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eds6ngel · 2 years ago

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I Will Always Love You

summary: this is the story of eddie munson. from the meeting of his parents, to the bonding with his mother, and much more. it's time to reveal what his life was like before hawkins, and why the term 'freak' has a deeper connotation than to just describe his appearance.

word count: 14.5k

warnings: fluff, flirting, pet names, make out session, allusions and mentions of sex (but no actual smut), unplanned pregnancy, mentions of birth control, mentions of religion (specifically christianity), virginity loss mention, self-doubt, arguing, mentions of contractions + giving birth, hospitals, emotional manipulation, swearing, criminal activities (stealing - hot-wiring cars), school struggles, physical abuse (to eddie and his mom), gaslighting, yelling, domestic violence, homophobic slurs, mentions of feminism, sexism and racism, mentions of leukaemia + symptoms, blood (cut on forehead), calling an ambulance/911, fainting, paramedics, mentions of IV + looking sick, death, grieving, panic attacks, allusions to autistic traits, bullying, trauma from experiencing death, mentions of drinking, police, social workers, arrest, jail, moving + travelling,

authors note: hi everyone! this is my first ever fanfiction and i've decided to explore the backstory of eddie who's life got cut very short in season 4. there were multiple hints in the show such as having a bad relationship with his dad, living with his uncle, knowing how to hotwire, and having a lot of respect towards women that i decided to say 'you know what? this is never going to get explored canonically, so i'm going to develop this for the duffers!' there's a lot of heavy hitting themes in this which i've included in the warnings (i think i got them all but if i missed any, please do let me know!), so just keep that in mind whilst reading. i really hope you enjoy this, i tried my hardest to include a mix of both canon and non-canon (my own and others) ideas, so i hope it turned out okay! right, that's enough from me and onto the fic!

Evelyn Boyd: a woman in which was described as care-free, honest and kind-spirited by her friends. A country-loving girl one may say, her heart belong to the city of Nashville, Tennessee. Graduating with a 3.9 GPA, she continued her love for nature — working on a local farm just outside of the city, and doing her best to help anyone that needed it.

James Munson: your typical country boy from Mobile, Alabama. Growing up with his mom, dad and little brother (Wayne) in the heart of the county, he had a successful school life; his family was loving, creating a peaceful atmosphere when at home. In the summer of ‘65, he moved to Nashville, Tennessee to pursue the life of farming.

MAY 24TH 1965

It was a typical Nashville summer day; the birds were chirping, the sun shining and the crops growing beautifully. Most days on the farm were quiet for Evelyn, customers would come and go once in a while, but that was a rarity, once a week at most. But today was different. 9am on the dot, the bell rings, signalling the entrance of a customer, or so she thought.

“Hi, welcome to Greenfields Farm, how can I help you today?”

James stared at the woman with wide eyes, he had never seen such beauty in his life. Coming back to reality, he coughs and says “Uh, hi ma’am, I must’ve spoken to your colleague last week about working here, today is supposed to be my first day”.

She admires the way he talks, a thick country twang supporting his polite manner.

“Yes, John did mention you to me last week, I must’ve forgotten the day, excuse me! Come back here, I’ll show you around”. A wide smile graced her face as she led him to the back of the small barn, naturally making the young boy weak at the knees.

She has a spring to her step, her body language matching her bright personality: a ray of sunshine.

“Welcome to the farm!” she says as she outstretches her arms and displays the biggest smile, presenting her sparkling teeth. And at this moment, James thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as she lets out the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard.

He chuckles, “It’s beautiful, everything is demonstrated so perfectly! I definitely chose the right place to work!”

She smiles once again, “Thank you, I try my hardest, but John makes everything look as neat as it does”.

He feels saddened by the girl’s lack of self-confidence, “Oh I’m sure that’s not true! A young lady like you should start giving yourself some more credit considering how hard it is to manage a place like this”.

She feels flattered. John would constantly belittle her with phrases such as “Pick up the pace lady!” and “Why do things always go wrong when you’re on the job?”, but with James, he made her feel welcome and appreciated on the farm.

A blush crept upon her cheeks, “As I said, I do try. Anyway, enough about me, how much about farming do you know?”.

The next few weeks at Greenfields Farm went amazingly. Word of mouth spread fast amongst the small town and they were getting more customers than ever asking about their fresh produce. Customers were not the only thing growing on the farm, James and Evelyn had hit it off almost immediately, the two sharing intimate memories from their childhood one moment before creating silly inside jokes only they would understand. But their mutual love for each other still remains a secret… until today.

The date is July 8th 1965, both Evelyn and James arrived at the farm bright and early to restock the barn. Today would be the day James asks Evelyn out on their first date.

“And over there you put the gree- yes, you’ve got it!” she beams, “You know, you’ve picked up things very quickly for someone who had little experience in this field — excuse the pun there”.

God, does she know how to make his heart flutter, “No need, and thank you, I learnt from the best!”

She lets out that gorgeous laughter than he’ll never get tired of hearing, “Oh stop it, you’re very easy to teach, great listener and communicator, say your girlfriend must love you!”

He froze. This was his shot, now or never. “Um.. I actually don’t have a girlfriend, well at least not yet. That’s what I was going to ask you actually”.

She looks up at him with the softest eyes, thinking: “No way is this about to happen”.

“Gosh, I didn’t think this was going to be so difficult”, he nervously chuckles, “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?”. This is it, time for the stab of rejection from the prettiest girl in Nashville.

But the complete opposite happens, she beams, “I would love to! There’s this cool diner down in the centre of town if you’re interested in that sort of thing?”.

“She accepted?” he thought and shortly replied, “Sounds perfect! How does Saturday at 7pm sound? I’ll pick you up at your place”, he nervously awaits an answer.

“Sounds good to me! I’m not on shift tomorrow so after today, I’ll see you for our first official date?”

“I guess you will!”. Man, what was his life right now?

Saturday came and went, and so did the date, which was beautiful. 7pm on the dot, James picked Evelyn up and drove them to Danny’s Diner. Everything from the decor, to the food, to how they viewed each other was beyond perfect. Conversation came naturally to them thanks to their blossoming friendship and the date allowed for both to understand each other more intimately.

It became a routine for them; 7pm every Saturday, a dinner date, followed by some romantic gesture, and back home. Their first kiss came on the 3rd date. James took Evelyn to a local park in the centre of Nashville, secluded and quiet, it felt like it was them against the world. The birds chirping, the (frankly uncomfortable) picnic blanket scratching against their bare legs, and the taste of gorgeous fruits, picked freshly from their own farm. Their shared love language of physical touch was slowly becoming comfortable for the two of them; both laying their heads upon one another, the sounds of their breaths prominent in the air. Evelyn looks up at him, eyes pouring with love and admiration, thinking “How did I get so lucky?”.

James notices her staring and speaks up, “What are you looking at?”, a slight chuckle joining his question.

“Nothing, just admiring your beauty”, she says, a soft smile attaching itself to her face.

God, did she have a way with words. James stared back at her with an equal amount of adoration, but this time felt different than the others. Usually, there would be subtle flirting between them, typical compliments such as “You look beautiful” and “Looking handsome today”, but the physical closeness changed the atmosphere. His eyes divert to her lips, hoping this is the moment, something he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her two months ago.

“Can I kiss you?”, he asks, a wavering nervousness present in his voice.

She nods back, a one word answer that would change everything: “Yes”.

He leans in, one hand on her cheek, the other supporting her neck as he leans in. She copies his mannerisms as their lips connect. She thought that when people described kissing as “sparks” and “fireworks”, they were over-exaggerating, but oh how she was wrong. The feeling was indescribable, it felt like the world around her went silent, it was just her and him, the tall country boy who swept her off her feet just by existing. They bump noses as they part, a small giggle erupting from both of their mouths.

“Wow”, James lets out, a sigh escaping in relief of what just happened.

“Wow indeed”, she replies back, a gracious smile appearing once again, something he will never get tired of.

Both of them so caught up in the moment, they fail to notice the small droplets of rain landing on their respective cheeks. They look up to see the sky dawning a grey colour and a downpour beginning to start.

“I think that’s our sign to get going!” he shouts, as if the rain was a major blockage in their communication.

“I agree!”, she yells back, giggling at his loud demeanour.

OCTOBER 23RD 1965

Sex wasn’t something Evelyn had full expertise in, or any for that matter. Growing up in Nashville, Christianity was a religion that 80% of the community held, and very strictly. Her parents followed the faith too, which meant “No sex before marriage” was a value instilled in her throughout childhood and more prominently, her teenage years. Abstinence was taught alongside reproduction and conception, she still wears the purity ring her parents got her at 12 years old.

Evelyn wasn’t too sure where she lied on the religious spectrum. Sure, she believed in God and that sinning was wrong, but was everything that was written in scripture correct? If the core values of Christianity are love, compassion and respect, why were so many of the Bible verses judgemental of others behaviours?

“No sex before marriage” was one of the values she constantly contemplated. If she loved someone that much, why did a legal bonding and ceremony have to dictate when she decided to participate in sex? Was the mutual love and respect for each other before marriage not valid enough?

James on the other hand, was far from a virgin. He lost his virginity to Mary Rosenberg at his senior year graduation party. His parents still believe he was waiting until marriage, but James knew he was never going to live up to that belief.

Today was the first time James was coming over to Evelyn’s to stay the night. They’ve spent hours staying up late, talking about everything under the sun in the past, but James would always drive Evelyn back home before the clock struck midnight. But today… today was different, something new for their relationship, something Evelyn could’ve never imagined.

She ran to the door excitedly the second she heard the bell ring. Opening the door with great force, she leaps at him, pulling him in for a tight hug. Voice mushed by her face buried in his shoulder, she says:

“Hi darlin’, missed you”.

He wraps his arms around her waist, “Missed you too doll face”.

The night went like any other: Evelyn cooked a delicious spaghetti meal, sprinkled with cheese and fresh herbs from the farm. To follow, they sat on her green couch and watched “The Lawrence Welk Show”, but neither of them were paying attention, catching up on the week’s shenanigans.

“You know, I got to say you were my girlfriend publicly this week”, a proud smile plastering his face.

“Wait, why?”, she asks, confused on what situation that could’ve been brought up.

“Well, I was hanging out at the bar after work on Tuesday and some woman was trying to flirt with me, had to tell her I was taken by the wonderful girl sitting in front of me right now”, he replies, smirking.

She blushes in return, “Well, I’m glad you pushed her away, I know some of the women around here can be kind of… persuasive”.

“I would never have let her do anything, I love you too much for that-”. He freezes, not meaning for those three words to come out so casually.

“Wait, you love me?”, she says, a blush creeping onto her face.

“I, uhm, well of course I do, I just didn’t know when to say it. Like is now to early on or should I have said it earlier to reassure you-”

He never got to finish his sentence as her soft lips met his in a loving kiss. He falls into her motion as he grabs both sides of her face with his hands. They separate, both breathing heavily.

“I love you too darlin’” she says as she pulls him back in for another tender kiss. He places one hand behind her head, the other behind her back; her hands are placed delicately on his cheeks. The kiss begins to become more heated as James’ hand slides up the inside of her shirt whilst hers settle behind his neck, slightly pulling on his hair. He lays her down on the couch tenderly as he hovers over her small frame.

They both part for air, James breaking the heated silence by saying: “Sweetheart, if this is where I think it’s going, I don’t have any condoms on me”, looking at her lovingly.

She smiles back and reassures him, “Don’t worry my love, I’m on birth control, I trust you”.

Those last three words were all he needed to hear as he swept her up into his arms and took her to the bedroom.

NOVEMBER 13TH 1965

A week late.

Her period was never late.

Evelyn’s cycle was very regular thanks to her birth control. She’s never missed a day of taking her pill and was very aware of her menstrual cycle.

Which led to her one worry: pregnancy.

Although birth control has been widely accessible across the United States for nearly 15 years, it was still not fully reliable in preventing pregnancy.

A thousand questions began racing through her mind: “What if James doesn’t want a baby?”, “What if there are any complications?”, “How am I meant to financially support a child?”

James and Evelyn had not had sex since that night. It’s not that they didn’t want to, they were just more of a romantic gesture couple rather than a sex driven one. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have gotten pregnant from her first time.

She had no choice but to make a doctor’s appointment. Since James was staying around hers for the day, she left him a quick note telling him she was going into town, grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

They thankfully had an appointment free that afternoon. The doctor was very kind and instructed her through what to do and that she would hear back from them in two weeks with the results. Although thankful for the advances in medicine, two weeks was still a long time; much more time to overthink, and especially to blame herself for the situation.

NOVEMBER 27TH 1965

Ring, ring.

James picks up the phone whilst Evelyn is practicing guitar in her bedroom.

“Hello?”

“Hi sir, is Miss Boyd there to speak?”.

“She is, yes, I’m sorry, may I ask who this is?”.

“This is the doctors calling regarding her results from the pregnancy test she submitted two weeks ago”.

Pregnancy test. A fucking pregnancy test. A surge of anger rises in his body which he supresses as he calls to his girlfriend.

“Honey! There’s someone on the phone for you… says it’s the doctors!” he yells into the other room, teeth gritted with frustration.

Shit. She throws her guitar onto her bed and rushes into the living room, quickly grabbing the phone from his hand.

“Hi, yes, this is Evelyn!”, she speaks into the receiver, a slight tremble in her voice.

“Hello Miss Boyd, you’re expecting a call informing you about the results of the pregnancy test you conducted with us, yes?”.

“Uh, yes.. yes I am”. She avoids all eye contact with her boyfriend, who’s sitting on the couch, arms folded across his chest.

“Well I am delighted to inform you that the results came back positive, you are pregnant miss!”.

Pregnant. The word ringing around in her head like a deadly whisper.

“Um.. wow, well, thank you so much”.

“You are very welcome ma’am, I wish you a smooth pregnancy and pray that everything goes well for you!”

“Thank you once again, bye bye now”. She puts the phone down. A silence fills the air.

James breaks the uncomfortable nature with words she wished not to hear: “So, is it positive?”, showing an annoyed expression.

She take a large gulp before admitting the truth: “Yes”.

James stands up from his spot on the couch and makes his way over to Evelyn.

“’I trust you.’ That’s what you said to me! You promised you were on birth control and that everything would be completely fine, well look at you now, pregnant with a child neither of us want!”

Evelyn avoids his eyes as she spills out the sentence that she knew James would never want to hear: “What if I do want to raise them?”

He lets out a laugh, but not the one she came to love on their first day of meeting, no, this laugh had a much more sarcastic tone.

“You? Raising a child? At 19 years old? You’ve got to be joking! Evelyn, listen to me, you cannot raise a child. You do not have the strength in you to do that! You can barely lift 2 crates at the farm without asking for my help, let alone give birth and mother another human being!”.

Tears began to form in her eyes. This was not the James she grew to care and love. The James she knew would constantly congratulate and lift up her efforts at the farm, saying “You’re so strong!” and “You’ve got this!”. This James was an entirely different person. Someone she would not have associated herself with if he was like this the whole time.

“What did I do for you to suddenly belittle me like that? You’ve always told me how strong I was and how I was capable of anything I put my mind to. Why are you suddenly doubting my efforts as a mother?”, she says, tears starting to stream down her face.

“Well look at you right now! Crying your eyes out just because I admitted the truth! Do you think a good mother would do something like that? Did you ever think I was just being kind because there were customers around?”, he yells, towering over her small frame.

“So what you said was never true? It was all just an act to seem polite at work?”, she questions, the tears leaving stains.

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth!”, he sighs, “I’m going home, we can talk about this another time, when you’ve thought this through”. He grabs his coat before slamming the door behind him.

This was the reaction she hoped to have never happened; the self-doubt that kept re-playing over and over in her head, it was becoming a reality.

It took an entire week for James to even speak to Evelyn. Whilst working, the two ignored each other completely. Evelyn proved to him that she was capable; she didn’t ask for help when carrying crates or re-stocking the barn, she completed all of her tasks by herself.

Early one Saturday morning, Evelyn heard a knock at her door. As she cautiously opened it, outside stood James.

“Now before you say anything, I am so incredibly sorry. What I did was completely wrong, and there’s no excuse to justify my actions. You are strong, capable and beautiful, you always have been, ever since I met you 6 months ago. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a demeaning manner and I think I was just scared, scared of becoming a father. But I really do want this, I want to be in this baby’s life, I want to support them in any way I can and live up to the role model that my father was for me. I really hope you can forgive me Evelyn”.

She stood there in shock. After not even looking at her for a whole week, he visits her apartment to apologise. Self-doubt starts to run through her head again: “If you do turn him away, are you capable of raising a child all by yourself?”, “If he’s in the baby’s life, he could be an amazing father, just look at the way he’s treated you up until last week!”, “He said he was just scared, you’re scared too! His reaction to the news was just different to yours!”.

She takes a deep breath before breaking the silent atmosphere: “I forgive you James. I understand you were scared, hell, I’m terrified. But we need to get through this together, and if you’re in for this, you need to be in 100% of the time. I can’t have you walking out on me like you did last week”.

He nods, “I understand doll, I’m 100% in for this. I promise to not walk out on you again”.

She smiles in relief, “Okay, where do we go from here?”.

James followed through on his promise. Throughout her pregnancy, both of them continued working on the farm, and towards the end, James took on more of Evelyn’s shifts so she could rest in time for the delivery. At 6 months, James and Evelyn decided to move into a new place together: a 2 bedroom apartment, enough room for both them and the baby. James was a constant support; he took various trips into town to buy any food for her pregnancy cravings as well as buying all of the baby’s toys and furniture out of his own pocket.

