#i used to in like. middle school... but those were young and innocent times

[heavenlyredux]

my oc marsile

#i have not posted in so long lol and this is what i have to show #my art #my ocs #artists on tumblr #idk how to tag for oc art...? i never post my ocs anymore #i used to in like. middle school... but those were young and innocent times

[faefictions]

Snow in Indiana

Eddie Munson x Reader

5.7k words

Eddie has spent the past decade thinking about the pen pal he lost touch with, but fate has a funny way of bringing people back together when they need it most

Warnings: family death (unedited bc it is 3am and I have been working on this for hours)

“Dear Eddie, 

Does it Snow in Indiana?” 

He had read the beginning of the note hundreds of times by now. He had memorized how each individual letter had been written and slightly smudged. He knew the entire contents of the letter by heart, but that never stopped him from coming back to it from time to time. 

“My grandma hasn’t told me much about Hawkins, just that it’s just like home. Except it’s on the other side of the country. Grandma likes the snow, so I hope you say yes.” 

Something about the innocent nature of your writing calmed him down when things got rough. He had received the note in the middle of August at the beginning of 6th grade. Your grandmother had just moved across the country, and she just so happened to be the Librarian at Eddie’s new middle school. She had told both of you that the other could use a friend, even if you were thousands of miles apart. She also insisted that being pen pals would improve both of your lackluster reading and writing skills. She meant well. 

“Can I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to write you a letter when grandma called and told me I should. My teachers say I’m not good at writing anyway. But Grandma also said maybe you and I could be friends. And I think I would like that.” 

Some of your words had been crossed out with pen, either from misspellings or second thoughts on phrasing. Eddie had stared at the paper for so long that he even knew what was underneath those scribbles. 

When the snow started coming down each winter, it was hard for him to not want to keep the letter on him at all times. The opening line of your first letter to him always floated into his head with the first snowflakes. 

He had written you back to assure you that it does snow in Indiana, that he too had troubles with pleasing his teachers with his school work, and of course, that he too would like to be friends. 

That was over 10 years ago now. He had never met you, never heard your voice, never learned what you looked like (besides the poorly drawn picture you had included for him one time) but you had been a part of him for his middle school years. 

The letters started slowing down in the 8th grade. You had told him you were nervous for high school, that you’d heard that kids were meaner there. The last letter he had sent you was in the summer before both of your freshman years. He hated that he couldn’t remember what he had said, what his last words to you were. All he knew was that he wished you luck for your first day. 

Then the letters stopped completely. After months of checking mailboxes impatiently, he got the hint and gave up. 

At the age of 24, he wishes he sent another letter. He wishes he got some closure on why you stopped writing. He had always wondered if it had been something he had said, or maybe you had just found new friends in high school and decided you didn’t need him anymore. 

He was embarrassed to admit that it was his first heartbreak. So he refused to admit it even happened to anyone he knew now. 

He tucked the old letter in his pocket as another patron entered the diner. He had picked up a second job as the night cook in hopes of saving up enough to to move out of the trailer with Wayne. It had been months of helping Wayne with bills now, and he was just barely starting to see the hard work pay off in his savings account. 

He peeked out the pass through window to get a glimpse of the first customer they’d had in the last hour and a half. The snow had been coming down hard, and it was preventing the already few people who would be coming in to the diner at this hour from showing up. He wasn’t surprised to see the young woman, somewhere around his age, follow the waitress quickly to the booth in the corner and sit down. He was, however, surprised to see no new car in the small lot outside. He hadn’t seen headlights arrive or depart to drop her off. The snow that has accumulated on her hair, even thought it has been covered with a hood, was making him think she had walked a distance to get here. If the counter hadn’t been blocking his view, he would have seen the bottom of her pants completely soaked through from the snow piled outside to confirm his suspicion. 

“Can you start on a stack of pancakes, Ed?”

He nodded at the waitress, Judy, who wasn’t usually one to whisper like she was now. She rushed off to the phone in the back office, which did nothing but pique the interest in Eddie’s under stimulated brain. 

Curiosity got the best of him, so he made his way out of the kitchen quickly, grabbed a mug from the counter and the full coffee pot, and made his way over the girl in the corner. 

You had been staring out the window, and Eddie recognized the look as he approached. You were doing your best to hold yourself together. He was used to this kind of customer at this time of night. People who really needed the company, who had nowhere else to go, often found their way here after midnight. But there was something different about you, and it wasn’t just that he had never seen you around town. No matter how hurt he could tell you were inside, you did your best to keep up a facade when you saw him approaching. 

“Coffee?” he offered, less poised than he had intended.

“Please,” you smiled up at him as he set down the mug and poured. He allowed himself to take you in, and that’s when he saw the snow still caked on to your sneakers, and the damp cloth stretching from the hem above your ankle nearly up to your knees. There was snow yet to melt from head to toe, and you were trying your best not to shake from the cold. 

“You walk here?” He tried to make light conversation as he chuckled, but you weren’t as chipper. 

“My car broke down about a mile up the road. Walking was my only option,” You tried to keep the smile on your face, but Eddie saw the look, almost like a shunned child. As if you were embarrassed by what you had done, preparing for the lecture or consequence coming your way. 

Before he could say anything, Judy returned from the back office. 

“Tow truck won’t be running ’til morning, darlin’. But I left a message telling them you’d call first thing,” Judy gave you a halfhearted smile, before turning to Eddie, “Where’s that stack I told you to start on?” 

“Right, sorry,” he quickly excused himself back to the kitchen, but did his best to listen for the conversation you were having on the other side of the room. 

“Where are you staying tonight? I can try to get you a ride there.” 

“My grandma’s house, well it used to be I guess. I think it’s just a few more miles into town, I’m not a hundred percent sure though, I’ve never been out here.” 

“Used to be your grandma’s house?”

“Yeah, she, uhm… passed away not long ago. Hard to own something six feet under,” you tried to joke, but failed to make either of you laugh, “Funeral service is next week, I came early to pack up her things. Guess I chose the wrong day to drive in though.” 

“I’d say. Well let me see what I can do, do you have the address?” 

“Yeah, it’s right…” you trailed off as you checked your pocket, slowly coming to realize that you had left the torn piece of paper with the address written on it on your passenger seat, right on top of the map you were struggling to follow in the heavy snow. “Guess I left it in the car.” 

Just as the realization was threatening to break you, Eddie came and set a fresh stack of 3 pancakes in front of you. 

“You eat up, it’s on the house. And let me know if you remember any of that address,” Judy smiled at you and walked into the back before you could refuse the free pancakes.

Eddie watched you for the next hour through the pass through window. No other customers came in, so he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. It was nearing 4 am, the end of Eddie’s shift. He had cleaned his station in the kitchen faster than he ever had and made his way out to your table to check on your before he left. 

“Any luck with that address?”

“Don’t think I’d remember it with a gun to my head. I might as well walk back and grab it.” 

“Not a chance. My shift is over in a few minutes. Why don’t I drive you back to your car, you can grab it, and I can get you there.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“No need to be polite. You’ve had a rough enough night, let’s just get you home.”

You didn’t correct his phrasing. This was the furthest you had ever been from home, and you were sure as hell feeling that in this strange diner with barely a concept of where you were. The snow falling outside only exacerbated your feeling of being out of place. 

Eddie rushed to the back to grab his belongings and wish Judy a good night, letting her know he was going to get you out of there, before he made his way back out to you. You had brought the hood of your sweatshirt back up, and were staring out at the snow silently. He approached cautiously and gently spoke, “Let’s get out of here,” before guiding you through the door. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.” 

You paused at his name, but he was too busy trying to find his van through the wall of snow to notice. 

“I’m y/n, thanks again for helping. You and Judy are both angels.” 

He smiled at your name for a moment, but kicked the idea from his mind. 

Both of you thought of the letters you had sent all those years ago, unaware that the person climbing into the same car as you was in fact the person you were reminiscing on. 

Eddie shook the snow out of his hair like a wet dog before starting the van. 

“Left out of the lot?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“You know, I’ve helped fix up a few cars in my day. I could take a look under the hood for you when we get there if you’d like.”

“You’re already helping enough, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind. Can’t hurt just to take a look.” 

The glance and smile he shot you made your stomach do flips. In the low light of the passing, sparse streetlights, he looked incredibly handsome. Your mind wandered back to what you thought your Eddie looked like back in middle school. You had sent him a drawing of yourself, mostly as a joke since your drawing skills as a 12 year old weren’t amazing, but you were also trying to send him the message that you desperately wanted to know him better. Of course, when your grandmother had insisted you become pen pals with a strange boy, you weren’t too happy about the idea, but as time went on, the sound of a friend sounded too nice. You hadn’t had many of them in elementary school, and it concerned your family. But as your friendship with Eddie grew with each letter, you found yourself hoping for something, anything, more. Now, as an adult, you blame your adolescent brain for the silly crush. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him from time to time, still wondering what he might be doing in that moment, or if he is happy. But most of all, you wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“You doing alright over there?” he asked you over the quiet metal playing over the speakers. He was playing it at about 1% of the volume he usually listened at, in an attempt to not scare you off just yet. 

“Yeah, just a long night,” you smiled back at him. He nearly assured you that you could be real with him, that he could tell that something more was bothering you, but he worried that would be coming on too strong. And before he could find a way to say it without sounding creepy, you pointed out your car on the side of the road with a sigh. 

It had only been a couple hours since you had left it, but it was nearly buried in the snow. 

“That’s a little more difficult to check out,” He chuckled as he pulled to the side of the road, lighting up your car with his headlights. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just go grab the address and we can get going,” you tried not to sigh as you opened the passenger door. 

“Wait a second,” Eddie reached for your hand before you could make it out of the car, “I’m fine with taking a look, and I can grab the address too. No need for you to get cold again.” 

“I already walked a mile in the snow earlier, I don't think a minute out there will kill me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay in here if you ask me.”

“Fine, but skip looking under the hood. I can call the tow truck when I wake up, it should be fine until then. Even if you could fix it with nothing, I don’t think I should be driving any more today.”

“Long trip?”

“Since 8 am. I really just want to get to sleep.”

“Deal,” he smiled again before stretching his hand out to you, “Keys?”

You reluctantly let him have the keys to go grab the paper, but not before trying to assure him you were capable of grabbing it yourself. You watched him as he rushed as fast as he could through the near foot of snow, grabbed the address, and rushed back to the van. 

“You didn’t lock it,” you stated, nervous to not to sound nagging. 

“I know, do you have a bag or something I can grab for you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, where is it?”

“It’s in the back seat on the passenger side. It’s a small black suitcase.”

“You got it, here, take this,” he handed you the torn paper with your grandmother’s previous address written on it in a handwriting that would have been familiar to him, had he glanced down at it. 

He ran back to grab your suitcase, and made sure to double check that the doors had locked after he shut them before he rushed back to the van. He threw your suitcase in the backseat before jumping back into the drivers seat. 

“I don’t know how you lasted a mile in that, I’m already freezing,” he complained, but his smile still refused to leave his face. 

“I’m sorry,” you tried yet again to apologize. 

“Don’t be,” he paused to look you in the eye to assure you that he wasn’t upset in the slightest, “Now let’s see that address. Hopefully I actually know where it is.”

You handed him the paper, and even in the low light, you couldn’t miss the way his face fell, even for a millisecond. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling all night, but the second he saw the paper, it faltered for just a moment. 

“Everything ok?” 

He looked up at you, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. 

“Yeah, uhm, this is on the other side of town though. It’s a bit of a drive, is that ok?”

“I’d rather drive a little further than stay in my car tonight. So yeah, it’s fine,” you giggled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry or annoyed with you like you thought. 

But he had seen the handwriting. He would know it anywhere, yet he still wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the coincidences. You were just a girl with similar handwriting, and the same name. You weren’t his y/n. He could never be so lucky. 

“So, what brings you to town?” he asked after a moment of driving. 

“It isn’t the happiest story, and I don’t want to be a bummer.” 

“I’m nosey, and that does nothing to curb my interest,” he joked. He just needed to prod, he needed to know if he was being crazy. 

“My grandma passed… about a week ago now. Her funeral is next week, but someone needed to clean up her house for the service, and no one else wanted to make the drive out.” 

“Do you have any other family in the area to help out?”

“No, she only had 2 sons. My dad and my uncle, and they’re both back west. She moved here, like, 12 years ago now I think. Maybe 13.” 

Just another coincidence. He’s not this lucky. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t heard that yet. Just stressed adults complaining about how traveling in the winter was too much of a hassle. Hearing those words, from a near stranger no less, was enough to make you tear up. And Eddie could hear that in your voice when you thanked him, but he chose not to comment on it. 

“So,” you began after a moment of awkward silence, “How long have you lived in Hawkins?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Uh… It has its moments,” he tried his best to hide his discontent with the town. If it weren’t for his uncle, his band, and his small group of friends, he would have ran for the hills by now. He was too attached to them to run… and also lacking the funds to do so. 

“That good huh?” you laughed. 

“Hate to sound like an ass, but there are definitely plenty of cons that outweigh the pros for me half the time. But that’s not everyone’s experience.”

“Grandma seemed to like it, but she also liked it back home, and it’s no cake walk back there.” 

You almost spat the end of your sentence, and although it wasn’t spoken explicitly, Eddie understood. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing the conversation down. It’s just been a really long week.”

“I believe it,” He paused, “So how long are you going to be staying in town then?”

“I have no idea. Rumor is Grandma left me the house. And even if she did…. I’m sorry, I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours now, and driving for over 15 of them. I know you really don’t need to hear any of this.” 

You started to make your body as small as possible, hyper aware of how loudly you had been speaking, and how riled up you were getting. Your father would have hated to see it. But not Eddie. 

“No, keep going. Like I said, I’m nosey, and it sounds like you could use someone to talk to about this.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agreed nonchalantly, unaware how much it meant to you. 

“My grandma and I were really close before she moved. She didn’t get along with either of her sons, but she was the world to me as a kid. And my dad put up no effort to even reach out to her in the past decade, but he expects all of her stuff to be left to him, and my uncle wants the same. But my mom told me that one of them had reason to believe that she left it all to me. I don’t even know where they heard it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, I promise. I just don’t know what to do about the two grown men that she apparently left out of the will if that’s true, and how mad they’re going to be at me.” 

“They wouldn’t be mad at you.” 

“You don’t know my dad,” you scoffed. You knew damn well that the man wasn’t afraid of throwing a tantrum, especially if it came to money. And he wouldn’t care if you were the one getting hurt in the process. 

“What would they have to be mad at you for though? For your Grandma loving you enough to leave you something to start your life on? How is that your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault, they just care that they get their share. If it’s left to me, I might as well just divvy it up before they say anything.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I just don’t want to have any issue with them.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s not fair to you.” 

“You really need to stop being so nice, you’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled, genuinely fighting back the tears as you spoke. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled back. He took a subject before continuing. “Have you seen the house? Like have you ever visited?”

“No, actually. Who knows, maybe it’s a real fixer upper and I’d be better off passing it on to my uncle,” you giggled, and that put the smile back on Eddie’s face. 

“If I didn’t mess up the address, it should just be in this next neighborhood.”

You kept saying that all you wanted was to get some rest after your long day, but now that you were talking to Eddie, you didn’t want the drive to end. The disappointment hit you like a rock as he pulled into the driveway of your grandmothers old house, but the feeling quickly turned to something else as you looked out the window to see the beautiful 2 story house with large trees on either side. 

“So much for the fixer upper theory,” Eddie said with a whistle, but you were speechless. This was much more than you had been anticipating, much nicer than you had spent your younger years picturing every time you missed your grandma. 

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just taking it in,” you chuckled nervously, still staring at the house. 

“Why don’t we get you inside?” He said, reaching in the back for your suitcase. You put a hand gently on his arm to stop him, and he looked up to see your nearly empty stare, still on the building in front of you. 

“Can you give me just a minute? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” 

“No, it’s fine… Are you ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, It just,” you trailed off for a moment, “I hadn’t seen her in years. Had no idea what her house looked like, or what she looked like anymore. I got letters, I got calls, but… Part of all this didn’t feel as real. Going in there, that’s real.” 

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s fine. I just need a second.” 

“Have you ever lost anyone before?”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head as you moved your eyes from the house to him. 

“Let me walk you in. You shouldn’t be alone for that.” 

You looked back at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded your head. 

Eddie carried your suitcase through the front door, and you both kicked off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. You took a deep breath before reaching for the light switch. Eddie sensed your hesitation as your fingers hovered. He took the opportunity to grab the fingers of your other hand. It gave you enough courage to turn on the light in the entry way. 

The furniture was mostly unfamiliar. You could see a few pieces in the living room that you had remembered from your childhood, and the sense of nostalgia calmed you. Eddie let you walk ahead of him, letting go of your hand as you ventured further into the room. Slowly but surely, you made your way to a wall on the other side of the room. It was covered in pictures, new and old, of your grandma with family and friends. You recognized yourself in plenty of them, but the newer ones were the ones that you couldn’t stop looking at. She looked so much older that you had remembered, but still had the youthful glow to her that you had attributed to her mischievousness. No matter how old she got, how wrinkled her face grew, or how gray her had and gotten, you still recognized her. Part of your heart began to ache for not knowing her as she was before she passed. It had been so long. 

You felt Eddie approach you from behind, and you expect him to say something nice, or encouraging. But he didn’t. He was surprisingly quiet. You turned to make sure he was alright, but he didn’t seem fine. He was staring at one of the photos on the wall, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

“Are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, still white as a sheet as he tore his eyes from the photo to look at you. He barely shot you a half smile before looking back up at the pictures. You took a step back to stand next to him. 

“I just remembered that she worked at the middle school when she moved here. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you like her?” you tried asking after waiting for him to say anything more. 

“Yeah, she introduced me to my best friend.”

“Me too,” you smiled at the memory of your old pen pal. 

“Someone back home?”

“No, actually. I probably shouldn’t refer to him as that still. We haven’t spoken in… years actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, finally peeling his eyes away from the photos on the wall. 

He should have said more, but he didn’t know what else to say. This was her. He was in shock. The girl he had spent the last decade wondering about had wandered into his diner. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, he felt like he could physically hear them, and it was hard to focus on anything you had possibly said. But luckily, you weren’t saying much. 

He followed you like a ghost as you explored the first floor of the house. You were happy you had arrived before anyone else. You had the chance to see the house how she had left it, how she had lived in it. It gave you a sense of closure you weren’t going to get otherwise, it felt as if you were getting a sense of knowing her once again. You were caught up in it until you saw a clock on the wall, reading nearly 5 am. Realization hit you that you were keeping Eddie, and a sense of guilt washed over you. You turned to find him, with a bit of color returned to his face. 

“It’s really late, I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure you want to get some rest too after your shift.” 

He took a second, before asking, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” And you hesitated before nodding. 

“Honestly, the roads are pretty bad out there. I could stay on the couch, help you figure out your car in the morning. How does that sound?”

He way have been a complete stranger just hours ago, but you really did feel like you could trust him. So you smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll go find some blankets for you,” you smiled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie didn’t expect you to come back for a while. You were bound to find your grandmothers bedroom and need to look around for a while. He made his way back to the living room while he waited. He stared at the wall again, but not in shock this time. Now that he knew was 24 year old you looked like, he desperately want to see what 12 year old you looked like. He found a picture near the middle of the wall, of a young girl smiling at the camera. It was the only photo on the wall without your grandmother in it. She had your eyes, had your smile, but most importantly, she actually looked like the drawing he had received all those years ago. You weren’t as bad of an artist as you’d thought. Eddie tried not to grow emotional staring at the photo. He only tore his eyes away from the picture of younger you when he heard you making your way back down the stairs.

Before you could reach Eddie, you paused by the window next to the back door, blankets in hand. The snow coated the back yard, reflecting the light from the back porch into the sky. You began to tear up, just as Eddie approached to take the blankets from you. He saw one of the first tears fall down your cheek, and quickly, but gently put an arm around you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… Is this what it looks like every winter?” you asked, looking up at him with misty eyes. 

“For parts of it, yeah. Why?”

“Grandma loved the snow,” was all you could reply before looking back out at the yard. 

He contemplated it for a second, fought himself on whether or not this was the right moment to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“I told you she’d like it here” 

A moment passed as you processed what he had said. You gasped quietly, quickly turning your head to face him. He looked nervous, as if he had just handed his heart to you on a platter, waiting to see if you would reject it. 

