitzgerald took it upon himself to randomly select you—every single time—to answer questions about a lesson you weren’t even present to have learned about, enabling the other fourteen students to snicker at every stuttering I don’t know you had to mutter with shame and embarrassment that flared your body with burns of embarrassment. 

The ache in your head had pounded your focus into oblivion, making the numbers and letters of your worksheet blend into incomprehensible blurs that had your hand twitching with the belief that you were already failing, and that dazzling A+ that made your father pat you on the back when he demanded your report card would slip into your biggest fear: an A-. In retrospect, an A- was a highly respectable grade, but when you’ve been conditioned to dictate your self-worth on the basis of academic validation, having your grade slip seemed like the biggest indication that your father's words were the truth. You were going to fail in life. And right now, all you wanted was the thumbs-up of a particular boy to let you know everything was going to be okay. 

And everything started crashing down when you heard it.

“Freak’s whore.”

Andy McAvoy had full intentions of letting everyone hear his vile conviction, murmuring for the surrounding people to hear but taking advantage of Mr. Fitzgerald’s aging ears and whispering it so it went unknown to the authoritative figure. 

“Can’t believe she tried to get with me.” He smiled to Karry Koven, as she giggled and stared at you.

It was a lie. It was the most loaded lie you ever heard. For the past two years, Andy McAvoy had made it his life's mission to claim you as his own, after Jason proffered the idea of double-dating with him and Chrissy. The idea hadn’t been too bad of an offer, until you actually went, and his sleazy hands felt the need to wander your body despite your consistent attempts to keep things at a platonic level. With Chrissy Cunningham and Jason Carver coupling up, it only seemed fair for their best friends to follow suit, and such belief left Andy’s arrogant mind to believing to be entitled to your body. 

“Such a gross slut, can’t even imagine what that freak gave her.”

In the last ten minutes of class, you excused yourself to the bathroom and silently cried in the lonely stall. 

It was a setback. A major one. And your old self would have cursed at you for letting some meaningless words get to you, but you were allowing yourself the mistakes that came with the experience of being human, and if being hurt by the sexist comments of a jock who got a shot to his ego because a girl rejected them, then so be it. You were distraught, and words were bound to get to you. Crying was the release you needed to let yourself recuperate and continue your day. 

The bell had rung for lunch, you quickly wiped the remaining tears of your face with the rough paper towels stationed at the sink, and caught yourself in the reflecting glass of the mirror. Truthfully, how embarrassing would it be to give yourself a pep talk in the grimy bathrooms of your high school? Last time you entered the lunchroom, hell had broken loose, and your image was severed with the humiliating speech of Jason Carver and the deafening punch of Eddie Munson’s fist.

But before the optimistic phrases that you gathered from every movie you ever seen could be spoken to yourself, the cacophonous laughs of a group of girls pummeled their way into the bathroom, but they were quickly silenced upon seeing your presence. You knew what would come if you stayed, and you genuinely did not need more nasty comments thrown at your face, so with grace, you flashed a friendly smile that they predictably did not return on their scowling faces, and walked past them into the bustling halls.

It was now or never.

“C’mon, you don’t even like peaches!” Dustin slumped in his chair, as his efforts into devouring Jeff’s fruit side came to bust.

Jeff smiled with pleasure. “Yeah, but there’s something about not letting you have it that just makes me really happy.” The table chimed in with laughter. 

“You guys are all mean.” He huffed with crossed arms, which simply elicited more laughs. “Mean, mean, mean people.”

“Don’t pout, Henderson, I’ll be sure to have Jeff’s character fall off a cliff in this week's campaign.” Eddie chucked down a pretzel with a teasing grin.

“What?!” Jeff sat up, as the laughs turned against him. “You can’t do that, you’re totally just bluffing!”

“You might as well.” Grant chuckled. “It will make it more interesting, and we deserve interesting after you bailed on us Friday.” He sternly pointed his spork at Eddie, which quickly met the table when he smacked it away. 

“I told you,” Eddie sighed, “I was busy.” One day he'd tell his friends of his therapy sessions. But at the moment, they were acting like high school boys, and today was not the day to reveal so.

“Aw, were you pretending your guitar was a girl?” Gareth snided with kissy faces, that made the boys obnoxiously laugh harder, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Please, Emerson, I can’t remember the last time a girl spoke to you that wasn’t your mom.” He retorted back. “And I’d be careful if I were you, Gareth the Great could have the same demise off that cli…”

Eddie had trailed his words into silence when his eyes landed on you.

There, through the heavy doors of the crowding cafeteria, you were once again making an entrance that was completely out of your control. If you had it your way, your figure would be dismissed, like a ghost people could not perceive. But that was never an option for you. Even before, happy waves and nice greetings were always following you, but the current trend in the bubble of Hawkins High was picking the next girl to surmise as a slut because you made the decision to be nice to a group of boys, and how dare you do so, especially when those boys were no good satanists who would perform human sacrifices in woods in the middle of the night? It’s funny how high school worked in the isolation of a small town. 

So once again, the stares were happening, as everyone decided to switch their hushed conversations to the entertaining topic of you; laughing their harsh opinions to their circle of friends or seeing how far they could fabricate more rumors. Your eyes landed on the table you once sat at, your designated chair no longer reserved for your being, but rather piled with sneakers of Jason Carver who decided to use your seat as a footrest. It didn’t take a genius to know you were no longer welcomed within that group, their blatant stares making it beyond the realms of obvious. 

But you didn’t need them. You didn’t need Jessica Lewis’ patronizing comments. You didn’t need Andy McAvoy’s unwarranted touches. You didn’t need Jason Carver’s pesting control over everyone. 

The neglected half of the lunchroom table where the kids of the drama club took residence on the other end would be perfectly okay for you. Ignoring their judgmental looks, you sat quiet in desolation, as everyone around you chortled at the downfall of the perfect cheerleader. 

“Eddie!” Gareth waved his hand in his face, snapping Eddie back to reality.

“Holy shit, you were totally checking out Y/N!” Mike laughed. 

“N-no, I wasn’t.” His hair fervently moved with the vehement shakes to his head. “Everyone is fucking staring at her.”

“But you were staring staring, Eddie.” Jeff teased with a big grin. "Like how you stared at that one older chick with the huge boobs at the Hideout that one time."

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

With heavy sigh, you decided the best option was productivity, and the sweetness of your precisely cut strawberries were fueling you with the needed energy to focus on the piling stack of missing work you were due to accomplish. Equations and word problems could provide enough distraction from the myriad of bullying that was hurtling against you, and in a very unlikely case, homework was easing your mind into a peaceful state. If this is how you had to finish out your senior year, then it was something you’d be okay with coming to terms with. Aloneness could be a scary thing, and you were facing it in the terrors of your dark room where you were shut in and locked away, as you held yourself while the tears dampened your pillow case. But aloneness was also a wonderful thing, where in moments like these, when it felt like everyone was against you, you could lavish in the company of yourself—food and task at hand—because you liked the way your mind worked, you liked the way you perceived the world, it was unique to yourself and it was a beautiful thing to explore on your own. 

But a soft tap to your shoulder had pulled you from your studies, and you peered up, being met with a comforting smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Chrissy.”

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” She pointed the chair across from you.

Your agreeing nod led her to plopping down and pulling her lunch out, as though this interaction was something of normality. You looked around, the stares had intensified with the sudden movements of Chrissy Cunningham joining you for lunch. While the act of two best friends eating together was everything but abnormal, the events of last Monday had foreseen your rumored recent fuck punching her boyfriend, and the idea of you and Chrissy would have assumed to be severed. 

But here she was, sitting with you without a care of the world. 

You watched her dejectedly sigh at the sight of her pre-packed lunch clearly made by the hands of her mother. Green. Bland. Portioned so small it wouldn’t stuff a toddler. You pushed your tray of food to her. “Have some of mine.” You smiled, switching her plate with yours. “Maybe we can give yours to Mrs. Durberry’s pet lizard.” And she laughed that grateful laugh that you always seemed to cause whenever you’d save her appetite from the terrible choices of her mother with a joke to make her feel better. And she comfortably took the other half of your sandwich.

“Have, um, have people been saying stuff about you?” She delicately asked with a mouthful of food.

With a smile on your face, you nodded. “Yeah. Nothing I wasn’t expecting, though.” You shrugged. “Are you, uh, are you okay sitting with me? Like Jason might-”

“I broke up with Jason.” She interjected. 

Looking back, you met his disbelief scowl that was certainly blaming you for the ending of his relationship. “You did? Already?”

She nodded her head. “I didn’t want to wait it out, because I knew that if I took too long I would just procrastinate, and I probably wouldn’t get the courage to actually do it. But I did.” She sighed.

“Are you okay?” Three years of a relationship, filled with young love, innocence, and first times were all gone in a matter of seconds when Chrissy arrived at the doorstep of Jason’s house. But a revelation Chrissy had to come to terms with was the fact that years together, the length of a relationship, holds no merit to the satisfaction of one’s mind and heart, and Jason Carver was simply someone he used to not be. The once skinny sophomore who sat the benches of all games had grown to be a young man with screwed priorities that came at the expense of his girlfriend’s comfortability, especially when she was becoming someone she didn’t want to be. 

“Yeah.” She quietly answered. “Um, he didn’t exactly take it well, and my mom can’t seem to wrap her head around the idea that I just didn’t like who he was anymore. They both keep pestering me about it.”

“Don’t listen to whatever they might be saying.” You advised. “Really, if getting away from him is what you want- what you need, please don’t let them take that away from you.”

“I won’t.” She smiled. “Hey, are you still coming back to practice? Coach has been dying to have you back. As much as Jessica likes to think, she is not a good flyer.” 

You giggled. “Ugh, I would have loved to see that. But yeah, I told my dad I’d be staying for practice. Though, I’m heavily expecting to come out with a broken leg, because those girls are totally dropping me for, you know, associating with he who must not be named.” 

“Don’t worry, coach has literally been on a frenzy ever since you left, she’ll take care of them. Seriously, Y/N, as much as they’d like to admit otherwise, we have been a mess without you.” Chrissy reassured. “And um, how are things… w-with your dad. I, uh, I saw the locks when-”

“It’s fine, Chrissy, really. Don’t worry about it.” You murmured, more as an excuse to forget about it. “I’m learning to deal with it. But let's just talk about something else.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

Chrissy agreed for your comfort. Because for once, speaking with Chrissy about the miniscule things of life felt like the stability of normalcy you had been yearning for. 

“You’re totally staring at her!” Jeff laughed, as Eddie once again was caught up in the glimpses of you.

‘Wh- How many times do I have to tell you I’m not?” He slid back in his chair in embarrassment. There was only so much lying he could do to cover his averting eyes, but the truth was screaming past any attempts of delusion. 

“Oh, so you were staring at Chrissy, you like her then?” Gareth smiled, as Eddie sauntered right into his trap.

“No! Not Chrissy, Y/N’s the one- ugh!” Eddie’s head dropped into the safety of his hands, as his friends’ laughter echoed around the table. While he truly had nothing to be embarrassed about—he quite literally drunkenly admitted his feelings to you already—the discomfort of letting his feelings be known was still new territory for Eddie, and building a friendship on the basis of teasing the living shit out of each other didn’t exactly make his progress any easier. Though, under that frustration, a small teetering curl to his lips and blushing cheeks were appearing behind the cover of his hands. Talking about you did that to him.

“You should totally talk to her.” Dustin reached over to hit his arm, but a switch had flipped in Eddie, and his head shot up with his hand grabbing the boy’s arm before it could make contact. 

Everyone was taken aback by his sudden reflexes. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Don’t tell me you're nervous.” Dustin laughed, as he pulled his arm away with sass. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. Granted you were basically an ass and she probably hates you.”

If only they knew. 

“Wait,” Mike interjected, “is that why you punched Carver in the face last week?”

“And why you left lunch to go find her friend that one time?” Grant added.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Eddie sighed. “Not that this is any of your guys’ business, but yeah- and that’s all you're getting out of me, so knock it off with the interrogation, please?” He shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth to cope with the stress.

“Why not just go talk to her and apologize?” Jeff suggested. 

“Do you honestly think someone like her would like someone like him- ow?!” Gareth chuckled before a crushed can of soda hit the side of his head. 

“I did apologize to her.” Eddie disregarded Gareth’s comment, answering Jeff with a mouth full of mush and crumbs. “Just don’t wanna bother her with anymore of my talking.” His denim sleeve wiped his lips.

“Well,” Dustin sighed, as he retrieved something from his backpack. “I’ll go bother her.” He smiled, and Eddie cocked his head to the now standing kid.

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Dustin affirmed. “She’s the only reason why my sexy photo is in this yearbook,” he patted the glossy cover to the infamous book, “might as well get her to sign it.”

“Wait! No, Dustin!” Eddie gritted through his teeth, but the young freshman had a goal in mind, one that his Dungeon Master could not interfere with. Even if it meant his character would be doomed with a fateful death at the bottom of a cliff that coming Friday. “Please, Henderson!”

The curly tendrils freed from the cap on his head bounced as he happily ignored the stressed calls of Eddie from the table. In truth, Eddie’s tensity came from a place beyond whatever stupid comment Dustin might make about him to you. He had spent the last four days respecting your boundaries despite his desires to talk to you, and Dustin’s presence might lead you to believe this was his way in getting someone to speak to you on his behalf—something you strictly told him not to do when he was crying hungover on your bed—he’d definitively ruin his chance at ever getting you to trust him again. 

But Dustin Henderson had all the confidence in the world, something you would come to admire in the boy as you got to know him, and he placed himself at the end of the table, where you and Chrissy had resided, interrupting your talks of dinner plans.

“Uh-hem.” He cleared his throat with precise certitude. “Ladies,” Dustin then turned to you, “Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Dustin Henderson. You took the photo of my club, Hellfire.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dustin, I remember you." You smiled. 

“Awesome!” He squealed on the tips of his toes. “I didn’t actually think you’d remember me.” He giggly confessed. “But anyways, I was wondering if you’d like to, um- would it be okay if you signed my yearbook?” He opened the page to the appointed spot where signatures were entitled to, his page particularly filled with the names, messages, and small doodles of his friends.

“Oh, Dustin, I’d be so very honored.” His grin consumed his face at your acceptance. 

