#he WILL be commencing therapy talk after this

[rosenbergamot]

The Sand Permits; or, conversely, Scar and Grian are unable to communicate like normal people

“I don’t like my permits,” Scar says, something unreadable on his face. Grian adjusts his tie, then the papers on his desk., and prepares for another long Scar rant. Whatever it is he’s ranting about this time, Grian’s not sure he can tell, but based on his tone it has to be something difficult for him. “It’s annoying-- it gets in everything! Gets everywhere! I need something else.” 

There’s a loaded quality to that sentence. Grian raises his eyebrow, his hand coming to clutch his pencil as if it can help him through this moment. “What permit do you even have, Scar?”

The answer is something he should have expected from the way Scar is looking at him. The hurt in his eyes. He remembers-- and Grian knows that he remembers, and Scar knows that he knows that he remembers-- but it’s never been brought up before, never been shoved too explicitly in his face. Scar keeps it retained to small comments followed by awkward crooked grins that say nothing. 

“Oh, you know… just sand.” 

Their eyes meet. Scar holds the gaze, as if daring him to say something to him finally-- to acknowledge everything they’ve been through together that he’s only just now remembered. If only Pearl had killed him in Secret Life. Maybe then Grian could have put this off. Oh. Whatever. He’s still going to put it off. Skizz is right there after all.

He studies his nails. “Sand is a pretty good seller, y’know? You’ll have a whole monopoly on it and everything, so I can’t see why you don’t want to go through with it. I thought you liked sand.”

“Sand is useful!” Skizz chirps. 

Neither of them say anything for a second, still staring at one another. Skizz scratches at his head.

“Sand is useful,” Scar agrees easily, his voice strangely flat. “I did like sand. I do like sand. But sand hasn’t been the same ever since it came out of the desert.”

His wings puff up but he keeps his voice level. “Of course sand hasn’t been the same since it left the desert, do you even know what the sand went through in that place?”

“How could I not? I was there! I harvested the sand! I built a home with the sand!” 

The way Scar’s face wrinkles is very reminiscent of Double Life. Grian wants nothing more than to erase that face out of his mind. 

“Maybe the sand didn’t want you to harvest it.” The words are spoken from behind his teeth. His heart is picking up its pace. 

And that gets emotion out of Scar. It’s the same as it was back on Monopoly Mountain, when his eyes were red instead of green, his hands shaking with barely concealed bloodlust. “Maybe the sand shouldn’t have killed me, then!” 

“Maybe the sand shouldn’t have!” He agrees, throwing his hands into the air. Hurt flashes in Scar’s eyes-- as if Grian didn’t just agree with him and his stupid metaphor! He wraps his arm around himself. His voice gets quieter. “Maybe the sand regrets it. Maybe the sand wanted things to be different, wanted to be with you but just didn’t know how. Maybe… maybe the sand just wants things to go back to being normal again.” 

His voice betrays no emotion. He smiles at Grian. “Maybe the sand shouldn’t have broken my heart. Maybe things could be normal then.” 

The pencil in his hand snaps. 

“Scar, you…” His hand is full of snapped graphite. He drops the pencil onto his desk. Being at a loss for words is a feeling that’s foreign to him. It’s rather uncomfortable right now. 

Scar keeps his eyes on him as he tries to formulate a sentence. He gives him longer than he deserves, watching carefully, until finally his smile softens. It makes his stomach drop despite how gentle it is. 

“I’ll see you around, Grian.” He turns, cane in hand, and walks out of his makeshift door. As he leaves, he calls back, “and forget about the permit thing! I’ll figure it out myself.” 

Then he’s gone. And Grian is left to stare at where he just was and wonder what the hell went so wrong. The permit office is silent, still, the only sound and movement coming from himself-- from his shoulders as they heave with his breaths, with his attempts to hold in the tears that suddenly want to fall from his eyes. He can’t cry, though. There’s work to do.

“Um?” Oh. There’s also Skizzleman. He awkwardly shuffles his feet, still holding a file of forms that Scar hadn’t taken with him. “Was that like… was that a thing? Should I have not witnessed that? I don’t think that was about sand.” 

He laughs. It’s hollow. “No, Skizz, I don’t think it was about sand either.” 

read it on ao3 here!!

#hermitcraft #hc10 #hermitcraft 10 #desert duo #scarian #they are so dysfunctional to me #hermitfic #idk if thats a tag i just like how it looks #in which scar and grian CANNOT communicate #fanfic #rosie writing #skizzleman is standing there like What........ #he WILL be commencing therapy talk after this

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

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

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

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

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

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

This morning.

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

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

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was bombarding you so fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She questioned, “Was he angry?” 

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

“And how was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

But third period had been different. Worse. 

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

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

“Uh, yes, sir-”

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

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

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

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

And everything started crashing down when you heard it.

“Freak’s whore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hi, Chrissy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I broke up with Jason.” She interjected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only they knew. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

“-and that she wants to marry you.”

“What?!”

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

-

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

Ms. Kelly had suddenly turned into a love coach. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you say you cause most of them?”

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

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

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

“Fun?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?” Her eyebrow raised.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie was desperate to ensure your safety and security. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was going to be okay.

-

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.” Eddie relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

“Because it gets you your way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Getting okay?” He awkwardly asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the prettiest princess in the land - E.M

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little-”

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

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

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

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

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

@redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555 @gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

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

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #the yearbook: club pictures

[not-poignant]

Can you tell us a little about Constellations? Is it just going to be one long chapter like the end of the Ice Plague? Or multi-chaptered like the Gwyn+Augus epilogue after The Ice Plague? I'm so excited to read it either way!!

I sure can!

Constellations is a Gwyn + Efnisien multi-chapter epilogue (or sequel) set almost 10 years after Falling Falling Stars.

The first four chapters (which are already written) are from Gwyn's perspective, and it follows him as he decides he wants to meet with Efnisien again, speak to him, and get to know him as a person vs. as the person he knew.

I'm calling it a Gwyn + Efnisien epilogue, because it's not going to be about Augus, it's not going to be about Arden, and we're not going to be seeing them much except as supports specifically in the theme of Gwyn and Efnisien kind of learning how to become family again. In that sense, it's more of an epilogue rather than a true sequel, imho. But I think it will be at least 10 chapters long.

The only other add-on I've thought about seriously writing is a Dr Gary + Efnisien 'talking about Henton' epilogue, and I'm not ruling that out either. But if I do that, it will be a separate story.

It commences on September 10th on Patreon (in the $10+ tiers) and then will go to AO3 around two months later so it'll be freely available then. I can only release one chapter a month, similar to The Nascent Diplomat, since I have so many other active stories right now, but I couldn't wait any longer.

Things I can probably safely share now are:

Gwyn finally has a good therapist. He's aware that he can be toxic and abusive.

Augus also has been to decent therapy and has maybe realised he's done some shitty things to Efnisien in the past too

We'll find out what Efnisien's doing at university these days.

We'll find out what Efnisien's mature fashion sense is like!

They're still not perfect, but they're trying

It will have an extremely hopeful (and happy) ending

It's possible some chapters will be from Efnisien's perspective too, but right now I felt it was important to show Gwyn's thinking and how much it's changed (and how it hasn't).

There will be no BDSM scenes between Efnisien and Arden

There will be no therapy sessions between Efnisien and Dr Gary (though Efnisien might be seeing a different therapist now!)

There will be no BDSM scenes between Augus and Gwyn

It's definitely not a story focused on BDSM or sex, and more focused on a family relationship, rather than a romance relationship.

I'm really excited about it too, anon :D

#asks and answers #constellations #falling falling stars #efnisien ap wledig #gwyn ap nudd #i guess this story most of all is for the people #who always wanted to know what happened with gwyn and efnisien #and really needed gwyn to understand more about what efnisien has suffered through #i think those are the people #who will enjoy this story most

[openheartfanfics]

Newly Added Fics

Dec 9 - 15, 2023  

🎭 Angst  |  🦚 Angsty Fluff  |  🛸 AU  |  ☁ Fluff  |  ♥ NSFW  |  📚 Series  |  📷 Edit  |  📱 TextFic  |  Ⓜ Mature

Bryce x F!MC

It’s a date. - @hannabanana-6 ☁

Casey gets ready for her first official date with Bryce. [Date]

It’s over - @hannabanana-6 🎭

Casey and Bryce argue over him pushing her away.

The hangover - @hannabanana-6 ☁

Just random hangover fluff.

Thunderstorm - @chocopeppermintcake 🦚

Casey has a bad day at work. [Hurt/Comfort]

You are in love - @hannabanana-6 ☁

Bryce realises his feelings for Casey. An addition to the wedding in Open Heart book 3. [3.11]

Bryce x M!MC

Halloween - @mydemonsdrivealimo 📚

[extended: wip] A collection of moments throughout Jensen’s life, focused on his struggles and accomplishments.

