#and so. i am excited to have. several days off in a row where i don't have to do anything.

[parameddic]

hi i'm alive and writing and have thoughts in my brain i'm excited to be here!!! thanks for waiting for me tumblrines, tumblrinos and tumblrinas 🌶️🐈

#my boss went out and got a new copy of the key we use to open the door at work which means now !!!! #the lady who i trained this week is going to start on monday #she picked everything up v quickly bc she already knew how to do half of it #she's so good!!!! and the lady who has been ghosting me after she quit #does not Need to drop off the key before i can finally stop Coming In To Work Again #and so. i am excited to have. several days off in a row where i don't have to do anything. #i will do so many chores and catch up on so many things #working full time does Not agree with me and i have been at it for like a month and a half by mistake dskfjlsdkjg #and oh ... oh i am not .. i am Not looking forward to doing placement but that's a not-right-now problem. that's a problem for not right no

[moonchildreads]

small town

Chapter 24 - Up Where We Belong

IN THIS CHAPTER: Graduation gowns, strawberry milkshakes, and Wayne asks a question [9.9k]

WARNINGS: dealing with grief (nancy, dottie, eddie to a less extent), writer not knowing how graduations are in the us

A/N: happy new year!!!! i hope everyone is having a wonderful start of 2024, here's your belated christmas gift from yours truly. if you read this and think "that's not how that works", then i don't know what to tell you bestie but i tried. i watched a TON of graduation ceremonies on youtube and i pulled heavily from those, aside from borrowing things from my own not-american graduation. i hope you enjoy it anyways! (and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!) <3

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All we have is here and now All our life, out there to find

Friday, June 13th - 1986

Wayne Munson had walked the halls of Hawkins High School several times throughout recent years courtesy of his nephew’s misbehaving, but never making it past Principal Higgins’ office was turning out to be a problem. Resigned, he stomped on his cigarette gently before following a family that looked like they knew where they were going, regretting not taking up Eddie’s offer to escort him inside before he disappeared in search of his friends and fellow graduates. Graduation. Ain’t that a funny thing to think about, Wayne mused. The auditorium, he noted as he finally found it, was decorated in bright orange and calming forest green, a Class of 1986 paper banner hanging from the dark curtain that was doing its job as an unassuming background at the very back of the room. On the stage, there was a regal-looking wooden lectern, and a small table with stacked up rolls of paper tied with orange and green ribbons; next to it, a bunch of black chairs where teachers would probably be sitting during the event had been carefully lined up into a single row.

Excitement filled the air. It was in the murmurs of the people taking their seats, skimming their programs to proudly find the names of their kids printed on the semi-matte paper. It was in the way the school’s faculty could not stand still, barely having time to say hello to everyone walking in before they were off to check yet another little detail so everything could go as smoothly as possible. Wayne walked down the central aisle trying to find a good spot to sit in while feeling a bead of sweat go down his back. The last time he’d worn a suit, any suit, had been to his mother’s funeral eight years before; in fact, he still only owned that one suit. The temperature in Hawkins was steadily rising as June turned into July, and Wayne felt incredibly stuffy in his clothes but he didn’t dare wear anything less for such a special day. Eddie had defied all odds and was now a High School Graduate, the first Munson to walk to stage in three generations. Truth be told, his Uncle was willing to bet that he was actually the first one to do so in their entire family history, and thus, Wayne wore the suit, and the shirt, and the tie, and searched for a seat near the front to witness his nephew doing the exact opposite of what the whole town had always expected him to do: succeed.

Bianca, Donny’s mom, was fussing over her youngest grandson, Francesco, when she saw Wayne looking a little lost in the crowd and waved at him to wordlessly invite him to sit with them. The eldest Munson approached them with a smile, settling himself on the row behind the Vitale family who was so very busy trying to keep little Francesco and his (barely) older cousin Marco from running down the aisles and bothering other families.

“Good to see y’all made it,” Wayne commented, shaking Donny’s dad Angelo’s hand before turning to Vittoria, Donny’s heavily pregnant older sister. “Though I coulda sworn I heard you were on bed rest, missy.”

“I am, but what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she laughed, hand resting over her swollen belly. “This little lady hasn’t stopped kicking me all day, I think she’s more excited than I am to finally be outside the house!”

“It’s a special day, I’m sure the doctor won’t mind too much as long as we take it slow,” her husband said, kissing the side of her head. “Say hi to Mr. Munson, Marco.”

“Hi!” the little boy said, standing between his parents’ seats. “Whose Grandpa are you?”

“Marco!” his dad exclaimed, but Wayne laughed loudly.

“That’s not a grandpa, you dummy! That’s Eddie’s dad,” said Francesco, before grabbing his cousin’s hand and leading him towards Nonna Giulia down the row in search of the candy she always kept in her purse.

“I’m sorry,” Vittoria said with an apologetic smile. “They read this picture book about families at pre-school and now he thinks all men with white hair are grandpas.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I know I’m not gettin’ any younger,” Wayne joked, his eyes straying to the side of the auditorium where the seniors were finally getting ushered into formation.

The Vitale family craned their necks to see their boy, and Wayne in turn searched for his: Eddie was standing near Jeff towards the middle of the line, the two of them engaged in conversation as they waited for everyone to get into their respective places. It wasn’t that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to what his friend was saying; he was clearly answering back and keeping the chat going, but it seemed to his Uncle that he was searching for someone in the crowd, eyes scanning rows of unknown family members for a face he hadn’t yet found. Wayne was about to lift his hand to let him know where he was sitting, but it soon became apparent that Eddie hadn’t been looking for him - he had been looking for the short haired girl who had just ran into the auditorium with a panicked look on her face and an askew cap on her head.

Dottie hurried over to where her classmates were standing, enveloping a curly haired girl Wayne wasn’t familiar with at the very back of the line in an enthusiastic hug before doing the same with Donny. Wayne saw with an amused smile how Eddie waited patiently for his turn while she hugged Jeff, and how all his anxiety looked like it was melting away as he embraced her, eyes closed and face buried in her hair. After saying their hellos, Dottie kept walking to the front of the line where she greeted a strawberry blonde girl with excited hops and shared an equally loving hug with both her and Gareth. Her dad watched her with a fond smile from his place near the doors, a program held tightly in his hands. Taking pity on the poor man who Wayne knew was attending the event alone much like he was, he motioned for James to join their mismatched group who gladly took the offer, walking briskly towards the still empty seat next to Eddie’s uncle. James greeted Donny’s family before getting comfortable on his wooden chair and let a long breath out. Finally.

“Long morning?” Wayne asked, knowingly.

“Be grateful you don’t have a teenage girl in your house, Wayne. It was near impossible to get here on time,” James scoffed.

“Can’t be worse than Ed’s allergy to his damn alarm clock. It went off for a whole 15 minutes before he got up today.”

“Did it wake you up?”

“Nah. Was already up reading the paper but I wasn’t about to turn it off for him. He just rolls over and keeps sleeping if I do,” he said, and James shook his head with an affectionate smile on his face.

“Teenagers, right?”

“Yup. Teenagers.”

Over the few short months Wayne and James had known each other, they had learned to appreciate the quiet but hard work the other did for their respective kid. It wasn’t easy to be a single father, and even though Wayne wasn’t Eddie’s biological dad, there was no doubt in James’ mind that he fulfilled that role wonderfully in the boy’s life and heart. The Munsons and the Burkes had gone through a lot over the years, that much was undeniable, but on that hot Friday morning both fathers could be proud that their kids had made it to the other side relatively unharmed, all the while somehow finding each other to rely on along the way. If Dottie and Eddie were going to be inseparable all summer as they had been since the day they met, it was only fair James and Wayne got to compare notes on parenting and commiserate over the little annoying things they’d miss once the kids had left the comforting safety of their family homes.

Before they could continue their talk however, teachers began herding the seniors into a neat single file and getting into their places on the stage, Principal Higgins taking his spot behind the lectern. Excitement amplified as the crowd hushed - only suppressed coughs and a few little children’s voices could be heard in the quiet room. Wayne saw Higgins approach the mic and took a deep breath letting the pride he’d been feeling all morning take over him. The heat of the almost-here summer was forgotten outside in the parking lot, along with his smushed cigarette butt and the heavy weight he’d been carrying since a CPS agent left a scared 8-year-old Eddie on his doorstep all those years ago.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Hawkins High School Principal Thomas Higgins,” the man began, voice booming across the room with the aid of loudspeakers; Dorothy peered at him over the shoulder of the taller girl standing in front of her. “On behalf of the faculty, staff, and administration of Hawkins High, we’d like to welcome family and friends, and most importantly, to our seniors to the Commencement Exercises of the Graduating Class of 1986.”

Higgins paused for effect and the crowd followed his cue by breaking into happy applause - the aforementioned seniors gleefully waved to the few family members they could find within the sea of heads straining to look at them. The Class of ‘86 stood patiently to the side towards the back of the auditorium, waiting to be called into the main aisle where their names would be announced one by one and they’d go up the stage, accept their diploma, and go back downstairs to the rows of chairs at the front left that had been reserved for them. The full graduating class was small, no more than 40 students, and Dottie wondered how different things would have been for her if she were graduating with her New York classmates in a year that comprised around 400 kids instead of doing it in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Please, rise from your seats and join us in singing the National Anthem, followed by the Hawkins High School Spirit Song,” Higgins announced, and the sound of creaking wooden chairs filled the air as everyone followed his request.

Dottie sang along to the National Anthem without thinking too much about it, but when the first notes of the Hawkins High school song came through the speakers, she realized she had no idea what the lyrics were. No one had told her they’d be singing it during their only rehearsal, and certainly no one had spared a moment to teach it to her in the last six months. She wasn’t even sure she knew a spirit song even existed before that very moment. Eyes surveying over the crowd of family members, she saw that most if not all were singing along - the only ones not joining in were probably those who hadn’t attended Hawkins High and lived in a different town, perhaps even in a different state altogether. Heat rising up her chest under her dark green gown, she turned her head to the front, feeling very much like an outsider amongst her peers for the first time in months. Bryan Butler right behind her sang louder as the song was ending and she tried to not call attention to herself to let him take the spotlight. Once the music stopped, Principal Higgins neared the lectern to continue his speech.

“Thank you, you may be seated now,” Higgins said, and the wooden creaking resumed for a second as everyone sat back down to watch the rest of the ceremony. “The Hawkins High School Class of 1986 has experienced many memorable moments over the last four years, and Hawkins is proud of how these young graduates have worked and persevered through hard times to get to this day. We as faculty could not be prouder or more thrilled to celebrate with them, and we look forward to sending them off onto the next chapter in their lives. Parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and other family members, we are honored to have you here today as our guests to celebrate our graduates and we thank you for your support. Please clap along as the Class of 1986 proceeds to their places.”

The speakers began playing Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 in D and the crowd broke into fervent applause once more, Michael Allen leading the way for his fellow seniors to stand in the central aisle right below the middle set of stairs where they’d wait to be called to the stage. As they fell into their designated spots, Dottie finally recognized who had been assigned to stand right in front of her; it was Robin Buckley, the shy band nerd she had met at Family Video a few weeks earlier and briefly bonded with over their shared love of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was wearing white Converse sneakers with little drawings in blue and black ink, and the edges of her black rolled up jeans could be seen poking below her gown. She’s so cool, Dottie thought, not knowing that Robin was desperately trying not to scan the audience lest her nerves paralyzed her. Not even painting her nails bright orange had saved them from being chewed on this time around.

“Hawkins High School’s Class of 1986 was given the opportunity to choose a member of our staff to read their names as they cross the stage today,” Principal Higgins explained as three people already on stage stood from their seats. “I am honored to announce that this year, our Assistant Principal Mrs. Elaine Chandler will present the diplomas to our newest graduates. Mrs. Suzanne O’Donnell, Mr. Leopold Hauser, and myself will present them with their diploma cover, graduation medallions, and honor cords if applicable. Elaine?” he motioned for her to switch places with him.

“Thank you, Principal Higgins,” said Assistant Principal Elaine Chandler, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she looked down the list of names in front of her. “Allen, Michael,” she called first from behind the lectern, and the crowd clapped as Michael went up to her and received a hug and a rolled up certificate before moving down the stage towards the other teachers to shake their hands.

Dottie’s palms began sweating as more names kept being called and her time as a Hawkins High student slowly came to an end. Even though she had felt very much like an intruder looking in through a window during her first few months in the town, she had to admit that was happy here now - certainly much more happier than she’d ever been back in New York. Here all the teachers knew her name without having to read it from a file. Here she had a group of friends she’d go to literal Hell and back for, and she had a boyfriend who loved her the way she’d always thought love should be: easy and gentle. Here she had attended the best prom of her life, and her face would be permanently attached to a club that had given her the safety she’d never gotten anywhere else to finally, truthfully, be herself. Here Dottie had been at home.

While Barnes, Kathleen was getting her extracurricular honor cords for being part of the cheerleading team, Mrs. Chandler called upon Buckley, Robin and Dottie suddenly found herself at the front of the line. Robin climbed the steps with as much grace as she could muster while being pretty much mortified, and Mrs. Chandler soothed her with friendly pats on her back before presenting her with her diploma. The tall girl accepted it with shaky hands, her rings glinting under the stage lights, when a loud cheer rang above the polite applause of the crowd. Robin laughed, half embarrassed and half grateful, and when Dottie turned to see where the sounds were coming from, she found not only Dustin and Erica hooting and hollering besides a couple who were clearly Robin’s parents, but also that Steve guy that worked at Family Video with her, the one that Robin had described as her strictly platonic best friend with a capital P. It looked like retail did bond you forever after all.

Mr. and Mrs. Buckley looked between confused and amused as Steve pinched his bottom lip and let out a loud whistle - a chortle escaped Robin’s mouth while a cheerful Mr. Hauser, who had been her favorite teacher all four years of high school, put her graduation medallion around her neck, nerves all but forgotten before she skipped her way down to Mrs. O’Donnell to receive her extracurricular honor cords for being in band. Huh, that’s curious, Dottie thought distractedly. Didn’t know Dustin and Erica were such good friends with her and Steve. I wonder how they met.

“Burke, Dorothy,” called Mrs. Chandler through the speakers, jostling Dottie out of her musings.

This was it. The moment of truth. Dottie climbed the stairs and accepted a hug from Mrs. Chandler, hearing her friends cheering for her loudly in the background when her damp fingers came into contact with her diploma. She glanced at the crowd and time seemed to stop when her eyes found her Dad, a proud smile on his face and his program tucked under his armpit so he could clap loudly for his daughter. She waved at him and Wayne, who had also stood up to cheer for her, and time resumed after a blinding flash went off and she was whisked along to where the rest of the teachers were standing. She shook hands with both Principal Higgins and Mr. Hauser even though she hardly knew both men, and accepted her diploma cover and her graduation medallion before turning towards Mrs. O’Donnell. She was about to hug her teacher when the old woman presented her with her own honor cords, entwined green and orange ending in delicate tassels dangling from her manicured hands.

“That’s not- I’m not-” Dottie began.

“You have one of the highest GPAs in your year, besides being involved in two extracurriculars. Congratulations, Miss Burke. You’ve earned this,” O’Donnell said, and it was perhaps the only time in the whole semester Dottie had seen her genuinely smile.