“Oh!” Chrissy perked. “Here’s a pen you could use!” Handing over her trusty pink pen that had recently grown accustomed to the tribulations of your friendship. 

Muttering a small thank you as you took her pen, you uncapped the lid to meet one of the many large spaces of white that surrounded his page. Your heart had gently ached at the realization that not many people had signed his yearbook. The sophistication you oozed defied the laws of coolness in the Dustin Henderson Doctrine. While Eddie Munson’s ability to create and personify some of the greatest campaigns of Dungeons and Dragons he’d ever seen was downright incredible, and Steve Harrington’s ability to sway any cute girl’s Friday night plans to now revolve around him was thoroughly unbelievable, your coolness was surpassing those of the men he looked up to. Maybe it was because you were a beautiful girl who was actually nice to him. Maybe it was because he knew you could play into his antics. Either way, you were ranking yourself to the top of Dustin Henderson’s Favorite People List. And if he ever found out you made way better chocolate chip cookies than his mom, he would have placed you above the woman who birthed him. Because you wrote a, albeit short, cute little message just for him:

Has't a most wondrous summ'r cutie, t's been the greatest privilege knowing thee, kind solid'r - Y/N

“Thank you so much!” He gushed at your writing, making you laugh. 

“Anytime, Dustin.” You gave Chrissy her pen back. “Anything else we can help you with?”

“Ooh, yeah!” He got extremely excited at the open invitation. Your kindness was placing him at a vulnerable spot, that vulnerable spot being the potential strangling hands of Eddie Munson if he ever found out what Dustin was about to do. “So, uh, y’know, Eddie, right?”

Your burrows furrowed playfully. “Hm, yeah, I know, Eddie.” 

“Well, uh, see don’t tell him I told you this, because he would totally kill me, but he kinda sorta has a crush on you.” You turned around and briefly caught Eddie Munson staring at you before his eyes went big and he snapped his head to the other side of the cafeteria as if he didn’t get caught. Ugh, he was just so-

“No way!” Chrissy gasped with fake dramatics as she squealed. “A cute boy likes you!” She sprightly spoke.

“You’re totally messing with me, aren’t you?” You joined in on her theatrics for the sake of letting Dustin Henderson believe he was the brains behind the union of his two friends—as if the confessions of last week's events didn’t happen at all. “The Eddie Munson likes me?! There’s no way, he’s way too cool!” You rhapsodized. 

Oblivious to it all, Dustin jumped with excitement for his friend. “No, he actually does! He totally blushes and everything when we talk about you!”

“That’s so cute!” Chrissy effused. “You guys should, like, totally get married, you’d be so cute together.”

“Oh, totally!” You playfully giggled before turning to Dustin. “Dusty, be sure to tell Eddie to let me get my nails done first before he proposes. I can’t have my hands looking ugly for our engagement photoshoot.”

“Uh, y-yeah, okay!” Dustin shrugged along, completely heedless to the idea that you and Chrissy were just joking around, but his lack of communication with girls had him believing whatever this conversation was transpiring to be was merely the normal gist of what girl talk had to be. Also, there was a small part of you that wanted to give Eddie Munson a heart attack when Dustin returned with the grand news.

“Great, it’s settled then!” You smiled. “I have full trust that you will relay the message, good sir.” You popped a strawberry into your mouth, as Dustin swiftly shook his head. 

“Yes! Yes, totally!” His curls shook with his head. 

“Alrighty then, Dustin, maybe you can talk Eddie into letting you be his best man.” You smiled. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks again for everything!” He waved you both off excitedly, eager to run and tell Eddie the good news.

Chrissy and you watched him nearly trip over his own two feet as he speed-walk to the table he had came from—not wanting to fall victim to Mr. Long’s threat of no running on the school grounds, as he monitored the lunchroom. “He’s so adorable.” You two giggled as you both watched him flee. 

Dustin had plopped in his chair with a heaving chest, as his table began torpedoing an onslaught of questions, Eddie’s queries being the harshest. “Do you literally want to die?!” The metalhead slammed his hand onto the table, ignoring the stinging burn that came right after. “Why would you go up to her?! What did you say?! What did she say?!”

“She said…” Dustin huffed too long for Eddie’s thinning patiences, “she said that I was a cutie-”

“What?!”

“-and that she wants to marry you.”

“What?!”

You and Chrissy Cunningham laughed across the cafeteria at his booming voice. 

-

“So yeah, that totally means they want me, right?”

Ms. Kelly had suddenly turned into a love coach. 

“Uh, well, I’m sure the feeling is… mutual between the two of you.” She hesitantly answered, not sure how to exactly approach the love life of her teenage students, but glad enough her response made Eddie smile. 

“Okay, good, I think that, too.” He giddily adjusted in his chair.

“But remember, Eddie, don’t determine your happiness on the basis of this person.” Ms. Kelly reminded. “Root that within yourself, because if things don’t… work out in a sense, we don’t want you losing that progress.”

“No, I know.” He quietly muttered, as his hand rubbed the slight stubble of his chin. “That, uh, that’s actually one of things that really scared me into getting help, I guess. See, remember those, um, terrible things I did when, y’know, they said they didn’t want me around?” She nodded her head gently to allow him to continue. “I, um- my dad would do those things. Like, whenever my mom had done something he didn’t like, he would just get plastered, say these gross things, and then, um, start…hitting.” Eddie huffed out a large breath that burned his chest. “And seeing me be that- be my dad- becoming him was just a scary reality check that I’m just like him, a-and I don’t want to be. I spent years wishing so hard that I wouldn’t be, y’know, that I wouldn’t be those kids who turned into their parents, that Wayne taught me better than that, but there I fucking was scaring her- them, scaring them. Sorry.” He cleared him through shamefully as he got worked up.

“Don’t be sorry, Eddie.” She smiled. “This is your moment to let your thoughts and feelings be known. And by hearing you, I want you to leave today’s session vitalizing the importance that you are not your father. You’re not your mother, either. Or your uncle, or anyone for that matter. Eddie, you are you. There is a pattern within you that wavers from trying so hard to stray away from hurting others like your parents did to you, to straying away from the possibility of getting hurt like your parents did to you. And it’s wonderful that you’re recognizing that, but you need to understand that you’re merely getting stuck in an endless cycle of trying to satisfy those end goals, that your mind is running in circles and blurring the line between what's working and what’s not, and it’s doing harm.”

Eddie chewed on his thumb nail taking in the revelation. “I don’t know how to fix that.” He defeatedly admitted. 

“You need to not be driven by fear, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly answered. “That image of your father is a scary thing to come to terms with, and I’m not saying you’re wrong for being terrified of it, because it truly was a dark part of your life, but you need to face it rather than run from it. You mentioned that you and your uncle rarely speak of the life you once had with your parents, and that suppression- that shut in, that’s what’s inhibiting you from growing to be someone that is not like your father or mother. Your upbringing has rooted a fear in you that’s scared of being hurt, and it’s not unusual, the majority of the world is scared at the possibility of being hurt, but the majority don't acknowledge that that fear is the cause of why our personal progress is being stunted. No one wants the uncomfortable conversations. No one wants to face the reality of the world. But the truth is Eddie, it’s better to be hurt organically by the troubles of the world rather than self-destruct our minds under the guise that we’re protecting ourselves. It’s good to focus on oneself, but we need to understand when we’re crossing that boundary into self-immolation, which is far more scary.”

Eddie Munson had sat in silence for a minute to digest her words. “And that’s what I’m doing.” He whispered to himself.

“But you’re getting help.” Ms. Kelly interjected his thoughts with a delicate smile. “And that’s far more progress than most people get to.”

“I think, uh, I think it really, I don’t know, frustrates me that I didn’t understand that in the first place. Because, well, I mean, even you know I’m not the smartest person around-”

“Academic intelligence has nothing to do with this, Eddie.” Ms. Kelly assured. “Even the smartest people have difficulty understanding their problems.”

“Yeah, I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I just get angry that I can’t be smart enough to figure this stuff out. Like, I know you said this isn’t based on intelligence, it’s just that when things don’t work out the way I want them to, and it turns out my plans were actually stupid, I just get so aggravated with myself, and then I get so aggravated with the other person for not doing as I want, even though it’s not their fault.” He released a puff of air from his cheeks at the admission 

“Would you say your anger has become an issue?”

Eddie huffed a shameful chuckle. “God, how much of an ass would I be if I said yes? Sorry for the language, Ms. K, but I really am such an asshole. Pretty cynical, too. And nihilistic. Pessimistic. A person even said I was a sulking asshole if the picture wasn’t clear enough for you.” He nodded with a tight-lipped smile.

And though it may have been a little unprofessional, Ms. Kelly allowed herself a small chuckle at his words. “Well, those are quite some characteristics to have.” She kindly joked. “How often do your efforts result to violence, Eddie? Is it a gradual transition from yelling to hitting for you?”

“Uh, yeah, it definitely is.” He sighed. “I mean, I think you’re aware of how many fights I’ve been pushed into-”

“Would you say you cause most of them?”

“Um, not necessarily cause, more so… provoke.” He laughed.

“Instigate for a reaction?” Ms. Kelly questioned.

And with a snap and point of his finger, Eddie agreed. “Ooh, yeah! Instigate for a reaction sounds a lot better.” He smiled before doubling down. “But, uh, totally know I shouldn’t. It’s just… kinda fun.”

“Fun?”

“Well, yeah, y’know, most people at this school don’t like me.” Eddie emphasized. "Even the teachers don’t. And, I guess, poking fun at the groups of people who hate me kinda shows them I don’t care, if that makes sense? Like I can make fun of them just as they do to me and my friends. So, I guess getting angry does kinda happen often, and it does always seem to escalate. If people aren’t listening to my yelling, then they’ll definitely listen to me fighting them, y’know?”

“Is that what happened during last week’s cafeteria incident when you hit another student?”

“Basically.” Eddie nodded. “The dude, he was just spewing a bunch of bullshit about someone, and well, when I told him to shut up and tried to “save the day,” I guess, my anger definitely got out of hand and I punched the guy. Honestly, I hate the guy, so I had no problem doing it, but I also thought that I was, uh, stopping the other person that he was talking about from getting hurt more. Like we, uh, talked about- the thing that I do. And obviously, my judgment was severely off, and well, it only made the situation worse that I only ended up hurting them, too.”

“So you’re seeing where these patterns coincide?” Ms. Kelly asked. 

“Yeah.” Eddie acknowledged. “And if I’m being completely honest, I almost made the same mistake again today.”

“How so?” Her eyebrow raised.

“Uh, well, I almost hit the same guy for bothering that person, again.” He sighed. “Kinda happened right before I got here, actually. It was after school…”

-

The once crowded halls had dissipated into quietness, as the final bell had rung to announce the coming end of the school day fifteen minutes ago. 

Stalling. Stalling is what you were doing under the guise that you were merely reorganizing your locker, and any straggler who walked by would have seen that, given that your locker never approached the definitive line of chaos. But your heart was hammering at the thought of returning to cheer practice, and the coolness radiating off the metal lockers was enough to keep your forehead from sweating. There were no butterflies in your stomach, no, those insects had turned into the pesky creatures of crickets who bounced around with an end goal of causing turbulence in your worrying stomach, like the annoyance they cause during an attempt at peaceful sleep during a quiet night. 

There was something deathly petrifying about high school teenagers. Their judgment. Comments. Bullying. Rumors. You knew now why groups of adults thoroughly went through the endeavors of avoiding them in public spaces. You’d just spent an entire day on the receiving end of their hate, and it was draining. 

At the south end of the hall, the familiar faces of the members of the cheer squad pummeled out of the girls’ bathroom in loud conversations and giggles. You watched them walk together, laugh together, like you once used to do before they made the ultimate decision to lavish in your reputation’s demise. But as you followed their movements into the grand doors of the Hawkins High gymnasium, your attention had diverged you from the impeding steps of an deranged man’s end goal in mind, and the sudden slam of your locker door closing left you snapping your head to meet Jason Carver’s huffing breath before he cornered you against the lockers. 

Nostrils flared with heaving sighs, his forehead pressed down against yours until your head shoved harshly onto the metal. “You think you’re funny telling Chrissy to leave me?! Huh?!”

Eddie Munson had been on his second cigarette of the day, waiting in the sanctitude of his van, just as he did in the early hours of the morning before school started. But where a pervade of parked cars and students once rested, just an empty parking lot stood, and it provided him the peace of mind to gather the thoughts he want to speak about before he entered the counselor’s room and sat down with Ms. Kelly for what had become their fourth daily session. He grew to like Ms. Kelly a lot. So when the digits of watch striked green of the numbers of 3:45 p.m, Eddie put out the shortening cigarette onto the pavement of the ground, and entered the school building, so as to not be late for their meeting. He’d grown to respect her too much to contempt the time she chose to work overtime just for him. 

“Get off of me!” You pushed his chest away, allowing him to stumble and put some distance between you two. “I didn’t tell Chrissy to do anything!”

“Bullshit! Everyone saw you two hanging together at lunch, and conveniently right after she broke up with me! Do you really think I’m that stupid?” His reddening face started walking closer to you, but you kept up with his movements, as the adrenaline in your system moved your feet back with every inch of him coming closer.

“Chrissy broke up with you because you’re an asshole, not because of anything I told her!” You stressed. “God, literally look at what you’re doing, what you did to me- to anyone who’s different from you, of course, she doesn’t want to be with you anymore!”

“Everything I’m doing is for her! It’s your fucking fault I have to stoop this low!” He screamed. “You wanna be a slut and fuck around with that freak, then fine by me, but I will not let you drag Chrissy down with you!”

As unfortunate as the situation was, Eddie Munson strolled in at the perfect time. Upon opening the double, glass doors of the school, he was impaled by the screaming match happening between you two. The second his eyes landed on your fraught face, that anger- that anger that seethed with vexation at the need to protect you from getting hurt was coursing through his bloodstream with a strangulating wave of worry that was going to hurtle its way through any obstacle to make sure you were okay; just as it occurred when Jason Carver ambushed you in the cafeteria, just as it occurred when your father ambushed you in your bedroom.

Eddie was desperate to ensure your safety and security. 

Too distracted by the yelling words of Jason Carver, and with the jocks back turned away from Eddie’s stature, his presence went unnoticed until his ring hand clenched around the collar of his letterman jacket, and threw him up against the lockers with a bang.

