#and with everything I do I’m learning more and it is feeding my brain

[banana-pancake5]

ANIMATION IS SO FUN HELP

LIKE WHEN IT FINALLY SMOOTHES OUT AND LOOKS GOOD IT MAKES ME SO EXCITED USHDHDSISCNIDSCNISDCNCD I CANT WAIT TO MOVE PAST THE SKETCH

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

  You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort. 

  Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door. 

  “Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

 1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it. 

  Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

  The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you. 

  Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

  “Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

  He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

  “Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

  “So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

  The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

  Interesting.

  “No brains?”

  Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

  He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.” 

  Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

  Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

  Why you? What did he want with you?

  You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

  “What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

  He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

  Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you. 

  It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

  Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

  “That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

  He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans. 

  While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals. 

  You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive. 

  “UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

  You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm. 

  With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

  “Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

  You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering. 

  Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

  “So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

  He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up. 

  Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

  Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

  Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

  You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

  “Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

  The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

  And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

  “Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

  God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

  Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

  You’d made him cry.

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

  You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

  Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

  You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate. 

  “MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

  You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

  Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

  She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

  You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

  You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

  Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

  Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall. 

  You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

  “There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

  You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

  This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

  He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

  “SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

  You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

  The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

  Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

  “Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers. 

  “Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

  You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

  You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

  “You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you. 

  You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

  “You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

  “Uunngh.”

  You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

  “That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

  You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

  “UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

  “What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

  He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

  “They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

  Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

  You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

  He just blinked, almost owlishly. 

  Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

  “The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

  You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

  Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

  You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

  “Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

  An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact. 

  “Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

  Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

  Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

  “You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

  The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

  You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

  He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

  “You tryna knock me dead, too?”

  When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

  The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

  When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

  If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

  You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

  To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

  Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound. 

  With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

  They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

  “Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

  You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror. 

  “Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

  “Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

  Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound. 

  “Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

  His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

  “I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

  Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

  You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

  Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

  You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

  “WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name. 

  “I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

  Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

  “I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

  He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

  “You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

  “Me?! I didn’t do this!”

  “Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

  “The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

  “Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

  “Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

  “Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

  “Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

  The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

  “I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

  “She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

  “Daddy…”

  “Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!” 

  You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself. 

  “Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward. 

  Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

  ”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

  “She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

  “No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

  You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this. 

  You’d have a loving parent. 

  You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do. 

  Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

  With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

  You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

  It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it. 

  The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life. 

  Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

  When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

  A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

  With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

  Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

  “I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

  “Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

  “We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

  The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

  “Dang—anything else?”

  “Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside. 

  Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

  You were wrong. 

  The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

  For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous. 

  You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

  “Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

  “You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

  Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors. 

  You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

  So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance. 

  He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

  Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

  Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

  Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering. 

  Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

  You found him. 

  Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

  And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

  He understood the sentiment all too well. 

  Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

  When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

  With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead. 

  And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

  I wish I was with you.

  You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

  Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave. 

  Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple. 

  No sign of his uncle.

  It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded. 

  Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct. 

  He knew where to go after.

  Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all. 

  Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him. 

  He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

  Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

  Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

  Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

  Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests. 

  So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be. 

  The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you. 

  He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery. 

  FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

  What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

  All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

  Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze. 

  It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left. 

  Eddie heard a scoff.

  “How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself. 

  Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around. 

  The fuck was she doing in here?

  It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through. 

  Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings. 

  She was invading your privacy.

  If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling. 

  He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

  And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either. 

  Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse. 

  If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

  Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

  Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip. 

  Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

  Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made. 

  Bitch.

  Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

  He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day. 

  See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of.  Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

  He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

  His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

  “Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned. 

  He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

  “Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

  “Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure. 

  “Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

  “I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp. 

  “EXCUSE ME?!” 

  The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her. 

  Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

  He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

  It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

  Served the hag right.

  With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

  Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream. 

  That one was for you.

  Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision. 

  While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did. 

  You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive. 

  Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

  Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

  No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

  Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

  “You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

  You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

  Oh, god. Just play it cool.

  “Just some tampons and some chips.” 

  Leave. Walk out. Save face.

  “No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk. 

  You were going for it. 

  “Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

  “I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve. 

  You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

  “Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

  “I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

  “That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

  “And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

  “I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

  “Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

  Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.” 

  Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

  You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

  Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

  It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

  “You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

  Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

  “And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

  You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off. 

  She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

  How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

  “She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

  All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV. 

  You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life. 

  “Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

  Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed. 

  At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

  With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you. 

  You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

  She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

  It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

  But it was yours.

  When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs. 

  You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

  Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

  “Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

  “Uuungh?”

  You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

  “I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

  Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

  “Unngh.” He grunted in thanks. 

  As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

  Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

  “Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

  You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

  “He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

  You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling. 

  “You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions. 

  “There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

  You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

  Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population. 

  “Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

  Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand. 

  “What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

  Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

  “I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

  “MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

  “Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

  He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

  Laura.

  “SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

  You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

  And for once, she scared you.

  “Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

  Stepmother from hell, indeed.

  “Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured. 

  You took a small step back. She took one forward.

  “I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick. 

  “Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

  Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

  All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

  Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction. 

  “Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

  “Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

  Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

  Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

  “Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life. 

  Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

  You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

  She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

  Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed. 

  “No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

  “It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

  THUNK.

  Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

  You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red. 

  Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

  Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet. 

  You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

  “Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

  Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

  “Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

  When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

  You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

  ”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

  Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs. 

  Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

  You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

  The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it. 

  After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it. 

  “Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you. 

  He shook his head. 

  “Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

  When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

  While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work. 

  Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

  Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head. 

  “Mm-mm.”

  You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

  You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice. 

  He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even. 

  It felt…like you mattered to someone.

  “I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

  Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs. 

  “At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.” 

  He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way. 

  “Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

  Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

  “Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand. 

  “What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb. 

  Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger. 

  “Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you. 

  Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle. 

  A lightning bolt. 

  Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

  An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

  And then it hit you. Lightning.

  “OH.”

  Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

  “But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

  You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

  Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

  Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it. 

  It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

  You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure. 

  You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual. 

  The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

  You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

  He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

  “Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

  Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

  Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

  “Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

  No reaction. 

  “EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

  To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

  Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

  It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

  “Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!” 

  You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad. 

  The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

  You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

  Well, you’d already started. 

  “I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

[wonder-mei]

His greatest achievement (Honkai:Star Rail’s Dr Veritas Ratio)

失眠者苍 on Weibo

Reminder : I do not write accurately to the lore of the world I am writing. I write whenever there’s an idea

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Hey, who gave you those roses?” her friend asked curiously as her eyes focuses on the bouquet of red roses wrapped beautifully with cream and dark brown, and tied in cream bow

“Oh, Veritas gave them to me. Beautiful aren't they?” she takes a sniff and shows the bouquet to her friends “They are fresh picked too” 

Her friends looked at each other with confused expressions. Doctor Veritas Ratio, one of the geniuses of all mankind. Knowledgeable in many academic fields, not only does he have the brain, he also has achieved a lot of achievements since he was young, surpassing every professor that is decades older. Despite his intellect, Ratio is well-known for being very egotistical and arrogant. Not one of his students ever disagrees with his lecturers or confronts the grades he gave. Because he knows he is RIGHT. Even other professors or staff do not want to mess with him. 

But her. She is one of the odds. Ratio never does all of those to her. He is calm and gentle whenever she is around. There were students making a study on this privately as to why she is an exception to his egotistical and arrogant. 

And the conclusion is; he is in love with her. 

But she is oblivious to this fact. 

“Why did Dr Ratio give you roses?” 

“Oh he said his roses are overgrown so he gave me them” 

“Only you?”

“Yeah, he said he does not have more to give to others” 

“Also wrapped perfectly” 

“He just wants to use this wrapper he bought. Don’t want to waste”

Each question regarding Ratio’s gifts she would answer them giving reasons as to why he does that but none of them because he loves her after countless of gifts he gave her. From carving a few sets of her favorite animals, buying her books and so more. 

“Don’t you think he has a reason for giving you gifts?”

“Not at all. We share an office so it’s normal for officemates to give each other gifts,right?”

Her friends didn’t answer. They just stare at her “Well I have to go. My worms need some feeding” 

How could a botanist be paired to share an office with the man of every knowledge in this world? It is fate. Ratio was irritated at first for having an officemate that involves themselves around plants and soil but something about her made him forget his emotions and expectations on her. It all started on that specific day…

“What are you doing?”

“Oh Ratio! You are early today” she greets him with a smile “These are my worms. I’m building a worm farm”

Ratio scowls watching the containers with dirt and few visible worms in the soil “Why are you even doing these dirty projects?”

“Everything! Worms can compose,fertilize and are eco-friendly. Can’t really depend on technology for the compose and chemical for the foods we eat,right? It is time for us to have this old tradition in our daily life” 

Ratio just stood there taking her every word into deep analysis. There are already machines for everything. And they make lives easier. Who wants to do the traditional way when it's easier for that. This intrigues him. She piqued his interest. Since then, Ratio would watch her doing her odds stuff. She used all natural color for paints, learned how to speak to birds and so many odd things he can even comprehend. But, he never intervenes or corrects her ways. Her ways are too unique to stop her from doing so. 

 “Have you seen Ratio?” she asked one of his students when she saw them walking in the same hallway

“Dr Ratio? Nope. He dismissed today class 20 minutes early” 

Strange. Ratio always uses the class time duration strictly. Starts when it starts and ends when it ends. He wasn't in their office,maybe he is in his art studio located not far from the university building. She heads to the art studio still holding the bouquet, catching everyone’s attention for how beautiful the roses are. 

“Veritas?” She calls his name as she enters the building. No answers. The room was cloaked in shadows, the faint glow of twilight seeping through the half-closed window curtain but the sun shunned a tall figure covered in cloth shielding it to cause curiosity to whoever sees this. She was so inquisitive about the mysterious figure behind it,she pulled down the cloth with a swift. 

As the cloth was pulled down, it revealed a beautifully carved sculpture. She stands near to it gazing at every carving trying to make out who is that. Every inch of the figure registered into her mind, every feature is hers. From the hair,eyes,nose,everything even the moles and scars. The person accurately carved her. In this piece, she is wearing a simple one piece dress and a veil. She is sitting on the ground with the texture of grass and soil. There are few birds she recognizes that she studied for communication studies. Next to the sculpture, there’s a note. It says;

She and i has no contrast,

She is the sun and moon,

Whilst i witness her beauty day and night,

From every beauty exist,

I willingly sit to see her only. 

Too mesmerized by the art. She was startled when someone called her name “Veritas…”. They were too close. Her back flushes on his chest heading tilting up staring into his eyes “What is this?”

Ratio stares into her eyes for a minute “The carving of my beloved” 

“What does that mean?”