On July 26th 1966 around 8pm, Evelyn started to feel contractions. These lasted mildly for 4 hours before James had to take her to the hospital in the centre of Nashville. Another 8 hours later and Evelyn was ready to push. After 10 minutes of pushing, a beautiful baby boy was welcomed into the world at 8:26am. He had a gorgeous set of curly brown hair, exactly like his mothers. He resembled her a lot, from his eyes to his rounded chin, the only striking resemblance from his father being his nose. They decided on the name Edward, Eddie for short, after Evelyn’s baby cousin who she admired dearly.

After two long days of recovery for his mother, Edward James Munson was brought back to the small plant-filled apartment on the outskirts of the city. His room was decorated with blue wallpaper, scattered with rocket ships and astronauts, with a wooden crib situated in the centre of the small room. A tiny bookshelf, a box full of toys and a playmat were also featured on display. It’s safe to say that Eddie would have a wonderful new life filled with love and care from his parents.

FEBRUARY 18TH 1967

Eddie was nicknamed by his mother “little rascal”, and quite suitably too. Ever since he learnt how to crawl 2 months ago, Eddie’s favourite pastime was to explore their single floored apartment, ignoring every toy that was in sight. Today, Eddie has decided to make his way into his parent’s room.

“Come back here you little rascal!”, she calming shouts as she runs after her small boy. She turns the corner and finds him mesmerised by her acoustic guitar perched in the corner of her and her boyfriend’s room.

“Have you found my guitar mister?”, she says softly. Eddie’s eyes are still fixated on the mysterious object as his hand begins to reach out towards the strings. “Oh, watch your fingers little guy, don’t want you hurting yourself. You wanna watch mommy play?”, she asks, a smile gracing her face in awe of the young boy. The way his eyes turn to her and glisten with excitement behind the chocolate orbs she gifted him give her confirmation on the answer. “Alright, let me play you a tune”.

She grabs the 7 month old and places him on the fluffy cream rug on the floor, thankful that her son can now sit up without her aid. She sits directly in front of him, guitar in lap. “My dear Eddie boy, today I’ll be performing a little song for you by the incredible Connie Smith called ‘Then and Only Then’”, she announces in a presenter-like voice.

She begins to strum the chords to the song and an angelic voice escapes from her mouth as she sings along to the guitar.

“All that's left inside my heart is just your echo”

“And the tiny thread of hope to which I cling”

“But if I keep holding on maybe some day”

“You'll remember where you left me and come back for me again”

Eddie looks up at her in utter astonishment, he is so intrigued by the instrument and the sound of his mother’s voice. “Come closer my love, help me with the last verse”, she says, guiding the boy closer to her. She grabs his small hand in hers and guides it towards the strings. Holding the chord in place with her left, she pulls Eddie’s hand down the strings, making a beautiful sound. A small gasp comes out of his mouth, surprised at the beauty of the guitar.

“For then and only then will I stop crying”

“And this aching breaking heart of mind will mend”

“Not until I feel your arms around me”

“Will I be happy and I live for then and only then”

“And I live for then and only then”

As she finishes up the song, Eddie lets out a giggle, causing Evelyn to laugh along also. During this memorable activity, James had returned home from work and followed the sounds of the music. He was shocked to see his girlfriend and son playing the guitar together. But this was not a shock of happiness, more like a shock of irritation. He thought, “How dare she be teaching him guitar when there are toys such as trucks and cars which would much more beneficial to him”. He left the two of them be, deciding it would be easier to deal with the situation later on in private, away from the young boy.

It was 9pm that evening. Eddie had been well fed and gone to sleep for the night. James had to be up bright and early to work on the farm tomorrow, but he wasn’t letting an important conversation being left another day.

Evelyn was changing into her pyjamas when James began to question her.

“So, guitar huh?”.

She turned around and looked at him confused, “Yeah? You know I play guitar darlin’”.

He looks her dead in the eyes, “No, not you, OUR son”.

A confused expression remains on her face, “Yeah, he crawled up to it, so I thought I’d play him a song”.

He mumbles: “Looks like he was doing more of the playing than you”.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”.

He speaks more clearly, “I said: Looks like he was doing more of the playing than you”.

Evelyn begins to stand her ground, “And? Is that such a bad thing?”.

James can’t believe what he is hearing right now, “Such a bad thi- how is it not a bad thing? We bought him plenty of trucks, cars, boy’s toys to play with and not only does he completely ignore them all, but you enable that?”.

She begins to become agitated, “Because he doesn’t want to play with them James! I’ve tried over and over again, he just doesn’t look happy playing with them! Today was the first time in weeks I’ve seen him so excited to play with a “toy”. Could you not see how happy he was?”.

“You’re overreacting! He was mildly comfortable at best. I played with those cars with him last week and he was incredibly happy! You’re obviously not trying hard enough”, the words slipping out of his mouth easily.

Evelyn tried to keep her emotions in, but his personal insults hit her right in the gut. “I look after Eds five days a week. Every single day I try with those toys, every goddamn day, and not once has he looked happy. Today has been the first time in a long time that he has remained focused on something for more than 2 minutes. I can’t believe you’re doubting my efforts baby!”.

He scoffs as he sees tears begin to fall down her face, “And there’s the emotional woman again! You question why I doubt your efforts when any time I criticise anything slightly wrong with OUR parenting, because remember, it’s a joint effort, 100% you said, you start crying like a little girl. If we’re in this together like you stated almost 2 years ago, then I am allowed to make our son into a proper man, and damn well make sure you help with that too”.

The tears were flooding down her face now as she demanded: “Get out. I won’t have you insulting me, not again”.

He chuckles, “Fine, I’m off to the bar. Hopefully you’ll get yourself in check and be ready to properly raise our son tomorrow morning”.

He walks out of their room and slams the front door. She hears faint cries from the room next to her: Eddie. She clears her throat and wipes underneath her eyes before going to attend to her son.

SEPTEMBER 20TH 1967

Eddie had recently turned two, so James and Evelyn agreed it was a smart idea to upgrade to a bigger truck for their family of 3. This past week, Evelyn went and got a new key cut as an emergency spare in case one of them lost the original. She decided the best option was to store it in their safe. The two didn’t keep much in their safe, just some important documents such as prescriptions, Eddie’s birth certificate, and family heirlooms passed down through generations.

Eddie was pre-occupied in his playpen so Evelyn took the opportunity to leave her son for a few seconds to put this simple task out of the way. She typed in the code before opening up the silver door. However, something stored inside was very out of the ordinary.

Evelyn and James earned a decent wage between them. Enough to pay the bills each month and keep them alive and healthy. But not even a pay rise would equate to the thousands of dollars stored in their safe.

She began to take it out and count through the piles of cash: $5500. Her mouth spoke her mind, “What the fuck…”.

“Mama!”, she heard Eddie cry from his playpen, her two year old obviously unsatisfied from the lack of attention.

“Comin’ sweetheart!”, she yelled back shakily, piling the cash up as neatly as it was before and chucking in the key, before locking it back up and putting it back in its safe spot.

AUGUST 9TH 1970

As Eddie grew older, Evelyn knew that she was right to assume he was never going to be interested in trucks and cars like his father continued to persist.

Recently, Evelyn had started to notice James had been becoming more persistent in his parenting techniques, ignoring hers completely. He was so persistent that she agreed to take on some of his shifts at work, now spending 3 days at the farm instead of a mere 1.

Evelyn didn’t fully trust James’ suggestion to work more so he could “spend more time being present as a father”, but there had been no complaints from Eddie so far, who was naturally very open with his problems to her.

Today was Evelyn’s day to take care of Eddie. This upcoming year would be the final one before Eddie would be starting elementary school, something her mind could still not fathom.

Throughout the years, Eddie remained a curious and excitable kid, always “bouncing off the walls” she’d like to say. His father not so keen on this behaviour, the words “calm down!” being shouted a lot from him. Evelyn was much more open to his energetic manner, letting that side of his personality run free. Today was no different as she heard his tiny footsteps come running into her room.

“Mama! Mama!”, he yelled to her.

“Yes, my love”, she said, putting her book on her nightstand.

Suddenly, his demeanour became a lot more shy as he asked: “Can you teach me how to play guitar?”.

She beams with happiness, “Of course honey, I would love to! Why were you so nervous to ask sweetheart?”

He looks down to the floor, “Because daddy says it playing guitar is wrong”, a sad expression on his face.

She crouches down to his level and lifts his chin up so his eyes meet hers, “Hey, daddy doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about, this can be our little secret, okay? Daddy doesn’t need to know”.

He slowly nods, “Okay, mama”.

“That’s my boy! Okay, come sit on mama’s lap!”, she says as she pats her legs.

He jumps up onto her bed as she reaches over to grab the guitar off of its stand. He perches himself on her legs as she rests the guitar in front of the two of them.

“Okay baby, this guitar is slightly big for you now, but I’ll teach you the basics of what are called chords. I’ll teach you the chords to a song fresh in my mind called “Let It Be” by the Beatles, do you know them?”

He shakes his head, “No mama”.

She smiles, “That’s okay honey, the Beatles are an amazing rock band who use a lot of acoustic guitar in their songs, perfect for you!”.

Throughout the day, Evelyn teaches Eddie the basic chords to the song, checking on the time to make sure she can put everything back and pre-occupy her son with another “suitable” activity before James arrives home.

At 3:45pm, Evelyn and Eddie finish up for the day. Her boy is a fast learner, already managing to play some clean chords without duding a single string. Now her next job was to make sure Eddie didn’t spill their “little secret”, else she would be terrified of the outcome.

AUGUST 2ND 1971

“Alrighty son, put your shoes on, we’re going out!”, James exclaims as he ties up his own shoelaces.

“But why daddy?”, Eddie says looking disappointed as he stops playing with his toy truck.

“I have a very important lesson to teach you today Eddie boy which involves us heading into town. Although we do have to walk, so I hope those little feet of yours are ready for a trek!”

Eddie stands there, a forced smile appearing on his face, although his tone of voice still presenting as sad, “Okay, daddy”. He paddles into the porch as he puts on his sneakers before taking his dad’s hand and walking into town.

Evelyn was at work today, doing shifts on Monday through to Wednesday, leaving James to take care of Eddie at the beginning of each week, something he was very excited about.

However, in a few weeks time, Eddie would be starting elementary school, something the both of them couldn’t believe, but for very different reasons. For Evelyn, she couldn’t believe her baby boy had grown up so fast, but for James, he couldn’t believe that so much time had been wasted in his early years.

James took Eddie to the nearest grocery store, but stopped near one of the cars at the back of the parking lot. It was a bright, hot summers day, so many cars left their windows open to let in the cooler breeze.

“Alright son, I’m going to get in through the window and I’ll help you in afterwards okay?”.

Eddie felt this was wrong, this did not look like their big truck back home, and no car he’d ever seen in his life.

“But why are we getting in daddy? This isn’t our car”, he said, a worried expression gracing his face.

His son was smart, something he got off of his mother, he would have to lie through his teeth to get his 5 year old to believe him. “Don’t worry Eddie, this is cousin Carol’s car, she said to bring it to her as she left it at the store last night, now c’mon, jump in!”

Eddie reluctantly lifts his arms up so his dad can lift him in through the window. Now sat in front of his dad in the driver’s seat, his dad opens up the glove box and grabs a screwdriver situated there.

“Okay Eddie, grab onto my hand, and twist the screwdriver left”, he states to the younger boy.

He does as his father asks of him, but questions, “Can I tell mama we helped out cousin Carol with her car today?”.

James almost freezes as the plastic cover comes off, he takes a quick peak around the parking lot of the store, making sure the coast is clear before replying, “Oh no son, this will be our little secret”.

Eddie stopped as he had a flash of deja vu, his dad repeating the same phrase his mom once told him when he started to learn guitar:

“Our little secret”.

His father pulls him from his worries, “You with me boy? We don’t have all day!”, a slight agitation to his tone.

“Yes daddy, sorry”, he replies, snapping back to reality.

James ruffles his hair, “Good boy, now you want these two red wires here and what I’m going to do is strip some of what we call the insulation from these two wires okay? Just watch and learn for this part”.

Eddie watches his dad, still having a feeling of uneasiness in his stomach. “Okay, now twist these two orange end bits together very tight”. Eddie repeats his father’s commands, successfully tying the wires together.

“Good job son, now I’m going to strip this wire as well, this is called the starter wire”. Once again, Eddie watches his father strip the end of the wire, before he says “Okay now take the red wires in your right hand and the starter wire in your left, okay?”

“Okay daddy”, he says as he takes them in each of his hands.

“Now, lightly tap these two wires together, but be careful now, once you hear the engine start, immediately stop, okay?”

“Alright daddy”. Eddie pokes his tongue out as he lightly taps the wires together, however, he does not hear the engine start as he does this.

Five minutes later and Eddie has still not successfully started the engine. James is beginning to get worried, the longest he’s ever taken to do this, even as child, was a maximum of two minutes, not long enough to get him caught. “Hurry the hell up son, we don’t have all day!”, he says, beginning to raise his voice.

“I’m trying daddy, it’s difficult”, he says, a slight panic wavering in his voice, afraid of his father speaking louder than usual.

Another five minutes pass, still no sign of the car starting. In the distance, James sees a woman begin to walk in their direction, towards the very car they are perched in.

“Eddie, get out of the car”, he says, trying to keep his cool.

“But you said we needed to help-”, he asks worriedly.

“Get out the goddamn car!”, he yells into Eddie’s ear.

Scared for his life, Eddie drops the two wires and scrambles up to stand on the seat. James lifts him back onto the concrete floor before sliding back out the car window. He picks up his son and runs back home, hearing a voice in the distance yelling, “Hey! What the hell did you do to my car?”.

James unlocks the front door to their house. He steps into the front porch and puts Eddie on the ground. Before Eddie can run more than five feet in front of him, his father yells, “Get the hell back here!”. Eddie slowly turns around and walks back over to his dad, his eyes looking directly at the wooden floor.

James lifts Eddie’s head up, but it doesn’t feel like the same soft hand his mother uses, no, this felt rough. Before Eddie could even apologise, James lifts his hand up in the air before..

Slap.

Eddie felt a sharp sting on the side of his cheek. Before he could even process the pain, his father grabbed the collar of his jacket and brought him to his eye-line.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing back there?”, he screamed in his face.

Before he could even think, the words he would soon regret spill from his mouth, “I thought you said we were helping cousin Carol with her car!”. A few tears started to spill down his face, a mixture of sadness and pain.

“Oh man up boy, you really believed that? I’m teaching you how to be a real man, not some fairy like your mother is teaching you to be. Now next time, you’ll learn how to be faster, and not be some screw up like your mother’s side of the family”. He throws his son to the ground before storming past him into his bedroom.

Eddie sits there in shock. He slowly gets up, a pain shooting through the side of his body and his cheek. He walks towards his own room and closes the door softly behind him. Throwing his shoes onto the floor, he climbs into his bed and crawls under the covers. He lets out the loudest scream he could and balls his eyes out. How could his dad ever treat him like that for such a simple mistake?

APRIL 6TH 1972

It took Eddie a whole 7 months before he finally revealed the truth to his mom. He was off school for Spring Break, his dad taking him out to hot-wire another car the past weekend. His brain had sadly memorised the steps and he has successfully managed to hot-wire 3 cars in the past month. He knew at this point it was wrong, James took Eddie with him to trade in the stolen cars for thousands of dollars. He learnt how wrong it was when the teacher in school taught him the word “stealing”. Miss Dolly said stealing meant: “Taking something that wasn’t yours and not giving it back”. His dad did exactly this.

It was a lovely Thursday in spring when Eddie decided to tell his mother what had been going on, feeling it was a safe time since his father was at work.

“Mama, can I tell you someting?”, he asks shyly.

“Of course baby, you can always tell me anything”, she replies, a sweet smile gracing her face.

“Um.. when you’re working, daddy takes me to the stwore and he gets me to start cars”.

A confused look on her face, she says: “Start cars? What do you mean honey?”.

“I think it’s called steawing, taking someting that isn’t yours and not giving it back”.

James was taking him to steal cars? Before she can respond, Eddie continues, “And sometimes he takes tese cars to a guy and he gets lots of money for it”.

Her blood is now boiling. Her own boyfriend is not only stealing cars, but teaching their son how to steal them too? She keeps up a soft attitude for her son, not letting her anger towards James be brought onto Eddie, she knows this isn’t his fault.

“And how do you feel about all of this baby?”, she needed to ask him this, she needed to know whether Eddie thought it was right, whether he was told it was right.

“I don’t wike it, it feels wrong. I don’t wike steawing cars, but daddy tells me off if I don’t do it. I don’t wanna do it mama”.

Her anger for her boyfriend takes a backseat for a moment as a wave of sadness strikes her in regards to the 5 year old boy standing in front of her. He looks guilty, like he shouldn’t be telling her this. “Okay baby, I’ll talk to daddy later on okay? I’ll tell him you don’t like it and to do something else with you when I’m at work okay?”. She crouches down and takes his small frame into his arms, wrapping her arms around him. Evelyn hears quiet sniffles coming from her son, “Hey, hey, why are you crying my love?”, she asks as she strokes the boy’s hair and wipes the tears falling down his face.

“I-I’m scared mama, I-I don’t want daddy to hurt me again. He said it’s our secwet and n-not to tell you”.

“I won’t let him hurt you okay baby? Mama’s got you, I promise. You’re such a brave boy for me, so incredibly brave, like this brave”, she stretches her arms out as wide as they can go, making Eddie laugh.

“Now, wanna play some guitar before daddy gets home? You’ve almost mastered “Let It Be” baby!”, she suggests, trying to distract her son, and herself, before she lashed out her anger towards James later.

Later that night, Evelyn was storing her clothes fresh from the dryer as James walked out of the shower. She was going to wait for him to change before admitting to him what her son had told her a mere 6 hours ago. Eddie was pre-occupied in room with his toys, dragons becoming something that Evelyn found kept him entertained, a surprising approval from James.