“T-thank you,” she managed to get out, letting the woman drape the cords on her shoulders and rushing to her seat before she began bawling on stage.

“Hey, congrats!” Robin whispered once they were both seated next to each other, shaking her own cords lightly. The ceremony continued with no regards to their little chat.

“You too! Didn’t know I had qualified for any of this, I think everyone saw me have an aneurism up there.”

“Nah, everyone’s too nervous about not tripping down the stairs on their way back, don’t worry about it.”

“Coleman, Gareth,” Mrs. Chandler announced, grabbing Dottie’s attention.

Carver, Jason hadn’t even reached the sidestage stairs to go down after accepting his diploma when Gareth, in his haste to get everything over with, tried to climb two steps at a time and got his feet tangled in his dark green gown. Cunningham, Chrissy, who was right behind him, quickly caught his arm before he could lose balance and hit the floor. He quietly thanked her with red cheeks and embarrassed eyes before he finally went up the stairs, one step at a time. Chrissy went back to the front of the line while other classmates around Dottie and Robin snickered at the little mishap; Gareth accepted his diploma and other paraphernalia, and got the hell off the stage as quickly as humanly possible.

“Thank God that wasn’t me,” Robin muttered, and Dottie grimaced in agreement.

Gareth ended up awkwardly sitting between Jason and Chrissy, but much to his relief, they had all been assigned to the row behind Dottie. Taking advantage of the proximity, he leaned forward to talk to his friend as the ceremony progressed and Chrissy quickly joined, stopping to give Dottie a kiss on her cheek from her seat behind her as a second greeting. Jason watched the scene unfold and asked himself when had his girlfriend started hanging out with people he didn’t know. He thought he knew everything about Chrissy - when had that changed and to what extent? Selfishly, he couldn’t help but think about what the future would look like for them when they left for college. Chrissy was headed to OSU and he would be at Indiana State, almost four hours and more than 250 miles between them. Would this be their last summer together? He didn’t like to entertain that thought.

Davis, Monica, Foster, Kyle, and Hanson, Randall were some of the names they didn’t pay much attention to until Humphrey, Andrew was called to the stage. Jason distracted himself from his anxiety over his relationship possibly having an expiration date by clapping loudly for his best friend. Dottie and Gareth shared a mischievous look: Andy wasn’t wearing any bandages on his nose anymore, but the dark purple shadow under his eye was still very visible with the bright stage lights illuminating his face. After him came Hurley, Marcie, one of Dot’s colleagues from the newspaper club, and Kemper, Lucy, the girl who had sold almost everyone their prom tickets. Morgan, Theresa was on stage when Dottie realized she knew almost all the people in her graduating class by name now, even if they had never spoken to one another before. In New York, she’d never known the names of all the people within a single class, not since elementary school at least. She wondered if they remembered her, but then decided she didn’t care that the answer was probably a resounding no.

When Munson, Edward was called to the stage, Dottie and Gareth stood up to make as much noise as possible, both infinitely proud of the long haired boy with the charming eyes who was accepting the one piece of paper that had seemed so elusive all this time. Dustin and Erica hollered at him, and the rest of the Hellfire Club, still in line waiting to accept their diplomas, joined them in their antics. When Principal Higgins went in for a handshake, Eddie pulled him into a hug; the older man laughed and let it happen, a sort of fondness for the metalhead’s unwavering resilience present in their interaction. He accepted his medallion and his own honor cords for being the Chapter Leader of a student organization, and just before he climbed off, he approached the edge of the stage with a dazzling grin.

“Here it comes,” Dottie muttered, anticipating her boyfriend to give the middle finger to the entire town and bolt as he had declared he’d do on multiple occasions.

What Eddie did instead was find his Uncle in the crowd and bow deeply in his direction as people clapped for him like it was the end of a play. Wayne pretended to not be choking back tears as his nephew got off the stage, lips pursed behind his fingers trying to hide the grin threatening to break out on his face.

“Coward,” Gareth said, and Chrissy hit him in the shoulder.

There was no time for Eddie to do anything more but find his seat, because immediately after him came Patton, Jeffrey, and exactly ten names later, came Vitale, Donatello. The teachers laughed and cooed at his excited nephews jumping up and down the aisle, cheering for his favorite Uncle. One day in the not so distant future, they’d probably be handing them their diplomas too. Just how many faces in the crowd had walked through these same halls, attended the same classes, and some of them even had the same teachers as the Class of ‘86? A much younger and recently married O’Donnell, a Higgins as a History teacher prior to his Principal days, a Kaminski after his eldest son had just been born. Never before had the kids in the Hellfire Club felt as much part of the Hawkins High community as they did now - it almost felt unfair that they had to permanently leave the place to finally feel that way.

“And last, but certainly not least,” said Mrs. Chandler when there was only one person left to climb up the stage. “-Wheeler, Nancy, the valedictorian for the Class of 1986 who will say a few words for us and her fellow graduates after receiving her diploma.”

The crowd broke once again in loud applause as a red cheeked Nancy in her dark green gown and bright orange valedictorian stole greeted all her teachers with a few flashcards containing her speech in her hand. Karen Wheeler looked at her daughter with shiny eyes, infinitely proud of her little girl that’d grown into a smart, capable woman right in front of her. In a few months she’d be far away, following her dreams, and taking a piece of her mother’s hopes with her as she did so, but none of her fears. Holly raised her arms, silently asking to be lifted up so she could see better, and Karen picked up her youngest daughter, pointing at her big sister in the distance so she could wave at her. Nancy took her place behind the lectern and looked at the audience, a carefully put together mask over bittersweet eyes that Dottie had almost become used to seeing on her friend. If she stared into a mirror too deeply, she could recognize the dents in her skin of her own mask, now laying shattered at her feet.

“Honorable guests, Principal Higgins, Hawkins High School faculty, academic and supporting staff, friends, families, and graduates - good morning,”  Nancy began, voice soft but pleasantly clear. “It is with great pride that I stand here before you on such a special occasion to deliver this speech, which I promise I’ll try to keep short and sweet,” she lightheartedly smiled at her audience before she grew solemn once more. “However, before I start, I would like to ask you to join me in a moment of silence to commemorate the students and family members who could not be here today with us, and to remember the victims of the Starcourt Mall Fire on July 4th, 1985.”

Not a sound could be heard for a few heartbeats, and Dottie watched the faces of the town she’d come to love morph from amused to weary. There was real mourning here, a deep gash left open in a community that couldn’t heal properly because some wounds were just too deep to scab over. Eddie had told her everything he knew about what had happened, the official story everyone that hadn’t been involved in the tragedy repeated when asked, and her heart constricted when she saw Dustin and Erica in their seats with their heads down. They looked downright haunted. Steve sat next to them, watching over them with such turmoil in his eyes that Dottie had to wonder if there was something they were all missing about what happened. Had Steve also been in the mall with them? Had Robin, who was quietly sitting next to her like she was reliving a horror movie behind her eyes, her fingers absentmindedly tangling and untangling themselves in her honor cords?

Karen, sitting next to her unaware husband and emotionally closed off son, took a few deep breaths to keep her tears at bay and gently kissed Holly’s head before shifting her baby on her lap to hold her against her chest more tightly, like someone could snatch her off her arms at any given moment. Dottie twisted her mom’s engagement ring on her left middle finger and bit the inside of her cheek while blinking away the wetness gathering on her lash line. Not now, she scolded herself. Later.

“Thank you,” Nancy said, breaking the silence and moving onto her next flashcard. “Four years ago, we arrived at Hawkins High as children, and we are now leaving as young adults with our whole lives ahead of us. Some will go on to college, others will enter the workforce, but all of us will take the lessons learned here and let them guide us to become who we were always meant to be,” she turned to look to her side. “I'd like to thank our teachers for sharing their knowledge with us, for being patient and pushing us to achieve great things. With their help, our Hawkins High Mathletes reached their first ever state finals and brought home the silver medal earlier this year.”

There was a loud cheer coming from somewhere in the auditorium that sounded very much like Rick Stewart, exiting Captain of the Hawkins High Mathletes. Some people laughed goodnaturedly and joined in, the teachers clapping proudly at their labor being recognized. Nancy smiled and continued, knowing the applause would only get louder as she read the next part of her speech.

“I'd like to thank our coaches and counselors for making school more than just homework. You taught us about discipline, teamwork, and integrity, which led our basketball team to win the 1A North Central Conference Championship for the first time in 22 years,” the applause that followed was deafening, and it took several minutes for it to die down before Nancy could keep going. “I'd like to thank our families for supporting us in more ways that we could ever count, for chaperoning our dances and field trips, cheering for us at our sporting events, and attending all our plays with so much love and commitment, that our Drama Club was able to extend their winter run of West Side Story with a packed audience every night until their closure.”

The cheers this time were much more subdued, yet polite and sustained enough to not be embarrassing to the Drama Club members and their families in the audience. It was clear, however, where the town’s loyalties stood: Indiana’s love for basketball was known throughout the country, and Hawkins wasn’t the exception to the rule. Nancy looked at her graduating class and grabbed the last two flashcards in her pile.

“No one achieves success alone, and we are truly grateful for the help and guidance we’ve received during our years as Hawkins Tigers. However, if my classmates indulge me for a second, I’d like to ask each of you to think about a moment where you felt proud of yourself. Think about the things you’ve accomplished here, and the challenges you’ve overcome. A great woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt once wrote, you gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do. Our time as Hawkins High School students has come to an end. We did it, Class of ‘86. We did the thing we thought we couldn’t do, and we’ve learned that we can take the next thing that comes along, so keep moving forward. I’m proud of you, and I hope you are too. Thank you, and congratulations to us all.”

Dottie followed Nancy with her eyes as she shook Principal Higgins’ hand once more and left the stage towards her seat. Her hands were shaking lightly, and her lips were pursed, but she almost looked lighter, like she’d left significant weight behind that had nothing to do with public speaking related nerves. Nancy’s speech had been beautiful, there were no doubts about that, but it was strange to think about someone like her looking at her high school years as something that had been horrific to live through. She was popular enough to not have been bullied, pretty enough to have been desired and looked up to, smart and well-off enough to never have to worry about not fitting in.

High school was certainly hard for almost everyone, but the way Nancy had spoken about it left a familiar bitter taste in Dottie’s mouth. If Eddie had been right when retelling her the town’s recent strange happenings, Nancy had probably been thinking about her friend Barb when writing her speech. She would have most likely graduated alongside her, maybe she’d be headed to a nearby college where the two girls could still see each other often, or to a completely different one across the country and they’d have to call every weekend with updates on their new lives. Holland, Barbara should have been called up to the stage between Hall, Suzanne and Humphrey, Andrew, but now she was just another name added to the always-growing list of people who ought to have been there, but ultimately couldn’t be.

“Thank you for that inspiring speech, Miss Wheeler,” said Principal Higgins, returning to his place behind the lectern to close out the ceremony. “Graduating is an amazing achievement for these students, and we here at Hawkins High are excited to see the things they’ll accomplish in the future. By the authority vested in me by the Governor of the State of Indiana, Mr. Robert D. Orr, I confer the appropriate diplomas for the Class of 1986. Graduates, please move your tassels to the left,” he smiled at his now former students. “Congratulations Tigers, you can now throw your hats!”

As they had been instructed during rehearsals, they threw their hats directly above them, not wanting to lose them on the way down before they could take pictures with them but in the excitement and elation of the graduates, some caps ended up on the floor, prompting kids to search for the lost items under their chairs while their classmates cheered above them and congratulated one another. Dottie hugged Robin again while Principal Higgins said his goodbyes through the loudspeaker without anyone really hearing him, families eager to leave the auditorium and get into their cars quickly to avoid the inevitable bottleneck at the entrance of the parking lot.

“Thank you all for coming and being part of this special moment,” Higgins said, voice ringing above the loud chatter and scraping of chairs. “Please drive safe and have a good weekend!”

“Dad!” Dottie called upon seeing James talking to Gareth’s family near their cars. He waved at her in acknowledgment and she turned to her friend to say her goodbyes. “I’ll call you as soon as I have my new schedule down, okay? We can go to the movies some day!”

“I’m gonna go see family up North next week, but I’ll call you when I get back,” Chrissy said, arm still tangled with hers. “We have to go see the new Karate Kid coming out soon, Ralph Macchio is so cute.”

“I’m not even gonna correct you on that because I do wanna see it with you, but just know I think you’re crazy,” the brunette said, laughing at her friend.

“Well, excuse me, bad boys aren’t everyone’s type,” the blonde retorted, a secretive grin gracing her fairy-like features before she pulled her into a goodbye hug. “I’m gonna miss you!”

“We’ll see each other soon! You go have a great trip, forget about this boring town for a while.”

After the girls said their goodbyes and went in separate directions, Dottie watched Chrissy greet her family with curious eyes. She didn’t know much about the Cunninghams and was surprised to see that her newest and most unlikely friend had a little brother she had never mentioned before. He must have not been the right age to be in high school yet or he’d probably be under Jason’s overprotective wing, especially if he was athletic like his big sister.

Chrissy might have looked small and dainty, but there was a certain fierceness cheerleaders had in their step - their aura had been painstakingly trained to command a room and demand attention. And yet, Dottie noticed that as Chrissy turned from her unassuming Dad to her elegant Mother, the brightness she radiated seemed to dim ever so slightly, even if her charming smile stayed in place.

“There you are! I was looking for you everywhere,” James exclaimed, her thoughts instantly lost to the wind. “Congratulations, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dottie melted into his hug, knocking her cap even more askew with his shoulder. “They gave me honor cords, did you see? I didn’t know I had earned them!”

“I’m seeing them now! You worked so hard, good job.”

“Congratulations, sweetie!” Lydia, Gareth’s mom, said, pulling her into a hug. “Have you met Gretchen yet? Gare’s big sister?”

“Hey, congrats,” Gretchen said with a polite smile on her face.

“Thank you, hi! It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” Gretchen said, eyes sparkling with mischief as she saw Gareth approach with two more kids toddling behind him. “I’m always really curious to meet any girl who would even talk to my brother in the first place, but you seem normal enough.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Gareth said, and Erica snickered.

“Honestly, he’s lucky we’re nice to him,” the middle-grader joined in, making Gareth groan in annoyance.

“You’re my friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Congrats, Dot!” Dustin said, hugging the older girl from her right side, prompting Erica to cuddle up to her on the left. “We’re super proud of you.”

“Aw, Dus,” she pouted, leaning her head on his. He really was like the little brother she’d always wanted and never had. “Thank you, you’re so sweet. I’m happy you two could be here!”

“It was fun! We enjoyed it.”

“I saw you guys with that Steve guy earlier, did you come with him?”

“You know Steve?” Dustin said, curious.

“Yeah, he works at Family Video with Robin!” Dottie said.

“You know Robin?” it was Erica’s turn to ask.

“Uh, yeah, we’re classmates? She was sitting next to me throughout the ceremony- wait, how do you know them? What am I missing here?”

“Nothing! Steve’s, uh- Steve’s our babysitter!” Dustin hurried to say. “Did you know he used to date Nancy a while ago? That’s how we met, through Nancy. And we know Robin through Steve. Hawkins is a very small place.”

