#not that i've ever had doubt in any way that i'm autistic

[turtlevariabilis]

Ok, this post is going to be somewhat long because I want to vent about a topic and ask for advice. I've noticed that in this community, there are many neurodivergent people, perhaps because Rise Donnie was confirmed to be on the autism spectrum, and Rise Mikey was confirmed to have ADHD (which wouldn't surprise me at all if it were the same in any version of TMNT).

Well, the thing is that BEFORE discovering Rise Donnie in early 2023, I had already spent a year with a strong suspicion that I might be on the autism spectrum due to something very specific that I discovered about myself (this is something I normally don't share with anyone, but since I'm anonymous here, I don't mind talking about it).

Back then, I discovered that I had ARFID (an eating disorder in which your diet is extremely selective). It’s something I’ve struggled with since I was a baby, from the first food I ever tried. I won’t go into detail about this part, which has always been very difficult in my life, but when I found out that what I was suffering from had a name… it meant that I wasn't the only one in the world 🥺 I'm 26 years old, so I've been suffering from this since 1998, and I found out that it was only given a name in 2013, and I only learned about it in 2022!

There wasn't much information, but I definitely discovered something about this disorder that disturbed me greatly.

Most people with ARFID (though not all) are on the autism spectrum. And something clicked in my mind. Because I've always felt different, I've always had social difficulties. When I was in college, around 2011, before Asperger's was included within the autism spectrum, I had already researched it and concluded, with doubts, that it wasn't my case. I didn’t have a good memory, nor was I very intelligent—I got good grades in school because I worked hard and was interested 🥺 (when I was in elementary school, they suspected I might be dyslexic, another diagnosis that was never pursued because it eventually "got better"). I also ruled it out because they say people on the spectrum are very routine-oriented and organized, and I considered myself the opposite.

But in 2022, I started searching for a lot more information (yes, somewhat obsessively—I even read books on the topic). And in 2023, I discovered rottmnt and Rise Donnie, which intensified my search for answers about myself...

The thing is, recently, I've been reflecting on 2019, the year I hit rock bottom mentally (and irresponsibly, I never went to a psychiatrist). I thought it was depression that I'd been dragging on for years... but what if it was something else? The way I tried to push myself forward was completely opposite to what is recommended for people with depression... and what if it was autistic burnout? Depression and autistic burnout share symptoms but require opposite treatments! (Talking about non-medical treatments, of course).

I made a list some of my autistic traits, things I've been gathering, and I'm sharing them here:

1. ARFID: I'm extremely selective with my food, and I have been for as long as I can remember.

2. People have told me that I "seem like I'm from another planet."

3. I've been told that I don't know how to comfort people (not in a bad way, just as an observation).

4. Before I turned 15, I barely spoke at all outside of the house. But I knew how to communicate in other ways... If I needed to complain about something to a teacher, I would write a note on paper and hand it to them. If I wanted to play with other kids, I could easily join in without saying anything.

5. I discovered this recently: when people talk about their problems, I tend to propose solutions instead of simply understanding what they're feeling.

6. I also discovered this recently: I don't understand what's happening with my emotions until they accumulate and I break down in tears.

7. I’m not comfortable with physical contact. Even as a baby, I wouldn’t go into the arms of strangers. And people, even family and friends, naturally ask me if they can hug me before they do... and of course, if they ask, I'll say yes!

8. The few times I listen to music, it’s rare and always on loop (just one song on repeat, and I have to force myself to stop after a while because I don’t have a natural limit).

9. My obsessions, like TMNT (though I've had others at different times in my life).

10. The simple fact that, at 26 years old, I’ve never had a boyfriend, and I’ve never kissed anyone, despite imagining it many times.

11. The times I’ve gone out to party late at night, I would end up crying when I got home, even if I had a “good” time. Now I understand it’s because I was exhausted.

12. I’ve always described having a switch in my mind that allows me to disconnect from my surroundings if the noises are too much (so they don’t bother me). Even though my mom told me that once, when I was little, she took me to see fireworks, and I apparently had a meltdown and covered my ears because of the noise, this never happened again, and I wouldn't say noise is an issue for me.

13. I NEVER, and I mean NEVER, make eye contact unless the other person isn’t looking directly at me. The thing is, I never realized this could be bothersome to some people. No one ever told me I had to look into people’s eyes, so I just never do it!

14. Crowds are definitely what bothers me the most. I think I could lose my sense of reality if I stayed in one for too long.

15. I need instructions to be given to me step by step, exactly as they need to be done; I also have difficulty understanding some jokes, double meanings, and I take things quite literally. For example, when we studied metaphors in school, I never understood them, and that’s because we never talked about them at home, haha.

And I could go on with many more specific things and anecdotes!

And why, if it seems like I never really did the famous masking, did no one ever suggest that I should seek a diagnosis?

What happened is that the more I researched the topic, not only did I recognize my own autistic traits (though I wouldn’t say I’m autistic without an official diagnosis), but I also realized that my parents and sisters fit well within the neurodivergent spectrum too. This created a mutual understanding between us, and we didn’t see any flaws in each other. I think I grew up in a very safe environment 🫶🏻 and was somewhat sheltered from the outside world.

As I mentioned, I don’t know if I’m on the spectrum or if I have other neurodivergences, but after what could have been depression or autistic burnout, and all the introspection I’ve done in recent years, I’ve realized that yes, I’m different, I’m "odd" in many ways, and I need to accept myself as I am. I’ve even forgiven myself for not eating as I should. While it would be good to work on it a bit, I don't need to feel guilty about it, and as long as I’m healthy, there shouldn’t be a problem.

Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s worth seeking a diagnosis or not. I wouldn’t know what to say, who to go to, or if they would take me seriously after all the self-discovery I’ve already done… I just don’t know. On one hand, I think I’d like to know, not just for myself but also for the people closest to me so they can understand me better… but at the same time, we’re all different, and we all have our quirks and deficiencies… so I’m not sure what to do with everything I’ve learned—whether to leave it as it is or to pursue it further in a professional way.

Tell me about yourselves—if any of you suspect or know that you’re neurodivergent, and what your thoughts are on the matter.

[mantequillamcwhoremick]

hah i so knew someone would have already asked for Kenny lol if you are still bored - Kevin? 🫶

Omg thanks for the ask!!! Hheheheheh this is an interesting one....

Favorite thing about them:

There's literally so little about him so it's hard to pinpoint something canon to deem my favorite thing but I guess I would say his adult design. idk it just speaks volumes about his character, especially when you compare how well put-together Karen looks next to him. I have a million Kevin McCormick ideas and a oneshot about him and Kenny in the works.