The question that would frequently irritate Ratio but from her, nothing can make him get irritated by her “I have achieved and invented something that has given me praises and is well-known for it. But my greatest achievement is falling for you and only us know how my heart yearns for yours. I tried to imitate you in that sculpture but that beauty only you can have” 

There it is. No ridiculous reasons for giving her gifts. Ratio confessed his love that he has kept for awhile. He too made a deep depth as to why she can get away any irks he dislikes and why her presence makes his day brighter. It all because

“My love for you is never-ending like the universe” 

For now,she does not need to think of oblivious reasons as to why Ratio has gifted her gifts especially when it comes to the question of the sculpture of hers. Why? Because he loves her. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

kinda cringed a lil

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan’s Manager

Manager into crafts

Team Japan x Gender Neutral Manager (they/them)

Warnings: Like all fluff, maybe swearing???

AN: I’m back on my bs again and here to feed everyone 😅 sorry it’s so sporadic but I hope this holds everyone over for a bit!

When I say you should be nominated for sainthood Yn, I mean it!

These guys are a lot to deal with

Honestly, you have no clue how they even functioned before you came along

I mean, the coach practically begged you to be their manager

Man’s is tired 😴

Anyways, it’s safe to say that practices are eventful

Despite’s Bokuto saying he’s “matured”, he hasn’t

“How come Hinata got more sets than I did?” Bokuto asks Atsumu

You 👉🏻😃 crap he noticed-

“It’s simple, Hinata was just on today and you weren’t,” Atsumu responses, walking away

Bokuto 👇🏻

Meanwhile, Yaku and Hakuba are arguing about something 🙄

“That’s block sucked man, stop moving your hands all over!” Yaku shouts

“I wasn’t moving my hands all over, I was setting up for a receive when I knew I couldn’t block!” Hakuba yells back

On top of that Iwaizumi is yelling at Kageyama for practicing too much

Sakusa is complaining about how everyone needs to schedule their flu shot

And Aran has just all but abandoned the gym because he’s just over it

Thankfully, when practice was over, you were able to go home and spend some time enjoying one of your favorite hobbies

Crafting ✂️ 🎨 🧶

You had tried a lot of different crafts and found that you were pretty good at them

Everything from painting to knitting, from sculpting to resin

You enjoyed the creativity that crafts provided

It could be stressful but definitely not as stressful as your day job

Nothing can ever beat that stress 🙄

Anyways, you’d managed to keep your hobby on the down low

It wasn’t that you weren’t proud, it was more like you just hadn’t found the opportunity to bring it up

I mean, it’s not like you’re busy or something 😐

It wasn’t until one fateful night when your happy little secret was finally discovered

You see, you were home, watching/listening to some show while trying to knit

It was a newer hobby you’d picked up, on top of jewelry making, crocheting, etc

A jack of all trades our sweet YN 💅

You are knee deep in ‘knit one purl two’ rhythm when the door bell rings

Now since you had very little life outside the team, you were wondering who it could possibly be

You didn’t want to lose your stitch so you stood up and made your way to the door

On the other side was none other then Hinata and Kageyama

Panicked you quickly opened the door and stared at them

🎶 when he looks at me, and I look at him and he looks at me and I LOOK AT HIMMM 🎶

Obviously, you are draped in yarn while dawning other comfy attire 💅

Arguably two of the most “chaotic” members of the team just stare at you

Literally 👉🏻👁️👄👁️

You look at them like “What? Can’t I have a life outside of being your caretaker?”

Of course Hinata probably thinks you just escaped some maniac who attempted to tie you up with yarn of all things…

“OMG YN WHERE YOU KIDNAPPED??” Hinata yells, grabbing onto your shoulders and shaking you rather violently

“I’m in my own house Shoyo…” you respond, brain trying to reconnect to reality

Leave it to Kageyama to help the situation

“HINATA BOKE YN ISNT KIDNAPPED, THEY ARE PRACTICING THEIR KNOT TYING SKILLS!” Kageyama screams, smacking Hinata in the back of the head

See… helping 😌

Sighing as the two dunces fight in front of you, you try to calmly correct their mistake

“I’m not kidnapped, nor am I practicing any nautical knot tying, I’m learning to knit,” you explain as the two cock an eyebrow in your direction.

Both of them look at each other and then back to you, confused 🫤

You 👉🏻😐🙄

“You know what, it’s really not important! What do you two need?” You question, wondering why you were interrupted in the first place

“Well now I can’t remember why we came here!” Hinata exclaims, “can you Kageyama?”

“Yeah not really,” Kageyama answers

You definitely deserve a pay raise Yn

“Ok well if you two could kindly go home and rest that would be much appreciated. You know how angry Hajime gets when you guys don’t get enough sleep,” you scold as the two men’s eyes widen

They quickly take off, racing each other to who knows where

As you close and lock your door, you think about how the next days practice with go

Will Hinata and Kageyama tell the other guys about your hobby?

Will Hinata and Kageyama even remember?

Honestly you figure brain cells are on your side since the two that just exited your apartment have a combined one on a good day

There’s no way they’d ever tell the guys about your knitting…

Sure… yeah… absolutely… it’s DEFINITELY fine : D

*12 hours later*

“YN I didn’t know you tied nautical knots on your days off? What a unique hobby!” Yaku says, first the next morning at practice

“I didn’t even know you fished Yn,” Hakuba adds

“Maybe YN just likes the art of knot making?” Aran suggests

You 👉🏻 🧍🙄

“I don’t tie knots guys, I knit… KNIT!” You shout as their eyes all pop open

“Knit? As in like what grandmas do?” Atsumu inputs

Please someone 👊🏻

“Atsumu shut up! Knitting is something alot of people do to relieve stress. And with a team filled with dummies like you, I’m sure YN needs all the stress relieve they can get!” Iwaizumi shouts

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the gym fills with chatter

“Why didn’t you tell us about your hobby Yn?” Ushijima asks as you just stare at him and gesture to the chaos that is currently unfolding

Ushijima just nods and quietly walks away to resume his practice

“So YN do you knit? Like scarves or port holders or something?” Suna questions as he walks with you to your office

“Well I’m just learning the art right now but I do a few other crafts in my spare time,” you say, still ignoring whatever is happening on the floor

“That’s cool, you should post some of your crafts online. I’m sure you could sell them or something? Maybe make a little extra money?”

You shrug, not really interested in extra funds and more excited to just do something you enjoy

Or should I say, the TEAM enjoys 😅

Because if you think you’re going to get away with not teaching one craft Yn, you are very mistaken

Hinata is sending you 5 minute craft videos every day

Bokuto wants to know if you can knit special pads for him for practice

Atsumu is asking for a custom “Atsumu” phone case 🙄

It literally doesn’t stop

So what do we do about this? Well there’s only one thing we CAN do 👀

🎉 CRAFT PARTY 🎉

That’s right, you gather all your craft supplies and haul them into the gym one Friday during practice

The guys all stare at you like you’ve walked into the wrong gym

“Uhh Yn you do know this is a volleyball gym right?” Yaku jokes as you set up your table on the side lines and nod

“Yep! But after practice it’s going to be a craft party!”

“Craft… PARTY???” The guys all shout in tones varying from excitement to pure confusion

“Yes since you all want me to make you crafts, I’m just going to show you how to do it instead!” You exclaim

“You made sure to get non-toxic glue right Yn? I don’t trust some of the idiots not to eat it,” Sakusa remarks, staring at a few members in particular

You roll you eyes and smile, “yes Sakusa, it’s all safe! And I have crafts for everyone.”

Surprisingly, the guys are rather good at crafts

Sakusa’s flexibility makes crocheting and knitting a piece of cake

Atsumu’s flamboyant nature makes him great at painting

Hinata and Kageyama have somehow turned bracelet making into a competition

Komori and Yaku are great with stencils!

And you? You are just happy to be able to share your hobby with your favorite people 🥰

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One

TW: nsfw, exhibitionism, violence, blood and gore and guns, trauma, death

“Okay,” Tom says, “you need eggs, milk, blueberries, flour. You writing this down, baby?” 

“Um, no, hold on. You’re distracting me.” You grab your little pink nurse notepad and a pen. 

“Distracting you?” 

“It’s not my fault you sound hot talking about pancake recipes.” You flush at your own boldness, at the heavy chuckle he gives you. 

“Naughty girl, I’m in a diner, you know.” 

“Oh, sorry. Crowded?” 

“Does this mean you’re ready for round two?” He muses. 

“Wouldn’t it be round, like, 6?” You tease, catching yourself literally twirling your hair and kicking your feet for Tom Ludlow, pen poised for instruction. 

“You just wait til I get my hands on that sweet little—hey, Jordan, what’s up? Yeah, no problem—sorry, old coworkers.” 

You cover your mouth to muffle the raucous giggle—now, you scold yourself, can’t turn all hyper feminine and cute just because of Tom. “Okay, and the pancakes?” 

“What? Oh, yeah, pancakes. Although, now I’m hungry for something else...” 

“Indecent,” you gasp, “I’m just trying to get a pancake recipe, and here you are being a scoundrel.” 

“If I was a scoundrel, I’d take the rest of the day off and come lodge myself in that chokehold of a pussy.” He has to be quiet to avoid the nearby patrons hearing him, but that low, hushed voice travels through the phone, into your ear canal, through your brain, down your body, and straight into your cunt. 

You give a little frustrated grumble and put your head in your arms, hiding as if he’s right beside you and can feel the heat of your skin and the tremble of your body. 

“She can give it, but she just can’t take it,” he tsks, and you hear that shit eating grin. 

“Can too,” you protest, whiny. 

“We’re not talking about my cock, baby.” 

Jesus fucking Christ, okay okay. He wins. He gets the dirty talk crown. You’d say that’s the only thing his mouth is good for, but you’d be very, very wrong. 

“Pancakes?” You try pathetically. 

Phone sex. It’s usually awkward, tense, strange. Tom Ludlow makes it seamless, and it’s one of his favorite things, as you’ve come to learn. “Mmm. Don’t act like it isn’t your fault that I’m rock hard in a crowded food joint. Oh, fuck, I know you love cockwarming me, baby, but imagine doing it in a room full of people. One of those pretty little sundresses you love to tease me with hiding us from everyone. You’d have to keep quiet for me, though, so nobody finds out I have you stuffed full.” 

“God, I hope some elderly woman is not seated by you listening to this—you’ll give her a stroke.” Your joking voice sounds more like your please, fuck me voice right now, and you’re rubbing your pussy against the chair lip like in highschool fucking math class with that one handsome teacher. 

