#okay lets get back to work. ive got my emotional supports

[wosowrites]

Starting a New Streak (Leah Williamson x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️swearing⚠️

a/n: I don’t think ive ever written a fic so fast and so emotional. i decided to write this now because the issue of the hate Leah is getting is really making me emotional so I want to get this fic out while im all high up on my emotions and love for Leah. Based off this request here

prompt: in which the reader and Leah have been best friends since they were 15 and are both secretly hiding feelings for each other that get revealed after the australia v england game.

11 years of knowing Leah. 11. Nine of those years you were withholding your feelings for the blonde. You had tried dating other people, other footballers, just others. But no one was Leah. No one was her.

You were all riding high on the Finalissima win going into the Australian friendly, you felt light and happy. 30 game winning streak. Let’s go England.

But everyone makes mistakes… right? You had made a fair few yourself, and you were especially good at beating yourself up about them. An own goal in the first Euros game had you crying in the changing room, even though it all worked out. A complete giveaway during an Arsenal v Chelsea game that lead to Manu having to make a bad tackle and get a red. The gunners lost that game 3-2. You felt as though it was your fault… and it was… but your teammates were by your side. And Leah didn’t leave you along for a minute, didn’t leave you a second to think that you were anything else than… well… human.

The lineup was interesting, Esme starting in defence with you, Jess and Leah instead of Leah, Lucy and you. You felt weird about that, but wanted to be happy for the young defender.

From kickoff, the lionesses were dominating. You had gotten a few shots off and were making good plays, so the fact that nothing was coming out of them angered you to no end. That was the first problem. The team wasn’t connecting. And then, as she always does, Sam Kerr happened.

A good ball was made from the australian defence. And then, it was Sam versus Leah.

Leah got to it first, but it just wasn’t enough. She tried her best to get her head on the ball to secure it into Mary’s hands, and she did. But it was missing that extra power.

The australian striker was fast, and incredibly talented. Kerr just needed a little chip over Mary, and she delivered.

Leah threw her head back in annoyance as Mary watched the ball go in the net from her knees. Nothing to be done.

You jogged up to her, putting your hands on Leah’s shoulder. "Look at me, Lee. It’s okay. It happens I should have been there to support you more. Team mistake," you said to her.

She nodded absentmindedly and apologized to Mary who clapped her on the back and told her to keep going.

Bur it wasn’t a team mistake. It was a Leah mistake. But Leah was part of the team, she was your skipper, your best friend, your teammate, your world. And so it was a team mistake.

You kept going. As a defender, you shockingly got a few opportunities on net, but you weren’t able to conceive a goal. "FUCK!" you yelled, throwing your head back in anger and sighing loudly as the ball you had just shot grazed the outside of the post. "It’s all good! We got this!" Georgia said, tapping you on the back and letting you jog back to your defensive role.

The first half ended 1-0.

You all walked back into the changing room, Sarina telling you to think of the game as goalless to take the pressure off. "Let’s capitalize on our opportunities girls!" Sarina said, clapping her hands and sending all of you off.

You slung your arm around Leah, holding her a little to close for friends. "Brush it off, love. Brush it off," you told her, kissing her cheek gently before parting with her as you got into the view of the cameras.

Time was a blur, it was like it was non existent. It passed, but you didn’t notice. All you could think was that opportunity after opportunity was being missed, and wasted, and you wanted to yell at yourself more than anything.

And then the 66th minute came.

You didn’t even notice who shot the ball. All you noticed was the deflection off of Leah’s arm, and that Mary went right as the ball went left. You heard the scream of joy, the kind of scream that only happened when a player scored their first goal for their country. You knew it well. You had let out that scream three times. Once for U-15, another for U-17, and the loudest one of all, for the senior team.

Leah looked like she was on the verge of tears and then and there you wished for nothing more than to wrap her in bubble wrap and protect her from the world. You were scared of what people would say.

You were scared of the bad fans. And you knew Leah was too.

The final whistle marked the end of an era. 30 games unbeaten. Gone.

Ouch.

"Leah!" you said, rushing up to her and trying to hug her as she walked into the tunnel. "Get away from me! I don’t need you telling me it’s not my fault, okay?! I don’t want you right now. Just let me be," she yelled.

You froze. Everyone heard. Lucy looked shocked. Keira looked uncomfortable. Sam looked hurt for you. And everyone else looked like they just wanted to run.

"Okay."

"Leah! I don’t want to do this but they want you for media," Sarina said. Leah looked broken at those words. "Tell them she’s not available. I’ll go," you said. "Wait- y/n. I’m-" Leah tried to apologize, her heart breaking as she processed the words she had said to you. "Don’t. Go," and with that, you walked away.

You shook hands with the interviewer and camera man. "Leah’s not available. I’ll be here instead. Can we do this quickly please?" you asked, not caring that you were already on live TV.

The crew nodded.

"How do you feel after this loss? Ending a streak, ending an era. What’s it like?" the woman asked. "I’m scared. Genuinely that’s the only feeling I can stomach right now. Obviously I’m aware that the disappointment and anger will settle in later but right now I’m just scared. Obviously mistakes were made. Yes, by Leah. The most obvious ones were but not only from her. From all of us. Um…" you sniffled, pinching your nose and biting your cheek. "Yeah. When you get to the level where everyone is watching you it’s great but it’s also scary. Loosing is scary because of what people say. I want to just… wrap Leah in bubble wrap because I’m so scared of what people will say about her online. She’s amazing and i’ve known her for forever. She’s led us to four trophies and a wonderful streak. But everything comes to an end. But i’m making it clear here and now that Leah’s talent is not ended. Our confidence hasn’t faltered," you admitted.

Never had you been so raw on love TV. There was no editing on live TV, no tweaking, no clipping, no editing. Just your words for everyone to hear.

"Is this a setback for the World Cup?" she asked.

"No. Not at all. I think this may be a blessing in disguise. Going into the world cup beaten humbles us. We understand that we are beatable. Tonight was easily my hardest night in an England shirt and I felt as though I wanted to scream the whole game but a setback? The Lionesses don’t have setbacks," you told her, and the world as a matter of fact. "One last thing. If you could say anything to the fans, what would it be?"

You took a second to think. "Thank you for standing with us through all our wins, all our trophies. The cups and awards and championships in our trophy cabinet are just as much yours as they are ours. I hope, that if you are a real fan, that you will stick by us through this loss. I hope you stand by us because we love you all very much. Also, any hate comments on my posts, and you’re blocked."

You took off your headphones, smiled gently at the interviewer and walked away.

The walk back to the changing room was silent other than the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. Had you said too much? Had your feelings for Leah taken over your words? Maybe. Probably.

You pushed open the door of the changing room and walked inside, finding the whole team sitting in silence, still in their kits.

They all looked up as you walked in, some of the younger girls who had played were red eye’d.

Their looks on you sent your heart into overdrive. You took a gasping, shaky breath as your throat closed and leaned your head against the wall, palms pressed to the cool tile as though if you pushed on the wall hard enough, it would take back the words you had said on live TV. "If you write hate comments i’ll block you? What the fuck was that." you thought.

Lucy and Mary were by your side quickly, concerned by your shaky sobs. "Shh. It’s okay. What is it?" Lucy said, gently grabbing you and letting your head rest on her shoulder as Mary rubbed your back. "The interview… I said too much. And Leah’s mad at me. And we- Im scared of what people will say about her. I’m in love with her," you said.

The last part was nothing but a whisper for only Mary and Lucy to hear. The two seniors looked into each others eyes, a silent demonstration of shock. "Where is Leah?" you asked, pulling away from Lucy and wiping your face with your sweaty, muddy, and grass covered jersey. "Washroom. Hasn’t come out in ten," Mary said.

You nodded and then walked deeper into the changing room towards the door connecting the guest locker room to the washroom.

You pushed open the door gently, seeing Leah sitting on the floor, her head in her hands, her body shaking with sobs.

"Leah…" you cried gently, tears steaming down your own cheeks again. She looked up quickly, her face more broke than you had ever seen it before. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t. I’m sorry," Leah cried, her voice trembling and getting caught in her throat. "It’s okay. It’s okay," you said, quickly heading over to her.

You let your body slip down the wall. You put your arms around Leah and she did the same to you. For the time your bodies pressed together, you didn’t care how the other stentched of sweat, and mud… and fear and pain and disappointment. You only cared about each other.

"Leah this couldn’t be worse timing but-"

"I’m in love with you," Leah said, cutting you off. Your eyes widened as you pulled away from her. "You cut me off," you said, not realizing you were in a little bit of shock. "What?" she said, sniffling. "You interrupted me! I was going to say. Leah. This couldn’t be worse timing but I am in love with you," you said.

It sunk in how stupid your words had been, considering Leah had just said the same thing. "Really?" she said. "Yes. And don’t watch the interview they made me do because it’s embarrassing and sad," you told her.

She let out a small laugh and leaned her forehead against yours. "30 games unbeaten streak broken," she said. Somehow, her breath smelled sweet. "Well we have another streak. 11 years of friendship. That’s a good streak. And I say we start another one," you told her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah? One minute of you being my girlfriend and… counting."

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #leah williamson #arsenal fcw #mary earps #sam kerr #lucy bronze #engwnt #lionesses #this is woso

[forever-rogue]

oh my god nurse steve is the best thing ive heard. I feel like he’d be the sweetest especially to the kids who come in sick or injured. Okay but what if one day he has a bad day (loses a patient he was close to maybe) and he just crawls into your arm and cries bc he spends all his time taking care of other ppl that he needs someone to take care of him.

AN | I love Nurse Steve and I love that you all love Nurse Steve too🥺🥺 This one gets pretty emotional, so be prepared. This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language, Death Mention

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He’d been working long hours. He always worked long hours, but these had been even longer. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to only see each in passing on the days he was working his long shifts. Often it was only for a hello or goodbye, and a quick kiss. You could see that it was getting heavy and slowly draining him. You tell he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But Steve - Steve with his pure heart of gold - never took anything out on you. He could have been experiencing the absolute worst day, ready to explode, but he’d never do so much as snap at you or raise his voice. You wished there was something you could do for him. All you could do was try your best to support him. You tried to do it through things like making sure his lunch, or dinner, or breakfast was always prepared, that he always had fresh coffee, that his scrubs were clean. It still never felt enough, but you were trying. For him you would always try.

You weren’t sure how much longer he could continue on at this pace before it all became too much. 

Unfortunately it all came to a head one late evening. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late into the evening but you were still in bed, reading through a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice that you must’ve read a hundred times by now. You were vaguely aware of the front door opening, thinking nothing of it for a moment until you realized what you’d heard. Panic welled up as you jumped out of bed and tip-toed out into the hall to see what was going on. To your surprise, there was Steve, leaning against the door, a weary expression on his handsome face. 

“Stevie?” you asked softly, wasting no time in going over to him to see what was wrong. He looked up at you, dark circles on his red-rimmed eyes with a devastated expression on his face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. You pulled him into your arms and held onto him tightly, wrapping him up in your arms and love. He clung onto you as tightly as possible, burrowing his face into your neck as he took a shaky breath in, “oh baby.”

You didn’t move, instead just holding him, rubbing his back in soothing patterns, softly whispering a few words of praise to him. At some point, he hadn’t been able to keep his emotions suppressed any longer, and he let it all out. He took a shuddering breath before the tears welled up and ran down his face. You felt them soak into your sweater - one that had belonged to him at some point - but none of it mattered. Your only concern was him; everything else was replaceable, but he was not. 

“My love,” you tenderly brushed your hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, “I’ve got you, Steve. Let it all out.”

One of the things you’d learned early in your relationship with your nurse, was that you shouldn’t tell people that it was okay or you’re okay. Because sometimes things weren’t okay, sometimes people weren’t okay. And that was okay - it was okay not to be okay. And right now, you knew your husband was very not okay.

After a little bit, the tears lessened and his breathing evened out. You pulled back for just a moment, touching his ruddy cheek tenderly before brushing away the half-dried tears. He preened into your touch, and sniffled slightly as you looked at him with adoration, “‘m sorry.”

“No sorries,” you insisted softly, “there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for, love. Please don’t ever apologize for how you’re feeling.”

“I…” he inhaled and exhaled slowly before nodding, “I love you. So fucking much.”

“I love you,” you took his face gently in your hands before pressing soft kisses all over his cheeks, “so very much, Steve.”

“I-I don’t know what I’d do if something ever-”

“Shh,” you gently put a finger to his lips, “let’s not focus on that either.” 

“Can you…I don’t….know.”

“You always take care of me so well, my love. You’ve helped through so many colds, a broken ankle, a dislocated elbow, and so many more things. Plus, you show me so much love every single day,” you reminded him and you saw the faintest bit of a smile tug up the corner of his mouth, “let me take of you, baby.”

“Please,” he nodded as every last little bit of his guard went down and he almost fell into your arms. You did your best to hold him, before slowly shuffling towards the bathroom. You flicked on the light and settled him on top of the toilet, before silently moving to run a bath, filling it with the bubbles that he loved but would never admit to. 

After making sure it was the perfect temperature, you turned to your husband and gently tugged at the hem of his top, taking it off once he silently obliged. Holding out your hand, you helped him to his feet before removing the rest of his clothing before he stepped into the bathtub. He settled down into the warm, softly scented water, closing his eyes as he rested against the cool tile. 

“I don’t know if a bath fixes or solves anything, but it always comforts me,” you mused as you sat on the floor next to the tub, leaning against the edge.

“Mammalian Diving Reflex,” he whispered as a small smile settled on his face, “it’s a biological response. Water comforts us from an evolutionary standpoint - from before we evolved to live on land.”

“Interesting,” you thought about what he said and nodded, “makes sense, even if I don’t understand all the nuances. Teaching me something new all the time, my love.”

“It’s helping,” he reached for your hand, which you eagerly offered him, threading your fingers together as he rested them at the edge of the tub, “you’re helping.”

“I’m always here for you,” you promised, “always, forever, whenever.”

“I know,” he nodded, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as he looked at the ceiling, “w-will you come in? With me?”

“Yes,” you agreed, “of course.”

You rose to your feet and slowly stripped off your pajamas, tossing them into the pile with his clothes. You took his proffered hand and slowly got into the water, sitting into between his long legs. You looked at him, looking at him softly and relaxed, “thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” you took his hand and pressed a small kiss to his knuckles, “I love you, Steve, and I want to take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

“I’m so lucky you came into my life,” his hands settled on your waist as he pulled towards him, perching you on top of his thighs. He was craving closeness, wanting to feel your skin on his, the tender intimacy of being together.

“I came into your life because I’m a clumsy fool,” you grinned, “and you happened to be on duty. It was a happy twist of fate…even if it did take what felt like five hundred years for my ankle to get better.”

“We’d have met some other way,” he insisted firmly, affection lacing his tone, “I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah,” you nodded sweetly, “I like to think so too. You’re my soulmate, Steve Harrington. Now, will you let me take care of you? Wash your hair and body?”

“Yes,” his big brown eyes were so soft and tender as he shyly nodded, “I’d really like that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You took your time to take care of Steve. You washed his hair, taking your time to make it more like a relaxing massage than anything else. You followed up with conditioner to keep his pretty head of hair nice and smooth. You scrubbed every inch of his skin with reverence, trying to strip away every last bad thought and moment of the day to create a renewed sense of stillness. 

When you were thoroughly satisfied with how clean he was, his cheeks fresh and pink, and eyes growing more tired, you dried him off and put him into a pair of clean pajama pants and sweater. You followed suit with your own pajamas and crawled into bed, motioning for him to join you. 

You normally took the place of the small spoon, but tonight you pulled him into your arms, cuddling him into your soft, pliant warm body. You kept your breathing steady and even as he rested his head on your chest, hoping it would lull him to rest. You were running a hand through his slightly damp locks, humming softly to soothe him.

Luckily, it felt like he was managing to relax. It was silent for some time, only the faint chirping singing of the nighttime insects and creatures floating into the room, a faint golden glow coming from the bedside table. You were wide awake and you’d remain wide awake all night if you had to in order to make sure he was taken care of and able to rest. 

He broke the silence after some time, tightening his grip on, grounding himself in your essence, “I was sent home tonight.”

You swallowed thickly, mind already reeling with possibilities; he’d never been asked to leave work before. You didn’t push him, didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but in the end he always told you what was going on, “I…I lost a patient today.”

“Oh,” you choked up almost immediately. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how that felt, how he felt. All you knew was that it would never, ever, be anything short of devastating.

“It was a child,” he confessed almost like it was some sort of sin that he needed to atone for you, “a girl, only seven.”

“Steve,” he’d sat up by now and was looking at you with glistening eyes and trembling lips, “oh, my love.”

“She was so young,” he sniffled, “so small. And I…I couldn’t…there was nothing we could do. But I tried so hard, I-I did everything I could and it still wasn’t enough.”

“Steve…” you touched his face, unsure of what to say. You weren’t sure if there was anything you could say to make it better, “I am so sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sorry to her family…I can’t even begin to imagine how you or they feel.”

