#not that you even need to take my personal revelation at face value to know this

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

sorry but if you think the pythia was just some woman high on natural gas you're ngmi

[donquixotehomura]

Valentine's Day with One Piece Boys

Master List

W.C:3295    so uhhhhh my hand slipped oops... I took some assumptions here and I changed some things that are common about these characters in Fanfic writing, my brain couldn’t come up with a lot for Law I’m sorry about that, Crocodile and Doffy can be read as pre or post becoming Warlords, some might be OOC but IDK I wrote this in about a day lol (my eyes fingers and back hurt I need to correct my posture lol) sorry if I didn't write for your favorites, have fun and lemme know what you think I love feed back It took two and a half fucking hours to put the gifs in, cause the line thingy where you add stuff only showed at the very bottom so I had to keep editing and dragging shit around, I'm sure I'm doing something wrong, also I had to look up all the gifs here even tho I have tons cause for some reason "something goofed" .... end my suffering also I wrote this on word and then brought it here so if formatting gets weird that's why, even tho I spent hours on making sure everything is good shout out to my inspo who also encouraged me to write it @cinnbar-bun

 

Dracule Mihawk, Roronoa Zoro, Portgas D. Ace, Donquixote Doflamingo, Eustass "Captain" Kid, Charlotte Katakuri, Massacre Soldier Killer, Sir Crocodile, Trafalgar Law.

Dracule Mihawk:

Mihawk and Y/N prefer intimate celebrations for Valentine's Day. They often opt for a quiet evening together at their secluded castle, away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. 

Despite their stoic exteriors, Mihawk and Y/N are surprisingly sentimental when it comes to expressing their feelings. They exchange handwritten letters on Valentine's Day, pouring their hearts out on paper in a way that words spoken aloud cannot convey. 

Instead of extravagant gestures, Mihawk and Y/N prefer to exchange gifts that hold sentimental value. Mihawk might gift Y/N a rare book on something she likes, while Y/N might give Mihawk a custom-made piece of simple jewelry like a small bracelet she personally crafted for him. 

On Valentine's Day, Mihawk surprises Y/N by offering to cook dinner together. Despite her lack of culinary skills, Y/N appreciates the bonding activity and enjoys spending quality time with him in the kitchen, even if it results in a few culinary mishaps. 

After dinner, Mihawk and Y/N venture out into the castle's courtyard to stargaze. They lie side by side on a blanket, Y/N pointing out constellations and sharing stories about their significance, reveling in the peaceful solitude of the night, Mihawk just listens to her with a small fond smile. 

Throughout the day, Mihawk and Y/N take time to reflect on their journey together, reminiscing about cherished memories and shared experiences that have strengthened their bond over the years. 

As a romantic gesture, Mihawk and Y/N share a midnight dance in the castle's grand ballroom. Lit only by candlelight, they move together in a graceful waltz, lost in the magic of the moment and the timeless beauty of their love.    Going To Sleep Cuddling: Mihawk and Y/N will go to sleep in the end of the day holding each other, Y/N would curl up into his arms, burying her face into his chest while he wraps his arms around her his hand going into her hair to play with the soft strands.  

As Valentine's Day draws to a close, Mihawk and Y/N exchange a few hushed words as they cuddle, reaffirming their commitment to each other and the promise of a future filled with love, laughter, and endless adventures together. 

Roronoa Zoro:

Despite his tough exterior, Zoro secretly spends weeks planning the perfect Valentine's Day surprise for Y/N. He meticulously selects a secluded spot on the island they're docked on, where they can enjoy each other's company away from the hustle and bustle of the crew. 

Y/N, appreciative of Zoro's efforts, prepares a special gift for him on Valentine's Day. Knowing his love for swords, she surprises him with a beautifully crafted sheath for one of his blades, personalized with intricate designs that reflect their shared journey together. 

Zoro and Y/N spend Valentine's Day evening taking a leisurely stroll along the shores of the island. With the sound of waves lapping against the shore and the moonlight casting a soft glow, they share quiet moments of intimacy, lost in each other's company. 

During their stroll, Zoro and Y/N encounter a group of wild creatures roaming the island. With their swords drawn, they effortlessly dispatch the beasts, their synchronized movements a testament to their unwavering bond as swordsmen and lovers. 

As the night progresses, Zoro and Y/N build a campfire on the beach, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows around them. They share stories of their past adventures and dreams for the future, their laughter mingling with the sound of the ocean. 

Under the starlit sky, Zoro finally opens up to Y/N, expressing his gratitude for her presence in his life. He admits that he's not good at expressing his feelings, but Y/N's unwavering support and love have changed him for the better. 

Moved by Zoro's vulnerability, Y/N wraps her arms around him, offering him comfort and reassurance. She assures him that their love is enough, and she wouldn't have their Valentine's Day any other way. 

As the night comes to an end, Zoro and Y/N make a promise to each other to continue facing life's challenges together, hand in hand. They vow to cherish every moment and celebrate their love not just on Valentine's Day, but every day. 

As they watch the sun rise on the horizon, Zoro leans in to press a gentle kiss to Y/N's lips, sealing their promise with a silent vow of devotion. In that moment, amidst the beauty of the dawn, they find solace in the certainty of their love for each other. 

As they return to the ship, hand in hand, Zoro and Y/N share a knowing smile, their hearts full of love and gratitude for each other. Though their Valentine's Day was unconventional and filled with unexpected adventures, it was a testament to the strength of their bond and the depth of their love. 

Portgas D. Ace:

Y/N wakes up early on Valentine's Day to prepare a special breakfast for Ace. She arranges heart-shaped pancakes and fruit on a tray, leaving a note with a playful message for him to wake up to.  Ace spends weeks leading up to Valentine's Day working on a handmade gift for Y/N. He creates a personalized necklace with a small pendant in the shape of a flame, symbolizing their fiery love and passion. 

Y/N organizes a scavenger hunt around the Moby Dick for Ace. Each clue leads him to a different part of the ship, where he discovers small gifts and love notes hidden by Y/N. 

Ace surprises Y/N with a romantic beach picnic at a secluded cove. They enjoy a delicious meal together as they watch the sunset, the sound of the waves providing a serene backdrop to their intimate celebration. 

As the night falls, Ace and Y/N gather with their friends for a bonfire on the beach. They roast marshmallows, share stories, and cuddle close under a blanket, basking in the warmth of their love and the crackling fire. 

Y/N sets up a telescope on the deck of the Moby Dick, and she and Ace spend the evening stargazing together. They point out constellations, make wishes on shooting stars, and share dreams for their future, Y/N certainly tries to find constellations that match Ace’s freckles.  Ace surprises Y/N with a makeshift dance floor on the deck of the ship. He puts on her favorite song, and they dance together under the moonlight, lost in each other's arms. 

Y/N leaves little love notes for Ace to find throughout the day. Each note expresses her affection and gratitude for having him in her life, reminding him of the depth of her love. 

Ace and Y/N spend the afternoon cooking a special Valentine's Day dinner together in the kitchen. They laugh, tease each other, and steal kisses amidst the preparation, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. (Marco is on standby with a fire extinguisher) 

As the day comes to a close, Ace and Y/N exchange heartfelt declarations of love. They express their gratitude for each other, promising to cherish and support one another for all the days to come, both of them yelling it at the top of their lungs of the railing of the ship and the crew is so done with them lol 

Donquixote Doflamingo:

Doflamingo, despite his intimidating persona, secretly enjoys the sentimentality of Valentine's Day. He's known for surprising Y/N with extravagant gifts, ranging from rare treasures he's acquired during their travels to personalized items he's commissioned just for her. Y/N, in turn, cherishes each gift as a symbol of Doflamingo's affection, even if she's not one for material possessions.  On Valentine's Day, Doflamingo arranges a private, candlelit dinner on the deck of their ship or a secluded spot on the island they're currently exploring. He spares no expense in ensuring the evening is perfect, with gourmet cuisine prepared by their crew's skilled chefs. Y/N appreciates the effort he puts into creating these intimate moments and enjoys the opportunity to spend quality time together away from the chaos of pirate life. 

Instead of focusing solely on lavish gifts and grand gestures, Doflamingo and Y/N often reminisce about their shared adventures and memorable moments throughout the years. They spend Valentine's Day reflecting on the challenges they've overcome together, the laughter they've shared, the tears they’ve shed and the unbreakable bond that has formed between them. 

Despite their often intense and tumultuous journey as pirates, Doflamingo and Y/N also value quiet moments of affection. They may spend Valentine's Day simply enjoying each other's company, whether it's lounging on the deck, stargazing, or taking a leisurely stroll on the beach hand in hand. It's in these peaceful moments that they feel most connected. 

Doflamingo and Y/N have a deep understanding of each other, and Valentine's Day serves as a reminder of the unspoken bond they share. They may not always verbalize their feelings, but their actions speak volumes. Whether it's a knowing glance, a comforting touch, or a gentle smile exchanged between them, they both know that their love is unwavering.

Eustass "Captain" Kid:

Despite her tough exterior, Y/N secretly enjoys the romantic gestures she receives on Valentine's Day. Kid, though he may not admit it openly, takes great pleasure in surprising Y/N with small gifts and tokens of affection, leaving them anonymously for her to find.  Kid's idea of a Valentine's Day gift may not be traditional, but it's always heartfelt. He might present Y/N with a custom-made weapon, intricately designed and tailored to her unique fighting style, or a rare treasure he stumbled upon during their travels, symbolizing the adventures they've shared together. 

Y/N, with her artistic flair, expresses her love for Kid through her creations. She might spend weeks crafting a personalized piece of jewelry for him, incorporating elements of his Jolly Roger or symbols that hold significance to their relationship, showcasing her devotion in a tangible form. 