“The only thing I’m stroking today is that needy clit when I get my hands on—“ his voice changes from sensual to frustrated, and the line goes blank for a minute. “I gotta go, baby, see you tonight?” 

“Yeah, see you tonight, Tom.” 

“Keep her wet for me.” 

Well, at least you know that won’t be a problem. Not even while you’re showering, shaving, touching up the paint on your nails, cleaning, soaking your feet in epsom salts, and pulling out the new pretty cotton candy lace lingerie set you bought for Tom to lay out for later. You burn some incense, feed the plants, brush your teeth, and then even do a face mask just for the hell of it. 

It takes a while for you to realize that you’re starving. Blueberry pancakes sound like heaven right now, and you have everything but the main ingredient—fresh blueberries, Tom had insisted, they need to be fresh. 

You could eat a TV dinner for the 8th time this week, ignore that grumble in your tummy that craves something light and fluffy and sweet, but instead you grab your keys and decide to head to the local corner store for some little, delicious blue diamonds. 

You know it’s ridiculous, that just walking into the store, you feel like you’re floating around on a little cloud. This is all Tom’s fault, of course. The euphoria of new love–fuck, you should not use that word. But frankly, you don’t know what else to call it. 

No one has ever made you feel this way before. Always, you had a chorus of warning bells in the back of your mind in previous relationships, warning you not to get too comfortable, not to think for a moment you could depend on a man to be good to you past the point where he’d finally gotten the gratification that he wanted out of you all along.

But Tom…Tom wanted you. And not just for sex, though that had been–and you had a feeling would continue to be–fucking amazing. You think back on the way you had cuddled in your bed with such a sense of fulfillment and peace. He made you feel whole, whether he was inside you or just filling your arms, and that usual sense of terror that fills you with such things is gradually fading to a dull roar. You know if it goes on much longer–another day, another hour–you’re going to fold and give in. 

Floating on your little cloud, you’re not really paying much attention, as you browse the shelves and pick out your ingredients. The blueberries look heavenly, and you cradle your prize in your hand, excited to put them to use–in your grumbling tummy. So when the sound of gunfire erupts somewhere in the little store, you are taken completely by surprise. All you can think to do is hit the floor, making yourself as small and flat as possible. 

Blueberries spill and bounce down the aisle. 

***

Detective Tom Ludlow is on the prowl. 

He knows he should let it go–but he can’t. It’s just not in his vocabulary. Detective Terrence Washington betrayed their brotherhood, and he fully intends to give his old partner a piece of his mind. A firm talking to. 

Ok. He might break his jaw. 

As young cops Ludlow and Washington had regrettably learned that nothing gets in the way of Law and Order like the Law itself. After watching bad men go free on the streets time and time again, they had worked together to administer their own brand of justice. So what if they walked slightly on the other side of the line? If it meant a piece of shit wife abuser didn’t get to skip back home just to do it again, or a murderer didn’t go free to hurt someone else, then they’d done a good night’s work. Helping people was what he’d become a cop for in the first place, and it seemed like using his knowledge and connections to more vigilante purposes was the only way real justice got done. 

Maybe a part of him had sort of known it might catch up to him someday. He hadn’t cared at the time. After his wife’s death…he hadn’t cared about much, except the job. It was all he had. But now…he has you. It complicated things, in the best way. He knows you’re scared. He knows you’ve had a rough past, even if you haven’t felt comfortable enough to tell him about it yet. Most of all, he knows…that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time, and he’s not letting you go. 

So maybe, just this once, he’ll keep a hold of his world-class temper, and not use the belt he’s coiled around his fist to protect his knuckles. The sound of loud rap music catches his attention; he turns to see a late model red Caprice, windows down, piloted by two men with faces covered with bandanas. 

In his gut, he just knows.  

He knows something terrible is about to happen, and he doesn’t have his sidearm because officially he’d surrendered it and he was supposed to be working the Complaints Desk right now. All he has is his backup strapped to his ankle. It’s a .38 special, just like his father carried, with six fucking shots and it’s not nearly going to be enough to go against the firepower these boys are undoubtedly packing. 

He runs into the store anyway, because that is what he does. 

***

The items on the shelves explode in the rain of gunfire. Cereal. Canned goods. Chips. Poof! You are covered in foodstuff detritus, and your ears are ringing, and people are screaming on the other side of the store. It all happens so fast, and yet somehow time seems to slow. 

You know you’re an idiot, but it is the sound of the screams that gets you army-crawling your way around to the corner of the isle. Someone might need your help. If they’re screaming–they’re not dead. And whether you’re in the ER or not, that means you have a job to do.

As you poke your head around the corner you see an African American man on the ground, his ebony dark skin splattered bright crimson with blood. One of the robbers leans over him, says something you can’t make out past the ringing in your ears. The man on the ground reaches up, swipes the bandana away with a clumsy hand. Says something forceful with what little strength he can muster.  

You see the shooter’s face, his handsome features a mask of fury as he shoots the injured man one more time in the chest. 

Then the shooters flee, racing out the door to their car, peeling away down the block. 

You are shocked, when none other than Officer Tom Ludlow emerges from behind one of the other banks of shelves, kneels beside the wounded man. 

“Washington, Washington, stay with me” he calls, urgent and panicked, a new side of him coming to light among spilled grocery goods and fluorescent lights. He feels the man’s pulse, and his face turns pallid and scared. You’re on your feet, then, running and slipping on a puddle of liquid, getting right back up and crossing what feels like a miles long distance to land at the man’s side. 

“Y/n?” Tom grabs your shoulders, but you shove him off. 

“Does he have a pulse?”

“No, are you alright?” 

“Call 911, get me an AED.” You press two fingers into a blood coated jugular, slipping off the mess of plasma, and then going back to feel for a pulse that isn’t there. 

Turns out Tom doesn’t have to call anyone, because two ambulances and five cop cars pull up to the storefront. As you perform CPR, the old familiar song and dance of cartilage tearing and ribs breaking and getting covered in crimson up to the mid forearm, police and firemen and other uniformed personnel flood into the store. 

Someone tries to pull Tom away, but he shoves them off and kneels back down beside you with an AED, knuckles bloody and glittering with glass shards from where he probably punched in a display window to get to the defibrillator. 

“Put the pads on him,” you tell Tom, lifting up your hands momentarily so he can rip Washington’s shirt right down the middle. You go back to compressing while he slaps the pads on, and switches the device. 

It lights up, that little pleasant ding a thick balm on your raging, acidic anxiety. STAND CLEAR, it says, just as the stretcher arrives. ANALYZING HEART RHYTHM.  

“Let me take over,” someone instructs, taking your place on the floor. “How long have you been at it?”

Tom speaks for you. “Twenty minutes.” 

Felt like two. 

NO SHOCK ADVISED. BEGIN CPR. 

“Put a line in.” Tom pulls you away. “Pushing epi now.” He picks you up, sticky from blood—or maybe that’s you. “STAND CLEAR.” You get a cradled police escort outside, and placed gently into the passenger seat of Tom’s car. 

“Stay here?” He asks, hand on your cheek, damp and thick. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

He shuts you in and presses the lock. 

[prettieinpink]

IMPROVING YOUR LIFE ASPECTS: THE LITTLE HABITS

Hello girlies and genitals, I am aware that my posts haven’t been up to my standard lately but thank you so much for 220+ followers. I’m so grateful for each and every one of you to be apart of this blog and I wish for us to grow into the best versions of ourselves.

Today, I have something special to celebrate: a collaboration with everyone’s favourite, honey! ( @honeytonedhottie )Thank you honey for this idea of a collab, which has been so fun talking and it’s been a pleasure working with you, I hope we do another one in the future. If you haven’t already, go and follow honey(the best decision trust)!

her part of this collab is here ! go read it and follow her yall

GENERAL

habits that are uncategorised or improve multiple aspects of your life <3

Prioritising yourself. Put yourself over anyone else, even if it effects them. I know it’s harsh, but put on your oxygen mask before helping others.

Establishing routines in your daily life. Morning, evening, study, workout etc, we humans thrive on routines.

Start implementing small things to look forward to during the day. Whether it’s drinking a hot beverage before bed, or going out on a walk in the sun, just having these things makes it easier for us to get through the day.

Curate your social media, ensure what you are feeding your mind is nourishing it, not destroying it. + avoid any mental clutter from your feed

Saying positive affirmations to yourself before the day! It’s an nice way to pump yourself up.

Set boundaries. Not only with others, but yourself. Don’t allow yourself to sleep late constantly or have over 8 hours of screen time.

Learn how to say no. Saying no is now considered a powerful tool for someone to have because we then allow the things we do want to come in our lives and guard ourselves from things we don’t want in our lives.

Setting one daily goal! It doesn’t have to be a difficult or challenging one, but preferably something you feel uncomfortable about doing.

EDUCATION

Being educated is the most powerful asset nowadays, besides, learning is the best beauty regimen!

Reading a few news articles a day, being updated with the latest news in your country and community is a great advantage in general and a way to stimulate your mind

Reading paperback/hard copy books is another great way to stimulate your mind without scrolling endlessly. You learn new experiences and ideas, and gain more empathy for others.

Learning another language! This is extremely useful because when we learn it, we stimulate another part of our brain that is usually inactive + a great thing to put on resumes or applications.

Having high quality sleep actually helps with long term memory and sustaining everything you’ve learnt in the day. 6-8 hours in an ideal number of sleep.

Taking regular breaks which are productive,this is so important for sustaining your motivation and avoiding burnout. E.g going out for a walk, meditation, Journalling

Spending a few hours a day without relying on electronic devices. Social media and more will put so much mental clutter in your head, being away from it allows for mental clarity.

Doing focus meditations before doing any deep work. This allows you to stay on task for much longer and rids of any mental clutter.

Talking to others who have more expertise than you and listening, but you do not have to agree with them, it’s just valuable to have another person’s perspective and experience.

Challenge yourself daily and start being comfortable with feeling uncomfortable. Research about topics you dislike, do things you struggle at at least once a week.

PERSONALITY

Being charming, but still being down to earth to yourself while maintaining good relationships with others allows for happiness + harmony within you.

Sharpen up your vocabulary and learn to pronounce words that are difficult. People who are clear and concise speakers are automatically magnetic.

Learning how to use more advanced words in daily conversations, it gives off a more sophisticated and educated vibe to others.

Be passionate about the things and people you love, even if looked down upon by others. Trust, because everything that you love will come in abundance.

Making an effort to truly listen and understand someone. Engage with them, ask open ended questions and maintaining open body language. People will be so much more interested about who you are as a person.

Be genuine. Not only to others, but also yourself. People naturally gravitate to those who know themselves and their values.

