#life and times of a blind optimist

[wallacepolsom]

Wallace Polsom, Life and Times of a Blind Optimist: Art Appreciation (15 Feb 2024), paper collage, 23 x 29.6 cm.

[lovelyverosika]

The winner takes it all…the loser has to fall

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 2 —> Part 1

Warnings: suicide & death

A/N: I wanted to say thank you for all the love on my first fanfic<3 Tbh I never planned a part two since I didn’t expect people to actually enjoy it and I lack of motivation but the support changed it. Also I finished it earlier than expected :) As before I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!

3rd POV

All eyes on her, that was the situation she found herself in now. Under normal circumstances she would feel extremely happy. Getting noticed and seen has always been her dream but this was more a nightmare than a dream. Looks of confusion and hatred hit her as soon as she looked around. Humiliation was what she was feeling right now, a feeling she knew very well.

She didn’t even dare to look behind her, scared to face her husband and his reaction but she could feel Lutes stare full of hatred piercing through her body as if she was a sinner on Extermination day. Ironic isn’t it? Back then in hell this day filled her with pure despair. All that blood and screams made her cry every year. Y/N hated her days in hell even more than her days when she was alive. She got out of her trance as she heard Monika laughing from above her. As she looked up she found herself in a familiar situation:

Kneeling on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks while someone looked down at her. Monika snipped with her fingers,making a picture of Y/N appear. Instead of the optimistic angel shining with happiness everyone could see a demon full of tiredness and sadness in her eyes. "You might wonder how I found out..well for those who knew her from her living days it isn’t rocket science that she killed herself. And we all know suicide is a sin.", Monika laughed as she looks down at Y/N and then at the other angels ,which whisper to each other in the courtroom. Y/N didn’t even noticed that Emily was hugging her,she was too lost in her own mind.

-Flashback-

Y/N was someone people would call a "trophy child", polite,smart and full of happiness,that changed as soon as she hit puberty. She started seeing imperfections she never noticed before, things she loved got boring and her grades were falling. In other words she burned out and lost motivation for basically everything. The only thing she didn’t gave up was dancing, for years she worked really hard for her dream to come true. She wanted to be a star, who can make people happy with her performances and be admired.

At the age of 21 she was faced with the fact that hard work is nothing compared to natural talent. The first time in 6 years she was supposed to be the main star of the show. But that would’ve been too good to be true. On the day of her performance they told her, they founded someone better…a natural talented girl named Monika. She was beautiful like a swan but her personality was rotten..wasted potential in Y/N’s eyes.

"Not everyone is born to be a star.", Monika said while looking down at the woman, who kneeled before her obviously crying. Blinded by rage and envy Y/N interrupted Monikas show,dancing with elegance and grace while Monika acted as if it’s supposed to be happen.

Y/N smiled at the audience as she continued to dance,. "Thank you all so much for your support but I am afraid that was my last show", she spoke as tears run down her cheeks. She thought about it often..just quitting everything including her life. She’s been working so hard her whole life for nothing. It was no secret that she had a fragil heart, being sensitive made her life twice as hard as it was. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she threw the axe she hid into the air right above her. She wanted to leave with an impact no one will forget. Her last words were "Thank you" as the axe hits her as she bowed.

Everyone was shocked especially Monika who stood next to her now lifeless body. Tragic isn’t it? But at least she had the impact she wanted happening,right? She was now know as "The dying swan".

It was too late when she realised that suicide wasn’t and never be the solution and that she wasted her previous life.

With her soul tainted by envy and sin she found herself now in Hell, a place ten times worse than earth.

It was hard but she survived, she found friends who shared a similar fate. Together they helped demons in need for 3 years. On the 4th yearly extermination everything changed. Y/N loved her friends dearly, so seeing one of her friends nearly getting killed by an angel made her act without thinking. Wanting her friend to live she threw herself in front of them. It was painful as the spear pierced right through her heart but it was worth it, after all she protected her friend, didn’t she?

With a smile on her face she made peace with the fact that she’ll die for a second time. What she didn’t expect was that she found herself waking up again, this time in heaven.

It wasn’t long until she befriended a seraphim called Emily, she was such a bundle of joy, which made Y/N feel better in no time.

How she caught the eye of the first man on earth and soul in heaven was a mystery to her but what she knew was that she despised him. He was cocky, rude and so full of himself and the sugar on the cream were the nicknames he gave her…"mini tits" and "sugar tits".

Because of their work they spent more time together and got to know each other. She got used to his antics and behaviour and started to enjoy his company, compared to others he was very nice and respectful to her. It wasn’t long until she fell in love with him. She realised it for the first time when he was actually starting to respect women in general. Respect for women was very important to her and seeing people change for the better out of their own will was something she cherished.

One year later, they started dating and Adam was surprisingly loyal and clingy,she didn’t mind it one bit. He brought light into her small and pathetic life and she cleansed him like a waterfall. All her anger, sadness disappeared while he was not used to all this love. Everyone in heaven knew they were totally smitten with each other. After another year she married him and they lived a happy life in heaven until now.

-Flashback ends-

Y/N buried her head onto Emily’s chest, not wanting to be seen in such a state. Everything was blurry and the voices muffled, all she could hear was her own heart beat loud and clear.

Adam didn’t know what to feel, his wife used to be a demon. Was he supposed to be angry, sad or disappointed, he didn’t know. She promised him to stay with him forever, she promised not to leave him like Lilith and Eve did. He knew that weren’t sweet lies, she was the first one to actually accept him as a whole, so why shouldn’t he accept her either. Sinner or not she was still his sweet and loving wife. The last thing Y/N saw before fainting was Adam standing in front of Monika.

Part 3

[riizebabie444]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙞𝙣 2024 ୨୧

୨୧ ─── as we approach the end of 2023, i thought it might be nice to do reading about the themes of your life in the coming year using a new astrology deck and tarot. the astrology cards will represent the theme and the tarot card drawn for each will provide some depth to the message. enjoy!

୨୧ ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

୨୧ ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

୨୧ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

୨୧ ─── 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚

the overarching theme of your life in 2024: your astrology card is libra and your clarifying tarot card is five of pentacles. the overarching theme of your life this year will be making the world a better place. you will feel an emphasis on treating others equally, and being treat equally yourself. this might also mean cutting off those who do not treat you in the same way you treat them. and the other way around also, with others concluding whether or not you are treating them fairly too.

you will be very friendly and kind in the coming year, especially to those who may be less fortunate. you may feel like you've lost all hope, but you will still choose to show love and kindness to others. in your mind, everyone deals with their own struggles so you do your best to maintain your own positivity while spreading the positivity to others. you will feel very optimistic and easy going despite the struggles of life.

you may also choose to be the peacekeeper, especially when you hit hard times, or when others hit their hard times. however, this could mean you avoid confrontation for the sake of keeping peace, which could make wounds grow deeper. you could be feeling very lonely this year which you will try to blind out by being social and making lots of friends. it is important to not distract yourself from what needs to be fixed.

the energy you will embody in 2024: your astrology card is sagittarius and your clarifying tarot card is ten of cups. it makes sense that your energy is sagittarius as it relates to the above. to be friendly and sociable, you need to be adventurous and confident. you will embody the energies of honesty and optimism, excitement and wittiness. you will be a very likeable person, and i can sense you aura attracting a lot of people due to its genuine curiosity and kindness.

you could also embody the spirit of a traveller, an explorer. you may feel the need to travel a lot in the coming year, and dream a lot of being in different places and parts of the world. you'll also be very energetic with the energy of sagittarius, and also the ten of cups. feeling content and blissful with all of your relationships, and you might notice yourself feeling more romantic than usual.

peace and love is everything for you in 2024. but in difficult times, you could become cold to others. for example, you would love to be sociable, but when you are not in the mood, you might be silent or stop talking to others all together. in that way, you might be a little inconsistent also if your energy is left unchecked, and perhaps even reckless. you can be emotionally content in the year but that doesn't mean there won't be hard times where you act the exact opposite of what you normally do. you'll feel an emotional climax in the coming year for both positive and negative emotions. but don't forget the real you who wants to spread peace and love in this cruel world.

focuses, advice and messages for 2024: your astrology card is pluto and your clarifying tarot cards are queen of pentacles reversed and three of pentacles reversed. the advice for you is to face the changes in life no matter how difficult. if you only focus on positive things and staying positive whilst simultaneously ignoring all the negative things, it becomes toxic positivity. you are being warned to not let this happen.

furthermore, it is important for you to not become jealous of others and what they have. it is easy to look at someone else's life and wish you were living it, but your message here is to not feel selfish or envious about wanting things that aren't meant for you. practise gratitude for what you have and self-care to nourish your mind and body so you can avoid this kind of energy. there is already so many negative influences in the world that could affect you, so don't add to them by bringing your own negativity into your life.

the last message is that in 2024, some things will begin and some things will end. you are being called to remember that the cycle of life exists, and old things end to make room for new things. likewise, new things come in to help remove old things. don't be too focused on either the positive things or negative things. you need to have a dynamic balance between your focus on each or else you will become hopeless and depressed or overconfident and unrealistic.

lastly, the three of pentacle reversed can indicate disharmony between groups. friendship or work groups or even family. you may not be on the same page as others, so it is important to listen to others and value others' opinions and ideas as well as your own. and also ensuring others treat you the same too. pay attention to details this year, don't be sloppy and lazy with your work or school life and develop your knowledge, skills and talents.

୨୧ ─── 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤

the overarching theme of your life in 2024: your astrology card is leo and your clarifying tarot card is the ace of wands. the main theme of your life in 2024 will be developing your creativity and skills and learning to be courageous. these two cards compliment each other well, and allow the energy to become much stronger. leo is already brave and assertive, and ace of wands is all about potential. you will grow a lot in the coming year.

i want to say being sociable will be a theme for the year, but moreover, the theme of personal growth is greater. you will receive lots of attention, and maybe even enjoy it as you may not be used to it at this moment. people will notice you a lot more with your newfound confidence and changes you are making to your personality and appearance. i feel you will be very charming this year. one thing i see is you complimenting and praising others a lot, as much as you will receive the same, which is what will make others love you even more. people will want you around but do be weary of those who only want you around for selfish reasons.

you'll be generous with your time and energy this year. i see you need to be careful to not give so much of it to others that you have none left for yourself. and with the ace of wands, you are sharing all of this potential. there is no gatekeeping this year. you will do your best to help others. it will even motivate you and inspire you to do better with your own life. you will attract success and good luck with these themes present. however, these themes do come hand in hand with arrogance and possessiveness, and even jealousy. always remember that personal growth is for yourself, and not something to show off to others or to make you feel better than others.

the energy you will embody in 2024: your astrological card is jupiter and your clarifying tarot card is the lovers reversed. jupiter is all about growth. this energy with significantly compliment the themes of your year. the energy you have will be expanding and healing. inviting lots of good fortune. but of course be aware that excessive good fortune will also have negativity lurking around. you might experience a lot of "miracles" this year, or just really lucky circumstances. you'll feel quite lucky.

if you feel attracted to pile one, you might want to read it. you'll have adventurous energy, wanting to travel a lot. you might even need to travel for work or family. i believe you will have a lot of energy focused on education or learning in general. such as learning new skills so you can take on more responsibilities with work or school, even hobbies. you may be facing the consequences of past actions in 2024, but you will not hide away. your brave energy will allow you to face them head on. you might also realise some toxic relationships need to come to an end. this is all part of jupiter's growth. it involves removing what is holding you back.

with the lovers reversed, your energy can be positive and healing but it will come with difficulties. you might deal with inner and outer conflicts in regards to your life. your energy might feel disharmonious at some points in the year. you could often feel that some things are "off", that something doesn't feel right. you can trust your intuition in some circumstance, but in others intuition alone will not be enough and you will need to put in the effort to work through things. jupiter's energy will always help you find balance again. self-love is also here as an energy, but you may be lacking it in the coming year.

focuses, advice and messages for 2024: your astrology card is uranus and clarifying tarot card is ten of pentacles. here, we have the energy of drastic changes. it holds the energy of being awakened. you will experience a different kind of drive to what you have had before, such as feeling motivated in ways you have never been motivated before. perhaps in the past you have been a procrastinator. uranus, and the other astrological energies, will guide you to a new source of motivation and it will allow you to be totally different from the past.

you want to be different and make a change in 2024. so accept and work with the energies of uranus in order to make it happen. you will be really setting the foundations of your future in this year. so if you know an important choice will be made, such as which degree to do, or subject to study, or job to choose. think about them deeply, weigh the options against each other and choose the right one for you, because it will set the tone for your future. but as there are important questions to answer, you should also share your attention to all areas of your life. your decisions must ultimately reflect in the best way possible for all aspects of your life.

furthermore, money and possessions seem quite important this year, so consider them greatly, they might be the deciding factor in your decisions. think about the future, and how the decisions you make in this year will affect the positions of you and your dreams a year, five years, ten years down the line. for some, it may be a decision like getting married or starting a business. you need to consider how it will affect the future that you want.

୨୧ ─── 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

the overarching theme of your life in 2024: your astrological card is taurus and your clarifying tarot is the chariot. the themes of your year will be all about hard work and building something for the future. it's very hard-working and studious energy, consistent and disciplined. you want to move forward in a positive direction, so you are setting the foundations in 2024 to make it happen. you'll be extremely committed to the important things in your life.

there will be a lot of emphasis on family, spending time with them as much as you can because you know most of your time will be going into work and staying organised. you will want to create something with a long lasting value, something that won't just be significant in 2024, but for the foreseeable future. it's all about having the willpower to commit to your goals so that you can see victory. "keep going" is what i keep hearing. you'll be pushing yourself harder than ever, so it is important to also rest when you need it.

you will enjoy building up layers of stability over the year. but sometimes you will need a breath of fresh air. this year you will really appreciate the outdoors, especially when you are taking a break from the hard work. you will have a strong desire to succeed this year and taking breaks is what will make the difference between burning out and staying consistent. the outdoors will also help to keep any jealousy at bay. possessiveness and jealousy are negative themes which could come through in 2024. remember that not everyone is an enemy. instead of feeling jealous of others achieving goals quicker than you, use it as motivation to make yours happen faster.

the energy you will embody in 2024: your astrological card is ninth house and your clarifying tarot card is queen of wands. these two cards compliment each other a lot. you're set out on your quest to make your dreams come true but you know that the horizon isn't the end despite it being the farthest you can see. you know making dreams come true goes beyond just making it happen. for example, you can make a cake. but you can't make the cake without knowing how to make it. and when you learn how to make it, you can't make it without the ingredients. so you first need to find the ingredients.

in this sense, you will learn to do things step by step, slowly building up the layers to create a solid foundation for your goals to be sustainable. it could mean you will be more inclined this year to focus in education and learning skills. it will feel like your basic instinct is to learn. you are providing initial inputs for future outputs. you can also be more confident and outgoing this year, but being sociable will be quite draining since a lot of your energy will go into work.

you're energy in 2024 will be a mix of earthly and fiery energy. the two often clash with each other and could mean you will burn out quite easily. you don't want to use up all of your energy straight away. you will feel a little adventurous too, trying new things, new food, visiting new places. you will use your time for rest to nourish your mind and body with new experiences, but you will still have that focus on your goals.

focuses, advice and messages for 2024: your astrology card is the moon and your clarifying tarot card is two of pentacles. your advice hear is to keep the balance. like i already mentioned, with the earth and fire energy it will be easy for you to burn out before you get a chance to finish your goals. you might also be rushing from one thing to the next. you have that eagerness in you and you need to balance it with your slow and dedicated energy.

ensure you have your downtime, personal time to reflect on the things you are achieving as well as doing things which completely take your mind off of work. such as travelling or socialising. you might even have greater focus on religion and philosophy, which could help you keep your mind at ease. the moon is hear to usher you to reflect on your subconscious reactions and emotions. understand why you are doing the things you are doing. create a deeper insight into yourself. nurture both your mind and body here in order to keep your energy levels high.

try not to compare yourself too much, especially with others. you are on your own journey, you aren't making your dreams come true for anyone else but yourself. so it is important that you don't focus too heavily on what other people are doing and achieving as it can lead to jealousy and bitter feelings which will not reflect well in your own life and work. you are on your own journey going at your own pace. appreciate that as a fact so that you are not influenced with negativity.

୨୧ ─── 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧

the overarching theme of your life in 2024: your astrological card is pluto and your clarifying tarot card is the tower. these two cards are pretty much one and the same. there is emphasis on power and transformation in your life in the year of 2024. it's likely you will experience big shifts in your life, both physical and mental. what has lied beneath in the past will come to the top in 2024, and you will have no choice but to confront it. it is a very powerful energy and you can feel overwhelmed at many times during the year.

however, it is not all bad energy. the results will almost definitely be positive changes in your life. you'll face the creation of new and amazing things after the destruction of things that no longer served you. honesty and open communication will be key themes this year. you will expect it more from others and also be expected to give the same to others. you'll become more authentic when communicating in the coming year, however, you should ensure that you do not become harsh or brash when communicating. you can be honest, but that doesn't mean you can be mean. be careful with how you say things.

you'll have a lot of focus in finding out the truth. you know the worst will be put behind you but you will still be looking for closure on past events. you may face challenges in general, and you will feel the need to sometimes step back from it all and reflect on what you are doing, and whether or not it is worth doing. you will learn a lot in this process as pluto will guide you to learn right from wrong. you may feel you are experiencing too many hardships but it is a cycle you need to get through in order to overcome it and become stronger.

the energy you will embody in 2024: your astrology card is libra and your clarifying tarot card is the lovers and queen of wands. libra and the lovers pair well together. you will want to find balance and peace. it may be difficult to do so when you are experiencing much change and discomfort due to the energies in the year, however, i think you will still be a softie inside. you may harden up on the outside, but inside you will still be craving for peace and balance.

it is a reminder that not everything lasts forever, so the difficult times will pass over and you will feel confident about coming out stronger. you will have balancing energy within yourself. although outside your mind and body will feel chaotic, you will focus on ensuring the inside of your mind and body is kept healthy and balanced. you will feel the desire to keep the peace, and so your overall energy will be like so.

you may feel very conflicted at times and indecisive. you may often want to hide away from the problems of life. but overall, i see you embodying the strength of someone brave and powerful. someone who is going through the hardest time but still does their best to come out on top. you will feel focused and do what you need to do in order to keep the balance when pluto and the tower are tipping the scales of your life. life is bringing you chaos, so your bring life peace and balance. this will be your energy focuses in 2024.

focuses, advice and messages for 2024: your astrology card is sixth house and your clarifying astrology card is wheel of fortune. it is very important that you take care of your health and wellbeing this year. which makes sense because it will be a drastic year. both physical and mental health should be given attention from yourself. there is some little emphasis on personal growth, however i think it is more important to focus on keeping your mind and body healthy as a priority, and personal growth comes after.

there is also the reminder of what goes around comes around. so be careful of how you treat others. don't take out your personal issues on others who do not deserve it. and if you do, don't be surprised when others react in ways you do not like. you should also focus on separating the things you can't change from the things you can change. you can always make a difference with the things you have control over, so don't be blinded by the things you do not have control over. those are what you must deal with, but everything else you can control to make things better.

focus on routine. i see 2024 may be really hard for you so it will be difficult to stay consistent and disciplined. your energy levels may fluctuate a lot. therefore, it is even more important to reflect on your routine and change it so that it fits with the changes in your life. you should also prepare for the unexpected. things may go your way, others will not. believe that luck and fortune will be on your side despite all the difficulties. i'm hearing you will be rewarded at the end. you are being encouraged to not give up.

୨୧ ─── 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚

the overarching theme of your life in 2024: your astrology card was saturn and your clarifying tarot card is the lovers. saturn is all about being more organised, finding discipline. you will find in 2024 that your life requires a lot more organisation and you will need to be more disciplined. routines will be very beneficial for you. for some, it could be that you allow yourself to be more disciplined and organised, you will put in the effort. for others, you will pretty much be forced into it. you will have no other choice and life may be difficult for you without this energy.

there is also the energy of commitment. commitment to new routines and new habits but also commitment to things and people in your life. some of you may enter a committed relationship, for others it could be friendship, a job, hobby or a home. it could also be staying committed to the new routines. overall, the energy suggests that you will find something or many things to be committed to in 2024. and with your energy being savoured with your newfound organisation, you will have enough energy for such commitments.

the lovers also suggests balance. finding harmony and peace with the changes in your life. if you are someone who has been wanting to be more disciplined in the past, 2024 will be the year it finally happens. you will become more mature and authoritative, embodying that of a leader who sets an example not just to others but also to yourself. your purpose in the year will be to work hard and stay committed.

the energy you will embody in 2024: your astrology card is virgo and your clarifying tarot card is king of swords. virgo is hard working energy. as mentioned above, you will embody the energy of a hard worker. someone who is intelligent and gives everything to their craft. but also staying humble for long after receiving the rewards. i see you will pursue your goals in silence, not bragging and not giving up.

the king of swords shares the same energy. he is smart, a clear thinker, true and authoritative. you may also be someone who enjoys foods and arts in 2024. you will feel the energy to express your creativity, and nourish a creative mind. and you will also feel inclined to emotional connections. but the king also will help you rise above any strong emotional withholdings and help you to see clearly when you are clouded by emotions.

a hard worker often gets lost in their work, so you it is likely you will be prone to bouts of perfectionism throughout the year. you will think a lot with virgo's energy, and perhaps showcase overthinking tendencies, and may be overly critical of yourself and others. it is important you remain unbiased and see both sides of matters, rather than getting stuck in your head. you will be focused on building plans and coming up with ideas.

focuses, advice and messages for 2024: your astrology card is taurus and your clarifying tarot cards are page of cups reversed and ace of pentacles. i love how all of these cards and the ones above are pretty much saying the same thing. although you will be hard working this year, it is important to put in the work for things that will last in the long term. of course you can work on whatever you want but some of it should be on things which will have long lasting value.

you could be experiencing a creative block currently, or this will happen in the coming year. there is also a suggestion to keep your creative ideas a secret. there might be some unoriginal snakes around you who will steal your ideas. it can also indicate some disappointment in regards to emotional relationships so be aware for this. in regards to this, you should try not to act irresponsibly out of emotion, and not letting your emotions get the better of you.

the last piece of advice is to be careful with your expenditure in 2024. new opportunities and prosperity may come your way however, it is important to value stability rather than lushness. there is potential for abundance but be careful with spending everything all at once. you'll experience success with what you put your mind to. but i'm getting the message that you need to keep your head in the game and don't get distracted by rewards.

