#and now i have one friend i see regularly

[doberbutts]

this whole debate regarding transmasculinity is so weird for me because it's like, i see the argument that trans men benefit from transmisogyny, and i just... don't think that's true? like, a lot of these discussions seem to take phrases from discussions about white privelege and replace "white" with "tme", which just doesn't really make sense. perhaps i'm looking at things wrong, but i'm unsure how trans men would benefit at all from transmisogyny. are there transmisogynistic trans guys who throw trans women under the bus? yes, just like there are binary trans people that throw non-binary and gnc trans people under the bus. every anti-trans law and ruling hurts all trans people. the uk supreme court ruling has been used as an example of trans men not being effected by anti-trans policy, but that ruling did not say trans men were allowed into women's spaces. it said trans men aren't allowed in men's or women's spaces. that doesn't mean that trans men are worse off from that ruling than trans women, but especially with how much "tme privilege" is compared to white privilege, i feel like people really play up the differences between trans men and trans women, when in reality i think we have a lot more in common regarding our life experiences than we do differences.

So this is sort of a multi-faceted thing here.

I don't necessarily have a problem with the understanding that if all else was exactly the same about me except I was a trans woman (or even a cis woman!) instead of a trans man, that my life would probably be harder and I would face challenges that I simply do not face in my day to day life. I think that is objectively true. Just as I think it is objectively true that I could live the exact life I currently live right now as a woman- I would just have to date slightly different people. I've even offered this opinion unprompted in conversation about gender multiple times.

I just think that this is a hypothetical, and that the chances of me running into someone with literally the exact same life as me with a single gender difference is fairly low, because there are a near infinite amount of combinations of various intersections and identities and a significantly smaller number of people who live in my geographic area. There are some who get close- like my Canadian friend- but she also has a number of differences which do dramatically impact the way she lives her life vs the way I live mine.

Which at that point makes the "who is more oppressed" point moot- because the other person's life may differ so significantly from mine and their point of view may consider something worse than my point of view. For instance, the trans woman who mentored me in college felt that being murdered is worse than being raped. I have the opposite opinion, that being raped is worse than being murdered. Unsurprisingly, the violence that affects our respective demographics is directly reflected in our feared "worst outcomes". It's a matter of perspective, and there isn't one right answer to two horrific acts of violence regularly enacted upon the transgender community as a whole.

She had the opinion that we both had the right to use the word transmisogyny to discuss the differences and similarities of how we were treated from "both sides" of the gender equation. To this day I still think her framework made more sense than a significant amount of what I see online. But people have called me an MRA for *checks notes* listening to the trans woman who taught me most of my basic queer politics.

I don't think that what trans men vs trans women experience as a demographic are that different. I think what differences do exist are largely the same hate coming from the same place, wearing a different face depending on who it's directed towards and what assumption that person has made about their victim.

And I think a lot of people are caught up on a "finished product" as the mental pictures of their theory and not the in-progress or still-closeted portions of their own communities. Sure, a guy like me who passes for cis in 99% of situations nets a lot of situational male privilege. But does the teenage trans guy with a Disney Princess name who can't breathe a word to any of his friends and desperately wants to kill himself while his parents deny him access to gender-affirming care and force him to wear push up bras and short skirts and heels and make up? Because that was me too, and I'd love to know what male privilege I experienced as I was pinned to the ground while they put makeup on me, while I was flashed by strangers on the bus, while I was sexually assaulted by a classmate.

There is this disconnect as though anything we've experienced prior to coming out no longer exists, and as though simply coming out fixes the entire situation and the male privilege fairy comes down from the clouds to deliver our he/him pronouns herself. Sorry, but I was on the receiving end of a whole lot of misogyny and misogynoir until suddenly I wasn't because I looked too much like a man for people to continue to treat me like a woman. I've known I'm transgender since I was 13. That day didn't hit until I was 30.