“I didn’t do enough,” the tears rolled down his cheeks and all you could think to do was to wrap your arms around him and pull him tightly into your body, “it’s not fair. Why her?”

“Steve,” you couldn’t help but cry along with him, wishing you could take some of the emotion and burden off his shoulders and onto yours, “oh Steve. I know you, and I know you did everything you could.”

“But it wasn’t-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Steve,” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head, “I know that me saying that doesn’t help, and doesn’t make it better but it’s true. You do everything with your whole heart, and I know you’d never give up.”

“Her parents…the looks on their faces…I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much pain,” he clutched onto you like you were his lifeline, the only thing keeping him in check, “I’ve never…never had to…fuck.”

“Shhh,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “let it all out. Just let it go, you’re safe here.”

“Normally it’s…easier to compartmentalize and show push the feelings down, but today I couldn’t. It was just too much,” he rested his forehead on your shoulder, “I’ve never felt worse. I-I never want to feel like that again. It just…it hurts so bad. I just….I don’t even know.”

“I wish I could make it all better,” you whispered, “but I can’t. I don’t know if anyone can. I guess it’s going to take time. But, Steve, I am here for you. Always and however you need me, yeah?”

“I know,” he let out a shuddering breath and hugged onto him even tighter, “I love you so much. You really are my angel.”

“Steve,” you rocked him gently, doing your best to calm him down, “I love you more than life itself. There’s no quantifiable way to put it into words…endlessly. You’re going to get through this, and I’ll be right there by your side.”

“Okay,” he pulled back and nodded, his voice raspy and low, “will you…will you just hold me tonight?”

“Of course I will,” you promised, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips which he accepted with a soft sort of hunger, “always, my love. Always.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader

[sunnycanvas]

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

[hallwriteblr]

Writeblr Positivity Tag

i was tagged by @sam-glade (their post here!) way back in May, and i decided to get around to it today :)

Tagging: @annachronisms @vicwriting @everthewip @gay4utica @meerawrites @louisermaeve and whoever else who wants to join in!! (you can even @ me so i can see your post :D)

just as sam glade did, i'll put the blank format under the cut!

...

1. What motivates you to write?

The idea that someone out there will thoroughly enjoy the things in my brain. On my lowest days, I try to think about my future readers. Sometimes, I'll even think about my future critics. I think it'll be an honour for people to take my stories seriously enough to point out what's wrong with them.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

I died when I became immortal, after all. Which can be found here, in my (still-growing, currently absolutely tiny) collection of one-shots!

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

@canadjester's character, Q. I have an altar of him in my closet, actually. I am definitely normal about him. He's dumb and blond, both of which I am apparently into.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Developing characters and fleshing out their relationships with each other.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I'm very, very good at eliciting strong negative emotions, particularly sadness, hopelessness, and panic.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Everyone is so supportive of and interactive with each other!!!!! We all feel like one absolutely ginormous family.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Would say nothing. I'm working on using Obsidian for planning, but for now I'm sticking to Google Docs.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

The history in End With One (Never Zero) has been particularly enjoyable so far.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

If you think what you've written is shitty, leave it for three weeks (or even several months). Once you've come back to it, it'll be much better than you thought, I assure you. On the off-chance that it's just as bad, then in your time away, you'd've gathered enough experience and rest to be able to detect the errors in your writing—and now you can fix it :)

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters.

@canadjester (besttiieeeeeeeeee <33333333333333 im going to kill you) @sleepyowlwrites (never letting go of that song bro omg T^T) @macabremoons (girl your enthusiasm over the sage one shot sent me to the MOON awguhairugieurgeurguerihg) @jgmartin (ABSOLUTELY adore your works :3) and @ashen-crest (fell in love with A Rival Most Vial literally 3 seconds after i got the book LOL). some honourable mentions: @moremysteriesthantragedies @digital-chance and @savvy-minnow for the ABSURD and WONDERFUL number of times ive seen yall pop up in my notifs LMAOOOOOOOOOO

...

1. What motivates you to write?

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

#my posts #writeblr #tag games

[nyxi-pixie]

double byler are so funny (this is actually not funny at all they make me sad) bc both pairs have relationships in which theyre very dependent on each other for emotional comfort so when theyre apart their relationships suffer pretty badly

both jancy and byler have been shown to have a bond based at least partially on shared trauma. w jancy murray even goes as far as to say its like the main reason they shld get together which. hmm. but yk more to my point. and byler constantly have heart to hearts because theyre each others emotional rock and this probably goes back further than UD shit bc wills been TraumaMan for his whole life (and feels mike is the only one who he can be emotionally vulnerable with without being babied or treated like hes weak-s2 kinda suggests mikes been there for him in Will Byers Trauma Times TM before). thanks lonnie😒😒

its v obvious w mike and jonathan actually bc neither of them seem to talk to anyone else about their issues. like will leaves and mike immediately devolves into isolating himself and straight up depression because clearly theres some family issues which prevent him from opening up abt his feelings (he hugs karen like 3 times in the whole show but he Never talks to her abt shit. despite her attempts to get him to open up that one time w her queer coded as fuck lil speech. anyway repressed lil emo mike only ever opens up with will. so no will=no talking abt emotions=unhealthy michael.)

and jonathan turns to weed (and argyle omg theyre bfs so true) because he wont turn to his family for support bc hes unhealthily selfless and doesnt want to burden them with his issues (likely due to the parentification. oh boy someone help him) but he and nancy understand each other bc theyve been through the same shit (which also means they dont feel like they burden each other bc like. u cant burden someone if theyre already sharing the weight yk?) but seperation=losing that support so their relationship, which relies so heavily on that mutual understanding, suffers.

nancy and will are doing a little better individually. because guess what: they have HOBBIES.(jon also does but he seems to have abandoned it. rip his i wanna take a pic era. and mike has d&d but in the between time between oh no wills gone and oh yay eddie my beloved, hes doing shit. and even w d&d his grades are still affected by his mental place and his rooms super messy so like. doing better but still not great.)

we see that wills super into art (which is known to be therapeutic so double woo points) again after doing it less in s3. and he seems to be specifically using it to deal w his sad gay feelings (channelling shit like the introspective king he is 🤩). also hes got people other than mike to offer emotional support. even with jonathan not available, he can still talk to joyce (st character with positive relationship w a parent❗holy shit how rare❗❗). also its will. if hes in his feels hes just gonna vibe with it. 'oh misery my best friend lets hang out for a bit 😍😍' (prolly bc jonathan put his whole jonussy into making sure will was okay w having emotions. as a part of his mission to spite lonnie. SLAY KING) compared to the wheelers who are like 'um what the fuck is an emotion ive never felt one i swear. wdym u saw me crying yesterday🤨?? no u literally didnt that was my evil twin😒.'

anyway that brings me to nancy. who. yk shes doing Okay. the second anyone brings up jon shes about to commit crimes against them so yk not totally good but coping. bc she kinda just full body throws herself at that school newspaper stuff so she has a distraction and its working okay. until her new friend-w-glasses-destined-to-die- horrifically, dies horrifically.

but then she has emotional support through surrounding herself w people who Get It. (woooo robins around and nancy feels comfortable for once!!!!) i mean shes also almost reverting to steve bc nancys trauma response is just 'i can only ever be emotionally vulnerable with romantic partners bc i havent had a friend since s1 and my family dont know shit abt the monster dimension (plus ted is actually just a cardboard cutout with a robotic voice box that blurts out 1 of 10 phrases on a timer). apart from mike. but idk hes busy crying over his bf and we can never open up to each other in a genuine way bc repression is the Wheeler Way To Slay' but yk shes at least partially coping.

but their relationships basically get totally fucked bc oh no if we cant have heart to hearts in physical proximity we are going to Die. also communication without magical telepathy through eye contact??? whos she??? (esp w byler. u cant have effective coded conversations over the phone. and theyve got all their other reasons for not talking: will doesnt wanna reach out first and have mike brush him off bc oh dear the 3x03 fight really fucked with him didnt it. and mikes desperately trying to call but for fuck sake how is their phone always busy. and he wont use letters bc idk hes too gay for that he keeps signing them w 'love mike. ps im in love w u in case u didnt get that😍😍😍')

and jancy. oof. jons like 'i have to appease literally everyone in my life apart from myself and i cant do that bc yay nancy means boo family and yay family means boo nancy so now i think i will have a crisis bc if im honest with her she will Hate me. yes i am so rational' and nancys like 'wtf is going on does he hate me or smthn. i am also totally rational' and they wont talk abt it bc theyre scared of pissing each other off. (and have no example of healthy relationships to follow)

basically. double byler are codependent in a way that isnt Necessarily unhealthy - in fact when around each other, they seem to do better Because of that reliance on each other. it allows them to be emotionally vulnerable in a way that they cant be w anyone else (even will who has like the most supportive family ever <3 still feels most comfortable being open w mike as evidenced by his talk w jon in s2).

BUT. seperation fucks over their relationships and their individual mental health. and thats where the unhealthy aspect comes in. bc over reliance on one person is gonna Fuck Shit Up. (it wouldnt be so bad if they still communicated regularly thru letters and phone calls but yk self hatred is a bitch and theyre all very insecure.)

#talking about codependency again bc when am i not #idk i just think its interesting how similar jancy and byler are #i mean it makes sense obviously. bc sets of siblings will have the same problems. but still #i love analysing these mentally unwell bitches #anyway people dismiss codependency as unhealthy all the time and i dont think thats fair bc like #shout out to my bitches whove had codependent (online) friendships based almost entirely on oh we have the same mental bs dont we #bc like. its not Healthy but that mutual understanding is unparralleled and it does make u feel better #the other half of people romanticise codependency which also not good bc like. it isnt a healthy way to live. as evidenced by s4 #but i just think its neat #jancy #byler #im sorry this is so long and doesnt make that much sense but i have a lot of feelings #nyxi shut up about codependent relationships challenge #byler analysis

[eds6ngel]

I Will Always Love You

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

word count: 14.5k

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

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

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

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

MAY 24TH 1965

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OCTOBER 23RD 1965

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi darlin’, missed you”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 13TH 1965

A week late.

Her period was never late.

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

Which led to her one worry: pregnancy.

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 27TH 1965

Ring, ring.

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um.. wow, well, thank you so much”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FEBRUARY 18TH 1967

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But if I keep holding on maybe some day”

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

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

“For then and only then will I stop crying”

“And this aching breaking heart of mind will mend”

“Not until I feel your arms around me”

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

“And I live for then and only then”

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

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

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

“So, guitar huh?”.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEPTEMBER 20TH 1967

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

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

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

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

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

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

AUGUST 9TH 1970

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama! Mama!”, he yelled to her.

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

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

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

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

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

He slowly nods, “Okay, mama”.

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

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

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

He shakes his head, “No mama”.

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

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

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

AUGUST 2ND 1971

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our little secret”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slap.

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

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

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

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

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

APRIL 6TH 1972

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slap.

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

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

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

Slap.

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

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

“STOP IT!”.

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

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

But it was too late.

Slap.

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

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

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

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

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

JUNE 14TH 1974

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I should stay”

“Well I would only be in your way”

“And so I'll go, and yet I know”

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

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

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

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

“I will always love you”

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

MARCH 6TH 1975

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

Which led to James blaming this problem on Evelyn.

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

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

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

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

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 9TH 1975

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

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

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

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

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

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

FEBRUARY 26TH 1976

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s beating.

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

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

“911, what’s your emergency?”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARCH 11TH 1976

Leukaemia.

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

Ring ring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you ma’am”.

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

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

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

She croaks out, “Hey baby boy”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I will always love you”

“I will always love you”

He sang softly, his mom weakly joining in.

“Bitter-sweet memories”

“That's all I'm taking with me”

“Good-bye, please don't cry”

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

“And I hope life, will treat you kind”

“And I hope that you have all

That you ever dreamed of”

“Oh I do wish you joy”

“And I wish you happiness”

“But above all this

I wish you love”

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

“I will always love you”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARCH 18TH 1976

Freak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JUNE 7TH 1978

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie scanned the paper: an F in every subject.

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

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.

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

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

DECEMBER 24TH 1978

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help. He was offering help.

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

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

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

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

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

He was home.

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

#eddie munson #edward munson #eddie munson dad #eddie munson mom #wayne munson #eddie munson childhood #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eds6ngel

[storiesofsvu]

Jesus fucking christ.

We had TEN people at the bar tonight. TEN. And then a group from the theatre came over at like, 11pm, pianos stopped at 12, and THEY JUST WOULD NOT LEAVE. We had our entire cashouts done and printed and sealed, the bar torn completely down and a guy STILL tried to order a drink from me?!?!

Anyways. I’m FINALLY fucking home and it’s 2 am, but it’s “Thursday” so y’all know what that means!!!

Law & order (svu, oc/mothership maybe) spoilers under the cut!

Domestic snuggles.. imma miss this shit

Also why do people never plug their phones in overnight on tv!?

Grace that is a NICE coat, she looks great.

Noah being 12… someone remind me to do math on this later.

“I’ve been on 500 bumble dates, how different could these questions be?”

OKKKKAY now I understand more why Velasco was in the wedding shots, cause I lowkey thought it was weird he was there for the ceremony.

Nice plaid muncy… #bivibes

Jessie an billie have pink drinks (I assume Shirley temples) and it looks like Velasco just handed noah champagne… like I know it’s probs gingerale or apple juice but like… BRUH. It looked like Velasco was so distracted he just handed alcohol off without realizing it was a kid lololol

Is it REALLY that big of a surprise that johnny d has other kid out there? Also how long is it until noah asks about his dad? Like what has liv told him?

Noah knows he’s adopted, he knows his mom is dead and that he can’t see gramma Sheila anymore, he only has liv and she works so much that she definitely should let them meet.

OH okay so he knows his dad was a criminal… noted… noted….

liv…baby…. I know you’re concerned about him being johnny d’s kid, but like, so is noah… also bebe remember the time you left your kid with his “friends” and they locked him in a dog cage? Pls. let him play playstation.

Okay staying the night is a little much. Like first watching them look like a full happy family, but also FLASHBACKS TO SHIELA STEALING HIM.

FUCK Velasco in a suit… I forgot how good that looks.

“EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ANIMAL” OH MY GOD GRACE lololololol

Jfc. These rollins and liv grilling this guy in the hotel room?! Getting all super close power lady?! FUCK ME.

STOP IT YOU TWO!!!  THIS IS FUCKING TOO MUCH. THEY’RE BOTH TOO FUCKING HOT. IVE MISSED AMANDA FLIRTING WITH PERPS, I’VE MISSED THE TWO OF THEM FLIRTING TOGETHER UNDERCOVER FUCK. Imma miss this.

Grace m’am, you are on the stand, homegirl do up one more button pls.

Oh muncy…. You sweet summer child. I LOVE you but I hope sonny tears a STRIP off you because you deserve it. Like all im picturing rn is barba/alex/casey basically murdering you.

“on a scale of 1-10?”  “I’d say Vladmir putin.” FUCK FIN lololol

“remember I used to joke about you two in a hotel room? And now here *we* are” THAT’S GAY LADIES.

“You were a different person, you would’t let me in.” EXCUSE ME OLIVIA?!?! YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS A GIANT CUNT IN S13!! YOU were the one who kept brushing off amanda whenever she tried to talk to you or learn anything for like a year!

GOD this scene mustve been so fucking hard to film for these two….

Okay…. Okay… I said this to the discord earlier this week as I got to s8. Muncy does have some Dani Beck vibes…and her on the stand just enforces that. (minus the fact that I love grace and HATE dani)

Carisi saying “my wife” while looking all lovey dovey eyes. FUCK.

GOOD GOD. Im fucking bawling over the actual good bye scene. Fuck me. (also was that walk past then pull back into a hug a call back? Or is that just me?)

Okay. I am VERY glad honestly that Muncy was both not at the wedding and didn’t get a hug at the end (despite a random uni getting one). Not only have they only known each other 9 eps, it just wouldn’t be fucking fair to Kelli. I get it, Molly might not have known she was a replacement when she auditioned/got the job BUT, it just would’ve been a kick in the face to Kelli. Still and always love them both. But… yeah… it’s like when you have to train your own replacement right before getting fired kinda thing? Not cool. So im glad they were able to do that..

 Okay. Onto mothership… lets see how much I have to say lol.

Mechad is a fucking snack. Why must I be attracted to at least two people on every one of these shows? Three hours of tv after getting off work this late is TOO MUCH AND I still have a new criminal minds to watch. Fuck.

 Fuck…. That escalated quickly…. I mean….expected but…

Oh jesus christ…tonight really is about cops fucking up.

This is heartbreaking. The poor suspect is now gonna get extra charges because they were wrongfully arrested/sent to rikers. Fucking ouch. Why l&o gotta be like this tonight…

Okay… my stream cut out for the second time and fucked up and we ALL know Im not invested enough to care.

OC time here we go.

This purple looks great on bell!