Part 1

Part 2

Ethan x F!MC

Dangerous Games - @zealouscanonindeer 📚♥

[extended: wip] If you win, good. If you lose, even better.

Part 6

I gave you my heart - @coffeeheartaddict2 ♥🎄

It is Christmas time and Ethan finds himself alone for the holidays. An unexpected visit leads to a change in status. Feat. F!OC [Young Ethan]

Not a rookie anymore - @hannabanana-6 🎭

Ethan gets back from the Amazon. [Broke Up]

Paws of Love - @amortentiaopenheart 🛸

Jenner takes a liking to a stranger.

Talk is Cheap - @cariantha 🎭

What would have been the outcome if Sawyer had discovered that she was pregnant whilst Ethan was in the Amazon?

Part 1

Turning Red: A Holiday Tale - @jerzwriter ☁🎄

The usual mayhem ensues when Kaycee and her friends head out to do some holiday shopping at a local mall. She finally finds the perfect gift for Ethan. Feat. OH Gang

Under The Mistletoe - @liaromancewriter ☁🎄

Ethan Ramsey is not one to kiss anyone under the mistletoe, but he’s willing to make an exception just once.

When life has other plans - @coffeeheartaddict2 📚🛸

[extended: wip] A competition has commenced for the interns at Edenbrook hospital. A horrid first day leads to an unexpected test of a new machine but what is Dr. Ethan Ramsey hiding?

CH 4: Crime and Punishment

Jenner Ramsey

Paws of Love - @amortentiaopenheart 🛸

Jenner takes a liking to a stranger.

Platonic / OH Gang

Turning Red: A Holiday Tale - @jerzwriter ☁🎄

The usual mayhem ensues when Kaycee and her friends head out to do some holiday shopping at a local mall. She finally finds the perfect gift for Ethan. Feat. OH Gang

Rafael x F!MC

We Belong Together - @rafasgirl23415 📚

[extended: wip] It’s the end of intern year. Casey and Rafael are ready to start the next phase of their relationship.

CH 25: A Blast From The Past

CH 26: Remembrance

Tobias x F!MC

One Step… - @jerzwriter 🦚

It's a month after the chemical attack at Edenbrook; Casey leaves her apartment for therapy, and her recently reunited friend, Tobias, has been playing chauffeur.

_

SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE

#open heart #open heart fanfics #playchoices #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #rafael aveiro #rafael aveiro x mc #jackie varma #newly added fics

[morrisxn02]

c'est lâche, mon grand, on te dira c'est l'âge (self-para) (sort of)

tl;dr: therapy is now in session for your favorite (???) rich boy (said no one, ever) and succession-character-wannabe, walmart roy! and the diagnostic is absolutely scandalous !!! (not really) (this is just a lil funny thing as a follow-up to the rave and a pre-summer self-para) - this was on my drafts for waaaay too long and i just forgot to post it ic date: the week after the rave, before the commencement gala. tw: brief mention of drug use, anxiety

disclaimer: i wanted this thread to be more dialogue-centric, not a full-on para, so that's why there's very little about eddie's or dr. reichmann's thought processes here.

(...)

“It's been a while...” Dr. Helena Reichmann, Ph.D. asks as she sips on her chamomile tea.

He nods.

“You seem anxious.”

“No. I'm all right.” He immediately stops fidgeting his feet.

"You texted me at 6AM on a Sunday morning saying you needed to talk. Want to start with that?"

He remains silent for a moment.

"I thought I had done something very... Um, messed up. But I was wrong."

She says nothing. He understands, she wants him to explain.

"It's nothing really. Don't worry." His voice trembles a bit. Her brows crease. "I was on drugs."

“You mean marijuana?” She knows he is prone to using weed occasionally. But that is not what he means.

"No."

"You used heavy drugs?" The disbelief in her tone is almost funny.

“I went to a rave. I took molly for the first time.” A smoke screen.

"So you were under the influence and you thought you had done something messed up?" She mirrors his tone.

He just nods. She takes notes.

“And how did that feel? The molly.”

“I don’t know.” He lies again, not so well this time. She writes it down.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I did.”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“I’m not sure.”

She takes note.

“Let's get back to that, though. What was it you thought you had done?”

“Nothing, really. I just thought I had told someone something that I shouldn't.” He starts fidgeting again. She writes it down.

He cannot tell her about G. Too much at stake. Things even she doesn’t know.

"Well, I'm having a hard time believing you. You are clearly anxious about it..."

“Don’t you have some meditation technique that I can use, then?”

“No. And even if I did, we both know that kind of thing doesn't work for you.”

“Well, I don’t know, doesn't matter." She doesn't buy what he is selling. "Let's talk about something else.”

“Listen, the only way to help you is by understanding what happened. We won't get anywhere if you keep things from me."

He says nothing. She sighs.

“And do you have anyone you can talk to about this, at least? Someone you trust?”

“Lucas and Océane.”

“I mean at school.” Her tone is reprimanding. She knows he knows what she means.  

“No.”

“Well, you should.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Don’t you feel like you need that? That you need someone to talk to?”

“I’ve already got someone.”

“Someone that is not 3000 miles away?”

“I talk to them all the time. It’s almost like they’re here.”

“No, Edward, it’s not, and you know it.”

Silence. He stares at her, face completely blank. Devoid of any sort of expression that can help her lead their conversation down a specific path. She rolls her eyes.

“You are very challenging, do you know that?”

“Are you supposed to say that to a patient?”

“If I think that’s what they need to hear, then yes.”

“And what, exactly, makes me challenging?”

She doesn't answer, instead she pushes him, “Is Cara like this? Was Greer?”

“Is.”

“Sorry? Who is?”

“Greer. You used the wrong tense.”

“Edward…” She has been subtly trying to prepare him for the worst. For the bad news, if it ever comes to. Which, she is pretty sure, is only a matter of time.

“Is Greer like this?” He insists, voice unbending, words coming in pregnant pauses to reinforce the imposition. Treating Greer like she was dead was the one thing that would get him to storm out of her clinic.

“Are Cara and Greer like this?” She half-concedes.

“Like what?” She likes to push him. He likes to push her back.

“Resolute.” It sounds like that word has been very carefully chosen. And he picks up on it.

“You mean stubborn?” He fires back, a smirk on his face.

She nods.

“Yes.”

“The three of you?”

He nods. She writes it down.

“And have you tried getting close to Cara? Last time you were here, you told me you would.”

“Yes.”

“And-?“

“What do you think?”

“Bad?”

“Not too bad. Not good either.”

“Hm. And do you think you two can get along?”

“Don’t know… Can’t tell yet.”

“Who doesn’t know, Edward? Who can’t tell?” She heavily emphasizes the pronouns. Almost as though she were a detective pressing a fellon to reveal the name of their accomplice.

“What do you mean? Me.”

“It’s intriguing to me how sometimes you don’t see yourself as the subject of your own actions.”

“Don’t use Freud on me.”

“I’m just saying… Whenever you talk about your family, you tend to eclipse the first person. Always happens...”

“Can you change the subject, please?”

“Do you think you envy her?” She pushes further. “Cara? Do you think you wish you were more–“

“Can you change the subject, please?” He insists, more incisively this time.

“Sure.” She grins triumphantly.

Any patient in their right mind would walk straight out of there. Not Edward, though. Edward likes that she can see through him. Edward likes that she treats their sessions like a game.

“Finals are right around the corner, right?"

"Yes."

"And I assume we're only seeing each other after your summer break now, correct?"

"Mhm."

"Are you still going to Manhattan for the summer? To work with your father?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The fuck do you mean? “Why”? Because that’s what he wants me to do.”

“Watch your tone.”

“Sorry.”

“You know, you only curse in our sessions when we’re talk–“

“Don’t.” He interrupts her.

She chuckles.

“Is that what you want to do?”

He doesn’t answer. She writes it down.

“Are you excited?”

“Sure.”

“Because it’s what you have to do, right?” She mimics his way of saying it, emphasizing the word have – it’s something he has said to her a dozen times before, and it always sounds like a burden. A cross he is involuntarily caring.

“You know it.” He replies with debauchery.

She shakes her head. Then writes again.

“Tell me, what is it that you’re looking forward to doing during your summer recess?”

“I’m going to Marseille in August.”

“With–?“

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s very nice.”

They both smile. Modest, but genuine. A truce. She is truly happy to hear that. He is truly happy to say it. She likes them. They're good for him.

“Edward, our time is over for today. But before you go, I want to tell you something.”

He rolls his eyes, and the smile immediately disappears.

“You need to find a balance between taking yourself too seriously and not taking yourself seriously at all. You are only 20 years old, Edward. You’re allowed to live your life like a 20-year-old.”

His face starts to burn.

“You need to stop rationalizing your feelings. You need to let yourself have a good time every once in a while. And, most importantly, you need to think about yourself. About what you really want to do with your life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a smart kid, Edward," She knows he enjoys the adulation, and she does it almost as if she is laying the groundwork for what will follow. "You know exactly what that means. You just want me to spell it out to you.”

