#but i just woke up now and it’s 1 am…

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

hii i was wondering if you could do logan with reader that owns a cat and the cat acts JUST LIKE HIM and he cant stand it until reader points it out. thank you!!!!

I loved this request! I have my own little cat, so I wanted this to be as well written as possible. I'm sorry it took so long to be posted. I hope you like it! If you do, please like, comment, and reblog! It really helps me with motivation to keep posting on here <3

This is my kitten rocket 🤭

Logan was never afraid to meet anyone in your life. He had met your friends and family; he met your colleagues and even your old roommate, but for some reason, everyone is telling him he should be afraid to meet your cat.

Logan can remember every warning he got from the people in your life when they found out he hadn't met your cat yet. "Oh, that's her baby" "Oh he has brought a lot of joy into her life since she found him, he really is her number one" "That cat hates anyone that comes over-I swear it's crazy" "Her cat is just very territorial, very protective" "Make sure you wear shoes, he goes for the toes."

He scoffed at these warnings, it's still just a cat. He wanted your cat to like him, of course he did but he also wasn't afraid to meet the damn thing. He knew you loved you cat, that was your baby, and you took care of him more than you took care of yourself something Logan hated, but he didn't think it mattered what a cat thought of him.

You usually would stay at his place after a night out, but for the past few dates, you two went back to your place instead. It wasn't a big deal, but you were worried for how your cat would react to a strange man coming into his territory. "He just doesn't like people Lo', I don't want him to lash out at you." He could hear in your voice how worried you truly were, and he tried his best to reassure you that the cat and him would get along just fine.

He lied to you. Logan can't stand that fucking cat and that cat has it out for him too. The first night the cat didn't even come out of hiding, it completely broke your heart and Logan ended up leaving a bit earlier than planned because you were worried for your cat's wellbeing, as he was leaving he heard you cooing at the cat calling him your baby and your handsome man and though he'd never admit it aloud a twinge of jealous did echo through Logan's chest. The next night the cat did come out of hiding, just so he could attack Logan's legs. When Logan didn't kick him across the room like he wanted to you came and put the cat in your bedroom. "I am so sorry!! Are you okay??" You exclaimed while you closed the door to your room before trying to check on his scratches even though they healed before you could. He grumbled... sort of whined a bit too, and honestly, he was enjoying the attention, so maybe he milked the injury? Sue him.

What really pushed him over the edge was your cat literally pushing him over the edge. It was around 1 in the morning, and you had just fallen asleep. Logan was holding you in his arms and trying his best to fall asleep himself when the door to your bedroom creaked open. Logan, now fully awake, sits up, trying not to disturb you and is greeted with a sharp meow and sharp little claws to the stomach. "Mother fucker" Logan mumbled under his breath as he pushed the cat off of him, "why are you even in here?" he asked quietly so he wouldn't wake you but sharply enough to try and scare the cat away. The cat meowed louder than before as if he was arguing back and went to lay on your chest, purring as he curled himself into a ball. Logan was pissed but he tried to stay cool and just ignore the cat, then around 4 in the morning, Logan was awoken to his body meeting your bedroom floor. When he stood up, he looked at the bed and saw your fucking cat in his spot. "That's it." Logan had enough and grabbed a blanket before going to the couch.

You woke him up hours later, very confused as to why he was on the couch and was replaced by a cat in the middle of the night. "Baby?" You asked softly, handing him his cup of coffee, "don't. Just don't." He grumbles and sips his coffee, sending your cat a glare as he walks around smugged.

Logan refuses to lose against a damn cat!

It's just a stupid cat, not even 4 months old yet. So why was he letting its behavior get to him so much? Because it was your cat, and even if Logan wasn't ready to admit it yet he really did love you and for some reason you loved that asshole cat more than the world so for fuck sake that cat will like him even if it is the last thing he does in his very long life.

