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#how to write a character with an eating disorder

rosinaparker · 2 days

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would u guys write any angsty headcanons for the sbg characters?

Angsty Sbg Headcannons

ABSOLUTELY. -✩

Genre: Angst

Warnings: depression, anxiety, sleep paralysis, insomnia, suicidal thoughts, attempting, attachment issues, eating disorder, hallucinations, trauma, trauma dumping, violence, panic(attacks), body dysmorphia, guns, paranoia, masking

A/n: this shit was hard to write(and my first time)

My sweet little babys, god they're so exhausted it's insane

(not sure how to start but imma try best fr)

Ash

After an exhausting night, fighting the phantoms, she kinda lays there in bed numb

Loses her appetite often

Develops an eating disorder

Even ballet didn't get her mind off of those awful creatures

Definitely gets sleep paralysis of the phantoms after finally escaping the realm

Taylor

Terrified to sleep alone at night

Cant focus

Sometimes gets little visions of her friends getting attacked and absolutely doesn't let them off her sight

Crys to herself in the bathroom, so that tyler doesn't hear

After tyler dying (and reviving fr) she became way more anxious about his well being

Attachment issues

Tyler

Has nightmares about how he dies

Develops insomnia

Hallucinates. That includes: voices, screams from a distance and shadows

Cant properly eat after the tree accident..his literal organs got impaled

Throws up just thinking about it.

He always wondered how it would feel like to die but never excepted it to be in that way

Developed trauma, everytime he's in a car and it's driving on a highway, he starts panicking and taylor has to grab his hand to ground him

Has gotten so paranoid about taylor that he doesn't even let her leave the room without him.

Ben

Has trouble breathing when he remembers certain situations

Panic attacks

Has nightmares about his friends dying

Wakes up in panic, even if he didnt dream anything bad

Punches the wall when he gets mad, til his knuckles start to bleed

Gets depressive episodes

Aiden

Even though he had suicidal thoughts, he didnt end it all, just because the phantom realm gave him the adrenaline

Accidentally trauma dumps on the others and goes on with his day

Has attempted.

Everytime he tears up, he slaps himself across the face

Masks his emotions

When he gets anxious, he starts scratching his skin off

Hates his appearance.

Logan

Feels weaker then everyone else

Insecure

Everytime he holds a gun, his intrusive thoughts come running

Has thought of shooting himself, just by holding said gun

Has become apathetic

Way more aggressive

Feels useless without a gun

-Rose✩

#schoolbus graveyard #school bus graveyard #sbg webtoon #webtoon #headcannons #sbg logan #sbg ben #sbg aiden #sbg ashlyn #sbg tyler #sbg taylor #sbg (webtoon)#sbg #Angst

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unboundprompts · 7 months

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hii! how are you? i'm currently writing about a character with ED (bulimia), and i don't know how to exactly write it without it looking like i'm guessing everything.

if you have a web page, or information about it that you can tell me about I'd be very glad to read and learn from it!

thanks!

How to Write a Character with an Eating Disorder

@writinghelpers made a post on this that can be found HERE that includes multiple types of eating disorders, as well as some common misconceptions.

@thecaffeinebookwarrior made a post that can be found HERE and it includes multiple resources for different types of eating disorders, as well as multiple resources of general knowledge regarding ED's.

@lets-get-fictional answered an ask regarding ED's found HERE and they included links and tips on how to not romanticize the ED.

#I hope this helps!#ask box prompts #how to write #writeblr #creative writing #how to write a character with an eating disorder #writing tips #writing advice #writing resources #writing help #writing tools #tw eating disorder #tw disordered eating

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red-moon-at-night · 10 months

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Let's talk a little bit about Mahiru's boyfriend

This post is alternatively titled "Mahiru's Boyfriend Probably Had An Eating Disorder And I Am Very Sad About It So Now You Get To Be Sad About It With Me" but that felt a bit much in the bold title font so I'm trying to tone this down at least a little bit :')

So I was reading this wonderful post earlier (you should too btw it has a LOT of interesting information), and as I was going through the food section something clicked in my brain. Pieces of information that were drifting aimlessly before quickly came together for me and I almost wish they hadn’t because oh boy is it depressing.

Now, nothing I’m about to say here is explicitly stated - but I do think it is strongly insinuated, through the MVs of both ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ (TIHTBILWY what an acronym wow) and ‘I Love You’. I am aware that the latter video has a lot of metaphorical imagery, but I still think some of this imagery can be taken in a literal sense to reinforce ideas established in TIHTBILWY.

TW/Trigger Warnings: discussion of eating disorders (anorexia, bulimia, etc.), discussion of suicide and suicidal thoughts. Please take these into consideration and stay safe!

credit to iaobug’s transcribed images from ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ used below btw!

Now I’ve always had an inkling this could be possible, but I didn’t realise until recently there was this much evidence supporting a little idea of mine dancing around in my head.

But First, Some Quick Definitions and Criteria

First things first, I think we should briefly clarify what an eating disorder is and what eating disorder I think Mahiru’s boyfriend most likely had.

Here are some definitions:

Eating disorders are behavioral conditions characterized by severe and persistent disturbance in eating behaviors and associated distressing thoughts and emotions. They can be very serious conditions affecting physical, psychological and social function. (source)

An eating disorder is a mental health condition where you use the control of food to cope with feelings and other situations. (source)

And here are some brief introductions to several types of eating disorders:

The most common eating disorders are:

anorexia nervosa – trying to control your weight by not eating enough food, exercising too much, or doing both bulimia – losing control over how much you eat and then taking drastic action to not put on weight binge eating disorder (BED) – eating large portions of food until you feel uncomfortably full

Other specified feeding or eating disorder (OSFED) – A person may have an OSFED if their symptoms do not exactly fit the expected symptoms for any specific eating disorders.

(source)

Okay, so we have some basic information down, cool! This is not fully comprehensive but it will do for the purposes of this segment.

So what eating disorder do I believe Mahiru’s boyfriend had?

I’m not sure! The information we have is not conclusive enough for me to confidently pick an option. What I will say is most likely, and most common, is OSFED and the concept of the eating disorder cycle. People’s symptoms will often overlap with multiple diagnoses, or shift from one mode of behaviour (e.g. the restrictive eating behaviours found in anorexia) to another (e.g. binge eating and following compensatory behaviours found in bulimia).

Things are often not as clear-cut or black and white as we’d like to imagine.

Let’s move onto looking at the MVs, shall we?

This first music video has a wealth of information hidden in its cute magazine-style annotations and imagery - information that, when you look a little closer and consider the bigger picture, raises all the alarm bells in my mind.

Parts of ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ That Make Me Pause In Concern, In Chronological Order:

The Bread

Let's start off with a not very obvious one.

One of the first things we learn about Mahiru’s soon-to-be-boyfriend (which by the way this is literally the 2nd time he’s mentioned) is ‘wow he buys a lot of bread’. Insignificant on its own, I know, but consider this through my lens if you will: my man has bought 5 whole baguettes from a bakery. Not 2 or 3, but 5. Actually, on closer inspection there's even more bread of a different type at the bottom of that bag too. These aren’t store-bought, they’re fresh and will probably go stale in a few days. Pray tell, if the man is not eating baguette for breakfast lunch and dinner over the course of 72 hours... why did he buy so much fucking bread?

What comes to mind when I see this is binge eating. Bread is one of the most common binge foods out there; anything with high carbohydrates or high fat content, in fact, often due to its “unhealthy” or “forbidden” nature.

We'll just have a quick look at Mahiru's comment again:

"I thought to buy the same bread he did, but this is far too much for me to eat... ><

I forgot to ask how many calories there are..."

If it hasn't been established by now with the MV's aesthetic, Mahiru cares about her appearance. A lot. Her self-image and beauty directly ties into looking 'good' enough for others, so she can find the love of her life and please him with her looks.

If Mahiru is also calorie counting, this does not bode well for their relationship. I should probably speak in past tense, actually... Mahiru's own self-image behaviours made her blind to her boyfriend's self-image behaviours. There we go.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So, We have an indication of binge eating behaviours. Remind me again what comes after binging?

The Jogging Hobby

Oh, that’s right - purging.

Excessive exercise is an indirect method of purging/compensatory behaviour found in bulimia. A more commonly known purging method is self-induced vomiting, but that's certainly not the only way to counteract excess calories.

So the jogging, while harmless in isolation, is starting to paint an ever-so-slightly worrying picture.

Again, let's take a look at Mahiru's comment:

"I had a chance to chat with him today, and he mentioned his hobby was jogging. ... I haven't exercised this much in ages... I'm totally exhausted..."

The only hobby (not hobbies but hobby, singular) that we learn the boyfriend has is this. Sure, there's one movie that he also likes... but that's it. There's not much else to him! So when the two most prevalent ideas attached to this guy are 'food' (in excess) and 'exercise' (in excess)... you can see where I'm going with this.

And by the way, the post I linked at the very beginning? Well, they worked out the location of where this running loop is, and judging by Mahiru’s position and direction it would suggest she’s already jogged about 5km and beginning another loop. So we’re looking at a jog ranging from 5-10km (or more)...

The Alcohol

Okay, here's a quick pop quiz question for you. Who is more likely to get drunk on the same volume of alcohol: a 5"1 woman, or an average height (5"7 in Japan) man?

In theory, it should be the 5"7 man on the basis of his height and size. Alcohol tolerance goes up the bigger you are.

So why is it that the boyfriend ended up blackout drunk, and Mahiru... didn't?

Let’s take a look at the comment:

“My first date at a bar, how heartpounding!

Here is where I learned he’s the biggest lightweight I’ve ever met! ...or maybe I’m just really good at holding alcohol?

Whatever the case, blackout drunk him is so cute!”

Three possible options:

Mahiru really can 'hold her liquor'. Judging by her sheltered home life and general lack of adult life experience though, I'm gonna press x to doubt here sorry mappi.

The boyfriend drunk more alcohol than Mahiru. Also unlikely, as she calls him a 'lightweight' and I think she would've highlighted this in her comment.

He drank on an empty stomach. Alcohol absorbs way faster if you haven't had anything to eat beforehand. This, I think is the most likely scenario.

Here's a little more on the subject that I found interesting:

You absorb 20 per cent of alcohol into your bloodstream through your stomach and the rest into your bloodstream through your small intestine.