“I’m waiting.”

"Remember what I said about not using the first person when your family is involved? That's what I mean. It's like you're not in the driver's seat of your own life sometimes..." She fires, a grin on her face. Well, he did ask for it...

He swallows hard, fighting the urge to nod in confirmation.

“There's more important things you should be worrying about than not getting drunk with your friends every once in a while, or always being top of the class. Instead, try putting more effort into figuring out who you are, what you want, and what makes you happy. Instead of caring so much about what others expect of you, or who they want you to be.”

They stay in silence for a few more seconds. That is exactly the reaction she is hoping for.

“Goodbye, Edward. Do me the kindness of telling my next patient I'm ready for her on your way out. You have my number if you need me before September.”

“Goodbye, doctor Reichmann.”

Before he walks out, she speaks again. “And, please, enjoy your summer.”

He nods, finally. Then leaves.

#self para #this has been in my drafts for so long and i hadn't had the time to finish it #anyway

[ashplayz]

A Heart Revealed

Unspoken Feelings

Archie Hopper (once upon a time) x reader

Archie Hopper, the kind and gentle therapist of Storybrooke, found himself in a situation he never thought he would be in. He had fallen in love with one of his clients, a woman named Y/n who had come from Oz and clearly had a troubled past. As their therapy sessions commenced, Archie couldn't help but feel a deep connection with her, a connection that he knew went beyond their professional relationship, he told himself it was wrong to think of her as anything other than a client but it got to a point where these feelings were to much to ignore..

One day, after a particularly emotional session, Archie decided to take a leap of faith and express his feelings for Y/n He told her how much she meant to him and how he wanted to be there for her not just as her therapist but as someone who genuinely cared. But to his dismay, She reacted with fear and confusion. She pushed him away, unable to understand that what he was offering was love and not something to be afraid of.. Seeing as the life she grew up with didn't have love in the picture..

Archie, thought he had crossed a line, he blamed himself for the situation. Beating himself up over it. He tried to apologize, but it only made things worse. The tension between them grew, and Y/n stopped coming to her therapy sessions..

(Time skip)

When the news spread that Archie was presumed dead due to the actions of Cora and Hook, Y/n felt a surge of anger and guilt. She sought revenge against Hook, consumed by the thought of avenging Archie's death. However, when she finally confronted Hook, he saw the pain she was harboring and empathized with her. He, too, had experienced the pain of losing someone he cared about.

But once it was revealed that Archie was, in fact, alive, Lily couldn't find the courage to express her true feelings to him. Despite sharing with Hook that if she ever got that chance she wanted to do exactly that. But she was still too afraid of love. She ended up spending more time with Hook because somehow she felt as if she could trust him. He showed her what love was and how it felt. But even though they grew close, they never truly loved each other. Eventually, Hook left her to be with Emma..

(Time skip)

Some time had passed since her ordeal with Hook yet her feelings for Archie never faded.. But she was still scared. But upon receiving a talk from an old friend Zelina. She finally found the courage to reach out to Archie. She went to his office only to find it empty. Unbeknownst to her, Archie had been kidnapped by Zelena and the Evil Queen. At the time. Determined to express her feelings, Y/n left Archie a recorded message, pouring her heart out and saying everything she had always wanted to say..

Y/n:

'Hey.. Uh Archie.. I've noticed you haven't been in for a while but I just.. Really needed you to know somethings.. Stuff I'll never forgive myself if I don't say.. First of all.. I'm sorry.. I'm sorry for hurting you and for making you feel like you were in the wrong when you weren't! Truthfully.. I think I'm in love with you.. I just didn't know what love was and misperceived it as a threat.. I grew up in a place where love.. Wasn't something most people would know.. I needed someone to show me what love was or at least what it's supposed to feel like.. I remember once you congratulated me on mine and Hooks relationship, but we never loved each other.. A part of me was hoping so see some sign in you that you still.. Loved me.. But I understand if you lost those feelings.. I just thought I should tell you.. That I love you and I'm sorry.."

…

When Archie was finally freed, he entered his office and upon realizing there was a recording on the tape recorder he listened to the message, and upon doing so his heart swelling with emotion. He knew he had to see her. He arrived at her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, promising her that she would never regret loving him.

As they stood there, looking into each other's eyes, Y/n finally understood what it meant to love and be loved. And as they embraced, she knew that she would never be afraid again. Together, they would face whatever challenges life had in store for them, their love growing stronger with each passing day.

#once upon a time #archie hopper #x reader

[coffeeheartaddict2]

Times like these

Book: Open heart (between my rewrite of 2.20 and beginning of When Egos Collide)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine

Category: angsty fluff

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of addiction

Summary: Ethan seeks some comfort with Casey after a therapy session with his Mother, Louise.

Disclaimer: characters belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note 1: My submission for CFWC Please be prompt event. Prompt will appear in bold.

🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

He sat in his car, waiting for his mind to clear. After hearing his mum out as to why she left all those years ago and subsequent visits, Ethan became curious to dig deeper into parts of himself that he knew he did not get from Alan. He had always been restless, despite staying in the one city for 12 years now, he avoided serious relationships more often than not and when he did enter into them he ran, especially when things got difficult. Louise’s therapist recommended sessions together, stating that if you understood your mum better then you will understand yourself. He could tell his mum was hoping it would lead to a more open relationship but it was too early in her recovery for him to make his mind up.

Today’s session had been quite confronting. Today he examined why he had run away from things and all he knew after today’s session is that he did not deserve Casey Valentine. He spoke of how he ran away to the Amazon when he realised he could not go back to being just her attending, how he ended things when there was gossip and nearly lost her again when he encouraged her to put her career first. Louise did not know what to think of Ethan’s revelation but she realised she did the same, ran away when things got difficult.

Louise stated that she had settled down and married young and Ethan came long quite quickly. Things were good for awhile, her and Alan both worked, they were comfortable and they were happy but Louise could not help but feel restless and stuck. She started to resent everything about her life. She could never hate both Alan and Ethan but she resented them, she resented her job, so much so that she had handed in her notice before running away. She felt she needed to get out and live but she failed at that, finding solace in illicit substances and alcohol.

When asked why she did not say anything at the time she said “I did not know how to start let alone have that conversation.” At that Ethan was transported back to the night of the softball game, when he told Casey about his relationship with his Dad and how he said the exact same thing.

Ethan finally commenced the drive home. Eager to get back to Casey. She was his rock during all of this. In a way he felt bad, she had not long finished therapy herself to help her deal with the fallout from the attack. He thought back to how she had always been there, when he lost Delores, treating Naveen, Louise. He then spent the rest of the drive wondering what he did to deserve her. He pushed her away multiple times, was a complete jerk but not telling her that he was going to the Amazon and yet she remained. He felt like he was not deserving of the love, the patience, the everything that he received from Casey.

He pulled into his car park and made his way to the apartment. He knew Casey would be waiting for him. She always is after a therapy session. He makes his way to the unit and he smells something delicious as he enters the apartment. He opens the door and he is greeted with a hug. He whispers in her ear, “I love your hugs.”. They remain in an embrace until the oven timer goes off. I made some chocolate- raspberry brownies to have with our afternoon coffee. “Well they smell delicious sweetheart.”

“You look like you had an intense session Ethan. Did you want to talk about it?” Asked Casey.

“Not yet.”

They eat their brownies and drink their coffee and then they move to the couch. Ethan lies down with his head in Casey’s lap and she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Why did you stay with me through all the drama and running away?” Asked Ethan.

Casey was surprised by this question and presumed today’s therapy session brought it about.

“There were times where I was that angry with you when you were in the Amazon that I nearly did decide to not stick around but it would have been cruel to not give you an opportunity to explain your actions. Despite the ulterior motive you did help those who were in need which was a good thing in the end. Did I like it when you were gone? No. But you came back, I know you had a job but you still could have chosen to resign and get a job elsewhere while you were down there.”

“I am thankful, possibly more than you will ever know for staying with me through it all sweetheart.”

“You had your reasons, I get the being scared and where you were coming from. What is important is that you learnt, grew from the experience which you have.”

“I still do not deserve you”

“Yes you do and I love you.”

Ethan sits up and kisses Casey. “I love you too.”

They spend a bit of time in companionable silence, grateful to have the love of each other.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @genevievemd @potionsprefect @ofmischiefandmedicine @bex-la-get @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#choices fanfic writers creations #please be prompt #open heart #ethan ramsey #casey valentine #fluffy angst

[pye-mental-health]

MENTAL HEALTH SUMMARY REPORT

Timeline: 2021-2023

Challenges in my mental health during the years had impacted my growth both in a positive and negative way. I’ve seen so much change in me, I’ve conquered so many battles, and I’m willing to embrace for the newer challenges ahead of me.