“Eddie?” you asked cautiously, and you both knew what the question really was. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, still nervous and unable to read what you were thinking. 

“You stopped writing,” was all you could get out before another tear dropped. 

“What?”

“Y-you stopped writing,” you repeated, beginning to choke on your breathes as you spoke. 

He nearly panicked as he tried to reply. 

“Y/n, w-what do you mean? I only stopped writing when you stopped replying.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” you couldn’t stop looking at him, another tear dropping down your cheek. Your exhaustion was exaggerating your emotions, but you may have felt the same regardless. You had waited 12 years for this moment. 

“Yeah. Why don’t we go sit down,” he smiled at you, before herding you towards the couch. 

“Y/n,” he spoke softly as he crouch in front of you, one hand resting on each of your knees as you sat on the couch, “What do you mean I stopped writing?”

“I sent you a letter, you never replied.”

“That’s impossible, I waiting for months to hear back from you. There’s no way I missed a letter from you.”

“No, I sent one, and I waited, but you never replied. You broke my heart Eds,” you quietly began to sob, filled with too many mixed emotions. 

Eddie quickly sat next to you on the couch and pulled you to his chest to comfort you the best he could, but he was still confused. He had checked his own mailbox, his neighbors mailboxes, other houses in town with the same street number as his trailer. This didn’t add up. He quietly shushed you as he thought. 

“What did the last letter say?” he asked as you began to calm down just slightly. He had half the collection of your letters memorized, but especially the first and last. He would know if he had read it if you described it. 

“It was before Freshman year, I told you how scared I was that all the kids were going to be mean. I was so afraid that I was going to get singled out for still having no friends, and I waited for months to hear back from you. But you never wrote back. You were my only friend, and you stopped writing.”

“No, sweetheart, I would never,” he sighed as his heart dropped. He got that letter, he replied to it. Which meant that she never got his last letter. Neither of them had stopped writing on purpose, they had both assumed the other had given up. But he had sent out one last letter that was unaccounted for.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me,” he gently guided you to look up at him, “I promise you, I wrote back. I don’t know what happened to it, but I never would have stopped writing like that. I thought you had just ignored my last letter.”

“You wrote,” you said quietly, and Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a question, or if you were trying to reassure yourself. 

“I did, I promise,” he whispered as he swept a tear off your cheek with his thumb. 

And though you still needed to know what happened to his letter, and you had had one of the longest days of your life, nothing mattered more to you in that moment than leaning in, slowly. You took a second, pausing right before reaching his lips so he could pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was a quick kiss, but it was gentle and sweet. Eddie didn’t try to pull you in for another, but he didn’t want to part as you pulled away. 

It took him a second to open his eyes again, but when he did, he was smiling just as big as you. 

“You ok?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night. But unlike every other time you had answered, this time you told him the truth. 

“I am now.”

(may or may not be already trying to figure out a part 2 for this, depending on if people like it <3 )

@embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3 @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @canthavetoomuchchaos @whenshelanded @starlitlakes @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @g0thdraculaura @celestcies

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #line cook!eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine

[ooshu]

when mark was six, he told you he loved you.

you never really grasped what ‘love’ meant during those early, innocent times. your parents say they love you whenever you bid goodbyes going to school. your grandma used to tell you she loves you because you’ve been a good kid. so you told him “i love you, too!” with a grin plastered on your face, and mark felt his face go warm, a slightly pink flush on both of his cheeks.

when mark was eight, he said he wanted to be a writer.

he fully pledged it in his middle school yearbook a year before. an author, he wrote. you challenged him a bit. “write something for me then!”. young mark, full of determination, handed you a piece of paper at the end of the class. Roses are reds, Violets are Blue, …… I guess …… I love you ! - it was unfinished. cue the excessive punctuation marks and misplaced capitalization of letters, too. it was valentine’s day. and when the whole class knew mark loved you, he never got away with the teasing. you still had no idea what it meant, though.

when mark was twelve, “i’m gonna be famous!”, he shouted to the whole world.

you saw him pick up the guitar that he borrowed from his dad. he flicked a few strings. “congratulations, mark!”, you said. “thanks.”, replied. “what’s wrong?”, you saw how his smile slowly turned into a bit of a frown. “i’m going away,” he said. you patted him on the shoulder, “my mom said we’re all meant to, mark.”. oh, you thought, how early was it for you both to know the concept of separation. how unfortunate it is, sometimes, to be needing to grow up early.

when mark was sixteen, he took a good glance of a glimpse of his future.

flashing lights, cheering crowds, fans following him around—the fame he has worked for four years—the dog days, the sacrifices, the longing for familiarity in a city of uncertainties and foreign—are finally going to pay off. his cheeks hurt from smiling. he was more focused than ever, like a hungry animal preying for success. “i always knew you were made for somewhere else”, you thought while seeing the news around home that mark is on his way to making his name.

but as years passed by like a blink of an eye, mark finally had the chance to rest, to go somewhere. but he didn’t know where else to go. from living in toronto, to vancouver, to some few years somewhere in queens, and now, in unfamiliar cities he wake up to, he never had the chance to sit still and think of this: he never knew what home felt like.

when mark was nineteen, he made his way to his old house.

relatives greeted him. old smiles and familiar warmth overwhelmed mark. oh, how lovely it is to grasp a sense of familiarity. trains and 156 buses, his smile beamed when he reminisced middle school. “remember when…”, it was all his tongue could say. laughter filled the dining area where he and his siblings often had their silly whip cream-face-smearing fight, but his joy slightly faltered when he passed by an abandoned house, just five blocks away from his house. an abandoned, almost small-framed bicycle sits on the front porch. it was the bicycle you would ride whenever mark knocks at your very doorstep to go to the nearest town and buy potato chips.

he remembers when he was thirteen and packing for his flight the next day, he asked you: “do you think we’d forget each other?”

“i think you would.”, you replied.

“i would never.” mark reassured you, but you’ve heard stories of your mom and how her college best friend suddenly fell apart. nothing in particular, it’s just life and how we go separate ways—it’s inevitable. people say i love yous to their loved ones, reassuring them the warmth and proximity will stay, but as the sun rises, for mark, there will be great emptiness as he is forced to remove himself and start anew.

“why do you think so?”

“because i love you.”

and for you, love has changed its definition instantly. it was a time when a great consciousness arise. you understood how he truly meant all these years. you said it back as you also meant every single syllable. love, for mark, was meant to be fireworks and giggles. but by the time he boarded the plane, you kissed his cheek, his first love started and ended on the very same day.

now, mark, twenty-three, almost has it all.

he has been writing for years. he isn’t still an author, as he has told you, but sure what he writes comes along with the melodies he produces with his co-artists. he has been contented with his lifestyle, going to different countries, and working with unpredictable schedules. sure, he has established a name in the industry, working like a mad dog, but something still bothers him inside, something missing, lacking.

tonight, he writes in a local coffee shop as he waits for his manager to arrive, a practice that keeps his feet on the ground. scribbles, blurbs, drafts of lyrics, all embedded in his journal—and after a while of connecting the dots to construct who he really is and where he would position himself in the vast ocean of possibilities, he may have finally struck something that hits closer to his definition of home.

i just wanted you to know, mark writes to you, who have always been his muse through and through, to tell you that i have been happy during our years together, that i have never been so happy despite what i have gone through and achieved, and that i already know i will never be so happy again.

and as mark closes his messy, worn-out black journal, the bells rang as someone entered the door.

mark watches you walk in and towards the counter. he would have so many questions as to why you are here and when you have arrived. but reserve it for later because as you find a table you could sit in, you locked your eyes with his—so familiar, so distinct, so… inviting. almost home.

lost for words, mark stared at you. blinking like a fool. he must be dreaming.

but the doubts of the fantasy dissipated.

“hey, stranger.”, you said. “do you think we still know each other?”

a smile so warm, so loving, proximity that is so close—these are things he has lost over the years, now sitting in front of him, embodied by the epitome of his long lost love.

and mark always firmly believed in this, and today, he was never betrayed by his beloved: fate.

home, all along—he thought, is wherever i’m with you.

#mark lee angst #mark lee imagines #mark lee oneshots #mark lee drabbles #mark lee oneshot #mark lee fluff #mark lee fic #mark lee scenarios #mark lee smut #mark lee fanfic #mark lee x you #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x reader #mark lee x oc #mark lee #mark angst #mark imagines #mark oneshots #mark drabbles #mark fluff #mark fic #mark scenarios #mark smut #mark fanfic #mark x you #mark x y/n #nct dream drabble #nct dream angst #nct dream oneshot #nct dream

[jd07201990]

One might think I went a little overboard when I used my talents, to give my old college buddy Charles Wentworth II, the son he'd always wanted. Life threw him a curveball when his little boy just, stayed little. It took only 8 months to change that.

At 19, he was almost fae. 5'4" 110lbs soaking wet, the 3rd Charles in the line was thin, lithe, soft-tempered and good mannered. Clean and neat, always top of his class, the boy was head of the Student Council in High School, when his Father hoped he'd have excelled in Football, the same as his old man.

Charles II knew I'd gone into psychiatry out of college, majoring in Behavioral Studies with a minor in biochemistry. He'd seen what I could do to a person with just 10 minutes of talking. Out like a light, I'd fill their heads with all sorts of triggers, innocent fun to make the guys in the dorms laugh.

But Charles II knew where my interests really were. Behavioral Modification. He'd only seen this one time during our school days, when I tranced Jimmy Palter, the school's most annoying nerd, and by graduation, he'd packed on 50lbs, mostly in his belly, dressed like a hick, and went off to drive Big-Rigs across the country, adding notches to his creaking belt as he screwed his way across country, bedding pretty Diner girls as he hauled goods for my Dad's transport company. Last I'd checked, he was still trucking, with a wife and 5 kids somewhere out west.

Anyway, the strapping young stud you see here, with absolutely no intelligent thought behind those handsome eyes, is Charles Wentworth III. Or, as he preffers now, Chett. Sometimes his football buddies call him Chetworth, but one headlock with their faces pressed to his sweaty pits is enough to stop even the strongest of them, at least for a while. He's an aggressive, hot-blooded powerhouse, and doesn't let anyone forget it.

It had only taken an hour to wriggle my influence into his good natured, innocent mind. His father had asked him to come see me, and an hour later, the boy was thrilled to have sessions with me every day for the foreseeable future. I'd given him a perscription for what he was convinced were vitamins, but were really prototype HGH and Testosterone boosters a friend at a Pharma-Lab in Serbia gives to, well, select clientelle, with the agreement that we send the results asap. Some of this stuff may as well be nuclear Hormone-bombs, its no wonder the FDA refuses to even look at it!

So, A month in, and the boy was a nervous wreck. Trembling with excess energy, his feet tapped anciously during the first sessions, the supplements and my trances sending his body into overdrive. He said he felt like he was on fire, all the time, hot and clammy, and that his body tingled, pent up, wound tight like a spring. I let him suffer with this for a few weeks, I watched as the confusion led to annoyance, and he finally came to my office in the middle of the day, skipping class for the first time in his life, asking me for help. I tried to hid the wicked smirk on my face, and really got down to it. It was easy to drop him down into trance, and from there, My work really began.

4 months in, Chett had gotten a bit of weight on him, his body now tight and toned, working out alone when the gym was empty. The supplements really kicked his body into overdrive, sweat poured from him, soaking his shirts and shorts. He'd complained about it for only a short time, until I convinced him that was the smell of Effort. Of athletic Prowess. Of well-worked Male. As usual, anything I said became the truth, and I soon found him taking sniffs of himself after working out, flexing absentmindedly as he noticed the changes to his body.

By the 6th month, the supplements had shot through his body, setting it into a second puberty of sorts. He grew taller, hitting 6', his legs long with a solid densness that rivaled some of the soccer players. His torso was like a marble statue, each muscle easily traced, as he had very little bodyfat. The Chett was stuffing himself with pritein and calories at my suggestion, really pushing for some size, but his pesky metabolism just wouldn't let him bulk. His father decided that, "Behemoth" as the original plan had intended, wasn't necessary, and we went with "Classic All American Boy" instead. What began as a shrimpy welp, turned into a marble stature, then the beginnings of a diamond-cut stud.

His shoulders widened, giving him that perfect masculine taper, while his face lost its boyish softness, replaced with sharper, more intensly sharp features. His size 7s grew quickly, his feet ruinding sneakers left and right, until he'd leveled off at a wide size 13. His chest began to grow a smattering of hair, his pits were thick, dense wiry bushes. He had that Pretty-Boy look. Fuzzy in all the right places. Sure, he reeked like a Varsity Locker room, but hey, Charles II wanted an athletic son, he knows from our own college days what that entials.

I could see the Sorority Girls and cheerleaders beginning to take notice, but for now, I'd kept Chett firmly away from women. That would come later. I recieved several new prototype supplements, each targeting a different system of the body. By the time he'd finished taking these, he was 6'2" 170, a tall, well built stallion, with nothing but the gym and my trances to quell the neverending storm of energy and hormones flooding his system. He was pent up, on edge, ready to go off anytime. And I knew just what I had to do.

I'd had him on edge for the last 8 monnths. his grades slipped until he nearly got ckicked from school. Luckily, I miraculously had a place for him on the Football team. And he eagerly joined, wanting nothing more than to try and burn off all the aggression on the field. He was a beast from his first practice, I'd programmed everything he'd ever need to know about the game into his mind for months. He absolutley plowed through opponents. It was incredible to see.

I finally let the damn break after a hard-fought summer Game. he'd performed just as I expected. Like a perfectly trained, expert player. Nobody would ever guess Chett had ever been a weedy little boy. Expecially not after I'd set him loose, allowing him to notice the girls all over the field, cheering and buoncing about from player to player. when Sandra Rinaldi, heir to an immense national Grocer's fortune slid up to him, pushing the sweaty hair from his eyes, he couldn't help it. One look at her, and he pounced, kissing her hard right there in the field. 8 months of hormones and denial had been released.

From what I learned through locker room talk in the days following, Chett had given Sandra quite the workout that night, and every day since. Although the two weren't exclusive, Chett tending to get his dick wet anytime, anywhere, with anyone just as programmed, Chett seemed to have a natural incling toward her, and ended up asking her to marry him just after graduation, his father thrilled at the possibility of grandkids and Sandra's inheritence bolstering their own family's fortune.

From tiny waif of a boy, to a true blue American Stud, Charles Wentworth III was now both satisfied and thrilled with his family's future. His strapping, handsome Jock of a son made him proud, cleaning up well for his father to parade him around Gala's and business events, other big-wigs taking notice of the Wentworth's "good genes", not knowing what it took to build the boy up as you see here.

[penguwastaken]

Nobody Understands Mukuro Ikusaba (aka Mukuro Character Analysis)

...except for the people that do (lol).

But first I want to clarify what I mean by this title and why I even wrote this thread in the first place. Mukuro is my second favorite Danganronpa character, only beaten out by Kyoko. There's a lot of reasons why I really like Mukuro, but one of them is her writing.

I think she's one of the best written characters in the series. But unfortunately, she also happens to be one of the most misunderstood characters as well. Not even by the people who don't like her, but also by her own fans.

"Mukuro has incestuous feelings for Junko" "Danganronpa 3 retconned her character" "Mukuro was just a plot device" These are all claims that baffle me because simply just consuming the media will say otherwise.

To many, Mukuro is either a one note incest freak or a pure innocent cinnamon roll who did nothing wrong and both of those interpretations are wildly incorrect. I've been meaning to write this post for a while, but we're finally here.

Nobody understands Mukuro Ikusaba (a ""🧵"") (Spoiler warning for the entire series)

Story Overview

We don't actually know too much about Mukuro's backstory aside from the fact that at a young age, she was separated from her younger twin sister Junko. Before being taken away, she claims that she was homeless and after she was taken she was forced to become a member of the military group Fenrir.

So clearly Mukuro never really had the chance to have a normal life, and more importantly: never had a chance to feel the care of another person.

Her sister, who Mukuro had not seen in years, suddenly got in contact with her and called Mukuro over to participate in her plan to overthrow Hope's Peak Academy (and the world). Mukuro, who already felt bad for losing her sister and was desperate for any kind of affection, accepted and began working for Junko.

Junko took advantage of Mukuro's desperation and had her basically work as a servant to her plans. She started by having Mukuro wipe out the entirety of a middle school in order to prove Mukuro's skills and how far Mukuro would go for her.

With that out of her way, Junko made Mukuro obey like her servant in order to overthrow Hope's Peak and cause the tragedy. Mukuro did so without batting an eye and disregarding any second thoughts she might have had, all while facing Junko's abuse.

During her time attending Hope's Peak, Mukuro met Makoto Naegi. Unlike most of her classmates, Makoto was friendly to her and showed her compassion. This confused her as we already established that Mukuro wasn't used to affection. Because of this and her tendency to latch onto anyone who shows her even an ounce of care, she began to develop feelings for Makoto (that even Junko acknowledged).

In the past two years, Ikusaba had gained an interest in the world beyond her sister. And in that world, Makoto Naegi--the first person who smiled at her and bridged the gap between her and the world--had become like a sapling of sincerity taking root in her heart. -Danganronpa IF confirming Mukuro's feelings for Makoto

"Upupupu… I wonder what kind of fun you were having in the infirmary? Did you take care of your rival in love, or did you wish them a happy marriage? Either way, don't you think our nice guy Naegi standing side-by-side with Kirigiri makes for a wonderful picture? If this were a thriller, they'd be the last surviving couple!" "Upupupupu… Or how about just killing all of the others? If everyone but you and Naegi die, then the two of you can spend the rest of your student lives together! After all, we can't even hold a trial if there's only two people left. Maybe it'll be best if you just hole up here, safe in the building forever!" "And what're you going to do once he goes back to his old self? It's not as if you were dating Naegi, right? You were just watching him from afar all this time! Now this is a shock. You can shoot right through people's heads and hearts without even blinking, but you can't even steal away some skinny little boy's heart! You want me to tell you who Naegi had a crush on before his memories were erased? Upupupupu…" -Junko teasing Mukuro about her feelings as she aids Makoto in Danganronpa IF

Once the tragedy occured, Mukuro was locked inside of Hope's Peak with Junko and the rest of their classmates and she helped orchestrate the killing game. She disguised herself as Junko, under the impression that Junko would fake her death and they could spend the rest of the game together.

This is when the seeds of doubt began to sprout inside of Mukuro. I wouldn't say that she necessarily began to go against her sister, but she definitely was starting to get a little more hesitant.

"It was only recently that she began to question her mindset. Hearing about this plan from Junko and watching the world burn at the hands of people in Monobear masks did nothing to sway her, but when she heard that Junko was intending to plunge Naegi and the others into a game of murder, something within her began to move. The seed of doubt soon took root, sprouting into a thorny vine that twisted around her feet. And the moment she met her friends for the first time under the identity of Junko Enoshima and realized their memories were truly gone, the vines quickly tightened around her ankles." -Danganronpa IF describing Mukuro's feelings when the killing game began

To Makoto and the player who are under the impression that this is Junko, they assume that she's referring to not wanting to be a model anymore. But given her backstory of never being able to live a normal life and always having to fend for herself or follow the orders of others, we can infer what she actually means. She expresses disappointment in the fact that she never really had a chance to do what she wanted.

This all culminates in the moment where Junko was supposed to fake the death of Mukuro, but that isn't what happened. Instead, Junko killed Mukuro and betrayed her. To say that Junko felt no remorse from this action would be a lie, however. Junko only did this because she knew it would hurt both of them.

...but what if that wasn't what happened? What if Mukuro wasn't killed? What would happen then? That brings us to:

Danganronpa IF

Danganronpa IF answers the hypothetical question of what if Mukuro survived Junko's attack. Of course this means it isn't canon, but due to Kodaka being involved with its creation and its existence as an event that hypothetically could have happened, it is canon compliant. This means that while the events didn't happen in canon, they could have and things like characterization are all accurate. Think of it like an extended free time event. While the events themselves aren't canon, the things they say and imply are. I'll also be referencing Danganronpa IF a lot because since it's told from Mukuro's perspective, it gives a lot of insight on her thought process.

After regaining his memories, Makoto recognizes and rescues Mukuro seconds before her would-be death and he gets impaled by one of the spears. Mukuro rushes to save him, abandoning her disguise and goal.

During this time, Mukuro does a lot of thinking. Why did Junko try to kill her? For all the time they've been working together, Mukuro always assumed that her job was to prop Junko up and help her achieve despair.

