scribblcs

[scribblcs]

sinclairss​:

lucas’ eyes widened almost comically as he tossed a look over his shoulder, half expecting his mom to materialize out of nowhere. sue knew he smoked, of course. but she also knew that he’d driven erica to her session. and lucas wasn’t going to drive them back. he’d leave that up to his sister. “it…doesn’t surprise me, sir.” lucas always defaulted to politeness and honesty. he unwrapped one of the candies and popped it into his mouth as he stood up. he returned the handshake firmly and raised his eyebrows slightly. the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place why. “i’m lucas. sinclair?” there was a little upturn to his voice, like he wasn’t entirely convinced that was his name. 

he offered gabe a wan smile as he took his hand back and tucked both of them into his pockets, chin gesturing behind him. “i had to pee,” lucas said with a half-shrug. “but i think i’m good now.” which didn’t make a lot of sense, but it was the truth. he didn’t really need anything else. still, he studied the man with his head cocked slightly. “do i…know you or something?”

.

this kid was funny, too. not in the way erica was, but then again, maybe gabe only found him so funny because he was so different from his sister. he was beyond polite, which wasn’t really necessary, but appreciated. chuckling some more, he looked back towards the couch, “why don’t you sit and i’ll get you some water.” as responsible as he seemed, gabe didn’t know how he was planning on getting home, so he figured some cool off time wouldn’t hurt. he disappeared behind a door for a moment and returned with a glass of water that he handed to lucas. he towered over the couch, arms crossed. it might’ve even been scary if not for what he did next, “sinclair, you said?” he asked, then very poorly mimicked dribbling a basketball then shooting it into a net, “basketball player, right?” erica had told him a little bit about her “nerd twin brother.”

as if to answer his next questions, gabe admitted, “i’m erica’s counselor. maybe that’s where you’ve heard of me?” he sat down on the couch, opposite end as lucas. he folded his hands over a knee, then added, “i also hold group therapy sessions. wednesdays and saturdays. if you’re ever interested in coming.” he didn’t really know the other, but it was an open invitation to all. he wrapped up the offer with, “i know it’s been a hard summer on you kids.” then he verbally nudged lucas, “keep drinking your water.”

#interactions ( lucas )

[scribblcs]

WHO: gabe diaz & @mannydiaz​ WHAT: a lil reunion WHERE: gabe’s cherry street house!

gabe might not have proudly paraded his past around, but he certainly did carry it with him each day. vietnam, the drugs, and everything that came with them were as much part of him as his phd or being from hooppole illinois was. he was long past feeling shame for who he used to be. he had healed that part of himself with extreme empathy, trying to make amends. gabe hadn’t been so successful with his family, his siblings, really, but he understood. they didn’t owe him anything, not after he spent years lost, begging for money, and skipping out on their parents funerals. most nights he laid awake at night he thought about rosalia, armando, dolores, beatriz, and marcela. he missed them. and even though they’d turned him away on his recovery tour, he hoped they’d each appreciated the checks he sent after getting this job. gabe hoped that maybe they’d be ready to revisit the conversation now that there’d been some time between the first try and now, to reacquaint themselves with the new forty-five year old gabriel. who was still their big brother, who always would be, and wanted to be. 

tonight was like that. sometimes, gabe would throw all the windows open in his house, crawl into bed, and try to imagine that he was on the farm, back in hooppole. he’d never been the craziest about the town, and it had never been crazy about him, but there was something soothing about the frigid summer air and the insects chorusing. most nights, he would fall asleep quickly, but tonight, he was restless. bea’s birthday was in the summer, gabe was thinking about her, what she might be doing, like he often did, when he saw headlights pulling up to his home. he sprung out of bed as fast as his body would allow to peer out his bedroom window, but he couldn’t see anything too well, his vision wasn’t what it used to be. clear as day, gabe saw the vehicle pull into his driveway and he frowned. he wasn’t expecting visitors and he didn’t recognize the car. so, gabe grabbed his robe, put it on, and tied it around his waist before hurrying downstairs. 

he’d handle this diplomatically. in his robe, gabe stepped out onto his front porch, hand shielding his eyes as he tried to look over the headlights at who was behind the wheel. no dice. but eventually, the lights flicked off and a semi-familiar frame stepped out of the open door. he was older than gabe remembered, more weathered down by life, and in an instant, tears were prickling in his eyes as words, in spanish, tumbled out of his mouth, “armando? is that you?” he already had the answer though. he knew it was. gabe rushed down the steps, crushing his only brother, his baby brother into a hug. it didn’t matter why manny was here, just that he was. gabe hugged him a long time, he’d been waiting to do this for years, before he stepped back, hands planted on manny’s shoulders. gabe smiled as he told him, still in spanish, “look at you! you’re quite the man!”  he habitually ruffled manny’s hair. the most clear memories gabe had of his brother, other than the one where he was being told to scram, he was younger. early 20s. this was a new armando, but he was armando none the less. not that it mattered, but gabe was dying to know what sparked his brother to make a trip to see him, after all this time, “what are you doing here?” 

#interactions ( manny ) #tw addiction #tw novel #tw long hair gabe???

[scribblcs]

murray-baumans​:

who: Murray & @scribblcs

where: the Bauman home

Murray had spent the better part of the last hour attempting to pick out a record he thought Dr. Gabe would like. He had a pretty expansive collection, and was always able to find a reason to second guess his choice. For some reason, this choice felt major– like if he picked the wrong thing, Gabe would find an excuse to leave before dinner. Maybe it was the nerves talking. In the end, Murray settled on a Chet Baker compilation. Everybody liked jazz, right?

In preparation for the dinner, Murray had strongly suggested that Quinn find something else to do, which he felt marginally bad about. But, really, he didn’t need the added stress of his daughter listening from her room during his… not-date with the new trauma therapist in town. They hadn’t exactly broached the topic of Murray’s love life, and he couldn’t even be sure she knew he swung both ways. Of course, not much got past her, so hopefully that would be an easy conversation.

