#i never know where to talk about my weed problems so i guess i will here

[sunhowler]

did not cry or smoke weed today. its the little things

[justasecretflower]

🥀- Dating Jeff! The killer before he became a proxy!

- fluff.

‼️swearing! its jeff obviously…

_______________________________

- Liu was 100% the more popular brother, he was more gentle, more kind, had more looks and friends.

- so naturally, Jeff didn’t even believe you when you said you liked him, like Toby.

- he thought you were just trying to get close to his “better” younger brother.

- you have to keep trying for him to actually believe you. You kept asking him out, telling him he looked nice, or complimenting him for getting a good score.

-he finally believes you after like a month of this and he went out to the park as a date. You brought some snacks and stuff to drink.

- You both hid in the slide. Lying right next to each other in the plastic red slide away from everyone else, talking for just hours straight. He knew he had to go home, but he didn’t care. This was his first ever date.

- “where’s my hug at?” Btw.

- “guess who?” While closing your eyes

- acts like a super senior without the pedophilia

- holds stuff above your head too.

- the first time you kissed he was fed up of procrastination. You sat next to him under the bleachers late at night, then randomly got grabbed by your cheeks and kissed roughly.

- it was a long, deep, rough kiss. He put all of his passion and love for you in that kiss.

- he didn’t apologize for how rough he grabbed you, or how sudden it was, he only went in for a second kiss.

- late night walks>>>>>>

- him giving you that dirty white hoodie he always wears when you get cold.

- makes little notes for you in class, forms a paper airplane and aims straight for your head. Then snickers about it.

- he bites. Not as something sexual just a little sign of affection. Your arm, shoulder, and jaw have become a constant place for him to bite.

-no, he will never do it hard; ever.

- can’t afford flowers, picks up weeds while walking and gives them to you.

- if you’re eating something, he snatches it up and takes a bite.

-same goes for if you’re drinking something, don’t mind him just taking a little swig.

- writes his initial and hearts on your hand all the time

-writes YOUR initial and hearts on his converse

- has a picture of you in his hoodie pocket, sure it’s a little dirt and crumpled but it’s something.

- neck kisses, on the back of the neck :(

- doesn’t know how to express his love, so he does tiny things like picking up cool trinkets he finds on the ground, helping you with a problem in school, and drawing tiny hearts everywhere (on you and your paper)

- has a tiny version of your purfume that he keeps to spray his pillows when he wants to pretend like he’s holding you.

__________________________________________

“Hmmm…a doctor?” You ask, this was the 5th thing you’ve asked him what he wants to be when he grows up, so far he’s said no to everything and it’s been getting progressively harder to think of more careers. The chill of the autumn air dances between the strands of mine and Jeff’s hair, lightly kissing my cheek and making my cheeks and tip of my nose red. He was climbing up towards the monkey bars. Hopping to one of them he thrusts an arm out to reach for the other bar. “Fuck no. Too much work” Jeff huffs a laugh. Lifting his body up to curl his legs on one of the bars, leaving him hanging upside down. I walk towards him, putting my hands on his cheeks. “I give up, what do you wanna be when you grow up.” He looks at me, eyes getting softer, lighter. “With you.” He says, smashing our lips together, like he always does, but pulling away quickly. “Don’t tell anyone I said that corny shit..” he mumbles, hopping down from the bars and rubbing his hands together. I just smile brightly.

________________________________________

- all of his movements seem like he’s scared of losing you, like you’re gonna disappear within seconds.

- grips your hand with a death grip, kisses you rough and fast, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe.

- it’s only in the quiet of the night when he stays over, spooning you does he gently hold your hand and softly kiss your face.

Pt 2. Meeting Jeff! The killer again after dating him before he was a proxy

Tags

[autisticfaun420]

More on HSN autism and poop I guess

My most popular post by far is my one about my struggle with fecal smearing not sure why. I guess I’ll give you guys a follow up cause I want to talk more about incontinence and how it has affected my life. Sorry new to tumblr and I don’t remember what tags to use so OCD people can filter so I hope this intro is enough of a trigger warning.

I’m gonna be blunt about it, what’s worse then smearing though is just being in public stuck in a shitty diaper really for a couple reasons. I can’t stop myself from having bowel accidents in public, and when I’m having them too I *look* like I’m having one, I can’t stop my legs from squatting like a little kid and there’s often an accompanying sound to go with it. I wish I could say this in a nicer way but I basically go from the tolerable quirky R word to the ew so disgusting R word real fast. People go from smiling at me at least to going to openly degrading me and making comments like I’m not in the room. People get bothered real fast, I can’t blame them it smells bad but it doesn’t change the fact on how I feel inside once I became old enough to realize this was going on. It’s hard for my parents and caregivers to find a place in public to change me and it’s often impossible. The restaurants I eat at, the places so visit, are all dependent on me having a single room bathroom because a proper adult changing station is a pipe dream.

God forbid I have a diaper blowout (where poop goes up the back and out the diaper), then whatever small amount empathy people have goes quickly out the window. I used to like taking the bus with my dad, I can’t do it anymore. I had one blowout on the bus and people acted like their life was in danger “ew ew ew oh my god the r word shit everywhere ew” from someone not even close to where I was sitting, people telling my dad how my mom should of handled her pregnancy, I learned what an abortion was that day. People become blunt when they are mildly inconvenienced with a bad smell and they think it gives them a right to dehumanize someone. I know it’s disgusting but maybe there’s something wrong with me but I don’t think the reaction warrants it. Not when I’ve been at people’s houses and the dog shits everywhere and people go aww he’s just a little guy to the dog. I wish I got that kind of reaction as an autistic child, infantilization is at least better then telling me I should have never been born.

I wanted to write more but sorry I’m crying now. I guess I’ll end it on a positive note. I mentioned in a previous post how one of my high school friends, who grew up with little brothers and cousins, had no problems changing me so we could hang out. I’m not saying that’s an accommodation I expect anyone at all to make for me who’s not a parent or a caregiver getting paid for it, but the fact that he never acted grossed out when cleaning me healed something in me. I would be so embarrassed shitting myself in front of my “cool” neurotypical friends, I would be tearing up and I opened up about it and how embarrassing it is and he basically told me fuck the haters and it’s not something I can control. I didn’t ask for it. A part of me believed I was doing on purpose and carried guilt and guilt leads to meltdowns and smearing incidents. “What do you mean all the cool kids poop their pants” he would say sometimes to make me laugh. During our hangout sessions I would whisper to him “cool pants” or text him that so he could discreetly take me to the bathroom. He’d do it wether he was drunk, stoned, or sober. And like I said in the other post, he was the only reason I was able to have the freedom to hang out without a caretaker or parent in high school and we could all smoke weed together without my parents knowing. I think they did know what I was doing and just let me have my teenage fun, I think my parents thought the weed chilled me out too, which is true, so they let me do it but my cannabis use is a topic for another day.

[munsonkitten]

strange as angels

| steddie | 8600 words | explicit | tags/read on ao3

Eddie squirms on his bed, lying on his stomach with the seam of his shorts hitting his cock just right. He can’t do any more than that, though, because Steve’s sitting just a few feet away, taking a hit off the joint that Eddie passed over to him before he had gotten comfortable where he currently is.

Fuck, weed makes him horny. Most things make him horny, but the weed paired with the summer heat paired with Steve Harrington in the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen, nothing but a white wife beater covering his torso, well, it’s a fucking recipe for disaster. A recipe for wetness spreading between his thighs, something tingling and warm where he can’t touch.

He groans, face buried in his pillow. The seam of his shorts pressing perfectly against his cock. The heat around him and the heat between his legs is nearly unbearable. He needs to do something, but that’s just another problem.

Eddie hasn’t been able to get off since March. He tries, he tries a lot, but as horny as he gets, he just touches himself and touches himself and suddenly it’s an hour later and he’s made no progress, his pussy has dried up, and his cock fucking hurts. Every single time.

“You okay, man?” Steve asks. Rough and deep, throat scratchy from smoking. Without even realizing what the fuck it does to Eddie to hear him like that.

God, he needs to stop smoking with Steve. They need a new hobby, something else they can do during their hangouts, because honestly, Eddie’s been crushing on him since middle school, and it’s only gotten worse. This pent up sexual frustration doesn’t fucking help, that’s for sure.

Eddie turns his head on the pillow, faces Steve. He takes a breath.

“I’m fine,” Eddie huffs. “Just fucking…”

He shakes his head and rolls over onto his back.

The pressure on his cock alleviates, but he still throbs in his shorts, still pulses with need and desire. He knows it’s fucking useless to even acknowlege the feeling in his underwear, knows he won’t get anywhere even if he tries. Won’t get anywhere if he kicks Steve out and tries to get himself off like he wants.

“I’m high,” Eddie says instead. “And being high makes me, uh, horny, I guess. So just, you know.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. “I can, like, go in the living room. If you wanna, you know, do something about it.”

“No,” Eddie sighs. He sits up, plants both feet on the ground, watching as his toes sink into the carpet beneath his bed. “Nah. I haven’t been able to.”

It’s embarrassing, admitting it to Steve. He can’t look up at him, not as heat settles in his cheeks, as his hands shake in his lap.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks. “Haven’t been able to touch yourself?”

“I mean,” Eddie starts. “I get horny I get my hand down my pants, try and try, and then I never get close enough to cum.”

He doesn’t say that it’s usually because something in his body ends up hurting in a way that isn’t fun or that he gets into his head about one thing or another, or just… Just general fucking dysphoria over his body. He doesn’t tell Steve there are reasons for it because he’s already said too much.

“Oh,” Steve says. He stretches forward from Eddie’s desk chair and puts the joint out in the ashtray on Eddie’s nightstand.

Eddie thinks this is it, Steve’s just gonna get up and leave. Eddie’s said too much, shared too much. He’s never had a guy friend he’s spent this much time with, not one so close to his age. His band’s too young, the Hellfire kids are too young, he wouldn’t talk about any of this with them, wouldn’t dream of it, but Steve — well, now Eddie doesn’t know if he’s even allowed to talk about it with Steve.

But then Steve leans back in the chair again, spreads his legs out with his hands clasped over his stomach. He gets comfortable, and Eddie watches him, careful not to meet his eyes.

“How do you do it?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s head snaps up and he finally looks at Steve’s face. “What?”

“Well, you get your hand in your pants, right? Have you ever tried taking them off? Getting all spread out and naked?”

What is happening right now?

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Not really. Tend to just stick my hand in there and touch my dick till I finish. Don’t really need to take them off. I mean not that I never do, but I just—”

“Try it,” Steve says, nodding toward him.

“What? Now? Are you fucking — you, what, you’re gonna sit there while I get naked?” Eddie splutters.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Steve says quickly. “Just, you know, I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Not when I’m about to jerk off!” Eddie reminds him. “Helping me bathe when I’m half-dead is not the same thing.”

“Hey, man, I’m just saying,” Steve says, putting his hands up in something that looks like surrender. But then he fucking continues. “I’ve gotten a lot of people off, you know? I could give you a few pointers.”

Eddie stares at him. He waits. Waits for Steve to laugh and say he’s just kidding, waits for Steve to punch him for even considering saying yes.

Waits.

And nothing. Steve just watches him back, head tilted forward, eyebrow slightly raised. He still has his hands clasped over his stomach, legs spread so casually. Eddie could fit between them, nose along Steve’s zipper and pull it down with his teeth — and no, he tells himself. He can’t afford to think like this.

“Hey man, if you don’t want to, that’s fine,” Steve says after a while. “I shouldn’t have — I mean, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking, or anything. It’s just, you know, I’ve had some friends and we used to, like, jerk off in the same room sometimes. No big deal. I mean—”

“Steve,” Eddie blurts out. He doesn’t want Steve to say anything else about how he and Tommy Hagan used to jerk it together. He doesn’t think he could handle it without fucking dying. “This is fucking insane, but I — okay.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, nods. “Yeah, I mean — fuck, man. It’s been… A really long time.”

Steve nods encouragingly. He sits up a little bit straighter, hands on the edges of his seat to push himself up. He looks like he’s going to stand, and then slumps back into the desk chair with a little sigh.

It’s like he wants to… Like he wants to get closer. Touch.

And the thing is, Eddie would fucking let him.

“Alright,” Steve says. “Uh, then take off your pants, okay?”

Eddie nods and stands up from the bed. He tries not to think too hard about it — Steve has seen him naked before, that’s not a problem at all. Steve had to help him a lot after everything in March, and he had already found out by accident that Eddie is trans. Eddie hadn’t wanted to expand the number of people he’s out to by letting anyone other than Steve and Wayne help him with his recovery.

So yeah, Steve’s seen him naked, he’s seen him get undressed. It’s in a different context now, of course, but as Eddie unzips his shorts, he can pretend it’s all the same.