“Honey, we need to talk about something”, she kept her nervousness to a minimum, avoiding to let herself becoming too emotional, she’s going to stand her ground this time, she’s going to do it for Eddie.

“Sure, what is it doll?”. Her favourite pet name, something she loved, but she was not going to let that get in the way of her goal: to get James to own up to his mistakes.

“Eddie told me earlier what you two have been up to whilst I’ve been working: stealing cars. He said he really doesn’t like it James. I know I can’t control what you do with your life, but I’d appreciate if you leave our son out of your hobby”.

He scoffs, “Oh so what? You can teach him how to braid girl’s hair and let him play with dolls? Let him act like a girl, become all soft, not learn any values of what it takes to become a man? Yeah, sounds exactly like your parenting”.

She keeps the tears in, she’s not letting him get to her this time. “I’m not letting you insult my parenting James, not again. This is what Eddie personally told me earlier today, this is not a result of me, he came to me. He told me he didn’t like it and wants you to stop taking him”.

“And why do you think he thinks that way? My father taught me as a kid how to hotwire cars and I never once complained. I realised what it took to be a man through that experience. You should be thankful it’s not something worse”.

Thankful? She couldn’t control her anger any longer, she was fed up of being the quiet housewife. “Is that why you’ve been hiding all that cash from me?”.

He looked her dead in the eyes, “What did you just say to me?”, he says with a stern expression on his face.

“I kept quiet for months, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I saw the stacks of cash in our safe. I wondered where you got all that money from in such a little amount of time, but I think you just gave me the answer”. She may regret saying this, but she had to tell the truth, her truth.

He towers over her, but she stands her ground, an angry look gracing her face. “You ungrateful little bitch! I’ve been earning that money through hard work so we could live in the city, away from this shithole and the first thing you do is complain about it?”. Evelyn remained as calm as possible, but the emotions could not stay in after what James did next.

Slap.

From the next room, Eddie sat up in his bed. He recognised that sound. The sound he had been hearing nearly every week for the past 7 months. His dad was hitting his mom. He jumped out of his bed and rushed into his parents room.

He could not believe the sight in front of him. James had one hand tightly gripping Evelyn’s chin and the other holding her hair with a strong grip. Tears began to roll down Eddie’s face.

“You think you own this house but you don’t! Everything I do with my son you complain about, but everything you do is apparently right! Now you have the fucking audacity to get angry at me for earning money that could get the three of us a better life!”

Slap.

“You speak about me like I treat my son like shit, but I don’t. I teach the ways of hard work and discipline, something that will get him much further in life than what you’re teaching him! You never take the fucking blame for anything and always pin it on me! Now you stop being an ungrateful brat and shut the hell up, or I’ll hurt you much worse than what I’m doing now!”.

James tugs harshly at Evelyn’s hair, a cry of pain escapes from her mouth. Eddie couldn’t stop the words that came out from seeing his mother in pain:

“STOP IT!”.

It’s as if you could see the fire burning in James’ eyes. He throws Evelyn out of his reach, her using her hands to stop her tumbling into the closet behind her, as he storms over to his son. Like before, he grabs him by his shirt collar, before raising his hand to deliver the hardest hit he’s ever thrown at Eddie.

“James stop, don’t hurt him-”, Evelyn cries out, the tears now streaming down her face.

But it was too late.

Slap.

“I told you this was our little secret, and you go spilling it to your mother! You should be ashamed of yourself boy! If I ever see you do one more thing out of line from what I’ve told you, I’ll hit you a lot harder, you understand me?”. Eddie is frozen in fear, he slowly nods, not wanting to upset his dad more.

James threw his son off of him and onto the ground, thankfully the landing being softened by the green rug on their floor. James walks out of their room and into the hallway, grabbing his jacket before spitting at them: “You’re both fucking disgraces”. A loud slam of the front door echoes through their small apartment.

Eddie and Evelyn make eye contact with each other before she rushes to her son’s side. He falls into her arms as she shushes him and kisses his brown curls.

“It’s okay baby, shh, it’s okay, mama’s here, mama’s here”, the tears still falling down her face despite putting on a brave and supportive attitude for her son who was screaming out in agony, a mixture of sadness and pain.

They both stayed in the middle of her bedroom hugging each other to death for what seemed like hours, recovering from the event that had just happened.

JUNE 14TH 1974

Evelyn really wanted to leave. If she could, she would. But with her only working 3 days a week, she didn’t have the money to just up and leave. As bad as it sounded, she relied too much on James.

It was currently summer break, Eddie finishing 2nd grade in May. He was having trouble fitting in with the boys, however, he had a few friends which were girls. Although, not many of the other moms were fond of this, trying to keep their daughters away from the curly haired boy. Eddie had talked to Evelyn about this, how he didn’t fit into school, only enjoying activities such as English and Art, struggling with Math and History. She had no idea whether James knew about this, but she highly doubted it, Eddie was fearful of his father, and rightfully so.

Now that it was summer, Eddie could spend a lot of time with his mom, something he enjoyed a lot, he was very attached to her.

“Eddie my love, I have a new song for you to learn!”, she shouts calmly from her bedroom.

“Coming mama!”. The boy was now a lot taller, reaching the height of her waist, and his curly brown hair reaching his shoulder.

“Hey baby, this new song came out recently called “I Will Always Love You” by Dolly Parton, do you remember me showing you her other song “Jolene” not too long ago?”, she asks politely.

“Yes mama, the one that goes ‘Jolene, I’m beggin’ of ya please don’t take my man’?”

“That’s the one honey! C’mon, I recently bought the vinyl of the album, take a listen to the song!”.

Evelyn recently discovered that not only did Eddie have a gift for playing the guitar, but also singing, two talents that fit together very nicely. Eddie was also learning how to play songs from listening to the song, rather than Evelyn telling him.

“I’m going to give you a helping hand to start, the capo goes on the 2nd fret”.

The boy smiles as she places the capo on the guitar, “Okay, thank you mama!”.

“You’re welcome honey”. Eddie was also a particularly fast learner, especially with songs like this that had a repetitive chord pattern throughout.

It took Eddie a mere hour to figure out the songs had a mere 4 chords, and only switched pattern during the chorus. He mastered the song pretty much instantly, and was learning the words also.

“I’m assuming you like the song baby?”.

“I love it mama! Can I listen to the whole album soon?”, he asks.

“Of course my love, we can listen to it tomorrow if you would like?”.

“Yes please mama!”, he exclaims, excitedly moving his body slightly up and down.

She giggles, “Okay, okay, we’ll do that. For now though, how about you play the chords and I sing, yeah?”.

“Okay mama!”, he gets comfortable and begins to play the intro of the song.

“If I should stay”

“Well I would only be in your way”

“And so I'll go, and yet I know”

“I'll think of you each step of the way”

Evelyn puts on the thickest country accent she can as the final verse hits.

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

She addressed that entire verse to Eddie. Despite this being a love song, she felt it as familial love towards her son, her one and only.

“I will always love you”

Eddie strums the final chord as Evelyn begins clapping, cheering on her son for his achievement. This will always be her favourite bonding activity with her son, no matter what age he is. Whether it was when he was 7 months old, sitting on her lap listening to her play Connie Smith or when he’s 20, playing a future country superstar’s song on his own guitar she will eventually buy him.

MARCH 6TH 1975

Eddie had no choice but to tell his dad his school issues. His mom now working Saturday through to Wednesday, the only time he was alone with her was a mere 2 hours after school on Thursdays and Fridays. James did not take lightly to Eddie letting him know he was having trouble making friends, addressing the problem with a hit to the face and a classic “man up”.

Which led to James blaming this problem on Evelyn.

“So, wanna address why our son told me earlier today he has made a grand total of zero friends at school?”, he says with a monotone voice.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware that he hasn’t my love I’ll-”, she was cut off by him.

“I mean I wouldn’t want to be either if I saw what his mom looked like. I mean you’re not setting the greatest example for the kid are you? Between the way you present yourself and the way you’ve raised him no wonder he’s all alone”.

“Why is it always my fault?” she wondered before replying, “You do the school run most of the time James, so how is this my fault?”.

He huffs, “Disgusting looking people are more memorable than the neat ones, easier to remember your face than mine”.

Disgusting.

“You think I’m disgusting?”, she says softly. She’s been practicing to keep her emotions in check around James. She knows she shouldn’t have to, but the fear of what the outcome could be was worth it.

He chuckles, “Oh come on, you know I don’t mean it like that. I’m just sayin’ you arriving at the school covered in dirt and sweat, your hair sticking to your face, compared to me who goes home and showers before thinking of picking up the kid, it makes an everlasting impression of the young boy”.

That look was the one he fell in love with almost 10 years ago. Young farm girl Evelyn with a messy bun and overalls covered in soil. Now it was the main problem for her son’s happiness. Whatever she did, it was wrong in his books. It may have been correct at one point in time, but it would never be now.

“Just a thought sweetheart. How about you try it out and see if it makes the difference hmm?”. He may have posed it as a question, but it was a demand. She wasn’t going to do it. Not at all. She’d shower after she brought Eddie back home to present to James she was a fresh face picking him up. She’d give Eddie some advice herself. Some good advice.

NOVEMBER 9TH 1975

Being a mother and working 5 days a week was taking a great toll on Evelyn. Sure this was what most mothers did now, after the fight for feminism gave women more freedom to go out and work, but something felt off for her.

A couple hours of working a day and Evelyn would get the biggest headaches. She’d get really hot, even though the temperatures were currently dropping leading into the winter months. By the end of each day, she’d be exhausted, and yet she still took care of Eddie after school, made sure he was fed, put to sleep, his typical routine, before repeating the same actions for herself.

Speaking to James about her problems was a nightmare. All he told her was she was “being lazy” and to “work harder”. With both of them working together on the farm some days, she had no choice but to act healthier than she was, following the “advice” she just so wishes she could ignore. And even on the days he wasn’t with her, she had to make sure all the work was complete, else all she would get is complaints and harm from her boyfriend.

She went to the doctor one Thursday, telling him about her symptoms. The advice she was given was extremely counter-productive, the man just complaining that it was due to exhaustion, even throwing in a few of his viewpoints about women belonging in the home.

She realised she had no one to turn to. Her own boyfriend dismissing her issues, her doctor overlooking her worries in favour of his opinions on women’s role in society, and her main source of comfort being way too young to understand.

She was alone. Her only option was to pray to God it was nothing too serious, and that it would soon fade away.

FEBRUARY 26TH 1976

Everything seemed to get worse as the months went on. Even on the days she was able to rest, she felt exhausted. Like today.

Despite her restlessness, she kept up the energy to pick up her 9 year old son from school. Everything felt safer when he was around. Even if she wanted to just fall asleep, she wouldn’t dare miss the sound of her son’s excitement and laughter as he told her about what happened at school that day. Luckily, Eddie had managed to make some friends over the last year. Mostly girls, something James was not fond of, but as long as he was happy, Evelyn didn’t mind if they were girls or boys.

She was chopping up fresh vegetables from the farm for their soup as her son rambled about his day. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her head, one stronger than she’s ever felt before.

“Sorry to interrupt you baby, but can you take over for a second?”, she asks politely, trying to mask the immense amount of pain she was in.

“Sure mom, are you okay?”, he asks, a concerned expression on his face as he takes the sharp knife from her hand.

Her vision is starting to become blurry as she makes her way over to the table, “I’ll be fine baby, just give me a minute”.

Not even able to chop one tomato, he hears a loud thump on the floor. He quickly turns around to see his mom lying on the floor, eyes closed.

“MOM!”, he shouts as he rushes over to her side. He breaths heavily as she lays there lifeless. He puts his knowledge from health class to the test and finds her pulse.

It’s beating.

He thanks the Lord. However, a cut on her forehead begins to bleed. A lot. He knew his dad would most likely not come home for this, so his only other option was to call 911.

Reluctant to leave her side, he rushes to the other side of the kitchen and picks the phone up off its stand. He quickly dials the number and a voice immediately speaks through the other end.

“911, what’s your emergency?”.

Breathe, Eddie, breathe. “Hi, um, my mom just fell on the floor. She’s alive, I could feel her pulse, but she’s not waking up. Also there’s a cut on her head and it’s bleeding, like a lot. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do”.

The man on the other end reassures him, “Don’t apologise son, you did the right thing. Now can you tell me your address? We’ll send an ambulance once you tell us, but we want you to stay on the phone okay? Tell me when you hear a knock on the door and that’ll be them. I’ll then let you go and the paramedics can take over okay? So again, what’s your address?”

Address, stay on the phone, knock on door, put phone down. “Uh yeah, it’s um, 24 **Ashland Lane, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere, I know that’s probably not an issue, but uh, I’m just really scared”. His voice begins to quiver. “She’s been feeling more tired recently, been getting random nosebleeds and headaches. She went to the doctors but they just said it was exhaustion due to her working so much and being a mom, but it has to be more than that. Sorry, I’m rambling, it’s just I know something isn’t right, it hasn’t been right for months”. Tears are streaming down his face at this point.

“You’re okay son, take a deep breath for me. The ambulance is on its way, just keep talking to me okay? Now about the cut on her forehead, have you put anything on it to stop the bleeding?”.

He didn’t even think about that, he just left his mom to bleed out. His level of panic increases. “Uh, no, I forgot, I’m sorry! The phone is all the way over the other side of the kitchen from her so I can’t get to her without leaving you which I know you don’t want me to do!”.

“It’s alright son. What I want you to do is just put the phone to the side for me, don’t put it down, grab a cold washcloth and put it on her head okay? Come back to me once you’ve done that”.

Cold washcloth. “Yes, okay, I got it”, he says before gently putting the phone on the table and running over to the sink to get the washcloth. Once wet, he places it on her forehead. He applies a little bit of pressure, before attending back to the phone.

“Okay, I’ve put the cold cloth on her head”.

Another 10 minutes went by before he heard a knock on the door. Once the dispatcher let him go, he rushed over to the door and directed the paramedics to his mom, still laying still on their kitchen floor. They lifted her onto the stretcher and put her in the ambulance, Eddie joining her in the back.

He hopes everything is okay and that it is just exhaustion, but his mind is telling him it’s something much worse.

MARCH 11TH 1976

Leukaemia.

He shouldn’t be beating himself up over not recognising the symptoms, he was 9 for God’s sake, but it was eating him alive knowing something was wrong, and yet he did nothing.

Ring ring.

“Hello?”, James picked up the phone before Eddie could.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, it’s the hospital here. I’m afraid Evelyn’s health has rapidly declined over the last 24 hours and we are sad to say that we don’t think she’s going to make it another day. I would suggest you and whoever wishes to say their farewells do so in the next few hours”.

He looks over to his son who is reading a book, Lord of the Rings to be exact. If he wants his kid to somewhat behave, he couldn’t deny him seeing his own mother for the last time, no matter how much he wanted not to.

He sighs before replying, “Okay, thank you, our son and I will be right over”. He puts the phone down before making his way over to his son. This was going to be hard to break, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to do it, that’s the nurse’s job.

“Eddie my boy, we’re going to the hospital”, he said bluntly.

He looks up from the book he is engrossed in, putting the bookmark in its place, “What? Is everything okay with mom?”, he asks worriedly.

He has to get Eddie there before it’s too late, else everything will be a lot worse for him to handle.

“No time for questions son, get your shoes on”.

The drive to the hospital was silent, Eddie afraid if he asked anything about his mom, he could suffer the consequences.

They pulled up in the parking lot in their truck, Eddie hopping out before almost running to the front doors.

Once they enter the building, James states their names and relations to Evelyn.

“Room 205 sir, down the end of the hall”, the front desk assistant replies.

“Thank you ma’am”.

Eddie opens the front door into the room. His mom laying on a bed, multiple wires hooked into her arm, connected to different liquids flowing through her veins. Her skin was pale, like a ghost, much worse than when Eddie last visited her, a mere two days ago. He wishes he could’ve visited everyday, maybe he would’ve noticed her quick downfall if he saw how she was yesterday, but with James preventing that, he knew there was nothing he could do.

His voice immediately quivers. He expects a stern talking to later from his dad, probably a few hits to the face, but he couldn’t care less right now, all his attention was on his mom.

He crouches down beside her bed, grabbing onto her hand. It was no longer the soft hand that used to stroke his hair for the past 9 years of his life, now it was all dry and cracked. Her eyes were barely open, a huge scab across her forehead from where she fell over 2 weeks ago.

She croaks out, “Hey baby boy”.

Her voice is extremely weak. He notices the multiple empty water bottles on the side of the table, no amount of hydration was going to resolve any issues. This was it.

He chokes on his own tears, “Hi mom”, he lets out a weak smile.

“How was school today?”. The same four words she repeated almost every day she picked him up.

“It was good”, he replied. He kept it brief, not wanting to just speak about himself for her last moments.

She lifts her hand to cup his cheek, “No baby, tell me all about it”.

He swallowed and debated whether he should be completely honest, knowing he can ramble on for hours. “I-I played with Jennifer today at r-recess, w-we played tag, a-and then we did some art, I m-made a beautiful drawing mom, I’ll g-give it to you when I next visit okay?”. He knew there would be no other visit.

And so did she, but she replied sincerely, “I can’t wait to see it baby, I’m sure it’s amazing as always”.

He giggled and she hummed, the closest sound she could make to a genuine laugh.

“And now, on its 2 year anniversary, here’s Dolly Parton with ‘I Will Always Love You’”, the faint sound of the radio could be heard by the both of them. They locked eyes, Eddie taking the hint and moving the dial to raise the volume.

“Sing for me baby”. He could never deny his mom’s request.

“And I will always love you”

“I will always love you”

He sang softly, his mom weakly joining in.

