#two things i will now overshare about in the tags:

[hurglewurm]

me: we are Not going to worsen our life while in a minor depressive episode

the brain: :/

[blimbo-buddy]

”Damn I’ve been feeling kind of shitty about what I went through when I was 15-16. I wonder if there’s a way to get all these feelings out besides therapy”

SpottedLeaf and Anya:

[byuntrash101]

big bad wolf

f!reader x bangchan ft. stray kids smut | mdni 2.6k maybe you bit off more than you could chew when you hyped up your game to the campus’ infamous big dick owner nsfw tags under the cut

#5: huge dick + size kink (twt p☆rnlink) college!au, toxic ex bf!minho, frat boy!bangchan, alcohol consumption, one night stand, explicit consent asked and given, chan is really a tease, gentle dom!chan, daddy kink (i mean we're talking about chan here) , size kink (reader is smaller than chan), huge monster cock!bangchan, size training, protected sex (good job), oral (f), multiple orgasms, some humor at the end ♡

a/n : i was like this 🥴🥴🥴 writing this because ughhh im in love with this bangchan! wanna see the other entries for the event? check out the link <3

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

“I mean being single is great and all” you said while downing the rest of the ungodly cocktail your best friend mixed for you earlier at the party. Before she left with Jisung. “But like I miss the toxic sex, ya know?” Christopher nodded his head while he took the empty cup from your hand to set it at the table beside the both of you on the couch.

The party was over so to speak. Everyone had left or was just passed out on random surfaces all over the frat. ΝΣΒ (nu sigma beta) was the frat that organized the best parties on campus. Well the second best parties but ΩΔΦ (omega delta phi) had Minho going to their parties and well you were finally over him that wasn't to run into him at a random party to drink and hook up with him again. You were determined to break free of the destructive cycle. That’s how you came to attend the parties here and met Christopher and his frat bros Changbin and Jisung. These three were quite the trio. Well not right now because Jisung was probably fucking your best friend somewhere and Changbin was passed out over the keg. Only Christopher remained somewhat (if not entirely) sober. He didn’t like alcohol that much, he claimed.

“Yeah I get you dude. Toxic sex is the best…” Christopher sighed. “But why though?”

“I don’t know man!” you said with a pout. “Also my ex was like… packing” the alcohol in your system was making it harder to perceive the fine line between sharing past experiences and simply oversharing. But Christopher wasn’t phased by it at all. On the contrary he was… intrigued.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Bro, he was real big. Like real big.” you said, closing your eyes trying to recall the extraordinary appendix Minho was blessed with. “The biggest I’ve ever seen really. I just miss that…” you said, finally opening your eyes again, purposefully avoiding thinking about your ex’s devil dick for too long before you drunkenly run to the other side of campus and to him again. When you open your eyes you see Christopher looking at you with an indecipherable expression.

“Well yeah. I miss someone that’s used to dealing with guys that are on the bigger end of the spectrum” Christopher was speaking very carefully, he was very clearly trying to hint at something but at the same time he didn’t want to come off as pressing or bragging.

You raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” you asked as neutral as you could be, but still picking up on Christopher’s hint.

“Well you know. Girls always say it’s what they want. But like when I pull it out they either just run away or I mean they pull through but I can tell they’re not enjoying it. So I usually cut things short.” 

It’s true you heard one or two rumors about Christopher also being on the bigger end but you never paid attention to them. Now, they were suddenly running back to you.

“I just wanna be with a girl that's kinky and that you know… just enjoys herself with me”

Suddenly you were looking at him differently. You looked at his big biceps resting crossed over his chest and the sleeveless loose fitted white top. He was wearing a cap that covered his soft brown curls but they were still peaking at the back of his head and around his reddened ears. 

All of a sudden you were painfully conscious of Chris’ sheer size. Even though he was simply sitting next to you his large sturdy shoulders occupied the space on the couch. You found your eyes wandering to his lower half where his muscular thighs generously filled the black basketball shorts. And eventually your gaze wandered to his groin where you did notice a particularly remarkable bulge.

“You know, bro?” Chris took off the cap briefly, combing his hair with one large hand before flipping it backwards and patting it back on. He looked a little bit frustrated.

“Yeah I get it.”

Silence settled.

“Looks like we could like… help each other… maybe” you started carefully. That was uncharted territories, you didn’t know how Chris was going to react but you were a little intoxicated and that made you forget about the consequences or more like postpone thinking about them. You’ll do that tomorrow.

A cocky smirk spread on Chris’ face. An expression you had yet to witness. Usually he was all about wholesome smiles and cute laughs. But this one, this expression stirred excitement and thrill within you.

“Wanna see the big bad wolf?” Chan said right before sending you a cheeky wink that left you speechless. Before he started laughing out loud and lightly pushed you on the arm. “Just messing with you” Chris said, returning to the sunny smile.

“Why are you all cocky for anyway?” you outbid. “I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t seen” you said, shrugging, eyes a little defiant. And Chris’ smirked returned to his handsome face just as quick. He felt a tingle in his lower half. He enjoyed that attitude you had right now. Wouldn’t it be fun to make you swallow those words? Amongst other things…

“Think you can handle it, babygirl?” Chan said, extending his massive arm behind your head on the couch and leaning on to you, making you feel even smaller. You took a whiff of his cologne, the alluring aromas or vanilla, cedar and citrus casting a spell on you.

“Yeah of course I can” you said, steady voice oozing all the confidence in the world. Making Chris chuckle again. 

***

Well maybe you couldn’t…

That is what you thought when Christopher dragged you to his room as the early rays of the dawning sun were licking the blinds. 

“Having second thoughts, babygirl?” Christopher said, smiling down at you while you looked up at him and sat on his bed. The loose fitting top was all he had left on him. Even the cap was now littering the ground, letting the soft brown curls loose. and you silently thanked the heavens for this. Maybe if he would have been completely nude you would have died right there.

He was absolutely breathtaking: large shoulders, thick arms and veiny forearms going down to his big hand holding the absolute monster that usually peacefully rested between his sturdy thighs. But right now it was awakened, and awaiting.

The thing was not only incredibly massive but also unbelievably long. Thick veins ornamented the length of it from the base to the red and dripping tip.

“So am I bigger than your ex?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Um, yeah a little bit I think” 

Lie. Big fat lie.

Christopher knew that. He knew that very well but he appreciated that you kept up with that act. He found that amusing.

“Perfect! Let’s get started then” 

“What?” you said as he wrapped his warm hands around both your wrists, gently pushing you down on the mattress until you laid there with only your feet hanging off the bed. He put your wrists at each side of your face, laying his weight over you. He was heavy, but it was comforting, reassuring. You felt small but also safe under him. The heat from his body ignited a fire within you.

“Don’t worry babygirl” Chris whispered leaning into your ear. You felt his hot breath fanning your burning cheek. “Daddy will get you nice and ready for him.” You felt yourself flutter at the name. You were definitely responding to it.

Christopher licked big swipe on your ear making your breath itch in your throat and you bit your lip to repress a moan. Fortunately you didn’t have to think about it too much because Chris kissed you instantly, one of his hands leaving your wrist to wrap around your throat, his thumb pulling on your chin to open your mouth. You didn’t fight back, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tasted sweet, like energy drinks and tropical fruit juice. Now you knew for sure he was completely sober. But Chris, on the other hand, wasn't so sure anymore, because he sure felt drunk right now. Drunk in you, in this kiss. He threw himself into you, moaning in your mouth as you arched your back and he rolled his hips into you, pressing his hard cock onto your hip.

Before you could think too much about it Chris stripped you of your clothes, one article after the other until you found yourself completely exposed to him. Chris got up and took a step back to admire your body under the rays of the sun piercing through the blinds. You were gorgeous, stunning and he couldn’t wait to finally be inside you.

He then pulled on your hips to bring you on the edge of the bed where he kneeled on the ground and gently parted your legs. 

“Fuckk” he cursed under his breath when he saw your cute little pussy already glistening with need and lightly twitching. He only wanted one thing: to taste you. So he did.

He first laid a gentle kiss on your clit which made you jolt up and he smirked against you in satisfaction.

“Awww baby. Are you always this sensitive or is it daddy doing that to you?” He licked a large stripe from your entrance to your clit, staying there for a second giving more attention to the sensitive bud. 

“F-fuckkk. No it’s y-you” you breathed in, arching your back and fisting the sheets beneath you. “Daddy is doing this to m-me”

Christopher felt his heavy length jump just as the mention of the word in your mouth, it sounded so fucking good, so fucking sexy. It made him want to please you, be good for you.

He licked and swirled his tongue on your swollen bud earning more moans and pants from you. Until your cunt was throbbing against his lips and your heart was beating in your ears.

“Im… Fuck… gonna c-cum” you said lifting your face to see Christopher looking up at you from between your thighs. 

“Go ahead baby. Cum for daddy”

You came undone at the end of his tongue, your walls fluttering around nothing, thick slick gushing out of you and covering Chris’ face. 

“God fuck.. don’t- s-stop” you begged, tensing up your legs and your orgasm ripped through you. Chris didn't stop there, instead he gradually slowed down to help you down your high at your own rhythm.

“Fuckkk... Please daddy I need you inside me” you said looking at him. And he got back on his feet again. With disconcerting ease he grabbed you at the hips and flipped you on your stomach and lifted you so you were on all fours. 

He reached for his night stand where he took out of one of the drawers a condom and tore the wrapper hastily. 

“Was hoping you’d say that babygirl”

As soon as the condom was on he brought his tip to your soaked and fluttering little hole. You were feeling desperately empty and you wanted nothing more than to be stuffed full of Chris’ big fat cock. You wiggled your hips to urge him to fill you up.

“Are you ready baby?” he asked, making sure one last time you were still on board. 

