#stop demonizing adhd drugs

[brightlotusmoon]

[zagreuses-toast]

My moist playlist! This man has energy and pizazz and a whole lot of stress. This is probably the Discworld playlist I listen to most cuz it's got lots of fun songs in it. Good for walking at a quick tempo to. Reasoning for the songs under the cut

Moist has massive massive ADHD (and keeps getting handed random drugs because everyone can tell he should be medicated but no one knows what with):

A Song for Joshua Hayward by Jessica Law

Senses Working Overtime by XTC

Hyperactive! by Thomas Dolby

Endicott by Kid Creole and the Coconuts (in the way that moist can't comprehend or function in a "normal" life very well)

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen

Limelight cover by Ninja Sex Party

Seven by Sleeping At Last

Applause by Lady Gaga

Moist and Adora vibes:

Sweet Tooth by Scott Helman

One Week by Barenaked Ladies

Mexican Wine by Fountains of Wayne

The Villain I Appear to Be by Conner Spiotto and Molly Pease

Death of a Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco

Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Once In A Life Time by Talking Heads

Take a Chance On Me by ABBA

Short skirt/Long Jacket by CAKE (massive adora vibes, truly)

C'mon by Fun.

Problems by Mother Mother

The Masochism Tango by Tom Lerher

Moist is also incredibly stressed and freaked out all the time:

I'm Scared by bill Wurtz

The Show Must Go On by Queen

Old Pine Box by TMBG

Money!!! :)))) and the fact that Moist doesn't really understand it even tho he's so good at getting it:

Stress by Jim's Big Ego

Why am I anxious? By Tom Cardy

Money by Bill Wurtz

Redesign your Logo by Lemon Demon

Selling Out by Tom Lerher

Money Money Money by ABBA

Money by Pink Floyd

How Bad Can I be from The Lorax (not gonna apologize for this)

Crime and cons!!! :)))) and it's consequences:

Black Friday by Steely Dan

Facade from Jekyll and Hyde

I Fought the Law by The Clash

Fox on the Run by Sweet

A Crow's Trial by Vane Lily

Sinnerman by Nina Simone

Smile! No One Cares How You Feel by The Gothic Archies

Moist avoids identity issues by not staying in any one identity long enough to become attached :

The Next Day by David Bowie

All Time What by TMBG

The Bidding by Tally hall

A Mask Of My Own Face by Lemon Demon

Grace Kelly by Mika

The Great Pretender by Freddie Mercury

Liar by the Arcadian Wilds

[donnerpartyofone]

So what happened yesterday was, I had stupidly run out of the methylphenidate ER dose that I'm currently on, and decided to take two of the lower dose that I had left over from before. (Ironically I completely flaked on a doctor's appointment for the first time in my life when I was supposed to get the current script refilled, I just got so sick I forgot what was happening, but if you're going to flake on a doctor's appointment I guess it might as well be an ADHD appointment) I thought that the "slightly higher" dose from the two pills wouldn't bother me, I mean I've taken drugs before, but about half way through the day I was suddenly struck with a jarring, physical panic. Fortunately my blood pressure cuff thing didn't say I had to rush to the hospital, but I remained on high alert for the rest of the day and night, which may have colored my perception of what happened.

(don't get too excited, it's just weird)

I took the ferry to see my friend's demonic horror movie (the ferry is a highly underrated form of local transit, it is awesome especially on a rainy night), which was cute, and I love being at the movies even though you always run the risk that other people will taint your experience. Even the religious dogma of the Alamo Drafthouse doesn't stop people from being assholes, and sure enough as soon as a couple of young women (early 20s? idk) sat next down next to me, I started to smell this hot, spitty, artificial sweetener smell, and I realized oh no this bitch is chewing gum. I have a good amount of misophonia and gum is my enemy in any circumstance, but the girl was fully snapping the gum and blowing bubbles for the first 15-20 minutes of the movie. (She had to get rid of it when their cookies arrived) That was a tough one because even if I were the kind of broad who picks fights with strangers, it would be hard to win a fight about chewing in a business that is serving food...but anyway when the server came through to get them situated, they had some sort of altercation that left them both in hysterics. The second the lights came back on they both started ranting about how the server was sooo mean to them because apparently when they sat down one of them took her shoes off, and she was told to put them back on. This girl is going "I'M GONNA LOOK THAT UP AND SEE IF IT'S A REAL RULE! I BET IT'S NOT EVEN A RULE!" as if "no shirt no shoes no service" hasn't been a national punchline for decades and it's just a random and petty punishment that certain eateries uphold to be perverse. I guess also when the guy asked to pre-swipe a card for them so they wouldn't have to pay in the middle of the movie they didn't understand him and that made them mad, and then they were mad that he put the cookies on "the wrong table" (the one between them) as if they weren't both eating them. Like ok guys, I was young once, I too have been rude and been mildly corrected by an adult and been so humiliated that I had to make up a big story about how the adult is an insane person who hates me personally. I was 12 once, too. But holy shit you are old enough to get into this late R-rated movie, do your parents usually take you or what the fuck is your problem?

So as I was leaving I looked up the best way to get home (too late for ferry) and the apps were all giving me a big red Storm Warning warning that I had never seen before and suggesting that trains were running very irregularly or not at all until tomorrow. Outside it was warm and misty, not remotely as stormy as it had been when I arrived. What was going on? I got lost going to what was supposed to be the station with the earliest train, went into the station with the MOST trains, and just decided to just take whatever train came first going in the vaguely-right direction. The world outside the theater seemed to have become very apocalyptic while I was in there, and I was intensely watching my back. When I saw a tall thin woman all in black shuffling down the platform, I did a double take; my first impression was that her face was covered in blood. When I looked again I saw that she had bright red, very wet makeup of some kind smeared from her nose to her chin. The rest of her face was covered in a similar substance that was pitch black. She was not white, is the only other detail I was sure of. I couldn't evaluate the situation. Is this a performance? Is she dangerous? Is she in danger? What should I do? My train came before I could figure it out.

gif by @brody75 stupid tumblr wouldn't give it to me normally

A few stops later, the apps said that I should go outside and get a bus that would come in 25 minutes. Ugh, but at least it's coming. As soon as I got outside the apps said that I should have stayed underground and taken another train that was coming in 1 minute. I couldn't even run back in for that because the machine had done something fucked up to my card when I tried to refill it and I was forced to use the transfer for the bus, oh fucking well. So I'm waiting for the bus and I see this other bus coming from the opposite direction with its display flashing "EMERGENCY - CALL 911". I've been living here for a long time and I had never seen anything like that. Was it a real instruction for me? Or was it one of our cop-obsessed mayor's many advertisements for the cops that seem to be everywhere, constantly telling you where are the nearest cops to every location and how you should go find them and give them something to do? The bus pulled up to its stop across the street and I could see that there was just one passenger on it. It seemed scary. A load of people got on at that stop, I wanted to think at least one of them had a uniform on but I wasn't sure. At that moment my bus pulled up. I let everybody else on first and then I told the driver, "That bus across the street is flashing a CALL 911 sign." I thought he would know what to do. Drivers seem to look out for each other. He just stared at me. It was the blankest stare I'd ever seen. He didn't move and he didn't make a sound. I repeated myself and I pointed "That one, over there, is he ok?" ...or whatever I said, I was kind of freaking out. He just nodded, once, and kept staring at me. Then he put it in drive and I sat down.

also @brody75

I had wanted to spend all night working on this project I'm under deadline for--I might as well with all the extra amphetamines in my system--but I could no longer concentrate. I felt like I was in Jacob's fucking Ladder. I also felt like a complete asshole for not helping anyone. I don't know. I never know what to do. I'm constantly getting lost and I have no money and I'm small and clumsy and I don't feel safe with strangers and I don't automatically trust cops and I'm also fairly stupid and cowardly and I don't know how anything works. It's hard for me to imagine taking charge of any situation even when it seems like the choice should be obvious because of instructions or just decency. Also when you start helping people when do you stop? I often think of this standup bit by [cancelled comedian I don't want to argue about] where he describes a younger relative visiting him in the city for the first time, and she's shocked by the first really dire homeless person she sees in Port Authority. She goes rushing over to him and when the comedian stops her she says, "You mean he doesn't need our help?" and he says "Oh no, he needs you desperately! We just don't do that here." And I mean yes, ha ha cynicism, but it's more like how do you even begin to deal with individual instances of a problem that is so huge and ubiquitous that even the large support systems in place can barely handle it. One time in the dead of winter I posted a picture of a pigeon that was so puffed up it was hilariously huge and spherical, and someone scolded me about how "that's a baby" and if I see it again I should transport it to a rehab center. They obviously didn't understand the scale of the photo and must have mistaken the puffery for juvenile down, but it's also like, if I start helping pigeons when will it stop? I've helped a number of animals either get out of a snag or get to rehab when they were obviously incapacitated or sick, but if I lowered my threshold of intervention to "a pigeon that looks cold or uncomfortable", it would never end. Technically probably every rat and pigeon in the city needs some kind of medical attention, they say rats here have diseases that haven't even been identified by science, but what's the actual, rational response for individual citizens?

Anyway I have totally ruined my own weird freaky spooky one-crazy-night anecdote with this awkward musing about what people are supposed to do for each other, and I have made it very clear that I am terrible in an emergency and do not help people. And I'm already imagining arguments with tumblr randos who are always handing out authoritative ethical advice about what to do in every situation, in a way that reveals that they have no real life experience of their own. And now I need to like get to my stupid telehealth visit with the doctor I flaked on last week, and stop being insane, and go back to work. I don't really know why I write these things down. I guess I must have to.

[remyxavier]

It's so nice to see posts about mental illnesses that are not OCD or ADHD (I'm not including autism because it's a developmental disorder). It's so nice to see people post about psychosis because it can be caused by a plethora of illnesses, but also by medications, recreational drugs, lack of sleep, etc. it's so nice to see part of yourself being SEEN by others.

I know of very few people in my life who have bipolar like I do, but they are not friends or people I could speak with about it. It feels very alienating, but despite that, I still try to talk about my bipolar experiences casually with friends because I think everyone should be more educated on it. I also think it makes it seem "less scary" when you know someone who has a "scary" mental illness and who has experienced psychosis, hallucinations, and delusions, and yet, they're your friend and they're funny and they're good people and they're kind, etc, so that when you see a news article or a post on social media of someone trying to demonize a person who has a "scary" mental illness like bipolar or schizophrenia, you can be reminded of your friend who is just like you despite their illness. And someday maybe we'll stop thinking of certain mental illnesses as "scary" and just think of them as an illness that needs medication and care just like if you had asthma or diabetes.

(honestly, it would just be cool to have a friend who also has bipolar so that I can talk about it with them. My wife is the most supportive person I've ever met and she has put a lot of effort into learning about bipolar and my history and I am forever grateful for that, but having a friend who understands your illness more intimately would just be so awesome.)

[wanderingtheark]

hello! welcome to the blog of the Wandering the Ark System!

our collective name is Ark/Jay, we are 21, use he/they pronouns, and have medically recognized polyfragmented complex DID with an alter count of 100+. our exact count will remain unknown. we are also diagnosed as autistic, adhd, and are seeking a bpd diagnosis.

Blogs:

@eldritchsmokes - stoner blog

@personally--disordered - personality disorder blog

ask in dms or off anon with your age in bio for my nsfw blog

Fandoms:

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Jujutsu Kaisen

Original Characters

Overwatch

Creepypasta / Slenderverse / Marble Hornets

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Taleblr

Generation Loss

Lego Ninjago

The Magnus Archives / The Magnus Protocol

Warrior Cats

Guardians of Ga'Hoole

Watership Down

My Little Pony

Pokémon

DNI:

endogenic system / supporter

believe in "narcissistic abuse" and demonize personality disorders

* proshipper / poppyblr / ship real people

* we used to be a proshipper, however we realized we were being groomed and have since stopped holding those beliefs. please do not bring up our past, we are trying to fix the things we have damaged while under this mindset. also we hope you all die.

transx / radqueer

agere blogs

I have nothing against age regression, but I post about adult content including drugs, sex and alcohol and do not feel comfortable with agere blogs interacting with me

dream, wilbur soot/lovejoy, georgenotfound fans

sh / ed blogs

use typing quirks / unicode fonts

I use a screenreader on desktop and these break my accessibility tool. you're just ableist if you use these lol

Important Links:

SystemContainment: An Etsy shop where we sell prints of our art and keychains!

link

[sonneillonv]

yea you're right with everything. i guess eddie sometimes takes the special k when he needs to escape too. what most people criticise is that he could have made her addicted to it because that happens when you take drugs to escape

Yeah, that can definitely happen. And who knows? He might take it. We don't really know whether he self-medicates with anything (besides alcohol, and very mild alcohol at that). He's definitely not getting any actual medication for his obvious ADHD 😅

Talking about addiction is thorny and difficult for a number of reasons. Classism, ableism, general anti-drug attitudes, and hell, even racism all play a part in how addiction is viewed in American culture. Addiction is hard to define - a lot of people in this fandom have pointed out that K is about as harmless, and only slightly more addictive, than caffeine and marijuana. But when people are dependent on caffeine, we typically don't describe that as an 'addiction', or if we do, we don't attribute the same stigma to it as we would if someone was addicted to Ketamine.

This is especially funny to me because I have ADHD. People with ADHD notoriously self-medicate with caffeine because it has the opposite effect on us that it has on other people. It's incredibly easy for someone with ADHD to develop a caffeine dependency that can actually affect their health in many ways (not just the withdrawal headaches but blood pressure and heart problems that can be dangerous), but we don't get stigmatized for that: we get stigmatized for taking Adderall, which basically does the same thing for us. Adderall is a controlled substance because it's SO popular on the street. It is, essentially, a legal dosage of Speed, and because it's associated with recreational drug use, it's heavily regulated - which means I have to overcome hurdles to get my prescription that a lot of other people don't. Since ADHD makes remembering to do stuff and forming habits really difficult for me, extra barriers result in frequent medication lapses - I can't get a 90 day supply, so I have to do a special song and dance to get my meds every single month, and I have to keep seeing my GP so she can keep prescribing it to me in case I'm suddenly 'cured' and don't need it anymore, and she has to put a special call into the pharmacy so they know a real prescriber actually wrote the prescription she transmitted electronically from her office, etc, etc. Those medication lapses fuck with my health because you're not supposed to just 'stop' Adderall. It's addictive, and you will have symptoms if you go cold turkey. Not to mention, if I have a lapse for more than a few days, my life starts heading down the tubes because I need my medication to function enough to do basic tasks like, y'know, dishes. Laundry. Vacuuming the floor.

So I depend on Adderall, which is addictive. Am I an addict? Is there a difference between me, a person with a prescription, and the kids who are buying it off their local pill guy to help with 'academic performance'? If so, WHY? Why is it different that I need a drug to perform, and they need the same drug to perform? Or, if we flip it around, why is the idea of children taking Adderall to focus better in school such a threat that the system needs to make it nearly impossible for me, an adult with a medical disorder, to have consistent medication? Many, MANY disabled and mentally ill patients face systemic barriers to getting help because people are SO scared of enabling 'addicts'. Pain management in America is utterly fucked because people are so scared of (and disdainful toward) 'addicts'. At some point, we have to recognize that our culture uses the word 'addiction' as a boogeyman. It's meant to create fear and demonize individuals, and that is NOT a constructive way to talk about or address dependency.