“Bitter-sweet memories”

“That's all I'm taking with me”

“Good-bye, please don't cry”

Those lyrics hit differently for the both of them now, and they knew it. What was once a sweet country song now had the biggest metaphor for her life.

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

His mind is transported back to 2 years ago, his mom repeating the same words, clear as day. He would’ve never thought his mom would have to wish him that as she lay there in hospital taking her last breaths.

“I will always love you”

She barely breathes out the final line of the song, the final chord of the song being strummed, as she announces:

“Goodbye baby boy”, a weak smile gracing her lips before she closes her eyes.

A long and loud beep could be heard throughout the entire room.

Everything flashed before his eyes: nurses rushing in checking her heartbeat and pulse, the screams ripping from his own mouth, his dad holding him back away from the bed, practically wrestling him. He continued fighting, ears feeling clogged up before he clearly heard the words:

“Evelyn Jane Boyd. Time of death: 18:24”.

“No!”, he screams, “Do something! Please!”, he knew it was no use, but he couldn’t stop the words pouring out.

“I’m so sorry for your loss sir”, the nurse turned and directed towards James.

He completely ignored her, wrestling the boy in his arms and dragging him out from behind the curtain.

“Let’s go son!”, he shouted right into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie continued to fight against his dad, and knowingly failed. His breathing was uneven, tears staining his round cheeks, arms punching his dad’s.

It felt like a blur, a bad nightmare, and all he needed was someone to wake him up.

He knew it would happen as soon as he got in the front door. Five hits to the face.

“Your mother is dead boy, DEAD, all because you have behaved like a little brat since the day you were born. Learning a useless fucking instrument instead of learning how to defend yourself, making friends with girls, probably playing dolls and dress up with them in class, ignoring every single fucking toy we bought you, making your mother waste her time and energy to buy you new ones. All of this, the tiredness, the headaches, the weakness, is because of you, and you should feel extremely ashamed to bring death on your own mother”.

He knew it wasn’t his fault. She raised him amazingly, made him feel safe, warm, loved, the complete opposite of what his father provided him. He should keep his mouth shut, but he wasn’t going to let his father blame his mother’s passing on him, no way in hell.

“This is not my fault! Mom was exhausted from caring for me and working, working way too much. I’m not going to let you blame this on me. Mom died less than an hour ago and you haven’t even let me mourn her before yelling and hitting me, trying to make me feel as if I’m the reason for this. I’m not, and I never will be”.

James was shocked at his son’s reply, stunned even. Never in his life had Eddie talked back to him with such force, he was at a loss for words.

“You continue thinking that son. I can’t be dealing with your disgusting behaviour and tone right now, not after what just happened. Just fuck off and go to your room”.

He should’ve fought back, he should gave him the biggest smack of his life for the attitude his son just gave to him, but he couldn’t. He was turning weak, letting his son tread all over him like a piece of meat. He’d have to bring it harsher punishments, restrictions. He won’t let his son speak to him that way again.

Eddie practically fell face first into his mattress, sobbing into the sheets. He threw his denim jacket over to the other side of his room, not caring that it knocked over his stack of books. He hit anything he could, his bed, his arms, his head, anything in reach. He had never felt so much pain in his life.

He cried himself to sleep that night. He couldn’t care about his routine, it brought back to many memories of his mom helping him. He did the only activity she was never there for: sleeping.

MARCH 18TH 1976

Freak.

It took one week before three boys in Eddie’s class started using that word on him. Word spreads fast around a small town, and between the lack of Eddie’s mother picking him up from school and various customers of the farm asking where Evelyn was, it was bound to be found out by everyone quickly, including kids.

He was just minding his own business during recess, his friend Jennifer hanging out with her girl friends today (not knowing that she was in fact ignoring him after she found out about his mom), so he was all alone. Perched on a bench at the side of the playground finishing up his copy of “Lord of the Rings”, feeling content, something he had not felt much of this past week, until those boys snatched the copy from his hand.

“Whatcha got there, freak?”, one of them aimed their comment at him.

“Look at how many words are in this thing! What a freakin’ nerd”, another remarked, the three of them laughing together.

A sad frown appeared on his face as he reached out to grab his book back, “Can you just give it back please?”, tears threatening to spill down his face. It didn’t take much to set him off these days.

“Aww, gonna go cry to your mommy? Oh wait, you don’t have one no more”, they hollered and sniggered at him. He was in so much shock. Sure, he never had many friends, but nobody treated him like this, let alone targeted him due to his mom’s passing.

They threw his book down onto the muddy floor and ran off laughing. Eddie picked it up, tears streaming down his face. The pages were redeemable, but not for a few hours, he have to let it dry first, unable to read the words at this moment. He left the page open next to him, brought his knees up to his chest, and sobbed violently.

JUNE 7TH 1978

Eddie hadn’t opened his report card yet, but he knew it would be bad. Middle school was not treating him lightly, and with grief still hitting him like a truck, his grades slipped, a lot. He was never the brighest student, struggling with Math and History; his mom used to help him with those two subjects, keeping his grades steady at a C+. But now even subjects he used to enjoy, such as English and Art, were slipping.

He couldn’t focus on anything, the trauma from his mom’s death still haunting him two years later. All of his teachers at the last parent-teacher conference repeated the same eight words to his dad: “Eddie just needs to try a little harder”. And boy did he try. He really did. But nothing in the world could make him focus on the boring words of his math teacher drowning on about algebra.

He knew he most likely flunked every class, the highest he probably got was a D in Art, and that was mainly due to the fact that he could draw, he just didn’t draw what the teacher wanted. Why would he wanna practice watercolour when he could do some detailed drawings of wizards and dragons?

He heard the front door slam, signalling his dad’s arrival home. The past two years had not been easy on Eddie, his dad still holding a grudge against him for apparently causing his mom’s death. He knew he was gonna get beat again in the next 10 minutes, but he had gotten used to the pain now. It wasn’t nice, he knew it was wrong, but no amount of fighting back would solve the issue, in fact, it would just make it ten times worse. So he let it happen.

“Um, dad? I received my report card today”, he looked up at him ready for his constant angry reaction. Eddie could not wash a plate properly at this point and a red mark would be on his face.

“Well, let’s see if it’s any better than when I last spoke to your teachers.. I highly doubt it”, he spat at him, another insult.

Not even two seconds later and his dad’s hands were holding him by the collar of his plaid shirt.

“What the fuck do you think this is?”, he yelled at him.

Eddie scanned the paper: an F in every subject.

“I-I’m sorry sir, I promise I tried my hardest!”, and that was a truthful answer. He did try his hardest, but he could not keep himself focused on anything, apart from his love of fantasy books and drawing mythical creatures.

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.

“That’s one hit for every subject you failed. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into that dumb brain of yours. I expect more from you son, your mother would too”. He was known to bring his mom up everytime he did something wrong, from spending too long reading to having a panic attack, always saying she would be disappointed in him. He knew she wouldn’t, but it still affected him.

He slowly walked to his room in silence. He felt like the whole world was against him. Maybe he deserved to live a shitty life, maybe that was his destiny. He was unplanned after all, it’s not like he was meant to be here in the first place.

DECEMBER 24TH 1978

Christmas Eve. Before his mom died, they used to have a tree that the two of them would decorate at the start of December. Now for a third year running, the house remains bare. Where every other house on the street had Christmas lights that lit up the outside, there’s remained in total darkness.

Eddie was making up the soup his mom taught him how to make. His dad never cooked for him, the only food he ever offered him was a box of fries from the McDonalds drive thru. His dad sat on the couch, bottle of tequila in hand, legs resting on the coffee table in front of him as he watched some boring evening comedy show consisting of the same racist and sexist jokes it had every week.

A knock on the door startled Eddie as he left the chopped vegetables and attended to the door. The people who stood outside were the furthest from what he had expected: 2 police offers and an older woman dressed in a black skirt and white button up.

One of the police officers spoke up first, “Hey kid, is your dad there?”

Before Eddie could answer, James was up off the couch and walking towards the door, “What the hell are you doing here?”.

“Perfect, Mr. Munson, you are under arrest for the theft of four vehicles, anything you say can and will be used against you in the Court of Law. Now turn around for us please”, the other officer announced.

The officers basically turned James around for him as they pinned his arms behind his back and handcuffed him. Eddie could hear the yelling of his dad as the officers took him to the police car. His eyes diverted to the woman standing in front of him as she spoke to him, “Hey Eddie, my name is Betty, your dad is gonna be locked away for a long time okay? He did some awful things that could not go unpunished”.

“Grand theft auto right?”, she sadly nodded at him. “Makes sense, taught me how to hotwire as a kid. I knew it was wrong, but he basically manipulated me into doing it, said it was part of “becoming a man” or something”.

She looks back at him with the same sad expression in her eyes, “I’m so sorry to hear that darlin’, but he’s gonna be locked away now, 10 years at least, probably more. Now, we contacted immediate family and your Uncle Wayne has agreed to take you in up in Indiana. I know this is all quite sudden and a shock to you, but I want you to go and grab as many things you feel suitable for the move, and then we’ll drive up to Hawkins okay? It’ll probably take around 5 hours so we should get there by 7 tonight. Sound good to you?”.

He stood there in shock before slowly nodding and saying, “Yeah, um, alright, I’ll go grab my things”.

He makes his way into his room and grabs as many things as he can: clothes, books, toys, sketchpads, posters from his wall. He begins to bring it out to the woman and apologises, “Sorry, I don’t have anything to store it in”.

She smiles, “That’s okay honey, we can just store it all in the trunk of the car and then when we get there, pile it all into your Uncle’s house”.

He nods again before making his way back to grab the final pieces from his room. He is about to make his way across the living room, but stops and takes a de-tour towards his parent’s room. His mom’s guitar is still perched in the corner of the room, exactly where he found it when he first located it at 7 months old. He picks it up and brings it out with him.

Once everything is stored in the trunk, him and Betty get in the front seats and she starts up the engine.

“Ready to go honey?”, she asks him politely.

“Yeah, I guess I am”, a wave of uncertainty joining his tone.

Most people would be saddened that they’re having to move across the country at 12, their dad is being locked up and their mom died when they were 9, but it felt weirdly freeing for Eddie. Despite moving to a whole new town in a whole new state with a family member he’s never even met, it’s the happiest moment he’s experienced in the last 3 years of his life.

Betty drove into a local trailer park and up to one of the small homes. An older man stood outside, who he assumed was his uncle. He could see the resemblance between his dad and him, similar facial features, with Wayne wearing a red plaid shirt and grey jeans, paired with some brown boots.

The two of them got out of the car, Betty walking up to Wayne and greeting him, before Wayne made his way over to him.

“Hey kid, sorry this is what my place looks like. Haven’t really got the money to be livin’ some place more fancy I ‘spose”, his voice was deeper than his father’s, but had the same strong Southern accent.

“It’s okay, would much rather live here with you than a big house with an asshole as a father”, he chuckled nervously.

Betty interrupted the awkwardness by saying, “Right, shall we move all your stuff inside Eddie?”. He nodded as the three of them unloaded the car.

As they brought Eddie’s belongings into the living room, Wayne apologised again and said, “This place is only a one bedroom, so I moved all my stuff from in there so you could have it. Can’t let a 12 year old boy be sleepin’ on the couch”.

Eddie wanted to offer to take the couch himself, but knew Wayne would deny it, he seemed like too good of a guy to take up Eddie’s suggestion.

Once all the stuff was brought in, Betty said her goodbyes to the two of them and wished him all the best, leaving Wayne and Eddie to themselves.

“Okay kid, I’m gonna leave you to decorate your room how you want. If you need any help, just give me a shout okay?”.

Help. He was offering help.

Eddie tried not to let the emotions get to him as he replied, “Thank you Wayne, but I think I’ll be fine”, he was not used to someone helping him.

“Okay, but if you do, I’m only a call away”, he says as he walks back towards the couch.

Eddie looks around the room. It’s small, but feels weirdly homely. He puts his books and sketchpads on the dresser and piles his clothes into the built-in wardrobe. A massive record player was left at the back, he’d have to build up his collection in the future. Finally, he balanced the acoustic guitar against the end of the bed.

Eddie then flopped onto the sheets. The tears once again began to form, but this time not from sadness, but instead happiness.

He felt happy. Happy he was away from his shitty dad who abused him every day, away from the kids who judged him for his mom passing away, away from the school teachers who picked on him for his lack of concentration. He never had to go back there. He was finally free, he finally felt he belonged here.

He was home.

authors note: thank you so much for reading! as i said before, this is my first ever fanfic i’ve written, i kinda got carried away :’) i just wanted this to be as fleshed out as possible as i had so many ideas!

#eddie munson #edward munson #eddie munson dad #eddie munson mom #wayne munson #eddie munson childhood #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eds6ngel

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oxabyssxo · 6 months ago

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i'm updating this post now (end of september 2024) because i'm no longer suicidal. longer personal post about my updated life situation below the cut.

this blog will continue to exist as my 2010s tumblr nostalgia blog, and as a diary of dealing with this relation and abuse until it either ends or improves, when i have nowhere else to write. but the blog will no longer serve its original purpose of distracting myself from death by trying to feel comfortable with nostalgic things.

sadly the whole reason i was suffering so much turned out to be that my gf of 4 years, who supposedly loved me just as much as i loved her and we were going to get married, was severely cheating on me while on long-distance, and lying to me and manipulating me. i was suffering very badly for a year because she had started acting strange, but i didn't think the extent of her behaviour went that far. i believed her and thought she's just having a really bad mental health time, which of course is still true, but i didn't think that it was this kind of delusional and unempathetic episode where she suddenly didn't care i exist anymore.

i was about to kill myself both before she admitted to the serial cheating (because i was suffering so much and so alone from her acting a different personality for 6+ months) and after she admitted (because the betrayal hurt me worse than anything else that's ever happened in my life, and that's something, because my life has been really, really horrible).

but, i got help, and i stayed at a mental ward for some days and was open about what had happened to all docs and nurses. when i felt stable enough to go to my parents' house to stay there, i told my parents what had happened even though i hate them. i also told my siblings (adults). i also told some online friends. it was a huge relief opening up about how abused i have been, even though i hadn't really realised how abused i was throughout the relationship until now.

after that week at the ward, for the first time in my adult life, i experienced some positive feelings inside me while doing things alone with my siblings / online friends and not thinking about my partner. this showed me that i can survive. that i can be happy without her, and without anyone (at least for now).

so ive been suicidal for 7 years, but i'm not really suicidal now. because i found out that i too really can be happy doing things without a partner, but it just takes time and a lot of help to get out of that position where you feel you can't live without them. it was necessary for me to stay at the ward for a while. it was necessary for me to open up about the relationship and abuse to friends and family and have actual support, instead of trying to protect my partner by keeping quiet about it.

i don't know if anyone will ever read this but if you feel like you can't live without your partner even though they hurt you or they're difficult to live with or they outright abuse you, please seek help, do what i did, open up about what's really troubling you in the relationship to someone (a therapist, trusted friends, preferrably both and more). it's not easy to hear "you deserve better" when you feel like that's not the issue - the issue is that you love that person even if you "deserve better". and the love makes you feel you can't handle being without them. but this really heavy aching for them can also pass even if it doesn't feel like it can right now. even if you feel your souls are tied together. i promise it can change. you just really, really need to stop protecting them and open up about it, and get yourself help and support, try to enjoy things just for yourself with other people than your partner, and then take it from there.

i'm leaving my original intro below so you can see the contrast.

xxx

im a wreck on my last chance before giving up. i have been suicidal for years and if it doesn't get better soon i can't handle this anymore.

i dont give a shit if anyone follows or not, but if you do i want you to be aware im anti capitalism, im against all rich people including your fave celebrities and brands (they could be saving lives and the planet but they arent), im queer, im disabled and broke, im against sexism, queerphobia, racism, ableism, colonialism, classism, fatphobia. the governments and the rich ppl with their companies have fucked over our planet and all the rest of us and i despise them.

when i post disney and similar shit im trying to comfort myself with feelings from back when i still felt hope and aspirations and motivation to stay alive which i no longer have. its not out of supporting companies or being blind to issues. im just a sad human trying to survive and dont know how. if you know how then tell me.

i wanted to be an animator or a comic artist or make games. i liked taking photos, crafting, cooking, going out on walks or biking, singing, going swimming, and horses. i dreamed of being fitter so i could wear more fun clothes and feel happier about the person in the mirror. i wanted to be loved. but i couldnt and cant relate to others because im queer and im weird. i dont like most people and because of that i dont have any real friends. im so lonely. i cant relate to anyone. im never represented anywhere. i just wish that i couldve gone to uni and gotten a degree in something i liked and gotten a job in something i liked. instead im laying here alone and wondering how much longer i can hold on before i give up.

