#my brain hurts sorry

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push the heel of my palm into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[cedarw00div]

*Pointing at myself in the mirror* Liking horrible men is bad for your mental health, liking horrible men is bad for your mental health, liking horrible men is bad for your mental health, liking horrible men is ba-

[prismit]

to any nonbinary people reading this, never forget:

you can collect SOUL by striking enemies. once enough SOUL is collected, you can hold B to focus SOUL and regain health.

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

[potato-lord-but-not]

ep 42 is the first episode I caught as it dropped and like. It never occurred to me how devastating these month long breaks between episodes was until now. actually sobbing crying

[koszmarnybudyn]

So this song fits them so very well right?

[lazylittledragon]

what do you mean youre technically a detransitioner cause of terf bullshit?

it's a v long story but i detransitioned for a couple of years when i was 16/17, for multiple reasons but mostly because i fell into the blaire white/kalvin garrah chamber of "you have to be This way to be trans otherwise you're not real".

i was already Deeply insecure about myself and my 'passing' and i was led to believe that i couldn't want to wear makeup or skirts, and i couldn't choose not to have bottom surgery, and i couldn't do anything but bind for 12+ hours a day to the point that my ribcage is still misshapen. basically i thought that if i wasn't suffering enough doing 'feminine' things, i couldn't really be trans, so i should just go back to being a girl and suck it up.

the terf bullshit is because i'd seen a lot of terfs/detransitioners talking about the 'dangers' of testosterone and how it would turn me into a horrible ugly evil monster and how there was nothing worse than wanting to be a man. which combined with 'you need to fully medically transition to be valid at all' creates some very dangerous and upsetting feelings to cope with.

it also came from trying really hard to put myself in a little box before i realised that my sexuality/gender are very fluid and it's FINE for me not to have a label and just do whatever i want. when i was 19 or so i went back to using they/them (and eventually he/him) and changed my name again because even though i like doing 'feminine' things, i don't want to be seen as a woman.

tldr: i was conditioned by transphobic/terf rhetorics to think that i was being trans the 'wrong' way so i couldn't be trans at all, so i believed i must actually be a girl if i still wanted to do 'feminine' things. nowadays i am a transmasc who does feminine things because i don't give two shits about what any transmed prick thinks of me anymore.

[linkedin-offficial]

unrequited (in more ways than one)

⠀

[moeblob]

Guy in a black shirt: ew he's wearing color. (shaking hands emoji) Guy in a white shirt: ew he's wearing color.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

I'm leaking.

[screams-of-the-damned84]

godd these last pages have been so heart wrenching for everyone but who really breaks my heart is Rachel. if anyone’s feeling like a fool it’s her!! turns out your best friend of however many years/boss and your other bestfriend/little brother surrogate are the same person and you don’t know if something happened to one of them or if they’re even real or if it was all just an act or what!! but you cared SO much for them and you were so so worried and maybe a little overprotective, but you were trying to get better, you were working on it, but turns out it was all a lie!! you knew them- you thought you knew them, him- only to watch in horror as one transforms into the other. you loved them and laughed with them and worried and cried for them and for what? why? what was the point? did you just spend the last two years babying your boss? did your oldest friend decide to fuck with you and act like someone else? was it just for fun? did something happen to him- did he do this to himself? how didn’t you notice something was so wrong? were you just a tool to use? part of a game you didn’t even know you were playing? was hyde even real? was any of this real? you still care for both of them, though, whoever, whatever, they are. you still spent all that time together, all those conversations and bonding moments and everything else- surely that meant something, right? some part of you still wants to help. but what the hell are you supposed to do? where do you even start? what do you even say?

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

Okay. I have a lot to explain. First:

Listen- I am REALLY sorry for not drawing a lot. For the last month (by this point it’s probably been a month), I’ve been really, really behind on drawing and TSAMS lore. I don’t really feel that I’m apart of the fandom anymore. I just lost all my energy to actually dedicate myself to the lore of the show. I feel exhausted. Plus, school isn’t helping. For the last two weeks it’s been kind of hard for me, I mean aside from my trip, but then I had to catch up on work then do 1 project. I had two tests today.

Art block is hitting hard and I hope you understand. I just feel like I want to draw, I have a lot of ideas, I just can never get a result I actually like. It’s a process of drawing and deleting all my progress. I feel like it’s either 1., I make too much art, which in turn exhausts me further, or 2., I don’t make art at all. I’ve just been lurking around Tumblr and going around, like “oh I’m so going to draw this”, but I’m realizing that I definitely do not have enough energy to draw anything TSBS right now.