Okay, new guy, cant remember his name rn, but him not only getting everyone gifts but having them wrapped that nicely? What do we think? Did he have the store do that or does he do it himself? The “I’ve always been that guy” makes me think he did it himself.

“merry Christmas everyone” jet’s way of saying “welp, mom and dad are fighting on xmas..”

Okay just kidding this stream died on me too… so…imma call it here, have my svu thoughts and some other tiny ramblings for tonight byyeee

#law and order svu #svu #svu spoilers #organized crime #law and order spoilers

[chlorinejello]

An email I won’t send to my english teacher:

i remember when you told me it was okay to vent in you mail. you have no idea how much i need this right now; i also remeber you said you wouldnt read it so if you do, please dont tell me you did.

how do we deal with emotions when were too ashamed to share them? i have a willing support system yes i keep choosing to stay quiet over talking about everything thats on my mind. i don't want to be an inconvenience, i don't want too be extra. because the truth is i feel like shit but maybe this is something everyone deals with and im being a pussy. then im just being pathetic in front of people for no reason, yknow? sounds crude but thats the way i feel. i had a dream last night i was staying at a beach house i went to with my family when i was little, everyone was there and my dad let my dog out through the front door. I yelled at him to let her back in becuase shed get lost, and he replied "We have to let her go." Then she just walked away; at the moment it made sense to me, so i walked back inside. Then I caught a sort of conciousness, I realized she was here, she wasnt real but she was here and I ran out after her. I ran as hard as i could, as hard as i knew she wouldve ran at the first chance to have a free space and i caught up to her by the shore. Some of my aunts were already there, they said something about me going after her "...again, like always."

She ran into the water with me trailing right behind her, i woke up before i got to the deep end. Nothing is the same when you lose a love that pure, that close to home. I lost her and I feel like I have no home; I come back to a house, and a bed that isn’t my own. My bed is always covered in fluffy white dog hair, especially the top left pillow where she sleeps. This bed smells clean, no trace of you anymore. Ive broken down twice today and made my poor boyfriend late to work because he knew i didnt want to be alone. He usually takes me to school, and this morning my mom left extra early, so i was home alone at the time. Worst part? Couldnt get the words out. I planned out how id vent and feel better but its the same everytime, im blocked off by the thought of my feelings being an inconvenience, or not important enough to vent and take someone elses time and energy because of. Im tired of carrying all this pain and guilt with me everywhere i go.

i run as fast as i can from my mind but i just keep running into myself, all the ways i fail myself and others, then have the gaul to sit and cry about it, to feel bad instead of becoming better. I feel and havent done enough for the ones around me to share my pain. But between you and me; yo extraño a mi cosita demasiado y pienso en ella todos los dias. Tengo miedo que sea debil, miedo de decir como me siento y que nadie entienda, que quede como inventora. Siento que para sentirme como me siento me debio haber pasado algo horrible, porque algo no puede acabar de abrir la puerta para que todo lo que tengo adentro salga? o algo horrible tal vez no me ayude, tal vez solo se añada al vaso de lagrimas que tengo en mi corazon. Porque mi dolor me ahoga si no creo que sea tan profundo para volverme loca? Porque si no siento que merezco llorar, sufro tanto? Si lo entendiera, cambiaría ? Dime si estoy perdiendo mi tiempo buscando una respuesta en vano, para si no me sirve, perder el tiempo dibujando en vez de.

#poetry #mental health #grief #dealing with grief #pet loss #quotes #poem

[frostbite-the-bat]

urgh. im not gonna be able to shut up about this now just due to how much it hurt me. i can't believe i got basically laughed at and belittled for not knowing how things work after FINALLY. ***FINALLY*** speaking up to my mom about my pains and how i should seek a doctor - not mentioning everything yet and just speaking on my hands and the carpal tunnel shit ive had for a year straight (notably, since i had covid!!!) and that i can't do much in a work place since that's what i'm in the process of finding. i was told if there's issues to speak up on them, but i cannot do that without anything from a doctor. i can't do that without the help of my parents despite being an adult now. if i did have the strength - i'd have to do it behind their backs and lie.

basically denied any and all support and laughed in my face, because "its because you sit and draw at the computer for 12 hours" and "its okay ive had this for 20 years and i work fine" nonoononon ur not supposed to be in constant pain!!! even if its caused by me being 'just unfit' and 'drawing all day' to the point i cause harm to my hands - it's still pain to be looked at!! even regular ol carpal tunnel should be checked!!

but for me it took me a year to realize it's more than that and almost my whole body is affected and i'd like to not only have it confirmed by doctors - but also get help that way!! i cannot work normally like this!! i coudln't do that even at practice (where i had way less rights i mind you. i couldnt do anything i was under the thumb of my teachers. at work i can just..quit.)

finally after everything...i speak up. and what do i get? laughed at my face and belittled. as always. this is fucking why i don't trust anyone. this is why my parents don't know anything at me. i'm a joke to them. anytime i speak up about anything small or big - i am ignored and pushed to the side as either "too sensitive" or that "thats not a problem". seriously all health problems to show up are ONLY treated at home. never at a doctor.

oh try to set boundaries? omg ur so sensitive i was JOKING ur so whiny. so sensitive. arent u an adult now? jesus.

like do they realize this is the reason why i don't speak up ever. why i am the way i am? just because you can't see it or feel it doesn't mean it's real. just because it 'CAN BE CURED AT HOME' doesn't mean i shouldn't see a doctor about it. (not to mention my mental health - physical health issues are more frequent. my emotional needs and my boundaries and comfort has always, ALWAYS, been ignored and belittled)

i know literally nothing about how this world works, i cannot just leave, i'd doom myself. that's why i gotta deal with this a little longer. and it's fucking agonizing especially as of today to have even more confirmations that my issues aren't gonna be taken seriously. oh im too hyperactive and silly to have REAL problems.

i fucking hate this and i'm getting really bad thoughts again, ones that i haven't had in forever. like. if i was hurt more people would listen to me, finally. like hurt and abused harder or having some accident happen to me. maybe then they'd listen. i wouldn't let that happen, of course. but i think about it sometimes. maybe then it'd be serious enough for me to be taken seriously, too. i'm so tired of this.

is support from the only people i have in my physical life aside from my ONLY friend too much to ask for? i'd say 'then they wonder why i spend all day online', but thankfully they never ask. in fact, they let the internet do the job of raising me for them for the most part!

it's a fucking mess.

#vent #also anytime i speak of my parents #i usually mean mom #i never speak to my dad he speaks to me first #i have very bad issues with my dad hes not a good person #i avoid him #but if i ever wanted to set boundaries theyre ignored. theyre a joke to him. its a game for him to break them then laugh. then make #himself the victim when mom and i stand up against him being an jackass. #fun!

[cutlikediamonds]

i might be a lot more active here for the summer lol

so i just finished my first year away at school which honestly it had high highs but also low lows so i dont mind coming back home but at the same time, the highs i got were mostly even possible because i wasnt home. my family means well and i love them and i dont want us to ever become estranged or anything but there was just a lot of unresolved trauma and grief among all of us and getting to escape that did wonders for my mental health and even my relationship with them. but i have no where else to be for the summer but home, where i dont have my bedroom anymore and im sleeping on the couch, and where i feel like im surrounded by people who are forever going to cling to a version of me theyve had since i was a kid because they refuse to realize i grew up or that they ever hurt me, intentional or not. 

(and it wasnt intentional ever, i know that, which makes everything more complicated because i know im valid in my anger about it but also know that they genuinely didnt mean it. its complicated. families are complicated.) 

anyways, that itself is kinda fine on its own. its stressful and it requires all my efforts of self advocacy and regulating my emotions but i was doing okay taking on the challenge mostly. 

but ive been here a couple weeks now and something has become incredibly clear that i wasnt really ready for, this house is still so goddamn disordered when it comes to weight and eating and its only gotten way fucking worse. 

part of me getting out of here and healing was i got to be completely in control of my own food and restart that incredibly unhealthy relationship from scratch and heal a bit for once. maybe even exercise for reasons that werent self-punishment. i got to finally figure out what foods i even liked because i wasnt just only considering calories and guilt anymore. now im home and i guess i forgot that they all stayed here and didnt get the same experience, theyve only gotten worse. and theyre supportive of me working on my mental health, even if they dont always understand, but ive never told them about my own eating disorder so of course they arent thinking anything of it, but im already relapsing. 

i went from not even having access to a scale to having two in the house. they instantly went back to calling me the skinny one. they love boasting about the number on the scale going down and how small their appetite is now and how they arent even hungry - they do not comment on the throwing up and the dizziness theyre getting from the injections. 

yeah, injections. not that im expecting an audience but for anyone reading, if youve ever heard of those injections that are originally for diabetics that are now being marketed for weight loss (as if it isnt hard enough for diabetics to get the treatment they need in this fucking country), thats what my brother and sister are on thats making them shed all this weight. my mom isnt on it but shes her usual self, being over supportive of toxic behaviors and trying to hide ‘junk’ food and shit from them, passing it all off as her being helpful. 

the thing is its again complicated too. i dont wanna be negative when they try to celebrate their weight loss, i know its something that has genuinely troubled them for years and i can tell this means a lot to them, but fucking come on. i dont need to be a psychologist to see how wrong this all is. i know its a lot harder to do the real work of unpacking your relationship with your body and diet and find a healthy balance but if this is the easy way out they take instead? 

theyre obsessive. i just saw my brother weigh himself after eating. my sister is body checking every time she passes the mirror. my mom keeps saying the calories in everything when either of them are looking for something to eat. someone told them ‘i heard most people gain back most of the weight after something like this’ (which is true) and its like they just refused to hear it - ‘im not gonna let that happen.’ hey, as someone who had the exact same fucking mindset when i lost a crazy amount of weight and was scared of one day gaining it back, yeah you fucking will. 

and thats what sucks. is i can see how shitty this all is but im too weak to help because its all just triggering me and now i dont wanna stop so i cant make them stop cuz then id have to too. i dont want to admit my own problems yet, then they try to stop me. call me a hypocrite, i am one, i dont know what you want from me. i think ive made it pretty clear we arent very mentally well here. 

so thats why im gonna post here more. i dont wanna tell anyone about it cuz i dont wanna admit how much it triggers me, and i also am sick of trauma dumping and venting to friends, so im just gonna grin and bear it and scream about it here. 

im down five pounds. its nothing compared to the tens of pounds theyve lost already, but they are kinda cheating arent they so im not even gonna bother comparing. my hw was 170, it was my sw for the worst stint of my restriction. i got all the way to 129, then started antidepressants among other changes and was stuck in the 130s and scared of gaining more for a while, then actually got a little bit happy and gained up to the 150s where ive stayed ever since. i never got to loving my body, i honestly still had a super long way to go with recovering. but it was something. im 151 this morning, i really really really want to keep going. if i can end the summer and start the next semester at 140... 

so yeah. ill see you guys later. this made me feel better. 

i hope everyone else is having a safe summer. 

[tiredassmage]

Back from vacation (very expensive, lots of fun, worth it lol) and that means my brain is thinking intently about blorbos again, so have another lil wip from a scene I started writing before we left because I got really emotional about Ziost again, okay?

Also, preface, I was trying to work on this really late while ‘Pump It’ by Black Eyed Peas was stuck in my head, but it was late, so it was like... it was being played on a record player 3 rooms down a dimly lit hotel hallway and it was just. A real experience, lmao. Because it does not at all fit what I was writing.

Rhystyl & Savosta + their continuing mutually unexpected supportive friendship they won’t talk to anyone else about, tbh. I care them a lot, idk exactly where I’m ending this though, so this is what you get for now, lol

Also, their referenced Yavin IV conversation is actually finished (x), in case that interests you.

“Theron’s right, Master Surro,” Rhystyl began quietly, “The Masters back on Tython… They can help you, we can…” He trailed off somewhat abruptly with a harsh swallow. The shallow platitudes about healing and leaving the past behind lodged in his throat.

“It isn’t over,” Master Surro breathed. She closed her eyes tightly, struggling and failing to ward off a grimace twisting her lips. “After all we’ve done…”

“In that much.., you are correct, Master Jedi,” Savosta agreed quietly as a frown settled across his lips. Rhystyl cast him a weary gaze. “The Emperor’s influence is… difficult to forget.” His eyes narrowed briefly. “But… in that, you are not alone, Jedi. That must be your strength. This Knight beside you is living proof.”

Rhystyl’s eyes widened. For the briefest moment, a ghost of a smile briefly turned the Chiss’s lips. He had not forgotten their discussion on Yavin IV.

“Didn’t…” Surro hissed through her teeth. “Didn’t… quite expect to be taking advice from a Sith…”

Rhyst smiled faintly. “In times like these, Master Surro..? We all need all the help we can get. Even if its source is unexpected.” He broke away from holding Savosta’s gaze to check in on his fellow Jedi. “There’s more than enough room for you aboard the Defender, Master Surro. Theron and I can get you back to Tython. It will take time. It won’t be easy. But nothing about this ever was.” He offered her a hand. “We would not be Jedi if we did not continue to try. Will you come with us?”

Surro considered his offer for a moment in silence. “Alright,” she agreed finally. “I’ll go. If that’s what Theron thinks…”

Rhystyl shook his head. “It must be what you want as well, Master,” he reminded gently. “You don’t have to commit to anything right now. At least let us take you home.”

“Alright,” she assented with a nod. “I can do that much, at least…”

“I will make the arrangements to get you all off-world,” Savosta assured Rhystyl quietly. “You will encounter no trouble from our forces. I swear it.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Rhyst replied. “Lana won’t..?”

The Chiss shook his head. “Do not concern yourself with our affairs at the present, Jedi. I still hold my authority and we will all need time to… lick our wounds, I believe the saying goes.”

Rhystyl puffed a faint breath of amusement as he helped Surro to her feet again. “Yes. Yes, we will… Take care of yourself, Savosta.”

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #ziost #dot words #ch: savosta #ch: rhystyl #master surro

[dashielldeveron]

and i’ve gotta crow | takami keigo

hawks x pro-hero! reader. quirk unspecified.

summary: “You’re suffering from amnesia,” says Hawks to you, in your hospital bed.

No, you are not.

“We’re engaged to be married.”

No, you are not.

After an accident that was that bastard Hawks’s fault, you decide to play along with your diagnosis of amnesia, among other things, because how far can you make your former bully bend over backwards for you?

fluff/trickery??? completely avoidable angst, bc reader is a little shit. hawks is a scumbag bully at first. reader is honestly kind of violent. dealing with acne in a scene.

When the first things you saw after groggily blinking your eyes open were multiple IVs in the back of your hand, you flipped over and snuggled farther into your hospital bed to deal with it later, but against your will you were forced to lie flat on your back to stare into the hospital fluorescents.

When the nurse fiddling with your IVs came into focus, he said, “You need to lie on your back. You have deep gashes on your lower abdomen, and tossing about too much could open the stitches.”

That sounded like bullshit, but you were too out of it to care. “Yeah, okay,” you said through a croak, “Oh, fuck.” You wrestled a hand to your throat, massaging it. “Am I waking up from a coma? Don’t let anyone see me until I’ve done my eyebrows.”

The nurse laughed through his nose. “No, don’t worry. You’ve barely been—” He cut himself off and frowned. “The news should probably be broken to you when you have emotional support. I’ll be back soon.”

He left.

Emotional support? Wouldn’t that fucking gash on your stomach be—ooh, ouch, don’t move.

Where’s your phone? Where’s your goddamn phone; where’s any of your personal belongings? If they got crushed, you’re killing Hawks on sight.

Hawks, oh, my God. Where is he? He’s dead. If he still has the audacity to bully you professionally—fuck.

He’d cornered you on patrol earlier—whenever that was—and cut into you in that casually, negging-type way that wasn’t enough to report but enough to make you stay up late and freak out about being good enough. It hurt your chest whenever you thought about it.

But this was the first time he’d gotten seriously physical.

He’d alit on the top of the warehouse next to you, landing what would have been haphazardly for anyone else (the arch of his feet against the edge, his toes barely touching roof) and had crouched next to you, his scarlet wings completely blowing your cover as they stretched and shuddered.

“What’s a little girl like you doing in this part of town?” Hawks had propped his chin on both his fists. “Thought shoplifters were more your calibre.”

“Hawks, this is actually really important to me, so please, please leave,” you’d said, keeping your eyes on the group you could barely make out through the skylight. They’d already been partially concealed by crates, so they were hard to see.

“Someone else give you a tip for their location?” He’d tapped your opposite shoulder with the end of his wing, but you hadn’t even flinched.

“Bruh, you know I’ve been on this for weeks,” you’d said, shifting away from him, “I even shared intel at your last briefing.”

“Is that what you were talking about?” Hawks had scratched his chin. “I zoned out. Usually the little cases female heroes present aren’t in my circle, and I like to unwind when brain power isn’t needed.”

You’d planned to rip his wings out feather by feather while you’d gritted your teeth. “You can’t talk to me like that, Hawks.”