Drinking a small amount of alcohol stimulates your appetite because it increases the flow of stomach juices. A large amount of alcohol dulls your appetite and can cause malnutrition. (source)

What have we learnt so far?

So we’ve established some concerning behaviours here.

He eats in excess

He exercises in excess

He drinks in excess (on an empty stomach)

I’m actually going to move onto material from the ‘I Love You’ MV, but intertwine it with some of the remaining points from TIHTBILWY.

At this point the relationship has progressed, we’re moving into winter which brings with it the holiday season! Yay! Except not yay, because things are starting to look really bad for Mahiru’s boyfriend. We've gone from this:

To this:

The carousel was fine at first but now it’s taking its toll on him. Both of them have tattered clothes but Mahiru looks optimistic, whilst the boyfriend looks very distraught. His cheekbones are visible and overall he looks a lot less healthy. I guess this is a good time to point out how distinct and visible his collarbone has been this entire time by the way? He’s even bonier than before. Not great.

A lot of events occur at this time of year, such as Christmas (celebrated between couples in Japan as more of a lovers holiday) and new years. What happens a lot during that period of time? Food. Lots of it. This point in the year is not ideal for someone suffering from a worsening eating disorder. This is a period of time which someone would want to move very quickly from because they can’t see the end of it.

I think it’s time to read Mahiru’s comment from day 15:

“Happy new years! To celebrate, we went to a shrine.

Predictably, I already have my wish in mind.

May we stay like this until the end of time.

May nobody stand in my way”

She, on the other hand, is very happy for things to remain as they are.

Day 16 - AKA, Oh No Things Have Gone Terribly Wrong

This is where the narrative hits its climax and everything starts to snowball.

Now, we reach this scene where the boyfriend stops walking and breaks down. He kneels on the ground, digs his nails into it, and pleads for... something. Help? An intervention? A stop to this carousel that’s doing him no good and only making his health (physical and mental) worse?

He never speaks. It is a silent plea.

One that Mahiru misses.

Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin

My love, it scored an own goal, destroyed my love and me with its weight

Tell me, oh tell me why, can’t I just do it right

What did you do, Mahiru?

I believe that this scene and response:

Is directly parallel to this event:

As in, they’re the same thing.

One more comment to read:

He’ll be in for a big, delicious surprise once he gets home!

I’ve made SO many notes about his favorite foods, and practiced my butt off!

I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees it all.

Her love - her surprise buffet to cheer him up - scored an own goal, so to speak.

I don’t think I need to say much about this picture, or this scene. She’s giving him excess but that excess is literally driving him over the edge. The nuance is lost between them, and they both need different things from each other and they’re not getting it. Cake to rats, rats to cake.

They’re back on the carousel, spinning around and around with things never changing, no end in sight.

I want to end on this frame of the MV. You see the pole behind the boyfriend? It’s reminding me of rope, and of a certain visual at the end of the video. The juxtaposition of Mahiru forcing her ‘love’ onto him, and of suicidal ideation being the only way off this ride and his problems.

#milgram #mahiru shiina #analysis #long post #eating disorder tw #anorexia tw #bulimia tw #this is how to be in love with you #ai nan desu yo #I love you #daisuki #I DID THE THING and it's... long. and sad :(#this was a really interesting interpretation to write! it's certainly not bulletproof but I truly believe this guy had problems in life #and mahiru couldn't have changed that fact. did she help? not really! did things get bad bad? y. yeah. but! ...#...I have nothing uplifting to say here. her love was plentiful and well meaning but woefully misguided </3 #I genuinely care about this nameless character now... he looks so happy at the start embracing her and im certain in better--#--days between them they were having a great lovey dovey time!! ugH my heart it hurts.....#if there's typos it's because it's late and I'm tired LMAO

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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4 Tips for Autistic Writers

Autistic writers can face unique challenges when it comes to writing. NaNo Participant Auden Halligan has tips to handle some of those challenges!

So, you’ve just sat down at your desk, all ready to work on your next chapter, but you just can’t seem to start. Something is itching at your brain, and no matter how hard you think, you can’t figure it out. For autistic writers, that itch might be even harder to get around when compounded with autistic inertia, introspection issues, and sensory processing disorder — even if we were super excited to get started, sometimes the stumbling blocks are enough to keep us from going anywhere at all.

Here are four tips to identify your struggles and work around them rather than against them as an autistic writer!

1. Schedule your writing time appropriately

While keeping a schedule can help you stave off unwanted change in your routine, the need to switch to another task when the clock strikes the hour sometimes feels like a monumental task, one that eventually becomes detrimental to your creative pursuits.

If switching tasks is the biggest hurdle to your writing, setting a designated writing time with no other plans around it could do the trick. Oftentimes, just one hour of time to transition from doing dishes to sitting down at your computer to write is exactly what you need to get past that point and find your writing headspace.

2. Make sure your sensory environment is right

Sometimes getting into that writing headspace is harder than normal, but you can’t put your finger on a reason. Chances are, you’re not quite ready until you have your sensory needs met and you can fully focus on your story.

Personally, I like to be on the couch with my water bottle, a playlist at just the right volume, and a comfortable jacket or hoodie on. For you, the ideal sensory space might involve a desk and a snack, a pet nearby, and a quiet room. For others, it could be outside or even at a library or coffee shop. Autistic people are all different and so are their sensory needs, so this one is super subjective — do what works best for you!

3. Take breaks often

Writing can be exhausting, and if you’re struggling to keep going, you might need to take a pause. If you’re like me and struggle with remembering to hydrate and eat once you’re deep in a task, use your break to get some water and a snack. If you’re having trouble staying focused, get up and move around and stim or go outside to give your brain a reset. If you feel like you’ve gotten some good progress done, however small, reward yourself — do something related to your special interest, dance with a pet, and celebrate your little (or big!) win!

The pomodoro method is a good way to keep yourself from working too long without a break, and if that doesn’t work for you, methods like the Eisenhower method with breaks interspersed and even simply inserting breaks into your scheduled writing time are just as valid.

4. Don’t be afraid to skip around

Another thing that often trips us autistic people up is needing to follow the story down its natural progression, from start to middle all the way to the finish. But inevitably, once we’ve gotten past the initial excitement of having the project started, we hit a stumbling block…and the project gets abandoned. I’ve left behind countless projects because I lost interest after hitting a scene I wasn’t excited for after just a few chapters.

To combat this, try writing out of order! Skip ahead to the scene directly after your stumbling block. You could also skip to the next scene your favorite character is in or even to the climax if it helps you move forward. If you’re having trouble putting your first words down, try writing a random scene in the middle of your story to get into the groove of writing your characters.

Alternately, if you can’t abide by the out of order method and really need to get your characters from Point A to Point B, try putting the scene you’re stuck on in brackets. For example:

[Character 1 and Character 2 fight over the decision to kick Character 3 off the team. 2 leaves in anger.]

It’s simple, efficient, and gets you out of that particular rut so you can keep moving toward that sweet, sweet conversation you’ve wanted to write since Day 1.

Now go forth and write, my friends!

Auden Halligan is a creator through and through. She’s been writing her entire life, but didn’t start participating in NaNoWriMo until 2017–right now she’s working on developing a TV series (or two!) and has several novels and short films in the drafting phase. Auden is currently a college student studying film production and hoping to minor in disability studies. You can find her on her very sparse Twitter at ink.and.spite. Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

If you’re an autistic writer, check out the Pillow Fort in the NaNoWriMo forums! It’s a group for people who are neurodivergent, have disabilities, mental health concerns, or physical challenges that affect their lives.

#nanowrimo #camp nanowrimo #writing #autistic writers #writing advice #by nano guest #Auden Halligan #neurodivergent writers

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neil-gaiman · 8 months

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Hello Neil, how are you?

You get a lot of asks about how therapeutic good omens is for the queer community, and I thought you should know there is another therapeutic effect for this show and this fandom. I'm sure I'm not the only one feeling like this and I hope I will be able to explain it in a way that will do justice to the point I'm trying to make (English is not my native language).

So to the point - good omens have helped me significantly with my eating disorders and body image problems. I'm here lurking in fandoms for at least 15 years, most of them fantasy and comics related. And almost always the main characters are young, very fit with perfect bodies, whether in movies and TV or fanfiction. For years I have struggled with not being able to fit my body to the beauty standards of society and western culture. I don't want to trigger anyone so I won't elaborate, but I did everything I could and it never was enough. Therapy was very important and got me to the point I don't hurt myself anymore, but my mind still couldn't believe a person who looks like me can be attractive or romantically lovable. Then I got to know the good omens fandom. Where you chose to show characters that doesn't see food as the enemy or the pleasure from it as ugly or wrong. That can have love and support and being comfortable with themselves regardless of any 'gut' they 'need' to lose. And it continued and magnified in season 2, with your plot and casting choices. But also the fandom of good omens have helped immensely to enable the change in my perspective about myself. The way people talk and write about these characters and their relationships allows me to feel better about myself. It's amazing how reading stories about different types of bodies being accepted and considered as beautiful can make the reader feel more appreciative and even learn to love their own body. I wish I could see more of it on mainstream tv, movies and books.

So thank you neil and thanks to this entire community, for helping me learn how to accept, love and treat myself better.

I'm so very glad.

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bedoballoons · 3 months

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GENSHIN BOYS WITH A FEM!THIN/UNDERWEIGHT READER???? ive always been rlly thin, so it’s not eating disorder related just a scrawny fem!reader

OOOOOO OKIE!! I've always been thicker myself so I hope I wrote this well! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy the characters I picked!!

─⊰💕𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤💕⊰─

{༻~Scrawny and cute~༺}

CW: Fem! Reader described as being very thin!, fluffy and sweet!

A/n: First time writing Gaming!! EEE so excited!! Hope I did him justice!!

(Includes: Lyney, Gaming, and Venti!)

𑁍༄Lyney:

You tried to stay perfectly still as Lynette measured you...how had you gotten in this position? You weren't really sure, all you knew was that Lyney was special ordering you a outfit for his next show and he'd asked his sister to measure you, only she seemed a little perplexed with the results. "You're eating right? You make sure to have three meals a day? Maybe even some snacks?"