His denim shorts hit the floor, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear, just a pair of light briefs because even his regular boxers were too hot to put on today. He isn’t wearing a shirt, didn’t bother to put one on when Steve came over, having asked Steve if that was okay. You’re a dude, aren’t you? Steve had scoffed. Why would I care if you don’t wear a shirt?

And Eddie didn’t mention the one tit he has left, the fact that he hasn’t always been seen as a dude, but Steve never mentions it, so Eddie never does either.

Steve’s seen him naked before.

He pushes his underwear down, lets them slip down his legs into the pile of material around his ankles. His hands cover his crotch, not really meaning to, not with any intention, it just feels like the thing to do.

“Gonna hide from me?” Steve teases.

And honestly, what the fuck?

Eddie doesn’t even know what’s happening right now. Doesn’t really know how to process all of this, but his cock is throbbing under the attention, pulsing with the need to touch himself. He doesn't think he’s been this horny since before the bats tore him to pieces. He could probably get off without Steve’s help, but that might be wishful thinking.

Besides, Steve’s the whole reason Eddie feels this way right now. He knows that.

“Not gonna hide,” Eddie breathes, mostly to himself.

He turns, places a knee on his bed and climbs back into it, leaving the pile of clothes on the floor, leaving the covers pushed to the end of the mattress. Nothing between them, no more pretending this is just what it always is.

Eddie spreads his legs as he gets comfortable, angled out from the corner of his bed, propped up by the corner of the walls. He feels the sticky heat from the room settle on his bare skin, the slight breeze coming through the window, the waft of air from the box fan pointed toward his bed. He feels all that, but most of all, he feels Steve’s eyes on his body.

“Go on,” Steve encourages.

He rolls the chair forward, feet moving him across the floor until he’s just two feet away from the bed. His new angle has him looking right up between Eddie’s legs, has him close enough that he could reach out and touch Eddie’s ankle, his shin.

“Are you sure this isn’t weird, man?” Eddie asks. “I mean, you know I’m — I, uh, you know, man. I’m a fuckin’ queer. I mean, having you here, that’s… you know.”

Eddie winces, waving his hand helplessly, a vague gesture round the room as he searches for the words he doesn’t really want to say. Doesn’t want to admit.

“I know, Ed,” Steve says softly. “I know, and it’s alright.”

Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding and shuts his eyes. He forces the words out, something painful in the vulnerability. “Just… I’m not gonna not be thinking about you while I do this.”

“Eddie,” Steve says in a way that makes Eddie’s eyes open. Giving him his full attention. “It’s okay.”

Eddie nods. “Right, so then I’m just gonna…”

He gestures down toward himself, down toward his cock, hard and alert, sticking up out of the thick, dark hair surrounding it. Steve’s eyes follow down, and Eddie nearly misses the way his tongue darts out and wets his lips. Without meaning to, Eddie moans quietly in the back of his throat, a quiet noise he can’t help.

He’s never felt… Desired. He’s never had anyone look at him like this, when he’s bare and spread open.

Eddie closes his eyes, needing to focus, and slides his fingers over his cock. He twitches beneath his touch, that good, warm feeling spreading through him. It starts off how it always does. Good. Touching his cock always feels good at first, always makes him think he’ll get there eventually.

He rubs his fingers over it, slides them down to his hole to gather the wetness there, and brings them back up. He works them slick and sloppy over his cock, hearing the wet noises he makes. He can’t help the little breathy groan that escapes from his lips, can’t ignore the one he gets in response from Steve.

He goes quicker, presses against himself harder, quick little strokes to get him closer but—

“Slow down.”

Eddie stops completely, looks over at Steve. He’s still sitting there, casual as ever.

“What?” Eddie breathes.

“Slow down, Eddie. Go fast like that and you’re gonna, like, burn out,” Steve says. “Go slow, ease yourself into it.”

Eddie listens, of course he does. When Steve’s using that voice, looking at him like that, all parted lips and spread legs, Eddie can’t even think of not listening.

He slides his thumb over the top of his cock, back and forth over the short length of it. It’s not enough, not fast enough, not building enough. He’ll be here for fucking hours if he keeps up this rate, and honestly that’s just as bad as not getting there at all. He doesn’t fucking have time to spend hours getting himself off, not when he used to do it in fifteen minutes and go back to whatever he was doing like he never paused in the first place.

He closes his eyes, lets the feeling wash over him, doesn’t go any faster because Steve didn’t tell him he could.

His breaths come out a little faster when he hears Steve shift, hears the fabric of his shorts rustle a bit. Eddie doesn’t look, doesn’t need to know. Just the idea that Steve might be touching himself, or needs to, at the very least, adjust himself in his shorts, is enough to make Eddie tremble with need.

“Slow down,” Steve says again.

Eddie fucking whines. He didn’t realize he sped up until Steve said it. He’s just desperate to force an orgasm after so long without. He slows down again, slides his fingers over his dick in languid movements.

“Ed?”

“Mhm?” Eddie opens his eyes, looks over at him.

“Going okay?” Steve asks. He has his hand cupping himself through his shorts, not moving, just holding. Eddie wants to watch him, wants him to get naked and spread himself out just like Eddie is.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Going about the same as it normally does at this point.”

That’s actually a fucking understatement.

“That’s good,” Steve says. “Have you ever tried fingering yourself?”

Eddie nods, a little too jerkily. “Yeah, but I can’t reach too good anymore.”

With that, he dips his fingers lower, slides one over the entrance of his hole. He dips the finger just inside his pussy, feeling the stretch in his shoulders and back as he tries to reach further. Ever since he got hurt, it’s been harder, he can’t quite get much deeper than his first knuckle.

“You don’t have a toy or anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie slides his finger in, ignoring the aches spreading through his body. He spreads his legs open further, feels the painful click in his bad hip when it’s too far, and has to pull his finger out, gasping with the pain. He clutches his hip as he moves his leg back into a more comfortable position, and then he feels a hand settle over his.

He opens his eyes to see Steve leaning over him, hand still on Eddie’s hip. He rubs at the spot, massaging the pain away. He’s done this before — Eddie’s hip, his shoulder, his back, any of the problem spots he’s had over the last few months. Steve has massaged him, held him up, kept him steady, used his big hands as a brace when Eddie just needs some extra support where it hurts.

This hand burns.

Red hot with fire, with the look in Steve’s eyes.

“I asked you a question,” Steve says, voice low in the way Eddie likes it. He shivers.

“Could you repeat it?” Eddie pants.

“Do you have any toys?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. Too expensive. I’ve, uh, used the handle of my hairbrush before, back before everything, but…”

He trails off, shaking his head. It’s been a while. It doesn’t feel right using the thing he leaves in a shared space on the bathroom counter.

“Poor baby,” Steve murmurs.

A moan punches out of Eddie, the name swirling around him and holding him tight in a warm embrace. Baby, baby, baby.

“You must be so desperate to get off,” Steve continues.

“I am,” Eddie whispers.

He starts touching himself again, cock between his knuckles. He slides his thumb over the tip, entire body twitching with sensitivity.

Steve is so close still, leaning over Eddie’s body with his hand still cradling his hip. The point of contact is so minimal, so routine, but it feels like he’s being touched everywhere. Like Steve’s the one working his fingers over his cock.

He wants that. Wants Steve to touch him, to be the one to get him where he hasn’t gone in so long. He wants Steve’s fingers inside him, knows they’d stretch him just right and hit exactly where Eddie needs them, thick and long, and perfect. Steve Harrington is fucking perfect.

Steve goes back and sits down on the chair again, and Eddie watches him, watches the way he settles and puts his hand back over his own cock. Eddie can see the bulge in his little shorts, can see the way his cock is straining to get free. It’s big, Eddie knows that. The thought of it inside him, oh god. Eddie screws his eyes shut again.

He can’t keep thinking about it.

“What do you like, Eddie?” Steve asks softly, leaning in closer.

“I don’t — I don’t know,” Eddie pants, tilting his head and opening his eyes.

“No? Nothing?”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie says helplessly.

“Is this all you do, baby? You just touch your pretty cock? What do you think about?”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groans. Zings of pleasure shoot through him, his dick throbbing and twitching from the words. “I like when you say shit like that.”

“You like a little praise, I get that. Like being told you’re doing a good job,” Steve says thoughtfully. “What else?”

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie says. He drops his hand to the bed, spreading his legs a little bit further to feel the air on his cunt. What he thinks about is Steve Harrington’s huge hands gripping his hips as he fucks his huge cock into him. That’s what he fucking thinks about.

He digs his fingers into his thighs, trying to distract himself from the thoughts. His cock pulses, and he can see it twitching between his legs when he looks down. He digs his fingers in deeper, wishing he could do it hard enough to bruise, settles for digging his nails in instead.

“Think you might like a little pain, too, though, huh?” Steve asks, drawing Eddie’s attention back to him.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. He looks… He looks about as wrecked as Eddie feels. Raw and splayed open, entire body thrumming with arousal. That’s how Steve looks, parted lips and half-lidded eyes. “I think you do. Digging your nails so hard into your thighs I’m scared you might bleed, man, and your dick is fucking… twitching, like I can fucking see it, Jesus Christ. Like, seems like you like that a little bit. And if all those tattoos are anything to go by…”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie admits. “Yeah, I like… A little pain.”

“Pinch your nipple, then,” Steve suggests. “See if that does anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Doesn’t do much for me. I’ve tried.”

“That’s okay,” Steve whispers. “What about, uh, spanking?”

“What, you’re gonna bend me over your knee and spank me, Harrington?” Eddie asks, and well, he doesn’t hate that idea. Okay, that actually sounds really good, but he doesn’t know if that’ll help him get where he needs to be.

“I was gonna suggest you spank yourself,” Steve says. “Slap your, uh…”

He gestures between Eddie’s legs.

“My cunt? Are you serious?”

“Try it,” Steve says. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay.”

“No, no,” Eddie says quickly. “Fuck, I’ll try anything at this point.”

“That’s right,” Steve says with a nod. “You’re desperate, baby, I know.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” Eddie huffs. If he’s called baby one more time he might cum untouched.

Without another word, Eddie lifts one hand and hesitates just a few inches above his crotch. He looks over at Steve, see the way he looks at him so intently, sees the way his eyes are fixated on Eddie’s cunt, and it’s — Eddie usually feels a bit dysphoric about the parts he has, wishes he had something else between his legs, but he feels like he doesn’t even have the brain power for those feelings to creep up on him right now. He doesn’t have it in him to think that Steve might be looking at him right now and seeing a girl.

Steve’s clearly getting off on this, he’s turned on, Eddie can see that. He can see the slight twitch of Steve’s hand over his shorts, like he’s trying not to be too obvious about touching himself.

Eddie brings the hand down, hearing the wet slap that fills the room. The blow isn’t as sharp as he’d like it to be, his pubes kind of ruin that skin on skin contact he wants, but it’s still good. It still makes him close his legs around his hand and moan out.

“Was that…?” he starts. “How was that?”

“You tell me, Eddie,” Steve says. “You’re doing this for you, not me.”

And that’s — well, Eddie kinda likes the idea of it being for Steve. He likes the idea of punishing himself and being told whether or not it’s good enough.

“I think I should try again,” Eddie whispers.

Steve nods encouragingly.

Eddie lifts his hand and brings it down again, hitting his dick dead-on and crying out. He shakes, legs closing around his hand again, and takes a few deep breaths.

“That was a good one, Eddie,” Steve says. It heightens everything Eddie’s feeling right now, spreads warmth through his whole body to hear that. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie breathes.

“Good boy,” Steve says. “That’s what matters, right? Feeling good?”

Eddie nods. If he wasn’t before, then being called a good boy would’ve done it for him. It settles deep in his gut, warm and tingling. He’s being a good boy, he is, and he’ll show Steve he can keep being one. It falls so easily from Steve’s lips, the ease with which he calls Eddie a boy making Eddie swell with something euphoric. People who find out don’t always treat him right. Sometimes they find out and flip right to calling him a girl, calling him by the wrong name — but not Steve. Never Steve.

It’s so simple, to be called those two simple words, but it means a lot to Eddie. Maybe it shouldn’t, maybe it’s bare minimum, but it’s still something important to him.

Steve’s important to him, and Eddie wants to show him just how good he can be. He’s desperate to show him.

He spanks himself a few more times, making each one better than the last. The last one stings the most, his pussy and dick sore from the blows. He feels like he could float away, each smack of his hand bringing him right back down to earth and then sending him away again. He feels light, floating in a way that has nothing to do with the weed he was smoking earlier.

He wants more. Wants it to be Steve’s hand coming down on his heated skin.

“That’s enough,” Steve tells him. “Give your poor dick a break.”

He would, he so would, but he’s fucking throbbing. He wants to go back to jerking himself off, wants to shove his fingers in deep, if only he could. Wants, wants, wants.