Do trans men have the ability to lean into transmisogyny in order to benefit from it? Sure. But so does Caitlyn Jenner on a fairly regular basis, so I don't think you have to necessarily not be a trans woman in order to do so. Kanye West has benefited quite highly from his own antiblackness, despite being modern white supremacy dancing monkey. Cis women on the Supreme Court voted against abortion rights. Musk is an immigrant and Trump is a felon and they both are gleefully enacting policies to hurt immigrants and felons. Being *able* to wield oppressive structures to hurt others you see as below you does not require you to be in a different demographic than those people. It just requires you to have a slightly different experience as a result of a different intersection.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XIX: Could You Blame Me?

masterlist | playlist | pin | prev. | read on ao3 | read bee's diary

songs for this chapter: nineteen tegan and sara (covered by hayley williams), nineteen by movements, your graduation by modern baseball, wishing (you) well by born without bones

chapter tags: ANGST GO CRAZY AHHH, hurt/no comfort (yet), ex best friends, rage!!!!, described symptoms of depression (not eating, over sleeping, isolation, crying, more anger), flashback/time jumps, barely proofread sorryyyyy. please let me know if i missed anything! | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | REMINDER: THIS FIC IS RATED EXPLICIT. 18+ mdni.

a/n: uhhhh here u go here’s some lore for u! enjoy. this chapter was so difficult to write bc i had the ideas but i had to make it Make Sense and that is way harder than it sounds. back to regularly scheduled storytelling shortly! thanks for reading! 

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, my tumblr and ao3 are the only account that feature and contain this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere

taglist (open!): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r @justalotoffanfiction @bl0ssomanddie @eddiesgirl1944 @longlivedelusion @aliensfeltmyjoy

–

Five Years Ago

The August sun beats down on the world outside, but you’re stuck within your own rain cloud, blankets pulled over your head despite the heat. You haven’t moved since you got home yesterday. Obviously, Chris had lost his trial, after two weeks of back and forth, they had come to the decision. He would have lost anyway, you know that, but remembering the series of events makes your blood boil.

Eddie had taken the stand, given a recount of the day’s events in excruciating detail. You had watched in horror as he spoke, stoic as he was cross examined, even claiming Chris had convinced him to participate. Eddie, who you had considered your best friend until about a year ago, when he’d decided your older brother was more the type of person he wanted to be around.

“Bee, honey? You want some breakfast?” Your mother has cracked open your bedroom door, poking her head in as if approaching a wounded animal. 

“No.” Your response is muffled by your pillows, but you hear her sigh, so you know she’d heard you. 

“Okay. Try to eat something soon, though. Please.” You know it’s not fair, shutting her out like this. Her pain is probably one million times worse, watching her son be sent away as her daughter drifts in and out of consciousness with the grief. You can only imagine her inner monologue these last few weeks, trying to keep it together for your sake while you break down. But it’s not enough for you to peel the sheets back and leave the bed. Not yet.

Robin and Steve have each called you several times since yesterday, causing you to turn your phone off entirely. You know everyone’s talking about it, considering this trial is the biggest thing to happen in Hawkins since the lab explosion when your parents were in high school, and you can’t bear to scroll your feeds right now. Your head hurts from the crying, and your bed sheets are soaked through with your tears. Maybe it’s not fair wallowing like this, but it doesn’t feel right to continue like nothing’s wrong. 

The bigger pain, though, comes from the fact that Eddie hasn’t called at all. It’s been a year, and he hasn’t let himself be alone in the same room as you, let alone reply to your texts. It’s like you’ve had a limb ripped off, and you’re just expected to carry on like nothing’s changed. 

–

It’s a full week before you can even leave your house, and it still hurts like hell. You clock the looks from your neighbors, the ones of pity and disgust, like somehow you’d had a hand in your brother’s bad decisions. Mothers shield their kids as you walk by, just trying to order your coffee without bursting into tears because the cashier’s name is Chris. Once he’s handed you your coffee. You take a seat by the window, cracking open the book you’d been trying to read for months now without much luck.