You raised a eyebrow at her, "Yes of course. Why do you ask?"

She paused for a second, her features not giving any hint to what she was feeling, "Your measurements are just very small, for a second I was worried you might need to eat more."

"Nope, I was actually worried about that at first as well, but I always make food and she eats it. She's just naturally thin, which is exactly why I'm thinking you'll be perfect for the trick I have in mind...if that's alright of course?"

You and Lynette turned your attention to Lyney as he walked up to you, his eyes sparkling with inspiration as you contemplated his request. "Hmm do I get a kiss after the show?"

"As if you wouldn't mon amour~"

𑁍༄Gaming:

"Woah here let me get that for ya!"

"Watch your step, don't want you to fall!"

"Get to safety I'll take care of them!"

You'd heard them a few to many times lately, you knew Gaming was only looking out for you, he was a caring guy and he truly just wanted to make sure you were okay all the time...even if he was being a little to...over protective. Yes you were a bit scrawnier than he was...his claymore probably weighed more then you did, but that didn't mean he had to do everything for you..., "Hey Gaming? You know you don't have to do all that stuff for me right? I can do it just fine I swea-"

"Oh I have no doubts you could, I just figured when I'm with you, you shouldn't have to. Hmm how do I put this...you're one of the most precious things to me, so I want to take care of you." He scratched the back of his neck, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, "Maybe I was over doing it though...sorry. Promise i'll remember that for next time, for now lets enjoy some dim sum!"

𑁍༄Venti:

Venti wrapped his arms around your waist tightly and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as ran your fingers over the details engraved in his lyre. He'd been teaching you how to play little by little everyday and now you could almost strum a whole song...but it still just didn't sound as good as when he played it, "Venti do you think one day my music will induce feelings like yours does? I want to play you a melody that leaves you feeling calm and happy, just like you do to me."

He smiled softly and kissed your cheek, his embrace growing slightly tighter around your slim waist, "I think one day you will make music that leaves everyone feeling calm and free, you have talent and a beauty even crystal flies would be jealous of."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and butterflies fill your stomach...one day. One day you'd play him a tune that explained every feeling just right and then when he held you tightly after, chuckling happily and making a joke about how he hopes he doesn't break you with his hugs...you'd tell him just how much you loved him and it would be the most perfect of days.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #lyney x you #lyney x reader #lyney headcanons #lyney fluff #gaming headcanons #gaming fluff #gaming x you #gaming x reader #venti headcanons #venti fluff #venti x you #venti x reader

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cripplecharacters · 1 year

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Writing Intellectually Disabled Characters

[large text: writing intellectually disabled characters]

Something that very rarely comes up in disability media representation are intellectually disabled characters. There is very little positive representation in media in general (and basically none in media meant specifically for adults or in YA). I hope this post can maybe help someone interested in writing disabled characters understand the topic better and create something nice. This is just a collection of thoughts of only one person with mild ID (me) and I don't claim to speak for the whole community as its just my view. This post is meant to explain how some parts of ID work and make people aware of what ID is.

This post is absolutely not meant for self diagnosis (I promise you would realize before seeing a Tumblr post about it. it's a major disorder that gets most people thrown into special education).

Before: What is (and isn't) intellectual disability?

ID is a single, life-long neurodevelopment condition that affects IQ and causes problems with reasoning, problem‑solving, remembering and planning things, abstract thinking and learning. There is often delay or absence of development milestones like walking (and other kinds of movement), language and self care skills (eating, going to the bathroom, washing, getting dressed etc). Different people will struggle with different things to different degrees. I am, for example, still fully unable to do certain movements and had a lot of delay in self-care, but I had significantly less language-related delay than most of people with ID I know. Usually the more severe a person's ID is the more delay they will have.

Intellectual disability is one single condition and it doesn't make sense to call it "intellectual disabilities" (plural) or "an intellectual disability". It would be like saying "they have a Down Syndrome" or "he has autisms". The correct way would be "she has intellectual disability" or "ze is intellectually disabled".

Around 1-3% of people in the world have intellectual disability and most have mild ID (as opposed to moderate, severe, or profound). It can exist on its own without any identifiable condition or it can be a part of syndrome. There is over a thousand (ranging from very common to extremely rare) conditions that can cause ID but some of the most common are;

Down Syndrome,

Fragile X Syndrome,

Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,

Autism,

Edwards Syndrome,

DiGeorge Syndrome,

Microcephaly.

Not every condition always causes ID and you can have one of the above conditions without having ID as long as it's not necessary diagnostic criteria to be met. For example around 30% of autistic people have ID, meaning that the rest 70% doesn't. It just means that it's comorbid often enough to be counted as a major cause but still, autistic ≠ intellectually disabled most of the time.

A lot of things that cause intellectual disability also come with facial differences, epilepsy, mobility-related disabilities, sensory disabilities, and limb differences. A lot, but not all, intellectually disabled people go to special education schools.

Intellectual disability isn't the same as brain damage. Brain damage can occur at any point of a person's life while ID always starts in or before childhood.

"Can My Character Be [Blank]?"

[large text: "Can my character be [blank]?"]

The difficulty with writing characters with intellectual disability is that unlike some other things you can give your character, ID will very directly impacts how your character thinks and behaves - you can't make the whole character and then just slap the ID label on them.

Intellectually disabled people are extremely diverse in terms of personality, ability, verbality, mobility... And you need to consider those things early because deciding that your character is nonverbal and unable to use AAC might be an issue if you're already in the middle of writing a dialogue scene.

For broader context, a person with ID might be fully verbal - though they would still probably struggle with grammar, what some words mean, or with general understanding of spoken/written language to some degree. Or they could also be non-verbal. While some non-verbal ID people use AAC, it's not something that works for everyone and some people rely on completely language-less communication only. There is also the middle ground of people who are able to speak, but only in short sentences, or in a way that's not fully understandable to people who don't know them. Some might speak in second or third person.

Depending on the severity of your character's disability they will need help with different tasks. For example, I'm mildly affected and only need help with "complex" tasks like shopping or taxes or appointments, but someone who is profoundly affected will probably need 24/7 care. It's not infantilization to have your character receive the help that they need. Disabled people who get help with bathing or eating aren't "being treated like children", they just have higher support needs than me or you. In the same vein, your character isn't "mentally two years old" or "essentially a toddler", they are a twenty-, or sixteen-, or fourty five-year old who has intellectual disability. Mental age isn't real. Intellectually disabled people can drink, have sex, smoke, swear, and a bunch of other things. A thirty year old disabled person is an adult, not a child!

An important thing is that a person with ID has generally bad understanding of cause-and-effect and might not make connections between things that people without ID just instinctively understand. For example, someone could see that their coat is in a different place than they left it, but wouldn't be able to deduce that then it means that someone else moved it or it wouldn’t even occur to them as a thing that was caused by something. I think every (or at least most) ID person struggles with this to some extent. The more severe someone's disability is the less they will be able to connect usually (for example someone with profound ID might not be able to understand the connection between the light switch and the light turning off and on).

People with mild intellectual disability have the least severe problems in functioning and some are able to live independently, have a job, have kids, stuff like that.

What Tropes Should You Avoid?

[large text: what tropes should you avoid?]

The comic relief/punching bag;

The predator/stalker;

The "you could change this character into a sick dog and there wouldn't be much difference";

...and a lot more but these are the most prevalent in my experience.

Most ID characters are either grossly villainized (more often if they have also physical disabilities or facial differences) or extremely dehumanized or ridiculed, or all of the above. It's rarely actually *mentioned* for a character to be intellectually disabled, but negative "representation" usually is very clear that this who they're attempting to portray. The portrayal of a whole group of people as primarily either violent predators, pitiful tragedies or nothing more than a joke is damaging and you probably shouldn't do that. It's been done too many times already.

When those tropes aren't used the ID character is still usually at the very most a side character to the main (usually abled) character. They don't have hobbies, favorite foods, movies or music they like, love interests, friends or pets of their own and are very lucky if the author bothered to give them a last name. Of course it's not a requirement to have all of these but when there is *no* characterization in majority of disabled characters, it shows. They also usually die in some tragic way, often sacrificing themselves for the main character or just disappear in some off-the-screen circumstances. Either way, they aren't really characters, they're more like cardboard cutouts of what a character should be - the audience has no way to care for them because the author has put no care into making the character interesting or likable at all. Usually their whole and only personality and character trait is that they have intellectual disability and it's often based on what the author thinks ID is without actually doing any research.

What Terms to Use and Not Use

[large text: What Terms to Use and Not Use]

Words like: "intellectually disabled" or "with/have intellectual disability" are terms used by people with ID and generally OK to use from how much I know. I believe more people use the latter (person first language) for themselves but i know people who use both. I use the first more often but I don't mind the second. Some people have strong preference with one over the other and that needs to be respected.

Terms like:

"cursed with intellectual disability"

"mentally [R-slur]"

"moron"

"idiot"

"feeble-minded"

"imbecile"

is considered at least derogatory by most people and I don't recommend using it in your writing. The last 5 terms directly come from outdated medical terminology specifically regarding ID and aren't just "rude", they're ableist and historically connected to eugenics in the most direct way they could be. To me personally they're highly offensive and I wouldn't want to read something that referred to its character with ID with those terms.

(Note: there are, in real life, people with ID that refer to themselves with the above... but this is still just a writing guide. Unless you belong to the group i just mentioned I would advise against writing that, especially if this post is your entire research so far.)

Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Intellectual Disability

[large text: Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Intellectual Disability]

[format borrowed from WWC]

I want to see more characters with intellectual disability that...

aren’t only white boys.

are LGBT+.

are adults.

are allowed to be angry without being demonized, and sad without being infantilized.

are not described as "mentally X years old".

are respected by others.

aren't "secretly smart" or “emotionally smart”.

are able to live independently with some help.

aren't able to live independently at all and aren't mocked for that.

are in romantic relationships or have crushes (interabled... or not!).

are non-verbal or semi-verbal.

use mobility aids and/or AAC.

have hobbies they enjoy.

have caregivers.

have disabilities related to their ID.

have disabilities completely unrelated to their ID.

have friends and family who like and support them.

go on cool adventures.

are in different genres: fantasy, romComs, action, slice of life... all of them.

have their own storylines.

aren't treated as disposable.

don't die or disappear at the first possible opportunity.