Amidst the chaos of their pirate life, Y/N and Kid cherish the quiet moments they steal away together on Valentine's Day. They might escape to a secluded spot-on deck, watching the stars and sharing stories, finding solace in each other's company amidst the vastness of the sea. 

For Y/N and Kid, Valentine's Day is not just about romantic gestures, but also about embarking on new adventures together. They might set sail to explore uncharted islands, face formidable foes, or discover hidden treasures, strengthening their bond through shared experiences and thrilling escapades. 

Despite their differences, Y/N and Kid's relationship is built on mutual respect and understanding. They may not always see eye to eye, but they know how to support and uplift each other, especially on Valentine's Day, when they take the time to appreciate the unique qualities that make their bond so special. 

Y/N and Kid's Valentine's Day celebrations may not be conventional, but they're uniquely theirs. They might indulge in a feast of their favorite foods, engage in friendly competitions and challenges, or simply enjoy each other's presence, knowing that their love transcends traditional expectations. 

As they spend Valentine's Day together, Y/N and Kid exchange promises for the future. They may vow to stand by each other through thick and thin, to continue exploring the world and facing its challenges together, and to cherish the love they share, knowing that their bond is unbreakable.

Charlotte Katakuri:

Despite their tough exteriors, Y/N and Katakuri secretly enjoy showering each other with romantic gestures on Valentine's Day. Y/N surprises Katakuri with handcrafted doughnuts with many flavours, each one meticulously made with love and care. In return, Katakuri presents Y/N with a beautifully crafted box of her favorite sweets, a testament to his thoughtfulness and affection. On Valentine's evening, Y/N and Katakuri escape the chaos of Totto Land for a private dinner date on a secluded beach. They indulge in a feast of their favorite dishes, sharing laughter and intimate conversation under the twinkling stars. As the night deepens, they dance together in the moonlight, their hearts beating in perfect harmony. 

In the days leading up to Valentine's Day, Y/N and Katakuri exchange heartfelt love letters, expressing their deepest emotions and gratitude for each other. Y/N's letters are filled with poetic prose and declarations of undying love, while Katakuri's letters are eloquent and sincere, revealing the depths of his affection for Y/N. 

As a special Valentine's Day surprise, Katakuri whisks Y/N away on a romantic getaway to a secluded island paradise. They spend their days exploring pristine beaches, indulging in couples' massages, and savoring gourmet meals prepared by a private chef. It's a blissful escape from their duties and responsibilities, allowing them to focus solely on each other. 

On Valentine's Day, Y/N and Katakuri reminisce about their favorite moments together, flipping through photo albums filled with snapshots of their adventures. They laugh at candid shots of themselves and smile fondly at pictures of special milestones they've shared. It's a heartwarming reminder of the bond they've built and the memories they've created together, a few of them are pictures taken by Y/N of Katakuri throughout the day, in some of them his scarf is hiding a smile or a blush a reason as to why she took the picture (yes she walks around with a Visual Den Den Mushi.. At least that’s what I think the picture taking ones are called)    Y/N has been joining Katakuri during his Meriendas for years now and same as rumors spread about him meditating and talking to gods of battle during them rumors spread about her as well (I read a fic about this before where Y/N was considered his oracle and it’s an amazing one I’m trying to find it again) what they don’t know is that these two are being very sappy idiots, cuddling sharing kisses and laughs and stealing each other's sweets, especially on this day, the others just think that they’re doing some sort of ritual about devotion to Gods of Battle only lol. 

As the night falls on Valentine's Day, Y/N and Katakuri retreat to a secluded hilltop, where they lay beneath a blanket of stars, hand in hand. They share stories of their hopes and dreams, tracing constellations with their fingers and basking in the quiet beauty of the   night sky. It's a moment of perfect serenity, a reminder of the infinite possibilities that lie ahead for their love.

Massacre Soldier Killer:

Despite their tough exteriors, Killer and Y/N secretly enjoy surprising each other with small romantic gestures on Valentine's Day. Y/N might leave a heartfelt note tucked into Killer's pocket, while Killer might craft a makeshift bouquet of flowers from materials he finds on their travels. Valentine's Day is a rare opportunity for Killer and Y/N to spend some quality time together away from the chaos of pirate life. They might steal away to a secluded spot on the ship or find a quiet beach where they can enjoy each other's company without interruptions. 

Killer and Y/N reminisce about their favorite moments together, cherishing the memories they've created during their time as partners in crime. They might exchange stories about their most memorable adventures or laugh about the mishaps they've encountered along the way. 

Despite their limited resources as pirates, Killer and Y/N find creative ways to exchange gifts on Valentine's Day. Y/N might fashion a piece of jewelry from shells she finds on the beach, while Killer might carve a wooden trinket with his expert craftsmanship. 

Killer surprises Y/N with a romantic candlelit dinner, showcasing his culinary skills with a delicious meal cooked from scratch. Y/N, in turn, appreciates the effort and thoughtfulness behind the gesture, and they enjoy a quiet evening together under the stars. While they may not always express their emotions openly, Killer and Y/N show their love and affection for each other in subtle ways. A gentle touch, a lingering glance, or a reassuring smile speaks volumes in the language of their relationship. 

Valentine's Day serves as a reminder of the unbreakable bond between Killer and Y/N. They reaffirm their commitment to each other, promising to stand by each other's side through thick and thin, no matter what challenges may come their way. 

As they bask in the warmth of each other's love on Valentine's Day, Killer and Y/N discuss their hopes and dreams for the future. They envision a life together filled with adventure, laughter, and unwavering support, knowing that as long as they have each other, anything is possible. 

Overall, Valentine's Day is a special occasion for Killer and Y/N to celebrate their love and appreciation for each other, strengthening the bond that binds them together as partners in both love and piracy.

Sir Crocodile:

Crocodile and Y/N aren't ones for grand gestures, so their Valentine's Day celebration tends to be understated. They prefer spending quality time together rather than getting caught up in the commercial aspects of the holiday.  Crocodile surprises Y/N by preparing a simple but delicious meal for them to share. Despite his gruff exterior, Crocodile has a surprisingly deft hand in the kitchen, and Y/N is touched by the effort he puts into making the evening special. 

Instead of extravagant gifts, Crocodile and Y/N exchange meaningful tokens of their affection. Y/N gives Crocodile a handmade leather-bound journal, knowing how much he values knowledge and planning. In return, Crocodile presents Y/N with a rare seashell he found during one of their adventures, a symbol of their shared experiences. 

After dinner, Crocodile and Y/N enjoy a quiet evening together, lounging on the deck of their ship and gazing up at the stars. They talk about their hopes and dreams for the future, reveling in the simplicity of each other's company. 

Despite their tough exteriors, Crocodile and Y/N share a passion for Planning and Conquest. They spend the evening poring over maps and planning their next expedition, excited about the possibilities that lie ahead.  While they may not be overly demonstrative, Crocodile and Y/N show their love for each other in small, subtle ways. A gentle touch, a knowing glance, or a shared smile speaks volumes about the depth of their bond.   As the night draws to a close, Crocodile and Y/N express their gratitude for each other, acknowledging the strength and support they provide in each other's lives. They may not say "I love you" in so many words, but their actions speak louder than any declaration of affection ever could.

Trafalgar Law:

Y/N is bubbling with excitement as Valentine's Day approaches, eager to celebrate the occasion with Law despite his usual reservations about the holiday. She takes the lead in planning the day, organizing a romantic dinner aboard the Polar Tang complete with candles, rose petals, and Law's favorite dishes. Law, although initially hesitant about the festivities, appreciates Y/N's enthusiasm and decides to go along with her plans, wanting to make her happy. He surprises Y/N with small but meaningful gifts throughout the day, such as a locket containing a picture of the two of them together or a handwritten note expressing his love and gratitude. Y/N showers Law with affection, peppering him with kisses and hugs as they spend quality time together, enjoying each other's company in the privacy of their quarters. They share stories and reminisce about their favorite memories together, laughing and smiling as they bask in the warmth of their love. Law surprises Y/N with a heartfelt gesture, such as letting her cuddle with him instead of working or giving her a massage to help her relax and unwind. They exchange promises of love and commitment, reaffirming their bond and promising to stand by each other through thick and thin. As the day comes to a close, Law and Y/N cuddle up together under a blanket, content in each other's arms and grateful for the love they share. 

[megu-meow]

catnaps - gojo satoru

gojo satoru x fem. reader

Summary: Gojo naps with you whenever and wherever he wants.

Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, the Honored One doesn't sleep. There is a lot weighing on the shoulders of the epitome of power in the Jujutsu World that results in restless nights, barely squeezing in short naps throughout the day at random times in random places.

Satoru only rests at his breaking point, when fatigue takes over his body and his eyes unintentionally fall shut. It has been like that ever since he joined Jujutsu Tech and he was deemed eligible to take on missions without any supervision. Despite how it may seem from the outside, Gojo Satoru takes his responsibility as the Strongest very seriously, he knows how much the well-being of others relies on him, so he gives every task and mission all his might. When he's not out doing his job, he works on perfecting his technique for the same reason, draining himself even more. You often wonder how he manages every day like that. Every time you ask him about his fatigued eyes and the dark circles that slowly appear under them, he just shrugs and joyfully tells you how he's the Strongest and doesn't need any sleep.

After a few months of knowing you and developing a tiny, childish crush on you, Gojo Satoru has an interesting revelation after one of the campus hangouts Geto and Shoko secretly organized: he can easily fall asleep around you. Your friend group is sitting in his room, Nanami and Yu sitting on the couch, Shoko and Geto are near the window sharing a cigarette, you and Satoru are on his bed, you sitting with your back against the wall, and Gojo's sprawled out, limbs everywhere with his head in your lap. He's rambling on about Digimon and you try to listen to what he's saying carefully, but you simply don't understand due to the fact that you've never seen the show. Satoru is aware of this, but he can't help how flustered he gets around you, making him talk continuously about stuff no one cares about, especially not someone like you, a gorgeous, intelligent, gentle girl he has a massive crush on. But surprisingly you do, you are interested in anything he has to say, because unbeknownst to him, you find him just as intriguing.