It turns out that Junko didn't want Mukuro to obey Junko's every order, Junko wanted Mukuro to retaliate. She didn't want Mukuro to submit to her, but instead to fight back.

With this Mukuro changes her mind, choosing to fight Junko instead of assisting her. Not because she's on the side of hope, she never cared about hope or despair, but because she only wants what's best for the only person in her life who cared for her.

"'That's why… I'll take responsibility. I'll make you happy, Junko . I'll make youdespair. I'll save Naegi-kun… I'll make sure none of our friends die. I'll get them all out of here. And I'll kill every last one of the ones on the outside. You planned this for years and killed so many people to make this work… so I'll destroy every last trace of it.' She was not driven by resentment at the sister who abandoned her. Ikusaba would do all this for her sister's sake." -Mukuro changing her approach to making Junko happy in Danganronpa IF

Who is Mukuro Ikusaba?

Now this is the part where I finally exit the synopsis phase and finally get into the character analysis, explaining why Mukuro acts the way she does in all entries.

Now, I want to begin with a common critique of Mukuro's character, specifically one that's attributed to Danganronpa 3. The one that says that Mukuro's behavior is not only out of character, but also claims that she has romantic feelings for her sister.

First point out of the way, Mukuro's blushy and flustered attitude is nothing new when it comes to her character. It's been an aspect of her since the very beginning of her characterization.

"'I don’t know if… she attracts despair, or despair attracts her, but… she’s lived her whole life with despair by her side. She lived while immersed in despair. That’s why she began looking for despair in others; she began to enjoy pushing people into despair. But you know… that’s normal. It’s no different than someone cursed by misfortune falling into hatred for those who are better off than them. But what’s special about her was that… she learned to enjoy inflicting despair upon herself. That’s how the link to despair began: as she chased down despair, she pushed it onto others along the way. Doing so caused her to crave falling into despair even more… and because of that chain to despair, the Ultimate Despair was born.' While she spoke, it was like she fell into a fever; the expressions on her face slowly turned into ecstasy. It was so completely absurd that it would have been difficult for anybody to think of it as anything but a joke, but I could tell that this was real. It might have been the hazy memories of Junko Enoshima inside me that led to that conclusion. 'You don’t get it right? That’s fair, I don’t think anybody could… But you know, only I can understand it…' Consumed by ecstasy, even Ikusaba’s breathing had begun to turn ragged." -Mukuro describing Junko in Danganronpa Zero

The second (and more important) point to address is the one that Mukuro holds some kind of romantic feelings for her sister. Now, in all honestly, I can't hold this against anyone for thinking this even if I think it's a wild misinterpretation of her behavior. Danganronpa has a track record of using incest for comedic effect (to always poor results). However, Mukuro's relationship with Junko is not used to comedic effect and it's portrayed in a negative light. Not only that, we know that Mukuro does not enjoy behaving that way.

"'She hoped that, perhaps her sister on the screen would say something like 'Not! You seriously thought I'd say something that sappy? Jeez, you're annoying! Can't you just disappear forever or something?'. She hoped that Junko might criticizeher and call her useless. Ikusaba was no masochist, but she would have preferred to hear scornful laughter and be shot at rather than continue to endure this pain." -Danganronpa IF explaining Mukuro's "masochism"

Mukuro doesn't behave the way she does because she has feelings for Junko, she does so because she believes that's how Junko wants her to behave. Danganronpa Zero and IF makes it clear that Mukuro was wrong about how Junko wanted her to behave.

“'You don’t get it right? That’s fair, I don’t think anybody could… But you know, only I can understand it…' Consumed by ecstasy, even Ikusaba’s breathing had begun to turn ragged. 'Only I’m able to understand her… That’s why she needs me. She still hasn’t realized it, but… maybe she’s only pretending not to. Ufu… It’s because she’s so shy. Ufufufu…'” -Mukuro explaining that Junko needs her in Danganronpa Zero

"Ikusaba knew that not even she herself was her own ally. After all, despite the fact that Junko had betrayed her and very nearly killed her, Ikusaba still believed that she was the only one who could understand her little sister. And that was why she felt that she had to protect her. That's right… you were just being you, Junko. You just wanted despair, right? It's because you love me. You wanted to kill me and fall into despair. That must have been it" -Mukuro in denial in Danganronpa IF

"Ikusaba believed that she alone could understand the despair known as Junko Enoshima. It was a ludicrous notion. The moment Junko said, 'I love you', Ikusaba realized--to her agony--that she never truly understood her sister. Only now had she come to realize Junko's feelings." -Mukuro realizing that she didn't understand Junko in Danganronpa IF

Because of Mukuro's incorrect interpretation of understanding Junko, Mukuro believes that Junko expects her to respond to her abuse with acceptance and masochism. Even if she was uncomfortable to, as long as it made Junko happy, that's what mattered. Of course, we learn that Junko wanted Mukuro to respond her abuse with retaliation, and as soon as Mukuro realizes that her behavior immediately shifts. Mukuro holds a great deal of admiration for Junko, so much so that she only wants to do what would please Junko the most.

She does not have romantic feelings for her sister and to say so misses the point entirely. She isn't behaving that way because she's a masochist, she behaves that way because she believes it's how she's expected to, even if she's visibly uncomfortable. Once she learns this isn't what's expected, she immediately changes course.

Danganronpa 3 also has official relationship charts that depict the relationship between characters. In this chart, crushes or explicitly shown romantic feelings are labeled with a heart (as seen with Kazuichi's attraction to Sonia or Toko's attraction to Byakuya). Mukuro's relationship does NOT feature this heart. You would think that if Mukuro's very obvious admiration towards Junko was romantic it would have a heart, but it doesn't because it isn't. If what I said before didn't convince you, I think this itself is proof enough.

Mukuro's admiration doesn't extend to just Junko though. Due to her unfortunate upbringing, Mukuro has a tendency to get attached to anyone who shows her the affection she's desperate for. So much so that her behavior changes completely around the people she cares about.

"The mass of monochrome spun round and round, making it look as though they were projecting a hypnotic image from three directions, but Ikusaba remained expressionless. In fact, the bizarre sight unfolding before her compelled the Super High School Level Soldier to regain her focus. She was an entirely different person from the girl who had panicked at Naegi's injury in the gymnasium." -Mukuro while fighting in Danganronpa IF, behaving completely differently from when she panicked over Makoto's injury

"Not only that, if anyone who knew her as the Super High School Level Soldier and mercenary were to see her now, the difference in her attitude might even make her look like another person altogether. And Monobear continued to drive the girl into a corner." -Mukuro panicking over Makoto's injury in Danganronpa IF

"The mask of ice she wore around others was entirely unlike the face she showed her sister, making it almost seem as though she had multiple personalities." -Danganronpa IF explaining that Mukuro's behavior around Junko is different from her typical icey expression

This is why around most people, Mukuro has a pretty blank expression. However when she's around Makoto or Junko, the two people who she cares about, she displays a much more soft and emotional side.

That being said, an often overlooked aspect of Mukuro is that she actually has a slight ego and is proud of her skill. This is especially obvious in her fight with Peko in Danganronpa 3. Of course, if I spent years in the military without getting a single scratch, I'd probably have an ego too.

Mukuro is also capable of turning off her feelings and going into a "killing machine mode" whenever the situation demands it, mostly when she's carrying out some mission. It's not because she doesn't feel bad for what she's doing or isn't having any second thoughts, it's that she pushes any doubts to the side to focus on getting the job done.

"In battlefields, where she made her home, her main mission was to kill and survive. And in that setting Ikusaba was invincible. She could put her own emotions on a leash in order to become a killing machine." -Danganronpa IF explaining how Mukuro is capable of ignoring her own feelings

"With a single whisper that was drowned out by the sound of gunfire, Ikusaba went completely silent. Thanks to her status as a member of Super High School Level Despair, her heart was filling with joy. And as if to offset the sudden surge of emotions, the sparkle in her eyes disappeared." -Mukuro turning her emotions off while fighting in Danganronpa IF

So Basically...

Due to her upbringing Mukuro is someone who gets attached to people easily, particularly those who give her attention. Junko took advantage of this to make Mukuro essentially act as her servant. Believing that Junko expected her to return the abuse she faced with enjoyment, she forced herself to do just that. Even if it made her uncomfortable, making her sister happy at her own expense is better than being alone. She's capable of turning off and ignoring her emotions to following orders when necessary and is generally a proud and skilled soldier, though she has a softer side that she only shows to people who she cares for.

That is who Mukuro Ikusaba is.

Conclusion

There's a lot of reasons I really like Mukuro. I think she's silly and cute and I like her singing voice. But I also think her characterization is really good in all of her appearances. I think a lot of the critiques made towards her (especially towards her appearance in Danganronpa 3) are misguided or just a result of her being misunderstood.

She's not a plot device or a character exclusively there to act as an extension of Junko. She's filled to the brim with character depth and interesting writing and has plenty of characterization on her own. I'll admit that her presence in Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc is a bit limited, however she doesn't just become an important character in four other entries without getting some kind of development.

Many think her characterization is inconsistent or different across entries, but I honestly think it couldn't be any MORE consistent. The only times where I'd say she acts out of character is in the comic anthologies, but those are non-canon media that's kinda known for flanderizing characters for the sake of comedy.

Basically, I like Mukuro. I hope I managed to change some minds or shed a new light on her to anyone who didn't before. And if you already liked her, I hope maybe I could make you appreciate her a bit more or just help you explain her in some way.

anyways follow me on twitter cough cough

Also special thanks to Twitter user @LKSixtyfour for their tweets about Mukuro's characterization, many helped me organize my thoughts to form the thread that you just read.

Edit: didn't make any changes to the post, just fixed some typos

#danganronpa #danganronpa 3 #dr3 #dr3 anime #dr #danganronpa anime #danganronpa zero #danganronpa 0 #danganronpa if #dr1 #dr1 thh #dr1 trigger happy havoc #drif #dr0 #killer killer #dr3 despair arc #mukuro ikusaba #dr mukuro #danganronpa mukuro #junko enoshima #dr junko #danganronpa junko #enoshima junko

[yutaleks]

This is targeted towards me myself and I

cw: children and baby talk. You have a son who’s just gone off to uni. 🥲

“Yuuta, quit it, you’re heavy,” you whine, squirming around on the bed.

It’s evening, not yet the time you’d typically sleep, but late enough to crawl into bed. And yet, when Yuuta comes in after you, it’s not to lay beside you, but to wedge himself between your legs and plant his head onto your chest, wrapping himself around you like a koala to a tree.

“Mm, let me stay like this a little longer,” he mumbles, snaking his arms around your middle and squeezing. If he weren’t six feet tall and heavy as hell you would brand him a child, clingier than your son has ever been.

“You’ve been moping for all of three days,” you sigh, patting down his hair. There’s strands of grey peppered through his dark hair that you comb through with your fingers affectionately. “You’ll make yourself go even more grey at this rate.”

You feel him stiffen up. You can’t see his expression, as he has his face turned, but by the little huff you hear he must be pouting.

“Is it bad? Do you want me to dye it?”

“No! It looks good on you,” he’s close enough for you to lean down and kiss his head. Which you do, instantly giving respite to his bones. He relaxes against you again, and once again his entire weight is pressed against your chest. You giggle. “If you dye it, everyone think you’re the student when we go to visit Hiro next week.”

Yuuta chuckles. “You think so?”

“Well maybe that would be better actually,” you muse. “Then all those moms at these parent meetings can stop ogling at you.”

“I never noticed.”

You very clearly remember Yuuta having to politely smile and worm his way out of the clutches of all the other older moms, like some kind of pop idol avoiding his rabid fans. Who knew middle-aged moms were so persistent?

“Too busy trying not to cry, were you?”

“Maybe,” he replies defeatedly as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“It’s not like it’s his first time at school. He’s a man now, he’ll be okay,” you tell him, though even for you the thought of your son’s very first day of school brings back a lot of precious memories. Including the one where Yuuta started crying in the car after the drop-off. “He came home that first day with the biggest smile. He’s always been so brave, ya know.”

You hear him sniffle as he laughs. “Much braver than me.”

“I miss him too,” you sigh, your voice less playful and much softer to Yuuta’s ears. “Feels kinda weird now that it’s just us two, huh?”

Yuuta buries his face down onto your chest, and starts mumbling something. All you hear is “we… baby,”

“Okkotsu,” you push on his head, to make him face you. “Did I just hear you say what I think you said?”

He avoids your gaze, though by the tint to his cheeks you’re sure you’ve heard him correctly. “Not sure what you mean,”

“Another baby? That’s crazy talk, Yuu,”

This time he does meet your stare, blue eyes blinking up at you with sincerity. “Is it crazy? It was hard when we were young but, I’d do it all again with you. In a heartbeat.”

This time it’s you who can’t look at him, turning away as he makes you feel flustered. “We’re—we’re too old for that kind of thing,” you sputter, bringing a palm to your warm face.

“We’re not even forty. It’s totally possible,” Yuuta starts to lift himself off of you, adjusting your positions just enough to hover over you. “I’ve just thought about it, is all.”

You feel a hand sneak under your shirt, touching your side. A laugh bubbles out of your lips before you can stop it. “I know what you’re doing, Okkotsu.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, playing innocent as he lands a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“Trying to butter me up with tears over Hiro… you’re cheeky.”

“Those tears were very real, sweetheart. I miss him terribly.”

You move one of your feet, brushing over his crotch. “Then why are you hard right now?”

“Was thinking about making a baby with you, can you blame me?” he kisses at your throat, the heat of it way too persuasive for what you’d like.

“Mhm,” is the best you can manage, too distracted by him and his kisses and his touch.

“Missing Hiro and this, they are not mutually exclusive,” he adds.

“That’s a lot to ask, Yuuta. Starting all over…”

“There’s only one person I’d do it a hundred times over with,” he says before he finally meets your lips, conveying his feelings to you with a soft, earnest kiss.

“Stop that,” you tell him half heartedly, when he pulls away. When he starts talking about his feelings for you is always when he has you at your weakest point. “If you keep talking like that…”

“You’ll think about it?” He smiles.

“…I’ll take it under consideration.”

#yutaleks #writing tag #cw children #something something women over 35 more likely to have twins something something

[rqgnarok]

dial drunk - tommy miller

fandom: the last of us (tv show and video game)

wc: 2,703

warnings: alcoholism and mentions of alcohol abuse, drunk character, maybe PTSD? pre-outbreak. no use of specific pronouns. 

summary: tommy calls you in the middle of the night, hammered and asking for a favor.

inspired by noah kahan’s dial drunk. author’s note at the end.

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

Tommy knows the drill.

He’s been here enough times to recognize the officer pulling him over, asking after his wife and kids as he steps out of the truck on unsteady feet. He’s all Southern charm and pleasantries as he fails his breath test and is unable to walk in a straight line for the officer to see. 

“Come on, man,” he says, aiming for placating and pretty much landing it. He’s not his mama’s favorite for nothing, getting out of trouble Joel would’ve been grounded over when he was his age with big cow eyes and flimsy excuses. “Paperwork’s shit, right? Lemme make a call and someone will take me off your hands for the night.”

The officer tightens his mouth into a grimace, unconvinced.

“Look, if this gets nowhere then I’ll ride with you nice and quiet,” he bargains with as much honesty as one can convey when being the youngest boy in a nice Catholic Texan family. There aren’t better credentials than those when pleading your innocence. “I’ll even play it up in front of your boss to make you look good, yeah? Just one call, promise.”

Hook, line, and sinker. The officer’s shoulders drop a little and he’s offering his cell phone for Tommy to call. “One call. Then you’re done.”

“Yessir.”  

Tommy grins innocently as best as he can with double the legal limit of alcohol in his blood and a phone between his ear and shoulder. The man stands there with his arms crossed looking like he’d rather be anywhere but bringing his ass in for a DUI at two AM on a Wednesday.

“‘lo?” you call sleepily, finally picking up. Tommy doesn’t restrain his victorious grunt. “...Tommy?”

“Hey, sweets,” he slurs a little, clearing his throat. “Sorry for wakin’ you. I need a favor.”

“Tommy,” you say again, tired. If Tommy were any less drunk, he’d realize it’s not lack of sleep that has you sounding like that. He’s shitfaced and thinking about the monumental kick in the ass waiting for him at home when Joel realizes he hotwired and stole his truck to get a drink at the nearest bar. 

“I know, I know, listen,” he cuts you off before you can say anything else, sneaking a look at the officer’s crossed arms and disappointed stance. “You remember the way to the precinct, right? From last time?”

Last time, when Tommy got into a brawl outside a bar he was not supposed to be in, and accepted your worried fussing with barely concealed annoyance, gripping your wrists and taking your hands off his bruised face. You’d driven him to your place because he’d promised Joel to steer clear of trouble for at least a few months, and his breath still reeked of alcohol by the time you came to pick him up.  

You told him then you weren’t doing this again. But you always say that. And you always come when he calls.

Your moms had grown up together in Texas and were ecstatic about the fact that their two littlest ones would come into the world so close together. You and Tommy were inseparable because the universe had dictated it– and nothing could interfere between you. Not his dad dying when he and Joel were still too young, not Tommy having to repeat fifth grade and no longer sharing a classroom with you, not you going off to college and Tommy joining the army straight out of high school.

But then he came home. And he came home different.

The shit he’d seen overseas was nasty, but that’s not what drove him to drink himself stupid every night. At least that’s what he thinks. Soon his habits began seeing the light of day; vodka mixed in his morning coffee and hidden in a water bottle during lunch with the boys at the construction site. Life became a blur when he was drinking and an agonizingly slow nightmare when he wasn’t.

Joel wasn’t the first to notice but he’d been the first to say something about it. Next time you come to my home reeking of a cheap ass bar in front of my kid I’m kicking your ass out. I’m serious, Tommy. This shit has to stop. 

And Tommy had believed him. So he turned to the next person he knew that would do anything for him. You came home from college despite your dreams to outrun this town, and soon it was your number he had memorized even when his brain called it quits and left him alone in his blackouts.

“I do,” you say, and Tommy’s already thinking about sleeping it off on your sorry excuse of a couch. It’s a slow night, only a couple of drunken bums sleeping off their hangovers in a quaint police station in fucking Arlington, Texas. But Tommy would take your couch any day, even if it means fucking up his back for the rest of the week. “But I’m not coming to get you, Tommy. Call Joel.”

“Sweetheart,” he croons into the phone, low and mellow like he’d talk to pretty girls at parties in high school. The same ones you’d go to only because he begged you to come with, acting like a jealous boyfriend when someone wouldn’t leave you alone. “Please. I’ll pay you back, you know I’m good for it.”

He’d put a possessive arm around your waist, standing behind you and smiling icily at whoever was pestering you. We got a problem here?

There’s silence at the other side of the line, sheets rustling. Tommy can picture you sitting up, phone to your ear, biting the inside of your cheek nervously. 

More like Joel is, but hey. He took the big brother act to heart the second Tommy was born. He’s been bailing him out of shit as long as Tommy’s been alive, why would tonight be any different?

Joel, who’s always told him, first jokingly and then not so much, that you were too good for Tommy. Too smart, too kind, with too much integrity for someone like his little brother. 

The older Miller had taken a liking to you pretty soon after Tommy did; wiping the dirt off scraped knees and your tears from chubby child cheeks after placing a bandaid with gentle, unsure fingers. Giving you a ride when you insisted on walking home, leaving the back door open for you whenever being home got too rough for you. 

That man knew you’d be the best thing to ever happen to his brother in his entire life. Too bad the idiot didn’t realize it, pushing your limits until you couldn’t take it any longer. 

“I’m not bailing you out of jail, Tommy,” you sigh, annoyance creeping over the hesitation in your tone. You were never good at saying no to him, even when you were both in diapers and Tommy wanted your dinosaur plushie so bad he threw a tantrum until his mom took him in her arms. “When I said last time was the last time, I meant it. I’m sick of this shit.”

“Come on,” he scoffs, saying your name in a way he knows you hate, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “I’ll give you a kiss and everything. You still like that, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” you snap on the other side of the line. He knows you well enough to know what buttons to push. Reminding you of your first kiss is a trick he’s never, never pulled on you before, though. “Don’t fucking say that, don’t use that against me.”

You’d been seventeen and without a date to the prom. The guy you were thinking about asking had laughed in your face when you offhandedly mentioned going together and Tommy had refused to let you sulk alone. He’d climbed into your room through your window and wrapped his arm around you the second your lip wobbled, tears wetting your cheeks.