...and I want to see stories that have multiple intellectually disabled characters.

I hope that this list will give someone inspiration to go and make their first OC with intellectual disability ! This is just a basic overview to motivate writers to do their own research rather than a “all-knowing post explaining everything regarding ID”. I definitely don't know everything especially about the parts of ID that I just don't experience (or not as much as others). This is only meant to be an introduction for people who don't really know what ID is or where to even start.

Talk to people with intellectual disability (you can send ask here but there are also a lot of other people on Tumblr who have ID and I know at least some have previously answered asks as well if you want someone else's opinion!), watch/read interviews with people who have ID (to start - link1, link2, both have captions) and try to rethink what you think about intellectual disability. Because it's really not that rare like a lot of people seem to think. Please listen to us when we speak.

Good luck writing and thank you for reading :-) (smile emoji)

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #writing intellectually disabled characters #neurodivergency #terminology #long post #writing advice #writing disabled characters #writeblr #writing reference #writing disability #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #intellectual disability representation

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operator-report · 3 months

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In middle school, I read a short story for English class called Flowers for Algernon. Maybe you’ve read it, too. In the story, a disabled man named Charlie is given a medicine that cures his disability. Over the course of the story, he comes to realize that his “cure” is temporary and that he will “regress” into being disabled again. The story makes it clear that this is a tragedy. As a disabled teenager when I first read it, the story affected me deeply.

I’d like to talk about David and Noelle.

Content warnings for discussion of suicide, self-harm, ableism and eating disorders below the cut. Spoilers for Worm through arc 27.

When I was first reading arc 18, one of the things that stuck out to me is how much time the story spends on Eidolon. For me, it was the first time I paid much attention to him - prior to that, Eidolon was just an extremely powerful background character to me. But in arc 18, we learn that (1) Eidolon is losing his powers and (2) he believes that fighting Echidna will allow him to tap into some sort of reservoir to bring them back.

We find this out, of course, through Tattletale exposing him, which is always an extremely embarrassing event for Tattletale’s target. It makes it extremely clear that what Eidolon is doing is pathetic. He is going to kill a teenage girl so he can feel something.

Which would be messed up enough, right? We don’t need to make this even worse, right? Wrong. Because Wildblow has spent the last several thousand words building up the Case 53s as X-Men style metaphors for oppressed groups, and one of the forms of oppression that Wildblow generally writes well is ableism. I think you can consider most, if not all of the Case 53s as disabled in some way. I think the link is extremely clear with Noelle.

Noelle doesn’t get her powers from traditional Cauldron human experimentation - at least, not directly. Instead, she and Krouse are facing what is, to them, a no-win scenario. They’re quarantined with limited access to medical care. Breaching this quarantine would permanently render them criminals. If Noelle survives her surgery, which is a pretty big if, she’ll become disabled, in a way that both Krouse and Noelle agree is ugly and undesirable. She won’t be able to do “boyfriend-girlfriend stuff” because she won’t be “any good to look at, after.”

Krouse and Noelle are terrified of death, yes, but they’re also terrified of disability. They are desperate for control over Noelle’s body, control that, as of that moment, only the state has. (Remember the quarantine?) Krouse pressures Noelle into drinking the vial. Noelle is cured.

Noelle’s cure does not last. In attempting to assert control, her body becomes uncontrollable. Her body is her trauma and her eating disorder made literal. She still needs care.

Worm would be bad if this is why her life sucks. But Worm does something better, instead. Noelle goes through hell, not just due to the sheer difficulty of having her power, but because of the way her teammates and Coil treat her. They talk about Noelle like she’s already dead. They’re ashamed of bringing her the food she needs. When Krouse “includes” Noelle in a discussion in arc 12, it’s mostly perfunctory. They do not believe Noelle is human any longer. They lock her away.

Noelle doesn’t want to be put in a cage. Noelle doesn’t want to be dehumanized. In interlude 18, when we get insight into Noelle’s thoughts, we learn that what Noelle is angry about is the fact that Krouse locked her in a concrete bunker and placated her. When she tells people not to look at her, there’s a coda to that sentence that she doesn’t get to verbalize: don’t look at me like that.

This is the person who Eidolon is going to kill.

Via the Simurgh, this is a person Eidolon has unknowingly created.

A few thousand words of Worm go by. It’s Gold Morning. Eidolon is fighting Scion. Now, at the end of the book, we finally get substantial insight into David, the man behind the mask.

David takes a Cauldron vial to cure his disability. David sees this as the only way out, after an unsuccessful application to join the military, and then, an unsuccessful suicide attempt. David is bearing an immense amount of shame and internalized ableism. David is worried that father’s friends are watching him. (Don’t look at me.) David cleaves the world into two kinds of people: those who can have jobs, who are liked and respected because they are useful; and people like him, who are useless.

It’s a terrible way to think. Without that worldview, how could a person not take the vial? David wants to be used, because David wants to be useful. He never gets the independence he craves – not when he’s in that level of debt to Cauldron – but he gets to be useful, and that’s one of the best things you can be.

Like Noelle’s, like Charlie’s in Flowers, David’s cure doesn’t work. His abilities are wearing off. He is essentially told, when Doctor Mother administers his booster shots, that his medicine is too expensive.

Cauldron creates Noelle. David, as Cauldron’s soldier, has a role to play in her creation. David knows exactly what he is doing to Noelle. It happened to him. Worm fandom talks a lot about David being a father. He’s a father in more ways than one. (David’s father is always watching him.) (Don’t look at me.)

Cauldron never cures David’s ableism. In his world, you can be useful, or you can die. David asks Noelle if she wants to win. Noelle tells him no. You can have a job, or you can kill yourself. When David tries to kill Noelle to help himself, isn’t that a mercy?

Of course it isn’t. It goes without saying that all of this is extremely fucked up. When it comes to disability, “cure” is a complicated concept. I’m not going to get into all the ways it can be treated; this post is already a thousand words long. But I do think that Worm, through Noelle and David and the concept of the Cauldron vial, provides an extremely vivid picture of the problems with cure.

Under ableist logic, when you have a disability, a cure is something you’re expected to want. Without it, the story goes, you can’t be useful. You can’t do boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. The expectation is social, like the act of staring. Your desire for it should drive how you organize your life – it is control, like a quarantine. David is crushed by that expectation. He throws his lot in with Cauldron, the cure-makers. The expectation is passed along to Noelle, and even though David can recognize that inheritance, he cannot imagine any other way to respond to it other than attempted murder.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that Flowers for Algernon is a tragedy. The reason that story has stuck with me so long is that I keep going back and forth as to why. Is it a tragedy because Charlie goes back to being disabled? There’s a good chance that’s what the author intended. I don’t know. It would be a pretty shitty story if that were the case. Is it a tragedy because people only treat Charlie well when he’s “cured,” and when that stops, he’ll go back to abuse? Seems plausible. I don’t think there’s one right answer. Regardless, when you’re disabled, there’s an immense pressure to seek out a cure, and a cognizable loss when it is withheld. The fact that Worm captures that social pressure and social loss so well is extremely compelling for me, and I’m going to be thinking about these characters for a long time.

#worm #parahumans #wormblr #eidolon #noelle meinhardt #any errors or omissions in this post are due to me reading interlude 27 like 3 hours ago #shoutout to tumblr user artbyblastweave for writing excellent eidolon meta that inspired this one #i would also give a shoutout to my friend who convinced me to read worm but i already shout at her enough. enjoy. thanks for the worms

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stxneflxwers · 7 months

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unpalatable.

⋯⁂ summary. suffering with disordered eating, you try your best to brush it off as being picky (as many others in your life have done before.) but, your beloved doesn't think it's mere pickiness anymore.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet post here; so im not really worried about small grammar errors, word count, formatting, or what have you. i just need to get this icky feeling off my mind, ok? for the record as well: i'm writing all of this on tumblr post editor and not in gdocs like i normally do. so there's gonna be things lacking compared to my normal, "formal" works.

⋯⁂ characters. neuvillette. zhongli. wriothesley. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader has disordered eating (this is different from eating disorders, pls read further about it online if you want/must!) reader has poor self-esteem. characters being very very sweet. fluff. might be some hurt/comfort and panic. reader's weight is NOT described. there might be occasional OOC moments, but i tried my best to avoid it lol.

neuvillette.

he doesn't think anything of it at first. he understands the life of being..."picky" as some so rudely put it. he prefers his foods very moisturized, any dryness can be too much for his senses at times (most of the time.) the texture when it comes to something dry or even spicy can be very unpleasant; he swears if he ate sandpaper, that's what it'd taste and feel like.

when he starts noticing the worse..."quirks" about your eating habits, he's not sure how to word his concerns to you. he gets around to it and he can only hope he isn't too horribly late about it. he isn't, but he feels like he's late to saying something anyway.

once you both talk it over, he's already helping out. even if he's not quite sure exactly what he's doing. he's the type to fill your head and heart with sweet reassurances and even sweeter praises for doing your best, his smiles are the sweetest treat of all when he tells you these things, though.

even if he's stiff or awkward about the subject and tackling the problem at the root, he's as supportive as he can be. although, don't mistake this support as letting you get away without eating for long periods of time. he can and will pester you frequently about whether you've properly ate (and hydrated) recently. do your best to not damage his lover, alright?

zhongli.

believe it or not, he entirely gets the feeling of uneasiness and the occasional nausea behind a lot of dishes. fish is his worst enemy, for starters. his species doesn't really require tons of food to live off of, unlike your average human. so, when he first started "indulging" in more human dishes, he soon discovered what a gag reflex was. he won't admit to it, but he really hated it back then.

of course, that was so many centuries ago. he's adjusted fine enough to more dishes these days. and when you tell him about your struggles with eating, you initially write it off as you being childish.

he thinks not.

he doesn't let you get away with calling yourself childish—or any sort of derogatory statement that spits out of your mouth.

his hand slides up to yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. and a promise that he'll do his absolute best to help you conquer these problems with food and eating. even when you start to branch out and eat a bit more than you usually do, he feels so proud of you.

he gives you a shining smile, a peck to the forehead, and holds your sweet, cute face with his big hands; while also filling your mind with praises and affirmations about how well you're doing so far. he loves you so dearly, don't push him away.

wriothesley.

you try your absolute best to hide it from him, the man who is maybe the least bothered by most foods. at least, the one man from fontaine, that is. he really doesn't care too much about what he's eating, as long as it's edible. call it a habit from being an orphan. of course, he has his preferences, but who doesn't?

so, when he catches you eating less or being a little too selective (he's observant enough, don't test him), he brings it up right away in private—he makes sure it's with only you two in the room. he'll ask if you're feeling sick or anything lately, promising you that sigewinne can help out.

when you skirt around the subject, he pouts just a little. it's enough to get you to break down in front of him. you call yourself some nasty things over being rather selective about food, feeling incompetent and weird compared to him.

and he really can't believe what he's hearing at first.

his icy eyes go wide and he blinks on repeat like a broken record. he's still registering what you just said about yourself—his darling cutie. he smiles bittersweetly and shakes his head, it's the most he can muster at first. he's still in disbelief.

your heart sinks into the depths of your gut at the response, burning alive and leaving behind literal heartburn in your throat. before you can leave the room, he scurries up behind you and wraps his arms around you, imprisoning you in the softest way.

he tells you he'll help out if you want it and allow him to, mentioning that he hates to see you suffer. he gives you a loving but tight squeeze (one that's perhaps a little suffocating.) he promises to you to help you suffer, at least, less than before.

he loves you too much to see you in any type of pain, external or internal.

you're a prisoner of your own mind while also a cruel warden to yourself. and if it's the last thing he'll ever do, he swears he'll change at least that much.