#tags list #m #h

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manwhorror · 9 months ago

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im rapidly approaching another transitional phase in my life (graduating college, and moving back home) and im thinking about the previous transitional phases of my life and how important those little slots of time were to my development.

i think when you change environments or situations it gives you a new opportunity to reinvent yourself. not that you can't do that at any time, but there's a gap that you can slip through unnoticed while no one is looking to do so. its almost embarrassing to change yourself in broad sweeps while other people are paying attention to you. like a change in self has to happen over a period of time on accident, instead of a deliberate calculation of like... okay where do i want to go from here. i guess no one wants to be seen as self-obsessed. i have always been weird about being perceived as self-obsessed. im not entirely sure why. i think partially the misogyny i endured in my upbringing (how dare you, a girl, give a fuck about yourself in a world where no one gives a fuck about girls.)

i have also been very weird about calculating my life. i tried to stop doing this, because it became such a weird thing, but most of my thoughts are thought in past tense. i don't know when it started, but its almost like i think as if im giving an interview to someone else about my life as an old person. its embarrassing to talk about and i feel very exposed doing so. its like i calculate every move and if someone finds out im not actually acting as naturally as im actually pretending to be ill be found out as a fraud. i act as though im being seen through a camera at all times, viewing myself in third person. that's another thing i tried to stop doing. ive done that my whole life. i think that's another thing really tied up with gender. i think it started as an anxious thing, and as i was starting to question my gender it was sort of a self-policing of my femininity, then when i transitioned it was a self-policing of both my femininity and masculinity. i had to try to see myself in the eyes of others to guess at how i was being perceived. and moment by moment, person by person, it was different. i had to act accordingly, or they would tell that something was "off." if i thought they saw me as a girl, i would act accordingly, and vice versa. since i began to pass ive been able to shake this off a bit, but im still wary of the way im perceived. (especially as a bi man who is read as gay frequently.)

one of the first big life transitions i experienced was around the time that i came out as trans. these were two, quite frankly horrible events that happened so unexpectedly that i don't think i ever really left the whiplash from them. one of which was my parents' divorce, which was shocking and out of the blue to begin with, and hard for any child to grapple with, but made worse with the sudden and horrifying sickness and death of a family member only a few months later.

i often think about how my life would be if these two things didn't happen. would i be better off? worse? im really not sure. they felt like a change in the timeline, or some disruption of reality that i never fully returned to. in some way, i turned my heart off when my family member got sick, and it never really recovered from that. at the same time... i don't think i could remove these events in my life. the massive change and the distraction to my parents gave me the cover i needed to fully reinvent myself when it was much, much needed. i was able to leave behind an identity that was uncomfortable and reinvent myself out of the spotlight, and out of the way.

i think big life changes can also offer a new sense of perspective on the world. especially big, earth-shattering changes like death or other griefworthy events. i recently experienced another loss in my personal life. something that has sort of made the world feel different again. the wound is too fresh to make a commentary on it quite yet, and like i said ive been trying to quit that anyway.

i hope the next segment in my life is good. i don't want to keep defining chapters of my life by tragedy.

#big words

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daffodilfool · 1 year ago

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Diary Entry.

Wednesday 04-10-2023

It's spooky month

i missed the first couple days but god damnit who cares

I keep this diary for ME and MYSELF ONLY!

i had a thought this morning which i dont know how to feel about it

i find a strange comfort in knowing the last thing ill ever remember is Outer Wilds

when im 90 years old and riddled with alzheimers and dementia and i've forgotten who i am, who my friends and family are, and everything ive ever made, i will still cry when i hear the calm guitar of timber hearth and the rushing water of the geysers

theres a tumblr post i think of from time to time, while its not exactly a poem in the traditional sense i do think it would be fair to call it such

"I hate it when I can't even write a poem about something because it's too obvious. Like in the aribnb I was at I guess it used to be a kid's room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. Like that's the poem already what's the point? You get it. You get the themes. I don't have time to do it justice. Just look at it. It's on the ceiling."

[Permalink to the tumblr post]

theres a lot of stuff like this

i too have a painted over glow in the dark star in my room

well

a chunk of it

the adhesive stuck to the wall so well we couldnt get it off and the arm snapped leaving only the tip glued to the wall

i still see it through the paint sometimes and wonder if someone in the future will see it and think about it when we eventually move out of the house

fossils too

a living being from millions of years ago frozen in time, quite literally set in stone

as little as a half mandible is enough to reconstruct an entire animal and its life

the lives of those around it

here we are, millions of years later, fawning over a rock with an odd shape

we give it life

we give it personality

we study every inch of its remains all to craft a story of the unknowable world before us

part of it is pursuit of knowledge, sure

but deep down do we really ponder the past because WE want to?

or do we remember the lost souls who have slumbered within the earth for eons to keep the memory of those who are no longer with us alive

Death in life is the death of the body, yes, but so long as you've made a mark, any mark, any sign of your existance, did you ever truly die?

Outer Wilds is poetic

it drives us to find out the dreams and goals of the Nomai

and we say we do it because we want to figure out the mystery

but if it really was just that, how come i still think about Outer Wilds despite knowing everything that happened

to the Nomai

to the Hearthians

to the Owlks

I'm done with Outer Wilds

I've done everything

theres nothing more for me to learn

and yet i keep returning to the game

if for no other reason than to simply say hi to the Hearthians

and to honour the dreams of the Nomai

and to help the Prisoner move on

why is it that when i open the game i spend my first 10 minutes simply standing in the middle of the town and listen to the rushing waterfall and the soothing music

and why is it that when i hear the banjo and the crackles of the Hatchlings campfire get lit, I cry?

by the time im old

when my brain has rotted

i will be looking through everything ive ever written

everything ive ever said

ill be looking through this very diary

you wont remember me

you wont remember baba

you wont remember thyme, or ava, or nessie, or ash

you wont remember your sister, your dog, your mom or dad

you wont remember all the poems you wrote

you wont remember all the drawings you did

you wont remember all the characters you've spent so much time playing with and putting in silly situations

you wont remember the nomads

you wont remember the Janitor

but I know for a fact that whoever is taking care of you by then will put on the theme of Outer Wilds

and i know for a fact that you will remember

You'll shed a tear, and it will be the product of every piece of art you've experienced, everyone you've ever cared about, everything that has had an impact on you, molded you and changed you as a person.

In that moment, though you may not remember me, you'll know that we're still the same person.

Deep down I know you're aware that, despite everything,

I love you.

#diary #outer wilds #echoes of the eye #art #poetry #poem

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the-ghost-king · 4 years ago

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Schizophrenic Nico, here's why I think it's possible:

I want to start off by saying these are just my thoughts, there is no one way to be schizophrenic or to have schizophrenia. It's also important to note that many of the schizophrenic symptoms overlap with other mental illnesses/nuerodivergences like ADHD, Autism, Depression, and OCD which I know many people who head canon Nico as having. I'm not arguing schizophrenic Nico is more correct, more canon, or more right, but to explain some thoughts on why I think it's possible/very likely he does so I can use this for future reference in various thing.

I am using the term schizophrenia as a catchall for all "types" of schizophrenia, but not for schizoaffective disorder which I would say Nico probably doesn't have.

Children born in the winter/those who were "sickly" as babies are more likely to develop schizophrenia. It may also be possible if your mother was sick while pregnant with you, or having a father who was significantly older when he had you.

A stressful life, especially trauma, are more likely to develop schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder. It likely has something to do with excessive dopamine production, but it may also have something to do with the same genes that control the sleep-wake cycle. Schizophrenia is more common with other mental illnesses or with other nuerodivergences or developmental delays.

Common symptoms include:

Hallucinations

Delusions

Disorganized thinking

lack of motivation

slow movement

change in sleep patterns

poor grooming or hygiene

changes in body language and emotions

less interest in social activities

Now what does this mean for Nico, and why do I think it's likely he has Schizophrenia?

Let's start with Nico's childhood, "children born in the winter/those who were "sickly" as babies are more likely to develop schizophrenia". Although Rick proposed two birthdays for Nico, the fandom generally accepted the January date more fully. We also know that Nico is described as small when he was younger, smallness is common in children who grow up sickly, but it is also common in children who's mother was ill while pregnant with them. We obviously don't know if Nico was sick as a kid, or if Maria was sick while pregnant with him, but again being born in the winter makes these things more likely, as well as consideration for the time period Nico grew up in and the larger variety of illnesses going around at the time. (He is vaccinated against some things though).

Trauma and Nico... do I really have to go into super detail on this one? He spent his childhood growing up in a fascist country that was extremely racist/anti-Semitic/homophobic/etc, his mom died when he was a child- in front of him, his father intentionally gave him amnesia, his sister died when he was a child, he then proceeded to become homeless living/spending lots of time with Minos who verbally (and possibly physically) abused him, becoming aware of his past memories, becoming aware of the fact that many people hated him because of his father and because they thought he was joining the other side (therefore, he was "bad"), he fought in many battles as a child, fought monsters alone, was often faced with life or death situations, went to Tartarus alone (where the goddess of misery told him he was "perfect"), was trapped in a hostage situation with little/no air for a long time while people debated whether or not to save him, was outed against his will, was freed only to travel again fighting monsters and then win a battle, was eventually made to quest with Apollo despite still having lots of healing to do in ToN. So stressful life? Fuck yeah, that doesn't being to cover it.

Genetic factors, obviously nothing here is confirmed so I'm speculating a little bit again, but the common idea in regards to Hades children through the series is that they are "bad". Mental illnesses have been stigmatized for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and often mentally ill people were made out to be weird/bad/etc. It's more than possible there is some sort of genetic factor taking place, also "having a father who was significantly older when he had you". Although I doubt godly genes work the same as mortal ones (trust me I have lots of thoughts on how god genetics/DNA work, but that's not the point right now), I think Hades being the oldest out of all his brothers and having a reputation for having "questionable" children says something... We have no information on Maria's family history at all.

As for schizophrenia often occurring with other mental illnesses and/or neurodivergences: Nico canonically is implied to have either ADHD and/or Autism, and is canonically stated to have PTSD. I think most people would agree that saying Nico has or has had depression isn't a stretch in the slightest.

So canonically we can all agree Nico has severe trauma and coinciding mental health issues/neurodivergences, so out of 4 possible issues I’ve first presented we guaranteeably have two. If I wanted to stretch this a little I would give myself a half point for him being born in the winter and a half point for the aspect of Hades genetics but I won’t do that.

On top of that schizophrenia usually appears during teenage and young adult years in people who receive diagnosis; most people live with mental illness for a few months or a few years in some cases before they're able to receive a diagnosis. Nico being 15 (16 by the end of ToN/shortly following the end of ToN) is about the age that schizophrenia would start to make an appearance. It's also more likely to be found in men, with men also noticing the appearance of schizophrenia appearing early in their lives, and experiencing more negative symptoms in comparison to the higher commonality of affective symptoms in women. That's a really complicated explanation to basically say there's 3 more things that would make Nico having schizophrenia make more sense.

Alright, let’s go back to the list of symptoms I provided:

Hallucinations

Delusions

Disorganized thinking

lack of motivation

slow movement

change in sleep patterns

poor grooming or hygiene

changes in body language and emotions/behavior

less interest in social activities

Once again, some of these are not solely related to schizophrenia and can be the result of other mental health issues, I’m just going to go down the list and add in some moments from the books in which Nico shows some of these traits/behaviors.

Delusions/Hallucinations (more later)

Our best chances for understanding Nico's thought process is in Blood of Olympus where he has a P.O.V... Sometimes Nico's thoughts do derail, or sometimes they get a little confusing, but not always, and when talking to others he is consistent and aware of what he's saying, as well as blunt. Anything "off" about his thought patterns to me just seems like ADHD..

Dietary changes (whether or not you think he has an eating disorder) are behavioral changes (I personally think Nico has AFRID)

Within House of Hades Nico's poor sleep patterns are constantly referenced, and I'll give him a pass on poor hygiene because he's in the middle of a quest but still..

I have extremely complicated feelings on what Will says here, it's possible Nico is an extremely unreliable narrator (unlikely, it seems many people are bothered by him and only maybe a handful aren't), I've also thought at many points this was Rick trying to backtrack some stuff with Nico because he realized he'd made his story a little too harsh for a kids book, it could also be Will's trauma kicking in and that happening... I'm not counting it as full proof about Nico disliking social interactions, but Nico does try to leave even after this conversation and isn't convinced to stay until the last chapter, so maybe there's something to be said about people's dislike of him for being a Hades kid- but I think it's fair to say Nico also dislikes people at least some because he doesn't have interest in trying to befriend anyone either, and is quick to assume all people dislike him (paranoia/low self esteem/and some other possible stuff). There's lots of discussions to be had about this quote and other similar ones, and I don't think a broad brush approach of "Nico good everyone else bad" is accurate it's more, "Nico is good but he fails to try and you have to work on your own mental health everyone won just go to you, and also people dislike Nico for silly reasons and need to get over themselves and make an effort too". (I'm extremely oversimplifying my thoughts and feelings to keep it brief.)

More on delusions and hallucinations:

Now I want to state that lots of schizophrenia symptoms share a lot of commonalities with ADHD and with depression, so although I might include some moments you think are just ADHD/depression I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with you but they could also be schizophrenia or coexisting mental health issues/divergences. I also went through the DSM-5 for schizophrenia (the DSM-5 is just this big book with lists and it’s how doctors diagnose any mental health issue/divergence), I also looked through the DSM-IV (an older book from before DSM-5 which is no longer really used) and the differences between the diagnosis was fairly minimal but they quit categorizing types of schizophrenia and instead rely more on a couple of word descriptions that seem more in line with a spectrum rather than a checkable box.

In order to receive a schizophrenia diagnosis, two (or more) of the following, each present for a significant portion of time during a 1-month period (or less if successfully treated), and at least one of these symptoms must be (1), (2), or (3):

Delusions

Hallucinations

Disorganized speech (frequent derailment or incoherence)

Grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior

Negative symptoms (i.e., diminished emotional expression or avolition).

It’s important to note that only one of these need to be checked off/true if the patient has voices which narrate their actions/behaviors/thoughts or if the person has more than one voice conversing with each other.

Nico deals with auditory hallucinations (2), he believes the voice belongs to Bob, his titan friend he left in Tartarus:

However this isn’t and immediate diagnosis because Bob’s voice doesn’t talk to another voice(s) in Nico’s head, and we don’t know if Nico has voices running commentary on his behaviors/thoughts.

The reason I state we are unaware if Nico has commentary isn’t because Nico hasn’t said anything, but because many people with schizophrenia before their diagnosis believe the narrative voices are just their thoughts and are a normal internal monologue- usually patients don’t realize anything is wrong until the voices start providing commentary on their actions so instead of “washing the dishes now” the voice(s) might say “wash the dishes now, you’re so lazy you can’t do anything, idiot” during a period of psychosis which may help them acknowledge that the voice(s) isn’t the way most people experience internal voice(s). It is very possible Nico is unaware he is experiencing narrative thoughts and simply assumes that his experience is something most people have, but I won’t use this to argue my point because it’s not confirmation of anything.

Returning now to Bob, Nico knows he is hearing Bob’s voice but he believes Bob is calling to him from Tartarus. Now, Nico says the voices are calling to him from Tartarus but there’s no confirmation of this anywhere… What I think is happening is Nico has a guilty conscience. He feels bad for “using” Bob to get out of Tartarus and various other things, so he feels bad that he is still down there. However, we don’t really know if Bob is calling to him or if Bob is able to do that- what I personally think is happening here is Nico’s brain is convincing Nico that Bob needs him because Nico is upset with himself for not helping Bob more, but also because Nico has never “sat still” before without a quest. Nico has also always felt the want to be needed/important...

It very well could be a delusion.

Schizophrenic patients often experience delusions which make them think they are destined for greatness, or that they have some divine/high force calling out to them for help that only they can provide. It’s an extremely common thing in individuals who experience delusions, and is in fact one of the most common delusions experienced. So although Bob could really be calling out to Nico, I don’t think he is, it doesn’t entirely make sense and there’s lots of little things which point to it being not entirely real- like the fact that nobody else knows about it? Or how absolutely sure Nico is that he need to return to Tartarus? It seems like a mixture of PTSD, delusions, and trauma response (returning to the trauma), working against him. I’ll say delusion is very likely (1).

Using these two factors alone there’s sufficient evidence for diagnosis, but let’s keep going just to see.

For disorganized speech (3) this isn’t something Nico seems to struggle with, and even if he did “derailing” could be ADHD or Autism, so I don’t think this symptom pertains to him.

Changes in behavior (4), seem to all be explainable via depression and/or PTSD- he has begun to express emotion again in Tower of Nero upon learning of Jason’s death he is said to be upset by Will and he walks off to be alone, seems like depression to me. Emotional/Behavior changes from schizophrenia tend to relate more to bipolar disorder rather than a depressive disorder, so I would say if Nico has schizophrenia he probably doesn’t have emotional or behavioral changes from it. If he did he might have some catatonic behavior, but this seems to be clearing up some in Tower of Nero so I’m not super sure on that, maybe during bad periods of psychosis behavioral changes occur, but I would lean more towards this isn’t a symptom Nico personally deals with. Negative symptoms (5) tie into this same idea, it’s possible it’s schizophrenia, but it’s more likely PTSD or depression at work.

So why do I care so much about the possibility of Nico being schizophrenic?

I feel like canonically/fanonically making Nico schizophrenic does a few things, firstly schizophrenic rep in media is extremely extremely awful- can you think off the top of your head of a schizophrenic character who isn't from a horror film/a murder/a villain in their own story? Maybe, but personally I can only think of one which is Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower- and even then? That's not canon, it's only implied- and it might not even be true

Schizophrenic media representation always paints schizophrenic people as bad, scary, and evil, and although the horror genre is extremely well known for being super ableist, transphobic, racist, homophobic, and misogynistic (just the final cherry on top) having one of the first- if not the first openly confirmed schizophrenic characters in children's media not only be someone who has lots of character development, and isn't a stereotype, but also be someone people have grown up with, cared for, and sympathized with- would be extremely monumental.

People with schizophrenia and other related disorders aren't something to be scared of or to think of as bad, and often times they're more bothered by whatever they're experiencing than you are.

I don't have schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder or anything like that, but I have various undiagnosed mental health issues which often lead to me questioning reality, or having to set aside time to convince myself that no there isn't a man living in my wall... Having a character have to question those things, work through those feelings, and learn to trust themselves and care for themselves even with those difficulties would be really great to see in media, not just for people with schizophrenia but also for people with similar/related disorders who might share symptoms see parts of their own struggles in a good, educative way.