“Yess daddy.. Yes please. Don't make me beg” You said, despair dripping from your lips. And Christopher resisted the urge to do just that. Maybe another time.

He started to push his huge cock inside you and you braced yourself feeling your walls expand beyond belief to accommodate the thick and hard length. Very slowly Chris continued to progress inside you. You gritted your teeth, fisting the sheet even harder and exhaling a faint complaint.

“It’s okay baby. You can do it. Big breaths, ok?” Chris encouraged you before continuing.

Thanks to Chris’ prepping,  the pain was bearable. Now you didn't even have a single shadow of a doubt left. Chris was indeed bigger than Minho. 

Soon enough he managed to push the whole monstrous thing inside you.

“There you go baby” Chris said gently stroking your back. “That’s my good girl. Say when daddy can move okay, darling?” he laid a soft kiss to the crown of your back, his voice appeared to be somewhat strained. Your tightness was also hard to handle on his part.

“Ok” you huffed quietly.

You took a couple of seconds to get used to him but eventually the pain disappeared. 

“You… can move”

Slowly Chris started to pull out only to push right back in when his tip was just barely hinging in. 

“Oh- fuckfuckfuck” you panted. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good for daddy” Chris said, pulling out once again.

He repeated the process until he felt you relax around him and the sharp breaths and sighs turned into moans and whines. 

“Fuckk so… so fucking big” you said arching your back while Chirs’ big hands wrapped around your waist to pull you back on his cock everytime he was pushing in. 

“Fuck your little cunt is so wet and tight for me baby”

“Hmmm daddy” you whined. “Please faster”

“Fuck so fucking naughty” he said as started to fuck you faster, deeper, dragging your precious nectar on his cock and making you moan louder.

“Fuck I won’t last long baby”

“Pleasepleaseplease daddy I'm almost there” 

Chris circled your hip and brought two fingers to rub circles on your clit, you threw your head back, completely letting go of the last bit of sanity you had left. Chris felt you throbbing around his cock.

“Fuck daddy…I'm cumminggg” 

“That's it cum for daddy” Chris said, his voice was strained as he felt you flutter around him, urging him to let got. Spurts of hot cum rushed into the condom as he hips became erratic, as continuously fucked into you until you were both satifed and out of breath. 

You collapsed and he rolled next to you, taking the condom off and tying it before rushing to the bathroom and returning with a warm towel and handing it to you. 

“Fuck that was… amazing” he told you with a bright smile that you knew. 

“So you like being called daddy? Now I understand why you’re into kinky girls.” you said, raising an eyebrow, teasingly.

“Oh– Hm.. well. Yeah… sorry it was like in the heat of the moment” he scratched the side of his face before ruffling his brown curls.

“Oh don't worry about it. I liked it” 

“We should like.. do that again sometimes… I mean if you're down”

It’s funny how he started all cocky and confident and now he was the one stumbling on his words and being flustered. You found that cute.

“Yeah we should”

“CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???” You heard Jisung’s loud voice coming from the hall. “WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR PRACTICE” He fumbled with the door handle. “WHY IS YOUR DOOR CLOSED?”

“Get the fuck out Jisung. I’m busy” Chris said and you giggled.

“Bro, I think he’s fucking someone in there” Jisung said, this time to someone else.

“OI, MATE WHO’S IN THERE WITH YOU?? IS IT Y/N??” Felix’ unmistakably low voice asked.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT“ Chris shouted.

“Fuck… I think you made him mad.” Felix said.

“Bro how the fuck is it me? You the one who insisted” You heard the two voices getting further.

“Don’t pay attention to them” Chris said and you both laughed and went back to bed, to get a well deserved couple of hours of sleep before a day full of college classes.

3k celebration | skz masterlist | navigation

a/n: thanks for reading babe if you enjoyed reblig or leave a comment because delulu is the solulu <3

[fuckyeah-bears]

nah there is a team. it's made up of me, myself, and i

someone asked me if i need a new bearotonin admin. honey you're cute but this is a one man show

[azuremist]

Cohost sucks, too (but not for the reasons that one user said)

So, you may recall a person on tumblr saying that Cohost sucks, which accused a transfem on the cohost team of predatory behavior. That was transmisogynistic bullshit, and was blatantly untrue.

But cohost does suck. Just for reasons unrelated to that.

Listing everything loosely in an order of “weird and sort of annoying” to “holy fuck”:

Tag capitalization is determined by how the first person who used the tag capitalized it

You have to personally email support and wait for them to get back to you if you want to delete your account

They call themselves a “not for profit” or “non profit”, despite being registered as a for profit LLC

There is only one moderator for this site of 30k+ users, which means reports aren’t responded to for weeks at a time

Staff and the userbase have a very odd parasocial relationship. The staff chronically overshares, call users their ‘friends’, and have gotten mad at users for reporting too many things on weekends, after hours, or holidays (with the subtext being that you should not expect them to do anything after hours). They even publicly post about how they are worried about paying rent because of the site’s financial situation, which is frankly disgusting. Especially when you see people in the comments barely able to scrape up the $5 USD to give them for the subscription service.

A member of staff publicly bragged about how Cloudflare forgot to bill them for hosting, which is not only wildly unprofessional, but could likely get them sued. (And Cloudflare could, at any time, ask them for the money they owe, for the record.)

Staff say that they want to be transparent with financials, but are incredibly inconsistent about financial updates

The platform is losing $10k-40k USD each month

Meanwhile, staff currently pays themselves $94k USD a year, per person. Sure, that’s not as much as the average person with their job title… but Cohost is losing tens of thousands of dollars each and every month, so that doesn’t really apply.

On top of the previous two points, staff doesn’t accept volunteers, and they’ve consistently implemented features that make no difference to the financials of the company

TL;DR:

The cohost staff are tech people who wanted to do a startup, got a loan from a rich friend, and is doing nothing to make the site sustainable. Meanwhile, they’re paying themselves almost $100k USD a year while still guilt-tripping their dirt-poor, largely queer userbase.

It sucks, because I really believe Cohost could succeed. You know what, no — I know Cohost could succeed. Between the Elon Musk-ification of Twitter (who has deemed Tweeting “I hate trans people” fine, but automatically blocks people from Tweeting “I hate cis people” for hate speech), and the owner of tumblr going mask-off transphobic Zionist… Right now, maybe more than ever, there is a serious niche of ‘social media for queer fandom nerds’, just waiting to be filled! And on the surface, Cohost is perfect!

And I like everything about Cohost… except for how it’s being managed. I want to see it succeed, because it could be amazing, if the people behind it just made better decisions. But, ultimately, I do not trust the people running Cohost to help it realize its potential.

Alas, it seems this isn’t the tumblr alternative we are looking for.

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 3

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Sorry for the wait! The day I set aside to get loads done on this I ended up having to visit a family member in hospital, he’s much much better now. Anyway oversharing. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I loved writing it. Let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list 💕

Part 1

Part 2

——————————————————————

You woke up on Saturday morning to a missed text from Art.

7:58am - text from Art

Sorry if I woke you when I left. Gone to play hard court today hope you slept alright on that couch.

The sudden realisation that you were not in fact in your bed hit you almost as hard as the loose spring in your back. You groaned, reaching for some leftover pizza. None left. You groaned again.

9:26am - text to Art

Did you eat all your pizza?

To your surprise the boy replied immediately, showcasing his ability to read your mind.

9:27am - text from Art

Afraid so :) Look in the fridge if you’re so hungry

The fridge, despite the tightness of your apartment, had never looked so far away. You’d rather wait the nine hours for Art to return and pass food to you through a funnel. He could create some sort of feeding tube, perhaps he could fashion it out of one of the dozen tennis ball containers Patrick left lying around. You hadn’t seen the floor in years.

It took you almost thirty minutes to peel your lifeless body off the sofa and trudge the eight metres to the fridge. Before all of your fingers had grasped the cold metal you caught it. The smell.

The month you and Patrick were flat hunting had been a difficult one, full of stress and disappointments. A week before you found the flat you now called home, Art had found crying outside your favourite pancake place. You didn’t know if Patrick had texted him, giving him a heads up of your less than stellar mood and where to find you, or if he had simply ran into you by accident but one minute he was there.

The two of you had shared your favourite, strawberry and kiwi pancakes with whipped cream, despite having never spent time alone together previously and it hadn’t been awkward. Any awkwardness had come from your inability to keep your emotions to yourself and not a mess for all to see. Art hadn’t minded in fact, unbeknownst to you, he’d greatly enjoyed your company and had had a shitty day himself before your talk.

10:02am - text to Art

Did I ever mention I love you living here??

Sitting proudly in the fridge, in between Patrick’s abandoned pasta and your pathetic amount of cheese, was a plate of strawberry and kiwi pancakes. You looked at the pile of washing up and noticed essence of strawberry still dripping from the chopping board next to a whisk and bowl.

‘God damn…’ you actually moaned aloud at the first bite. Not only were they delicious but they’d been made especially for you for no reason. No one had ever made you breakfast before, unless you counted the time Patrick threw a box of muffins at your head to wake you up for school. It often didn’t take a great amount of effort to impress you, something maybe a therapist needed to hear about, but you felt justified being impressed with Art for this. They were truly wonderful.

10:20am - text from Art

Come thank me in person if you want, Liam is taking another break

You couldn’t help but smile at his little dig at Liam, whether intentional or not it told you everything you needed to know: Art was the better player. Art was always the better player, he usually wiped the floor with anyone who wasn’t Patrick.

It was only a twenty minute walk to Stanford and although you were ashamed to admit it … you had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning. You decided to pack your laptop, so you could kid yourself that this was a productive thing and not just an excuse to watch Art sweat. The damn thing wouldn’t even get opened and you knew it.