Most of all, he wants Steve, and he doesn’t know how to ask for him.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes. He puts his hand back on his dick, needs to touch himself. Thinks he might be getting closer — he just needs Steve. Needs Steve to take away all the thoughts that stop him every other time he tries.

“Yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to say it. He’s stood on tables and yelled to the entire cafeteria, he’s sung and played guitar in front of the entire school, he DMs with everything he has, never ever feeling nervous, but he’s never had someone this close, has never felt so vulnerable.

This audience of one feels so much bigger than the rest of them. Steve Harrington is everything, and Eddie is scared. He’s scared to ask, he’s scared to fuck up, he’s scared to be this open and raw with someone, and he doesn’t know what to say.

He shakes his head.

“Eddie Munson’s finally run out of words,” Steve comments, not meanly, or anything. It’s like he’s truly in awe of this progression. Like he can’t believe Eddie’s speechless because of him. Eddie can’t really believe it either.

Eddie just nods. He stops touching himself, reaches out to take the hem of Steve’s tank top in between his fingers. Tugs.

“What is it, Eddie? Need you to talk to me.”

“I can’t reach, but you —” he swallows. He tugs on his shirt again, trying to urge Steve into taking it off. “You could?”

It seems to take Steve a second to recall the previous conversation, now feeling like ages ago to Eddie too, but then he gets a sharp intake of breath in response, and Steve tugs his shirt over his head. Tosses it down to the floor, and Eddie’s seen Steve shirtless, but not like this. Not when he’s about to touch Eddie. And that’s what’s going to happen, Steve’s definitely getting ready to touch him, hopefully fuck his fingers into him and help him cum for the first time in months.

“I could,” Steve says. “I could. Just tell me—”

“Steve,” Eddie whines. “Please just touch me.”

Steve ends up on the bed between Eddie’s legs, knees planted on the mattress, outer thighs touching the insides of Eddie’s. His fingers slide over Eddie’s hole, rubbing at the wetness, spreading but not dipping inside.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie breathes. “It’s fine, right? You said — you said, you and the guys—”

And Eddie knows Steve said nothing about touching each other, but he doesn’t fucking care. He just needs it so bad.

“No, yeah,” Steve says quickly. “Yeah, it’s — just giving a friend a hand, right?”

Eddie nods in agreement because yeah, that’s exactly what this is. He doesn’t need to think about what else this could mean because Steve says it’s normal. Eddie doesn’t have to worry about being the freak — the fag — because Steve is okay with this. He’s doing this.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants. “Just — I’m… You know I’m not a girl, right?”

Because he has to say it. He needs to know that Steve knows. Cunt and tits (one tit) don’t make him a girl, and Steve needs to know that. If Steve wants to say this is something friends do, something that doesn’t have to mean anything, Eddie at least needs him to acknowledge—

“I’m gay, Ed,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, I’m — yeah, into guys. Don’t worry, man. Never seen you as anything but a guy, okay? Not gonna start now.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes. Okay.

Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool. Steve Harrington just came out to him and now he’s pushing one finger inside Eddie’s cunt. Just a typical fucking Friday afternoon. Except it’s not because—

“This is my first—” Eddie blurts out. He cuts himself off, swallows. Says softly, “I’ve never done anything. With anyone.”

“Then I better make it good for you, huh?” Steve says.

Eddie shivers, the low rumble of Steve’s voice right in his ear making him tremble with need. He nods, a quiet moan falling from his lips, just a little noise that fills the room.

The finger inside him is long, presses and touches experimentally. Eddie finds himself panting, squeezing down around it to make it feel thicker inside him.

Steve laughs quietly, head dipping and pressing into Eddie’s neck. “Gonna push me out, baby.”

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers.

He brings his hands up, slides them around Steve’s waist, touches the scars on his hips and back.

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “Just feel good, okay? Let me help.”

Steve pulls his finger out and moves, settles on the bed beside Eddie. He lays on his side and wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him flush to his body. Eddie’s arm and side press to Steve’s chest, the thick hair brushing against Eddie’s skin.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, face right next to Eddie’s on the pillow. He hikes Eddie’s leg up, hooks his arm underneath his thigh, and slides his fingers through the wetness on Eddie’s skin, up to his cock.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

Steve pushes two fingers into Eddie’s pussy. They go in easier than Eddie expected them to, he’s so turned on. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet before, doesn’t usually get anywhere near this, but right now he has Steve Harrington pressed to him, their sweaty bodies sticking together where they touch, and he has two fingers inside him that he’s dreamed of, and he can feel Steve’s cock digging into his leg. Sue him for being affected by all of that.

“Good?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, mouth falling open as Steve moves his fingers just right. It’s so much better than anything Eddie’s ever tried himself. The feeling of a warm body pressed against him, the feeling of someone else’s fingers inside him, it’s fucking — it’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it’s not enough at the same time.

His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he wants to crawl toward that warmth, wants to crawl inside Steve and stay there, if only he can feel close to him for a little while longer. The feeling suffocates him, sucks all the air out of his lungs, and he turns his face toward Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, adjusts himself so Steve can thrust his fingers in deeper, feels the stretch in his hip as he hooks his leg over Steve’s thigh. He feels like he’s contorting himself, trying to become one with Steve.

“Not enough,” Eddie tells him.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to ask for more, doesn’t know what’s going to be too far, but he wants more. More fingers, something harder and faster, anything.

“What do you need?” Steve asks.

“Don’t — don’t make me ask,” Eddie blurts out. He can’t. What he wants — he wants Steve. He wants him forever, wants to keep him. Wants Steve to love him.

That’s the core of it. Eddie’s in love with Steve, and he just wants to be loved back.

“More fingers?” Steve asks, sliding a third in with the other two.

The stretch hurts for just a second and then eases into something pleasurable when Steve starts rubbing his fingertips inside him.

Eddie gasps, nods. His eyes slip shut, and he breathes, “Yeah. Yeah, good, Steve. That’s great.”

Steve hums in response, something low and rough, close. And then Steve’s lips are pressing to his chin, and Eddie lifts a hand to cup Steve’s jaw because yes, more, please, and he tilts Steve’s chin, tilting him so their lips can slot together.

And Eddie’s never kissed anyone in his life, might be doing it all wrong, but now he’s kissing Steve Harrington, and the world isn’t ending, so he might be doing okay, afterall. Steve’s fingers move in and out of him at the same pace their lips slide against each other, and it’s all so good, and it’s almost enough. It’s almost enough and Eddie drops his hand from Steve’s chin and starts to touch himself, working his fingers slowly over his dick like Steve told him earlier, and he’s getting close, he thinks. He’s going to get there.

Steve’s fingers stop, he pulls back. Eddie stops his own hand, slowly opens his eyes to look at Steve.

“Is it okay if I take my shorts off?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie nods because yeah, of course. It’s only fair.

Steve slips out of bed, leaving Eddie alone for just a few agonizing seconds. He drops his shorts and briefs to the ground, and steps out of them, his cock slapping against his stomach as it springs free.

“Christ,” Eddie breathes. He wants it inside him, thinks it might break him in two.

“Don’t feel like you have to touch me, or anything,” Steve says, crawling back into bed and taking up his previous position. “This is about you, yeah? Helping you out. Don’t worry about me, alright? Just feel like I’m losing circulation if I keep those on.”

“Hey Steve?” Eddie says.

“Mhm?”

“Shut up, please.”

Steve laughs, pressing his nose into Eddie’s neck. “Which part?”

“Can I? Touch you?” Eddie asks. He wants to. Doesn’t even know why Steve would say he doesn’t have to. “It would probably be mutually beneficial.”

“Mutually beneficial, huh?” Steve repeats. He tugs Eddie’s leg up again, pressing his fingers back inside.

His cock brushes against Eddie’s thigh, wet at the tip where it touches him.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. Summoning all his bravery, he adds, “I mean, surely giving a friend a hand could extend to, uh, more.”

“You mean…?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Eddie whines. He doesn’t want to be the one to put it out there because if Steve doesn’t want that, if he doesn’t wanna go that far, then what? Sure Steve’s gay, or whatever he is, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to go all the way with someone like Eddie.

“I really think I need you to, baby, because what I want and what you want might be completely different things, and I need to know—”

“What do you want?”

“I… Want to make you feel good,” Steve says. “I want to fuck you until you can’t think of anything else.”

Eddie moans, turns his head to catch Steve’s lips in another kiss.

“I want that,” Eddie says. “I think that would get me there.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods.

“You have condoms, baby?” Steve asks.

And, fuck, no he doesn’t. He did before his room got swallowed up, but he never got a chance to use them before they expired and got lost to the Upside Down. No, he doesn’t, but—

“No, but I mean, you were telling me you got tested just a couple weeks ago, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs. “I guess I did tell you that.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, and I’ve never been with anyone.”

“Yeah, but Eddie—”

“I can’t get pregnant,” Eddie says before Steve can bring it up. “So don’t even worry about that. I’m, like, completely obliterated in there. Bats took my ovaries, man.”

“Well, that’s… Lucky?”

Eddie barks a laugh. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

Steve laughs too, pressing his face to Eddie’s chest as he moves over him. He gets up, fits himself back between Eddie’s legs.

“I do, um,” Eddie says. He opens up his nightstand drawer and pulls out a small bottle of lube. He hands it over to Steve.

“You have lube but no condoms?” Steve asks, looking down at the bottle.

“Don’t even—” Eddie starts. He shakes his head. “I was in Indy a few weeks ago getting a tattoo from my friend, you know, because he has a little operation going on in his apartment, you remember, it’s the one I got on my leg? Yeah, well, he had lube in his bathroom in his apartment, so.”

“So you took it? Why?”

“I don’t know, man!” Eddie huffs. “The idea of walking into a sex shop and buying it, like, makes my skin crawl a little bit, and they don’t fucking sell it at Melvald’s, and I thought, maybe if I tried something new, I’d be able to get off, but like I showed you, I can barely fucking finger myself, and I dont have anything to—”

“Okay, okay,” Steve whispers. Soothes him with a gentle touch to his stomach.

Eddie falls silent, lets himself settle under Steve’s touch. He’s getting worked up, a bit overwhelmed. He’s so desperate to get off, it feels like he’s vibrating with arousal. He doesn’t need to be interrogated about stealing lube from his buddy’s apartment. Not that Steve’s doing that it’s just—

“You’re okay,” Steve says.

Eddie nods. Yeah, he’s okay.

“I’m going to finger you a little more, okay? Can you be good for me? Let me take care of you?”

Eddie doesn’t know why that does it for him, doesn’t know why he’s so willing to let Steve just do whatever the hell he wants just as long as Steve keeps being so sweet with him. The thing is, he just feels so safe with Steve in a way he never thought he could with anyone.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes.

“Good boy,” Steve says. He pushes two lubed fingers into Eddie, sliding so much easier than before.

Eddie moans, cock twitching from the words and from the fingers. Steve rubs his thumb over it and Eddie thinks he might die. He might just drop dead right here because he feels good and no one’s ever touched him before and it’s so much. It’s so much, so much more than when he does it himself, and he needs more, he needs so much more.

He needs too much.

Steve works three fingers in and out of him, leaning over so he can press a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. It’s intimate, something secret and warm between the two of them. Eddie knows this isn’t just something friends do, he knows that, and he can see it, he thinks, when Steve pulls away, that they’re both on the same page.

He hopes they’re both on the same page.

“You ready, Eddie?” Steve asks, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. He pulls his fingers out and searches the sheets for the discarded bottle of lube.

Eddie nods, spreads his legs even more. He winces when his hip turns too far, and then Steve is there, gripping him gently, and turning him onto his side. Big hands, strong muscles, moving Eddie with so much ease.

“This’ll be more comfortable,” Steve tells him, fitting behind Eddie.

His chest presses to Eddie’s back, the lengths of their bodies touching, sticky with sweat, heated with arousal. Eddie can feel Steve’s cock against him, hot and hard, pressing between his asscheeks, sliding up against the small of his back.

Steve reaches between their bodies, lifts Eddie’s leg, slides it forward until Eddie knows his cunt is on display. Steve sets Eddie’s leg down on the mattress, and then Eddie feels the wet head of Steve’s cock slide against him, right where he needs it most, and this is it, he thinks.

He’s stretched open as Steve pushes in, the fingering and all the lube helping. Steve takes his time, working just the tip of his cock into Eddie’s dripping cunt, letting it pop in before he pulls back out again. Eddie hears him add more lube, and then Steve pushes in deeper on the next try, forcing a moan from Eddie’s lips.

He turns his face toward his pillow, takes the fabric between his teeth and clamps down to muffle the sounds falling out of him. It’s good, feeling Steve against him, it’s so good feeling him inside, knowing he’s taking his time because Eddie’s never done this before.