Form 5 (AY2021/2022) was a year of either long ups and long downs. Simply put, there were months that I fell into a deep depression, but then I recovered from it as 2022 came.

My depressive episode was triggered by schooling & public examinations. The routine life I had to go through was overanalysed, I had a negative outlook on it due to various circumstances that led to such thinking. Firstly, my friend always complained about the school’s regulations, and compared the school to different countries’ schools. At the same time, many Hongkongers were leaving since they wanted to find more opportunities abroad. So did my friend. Given that she had a lot of negative outlooks about our school, at first I wasn’t really bothered by it, but after she left, the first stage that stems my depression was that I felt lonely, I subconsciously held onto those words she said because I couldn’t help but to agree. Our school in general restricts students of many things, like the Appearance, Confiscation of Cellphones before lessons, intense practice on Public Examination, and long hours of school. For me, it was also about the environment there. I always felt uncomfortable physically while in class, like stomachaches, lack of appetite, lethargy, and I didn’t really do a lot of things besides academics for most of the time. This in turn made me want to leave my school and leave Hong Kong for good because I couldn’t handle it anymore. I convinced my parents about such idea, but the answer was NO or the suggestion was to move back to the Philippines. In fact, I almost had the decision to return to The Philippines and study in the school my mom used to teach at, but I was faced with the rush of time and caused me to overthink a lot. I was at a crossroads. It also led to the point where I did a suicide attempt prior to the commencement of my Form 5 year.

I was lost. I had no clear decision and pathway. I did nothing much except using my phone and Ipad either watching videos & Netflix or making edits /recordings of my gameplay on Trainz Driver. I also called with my now ex-friend Jay a lot: He used to be my support network. (The reason behind our friendship ending will be discussed in a later part.) I had no energy, yet feeling anxious and guilty for not being in school. My mother used to always convince me to go back, and there are times she became really sad/angry about the fact that I couldn’t do so. On some occasions, like birthdays, I went to my friend’s birthday party and got myself drunk. I was really messed up. After all that happened, intervention came since my depression and anxiety was still severe. My parents didn’t know what kind of therapy would suit best for me, neither did I. However, they still brought me to a talk therapist. But as I went back to school, I was referred to a private psychiatrist thanks to my school principal. In early October, I was then started on antidepressant medications, sleeping medications, sedatives for anxiety and mood stabilisers. It was trial and error, so my medications would change from time to time.

My medications made my condition terrible at first. Apart from the anxiety and depression part, although I was already feeling tired, but upon taking them, I became even more tired. I also experienced unpleasant bodily sensations like heart palpitations, head buzzing, and stomach pains. So I became skeptical of my medications. I skipped them once, and I had terrible withdrawal symptoms like insomnia, restlessness, head and heart pain, and my whole body felt so buzzy. I experienced extreme paranoia about dying too. I constantly searched on the internet about my medicines’ side effects and I was shocked by the results I found.

#mental health

[the-happy-man]

“Part of why I got in a cult at all was because I had no idea how one finds a place to live in New York.”

Larry himself never seemed to get tired. He preached the benefits of prescription amphetamines and, according to multiple acquaintances, took them in such high doses he rarely needed sleep.

…

From the first time they’d heard about Larry, Claudia’s parents were suspicious of him. When they realized he was living in Slonim 9, they met with Allen Green, Sarah Lawrence’s dean of student life. Green told them he’d received other complaints about Larry but his hands were tied; a father had a right to visit his daughter on campus, he explained. A second meeting ended similarly. (Green did not respond to multiple requests for comment. Sarah Lawrence said it “had no record that Larry Ray lived on campus at any time.”)

…

Over the years, Larry would collect hundreds of pages of such confessions from the students. Many of them used almost identical language.

…

Of all Larry’s relationships with powerful people, one would prove the most significant in the years to come. In 1995, Larry met a young NYPD detective named Bernie Kerik. Kerik had recently been promoted from being Mayor Rudy Giuliani’s driver to the director of the New York City Department of Correction’s investigations division. Kerik was impressed by Larry, who exuded a macho, streetwise charisma and had valuable connections. The two became friends. A few years later, Larry served as Kerik’s best man at his wedding. For a time, Kerik would sign emails to Larry “Love, B.”

…

“Uher hates Ray for all of Ray’s lies,” one document reads. “The FBI was Larry’s biggest mark,” says one former law-enforcement official familiar with Larry’s role in the case.

…

If revenge was what Larry was after, he got it. Kerik was publicly humiliated. The city took his name off the jail; his affair with editor Judith Regan was made public; and he faced city, state, and federal investigations. Eventually, in 2009, Kerik pleaded guilty to felony tax and false-statement charges and served three years in prison.

…

The marshals pinned Larry to the ground and handcuffed him, breaking his arm.

… CHRONOLOGY OF THIS STORY? …

“In some ways, that’s the more dangerous thing; you could just lose contact altogether and have absolutely no lifeline.”

…

In front of the group, Larry ordered Daniel to wrap the contraption around his testicles and penis, then Larry began twisting it. The metal cut off circulation to his genitals and dug into his flesh.

…

Santos’s parents estimate that they gave Larry more than $200,000 over three years. They were forced to sell their house to cover the costs. They went to the NYPD three times with their story, but police told them there wasn’t much that could be done if their children were over 18. Claudia’s parents also alerted the police and were told the same thing. In 2017, the police conducted a wellness check on Claudia and determined that she was acting of her own free will. From her parents’ perspective, nothing could be further from the truth.

…

Daniel, Talia, and Isabella graduated in the spring of 2013. Santos never graduated. Claudia graduated a semester late, in the winter of 2013. Larry attended her commencement ceremony. According to Claudia’s mother, Green, the dean of students, approached her and Claudia’s father and said, “Well, I’m glad I won’t be seeing him anymore.”

…

Daniel tried talking to a psychologist, but Larry’s behavior had so closely mimicked therapy that the process felt impossible. Even the act of making friends felt unsafe. When Daniel went to parties he worried he wouldn’t be allowed to leave.

…

If you prefer to read in print, you can also find this article in the April 29, 2019, issue of New York Magazine.

…

posted in Comments by dandan000:

Part 1 of 2

Sarah Lawrence College

Office of the President

May 9, 2019

Dear Members of the Sarah Lawrence Community,

Many of you may have seen media accounts regarding a group of former students and their alleged interactions with the parent of one of those students. My heart goes out to those, SLC alumni and otherwise, whose lives may have been impacted by this parent—indeed, I hope that the spotlight now shined on them does not contribute to further distress. Though I have been, and remain, deeply troubled by these accounts, I have thus far refrained from commenting to our community, both out of respect for the privacy and well-being of the former students involved and also because of the real limits imposed by federal law on the College’s ability to discuss current and former student education records. However, certain uninformed, inaccurate, and highly irresponsible media reports and commentary compel me to share with you what I can about the facts of this matter as they relate to the College.

First and foremost, the College did not knowingly allow this parent to inhabit his daughter’s dormitory apartment, as claimed in media reports. The College has conducted a thorough search of its records across many offices as well as interviewed current and former staff responsible for the safety and well-being of students who were at SLC at the time of the events alleged to have occurred on our campus. On the basis of that review, we have found no evidence to support the claim that this parent lived on the campus during the 2010-11 academic year, nor that college employees who were responsible for our students’ safety ignored such reports or any College policy impacting student health and safety in this regard.

Part 2 of 2 Continued:

I also am profoundly troubled by the demonstrably false claim that one of our long-serving campus leaders resigned as a result of these alleged events. This administrator first approached me in the summer of 2018 to share his plans to retire at the end of the 2018-19 academic year—his 20th year of dedicated service to a college he loves, and where he has steadfastly supported thousands of students. We announced his decision to retire last fall, for no reason other than to allow time to plan the search for his successor. Just before winter break, he suffered a terrible fall and has been on medical leave this spring as he recovers. I should not have to disclose personal information such as this to combat acts of irresponsible character assassination, but do so with his permission to quell uninformed media speculation as to why he is not now on campus.

I understand that these recent media allegations may have left you with many questions. With that in mind, I want to reaffirm above all that student health, safety, and well-being continue to be overarching priorities of the College. We regularly review our staffing, our policies, and our support systems in these critical areas, and will continue to do so proactively.

I thank you for your continued support and confidence in SLC.

Yours,

Cristle Collins Judd

President

…

posted by situationlefty in Comments:

In college, we weren't even allowed to have pets in the dorm. Somebody's dad sleeping for entire school years there? Where were the SLC administrators?

The malleability of these cocooned, protected, wealthy kids is very sad. I don't know what's worse - the sociopathic con man, or the privileged and completely vulnerable college students.

#where is my mind #nyc housing #sarah lawrence college #cult #vob #adderall

[duhnova]

every lie you type - johnny suh or jeong jaehyun

⤷ synopsis. y/n is a first year psychology student who is a helpless romantic, johnny is a second year photography student who has a messed up view on love after a toxic relationship and nasty breakup with his ex. when the two meet they instantly click and their future together is looking bright until someone from the past comes back and tears them apart. now everything is messed up and johnny has to work to fix his mistakes before it becomes to late.