#🌠— my works #🌠— fluff #🌠— hurt/comfort #💕— multi #zhongli x reader #💕— zhongli #genshin x reader #💕— neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #💕— wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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catmelonwriting · 12 days

Note

Oohmygofd pleaaase plsplspls write bulimic reader... As some1 who's bulimic i will die if u do (positively)

BSD Men with a bulimic!reader

Warnings: Bulimia, not proofread, vomit type purging, very self inserted and based off my experiences, bad body image, reader is not underweight, hurt/comfort, a couple usages of (name) in akutagawa's bc I just can't see this man using pet names

Characters: Akutagawa, Chuuya

A/N: I'm sooo glad I'm not the only one who wanted this.. I was really hesitant to write it bc my blog is entirely smut and that usually does better than hurt/comfort, angst, or fluff, but if I'm not the only person who wants it I'm deffy gonna write it!! I don't really like Akutagawas I definitely didn't do him justice but I loveeeee chuuya's

Akutagawa

- Probably will not notice until you tell him.. just thinks you're sick or something when he hears coughing noises from the bathroom.

- From then on he's really concerned, he'll probably do a lot of research on it (w/o you knowing ofc)

- Will try and get you into treatment, even just IOP, but if you refuse HE is going to monitor everything your eating

- If you do end up binging in the middle of the night or while he's not there, the bathroom is off limits for the next 45 minutes.

- He will literally stand in the way of the doorway if you try to go, he's not risking anything.

- If you try not to eat too much the next day to 'make up for it' he'll sit with you while you eat and give you encouraging words here and there, but neither of you are getting up till your finished.

One shot

You're kneeled over the bathroom toilet, the back of a toothbrush nudging your throat, when you let out a loud gag. You immediately take the toothbrush out and cover your mouth.. you had learned to be so quiet after akutagawa found out about your eating disorder, how could you let that happen?

You hear footsteps approaching the bathroom door before three short knocks. "Yeah, Ryū?" You ask, your voice was raspy and you sounded like you had been crying. Fuck, he knows.

"..(Name) are you alright? Are you doing something you shouldn't?" His voice was sharp, like he was angry. You knew he wasn't, you knew he would never be angry at your for something like this.. just.. upset, but you can't help the guilt that courses through your body at his words.

"No." You choke out, shuffling to shove the toothbrush back in the holder. "I heard gagging." You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the rasp. "Um.. I wasn't. Just coughing. I'm not feeling well." You call out, quickly flushing your thrown up dinner down the toilet. "I'll be out in a second."

You dig in the drawers for your perfume, air freshener, dry shampoo, anything you can spray to cover up the smell of your throw up, but you couldn't find anything. So you hesitantly clean your hands and leave the bathroom with the overwhelming smell of vomit filling it.

"Hey, love." You mumble, sitting down next to him on the couch, your voice shaky. "..(Name), don't lie to me. I know what you were doing." He mumbles, placing his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. You blink back tears as you push your face into his chest. "Im sorry.. I'm so so sorry.. I didn't mean to.. I didn't.." you choke out, sniffling.

"Don't apologize to me, dear. I'm not mad, or even upset. Just.. concerned. You told me you would stop." His voice sounded sympathetic, something you weren't used to with him. The smell of cigarette smoke hung on your jacket, a scent you had grown to love and found comforting since meeting him. The way his lanky, boney, ring covered fingers glided through your hair, his soft voice, it all comforted you, it all told you it was okay to cry.

His heart ached at the little gasps and sniffles and whimpers you let out whilst sobbing into his chest. It made him want to start bawling with you, but of course he wouldn't. He could never appear weak to you. "I'm sorry- I'm so sorry Ryu- I just can't stop- I can't stop no matter how hard I try.." you sob, hands moving to cling onto the fabric of his shirt. "I'm so sorry!"

"Oh baby.." he sighed. You didn't want to look up, you know he's looking down with pity. Pity you didn't want. "It's alright. I don't want you to cry, it's not your fault.. I understand- well, no, I don't. I don't understand, but I want to help you." Wrapping his arms around you, he leans into your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose.

That's where you two lay for the rest of your night, him whispering comforting words in your ears, giving you all the love you could ever ask for, something you'd never expect from a man like him.

Chuuya

- He notices within the first month of FRIENDSHIP

- The way you get up and scurry off to the bathroom after every meal you share, the guilt on your face after grabbing a third serving at the party you two are at, how quick you shove shit down your throat before tears well up in your eyes and you excuse yourself.. all of it.

- He definitely cares, but probably won't confront you about it till later on in the friendship if you're still having trouble

- He won't just send you a lousy "have you been eating properly?" Text either, he's gonna invite you over to his house making it known you two are gonna have a serious conversation, then sit you down in his living room then prod and probe till you admit it.

- If you're still struggling w/ it when you're dating/when you move in together (which you probably are bc eds are harsh) he'll be like Akutagawa and monitor everything you eat, just a little more stealthily

- He is not afraid to tell you to slow down if you seem to be overeating.. he takes the binging just as seriously as the purging.

Oneshot

You had awakened in the middle of the night with a need for food. Anything you could get your hands on you needed inside of you asap.

You quickly and carefully slipped out of his arms and out of bed, tip toeing to the kitchen and flicking the light on. The first thing you see is a brand new box of cereal you had bought today, Chuuya hadn't had it in awhile, it was his favorite as a kid and he seemed happy while buying it. Guilt tote through you when you ripped open the box and shuffled handfuls into your mouth, before discarding the half empty box on the ground.

You reached for the cake you two had made for your birthday last week, taking fistfuls with your bare hands and shoving the icing covered cake in your mouth.

After shoving everything in vicinity down your throat, you open the fridge to find a diet coke, or a regular, just anything with bubbles.. anything with carbonation to help you get this all up better. Anything. Your eyes land on an energy drink you had bought yesterday.. you were saving it for today, but in your eyes you needed it now.

You crack it open and glug it down, before looking at the mess you made on the floor. Empty boxes, half eaten cake, a carton of half eaten cookies, an empty bowl that was previously filled with salad, an empty milk carton.. you felt sick to your stomach. You needed this out of you now. Now.

You quietly tip toe to the bathroom, turning off the kitchen lights behind you and locking the door behind you, kneeling on the ground in front of the toilet. You hated doing this, you hated how gross you felt hovering over something where your ass went.. but you needed it gone. You couldn't gain weight.. you already felt so fat as it is no matter how much chuuya tried to convince you you're average.. you just couldn't believe it. Looking in the mirror all you could see was piles of fat.

You push the back of your toothbrush down your throat, gagging almost silently as the first few things came up. You recognized some chocolate, veggies, something.. red.. you didn't want to think about it too much as you shoved the toothbrush back down your throat. You watched as everything you ate came up opposite to the order you had it in.

Finally, you recognize barely chewed lumps of cereal fall into the toilet, and after you throw up stomach acid mixed with dark blood, you sigh, wipe your mouth and stand up, flushing the toilet, and clean yourself up.

Walking out of the bathroom, you see the kitchen lights on. Fuck. You could've sworn you turned those off.

Your ginger haired boyfriend turns the corner from the kitchen, looking you dead in the eyes with disappointment on his face. You wished you could just evaporate. "Love, what is this?" He sounded.. exasperated. Tired of you, tired of your illness, tired of having a girlfriend who can't just eat normally. You were tired of it too, but the Internet made recovery seem so much easier than it really was.

Tears flow out of your eyes as you wipe the remaining spit dribbling from your mouth away. "Did you throw up?" He sighs.. you can't tell if he's being sympathetic or if he's annoyed. Maybe both. All you can muster is a nod before you fall into his chest, letting out broken sobs and choking out apologies. From where you are you can glance into the kitchen, noticing he had cleaned up the little mess you made.

God, not only did he have to deal with such an emotional, disordered girlfriend.. he had to clean up after you too? You felt like such a terrible person, like you didn't deserve his love.

"Cmon, sweetie, let's go to bed. Let me tuck you in." He mutters sleepily. "Don't apologize.. don't apologize, it's not your fault. You know I'm not mad." His whispers comfort you and make you feel worse at the same time, you didn't understand it. "I'm not mad, just worried. I could never be mad at you." He speaks softly, nudging you towards the open door of your bedroom.

You whimper and sniffle as he tucks you into bed, before getting back in himself and wrapping his arms around your waist. He leans in, whispering sweet nothing's in your ear, tracing shapes in your hip, telling you you're beautiful and it'll all be okay until you fall asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Chuuya isn't there. He must've gone to work already. You see a small note on the bedside table next to you, and hesitantly pick it up to read its contents.