“Are you fucking bothering her?” His calm voice gritted through his teeth, as Eddie pinned him to the wall. “Because last time that happened, it didn’t turn out so well for you, did it?” The threat lingered heavily in Jason’s head. The Hawkins High Tigers were paving their way through playoffs, and the championship game was right at their fingertips, but the crashing sting of Eddie Munson’s ringed fist on his face or body could hinder the basketball team's progress. 

“Eddie.” Your quiet voice lulled him away from the worries of Jason, and he watched your distressed figure of cinched brows and a chewed up lip trembling feet away from the violence of angry men. 

Eddie dropped his hold from Jason’s jacket, and stared down at the comb-over that peered up to him with irritated eyes. “You come near her again, and you’ll be fucking dead.” He whispered, far too quiet for your ears to pick on, and he did that with honest intentions. 

But before Jason could curse the words he wanted into Eddie’s face, the heavy doors of gym opening turned everyone’s attention to Chrissy Cunningham and cheer coach, Coach Hannigan, who walked out with large smiles—though Chrissy’s dropped faster than the speed of light upon seeing the three of you uncomfortably together.

“Oh,” Chrissy squeaked with confusion, but enough pep to let Coach Hannigan believe all was good. “Um, there- there’s Y/N.” Chrissy hesitantly smiled, as that had been the entire reason why the two of them walked out in the first place, to find you.

“There’s my girl!” If there was anyone who truly showed their support for the girls of Hawkins High, it was Coach Hannigan, who dedicated her faculty years to teaching the inner workings of American Literature by day and coached her girls to be the best representative of the school, because she believed you all deserved to be seen by night. “It’s been far too long! That Higgins doesn’t know what he’s doing, am I right?” Her boisterous laugh echoed through the halls, as you, Eddie, and Jason tried to appear as normal as can be. “When I got news of what he did to you, I was like "man, excessive much." I think we’re all counting the days until he retires, ha!” She spoke enthusiastically, as she patted you on the shoulder, which is when she took notice of Jason Carver and Eddie Munson looking nervously uncomfortable. “Woah, odd pairing.” She joked to you, to which you had to join in with an awkward laugh, Eddie and Jason abruptly separated under her comment. “You lot, okay?” Her colloquial use of British slang with her deep Midwestern accent was surely fitting to the oddity that was Coach Hannigan, but my god, was it comforting in a time like this.

“Just fine.” Jason muttered. “Better get to practice.” He raked his hand to adjust the hairs Eddie had disturbed during their minor push and shove, before walking away past everyone. 

“Well, I guess we should, too!” Coach Hannigan signaled over to you and Chrissy to get along. “I’m tired of seeing that dang Jessica girl tryin’ to stay steady in air, dangnamit.”

As the three of you walked away, you turned back to meet Eddie’s anxious eyes. His fears racking in his mind, wondering if he’d just done the very thing you asked him not to do, overstep. He didn’t want to scare you anymore. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But he believed his being was doing you more harm than good, and his stomach churned at the possibility that maybe you’d be better off if he just got out of your life and left you alone. But in a blink of an eye, Eddie watched your small hand aim him a subtle thumbs up with an ever so tiny grin. Eddie released the breath he’d been holding in. 

Everything was going to be okay.

-

“You know, Eddie, if you’re watching someone be harassed, it’s okay to tell me.” Ms. Kelly calmly responded.

“I-” Eddie dejectedly sighed, as he leaned back in his chair. “I know I should, it’s just, y’know, they don’t even know I’m talking about them to you, hell, I haven’t even had a full conversation with them today. I don’t know how long they want to continue this “no communication” stuff, and I really don’t want to make them feeling like I’m, I don’t know, betraying their boundaries. I’ve done a lot to them already.”

“Well,” Ms. Kelly huffed, “if you do get a chance to speak with this person, just know it’s okay to encourage them to speak to me.” She smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.” Eddie relaxed. 

“Can I ask you, Eddie, is the reason why you didn’t choose violence with this bully because of this particular person?”

“Uh, yeah.” He answered. ‘Like I said, last time I did, it really hurt this person because of how much the situation blew up. And, uh, I just really don’t think they like the… hatefulness that comes with hitting. Like they're scared of it, and I don't want to scare them anymore.”

“Are you scared of it? The violence?” She questioned. 

“Honestly, no- the, uh, physical stuff, no, I have no issue with it. When I was younger, yeah, obviously, I was a kid, but now, um, I know getting violent kinda let’s people know not to mess with me, I guess.”

“Because it gets you your way.”

Eddie winced at the truth behind the comment. When you had hung up on him that fateful night, aggression had surged within Eddie, because you were slipping through the cracks of weakness. Doing your own thing. Making your own decision. Doing the right thing. It was great, but it was something Eddie couldn’t come to terms with. It was why he chose the inebriations of alcohol to throw him over the precipice of sanity and persuaded him to do the actions he knew were wrong. But he couldn’t do that sober. His moral compass wouldn’t allow that. It’s the only reason why he showed up to your window in a drunken haze. Because Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand his feelings. His thoughts. Why his mother always stayed with his father when that man was doing far worse, and you were choosing to give up on him so easily. Verbalizing the words in his head made him want to throw up, because he knew how disgusting it was to think like that. 

“God, I hate hearing that.” He murmured in shame, as his fingers stressfully brushed over his eyebrows.

“But it’s true? At least to some extent?” Ms. Kelly delicately asked. He could only nod his head in agreement to her statements. “Your mother, Eddie, if you don’t mind me asking, what would she do whenever your father got violent?” 

He sadly sighed. “She’d just, y’know, take it. Would only get worse if she didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ms. Kelly shook her head along, as his words confirmed the ideas in her head. “Eddie, seeing that at any age, let alone as a child, can be truly detrimental to the mind and its development. What I’m evaluating is that your father’s intolerable acceptance to the word “no” has manifested onto you. Witnessing your father’s beratement and abuse, and your mother’s inability to leave has decisively skewed your perception and ego to lead you to believing you are entitled to have things- have people do as you say, and when they don’t, you lash out… like you were taught to do.”

Eddie’s stomach sank at the admission of Ms. Kelly’s findings. The truth laid in her words, and Eddie Munson was coming to terms with the fact that there were aspects of his being that truly did not make him a good person. Was there room for improvement? Yes, there was, and that was the whole purpose of Ms. Kelly’s evaluation. It was not to point the finger and ridicule him. No, it was to lay the foundation to discovering the ugly truths behind what makes us us, and unfortunately for Eddie Munson, his upbringing of hatred and abuse had developed him into an angry man yearning for what? Stability. Maybe you and Eddie Munson were a lot more alike than you both realized. 

“Eddie, I’m going to revert back to what I previously said, I want you leaving today’s session vitalizing the importance that you are not your father.” Ms. Kelly reiterated, and Eddie shuttered a breath. “Your decisions may reflect his, but you’re seeking help. You’re talking about your problems. You’re ready to put the work in and make a change.”

“I’m not him.” Eddie spoke to himself. 

“No, you’re not.” Ms. Kelly smiled. “You’re a good person who was left to make bad decisions. Don’t let your father take control of your life. Don’t give him that power. Face your fear of him, and don’t give him the authority to let you become a bad person. You are not him.”

Eddie nodded his head, absorbing the words of today’s session, as their hour-long conversation was coming to its last minutes. “Thank you.” He softly gave his gratitude, just as he did at the end of every meeting. 

“Like always, Eddie, it’s no problem. Was there anything else you wanted to mention before you leave for the day?” He gently shook his head, spilling all that he could and digesting every truth and advice his brain could handle. Today had been a good day. And he really needed that.

“No, I think I’m okay.” He assured her with a small smile, as he stood and adjusted her chair back to its original position.

“Can I expect you tomorrow afternoon?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah, I can make it.” He answered after slight deliberation. Corroded Coffin wasn’t expected until well into the night, and he was surely certain his buzzing crowd of five drunks wouldn’t mind if the guitarist ran a little late for their weekly taste of garage metal.

With a bid farewell, Eddie left Ms. Kelly's office with a heavy mind. 

Ms. Kelly had delicately put away his file before making a mental note to speak with Jason Carver first thing in the morning about his harmful actions. Eddie’s attempt at anonymity hadn’t thoroughly worked out in his favor. Ms. Kelly knew of the cafeteria incident, and who it involved. Ms. Kelly knew of Jason’s infamous reputation. She’d received a number of saddened students in her office who had fallen victim to his words. She was able to place the puzzles of his story with ease, though never announced it for his comfort. She would be sure to have a long talk with Jason the following morning. And she’d be sure to be on the lookout for you whenever you were ready to talk. Again, Eddie was quite oblivious to the obvious nature of anonymity. But at least he meant well.

Approaching the doors to the school, Eddie was already yanking his pack of cigarettes from his jacket, ready to finish the evening off with his third of the day. That was until he stepped outside, and saw you waiting at the entrance in your practice clothes, leading him to getting flushed with a wave of deja vu, as you looked exactly as you did the day you took his picture. 

You turned at the opening of double doors, an endearing smile posing on your face as you saw him abruptly stop at the doorway. “Oh, hey.” You waved to him kindly. Holy shit, you were actually speaking to him. You know, Eddie Munson had dedicated the entirety of his weekend rehearsing what he wanted to say to you, the right words and everything, he’d even came up with a short script of lines as to what to say that were currently residing in the back pocket of his pants, but it was long forgotten by this point, and he couldn’t muster up a single word. You giggled at his frozen state, “You can say “hi” back, Eddie, it’s okay.”

But instead of a greeting, Eddie had walked up to you frantically. “Look, I’m so sorry, I swear I’m not, like, following you around or anything. I was just coming back from a-”

“Hey, Eddie, it’s okay, really.” You softly nodded. “I didn’t think you were.”

He swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say exactly, so he landed on a simple “How have you been?”

“I’ve been… decently okay.” You shrugged.

“Getting okay?” He awkwardly asked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “slowly but surely. Trying to, at least.”

“Y’know, if you wanted to, you could always talk with Ms. Kelly.” He sincerely spoke. “She’s, uh, she’s helped with a lot. I just, um- we just finished my fourth session. I’ve been seeing her since Thursday.”

You cocked your head in surprise. “Really?” He nodded his quickly. “You’ve been talking to the counselor?” You briefly spoke with Chrissy about her weekly sessions, but it had never been something you dived into for the sake of her privacy. Seeing Eddie Munson turn to therapy was exceeding beyond the expectations of what you had subconsciously set for him when you told him to get better.

“Yeah, it’s been helping me process things- my emotions n’ all.” Eddie smiled, because just last week, that would have been something he would have been embarrassed to admit. 

“That- that’s really great, Eddie. I’m proud of you.” Your eyes twinkled with admiration for his effort. “Yeah, I’ll definitely think about it.”

Once again, Eddie’s brain was short-circuiting under your highlighted features that were glowing from the setting sun. You could visibly make out his eyes raking your face before quicking peering into the parking lot, as to not look so creepy. “So… uh, did practice- is practice over already? You waiting for a ride? Need one?”

“Coach Hannigan let us out early after Jessica Lewis puked all over the field.” You laughed, as he grimaced. “The school’s lunch choice of lasagna was definitely not cut out for tumbling. But, uh, I’m just waiting for Chrissy.” You pointed across the parking lot, where Chrissy was speaking with her father. “I convinced my dad to let us have dinner at Benny’s Diner, and now she’s trying to convince hers.”

“Ah,” Eddie nodded, “y’know, speaking of lunch, uh, Dustin had some pretty- pretty interesting things to say about his little visit to your table.” He smirked behind a piece of his hair that he decided to play with to ease his nerves. 

You giggled at his antics. “Did he now?” You played around.

“Yeah, he said, uh- the little shrimp said you called him a cutie. Like absolutely wrote it out and everything.” He felt giddy inside that he was making you laugh right now. “And, hey, y’know me, I’m totally not the jealous type or whatever, but that little shit sure did have a blast rubbing it in my face.”

Despite the burn in your cheeks, you couldn’t stop the giggles that were coming out. “Oh, that reminds me,” you opened and dug around your cheer bag, pulling out a damn yearbook, “Nancy had stopped me before the end of the school day and gifted me this bad boy. You wanna be the first to sign it?”

Eddie’s eyebrows had creased his forehead with their sudden rising. “Really? Me?”

“Yeah,” you handed him the book with a retrieved pen from your backpack, where he began his work, “it’ll also give you good leverage over Dustin, and he’ll be begging to sign mine once he finds out you did.”

Eddie laughed, as he scribbled onto the white page of the book. “Y’know, if you need me to talk to Nancy, I could probably convince her to let you back on the committee.”

“Are you crazy?” You huffed out a chuckle. “I committed treason against Nancy Wheeler, I’ve been exiled from the land of Yearbook Committee, there’s no hope of going back for me.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He smiled, as he continued his writing.

“Do you have a really long middle name I don’t know about?” You tried peaking over the book, but he simply scooted away. “Hey, what’s taking you so long?”

“I gotta make this special for you, sweetheart.” He grinned over to you. “Not every day a pretty girl asks me to sign their yearbook.” 

You bit your lip to suppress the ever growing smile on your face, as your cheeks heated with fluster. And soon after, Eddie finally handed back your yearbook, where you were met his three-worded message, and an adorable little sketch of a pretty princess being protected by her knight in shining armor—coincidently sporting the lushes locks of a very metal hairstyle—who was saving her from the scary, large dragon:

For the prettiest princess in the land - E.M

Your finger delicately traced his harsh lines, and Eddie melted as he noticed your beaming smile shining brighter than the sun. “I, uh, I would totally let you sign mine, but see, I’m actually protesting the Yearbook Committee for the human rights violation they oppressed onto their ex-member. Totally standing in solidarity for her. And it’s definitely not because I can’t afford one.” He smirked.

“Oh, yeah, no, I totally get it.” you giggled. “Don’t worry, we’ll revolt against the tyrants of the student body government for their complicit association, and overthrow them for the proletariat.”

Oh my god, you were going to make his knees give out. 

Eddie rubbed his face with his hands to get it together, but his reddening face was peaking through his cracking facade of staying collected, and you loved it.

“Y’know, Dustin had also mentioned something else during lunch… something about you wanting to marry-”

“Y/N!” Chrissy shouted and waved over. “He said yes, come on!”