» paring. y/n x johnny , jaehyun x y/n

» genre. semi slow burn, angst, heartbreak, fluff, semi nsfw, comfort, college au, smau.

» warnings. drinking, smoking, sexual/suggestive themes, themes of anxiety and self consciousness, reckless behavior, toxic relationship, mentions of cheating/active cheating, ANGST & HEARTBREAK, therapy session, mentions of abuse and manipulation, mention of a parents death, etc.

» note. even though this is “reader insert” i am treating it as more of an oc that you get to name ( because i suck at names ) - pronouns for y/n are going to be she/her.

» note 2. JAEHYUN IS ENDGAME!!

#every lie you type — random update info / q&a

#every typo you type — behind the scenes // bonus’ // extras

01. extras

02. Jaehyun’s Past

03. playlists

04. hospital scene ( this accompanies chapter 51 !! )

05. johnnys reaction(s)

* tag list closed!! *

masterlist;

main profiles

y/n’s group

johnny’s group

01. spilled coffee

02. a date?

03. second date

04. time to follow y/n

05. new friendships?

06. insert jaehyun

07. the interview

08. arcade time

09. a little mischief

10. park hangout

11. do you want to get high?

12. high time shenanigans

13. don’t leave me please

14. leave her in the past

15. late night facetimes

16. the baddest bitch

17. let’s get ready to partyyy

18. let the prank wars commence

19. johnny what’re you doing?

20. who’s rica?

21. new job who dis?

22. did you really johnny?

23. trash panda

24. making moves

24. clearing my head

25. i guess it didn’t go as well

26. fresh ink

27. the squad is back

28. birthday present?

29. he’s lying

30. welcome to the shit show

31. planning y/n’s birthday

32. the plan

33. the end of the prank war

34. you’re pretty

35. one bad day after another

36. funeral

37. pity party

38. we need to talk

39. motorcycle gang

40. i have to put me first

41. making people jealous?

42. what is this feeling?

43. game night without jaehyun

44. lovely arguments

45. mirror pics

46. are you doing this on purpose?

47. getting under each others skin

48. definitely on purpose

49. therapy

50. fuck bro code

51. jealousy, jealousy

52. the silent treatment

53. i’m sorry

54. morning coffee

55. light headed

56. date!

57. don’t know what to wear

58. soon to be girlfriend

59. confession

60. it was about time

Epilogue

finished

#nct 127 #nct #nct jhonny #johnny #johnny suh #johnny x reader #nct smau #social media au #nct au #nct imagines #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #k-pop

[where-is-francis]

What if you became Spider-Man instead of Peter? (Headcanons)

Request: No

Pronouns: Neutral, but more male-leaning (just because you’re still Spider-Man / female aligned readers DNI)

Prompt: What if you had become Spider-Man instead of Peter?

A/N: This popped in my head and I thought it would make for a good headcanon. I might make this into a series at some point??? Who knows ;)

TW: Mentions of you getting hurt/mentions of bruising, mentions of you witnessing Ben’s death.

• Nobody in a million years could’ve predicted that this would happen to you

• But I guess when life gives you… a bite from a mutated spider?

• You and Peter met in middle school

• You had a few classes together, but never really talked much until you were paired for a group project

• You were glad, because him and Ned seemed to understand science a lot more than you

• You invited them to your place to work, and you three immediately hit it off

• Since you and the Parkers were in the same apartment building, you saw a lot of each other

• Your parents became quick friends with Ben and May

• The summer before high school was probably the most memorable

• Unfortunately, for all of the wrong reasons

• You gained odd powers shortly after being bit by a spider

• At first, you thought nothing of the bite

• Just minor swelling and irritation

• Shortly after it went away, however, things got really weird

• Your vision cleared up, you got INSANELY strong, and eventually started sticking to things

• But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have regrets about those first few months

• Thoughts constantly weaved themselves around your brain until you felt like you were suffocating

• ‘I was right there, I could’ve saved Ben but I didn’t’

• ‘What’s the point of having these powers if I can’t do anything with them that would make a difference?’

• After some recovery and therapy sessions, you made your mind up

• You were going to be a hero, like the rest of The Avengers

• Things got off to a clumsy start, but soon you developed a routine

• After school, you’d get home and do homework

• Once that was done, you’d tell your family (if they were home) that you were taking a nap

• Door: locked

• Window: propped open

• Thus commenced your patrolling

• Nothing very big happened at first, but it slowly started to pick up after a few months

• Which ended with you having your ass handed to you by a group of basic thieves as they tried to rob a small music store

• Your parents were out, so you didn’t worry too much about walking around in your suit (gifted by Tony Stark)

• However, Peter knew all too well when you were home

• A common occurrence, he used the spare key to enter your apartment

• “Hey, did I leave my soldering pen here? Ned and I have a project—”

• You stood in the kitchen with your suit on, holding an ice pack to your black eye

• The brunette quickly shut the door, running to you and checking you over

• “What happened? Why are you hurt, what are you wearing—?”

• Everything you repressed for the past few months came flooding back, everything all at once

• You told him, through tears, what happened

• The spider bite, watching Ben die, trying to be a hero

• “—and tonight I got my ass kicked. And you know what? They still got away. I didn’t do shit, Pete. I tried so hard.”

• It took him a bit to process, and for you to calm down, but eventually it sank in

• His best friend that he knew since middle school had superpowers

• Not only that, you were a hero

• It pained him to look since one was now swollen and bruised, but the glow in your eyes was the same he’s known since day one

• That single, forceful drive and strong moral compass to match

• For a while, you didn’t say anything to each other

• He just continued to help patch you up, using some of your sister’s makeup to mask a bit of discoloration

• If he didn’t notice before, he definitely noticed then just how toned you’d gotten

• “I think I know how to help,”

• “How? Wrap me in bubble wrap and call it a day?” You gestured to your arms and chest.

• “No… I’ll help. But only on one condition.”

• He didn’t receive an answer, just a pained glance in his direction.

• “I’ll figure out a way to help you train. But only if you go to homecoming with me.”

• All of the blood in your body seemed to warm up immediately, rushing to your cheeks in the form of a pink tinge

• “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

#x male reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x gn reader #peter parker x neutral reader #peter parker x m reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x reader

[illnessfaker]

You can recognize this rhetoric by its strange focus on the “damage” transition can do to specific body parts, such as breasts, uteri, and ovaries. It can be seen in action, for example, in the work of Irreversible Damage author Abigail Shrier (who testified against trans rights before Congress last month) when she worries over “healthy breasts” and casts trans male bodies as “maimed and sterile” in a November op-ed for Quillette. Many conservative anti-trans campaigners use language that echoes or copies Shrier’s, describing surgeries they deplore and anatomy they wish to save in detailed and troublingly lascivious tones focused on the bodies of teens. While it’s not unheard of for activists to bring up damage to trans women’s bodies, with a special focus on trans women’s genitalia, the vast majority of concern trolling about fertility and fitness for child raising is aimed at trans men, whom activists infantilize by referring to them as “daughters” or “young girls.”

The insincerity of fertility fearmongering is clear when you consider, first, that the risks of standard treatments like hormone replacement to trans men’s fertility have likely been overstated, and in any case, that transgender people are well-aware that some treatments may affect fertility. Informed consent protocols require doctors to talk the risks through with trans patients even in the least restrictive model of transition care. As a result of this process, some trans men opt for chest surgery but delay testosterone therapy several years in order to be sure they won’t harm their own ability to carry a child to term. Those who have the means to do so may access methods of preserving their eggs before commencing treatment that may reduce their fertility. Some of us have no interest in raising our own children but satisfy the urge to pass something on to the next generation through foster care or adoption. In other words, we weigh the options and make careful decisions that reflect our individual, adult needs.

We need more research on how different transition treatments shape reproductive health; more information—such as the recent evidence suggesting trans men retain their eggs and are able to become pregnant at similar rates to cis women after stopping testosterone therapy—will enable even more informed choices. However, the fact that some treatments will have an impact on trans people’s fertility does not mean these treatments should be banned, any more than the same procedures are banned for cisgender people who need them. All medical care is based on a careful weighing of risks vs. rewards. Evidence-based care describes the process of formally weighing these and determining the best available course of action to help patients at the current time. Transgender medicine is evidence-based care. That’s why every mainstream medical organization supports transition for patients who suffer from gender dysphoria.

By contrast, fertility fearmongering is the opposite of evidence-based. It stems from sexist ideas about the proper role of women and the purpose of female bodies: to bear children and to raise those children in the home. This reductive view of women as incubators, milk machines, and day care providers is now being visited upon trans men just as it’s been visited on cis women since time immemorial. It makes no difference if a trans man doesn’t want to bear children—conservatives believe he’ll thank them someday, when he’s realized that all he wants in life is to be a mother after all.