It was a hot day, even for Summer it was unforgiving. You pulled at your tank top, attempting to negate any sweat stains by leaving a gap between your wet skin and the thin fabric. No such luck, the car window reflection of yourself showed you the harsh reality. How did Art do it? How did he look sexy whilst sweating? You felt like a drowned dog, heaving and panting in the back of a muggy car trying to see past the drops of sweat in your lashes.

You reached Stanford earlier than you expected and to your great satisfaction, saw no Art present. That gave you ample time to tidy yourself up in the toilets before meeting him. The college had crisp air con, much better than the pathetic excuse for a fan you and Patrick would crowd round on hot days.

Art didn’t text you directions because he didn’t need to. He knew you’d visited Patrick enough times to know your way around all the tennis courts, hard or otherwise. It didn’t take you long to find the right one.

‘Fuck!’

You scanned the indoor courts for the source of the outburst. Art, third court from the left and he was not happy. For a moment you teetered on your feet, unsure if it was better to wait a bit before interfering with their clearly tense match. Before you could make a decision however-

‘Y/N!’

Liam spotted you, putting his racket down immediately to wave you over. He’d once gotten drunk and told Patrick how much he liked you but that it had been so long ago that you’d almost forgotten and his new girlfriend was a tennis star. On the ‘up and up’ as Patrick’s dad would say.

Although Liam’s hug was intense, sweaty and pretty uncomfortable you were too focused on Art to cringe. He was rubbing his face with his hands, looking more pained than you’d ever seen him. You didn’t know why. He’d been playing well before you arrived.

Noticing the object of your frown, Liam suddenly grinned even wider. ‘He just lost the third set.’ Art took a large swig of water, not noticing the way you stared in awe at the angle of his jaw and the wet curls on his forehead. He was too focused on the racket he was clutching fiercely enough to force the veins of his forearm to pull your attention.

‘I know it’s not over yet,’ Liam panted slightly, clearly Art had still run him ragged. ‘But this never happens - never.’ In the years they’d played together, Liam had never beaten Art. Not in singles or doubles. Not on hard court. Not on clay or grass. Never. You were not convinced, however, that poor Liam had never won a set before so you voiced your opinion without thinking.

‘Art, you can still win. It’s fine!’

Art shot you a glare. It didn’t last long but it burned you a little, the intensity of it. He wanted so badly for you to be right, for it to not matter to him. ‘It’s just a game’ well it wasn’t to Art. It was his entire future and if he lost - if he lost ever - it was him throwing that future away.

‘You’ll win the fourth.’ You smiled, reassuringly. That lifted Art a little and bruised his partner.

‘I thought we were stopping for a bit since Y/N’s here.’ Art watched your face for a reaction, daring you to decide for the three of them. Without removing your eyes from Art you smiled. ‘No, no. I’ll watch.’

You watched them play for another hour and a half. Art just won the fourth set, by the narrowest of margins but that gave him the confidence boost he badly needed to destroy Liam in the fifth. Th-wack! Smash. Th-wack! Slice. Th-wack! Topspin. You were honestly confused why Liam bothered serving. If it had been you - well - let’s just say the floor would have made a more than sufficient bed. It was certainly making a sufficient seat for you to watch Liam get massacred. God was Art good.

‘You win…’ Liam was dripping, his white shirt almost see-through. ‘I need a sec…’ So did you. It was practically a workout just watching them. You clapped as Art walked over to you, looking very satisfied with his win. ‘You happy now?’

‘Very.’

As Liam rung out his shirt, Art gestured to the court with his racket. ‘You and me. One game.’ His eyes were full of amusement.

‘Ha.’

You’d die.

‘One set?’ He smirked, desperate for you to humour him. Not today. ‘Absolutely not.’ You laughed, standing up.

‘Actually, I’d love lunch right now,’ Liam’s suggestion was a necessity. ‘After a shower.’ And so was his afterthought. They both needed one desperately. Art’s hair didn’t even look blonde anymore.

‘Yeah you two go, I’ll wait then we can get food. I’m not super hungry but I can always eat.’

Liam was already rushing to the showers, practically leaving a pool of loser evidence behind him but Art heard. He looked like he was waiting for something from you and for a moment, in your haze, you wondered what. Oh!

‘The pancakes,’

‘Hm.’

‘De-licious.’

‘Good.’

You could tell he was happier with your compliment than he was letting on. The truth was Art craved praise, mostly for tennis but for anything he accomplished. It didn’t matter if he’d made a three tier cake, organised a trip or won every set in a match he wanted to know he’d done good.

‘Seriously, how did you even find the recipe?’ The two of you walked together out of the hall. ‘I’ve been asking the staff for years, pretty sure they hate me now actually.’

‘I have my ways.’ He grinned. ‘Now, I’m gonna go shower-‘

‘Good, you stink.’

‘Fuck off.’

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn

[ashen-vulture]

A Vulture In Therapy

It’s Never Been About Death (But It Is All I Think About)

-

The hospital was like a labyrinth. I remember having an anxiety attack the first time I went to inpatient therapy here, and the nurses who were talking to me were absolutely useless. They sent me to the wrong floor and were really pushy and suffocating even as I was starting to twitch and cry and hyperventilate.

Now I wore the same sticker tag every day and knew the route. Why did it require two different elevators to get to this floor? I have no clue. I didn’t build it.

My therapist and psychiatrist both wanted me to attend inpatient therapy, saying that it might help me develop some healthier coping strategies, and determine if further treatment would be worth pursuing. I think they were worried about how my suggestion for treatment overlapped with my obsession with death. People get concerned when I talk about how often I think about death. I have to reassure people over and over again that I don’t want to die. It’s a macabre and spiritual fascination. The historical, chemical, spiritual, emotional, and biological process fascinate me. Everything dies. It's one thing all of us animals of planet earth truly have in common.

And death feeds life. That has been the case almost since life has been.

Today was my next to last day. It helped to see other people who were struggling like me, especially when we helped each other with wisdom for our own lives. I made some friends I would never see again. I shared some good moments and some uncomfortable ones. Today was going to show them this other side of me, though.

Today we also ended up, intentionally or otherwise, with death as the main topic of discussion.

When you live in the south it’s hard to find anything that is secular. Even things explicitly said to be secular make sure that there is all the space for religious talk that people could possibly want. I mean I suppose it’s fair, we were talking about death and many people process death through religion.

Still, people kept trying to include me specifically in their religious talk, so when it was my time to speak…

Well…

“I’m not a religious person.”

Several people’s faces got awkward as they realized they had been trying to rope what they assumed was the only atheist in the zipcode into their church talk.

“I am spiritual though. I think about death a lot. I never learned how to mourn correctly. My family tried to hide death from me. I was never allowed to feel or express negative emotions, so even when someone died, I didn’t know how to cry anymore. I would just go numb. Besides, other people around me needed me, and I have a chronic need to be there for other people when they need me. I am a person who can reschedule grief. A month or two months or three would pass and then suddenly that grief would come knocking. My grandmother passed last year. It took me two months of time and three solid days alone to break down and cry.”

I tastefully edited out that the bourbon helped too, because two of the people there were recovering alcoholics.

“To me, the vulture is a sacred animal.”

I held up the painting I’d worked on during art therapy. It was of a swarm of black birds ascending into the sky. I know it looked grim and ominous to other people, but as I talked I could see them begin to understand.

“It doesn’t waste. I love scavengers in general. Creatures that take up the unwanted or lost. I see vultures and I see the grim cleaners of the world. Many people don’t see the value of the scavenger, but we’re far better off with them in it than without. Did you know that in areas with low vulture populations, rabies is more common? This is because without flocks of vultures to break down carcasses quickly, they are instead visited by feral dogs, coyotes, foxes, racoons, and many other mostly mammalian opportunist. This makes carcasses a disease vector. Parasites and disease can spread from conflicts over a carcass,” I realized I was beginning to overshare one of my hyperfixations. Time to wrap it up. “They rarely kill. They consume the rotten and undesirable. They prevent disease. I love seeing them because to me they are not just symbols of death, they’re life. There is no real death here, only the cycle of life reusing its building blocks to make more life. I don’t want to be embalmed when I die. I want to be put in the earth to rot, that way the molecules that make up my body can be where they belong. Everywhere. Death as a continuation of life. Everything that consumes me, I will be.”

I was used to creeping people out. The room was quiet for a bit, digesting the condensed documentary I had just unloaded on them, punctuated with my funeral plans.

What do you see when you look at me? I don’t look like a monster, not until you interact with me. My way of talking has never been quite human. I am physically the human animal. I don’t like that many humans don’t see themselves as animals. We are. We’ve tricked ourselves into thinking we aren’t, that we are something separated from the animals and plants and dirt, and that’s not healthy.

So I refuse to act. It unsettles people.

I am an animal of the dirt and sky and rain.

I just happen to wear human skin.

The conversation moved on.

The day’s session came to a close.

There was a new respect for vultures in that room. I walked away feeling lighter in mind and body. I stood on the 3rd floor of the parking garage and looked out over the streets.

I opened discord on my phone and scrolled back through a conversation with a friend.

-

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:50 AM

Maybe wanting to be a therian is a symptom of being a therian. It didn't occur to me until last night that wanting to have the dreams was a sign.

ashedink 06/06/2024 9:51 AM

That’s a good point.

Kinda like how some people figure out they’re trans, not because of a presence of gender dysphoria, but by the absence of gender euphoria.

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:55 AM

Wanting it is that first symptom.

Yeah, literally how I awakened.

-

We’ve been friends for so long, and we’re still finding new bridges to cross together.

Maybe I will follow you over this one too, if my therapist is satisfied with how inpatient therapy went.

Is it arrogant to try to become that which I hold in such high spiritual regard? Maybe that’s just human greed want it. There is no dysphoria here, I simply exist as I am regardless of my vessel.

But maybe I should try it. Maybe euphoria is waiting for me in an unexpected shape.

I mean, I’ll be an animal either way.