Other countries have begun to recognize and treat addiction as an illness (or a consequence of treating an illness which can be managed with professional assistance), and they are seeing a LOT more success in harm reduction and addiction recovery than the US. I don't want to type another five-page essay here, so I'll just say that a lot of people get addicted because they self-medicate. They self-medicate because something in their life is intolerable to them. They may choose more harmful or dangerous methods of self-medicating if they're unable to fix the bad situation or alleviate the pain/stress. A long-term, unhealthy, and degenerative 'addiction' the way that we typically think of it has two factors - the chemical addictiveness of the drug itself, and the threat of the environment you're trying to escape. American rehabilitation suffers because even if you can break a person's chemical dependency on a substance, we don't have the social programs in place to fix the shitty situation that caused them to self-medicate in the first place. Once they're 'clean', they have to go right back to being broke, jobless, unloved, ill, stressed, abused... and if that's too much, and they turn back to substance abuse again, most of us get on a high horse and go, "Tsk tsk, well I guess you never deserved my help in the first place. Never trust an addict!"

To continue my personal example... evidence-based research proves that if you want kids to stop abusing Adderall, it's not effective to put it behind a bunch of legal barriers. What's effective is asking yourself, "Why are kids feeling such immense pressure in school that they need chemical assistance to meet standards? What could we do to alleviate this kind of pressure on students while still helping them learn?" Then addressing the root problem, which removes the need to self-medicate.

'Addiction' isn't a monster in the closet. It isn't some kind of looming evil. Lots of people need a particular substance to live and function. The diabetics in my family are utterly dependent on insulin to live, and I'm dependent on Adderall to do dishes. They need one kind of help, I need another. Someone who's become dependent on heroin needs a different kind of help to thrive. But it's all HELP. It's all NEED. With Harm Reduction, we focus less on demonizing the fact that people have needs, and more helping people meet their needs without destroying their lives. In the case of heroin that would mean breaking their chemical dependency, but it's not because "OMG it's bad that you need this". It's because the heroin is killing them and we want to find a way to alleviate their suffering that doesn't also kill them.

So when people are like, "OMG Chrissy could have got addicted!" I'm over here like "Yeah she could have got 'addicted' to pseudoephedrine or adderall or prozac too, so what?" (in the sense that none of the above are 'addictive' on par with, say, opioids but can create dependency in the long-term.) Nice upper-middle-class girls take that stuff all the time. If people care about Chrissy avoiding addiction, the solution is to address the problems in her home life, not to clutch pearls over a tranquilizer she was offered once.

That's why it seems pretty obvious to me that people who demonize Eddie for selling her K don't actually care about Chrissy (or real people with chemical dependencies) at all, they're just trying to feel superior. Just another expression of modern puritanism in fandom and I'm over it. 🙄

[grim-echoes]

addictions being treated as quirky or not a big deal for certain things is how I got balls deep addicted to adderall before I realized it was fucking destroying my body and I had to wrench myself out of it 🫠 I was stupid, young, naive, not experienced with heavier substances and I just internalized how casual everyone is about it. It’s so dangerous fr

adderall/prescription medication addiction also kinda goes hand in hand with a thing i omitted from my post to keep it relatively short which is certain addictions being sensationalized as a usually right-wing fearmongering tactic for the purpose of demonizing the source--i have friends with adhd who use prescription adderall to manage their symptoms who have found it harder in some cases to access refills due to its stock being limited to only certain locations as an attempt to combat adderall addiction out of a belief that the medication itself is bad, despite the fact that 1. most people who pop adderall like candy do not need it for medication and are not getting it through a prescription, they're getting it through a dealer and 2. you can be prescribed too much and need a lowered dosage. i'm not sure how you got hooked, so i won't jump to conclusions--but the fact remains is that the medication itself is not the issue, but the US in particular has consistently been fucking terrible about effectively tackling drug addiction so it really tracks that the throughline here is "medication bad" which makes it much harder for people with adhd to access it, and doesn't stop people who are addicted from accessing it elsewhere and continuing to be addicted. anything taken in excess is bad--it's just that adderall is the current hot button topic, and not for any good reason.

video games are in the same category where gaming addiction only exists in the public consciousness because of its association with "video games turn you into a violent mass shooter", which has and always will be a right wing facade alongside demonizing mental illness to ignore the issue of gun accessibility and the rise of fascism contributing to a culture of gun violence, but i digress. it's not that video game addiction is its own issue and that a lot of mobile-oriented and AAA companies employ practices that are intentionally designed to cultivate a dependent relationship between the player and the game that needs continued attention--it's that it's convenient to know is a thing because it suits a conservative agenda and because addictions like this aren't very well heavily talked about outside of these very narrow, unhelpful contexts, a lot of people both don't realize they're addicted and can't get help, and don't even know that you can be addicted to anything that isn't a hard substance.

this might have been a bit of an aside from the point of your ask anon, i definitely went on a huge tangent, so i will add to loop back around that for addictions being treated casually it was part of the reason i never realized i had a caffeine addiction until my first sudden, unprompted panic attack and subsequent discovery that dependency can cause literally every single symptom i would go on to experience and more. there's a very casual, nonchalant attitude about coffee in our culture and having actually experienced the worst of it and continuing to see so many people around me (immediate family included) who are completely unaware they're addicted and don't link their health issues to their overconsumption, i get more than a little upset about the idea of being a "coffee fiend" or needing coffee just to maintain basic alertness being portrayed as a quirky character trait rather than an actually fucking horrifying sign that your health is in jeopardy and you won't ever know because NOBODY talks about it.

[sstarlitseass]

I firmly believe that things such as self diagnosis, unhealthy coping mechanisms, identities that aren't binary or easily explained, and things that are linked to personal experiences will always be demonized by people who don't have these things due to the fact it makes them uncomfortable.

Mentally ill people do mentally ill things, queer people do queer things, and neurotypical people do neurotypical people.

This includes alcohol, drug uses, any sexual coping, and self harm. This includes xenogenders and neos and lesboys. This includes people with Autism, ADHD, OCD, Schizospec. And all the etc.

Demonizing these things only makes things worse for those people. Stop it. You're a dick.

[pantwolf]

I have been without my stimulant medication for a week now. Finally got more today.

I frequently doubt whether or not i should be on them at all, or if I'm dependent on a drug that does more harm than good.

This probably won't be the last time my anxiety flares up these doubts, but I'm making an effort now to say to myself:

They help you!!!

For the love of the Wilds, mate, we have goals and aspirations that we want to accomplish! Stimulants don't erase who you are, they don't change who you are, they just give you the means by which you can finally function to some degree!

Your internalized demonization of neuropharmaceuticals is far more damaging to you than any poor side effect you've experienced from using your prescription.

It. Hasn't. Been. Good. Without. Them. There's a reason that they're the leading outcome-based treatment for ADHD! BECAUSE IT WORKS!

Please please PLEASE stop invalidating yourself. Yes, you "get better" and then you feel like you're "supposed" to be "capable" of these things "without" "your" "crutch" but you're better because the the stimulants are WORKING!

Love,

Yourself.

P.S. Get laundry detergent and food. We have the power to do so <3

[the-expose-on-girls]

Church Drama

Warning: this is going to get a little church-y. My rant is not aimed at any specific religion, only at my church in particular.

It never ceases to amaze me, how my church time and time again chooses to side with the aggressor rather than the victim or continue to keep a bad person in their good graces while giving good people the collective cold shoulder. I get it: forgive and love your neighbor. But really?

One girl had an affair with an engaged man, sleeping with him in her little sister's bed, then eloped, then divorced him a year later. She is still in the congregation's good graces. They all still follow her on social media and "heart" all her posts. Simultaneously, they forced her family to leave the church with their unending "how could you raise such an immoral young woman like that" comments and attitude. The Halo Effect is VERY STRONG with this one.

Another girl has adopted the baby prostitute grunge aesthetic and posts countless pictures of her kissing trans and lesbians in mens restrooms. Oh, but she's still their sweet, righteous little ballet princess.

Her brother was sent to a mental hospital for months and when he came back, admitted to the whole congregation that he was addicted to porn. "Oh, what a great kid, he's sooo brave!"

One girl dated a guy much older than her just to enjoy having a sugar daddy for a few months before she got bored and dumped him. The guy was genuinely in love with her. And she used him, played on his feelings to get expensive gifts out of him, including: a Polaroid camera with all the add-on stuff, a modern old-fashioned radio/CD player/record player/Bluetooth speaker, and a VERY expensive gaming computer (that's just a perch for her cat, now). Everyone knows full well she used him. Everyone knows how DEVASTATED he was when she broke things off without a hint of remorse or compassion. He was seriously messed up by that. Yet they still invite her to events and keep her in the circle. Again, the Halo Effect.

MEANWHILE...

One girl's parents got a divorce because her mom stopped taking her meds and went off the deep end, spreading rumors on her way down that the husband was abusive to the whole family. Who did the church believe? The bi-polar former drug addict. And who did they start to throw shade at? The kids. To the point they stopped coming to church because of the comments people would make to their faces.

One boy, who had ADHD, was put in juvenile detention repeatedly, because his parents would lie that he was violently abusive toward the whole family. They had the whole church believing they were the victims of a demon child, just so they could have JD raise their hyper active kid for them. Because they were too lazy to put in a little extra work that it takes to raise a kid with ADHD. When the boy tried to come back to his childhood church, the other kids had already been warned to stay away from him because he was "dangerous". The church barely tolerated his presence as a favor to his "poor, poor parents" for "all they had been through".

I minded my own business, did my best to help anyone who needed it, just wanted everyone to get along, and was a loyal friend to the end, even when backstabbed. Then I got manipulated and used by people, got my reputation smeared by horrible lies, and the church believed those lies. Now I'm the social pariah, the crazy one. I'm the one they will go to every awkward length to avoid.

By the Book...

Don't try to come after me for being trans-phobic or anti-sex or whatever. I'm not bashing LGBT or sex before marriage. I'm simply pointing out that MY church is overlooking the deeds and lifestyles of the people in the first part while simultaneously believing those things are wrong and speaking out against such actions. They continue to act like these people are sweet, righteous angels. They pretend not to know that they just suddenly went off the deep end and started acting out. They bend over backwards in their hypocrisy to support these people who continue to behave, by the church's definition, sinfully.

Then in other situations, they choose to side with the aggressors and punish the victims. They don't even justify any of their standings on the drama with Bible verses or anything---partially because they can't, because what verse stands up for parents slandering and abusing their own kid like that---they just support the wrong side completely arbitrarily. And they support them HARD, to the GRAVE just about. Almost as if they enjoy it. The messy divorce story happened about ten years ago, now, and the people at church still throw shade at the kids whenever they see them. The dad, also a victim, who used to be on worship team, is still excommunicated. WHERE IS YOUR "FORGIVE AND LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR" SERMON, NOW?????

I cannot fathom the mental gymnastics they perform in choosing who to keep in their good graces.

[sixofpomegranates]

☠︎ Tutor ☠︎

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Carver!Fem!Reader

Word count: 13K (it's a long one | That's what she said.)

Summary: Trading tutoring for guitar lessons, Reader’s hopeless crush on the towns freak doesn't seem so hopeless after all.

☞ Picture does not describe the looks of the reader!

A/N: !Body & Skin color Neutral! Reader! IMPORTANT: Jason is also still alive. Reader is Jason's cousin and grew up with Robin as her best friend. They worked together with Steve at Scoops Ahoy.

CW: Smut, Fluff, Angst 18+| Eddie (Bullying/Self-Deprecation/Feeling of not being good enough) It is implied that Eddie has ADHD or is at least in the spectrum, [y/n] (Rich Parents not supporting your dreams/Shady family wealth-white supremacists) Mentions of Vecna/Chrissy/S4/Near-death experience/Scars/Nightmares, Pining, Drugs & use of (Weed), Making-out, Fingering, Penetrative Sex (Virginity/Loss of virginity, Unprotected, Creampie)

Pinning my tutoring flyer on the board in school, I sigh. Another year of tutoring to have more than this couple of peanuts my parents consider my pocket money, I guess.

Fun fact, it's called pocket money because it's little enough to fit in your pockets, even if Dad gives it to you in pennies.

But okay, I want something, I'm eighteen, and I am able to earn the money for it. Sure, my uncle and aunt just bought Jason a new car because our family name's soaked in wealth, and apparently, we think that the price of a dead girlfriend is exactly the same as for an Audi 5000CS Turbo Quattro; but okay...

If anyone in my family would know that the disaster that was March and the giant earthquake were actually a real-life boogie man coming to collect teens; and that there was something the kids I tutored over the last years called 'The Upside Down', I'd get my guitar lessons paid within the blink of an eye...

But Robin, Steve, and Nancy were very clear about why I've got to keep it to myself.

So no hero status or guitar lessons for me, only tutoring either a child that Steve will adopt the second it comes into his five-mile radius or a stupid jock that will try flirting with me every session and stare at my cleavage instead of his books.

Simply not fair.

As somebody reaches past me to grab my flyer, I jump so severely that my headphones fall off my ears, and the smell of marihuana fills my nose.

"Jesus," I mutter, turning to the person behind me and meeting the face of Hawkins's most hated man. Eddie Munson.

March has fucked up everyone; me being particularly jumpy and having my walkman on all the time is actually one of the better outcomes.

Eddie is now hated by most. They couldn't link him to a satanic cult (Just officially named him a freak and loser that likes dungeons and dragons, which seems to be a gateway drug to demon worshipping now...) and with the government and Chief Hopper's help, they also stopped trying to convict him of Chrissy's murder, but the town hates him.

They still believe he has something to do with it, whether proven innocent or not.

How he still makes it through the day, a big smile on his lips, truly baffles me.

"So, you're tutoring?" he asks, not looking up from my flyer. I nod. "Yeah, need the money."

"You only tutor the freshmen or..." "Everyone's welcome," I smile, turning off my music. "Even the full-on, nonconformist metalheads."

Cocking his head, he raises his eyebrows. "You really think you could help me pass chemistry with Kaminsky?"

"Depends." "On what?" I grin. "If you pay for your lessons."

Faking a heartbroken reaction, he giggles. "And that after I saved you from being demobat food. I'm a hero, y'know?"

Shrugging, I pin another flyer on the board. "Well, Munson, what can I say? We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."

Eddie pulls a face as though he is about to vomit. "Gross, don't Madonna me."

"I Madonna as much as I like to," I laugh, punching his chest gently. "So, chemistry, anything else you'd need help with?"

That is when the bell announces lunch. I watch the metalhead tense up before me but still trying to play it cool.

"Uhm, we can talk about it while having lunch," I offer, but he shakes his head. "Nah, I- They throw stuff at me when I enter the cafeteria, so I'll just relax outside a little," he tells me, still smiling, but his eyes can't hide anything.

He's afraid.

"Yeah, sure," I smile back. "After school?"

The hallway starts to fill with students, and Eddie becomes visibly uneasy. He already begins removing himself from the conversation, turning around only to lift his flyer. "After school," he calls over to me and vanishes in the crowd.

*****

After school, I wait outside for Eddie, having him see me and smile from afar, ditching Dusting and Mike while they're still talking to him and running up to me.

"Hey, Carver," he says teasingly, making me smile. "Hey, Edward."

He nods, knowing he deserves the comeback. "You shall be forgiven."

"Okay, business talk. What classes do you need help with?" I ask, looking around. My parents insist on my cousin driving me home for safety, and I really want to avoid Jason seeing me with Eddie.

"Well, chemistry is currently the biggest problem. Have you heard of Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test?" I nod. "That's the one you have to take if you screwed up every other test-" Realization washes over me. "Oh, Eddie."

He smiles at me apologetically, cheeks turning a little pink.

"Why didn't you say something earlier? I- We could've studied together."

He shrugs. "To be fair, I know we were in the Upside Down together and stuff, but I didn't think we'd know each other enough to ask."

True, we don't. I'd only ever seen Eddie from afar in school or at the mall. And before all hell broke loose with Chrissy's death and those bat-things nearly killing him, I'd actually been massively intimidated by him.

He is loud, handsome, and definitely a little crazy; that had been enough to keep me away.

But since the Upside Down... That place and all that comes with it – let's just say it helps you forget your social status and makes you become allies even with the handsomely crazy ones.

"I- I still would've helped you if you'd asked. You have to graduate this year, or else-" He interrupts me. "I know. I just didn't want to be a burden. Like, 'Oh, you killed a bat for me, now I have to study with you.'"