"Hey doll, I'm sorry I left for work before we could talk about this in-person, and I definitely have a plan to speak to you about it tonight. But I wanted to let you know I'm not mad at you, nor am I upset with you, I'm just concerned for your well-being and safety. I want to get you into some treatment program because I'm not trained in this, and I don't really know how to help. I know this isn't entirely about your weight or how your body looks, but baby believe me when I say you're beautiful. You are the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid my eyes on and I am so lucky to have you. You are not 'too much' and your emotional baggage is not too much for me to carry. Even if it was, it's worth it for a girl as sweet and caring as you.

Love, Chuuya"

You hold the note close to your chest and push yourself backwards into bed, draping the covers over yourself and falling back asleep with his letter held close.

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unluckilyimnot · 2 months

Note

Hello^^can I please ask for headcannons with izana, mikey, baji and ran with reader who has eating disorder (like cassie from skins:( ) please don't do this if you're not comfortable

S/o with ed

Characters : Izana, Mikey, Ran

Type : angst, hurt to comfort

Words count : 0.8

It’s fine, I can write about it, it’s just the same as an old one I did : I speak as a girl who experienced it in a certain way (which is not as “hard” as Cassie) so I’ll do my best and I don’t mean any hurt it can cause. If you’re struggling with ed we can talk about it if you feel like it, but at least don’t hesitate to talk about it. You can get through it even if it’s hard (I did but I’m not cured at all)

I love you, take care of yourself and people around you ♡

Izana noticed quickly how you start to eat less and less. He cooks for you both the most and he can’t help but notice how a picky eater you’ve slowly become until eating barely enough to go on. As a small eater himself, he gets more and more worried when you start eating less than him. He knows you’ve never really been comfortable with your body and so, losing weight isn’t a bad idea if you feel like it’s what you need.

Yet, it got out of hand when he finally noticed your showing ribs even when you’re not stretching or breathing out. He sees them a little too much to his liking.

“You can’t go on like this.” he pointed out one day, during a meal. You haven’t touched your plate and you gulped at his words. “It’s not too much,” he added, pointing to your plate, “you’ll have to learn to eat again now.” he paused, waiting for your answer that is never coming. “It’s ok to be a small eater, but not to not eat at all.”

You clenched your jaw. As if you don’t know it well enough. As if you could just eat like that after all this time. His words hurt you more than anything, you thought he would understand.

“I know it’s hard, you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Darling what do you think ? Have you seen me ? Isn’t it obvious enough ?” You looked at him, thinking about his habits a bit more and the way he looks before it hit you. Your eyes water, you were too focused on yourself to notice him, to even realize.

“We’re in this together.” he said with a smile.

Mikey doesn’t notice. All he noticed is that you’re not eating with him anymore. You go out with him but don’t ask for a bit anymore, nor do you take something for yourself. He doesn’t understand and sadly doesn’t know either how to handle it.

“Why aren’t you taking anything ?” he pouted, almost refusing to eat if you don’t.

“I’m simply not hungry Mikey, it’s fine, eat!”

“You’re never hungry lately !” It sounds more like a tantrum than anything else honestly and you can’t help but lie about it.

“I eat well enough at home, don’t worry. I’m just trying to lose weight lately.”

“What ? No !” you can hear him pouted. “I like you the way you are, I’ll be sad if you lose weight. It wouldn’t feel the same when I’ll hold you. I hate to think about it.”

He was so pure in his words, you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

“I’ll try not to lose too much then.” So you lied again, but seeing his smile was more than enough.

Ran is more than aware of what this is. You sleep too much. He does too, he knows that, but you always seem exhausted. Your skin is dry and almost gray. At first he checked your temperature for a few days, on those when it hit hard. Then he started to look at your activities, you still have to go to uni and stuff, maybe that’s what makes you this irritated. You don’t laugh much these days.

Finally, he started to look out for what you eat and he was met with the terrible truth that you’re not, and that’s probably what’s causing all of that. He has rough memories with that, and he wishes to not live them one more time.

“My love,” he purred into your ear, holding you from behind while you’re cutting some fruits.

“Yeah ?”

“Are you gonna eat more than that ?” You froze in his arms, not knowing what to say. “Would you share some ramen with me ? You don’t have to eat much, just something else other than an apple.”

“Ran I –”

“You know, it happened to my mom,” he cut you. He understands your side, but he wants you to understand his as well. “She was really sick because of this. And well, you know the end,” he snuggles his nose in your neck. “I don’t want this to happen to you.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s easier said than done and you don’t even wanna get better, not now, not now that it’s working and you’re close to your goal. Not now that –

“So, would you ?” but you can’t say no to him. And it’s not too much right. It’s just this time.

“Yeah, ok but just a few bites.”

“Right, I don’t want you to be sick.” he smiled against your skin. “Thank you. I love you”

I skipped baji sorry I hope it’s not your fav, I didn’t have an idea sniff. Mikey’s one is a little simple but young mikey is pure and rather simple minded at first.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers hc #izana imagines #izana x reader #izana x you #izana headcanons #mikey headcanon #mikey imagines #mikey x reader #ran haitani #ran headcanons #ran x reader #ran imagines

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starlightdreaming · 1 month

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Lucifer x Fem!Reader!

Content warning: ANGST TO FLUFF! :3 REALISTIC themes of REALITY (FROM MY PERSPECTIVE) this is a vent fic but I added my delusions of fluff for comfort, theres slight starvation of oneself (eating disorders right?) (this fic been in the back of my head all week)

(this MADE ME CRY WHILE WRITING I KID YOU NOT)

Synopsis: dealing with reality isn’t easy for anyone, upon walking home one day, you found a mirror, hoping you could sell the mirror for some cash, you discovered something money can’t buy… happiness.

(im craving for fluff)

making a one shot for my delusions

(the song that supported my delusions)

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭*Dancing within the mirror* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Your life wasn’t very pleasing to live, hell, life wasn’t pleasing to live at all, all the stress and endurance was so tiring, going to school, day in, day out was the least of your worries after you graduated.

Every kid has always said, “I can’t wait to grow up and do my own things!” at least once. once.

Now that you are an adult, nothing was as it seemed when you were younger. Yeah, you can do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it but it came with a price.. and that price was money.

Without money, you couldn’t do anything you dreamed of doing, without money, you couldn’t afford the things you even wanted- and to get anything you wanted, you had to get a ‘job.’ it’s the balance of life some say, but to you? it was control, it wasn’t about what you want or what you get, it’s all about having you work for the… them.

those people. the 1% some would call them.

Your mind deteriorated more and more from just not living anymore, just surviving.. you work, get the money, pay your taxes, pay your bills: your car, your electricity, your water, food, housing, insurance- everything.

You sat on the edge of your bed in your cold dark room, the moonlight twinkling in, it’s luminous rays escaping through the curtains at the window, you laid your head down crying and stressed, you can’t continue to survive like this, you just wanted to live.

You watch old shows and movies for comfort, wishing life would never change and forever stay the same, you wanted the world to stop revolving so you can just breathe. You watch cartoons and such, cause it seems they are living much happier than you ever will. Your mind always drifted off to just one day, you can lay in the grass and listen to the soft winds, the trees and grass rustling, dancing together as one with the wind.

You drew characters of your own, characters from your favorite shows and wrote everything your mind would drift off to, to cope with the bleak life that you had.

Sometimes, you wish reality could just.. shift, like if you wanted to live in your comfort characters universe? you could just poof! and then be there, talking for however long you wanted.

You sighed as you turned off your device, going to bed, too tired to do anything due to fatigue from nine hours of labor, you tucked yourself in, playing soft music to help you sleep with some sort of comfort, you closed your eyes to await another lifeless day of nothingness.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

Another exhausting day at work, you walk home, your car broke down for the nth time, knowing how corrupt reality is, it was intentional by the people who you got it from. Another bill to be paid, just to get your car fixed, just to work more, pay more, just to feed them.

You barely made it through the monthly payments, saving enough to pay them all off but not enough to feed you. You silently walked in the grass, no sidewalks to be seen cause everyone used cars nowadays, never their feet and it made the people who are supposed to run the country (or states), neglect their ideals that they offered the people.

You sighed, exhausted, walking for a whole hour, you decided to rest. You worked nine hours that day, walking endlessly and now you’re here, walking home. You pulled a bottle of water you had with you from your pocket, taking a sip to refreshen yourself, it was less half than empty but it was enough for you to be hydrated for your next other hour you had to walk home. When you drive to work, it’s only eight minutes but walking? it was fifteen times longer.

You got up to your feet to walk again, stuffing the empty plastic bottle into your pocket to find a place to dispose it, not wanting to litter the earth than it already has been from neglectful people who could care less where their trash goes.

Walking past a dumpster, you neared your destination to home, you tried to put in the bottle but as you did, you saw something glimmering in your eyes, you took a second glance at what was shining in the dumpster, there, you see the sun reflecting off a mirror- but not just any mirror, a beautiful one. It looked old and antique but it was so mesmerizing to look at, it had unique designs, embedded with gold, at the top of the mirror, sat an apple, a white snake wrapped around it, it was in quite good condition, not even the glass was cracked, ‘who would throw such beauty away?’ you thought, you wanted to take it home but you hesitated, wouldn’t you look like a hobo if you were to jump in to get it?

You looked in all directions, seeing if anyone was watching, when the coast was clear, you jumped in to get it, trying your best to reach it, without falling in. After a few seconds to a minute or so, you managed to get out scot-free, holding the mirror with both hands, you looked at the distinctive details more closely, it really looked at shiny as gold, you couldn’t tell if it was, you were no genius to know, nor did you have the knowledge to know, all you knew it was dirty from the grime in the dump, it definitely needed a cleaning.

You held the heavy glass carefully, walking down your neighborhood to your home, you put it down gently next to your front door, trying to get your keys to unlock it, when you did, you happily tuck your keys into you pocket, picking up the mirror and walking inside.

The moment you got this mirror, you thought about how it could benefit you, ‘could maybe clean it and then put it on sale at an antique shop or mall?’ you thought, hoping to grab a bit of money to help you probably get something eat for once other than toast and cereal.

You put the mirror in your bathroom tub, getting towels and wipes to carefully remove the dirt from the lined details, sticking your nail covered by the wipe, to chalk the dirt out from deep corners, after a bit, you washed it off carefully with water, holding it gently as to not let it fall and shatter, you turned off the water, grabbing a towel to carefully dry it, not wanting to accidentally scratch the glass somehow.