He doesn't realize that his eyes are getting heavy and he falls asleep with his head in your lap, your fingers brushing his unruly, incredibly soft locks of white hair. You smile at the way he looks all calm and comfortable, his breathing even. He wakes up half an hour later at Shoko's laughter, the young healer is laughing at Yu, who decided to rebel and wanted to try smoking for the first time, which resulted in him coughing intensely from the first drag he took. Gojo looks around the room confusedly, his mind still fuzzy with sleep, but his cerulean eyes land on you, a wide smile visible on your pretty face as you enjoy the scene developing in front of you with your beloved friends. Your eyes drift down to the boy lying on your lap and you smile even wider as you realize he woke up from his little nap.

"What did I miss?" he asks cheerfully.

"Nothing, really. You can go back to sleep if you want, Nanami is already passed out on your couch."

"Are you sure, sweet thing? I don't want your legs to fall asleep or be sore tomorrow."

"Don't worry, Satoru. I can handle the Strongest taking a catnap on my lap." you say jokingly and he grins at you, content with your answer. He makes himself even more comfortable and he passes out in mere seconds.

Over time, Gojo begins to value the comfort you provide him more than anything, the mere thought of having you calms his heart and forever running thoughts. His mind is always preoccupied with analyzing his surroundings, residuals, and other techniques. When he's around you, he shuts down, he can be vulnerable and he is simply able to relax. That's why he makes it his mission to ask you out and then make you his girlfriend because he doubts that there's going to be another person that can make him feel like that in his life. You gladly accept, because you would be a fool if you didn't. Gojo Satoru is nothing, but adorable in your eyes, he can be a lot sometimes, but you know that there's no malice behind his unhinged behavior. He's a kind-hearted boy who's carrying a lot of weight on his shoulders, someone who deserves everything good that this world could offer. After the two of you make your relationship official, which is met with utter joy from all of your friends, he continues seeking you out whenever he feels in dire need of sleep.

He finds you in your dorm after a particularly challenging mission and he curls around your body, laying his head on your chest and putting your hand in his hair, demanding that you keep running your fingers around his scalp and between his unruly strands of soft white hair.

He has his first full night of sleep in years between your arms after his unfortunate meeting with Toji Fushiguro.

He cries himself to sleep while you try desperately to calm him down after his "break up" with Geto in front of the KFC in Shinjuku.

He calls you into his office on a random Thursday after a long debate over Okkotsu Yuta's fate with the higher-ups, expecting you to curl up with him on the couch for a quick power nap.

He teleports to you on the training field as you're keeping an eye on his students while sitting cross-legged in the grass. He sits down beside you, laying his head on your lap once again, relishing in the warmth and calmness provided by your body's close proximity.

You don't mind this adorable habit of his, because knowing that he's safe, sound asleep curled into your body provides you with just as much calmness as it does to him. Gojo Satoru deserves every moment of peace he can get and you will always grant him that, even if they only last as much as a little catnap.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

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

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

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

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

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

This morning.

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

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

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was bombarding you so fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She questioned, “Was he angry?” 

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

“And how was it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

But third period had been different. Worse. 

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

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

“Uh, yes, sir-”

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

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

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

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

And everything started crashing down when you heard it.

“Freak’s whore.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

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

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

“Hi.”

“Hi, Chrissy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I broke up with Jason.” She interjected. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only they knew. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

“-and that she wants to marry you.”

“What?!”

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

-

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

Ms. Kelly had suddenly turned into a love coach. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you say you cause most of them?”

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

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

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

“Fun?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How so?” Her eyebrow raised.

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie was desperate to ensure your safety and security. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was going to be okay.

-

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, thanks.” Eddie relaxed. 

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

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

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

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

“Because it gets you your way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Getting okay?” He awkwardly asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the prettiest princess in the land - E.M

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You little-”

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

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

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

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

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

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[illegiblewords]

SOME ILLEGIBLE RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS: THE DEAD THREE

Finished my first/main playthrough of Baldur’s Gate 3, and it’s had me turning over all sorts of ideas tied to Dungeons and Dragons lore. A bunch happens to be about cosmology so I'm slapping together one post about the Dead Three and a follow-up about deities more generally. Buckle up if you decide to proceed dudes. This is chunky and opinion/interpretation heavy. CW for mention (not extensive) of graphic violence and sex crimes during discussion of Bhaal and Yeenoghu.

MYRKUL

I get that there are multiple death-affiliated deities in DnD. Our buddy Jergal is the end of all things and the original incarnation of the concept. Myrkul stands for the experience of dying, decay, necromancy, graves, bones, and the fear of mortality. Kelemvor rules over the dead. Orcus is a demon lord and quasi-deity of undeath. Could prob go on.

I've read many different incarnations of death over the years. To set the stage on my Myrkul read, it bears mentioning that Terry Pratchett's Death is probably my favorite. I don't have it in me to see death as something totally malicious. It's very natural, and I tend to imagine that if there were to be an incarnation embodying it this persona would have an intimate view of all the love and grief, vulnerability and intimacy, ugliness and solitude, etc. that mortals deal with. Death has witnessed the end every living being faces, from the dawn of creation until now. Even if it isn't consciously accessed at all moments, death is ancient and experienced and not likely to be shocked by what mortals are capable of anymore. Mortals are small. Uncountably numerous though we are we are far outnumbered by the unliving. What are lives next to planets, to stars? Here I'd argue against assigning value according to how big or small something is, how eternal or how brief, how simple or complex. Everything that is, is a universe unto itself and deserves the gravity of that. It is also very mundane at the same time. To me, death needs to be able to balance the preciousness and commonality of life, of existence, on the tip of its scythe. Death needs to be able to deal with the most depraved beings to exist, but also with every beloved pet put to sleep. Every lost child or parent. Everyone who dies surrounded by loved ones and everyone who dies alone.

Initially, even knowing Myrkul in particular had been a mortal necromancer and not of particular moral standing--I had mixed feelings about him being the evilest of evil skeletons. He worked it well, but the idea of any aspect of death (or any character tbh) being flat evil felt off to me. Especially with 'we're all the protagonists of our own stories' being at work. People don't often look at what actions they'd consider to be evil then go 'I'm going to make myself that on purpose'. Disregarding morality maybe, but being evil on purpose is weird.

So I looked into further lore about Myrkul. One spot that gave me pause was that Myrkul as death (rather than the adventurer Myrkul Bey al-Kursi he’d once been) revels in inspiring fear of death and driving home experiences of loss. From what I found he isn't focused on the name of the individual holding the office of death, but for the force itself being feared. He can be bribed, and he will allow for necromancy/resurrections--but the fear and gravity of death is a sacred thing to him. Disregarding that is a pretty good way to get onto Myrkul's shitlist. I want to take a moment to emphasize the importance of Myrkul focusing on his portfolio over his own ego. That is far from a given in the DnD pantheon, and like I said he's a former mortal himself. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to be a petty and insecure deity. He could have been the sort of guy where becoming a god of death by itself wasn't enough power. If Myrkul was a different person, he might have wanted people to stroke his ego and say how strong he is. He might have been someone who felt inadequate as a god without that affirmation. He could have (as a character) been unsatisfied and forever wanting/dependent upon the views of others to define himself. The fact that he DOES focus on death and decay as forces rather than himself is a big deal in reading him imo.

Anyway. Myrkul's emphasis on death as something feared got me thinking about what would cause a person to put such weight on death being understood in its negative aspect. It struck me that this is actually a very common and even important thing. You don't need to demonize death to see it, either. If you value life as sacred, the idea of life being treated as cheap or disposable is horrifying. When you love something dearly, the idea of that beloved thing being defaced is beyond outrage. It's a kind of sacrilege. People who kill as casually as breathing, who revel in the permanent destruction of someone else, become a source of horror. The absence of love creates a sort of cruelty that can't even perceive itself. And it's not uncommon for human beings in particular to partake in this. Humans dance on the graves of those they deem enemies not because they're relieved to be safe, but because they glory in the end of other lives. They don't recognize that anything of value was lost. There is no tragedy in death anymore. Every gentle moment, every vulnerability, every tragedy in their opponent's life is something to be crapped on and gloated over. There is no greater insult to life itself. Myrkul stands as a reminder that such behavior cannot stand. You can't treat life or death as cheap. To see something horrific and fail to realize the weight of its horror is itself a form of horror. The idea of a death that demands to be acknowledged for what it is, particularly by the living, imo actually denotes a level of care for life too. It might be harsh or ugly, but I don't know about evil. So while Myrkul is certainly flawed and often serves as an antagonist, I’d argue the function he performs is not only important but necessary.

And while it might vary between players, I found Aylin's enthusiastic executions and body defiling pretty uncomfortable. I understand she went through a lot and am fine with her as a character. But I think Myrkul's point stands if the audience feels even a moment of disquiet seeing her celebrate over the corpse of a broken person.

Some things are meant to be ugly.

BANE

Of the Dead Three I find Bane the most disturbing and dangerous tbh—but not for how Gortash invokes him. Way I see it, the other word for tyranny is authoritarianism on a macro-level, abuse on an individual level.

I’d argue that in life, we can only healthily control ourselves and our own individual actions/choices. We can try to persuade others or appeal to their judgment, but we can’t MAKE another person think or act how we wish. When folks attempt otherwise (individually or more broadly) it involves fear, force, deceit, or other forms of pressure. Coercion, enslavement. These fall under the umbrella of tyrannical practice to me. You treat another person as subhuman and strip them of agency.

We don’t live in a pure and ideal world. If a tyrannical person is committing crimes and denying others their free will through force, I wouldn’t call defense through force tyrannical as long as it wasn’t needlessly excessive. Power struggles exist. But the whole practice of using fear, force, deceit, or pressure to control another person is dangerous imo. They're to be utilized as little as possible.