Of course, many trans men do choose to undertake pregnancy as men, and there are many steps that could be taken to make the process easier, kinder, and less expensive for them. However, the only people who should have any say about trans men’s fertility are trans men ourselves. The fertility fearmongers may claim they want to protect people, but by making the focus of that protection specific body parts and capacities, rather than a trans person as a whole, they betray their true goal: imposing heteronormativity and conformity, rather than allowing for healthy flourishing across a range of life experiences.

#transphobia #healthcare #transmasculine #trans men #transmasculinity

[kodzukyan]

the long way home (to you)

notes: happy belated birthday, rissa! cheers to our tokrev momster, the baby of group therapy, and the light of my life!! words can’t describe how much joy you bring to my life, and i’m thankful every day for you. thank you for putting up with all the dumb shit i say on the daily HAHA. i love you so much. 🥺💖 @seishue (also thank you to annette and ilayda for putting up with me as i overthink every thing HAHA 🥺) 

summary: the concept of home redefined through the years. - kokonui

wc: 1.6k

Home is an abstract concept, but it’s something Koko has always been able to define.

At eight, it was sitting in Seishu’s room and the sound of pencils scribbling on summer homework as the air conditioner hummed through the silence. At eight, it was the sound of his laughter as Seishu pouts about summer homework. At eight, it was Akane with her golden hair and sky-blue eyes as she brings in barley tea and snack cakes. At eight, it was the warmth that blooms in his chest as his heart thunders excitedly and recklessly at the sight of Akane’s pretty smiles and playful teasing.

At eight, it was the sound of fire crackling and tearing through the home he knew.

(All he sees is the painted reds and oranges of fire, burning, burning, burning through home as he knows it.

He runs into the fire anyway because he promised. He will save her, save love as he knows it. As if he’s running on autopilot, he just bulldozes through the building of burning wood and flaming memories because he purely has one end goal. He runs, runs, runs, and finally sees her, sees the promise he vowed to protect.

He doesn’t think because all he cares about is Akane, his promise, and he grabs her and runs. He sighs in relief as they make it. As he breathes in the fresh air, he sees light blue eyes staring right back at him, too light to be paired with the soft smile that flutters his heart, and he feels like he can’t breathe. He stares vacantly at Seishu, and as pain reflects back from his blue eyes, Koko hates himself for feeling upset that he saved his best friend instead of his sister.

His eyes drift from downcast eyes to the blazing building, and his heart stops. He’s breathing, but his body is frozen and his mind is dazed. The forbidding feeling in his chest swells into a looming shadow, and he feels crushed as it devours him whole.)

At eight, home burns. All he’s left with is Seishu’s hand clutching his as they stand in a white room. The love of his life laid still, and the steady beep of the heart monitor drowns out their cries.

-----

At fifteen, home was found through crimes and bonds built through money and blood. At fifteen, it was wistful thinking and forcing the image of Akane onto his best friend, hoping, praying that she will still smile at him all the same. But she doesn’t because all he recognizes is Seishu and his steady eyes as he looks forward. In contrast, Koko feels increasingly aware that he was the only one running in circles with no destination.

Seishu has constantly seen him, always looked at him as him. And despite conventional belief, while he still detects traces of Akane, he sees Seishu too. He cherishes him too, in a different way than how he loved Akane, in a way that reminds him that love is steady.

He loves Seishu in a way that he will always, always choose him. Like the consistent beat of his heart, love flows softly, tenderly, subtly. Unlike the blazing flutters of his heart he felt with Akane, it's more like the stars that twinkle night after night. With Seishu, he doesn’t have to be the Koko who exclusively knows how to break things and make money. With Seishu, he can completely just be Koko. A gentle lull, rest stop, a stronghold against the world where he doesn’t have to run, where he can finally sleep.

Seishu deserves better, though. He deserves someone who isn’t chasing after the image of a dead girl while being half in love with him. He deserves someone who isn’t running in circles, both mentally and emotionally. He deserves someone who loves him fully instead of his half-baked feelings that grow and surface with every moment, but he refuses to acknowledge.

(Because if he does, what will he have left? Who is he without money and his feelings for the one who commenced it all?

He’s a little more lost than found, so he just keeps on running, running, running in hopes to discover some answers, to finally reach somewhere he can just be.

(He doesn't know how to stop.)

Somehow, he thinks Seishu knows all along anyway with the way he still squeezes his hand and looks at him like he’s still worth it. He still enables him to lean in and tuck himself in between the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of home.)

But home, Koko thinks, becomes a little more undefined when they part ways. Because he can no longer protect Seishu, who keeps on going and facing forwards while he’s still stuck on a repeated loop. Because he knows he’s gripping Seishu back from growing and becoming someone who can take on the world.

(Because he loves him.)

So, he lets go of home and wonders since when did it become so cold without Seishu’s hand holding his.

-----

At eighteen, he is completely lost. The sight of Akane’s smiling is long gone and the warmth of Seishu’s hand in his has gone cold. The looming shadow that has been following him is always ready to overtake him, but he fights on anyway because he has to see it through.

(See what through? He doesn’t know exactly.)

Ironically, it has incessantly been the bleakest moments when Seishu appears beside him. He’s still running loops on repeat, but he thinks an alternative path opens up when Seishu extends his hand out. He wants to take it, wants to altogether stop running because he’s so tired.

“Koko.” Seishu prompts as he holds his hand out, “I’ll give you half of my burdens, so give me half of yours too.”

He grasps Seishu’s hand, and Seishu pulls him up. Koko leans into the crook of Seishu’s neck like he did before, and as if all the years of exhaustion finally caught up to him, he cries. He cries for the loss of Akane, cries for the loss of what could have been, cries for the loss of home.

Seishu just stands still and supports him tightly in his arms as he breaks.

“I’m with you.”

He used to think he was the one who supported Seishu, but he thinks he’s been proven time and time again that it’s the opposite way around.

“We don’t talk about this,” Koko sniffles as he leans into Seishu’s hold.

“Okay,” Seishu promises and places a tender kiss on his temple.

Koko has never believed in God. God wasn’t there when he needed him; God still isn’t here when he needs him. But as their bodies press together, limbs tangled and eyes locked, he wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

("Koko," Seishu starts. A conversation that has been lingering in the back of his mind; a conversation that has to be said. He pauses, wandering eyes hesitant to confront black ones before he inhales sharply. "I’m not Akane."

Koko's teasing smile fades, intense eyes meeting crystalline blue ones that are slightly lighter than the girl he loved once. He used to imagine the boy in front of him as his sister, the one he swore he would protect, but he can’t even fathom the thought now. He can see her traces, but he thinks he never desires it to be her anymore. He just wants his best friend, his comfort, his home, him. "I know."

His callous hands reach for Seishu’s burn scar, caressing it gently before he trails down and brushes Seishu’s soft cheek. He cradles it for a moment before he presses his forehead against Seishu’s, softly, fondly. He’s earnest as his eyes staring straight into blue ones, a vulnerability in his gaze. A realization, a truth, something he’s long figured out but didn’t want to admit because he didn’t want to let go of all that he knew.

But he notes the man in front of him now, feels the warmth of his cheek and the softness in his glance, and Koko finally smiles and feels like it’s okay to stop.

“I only see you, Seishu. You, and only you.”)

At eighteen, he comes home after wandering the world, thinking maybe he can ultimately stop his journey to obtain something because he had someone all along.

-----

At twenty-one, home looks a lot like the one from his childhood. A modest one-bedroom apartment with an equally small living room and kitchen, but there’s still the sound of pencils scribbling as Seishu writes down the grocery list and the air conditioner still hums through the summer daze.

Life feels so calm that everything before this moment feels like a fever dream. He wakes up next to Seishu, drinks coffee — black for him, two sugars and heavy on the milk for Seishu — together before they part ways for work or whatever they have for the day. They take turns picking dinner or leave it to the roulette when they can’t decide, and sometimes they go out with their friends for drinks at night.

Within these four walls of the apartment, there are memories immortalized as pictures, and furniture far too expensive for a little place like this. Heels line up in the doorway, name-brand jackets fill the closet, a set of matching silverware picked out together.

A home meant for two, and love blankets every crevice in this small home and his heart.

Home, Koko thinks, perchance is a person all along as he stares at Seishu, who only smiles and holds out his hand as he catches his eyes. Koko reflectively smiles back and laces their fingers together.

“You ready?” Seishu asks, a grocery list in hand and his heart in the other.

“With you? Always,” he responds back with a grin, knowing he equally holds Seishu’s heart too.

Home, Koko thinks, is definitely Seishu all along. 