Steve Harrington is fucking sweet, and he’s fucking Eddie so sweetly, and Eddie wants to keep him. He wants to keep him for as long as he fucking can.

“You okay, baby?” Steve whispers, sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, pressing his face into the pillow.

“Doesn’t hurt, or anything?”

“No, no,” Eddie says, lifting his head and turning it. He can just turn his head enough to see Steve over his shoulder, to see the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, sweaty and damp. He can see the way his lips part as he breathes, little rapid puffs like he might be just as affected as Eddie is. “I’m so good, Stevie. Please keep going.”

“You’ll tell me if you need to stop,” Steve says, no room for argument.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell you,” Eddie pants.

Steve pulls out until just the head is left inside Eddie and then he slides all the way in, pressing so deep Eddie thinks he might die in the best way. He feels it, feels how hot and thick and hard Steve is, feels him everywhere.

He slides in and out, never leaving Eddie’s body more than a couple inches before pressing back in impossibly deep. He slides so easily, hitting Eddie in all the spots that make him tremble. He’s being loud, he knows he is, and he almost, almost feels bad for his neighbors who have to hear it, but he also doesn’t really give a fuck.

He feels too good to give a fuck about anything other than Steve fucking him just right, a hand settled over his stomach and pressing down, holding him so close.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, hm?” Steve comments, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder. His hand on his stomach moves, slides down until it’s between Eddie’s legs.

His fingers graze over Eddie’s cock, featherlight and Eddie tenses up, a loud moan breaking free.

“More,” Eddie demands. “Please, Stevie, need more.”

“You beg so nicely,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s neck. “I can give you more, baby. You’ve been so patient, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie pants. “I’ve been so patient, baby, please touch me.”

Steve does, working Eddie’s cock in time with his thrusts. It’s so much, so good, the dual sensations inside and out of Eddie’s body, spreading like wildfire through his limbs and in his core.

It takes him a second to understand what exactly that means, the warmth in his gut that he hasn’t felt in so fucking long.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers. His hand works faster. “Good boy. I can feel you, angel, can you feel that? Tightening around me so hard, oh, fuck, Eddie. You close?”

“Yeah,” Eddie gasps, the word punching out of him as he rocks himself against Steve’s hand and on his cock. He’s so close, so much closer than he’s gotten on his own in months, and it’s different than he’s ever felt.

He gets right up to the edge, about to tip over and Steve doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking him through it, working him like his life depends on it, and Eddie might be screaming, but it doesn’t fucking matter. Not when he feels like this, like he’s on fire in the best way possible.

Eddie thinks he definitely dies and goes to Heaven when he cums. It’s too much, too powerful, ripping through his entire body and crashing over him. He clenches down so hard on Steve’s cock that he feels it slip right out of him, leaving him with just the hand on his cock, working him over and over speeding up, never relenting. He bucks his hips up into Steve’s hand, grinds himself against it as he gasps and cries out.

His pussy throbs long after he’s done, tingles with the aftershocks. His heart rate returns to normal and he’s left with this bone deep satisfaction. He’s never felt this sated in his life, has never felt this — complete.

“Christ, man,” Steve huffs. “You needed that.”

Eddie nods, cranes his neck so he can see Steve, so he can bring him in for a kiss over his shoulder. Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, wet with spit, uncoordinated on Eddie’s part because he does not have control over his body anymore, that’s for sure.

“You didn’t cum,” Eddie pants when Steve pulls away.

“That’s okay, sweet boy,” Steve murmurs, and Eddie doesn’t want to dissect what that does to him. Doesn’t have enough of a coherent thought after coming his brain out to feel anything other than warmth over it. “This was about you, yeah? You needed some help, and you were so good.”

“Want you to,” Eddie says. “Want you to feel good, too, baby.”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, eyes slipping shut. He nods. “I did. I do feel good, Eddie. Helping you? That makes me feel good.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “I want you to cum inside me. I’ve been good, right?”

“Yeah, Eddie, you’re so good,” Steve tells him. “But you just came really hard, man. I don’t want to hurt you if you’re sore.”

“Stevie,” Eddie sighs. “We established I like a little pain, right?”

Steve nods, takes a deep breath. “Okay, yeah. If you’re sure.”

Eddie reaches down between his legs and guides Steve’s cock back to his hole. He feels it catch, pop just inside, and he whines, angling his hips so Steve can slide back in.

Steve’s arm settles around his waist again as he rocks into Eddie, trying to get enough leverage to fuck into him faster.

“Hold on,” Eddie whispers.

Steve stops, face buried into the back of Eddie’s neck, panting into his skin.

“Wanna—” Eddie starts. He doesn’t know if he should ask, if it’s too much, if it means too much, but he realizes he wants it desperately. Wants— “Wanna see your face, baby. When you cum in me, I wanna—”

And then Steve is pulling out and grabbing Eddie by the hips, moving him until he’s on his back with his legs spread, and Steve fits himself in between them, and pushes back inside. He bends over Eddie, quickly thrusting into him, grinding deep as he presses kiss after kiss to Eddie’s lips.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to slam deep, so deep Eddie thinks he might break, and shake apart over him. He kisses him, lips slack as moans fall between them. Eddie drinks them down, holds Steve tight as he cums hard inside him.

And then Steve slumps against him, cock still pulsing and twitching inside him, and Eddie can feel the added wetness of Steve’s cum, can feel it leak out with each twitch of Steve’s hips.

Eddie locks his ankles behind Steve’s back, thighs squeezing his sides, and holds him there.

“Stay inside,” Eddie whispers.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, shaking but easy. So soft and so sweet.

He’s still shaking, just resting against Eddie as they try to breathe together.

“You okay, Harrington?” Eddie whispers. He runs his hands up and down Steve’s sides, over the scars that match Eddie’s.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve whispers, muffled into Eddie’s collar bone.

Eddie’s hands still, he freezes. Still blanketed under Steve’s trembling body, Eddie takes a deep, shaking breath.

“Pussy was that good, huh?” he jokes. Because there’s no way Steve meant that. There’s no way he even said it, nah, Eddie’s just hearing things.

Hearing things he wants to hear.

“No,” Steve says. He lifts his head. “I mean, yeah. Your pussy’s great, man, but no, that’s not — I just had to tell you, okay? It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but you know, I have to be honest because we just… did all that, and it would be wrong for me to not tell you.”

“After we—” Eddie starts, but then all the words catch right up to his brain and he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so heated and full of all the words Eddie wants to say back.

Steve’s still inside him, still covering him with his body. It’s so hot in the room, and Eddie feels gross, but none of that matters because Eddie may feel gross, but he’s loved. Loved in a way he never has been, and that’s—

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie laughs. He thinks he might start to cry, thinks he might be already. “I mean, hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, middle school, so there’s that.”

“You didn’t even know me,” Steve points out.

“Didn’t need to. Knew you were pretty,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “What about you? When did this revelation hit you?”

“At Reefer Rick’s,” Steve answers immediately.

“Oh yeah? Which time?”

“The first time, man. When you had that bottle pressed to my throat. Fuck, all I could think was that you were wild. Wild, but scared, man. Like an animal that shouldn’t be caged, I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Steve? You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this the whole time?” Eddie jokes.

Steve shrugs. “Didn’t wanna scare you off. You, uh, you’re doing better now, than you were then, and even just, a few weeks ago, you know? And if I would’ve—”

“I would’ve ran,” Eddie realizes.

Steve shrugs. “I would’ve waited longer, you know. Just, you were lying there in nothing but a pair of fucking cut off shorts, squirming, man. You were squirming and whining, and fuck, you would’ve seen how hard I was if I didn’t say something first to beat you to the punch.”

Eddie laughs. “Can’t believe I got you that worked up.”

“You’re a fucking dream, Eddie Munson,” Steve says. “And I don’t wanna wake up from this one.”

And it’s fucking cheesy, it’s so fucking cheesy, but Eddie finds himself smiling, his grin overtaking his whole face. He can’t stop it, can’t contain it, doesn’t fucking want to.

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet,” Eddie teases.

“Did that actually work?” Steve asks, his grin matching Eddie’s.

“Consider me swept, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink. “My feet are thoroughly off the ground.”

Steve kisses him again, and he moves them, slipping out of Eddie’s messy cunt, but not letting him go, not going far. He grabs the joint and the lighter off Eddie’s nightstand and lights it up again, taking a hit before passing it over to Eddie. They lay on their sides facing each other, Steve’s arm slung over Eddie’s waist.

“Hoping to get me horny again?” Eddie asks as he brings the joint to his lips.

Steve laughs, ducking his head to hide himself in Eddie’s neck. “I’m hoping I’d get a second round without it, but hey, if it works, it works.”

“Don’t worry, baby, you can have as many rounds as you want,” Eddie promises.

Something has definitely changed between them, but strangely, as Eddie lays in his bed beside Steve, smoking the rest of the joint they were working through earlier, it feels like nothing’s changed at all. They’ve been in love with each other this whole time, been living in each other’s pockets for the entire summer. Steve’s seen Eddie naked before, he’s helped him bathe, helped him change his bandages, helped him brush his hair, and makes sure he’s eating.

All these acts of kindness have never been because they’re just friends, and Eddie knows that now, and he thinks he knew that before, too. He kisses the top of Steve’s head, noses against his sweat damp hair, and holds him closer.

Soon they’ll have to get up and clean up, to wash away the evidence of what they just did, and they’ll get in the shower together, not for the first time, but for the first time when they both know what it means, and Eddie will hold Steve close, and he’ll ask Steve to call him angel and sweet boy, and—

They’ll clean up later.

Now, though, he whispers a quiet, “Yeah, I love you,” and holds him tight, and hears the same three words whispered back.

ao3

[omniseurs-blog]

My YouTube comment reposted - mental illness, schizospec, psychosis, ADHD, distrust of doctors, rage/anger vent, loss of childhood, drug use

I was diagnosed with emotional behavioral disorder NOS and ADHD at 4, depression at 10, schizophrenia at 14, changed to schizoaffective bipolar and PTSD at 15. Here's my (and my family's) story.

Before any of my immediate family was born, my paternal great grandpa was... "Quirky", aka delusional and had hallucinations, and my great grandma refused to get him help, because it meant institutionalization or lobotomy. She never told her kids (my paternal grandpa) about it, they simply divorced when the kids were old enough to work. This is still all I will ever know about my great grandpa. My grandpa had his first psychotic break in his 20s or 30s (all I know is my grandma saying he's been insane for a long time, which is why she divorced him) and hid it well enough until his 50s where he was institutionalized and diagnosed "early onset dementia without Alzheimer's features" or something along those lines, he used to call my dad up all the time talking about the mafia and how my mother was poisoning him. My father had his first break in his 20s as well after the birth of my older brother and the death of his brother, but he didn't get treatment until his 30s well after my mother divorced him when I was 3. For a long time I didn't know a single thing about him besides what my mother told me, "he's abusive, he's evil, he's crazy, he's a terrible person" (my mother got diagnosed with BPD recently, so I don't even know if those were lies or not), but one thing she did teach us was that he was schizophrenic.

And then there's me. I was a shy kid, never trusted anybody, didn't play, didn't socialize, took a long time to start speaking, and... Held a very negative view of schizophrenia all the way until I was diagnosed. I was put on ADHD meds at 4, 20mg of adderall, the same age I was diagnosed. I began hallucinating full visible dead and bleeding people because of them and I had paranoia of being followed and watched. My mother did warn the psychiatrist that schizophrenia ran in the family, but my psychiatrist just raised the dose higher, this time 30mg of Ritalin, and put me on risperidone, 5mg... I hallucinated even worse, had crying fits from the delusions, but I was completely and utterly zombified. Why was I zombified on "such a low/starter dose"? Because I was a maybe 60lb F O U R (4) year old. Since the hallucinations and delusions didn't stop, and my mother insisting that I had schizophrenia, the doctor ensured my mother "children can't have schizophrenia" and diagnosed me emotional behavioral disorder NOS, switched me to Vyvanse at 25mg, and switched my risperidone to a common antidepressant I can't remember the name of (Prozac?). Of course, I was perfectly happy then, absolutely off the walls running around, wandering around, all that, so the SCHOOL system said they were going to call CPS because they didn't believe my parents were giving me my medications... Which meant they were the ones dishing out my medications to me and I missed the doses I was supposed to take before bed.