Maybe I'll be a happy animal.

[rosietrace]

[ The Inheritance Games ] | “I wouldn't marry me, either.”

Prologue

The Inheritance Games series belongs to Jennifer Lynn Barnes.

SYNOPSIS — What if things had been different, when Avery inherited the old man's fortune? What if Alisa did some puzzle solving of her own, and what if Nash started to feel something for Alisa he thought he'd never feel in a long time?

MAIN TAGS — Canon divergence, Exes to lovers, slowburn, angst with happy ending, suggestive-ish, oc insert, WHAT-IF, mention of character death (Emily Laughlin mention)

| [ The Following is a fanfiction that drifts away from the canon source material. If you aren't particularly interested in anything relating to Alisa Ortega, Nash Hawthorne, or anything about The Inheritance Games in general, this fic probably isn't for you. ] |

Never lose your heart to a Hawthorne. Something Alisa repeated to herself like a mantra over the course of several years, leading to the present day.

The way Hawthornes loved was all-consuming, all-encompassing. Destructive in ways it shouldn't be for both parties involved.

Alisa could remember a time when things were simpler. When she was a little girl spending her days in Hawthorne House while her father was at work, playing with Tobias Hawthorne’s four grandsons— his eldest, in particular.

But those days were long gone, Alisa had reminded herself, now seated with her head hung low, dressed in all black; Tobias Hawthorne — over-ambitious, machiavellian philanthropist that he was — had finally been put to rest at the age of 78.

For most of the ceremony, it was eerily quiet. And while Alisa thought herself as strong as steel, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease throughout her body at the deathly silence of the funeral— even if such silence was understandable.

She, her father, and the rest of what was left of Tobias Hawthorne's family sat during the ceremony of his funeral, where he'd be buried beside his late wife, Alice O’Day Hawthorne.

He was a complicated man, Alisa thought. Too many gears in his head… so many ideas. Perhaps too many.

“Alisa,” she'd heard her father call out to her, garnering her attention in record time. With their heads hung low, the father and daughter duo met each other's gazes.

Her father — Mr. Ortega, most people called him — was a lawyer, a man she admired a great deal to the point where she'd slaved away studying to join him at his law firm: McNamara, Ortega, and Jones.

The very law firm that paid for the funeral services of their main, and only client.

“Yes?” Alisa's voice was barely a whisper. Her eyes beckoned at her father, wondering what he had to say to her.

His gaze was paternal, fatherly in ways Alisa's seen through the majority of her childhood even when he was busy with work to properly care for her.

“Are you alright?” Her father asked gently, “I know that you must be thinking of the changes that'll be made. What'll become of the law firm, the Hawthorne family…”

Alisa exhaled, holding her father's gaze a moment longer with her hand over his. “I'm fine, Papa. I'm fine.”

But her father was right; She had been thinking of the changes to come of what she considered normal up until today. Of the law firm, of who would be inheriting the Hawthorne foundation, what'll become of the Hawthorne family now that their patriarch had now passed— and that wasn't even bringing the forty-six point two billion dollars of the old man’s net worth.

It wasn't as silent as it was at the start of the funeral. Alisa took a good look at her surroundings, at the people around her.

Her father's colleagues, McNamara and Jones respectively, did what most of everyone was doing: Keeping their heads low to pay their respects to the old man.

Skye Hawthorne was the only one making any actual sound, sobbing to an almost comically loud extent. No one tried to get her to quiet down, and no one did.

Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris and her husband, Constantine Calligaris, sat beside Skye. Where Skye was flowy fabrics and oversharing, Zara was pencil-skirts and pearls.

Zara’s expression was borderline unreadable, but even Alisa could notice the small glance the woman had stolen at John Oren, the old man's personal bodyguard and head of his security team.

The Hawthorne grandsons were… a different story.

They've known the old man the longest, Alisa’d pointed out the obvious in the confines of her mind.

Grayson had his elbows on his knees, his hands obscuring most of his face; Jameson had a small frown, looking up at the ceiling; Strangely, it was Xander that had the more unreadable expression of the three.

Three. Alisa frowned. Not four.

She turned to her father. “Papa.”

“May I be excused?”

“Hm?.. whatever for?” Asked her father, a slightly raised eyebrow creasing his features.

Alisa pursed her lips, squeezing her father's hand assuringly. “It'll only be for a moment.”

Once her father conceded, Alisa had politely excused herself from the solemnity of the funeral ceremony.

⊱───────────────⊰

Where is he? The purse of Alisa's lips tightened. There were four Hawthorne grandsons, and yet one of them had already decided upon himself to leave early.

It didn't take Alisa a long time to spot the beat-up motorcycle amongst the sea of cars parked near the property; and for a second, she remembered a small memory where she pestered its owner about getting it dismantled for parts.

It was no use, Alisa shook her head dismissively, making her way to the eldest Hawthorne grandson right as he mounted that piece of junk.

“Nash.”

Nash Hawthorne stole a glance at her and raised a brow. “Lee-Lee?”

“What’re you doin’?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I'm leavin’.”

“In the middle of the funeral? Right before the burial?” Alisa knew the rocky relationship between Nash and his grandfather, but even she was appalled by this behavior.

“‘Hate to break it to ya, Lee-Lee, but Skye's waterworks ain't exactly pleasant to listen to.” Nash remarked, switching off the engine of his motorcycle and sitting to the side to face Alisa directly.

“I don't think that's a good enough excuse to leave in the middle of your grandfather's funeral.”

Alisa crossed her arms. Nash looked at her with those piercing eyes, looking at her up and down.

Lifting a hand, Nash grazed Alisa's cheek ever so slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. And Alisa wished it didn't have the kind of effect on her the way it did.

“You know exactly why I'm leavin’ early, Lee-Lee.”

Because of your grief, because of your family, because of the old man. Alisa paused, her body tensing up at her last thought.

Because of me.

When she said nothing, Nash hummed, adjusting the worn-out cowboy hat he wore like a crown on his head.

He turned on the engine, revving up his motorcycle— all the while he maintained eye contact with Alisa Ortega; A girl who, if circumstances were different, would've been his wife.

“You take care, Lee-Lee.”

And there he went, driving out of the property without so much as a second thought. Away from all things Hawthorne. Away from Alisa.

Alisa looked down at the ground with clenched fists, a tightness in her throat as she whispered that self-made mantra over and over again.

“Never lose your heart to a Hawthorne.”

TAGLIST

None so far . . .

[graveyarrdshift]

oversharing on the internet

tagged by @thinkaboutwhatyoudid thanks Jen! <3

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

Yeah, my mom named me after one of her favorite singers. I don't like my real name tho.

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

Two days ago, lol.

THREE: Do you have kids?

I don't, thankfully.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

More than I should.

FIVE: What sports have you played/do you play?

I used to play volleyball. Would like to learn martial arts.

SIX: What's the first thing you notice about people

Their clothes, eyes, smile and boo- [*GUNSHOT*]

SEVEN: What's your eye colour?

Hazel, probably.

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm a scary movies enthusiast.

NINE: Any special talents?

I've been told that I'd be good as the vocalist of a deathcore band. I'm also good at repairing stuff, have a pretty good sense of humor and sometimes (but now very rarely) write not-so-bad poetry.

TEN: Where were you born?

Born, raised, still live in Kraków.

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

Learning about music and less popular/older artists, space related things, playing video games, reading books/poetry and watching movies.

TWELVE: Do you have any pets?

Yup, a dog.

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

165cm/5'5? I'm not sure, I haven't measured myself in months.

FOURTEEN: Favourite subject in school?

IT

FIFTEEN: Dream job

Anything arts or nature related.

no pressure tags: @poppy-inmyhair @immercuryinretrograde @astolenkiss @glassdandelion @weeping-in-the-willows @findyouinanylife @margolovescoffeeandbooks @obsessivedaydreamer @onlyyseedaylight @moony4pads @moonspiritgf @slayderman @honorarycallowaysister @speaknowtelevision

[jazzycurls]

You belong to me - part 5.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: It's a surprise 😉🤫

Warnings/Tags: 18+ minors dni! Cheating, angst, hurt & comfort, smut, stalking, and pregnancy (let me know if I missed something)

An: Sorry this took so long you guys, between work and a serious case of writer's block lol... this took way longer than expected. Love you guys, and thank you so much for the support, hope you enjoy ❤

Word Count: 7,613

The ceiling fan circles overhead, emitting a soft hum. Used to the sound by now, Eddie barely notices it as he stares at the cracks forming in his ceiling listlessly. With a heavy sigh, he turns over to check the clock, once again reading the time to be 12:50 in the morning.

You were supposed to have shown up two hours ago. Worry gnaws at him as he chews on his nails. He's called your house numerous times by now to no avail. Not wanting to seem clingy, he held back from racing over to your house after an hour had passed with no word from you.

His telephone rings and he jumps, bumping his knee against the end table. His astray falls to the floor dumping cigarette butts and ashes onto the ground. "Hello!" he yells into the phone.

"Hello to you too handsome," Steve says laughing on the other end.

"Ugh, it's just you. What do you want Harrington, I'm waiting on a call." Holding the phone in between his ear and shoulder, Eddie stoops down to pick up the fallen debris from his astray.

"I just wanted to check in with you. You know, since you've had a stick up your ass lately. I wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, feeling slightly offended at being rushed off the phone.

"I'm okay. Sorry for being an asshole lately. I've just been going through a lot and I took it out on you, sorry for that man." He dumps the ash butts in his hand into the nearby wastebasket, clapping his hands together to dust off the remaining pieces.

"It's okay, no harm no foul." The phone fell silent for a moment before Steve spoke again. "Sooo, who were you waiting to call?" Anyone who knew Steve knew that he could be nosy at times. It was in his nature to want to know everything going on around him, even if it had nothing to do with him.