You turned to Eddie with the biggest teasing grin on your face. “Oh, saved by the cheerleader. Guess we’ll never know.” You smirked.

“You little-”

“I’ll see you around, Eddie, bye-bye!” You waved him off.

“Have a good night, princess.” He smiled back.

“Be careful,” You pointed to the pack of cigarettes that lingered in his hand. “I don't want you getting sick from those. That’d be awful, Eddie!” You shouted, as you walked away to Chrissy’s father’s car.

Eddie Munson had to run away immediately, his knees were beginning to buckle.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh @harrysgothicbitch @niallerlover8022 @aunicornmademedoit @spring-picnics @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @freakymunson @princess-eddie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @negativity4you @nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64

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@zoeymunson @corrcdedcoffin @sweetmariihs2 @thefemininemystiquee @monserat @findmeincorneliastreet @sheneedsrocknroll92 @silent-stories @batkin028 @btbabyy

[froggywritesstuff]

sleepovers | noel gruber (hc's)

pairing: Noel Gruber x nonbinary!reader (platonic)

warnings: implied/mentioned homophobia, mentions of therapy, mentions of crying

word count: 306

fandom: Ride the Cyclone

request: anonymous on tumblr: May I request a Platonic Noel gruber x non-binary reader sleepover hcs? Make sure to take your time!

A/N: i haven't rewatched rtc in a while so this might be ooc. sorry anon i read 'take your time' and took it extremely literally, this has been in my drafts for months 😭

Uranium isn't exactly the most queer friendly town

so when you and Noel become friends you stick to each other like glue

he'd always been told to dial his queerness down, and you were no stranger to bigots trying to tell you what your gender was

but when you two are together, neither of you feel like you have to hide who you are

you two definitely do silly fashion shows and makeovers together

karaoke sessions are a must.

he'll gush about the guys he likes for hours if you let him

you take turns watching movies of your choice each sleepover

but depending on how long you stay up for (and how long it takes for Noel's mother to take his laptop away on account of it being too loud), sometimes you take turns choosing multiple movies throughout the night

when you sleep over at his, his mum always makes sure you don't sleep in the same bed (she doesn't think you're gonna do anything inappropriate together, she just doesn't think it's appropriate for kids your age to sleep in the same bed)

but you do anyway

Noel puts the spare mattress in his room for his mum to see but you rarely use it

Noel is always the first to fall asleep, and the last to wake up somehow

you two do face masks and skin care routines

not properly of course, you use literally whatever skin care product or mask you can find and make do with what you have

at around the 3 am mark is when you two begin confessing your darkest secrets to each other in an impromptu therapy session type of way

it almost always ends with both of you in tears consoling each other, before the 3 am sleepover energy kicks in and you're both cackling at nothing

[pinboardscarecrow]

Hello me again ^_^ Hope I'm not bothering!!! If it's cool with you , I got an idea for another request for Alex Mason x Frank Woods

Something I noticed that doesn't get talked about too much is Frank's childhood. Specifically, he runs away from home young.

So I was thinking of a scene where Frank is just talking to Alex about him growing up and surviving. Alex perhaps offers his comfort to him(cuddles him , holds him , hugs him, etc). Preferably, I see this happening when they are a couple, but of course it's up to you .

Thank you so much for your time ^_^

Hello again! Don't worry, you aren't bothering at all! I love any excuse to write about these two!

Frank's running away is phrased as him being a "dyed-in-the-wool rebel", so I ended up taking that route with it. I thought it was interesting to explore what would make someone rebellious enough to run away end up joining the military, and what he would think looking back on it. It's absolutely an under-analysed part of his character!

Never Change

Word Count: 848 Words

Warnings: Brief descriptions of homelessness

Ship(s): Alex Mason/Frank Woods

Woods is stubborn, independent, a pain in the ass some would even say. It's caused him to make some questionable decisions in his life, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

masterlist ⋆｡°✩ request info ⋆｡°✩ send a request ⋆｡°✩ my ao3

“No, you know what man, fuck Hudson.”

The outburst was sudden, but Mason looked thoroughly unperturbed, not even bothering to look up from his book. He was sprawled out on the couch in Woods’s living room; the shitty old brown one that he always claimed was too soft and too small, yet never let Woods throw out. “You can’t just tell him to fuck himself every time you disagree with him.”

Woods stopped pacing around the room, something he had been doing for nearly half an hour by this point. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because that’s every time he tells you what to do.”

Woods crossed his arms and huffed, his gaze creeping up the bare walls as he mulled over his anger. “What can I say? I’m a free thinker.”

In response, Mason simply hummed, unconvinced. After a moment’s pause—finishing reading something he found far more interesting than Woods’s tantrum, no doubt—he tacked on; “You must have been a nightmare as a kid.”

That was certainly one way to put it. “Excuse me, but I was a fucking saint.”

Mason let out a soft snort of amusement. “Sure. I imagine your parents were thrilled with your decision-making.”

“Yeah. Not that they had to deal with it for long.”

“And why’s that?”

“Ran away.” It was short, simple—too short and simple for Woods. Mason’s eyes finally left his book, only for a second. Then he paused. 

His eyes flicked back to Woods’s.

“I’m sorry.” He sat up a bit and closed his book, something Woods cringed at. He didn’t need pity. “I didn’t know.”

It wasn’t something that bothered Woods—hell, it wasn’t even something he thought about all that much—except that he knew that was a lie. Somewhere in the back of his mind, those memories played on a loop, over and over again. Just thinking of it made his heart skip a beat; he could already feel the lump in his throat. 

“It’s fine,” Woods responded, his voice sounding flat even to his own ears. “It doesn’t bug me.” But if that was true, then why did the words catch in his throat when he tried to say them?

Evidently, it wasn’t convincing enough to Mason either. His eyes stayed on Woods, watching him closely as he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Woods let out a bark of laughter at the offer; as much as he loved Alex, he thought that there were better things to do on a couch than an impromptu therapy session. “It’s fine, Al,” he waved Mason off. 

But as much as he wanted to return to being angry, he couldn’t. His frustration with Hudson was gone, whisked away in an instant, and in its place, he felt nothing but exhaustion.

“That’s fine,” Mason responded, but he extended an arm to Woods. “Come lay down.”

Leave it to Mason to always know exactly what he needed.

He crawled into Mason’s lap readily, sprawling out on top of him. If the couch was too small for one person, it was impossible for two. But Woods wouldn’t change it for the world.

Mason said nothing as he held Woods, running his fingers through his hair soothingly. It was quiet, peaceful even, and Woods felt the need to ruin it.

“I was twelve,” he offered, unprompted, his voice muffled in Mason’s chest.

The fingers in his hair paused for only an instant, but it was enough for Woods to sense Mason’s surprise.

“Why did you do it?”

“I didn’t like being told what to do.” He could feel the way Mason’s breath hitched in a slight laughter. But it was painfully true; he had given up a home, a family, safety, all just because he wanted to be independent

Mason laid his head back on the arm of the couch, letting out a soft sigh as he did. “I don’t see why you joined the Marines then.”

Woods shrugged. “Realized I was wrong. Sometimes it's nice, not having to call all the shots yourself.”

He could feel the slight bob of Mason’s head as he nodded in agreement. “Very wise of you.”

Woods lifted himself off of Mason’s chest enough to playfully glare at him. “Don’t sound so surprised. You think I’m stupid, Mason?”

Pretending to think on it, Mason turned his gaze to the ceiling and pursed his lips. “Sometimes.”

With a laugh, Woods thumped his fist against Mason’s side, spurring Mason to giggle along with him. “Fuck you,” he snorted, flopping his head back down.

After their laughter died, Mason pet his hand through Woods’s hair again, ducking down as he did so to plant a kiss on the top of Woods’s head. His voice was soft when he finally asked, “Was it worth it?”

Woods thought on it a moment; the long nights spent in cold, abandoned buildings, stealing for food, having no one and nowhere to call his own, and how it all led him to join the Marines, the CIA—how everything had led him to Mason.

“Yeah,” he smiled, holding Mason a little closer. “It was worth it.”

[nyxvamps]

sometimes, when the hephaestus cabin needs to comfort one of their own, they’ll sneak down to the beach and have a little bonfire. they’ll spend a few hours telling stories, daring eachother to jump in the freezing water, and star gaze to make their sibling feel better about whatever is upsetting them.

the athena cabin will watch children’s shows/movies or playing children’s games. they spend so much of their time being the most mature or most knowledgeable (even if they aren’t, the expectation is placed on them) so being a kid is needed sometimes. the game sorry and the show lazytown tend to be top picks.

aphrodite cabin has an impromptu therapy session. they’ll take turns talking about their own issues so that the main sibling doesn’t feel alone and has time to think about what they want to say. if they want to say anything at all.

the ares cabin does two things. take that sibling to the training area and let them beat the shit out of the rest of their siblings in a tournament style sparring session. or. they just, relax all day. turn on some nice music, gather in the main living area, pj’s on, and have a lazy day inside their cabin where no one else can see such an intimate moment.

hermes kids make eachother things. handmade items that let the one who is upset know they have their siblings no matter what (and unclaimed fellow campers who are siblings at this point). not all at once though. it’s a planned event that spans an entire month of random gifts from their siblings.

[deepperplexity]

Prompt: 12. Giver Of Gifts [D2]

Pairing: Gruber x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Countryside resort near Darlington

Continuation of: RICKMAS2022 prompts 14. Icy roads & 15. Frosty Glass and RICKMAS2023 Prompt 11. Imperfect Holiday

A/N: Hi darlings! I know I’m a day late, well, like 11 hours late, but my daughter needed me a little extra yesterday (nothing bad, she was just very cuddly and wanting to be literally on me) so when I got har to sleep I was so exhausted I couldn’t finish the fic. It’s a long one 😂 But here it is! And I’ll get today’s fic up later as well, don’t worry! I feel super creative and rested today so I’m going at full speed! 😍👏 But, this is the last fic of Hans and Anna-Louise. It’s been one of the hardest serial fics I’ve ever written, it takes so much with the language use and all that but I have had such a good time writing for these two! I really hope you’ll enjoy this one and how it all turns out in the end 🥰❤

Tags/TW’s: Light One Bed Trope, Kissing, Cudlding, Hugging, Being Left Behind, Secret Identity, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Finding One's Own Value, Gift Giving, Being Spoiled/Cared For, Criminality, Unlawful Actions, Falling In Love, Confessions Of Feelings, Indicates Hazardous Situations, Second Hand Revealing Of Secrets, Worrying, Charity, Fluff, Angst, H/C, Reassurance

Word Count: 6.7k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Our lips parted, my first ever good kiss. Fabulous, wonderful, perfect kiss. And it was with him, the man who not only saved my life and held impromptu therapy sessions over muffins but who also saw me and heard me — a man who I deeply felt cared for me, truly. To kiss him was… a trip. A real trip of every sensation my body was able to feel and no sooner had it ended than I wished to do it again.

“Schnuki, don’t doubt my want of you, or how special I think you are,” he whispered, it came out thick and heavy in his dark rumble of a voice. “I will spoil you in any and all ways I see fit, understand me?” he continued. “I— You are something else, Hans…” He chuckled at that and kissed my forehead in that gentle manner of his tightly groomed beard gentle but firm against my skin. That kiss only felt even sweeter now that I knew how urgently and intensely he could kiss my lips.

“Tell me you understand,” he urged. “I-, I think I understand. It’s difficult for me, I can’t really understand why me, and how it became me, but I’m bloody happy about it either way, is that alright?” I asked, my cheeks burning once more, perhaps I’ll evolve second-degree burns with this amount of blushing? Or I’ll need to chug water, all this warmth will leave me dehydrated. “That’s alright, I’ll make you understand in due time.”

There was a knock at the door and Hans slid out of my grasp. “Go put those on,” he said, pointing to the pyjama set of silk still on the bed. I nodded and grabbed them, heading to the bathroom just as he opened the door and I heard the bell boy announce that he was room service.

When I came back, dressed in the fabulous silk that made me feel wrapped in a cloud, Hans sat on the bed with a tray atop the covers with two covered plates, two glasses of orange juice, and a plump-looking blueberry muffin. “Is that for me?” I asked, pointing to the treat. “Yes, thought you could see if this fancy place compares to that little café.” I smiled at him and he patted the bed beside him, I carefully sat down cross-legged and he lifted off the silvery coverings that kept the food warm.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes wafted up my nose — my stomach promptly growled with desperation to have the goodies. “S-sorry…” “My sweet treat, never apologise for any bodily functions with me. If you’re hungry, I’ll give you food. If you’re cold, I’ll offer my coat. If you need a shower, I’ll rent an entire house for one if needed.” I gaped at him while he smiled cheekily at me, it was nearly a smirk yet not quite. “Ooo-kay,” I said, prolonging the word far more than necessary, but what was I to say to that?

Hans pushed a fork toward me. “Eat, then we sleep.” I didn’t hesitate. Is tarted in on the bacon and eggs, cutting the long pieces of meat and mixing it with the eggs before topping it with a healthy dose of salt and shoving it into my mouth. The flavour burst atop my tongue and I groaned in appreciation. “Best, eggs and bacon, ever, had,” I mumbled as I chewed. “So good.” “Glad to hear it,” he said and started in on his pancakes, his knife and fork moving with steady precision while mine flew in an uncoordinated manner all over the plate.

When the plates were cleared I chugged the juice. I was full, but that muffin looked bloody tempting and I didn’t want to be ungrateful so I grabbed it and took a huge bite out of it. It was good, not as good as the ones at home but moist and flavourful. “Good?” Hans asked and I nodded. “Really good.” I took another bite while Hans cleared away the tray from the bed. “But not quite as good?” How did he know? I never even really ate the muffin last time, did I? No, no I don’t think I did. I was too wrapped up in him and how he held my hand and talked about how I was being treated, I mean, it’s not Ferdinand’s fault, but I think he was madder at Dad and Sis, then again I could be wrong. I’m often wrong, I guess, I never thought Mum would leave, or that Martha would become a dear friend, least of all I’d skip town with a rich German—

“Schnuki?” “Huh? Hmm? Yeah?” Hans smiled gently at me, stroking back a strand of hair by my cheek and hooking it behind my ear. “Lost in thought?” he asked. “Oh, umh, suppose so,” I said. “How did you know about the muffin?” “That it’s not as good?” I nodded. “It’s all over your face, little treat.” “What?” “You talk quite a bit, and you think even more I believe, but your face says everything one needs really. Just have to look,” he said and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Sorry…” I mumbled, looking down at my half-finished muffin while fiddling with the striped paper around it. “Don’t be, I quite like how open you are, and willing to share. Not a common thing these days, you know. You’re a rarity.” I scoffed. “That’s for sure. Imagine if everyone blabbers like me? Gosh, blimey, the world would be a headache-inducing verbal madhouse,” I chuckled, yet it made me sad, to be honest. “I’m not talking of others, just you,” Hans said and leaned over to kiss my temple. “Now, time to sleep.”