Thankfully, we ended up moving when I turned 10, and the new school never threatened CPS or demanded proof I'm taking my meds, so on my own account, I quit my own meds. I went unmedicated aside from taking a different antidepressant (genuinely can't begin to guess the name) around 12-13. I completely forgot I had any mental illness other than obviously having attention problems, fidgeting more than everyone else, severe anxiety that I thought was normal, and frequent nightmares and bedwetting, and a lack of awareness that I didn't fit in with others (mostly because I didn't have the urge to socialize with anyone). Then... the teenage years hit. My brother was experimenting with dr*gs, weed, LSD, computer duster, m*th, all of the dr*gs that were said to be bad in dare, and I did them too. We got past computer duster and weed, my brother got into worse drugs, new years swung around at 14 and they had some "high quality acid" that turned out to be NBOME, or fake bitter acid that makes even the most mentally stable freak out.

New years 2015, I was 14 years old, we took the fake acid, all 6 of us. People became manifestations of my mental illness, my brother was ADHD, his friends sister was depression, his best friend was anxiety, his best friends gf was PTSD... And his friend was schizophrenia. I was only diagnosed with ADHD, anxiety, and depression. The TV was talking to me, the music was about me, the universe was going to collapse if I made the wrong move. Sure, a bad trip is a bad trip, but the bad trip didn't end after 12, 24, 48 hours, a week, 2 weeks, a month, 5 months, a year, 2 years, 4 years. 4 years is what it took to START recovering, dozens of different combinations of meds, 20 hospitalizations, 4 different hospitals, 3 different states, countless amounts of doctors, and 3, going on 4, disability applications. From 10th to 12th grade, I missed an average of 100 days per year, had a 0.0gpa, and just barely graduated through GED while experiencing active psychosis

What could've been diagnosed at age 4, what I could've been properly medicated for, what didn't take a genius to figure out. 14 to roughly 18 were all a delusional mess, I'm 23 now. I still act like a 14 year old because... I'm still there. I should still be a kid.

[lessnearthesun]

And if I asked you to assign four Taylor songs to each Classics department member 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I hope you all know how LONG I spent on this, and how much thought I put into my choices. So if you disagree I don’t care and I don’t want to hear it ✋ talk to the hand…..anyway enjoy <3

The Greek Class (Taylor’s Version):

Richard:

• I look in people’s windows

Standout lyric: So I look in people's windows/Like I'm some deranged weirdo/I attend Christmas parties from outside

• mirrorball

Standout lyric: I'm a mirrorball/I can change everything about me to fit in

• Florida!!! (except it’s about Hampden)

Standout lyric: I need to forget, so take me to Florida/I've got some regrets, I'll bury them in Florida/Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable/At least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, Florida

• Wonderland

Standout lyric: Ooh, didn't it all seem new and exciting?/I felt your arms twisting around me/It's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind

Charles:

• Innocent

Standout lyric: I guess you really did it this time/Left yourself in your warpath/Lost your balance on a tightrope/Lost your mind tryin' to get it back

•This is me trying

Standout lyric: They told me all of my cages were mental/So I got wasted like all my potential/And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad/I have a lot of regrets about that

• Dear reader

Standout lyric: So I wander through these nights/I prefer hiding in plain sight/My fourth drink in my hand/These desperate prayers of a cursed man

• Don’t blame me

Standout lyric: Don't blame me, love made me crazy/If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right

Camilla:

• Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

Standout lyric: If you'd never looked my way/I would've stayed on my knees/And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil/At nineteen/And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven

• right where you left me

Standout lyric: 'Cause I'm right where/I cause no harm, mind my business/If our love died young, I can't bear witness

• seven

Standout lyric: Please picture me/In the weeds/Before I learned civility/I used to scream ferociously/Any time I wanted

• Carolina

Standout lyric: Oh, Carolina creeks/Running through my veins/Lost I was born, lonesome I came/Lonesome I'll always stay

Henry:

• Mastermind

Standout lyric: What if I told you I'm a mastermind?/And now you're mine/It was all by design/‘Cause I'm a mastermind

• Look What You Made Me Do

Standout lyric: I don't like your little games/Don't like your tilted stage/The role you made me play of the fool/No, I don't like you

• Everything Has Changed

Standout lyric: All I know is a simple name/And everything has changed

• Robin

Standout lyric: Strings tied to levers,/slowed down clocks tethered,/all this showmanship/To keep it, for you,/In sweetness/Way to go tiger

Francis:

• Anti-Hero

Standout lyric: It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me/At tea time, everybody agrees/I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror/It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

• The Archer (fun fact, this was originally on Richard’s, but I wanted to avoid repeats, so I switched it for Florida!!!. #soulmates)

Standout lyric: I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost/The room is on fire, invisible smoke/And all of my heroes die all alone/Help me hold onto you

• I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Standout lyric: They shake their heads saying, "God, help her"/When I tell them he's my man/But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger/I can fix him, no, really I can

• You’re Losing Me (Booooo loser!!!! Kys!!!!)

Standout lyric: And I wouldn't marry me either/A pathological people pleaser/Who only wanted you to see her

+ Bonus one (1) ☝️ Bunny song because I felt bad for not including him:

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things:

• This is why we can't have nice things, honey (oh)/Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me?/This is why we can't have nice things

[thetalltranstiefling]

I WROTE A THING POST-S2 ENDING BYE

(tw: brief self-harm, severed limb mention, death mention)

“Fuck off.”

The words Taylor said to Nicky when it was all over. “You’re a loser. Go away. You’re not a part of this family.”

And those are the words Nicky hears in his head as he’s kneeling in the flaming pit of Hell, watching his mage hand cut off his remaining arm over, and over, and over again before it regrows no problem. 

Another voice rings out, of a much younger child wishing to please his father. “Y’know what would fix this, man? Some weed, dawg. That always makes Dad feel better, right?”

It’s accompanied by a third, flat and perfectly consonated. “Have you no sense? That won’t solve anything. Listen to me instead, my Dad says-“

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” Nicky slams the flat of the sword into his own head, hard. Enough to knock him over into the ashes of his discarded limbs, all parts of him, but broken and disconnected. The ringing in his ears drowns all the voices out, letting him think for a bit. Kind of. 

He realizes at a certain point, lying with all these shattered pieces of the past he once was, that the ringing is no longer coming from his ears, but instead from his pocket. His phone. He pulls it out and clears his throat before answering, not even bothering to check who it is because 90 percent of the time it’s Glenn butt-dialing him. But instead of the drunken slurring and usual crashing sounds he’s expecting, he hears the voice of someone who knows him all too well.

“Hey…it’s Cass…” is all she says.

Nicky wants to cry and start rambling on about how good it is to hear her voice and how much he misses her but he chokes it down and just responds, “Hi Cass…it’s Nicky.” God she knows that you sound so dumb she’ll think you’re drunk and hang up!

“Can we just talk?”

She didn’t hang up. Nicky sits up, “yeah, we can talk…” He climbs out of the pit of severed arms to sit on the edge, looking down into it. “…what do you wanna talk about..?”

Cassandra sighs, watching through the window of her house as Taylor leaves for Norm’s house, where they’re having tapas to celebrate the win. She promised to join up with him, but… “I just… You never really told me why exactly you left. -I mean I kind of have a general idea. It’s not because you didn’t love me or Taylor, or anything like that. I know that… I guess, ‘for your safety,’ isn’t really a good enough answer for me. I think I have a right to know the full story.”

“Of course, yeah, of course you do… Well I… Uh,” Nicky doesn’t even really know where to begin. “Well… Long story short, I’m a tiefling from Hell- you know that-“ he has a brief flashback from their first meeting, swords flying, “yeah, and, the guys wanted to do the whole Code Purple thing on Hell, and I told them no, and Terry shot my arm off, and it didn’t come back ever-“

“Yeah, severed limbs don’t tend to,” Cassandra flexes the robotic hand she recently got calibrated. 

“Yeah…”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting there, I didn’t mean to end there- fuck I’m messing this up, I’m sorry-“

“Nicky.”

His voice cracks a little and he hates it, “yeah?..”

“It’s okay. Just slow down. Take some deep breaths.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need me to count?”

“No…”

She knows he’s lying. “Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out.”

She hears him exhale on the other side. “Good. Again.” They do this a few more times before she says, “now I’m assuming after that fight with your friends was when you came home.”

“Right…” Nicky remembers standing there in the doorway, Cass coming from the other room holding little Taylor, big grey eyes looking at him, oblivious to what was happening. “Not you, loser.”

“Why didn’t you stay?” Cassandra’s voice pulls him from his thoughts again.

“Why didn’t I stay,” he repeats to himself. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? I could’ve chosen to stay and protect them. I could’ve fought for us. I could’ve changed. So why didn’t I..? 

…

“Because I didn’t want to be for you and Taylor, what my mom was, to my dad, and me…” Nicky only realizes what this means as he says it. “Cass, I- I was worried that there was a chance that I couldn’t protect you, that I’d die trying. And then I’d be gone and that’d be it- not that I’m scared of dying, I just- I saw firsthand what a death in the family can do, the rift it creates. I experienced it. What it did to me, and what it did to my dad. That is what made me who I am-“

Part of you, Nicholas’ voice says. Never whole, only part.

“Shut up, I’m talking,” Nicky hisses back, then panics, “oh god, Cass, sorry I didn’t mean you-“

“I know. It’s okay.” Nicky remembers with a wince the time he told her about the voices. “Please, continue.”

“…I’d rather that you have a deadbeat husband who was horrible and who left you than a good one who you miss. And I’d rather that you be angry at me than grieve the loss of a love-“

“But I did grieve over you!” She shouts suddenly, and it breaks Nicky’s heart how upset she sounds. “Every single day I did, for a long long time! Because you were my husband, and Taylor’s father, and I loved you more than anything! And every day I hoped you’d come back! And that’s your problem, you have no sense of your own worth! You think you’re worth more to me dead than alive?! Really? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Cass-“ Nicky can’t hold in the tears anymore, he holds the phone away from his head so she won’t hear him sob, only to pull it back to his ear as soon as he hears any sound from the other end.

“Nicky, I trusted you to come back. And you didn’t. But that’s not even what I’m upset at you for anymore, I’ve had plenty of time to be upset at you for that. The reason I yelled- which I’m sorry for- is because I am frustrated that even after all this time you’re still so focused on your hate for yourself and this whole complex you have about ‘always screwing things up,’ that you can’t pay attention to the things around you that would fix that. You know you can talk to me about anything, and in this case some communication about how you were feeling would’ve really been helpful-“

“But I didn’t know.”

“You would’ve figured it out a lot sooner.”

Nicky goes silent, he can’t argue with that.

“Listen, if you’re going to be a part of this family still, you need to start working on how you think about yourself.”

“What- what?” Nicky’s tail slaps the ground behind him repeatedly in surprise. “But Taylor said-“

“Taylor, well, you know how he is.”

“I kind of still don’t…” Nicky admits, defeated.

“Well, he’s not the kind of person to always say exactly what he means. He’s a little ‘delulu,’ as he likes to say.”

“‘Delulu’..?”

“It just means he’s in his own little world, an anime world. And I’m sure you know animes are..?”

“Very dramatic?”

“Yes. That’s Tay for you. Very dramatic. He gets it from me I think.”

“You’re not that dramatic.”

“Well I’m an actor, so, I certainly can be.” Cass laughs a bit, and Nicky’s glad she’s not there to see him melt at the sound. “My point is, he’ll come around, if you make an effort to change.”

“…And what about you?”

“Why do you think I called, dummy? We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t love you anymore.”

“Ah…that makes sense…How badly did I freak you out when I showed up at your door that one time?”

“Well I was startled considering you were banging on the window frantically, but if I’m being honest I almost let you in.”

Nicky laughs, “at least I’ve still got some rizz left.”

“It had nothing to do with rizz! I wanted to smack you!” 

They continue talking about this or that, nothing all that important. But it’s thanks to Cassandra jamming her foot into the crack, that the slammed door does not stand completely closed.

[katriniac]

So I find myself simping hard for Artem Wing this morning, and decide to nurse that ache by re-reading my favorite Tears of Themis card stories.

First up is Por Una Cabeza

When I first pulled this card, all I knew was that I was getting ARTEM WEARING A FANCY MASK.

But then I read the story and was confused.

Like, really confused.

Spoilers below the cut if you haven't read this card yet.

This post has two parts. Maybe three if I decide to include the video call? So look in my reblogs for the rest of this recap!

This card's story is set BEFORE they are in an established relationship, before any love confession takes place.

So ... both Rosa and Artem are having similar nightmares at the beginning, but the reader isn't aware they are reading a dream.

Now that I am reading it through again, I can more fully appreciate the other-worldliness of the "nightmare" and understand why everyone is acting strangely with bad memories, lol.

The bright red digital clock face glaring at Tosa in the fancy hotel lobby makes MUCH more sense more that I know it's her own bedside alarm clock she's incorporating into her dreamscape.

Also? ALSO?!? TODAY, the day I'm reading this right now is December 24th! What are the odds! I totally forgot this story takes place on Christmas Eve, because they call the event the New Year's Ball. Idk why... 🤷‍♀️

Anyways, back to recapping my favorite moments:

🥹 @ Artem second-guessing himself, worrying about you, wondering if you're okay, and if it's his fault

Awwwww, Artem!