You took the mirror to your room, holding it with both hands, you sat it down to the ground, making it lean against the wall, you stretched before you took off your work clothes, deciding you wanted to shower after today, I mean, after walking endlessly for two hours at work (not to mention the additional two hours, walking home), and dumpster diving? You definitely could use one. You began collecting comfy clothes to relax in, digging through your drawers, you got just a tee and some shorts and an extra pair of undergarments, you took your clothes, grabbed a towel and left to the bathroom, leaving the mirror alone in the dimly sunlit room.

While you cleaned yourself, unbeknownst to you, the mirror flickered in and out bright yellow auras, the little dust and dusk of yellow floated around the mirror like fireflies, it was glowing at that point, bright yellow, the gold designs that traced around the mirror began to glow as well, and it immediately went out as you entered your room, a towel on your head, you sighed as you jumped into bed, digging out your work clothes that you left on your bed to grab your phone, you tossed your clothes to the side as you laid back down, scrolling through what-not to distract yourself from the loathing pain of loneliness in your life.

From evening to dusk, you blinked lazily, tired of scrolling on social media for hours, you continued to do so until you stopped at a video, a video that was quite a little too relatable. You thought that - that’s when you know it’s time to put the phone down, it’s enough internet for the day, You plugged in your phone, placing it on the night stand.

You shifted under the covers, bringing your pillow to your chest to hold it, hugging it tightly as if it were to ever be your significant other, knowing full well that - that one day, will never come… but it doesn’t hurt to imagine it right?

You hugged the pillow tightly, nuzzling your face in it, looking at the mirror that faced your bed, you laid there silently, feeling the loneliness get to you again, the clock ticking in your room as you waited for sleep to consume you, you closed your eyes, resting your head in the pillow you held, before falling asleep. As you slept, the mirror began to glow again, the same golden aura surrounded it, little small dots of light floating around it again, the light began to glow more, the longer you slept, the small dots of light danced in the air, eventually making it to your bed, the small dots of light gently touched your skin, one even kissed your nose, it made your face scrunch as you scratched it, removing the tickling feeling in your sleep, you then turn the other direction of your bed, faced away from the mirror, the lights backed away from you, like curious little fireflies, they floated around you once again, raining golden dust onto your head as if it were sandman, raining sand onto your head, gifting you the night of pure lofty dreams.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

You groaned as the morning light from the sun entered the room, waking you up from your dreams, it wasn’t often when you dreamed, usually they’d be nightmares or just plain weird.

You sat up on your bed, rubbing your eyes to wipe the sleep off them, you yawn as you shifted to slide off your bed, walking past the mirror to leave your room, with a quick glance while walking past it, it showed a different person in your reflection, you paused, you stepped back to look again, now puzzled, did you see that right? You look back at the mirror, seeing your reflection perfectly fine, you shook the thought off, thinking it was just you not being fully awake and your eyes were just messing with you, you left your room after that, not thinking anything further about it.

You brushed your teeth, brushed your hair, anything and everything needed to start the day, you grabbed your work clothes and your phone, glancing at the mirror again before taking a photo of it, later deciding to post it on the internet to see if anyone was willing to buy it. You left your house, locking the door, awaiting another repetitive day of your life… wasting away.

You had woke early for a reason, without your car (and the inability to afford an uber, nor risk spending any money), you had to walk to work, it was going to be a long exhausting day but that’s just life, the imbalance of it from what you could see at least.

After a long day of work, the painful exhaustion of walking home, you opened your door, dreadfully, today was worst than the last, you sighed as you went straight to your room, taking your work clothes off and jumping straight to bed, crying.

You curled up in your bed, grabbing your pillow to hold as comfort as you silently sobbed, the sun, slowly fading away from the room, dusking out that the day was nearly gone. You didn’t bother how hungry you felt, you just wanted to cry yourself to sleep, your co-workers were more aggressive today towards you, tripping you and telling you how you don’t seem to put more effort into you job as they do, it even got to the point where they’d report you to the manager, it was only worse when the manager actually believed them! You’d end up being scolded by your boss, not even he tried to listen to your side of the story, making this all the much worse to endure. You wanted to cry at work, you did during all of your lunch break, you spent the whole time crying silently in the restroom, forgetting to get at least something to eat during your time.

You just wished this whole nightmare could be over, you barely had time for your mental health, not to mention the time to do anything else to cope with the repetitiveness of reality either. You cried yourself to sleep that night, not the first of your many rests. It was however, noticed by the mirror you seemed to have forgotten about.

The mirror shimmered softly with light, the same as it did last night, unaware of it’s presence of magic, the light reached your bed, alluring you with comfort as you rested, dots of light danced around your exhausted body, giving you sweet dreams as it did last time, you smiled in your sleep, dreams overflowing in your subconscious as you slept, your body seemed more relaxed when the light tended and touched you, draining the soreness out your body, hoping you’d wake up feeling much better.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

More often than not, you’d wake up exhilarated and refreshed from the nights before, it bothered you at first but you adjusted to it rather quickly, seeing as you always felt bursted with energy, you could take on the day and go home like you just went through hell to just sleep and wake up feeling alright again. You still haven’t had gotten any responses on anything about the mirror in your room, no one willing to offer for it, it just sat in your room collecting dust, it had been like about a month or so by now, your depressed mind never really bothered with time anymore, seeing as it was pointless, nothing really changes in your life, you don’t even bother with holidays, seeing as there was no one to celebrate with.

After many times and days going through the same thing, you crashed onto the floor in your room, laying next to the mirror. You couldn’t bother getting up into bed this time, everything just felt so tolling, your co-workers were at it again, excusing themselves with how they had families to take care of and you didn’t, they hated how you got paid the same as they did, expecting you to be rich or something by now. You hugged yourself on the floor that night, crying once again, you were facing the direction of the mirror, ignoring it in your vast of self loathing.

You just wished and craved for affection from someone, anyone, just something, anything to stop the pain you felt inside your heart but that would never come, no one cared for you as you hoped that one day they would, you fell asleep on the floor that night, crying yourself to sleep once again, no different than all the other nights that shared the same.

An emitting aura glowed softly again from the mirror, amongst your sleep, brighter than all the times than the last, this time, it didn’t try to comfort you in your sleep, no, this time, it was trying to wake you, wanting you see what it held within itself, the dots of light kissed your face, their bright auras bringing you to wake, you opened your eyes, curious from what the light source was, you sat up from the floor rubbing your eye, “what the..” you say as you blink awake now, you see the mirror glowing with a golden aura, you were bewildered from such a thing being able to happen.

You looked into the mirror before backing away, your reflection making you gasp in shock, you slowly leaned into the mirrors view, looking at your reflection again, it was so different than what you actually looked like, you looked more… demonic? it was creepy, it made your skin crawl, the light that was doting on you, floated around you, catching your attention. You raised your hand out, the little light landing in your hand, you looked and admired its radiance before it flew up and towards the mirror, going straight into it, “wha…” you said rather quietly im confusion and curiosity, the mirror glass sending waves against itself like a water drop landing into water.

You hesitated, you weren’t sure what to do in this situation, when you first got this mirror- you didn’t expect it to be fucking magical!

The mirror calmly whispered a tune, alluring you, you looked at your reflection again, it going from your human self to something else.. You reached your hand out to the mirror, touching the glass but when you did, your hand phased through it, you pulled your hand back in surprise as you watched the mirror glass ripple from movement, you shifted closer to the mirror, the golden light being the only thing that lit up your room in the dead of night.

You put your hand through the glass again, feeling more calm about it, seeing as it was safe, you smiled in fascination, it wasn’t long before someone or something grabbed your hand on the other end, you tried to pull away but it held your writ tightly, you saw a hand hold onto you, covered in black and claws that looked sharp as knives, it pulled you through as your yelp in shock and fear, closing you eyes as you expected to endure some sort of pain coming your way but you didn’t feel any, you felt the warmth of someone’s chest, your hand in theirs, his other on your back, ensuring your safety through the glass.

“Greetings, little duckling.” The man coo’d, you look up to the stranger who caught your fall in confusion, your eyes widened when you realized it was your major comfort character currently, the devil himself: Lucifer. You pushed yourself away from embarrassment, trying to look at your surroundings, seeing as you were in a massive ball room, the tiles on the floor were shining gold as the stairs were cloaked with red, “where am I?” you panic, looking at your body, seeing as your color was different and your body was less humane, “what is happening?” you ask, startled, looking at Lucifer.

He walked closer to you, “hey, it’s okay, you’re safe here, I won’t hurt you,” he reassured as he reached his hand out, patiently waiting for you to take it, you gave yourself a moment to breathe, trying to process everything, you looked at him as he smiled comfortingly at you, waiting patiently for you to take his hand, before long, you took his hand, he leaned toward your hand kissing it gently, a surge of golden light looming from the kiss to around your body. You blinked in surprise and look at your body, clothes had been changed from your work attire to something more extravagant and elegant, you were suddenly wearing a ball gown, you picked up a piece of the fabric of the dress, looking closely at the details it withheld.

“Through that mirror of yours, i’ve been watching you,” he says as he stands up straight again, holding your hand in his, you looked at him, slightly uncomfortable from that statement, his eyes widened at realization as he turned away before scratching his neck, “I mean- I don’t mean in a weird way- like- I was- I just-“ he sighed in defeat, unable to explain his situation correctly, “It’s not what it seems,” he attempts again, looking at you with soft eyes, “it’s just- that mirror is a portal, it’s a portal that only one side could see from, I don’t even have control where it goes but-“ He trails off, “look,” he says, taking both your hands now as you stare at him, patiently waiting for him to fully give you his explanation, “It was something I made long ago,” he attempts again, “I left it on earth for centuries but I still had access to it, from one end I mean.” he pauses as he turns both of you toward the portal, his hand trailing across the glass, changing the location on the other end, you watched with your mouth a-gap, in awe from how surreal this all was.

“I watched many humans through this mirror, good and bad,” he says as he shows many past memories the mirror seemed to hold, “It’s the only thing I have that shows the good in humanity… sometimes.” he says as he cracks a side smile, hoping you aren’t weirded out too much by the whole ordeal.