Being truly kind to others. Always lend out a helping hand, even if you know they wouldn’t have done the same for you. Whatever you put out, will come back.

Relating to the previous point, don’t be afraid to ask for help from others. While you should strive to be independent, allow yourself to receive and be provided for.

Work towards being confident. Not only in your physical appearance but also your abilities, your standing in life and your environment. The only validation you should get is from you!

Smile, even if you’re not in the mood for it, smiling actually boosts our mood and the moods of others + it gives off more approachable vibes.

Start complimenting others, even if you do not believe that compliment yourself. We make ourselves more approachable and kinder to others, but it also will change our mind to be more positive and accepting.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Keep up with that beautiful, sexy, cute, perfect face babes. Make looking yourself in the mirror your favourite pastime and bless others with the privilege of seeing you.

Your smile is the best part about yourself. Brush those pearly whites, use mouthwash and floss. If really nesscessary use a teeth serum.

Do yoga and stretches to improve your posture. You’ll notice different parts of your body improving, like your jaw, hump neck etc.

Start nose breathing. A small one for sure, but it can make or break you in the long run.

Sleep on your back, your mouth is closed so you don’t breath through it and it helps with symmetry of your face.

Create a beauty planner. Plan what you want to do for yourself, whether it’s at home or done professionally, plan on what days you do it, the products you use, the vibe you’re going for etc

Create a closet you feel confident in. The l rarest and expensive thing you can wear is confidence in yourself.

Start sanitising your hands regularly. Even if we try, we still touch our face during the day. Instead of trying to fight against it, just make sure your hands are clean.

Smell good, there’s tons of tutorials out there that outline how to be smelling good all day. It makes you feel good and others moods will boost around you.

Change pillowcases like once a week, it can easily get dirty and can affect your skin and hair.

Keep track of your beauty products and when they expire, but if anything of that substance changes even mildly, throw it!

[drpoisonoaky]

Therapy homework, fire siblings edition

Azula and Zuko have to share moments from their childhood in order to heal their relationship (therapy homework), even as they are there for each other.

In my own personal Azula’s redemption arc, Zuko is there helping her sister in the same way he got help.

So they talk about everything because they’re healing and they need to do it.

[Turtle ducks]

Zuko: I think those two are playing together.

Azula: Or they’re fighting to decide who will become the Turtle Lord.

Zuko: Don’t project your trauma onto turtle ducks. 

Azula: I was not. It’s a very real and possible situation in the turtle duck world.

Zuko: I am going to ignore that because I was wondering why you hate them.

Azula: I don’t hate them.

Zuko: You threw rocks at them every time we were here.

Azula:

Zuko: What?

Azula: That we never included me, you know? It was more like “Mom and Zuko and, oh, Azula is here”.

Azula: So I guess I want my mother to give me attention, and my child brain said “Let’s make chaos”.

Zuko: Oh… I’m sorry I…I never thought about it that way.

Azula: Don’t punish yourself Zuzu. We were children. It wasn’t your job.

Zuko: But now we can feed them together, right? No rocks, only bread.

Azula: You really are a softie. It’s annoying.

Zuko: Let’s take the bread.

[Children]

Zuko: Do you want kids?

Azula: Not really. You do?

Zuko: One. Only one.

Azula: Did I traumatize you Zuzu?

Zuko: Yes, but no. If I had a kid, I want to focus on them, giving them all of my love and support. Being the Firelord and doing that for more than one child it’s impossible.

Azula: Oh, you really think about this… I hate to say it, but you would be a great dad.

Zuko: Thanks. I appreciate it. Why don't you?

Azula: First of all, it would have to be adopted, so the kid comes with baggage. And with my baggage, I probably couldn’t be there as much as the kid needs. It’s not fair to them. I can’t put the happiness of some child behind my own selfishness.

Zuko: Cool aunt?

Azula: I’m going to spoil your child so much that they’ll be as insufferable as you are.

Zuko: Of course you will.

[Fire resistance]

Katara: Hey firebenders, I have a question. Do you really resist fire better by nature or…?

Azula: Yes and no. 

Zuko: I mean, look at my face. 

Katara: That’s why I’m asking. Why do you resist less than ‘Zula? I swear she could be on fire and not notice.

Azula: We didn’t have the same training. Mother stopped Ozai a lot for the both of us. But when she was gone…

Zuko: I was banished when he started his fire resistance methods…

Katara: but ‘Zula don’t.

Azula: I was burned every day in every place except the face. Well, you saw the marks.

Sokka: Why not the face?

Suki: Don’t be rude.

Azula: It was because I was a princess after all, and you know we had to be pretty and perfect.

Katara: And how do you get high pain tolerance from that?

Azula: I guess some nerves died along the way or maybe my brain learned to ignore that kind of pain…I don’t know. 

Azula: I hate him, but in battle it’s really useful. But yeah, don’t try it at home, kids.

Sokka: So if we try to burn your fac-

Katara: Don’t you dare, asshole.

[Crying]

Katara: Did they cry much when they were babies?

Azula: I bet Zuzu was insufferable.

Zuko: I was a pretty nice baby.

Ursa: You were nice, but you cried a lot.

Azula: See.

Ursa: And you weren't nice at all, young lady. But truth to be told, she didn’t cry.

Zuko: Lack of emotions, I see.

Azula: Not dumbass, it was for the balance between you and me.

Katara: She didn’t cry at all? What would happen if she was hungry or hurt herself?

Ursa: She just waited.

Azula: Of course I did that, crying change nothing. Plus, it wasn’t allowed.

Zuko: What do you mean?

Azula: Oh right, that was one of the points of our “educational differences”.

Ursa: Azula?

Azula:

Katara: Azula?

Azula: Fine.

Azula: Father didn’t really like the tears. He said that water isn’t something that should exist around a firebender. So I didn’t cry.

Katara: …but what if you did by any chance?

Azula, smiling sadly: He turned into my personal dryer. Goodbye tears.

Ursa: *gasp* But when you were a child he neve-

Azula: Don’t worry mother… It's not your fault.

Zuko: We should try to cry together anytime you want. As a therapy exercise, of course.

Azula: I-…thanks Zuzu.

Katara: And I hope he knows that you are around water all the time and he can’t do shit.

Azula: Of course master Katara, best master water bender of all times.

Zuko: Mom, we should go. They had started their own weird flirting thing.

Katara:

Azula: 

Katara: What are you waiting for? Keep going.

[Compliments]

Aang: I know It’s none of my business, but I was wondering why some compliments make you look awkward but on the opposite sides. *Points at Azula and Zuko*

Zuko: What do you mean?

Aang: Like Azula takes it so well when we say something nice about her bending or her looks but she’s weird when it’s not about that. And you get so weird when we compliment your looks or your bending. Like a yin and yang kinda thing.

Azula: Easy. I was praised for everything Zuko isn’t.

Aang: What do you mean?

Azula: I’m a prodigy and a princess. Being an excellent firebender and looking pretty at the same time is or was my job. Zuzu is a mediocre firebender, under Father’s eyes, and he burned half of his face. 

Zuko: And ‘Zula never was praised for being anything else. 

Aang: But that’s awful.

Azula: I didn’t need to be anything apart from that, Zuko was banished. That’s life.

Sokka: No, it’s not. Your father it’s a piece of shit.

Katara: And I hope we never see him again. No offense.

Azula and Zuko: None taken.

[Giving Affection]

Katara, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic: I don’t know if it’s awkward to ask you that.

Zuko: …Go on.

Katara: Okay, so when you get out of the fire nation. Do you flinch?

Zuko: …Did I flinch?

Katara: General affection. 

Zuko: Not really. My mother used to hug me a lot and you know Iroh. 

Katara: …and who hugged Azula?

Zuko: Mom before disappearing, I guess? Me on some special days. I don’t know if our father ever did that.

Azula: Neither of them. Did you go to Zuzu to get information about me? 

Katara: I want to know “your background” from another point of view.

Azula: I hate that that is a logical move. But to answer that, maybe Ty Lee was the only one. And you know Mai.

Zuko: Didn’t Mom hug you?

Azula: Do you remember that little detail that mother hated me? 

Zuko: She didn’t ha-

Azula: Don’t. Please. We already passed that point.

Katara: So it’s decided.

Azula: What?

Katara: I’m now your personal koala, whether you want it or not. Come here.

Azula: But you do more things…

Zuko: And that’s my cue to get out of here.

[Education]

Aang: Wait, really, you know it all?

Azula: Of course, it was part of my education. I need to know history, especially anything related to war, but knowledge is knowledge.

Aang: But Zuko didn’t know anything about the Air Nomads' history.

Azula: We didn’t have the same education.

Zuko: Basically because Azula is a nerd.

Azula: Excuse me.

Zuko: After you did your homework, you started to read about everything, especially history. That’s why.

Aang: So she's more prepared than you.

Azula: I am. While Zuzu cried, I trained or focused on my studies. Time is gold in war.

Katara: You didn’t rest?

Azula: Not really, but sometimes I needed to rest in order to continue. 

Zuko: No you don’t. You can’t count that as resting. 

Aang: What, why?

Zuko: It’s not my call. Sorry. But you should explain it ‘Zula.

Katara: Azula?

Azula: What Zuzu means is that the “rest days” weren’t really optional.

Aang: Oh, they force you to rest?

Azula: Not exactly…I have to rest because I couldn’t move. Training wasn’t always…educational.

Zuko: Call it what it was. That shitty excuse of man made us fight against him and beat us until we faint.

Aang: Spirits.

Zuko: And I guess me being gone didn’t make him less reckless…

Azula: Quite the opposite…that’s why learning was fun. 

Azula: But anyways Zuzu you should learn that so from now on I’m going to teach you history, physics and math. Be aware.

Zuko: Only if we take rest days. Real ones.

Azula: Don’t be lazy.

[Wake up time]

Katara: I can’t beat Azula.

Sokka: But you did remember…Oh, spirits, don’t tell me is a dirty-

Katara: NO. 

Katara: Also not in that way, dummy. I can’t get up earlier than her. It's like every time I wake up early and say “Wow, today I really got up early” she’s already awake and meditating or something. 

Ty lee: I tried for a week. Then I got tired.

Mai: It’s a losing battle. You can’t beat them.

Katara: Wait, does Zuko also wake up early?

Mai: Every day, like if he makes the sun or something.

Azula, arriving from sparring with Zuko: Talking behind my back isn’t new, but still hurts a little. 

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Why do you wake up so early? Both of you.

Azula, raising an eyebrow: Why do you ask?

Zuko: Why do you wake up so late? 