“Hey, kiddo.” The voice is gruff, gravelly with age. You’ve only been sitting here a few minutes, your hopes of being approached shattered when you realize he’s talking to you.

“Chief Hopper?” You look up at the aging man, brown hair sprinkled with gray streaks. 

“Ah, just call me Jim. Haven’t been chief in a long time. May I?” He points to the seat opposite you, and you nod, unsure of how to tell him you’d rather be alone. “I’m sorry about your brother, Bee. I wish I had been there.” 

“It’s alright.” You’re not sure what else to say.

“No, it’s not. We both know they’d been after Chris since he was a kid. Eddie, too.” He’s hunched over the small table, like he’s afraid of being overheard. 

“Look, Ch- Jim. I don’t really wanna talk about what could have been done about my brother going to jail. I have spent the last year wondering if I could have stopped it, or if anyone else could have. It doesn’t solve anything.” You don’t mean to sound so harsh, but you’re tired of having the whole town shoving their noses where they don’t belong.

“Understood. If you or your mom need anything, though, feel free to call me. Deal?”

You sigh. “Sure, okay.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but his phone starts ringing in his chest pocket. “Sorry, I gotta take this real quick.” He gets up from his seat and walks out of the cafe, once again leaving you alone to dwell on all the what-ifs. Unfortunately, Hopper takes his call directly on the other side of the massive window you’re sitting next to, and you can hear every word on his side of the conversation.

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell you. You made the choice. There’s only so much I can do to keep you both out of a cell. He didn’t wanna listen, you did. That’s the difference.”

He paces as whoever’s on the other line replies, his face worn and tired. 

“No, I don’t think it was what you said. They’d made their case already, and it wasn’t really a chance of whether he was going or not, but how long he’d go for.” More pacing. 

“Yeah, I talked to her. She’s alright, considering. Definitely pissed off, and I don’t blame her.”

You decide, before that conversation is over, to get up and leave. You can figure out who he’s talking to, what he’s talking about, rather easily. However, you have no desire to wait around and hear if you’re right, so you shove yourself from the seat and leave the cafe without letting Hopper know.

–

You get in your car and drive. You have no destination in mind, no plans of where to escape to or how long you’ll be out, so you just tell your mother you’re going to Robin’s for the night.

“Okay, sweetie. Call me if you need anything?”

“Yup.” You sling your bag over your shoulder and slam the door behind you. Once you’re in your car, down the street, and eventually out of Hawkins, you turn your music as loud as it will go, and scream until your throat is raw. Lyrics you’d never want to relate to now feeling like you’d written them yourself, and the breeze is warm on your tear stained face. After what must have been hours weaving through the lanes as you shrieked up and down the interstate, you still end up where you always do. Taking the road back through town and into the woods, concrete turns to unpaved gravel the deeper in you get.

Lover’s Lake is always crowded in the summer, but everyone must be home by now. It’s getting dark, and the mosquitos are coming out in swarms. As you exit your car, you hear the hum of crickets and cicadas, but there’s something else, an unexpected tune being played nearby. It’s definitely not playing from a speaker, the music’s too clear; the strum of an acoustic guitar. Something deep inside your chest tells you exactly what you’re going to find if you follow it.

Obviously, you follow it anyway, passing the lake down a footpath made from years of being stomped on. Eventually you turn a corner, finding the warm glow that matches the sound of the guitar. Your steps come to a halt as you continue listening, waiting for the voice to accompany the strings. You already know what it will sound like, how the words will leave his mouth and go straight to your brain, leaving no room for a logical thought beyond Holy shit.

“Too old to learn new tricks I need a new fix

I need a stimulus, I need a paycheck

And a brand new deck and some new kicks,”

You slide down the tree you’ve hidden behind, careful not to make a sound even as the bark scratches your back through your thin t-shirt. You hadn’t heard Eddie sing in a year, possibly even longer at this point. Corroded Coffin announced a hiatus shortly after Chris’s arrest, and you hadn’t listened to any of their music since, let alone spoken to Eddie at all. His voice had disappeared from your life, along with the rest of him. Once you’d graduated, it was like he had forgotten about you. He’d barely called, and every time he had been to your house or the bar was to see Chris, and he never stayed to chat. 