Honestly, it was truly ironic if Logan took the time to think about it. Your cat was a grump. He didn't want people around unless he allowed them to be around, and even then, he wanted his distance. But not when it came to you. When you were around, that cat was glued to you and had the loudest purr Logan had ever heard, and your cat really did get protective of you. It was something Logan had never seen before. Usually, cats don't care, but if you came home upset, the cat wouldn't settle down until you did, too. If he took the time to really think about it, maybe he could see the resemblance the cat shared with another grump you have allowed into your life that you loved more than the world.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

[girliism]

you don’t when it happened but you knew you felt it. patrick falling out of love with you, after twelve long years of marriage. but what had caused it? was it when you gave birth to your son? did he now find your body unattractive? couldn’t have been that, he made sure to tell you how beautiful you were, he worshiped you now no less than he did before, even giving you a daughter two years later. was it when you asked him to retire after he lost the us opening? “pat, maybe it’s time-” patrick stood up abruptly. “no. i’m not retiring, not yet, i still have one good season left in me.” or maybe it was when he started to rekindle with his recently divorced old girlfriend. “tashi said she’d coach me.” patrick said. you didn’t know how to feel as you watched him dry himself off. tashi the gorgeous ex girlfriend that he had weird history with. “oh… tashi.” patrick gave you that look he often gave your son when he was unimpressed with his goofing around during practice. “it’s not like that.” no, it was before that, when him forgetting little things like to kiss you goodbye when he left in the morning, or how he stopped sending you a good night message when he wouldn’t be home in time, turned into him forgetting your wedding anniversary.

“my parents have the kids tonight so it’ll be just us.” you laying on the massage table next to your best friend. the whole day was spent getting your hair and nails done, your body fully waxed and now massaged. “are you gonna do the steak and potatoes or the alfredo?” you hummed thinking. “probably the steak, i just bought this wine that’ll be perfect for it.” so you spent hours making steak just how he liked it, roasting potatoes so they were that perfectly crispy but not burnt. you put on a new dress and wore that perfume he loved, only to wait hours for him to get home. it was 1 am. you scraped your fork back and forth on your empty plate as you stared at the clock. 1:01 am. 29 minutes late patrick stumbled in. drunk. “where were you?” your voice was soft as you watched patrick trip over his own feet. “shit! fucking scared me.” patrick laughed, taking in your appearance. “why are you so dressed up?” you stared blankly at him. “do you what today is?” there’s no way he could have forgotten. right? “saturday.” “the date, patrick, what’s the date.” you were practically begging him to remember. patrick closed his eyes for a second trying to get his half drunk mind to remember. “it’s uh. fuck, the 15th it’s the 15th.” “of may patrick!” you yell at him, trying to hide the fact you were about to cry. you could tell when he finally understood. patrick’s head fell and a deep sigh left him. “shit, baby i’m so sorry” you turned away from him. “the guys, they wanted to get drinks after practice and i lost track of time.” patrick whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist dropping kisses on your shoulder. but he didn’t just forget cause he was out with friends. you thought back on the whole day, how no flowers greeted you when you woke up like usual, or how he didn’t call you to tell you something random that happened at your wedding that you surely forgot but he didn’t cause that day was on repeat in his mind. “there’s food on the table.” you walked away from him, wiping the tears that were falling fast.

the sound of padded feet running down the hall snaps you back to the present as you tear your eyes away from your wedding ring. “mommy, can we make pizza now.” your daughter plopped her little body next to you on the bed. sometimes you wonder if your genes even put up a fight as you stare down at the little girl who looked exactly like her father. “yeah, go grab your brother and i’ll meet you down stairs.” you tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, watching her running out the room. it was friday, and the kids have been begging for a family pizza making night and patrick finally had an off day. “have you seen my watch, the gold one?” patrick rushes around the room dressed oddly nice. “where are you going?” patrick freezes in the hall. “to uh meet with tashi, she wants us to look over some prints for a campaign.” tashi. “but, tonight we’re supposed to be making pizza, it’s literally all the kids have been asking me about.” you followed patrick to the front door. “i’m really sorry honey, but these prints they have to go out at a certain time and tashi she wants us to look over them together.” it was like that now a days, if tashi called patrick came running. “but daddy, it’s pizza night.” your daughter pouted, dressed up in a little chef outfit. “i know, princess and daddy is very sorry, wait for me a bedtime, i’ll read to you tonight.” your daughter nod saying goodbye before running back into the kitchen. “i want be long.” “ok, i love yo-” the door was slammed.