୨୧ ─── 𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙭

the overarching theme of your life in 2024: your astrology cards are pluto and aquarius and your clarifying tarot card is page of swords. the themes of your life in 2024 will be change, transforming yourself into someone who is sociable and outgoing. by having the power within yourself to make the change. you'll be more focused on forming friendships and social groups, as well as cultivating work or school circles or bubbles.

trying new things will also be a theme, but more so creating new things, such as friendships, habits, opportunities. and while a lot of your focus will be on other people in the new year, you will also be learning how to be reliant on yourself. the areas of life which need changing will ultimately face the powers of creation and destruction.

this year will be all about curiosity and enthusiasm, staying positive no matter what. always learning and having lots of energy for yourself and others while at the same time, planning carefully for the future. you may at times become pessimistic and impatient, possibly rebellious with both pluto and aquarius' energy, but overall the new year for you is about discovering a new side of yourself and others seeing that side. you may also deal with anxiousness and guardedness, however, you will grow to be an entirely new person for yourself and for others.

the energy you will embody in 2024: your astrology card is sixth house and your clarifying tarot card is ace of cups. the sixth house indicates that a lot of energy and focus will be put towards your health, both mental and physical. and with the ace of cups, it is clear you will especially be taking care of your mind and emotions. all of these are also linked to personal growth, so by putting in the effort to take care of your body and mind, it will also help you with personal development.

your wellbeing is of great importance in 2024, so don't ignore what your body is telling you. it is also involved with work and routines, preparing for day to day tasks rather than looking at long term goals. you'll have very detailed and meticulous focuses this year, and your energy will help you be thorough with completing tasks and achieving goals. and you will also work towards balanced energy, not working too hard as it might harm your wellbeing, and not focusing too much on health as it can distract you from your work.

and your energy might be quite emotional, it is likely you will be experiencing strong emotions and deep feelings, intense connections with others and lots of compassion, with the ace of cups. family and friendship is of importance in 2024, and you will embody the energy of someone your friends and family want to be around. you'll be feeling a renewal of love of all kinds. and also feel encouraged for new beginnings.

focuses, advice and messages for 2024: your astrology card is neptune and your clarifying tarot cards are ten of swords and two of swords. you are being called to not abandon your imagination. while you are focusing on real, tangible things in 2024, it is important to not forget the freedom of a creative mind and know that your mind is capable of many things. it is a warning to let go of limiting beliefs. it is also a suggestion to work on spirituality or personal growth, be connected with yourself on a deep and true level.

and to also figure out which structures and routines are not working for you. what works for everyone else does not necessarily work for you. it is okay to put an end to things that don't serve you anymore. you may feel defeated at times but trust in yourself that it will work out in the end, for the best. darkness does not last forever and if you are experiencing that now, 2024 will be the year you finally let go of it all. so look forward to it, and work towards it also.

you final piece of advice is to listen to your own wisdom and not be influenced by many others. neptune will show you that the truth is within you. the only thing stopping you is your beliefs, and outside influences. listen to yourself when making decisions, do not let others make them for you. you may feel distracted by events and people, and you want to make choices that will be good for everyone however, some choices need to be good for you and you alone. so don't make choices for other people's sake, do it for yourself. and sometimes that might even mean not making the choice at all, or stopping and taking some time to meditate on the decision before making the choice.

[crystalsenergy]

Astro counselling- Rising Signs (all)

Ascendant in…

ARIES Self-sufficiency is not the same as self-sabotage. Beware of behaviors that harm your physical and mental health because you are someone with an extreme focus on doing things alone and end up carrying the world on your shoulders.

TAURUS Your material possessions don't define who you are. Having more, having less, doesn't make you better (or worse) than anyone else. Beware of material attachment as a way of seeing yourself. Do you believe or have you ever believed that you are how much you have?

GEMINI Your tendency to be very adaptable to environments and exchanges can make people unable to define exactly who you are. Be adaptable and flexible, but not superficial in your conveyed image.

CANCER Beware of a tendency to want to be everyone's mother figure and feel too responsible for the lives of those around you. Beware of emotional manipulation because of your kind and compassionate nature - which is beautiful but needs to be shown in doses to some people.

LEO If you have pride and defensiveness as your tendencies, see that you are greater than your ego forces. Find ways to improve this. Realize how much pride can be preventing you from expressing your true feelings to others.

VIRGO Pay attention to your overcompensation behaviors. What is this, Paty? This happens when you want to make up for something you think you failed, and you do this very intensely. You don't have to act this way in order to (re-)establish the sense of inner usefulness. You are already useful. Your successful or unsuccessful tasks don't erase this.

LIBRA See the value YOU have. Your worth is not conditioned by how much others appreciate you. You are self-sufficient. You don't need to be dependent on other people's approval because you are enough. You are enough.

SCORPIO Your depth and intensity tend not to appear so much to others, after all, you are, by nature, a deep and mysterious sign. If you just internalize everything and not externalize, it can do you more harm than good. Your inner intensity can make you IMPLODE, which will be bad for you. Beware of self-destruction, even if “imperceptible”.

SAGITTARIUS Your essence is deep, optimistic and grandiose. However, beware of attachment to optimism and hedonistic philosophies of life (which seek more happiness and pleasure than anything else). Life is full of ups and downs, and the lows are just as uplifting and educational as the highs. You can live blinding yourself in the optimistic vibe, forgetting to see where you need to grow, evolve.

CAPRICORN Contrary to what they say (“Capricorn is indifferent, Capricorn is cold”), you know that this is not the case. Deep down, you care a lot about others, however, the mistake is exactly in the focus you give - your focus is very much on the opinion of others, on the image of being successful, on the importance of pleasing society, even if society is not just a person, but the whole - and that's why this search can imprison you so much. This is a lesson for the sign of Capricorn, eliminating the search for appearance and being in standards, however, on the Ascendant this search is focused on the vision of oneself. So, take care of how much your self-esteem is linked to your level of social approval.

AQUARIUS You are very mental, you are constantly stimulated by your thoughts, your behavior is largely based on your mental activity. Just be careful with excessive thoughts moving in your mind, it can generate a lot of anxiety. Therefore, pay attention to the amount of subjects you come into contact with in a short period of time. You have a more reflective nature, so you can be overstimulated in your mind and lose mental energy.

PISCES The greatest care of the Ascendant in Pisces is exactly the one that involves the outside world, what is outside of him/her. Because Pisces is a sign that is not natural aware of what enters its mind, since it captures energies from the outside quite automatically, it is important to pay attention, more than anyone else, to whom you talk, with whom you exchange energy, the environments you frequent...

[historiaxvanserra]

Yes, I do understand that feeling, friend. 2. Would love to hear your headcanons about what being Tamlin's mate would be like!

Dark Bloom | Tamlin's Mate headcanons

I'm so sorry anon that this has been sitting in my drafts for maybe about 6 months! This is super long, not very well written and totally unedited but I've been thinking about Tamlin a lot recently! so consider this the product of my brainrot! I think

I might make this into something that is actually proper prose and not just my random incoherent thoughts at some point! I really want to add some more!

In my mind Tamlin meets his mate when he's at his lowest. I guess sometime after acosf. The Spring Court is still more or less in ruins.

He's sent everyone away, all the staff and courtiers have gone, sent back to their own estates in the country or to their villages.

Tamlin is in complete isolation, he spends his days locked away in his apartments wallowing in self-loathing and anger and without a productive way to channel all of that anger he spirals further.

Eris Vanserra, newly made High Lord of Autumn seeks to make alliances with Tamlin but having received no response for some times Eris decides to take matters into his own hands and visits the Spring Court with one of his most trusted advisers to help Tamlin rebuild his court.

At first Tamlin is incredibly hostile, much too prideful to ask for help and much too ashamed at what he has become.

For that reason the first few months working with Tamlin are difficult, he's uncooperative and disinterested. He had once been a boy; foolhardy and blindly optimistic, both unprepared for the role of High Lord and terrified of becoming like his own father.

After the way he treated Feyre, too blinded by his own trauma to recognise his abusive behaviour, he didn't trust himself to be around anyone.

Your High Lord sends you to The Spring Court to act as his emissary there and to oversee the re-building of the court.

Those first few weeks are hard. Tamlin remains for the most part in a very dark place. He spends his days locked away in his private chambers, with the shades drawn and no one permitted to enter.

He spends his nights walking the grounds alone. What he does no one is truly sure but you see him some nights when sleep does not find you, pacing the rose gardens or sitting near the fountain, looking at the sky.

Some nights he reads long into the night until the first golden slivers of sunlight bleed across the sky. Other nights the gentle lilt of his music drifts through the solemn silence of the Manor.

At some point Tamlin reenters court life;

He rises with the first of the shadowed sunlight and works long into the night. Only finding rest when the moon begins to sink into the horizon.

In those few hours he gives himself leave to dream again; at first he is plagued with dreams of his lost love, and in his dreams it is his fathers face he sees staring back at him.

But before long it is your face that he sees when he drifts into that velvet abyss.

Your laugh that blooms like roses in his chest. Its a slow manifesting ache at first. A strange pull between his body and yours.

Tamlin suspects that it might be the beginnings of the mating bond; he reverts to the male he was in those first few months after you came to his court-- to the male that had been more beast than man.

But he can't escape you-- every thought, every minute, every day-- it always leads back to you.

He finds himself seeking you out, promising that he won't get too close. That he will love you from afar. That way he can never hurt you.

Even if it physically pains him. Even if he feels like his beating heart is being torn from his chest.

The rest of the season he spends by your side, riding horses through the meadows and lounging in orchards, surrounded by the sweet smelling fruits and blooming wildflowers.

He realises he's in love with you on one of those lazy afternoons; you're saturated in the leonine yellow light of the sun and he thinks that you might be the closest thing to a goddess that he will ever get.

The sharpness in his chest bursts and goes taut and you smile at him and then all he knows is love.

Still, he doesn't make any move to express his feelings for fear of your rejection. He doesn't know that he would survive it a second time.

Months pass and his waking moment is devoted to his court and to you. His days are spent attending court duties but his afternoons and his nights are yours.

Calamnai comes round once again and the thought of being with anyone but you makes him physically ill.

But he is High Lord and he had obligations to his lands and his people. He failed them once before and he will not fail them again.

He makes plans to complete the Rite, hopes that you might return to your home court for the night.

But the night comes and you're there, dressed in a rose coloured dress, so gossamer thin that he swears he can see the outline of your thighs when the lantern light soaks you in the golden glow.

And then there is the matter of your scent -- fucking hell.

He's a man starved; aching and feral and when you meet him in the grove there's nought he can do but surrender himself to the carnal instincts that live within him.

It's a feral and desperate union; aching and tender yet savage. All teeth and claws as you come together

The feverish heat of his breath as he trails wet kisses down the column of your throat. The drag of his teeth over the pulse point.

He sinks into you with a growl so deep and fervent that it feels like a prayer of devotion as it hits your ears.

Tamlin fucks into you at a savage pace that speaks of his aching need to have you in all the ways that you might allow and, if come morning, you wish to be rid of him, he will have memorised the sweet sounds he draws from you like the melody of an old song.

To comfort him in his loneliness.

But as dawn breaks you're still pressed against him whispering words of devotion into his skin as you're wreathed in the first light.

Another gasp tears through your and Tamlin feels the bond in his chest tighten and contract.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest and he prepares for the worst.

That is until you take his head in your hands and card your delicate fingers through his unbound hair and whisper, so gently against his bitten lips, 'my mate'

[just-a-torn-up-masterpiece]

back in town

part one of home for christmas

natasha romanoff x reader

The hallmark movie inspired Christmas story that nobody asked for.

Natasha Romanoff fell out of love with Christmas, but perhaps a certain someone could help her find the festive magic once again.

Coming home to her small hometown from her life in New York City, the children’s author is reunited with the people of her past; some are happier to see her than others.

But, will rekindled relationships inspire the Christmas story she’s struggling to write? Or will she go home empty handed?

fluff, lots of Christmas, hallmark movie cringe

for the sake of this fic, all characters are the same kind of age; ≈mid 20s

wc: 1.4k | part two

Serving customers their coffee has been an opportunity for a moment of peace lately. Wanda, as well as the remainder of your insufferable friends, had taken it upon themselves to set you up on dates. Somehow, their lack of success so far hasn’t managed to convince them of their matchmaking deficits.

So, during work hours, you’re bombarded with suggestions to which you decline time and time again. Apparently, being the Christmas season and all, it was a matter of extreme importance; the so-called ‘Christmas magic’ had to have a source of focus and, according to them, that was you.

You’d tried; the amount of boring and unsuccessful dates you’ve embarked on is almost embarrassing. You’ve had short lived relationships, fleeting flings, and so many blind dates you can’t even count them with all ten fingers. But none of them were right for you. None of the options were worthy to ‘cuddle up with by the fireplace’ or ‘entwine souls with beside a decorated tree’. Wanda had an optimistic take on your love life - you’d all be lying if you didn’t call her obsessed.

“C’mon, that girl in the bookstore was totally obsessed with you,” she spoke as soon as the customer in front of you had left with a smile and a cup of coffee in their hand.

“Wanda, please,” you groaned, busying yourself with the messed up counter, wiping down the surface hoping it’d will her away.

“She could be the one.”

“You say that about all of them,” you huffed with a laugh. She truly was a hopeless romantic. You hypothosise her obsession with your romantic endeavours is some haphazardly disguised attempt to draw away her own infatuation with a certain bookstore owner. It’s no coincidence you’re both in there so often and it’s definitely not because you have a crush on anybody there.

“Maybe this one’s different.”

“You always say that too,” you laughed. “What about you anyway? How about we get you a date with that woman you ogle, huh?”

“What woman? There isn’t a woman,” she defended, you saw right through her.

“The one that likes to give you discount on all those books you buy and never read. Agatha, is it?”

“Oh, look, you have a customer. I better get more coffee from the back,” she hurried out before rushing away.

Luckily your best friend seemed to have taken the hint for the time being and the next couple of hours passed with you working in your regular harmony.

“That man is always late, I swear,” Wanda spoke with a glance at the clock. Sam was meant to be in for his shift twenty minutes ago, though you find his lack of punctuality to be an endearing trait. And, as though his ears were burning, the man in question burst through the wreath-decorated door with quickened breaths from what you assumed to be a sprint into work.

“You will never guess who I just bumped into,” he shouted to you both as he pulled his coat off to replace it with the coffee shop apron.

“Santa?” Wanda grinned with an excitement an adult likely shouldn’t present herself with at the prospect.

“Better.”

“Nobody’s better than Santa,” she pouted.

“If it wasn’t an old guy in a red hat you’re gonna have a real sad boss to deal with,” you responded with a laugh.

“Well now I don’t wanna say,” he answered with a chuckle of his own.

“You can’t lead with that and not tell us,” Wanda countered with a poke to his arm.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“You’re kidding.”

The pair of you answered him at the same time, a mirrored disapproval in your tones.

“Nope. She’s here for the holidays.”

“What, New York’s not good enough for her anymore?” you uttered in annoyance, rolling your eyes before plastering on an appeasing smile to the customer that approached.

“I didn’t think the small town Christmas vibe fit her new Scrooge persona,” Wanda added with an equally annoyed voice.

“I dunno, I didn’t talk to her much, I came to tell you two. You know I like the gossip,” Sam answered with a smile, though he wasn’t so pleased with her appearance either.

“You can put your matchmaking shit on hold,” you stated. “All focus is now on ‘operation avoid Romanoff’.”

“Mission accepted as long as you come up with a better title,” Wanda returned. “A Christmas themed one.”

—

“Oh my God, I need to tell you all who I saw in town this afternoon,” Kamala practically squealed as she took her seat in the booth with the rest of the group. A girl’s night out at the local bar was a no brainer after the news.

“Let me guess,” Monica voiced. “Red hair, expensive suit, kinda scary, and a knack for ghosting certain people?” She added, tapping her chin with her face contorted into one of faux musing and a pointed look towards you with her final words.

“Pretty good at breaking poor innocent hearts?” Carol added with a teasing nudge to your shoulder to lighten your mood.

“She didn’t break my heart,” you scoffed.

“Just stomped on it a little,” Kate said with the same joking tone - if there was one thing you adored your friends for it was their way of making even awful situations fell a little less dire.

“Poked at it with her expensive stilettos,” Wanda added.

“Oh, so I’m the last to know,” Kamala sighed. “That’s cool, I guess. Not that I wanted to come in here with big, dramatic news or anything.”

“No, please, go on,” you laughed. “Who was it that you saw?”

“Natasha. Romanoff,” she exclaimed with all the dramatic flare she’d hoped to achieve. And, of course, you all gasped just as you knew she’d enjoy.

“You’re kidding,” you deadpanned.

“I know!”

“I’m gonna get us some more drinks,” Kate spoke as she stood up. “No gossip whilst I’m gone, you know all the drama gets my blood up.”

And so you all talked. And talked. And talked. Every detail of your relationship - or lack thereof - was explored. Her departure and the toll it took on you was examined and you remembered just how grateful you’ve always been for their support, they’re truly the best friendship group you ever could’ve asked for.

“Oh my God.”

The phrase was grumbled out by the three of you positioned in the line of sight of the door, the faces of you, Carol and Wanda all laced with discontent at the sight.

“Alright, look behind you but be subtle,” Carol instructed. “I’m talking to you, Kamala.”

It started off discreetly to begin with, Monica glanced over her shoulder with a scoff at the image behind her. Kate, somehow, was just as discreet but, of course, Kamala being Kamala an obnoxiously loud gasp followed her gawking. It drew the attention of those at the eye of the display you were staring at and two pairs of eyes looked back at you.

“What a surprise,” Yelena grinned as she approached with her sister in tow.

“Yelena, you were literally invited,” you grumbled. “You said you had plans.”

“There’s been a change in plans,” she shrugged, clearly amused at the awkward situation she was dragging you into. “My dear sister and I are joining you.”

“I’ll get more drinks,” Natasha mumbled. The first words you’d heard from her in years and she kept her eyes everywhere but directed towards you; something about the way she still buries her hands in her coat pockets when she’s nervous stirred up a stinging familiarity.

“Lena, what the hell?” Wanda whispered when the blonde smugly took her seat in the already crammed booth.

“What?” she shrugged, feigning obliviousness at her clearly deliberate actions. “It’s Christmas, even the grinch needs a drink.”

Speaking of, the redheaded grinch in question approached with a tray of drinks and an awkward yet fleeting smile gifted to you when she pulled a chair up to the end of the table. To your surprise, she even held your gaze as she slid your glass over to you though you couldn’t muster much more than an almost inaudible thank you.

“So, you’re back,” Carol spoke, leaning forwards with her arms resting on the table.

And that began the awkward evening. There was an obvious tension between the pair of you; Natasha answered any questions she was asked and you pretended not to notice the way she’d steal looks at you over the edge of her glass. You, however, barely spoke.

How do you talk to the woman that left you behind? Especially when she comes back into town looking even more perfect than before; you scold your lustful eyes for tearing your mind apart.

[lola-la-cava]

If You’ll Have Me

gif not mine !

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The sunlight peeking through the blinds shone. Two bodies on the bed laid, intertwined. Timothée laid with his stomach against the soft mattress. His arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist.

She opened her eyes, waking from her slumber and gazing at the sight she’d grown familiar to and loved. Y/N admired his slightly parted lips and his unruly curls covering the top half of his face. She pushed them upwards only for them to slowly come back down. Y/N giggled at this and tucked it behind his ears.

“Hm? What is it?” he asked with a raspy morning voice that gave her so much butterflies.

It had been a few months since they started going out and he never failed to make her feel all giddy and giggly like a school girl.

“Nothing, don’t worry. Good morning”, she grinned resting her forhead against his. Timothée chuckled at this and pecked her nose.

They laid like that for several minutes, bathing in each other’s presence. Whispers of sweet nothing and light grazes on each other’s bodies are exchanged. The couple cherished moments like these before the day ultimately pulls them apart like it always does.

Only this time it was different. Timothée was leaving for LA again to promote a new project. It would still be a few weeks before they got to do this again.

Y/N continued to long for a time when she could spend time with her boyfriend without getting interrupted by press junkets, reshoots and award shows. They both did, but most of her job kept her tied down here. In New York. All the way across the country from LA.

Until now.

She’d recently resigned to pursue a more free lance job.

She groaned as she pushed herself up to sit up against the headboard. “Oh God, I can’t believe you’re leaving again”.

Timothée sighed as he looked up at her admiring her features. “I know, but it’ll be shorter than the other trips, I promise”

Y/N raises her eyebrow at this.

He sits up, putting his hands up in defeat, “Honest to God! I just have around 15 interviews scheduled. I’ll be done with in 3 days. I have a talk show to do and a fitting for the-“

Timothée continued to talk, but Y/N also commented. “-Hey, don’t worry. Take your-“

“And I have a bunch of open houses to go to”

Her heart drops at the sudden statement.

The room silences. “Open house, huh? When’d you start looking?”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Around 3 months ago?”

She inaudibly scoffed.

The audacity this man had. They’d been dating for months and not a single word of this came out of his mouth. Was he just gonna lead her on? Make her make a drastic decision about their relationship on the brink of him moving to the other side of the country? Y/N didn’t even know anymore.

But of course, she had no right to influence his choice in this. He’d been working toward where he was for years now. And he had nowhere to go but up. Y/N couldn’t help but be proud of him and support him. No matter what he does.

She put on a small smile.

“That’s great, Timmy. Oh, I’m so happy for you”

“Well, nothing’s really sure for now, but yeah fingers crossed.” he smirks optimistically with a blank stare on the comforter.

He zoned out, imagining their life there. He kind of expected her to handle the news with more enthusiasm. Of course, this wasn’t the ideal way he thought to reveal it, letting it accidentally slip out in a vent, but still. Y/N seemed solemn almost sad. Like the way she seemed whenever he’d leave for another trip.

Timothée’s body tensed all of a sudden. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression

“Y/N?” he called out to her, letting his hand rest on top of hers. She hummed earnestly. “You don’t think I’m moving by myself, do you?”

She sat up at his words, her e/c eyes trained on his. “You’re not?”

He started laughing. Loudly. As if he was teasing her for thinking that. Truly he was cackling because it was so appalling to the point that it was funny.

She frowned at this, “What are you laughing at?” He pretends to wipe away tears threatening to come out of the corners of his eyes and pouted. “Aw, did you really think I’d leave without you?”

“God, Timmy! Why’d you have to scare me like that!” The heart that was previously in her stomach soared. Y/N looked into his eyes for a second before she jumped into his lap to give him a bear hug. She remained clinging onto him.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that. Y/N fiddled with the curls in the back of his head as he rubbed her back. His hand all of a sudden rested on her cheek, bringing her gaze to him. “So, how ‘bout it?”

“I’d love to”

He grinned at her words and placed small kisses all over her face.

“If you’ll have me”

“It would be my pleasure, mon ange”

[lil-beanz000]

I woke up an chose violence for xmas eve~ LINE UP BOIZ

I kinda just went nuts on this....I am sorry no one asked for it haha Gunna share what I have thought out so far tho. ~ more below!!!!