“W-what? Nancy and…”

“Yeah, she dumped him in front of everyone at a party and he’s been all mopey and sad since then,” Erica said, prompting Dustin to elbow her. “What? Just the facts!”

“Uh…,” Dottie looked at Gareth, dumbfounded.

“Anyway,” Dustin continued, aware that multiple eyes were on him. “He’s our babysitter.”

“Dustin, you’re fifteen,” Gareth laughed. “You’re a little old to still have a babysitter.”

“My Mom’s protective of me, okay? I’m an only child.”

“And he’s a good babysitter?” Dottie asked, amused.

“The best. Steve’s… yeah, Steve’s great. More like an older brother figure than a babysitter,” Dustin smiled, clearly fond of the older boy. “You should hang out with him, I think you’d like each other.”

“Stop. Just stop,” said Erica, knowing where Dustin was headed.

“What?” he shrugged, feigning innocence.

“Alright, let’s take some pictures!” said Lydia, not having paid any attention to the kids’ conversation.

While they were in the middle of taking photos, the remaining Hellfire Class of ‘86 joined the group with their respective families. Eddie snuck up behind Dottie while she was distracted taking a picture with Jeff and picked her up, arms encircling her middle and spinning her around while she giggled unabashedly, hands coming to rest on his forearms when he put her down but didn’t let go. Wayne had to hide a chuckle while he talked to the other parents; his nephew really wasn’t as smooth and mysterious as he thought he was, and Wayne had been around the sun too many times to not recognize what he was seeing between Eddie and his little lady friend. Gretchen, in turn, looked at Donny and lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically.

“What have I missed?” she quietly said, a smirk lifting the corner of her lips. She’d always liked Donny the best out of all his brother’s friends, and was aware that as much of a good confidant as he was, he never shied away from gossip.

“He said he wanted to wait until after graduation to ask her out so I don’t think anything has happened yet,” Donny muttered back, crossing his arms and leaning closer to her friend’s big sister. “They’re totally gone for each other, though.”

“You don’t say,” Gretchen said and turned to Erica who looked very interested in their conversation. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s too chicken to ask her out,” Erica laughed. “But they have been looking really cozy lately. That’s suspicious.”

“Eddie knows she’s into him,” Donny said, making Erica’s eyes widen. “Forgot to tell you about that.”

“You bastard, I thought we had a good thing going and you’re withholding information from me? Nuh-uh, this is betrayal. I want reparations.”

“Oh, she’s feisty,” Gretchen said.

“Come to the restaurant this weekend, I’ll give you ice cream and we can catch up and compare notes,” Donny offered, genuinely interested in keeping his friendship with the fiery younger girl intact. “But it has to be this weekend, Dot starts working with us on Monday.”

“How big is that ice cream?”

“Big as you want.”

“Deal,” she put out her hand for them to shake on it, but it was merely a formality - Donatello Vitale had no intentions of ever crossing the one and only Erica Sinclair again.

As families began saying their goodbyes and heading to their cars, it soon became clear that Eddie and Dottie did not want the festivities to end so fast. They’d already taken multiple photos with everyone and with each other, waved Dustin and Erica off as they climbed into Steve’s red BMW, and even said hello to the Wheelers, but they would just not leave each other’s side, always fluttering around one another no matter what was happening. If James thought anything strange about it, he didn’t mention it, but as Wayne looked at his nephew’s beaming smile, he realized he didn’t have the heart to cut his happiness short when there was such an easy solution to their problem.

“You two have any plans for lunch?” Wayne asked James, finishing up another smoke.

“Not really, no. I was thinking of picking up some burgers to celebrate. Why? You have any suggestions?”

“Well, me an’ Eddie like to go to the diner down on Randolph on special occasions. Thought you might want to join us,” he smiled at the kids who were now both staring at him expectantly.

“Can we go, Dad?” Dottie asked with hopeful eyes. “They have crinkle fries - you love crinkle fries!”

“That’s really kind of you, Wayne, but we don’t want to intrude,” James was saying, but Eddie hurried forward.

“You wouldn’t be intruding, sir. We both graduated today, we can celebrate together!”

“Come on, Dad, they wouldn’t ask if they didn’t want us there.”

Both older men looked at each other with knowing eyes and James sighed theatrically before conceding, his daughter cheering happily at the new impromptu plans. The teens quickly headed in the direction of their cars deep in their own happy little world; their parents amusedly looked as Eddie opened her door for her and helped her in while they talked about burger combinations and debated about their orders.

“Meet you there?” James asked Wayne, also getting into his car.

“You bet. Come on, boy, quit the yappin’. You’ll see her again in ten minutes, she’s not gonna run away from you!”

“Jesus Christ, Wayne!”

Eddie and Dottie had already been to the diner down on Randolph a few times; some of them before they’d begun dating and once after, but never with their parental figures as unofficial chaperones. The booth at the back they loved to sit at was occupied, so they chose a table near the front instead - the diner was bustling with energy as multiple families had had the same idea as them and got a headstart on their kids’ summer holidays. Eddie helped Dottie with her chair, thoroughly enjoying how shy she’d get whenever he did something remotely gentleman-like, and plonked himself next to her, quickly engaging in conversation about the menu she was holding. James had no option but to sit in front of his daughter as Wayne took the seat in front of Eddie, both of them also busying themselves with their own menus.

The teens tried to act normal in front of their elders, they really did, but it was such a lovely day, and they were celebrating one of the biggest achievements in their short lives that it was as if they’d forgotten that friends didn’t usually look so smitten with one another. Wayne took little peeks at them over the bright laminated piece of paper in his hands, catching how Eddie was stroking the side of her arm resting on the table with his pinky finger while she talked; he loudly coughed when James put his menu down and took his reading glasses off, the unexpected sound making them jump and separate instantly just in time for him not to see them. A young and friendly looking waitress approached their table, pad of paper and pen in her hand.

“Hi! Are you ready for me to take your order or are we waiting for the wives to arrive?” she said with a perfect customer-service smile. Dottie blinked up at her twice, her face morphing into a blank expression.

“No, thank you, it’s just gonna be us four today,” James said politely.

Today, he’d said. Like Margaret and Maureen were off doing other things, like working or shopping or attending a jazzercise class, and couldn’t join them for lunch but they’d probably be around later. Like they weren’t gone forever. Like they were still alive. Nancy’s speech rattled around in Dottie’s brain, her eyes glazing over and her ears filling with invisible cotton. James and Wayne ordered their food, and Eddie ordered for both himself and her, very much aware that something was bothering her. Her sight was stuck to her Dad’s hand resting on the cheap laminate tabletop. The gold band that had been there on his finger since Margaret and him had said I do all those years ago taunted her, glinting under the fluorescent lights of the diner. They’d promised each other forever, and what did they get? What did she get?

“Dot,” Eddie muttered, hand sneaking down the table to settle on the exposed skin of her knee. “Darling, can you hear me?”

“Huh?” she turned to look at him in a daze.

Behind him, there was a table where a family sat: a father, a mother and a daughter, barely older than she’d been when she’d lost the most important woman in her life. The baby gurgled in her Mom’s arms, and the woman cooed at her, noses nuzzling against each other’s. Dottie turned her head towards the other side of the diner where a mother was cleaning up a little boy’s face, chocolate staining his chubby cheeks.

She had just graduated from high school and her mother wasn’t there. She hadn’t been there when she got her first period, during her first heartbreak, or when she won a spelling bee at age seven. She wouldn’t be there when she graduated college, when she got her first job, when she got married to the boy who was holding onto her leg with worried eyes. She would never be there, not today, not tomorrow, not ever. It was always going to be just them.

“Honey, are you okay?” James asked, leaning forward.

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed to get out before she stood up and bolted outside and into the parking lot, her chair scraping against the floor in her haste to get out of the diner.

“I’ve got it, sir,” Eddie said before he sped after her, his chains rattling with every long step he took to catch up with her.

In silence, James and Wayne watched their kids through the huge windows next to their table. When Dottie saw Eddie running behind her, she turned her back on him, hugging herself as she tried to keep her emotions together. She lifted a hand to wave at him over her shoulder and said something - probably that she was okay, that she didn’t need help so he should go back in - but as he came closer, it was evident that the storm that had been brewing inside her all morning was on the brink of overtaking her. All it took was feeling his hand hovering on her shoulder for her knees to buckle as she folded onto herself, Eddie instantly rushing forward to catch her and pulling her into his chest, her back rising up and down violently as she sobbed into his graduation gown. He chewed on his lower lip as he held himself together, never one to cry in public where people could see him and judge him for it. He muttered something into her hair, his chin resting onto the crown of her head, gently rocking her side to side as her sobs subsided.

“She was really lonely until we came here, y’know,” James said, breaking the quiet that had fallen on their table. Wayne could only look at his nephew, the gentleness he’d always known he’d possessed perfectly on display. “All her new friends are great to her but Eddie… you’ve got a good boy there, Wayne.”

“They’re both good kids,” Wayne said, matter-of-factly. “It’s a damn shame they’re so young and been through so much already.”

“Yeah, it is.”

In the parking lot, unaware that they were being watched, Dottie lifted her head from Eddie’s chest, an embarrassed smile on her lips as she fanned her face with her hands in an attempt to dry her tears without ruining what was left of her mascara. Eddie, still holding onto her, blew on her cheeks; she laughed, heart feeling equally heavy and light at the same time. There was joy and levity to be found in shared grief, that was something new she had learned from him.

“Sometimes I feel like Eddie understands her better than I do,” James admitted, fingers toying with his wedding band.

“They understand each other in ways that you and I never will,” Wayne mused. “That ain’t a bad thing. Actually, I think it might be healthy.”

“Mhm,” James agreed, half lost in his own thoughts.

Dottie squeezed Eddie one last time like she was mentally preparing herself, gathering strength for whatever came next, and nodded once to let him know that it was okay to let her go. Eddie followed her inside quietly, holding the door open for her as they filed in and sat once again at their table. They both looked very tired, and perhaps even a little bit flustered at having to face their guardians after bolting out of the diner so unexpectedly. Dottie leaned forward to grab a napkin to blow her nose.

“M’sorry,” she said, eyes low. James grabbed her hand gently.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. S’just a lot, you know?”

“I know,” her Dad said, watching her glance at Eddie next to her.

“Can I… is it okay if Eddie and I go to the lake after lunch?” she asked, shy. “We want to burn some cards.”

“Yeah, of course,” James said, knot tightening at the base of his throat and fingers tangling with his daughter’s.

Eddie was silent through the entire interaction, hands hellbent on shredding the paper napkin in front of him to minuscule pieces. Wayne could feel their table shake as he bounced his leg frantically, something he had long understood as his nephew’s tell when holding back tears. The waitress, unaware of what had just transpired, came back at that moment with their drinks and two milkshakes for the teens. Dottie smiled at them with wet eyes, and Eddie had the indecency to look sheepish: she hadn’t mentioned to him she wanted one, but he knew she loved strawberry milkshakes from this specific diner because they made them with real strawberry ice cream and not the powder. He must have ordered them when she blanked out. The simple gesture felt like balm for her anguished soul.

“Well, I’d like to propose a toast,” Wayne said, dissipating the remaining uncomfortable tension at their table. “To the Class of ‘86.”

“To the Class of ‘86,” James joined him, clicking their bottles of Coke together in the air.

Food arrived shortly after, and as an easy conversation sanded whatever edges were still sharp for the moment, Wayne observed the tender behavior of the kids sitting in front of him. It wasn’t as playful as it had been before, no, this felt much more… intimate. Considerate. Muted, yet still softhearted. Not missing a beat in the story she was telling to her Dad, Dottie grabbed the cherry on top of her milkshake and left it on top of Eddie’s. He gave her a toothy grin before popping it into his mouth, and she shook her head at him fondly. Yeah, this ain’t a bad thing at all, thought Wayne, taking a bite out of his food and laughing along with James at the ridiculous gossip Dottie and Eddie were sharing about their now former classmates.

“Okay, hold on a second before you run off,” Wayne said, as his nephew ushered his friend towards his van.

After lunch was done, it was decided that Wayne would drive Eddie and Dottie back to their trailer so they could get Eddie’s van and head to the lake for what they were calling The Card Ritual. The eldest Munson didn’t really understand what it meant, but it seemed that James knew what they were talking about so he didn’t ask too many questions about it - all he knew was that the kids were going to buy some cards at Melvald’s and then burn them, and that Dottie was emotional over the whole thing. If burning some paper brought peace to her heart, then who was Wayne to judge? He’d indulged in far more destructive coping mechanisms throughout his youth, evidenced by his unshakeable smoking habit.

After they’d said goodbye to James, they climbed into Wayne’s truck and headed to Forest Hills, graduation caps, gowns, and his suit jacket now discarded into the backseat. The heat kept rising in the early afternoon and Wayne just wanted to get out of his clothes, drink a glass of icy cold water, and take a nap in his undergarments next to his trusty fan, but he felt like there was a pressing conversation to be had before he went in and could finally relax on his day off.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, Dottie coming to a stop next to him.

“I just gotta know, kid,” Wayne turned to her. “Does your Dad know about you two or do I have to play dumb with him?”

“W-what? What do you mean?” she asked, nervously.

“I may not be young, but I ain’t blind, sweetheart,” he smiled. “You’re not in trouble, I just wanna know how to act around your old man, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t know,” Eddie muttered, grabbing Dottie’s hand and surprising her with how quickly he confessed. “No one knows, we haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Except Chrissy,” Dottie said.

“Except Chrissy,” he conceded. “She knows because I asked her for advice, but she’s the only one.”

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long has this been going on?” Wayne asked, pulling his lighter out of his pocket.

“Uh, like two weeks? We’re not, like- we’re not official yet,” Eddie scratched his neck uncomfortably.

“Not offi- Edward,” his Uncle hardened his stare. “I taught you better than that.”

“Shit, I swear I was gonna do it today! Wanted to wait until after graduation, I’m not trying to be a flake-”

“It’s okay! We talked about it,” Dottie said, hanging onto his arm. “I don’t mind waiting, we just thought it’d be best to keep it a secret for now,” Wayne turned to look at her, wary. “Mr. Wayne, please, I’d announce it at the next Town Hall meeting if he’d let me.”

“We share all the same friends,” Eddie explained. “They’ll wanna know all the details, and I just- she breaks up with me and I’m the biggest loser in Hawkins, you know how those assholes are.”

“Oh my god, stop calling yourself a loser!” she whined.

“Don’t break up with me, and I won’t be!” he argued back, but it was clear he was being silly about it.

“Okay, so what’s the situation here? You two dating or not?” Wayne asked, getting back on topic.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling down at her with hearts in his eyes. “We’re dating. I was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend officially later today but I might as well do it now since you’re so nosy.”

“It’s not like anything’s changing anyways,” Dottie said. “We just didn’t put a label on it, but I’ve kinda been his girlfriend since that party we went to a couple of weeks ago.”

“Hell yeah you are. And I’m your boyfriend, right?”

“No, you’re my private driver,” she deadpanned. “Of course you are, Eddie, what kind of question is that?”

“Just making sure, darling,” Eddie said, and Wayne snorted at how smug his nephew looked.