He was running only slightly behind schedule when his guest of honor knocked at the door. Murray’s heart leapt into his throat and he shut the oven, abandoning quilted oven mitts on kitchen counter as he made his way to the door. “You found me!” Murray exclaimed, bright smile in tow as he welcomed Gabe into his home, which he’d meticulously cleaned earlier in the day and even staged with some flowers from Melvald’s. His work notes and clippings were stashed in his closet, and it made the living room feel almost… homey. 

Murray led Gabe into the kitchen, where he had an assortment of wine bottles– red, white, and sparkling. “Dinner will be about ten more minutes, the asparagus is still roasting. Can I get you a glass of wine?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the counter and waiting for Gabe’s instruction. After he’d given the man a glass and topped off his own, Murray motioned for Gabe to follow him. “I’ll give you the grand tour.” Murray motioned to the back door, at the unending stretch of forest. “Huge back yard, it’ll really skyrocket the value in a few years, don’t you think?” he teased, before walking down to the main hallway. “Bathroom is the first door on the right, next to my daughter’s room. Mine is on the left,” he explained, pointing accordingly. “And then the living room and the kitchen.” Murray took him back into the living room, then returned to the kitchen. It wasn’t much by any means, but it was his. 

As the timer went off, he slipped the oven mitts back on and pulled the asparagus and focaccia bread out of the oven. It smelled heavenly, if he could say so himself. Closing the oven with his hip, Murray grabbed two plates to dish out the food: mushroom risotto, asparagus tossed in lemon, parmesan, and Italian herbs, and handmade focaccia. “Shall we?”

.

gabriel diaz was a romantic at heart. that probably made sense to anybody who had more than two conversations with him, but from afar, with his hardened and methodical exterior, it could’ve been tough to tell. in the same way he had that smidgen of depth, murray bauman held canyons worth. and gabe? well gabe couldn’t get enough. he wanted to venture all the way down to the bottom, and then some. it was one of many reasons he kept making plans with the other. he was utterly fascinated by him. whether it be going to yoga classes together, or murray coming over and cooking dinner at gabe’s house, gabe wanted to fit into the puzzle that was the life of murray bauman. however that looked. 

there was a change in plans this week with gabe going to murray’s for a meal for a change. he’d picked up flowers at the farmer’s market earlier that week as a house warming and just to show his fondness for the other. they weren’t anything special, but they were pretty, and gabe picked them because each flower in the bouquet was different. colorful and mismatched. murray would love them. he could’ve used a little more time between leaving the office and his date with murray to freshen up, but he’d apologize for his slightly disheveled appearance once he actually found murray’s place. forging through the woods didn’t scare gabe, he’d grown up on a farm, surrounded by acres of land, a lot of which contained trees. it didn’t necessarily surprise him either. someone like murray would do the unexpected and have a home tucked away in what felt like nowhere. 

it had been a long day at work. it was rewarding, but seemed every day in his office was filled with long days as of late. with all that was happening around town though? he figured it was warranted. between the explosion, then town hall, lots of patients had lots of thoughts. he wanted to give attention to all of them, even if they went over their allotted time. that being said, any of the weight he was carrying behind him from his work day lifted as what must’ve been murray’s home came into sight. gabe found himself smiling as he went up and knocked, grinning even wider when the other answered. “i did!” gabe answered, voice coming out almost like a cheer. he extended the flowers to murray and stepped into his home, eyes wide as he took it all in. 

“no, thank you.” he answered to the offer of wine, that glittering expression unwavering. “i don’t drink.” and gabe left it at that. he gladly accepted a glass of water instead. once it was filled, he followed murray for this grand tour he was rattling on about. he watched murray speak, content as ever. he didn’t comment on the home, merely basked in it’s coziness and chuckled when murray made his jokes. gabe loved the place. he did have one question though. curiously and without judgement, as they crossed into the kitchen, he asked, “your daughter?”

he was already filled with great warmth, but it somehow increased tenfold when murray popped on his oven mitts and pulled the food from the oven. if it wasn’t the delectable smell that made his insides stir, it was the sight of murray, in his element, dishing out their food. “let’s.” gabe said eagerly, rubbing his hands together as they sat. immediately, he reached across the table, grabbed murray’s hand and squeezed it, “thank you. it smells great.” they both began to dug in and gabe laughed, “wonderful. as always.” he cast murray a lingering glance, “you’re wonderful.” then, he tried his hand at a joke, “you really could do this professionally.” gabe continued to gush and compliment. speaking of professions, gabe recalled town hall and commented, “i saw you at the town hall. that was impressive too.” 

#interactions ( murray )

[scribblcs]

bluecollartaylor​:

who: Jack & Gabe

where: outside town hall!

It was obvious that Jack had bitten off more than he could chew by coming to Hawkins. He knew before he crossed the border into Nevada that this wouldn’t be easy, because of who Max was. Because they’d always been similar, and he had a tendency to be stubborn and could hold a mean grudge. But after the first night, the big blowup, things had been… evening out. He hesitated to say they were on good terms, Max was still acting like a caged animal some days, but they were getting used to each other again. The hostility was less blatant. 

When Max had mentioned a town hall meeting, Jack had to bite back a groan. Town hall meetings were never for good reasons, that much he knew, and when Max got dodgy about what was going on, Jack knew he had to attend. If only to keep an eye on things with her and this Lucas Charles Sinclair. So, he fished out the singular button-down shirt he’d packed, halfway smoothed out the wrinkles, and taken a seat in the back of the room. If he hadn’t been so goddamn shocked by the mention of an explosion that killed five people, Jack probably would’ve applauded his niece’s thinly-veiled disdain for the boys in blue. 

..

Unsurprisingly, the cops gave little to no information, and Jack could tell that everyone was just as frustrated as him. Still, he was sure Max knew something more about this– why else would she have avoided telling him about it? When the Chief ended the meeting, Jack stood up and scanned the room for his niece. The chair she’d been sitting in was vacant, and he didn’t even see her boyfriend, who easily stood a head above the crowd. Jack pushed through the crowd to get to the street, which was a dead end too. Frustrated, he locked eyes with the first person he saw: “Have you seen Max? Mayfield?” He paused, cast another cursory glance at the crowd milling around them. If he knew Max, she was long gone by now. But, maybe this stranger could help enlighten him on whatever the hell was going on. “What exactly is going on? What’s the explosion all about?” Jack asked, not thinking to clarify that he was new in town and not pulling the stranger’s leg. 