My main focus at the moment is school and school only. I hope you understand this because I had a shit ton of late work I had to do from the days I missed while I was away (7 fucking pages), and I had to zoom through that, THEN I had the science test. I had my math test today and I did well and now I’m tired af. I just don’t feel like drawing in general, period. Coloring maybe, but I just have too many things to do OUTSIDE of drawing online on here. Basically this is just me taking a small break. I’m sorry that content may be slower on my account, but I feel like I need this or else I will eventually just actually pass out from the stress. No one did nothing wrong aside from me. I’m just torturing myself. My brain hurts and my sleep schedule is damaged. Planning events is NOT fun and every weekend, I seriously just want a break, but OH someone’s coming over or we’re doing something or we’re going somewhere. I seriously cannot take a break unless I have NOTHING TO DO, which is kind of impossible considering my mother’s plans.

I just don’t feel like drawing. I feel like I’m starting to sleep more early everyday. My mind is a mess. It hurts. It hurts.

I’m just so sorry about this. I hope you guys understand I may not be in the best mental state (even if I act like I’m not, and same at with school, @kiwikay3 …), and I don’t feel like drawing for a bit. Just expect me to give you updates once in a while and maybe that’s it. Just don’t expect a ton of content or doodles from me.

This problem has nothing to do with you guys, I just want you to know this and know what to expect from me from now on. I’ll catch up with all my art requests and things like that eventually, I just feel like school has taken a toll on me. On my health. But, just myself overall. I don’t want anyone to worry. I’ll probably be active less and less so it’s fine if you unfollow me or something because I feel like I’ve already failed you all, and I’ve already reached the peak of my art journey (mid-October or so). I’m so sorry but I feel like when I write these I just get so emotional and I can’t really describe any of it in words. I’m probably going to sleep after this before I actually start crying. I’m actually so annoyed and sad and I just feel so many emotions. My brother is not helping, because HE does not care about his physical health so me and my parents do instead.

Sorry. Thank you all.

I feel like I’m going to have a mental breakdown fuck i hate this

[cheeseburger443]

Mornin' Cheese, got a more meta question: which other Disney villains d'ya think Frollo would get along with, if any? 👀

Uhhh.....maybe Jafar. Personally, because I think both have certain similarities, they're both manipulative and... pompous lol. I also realized when they are not putting on a polite public face, we can see how spiteful, abusive, and quick to anger they are 💀 With such similarities, I believe he is the one with the courage to confront Frollo and provoke him:)) Both of them are of high status so they will have many things in common to talk about.👁️👄👁️

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

⭐︎◦_✦ first snow

ellie williams x reader

Summary: it's the first proper snow of the year, and no, Ellie won't let you sleep in.

No use of Y/N, fem/gn reader (BECAUSE ELLIE LIKES WOMEN AND IM NOT INVALIDATING HER IDENTITY, SO NO MALE READER SORRY)

Warnings: profanity, not proofread as always, no spoilers for either games or the show. definitely a little ooc but i havent played the games for a few months. again kinda short :(

A/N: here it is !! i was gonna write this the other day, but my brain did a thing so i wrote some ass sam drake headcanons instead just to get SOMETHING out. sorry if this is badly written i just wanted to write something for ellie lol

also heads up i MIGHTMIGHTMIGHT do a similar thing for abby anderson idk yet but keep ur eyes peeled

“Wake up.” Those are the words that rouse you from your warm, comfortable sleep, at fuck-off o’clock in the morning on your day off. You groan and roll over, covering your eyes with your arms. You mumble something along the lines of what the fuck incoherently as you go, pulling the blanket up to your chin. 

“Wake the fuck up.” 

At this, you remove your arm and open your eyes. Your girlfriend is always the gentlest when it comes to waking you; gently caressing your face, kissing your forehead, whispering pet names. Never has she employed the word fuck when getting you out of bed. 

“Ellie,” is all you manage to say, your voice hoarse and scratchy. 

“It’s snowing.” 

You turn slowly, and realise that she’s right- thick snowflakes are falling outside, turning the garden white and shiny. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. 

“I see that,” you finally mumble when you’re done yawning. Ellie is looking at you expectantly, and you realise that she’s dressed in her jeans and green sweatshirt. You peek over the edge of the bed, and find that she’s even wearing her boots. Her coat has clearly been thrown onto the back of a chair, and is currently dripping onto the floor. 

“Do you…” 

“Yes,” she says, not even allowing you to finish your sentence. “Yes, I would like to go outside.” She’s grinning like a small child, and God knows you can’t reject a face like that. 