In DnD I don’t think the fringe evil cults would be the ones most at risk for corruption by Bane. I don't think individuals or groups who prioritize self-indulgence would be most at risk, either. The most dangerous and frequent disciples of Bane imo would be within good alignment. This means followers of benevolent gods as well as the nations or groups that consider themselves to have righteous causes. ESPECIALLY those with chips on their shoulders.

When someone assumes they have and always will have the moral high ground, that they are incapable of committing injustice, that their end justifies whatever means, that it doesn’t count as abuse with the 'correct' target… that, to me, is where tyranny festers. The person convinced of their own moral infallibility is the one who sees no need for brakes and so cuts them without concern.

I’d argue everybody has a seed of tyranny in them that can be fed or starved. We feed that seed with our own indignation to become a tyrant victimizing others while still seeing ourselves as powerless. The person who first victimized you can still also be victimized by you. There isn’t a target that exists where finding joy in cruelty gets a pass.

Bane, I think, thrives on the idea that it's no problem if you're enforcing your will. Especially on people contemptible to you.

For DnD purposes, imagine you have zealous followers of idk Tyr. They are willing to do whatever it takes to enforce and spread their definition of justice. They believe in making examples of people at every opportunity. They torture, isolate, rob, and shame those they consider to be unjust or dangerous. If their victims are falsely accused—well. It’s for a noble purpose so the sacrifice is not in vain. And imagine Tyr abandons these followers as hypocrites. He no longer empowers clerics or paladins no matter how they cite scripture or brand ‘heretics’ with his symbols.

Bane doesn’t enter calling himself Bane, god of tyranny. Bane claims to follow a higher justice. Maybe he uses an avatar, maybe he chooses a Banite disciple, maybe he finds a true believer. But he argues that Tyr as an individual was never ultimately what those zealots stood for—it was justice itself. And if Tyr has turned traitor to his own portfolio, mortals need to go over his head to the core concept and implement that. Bane offers a name that suits his purposes and begins sourcing power to clerics and paladins instead. And throughout, as the zealots commit increased atrocities against those they deem dangerous or evil they fail to realize they’ve spiraled into evil alignment after all. They’d think they were either just as good as they’d always been OR BETTER. The compassion of Ilmater is spent on the depraved and corrupt as far as they’re concerned.

I think the real threat of Bane is that he should be 100% capable of corrupting an otherwise heroic party member if they aren’t wary of that capacity in themself. You suddenly find your friend who listened to your problems and supported you through awful shit mocking a person sobbing on the ground as they kick them. And that friend looks betrayed and hurt (or outraged) if you challenge their actions, because they think you should know exactly how disgusting this piece of shit is and how much they deserve the abuse. And even if you concede that individual case—it’s not the only one. The slights worthy of torment become smaller and smaller. A thought or word out of line betrays the ideology of an evil alignment, with the only solution being to beat thoughts and words out of the target until they can only repeat approved ideas back. And even then, it may not be enough.

If it was explicitly confirmed that the deity the zealot followed was Bane all along, the zealot might genuinely not believe it. They might get pissed at the very suggestion. What they do against the wicked isn’t tyranny after all. They’re righteous.

Denial doesn’t serve to disempower Bane in the least if tactics remain unchanged.

BHAAL

I’m holding off on more detailed Bhaal thoughts until I complete a dark urge run, but I’ve listened to lore on both him and the demon lord Yeenoghu recently—and I think there’s room for a really cool potential contrast.

Yeenoghu Lore

Providing this particular video link for the curious, as a way to help illustrate what I’m drawing from.

Yeenoghu holds the title as demon lord of slaughter. He glories in filth, rape, excessively graphic murder, torture, violence, and playing with corpses along the way. He’s meant to come across as a bestial, self-absorbed, remorseless desecrater. And when I say bestial, I want to draw attention to a particular IRL factoid that might be worth considering.

I love animals to bits. I don’t think animals generally contemplate morality the way humans do just due to cognitive differences and limitations. I also think it’s important to remember that humans are ALSO animals, so certain things umbrella’d under ‘human experience’ would probably apply to at least some animals too. If there are human altruists and human serial killers, we should be able to expect that animals likewise have some altruists and some serial killers within the scope of individual variation.

Cruelty is not exclusive to humans. Orcas will essentially torture smaller animals to death by flinging them into the air with their tails repeatedly like balls until repeated beatings and suffocation kill them. Dolphins commit rape and chew on live puffer fish to get high off the toxins. Chimpanzees are a horror unto themselves with cannibalism and mutilation and basically whatever atrocity they can commit. Wolves and cats sometimes hunt to excess just for the joy of it and don’t eat all they kill. Hannibal the swan (as a specific and notably homicidal individual) beat and drowned any other swans visiting his pond and showed his signet how to do it. I could go on. Some cases it might be a matter of the animal not having theory of mind to recognize that they are inflicting pain on another conscious creature. Other times, like with pissed off chimpanzees, they know EXACTLY what they’re doing and it’s on purpose to cause maximum suffering.

I think Yeenoghu should embody a little bit of both propensities. He’s just utterly self-absorbed and doesn’t give a fuck about the experiences or perspectives of other living things except insofar as they impact him.

Bhaal I want to research more like I said, but one thing I remember from my initial play through was finding a note from the Dark Urge to Orin.

Little sister, whatever in the Gray Wastes are we going to do with you? Bhaal will never care that you waste your time, posing your corpse-dollies. Bhaal doesn’t care whether you give him the corpse of a pauper or a king. At the end of the day, all Father wants is death in droves, death in numbers. To sap away the life of this dull world as swiftly and widely as we can. You plan, you plot, you prevaricate, and you waste his time. Bhaal doesn’t need us to think. He needs us to kill. You kill beautifully, and have talents in your shapes’ magics that I never will. But you do not understand Lord Bhaal. Perhaps it is a failing of your diluted blood, as a mere grandchild. I am his sole living pureblood. I will accept no challenge from you, until you show some damned respect.

To be honest this is interesting af to me because it positions Orin a bit more in-line with Yeenoghu’s modus operandi in some ways. But what sets apart the principles of Bhaal from Yeenoghu or Myrkul?

The Dark Urge suggests the goal of Bhaal is the extinction of all life, but to be honest I’m a bit skeptical. Seems like short term thinking. Even if Bhaal pulled that off, once it’s done there is no more murder or god of murder for that matter. If Bhaal is aiming for a cessation of existence and wants everyone else along for the ride maybe that’s what he’s after, but I dunno. That seems like something fans/players/loremasters would have touched on before.

I’d like to invite this possibility for foiling instead:

Life consumes other life by nature. Animals, plants, fungi, bacteria, so forth—it isn’t just a matter of philosophy. One life cannot exist without destroying another. We need to eat. If we don’t, we die well before reproduction enters the picture. But it’s more than that… you take a step, you kill countless tiny organisms you aren’t even aware of. You swat a fly. You hit something with your car. You move gracelessly or touch carelessly, and catastrophe ensues. Etcetera.

It is inevitable that your existence will mean the end for the life of another living thing. That’s just how it goes.

It could be interesting on a LOT of fronts (both as members of the dead three and as former adventuring companions) if Bhaal acted as a kind of philosophical opposite to Myrkul the way I previously described.

If the Dark Urge’s note is to be trusted, Bhaal has no interest in ritual or glorified death per se. Bhaal would be more about the mundanity that comes through the act of killing. Life is fragile as-is and often ended by accident. Killing in its most common form is thoughtless and unconscious. To Bhaal, if every life is a universe then the universe looks meaningless. There is no importance or fanfare to any of it. If one side is ‘everything matters, give weight to life and death’, Bhaal would be ‘nothing matters, we are not capable of affording reverence to every single life and death we encounter’. More specifically, the mass deaths Bhaal favors would be a kind of illustration of the uncaring and casual relationship living things have with killing other living things. The more casual and effortless it is, the more I’d imagine it serves Bhaal. Sadism and revelry miss the point—there is no hierarchy. Suffering is inconsequential. Fear is inconsequential. Instinct is inconsequential. To live is to kill by Bhaal’s logic.

It isn’t limited to murder in the sense of a member of one species killing a member of the same species. It’s more Bhaal is the god of killing. He’d gain power from murder too sure, but also hunting, harvesting, and butchering. With these interpretations in-mind, we can actually figure out how the Dead Three might have answered Jergal's question about what worth a mortal life holds. With the disclaimer this is very much conjecture. I think Myrkul would likely be "Each life is of infinite value and merits sacrificing everything for." That lends life a heavy weight and makes death a fearful force for all. It would also mesh with Ketheric as his chosen. Bane would lean into "That depends on a person's deeds", "The only life that matters is mine", or "Depends on the mortal". From those positions, the speaker argues for a hierarchy of life where some is more expendable than the rest. It's easier from that position to slide into adopting a role as judge and executioner, and from elevating yourself into a role of authority where other voices and experiences count less than your own. Bhaal I think is reflected in "Life’s only value is as currency. Doesn’t matter to me otherwise", "The only life that matters is mine", or "No one life is worth more than any other. We are equal." Bhaal has the implicit question in-turn: what is the blood-price of your own life? How much have you claimed in your own name to keep moving? It's kind of the belief that while "The only life that matters is mine" is Bhaal's answer, every other living thing should be answering the same way. There's more nuance than that of course, and likely truth falls somewhere in the middle. We aren't mentally capable of giving reverence to every death, but we can recognize in general terms and do our best case-by-case. We have a right to protect ourselves and what we love, but others share that right.

Feel free to offer different stances or thoughts though, and if you made it this far goddamn thank you for reading this monster.

[reficu1]

I mentioned that I will write about mbti without stereotypes, at least I tried.To do this, I used my experience of communication and observation with socionics.