.

as a trauma therapist in a town where something traumatic happened, apparently, every two weeks, gabe felt obligated to attend town hall and get what information he could, so that he was up to date for his patients. however, when the event came to a close he was mostly left with an outstanding disappointment. he wasn’t surprised that law enforcement was bumbling around in the wake of hardship, but that was really something else. it wasn’t gabe’s business though. he got the information he needed for his own business and was ready to head home when he was stopped.

have you seen max mayfield? 

gabe shook his head, “no. not since she was drinking from a flask in my group therapy session.” he chuckled, deep and warm as he extended a hand to the other. “gabe diaz. are you max’s father?” he didn’t know much about the girl other than she should probably pay him a visit. the stranger had such a concern in his eyes gabe had only seen from family member to family member, so gabe figured he’d clarify how exactly this man fit into the picture. the more questions he asked, gabe sighed, shaking his head. the carnival had been a true tragedy and gabe was sensitive at heart. the whole thing confused him. they said eddie and billy hargrove did it, but gabe was eddie’s therapist in chicago. he didn’t see the kid doing something like this. it was a whole other quandary, he’d put it off, for now, so he could provide some insight. “there was an attack at the fourth of july carnival. a bomb, they’re saying. five people died. very tragic.” wondering how he hadn’t heard about it, gabe thoughtfully asked, “you’re new to town?” he smiled, “me too. well. kind of.” 

#interactions ( jack t )

[scribblcs]

jackforeman​:

Jack didn’t originally really want to go to his mandated therapy sessions, but now that he’d started regularly attending them at the suggestion of his sisters, he’d honestly come to enjoy them. Going to the group was eye-opening, seeing how other people were progressing alongside himself with Dr. Gabe. It’d become something he looked forward to during his week, the hour that he spent with his therapist one of the only times he really could speak his mind about everything but the thought that he was now undead and that the commune he’d been put in hadn’t actually existed in the first place.

He’d taken a seat in the chair across from Dr. Gabe like he had every week, though he wasn’t expecting for the other to dive right into what they were going to discuss, skipping the formalities entirely. “I think so?” he responded, more of a question than an answer. He wasn’t sure how he felt, really,  since so much had come to light since his group therapy session. “I thought it was helpful, so thanks for running it. There was a good turnout, I’d say. I’ve been good, I guess. Just trying to spend as much time with my sisters as I can and catch up with people since … leaving.”

.

“you know, jack, it’s okay to say no.” gabe started, and if that wasn’t clear enough, he sympathized, “what i mean by that is, you don’t have to be okay. you don’t have to think you’re okay. you don’t even have to know! what you’ve experienced is disorienting enough. i don’t expect you to be able to answer that question easily. or in a couple of words.” he leaned back in his chair, “unless you want to. i’m sure you’ve picked up on this being a casual and comfortable environment already.” gabe tried to reach patients by meeting them where they were, getting on their level. too much structure, he often found, was a bad thing. 

gabe held his hand up, “but don’t mention it. i’m glad you enjoyed it.” he dropped his hand so he could scratch down some notes about jack. possibly an optimist. close with his sisters. “they’re important to you.” he presumed, then clarified, “your sisters?” then as a follow up question, he asked something jack would probably have to think about a little harder, “so why is it you want to spend time with your loved ones? other than the obvious. what feeling is driving you to do so?”

#interactions ( jack f)

[scribblcs]

sinclairss​:

who: lucas & @scribblcs​ what: a meeting of the minds or something where: gabe’s office

he was picking erica up from therapy. or…he was supposed to be doing that. instead, lucas had smoked a joint in his car during her session, eaten an entire bag of doritos, and downed a can of new coke in record time. now he had to pee, so he did the only logical thing: he went inside. after doing his business, he’d gotten a little bit turned around. it was a big building, okay? he found himself in the waiting room of one gabe diaz, and he’d been about to duck back outside (erica would kill him if she found out he was in here), really…but there was a bowl of those caramel hard candies that always reminded lucas of his grandpa on the counter. 

he looked right, then left, and then walked up to the counter, peering over it and finding no secretary or anything. so he unwrapped one of the candies, popped it into his mouth, and promptly shoved another handful of them into his pocket. he was just about to make his great escape when he turned and almost ran right into who could only be doctor gabe himself. “oh, sorry.” he bit his lip to keep from laughing. “i was just…” lucas shrugged, like that was an answer at all. “i’ll just get out of your hair.”

.

gabe loved chicago. he thrived in the city! but at heart? he was a small town man. gabe liked knowing the name of the post man and being able to easily identify citizens when they passed him in the street. for that reason, he kept an open door policy with both his home and his practice. much safer to do things like that in place like this versus in chicago. so, when some kid began to shovel hard candies into his pocket, gabe merely had a chuckle to offer. he had just finished a session with one erica sinclair, who as hard to crack as she was, was also a real hoot. gabe couldn’t even be that frustrated. instead, he was feeling a little light. quippy even. 

when the young man slammed into him, gabe firmly gripped his shoulders and helped him stand back up. although he was amused, in a stern voice, gabe asked, “son, are you aware that you reek of marijuana?” he wasn’t going to get the kid in trouble or anything, but he did want to make sure he was all safe and set to leave on his own. he’d continue conversing, get a grasp on how high he was before making him have a seat and a glass of water. casually indicating that he wasn’t looking to get the other in trouble, he held his hand out, “i’m gabe.” then, the obvious question, “did you need something? other than candy, that is?”

#interactions ( lucas )

[scribblcs]

nilssen​:

Peter didn’t get out much. His first couple of weeks in Hawkins, he had decided to learn the town without the help of his map. He found all of the nooks that made Hawkins tick as a town, and from that point on he either stayed content in his little trailer (curse you Indiana government for sticking him in a shack!) or staying in the background, praying that none of those commune kids got up to anything crazy.