"Y/n," Eddie replied easily. Unless it was something too personal, he usually didn't mind sharing. He and Steve complimented each other, whereas Steve liked to hear gossip, Eddie tended to overshare sometimes. Though they would never admit it, they often would call each other just to gossip like mother hens.

Steve let out a small hum. "She left work about two hours ago. You sure you didn't miss her call?"

"I'm sure, I've been glued to this spot waiting on her call all night!" Eddie's felt his stomach clench in fear, you should have called by now. Maybe he was jumping the gun but you didn't seem like the type to ghost him.

"Okay, okay, settle down. I'll call Robin and have her go over to her house, I think she lives close to her."

Eddie was already up, pulling on his shoes and jacket. "Fuck that, I can't wait any longer, I'm going to go check myself, thanks." He drops the phone onto his bed not bothering to put it on the receiver, racing out the door and jumping into his van.

It takes him less than 10 minutes to make it to your side of town. Gripping the tattered leather of his steering wheel, he pulls up to the curb in front of your home with a screech. Not bothering to cut the car off as he jumps out of the car, leaving it idling.

His nerves are shot, leaving a jittery feeling in its wake. The windows are dark as he pounds on the front door. After a few minutes pass, he walks around your house, peering into the windows.

He knows that if anyone saw him, they would call the cops with no hesitation. It's the one place he refuses to end up— well that and being stuck in this shit town. But at this moment that was the farthest thing from his mind.

That feeling that something was wrong kept nagging at him and he wouldn't be able to rest until he saw you in person.

After he had walked around your house a few times, he jogged back to the van, hopped into the seat, and began to head toward Family Video. Maybe you had stopped somewhere near your job and had lost track of time or maybe your car had run out of gas and you were stranded.

Countless scenarios run rampant through his mind as his foot pressed down heavily against the gas pedal. The entrance to the trailer park is a blur as he zooms toward the wooded highway. It's a straight shot from your job that would pass by his house on your way home. This road was known for its creepiness at night and he hoped that you weren't stranded on the side of the road somewhere.

Before he could reach the bend up ahead, the flickering of blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror. "Fuck me," he groaned as he reluctantly slowed down and eased to a stop on the side of the road.

Minutes tick by slowly as the officer takes his precious time before stepping out of the vehicle. Eddies lets out an aggravated huff of breath when the officer finally reaches his car.

Letting down his window he greets "something wrong officer?"

The man tips his hat upward revealing himself to be none other than the local town sheriff, Jim Hopper. "Where you going in such a hurry kid?" He places a large calloused hand on top of the roof as he leans through the window, peering around Eddie and looking towards the back of the van.

"I'm looking for someone," Eddie's response is short and clipped. It's not that he doesn't like Jim, to be honest, he liked him as much as he could like an officer of the law. His history with law enforcement was a shaky one. With him being the spitting image of his father and with his extracurricular activities, Eddie felt as if he had been doomed from the start.

With that being said, Jim was the only officer who had judged him on his merit and not his family name. Even though that merit was dead and buried after being busted a few times, he still treated him decent and he was thankful for that.

"Well driving like a bat out of hell won't get you there, it'll only have you in a hospital somewhere or God forbid in a grave. That's the problem with you kids, always rushing off somewhere, never taking time to just relax and enjoy life." Taking a cigarette out of his shirt pocket he quickly lights it and takes a deep inhale before exhaling the smoke into the night air.

"Yes sir," Eddie says in a monotone voice, tiredly rubbing at his eyes. His mind is too wired to focus on what the older man is saying, concern for your well-being is the only thing filling his brain right now.

Jim lets out a sigh at Eddie's response. He takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the cracked road. His eyes are soft as his gaze settles on Eddie. "Just drive more carefully kid. I don't wanna see another one of you out here tonight, crashed out on the road."

His eyes snap onto Jim's at his words. Ice-cold fear runs through his veins and his hands begin to shake in response. "What are you talking about? Who was out here!" his words are a rushed and jumbled mess as he waits on bated breath for the officer's response.

Jim jumps, startled by Eddie's outburst, before quickly converting back to his usual calm demeanor. "A girl crashed out here earlier," he says shaking his head sadly.

"What was her name," he demands shakily. His thoughts are static as fear takes hold of him, pumping throughout his veins leaving an ice-cold sensation in its wake. 'Please don't be Y/n,' he chants over and over to himself.

"Hmmm. I think it was a young girl last name Y/l/n. Why? Did you know—" His question is cut off abruptly as Eddie quickly puts his car in drive and takes off full speed down the desolate road. "Hey! What the hell," he jumps back from the car. The tire from the van narrowly missing his foot.

Tires screech against the asphalt as Eddie guns it down the highway leaving smoke in his wake. The sound of sirens can be heard behind him but Eddie is no longer in control of his actions. His body is on autopilot, tears streaming down his face as he heads toward the hospital. He's praying, something he hasn't done in a long time that it's not you. Hoping that Hopper had it wrong and that it was someone else. Not you, anyone but you.

He doesn't know how he makes it to the hospital in one piece but he does. Parking in front of the entrance he runs through the entrance at full speed. Unable to come to a stop, his body slams into the front desk, startling the old lady seated there.

She gasps loudly, holding her chest in shock. As her nerves begin to settle she pushes her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose with a pointed look at the young man in front of her. "Can I help you?" she asks cautiously. Sometimes strange people come into the hospital and she's usually the first person they come into contact with, so she's always careful of her interactions with people.

"Y/n L/n! Where is she? I need to see her!" His words tumble out of his mouth breathlessly.

Taking a quick look at the computer screen in front of her, she glances back at Eddie. "Are you a member of the family? I can't give out information if—,"

"Yeah! I'm her family, now where the fuck is she!" he shouts slamming his palm against the counter, attracting the attention of the people seated in the lobby.

"Sir, p-please, calm down and give me a moment so I can find her room number, okay?" Turning towards the computer, she quickly taps away on her keyboard, the glare from the screen reflecting off of her glasses. "3rd-floor, room 211 but you can't—," she trails off as Eddie takes off sprinting towards the elevators.

"Kids these days," she mutters to herself. With a shake of her head, she lets out a shaky breath before turning back to the magazine in front of her.

Unable to wait for the elevator, Eddie takes the stairs, reaching the 3rd floor in seconds. Bursting through the heavy metal door, he glances at the numbered halls as he skirts around the visitors and staff walking the halls.

Soon, he's at your door and he comes to a complete stop, unable to move any further. The chart on the door has your name on it, solidifying that you are indeed in the room.

Not giving himself time to think about it, he pushes the door open. Tears spring to his eyes as he takes in your small frame layered underneath the thin blankets. Shuffling forward he stops at your bedside and takes your hand into his. His gaze takes in the numerous dark bruises marking your swollen features.

"Y/n?" his voice is small, a sharp contrast to his usual boisterous tone. There's no response, only the steady beeps of the machines echoing loudly throughout the room. A choked cry breaks out as he hangs his head down, bending over the rail closer to you as the enormity of the situation hits him. Hot tears run down his face, dropping down onto the white hospital blankets.

He squeezes your hand, trying to find that sense of comfort that being around you normally brings. Your hand is cold to the touch, lying limp within his own. Your body doesn't react as he massages the palm of your hand tenderly.

Regret sits in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about all the time he wasted not being with you, not getting to know you better. He swallows thickly at the raw emotion flowing through him. He hasn't felt a pain like this ever since his mom died and even then he was too young to even process it, choosing to just accept that she was gone and never coming back.

He should've never gotten with Chrissy. He wishes he hadn't been a coward back then and had asked you out before you had moved away. It seems like as soon as you guys stood a chance at being together, life would come, and fuck it all up.

There's a knock at the door bringing him out of his thoughts. After a pause, the door opens and a middle-aged man enters, closing the door behind him. "Hello, I'm Dr. Raymond. Are you the patient's family?"

"Yes, I'm Eddie— her boyfriend," he states with a firm tone. His hands come up and wipe away the fresh tears steadily falling, uncaring that a stranger is seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

The doctor pauses for a moment, taking in the young man's words before continuing. Usually, they would only give information to immediate family but something tells him that the person in front of him wouldn't take that decision lightly.

Looking at his clipboard he starts rambling off medical terms, gesturing towards you briefly. Eddie stands there in confusion, not understanding a single thing he's said.

The doctor looks up in midspeech, realizing that he isn't following. "I'm sorry," he says with a small smile. "Sometimes I forget how hard it can be to understand all of this."

Eddie shakes his head in agreeance and the doctor continues. "Simply put, Y/n has suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. You've probably noticed that she hasn't responded to you being here right? The reason is that at this moment, she is unresponsive. When an injury damages specific parts of the brain, the nervous system sometimes doesn't send normal signals to the body. This can cause a person to fall into a coma." He stops, allowing Eddie to process the information he's given.

Putting on a brave face, he struggles to hold back the emotions threatening to break free. "So does this mean that she's not going to wake up?"

"We're not giving up yet. There's a possibility that she could wake up. However, there's also a chance she might not wake up."

His heart soars at the idea that there's a chance you could wake up. Refusing to think anything differently. "What can I do to help," he asks desperately. If he could do anything to help you, he would definitely do it, no questions asked.

The doctor smiles warmly at the sincere look plastered across Eddie's face. "The most important thing you can do is just be here for her. You can talk or read to her, believe it or not, it helps."

With a surge of hope, Eddie nods in confirmation, looking back over at you with a soft look. "I can do that. If there's one thing I'm good at— it's talking," he replied with a humorless laugh.

The doctor patted him on the shoulder before turning around to head out of the room. He stopped before the door, turning on his heel suddenly. "Gosh, I almost forgot," he says with a smack to his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Eddie's nerves instantly shoot back up at the doctor's words.