Katara: Don’t answer a question with a question. Both of you don’t know the concept of oversleeping or even slacking. Why?

Zuko: What are you ta-…Oh. 

Zuko: Lala, do you remember the “If you wake up after the sun…

Azula: …how do you pretend to use his flames”. 

Katara: Oh no.

Mai:

Ty lee: That jerk.

Zuko: So we have to stop.

Azula: I’m going to knock myself out every morning, I swear. 

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Or instead of me waking up next to my unconscious girlfriend, you could try not getting out of bed.

Zuko: You mean stay in bed until the sun is up so we can train later?

Katara: I mean yeah. At least until you wake up like a regular human being.

Sokka: But that would imply they are regular human beings and we-AH STOP.

Azula, shooting little lightning at him: Sorry what?

Zuko, burning his butt: We are having difficulties hearing you.

Sokka: KATARA HELP YOU BROTHER.

Katara, ignoring Sokka and talking to Mai and Ty lee: So you two also like to wake up late?

Sokka: KATARA.

Ty lee: Yes, but it doesn’t fit the Kyoshi Warriors’ lifestyle. And that makes Suki angry with me, a lot.

[ohtobeleah]

Red Light, Green Light // Mickey Garcia

Summary: For some reason you’d never know, yours and Jake personal Heaven becomes a check point for the friends you left behind. One by one the Daggers come through on their way to their forever life after death.

Warnings: Mentions of death. Car wreck. Instant death. Mickey Garcia Angst.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author Note: This is a spin off Series to Bruises. Masterlist Tagged below.

Bruises Masterlist | Life After Death Masterlist

Name: Miguel Garcia: Age: 55: Cause Of Death: Ejection from moving vehicle resulting in multiple catastrophic injuries. 

***~***~***~**~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Who is this this time?” The brain is the body’s most mysterious organ. It learns. It changes. It adapts. It tells you what you see, what you hear, it lets you feel love. “Bob, Rooster and Phoenix have all come through.” You lulled your head to where your husband sat on the other side of the porch table. The two of you were enjoying a little wine and cheese pairing as the orange hume of the sun cascaded across the rolling hills. “Only Fanyboy, Coyote and Payback are left.” 

“Hello?” Mickey Garcia would even go as far to say it holds the human soul at the very epicenter. But no matter how much research is done, no one can really say how all that delicate gray matter inside your skull works. 

“Dunno.” Jake sighed, he couldn’t help but to squint and lean a little more forward in his chair to see if he could make out who was stumbling up the dirt drive. “You wanna go or should I?” 

And when it’s hurt, when the human brain is traumatised, well—that’s when it gets even more mysterious. 

“I’ll go.” You nodded softly. “I feel like we only just got rid of Tash.” It was still a touchy subject to say the very least. “Hopefully whoever it is isn’t as confused.” 

“Wishful thinking Hotshot.” Jake teased as he cut himself another slice of Brie and placed it on one of those multigrain crackers he really liked. 

As you walked down the driveway, you saw your daughter feeding her chickens, collecting eggs that had been laid and cleaning up the wooden house Jake had helped her build. It was her own mini farm. She was everything. You and Jake knew you had a rough decision ahead of you, to decide when she’d stop aging. But at what point do you decide another soul can’t continue to grow? When a figment of imagination stops being created. It was the down side to parenting in the after life. 

Gravel crunched under every step you took and soon enough you were able to make out the curls that were undeniably Mickey. There was glass all over his shirt and shoulders as blood dripped from his styled hairdo. He looked good, like he’d just been out on the town. 

He didn’t come to you like Bob in his flight suit or Bradley in his hospital gown or even like Natasha who was still in her pajamas. No. Fanboy looked like he was doing something special here—what exactly you didn’t know. 

“So that’s it huh?” You called out to grab his attention. For a second Mickey looked around until he was standing still again, taking you in for all you were worth. “All the WSO’s are out of the race?” Fanboy didn’t look a day older than when you’d last seen him. 

Fuck.

“This is such bull shit.” Fanboy huffed as he kicked up some dust on the drive like a petulant child who didn’t get the desert he wanted. “I had the right of way! That dickhead didn’t even look and I’m the one who dies!?” He pointed at his chest before he shook his head in disbelief. “I was coming back from dinner! I’d been with Becky and her friends and she stayed back and—“ It’s then reality kicks in for Mickey Garcia. He stills all the while his brain catches up with him. “Oh my god—“ It’s then his eyes met yours as they welled with tears. “I’m never gonna see her again.” 

“You will.” You make sure to add before Fanboy can spiral any further into a depressive episode. “Come up to the house with me, there’s someone who wants to say hello.” 

Fanboy linked his arm with yours and slowly he walked side by side with you up to the old but beautiful farmhouse that sat nestled amongst old oak trees and gardens that flowered all year round. He was mesmerised by its beauty—the tranquility of it all. 

“I gotta say, it’s good to see you after all these years.” Mickey began as he tapped his hand over yours as he walked. “But I’m a little confused why it’s you of all people?” Mickey smiled at the chuckle you let out—god that was a sound he’d missed for years and years and years. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of you, or Jake for that matter. How tragic your story was. How meaningful your life was even after your death. “Not that I’m complaining, I just never thought it would look like this.” 

“We’re just as confused as you are.” You explained softly all the while Fanbky caught the sight of a little girl playing with a few chickens. “But please don’t get me wrong here Mick, this isn’t the gates of heaven—“ You tried to explain the best you could. “This is my version of heaven, this is mine and Jakes.” 

“Hangman’s here!?” It was then Fanboy started to look around as you got closer and closer to where you’d left your husband. When the dark curly haired aviator saw the panty dropping smile plastered across Jake's face as he came into vision, he took off running like he’d never run before in his life. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

There wasn’t a lick of malice in Fanboys tone as he embraced Jake in the biggest hug he swore he’d ever given. 

“Hey man—“ Jake slapped Mickey's back gently as he hugged his old colleague. “I missed you, really.” 

“You son of a bitch man, you just—one day you were there and the next you were gone and I couldn’t figure it out—“ Mickey was babbling, he was trying to explain how utterly heartbroken the team was after Jake's death. “I uh, I collected your things from the morgue, after, well, you uh—“ 

“You don’t have to say if Mick.” Jake added as he chuckled and sat back down. You followed, only instead of taking your own chair you gestured for  Mickey to take a seat. You decided Jake lap would be more comfortable. It was. “Rooster kinda went a little AWOL after you died, so I went to grab your things and I saw that picture of Hollywood in your wallet and I just knew man—I knew you were dead long before you ever really died.” 

“What photo?” You asked softly as you looked at your husband in the warmth of the afternoon sun. “Honey?” 

“It was just some photo I took way back when—“ You saw the crimson hume creeping itself across Jake's cheeks as he went on explaining. Mickey never got to see this version of the two of you, it felt like a blessing, a chapter finishing on a high it always deserved to have. “We were all hanging around the pool table, it must have been like a week before we shipped out.” You never knew about this. “I snapped a photo of you laughing, god it was just the most perfect picture, Hotshot.” 

“You kept me in your wallet?” How on earth had you never known this. 

“Always—“ Jake replied without a second of hesitation. “You were my WSO.” It was the sweetest of interactions, the most loving of exchanges as Jake leaned in to give you a simple peak full of admiration. “Love you.” 

“Why am I here?” Mickey asked as he flicked shards of glass from his shoulders. “Like I get I’m dead, which sucks so bad because I was about to get married in two weeks!” Mickey explained as tears welled in his eyes at the thought of leaving his fiancée behind. He already missed her, oh so much. “But like, why am I here with you two? And you’re kid?” Fanboy frowned at the thought. “Hold on, how do you two have a kid?” He was throwing out far too many questions way too quickly before you even had a chance to answer them. 

“Okay first.” Jake started as he wrapped his arms around your midsection and drew you back into him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Jake wanted to see if Mickey was dying or if he was already dead. It seemed as though when Bob and Natasha came through they were still just barely holding on. Rooster though, he was dead as dead could be. “Do you hear anything? See anything?” 

“I remember having the right of way at the intersection—“ Mickey sighed as he slumped in his chair. “Next thing I saw was headlights and then I was lying on the bonnet of my car down the road.” It was hard to listen to, but at least it had been quick. “I walked up the first driveway I saw.” You were waiting for Mickey to say he could hear sirens or someone calling out to him. But when he didn’t you knew then and there: 

That he’d died alone, and instantly at that. 

“Oh Mickey.” All you could do was feel a deep rooted sympathy for the WSO who sat in front of you. “I’m so sorry—“ 

“I’ll get to see her again, won’t I?” 

“I hope so.” It was as genuine as ever. “When I first got here I could still hear Jake asking me to stay, but I just had this feeling he wouldn’t be too far behind me if I stayed here and got everything ready.” 

It brought Jake solace to know you weren’t in pain when you left him. That was always his biggest fear. If you suffered or not. 

“I don’t hear anything—“ Again it broke your heart, the poor thing probably didn’t even know her fiancé had died in a car wreck yet. “What do I uh, where do I go?” Mickey cleared his throat as he tried to hold it together. He still wore the ring his fiancée had given him to match the one he’d gotten her. “Do I stay here with you guys or do I just start walking and hope for the best?” 

“Bradshaws with his parents across the hills.” Jake explained as he let his chin fall to your shoulder. “Bobs off somewhere in a music store—“ 

“Phoenix is at the beach house she grew up visiting with her family.” You added softly, still trying to be as sensitive as you could be. “So it just depends on where you’ve always pictured yourself.” 

“So like, if I said I wanted to spend forever in the roller rink my Abuela used to take me to when I was a kid, I could go there?” Mickey asked all the while he admired the beauty that was you and Jake. He never thought he’d get to see this, the happy ending the pair of you deserved. It was all the closure he needed. 

“I think so!” You chuckled. “I’m still not entirely sure how it all works, we don’t even know why you guys keep stopping by.” It was then a light bulb flicked up atop Mickey's head, he knew. He knew why. 

“I do.” Fanboys eyes glasses over with a sadness you couldn’t quite understand. “You guys both took something a little different from all of us when you died.” Jake's hold on you got a little tighter—his forearms pressed against your stomach as he tensed at the thought of leaving his friends behind. “And they say you can’t move onto the next life if you have unfinished business.” It made sense, Mickey had always had a pretty open take on death and the after life. “But our unfinished business died before us, guess this is our way of getting to say a proper goodbye, close that open window you guys jammed open when you left.” 

“Huh—“ Jake pressed his lips into the crook of your neck. “I never thought of it that way.” 