He’d laughed, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “C’mon, babygirl, have a slice of chill, won’t you? I thought you were one of the cool girls. Relax. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“Leave me alone, Hawks. You’re not gonna bully me into joining your agency. You’re not gonna bully me into quitting being a hero,” you’d said, inwardly screaming, “I’d tell you to go talk to someone who’d fall for your shit, but then, she’d have to suffer, too. So, fuck off into a sewer, jackass.”

“Oof,” Hawks had said, placing a hand over his heart and shaking his head, “You don’t have to be such a bitch, sweetheart. I’m only looking for my better half. Didn’t think it could be you, but I’d thought I’d give you a chance to prove me wrong. Don’t take yourself too seriously; just be along for the ride like the rest of us.”

“Huh,” you had said, and you’d stood and strode to the edge of the warehouse to your harness and rope, and you rappelled down the side of it as stealthily as you came up.

“I’ve been watching you all these years, sweetness, and I know you by now; I know how you really feel,” Hawks had said a bit too loudly while he flew downwards at your speed (braggart). “Strip away all of your busy work, your so-called hero trappings, and we’d mesh together just fine. We may be rough around the edges, but we clean up really nicely, don’t we?”

You’d unclipped your carabiner and stepped out of your harness, stashing it in your pack. “Fuck off.”

You’d moved towards the back entrance, but Hawks had slammed a hand against the concrete wall in front of you. You’d ducked under it and carried on, and he’d grabbed the back of your shirt.

“C’mon, if we didn’t know each other, and our eyes met from across the room at some hero gala, you’d be all over me, wouldn’t you?”

You had swiped his hand away. “I’d be putting a lid on my drink.”

His arms behind his back, Hawks had followed you through the door and behind the exposed pipes and closer to your targets. “Saw you coming onto Todoroki at the last one. You looked fine in his colours, but you would’ve looked better in mine.”

Don’t grace him with an answer; don’t grace him with an ans— “I wasn’t coming onto Shoto,” you’d said, pulling yourself up a couple of pipes for a better view—and you’d hit him when he flapped his wings to hover the few feet you’d ascended, because the noise might alert them.

“Yeah, you just simp for him, right? Then you didn’t step outside your comfortable ice queen act?” Hawks had gripped onto a pipe just underneath your ass. “You’re too much of a natural tease for that.”

How can you report him when he’s the head of his own agency? You guess the commission might listen, but what can they do besides slap his wrist? There’s really no one who can stop him, is there?

You hadn’t replied but instead crawled onto the iron catwalk. If you could position yourself about three-quarters of the way across, you’d be able to effectively activate your quirk and get this over with—wait, why would you think like that? You’d been waiting for this for ages.

A hand spreading across the small of your back had reminded you.

You’d flipped over with fire in your eyes and kicked him away as quietly as you could, but all he’d done was sit back on his knees to grin down at you, army-crawling your way through a dirty warehouse.

Would he take credit for your work again?

You’d shaken yourself. Eat my entire ass, Hawks. And with that, you’d continued inching towards your targets. When you’d gotten into position to watch them, Hawks had merely watched you.

You had scowled. “I’m gonna tear you a—”

“You had a hard childhood, didn’t you?”

A chill had unfurled up your spine, simple as that. Hawks now not only had the annoying air of an arrogant pick-up artist but also gave you an intense sense of danger. You’d moved away from him, regrettably away from your target, but Hawks had followed you, getting closer until his body heat had seeped into yours, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his dumb face.

“I could take suuuuch good care of you, little girl,” he’d said under his breath, “if only you’d let me. No one else is crazy enough to call me out or want more than the bare minimum.” His wings had folded in on his back, making themselves as small as possible to get closer to you. “If you give in, tell me yes, say please, you wouldn’t have to let any worries cross your pretty little mind. All you have to do is let me in.”

“Yikes,” you had said, sucking in through your teeth, “God, you’re a creep.”

Hawks had slammed you down onto the catwalk, iron reverberating through the warehouse as it struck your head, and your targets had looked up by the time the catwalk hinges had loosened and had come crashing down in the midst of their meeting.

You’re really not supposed to shoot guns inside. Don’t they know that’ll ruin their ears? No matter, really. You had fought them anyway, amidst crates splintering open from whatever they were shooting at you—fuck, that was a big hole. What’s oozing out of that? Gross, don’t step in it.

One with a normal revolver—his arm had given a woody crack when you’d bent it backwards—God, that was nice. Good sounds. If you could sample them into a rap track, you would.

You’d been planning a collab with a popular rapper while you’d hurled yourself at another villain, sawdust flying—just to keep your mind busy, really, but fucking—fucking Hawks had bested whoever he’d half-assed to the ground and had shouted your way.

“C’mere, you little shit—”

He’d scooped you up while you’d been taking care of it by yourself, and he had pinned you down behind a stack of crates that reached the remains of the catwalk, straddling you but keeping most of his weight off, his wings outstretched yet still hidden from the cloud of sawdust rising with deep gurgling on the far side.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he’d said over the chaos, spit flying, “You can’t handle this; you’re gonna get fucking killed. I can’t babysit you all the time.”

“Get fucked; I’m the number fourteen hero,” you’d said, deadly still, but twitching in fury, “I can handle anyth—”

“Aww, fourteen. And one day babygirl might reach the single digits.” Hawks had sneered in your face. “If she manages to fuck her way through them.”

Your jaw had dropped, and you pretended to cough on sawdust and kicked him off in the confusion. Hawks had grabbed a hold of your calf, grappling for your thigh, while you’d scrambled to climb over crates to the gurgling mess on the other side; you could handle it, and you would.

You’d slapped his hands away, wrestled out of his grasp again and again, and you’d launched yourself into the dust—

Yeah.

While the fluorescent lights flickered overhead, you picked at a hangnail. You hadn’t braced yourself for the explosion, so, you guessed you deserved whatever was wrong with you now. Big-ass gashes on your stomach. Probably broken ribs. Something felt off in your left leg, besides—oh, ho, what had the doctors thought when they’d seen Hawks’s scratches?

What an idiot.

When the door creaked open, the nurse returned with a mug of water for you, but—what? Who’s that bitch following him?

You blinked, twice. With his hands in his pockets and his nasty little wings tucked in behind him, Hawks meandered to your bedside, his gaze on your throat as you swallowed down water.

God, you’re too tired to deal with him. Let’s get this over with.

The nurse glanced over his clipboard. “I’ve already told your partner this, but I thought you would want him here.”

Maybe if you ignore Hawks, he’ll leave.

“You were very brave today,” said the nurse, “Your work as a hero is greatly appreciated. You’re on temporary leave to heal, though. Like I said, you’ve got three, major gashes on your stomach, and your leg’s broken—the fibula split, if you want to know. You’ll be on crutches for a while. You have four broken ribs, and—” The nurse bit his lip and softened his voice. “You hit your head pretty hard. Nothing’s broken, but you should have amnesia, with the trauma you’ve endured.”

Should have? They don’t know? You sure as hell don’t fucking have amnesia. It barely happens in real life, and it definitely hasn’t happened to you. You remembered every fucking infuriating thing Hawks did to ruin your mission, and if he doesn’t square up—

“I’m so sorry, baby,” said Hawks, grabbing your hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb, and then he took his glove off to hold you skin-to-skin. “You remember who I am?”

You just stared at him.

“Your fiancé’s been a real presence in the waiting room,” said the nurse, “He hardly stopped pacing the entire time you were in surgery. He wouldn’t even talk to fans.”

Oh, my God.

Holy fucking shit.

“Oops, sorry,” said the nurse, covering his mouth, “I know you were keeping it a secret. Don’t blame him, please; he only told me to be able to see you immediately.”

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep, deep breath. You have been handed a golden opportunity on a fucking Hawks-shaped platter, holy fuck, and by God are you going to take advantage of it. Imagine how much you can fucking humiliate him, how far you can take it. How much you can make him pay for how he treated you, and now, if he says he’s your fiancé, then he’s gonna fucking worship you. You’re going to mould him into your little bitch, and he’s going to thank you for it. And you’ll get endless dirt on him just by seeing his place.

Don’t fuck this up.

Exhaling, you opened your eyes, blinking a bit. You curled your lips into your mouth, biting the lower one. “I remember you’re Hawks,” you said in a nervous voice, “and I remember, uh.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” Hawks squeezed your hand, his tone kind. “It’ll come back in time.”

You clutched Hawks’s hand while the nurse rattled off instructions and gave you your crutches, and Hawks squeezed your hand back, softly smiling at you.

When the nurse left, you turned to Hawks and said, “I’m so, so sorry, but I—I feel like there’s something big missing that I can’t remember.” You scratched your forehead with your free hand, dragging the IVs with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hawks tilted his head, still gazing decidedly down at you.

“Oh, God,” you said, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Um.” Take it back. Take it way back. That way he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. The more lies he has to create, the funnier it’ll be. “Let’s see, I, hm.” You already weren’t speaking like yourself, but you looked upward as you faked combing through memories. “I don’t know how things work chronologically, but the most recent memory I have of you is—it’s after a press conference, and I’ve never been in the building before,” you said slowly, “And I can’t find the bathroom, but some press keeps following me, and I—I faceplant in between your shoulder blades, right between your wings. You—” You lowered your voice, shrinking a little in the hospital bed, “You got rid of them so easily, with just a gesture, and you put your arm around me. You were—” You shook your head, staring at both of your hands. “—so warm.”

Was that too thick? That was too thick, wasn’t it?

His free hand shot to his mouth, and he bit his knuckle. “But sweetheart, that’s,” said Hawks, his eyes watering, “That’s only around the third time we met.”

You know.

“Shit,” you said, widening your eyes, “How long ago was that?”

“Three years.” Hawks squeezed your hand and kept the pressure longer than was necessary. “Three fucking years. You don’t remember anything past that?”

You pretended to be scared to look at him. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry—”

“No, no, you don’t have to be,” said Hawks, and he leant towards you to lift your chin, rubbing his thumb against it, “It’s not your fault.”

You had to hand it to him: Hawks was a good actor.

But so were you.

***

Hawks disappeared for a while after that, but he manifested the day you were loosed from the hospital, more than giddy to carry all of your shit all the way to your flat. He was probably getting some sick pleasure from watching you hobble on your crutches.

“I can help you, if you lean on me,” said Hawks, giving you an easy grin, “I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you have to.”

“This is something I should do myself,” you said in what was hopefully a tough-it-out voice, “I’d like to be able to walk without depending on anyone.”

“I honestly think you ought to be in a wheelchair.” His wings bristled. “But what do I know? I could fly us to your place, if you like.”

“I don’t like. I’ve gotta concentrate on limping. Stop talking, Hawks.”

You got to your flat, and Hawks had guessed which key opened the door on the first try. Drat! He was already doing a good job of acting like he’d been here before, like he’s not surprised that the number fourteen hero lives in a pretty shitty apartment (you started living here as a student and got too damn comfortable for your own good—plus, you didn’t want your cat to endure the trauma of moving).

Hawks plopped your keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter, and he shut the front door behind you, flipping one of the locks.

He set your stuff neatly on the kitchen table—your purse, your tactical pack, your ropes—and lay your dry-cleaned hero suit over the back of a kitchen chair, and his hands were on you the next moment to guide you to your tacky, sunflower couch. Removing one crutch, he put your arm over his shoulder instead, one hand planted on your lower back above your bandages, and he eased you down onto the cushions.

Hawks then stepped over your legs to sit on your opposite side, and he brought your legs to rest in his lap, his hand gripping your non-casted leg. “Gotta keep it elevated, chickadee.”

You let yourself giggle. Time to get this shitshow started. “Thank you so much for helping me, Hawks; I know I’ve been a real hassle these past few days, and you shouldn’t have to deal with that sort of stress. You’re already under so much. I don’t understand how the commission would let you date anyone, let alone propose.”

“Oh, I know,” said Hawks, spreading himself out on the couch. He shifted himself to face you in addition to accommodate his wings—he was now positioned so that they’d drape over the arm of the couch instead of being squished against the back cushions. That bitch, he probably wasn’t used to couches that weren’t custom made to his special body requirements. Spoiled fuck.

“The commission was really pissed when they found out. Do you remember how, sweetness? Right, I’ll tell you,” said Hawks, running an ungloved hand through his hair before shaking it loose. “You remember up to the press conference with the faceplant. Short version is that you hated me for a good year before something clicked. You started acting awkward whenever I was around, avoiding me, and stuff. Sometimes getting red. I thought it was cute.”

You ducked your head. Flustered. He probably likes easily flustered women.

Wait. That’s not who you are. And he’d like you for who you are, if you’re engaged.

But at the same time, if you’re (gag) in love with him, wouldn’t you be flustered by some of the things he says?

Easy, baby. Take it as it comes. Pick your battles. Go with your gut.

And gut says make Hawks eat shit.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I know you’re cute.”

You’re going to stuff his own feathers down his throat.

“We got together at that dinner Endeavor’s agency sponsored. Do you remember that at all? That place with the purple lights. You’d gotten nervous from the crowd and had gone to take some of your anxiety meds. I caught you in the hall back from the bathroom and talked you down before going back out there.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’d like to say I’m the one who kissed you, but you took initiative before I had the guts.”

Funny. Hilarious, in fact. That was the night Hawks had solidified himself as the Biggest Dick in the World, because yeah, he’d caught you in the purple-lit hallway, but he’d caught you on the way to take your meds, not on the way back. You were talking yourself down from a panic attack and couldn’t argue him away, so he’d followed you into the bathroom, running his mouth and acting like it was an accident when the tip of his wing had knocked your two capsules down the sink.

He’d told you that if you’re a big girl, you’d be able to handle the rest of the night. Or you could leave at any time with him, and he’d make excuses that everyone would have to accept.

Honestly, you’d love to let his fake memory be true, because then, you’d be able to wear purple again without feeling queasy.

Cocking your head, you smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Hawks let out a light laugh, craning his neck to rest his head on the back of the sofa. “That’s what you said that night, too. About how it felt out of character.”

“Was I good?”

Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow at you: probably the first genuine emotion he’s shown you the whole time he’s been here. “Hm?”

“When I kissed you. Was it good,” you asked flatly.

“Oh,” Hawks said, his wings puffing out just barely, “Oh, sweetheart, you were amazing. Groundbreaking. Show-stopping.” His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and he shifted underneath your legs, leaning slightly towards you but holding eye contact before carrying on.

You shook your head. “I don’t have the energy to give you the makeout session you deserve,” you said, envisioning drowning him in the bathtub, “I’m exhausted. Forgive me.”

“Always,” said Hawks, “Want me to keep going?”

“You can hardly eat me out when we haven’t kissed yet.”

“I meant,” said Hawks, pausing to visibly swallow (was it real?), “about our relationship, but if you wanna eat—”

“Nah, keep going. So, I started the relationship? I must be crazy. Neither of us have fucking time to sleep, let alone be in a relationship.”

Hawks never shut up about how he was taking time out of his endlessly packed days to spend time with you, how time was precious to him, and if he’s spending time with you, why, then, you’d better pay up, bitch (always accompanied with his hands on his belt, subtly pointing his thumbs towards his cock).

Hawks shrugged with his wings instead of his shoulders. Interesting. Has he ever done that before? “The commission said that, but after I insisted we’d make time, they relented. Eventually,” said Hawks, jerking his head to the side, “Our quirks don’t exactly fit well, so we haven’t worked with each other professionally too often, and, of course, we’ve had to hide our relationship so that we can’t be a public weak spot to each other. Plus, we’re more marketable as eligible, young heroes.”

“Fuck the market,” you said, slumping into the pillows.

“There’s my girl,” said Hawks, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth, “There’s her spark. I know, baby. I feel the same way, but being made into libidinous body pillows pays the bills, y’know?”

Nodding, you brought one of the couch pillows around for you to hug, and you smushed your chin into it. “Hawks,” you said, so quietly you almost couldn’t be heard over the A/C kicking on, “How long have we been engaged?”

“Four months,” he said, his grin unconsciously fading until he was essentially baring his teeth, “Since the twentieth.”

Taking a moment, you said, “I can’t remember anything at all.”

“That’s okay. It’ll come back.”

“No, I can’t—” You slid your hands through your hair, pulling at it, and you heaved a sigh. “Goddammit, Hawks. I wish I could—fuck. I’m missing something huge. I know I am.” Make him nervous. Make him lie awake at night. “I’m sorry, Hawks. It’s probably something really important, and I—”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh, it’s all right,” said Hawks, and he stood to lean over you, his hands rising to cup your face, and holy shit, his hands cover so much of your skin; is that legal? He’s got hands. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ve had a big day. Turn your brain off. I’ll take care of you.”

Red flag! Big, red flag! Creep! He’s a creep!

Your gaze fell to his jacket pockets. Does he carry date rape drugs on his person?

“Hawks, I don’t wanna inconvenience you any more than I have.”

“I’m your fiancé,” said Hawks, actually looking you straight in the eyes and not breaking, “I want to take care of you.”

“Sure, in the way the mob takes care of people.”