Tell me who I have to kill, he’d said before you ever told him what was wrong. He’s always been like that, hot-headed and protective, especially when it comes to you. Willing to fight anyone who’s ever slightly wronged you but not realizing when he’s done it himself.

You laughed into his shirt, snotty and miserable as he tightened his grip around you. Come on, sweets, fuck that guy. Like he’s even good enough for you.

You confessed with a burning embarrassment how you’d seen yourself kissing him– more out of the need to get your first kiss over with than actual want– and Tommy’s face had gone through a bunch of complicated emotions before settling on something sweet, shy, resolute. He’d thumbed at your chin thoughtfully, fingers just barely brushing over your bottom lip. 

Tommy had his first kiss when he was thirteen with Amy Hill behind the church his mother dragged them to every Sunday morning, but you’d never seen him that nervous. He failed to look into your eyes as he stuttered out his suggestion. If you wanna get it out of the way then maybe– I don’t know. Why not do it with someone who actually cares about you?

You’d looked at him in scrutiny as if you’d never taken a good look at him before. He self-consciously thought about his fair skin and his freckles, if his hair was still a mess from football practice, and if his breath smelled somewhat okay after having that sandwich for lunch. 

You offerin’, Miller?

Yeah, he’d said instead of something stupid like haven’t you heard? I’m a catch. He murmured bashfully, finally meeting your eyes. Yeah, sweets, I guess I am.

He’d licked his lips and drew a path with his fingers from your temple to behind your ear before cupping the side of your jaw, breath hot. Just– punch me in the face or something if you don’t want to.

You hadn’t. He’d closed the gap between you and you kissed him back slowly, hesitantly, diving back in again after he drew away. He was too short of breath for a chaste kiss that had lasted a couple of seconds, and the second time around his tongue flickered past his lips. Your hands on his shirt tightened in response, a helpless sound leaving your mouth that neither of you had been expecting. 

He hadn’t known about your crush then. Maybe that’s when it first started, some Tuesday night with a kiss in your childhood bedroom, but Tommy doesn’t remember ever becoming aware of it. He just knew, suddenly, and enough things had happened in the in-between from then to now for him to consider using it against you.

His drunken brain thinks differently, though.

“Don’t be like that, sweets,” the nickname had never bothered you before, born out of Tommy watching too many old movies one night the babysitter failed to show up and Joel fell asleep on the couch. You’d never questioned him when he started calling you that, probably liking it a little too much for it to be a friendly thing between you. “You can act all high and mighty next time, alright? Just come pick me up before Joel realizes he ain’t got a ride for work tomorrow mornin’.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you curse vehemently. You haven’t been to church in the years you’ve been back from college, much to your mama’s dismay. “You know what? Whatever. That’s Joel’s problem now, not mine. Call him.”

“I’m asking you for a favor,” he says through gritted teeth, suddenly irritated. His characteristic charm is gone just like that. “Why are you being so fucking difficult?”

“I’m done watching you wreck your life, Tommy,” you say with finality. He scoffs pettily. “I’m not picking up again, tonight or ever. Call Joel.” 

A click. Then nothing.

He says your name and the dial tone laughs back at him. And Tommy–

Tommy can’t actually believe it. He takes the phone off his ear and stares at it, dumbfounded, like looking at it long enough will get you back on the line. 

He hears the officer blow air out his mouth and the evening suddenly comes into sharpening clearness; the cold November air biting at his face, the taste of whiskey in his mouth. His hands are sweating from where he’s gripping his phone, the tag of his jacket is rubbing uncomfortably against the back of his neck. 

You’ve never hung up on him before.

“That it?” the officer asks with the lack of patience that’s characteristic of the night shift. 

“I– what? No, no,” he shakes his head, already dialing again. “Just– just give me a second.”

“Night ain’t young, man,” he grumbles, already reaching for his cuffs. Tommy takes a step back, suddenly out of his depth. “One call. Time’s up.”

“I’ll– I’ll go okay? I’ll go, just let me– let me call again,” the trembling of his fingers has nothing to do with his current state– Tommy feels like every single drop of alcohol has vaporized from his blood and now he’s left cold and in trouble and alone.

Fuck. Fuck, you’d never hung up on him before.

He calls again, once, twice, before the officer finally loses his patience. “Alright, kid. Whoever you’re callin’ they don’t wanna answer. You can have your one phone call at the precinct. Get someone else, though, huh?”

Tommy doesn’t want to. Tommy shouldn’t have to, a sudden rush of self-righteous anger washing over him with enough force to gridlock his entire body with tension. His jaw tightens and teeth grind together, his shoulders straighten into a taunt, painful line, holding onto the phone so tightly it shakes, the shapes of it making indentations on his skin.

How dare you? How fucking dare you? Friends since fucking birth, does that mean nothing to you? Now you’re throwing him away like a fucking dirty rag? 

Call Joel, you had said, and Joel is enough of an asshole to keep Tommy in the can overnight to teach him a lesson, but you? You two have always looked out for each other, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go–

“I don’t have all night, buddy,” the officer gets his hands on him to take back his phone and beckon him to the car. Tommy flails as an automatic response, fighting back against the unwanted touch. But whether he feels like it or not he’s still drunk and in the blink of an eye he’s got his face against the hood of a police car, red and blue lights hurting his eyes, and a tight hand around the back of his neck keeping him somewhat still. 

The officer mumbles something about Tommy causing more trouble than he’s worth and ain’t that a popular opinion tonight? “You’re gonna cause yourself any more trouble, son?”

Tommy snorts. Son, like the guy’s not just a couple of years older than him. He’s pretty sure they crossed paths once or a hundred times back in high school. 

The ride to the precinct is as uncomfortable as it gets. The heat in the car isn’t working so Tommy’s freezing his ass off in the back of the car, handcuffs digging into his wrists. His nose is bleeding all over his clothes, and hurting like a bitch where the officer had to punch him when Tommy’s fight response wouldn’t quit. 

And you, in the back of his mind. He pictures you asleep after his little interruption and his anger is enough of a fire inside of him to drown out the disbelief, the blatant hurt that threatens to kill him more than his broken nose does. 

He’ll pop the thing back into place later in the cell but this? You? As the hours pass by and clarity regains its home in his awareness, he doesn’t see a way around this. A scenario in which he calls again and you listen, where you talk to him and he doesn’t feel like you kicked him to the curb over fucking nothing. A few drinks. A favor. Best friends, his ass.

He’ll keep calling, though. Even if he has to spend the night in jail because you don’t pick up. He’ll dial drunk until he dies, just for you. 

______

tommy u silly little goose

since noah’s album came out last week i’ve had this song on repeat and i desperately wanted to write a fic about it. idk why my mind instantly went to tommy. i’m thinking of a post-outbreak sequel but i won’t confirm anything until it’s actually in the works. 

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it! the lack of tommy fics is astounding to me, especially since gabriel luna is one of the most beautiful and talented men i’ve ever seen. 

reminder that commissions are open and support is always appreciated!

<3

#tommy miller #gabriel luna #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #reader insert #leo writes #tommy x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal

[mashed-potato101]

Imagine this...

|Twisted Wonderland|

Mc turns into a child due to an alchemy accident. Instead of making someone/people do the babysitting, it's the staff who will take care of them

Masterlist | Parts 1-?

≪Prev |[Part 2]| Next(TBA)≫

A/N: This is actually longer than I expected. I might turn this into a mini-series. I am also unsure about the characters' class schedules and who's in their classes. I made a few assumptions and just went with the flow.

Tag list: @pansexualproblemchild

Students are waiting inside the classroom for their professor to start class. Just as the bell rang, Trein walked in with Lucius in his arms like usual. But this time it is different. Everyone in the classroom gasped when they saw your little figure walking by his side, hand in hand. You wore an outfit that was obviously designed by Crewel and a backpack with stuff he also packed for you. 

“You can sit down on an empty seat if you’d like,” Trein suggested. 

You nodded and made your way to an empty seat, which happens to be next to the one and only Malleus himself. You sat down and placed your backpack beside you, taking out your crayons and coloring book. You glance to your left to see the dragon fae eyeing you. Your eyes widened and unexpectedly embraced him. 

“Tsunotaro!” you burst with a huge smile on your face. 

Everyone jumped from what you’ve just done.  

“Ts… Tsun…. TSUNOTARO!?!” 

Not only did you hug the future king of faes, but call him a silly name! CHILD PLEASE WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE!!!! 

The room grew tense, worrying what Malleus would do to you. Instead, he placed his hand on your head and smiled. 

“fufufu... Hello, child of man.” 

The students let out a loud sigh of relief and thought the fae would be angry. Trein, now at the desk with Lucius on top, clicked his tongue. 

“(y/n), please do not disrupt my class.” 

You released Malleus from your hold, which earned a pout from him. “Sorry, Grandpa Trein.” 

Students are now holding in their squeal from your cuteness. 

“Now, shall we begin?” 

You silently colored in your coloring book, legs swinging as the class progressed. Many students would often peek at you. On the other side of the room, Cater would secretly snap pics and upload them on Magic Cam. Look how cute mini prefect is! #socute #Iwannahugthem 

Malleus couldn’t focus on Trein’s lecture and watched you coloring instead. He already knows some of the lessons, so why should he be listening? He admits you looked cute when you were in your normal form. But you look even more adorable in this figure!  

While coloring your book, you often listened to Trein’s lecture. Generally, you'd get bored and sleepy from his voice. But now, it’s like listening to your grandpa telling you tales from his olden days. 

In the middle of class, you grew sleepy and shortly took a nap, using your arms as a pillow for your head. So young, so innocent, so pure. The horned man beside you is fighting his dragon urge to sweep you away and place you into a tall tower, isolating you from danger.  

Lilia peeks at you and smirks, remembering the times he took care of little Malleus, Silver, and Sebek. Oh, how he missed those days. His caretaker instincts are going off. Like Malleus, he’d like to kidnap you and take care of you instead. 

Time has passed as you were still asleep. The bell rang, and the final class of today are now over. 

“I hope those who were distracted or slept through the lecture have learned today’s lesson.” 

All the students soon got up from their seats and walked out of the classroom. Trein walked up to your sleeping figure with Lucious, who hopped onto the desk and rubbed his head to yours with a purr. You stirred and rubbed your eyes, slowly opening them to see the furry cat and Trein in front of you. 

“Mmmm... What time is it?” 

“It is now the end of school time,” Trein spoke, “Crewel will pick you up any moment soon. I suggest collecting your things and getting ready.” 

You nodded with an okay response and began packing your things. Afterward, you, Trein with Lucious walked out of the classroom. The two waited for your guardian figure to arrive as a few students walked by. 

“(y/n)!” 

You both glance to the side to see Crewel walking toward the two of you. You beamed out a wide smile, spread your arms out, and ran up to him. 

“Papa!” 

Crewel lifted you in the air as you laughed in joy. 

“My pup! Did you behave well?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, “I was coloring my coloring book while I listened to grandpa Trein. But I got sleepy, and I went to sleep.” 

The man who lifted you cradled you in his arms, humming in response. 

“Very well then. Thank you, Trein, for taking care of them.” 

“It was no problem,” Trein smiled, “It was like watching over my grandchildren. Observing (y/n) reminds me of them. Don’t you agree, Lucious?” 

The cat meowed in agreement. Both adults bid farewell and parted both ways. Crewel takes you to Mr. S’s mystery shop. For being such a good pup today, he decided to buy you a snack. The two of you walked inside the building. 

“Welcome to Mr. S’s mystery shop!” greeted Sam. 

You ran up to Sam, “Hi Mister Sam!” 

“Hello there, my little demon!” Sam patted your head. “Ah, and hello to you too, Divus. What can I do for the both of you?” 

“Hello, Sam. Me and my pup want to get some snacks before we head home.” 

“I have many kinds of snacks, all of them. In fact, they’re all in stock! Now, what will that be, my little demon?” 

You looked at Sam, then Crewel, not knowing what to get. You may have bought some tuna cans for Grim, but you rarely buy yourself some snacks just to save some money. 

“How about you look around the shop and see what you’d like?” suggested Sam. 

Before Crewel could protest, you already ran off. “Pup wait-!”

“Do not worry, my friend. I’m sure they’ll be safe in my friends' hands, ehehe”

 You went from aisle to aisle until you finally found your favorite snack. Unfortunately, it is way up high on the shelf and you’re too small for it to reach. Pouting, you soon tried to grab for it by jumping. 

“Oya? What do we have here?” 

You stopped and looked towards where the voice came from. Standing a few feet away from you is Ruggie, staring at your small figure. He is holding a few items, probably doing errands Leona gave him as usual. 

“Shishishishishi. It looks like the rumors were correct, our little prefect turned even smaller.”  

You only stare at him, making Ruggie sweat drop. 

“hehehe... I'm just gonna go and get the rest of the stuf- OI!” 

You stopped him from leaving by pulling his uniform, startling the hyena. As he turned to you in confusion, you pointed towards one of the shelves. He looked where you pointed to see a bag of snacks you wanted. 

“Ah, so you want me to get that for ya?” 

You only nodded. Ruggie chuckled, grabbed the treat, and handed it to you. But before you could grab it, Ruggie lifted high where you couldn’t reach. 

“But what am I getting from this? Hmm?” He teased. 

You extended your arms and tried to grab the bag, but Ruggie kept teasing you. The hyena chuckled, amused by your attempts. Until he heard sniffling. He stopped and panicked once he saw your teary eyes. He could feel his surroundings cold with eyes glaring at his back. 

“Okay okay! Here ya go! Jeez, I was just joking!” 

At last, he finally gave you the snack. You held it up high like it was given to you by God. The hyena let out an air of relief, feeling the cold aura gone. The two heard Crewel shout across the store. 

“Pup! Have you found something yet?” 

You gasp and are about to run out of the aisle. But you stopped, turned around, and ran towards Ruggie, tackling his leg. 

“Thank you, Ruggie-Sempai!” 

You quickly let go and left, leaving the hyena with his face flushing in pink and his hand rubbing his back neck. You ran towards the two male adults and handed your treat. Sam took the snack. 

“Are you sure that’s the one you want?” asked Crewel. 

You nodded, “Yes papa!” 

You hopped in excitement as Crewel handed Sam the madols to pay. The shadow man gave the paid snack to you. 

“Thank you, Mister Sam!” You chirped. 

“No, thank YOU! It is a pleasure doing business with you!” grinned Sam. 

“Come on now, pup,” Crewel called, “Let’s get going.” 

You grabbed Crewel’s hand and waved at Sam, “Bye-bye!” 

“See you tomorrow, my little demon!” 

You and Crewel walked out of the shop with your favorite snack in hand. You opened the bag of treats and began feasting them. You showed your guardian the open bag, signaling him to take some. 

“It’s alright pup, I’m not hungry.” 

You turned your head to the side, “Are you sure?” 

He patted your head, “Yes I’m sure, it is yours to eat.” 

Crewel quickly took you out of school to avoid Crowley along the way. The two are now making way inside Crewel’s house, greeted by two tall dalmatians. You giggled as they pounced at you, giving you kisses. 

“Hello Pongo! Hello Perdita!” You giggled. The two dogs barked happily. 

“Okay, dogs, that’s enough.” Crewel ordered, “Sit!” 

The two dogs stopped and sat as they were told. You and Crewel spend most of your time together, watching television, cooking dinner, and playing dress-ups. He also gave you a lovely bath and tucked you in bed. 

On the next day, the second years walked outside to the field with their magic brooms. They all waited and began conversations as they waited for their instructor. The sound of a whistle was heard across them. 

“Magic starts with muscles!” 

Vargas jumped in front of the group of students and struck a pose. Some students groaned as others smiled in excitement. 

“Muscles!” 

The students jump at the sight of you riding on his shoulder with a huge smile.

“Is that, the prefect of the Ramshackle dorm?” “I’ve seen them yesterday inside Trein’s class.” “Awww! They look so tiny!” “Kawaii!”  

“Um, Coach Vargas,” Riddle called, “What is (y/n) doing here with us?” 

“Yeah. From what I heard yesterday, aren’t they supposed to be Crewel?” Kalim followed.  

“You see, fellow bean sprouts, Crewel made a deal to pass (y/n) to us staffs one by one. And today, I get to be the one to take care of them until later! And do now worry, I will be taking good care of them and show them every way to get these muscles!”  

Vargas did another muscular pose as you let out a giggle. “Ahem- But for now, we need to focus on class. I want everyone to get on to your broom and loop around the field 20 times.” 

Few students groaned; others remained silent. They began doing as they were told to do. In the middle of class, you grew bored watching them flying. You let out a frown and pat his head. 

“What’s wrong, little sprout?” 

“I’m bored. I wanna get down.” 

He laughed. “Okay okay, I’ll get you out.” 

Vargas lifted you from his shoulder and placed you down on the ground. You then ran around the grass. 

“Don’t go too far and out of my sight!” 

A few moments later, Crowley barges into the field and strolls toward the muscled coach. 

“Crowley, what brings you here?” Vargas questioned. 

“Well, I have nothing much to do, and I also want to see my little hatchling!” 

“Your... little hatchling?” 

“Why, (y/n) of course!” 

Crowley looked to the side to see your little figure on the grass, playing with dandelions. 

“Ah, and they’re right there! My little hatchling!” 

You look to the side to see the crow man walking towards you. “Hi Mister Crowley! What are you doing here?” 

Crowley let out a gasp, “My, why do you people ask like you don’t want me here?” He let out a fake tear from his eye and pulled you up. “I just want to see how my precious child is! For I am gracious!” 

You tilted your head from his words. “Um... your precious child? But-” 

“(y/n)! I almost forgot,” Vargas called. He handed you a black and white fur coat that is your size. “Here’s the coat Crewel left for you. It’s pretty chilly out here and we don’t want you to catch a cold.” 

You smiled and took the fur coat, “Thank you, Uncle Vargas!” 

As you wore the coat, Vargas looked at Crowley, “And you, please don’t bother the kid. They’re doing fine without you.” 

The masked man scoffed and carried you up. “How about you? Don’t you have a class to teach?” 

“As you can see, the students are training on their brooms and testing their skills and speed. They have also experienced thanks to me, and I’m sure they’ll be fine. And how about YOU? Are you sure you don’t have anything else to do? Or you’re just ignoring them and trying to use (y/n) as an excuse?” 

Crowley let out a dramatic gasp and dropped you. “Oh, that is absurd! I would never do such a thing!” 

As the two adults began fighting, you pouted in pain from being dropped. You look to the side to see the magic broom lying on the bench. Curiosity grew to you, and you sneakily crawled your way into it. 

“I’m sorry, I cannot let you take care of (y/n) while you’re in charge of a class.” 

“In case you forgot, Trein and Crewel managed to watch them yesterday while lecturing.” 

“Well, that is because they are inside their classroom. It is more dangerous to bring (y/n) out here where they can get lost easily. What if they get hurt!?” 

“Mister Crowley! Uncle Vargas! Look! I’m flying!” 

“Yes yes, that is wonderful, dear- WAIT WHAT!?” 

The two halt their bickering and darted to their side to see you floating on the broom above their height. Panic washed through them. 

“(y/n), bean sprout, please get down from the broom. It’s too dangerous.” Vargas yelled. 

“But it looks fun! Everyone else is flying.” 

“I know kiddo. That is because they are experienced and were taught by me. How about you slowly get down here so I can teach you safely?” 

“I could but... I don’t know how to get down- WOAH!” 

The broom suddenly drove forward quickly and then stopped. It repeated once more but in reverse. The two men yelled your name as you zoomed upwards and towards the sky. 

“Shit,” cursed Vargas. “Dire! Do something, will you!?” 

“ME!? Why do I always have to do everything around here?” 

Vargas only gave Crowley a displeased look and silently growled.

😶

#twst x reader #twst imagine this #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst mc #twst imagines #x reader #twst crewel #divus crewel #twisted wonderland crewel #twst crowley #crowley #twisted wonderland crowley #twst trein #mozus trein #twisted wonderland trein #twst vargas #ashton vargas #twisted wonderland vargas #twst sam #twisted wonderland sam #twisted wonderland x reader #twst child au

[twinklelilstarkey]

Past Lovers - Eddie Munson

Words: 3.1k+ Type: Fluff Summary: You and Eddie dated years ago, but, with time, you two grew apart. Now, in high school, you're forced to speak once more. Warnings: GenderNeutral!Reader [no pronouns used]. Idiots in love. Mentions of an age gap.