He went around the room, turning off lights and making sure all doors were locked before he pulled all the curtains while I got comfy in the giant bed — honestly, it was the softest and most comfortable bed I’d ever laid in. Then I bolted upright as the last light went out. There’s only one, just one, he’ll sleep next to me, oh gosh, he’s going to be next to me!

The bed dipped and Hans indeed slipped in under the cover - the single cover that was made for two people. “Schnuki? Aren’t you lying down?” “Oh, umh, yeah, yeah sure am,” I stuttered out and slowly sank down. “I won’t bite,” he whispered right beside me. “Come here.” He pulled me in, his arms securely wrapped around me while my heart galloped in my chest. I’d never shared a bed with anyone, and sharing a bed with Hans was an experience that had me tingly all over.

“My sweet treat,” he hummed and tugged me flush against his front, spooning me. “H-Hans,” I whispered and he hummed a sound of contentment. “I’ve never… Never shared a bed without any bloke,” I continued and he squeezed me even tighter. “What a lucky bloke I am then.” I don’t know, I think maybe I’m the lucky one. Feels like it, feels like I’m getting some Christmas miracle. A man being a miracle, bloody hell that’s a thing I never thought I’d think.

***

I’d fallen asleep way too fast in his arms. I slept all through the night and when morning came I woke up alone. The bed and room were empty. I did what any sane person would, I buried my smiling face in the pillow and kicked my legs under the cover with a giggle erupting from me. Hans, sweet Hans, and he’s with me! Me! Me? Like, what? I swear if I wake up in some snow mound after having slipped and hit my head or whatever nonsense I’ll go straight to whoever runs this show and strangle them.

The door opened, and faint footsteps echoed through the room. Hans probably thought I was asleep still. “Hans?” I asked, peeking out from under the cover, turning my head to not be buried in the pillow. “Scnuki, you’re awake, good,” he said and a second later the curtains were drawn away from the window and balcony door. “Breakfast will be here any minute.” “We really having it out there? It looks bloody cold,” I said while half sitting up. “You’ll be warm with blankets, and I ordered extra coffee. Black.” “Coffee, god, yes please,” I moaned and dragged myself out of bed to go freshen up in the bathroom.

I rummaged around my bag first though, looking for some fresh clothes to wear. “On the chair,” Hans said while pulling away the rest of the curtains while I looked over my shoulder. There were several bags on the chair, so I scurried over only to freeze as I looked into them. Clothes, shoes, gloves, a purse, and all gorgeous and expensive looking if my eyes served me right.

I grabbed a thick white jumper, knitted with little pearls added in a snowfall pattern from the shoulders and over the chest. “Hans-, Hans this is too much, way too much, and expensive. Are you completely bonkers? Gone mad with a Christmas flu or something?” He only chuckled and walked up to me. “You deserve pretty things, nice clothes, warm clothes,” he said and gave my shoulders a squeeze while I looked at the jumper in my hands. It was way, way, way too much.

“Now, get dressed, and we’ll have breakfast.” “But I can’t wear—” “Schnuki, accept my gifts for you.” I looked up at him, his eyes earnest and his features soft as he asked me to simply allow him to spoil me. I’d never been spoiled, or taken cared of, or even cared for . “In silks…” I muttered, remembering his words from yesterday about wanting to come home to me dressed in silk and finery.

I did as he asked, taking the jumper, some really pretty white jeans with a matching belt of cream and gold before nabbing some new underwear and socks as well. I stopped in the bathroom, before closing the door. “How do you know my sizes?” I asked, turning to look at the cheekily smirking man. “I just looked at you,” he said. “You are very easy to look at, my little treat.” I must have blushed scarlet, my skin was on fire once more and a knock at the door saved me from making a fool out of myself.

I felt like a tenner in my new clothes, the full-length mirror in the bathroom gave me the full view and everything fit perfectly, hugging my somewhat straight shape and perfectly complimenting my skin and hair. I’d done it in a side braid to keep it away and not hide the sparkling pearls at the top of the jumper. I didn’t have any make-up, but I never used much more than some powder and mascara anyway.

Hans had set up our breakfast on the balcony when I left the bathroom. He was on the phone again, this time speaking in German and I couldn’t understand a word of it. His voice was perfection in German though, the harsh language only complimenting his deep voice further. Perhaps I should learn German too? Would be neat, not that I need more languages to talk in but it’s nifty to know more than one language.

I sat down on one of the chairs covered in a thick fur and dragged two of the blankets over my legs. “Coat,” Hans said as I was getting comfortable and I looked up. He was indeed looking at me and then nodded toward the room. I grumbled a bit but got up to fetch my jacket, it wouldn’t make much of a difference but it was cold outside.

I stood stock still in the middle of the room. By the door, where his coat had hung before, was a beautiful winter coat. It was wine red with black fur along all hems and a black belt with a golden buckle around the middle. It looked as expensive as his and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how he’d managed to get me so many things in a mere few hours — and we had both been asleep. The amount of money he’d spent had my stomach twisting, but it wasn’t all bad. There was a warmth and joy there too, that I was worth something to him meant the world to me. Even if he showed his care in monetary ways far from my own reality I wasn’t going to just dismiss his chosen way of showing he cared.

I grabbed the coat and put it on while walking back to the balcony. It, too, fit perfectly of course and the lining on the inside was silky smooth and I felt toasty in it — and pretty too. Hans was still on his call but he spun his finger around, asking me to twirl and with another blush across my cheeks I did as he asked. It was really the least I could do. His smile made me smile even wider while I mouthed “thank you”. He nodded and said something harshly in German into the phone while I got back to my chair.

“Take care of it, we have four minutes, that’s it,” he finished in English and snapped the phone shut. “I like when you talk in German,” I blurted out while reaching for my coffee cup. “Is that so?” I nodded. “How come?” he continued. “Sounds very brazen and, I dunno, large? Like, the words sound large, and it suits your voice. Your voice is really good, you know. I like it a lot, I mean, it’s not a common voice, but it’s perfect for you, and I like it,” I blabbered while fidgeting with the blanket with my free hand. “I’m glad to hear it.” “But, what do you have four minutes to do? I heard you say that yesterday too,” I continued without a break and the look on Hans' face stopped my flow of words.

He sat down, adjusting his coat and grabbing his coffee. “How much did you hear yesterday?” he asked, almost too calmly. “Oh, not much, sorry, was it banking stuff I shouldn’t know about? Like about the stock market and stuff? I heard you mention stocks and time stuff, and you look like a banker so I just assumed,” I said, worry blooming in my gut I had done something he would be upset with me over. But he smiled at me, instantly taking away the worry. “It’s alright. Don’t fret,” he said and sipped his coffee. “I’ll tell you in due time, not now though. Now, it’s time to get some food in you.” And feed me he did. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, little cucumber sandwiches, and different cheeses on lightly toasted bread along with some fruits and juice. I ended up absolutely stuffed.

***

I turned off the shower, after having walked about the grounds most of the day I’d felt a need to clean up when we returned to the room after a lovely dinner down at the main restaurant of the country resort. It had been a really wonderful day and Hans hadn’t asked me to shut up once, he actually seemed to enjoy my blabbering. But I didn’t blabber as much with him, there was no need as he listened when I chatted. The man had patience, I’d give him that.

He was on his phone again, but lying on the bed this time while talking in German. He sounded very precise, as if he were giving instructions or something when I came out dressed in my silky pyjama set. He looked at me with a sweet smile before lifting the cover so I could have it over my legs as I sat cross-legged beside him. His hand landed atop my thigh, his finger stroking circles on the inside of it and I felt as if I would go mad with having his hand there.

He barked something into the phone before slamming it shut, tossing it to the foot of the bed. “Idiots,” he muttered before falling back on the pillow. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” he kept going. “Hey, I know I’m not the brightest star in the sky but that’s a bit mean,” I said, a chuckle to my voice. “Not you, schnuki. Never you,” he murmured without looking at me, keeping his eyes closed while he let out a deep sigh.

I scooted down, laying on my side to watch his beautiful profile. Without thinking I reached up and began stroking the tips of my fingers through his lush beard. He hummed and seemed to relax. But that only lasted a few seconds. “I have to leave,” he said. “Leave?” I asked, alarms blaring in my head like bloody hounds after a fox. “For a few days, I would ask you to come with but the situation requires my undivided attention and you steal it most of the time,” he chuckled, as if he’d made some smart remark. “What do you want me to do?” I asked, fearing and wanting the answer. “Stay here, enjoy every luxury, and wait for me.” “In silk?” I teased and he finally looked up at me, a cheeky smile across his thin lips framed by that gorgeous beard I’d a second ago been touching.

He had me on my back a second later, twisting us so he lay between my legs with the cover between our bodies while he kissed me most deeply. Blimey, he really was a fantastic kisser, and every inch of me felt all tingly. I was turning into the giddy schoolgirl stereotype with him, and it felt good to be able to just relax and be.

“Will you wait for me?” he asked against my lips, only half breaking the kiss. “I’ll always wait for you. I don’t think I’m completely daft by thinking there’s something very special between us?” “My sweet treat,” he whispered, pecking my lips once. “You have no idea how special you are to me. One day, perhaps you’ll see, but until then I’ll do everything in my power to show you.” “Bloody hell,” I murmured. “You’re making it impossible not to fall for you, Hans.” “Good,” he said with a smile. “So you’ll wait here for me?” “Yeah, sure, I’ll wait right here, lavishing in silks and eating the best bacon and eggs.” He laughed at that, a deep and throaty sound I couldn’t ever get enough of. To think, all this became possible ‘cus some bloke knocked me over on the sidewalk, it really is quite the hallmark movie setup. Being the main character for once isn’t so bad.

Hans cuddled me for another hour while he asked how I used to celebrate Christmas, but that conversation took a nose-dive and he ended up pissed at how my family had treated me, so, we switched to talking about our favourite things instead. It was too easy talking with him, just being with him, and I didn’t have to wonder if I’d have to repeat myself, he always listened and remembered.

When he was dressing to leave I felt a knot grow in my stomach. There was still so much I didn’t know about him, where he was going and what he was doing were two of those things. But I didn’t ask, it felt like he didn’t want to share that with me yet. And, if he was a banker, perhaps there were some confidentiality issues with him sharing that stuff with me.

“You’ll be back, right?” “I’ll always come back for you, schnuki.” He kissed my forehead after that, stroked my cheek, and left while I remained staring at the door for a long moment. It felt so empty with him gone but he’d left me a little gift on the bedside table he’d instructed me to open once he’d left.

So, once I got out of my daze, I bolted over and grabbed it. I was as curious as a cat and ripped open the envelope only to find a little note and a wad of cash. Like, a whole wad of it. “Spend it all before I return, I dare you, my sweat treat. Oh, Hans, you’re too bloody much!” I laughed while checking just how much I was supposed to spend, I damn near keeled over at the full two grand he’d left behind. How am I supposed to spend two grand in just a couple of days? Can I give it away as tips? I mean, surely servants don’t earn that much and it’s Christmas time too. Would that count as spending it though?

I went to bed wondering where he was going, and what to do with the money he’d left for me, and how rich the man I was falling in love with really was. Thinking of all the gifts, where he had us staying, and now the cash he’d left behind, golly, it nearly made me uncomfortable to think of. I was a nobody, from a nowhere town, with a less-than-desirable place in life. How was I supposed to be in his life, and be what he wanted and needed? Was I enough for him at the end of it all? I still wasn’t quite sure why he liked me so much, then again, I knew very little of him too yet I was sure he was the one for me — so, was it really so silly to think he felt the same?

***

I’d given half of the money away. I just couldn’t spend it on myself. The concierge had been super helpful in ordering a silly-expensive coat for Hans that I used 800 of the 2,000 on and then I’d used about 200 buying some extra room service, and then some 1,000 as tips for the workers and a Secret Santa fund for the children at the Darlington Hospital which the resort had a little tin for with an information pamphlet about it all.

I also ended up buying a Christmas card from the reception that I sent off to Martha, letting her know I’d left and was doing well with the German gentleman she liked so much. I had reminded her to put her teeth in while eating and not give the fat little dog she loved so much too many treats and then ended it all with well-wishes and a Happy Christmas wish too.

I was lounging in bed two days after Hans had left, flicking through the channels on the TV while sipping some hot cocoa. I watched a commercial for dog's teeth and a treat that supposedly helped keep them clean and then the news came on as I sat myself up, cross-legged with my hands wrapped around the mug tightly.

“Tonight, the unfolding of events at a large Newcastle bank left many shocked. Just an hour ago, four men entered while wearing rifles, and in what must be a record-breaking unfolding of events, in a mere three minutes and fifty-six seconds, the vault had been cracked, emptied, and the men had fled the scene. No civilians were harmed, and no shots were fired. The police were at the scene less than a minute after the alarm was pulled, which was not until after the events had passed.” Gosh, it’s Christmas time, who’d rob people around Christmas? I wondered while sipping my coco, watching the screen. “As the police investigate, we have video footage of the men in question. Four white men, neither of their faces being captured on any of the cameras in the bank, but this is what they look like in the available footage.”

There was hot cocoa all over the bed, it had spurted out of my mouth as a silhouette I’d have known anywhere filled the screen along with three others. “FOUR MINUTES!” I shrieked while looking at the blurry image of Hans’ back, his perfect hair and straight shoulder dressed in that beautiful coat of his seemed to damn near burn my eyes. “The police say these men are extremely dangerous, with witnesses claiming three of the men spoke in German we implore all civilians to be wary and if you should see the men in question do not approach. Call the police straight off,” the news lady said further but I could barely hear it.