#kokonui #kokoinu #inukoko #koko x inupi #koko x inui #kokonoi hajime x inui seishu #sometimes i write things #happy birthday rissa!! #you deserve to be celebrated every day because the world truly is a better place with you in it <3 #there is not a day that goes by without me smiling or laughing because of you #i await the day where we go light a car on fire and have a cute picnic right after <3 #i love you so much <3 #thank you for being born #i personally am rooting for inupi to go apeshit #but in this house we stan soft kkn :') #keep ur eyes out for a possible short kkn series after HUEHUEHUE #tr fic #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers

[rainbowsans]

great analogy! You’re somewhat right! But you forget that the entire point of the comic is to showcase how butchers actions deliberately hurt those who want him to get better, people that care about him. After their little therapy session, Sir confronted Butcher as to why he refuses to talk to someone, not him, but someone...literally ANYONE because Papri ran off upset seeing his brother not taking this seriously and not showing any signs of change, it deeply hurt him considering Butcher DID promise his brother he is willing to make an effort, he lied. Sir wasn’t going to push him to talk, he just wants to understand where he’s coming from.

Instead Butcher twists Sir’s words and starts to verbally attack him with personal sensitive information so he can have control over the situation and belittle Sir. he took it too far which caused Sir to snap. Now he’s blinded by rage and his own magic because of it.

He picks on Sir more than the other sanses because the other sanses bite back and don’t stand for Butchers shit, along with the other papyrus’....but sir, being the saint that he is gives butcher the benefit of the doubt over and over, of course he sometimes stands up for himself but Butcher still walks all over him, because he considers Sir to be “weak” so it’s easier to target him since Butcher is used to that.

Butcher did not however.....think that Sir was actually gonna fight back so that was a surprise for him. The whole point of the comic is to hold him accountable for his mistakes, not for it to be excused. He has made mistakes and hurt his own brother and others, but despite all that...and what he thinks, he can heal. He CAN change, and I can’t wait for you to see it! The one thing Sir is guiltily over is being rightfully angry. His patience is running reallll thin with butcher and I don��t blame him haha

I’m glad you like the story though! Cause there’s more coming soon! Butchers therapy session is commencing!

#txt #I get super invested with these characters and I hope you all like for the future pages!

[obeiii-mee]

Heyo, this is my first time asking (im kinda new to tumblr, so please dont judge) if you would'nt mind, could you do some headcannons (or oneshots, it dosen't matter) with all the demon bros and a MC who is crippled/paralized in their legs, and has to use a wheelchair to get around? Thank you!!

——————————-

This is the first time I’ve written about a crippled MC, so I hope I didn’t fuck this up or anything. I found out that being paralysed in both legs is a disability called Paraplegia so that’s how I titled this post. And y’all are too sweet, you are more than welcome anon! I hope I can portray this properly because I am not crippled myself so I’ve opted to do some research before writing this! I hope you like it! Also, I feel inclined to add that none of the brothers would treat you too differently if you happen to have a disability because you’re their human nonetheless :)

——————————-

The Brothers with an MC that has Paraplegia and needs a wheelchair to get around:

Lucifer:

-Lucifer was in charge of choosing the final human, exchange student for the program so it’s guaranteed he already knew about your predicament before you even arrived

-Him and Diavolo probably had many meetings concerning your disability before the program could commence, considering that being unable to walk would double the chances of you getting killed since you are obviously more vulnerable

-Not to mention all the treatment you would require

-Lucifer is not well versed in human illnesses and disorders, but he makes sure that he is educated enough on the matter before you get brought down there

-It would not be easy, but he is determined to help you survive your year in DevilDom for the prince’s sake

-First problem of the day was, of course, your wheelchair

-Due to lack of time, Lucifer was unable to instal ramps around the House of Lamentation which meant that for the first couple of weeks, someone would’ve had to help you move around certain parts of the house

-He gave that highly prestigious job to himself because he didn’t trust his brothers and thought they would accidentally drop you and your wheelchair down the stairs

-He talks a lot to you, even at the beginning, because he needs to establish your needs and what he should do to make sure you don’t die for the following year

-You would have to tell him about physical therapy and how most commonly it uses heat, massage and exercise to stimulate your nerves and muscles, making it a great treatment for people with leg paralysis

-Once you two enter a more intimate and personal relationship, it’s more than likely he’ll help you perform those things himself (instead of kidnapping a human doctor from somewhere)

-Lucifer knows you have no problem getting around with your wheelchair by yourself but there are times where he’ll insist to push you along in order to give you a quick break

-I can totally imagine you two strolling around DevilDom and having cosy chats about RAD and your adjustments to DevilDom

-He has a softer side to him that he’s afraid to show most of the time, but he feels so at ease when you’re around, it’s hard for him to hold that part of him hidden from you

-Of course, your safety still remains his primary concern and he acts more like your guardian than Mammon does, even if he was originally supposed to look out for you

-He will accompany you almost anywhere. And if he can’t, he’ll have one or more of his brothers do it. And even then he’s probably lurking nearby, just in case

-He would always be willing to listen about your condition, if you wished to tell him whether you were born with the defect or why you ended up crippled later in life. Either way, he’s all ears

-If you would rather not speak about it, he wouldn’t pry and respect your decision because he knows it’s not his place to pressure you

-Because of your paralysis, it’s quite obvious to demons that you are even weaker (physically speaking) than most humans and that usually puts a target on your back

-Howver, never fear, because Lucifer is pretty quick to put lower rank demons in their place with just a mere stare

-Oop one of them passed out from the fear, haha

-In conclusion, he’s the most responsible when it comes your comfort and safety during your stay

-He makes sure you are always left in good hands and and provides most of the requirements you need

-Y’all should see how his wings puff up when he senses a threat approaching you, he looks like a peacock ready to go on attack lol

Mammon:

-The second born is unsurprisingly a bit of a jerk at first

-He stays really grumpy the whole day of your arrival because he’s stuck babysitting you stupid human

-“Lucifer c’mon, what’s all this workload for? The human can’t even walk by themselves, why do I have to help them out?”

-Wtf Mammon you can’t say shit like that

-Anyways, the following very few days, the only thing he’s thinking about is how much money he could sell your wheelchair for

-He’s the literal incarnation of greed, what else did you expect from him?

-After a while, he starts feeling a bit guilty every time he thinks about it though

-Mammon is gonna take this secret to the grave (laughs in immortal) but he actually really likes pushing you around

-Maybe it’s because it’s a clear indication to everyone around him that you are HIS human, under HIS protection and therefore you trust HIM the most since he was your FIRST MAN

-He will insist on helping you get out of that thing when you need to go to bed and stuff every night and he will get pouty real fast if you let any of his other brothers do it

-You wake up to him trying to roll around in your wheelchair one night at like 3am

-At some point, he stole a wheelchair from the human realm to match with his human. You can guess the consequences of his actions

-I can imagine you having to face a staircase or something at school and Mammon being like:

-“Fuck it, imma carry this fragile human instead; wheelchair and all!”

-Like you were a sack of potatoes or something smh

-Cue his brothers watching him from a distance as he heaves you and basically weight-lifts you up the stairs

-Ok but every now and again, he gets so sad thinking about you not being able to walk, like he starts crying kinda sad

-While you stand there like 😐 “Why are you crying?”

-He’s so quick to help if he senses you’re in danger too

-It’s canon that Mammon is crazy fast if he wants to be so if he has even the slightest impression that your life is threatened, his feet are already moving

-He will charge at your immediate threat at around 120 miles per hour-do not try him when he’s mad

-“The Great Mammon saved the day! C’mon MC, let’s go buy some ice cream. My treat! Ya better be grateful!”

-He says while the demon that tried to eat you lies on the floor with about a dozen broken bones

-Mammon is the second most powerful demon out of all of his brothers, even if he doesn’t resort to violence often

Levi:

-He didn’t really know how to react when you first teleported to DevilDom

-I mean, from the very beginning he considered you to be a human normie but at the same time, he felt bad you were stuck with his brothers for the rest of the year

-I think he would understand you would have an even harder time integrating yourself in their house because of your disability and he knows his siblings are really fucking annoying, always pushing you around and whatnot

-So, he kinda lets you hide in his room quite often

-You guys chill out in there all the time, much to the dismay of the other brothers who also want to spend time with you

-At some point, Levi definitely begged asked Lucifer to let you start online classes with him

-“But wouldn’t it be easier for MC to do online school from home rather than go to R.A.D since there aren’t any ramps or anything around there???”

-“The answer is no Leviathan.”

-“Ugh fine! What a fucking boomer-“

-For some reason, he gets so flustered whenever you ask him to push you around

-He blushes right to the tips of his ears and then he starts sputtering some nonsense that you can’t make out at all

-But he’s more than happy to do it, especially if you guys are going to a convention or if he’s dragging you out to buy new merch

-You two would get along in the sense that Levi realises the struggles you faced all your life were tough to overcome and he believes you are just like him

-Usually left out by other people, ignored even

-He knows you always listen to him ramble on about whatever he is currently obsessed with and how much you check up on him to make sure he never isolated himself

-He wants to do that for you too! Talk to him about your hobbies, please I’m begging you-he feels so bad whenever he’s doing all the talking

-If you ask him to help you with anything (getting something, helping you into bed—that sort of thing), he legally and physically can’t say ‘no’

-And he would get envious enough to stop talking to you for a day or two if you let his brothers do it instead (the second and third born are indeed similar lmao)

-S T A Y I N H I S R O O M, W H E R E Y O U C A N B E P R O T E C T E D !