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

You met Eddie Munson in primary school. He’s older than you, but that never changed anything. You liked him a lot. Enough for your parents to know, your friend’s parents to know, and maybe even Eddie’s family to know. It’s one of those crushes people have when they’re a kid, and everyone just seems to find it the sweetest and most loving action of humanity.

Hawkin’s a small town too, word got spread out fast among the moms. But, when you’re a kid, it doesn’t really matter. If people need to know about your love, then they will. Even when, at the time, you had never talked to Eddie.

It was in middle school when the moms had calmed down, that you had your first conversation with him. He was extremely friendly and accepted you into his group of friends quicker than anyone expected. Then, with time, your actual relationship started. Your parents thought they were dreaming when they first heard of it.

It was an innocent relationship, of course. It was about holding hands more than anything else. It was cute and no one liked to mess with it. You two became, practically, best friends at that time too. You knew everything about each other and were always there for one another. Cutely, this relationship lasted.

What broke it up was high school. As you said, he was older and had to move on with school. And, now, you guess that him going down the ramp of the parking lot to enter a new building was too much for you. You were the one that put an end to the relationship. Your friend’s jaws were on the floor. You two promised to “still be friends”, and Eddie walked off to his new future - right on the other side of the street.

Because your relationship, if you can even call it that, was so innocent and the two of you were so young, nothing really 'mattered'. Yes, you considered yourself depressed for a few good days, but as soon as you made new friends in your classes, you quickly overcame it. As cold-hearted as that sounds.

Now, it has been years since you last talked to Eddie. The two of you have changed so much with time. You’re a senior now, and so is Eddie, for the second time. This has been the year where you’ve seen him the most in class, but you’ve always tried to never look at him for too long. You’re scared that he might not even remember you anymore. You don’t want to seem like a creep.

Eddie also changed. His crowd never really did, he stayed with them and even got himself into a D&D club. All of which you heard about when you were still in middle school. When you saw him in high school, all of it was different. He was different, very different. You could never tell that the difference remained in his physical features but it was enough for you to keep your distance.

When he had first seen you again, you remember that the two of you exchanged a little smile. You might not know this part but, right after, the two of you looked at each of your friend groups with your eyes widened. A mix of panic and excitement. That was probably the biggest interaction that the two of you had in years.

Now, everything seems to change. Both you and Eddie are seniors and share a class. Mrs. O’Donnel's, to be exact. You never really heard good things about her from your older friends, but you still got into her class. You never reacted much when you saw that Eddie was in the same class as you. Again, you two haven’t talked in years. Why would it change now?

But Mrs. O’Donnel just had the brilliant idea of… a project.

“Eddie Munson can pair up with you if that is alright.” She had said to you.

Just as the teacher announced the activity, everyone had easily arranged themselves into pairs for the project. Due to you not having any friends in this class, you found yourself all alone. You talked to Mrs. O'Donnel in hopes of her finding you someone to work with… She got you Eddie as a partner.

She quickly ordered everyone to finish up sitting with their friends, and you know you just have to do it. Even if it doesn't go well, the quicker you start to do it, the faster it will be over.

You turn back around to face the class, and everyone is already up on their feet and connecting desks. You walk back to your seat, grab your things, and make your way to the back of the classroom. Eddie is just a few steps away from you, distracted by what’s outside and with the pencil that is being perfectly balanced on one of his fingers.

You take a few more steps and that is enough for him to finally react, noticing someone in his peripheral vision. You offer him a very small and shy smile and walk up closer to his desk. It was, truly, the one with the last remaining seat in the entirety of the classroom.

“Can I sit here?” You ask him.

Eddie didn’t move for the first seconds after you asked that.

He felt his heart pump a little too fast as soon as he noticed that it was you that was standing right in front of him. Time seemed to freeze when he laid his eyes on you. Frozen enough for him to forget what you said. Eddie doesn’t even have headphones to act as if he had been distracted and limited to the sound of his music.

A nice way to start, for sure.

“Of course, yeah.” He tells you with a quick nod of his head.

What follows after is what makes the smile on your face stretch into a wide one. Eddie, very clumsily, begins to move all of his stuff to his side of the table, leaving you some space to work. And his 'clumsiness' is to the point of almost making three things fall and at least the other two slip from his fingers, right as he went to grab them.

When everything is arranged, you take your seat beside him and put down your things on the desk. You turn to leave your bag in the back of your chair and finally face the teacher once more. Mrs. O'Donnel is still waiting for everyone to be done sitting down so she can finally start giving out the instructions for the project.

Eddie tries to keep his eyes on his teacher as well, but he finds himself checking if you’re actually real and sitting beside him a few too many times.

You two haven’t talked in so long, he can’t help but not believe anything that is happening. Eddie makes sure to look around the room to see if there was anyone behind this. Someone that could look as if they had made you do this. But he finds nobody.

Under the table, he discreetly cleans the sweat off his palms and leans back on his chair, trying to appear relaxed.

You two wait to hear all of the instructions, and Eddie watches as you’re the only one at the table taking notes and even going for the pages that the teacher asks you to. He watches you, maybe not as discreetly this time, reading every word. Sometimes he even catches you mouthing the words as you read in this loud room, just like you did when you were younger.

Mrs. O’Donnel gets done with the explanation and orders everyone to start to work. That should’ve snapped Eddie awake from his thoughts, but it didn’t.

You finish reading and look up to think about the exercise. That is when you notice Eddie looking at you, and you look back at him, a small smile already involuntarily growing on your face.

“What?” You ask softly.

“Hm?” Eddie asks, startled, not expecting you to say anything to him.

“You were looking at me, I thought you wanted to say something.” You explain to him.

“Oh… No, no. I was just…”

You wait for him to finish but he just stares at you, nervously grabbing his pencil again and twirling it on his fingers. You offer him a smile instead, just a way to say that he can ignore whatever just happened, and you look back down at your book.

“Why are you paired up with me?” He asks, mostly just spitting the question that is killing him inside.

You look up at him again and stay silent for just a second.

“I don’t know anyone here, so I didn’t have anyone to pair up with.” You explain honestly, “Mrs. O’Donell told me to sit with you.”

Eddie shouldn’t have felt disappointed, but he did, just a tiny bit. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked anything and just enjoyed the fact that you’re sitting with him in the first place. No matter if you were forced or you really just wanted to.

“Is that okay?” You ask him, noticing his slight change of expression.

“What is okay?”

“That I pair up with you.” You tell him, “I could go and ask for us to do the project individually if you’d prefer that.”

“No, no, no!” He tells you quickly, “Of course, it’s okay.”

You visibly relax with what he says and you stare into his eyes for just a little longer. Eddie feels his heart race, and it goes at a pace just as quick as yours, and the two of you look away rather quickly. You look down at your book, and Eddie looks down at his pencil.

For the next few minutes, the two of you just exchange words about the project. You divide some of the things that are in need of answering, and, unknowingly, while in the midst of work your eyes always stay on one another. You stare when you’re done with your part, and Eddie stares when you just begin a new part of the project’s exercises.

You write down your answer silently, ignoring how everyone in the classroom has begun to talk a bit louder than normal - just to be shushed right after by the teacher. You notice Eddie writing down his work in silence, and you stop, stealing a look at him.

You notice his curly hair, his brown doe eyes, his smooth skin, and his pink lips. All of him.

You stare at his shirt, right after. His necklace, the one with the guitar pick. You then look over at his hand, at his silver-colored rings shining with the many lights in the room, while in his other hand, he has a smaller ring. As well as a bracelet on his wrist.

You are caught as soon as Eddie finishes his answer. His eyes were already ready to look up at you for the same reason as yours. And the two of you just smile when you notice that you’re both staring.

“We haven’t talked in a while.” He finds himself saying.

“I know.” You say, doing a nod.

You bite in your smile, trying to stop making it so apparent that you’re actually ready to explode in happiness that he's talking to you. Or that he still knows you.

“I actually thought you didn’t remember me anymore.” You admit to him.

“What?” He asks, completely surprised. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “It’s just been a good few years.”

“Yeah, but…” He purses his lips in thought, looking around the room a bit out of habit. He turns back to face you and whispers. “People usually don’t forget the one person who broke their heart into millions of tiny pieces.”

His tone is playful, and you notice how he’s holding back his smile as well. With a grin of your own, you shake your head at him and face your book, not wanting to fall into a smiling mess all over again.

Your heart keeps going with its fast rhythm and you feel the way your stomach is turning. God, you are a lost cause when near this man.

“I’m sorry about breaking your heart.” You tell him, still fighting your own smile and showing him just a lipped grin.

He nods and looks away dramatically.

“I’ll think about it.”

When Eddie looks back at you, you are smiling brightly while looking down at your book again. He finds himself smiling, right away, looking at your grin as if it’s not making his brain blast every code in the book just so he doesn’t panic.

The two of you make casual conversation after that. You work, and, in the midst of written sentences, you would stop just to ask him something else. Eddie told you about his friends, his new friends, his band, and the D&D club. But he also asked you a bunch of other stuff. He was interested in knowing how you were doing in school, how your family is going and all else he could think about.

It was such a comfortable conversation that you didn’t even notice how many times Mrs. O’Donnel paused the class to give more instructions about the assignment (or just told everyone to shut their mouths and work). It was like the two of you were in your own little world. Undisturbed and, overall, incredibly happy.

You laughed at Eddie’s jokes enough for him to feel his heart grow full, and he smiled the whole time you were speaking, making you feel as if your body was on fire.

Unconsciously, you two had moved to sit closer as you spoke and did close to little work. It wasn’t until you laid your hand over the table, to hold your book, that you noticed it. Eddie’s hand is just there, right next to yours as he holds onto his pen. His hand was relaxed as he spoke, and you just happen to accidentally graze your hand on his.

Your skin felt as if it had been lightened up, the cold of his rings had touched the back of your hand. It was weird how your body was reacting. You look up at Eddie as you did it, to find him looking at your hands, side by side. He had just stopped talking as he was reacting in mental and silent high-pitched screams of excitement in his mind.

“Sorry.” You say quickly, not wanting to interrupt him, but a little giggle slips out.

“Uh- No, no. It’s fine.” He says, chuckling a bit too.

He, with his own time, rebegins talking, and you continue to work. Eddie feels his body wanting to freeze in place whenever you look at him, even when it's just simply showing him that you are still paying attention. This whole thing feels like something out of a dream.

The bell rings through the hallways, and everyone in front of you in class is quick to start getting ready to leave. Both you and Eddie look up at the teacher as she shouts the last instructions on the delivery of the project over the sound of your classmates. You two don't speak to each other until she's done.

“My mom misses you at dinner time.” You tell, still in the theme of conversation, “Something about no one appreciating her cooking like you did.”

Eddie smiles widely at your words, and you feel your heart want to come out of your chest. He waits beside you as you finish putting your things away in your bag, and you can not put into words how much that little action made you melt. Eddie looks down at you as you pack and stands just beside you.

“I do miss her food.” He tells you, making you look up at him and smile breathtakingly.

You think for a second.

Should you do it?

“Are you free after school?” You ask him.

Eddie almost chokes in his own spit, but he forces himself to answer either way after staring in awkward silence again.

“Yeah, I don’t have a meeting with the club today.”

Anxiety burns your insides and the possibility of rejection marks your brain, but you decide to do it.

“Would you like to go out?” You ask it quickly. “Just the two of us…”

Eddie stares at you, his smile falls and his body goes rigid.

To you, that reaction just makes you panic. You feel as if you just lost your ground and the world is ready to swallow you whole. You have actually done the most embarrassing of things ever.

Eddie just stares and stares. No matter how many seconds go by, he doesn’t say anything. And that only makes an expression of disappointment appear and devour your beautiful smile right off your face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.” You tell him, “It would just be for the sake of the old days, you know?”

The room has gone terrifyingly silent as the only people that remain in the classroom are the two of you.

“And then you could eat at my house.” You finish telling your plan.

Your voice had been confident and light at the start, and now it has become nothing but a mumble. A weak voice as your body prepares for the biggest rejection of your life.

But Eddie isn’t going to reject you, not even if they paid him. He was caught off guard in every sense of the word, and, deep down, he was thinking about asking you the same thing when the two of you were just talking in class. He had decided not to do it due to his fear of embarrassment and destruction of such a good time.

Unknowingly, he’s doing that exact thing to you.

You stare at him for just a little longer, and Eddie finally snaps awake when you look at the door of the room hesitatingly. You clearly want to leave the room, and that is when it clicks for him. He left you in silence this entire time.

“Yes. Yes, of course, I want to.”

You frown as you bring your eyes back to him and stay silent.

“Wait...” You chuckle in disbelief, “Really?” You ask him.

“Yeah. I was thinking about asking you the same thing- just not the part about eating your mom’s food, of course. That would’ve been weird.” He starts to ramble and, to his relief, your smile comes back.

“Really?” You ask again.

“Yes!” He assures you.

You smile up at him and finally bring your bag over your shoulder. He smiles back, and you are lost for words for quite a bit.

“Can we- uh, meet by your van after school, then?” You ask softly.

He nods, looking at you patiently as he fights his urge to celebrate by screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Cool.” You say a little awkwardly, also lost in your happiness. “I should probably go now, my friends are waiting for me.”

Eddie agrees, and the two of you begin to make your way out of the room. He also makes sure you go through the door first, moving his arms and hands dramatically to let you pass, grating another smile from you.

When out of the room, you two give each other a last look, just to see in which direction you are going, and you notice that you’re going opposite ways.

You offer him a last smile and wave, and he does too.

“See you after class.” You tell him.

“See you after class.” He parrots.

The two of you turn around and begin walking. In great disbelief, you look over your shoulder to watch Eddie walk away and disappear into the crowd. You let out a scoff of pure surprise and look at the ground with widened eyes.

“Holy fucking shit.” The two of you mutter at the same time.

I really hope you enjoyed this!! I had so much fun writing it <3 AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE 4.4K FOLLOWERS AND THE 1K NOTES ON MY LAST POST!!!! OMG!!

Masterlist ~ Lmk of any ideas for Eddie <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie mundon x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things Eddie

[dopaminerjic]

“Treated like animals” – Palestinian children suffer inhumane treatment in Israeli-run prisons

8 in 10 child detainees were physically beaten while 9 in 10 experienced verbal abuse

RAMALLAH, October 29 2020 – Children in the Israeli military detention system face inhumane treatment such as beatings, strip searches, psychological abuse, weeks in solitary confinement, and being denied access to a lawyer during interrogations, new research by Save the Children found.

The charity consulted more than 470 children from across the West Bank who have been detained over the past ten years. It found that most children were taken from their homes at night, blindfolded, with their hands painfully bound behind their backs. Many of the respondents said they were not told why they were being arrested or where they were being taken.

“They destroyed the front door, entered my room, covered my face with a bag and took me away…They told my father that I would return the next day. I returned after 12 months,” said Abdullah* who was detained six times as a child.

Every year, hundreds of Palestinian children are detained by Israeli authorities. They are the only children in the world who are systematically prosecuted through military, rather than civilian, courts.[1] The most common charge is throwing stones – for which the maximum sentence is 20 years in prison

After their arrest, children are transferred to interrogation centres, where they report being forced to lie face-down on the metal floor of military vehicles, denied bathroom breaks, deprived of food and water, and physically assaulted.

“They arrested me on my way to school at a military checkpoint. They searched my bag and spoke to me in Hebrew – a language I do not understand. They handcuffed me, threw me on the floor and stepped on my back,” said Fatima* who was detained when she was 14.  

Children described the detention experience as “torturous”, “dehumanising”, “humiliating” and “terrifying”.

Amina* who was detained at 15 years old, said: “You do not feel like a human being in that place. We were treated like animals.”

Save the Children’s consultation showed that:

81% endured physical beatings and 89% suffered verbal abuse.

52% were threatened with harm to their families.

86% were subjected to strip searches, leaving them humiliated and ashamed.

88% did not receive adequate and timely healthcare, even when explicitly requested.

Almost half (47%) were denied contact with a lawyer.

Issa*, who was arrested when he was 15 years old, said: “While I was being interrogated, they kept shouting at me, and they put a gun on the table in front of me to scare me. They said bad, bad words. I don’t want to think about those words.

“Prison was an ugly place. They would set off alarms at midnight, 3am and 6am so we could never sleep for long. If you’re not awake at these alarms, you will be beaten. I was beaten with wooden sticks a few times. I still have back pain now because of a particularly bad beating.”

Jeremy Stoner, Save the Children’s Regional Director for the Middle East, said:

“Children as young as twelve have told us about truly inhumane treatment in the Israeli military detention system. There is no possible justification for setting dogs on children, beating them, or shackling them to metal chairs. Whatever they are accused of, regardless of guilt or innocence, these children must be treated first and foremost as children – with all the special protections this entails.

“No child should be experiencing such cruelty at the hands of those who are meant to be looking after them. Children should no longer be prosecuted in military courts – and there has never been greater urgency to release children from prison as systemic ill-treatment is compounded by the threat of COVID-19 in detention centres. Only with these changes can we prevent irrevocable damage being inflicted on generations of Palestinian children.”

Kevin Watkins, CEO of Save the Children UK, said:

“It’s been over eight years since the UK’s own Children in Military Custody report highlighted the devastating injustices faced by Palestinian children in Israeli military custody. Since then, thousands more detained children have suffered systematic abuse, all while the recommendations made to fix a broken justice system have gone nowhere.

“The UK Government constantly calls on the Government of Israel to ensure human rights are respected, but words have so far not resulted in action. Our findings paint a stark picture – of young boys and girls subjected to serious mental and physical abuse, resulting in scars they will carry for years to come. The Israeli military detention system continues to render Palestinian children entirely defenceless. The Coronavirus crisis and the heightened risk this poses to young detainees means the UK must renew its commitment on this issue and stand up for Palestinian children.”

Save the Children is calling for:

The UK to use its influence with Israel to help end the detention of Palestinian children under Israeli military law once and for all.

The Government of Israel to respect international law, and to end the detention and mistreatment of children under military law. Israeli authorities must immediately adopt practical safeguards to improve the situation for children who are currently detained. This includes ending the systemic ill-treatment of children, establishing protection and safeguards for detainees, and providing adequate services to support girls and boys to recover from their experiences. 

The Palestinian Authority (PA) to increase rehabilitative support for children who have been detained, including psychological support. The PA should also offer support services aimed at reducing stigma associated with child detainees and supporting their reintegration into communities and education.

ENDS

*Name changed to protect identity

[1] Defence for Children International (DCI-P), Military detention, see https://www.dci-palestine.org/issues_military_detention

Stripped, beaten and blindfolded: new research reveals ongoing violence and abuse of Palestinian children detained by Israeli military

Ramallah, 10 July – Palestinian children in the Israeli military detention system face physical and emotional abuse, with four out of five (86%) of them being beaten, and 69% strip-searched, according to new research by Save the Children. Nearly half (42%) are injured at the point of arrest, including gunshot wounds and broken bones. Some report violence of a sexual nature and some are transferred to court or between detention centres in small cages, the child rights organisation said.

Save the Children and a partner organisation consulted 228 former child detainees from across the West Bank, detained from between one and 18 months, and found that most children are beaten, handcuffed and blindfolded during arrest. They are also interrogated at unknown locations without the presence of a caregiver, and are often deprived of food, water and sleep, or access to legal counsel, according to the research. The main alleged crime for these detentions is stone throwing, which can carry a 20-year sentence in prison for Palestinian children.

The new research comes as the UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967, presents evidence today to the Human Rights Council on Palestinian children in detention. It is estimated that there are between 500 and 1000 children held in Israeli military detention each year.

Save the Children says these practices are a major and long-standing human rights concern and is calling for the UK Government to support an immediate moratorium on Israeli military authoritues arresting, detaining and prosecuting children.

Khalil*, who was detained when he was 13, said that he did not receive essential healthcare:

“I had an injury in my leg, I had a cast, and had to crawl to be able to move. I felt my body being torn apart. I had no canes to help me walk, I kept asking soldiers for help during the transfer, but no one helped me.” 

The new research follows Save the Children’s 2020 report “Defenceless” and finds that the impact of physical and emotional abuse during detention has soared, with profound consequences on children’s ability to recover.

Khalil* continued: “The soldier threatened to kill me when he arrested me for the second time. He asked me, ‘Do you want the same fate as your cousin?’ as he had been killed. He promised me that I would have the same fate and die, but that he would send me to prison first. He told me that he’s coming back for me – and every day, I wait for that day to come.”