"You're not a burden, Munson," I tell him, looking into his warm, brown eyes.

"Heard different things before, and you only say that because you haven't tried studying with me yet," he grins. "So, how much per lesson?"

"How bout a deal?" I ask him back before all bravery can leave me. Eddie's lips split into a gorgeous but mischievous smile. "Oh, I'm good at dealing."

"I swear if you pull out your lunch-" Before I can end my sentence, he's already pulled out the black metal box containing his drugs.

"Eddie, you're not paying me with drugs," I tell him sternly, forcing him to put the lunchbox back into his backpack.

"It's good stuff," he tries to assure me, but I shake my head, hardly able to bite back a grin. "And I still don't want it."

After a final try at handing me the metal box, he shrugs, putting it away.

"You play guitar, right?" I ask him as if I haven't been part of the most metal concert the Upside Down has ever experienced. "How bought instead of paying me, you teach me? I wanted to take classes with that money anyway."

He blinks at me a couple of times before letting out a loud, excited laugh. "Y-Yeah. Totally. I- I taught it myself, so if I can learn it, you can learn it."

"Cool," I answer. He scratches the back of his head, echoing me, "Cool."

We stare at each other for a moment, somehow not knowing what to say. God, this is awkward, isn't it? Am I making it awkward?

Quickly clearing my throat, I announce, "I'm babysitting Mike and Holly tonight, and the Wheelers always allow me to bring company. So, bring your books, and we'll see how bad the situation actually is."

Eddie smiles, as he almost always does. It is actually quite distracting. "Okay. Uhm, then I meet you there at...?"

"Six," I blurt out, then giggle a little anxious. "Six. Great," he chuckles in reply.

Before either of us can say another word, our attention is drawn to a small group of jocks, Jason being their leader, on their way to us and their cars.

"I'm gonna drive the kids home," Eddie tells me, still smiling as if he could hide the real reason he wants to leave. I grant him the illusion of having fooled me, smiling, "Okay. See you tonight."

I watch him hurry away, get Mike, Lucas, and Dustin – including their bikes – into his van, and drive off. Jason rushes now closer, having seen us from afar. He lays his arm around my shoulder, pulling me uncomfortably close.

Maybe I'd felt safe being protected by him when I was five, but now I only see the always returning, dangerous paranoia in him. The way he brutally beat Lucas, saying he protected Max but left them both behind as the Upside Down ripped through the old Creel house... He isn't the same person he was before Chrissy died anymore.

"Hey, was the freak bothering you?" I struggle out of Jason's hold, walking to his car. "No, he wasn't, and don't call him that."

He opens the car, throwing his backpack into the backseat. "Come one, [y/n]. You know this guy's a satanic cult leader and murderer. Think of what he did to Chrissy."

It always spins back to this. It always becomes religious. Religion, whichever you pick, can be beautiful, but unstable people will always find a way to turn it into a weapon for their insane reasoning.

"He didn't do a thing to Chrissy, and you know it," I tell Jason, hating that I can't just explain everything to him. I honestly don't even think he would believe me. He's too far gone.

"I know what I saw," he insists as we sit in the car, harshly gripping my wrist. "Around him, things happen. Strange things, evil things."

His fixation on Eddie never eased, even after he was proven innocent. Jason believes in everything being the fault of the sweet metalhead, simply because he was in the wrong place, with the wrong person, at the wrong time.

"You need some serious therapy before this whole town joins your bullshit again, and we have a second Salem witch trial on our hands," I snarl at my cousin, ripping my wrist from his grasp.

The more delusional he becomes, the more violent even his slightest actions become.

"I'm just watching out for you," Jason tries to explain, driving out of the school's parking lot. "Do me a favor and don't," I ask of him, looking out of the window.

My conversation-ending tone, however, isn't enough for him. As if he could frighten me with his tough-guy act, he threatens, "Stay away from Munson, or I'm telling your parents."

I nod. "Well, in that case, I'm telling Aunt Iris and Uncle Frank of how you faked a house break-in to hide the aftermath of your School's Out Party '84."

The discussion finally dies. Jason turns on the radio, listening to the religious station he's recently so obsessed with, and I continue staring out the window, watching cars pass us by.

*****

After getting Holly to say goodbye to her parents, I tuck her in and walk into Nancy's bedroom. I sit beside Robin on the bed while Nancy does her makeup at her vanity.

"Hey, Nance? You think you could borrow me your notes for Kaminsky's class?" I ask as she is done putting on mascara.

"Yeah, here," she smiles, handing me her pink folder. "So you're really tutoring tonight instead of going out with us?"

I roll my eyes, laughing. "And I am babysitting, so you can go out."

"And we're very thankful for that," Robin snickers, styling the mane of the little plush zebra on Nancy's bed. "So, who's the poor soul fucking up chemistry?"

"Eddie," I answer, looking at the folder to avoid meeting their eyes.

"Oh, so it's that kind of a study date," Nancy says, and I meet her grin through the mirror.

"What? No. He needs help with Kaminsky's All-or-Nothing Test, and in exchange, he'll teach me how to play guitar," I begin explaining myself, but Robin nudges my arm, rolling on her back.

"Funny, 'cause when Steve needed tutoring, you were very clear about not being into trades, even when he offered you free ice cream."

"She's right," Nancy giggles, agreeing with Robin.

"No, she's not. I worked at Scoops myself, so I didn't need free ice cream. Eddie plays guitar exceptionally well, and I wanted to pay for classes with the money I would've earned. Two birds with one stone."

"And it has nothing to do with you having the hots for Munson?" Robin asks me deadpanned, and I fall silent. I feel my face heat up and shake my head.

Rolling back onto her stomach, Robin smacks my arm. "Oh, come on. [y/n], we grew up together. Journey, Led Zepplin, Dio, Black Sabbath... The phase when we were thirteen, and you were dead set on marrying Eddie Van Halen? How you drooled every time Munson passed Scoops when we were working?"

Nancy laughs loudly, and I shrug, regretting always telling Robin everything, although I know she can't keep secrets for longer than thirty minutes.

"So... I may have a type. That doesn't mean I have the hots for Eddie," I blatantly lie, Robin raising her eyebrows and grinning at me. "Which Eddie? Ours or Van Halen?"

"Fuck you," I cuss, making her only hug me and laugh at the fact that I never really curse.

Knocking on the door, Steve comes in, scanning Nancy up and down. "Hey, are you ready to leave? Mike is talking to El on the phone, and I'm getting really bored alone downstairs."

She nods, and so we all make our way downstairs. I send Mike to his room, telling him to call Eleven from the phone upstairs and walk to the front door with my friends.

Steve opens the door, almost bumping into Eddie, who was about to knock. "Munson," Steve says, surprised. "Harrington," Eddie replies, also greeting the other two. "Robin, Nancy."

His eyes fall on me, and I smile, "Hey. You got your books?" He nods, lifting his black backpack. I step aside, letting him in, "The living room's to the left. I'll be there in a second."

As Eddie can't hear us anymore, Robin grins, wiggling her eyebrows.

I ignore her. "Bye, guys. Have fun." "You too. Do nothing I wouldn't do," she cackles. I raise a brow as she hugs me. "Do I need to remind you that you're gay?"

Sticking her tongue out at me, she drags Steve to the car, Nancy already warming it up.

"Isn't Eddie coming with us?" he asks, confused, Robin wiggling her eyebrows again. "He and [y/n] are having a study date."

Steve's mom-mode kicks in the second he hears that. "Should we stay and help them study?" "Go to the movies," I insist. "Please, I can't work with you eyeing us down."

"You're staying in the living room and do nothing any of us would do. Except for Nancy. You can do what Nancy does," Steve tells me sternly.

I raise my eyebrows. "So, I'm allowed to have a shotgun and shoot Vecna?"

"No?" he asked me as though I'm completely nuts. "You can study. Nothing else."

"Yeah, no dirty couch sex," Robing calls over, making Nancy look mortified. "Robin," she exclaims, then looks at me with a pleading gaze, "Please don't have sex on my couch."

"I hate all three of you," I tell them, closing the front door just in time to hear Robin call after me, "Nah, you love us."

Shaking my head, I return to the living room, where Eddie is busy walking and looking around.

As he notices me, he grins. "I like this place." I smile back. "Yeah, the Wheelers have good taste."

Stretching his arms out, he spins slowly in the living room. "It's so big. I mean, look at this. All of this is the living room, and nobody sleeps here."

"Your uncle sleeps on the couch?" I ask without thinking, quickly regretting my question.

Eddie's cheeks become red, and he stops what he's doing. "Folding bed, but it's a good one..." he tries assuring me, voice falling flat with embarrassment.

I smile at him, sitting down on the carpet and unpacking my study materials on the coffee table. Grabbing his hand, I make Eddie sit beside me and hand him Nancy's pink folder.

"Y-You have a pretty handwriting," he compliments me while flipping through it. "Oh, those are Nancy's notes. She's so anal about them," I tell him, handing him some of my notes for comparison. "That's mine. Not that clean."

After staring at them for a few seconds, he looks at me. "Huh. Like yours better."

"Charmer," I say, my face becoming hot again. To distract, I hand Eddie my chemistry book. "Here."

"What are we doing?" Eddie asks as I hand him a bunch of sticky notes.

"We're transferring my notes into your book. I like to use those to write down simplifications, extra notes, and explanations, and then I stick them on my pages. I also color-coordinate the highlighter I use with the color of my sticky notes. I believe it's more comfortable to learn if it's easier on the eyes..."

Feeling Eddie stare at me, I stop talking, look back at him, and ask, "What?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "Nothing, just... thanks."

*****

"Wrong again. Maybe we should focus on-" After hours, I finally feel my patience running thin. "Eddie?"

"Huh?" He asks as though he hasn't been staring at me for the last five minutes.

Fuck, am I so boring that he starts zoning out?

"I was talking to you. I- Can you please try to concentrate?" I ask him, smiling, trying not to sound offended.

He nods, stretching a little before leaning over our books again. "Totally. Yeah. Sure. Sorry."

As he answers the question wrong again, a deep frown appears on his face. I sigh, putting my pen down. "Okay. How bout a break? I'll need to get Mike to go to bed anyway."

He nods, almost relieved, and I make my way upstairs. After some debating and a non-verbal threat, I take the phone out of Mike's room, and it's lights out as his parents requested. I know he'll still stay up some hours reading his comics, but I'm willing to let that slip.

When I come back into the living room, Eddie's gone. Instead, he sits outside on the porch, smoking.

"Hey, is that marihuana?" Of course, it is. He smiles at me charmingly. "It's just a little pot to help me concentrate," he says as if I wasn't about to jump his throat.

A wave of anger rushes over me. "Are you even taking the whole thing seriously? I mean, I've been sitting in there for three and a half hours, trying to teach you something, and the first chance you get, you run outside to get high."

I walk back inside, starting to pack my stuff. I apparently thought too highly of Eddie due to my years of crushing on him. I should've known he wasn't taking it seriously, but I just made a fool out of myself.

I hear fast footsteps behind me. "Hey, hey, [y/n]. Look, I'm sorry. I really just smoked some to concentrate." I turn around, and Eddie steps closer, pleading, "[y/n], please. I have no reason to lie to you. I promise I want to learn."

"Didn't seem like it," I murmur, and he nods.

"I- I know. It's- I struggle to focus, always have. If something isn't interesting enough, my brain just shuts off and then does silly little things it finds more interesting – like counting the little daisies on your top."

We both look down on my shirt and then at each other.

"Please, let's try it again. I swear, no more drugs, and you get me on my best behavior," he asks of me, giving me this distracting big smile again while he cups my cheeks.

"Okay," I nod, without even thinking twice. "Okay?" I nod again. "Okay, Munson. Sit down."

We sit back down, and for the next minutes, I could swear he tries really hard. But as we start working on a practicing sheet with many questions on it, his concentration seems to crumble again.

"I- I'm sorry. I think I mixed the questions up," Eddie mumbles, angry at himself.

"You always keep looking down on the next question while solving the one above," I observe, and he nods. I hand him an empty piece of paper. "Here, try that."

He holds it up, confused. "A piece of paper?" I take it, laying it over his worksheet. "As a divider. We cover the next questions, so you can't look at them."

From here on out, it actually seems to work. Yet, I yawn, exhausted from the hours of work before.

"I'm hopeless, aren't I?" Eddie asks, grinning at me. "No. I'm just tired," I answer. "You're actually doing well."

His grin becomes wider. "I so do not believe you." He gives me a gentle shove, making me giggle, "I'm serious. Especially now that we stopped you from mixing up the questions."

"Do you think I'll pass the test?" This time Eddie seems more serious; there is no smile on his face that would indicate that he has any hopes for it. "If you study enough... I mean, Kaminsky's tests are super hard, but like, I'll help you as much as you need me to."

"Nice way to say that I'm fucked, Sweetheart," he coos, hand moving up to my face again. His cold rings burn on my hot cheeks. "You have to study for your own finals. I can't have you hold my hand through my own mess."

"Eddie, I have my studies down and don't mind helping you," I tell him, although I'd rather whine as he removes his hand. I wish he would've left it there.

"Hey, you know what my mom made me do whenever I wanted to achieve something?" I ask him, taking one of Holly's green sheets of crafting paper and folding it in half. "Goal cards. Write down the reason you want to graduate."

"The reason? I'd say because I'm twenty and can't repeat class again?" He deadpans, making me shake my head.

"Not like that. I meant the hopes you have." Licking my lips, I admit, "Like, when I was thirteen, I made one, saying I wanted to learn how to play guitar. Inside I wrote that I was doing it to become a famous musician and marry Eddie Van Halen. Even glued a picture of him in it."

Eddie is quiet for a moment, then bursts into laughter. I shove him. "Stop laughing. I'm trying to help you here."

He nods, whipping away some tears, "Uh-huh." "Fuck you," I tell him in fake appall.

Eddie collects himself, shoving me back and mocking me, "Oh, such big words from such a proper little lady."

As calmness returns to the room, he grabs his pen and the card, opening it. He stares at it for a while, pen ever so often pushing onto the paper, but no words come out.

"Do I have to write it down?" he asks me, a little defeated, this time without a smile. "If you want, you can tell me, and I'll write it down for you," I offer, and he hands it over to me.

Eddie is silent for a while, caught in deep thoughts. Suddenly he says, "I- I want to graduate, so I'm not ending up like my dad."

I look up at him, not yet writing. He continues to explain himself, "He dropped out, married his high school sweetheart, and just barely got by with petty crimes or – you know – selling drugs and stealing cars. Then mom died, and he just spiraled, became violent..."

As his voice loses its strength, I ask, "Where's he now?"

Eddie shrugs. "Does it matter? Prison? Maybe dead?" he says. "Uncle Wayne took me in after CPS contacted him about my dad breaking my arm when he was high... He told his younger brother to fuck off, and we haven't heard from him since."

We're quiet. I don't know what to say. I can't even remember his parents. I only know the version of Eddie that he is now.

"I changed my mind," he then says, tapping on his goal card. "Write that I wanna be a better nephew to Wayne... Don't wanna be a burden anymore, a fuck-up."

I shake my head. "Eddie, you're not a burden. Your uncle loves you."

He nods. "And I only disappoint him. I can't even fucking finish high school. I sit in my room all day, preparing for my D&D campaigns or playing guitar. I sell drugs to assholes that love beating the crap out of me for being a freak, and now I am also a satanic cult leader with demonic powers that murdered Chrissy and two other guys I didn't even know... Yeah, [y/n]. I totally don't sound like a burden."

I'm shocked at how low Eddie seems to actually think of himself. Behind this always smiling and joking façade, there seem to hide years of self-hatred and a, probably trained by his father and the school system, thought of being a worthless burden.

"You took in freshmen, nerdy little kids that don't fit in. You let them be part of your club so they wouldn't have to be alone or get bullied," I argue, having him shrug. "Somebody had to. People can be real assholes."