"That's the point," he says as Eddie stares at him in confusion. "The baby I mean— the baby's just fine. Although it's still early, it appears your little one will be just fine." His pager goes off and he darts out the door not waiting for a response.

"Baby?" He looks over at you in bewilderment. He stumbles, catching his fall by holding onto the wall for support. His air intake is limited as his breathing comes in deep harsh gasps. His vision begins to swim, and not wanting to pass out near you, he takes a step away from you towards a chair, before crashing onto the ground.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Eddie woke up with a low groan, blinking up at the harsh lights above him. He yells your name, sitting up with a jolt as his memories come rushing back all at once. Looking around the room he notices that he's in an entirely different room than before.

He tries to get up when he realizes that he's cuffed to the bed. "What the fuck? Hey! Let me out here! Heyyyy!!!" Panic quickly rises in him with his sudden predicament. He doesn't know what he did to get handcuffed to the bed and he doesn't care. The only thing that matters is you and the fact that these stupid cuffs are keeping him from you right now.

He yells again as he yanks on the cuffs, causing the metal to bite painfully into his wrist. Just as he's about to start up again the door swings open and enters Hopper.

"Fuuuck," Eddie moans throwing his head back onto the pillow.

"Fuck is right," Hopper quips, walking over to the wall and leaning against it.

"I don't have time for this. Y/n needs me!" Tears of frustration begin to slip out the corners of his eyes.

"She's okay— I checked on her after you fainted." Hopper's gaze is steady as he stares at Eddie under the perch of his hat.

"I did not faint," Eddie grits out harshly.

"Sure kid— whatever you say. So, you mind telling me why you ran off like that huh?"

Letting out a sigh Eddie explains who you are to him and how that was the reason why he had reacted toward Hopper last night.

Hopper stood silently, taking everything in as he waited for him to finish. Once he was done he stood still for a moment in contemplation. Never taking his eyes off of Eddie he pushed away from the wall, walking over to Eddie on the bed.

Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches Hopper dig a set of keys from his pocket and unlock his cuffs. Rubbing the bruised flesh on his wrist he hurriedly got up from the bed, making his way over to the door.

"Hey kid," Hopper calls out and Eddie stops in his tracks. "Drive safer next time. You won't do anyone any good if you're laid up in a hospital too."

Nodding his head, he throws a grateful look his way before slipping out the door. In no time he's back in front of your room. He takes a deep breath to steady the flutter of nerves in his stomach. The news of you being in a coma and on top of that you were pregnant had left him in a stupor.

He knew without a doubt that it was his. That must have been the news you wanted to share with him last night. A fresh wave of guilt sets in at the thought of you crashing because you were hurrying to get back and tell him. You had to be at least two months now. He wondered how long you'd known and why you hadn't told him sooner. You must have been so scared of how he would react.

He shook his head, causing his curls to swing wildly. It didn't matter why you didn't tell him, the only thing he cared about right now was you and his baby's health.

With another deep breath, he opens the door to your room, entering silently. An older woman sits near your bed with her head resting in your lap as she wept silently. He stood near the door, not sure what to do next. Her head popped up at the sound of the door clicking shut.

'This must be your mom,' he thought to himself as she looked up at him in confusion. "Can I help you?" She croaked, clearing her throat as she wiped away the tears coating her cheeks.

"Hi— um I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson, I'm Y/n's boyfriend." He knows that you would give him the side eye at the self-appointed title he had given himself but he panicked! He couldn't say you guys were two people who used to fuck each other and that he had fallen in love with you but he wasn't sure if you even felt the same. Shifting from foot to foot he stood nervously waiting for her to respond.

After what felt like an eternity she finally responds "Hello, I'm Y/m/n. I'm sorry but you're her boyfriend? I've never met you," she replied with a soft sniff.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly "Yeah, our relationship is kinda new?" His eyes drift over to you and he couldn't help but move closer to you towards the other side of the bed.

She watches him as he carefully takes ahold of your hand, his thumb stroking your knuckles soothingly. The care shown in his movements and the sincerity in his eyes has her deciding right then and there that she liked him. However, she didn't like secrets and she wouldn't make it easy on him.

A knock at the door sounds off abruptly,  causing both heads to turn toward the source of the noise. The door opens and in walks the doctor from yesterday.

"Hello, good morning," he says looking over at Eddie. Turning towards your mom he extends his hand to her "Hi, I'm Dr. Raymond."

"Hello, I'm Y/m/n and L/n, Y/n's mother." She takes his hand and shakes it briefly before dropping it back into her lap. Her hands grip the small pocketbook on her lap nervously as she casts a glance at you. "Doctor give it to me straight. Why is my little girl not waking up?"

He proceeds to explain the same thing that he told Eddie yesterday. That you were in a coma and had sustained severe head trauma but that you had responded well to some of their tests, so they still had hope that you could pull through this. "Mrs. Y/m/n, the best thing to do is, be here for her and let her know that you're here for her. Also, as the pregnancy progresses you can speak to the little one as well. Studies have shown that the fetus responds positively to music and even talking."

"I'm sorry, did you say pregnancy," she whispers, cutting her eyes over to Eddie as he shifts uncomfortably under her cold gaze.

The doctor also begins to get nervous as he notices the shift in her demeanor. "Yes— um, your daughter here is about 9 weeks gestation. The baby is perfectly healthy from what we've seen so far but we'll make sure to keep an eye out for any complications due to your daughter's condition."

Sweat begins to trickle down the nape of Eddie's neck. This was not how he envisioned meeting your mom. He's glad that looks can't kill because if they could he'd be a goner.

"Did you know about this Mr. Munson?" Her stern eyes were locked on his, refusing to allow him to look away.

"No ma'am, I just found out yesterday," he replies with a grimace as he rubs the back of his tender head. "Kinda took me by surprise too."

Pinching the bridge of her nose with a tired sigh, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts. Not only did she just find out that her daughter was in a coma from a car crash but she was also pregnant! She wants to be mad but knows it's not the time or the place. "It's okay— I'm not mad. I'm just surprised is all," she replies a moment later.

"Ma'am, I plan on being here for Y/n and the baby every step of the way," Eddie states firmly,  doing his best to assure her.

"Oh, I know you will, Eddie. I wouldn't allow it any other way." Her tone is icy as a chilling smile settles across her face. "I guess we'll be getting to know each other very well, huh?"

A shiver runs down his back at her words. Nodding his head in agreeance he looks at the doctor who took that as his cue to speak again. Even though he had meant well, sometimes he couldn't read a room and had caused many uncomfortable situations. Clearing his throat he began to explain the next steps moving forward.

All issues pushed aside, momentarily, Eddie and your mom sat silently as they listened to the doctor explain the pending surgeries, treatments, and overall care needed for you and your baby. This was going to be a rough journey and Eddie was determined to be here for you every step of the way.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Eddie hums quietly to himself as he walks briskly up the flight of steps. A habit he's formed over the past few months of taking the stairs to your room other than the elevator. It was just something about being trapped in a confined space that irritated him so he always chose the stairs instead. He had written you a song and couldn't wait to sing it for you.

To be honest he still hasn't really adjusted to you being unresponsive but he still comes to see you every day after school. Some days he comes late at night after work and would just spend the night, sleeping on the small pull-out couch in your room.

On those days when he had to work or had DND, Robin, Steve, or your best friend would come in his place until he was able to get there. It had become sort of a routine, to the point where they had memorized each other's weekly schedules. You had a great support system and he was forever grateful to them for the help they had given him and you.

In no time he makes it to your floor, giving brief nods to somewhat familiar faces along the way. This floor is for long-term care and most of the people who frequent here, have been here for just as long if not longer than you.

Holding the fresh set of flowers against his chest, he opens the door to your room. There you are laying peacefully in your bed. The bruises that coated your face have long since faded leaving a small scar running through your eyebrow.

Eddie was the first to notice the mark, he had commented to your mom how the scar resembled a lightning bolt and how metal that was. After switching the flowers out in the vase on the table with the fresh ones, he quickly crosses the room to you.

"Hey sweet thing," he greets you with a soft kiss. His lips linger on yours as he feels a faint twitch as your body responds to his touch. The first time that happened he had shouted for joy, causing the staff to come barreling through the doors at the commotion.

After examining you and Eddie to make sure he hadn't lost his mind. They had explained to him that sometimes your body would react to certain things and not get his hopes up. Eddie, however, knew that was bullshit, he knew that deep down, wherever your mind was, it was calling out to him and whenever he touched you he hoped that it was bringing you closer to him. So whenever he visited you he would talk to you while brushing your hair or he would sing to you as he massaged your limbs.

His gaze travels down your body stopping at the growing swell of your belly. Pressing his ear against your stomach he places his hand on your lower belly massaging gently. "Daddy's here," he says as he taps rhythmically against your skin covered by the thin blanket.

A sharp kick pushes against his hand in response and he grins "I missed you too angel." Your leg jerks at the movement causing his eyes to turn back toward you. "I think mommy's tired today, so take it easy on her okay?" He presses a sweet kiss to your stomach before turning his attention back to you.

With a smile, he goes through his usual routine of telling you about his day. He sings to you as he rubs your favorite lotion onto your arms and legs, pausing when he sees the subtle shift of your stomach causing your eyelids to flutter. You look so peaceful that he sometimes thinks that you're just playing a joke on everyone and will wake up at any moment.

A sad sigh escapes and he shakes his head in an attempt to war off the negative thoughts. He mentally shakes it off, refusing to think that you won't wake up.

Cuddling up in bed next to you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as his journal rests in his lap. His tongue rests on his top lip as he jots down some new ideas for his campaign. The first time he had climbed into bed with you, he was scolded something furious by your mom and the nurses. They told him that there was simply not enough room to hold the both of you without putting your safety in jeopardy, something Eddie had quickly debunked as he slipped in beside your small frame without disturbing your peace.