Now, listening to him sing, you lose your composure, stifling the sobs with your fist, tears you somehow still have to shed streaming down your cheeks. You have to leave. Now. After a few more agonizing seconds while you gather your breath, you finally stand up and prepare to bolt back from where you came, but you’re sabotaged by a stray branch in your path, cracking as you step directly on it. The strumming stops, and you’re frozen where you stand as you wait to be caught spying.

“Hello?” Eddie calls out into the settling darkness, and you cringe. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.” His voice cracks, like he’s been crying too, and it makes you want to turn around, walk right up to him like you could have a year ago, and wrap yourself around him. You could cry together, then figure out what to do. You could get your best friend back.

But that is not your choice to make; he’s the one that left you alone. He made that decision for both of you, and you can’t be the one to fix that, especially now, so you take another step towards the path without answering him. He doesn’t start playing again, and the glowing of the fire disappears, sizzling as Eddie puts it out. Before you even bother to check if he’s following you, you’re sprinting back to your car. You hadn’t noticed it coming in– you’d been too frazzled to even lock your car–  but Eddie’s van is parked directly on the other side of the dirt lot. You can’t help slapping your hand to your forehead as you mumble, “So fuckin’ stupid!” yanking your driver’s side door open and slamming it behind you. 

You’d left your phone in your car on purpose, knowing eventually Robin, Steve, and your mom would catch on that you’re not with any of them. Of course, you’d been right. 

bobbins: missed call (27) stevie: missed call (26) mama: missed call (34) bobbins: i swear to god im gonna call jim stevie: bee, please pick up. We’re all worried sick mama: baby, please give me a call back…. I cant lose both my babies…!!

You groan, tapping the screen to call your mom back as you start your car. 

“Bee?!” She shouts when she picks up, barely letting it ring.

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.”

“Honey, I was worried sick! Robin came over to check on you, she said you never had plans today. We called everyone we know trying to find you!”

“Mom, relax. I went for a drive. I’m at Lover’s Lake right now, I can be home in half an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call us back?”

You sigh. “Turned my phone off, wanted to be alone.”

You can hear your mother mirror your own sadness, and it stings. “Okay, honey. I understand. Just, please don’t scare us like that again, okay? Usually I don’t need to worry about you so much, but we’re all kinda…” She trails off.

“I know. I’m sorry, I should have told you the truth. I didn’t really know where I was going ‘til I got there.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Get home safe.”

“Love you, Mama.”

“Love you.”

–

Steve’s car is parked on the street in front of your house when you pull into the driveway. The sun is gone, along with any semblance of energy you’d had today. Seeing your home, and knowing Chris won’t be behind its front door, is not something you see yourself getting used to any time soon.

You cross the threshold into the front room, taking off your shoes, now caked in the dirt of your earlier travels. 

“Bee? That you?” Robin’s here, too. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Your words come out shaky, barely audible if Robin hadn’t already been five feet away. 

“Hi, Beebs.” She wraps herself around you, and you let yourself melt into the hug. Another pair of arms wraps around you from behind, and you settle into the weight of your best friends. 

“I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The apology is muffled by Robin’s shoulder, but you feel them tighten around you, showing they’d heard you.

–

Steve’s on the phone in your kitchen the next morning. You stop before entering, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Yeah, she’s home. Said she was in the woods or something. No, she’s fine. Why?” You can hear the anxiety buzzing through the line, but you can’t make out who it belongs to. “Look, you could have–” He’s cut off. “Oh, whatever, dude.” And with that, He’s hanging up, slamming his cell on the counter.

“Who was that?” You ask, like you’ve only just arrived downstairs.

“What? No one. Dustin.” He gives you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“I don’t have the energy to ask you why you’re lying to me right now.” You shake your head, walking past him to pour yourself a cup of coffee. “Just know, I know you’re lying.”