"You saved Hawkins." "Not like I can tell anyone about it."

I smile a little, "Well, you also saved me from those bats, almost getting killed while trying." "Matter, of course. Everyone would've done that."

I shake my head, "No, they wouldn't, and you know it. Jason didn't care for Lucas or Max, even though he claimed to have beaten Lucas to protect her. He just pissed himself, ran away, and saved his own ass."

Eddie gives me a half-hearted smile and lays his hand on mine, patting it several times. I close the cart and hand it to him. "How about you keep your goal card and write something inside it once it feels right, okay?"

He nods, putting it between the pages of his book where I think it will get forgotten. Then he opens the book on one of the other chapters, pointing at something.

"Can we go over that E cell stuff again?" He asks, clearly wanting to change the subject. I nod. He's been open enough for one evening. "Sure."

After learning for another hour, I fall asleep, face on the coffee table. When I wake up, Eddie is gone, only his leather jacket draped over me like a blanket. In my book, I find a small note asking me to study with him at his place on Friday.

*****

"You call me, and I'll pick you up; my number's on the back," Jason lectures me as he holds his car in front of the Munson trailer, handing me one of the phones from his duffle bag. "I'm meeting with friends, but should you need anything-"

"Don't sell your soul to the devil, and please call me. Yeah, I know," I interrupt him, eying the mobile phone in my hand. "Those things are starting to become really small, or am I crazy?"

He sighs, hating that I am going to spend the day in the trailer his girlfriend died in, with the guy who was the last to have seen her alive.

"Seriously, [y/n]. The minute he tries something, or you realize you're in a circle of blood with strange symbols drawn around it-" "Yeah, because that happens so casually often," I interrupt my cousin again.

"This is about your safety," he tells me as though I am unreasonable. "No, this is about you being paranoid and needing therapy," I answer, grabbing my bag and getting out of the car. "Thanks for driving me. See ya later."

I walk over to the trailer, knocking a couple of times. After a few seconds, Wayne Munson, Eddie's uncle, opens the door.

"Yeah?" he asks, holding a baseball bat behind his back. A safety precaution, I understand but disklike that he has to have.

"Hi, Mr. Munson. I'm here to see Eddie." He eyes me up and down, and I add, "I'm his friend. I help him study."

He looks over my shoulder, nodding to Jason's car with his chin. "And your friend in the car? That's Jason Carver, that little bastard," he says, highly suspicious of me.

"He's my cousin. My parents want him to drive me around since the earthquake," I explain, and his face becomes softer. "I'm sorry, Kid. I-"

I interrupt him with a smile. I understand why he has to be protective of Eddie after all that happened. "No, don't worry. I'm not crazy about that mental case either," I say. "Uhm, can I come in? I'm afraid he might get out of the car if we stay out here for too long."

Wayne lets me in, closing and locking the door behind me. From Eddie's room comes the sound of an acoustic guitar playing 'Sweet Leaf', one of my favorite songs.

"Eddie, your friend is here," he calls down the small hallway. I join him, calling, "Hi, Eddie."

We hear some rummaging and cussing, then Eddie practically rushes out of his room, only wearing his boxers.

"Hey, [y/n]," he greets me as I instantly look the other way, feeling my face burn like fire.

"Son, put some damn close on. You're in the presents of a lady, for God's sake," his uncle scolds him, and after a millisecond, Eddie cusses like a sailor.

"Shit, fuck. Sorry, I just woke up. I- It'll only be a second," he tells me, and from the bumping sound, I figure he almost ran into his bedroom door.

"Uh-huh. Take your time," I tell him, finally looking in his direction again as the door closes.

"Now, [y/n], can I offer you something to drink?" Wayne asks me, and I shake my head. "No, thanks. I'm good," I tell him, looking around the living area I know pretty well in both this dimension and whatever the Upside Down is.

It is scary to think that the portal simply closed, not leaving an ounce of trace that it ever even existed.

My eyes fall to the folding bed, open in the middle of the room. Eddie's uncle rushes over, taking the blanket and pillow and putting them inside the couch's storage department.

"Sorry, he didn't tell me he'd expected someone," he explains, embarrassed, folding away his bed. I smile at him, shaking my head. "Don't worry. Really."

The awkward silence is broken by Eddie coming out dressed in black, ripped jeans and a washed-out band shirt.

"Hey, hi," he greets me again. "Hi," I answer.

"I- I made the study cards you told me to," he explains proudly, and I grin. "Do they work?" "I think so. C'mon."

With his hand on my back, he escorts me to his room, signaling me to sit down on his bed. I, instead, only put my bag there and look around his room. In bright daylight and without the risk of dying or Robin screaming that we need music to save Nancy, it's actually nice in here.

It helps that it's also cleaner than last time and smells like air freshener and fresh linen.

"Edward, the door stays open," Wayne calls into the room, just as I pass a pile of clothes next to his closet, to look at the small, hand-painted figures that I think belong to his dungeons and dragons game.

I turn around, looking at Eddie. "So, the door stays open," I tease him jokingly, and he nods, becoming red while scratching the back of his curly head.

"Yeah. When something happens again, Wayne can give me an alibi saying he saw you the whole time during your visit and that you were okay."

My smile instantly vanishes, and I begin to apologize, "Oh, right. Sorry, I didn't think of that. I thought it was because-" "Because I'm having a pretty girl in my room?" he asks, tilting his head and stepping closer.

My breath hitches as he backs me up closer to the wall; I bump into the dresser behind me. "Naughty girl," he whispers with a mischievous grin as he cages me between his arms and his dresser.

I shake my head, becoming dizzy, "I- I- I didn't-" He chuckles, "I'm just teasing you, Carver. Calm down."

I am almost disappointed as he steps away, truly having only teased me. I turn my back to him before he can see the look on my face, but my gaze meets a mirror, showing me my pout.

Silly. It's silly that I'm sad he wasn't actually flirting with me. I focus on the guitar hanging in front of the mirror. Sweetheart, that's what Eddie calls the guitar. I begin chewing on my bottom lip, telling myself that I don't need this metalhead to like me back.

It would be too difficult anyway. Especially in fucked up times like these, where we don't know when Vecna returns.

Doesn't make me want Eddie any less, though...

"You like her?" Eddie asks behind me. I nod, suddenly feeling his hand on my shoulder, moving me back to the bed. "Well, not gonna let you touch her just yet. You need to learn acoustic first."

As I sit down on his bed, Eddie takes the black acoustic guitar full of band stickers that was leaning next to it and kneels down in front of me, showing it to me.

"This is Honey. She was my first guitar, first love, if you will," he chuckles. "She's pretty," I whisper. Eddie nods, "Glad you think so, 'cause she's yours now."

"What?" I exclaim, making him laugh. "Don't look so shocked," he says. "You need a guitar to practice on."

"But she's yours." He nods again, laying the guitar on my lap. "And she's been painfully neglected for years now, especially since I bought Sweetheart. Now take her and be good to her."

"Thank you," I whisper, following the outline of an old Metallica sticker.

As I look up, mine and Eddie's eyes meet. He'd been watching me closely. We grin at each other a little stupidly, and I feel my heart race like it's trying to win a marathon.

"I made you something," he says suddenly, jumping up and grabbing a bunch of small cards from one of his drawers. "Those are the different chords and where you have to put your fingers."

On the cards are drawn guitars necks, dots on the exact spots where my fingers need to be. "These are awesome, Eddie. And you really made those cards for me?"

He nods, cheeks turning pink, "We have a deal, after all. And if I teach you how to play guitar, I damn well will make sure you're becoming a real star at it."

I put the guitar aside and take his jacket out of my backpack, awkwardly and completely flustered, handing it to him. "You forgot your jacket at the Wheelers' home a couple of days ago."

"I didn't want you to freeze," he says, throwing it aside. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I know the reaction people have when they see me. I didn't want Mike's parents to think I was there to sacrifice their kids or have them be mad at you for letting me in."

I bite my lips again. "I wish you would've stayed. We could've gone home together." "I could've driven you home..." he smiles for a second before it vanishes again. "But people know my van, can't have you be seen with me."

Before I can stop myself, I say, "I don't mind being seen with you, Eddie."

He stares at me, touched, chocolate brown eyes becoming glassy, "T-That's a C. You think you can play it?" he quickly asks, swallowing hard and handing me one of the cards as a distraction.

I take the guitar but struggle with my finger placement. Eddie notices it and crawls behind me on the neatly made bed.

Hands on my waist, he makes me sit between his legs and helps me hold the guitar correctly. "Is that okay?" he asks, looking at me over my shoulder.

I nod, and he takes my fingers, placing them on the strings. As they are placed, he hands me a pick and helps me play that note. It sounds correct, and I smile at him. Eddie smiles back at me as though I just performed a concert for him.

"There you go, rockstar," he chuckles, placing my fingers differently again.

For a while, we play the chords, and I become more and more comfortable with his arms around me. It feels nice. Safe and calm.

We're both ripped from the moment as Wayne knocks on the open bedroom door. "Hey, you two. I'm going to work. Can I leave you both alone?"

Eddie nods, barely acknowledging his uncle. "Uh-huh."

"Eddie, are you sure-"

This time he looks up, interrupting his uncle, "Yes, Wayne. We're just playing guitar and studying a little. I promise nothing shady will happen." Eddie looks at me, "Right?"

I nod, assuring his uncle, "Oh, yeah. Absolutely not. I'm also getting picked up later."

The man nods, hand running over his head. "Okay. I- I'm just worried."

"I know," Eddie tells him, this time seeming to accept and understand his uncle's worries. They share a serious look that shows concern and affection.

Then Eddie smiles again, pointing at the polaroid camera on his dresser, "Hey, can you take a picture of us?" He asks, having his uncle nod. "Sure, son."

"That's okay for you, is it?" Eddie whispers into my ear, making goosebumps appear on my skin. I grin, nodding lovesick.

After taking a picture of us, me seated between Eddie's legs, the guitar in our hands, Wayne hands the picture to his nephew, wishing us goodbye, "It was nice to meet you, [y/n]. See you in the morning, kid."

"Oh, I'm gonna keep that one," Eddie whispers delightedly, looking at the picture.

I put the guitar aside, trying to look at the polaroid. "Why?"

"No reason," he tells me, standing up. I follow him, "Why, Eddie?"

"Because you look cute in it," he says, but this isn't enough for me.

I try to grab the picture, but he holds it up. Therefore, I stand as close to him as possible, standing on the tip of my toes to reach it.

Eddie wraps an arm around my waist, starting to spin us around. "Care for a dance, milady?

"You're so weird," I giggle, unable to reach the picture, but holding on to his wrist.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm completely insane," he tells me, stopping our spinning. "Now sit down and tutor me."

He softly pushes me back on the bed, and I make myself comfortable, looking at my own study cards while Eddie sits down next to me, going through his own. I have no idea where the polaroid picture went, but I sure hope I don't look ridiculous in it.

After two hours of learning together, Eddie lies back, staring at the ceiling. "I need a break."

I put the guitar aside and join him. "Same. My fingers are killing me."

"Yeah... Takes some time till you build up calluses," he chuckles, taking my hand into his, gently kissing my sore fingertips and stealing my breath. "Pretty soon, your pretty lil fingers will look like mine."

I don't know how he does it, but Eddie makes my heart beat so fast I feel like becoming dizzy; he always had me wrapped around his finger in that way, even as I only knew him from afar.

He's everything that my parents taught me to avoid, but I want to admire him forever.

"So you think I'll pass the test?" He asks me with a crooked smile, luring me back into reality. "Hm... I'd say I'm 99.9% sure," I smile, making him nod bothered as he lets go of my hand.

"Yeah, still room for me to fail." I prob myself up on my elbows, assuring him, "Well, I believe you'll make it."

A grin creeps over his features, making me certain that mischief is brewing together a plan under his curly mop of hair. "Would you be mad at me if I'd smoke one as a reward?"

I shake my head, and he sits up, grabbing a pre-rolled joint from his cluttered nightstand. "Do you want to...?" He offers, lighting it and taking a hit.

I shrug, uncertain since I've never done something like it before. "Uh... I- I don't know."

He looks at me with a serious face. "Hey, I'm not somebody that's pressuring others into things. I just thought... Would you want to try it? Now would be your chance, and it's safest to get high for the first time when there's somebody with you who has experience and watches over you."

I sit up as well, nodding. It isn't like I never wanted to try it.

"You sure?" He asks sternly, trying to avoid a reaction of mine that is solely based on the need to impress him.

I nod again. "Yes. Please."

Eddie leans over, holding the joint's butt to me. I lean forward, lips on the joint, taking my first pull; his eyes are on me, face as close as possible to inspect me.

"There you go. Small hits, baby," he coos his instructions. "Hold it, and now let go," I do as he says, coughing a little due to the smoke in my lungs. "Burns a little, I know."

It is hard not to stare as we lock eyes, his chocolate brown ones metaphorically bringing me to my knees. He has me smoke half of the joint, and as stupid as I feel for thinking like that, it feels intimate.

The way his big hands bring the joint back and forth between us, the gentle way he coos and praises me, and his eyes, his eyes are on me, so fascinated and intrigued as though I am one of the dirty magazines he unsuccessfully tried to hide under the bed.

I love that gaze of his and want to find a way to make it stay, although I probably just over-romanticize it because of the pot and my crush on Eddie.

As he puts the joint's end into the ashtray on his nightstands, I let myself fall back onto his mattress. "This feels nice," I say, feeling wholly carefree and peaceful for the first time since Vecna.

Eddie lies down beside me, explaining, "Yeah, it's the good stuff. Knocks us out for a while, perfect for relaxing."

We lay on our sides, facing each other. As he reaches out and brushes his knuckles over my cheek, I notice some ink on the back of his hand. I take it and read, 'Clean bedroom. [y/n].' on it.

I like my name on his skin; a weird thing to feel, but it fills me with a bit of pride.

"You forgot that," I tease him, pointing at the to-do list on the back of his hands. He chuckles, "Baby, I wasn't in school so that I could clean up."

I sit up, looking around. Then I giggle. "Okay..." "Hey," Eddie warns me in fake appall. "I even changed the sheets today."

I'd noticed the sweet, floral smell of the linen under me earlier, so I nod. "I appreciate the effort," I tell him, laying back down and kicking off my shoes.

"Where will life take you after graduation, Carver?" He asked as I make myself comfortable on his mismatched set of pillows.

"Where will it take you?" I ask back, but he quickly dismisses my question. "We both know I'll stay trailer trash, now answer me."

I sigh, saying my secret plan out loud for the first time, "I'll take the trust fund I'll gain access to once I have my diploma and run."

He furrows his brows. "So you'll leave us?"

"I meant that metaphorically," I say, making him look confused. "My family had different funds set up for me when I was born. One for high school graduation, one for college, one for marrying, and one for when I have children – a son, to be specific..." I explain.

"That sounds like a very thought-through version of manipulation," Eddie concludes, angered, seeming disgusted by my family's forced conforming.

"It is. I grew up thinking that I have to achieve all these set goals, but now..." Another sigh escapes me. "We don't know when Vecna will return, and every fight becomes more dangerous. I don't want to go to college and become a rich, famous, whatever. I don't want to play happy housewife for an upper-class jock my parents pick for me.

"If I die, I want to be able to look back and know I chose my happiness instead of social obligation."

My whole life, I'd been the perfect, preppy, old-money daughter my family had wanted. I exceeded in school, never went to parties, and stayed away from 'bad apples'. But I'd almost died, and as the weeks had passed, I came to realize that I would've left a life of unfulfilled dreams behind. One I'd only lived to make my parents proud.

"You thought about that a lot, huh?" I nod. "Ever since the bats attacked us."

My hand wanders over Eddie's stomach, resting on a spot I know is now holding a serious scar. He'd gotten it while protecting me from the bats as I'd tried to lure them from the trailer.