His pouting face!

That's just like him to be concerned, and to jump to the conclusion that it might be his fault. He also wants to get to the bottom of any problem you have, so he can:

Discover the root cause of "Problem X"

Understand the reason for your distress

And plan for ways to fix/avoid it in the future so you never have to encounter/worry about "Problem X" ever again

Yes, this man is a 'fixer' but he does more than put a cosmetic bandage on things. He wants to make sure you never have to experience that same hurt a second time. He wants to learn from his own mistakes and others to prevent problems in the future. He wants to control the outcome by preparing for any eventuality.

The amount of energy and effort he puts into his "Rosa Long-Game" is mind-boggling.

Okay, I could go on forever about Artem's control issues, how amazing he is, and what makes him perfect husband-material.

So let's not get lost in the weeds out here. Back to the story!

There is this sublime moment where the two nightmares meld, as if the two of them are sharing the same dream!

And they meet FINALLY, after hours of panicked searching and confusion:

So they eventually wake up, and they decide to text the other to see if they're awake, and it turns into a phone call. No biggie. Just a phone call. At 2am. Between coworkers. Talking about their dreams. 😘 Nothing peculiar about that, right?

Everyone does that with their colleagues, don't they??

😏 Sure .... sure.

Next:

We find out Artem only knows one dance.

Which isn't exactly weird... many dudes don't know any dances.

What is odd is the one dance this shy boy knows:

The tango?

One of the most sensual and passionate dances ever?

Really?

Really.

The tango.

That's your go-to dance, Artem?

Okay.

Let's keep reading:

Ohhhhhh.

*BREATHES*

We get a glimpse into their month-long practices.

30 days of being caged in Artem's arms, spending every day after work in close proximity, working up a sweat.

Oof.

And then once you're confident in the steps, the fun part of the "act" both partners must put on to sell the push and pull of emotions.

The haughtiness, the indignation, the desire, the attraction, the softening and relenting at last, all of that passion needed to put on a good show!

Yup...

...Just what two normal work co-workers do on a daily basis.

TOTALLY NORMAL. 😏

*nods*

Yup.

"Suitable tango partner"

Uh-huh.

Artem. Artem! Stop lying to yourself!!

And then there's THIS:

LMAO @ Artem wishing for a weapon to fight off anyone else who might try to take her away from him.

"Everyone will know"

*sucks in breath*

Possessive!Artem is a really really hawt Artem.

Just sayin'

🥵🤤🥴❤️‍🔥🫠😍

AND they mention his adam's apple! Okay, this might not be a turn-on for other people. But it is to me.

I can point at obvious times in my life where I've decided that a certain action/attribute is attraction or sexy. But not the adam's apple. I have no explanation for why I find it mesmerizing!

But bless the writer who decided to mention that specific anatomy in this story! Shout out to you for adding to my swoon! 🫡

End of Part 1 - Check the reblogs for Part 2

[upthewitchypunx]

You all seemed very confused about my last post, trust me, I'm just as confused about the casting a spell that binds someone's sexuality, but I guess that's where we are.

Look, I try to be a compassionate person, but sometimes when you reconnect with someone who was close to you over 20 years ago and invite them to live in your home it doesn't always go well.

I don't like talking about other people's stories, especially online, but this has affected our life and our home and brought chaos into our space. So, this is my story.

This old friend seems to have it together, paid rent early and had a job lined up before they got here. It seemed they were having a bit of trouble adjusting. After a few months it was clear they were going through a mental health thing for the 3rd time in 2 months and making wild accusations and doing hurtful things like smoking cigarettes and massive amounts of weed when they know they have a lung problem and abandoning cats with no food or water or not paying all their rent or giving 30 days notice before they leave town, you just have to cut ties.

This was the last straw. The one before was 2 weeks ago when I was accused of thinking they wanted to use magic to steal my partner and that somehow because I knew stuff they didn't I was making them feel bad about it and that they think I think they just want to steal all my ideas.

I was compassionate. I stayed calm. I said I was confused, asked if she was okay. A few days later she came down crying to apologize, said she wasn't okay. We talked. I told her about the Oregon Health Plan and how she could get some help. She seemed grateful and she did and had an appointment lined up.

Then last week we left for Astoria for a night and she was there at 4 pm to bring a package in but by 1pm the next day when we got home most of her things were gone except furniture that wouldn't fit in her car. We didn't really notice the things gone at first and thought maybe she had gone on a little trip because the cats were still here so we fed them and got them water, then messaged her after a few days. She claims she had a medical issue and called an ambulance. Then her family came here and towed her home. The time line doesn't make sense. Her family is a 12 hour drive away. How long was she in the hospital? How long did it take to pack her car? Why did she leave the cats? Why didn't she tell us on her own about the medical emergency?

I'm a pretty forgiving person, especially if the person is honest and isn't trying to take advantage of me. It often bites me in the ass, but at least I know I can sleep at night and treat people to my own ethical standard until I hit a point.

Last night we got more confusing messages declaring we actually wanted her cats all along and the whole binding her sexuality thing. We decided that it wasn't worth putting effort into this relationship, she's with her family now, we aren't getting blood from a stone, and that we had done as much as we could, calmly said we were confused and hurt and will find new homes for the cats, and blocked her.

I don't usually air someone's personal issues online, but this is someone you will never know, they probably won't see this, I don't really care if they do, and this is my blog and this is an incredibly frustrating, emotionally laborious, and financially unexpected experience we are going through right now and I just need to vent.

I've already contacted a cat rescue about the cute nice cat and the hissing mean cat that won't come out of the closet. Now I need to get rid of a brand new IKEA bed frame, a couch, a big clothing rack, 2 poorly constructed book shelves, a TV, a bunch of clothes and shoes, a record player that doesn't work, a giant stack of new age books, and a bunch of other random shit.

Oh, and cleanse the house of that nonsense before finding a new housemate, which a friend of a friend is interested in.

All of this while we are working to make the shop on the first floor browsable.

Please do not make disparaging comments about someone who is seriously going through something. I don't need to hear it. It won't be helpful or have a point. I'm not mad, just annoyed and wishing people had better communication.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Intimidation and Suicide

I've gotten a few targeted uh... Insults? Something about the trans suicide rate, something about PTSD being triggered by pop caps, something about I dunno... Being susceptible to Puffer Fish poison despite eating gas station sushi on the regular.

I'm literally trained in counter-insurgency, counter-terrorism, S.E.R.E. (Survival Evasion Resistance and Escape), I've recently been trained in spy tactics, which. Fun I guess.

I've created a world with my own hands that allows your children to thrive. Damn straight "Thank me for my service."

And seriously; how do you not know what an ear worm is? Do you not listen to Heavy Metal?

You're going to have to Kill Me.

I've been depressed enough to consider Suicide; and you know what? It's not from being Trans.

And I've thought it through. I know exactly what's on my bucket list that needs to get checked off that can only be done a certain way.

So you know why I keep saying that sentence? "You're going to have to kill me"?

Because you don't have it in you. Not somebody who would instead SWAT somebody and not get your own hands dirty.

I've been in the sewers you know?

The things that keep me awake at night (actually more like mid morning since I stay up all night) the things I know and am aware of... Would only serve to break you; mind, body, and soul.

Some of them... Are things you accuse me of; those things that actually exist, that you've never had to experience first-hand.

My experience is second only to those on the front lines picking IEDs and comrades bones from their teeth.

I've literally had a sitting U.S. President; in trying to save money; put my head on the chopping block for things he approved the country doing.

That action saved 0 money. In fact... It affected are National Security to such a severe degree... That he's either highly Incompetent *or* Self-Interested to such a degree he'd sellout the entire Nation if it benefitted him.

That's what you consider "Weakness" you know... Loyalty and Altruism.

Where do you think that comes from? Obviously; I'm neither loyal nor care about said random who'd wish me only bad things.

I wouldn't bother taking a weapon to the defenseless; that's not worth the effort or misery.

I sleep soundly at night to the sounds of Jet Engines and explosions.

You wanna know what keeps me awake?

You wanna know exactly how deep my anxiety goes?

Somebody who only cares about "racial purity" and "genetic heritage" would never understand what true existential fear is.

I do.

I know it so well; my therapist would tell you to your face that when I talk about my Depression and Anxiety; I do it with Smile or a straight face.

Always that suspicion that I'm lying about my Anxiety and Depression; trust me; you can't get high on Wellbutrin and Sertaline... And Weed and Whiskey are cheaper.

The problem here; Is I've learned to use compartmentalization as a tool. And much worse than that; I thrive in the heat of battle.

Trust me when I say; I want nothing more than to get in a fight with somebody who deserves it; you know that nerd meme? "Don't piss me off; you look like you give just enough XP to level up."

Yeah... I'm max level already. Id do it just because you deserve it.

Why do you think it took Six Months of streaming to showcase my entire resume? Not only Highly Skilled displays of Battle Sim; the knowledge and the physical capability to back it up.

And; I've spent the last year or so getting into shape.

I've even gotten those fun sword Jokes.

I don't need a weapon.

The only people trained or are fit enough... And there's plenty; They're either on my side or apathetic. They don't care. Only those who didn't know better, and had zero training would so recklessly and unwisely bother.

I don't have any friends for two reasons; the first is because quite a few people I know... Are awful people. And the other; is for their own safety.

Without them;; I would've already acted on my personal Ultimatum.

Man; Just Like You: I just wanna get to work, get paid, play some video games, and fucking chill. Why you gotta waste both of our time with this shit?

Do you know what keeps me up at night?

A police officer getting shot and killed and by a domestic terrorist; not anti-fa... That White Power Nazi who used his whiteness against a fellow white police officer.

That shits hilarious. So much for that racial purity bullshit. Y'all even lie about your own personal beliefs.

If we're all racing to the end of the world; Let's go; stop pussy footing around. Let's fucking go.

If not; Then what's the point?

[outxsourced]

PUPPET HISTORY SEASON 2 STARTERS

“Let’s do this, let’s get back into this nightmare.”

“That is a wildly specific reference.”

“You’re a rotten man, or thing, or whatever you are.”

“I hope that’s the last thing he ever said on earth, because that’s a very funny last quote.”

“It’s cute! It’s adorable! It’s kinda dumb!”

“So just a big wave of death, basically.”

“I think bears are the scariest animal in the world.”

“I’m good. I just finished my little snack and I’m ready to go.”

“So what I did was I captured one of the spiders, and I did burn it alive under a Slurpee cup.”

“I feel like kids are the scariest creatures on the planet.”

“Kids are just plain creepy.”

“See what happens when you teach the children?”

“You know how easy it is to kill a baby?”

“Know more. Try knowing more.”

“It’s not whimsical, it’s devastating.”

“Pole vaulting would be really funny, because there’s a possibility the pole would snap and I’d break my neck.”

“Can you think of a more baller way to go out?”

“You’ve never had a summer where your parents were like, really sick of you, and they were like ‘why don’t we just throw forty-five dollars at the problem’?”

“It’s the early nineteen hundreds, I bet there’s stray dogs everywhere.”

“We got a secret weapon, the only secret about it is we don’t know what it does.”

“Just kinda seems like a bunch of guys just made a lot of bad memories.”

“I’m gonna set you on fire.”

“Some classic Europe shit.”

“Can we say it? Isaac Newton is probably a murderer?”

“This guy’s kinda a wimp, no?”

“It’s not even a bit anymore, people are talking.”

“There’s been so many historical people that have done amazing things, and I seriously get anxious about going to the supermarket.”

“I just get really unsettled when all my little things aren’t in their little homes.”

“So usually, I won’t sleep for a week.”

“I don’t do math, I’m cute, I don’t know.”

“Thanks anyway, a-hole.”

“I’m not that giving and loving.”

“I guess that is a nice little present for the other hoes.”

“It’s generous to call it a joke.”

“I’m disgusted, I’m flabbergasted.”

“I’ve gotten a lot more into weed since the last time we hung out.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Masterpiece: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: While giving a lecture with Spencer and Rossi, a man approaches you with information regarding five missing people. Can you save them in time?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"Y/N, I need you to do something for me," Rossi says.

"Anything."

"You said he feels intimidated by women. He didn't want to look at you. I want you to come in when he least expects it to throw him off his game."

"You got it," you nod.

You, Rossi, and Spencer get up to head to the interrogation room, and Rossi looks at Spencer in confusion.

"What's our strategy going to be in there with the interrogation?"

"You're not gonna be in the room."

"What? Why?"

"That's what he wants. He wants to play with you. We have to knock him off his game. That's all we have right now."

Rossi walks into the room without your boyfriend, but he doesn't leave. You two watch from the window, and Paul looks around when he doesn't see Spencer in there.