INTJ. This is a stubborn and self-sufficient researcher. I want to note that the image of a VERY smart nerd for INTJ is really a stereotype. Since INTJ have an alpha quadra (this is a value or a mission). And in this value, everyone is jolly guys. But the exception is the strict upbringing of the INTJ. Do an INTJ do something for the soul or out of curiosity, so is it useful or profitable? Or not? INTJ don't ask such questions. Yes, they are inquisitive and expand their horizons. Therefore, this type of personality can often change their hobbies and interests. Also, INTJs do not like competition, as it takes a lot of strength and energy, so they don’t need conflict for the sake of conflict and negative emotions. But they can say what they see to their face. straightness.

INTP. They avoid a lot of emotions, so they use their logic. Therefore, if they need to leave, they will simply say that they have business and INTP will leave. INTPs have a complex relationship with emotions, so they cannot sense or anticipate other people's emotions. Because of this, when INTP plans something, it may not take into account the opinions of other people, so INTP may begin to be considered "selfish". INTP is a critic and a negativist. Usually they will come up with something, even something that is not there, and will worry or hate it.

ENTJ. Straightforward and logical people. But is naive in relationships. Yes, they know their business well or how to get something quickly and easily, but do not understand the psychological impact. Over the course of a lifetime, an ENTJ can collect a large number of templates and use them for a lifetime. So if someone in the ENTJ's social circle behaves differently, it will take them by surprise. But he will try to solve the problem. ENTJ only look at the actions that are directed at them, so if you say one thing but do another, the conclusion will be from the actions.

ENTP. They love to joke immorally. Call someone an idiot. It's all ENTP style. Since people do not like to use pain blocks, and for ENTPs this is the ethics of relationships. They don't like the topic of relationships. Since this makes him plunge into the analysis of their own actions in relation to other people. ENTP see the world through a wide range of ideas and opportunities. Therefore, we live once and do everything that interests us, what if the sign "dangerous" is lying?

ENFJ. Feel the emotions of others very well. Even rather shades of human behavior. They see well the bad that is customary to hide in society. This happens unconsciously when trying to bring a person into conflict and analyze how the other person will act. Therefore, the ENFJ is like a dog in an airport looking for a criminal. ENFJ do not want to judge anyone, but will only say what is necessary to the face. ENFJ believe if you are their friend, then act like a friend, but if you make a mistake, then it is fatal.

INFP. This type is immersed in his inner world and fixated on the present time inside their fantasies. It can be noted that INFPs do not want to take money for their work, especially if it is a hobby. They can easily obstragirovatsya and believe in the best. Freedom is very important to them, but order is needed, as they can quickly relax and lose energy while lying on the couch. Routine work is slavery, so if there is no freedom in life, then there is no INFP in life. Because of this, memes about suicide appeared.

INFJ. The most comfortable. Usually INFJ inspires confidence in other people, as this type of personality finds its own individual approach to everyone, to share revelations. Attuned to changes in interpersonal relationships. Usually INFJ is a mirror, INFJ seem to be trying on someone else's image. Due to global thinking and emphasis on the ethical component, INFJ divide people into groups. Often they try to resolve the conflict quickly or not even start. Therefore, it is easier for them to forget or forgive the person who told them rudeness.

ENFP. Easily maintains friendly relations, especially if it brings a lot of positive and interesting events. But ENFP will not communicate with someone else, as this is a very reasonable type of personality. But on an intuitive level, the ENFP know if this person is theirs or not. Only at close range can one recognize this positive person as a rational person. Thinks ENFP very spontaneously from one thought to another.

ISTJ. They look at the world through his logic, so if you don't like their logic, you can leave. Therefore, the ISTJ is very picky about people so that other people are close to their opinion and logic. The longer the relationship with the ISTJ, then more rules may appear, but it depends on the upbringing. It can be noted that since childhood, ISTJ set its own rules. And in order to bring them back from heaven to earth, others need to throw a tantrum. An ISTJ can become bored in a relationship with a calm person.

ISFJ. They usually want to know more so that nothing bad happens. But at the same time, ESFJs are afraid of the new and the unknown. Therefore, this type is inherently suspicious. Unlike ENTJ, ISFJ draw conclusions from words, not from actions. Trying to change someone. This type of personality is not conflict, but if a quarrel have already occurred, then he will begin to lecture. It is also important for ISFJs to have a plan and understanding of their future. And ISFJs are very loyal friends, and it is difficult for them to part with a person if they have a lot of memories.

ESTJ. They are always ready to meet the problem face to face. A very tense personality type. Because of this, ESTJs can get busy and work hard, which is why they can be called a "robot" and it's normal for ESTJs to forget about their condition. If some kind of chaos is going on around them, then ESTJ is cut off and continues to work. Therefore, at work, the ESTJ do not pretend to work.

ESFJ. They spend a lot of his energy on communication. Who sees what alone and sees who, who is. Able to compare and draw conclusions from this. ESFJ switch between modes, so if they have moved home, it will be difficult to get them outside. Any changes or innovations stress the ESFJ. There is a distinctive feature of the ESFJ "If something helped me, then it will help you too" or "It's delicious, so it will be delicious for you too." And if someone wants to prove that it doesn't work that way, it will be very difficult.

ISFP. Their stereotypical positive attitude has a place to be. An emotion-driven personality type, meaning if an ISFP is in a good mood, they will go out and buy something to please themselves. ISFP will not look at their financial condition, if they have enough money for some kind of purchase, they will take it. ISFPs are masters of emotions, so they can help other people and fix their emotional state for better or worse.

ESFP. The type of people who do first, think later. And if because of this they did something bad, they do not find a place for themselves and there is no forgiveness for themselves. They try to gather everyone and chat everyone. Also, ESFP believe that they should do everything perfectly, and then get praise. Often they believe that they are doing their job better than anyone else, and more often this is self-deception. If you point out that their work is nothing, then congratulations ESFP think you're an idiot. And if ESFPs like you, it shows in the way they listen to you, then talk about themselves, even admitting their shortcomings.

ISTP. Bring in the soul, but not in words. Therefore, ISTP will not say something beautiful and poetic, but this type of person tries to do and show his feelings by this. They put their soul and feelings into their actions. ISTP see problems and do not idealize others. If you don't like something, you say it straight to your face. It can also be noted that ISTPs have a "creative" clutter that they don't notice. But in chaos, they always find everything they need, but if they get tired of this dump, they can take it apart. A very picky personality type, as convenience is important to them.

ESTP. When they want something, they always try to achieve it through participation in all events and ESTP take responsibility for the "parties". ESTP can always make logical arguments in their favor. And if ESTP don't get what they want because of some other person, then that other person may look stupid, because ESTP's arguments are ironclad. Can often tell others what to do so that the result is faster and better. But this is not out of malice, and if his actions lead to hatred towards the ESTP, it can drive them into a corner and lower their social activity.

[uh-mxtx]

Modern MDZS au where WWX gets in a debate with college professor LQR about LGBTQA+ stuff, probably bc WWX is “corrupting” LWJ with the gay agenda. And stealing all of LWJ’s turtlenecks, for some odd reason! The boy clearly can’t take care of his own clothes, they’re all tattered and his hair is a birds nest.

Anyways, LWR is going on about how the homos are lecherous filth that have fallen to temptation or smth while covering up their transgressions by naming themselves odd things. Really, LQR asks, “what even is a pan-sexual?” (Or some other such thing that shows he doesn’t actually know anything anout being queer)

“Oh, you don’t know?” WWX asks, eyes wide and innocent and CLEARLY up to Some Shit. “Professor Lan, Professor Lan, Professor ‘show your sources do your research’ LAN. Do you not know what we’re debating about?”

LQR huffs and starts saying something about family values and continuing on bloodlines, but WWX is grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“Professor, have you ever actually researched this? Or are you just wasting my time?” (An actual LQR quote from earlier in the semester)

LQR puffs up, and he’s all “of course I haven’t-“

“Well then, Sir,” WWX interrupts, manic joy written all over his expression, “may I just say that you have the audacity of a white man insisting that Mandarin is just a type of orange.”

The bell rings before LQR can get a word in, and WWX grabs his bag and books it to the door.

“I’ll send you some reading, Professor Lan! Let’s do this again when you know what you’re talking about!”

And with that he’s gone.

Now, WWX is only a little bit of a hypocrite, bc he definitely thought he was straight and only just managed his Revelation of “oh heck Lan Zhan is so pretty he turned me gay?” *research montage bc he actually has resources (and NHS definitely helped.) “Oh maybe girls are just pretty and I’m demisexual.”

However, the fact that he only JUST did this, means his ADHD self still has all the tabs open. And, like, he did say he’d send stuff, and this is Lan Zhan’s uncle. So, he compiles a helpful list of sites and articles, includes a link to a place where you can ask questions to the Queer Council, and sends it off.

LQR is initially going to ignore it, but then his scholar brain gets the better of him. WWX had made a point, he was woefully unprepared, and so with the intention of finding points to throw in that little brat’s face, he braces himself for horrible outlandish untraditional family-breaking nastiness, plus whatever else WWX might have put in there (ancestors if that horrid boy sent him PORN he’ll have him expelled) and opens the links.

He finds a bunch of actual helpful websites.

Definitions for all the names, labels, flags. Helpful tips for understanding yourself. Pictures of couples holding hands, smiling happily.

“Love isn’t just for procreation.”

Resources for kids who’s parents kicked them out. Survival tips. Unsafe areas.

And, because I’m personally a big fan of Demisexual WWX, a whole bunch of websites on the Asexual spectrum. You know, where people say, “oh yeah, apparently other people actually DO feel that urge to have sex with people. The songs aren’t making stuff up y’all. We’re just built different.”

LQR: nani tf?