Least favorite thing about them:

I have a hard time with this part of the ask meme bc most characters don't have something I blatantly don't like, even their worst flaws are interesting and engaging. So I'm just gonna say I hate how little info there is to him

Favorite line:

"'Just take a seat in there, kids.'" /mockingly (S15, "The Poor Kid") he has like 4 canon lines or smth but the way he imitates the police officer here just kinda speaks volumes to me about his character

brOTP:

lol idk I'm just gonna go with Kenny, they deserve some genuine screen time together

OTP:

this one is fairly common but Shelley & Kevin. It makes sense. Do they have any canon interactions? No. Have they ever even been in the same frame together? Not that I remember. Is that gonna stop me or all the fantastic fanartists I've seen draw these two from rooting for them? Absolutely fucking not. They're two very outsider-coded kids, and by what we've seen of Kevin's characterization and Shelley's boyfriend Larry Feegan (who died </3), he could definitely be Shelley's type. It would be an entertaining dynamic to explore in canon & fic.

nOTP:

/

Random headcanon:

I think he is autistic and/or has another developmental disability. It just checks out with what we've seen of him, how he's been characterized, and I'm pretty sure he has inherited his parents emotional problems as well, since we see him physically fighting and insulting Stuart in s15's "The Poor Kid" even though Carol is telling them both to stop and Karen is crying. In the "Bigger, Longer and Uncut" "Blame Canada" song it is revealed that Carol thought Kenny had the stuff to become a doctor or a lawyer, and given the aforementioned headcanon I kinda can see Kevin being written off as a good-for-nothing by his parents. This is supported by Carol calling him, alongside Stuart, a "drunk piece of shit". I can imagine him getting into lots of problems when he's older, as evidenced by how old and shabby he looks as an adult next to Karen, who probably looks as put-together as she does due to having grown up receiving support from Kenny.

Unpopular opinion:

I see him being characterized as a good brother to Karen and Kenny sometimes and as much as I would love that to be true, I doubt they have a good relationship, if any at all. He seems more like a super distant kind of older brother to me, who occasionally becomes Kenny's problem when he comes home drunk or high or when Kenny has to pick Kevin up from the police station because their parents are working or just being neglectful. I can imagine Kevin being an inspiration to Kenny for all the things he never wants to do to Karen, even if it never should have been Kevin OR Kenny's responsibility to step up for their younger siblings in their parents' place. I can see Kevin even resenting Kenny and claiming he's their parents' favorite, similar to how Shelley does with Stan.

Song i associate with them:

I'm sorry I can't think of one hsdjhaskjd but I'll edit this post once I do!!

Favorite picture of them:

It's a yucky picture I'm just a big fan of his adult design <3333

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Hi, sorry to ask but have you written any fanfics where Jerry is autistic? I've read your autistic!morty fic and thought that was excellent. I'm trying to find Jerry-centric fanfics where he isn't mischaracterized/demonized. (Way too many people write Jerry as transphobic which -_-ll no he isn't)

Hi, no need to apologise! I haven't written any autistic Jerry fics and I'm not sure if I know of any (if anyone else does, please leave recs on this post!). I do 100% view him as autistic though. Thank you!

Yeah honestly Jerry being portrayed as transphobic is something that bothers me as a trans guy? I headcanon him as supportive but clueless/cringe at times (he a little confused but he got the spirit).

I do have a trans Morty WIP with a scene between Morty and Jerry, although Morty is still very early on in figuring out that he might be a guy, and Jerry kind of knows something is up but assumes Morty is a lesbian rather than a trans guy and so kind of fumbles but ultimately is trying to be supportive/nice. Morty does worry about Jerry not loving him anymore if he's trans, although this is Morty's POV rather than being objective/a thing that actually happens.

I'll leave the scene below the cut in case anyone's interested. Warnings for mention of periods (and them being referred to in a gendered way), fear of transphobia from parents, accidental misgendering (and misgendering/deadnaming of Morty in the text since this is only the very start of Morty's gender questioning).

“Morti? Rick said you’re sick. Are you OK?” Jerry opens the door. Morti quickly shoves her phone under her pillow. Thankfully, her dad is as oblivious as ever as he walks over and rests a hand against her forehead.

“You don’t feel warm. Is it, uh, you know,” Jerry points down towards his own abdomen, “woman troubles?” he asks in an exaggerated stage whisper. Morti wants to die all over again. She presses her face into her pillow.

“Hey, sweetheart, i-it’s OK.” Morti feels Jerry rest a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

Morti takes a few deep breaths to calm herself and then sits up.

“N-no, Dad, I’m OK.”

“OK, honey.” Jerry wraps his arms around her and Morti can’t help but wonder if he would still hug her like this if he knew what she’d spent the past couple of hours reading about. She hugs him back tightly, suddenly unable to stop thinking that she might have to make the most of the affection while it lasts.

When Jerry pulls back, his face clouds with concern and Morti realises she’s once again been crying. She’s getting really sick of that.

“Morti, honey, what’s wrong?”

Morti feels the question writhing around in her gut until it chokes its way out of her mouth. “Dad… you’d love me no matter what, right?”

“Of course, sweetie. No matter what, you’ll always be my daughter.”

The words are meant to be a comfort, but all Morti can think about is the possibility that she’s not his daughter.

“Morti? Are you gay? It’s OK if you’re gay, you know.” As always, Jerry is well-intentioned but clueless. Truthfully, Morti’s not really put much thought into her own sexual orientation, and it’s not her main concern right now. She shakes her head, and Jerry looks doubtful but leaves it. 

After a few minutes, Morti works up the courage to speak again. “Dad? Could-could you… tell me a story? Like when I was little?” she cringes as she says the words, knowing she’s far too old to be asking for something like that. To her relief, Jerry smiles.

“Sure thing, sweetie.” 

He launches into an improvised story, very similar to the ones she remembers him coming up with when she was younger. She has a memory of Summer complaining Jerry’s stories were boring, always demanding more action. However, once Summer had aged out of wanting a bedtime story and left Morti as the sole listener, Jerry had settled comfortably back into his original stories, which Morti found calming and reassuring. 

Her dad’s voice relaxes her and she rests her head against the pillow, feeling her eyelids begin to droop. Jerry’s hand rests on her hair and strokes it gently, just as he used to all those years ago. It’s enough to block out the negative thoughts for the time being, and Morti is so exhausted from the recent events that she soon drifts peacefully into sleep.

[lionheartslowstart]

POA

Something happened recently that has caused me to confront the fact that I am truly disabled. It's not that I didn't know I was, of course I have since the autism diagnosis, but I really, and I mean really, got hit in the face with it.

I'll explain.