“Well, then… you two can go now, I guess. I’ll keep the secret.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne,” Dottie said, coming to hug him. “We’ll tell people soon, we just want a little bit of privacy for now. The guys can be so nosy sometimes.”

“Don’t I know that, kid,” he chuckled. “I’m real happy for you two.”

“I’m really happy too,” she whispered to him, a bashful smile on her face.

Eddie finally let her into his van, her white sundress and summery sandals a stark contrast against his ripped jeans and chains. They were an odd couple if one only looked at their clothes, but it was so clear that they vibrated at the same frequency that Wayne couldn’t help but think that he should have expected this development sooner. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to believe them when they’d said nothing had happened between them the night of the party. His nephew went towards the driver’s seat when he called to him again.

“Ed, a word,” he was dead serious as Eddie jogged to where he was standing.

“Yeah?”

“You treat that girl right, okay?” Wayne said, voice low so she wouldn’t hear from the van. “I don’t wanna hear shit from her Dad about you bein’ stupid with her.”

“I know.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not gonna fuck this up, Wayne. I love her,” Eddie told him, so sure of what he was saying that it knocked the wind out of his Uncle’s lungs for a bit.

“Love, huh?” Wayne laughed softly, and Eddie shrugged with red ears but looked so very happy. “Go, have fun. And take care of her.”

“I will,” he nodded.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Wayne said, ruffling his hair roughly like when he was just a boy barely taller than his own hip. “And your Momma would be too.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, eyes full of unshed tears. “I’m proud of me too.”

taglist: @munsonology @kurdtbean @every1lovesanunderdog @eg-dr3amer3

#bunny writes #small town fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things #hellfire club #corroded coffin #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #chrissy cunningham #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #wayne munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #joseph quinn #baby's first fic

[notthehardtyres]

ohhh can i ask for sebmick and ‘sharp’?

OKAY WELL THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME A BIT and I am leaving the house in a hurry so it is not proof read even a little bit. NONETHELESS--

It’s a bitter day in January, but the snap of the cold air in his lungs has never prevented Sebastian from dropping in on his soldiers as they drill in the courtyard. Guillaume is relentless in how he pushes them, but not a single one would complain; these men have bested armies twice, three times their number. Their loyalty is a blessing that Sebastian strives to be worthy of.

He’s pleased to see Mick among them, holding his own even though he’s never been asked to. He’s grown into a formidable young man, broad-shouldered, his muscles hard and lean, his eyes as cutting and blue as the sapphires in Sebastian’s crown. He hasn’t noticed Seb yet, intent on his form and rhythm.

Marching to the front of the battalion, Sebastian immediately has the attention of each man, and he halts and hushes them with a gesture. “I would like to borrow one of your men, Rocky,” Seb smiles, his voice quiet and clear.

Guillaume’s grizzled face looks almost like he wants to deny the request; if anyone could do so, it would be him. He nods, though, and waits for Seb to pace alongside the orderly rows of bodies—some in armor, others stripped down for comfort, sweating despite the cold—and find Mick, and signal to him to follow. The young man’s face lights up like a fire given fresh, dry fuel.

“Yes, your majesty?” He falls in behind Sebastian eagerly, even though his chest still heaves from exertion.

“Just wanted to see how you’ve been getting on,” Sebastian says, leading him to a clear area a few dozen yards away. “Quite well, it seems.”

“Thank you.” Mick’s cheeks, already flushed from the cold, burn bright red. “I’m grateful for the opportunity. Sir Guillaume is—”

He falters as Sebastian sheds his cloak, leaving it in a pile on the freezing stone. When Seb unsheathes his sword, however, he catches on, slipping into a defensive stance and raising his blade. Vapor trails from between his lips.

Seb launches forward with a few simple swings, easily parried, then presses the attack with a stab at chest-level. Mick sidesteps with plenty of time, and Seb deliberately lets his weight come too far forward—a split-second vulnerability. “Come on, where’s your counter-attack,” Seb prods, turning, his blade flashing overhead. Mick brushes it aside like shooing away a fly.

“You’re holding back,” Mick answers simply, although he gives ground as Seb advances. There’s a wall behind him, where he might end up pinned if he isn’t careful.

“Your king would be displeased if I killed you, I should think,” Sebastian returns with a coy smile, although, privately, he wonders how true a statement that really is.

Something changes in Mick’s eyes, a calculation being run in an instant. The same question that Sebastian has just asked himself, perhaps. “You won’t,” he says, so trusting, so matter-of-fact. With a burst of speed, he attacks, the force of it clattering up Seb’s arms as he blocks the swing and shoves back. Mick loses another step’s worth of ground, but his guard is perfectly centered, and he uses Seb’s next attack to turn them both, their sides to the wall, now. They trade blows back and forth for several more moments, speed and force building behind each strike. Sebastian’s heart pounds, he breathes open-mouthed, his veins pulse with excitement.

One well-placed slash breaks through his guard, and the cold steel edge contacts his shoulder—superficial, glancing off blade and bone, but still drawing a crisp red line through the navy-blue wool. Sebastian hisses softly, but it’s Mick’s sword that rings against the stone, struck still with horror.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, then, “I’m so sorry—your majesty, forgive me—”

“Mick, it’s all right,” Sebastian insists, although the young man practically leaps forward, pressing his broad palm over the cut as though Sebastian might bleed out without it. “It’s nothing. It’s all right.”

Once Mick has confirmed for himself what Sebastian knows, he backs away a step and kneels, head bowed. “Your majesty, please, I—”

“No, no, Mick,” Seb repeats, reaching down with his uninjured arm to cup his cheek, which is burning hot under his fingers. Mick looks up, grimacing. “You’ve done me no wrong. I shall keep the arm, I’m quite sure.” He grins, his thumb tracing a line from Mick’s temple to the hollow of his cheek. “The fault is just as much mine, after all. When we choose a sharp edge to wield, we do so knowing the consequences.”

#rosyjuly #my fic! #prompt fic! #spoils of war #sebmick

[quensty]

tagged by @moondal514 (thanks babe!) to put my spotify on repeat playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs. or at least that’s the way i’m doing this 🤷

if u’re wondering why i’m using the chicken emoji that is strictly mexican business go back to ur drinks

🐓 it will come back by hozier: i think abt the lines “don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ don’t be kind to it” every single day

🐓 lafayette by orville peck: the first time i listened to this song i was at school and i’d accidentally fallen asleep with my headphones on. i woke up solely to make sure i favorited this song. i think that tells u how severely this song slaps.

🐓 25 minutes to go by johnny cash: every time i listen to this song i start off super pumped and get increasingly sadder as it continues. it’s two minutes and 56 seconds of pure genius. to tell the story of a man on death row as he counts down the time to his execution. it’s funny and sharp and brutal, but i do think regularly abt these lines cash omitted: “well, my lawyer says he's sorry he missed my case / fifteen minutes to go / yeah, well if you're so sorry, come up and take my place / i got fourteen minutes to go”

🐓 wayfaring stranger by poor man’s poison: i’m abt to admit a ghastly sin but i prefer this version to johnny cash’s 😞 i think it’s the combination of guitar and whatever string instrument they use plus how it gradually crescendos that makes it life changing

🐓 no children by the mountain goats: when i first listened to this song at 13 i couldn’t have possibly known it would change me completely as a person the way it did. omg i just realized it’s been a consistent fave song of mine for nearly ten years … moving on

🐓 babooshka by kate bush: she NEVER misses. kate bush i would die for u

🐓 eat your young by hozier: my brother and i are going to his concert this year and i’m so fucking excited. i’ve missed his music so much. i’m ngl to ya’ll i might cry

🐓 mitchell: epic iii by the cast of hadestown: “and suddenly hades was only a man / with the taste of nectar upon his lips” how am i meant to be normal abt this song fr. hades king of the scythe and the sword who scrapes the sky and scars the earth in love. AND THEN: ”where is ur pleasure? / where is your youth? / where is the man with his head in his hands? / who stands in the garden nothing to lose” gagging

🐓 hasta que te conocí by juan gabriel: i listened to juan gabriel throughout my entire childhood and considered one of the best musicians to ever live. when i found out he was gay, i cried for like an hour out of sheer happiness and emotion. this song is just one of my dozens of favorites of his.

🐓 hungover in jonestown by amigo the devil: i seriously think amigo the devil as a band infiltrated my brain, took note of all the things that make me most ill, and then decided to write music specifically intended to make me foam at the mouth. “i tie the noose but you are the rope … if i am the drunk you are the wheel” JESUS CHRIST

i’m tagging: @cabeswater @youthbleeding @keepoffthetardis @minimyz and whoever else wants to do this! consider urself tagged :) <3

#mentioned

[your-local-uwu-artist]

It was a warm day in June. The sun was shining brightly. It was the last day of school. Then, I’d be done for good (unless I went to college). my classes seem to take forever. Then it’s graduation time. My mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, and younger sister are in the front row. My friend, Katherina maze, is called first. Then Fiona kettle, Mazza grave, and Anthony Brass. Then, my name, Timpani Ozona, is called. My family is cheering louder than ever before. In fact, my 4th grader sister, flute, even got her cheerleading squad to do a cheer for me! I was smiling wider than ever. I get to study to be a doctor, my dream job. I was excited, but might have gotten a bit carried away when I did a front flip in front of the audience. I go back to my spot, feeling awesome.” After everyone was called, me and my friends walked home. ‘How lucky!’ Kate exclaims. Her twin sister, Jane, replies in a know-it-all voice, “it takes skill, not luck.” Then she turns to me and congratulates me. When I get home, I get no break. We went out to Zina’s grill, my favorite. Then we went to get cake, where I bump into my friend celine. She congratulated me then says “tell me everything you learn, alright?” “I’ll try,” I reply. “I have to leave on august 1st. See you!” When we return home, I pack for college. It is in Madica, Cleveland. I’ll have to go live there. ✨S U D D E N L Y✨, my best friend hope pops up out of nowhere. “Agh! You scared me!” “We can be roommates!” She says excitedly. “Yes!” I say. The rest of the days go by in a blur. However, I can remember something late said. My old boyfriend, Dane, totally dumped me. I was sad for a while. Kate told me. “If you get an awesome boyfriend tell me!!!” Hope pipes up. Her little sister piper is there. She and my sis are BFFS. Three days later, I’m speechless. “Wow” I say, taking in all of Cleveland university of tequila. A guide shows us around. It’s amazing. I hear hope suddenly ask if we can be roommates. “You’ll have to talk to ms. Paleo.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have your books?” “Yes!” “Good. Your classroom is over here.” He says, pointing to a room marked ‘275’ I find two empty desks. We sit down. “Okay class, open to page 52 in the human body: anatomy and workings.” The days go by, and I learn a lot…

It is late august. I am twenty-three years old, and I still keep a diary. I don’t know why. Today this morning I went for a walk, but something told me to bring my first aid kit. I brought a fold up stretcher (are injuries really that severe today???) and stuff to set a broken bone (I’m a total weirdo). I had been strolling happily for five minutes when I heard something interesting. I saw two TOD (tribe of darkness) boys pestering- no, threatening another. They were slowly inching closer so he’d fall off. I caught one word tho: “you’re so scared you belong on the human side haha” they laugh. Why are they laughing, I wondered, why are they pushing someone off Cliff Cleveland, which is 150,000 meters tall. I set up my portable elevator (tons of technology, right? It’s the year of 2109. I climb down it, but it’s too late. The sound of somebody falling echoes through the canyon. He took quite a fall. I pull out the stretcher, and go somewhere where my supplies are. I’m thought learning learning how to treat TOD people was completely worthless, but it paid off BIG TIME. thirty minutes or so later, while I’m fixing myself a cup of tea, I hear a noise. I quickly head back to the room. He looks confused. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do once he woke up. He starts squirming. He’s obviously trying to get out. He needs to stay 25 more minutes. I was warned about this. I also took psychology (I was a very lucky girl. Not many girls went to college. I had to get 100% on every assignment and had to do 15 sheets of extra credit every night. I had to work very hard.) I also learned that TOD people need to stay in bed for an hour. There were still twenty three minutes left.

@interdimensionalvoid ????????????????????????????????

[archive-of-note]

Fresh Sourdough and Old Stories.

(I’m not good at this fic naming thing don’t at me)

Pero Tovar x GN! Reader

Rating: Teen, only because reader gets a lil thirsty.

Warning: Food

Notes: @absurdthirst wrote this earlier today, I read it, this happened, then I took a nap.

Fun fact: I only know two things about my great grandad. One, he was from China, and two, when he met my great grandmother he said to her something along the lines of “you’re very fat.” Which from him was a complement. It got lost in cultural translation and her girlfriends threatens to kick his head in.

Writer Wednesday Week 25, @writer-wednesday

Your great grandmother told you the story.

You were young, probably four or five, when she turned off PBS and sat you down with all the solemn seriousness of some great tragedy.

Then she told you a story.

Pero Tovar, a mercenary— you had to ask what that meant— from Spain— you had to ask where that was— helped defeat nameless monsters at the Great Wall.

“The one in China?”

“Yes, sweetheart, that one.”

Something happened to him there, something beyond reason, a miracle or a curse— you asked how a miracle could be a curse— it has kept him alive these near thousand years— you still couldn’t count that high— and no one knows except for your family.

“Why only us?”

She booped your nose, “Because we were the only ones who noticed.”

When you got older, you learned that great grandad was the one who kept the story, but he told grandma before he left for war.

Everyone says he died on the battlefield, even though there were pictures of him back home after it was over.

You didn’t understand what that meant until later, and your heart still sometimes hurts for the man you never met.

For some reason the story stayed with you, even after only hearing it once. It lead to a somewhat obsessive phase with time traveling romances and history, your mother even joking that she didn’t just have you a bit late, but apparently centuries late.

You tried to slow down your rereads of Outlander after that.

Life happened, it stalled, you grew into a person via fits and starts, slowly chipping away at an AA until you suddenly had it but still had no clue what to do with it.

The bakery was supposed to be a pit stop, which insured that it would be anything but.

Grouchy four AM wake ups turned into tolerable ones, turned into excited ones. Your boss said you ran through the kitchen like a hurricane, but one that at least had the decency to pick up after itself.

You’d laugh and only slightly choke on the flour in the air.

Breads became muffins, then tarts, then pies, and occasionally even cakes. All of them simply presented but delicious nonetheless.

And time went on.

“I’m giving you first dibs.”

“First dibs on what?”

Wild berries with a lemon drizzle, one of your more extravagant offerings, but with summer coming to a close, that burst of sweetness with a subtle hit of zest was what people wanted. Something to hold onto that summer feeling as the season came to an end.

“The shop.”

Only several years worth of practice and learned reflex is what kept those tarts alive.

But only just.

“What?”

“You’re basically running the place yourself, if you want it, it’s yours.”

You place the tray on one of the cooling racks and swat at your apron, movements nothing more then an anxious fidget.

“But I don’t know anything about the business end.”

He laughs.

“I’m not leaving yet, just getting my ducks in a row, so I can teach you.”

Relief, still tinged with nerves but relief nonetheless.