"Does it still hurt?" "Only sometimes. At least I have some very metal scars now," he jokes, hand coming up to my thigh.

Under my clothes, I hide some scars as well. It's not like I am ashamed of them. Why should I be? But they need to heal and fade enough to stop looking like bites first – as my family believes they come from an accident caused by the earthquake.

"What about yours?" Eddie asks, and I nod. "Same here. Do you sometimes dream of the Upside Down?"

"Aren't we all?" he chuckles, pushing down the trauma we all experienced. "It took me a while to even realize that all that actually happened, and when the wounds stopped hurting..."

"It'll get easier," I assure him as his arm moves up to my waist—another spot where a scar rests. I'm surprised he still remembers all of the spots.

"Right, wasn't your first rodeo," he remembers. "So, what are you doing with the money? Your trust fund, I mean."

I grin, biting my bottom lip, "You know the retail park between Hawkins and Derry?" "Who doesn't?" he laughs. "I wanna rent a space there and have my own music store. Sell instruments, cassette tapes, records... All of it."

Eddie's eyes become wide, sparkly. I seem to have piqued his interest. "Sounds amazing." "You think?" I ask, and he nods. "Totally. We'll always have music, so you'll always have a job there."

Either his reaction, his touch, or the pot – maybe all three of the things combined – have me smile. I prop myself on my elbow, hand dancing over the letters of his old Black Sabbath shirt.

"If you're not too set on becoming trailer trash..." I start, feeling his heartbeat under my fingers. "I could always use a good business partner who loves music."

"Be careful with those words, Sweetheart," Eddie warns me, propping himself up as well. "'Cause if you mean them, you'll never, never, ever get rid of me."

As he begins towering over me, I whisper, "Sounds good to me."

And just like that, his lips collide with mine. I feel like bursting into flames, like I am losing my mind, and as though I only imagine this moment. I let myself fall back into the pillows, taking Eddie with me as he crawls on top of me.

The kiss is heated and longing. Eddie's hand cradles my face, wanders upwards, and his fingers tangle themselves into my hair. I gasp into the kiss as he tugs on my hair, my hips jolting up due to the literal electricity he created within me.

Suddenly the kiss stops. Eddie sits back up on his heels and looks as though he just violated me. "I- I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. That wasn't okay. You're high, you're-"

I sit up as well, embarrassment almost making me dizzy as I admit, "That had nothing to do with me being high. Did- Did you just do it because...?"

He shakes his head so harshly that I fear he'd give himself whiplash. "Was looking for a chance to do that for a while now."

I can't believe his words, asking, "Really?"

Eddie nods, looking me up and down as he licks his lips, "Jesus, you're so fucking pretty. Makes me dizzy."

We giggle and smile at each other childishly. I'd never thought he'd be interested in someone like me. I'm not an innocent, happy-go-lucky, preppy cheerleader like Chrissy was. I'm not a cool, not caring what people think of me – metalhead like him.

I am basic, normal. I go to school and do my homework, I listen to all types of music, mostly not even caring for genres since I mix through them all the time anyway, and I dress uncoordinated, solely based on what makes me happy that morning.

I've always thought I was invisible, one of the nice girls you see for five minutes in a movie and have totally forgotten about by the time the credits come on. This had given me some advantages as we saved Hawkins but socially made me feel out of place...

Eddie leans closer again, making me back onto the pillows, his knee between my legs. "That okay?" he asks softly, and I nod.

He towers over me, making my heart beat irrationally. He's so beautiful, and the fact that he wants me has me forget everything, even my name. I push myself up, cupping his cheeks; our eyes lock as he looks just as surprised and overwhelmed about all this as I am.

This time, I kiss him. His lips are soft and gentle as he kisses me back, hands carefully roaming my body as though I'm made of glass. I kissed a few guys before, but none of them had ever made me feel like this.

It feels so right. Like I was made to be in Eddie's arms, being accepted although coming with nothing else to offer than myself.

As our kiss becomes messy, something I've never experienced before, our hands become greedy and inquisitive. As my nails dig into his upper arms, Eddie's hand cups my clothed breast, groping it harshly.

As I moan into the kiss, he chuckles, kissing down my neck and plastering its skin with hickeys and soft love bites.

I moan again, hips jolting up and causing me to whimper as I accidentally rub my most sensitive area against his thigh. "Fuck," I softly cry, repeating the motion once more.

Pecking my lips softly, Eddie places himself now entirely between my legs. I can feel his erection through our clothes, right where I want him most.

"Nice, huh?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips against me and enjoying how my eyes roll back.

Our lips find each other again, and while we sloppily begin making out again, our bodies move in unison, friction having us moan and gasp into our kisses.

As his hand sneaks under my shirt, cool rings kissing the warmth of my body, I stop Eddie. Propping myself up a little, I stammer, embarrassed, "Can we just- I don't- I never..."

I've never done anything like this before. Before today, I never kissed somebody with this much passion, never let one touch me like this. I've never felt this need, lighting my body on fire, before... And it scares me. I am not sure if I want to go any further than this.

Eddie smiles and softly chuckles. He leans down, kissing my cheek. "No worries. Rule one of being high is not to make big decisions when high. Have two tattoos proofing that point."

Somehow, I expected him to be mad at me.

"So you're okay with just kissing?" I ask, concerned, but he drops onto his elbows, forehead against mine. "I could do that for a lifetime."

Turning on some music, which plays softly in the background, we fall into another kiss, and another, and another. At one point, Eddie even has me sitting in his lap, hands groping my ass as he bucks his hips against me.

Only as our lips are sore, we cuddle on his bed, lips still coming together for little kisses from time to time.

I fall asleep in his arms, feeling safe and happy; I dream of this moment lasting forever.

*****

The next time I open my eyes, it is dark around me. I hate being in the dark, I become nervous and scared. Time has shown me over and over again why I should stay away from the darkness, but Eddie's chest, slowly rising underneath me and his arm around me, have me calm.

Closing my eyes again, I try to go back to sleep.

"She was supposed to be home hours ago, old man!" An angry voice yells outside the trailer.

"Listen, I am sure there is an explanation-" an older voice tries to communicate calmly but is interrupted.

"I don't give a shit about your excuses. You and that satanic scumbag-"

The older raises his voice warningly, "Hey, be careful what you're saying."

Eddie moves underneath me, laying on his side and pulling me into a hug. Suddenly he jumps up, turning on the lights. "Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"What is it?" I ask sleep-drunkenly. "We fell asleep, Sweetheart. It's 5 a.m.," he explains loud but softly.

I jump out of bed the second my brain processes his words. "No!" I exclaim, looking at the radio alarm on Eddie's nightstand. I pull on my shoes, Eddie throwing over his jacket.

"[y/n]! [y/n], are you in there?" The angry voice from before yells, and I have a realization. "Fuck, that's Jason," I tell Eddie, who nods, handing me my backpack.

We rush outside and see Jason and his friends in front of the trailer. Wayne stands there on the steps, a baseball bat in his hand. They're all looking at Eddie and me.

I look back and forth between Wayne and Jason. "I- I'm so sorry. We fell asleep, I-" "I called you a hundred times," Jason interrupts.

I push past Wayne, walking down the steps. Eddie's uncle keeps him in the trailer, not letting him out.

"I just told you I fell asleep," I answer my cousin as he walks closer, looking at my disheveled appearance, then at Eddie's.

"What have you done to her, Munson?" Jason growls, and I step between him and the stairs. "He did nothing. What's wrong with you?"

He's clearly drunk and out for confrontation with his favorite victim.

"Fuck, you smell like a distillery," I mutter, having to look away to catch a huff of fresh air.

"We're leaving. Wait till Aunt-" my cousin tries to threaten me, grabbing my arm and walking us to the car. I shake my head, interrupting him. "You're drunk. I'm not letting you drive me."

As I try to pull my arm from his grasp, he hardens his grip. "[y/n]," he warns, trying to drag me to the car. "No," I exclaim, trying to stop walking, but Jason becomes rougher. "Ow."

"Hey, don't grab her like that," Eddie calls over, forcing himself past his uncle.

"Or what, Freak? What satanic monster from hell do you want to summon here in front of everyone?" Jason asks, irritated, fumbling his keys out of his pocket, a little cross keychain on it.

By now, half of the trailer park residents have noticed what is happening. All looking, nobody intervening.

"Man, just- just let go of her arm," Eddie tries to reason with Jason. "Please, you're hurting her."

As he takes a couple of steps closer, my cousin raises his keychain. "Don't come near us."

"Eddie, it's okay," I tell the sweet metalhead, then look to his uncle, who has his baseball bat equipped. "It's okay."

"Are you sure, girl?" Wayne asks me, concerned, but I nod.

"Yeah. I..." I finally can escape Jason's grasp and look at him and his friends. "Is anyone of you guys sober?" None are, so I sigh, "Kay. Give me your keys and get into the car."

Jason obliges since me driving the car means he gets what he wants, and I leave with him. I have the drunken jocks get back into the car, noticing that one had held a wheel-wrench the entire time.

I buckle Jason in the passenger's seat, make sure his friends buckle in as well and grab the wrench. Shaking my head, I look over at Eddie and his uncle, waving at them and trying to force a smile on my lips as I got into the driver's seat.

Leaving the trailer park, the drunks in the back fall promptly asleep, while Jason seems to calm down, experiencing an adrenaline crash. He tells me the addresses of his friends, and I drive everyone home.

"I was worried," he explains, head heavily resting on the headrest of his seat.

"I know," I sigh, having just dropped off the last one of his friends.

"I miss Chrissy," he mumbles, and I watch him take out the little velvet box he carries around everywhere. "I thought we would be together forever."

Jason had planned on proposing to his high school sweetheart after graduation. Chrissy was dead for months now, but he still carried the ring around.

I look at the broken shell of a man beside me. Jason had lost his mind when he'd lost his girlfriend. Our family believes he just needs time, but he desperately needs therapy.

He wasn't always like this; he was a good guy; we grew up like siblings – Yeah, sure, he was a little douchey sometimes, but he was the guy nice to mostly everyone—a preppy, old-money boy.

His moral compass hadn't been broken before he came into contact with Vecna's darkness.

"Eddie didn't hurt Chrissy," I tell him, but he looks at me with tears in his eyes. "I know what I saw."

I can't tell him about the Upside Down, which makes me helpless. I have to sit between the chairs, see Eddie being hated, and watch my cousin lose his sanity, and there is nothing I can do about it.

"Look," I start, carefully thinking of how to phrase my sentences, "I know what you saw. I know how it looked like and how much it scared you, but Eddie was solely at the wrong time in the wrong place when... when Chrissy and Patrick were attacked."

Jason looks at me in disbelief, his eyes wandering down to my neck, where he notices the marks left by Eddie.

"So that's how it is," he says disgustedly, sitting back in his seat and refusing to look at me again. "You let the freak fuck you, and now you're excusing him and his actions. You're choosing him instead of your own family and friends and completely disregard his victims."

"That's not what I'm doing, Jason," I say. "If- If you really think there is something evil and satanic going on... Maybe the monster hunted Chrissy and Patrick, and when it attacked, Eddie just happened to be there."

He shakes his head. "Munson is a vessel. I don't know when he became one, but I know what got him there... This satanic game and the music he listens to."

"Jason, Dungeons & Dragons is a fantasy game. It's like being the main character in The Hobbit. You know we loved that book when we were younger. It's harmless, and Eddie is basically a sweet nerd with rough edges. And his taste in music...

"It's just metal. You know it doesn't make you a murderer. You secretly bought me my first Black Sabbath cassette tape when Mom and Dad forbid me to have it."

He ignores me, angry tears in his eyes while he continues to fidget with the velvet box in his hand. I start the car and drive us to my place. I am too tired and frustrated to drive any more than that.

*****

"[y/n], do you have any idea how worried we were?" my father yells angrily, Mom agreeing. "You stay out all night, and your cousin has to pick you up from a trailer park."

I sigh, pressing my palms onto the cold kitchen table. "Come on. He was drunk as hell. I had to drive him and his friends home. You can barely say he picked me up."

Jason had used the hurt he felt from losing Chrissy and our talk in the car to unload all his paranoia of the night on my parents, then went to bed in our guest bedroom, leaving me to pick up the mess.

"Still, your behavior-" I interrupt my Dad, "I know. I made a mistake, and I am sorry. Can I now please go to my room?"

"No. I don't want you to see that boy anymore." "What?" I ask loudly.

"This Munson kid has caused enough harm. I will be damned if I let you end up like Chrissy Cunningham," Dad yells determent, making me shake my head.

"Eddie had nothing to do with Chrissy's death."

"We don't know that for sure," Mom says, trying to be the calm voice of reason as my father becomes angrier by the second.

"Yes, we do," I argue. "Jason has been spinning out of control for months now. Why isn't anybody in this fucking town questioning his bullshit accusations?"

Mom hands my father his coffee, and he takes it to the living room. Simply leaving the discussion like he always does. Then she sits down beside me, trying to hold my hand.

"People wouldn't find it so easy to believe if the Munson boy hadn't given them so many reasons to."

I let out a sarcastic laugh, then scoff, "Funny, 'cause when people tried to – very rightfully so – suspect that our family's wealth comes from decades of slavery and human trafficking, you both told me that foolish people are willing to believe everything just to run their mouths."

"[y/n]..."

I shake my head, so angry at my family's hypocrisy, "You're not treating Eddie fair. You're judging him and his character through his upbringing, social status, and nonsensical rumors from an unstable family member."

"Hun, I know you like that boy, and dating a bad boy sounds exciting for girls your age – I know, I've been there – But boys like that have the power of ruining your life."

"You don't know him, Mom," I tell her, tears in my eyes. The Upside Down had thoroughly messed up my relationship with my family. "When the earthquake hit Hawkins, I was with Eddie and our friends. If he hadn't been there, I would be dead now. He saved me."

Mom looks at me, shocked. I've refused to talk about the accident until now since I still haven't thought out a perfect lie. I see the pain in my mother's eyes, I know she loves me, and after so many died due to the earthquake, it terrifies her that I could've been one of them.

"Mom, Eddie's a little weird, sometimes completely bonkers, loud, and obnoxious, but he is neither dangerous nor bad for me."

She presses her lips together, trying not to mess up her perfectly applied lipstick. Then she nods. "Go to bed. We'll talk once you have had some sleep."

I go to my room, locking the door behind me. Dressing in some fresh underwear and an oversized band t-shirt my mother hates, I lay down on my bed.

It's already light outside, soon, my dad will go to work, and my mom will pop some uppers and drive around town, spending some money on things we don't need and thinking about what to serve for dinner.

I wonder if I would've ever noticed how dysfunctional our family is, even with all our money, wouldn't I've gotten involved with Will's vanishing?

Would I've ever known how much more important my happiness is than following my family's plans and traditions?

Knocking on my bedroom window pulls me from my thoughts. On the tree branch in front of my window stands Eddie.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as I open it, letting him in.

"I wanted to see if you're okay... And I brought your guitar," he smiles, turning the strep across his chest and putting Honey into my view. I'd forgotten the guitar in my hurry.

"I'm sorry, [y/n]. He grabbed you really hard. I- I should've defended you," Eddie says, hands running up and down my arm, causing goosebumps to appear.

"Jason was drunk and with his friends. They were only looking for a reason to hurt you," I tell him as he hands me the guitar, and I place it on the floor next to my vanity.

I turn on some music, not too loud to annoy anybody, but loud enough to hide that I wasn't alone. Eddie, meanwhile, starts snooping around, almost reminding me of a puppy being in its new home for the first time.

"Now that's a preppy room. I've never seen a preppy room, but this one..." he chuckles, his big button eyes filled with amusement. "I know. Mom decorated it."

He looks further around while I sit down on my bed. As he opens my closet door, a poster of Eddie Van Halen has him crack up before he goes on a deep dive to see all the things I hide in there from my parents.