Virus started in Draxums lab, Zombie are mutated yokai/human undead affected by the Oozesquitoes. The events of the apocalypse start before the pilot episode of rottmnt, So the boys do not have the Ninpo and the weapons they get from draxums labs. The boys never learn about it before Splinter dies. (this is to give more of a challenge to the story an fun 0w0 no tech an no powers. We SURVIVING BABY) This also means that the boys dont understand the hidden city an yokai as they would in the show. This is all silly fun so its not that serious~ I just wanna have some fresh angst an zombies yo

~~more of the injuries -Mikey, he's mostly Deaf due to an accident with a bomb created by Donnie. To close to the explosion and the whole thing was hectic but that's why Mikey has a large scar on the right side of his face/neck as well. He is the most un "damaged" of the 4, as his brothers fiercely protect him. Mikey is more emotionally distant due to the trauma of the undead and people dying around him. -Leo arm goes chop chop pretty early on in the apocalypse due to a bite, he duels with one katana an his arm in close combat. He's less humorous in this AU, a bit more stricter. I don't have much information on him XD He leads along with Raph. -Donnie, no tech, still wears battleshell but it no longer functions. Its heavily modified due to it being the same size when the apocalypse started. Left leg was bitten in a food/supply run with Raph (Raph also lost his Tail as well during this time((bite)) Donnie is a much more tactical fighter, distance an smarts. Uses staff to impales undead head at safer distance. Donnie is much more cruel spoken in this au later on in life, he's not very optimistic but finds humor in it. Almost switching rolls with Leo's personality, not completely but almost like a trauma response to the apocalypse. -Raphie~ Uses double barrel gun as a last resort, He relies on his Sais an his thick skin to protect his family. His right eye is blind due to yokai zombie attack.(was zombie big mama 0w0) he lost a large portion of his tail along with Donnies leg the same time. (Will go more into detail of that later) He is much more protective of his brothers, untrusting an weary of strangers.

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Friendly Fire

Author’s Note: Hello, again! I’d like to thank everyone who liked, commented, and shared my first little project. The love it received was overwhelming for a newbie to the fanfic scene, and I’m so grateful for the input and encouragement. This story takes place in the same timeline as my first installation, so if you haven’t had a chance to read Homeward Bound yet, you can find it here. Don’t worry, though! There won’t be a specific timeline to follow. The idea is to give little glimpses into an established relationship, so you’re not missing anything (yet!). We started with a reunion, so it only seems fair to take it back to where it all began. I can’t wait for everyone to meet the new woman in Sy’s life. Happy reading!  Summary: Last night, Syverson met the love of his life. If only he could remember it. Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC  Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol consumption and weapons, adult language, and (almost) implied smut. Sy is his own warning. I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

“Oh, fuck me,” Sy groaned to himself. He threw a heavy arm over his face and sighed, doing his best to block out the sun as it creeped in through the blinds, but resistance was futile. Stupidly optimistic birds chirped their early morning songs, each shrill call rattling around in his skull like an angry swarm of wasps, wild and pissed off. His body felt heavy, his joints ached, and his stomach churned. “I’m gettin’ too old fer this shit.” 

Sy could handle a little hangover. He’d done it before, and Lord know’s he’d do it again. In truth, he’d been burning the candle at both ends since he’d made it home. Sy hadn’t taken a leave since his first year in the military. His reasoning? 30 days go by too quick, no use in getting comfortable somewhere just to pack up and ship out again. This time though, he’d decided that he’d earned a bit of a break. That, and his mama was threatening to cut him out of the will if he didn’t show his face at least once this year. Not that he’d get much, of course; that wasn’t the principle of her empty threats. He knew it just as well as she did. She was starting to get up there in age, and time waits for no one. Especially not for Clayton Syverson. 

Groaning softly, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, heavy limbs moving a little slower than usual this morning. He stretched and yawned, balling up a fist to rub the sleep from his bleary eyes. A thought crossed his mind as he worked to get those old bones moving again and he stopped dead in his tracks, hand still over his left eye and mouth still agape. “Wait…how the fuck did I make it home?”

Sy took stock of the room around him. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. Everything was just as he’d left it. The tops of the dresser and chest of drawers were bare, as was the nightstand. The laundry basket that sat atop the trunk at the foot of the bed was still there, filled with neatly rolled t-shirts, socks, and skivvies. The only things that seemed to be out of sorts were his bed (since he hadn’t had the chance to make it yet), and his jeans that laid crumpled on the floor at his feet. “Weird,” he mused, and pushed himself to stand. Padding off to the bathroom for that blissful first piss of the day, he lifted the seat on the commode to relieve himself. Hold on. Lift the toilet seat? He hadn’t had to do that since he left home, nearly a decade ago. 

“What the fuck is goin’ on, now?” Must’ve been a visit from the toilet seat fairy, since he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stepped foot into this old house. Sy could feel the hair on the back of his neck start to prickle up as he washed his hands. When his eyes found his reflection in the mirror above the sink, he had to talk himself down again. 

“Get a grip, dickhead. No one broke in just ta’ use the can.” Wandering back out to the bedroom, he’d almost made it out into the hallway, when he’d heard it. One more step, and he might’ve missed it. The soft creak of old floorboards below gave him another moment of pause. Sy held his breath as he listened intently for a moment, almost willing the house to groan again under the shift of weight. Nothing. A rush of wind left his chest as he sighed and shook his head. He swore himself off of corn liquor, never again, and took the stairs two at a time on his way down to raid the fridge for something to eat. “Hmm…somethin’ smells good. Is that–”  Bacon. That ain’t no toilet fairy down there. Someone’s here.

Soft, tranquil humming echoed down the hall. Whoever it was seemed to like Fleetwood Mac, as they aimlessly flipped slice after slice of pork products into his skillet. A loud pop of grease made him, and the intruder, flinch. “Oww! Shit!” Then the tap squeaked, followed by the sound of rushing water, and Sy thanked God that he hadn’t had time to fix it yet. Good. He knew this old farmhouse like the back of his hand, so he knew exactly where the stranger would be standing when he'd walk in. They’d have their back to him, and he’d have the upper hand. Reaching blindly into the armoire to his right, he drew the revolver from the false bottom of the drawer and peaked around the corner of the doorframe. His thumb hovered over the hammer, ready to cock it, when what he saw gave him pause. Who he saw, was more like it. 

“I know you.” The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. Her head snapped up from the sink as she turned towards the sound of his voice. She was just as startled as he was. 

“Well, I sure hoped you would.” 

Turning off the tap and reaching for a towel to dab at her scalded hand, she leaned against the counter like she owned the place. Her hair spilled down her shoulders and back in effortless, mahogany waves. The shirt she wore was stolen, and wrinkled from sleep. The logo was faded yet unmistakable, and the hem fell to about the middle of her sunkissed thigh. Why was she wearing his Skynard shirt? She watched as his eyes grew wide with realization, and it made her laugh. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy,” the intruder smirked, and lifted up the shirt to reveal a pair of cut off levis beneath it. “You sure tried like hell, but…nothing happened. How’s the head?” 

Visions of last night’s bonfire flashed through his mind. It felt like flipping through a stack of polaroids. Everything was blurry, all soft and fuzzy at the corners. One minute, he was leaning against the tailgate of his truck, nursing a beer and watching as his friends acted a’fool. The next, Johnny was passing around a quart of his homemade moonshine and calling him a pussy for trying to turn it down.  Damnit, Johnny. Sy recalled that the eyes that stared him down from across the room now were the same ones that gleamed at him in the warmth of the flames that flickered between them the night before. If only he could remember how they got there. 

As if to read his mind, she nodded as she spoke, returning to the stove just in time to salvage the last of the bacon. “You, uh…you went a little hard with that paint thinner Johnny had. I just wanted to make sure you made it home alright. Hope that’s okay.”  Sy licked his lips slowly as he processed what she was trying to say, then gave a short nod. He removed his finger from the trigger and tucked the gun away again as smoothly as possible. He didn’t want to spook her. She made him breakfast, after all. 

“Right. Thank ya, Miss.” Deeming it safe again, he crossed the threshold into the kitchen and watched as she turned off the flame beneath the cast iron on the stovetop. He felt out of place, like he should be doing something to help, so he crossed the room to grab the orange juice from the fridge. 

“Merrin,” she finished for him, then reiterated. “I’m Merrin. And you’re…Sy? That's what they call you, right?” For the first time all day, Sy cracked a crooked smile her way and pulled down two clean glasses from the cabinet beside the sink. 

“Yes ma’am, but my mama named me Clay.” 

“Clay. Got it.”

Breakfast was served, and the two strangers sat down to eat it. Merrin filled him in on what he missed from the night before. Johnny bet Sarah that she couldn’t shotgun a beer faster than he could. He lost. Petey and Melissa snuck off to the woods to skinny dip in the creek and came back with poison oak in some pretty intimate places. Roscoe passed out in the grass, and Luke and James had to carry him back to the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday night in rural Texas. He asked about her, where she came from and what she was doing in his neck of the woods. She told him how she’d moved to town about six months ago, how she’d bought that cute little split level on the corner of Oak and Adams street. All Sy heard, though, was that he could’ve been sitting here with her six months ago. Maybe he outta come home more often.

–

“So,” he started, rinsing the suds from the face of his plate as he stood at the sink. They’d demolished that stack of bacon and eggs and were working to clean up after themselves. “How’d you end up in my shirt?”

Merrin smirked as she dried a glass and tucked it away again. “You don’t remember?” She was all too pleased to share this story. Sy laughed a deep, hearty chuckle that rattled loudly in his broad chest and shook his head. 

“Well…” she teased. “We’d been staring at each other most of the night. I’d been waiting for you to introduce yourself, but after a while, I just thought I must’a looked funny or somethin’.” 

“Mhm…” he hummed, his eyes never once leaving hers. He’d had a cup of coffee and a handful of Advil with his toast, so things were a little clearer now. He remembered watching her from afar as she chatted and giggled with her friends. He remembered thinking he’d want to remember the way she looked when she smiled his way. How he wanted to remember the way the light danced in her eyes when she laughed. She continued before he could ask her to carry on.

“When you finally got the courage to make a move, you decided that I looked a little thirsty. You grabbed me a beer, crossed the yard, tripped over a tree limb, and…poured it down my back.”

Sy winced. Surely she must be joking. One look at the smile on her face told him that she wasn’t, and he groaned. “Well shit, sugar. I’m real sorry. At least let me–”

“It’s already in the dryer. Don’t worry, big guy. You can pay me back when you take me out to dinner Friday night.” She gave a playful pat to his chest and grinned, brushing by him on her way to clear the rest of the table. Sy turned to follow her, his eyes grazing over the curve of her backside as she bent down to grab a napkin from the floor. He smiled, stacked the plate into the strainer and tossed a dish towel over his shoulder. 

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’.”

[aphrostarot]

A Message From Someone Who Loves You Pick a Pile

As this is a general collective reading, some things may not resonate with you or your situation. DO NOT try forcing it to fit. If you would like to book a personalized reading with me go to my profile and follow the instructions on my pinned post.

If you enjoyed this reading and wanted to support me further you can do so by tipping me in the link in my bio or by booking a personal reading with me.

Pile One:

Who are the people who chose this pile?

Seven of Water, Ace of Air, and The Fool:

You are a very optimistic person at your core. You embody all of the characteristics of a dreamer, someone who never lets the world bring them down. This is not to say that you don’t think things through or are blindly optimistic, actually, you are quite the opposite. You are a very intelligent person who doesn’t make any decisions before you think it through first. You have so many big dreams and can imagine yourself accomplishing almost anything you set your mind on. Nothing can hold you back or make you change your mind when you’ve decided that something will bring you joy. Many people would describe you as someone who is constantly smiling, always happy, and seeing the world for the good not the bad. You know that there is bad in the world, you just choose not to dwell on it.

Who is this person coming forward with a message?

Patience, Nine of Earth, and Page of Earth:

First off, I want to start by saying that for many of you, this person may be someone you knew who passed away. For others, this may be someone in your spiritual team, a deity, an angel, etc. While for some of you, this may be someone who is still in the material realm that you know. This person could be an earth sign (Virgo, Capricorn, or Taurus) or just have a very down-to-earth chill vibe. They may also be someone who is or was very interested in the Earth or space, either as a career or as a hobby.

This person is very practical and ambitious, when they are interested in something they set their mind to it and stop at nothing to complete it. They are very successful and self-sufficient because of their ability to push through all the chaos and keep at it until they see the results they want. You may admire them for their ability to almost always have a practical solution for almost anything that comes their way. They are always growing and looking for ways to grow which is something you may try to emulate.

What is their message to you?

Justice, Four of Fire, Nine of Air, and Six of Air:

You have been struggling with anxieties and fear for quite some time and they see that. They are saying to you that there are people in your life that are making you feel this despair and you need to let go of them. You may be waiting for the right moment to get revenge but, they are telling you that karma will come around no matter what, they will make sure of it, and you don’t need to worry about that. What you need to worry about right now is yourself and the energy you surround yourself with, make sure you are keeping your space and your energy clear of negativity so you can get out of this darkness you’ve been finding yourself in.

Why haven’t you been able to receive this message?

Five of Earth, Eight of Earth, and Strength Reversed:

For those of you who resonated with this person having passed away, you have been stuck in that grief that when you feel their presence trying to get your attention you ignore them because it is too hard for you to address it. This is why you have not been able to receive this message. For the other people that this person is still in the material realm, you have been feeling that loss and grief more towards yourself, and your belief in yourself. Since you have been surrounded by negative people and energy for so long, they have drained you of your energy, making you believe you aren’t worthy which is why you have been so blinded to this message trying to come through. This person has been trying to reach out to you, or maybe even has been telling you this but you have not been aware of it. You’ve been so distracted by the things in your life, maybe a hobby that you’ve been so focused on that when this person is talking to you, you may just brush them off. Or, you hear them trying to tell you that you need to let these people go because they are not good for you and you just don’t think you are strong enough or confident enough to do that or, you don’t want to cause any problems or drama so you stay in these negative relationships.

How can you better receive this message in the future?

Ten of Fire, and Messenger of Earth:

Patience is needed while you work through these messages. You have been in such a dark place and may be unaware of how the people in your life are the ones playing a huge role in why you have been in this darkness so, having this person trying to tell you to let them go comes as a surprise and your first reaction is to get defensive and shut them down. This is why you need patience, you are in such a sensitive state lately that allowing yourself time to process will really help you feel less frazzled and stressed out. It is also worth noting that you need to recognize how much responsibility it is to address the energies you keep in your life and when you start to approach cleansing these energies out of your life you need to be mature and sensitive towards others and towards yourself.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Three of Water:

The Three of Cups is the card of friendships and community, as well as celebrations and gatherings. So, having this as the overall energy of this reading is again, clarifying that you need to look at the energy you keep around you, especially in your friendships. When you want to throw a party or are invited to one, before you go or start inviting people, be careful and mindful of the people who you want around you so you don’t keep bringing yourself down.

There is a lot of Aries energy in this pile so, you could be an Aries or have strong Aries placements.

I was also getting a lot of images of bugs coming through while I was doing this reading, specifically stink bugs, so that may be a symbol for some of you.

More Specific Messages (Extended Reading)

Pile Two:

Who are the people who chose this pile?

King of Swords, Four of Swords, and Death:

You have gone through an ending of some sort in your life recently. I believe that this ending was a relationship, either a friendship, or a romantic relationship, and because of this, you have been feeling heartbroken, not knowing what happened in that relationship and why this ending happened. Because you have been feeling so upset and down in the dumps you have been giving yourself time to rest, wanting to hide away and not show your face because you know you won't be able to hide how you’ve been feeling. I was feeling very nauseous while doing this reading so, many of you may actually be experiencing physical sickness not just mental sickness because of this ending. For those of you who can’t hide away all day long and have to go out in public for work or for whatever reasons, I believe that you have been forcing a smile and pretending everything has been just fine in your life while you have actually been really struggling internally. Lots of you may be feeling like your brain has been in a fog like it’s been moving slower than usual. There was a very heavy, dark energy with this pile, I had to walk away and finish this reading another day. Many of you have been living in that darkness for quite some time now and I am sorry that you have been experiencing this, I hope that this reading can help bring some light and healing into your life.

Who is this person coming forward with a message?

The Lovers, Five of Swords, and The Empress:

I think this is why it came as such a shock to you that this person could ever do something to betray you because they are such a kind and nurturing person. They have such strong feminine energy, giving off strong maternal nurturing energy that you would've never thought that they would be the type to hurt you. I think that what you didn’t see though, was that this person was also hurting, they were going through some sort of conflict in their life when they did whatever it was that they did to hurt you. I believe they had no intentions of hurting you with whatever they did, it feels almost like it was a miscommunication between the both of you that caused this fallout. Based on the energy I am getting from this person I believe that they miss you and they never meant to hurt you. They are deeply saddened by what happened between the two of you.

What is their message to you?

Five of Wands, Three of Pentacles, Five of Cups, and Page of Swords:

Like I said above, this person is deeply saddened by the loss of you in their life and they really want to reach out to work things out with you. They may have already been trying to reach out but you have them blocked or just have ignored all of their messages. They want to get together with you and explain to you their side of the story. I don’t know if they want to start a relationship with you again, but I do know they want to talk with you to explain everything that happened. It feels to me that they don’t like leaving things on a bad note and they want to resolve these issues so that there is no bad blood between you anymore.

Why haven’t you been able to receive this message?

Seven of Wands, Knight of Swords, Two of Cups, and Two of Swords:

When you were with this person you thought they were a soul mate of yours that you two were destined to be in each other's lives forever, but then they did something that betrayed you and now you are in a state of defending your ego. Not wanting to even see this person because it hurts too much and you have put up walls trying to protect yourself from getting hurt and embarrassed like that again. However, all of that being said, there is a part of you that wants to hear this person out because you still care for this person deeply and that makes you even angrier because you wish you were the type of person who could just drop somebody without thinking of it but you’re not, you are very sensitive and this may be something you are embarrassed about. On top of all of that, you may be the type of person who doesn’t open up to someone very easily and you open up to this person only for them to betray you, which is another reason why you are not willing to hear this person out. You are very embarrassed and hurt at this moment and are on the defensive, trying to protect yourself.

How can you better receive this message in the future?

Queen of Swords, The World, and The Hanged Man Reversed:

I believe that there is a part of you that understands that this person is desperate to communicate with you and that part wants to hear them out but you are on the defensive and are letting your pride get in the way of this. What you need to do is let this go, stop letting your ego dictate your moves at this time. I know this is hard to do but once you do this you will heal parts of yourself you feel will never heal. The Queen of Swords is someone who is very good at making decisions without letting their feelings get in the way and this is something you need to embrace for you to hear this person out. You are moving nowhere in your spiritual and healing journey by letting your ego drive you in this moment and your guides are telling you here that by letting this side of you go, you will be able to move forward.

With all of the swords coming out, there is strong Air energy in this reading. So, you could be a Libra, Aquarius, or Gemini or have these placements in your chart. There is also strong Cancer energy with this pile as well so you could have Cancer in your chart or this person could also be a Cancer.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Ten of Swords:

The Ten of Swords is the card of victimization and betrayal. So, this is another confirmation that you are feeling this betrayal and feeling like a victim at this moment.

More Specific Messages (Extended Reading)

Pile Three:

Who are the people who chose this pile?

Seven of Pentacles, Seven of Wands, Six of Wands, and Five of Swords:

Right off of the bat pile three it seems that some conflicting energies are coming out for you. On one hand, you are seen as a very successful and patient person who embodies the definition of perseverance and contemplation. However, on the other hand, you are also in a very difficult place right now. Internally you are struggling. You may believe that you have to constantly prepare yourself for opposition in everything you do in life. This may be a defense mechanism that you have developed because of people in your life constantly belittling and second-guessing every step you take. However, based on the energy of this reading I do not believe you need to be defending yourself. I don't believe that there is anyone in your life at this current moment who has the intention of putting you down. But, you still feel like there is so, you are in a place at the moment where you are jumping down people's throats for no reason. I believe that you are very spiritual. You have strong intuition and you know this but you may be afraid of it, so you stuff it down and ignore it which is not helping you at all. This may be why you have been struggling to discern whether or not people have negative intentions toward you or not.

Who is this person coming forward with a message?

Ten of Wands, Seven of Swords, and Ace of Cups:

This person who is coming forward with a message for you is a mentor of some sort. For many of you this may be a deity that you worship who is helping you in your spiritual practice, for others this may be your inner child coming forward with a message for you. This person may seem like they are intentionally hiding things from you and not giving you the full picture, which is why I believe that for many of you, this is a deity that you work with. This person has a lot of love for you and is coming forward with open arms, wanting you to feel their love and warmth, but, they are also struggling deeply right now. I feel like this struggle they are facing is because of you. As I said before you are highly spiritual but you have been ignoring that side of yourself and since this person is a mentor for you, specifically in spirituality, they are struggling because you are not listening to their advice. It’s almost like you speak with them sometimes and ask them for help but you don’t actually listen to what they have to say to you and you aren’t actively working with them which is what is causing this struggle for them because they don’t understand why you are wanting to work with them when you don’t actually do any of the work.

What is their message to you?

King of Cups, Five of Wands, The Fool, and Quote:

The quote that is specific to this deck came out for you pile three. It says; “What we see in the symbology of tarot derives in large measure from our own intuition and, once revealed, reflects back upon each of us to further enrich our lives.” As I said above pile three, you are highly intuitive but you do not tap into it. Instead, you choose to ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist, and to that, this person is telling you that your intuition is not a bad thing, in fact, once you start listening to it, it will actually improve your quality of life. The King of Cups represents an advisor, someone who is very balanced between their head and their heart. This person wants you to know that they are in your life to help you, to guide you and it is time you start to actually listen to what they have to say. They say you worry too much, that you think way too much about the what-ifs, and that you are letting your ego get in the way too much when it comes to your spirituality. Instead, you need to just let go, and let your intuition guide you with the aid of this person. It can be troublesome when you have control issues to let go and let something or someone else take control but, it’s important to remember that your intuition is also a part of you. So, when you’re letting go and letting your intuition take over it is still you in control just not the part of you that over-intellectualizes everything. Overall, it seems like their message to you is to stop hiding from your spirituality and to actually start tapping into it. It’s time for you to start living a spiritually fulfilled life.

Why haven’t you been able to receive this message?

Page of Cups, Knight of Pentacles, and The Star:

I think this is where I am getting your inner child coming forward. It seems as though your inner child is the reason you are not able to receive this message and I think this is because a lot of your defense mechanisms are coming from the wounded part of your inner child. You as you are currently, are very hard-working and practical, however, your inner child is the opposite. It seems like you have some very deep wounds from your childhood that you have not dealt with which is what has been causing you to block out these messages. Since you have not healed your inner child, and instead choose to ignore that part of yourself as well, you are stuck and will continue to be stuck until you address these issues that are holding you back and making you not see these messages that are coming through.

How can you better receive this message in the future?

The Emperor, The High Priestess, and King of Swords:

What is interesting to me, pile three, is that you have control issues yet, when it comes to healing parts of yourself and working on your spirituality, you act as though it is out of your control. I know I said above that you need to give up your control issues when it comes to your spirituality and listening to this mentor but that does not mean that you just give up and do nothing. You are still in control of your life and are in the driver's seat of your life so, what this means when it comes to your spirituality and your healing journey, is you need to listen to the advice of this mentor and then make the moves for yourself. Give up your control and need to be the one who makes all the decisions. Instead, let this mentor guide you while you implement their practice and advice into your life.

Bottom of the deck energy:

Six of Cups:

The whole underlying energy of this reading is nostalgia and memories. What this confirms for me is that some healing needs to be done when it comes to your past traumas because they are what is holding you back right now.