patrick wasn’t back by bedtime. “he probably just got caught up baby, he’ll read to you next time.” you had to explain to your daughter. you got a sick wave of deja vu siting there at the dinner table. waiting, waiting, and waiting. when patrick got home the house was dark and the stairs creaked as he crept up them. “how was it.” patrick jumped a little, not expecting to see you just sitting there. “fine.” patrick cleared his throat walking into the walk in closet. you smelt it in the air when he walked past. her perfume. it wasn’t faint either, it was as if he rolled around in it. “you smell like her.” patrick let out a sigh walking right past to the bathroom. “we hugged goodbye.” he was hiding something, you could see it in his desperation to get away from you. “did you fuck her?” time froze for a second, the only sounds being the breathing coming from you and patrick. “what?” “did you fuck her, did you have sex with tashi.” you weren’t backing off. “wh-why would i do that? you, you’re crazy.” you weren’t. “answer the question patrick.” tears welled up in your eyes, voice cracking, but you refused to cry. “just fucking answer me.” your voice was loud but still low enough not to wake the kids. patrick squeezed his eyes shut, pinching his nose bridge in annoyance. “i’m not gonna answer such a stupid fucking question.” you huffed. “fine, then do you still love me?” please just say yes and tell me in being paranoid. you thought, picking at the skin of your finger nail. patrick turned to face for the first time since he got back. “of course i do.” the tears you were holding back finally slip when patrick places his hands on your cheeks. you felt that the sliver band that usually rest on his ring finger wasn’t there. you pulled his hand from your cheek stroking over the empty spot. “love.” patrick whispered. “wait wait, please i can explain. it was just this one time, it ment nothing, i love you, please, i do i love you.” the fear of losing you was setting in and patrick’s eyes were started getting watery. you sighed, teary eyed and red nosed. “i really wish you didn’t sound like you were trying to convince yourself of that.” patrick looked at you with wet eyes. “baby.” you pulled your hands out of his and walked out of the room.

(why i’m sad like i didn’t just write this.)

[hopelesswrites]

Book Club 3

Part 1 Part 2

Joseph Quinn X Fem!Reader

-Your book club best friend flakes on helping you move, but sends the son she's been trying to set you up with

-

It had been almost a week, and you could not forget Joe like you did the last time. His face kept flashing in your mind like a bad nightmare. You went to sleep over analysing your last conversation.

It didn’t help that Joe was becoming a bigger face in the media, you saw him everywhere. That was also added to the list of reasons why you couldn’t date Joe, how were you going to date the hottest new actor right now. The thought of people talking about you online just through association was mortifying.

It’s as if the more you told yourself no, the more you wanted him. It was a cruel manipulative trick your brain was playing on you, you felt deceived by your own brain.

On top of all this dreadful thinking you also were expected to move flats this weekend. Not a single box had been packed. You had sent Mary a small text earlier that morning fussing about your stressful weekend ahead and she promised to come around and help you sort your stuff into boxes on the Saturday.

-

Another sleepless night of haunting images of Joe’s gorgeous face left you groggy the next morning. You inspected the place; your flatmate had left you alone for the awkward move out. This tenancy wasn’t the easiest and you both were waiting for your time to find your own place.

Slowly you woke up with a cup of coffee, leisurely flipping through books you easily collected in your short time here to put away when you had more energy. A knock at the door had you perking up, Mary said bright and early but you didn’t think she meant first light (it was 11am).

You called out a quick ‘coming’ before dropping the books gently down in the box, you’ll play tetris with them later.

You shuffled over to the door not worried about being in your pyjamas and slippers around Mary, opening the door without a second thought. Stood there was Joe, you looked around him confused, heat rising to your ears at the realization of what is happening here.

“Mums sent me to help” Joe spoke, equally as awkward.

“She get caught up?” You ask, stepping aside to let Joe in.

“So she says” Joe replied a weak laugh punctuating his statement.

You let out a long sigh, “I swear, I love her so much, but she’s ridiculous”

“you’ve got to get a boyfriend, so she’ll stop” Joe joked, stepping inside and toeing off his shoes.

You scoff, “Why do I have to? You get a girlfriend”

“I’m trying” Joe looked around your living room at the empty boxes you had splayed out.