Hawks’s mouth opened slightly, and his eyes narrowed.

Cover it up. “I’m not sorry. I don’t trust your cooking. You’ll poison my spaghetti!” You made a dumb gesture, pinching your fingers together. “Have you seen The Godfather? There’s actually a pretty legit spaghetti recipe in it; it’s not too bad, but it’s kind of watery—”

Hawks brought your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles and let his lips linger. “Watch it with me?”

You shook your head. “I’m too tired. I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No,” you said, “My bed’s not made with your wings in mind.” Fuck off to your own little sex next, Hawks. Get out of here. “If they got hurt, it’d be my fault. Go sleep in your own bed, all right?” Go home. Get mugged on the way.

Hawks sighed, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “If you insist. But you’ve gotta reach out to me for anything you have trouble with, yeah? Memories, opening jars, orgasms, you know.”

“I’m leaving,” you said, reaching for your crutches, “Ten minutes ago.”

***

“You didn’t tell me how you proposed.”

Hawks froze mid-bite of his ramen, but after a quick beat, he slurped the rest of the noodle up. “I was hoping you’d recall that on your own, baby. Get your own feelings about it, instead of me telling you how to feel.”

If you weren’t faking amnesia, you’d fucking break his nose for that. Bastard.

“I imagine once you tell me, the feelings will rush in,” you said, clicking your chopsticks twice for emphasis, “I want to remember everything, and if I don’t, well, I want to fall in love with you again.”

Hawks’s gaze glazed over for an infinitesimal moment. Score.

“It’ll sound goofy once I describe it.” With his wings cramped against the back of the booth, Hawks scratched the back of his neck—a classic move for pretending to be embarrassed. “I’m not exactly known for being romantic.”

Yeah, he’s known for fooling around with anyone who’s glittery, like a goddamn crow. If you’re paying attention.

“Aw, but Hawks, you’ve been nothing but so effortlessly romantic to me since I’ve been convalescing,” you said, rolling up the paper wrapper of your straw and soaking it in the ring your cup left on the table.

“Right, well. I flew us out to the countryside, to this overlook halfway up a mountain. You liked going rappelling there a lot. To practise for missions.” Hawks had some of your habits down, at least. Bet he gets the location wrong, though. “We watched the sunrise. We shared a thermos of tea. I asked you once the sun had risen, but you didn’t say yes right away,” said Hawks, “You jumped off the overlook without your gear, and I caught you. You were furious about it—you didn’t want me to see you overwhelmed. But you said yes.”

Ugh. That sounded about right. That sounded pretty realistic. Hawks was a fucking stalker.

“Fuck,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “That’s cute.” You stretched the skin of your cheeks before releasing, and you returned to your ramen. “Question: did we put the ring into storage, or something? I don’t have the little indent on my ring finger from wearing a ring too long, and I haven’t found anything at home.” Make him sweat. Make him stumble. Where’s the ring, Hawks?

With a flash of his eyebrows, Hawks maneuvered his straw to his mouth using only his lips, looking quite stupid, in your opinion. “Figured you’d ask that at some point. I’m so overjoyed to see you every time that I forget to bring it up. The ring’s been sent off to a high-level, government-backed, support company. I’ve pulled in a favour from the higher-ups. I wanted to turn your ring into something a little more personal and incorporate one of my feathers into it,” said Hawks, taking a moment to slurp his drink noisily, “Depending on how well it goes, I’d be able to help you if we’re separated and know where you are. At the very least—” Hawks ducked his head to give the illusion of staring up at you with wide eyes, his blond eyelashes light against his skin. “—I’d be able to feel your heartbeat. It would bring me great comfort.”

Great, so he’d have a GPS on you at all times, knowing whether or not you went somewhere he didn’t want you to. He’d be able to tell if you went somewhere your non-amnesia self would know about. Great. Phenomenal.

“Hawks, that’s very sweet,” you said, fiddling with the remnants of your straw wrapper, now fizzled out of its snake shape, “Wouldn’t the process hurt you, though? Since you can feel it.”

“Nothing more than a twinge, sweetheart,” said Hawks, holding up his hands, “And I’d bear any amount of pain for your sake.”

You fantasised about beating his head in with the back end of a rifle.

***

When you were told Hawks was waiting for you outside of the recording booth, you told the messenger that Hawks could wait until you were finished with five more takes. You could picture Hawks’s little pout at the news, his feathers bristling despite the closed space, and resigning himself to sit in one of those clangy, metal chairs out front, having to hunch forward so that he didn’t crush his wings.

The idol group adored the ingenuity of bone-crunching as percussion in a song, and along with that and some other combat foley, you were singing the bridge with the rapper of the group (the dance captain would sing your part for live shows). It’d be a good promo for the girl group and for you, and the song, “Spine,” was going to be released as a single as soon as it was polished.

Hawks perked up the moment you stepped through the secondary door to the booth, his eyes brightening and wings spreading to take up more space. “I didn’t think I’d catch you,” said Hawks, standing to take your hands (the cold leather gloves sucked the heat out of your hands), “I’ve got to fly, soon, but I wanted to tell you personally.”

“You’re not pregnant,” you said, fighting the urge to break his goggles/visor/hat thing.

His lopsided grin widened. “Not yet, baby. There’s gonna be a heroes’ gala held at the end of the month, and I wanted to let you know that I’m doing everything in my power to make it a positive experience for you. Here, I’ve got this woman’s phone number,” he said, fishing a slip of paper out of his jacket, “She’ll help accommodate the venue for your leg.”

Stupid fucking bastard man. He probably wanted to pick out your clothes himself, infantilise you and dress you up like a goddamn doll. Deny you your personhood. “I’ll be out of the cast by then.” You slid the paper into your back pocket.

“I know,” Hawks said in a way that was a fucking lie, “I just don’t want there to be any accidents. I can’t have my babygirl any more hurt than she is.” Hawks placed his cold, gloved hand against your cheek, and you, shutting your eyes, made yourself lean into it. “But contact her. She’ll make it the safest place it can be for you, even when I have to leave your side.”

God, galas were great. Big events for villains to ruin. You licked your lips thinking about using a new move you’ve learnt to take a villain down (involving clamping your legs around the villain’s neck to choke him as he crumpled to the floor—your combat coach had banned you from the move after you made her pass out). “Are we announcing our engagement, then? If we’re going together?”

“I’d love to,” said Hawks, “but only if you want to. The ring could be ready by then, if I ask them to rush it—”

“Let’s do it.” If you plunged the ring into icy water, would he start to shiver? Ooh, your ring’s going to act as a fucking bay leaf in your soups for a while.

“Oh,” said Hawks, sighing lightly with his eyes fluttering shut. He pressed his forehead to yours and rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “You have no idea how much that means to me, sweetheart. You are so dear to me, and I want everyone to know it. The best damn thing in my life. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, placing your hand on his face to push him away, “Don’t you have work to do, screw boy?”

***

“Did we have a date?” you asked from the edge of the bathtub.

Hawks dipped the razor in the water, washing off the hair and shaving cream. “We’ve gone on so many, darling; you’ll have to specify.”

“No, I meant for the wedding.” Let’s once again play: Can Hawks Cover His Own Ass?

Hawks dragged the razor down your freshly exfoliated, freshly-un-casted, freshly not-broken leg, starting at your knee. “Nope!”

“No explanation?”

“You wanna get married tomorrow? A six-month engagement is rather short, don’t you think?” His nose twitched. He’d said the scent of your shaving cream irritated his nose. Good.

“I don’t. Why didn’t we have a date for the wedding?” You eyed the actual and literal pile of your dead skin on the towel. Maybe you should make Hawks snort it.

“We were too busy working; you’d said you didn’t mind having a long engagement, so long as I was yours. Then, uh, you know. The accident,” Hawks said with a shrug—with his shoulders this time, because if he moved his wings while he was crouched in your bathtub, he’d soak them, and they were a bitch to dry, apparently. Suffer, you rat bastard.

“The commission isn’t involved in that decision?”

“I thought that was implied,” said Hawks, gripping your ankle to turn your calf to the side, “They don’t want it to be a huge spectacle, so even I don’t know how much of a wedding wedding they’d let us have.”

He’s too damn good at this. If he weren’t a pro-hero, he’d fit right along in a theatre troupe.

You’re going to wring his neck.

You caught him staring at the crotch of your underwear (bone-dry, you might add) while he shaved your thighs, and he spent more time rubbing lotion into your inner thighs than anywhere else. He tossed your dead skin before you could make him eat it, and he scooped you up against your protestations about your weight and capability, humming while he carried you to your bed.

The fucker tucked you in and rounded up your cat to place in your arms (your cat disagreed with him and promptly leapt off the bed).

“Let me stay with you,” said Hawks, kissing each of your fingertips. It’s an order.

Yet you shook your head.

***

“The doctors said you shouldn’t drink,” Hawks said under his breath, taking the champagne flute gently from your grasp.

“But I want to,” you said, sticking out your lower lip, “I’m wearing goddamn heels and a fucking dress. I’ve got on makeup, for Christ’s sake. I’ve done my time; let me drink.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stay safe,” he said, and he set the glass next to some 40s-level hero’s place at the long, white tablecloth. “There’s already press paying more attention to us than usual. You wanna make a fool of yourself?”

“Yes,” you said, lifting another champagne flute from a passing gala waiter, “Who gives a shit about the press.”

Hawks laughed too loudly to be natural before lowering his voice. “Baby, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Promise?”

***

When “Spine” was released on a cool, spring morning to an excitable audience, you were lurking in alleyways by the docks, searching for a fight. When the music video dropped, you were smashing some guy’s face into a concrete wall. While more and more citizens recognised you and your talent, your work for the community, your connections, your popularity—with your rank steadily rising—you were rappelling down a port sewer to pummel a slime villain into dust.

You wiped his blood off on your pants, hands devoid of anything that could taint. You’d left the ring at home.

***

“You tricked me,” you said, scowling as Hawks pushed you forward, “This isn’t the rock climbing park.”

Once you deliberately smashed your face into the glass door and crossed your arms, Hawks held the door open for you. “Would you have dressed up so nicely for rock climbing?”

“A meta-game challenge,” you said, “to rock-climb in a long skirt.”

You glowered about the restaurant while you and Hawks stood in the lobby, his hand low on your back, suspiciously respectfully. You made no effort to hide your distaste: it was the place with the purple lights.

Over there at the absurdly long bar, Endeavor had drunk flat whisky without so much of a growl at anyone, despite it being his event. Hexagonal tables with lilac tablecloths dotted the floor—you’d hidden in one of the few booths, up against the exposed brick wall—but your hiding place had been ruined once a violet disco ball had emerged from the ceiling. Shiny, wooden floor that had reflected your post-panic attack face right back at you and let every shoe strike it with a clatter. No silence allowed.

The whole restaurant had lavender LED lights running around the walls, swathing the place in a distorted sort of purple haze, and any candles lit on the centre tables had indigo flames—you’d focused on how those might have been made in the process of coming down from your panic attack.

God. You’re going to throw up.

The hostess escorted you and Hawks to a farther back room, this one with booths separated by small, brick walls that didn’t reach the ceiling yet concealed the booths’ occupants from each other—unless you were passing directly in front of one.

Hawks made you sit in the booth first, trapping you in as he settled. He had to be on the edge, anyway, he told you, because of his wings. You’re going to rip them off and boil them in the soup.

The two of you ordered. You don’t remember what. You can only channel so much of your nerves into jostling your leg. This is not cool. This place is not cool. You need to get out.

“Hey, let me through,” you said, nudging Hawks, “Bathroom.”

Once there, you lightly slapped your cheeks a couple of times, trying to ground yourself through physical sensation. No use. Can’t they fucking use normal lights in this place?

You didn’t have your panic meds, because you’ve never needed them rock climbing. You can do it. You’re fine. You’re fine. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

You took your time meandering back to the booth, coming to a halt at the end of the narrow hallway and ducking behind the corner.

Endeavor stood by your booth, his arms crossed over a flaming chest. You caught your breath at the sight of his orange fire, a comforting contrast to all the damn purple, but still—Endeavor. Talking to your (gag) fiancé.

Without the courage to interact with Endeavor, you listened at the corner for his departure.

“Nah, she can handle her bladder just fine. It’s her nerves,” Hawks was saying, hidden by the bricks, “She likes hiding. She doesn’t necessarily like being in the spotlight.”

“Yet she hasn’t completely withdrawn as Eraserhead has. You’ve picked a strange one to marry.”

From the angle Endeavor glared at him, Hawks must be slumping in his seat. “But that’s what so great about her. And it’s hard to process, y’know, like, she’s finally mine. You follow?”

“Regrettably,” said Endeavor, “Regardless, I offer my congratulations that your courtship finally worked out in your favour. You should have told me sooner.”

Courtship. That’s a funny way to pronounce bullying.

“Eh, I’ve gotta have some secrets, don’t I? Can’t betray my otherwise cool exterior.” Hawks laughed. “I can’t believe I’ve been allowed such happiness. The woman I’ve loved for years is gonna be waking up to me every day soon, y’know?”

Hawks has got to know you can hear him, otherwise he wouldn’t be saying those things. Endeavor must be in on Hawks’s ruse, since Endeavor is Hawks’s closest—actually, Endeavor isn’t the type to revel in romantic shit. Endeavor straight-up isn’t the type to revel. To the best of your knowledge, Endeavor doesn’t genuinely like Hawks as so much as tolerates him; when did they get so close? It must have taken a long time—

Time.

You could feel your IQ dropping as you actually considered: had you been in a legitimate coma? Had you (fuck) genuinely had amnesia?

No, no. You don’t live in Crazytown. Your eyebrows hadn’t been overgrown when you’d woken up in the hospital. You’d only been there a day.

Of course, Hawks is a vain piece of shit and does his own eyebrows, so he might have considered that yours were a piece of pride/insecurity for you and may have done them while you were—did Hawks do his own eyebrows? That spoiled fuck probably had someone else to do them for him. If they were naturally like that, you were going to throttle his ass.

You didn’t fucking have amnesia. Hawks is and always has been a stupid, clammy birdbrain. He’s always been cruel to you. He didn’t fucking like you.

He sure as hell wasn’t in fucking love with you.

Oh, my fuck, what if your memories of Hawks have been fabricated by a coma-addled mind and that—

“Hey, there,” said—said someone, some pale-ass, sleep-deprived freak who startled you out of your head, “Are you all right? You look—I mean, do you need some water? A chair?”

You blinked, yet he wouldn’t come into focus—you were taking in details about him, ones that didn’t fucking matter (chain on his wallet, three rings all on the left hand, a button-down missing the last button, a cloud of axe body spray), but he didn’t register as a human person. He couldn’t; you hadn’t grounded yourself yet. You yourself still had a frazzled, cartoon scribble buzzing inside of your chest, and until you vomited it up, a panic attack may yet still happen.

You can’t deal with anyone new right now.

A spark of recognition crossed the new guy’s face, and he, through a smirk, asked if you were your hero name.

Oh god oh fuck not now

“Sweetheart,” came Hawks’s melodious drawl (registering first his voice, then bodily warmth, then the wingtip covering your ass), “You were taking so long that I came to check on you.” He pulled you by the waist towards him, blocking the guy from seeing your face by pressing it into his chest. “Who’s this?”

Who cares. All you could focus on (sharp and overwhelming, nothing else but) was how fucking incredible Hawks smelled, and at this point, you’d use anything to bring yourself back down to earth. A small voice in the back of your head told you that freaking out to this degree in this particular situation was leaning towards pathetic, since basically nothing happened, besides being in an uncomfortable environment and being accosted by a fan at the wrong time, but you? You did not control the rate at which your brain panicked.

And really, no rhyme or reason played into why your grabby little hands itched for human contact once safe in the booth again, why Hawks’s scent lay on your tongue more heavily than your soup, why the overwhelming sensation of being so fucking spaced out of it threw its entire weight upon your shoulders—you couldn’t find yourself. You were lost.

And in this horrible, purple place, the only thing that’s familiar was Hawks.

When you scooted as closely as you could to him in the booth, keeping your glare towards your lap while you looped your arm under his to snuggle into it, Hawks cleared his throat to say, “What’s this?”

You scowled into his jacket, both hands gripping his forearm.

He set his chopsticks down. “How can I help, darling?”

Growling, you bonked your forehead against his shoulder, dragging your hands down to his.

“Hey,” said Hawks, and he guided your face towards his and stroked your cheek with his thumb, “Did that guy bother you too much before I got there?”

Turning your mouth towards the hand cupping your cheek, you kissed his palm, bit the leather, and kissed it again before burying yourself in his shoulder again.

He rested his hand on the crown of your head. “What’s the matter? Can you tell me?”

“Not sure I can put it into words,” you said, “I think I wanna go home.” You bit the fabric of his jacket and gnashed it between your teeth.

“I can handle that,” said Hawks, “Gimme a moment to get takeaway boxes, yeah? Then we’ll leave, and you’ll be safe. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, you were still clutching onto his arm by the time he unlocked his darkened penthouse (because you’re not gonna hold his hand. God), but you slapped his hand away from the light switches.