The colors gold and purple were big with this pile so, they may have some significance to you.

For some, it may be that you should start wearing gold jewelry, or surrounding yourself with gold decor while you practice your spirituality.

Fruit was a big symbol with this pile as well, specifically red fruit. To me, this is a message from this deity that they want you to start eating more red fruit and if you have an altar for this deity they may want you to leave them some red fruits.

I was also hearing “days of the week” so, some of you may need to start scheduling times throughout the days to sit down and work on your spirituality. For some of you, this may be the only way that you will actually do it.

More Specific Messages (Extended Reading)

[wallacepolsom]

Wallace Polsom, Life and Times of a Blind Optimist: Lost (05 Jan 2024), paper collage, 16.2 x 27.6 cm.

[indouloureux]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 (part one)

summary: she sought for validation; he sought for acceptance. two juveniles who believed they’d spend the rest of their lives playing red guitars and borrowed claviers, (along with the trepidation of isolation), meet in one boring afternoon, and find themselves reveling in caterwaul voices, laying in a field of colossal grass, and writing lyrics with botched ballpens and crumpled papers.

— or: two people bond over emotional trauma, and fall in love through great manifestos

warnings: 1hr reading time, slow burn, friends to lovers, slight teenage angst, jealousy, tooth-rotting fluff, eddie being a sap, weird manifestos, reader being adopted, eddie and reader both having a self discovery whilst falling in love, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), me not knowing how to write both piano and guitar playing properly, deep words (sorry guys open google), lengthy, idiots in love, a love story about two sad teens going through a phase (jk) eddie has a bit of a corruption thing (not kink) bc he introduces reader into new things lol!

explicit warnings (for part two): virgin!reader, virgin!eddie; piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, overstimulation, first time, soft, vanilla porn, mentions of blood, handjob, cum eating, biting, marking, missionary, maybe soft!dom eddie bc he watched porn a lot and thinks he "knows his way", sweet but short aftercare

a/n: this is a story of fiction. i do not know the locations in both indiana and illinois. this is written in the way i prefer it to be to fit its story telling, and i am well aware of the things i write in here, and how i write this story. based on the song '1979' by the smashing pumpkins. the whole lyrics layout inspired by @/upsidedownwithsteve! 1979 is like one of my fav songs ever and i wanted to write a story about it. sorry it took a while to post :( hope you guys all enjoy.

PART TWO; SERIES MASTERLIST

Shakedown 1979

Cool kids never have the time

On a live wire right up off the street

You and I should meet

In a field miles away from a town that’s cursed him, Eddie lays in the colossal grass with his hands on his chest and his eyes closed, the sun blinding him through the thin skin of his eyelids. Growing weeds tickle his inked skin, dirt stains his leather jacket, and ants cross over his hair; he does not mind one bit.

He daydreams of the sky. How accepting they’d be — how they wouldn't mind his disheveled, long hair, or his punk style and see him as one of them; One of the clouds who form themselves into whatever they want and float freely across the cerulean aether atmosphere. A place where he can be himself, where he can bring his darkness into that white airy cotton, even when it turns grey or when the night begins. Eddie would be himself, and no one would judge.

Ringed fingers touch the grass when he removes one from his chest, soft beneath his fingertips that he massages. Eddie hums, taking in the calming sound of air swishing the trees, the faint sound of passing cars, the optimistic birds, and the sound of Dustin talking to his girlfriend with a sickenly high-pitched and lovey-dovey voice. Which reminds him:

“Hey, Henderson,” he turns around, laying on his stomach. Eddie takes a quick glance at his watch — 7:05 am. “Wrap it up lovebirds. We gotta go to school.”

Dustin nods his head, his cap blocking his eyes. “Yeah hold on. I gotta go, Suzie-poo. I’ll talk to you later, I promise. I miss you already. I love you.”

A giggle. “I love you more, Dusty-bun.”

“I love you more multiplied by all the stars in the galaxy.”

“No, I love you—”

“Alright,” Eddie suddenly takes the microphone from Dustin, shooting him a judging look with a raised brow before he speaks. “Sorry, Suzie-poo. Gotta take Dusty here to school or else you won't be seeing each other and he’s gonna spend the rest of his life running up this hill crying. Bye-bye now.”

He almost laughs at the thought of Suzie’s shocked face when he turns the radio off. And maybe that same laugh comes out when he sees Dustin’s horrified expression when he realized he’d — or Eddie — had just cut her off. He looks back at Eddie, mouth agape, before he playfully punches his shoulder.

“Asshole,” Dustin kicks his shin. “That was my girlfriend, you idiot. She’s gonna be pissed that you cut her off!”

“Nah, she loves you too much,” he stands up, patting the dirt off his knees and his jacket, fixing his hair. “Now come on, Dusty bunny, we gotta go to school.”

“Don’t call me that,” Dustin swats his hand away when Eddie tries to ruffle his hair by slipping it beneath his hand, but the kid smiles anyway. Anything for the affection he gives. “You know, you’ll be like this one day,”

Eddie plays with his keys, walking down the hill in heavy footsteps that threaten to twist their ankles. “What’d you mean?”

Dustin hops over the fence, followed by Eddie who grunts loudly. “Being sweet. Disgusting. In love.”

He scoffs, walking over to the side of his van and opening the door, but not before he looks at Dustin over the hood of his van with a look. “So you admit that you and Suzie are disgusting?”

“From the words of you, Steve, Lucas and Mike — who actually both have girlfriends — yes, I admit that we are disgusting. Disgustingly sweet.” 

They close the doors simultaneously, the keys jingling when Eddie shoves the keys in the ignition. “You know, when I was fifteen, I spent my time playing the guitar and studying songs. My fingertips were bleeding, Henderson,” he shows him his palm, letting Dustin see the faint scar lines on his fingertips. “I never dated a girl. So I highly doubt I’d fall in love.”

“The only reason you never dated was because of your reputation,” Dustin throws his bag behind him. “And you’ll fall in love. I bet you will. You may be cynical and mad, but you’ll find the right person, Eddie,” he smiles at him. “Trust me.”

“Yeah yeah,” he shakes his head, the car shaking into a start and Mötley Crüe starts blasting that startles the poor boy beside him. “We’re gonna take this bet to my grave, then.”

Eddie Munson has only fallen in love once. When his Uncle, Wayne, had come home with a red guitar after his night, tiring shifts at the plant. He remembers clearly the way his eyes lost focus of the world and remained on that guitar, like the center of attention; the only attraction in this terrifying world. Eddie remembers the way his heart pounded like he’d fallen down a roller coaster, and remembered the way his tears had mimicked said coaster when he hugged his Uncle and sobbed out his gratitude.

That had been five years ago. When he was fifteen. And he swears he’ll never fall in love again.

Because love—in his own concept—was a dangerous game. More dangerous than when you decide to go and attack Vecna powerless in Dungeons and Dragons, or taunting a swarm of demobats. It’s a game with unknown intentions and arduous side quests that render you defeated before you even get to love itself. Dangerous and tiring, if you’d shorten it. And no one wants to delve into a love so treacherous if you’ll end up getting hurt anyway. 

It’s what Eddie thinks; understood. How he perceives love and what he thinks love is with his semi-nihilistic mind despite never having to fight for love. It’s a game he refuses to partake in and narrate, and would rather watch people struggle with it from the sidelines (with a beer in hand and a freshly rolled blunt in his mouth, as he’d imagined).

So he prays Dustin would win that game. Despite being miles away from his girlfriend; give him all the makeshift spears and shields made of garbage lids and dull nails. He cares so much for him that he actually hopes their love will succeed, that he’d go out not scathed but covered in grime and a triumphant smile. Even now when Eddie looks beside him to see the lovesick smile on Dustin Henderson’s face who replays every memory he had with Suzie during that one summer.  

He reaches over to give his friend a pat on the shoulder, which gifts him a bright smile before he races off to Hawkins High with eternal dread.

—

His day wasn’t at all dreadful. It felt like a normal day.

Probably because Jason Carver wasn't at school today due to a foot injury, and his little balls-in-laundry-baskets friends had no leader to bark at them around all day. They did nothing but practice and sit quietly at their tables, and so did Eddie.

Albeit the day being normal, he’d still get his usual judging stares and glares. Eddie Munson wearing a Dio shirt today? Freak. Eddie Munson wearing shoes other than his Reeboks? Freak. Eddie Munson trimmed his bangs today? Freak. Eddie Munson’s not wearing his vest? Still a freak.

He kept his head low, eyes on the ballpen that draws on his palm as he walks through the emptying hallway. Dustin had gone with Steve Harrington, and the rest had decided to leave early. Eddie? He’d just gotten out of detention for spacing out during class. Why detention? He'd never know why. Even Ms. O’ Donnel thinks he’s a freak. 

Eddie whistles. Mandy. Something new and unusual, a song he’d heard from Wayne early in the morning that he too whistles as he makes his coffee and smokes outside the porch. He’d woken up to the sound of it for two weeks and he finds himself subconsciously copying his Uncle.

His footsteps echo in the walls of Hawkins High. He jumps and spins and occasionally taps his fingers across the lockers covered in stickers, if not dents from rowdy students. The sight of the exit doors surprises him when he turns right, and a bright smile comes up to his face when he sees them. Eddie pulls his keys out of his back pockets, shoves his pen inside, and continues to whistle like he’s taking a walk on a quiet, sunny day at a park.

Until by the time he’s about two rooms away, he hears the sound of a piano. Soft and ear-pleasing, yet startling since it’s been an hour after school ended and no one, not even the teachers other than Ms. O’ Donnel should be here. Eddie stops his whistling, eyebrows furrowing as he hears the piano play the same tune he’d been whistling.

And then a voice. Far and hushed, like a ghost. Unseen through the walls, floating and yearning to be noticed; so they sing to be noticed instead. Eddie’s heart palpitates a little in panic, wondering if the ghost is singing the same song he’s whistling to get his attention. His hands curl into fists and prepare to run away.

But he thinks of disturbing whoever's in that room. He also thinks he should just go home because it probably could just be a ghost, seeing as half the victims from the Starcourt fire had been students and they’d probably come here for refuge in the afterlife. But Eddie’s curious. Maybe taking a glimpse over the small window on the door and seeing a ghost would cause no harm other than a possible possession, right?

So he tiptoes his way to the door he recognized as the music room. He’d seen this room once when he snuck in here during middle school and he needed a guitar for Gareth or else they would have lost that talent show (they did. No adult would let a child playing quote unquote, Satan’s Music, win).

Carefully, he peeks sideways through the small window, where he sees through the blurry glass; a girl sitting in front of a keyboard. Her back to him, head bobbing slightly at every key she presses, showing merely the tip of her nose and the plump apples of her cheeks when she sways lightly to her gentle playing. Eddie quietly shoves his keys back inside his pockets, pressing his ear against the glass, and watches the grace take upon her fingers. 

“I see a memory. I never realized how happy you made me,” 

A voice so celestial, like an angel he’s never seen but envisaged. Maybe like an angel he’d imagined in the clouds up above; a voice so warm like the summer breeze, soft like silk and the denim of his vest. It’s inviting and it’s hypnotizing, with every perfect lilt. 

Something new from his usual heavy ululating music. Something he might like and never get used to. 

And it’s tempting. So tempting that he finds himself opening the door harshly that the doorknob slams against the thin wall of the room that even startles Eddie.

“Oh Mandy, well you came—”

You scream, hands slamming on the keyboard that makes a distorted sound of unmatched keys. Eddie’s eyes widen and his hands raise in defense, hiding behind them when your own hand comes up to gasp into your palm, horrified by his sudden arrival. His heart pounds against his chest, hands coming down to clasp at his pec. And he’s staring at your petrified look.

“Mother of God,” you whimper. 

“I’m sorry!” he closes the door behind him hastily. “It’s, uh, I heard you. And I thought you sounded… great,” Eddie’s shoulders deflate, sighing when a small smile comes up to your face.

“Really?” you finish for him. “Sorry. I- I thought I was alone.”

“No, it’s okay.” Eddie finds himself smiling with you. More at the way there’s dimples at the bottom of your mouth and your teeth show slightly through your lips. 

He stares at you, longer than he intends to, a sense of familiarity waves down him when he traces the slope of your nose and the thick eyelashes that meet with your cheeks when you blink. Eddie thinks you’re pretty — especially with your small smile that makes his heart feel weird when he realizes he’s the receiving end of it. A faint picture flashes in the back of his head, and he limply points at you. “Hey, uh, I kinda remember you,”

Your eyebrows raise a bit, hands falling to your lap. “You do?”

“Yes! I think…” his eyes narrow. “Middle school.” 

“Yeah,” you tell him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It was back in middle school.”

Yes, he remembers you. Only that blurry picture in the back of his mind only focusing on the small pigtails of a girl shorter than him, the ends of a borrowed purple dress that tickled his knees, and that similar smile of yours except you’d been missing a tooth on the bottom row of your teeth that matched his. And that voice, still sweet but deeper than it used to be, still entices him like it used to do.

Eddie gawps. “Holy shit,” he says your name with pure shock, the smile on his lips starting to strain his cheeks. But he doesn't care, not when you’re prettily smiling with him. “You— you played that same song! Mandy, right? You played that too?” 

“I did, yeah,” he walks over to you, hands on his lap and slightly bent. Eddie walks until he’s standing beside the bench you’re sitting on, hand grazing the plastic of the borrowed keyboard. “Mandy by Barry Manilow. Yep.”

“I’m Eddie Munson. Although I'm sure you already knew that,” he offers his hand, hoping you won’t notice the trembling and the silent clinking of his rings. You smile at him, taking his hand into yours and he wonders why even the handshaking felt familiar.

And your hand is warm. Soft like the grass he’s touched earlier this morning, feeling the same small scars in the pads of your fingertips when his thumb slyly runs through them. They were light and they were pretty, your own dainty little ring made by a wire that loops around a gemstone was a hard contrast to the abominable ones on his hand. Almost like an angel shaking the devil’s hand. 

Eddie wishes to feel this way again. How a simple touch ignites something new, yet the fire starts within him that he can't find. 

“I know,” you place your hand back on your lap, his own falling disappointedly on his side. “Sat behind you during History.”

He nods his head down on the bench you’re sitting on, asking for permission. You scoot aside, motioning for him to sit beside you; and Eddie, for the first time in his life, shyly does. He sits beside you, thighs almost an inch apart as he nervously watches you toy with the black keys. “How come I remember you a bit in middle school but not…?”

“Your early years of high school?” you press on a key he doesn't know. “I left after middle school. Moved to Queens, for my dad’s work. Came back here because my nana got sick.”

“Oh,” he plays with his rings, pulls them up before he puts them back on, a slight indentation on his fingers. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” 

Eddie exhales, feeling his heart unwind when you begin to play a steady beat, watching as you press down on the plastic keys. “I came inside because I thought you sounded good,” he nods his head to you. “Your voice. It’s nice. And, because I also thought that ghosts might have heard me whistling and decided to play with me. Scare me shitless.” 

“Ghosts?” you repeat, pressing on a key that emits a deep tune. 

He hums. “Hawkins is filled with dead people. Right beneath this school and those roads you walk on,” he points behind him. “‘ve you heard of the mall fire last summer?”

“I think so,” you furrow your eyebrows. “My dad’s friend called him about that.”

“It was horrifying,” his eyebrows meet for a split second when your eyes widen and you look away from him. Eddie smiles a little. “So, piano huh?”

You look at him again. “Well, technically it’s a keyboard but…it makes the sound of a piano,” you slam a finger onto a black key. 

Eddie has gotten to the point where he realizes there’s no future in this conversation if he doesn't make up another question. And he doesn't want this to end. He just met you again, and he’d like to stay here a bit more even though he’s been craving to leave the school an hour ago. Anything to get to know you a bit more before he sees what’s going to happen next.

“Can you play me a song?” he asks quietly, feeling embarrassed by his diffidence. “Only if you want to.”

“Of course,” you smile at him, fists clenching that your index scratches on the cuticles of your thumb. He wants to stop you, but he worries about crossing borders and you’re probably just as nervous as he is as you say, “what song?”

“Mandy,” he deadpans. You blink at his tone, which makes him clear his throat and speak again in a rather forced cheerfulness that means no harm but to correct himself. “Please?” 

You let out a short chuckle, unclenching your fists to spread them out and stretch. “Yeah sure.”

You began with grace, you performed with aplomb, and his ever-curious mind was captivated by how simple it was for you to play and croon at the same time, as if he didn't know how to do it himself. Eddie watches silently, sings in his head with your gentle humming; remembers how he’d caught Wayne swaying to this song once and thinking he looked funny and at peace, wearing his usual red flannel with a cigarette in his mouth and eyes closed. He looked high back then, unperceived that his nephew had been standing there to the side with crossed arms and an amused smile.

Is this what his uncle felt? Finding peace in music other than electric guitars and heavy drums? Lacking all that yowling rasps and instead replaced with a voice that runs through velvet flawlessly like yours. Where he sways and taps his feet, watching your slender hands switch between keys without having the pads of your fingertips stuck in between them despite him noticing the slight shakiness in your hands, dwelling in on the missing memory that scratches on the back of his mind as he watches you play. 

“Caught up in a world of uphill climbing, the tears are in my mind and nothin' is rhyming,” you take a shy glance at him, eyes flitting to the redness of his ears. Eddie smiles to take your attention, making his ears turn redder when you smile back at him. “I…I forgot the next lyrics,”

Eddie chuckles. “So have I,” he lies. He just doesn’t want to sing. Not in front of you, at least. He worries he might crack his voice and he could just jump out that window.

There’s a faint sound of a door slamming shut from outside that makes you jump a bit, which makes Eddie turn around to where the sound was before he completely ignores it.

Trying to hide the disappointment that flows from him when you stop playing, he focuses on the fact that you’re looking at him as you do so. Which twists his heart in a way that’s far from bad, and tries to distract himself by clapping like one of the people he wishes he had after his shows. “That was it, all I could remember,” you motion to the piano, flushing bashfully. “I- stop,”

You laugh, your hand barely touching his wrist but motions for him to settle it down. “Bravo,” he smirks at you, wiggling his eyebrows. “That was amazing. Talented. You could be the next, I don’t know, Billy Joel.”

“I barely finished the song,” you nudge your knee with his. “I actually think I made a few mistakes but, uh, thanks,” Eddie fights the urge to remove the lone lint from your hair. He smiles at you instead, settling his hands on his lap. “What about you? Still playing the guitar?”

Eddie’s shoulder bumps with yours when you sway gently as your right hand presses all five fingers onto the keys. He can't stop looking at you, anywhere but your eyes really, so they mostly stay at your cheeks. Sometimes shyly at the plumpness of your lips chastely, or at the dimples threatening to deepen. “Still do. We play at The Hideout every weekend for some cash. We’ve got a crowd of about five…drunks.”

He feels that unfamiliar sensation of heat blooming in his cheeks when you laugh. It’s as soft and inviting as the piano that your hands rest on. “You should come see us,” Eddie continues, nudging his shoulder with yours. “That way I can tell my uncle we’ve got six people watching us now.”

“Hm,” you remove your hands from the keyboard, copying his slumped posture albeit a bit more poise. “I might think about it. If you play me a song too,” you raise your brow at his grimace. “What? It’s only fair.”

“Fine,” Eddie crosses his legs over the small bench, walking around with his hair twirling over his shoulder as he does so. His eyes never leave you even as he crosses the room to pick up an acoustic guitar. “Damn room doesn’t even have an electric guitar. Amplifier’s at the gym and I hate that place.”

You laugh, watching him take the neck of the brown guitar and grab a monobloc from a stack beside the door. He sets it beside the keyboard, awkwardly sitting down before he sets the guitar on his lap eagerly. Eddie smiles at you, grabbing a part of his hair and hiding his mouth behind it bashfully.

“What song, m’lady?” he peers at you through his eyelashes. Eddie feels triumphant when he makes you laugh again, thinking he could watch you push your hair behind your ear with a demure look any time of the day.

Your shoulders raise into a shrug, the smile on your face falling a bit. “Dunno. Ever heard of The Outfield?” 

“On the radio. When my uncle listens to music early in the morning,” his fingers slide across the strings, pressing randomly on frets. “Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I listen to music other than metal.”

“Shocker,” you gasp dramatically. “You’ve ruined your image for me. I don’t see you as a metalhead anymore. You’re merely a commoner. A pretender.”

“You wound me,” he pouts at you. “Come on, (y/n). Give me a song,”

“Alright,” you rest your elbow on the keyboard, cheek on your fist. “Your Love. The Outfield. Think you know it or you’re just pretending?”

“Think I might have studied this for… other embarrassing purposes. But yes, I know it.” He clears his throat. “Prepare to cover your ears,”

Your Love wasn’t a song that was merely played by a guitar. However, an acoustic wouldn’t hurt. Not when he’s doing it for you. Eddie fears pressing his fingers on the wrong string, or a strain from his voice because that would just be plain humiliating. 

Your observance adds fuel to the fire of his confidence, while it also simultaneously makes him nervous ‘cause you’re watching; not just listening, not judging. You’re watching him like you actually want to see him play. And as far as he could remember, you’re the first girl to actually pay attention to what he’s playing without any cruel thoughts. He wonders if you think he’s great at this, just as much as he thought you were remarkable in the whole piano thing. 

Come on. E, C minor, B, E- no A. A, goddamnit.

When he almost misplaced his finger on the wrong string, he almost cried. But you’re not looking at his face anyway, perhaps too enthralled with the gentle sound of plucking; the deep baritone-like sound that the brass string produces makes you sway similarly like his earlier. 

“I ain't got many friends left to talk to, nowhere to run when I'm in trouble,” he shoots you a nervous glance, and he’s almost thankful that you’re looking at his hands. “You know I'd do anything for you, stay the night but keep it undercover,”

“You’ve got a nice voice,” his fingers slide across the brass string so quickly that it almost burns his fingertips when his voice dies in his throat and he looks up at you. “S-sorry.”

Eddie sets the guitar down, the flat of its back on his lap and knees. “No, it’s alright. Thanks,” you smile warily when he scratches nervously at the guitar. “So um- you gonna come see us in The Hideout? No pressure. Just, so I can show you that I really am into metal.”

Your lips tug downwards into an upside-down smile that teases him. Eddie tips his head back, flashing you a toothy grin as you say. “I’ll see to it, Eddie Munson,” you take a glance at your watch. “U-unfortunately though, I’ve got to go.”

He fights the urge to voice his disdain through a quiet groan of protest when he sees you reach on the other side of the bench to take your bag and sling it over your shoulder before you stand up from your seat. Eddie places the guitar on the ground, nervously fiddling with his fingers. “Um. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Stopping in your movements, your thumb slides between the leather strap of your bag and your shoulders. “Yeah. Sure. If you’ll see me, anyway.”

“I’m sure I will,” he offers you a smile.

He watches you leave with a sad frown. 

But later that night though, when he talks to Dustin on the RT, he remembers telling him that the girl in the purple dress wore ripped jeans now and a yellow blouse covered in pink flowers, her hair down in loose waves over her shoulders that enticed him. Eddie remembers telling him you’d looked mature, prettier, and that maybe you’d come to his show next week.