He nods, like he’s willing to accept it if it means you won’t ask him again. And you don’t. “You didn’t have to sleep here, by the way. I know your bed is much more comfortable than my couch.” 

“Yeah, just didn’t feel like driving Robin home, then back to my house on the other side of town.”

You nod. “Right, yeah. You didn’t have–”

“Bee, I don’t have to do anything. I know! You’ve proven that for the past week and a half when you disappeared from our lives!” 

“I did not! Forgive me for missing my brother, how dare I grieve in a way that doesn’t suit you!” You don’t mean it, but it’s too late to take it back.

“You’re not grieving, Bee. You’re disappearing. You look awful, I know for a fact you’ve barely eaten since you got the trial date. You haven’t been out with us in months, even before we’d known for sure what was going to happen.” His words click together suddenly, and you realize exactly what he’s saying. You’d done what Eddie had to you. You’d ghosted your friends without an explanation, and hurt them in a way you’d never meant to. 

“Shit, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

His face softens as he examines yours. “No, no. I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.”

“No,” You sniffle, “That was more than fair. You’re right, I’ve been a shitty friend. There’s no excuse.” You leave your spot across the kitchen, approaching Steve with your arms open. He returns the hug, wrapping his own arms around your shoulders as yours find his waist. 

“Are we hugging again?” You hear Robin’s bare feet patter across your kitchen floor, then her weight on yours as she joins the huddle. 

–

Present Day

Your head’s fuzzy and throbbing when you wake up. The apartment is relatively tidy, and you thank god you’d been able to do it while drunk instead of hungover. You realize you’d somehow made it to Steve’s bed, but Steve is nowhere to be found; the other side of the bed is instead occupied by a head of messy curls cascading down pale, inked shoulders. Panicked, you recall the events of last night. Unable to, you peek under the covers. Eddie’s wearing pants, and you’re fully dressed. You don’t feel any different, and you’re sure you would if you’d–

“You awake?” He interrupts your thoughts before they can get too dirty.

“Yeah, just woke up. Why are you in here?”

“Because I had to carry you. Again.”

“Fuck!” You groan, and wince at the sound of your own voice. “What did I do?”

He chuckles, turning to face you. “Honestly? Nothing. Was kinda cute, actually.”

“Edward Munson if you don’t tell me what happened right this second I’ll–,”

–”

“You’ll what? Bite me?”

“Wh– No? Why would I do that?”

“He yanks his free arm from under the comforter. “Because you did already.” And sure enough, there are teeth marks etched into the flesh of his forearm. “I was super drunk, though, I barely felt it.”

“Why the fuck did I bite you?”

“I asked you to.”

“Now I’m confused.”

“Listen, I was not in the mind to take care of you last night. Clearly, we were fucking around, because,” He nods to your shoulder, “It looks like I got you back.” 

Confused, you bring your opposite hand to your shoulder, and feel the bumps and ridges of what must be Eddie’s own teeth. “What the fuck?” You find yourself asking this question a lot lately. 

Eddie bursts out laughing, and you can’t help but join him. It’s absolutely absurd, but it makes sense to you anyway. You’d both always been pretty hands on with each other before, well, everything, and you’d both consumed an insane amount of alcohol last night. It only tracks that you’d slip back into old habits. 

“Are we gonna have to explain this to them?” You jerk your thumb at the door.

“God, I really fuckin’ hope not.” He snickers, eyes drifting from your face to your shoulder. “Kinda wish I remembered doin’ it, though.” He says it mostly to himself, like he’s trying to remember what you’d tasted like. You find yourself wondering the same thing, if he’d made a noise as you’d sunken your teeth in, if he’d thrown his head back in pain or something else. You try to remember what it had felt like, but everything’s too far away.

He clears his throat, and you snap your eyes back to his face. “Anyway, breakfast?”

You nod, feeling the warmth in your face start to subside. 