He says you should’ve gone into business, with how fast the numbers and names stay with you, and maybe you’ll try for that one day. But for now, it’s just learning things and transferring others, making digital spreadsheets to give the poor hand kept ledger a break. Learning stock codes and company quirks that justify them still being used opposed to something closer or cheaper.

“And I don’t care what Jonathan says, the man is nearly old as I am, he damn well knows not to fuck with me.”

You choke on your laughter, it’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard the man swear at someone opposed to some temperamental machinery.

He laughs along as well.

“I’m sure you’ve got a handle on it, especially with the computer doing the sheets.”

“It can’t replace you.”

“Damn right it can’t!”

You hug him, he’s no longer your boss and that feels weird, but oddly enough not wrong.

You might actually be settling into this.

“Remember, anything gets weird or goes wrong, I’m just a phone call away. I won’t leave you hanging.”

“Yeah, I still might call though, just to check if you’re still kicking.”

“Worrywart, I’m not dead yet.”

“And you better keep it that way.”

He laughs, he leaves, and by noon that day, you get an email that informs you the deed of ownership has been transferred and the place really is yours now.

It’s scary.

It’s exciting.

And time goes on.

Some things change, you renovate so there are more windows, thus more natural light, you hire some new hands, to keep the back moving, and while it hurts you just a bit, you finally replace Ol’ Big Bertha. The oven screeches in protest and the guy who installs the new one is surprised that she was still standing. And after he gets a small burn, that surprise moves to the store.

“Bit longer, who knows what’d've happened, really,” he wipes his brow, “probably shoulda been replaced a good twenty years ago.”

“Probably closer to forty.”

He makes a face, “I was hoping to be polite.”

You wave a hand as you give him a tip, “Politeness in regards to safety never kept anyone alive, so please, use this as a cautionary tale,” you elbow him in the side in what was probably too casual a gesture, “might even get more sales out of it to boot.”

He gives an awkward chuckle, before walking himself out.

And time goes on.

He’s handsome, that’s the first thing you notice. Dark hair with a slight curl, olive skin, a prominent nose, he turns to look at something at the far side of the display, and his profile is striking, something classical that should be cut from marble.

“May I help you?”

Nothing.

You speak up, “Sir, may I help you?”

He hums, but you don’t think it has to do with responding to what you said.

“Sir!”

Still nothing.

Is he hard of hearing? It’s been ages since you practiced ASL, and even then, does he know it?

“May I help you?”

He finally looks to you, and maybe it’s the heat of the store, but the way his eyes widen tells you otherwise, his cheeks have a bit of a flush.

That doesn’t distract you from the scar that shows he almost lost his left eye.

Suddenly you’re reminded of the story your grandmother told you.

A constant scowl, a ceaseless appetite, a scared Spaniard that has walked the world for nearly a millennia.

“I-“

There’s a lit, you can’t identify it yet but your gut is telling you Spanish.

“I followed my nose.”

It is, and at no point did your grandmother say he was handsome, let alone that he was cute.

You can’t hold back your laugh.

He shuffles, shifting his weight as he shoves his hands in his pockets. And of course those jeans are damn near painted on his legs.

“That’s good.”

You look around the store, empty except for him. So if he isn’t who you think he is (possible) you won’t have any witnesses to your flight of fancy.

“That’s what I wanted. For people to be drawn in by the smell of fresh bread.”

Now you’re nervous, and your tongue feels thick and awkward in your mouth.

He looks to your face, but quickly moves his gaze down to your hands, and you can’t help but roll your fingers, feeling as if he’s looking for a ring or something similar to the sort.

He swallows, “I want something. The best you’ve got.”

You hum, thinking it over what you have, and the sort of man he seems to be.

The shelf behind you is under heating lights, that double as spot lights keeping every loaf warm and making each of them look good.

Something traditional, little to no processing, old fashioned.

But maybe a bit of a surprise as well.

Your eyes zero in on one of your experiments, oats and whet germ, more for texture than for flavor, but also a hint of pepper, nothing all that strong, but it adds a bit of a zing that you very much enjoy.

It’s an entire loaf, but one of the smaller ones, it was only an experiment after all.

You squeeze it as you pick it up, smelling the bread and being reminded of the cinnamon that you dusted the raw dough with as an afterthought, maybe you should pick another one.

But he did say the best you’ve got.

Your eyes flutter open, you didn’t even realize you’d closed them, and you catch a glimpse of his face. His mouth is open in something like awe, one hand raised but stalled in front of his chest, eyes a bit glazed over.

You blink again and he clears his throat.

You grab a plate, then figure if he’s who you’re gut is telling you he is, that he’ll want something else as well.

So you grab a tray, a crock and a pot, thinking of suggesting the broccoli and cheese cream soup, if he’s so inclined.

You push the tray his way, and he finally scrambles for his wallet, fumbling ever so slightly as he all but shoves his card your way.

P. Tovar

You shake your head, and his confusion turns into shock.

“For you, Pero Tovar, there is no charge.”

You can’t help your small smile, “Eat, enjoy, and remember.”

#writer wednesday #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #the great wall fanfiction #archive-of-note #fic of fic

[shiocreator]

It was a warm day in June. The sun was shining brightly. It was the last day of school. Then, I’d be done for good (unless I went to college). my classes seem to take forever. Then it’s graduation time. My mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, and younger sister are in the front row. My friend, Katherina maze, is called first. Then Fiona kettle, Mazza grave, and Anthony Brass. Then, my name, Timpani Ozona, is called. My family is cheering louder than ever before. In fact, my 4th grader sister, flute, even got her cheerleading squad to do a cheer for me! I was smiling wider than ever. I get to study to be a doctor, my dream job. I was excited, but might have gotten a bit carried away when I did a front flip in front of the audience. I go back to my spot, feeling awesome.” After everyone was called, me and my friends walked home. ‘How lucky!’ Kate exclaims. Her twin sister, Jane, replies in a know-it-all voice, “it takes skill, not luck.” Then she turns to me and congratulates me. When I get home, I get no break. We went out to Zina’s grill, my favorite. Then we went to get cake, where I bump into my friend celine. She congratulated me then says “tell me everything you learn, alright?” “I’ll try,” I reply. “I have to leave on august 1st. See you!” When we return home, I pack for college. It is in Madica, Cleveland. I’ll have to go live there. ✨S U D D E N L Y✨, my best friend hope pops up out of nowhere. “Agh! You scared me!” “We can be roommates!” She says excitedly. “Yes!” I say. The rest of the days go by in a blur. However, I can remember something late said. My old boyfriend, Dane, totally dumped me. I was sad for a while. Kate told me. “If you get an awesome boyfriend tell me!!!” Hope pipes up. Her little sister piper is there. She and my sis are BFFS. Three days later, I’m speechless. “Wow” I say, taking in all of Cleveland university of tequila. A guide shows us around. It’s amazing. I hear hope suddenly ask if we can be roommates. “You’ll have to talk to ms. Paleo.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have your books?” “Yes!” “Good. Your classroom is over here.” He says, pointing to a room marked ‘275’ I find two empty desks. We sit down. “Okay class, open to page 52 in the human body: anatomy and workings.” The days go by, and I learn a lot…

Five years later

It is late august. I am twenty-three years old, and I still keep a diary. I don’t know why. Today this morning I went for a walk, but something told me to bring my first aid kit. I brought a fold up stretcher (are injuries really that severe today???) and stuff to set a broken bone (I’m a total weirdo). I had been strolling happily for five minutes when I heard something interesting. I saw two TOD (tribe of darkness) boys pestering- no, threatening another. They were slowly inching closer so he’d fall off. I caught one word tho: “you’re so scared you belong on the human side haha” they laugh. Why are they laughing, I wondered, why are they pushing someone off Cliff Cleveland, which is 150,000 meters tall. I set up my portable elevator (tons of technology, right? It’s the year of 2109. I climb down it, but it’s too late. The sound of somebody falling echoes through the canyon. He took quite a fall. I pull out the stretcher, and go somewhere where my supplies are. I’m thought learning learning how to treat TOD people was completely worthless, but it paid off BIG TIME. thirty minutes or so later, while I’m fixing myself a cup of tea, I hear a noise. I quickly head back to the room. He looks confused. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do once he woke up. He starts squirming. He’s obviously trying to get out. He needs to stay 25 more minutes. I was warned about this. I also took psychology (I was a very lucky girl. Not many girls went to college. I had to get 100% on every assignment and had to do 15 sheets of extra credit every night. I had to work very hard.) I also learned that TOD people need to stay in bed for an hour. There were still twenty three minutes left.

Interdimensionalvoid i know it's you

#salt speaks #anonymous #You confirmed this was your fanfic from awhile back and you think ive forgotten

[unknownjpegs]

burr

She knocks and waits at the front door for five entire minutes. 

…And patience might not be one of Saha’s virtues, sure. But she’s not usually this bad about it. She could stand to wait a bit longer. Anybody else, and she might be inclined to do just that.

Except this is Benji’s place and he’s invited her in the first place, so it’s pretty fucking strange that he’s not at the door faster. 

Or, really, that Xavier’s not.

When she visits, it’s usually him there first. Throwing it open with such rabid excitement that the knob knocks against the wall — there’s a spot there that Benji’s had to patch over at least three times now. Saha would manage guilt about that, it’s just that Xavier has got the sort of I am entirely focused on you! energy that makes her forget how to feel anything but appreciated. 

So, when those five minutes pass and she’s not greeted with a crushing, spinning hug or Benji’s quirked grin, she knows something is wrong. 

Fuck. No, she knows something is up, all right? Can’t go there just yet.

She tries very hard not to let the panic rise too high. Could be all manner of things. Stepped out for a moment (he would have texted her though) or back at the pond (they would have heard the car pull up).

Saha fishes for the key she keeps on a beaded keychain. It’s an old, scraggly bracelet Benji’d made her when they were kids; ancient strand of fraying thread that she’ll cry hysterically over the day it breaks, blue and orange spheres framing two sun-faded letter beads: B & S. 

She lets herself in. Rubs the smooth, bumpy strands between her fingers to soothe her anxiety as she steps into the foyer and finds it empty. 

“Morning,” She hesitates, coat shrugged off as she sets her bag down. “Benj? Xavier?”

Saha rounds the corner, one hand pressed to her chest where her heart’s gone off, already beating rather hard. Kitchen empty, kettle on the counter steaming as if it’s just finished, but unplugged.  Xavier has got his jacket hanging on the rack by the door; Benji’s boots are, of course, kicked messily in the hall. There’s some music going on the television, Benji’s car in the drive, so… so she knows at least someone’s here.

What if they’re not, her brain hisses. What if they’re dead! They could be dead. Someone could have killed them. What if they’ve gone without saying anything. What if you never see him again. What if what if what if — 

Saha shakes her nervous hands out as she moves through the living room, slips down the hall towards the back porch. 

Which is, thankfully where she finds him. Of course. 

Sharp words with appa? Goin’ out. Little row with mum? I’ll be outside. Let off on her because she’d said something that caught him in the wrong way, at the wrong time? Don’t fucking follow me out, Saha.

Even though it’s already near ten in the morning and the breeze is just shy of spring-warm, Benji’s not even dressed properly. Old sleeveless band shirt she remembers buying him from some shifty online shop and a pair of too-big sweats. Cuffed several times, because he’d slip on them otherwise — Xavier’s, then. 

He’s sat at the bottom stair, back to her. Knees up, head tilted and propped in his hand. Other one’s got a cigarette near-done, which is very him. And there’s a fresh looking pack open with more than a few gone, which is very him. 

Don’t even do it often, he’d said the first time she’d caught him with one, nineteen and mopey just like this in their mum’s garden, home on his first proper leave. Only when I’m stressed.

You’re always fuckin’ stressed, dickhead. Saha had shot back. Angry at him, but it had been tinged with a cold, unfamiliar dredge of fear. Concern like she’d not yet known, when it came to him, something frigid and real in a way that monsters under the bed and bruised knuckles from a nasty fight had never been. That icy fear is what had made her grab the lit cigarette from his hand, made her toss it aside. And then they’d gone at each other, of course, spitting and childish and certainly loud enough the neighbors’d heard, until appa had come out to break it up.

Now, she just watches him pull on it. Still thinking, uh oh, but the panic ebbs into relief. It’s not happy body language — not for anybody. Benji’s well fucking reserved, unreadable at the worst of times. So the the fact that he’s got such a morose little slouch going says nothing good; what it communicates is enough. Because Saha knows how he gets when he’s really in his head, and that’s more frightening than this.

Well, here we go then. She takes a deep breath, steels her shoulders. 

“A’right, Benj,” Saha greets, taking a spot a few steps up from him. Keeps a bit of space, but knocks her knee against his shoulder. He doesn’t move, doesn’t swat at her. Face forward, looking out over the pond. 

She glances around. No big redhead sprawled out in the grass, not crouched down by the shore laughing himself silly at the ducks, not rounding the side of the house to be gross on her brother. 

Uh oh, she thinks again. What’s it this time? 

Because they get into proper fucking fights. Not even just regular little rows, but nasty ones. She knows because she’s been on the receiving end of both sides a venting, frustrated rant.

From Benji: swear to god there’s concrete up there, so fucking hard-headed. From Xavier: sahaaaaaaa he’s being stubborn again.

She smothers the smile down just in case he turns to see it. Would send him right over the fucking edge again.

“No.”

“Well, obvi.” She snorts. “And?”

“Got into it.” Benji says. He’s got that even, cold tone that tells her he’s not yet shaken free of the anger. Still pissed, might snip at her if she goes about it wrong.

“Come on, Benji. I figured. Bad, I reckon?” She asks, watching as he lifts the cigarette and blows smoke. 

He laughs humorlessly. Dull. Waves the smoldering now-filter, as if the empty space beside him is explanation enough. 

She could roll her fucking eyes at that. Dramatic little pisser. 

“What’s it been then?” His hair is soft under her palm when she rests it atop his head. That he lets her is a good sign. “He trip over your mess again and laid into you about it?”

Benji looks up at her, at that. Sometimes he gets this haze to his eyes she doesn’t recognize, and it frightens her. Not that she doesn’t recognize him, but that there’s something they don’t share. That he won’t ever share with her, she knows. 

Because she’s seen Benji at his everything: sky-high and dirt fucking low. Witnessed all his swinging moods. Seen him riled angry at some shite out somebody’s mouth, seen him euphoric behind a kit and slamming away like he was meant to be there, seen him child-scared at eight, teary at a snake on the path.

But this? Whatever deep, bone-ache hurt that’s there is wholly unfamiliar to her. Sure, he keeps it that way. But also that, even if he shared she might not get it, because she hadn’t been present. It’s something taken up in the muddy years, the in-between moments where he stuffs them all in a closet and turns to face whatever he does when he’s out there. When she’s not there with him.

Every single second, she wishes she had been.

She’s not stupid. She knows the source and that kills her. Makes her want to go back in time and get more in his stupid teenage face about it than she had. Shake him by the shoulders until the vapid, world-blind idealism sprinkled out. But then…could anyone have convinced him that loyalty could be shown in other ways? 

Dunno. But I should’ve been more angry. I should have let you see it. Should have stopped you.