I can't go into too much detail regarding the actual circumstances, but the long and short of it is that I had to give my parents power of attorney in order to solve a housing issue. I trust parents completely and I know it's not something they would ever abuse. They made it clear to me that should I ever want to dissolve it, we could do that, and that the sole purpose for getting it was to avoid any houses issues now and in the future.

We had to go to a lawyer's office to sign the document and have it notarized. It was all very official. Afterwards, I drove home, sat on my bed, and just cried.

When I received the autism diagnosis, I was diagnosed with Level 1 autism. Autism is divided into 3 different levels. However, in my research, these levels seem to pertain strictly to social skills. In this way, yes, I am a Level 1 autistic. But if we're talking about "functionality," I'm not so sure I can qualify as Level 1 anymore. (Seriously, why IS it split by social ability? That's stupid.)

I'm 30 years old, and I'm still financially dependent on my parents. At this point in my life, I can't work a full time job. As a result, I will never be financially independent, and I will never be able to afford housing on my own. I say "at this point," because maybe one day that will change, but I doubt it. And for the record, I count myself lucky I can at least work a part time job, because 85% of autistics can't work at all.

Autism is a developmental disability, and I feel that as I'm getting older, it's become more obvious. Because I'm staying the same. I mean, obviously not completely the same. I've learned and grown and matured, and my friends who have known me for over a decade always comment on how much I've changed, but that's not what I mean. I mean that I feel like an adult and a child at the same time. I mean there are certain things I can't DO, certain things I can't retain or process, because my brain just won't let me. For example, I can't set up health insurance by myself. Every time my mom tries to explain it to me, my brain glazes over. That's the best way I can explain it. And I swear, I am trying SO hard to pay attention. I can't help it. My brain just...won't.

If this is what my life looks like when I'm 30, what is it going to look like when I'm 50? 60? 70? Not good. Not a good quality of life at all.

I'm so jealous of my friends and family. I don't understand how they do it. Even my other autistic friends are able to work full time or go to school full time without incident. (I did go to college full time but I almost ended myself like 3 times and I had to take a LOT of time off throughout.) It makes me feel guilty and bad. Like a loser. A failure. And yes, I know that autism can look different in everyone. I guess this is just one of the ways it affects me personally. But even so, it's painful to watch everyone around you be fully independent, and for whatever reason that's just not you. I mean, I'm independent in other ways. I can live by myself, make my own appointments, work part-time, and form meaningful relationships. I'm really trying to focus on those things instead, but it's been difficult to stay positive. I feel like financial independence is pretty major.

I want to interject here and say that I am insanely grateful to my parents. I know how blessed I am. They are my biggest supporters, both emotionally and financially. They love me so much, and if I didn't have them I'm certain I'd be homeless, probably long dead. I know that most people don't have parents like mine, let alone autistic people. I thank them all the time and tell them how guilty I feel and reassure them that I'm not lazy or spoiled, that I take their support very seriously. And they always assure me that they know, and not to worry about it, and they just want me to be happy.

But I do worry about it. My parents have wasted so much money on keeping me alive, it makes me physically ill. If I wasn't around, they'd have more money in their pockets for other things. They wouldn't have to worry about me all the time. I genuinely feel like they'd be better off without me, at least in the long run.

Like I said, the thoughts have been real dark lately, y'all. I've been extremely depressed since we instated the POA. This is my reality.

I don't know if my friends will still want to be friends with me in 10 years. Even my autistic friends. I don't like that I'll most likely never be financially independent. It is my greatest shame and I wish so badly it wasn't true.

People who insist autism is a fad and that people fake it for attention or whatever can eat my entire ass.

I would do anything, and I mean anything, to not be autistic.

[sciderman]

do you ever think that maybe a lot older comics with nerdy main characters are just... The MCs just have high functioning autism but at that point in time autism was just viewed as kids acting out and being aggressive because of stigma so the writers wouldn't have written that they have autism because of how negatively it was viewed. Because looking back today I feel like especially in older comics from like the 80s, there's a lot of main characters who display signs of autism but they wouldn't have been considered as autistic behaviour because again of the stigma surrounding it at the time. Just a thought id like to share.

i think there's something there, for sure! i can't speak to every older comic about nerdy main characters - the only one i've read is spider-man and i don't think there's any doubt at all that he's a neurodivergent king. always has been. always will be.

peter's kind of always been victim to misinterpretation by people around him - kind of always having the desire to escape social situations - kind of just - yeah. i've always read him as autistic. and yeah, it might be the stigma, but i also think it's just - a lot of people go undiagnosed. and, well, you know, it's a spectrum, everyone falls on it, to varying degrees. and not everyone needs or pursues a diagnosis. i've been told i'm probably on the spectrum - even doctors when i was a tiny child observed my behaviours and thought i might be on the spectrum, but i've not had any sort of formal diagnosis and probably never will pursue it because - i guess i Am high-functioning and i feel like a lot of the problems i face are things i can manage.

i think that's the case for a lot of people in the world - not just me. that yeah, you recognise there are shortcomings you have that aren't always in your control, but you do your best to keep your head afloat. i don't think any brain is normal. and i think there's a benefit to having characters like peter parker who face these very familiar neurodivergent troubles but - without any sort of formal diagnosis. like, it makes me feel less alone when i see peter parker struggling in social situations because i see myself. and other people might see themselves. it's like, it's a nice access point.

i don't know what sort of impact it would make to talk about this sort of thing canonically - i do like characters that you can project onto. that you can interpret in different ways. i don't know what the world would be like if marvel decreed peter parker was canonically autistic. but i think most people do kind of think he is. and i think a lot of his fanbase love him for those traits because they see themselves in him. i don't know if making him canonically autistic and giving him a diagnosis in canon would help or hurt that - i think there probably still is a stigma, and i think marvel would be too cowardly to do it because - because once you put the label on it, you have to tread more carefully and do more research. if you keep it vague, you can't offend anyone. i know that maybe, if peter had an official autistic diagnosis there might be cries of oh! he's a bad example! he's too stereotypical, or he's too violent, or he's wah wah wah. maybe it's better to keep it vague. so everyone can see themselves in him, even if they're not ready to admit that their brain might be freakier than they think.

i think i love peter parker for being a character who definitely has a weird brain that trips him up constantly and still keeps fighting for his life, day to day. me too, buddy.

[ante--meridiem]

Post is under the cut for typical Creepy Ex Landlord content but there's nothing new on that front, just me processing stuff that had happened while the situation was ongoing.

I've been half considering telling my new roommates the real reason I moved out from the previous place because I have reason to believe they'd be understanding and we've definitely reached the level of friendship where that kind of thing can be shared but I hesitate to even call it "sexual harassment" out loud and not on tumblr because to do so I have to interrogate whether I ever actually said no clearly and firmly enough, though at the end of the day I'm fairly confident I did and its failure to get through to him was him just not wanting to listen. I laid out my discomfort to him several times and he apologised and seemed really genuinely guilty/upset and I told him I didn't want him to apologise or feel bad I just wanted him to stop and then he'd go straight back to what he'd been doing before.