"Now, that's more like you," Eddie exclaims, pulling out my old working uniform. "You know, I always walked by Scoops Ahoy when I was at the mall... Always hoped to see you."

With butterflies in my stomach, I watch him hang the uniform back into the closet. "I saw you walking by a couple of times. Why didn't you talk to me?"

He shrugs, walking to the end of my bed. "I chickened out. I mean, would you've actually talked to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, or would you've called for Harrington to protect you?"

"I would've loved having you talk to me," I assure him, and he begins to grin. "Careful; I might start believing you had a crush on me, Sweetheart."

I crawl to the end of my bed, pulling Eddie down by his jacket. His grin becomes bigger before his lips press down on mine. I shuffle back to my pillows, pushing his jacket over his shoulder and throwing it aside. We kiss again as he makes himself comfortable between my legs.

Eddie breaks the kiss, whispering, "I need to leave before your parents come in and find us like that."

His knuckles brush over my cheeks, a soft smile on his lips, and I realize that I don't want him to leave—the quite opposite, actually. I want him to be even closer to me.

"My door's locked," I tell him with a cheeky grin. "They think I'm sleeping."

His softness quickly begins harboring an aura of mischief. "Naughty little thing," he whispers, pressing his lips against mine.

The kiss becomes rough and demanding as Eddie growls into it, starting to explore my mouth with his tongue. After hours of doing nothing else last night, his hands on my body and lips on my own feel natural. My fingers glide into his curly mane while I start rocking my hips against him, searching for friction.

An excited whimper leaves me, and I reach for his belt. "N-No, Sweetheart," Eddie stops me gently. "We have no condoms."

"Pill," I exclaim, needier than planned. "I'm on the pill." He raises his brows for a second, and I add, "I started taking it as part of a feminism phase Robin and I had."

Eddie props himself up, looking at me, insecure. "And you're sure you actually want that? I'm not really the upper-class jock your parents want for you."

I'm looking up at this intimidatingly looking metalhead, smiling. Looks can be so deceiving. "I know, and I like you better that way," I tell him, watching his self-doubt melt away and replace with a contented smile.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he tosses it somewhere in my room. I goggle at his naked chest, the tattoos, the scars, the happy trail. I'm close to tears, and I don't know why; my body feels like I'm being lit on fire; all I can think of is how badly I want him.

"I want you," I whine, hips moving up against nothing. "Please..."

Eddie leans down, pecking my lips for a moment, "I know, baby. I want you too." As he moves back up, he grabs the hem of my shirt, waiting. I lift my back enough so he can take it off me. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes locking with my breasts.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, eyes wandering across the room for a moment. As he looks at me again, he licks his lips. "You're so beautiful."

He drops onto his elbows, kissing me again. Eddie's hands roam my body; thighs, stomach, breasts; there is no place he doesn't explore. So at one point, his fingers glide over my clothes pussy.

I try to move into his touch. Eddie chuckles, pulling my panties aside and letting his fingers run through my folds. He grunts into the kiss, moving up a little, "Holy fuck, Sweetheart. You're so wet."

I nod, embarrassed, swallowing a loud moaning the second he touches my swollen clit. He shushes me gently, pecking my lips, then moves his fingers to his mouth. They glisten in the morning sun, and as he licks my wetness from them, I become dizzy for a second.

Eddie grins at me, fully aware of the effect he just had on me. He comes closer again, kissing me and letting me taste myself on his tongue. Then he kisses my neck, wandering down and stopping at my breast, gently sucking on my left nipple while playing with my right one.

I struggle to stay quiet, hating the thought of having to wait any longer. "Eddie, please," I whine, hips jolting up and meeting with his clothed erection.

He grabs the waistband of my panties, making me lift my hips to help him remove them. They are quickly thrown aside, my hands on his belt again. This time I'm triumphant; Eddie climbs off the bed, taking off his jeans, underwear, and shoes.

I bite into the pillowy part of my bottom lip as I'm met with the view of his hard, veiny cock, making him chuckle and kiss me playfully all over the face as he climbs back on top of me.

Guiding his cock up and down my pussy, he coats himself with my arousal, using it like a natural lubricant. "Ready?" he asks, and I nod, grinning excitedly.

Lining up with me, he pushes in slowly until he fully bottoms out inside me. My eyes press shut, and a whimper leaves my lips at the stinging. My nails dig into the skin of his upper arms. Eddie doesn't move anymore, giving me time to get used to the new, stretching sensation.

"Doing so good, baby," he whispers, kissing my cheek, the corner of my lips, and then me fully. I melt into his gentle touches, hands stroking up and down my sides.

"So beautiful," he grins. "And all mine." I nod. "All yours."

Eddie begins to move, making me feel so full, that I think I'm about to break in two, but instead, every thrust of his makes me feel alive.

I want more, figuring out how to meet his thrusts, moving against him. Our breathing becomes louder, moans and praises are spoken with hushed voices.

Eddie doesn't pick up the speed, my bed already threatening to give us away. Instead, he becomes harsher, administrating long and deep thrusts that make my eyes roll into the back of my head.

I moan loudly, arching my back. In an instant, his hand covers my mouth. "We need to be quiet, baby," he reminds me quietly but doesn't stop pounding into me for even a second.

I moan into his palm, holding onto his wrist, so his hand doesn't move from my mouth. "I know. I know, don't worry. I'll make sure they don't hear you," he promises with a low grunt as he rolls his hips into mine.

Our eyes lock, his gaze full of lust and admiration. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. His thrust become more demanding, and I hear my own wetness every time he rocks against me.

As control seems to escape us, Eddie's deep, husky moans become louder. The secrecy of having raw sex that I was taught would get me to hell before marriage feels so filthy, yet it is heaven.

My nails dig into the flesh of his back, and his lips press kisses against my shoulder and collarbone, occasionally biting into it. Tightening around Eddie, I  am on the edge of my orgasm.

"Fuck," he moans. Our eyes meet again, his hand still over my mouth. I lift my hand as he curses again, clasping it over his mouth.

His hips stagger at this before a moan vibrates in my palm. I come right then. I fall apart into millions of pieces and am put back together a new person—a free one that doesn't care about any social status anymore.

If this is wrong, if this is sin, I want to be amiss for the rest of my life.

A deep growl is muffled in my palm as Eddie comes, both of us silencing the other's moans as we ride out our high.

As his hips still, our hands retreat. Stupid, exhausted grins on our lips; he kisses me and pulls out. I whimper at the sudden emptiness, having him chuckle and lie beside me.

Eddie pulls me into a tight embrace, and we just lay there, wrapped around each other for a few minutes, listening to nothing but our breathing.

My head rests on his chest, fingers circling his tattoos and dark pink scars. We're both sweaty, but neither of us cares. This moment is perfect.

"[y/n]?" Eddie whispers into the silence, hand locked around my waist to ensure I stay put.

"Hm?" I hum, looking up at him. "Your parents want you to stay away from me, right?" He asks, insecurity, sighing deeply as I nod. "Figured."

"Eddie..." I whisper as he sits up, grabbing his boxers. He shakes his head, pulling them up. "No, they're right. You'll find better, deserve better."

I stop the curly-headed metalhead before he can dress any further. Hand on his arm, I lean close. "Don't say that. I- It's only until we're graduating. Once I get my money, I'll move out, and we can be together... If you still want that."

He looks at me for a second, then whispers, "Your family will be furious with you." I nod. "Yeah, but they'll calm down once they see how happy I am... I hope."

I don't have much faith in it, but I refuse to live the miserable life my parents approve of. Eddie's tongue swipes over his lips while he is thinking; I can visibly see the cogs turn behind his chocolate eyes.

"So, that would make one month where I don't get to hold, kiss, or even talk to you," he says emotionless.

"Is that okay?" I ask, unsure. We are rushing; the decisions are way too extreme for the little time we spent like this.

But like I said, Vecna could return at any moment. We could die faster than we seem to be rushing. I have to go all in and live.

Eddie turns to me, the knuckles of his ringed fingers brushing offer my cheek. "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," he hums a familiar quote, proving him to be a soft nerd under all his leather and chains.

"I have been head over heels for you since I was seventeen, and until everyone thought I was a murderer, I never even dared to look at you for too long. I can handle loving you from afar for a month."

My heart skips a beat as I echo, "Loving me?"

Pressing a kiss on my lips, he chuckled, "Seriously, if you haven't picked up on that by now, you're the one who needs a tutor."

He pushes me back into the pillows, climbing on top of me. Insecure all my life, I absolutely don't mind being completely naked in front of Eddie. He makes me feel safe and like it doesn't matter what I look like.

"Shit," I cuss, remembering his test. "How are we going to study for your test?" Kissing the tip of my nose, he smiles, "We don't. I can handle my studying, [y/n]. I'm a big boy. You just keep practicing with Honey, so I can have a jam session with my girlfriend soon, okay?"

Girlfriend. I am Eddie 'The Freak' Munson's girlfriend.

My life has been full of titles until now, the cheerleader, teacher's pet, Jason Carver's cousin, golden child, tutor, babysitter... But this is the first one that I feel proud of, the first one that feels authentic.

➤ Here is Part 2: Girlfriend

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Stan joined a Biker Crew lead by Jimmy Snakes while homeless. I decided make some OC’s to fill in the rest of their crew! You’ll see them in fics of mine, and also some fics of my pal, @eeveelotions

Information about everyone under the cut!

Tw: Violence, brief mentions of racism, homophobia, and transphobia, mentions of suicide, suicide attempt, and domestic violence/abuse, brief mentions of drug abuse

In the Uni Verse, Jimmy Snakes made his deal with a demon at only eight years old. His father got drunk one night and tried to kill both him and his mother. Jimmy got shot, his mother was killed, and his father shot himself soon after. Jim, however, made a deal with a snake demon; He would not only survive getting shot, but he would be given minor demonic powers, in exchange for his patrons demon getting to eat Jim’s soul once he died. Jimmy founded The Flaming Serpents when he met the Pent siblings when he was twenty-two.

Jimmy Snakes is not a nice person in the Uni Verse. He protects his crew and loves them like family, but he’s also super toxic and manipulative towards all of them. He is incredibly selfish and lacks compassion. But he’s powerful, protective, and gives his crew shelter and security; something they probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Everyone in the gang has felt some kind of persecution for who they are as a person, but under Jimmy, nobody can actually stop them from being themselves. There isn’t much somebody can do against you when your gang leader has the powers of a demon.

Stan is the latest member of the gang. Jimmy found him hanging out by a bridge that had been abandoned mid-construction in Flaming Serpent territory. Stanley had recently faced a trauma on the anniversary of him getting kicked out that he didn’t know how to deal with, and he was planning on ending his life. Jimmy thought that Stan was a scout for a rival gang at first and attacked him, but Stan quickly explained his intentions for why he was on the bridge, and Jim left him to his own business, but not before giving him a pen and a notepad, instructing Stan to leave a note to his family, and promising to be back in the morning to collect Stan’s body. After writing a note to Ford, Stan decided not to go through with the suicide.

Jim finds Stan at a diner the next morning, and has a conversation with him, surprised that he didn’t go through with the suicide. He spends the day hanging out with Stan, and, after being impressed by the kids quick wit and sticky fingers, offers Stan a spot in the Flaming Serpents. Stan quickly becomes friends with Alphonse, Luca, Petra, and Jorden, who treat him like family. He tries to avoid James and Kara for reasons I will cover later, and George hates people too much for any kind of friendship to be established.

Stan and Jimmy eventually end up dating, and the relationship is super toxic, with Jimmy gradually becoming more and more abusive. It isn’t good. Jim’s hella possessive, and sees everyone as competition, which leads to him attempting to isolate Stan from his friends. The two fight a lot, mostly over Stan being secretive about himself, or Jim not respecting Stan’s boundaries.

If you’ve seen my Felony Squad content you’ll know of Alphonse LeCult. He actually met Stan from the gang, before the formation of the Felony Squad a few years later. Alphonse is a himbo with a lot of energy, has ADHD, and a Special Interest in pharmacy. He’s been interested in the topic since he was five years old, and would often toddle himself off to the library while his dad was working and read everything about drug and pill production that he could get his hands on. His librarian would let him hide behind her desk so that he could read the books from the Whites section, back before the Civil Rights act was amended. When he was ten his father re-married, and Al gained his older step-brother, Hector. The two became super close, and still are. Al tried to study pharmaceuticals in college, but a combination of racism and homophobia directed towards him by peers and teachers alike lead to him dropping out. He joined the Flaming Serpents when he saw Petra shoplifting pills, and ended up giving her a long, LONG explanation on why she should be stealing a different brand over the one she was trying to take. Al became the regular pill collector for the gang, and they also make use of the fact that his brother is a lawyer, though Hector isn’t too sure about how much he likes his little brothers friends. Al ends up developing a serious crush on Stan, but keeps it under wraps cause Jim would probably murder him if he knew.

If you’ve seen my Felony Squad content you’ll know of Alphonse LeCult. He actually met Stan from the gang, before the formation of the Felony Squad a few years later. Alphonse is a himbo with a lot of energy, has ADHD, and a Special Interest in pharmacy. He’s been interested in the topic since he was five years old, and would often toddle himself off to the library while his dad was working and read everything about drug and pill production that he could get his hands on. His librarian would let him hide behind her desk so that he could read the books from the Whites section, back before the Civil Rights act was amended. When he was ten his father re-married, and Al gained his older step-brother, Hector. The two became super close, and still are. Al tried to study pharmaceuticals in college, but a combination of racism and homophobia directed towards him by peers and teachers alike lead to him dropping out. He joined the Flaming Serpents when he saw Petra shoplifting pills, and ended up giving her a long, LONG explanation on why she should be stealing a different brand over the one she was trying to take. Al became the regular pill collector for the gang, and they also make use of the fact that his brother is a lawyer, though Hector isn’t too sure about how much he likes his little brothers friends. Al ends up developing a serious crush on Stan, but keeps it under wraps cause Jim would probably murder him if he knew.

Luca is the resident Car Guy. He rides a Chevy rather than a motorbike, and the crew uses his car to transport essential items and such. Luca grew up on the streets of New York City, and developed thick skin and an intolerance for nonsense. He’s a grumpy asshole with a heart of gold, and is often described as a grumpy elderly WW1 veteran placed in the body of a short, stalky 22 year old New Yorker. Jimmy found him trying to steal parts of Kara’s motorbike. He suggested he put the parts back so that she won’t murder him, but offered him a spot in the gang for his mechanical know-how. He is still Kara’s least favorite gang member. His diet consist exclusively of meat, soda, and whiskey. Won’t eat a vegetable to save his life. If you dislike the Yankees (or like the Red Socks) you’re dead to him

Petra is bubbly, friendly, and kind; a sweetheart and a social butterfly. She will also murder you quickly and efficiently and nobody will ever find the body if you give her a reason. She looks like a cinnamon role, but actually can kill you. She joined the gang when Jim saw her take three men (all much more muscular than her) in a knife fight and win. She has complicated relations with her family. They’re still in touch, and they still consider her their own, but they’re not exactly supportive of who she is. She’ll call them on holidays, and is still invited to the pilgrimage her family takes every five or so years. They love her, but they still haven’t accepted her transition. She loves them, but she can’t be around them for too long without feeling dysmorphic and heavily uncomfortable. They do treat her friends well, and are supportive of her relationship with Jorden, (even if they don’t tend to use Jorden’s correct pronouns when referring to them). Both Petra and Stan are the only members of the gang who still practice some traditions from the religion they where raised under, even if they’re both not big on faith as a whole. Petra is widely regarded as the kindest member of the gang. She’s clever and always willing to lend a hand to her friends.