Some children reported that they believed different types of abuse were intended to push them to admit things that were untrue in order to incriminate others, including family members.

Yasmeen*, the mother of Ahmed* detained when he was 14, said: “During interrogation, they convinced Ahmed* to tell on his brother in exchange for his release. He was naive and didn’t understand what was happening. He said what they told him to say; a few days later, they came to our house and arrested my other son.” 

Save the Children’s new consultation showed that:

During arrest, 42% of children were injured, including gunshot wounds and broken bones, and 65% of children were arrested during the night, mostly between midnight and dawn. Half of all arrests took place in the children’s home.

The majority of children experienced appalling levels of physical and emotional abuse, including being beaten (86%), being threatened with harm (70%), and hit with sticks or guns (60%). 

Some children reported violence and abuse of a sexual nature, including being hit or touched on the genitals and 69% reported being strip searched. 

60% of children experienced solitary confinement with the length of time varying from one 1 day to as long as 48 days.  

Children were denied access to basic services, 70% said they suffered from hunger and 68% said they didn’t receive any healthcare.   

58% of children were denied visits or communication with their family while detained. 

The majority of children detained are boys – a trend reflected by the survey, with boys representing 97% of the respondents.

Children are increasingly unable to fully return to their normal life following release from detention, with the number of children having frequent nightmares rising from 39% to 53% and those suffering from insomnia or difficulty sleeping rocketing from 47% to 73%, compared to the children surveyed in 2020.

Lana* the mother of Mohammed* who was detained when he was 14, said: “After my son was released, he wanted to stay by my side and sleep next to me. He refuses to leave the house. It has been a challenge for us; I feel that he is traumatized. He was arrested Tuesday night, now every Tuesday he feels they are coming for him.”  

Save the Children’s research also showed how children’s care and hope for the future decreased from 96% in 2020 to 68% in 2023, an alarming increase in a context with limited psychosocial support available.

Save the Children is calling on the UK Government to support an immediate moratorium on Israeli military authorities arresting, detaining and prosecuting children.

James Denselow, Head of Conflict and Humanitarian Policy at Save the Children UK said: “It’s crucial the UK Government use its close relationship with the Government of Israel and seek the immediate halt of the military arrest, detention, and prosecution of children. There can be no reason for subjecting children to this kind of violence and abuse, depriving them of access to food and healthcare, or denying them basic fair trial rights.

“The Government has previous said it is committed to securing improvements to the practices experienced by children in detention in Israel. We must see the Government step up its efforts by calling for a complete moratorium on the detention of children by the Israeli military. No child should be subject to a system that does not respect children’s rights and international law.”

Jason Lee, Save the Children’s Country Director in the occupied Palestinian territory, added:  “Each year approximately 500-700 Palestinian children come into contact with the Israeli military court system; they are the only children in the world to experience systematic prosecution in military courts. Our research shows – once again - that they are subject to serious and widespread abuse at the hands of those who are meant to be looking after them.

“There’s simply no justification for beating and stripping children, treating them like animals or robbing them of their futures. This is a child protection crisis that can no longer be ignored. There must finally be an end to this abusive military detention system.”

ENDS

*Name changed to protect identity

[multimagical]

The Ghosts of Melbrew

Book 1 of 12 in the Multimagical Series by Lillian R.S.

Emeline Orman was sixteen when she and her parents moved across the country to the coastline of Washington state. A small town known as Melbrew sat comfortably in the middle of thick woods, so tiny and unknown that it doesn't show up on any maps, making it the perfect spot for malicious activity to go unnoticed.

On her first day of school, she met some rather weird people, who all shared a strange similar interest. This little group had quite the reputation for their knowledge of the town's not-so-secret dark history... as well as all of the unusual things that have been reported to them. It all started with the rich Humphrey family tragedy back in the 1800s, where for years it has been speculated that the mother killed her husband and children.

Being very eager to get to the bottom of all the town's mysteries, one thing leads to another as discovery after discovery begins to pile up, ranging from random holes in the ground, to suspicious buildings in the middle of the woods. Secret doors, tunnels, and books that talk about nonsense seem like they lead nowhere, with no connections!

Though perhaps the most mysterious oddity of them all is the otherworldly gateway surrounded by old fences, tied back to the founding family.

CW: Strong language, murder, and descriptions of gore

34 Total Chapters!

Total Word Count: 142,450

For more information on the Multimagical Series, check my pinned post!

Chapter 1 - "Welcome to Melbrew"

6,025 words

My wattpad / main: @lillianrs

Friendly criticism is welcome for future reference!

Continue reading below the cut, and enjoy! <3

●●●

     It's a dark evening as I begin writing this book. A night where the trees creak outside my windows, with harsh, howling winds in the forlorn wilderness. I'm not sure what finally possessed me to tell this story after all this time, but one thing I've learnt is that you should always trust your gut. So, I'm going where the keys take me, as I trace through my memories.

     It began back when I was only sixteen. So young, so unprepared, so naive, almost innocent. Nothing could've possibly warned me for the journey that lie ahead, for the things I've seen and the places I'd been. For then, in only my teens, my life changed in more ways than I could've ever imagined. I wasn't prepared to have my reality turned on its head, I wasn't prepared to see the truth, and I most certainly wasn't prepared to see the things that were not meant to be.

     I've stayed in this town my whole life. I've seen faces come and go, and am good friends with the ones who've stayed. This place is different than it once was, but it still has some traces of its cursed past, though now faded from time. Somedays it feels strong, like I can feel it through the roots in the Earth. Yet other times it feels distant, and unwilling to show.

     I've experienced a lot in my life, yet nothing has ever compared to the things that I had seen at the young age of seventeen. No one ever believed me, believed us. We never maintained solid proof, all of our camera evidence was destroyed during the ritual, but us seven know the truth... well, us seven, and the others silently involved who now refuse to acknowledge it. But those are all faces who have gone, to where, I'm not sure.

     So, I suppose I'm here now, the next Robert J. Wright, the next Lord Lutho, the next Jane Howell who will become a mere conspiracy in the darkest corners of a library, waiting to be discovered, and inspire the next generation of those who seek the truth. I work at the school now as the librarian, and I take responsibility in preserving the stories here. Though I feel that now in my present, the whispering warnings we've heard long ago are to soon reign true... I just hope that the message can reach others, before it's too late. There's only so much we can do.

--------

     My parents and I had to move across the country when I was sixteen years old. They are both photographers, and had gotten a job offer from a studio in Metalwood City. This studio in particular wanted them to focus on photographing both rural and urban life for usage in magazines and websites. Though we couldn't do this where we had previously lived, as the job specifically required the photos to come from the state of Washington. It had a much better pay than their previous job, and my parents were up for a change of pace, so they took them up on the offer.

     Metalwood was a short 40 minute drive from a small rural town called Melbrew. Living there was extremely cheap, and my parents figured that they could run between the town and city for their pictures. Unfortunately, they were unaware that cheap living often comes with a different type of price to pay.

     This town was founded by two brothers with the last name Melbrew, of course. It lay near the west coast of Washington state, with only a fifteen minute drive to the Pacific ocean. It was kind of in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by lakes and forest on all sides. That was the extent of my knowledge at the time of moving. I wondered if it would even be worth it to live there, but that decision wasn't mine to make. I never got to have a say in much.

     My parents had sprung the moving announcement on me out of nowhere, leaving me with only a few weeks left before the move, the process started immediately. I was mad and upset, but I knew that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I had to suck it up and go along with it, however sad it may have been. It was hard.

     I enjoyed the last few weeks with my friends the best I could, however good it would be to say a final goodbye to people you would probably never see again. We all promised to stay in touch, but does anyone really? I'll move on and make new friends, and they'll soon forget about me, only to be brought up occasionally with a "Hey, remember Emmy?". It's not sad, it's just realistic. But sticking to the positives, they weren't really the best of friends anyways.

     My last day was depressing, but also quite terrifying, considering I would be moving all the way from western Pennsylvania to the state of Washington. That was on the complete other side of the country!

     My nerves those final few days were dreadful, I remember them all vividly. The rapid heartbeat, the feeling of leaving everything I've ever known behind... It felt like a clock was ticking down to my death and rebirth. In a way I felt I was dying, as overly dramatic as that sounds. I would be leaving everything and starting again, but as scary as the thought was, it also excited me. The death was the hard part, the afterlife is the easy one.

     It took us a about a week to get there, as we had to drive the whole way, but I'm not going to get into the whole moving process as it isn't important. Lots and lots of feilds out in the rural parts of America. Day after day, hotel after hotel. It was almost surreal and creepy, especially at night. A part of me almost wished we had stayed in some sketchy motel that's the only thing on a stretch of road. Now that's where the fun is!

      I sighed a breath of relief when I was finally told that we were almost there. Slowly the wheat feilds turned to forests and trees, that's all there was, just trees. After a few minutes a giant wooden sign appeared, reading, "Welcome to Melbrew". The letters were faded and it was hard to read, but still ledgebale nonetheless.

     I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned off my music as curiosity took its hold on me. Rolling down my window, I stuck my head outside and let the wind and rain hit my face. The smell of water and pine was strong in the air, and the town was rather grey. The clouds in the sky paired with the looming trees blocked quite a bit of sunlight, it was rather gloomy.

     The forest was now less dense as houses stood next to each other, all with their own areas, lawns, and garages, decently spaced apart from each other. Before I knew it, we were pulling into a driveway. With the car now in park and silent, raindrops could be heard pounding against the roof. Of course now is when it begins to pick up and pour!

     It rained for a full two days after we got there, which made moving in much harder than it already was going to be. We didn't have very much stuff though, as taking too much across the country wouldn't be easy. Nevertheless, I was in love with the scenery. All the trees, the rain, the near darkness in midday. It was very cozy, to me, at least.

      My cat was definitely not happy with the car ride, so I'm sure the old senior boy was glad to be out of his carrying cage. His name was Sir. Bennington the Fifth... there were no other Benningtons. Child me just thought it was funny. Nowadays I call him Benny.

     The house that I would now have to call home was of a decent size and stood on a corner street. Its outer panels were beginning to peel, and vegetation coated the lawn with various plants and grasses. When the rain died down afternoon had turned to evening, and the sound of birds, owls, and crickets filled the misty darkened air.

     There was a humble little farm across the road from us, and a few other houses nearby. Other than that, it was pretty vacant, lying near the northern outskirts of the town by wooded area, though the whole town was surrounded by woods, so it's not that special a detail. It felt very secluded.

     I wished we could've moved before the school year started, but I guess I'm also glad it was early on in the year instead of later. I tried to look on the positive side, instead of being pessimistic once I got there and had to confront this new life. There was no point in being sad about something I couldn't change, as much as I wanted to be. I got my sadness out the weeks before, now it was time to move on. Is it toxic positivity? Maybe. I'll get over it.

     That first night felt so... different. I'm not sure how to describe it. The sound of the rain falling on the roof, the wind outside, the eerie quietness of everything else. My practically empty room with nothing but a bed and a box of clothes. The yellow lighting and old-fashioned floral wallpaper, paired with the old, dusty wooden floors that would creak beneath your feet. That smell of dirt, and the ticking of an ancient clock that was left behind. It all made me feel stuck in time.

     It was very difficult for me to fall asleep. New environments paired with the fear of going to a different school kept me tossing and turning all night. I feel that Benny could sense my discomfort, as he nudged my door open to come sit on my chest. It was only then that my mind felt enough at ease to drift off to the realm of dreams.

     My parents walked me to school on my first day to make sure that I didn't get lost and knew the way. The town is very small and half of it seemed to be abandoned, so I didn't see a need for it, but hey, whatever makes them happy. Once the school was in sight, though, they backed off and waved me goodbye.

     The school was on the other side of the town from me to the south, so it was quite a long walk, about half an hour. The elementary and middle school were separate, but kept in the same general area. They were all brick buildings under the cloudy, grey morning sky that only just then began to brighten. The American flag waved in the wind, the eerie quietness absorbing me once more.

     It wasn't all that grand, in fact, it was quite the opposite. It looked rather decrepit and run down, but not to the point where it looked horrid and grossly unsanitary. Well, I mean, there were a few broken windows boarded up, and vines and grass growing up the sides, but it wasn't, like, dirty.

     Really, I doubt anyone around here even notices the appearance, but my fresh new eyes did. Though despite the vintage look that the town carried, I could still tell that it used to be rather well-kept, even though some areas even looked abandoned nowadays. There was a history to this place, I could just feel it. It was in the air, and on the scars the buildings carried. The stories they could tell...

     I pushed on the double glass doors of the highschool, which were smudged and slightly stained with dirt. They closed behind me in an echoed click, seemingly sealing the outside world away as the sound of wind was left behind me. The main entrance wasn't very spacious, unlike my last school. It made me feel a little confined and claustrophobic, but I was sure I'd get used to it. I was sure I'd get used to everything, though maybe that was still my want to be positive talking.

     The door to my left had a sign reading, "Main Office'', and the door to my right had a sign that read, "Guidance Office", which were both carved into golden plates that now looked brown. Okay, good to know. That was all that was in the entrance hallway.

     I wiped my feet on the entrance mat and made my way to the hallway, though my shoes still squeaked against the tiles. On the wall was a little red sign with directions, which I followed to my homeroom, which would be to my right. The voices of fellow students began to fill my ears, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I began to feel anxious.

     "Hello, Emeline!" My teacher said as he saw me enter the classroom. I walked over to him and we shook hands. "Welcome to Melbrew High School! I'm Mr. Brown, and I'll be both your homeroom and algebra teacher. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me or one of the other staff members."

     I thanked him and he told me where to sit, so I took my seat, and sat quite awkwardly. My bookbag sat next to me on the floor, my phone gripped tightly in my hands. People continuously glanced over to me, I tried my best to ignore them. The whole place felt off.

     Not just off, though, it was straight up oldschool. The whole town was. There were no smart boards, nor overhead projectors. Just an old, green chalkboard. The lighting was also pretty dim and more... yellow? Yellow seems to be a favorable lighting choice here, I suppose. I obviously assumed that the budget was pretty low, as I haven't seen just a chalkboard in the class since I was in the third grade.

     As I waited in my seat, I looked around the room to the other students, who thankfully stopped starting at me. Two came up to greet me for a few seconds, but the rest either paid me no mind or just looked over to me. Some gave off weird, creepy vibes with their stares. I felt really out of place, it was kinda giving me impostor syndrome, to be honest. I felt like I shouldn't be there. Just the feeling of being the new kid, I guess.

     I began to get lost in my thoughts, staring into the abyss. That is until I jumped out of them due the unnecessarily loud overhead speakers. We all stood to say the pledge, then the announcements began, spoken by an upbeat girl, which seemed almost humorous to me given the boring scenery... well, either humorous or creepy, but you can be the judge of that.

     "Good morning, Melbrew students! Today is Monday, September 26th, 2016! For lunch today, the cafeteria will be serving spaghetti, tomorrow will be taco Tuesday! The breakfast for tomorrow will be pancakes! If you are going on Ms. Hogg's field trip this spring, your permission slips are due before Christmas break! There are still a few spots open for the book and biology clubs, so hurry and claim your spot fast before it's too late! Speaking of clubs, sign ups for the brand-new history club will be on Thursday, and they will meet every other week! Have a great day, Melbrew!"

     The announcements cut off and students resumed chatting with one another as we waited for the bell to dismiss us to first period. When it finally did, I stayed seated for geometry, while everyone else left. I didn't like the looks people gave me as people walked in for first period. Definitely felt like an invader. God, I was so out of place.

     Once geometry was over, I had to head to my second class, which was a study hall. I wasn't exactly sure where it was, though. It's easy to get lost in a place where every hallway looks the exact same. Everyone fled out of the classroom, except for me and one other student who was taking his time to leave. I guess I'll just go ask him.

     I approached the student, "Hello! I'm new to this school. Would you mind directing me to the library?" I asked as politely as I could.

     He paused what he was doing for a few seconds and looked up at me, before shaking his head and continuing on with what he was doing. He zipped up his backpack, stood up, and answered, "I'm going there. Just follow me."

     He spoke in a monotone, nonchalant voice. He said nothing else, and threw his bag over his shoulder as he walked out of the classroom, not even waiting for me. I hurried to follow him, feeling a bit awkward at his lack of acknowledgement.

     He was Asian with dark hair and lighter skin, though his face looked tired as bags sat under his eyes. He wore an old, grey baseball team hoodie that was now stained with mud, and had a hole on the sleeve. His backpack looked like it was being held together by ductape alone.

     I attempted to make conversation, "Um. My name is Emeline Orman, do you mind me asking yours?"

     He didn't say or do anything at first, as he seemingly ignored me. Thankfully for my own self-assurance he eventually shrugged slightly and said, quietly, in the same toneless voice, "Kai."

     I observed the hallways a bit as we walked, which all had the same beige colored tiles lining the walls. This school's color palette definitely wasn't the prettiest sight for sore eyes, but then again it could always be worse. Gotta remember that optimism, look on the brightside. The brightside being that I felt like I was in a mystery novel, so I'll take it! The buzzing lights and lack of people definitely added a whole layer to the ambiance.

      When we got to the library, he walked off and sat down at a table in one of the more hidden sections of the place, tucked behind some bookshelves near a corner. He immediately pulled out an extremely old looking book from his bag.

     "What are you reading?" I asked curiously, but he just looked up at me, said nothing, and looked back down. I waited to see if he would say anything, but he didn't. "...Am I bothering you?"

     "Yes." he said, matter-of-factly, without taking his eyes off the book. He rested his head lazily against his hand.

     "Sorry, I'll leave you to it." I said, and walked away. I decided to go and look around, I really didn't want to upset people on my first day, that's a good way to make enemies and I was not looking for that, especially in a place that looks like a good setting for a horror movie. Next thing you know you'll be choked to death by a vampire, or something weird like that.

     It wasn't a really big library, but it did have a whole lot of stuff in it. Lots of bookshelves, tables, and doors leading to I don't know where. There were even a few computers, and that's saying something! Usually libraries have all sorts of them, but here there's only four, as it seemed. In a place that doesn't have smartboards, I consider it impressive. They were all already in use, three doing work, while another pulled up games.

     I spotted a little hallway near the back between some bookcases, and decided to check it out. It led to another room, with more tables, and a door with a sign saying STAFF ONLY. Standing against a wall was a large, moveable whiteboard on wheels. There were all kinds of papers on it, held down by magnets. Written in blue marker was a list of clubs, and what days they will meet. I read down the list, and then jumped a little when a teacher approached me unexpectedly.

     "Hello dear, I don't believe I've seen you before, are you that new girl? The Ormans?" The teacher asked as she entered the room. She looked like your classic, stereotypical librarian lady. She had glasses, her hair was in a bun, but she didn't look to be too old.

     "Oh, uh, yeah, that's me. I'm Emeline Orman." I said, and held out my hand to shake hers.

     "Well, Emily, I'm the school's librarian, Mrs. Robinson." She said, and looked to the club sheet I was just checking out, "Are you interested in any clubs? We hold most of the meetings here in this room. It's a good way to meet some new friends!"

     "I might be." I said, shrugging. "What do the different clubs do?"

     "Well, most of them are already full, but we're offering sign-ups for a new club, as you probably heard on the announcements, if you paid attention, that is." She said and chuckled, "Most kids don't. The history club is brand new and just starting out, but there are also a few spots still open for the book club. It's what you would imagine, we give you a book, and you read it, and talk about it with your peers. There's also the biology club, I believe there's quite a few spots still open for that one, if you're interested. Ms. Hogg runs that one. She does lots of expeditions in the woods to look for little critters."

     "Hm. Do you know what they'll be doing in the history club?" I asked.

     "Well, I'm not entirely sure just yet. This year is the first it'll be up. If I had to guess though, probably various activities involving history, I think specifically on the town. I manage the book club, but if you're interested in town history I would ask Mr. Marshall about it when you can. He's room 105."

     "Alright, will do. Thank you, Mrs. Robinson."

     "Anytime, love. If you ever have any questions, you can always find me here."

     I walked back out into the main part of the library and decided to look around a bit to get familiar with the layout of the place, and maybe look at a book or two. After getting bored of it, I went back to the little room with the whiteboard and sat at one of the white plastic tables that were lined against the walls. There was no one back there, so it made me feel more comfortable.