I guess what I'm stuck on though is, maybe it's just autistic inability to fully comprehend that people can be lying to me but his belief that he's done nothing seriously wrong or against my consent seems fully genuine. He seemed honestly hurt and confused when I blocked him as soon as I could because he'd really believed we'd still be ""friends"" after I moved out. There was this one time when he was telling me about a news article about a woman who got sexually assaulted and he was all wide-eyed I-just-don't-understand-how-people-could-do-that innocence about it and I truly understood what emotion the phrase "look into the camera like you're on the office" expresses, because really?

I'm pretty sure most of it runs on technicalities and plausible deniability because ok, if you do things without asking that you have plenty of reason to think I wouldn't be ok with then technically I didn't say no, and you can even be proud of yourself for stopping once I do get around to saying it. And if you plead and wheedle with me until I decide it's easier to give you what you want than keep arguing then technically I said yes. But what really throws me is how much he seemed to genuinely believe he was morally in the clear, rather than just having legalistic plausible deniability.

Like, by the end of it and by the time he found out my sexuality, even he couldn't convince himself that I secretly wanted him. Even before he'd found out, he'd mostly switched tack from "so what if you have a boyfriend, he can't tell you what to do" to "what's so wrong with me that you aren't attracted to me? :( I've been so nice to you :(" but he never seemed to have any level of cognitive dissonance over, if I had never had any shred of attraction to him and repeatedly expressed discomfort with him being sexual towards me, why I would have ""consented"" to all the things that I totally definitely freely consented to and he totally definitely never forced on me and pressured me into (please note heavy sarcasm). He really thought I'd stay friends with him, "friends" of course here meaning "we cannot have a conversation that stays for longer than five minutes on a topic other than him commenting on my appearance and asking me for pictures". Like, I get missing signals other people think are clear, but if I found out someone I'd thought was freely consenting to physical intimacy with me (giving him benefit of the doubt that he actually thought that) felt that way my reaction wouldn't be "too bad you're not attracted to me but we'll still be friends where I constantly talk about how pretty you are and what you should wear. I never pressured you into anything btw! Me going oh come on whenever you said no to me was just me being cute!", it would be "oh shit, did I pressure you? I'm so sorry and will leave you alone immediately if that's what you want." And then actually leave them alone.

And this "you cannot honestly believe you're innocent can you? If you really believe that maybe I somehow wasn't clear enough?" doubting on my side is all pretty standard stuff as these kind of situations go I'm pretty sure, and I feel reasonably confident most people would still take my side given full details, but at the same time... even on tumblr I see people making fun of the idea that you should ask verbal consent for every little thing as "puritanical", and while I'm reasonably sure those people are talking about "someone who's been flirting with you leans in for a kiss so you don't ask before going for it" situations and not, this whole thing, I can only think that Creepy Landlord had somehow convinced himself it was that kind of situation.

....anyways.

[sourcoded]

Okay alt timeline kenshi has been spinning around in my head like a microwave soo here's my personal take on his childhood and back story etc.

( most of this is stuff i've posted on twitter but i doubt half of you follow me on there LOL and no one really saw it anyways... sooo ill put it here to, also no character limit so i get to explain shit in detail yippie!)

tw for child abuse mention under-cut

* He was isolated and secluded for most of his childhood due to his family's general paranoia about outsiders and there family linage etc which from that point on made it tremendously difficult for him to connect with his peers. He was home schooled, only ever allowed to mingle with the few children among his extend family ( but unfortunately most of them were already older teens so he barely got much fun out of hanging around them any how.) * But at the same time he grew up way to fast due to the irresponsibility of the adults around him and eventually was forced into the world at a young age. His mother had rather poor health and was horrifically codependent, his father was mostly uncaring of this, neglectful to both her and kenshi's needs but especially controlling, and saw kenshi as nothing more but a tool to orchestrate his vision of the future for there clan and practically worked him to death whenever it came to training. * This endless cycle went on from the age's of 7-16, up until his mother finally succumbed to her poor health and passed. grief stricken and traumatized kenshi finally made the decision to run away, but not without his father putting up a fight. after a tireless battle that almost ended his life, still kenshi came out on top and ironically beating his father with everything he's ingrained in him for all his life, but whether or not his father survived is unknown, kenshi presumed he died from his injuries and kept on his way immediately after. * kenshi picked up any work he could to support himself afterwards, moving place to place, and for the longest time not really sure on what he's searching for exactly, his past still weighing on him heavy. though he found genuine connections through proving his skills and finding worthy opponents and such, he still had a tendency of keeping most ppl at arms length.. more intricate hc's: - due to his mom's codependency and his fathers neglect he is CHRONICALLY independent and tends to bite off way more than he can chew. - He's super avoidant of big emotions and reactions, almost having a sort of flat effect. which can make him appear rather detached, cold and brief, or when in better moods he puts up a front that's rather witty, dry and even a little bit of a mischievous sense of humor. - he is vry autistic if this wasn't already obvious! ( all kenshi's are fight me..) he lives on a rather strict routine for himself and again due to the abuse this made the chronic independence even worse. - guilt and grief eat him up a lot, its super hard for him to navigate either, with suchin's death, he had a tremendously difficult time confronting these things with takeda and finding closure in a healthy manner, so imo this is why he chose not to visit ..i truly believe he wanted nothing but the absolute best for takeda, but again with his circumstances things were just to much (but esp in the moment with red dragon on his tail lmao..?) ( and i esp feel like he didn't want to hinder takeda's growth in anyway either)...big believer in sometimes the parent being there is WORSE! so imo i think this is along the lines of what kenshi was dealing with all those years he left takeda with hanzo. ( i'm super passionate abt this can you tell ...sorry this got so wordy LOL) - last but not least i believe suchin was among the vry few people he let in and became THAT close with, prior to that he's only been with like a few men here and there but only 1 of them were sort of long term.

[lylahammar]

TW Fatphobia, self worth issues

Hey so I have a question and it's cool if you don't want to answer because I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but how you find someone who's willing to date you while fat? I've been fat ever since I hit puberty and I've never found someone even willing to give me a chance, much less actually appreciate my body, despite being very extroverted and asking out lots of people I've been attracted to. Most of the time people legitimately looked horrified and weren't exactly nice with their rejections of me, while the nicest were very firm that they'd never give me a chance because of my body. I'm 23 and I know that that's super young in the scheme of things and that worth doesn't come from people being attracted to you, but the persistent rejection on the basis of my appearance has done a real number on me and my self worth at this point, especially knowing that I'm a trans guy and autistic on top of it which doesn't help people liking or appreciating me. I kind of doubt that anyone will tolerate my body, much less actually like it at this point, so I was wondering if you had any advice because I really like your fat positivity stuff and you seem to be in a very happy relationship. Thanks for any advice you might have!!