My mind ran rampant, spinning with all thoughts possible while the news turned to the next event of the evening. My hands cramped around the mug and I couldn’t stop my bloody lip from trembling or my stomach from filling with the sensation of dread. I’d been a daft muppet. A stupid, blabbering, silly-nilly living in a delulu world where rich German men who cared and listened were honest bankers and no danger to the world at all. Bloody hell! I’m in love with a criminal! I stuttered out a breath, one of my hands covering my mouth. “I’m in love… with a bank robber,” I whispered while I cried silent tears of hurt and worry.

I paced the length of the room for several minutes while trying to shut my mind up. The thoughts were an endless barrage of anxiously hurt and worried words I couldn’t stop. I tried in every manner possible to figure out what the bloody hell to do, how it all had gone to pot, how I wasn’t running toward a better life with an honest man who spoils and pampers me — no, no I was running away from an honest life to be with a bloody bank robber who I knew absolutely nothing about! “God, I’m so fucking stupid!”

The clock struck midnight, and still I paced. Back and forth, back and forth. My mind was in shambles but worse than that, my heart hurt and all my feelings were screwing themselves over to be at the center of attention. Why do I just want to crawl up in his arm, talk it alllll out and have him make it sound sane? Have I lost my marbles? Gone mad? Why am I not legging it right out of here?!

I fell asleep while tossing and turning, trying to make sense of my thoughts, arguing against myself — I mean, I hadn’t exactly seen his face or anything, but I knew it was Hans on that news channel. I knew it. Yet I fell asleep with the final thought of wanting him to hold me and make it all make sense.

***

I was a wreck. Everything was topsy-turvy. I had my bag packed but never left. I’d almost called a cab, yet I never did. I swore myself blue over having spent the money he had left — money I could have used to leave, hide, run away, and never speak a word of any of it ever again. Ha! Sure, as if I could ever keep my mouth shut.

I glared at the fire in the hearth of the room, I wasn’t unfamiliar with keeping a fire going to stay warm so stoking it and lighting it had been no issue. The warmth, that was another thing altogether. I felt cold to my bones, even if I was tingly warm on the outside. My nose was even slightly dusted with sweat from sitting so close to the roaring fire beyond the glass doors. The room was sweltering, the air a bit bad given how much oxygen the fire consumed, and I felt a bit dizzy, to be honest, but I couldn’t make myself move.

It had been three days since I saw the news. I’d gone over every bloody detail of everything since I met Hans several times. Especially the phone calls he’d been on. I could no longer go to delulu land and pretend it wasn’t him, I knew it was, there was no other explanation. How bloody perfect this is. The bank robber and the blabbering missy who can’t keep her mouth shut. He won’t come back to me, will he? How could he ever trust my blabbering mouth? We don’t even know each other! But that thought didn’t sit right with me.

After everything that had happened, I was wholly in love with the annoyingly handsome bloke with his charming smiles and cheeky smirks. No matter how silly that was, how stupid it made me, I couldn’t make myself leave when there was even a small chance he’d return for me. And what then? Hmm? Pretend you don’t know? Keep quiet about his secret so he won’t think you’ll blabber? Come on, Lulu… And why am I calling myself that god-awful name?!

“What the— Schnuki!” Hans' hands were on me the next second, I hadn’t even had time to turn my head when his voice filled the room. “Hans?” I asked, feeling disoriented and half-asleep. “What are you doing?!” His hands left me and he ran through the room in a blur of a grey coat. He threw the balcony doors open wide. Cold, crisp air flooded the room and I blinked rapidly.

He was on me the next second. “Up, up,” he said but then grabbed me and hoisted me up bridal style before carrying me out on the balcony. I inhaled with a gasp, feeling all the drowsiness disappear and my vision cleared while a string of curses (it sounded like) left Hans’ mouth, spoken in German before he sat me down on my feet.

His hands grabbed my warm face, the sweat now chilled by the December air. “Are you insane?” he asked in a rush while his eyes searched mine. “I was cold,” I managed to push out while my head ran away with me — all my thoughts coming back with a rush. “You could have died,” he snarled before tugging me close and wrapping me in his arms. Blimey, he smelled so good. Felt so infuriatingly good to be close to. “So could you,” I whispered. “What?” “Mr Bank Robber,” I only said, feeling too tired to deal with any of it now that he was finally back with me.

He stiffened all around me. “You know,” he hummed darkly, his voice far harsher than ever before. “Hard to miss when you were on the news.” “You recognised me from that ?” he asked, leaning back to look at me with widened eyes. “Pffth, I’d know you anywhere.” “Should I be worried or flattered?” “I don’t know, are you leaving me behind ‘cus I talk too much and you feel like you can’t trust me after everything I’ve trusted you with? Including leaving everything behind after meeting you only twice and knowing absolute piss about you?” My words turned angry, fearful really. “Schnuki, calm down for me,” Hans hushed gently, his features softening once more while he looked down at me as I shook in his arms.

He kissed my forehead. “You shouldn’t tell a woman to calm down, has the opposite bloody effect, ya’ know…” He chuckled at that. “I only said so because you feel very anxious, feel free to go off on me anytime you like, little treat. I don’t mind it.” “Sure, bet you're used to having people screaming at you and around you and blurting out nonsense in the heat of the moment.” “You never speak nonsense, don’t say such a thing,” he admonished. “But I do need to know if my secret is safe with you?” “Pffth, as if I could ever say anything to anyone that wouldn’t be good for the man I... You’re a foul git sometimes, you know that?” “Hmm? How so?” “Leaving me here while going out to rob—” “Inside,” Hans said, interrupting me. Course, right, inside, talking about bank robbing on the balcony where anyone can hear is stupid and dangerous, wow, gosh, I’m fucking this right up from the first minute. Stellar job, Lulu. Stellar job…

Hans closed the door behind us and swiftly grabbed my hand to lead me to the bed. He sat me down before closing the vent to the fire, smothering the flames to near embers, and then sat next to me while taking my hand in his once more. I stared at him, and he looked at me.

After a minute of silence, my tears began to flow. “You’re leaving me behind, aren’t you?” “Tell me why I’m a foul git sometimes,” he countered while squeezing my hand. I snivelled and took a deeper breath. “You just left me here, while going off to rob a giant national bank without a word about it. What if you’d been killed? Or captured? Or just hurt, or whatever? I would have just been bloody sitting her until they would have kicked me out for lack of reservation and money. You just left me behind without a bloody word!”

Hans looked at me, a baffled expression taking over his handsome face. “That’s what I’m a foul git for?” “No. You’re a foul git sometimes ‘cus you don’t talk to me. I talk to you all the time, about everything that pops into my head almost.” I glared at him, but it was hard with the tears and snivelling. “But I know nothing of you, like, not a bloody thing. Are you even German?” I asked, daring him to lie to me with my eyes but he just chuckled. “Schnuki, my sweet treat, my little bean spiller,” he said while tugging me closer. “I’m very much German. And you’re a delightful surprise, know that?” I scrunched up my face, swiping at my cheeks. “What?” “I was going to tell you, in due time. I mean, can’t really continue hoaxing you. You’d want to know about the money, my trips, my never staying in one place for long, and such things, no?” I nodded. “Yet here you are, a snivelling mess bawling about me not telling you from the very first moment I’m an international criminal, a successful one mind you,” he said with cheek to his voice and a smirk I couldn’t help but chuckle at.

Hans turned slightly, making us nearly come face to face on the bed. “I knew you were special the moment I met you. Just something about you,” he said and my shoulders softened at the sweet words. “Didn’t think you’d be quite this sweet and understanding, but I’m glad to have been wrong for once.” “You’re not getting out of this by sweet-talking me, spill the tea. All of it. If I’m going to follow an international criminal all over the bloody globe I’ll be damned if I don’t know everything, ‘kay?” I said, feeling as if the world had turned upside down. “I won’t let you leave me behind like everyone else. You’ve ruined any chance of that with everything you’ve done and said so far, I don’t want to be the abandoned puppy anymore.”

Hans kissed my knuckles, letting his lips stroke over them a bit before he lowered our hands again. It sent a shiver down my spine and I really had gone completely bonkers because of him. Not any worse a life than what I had, better even perhaps. Always wanted to see the world, maybe I’ll get to do just that now, even if it is with a criminal, I’ll be safe. I know it. “A dime for your thoughts?” I smiled at the wrongful expression. “Just thinking about seeing the world and being safe, I think I’ll be more safe with you than anyone else.” “An international criminal?” “Well, yeah, sure, but you’re not just any criminal, are you? I mean, obviously it’ll be harrowing and less than fun at times, I’m sure you’re not always staying in posh settings like these,” I said, waving my hand about the room while Hans nodded reluctantly.

“But still, I think you’ll keep me safe, won’t you?” “Always, my sweet treat.” “And, I haven’t recalled a single lie you’ve told, that I know of at least.” “Never lied to you.” “Yeah, I know, and that makes me feel better about this whole thing. I mean, not your fault I didn’t press on the whole bank man thing, right? And besides, you treat me like… like I mean the world to you and you’re always listening, and talking to me like you’ve really heard what I said and you’re very caring, and sweet, and just, yeah, good, you know? It’s not like—” Hans kissed me at that, interrupting my blabbering that had turned faster with each word as my anxiety and need to explain myself as fully as possible shot through the roof.

He stopped my scrambling thoughts and kissed me until I was relaxed once more. “Didn’t mean to stop you from talking, you’re free to talk as much as you need, but you were getting too anxious, schnuki.” “T-Thank you,” I exhaled. “You’re right, I just… Just need to explain myself. I always feel a need to explain myself.” “I understand.” “Yeah, no, sure, I know you do, I’m just sorry I can’t stop myself, I know you understand, and you don’t mind, and all that, and I’m really grateful for— Oh, right, you know, sorry…” Hans chuckled at my embarrassed smile and stroked my cheek once more with his warm hand.

“Do you want to join me, then?” he asked, no pressure to it, just genuine wondering. “If you don’t mind.” “I want nothing else than have you with me at all times possible.” “Then yes, yes, please. I want to be with you, Hans.” “And I with you, but we’ll have to work on that anxiety of yours. Sometimes you’ll have to be on your own, but I will always come back for you.” “Promise?” “I promise.”

He held me tight, kissing the top of my head while I drew a deep sigh of relief, feeling like an overfilled kettle boiling too wildly, all my emotions spilling over. “You gotta cool it with the whole giver of gifts thing though… I couldn’t spend the money you left behind, I gave half of it away…” “I knew you would… You’re goodness and sweetness, all wrapped up like a delicious treat and that wrapping will be of the finest kind imaginable. I’ll make sure of it.” “Hans!” I scolded with a laugh. “I will always spoil you, schnuki. You deserve nothing less than the best of everything, always.” Then I hope you’ll enjoy the coat I got for you… A gift from you to me, became a gift from me to you, don’t really know how valid that is but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Now, my little treat,” Hans said after a moment, “how would you feel about spending Christmas in Alaska?” “Alaska?!” My eyes were wide with something I could only think to look like unbridled joy. “It’s perfect for the winter holiday, no?” “I’d love to,” I confessed. “Thought you would,” he said with one of those charming smiles and a twinkle in his clear eyes.

Blimey, I was going to Alaska with an international Criminal. What a way to spend my first Christmas away from home. Bloody hell I wanna call Dad and tell him to fucking shove his mints up his arse, I was going to see the whole damn world with the man of my dreams. “I think I made it,” I mumbled into Hans' chest. “Whatever you thought before those words, I agree, sweetie. I feel the same way,” Hans whispered before holding me even tighter while I inhaled the wonderful scent of him.

“I… Hans, I love you…” “Schnuki, my sweet treat, my Christmas miracle,” Hans said in such a deep tone it was difficult to hear him clearly. “I love you too, since the moment you smiled at me for the first time.” I shivered at the sweet words and buried my face in his neck. Life was so perfectly imperfect I couldn’t keep the laughs and tears from spilling over. I was where I was supposed to be, where life would take us I couldn’t even begin to think about but I knew, no matter what, Hans would always come back for me and I would always be his. My gentleman criminal.

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: I just love this serial fic so much, gosh, feels so good they sorted it out and have mutually agreed they re to stay together and just-, travel the world and care for each other and just-, waaaaaaah! 😍👏 I know I was a day late with this one, I'm really sorry but I hope you feel these nearly 7k makes up for it - and you'll still get today's fic later today as well! I'm gonna write at record speed today - have to, my entire weekend is full of Christmas celebrating (I'll squeeze in some writing as often as possible so you'll get fics daily though).

Gosh, feels a bit sad to say bye-bye to these two, maybe I'll revisit them at some point in the future but I can't make any promises. It's really difficult to write this one for me (the literal language use I mean) so we'll see. I kinda like leaving them here too - it's a sweet ending that's closed but also open 🥰

Q: What's something you really enjoyed/liked/feel good about that happened or you did during 2023? A: for me, it's a few things but publishing my OW writing is probably the biggest thing really 🥰👏

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky  @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

[unsettlingcreature]

TTRPG OC names and their meanings

inspired by @sylvienerevarine, meanings taken from behindthename

I don't think I need to say much about Perseus, my beloved Blorbo Bingus. He was a templar in a homebrew D&D 5e campaign setting called Turrillium Tales, with his final multiclass being Bloodhunter/Cleric!

Eren is one of my currently played characters being part of a homebrew D&D 5e isekai campaign. I love them so much, they're such a rat bastard who causes problems on purpose. Currently their class is Bard with a level of Fighter.

Allyn was a character for a one-shot in Turrillium where chances of survival were very slim. And yeah, they didn't survive. I think they were an Artificer Warlock, playing them as a sniper which was really weird and fun.

Cassian was a wizard and my first evil character ever, playing in a homebrew D&D 5e setting called the Iron Cities. He eventually ended up in the hands of the DM after I clicked that the entity we faced was the Hungry Prince and had Cassian immediately switch sides. The DM was shocked I'd made the connection so quickly (literally within the first minute). He underestimated how much of a lore-whore I am :3

Matthieu is a Pathfinder 2e character I'll be playing soon, hopefully! I have successfully made a character that half the players are simping for, which I'm very proud of. He's a changeling swashbuckler who can do no wrong despite his past murder.

Orion was a character for a D&D campaign that survived only one session which I'M DEFINITELY NOT UPSET ABOUT, NO, NOPE, DEFINITELY NOT. I wrote a lot of lore and backstory for her but it was all super specific to that homebrew setting so I don't think I'll get to play her again without some major revamping. She was a druid of the stars!