"Where's Dr. Reid?"

"Busy."

"You have something more important going on than me?"

"My dry cleaning is more important than you."

"That's very hostile."

"I think you're just a big-mouth wannabe who doesn't have the guts to do anything at all about this."

"Well, then I guess I'm free to go. I didn't spend the last five years of my life working on a masterpiece just to fold to a bad bluff, especially to someone who doesn't even have a hand to play."

Paul grabs his jacket and opens the door to leave, and you take this moment to walk into the room. As soon as he sees you, he lowers his head and becomes super shy. He didn't act this way when he first met you because Spencer was also there. Now that it's a more intimate setting, he has nothing to do but be a coward in front of you.

"Agent Y/N, you remember Professor Rothschild, right?"

"May I?" you ask and take his jacket from him.

He walks to the wall and cowers next to it without so much as a look in your direction.

"A God like you doesn't have a problem with women, does he?" Rossi asks.

"Do I make you nervous?" you ask him.

"It's okay, Agent. I think we have everything we need to know. This is not a man who can confront a woman on an equal footing. He sneaks up on them and gets them from behind. The original seven victims, oh, they were alone when they came up missing. They had a routine, and he watched them. Hiding in the weeds like a snake... Like a coward."

You set his jacket down over the chair before leaving the room. As soon as you leave, Paul recovers and goes back to being mysterious and calm.

"That was a waste of precious time."

"Oh, it's all part of the game now, isn't it?"

"You think you know what game you're playing, David? You aren't even able to grasp what questions to ask."

"Such as?"

"How about asking what the rules are."

"Rules?"

Paul takes off his watch and sets it on the table so Rossi can see what time it is.

"Two o'clock... and then there were four. I told you that in less than ten hours, another five people would be dead. I never said they would die at the same time. I wonder which one it was--the woman or one of those precious babies." Rossi is seething at this point, but he is doing a good job at hiding it from Paul. "You have to know the rules to play the game, David. Every two hours, one of them will die. In the end, they will all be gone."

"Is there something else I need to know?"

"Only that I'm rooting for you... David."

Rossi gets up and leaves the room, but he doesn't look your way. You and Spencer follow him out of the room only to run into Penelope who is panicking.

"What's wrong?"

"It's them. They're on my screen." Everyone follows her to her office, and when she sees the computer, she frowns in confusion. "Wait, that's not right. There were four children when I went to get you."

"What's that on their faces?" Emily asks.

All three children and Kaylee are wearing some kind of mask to protect themselves from whatever gasses are pumping inside the room they're in.

"They look like gas masks."

"Why would you fill a place with gas and then provide gas masks?"

"Maybe the gas serves another purpose. Look how evenly they're spaced out, and the hoses are stretched as far as they can go without coming off. The masks are to keep them in specific positions."

"He said one of them is already dead," Spencer says.

"One of the five, and now there are only three children left. Who sent you this?" you ask Pen.

"An anonymous site emailed to me."

"He said one will die every two hours, not all five in ten. When he said ten hours, I just assumed--"

"It's a chess game, he's two moves ahead," Spencer cuts Rossi off.

"Let's not get diverted. How are we doing with the seven missing women?"

"So far, I've got thirty-nine missing brunettes in central Virginia," Penelope says, pulling up the pictures of all the women missing.

"Kaylee is about thirty, so look at the women who are at that age. Narcissists tend to be extremely preferential."

Penelope types in the parameters, which narrows down the list.

"Twenty-eight."

"He said he's been working on this for five years, so check within the last five years."

"Seventeen," Penelope says after typing some more.

"Alright, if he thinks he's going to jail for even one of the original seven homicides, maybe he'll tell us where the rest of them are and give himself some deal room. How long do we have until the next one?"

"One hour and forty-eight minutes."

"Dave, can I speak to you for a second? The rest of you, see if you can figure out who might have been the original seven."

Hotch and Rossi go off to the side while the rest of you go to the briefing room with printouts of the women on Penelope's list. Each woman has their own file with everything regarding their disappearance. You can eliminate some of them based on the circumstances of their disappearances, so you know they won't be Paul's victims.

The ones you have suspicions about, Penelope writes on the whiteboard, and before you know it, you have five names already on there. Hotch walks into the room without Rossi, and you know he is with Paul.

"How are we doing?"

"We already have five women we believe are his victims," Emily says.

"I might have another," you state and hold up the file in your hands. "Her name was Margaret Peters. She disappeared in 2006 on her way to work. She was last seen at a coffee shop she went to every morning."

"That's number six," Spencer says as Penelope writes her name down. "We need one more."

The screen JJ usually uses to showcase new cases to the team has the live footage of Kaylee and the three children. You look up to see Kaylee trying to talk to the child furthest from the camera. She gestures for the little boy to run to her, and he takes a deep breath before doing so. She gives him her mask, and she checks on the other children before swaying over to the mask the child left behind.

"She put herself closest to the end, farthest from the camera. Why?"

"Maybe she knows something we don't like she doesn't have a lot of time. Let's continue," Hotch sighs.

"I have Lindsey Connor. She was last seen when she stepped out to have a cigarette while having a blown tire fixed."

"That doesn't sound routine. I don't think she was one of them," you shake your head.

"What about Lisa McDaniel? She went missing in Saluda, North Carolina in early 2008 while on her daily jog." That sounds like one of his victims, so Penelope writes her name on the board. "That's seven, and including Kaylee, that makes eight." Penelope puts their pictures on the big screen while still keeping the live footage up. "They're all incredibly beautiful."

"Almost unnaturally," Spencer comments.

"What are the chances that three out of our seven victims are from the same town?" Penelope asks.

"That's not a coincidence. He chose it that way."

Spencer gets a picture from Derek who is at Kaylee's house with Jordan. He took a picture of one of the bedrooms where a bunch of kids' toys are arranged in a weird way. They are in a circle with a line of them going down the middle.

"Morgan just sent this to me from the Robinson house."

Spencer looks at the picture and then at the board with all the names on it. He has such a smart brain that he sees with more than just his eyes. You're not sure what is going on inside his head, but he grabs the marker and makes a circle over the names, and draws a line down the middle of it.

"1-1-2-3-5," he mutters.

"Does that mean something?" you ask.

"I know where to find them."

Without another word, he rushes out of the room. He knows where to find them, and the pendant around Paul's neck is going to help him find them. As soon as he gets the pendant, he walks back to the briefing room with it in his hands.

"Garcia, can you put the map of Virginia up on screen? It's an irrational number known as 'Phi'. It's based on the ratio of line segments to each other and of the whole. It's called the golden ratio," Spencer explains. "It's a ratio found all through life. In fact, many people that we find conventionally attractive are proportioned based on that ratio. He made a reference to Leonardo da Vinci, remember this? Da Vinci used it in a lot of his paintings. As a matter of fact, the last supper--"

"Reid, Reid, how do we find them?" Hotch cuts him off before he goes on a tangent.

"Right. The whole concept is represented by this pendant, including the logarithmic spiral created by using a Fibonacci sequence. Follow me on this. You can manipulate this image, right?"

"Tell me what you need," Penelope says.

"Pull up all the towns that the missings are from." She does what he asks. "Wonderful. We had one in Richmond, one in Dinwiddie, two in Gloucester Point, three in Saluda, and finally five in Loretto this morning. 1-1-2-3-5 is a Fibonacci series. Each number is added to the number before it. Now geometrically, it can be expressed as a spiral. It's called a logarithmic spiral. Can you put the spiral up on the map?" Again, Penelope does so. "Thanks. Okay, now flip it 180 degrees." The image flips like he wants. "Now make it bigger. ... Bigger ... just a little bit bigger. The pendant is like a key." He puts the pendant on the screen, and Penelope marks the middle of it. "Chester, Virginia."

"You're sure?" Rossi asks.

"With his level of obsession with these numbers, the ratio will have permeated his entire life. If we took a city map of Chester, the location where Kaylee and her children are being held, it would follow one of these points on that map as well. The ratio works with any scale at all."

The spiral connects all of the cities to be a perfect spiral, so you know they are in Chester, Virginia.

"That's my boyfriend," you say proudly.

"Morgan and Todd are closer. Call them and tell them to get to Chester. I'm gonna get a chopper ready. Reid and Y/N, get a city map and you're with me."

"There's still something bugging me about this still," Rossi sighs.

While Rossi tries to figure that out, you, Hotch, and Spencer head out to the helicopter to get to Chester faster. Derek and Jordan are already on their way over to the house, and they get there as soon as you land.

You take out your gun and rush over to the house, but before you can get too close to it, you stop and put your hands out to stop everyone else from going further.

"Wait!"

"What's going on?" Hotch asks.

"This place is a trap." Angry red energy is floating around the property, but it slithers around the back of the property into a patch of trees. You see yourself walking through the front door, and a cloud of acid gets blown into your face. "The acid tanks are in the back. If we go through the front door, we'll die."

"How do we get inside?" Derek asks.

"We disengage the acid tanks. Once we do that, we can enter through the front."

"That's my girlfriend," Spencer smiles proudly.

You lead the group to the acid tanks, and Derek and Hotch turn them off to prevent everyone from dying a horrible death. They take off the hoses to take that extra step, and now the house is clear to go inside.

"Thank you for saving our lives," Derek says as he passes by you.

"Don't mention it."

Your group heads inside to see pictures of the Mona Lisa and the spiral everywhere. In the back of the room is a concrete door with a camera outside of it, and you know Kaylee and the kids are inside. Paul really wanted to make this as easy as possible because there is a key already in the lock.

With the acid tanks out of the way, Kaylee and all four kids are saved. The one you thought had disappeared was only separated by a concrete door. Ambulances are called to the house to take care of Kaylee and the kids as well as the kids' parents.

"Thank you," Spencer says to you. You and Spencer are off to the side while Hotch is on the phone with Rossi. "For saving our lives."

"You'd do it for me," you smile up at him. "How are you doing with your parents?"

"Much better. What about yours?"

"My dad still has some issues with you, but I believe he'll come around. He just needs to get to know you, that's all. He's being more stubborn than usual, and he's not going to like you for a while, but he will eventually."

"Listen, I had my suspicions about Paul and this case, and I followed my gut just like you did with the acid tanks. My gut is saying something isn't right with your parent's business. If you don't mind, could I look into it?"

You're not sure why, but this really pisses you off.

"Spencer, nothing is going on with them. They're my parents! I stood by your side with your dad, why won't you do the same with me? You accused him of murdering that child, but he didn't do it. You thought he did it, but he was innocent. Why are you picking on my dad? Is it because he doesn't like you? He doesn't like anyone!"

"Y/N, I understand your anger, but I really do think something is wrong here. This is different from my dad's situation."

"Spencer, please let it go! There is nothing going on with my mom and dad. They are normal parents who are very protective over me. Nothing is wrong, and don't you think I'd know about it with my abilities?"

"Your judgment can be clouded due to your relationship with them."

"Seriously, just drop it. I'm not going to give you permission to look into their foster business, and I'm done repeating myself."

You walk off to calm down, and Spencer watches you with concerned eyes. Whenever he has this feeling, he's usually right, and for some reason, he can't shake this off.

"Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

x

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[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i'm a woman with substance use disorder. i didn't get sober through some grand noble journey to Get Better (not that there's a single thing wrong with that!). how i got sober differed depending on the substance. one medication, for a long time i kept stringing psychiatrists along and eventually was unable to keep getting my prescription, and i was going through a string of moves so i was unable to get it off the street, so getting off it wasn't really a choice (i do have one dose left though, i hold onto it just to feel like i have the option to use it if i need). another medication, i still have a prescription for but the comedown was getting so brutal that i just couldn't handle it anymore, so i don't often get the urge to use it because i know what fresh hell is waiting for me on the other side. i did used to have a daily weed use habit, but as i got older i my allergy to it randomly got worse so i had to stop that too. drinking i still struggle with, i binge every single time, but tbh nowadays i'm too lazy to keep up on my stock so the problem is more under control. all this to say, i guess my advice is to try to make it as inconvenient as possible to use, for me that's a big deterrent. you could also try to allow yourself use but on a very strict schedule, like only on a certain day(s) or only x number of times a week. PLEASE remember to ask yourself H.A.L.T. (are you Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired?), it helped me address some of the underlying causes of my use which helped me reduce it. i've heard people who swear up and down by AA or NA or groups like that. they have a big religion component and the men there can be scummy but having that support and a social group can make a world of difference, for me it was a general group therapy group. i do also think there's something that can happen to addicts where we can become addicted to being sad/suffering, like there's an edginess to it that makes you feel smarter and cooler and more honest than everyone else, like no one else Gets the Depth Of Being Human and they're all naive and etc. no one likes to talk about it but it's true, and acknowledging that i was in love with being at my lowest really called me out on my own shit. i'm keeping you in my thoughts and wishing you the absolute best luck, it'll suck so hard but it's 1000% worth it <333 ily

oh my god thank you so much this actually already helps a lot! and yeah there is such an identity component to drug use many dont talk about… its true. i mean my therapist will help me to get in some sort of program so i really do have access to resources and shit and i think going to a clinic is not the issue but life after… i have tried going sober several times and always had some sort of yoyo effect basically. i also dont just struggle with substances but other addictions and lack of impulse control too. and ive tried doing it in moderation but it never works out longterm. the HALT tip is actually gold, thank you thank you thank you for sharing and your advice and your kind words it means a lot! 🩷

[futurequibblerjournalist]

I mean this in like,,,,,, such a good way but wtAf is crownest?? Lol agggghhh you're so creative!!!!!!!! You've put SO much thought into like,, everyone lol it's so cool!!! I really really really really don't wanna spamm but I can't get enough of your hcs!!! Um um ummmm yea I'd really like to hear about crownest and emof@gg0t lol uh censoring just in case ykkk um but I loved Avery!!!!!!!! He's so silly/pos

Idk the way you describe everyone makes them feel like actual characters yk and like,,,,,,,, idk I've never heard of these but I would be really interested in like how u think like all these characters and ships n stuff work Aggghh I just love ur interpretations!!