Letting go of Lucifer’s hand, you lifted both hands to your chest, intertwining your hands together as you walked toward the portal mirror, “so you’re saying..” you spoke as you stared at the glass, “I have a magical mirror in my room?” You ask, turning to him, your dress swaying as you turned, “yeah,” he smiles in relief that you aren’t panicking as he was, “we could go with that.” he says as he walked to you again, “I watched all the nights you cried..” he began as he looked away from your gaze, “I saw how much pain you endured everyday, it was obvious in your eyes and…” he explains to you, his demeanor changing to nervousness as he avoided your gaze, “I tried to make your nights better as you slept, hoping you’d wake up, feeling like your days would be better.” he confesses with a awkward smile on his face as he showed you the golden light in his hands, resembling the same as the light you saw glowing around the mirror in your room.

“So you’re the reason behind why I always felt better in the morning?” You ask, expecting he would confirm your answer, “Yeah.” he admits, rubbing his neck again, you walk up to him, taking his hands in yours as you raised both your hands up together with a smile and a, “thank you.” Lucifer eyes sparkled as he felt a flutter in his stomach, he sort of expected you to panic or something but this was way better, he smiled at you softly, “I saw you crying earlier, worse than ever before,” he says emphatically, he placed of your gloved hands on his shoulder, the other one held with his, his hand was placed gently on your waist as he leaned towards you, “so I thought maybe this time,” he pauses, turning you to a different direction and dipping you gracefully, “I could make your dreams a reality.” he spoke with an ever graceful smile, doting on your beauty.

Your eyes widened in wonderment as he began to move on his own, “wait- I can’t dance-“ you try to exclaim but your feet moved on your own as well, “don’t worry my dove,” he says as he looks at you with that sparkle in his eyes again, “I got you covered on that, just enjoy it, like a dream.” he comforts you, his voice soft and alluring.

He snapped his fingers and you saw a set of ducks with bow ties and orchestrated instruments appearing with them, they sat between the open space of the stairs, “fond of ducks, i see?” you ask, giving him a sided glance with a smile, he rolls his eyes playfully before taking your hands into his again, “not as fond as I am with you tonight,” he says back, smirking playfully as he guides you towards the center of the ballroom, “you’re absolutely stunning tonight.”

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

(prolly too dramatic but it was making me go insane while writing this (fluff is my kryptonite))

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

A melody began to play in the background as you let Lucifer take the lead, looking at him in awe, entranced by his charms and his smile.

He spun with you around the ball room, your dress flowing behind every move you done, you looked at your dress in wonderment, you then looked back at Lucifer who was still giving you doe eyes. You had your mouth opened slightly, still processing that this was actually happening… and with Lucifer of all people.

Watching and feeling every shift both your bodies had made, you both move left and right in circles, you yelped softly in surprise when you began to spin, one of his hands still in yours, bringing you back to him to waltz across the massive golden ballroom, you looked at him again as he gave you a toothy grin, making you smile in pure delight from this dream.

It wasn’t long until golden light began to ignite under his feet, each step he took left a trail of golden luminescence, ducks soon flipped up from under ground as if they went under water to collect food to eat, they swam across the ballroom floor as you both stared into each others eyes, lost within the melody.

You looked down at your own feet in amazement, your own steps were leaving a trail of golden light, those golden trails soon grew into buds that blossomed into lotus flowers, the flowers slowly drifted across the floor, gracefully, like they floated above water. You were mesmerized in such beauty of magic, it wasn’t long until you felt a hand trace under your chin, bringing your gaze back to Lucifer, “eyes on me, my darling.” he says with a soft smile, bringing his hand back into yours.

You felt flustered from his gesture as he sprouted out his wings, all in their grace and beauty, you looked away again as you heard him chuckle a light laugh at your reaction, he closed his eyes as he soaked in the moment, spinning you around again before bringing you in, your attention came back to him as he opened his eyes to look at you, you began to feel light, you looked away for the third time, you saw yourself floating in the air with Lucifer, you looked back at him in a little worry but it quickly vanished away as his gaze comforted you, “I got you.” he says, knowing what was running through your mind.

The golden light still trailed after you both, the ducks and lotus flowers floating up with you both in unison, you were so dazed by how pleasant you felt, your eyes locking with Lucifers, you both leaned into each other, your heads touching, closing your eyes as you began to relax and enjoy the moment, everything feeling so perfect.

You both danced in the air in sync, your steps finally moving as your own, adjusted to the dance, he reeled you out, you spinning out before spinning back in, back into his arms, his wings feathers fluttered gently as you danced in circles, in and out, left and right.

You both leaned out, hands locked as you laughed lightly, making him smile even more that you are enjoying your time with him, he brought you in before spinning you once again, back to him again before dipping you gently, ensuring you won’t fall from his grasp, his eyes were in awe as you smiled, your smile is all he wanted to see after seeing you cry so many endless nights.

He drifted you both back down, the golden lit ducks and flowers following you both as you both twirled around, heading towards the mirror, a trail of ducks and flowers blooming from you both, when you reached the mirror, he dipped you again with one hand this time, his other hand caressing your hair, a soft golden glow luminously flowed in your hair before he gently cupped your face, “until next time, mon chérie.” Lucifer says with a smile and loving eyes, kissing your head lovingly before pushing you carefully into the mirror.

You sit up quickly waking up, the sun shining through your curtains into the bedroom, you looked at your hands, your skin color back to normal, your ball gown gone, ‘it was all a dream.’ you thought, only to frown, believing it was too good to be true, you looked at the mirror on the floor, leaning on the wall as it had always been, you looked at it curiously, you threw the covers to the side, shifting out of bed to walk to it, you picked it up, seeing that your reflection was completely normal, however, a golden lotus laid in your hair, confirming that maybe, it wasn’t a dream after all…

You heard a ‘ding’ on your phone, catching your attention, you put the mirror on your bed carefully, grabbing your phone to look at the notification.

- Hey, that’s a beautiful mirror! It looks super old! antique even! How about $1,500 for it?

You smiled at the notification, that was enough for you to pay most of your bills for this month, you left a response before putting your phone back on your nightstand, picking up the mirror and leaving the room.

- Sorry but I decided not to sell it, thank you for your time though. :]

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ •✧

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#lucifer morningstar #character x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #character x oc #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin lucifer #bestie i hope you cry like i did #lucifer x reader angst #lucifer x reader fluff #Spotify #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x reader #character x y/n

176 notes · View notes

seeingteacupsindragons · 2 months

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Aro Week 2024: Let's Talk About the Limits of Representation

A lot of the discussion around writing marginalized identities comes down to one thing: representation. Representation in the books versus the authors, what the representation looks like, the variety of representation, what representation is present and allowed, what diversity is there and what isn’t.

For aro week, I want to talk about how limited that is for aro (and ace) people. Because the thing about representation is that to be exist beyond Word of God, it’s got to be discussed in the text. And that means romance (or sex, for ace people, but while I’m ace, and most of this is going to cross-apply, this post is for aro week so this is just a global note) has to be discussed in the text.

But a lot of time what I want as an aro person is to just not have to think about it. I think in general I’ve seen similar sentiments expressed across marginalized groups: we always have to think about our differences, and it’s a mental load and burden that other people don’t have to deal with. And as an aro writer and reader, a lot of the time what I want, and what most allows me to lay down that burden is to just not have romance in the damn thing. It’s hard to figure out how to write sometimes, it’s something I have to mentally keep in mind while I read.

While I go through life in general, I often just…forget it’s a thing. I forget when Valentine’s Day is often. I forget that people are normally dating. I forget people want to discuss with their romantic partners when making plans with friends. I forget they want to go everywhere as a group. I forget things look like dates. My life is one in which romance is rarely a factor unless imposed on it by outside forces. It’s not relevant.

But if I write that for characters, or for readers, a place where romance is not just imposed on their mind, the characters aren’t actually…aro. A story in which romance, romantic attraction, or interest in such things never comes up is one in which no character is canonically disinterested in or not in possession of such thing. It’s one which has no moments of obvious recognition of the aro experience or joyous bursts.

It’s a story in which, “Eh, they could or couldn’t be attracted. It never came up, so anything is valid because nothing is canon.”

The definition of being aro might lie in not experiencing romantic attraction. And sure, the character might not. But this is fiction. Not reality. And in reality, aro people’s experiences are more than the dictionary. People have relationships to romance and attraction and interactions with the concept are often recognizable and definitional. No real person can live without interacting with romance and attraction, and those relationships to it are as definitional and important to being aro or being gay or being straight or bi or whatever as the dictionary definition is.

Characters don’t have to interact with it. I’ve said romance isn’t relevant to my life as an aro person much of the time. If romance isn’t relevant to a character’s story—well, lots of things aren’t relevant to stories we assume are happening, like…most bathroom trips, or meals, or menstruation. A character isn’t representing an eating disorder because they’re never shown eating: it’s more complicated than that.

Being aro is more complicated than that.

A story in which character relationships wholly rely on and depend on something other than romance, a story where character relationships are undefinable and not attempted to be defined but only described and developed, a story in which characters and societies and people exist outside the omnipresent framework of romance inherently comes from a place of aroness and the aro experience. It speaks most to that place.

Most people who experience romantic attraction are often thinking about it. A story without such things is one which is lacking something they’re looking for and expecting, not a story where everything proceeds as usual without being interrupted by Oh, Yeah, That.

So, then, if alloromantic people will notice something is Different and aro people might seek it out, this way of writing around romance because it’s not relevant to the story the way it is not relevant to my life needs to be framed in the metatext so people, aro and alloro alike, know what to expect and what they’re getting into.

But when all talk about marginalized stories comes down to “What Types of Characters Are Here?” and “What Culture Is This World Based On?” there’s this empty space to explain stories like mine.

There’s so many things to the aro experience that don’t revolve around rejecting romance. But if you ever look for an aro story about something else, how can you even find it? It’s so difficult to talk about an aro story that isn’t Representative and exists in a way you don’t even have to think about it and there are no smooth bumps to remind you of yourself so you can immerse into it that…I think people forget stories like that can even exist.

#writing #aromantic #arotag #actually aromantic #aro #aromanticism #Aro Week #Aromantic Awareness Week #Aromantic Week #Aro week 2024

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belokhvostikova · 10 months

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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 𝐖𝐚��𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 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

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