Baine was another Turrillium character for a side campaign. She was a weird Monk/Cleric multiclass based on healing as much as possible. She made the other party members do impromptu art therapy.

Morrigan is another character I'm currently playing in a magical school setting! She's very sweet and vulnerable to peer pressure. She got sent to the tornado zone three times in a row and she did not like it at all.

Ataraxis was originally made for a Curse of Strahd campaign that died after one session and a few years later, I was able to bring them back to hop into another campaign! They were a paladin/bard multiclass. Sea shanty paladin!!!! Also the second of my characters to have a threesome???????

Natela was a character for a two-shot in the same setting as Eren. It was very fun playing as someone from the world, rather than someone who got isekai-ed into it. She was a bard and a delightful little bastard.

I play a lot of bards and a lot of bastards, I'm sorry :(

[johnwickb1tsch]

Hi Julia! This is the guest on Bittersweet (AO3) who had just recently started watching the JW films.

I just finished part 4 and I have some Questions that I am frankly too emotional to find answers to and I need a friend to tell me the facts straight.

MAJOR MAJOR JOHN WICK 4 SPOILERS AHEAD IMMEDIATELY STOP READING RN.

What was that ending? Wht TF was that ending? Is he... is he really dead? Just like that? We don't get to see him go back to his car or his dog, get to enjoy his freedom except for a few seconds? I am balling my eyes out. I thought the grave stone was fake- just an added precaution to stop ppl from following him afterwrds- tht he faked his death or something. I googled it and 1 article says he is well and truly dead, other said he is dead but it's NOT the duel that killed him, while a third said we might have a 5th movie in production. I am so sooo confused and have I mentioned I am crying?? Cause I kid you not I have snot flowing down my face. I didn't realize what kind of cathartic fix it Bittersweet truly is. But I will re read it now with a new lens. Omggggg it's like I was reading it in the most honest reader lens and now I will understand John's action with a completely different depth. Ahhh tears again...

On another note in the first reply to comment you mentioned they took out clip of him bookbibding due to time constraints. Is there any clip of that somewhere. Becoz goddamit if I don't see John enjoying something stupidly domestic and simple rn I WILLL POP A VIEN.

Sorry for turning your ask box into my impromptu therapy session. But John has literally become an obsession right now. I so needed this man to - at some point catch a break and look what they did to him!! I am not mad, I am livid!!

Ohhh bby! I'm so sorry! I'm crying with you all over again! That ending was the cruelest! So, supposedly JW5 is in the pipeline, so I choose to believe He Lives! And Winston helped him fake his death with the tombstone. Whether that is canon true has yet to be seen, really. 😭😭😭

I know it was a dramatic and poignant ending but seriously, after everything that man went through, fuck them if that's truly the end. I'm so tired of Hollywood trying to be clever and totally ignoring what people actually need as a cathartic ending to something they're emotionally invested in. I think I've hated the ending of every movie/show franchise I've ever loved. By now i just expect to be kicked in the balls, metaphorically speaking.

As far as the bookbinding scene, to my knowledge, they have yet to surface to the public. There are pictures tho. There's a post around here somewhere. I'll try to dig it up for u.

Sending you hugs boo! This is what fic is for! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[reflectionofacolorlesssky]

RCS: I mean, I don't remember anything too bad. They'd just toss me gifts sometimes or talk to me through citizen drones. Always talking highly of me...Hmh.

RCS: Sometimes they even came to my chamber. Photos for ads existed for a reason, hah.

[LIVE BROADCAST]

PRIVATE - Three Small Feathers in a Lake of Quills [@OCEANREMNANTS]; Reflection of a Colorless Sky [@REFLECTIONOFACOLORLESSSKY].

---

<TSF> hey, it's feathers. or quills, if you'd rather~!

<TSF> i realized i never gave you an update on the whole situation, other than 'i am probably not dead'. my own assistant came over and helped out, and i'm... definitely not dead. at least, now, i'm not.

<TSF> ...

<TSF> hope you're alright!

RCS: Oh, you didn't die! That's good.

RCS: I'm okay, I'd say. Relatively- I'm just glad you are.

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

Erin, my friend, I think the world needs specifically Kiki/Jackae with "My flight was canceled and I went home to find my ex cheating on me, so now I'm at this pub"

Max, my friend, you are absolutely correct.

I'm doing this one first since this doesn't technically take place during the holiday season. So use your imagination for when this takes place, since it's a prequel to Squirrel's Trip.

Read on ao3

"My flight got canceled, so I went home to find my husband cheating on me with my brother, so now I'm here at this pub."

Kiki stared at her friend blankly as Jackae took another swig of pinot grigio after her rambled speech. All she was planning was to just say hi and then go back to dinner with her family, but now she's in an impromptu therapy session.

Kiki took a deep breath, "Okay, can you start from the beginning? Because that was a lot for me to take in after sitting through my kid's soccer game."

Jackae nodded as she put her empty wine glass down on the bar. "I was supposed to go to my old coworker's wedding, but they're having bad weather in Calgary, so the flight got canceled and they didn't have anything until tomorrow," she explained as she took a quick break to eat a fry from her plate before continuing.

"I texted my husband to let him know what happened and I was getting a ride home from Grace. He never texted me back, and I found him in our bed with my brother. So I screamed at them to get out of my house, and now I'm here." she shrugged apathetically.

"Wow, Jackae. That's...that's a lot." Kiki said. She wasn't sure how else to comfort her friend. " I'm sorry to hear that." she put a comforting hand on Jackae's shoulder.

The other woman shrugged, "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now." The bartender refilled her wine glass as she took a sip of the provided water. "It kinda feels like I should have known it was coming, but it just came out of nowhere."

Kiki tried to sit up a little straighter, hoping to appear more like the put-together friend that Jackae needed right now. "Well if there's anything that you need, just let me know. I'm here for you right now," she said, taking a glance at her family at the table across the dining room.

Her husband was staring at the waitress's cleavage and her sons were still stuffing their faces of the chicken strips they ordered. She didn't think they needed her right now.

Jackae hopped off the bar stool and took another quick sip of wine. "I need to pee, I'll be right back," she said before navigating her way to the restrooms.

With her friend gone, Kiki looked around at the pub around her. Families and groups of friends were all chatting and eating, giving life to an otherwise mundane weekday evening.

Kiki felt so busy keeping up with her kid's extracurricular activities and sports games. All that and keeping up with making sure her husband is happy and all the staff is paid, she never gets a chance to have any time out with her friends.

She watched the mounted television in the corner of the room that was playing a hockey game. The channel went on a commercial break, showing different ads for upcoming shows and restaurant specials. But the last commercial that played was the one that attracted much more of her attention.

"Come stay with us at the Golden Beaver Resort! Here we have invigorating pilates classes, a relaxing spa, daily black-and-white parties, and trips on a private yacht! Rooms are booking up fast, so call now for a special rate. The Golden Beaver Resort LLC is not responsible for any causes of injury, death, or infidelity that may occur on our properties. Rooms booked through third-party sellers may not be eligible for a full refund. We'll see you there!"

The commercial had lively instrumental music, and attractive looking actors as guests and staff members. The resort looked beautiful, with private lake access and spacious rooms. Then she had thought of the perfect thing that her heartbroken friend needed, how she can help.

As Kiki ignored the last part of the commercial, she excitedly spotted Jackae coming back from the restrooms. She had the perfect idea that was going to help not just Jackae, but all her friends.

"I know what you need!" she said while beaming a smile as Jackae got back onto the barstool.

"What's that? A divorce?" she asked as she settled back on the chair, picking up her glass again.

"No, you need-" Kiki stopped herself for a moment, "Well, that too since your husband is a cheating asshole. But you need a vacation!"

Jackae looked away from her wine glass and stared at Kiki after hearing her suggestion, "I just caught my husband cheating on me and you are telling me to just go on a vacation?"

"Well, yeah I am suggesting that," Kiki said, trying to defend her recommendation. "Dwelling on this isn't going to make the problem go away. Maybe spending some time away could help you relax."

Jackae tilted her head in thought, "It's not an awful idea, but who would go on a vacation with a miserable divorcee like me?"

"I'll go." Kiki immediately said. "And we can see if Amber and Ronnie are free. I'm sure Grace won't say no to planning our trip, either," she added.

"Huh," Jackae said as she thought for a moment. "I guess we can also invite my sister too so she can have a break from her fabulous life," she said sarcastically.

"Oooh! Jill would love to go too!" Kiki excitedly said, completely missing Jackae's sarcasm. "I'll call everyone in the morning, this is going to be the best vacation ever!" she waved goodbye to her friend as she went back to her family as her husband paid the bill.

Kiki could hardly contain her excitement for the rest of the night. She wanted to give Jackae the vacation she deserved, and nothing was going to stop her from this trip becoming a total disaster.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

howdy ! i've never been matched up before and saw you were doing them so i'm curious to know who you'd match me with ^-^

i think i'm supposed to give a little description of myself first right ? Here i go

i'd say i'm a really stubborn person who doesn't care about others opinions and walk by my own rhythm but my anxiety has kept me from doing so and made me really shy and introverted , if i asked a friend to describe me they'd probably say anger issues (i've been getting better from them and that makes me really proud) and that i'm a people pleaser, i like helping others even when ik they wouldn't do the same for me ( don't put me in the same room as azul cus ik he'll scam me 😭) my hobbies consist of drawing and listening to music , i really like to try my hand at any type of arts and crafts but if I don't get if right the first time i'll probably give up on it 😅

okay so relationship wise i'm looking for someone extroverted who will make time for me and communicate with me , i'm tired of introverted boys who don't put any effort and don't communicate and just let me do all the work . i just want someone who i feel comfortable with , who ik i can joke with without walking on eggshells around them , someone who can be my bedt friend and lover , I mostly show affection through teasing and joking since i have a hard time talking about my feelings .

for the additional information: i'm an Aries sun , Leo moon , and Sagittarius rising and i'm an intp if that helps

sorry this ended up being way too long and clearly i talked as if i was at a therapy session but i hope you don't mind and find time to do my request,if not please just ignore this 😅

I AM HONOURED TO WRITE YOUR FIRST MATCH-UP! *shoots self-love at you* Oh, here he is!

Kalim Al-Asim

Before everything else, he’s your friend. There to support you in his optimistic, sunshiney, well, Kalim, way. Even before ~da romance~ he is very forward with his feelings and would casually say, “I love you!” But one day everything just came together and he realized that yes, he loves you, and not in a friend way!

Yeah, the two of you are both people-pleasers, but through some growth together, you can both put your foot down and assert yourselves! Kalim will be there to reassure you in anxious situations as well. But he likes seeing you walk to the rhythm of your own drum.

He would giggle and tease you back, albeit his teasing is very lighthearted. He takes the joking like a champ, and you need not to worry about walking on eggshells around him.

Kalim is an open book, he may be busy, but he’ll set aside time for you… or just ditch his duties :D Why would he want to discuss silk prices when he could hang out with his favourite person?!

Even though he would be super excited to see what you created in your sketchbook, he also respects your boundaries. He may ask, but he won’t push. He is your number one supporter though. You don’t like it? Well, Kalim thinks it’s lovely!

Speaking of art, if he so happens to overhear that you want some high end supplies, well, you are now set for life! Kalim would also make you some drawings, or add a post it note on your sketchbook. “This is STUNNING! But not as stunning as you! :D ”

Impromptu dance party! He likes listening to music with you, be it just sitting quietly and moving his head to the rhythm with you, or dancing about and laughing. He would also invite you along to Light Music Club if you ever wanted to see him perform. “This one is for you, my sweet bee!” *queue drum solo*

He would also be there, and be more serious if you wanted to tell him something; be it something small that was bugging you, or something heavy that was weighing you down. He may be cheerful, but he knows when something is on your mind.

"You know, I'm always here if you want to talk, sweet bee."

Hope you like your match-up, Melice! Also, it's an honour to write your first one!

Yes, he calls you his sweet bee; people may think you're "angry" but he just sees a sweet friend trying to live their life. Plus, he also took note that you like the lil fuzzy pollinators, so you are now Sweet Bee!

[envythemouse]

All-time Will/Hannibal recs (Part 2)

Greed by ElizaD

Summary: Will agrees to let Hannibal take him shopping and winds up spending the day as a spoiled sugar baby. He enjoys it more than he should.

Envy’s notes: This whole fic is just Hannibal spoiling Will and I’m living for it.

Fine line between this and that by LaynaVile

Summary: What happens when you fall in love with your fiance's brother-in-law?

Envy’s notes: Sorry, this summary was way too long to put here so: Alana is dating Hannibal, Molly is dating Will, they’re sisters. Hannibal and Will meet and instantly feel a connection. There’s some Alana and Molly bashing. I love how sweet Hannibal is in this one, the status difference and don’t get me started on the dance scene (with Hannibal buying Will new expensive shoes). I consider this a very romantic fic with plenty of hurt/comfort.

Symphony by Raven_Song

Summary: While living together after the Fall, Hannibal discovers that Will has been hiding a secret talent: he can play piano. Entranced by the music, Hannibal decides he must hear Will play again, and he will do anything to make that happen.

Envy’s notes: Why are there so little fics where Will is musically talented? I expected at least one fic where Will plays violin or cello but no, there’s none.

Comfort and Care by StratsWrites

Summary: They’d started keeping track of how much time passed from the time Hannibal showed up, to the time he put his hands on Will in some fashion. The record was thirty-seven seconds, but Price had ten bucks on Hannibal beating it by September.

Envy’s notes: Sweet!Hannibal who loves PDA and doesn’t let Will’s brain boil itself.

Jealous by HyphenL

Summary: Will walks on an impromptu date between Hannibal and Alana, which makes him very jealous. And jealous Will is more difficult to handle than Hannibal would have accounted for.

Envy’s notes: Very rude!Will crashing Hannibal and Alana’s date. Nice!Alana.

I could love you with my eyes closed by nbcravenstag

Summary: In Will Graham's three and a half decades on this planet, no one has ever made him feel like this.

or, Hannibal is a little TOO good in bed, leaving his boy a little... emotional.

Envy’s notes: Basically Will having mind-blowing sex and getting overwhelmed.

Unwanted Curiosity by CanBeCarnivorous

Summary: Will's never been one to celebrate his birthday, leaving Hannibal all the more confused when he finds a box in the closet. A box filled with birthday supplies.