“Ahem.” Eddie clears his throat as the two of you step into the kitchen. “Whatcha whisperin’ about?” Steve and Robin had clearly been in the middle of gossiping at the kitchen counter as you and Eddie approach, each snatching a breakfast sandwich wrapped in foil that Steve had already made the trip for.

“Secrets don’t make friends, y’know!” You tease, sliding onto the stool next to Robin. Eddie takes the one opposite you, unwrapping his own sandwich. 

“Uh,” Steve looks to Robin for help, but she only shakes her head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I’ll get it out of her later.” You snicker, taking a bite of your greasy sausage-egg-and-cheese. Turns out, it’s exactly what you needed to remember the events of last night, the alcohol being absorbed by the food entering your stomach.

–

Last Night

You stumble around, picking up stray bottles and cans as the music continues thudding through surround sound speakers, accompanied by someone’s drunken vocals. Eddie follows with a garbage bag, giggling as you try to collect more recyclables in your already full arms.

“Quit laughin’ and help me!” You whine, dropping a Miller Lite can on the floor. 

You go to pick it up, but Eddie’s just as quick, fingers brushing yours as he grips the can in his fist. “You just told me to help. Now let me.” For being drunk, he’s still awfully put together. Unfortunately, you cannot relate, a mess of giggles and buzzing skin as Eddie looks at you with his stupid, crooked smile. 

“Stop it.” The command comes out weak, shy, and you barely recognize yourself. 

“Stop what?”

“I don’t know. Bein’ cute. Given’ me cute aggression.”

“Cute aggression?” He repeats, shaking his head. “Don’t think I know that one.”

“It’s like, y’know when you see a really cute baby? Or a puppy, or Ethel! Your cat! And you just wanna, like, eat it?”

“Bee, sweetheart, I think that’s just you.”

“No, you know what I’m talking about.” 

“So, you wanna eat me? Right now?” He smirks, like he’s got you stumped.

But you only shrug. “Maybe.” His eyes widen, and you cackle. “Maybe not eat eat. But I definitely wanna bite you.”

“Okay… Go ahead.”

You raise your eyebrows at his challenge. “Excuse me?”

“You can bite me. Here,” He holds out his arm. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I get to bite you back.”

Normally, you’d stop it here. You’d laugh the whole thing off, and change the subject. Normally, you’re not six drinks deep at the best party of the year, though. “Okay.”

“Seriously?”

You nod. “Why not?” And before he can retract the offer, you lean forward and sink your teeth directly into the flesh of his forearm. Not too hard, not for too long, but just enough to satisfy this weird, drunken urge to take a bite of your estranged friend. He winces, but more so in shock than in pain, breathing heavily through his nose. 

You pull back, smacking your lips together playfully. “Little salty.”

He snorts. “Whatever, your turn.” He reaches for your arm, but you stop him. “Wait.”

“You can’t chicken out now!” He accuses.

“First of all, I could if I really wanted to. But I’m not. Just… Not the arm.”

“Okay… Then where?”

You tug the fabric of your dress off your shoulder and tap the top. “Here. I’ll be able to hide it better.” Really, you just want him to bite your neck, but this is as close as you’ll get. 

“Um, right. Okay.” Suddenly, he’s less cocky, less confident as he approaches you. You toss your head to the side, giving him the room to place his head. You can feel his breath, hot on your skin before finally sinking his teeth into your skin. The noise that slips from your throat is embarrassing, and completely out of your control: a breathy moan poorly disguised with a yelp of falsified pain. He doesn’t fall for it, though, snickering as you exhale heavily, the sharpness of his teeth sending a fire through your veins the alcohol can’t stave off. 

After what you’d describe as an eternity, you’re free from his mouth, the only reminder being a dull throbbing in your shoulder.

“Well?” Your voice squeaks as you ask the question, but Eddie has the grace not to point it out.