Hello!! This is a little bit of a tough question since there is never one perfect solution to social situations like this, but I'll try my best 😅

I think that a really good idea for fat people trying to date is to engage with fat positive communities. For example, my girlfriend found me through my TMA comics, and she was attracted to the way that I draw Martin (that is to say, fat as he should be). We later became friends, and then eventually started dating. In fandoms for media that has good fat representation, you're far more likely to find people who are into that.

THAT BEING SAID, I think this is important for a lot of people but especially fat folks: keep things platonic for a while to get to know the person and suss out whether you can trust them before romance comes up. In fact, I would say to not even focus on searching for romantic partners. Just look for like-minded people who you can be friends/feel safe with, and then eventually romantic feelings might develop. Chubby chasers can be totally fine and safe, there's nothing wrong with having a preference for fat bodies! But fetishism is unfortunately a problem for fat people. Don't let yourself be objectified, unless you're into that (which is totally okay, but REALLY do some introspection to decide whether you're actually into that rather than just tolerating it for the sake of staying in a relationship). You are worth more than someone's fetish. Just because it's harder for us to find partners doesn't mean you should settle for someone who doesn't treat you right.

If you want to go for dating apps or anything like that, be honest about your body. I know there's a temptation to only add headshots in your pictures if you're feeling insecure, but you're far more likely to get hurt that way if you end up matching with a fatphobe. Also, again, take it slow! The most important thing (in my opinion, I'm not an expert) is to make sure you can trust the person before jumping into a relationship.

Also, yes, 23 is super young. Try to resist the anxiety that makes you feel like dating is a rat race! There isn't a set age to find your people or settle down, even if society tries its best to push that on us. Focus on yourself first! Make friends, develop healthy habits (without worrying about weight loss, just being healthy at any weight), and get really into your interests. You'll find your people naturally over time, and romance comes with community. I know this is really annoying and generic advice, but it's just the truth :P The people who are attracted to you naturally gravitate to you when you show your authentic self to the world.

[bigusbossus]

Nia can I ask you for a little advice? I know this is mostly a silly Metal Gear blog but you’re a little older than me and also an autistic trans guy who likes men so you’re the only person I can think of who really fits this bill.

For a while now I’ve called myself bisexual but now I’m really starting to doubt that and I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know. I think I might be gay. Whenever I’m attracted to a woman it feels superficial, and even then it’s still fairly rare.

I’m attracted to maybe 3 woman and a lot of men. I know that doesn’t necessarily dictate anything but I don’t know. I can’t really imagine myself even having sex with a woman outside of the typical male ego stroking way where it’s more about status than anything else.

I look at nsfw artwork of women and I’m able to get off to it, sure, but I’m never really attracted to any real videos of women and I’m just so confused. I used to consider myself asexual which was partially because of this and partially because of my dysphoria making it impossible to imagine having sex as a woman- I found the idea of it completely repulsive. Maybe I still am somewhere on the asexual spectrum. I don’t know. I’m just so confused Nia.

I have a girlfriend and I care about her a lot but I just can’t imagine myself ever having sex with her. I don’t think I’m attracted to her at all. Even most of the fictional women I’m attracted to are all quite masculine and I just don’t know. I love her a lot and I don’t want to hurt her but I just don’t think I’m attracted to women.

i understand so much and I'm so sorry you're struggling with this, sexuality is such a weird complex thing and not all things need labels but also I feel compelled to give my two cents bc I've gone through this before and I didn't realize I wasn't into women as much as I thought I was until 2 years ago. for most of my life I've identified as pan and I've had more girlfriends than boyfriends (though those girlfriends were before I came out as a guy) and always wondered why my relationships with women just felt weird and off. like I can look at a woman and go wow she's bangable but not actually want to do anything with her, but when I see guys im like " OHHH FUCK HES BREEDABLE!!!", when I was with women it always just felt like I was pretending?? i didn't realize that wasn't normal until I got with my boyfriend and everything felt natural. like when I got intimate with a woman it felt more like I was roleplaying than actually feeling it. i still thought they were very physically attractive I just didn't like them that way I guess. even after publicly being out and presenting as a guy I still tried being with women but in the end It felt the same, like I was with them for the ego stroking part 😭

I found out I am homoromantic and ace with a preference for men. to be specific aegosexual which is like.. " yiss sexual stuff ...but no not irl and not to me" and I can really only feel comfortable doing something intimate with someone I've known for a while and is a guy (and preferably trans too). but like I said not everything needs a label, and sexuality is a weird thing, like you can identify as mostly gay but be attracted to some women like how ace people can be attracted to some people

it looks like you're in a really tough spot right now and I think that you should really talk with your girlfriend about this when you're ready because if you go on it won't only hurt her but yourself too. you can still care and love for someone while not being attracted to them and it's definitely best to just be honest with her, im sure she'd appreciate the honesty too. I hope everything turns out for the best man :(( sorry I don't really know how to give good life advice but I think you should start with talking about this with her and I know that's going to take alot of courage but it would be for the best

[willesworld]

twenty questions for fic writers

Omg this is so fun thank you @zee-has-commitment-issues for the tag! I love these!

How many works do you have on AO3? 111 total and 34 YR fics (and there's more on the way!!)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 403,737 (terrifying but cool!)

What fandoms do you write for? Only Young Royals right now. I don't have the brain space for literally anything else.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Going with just the YR fics)

feels like

erik's baby

a bit like us

I only want you near me

when the heat comes

The top 4 are Autistic!Wille fics which makes me feel INSANE and AMAZING.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I used to respond to every single one (and I wish I still did), but I'm honestly so tired and burnt out with life so I don't have energy to do it anymore. But I do read every single one, and they make me IMMEASURABLY happy.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm I think most people would say tense but I'm also quite partial to the angst in It's almost like the deep cuts make us beautiful.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Ooh this is interesting because I loooove hurt/comfort with open endings. But I also think that most of my fics have happy endings (because I'm a sap at heart). I think under gentle hands is very nice, and so is I only want you near me.

Do you get hate on fics? Very occasionally, but I don't think it's happened in this fandom. :)

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Uhm... yes. I don't actually like men. So. That's interesting. I'm also on the ace spectrum. Also interesting?!?!?! But, yes, I have written smut, although I try to make it more about the feelings and intimacy than the actual sex. And I have another smut fic coming that I hope to post soon😖

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I do not lol. I don't really vibe with crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of?! I hope not.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Once or twice in the Harry Potter fandom yes, but not in the YR fandom!