Envy’s notes: Will celebrates all his dogs’ birthdays with party hats and everything. I need this to be real. I love Will’s dogs.

Potentially Paternal by ThighHighAnon

Summary: “You speak little of your father.” Hannibal observed during one of Will’s therapy sessions.

Will had never spoken poorly of him but he’d also never sung his praises. It was hard to know what their relationship was like.

“You’ve asked me about my mother once and now we’re onto my father.. wading into family waters once more. Should I point out the type of psychiatry this is, again?”

Hannibal smirked softly, “Lazy, I know. And yet I still find myself eager for a response that is not a deflection.”

Hannibal thinks Will has some ‘issues’ regarding paternal figures.

Envy’s notes: Another sweet!Hannibal fic where he takes care of Will.

Don't Want You Worried Bout a Thing by sourweather

Summary: Hannibal has been putting Will into Subspace for their therapy. An unfortunate interruption brings some things to light. Sequel to 'I'll Take Care of You'

Envy’s notes: Will experiences a subdrop and has to go to a crime scene right after.

A Bride Crowned in Water by willowoftheriver

Summary: Will's empathy isn't scientifically explainable. Too bad she didn't know that before she came to Mount Hikami.

The Immortal Flower has withered. Now there must be another.

Envy’s notes: This is one of my favourites even though it’s female!Will. In case you haven’t played Project Zero, there’s an ability some people have called ‘glancing’, the ability to touch a spirit at the moment of defeat and witness a vision of its last moments. Sound familiar? It’s basically what Will does.

So in Project Zero, the Shrine Maidens train this ability. They would watch the people who went to the mountain to commit suicide and witnessed their final moments. Taking the bad energy away. When the Shrine Maiden has absorbed too much of that energy, they’re ritually put to rest and sealed away. Which has gone wrong in the past but they theorise it would be better if the maiden wasn’t buried alone and had a husband with her.

That’s the best explanation I can give. You should really play the wii u game, it’s good.

Anyway, the team is on a case in Japan, Hannibal included. Strange things happen.

[griefbuilt]

                         Got a secret? Don’t keep it, it’ll take you to the grave.

Good evening, residents of McKinley. If you’ll please find your assigned seats, we have a special treat in store for you tonight. As you take your seats, you’ll notice a placecard in front of you with one simple instruction, “confess thy secrets or sacrifice thy neighbor to earn entry to leave.”. Go on now, look to your left and to your right. Is your secret worth your neighbor’s life? No, no. Don’t try to leave – you can’t. See, we had this planned far ahead. As soon as you took your seats, you were spelled to them until you either sacrificed your neighbor’s life or confessed a dark secret. You didn’t think this was going to be a cheery holiday dinner did you? There’s been far too many secrets and not enough lives falling victim for the abundance of supernatural beings here. One way or another, the night will end in our favor. Secrets or blood spilled - it’s your choice. So? Go on now, confess your secret or sacrifice your neighbor. We’ll be watching.

well,  ain’t  that  a  bitch  ?  now  oliver  wasn’t  about  to  get  all  misty-eyed  and  forlorn  over  a  few  little  secret,  but  goddamn  would  it  be  easier  if  he  could  just  keep  this  one  to  himself  -----  or  if  isaac  hadn’t  come  around  and  started  raising  his  own  seven  kinds  of  hell.  there  was  enough  people  around  who  thought  he  went  back  on  his  raising  without  that  lecture  from  big  brother.  but  that  lecture  wasn’t  nothing  compared  to  what  scarlett  had  to  be  feeling  right  about  now.  jesus,  poor  girl....oliver  bit  back  a  wince  as  she  spoke.  god  was  whoever  wanted  this  a  right  son-of-a-bitch.  she  wasn’t  about  to  get  any  judgement  from  him  (  fuck,  he  thought  the  bitch  was  better  off  six  feet  under  )  or  the  rest  of  the  pack,  but  she  didn’t  deserve  this  impromptu  little  heart-to-heart.  and  then  went  isaac,  and  lord  almighty,  why  did  his  brother  choose  to  become  a  pacifist  at  the  worst  times  ?  clearly  this  family  wasn’t  no  good  and  some  people  just  had  it  coming.....speaking  of  

“  y’all  was  right.  i  did  kill  my  daddy.  “  what  was  the  point  in  sweet  talking  ?  they’d  always  end  up  at  the  same  place:  he  killed  jasper  steele,  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  dead.  “  -don’t  regret  it,  neither.  daddy  had  it  comin’.  “  even  the  lord  himself  would  agree  with  that  one....just  not  isaac.  goddamn  isaac  with  his  pretty  morality  and  misplaced  loyalty.  that  man  hadn’t  been  good  to  the  either  of  them,  but  maybe  it  was  easier  to  pretend  when  you  were  the  favorite.  with  a  sigh,  he  turned  to  look  at  his  brother.  “  i  ain’t  sorry  ‘bout  it,  isaac.  i’m  real  sorry  you’s  stuck  on  him,  but  i  ain’t  sorry  for  killin’  him.  “  that  would  be  a  fight  for  later;  apparently  they  were  going  to  have  lots  of  those.  “  now,  not  that  this  pack  therapy  session  hasn’t  been  real  nice,  but  i  came  here  for  a  fuckin’  meal.  i  ain’t  gonna  pass  that  up  because  of  a  little  spectacle.  “  and  with  that,  he  dug  his  knife  into  the  meat  of  the  turkey.  

[annionebutme]

"I’m deeply sorry for the messages I sent to Clint, not just for having sent them but for having had those thoughts to begin with. That particular day, I was experiencing severe suicidal ideation to the point of writing a ‘goodbye’ letter and planning to act later that afternoon. I was upset that I never got to see you before your trip, but that doesn’t excuse what I said. I know you’ve done a lot for me, for which I’m greatly appreciative, but was blinded to all the good you’ve done for me by my extremely depressive mindset at the time. They aren’t thoughts or feelings about you that I normally have. I regretted everything I shared with him later that day and called the Mental Health Hotline that day in the hopes to find a way to finally escape the darkness that’s been enveloping me for the last few years, and has gained ground since my back pain limited my mobility.

I’m aligned with several mental health services and am seeking more support to try and avoid such outbursts and hurting the ones I love, while also meaning friendships can be friendships, and not impromptu counselling sessions.

I know being my friend hasn’t been easy for you given my frequent emotional distresses, and I can only thank you for being as friend for as long as you were. I didn’t expect friendship to last that long. I do care deeply for you, and I don’t think anyone will ever appreciate your friendship more than I did. And I just wish I could’ve done more to have made the friendship worth it for you, even just to make you smile like I’ve seen other people do. I know you’ve done a lot of the heavy lifting in the friendship we had, particularly when Marc died and after I came out as transgender.

I just wish things could have gone better, that I could have been more resilient and held myself together better while suffering from the back pain and isolation. It hasn’t been easy given the events that preceded it this year, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on the people that cared for me.

Again, I’m deeply sorry, for everything. Not just for those messages I sent to Clint. For everything. For relying too heavily on you for support over the years. For going silent when things went bad. For questioning your friendship. For everything. I’m also sorry for not responding to your message months ago. I was afraid a conflict between us would invoke more suicidal thoughts, although I couldn’t escape them as it was and was hospitalised again that week. I'm in hospital again for suicidal thoughts and plans.

I just hope that you can forgive me one day, and maybe afford me a chance to mend things with you. Sorry for everything. I’ve been trying, but this was just the year that defeated me."

This apology was... hollow. So hollow. It's obvious thats she's hoping I won't know that she's been lying about me to our friend group and trying to get them to intervine of her behalf, and it's such a Bianca apology I've gotten the same one in some form like 20-30times. It's hard to explain but when you get it once it's an apology. Again and again over every insignificant thing you start to see through the misdirection.

I've also got pretty extreme mental and physical health problems. I've had to leave my preferred line of work due to my health issues. I've struggled with sleep to dangerous levels. I've had to talk myself away from suicide, and during all of this I was supporting Bianca. I was talking her down off the ledge, giving her financial support to get more therapy and to aid with her transition, going to bat for her when she was facing discrimination in our organisation, giving validation and emotional support... and the apology I get is 1% apology 99% "I have mental health problems" as if i doesn't know better than any of our other friends what she's going through. She does this every time for every tiny thing (and all this year long drama is over something that could be solved with a 5 minute conversation so believe me these are very tiny things). I'm genuinely just so bloody exhausted of it at this point for every minor apology to be a mental health session and I know that if i go "So Clint and Jane both say you messaged them to say you've already apologised to me and could they step in." I know I'm getting ghosted again. So i just say

Glad you're getting yourself sorted out. All the best for the future.

< Part 2

Part 4 >

[umichenginabroad]

Week 11: bones+church=bone church

Zder Búh (how miners used to say hi!),

Welcome back readers! I hope you all had a nice week, I’m excited to share everything I’ve been up to lately. The warm front extended into this week, so I took advantage of the beautiful weather and skipped some of my classes to explore the nature around Prague. I started reading more and also practiced a bit of meditation. I felt like I’d been running around like crazy and definitely needed this time to myself, so overall very grateful for the tranquility this week brought me.

Class out, Petřín in!

Like I said, this week we had perfect weather, so I couldn't resist the call to the outdoors. I made an impromptu decision to skip my architecture class and head to Petřín Hill. I made a home atop a comforting rock, and brought out my book and laptop to be “productive” out in the sun. The lack of Wi-Fi was frustrating, but I still managed to work on my blog and then finish my book. When I got bored, I roamed around the expansive gardens and parks that make up the hill. At the top is the infamous lookout tower, resembling a petite Eiffel Tower, but it’s also home to rose gardens, an observatory, old fortress walls, and crazy views of the city.

I made my way back just in time for my Essential Czech class, but definitely made the right call to skip architecture. If you’re reading this, sorry for leaving you alone Lyd <3.

Only Love is Real

This week, I got sucked into the book “Only Love is Real”. The author, a therapist who practices past regression therapy with his clients, narrates a fascinating discovery. Two of his clients, through separate sessions, he discovered to be lovers in their past lives. I found the recounted experiences deeply intriguing, especially with the semblance of scientific backing the therapy provided. I won’t spoil anything, but it did spark further interest in my own research of soul ties and meditation. 

I actually ended up practicing a few sessions of meditation myself, attempting to reach a more relaxed state of consciousness. I definitely need to practice relaxing, but hopefully one day I can reap the benefits of meditation practice.

Riegrovy Sady

My roommates found this park just a 10 minute walk away with the best views for watching the sun set behind Prague Castle. Riegrovy Sady is THE spot for kids our age to hang out on warm nights—ft. beer gardens, tons of outdoor seating, and grass to lay on. These sunset hangs are gonna become a nightly routine.

Kutna Hora

This week’s IFSA excursion was to Kutna Hora, a town an hour by train outside of Prague. We visited the Sedlec Ossuary - the Church of Bones. Yep, you heard me right… the church is made out of real human bones. Chilling, yet mesmerizing. Inside there’s a huge chandelier of bones in the center of the church, which contains at least one of every human bone. It dates back to 1278, the year the King of Bohemia sent the Sedlec Monastery’s abbot to Jerusalem, from where he brought back soil from Golgotha, or the “Holy Soil”. This made the monastery's cemetery a hot burial spot, leading to its expansion. We weren’t allowed to take pictures, but I encourage you to look it up if you’re curious!

Centuries later, in the 15th century, a Gothic church was built near this overcrowded cemetery, with its basement serving as an ossuary for the excess bones. And in 1870, a woodcarver named Frantisek Rint was hired to organize the bones, resulting in a chillingly ornate arrangement of bones. At least those who rest there, continue to rest in a sacred place.

Afterwards, we went on a mining tour through Kutna Hora’s silver mines. It was cool but not for the claustrophobic. We also toured the chocolate factory, where we pretty much got unlimited samples of all kinds of chocolate. I happened to be the only person to enjoy the 100% dark chocolate, and ended up buying a whole bar of it!

Lastly, we visited St Barbara's Cathedral. St Barbara is the patron saint of miners, highly appropriate for a town whose wealth was based entirely upon its silver mines. It’s famous for its  three-peaked roof and medieval frescoes depicting the secular life of the medieval mining town and religion that have been partially preserved.

Surrounded by so many silver stores, I couldn't resist treating myself to a new necklace, a delicate piece featuring the tree of life, a symbol that resonates deeply with me as Etz Chaim—the tree of life! Also, here’s a picture of the *ancient* train we took to the Kutna Hora main train station.

Now for some ins and outs!

Ins:

Sunshine: I wholeheartedly believe a dose of Vitamin D is the cure to all my problems and you can’t tell me otherwise. I put on sunscreen everyone, don’t worry, but I could bask in the sun all day long and live such a happy life. Praying that the sun comes back next week too!

Sunset watching: Riegrovy Sady lies on a perfect slant for sunset views over Prague Castle. Tons of kids come to the park to chill after dark; it’s home to a couple beer gardens, lots of outdoor seating, and endless grass to sit on.

Outs:

Study spaces: It’s so frustrating that the main location I do work at is in my bedroom. I have trouble separating my academic responsibilities from my at-home responsibilities, especially when there is no other quiet space to work on my schoolwork. My friends recommended a cafe that doubles as a late-night study room, but while it’s ultra convenient for them, it’s 30 minutes away by metro from where I live, and the metro closes after 12. I did a bit of work outside this week, but all that work has to be done off wifi which is tough. The only other option I really have is the lounge at our school where everyone chills and works after class, but I have raging ADHD and physically cannot get anything done when surrounded by noise and tons of friends.

Human bones ≠ architectural material: I mean, I don’t think using human remains to build anything, regardless of its holiness, would be accepted in today’s world. But the fact that the Bone Church does exist, and is still visited/used for various purposes, just seems wrong. It was very eerie visiting the church, as expected, but it felt wrong simply existing within the space amongst all the dead bodies. I hope my spirit’s not haunted now..

That’s all for now. Thanks for chillin’ with me this week, hope to see you next time!

Tak čau,

Reese Liebman

Computer Science and Engineering

Institute for Study Abroad (IFSA) CS Tech Career Accelerator in Prague, Czechia

[daremna]

Sorry for turning our fun friend hangout™ into an impromptu forced therapy session (it will happen again)