The doc was the one who had gone to bat for him, explaining that it might help you to have his presence as close as possible. So by your side was where he laid, unless your mom or dad was there and out of respect, he usually took the seat by your bed instead. Your mom and him had gotten close over the past six months, bonding over the gravity of your situation. Your dad showed up every blue moon, never sticking around long enough for Eddie to get to know him. He imagined that was a song and dance that your dad had perfected throughout your life, never being around to form an actual connection with his loved ones.

A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he slips from the bed, making his way to the door. Whoever was knocking had to be someone who didn't visit often. Most of the regular visitors would knock and just come on in. He wondered briefly who it could be before opening the door.

Surprise spread quickly across his face at the sight of Chrissy standing there with a bouquet of flowers in hand. "Hi Eddie," she whispers, trying to sneak a look behind him into the room.

Not wanting to let her in just yet, he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Chrissy," he replied, glancing at the flowers she held nervously in her grasp.

"How have you been?" she asks cautiously. They hadn't spoken ever since that day in the gym. Whenever she would try and speak to him at school, he would blatantly ignore everything.

"What are you doing here Chrissy?" His tone was short, not in the mood to play any of her mind games.

Taken aback, she pauses, before giving him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I just wanted to check on you and Y/n of course," she adds quickly. "I think it's honorable how you come here every day to visit her."

"There's nowhere else I would rather be," he replies, shrugging his shoulders in response.

Silence ensues as she struggles to come up with something to say. Conversation use to come easy with Eddie and now it's as if they were strangers. Ever since you came along he had all but cast her aside to be with you. The thought still burned her up inside and she wanted nothing more than to go into that room and finish what she had started.

"Well, thank you for coming but Y/n isn't accepting any visitors at this time." Done with the conversation he steps back towards the door putting his hand on the knob.

"Eddie please I— I know that we aren't on the best of terms but I do care," a small smile sits across her face as she holds his gaze imploringly.

His instincts are screaming not to let her in but he can't help but feel that maybe you would want to make amends with Chrissy. Throwing his head back with a loud groan he mutters a short "sure" before turning on his heel, back towards the room. Before he can even step over the threshold, his name is called down the hall.

It's one of the friendly nurses at the nurse's station. They look out for him by letting him pick whatever he wants from the Cafe menu at no charge. His dedication and loyalty to you is something that has caused most of the staff to treat him kindly, despite the usual treatment he receives from his outward appearance.

Glancing back at Chrissy whose hands are held behind her back with the flowers crushed between them. A worried look flashes across his face as he halts mid-step.  

"It's okay, we'll be fine." She says sweetly, crossing her fingers behind her.

"I'll be back, kay?" He gives her a long and wary look before turning and making the trek down the hall.

As soon as his back is turned, the smile drops from her face, replaced with a sinister sneer. Gripping the knob she twists it, causing the door to open. Slipping inside the room, she shuts the door softly and scoffs at her behavior. She doesn't know why she's being so cautious, it's not like you would wake up from the sudden noise.

She cackles at the thought that you might not ever wake up, taking pride in her handiwork, before covering her mouth to stifle the giggles. You might not be conscious to hear her but that doesn't mean nobody else could.

She takes a minute to catch her breath before stalking over to you. The flowers hang limply by her side as she observes your current state. Your face is pale but still somehow holds a natural glow. It's obvious that someone has been taking good care of your appearance for you and the thought of it being Eddie sickens her. Her eyes travel from your face until they stop at the swell of your stomach.

Hot anger pulses through her at the sight of your baby bump. Although the thought of having kids this young didn't appeal to her, the knowledge that you were pregnant with his child made her green with envy.

Taking a step closer to you she rests her hand on your stomach, snatching it back quickly at the sudden movement she feels beneath her hand. The silence of the room presses against her as she's suddenly filled with the urge to end you, once and for all. She's sure that with you gone, her life can return back to normal. Hopeful that these negative feelings threatening to overwhelm her would be gone, once and for all.

She hasn't ever stopped to think that the foreign feelings she constantly feels may be the result of something much deeper than the feud between you two.

Placing one hand on the oxygen tube near your nose, she pinches it, cutting off the flow of circulation. The beeps of the machines start to rise as your heart rate accelerates steadily. She can see a slight movement beneath the lids of your eyes but other than that, you still show no signs of reaction.

She begins to wonder just how long this will take when a series of noises begin to sound off as the machines send off alerts of your distress. Your heart rate is dropping and before she can take joy in that, she hears footsteps running down the hall towards the room. She keeps ahold of the tube, wanting to be sure this time, when she sees a dark wet spot spreading over the blankets where your hips lay.

Before she could get a grasp on what that even meant, the door swung open, slamming into the wall behind it with a loud smack. Yanking her hand back she looks behind her to find Eddie glaring at her with an accusatory stare.

"What the hell did you do!" he shouts as he rushes to your side, knocking Chrissy out of the way.

"Nothing! I was just standing here!" she yells back. She drops her gaze at the intensity of his eyes on her, while creeping towards the door.  

A flood of medical staff fills the room and just as she is about to make her exit, her eyes meet Eddie's. His eyes are dark and cold, filled with silent rage as he stares her down. He doesn't know what happened but he's willing to bet that whatever it was had been Chrissy's fault.

She leaves the room not turning back. "Good riddance," Eddie thinks as he turns back towards you. Concern and worry are etched deep into his face as Doctor Raymond and several nurses check your vitals.

One nurse takes note of the wet spot on the bed, mentioning it aloud to the doctor. Eddie looks on, feeling helpless as he watches the doctor take his place at the end of the bed, lifting the sheet. He mentions something about checking a cervix but he has no clue what that means.

With a sense of urgency, the doctor begins firing off orders sending the nurses scrambling. "Doc! What the hell is going on?? What'd happening??!!" Eddie's hand holds onto yours tightly but is still delicate in a sense. It gives him a small sense of peace as he tries desperately not to freak out.

"She's dilating and I believe she's having contractions which would explain the spikes in her heart rate. Plus her water broke which is always a sign that the baby is coming," he answers while scooting past Eddie, to maneuver the bed, causing you to sit up slightly.

"But I'm not— I mean, they're not ready yet. She's only 8 months and she still isn't awake yet," he yells, grasping the lapels of the doctor's coat with his free hand. His eyes are big and wet as he struggles to keep ahold of his emotions.

The doctor's look is one of pity as he stops what he is doing to try and calm the young man down. "The baby is coming whether we want her to or not. Be strong you got this." He sets his hands atop Eddie's shoulders giving them a firm squeeze.

"But what about Y/n? Will she be okay," he asks in a small voice, sick with the thought of what this is doing to you.

Uncertainty is written across the man's face. "I'm not sure, medically speaking this could cause even more trauma to her body." He turns back towards you as the nurses begin to prep you for delivery. "But off the record, I believe that Y/n is strong enough to overcome this. She's made great progress over the last couple of months."

His words quell the fear coursing through him and with a look of resolve he grips your hand firmly with his. He whispers words of praise into your ears, praying that you can hear him. Soon your mom hurries into the room, taking her place on the other side of the bed. Your best friend and dad sit in the waiting room as your body attempts to deliver your baby naturally.

Hours pass as the team of doctors and nurses oversee the delivery, while also staying out of the way to not overcrowd the room. Eddie stands in the same spot, not having moved an inch since everything started. Not trusting that something terrible won't happen as soon as he leaves.

He takes a small towel handed to him by a nurse as he wipes the thin layer of sweat coating your brow. "Doing so good baby," he says, pressing a small kiss between your brow.

The high pitch beeping of monitors takes his attention from you towards the foot of the bed where the doctor sits perched on a stool. "Alright everyone, it's showtime." His head disappears underneath the high tent of the sheet where your legs sit perched with the assistance of your mom and a nurse.

His heart thunders in his ears as he waits on bated breath. A small twitch against his hand catches his attention immediately. He whips his head towards you, noting the faint look of pain on your face. If he hadn't spent the past few months staring at you incessantly, he wouldn't have caught it.

"Sweetheart— can you hear me?" He says, feeling small petals of hope bloom in his chest. He signals to your mom who looks at you with a hopeful expression.

The look of distress grows deeper and deeper until finally, a tiny cry fills the room suddenly. Eddie's gaze snaps towards the sound as he sees the doctor hand off a small bundle to the nurse, who rushes off to a small station to clean the baby off and suction out any fluid from the baby's airways.

At that moment a loud hoarse cry fills the room, bouncing off of the walls, and sending echoes down the hall. All eyes are on you as your eyes spring open.

"Baby!" Eddie says in a soft voice filled with joy. He doesn't want to scare you with any loud noises but he can't help the onslaught of feelings coursing through him right now. His eyes begin to water as his emotions began to get the better of him. Your eyes meet his and it feels as if a piece of him falls back into place.

"Who are you?" you ask as tears leak out the corners of your eyes.

Dread fills Eddie from head to toe as he realizes that you don't recognize him. You try and snatch your hand away from his but your body is too weak to do so. Eddie knows he should give you space but he can't bring his body to cooperate.

Your mom speaks up, laying a kiss on your forehead "Hi sweetie, mommy's here and so is Eddie." Her eyes flit over to Eddie's with a look of pity as you don't react to his name.

The nurse appears at Eddie's side with a small bundle wrapped in a pink and white blanket. "Here you go dad," she says with a small smile.

The frown on his face is replaced with one of adoration as he stares at the baby lying in his arms. Any doubts he may have had are quickly dispelled at the sight of his daughter. Black curls peek out from under the pink-striped hat on her head. Deep brown eyes stare curiously back at him as he looks at her in awe. She's a perfect mix of you both, the best parts of both of you.

"Hey princess, I'm your daddy, and this is your mommy," he says in a sweet tone. Eddie turns toward you and his eyes meet yours again. Uncertainty clouds your eyes as you look from him to the baby in his arms.