Thus begins a confused deep dive into asexuality, what it means, allosexuals and all that jazz. LQR actually does end up asking a question on one of the sites, something like:

“I always believed that people who allowed themselves to be lustful and fall into bed with others were simply unrestrained. Is it true that some people feel an actual need for this? I have felt attraction for a woman before, but I never felt the need that some popular media attests to.”

There’s a bunch of replies, but one sticks out to LQR:

“Gonna be crude for a sec, excuse me- did you actually want to bang her? Or were you friends and heteronormative society insisted that boys and girls gotta want to fuck?”

LQR, who as a young man looked at CSSR and thought “If I have to marry, I wouldn’t mind her”: 🤯🤯🤯

Oh no.

He has to face that smirking little brat WWX.

[stumpfest-2024]

Polyamory is work, as are all relationships and I’m trying to find my way, as comfortably as possible, through it. I know I have the capacity for loving more than a single individual, I have compersion for my partner in their relationships outside of ours, and I believe my growth and happiness works best in a setting with a community or polycule of people in a loving and understanding way.

I face severe anxiety, depression, fears of abandonment, need for reassurance, and general upkeep as I’ve grown up under duress most of my life. In my life I’ve found a consistent hinderance of abandonment as acted upon by some of my previous partner’s. This did not occur in all my relationships but it happened in ways and with people that affected my development and understanding of relationships. As well the concerted effort by me for polyamory in the relationships, where it was understood as an opportunity, that were treated in a toxic and discouraging way. Thus my fractured view of, expectations for, and feelings within my polyamorous relationship have been rocky and unsettled by a common part of it.

This is not a responsibility that my partner or metamours should have to burden and is an opportunity for me to learn and develop. It’s a time for me to be able to address the issues within myself, the collection of insecurities and their cohorts. Not only to develop stronger, better, healthier existence within my polyamorous relationships, but also in my own personal and individual growth.

I’ve lived with these anguishes for a very long time, understanding the pattern and accepting that these moments and upheavals were not necessarily my own fault. But also not taking the time to work on myself, to better treat myself with the grace and the love that I deserve versus the contempt and self-loathing I’ve existed in for years.

I’m not proud to say it took me 32 years to finally go to therapy, I should have gone decades ago. I have unresolved romantic issues, deep seated agony towards my abusive upbringing, and general anxiety and disdain for my own self. But, I feel like it is important to give yourself the opportunity to find peace with yourself, even if it takes a strong wind to push you to these safer shores.

So here’s to a tremendously huge chapter of my life that I hope brings me revelations of strengths and weaknesses. Allows me to express myself without fear of dissolution of relationships or friendships. And creates a healthier me in my brain and within my heart that sees the value I bring within this cosmos.

[vasito-de-leche]

also, also —

I wrote out so many quotes 'cause your language is beautiful and you manipulate it to express complicated figures with simple words so easily is breathtaking. SO I took many quotes and one seriously got on my mind

"would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you?" I feel like I'd need you elaborate on that one. The thought looks curious as an idea for a situation but at the same time I understand how easily forgiving reader would be borderline ignoring severance of the situation(maybe??? Im still not sure how this works since we got fans already knowing he unalives ppl easily in the first place + the whole setting does collocate with high death rate so...) and on the other hand, abandoning him is just gameover. So I thought the closest to actually getting through this situation without being too unrealistic would be two options

First one is probably classical "y/n already knew it before and them getting close to FMN was with that fact taken into account" and the second one is (mourning the loss of life then) turning to him to adress the issue and try to figure some other ways to "win" without killing anybody(paralyze potion??? More mind games? idk). As if it's _our_ problem and not just his. tldr: jokes on him we are not getting off of that ship.

sorry for this getting too big. you've awakened a dog and it's rabid

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS, I LOVE LOVE LOVE DISCUSSING THINGS IN-DEPTH WITH PEOPLE! this is us right now, we're sitting and talking about FMN's unstable mental health together and we're holding hands and we're having fun

when I wrote that oneshot, I wanted to keep everything as vague as possible when it came to the reader - this includes their involvement with FMN's and how they tackle the ticking bomb that is his personality and moral compass!

the only thing regarding the reader that I wanted to come across is that the reader cares about him to some degree - the depths of those feelings are pretty much up to you and how you feel about FMN

the SECOND thing I wanted to come across is the fact that FMN lives in his own head, so everything HE perceives about the reader is either projection or wishful thinking, like. you CANNOT take him at face value because everything he thinks and says is a contradiction. he's obsessed with you but both denies it and revels in it, he spends so much time observing you but also misses INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS things about you. he loves you and he hates you. etc etc.

so when FMN starts thinking all that shit about how would you react if he were to kill someone in front of you, that's all intrusive thoughts. they make no sense and are fueled by impulse and things he doesn't actually want to engage in (but might, just because he's one hair away from constantly ruining his own life in one way or another, FMN is self-destructive above all else)

the message underneath is that he simply just wants to keep being awful and irredeemable because he wants to show you that he's ugly inside and outside because he's STILL pretending to be a smooth and very hinged person. it wasn't meant to establish that the reader NEVER saw him kill or commit any other atrocities, or that they're willingly blind or anything else - again, those aspects are left vague for whoever reads this to fill in the blanks AND FMN cannot be trusted in here, especially when reading his POV

ultimately, I can't start elaborating on how the reader would react if they saw FMN kill people fireworks style after this oneshot - because YOU are the reader, I don't control your thoughts or perception. in this oneshot, the character of the "reader" lacks any sort of backstory, motivations, or any solid info to even start thinking if they'd forgive FMN or abandon him or whatever, if that makes sense. I didn't establish if they're an arcanist or human, if they're mixed or infected, if they're willingly siding with Manus or are blind to FMN's affiliations with them, etc. it's all up to you in the end! you get to pick how you'd react in the aftermath!

if we were talking about more specifics like, "how about a reader who rejects the foundation and believes in manus?" or "can you write about a human reader caught up in the crossfire?". those things I can deffo work with because there's context for me to start from

hope this made sense, and ty for the asks!! always a treat to see more FMN fans <3

[deepseawarlock]

Unrequited Love || Ulysses & Delia @iincantatorum

Ulysses knew that it was important to address the growing feelings Delia had developed for him. He valued their friendship and the bond they had formed, but he also recognized the need for honesty and clarity. With a heavy heart, he decided it was time to have an open conversation with Delia.

One evening, as they sat together in Ulysses' study, surrounded by ancient tomes and flickering candlelight, he took a deep breath and turned to face her. His voice was gentle yet resolute, his eyes filled with sincerity.

"Delia, there's something we need to talk about," Ulysses began, his tone laced with empathy. "I've noticed the depth of your feelings towards me, and I want you to know how much I value our friendship and the connection we share."

He paused for a moment, searching for the right words to convey his emotions. "However, I must be honest with you. My heart doesn't carry the same romantic affection for you. As much as it pains me to say this, I cannot reciprocate the depth of love you feel."

Ulysses reached out, gently taking Delia's hand in his, his touch filled with both tenderness and regret. "You are a remarkable being, Delia, and I cherish our bond. But love is a complex emotion, one that cannot be forced or manufactured. It's something that arises naturally and cannot be controlled."

He continued, his voice soft yet firm. "I want to be fair to both of us. It wouldn't be right for me to lead you on or give you false hope. You deserve someone who can love you wholeheartedly, and I am not that person. I want nothing more than to preserve our friendship and ensure that you find happiness in a way that is true to your own desires."

Ulysses held Delia's gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of compassion and regret. "Please understand, Delia. My feelings, or lack thereof, are not a reflection of your worth or the depth of our connection. I care for you deeply, but as a friend and ally."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance. "I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for not being able to offer you the love you seek. Our friendship means the world to me, and I want it to remain strong, even if it means navigating this difficult truth."

Ulysses awaited Delia's response, his heart heavy with the weight of his words, hoping that their bond could withstand this revelation and that they could continue to support each other on their respective paths.

Delia listened attentively to Ulysses' words, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. As he finished speaking, a profound sadness washed over her, and tears welled up in her eyes. She took a moment to gather her thoughts and compose herself before responding.

With a trembling voice, Delia spoke, her words carrying a mixture of vulnerability and understanding. "Ulysses, I... I appreciate your honesty and the sincerity with which you've shared your feelings. It pains me to hear that our hearts are not aligned in the way I had hoped."

She wiped away a tear that rolled down her cheek before continuing, her voice filled with a bittersweet acceptance. "I've come to cherish our friendship deeply, and I understand that love cannot be forced or coerced. It's a fragile and delicate thing that blooms naturally, and I cannot fault you for not feeling the same way."

Delia took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Ulysses' with a mixture of sadness and gratitude. "Please know that I do not blame you for your lack of romantic affection towards me. My heart may have yearned for something more, but I value our bond and the connection we share too much to let it wither away."

She reached out and gently clasped Ulysses' hand, seeking solace and reassurance in their touch. "I don't want to lose what we have, Ulysses. I believe our friendship is worth preserving, even if it means navigating these unrequited feelings. I will do my best to move forward and find happiness in other aspects of my life, while cherishing the special connection we share."

Delia's voice quivered with a mix of sadness and determination. "Please, let us continue to support and uplift each other as we have done so far. I will strive to accept this truth and cherish the bond we have, even if it means letting go of my romantic hopes."

Tears continued to stream down Delia's cheeks, but a flicker of resilience shone in her eyes. "Thank you for your honesty, Ulysses. It takes courage to speak your truth, even when it may cause pain. I am grateful for our friendship, and I believe it can weather this storm."

With those words, Delia released Ulysses' hand and took a moment to collect herself. She offered him a tender smile, a mixture of sadness and acceptance. Their bond had been tested, but she was determined to preserve it, even if it meant navigating the complexities of unrequited love.