“How much are you moving?” He asked, picking up one of the books you had just been looking at and flipping it over to read the back.

“Bedroom and most kitchen stuff” You answered, watching him carefully. You already felt weird about having him in your home, but now he’ll be going through your stuff? Mary had officially crossed a line.

“Right then, where should we start?” Joe clapped his hands, clearly done with the small talk.

You directed Joe to the kitchen where you instructed him to pack up all the pots and pans, as well as the plates, bowls and cups. In your bedroom you folded your clothes neatly into your one large suitcase and filled boxes with books. It was peaceful and far less anxiety inducing having Joe busy in the kitchen. The sound of pans clashing together in boxes and crockery being wrapped up filled your ears and you deemed it safe to open your drawer of delicates. Humming to yourself you neatly organised sets of lacy underwear and bras that barely get to see the light of day, not noticing the pause on pots and pans clashing and the shuffling of feet approaching your room.

“Am I doing the glassware as-“

“Fuck Joe!” You cried, stuffing the thong you were holding back into its drawer and slamming it shut.

“Sorry” Joe mumbled looking down at his feet, a teasing smirk on his face. You chose to ignore it.

“Glassware?” He tried again.

“Um, only the wine glasses” You sighed, following him out to the kitchen. You observed the work he had done, almost all of it was in its respective box now.

“You can probably go after that; I can handle the rest.”

You were far from calm now, utterly mortified having the man you have just accepted you now fancy see your lacy underwear. Mary had made a hard task more difficult by sending Joe here and you were ready to be done with him.

“I thought I was taking it all over to your new flat?” Joe asked confused. He was bent down, organising a box giving you the best view of his ass. Why did he have such a nice ass?

“That’s fine, ill get an uber XL”

Joe stood up and faced you, hands on his hips. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll never mention what I just saw, we can finish this job together and get you moved in”

You stared at him for a moment, analysing the situation.

“Come on, what’s next? I’ll do the books.”

Books was dangerous, books were in your room, meaning Joe would have to pack alongside you, and your underwear drawer.

You led him to your bookshelf with two empty boxes. “Just stack them as tightly as possible”

Before opening up the drawer you were previously packing you looked over to make sure Joe was occupied on his own side of the room. You made quick work of more embarrassing things to pack and moved onto the rest of your clothes, your suitcase slowly filling up.

“Have you read this one?” Joe asked holding up a book for you to see.

“Yes” you answered shortly.

“How about this one?” Another book was held up in the air.

“Yep”

You watched him put it in the box and pick up another one, this one displaying a large image of a mans naked torso.

“Yes, I’ve read that one too” you spoke before he could hold up the book.

Joe chuckled, placing it in the box with the others. “For the book club?”

“Not those ones” you answered, heat rising to your face, you didn’t need to be having this conversation with Joe right now.

“I bet mum would like that one, what was it called? Dark Passion”

“Your mums not keen on romance”

Joe faced you a shocked look on his face, “That was a romance? Could have fooled me, looked a bit more like a smut book”

You laughed at his dramatics “There’s elements of romance in there”

“Barely” Joe responded quietly, his distant tone catching your attention. You looked over to see him immersed in a page you knew, just from the place in the book, was particularly nasty.

“Hey! Stop that!” You scolded, trying to snatch the book out of his hands but he turned away, holding the book in the air as he continued to read.

“His chain fell above her face, rocking back and forth as his thrusts grew harder and faster” Joe stopped, looking over to you “Jesus Christ, id hope my mum wasn’t reading this”

“Close the book please” You whined, ready to wrap the scarf you were holding around Joes neck and end your own suffering.

“Okay, sorry” Joe chuckled to himself, putting it back in the box.

The next hour consisted of you working around Joe to pack the rest of your belongings. You filled his car with your many boxes and did a final sweep of the flat you were so happy to be leaving.

“You didn’t leave your flatmate much to cook with” Joe said, doing his own rounds of the space for anything he may have forgotten.

“Good, she doesn’t deserve it” You scoffed, taking your final bag of clothes and linen and making your way to the door.

“Not a great first flat share experience then?” Joe asked, following you out to his car. You shoved the last bag in the back seat, with a bit of a struggle, and joined him in the car.