I have to finish this in two parts because tumblr keeps breaking because there's too many words in my post lmao (2nd part here)

#nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #toa #percy jackson #will solace #solangelo

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trini-trin-trin · 3 years ago

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Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

#andre aciman #CMBYK Book #call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver

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deargodsno · 3 years ago

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In eleven years as an ER Nurse, I can tell you that I've learned that Republicans and Democrats actually agree that abortion should be safe, legal, and easily accessible. The real difference comes from who each party wants those rights to be available to. Democrats say they should be universal, available all American women, whereas Republicans think they should only extend to THEIR abortion. Theirs, their daughter's, their mistresses'. Those abortions are not only okay, they're laudable! And they definitely want it to be safe and available on demand.

This is something I've learned from first hand experience.

First. Hand. Experience.

Now, it used to be that to perform an abortion in the emergency department, you had to be a chemotherapy trained nurse that was not a female of child bearing age. Which, for a number of years in my emergency department, consisted of exactly one nurse- me. Our protocols have since changed because it's never good to effectively have just one person who can do a critical procedure, but it means I've repeatedly seen first hand the consequences of "back alley" abortions. What happens when a crisis pregnancy center tells a desperate woman that having an abortion will make her evil. What happens when a woman is told that ectopic pregnancies can be "moved", and that we're lying to them when we tell them that's not possible... so they attempt to pray their symptoms away. What happens when women are told they will be sinners, disowned by their family, but are offered no support or help from anyone.

That also means when I read about new laws specifically targeting healthcare providers, threatening them with insane fines or jail time for assisting with an abortion, I take that very seriously- because that'll be me. That's why they're going after us. They know we'll do the right thing by our patients, so they want to see how many healthcare providers they need to target before enough of us start to stand back, terrified of losing our jobs, bankrupting our families, or ending up in jail. Or end up quitting to avoid that; I certainly wouldn't blame anyone who didn't want to get caught in the middle of that, but our "brain drain" post-COVID is already apocalyptic as is, and if we add this to it...

We've lost decades- centuries!- of experience from providers who have said (rightfully!) "I don't get paid enough to be told I have to save the country from a government that refuses to. I can get paid to do an easier job somewhere else." That affects ANYONE who has to go to an ER. If someone you love has to seek emergency care, I'm gonna bet you'd like them to be seen by a grizzled, veteran provider, someone who has seen everything, and can pick up on the subtle signs of things going horribly wrong. That new grad nurse might be eager and dedicated, but if they don't have an experienced professional standing behind them, all the hard work in the world can be for naught.

Now add post-Roe threats. "You even think about helping a woman with an abortion; I don't care if they were raped, if it's an ectopic pregnancy, nothing. You go to jail- and we're coming for everything you own." The implications chill me to the bone.

Obstetric emergencies are... I can't even begin to explain how horrifying they are. How sick these women are. How close to death they can come, very easily. I had one that probably wouldn't have survived had she rolled through our doors a mere five minutes later, or if she hadn't been triaged by an experienced ER Nurse who knew the warning signs of what to look for in order to save her life. The last time I had to hang blood to gravity- meaning we spike a bag of uncrossmatched blood, and instead of putting it on an IV pump, just kick it wide open and let it flow into the patient as fast as it can (hopefully faster than the patient is losing it)- was for one of the incidents I alluded to above.

Women dying aren't a theoretical here. It's definitely not hysteria to mention it. Quite the opposite; I don't see how it won't happen.

And beyond abortion... the ultimate theory underpinning Roe versus Wade is that the US Constitution granted American citizens an inherent right to privacy. It's not that the US Constitution didn't allow abortion- abortion was legal in 1787 in the United States- it's that Americans have no right to privacy. If the leaked documents are accurate (and I have no doubt they are) then this is exactly the hinge Roe versus Wade is going to be struck down on. Which has incredibly horrifying implications on everything from marriage rights (gay or interracial), to contraception, and beyond.

The emergency department is the big catch all in American society. Every policy failure, every inaction by our government to protect our own people, all of it ends up in our laps. And I am literally shaking to think of what the consequences will be to those of us on the front lines of emergency services.

#abortion #protect abortion access #reproductive rights #us politics #civil rights

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ectonurites · 4 years ago

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can anybody please explain the appeal of tim drake because ive been into the batfamily for a while now and tbh im really confused on why people like his character so much compared to the other robins. like they all have their own thing going on and he just... doesnt?

Have you read his Robin solo? Because if not and you want to try to like him but just don’t understand why people do, that’s what I’d recommend. That and like, Young Justice 1998.

Because Tim definitely... does have his own thing going on. Maybe not in the same way as the others, but like, there’s a reason he has a 183 issue long solo comic that ran for like 16 years: he was fun to read about!

But I will give some more specific thoughts on the subject as a Tim Drake Appreciator™ (this got long im sorry)

The appeal of Tim (especially early on Tim) is kinda the fact that he’s this more normal kid. For a while that is his ‘thing’. He was basically designed to be a self-insert (he definitely became more than that along the way, but from the start he was meant to be relatable) in a different way than how Dick and Jason had been before him.

Like the role of Robin from the start was this way to create a character young readers could identify with more, could see themselves in more. And Dick and Jason did that, but they still had this element to their lives and stories that was more... unattainable for the average reader. Dick was a circus prodigy, Jason was either also a circus prodigy if we remember pre-crisis or if we go with his post-crisis story he’s this street-wise orphaned kid who had a really tough life but still went on to be a hero anyways. Obviously those lives are relatable for some people, but those’re definitely not as broadly recognized as common upbringings especially not by DC trying to market to the ‘average’ kid/young teen.

But the creation of Tim changed the game a bit. Dick and Jason were these aspirations a kid could look to like ‘wow I want to be cool like that!’ but Tim was a Robin designed for kids to look at and go ‘wow, his problems and civilian life are just like mine AND he’s a hero, I want to be cool like that!’, ya know? Tim was... just a clever kid with an average life who managed to connect some dots and had enough drive to want to fix things he saw were a problem, he didn’t have the same kind of heightened drama backstory the others did. The Robins that came after Tim definitely didn’t have this idea of relatability in mind the same way either. Unfortunately Steph’s time as Robin was much more of a marketing ploy than an actual like... decision to make her Robin, so it’s hard to really fit her into this conversation. But Damian from the start was first of all initially created not to be Robin but just as the son of Talia and Bruce back in the 80’s, but when he was later reimagined into the character that would become Robin he had the whole ‘raised by and is the heir to the league of assassins and is the son of batman’ thing going on still. He just was not supposed to be relatable that same way, he was a character designed with different things in mind.

I really think it was more just DC’s 90′s era younger-audience comics in general that tried to push that relatability thing (like in YJ how Cissie even after quitting the team stays a major character as a civilian throughout, and the civilian aspect that’s super present in Bart’s 90s solo too, etc), but later in the 2000’s that idea was definitely pushed to the side in favor of... putting in even more dramatic superhero-y stuff.

And the other thing that’s... such a more normal thing but it actually made him unique here, was that Tim’s dad was still alive until like 2004 (so 15 years into Tim being around as a character). This gave Tim a lot more typical ‘family school girlfriends normal life etc’ problems on top of/in contrast with his superhero problems. These just manifested in very different ways than they could with the other Robins because of that unique situation with a living civilian parent who doesn’t know about hero stuff (until he did find out which lead to that whole Unmasked thing, but there was only the brief time around War Games & Identity Crisis where Jack knew Tim was actively Robin and he was... still alive) Tim also had his life at school expanded way more than most other Robins, like, he had such an extended supporting cast of civilian friends which is a really interesting thing to read about (and the fact that he hasn’t had that stuff since the New 52 I think really hurts his character)

And then related to that loss of his dad... Personally another thing about Tim that really interests me is how a lot of things were more... his choice. if that makes sense. A lot of characters in the Batfamily were struck with tragedy/extreme trauma before they became heroes and that’s what spurred them into this life of becoming heroes. Tim’s situation wasn’t like that at all! When he first got involved in everything during Lonely Place of Dying, the only tragedy he’d experienced was watching Dick’s tragedy happen. Which sure yes traumatic obviously, but that’s not the same as how pretty much all the other Bats had gone through these very personal losses or other sorts of very first-hand personal traumas that served as motivators. Tim didn’t start to experience those things until after he got involved in the hero life, and aside from his Mom’s death which was more of just an unrelated incident (that technically happened before he was officially Robin but it was during his time training to become Robin), pretty much all these other tragedies and things... would not have happened or been experienced by him had he not become Robin.

That’s not me placing blame on him or anything like that, because god no that’s not how that works, but it’s very interesting because from his point of view he definitely feels that guilt because he knows him being Robin played a role in a lot of it (Thinking specifically about in Adventure Comics #3 when Kon even says “I know what guilt does to you” to him like it’s... it’s a thing with him!). His dad was murdered because he was Robin. He only met Steph and started dating her through being Robin, and thus he would not have experienced the loss of his girlfriend dying like that had he not been Robin. Tim met both Conner and Bart through being Robin, and would not have had a personal connection to them when they died otherwise. The whole Bruce’s death thing after Final Crisis, like. I could go on honestly, that was only talking about losses not even his own experiences nearly getting killed, but yeah, all these personal tragedies were experienced by him specifically because he chose to bring himself into this life, which I think in turn plays into how throughout his comics you see him go from having this really optimistic view on things and being really hopeful to seeing him at that low point he reaches by the time of Red Robin. (thinking about that one post that points out how Tim started out in the 90′s as an optimist and Steph a cynic and by the time they were Red Robin and Batgirl in 2009 they had switched outlooks...)

I also think that him having had such a great team book with the original Young Justice can help contribute to people liking him. His friendships with the rest of the core four and that team in general are really compelling. (and that’s something like again when looking at the other Robins, while Dick had the Titans ofc, Jason never really found footing with a team outside of like one mission with the Titans and then We All Know How Damian’s Teen Titans Stuff Went. Steph also only ever really worked with a team outside the batfam on very brief occasions) and even though I’m not as big of a fan of the 2003 Teen Titans run that came after YJ, people who read Young Justice and also that could follow and be attached to those same characters over a pretty decently long period of time.

Idk man, I don’t really have an ultimate point here i’m just rambling. I can definitely understand not seeing the appeal to him right away (honestly i’ve been into Batfam since like 2013/2014 and Tim did not become one of my faves until 2020) especially if like... idk when you say ‘into the batfamily’ that can mean a lot of different things. If you’re reading more like the bigger events with the batfam sure Tim can kinda fade into the bg a bit, if you’re more talking about fanon the fanon version of him is prettyyyyy uhhhhh not really the same as how he was in pre New 52 canon, if you’re mainly reading New 52 era Batfam stuff then that Tim I also don’t understand the appeal of bc thats Not My Boy, if you’re interested in a different member primarily and only familiar with Tim when he shows up in things focused on that other character then it’s easy to not really understand the appeal right away bc he’s more there to support that character rather than shine in his own right.

I think it’s also worth mentioning he’s just not everybody’s cup of tea, and that’s totally fine. Like, these are fictional characters and sometimes you just will vibe with a character and sometimes you won’t! idk if this helped at all or even made sense. but yeah. I just think he’s neat 😌

#Anonymous

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

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Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted.

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is.

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable.

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk.

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?”

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.”

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.”

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.”

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.”

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.”

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.”

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?”

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.”

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.”

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.”

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.”

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.”

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.”

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.”

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.”

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.”

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.”

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness.

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.”

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.”

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.”

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?”

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.”

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.”

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.”

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands.

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girlactionfigure · 3 years ago

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‘We Are All Jews Here’

U.S. Army Master Sgt. Roddie Edmonds, one of five American Righteous Among the Nations, never spoke about the 200 Jews he saved

PATRICK HENRY

As of Jan. 1, 2020, there were 27,712 persons named Righteous Among the Nations (Righteous Gentiles) by Yad Vashem, the World Holocaust Remembrance Center in Jerusalem. All of them are non-Jews who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. Five of them are American.

In 1994, Varian Fry was the first American named to the list. A New York City native and Harvard graduate with a degree in classics, Fry had volunteered with the Emergency Rescue Committee to go to France to help rescue victims of Nazism. Planning on staying for a month, he arrived in Marseille in August 1940 with $3,000 and a list of 200 Jews he hoped to save. Soon, however, he understood the enormity of his task and judged it “criminally irresponsible” to return home. He stayed until he was forcibly expelled from France 13 months later “for having protected Jews and anti-Nazis.” Fighting the Vichy regime and the U.S. State Department, which tried repeatedly to have him sent home, Fry carried a gun, arranged smugglings into Spain, obtained foreign passports and visas, hired a forger, and with a small staff saved over 2,000 refugees. Mainly interested in writers, artists, and intellectuals, this passionate anti-fascist rescued Marcel Duchamp, Marc Chagall, Jacques Lipchitz, Max Ernst, Hannah Arendt, Max Ophüls, Arthur Koestler, André Breton, and several other surrealist artists.

Martha and Waitstill Sharp were named Righteous Among the Nations in 2005. Waitstill was a minister in the Unitarian Church in Wellesley, Massachusetts, and his wife, Martha, was a noted social worker. They agreed to go to Prague in February 1939 to help members of the Unitarian Church in Czechoslovakia. Once there, they helped smuggle Jews out of the country that had been taken over by the Nazis the month after their arrival. They experienced dangerous encounters with Nazi police but managed to return safely to the United States in August. Once again, however, in late spring 1940, they returned to Europe to help rescue Jewish people from France where they worked with Varian Fry, Hiram Bingham IV, and others smuggling Jews, many of them children, into Spain and Portugal.

Lois Gunden, named “Righteous” in 2013, also rescued Jews in France. Born and raised in Goshen, Indiana, Gunden went to France in October 1941, at the age of 26, to work with the Mennonite Central Committee. Fluent in French, she headed the Ville St. Christophe Children’s Refugee Convalescent Home in Canet Plage in the south of France. It was a 20-room mansion that housed 60 children, mostly those of Spanish refugees from Franco’s Spain and Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe being held in the nearby Rivesaltes internment camp. Gunden continued to run this safe haven for refugee children even after November 1942 when the Germans occupied the entire country. She managed to hide many Jewish children in the home and save them from deportation to Drancy and then Auschwitz. In January 1943, she was detained as an “enemy alien” and transported to Germany. In March 1944, she was released in a prisoner exchange.

On Memorial Day 2021, 76 years after the liberation of Auschwitz, let’s remember the heroics of Master Sgt. Roddie Edmonds, the fifth American Righteous Gentile and the only one to have saved the lives of American Jews.

In early December 1944, the 106th Infantry Division, which comprised the 422nd, 423rd, and 424th Regiments, landed in France and traveled by truck across France and Belgium, reaching the Schnee Eifel area in Eastern Belgium near the German border. On Dec. 10, they took up their positions. On Dec. 16, the 422nd was attacked by the Germans in what would become known as the Battle of the Bulge, during which the Germans would capture 20,000 GIs. Although they were cut off and surrounded, the part of the regiment that Edmonds belonged to held out until Dec. 21 when they surrendered to the Germans. After having been forced to march 50 kilometers to Gerolstein, Germany, the men of the 422nd Regiment were loaded into box cars with no food or water and traveled for four days until they reached Bad Orb, Germany. They spent several weeks in Bad Orb, after which they were divided into three groups (officers, noncommissioned officers, and enlisted men). Roddie Edmonds’ group, the NCOs, were then shipped to Stalag IXA in Ziegenhain. There were 1,275 men in this group and Roddie Edmonds was the highest-ranking NCO among them.’

It was German policy to single out Jewish POWs and send them to extermination or slave labor camps. Accordingly, in January 1945, the Germans announced that all Jewish prisoners in Stalag IXA would report the following morning. Twenty-five-year-old Master Sgt. Edmonds, who was responsible for all the POWs in Stalag IXA, ordered all prisoners, Jews and non-Jews, to fall out. When the German officer in charge, Maj. Siegmann, saw all the prisoners lined up in front of the barracks that next morning, he said to Edmonds: “They cannot all be Jews.” Edmonds responded: “We are all Jews here.”

Siegmann then pointed a pistol to Edmonds’ head, but Edmonds, refusing to back down, replied: “According to the Geneva Convention, we only have to give our name, rank, and serial number. If you shoot me, you will have to shoot all of us, and after the war you will be tried for war crimes.” The German major turned and walked away. Edmonds had saved the lives of the roughly 200 Jewish prisoners among the 1,275 American POWs.

Edmonds, who was named “Righteous” in 2015, did not speak much about his experiences. His family only knew that he had been taken prisoner by the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge and that he had survived 100 days of captivity before returning home. His son, Baptist Rev. Chris Edmonds, mentioned that when he would ask his father about the war, he often told him only that “Some things were too difficult to talk about.” When Roddie died in 1985, his wife gave her son, Chris, two of the diaries he had kept as a POW.

Yet it was only in scouring the internet many years later that Chris discovered the exact story of his father’s heroism. In 2009, Chris’ daughter, Lauren, was given a college assignment to do a video history project about a family member. Lauren opted to work on her paternal grandfather. Chris decided to lend a hand. He googled the words “Master Sergeant Roddie Edmonds,” expecting that it would lead to Army records or the Battle of the Bulge. Instead, it led to a 2008 New York Times article about a New York City lawyer, Lester Tanner, who had sold his Manhattan townhouse to former President Richard Nixon. What could have possibly been the link between Edmonds and the sale of a townhouse to Nixon? Tanner mentioned in the article that Roddie Edmonds had saved his life and that of many other Jews during WWII.