Thinking of Benji and what he’s been through, what he’s been through alone, causes this helicopter whirr feeling in her chest. Like someone’s taken a whisk to her insides and mixed her up. It’s the thing she always gets when he so much as pouts — fix fix fix fix fix — wanting to hover and buffet away the shadows that creep up on him. Keep him safe, because that’s Benji. 

Little fucking arsehole of a brother, really gave her more trouble than she deserved, but that’s Benji.

“Yeah,” Benji says. His chin jerks (about to cry, Saha notes) when he tears his focus from her face. “Yeah, tripped over my fuckin’ mess.”

Saha sighs, eyes to the sky at his tone. “C’mon, Benj. Don’t twist. Get off the stage.”

“You’ve said it.” He shrugs, puts the smoke out next to him. They both watch the little gray bits flutter off in the slight breeze. 

“Sure but,” Saha moves forward until she’s standing directly behind him. Benji tips back reflexively to lean back on her shins while she pats his head. “Are you hearing what I’m saying or are you hearing what you wanna?”

Benji groans, looking at her upside-down a moment before dropping his gaze forward. “Need another if you’re gonna start going therapy on me.”

Saha swats him on the side of the head lightly. He grumbles and reaches out for the pack, but the audible stomp of her boot over it makes him pause.

“N’vermind. Guess I’m done.”

“Yep,” Saha chirps, and then drops down next to him. Rather, above and to the side, few steps up. “Sure are.” Her knee knocks into his shoulder.

They’re both quiet a long moment, nothing but birdsong and the taptaptap of Benji’s knuckles on the porch. Wind picks up like it’s about to rain, so Saha shields her eyes and looks up. 

“He’s gone where, exactly?”

Benji shrugs, but he glances side-long out past the pond towards the thick treelined edge of the property. “Dunno.” 

“Wanna let me know what it was about?” He hesitates, then shakes his head. “M’kay. Wanna talk about how you handled it, then?” 

He starts to do it again, so Saha firms her hand and pushes his head up-down in a forced nod. “Boss, Benj. Real proud of you for communicating.”

She slips down another step, scowling as a loose nail catches the hem of her skirt. She yanks, scoffs at the soft riiiip of fabric. “Awh, shit. Anyway. Were you listening or —“

“Fuck off.”

Ignoring him, raising her voice over his grumble: “Were you being an active participant and a partner, or were you in a debate.”

Benji scoots over and twists to glare at her. 

She stares back, eyebrows up. Waits him out, then: 

“Fuck off.” 

“Yeah,” Saha laughs. “That’s what I thought.” 

He stares off into the woods, brow furrowed. He’s tapping his foot now, too.

“I thought it’d be easy, y’know. There was just so much fuckin’ —” he huffs, disbelief evident. “It was hard all the time. Not — not with him. But the rest… Saha, I ever tell you the first time we kissed, it was in an active combat zone?” 

She must make a horrified face, because he nods, laughs.

“Yeah, right? Real normal shit. And Xavier’s…he’s got this through-and-through, bleeding everywhere. And I’m patchin’ him up.” Benji cups his hands together, splays them out in a helpless gesture, and then threads his fingers. Looks a bit darker on his cheeks, which makes her smile. “So he kisses me. And I’m thinking shit, you know? Shit, if this is the only one I get, I’m gonna be right fuckin’ pissed. Pissed forever.”

Saha snorts. Means for it to just be that, the single noise, but they both end up descending into big, guffawing laughter. Off-set the seriousness of his story with their humor, in the way they’ve always done. 

“Big fuckin’ bomb just drops out of the sky. Little whistle noise, how it goes in cartoons? Wooooooo-splat.”

He tosses his head back. “Exactly. Splat. Just my luck, y’know?” 

Hearing him say it, for some reason, sobers her. The reality of the situation slithers into the corners of her mind, and all Saha can think about is how she’d be sobbing and too ill to properly treat somebody with a bleeding wound. A bullet wound; so then she’s thinking of Xavier even paler than he already is, gray, and then she thinks of him in black and white, all the color drained out like an old photo. And she feels sick.

She’s got no idea how Benji manages it, medic shit. Can’t imagine blood. Can’t possibly imagine how it must have felt, blood and medic shit and Xavier.

 “That is proper fucking scary.” Saha says, because it’s true and she lacks the words to describe the feeling in her gut otherwise. “That’s awful, Benji. I mean, that’s…that is just awful.” 

“I know. I know, fuck. S’not even the worst of it,” he says, and then groans and shoves a hand through his hair. Makes it stick up all funny, so Saha reaches out and smooths it down. 

“Wish you hadn’t stepped on those. Could use one.”

“Tough.”

He shakes his head. When he tips his chin back, he looks like appa out in the garden, early-hours, taking sips of tea in between poses. Head always tilted up, serene and present. Except Benji’s real distant now, and he’s not got the bushy, silver-streaked mustache their father has worn for as long as Saha can remember.

“We weren’t together all the time,” Benji says after a moment. “Apart more of it, really. And I was always thinkin’, what if it’s just this one kiss? Then,” he breathes out a shuddering, shaky breath, so she puts a hand on his back. “Y’know. Then I was thinking, what if I don’t see him again? What if —” He glances over at her with wide, wet eyes. Saha’s own vision blurs. Always does, when she sees him cry. More than empathy tears — like the strand that connects them shares emotions, as well. 

“Fuck.” She looks towards the trees. “Are you worried that he’s not coming back, or something?”

“No,” Benji says immediately, wiping the back of his wrist over his face. “No, fuck. It was bad but he always — he’s always back soon. It’s not that.” 

She waits, palm moving in circles on that thin, familiar, threadbare black shirt. 

“I mean, what if it’s…s’posed to be easy, isn’t it?”

“Benji.”

His head jerks again, the motion angrier. “Nah, but listen. What if it’s supposed to be easier? Saha, he’s… like, why’s this just another thing? Shouldn’t it be a good thing coming ‘round? He’s fuckin’ gone through it and I don’t know anybody — it should be easy.”

“It is easy,” Saha forces a laugh, trying to break up the waver and crack in his voice, in the air. “Have you heard yourselves? Fuck, you are annoying. Literally talk circles and never breathe about it, swear.” 

Benji’s deep frown softens slightly.  

“I wish I knew where everything was going.” He waves his hand. It’s shaking. “Thought I knew where I was going, ended up there. Was fuckin’ hard, so hard that I thought I would —” crack, a barely audible whimper, and she squeezes him. “And I ended up here. And it’s just…it’s easy, and then it’s so fucking hard, and I’m just waitin’. I wanna know if it’s temporary, if the good is just a bit and then the rest comes in a lot, ‘cuz I’ve…fuck. Wouldn’t even be shocked, because it should be easy always for him. He’s just been through —“

It takes a lot to get him to talk that much, and it’s not the easiest thread to follow. But Benji tosses it out like a hook on the end of a line, and Saha will always pierce herself on the end and be pulled to shore, for him. 

“Benj. You have too.”

She sees the violent, sudden spasm of his throat on the noise strangled in it. Shuffles closer until their sides press together and she can sling an arm around his shoulders. 

“You have too, Benj. And that’s — that’s shit, yeah? Wish it weren’t that way. But listen to me. Xavier is…he’s quick.” She points fingers behind her head, wiggles them. “Fuckin’ sixth sense, you know? You’d be out here alone if that radar dinged wrong.” She squeezes at him, never failing to be shocked that this man is the hundred-pound soaking wet kid who blubbered at her if he didn’t get his way.

“I mean, you have gotta realize that sometimes people are here for you.” She scruffs the hair above his ear, uses that to press their temples together. “Get it from appa, I know, but you’re not meant to be perfect. You’ll get good and easy and you’ll get proper fuckin’ bad and hard, but that don’t mean you, like, didn’t deserve the good in the first place.”

Saha purses her lips, swallowing whatever else of the rant. She’s gotten out the important bits, anyway. 

“Benj?” She asks, when he’s quiet. He sniffles. “Aw, fuck. Sorry.”

“M’fine,” he tilts his head and rubs his face on her fluffy sweater. Dutifully, she howls with disgust, but does not pull away. “You fucking suck, do you know that?” 

“Sure fucking do.” Saha chirps. “Part of my job. That and worrying. Speaking of.” She inclines her head.

On cue, the woods at the far end of the property line part. The bushes spit Xavier out like he’s trudged from the bowels of the earth and it didn’t appreciate his taste.

Both siblings watch as he stumbles away from the thicket, scowl clear even from the distance. He plucks a twig from the crown of his head, tosses it aside with a stronger than necessary throw. Saha wouldn’t be surprised if he’s cursing into the wind.

“Fuck’s sake,” Benji sighs, yet there’s a smile woven delicately through. “If he’s got burrs in his hair again m’not lettin’ him hear the end of it.” 

Saha pictures Xavier whining as Benji brushes him out and laughs. When he joins in, she takes this as clear permission: she leaps a bit into the air as she stands, unable to hold back the big grin and bubble of excitement as she lifts a hand.

Xavier’s scowl disappears so quick that another raucous noise bursts out of her. Partially a chuckle, partially a hey! and partially his name. Sometimes he reminds her of a house lit up from the inside without the curtains drawn, his face the big transparent window hiding none of the furnishings. He throws both long arms in the air and waves in big sweeps. 

Then a glance over at Benji, and he drops them to cross over his chest.

“Ooh,” Saha snickers. “Looks miffed still.” 

“Dickhead.” Benji scoffs, but the smile in his voice grows louder. He’s stood as well, shuffled a step closer to her. He’s got goosebumps up his bare arms, and Saha’s eyes trail across the fading, blown-out lines of a pair of tattoos near his inner elbow. 

An old instant camera, the kind they used to walk to buy from Poundland — nick from Poundland, in his case. Her name in careful, loopy blocked letters in place of the camera brand is barely recognizable after ten-plus years. But it’s there. It’s there on his arm, in his skin, right next to a shitty and inaccurate bird sporting high-heels and a wonky beak. Maran, she knows, is the other time-blurred name Benji’d meticulously dotted down one of its spread wings. 

That’s not even the worst of it.

“C’mon,” Saha says, clearing her throat. She balances an elbow a bit meanly atop his head. He scowls up at her, still grinning, and pulls away. He used to shove her if she did that, when they were kids. He hasn’t roughhoused her in years — not since they were kids. Not since he enlisted. Benji would always be that gangly, gap-toothed boy. Clear sense of justice, utterly lacking the self-preservation that would prevent him from fighting dickheads twice his size. 

And the loss of that, the annoying little brother shove, fills her with the same inexplicable sense of mourning as the camera on his arm, the wonky-beaked bird. It’s the yearning homesickness of nostalgia, somehow weighed twice heavier. The them of before, sitting wherever old selves sit. Blurred nearly unrecognizable, but there.

Saha swallows down the sudden lump in her throat. “Go throw on an episode of that show he likes, yeah? When he comes in, you’ve got something to say so it’s not so fuckin’ awkward.“

Benji stares up at her, his dark eyes glossed with unshed tears. Then he yanks her into a quick hug. “You’re a genius.”

“Fuck’s sake,” she sighs, patting him on the back. “Finally some recognition.” Benji darts back into the house.

Just in time: Xavier’d been moving slow and hesitant, but now he rounds the edge of the pond in a jog. Bounds up the stairs, all five steps, with a big leap that nearly brings him crashing into her.

All of him is anxiety-tight, as he stands there. Not even the big toothy grin he’s plastered on can hide it. 

“Xavier.”

He glances over her shoulder towards the house. Relaxes. Shoulders hunched a bit in that reprimanded, lonely animal sort of energy. Makes her just as sad to see that as it does Benji’s tattoos, his near empty pack of cigarettes.

 She holds her arms out.

That posture corrects immediately. He lopes over all funny, that way that makes Benji roll his eyes and look away with a grin threatening. Xavier wraps her up in a hug. He’s cold on the outside from the wind, from traipsing around the woods, but still warm underneath. 

Saha envelops him in a nice tight one because they’ve not seen each other in a bit. And then, whisper-quiet,meant just for him: “I’ve well ragged ‘em out, ‘kay? Go give him one of these, too. Pout enough and we can get a proper breakfast out of it.” 

“Stop plotting.” Benji grumbles, suddenly standing in the doorway. Nosy.

“Fuck off,” Saha fires back, flipping him a finger between Xavier’s shoulders. “We are having a moment.” 

In the end, they watch four episodes of a shit visa-catfish-dating scheme show. Xavier suffers dutifully through the expense of many, many jokes. By the end of the last one, Benji has adjusted himself to drape himself over Xavier. It’s tense, when he moves, and then it all dissipates into that thoughtless normalcy when Xavier drops his forehead against Benji’s shoulder hard. 

Fuck you. Forgiven. Love you. She’s gotten good at picking up their patterns, because a disgustingly sweet amount of it happens non-verbally.

And in the end, Benji makes more than enough food for the three of them. So much of it that Saha’s send off includes a stack of full glass food containers. 

Better for the environment, Xavier says earnestly, and sometimes it really is hard to think about him hurting people at all. She thinks about how months ago, he’d been just about a burglar in this house. She thinks about what a successful break-in that had been — got a pleased, softened glimmer to his eyes, hands tucked into the pockets of one of Benji’s hoodies, and a warm bed out of the deal. 

*

I’m so fucking happy for him, Saha’s thinking as she drives off, eyes trained on the two of them stood in the door through her rearview. Xavier’s doing his two-armed wave, Benji’s got his middle finger outstretched nice and high so she can see it. I am so fucking happy for them.

And then she remembers suddenly that she’d forgotten to mention getting the business licensing sorted for a studio. That she’s been broaching the subject of stepping back with her agent. 

A hand drops from the wheel to her pocket, thumb tracing the corners of two business cards: Which one, ‘cuz I like the gold letters, personally, but the border is nice on this, she hadn’t asked. 

And there’s no bitterness in the next thought, because when she glances back in the mirror at them, she better understands her mum. Better understands the kids at the door returning empty plastic ware, borrow sweaters, CDs, and toys with their big, wet eyes.

 She loves them so fucking much, so desperately, and they deserve to have a proper fight. Deserve to work through one and come out better for it. There’s no bitterness, because it’s absolutely impossible not to light up chest-warm with abject joy when she spends time around those two fucking idiots.

But there is a tiny, distant, prickling stab of envy slid between her ribs like a knife:

Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone gentle their fingers into your hair and pluck out burrs?

#writing #ua #bp #sp #xw #bp x xw #core au

[internationalnewz]

What Is 'North vs South' Debate That Prompted PM's Tweet With Emojis

A DMK MP’s ‘Gaumutra states’ remark in Parliament has added fuel to the ‘North vs South’ debate that has been raging since the BJP’s poll wins in the heartland states of Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and Chhattisgarh and the Congress’s victory in Telangana.

The BJP’s critics claim it is the Hindi heartland where its ideology finds resonance, and that the southern part of the country has rejected the party. The BJP says the ‘North vs South’ debate is divisive and reeks of its rivals’ reluctance to accept poll setbacks.

‘North vs South’

Earlier this year, the Congress won the Assembly polls in Karnataka, snatching from the BJP its only foothold in the South. The Congress victory in Telangana consolidates its position in the South. Among the other southern states, Kerala and Tamil Nadu are held by the Left and the DMK, respectively. Andhra Pradesh, however, is ruled by the YSR Congress party, which has backed the BJP on crucial national issues.