Those who meet Jorden instantly think they’re high on something. Jorden isn’t high on anything, they just have the personality of a five year old who snorts pixie sticks for a living. They have no sense of fashion at all, and likes to dress in the tackiest, most gaudy shit they can find in thrift stores. Like Petra, Jorden is also in contact with their family, though the relationship is a lot more rocky. They show up to Scott family reunions out of a sense of obligation, though they much rather be somewhere they don’t have to listen to their families racist and homophobic chatter. They once tried bringing Petra with them to a reunion for comfort and it went about as well as you think it would. Jorden technically isn’t even welcome in the household; soon as the reunions are over, they get the boot again. Jorden was kicked out of the house after graduating high school, and was mostly on their own. They stole a motorbike from a car lot, and used it to steal other things and make quick get-a-ways. They aren’t sneaky about their thievery, but has good perfect target instincts. They where invited into the gang after Jimmy saw their skills on a moterbike, and they started dating Petra not long after.

If violence was a person, it would be Kara Pent. She’s spent years getting as big as she possibly could so that she can beat the shit out of whoever she wanted. She loves beating up others more than anything, and only takes instructions on who or who not to hurt from Jimmy, and occasionally her brother. She abuses any drug that will help her build muscle, and takes immense satisfaction with how intimidating she is. If she decides to fuck you up, you won’t stand a chance. Nobody in the gang knows why Kara is this way but her brother and Jimmy, and nobody knows why she swore her loyalty to him. She wants to be the kind of fighter that nobody can beat, and she is very much nearly there.

George is there because his sister is there. And that is pretty much it. He hates people; his ideal life would be one of absolute solitude and silence. He minds his own business, and never interferes with anything unless instructed to by Jimmy or sometimes his sister. If something is happening to you, he will not help you. He won’t make things worse either, however. He is neutral to all conflicts, and prefers isolation. He doesn’t like it when people talk to him. If you try talking to him, he’ll respond so harshly you will cry. And he always somehow knows exactly which words to use to make his victim cry. There are no exceptions. The only people allowed to say things to him are Kara or Jimmy, and the only exception to his rule is if somebody is giving instructions to him. He doesn’t want to get to know anyone, and he doesn’t want them to get to know him. Every bit of information about him he keeps to himself. He won’t even eat in front of others, less they find out his favorite food.

James has been fired from several jobs, all of them on sexual harassment charges. He’s a pervert and a creep, and doesn’t seem to be ashamed of this fact. He harasses anyone and everyone he meets, with the acceptation of Jimmy and Kara. He will also do literally anything for money, which the crew takes full advantage of, usually as revenge for him being a creep. James does have a few redeeming qualities. He’s got a good work ethic, and is protective of his gang, even if he is shitty to them. He’s good at getting dirt on others; and was welcomed into the gang by Jimmy after he saw James blackmail and extort the hell out of several rich people.

[barbiegirldream]

cw // Abuse mention, ableism mention, drugs mention

No, because I have beef with the fandom about c!Wilbur, and it's gonna involve other characters/people when I talk about this.

People are consistently saying this fandom needs to stop demonizing people for their mental stability or mental state or mental illnesses, extending that to the characters. But people will blast c!Techno for sounding "too boring" or "not having emotion", even though cc!Techno is expressive af and that goes to the chracters, or how people will pick apart how c!Dream is this evil, manipulative mastermind who tortures and abuses kids because he's able think/map out his plan- which a trait extended from cc!Dream (or for some reason make fun of his fucking speech patterns?? As well??)

Or when characters like c!Schlatt are shown to have deteriorating health, they make him out to be this big, strong, ruthless leader, who abuses c!Quackity on the daily. Then there are moments where c!Niki is displaying genuine trauma and anger, like when she burned down the L'Mantree or helped in the destruction of supplies of the fight before Doomsday, or when she tried to kill fucking c!Tommy with c!Jack, the fandom doesn't treat those moments with care?? They treat them as if she's just being a "girlboss". When in reality, those were harmful outlets for all the pain she felt, and was getting desperately ignored.

But with c!Wilbur? Oooooh nononono, guys! He was just in a silly quirky mood when he dragged those kids (another point this fandom likes to hammer on) into war with other people, created L'manburg with the intention of creating a drug monopoly that would take advantage of the lack of potions or "drugs", or- or- when he was spiraling during the Manberg era, guys, he was just mentally ill!! You shouldn't fault him for all of that, even if his actions would've directly hurt other people, like blowing up/killing everyone during the festival that one time! He was just. Mentally. Ill.

Or how people will say that c!Dream and c!Tommy could never, ever, hope to repair the friendship they had between each other, because c!Dream was his abuser! There's no way you could repair a relationship with you abuser!

As there's hundreds of fanart depicting c!Wilbur and c!Tommy in a friendship that makes them brothers/brotherly to one another, despite the amount of c!Wilbur has dragged c!Tommy through, that could be argued to be just as bad as what c!Dream dragged c!Tommy through. (Especially post-c!Wilbur revival, where he decided to try and make L'manburg part 2 , but with a fucking burger van)

Like, what kind of message is it supposed to mean when shit like that is all chalked up to "mental illnesses", but other characters who spiraled just like c!Wilbur, are demonized and heavily criticized in the same breath, hell, in c!Dream's case in particular, are treated as if he's perfectly sound and just wanted to put down "Abuser, specifically of children" in his fucking resume?

God, I'm sorry for clogging your inbox with this, but the way this fandom treats c!Wilbur in the majority state, just pisses me off.

Thisssss!!!

Or someone made a post talking about fun things c!Dream does or whatever just a headcanon post and people said they were giving a villain ADHD which villianaizes the mental illness… it’s like people who think c!George wouldn’t be colorblind.

How the fuck is cc!Dream supposed to play someone without ADHD he has ADHD. CC!George would never be able to play a character without color blindness.

It’s sooo stupid. The CCs in this fandom who aren’t nuerotypical are treated worse than characters who people headcanon to be nuerodivergent.

Because yes the c!Niki shit bothers me so much. She’s not a girlboss. c!Hannah is a girl boss. c!Niki needs to find herself. Or people get upset she’d blame c!Tommy and c!Dream like imagine you live in a country that’s being blown up cause some bitch ass teenager wouldn’t just give over some fucking discs? I’d be pissed too. Who cares that c!Dream was the tyrant he’s never gonna change or anything. Like people refuse to think about how other characters might view things.

C!Wilbur is supposed to be a story of a fall from Grace. People refuse to give him that.

[astrognossienne]

tragic star: keith moon

“If you don't like it, you can fuck off!” - last words of Keith Moon

This one was a long time coming, but frankly, it took me a while to get interested enough in the subject to actually do this analysis, let alone finish it. At any rate, Keith Moon, like most of the drummers from the rock ‘n’ roll period that we still read about today, led a self-destructive lifestyle. A close friend of his once said the drummer was “like a train ride you couldn’t stop.” Not only was his drumming chaotic – so was his life. According to some, he was at his core a kind and generous soul, but to others, he was lost, lonely soul, and terribly immature throughout his adult life. Perhaps it was the sudden success, upon joining the rock band The Who, when he was only 18 (although plenty of others of the same era were as young, or younger, and survived just fine), but Keith was so eager to please and make everyone laugh that he eventually became the “Moon the Loon” character that he was portrayed as in the media. It got to the point where he wasn't sure who he really was. A true Leo, he made a circus out of everything and he wouldn't walk into any room and just listen. He was an attention seeker and he had to have it. He used amphetamines, tranquilizers, drank way too much alcohol, destroyed hotel rooms and friends’ homes, threw TVs into swimming pools, set fires, and the list goes on. He was ultimately unable to outrun or outlast his demons; whether it was the wife and child he drove away, the friend and chauffeur he accidentally killed in early 1970...whatever else haunted him, it ultimately caught up with him just as he was finally trying to improve his life. Friends were well-acquainted with the many sides to Moon’s strange personality; one minute he was insulting, exaggerating, joking – the next minute he’s a wide-eyed, innocent-looking drummer boy. The public Keith Moon was The Who’s manic drummer and hellraising, daredevil comedian; a man who only ever lived in the moment. However, the real Keith Moon was a son, a brother, a father and a deeply insecure man. A man of extremes, his was a complete shitshow of a life.

Keith Moon, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Cancer moon (the moon is speculative). Moon was born to working class parents in Wembley, London, England. He was a hyperactive child by nature and a mediocre student at school. His art teacher said in a report: "Retarded artistically. Idiotic in other respects". His music teacher wrote that Moon "has great ability, but must guard against a tendency to show off." At the age of 12, he had joined the Sea Cadet Corp and was given his first musical instrument, the bugle. He left school by 15 and was in his first band, The Beachcombers. While performing with the Beachcombers, he used to attend concerts of a band called The Detours. At that time The Detours were planning to sign a deal with Fontana Records and for this deal, this band required a new drummer. The Detours changed their name to The Who in 1964. When Moon learned about the band’s need for a new drummer, he approached them for an audition. After the audition, he became their new drummer, and performed with The Who for the first time in 1962.

From the moment he joined, musically the band was complete, although adding his already volatile personality to those of the other three equally headstrong members meant that the early years of the Who's career were fraught with drama and violence, despite their almost immediate success.  Much of the tension came from the fact that Keith readily joined in on popping pills with guitarist Pete Townshend and bassist John Entwistle, while lead singer Roger Daltrey (with whom Keith was never particularly close) didn't. After sacking Roger for two weeks in mid-1965, he was reinstated, band relations improved, and the Who continued to release a string of successful singles and albums before a downturn in their fortunes in 1968. However, the release of the album Tommy in 1969 turned them into international megastars overnight and from that moment until the day Keith died, they would remain one of the top rock bands in the world. Running concurrently with the Who's rise to stardom in the 1960s was Keith's relationship with his wife Kim. She first met Keith in 1965 when he was 19 and she 15, and while they fell in love rather quickly, he exhibited twin streaks of jealousy and insecurity and Moon was occasionally violent towards Kim. While his mental issues, which would now be readily (and correctly) diagnosed as a combination of ADHD and BPD, reared their ugly heads on innumerable occasions, Keith's true personality shone through enough that Kim stayed with him; she decided to marry him when she became pregnant within a year of dating, and they got married in 1966. Their daughter Amanda was born on 12 July. In those days, there was a belief that married rockstars with kids weren’t as appealing to their mostly female fans, and the marriage (and child) were kept secret from the press until May 1968. He loved his daughter, but his absences due to touring and fondness for practical jokes made their relationship uneasy when she was very young. "He had no idea how to be a father", Kim said. "He was too much of a child himself."

The chaotic sixties would not hold a candle to what the new decade had in store for him, however. Shortly after New Year’s in 1970, Moon accidentally killed his friend, driver and bodyguard, Neil Boland, outside the Red Lion pub in Hatfield, Hertfordshire. Pub patrons had begun to attack his Bentley; Moon, drunk, began driving to escape them. During the fracas, he hit Boland. After an investigation, the coroner ruled Boland's death an accident; Moon, having been charged with a number of offences, received an absolute discharge. Those close to Moon said that he was haunted by Boland's death for the rest of his life. Moon had nightmares about the incident and said he had no right to be alive. Also, compounding this tragedy, was the fragile state of Moon’s marriage. Even after marriage and his daughter being born, he was still jealous, self-centered, and abusive to his wife Kim, both verbally and physically. His mental state also deteriorated as his appetite for all manner of pills escalated and he exploded into a full-blown alcoholic. Even after separating for a year, Kim returned to him, hoping that he had finally changed, but the insane lifestyle Keith kept up at their house became too much. Kim and Amanda (nicknamed “Mandy”) finally left for good in 1973. Since his marriage was a central part of Keith's life, their divorce would come to affect him perhaps more than any other event in his adult life and it was a devastation Keith would never recover from. While most people would use an event like this as the impetus to clean up their act, Keith used it instead as an excuse to drive himself further into oblivion.

Moon's lifestyle began to undermine not only his health but his career. During the 1973 Quadrophenia tour, at the Who's debut US date, Moon ingested a mixture of tranquilizers and brandy. During the concert, Moon passed out on his drum kit during the song "Won't Get Fooled Again." The band stopped playing, and a group of roadies carried Moon offstage. After he was given a shower and an injection of cortisone, he was sent back onstage. Moon passed out again during "Magic Bus," and was again removed from the stage. The band continued without him for several songs before Pete Townshend asked, "Can anyone play the drums? – I mean somebody good?" A fan in the audience, who happened to be a drummer, came up and played the rest of the show. During the opening date of the band's March 1976 US tour at the Boston Garden, Moon passed out again over his drum kit after two numbers and the show was rescheduled. By the mid-1970s Keith was living in Los Angeles and getting up to even more insanity with John Lennon, Ringo Starr, Harry Nilsson, and other stars. Even a new love in his life, Swedish model Annette Walter-Lax, couldn't get him to slow down and take control. There were even stints in psychiatric wards after some mental breakdowns brought on by his despair at losing Kim and his daughter and his drinking. His alcohol and drug abuse was now not only affecting his health (he put on a significant amount of weight at this time due to infrequent gigging) but sadly, his drumming. In 1978 soon after he recorded Who Are You, his final album with The Who, depressed by the deterioration of his drumming and threats from the rest of the Who to clean up his act or else, that he finally decided to get some help.  By the summer of 1978, he seemed to be trying to get his life in order, staying sober and solidifying his relationship with Annette. He was terrified to go into rehab or under psychiatric evaluation, however, and instead self-medicated with Heminevrin, a drug used for treating acute withdrawal from alcohol. However, he took too many on his final night and sadly died on September 7, 1978 at the age of 32.

Over forty years after his death, it's still difficult to think of Keith Moon as anything more than just a hard-drinking insane rock star who would smash his drum set on stage or destroy a hotel room. But regardless of the human being behind the drumkit, the legendary drummer should be remembered as the man who forever changed the sound of rock 'n' roll.

Next, I’ll go back to my beloved star analyses by covering a personal favourite of mine; a force of nature and an unsung pioneer of cinema whose death was ridiculously sensationalized and whose colourful life was almost as wild as Moon’s: Cancer Lupe Vélez

Stats

birthdate: August 23, 1946*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Cancer

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Libra

Mars: Libra

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Libra

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Gemini

Neptune: Libra

Pluto: Leo

Overall personality snapshot: He may sometimes have wanted a safe, simple life where he felt emotionally contained and able to pursue his own creative interests. Then, however, the compulsion to strive for a more central, leading role reared its challenging head, and he knew he had it in him – so out into the spotlight he went. So immense was his creative energy as well as his warm feeling for others that he could become both the artistic home-maker and the home-loving artist/writer/entrepreneur. His personality was large and welcoming, colourful and theatrical because he had such an uncanny knack of dramatizing his vivid impressions and selling himself in the most genuine, heartfelt way. Both the paternal and the maternal urge was strong in him. He needed to use his will to project and establish your identity in the world, and to use his instincts to nurture and protect his emotional and material security. The Sun and the Moon are in their ‘home’ signs here, so that potentially he had the creative vision of Apollo and the lunar wisdom of Diana all rolled into one. This could make him pretty overpowering at times, and indeed he needed a partner and a family on whom he could lavish his emotions. His bearing was often aristocratic, sometimes haughty, oversensitive and self-absorbed, but he always seemed to have enough affection to go around so that no one felt left out. He also managed to remain approachable and compassionate because he was so aware of his own vulnerability and need to be loved. Thus he made a warm and understanding friend, and he enjoyed expressing his feelings with original flair and thoughtfulness.

He was protective, possessive and clannish, a stalwart member of his family, group and nation, and utterly devoted to his ideals. Deeply honourable and dependable, he brought an attitude of devotion and romantic style to all he did. He may have actually had a good head for business because he possessed an instinctive knowledge of security needs as well as a shrewd understanding of people, their desires, fears and foibles. His refined taste for comfort and beauty was part of the impetus for success – he knew his own mind and did not easily budge from his preferences and high standards. Aesthetic sensitivity was strong, and combined with his innate tenacity and quiet ambition means that he was quite successful in the arts. Even though he readily turned a bright face to the world, he did not always feel confident and strong. He had a lively sense of individuality, but his potency was sometimes too dependent on emotional familiarity, and the range of his self-expression too circumscribed within repetitive emotional patterns. Inwardly he shied away from encounters with the big, bad world, and early in life he may have needed to find ways of handling challenges that normally push the panic button. This wouldn’t have been hard for him because his creative drive was tremendous and his individuality needed recognition.