This led Chris Edmonds to Lester Tanner and other Jewish POWs saved by his father, one of whom was Sonny Fox, the American television host and executive. These POWs and in some cases their families filled in many details completely unknown to the Edmonds family. Tanner told them that he admired Roddie for the way he led: “He never threw his rank around ... and was a man of great courage.” Tanner told Yad Vashem that they were all aware at the time that the Germans were murdering Jews. They therefore understood that the order to separate the Jews from the other POWs meant that the Jews were in great danger. “Master Sergeant Edmonds,” he said, “at the risk of his immediate death, defied the Germans with the unexpected consequence that the Jewish prisoners were saved.”

Another of the Jewish POWs saved by Edmonds, Paul Stern, explained that when the 422nd Regiment got to Bad Orb, lower-ranking Jewish POWs from another stalag were in fact sent to slave labor camps where many of them died. Stern, who had learned German in college, could understand what the Germans had in store for the POWs. He also stated that the conversation between the German commandant, Maj. Siegmann, and Roddie Edmonds was in English. “Although seventy years have passed,” Stern claimed, “I can still hear the words he said to the German camp commander.” Finally, Hank Freedman, another POW rescued by Edmonds, told Chris that his father’s faith impacted and emboldened all his men, whether they were believers or not.

On Jan. 27, 2016, in a ceremony at the Israeli Embassy in Washington, D.C., attended by then President of the United States Barack Obama, Master Sgt. Edmonds’ son accepted the Righteous medal and the certificate of honor awarded to his father. Roddie Edmonds has twice been nominated for the Congressional Gold Medal “in recognition of his heroic actions during World War II.” So far, no action has been taken. But Chris’ hope has hardly been extinguished. He wants his father to be awarded the Medal of Honor, our country’s “highest award for valor in action against an enemy force.” The Jewish Foundation for the Righteous’ short but powerful documentary on Edmonds, “Following the Footsteps of My Father,” would offer a great deal of compelling evidence.

In the JFR’s documentary, we learn that Roddie Edmonds might very well have also saved the lives of hundreds of his men by refusing to evacuate the camp where they were being held. The Germans knew the end was near and they did not want to be around when the American soldiers arrived. They told Edmonds to get ready to evacuate. Edmonds told the German officers that his men were too weak to evacuate the camp and begin a long march. The French POWs moved out along with the British POWs. The German officers told Edmonds that the camp was his: They were leaving.

Shortly thereafter, on March 30, 1945, Stalag IXA was liberated by American forces. It was the second day of Passover. As Sonny Fox remarked: “It was the day of our freedom.”

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gullethead · 3 years ago

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what is your opinion on tamsyn muir discourse (and also what is the discourse)

THANK you. okay warning for discussion of fictional sexual assault, real life CSA (not something she did), plus 2012-era homestuck fandom typical stuff

please rb this btw, unless you dont want to, in which case dont. also if you have any corrections or additional information to consider please add by all means

disclaimer: im not in the habit of writing essays defending whichever internet personalities i like. ill admit theres potential bias, given that i read the books before i learned about this, but im really being as objective as possible and i just think people are taking a misguided or half-formed stance on this. if you still dislike her or w/e after this thats, like, perfectly in your rights. im not defending an adult woman on the internet, im explaining the facts as ive seen them and understand them. additional disclaimer that i havent experienced sexual assault at all myself

okay so tamsyn muir is currently well-known as the author of the locked tomb trilogy (aka gideon the ninth and harrow the ninth), but for a certain section of tumblr shes also well known as urbanAnchorite, and used to be a big name fan on here up until around 2014 - pretty close to everything here is going to be from roughly 2011 through 2014, except for an interview im gonna get into, so 7-10 years ago. i was only vaguely aware of her until after i got into the locked tomb and saw people talking about this. with that in mind:

so the MAJORITY of the discourse revolves around a single fic she wrote on AO3. her account has 19 works in homestuck, and some of them are Kinda Weird to Pretty Bad in retrospect, but being completely honest this is the only one that isnt completely stock standard for homestuck fandom in that time period. like if we started casting stones about ten year old fandom stuff we'd be here all day

here is the fic (warning for CSA)

in most of the posts about it ive seen, theyve described it as a "rapefic," but actually reading it, it's a lot more nuanced than that description implies. its a dark story where a grown man abuses a girl, from the man's perspective, and the story ends with him being killed by her friend. the description of the assault is treated very seriously by the story and barely even touches on any actual sex, before immediately cutting to him being killed. its lolita if humbert got shot to death; the title itself comes FROM lolita

(sidenote - it was inspired by a prompt on kinkmeme, but that doesn't really mean anything vis a vis being intended for sexual enjoyment, and according to the note actually went against the spirit of the request)

ive seen fics, lots and lots of fics, that would qualify as the term "rapefic." it tends to be pretty fucking obvious when someone is using sexual assault as a fetish, and this is Not That

tamsyn herself actually responded to this in an excellent interview early last year. she gets into some Fandom Mom type language, but essentially says what i said above. in it, she also says this:

It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of being a paedophile. I grew up gay in the nineties. Homosexuality and paedophilia were enmeshed in society’s minds. When I came out, I got told that I shouldn’t be around children. I was used to that because it was common discourse, and it hurt like all hell, but it didn’t shock me. When I got called a paedophile by Twitter I got clotheslined. My support network had to get in pronto. I was very ready to have a hot date with a length of rope, a date I have arranged and cancelled multiple times over my life. I have had lots and lots of therapy over the years for various conditions, some of them lifelong and some not, but when that Twitter call-out happened it was hard to want to live. I thought I knew so intimately what I was doing with my fiction; my therapist was always so supportive of me writing about it. I have not been open about being a CSA survivor because, again, I grew up in the ‘90s. ‘Lesbian’ and ‘CSA survivor’ is just carte blanche so a whole queue of people can tell you, I HOPE ONE DAY, WITH LOVE AND SUPPORT, YOU CAN BE STRAIGHT. It was like, right this way to the invalidation booth. I didn’t even tell most of my girlfriends! I told one! It’s not a topic of discussion between me and my family; I am relying on them not reading my interviews so it can remain where it belongs: thoroughly undiscussed!

with this context it becomes... a lot more nuanced of a topic. an author who experienced CSA in addition to growing up in a cultural climate where gay people were pedophiles by default, especially growing up catholic in a rural community, wrote a work about childhood sexual assault (which also happened to be fanfiction) as a way of working through it for herself, which is... something a lot of artists do with their art? and in return she got a massive blowback on twitter accusing her of pedophilia and demanding she talk about a massively traumatic moment in her life

this is the major sticking point of the discourse, im not gonna get into anything else on this post, but this is my view of it. if you disagree or have anything to add then feel free to add on. again, i know what it looks like, but im not trying to uncritically defend a stranger just cause i like her book. this is the conclusion i came to after doing a lot of digging for myself

#the locked tomb #tamsyn muir #also by the by im not an 'anti-anti' or whatever so go fuck yourself in advance and log off. please #i think theres nuance to be had in that conversation but its not whatever the fuck that is

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eviclair · 4 years ago

Note

I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of your actual thoughts(tm) on khr, so what’s your constructive review on the series as a whole? Like some positives and negatives w/ the writing, characters, etc. If u don’t feel like answering, feel free to ignore this LOL.

tl;dr because this is 800 words of nonsense. i think you should know i would not know a constructive review if it bit me in the ass.

my guy i have not done a full read of khr in maybe two years and i know that does not sound like a long time but i have the long-term memory of a fruit fly. please bear with me. luckily for both of us i liveblogged the last time i read so i at least have my own sparknotes jdflaksjddaf

first off! khr is a satire manga!!! i cannot stress this enough, i can and will fight you to the death about this!!! “oh but it gets serious later” it grows a PLOT, thats not the same thing. khr is stupid as hell and that is both on purpose and my favorite thing about it.

i fucking love shonen man!!! its all about FIGHTING and LOVING YOUR FRIENDS and HAVING EMOTIONS and. bro im a water sign. my mars is in gemini, there is nothing i can do about this, god made me and said “get that bitch some found family and also some incredible violence” and we all just have to live with that.

khr is so much all of those things that i did not realize they were being made fun of until very long after the fact so my current opinions are very much not the ones i started with jaldkhjdfhd but man. once i clued in i both loved it so much more and became 100% incapable of interacting with fandom in any meaningful way L M A O

i just. the main conceit is that theyve weaponized the deus ex machina eleventh-hour shonen power up. the “my dead family came back to life to kill me” trope is used three separate times. the big bad student body president is a delinquent. theres an entire subset of above magic god powers thatre just

the tyl bazooka was just ripping on the Timeskip Arc until the Timeskip Arc actually happened?? like fuuta’s special thing is that he can communicate with the Meta Planet to divine Character Rankings, i dont know what to tell you!!! the truth is out there!!!

like DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER that time tsuna experienced a villain’s flashback sequence FOR HIM because i fucking do, i think about it every day,

so in the sense of “please critique the writing”, i cant do that because im pretty sure 98% of all the tropey bullshit is by design. do i wish people like the kokuyo gang got more characterization outside of being ride-or-die villain sidekicks?? of course i do but thats my own damn fault for seeing cool side characters and losing all higher brain function. on the other hand, hibari being the person he is and having absolutely no backstory or motivation beyond “get out of my school” is really fucking funny and keeps me warm at night, so. win some, lose some.

(the 2% of the writing that isnt tropey bullshit that i CAN critique is whatever is happening with kyoko. Bad Female Cast is definitely a shonen trope but its a shitty one and i want it to die. within maybe four minutes of kyoko being introduced she tries to body a man and then thats just never spoken about again?? wheres that energy queen?!!! let kyoko say fuck!!!!)

((this applies to haru too in the sense that all she really does is make moon eyes at tsuna but the way in which she does so is honestly so fucking funny and unhinged that it comes back around to being great. like yeah yep yes ma’am thats 100% bonafide Girl Who Throws Skittles In A Puddle And Calls It Potion right there please may i have another))

If khr took itself even 4% more seriously it could be really deep and compelling and i think that frustrates a lot of people, but i think i like it better this way?? half the fun for me is reading in between the lines!! the subtext, however unintentional it may be!!

examples: yamamoto is one of my favorites just because theres SO FUCKING MUCH to unpack about him!! canon gives us a lot of information about him just by virtue of the fact that he’s a Main Character, but paradoxically he himself is never really the focus. he just Does Shit and you have to figure out why on your own and i LOVE DOING THAT.

i dont love mukuro because he’s a fleshed out and nuanced villain, i love him because he says shit like “i went to hell six times” and never expounds upon that or “i can definitely trust the information i got from this magic monocle called Demon Spade’s Super Evil Murder Eye or whatever the fuck” and then expresses surprise when daemon spade is an asshole. he goes and willfully fucks up the only job anyones ever given him (impersonate 80 year old leonardo lippi) because he Just Has to shapeshift into a young hot dude and hand deliver byakuran, the boss of the Flower Family, the Family that names all its members after Flowers, a bouquet that means “i am in disguise ;) cant catch me bitch ;)”

like WHAT THE FUCK!!

i dont know man. i just like puzzles and khr is a gift that keeps giving.

(sidenote that should’ve maybe just been the subject of the post but re:i cant shut the fuck up about anything ever, i love tsuna so much. so much. his personality!! his relationships!!! his growth!!! his growth!!!!! his growth!!!!!!! khr has its claws in me because i see tsuna do something cool or brave or even deeply stupid actually and my whole heart goes AAAAAAAAA bc thats him!!! thats my son!!!!! my baby boy whom ive raised since birth!!!!!! suit me up and call me a reborn kinnie, fuck!!!!!!!!!)

#asks #also the hibari-alaude-fon sameface being explained after the fact as 'they are all secretly related'#is the funniest shit #you cant change my mind #unrelated but my khr liveblog spanned like a whole fucking year and its peak comedy #what happened. to my energy.#evi.txt

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hectabdr · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Raja IV - Chapters 13 - 15 + epilogue (Abridged)

Hi everyone, sorry for taking so long to post the last part, I had a lot of work this week.

BTW, since it's over, I put the whole novel summary on a PDF document, which you can download from here.

Previous Chapters

Chapter 13

The nurse at the mental hospital couldn't believe her eyes when Luminous came back and requested to be admitted in his old room. He asked for his usual injection and went back to his not-so-favorite video game level.

In his vision, he kept accelerating far away form the swarm of death servitors, everything went according to plan and they still had lots of time to spare. He made many excuses to Nono in an attempt to justify his incredible performance, in the radio, there was a very strange song, Luminous recognized it, the name was "Daily Growing" by the folk group Altan, it was the same song that Johann and his father heard before they ran into Odin.

Nono was confused, Luminous just seemed to know way too many things. He knew about the damaged tire, about every safe route, the reach of the Nibelungen and the presence of a small, strange building hiding in the distance. It was the Media Asia Group building, according to Finger, this is the place where Nono found Chu Tianjiao's home. If this was a Nibelungen, an exact copy of the room should be there as well, still intact.

There was nothing surprising about the small place, but that was intentional. A person like Tianjiao was probably trained against people with skills like Nono's, so there had to be a secret compartment or a hidden door. He lifted the bed and there it was!

Mr Chu managed to create an underground bunker for himself. There was a bigger, more comfortable bed, a record player with Elvis Presley's discs and leather jackets. Luminous wanted to be more like this stylish man every second he spent there.

He noticed a bunch of pictures hanging from a string. Tianjiao spend a lot of time making copies of photographs from his family, but he wasn't in them, there was another man next to his wife and his son, but he used chemicals to erase him from the images. He also wrote small phrases dedicated to his wife in the back of the photos, like:

"This is the first year since you left me, you look good"

"This is the third year, you're getting fat"

"Fifth year, I don't have time to think of you anymore"

"Sixth year. ...but I still miss you".

The rest of the walls were filled with images and documents connected by red strings. Multiple events were listed in them, including the fall of Black Swan Bay in 1991 and the Greenland incident from November 7, 2002. These events related to dragon sightings and awakenings all led to a specific incident: The resurrection of the Black king Nidhogg. Even to the other dragon overlords, Nidhogg is a god-like existence, and its words are taken as prophecies. Chu Tianjiao was the city's watchman, he came to that place with a special purpose, but he mistakenly fell in love with a young dancer. They got married and had a child, they were happy, but he knew very well that he couldn't give them a peaceful life, so he signed the divorce papers and watched her take Johann away and marry a different man. While that family went to amusement parks and movie theaters, Tianjiao stayed on his underground room thinking about the fate of mankind.

Luminous memorized as much as he could from Tianjiao's investigation and went back with Nono, he kept driving and they entered the empty city, the lights were still on and the amusement park shined like a neon show.

- I always wanted to be in a Nibelungen, but I didn't expect it to be like this.

- How did you think it would be?

- Distorted, scary, definitely not this beautiful.

They looked up and they saw Odin, standing on top of the clock tower, Nono raised a gun and pointed at him but Luminous held it down, telling her not to disturb him, they kept driving silently and the god didn't notice their presence.

Luminous took her to a shopping mall, where they entered a department store and he gave her a dry change of clothes. This was still strange to her, he already knew her size, he never stopped looking at his watch and somehow he also picked an outfit that she liked (a pair of burgundy sports trousers and a fleece hoodie).

He gave her a cup of hot coffee and he suggested they waited on an empty movie theater while they waited for help.

Nono waited uncomfortable in front of the screen, Luminous picked up a random movie from the projector room, it was Wall·E, the second film roll to be exact, so the film started from the halfway point. The movie slowly relaxed her and she started chewing popcorn while they waited.

- I've been here before, haven't I?.

This was the theater where she rescued him from a failed love confession to Wenwen, before taking him to sign his Cassell admission papers. Actually, Luminous was watching Wall·E with his fellow literature club members. All of these were deliberate choices, he only picked the second half of the movie because they didn't have enough time to watch it from the start.

- You have been here, you have experienced all the things we are experiencing now and I have lived this moment many times.

Nono was a profiler, it wasn't that easy to trick her, so he admitted the truth. At 12:00am, Nono was going to die, like every other time.

- This dream will become a reality. I have repeatedly entered this dream just to find a way to save you, but I couldn't find it.

- If you can't find a way to save me, why don't you save yourself instead?

- My senior brother said that he always regretted leaving his father here alone, that feeling of regret is so terrible, it made him want to go back and die right there.

- Don't say such disgusting things, if this is really my end I will accept it.

The answer became obvious, the only way to escape this Nibelungen was for one person to stay behind and die. As the movie reached its climax, a spear broke through the screen, Nono didn't move, Luminous didn't move.

- No, senior sister, this will not be you end, it will be mine.

Chapter 14

Luminous opened his eyes, it was still a quiet summer night, he slid a small knife that he bought at the convenience store and ripped the straitjacket open. The hospital personnel were resting in different rooms so he sneaked out with ease.

His last attempt was the 108th, none of them managed to give him the perfect ending that he desperately chased. The old man with the tricycle was waiting for him outside, Luminous got on the small bike and drove away. The security guard couldn't believe it when he saw the same tricycle pass by for a third time that night, straight into the elevated road.

Luminous reached the old Asia Group building, now flooded and filled with rubble and mud. He managed to find the secret door and found the insides half-submerged as well, but not everything was ruined, he located a small metal suitcase in the corner that was filled with multiple weapons, including a revolver, a tactical shotgun and a Uzi submachine gun.

All seemed to indicate that this equipment came directly from Cassell College, an academy that never bothered to mention Tianjiao's existence.

In his way out, he picked one of the photographs that managed to survive the flood, it portrayed a family of three. Johann was probably five years old and his expression was as emotionless as usual, his robot face wasn't the result of some traumatic event after all, it came with him from the moment he was born. In the corner, Tianjiao wrote some words as well: "Stay like this, not crying, just looking into the distance".

This arsenal was strong, but insignificant in front of a being like Odin. Ming·Z·Lu showed up to offer one last gift.

Something for nothing, 50% fusion.