For the BJP, victories in Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and Chhattisgarh put the heartland states completely under its control. Besides these three states, the party holds Maharashtra, Gujarat and Uttar Pradesh — all of immense political significance. The ‘North vs South’ construct also feeds off the cultural and linguistic differences, and higher GDP, higher literacy rates and lower population in southern states. Those pushing the ‘north vs south’ argument also point to migration from the northern states to southern states for employment.

The Flashpoint

As trends on counting day indicated that the BJP was winning in the heartland states and the Congress in Telangana, Congress leader Praveen Chakravarty posted on X, “The South-North boundary line getting thicker and clearer!” Congress MP Karti Chidambaram posted just two words “the South”. Several prominent critics of the BJP pointed to high literacy rates in the South and suggested that the BJP’s policies and ideologies only manage to convince votes in the northern part of the country. Others said the 2024 poll fight will be a fight between ‘north vs south’.

These posts sparked a huge row, with BJP leaders accusing Mr Chakravarty of pushing divisive politics. He deleted the post later, but the debate did not die down. Mr Chidambaram tried to steer clear of the row. On Mr Chakravarty’s post, he said, “I have not suggested anything like that. It is up to everybody’s imagination to interpret it any way they want it to. I am Indian, more than anybody else. All I said was ‘The South’, I do not know why people have to get very excited about it.”

PM Joins BJP Pushback

Top BJP leaders slammed Mr Chakravarty, chairman of Professionals’ Congress and the party’s data analytics department, for his ‘north vs south’ post. BL Santhosh, BJP’s national general secretary, said, “They always keep two cards ready. Now they have taken out second card.” Kerala BJP president K Surendran said that the Congress had adopted the “separatist narrative” after failing on their regular capsules of “Hindu party, caste politics, EVMs and freebies”.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi joined the debate with a post on X that took the Internet by storm, thanks to emojis used. Commenting on a journalist’s tough take on the ‘north vs south’ argument and other arguments being propped up to explain the Congress’s setbacks in the heartland, the Prime Minister wrote, “May they be happy with their arrogance, lies, pessimism and ignorance. But… Beware of their divisive agenda. An old habit of 70 years can’t go away so easily. Also, such is the wisdom of the people that they have to be prepared for many more meltdowns ahead.”

Row Reaches Parliament

The ‘North vs South’ debate was stoked by DMK MP DNV Senthil Kumar’s remark in Lok Sabha yesterday, when he described states in the Hindi heartland as “gaumutra states”. The comments drew strong criticism from the BJP, DMK chief and Tamil Nadu Chief Minister MK Stalin and ally Congress. BJP leaders said Mr Kumar’s remarks amounted to “hate speech” and warned that the voters will “wipe out” Opposition bloc INDIA — of which DMK is a part of — in the general elections next year. Union Minister Anurag Thakur slammed the INDIA bloc over the remarks, accusing them of insulting “Hindu, Hindi and Sanatan Dharma” and backing divisive ideas.

Drawing fire, the DMK MP has apologised. “Commenting on the results of the five recent state assembly elections, I have used a word in a inappropriate way. Not using that term with any intent, I apologise for sending the wrong meaning across,” he said in a post on X. The DMK said Mr Stalin pulled up Mr Kumar for his remarks and said the party had always insisted on the need for a dignified approach while making public remarks.

#north vs south debate #pm narendra modi emoji tweet #dmk leader remark

[hershelwidget]

It was a warm day in June. The sun was shining brightly. It was the last day of school. Then, I’d be done for good (unless I went to college). my classes seem to take forever. Then it’s graduation time. My mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, and younger sister are in the front row. My friend, Katherina maze, is called first. Then Fiona kettle, Mazza grave, and Anthony Brass. Then, my name, Timpani Ozona, is called. My family is cheering louder than ever before. In fact, my 4th grader sister, flute, even got her cheerleading squad to do a cheer for me! I was smiling wider than ever. I get to study to be a doctor, my dream job. I was excited, but might have gotten a bit carried away when I did a front flip in front of the audience. I go back to my spot, feeling awesome.” After everyone was called, me and my friends walked home. ‘How lucky!’ Kate exclaims. Her twin sister, Jane, replies in a know-it-all voice, “it takes skill, not luck.” Then she turns to me and congratulates me. When I get home, I get no break. We went out to Zina’s grill, my favorite. Then we went to get cake, where I bump into my friend celine. She congratulated me then says “tell me everything you learn, alright?” “I’ll try,” I reply. “I have to leave on august 1st. See you!” When we return home, I pack for college. It is in Madica, Cleveland. I’ll have to go live there. ✨S U D D E N L Y✨, my best friend hope pops up out of nowhere. “Agh! You scared me!” “We can be roommates!” She says excitedly. “Yes!” I say. The rest of the days go by in a blur. However, I can remember something late said. My old boyfriend, Dane, totally dumped me. I was sad for a while. Kate told me. “If you get an awesome boyfriend tell me!!!” Hope pipes up. Her little sister piper is there. She and my sis are BFFS. Three days later, I’m speechless. “Wow” I say, taking in all of Cleveland university of tequila. A guide shows us around. It’s amazing. I hear hope suddenly ask if we can be roommates. “You’ll have to talk to ms. Paleo.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have your books?” “Yes!” “Good. Your classroom is over here.” He says, pointing to a room marked ‘275’ I find two empty desks. We sit down. “Okay class, open to page 52 in the human body: anatomy and workings.” The days go by, and I learn a lot…

Five years later

It is late august. I am twenty-three years old, and I still keep a diary. I don’t know why. Today this morning I went for a walk, but something told me to bring my first aid kit. I brought a fold up stretcher (are injuries really that severe today???) and stuff to set a broken bone (I’m a total weirdo). I had been strolling happily for five minutes when I heard something interesting. I saw two TOD (tribe of darkness) boys pestering- no, threatening another. They were slowly inching closer so he’d fall off. I caught one word tho: “you’re so scared you belong on the human side haha” they laugh. Why are they laughing, I wondered, why are they pushing someone off Cliff Cleveland, which is 150,000 meters tall. I set up my portable elevator (tons of technology, right? It’s the year of 2109. I climb down it, but it’s too late. The sound of somebody falling echoes through the canyon. He took quite a fall. I pull out the stretcher, and go somewhere where my supplies are. I’m thought learning learning how to treat TOD people was completely worthless, but it paid off BIG TIME. thirty minutes or so later, while I’m fixing myself a cup of tea, I hear a noise. I quickly head back to the room. He looks confused. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do once he woke up. He starts squirming. He’s obviously trying to get out. He needs to stay 25 more minutes. I was warned about this. I also took psychology (I was a very lucky girl. Not many girls went to college. I had to get 100% on every assignment and had to do 15 sheets of extra credit every night. I had to work very hard.) I also learned that TOD people need to stay in bed for an hour. There were still twenty three minutes left.

It took me a few moments to realize EXACTLY what this was and I am losing my mind out here Anon (positive)

#god works fast but you work faster. amen #ask #anon #something tells me there's more :0

[crossover-enthusiast]

It was a warm day in June. The sun was shining brightly. It was the last day of school. Then, I’d be done for good (unless I went to college). my classes seem to take forever. Then it’s graduation time. My mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, and younger sister are in the front row. My friend, Katherina maze, is called first. Then Fiona kettle, Mazza grave, and Anthony Brass. Then, my name, Timpani Ozona, is called. My family is cheering louder than ever before. In fact, my 4th grader sister, flute, even got her cheerleading squad to do a cheer for me! I was smiling wider than ever. I get to study to be a doctor, my dream job. I was excited, but might have gotten a bit carried away when I did a front flip in front of the audience. I go back to my spot, feeling awesome.” After everyone was called, me and my friends walked home. ‘How lucky!’ Kate exclaims. Her twin sister, Jane, replies in a know-it-all voice, “it takes skill, not luck.” Then she turns to me and congratulates me. When I get home, I get no break. We went out to Zina’s grill, my favorite. Then we went to get cake, where I bump into my friend celine. She congratulated me then says “tell me everything you learn, alright?” “I’ll try,” I reply. “I have to leave on august 1st. See you!” When we return home, I pack for college. It is in Madica, Cleveland. I’ll have to go live there. ✨S U D D E N L Y✨, my best friend hope pops up out of nowhere. “Agh! You scared me!” “We can be roommates!” She says excitedly. “Yes!” I say. The rest of the days go by in a blur. However, I can remember something late said. My old boyfriend, Dane, totally dumped me. I was sad for a while. Kate told me. “If you get an awesome boyfriend tell me!!!” Hope pipes up. Her little sister piper is there. She and my sis are BFFS. Three days later, I’m speechless. “Wow” I say, taking in all of Cleveland university of tequila. A guide shows us around. It’s amazing. I hear hope suddenly ask if we can be roommates. “You’ll have to talk to ms. Paleo.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have your books?” “Yes!” “Good. Your classroom is over here.” He says, pointing to a room marked ‘275’ I find two empty desks. We sit down. “Okay class, open to page 52 in the human body: anatomy and workings.” The days go by, and I learn a lot…

Five years later

It is late august. I am twenty-three years old, and I still keep a diary. I don’t know why. Today this morning I went for a walk, but something told me to bring my first aid kit. I brought a fold up stretcher (are injuries really that severe today???) and stuff to set a broken bone (I’m a total weirdo). I had been strolling happily for five minutes when I heard something interesting. I saw two TOD (tribe of darkness) boys pestering- no, threatening another. They were slowly inching closer so he’d fall off. I caught one word tho: “you’re so scared you belong on the human side haha” they laugh. Why are they laughing, I wondered, why are they pushing someone off Cliff Cleveland, which is 150,000 meters tall. I set up my portable elevator (tons of technology, right? It’s the year of 2109. I climb down it, but it’s too late. The sound of somebody falling echoes through the canyon. He took quite a fall. I pull out the stretcher, and go somewhere where my supplies are. I’m thought learning learning how to treat TOD people was completely worthless, but it paid off BIG TIME. thirty minutes or so later, while I’m fixing myself a cup of tea, I hear a noise. I quickly head back to the room. He looks confused. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do once he woke up. He starts squirming. He’s obviously trying to get out. He needs to stay 25 more minutes. I was warned about this. I also took psychology (I was a very lucky girl. Not many girls went to college. I had to get 100% on every assignment and had to do 15 sheets of extra credit every night. I had to work very hard.) I also learned that TOD people need to stay in bed for an hour. There were still twenty three minutes left.

KJNDFKJDN

OH NO I'VE BEEN HIT

#Super Mario Bros #Paper Mario

[starboundsingularities]

It was a warm day in June. The sun was shining brightly. It was the last day of school. Then, I’d be done for good (unless I went to college). my classes seem to take forever. Then it’s graduation time. My mother, father, grandmother, grandfather, and younger sister are in the front row. My friend, Katherina maze, is called first. Then Fiona kettle, Mazza grave, and Anthony Brass. Then, my name, Timpani Ozona, is called. My family is cheering louder than ever before. In fact, my 4th grader sister, flute, even got her cheerleading squad to do a cheer for me! I was smiling wider than ever. I get to study to be a doctor, my dream job. I was excited, but might have gotten a bit carried away when I did a front flip in front of the audience. I go back to my spot, feeling awesome.” After everyone was called, me and my friends walked home. ‘How lucky!’ Kate exclaims. Her twin sister, Jane, replies in a know-it-all voice, “it takes skill, not luck.” Then she turns to me and congratulates me. When I get home, I get no break. We went out to Zina’s grill, my favorite. Then we went to get cake, where I bump into my friend celine. She congratulated me then says “tell me everything you learn, alright?” “I’ll try,” I reply. “I have to leave on august 1st. See you!” When we return home, I pack for college. It is in Madica, Cleveland. I’ll have to go live there. ✨S U D D E N L Y✨, my best friend hope pops up out of nowhere. “Agh! You scared me!” “We can be roommates!” She says excitedly. “Yes!” I say. The rest of the days go by in a blur. However, I can remember something late said. My old boyfriend, Dane, totally dumped me. I was sad for a while. Kate told me. “If you get an awesome boyfriend tell me!!!” Hope pipes up. Her little sister piper is there. She and my sis are BFFS. Three days later, I’m speechless. “Wow” I say, taking in all of Cleveland university of tequila. A guide shows us around. It’s amazing. I hear hope suddenly ask if we can be roommates. “You’ll have to talk to ms. Paleo.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have your books?” “Yes!” “Good. Your classroom is over here.” He says, pointing to a room marked ‘275’ I find two empty desks. We sit down. “Okay class, open to page 52 in the human body: anatomy and workings.” The days go by, and I learn a lot…

Five years later

It is late august. I am twenty-three years old, and I still keep a diary. I don’t know why. Today this morning I went for a walk, but something told me to bring my first aid kit. I brought a fold up stretcher (are injuries really that severe today???) and stuff to set a broken bone (I’m a total weirdo). I had been strolling happily for five minutes when I heard something interesting. I saw two TOD (tribe of darkness) boys pestering- no, threatening another. They were slowly inching closer so he’d fall off. I caught one word tho: “you’re so scared you belong on the human side haha” they laugh. Why are they laughing, I wondered, why are they pushing someone off Cliff Cleveland, which is 150,000 meters tall. I set up my portable elevator (tons of technology, right? It’s the year of 2109. I climb down it, but it’s too late. The sound of somebody falling echoes through the canyon. He took quite a fall. I pull out the stretcher, and go somewhere where my supplies are. I’m thought learning learning how to treat TOD people was completely worthless, but it paid off BIG TIME. thirty minutes or so later, while I’m fixing myself a cup of tea, I hear a noise. I quickly head back to the room. He looks confused. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do once he woke up. He starts squirming. He’s obviously trying to get out. He needs to stay 25 more minutes. I was warned about this. I also took psychology (I was a very lucky girl. Not many girls went to college. I had to get 100% on every assignment and had to do 15 sheets of extra credit every night. I had to work very hard.) I also learned that TOD people need to stay in bed for an hour. There were still twenty three minutes left.

god i'm so interested to see where this goes (gushing in the tags)

#I READ ''TIMPANI'' AND WENT ''OMG LIKE SUPER PAPER MARIO????'' #BUT THEN WENT NO..... THIS WOULDN'T BE THAT.... #BUT IT WAS #I LOVE THIS??? SO MUCH???? #PLEASE TELL ME THERE'S MORE

[cutlikediamonds]

060723

some good things happening actually, how lovely.

ive been 149 two days in a row now so i think im officially out of the 150s and im so fucking happy about it <3 also i slept in today and now my class is in a few hours and then after that its gonna be night and everyone in my house will be going to bed so they wont pester me about dinner, esp if i say oh i slept in and i have my class now ill eat eventually. this is the feeling of control that im always longing for when i say i wanna relapse, days like this where things just work out and i feel like a master manipulator and like my own god even when its truly not that deep and all im doing is,, undereating lmao. but idc. all that matters to me is my class and my weight and if i have a good day with both, nothing can beat that.