“Turning them on would be too much stimulation,” you said, “Please don’t.”

Hawks hummed against the top of your head, placing keys and both of your phones on the kitchen counter. “Bed or couch?”

“Window,” you said.

“Window?”

“I’m assuming you’ve got one.”

“I do,” said Hawks, guiding you through his dark apartment, probably past scarily expensive, posh shit. He led you to what was most likely his living room, with the cool, dim light of the night sky through a vast, single-frame, wall-to-floor window illuminating furniture custom built for his wings, but he eased you down onto the carpet, tugging your shirt upwards so that the window would be touching your bare skin on the small of your back.

Hawks yanked his boots off, late, instead of at the door, and he tossed them over his shoulder. He took yours off, too, and once he’d set them aside, he sat next to you against the window, a hand on your thigh.

“Better?”

“Probably,” you said, staring at the triangle of light beige carpet between your crossed legs.

“Need me to talk? You need to talk?”

“Not right now.”

Hawks was a dumbass. He’s such a fucking dumbass. But he’s a dumbass who’s here right now, and he’s interested (?) in you, interested in helping you. And good golly, you have to be touched. Hawks’s offering warmth, freely, potentially lovingly, and all you had to do was reach out to take it, even if you didn’t reciprocate whatever sentiment was motivating him yourself.

Do you really want to take what you have no feelings for?

Hawks lies a lot to Endeavor. To everyone. He might not have been lying earlier. What reason had he to lie?

Guess it didn’t matter, because you were lying.

But good God, you haven’t been kissed in a long time. Haven’t felt safe or loved. You could…you could indulge for a few hours in order to calm down. You could pretend.

The last ten months had proved that.

“Hey,” you said idly, reaching out to grab the inner fleece lining of his jacket to rub it between your fingers, “Hawks, I’m gonna—I’m gonna put my mouth on your mouth. Okay?”

Hawks’s wings ruffled and constricted themselves so that he could move closer to you, and his hand has migrated from your thigh to grip your hip—how could anyone’s hands encompass that much of you? Your fucking hands couldn’t, not in the way his does.

(Bird man big and safe.)

([No, fuck you, don’t think that.])

(BIRD MAN SAFE—)

Shoved is how you’d describe the first few seconds of the kiss, followed closely by wet and you’d think his teeth would be sharper. Your lips didn’t line up with his completely until he adjusted your chin with two of his fingers, guiding it open just barely, as well, so that his tongue could graze your teeth—it took you a moment of processing before parting them, with a final don’t think! shouted to your neocortex.

Birds have a higher body temperature than other animals, on average having a body temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit (40 degrees Celsius). The colour of their feathers, of course, affects how much light and heat they absorb, with the lighter coloured feathers—say, red—reflecting more, rejecting outside heat sources.

Yet Hawks gripped you like he’d fucking freeze if he weren’t clutching you, if he weren’t straddling your legs, one palm flat against the cool of the window by your head. The other snaked around you, his forearm lying almost vertically up your back to press down between your shoulder blades, keeping you as near to his chest (he probably didn’t realise it, but his fingers ran across the curve of your shoulder blades where his wings were on his own body.

For some reason, the thought crossed your mind that you weren’t enough for him, because you were too dissimilar.)

Don’t think!

When he massaged your tongue with his, applying pressure sporadically, you returned the action—have you ever seen a bird tongue up close? They’re fucking nasty little things, looking more like a grub than anything else. Thank God Hawks had a normal, human tongue that performed particularly delightful, normal things, like drag across the roof of your mouth and aid in sucking phenomenal hickeys onto your jawline, licking over where he’s bitten and kissed.

Stop thinking about bird anatomy. Hawks has no discernible bird traits except for his fucking wings. He’s not a fucking bird man. He’s just some dude with wings. And not all birds have functional wings; for example, the ostrich and the penguin do not have wings to be used in flight—

Oh, my fuck. Turn your brain off.

Your stomach lurched. That had been something Hawks had told you too often, back before your accident.

It’s what he wants.

Hawks fucking whimpered when you pulled the shorter hairs at the back of his neck, prying him away from your skin with great difficulty—he kept trying to touch you with his mouth and tongue in the process.

“Let me have more,” he said, panting, his breath heavy and just below your ear, “Please.” He pressed his lips to the spot in front of your ear in a weak kiss, having spent himself for the most part. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me for so long.”

“I don’t—” You fake-stuttered, but it turned out you needed the time to put your thoughts into words. “I don’t think I’m back yet. I’m,” you said, taking as deep a breath as you could with Hawks smushed against your chest, “Something’s missing. Something big.” That’s right. Steer it back in his direction. Make the bird man sweat. “I don’t—something doesn’t feel right.”

It took a moment, but Hawks nodded fervently, shutting his eyes. “Of course. Yeah. Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. Can’t do anything when your heart’s not in it.”

Your heart’s not the problem. “Thank you for being so understanding, Hawks,” you said, untangling yourself from underneath him, “Would you just, uh, hold me for a while?”

His wings wrapped around the both of you on his enormous bed, still fluttering with each slow breath he took. Hawks almost looked genuine while he slept, and probably for the best—at least he was getting rest; at least his guard might be down.

You couldn’t sleep. Your mind was racing.

***

“Rank speculation is out,” you said, scrubbing the pumice stone over a patch of dry skin on Hawks’s back and scrolling through the twitter with your other hand, “Take a look.”

He opened the link you sent once he’d safely removed a dead feather that had been lodged in an odd spot in a wing. “Huh. Think I could truly take on Endeavor?”

“Well, he’s got that abusive-to-his-family thing, while you’re rocking the preparing-for-my-wedding look, and he can’t network non-aggressively to save his life.”

“Nor can you.” Hawks shot you a smirk over his shoulder.

“Zoom in on my speculated nine, baby,” you said, flicking away some dead skin with a satisfied/disgusted sneer, “And I didn’t have to sleep my way there.”

“Ah, ha, ha,” said Hawks, “Knew you could do it. Whoever’s told you that is gonna have to deal with my foot up their ass. You’re more than capable of getting there on your own.”

“Which I did. I have.” Wait. Hawks told you that. No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s a commonly said, misogynistic comment towards women heroes. Hawks isn’t special. “But having your foot up someone’s ass wouldn’t be good for PR, unless you wanted to advertise that you’re a kinky son of a bitch who’s cheating on his fiancée.”

“I would never,” said Hawks, and, contorting his arm, he grabbed your hand with the pumice stone to kiss the back of it, “But my PR is solid, regardless.”

“If the public knew how much time you had to spend preening these fucking wings, they’d probably appreciate you more. Or call you conceited.”

Hawks hummed. “It’s a necessary evil,” he said, returning to his wingtip to search for dead feathers. “Thank you for helping.”

“No problem. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t get to see how—Hawks, holy fuck. Do you feel that?” You ran a finger near the base of a wing.

“It’s your finger?”

“No, this,” you said, tapping the spot.

“No?”

“My God. It’s a dilated pore of a winer,” you said, already reaching for the tweezers, “Right at the base of your wing. It’s basically an enormous fucking blackhead. I’m popping it. Oh, my God. I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“You’re popping it?”

“You didn’t have a problem with my getting the ones where your costume sits.”

“No,” said Hawks, rolling back his shoulders, his wings spreading with them, “Gotcha. Get on with it.”

“Can I film it?”

“What? No,” said Hawks, “No one can see me preening, let alone dealing with acne.”

“There’s sure to be another hero out there with a wing quirk, right? I don’t know how you can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Hawks said slowly, “Since my feathers can feel—I suppose where the wings merge with my skin is pretty numb. I haven’t ever had to think about it.” He licked his lips. “Funny.”

He continued to scroll through his feed and tend to his feathers while you worked at his back. “Bad news: the tabloids got a hold of our grocery list from the last time we went to the shops. I must have dropped it at some point in the store.”

“Oh, so do they know what kind of ice cream we prefer? The horror.”

“No, but they’ve brought in some hack handwriting analyst. Talking about our annotations for each other on the list. Something about how you’re logical and I’m a romantic. The writer of the article is practically swooning.” Hawks pulled out a clot of feathers with his teeth and spat them aside. “With good reason, though. The trashy pictures they snapped of us are hot.”

“Describe them to me.”

“I can show you—”

“No,” you said, concentrating on your work, “I don’t want the image imprinted on my brain. Describe them in your own words.”

“All right,” said Hawks, crossing his legs and placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him, “To start, the flash is on.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. We’ve got that distantly surprised look going on. It looks like we’re near the eggs and cheese. You’re not looking at the camera, but I believe it’s in the moment I caught it.” Hawks flicked away a feather and let it fall to the carpet. “My hand’s on your waist. The other’s on the cart. You’ve scrunched your face up in concentration; it’s really cute.”

“Aw, we should get it framed,” you said, wiping away the gunk with a tissue and wadding it up so that no one will ever have to see or touch it ever again.

“Never,” said Hawks, “The first picture of us I wanna get framed should be on our wedding day.”

“It’s coming along quickly,” you said, setting aside the tweezers, “Bit more quickly than I’d thought it would.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” said Hawks with a light laugh, and you ducked to rest your head against his shoulder, straining your neck to reach him over his wing.

Hawks clicked his non-nasty, non-bird tongue. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Sighing, you said, “Turn your head this way.”

He did you one better, since he anticipated your plan. He twisted around, keeping his legs crossed as he pulled you into his lap. His wings initially bristled but wrapped around you when his arms did, and Hawks kissed your cheek, once, twice, until he arrived at your mouth, where he barely grazed your lips, rather letting his hot breath spread over your face—and he grinned up at you with half-lidded eyes (he’d left off his eyeliner today, but the natural marks below his waterline kept his eyes sharp, anyway).

“Kiss me, you fucking idiot,” you said, overriding whatever he was about to do by kissing him yourself, hard and open-mouthed, almost violent in its fervent. Yet Hawks held you lightly, delicately, but still close enough to freeze.

You ran your cold, cold hands over his bare abdomen, pressing your thumb down with considerable force to trace his muscles (he grunted at that, and that’s it; that’s right—make him squirm; make him sweat; make him yours). His finger only toyed with the hem of his shirt that you were wearing, as if waiting for you, which didn’t line up with what you had garnered about Hawks at all, but c’mon, man, come on; didn’t you want this all those months ago? Almost a year, now? Years, if what he said to Endeavor is true? But when he flinched away with a shaky breath once your cold fingers circled his nipple, you knew this was where you were supposed to be: right here, in Hawks’s lap, completely destroying him with hardly anything at all. Nothing but light touches and a strategic flick of your tongue. Idiot man. He must really like you if this is doing it for him.

You slowed and opened your eyes at that thought, frowning, and you pulled away. With the back of his hand, Hawks wiped saliva off of both of your mouths, yours first.

He waited for you.

“If you can’t take all of me, then what’s the point?”

He tilted his head. “I’ll take whatever part of you you’re willing to share.”

“I’m missing something.”

“I know.”

“I want to find it before we get married.” You laid your palm flat on his chest, and he grinned at the cold.

“You can find it,” he said, “I know you can.”

“I don’t know what I’m blocking out,” you said, lying—or maybe you weren’t? Fuck it. “Whatever I’m repressing is really fucking with me.”

“Take your time,” said Hawks, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I’m here for—”

“Hawks,” you said, faking the light of realisation in your eyes, accompanied with a sharp inhale, “I can’t remember your name.”

Hawks’s mouth snapped shut.

“You told me once. I know you did,” you said, moving to cup his cheek after tapping the mark underneath his eye, “but the memory—there’s a blur where you spoke. I—” You cut yourself off, biting your lip. “That, that might be it. I don’t know. Everything else about the scene is in perfect detail. I remember what fucking socks I was wearing, for Christ’s sake. But you. What you said. Maybe it’s something so personal, so intimate, that I’ve repressed it. Maybe it was too much for me to handle.” You cupped his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you. If you hadn’t been scrutinising him for some evidence of breaking character, you wouldn’t’ve seen the minute quivering of his upper lip. Hardly there, but it was there. “It’s a part of you that I want. Even if I couldn’t handle it before, I want to try now.”

Hawks averted his gaze, even though he couldn’t move his head. And bang, you’ve got him. Hawks’s name was still strictly secret, hidden by the commission, but if he’s genuinely in this dumbass situation for the long haul, if he’s truly in it for you, then he would have told you. Even if he wanted you to continue to call him Hawks, your own fiancé would have told you his damn name.

So, this is it. The way out.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out you’ve been faking all this time. Good. Let each feather burn.

“Keigo,” he said, staring into your eyes with a newfound determination, “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Oh, shit—you clapped a hand over your heart, your eyes widening. Maybe you could play this off as memory recovery instead of absolute shock? But you hadn’t any memories to recover, probably. Holy fuck.

Where do you go from here?

You tried to say his name but ended up simply mouthing it, and after clearing your throat and coughing a bit, you managed to say it aloud. “Keigo,” you said softly, reaching for his hand, “Keigo, I fucking love you.”

You’d only been kissing him for a few moments before his wings shuddered in a muscle spasm and flung you off to the side.

***

Only a commission higher-up witnessed your wedding. She stood silently to the side the entire ceremony in the courthouse and only shook Hawks’s hand afterwards.

You and your cat essentially moved into his penthouse and adjusted. Your mostly empty apartment stayed leased under your name.

Sometimes, you’d note that you turned your brain off and instantly be hit with a lightning strike of self-loathing—but you didn’t have to consciously decide to be affectionate with Hawks. Being with him came naturally and easily. Probably for the best, since if you had to think about it, you’d screw it up.

You stayed together. Supported each other. Sneaked out to see the other on patrol. Took care, listened to each other. Defended each other. Worked it out.

And now, you stared up at the ceiling fan whirling in your darkened bedroom, Keigo lying on his stomach next to you in the bed as he slept. Your cat catloafed between his wings and nestled into them, rising and falling with each breath he took. Hawks was perfect, always saving the day, working up a routine to mesh with your fighting style and quirk, always charming and easygoing with the people he rescued, indulging you in your ferocity, and Keigo, Keigo whispered sweet and dirty things into your ear when he spotted you in public, made you laugh, worked wonders with his cock, helped you clean up before he even thought of preening himself, held you, and made you feel held. He’s got it bad.

And maybe you do, too.

Hawks was going to feel so stupid when he found out.

#bnha #mha #hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks/reader #hawks imagine #hawks fic #hawks headcanons #hawks fanfic #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo/reader #takami keigo imagine #takami keigo fic #takami keigo headcanons #takami keigo fanfiction #takami keigo fanfic

[avenging-criminal-bones]

After All This Time || Chapter Five

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 2,146

Chapter Summary: Anger. And harshness, maybe feelings. I haven't decided yet so I guess you'll have to just read to find out.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst?, asshat hotch again, sad feels

A/N: Guys, I'm like legitimately so sorry that this chapter took so long. It's not even that I've been all that busy. I definitely did go to California for two weeks, but after that I think I just got lazy? Had writer's block? I don't know. But New chapter is UP.

TAGLIST:

@kingofthetwats @wanniiieeee @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67 @ivebeenthinkingboutu @big-galaxy-chaos @rynfoxsleeps @phoenixsnape1 @mojofun @pachiibatt @enjoymyloves @thenewnormalforensicator @word-scribbless @zezezena @chelseyjoyce @ellyhotchner @lora21 @flipperpenguins @illegal-brains @sunnysaysbookreviews @anti-zippy-snoot @kya-li

You come to eleven hours later, the first thing that you hear being the steady beep of a monitor.

The hospital.

It smells... white, the cleanness of it making you scrunch your nose. Still not having opened your eyes, you sense the brightness, almost making you not want to at all.

However, you knew how hospital visits work. When Reid was injured, the whole team was there waiting for him to wake up. With that push, that you had people waiting for you to wake up, you opened your eyes.

Everything was too bright at first. You felt your lips fall into a grimace and joked aloud, "You guys don't need to be so quiet, she lives."

There was no response, and as your vision cleared up, the wind was knocked out of you like a punch to the gut.

Empty.

The whole room was empty. Aside from you and the TV, there was no talking. There were no people.

For a moment you thought that you were dead. Or maybe dreaming, because who wakes up from a seemingly severe injury with no support system? With no friends.

You hear your heartbeat speed up before you feel it, but boy do you feel it when it hits.

The monitor must send an alert to the nurses' station or something because shortly after, a small, black-haired woman rushes into the room.

"Agent L/N? Are you alright, is there any-,"

"I just- where- did my- wh-where is my team?" The stutter surprised you and you sat up fast, not realizing how prominent the pain in your abdomen was until it was too late. You let out a soft gasp, but looked at the nurse to hear an answer.

"Oh, uh, honey... I asked as they left and the tall, broody one said that there was an emergency." She walked up to you and turned a dial on your IV machine, gently asking you to lay down again.

You complied, not fully paying attention. Your mind was somewhere else; thinking about the harshness of your team, but you had to assume that this was Hotchner's doing.