“It was an arrangement made out of desperation” You answered.

Joe nodded in understanding and began the drive to your new flat. You had moved a little further out of the city this time, purely due to affordability. One bad flat share does leave a person scarred and the idea of another one didn’t sound all that exciting. You figured this would be the perfect opportunity to start your own little life here in London.

Your new place was a small run down one bedroom unit in a quiet part of town. Joe described it as a retirement village and assured you it was safe and quiet.

“I live pretty close by” Joe added as he was placing a light box in your arms to walk up the two flights of stairs.

Just your luck.

You could already hear Mary, “Joe can pop over to do all your maintenance jobs” in that ‘I’m finally getting my way’ tone of hers.

Inside you dropped your boxes in the small kitchen space. The flat came with appliances and a bed so you were practically all set with what you brought with you, just needed a couch and television.

“This is pretty nice” Joe exclaimed as he walked through the open door with your last box. “I just spoke to a neighbour by the way, lovely lady, she’s baking you brownies apparently”

“Oh, Margie, yeah I spoke to her when I inspected the place, I think she put in a request for me to get the lease”

Joe offered you a puzzled look. “You really have a way with older women, don’t you?”

You laughed at his accusation, “I have an aura apparently”

“Old lady aura” Joe scoffed.

You looked up at Joe, ready to thank him and bid him goodbye. It felt bittersweet, realising that today hadn’t been as horrible as you expected, and that you had actually enjoyed your time with him.

“What are you doing for dinner?” Joe blurted out before you could get a word of thanks in.

You returned him a puzzled look.

“I mean, you don’t have any furniture, why don’t you come out and we get a pint and some dinner” Joe offered, eyebrows raised in suggestion.

You went to reject Joes offer but he stopped you again.

“As friends, honestly, mum didn’t put me up to this. Just get dinner with me”

You considered your options. It was either a pub feed with Joe or Chinese on the floor while you unpacked your wardrobe.

“My shout though, for helping me today”

Joe smiled wide, “Great, there was a nice looking place down the road, happy hour special”

You followed him out the door to start your walk to the pub and reminded yourself:

Friends

Dinner

That’s it.  

[sadstrever]

i’m still 114lbs. i feel sick. yesterday was an awful day, i came home and had an out of body chew and spit session. i wish there was more research on this part of ed’s, or just more people who talked about it because i can’t be alone in this. i refuse to believe i’m the only sick person who does disgusting shit like this. anyways the reason why i call it an out of body experience is because it’s almost like binging-just without all the swallowing of food. i came home and immediately started doing it and filled up 1 and 1/2 2 liter bottles with food. i spent 5 hours doing this without even realizing and pretty much emptied out my whole families fridge. the guilt i felt afterwards was worse than a binge in my opinion. not only did i totally waste SO MUCH food, make a huge mess, ended up with disgusting bottles of mush in my room, i also have to face the consequences of my family coming home to an empty fridge. but when they got home they were happy that i “ate.” god i’m such a fucking piece of shit.

anyways after all that i took 4 laxatives to try and get the guilt of wasting the food out of me. i woke up in the morning today in terrible pain but still had to go to class, cuz what am i supposed to tell my parents? “yeah i haven’t eaten in almost a month and basically just threw all the food we have out in the trash and i also took 4 laxatives, can i please stay home tehe?” so i went to 1 class and ended up leaving because the pain was so excruciating. straight from class i went to the gym and somehow burnt 900 calories because i guess that’s what guilt does to me. i had to take the bus 2 hours home afterwards(bus delays and i went to a new further gym location this time), high out of my mind. i’m home now and my stomach hurts but the laxatives finally did their job. i don’t want to keep doing this. 4 years ago i said i’d recover and then i didn’t. since then i’ve forgotten about recovery (with the exception of a few random moments here and there that i block out immediately), i am so used to living in this fucking misery that i didn’t realize how abnormal my reality is. i don’t want to be a bad person anymore. but i can’t stop lol.

this is what bothers me about the girls who romanticize this disorder SO MUCH, when much of the time they haven’t realized how difficult it can become. i know i’ve done this, even now sometimes as a coping mechanism. but man, i’m sick of it.