He clearly wasn’t doing a great job at that.

Something he could tick off his box was getting Gabe Diaz to town. Turns out, it didn’t take much convincing to get him to Hawkins. Something about those hippie folk always jumping at the opportunity to help others, especially when it just seemed to hit Gabe right in his little heart. The pay and decent house didn’t hurt either. Peter pulled up to Cherry Street to check in on his colleague-but-not-colleague. Walking over to Gabe’s house, it made him sorely think that he should have fought a little bit more to live somewhere that wasn’t a trailer park. “Yeah, and my knees have been fucked since ‘83,” he called out, lying through his teeth. Then, he approached the moving truck, already ready to start carrying in some boxes despite his mini protest. “This place just for you or do you got some little bastards running around?” 

.

pretty much the only person gabe knew when he moved to hawkins was peter nilssen. he was a nice enough guy, offered him the job, but it seemed he kept any trace of a personality that wasn’t gruffness under wraps. though, gabe figured, that was probably part of his job description, so he tried not to psychoanalyze the man he considered to be a friend so heavily. 

he chuckled as he followed peter in through the front door, carrying two boxes stacked on one another, “do you mean kids, peter?” gabe asked, grinning. his jaded outlook on most things was amusing to say the least. he then shook his head, “no, i don’t have any children. i have five younger siblings, i think i got my fill of kids growing up.” that was his serious answer, but again, he considered peter a friend. trustworthy enough that he could joke, “i’m also gay, so.” gabe shook his head, nothing he could do about that. he then dusted his hands off on one another and head back to the moving truck, “what about you, do you have kids? a family?” it seemed only fair that he got a question in turn. gabe huffed and heaved as he retrieved a few more boxes from the moving truck. this was going to be a long moving trip. “the department of homeland security couldn’t afford movers?” he joked, struggling for the door. gabe had to set the box down and pause, take a breather. sitting atop it, he wondered aloud, “did you get any help when they moved you out here?”

#interactions ( peter )

[scribblcs]

WHO: gabe diaz & @jackforeman​ WHAT: more gold stars for jack!! WHERE: gabe’s mental health den

most of those returned from the forest commune weren’t coming in to see them half as much as they were supposed to, but a couple of them did, and as far as gabe could see, they were making great progress. he was of the opinion, that now, in the wake of a tragedy, for which the media was attempting to pin against them whether it be through gem or the trial of billy hargrove, it was more imperative than ever that they stop into his office for a session. jack foreman had done exceptionally well in group, so much so, gabe encouraged him to stop by as soon as possible so they could start on jack’s journey to healthier living. 

he was skimming over his file when jack arrived. routinely, he stood up, met the other with a handshake and smile, then sat down and dove right in, “so jack...” he started casually, twirling his pen between his fingers. “how have you been doing since group? better i hope?” he sincerely doubted the answer would be a yes, but at least they had some semblance of a jumping off point.

#interactions ( jack )

[scribblcs]

WHO: gabe diaz & @willthewize​ WHAT: some long over due therapy for will! WHERE: gabe’s office

since the carnival, gabe had been seeing new clients left and right, neverending. most were ashamed, men begging him not to tell their wives, and wives pleading that he shouldn’t disclose this to their husbands. he got it, he really did, therapy seemed like a big, daunting, scary thing to those who hadn’t really been exposed to it before. beyond the communal grief, that made him deeply sad, and he hoped that he could give the town of hawkins, indiana, a complete one-hundred-eighty degree perspective change on the matter. gabe worked diligently, committing each and every one of his new clients to memory. it was exhausting, but hopefully, in the long run, would be worth it. 

he made each new client who walked in the door feel as special as the last, but the younger they were, the sadder he became. there’d be some serious journaling to do later. he put that idea off though, turning his attention to the kid who couldn’t have been any older than eighteen who sat down in his office. with a warm smile, he stood up from behind his desk and introduced himself, “nice to meet you, william. i’m dr.gabe diaz.” he sat back down, grabbing his ever reliable pen, then asked, “what brings you in today?”

#interactions ( will )

[scribblcs]

goldenboyrichards​:

Being raised in a white, Catholic upper middle class family left Adam physically unable to call an adult by their first name, and at the suggestion, Adam couldn’t help but shoot Dr. Gabe a look of concern. He’d be keeping the title out of respect and he hoped Dr. Gabe understood that. “Oh, um, thank you. But is Dr. Gabe okay?” Adam asked hesitantly, stuffing his hands anxiously in his pockets. He was worried they’d start shaking if he didn’t get over these nerves soon. There wasn’t even a reason to be nervous - if this didn’t go well, Adam would just leave and make some excuse if he was asked about why he wouldn’t be coming back. He could get through one hour long session. After all, Adam had done a lot more difficult stuff than sitting on a couch and talking about himself for awhile. With that in mind, he squared his shoulders a bit, ready to at least try. 

Dr. Gabe’s writing was a bit distracting - Adam couldn’t help but wonder what about his day was that interesting. Spending time with his family was normal, right? Helping his mom with his siblings had always been something Adam had done, and no one had ever questioned it before. Maybe it had made him give up hanging out with Cole or Chrissy in the past, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t reschedule. He was the oldest, and his mother had always counted on him to be the responsible one. Adam hadn’t minded that duty before. “Gardening seems cool,” He nodded, glancing around the room at the plants again. Plants always seemed to brighten a room, in Adam’s opinion. He’d loved it growing up when his mother had had fresh flowers around, especially when his dad had bought them for her. Adam had done that for Cole a few times in high school too - not because he felt like he was supposed to, but because he’d liked picking out a bouquet that he knew Cole would like. 