What he doesn’t tell him, though, is that he remembers every spot on your face that had dimples when you smile. That your voice was like petal silk that pleases his fingertips as he rubs it between them; or that your hands had similar scars like his, only you’ve gotten them for a different reason. How graceful you’d looked playing the keyboard like you’d been the only one in that room. 

A veridical sense of déjà vu makes his mind tingle and his heart twist. In his bed, Eddie has his hands over his stomach, staring up his ceiling with a poster of Tiamat he once saw during a yard sale that he bought. But he thinks of you, the exiguous curiousness grows the longer he remembers that bright smile on your face. And he feels nothing but the want inside him that yearns to see you again.

Justine never knew the rules

Hung down with the freaks and ghouls

No apologies ever need be made

I know you better than you fake it

“Lost in a purple hill, shake these zipper blues? Hey, Nancy, do you think—”

A shoulder bumps you, too hard to be taken as an accident. Your notebook falls to the ground, ball pen tight in your hand as you let out a startled gasp. You look at the boy first, whose eyes widen in embarrassment as they flicker between the journal on the floor and to your agape mouth. 

You should have expected it. The halls were crowded and there were very eager students to enter the cafeteria and take tables before someone else would. But still, you’re taken aback by the sudden impact, even after almost squeezing yourself against the lockers just so you would avoid this kind of incident.

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry,” 

You give him a tight smile. “‘S alright,” he apologizes through a useless smile before he’s being dragged away by his friends. Nancy spins around at the upheaval, and follows the direction of your eyesight before she frowns in disdain.

Asshole didn’t even bother to pick it up for you. Or ask if you were alright.

“What a prick,” she clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth. You ignore the slight throb on your shoulder, bending down to pick up your notebook and wipe whatever dirt it's picked up from the ground. “Is it ruined?”

Shaking your head, you close it shut and hug it close to your chest. “No. It’s alright. I’m just lucky the floor doesn’t have any piss or something. Or else I would have…punched that guy,”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head. She turns back around, clutching your wrist to go through the sweaty sea of rushing students. “I doubt that—ow, hey!”

Your face hits Nancy’s permed coils, nose meeting the Fabergé glory of her shampoo. You grimace, moving away to see your friend rubbing her shoulder before you see Patrick McKinney furrow his eyebrows in worry at his mistake. 

“Sorry. You alright, Wheeler?” he reaches out to rub her shoulder chastely, but Nancy shrugs it off, nodding. Patrick’s eyes relax, taking a glance at you before he realizes he doesn’t know who you are before he pats her shoulder carefully. “Alright. Sorry, again.”

It was difficult to hide the frown that paints itself on your face when Nancy simply grabs your wrist, guiding you around the crowd once more. And there’s this annoying itch in your head that keeps on reminding you how unlucky you’d been that you bumped into an apathetic guy who hadn’t even bothered to ask if you were alright whereas Nancy got sympathetic eyes and genuine concern. 

And you thought, well that’s because they knew her. Having to date Steve Harrington when he was still here, who’d been part of the basketball team himself, of course they knew her. You? The guy looked at you like some random crayon found on the ground. So you tell yourself to get over it; they don’t care and neither do you. It was a simple bump. Your friends would have asked if you were okay.

Nancy didn’t.

Well, she was distracted.

No, she wasn’t.

Shut up.

The cafeteria doors are left open with the people that surges through. Nancy stands on her tiptoes, searching for the boy with glasses that made his eyes larger and took up half his face — Fred, you remember; you practically sink onto her shoulder in fear of accidentally bumping into someone again. And fuck, how muscly was that guy for your shoulder to hurt?

When she spots him, Nancy’s quick to drag you to her side and sit you down beside her in front of Fred, who’d immediately chatted about this thing he’s seen somewhere you don't bother understanding. But when his eyes land on you, his talking stops. Lips snapping shut and he’s staring at you with those wide eyes of his, the scar on his cheek bending when he smiles cheekily at you, his forearms resting side by side on the table as he leans closer.

“I heard a rumor that you were with Eddie Munson yesterday,” he narrows his eyes playfully. Nancy whips her head at you, astounded with the new gossip she’s heard, especially now that it included you.  

Nervous with the attention diverted to you, you move back, fingers fidgeting on your lap. “What? Where’d you hear that?”

“Andy saw you.”

“Who’s Andy?”

“That guy who kinda looks like Arnold Schwarze-something.”

Nancy snorts. “He does not look like him.”

Frowning, you lean closer. “What was he doing there yesterday?”

Beside you, Nancy opens a pack of pudding pie that she quietly offers to you. You shake your head politely, offering her a short smile before Fred asks for your attention with a simple tap on your elbow. “He left something by the locker room. Then he said he caught Eddie Munson sitting beside you on a small chair inside the music room being…shit, Nance, what’d he say?”

She shrugs, mouthful. “Dunno. Cute? Or, weird?”

“Somewhere along those lines, but we’re sugarcoating it for you,” he leans closer. “You do know who Eddie Munson is, right? Like, what people say?”

Nancy reaches behind you to take the Hi-C juice box in your bag and puts the straw in for you, shoving it in front of you that you gladly take and quietly thank her for as you say, “That he’s a freak? Just because he dresses out of the trend doesn’t mean he’s a freak, y’know?”

“Steve used to think he was,” Nancy raises her eyebrows at you. “I mean, I don’t think he’s a freak. He does have an influence on my brother though. He’s growing his hair out. Like a mullet, or something.”

“Well he’s not a freak,” you bring the small plastic straw to your lips, the sweet orange-y flavor of the mechanized juice filling your taste buds. “He’s nice. He said I had a…nice voice.”

No one’s said that to me before.

“That’s sweet,” Fred pouts. “Don’t know. Maybe he’s planning on luring you in as a sacrifice.”

Eddie? Cult leader luring you in for some sacrifice? The same person who’d smiled kindly, watched you play the piano like he was actually interested in your performance and applauded you like he’d been watching a breathtaking opera at the same time, invited you to watch his band at some dingy restaurant and thought ghosts might have been haunting him?

His style might say otherwise—with all those brutish rings he’d harbored so proudly and his disheveled mullet-ish hair. But with those wide, curious eyes that watched you like the most interesting flower blooming from the iced frozen ground, a voice so benign and placid who’d praised you in a way anybody else wouldn’t? No. He’s not a cult leader. Or a freak.

And you’d only known him from the mystifying, blurry memories and the couple minutes you’d spent with him yesterday. 

That same Eddie who you found with a small frown that lifts into a charming smile when his eyes find you. Briefly does he stop talking with his friends from across the room when your eyes link with his. And Eddie presents you a smile so pretty it makes you dizzy; with his style different, that same leather jacket with a red flannel beneath and a band shirt you don’t recognize, but he had the same fondness in his look that makes your heart flutter wildly like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. 

You feel a spark of electricity ignite in the tendrils of your veins; the sound of your heart beating in your ears as everything else muffles and the spotlight goes onto him — like the sun beaming through the window to show you what you’d been looking for. 

Yeah sure, he’s a cult leader.

(A cult leader who made you feel noticed in a town with 15,000 ignorant, judgy people despite being with him in less than thirty minutes.)

“What’s she smiling at— oh,” with her laced fingers, Nancy places them beneath her chin and tilts her head sideways to take a glimpse of Eddie, who’s still looking at you. “That’s cute,”

“You really shouldn’t believe rumors,” You turn to her, nudging your juice box with her hand. “I mean, I’ve been here for three months. I barely know him and I think he’s just…being himself. It’s like this town hates people who are comfortable being themselves.”

The corners of Fred’s lips tug down. “Ouch,”

“What? It’s true,” 

“Y’know, we had a yard sale last year,” Nancy tells Fred. “Eddie was there lurking.”

“And?”

“Seemed like he didn't caused any trouble. Just roamed around, gave this kid a stuffed animal when he couldn't reach it. He seems nice, Fred.”

And you almost tell them that five years ago, Eddie Munson followed you backstage when he saw you crying; That he’d asked you if you were okay, that he said you’d do great and you did, and in between those hazy flashes of cut memories, you almost tell them that he wore a Bauhaus shirt too large for him, that his hair was buzzed and he made you laugh until you’d—quite literally—forgotten the reason why you cried in the first place.

—

“Hey there, Mandy,”

You yell, clutching the notebook closer to your chest and the pen tight in your hand that it might pop the ink out. Eddie’s hands raise in defense, eyes widening in shock as you both stop walking, the leaves crunching beneath your worn-out shoes and his white sneakers, the birds flying away from the disruption. 

“Jesus Christ,”

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” familiar, but the memory’s lost in your worry-filled mind. You laugh disbelievingly at him, closing your notebook and tucking the pen behind your ear. “What?”

“Nothing!” you scratch the dents on your notebook, shying away from Eddie’s intensive look. “Mandy? ‘S not my name.”

“I know. But it’s a cool nickname. And you know,” he tilts his head sideways. “The song.”

You smile when his head lulls back, chuckling shortly when you both begin walking again. Eddie has his hands behind his back, his hair wild from the harsh winds of August’s warm breeze. Which he fixes with quick pats to the hair covering half his forehead, his eyes never leaving you.

“Why are you walking home?” you see him bring his hands in front, toying with his rings, pushing them in and out of his fingers. 

When you look up at him, your right eye squints from the brightness of the sun until he steps over it. “I wanted to walk home. And, um, I don’t have a car,” you flush beneath his piercing gaze. “What about you?”

“Because I saw you walking home,” he grins. “You were writing while you were walking so I thought maybe I should come join you in case you accidentally trip,” 

The sun draws a halo above his head, painting over the devil horns drawn onto him. It gives him a sacrilegious glow, intriguing you to just push his hair behind his ears and ask him all the things that made him smile just so you could see him smile once more. Yet, you don’t; your hands stay around your notebook, your mouth parts but never says anything, and you merely try to say those words through your eyes.

Cult leader, my ass.

“What, so you…left your car in school so you could walk with me?”

He shrugs. “I guess so. It’s still there when I come back, anyway. After I walk you home,” Eddie swallows. “...after I walk you home as a friend.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Eddie’s lips purse. “So…” he makes a noise, like a random music note. “I didn’t see you in history today,”

History was (unfortunately) the only class you shared with Eddie. Where in the first three months, you’d kept on asking yourself where you’d seen him over and over again as you stared at the back of his head. (Wishing he’d turn around and ask for your name, if he’d seen you before, and notice you like he’d notice every random fuzz he’d find on his table.)

And he noticed you today. Even when you weren’t there, the thought of him thinking about you and wondering where you were sets a comfortable flame in your cold chest. 

“I was at the clinic,” you smile a little. “Some guy bumped into me earlier and I don’t know what he’s made of. It really hurt,”

His eyes darken into a gloom of concern, his eyebrows meeting like a broken bridge. “Are you alright? You okay now? Does it, uh, still hurt?”

“A bit,” you roll the injured shoulder. “Still kinda sore. ‘S like I played football, or something.”

Eddie’s teeth join behind his lips that remain separated, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout you can’t fathom the meaning behind. Then he’s biting it, his hands clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to make the hardest decision of his life before he’s pointing his thumb behind him. 

“Do you wanna go back to my van?” he asks quickly. “I’ve got something cold in there and I could help you. And I can drive you home, too,” his voice is eager and almost excited with a lace of hope. “But only if you want to,”

You’re unheistant when you say, “Yes,” take me with you. Aid me. Ask me how I am and I’d tell you. 

The walk back to school was quicker with his urgent feet that you had difficulty catching up with. You spot his car parked behind the school, befuddled with the amount of dents and the way his van leans sideways more than evenly. Eddie has a hand hovering behind you as he guides you, the other hurling the backdoors open that tricks you into thinking it’s gonna be thrown aside.

The back of his van was messy — with four empty beer cartons stashed aside, a Bauhaus poster that matched Eddie’s shirt with its sides ripped, white ridges seen in that black paper, a red cooler behind the cartons, and a blanket that you assumed used to be white but has been left unwashed for who knows how long. 

But despite the messy appearance, you sit on top of the blanket when he asks you to. And he sits beside you, 

a heavy hop that makes the van shake slightly and a creak underneath. He shoots you an embarrassed smile, a hand behind him to prop himself up as he twists his torso and pulls on the cooler until it slides near him.

When Eddie opens it, it’s nothing but almost melted ice and four bottles of Boston Lager with one of them being half-empty. You peer over the red box, watching as his hand dives through the cold mess before he hands you an unopened beer bottle.

Out of curiosity, you bring it up to your nose and take a whiff just because.

Eddie chortles. “What’s it smell like?”

You frown. “Like water.”

He stops you from putting the bottle right at your shoulder, looking for something behind him before he sighs scornly, reaching out behind him to pull out a black bandana decorated with large, intimidating skulls. “Here just—wrap it around so it won't wet your shirt too much,”

Eddie gently takes the bottle from you, half of his fingertips covering yours. Half a touch and it already makes you feel like someone had thrown a rope down the hole you’d been stuck in and pulled you out; in that slight formidable tactility does your skin tingle, a warmth that feels like you’re hovering your hands over the flawless dance of a flame. A caress that barely lasts ten seconds, but was a lifetime of gratifyingly dizzy touches. 

The coldness of the bottle doesn’t scathe you anymore now with his handkerchief wrapped around it. It seems like Eddie felt the same way, with how his neck reddens, and abruptly places his hands on his lap, watching you from the corner of his eye as you place the bottle on your shoulder. 

But the silence is comfortable, with the howl of the wind and the rustling of the trees. You dab the bottle on your shoulder, the bandana itself smelling of cigarettes and a boyish aroma you can’t comprehend, but you had a feeling it smelt just like him. The white skull turns gray, the cloth dampens and turns cold, and you turn to see Eddie with his nose wrinkled into a quick sniff before he looks around him and settles on your notebook.

“So what were you writing?” He gently takes the purple notebook into his hand, tracing its ridges and checking its black spine, flipping it around where he sees your name written on the upper left corner in small cursives.

“Um, just…things,” you pinch your nose with a vacant hand. “Just lyrics, I guess.”

“You? Lyricist?” Removing the hand from your nose, you reach over to flip the journal open, thumb skimming across the thick pages. “Just when I thought you were cool with the whole piano thing,” your face heats, smiling sheepishly at him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m great at this whole thing, though,” your thumb stops on a page you’d been writing on. Eddie diverts his attention on the half-filled page, head tilting down as he brings the notebook closer to his face.

You fear his judgment; not because you don’t trust him, but it leans more into what you’d gone through. That his criticism will be cruel, unkind and harsh like others had been, taking out all their negativity into the words you’d poured your mind onto, leaving without an apology or at least a clement admonition. 

There’s doubt that spreads across your mind. You watch as Eddie pokes his tongue out to graze his teeth, his thumbs drumming on your notebook, his own eyes flitting between your unaligned writing. But the smile that breaks across his charming face calms the dread down. Eddie looks at you, the crinkles on the corner of his eyes so endearing. 

“Lost in a purple hill, shake these zipper blues,” he reads out loud. “I like it. It’s very…savvy,”

“Savvy?”

“Savvy. Innovative. Creative,” you beam at him, your lips starting to ache from the bright smile you hold as Eddie’s head flips between your creative words and your contagious joy. “What? It’s amazing. Literally, all the words you can find in a dictionary that’s a synonym for creative. It’s—it’s that. W-what?”

His eyebrows join in a confused hill as the smile remains on his face, shaking his head at the shock that amalgamates with your glee. “Nothing,” you look away, feeling your entire body heating with the new sensation of appreciation. “I just thought it was kinda stupid. Like, maybe no one would understand it, y’know?”

Eddie’s thumb rubs his bottom lip. “Well, tell me what it means—hey, please?” he pouts playfully at you. “Tell me what it means, come on. I like it, I might as well know the meaning behind it, right?”

You shake your head in disbelief, placing the bottle on your shoulder to the space beside the two of you.  “Alright. Um, well, a hill right? You get up this hill and you feel disconnected from the world in…a good way. You- lose all toxicity and burden this place gives you. And I chose purple because, well, I like the color purple,” you laugh nervously. “And, zipper blues. It’s this depressed feeling you get from moving around too much. So you get lost up this hill, you get rid of that sorrow, and just disconnect all your problems. And, I don’t know if it makes any sense but—I’m rambling too much. I’m sorry—”

“No!” Eddie reaches out to place his hand on top of yours, quick and urgent to touch you again and the way his hand softens on you feels like he’d been substantially relieved to do something Eddie’s stopping himself from doing. Like water to a slowly dying flower, your heart blooms at the touch you’ve wanted to sense since earlier as he stops you from your ranting. “It’s okay. I- I get what you mean. And it’s…”

You feel him squeeze your hand gently. “It’s…?”

“I’m thinking of other cool words,”

You laugh bashfully, a laugh he copies. A laugh that reaches his eyes, went from deep into something high like a giggle until a small snort comes from him. You feel elated to make him laugh this way despite saying nothing. 

“It’s amazing, (y/n),” he doesn’t say Mandy, but it mantles your insides nonetheless. “You have other songs you’ve written?”

Toying with the neck of the beer, you nod. “I’ve got a couple of papers back in my place but, uh, I’m not exactly allowed to invite boys in my place yet.” he moues playfully. “But I could um, talk to you over it on the phone? Or give it to you tomorrow? I should just give it to you tomorrow, you don’t have to give me your number—”

Eddie squeezes your hand again. “Hey,” he chuckles at you. “Relax, Mandy. I’ll give you my number and we can talk, yeah?”

You feel like you’re waiting for an ice cream cone to be offered to you when Eddie plucks the pen behind your ear and writes his number down on the bottom of the page that he’s read. His writing is scrawny, unaligned like yours, capitalized when he leaves a note beneath the digits that you can’t read. He tells you not to read it yet after he offers to drive you home. 

The drive to your home was filled with small talk and music from the stack of cassettes on the back of his car. Ranging from Metallica to Judas Priest as said from the cases you gave him. And despite his attempt at his careful driving, the van sways against the uneven asphalt of the town streets. 

Eddie, with a hand on the steering wheel, has a hand hovering behind you as you twist your torso and lean towards the backseat to search for more cassette tapes. 

“What are you even looking for?” he asks, carefully turning left. You pick through the mountain of unarranged music, placing them next to each other when you see something you’re not looking for. “Careful. You might fall forward and I’ll just laugh at you.”

“I found it—turn right!” The wheels of his car screech at the sudden pivot, makes you clutch the grab handle and his arm, feet lifting off the clutch and onto the brakes where he presses lightly. “Fuck,”

“Sorry,” he pushes his hair out of his face, glancing at the cassette in your hand. “Oh, I didn’t know I have that,”

The black case of Reggatta De Blanc is clutched tightly in your hold. “I didn’t know you listened to The Police,” you flip it, scanning the back. “They’re my favorite band.”

“I didn’t know you listened to rock,” he’s still pressing lightly on the brakes to slow the van down, the smoke leaving the hood grows both your concerns. “I used to listen to them. Well, when I used to drive my Uncle to work when his car broke down for a while. Refused to listen to any of my tapes. Misfits? No. Iron Maiden? Still no. I mean, I get that he’s old, or something, but he has to try new things out!”

You open his player and withdraw Sisters of Mercy, prompting him to express his displeasure with a half-joking gasp and a short 'hey!' across the cut music. But you swiftly insert the tape to stop him. Eddie's fists clench over the peeling leather steering wheel, his gaze fixed on you.

“The Police, huh,” he grins at you. You swallow the upbeat tempo of Message in a Bottle, bopping your head to the introduction riff. Eddie’s head turns between the road and you. “Thought you’d be more Kate Bush, or something. Billy Joel. Madonna, maybe. Queen. Elton John. The Cure…”

With a twisted smile, you run your nails through the polyester filament yarn of your seatbelt. “I do. I don’t have a specific genre, Munson,” you turn to him. “I can like anything. Hell, I like W.A.S.P. And Joan Jett”

He gasps, turning right. “& The Blackhearts?”

“Fuck yeah,”

Eddie’s tongue clicks with the roof of his mouth, shaking his head. “What a potty mouth, Mandy.” his nose wrinkles when he laughs. Angelic, you think. A laugh a cult leader wouldn’t have; something Eddie would have. 

“Well, people usually don’t believe me,” you laugh timidly. “‘S like people need to like just one genre and make it their whole personality. Like, what if I like metal and pop at the same time?” his eyebrows raise a bit. “Sorry. N-no offense. It’s just…annoying, at times.”

You remember being twelve, recently having left Hawkins with a deep frown on your face. But you had a girl invited to your room in search of a new friend. With a borrowed boombox, you showed her Blue Öyster Cult after going through countless tapes of pop artists. And when she found out that the band had a different type of music, way different than the ones you’d just listened to, she’d told you: listening to different types of music makes you unbalanced. You need to stick to the one that makes you you. Or else people wouldn’t know who you are.

Wise words for a pretentious girl, you thought back then. Nevertheless, you believed her. 

For five years. 

But when you returned to Hawkins, you need reinvention. Because girls were only ever interesting when they’d reinvent themselves every once in a while to keep people hooked on. And you were tired of being unseen, invalidated; so you went back to your older self. Someone who played the piano but enjoys metal as much as Eddie Munson did, from what you’ve seen. You want to show him that side of you, in hopes for affirmation.

“None taken,” he breathes. “But, you’re right. No need to apologize.” your stomach buzzes with his accordance. “Metal’s just…me, though,” unlike earlier, Eddie turns the hazard before he turns. “So, I hope you don’t mind a man with a shag who’s a high school repeat’s driving you home, sweets,”

Sweets. Your whole body burns in the best way, biting back a smile. “No. I don’t mind. I like that.”

“I like that for you, though,” he gesticulates to you. “Being unashamedly yourself. Without aaany judgment whatsoever. And, uh, that’s amazing,” Eddie, although with his words genuine, smiles weakly and sweetly at you; harbors something that he wants to say but stops himself from doing so. “I should be like you more often.”

“I think you’re already being yourself,” your eyes trace the scratches on the windows, the slight blur on the corner of his windscreen; what once was a far distance of a motion blur of modern homes turns slower when Eddie’s foot lifts slowly from the accelerator. “I should be like you.”

“Trust me. You-...” when he looks at you, he visibly softens at your countenance. His adam's apple bobs in what seems to be rich poignance with the way his pupils slightly shrink when he flits his eyes away from you, only to dilate and almost take over his brown irises when they look back at you a mere second later. Eddie chuckles dryly, can't help but smile earnestly at you. “I like you as yourself, (y/n),”

Your hand compels you to reach for his. Like magnets forced to meet. But the console which separates you both hinders you from doing so. But maybe it was your fear; your lack of courage. A film reel in your mind that slides through its mid-tone dull colors of a possible incident — he’ll hold your hand tighter with the gentle caress of his calloused thumb that alleviates the rigorous pounding of your heart and smiles brighter than the ultraviolet sun. 

Or his face would twist in disgust and shove your hand back on your lap, lips curled into revulsion and he’d ask you what was wrong with you, reject any excuse that would come out of your mouth like they always did before he’d drop you home and ignore you like you didn’t exist.

Keep it together.