What’s your all-time favorite ship? Wilmon Wilmon Wilmon Wilmon. I love them. They have my heart.

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Hmm... probably this Autistic!Wille series who has a special interest in stars/space/astrology. I have so many hcs and ideas for that series but I honestly lost interest in writing it.

What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good at writing dialogue and natural conversations!

What are your writing weaknesses? Probably any descriptions or exposition. I don't know how to write the things that I can just see in my head. I also wish I was better at light hearted writing. My dearest friend NerdGirl07 has such a gift for hitting all the emotions while still mixing in some lightheartedness, and I would love to steal this skill from her.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Yes. I do it. Why not?

First fandom you wrote for? Shadowhunters 🥲

Favorite fic you’ve written? While looking back through my YR works for this tag challenge, I was actually so proud of myself and the fics I've written hahah! I really do like many of the things I've written! Some highlights though are The daisy follows soft the sun (soulmate AU), the taste of lace & you (fem!wilmon smut I'm actually so proud of this one), and of course the autistic!wille alternate universe (which i hope to work on again soon).

Tagging @piebingo @ishotforthestars @skydragon05 @altruistic-meme if you would like <3

[robertseanleonardthinker]

can i just talk abt how goddamn isolating being autistic is (for me at least)

big rant ahead

like of course for the more obvious reason of i can't read social cues and i have trouble interacting/socializing with people. but like there's so much more to that and i haven't seen anyone else ever talk abt it. it makes me think maybe this is just me who feels like this.

i fucking wish i could be like everybody else. i wish i could express my feelings in a normal way. i wish i could show people i loved them properly. in ways where there's absolutely no doubt about it.

my boyfriend knows he's loved by physical touch. that's his love language. i hate being touched. i don't like hugs and i don't like hand-holding and i don't like cuddling. sometimes i can make myself do it but most of the time i can't and it kills me to know he's not getting the love he needs or deserves. just because my brain isn't the right way.

it's hard for me to even understand the feeling of love. it's hard for me to understand all of my feelings. but especially one so complicated. i don't get it. it confuses me. it's weird and complicated and makes me feel arrrggggshghfgr. i never had crushes (or i guess never knew i did maybe?) as a kid and it made me feel left out. i would pretend to have crushes on people just to feel like everybody else.

i used to think i was good at reading social cues up until somewhat recently. the reason i thought this is because i never knew what i was missing. it wasn't there for me. it wasn't until i heard a neurotypical person explain how they experience things that i realized... holy shit. i've missed so much. i've missed so many subtle things. this made me think... how many people actually liked me as a kid but i couldn't tell because they didn't say it up front? how many times did i sob myself to sleep as a child thinking nobody liked me when maybe i didn't have to?

it's the same way with shows and movies, too. i miss out on so much and it fucking sucks. i can't fully understand even my hyperfixations. god only knows how many important things i missed just because i can't see them? i see people talk about this or that in a show i've watched dozens of times and thought about so deeply and i'm like... what the fuck are they talking about??? and then i realize, they're talking about things that were told through non-verbal communication and such. things that i don't pick up on. things i never realized had any meaning.

another thing with shows and movies is that i absolutely hate watching them with other people. it's because when i'm around other people i feel like i need to react to certain things a certain way. i need to display my emotions the same way they do. if they cry, i should be crying or otherwise i'm a cold heartless bitch. if they're laughing, i need to laugh too otherwise i'm emotionless and weird. i feel the same emotions, i know i do. i just don't show them outwardly. and i hate that. when things are sad or funny, i feel those emotions. it's just that that's not the way i express them. i feel like i need to perform or else i'm wrong. i'm watching the show wrong. i'm feeling those emotions the wrong way.

sometimes i feel like i even think the wrong way. the way my brain works is that i don't think in just words. when i am in my head and thinking, it's a mix of words and images and gestures and feelings and sounds and sensations and smells and what the fuck ever. it's so hard to put what i think into words. i think that i think some very good thoughts and i'd love to share them but i can't and it hurts me because i want other people to be able to enjoy what i'm enjoying, you know? like i'm not saying i'm the best and my thoughts are the best, it just makes me happy to share my passions and ideas. but i can't. my speech is stop-and-go and choppy and forced. it's hard. it's hard to even type this out. it's hard to find words.

i feel so isolated. i feel like i miss so much. like everybody else is speaking a different language i'm not allowed to ever learn. it's their secret. i'm not allowed. but they make fun of me for not knowing anyway.

[stinkehund]

I'm having a very bad time and i'm going to yell into the void about it. I doubt many people will read it, but trigger warnings for .. i dunno, a bunch of things. Depression, loneliness, othering.. It's sad stuff.

I'm clinically depressed. I'm autistic. I'm trans. More or less sapphic. Pretty damn kinky. Very asexual. I listed them in ascending order of how much i think they define me as a person. None of those characteristics really presented any problem to me. Some i really like to have. Some are just kinda there, as a matter of fact.

I've recently had to accept that i'm probably aromantic. At least partly. A big part. And that one i have a hard time accepting. I'm not entirely sure why. I can write down an educated guess, though. You see, asexuality is easy to parse when you have no libido and you never enjoyed sex. Yeah, some people get a bit weird about it, but most really don't care and that's okay, because i don't care about it either. And bigots gonna bigot, anyway.

The aromantic part, though.. most of the world -people, media, you name it- will tell you on a near-constant basis that true love -romantic love- is and should be the ultimate goal of every life lived. And that wanting anything less or being fine with not having it makes your life lesser. Incomplete. I want to say that's bullshit, but in all honesty, i don't know if they're wrong - after all, I have no basis to compare. And life feels pretty damn incomplete to me, so maybe they're right?

You see, i 'love' people. My friends, mostly. Some parts of my family. But i never actually, romantically loved anyone. I don't know how i would. In fact, i can't tell you what the difference would be between my love for my friends and their love for their significant others. For me, there is no difference. I can understand liking a person more than another person - but why a lover should be more important than a friend simply because of the romantic love aspect, that i can not grasp. The concept is alien.

If i go by feelings … i don't think i could care more about my loved ones (as in, my friends) than i do already. I don't see how romantic love could add more to that. So many times i will sit, alone, thinking about how i want to spend time with my friends. How much i miss them. How much they all deserve happiness, because they're all great people and how much i worry about them if they fall on bad times. And i will cry about the fact that i can't reach them, because they're all so far away, because these people are, by and large, my main reason to live on. Without them, i don't feel complete.

But the reality is, none of them think of me the same way i think of them. Every single friend i have will eventually find (or already has found) someone they love more than me. That they care about more than they could ever care about me. I don't begrudge that. I want them all to be as happy as they can be, after all.