Luminous was familiar with that sensation, his nerves burned and the depths of his mind seemed to be cracked open, the pain was bigger than any human can endure, but once it was over, there was a feeling of euphoria, a need to fight. His senses increased immensely, he could now distinguish every single drop in the middle of the rainfall. This usually costed him a full quarter of his life but now it was... Free?

He finally heard the distorted noises of the death servitors, it sounded like the crying of babies. The wall of water and wind that protected Odin became visible, the black figure mounted an eight legged horse. He was in the Nibelungen again, this time he didn't plan to turn around.

Luminous approached them and parked the tricycle next to the Maybach, he stood in front of Odin and the god stayed silent. The words "You are finally here" were not uttered this time, he was right, Odin was waiting for Nono, but he didn't bring her this time, Luminous's presence was meaningless to his rival.

Odin kept staring at the end of the road, waiting for Chen Motong to appear and show her face.

- This is the right way to start the game, my senior sister is not here, only you and me, only one of us can leave this place alive!

He was vey happy, he finally played the god. He slowly grabbed a spear rocket launcher from the tricycle, the little devil was as reliable as always. The servitors immediately recognized the destructive potential of the weapon and tried to disperse, but Luminous opened fire first and scattered their shadowy remains on the road.

He saw his face in a puddle, the crazy expression of Ming·Z was now his own, like every other time they fused, it felt like this was his true nature. Weapon after weapon he ran out of ammo, some servitors sneaked behind him and sliced his torso with their claws, if it wasn't for the bulletproof vest that Tianjiao left in his suitcase, Mingfei would have died already.

A shot of his last gun, a M500 revolver finally broke one of the servitor's masks. He hadn't seen one of those faces since his mission in Japan, their skin was covered in scales and their teeth were long and alien-shaped. Odin gave them black robes and masks to use them as his personal servants. Odin was definitely different to every other dragon king he had faced before, they were all savage and aggressive, but this one was stoic and dressed like a figure of mythology, unless...

That was it! Odin wasn't a dragon disguised as a mythical character, Odin, the myth himself has been a dragon all along. The secret party had misread norse mythology, now it was clear that it narrated the history of the dragon clan and it was written by the dragons themselves. Every god was in fact a dragon king, in those myths, the main antagonist of Nidhogg was Odin. This god had already foreseen the coming of the end of the world, the so-called twilight of the gods, where the world tree would wither.

The suppressed Nidhogg will rise in the air, ready for revenge, it will destroy everything and ruin the kingdom of the gods. Therefore, Odin prepared himself for this battle, ordering the Valkyrie goddesses to gather the heroes's souls and place them in the Hall of Valor to assist him in resisting the black dragon. If the norse myths are indeed dragon history, the hall of valor must represent a place filled with countless dragon cocoons and embryos waiting to be awakened.

This information, this great secret was about to be buried there with him if he didn't survive this battle. Nono was probably packing, ready to leave with Finger and go back to Cassell, for whatever reason Odin needed her, she would be out of his reach, he just needed to endure and Odin was still as invincible as ever. Making a deal with Ming·Z was inadmissible, giving the little devil enough power to materialize could bring an immeasurable catastrophe. The boy appeared in front of him.

- Brother, you finally asked to see me, do you want to... Shake my hand?

The multitude of servitors overwhelmed him, he contemplated dying there, it wouldn't be so bad, just very lonely. With a loud bang! the strongest servitor flew out and fell motionless on the mud.

A red BYD car swiftly parked next to him, a hand came out of the window and shot the three closest servitors, that was Finger, of course it was him!

- Drive faster! Why the fuck are you here?

- What do I know? I was eating dumplings with your aunt and the hospital called to tell me you were gone!

Finger placed a tracking device on Luminous just like he did with Nono and saw his trace disappearing in the highway, so he went to investigate and entered the Nibelungen by accident.

- Don't get confused by my F-Rank rating, I started as an A-rank, remember?

Flammel tasked Finger with helping Luminous to prove Johann's existence, he didn't remember the young hybrid either, but he trusted Anjou, and Anjou believed in the importance of Luminous more than anyone. Not everyone on Cassell gave up on him after all.

- Don't drive away, we can't escape!

- I thought you told me to drive faster!

- Yes I did, but I meant towards Odin!

The servitors quickly realized what they were intending to do, so they formed a barrier in front of their master. Finger pressed a button on the car and one mini-gun came out of each side of the vehicle.

- The equipment department makes phones that double as grenades, you think they can't make 007's car?

The gatling guns opened fire on the crowd of servitors, effectively cleaning the way. Finger put the car on self destruct mode and got ready to jump out, Luminous got on the roof, aiming his knife at Odin. The car hit Odin's water barrier and exploded, the shockwave soared into the sky, filled with flames. Luminous jumped and managed to pass through, and with a swift move, he pierced through Odin with the blade, just like Tianjiao attempted to do many years before.

Every servitor stopped their movements, Odin's scores started dropping down immediately and his body got split in two. There had to be something wrong with that, there's no way he would fall to his death so easily. Luminous took the god's skull and removed the mask, under it, the face of a death servitor greeted him instead, the others started crying and laughing at them. Odin's only goal is Nono, it had always been Nono, this was a trap and he was already on his way to get her.

Chapter 15

Nono was sitting next to Su Xiaoyan's bed, peeling an apple. The woman happily ate the bonbons that Nono brought for her as a gift.

- Nono, how is your mother doing?

- She's fine, she's still working and always asks me when I'll get married but I just don't tell her.

Nono had to make up that story, but at that moment she really felt like Xiaoyan's niece. She checked the woman's medical records, apparently the doctors thought she was schizophrenic and amnesiac, as long as Nono played her role well, the medical personnel would think Xiaoyan's amnesia made her forget about her relative.

Because Nono brought Bonbons, Xiaoyan recognized her immediately and happily accepted her gift.

She had been there since her son's death, she lost track of time, to the point where she felt like she had been there for three or four months, when in reality, seven years had passed. Not many people visited her in that time, her husband would take her home for a few days every now and then, but those events became less and less usual. Of course, Nono was there for a reason, without Tianjiao's apartment, her only remaining clue was Johann's mother, but the woman wasn't very open about her life. Nono's ability allowed her to put puzzles together, but Xiaojiao kept messing up the pieces.

- Did your former husband treat you well?

- He couldn't make enough money and he was very unmotivated, playing foolish all day long, I had enough of him!

- But he's handsome, and he's probably still breaking hearts.

- How do you know that he's handsome? You haven't seen him before.

- Of course I have, I remember hugging my uncle!

- Come on, do you really think I'm that broken? I know I don't have a niece.

- Then why didn't you tell the doctor?

- Because you're so pretty, and I like to chat with pretty girls, there's no one else here to chat with me, and you don't look like a bad person either.

Nono was genuinely surprised, so she declared her intentions straight on, she wanted to know more about Chu Tianjiao, but his ex-wife didn't seem to know a lot about him either, he would constantly lie about his past and alternate between multiple versions of the story.

- Sometimes he told me that he was a great spy, and that he came here to complete a task, and I believed him, without a clue of his salesman-like nature!

- And you still married him?

- He was handsome, and I was young.

Xiaoyan didn't express any regret in divorcing him, she'd rather be with someone she could rely on, but there was something else she could not explain.

- But he seems to have left something behind with me, a very important thing, I just can't remember it.

- What is it?

- I said I can't remember it, I've been thinking about it for a very long time.

- What kind of thing?

- A very important thing, I must find it, it would be very bad if I didn't.

A burst of cold wind opened the windows and made them shiver, Nono stood up and went to close them but she noticed something strange, the flowers on the outside were all withered, black petals flew through the room, she closed the window as fast as she could, something bad had happened and the air outside smelled of death.

She took out a desert eagle from her bag and stopped Xiaoyan from screaming, the woman relied on her intuition to understand that Nono wasn't going to hurt her. The place was silent and the lights flickered, the instinctive feeling of being alert that came from true isolation soon got a hold of her. She and Xiaoyan got out of the room, door after door, every doctor and every patient had disappeared.

The rain and the wind rapidly eroded the building. The day was finally here, she had never been in a Nibelungen before, she once regretted not being able to experience it, now Nibelungen came to see her. She didn't knew wether to be nervous or excited.

- Someone, someone is coming. Su Xiaoyan's voice trembled slightly.

The sound of footsteps made an echo in the building, those weren't human steps, that sounded like a few horses were coming their way. The storm, the Nibelungen, the steed, the rider, it seemed to be an ancient king who came with a strong breath of death, and the flowers in the garden withered in front of him. Nono remembered him, she saw his silhouette in the reflection of the glass when she went to Tianjiao's apartment.

The rider didn't seem to know where Xiaoyan's room was and he was checking them one by one. They ran towards the elevator, the rider was on the first floor so they needed to get to the top as fast as they could without the sound of their steps giving away their position. Behind them, the fluorescent lights went out one by one. Nono finally saw the reflection of the elevator's door in a mirror, but when its doors opened, the light of Odin's flames came out.

They ran in the other direction and soon reached the stairs, they ran down but it didn't matter, they were trapped on an endless loop. She shot at the creature but the bullets melted before touching the god's armor. They kept running and Nono kept shooting back but it wasn't buying them any more time, temperatures were rising and there was no way out.

Odin wasn't even in a hurry to reach them, Nono took Xiaoyan in her arms and ran across a hallway, enduring the terrible heat of the floor. She tried to get out through a window, but after opening the curtains she noticed that the whole world outside had changed and she was greeted by the sight of a roman pantheon.

Nono suddenly fell silent, she helped Xiaoyan to sit down on a bench and put her boots on the woman's feet. She noticed something, she was crying, she was remembering.

- There might be a way for you to get out of here by yourself, now tell me, what did Tianjiao left for you exactly?

- It's... A child. I had a son with him, his name is Johann Chu, I can't find my son... I can't find my son!

Xiaoyan was holding a pillow in her arms, the doctor said that she would put this pillow in her belly every morning and happily declare that she was pregnant. Nono took it from her hands and threw it away.

- Since you have a clear memory of him, you don't need this anymore, you will find your son, although I don't know where.

In this world, those who are not lunatics are the ones who were deceived. Luminous and Su Xiaoyan were the craziest because of their link to Johann Chu, to the truth. His mother's mental disorder was not there because she had lost a son seven years ago, a certain god wanted to modify her memory of him and she was resisting. She tied the little pillow to her back because a child is only safe in his mother's body, she sensed that someone was going to hurt her boy, so she wanted to feel like she could protect him.

Nono pushed Xiaoyan into a cubicle next to the ward and told her to keep the door closed until someone came to rescue her. She took Finger's GPS device out of her bag and broke it, expecting Luminous and Finger to arrive there after seeing her signal disappear. Odin arrived, his flames evaporated the strong currents of water and stood in front of her, Nono kept two knives on her back and a desert eagle in each hand.

- Odin!

The creature and his lance were impossible not to identify, the god actually exists.

- You are finally here.

He slowly raised Gungir and a faint white thread appeared, connecting the tip of the spear and Nono's heart. She thought his goal was Xiaoyan, due to her connection to Johann, but she was wrong, Odin's goal was her and only her. No wonder Luminous threw her down in the library, he probably had a foreboding of her death for some reason and tried to save her, his eyes showed a constant state of panic.

She didn't believe him and they put him on a psychiatric institution. She really wanted to tell him that she was sorry, because she had underestimated him.

She had always tried to be there for Luminous, she couldn't deny that she saw a lot of herself in him, this obsession with taking care of her sidekick was so prevalent because she knew how it was like to be powerless, lost and defenseless, but in the most critical moment, she had failed him.

Nono vaguely heard a song, a duet about a father and his daughter, it was coming from somewhere, along with the noise of a car engine. Luminous was coming, that song came from the radio, but how could she hear him? It didn't matter, she felt him presence and she believed it.

- Luminous! Don't you fucking dare to come here!

Nono shot every bullet she had left and they melted on Odin's presence. The lance was thrown and suddenly, the Maybach smashed through the wall, its lights illuminated Nono's eyes. She smiled, the moment she saw him, the cartridge of her gun was empty. The lance had already started its course and Luminous could only see her lips moving:

- I'm sorry

- Ming·Z·Lu! Luminous roared, time slowed down in his eyes

- The little one is here! Ming·Z smiled, Since I promised my brother that I'd try everything!

Come out! Golden saint cloth of the zodiac!, Phase shift armor!, Fierce fist! Seven-fold ring of the blazing sky!, Absolute domain AT Field!.

Every time he yelled a strange name, Luminous froze for a moment, these strange spells were taken directly from anime shows, they were weapons that lined up in front of Odin's lance, even a nuclear explosion could be rejected by them.

- What are you doing?

- I don't really know what tricks would work so I'm doing all of them!

Ming·Z kept casting spells, the speed of the lance was indeed affected but it never stopped nor it changed its trajectory.

- Hurry up brother, run!

Nono tried to yell, telling Luminous to stay away, but her mouth moved too slowly. Luminous ran past Odin and past the lance. The seven-fold ring was the strongest defense against projectiles, every time the Gungir lance pierced through a layer, it made a loud noise. Nono dropped the empty gun, she didn't have the strength to wield her knives. The spear hadn't arrived yet, and she was already like a lamb crucified on an altar.

Gungir hit the final defense, the sound was almost glass shattering.

- I couldn't stop it, even with the last layer. Give her a hug, kiss her! This is going to be your last chance! I'll buy as much time as possible for you!

Ming·Z made another barrier but the lance broke it, the little devil's hands were splashed with blood and they stained his bow tie, but he didn't care and looked at his side as an indifferent Luminous passed by and stood in front of Nono. He never managed to change the events, just the scenery. Gungir pierced through Ming·Z's chest.

- Brother, I tried my best

- It's ok, I'm here as well.

Luminous wasn't going to hug or kiss Nono, he was there to take her place. He could clearly feel his heart being cut open. The spear hadn't even touched his skin and his body had begun to carbonize and turn black, showing a rare struggle, burning it inch by inch.

- No! No! No! Nono struggled to stand up and pull the lance away from him.

- Don't come near me!

The lance tried to go through him, but it only managed to pin him against the wall. Nono shivered slightly and tears slowly ran down her face, but she didn't realize that she was crying. She always wanted him to grow up and go his own way, to use any advantage she might have over him to push him forward, but now the person who was crying on the floor was her.

- Senior sister, are you okay? It's okay.

Luminous raised his head, half of his head and body were carbonized, the cracks at the end of his lips extended all the way to the roots of his ears. He was really happy, because he finally managed to achieve his goal. He didn't want to live with the regret of losing her, he had seen Johann's own regret already.

Odin wasn't pleased, the god roared as he realized he had missed his chance. Luminous whispered:

- Ming·Z·Lu...

- Brother, I am here, you really found a method to stop the lance!

- In this world, only a monster can stop a monster, and I am the biggest monster in the world...

- Yes, you are the biggest monster in the world, brother! You are awesome! Then, are you ready to make the last deal? I can't do much against the lance, but I can take care of the monster behind it, the little devil is good at this dirty work!

Luminous stared at him and asked for two conditions:

- Kill Odin, but also take Nono back to safety.

- Alright but hurry up! That guy is almost here!

Sleipnir's eight legs made a thunderous sound, the dragon subspecies that Odin mounted carried its master into the room. Luminous raised his blood-soaked hand and gave the little devil a high-five. Ming·Z's figure suddenly appeared in the night sky, this time he stopped laughing and opened his arms. He looked like a suspended cross.

- Something for nothing, 100% fusion.

He breathed deeply, as if he wanted to inhale all of the world's air into his lungs. Sharp bone spurs protruded from his body and he was covered in black scales. Huge black wings sprung from his back and he took flight, diving down, his image poured into Luminous's body.

The carbonized skin quickly peeled off, he experienced musculoskeletal growth and deformation and the sound of a glacier cracking was heard across the hospital.

The black wings were opened and Gungir was ejected from his chest. Sleipnir couldn't move a single inch closer to them, because Luminous placed his hand on the horse's chest. Nono stared blankly at him, because she couldn't tell if the monster in front of her was a friend or an enemy, but Luminous stared back at her.

- Sister, don't be afraid, as long as I live, you'll be fine.

After two years, Chen Motong saw the devil that rescued her from the bottom of the Three Gorges Dam once again. She remembered how he held her, his childlike fear and his voice.

Don't die, don't die, don't die... Don't Die!

- So it was you...

But Luminous didn't hear those words at all, he rushed to Odin, at the flash of lightning, the monsters that had been in conflict with each other so many times, leaving countless disasters, clashed once again, and the claws and the sword stained the place red and black.

They roared, they fought, a war between kings that can only be ended by death.

Epilogue

On the elevated road, Finger stopped for a moment to catch his breath. This guy is usually slacking and his posture is erratic. The death servitors are struggling to even reach his clothes.

There should be half a marathon left before he can lose them, however, the physical strength of those things is almost unlimited.

Seeing him stop, a group of servitors suddenly became excited and the baby-like cries they made reached the heavens. A girl in a black outfit and a gauze mask appeared in front of him, a ninja.

- How did you know I was here?

- I have a radar for pretty girls... Can you handle that many servitors?

Mai Sakatoku drew two small blades.

- Those are too many, I'm specialized in assassination, not group combat. It's a pity that the other two girls are not here...

- Then I hope I can help.

He had a sword in his hand, the mirror-like Murasame suddenly turned black, the black blade light soon extended all the way to his body and the rain around it evaporated. Mai was surprised by the brutality of the sword, but Finger remained indifferent.

- What kind of sword is that?

- Murasame, have you never heard of the Dragon Slayer of Fire? Then you are really kind, but a bit ignorant, my friend!

After saying that, he jumped and cut off the elevated road.

#dragon raja #dragon raja novel #luminous #nono #ming z lu #finger von frings #johann chu

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