“Thanks,” you mumble, the pads of your thumbs come across the linear scars on your fingers. You see Eddie balk in his seat, lips pursed to make small incomprehensible sounds while he bobs his head to Message in a Bottle. Your house emerges, curtains drawn and run down car missing. Disappointedly, you press on the red button of the seat belt buckle. “Right here, Eddie.”

The van halts to a stop, passenger door right in front of the pathway to your small home. The radio lowers, the seat belt snapping back in place tickles your arm, and dismay wooshes with his loud ac. 

But Eddie leaves unexpectedly before you do, the unlocking sound of his car door disappears quicker than the door slamming shut. You watch as he crosses over with squinted eyes, until he reaches to open your door, bowing lightly with an arm stretched towards your house; a smile that reaches up his eyes and a dimple that comes with.

“M’lady,” he nods his head at you. You can’t help but laugh, picking the bag up from between your legs and slinging it over your shoulder, the heat adding an unfortunate ache on your eyes that shoots up to your head and almost burns any skin that’s exposed. Eddie notices. “‘S hot, isn’t it?”

“Unusually hot,” you shake your head. Eddie closes the door, walking on the unmowed grass on your small lawn until you both end up beneath the porch, in the shade that soothes you.

His eyes desecrate the components of your door, tracing the doorbell button, lips making small psh sh sounds before Eddie finally looks down at you. “Can I have your number?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “But I already have yours.”

“So I can call you anytime, Mandy,” he laughs heartily. “I can’t exactly save phone numbers, can I?”

You flush in embarrassment. “Right. Sorry,” you take the pen from behind your ear, reaching out. “Can I have your arm, please?”

Eddie smiles. “Lovely manners.”

He shows you his arm, a small, almost unnoticeable butterfly tattooed on his wrist where you write your number above it. “Nice tat,” you smile up at him, your own blue ink that’s botched to almost unusable decorates his pale skin.

“Yeah, I don’t really know how I got that,” his eye shuts, nose wrinkling, watches your eleven digits appear on his wrist along the veins. “Nice,” he sings. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to get going,” Eddie tugs on his bracelet, his feet lifting off the porch. “See you ‘round, Mandy. Shake those zipper blues beneath the burning solari for me, won’t you?”

You bid him goodbye with a sad wave, but you cover it with a smile.

Shake those zipper blues beneath the burning solari. Huh.

Morphine city slippin' dues

Down to see

That we don't even care

As restless as we are

It was a battle between who was gonna call first.

That day when Eddie drove back to the trailer, quietly as Wayne took a nap on the fold-up bed in the living room, he went inside his bedroom and locked the door. Barely was it night. Barely. Yet there he was, sitting on his bed clad in nothing but a random shirt and boxers as he waited for your call.

Nothing.

So he sat and played and thought and dreamed. 

Shake those zipper blues beneath the burning solari? What the fuck does that even mean?

The first ring on his phone, it hadn’t come from you. Mike Wheeler asked if he’d used any kind of shampoo on his hair, and what brand it had been. Eddie answered that it was three-in-one, no specific brand. Just anything he could afford. The second had come from Dustin, who’d asked about something DnD related that Eddie had already forgotten. 

And then the third was from Reefer Rick, who was put on probation and asked how he was and honestly, the phone call lasted for two hours. A conversation that barely included any drug talk whatsoever and simply what had happened in their lives.

So obviously, Eddie couldn’t help but mention you. Minus your name for safety reasons.

“Shit, dude. She’s… she’s nice. She’s smart and she writes songs like I do and she plays the piano. And I actually met her before! ‘S just that I don’t exactly-... remember it, y’know?”

“Don’t tell me you’re fallin’ in love, kid.”

“I’m not!”

“You know about love and how dangerous it is, don’t you?”

He did. 

Like a dangerous game of Dungeons and Dragons.

Yet there he was, the sun gone and the skies Stygian, painted with scattered specks of the burning stars and the crescent moon. Eddie’s patience had slowly been wilting, his knee bounced on the floor and his ass was sore from sitting too long on his lumpy mattress. A notebook in hand with his own clusterfuck of rhyming words with deep elucidations in hopes you’d be talking about songwriting. 

And when the phone rang, he stood up faster than the speed of light and he took the handset off the wall and pressed it up to his tingling ears. 

“Hello?”

A huff of a laugh. “Hey, Eds.”

Eds. Eds Eds Eds Eds. 

His heart palpitated; a ruthless attack of the Cupid’s red piercing arrow shot through his heart. Eddie Munson rested his hand against the wall and the other tight on the phone receiver as his knees liquified from your giggle. 

“Hey there, Mandy.”

“I took your lyric, by the way,” he could only imagine what you looked like that night—pajamas, sleep shorts, a crop top, or a random band shirt he thinks you’d totally have, you’d still be pretty nonetheless. “Shake those zipper blues beneath the burning solari. It’s very impressive. Kinda making me not want to give you credit here,”

Eddie shook his head in playful disbelief and turned over to rest his back on the wall with a silly smile and a belly full of butterflies. “I’d very much appreciate the credit. At least then the world would know who I was.”

A playful sound of consideration kisses his eardrums. “Maybe. Yeah, sure. I’ll give you credit.”

Since then, phone calls had been filled with exchanged conceptualizations and words written with a botched ballpen onto crumpled pieces of papers; Eddie would see you in school, too. Passing each other shy smiles, listening to music in his van as he offers to drive you home, his hand discreetly turning back to you to pass notes during History. He no longer found the random fuzz on his table interesting and thought that the girl who answered his notes that ended each message with a smiley face was way more interesting than anything else in the world.

Maybe DnD and metal, too. But you came in first.

And every night, after a campaign or band practice, after his uncle would wish him farewell before heading off to work, the usual jejune midnights had turned into cavorting twilight nights. Before he knows it, he’s already brushing his teeth at six pm, like you’d smell his breath through the phone, and bounces his knee in anticipation in front of the phone. 

One night, when Wayne stayed home to get some proper rest, he'd noticed how Eddie had barely left the room to watch the tv with him, or how he hasn't played a guitar in weeks, or suddenly rush out a farewell to meet his friends.

He took a peek in the crack of his bedroom door, saw how his nephew had a lovesick smile as he laid on the floor with the phone on his ear babbling about things that has happened on his day or something about his past.

"You've been hogging up the phone, Eddie. I've got someone to call too, you know?"

Poor Eddie yelped, almost dropping the phone to the ground. Wayne chuckles, walking over to him which made Eddie clutch the phone to his chest. Wayne claps his shoulder.

"Yeah like who? That recently divorced mom beside Kapinsky's trailer?"

He jested to his uncle, who barks out a laugh. "Probably. I'm not the only one trying to woo girls here, son,"

"I- I'm not trying to woo him, man! I'm just-... trying to be her friend."

Wayne huffs with a smile and a light shake of his head.

It went on for weeks; countless calls that he didn't realize months had passed. Every day, every night, you’d become his friend; conversations started turning into somewhat remedial talks other than songwriting, telling each other the stories in your lives that none had experienced, talking shit of the judgementals and the great pretenders, and gave each other keys to your hearts for safekeeping.  

“What ever happened to Benny’s Burgers?”

“Heard some Russian kid got him killed, or something. Jason’s using it for his orgies now. Like ritualistic sacrifices are way more important than teenagers having sex all together. The children of god hath given into their temptations! Those gents might not but repent their sins for foul fornication!” 

“Eddie, I don’t care if you sell drugs. Half the kids in my old school in Queens sold them. Would almost kill each other for ‘stealing’ their clients. Hell, even half of the NYPD sold drugs.”

“In all honesty, it’s weird how you’re so normal about this.”

“My mom died when I was a baby. The orphanage had different answers on how I ended up there, though. My dad died, he was in jail, he dumped me there. But it doesn’t matter — I’ve got a new family now, anyway.”

“My old man’s in prison. Haven’t talked to him in years. My mom died too, so at least we have that in common, eh?”

“Sometimes I wish people cared. Like-... sometimes I wish they’d see me; stop treating me like a ghost and ask ‘hey, what songs can you play on the piano?’ and all that shit. ‘Hey, are you okay? What’d you feel about getting left at an orphanage? Sorry, I hit you on the shoulder.’ And all that stuff.”

“‘M kinda tired of being seen as a freak. I know everybody has their own thing. But sometimes I… wish I liked the same thing everybody else did. But that’s the thing about society and their codependency on approval — you like something that people think is far from normal, or something that people say isn’t- trendy, you’re a freak. I mean, sorry I like playing a fantasy game than Monopoly. Or- that I like Eddie Van Halen than Olivia Newton-John.”

“Hey, you love Olivia Newton-John!”

Laying in his bed of lumps and stains, Eddie imagined he’s in a field. The tall grass stroking his inked skin, the clouds that hover over him, all his devotion laid upon the clouds that mutate into your silhouette, which beguiles him more. And even when his visual morphs the sky gray and lets its sickening tears drip down onto him, he stares up at this cloud indentation of you that looks back at him. Until it’s blown away and he finally sees your spellbinding beauty. 

“Hey,” your voice startled him. “Still there, or you’re asleep?”

“No. This is Eddie’s soul speaking. He’s very asleep,” his jest was followed by an obnoxious snore that made you laugh brightly. He smiles. “Yeah, no. I’m still here. Sorry,”

“It’s okay,” you softly said. “Hey, um, my neck’s aching.”

He frowned. “Oh. Do you wanna continue this tomorrow?” Eddie twirls the cord around his finger, trapping the phone between his neck and ear.

“No,” you sighed. “Keep talking, please?”

“Okay,” Eddie cleared his throat. “Band practice went well. We, uh, learned a new song. Something that’s not metal. Gareth was kind of a bitch about it but hey, there’s no harm in trying something new.”

“Really?” he nodded, remembering you were not there before he said ‘yes’. “What song is it?”

Eddie turned to his side, facing his Blue Öyster Cult poster. “It’s a surprise, Mandy,” his scoff etched a smile on his frivolous face. “You’ll hear it when you come to Hideout.”

“Shame,” he thought you’d been pouting. Playfully, with your pink lip jutted out. “What should I wear when I watch, though?”

“Anything you want,” it made him panic a little; he didn’t have an outfit for the show. Eddie sat up, his foot knocking over an empty bottle that fell down on his floor that thankfully did not break but was loud enough to disrupt you.

“What was that?” you had asked. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he clutched his ankle, face crumbling in pain. “Yeah, babe, I’m alright,”

Shit.

He sensed it then. When your breathing went silent, when his heart stopped beating for a millisecond, the way your mind registered what he said the same time he did. Eddie’s body had loosened in panic.

“Okay,” you finally said, quiet and gentle. “Um, careful.”

“Thanks,” he almost said it again, getting himself distracted. “Thanks, (y/n),”

A pregnant pause. Eddie was massaging his ankle with a look that berated him for his idiotic freudian slip. He scolded himself by bumping the sore spot against the foot of his bed, hard enough that another loud thump was heard and tears brimmed the edge of his eyes.

“Okay, seriously, what is going on in there?” you chuckled incredulously. 

“Nothing!”

“You know what? You should come here before you accidentally trip on a knife.”

Eddie’s head dipped. “I thought you weren’t allowed to invite boys in your home?”

“I can rebel, you know,” he felt an eye roll. “Besides, my parents aren’t home and- I’m bored. And my neck hurts and everything’s better when you’re here.”

He deceived himself into thinking you meant nothing in the last part. Eddie felt the warmth rise to his cheeks then, something he’d grown familiar to seeing as it only happens when he’s with you. 

“Sure,” he picked up a random pair of shoes beneath his bed and opened his drawer to pull out the finest pair of jeans he owned. “Be there in a couple of minutes.”

That night, he parked his van a few houses from yours, and he immediately spotted the purple curtain of your windows. The light dimmed with the yellow warmth of your lamp, your silhouette moving across with something rectangular in your hand that he can only assume was your notebook. He felt slightly eccentric.

Eddie, ever the man who loves to put on a good show, decided to climb up the side of your home using the uneven ridges of the brick wall and your pipes. His palms had lightly scratched against the rough surface of the bricks, where he used all his strength to lift himself up until his head peeks through your window.

When his forearms rested on the stool of your window, he propped himself on one arm and used his left hand to knock rhythmically on the glass. Eddie saw your silhouette stop pacing, your shadow growing as you near your window and pulled the curtains back.

He’d smiled, bigger when he saw your shocked, wide-eyed gaze. Eddie knows you’re berating him when he hears your muffled rambling. You unlatched the window and pulled it up, your hands clutching his bare elbows.

“You idiot!” you hissed. “I told you my parents are gone. And you come up through the window? Are you insane? You could break your back or stab yourself with the bushes!”

Eddie fell face down, his cheek meeting your carpeted floor. He pressed his palms on the ground, pulling his entire body in until he flopped on your floor. And when he finally fixed himself and rids of the leaves and dirt that stuck to him, he stood up. And you slap his arm.

He gawped at you. “Ow!” he pouts, massaging his arm. “You wound me.”

“Relax,” Eddie took his shoes off. “It was just a slap, you drama queen.”

Eddie’s eyes wandered across your body. You were wearing a band shirt: Dead or Alive. He didn’t know who they were. But he didn’t care because then he’s got his eyes on your exposed legs, black sleep shorts that barely come across half your thighs and it made him swallow thickly, his blood flowing everywhere and god forbid had he popped a boner right in the middle of your room, he would have jumped out your window and broke his neck instead.

“Y-you know me,” his voice cracked the slightest. “Always a queen. Which is why I love the Queen. Not the Queen of England. The band, I mean. Well, I listen to them occasionally.”

You sat on your bed, kicking his shin. “I know, dummy.”

That had been a couple of nights ago.

Now he’s sitting bored, fourth row in the second lane, his chin on his palm, right hand drawing a small bat on the corner of his notebook. Along with some other words until he quietly rips the page off, folds it, and takes it in his hand before he moves it behind him.

Eddie feels the paper slip off his fingers. He thinks of your smile, whether it be a toothy grin, a closed lip or the one that made your teeth shine prettily. His body shivers from head to toe, cheeks tingling while his knee bounces in anticipation.

A light graze on his bare elbow startles him, the heel of his foot knocking against the metal leg of his seat. He takes the paper from the corner of his table, silently unfolding it.

I think that’s a bad idea.

Offended, he writes. I just said hi >:(

He gets a quick reply after he gives it to you. I can smell you thinking. I’m like a vampire. And I’m already telling you that filling someone’s locker with shaving cream is boring and a bad idea.

You snicker when he takes a quick glance at you with a silent gasp. Then what do you suggest we do?

Fill it with shaving cream and stick someone’s hair in it. It’s grosser.

It’s followed by a brief drawing of two stick people, one with a small triangular skirt and one with a guitar in it’s hand, in front of a crooked rectangle which he assumes is the locker, the door opened and curved drawings oozing out. And some small, clustered lines that represent the hair you’d told him about.

Eddie smiles brightly, folding it and shoving it in his pocket before he shoots you a silly smile. 

The bell rings, obnoxious and almost deafening. Eddie stands from his seat, watching you meticulously gather your stuff together, hands gently pushing your items inside your bag. He sits on his table, waiting.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Mandy,” He tucks his book on his torso, watching you sling your bag over your shoulder and narrow your eyes at him. “It’s a great idea,”

“I’m not one for bullying, but I think, even though I contributed to your prank knavery, it’s pretty tame and shit,” 

Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you, slapping the top of the door as he passes through. “Oh yeah? Give me something better, do tell.”

“I say fill the locker with water, but then it’ll just slip out,” he towers over you. Sometimes he likes to take advantage of the fact that people would move out of his way merely because they didn’t want to be touched or grazed by him like some disease; he can move faster. “Or we can get your little shrimps to make some machine type of thing that could explode in their locker.”

“Who? Dustin?” Eddie bumps his shoulder with yours. “I mean, yeah could be. And we can just blame it on him,”

“Great idea,” your face wrinkles in confusion. “Wait, who’s locker are you destroying, anyways?”

“Gareth’s,”

Your nose wrinkles. “What did Gareth ever do to you?”

“Breathing,” he sighs. “Anyway, are you doing something later?”

Even in a clustered hallway, Eddie finds it in himself to get the wind knocked out of him when you look up with pensive eyes. Your mouth parts, the ends of your front teeth peeking just a bit from beneath your top lip. You blink and your eyebrows widen.

“Nothing. Homework, maybe. Or just writing again,” his heart pangs at the sad sigh you let out. “Wanna come over?”

He brightens.

-

Eddie lays on your thick mattress, hands clasped together on top of the notebook that lays open on his chest. Eddie scans every saxe glory of your blue walls, smelling the citrus fragrance of your new white sheets. It’s soft, maybe softer than the field up weathertop, and comforting. You sit on the edge of the bed, W.A.S.P. playing out loud but not loud enough for a complaint. 

He turns his head to you, sees how your back is hunched with your notebook on your lap and your fingers drumming on the sides with your pen wedged in between your lips. Eddie leans up, peering over your shoulder.

I put my heart on a piece of paper and you throw it away(?) my heart’s on a string around my neck and

Half the page is scribbled words and annotations with doodles of flowers on the corners. The annoyance radiates off the inelegance of your structure, the bite marks that deepen on the plastic cap of your black pen, and your eyebrows that meet in the middle. Eddie wants to kiss your worry lines away, taking your face in his hands and wonder how, despite the agitated expression, could someone still look so pretty?

Taking his pen from beneath the notebook, he takes the cap off with his teeth. Eddie props himself up on one hand, crosses his arm over yours and presses the black tip on your lined page.

Hi. Notice me pls :(

You laugh cordially, snapping your head to him with your chin on your shoulder and his chin on your bicep, his bottom lip jutting out from the lack of attention. 

“What’s up, Mands, huh?” his chin nudges your arm. You soften. “Writer’s block?”

“Writer’s block are for authors,” you say in a small voice.

“Writers. Songwriters. Semantics,” Eddie purses his lips. “Do you wanna turn the radio off? It’s what usually ruins the whole thinking thing, sometimes.”

“No,” you pout. “Maybe I just need a break. I don’t even know why I’m so upset about this. ‘S so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie readjusts himself, his upper body being propped up by his arm with his legs spread on your mattress, knocking your arm with his temple. “Tell me why you’re upset. Come on.” 

You ruminate, staring deep into his eyes. “God, I don’t know, Eddie. It’s like my mind’s all hazy these days. It won’t work. Everytime I try to finish this stupid song, I- my mind just stops. It’s like I’ve forgotten the English dictionary, or something. I feel so illiterate. A freakin- a fucking ten year old could make a christmas jingle faster than I can finish this stupid stanza.” you slam your pen in the middle, closing your eyes in a deep sigh. “It’s tiring— I’m sorry. I talk too much.”

Eddie wants to draw this out. Close the space that’s almost not even there and take you into his arms as he heeds the words you avow with the silk petal of your voice that burrs when you tiptoe the edge of a breakdown. But you’re already looking away from him with a visible wobble of your bottom lip.

“Hey, hey,” he finally sits, ignoring the ache on his arm when he limits himself by touching your shoulder rather than grasping your chin; there’s still the lingering hesitation of crossing boundaries when it comes to physical contact, and he doesn’t want to drive you away. “You don’t talk too much. I love listening to you talk,”

A shimmer in your eyes from the tears that coat your irises. You blink rapidly and smile weakly. “Thanks. That’s- that’s nice.”

“You know what,” he plops to his stomach, reaching over to the ground where his open bag laid and took out two cans of Budweiser, warm with dents on the silver tin. “Let’s drink— just one! Have you ever tried?”

“I told you I used to live in New York. The only things I haven’t tried are coke and marijuana,” you take the can from him. “My dad gave me beer when I was fifteen. Not exactly great parenting but, we were alone and he didn’t know what to feed me.”

He opens the can and drinks the bitter alcohol with ease, letting it leave a burning sensation on his tongue as he watches you do the same. Eddie chortles when your face rumples in distaste, a frown replacing your woeful pout. 

“You alright there, Mands?” He raises a brow. “Sure your daddy didn’t give you apple juice?”

“Jesus christ,” you clear your throat. “I’m starting to think he did.” Eddie gently takes the can from you when you give it to him, gently placing it on your bedside table. “You know, Fred Benson has a party a couple blocks from here.”

Eddie takes another athirst sip. “Who?”

“Fred. The guy with glasses who’s with Nancy? I sat with him during lunch?”

“Oh right!” He sets his beer beside yours. “He’s nice. He put Hellfire Club in the student yearbook.”

“We should loosen up a bit,” you stand up, stretching your limbs and wince at the ache on your back. Your Beatles shirt, cut up to a midriff, exposes your stomach, a small scar just on the side of your hip and it makes Eddie flustered. He looks down at his hands. “We should go to the party.”

Eddie hops off your bed with the twist of his legs. “You can’t just leave. What about your parents?”

“I can rebel,” you repeat playfully. “And since when do you care about all that stuff, guy-who-got-arrested-once-when-he-sold-weed-to-an-undercover-cop?"

“I care when it comes to you,” he says softly, and he thinks you must have been pretending not to hear what he said. “Gonna call them or leave a note?”

“Gonna tell them I’ll sleep at Nancy’s,” you pull your drawer open and take a yellow sticky note out, scribbling down. Eddie takes his shoes from beside your bedroom door, frowning at the smudged dirt on the heel of his right shoe before he slips them on. “Can you wait outside? I’m gonna change.”

-

You looked breathtaking.

Embellished in a simple dress that stopped just above your knees, a pair of high-cut canvas sneakers that needed a bit of washing; a jubilant vogue that beguiles him, lifting him off his jittery fee. Your adroit hands accoutred in rings with lilliputian gems, warped around your dexterous fingers in delicate silver wires. And your hair, free from all its restraint, flowing down your shoulders. 

Driving to Fred’s house, you looked like a bright star found in the darkness of Eddie’s van. Sat on his seat, listening to all his metal mixtapes and headbanging to the songs you found endearing. His heart quivers whenever you awe at mixtapes you find in the back of his car. 

You were beautiful.

Covet reigns his cynical heart; he yearns to touch you. Wrapping his arm around your waist, holding your hand, or taking your face into his palms and telling you all the things that’ll make you smile. He wants to fortify you from all the savage things that ought to hurt you; Eddie yearns to proclaim his devotion into a dulcet whisper until he feels the rapidness of your heartbeat that thumps against his. 

But confusion regnants. He doesn’t know why he feels this way for a friend who simply knocked the wind out of him by wearing a simple dress. Then again, he thinks if it were any other person, they’d feel the same way. It’s you. You and your kind, shy, delicate heart that he wants to keep.

You, that he’s also lost.

It has been an hour since you guys have arrived. Maybe more than an hour. Eddie doesn’t know, but when he glances at his watch, it’d already been eleven in the evening. He wasn’t fond of parties but when it came to you and anything related to your happiness, he’d tolerate it. And for the first time in his life, in a house full of alcohol, he’s still sober. For your sake.

You told him you’d go to the bathroom, and he waited at some couch, stuck between two very drunk people who made out and completely forgot that they’re sitting right next to Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. But, in all honesty, it felt nice not having someone run away as soon as they saw him. 