“Oh, um,” Adam blinked as he was questioned again, not used to someone wanting to hear from him this much. “I guess it’s pretty normal?” Adam said, crossing his legs to keep his knee from bouncing with nerves. “Most days I hang out with my mom and sisters or with Cole.” He shrugged. “He’s my best friend,” The lie rolled off his tongue with ease now from years of pretending like they were just really close friends. It never felt better though, or made Adam happy. “I run or workout some too.” An old habit from his football days that Adam had never dropped. Honestly, he didn’t really want to, though - he liked the endorphins he got from it, and it felt good having a routine like that. It provided him structure, a reason to get out of bed now that he was back. 

.

in most instances, gabe preferred to show his hand, and adam was no exception. he smiled, clearly amused with his apprehension. he didn’t think it unwarranted, or strange, but it was mildly entertaining to see him twist himself in knots over something as simple as his name. while it was endearing in a way, it was also sad. they hadn’t even dug that deep and gabe already had an inkling that adam was in for a brutal awakening once he learned words like self awareness and setting boundaries. so, sure, it was somewhat funny to watch him squirm, but more than anything, gabe knew a warm smile could do wonders, and he hoped if anything it would help adam feel at ease. “dr.gabe is fine.” he said finally, “whatever makes you most comfortable, adam.” he said it in a way where he hoped adam knew that went for anything that went down in his office. 

“gardening is the grooviest.” gabe agreed with adam, watching the wheels turn behind his eyes. he was thinking. he knew that sharing didn’t come naturally to some people, most people, actually, so he bluntly prompted adam to share with the class, “what are you thinking about?” he asked, then followed it up with, “i saw you go somewhere.” he drew a line from his own eyes, straight up to the clouds. he couldn’t be clear enough and reminded adam, “that’s not a demand or an order, just if you feel like it.” if all of his hunches about adam were correct, it would probably be very easy to pressure him into sharing information and that wouldn’t make this process effective at all. it had to come organically. 

he set his pen down, nodding as adam explained that this was his standard day. this cole being up in the ranks with adam’s mother and sisters had gabe raising a brow as he proceeded to prompt him, “oh? tell me about cole.” he picked up his pen again, curiously, but didn’t bring it to paper quite yet. when adam finished disclosing his morning routine, gabe let that hang in the air for a minute before he looked at him very seriously and asked, “so what do you do for yourself? in your day to day?” 

#interactions ( adam ) #//gabe i know what you are diaz

[scribblcs]

newbyss​:

he could only nod in agreement. pineapples were delicious. otherwise, why would bob be standing here trying to figure out how to tell if one was ripe? there were plenty of other fruits to eat, but there was just something about pineapples…and now that bob had the idea of a fruit salad including pineapple in his head, he couldn’t very well leave this farmer’s market without one! he watched the other test out his pineapple intently and mimicking the action. monkey see, monkey do. right? “this one…seems okay?” bob hummed thoughtfully before passing the one he was holding off to the other for a second opinion. 

bob’s nose wrinkled slightly. it was a complicated question. bob didn’t even really have the answer to it other than to say “i guess you could say i just moved back recently. i grew up in hawkins.” he held his hand out to shake before realizing that he’d burdened this stranger with a pineapple. he still left his arm extended awkwardly. “i’m bob newby. and you are?”

.

gabe nodded as he set his own down, and took the pineapple from the other and gave it another thoughtful squeeze. squishy, but not too squishy, that was the general rule of thumb for fruits right? he looked at it, studying it for a moment, so his pineapple testing method might seem more legitimate, he still held onto it, “i think she’s a keeper.” he flashed the other a smile, then looked over the rest of the pineapples before them, bringing his hand up to stroke his mustache, “say...” he said, clearly having mulled his words over, “maybe i’ll get one.” 

conversation about pineapple was all well and good, especially when the other was so pleasant too engage with, but this was the real meat of the conversation. he continued browsing, for the perfect pineapple with his free hand as he tried to act like he didn’t know this man’s full name, date of birth, and deepest trauma. maybe it was a little dishonest, but he’d feed into the illusion of a nice conversation, especially if it meant giving bob a sense of normalcy in the midst of everything he must be going through. that’s great, but what happens when he finds out you’re his therapist? a little voice nagged at gabe then he clicked his tongue and sighed in an effort to silence it. somewhat awkwardly, he looked to bob to explain himself, “sorry, this here one is prickly.” he chuckled, then continued on with the conversation, “seems like a good place to grow up.” he commented, following it up with a question, “did you like it?” as it donned on him he was still carrying the pineapple, he disjointedly passed it back, then shook bob’s hand like a proper gentleman ought to and introduced himself, “gabe diaz, nice to meet you.” continuing to play to fool, he picked out another pineapple and asked, “what brings you back?”

#interactions ( bob ) #//just two fellas and their pineapples #//im truly crying over this thread #//people are dying and the guys are discussing PINEAPPLES

[scribblcs]

newbyss​:

who: bob newby & @scribblcs​ what: bob gets some advice! (and not the kind you think!) where: the hawkins community farmer’s market (which definitely exists)

his hotel room only had the basics: a microwave that didn’t work very well and a mini-fridge he’d stocked with new coke. he’d been living off of diner takeout and vending machine food since he’d arrived, though, so a trip to the farmer’s market was in order. bob might not be able to cook in his current setup, but he’d definitely be able to put some fresh fruit to use!

he’d already chosen a few apples for his basket, but he’d wandered over to a selection of pineapples. he’d always liked pineapple, but bob had never really had it fresh, just out of a can. where had these even come from? pineapple definitely wasn’t native to indiana and bob had no idea how to tell if one was right or not. he plucked one from the pile and held it up, turning to the person next to him and gesturing to it. “excuse me. do you know anything about pineapples?” he chuckled softly and pulled the fruit back in towards himself. “how do you know when one’s good to eat?”