“The brain is the body’s most mysterious organ—“ Mickey could hear the sound of rollerblades racing past. If he closed his eyes he could smell the all too familiar smell of roller rink hot dogs and buffalo wings. “This isn’t the last time I’ll see you guys right?” 

“Nah man—“ Jake confirmed. “We’ll come visit, whenever you need us.” Silence washed over the three of you just as your daughter came racing up the porch steps. Mickey didn’t understand it—but he was happy to see it. “Hey Bug.” Jake pulled his daughter down onto his lap as well. His entire world in his very grasp. “How many did you get today?” 

“Seven.” Mickey swore blind that girl was the spitting image of Jake Seresin. It was almost scary. “I better go put them in the fridge.” 

“Go on sweetheart, we’ll be in soon.” Ellie Seresin didn’t blink twice at the man who sat across from her parents. Mickey would have introduced himself but sure enough, she was heading inside without so much as giving him the side eye. That’s when you told him the truth. 

“She can’t see you.” 

“How come?” Mickey asked, he was cautious not to sound too abrupt. 

“She’s a figment of our imagination.” Jake explained as he watched his daughter through the window. “You can’t create new life in death, she’s not real.” 

“But I can see her?” It was a hard topic of discussion even when it was just you and Jake. She was so real to the both of you. So genuine and pure. But you both knew, one day. She’d vanish. You wouldn’t need her anymore to help you heal. 

“Because you exist.” Was all you said as you sent Mickey a fine lipped smile. “You existed in life so you see everything in death.” 

Mickey Garcia would even go as far to say the mind holds the human soul at the very epicenter. And from what he could gather from what you and Jake had just told him. Little Ellie Seresin was just that. The very epicenter of yours and Jakes forever intertwined souls. And when it’s hurt, when the human brain is traumatised—

Well—that’s when it gets even more mysterious. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[sapphiewritesstuff]

Dude I need a hardcore yandere Namor x reader!

Where your Riri’s friend and specialize in chemistry and biology so you know how to make different materials for her and even make money off the side with selling your stuff to the government. And Namor definitely wants to kill you like the scientist but after finally seeing you in person has a change of heart, his mind convincing him it’ll be a waste on someone so intelligent to die, especially someone so beautiful- Namor then rizzes you up enough to manipulate you into staying with him after the war

(Extra points for tension and possessive)

love your work please drink more water 💧❤️❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you for the request and I’m really really glad you like my work, thank you for supporting me <33 I will try my best with this ask, as I usually don’t write hardcore Yandere, so if it’s not what you expect I’m sorry, but I am a soft girl at heart and Namor is my bby girl <33

Warnings: GN! Reader, Yandere, Violence, manipulation, kidnapping, Namor is dark but not darker than he is in the movie, isolation, punishments, murder, not proofread.

-You were kidnapped along with Shuri and Riri, knocked unconscious by Namora and taken to Talokan.

-Namor takes an almost immediate interest in you, wanting to talk to you and learn more about you. At first, he tries to excuse it as trying to get closer to the enemy, even though he doesn’t treat Riri the same way, but later learns to accept that he thinks that you’re beautiful.

-He accepts the fact that you're a genius, your inventions and experiments are like none other, and it intrigues him. Talokan could use someone like you, it would be a waste to kill you.

-The more time he spends with you, the more infatuated he becomes. Everything about you is perfect, from your brain to the way you act to the way you look, he needs you as his own.

-You plead with him to let Riri and Shuri go, but never beg for your own freedom, and Namor respects how selfless you are.

-Nakia soon comes to rescue the three of you, but as Namor started keeping you in his private hut, she was unable to take you back to the surface.

-You told yourself that they would come back for you, that they were just planning their next move, but days turned into weeks, and nobody ever came.

-Namor took pity on you, he hated seeing such a beautiful person be ruined by the surface dwellers, but he knew that he could use this to his advantage.

-One day, he sat down beside you, taking your face into his hands, and very firmly, yet gently, told you words that you'll never forget.

-"They're not coming for you, my love."

-He 'takes care' of the Wakandans soon after. (Interpret that as you will, if Wakanda and Talokan become allies he convinces them that you're in Talokan willingly, you're too afraid to say differently.)

-Life with Namor isn't spent as a captive, if you can overlook not being allowed to leave Talokan, he treats you like royalty (which you are, he has already made you the other ruler of Talokan through marriage). His touches are soft, and he feeds you only the freshest of fruits.

-Namor has a temper, there is no denying that, many poor servants have been subject to his yelling and wrath after disrespecting him or you.

-Despite this, he never lays a finger on you.

-Punishments? He doesn't like hurting you, his little scientist, but he knows that if he doesn't teach you, you'll stray away.

-He isolates you. You have been down in Talokan for god knows how long, with Namor being your only interaction, as much as you hate to admit it, it's nice having someone to keep you sane. Namor knows this, and uses it to his advantage. Whenever you act up or break one of his rules, he'll ignore you until you're begging for him to look at you again.

-He also makes you watch as he guts some innocent who 'wronged' you in his eyes. Sometimes it's an act of love ('look at what I would do for you!'), other times it's a punishment ('this is what happens to people you get too close to, it's your fault, stay by my side and nobody will have to suffer')

-You'll never see the surface again, he knows that the government will just come after you, he must keep you here to protect you and his kingdom. He's doing this for you!

-If you ever try to escape, god help you.

[myfairkatiecat]

Keefe (for bingo)

AHELDHKAUSHDKJAAHJSSHAKSBDKHSKSDSHAJAHDLDUSBSKSJSHALSHDHSKA

OK I CONTRADICTED MYSELF A LOT SO LET ME EXPLAIN

this is my favorite character of all time in any media, right up there with Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars, Nicholas & Nathaniel Benedict from TMBS (showverse) and Lancelot from bbc Merlin. Actually probably slightly above all those characters which is SAYING SOMETHING.

Is he comic relief? Yes.

Would I be his friend? Yes.

Has he done nothing wrong? Yes!! No he’s done many things wrong he’s so precious to me ok but the law he’s broken the law I love him so much he literally betrayed his friends I will always love him he has sooo much to answer for I’m glad Sophie forgives him after she chews him out she should chew him out longer but I suppose Fitz does that for her He has so many apologies to make but like he’s also done nothing wrong look I’m aware of my blorbo’s mistakes he’s honestly not as problematic as the tumblr fandom makes him out to be sometimes, and I MEAN that, but he’s also not as perfect and sweet as the eleven year olds on Wattpad make him out to be. He’s a LOT okay, you can’t analyze Keefe Sencen without the everything

Are my opinions unpopular? Yep! The other keefe girlies hate my opinions bc I acknowledge his character flaws and the Keefe haters hate my opinions bc I acknowledge the fact that he’s NOT an antagonist and actually has a lot of really good traits, and that’s NOT me making excuses. Also what are y’all on about saying he doesn’t get held accountable for his actions, like yeah Sophie forgives him pretty fast but not until she’s yelled at him, and the rest of his friends do NOT bounce back to normal (Fitz)

Do I relate to him? Yes, unfortunately. I have Fitz’s trauma and Keefe’s coping mechanisms (they aren’t good coping mechanisms but they’re literally mine)

Is the fandom wrong about him? Yes, the Keefe fans and Keefe haters alike. Don’t flatten this guy there’s SO MUCH THERE. (I’m not talking about my Keefe-negative mutuals—if I follow you, you didn’t flatten his character, I am very serious about Keefe Sencen)

Do I want to adopt him? YES I mean I’m literally his age but if I was old enough to adopt him I totally would, get that kid away from Cassius Sencen and kill Gisela Sencen. Honestly tho I’d settle for an Elwin adoption, dad!Elwin rocks

Did he need less screen time? *sighs in resigned Keefe fan* probably…objectively…yes…

Did canon do him dirty? I debated filling in this one. Because Shannon has made him a SUPER complex character. But also I swear if the ending of stellarlune isn’t the last time he steals something from Sophie to carry out a reckless plan he told no one about, I’ll riot. Don’t give him forward character progress and then erase it! If it’s a momentary relapse of bad habits I’ll allow it but I’m starting to want Shannon to let Keefe grow from all of that. Cause she keeps letting him get better—and then slip back. (Which isn’t unrealistic and I can work with!! I love him! But SHANNON PLEASE)

Do I want to study him? I want to get a full on PhD in this guy’s character arc actually

Did he need more screen time? Heh. Uh. Objectively NO. But also this amount of page time has allowed us to learn so much about his character complexities?? Like I’m torn between missing the other characters and eating up his character arc. Currently I’m gonna hope book 10 expands the other characters more bc I need more of them and 9.5 can feed my Keefe brain

Would I hit him with a golf cart? Listen my friend made this bingo game (hi Bods, if you’re reading this) and I know exactly what the actual intention was behind this square. But like. I want to slightly run into him with a golf cart. Just enough to slightly injure him and make him rethink his life choices (affectionate) (actually in the words of@phtalogreenpoison “I’d like to microwave Keefe. Just shortly”)

Does he need therapy? OH MY GOSH YES. I have thought this about other characters but SPECIFICALLY KEEFE HOLY GUACAMOLE GET THAT GUY THERAPY

Is he insane? Define insane. But I love him anyway (what is going on in his head half the time 😭)

Am I rotating him in my head 24/7? WELL YOU’VE READ THE POST WHAT DO YOU THINK

Do I have so many headcanons? Oh you guys don’t know the half of it. I have. So. Many. SO MANY

Is he wasted potential? Uhhhh I have too many thoughts on this to actually put it on this post. Genuinely love what Shannon’s doing with his character, like I said. But at some point she needs to. Address the things. Or he just becomes a guy with all these complications introduced that just kinda sit there and continue to change and grow and Keefe is the complex character to end all complex characters but Shannon you need to DO SOMETHING WITH THE MASTERPIECE OF A CHARACTER THAT YOU HAVE CREATED

The amount of bingos holy moly

Anyway

Keefe means a lot to me

Thanks for the ask anon!

[misspermitted]

A lot of talk about infodumping as a love language on my feed recently and having the ‘tism and this blog I naturally want to contribute with my experience.

A lot of people are saying they infodump as a way to share their joy with others, which isn’t really why I do it. But when I think about how I feel when my ND friends infodump on me, I do share their joy. So maybe that is where the ND urge to infodump comes from, and I’ve just been conditioned for so long that infodumping is bad and no one enjoys it, that I can’t view it as sharing joy.

Why I Infodump

For me infodumping is a love language primarily because when I do it I feel safe with someone. I’ve been continuously shamed into thinking my passion is an inconvenience of embarrassing, and so I become very quiet in most social situations. When I infodump it means I feel like the person won’t judge me.