SUPER long anon, sosososo sorry

-🍃

Oh my god I've been trying to answer this for so long my beloved weed anon but idk what's happened, my inbox has exploded jngjbngjb (I am beyond thankful, love love love all the questions vjfnbjg)

Crownest is Severus and Igor! I talked a bit about those two being stupid exes and Igor running around following Severus in Goblet of Fire (he's both trying to confide in him because Severus is one of the few people Igor trusts but also cause he's trying to get his dick wet). Severus gets assigned as Igor's roommate and general aid when he spends his last year abroad at Hogwarts and Severus hates it because Igor is clingy and yet he's a complete dorm dweller and he's clever but at the same time he's so fucking stupid. Igor struggles because of the language barrier and he's refusing to use the translator he's been made to bring along from Durmstrang. They're sort of friends who wouldn't really be friends under many other circumstances but losers gotta stick together I guess

Idk where in the timeline this happens but they start fucking around at some point. I don't think they're ever boyfriends or anything labelled, they're just conveniently fucking whenever they both need to get off. They're just,, in no way good for each other but the sex is good and they're both messy and kinda lonely and they like that it's no strings attached because it genuinely is

Tw: mentions of alcoholism

Then there's emofaggot vjgnbjgnbjg I am actually screaming at the fact that you used that name for them cause it really was just my stupid placeholder name for them. I played around with a few ship names for them but I think I've settled on wiseprince (wise comes from barn owls which is the animal that represents the Avery family like how peacocks represent the Malfoy family)

I'm so glad you liked Edmund,, he really is just,, my silly piece of shit (I know /pos means positive but I just keep reading it as piece of shit and honestly he is a silly piece of shit so it fits vjnfbjgnb)

These two are way more complicated than crownest imo. They've always been close, they've found comfort in each other and in softness they didn't have with other people (I think they got closer each time Severus drifted further away from Lily (I also think it's so funny that Lily canonically references that she's got less of a problem with Edmund than the rest of the group he hangs around with cause like,, yeah he's your ex besties stupid little homophobic boyfriend of course you like him just a smidge more). They've both got parents who struggle with alcohol abuse in varying degrees and with varying outcomes, but at the end of the day they share that feeling of cold running down one's back after smelling alcohol on someone's breath.

Edmund tries to step into Lucius's shoes when he graduates, he gives Severus extra clothes or hand-me-downs, he tries to get him to use the nice shampoos and conditioners he picked out with his mother in Diagon Alley. They bathe together for years just so they can chat more and see no problem with it. They cuddle up on the couch together in front of the fire and that's just what they do. They used to share a dorm along with Mulciber until Severus gets put in charge of, in Edmund's eyes, babysitting Igor. They spent way too many nights in each other's beds, cuddling and reading together, studying, yapping about whatever. Edmund puts curlers in at night and does a way too intricate moisturising routine and Severus just stands behind him, watching him through the mirror and keeping him company.

Through all of this, Edmund is fiercely homophobic and also engaged to an even more fiercely homophobic lesbian who's clocked him since day one. He's in denial and then he's not and then he is again and it's all a mess. Edmund really chose the ugliest fucker out there and was like "yes that's the one I wanna lose my mind over". Honestly, I can't blame his poor fiancé for low-key bullying him

I'm so beyond flattered you love them so much!! I really do try to give them both flaws and more positive sides even if they're a "good"/"bad" person, you know? I'm not a fan of excusing behaviour, most of these characters are shitty people in one way or another but that doesn't mean they've always been like that or that they stay like that or that they're 110% like that all the time!! Most of these are just based off of my own silly little thoughts though I can't take all the credit cause at least some of these were bounced off of a friend vnfjnbjgb

[ftm-baby-doll]

I’ve noticed people are treating me differently.

i am a student who isn’t popular or even well known. sure, i have many friends from many groups but i don’t really hang out with anyone.

i dont stand out as pretty , or at least i dont think i do. i dont think people usually undress me with their eyes.

but today was different. i was quite tired when i arrived. the sun wasn’t put yet but it was what time i could make the commute. i dragged myself across the empty campus until i found a empty corridor to lay in. i turned off the lights, threw a blanket over me, curled up into a ball, and slept.

about 2 hours later i am finally awaken by a teacher. im so groggy i let them continue the comments of my dead appearance as i wake.

i stumble out of the now filling corridor out into the hallways.

i am almost immediately stopped by a guy my age that has shown interest in me. his gaze tears off my clothes. he mentions my blanket. i tell him i was just asleep. he says i should have invited him.

im nice, well im scared of conflict. i let him say this and i simply nod my head to agree. he smiles wide as he follows me to the food court. he mentions the terrible selection of food. i heckle him and tell him to eat apple sauce as i grab one. we depart ways.

i start walking to where one of the groups of friends i know is usually. quickly i overhear these guys.

“yo she’s really hot look.” i quietly overhear their conversation curious as to who they were talking about

“her?” one of asks with bafflement.

“yeah!” the other responds. then, i notice they are looking at me.

i make a point to pretend to ignore them and im quite good at that. they continue.

“look at her ass!” someone else in the group comments. these pants do fit me. For once i’m not wearing baggy jeans.

i’m so shocked.

i have never been treated like this before.

keep in mind, i dont look outwardly feminine. I have a mullet, i wear all mens clothes, i have a small always binded chest. but, my ass is big and my hips are wide. i hide my curvy waist with my baggy clothing. today i wore a long sleeve boxy shirt and cargo pants.

i continue to walk i cant let this distract me. i turn to see that group of friends is gone. i think through my options of what to do for the next 20 minutes while i search for random people i mutually know.

i call a friend and she begs me to meet her so i oblige. I wait by the entrance of the school. One my mutuals approaches me. i greet her and explain just how tired i am. i turn back around to see the group of guys from before. i accidentally look one of them in the face. he doesnt miss a step. he asks me,

“Your stomach is out. I can see it.”

I turn to look away from him as he speaks to me. i flush with embarrassment. this shirt is lightly cropped. you cant see more than an inch of my waist but i guess its enough to notice. me and the mutual. run away to another corridor. as i frantically search for the girl im meeting, i compain about my problems. i admit to the first person at the school that i take photos of myself nude for others. but, i trust her to not tell.

i meet with the girl i was needing to. she drags me into the girls bathroom to get me high. i swear, these girls on my campus treat me like their dog.

She puts me into a stall and convinces me to smoke more and more by taking another puff herself. once i start loudly complaining about how high i am she tells me i dont have to smoke anymore with a giggle.

one of her friends arrive. they complain about the lack of other drugs on campus while i add useless high comments to the conversation. their decide to go search for their friend. i am dragged into another girls bathroom.

i am off in my own world. this is a normal situation for me. people love to drag me around to get intoxicated with them. i follow cause i usually feel too bad not to. and i mean who says no to free weed?

i dont remember this part. i was too high. i walked to class and got in fine. i got through my first lecture fine.

the next class is in 2 hours. so, while i wait to get hungry i hang out in the weightlifting room.

i go into the lockers and change. i dress into a shirt a size too big and wide legged yoga pants. i head into the weight room to realize that the teachers are gone. Great, now im stuck here. I begrudgingly head into the gymnasium. I find a private corner to myself while i prepare for the next hours of nothing. i begin to lightly stretch my hips. as soon as i stand, i notice another group of boys approaching me. im utterly confused and it shows.

“yo, you’re hot. whats your snap.” the tallest of them ask. i tilt my head to look at him.

“i dont want to.” i snap back. i make a point to sound annoyed.

“ooh! you hear that! she said no!” the other guys heckle the taller.

“come on girl, dont be like that.” he approaches closer.

i quickly move off the wall and walk away hastily. i take refuge next to a guy ive talked to a couple of times. i tell him what happened and he said i should have given them my snapchat. i call him a dick. once the group leaves and the lockers open again, i go in and change.

i finally decided im ready for lunch. i meet up with the girl from the morning and begin to recount what is happening to me today. she tells me they’re just trying to make fun of me. i dont care either way honestly.

i eat lunch and head to my classes unbothered. well, that was until my last lecture.

me and my professor are friends. none of the students are allowed to know he talks to me privately out of school. i do nothing this class period but react to how dumb his students are with him.

Some guy who sat next to me today started talking to me. i ignore him for the first 10 minutes until i finally snap.

i ask annoyed, “what? is there something you want? how can i help?”

he asks “how old are you?”

i say just as annoyed my age. he sounds in disbelief as he realizes that i am younger than him. i go back to ignoring him.

the men sat right behind me are friends with him i think. i notice how they make comments on how my body looks. i am so shocked but i won’t confront them. i don’t want them to know i can hear them.

the guy gives me a piece of paper. i ask my only friend in the class to read it for me. it says simply “talk 2 me baby”

i look at the guy in belief. he smiles.

-

-

i felt like a total slut today. i loved it. i don’t know what i did today to get this attention but oh isnt it nice.

i wonder if someone on campus has seen my naked body before. hell, im sure so but do they know it was me? im so curious as to what would happen if everyone found out what a slut i am. but, lets hope ot doesnt happen haha~

[silvanoir]

people who tear plants together

I know it's not fair of me, I know, I know, because work friend's life has been and is so much worse than mine, but I couldn't help but talk to him after work about my problems because I have no one else to listen who actually CARES. I can tell other people but they don't care. Maybe because we both have anxiety and so can relate even though it manifests differently in each of us, most of the time...

But as I was talking outside the work building I was nervously picking the weeds and tearing them into shreds. This is a bad habit of mine I've had since a kid. After some time.... he starts doing it too (not a thing I've seen him do before).

Oh no, not only have I dumped my problems on him when he has enough problems but I've also given him a new bad habit. At least it's a harmless one.

He also ended up saying things to me that I was going to say to him at some time in my many efforts to try to make his life better. "Cheer up buttercup" and "At least you have me in your corner now" like.... literally I was going to say those exact things other days.

Mannnnnnn.... we are on such the same wavelength, why couldn't we have met sooner in life, not now middle-aged and falling apart. Why didn't I start talking to him (in depth, get to know him) way back when he first started working in my building 10 years ago (ok I had some reasons why, mostly that I thought he was a party guy who would want nothing to do with someone like me, but wish I knew then what I know now).

Or if we had bumped into eachother and started talking in Borders, when we both hung out there unaware of eachothers existence, in the early 2000s

.... no I can't think about that one because of what he said about that.... that thing that's been ping-ponging in my brain since... That thing that's such a moot point because everything after that up to and including the present and immediate future means it could've only been THEN... our bookstore AU, I guess. The one where we meet and help eachother avoid the worst in our lives.

....

to end it on a better note, (AU made me think of this) last week he was wearing a shirt with the company logo. Only it wasn't the company letters. Instead it was OTP. with "Shipping anywhere, anytime" underneath it. And.... he had NO IDEA what that meant. He thought OTP somehow meant security? And shipping was the normal world kind of shipping, shipping boxes. I had to explain it to him, much to my amusement. As I was he asked things like "Is it a literary term?" lol not quite "I'm going to look that up in the library" good luck my dude! The best way I found to describe it to him was "One's favorite fictional couple, one you rooted for them to get together like people root for sports teams". Then I asked him who his OTP was and at first he said "Romeo & Juliet... wait no, that's not fictional that's a true story" my guy... "Mork & Mindy?" you and your re-runs "Bones?" "Bones???" he clarified he meant the main couple from the show Bones, but I never watched that show, "I got it, Thelma & Louise, I like the part when they drove off the cliff" sure sure, whatever floats your boat.