“Okay,” you say. “Okay, yeah. Gimme a sec.” You wriggle out from under the covers, shivering as the cold hits you. Ellie is smiling so widely you worry that it must hurt; she watches as you get out of bed and open your drawers, pulling out some warm clothes. You hear her snort as you give the pits of the top you’re wearing a quick sniff and decide that it’s still wearable; you turn back to her and make a face. 

As soon as you’re done putting on your boots, she’s grabbed your hand and she’s tugging you to the door. She’s somehow managed to put her coat on, and even helps you wind your scarf around your neck as she opens the door. 

“Slow down,” you mutter, but you’re smiling at her. There’s something infectious about her excitement that makes you forget everything for a moment. 

You see that there is already a lap of footprints around the garden. You’re pretty sure the culprit is the girl holding your hand, looking up excitedly at the sunrise. She takes you to the stables, and then insists that you both take the same horse. Eventually, you agree, clambering onto Shimmer behind her and winding your arms around her waist. She talks all the way to the gates, and you listen, chin resting on her shoulder. She tells you about the most recent book she’s read; an old pre-outbreak novel about a man stranded on Mars. She eventually goes quiet, though, admiring the falling snow as Shimmer steadily trots towards your destination. You shut your eyes for a moment, and she leans into you slightly. She’s humming softly, and you join in. It’s an old Christmas tune Maria likes to sing, which you two have picked up from the last time she cooked for you. You can’t remember the name, but you like it. You’re pretty sure Ellie does too. 

“So,” you say finally when you’re both done humming. Your eyes are still closed, and you’re pretty close to dozing off. 

“Yeah?” Ellie murmurs. 

“Where we goin’?” You ask lightly, toying with a strand of her hair.

“Surprise,” she answers, her smile evident in her voice. “You’ll know when we get there.” 

“Oh no,” you laugh, tightening your arms around her waist. “I hate surprises.” 

“You’ll like this one,” she assures you. 

“Is it…” you hesitate, suddenly slightly concerned. You’ve only brought your handgun with you; you don’t even know if Ellie has anything on her that isn’t her knife. 

“Yeah,” she says, catching on to what you’re saying in a heartbeat. “We scouted it yesterday; it’s totally safe. Don’t worry.” 

You two go on in silence for a while longer, listening to the soft whistling of the wind and the crunch of Shimmer’s hoofs in the snow. It’s so peaceful; a kind of peace that’s hard to find in this world, with raiders and infected around every corner. But right now, it’s just you and your girlfriend, and good luck to anything that tries to disturb this moment. 

You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep until Ellie wakes you with a gentle squeeze of your wrist. You stretch, and she helps you off Shimmer, gloved hand gripping yours. You realise she’s nervous; she’s gnawing on her bottom lip in that endearing way of hers, and she seems to be bouncing on the heels of her shoes. “C’mon,” she says as soon as you’re on your feet again. You smile at her and follow, boots crunching in the fresh snow. She’s stopped Shimmer behind a tall wall, the only remnant of a now lost building. You wonder briefly what it used to look like, but that thought is quickly erased from your mind when she takes you to the other side of the wall. You clasp a hand over your mouth and gasp. You are standing a few feet away from the edge of a cliff, overlooking the whole of Jackson. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen; the lights are twinkling soft and orange, the whole sky a bright pinkish red as the sun rises. The snow makes everything ten times brighter; it almost hurts your eyes to look. But the brightest thing of all is your girlfriend’s smile. She isn’t looking at the view; her gaze is locked on you, your reaction to what she is showing you. You turn to her, and without really thinking, grab the front of her jacket and kiss her. She kisses back immediately, her gloved hands coming up to cup your face and gently pulling you closer to her. The cold is forgotten to you; the only thing worth feeling is her mouth against yours. You’re both red when you pull away, gasping for air and giggling. She tilts her head, putting her arms around your waist and pulling you closer. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say softly, reaching up and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Ellie.” 

She grins at you, leaning forwards and nudging your forehead with her nose. “Told you you’d like it,” she says cheekily, her mouth brushing your skin as she gloats. “Ass,” is your eloquent response. You laugh and turn back to the view, arms still around your girlfriend. “I can’t believe I’ve never been up here before.” 

“We only found a path up to it on patrol last night,” she says. “It was Jesse’s idea to bring you up here.” You smile. Oh, Jesse, ever the romantic type. 

“So,” you say, turning back to her. “What do you wanna do?” 

“I don’t know. This is as far as my masterplan went,” she admits. 

“Oh, you had a masterplan?” 

“Oh, yeah. It was very well crafted.” 