Usually the first time I infodump on someone it’s a conscious choice, and I only do it a little to test the waters. If the person immediately shames me or tries to shut me up, I put it in my head to never unmask around them and usually don’t put a lot of effort into the acquaintance from there on out.

(I know there has also been a lot of talk about NT and ND people trying to bridge communication gaps, and my immediate detachment from people who won’t engage with infodumping is probably not healthy for that. At the same time, while I respect people’s efforts to have NT friends and such, that’s their choice, not mine. Friendships are where I broaden my opinions and empathy in a safe and happy space, not where I combat ableism and prejudice. I don’t have the mental stability for that atm.)

How I Feel When ND Friends Infodump On Me

With my ND friends, I actively try to encourage them to infodump. My personal reason for this is because I really enjoy it, I feed off other peoples excitement (because my ADHD brain cannot produce its own dopamine apparently) so I find it just as spoon-rejuvenating as my own special interests. I also just love learning new things.

However, on the friendship side of things, I really like knowing someone is comfortable enough with me to share their interests. It makes me so mad when my ND friends apologise for infodumping because you shouldn’t have to apologise for being you! Im not mad at them, I’m mad that people make us feel embarrassed about who we are and being excited. Sometimes listening to my ND friends infodump is when I mask the most tbh. I try to communicate to them clearly through questions and facial expressions that I am also excited about their interest, when I don’t usually ask questions and have resting autism face.

I also always feel so much more deeply connected with a friend knowing about their interests and what makes them happy or angry than things like their childhood school or favourite colour. I also find sometimes with ND friends we infodump all our trauma on each other straight away, which means I know way way too much about them already haha

(I also wanna say that infodumping trauma is a bit different for me than when someone trauma dumps. For me the main difference between the two is that trauma dumping becomes something you have to emotionally support the person through, whereas infodumping trauma is the person telling you everything they’ve figured out about themselves and how they understand it. Trauma dumping is very draining for me, it feels like I’m holding all the trauma afterwards and it’s usually very feelings and emotions heavy. Infodumping trauma is like “this is everything I’ve read about it what I experienced and this is how I’m struggling to intellectualise it.” And then usually I respond with a similar experience I had and things I read and this goes on for hours.)

[endlessthxxghts]

Goodbye, 2023.. Hello, 2024!🥂

Hello, beautiful people.💚 2023 is now coming to an end, and although there is so much I have to say about these past 12 months at a personal level, I’ll try to keep it brief (in roughly 800 words LMAO) and stick to our beautiful fandom world I love so dearly. 

I am absolutely not new to reading fan fiction—to reading all these fucking amazing stories that keep my hyperfixations well-fed😅 As a matter of fact, for the majority of this year, that’s what my tumblr consisted of—purely reading😅 

What I am new to, however, is actually contributing to this beautiful fandom. I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve written a few tiny stories for myself in the past. I just never would’ve thought—on one random day in September—that I would post them for the world, and I never would’ve thought that they were good enough to be loved by so many of you. It baffles me—still, after every new story I’ve put out, I still get surprised and feel a tremendous amount of gratitude for the love you guys give to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I’m learning to love myself more and more every single day, and in that, I’m learning to appreciate my abilities. To appreciate the skill that I’ve honed, and in doing so, I want to give back in the way that I can—through writing stories that put the biggest of smiles on our faces that our cheeks hurt, through writing stories that we can see a figment of ourselves in it, through writing stories that make us feel a plethora of emotions but ultimately make us feel loved.

I don’t mention this often, but I am physically disabled, and because of that, I have to physically rely on another person to help me with everything—showering, feeding me, using the restroom, etc. Ever since I could remember, I vowed that I would give back to everyone in the only way I can: through my verbal abilities (hence why my career goal is to become a clinical psychologist💚), and—naturally because of that—through my writing abilities. My only hope in this world is that I can provide others with the warm and welcome feeling that I’ve been surrounded by all my life, even if I can’t take any action to do so. I’ll always find a way. 

But okay, I digress (this is me keeping it brief, I apologize). I also wanted to take a moment to specifically say thank you to those who read my work. I’ve only been posting and writing for you guys since late September—only a little over three months!—and I have nearly 800 of you constantly cheering me on and providing me with the sweetest of support I thought could never exist for someone like me. I seriously wouldn’t be here without you guys. You seriously have no clue what your words do to me; they are my driving force, the fuel that keeps me going, the hugs I need when a story gets a little too complicated for my easily-frustrated brain because I just want it to be perfect for you. Thank you. With my entire heart, my entire soul, my entire existence: thank you. I can’t wait to see where 2024 takes us. I love you all. So much. 

And I want to give a special special thank you to a few people—whether we message each other, or we just constantly have given each other unconditional support, or simply I just admire and am inspired by you—who mean so much to me. Your support and guidance as I began my journey is irreplaceable. I’ve learned so much from each of you in our own unique way, and I’m inexplicably excited to enter 2024 with you guys by my side. I’m truly honored to be able to know you, even if it is solely online. @katiexpunk @janaispunk @toxicanonymity @bearsbeetsbeskar @farmerlarrry @joels-shitty-puns @tightjeansjavi @mandoisapunk — All my love to you beautiful people, and I can’t wait to continue being one of your loudest cheerleaders throughout 2024.

And to @javierpena-inatacvest… I don’t know what I was expecting out of making my presence more known on this lil platform, but I definitely wasn’t expecting to make a best friend out of this. And I definitely wasn’t expecting a lifelong best friend, at that. You don’t know this, but you entered my life at a time that I was struggling. There was something I was missing… something I was needing. Little did I know, that something was you, and I’m endlessly grateful. Your existence in my life is truly one that is irreplaceable. I don’t know what I did to be so lucky—but whatever God or all-knowing being did this, I’ll be giving them offerings now and until the day I die. Thank you for letting me in, and thank you for letting my crazy ass be a part of your journey. I love you, friend.🌚💚

Happy 2024, everyone!! This will be our year for prosperity in every aspect of  our lives. I just know it. 

Endlessly yours, L. 💚

[koko-doodle]

Another AU? I need to stop.

Modern Medieval Monster Mash Up

Okay, this has been stuck in my head for two weeks and I can’t get it out so if I write it down then maybe my brain won’t be obsessing over it when I’m trying to sleep!

General idea is basically FNAF x Undertale x Nimona x DND.

*cue dramatic lighting and curtains*

Cut to an opening scene where monsters and humans lived in the same land but segregated away from each other by preference. Monsters decide after being mistreated at every interaction that they are superior beings and begin enslaving humanity. Enter in the brave knights who rescue the enslaved and fight back to protect all humans. After years of war the humans create an powerful spell that casts all the monsters into a deep pit, not allowing any to escape the barrier around the top.

Fast forward a few centuries and the magic sealing the monsters in the pit is weak and when discovered by said monsters, they travel to the surface to wreak havoc, steal supplies/tech, and capture humans to bring them down to the pit as slaves. Although it is only a few groups of extremist/vengeful monsters that terrorize the humans, most have become accustomed to their life and don’t desire revenge for being locked away (monsters live twice as long as humans). The humans however, have been taught the gruesome history of the war and have done everything to have the upper hand should another war ensue. There is no such thing as good monsters.

And now you enter the story. A young knight who has fought many battles with monsters and often assist in supply deliveries between cities.

One night, an ambush happens on your route and you do everything you can to stop them from stealing the cargo but you are bitten by something venomous and decide to fight with all you have left while the others escape, knowing you are dead anyway. You defeat the monsters and sit peacefully as you bleed from wounds and take in what you believe to be your final breaths but as the world fades, a figure approaches.

Startled awake, you find yourself in modern but vintage style home, dressed in different clothing, and no signs of any wounds. After a confrontational discussion, you learn that a vampire decided to “save” you and make you his servant/pet, turning you into a vampire to do so. However, you won’t become a full vampire without drinking human blood first.

The vampire is Moon and he lives there with his demon brother Sun, (their parents were pure bloods, a demon x vampire hybrid). Moon is more vampire than demon, and Sun is more demon than vampire.

You struggle with your new life because you are trying to learn to cope with the fact that you are no longer human, that everything you were taught about monsters was wrong, and that you might actually be falling in love with your captors. Moon often tries to get you to drink human blood but you refuse and Sun is always there to protect you when Moon gets “impatient “, you feed on their blood to survive but it only lasts for so long.

What does the future hold for you?

[umemiyan]

ROBIN!!! im absolutely in LOVE with postmortem/postpartum, its such a good fic and its so refreshing honestly to see such a creative, interesting concept be explored especially with so much care and love. i said this in my tags but thats rly what fanfic is all about, EXPLORING!!! exploring canon, exploring characters, putting them in new situations and seeing what happens. i love love love it. and seeing gojo in such a brand new, vulnerable light, with both him and reader navigating life as a disabled-coded person following his death and resurrection, is so fascinating. and when he did the divine dogs hand motion to megumi i literally almost cried. if its ok with u, i had a couple questions!!!

what was reader before the incident? a teacher at jujutsu high? just a friend to satoru? im interested in what role they played prior to everything that happened. obviously megumi knew reader, but im curious what that relationship is!!

how with it is satoru? reader had to pick out his outfit and bathe and feed him, we’ve seen that much, but is he able to dress himself? how well does he move - walking and such? does reader always have to help feed him or was that just a one time occurrence to encourage him to eat?