“Sweet as I imagined.” He winks, picking up the trash bag he must have dropped. Your knees wobble as he makes his way past you, shoulder brushing your newly marked one as he collects the rest of the trash from the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ.” You mumble, hands sliding down your face, willing the blush to fade. 

–

Present Day:

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie’s gone home, and you’re pacing the living room floor as Robin and Steve exchange knowing, conniving smiles. “And you both watched the whole thing? Without stopping me?!” 

Robin had just finished filling in your black spots, and you feel like you’re about to throw up. 

“Well, I mean, what was I supposed to do?”

“Literally anything!” It’s not her fault, but who else are you supposed to rely on in your drunken times of need? “You could’ve interrupted, woulda saved me an immense amount of embarrassment right now.” 

She snickers, and you have to fight the urge to glare at her. “Okay, next time I’ll make sure to intervene.” “There better not be a fucking next time!” You exclaim, borderline hysterical. “He’s gonna think he has a chance with me or something.”

“Right… and that’s bad?”

This time, you do glare at her. “Yes, it’s bad. Very bad.”

“Of course. Obviously.” Robin rolls her eyes at you before returning her attention to the television, leaving you alone to spiral.

[revenantghost]

Man! I feel bad about being not as present for bookclub as I was last year, and also about how behind on messaging/responding to peeps between migraines and health stuff I am, but the community here and support and kindness has been amazing even as I feel like I'm letting everyone down, and I've just gotta say:

Thank you <3

[suddencolds]

// personal

how strange it is to observe yourself changing

[deadlittledogs]

my dad telling me he regrets selling our country home like I don’t spend every night crying into my pillow because I miss that house so much lol

[star--anon]

Gally hides a lot of his panic attacks and nightmares that he got after he went through the Changing in a desperate attempt to be liked again in the Glade

He was kind of universally hated in the books, apparently becoming extremely unlikeable after he got Stung

which is honestly so sad. What he saw drove him slightly insane and he couldn’t handle it and shut down.

[bredforloyalty]

honestly um ,. one part of me understands why those posts were made but, are these poser incest enthusiasts in the room with us now

[ephemeral-winter]

rereading what I have always maintained is miss rooney’s worst novel (beautiful world where are you) for the first time since it came out, god, almost four years ago, were we ever so young, and anyway I’ve decided that it’s actually heart-wrenchingly good? because as always when I don’t like a book on first read it’s because I wasn’t old enough to understand it back then

[pickaropoprocks]

Day 41!! Mafukasa Yapper × Listener realness

[astral-catastrophe]

I don’t cry often but dear god. I’m crying over her.

[mutatedfish]

yknow at the shelter they never warn you that your mental health will become completely dependent on your new cat

[gxlden-angels]

Hello! I apologize if this is a nosy question, but what is the silly feelings wheel app you were talking about in a previous post? My therapist and I have been working on identifying feelings but I still very much rely on a list of feeling words to have any idea what I’m feeling, so it could be a helpful resource. No worries if you don’t want to share, just thought I would ask :)

It's called How We Feel! I'm not sure if it's available on all devices yet, but it's on ios and the google play store for sure.

I've been using it for about a year. It's more of a chart than a wheel but people usually recognize the wheel better so that's what I call it. When you first start it has a 10-part tutorial about emotional acceptance and regulation, then it has suggestions for each category of emotion. You can access both at any time tho after those first 10 days.

It has a share option so you can have friends, which has been great for me cause it prompts me to check on friends and them to do the same for me. It allows you to just respond with a little emoji in like a "I'm here for you" little notification to your friend, or you can reach out to your friend on your own. Its really helped me cause I'm bad at reaching out when I need support so to me and I'm bad about taking on other's problems even when I can't handle it so being able to send a little emoji instead to make sure my friends know I'm there if they need me and them doing the same has been great

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

it’s weird how many compliments I get now for just. existing. and wearing pretty clothes. it’s nuts how differently people treat me based on what I wear. smth smth commentary on humanity whatever I’m just glad other ppl also like my skirts.

[lordsardine]

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I like franziska von karma a normal amount