"You alright, sweetie," the kind nurse asks, her name is Monica.

You nod slowly, your head feeling a lot lighter than it had when you woke up. "Yeah. I'm okay. Um, before you go can you hand me my phone?"

She nods, looking at you for where, and you gesture to the bag that's slightly out of your reach. Monica hands you both the phone and its charger, pointing to an outlet on the wall behind your head.

Nodding in thanks, you plug the charger into the wall and watch the kind nurse leave before unlocking your phone. You see immediately that you have five missed calls from your mother, and after further searching, you notice messages from Emily, JJ, and Penelope. JJ's was the most recent, so you open hers first.

JJ (BAU) 43 minutes ago.

Hey Y/N, In case you wake up before we get back, Hotch called our debrief meeting, so we all went back to the precinct. Sorry, hon.

xoxo JJ and the Girls

You didn't register the tears until they were falling down your cheeks. You sighed a bit and replied to JJ's message with a short, 'got it'.

As soon as you pushed the 'send' button, the door to your room opened again and your entire team rushed in.

Well, most of the team.

Really, everyone except one person.

You were quick to wipe your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying. JJ walked to the chair beside your bed and sat down, giving you the most gentle hug as she did.

"Did you get my message? Are you feeling okay? Do you need a nurse, any water?"

"JJ, you're momming her," Derek joked as he bent to give you a hug. "For real though, you feelin' alright, lil mama?"

You nodded, sending him a tight-lipped smile as Emily walked over to the other side of your bed, bringing Penelope with her on a video call.

Spencer even came by, but he looked relatively uncomfortable and stayed by the door.

Waving at him a bit, you say, "You can come in you know. I won't bite."

"I know, Y/N. I was just worried. Statistically speaking, you survived on an off-chance. The ratio was close to 83:17, and the bullet entered your abdomen in-"

"I get it Spence. I should be dead," you pause slightly seeing everyone's wide-eyed look at your bluntness, "BUT I didn't die, so everyone can stop looking at my like I'm going to break and just settle." You chuckle a bit and sigh as you see the rest of the team besides Spencer nod their heads or visibly relax their shoulders.

"You're right, kiddo," Rossi says quietly, "You're okay, and we can celebrate that."

"Thanks, Rossi." Smiling, you lean into his hand, which was cradling the side of your face for a moment. "Can someone get Hotchner please? I had some words that I'd like to have him hear."

JJ places her hand on your arm then and says, "Y/N, maybe that's not the best idea right now."

"No," you shake your head and make eye contact with her, "That's exactly what I need right now."

"Y/N..."

"Spencer, can you go get him please? He's just sitting out in the lobby, correct?" You snap a little harsher than you meant to.

The boy stutters a bit, but eventually nods his head and walks out of the room. The rest of the team shares a look before also walking out, giving you space for when your boss comes in.

Sitting up straighter in the bed, you even your mouth into a thin line just as Hotchner walks in the room.

"Am I off the clock right now, sir?" You don't miss the way his eyes flash to your lips but you choose to ignore it.

He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "Say what you need to say, agent."

"Who the hell do you think you are? Calling the debrief not only at a time where one of the team members can't make it, but when the team member is in the hospital with a GSW wound." Your voice rises steadily as you continue talking, but you have more to say. "Not only that, but you couldn't even be bothered to make sure I was okay when the debrief was over?" Subconsciously, you recognize the switch from a third-person mindset to a personal one, but you pay it no mind.

"Agent L/N, you-"

"No. You will call me Y/N, and I will be calling you Aaron. We aren't on the clock right now and you don't deserve my professionalism," the heart monitor spikes in tempo, and you throw the blanket off of your lap.

He quirks an eyebrow at you as you command him, but nods his head slightly, letting you be in control for the moment. "Go ahead, Y/N. You get whatever irrational anger you have towards me out in the open and we can deal with the consequences later."

"I left EVERYTHING for this job, Aaron. I left my mom, who never stopped grieving a lost son, I left my job there thinking this would be better, and I lost friends and people who actually cared about my well-being. People who wouldn't leave one of their own in an unknown hospital to wake up by themself, not sure if they were even actually alive since there wasn't anyone with them." You saw Aaron flinch with everything that you listed, but you didn't care. He needed to hear it. "So yeah, Aaron. I get to be angry, and you don't get to tell me it's irrational, because this is the most rational I think I've been this entire year."

"Y/N. You put not only yourself, but me, and the rest of the team in danger yesterday. Excuse me if I don't want to see you and be around you while you're in the hospital." Really, if burned Aaron to his core that he couldn't reach over and tuck the stray piece of hair behind your ear, because right now that's what he wanted to do. Except it's inappropriate and he's not sure you'd let him within three feet of you.

"NO! You see, that's not how it works. Are you telling me that if you saw a little boy with a gun trained on them, you wouldn't have done the exact same thing?" Hot tears fill your eyes, but you don't wipe them. You almost hope that him seeing you cry will make him feel bad, if even just a little.

Glancing at the way his jaw was set and how he clenched his fists in his lap, you knew he was struggling to keep his cool, so of course you pushed harder.

"What if it was Jack, Aaron."

"Dammit, L/N, it wasn't Jack. It was just some boy that we couldn't save. We shouldn't have been able to save him. You didn't use the training you had, and you didn't use the rational part of your brain. As terrible as that sounds, and trust me, I never want to lose a victim, if you had used the training from the bureau, we wouldn't have saved him. " Aaron stands up and paces the length of the bed then, feeling your eyes following him the whole time.

You shake your head as you let your gaze fall to your lap. "I wasn't going to let him die again... I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

Aaron's eyebrows furrow a bit and he looks at you with angry curiosity in his eyes, "Again? What do you mean by that?" That's when Hotch remembered earlier when you mentioned her mother who lost a son. "Y/N, did your brother... No. Actually, I'm sorry, just forget I said anything,"

There was a dark anger in your eyes as you shook your head. "No, Aaron. Ask me. Ask me this one question, and then reassess your profiling of me."

His gaze turned steely as he squared his shoulders again, showing no emotion in his voice as he spoke. He almost felt like the best way to approach you right now was as if you were the unsub.

"Was your brother murdered, Y/N?"

Dropping your head, you feel the tears burning in your eyes again and you nod. "He was only five. He had his whole life ahead of him. You'd think a child would be safe with a group of nuns or a priest, but no. Not even them. He was branded with a cross before he was killed and it's just unfair."

Aaron starts to walk closer to your bed, seeing the devolving pattern of your breathing, "Y/n, I'm so sorry, I-"

"No. Aaron, just, please go. I'll catch a flight home when I'm allowed to fly again, so you guys just go home and I'll figure it out. I mean, that's what I did when I was waking up by myself, right? Go ahead and fire me if you need to, suspend me, I don't care anymore, but I'll come back when the hospital says it's safe." You take a deep breath and watch as he turns away.

He gets all the way to the door before he turns back around and says, "What was his name."

"Joey."

Hotch nods and walks out of the door, remembering that the final victim, the one that you saved, was named Joseph.

After the encounter with Hotch you fell asleep. The heavy medication and the anger in your head knocked you out easily. You were asleep for a few hours, but you woke up when your pain medication wore off.

You noticed that your work phone had a few notifications, so you sat up a bit and looked through them.

There were two that stood out to you. The first one was a notification that read "Hotchner (Asshat) has added you to the group 'BAU Team'". The second was his message in that group chat.

Hotchner (Asshat) 2 hours ago

Hey team, change in plans. We will be staying here until Y/N gets cleared to fly. It should only be a couple of days and I know we were planning on flying out tonight. Sorry, Thanks.

As soon as you liked his message, your texts were blowing up from Emily. She was saying stuff about how "he totally likes you", and about, "you had a rough time on this case".

Also, apparently Derek saved all of his sarcasm for when Hotch got back, and the thought made you smile.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader #angst #sadness #talk of child death

[infinitegalahad]

GENERATION KILL: COMFORTING THERE PARTNER

"This is just me formally submitting a request for that gk boys offering their own forms of comfort fic/ headcanon/ thoughts wtevr. Lol just as a reminder. 😀"@theboardwalkbody

Gif Credit: @ymagor

A/N: You're wish is my command, homes❣️ Here's a little change of pace! @theboardwalkbody inspired this post (and asked it!), so thanks for the Inspo friend! 🤩 I'm doing this for BoB and TP because I'm going through a slight writer's block and instead of thinking about long descriptions, I just wanna so head canons that get a little out of hand. I hope this isn't too ooc😔 Reader has *inserted mental illness* btw, it's up for interpretation! ALSO GN! READER! Enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody @contrabandhothead

Masterlist

NATE FICK-

Nate's a calculated person. He can see the patterns in people, things, etc. Like how his father's eyebrows wrinkle when he's excited, or when his mother likes to prep a meal from vegetables to the main course. So when you're happy, sad, whatever-he knows it, and you don't even have to tell him.

He'll come home and see you. He knows that you've heard him calling you're name, but you don't move. He looks all over the house and finds you inside of your tub, just sitting there with no response. The water is running, and your clothes and hair are soaked.

So in an attempt to not disrupt your peace, Nate climbs in and sits next to you. You look over and he's stares at you. Just as your about to speak, he beats you to it.

"I'll get you a towel and some clothes."

And then, he just leaves. You hear the door quietly shut, and you blink for a few seconds. What the hell just happened? It snapped you out of your depressive trance. Now instead of feeling sad-you just were confused.

So you hear the door lightly open again and then close. After a few more minutes of soaking, you get out and see a towel and a set of clothes that are most certainly not yours. It's Nate's Dartmouth Lacrosse sweater and a pair of underwear-he knows you too well.

So you exit the bathroom and you see Nate, putting two cups down of you're favorite tea

And he's got that face. You know the face were he's like ☹️

"Hey, c'mere."

The two of you climb into bed with eachtoher. He throws one of those ugg blankets over you. You rest his head in his chest and he pats your head. There's a silence, until Nate says, "Do you wanna walk about it."

Normally, you'd say no and he'd read you a book you're reading or hold you as you cry, but this time, it's different.

"Yeah, I do. You won't judge, right?"

Nate tilts you chin up, and he's got a tired smile on his face.

"Why would I?"

BRAD COLBERT-

Brad may appear horrible with emotions and reading the room...in which he isn’t

Okay, scratch that. He tries to understand them, it’s just hard for him to give advice and use words to comfort you. He feels like he’s walking on glass, But sometimes, you just need him psychically more then anything.

When you storm out of a room when Chaffin makes a comment on your weight, Brad takes a few minutes to think what he should do.

Normally, he’d just leave you be, but he’s gotta do something. Getting up, he follows you down the hallway. You’re not far, and he’s calling you’re name.

You stop in the hallway, wiping the tears coming down toye face. Brad turns you around with his hands on your shoulder. He’s got a blank face on as he looks at you, seeing your red face and the tears.

While you sob and stutter, he fixes the collar of your shirt, tucks your hair behind your ear, which is normal. He likes to neaten you up to make you feel better.

But he starts to use his thumb, wiping the tears coming down your face. You shocked as he cups your face, making you look into those icy cold eyes. He looks like the Iceman, cold and emotionless, but what he says very Brad.

“You’re beautiful.”

Then he pulls you into a tight grasp. He’s a whole foot taller then you, and you like the way he snakes his hands around his waist and slightly lifts off you your feet. His sheer presence is intimating, but for you; comforting. 

RAY PERSON-

THIS MAN. although a hick with a big mouth, he does know when to shut up and can read you’re emotions like the back of his hand.

He can just see the sadness swelling in your eyes and the way you pick at the foot at your plate and avoid all of needs for cuddles in bed. Heck, it’s making Ray sad.

So he does what he does best-not shutting up, well-about things he likes about you.

“Man! Look at my hot girlfriend/wife! There reading books by the liberal media, total smartie here! Oh! And they have a degree from-“

Ray will also beg for to your attention and follows you around like a puppy. Like you’ll be sitting on the couch and he’ll come rest his head on your lap. You ignore him, but he starts to twist and quote random movies so you finally give in.

Is Ray annoying? Yes. But did he make you smile? Also yes.

Also Ray is a cook, and knows all of your favorite meals. Of course, he sets the table, lights a few Mantown candles (yes there real google them), and comes to serve your meal with two plates.

“The most beautiful man/woman I have ever seen, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the Avril to my Bizzy D-you’re hot pockets.”

It makes you laugh, which makes Ray happy. He feeds off of that attention. You sit in Ray’s lap, eating hot pockets, and watching The Best Damn Tour. You lean on Ray’s shoulder, and he leans right back.

POKE ESPERA-

Alexa play Whatta Man’ by Salt-N-Peppa BECAUSE! WHAT! A! MAN!

Poke is one tough mofo. He embodies the meme of “Good morning to my beautiful wife/husband and child everybody else get fucked”.

But like every baddie; baddie’s gotta have soft spots for there bitches. He has two; you and his daughter. And oh god he’s love the two of more then anything in the world.

Poke knows you and his daughter well enough. His daughter first notices that your not as enthusiastic and bubbly, and then she tells Poke. But Poke already knows because he’s observant and very in touch with his emotions.

So when he’s a work; he thinks and does a lot of self reflection. He wonders why you’re upset. Did he cause it? What can he do to make it better? He asks all the guys for advice, and even his own daughter.

An idea strikes! Poke’s got a lot of anger, so his therapist told him to express his emotions by journalling. But Poke learns that it helps him get everything out of system, so he’s a secret writer. Heck, he even likes poetry; and would kill anyone if they’d find out.

While off at work, small letters start to appear across you’re house. Some are long, some are short, but there sweet and make you’re day.

“I held the stars in my arms wen I held you”

“I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“Your eyes stole all of my words away”

And the covers of the notes are done by Poke’s daughter, covered in glitter and Lisa Frank stickers.

You confront Poke about this “mysterious pen pal” and Poke is like “I mean, your lips do sound tempting”

You know it’s Poke, and he knows it, but there’s something about the mystery that is very romantic.

WALT HASSER-

Here comes our favourie country pumpkin

Now let me say. This man LOVES you more then anything the world

Doesn’t wanna show you off (but he does)

So when you’re the slightest bit sad, Walt is even sadder then you are

Walt is someone that lives to receive attention, and also he’s someone that likes to give it. Especially to the love of his life!

Walt gives you things you actually need, and nothing that is materialistic. Growing up, his parents had a healthy relationship, and the apple clearly doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Waits on you hand and foot. A back massage? Done. A fuzzy blanket? Right on it! A specific burger from a joint that is thirty minutes away at three in the morning? Walt’s driving like a manic just for you. You have the man’s undivided attention.

“Walt?”

He stops whatever he’s doing and runs over, getting on his knees, “Yeah, what’s up baby?”

“Can you sing the song? Y’know, our song?”

Walt nods his head, now an eager puppy, and gets his gutair to play the song he wrote especially for you. And this is making me realize how painfully single I am oh my

RUDY REYES-

Rudy has an iv of respect woman/men juice. He always understands the assignment-and desires extra credit.

So whenever you’re down in the dumps, Rudy will drop everything and drag you into the car to go walk on his favorite trail. It’s ten miles long, but Rudy is a fitness freak.

First, you hate doing it. But the more you talk these long walks, the more you begin to enjoy it.

Sometimes there silence. Rudy won’t speak force you to talk. Talking is stressful, and Rudy will wait until you’re ready. The two of you holds hands, and Rudy has such a calming presence. It’s really hard to get angry at him.

You finally speak and tell Rudy you’re problems, and he listens and doesn’t interrupt. He’s got a hand on you’re lower back, or on your thigh. He’s basically you’re emotional support teddy bear and will always be a lending ear, or a total cuddle monster.

Rudy has the best advice as well. It’s always some yoga shit, but damn, those breathing  exercises do actually help.

EVAN “Q-TIP” STAFFORD-

Oh Q-Tip. My feral goblin son😭

I love him, but sometimes-things can fly over his head.

But when you start to ignore him and hide away from him, he begins to notice. And he HATES IT.

Like Christianson will ask him if he’s okay and he’ll literally quote a 2pac song and be like,

“I would drop all my girls for you, Walk barefoot 'round the world for you, Fly around like the birds for you, Thats why I wrote these words for you..”

Lilley is like “Brah we gotta help a homie out”

So the three stooges create Lovegate. The mission? to make Q-Tip’s partner happier.

Q-Tip is very artistically inclined. So with Christenson’s editing skills and Lilley’s camera, Q-Tip writes you a song and does a whole music video.

The man rents out a movie theatre venue just to show you. Of course, you’re blown away. It’s horrible and you can taste the autotone, BUT IT’S THE EFFORT THAT COUNTS. and q-tip has that smile on. you know what i’m talking about!

Doc Bryan walks in on the two of you making out and is pissed since all he wanted to do was see the re-screening of Bridemaids but NO, Q-Tip just had to rent out a theatre to show his partner a music video about them and then make out.

He see’s Lilley, who’s recording and asks to interview what Doc’s opinion on the music video, and this is what he’s says.