But i don't get that option. It feels like my desires, my yearning and my longing is never "enough" because it ends at friendship. My heartache isn't actual heartache, because it stops at friend, instead of lover or partner. My love is not worth as much as "real" love. And so it can be discarded much more easily. And has been, so many times..

It all makes me fear, increasingly as i get older, that i will end up completely, utterly alone. And i'm very afraid that i'm too broken as a person to be able to do anything about that in any meaningful way before its too late.

[eds6ngel]

I Will Always Love You

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

word count: 14.5k

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

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

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

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

MAY 24TH 1965

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OCTOBER 23RD 1965

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi darlin’, missed you”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 13TH 1965

A week late.

Her period was never late.

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

Which led to her one worry: pregnancy.

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 27TH 1965

Ring, ring.

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um.. wow, well, thank you so much”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FEBRUARY 18TH 1967

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But if I keep holding on maybe some day”

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

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

“For then and only then will I stop crying”

“And this aching breaking heart of mind will mend”

“Not until I feel your arms around me”

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

“And I live for then and only then”

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

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

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

“So, guitar huh?”.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEPTEMBER 20TH 1967

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

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

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

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

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

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

AUGUST 9TH 1970

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama! Mama!”, he yelled to her.

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

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

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

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

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

He slowly nods, “Okay, mama”.

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

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

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

He shakes his head, “No mama”.

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

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

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

AUGUST 2ND 1971

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our little secret”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slap.

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

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

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

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

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

APRIL 6TH 1972

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slap.

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

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

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

Slap.

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

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

“STOP IT!”.

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

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

But it was too late.

Slap.

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

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

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

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

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

JUNE 14TH 1974

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I should stay”

“Well I would only be in your way”

“And so I'll go, and yet I know”

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

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

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

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

“I will always love you”

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

MARCH 6TH 1975

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

Which led to James blaming this problem on Evelyn.

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

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

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

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

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 9TH 1975

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

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

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

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

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

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

FEBRUARY 26TH 1976

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s beating.

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

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

“911, what’s your emergency?”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARCH 11TH 1976

Leukaemia.

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

Ring ring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you ma’am”.

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

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

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

She croaks out, “Hey baby boy”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I will always love you”

“I will always love you”

He sang softly, his mom weakly joining in.

“Bitter-sweet memories”

“That's all I'm taking with me”

“Good-bye, please don't cry”

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

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

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

“I will always love you”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARCH 18TH 1976

Freak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNE 7TH 1978

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie scanned the paper: an F in every subject.

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

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.

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

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

DECEMBER 24TH 1978

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help. He was offering help.

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

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

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

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

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

He was home.

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

[polychaeteworm]

Feel free to delete this if you'd like, but your post about endo systems reminded me of a conversation I had with my therapist years ago. I have diagnosed DID from trauma and I told her I often fear that maybe I'm just making it up. We talked about how DID is a response/coping thing and how, regardless of if I "actually" had it or not, it helped my mind through a lot of hard shit. So in the end she asked me if it truly made a difference, I said no.

I'm almost 28 now and frankly have seen plenty of life experiences that are so different from mine, so how could I ever know to tell someone if their experiences are valid or not, ya know? So basically thank you for that post because it made me really think.

No problem! You're very welcome. I write these posts to make people think and to kind of inject nuance even if my nuance isn't always effectivly communicated lol. I appreciate asks like this because they give me an excuse to info dump, so here I goooo..

I unfortunately have a lot of experience with running away from my DID label and needing to frame my system in a way that doesn't cause some alters distress while still healing and being in touch with reality enough to be functional because a lot of my coping mechanisms are tangled inseparably from maladaptive daydreaming.

This would (and still does) have me defining and presenting myself in ways that would make my system look fake. I was the "in denial trauma system" these people say endos turn into and frankly this doesn't make me doubt the validity of endos any less. If they are in denial traumagenic systems, that is sooooo personal! You are absolutely correct about the variability of the human condition and how much it really doesn't make a difference how it all looks in the end as long as someone is coping and healing!

To me, the structure, presentation, and way a system forms is such a sacred and sensitive thing that is so different from person to person that it really can't be picked apart and fully understood by strangers in the way people seem to want to do with Syscourse on Tumblr.

I spent most my life (literally childhood on into college) telling people very non ironically that I am an alien. Because I am autistic I was just traumatized by existing in the world, I was born traumatized, and my autism was received as a supernatural occurrence by my abusive mother (a fun story for another day), so I truly have zero memory of ever being a singlet, or even feeling like a human. Therapists and authority figures outright refusing to engage with this aspect of my condition is what actually did me harm.

I didn't actually heal until I found the therapist who approached me with "ah, ok you're several aliens, how interesting! So let's make sure you can human as best as you can while you're here on earth." Instead of "you aren't an alien, and you are one person, grow out of this." And I've tried! I TRIED SO HARD to be a single human and failed, all I have left of that struggle is a nice mask and invader zim-esque "the humans are onto me!" levels of imposter syndrome.

Why would we, after all these years ever tell someone that they should "just stop pretending" because we don't agree with the way their disorder presents? I'd rather just say something like "hey -specific toxic behavior- is causing me distress, if you don't stop I gotta stop interacting with you" and not attack the basis of their entire mental health journey. It took me a while to learn that one so that's why I'm like "young adults please wait till your brain is done cooking before attacking people".

Deep down though I think my opinion on Syscourse and why I spend so much time writing about this comes from the fact that a core component of my systems trauma is being told that I don't really know my(our)self. And to be seeing takes that endos are "lying" by tons of people who are so much younger than I and the people they fake claim is... honestly unsettling to my system for a number of reasons.

And it's not that I ever think of these people as "stupid kids" it's that I think a lot of younger folks with an anti endo stance have yet to develop an understanding that their experience with mental health isn't universal and that life is not black and white. That latter realization being a hard won understanding, especially if you have mental illness of any kind. I just feel so crazy when people on Tungle hell site think their opinion of someones mental health is more important than what that persons therapist says. Like why. Your disordered need to express pain through negativity because you were hurt badly is showing fam.

But yeah in closing, I had a similar conversation with my own therapist about faking and he had a similar "does it matter" take. He also has been very straightforward with how he believes that if there is something someone is doing as a coping mechanism that psychology hasn't explained yet, and that mechanism is working as intended while conflicting with the DSM, there is just more research to be done.

Im reminded of a Ted talk where a linguist basically explained that a word not being in the dictionary, doesn't make it not a word, it just makes the dictionary incomplete. What makes a word a word is it serving a function in language. Humans police the dictionary, not the other way around. My therapist agrees that the DSM and mental health as it happens to people irl is in a similar situation. It's not a mental health Pokedex, it's so your health provider has a road map to go off of and can charge your insurance properly. It's the collection of what we know and we don't know everything.