     The time dragged on since I had nothing to do, and I was actually happy when the bell rang for third period. It was time to go to English, which I had to find on my own. Luckily the English hallway was near the library, and all someone had to do was point down the hall. I stepped inside and greeted my teacher, Mrs. Palmer, and she showed me to my seat. Once English was over, I headed to my fourth period class, which was History. I went in and greeted Mr. Marshall. Once the period ended and the bell rang, I decided to ask him about the club.

     "Um, excuse me, Mr. Marshall? May I ask you about the history club?" I asked. "I heard about it on the announcements this morning, and I think that I might be interested in it."

     He looked a bit surprised, and turned to a kid walking out the door, "Dominik," he said, "Where are you heading?"

     "Computer, sir." He answered.

     "Tell Emeline here a bit about the history club. I think you'll be better at it."

     "Sure thing!" He said, and nodded his head out the door for me to follow.

     "Why couldn't he just tell me about it himself?" I asked once we were out of the class.

     "Well, you asked him at the end of the period, and it would take a while to explain. Plus, you're obviously new and I think that he thinks that this is the perfect way for you to make friends," he stopped in the middle of the empty hallway, and stuck out his hand, "My name's Dominik, but you already knew that, because he kinda said my name, but whatever. If you'd like new information on the name though it's Dominik with a K."

     I shook his hand, "Emeline, but you already knew that, too."

      We continued walking, "Did all your teachers introduce you today? I wouldn't doubt if people start calling you Emily, if they haven't already, I've never heard of Emeline. That's like Emily but with extra steps... no offense."

     "None taken. My parents just wanted to be different, but if it helps, you can just call me Emmy. Or Emma, or Em, or even Emily, really. They're all the same thing. Though usually I go by Emmy. Cute childhood nickname that just kinda stuck."

     "Well then, Emmy, allow me to give you a run down." He said, "First of all, NEVER drink from the water fountains after Douglass Bailey has touched them. Just- trust me on that. Secondly, there's a crap ton of weird stuff around here so don't freak out over something strange, it's probably normal. Oh, and third of all, you should DEFINITELY stay away from the northwest side of town. The abandoned part with the park, and the mountains, and the cemetery, and all that. That's practically begging for trouble."

    "Well, that's good to know, I guess. Why is the northwest bad?"

     "Oh, you'll see. Or more so hear. It's impossible not to. We are definitely going to be late for class, but that's okay. Not to brag or anything, but most of the teachers love me. How about my friend and I tell you a little bit about the club at lunch? The history in this place is... well, interesting, to say the least to a new comer." He said as we approached the class.

      "Dominik, you're late!" The teacher said as he walked in the class, but he didn't sound angry at all.

     "I was helping out the new girl Emeline, Mr. Adams. Sorry about that."

     "No problem, take your seats, and Emily, find a free one."

     Dominik whispered towards me, "told you." I smiled a bit.

     A kid with bright green hair started excitedly slapping an empty seat next to them, and Dominik gestured to it with his hand. I sat in it.

     "Who she?" The green-haired kid asked.

     "A new girl who is interested in the history club," Dominik answered.

     "Oh! That's fun, a newbie. I've always wanted to teach a newbie!" They said, and turned to me. "Hi, I'm Cameron! And despite what people may tell you, I am in fact a boy. Actually, I'm just straight up feral. I'm a menace to society. A man in the shadows. An enigma. Cameron Payne Johnson, certified local cryptid freak and proud!"

     "Oh, well, it's... nice to meet you? I think?"

     I looked between the both of them, and I wondered how they could look like they have completely different interests, yet be friends who apparently have common ground.

     Dominik looked like your typical smart person. He was decently tall, and had dark, curly hair that was pulled up into a little bun. A few short curls were falling down into his face, which he pushed back with his hand, then adjusted his glasses. He was black, but more on the lighter side. He was well-dressed, and wore a long beige lab coat over a dark red turtleneck sweater. He looked like the type of kid who would remind the teacher we had homework.

     Cameron on the other hand was short, and had naturally brown hair. Half of his head was shaved, and the part that wasn't shaved was dyed an obnoxiously bright neon green that felt like an assault to the eyes. He wore a black hoodie tied around his waist, and had ripped, black, skinny jeans. His shoes were dirty, old-looking converse. He worse a black T-shirt with a skull on the front, the black clothes contrasted his pale skin. He looked like a mix of punk and emo, and his nails were painted both black and green.

     Mr. Adams began teaching. Towards the end of the period, everyone began to chat again, "Did all of this school's budget go into this room, or what?" I asked.

     "Dude I don't know, man." Cameron responded, "I always see vids from other people and they've got like fancy tech boards and shit. Meanwhile I'm out here like what the fuck is a smartboard? And apparently libraries are supposed to have like, 30 computers in them? Fucking foreign, dude. These are like, our only computers. I have a theory that the principle is hording money."

     "It is way too early to start on your conspiracies, Cam." Dominik said.

     When the bell rang, class ended, and the three of us headed to the cafeteria together, as we three all had lunch 6th period. They took their packed lunches and sat down at a table, and I went up in line. Once I had my food, I took my tray and went to sit by the pair I just met.

     "Yo, I really wouldn't eat that," Cameron said, "That shit's prolly poisoned or sumthin." Dominik lightly smacked the back of his head.

     "Don't scare her, Cam!" He turned to me, "The food is just a little weird, and he's also like actually insane, so don't listen to him."

     "Oh, please. I'm not insane, I'm just eager for unexplainable shit to be real... and also the food is just one of the minor conspiracies about this place, and the poison is also just one version!"

     "Just let her eat in peace for her first day, she just got here! You can start on your rants tomorrow." He turned to me and whispered, "Though I definitely would advise to pack your lunch for the rest of your time here."

     "Um, okay," I said, laughing nervously. I then changed the subject, "So, about the history club..."

     "Oh, the history club," Cameron said, leaning back a little bit, his hands resting behind his head, and his legs intertwined with the poles under the table so he doesn't fall backwards, "whaddya wanna know 'bout it?"

     "Well, what will you be doing in it?"

     "Well, the question is," he said dramatically, leaning forward. He then slapped his hands on the table, "can we trust you?"

     "What? Why?"

     "It isn't just a history club, Mr. Marshall is just as interested in the weird stuff going on around here as we are. So, can we trust you with the secret of keeping the clubs activities classified?"

      "Of course, my life's boring, this sounds interesting." I said. Cameron narrowed his eyes at me.

     Dominik looked at Cameron, and signaled him to go on. "Keep it to a minimum, Cam, we don't wanna spill too much. Though chill out on the drama, man, it's just town history."

     "Oh, it's more than town history, Dominik!" Cameron exclaimed, "Okay, so, Mr. Marshall told us that he convinced the school that it'll be a club about, well, history, but, actually, we're gonna be divin' into the conspiracy theories of this place. He's a relatively young teacher, about in his 20s or some shit. He said he got an interest in all this because his grandfather knew the Humphrey family, you'll learn about them... If you join."

     "...Sooo, the school thinks it's just going to be about the town's history, but it's for town-centered theories?" I asked.

     "Yup! But there's evidence, oh believe me, there's evidence! It's just not widespread enough. Most people don't even know about the murders. Not to freak you out or anything. It was a long time ago."

     We went on to eat our lunch, having casual conversation... as casual as a conversation can get when someone like Cameron is leading it. Afterwards I was headed to my 7th period class, which was my language class. Soon before the bell rang to start class, a short, bored-looking asian girl walked in. She had to have been about the ages of twelve to thirteen, but visually appeared to be younger. She had bangs and two ponytails on the sides of her head, tied with blue bows.

      She slammed her books down on my desk, "Get out of my seat or I'll throw hands, freckle face."

     "Kimora!" The teacher said, coming into the class, "We will not be 'throwing hands' and calling names in this class. Emeline, could you please pick a different desk? Kimi came in late today, and she's very picky about her seat."

     "Oh, of course," I said, and she greeted me. Her name was Madame Martian. I went and took a different seat, and went on with the class. Kimi was apparently a smart middle schooler who got to come to the high school for language class.

     Finally it was time for my last classes of the day. My 8th period class was gym on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I had another period of my science class, which was my 9th and last class of the day.

     Since today was Monday, I had gym. We played badminton, which was fun. That fun didn't last for long though, as nothing could've ever prepared me for my biology class. Not the eeriness, nor the rumors or weird conspiracies. It was the final slice of my introductory cake of what I was about to be subjected to for the rest of the year.

     It was a classroom near the back of the school, and the walk there felt kind of... off. But it was a different kind of off than the off everything else was. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it seemed as if all the other rooms in that hallway were unused. To the left, there was one final hall of doors, and it led to a dead end. At the end of the main hallway I was walking down, there was a pair of doors leading to an outside parking lot. Towards the end of the hall, I headed into the room on the right.

     There I was faced with an odd looking classroom, older than the others. As if the other rooms had touch ups done over the years but this one didn't. I noticed immediately that this was the class that had that one boarded-up window I spotted that morning.

     Unlike my other teachers, Ms. Hogg didn't come and greet me, and didn't really look too inviting on me greeting her, so I kept to myself. I sat down in a free seat, feeling very uncomfortable, even more so than before. The worst it had been all day. God, I could've puked. It was so off that it became physical, sickening.

     Ms. Hogg had a vibe to her, and not a good one. She looked both old and young at the same time, and gave me the impression that's she's killed someone before, but I have no idea why. It felt very strange, I was deeply unsettled by that teacher, she gave me a bad feeling in my gut, right down to her voice and physique.

     During class she talked about the anatomy of different animals, and briefly mentioned a project that we'll be starting tomorrow. This was a very biological focused biology class. I thought we were going to be learning about DNA or whatever, but okay, sure.

     I left the class feeling uneasy, and totally ready to leave that damn building and go back to my house. I was caught off guard and startled when I was suddenly pushed to the cold ground.

     "Move out of the way!" A tall blonde girl from my class yelled in a mean tone, "You should pick up the pace next time, I don't like to be slowed down!" She stomped away, laughing with two friends as her heeled shoes clicked against the ground, echoing throughout the confined halls.

●●●

●●●

#lillianrs #Lillian RS #Multimagical #book series #queer writers #writers on tumblr #books #The Ghosts of Melbrew #TGOM Chapter 1 #writing #my writing #creative writing #fantasy series #mystery #paranormal #full chapter #writeblr

[citylawns]

rhi, have you ever dealt with someone calling you 'ugly'? probably not lmao but i just remember being in middle school where many people called me ugly asf and treated me in inhumanely unfriendly ways, but i'm scrolling through pics from back then and i was literally a baby and she was cute. not narcism lmao... i saw some vile anons here too, so i'm just so confused because i've never thought of anyone as ugly yet others around me are always fussing over something

Oh yes hahaha

I mean I can’t deconstruct the entire concept of beauty and ugliness in this ask and I know you don’t mean that lol but yeah you’re right to look back and realise you were cute and young and innocent. pretty much these things are subjective or related to people trying to use them as a weapon against you, they’re exerting power and control over you and here are two examples from my life that come to mind the most

1. My best friend in secondary school would relentlessly make fun of how I looked especially my “pointy nose”. To the extent I just accepted it was really pointy and that I was ugly. It wasn’t devastating to me but I didn’t feel pretty. I would not complain or anything, I’d just accept that was her idea of humour and shrug it off knowing she was trying to provoke me but I thought there was an element of truth to it. She said it so much as well, it went on for years. She used to compare me to every other female friend she made, telling me how much prettier these other girls were than me. She even said the Chinese exchange student staying with her had admitted she thought I was ugly. Because I was never one to pursue beauty or attractiveness or try and fit in I assumed all of this was true. but my friend was so obsessed with beauty, but she just wasn’t very good at it. she would actively make fun of the pretty popular girls at school for liking make up etc but then clearly would have given her right arm to be accepted by them. the thing is I was naturally taller, thinner and probably prettier than her and it took me years to realise any of those things. It’s a dangerous thing in some ways because it’s wrong to then turn around and use those things as a weapon back (I never ever once made fun of her appearance) but I have to admit I hated her for how she treated me (did lots of other even worse things I won’t go into) and so when I read her personal blog about how desperate she was to get skinny and how jealous she was of me I felt genuine gratification, and I was glad that I never struggled to be thin and I’d always look the way she wished she did. That girl truly brought out the most evil and ugly side of me. But I still never used it as a weapon against her, because in the end I saw that it destroyed her and that was enough for me to feel like I had my vengeance. I’m not proud of that but it’s the truth.

2. The other time isn’t about being called names, but I was picked out and bullied at my second workplace which was a pub and restaurant. I was one of the youngest girls there at about 17 and the older male coworkers would say very derogatory sexually inappropriate stuff to me and I always felt it was because I looked and dressed and behaved a bit differently to other girls. It was never like “oh I’d fuck you” no no no - it was obscene questions designed to make me seem repulsive and sexually weird and I think the idea I could even be sexual was the joke to them, because I was so repulsive.

I was skinny flat chested androgynous and didn’t wear much make up and was a bit awkward. In small towns people pick up on these differences and it freaks them out. So there were a few things that were done to me: called a nymphomaniac and made sexual jokes about at staff drinks, I hadn’t said anything I was just sat there and I didn’t even know what that word meant. I didn’t have friends at the time as I was just getting over being abused by my first boyfriend and having my friends take his side (shout out to the aforementioned best friend) so I made the effort to go to my work after they had finished a shift and invited me out. They had a pint they said they had poured and saved for me before they closed the bar and handed it to me. In that moment I genuinely thought wow, this is what it feels like to be a part of a group (my home and family situation was abusive and very isolating) I was shy and thought it so sweet, I’ve never felt close to people and cared for in a social situation like this, but I took a sip and it was pretty vile and they all started laughing. One of the girls rolled her eyes and said “it’s not a pint it’s all the dregs from the beer mats” meaning they hadn’t poured me a drink, but had collected all the beer waste, all the peoples spit, all the customers sweat, all the snot and whatever else gets caught in beer mats and served it to me to drink. So as I was standing there with this essentially poison drink in my hand, had just been told what it was I had just swallowed, and in a split second I have to decide how to react because I can see I’m being tested and played with, so I take another mouthful and everyone screams with laughter, and I spit it directly into the face of the guy who was the ringleader. I still stupidly go out into town with them because I’m trying to shrug things off and I’m used to people who say they love me physically and emotionally hurting me, the night is okay and they’re not like trying to kill me or anything but if this was a horror film they would offer me up as bait to whatever monster chases us no doubt, anyway the ringleader at one point once again is making me the butt of the joke and he pushes my head “playfully” but he’s so much bigger than me it’s not playful, and I’m now quite drunk and so my head swings so far I stumble and hit the side of my head into a brick wall, the thing is his hand is still holding my head there. He’s a bit drunk too but he just shoved my head so hard the pain was immense. Like my skull properly cracked against this wall. It bled a little bit but was mostly fine, just really sore. The next few days there would be a bump and probably a bruise that was hidden under my hair. But after my head is smacked into a wall the next thing I know everyone is gone, they’re jumping in a taxi and laughing and I’m on my own in the middle of town, drunk, no one else is around and it’s a dangerous area because it’s not like London where there’s always a tube station or people to make you feel watched or safe. The town I spent my teenage years in had a huge problem with heroin use and rape. Only a few months ago a girl had been raped in the gardens I was next to and I felt scared and alone and humiliated. Thank god I had cash to call a taxi to get home because the walk back to my mums house would have been hours. I didn’t have anyone to confide that story in at the time, it was just part of a lot of casual cruelty.

So, I honestly don’t know why or how people do these things.

But it’s not a reflection of you or me, although I felt like it was something wrong with me for many years. And sure, it was because I didn’t fit in enough on the surface level, but I felt like I was truly unlikeable and wrong and despicable. Now I know it wasn’t that, because being a bit odd or strange doesn’t warrant any of those behaviours. People are a mystery to me! I can only imagine the same stuff was done to them their whole lives and they haven’t had the imagination, intelligence or the opportunity to be better. I tried so hard to not be a victim, to not let any of it get to me, and to continue to be around and spar back to the banter but it is exhausting. Now I’m older I have thought about what I was going through at 17 and I cry for that girl. I’m so angry for her too. You learn gradually how to deny these people access to you. It’s hard work and it takes years and you don’t get out unscathed, but it can be done. I don’t think these people are worth worrying about, survive them and then cut them out. I moved cities. I had one good friend from school and even though she hurt me plenty we are still good friends but I met other people because of her who also hurt me but also hopefully loved me a bit too. And I met more people through them and met my boyfriend through them who’s the kindest man in the world. I think you need to sample and experience a lot to know what you want and what you don’t want, if anything positive can be said about these experiences. Much love!!! Sorry this is long lol

[0613magazine]

221010 Proof Collector's Edition

Jimin

Between the past, present, and future, which one do you think of as most important?

In the past, I thought the future was more important because I knew exactly what I was dreaming about. More than thinking about what kind of situation I was in right now, I thought more about what I should do to look even better in the future. But now I think ‘present’ is more important. I don’t think that the past of me is that important either.

The word “past” what does it mean to you?

I think it’s something that can hold/support my present self. 

What is your first-ever memory?

This is a memory that grazed my mind one day. I think I was around two years old, I slightly remembered my father putting me on top of a green table and taking a picture. So I asked my mother if it was right, and my mother showed me the picture and asked me how I was remembering it. I think that would be my first-ever memory.

Another strong memory is, I moved when I was five and at that time I was holding a rice cooker. My job was to hold the rice cooker. At that time I was very excited but it was later on when I found out that we had to move because our family situation wasn’t good. My younger self was just excited holding the rice cooker by himself.

Is there something you miss from life when you were young?

When we shot the music video for ‘Permission to Dance’, we shot it with little kids. During that time, I just said ‘I’m tired’ and the little kids hugged me. At that moment, I thought that I would have had times when I was like this too. I miss the untainted pure innocence, beauty, and such. 

What is your first meaningful place/space?

Practice room. There was a practice room that I used to dance in when I was in middle school. Coming up to high school, I had the dance room, during when I was a trainee, I had the practice room that many of our fans know. Because the practice room is the place I first started my dream, the practice room, the start of it, pops into my head first. 

When was the “Moment of Proof”?

When I got confirmed as a member of this team. I think that was luck. So proving that I have the qualification as a member of this team is an important task of proof. 

If I can prove it, I think that moment would be the ‘Moment of Proof’ but I still need to go through it so I am not sure when that moment will come.

Not to the world but is there something you want to prove to yourself?

I ask myself a lot, ‘Could I be more cool/awesome?’ For me, that is a very important part. Can I be better, do better, become more cool. I want to be confident in myself with the answers to those questions. 

In your mind, how old do you put yourself as?

I think I’ve been remaining as a 19-year-old. I wasn’t able to attend my high school graduation nor was I able to experience college life properly. So I think I feel like I’m just remaining at that age. It still hasn’t sunk in yet that I have become an adult. 

While living as BTS, do you think there was a change that made Park Jimin, as an individual, more clear or blurred?

I think it’s been blurred out for quite a long time but I think recently it has been becoming more clear. If I were to blatantly say it, I think even parts that I have trouble understanding myself are becoming more clear. 

Looking back, what was the darkest moment for you?

There were too many moments that it was hard to choose just one. There is a saying that goes ‘The answer is within you’ and I believe in that. Looking back, in the end, I think I overcame those literal dark moments. Only you yourself know why you are having a hard time and the problem is, it’s hard to recognize the issue. No matter who you ask around you, they won’t be able to give you an answer because the answer is within you. Of course, until I was able to find the answer that was within me, people around me were with me by my side. I was able to find the way to the answer in me by talking with others. 

If you were to write a letter to yourself in the past, what would you want to write?

“Work harder. You are not working hard. Just know that.” People tell me that I am a hard working person but I am not too sure. Personally I have many points that are a little disappointing. So I think that ‘I am still just not enough’

During the day, what time do you think it’s your time for yourself?

I think it is early morning time. I sleep really late. These days I sleep at 9 in the morning. It’s not that I can’t sleep. When I do fall asleep, I usually sleep for a long time but I have schedules and such that I end up sleeping late. The reason why I like the morning hours is because of their calm silence. I like spending time on my own in silence when everyone is sleeping, so I feel like that time is a time of my own.

How similar is your usual self in your daily life compared to the BTS member (you are) shown to the world?