SORRY if im bombarding you with too many questions, i just love this concept so much and im so fascinated with it 🤍🤍🤍

AH HELLO!!!!!!! omg i saw your wonderful tags earlier while i was working and i was just so giddy to read them!!!! thank you so much 💕 i really am enjoying exploring this story and am happy that others are as well 🥹 i felt like maybe the whole thing would just be something only i would be interested in LOL which would’ve been totally fine tbh but i’m thrilled to see it resonating with other people!!

no worries about asking questions at all! thank you for doing so! i realize some things have been rather vague thus far and probably have a few people wondering what the deal is lol

more details will be revealed somewhat soon in the story i suppose, but so far my intention has been for reader to be a sorcerer—not necessarily a teacher, but many sorcerers do of course tend to engage with the school and its students, so that’s where the familiarity comes from. it will also be implied that they and gojo were either classmates or otherwise very close in age during school (that’s a specific detail i haven’t exactly landed on yet lol)

as for satoru, i’ve honestly been playing it a little loose when it comes to his condition thus far, though i would like to perhaps refine some of these details in my mind. however, it’s purposefully meant to come across a bit wishy-washy since it’s truly something that everyone is learning as they go along. in my mind, the time since satoru’s revival/awakening has really not been long at all—maybe two weeks at the most. new things are being unearthed every day.

however!! he is very much inspired by brain injury patients as well as autistic individuals with higher support needs (somewhere in between levels 2 and 3). it’s a bit of a concoction of both (as well as tidbits of other things) based on my own observations and research rather than something that’s more clearly defined as being coded as one or the other, especially since what happened to him was… not normal LMAO so there are some supernatural aspects as well that sort of make it its own /thing/

his motor functions are pretty normal for the most part aside from perhaps the occasional coordination issue, though i almost imagine that his six eyes/powers are automatically trying to overcompensate for such things?? which would in turn cause extra fatigue at the end of the day. but tbh that’s something i’m going to put more thought into!!

one of his biggest issues is with executive function/initiating tasks and making decisions. the cognitive impairments are what require reader’s prompting and assistance a lot of the time. however, reader is also potentially overcompensating (or lacking) in some areas as well simply because they haven’t been able to accurately gauge all of satoru’s capabilities yet and are overall not used to caring for someone at this level.

so while he is actually physically able to perform most tasks, the cognitive function isn’t quite there, nor are the memories on how to engage in certain tasks (probably mostly those with more steps/complications) without prompting and reminders. it can take his brain a little bit longer to calculate and process several things.

i just have this image in my head of reader pulling underwear over their pants or something while trying to demonstrate to him how to get dressed without having to fully intervene LMFAO since they are trying to maintain some modesty/distance at the moment. which… probably won’t last for long tbh because it’s not quite practical at this stage.

but there is maybe a little room for neurological improvement on his end! however, it is not my goal for the story to see that he is “fixed” or anything of the sort, nor do i want it to diminish his person. it’s a balancing act!

sorry i just rambled a lot skdjsjsnshdudidie but once again, thank you so much for reading and asking!!! discussions like these really help me understand my thoughts a lot better and i really enjoy hearing yours as well! it certainly helps keep the inspiration flowing rather than all of these little things getting trapped up in my mind lol 💖

[keelifallen]

uhm can i ask how you got so good at character likeness? as in how do u practise/what steps do you take?

Omg?! Thank you!!! I’m still asking other people for the same advice, I don’t know how I’m on the other side of this question.

My explanation might not answer ur question properly, or even be comprehensible but I’ll do my best

Learning about your subject is the best way to understand how to draw it. So here some thoughts on how to do that

Blur your eyes when looking at your reference. What things that pop out the most?

Study different angles of their face

What makes them unique to others?

Look at different expressions they make

Is there a way they usually present themselves?

It’s easier if you know how to draw anatomically correct, or even just believable characters. And by that, I don’t mean muscles and bones. I mean placement and perspective.

But everybody starts somewhere. If you don’t know how to do that it’s ok. I didn’t know jack squat when I started, and I’ve learned a lot since then.

For starters, everyone has different strengths and weaknesses, so what applies to me may not apply to you. Seeing as I don’t know where ur at, I can’t help you with specifics

how do i practice?

Answer: Honestly I don’t. Either that, or all my work is practice. If I’m not feeling super involved, but still want to draw I’ll do “warmups” but it’s just me doing low effort work.

what steps do I take?

I have good Pinterest algorithm, so when I like a character, their pictures will flood my feed. When I see an image that looks, for a lack of a better word “catchy” I’ll screenshot it.

It usually has a well defined light source shadows lines etc. and I don’t even have to draw it (I try to though) but even if I just look at it for a while, I can visually break it down to simple shapes/shadows.

That helps me to understand the picture for what it actually is, and not what I think it looks like. 5 times out of 10, I do end up drawing what I screenshot. But I don’t always post it. Sometimes it turns out bad, sometimes I just don’t feel like completing it. And that’s fine :) having fun is the best motivation to keep going, and getting better.

When I do post art, it can vary from a cartoonish line art, to ¿almost? Realistic. But in both situations I’m trying to simplify my subject into the most simple form.

This isn’t a great example but you get the idea

For my line art, I:

keep the shapes, basic, big and blocky. Just so I have an idea of where everything is. if things get too confusing, you can honestly just make a silhouette and go from there. REMEMBER TO KEEP IS SIMPLE, DO NOT GET CAUGHT IN THE DETAILS you can do that later

Once you’re done with the VERY LARGE SHAPES, then map out the features. Let it look ugly cuz heaven knows it will be. And that’s ok too. You just gotta get it down.

Then focus on perspective. Like if his head is facing right, the outside corner of his eye will look round instead of sharp. And in his nose will be touching/covering part of his eye

Then, lastly, and most importantly look at the shadows. Your lines on the line art will look heaviest where the shadow is the darkest 

And remember, the brain will fill in information, so just focus on the shadows. Look at kaz’s hair. I have a couple triangles to show the gaps. I hardly even touched the top. I only drew the bottom of his nose, but you know the whole nose is there

+Never underestimate the power of multiple references.

OH!!! I’m revising my previous statement, this is the most important rule. The non-conventional features are what make or break your character. Don’t try to avoid them, make them work with your subject.

If you don’t draw them, your style might turn out looking like the “anime” style new artist try to avoid.

And if your wanting to go more realistic there are no lines. The only way to tell anything apart is value.

Not saying this is realistic, but all the “lines” are actually just value contrasting between shadow and highlights. So generally the only things that should look dark have the most depth.

And then there’s the whole deal with expressions. They have a huge part to play in character likeness. If you know how a face functions, you can add so much nuance to your art. But I’m just starting to learn that so I can’t help you yet.

Any way GOOD LUCK!!!! GO FORTH AND DRAW

[system-of-a-feather]

don’t really know how to phrase this tbh, but do you have any advice for improving “awareness” (in quotes bc it’s close to what I mean, but brain is too foggy to figure out a more specific word/phrase)??

I’m the primary host for us, and I really struggle to recognize a) when others are in or near the front with me, b) when another part is exerting passive influence, and c) who other parts (especially in/near the front) are. everything asides from full possessive switches always feels very blurry and I have a hard time distinguishing myself from the other parts. I think this is in part due to the way that our DID hides itself and our amnesia (by giving me partial/vague memories and making it feel like I was the one active in them) but it makes recalling things very confusing (and pretty distressing if I realize that I wasn’t in the front for as long as I thought I was), especially when we’ve had non-possessive switches and/or co-con and/or passive influence.

so far, the others are helping me practice recognizing co-consciousness and passive influence by giving me a “nudge” at which point I’m supposed to try to identify who is in/near the front with me. but it’s still a big struggle and it’s been really frustrating, so I’m looking for suggestions on improving that skill, hopefully to a point where I don’t need to be promoted to realize that I’m not alone in the front.

and you’re a blog that we generally trust for info, so do you have any pointers?? (or do you know of anyone else who might be able to help??)

(~ @wondering-phenomenon)

I am assuming you mean "prompted" not promoted XD

I will be honest, our system is considerably "overt" and we have primarily possessive switches (even when we co-con / co-front) and so this realm of things is one aspect we don't have too huge experience with compared to systems that have it as their main form of switches. I'm not 100% sure what kind of switches they tend to have but I know they've talked on similar issues, so I'm gonna @l0st-identity to see if they want to / have anything to say on this / have any other blogs to redirect towards.

With that said, a lot of my experience with this comes from within our subsystem which deals with more non-possessive switches and a lot more confusion of parts (and parts assuming themselves to be other parts), which while different, is a similar frame work from MY experience that I'm using to suggest some things that might help.

One thing that has helped me in identifying me VS not me when parts are similar is to change perspective a bit. Rather than trying to be aware of when "I am not me", try to be more conscientious of when you ARE you - and by that, I mean answering the question of what situations and traits and behaviors make you feel the most you. You can approach this in a "what makes me who I am, how would I describe myself" manner if that's easier (which it tends to be for white and western (/neutral) cultures - if so then its a good place to start, the question is hard to answer so meet yourself where you are) but I think its best done by focusing on just how you feel when operating in the world and learning the general resting state / vibe that "you" settle in. I personally find labels and attaching descriptive labels to an identity tends to be limited in the long run, but thats more so a philosophical ideal preference on my end.

The better you know who YOU are as a part, the easier it is to tell when something isn't quite right. Sometimes if you are struggling in figuring this out, if you have a close person around you who you trust, you can also ask them for feed back and to keep an eye out to help point out things that might be different between parts and/or prompt you to just check in with yourself.

Additionally, its less long term helpful and maybe not hte most productive to long term healing in terms of DID but it can be helpful in the getting through the early stages of DID, which is to just think of things that you know you are ABSOLUTELY not, things you do not at all see yourself doing, and locating the oddities and incongruence between how you see yourself and some of your behaviors in the past to kind of see if there are any odd trends that stick out. It might results in an increase of tension between parts and alter differentiation, but in my experience, to get through the stabilization phase, alter differentiation and some level of tension pulling tends to be part of the process.

Additionally, you can also ask if other parts in the system that are more familiar / better at identifying this could write down some notes and pointers as to how they can tell next time they are out.

Your own parts are often some of your best teachers in my experience.

I had another in mind but I forgot it (honestly probably a few others XD I'm getting tired fight me /lh /j)

Also its kinda silly, but a thing I just do regularly throughout the day as a system that tends to usually have a pretty high co-fronting / co-conning ability is that sometimes I just internally call out and just wait to see if I hear back from anyone.

At this point when it comes to driving (I'm honestly easily stressed by driving due to OCD and dissociation, but at this point basically everyone elsei n the system is fine driving or enjoys it) I call out just about everytime "OK whose gonna drive" and see who speaks back.

Not always will parts respond, especially earlier in recovery and healing and communication work, but its always worth a try in my experience

OH I REMEMBERED IT

It sounds kinda silly as well, but if you notice something feeling off, sometimes I find myself "zoned out" and then as I hear whatever part is in the front wondering if they are me, I click back in and go "WAIT A MINUTE IM ME" and I don't really know if theres any advice I could give REGARDING that but it is a relevant point that might have something to it XD

Oh and in the end of it, per my usual motto, when it comes down to DID, try not to stress too much about figuring things out. Unless people are getting hurt or drastic issues are coming out in the lost time / time you aren't fronting, its not something that needs to be blown up and awareness will general build with time. It's not something you need to focus too much on to be able to slowly develop. As long as you intend to reach out and connect and try to be aware, that should be more than enough to keep you on a good track to increasing awareness as it is. Being kind to yourself and lowering your stress levels to the best of your ability can help a lot in lessening confusing symptoms cause ironically being stressed out makes you dissociated which makes both you and your symptoms more confused / confusing.