[upstartcrow1564]

I swear I shuffle the deck a lot before drawing a card each morning, I promise! But here we have The Outlaw again, reminding us to pause, slow down, focus on where we are and what we’re doing, and if we feel called to stop whatever it is, then STOP. Wait. Breathe and just be in the moment with whatever it is you need to be with. Listen and wait. Relax. There’s a definite “Smoke ‘em if ye got ‘em” vibe here, so take advantage of it while you can. We don’t know what’s coming next — see the red oval on the right side of the card, just below the red die? Well, that’s the blank rune from pretty much every set of Elder Futhark runes available. There’s great discussion about what the blank rune means, if anything, but I prefer to take it at face value, as Odin telling me it’s none of my business right now, that I’ll know what’s coming next when it comes. My job, our job, right now is to focus on our work, to do the best we can with what we have, to be the grownups in the room — or at least to ACT like the grownups in the room even if we don’t particularly feel like it — and to wait for just a little longer. [Image shows #12 The Outlaw: Sacrifice and Redemption card from the Spirit Keeper’s Tarot Deck Revelation Edition - a figure is suspended upside down by the left foot from an Ankh, in between two ornately carved pillars; golden light flows from a Merkaba in front of the figure’s right eye, while a snake wraps around the figure’s left leg; a butterfly emerges from its chrysalis - the Norse rune Ansuz, the Red Die rolled to 5, the Blank Rune charm, the Leo charm, the Paper Clip charm, the Beer Bottle charm, and the Pregnant Person milagro.] #tarot #oracle #runes #charms #vitki #volva #disir #ancestress #seer #tarotreading #tarotreadersofinstagram #tarotcards #dailytarot #tarotadvice #divinarion #divinersofinstagram #charmcasting #SpiritKeepersTarotRevelation #TheMusesDarling #witchesofinstagram #WaitWaitWait https://www.instagram.com/p/CgPZREwLclH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[incognito-diary]

My bestie can read me like a book, so I was worried especially with the strength of my feelings that he was going to figure it out.

For a while there I was certain he did know and was silently signaling me not to bring it up because no good can come out of that. Reflecting on it now I think this was a kind of projection. My bestie is the very emotionally intelligent and I think this was my mind’s way of signaling the wisest way to deal with this at a time where I was still very lost for what to do.

But weeks went by since the revelation smacked me in the face, and he keeps saying little things that tell me he both doesn’t feel this way and isn’t aware that I feel this way. Moments where a character from our adolescence gets brought up and we linger on how I wanted to kiss that character and he wanted to be that character. Moments where I talk about moving to his city, or how single I am, and he says he knows the love of my life is in his city for sure. I am certain he is not the kind of person to give clear signals like that while in a relationship. They also aren’t paired with things that indicate a desire or attraction to me or my traits, which would be present in the unfiltered way we talk. He also doesn’t offer information about his sex life or preferences outside of contexts comparing it to the gay men scene at large. He’ll support me when I’m feeling anxious about what’s normal, and use his experience as an anecdote, but the large majority of the time it’s not “this thing really gets me going”.

Additionally, he is the kind of person to talk things out, and he’s good at it. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to let me dangle in this place and I think would give me the space to air out my feelings and to let me down easy. Which I would be fine with. My friendship with him is the most important.

Him not noticing was a relief to realize. If he hasn’t by now he probably won’t as long as I keep myself in check and don’t do anything boundary crossing or weird. It stung in a distant way, maybe, to understand he might not think of me as attractive to him at all but 95% of the feeling was that I am not feeling bad. I can take this and recover. I can get over this hill and put the uneven feelings behind me. Eventually.

There were a couple days there where I wasn’t feeling much if any romantic attachment. I didn’t feel like imagining a future where our lives were intertangled in the way a couple’s lives are, and it didn’t stir my heart to think about how well we would work together that way. I really thought I was on the road back to normal. Silly.

Now he’s doing things all the time that make me fall for him more. He’s so gentle with me when I’m in a bad place, even when I am struggling with basic easy tasks. He just walks me through it in exactly the way I need and celebrates when it’s done. I’ve never met anyone like that before. I’ve never had someone meet me where I am like that. I don’t know if I’m capable of that myself. It’s a gentleness and compassion that I am so enamored with resting under reasoned cynicism. How is he so emotionally intelligent and smart and artistic and kind and strong and comfortable with himself… to find a flaw is to nitpick a masterpiece. Sure, I suppose you can do it if you really put your mind to the task, but any flaw to be found is nothing in the grand scheme of this compelling and beautiful picture.

I’m in it so deep.

I know these feelings come and go in waves but this doesn’t feel like something that is going to resolve any time soon. The only thing I can do is wait and see what happens. It would be immoral and manipulative and disrespectful to him and his current relationship to let him know how I feel. Even if he were to break it off with his fiancé and date me instead, this is not a good foundation for a romantic relationship. I really value the experience of coming to understand these feelings on my own terms and if he is going to return those feelings then I prefer him to have a similar revelation. It’s so much easier to invest in organic romance working out in the long run than feelings that might develop only in a reactionary context.

I don’t know if I’m explaining it well but it makes sense in my head.

[mitigatingacademics]

{10.08.23}

Productivity:

LSAT Trainer: Lesson 27

Focus was not good tonight*, I'm not a huge fan of the Trainer's approach to Logic Games, and this took way longer than previous lessons...so we moved right on along to other things.

Reading:

Finished Law Man: Memories of a Jailhouse Lawyer (🎉)

Review/Notes to follow.

How to be Sort of Happy in Law School -- Finished Section 2

I seem to be enjoying this more now that I'm reading it for what it is rather than what I hoped or expected it to be.

*The reason my focus was worse tonight than the past 3 nights is because I have much better access to social media in the accounting office than at the baggage desk.

It's not rocket science. I allowed Twitter to be a distraction.

In many ways I found the range of hot takes on the Israel situation almost impossible to look away from.

Spouted with equal confidence from those whose resumes include experience of foreign policy advising to the federal government to those Fox News informed individuals who couldn't find the areas in question on a map if their lives depended on it.

One that sticks with me is the medical doctor (sir, no one needs your opinion on this issue) who described the statement of an apparently Palestinian U.S. Congress woman as 'disgraceful' because she suggested that killing of all civilians, regardless of affiliation, is tragic.

How is that disgraceful?! 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

It seems somewhat distasteful to call others out for nothing more than failing to condemn to death those you personally have decided are in the wrong even if they just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, does it not?

Do no harm?

Yikes, dude.

Then there was this...

...which got me more riled up than I'd like to admit.

Liz never told anyone that she's anything other than exactly what she is.

These kind of 'gotcha' posts directed at liberals (this guy's base!) whom they refer to as 'Liz stans' are a perfect example of why people like me (I used to self identify as a Socialist, ffs) no longer feel completely comfortable thinking of themselves as part of the Left.

Why would you do this? What are you getting out of it?

How does shaming the folks likely to vote the way you hope people will vote actually benefit you?

Some people do manage to be surprised by unhidden reality.

I remember seeing a comment on one of Liz's Tweets, way back when she was still campaigning, from someone that 'found out about her' and wished she hadn't donated to her.

Like...do you just throw money at people that say one thing you agree with without looking any further into it? ...and if that's the case, is that not your own fault? 🤦🏻‍♀️

I say this as a registered Democrat of over 20 years that also donated to Liz, knowing that she has many questionable inclinations.

The difference is, I had a complete understanding of what I was doing...and wouldn't have complained publicly if I'd had regrets.

It's no one else's responsibility to make you consider what is right in front of your face.

I mean...

🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

You don't get to come for Liz for being exactly what she told you (repeatedly) that she is.

That said, you can also educate people without shaming them.

(This is especially true if you're hoping not to alienate said folks.)

I also find this Tweet offensive in how it seems to imply that the "revelation" being referred to requires a specific response.

Like, "Oh no, she's demonstrating the values she always claimed to have...guess I'll have to stop supporting her now!"

"There could be no other possible reason for continuing to support a person with **insert controversial pov.** ...would be incongruent with liberal thought." 🤨😑 🙄

This is how liberal influencers push folks away.

I don't need you to think for me, friend.

👑 is problematic as fuck. I ❤️ her anyway.

I also still vote blue on most issues.

Stop working so hard to piss me off. 😂

[drybones37]

How I understand things - a ramble

Hello, person. It seemed appropriate to me to write something about how I understand life, its purpose, and our reasons for existence. Not to say that you need to think like me, but I guess to share so you know where I’m coming from. Take what you like and throw away what you don’t, but I hope that some of this helps you.

I wasn’t sure why I was here at first, or what my purpose was, but after living for a while I discovered a man’s teachings unlike any other through a Youtube Channel. I tried to implement those teachings in my life as best I could, and came to see them as true. These teachings I am refering to are the ones that come from Jesus in the bible. I saw that what he taught was ignored by churches and people of all different backgrounds, and after implementing them in my life I started to see the reason for Jesus’ teachings.

Jesus teaches that if you want to follow him we must forsake all that we own, for example, and at first I just didn’t understand why. WHY did I need to give up all I own? Why did I need to stop working for money, like he said to do in Matthew 6? What good would it do?

Now I see though that Jesus didn’t come to tell us to do meaningless or purposeless rules as a shit test in life like most people think God does. “Eat this cracker”, “Drink this juice”, “Pay tithes to the church”, etc. That isn’t what Jesus taught and isn’t the type of meaningless stuff that he wants us to do.

He came to build something called the kingdom of heaven. This isn’t some kingdom in the clouds where we recline on white fluff while babyfaced angels feed us grapes and play harps, this is a government that he came to build here on earth. One that anyone can help build and that requires human effort and cooperation to bring about.

I believe that it’s our purpose as humans to bring about that kingdom. And, only when necessary will God ever step in to help. I believe he’s mainly leaving it up to us to build it, so we can learn and develop ourselves.