my best friend is going away to another state for a summer program, todays her going away party but i cant be there because of my own class. and i think her leaving is mentally representing a lot in my head because shes one of the healthiest friendships ive maybe ever had and shes just like objectively one of the best things in my life right now and has been for the past school year and obviously im gonna text her and probably visit her at some point but like, something about her leaving makes me feel like im allowed to be reckless and self-destructive again. that sounds unhealthy and it probably is, but the nice part is i dont feel anxious at all about her leaving so like woohoo for non anxious attachment.

i think im in the middle of some kind of journey right now, or several journeys that are paralleling each other. been doing tarot readings more often and they only confirm it lol. theres a lot that im unsure of but theres a lot that ive learned and im very sure of and i feel like im entering something new and i think for the better. even though i am relapsing with this, i dont know how to explain it. god i know how delusional i sound. theres no way im in a good place when im so obsessed with my body like this again, if anyone else was talking like this i would find it concerning but for me specifically it just makes sense yknow?

i ordered that book, the body keeps the score, about trauma and how it affects your body and how to help heal yourself through that. cuz thats what it really feels like, it doesnt feel like a relapse it feels like finally having the relationship with my body ive wanted to have. i like eating the same things over and over, i like eating the 'lighter' versions of things, i like eating things that other people find plain or boring, i dont care what people think of it thats how i feel comfortable eating. and i like to move my body, i like exercising and making it my routine and i do feel off when i skip it. is it really a relapse if im just listening to my body and my body happens to be a little bit weird about a few things? i dont know. i dont know.

but im excited for the book cuz i want to have a more like,, spiritual connection with my body. cuz thats the only route i know will make me actually develop habits that will last. if i only develop routines for weight loss or out of guilt i know they wont last or theyll backfire, but if i develop those routines because they make me feel calm and grounded and in control and at peace with my body and mind for once, i will absolutely stick to that. and i think its better to do that instead of leaving it up to habits like self harm or drugs to feel false senses of peace yknow?

i know how i sound. its confusing. i hear myself and sometimes think im right and sometimes think i sound delusional but i dont know. its been a while since i didnt know so much, since i was experimenting and open to being wrong so much - about my sense of self at least. i feel like i havent had much time to check in with myself like this, at least not at this very unique situation where im at home again and i feel like the real me from school and the old me from home are merging and now another new me is underway.

i dont know! we'll see what happens. i wanna lose this weight, i wanna be 140 for the fall so bad, and i wanna ace this class so bad without having mental breakdowns over it. thats what i want. to accomplish something physically and accomplish something mentally and do both without ever feeling like my soul and emotional well-being was sacrificed for it. thats what i feel like im stumbling through right now, thats the new journey i think.

its still hard, i have the self awareness to know i dont have a great history with this, especially surrounded by family members who are constantly unintentionally enabling such toxic thought patterns about eating but i also am aware enough to know that im fucking strong and ive been around this block a million times and i wont be held back anymore. i have this vision of myself, a future self, my ideal self, and its never felt so attainable.

[mitchelldailygames]

On Dungeon23 and Doing That Thing I Wasn't Going to Do

I think only one person follows me as I type this, so it’s the perfect time to talk about something very personal to me… MY SHAME! We’re going to start with Animal Crossing.

Animal Crossing

I’m talking about the one on Switch here, but I’ve had the same thing happen with every entry in that series I’ve played.

So, my mom and I started playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons around the same time. My mom loves this game. After initially getting talked into it by me and my brother in 2020, she is still playing it to this day. I’m pretty sure she has all the flowers. She definitely has all the fish and bugs. She meticulously designs her house and island. She’s playing the expansion. She’s watching videos online about it. She’s all in. Sometimes she misses a day or several days, but she’s always eager to hop back in when she gets the chance. If ttrpg design was her hobby, I bet she’d get her dungeon23 project done (more on that later).

I started playing in the early spring of 2020, pretty soon after it came out. I played it pretty much every day. I’m a teacher and we had gone to distance learning, so Animal Crossing breaks in the day were common, and then I’d pick it up again when my work day was done. Often when I turned it on I told myself, “I’ll just play for 15 minutes and knock out my daily to-do items.” I’d end up playing for hours, and it was easy, but it was bigger than I meant it to be. It was easy to pick up because I knew I could set it down if I needed to.

Then I missed a day. And then I missed more than one day in a row. No big deal, right? But I didn’t pick it up again. I wouldn’t pick it up again for months —it might have not been until my birthday in October— and it got to the point where I had an icky feeling when I thought about the game. And when I did pick it up again, the game had enough ways to remind me I had been gone for awhile, plus there was all the birthday stuff, that I found the game overwhelming. It wasn’t just a quick 15 minute thing. It sucked me in and held me as I cleaned up the mess I had left my island in. It would be a long time before I picked it up again.

At that time, I honestly was having a similar experience with life. I hustled at work, at staying safe in the midst of a pandemic, at staying connected in a time of disconnect, and then… burnout.

That’s all pretty dramatic for talking about a cute management sim with animals. I don’t really feel that way about the game any more. I don’t play it very often anymore, but it feels like a small thing to pick it up and mess around for a bit when I feel like it. I also know lots of people have had similar experiences with the game.

Pulling an Animal Crossing with Game Design

I started designing ttrpgs that would eventually be put out on Itchio around the time I put down Animal Crossing. That puts me just over two years designing things for people outside of my personal game groups to play. I have hustled with game design, putting out around 30 total projects, including small games, medium-sized games, adventures, and supplements, since starting. I have had projects I put together in an hour become more popular than I ever imagined and I have had projects I poured myself into for weeks flop. I make very little money off these games, but it’s not really about that right now. I am proud of all the games I’ve made. Even the flops. Especially the flops.

I flirt with general ttrpg design burnout from time to time. I over-extend myself and then end up with a dozen projects on my plate, none of which I feel like completing, none of which I have to complete. The burnout has been there, but never lasted long, cured by just jumping to a different project that excited me more. Then came dungeon23.

If you are on the bird app, you probably saw the controversy. I generally shrugged off the “sounds like a burnout machine” and “too much hustle culture” takes. See, I was going to do it totally voluntarily and be totally chill about it. And it was easy! I would finish what I had planned for the day in a matter of minutes. I was working ahead. I had so many plans. It was all bite-sized, easy-to-chew chunks. So, with hubris and an itching desire for validation in my heart, I posted about it, shared some of my early work, and generally got excited for it.

Then I missed a day. And now I’m doing an Animal Crossing. Or at least I was. Let today mark the last day of that nonsense.

I worked consistently until about the sixth day of January. I don’t really want to open the documents to check. Now it’s near the end of the 24th of January.

See, when I was playing Animal Crossing, I wasn’t playing anything else. When I first set Animal Crossing down, it took some time before I played another video game, because if I turned on my Switch I felt like I should be playing Animal Crossing. Eventually I had enough distance from my happy little island to turn on something else.

While I was working on dungeon23, I didn’t work on any other ttrpg projects. I honestly didn’t do much else. When I put down dungeon23, I didn’t feel like doing anything else, because opening up my laptop to think about games meant confronting the not doing of dungeon23. Oops. I did that thing I wasn’t going to do. I let dungeon23 get to me. I felt ashamed about dropping it and not finishing another thing. I felt overwhelmed thinking about it. I felt embarrassed for having talked publicly about what I was going to do with it.

But I know that’s not the way it has to be. Who cares if I make 365 rooms of a dungeon before the end of the year? Only me. I’m working on it being nobody. Will I catch up at some point? Will I reignite the spark? Maybe. But right now I’m working on other stuff and it feels good. I’m lovingly confronting that ickiness in my gut. I’m talking myself into letting go.

Sometimes the very hobbies we do for joy start bringing pressure and shame. It’s easy to hustle at anything. It’s easy to feel proud of that hustle. It’s easy to feel bad about slowing the pace. But I didn’t get into this hobby to pat myself on the back, to make 100 games, to complete every game jam or challenge ever. I got into because I had ideas that wanted out. That's where I'm going from here.

In the spirit of this not being a hustle but a hobby, I'm not editing this. I'm going to go make dinner.

--Daily

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpg #dungeon23 #animal crossing #burnout #ttrpg community

[dearlordsanta]

Whoops...

So, in my last post several weeks ago, I said I was going to try harder to get on here more regularly and post on the off chance that it helps anyone. I've been distracted lately, so I haven't been. I feel like I need to now, not just for the people who might be reading, but for me.

First things first, why I've been distracted lately. My husband has been well for a few weeks in a row! Almost the longest he's been well in three years. I've been taking full advantage of it! We spent his first week going out a little bit then, the second week, he said he wanted to go visit our best friends for a short trip (they live about five hours away). So, we found a sitter for the puppies and went for a visit. Our friends took us to Disneyland! I haven't been since I was about 17 and my husband hasn't been since he was 10! We had a great time hanging out with our friends. I'll tell you what though, we were BEYOND ready to get the puppies back when we came home. They had fun at the sitter's house but were ready to be home.

We are now starting on week four of good health. Don't get me wrong, he's had a few days when he wasn't doing great, but he'd bounce back and be okay the next day. I think he's at the point now where he's feeling like he's about to regress. I feel like he's scared to leave the house because he hasn't left since we got back from visiting our friends and that was a week and a half ago. I have a work outing tomorrow and he seems pretty excited to come with me to that, so hopefully, he comes and has a good time. I think that will make him feel a little easier about going out.

Today, I miss being in therapy. I never thought I would say that. I felt like I was finally making progress and then my job canceled their contract with the company I saw my therapist through, and I couldn't afford to keep it up. My husband woke me up after I had a really rough night of sleep (I woke up a ton and don't feel well rested). He had good intentions, usually, when I sleep too long, I get a migraine, so he was just trying to help, but it made me angry. I didn't want to get up yet. Then he told me one of our dogs had peed and had diarrhea all over the "puppy bathroom". Since he's been well, I thought he'd clean it up or at least offer to help me clean it up. That was too much to hope for. Even though he's been well, he's still not helping with anything. I would even be okay with it if he was getting out more because at least he's making the best out of his good days, but he's not. He's been sitting at home, playing games. He's not going on my daily walks with the dogs, helping load or unload the dishwasher, or even taking out the trash. He even had the gall to tell me that we needed to move the piece of art I bought out of the entryway. This is true, but our apartment is a mess because he never helps clean it and gets upset when I move his stuff. Right now, he's got music equipment everywhere and we need to clean the living room, so I have a place to move the art to. He knows this. If he thinks I'm going to cave and clean up by myself, he'll be in for a rude awakening because I WILL get rid of all his stuff. That sounds mean, but I talked to him about it several times. "While you're well, can you please put all your music stuff on the shelf we got for it? I'll even clean up everything else, you just need to put away the stuff you don't want me touching." He says he will, but then he doesn't ever do it. When I ask him when he's doing it, he just says, "I'll do it. I'm going to do it."

Today I am frustrated. Today I am not a good wife. Today I need to get away, but I have nowhere to go. So, I come here. I vent it all out and hope I do better tomorrow. Today, I just want to cry or scream. I am allowing myself today to be frustrated that this is where my life is today. I am overpaying for a crappy apartment because I can't afford to move. My husband is sick. I had to give up on my dream of being a mom. I have to do everything alone. Pay the bills, do all the chores, adjust my schedule to take my husband places because he's afraid to go alone. I miss out on sleep. I worry, I stress, I cry...I don't know how I'll make this better. I just know that I need to.

I'm sure I sound like a whiner today. I just need a day to feel sad and then I'll be fine again. I do the best I can. I am only human.

#OnlyHuman #caregiver #wifeofadiabetic #type1 #gastroparesis #chronicfatiguesyndrome #journalventing #rebellionsarebuiltonhope

[mubal4]

The Journal Journey – Part 78

 There is a podcast topic that did come to mind today, and the intent was to stay consistent w/ another session for 3 Fridays in a row. However, it has been a few weeks since the last JJ and I wanted to write a bit. These entry’s come from several days in May 2017. Credits are giving where noted.

 Tony Robbins, “Don’t ask for things to be easier, as to be better.” – This is one that hit me hard when I first heard it years ago and continues to be on top of mind for me. Why? Because years ago, I so wanted things in my life to be easier. I didn’t have the self-awareness to understand that I had to be better. I had searched for ways to make things easier and in some circumstances I still do. I think there may be some areas of our lives that can and should be easier. But I wanted those areas in my life that were providing opportunities to grow, learn, and created moments of discomfort, to be easy. Again, didn’t have the awareness to realize it at the time that these were those situations that were actually making me better. I was just looking for that “easy way out” solution. Interesting that in some areas of my life now I look to make my life more difficult, and I think on purpose. 😊 For those of us that have teenagers, they will be the ones that call you out in doing things the “hard way,” especially when it relates to technology. But this another one of those growth moments for us “experienced” folks. Yes, in today’s age there are better ways, and easier ways, to do things that used to be more time consuming or inefficient. Are we able to accept some of these opportunities to learn something new, or do something different or will we just, “do it the way we always did it?”

 TR again, “Any fact facing us is not as important as your attitude toward it.” – This goes for non-facts too; anything really. Whatever the circumstance, situation, or “discomfort” that we are experiencing can and will be affected by how we see it and react to it. How we perceive a situation, positively or negatively, tends to build on itself. I struggle with this sometimes, take for example with loss. You lose your job, home, money, partner, or a loved one. It sucks and yes, it can be very, very challenging to see the sliver lining in those circumstances. I believe that is normal and there is grace for grieving, but I also do believe, that when we’ve had time to heal, it gives us the ability to let it pass and create an opportunity for positive reflection. Sometimes my initial reaction and attitude toward a circumstance I am experiencing isn’t great. We are perfectly imperfect and that will happen at times. What’s wild is that same situation that pissed me off yesterday, could not have an impact on me today. It can all be dependent on where we are with our energy and journey that particular moment. Whatever your reaction or attitude, it is always good to reflect on it, and we will. I tend to do it when I know I didn’t react in the best manner. There are times I must ask forgiveness and maybe create a new behavior to remind me not to take that approach. It is an ever-evolving practice and relates to the first quote, a chance to work on being better.

 Keeping w/ Tony Robbins, “Change your ‘have to’ to ‘get to.’” – Another one I like from him is, “change your shoulds to musts.” This lends itself to attitude as well and again goes back to that first quote of being better. I will take this back to running and the many days where I’ve uttered, “I have to get my run in today.” What type of energy and attitude do I create by saying, “I get to go get my run in now?” You’ve heard me mention it many times, can’t think of a time that I’ve finished a run and it didn’t make me feel good. Just thinking of this one too, “I have to pay bills.” “What about I get to pay bills?” Sure, it isn’t sexy or exciting, but could we feel grateful that we have the abundance to pay the bills today and afford the essentials? Yeah, I know it can sound a bit corny, but it is a simple manipulation of our thoughts and mind. Once again, I want to be transparent, I am not walking through my journey skipping around believing that things don’t suck at times, and I don’t want to do stuff. Moments everyday my friend, but again, with reflection, the simple change in thought can be a simple change in attitude which can change our behaviors. Notice I said simple, but it certainly isn’t easy!

 We will close it with this one by Antarctic Mike, “Humans are born and bred to be more, do more, and become more.”

#thejournaljourney RFP keepmovingforward backinmyday everevolvingpractice attitudeiskey