I really just dream of the world where we don't have to introduce ourselves as systems with a performative defense of a lived fact.

[salt-baby]

Hello! I am a person with an invisible disability, and I also have trouble socializing because I’m autistic. I sometimes worry that my interactions with other disabled people will come across like I have a weird attitude toward disability just because I’m incredibly fucking awkward and seem like I have a weird attitude about everything. I would like to have some friends who are also disabled in real life- I feel very lonely and isolated right now, struggling to manage my disability and slipping under the radar, and I just wish I had some people to commiserate with. But I worry that if I try to seek out conversations with disabled people they might take it the wrong way or not believe me, i.e. think I’m just some weirdo trying to identify with them baselessly and invade their personal lives. I just wondered if you had any advice. I have gotten the message loud and clear that I’ll never fully be welcome in my social circles of able-bodied people, but I’m scared to try and forge relationships with other disabled people. Thanks for any advice!

Good news - I'm also autistic! I haven't talked about it on my blog before, because to me, my autism doesn't feel disabling and I like my blog to have a narrow focus, but I definitely do relate to wanting to reach out to people and feeling too awkward to manage it.

Regarding other disabled people doubting you because you have an invisible disability, or because you might talk about it in a different way than other people, I wouldn't be too worried. In my opinion, disability is an indelible trait - that is to say, it's something that changes you as a person and always leaves its marks on someone. When reading, I can usually tell when an author is disabled. The shared experiences we've all had make it easy to recognize each other, even if medical gear or signs of illness aren't explicitly visible.

Even if the way we communicate isn't the same as others, that doesn't mean that the truth that you are disabled won't come out. It'll be in the way you talk about disability (likely radically more accepting than most people would be), the way you treat others with a disability, and the way you talk about yourself. There are some things that only disabled people ever seem to understand, because some things you just have to live to get.

I won't lie and tell you that all disabled people will recognize you as one of their own - some disabled people, insecure in their own disability, will try to claim you're "not disabled enough" to make themselves feel better. I can tell you that I believe you, that your disability is an objective fact, and that these are people you wouldn't want around anyway. Every disabled person is already "disabled enough", and I think doubting our fellow disabled people always does more harm than good.

As for seeking out disabled people, I think it can be difficult to navigate. It's a lot easier for people over thirty to find other disabled people than it is for people younger than that. You might try looking for local disability organizations, support groups, or local Facebook groups, but often the people who attend these events are older, and these sorts of groups can be hard to find outside of big cities. There is also a symbol of invisible disabilities: the sunflower lanyard, which you might find helpful. I personally like to wear sunflower motifs, to represent my POTS, but nobody has ever commented on them.

Still, 1 in 4 people in the US are disabled - we're the world's largest minority. By happy accident, I've found that being open about my own disability has helped other disabled people find me. If I talk openly and casually about my knee braces, other people who wear braces will start to mention theirs to me. I think this makes it easier for others to talk about it - disability is still a taboo topic, and sometimes other's aren't brave enough to discuss it openly. When I mention it first, casually, and often, it not only normalizes it but makes it easier for others to join me.

As a little autism pro-tip, I think we tend to have a bit of a surprise tool when it comes to social interactions: our sincerity. I personally find it very easy to be blunt and sincere, and others very much so appreciate being told they're valued. If you meet someone with a disability, and they talk about it with you, thanking them genuinely for it can be a great tool. "thank you so much for talking about that with me, I'm so relieved to find another disabled person" or "that was genuinely such a helpful tip, thank you so much for sharing that with me" or "you're a really cool person, I'd love to talk with you again!" can all be really great ways to make sure our autism isn't read as disinterest. You and I may not show our emotions like others do - sometimes neurotypicals need it spelled out, and if they don't, saying something sincere like that can never hurt. Just make sure you're telling the truth and that it's from the heart. It took me years to realize others thought I was checked out and standoffish when really I was listening closely and excited to be there, and this is the solution that's worked best for me.

I wish you all the best. You seem like a very lovely person, and I think if we knew each other in real life, we'd be friends.

As always, if you want, you're welcome to send me another ask or dm me. I'm always happy to talk about disability.

[awetistic-things]

I have a question, do you have answer and/or resources for me?

I am autistic, and I have great difficulty with math. I can barely multiply - 0, 1, 2, and 5 are the best I can reach, but 3 and 4, once multiplied against something above 5, is too challenging. Forget dividing, I can't do it at all, and every time I ask my father - who's really good at math, supposedly - for help, he explains it in ways that don't make any sense to me, and gets frustrated, which makes me get more frustrated because nobody ever understands that I'm trying my best. Up and down addition and subtraction are easy, but mental math can be painful once the third and fourth digits are reached.

I'm in highschool, where I'm expected to know this and a bunch more, but the best I can grasp is graphs and formulas, - though, I need time to clearly write down how to use formulas, otherwise I'll forget, but the teacher always moves too quickly and I get overwhelmed - nothing else will click.

I'm not diagnosed yet, though I am in the process of it. I've only found one teacher that would do things slow enough for me to process and write down, but creatively enough it still caught my attention. I've thought about asking for accomodations, particularly from my parents, but my mother believes I'll get over these issues with a little practice, despite the fact that I've clearly had these issues over the past year and both parents could not deal with it.

Is this possibly an autistic thing? Should I look at learning disorders? And any advice on how to ask for accomodations I don't have a diagnosis to need?

(I don't have childhood memories to fall back on as I can barely remember them, so that's also some trouble).

Apologies for the long ask - especially if it's confusing or just overall not something you can help with. I appreciate any advice or resource you can send our way! Thank you!

hi!

i did some research and the main thing that popped up was dyscalculia, which is a learning disorder that can cause extreme difficulties with math related topics

here’s the link to an article about it:

as for the autism and whether the two disorders are linked, the articles states this—

although there isn’t a super direct link, it wouldn’t be insanely uncommon for an autistic person to have dyscalculia. i suggest doing more research on the topic (both comorbidity between the two and dyscalculia in general)

————

for the accommodations, i’m not sure what you could ask for specifically considering i doubt we live in the same place with the same things provided. but, talking to a guidance counselor or teacher (especially the one you talked about) could help give you an idea of what accommodations are possible with your specific situation (maybe if your school has a website, they could have some info on there as well)

there is another article i found on ways to help without specific accommodations from a school (although it would be helpful):

i’m not saying you have dyscalculia, but it does seem to heavily coincide with most of the things you’re going through, so i hope the articles help :) /gen

(its 1:58 am right now, so i hope i put all these words together right lol)