.

gabe was definitely a simple pleasures kind of guy. he liked long walks, journaling, tending to his garden, and going the farmer’s market. in chicago, there was always some kind of market to go to, but in hawkins, it seemed like this was a summer exclusive. so every chance he got, he spent hours browsing the stalls, weaving through people. he was stopped at a fruit stand when the man beside him picked up a pineapple and began speaking. 

at the question, he chuckled softly, “i know that...they’re delicious.” he said truthfully. gabe was a farmer’s son, even if they hadn’t grown pineapples on their land, he liked to think he had a pretty good grasp on what constituted as good or bad. crops were crops and gabe had a doctorate! he could figure it out! he picked one up, tossed it around in his hands, sniffed it, then squeezed it before he determined, “this ones no good, it’s not...it’s too firm.” he explained then encouraged the other to squeeze his own pineapple, “how’s yours?” gabe watched closely, like he did with most things, then asked, “say, i haven’t seen you around town before. did you move recently?” his face looked familiar, like the one from one of the more recent files peter had given him. bob newby’s file. it clicked in an instant, but that didn’t come across his facial expression. gabe continued to smile kindly, patiently waiting for an answer, and not wanting to scare the other off with greetings like hi! i’m supposed to be your therapist! 

#interactions ( bob ) #//i never thought i would care about a pineapple so much

[scribblcs]

goldenboyrichards​:

Mandated therapy to help those who’d been in the ‘forest commune’ adjust felt like a good idea in theory, but bad in practice. After all, who liked being forced to talk about their feelings? Not Adam, at least not with strangers. There was just so much that he knew by now he was supposed to keep to himself. His sexuality, for one thing. But beyond just that, Adam knew that men weren’t supposed to talk about their feelings. He had struggled with that a lot growing up considering how much he wore his heart on his sleeve, but sports had reinforced the idea a lot. Talking about emotions was reserved for Cole, Chrissy or Beth, not a stranger in a doctor’s office in downtown Hawkins. 

“Dr. Gabe?” He repeated, mentally making a note that that must be his first name. Got it. “Oh, um… I guess not?” Adam shrugged. The list of things Gabe was fine with him doing was a little overwhelming at first, but Adam appreciated it. Smoking appealed to him briefly, but he didn’t have any with him. And besides, being an athlete, it wasn’t a good habit anyway. “I think I’m okay. Thank you.” 

The room felt very comfortable, which did ease some of Adam’s concerns. It wasn’t sterile and white like the doctor’s offices he was used to, and there were plants everywhere. His eyes lingered on one near him for a minute - it wasn’t something he was familiar with, but then again, he’d never been a gardener. His mom took care of the flowers at their house. After shaking Gabe’s hand, Adam awkwardly sat down on the couch. He stuck close to the edge, ready to stand back up and make his way back to the door if things got overwhelming. “Um, my day was okay,” He started, glancing at Gabe briefly. “I ran some errands with my mom and took my little sister Cindy to the mall for a bit. Then I came here.” Adam didn’t mind helping his parents out. They were busy, and he liked spending time with Cindy. It meant getting up early, though, and Adam was still tired from spending several days sleeping at the hospital. “How was your day? Am I allowed to ask that?” Adam asked after a second, not wanting to overstep a boundary if it wasn’t okay to ask about Gabe’s life too. 

.

as adam tossed out gabe’s name like a question, he nodded, smiling encouragingly. it usually fell from people’s lips uncomfortably, like they were breaking some sort of rule by using his first name, but he was a therapist, not a teacher or a mayor. he didn’t see the purpose for formalities, he made that known by adding, “you can just call me gabe if that’s easier, too.” he already had a strong feeling that wouldn’t be the case. maybe he was jumping too many stones ahead, and gabe supposed he would figure out here shortly just who adam richards was, but at first glance, he already reminded gabe of his teenage self. he recalled the days when he did his best to be the perfect son, an upstanding citizen of his small town in illinois, to be kind, to put himself last, to follow rules and do the right thing. he’d come to shed some of it with age, but there were other traits that were immovable qualities of his personality, ones that he had learned to nurture and respect and understand. he was feeling very hopeful he could do the same for adam, but first, gabe had to take about five steps back and confirm his suspicions. like he hadn’t just gone on an entire contemplative hike mid-session, gabe nodded, “let me know if you change your mind at any time. the water isn’t going anywhere.” he assured, flashing another warm grin. 

when adam started talking about his day, gabe began furiously scratching words onto his notepad. by now, he’d mastered the art of taking notes and maintaining eye contact. so as he wrote with his pen, he simultaneously nodded at adam as he spoke. his thoughts came out onto the page, stiff. uncomfortable. family important to him? his scribbling stopped when adam asked him something. initially, he looked pleasantly surprised, but one could never be too cautious. on his paper he wrote, deflecting? then set his pen down and answered, “sure, if you want.” even if the sessions weren’t about gabe, he wanted to do what he could to ease adam this first go around, “it was pretty tame. i woke up, tended to my garden, did the crossword, ran errands, came here.” he intentionally matched adam’s tone, then flipped it back around on the other, “so if that was what you did today, is it fair to say that’s your everyday? or is your normal routine a little different?” he picked up his pen again. 

#interactions ( adam )

[scribblcs]

goldenboyrichards​:

WHO: Adam & @scribblcs

WHAT: Please talk about your feelings <333

WHERE: Dr. Gabe’s Office

Therapy wasn’t something Adam had any experience with. Neither of his parents had ever seen a therapist that he knew of, at least not while he was growing up. It just didn’t seem necessary, and even now Adam wasn’t sure it was going to be a good fit for him. As much as he was in touch with his emotions, he wasn’t used to sitting around and talking about them with anyone except Cole, Chrissy, Beth or Jack sometimes. Talking to a stranger about his life just felt weird. 

But after everything that had happened with the carnival, Adam knew he probably should visit Dr. Diaz. It had been mandated when they had all begun emerging from the forest commune, but Adam had been successfully avoiding his appointment for awhile now. But with the blackouts? Adam needed someone to help him figure out what was happening, and help him process the idea that he’d done horrifying things whether he meant to or not. 

When he entered Dr. Diaz’s office, he offered the man a tight smile, avoiding his eyes. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt opening up to him at this point, honestly. With a glance at the couch in the room, Adam frowned for a minute. “Am I supposed to lay down?” He asked, basing this entirely off of every movie he’d seen with a character laying down and baring their heart to the guy with a notepad. “Um, I’m Adam, by the way.” Adam introduced, although he was sure Dr. Diaz had already been briefed about him or something, just like Peter had been. He stuck his hand out to shake, waiting to follow Dr. Diaz’s lead. 