-He will feel so much more at ease if you’re in his room because to him, that’s his haven

-If you’re in there with him, that means you’re not getting involved in his siblings’ endless and dangerous shenanigans

-Whenever you’re at school, he can’t help but worry about your well-being

-Because you’re human! You’re gonna get killed!! Do you know how much your organs sell on the black market in DevilDom??? 100x more than in the human realm, that’s for sure

-Would they have a black market or would it be a regular market lol

-For some reason, he also likes staying in your wheelchair when you’re not using it

-I think he just takes comfort in knowing it’s something that belongs to you and smells like you and-

-OK Levi, sit back down

-He wouldn’t treat you any differently if you had a disability tbh, but he’d be more concerned because you can’t even run away or anything

-So he’s so fuckin’ relieved when you guys are just vibing in his room

-He could die happy knowing he kept his best friend/ partner safe

Satan:

-Satan would be even more prepared for your arrival than Lucifer would, in a sense

-Out of all of his brothers, he’s most likely to understand and recognise paraplegia (either from studying human illnesses/birth defects/disabilities or from encountering humans with said disability)

-He’s a smart boy, alright?

-Always seems to be the first to notice if you need help or if someone’s bothering you

-Though in the very beginning, he was pretty tempted to just let you get killed to see how angry Lucifer could get

-Seeing dear Luci’s misery brings him great joy 🥰🥰🥰

-Once you two manage to build a very honest and strong relationship, he feels more and more inclined to keep you out of harm’s way

-Pls, he would feel so honoured if you let him push you around (it’s like you asked him to h*ld h*nds or something)

-If you require treatment of any kind, he would be so happy to help

-But in a subtle way...?

-Satan makes it seem so smooth too like he doesn’t mind lending a helping hand when in reality he’s all giddy inside

-*Kinda wants to rub it in his brothers’ faces but at the same no, because he’s definitely the bigger person here

-He wants to know how your wheelchair works

-It’s got all of these neat mechanisms and he wants to learn how they’re constructed because he never had the chance to inspect one before

-He’s such a sweetheart about asking you as well and never pries about your disability unless you start elaborating yourself

-Most of the time, he acts all charming and very gentleman-like

-So people have a hard time spotting and acknowledging the building rage inside of him every time he sees you are threatened by some moronic low rank demon

-Satan’s usually chill when it comes to injuries, unless he can see you’re in horrible pain

-There’s nothing a few spells can’t accomplish

-But when others purposefully try harming you?

-It’s like he loses all the self control he’s been trying to perfect over the centuries and he can’t help himself from at least breaking someone’s rib cage

-Satan’s a weird one because he’s protective of you even though he’s more on the relaxed side when compared to his siblings

-He very much acknowledges that you made it this far in life with your predicament so he doesn’t feel the need to baby you or anything

-You’re strong and he knows this

-It’s one of the many things he clearly loves about you

-That one time you rolled over Mammon’s foot with your wheelchair on purpose, he was wheezing

Asmo:

-Even now, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be stuck inside a wheelchair for the rest of his eternal life

-I mean, he’d obviously still be absolutely fabulous, have you seen him? He’s gonna be gorgeous either way

-But after the two of you meet, he definitely starts thinking about how he takes his feet for granted all the time

-It would be so difficult to complete his daily tasks without the ability to walk or run around

-That’s why he gets sad every time he remembers that’s your reality and on days like that, you’ve noticed he gives you a helluva lot more attention than usual

-He knows you don’t need pity or anything so he’s just making sure his human has all the support they can get

-Paraplegia or not, shopping trips are still a go-go

-He loves buying you clothes! And he loves helping you try them on! Asmo takes it very seriously

-Might have a go at the employees if they’re being rude to you

-You don’t even ask him to, but he subconsciously starts pushing you around himself whenever the two of you are out together

-“MC! Look at that new shop that’s just opened! Isn’t it adorable? We have to check it out!”

-He can’t help it! There’s so many places he wants to visit, he sort of just drags you with him wherever he goes

-Even at home, he always pops out of nowhere to coax you into coming to his room

-Y’all have so many skin routines to do each day

-Like he’s in your room most nights to greet you goodnight and tuck you in, with the rest of his brothers it gets so awkward at times

-Asmo just wants to see you smile, ok? He thinks you have a beautiful smile and laugh and he wants to remind you that you’re marvellous, disability or not

-And if anyone does anything to put an end to your self confidence, he will swiftly put an end to their life

-Please, he’s a pro at ruining lives, he’s been doing it for centuries

-Asmo has such a huge influence over the people in DevilDom, he just needs to make this one post on Devilgram to end said demon’s whole career

-I mean, who is he compared to him, Hmm? So don’t worry MC, scum like that don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you :)

-That one time Mammon tried lifting you up the stairs and Asmo started shrieking, like put them down! Don’t manhandle them like that, poor human :(

Beel:

-I know I sound repetitive, but he would be an overall sweetheart to you no matter the circumstances

-If Mammon is not by your side, then Beel definitely is

-His big, scary aura and figure usually scares off any threat in a 10 mile radius

-Most demons don’t fancy being eaten by the Avatar of Gluttony, ya know?

-Idk why but I feel like he’d be the type to ask for oral consent every time he wanted to push you around

-He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable :(

-Surprisingly also the type to lift you and your wheelchair whenever an obstacle gets in your way

-You basically weigh the same amount as a paper plate compared to him, so he has no problem doing so

-He doesn’t really understand your condition as well as Satan may do, but he’s trying his best

-You mean so much to him and he feels it’s only fair he learns more about your disability as a thank you for what you’ve done for him

-He has a rough time keeping up with you when it comes to stuff like physical therapy because he’s very unfamiliar with it but that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna help

-Of course, Beel believes that this is the second best way to show you how much he cares for you besides the obvious ‘I love you’

-Giving you a hand whenever you need his support the most

-That’s his way of saying “I’m not going to let you down. I want you to trust me, the same way I trust you.”

-And knowing him, he will try to do everything in his power to keep you safe and sound

-After a while, you’re bound to notice he’s the first one to pull you out of his brothers’ pranks before you have a chance to get hurt

-Beel is always the one handing you stuff from high places you can’t reach, without teasing you for it like Mammon might do

-Always the first one to remind you to get plenty of rest and to eat enough

-He wants to protect you and his brothers because he knows he failed to do so with Lilith so yeah, he’s a bit overprotective at times

-He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but he gets so anxious knowing you’re by yourself

-After a few months of getting accommodated with him, your disability is no longer brought up in the conversation

-Because he doesn’t care that you are crippled and forced to use a wheelchair

-You are part of his family and he loves you no matter what

Belphie:

-He didn’t really care, even when you first met and his hatred for humans was at its very peak

-It didn’t matter that you had a disability

-All that mattered to him at the time was killing you to satisfy that deeply rooted need of vengeance inside of him

-Though he was sort of surprised his brothers didn’t get to you first

-In general, he’s pretty chill about you being crippled in both legs

-It takes too much effort to worry about your well-being 24/7 after all

-Surprisingly, he does keep an eye out for you if his siblings aren’t nearby

-It’s his redemption arc people, he’s trying to be nicer

-But he has such an irritating way of showing his affection for you

-Do not let him push you around

-He’s either going to a) fall asleep after 30 seconds and slump over you in the middle of RAD’s halls

-Or b) be annoying and fling your wheelchair in every direction possible just to piss you off

-He likes messing with you because you give him the best reactions and he thrives on that

-You’ve almost fallen off your wheelchair multiple times because of this asshole

-Not that he’d actually let you fall, he just wants to see how easily he can get you to yell at him

-Speaking of said wheelchair, like Mammon and Levi, he also loves using it when you’re not

-You’ve woken up to him curled up and asleep in that thing quiet often and he’s gotten in trouble over it every time with Lucifer

-But he doesn’t care

-And at this point, I don’t think even he knows whether he’s doing it to get a reaction out of you or because he somehow found a way to make himself comfortable there

-He would low key use you as a mode of transportation every time you go to RAD

-Just clings the damn wheelchair and almost topples both of you over

-“Belphie, there’s nothing stopping you from walking 😐”

-“Shh, just bring me to class and let me nap until then.”

-He doesn’t mention your legs but he still lays his head on your lap often

-Might make you hold him like a bride every time you stroll around the house

-It’s done out of love, I promise 😌😌

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Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #om #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #paraplegia #⭐️ requests #🕯 general #☂️ demon brothers