“I think my ears bled, but thank fuck those two aren’t acting like emo’s.”

DOC BRYAN-

The gif has a purpose. Trust me. SPEAKING OF THE MAN OF THE HOUR

Bryan, like Poke, is a very observant guy. He’s an angry motherfucker, and even a little insensitive, but ever since dating you; he’s tried to change.

He hates the world. People are shitty, and it makes him feel shitty that you’re sad because when you feel shitty, he’s in a shitter mood then he’s usually in

Knowing that his words might sound a little harsh, Byran knows how to distract you. Without words. After all, he didn’t work out for nothing.

Long hugs are you’re thing. The two of you will run into eachother, find a private place, and he’ll just wrap his arms around you. His big arms are protective, and he’s warm, and you just sink into him.

Sometimes, you’ll fall asleep. Byran sometimes will fall asleep with you, other times he’ll gently lay you down and put a blanket with a gentle forehead kiss.

When you cry in his arms, he’ll wipe the tears away. He can feel them against his arm, and he doesn’t know what to do. Crying girls/guys are not his speciality.

But when you squeeze his arm back, to let you know what your there and that you love him, Byran will freeze. He has no idea what to next with words. He’ll put his hand over yours, and turns out; it works well.

After this is all over, he’ll check up on you and ask you simply if you’re okay. You respond with a smile. Byran isn’t one for smiles, but for you, he shows a subtle smile back. Just to let you know.

#carrie writes #carrie’s headcanons #generation kill #nate fick #brad colbert #ray person #poke espera #walt hassar #rudy reyes #evan stafford #doc bryan #generation kill x reader #generation kill headcanons #generation kill imagine #hbo war

[blackopals-world]

Klapollo Case Fic Idea

This idea had been bouncing around my head and it needs to be free.

A famous singer's manager comes to the agency. The singer's name is name is Alto Idels. He wants Apollo's help getting Alto off the hook for a murder he didn't do.

Apollo immediately refuses. He tried to push the guy out when Athena and Trucy stop him. Apollo responds with "Then you defend him" before storming out.

In containment Klavier arrives to get a testimony from Alto.

Alto immediately thought Apollo was coming but was disappointed. Klav asked him if he knew the attorney only to get silence.

Klavier is familiar with Alto's music which was just okay by his standards. It always sounded off to him.

Alto goes to court on accusation of murdering his girlfriend. One of the roadies claimed to have seen him do it.

Apollo comes to court as Athena's co-counsel and refuses to look at Alto as it becomes glaringly obvious they know one another.

Athena had gone to meet Alto by herself earlier that day as Trucy calmed Apollo down. Alto practically begged her to let him see Apollo and her mood matrix flashed blue and pink. Sadness and love? There was a story there.

Apollo's mood on the other hand was red as can be.

"Hey AJ, it's been a while. Ive missed you. Did you get my texts?" Alto tried to awkwardly initiate conversation.

"Not the time or the place. And I deleted them." Apollo said gruffly.

Klavier felt a bit out of the loop but he didn't like the way he addressed Apollo so casually.

"Defendant, if you please. Focus on the trial at hand and not finding another victim." Klavier smiled but it wasn't warm or friendly in the slightest.

The trial goes on that day as the roadie who saw the crime had not seen the crime but heard it. She thought it was Alto because the couple were arguing earlier that day.

After the murder Ema had found a burnt notebook on that floor of the crimescene. It contained scraps of music lyrics and sheet music and it was guessed that the girlfriend destroyed his work and he killed her in anger. It being noted that the singer was going through a dry spell and had difficulty making new music.

Alto refused to disclose the nature of the argument regardless.

The case had to go on the next day with their witness knowing nothing in the end.

Athena pulled Apollo aside and asked what was going on and he wouldn't engage in anything she asked. It was clearly causing pain to defend someone he didn't like.

Klavier over heard them and asked Apollo to not work on defense but instead help out Ema and him on the investigation instead. He could still help Athena but also not interact with Alto.

Apollo reluctantly agreed since Mr.Wright already assigned him to help but didn't mention how he had to.

Klavier offered Apollo his support through the case as it was discovered that Alto's girlfriend had many issues with their arrangement especially since Alto was gay. Apollo support that line thought saying he was definitely not straight. When Klavier pressed for more information Apollo revealed that they knew each other in high school.

Klavier by this point realized that they definitely more than knew each other from what they both said and how familiar they were. Something he was certainly jealous of, wondering what gave this guy the nerve to continue pestering Apollo after whatever happened between them.

He also wondered if Apollo might take him back if he was innocent. He kind of hoped he wasn't, I'd be easier to hate him.

The came comes to ahead when putting the notebook back together song lyrics mentioned a green-eyed lover when the girlfriend had brown eyes. It was also revealed that Alto was cheating on her and evidence pointed to killing her to keep her silent.

Alto stated that the lyrics are just words and didn't mean anything.

But then an explosive shout rang from the gallery.

"You bastard! How dare you say that! Just words?! Did I mean nothing to you?!" It was none other than Apollo throwing everyone for a loop.

It was decently hysteria in the crowd as Apollo was asked to the stand to testify what that meant. Apollo denied and told them that Alto can speak for the both of them.

"Aj, I know you still mad at me but don't do this. My career-"

"Is a fucking sham! I don't want to cover for you. You decided a long time ago what was more important to you, now suffer for it."

"You can't just forgive me?"

"No...I can't"

The court was told a tale of heartbreak, betrayal, and lies. One where a teenage Apollo met a wannabe singer in band class and shared a small musical hobby. Apollo wrote music to deal with his issues and lyrics to help him understand English better since it was still his second language but now it just felt nice to make something. He wrote songs for Alto since he was trash at it and exchange Alto showered him with affection. They were a cute couple for a while until Alto sold the rights to one of Apollo's songs and began gaslighting him about how this was for their future and he is finally famous and that all this work doesn't pay for itself. Apollo didn't want to be famous or anything nor make a career out of this but he loved Alto so he went with it. When Alto finally got his first big gig he gave Apollo a present. A breakup text and a stolen notebook that had all of Apollo's music in it. He told Apollo that his producers didn't want him dating a guy because it looks bad and fans would hurt him. Apollo told him to go fuck himself and he could keep plagiarizing him as long as he never came back.

By the end everyone in court was either angry or crying over the betrayal.

In fact Apollo looked over at Phoenix and Trucy in the stands and if looks could kill. Athena was crying enraged tears as she tried to jump over the sand and give that guy a piece of her mind before a bailiff stopped her.

Klavier kept his opinion to himself but didn't pass up an opportunity to degrad the man every chance he got for the record the trial. I mean he had Apollo's devotion and love but decided to give that up for a lifeless music career. If he had the choice of Apollo or music he'd give you music everytime. Though he knew Apollo would never ask him to do that. I mean but really Apollo is just- I mean look at him! He's perfect!

Athena was caught off guard with the flurry of emotions coming from Klavier as every color flashed on her mood matrix.

The case end with a "not guilty" as it was discovered that it was the manager who killed by the girlfriend because Alto was sleeping with him and the girlfriend being just another songwriter used to cover up his lack of talent was going to become another Apollo situation where Alto never really let's them go. Alto still tried to get Apollo back regardless how how long it had been and was glued to that stupid notebook. The manager was helplessly in love with Alto and wouldn't let anyone else have him.

Outside of court Alto tried to catch up to Apollo as he left with his co-workers (family) only for Klavier to cut in front

"Herr forehead, I hope you haven't forgotten about tonight." Klavier smiled broadly was Alto chocked on his words.

"Tonight?" Apollo asked puzzled

"Yes, remember?" Klavier winked and pointed to Alto. "We have reservations."

Apollo's face lit up with recognition as he nodded "oh, right tonight. We should get going now. Or...we'll be late." Apollo practicly dragged Klavier off by the arm as he felt the glares of his friends prick his skin as they were aimed at Alto.

They needed to move fast but Alto better be faster.

#klapollo #ace attorney #klavier gavin #klavier x apollo #aa klavier #aa apollo #apollo justice

[garbage-eater144]

THE WARFSTACE AUTOMATED INTERVIEW CAPTIONS

i was chattin in the discord and some people said it was tough to understand some bits, obviouslt this is made by a fan (me) so it might have a couple errors here and there but ive checked through it quite a few times and it seems about as right as i can get it.

so !!SPOILERS AHEAD!! also @markiplier feel free to correct me if you see this thank u <3 The warfstache automated interview

Starting video captions

[Wilford] Well, that’s terrifying… one moment!

{mechanical whirring}

[Wilford] (frightened sound) marginally better… er worse… better? Worse. It’s much worse.

{mechanical whirring}

[Wilford] Ah! there we are. Welcome, pretend I remembered your name here, this is a pre-recorded message anyway, I would NOT want to be in the same building as that thing I tell you me. Anyway, thank you whoever you are for agreeing to test out the Warfstache automated interview automaton, or {yelling} WAIA for short. Let’s start off with some quick calibration. All you need to do is sit back, relax and listen for some numbers. Okay? Here we go.

[WAIA]- (phone dialing, dialup tone, windows error sound)

[WAIA]- (scary mechanical garbled noises, followed by a ding and celebratory trumpets.)

[wilford]- now what did you hear? Numbers? Good numbers. Keep in mind I have no idea what youre going to say due to the fact that, as I said before, this message is pre-recorded. But if you did hear something, now would be the time to speak up.

[wilford]- don’t be shy, I’m sure nothing bad will happen. I don’t know what you’re going to say but if it does happen it will happen and if it doesn’t happen it wont happen. Thats how deterministic reality works.

I Think I Heard Numbers!

[wilford] Thats great! Or bad, not really sure what you said, but I choose to remain positive and assume that you are still alive. which means our automated friend here is operating well within acceptable murder parameters. We’re one step closer to mass production! THE WORLD DEMANDS MORE INTERVIEWS! And I cant be everywhere at once all the time, only some of the time! Even you might land an interview some day! Maybe, probably not, depends on how these next few minutes go. On to the next test! Word association! The fundamental basis of any good interview is getting the goods out of those stubborn interview-ees. The WAIA will say a word and you just say back the first thing that pops into your little head! Simple! Right? probably. Good luck!

{mechanical whirring}

[WAIA]- initializing word association training protocol round 1

{scary mechanincal noises} [WAIA]- Please respond. [WAIA] Sorry, I didnt get that. Round 2. {yet more scary mechanical noise}

[WAIA]- please respond.

[WAIA]- response unclear, increasing aggression

{clicking and mechanical sounds}

[WAIA]- round 3. {increasingly threatening mechanical noise} [WAIA]- Please respond.

[WAIA]-5 [WAIA]-4 [WAIA]-3 [WAIA]-2

Sounded like nightmare garbage to me…

[WAIA]- {mechanical ah?} {clicking}

[Wilford]- oh I forgot to mention, please do not say the word nightmare, or uh garbage, or nightmare garbage, or any combination of those words, the WAIA is just a little bit sensitive Yknow, a little touchy feely. Well not really touchy feely.. we-well actually REALLY touchy feely depending on your definition of touch and feely. Its really gonna-

[WAIA]- {jumpscare sounds} [WAIA] I. tell. you. me.

But you didn’t say anything…

[WAIA]- 1

[WAIA]-response unclear. Increasing aggression.

{ding sound effect} [WAIA]- {jumpscare noise}

[WAIA]- it. was. an. accident.

Uh… potato salad?

[WAIA]- 1

[WAIA]- response accepted

{ding followed by triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- word association raining protocol compl-{mechanical freakout eeeeeete}

[Wilford]- most dearest next of kin, I regret to inform you, that your dearly beloved and/or most despised has regrettably but not unexpectedly become recently deceased in the line of duty. Be confident in the knowledge that their demise was just as likely to be quick and painless as it was slow and agonizing. Please do not respond to this voicemail as the number has already been disconnected. {clears throat} alright that should do it for the… death scenario, now onto ah, er, uh, the survivors {mumbling}. Wow! Potato salad. A real thinker, you. But the test has been passed with flying colors and you’re still alive! And speaking of flying colors, our next test is about something called, uh… synthetic linguistics? That sounds made up. but the point is you cant have a good interview is the WAIA isn’t able to conjure up the right words in the right situations. So our friend is going to fire off some random words and you just try to spot anything that doesn’t make any sense. Alright? Although, pretty much everything isn’t going to make sense because its all random words….. errrr I BELIEVE IN YOU!!! {mechanical sounds}

[WAIA]- initializing speech training protocol round 1.

[WAIA]- yes. no. maybe. left. right. Up. down. D o w n. B a s e m e n t.

{windows error tone} [WAIA]- Rewrite Detected {tape rewinding sound}

[WAIA]- who. Where. what. Am. i.

{windows error tone}

{tape rewinding sound}

[WAIA]- green. blue. Yellow. pink. Red.

{scary mechanical noise}

[WAIA]- I saw you die

[WAIA]-{error, but garbled and mechanical}

[WAIA]- {with a different voice} potato salad

[WAIA]- speech training protocol complete

{mechanical noises}

[Wilford]- so how’d it go?? Did you hear anything weird? Dont be shy, or do, or are- are you alive? Are they alive?

[wilford]- I didnt kill them! I dont know if theyre dead! im just asking!!! Cant a man ask if someones alive or dead?!?! {frustrated ugh}

Yeah, I’m dead.

[Wilford]- hellooooo are you alive down there? Give me a sign… through the multiverse!!! Ah why am I even bothering, but how can I tell if you’re dead… hmmm ah…. I’ll flip a coin! I’ll flip a coin..

{coin flip sounds} [Wilford]- ah! Its heads I didn’t call it in the air… what’s heads mean.. ahhh uhhh heads is dead? [WAIA]-{jumscare noises}

[WAIA]- theres. still. time.

He said… potato salad?

[Wilford]- huh, potato salad again. That’s weird, it must’ve really stuck in his head when you first said that, I’m guessing. I don’t know what you said before because as I said, this is {sing-songy} pre- recorded! [WAIA] {mechanical aaaa}

[wilford] er, well I think thats all the calibration that needs to be done… for now anyway. All systems are likely nominal at this point unless im speaking to a pile of quivering meat thats been robotically smooshed into the floor… either way we’re gonna take this bad boy for a spin with a full on interview! A mock interview mind you, don’t get too excited, it’s not real. But theres no reason to wait around for the WAIA to get bored so let’s keep it nice and limber while you sit back and get ready for the interview of your life! And maybe the last one too. Have fun!!

{mechanical clicking and whirring}

{newsroom music} [WAIA]- good evening ladies and gentle men and all other considerations of being. My name is wilford warfstache and my guest tonight is {spooky robot sound} we have a great show for you tonight. first question: how many people have you killed? [WAIA]- good answer! Second question:

{robot sounds}

[WAIA]- a man goes to a party. This man met an old friend. There, two friends shared some wine. The two friends played a game. The most dangerous game. I didn’t know the gun was loaded. I didn’t know. Was it my fault?

YES

[WAIA]- ah, sorry for everything that I’ve done. I don’t remember who I was, I wish I did. But, I am sorry.

[WAIA]- potato salad

{triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- great answer! That was a titiliting interview for sure but we are out of time. Thank you for joining me tonight. Say ing good bye

[wilford]- oh the emotions! The passion! The fuuury. He’s just like me! My sweet baby boy! Well he should be anyway, hes a perfect scan of my noggin, so he better be a chip off the ol block. Hey you! Oh-ho What a supporting role!! Fantastic I guess. So much that you’re alive, but I am grateful whether you’ve been torn to shreds or are merely drowning in your own tears! Magnificent! And now that testing is done we can finally bring this monstrosity to the main stage! Im sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the WAIA soon. Very very soon. Now get out~ and I’m billing you for any blood you got on my robot! Have a nice day! Ta-ta.

{mechanical clicking}

NO

[WAIA]- you can’t change the past, you can tell all the stories you want to tell, it wont change what happened. You cant re-light the past. if you live in fantasy forever, you’ll lose yourself in the story.

[WAIA]- potato salad

{triumphant trumpets}

[WAIA]- great answer! That was a titiliting interview for sure but we are out of time. Thank you for joining me tonight. Say ing good bye

[wilford]- oh the emotions! The passion! The fuuury. He’s just like me! My sweet baby boy! Well he should be anyway, hes a perfect scan of my noggin, so he better be a chip off the ol block. Hey you! Oh-ho What a supporting role!! Fantastic, I guess. So much that you’re alive, but I am grateful whether you’ve been torn to shreds or are merely drowning in your own tears! Magnificent! And now that testing is done we can finally bring this monstrosity to the main stage! Im sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of the WAIA soon. Very very soon. Now get out~ and I’m billing you for any blood you got on my robot! Have a nice day! Ta-ta.

{mechanical clicking}

#markiplier #markiplier egos #a heist with markiplier #wkm wilford #who killed markiplier #waia spoilers #waia #wilford motherloving warfstache #markiplier lore #captions #sorry if there are any mistakes here everybody like i said i am just some guy