For now he’s in the recruiting stages of his kingdom, where he’s seeing who puts their trust in him, in the truth, and in love and justice, and lives for those values regardless of if those around them do or not. You don’t want your kingdom full of cowards, whimps, and liars, and so in some sense I do believe this life is a test, but one that isn’t a waste of time. We’ll be able to keep whatever we learn here. Whatever skills we develop we’ll take with us when we’re resurrected.

I can’t say I know for sure exactly what happens after that but I do know that for 1,000 years 140,000 followers of his will help him rule the earth due to what it says in the book of Revelation. I think during this time we’ll be able to have a fresh start and be given the ability to literally bring “heaven” to earth. That being said, I also believe that if we humans get our act together now we could bring heaven to earth now rather than later. The problem is we face opposition.

The shortsighted, the greedy, the envious, and our own wants and desires prevent us from striving to build this kingdom that will last forever. The men and women who want to bring about this world of peace where no one lacks and everyone has what they need, are confronted by those who want more than their fair-share. Most people in the world today fall in that category, and if we’re not careful even we ourselves fall into that category at times. That’s I think why we need to forsake all we own. To give away our possessions and lay all our hopes and dreams on the alter. God asked that much of his first follower, Abraham, and he doesn’t ask any less of us.

If we can muster up the faith and courage to act on God’s will, then doing so will allow us to successfully bring about heaven on earth, even if it’s just a little section of it. Otherwise we may find ourselves fighting against the very kingdom of God.

Are you interested in building God’s kingdom? It’s not one that can be observed but rather one that resides in the hearts of men and comes about through love, truth, and justice. If you want to build that kingdom then I recommend that you read through Jesus teachings. A place to get started reading is Matthew chapter 5, 6, and 7.

Building God’s kingdom will take a life time, constant openness to God’s voice, a humble and contrite heart, and a desire to do what right even if it doesn’t benefit ourselves. Do you feel that God is calling you to to be part of such a kingdom, his kingdom?

[softersinned-arc]

@valiantsword said: ❝ i’m not saying anything you haven’t thought. ❞

Perhaps the point is that it should remain unsaid—but she has always had a knack for choosing her battles. "It should be manageable," she murmurs, and she leans forward to read over his shoulder, arm slung across his chest as she kneels on the bed behind him. And, despite having decided seconds ago not to argue with him, she gives herself leave for a little bit of sarcasm, adding, "Even with minimal resurrection, if we play our cards right."

As if in apology for her inability to let it go, Astoria presses a kiss first to his cheek, then to his bare shoulder, before she unwinds herself from around him. "Talked to Des today. He's pretty tight-lipped about your—coworkers?" Is there a more appropriate term to use for immortal band of mercenaries and freedom fighters? "But he said something about a, uh, vineyard-owning ex-nun with an armory. Please tell me I didn't mishear him." She stretches out beside him, and she gently swats his fingers away from the keyboard before she closes the laptop. "I really hope you're friends with an ex-nun with an armory."

Her fingers move to trace idle patterns along the back of his hand, and when Astoria shifts her gaze to his face, he's wearing a smile that, from this angle at least, looks amused, even endeared. In response she wraps her fingers around his wrist and tugs lightly, though Arthur is solid and steady as always; he is a man who has learned the value of patience and he applies it now, unyielding until she lets out an annoyed huff of breath and releases him. His hand settles then on her thigh, thumb stroking absentminded lines just below the fabric of her underwear.

"You heard right," he says finally. "She owns a vineyard in France."

"With an armory?"

"She has a—special interest in weaponry. And a collection to match."

"When was she a nun last?"

"Near seven hundred years ago."

"Fuck." She grins, settles comfortably against the duvet, reveling in the warmth of his hand on her skin, the gentle scratch of his calloused fingers. "You know, you meet the most interesting people."

"Mm. Had a lot of time to do that."

She wonders how he'll describe her in a century or two, if he'll remember her at all.

She tries not to think about it. Just like she tries not to think about the fact that of the two of them, he's the only one who can definitely take a shot and get back up. Just like she tries not to think about the breathless moments of overwhelming fear when she's not sure if he'll get back up again.

"I don't want you playing human shield," she says quietly, and Arthur's smile fades, not with anger but with exhaustion. So much for choosing her battles. "I know you have this need to keep everybody safe no matter the personal cost to you, I know that you're going to be able to get back up, but I don't care. If someone else is coming along, let them do the dying for once. Shit, let me get banged up. I can take it. So for the record, what I was thinking and not saying was that yeah, you can take it, but I don't want you to. If we're doing something this stupid for me and for my goals, then yeah, you can be the hero, but I'd rather you weren't. Just for the record."

His thumb slows and Astoria sits up, surges forward to kiss him; he meets her halfway, hungry, wanting. She doesn't resist when Arthur gathers her closer, lifts her to settle her into his lap, and he doesn't argue when she shoves lightly at his shoulder until he falls back onto the bed and she can bow her head to scrape her teeth along his throat.

She's not sure who's really distracting who. He won't stop being who he is, and she won't stop asking him to let someone else take the pain for a change, and they'll have the first half of this conversation again in a week, a month, a year, and neither of them will know what to say to convince the other. They'll still try, and they'll still fall into this, heady distractions and hunger and need, when they find they've run out of words. She reaches around to pull his hair free, fingers careful before they tangle there, and he fits a hand against her side, the gentlest pressure from his fingers enough to roll her onto her back.

For now—in the familiar, in the known—they're both safe, made closer to whole by each other. For now, it's enough.

[nexuschampion]

I have been thinking about that animation all night my lady and there is SO MUCH hilarity that can stem from it I woke up giggling.

Like imagine Mikey is just so tickled by this idea that the teasing is a little bit relentless for a bit, Shadow is still THOROUGHLY in denial. Drawing the hard line.

“Absolutely not, I love you for your personality and your humor and your wit and I love when you show off and you’re so strong, you make me laugh…”

Which backfires because now Mikey can tease her and get rewarded with compliments and Shadow can’t seem to figure out that rewarding bad behavior is not, in fact, going to make him stop

Until finally she’s like OK BET

PROVE IT

You know magic people. Find one of your magic people and illusion a HumanSona for yourself for like five minutes. I will bet anything you want that I will be equally as attracted to a Human Mikey as I am to who you are naturally.

He hadn’t really thought of that before because anytime he’d ever thought of trying to magic himself into a human it was always looking at the question more permanently but yeah, he probably could get a buddy to Illusion Him a human look for 10 minutes or something. That seems feasible.

So they do. He gets to look, outwardly, human for like 5-10 mins. And it’s pretty incredible, actually. It’s definitely still him. The eyes and the smile and even his build is all the same. Mikey’s impressed when he looks in a mirror. It’s not like some skinny business man or something, so there’s no arguing “no no that’s not you, obviously I’m not going to fall in love with some stranger’s face just because you’re on the inside.” It’s definitely him.

Shadow takes off the blindfold.

It IS shocking at first, so he doesn’t take the surprise at face value. He gives her a minute to circle him with her hand on her chin before he starts hamming it up, being Mr. Personality and all that. And to her credit, she does a very good job of sticking with her Curious Face for as long as she can. But eventually she cracks. It only takes like 3 minutes, in spite of her best efforts, and Mikey has never been more gleeful to be proven right.

There is only like 50% chemistry between them when he has a human face on. She still laughs at his jokes and looks at him with plenty of affection but He Can Tell. This does not do it for her. He gets to spend the rest of his Human Illusion Time teasing and trying to make a move on his wife, totally overjoyed as she squirms uncomfortably and tries very hard to figure out wtf is going on in her brain that makes this so weird and uncomfy. It isn’t until Human Illusion Time runs out and the Visual Only disguise fades away that she can finally admit out loud that maybe there was the tiniest chance that he was slightly less attractive as a human.

And she will Never, Ever live that down for the rest of their lives lmfao.

//mmmmhmmmm

and then he'd been so careful to not present their relationship to the world as a physical one so she didn't incur negative judgment over it. He thinks it's so cute that she's so determined to convince the world that he's just a normal guy and should be treated as such when he very clearly is not a normal guy. He doesn't have a dog in the fight because he's confident and generally wins people over and he doesn't NEED to be a part of society, but her, his sweet wife, DOES need for people to accept and respect him. he loves that about her so, so much but this interesting revelation gave him new perspective.

His wifey is subconciously fighting for his acceptance because SHE is truthfully, in fact, literally attracted to him. She wants the world to see him a certain way so she can feel normal about being attracted to him. And he's been trying to shield her from being labeled as something she actually was.

That changes things. A lot. He doesn't need to hide the physical part of their relationship because she is in fact, a legitimate monster fucker and why on earth would she not just embrace it in front of the world?

Because she wanted him to be seen as normal and if she admits that she was the one trying meet a standard (he knows he's not human or normal and he's not trying to be or care to be) then he'd never be accepted as normal.

But now, now.....he, with her permission of course, would love to show ALL the PDA in front of all the cameras. He would much rather the world look him and shudder in disgust, then see the way she looked at him and go 'awww, good for them,' than for everyone to look them and think "yup, that checks out'.

He was different and special. So was she. They had something very special together. If she wanted to normalize anything, why not let the world see that maybe being a monster fucker wasn't really that wierd. Normalize the love they have. He was a very rare exception but he still deserved to be loved and it took a very exceptional human to do that.

And ultimately, he loves this because he always assumed she was looking past what he was and there was always the fear that a human would have an edge. He considered being a freak to be the one solid negative thing between them and then he learns that oh, this thing between them wouldn't be nearly as strong and good if he was human.

He would viscerally FEEL her non-attraction to him as a human (and it wasn't because he made an ugly human by any standard, he knew he looked good) and it would make him SO happy.

He is just overflowing with love because now this thing between them is 1000% more genuine and real. They are even more perfect for each other than he realized.

And he will NEVER let her live it down.