He was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. He believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although he could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. He had a high opinion of his mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. He was quite sociable and expected other people to behave well at all times. He was eager for close personal relationships, so he tended to have a wide circle of friends. Self-indulgence was a problem for him, as was laziness and conceit in relationships. He tended to be impatient with superficial details, preferring large-scale situations, and he disliked being tied down by obligations over which he had little control. Conservatism may have affected his creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. He often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all his forms of expression. He could also take herself so seriously, that people think that he was older than his years.

He was part of a generation that was strongly interested in humanitarian ideals, new avenues of communication and progress in mechanical skills. As a member of this generation, he was able to bring original ideas to both his career and spare-time interests. Crises in thought and ideology arose because he looked beyond tradition and old attitudes towards new original and inventive ways of looking at things. His active mind tended to need constant stimulation and his tastes could be quite fickle and difficult to satisfy. He belonged to a time of peace-loving idealism when the family unit and the way relationships were managed underwent great changes. He could be too idealistic and a little unrealistic when it came to matters of love, sex and romance. As a member of this generation, he tended to need to be motivated to make the most of his potential, because the line of least resistance appeared very attractive, especially when it involved pleasure-seeking. He embodied the Libra Neptune generation in the sense that he was a huge part of a time when beauty reappeared in fashion. He was part of a generation which was highlighted by the clash between authoritarianism and individualism. As a member of the Leo Plutonian generation, he wanted freedom in his relationships and demanded the loyalty of his friends as a right. As a member of this generation, he wanted power over his own life and was prepared to challenge established structures. He didn’t feel comfortable being dictated to, unless he in some way agreed to it beforehand. He was a part of excesses of the sixties. He was part of a generation that brought about a revolution in forms of entertainment, recreational activities and leisure time, as well as attitudes towards children.

Love/sex life: He was a lover so in love with the idea of love that nothing else matters. At times his whole-hearted idealism made him too optimistic and too easily deceived by people who promised to fulfill his ideals and then renege but, as delicate and unworldly as his romantic fantasy may seem, it was remarkably durable. Though he may have been misused and hurt, he never lost his faith in the power of true love. Issues of the flesh were always secondary to him and he was apt not to give them much thought. If such urges must be satisfied, then so be it. If sex proved useful in reaching other goals, that was fine too. As long as sex did not intrude on his ideal of perfect love such physical inconveniences hardly mattered. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the world did not agree with him on this point and, measured by their standards, his sexual behaviour may have seemed immoral or at least strangely naïve. He needed to learn to allow for such harsh realities even as he strove to create that grand idyll of perfect love.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Capricorn

Juno: Libra

Chiron: Libra

Vesta: Aries

Ceres: Aquarius

Pallas: Sagittarius

His North Node in Gemini dictated that he needed to prevent his idealism from influencing his thoughts to such a high degree. He needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving his thought processes. His Lilith in Capricorn dictated that he was dangerously attracted to women who had a scrappy plucky attitude hot-wired into their psyche. Against his better judgment, he liked to be around a woman who needed to be in control and to be mistress of her own destiny, because her life was in the control of not-so-well-meaning others as a child. Juno in Libra, he sought a mate who was harmonious, artistic, musical and intelligent. He liked beauty and balance at home. He believed in equal partnerships where all lived up to the letter of the law. Chiron in Libra, he often felt wounded in relationships and could wound others in retaliation. He may have felt he was constantly hurt or rejected in relationships. Through learning that he was whole on his own, he could have freed himself from this destructive pattern. He would have benefited from a partner that could have helped him heal in some way. Vesta in Aries, he was incline to initiate work for religious and humanitarian projects. Action came from a desire to improve every situation. There was a great deal of insecurity in self-evaluation. Ceres in Aquarius, at his best, he had tact and the ability to compromise, making him well liked by all. Pallas in Sagittarius, he had the ability to evaluate true personal worth enabling him to use his resources in the most advantageous ways. Other people may think he was lucky. Ideally speaking, he could have been generally positive instead of being wasteful, and he could have been confident and reliable. Nonetheless, he still used his ideas in a practical way, especially in his career.

elemental dominance:

air

fire

He was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and he liked to stir things up. He was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. He was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. He carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, he lived in his head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at his best, he helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives. He was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. He generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. He was exciting to be around, because he was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, he could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Confident and opinionated, he was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because he was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—he was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at his best, his confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.

modality dominance:

cardinal

He was happiest when he was doing anything new, and he loved to begin new ventures. He enjoyed the challenge of claiming territory. He tended to be an initiator—and a bit territorial as well. Also, he had a tendency to start more things than she could possibly finish.

planet dominants:

Moon

Sun

Venus

He was defined by his inner world; by his emotional reactions to situations, how emotions flowed through him, motivating and compelling him—or limiting him and holding him back. He held great capacity to become a part of the whole rather than attempting to master the parts. He wanted to become whatever it was that he sought. He had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. He likely had strong leadership qualities, he definitely knew who he was, and he had tremendous will. He met challenges and believed in expanding his life. He was romantic, attractive and valued beauty, had an artistic instinct, and was sociable. He had an easy ability to create close personal relationships, for better or worse, and to form business partnerships.

sign dominants:

Leo

Libra

Cancer

He loved being the center of attention and often surrounded himself with admirers. He had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. His flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of his life. He wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At his best, he was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. He loved beauty in all its guises—art, literature, classical music, opera, mathematics, and the human body. He usually was a team player who enjoyed debate but not argument. He was, at his best, an excellent strategist and a master at the power of suggestion. Even though he was likely a courteous, amiable person, he was definitely not a pushover. He tried to use diplomacy and intelligence to get what he wanted. At first meeting, he seemed enigmatic, elusive. He needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call his own. He needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. He was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then he could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. He was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. He was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through him emotionally. He was often moody and always changeable; his interests and social circles shifted constantly. He was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about him under the cut.

Keith John Moon was an English drummer who played with the English rock band the Who. He was noted for his unique style and his eccentric, often self-destructive behaviour. His drumming continues to be praised by critics and musicians. He was posthumously inducted into the Modern Drummer Hall of Fame in 1982, becoming only the second rock drummer to be chosen, and in 2011, Moon was voted the second-greatest drummer in history by a Rolling Stone readers' poll. Moon grew up in Alperton, a suburb of Wembley, in Middlesex, and took up the drums during the early 1960s. After playing with a local band, the Beachcombers, he joined the Who in 1964 before they recorded their first single. Moon remained with the band during their rise to fame, and was quickly recognised for his drumming style, which emphasised tom-toms, cymbal crashes, and drum fills.  He occasionally collaborated with other musicians and later appeared in films, but considered playing in the Who his primary occupation and remained a member of the band until his death. In addition to his talent as a drummer, however, Moon developed a reputation for smashing his kit on stage and destroying hotel rooms on tour. He was fascinated by blowing up toilets with cherry bombs or dynamite, and by destroying television sets. Moon enjoyed touring and socialising, and was bored and restless when the Who were inactive. His 21st birthday party in Flint, Michigan, has been cited as a notorious example of decadent behaviour by rock groups. Moon suffered a number of setbacks during the 1970s, most notably the accidental death of chauffeur Neil Boland and the breakdown of his marriage. He became addicted to alcohol, particularly brandy and champagne, and acquired a reputation for decadence and dark humour; his nickname was "Moon the Loon."  After moving to Los Angeles with personal assistant Peter "Dougal" Butler during the mid-1970s, Moon recorded his only solo album, the poorly received Two Sides of the Moon. While touring with the Who, on several occasions he passed out on stage and was hospitalised. By their final tour with him in 1976, and particularly during production of The Kids Are Alright and Who Are You, the drummer's deterioration was evident. Moon moved back to London in 1978, dying in September of that year from an overdose of Heminevrin, a drug intended to treat or prevent symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. (x)

[rodri11421]

I finished watching “Banished from the Hero's Party, I Decided to Live a Quiet Life in the Countryside” a few weeks ago, but I forgot to write down my thoughts. So... here it goes!

Plot and characters

“Banished from the Hero's Party, I Decided to Live a Quiet Life in the Countryside“ follows the story of Gideon (or Red as he’s called throughout most of the anime), the brother of the hero Ruti. The story begins with him being pressured by one of his party members, the sage Ares, to leave the party because of how his weakness is starting to hold the party back. Gideon agrees with Ares and disappears to the countryside, where a new life awaits him.

Now, how did I feel about our main character? For the most part, I thought he was an okay character. A Jagen-like character who eventually leaves because of how he’s becoming a burden? He learns how to live outside of battling and eventually gets a place he can call home? I liked him quite a lot, at least during the first half of the season. Now, what about the second half? Did his character get exponentially worse? Not really, but it just got really... samey, I guess. His relationship with Ruti and Rit got explored a lot, but I just got a little bit tired of him by the end (he was a little bit too perfect at times, which... kinda went against something I really liked about the premise. I’ll get more into this point later).

I also mentioned two characters above: Ruti and Rit. Ruti is the protagonist’s sister, the hero destined to safe the world. She was, without a shadow of doubt, the best character in the whole show for me: her status as a hero came from God, and her “blessing” basically made her the best hero possible (impossible to poison, get tired or affected by temperatures or weather, great speed and strength, unmatched magical potential...) at the cost of taking other things away from her (she couldn’t taste anything, she couldn’t express her emotions and, in general, she couldn’t do anything unheroic or that would go against the mission to vanquish the Demon King). She has fleshed out relationships with a lot of members of the cast for (I especially enjoyed her friendship with Tisse, an assassin from her party) and the message the writer seeemed to send with her was interesting (Ruti starts taking a drug that lessens the impact that her blessing has on her, allowing her to stop being a hero against her will. Considering how hard it can be to get medication for things like ADHD in Japan, it could be considered a critique of the system. Now whether it was a good one or not, that is for each person to decide, but I personally thought it was fine).

Rit is the princess of a kingdom the hero’s party helped before the plot began. She travels to the countryside to not get involved in any fight for the throne, where she meets Red again after some time. The two eventually get in a quite heartwarming relationship, which is one of the main plotlines of the series. However, while Rit herself is not a bad character (her flashback episodes, her hatred for the Asura demon, her fighting instinct...), she gets brought down by the ecchi elements of the series (did you know that they made her chest bigger in the anime than in the novels? I didn’t, but let me tell you that I wasn’t surprised considering how much the show likes to focus on her boobs) and by how she ends up being kind of a damsel in distress in the last episodes (I cannot remember if it was like that at the beginning, but I sure got a bit annoyed by how she couldn’t practically anything against Ruti, the Asure demon or the dragon summoned by Ares).

Soundtrack

It has a good soundtrack. Nothing incredibly memorable, but nothing too bad.

Ecchi

I’m not sure how I feel about making this category, lmao.

I can be okay with ecchi if I’m in the mood and it isn’t offensively bad, but this is definitely a show that gets brought down by it at times. I would have been okay with it, though, in two cases:

1. If it only got horny when Red and Rit are shown to be intimate with each other as a way to show how their relationship has developed. Sex as part of a relationship is explored in this series, and I felt that portrayal really fit with the our main pairing.

2. If it was just as horny for woman as in the original... But also for the guys. Please anime, I’m bi and I can assure you that, despite what some dudebros would tell you, people wouldn’t mind to have men shown in a sexual light more. They wouldn’t even need to change much, just emphasise Red and other men’s muscles a bit more, show just as much of him as you do Rit in their intimate scenes... Maybe show the mythical Male Anime Nipple...

Ahem, I think we should change the topic.

Miscellaneous things

"he was a little bit too perfect at times, which... kinda went against something I really liked about the premise. I’ll get more into this point later”

Oh, dear, here we go.

At first, Red was introduced as a Jagen-like character, who, for people who don’t play Fire Emblem (by the way, Edelgard is probably one of my favourite characters ever. Play Fire Emblem Three Houses to enjoy that amazing bi emperor) is a character that starts really strong, but eventually becomes kind of bad because of his incredibly bad stat-growth rate; at the point of the story where Ares tells him to leave the party, I thought that Red had got to the point every Jagen reaches where every other character is better than them stat-wise and growth-rate wise, and they get benched. I thought the concept was incredibly cool and that made me excited to see the direction his character would take. However, by the end this portrayal seemed to not have been intended.

At the end of the series, Ruti gets mind-controlled by a sword specifically made to enhance the hero’s blessing, which made her attack Red because he was obstacle to her going back to fighting the Demon King. However, this conflict ends in less than to minutes when red swiftly disarms Ruti. There are other moments that stuck out to me, but this was the most glaring moment that made me see that his weakness was just exaggerated by Ares and fueled by Red’s bad self-confidence.

And that’d be a perfectly fine element in most series! Red was definitely always competent (he has a large variety of skills that he shows during the whole show), but I still felt kinda disappointed because that kind of went against one of the things that got me interested in the series.

Conclusion

It was an okay show. Wouldn’t recommend it if you dislike ecchi, but I wouldn’t consider it a bad anime.

[lunasalix]

My uncle died today. He finally managed to drink himself to death not a month after leaving rehab. He fought demons and addiction his entire adult life, but that's not who he was. He loved classic rock. His religion was nature as much as it was Christianity. He was a farmer to the end. A husband and father. He was thoughtful and although he had little, he would give it all away if he thought someone else needed or would like it.

He is the 5th person I have lost to addiction, and the 2nd in the last 10 months. Each one was full of love and generosity. They were so much more than their pain.

My step brother loved animals, and especially dogs. He was quick-witted, funny, and thoughtful. He was loved intensely and loved back just as intensely. He self-medicated for ADHD and was kicked out of school at the end of his senior year, losing all his scholarships and chances to attend college. That was when he spiraled to more than marijuana. He was given drugs laced with fentanyl which stopped his heart 2 years later at 20 years old.

My other uncle, who passed 2 years ago, was always smiling. He rescued animals, took in people who were without shelter, and raised 2 incredibly kind and responsible children as a single father. When he overdosed, the man he had most recently offered shelter stole all of his belongings and attempted to claim "squatters' law" on the property when my cousins went to sell the house.

My friend grew up in an abusive household. He would often get on the bus covered in welts and horrible bruises. Rather than become hardened by that, he was fiercely protective anyone he felt faced abuse of any kind. When I was sexually assaulted, he defended me. He overdosed following the death of his father and grandmother in a single week at 21 years old.

My partner and his little sister grew up in an extremely abusive and poverty-stricken family. She became addicted to pills at 15, went to rehab then foster care at 16, and ran away from home at 17. It was then that she was taken by her cousin's 26-30 year old friends who trafficked her. Within a month, she overdosed in their home. With witness testimony, text strings, pictures, and videos, the police claimed they didn't have enough information to make any arrests and her murderers walk free today. That was nearly 10 years ago, but it was my first introduction to addiction and the evil that exists in the world. My viewpoints changed dramatically as a result and I still have ptsd from it, which my therapists suspects will be lifelong.

With each loss, I am reminded that we cannot help those who do not want help. I miss them each dearly, but I am not responsible for what happened, nor am I responsible for those in my life who are still battling addiction.

Aside from the last one, no one person is responsible for their deaths. This is a systemic issue that requires societal change. In a place where there is no hope, addiction will rage on, stealing away those we love. Punitive measures and harsh judgment only fan the flames. We must turn to compassionate care. In schools and in adult society.

If someone you love is battling addiction, remember to take care of yourself first. You are not responsible for them. They need you to love them unconditionally, to offer judgement-free companionship, and to be there when and if they are ready for help. Meet them where they are and within your own capacity.