I would say I’m about 85% similar. I don’t think that it’s bad at all that there are differences. It’s not wrong either. In fact, I think that it’s the right thing to be like that and also feel that it’s better. But I’m also not very good at showing the different side of me too. More than saying the remaining 15% is ‘different’ I would say ‘I haven’t shown it yet’ is more correct. But that 15%, I also think it’s a side that I am not able to show.

What is “you yourself as it is” like?

Just ordinary. It’s really just ordinary. 

Is the current ‘Me’ and the past ‘Me’ different?

My personality changed. I was introverted but I changed to a little extroverted. My MBTI also happened to change from ENFJ to ESTJ. I think I naturally just changed as the job we have involves being active. If I hear others talk too, it seems like there are a lot of people whose personalities changed as they worked. I think I’m the same.

What are things that changed and things that haven’t changed as time went by?

I think everything besides the feeling that I have for this job changed. Whether it’s the situation or what. About changes, I honestly feel half positive and half negative. It has always been half and half and it is still the same. 

Do you have a belief that you uphold firmly?

“Express your feelings” I think I do anything that can express my feelings. I think I have been keeping that well. 

Who would be the person that would be able to talk about you well the most?

Members. Members are people who know about things that I can’t even talk to my family about.

What do you like to be called the most?

I like it the most when I am called by my name. I never particularly like, liked my name, but I think they have given me a good name that people can easily remember. 

If there is something in life that is an indispensable existence, what would it be?

Cell phone. Going through the pandemic, I realized once more how important cell phones are. It was the only medium to communicate with other people. If it wasn’t for cell phones it would have been hard to talk to people. It was the only thing that became my friend during the hard times of the pandemic. 

Is there something you have been constantly telling yourself recently?

I legit say “what should I eat” a lot. I believe that that question belongs to one of the 3 conundrums of the world. In the past, I didn’t ask these kinds of questions. It was questions like “Am I ok these days?”  These days I don’t really get interested in other people that much. I focus on what I should eat. I think it might be because I can afford more room for myself. 

How fast in km do you think you are going right now?

A light, not tiring running speed for an average adult male? About 17km I’d say? I think I am running where I am not being dragged or pushed. Running while I slowly adjust my own speed. 

Out of the dreams you had recently, are there any that are memorable?

In the dream, I was with my friends in my room. Time was before the sun went down, there was sunset. The orange light came into my room, some of my friends were lying down, others were sitting down having a conversation. Was comfortably having a conversation. In my dream, I didn’t think it was a dream. It was that comfortable which made it a very interesting dream. It ended without much going on. It was just a normal daily life dream that had nothing special, but in fact, that is why I liked it more.

Is there a dream that you do not want to wake up from?

Dream about flying in the sky. I fly very often in my dream. I feel really happy.  I wish all people could see this dream together. It feels very free. Also when I dream about flying I’m inside a beautiful scenery. A scenery that you cannot see in real life, something that just doesn’t make sense. Feel kind of like I have become Iron Man?

Are there any characters from a movie or a drama that you would like to resemble?

Iron Man. The person, how should I put it, he’s very tough. He’s also cool and awesome. There is no way that even if my personality changes I would have a personality like that. No matter how extroverted I become, there still will be some introverted side of me that is left. I would like to try being a person like that once because I won’t be able to become someone like that. I envy people like Iron Man.

If you could leave to go somewhere right now, where would it be?

Any place where I could see the ocean. It could be Jeju Island or even abroad. It would be nice if for a few days I can just sit at a place where I can see the ocean.

If you were to look at life as one road, how far do you think you came now?

I think I am in a place that I don’t know at all. It’s not that I lost my way. I don’t have a forked road in my path. Though I have a few obstacles…

If there is a door at the end of this road that you are passing, what do you think is behind the door?

I never thought that there would be something at the end of the road. But if there is, I hope people who I like are there. 

Do you think you are currently standing at a crossroads of change?

Yes, so it’s interesting. I wasn’t really particularly interested in things like MBTI. But doing it made me realize that my personality did change a lot. There are many times when I answer the same questions differently. So I think to myself ‘I am getting older.’, ‘I am becoming more of a realistic person.’

Do you believe there is a predestined fate?

I am the type that believes choices are made by myself. So I don’t really like things like destiny. If there is fate I think I would think “Then why am I doing all this.” 

If you were to make a documentary about yourself, which song do you want to put on the ending credit?

Bruno Major’s ‘Nothing’. I think the mood of the song goes well with me very well.

Which color do you think best describes you?

Sky Blue. When I was young, my mother used to tell me while she was putting clothes on me that I matched sky blue well. So it’s a color I like. Sky blue is also a color that feels peaceful. 

If you were to put yourself as a scent, which scent would it be?

I would like a light scent. Rather than an artificial scent, I think a simple and light scent would suit me well.

Personally, what is the most meaningful album out of the whole BTS discography? 

I would say <The Most Beautiful Moment in Life> Series. That was the time when members all had the most thoughts. Personally, moving on to my twenties, I started feeling insecurities for unknown reasons, and it’s an album that went with me from the start of those feelings to a point where I was able to organize my thoughts. I cried the most and I laughed the most.

Through the <Proof> album, what message do you want to deliver?

For the last few years, I believe that there were many messages that we screamed out and that our fans screamed out. But there were almost no moments where we were able to talk. So through this album, I hope we can have more deep conversations. Rather than us delivering a story one-sided. I hope we share stories together. 

FILTER

What does this song mean to you?

I believe it’s a song that best expresses myself. Even if the situation changed and my personality changed, the feeling of wanting to show this side of me to others didn’t change. I put a lot of those feelings into it. 

If you look back in time what type of filter do you think is overlaid on your memories?

Filter of a film camera. Feels like a camcorder filter is also on it. Probably because it’s a memory. 

There is a lyric ‘mix the colors in the palette’. Which color do you think yourself is right now?

Whatever color it is, I feel like it would be watery. Light color. If I put it this way I am worried people might think depressingly but it’s not that. I feel that it used to be a more contrasting color. Now it should get brighter again. I should put on colors. Adding more painting to it! Been thinking that I should put more passion these days. 

Are there filters of your own that you have not been able to show yet?

Yes. There are a lot. If I were to say the filters that I have shown so far as colors, I think there were only red, blue, and yellow. I think I’ve shown about half of it. There is still way more left to show you. 

The moment you are fully immersed on stage, how do you feel?

I feel like I’m in a trance. As if I came to a completely different world? I think it’s because I’ve become fully immersed in it. When that happens, nothing else comes to my mind. Since I was young,  I’ve stood on stage because I liked that feeling. I still do. 

If you had ‘Genie’s Lamp’ and you were about to make three wishes, what kind of wish would you make?

First, please grant me a hundred more wishes. From the second wish, I would ask every small thing. Small things like ‘Give me wings to fly in the sky’. ‘Please let my body be free from toxins.’ ‘Please let me not gain weight.’ ‘Please stop my age at 28.’ ‘Please give me a trial ticket for a supercar.’ For this, you can just give me a free trial ticket.(Laugh) ‘Please give me the power to heal people.’ Because health is the best. ‘Please give me the power to teleport.’ ‘Please allow me to breathe in outer space.’ ‘Please allow me to not feel heat and cold.’ ‘Please allow me to be okay from not sleeping.’ ‘Please let me sing well.’ ‘Please let me become the best dancer in the world.’ 

Friend

What does this song mean to you?

It has a big meaning as it’s my first song that I participated in producing. It is also a song that I really like.

What is a definition of soulmate to you?

There is nothing that can define it but a relationship where there is nothing you want from each other? I think that’s what a soulmate is. A relationship where you are not expecting anything from each other.

If you can just have one day with your friend that you can spend freely, how are you going to spend your time?

Wake up around 4 pm. Then eat. Walk a little outside. Then play games. Then have a drink. I often spend time with my friends like this. I can spend a whole week like that. 

Are there other memories where you felt that V was your soulmate?

There was a time when we performed at Zepp Fukuoka in Japan for a tour.

It was a venue where the capacity was about 1k seats. The hotel we stayed at back then was right next to Fukuoka Dome. I snuck out with V saying “we should go to the dome!” Like that, the two of us went out, bought a bunch of stuff from the convenience store. I think it was really good back then. I feel that because there are memories like that I like to think that he is my soulmate. 

Which are you more familiar with, taking care of others or being taken care of by others?

I am more familiar with taking care of others. I just become like that. And I tend to take care of others in detail. 

Out of all the memories you have as BTS if you were to pick one that feels like a dream, when would that be?

I can’t pick out just one moment. In videos that the company makes or edits, there are ones where they go over BTS’ history. Every moment that would be moments in those types of videos is a dream-like moment. When we debuted, when we first held our concert at Olympic Gymnastic Arena. When we went on a tour, and the trips with members that we had in between, all those moments. 

What does the album <Proof> mean to BTS?

I think it’s an opportunity to look back at the times that passed and look forward to the bigger future of BTS. When the moment comes when fans can look at this album and have a sincere and honest talk with us, I think we will be able to feel a bigger meaning for each other.

English translation by: bomharu1230 Photo credit: mahoneysuga

#2022 #bts #jimin #proof collector's edition

[themoonhater]

“Tell your baby that I’m your baby”

Mom never loved me, never gave me the motherly love mothers give to their children, in her case “her child”. She only had me or at least that’s what I thought. Before I was born there were five girls, none were hers but they did have a blood connection since they were her nieces. “Mom” always told me stories of their childhood, not mine ever, my childhood was filled with sorrow and woes, and she doesn’t want to remember any of those because in her story I’m the villain who took away her happiness. She loved them dearly, even now that they’re all older and have gotten on with their lives and don’t care about her, she looks at them lovingly like how one looks at the field of strawberries they have grown, but she hardly looked at me. “Mom” is forever proud of them, even though they never went to college, never learned another language, never learned how to play the piano but I did, I did for her, All I wanted was to see the bright and shiny smile she flashes whenever she sees her “Girls”. I still look at her, waiting like a good dog, and wag my tail for her to notice me, I put my paw in her hand if she asks for it and return with a dismembered one. That’s how “Mom”’s love was towards me, I gave her my bane of existence but left like a soldier from the Trojan War.

Now that I’m older, now that I see her love is different from other mothers and the love she gives others I ask myself “What did you do? What did you do to make you so unlovable that not even your mother loves you” but I swear, I swear on her life because there’s nothing more important than hers in mine I didn’t do anything wrong, what could a child possibly do to make her mother hate her. I even went running back to her after she sent me to school in first grade with bloody lips and a bruised face because that’s my mother, right? She loves me. But who beats down their innocent child like it’s just limp meat all because they didn’t like their kid’s handwriting? I remember being young and full of life - unlike now - watching all the girls playing with their mothers but all I got was getting yelled out for demanding attention.

Sometimes I think that “Mom” was out of love, I mean let’s be real here, she had five girls to love dearly of course at some point in her life she would run out of love to give but oh, how wrong I was because girls came and go, new nieces and such but no, that was not the end of it, she went out of her way to give her love to my friends, newest additions to her “Girls”.

Years have passed and I’m still not her baby. “Mom” still takes away the food from my plate and gives it to her “Girls” while I watch, starving but will do anything to make her smile. “Mom” still belittles me and hugs her “Girls” because they deserve love and I don’t. “Mom” still calls me names for being disobedient but praises her “Girls”. “Mom” never loved me and never will.

A little side note: It’s my first time writing something like this in English, I used to be a great writer back in middle school and high school, won a few local awards but ever since I started college I have been a stranger with my pen. Hopefully my writing is not that awful because it has been one of passions for years now and I’m so happy to picking it up again. I wish to improve it but for now this is all I can offer.

Also my deep apologies if you relate to this. This was inspired by “I bet on losing dogs” by Mitski. There’s this trend going on, on tik tok that made me want to share my story but I promise that I have more fun and happy stories to tell so please stay tuned lol. (btw im new to tumblr dunno if u can tell)

#mitski #i bet on losing dogs #mommy issues #my writing #writing #Spotify

[kookurukoo]

To my future partner, I don't think this is the first time I'm writing a letter for you— this one comes from my heart and my wishes. I haven't met you yet and I don't want to meet you now that I'm still achieving my dreams. I'm still finding out how to cross on the street and how to travel alone. I hope you are good at communicating because I am not, I can't order food at Jollibee. I want you to know that I'm a little innocent; I haven't been to Starbucks nor tasted a drink from there it's because I prefer to stay home rather than go out with my friends. I have pale skin, actually you could almost see my veins through my skin. I want you to understand that I like watching sunsets, I hope you don't get mad when I stop walking to take a photo of it. I laugh at the end of the sentence sometimes, i hope you let me do it. I wish you let me cry whenever I'm sad, and comfort me when I need it. I hope you don't get annoyed because of the way I talk when I'm explaining. let your hands to be gentle with me, don't let them hurt me, I'm not a punching that you shower with punches. Don't leave me with bruises and scars, then you don't apologize and admit your mistakes.

Tell me when you're hurt and If I hurt you, I will apologize. Tell me what's bothering you, I'm willing to help you. I can be your crying shoulder. If you ever come home late, inform me because I'm an overthink-er, I might pass out thinking your laying in a hospital bed or in someone else's bed.

My love languages are word of affirmation, quality time and physical touch.

Please be advised that I'm not the kind of girl who you'll find beautiful at just first glance, it'll take you minutes to realize I'm pretty. I like books— romantic novels to be exact. I loved fictional men before you even came into my life, they were the first men I claimed as "my husband." I have BTS in my life, they are a big part of my life and they occupy the big part of my heart. I was in middle of chaos when I found them, I used to cry everyday but their contents pulled me out of that chaos. They took away the brokenness I had from my own family.

I'd love to call you 'Love' or 'Baby' because they sound sweet for me. I promise to invest time knowing you; Do you like sports? Do you watch movie? What's your favorite? Why is it your favorite? Why did your mom choose that name for you... I love to see your childhood photos, I want to know how you were as a kid. What was your dream when you were a little boy? Did you dream of being a a doctor because I did.

If you're ever in a relationship right now, enjoy it. Just don't hurt that person.

If you have a cheating history, I don't think I'll find it easy to trust you. I don't trust cheaters.

I hope you're a college graduate, financially, mentally and emotionally stable, and physically okay when we meet. I didn't get to experience to be a daughter of a happy and complete family. I was so young when my parents' marriage teared up, I barely remember the moments that we're complete. The highlight of my memory as a young girl is how my father hurt my mother and the reason of all those was money and other women. That's why if I'll be given a chance, I'd like to be a mother to a son and a daughter of happy and complete family where the mom stays with the dad. I don't want us to meet in the court, fighting for their custody.

I just wish you're not from the place that I grew up in or from my school, that's not fun.

Let's be each other's home.

Truly yours, Elle.

[a3veen]

How should we talk to children about war?

27/10/2023

Friday briefing:

Explaining conflict to young people is hard – but can help with their resilience

With the cost of living crisis, political chaos, and two full-blown wars, the news cycle is possibly the bleakest it’s ever been. Waking up to more bad news every day is hard. It’s hard for you to read, and it’s hard for us to report on. But it’s hardest of all for the children – in Gaza, Israel and Ukraine, of course, but also those hearing about it from a distance and perhaps encountering the horrors of war for the first time.

In less than three weeks, it is thought that more than 2,360 children have been killed in Gaza, while more than 30 children were killed by Hamas during the attack in Israel and dozens have been taken hostage. Unicef described the “simply staggering” child death toll as “a growing stain on our collective conscience” as it called for an immediate ceasefire to stem the loss of young lives.

For today’s newsletter, I asked educational and child psychologist Prof Vivian Hill to talk about the impact that war has on still forming minds, and for her tips on how we should talk about the horrors of conflict with children. But first, the headlines.

In depth: ‘Children have a remarkable capacity to cope’

Almost half (47.3%) of the people living in Gaza are under 18, making it one of the youngest populations in the world. With so many children living in a war zone, it is perhaps not so surprising that many have been killed, but the numbers are still shocking. As well as the dead, 5,364 kids have been reported injured in the attacks – which Unicef works out as more than 400 children killed or injured every day since the conflict began on 7 October.

“The killing and maiming of children, abduction of children, attacks on hospitals and schools, and the denial of humanitarian access constitute grave violations of children’s rights,” Adele Khodr, Unicef’s regional director for the Middle East and North Africa, said. “Unicef urgently appeals on all parties to agree to a ceasefire, allow humanitarian access and release all hostages. Even wars have rules. Civilians must be protected – children particularly – and all efforts must be made to spare them in all circumstances.”

Should you try to shield your children from the horror of war?

“It’s impossible to stop children from learning about the war,” Hill says. “They’re going to hear about it in the playground at school, or from their phones. Creating the right environment for them to ask questions they may have about the conflict is the most important thing.” That’s even more true for certain communities: some Jewish schools felt forced to shut their doors or tell children not to wear their uniforms in public, while Muslim children arriving at mosques for prayers have been met by police guarding the doors due to the “heightened risk” caused by the Israel-Gaza conflict.

Hill says many parents worry that learning about war is “denying children their innocence”, but she says there is never a good time for kids to learn that not everyone in the world is nice to each other. “It may well be earlier than you would have liked to broach the topic of war with your children, but take this as an opportunity to provide them with the right tools to deal with it – to build up resilience.”

As a parent or carer, Hill says, you are uniquely placed to know how much information your children require and how to talk to them depends on their age and development. The most important thing, she says, is to listen to the child and let them guide you in helping them.

“Some children will need reassurance that they are safe, while older children may need support to understand the complexities of the situation,” she says. “By taking the time to listen, and to help them process their own thoughts and emotions about the conflict, parents can provide comfort and help children cope with their difficult feelings.”

Ask your children how they feel

Hill, who has worked as a child psychologist for more than 20 years and now trains other people in child and educational psychology, says it is very important to put your own emotions to one side and let the child talk freely. “The news of war is distressing for all of us,” she says. “But it is important to be careful not to put your thoughts and worries into their heads.”

Be careful about managing your distress. “If they see you’re anxious, worried or crying, they will take that onboard and worry as well.”

She suggests using open questions to explore their feelings. “Ask your children what they have heard and seen and how they are feeling, this allows them to introduce their personal perspectives and understandings first, so you can focus on their needs rather than your assumptions about how they might be feeling.”

Acknowledge the horror of war

As they grow up children inevitably develop their understanding of social injustice, inequalities and the horror of war. “This can make them feel upset, angry, frightened or unsafe, helping children learn how to process difficult information, feelings and emotions is a key role for parents and carers,” says Hill, who is a member of the British Psychological Society’s division of educational and child psychology.

She says it is important to regulate what news children are consuming, and points out that the news at 6pm uses less graphic images than the news at 10, for example. The BBC’s Newsround is the best child-friendly source of information, in her view.

“After seeing anything affecting, talk to your child about it, acknowledge the horror of it, but also don’t dwell on it.” She suggests doing something together with your child after seeing anything distressing. “Go out of for a walk, take the dog out, do something different.”

What to tell your children depends on how old they are

For younger children, only give them minimal details and in a manner they can understand. She suggests for anxious children that may worry what they’re seeing on the news could happen to them, “It might be helpful to look at a map together and see that it is happening a long way away, and not impacting people here.”

She says distance shouldn’t be used to minimise the importance of a conflict itself, but can have a big impact if children are concerned they could be at risk.

Hill says you might feel your children are too young to learn about war, but “they have a remarkable capacity to cope with feelings” and “[talking to them about conflict] may help to build their resilience for the future”.

“For adolescents they may have a more nuanced understanding of what’s happening,” says Hill, who is programme director of the UCL Institute of Education doctorate in child, adolescent and educational psychology. “In that case it can be helpful to do a little research together looking at the history of the conflict, and understand that both sides believe they have genuine cases.

“The most important thing is shifting the conversation towards the understanding of peace. Talking about the importance of ending wars, on keeping people safe, and promoting peaceful solutions, that will help your children feel reassured.”

Vivan, who has spent much of the past three weeks visiting schools to help teachers learn how to help their pupils deal with the impact of war, says she has been heartened by what she has heard unprompted in the playground.

“I heard somebody saying something unpleasant about a child whose family was linked to one side of the conflict,” she said. “Another child interrupted to say ‘It’s nothing to do with that person or their family, and they don’t get to choose what is happening, but what needs to happen is peace now’.

“It was a remarkably mature and well-researched position for a child of 14,” Hill says. “And it shows that young people can be a tremendous force for good. If we can all learn from that child and push that message that peace is the only way to solve this.”

Jamie Wilson

Head of International News, The Guardian