You laugh. “Oh, I’m sure it was.” 

“It was!” 

She’s laughing too now, swaying back and forth with you. You tilt your head to match her, and she kisses you again, pulling you close with a hand on the small of your back. You reciprocate more than happily, fingers tangling in her hair. 

She kisses so softly- you remember the first time you ever kissed, you had expected it to be kind of rough, almost painful (although you wouldn’t have complained). But instead, she was so gentle, not doing anything that you might not have wanted, always pulling away at the slightest hesitation from you. To you, she really is perfect. 

“Okay,” you say when she breaks from you, “wanna build a snowman?” She laughs, kisses you again. You laugh too. 

“Yeah, let’s build a snowman,” she says after a moment of laughing and kissing. “Let’s build two snowmen. One each. Actually-“ her eyes twinkle mischievously- “best snowman wins.” “I wasn’t aware this was a competition,” you say, mock-offended. “Well, alright then. But be warned, I’m gonna kick your ass.” “Oh yeah?” She pulls away and almost sprints to a spot in the snow, already shovelling it into a little ball. “We’ll see about that.” You mimic her, crouching down and making a ball with the snow. You haven’t brought carrots or anything else of the sort to decorate the snowman, but neither of you care. 

Very quickly, your snowman-making competition dissolves into giggling and half-hearted snowball throwing. You can’t even gather enough snow to make the second part of your snowman’s body; Ellie sits for what feels like twenty minutes laughing herself to tears at your attempt. Hers is not much better; it’s one crumbling ball with a big rock she found carefully balanced on top. At least you have the decency not to mock her, though. 

“Asshole!” You shout- you don’t think she hears you through her fits of laughter. “I’m sorry!” She manages to say between gasps of breath. “It’s just- it’s just really not good!” 

“Oh, fuck you!” You launch a snowball in her direction, your aim sloppy due to how hard you’re laughing. You miss her head, but the snowball hits her snowman’s ‘head’, causing it to drop off. Ellie gasps, clamping a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” you whisper in mock terror, raising your hands above your head. “I-“ 

She launches a snowball at you, and it hits you smack in the face. You gasp, almost falling backwards (luckily the two of you have moved away from the edge of the cliff, otherwise this would have a messy end). As you’re wiping the snow out of your eyes, she approaches, chortling to herself. “I think I won,” she declares when you stand, dusting off your clothes. 

“Debatable,” you respond, crossing your arms. She’s grinning, her nose and ears red from the cold- you suspect you must be in a somewhat similar state. 

She raises an eyebrow at your sorry attempt at a snowman. “No, I definitely won.” “Sure.” You laugh, mock-haughty. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, I will.” Her grin widens (if that’s even possible) and she tugs you closer by your scarf, her hand coming up to cup your face. You hardly feel the freezing cold of her wet glove as she kisses you again, and again, and again. 

It’s almost noon when you two go back to Jackson. Your clothes are soaked through from all the snowball fights, your face red from all the kissing. You fall asleep again on the way back, your chin comfortable on Ellie’s shoulder, your heartbeat against her back. She talks, although she knows you’re dozing; tells you about her time alone with Joel, about her first few months in Jackson after the Firefly hospital. She tells you quietly about her immunity, which you already knew about; she even told you about her life before Joel, before she left FEDRA. You listen to it all, eyes closed, drifting between the horse you’re riding on and the girl you’re clinging on to and a dream world. 

When you get home, the two of you shower and change back into warm, dry clothes. Ellie suggests going out again, but you are quick to refuse, already wrapped in blankets in bed. She laughs, then joins you, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her forehead to yours. “Love you,” you mumble. She gently traces the lines of your face with her finger, as if trying to memorise them (even though she knows she could never forget you). “Love you too,” comes her answer after a moment. She tugs you closer, planting a kiss on your forehead. “And for the record, I won the snowman competition.” You snort, your eyes shooting open again. “As if,” you quip. “Mine had a head. That’s one more than yours.” She nudges your cheek with her nose. “Therefore, I win.” 

“Fuck you.” You laugh and kiss her nose. “Fine, you win.” 

You hear a whispered yessss as you shut your eyes again, a wave of sleep washing over you. You’re yawning, almost asleep; you feel her snuggle closer to you, press another kiss to your forehead. Whisper another gentle I love you, potentially propose a rematch- the memories are getting foggy at this point. All you know as you drift off is that she is holding you, and she loves you, and by God do you love her too. 

[ossiethegreat]

that fucking bird that I hate

[apamates]

Fool's Fate | Yellowjackets

On sending off your beloved best friend.