But when twenty minutes pass, where he debates on fetching you in case something happened, or thought maybe you were taking a shit, he ultimately decides to search for you. 

Foreigner guides him between the sweaty limbs of drunk teens and students who’ve already graduated high school but remained in Hawkins (aka Steve Harrington. He saw a glimpse of his voluptuous hair towering over the crowd). 

“I wanna know where (y/n) is,” he sings subconsciously. “I want you to show me,”

And then, he sees you. In a situation that proves his nagging thoughts right.

Standing against the wall is a drunk you. And lo and behold, Steve Harrington peers over you with a flushed face that spreads up to his neck, shirt unbuttoned like he’s seducing you with the jungle on his chest. Eddie feels the bottom of his stomach twist uncomfortably, a twinge of jealousy floating within the acids inside. 

He pushes the people away, as gently as he could, making his way toward you. 

“I know— Eddie!” you gasp, pushing away from the wall. You open your arms and fall against him, wrapping your limbs around his torso tightly so that it makes him just as shocked as Steve was. “Where have you been?”

“I was waiting,” a hand massages your forearm, the other resting cautiously on your back. “You said that I stay there.”

“Have you met Steve?” Eddie smiles tightly at him. He tries to hide his disappointment when you uncurl an arm from him. 

“Yeah, I met him,” he says softly. “Dustin kept on talking about him.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment. “Uh- yeah. Nice seeing you again, man.” he nods his head at him. “Haven’t seen you since I left highschool,”

“Kinda surprised you’re still here,”

He narrows his eyes at Eddie. “I could say the same,” Steve runs his hand through his hair, shifting all his weight on his left leg. “Didn’t you repeat high school?”

You gasp beneath Eddie, turning your head at him. “You repeated high school?”

“Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Yeah but I forgot,” you rub your nose with the side of your finger. “I’m sorry. That must have sucked.”

It used to. Until you came back. 

Eddie’s mouth parts, but all that could come out was. “Wanna go back home?”

“I haven’t peed yet,”

“You’ve been talking to Steve for twenty minutes?” he exclaims his disdain over this fact, tightening his arm around you without even realizing it. “Alright, I’m taking you up to the bathroom,”

“Hey hey hey,” Steve reaches out to grasp Eddie’s elbow, clumsily but tight as he can see the drunken gloss in his eyes. “Where’d you think you’re going?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?”

“Oh I heard it loud and clear,” he scoffs. “You’re not taking a drunk girl to the toilet, Munson.”

Eddie turns, hiding you behind him and lets you pick on the loose thread of his vest. “And what do you expect me to do? Let her piss herself in here?” he wonders wherever Steve found the nerve to act all protective over you. “Sending her up there alone is more dangerous, Harrington.”

“And you think I’ll let you take her up there?”

“Hey, excuse me,” with your hands around Eddie’s torso, you spin, your cheek right on the DIO print of his vest. “If you’re thinking that Eddie would take advantage of me, h’wont. You don’t know him. He- he won’t do what you’re thinking,” you narrow your eyes at him. “You know, if you people would just take the time to get to know him, you’d know that he’s not a freak. Or that he’d sacrifice me to the devil, or some shit. He’s a really nice person and you’re just—judgemental morons. And I really need to fucking pee.”

Your sweet mien is stripped off. An austere look makes Steve stumble back, face flushed in embarrassment than inebriation. He sputters out an apology, his eyes sobering in genuity. But surprisingly, he apologizes to Eddie. “I’m just drunk. I know it’s not an excuse but… she’s my friend.”

Still, with your words that left his heart unveiling and pounding like a fast drum bass, Eddie nods his head at him in slight forgiveness. “I get it, man. No hard feelings.”

(But he still is jealous that Henderson liked him more.)

Eddie takes you into his arms, smiles reassuringly at you as he pushes your hair out of your face, and leads you up to the nearest bathroom.

Lamented and assured

To the lights and towns below

Faster than the speed of sound

Faster than we thought we'd go

Beneath the sound of hope

Eddie Munson had only been in love once.

But maybe he’s wrong.

You sit patiently in the passenger seat, swaying to a Barry Manilow mixtape you found in Fred’s house that Eddie didn’t stop you from taking. He watches you from inside the convenience store, the beep of the scanner faint as well as the jingle of coins.

He bids a quiet goodbye to the cashier and pockets his change, holding two water bottles in his hand, sauntering to his vibrating van, and hopping in with ease.

Your eyes snap open, wide in its demiurgic inebriation. Eddie shuts the car door, placing his bottle on the cup holder in front of the gear shift so he could open yours to save you the struggle before he hands it to you. “Sober up, princess,”

Although half-drunk, you manage to swallow his sobriquet and flush. Princess. Babe. Mandy. What’s next? Love of my life?

God, I kinda hope so.

Eddie’s got his eyes on you, searching for any signs of struggle as you open the bottle with a small grunt before you bring the plastic up to your lips, swallowing heavily. Your eyes flutter shut, eyelashes caressing the gentle skin of your cheeks as you moan.

“Shit,” you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “What’s in the water?”

“Special K,” he jokes, opening his own. “You sober yet?”

“I can physically feel it-” you gesture your hands to yourself, waving it in a downward motion as you swallow the thick saliva on the edge of your tongue. “-disappear. I can feel it go down to my bladder.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he faces the steering wheel and twists the key in the ignition. “Just make sure you don’t have to pee yet. I’m gonna take you somewhere,”

You screw the cap back on, tugging on the ends of your dress as solemn curiosity makes you look up at him through your eyelashes. “Ooh. Where ya takin’ me, Eds?”

“It’s a surprise,” he pulls out of the parking lot, watching carefully from the rearview mirror with his eyes squinted. “I take Dustin up there every morning to talk to his girlfriend. But there’s a special spot I’m taking you.”

“Dustin has a girlfriend?” you gasp. “I always thought he made that up,”

“Oh, but she’s very real,” 

Tucking the bottle beneath your chin, you wriggle your brows at him with a skittish look. It enamors him, and it can’t stop him from turning his head at you and smiling softly. He wishes this would last — a fortuitous moment of abundant reposefulness, in his shitty van with your presence gracing the darkness of his world. 

Your face reappears in the darkness whenever a streetlight passes by. And every spark, you grow even more beautiful despite the intoxication that drops a barbell onto your eyelids. Eddie watches the buildings disappear, replaced by old trees, huddled together beside the road that swishes and collides with the passing breeze. 

With the doo-wop music pleasing to your ears, you hum beneath your breath, hand reaching out to roll the windows down and peak your head out. The wind strokes your skin headily, but the attempt to sober you is in vain. At least, with the alcohol that’s left in your system; you're clearheaded enough to register the lyrics from the radio and Eddie’s words of carefulness. 

Unable to detach his eyes from the lengthy road, Eddie filches every moment he’d glance at you out of worry you’d get your head decapitated off a pole or anything that passes by. 

But the sight of you with your back arched against the open window, hands in the air and your hair across your tipsy face was enough to relieve his worry. Were his eyes cameras, he’d taken every picture at every blink he took and kept in his mind. Just in case he’d never see such an unfathomable sight again.

“Hey, Mandy,” he yells slightly. “Having fun there, girl?”

“Totally,” you sigh, teeth gleaming. “Are we there yet, Munson? The inside of my mouth’s getting all dry here.”

“Get back inside, then,” he glouts playfully. “We’re almost there, babe.”

He’s getting really fucking comfortable with those petnames, now. 

You slither yourself back inside, slumping on his chair, your dress ridden up to your thighs. Eddie blushes from his face to his chest, snapping his eyes back on the road as you squirm on your seat, tugging on the ends until you’ve settled properly and rose the window up halfway. 

He tugs on the collar of his Paranoid shirt, a stark contrast to his exposed, opalescent skin. “You had fun poking your head out the window?” he cocks a brow. “Or do you still wanna go chase the cars that pass by thinkin’ they’re treats?”

“Dick,” you kick his shin, dirt smudging on his blue jeans. 

Eddie stops beside a broken fence, the vibration of his van coming to a halt when he twists the keys from the ignition and pulls it off. You blindly open the car door much to his dismay, and hop off with bleary feet. He does the same, shuts the door the same time you did and watches you cross over the van until you stand in front of him.

But you look at the hills, high and dark; its luscious green grass unseen by the darkness. He watches your jaw relax and your blinks decelerate. 

“We’re gonna walk up there?” you say smally, fiddling with your rings. 

“You don’t wanna?” his left eye narrows, a small pout coming up to draw itself on his face. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna. I can try to drive my car up the hill. Unless you also don’t wanna climb up the hill then I can just take you wherever you wanna go.”

You shake your head, tugging on his leather bracelet, hooking your finger around the ornament and crossing the shattered fence. “I can do it. I’m—I’m sober enough. I think I just have to remove my shoes. Hold on,”

He crosses the fence first, planting his feet on the ground as you use him as leverage. You balance yourself on one foot, pulling on the laces of your shoes and pulling it until he sees your socks—blue covered in black bats. Eddie takes your shoe as you do the same to the other, until he’s got your high-cuts in one hand, and the other being pulled by you.

Everything was untroubled. Laughs shared when he trips and scrapes his bare knee on the uncut grass; your socks darkened by the damp soil, his white Reeboks the same. And Eddie matches your heavy huffs, the remaining energy on his body on his legs that continue to lift him up the hill.

When you reach the top, you half-yell in relief, bending with your hands on your knees. Eddie sets your shoes down, letting himself fall on his ass. Once you’ve obtained your spent breath, you plop down beside him. 

“Holy shit,” you press your hands on the earth below, shifting to rest on your knees. “Eds, we can see Hawkins from here,”

You see the lights that brighten up the town. The miniscule homes of the village from across,  the burnt Starcourt mall, the sirens that lead its way to the Hospital and the variegated radiance from the arcade. You gawp silently.

“Exactly why I took you up here,” he tugs down on your dress when the wind blows it up, keeping his eyes at your face. “And if you look very closely, or if you have the eyes of an owl, you can see the trailer park.”

He laughs amusingly when you squint your eyes. Eddie knows if he can’t see it, so can’t you. But you try, nonetheless. 

“I don’t see it,” you lament, sitting back down beside him. Eddie tries to ignore the weight you rest on his arm; the pinky that grazes his behind your backs for anchor, and how your bare legs graze his jeans but despite the covering, he can feel the heat radiating off your body. 

“You’ll see it better when the sun’s up,” he leans on his right arm, shoulder bumping yours when he reaches for his Lucky Strike pack. Eddie flips it open, his small lighter lodged to the side of his cigarettes. You peer over, chin on his shoulder. He pulls out one, sticking it between his middle and index before he uses his thumb to pull his lighter out. 

Then he looks at you, nose beside yours with the minimal proximity. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“No,” you say. “My dad smokes. The dad who adopted me, I mean.”

“I know,” he smiles before he sticks the cigarette between his lips. He shoves his pack back on his pocket, sitting back down. “Do you smoke?”

The question was muffled through a lisp, but was still understandable. “Haven’t tried,” you answer. “But I almost did. It was weed, actually, that shit you sell? When I came back during summer, Steve picked me up and he asked me if I wanted to get high,”

“Really?” The cigar bobs when he speaks, the hand that cups over lowers slightly, his thumb stopping on the sparkwheel. “How long have you and Harrington been friends?”

He finally lights it up, the white paper burning into a crisp orange until smoke begins to vent. “Since middle school. Met him after my parents adopted me from my foster care. They took me to Hawkins, our house was near his, and we were invited to dinner by Steve’s parents when they were still present in his life.”

A burning jealousy on the pit of his stomach, ignited not by the lighter. “Were you good friends?”

“I’d like to think we were,” you tilt your head back and look at him. Eddie feels your pinky tap his, which he taps back. “When his parents started going on business trips, and mine were…well, working in Hawkins, Steve and I hung out in either his bedroom or mine,” you smile at him. “But, we rarely talked when I left for New York. It was a phone call every three months. And then he picked us up at the airport,” 

He lets the smoke leave the corner of his lips, on the other side where you weren’t. “Did he, uh, tell you all that shit about Henderson and Wheeler?”

“Through the phone. It’s kind of crazy,” his heart flutters at your light smile. “You know, I’m not sure if I should tell you this shit or not, but he told me about this whole thing about- monsters, and all that crap. Demogorgons, demodogs, the Upside Down. The Mind Flayer-”

“What, like DnD?” Eddie snorts. “Maybe the little shrimp talked to him about it, who knows,”

“I mean, he was half-drunk when he told me,” your lips purse. “Either he played DnD, or he dreamt about it. I mean, I asked Nancy about the Starcourt fire but she wouldn’t tell me anything!”

Eddie takes another puff, a long one that reaches his lungs. “‘M pretty sure he was just stoned,”

“What about you?” he sees you observe the cigarette, but he’s sure you’d been looking at his hands first and his dimly lit rings. “How’d you know him?”

He taps his finger on the rod, chunks falling down on the grass on the minimal space between your legs. “High school,” his lips twist into a frown. “I had my first senior year with him. And- uh, he was a douchebag. King Steve,” Eddie nods his head, a sardonic smile offered to you. “And when Henderson came and said that he was awesome, kept on insisting, actually, it was hard to believe.”

“Did he ever, uh,”

“Call me a freak?” he finishes. “Once. Twice. Dunno. We crossed paths but never really met, I guess. We knew we existed in each other’s lives but we never really acknowledged. He was too gung ho on Nancy Wheeler,”

You chortle, a plain snort leaving you that renders him amused. “Oh, God. Nancy. D’you know Steve wouldn’t stop talking about her whenever he called me.”

“You ever get jealous?”

He hopes you say no. Never did. He’s my friend. Only ever liked him as a friend. I don’t like his hair, I don’t like his smug smile. Eddie doesn’t care if it deems him jealous. But there’s nothing bad in hoping, right?

“No,” you ponder for a bit. “Maybe,”

His heart sinks.

“Only because I wished someone talked about me the way he did to Nancy,” a pensive gloss covers your irises, lit by the vibrant colors of the town upon your grazing knees and swaying feet. “He sounded so in love. And I always thought about how she would feel if she knew someone talked about her like that.”

He sighs. “You never know,”

You think he’s in thought, with the way his shoulder presses against yours absentmindedly and the silence that’s drawn out from his peart mien. 

“I had this dream when I was a kid,” you whisper. “That I was the greatest pianist in the world. I was singing with Billy Joel and—everybody knew who I was,” Eddie smiles. “And, ever since that dream, I’ve taught myself how to be one of the greatest pianists in the World,”

You exert amenity towards him when he laughs bemusingly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” your eyebrows furrow for a split second. 

A sudden memory climbs its way to his head. “Do you remember back in middle school? We, uh, hung out a lot after the talent show. And- and all we did was play music,” He says it with slight uncertainty; he himself can barely remember all those times yet he based on a single memory. “We played this one song all the time.”

“Does Everyone Stare,” you answer. “The Police.”

“That one,” he nods his head. “Because it was the only song we knew how to play that had guitars and pianos.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you nod. “I can’t believe we forgot each other,”

“But I do remember some parts,” he takes a short hit. “You said that you wanted to marry Billy Joel, and then you kept on bragging to me how you could play Die Young like, fifty times,”

“Only the Good Die Young!” you correct him. “God, yes! I played that even when I was in Queens. My grandma loved that song.”

“I always wondered why you had a huge crush on him. He was old,”

“He was not!” you gasp.

Eddie shrugs, lips curling in amusement when a huff leaves his nose. “Yes he was! And it was a good reason for me to get jealous, too,”

Shit.

If he could, he’d ululate his stupidity into the sky and embarrass himself further because it’s already out now, isn’t it? But confirming your jealousy didn’t mean he’d harbored feelings for you, right? He could be jealous for other reasons like…

He doesn’t remember.

“Jealous?” you repeat. “You were jealous of Billy Joel because I liked him?”

“We were kids. Hell, I got jealous when Tommy H. brought his Nintendo to school. Or when Barb Holland—may she rest in peace—won class president. I get jealous all the time,” he snickers. “Don't let it get into your big head, Mandy.”

Double crossed between his lies and what you truly perceive, you shake your head mirthly. “Yeah. Okay, Munson.” you roll your eyes at him. “God I… whenever I played that song, I always imagined I was in a concert. With this… huge grand piano. I’d play for those snobby rich people, then I’d get roses thrown at me. I’d play so hard my fingers would bleed and they’d give me a standing ovation,”

Eddie smiles. “What a dream,” he looks away, chin on his neck when he looks down on his lap. “I’d be your first ever watcher. Then I’ll throw tomatoes at you and boo you off the stage,”

He looks back at you and you laugh jovially. 

The muddle of alcohol in your head almost makes you miss how his jaw clenches and his eyes soften. A solemn twinkle in his button eyes, nostrils flaring as he stares at you with the smoke on his cigarette flowing between the tangled strands of his hair. 

Suddenly nervous with his intense stare, you nod at his cigarette. “Can I-uh, try?”

Eddie blinks. “Yeah, sure.”

He offers it to you with a balk stutter on his hand. You lean over, your hand almost on his thigh as you wrap your lips around, lipstick staining the orange filter that leaves a pink coruscating shine. Brazen do you inhale, cheeks sucked in, gray smoke filling your lungs until you cough abruptly and push it away.

Smoke puffs when you cough and he laughs jubilantly. “Mandy!”

“Fuck,” your hand grasps his shoulder, the other covering your mouth. “Christ. No wonder why my dad says I shouldn’t smoke. Oh- shit. Ah.”

He pats around beside him. “We left our water in the car,”  

“Screw it. I’ll try again,” you wrap your hand around his wrist and take the cigarette in your mouth, sucking like your life had depended on it until Eddie himself has to pull it away. It’s a bit calmer this time, no coughs and only smoke. 

His palm meets the side of his hand to a mock applause. “Bravo.”

“Who taught you this?”

Eddie takes a short puff. “My old man,”

Your smile falls. “Oh, shit, sorry,”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “My…mom got mad when she found out. I was eight,” he licks his lips. “And, you know, I told myself I wouldn’t do it again. But highschool happened and before I knew it, I have a metal lunchbox full of packs and weed,”

You feel his pink shyly tap yours. “My mom used to take me up here,” Eddie continues. “Way before Dustin did and- we used to go up before the sunrise so we could watch it. When he was dead asleep,” he swallows thickly. “She’d make these sandwiches, chocolate and peanut butter, and we’d eat them while we watched the sun rise; and she’d point out all these butterflies,” he shows you his wrist where the insect lays. “And she said ‘Eddie, you must always cherish the beginning of a new day,’”

He mimics the voice of his mother in a high-pitched voice and a tone that lilts to a posh border. Eddie knows it’s not exactly her voice, but he loves a good impression.

“She sounds like an amazing person,” you whisper.

“She was,” Eddie muses, a melancholy wave that crashes on him as he lays on the undertow, helpless. “She always had this bubble of hope, even if my dad always popped it. She just kept on blowing, and smiling, and loving even though she was struggling and honestly,” he looks at you with a sad smile, “she’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met,”

Your heart breaks the slightest. But he looks at you like the brightest star he's ever found.

“She always had a bubbly personality even when everything was tough,” he sighs. “And I haven’t done this. Watching the sunrise since she, y’know, because I always slept in,”

His chuckle makes you smile breathlessly. But it had been more wistful. There’s a mosaic of maudlin rings over your eyes, on the verge of shattering. “Is that why you took me up here?”

“Kind of,” he drops his head sideways. “There’s no sunrise, though. So I hope this will suffice,” 

“I’ll take anything you give me, Munson,” you smile softly. “It makes me happy, either way,”

Finally, your pinkies hook behind you. His finger is warm, bigger than yours but bears a whit of gracious familiarity. They hook, as thick as thieves; Eddie gifts you a smile so warm and loving that makes you lean close.

“Even if my van’s all run down and loud and on the verge of burning?” his eyebrow raises. “Or I stain your reputation?”

“I don’t even have a reputation,” you laugh. “But yes. Even if you van smells like marijuana and you, like, listen to Orgasmatron for god knows how many times. I’ll accept anything,” 

I’ll accept anything.

Eddie leans close, tobacco breaths exchanged, nose bumping with yours; his eyes are low and hooded, his eyelashes that tickle his cheeks when he blinks rapidly, fearing that once he opens his eyes you’re a mist within the gray smoke. And fuck, you’re pretty.

Prettier than the barely there stars above you, prettier than the morphing clouds that entice him at seven in the morning, prettier than Sweetheart (his beloved guitar, yes); prettier than everything else, you being the center of attention, the only attraction in his terrifying world. His heart pounds like he’s fallen down the rollercoaster, and it feels gratifyingly amazing.

Your pinky clutches his tightly in a silent promise. And he vows to keep it, whatever it may be.

“Just where our bones will rest,”

Befuddled, he pulls back slightly. “What?”

“I thought of a lyric,” although disappointed, Eddie finds it in himself to smile lightly. “My heart's on a string around my neck and I stare just where our bones will rest.” you say. “Shit, Eddie, do you have a ballpen?”

“Lucky for you, I do,” he reaches for his pocket again and pulls out a blue pen with the cap covered in small indentation of bites. You frown. “Sorry. I get nervous a lot.”

“It’s okay,” you unscrew the cap. “Um, fuck,”

You unlace your pinky from his, pulling your left forearm out so you’d write the lyric just above your inner elbow, small across the skin of your forearm. 

“I could get this tattooed,” you mutter. And then you look up at him with a proud, bright smile. 

“I could do it,” his shoulders raise to a shrug. “I mean, I mostly do my own tattoos,” Eddie shows you his arms—the butterfly on his wrist, the bats on his forearm, before he pulls on the collar of his shirt and shows you The Devil. “Either I use my machine or the stick and needle,”

“Didn’t know you knew how to do tattoos,” you narrow your eyes at him. “What’s next? You can fix cars,”

He almost says yes.

You reach to touch the tattoo on his forearm in awe, delicate finger grazing his inked skin, petting the hairs on his arm. “Seriously. I’ll do it, (y/n),” he chuckles. “Just gotta tell me when,”

With your eyes gilded in delirium, you nod. And he smiles.

Eddie Munson had only been in love once. 

But he had no idea he could fall in love twice. 

-

You could remember how delicate he’d been.

Eddie had taken you back to his home. The place dark and desolate with the missing presence of his beloved uncle. He’d sat you down on his couch, apologized for how messy the place had been and that you’re getting your first tattoo at some dingy trailer. And you remember how your words succored the insecurity out of him; how he visibly deflated in relief and knelt in front of you.

Although covered in latex, his hands were warm against your arm, but it was incomparable to the spark you felt when you looped your pinky around his. 

His words had saged the pain from the stabbing needles. Constant praises that made your stomach flip; ballyhoos that made your cheeks burn as your mind swallowed them in a way that you shouldn’t— “You’re doing a great job, babe” “Taking it so well, aren’t you, Mandy?” “I know it hurts, but it’ll feel good soon,” “Good girl.”

Good girl had been the last straw. 

Eddie was doing it on purpose, right? Or your mind was just too deep into the gutter?