.

from the moment a client walked in the room, gabe was on, eyes fixed, watching, and scribbling on his notepad without tearing his gentle gaze away from whoever he was seeing. today? it was adam richards, star football player, golden boy, and recently returned from a forest commune he disappeared into three years ago. he looked antsy, which was expected from small town folk like these. where adam smiled tightly, gabe grinned back warm and open. “good afternoon.” he met him, “i’m dr.gabe, as i’m sure you were told.” he dropped his pen and folded his hands over the notepad. he chuckled softly, “do you want to lay down?” he asked adam, looking around his office. “help yourself to any spot or trinkets around here, you’re welcome to smoke if that’s your sort of thing, i have waters in the other room. don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything, okay?”

he had spent two days sprucing up the place to make it look comfortable, more like a home than an office. there were bean bags and pillows on the floor, a chair, and a large cushioned couch. scattered around the room were plants, quirky incense holders, bookshelves, and a motown record played softly from somewhere in the corner. the floor was covered up with a couple of rugs layered over one another and the blinds were low so to keep the lights from the scattered lamps soft and inviting. gabe took adam’s hand and made a mental note of just how the kid greeted him, “nice to meet you.” he smiled again, then waited for the other to sit down. when he finally looked comfortable, gabe started, “so, adam, how was your day? what did you get up to?” he’d start it off easy, like always.

#interactions ( adam )

[scribblcs]

murray-baumans​:

I dig ‘em. Something about the man, Gabe Diaz, stirred a feeling in Murray’s gut. A feeling that had been dormant for years, and one that Murray did not want to analyze at present. Still, Gabe’s comment and his toothy grin had caught Murray off guard– he was dumbfounded, at best. “I was joking about the money,” he said, finally, waving his hand as if to dismiss Gabe’s offer. “What kind of neighbor would I be if I demanded payment?” 

As they moved box after box, Murray struggled to resist interrogating the man. “Just got a job, huh? Doing what, exactly?” he asked, keeping his tone casual and light. “I’m a writer, just moved a few months ago,” Murray offered a half-truth. Some people clammed up at the mention of his real job, he was only being thoughtful. Murray almost dropped the lamp he was holding at Gabe’s correction. Forty-five? An incredulous grin overtook his face. “Fuck you and your full head of hair,” Murray joked, free hand brushing over the bald spot he could never quite forget about thanks to one Erica Sinclair. “I’ve been to the odd yoga class or two, there’s a space off of main. I can take you sometime,” he offered.

The moving process went surprisingly quickly. At least, the unloading portion of it. Murray followed Gabe’s lead, stepping carefully around boxes to get to the kitchen. “Melvald’s, definitely. There’s an organic food store on the outskirts of town, too, last I checked. And a farmer’s market on Saturdays,” Murray noted. Given the amount of plants the man had, he figured Gabe might be into the organic stuff. Worth a shot. Peering over Gabe’s shoulder into the barren fridge, Murray leaned into his intrusive nature. “You ever had Croque Madame?” 

.

gabe held his hands up in the surrender, then gently tucked the cash back in his pocket, “i think that would make a reasonable neighbor?” he answered with a low chuckle, “nobody likes moving, and i’d pay for movers.” he added, then concluded with a simple, “i don’t believe in free labor.” yes, people could do things to be nice, but at their age, exerting oneself physically usually started with weeks of soreness and ended with internal quips about how that didn’t happen when i was twenty-five. wanting to keep the offer in the air, he patted his pocket, “let me know if you change your mind when we’re done.” 

he took a break on his porch, plopping down on one the sturdier boxes to chat with murray. they only had a couple left, he could waste time. selfishly, he enjoyed the other’s company, and he wasn’t above slowing down the process if it meant keeping him around a little longer. “i’m a trauma therapist, opened shop downtown if you ever need some place to...talk. or you could just come here.” gabe, in all senses of the word, had an open door policy. “but i’ll be holding some group sessions, too, if that’s more your speed.” he wasn’t expecting murray to come at all. for some reason, most men their age, didn’t see the appeal of getting in touch with their feelings. it was utterly ridiculous, and he was firm believer of the fact that the world would be infinitely better if people stopped carrying around so much anger and pain. nobody deserved that. 

they got up and moving again and murray’s grin brought a smile to gabe’s own face as he roared with laughter and shook out his hair, “good genes?” he said, innocently, then wrapped his arm behind murray’s head to plant his hand on the bald spot. maybe that was a little forward, but he was getting too old to be subtle. “do you put sunscreen on this thing?” he asked, still smiling gently, “might be a good idea if you don’t.” he removed his hand from murray’s head and nodded at the idea of being led to yoga by murray, “it’s a date? with you and your baldspot?” he joked warmly, then carried on back into the house, calling behind him, “which i like by the way!” 

finally, they were done and in the safety of his air conditioned home. gabe pulled a pen from the pocket on his shirt and a small notepad, scribbling down all the information murray had given him while both of their heads hung low in the fridge. turning to murray, he narrowed his eyes and grinned widely, “pardon?” a what. “c’mon now, i can’t let you cook for me after you just helped me move in.” he stood up and waited for murray to do the same so he could close the fridge, then carelessly moved around the kitchen for a bowl and some box mix, “let me cover this.” 