i have a friend who writes poetry and she wrote a poem about eating disorders that make me so fucking angry. the thing is, i’ve known her for years and she’s always had the best relationship with food out of most of the people i know. she’s naturally pretty thin(not too thin but normal) and she’s very open about her struggles. i know every single one of her stories, i know she’s diagnosed with adhd. that’s HER disorder, that i don’t understand so i DONT write fucking POETRY about it. a few months ago she kind of forced me into opening up about my eating disorder. after i did, suddenly she started writing these stories about her eating disorder-very very very suspiciously similar to mine. i obviously didn’t tell her everything but i told her about how long this has been going on and just my emotions about it. seeing her start to adapt my fucking disorder into her poetry disgusted me. she glamorized the fuck out of it and made me feel so stupid for ever opening up about it. she’s naturally skinny so she got a bunch of support from our friend group from it and i’m just upset man. i’m sick of living in misery while other people can use the idea of living in pain for attention.

i promised my best friend that in 3 weeks i’ll go back to therapy and try my best to recover. it’s not true. man it’s never fucking true. it’s never fucking over. unlike ms.deep-poetry-girl i can’t just fucking write this and log off and then eat a good warm meal and talk to my parents without them mentioning my body. i can’t wake up tomorrow morning and hug them without worrying that they’re gonna feel my bones. i can’t wear shorts anymore without people noticing the bruises. i can’t go to school and keep my focus because i have nothing to feed my brain. i can’t let anyone get close because soon enough they’ll be just like YOU. OR they’ll hate me for not wanting to get better. i can’t love myself like you do because of the disgusting things i do each day. i can’t wake up thinner and suddenly stop hating myself. FUCK YOUUUUUUUU GOD IM SO SICK OF IT GOD. whatever im done. just sick and tired.

[vampire-sugar]

This is such a loser moment but last night I came home from work tired and feeling sick and my brother had people over for like a small party so like the siblings of people I knew from high school were seeing me in such a gremlin like state and they had all traveled home from college and were going “you moved back? oh…” anyway they were all over the house and blasting music right by my window and I had to be asleep by 10pm bc I had to wake up early for work the next day and it was like 8ish so I said alright why not watch Queen of the Damned to pass the time so I opened my laptop and looked up the movie and right as I was about to press play the colors of my screen got inverted…like my taskbar was inverted and so was my chrome page but not other things anyway I spent so long rebooting my computer reverting back to default settings digging for anything that could be the cause disliking any forum comment that said “just turn the color filter off” bc it was fucking off already that was the problem and I started crying bc all I wanted was to watch QOTD while drinking my ginger tea and pretending there was no party at the house. It took my 2 hours to figure out the cause was some high contrast chrome extension I got years ago that suddenly activated for some reason and I deleted it and went to bed. So that was my experience trying to watch QOTD.

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[the-meme-monarch]

awesome. ive had Nightmares two nights in a row now

[canichangemyblogname]

They keep insisting that what failed in South Africa (partitioning and segregating people into different states on the basis of race & ethnicity, and observing disparate legal and judicial systems on the basis of race & ethnicity) will work in Palestine, as if the insistence on apartheid in Palestine hasn’t ultimately contributed to or helped foster conflict. And as if Palestinians do not live under a single state reality where ultimate control of the land falls to the occupying force— from food imports to where they live to (primarily military) courts to who can govern them. And as if this defacto state solution— the status quo— isn’t designed to systematically deprive them of civil rights.

Permanent, sustained peace necessitates a deviation from the status quo. Two states will not sustain.

[ghostwnby]

[neechees]

I love my niece and nephew but my sister literally keeps dumping them with me & expecting me to babysit without paying me despite the fact she has a job, & I'm tired of being treated as free labor for her

[kiseiakhun]

I was looking up drug interactions for a friend only to find out for the fifth time (forgor) that we still don't know how Tylenol works. We have guesses! Very educated guesses! But the actual mechanism of action is a mystery. That's pretty fucked up I think. It feels wrong. We should know this by now!!!!!!

[keeps-ache]

souP..

[coloursofaparadox]

i finally got my adhd med dosage worked out and also for like the first time since upping the dosage actually managed to take it consistently long enough for it to actually kick in over the last few weeks and god damn. that shit is magic.

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)