He’d traced the words you wrote on your inner elbow in vigilant precision. Eddie was fruitless of failure, nothing amiss in the Stygian tattoo. Which left you in awe given that he’d used a stick and needle rather than the machine hidden somewhere beneath the depths of his dusted bed. 

When he was done, he lathered your arm with ointment before covering it with plastic—cling wrap. And he drove you home with smiles painting both the canvases of your faces; the inside of his van filled with nothing but twitching hands that yearn for reconciliation, and knowing looks exchanged between the music of The Police.

You had laid on your bed with the lingering feeling of his latex touch and his bona fide scrutiny that night. A silly smile on your face when you think of Eddie Munson; the boy who’d disappeared in your life who you miraculously found again.

special thanks to: @vendettaparker, @munsonquinns, @familyvideostevie, @applcrumbl for proofreading :3

PART TWO

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED 💕

[awesomestarfighter]

I Should Have Known Better Then To Debate My Brother On Star Wars But I Did It Anyway

That's a lengthy way to start a post, I know, but I'm in a very riled up mood right now.

I remember the first time I argued with him about this. Our family did a rewatch of the Star Wars series (prequels than originals) at my request (and I usually never get emotional, so they were very concerned when I started crying my eyes out during Order 66 and asking if we should stop) and afterwards we talked.

Since I'm an avid Pro Jedi fan, there was a lot of arguing about 'The Jedi could have done this/should have done this!'. A bit with my family, but mostly with my brother since we're an argumentative pair and he's the only one who's watched extra materials such as TCW to further why the Jedi failed/should have done more.

We had to agree to disagree, so it ended there. Now here I am years later, having already talked to him about why glorifying this particularly abusive M/F is not peak romance or good writing, what defines bad writing, and general amatonormativity, and since I'm back in a SW swing, I thought about bringing it up to him, hoping he'd gotten a little more flexible since the last time we talked about it.

Clearly, I was too optimistic to think that.

Cue the usual tangent of (which I've already seen from. . . So many fans):

-The Jedi should have known Palpatine was a Sith.

-They should have treated Anakin better.

-They should have made him a Master.

-They shouldn't have given him that advice about death.

-Obi-Wan wasn't ready for a Padawan.

-They should have investigated Sifo-Dyas's murder.

-They should have investigated more.

-That's just the way the story is written and how the characters would react in real life, so of course Filoni is a good viewpoint on the Jedi.

. . . And just the general, 'they should have done more' statement that's been uttered countless times before.

I tried to point out the flaws in this way of thinking, I really did.

-It's established right in TPM that the Sith have been extinct for a very long time, and they verbally acknowledge that they don't know whether the one killed was the Master of the Apprentice, so it wasn't like they just up and forgot about the enemy that could still be out there. And it's literally stated in the very next movie that their ability to use the Force has been diminished, so it's not like they could have seen the Sith in plain sight in the force. Minor note, I know Force Signatures are mentioned a lot in fanon, but I don't remember anything like that ever being mentioned in canon (I know there's Legends but that's a separate continuity). With all that to keep in mind, why would they think he was a Sith? We have a different view of things because we're the audience, but they don't! Even though they didn't magically know he was the Sith Lord, that doesn't mean they're blind to his dealings or the corruption within the Senate, unless I completely hallucinated the part where the Jedi Masters were on their way to arrest Palpatine even before they learned he was a Sith Lord.

-Questioning a kid to see how he would respond to your ways of life is not being nice enough apparently (people can debate about his trauma and the authorial intent all day, but the basis is that the Jedi are not supposed to be framed as the bad guys). Apparently adopting him and treating him as a part of their family just isn't enough. Clearly, they should have coddled him even more, maybe then he wouldn't have murdered them down to the last child! (This is sarcasm because they never treated him differently or anything, even the Chosen One thing is barely brought up, and all his darkest moments are ones the Jedi were never made aware of). I know people will just say to put him in therapy because I've seen them say that many times before, but the truth is that he's already in therapy with the Jedi, he just doesn't absorb any of it because he doesn't want to.

-Yeah, because an adult throwing a temper tantrum when he's been appointed to a leading authority by a shady government leader who should not have any authority over their organization isn't sketchy as fuck, that response alone proves he WAS not ready, because he still didn't understand what the Jedi were about, much less mastery of himself. My brother at least admitted that was a good point when I outlined it, so score for me, I guess.

-People give Yoda grief all the time for his advice, but they always seem to forget that, firstly, Anakin is asking this during a war they've been fighting for three years, one they've lost many friends and family to, and secondly. . . Anakin was really fucking vague when he brought this forward. He doesn't even specify who he's talking about isn't a fellow Jedi, clone, or otherwise (And I can't help but draw a parallel to how he didn't tell Obi-Wan about his visions of Shmi and people will blame Obi-Wan when Anakin's the one who can't bother to properly fucking communicate) and he doesn't listen because it's not what he wants to hear. He doesn't just want to save Padme; he wants to cheat death because he's possessive and greedy and doesn't want his loved ones to ever leave him. Yoda's advice was actually very useful, but since when has Anakin ever listened to good advice? Once again, my brother admitted that was a good point, so the second score went to me.

-I know fandom loves to portray Obi-Wan as this self-hating mess that's barely keeping it together (who also does a lot of medic dodging for some reason?). . . But that's not who he is in canon? The real Obi-Wan is controlled and capable, and he was a young adult when he was Knighted, not a kid, who went on to become the youngest member of the Council when he became a Master. It wasn't like he was left to teach Anakin alone, because he had the Order, and they're canonically big on communal teaching. Even just in the movies, we frequently see that Obi-Wan's the one who reaches out to Anakin and Anakin's the one who shuts him out. Obi-Wan was a great teacher, Anakin was just a shit student.

-The Jedi learned about Sifo-Dyas's unauthorized role in the creation of the clone army literally right before the war broke out, so it wasn't like they were in a position where they could look more into it. Even before that, they were under the impression that he died during a failed peace negotiation. My brother still said this even though there was a literal WHOLE ASS ARC IN TCW WHERE THEY INVESTIGATED HIS DEATH. He watched that arc to, and he still says they should have investigated his death even when they literally did. I have no words for such a contradictory way of thinking.

-I know it's easy to say stuff like that, but Star Wars isn't written for adults who want all the messy bits, but for kids for a good vs evil story, so of course investigation stuff is shoved to the side. Even in TCW where we do see them investigating, they're hampered by the Senate, by Palpatine, by the war, and by the narrative. Even ignoring that, Anakin literally said in ROTS that Palpatine was the Sith THAT THEY WERE LOOKING FOR, so that means they were investigating even though we didn't see it onscreen.

-Filoni. . . God just thinking about him makes me angry. I could write a whole essay on how he's twisted the narrative for Star Wars so badly, and I hate essays, but plenty of people have already done it better, so I won't.

-But still, I think it's hilarious that I can point out certain things he's written terribly (TCW, TOTJ, TTB, and Ahsoka) to show that he doesn't like the Jedi, and my brother is still saying, 'well that's just how the story is written and how the characters will react so he doesn't really hate the Jedi with that sort of evidence and blah blah blah.'

-Of course, for TCW, my brother brought up that stupid arc where AsHoKa iS pErSeCuTeD - I just think it's funny how, with trying to make his special oc look good and the Jedi Council unlikable, Filoni accidentally made her unintentional unsympathetic and made the dOgMaTiC lEaDeRsHiP unintentionally sympathetic. And of course, who could forget the infamous s7 moment of her not being fair to Obi-Wan? I know people will say she's a teenager and she's confused and she's still feeling betrayed - but the thing is, that doesn't hold up because the narrative never follows up on it. It's not a personal flaw of hers, it's solely there to frame Ahsoka (and Bo-Katan/the Mandalorians by proxy) as right and Obi-Wan (and the Jedi Council/Order by proxy) as wrong. I'm sure there are more examples that can be noted, but those are definitely two of the biggest offenses in my book.

-Tales of the Jedi wasn't even about the Jedi, it was about two specific individuals who LEFT the Jedi. One who went on to become invincible/immortal/a sanctimonious prick/even more of a mouthpiece then she already was, the other went on to become the undisputed head of an enemy who went full throttle on genocide, slavery, and war crimes. Mace's treatment and Yaddle's treatment was more poorly veiled racism and even more poorly veiled Jedi hate. And of course, the super special training from Anakin that allowed Ahsoka to survive Order 66 unlike those useless unprepared Jedi who were too soft on their kids - but really just made him look like an incredibly abusive parent. Frankly, while I do hate Anakin and can see him pushing too hard as in character, even I can see that it could have been written a lot better than it was. Tales of the Jedi was a fucking joke because it should have been titled 'Tales of The Super Special Creators Pet OC and the Asshole Who Falls And Spearheads A War', and if we ever get Jedi content that is actually positive for them without the usual criticisms coming up (Kenobi's the only one so far that's come the closest) I'll be throwing a fucking party.

-Of course, I have to point out TBB's whitewashing, consistently carried over from TCW except even whiter, though I forgot to mention how that show just completely fucking forgot the Jedi existed. Though frankly, I wouldn't want them to be mentioned in the utter waste of time that TBB is.

-Ahsoka was made into even more of a mouthpiece in her show then she already was. I didn't even watch Rebels in its entirety because I don't care for it, but even with some of the more frustrating decisions with her in that span of time she never said the Order wouldn't have fallen if they had just brought in more non-Force Sensitives to train them into being Force Sensitive (another part of canon that Filoni has fucking taken a hammer to) singing Anakin's praises after she's 'saved' by him (though even in Rebels it got pretty egregious how she just fucking abandons the Rebellion and the Jedi because she won't leave him again) just being a general fandom anti on how the Order was at fault for everything and Anakin was actually predestined to become a Sith (instead of defying his destiny by attacking Mace and siding with Palpatine as per Word of God) so everything he did was justified. All written and directed by Filoni, just as the other pieces where he's had narrative control will label the Jedi as arrogant, as forgetful, as unworthy, as not ENOUGH. And as soon as he can, he shoves them aside for characters who are 'to cool to be a Jedi, a cooler Jedi than those useless old Order jerks who spent too much time playing politics and being too stringent because they were cautious rule followers and not plucky rebels and weren't loving enough to poor widdle Anakin and -'

Though frankly my brother had some pretty ludicrous takes in general. There was this whole tangent we had about how since Rex removed his chip and voided death, that makes him gray/puts him in a gray zone. I just bluescreened at that, because while I've never cared for morally gray characters/storytelling, a character stepping out of their slated place in the narrative so obviously isn't gray it's not even funny, it's infuriating. While I know a part of me being a writer is what helps me look at stories more critically, it still makes me feel so confused how people will just take in bad writing or come up with bullshit takes like this. Whatever happened to thinking critically for the good of storytelling?

. . . I don't usually write my own posts (even though I'm usually better at wording things than actually voicing an argument as it started with my brother) because I prefer to just reblog stuff on my blog, I wrote this primarily as a vent post because my argument with my brother really got me stirred up, but I've been in a salty sw mood lately so it was kind of cathartic to get this out.

Also, if any Jedi anti or fan comes at me with 'but actually the Jedi should have -' no. Please just don't. I always try to tag stuff properly so people who won't agree will know what my blog themes are about, I'm never in the mood for the run of a mill gotcha takes that infest this fandom and I will not hesitate to block you if you come onto my post for that.

[kaiijo]

can I request "dorm leaders being jealous of you"? I would love to see how you would write this ♡

housewardens being jealous of you

characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus notes: gn! reader, interpreted this as more of a “what they're jealous of in you,” reader is the s/o to the housewarden in each scenario

riddle rosehearts

riddle is jealous of your spontaneity and go-with-the-flow personality. another effect of his mother, riddle can’t just do things most of the time, he has to plan them. the unbirthday parties, for example, need to be planned to a t: start painting the roses before first period (get at least half of them done, finish after first period during the ten minute break), set the tables by noon, and serve tea at exactly two o’clock in the afternoon. in stark contrast, you can just throw something together at the last minute. riddle nearly had a heart attack the first time he let you plan an unbirthday party by yourself, especially when you told him that you were just going to “see where things took you.” but it wound up being a lot of fun and the recipient — cater — absolutely had a blast. while riddle doesn’t exactly want your spontaneous mentality, he is certainly jealous of the freedom that comes with it but is simultaneously glad that you’re not burdened with a need for an often rigid structure.

leona kingscholar

he won’t admit that he envies your optimism. he’d actually rather die than say that out loud but it’s true. because he has a generally cynical outlook on life, he finds it hard to put a positive spin on things. you, on the other hand, are pretty good at it, and it makes him feel a little better when you give him your more optimistic take of whatever topic is at hand. your optimism isn’t blind optimism either, but it definitely is lighter than leona’s doom and gloom outlook and less grating the farena’s optimism. he can’t say that he wants that outlook on life for himself, but he likes it in you since it gives you a certain innocence and freedom that leona can’t seem to find for himself. it also makes him feel like everything isn’t so grim and bad all the time, and actually gives him hope for some aspects of life.

azul ashengrotto

azul envies your confidence, especially since it’s not unfounded by any means. you’re good at most things and if you’re not, you still approach whatever it is with everything that you have. as someone who’s always been bullied and put down — something that only really stopped when he developed his unique magic — he has a hard time being confident without magic. you go into everything with an air about you, like you know it’ll all work out in the end for you. if he’s being honest, azul wanted to steal your confidence somehow before you started dating, but he realizes now that that would defeat the whole purpose of why he wants to take it: to be naturally confident. he admires the self-assuredness you have in yourself, and he can only hope that one day, he can reach the same level of confidence that you have for yourself and for him

kalim al-asim

kalim isn’t jealous of this per se but he wishes he had your perception and ability to read people. he’s always been pretty oblivious, perhaps a side effect of growing up so privileged and, frankly, sheltered, and he’s been shown time and time again that he has a hard time actually understanding what people are feeling beyond the surface level. you’re good at knowing when something’s off, when people aren’t saying what they really feel and, more importantly, you’re pretty good at solving the problem or helping someone rectify it. kalim loves and admires your perceptiveness and hopes that he can, one day, read people and help people like you do.

vil schoenheit

like leona, he’ll never admit it but vil is jealous of your ability to let things go. a perfectionist, seemingly for all his life, vil is always fussing about something. the wing on his eyeliner isn’t sharp enough, he’s looking a little too far left in a photo from his most recent shoot, the essay he turned into crewel has one word that could have been swapped for a more appropriate one. you, on the other hand, have an innate ability to just let things roll off your back. if you see a typo or two in a paper you turned in, you just shrug and say that you’ll look it over more next time while that kind of mistake rattles around in vil’s head for the rest of the day (or next few days, depending on how egregious the offense is). vil knows that you letting things go isn’t a mark of laziness but of understanding the process of growing and learning and changing, which is why he envies and admires that in you so much.

idia shroud

idia is jealous of your confrontation skills. as someone who is pretty shy and withdrawn, idia cracks under confrontation, especially when it’s face-to-face. he swears he’s usually the verge of passing out when it happens, but when he sees you in an argument with someone, he’s jealous of the way you step toe-to-toe with them. you keep a level-head and throw out whatever attack is necessary — logical thoughts or barbed insults or just words that try to deescalate the situation. you rarely flinch and you never, ever run from it, preferring to face it head on. idia wishes he could do that too, it would solve a lot of problems. while he’s envious of your ability, he also loves it since now he has a significant other and a protector.

malleus draconia

malleus is jealous of your ability to make friends so fast — you can be thrown into any social situation and come out with at least one new acquaintance. you’re always the first person people want at parties and gatherings, and malleus can’t help but frown enviously when he hears you got another invitation. being so feared and intimidating gets tiresome, especially when people purposefully “forget” to invite you because of that, so while you being a social butterfly is one thing that malleus loves about you, he can’t help but feel jealous of that aspect of you either.

[crazilust]

Astro notes (4)

Hi, I'm back once again with some observations. I wanna promise that I'll be back to being consistent, but huh. It's gonna be what it's gonna be. Please disregard anything that doesn't apply to you, this is just for fun.

For a sign that's so fond of freedom, Sagittarius are actually quite clingy when they actually love you. They probably won't admit it, but they'll pretend to miss their buses to see you, ask you to join their day-to-day activities, etc. Quite surprising, if I'm being 100% honest.

You will most likely never catch a Virgo mercury in a lie. Virgo placements in general keep track of things, and won't ever reveal too much of anything. I believe that's the reason why they get away with lying in general. They don't create these absurd, big lies out of nowhere. It's actually believable.

Aries wants to believe in something. Mix it with any sign, and it'll follow that other sign's needs. Mix it with Pisces ? It creates the biggest romantic that wants to believe in love at all cost. Mix it with Capricorn ? They believe in working hard, climbing the ladder of their work's hierarchy. Aries is, in general, very optimistic and they need to channel it somewhere.

I've noticed that people that don't believe in astrology, for the most part, can be the most stereotypical representation of their signs. I believe it's because because they choose to be blind of their birth chart's energy, they tend not to work on it and therefore just become the perfect stereotype of their signs. It's always so funny to me.

12th House synastry's relationship are so intense. You feel like you're doing something wrong, but at the same time, feel like you're growing exponentially faster than with anyone else ever before. It's a "beware before you enter" type of relationships. Definitely not for the weak.

It's so true: Aquarius placements, especially in Venus or 7th house tells you a lot about if someone is going to be queer or at least experiments with the same gender.

Talking about Aquarius, if you ever need advice and want your mind to be absolutely blown, I would talk to an Aquarius. They tend to have such a different way of perceiving the world that if you ever feel like you've explored all the options, talking to them can open up the most obscure and bizarre solutions (that work!)

The moon sign affects you way more than you would think. Your moon sign rules your emotions. For some signs, emotions are supposed to be completely private, for others they can let it out. Two persons of the same sign could have two different exterior reactions but feel the same internally. That's why your entire birth chart is important, people!

Jupiter really blesses with their natives with such an abundance of creativity. Look at Pisces and Sagittarius artists. Not every Sagittarius or Pisces you'll meet will be creative, though, but if they allow themselves to reach that side of them, they can really access depth that other signs might struggle a bit more.

The modality is such an interesting thing to take into consideration. Fixed signs are really self-righteous and the moment they think they're right, they will go pretty far simply because in their minds, it's the right thing to do. They might feel bad if other people mention to them that it's not right, but they won't change their minds. Their work ethic might be flawless because of it, but it can very well turn into a flaw.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

That's it for me, guys. I always love doing these. I'm currently drinking a matcha latte and life is ... good.

X,

Dolly.

[clusterbuck]

keep the ones who want me

6x05 coda

buck drives them home, and the jeep is silent as eddie spends the whole time trying to decide whether or not to bring it up. when he finally opens his mouth, they’re just three blocks away from his house.

“anything you want to tell me?” he asks buck, tipping his head back against the seat and letting it roll to the side.

buck seems to—flinch, almost, but it’s brief and barely there and eddie’s taken advantage of the fact that buck agreed to drive tonight, so he’s not entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it. he blinks and it’s gone, blinks and buck’s in the driver’s seat just like he always is, one hand on the wheel and his elbow propped against the window. any tension eddie thought he’d seen is gone, nowhere to be found in the languid lines of his long—

“what do you mean?” buck asks, interrupting eddie’s disintegrating thought process with a slight frown.

“just—back there,” eddie says, waving a hand in the vague direction they’d come from. “you’re not planning on trying to transfer again, are you?”

“first of all,” buck says, quirking an eyebrow at him as he turns to check his blind spot before turning into the driveway. “you’re one to talk about leaving the 118.”

eddie holds his hands up. “that’s true,” he says. “but i was always going to come back.”

“second,” buck says, turning the car off but making no move to get out. “why would i be trying to transfer?”

“i don’t know,” eddie says on a sigh. he doesn’t reach for the car door, doesn’t even unbuckle his seatbelt. they could easily continue this conversation inside, but—some things are easier to talk about in the dark, when you don’t have to look directly at them. eddie has a nagging feeling this might be one of those things.

“i was just thinking about—you said it might be the last time we’re all together,” he continues, his eyes flicking to buck and away again. “why would it, unless—”

“i’m not going anywhere, eddie,” buck says, low. “hen’s leaving, and i know she says she’s not going to disappear but we all know what doctor schedules are like, so i just thought—i don’t know, it seems unlikely that we cold just—keep things the way they’ve been.”

eddie hums. “unlikely, maybe,” he says. “but not impossible.”

“sure,” buck says. “not impossible. we’ll do it once, maybe twice, then hen has to miss one or one of us has to cover a shift or someone will be injured and then suddenly it’s christmas and we’re sending hen holiday cards thinking about how we haven’t seen her in sixth months.”

“christmas is two months away, buck,” eddie says, and buck rolls his eyes.

“but you get what i mean,” he says. “right? we’re all hopeful and optimistic now, but this is how it starts.”

and there it is, the thing that’s too fragile to examine under the bright artificial lights of his kitchen, the thing that can’t take shape in the same space as something as mundane as a cup of coffee.

“how what starts?” eddie asks.

“hen leaves first, and then—what, a couple of years from now bobby retires, and then—”

“and then what?” eddie asks. “where exactly am i going? where’s chimney going?”

“i don’t know,” buck mumbles, dropping his head back and staring at the roof of the car. “but that’s just life, isn’t it? people move on.”

“is that life?” eddie asks.

“isn’t it?” buck counters. “everyone leaves eventually.”

“not everyone,” eddie says.

“everyone dies.”

“who’s dying?” eddie asks. “buck. you’re spiralling.”

“am i?” buck asks. “i know what happens to guys like—guys like me. i’ve seen it.”

it takes a second, then eddie remembers the old firefighter buck met years ago. the one who’d died alone, who’d lived out his final days alone, who’d had buck somehow convinced that was his future, too.

“buck,” eddie says, softer now. “you’re not red. you’re nothing like him.”

“yeah?” buck asks. “nothing like the guy who ended up alone when everyone else got busy with marriage and family and kids? i couldn’t even keep the damn dog, eddie.”

“that wasn’t a dog,” eddie mutters. “that was a chaos demon with fur and a tail.”

buck huffs a laugh and eddie grins, shifting in his seat to face him.

“buck, you’re nothing like red,” eddie says again. “red didn’t have a sister, for one thing. maddie wouldn’t—”

“no,” buck agrees, soft. “she wouldn’t.”

“and for another thing,” eddie says, “red didn’t have me, or an eleven-year-old who hangs onto his every word.”

“i thought you said he was growing up,” buck says, dubious.

“he’s growing up on me,” eddie says. “dad isn’t cool anymore. but i’ll bet you anything buck still is, hm? you want to come in and see?”

buck had planned on just dropping eddie off, on going to the loft for the night, but eddie’s not letting him off without an object lesson in exactly how much evan buckley is nothing like red delacroix.

“i should—” buck starts, and eddie rolls his eyes.

“you should crash here for the night,” he says, in a tone that brooks no argument. “and in the morning you should teach chris your french toast recipe, because he says mine isn’t half as good.”

buck hesitates for a moment, still, but eddie sees the moment his resolve cracks and he softens, like he’s finally allowing himself to relax. “well, then,” he says, flashing his first genuine smile since they’d climbed into the car. “if it’s about the french toast.”