#interactions ( murray )

[scribblcs]

eddiemcnson​:

today was … weird, to say the least. having previously ridden the high of managing to make steve all flustered and blushed when he’d stopped by family video, eddie’s modd had been dampened significantly by his run in with mayor spencer, leaving with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned the corner, made his way back to his car. maybe he should park closer to family video next. re-route his evening walks to go through the woods instead of downtown hawkins. lost in thought, he’d barely even taken notice of the figure that had started to follow him, jumping slightly, hand on his heart as he ehard someone call his name.

turning around, prepared to lock eyes with someone who was definitely not fond of seeing him around town, eddie found he was pleasantly surprised as his former therapist came into view. slowly, he lowered his hand, squinted. “…. dr. diaz ? what - what are you- “ doing here, he thought as he was interrupted by gabe’s arms puilling him into a tight hug. one that eddie eagerly returned, wide smile on his face. “yeah… well, my boss is travelling the states for the summer, gave everyone an advance and closed up shop. thought i’d stop by here, pay my uncle a visit, you know.” he shrugged, non-chalantly, as if he hadn’t described hawkins as ‘hell on earth’ to gabe during therapy sessions for the last, like, three years. “and you? what brings you to hicksville, indiana?”

.

gabe hadn’t experienced the hawkins that eddie described in their sessions, there were no angry mobs with pitchforks waiting to turn him away at the border, and so far? his experience had been nothing been welcoming. still, he believed eddie. he wouldn’t think he was a liar, not even for a second. if anything, it only made him more suspicious of the town, but gabe wouldn’t dwell on that right now. not when it was such good news to see a friendly face! he’d process later. stepping back from their hug, gab moved slowly, burying his hands in his pockets, and motioning for eddie to follow him as he leisurely stepped forward, “walk with me?” 

he listened to eddie’s explanation, nodding slowly, “this is quite the long visit.” gabe noted, curious glint in his eyes. he wouldn’t prod the other for in depth explanations, but he made it clear he was listening if eddie wanted to talk. they strolled the length of downtown hawkins, gabe taking his time to feel the sun in his skin, look in the storefronts, and most of all quietly welcome his company simply by being attentive to all the things eddie said with his words or his body language. from what gabe could clock, if eddie would be visiting him here in hawkins, it appeared there would be a lot to catch up on. “i got a job here, actually.” gabe explained, turning back around to walk the way they came. downtown hawkins wasn’t very large. “it was difficult to leave chicago.” he wasn’t one to shy away from the truth of his own feelings, “but the money was good and well, i’m old, i want to take care of my family and retire within the next ten years or so.” he smacked his lips together thoughtfully, then added, “and you know i come from hicksville, too. i don’t mind it so much, even if it’s different.” he sighed and looked around downtown. yeah, definitely different from chicago. gabe halted in the middle of the sidewalk, then looked at eddie seriously, almost like a father advising his child, “you know, i think this goes without saying, but i have an office here now. door is always open, anytime. hell, come to my house if you want. i’m sure this trip back hasn’t been as nice and easy as our walk.” 

#interactions ( eddie )

[scribblcs]

murray-baumans​:

Murray was on the cusp of giving up his border stakeouts. It had been two solid weeks of him sleeping in Joyce’s car, and he was beginning to worry that the crook in his neck was permanent. Yet, no sign of the humanoid. No sign of anything, really, other than a few keggers and lover’s quarrels. So, last night, he left the stakeout early, slept a good four hours in his own bed, and had woken up at 5:00 feeling fresh.

Since moving to Hawkins on a more permanent basis– and since finding out that that decision wasn’t entirely up to him anymore– Murray had done his due diligence to find a karate studio. The one he liked best was off of Cherry, in a more residential area. And since it had felt so nice this morning, he’d walked to class. It was early enough that none of the local kids would throw rocks at him for walking around in shorts that were probably too short for a man his age. One simply couldn’t express oneself in Hawkins like one could in Chicago.

Murray’s walk home was quickly interrupted by an unfamiliar face waving at him. Perhaps only because he had worked out some anxiety in class that morning, Murray didn’t immediately bolt. Taking a swig from his water bottle and tugging the zipper of his windbreaker closed– for his modesty–, Murray approached the man. “I’m in high demand, pal, so what’s your best offer?” he contested.

He didn’t mind helping, really– it gave him something to do that wasn’t stare at his Hawkins-mysteries-board all day, which would be a nice change of pace. Plus, he could think of this as recon… getting information on a new face in town was never a bad idea. Especially when the new face looked like this.

“Murray Bauman, of Murray’s Movers,” he joked, sticking out a hand to introduce himself. “What brings you to Hawkins?” Murray asked, picking up a box and following the other’s lead to deposit it inside. “Your back? You can’t be more than thirty-five. Should get into something Eastern– yoga, karate– it really loosens up the joints.”

.

beyond it being part of his job description to take notes, gabe was a naturally observant person, so as they man he flagged down drew closer, he mentally scribbled the length of his shorts, the color of his wind breaker, and that wild look in his eyes. undoubtedly, he was a trip, he concluded that much before they even exchanged words. that suspicion was confirmed as the man asked his best offer and gabe blew some air from his lips, rubbing his hand across his forehead as he debated just how much he could bare to part ways with, “fifty bucks?” he offered, eyes quickly flicking from the shorts, then back to his face, “i dig ‘em.” he complimented with a goofy grin.

murray. gabe gently took murray’s hand, but shook it firmly, professionally, “gabe diaz, just got a job here.” and they were off to work. gabe grabbed one box and led the way through his already open door, setting the box down in what would eventually be the living room. he didn’t have many belongings, probably around five more boxes and some pieces of furniture. this place was a mansion compared to his shoebox in chicago. he laughed as murray implied he was thirty-five “yeah? try a decade more.” he shook his head as if to dispel the weight of his age. “karate sounds strenuous.” he admitted, then added, “but i’ve heard good things about yoga, is there a place in town?” gabe sincerely doubted that, but hey, maybe murray knew something he didn’t.

they exchanged mostly meaninglessly words as they unloaded the rest of the moving truck. truthfully, gabe was so relieved to have it done, he wasn’t even going to begin thinking about unpacking yet, let alone expect murray to help him with that. instead, he invited the other in and began rifling around in his mostly barren fridge, “hey, where do you go for groceries ‘round these parts?” he popped his head out from above the refrigerator door to look at murray and kindly offered, “do you want to stay for breakfast?” what did he have for breakfast? he ducked back into the fridge, then called, “i’m making...” gabe scratched his head, then it came to him, “pancakes.”

#interactions ( murray )