You don't know what's going on but something inside you tells you that this is right. That this is your family, even if you can't remember the strange man in front of you or the fact that you had been pregnant. "Can— can I hold her?" you wince at the strain the words have on your throat.

"Of course sweet— I mean Y/n." Eddie catches himself before the pet name falls from his lips. He leans over you slightly as he places her into your arms gently.

His fingers rub against your arms softly as he moves away and it feels as if lightning is coursing through you. You ignore it for now and focus on the baby lying against you. Her eyes are big and brown, an exact copy of the boy next to you. Warmth spreads in your chest as a feeling of love begins to overwhelm you.

Eddie looks at you both with tears streaming down his cheeks. He feels a slew of emotions, the main ones are a sense of joy and sorrow at the irony of it all. He had prayed every night for you to wake up and when you did, the fact that you didn't remember him anymore hurt worse than when you were in the coma. At least then he had hope that you two could be together again someday but now that seemed impossible.

He looks over to you again and your eyes meet. You stare into his eyes, holding his gaze with a small smile painted across your lips. He feels so much love for you at that moment and although he may not know what tomorrow will bring, he knows for sure that he will never leave your side again, no matter what. He vows that he will do whatever it takes to protect you both.

Taglist: @bibieddiesgf @tlclick73 @seventhlevelofhell @emmysuebull22 @adequate-superstar @vintagehellfire @sidthedollface2 @blue-eyed-lion @hazydespair @fly-on-the-wall @nicolaj1978 @sinczir @starrywhitenight @merciiss @hanahkatexo @kellysimagines @hargrovesswifee @simp4rengoku @igglepiggle22 @isimpforeveryonee @urdad-hot @thikkiesixx @billyhargrovesfuturewife @sammararaven @yogizzz @micheledawn1975 @munsonenthisiast @kissmejoey @klea221 @ms1oftheboys @whoahoney @foreveranexpatsposts @maysrains @alanamarie @emmalee-01 @kaitebugg03 @angel-jz @hereforshmut

[blueberry-obsessed]

Thank youuuu @saviour-of-lord for the tag!! I will happily snag up any opportunity to yap about writing

Last line game - share the last line(s) of whatever you're working on:

I am working on two fics simultaneously right now. I am so serious, I have one wip open on my phone, and the other is open on my laptop, and I am switching back and forth. So I thought I'd share both! One is f1 based, and the one under the cut isn't, fyi

Charles watches him flip through it. Lots of pages, ample amounts of printer ink, and an even greater abundance of red stamps. He's certain this file---unlike the ones stacked high on the desk---is compiled with fewer red-letter names and more Leclerc and Verstappen. Admittedly, it is an impressive feat. There used to be two separate, comically overfilled folders for them at the academy. This must be the abridged version. Charles wonders how long it must have taken the trainees to wring his—and consequently, Max's—achievements dry before relocating the information onto crisp A4 paper.

Andddd

"Then I have you to enjoy for the foreseeable future." "Within seven years," Will muses, the whiskey—syrupy smooth in the way only the finest alcohol ever is—sits thick on the back of his palate, working with burning diligence to losen his tongue, "the cells in my body will have renewed." He sets his half-full glass down gently so as not to make a singular sound. Still, the amber liquid sloshes inside, and fiery flares reflect back at him—promising more than just a reckoning. "I wonder if I will still taste the same, if your cravings will change as I do. For when we enjoy the things we desire, there remains no more appetite."

These are wayyyyyy more than one line because I am nothing if not an oversharer.

No pressure tags<3 @marieshyperf1xations @starrwrrld and anyone else who wants to join!!

[kanguin]

That poem hit me hard wow. Idk why I want to open up on Tumblr of all places but idk. I never share personal stuff in posts. Just oversharing in tags.

So yeah. I'm depressed. Depressed as shit. I quit my job recently because the commute, the low pay, and the high social energy cost of making 100+ phone calls a day just. Sucked the life out of me. Even my mother and fiance could see it. But this just marks burnout number... 4? I believe. I've experienced burnout and mental collapse 4 times now in the past decade. 4 years between the first two, 5 between the next two, and now just 1 year between this one and the last. And now I'm supposed to look for a job I like again, but... I don't know what I'd like. I'm not exactly enjoying life right now. And the thought of selling more of my life for money is not putting me in a good mental spot.

I don't play video games anymore. I haven't been able to do so for more than a couple weeks a year in ages. I never talk to my friends one on one anymore. I have no hobbies to speak of, really, aside from messing around on my computer, but it's not like I have the space to engage in any hobbies anyway since my broke ass still lives with my mom. I have my fiance living with me now, but while they're an emotional anchor, we have no space to our own besides the bedroom and a bonus room, but the latter is still technically a public space we can't decorate ourselves or use for painting or hobbies.

I feel stuck and miserable. I want to move out, I want my own home and space to be unbothered in, I want my own fridge and pantry with my own food, and to be able to be out of my bedroom without being on call for sudden required tasks or unwelcome socialization. I want a space to engage in hobbies; sculpting, painting, building, working with my hands. I want to be able to operate on my own schedule and not have to compromise on when is too late to start a task or eat a meal. I want to be able to start HRT in the privacy of my own home, so that I don't have to disclose my transition until I'm ready. I want... Freedom. I want to be able to live a life that feels mine, and not like I'm living in borrowed space and time.

But all of that requires money, and that just leads to a catch 22. I need money to achieve my desires, but need a job to get money. But I need a job I am happy doing so as not to burnout a 5th time, but I need to be able to enjoy life and work in the first place for that. And if I already enjoyed my life I wouldn't be in such a bad spot mentally.

I used to be so hopeful and determined for my future, but it's been 6-7 years since I graduated college with my bachelor's, and by now I've all but lost hope things will ever change. This genuinely feels like this is it, I'll be stuck here in this house until my mother dies, I get kicked out, or my heart takes me to an early grave like my father.

My next therapy appointment isn't for two weeks. I sure hope I stay on topic next time, because I only ever realized all the things I forgot to cover after the appointment. Even though I had my issues well memorized and written down.

...

If anyone actually reads this long ass ramble, I'm sorry. It's nearly 5am for me writing this.

.

..

To be honest, one of the aspects of my personality I miss the most is my love of making and keeping friends. Not that I was ever good at it, but I always enjoyed getting to know someone knew, and of course I loved learning more about my existing friends, too. There are so many people I can think of where I go "wow, I wish I had the energy to get to know them", but I can't really do that anymore in good conscience. Anyone I try and befriend nowadays is just going to get abandoned in a month or two when my overwhelming shame drive me to ghosting them.

[paeonia-horse]

Oversharing with 15 answers to 15 questions! Tagged by @crayonurchin

Are you named after anyone? Nah, I picked my own name cos I wanted something neutral-ish on account of I suck at gender.

When was the last time you cried? I watched through the entirety of Cowboy Bebop recently and there are several bits in it that always make me tear up.

Do you have kids? No, and no plans for any.

What sports do you play/have you played? Nothing in a decade or more, unless walking counts (and I don't do nearly as much of that as I should)

Do you use sarcasm? Entirely too much in person, but not so much in writing where it is harder to discern.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Demeanour and vibe.

What is your eye color? Dull green.

Scary movies or happy endings? I mostly prefer movies with a happy ending, though a good scare now and then is fun.

Any talents? I can bake a potato in 20 minutes using nothing but the power of my mind and also the microwave.

Where were you born? Somewhere in, around, or near Glasgow. No more specific than that.

What are your hobbies? Dithering about in video games, and sometimes when the mood takes me, i draw a horse critter or two.

Do you have any pets? If the local pigeons count then yes, a whole flock of semi-feral pets. Otherwise no.

How tall are you? 5' 3", aka a bit of a shortarse.

Favorite subject in school? Honestly of all the thing I done in school, tech drawing and home economics were the most fun subjects, I wish I had pursued them once I could pick my own subjects for the year instead of choosing more science and computing related things that just burnt me out in the end.

Dream job? I want to live on a boat somewhere quiet and make art of some sort for a living, but I don't have a boat, or any real skill with art. Might be working on the boat side of things, but I have no mojo to work on the art side of things, so this is probably just a pipe dream really.

Tagging @themarvelhorse, @smrtz, @dracini, @azuki-beans and @strawberrydakry cos I've seen y'all in my activity recently and I appreciate y'all for sticking around!

If you do chose to do this, remember to throw in some red herrings to confound any online identity thieves looking for identifiable information.

[maxbegone]

happy wednesday! this was fueled by matcha and two prickly pear sodas my friend made me at work! and thank you for the tag @iboatedhere ♥️

June shoves Alex as she climbs into bed that night. Nora climbs in after her, going up the middle and laying between them both. Gentle thunder rolls in the distance, and a flash of lightning brightens the room for a moment.

“Ow, ow, ow!” Alex swats at her. “Those are my ribs, Nora!”

She gives his hair a solid tug, and he swats her again, nearly making contact with her face this time. “Relax, Alejandro. You’ll live.”

“Why couldn’t you two sleep on the floor?” June groans from her pillow.

“Because you’d never subject us to that.”

“That’s not true. I would never subject you to that,” she says to Nora. “Alex, on the other hand…”

“Hey! I’m your brother.”

She lifts her head up to look at him. “So?”

“You’d feed me to the wolves,” he deadpans, “wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, in a goddamn heartbeat.”

“You guys are entertaining,” Nora laughs. There’s a pause before she continues. “So, what do you think of our visitors?”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t think,” June starts. “That they’ll kill us in our sleep.”

“Morbid, bug.”

“What? You think they will?”

“No,” Alex says. “They didn’t have anything when we searched them.”

“It’s not like they can’t choke us out or or rob us blind or smuggle us with a pillow or something,” Nora suggests rather casually. “Or set the house on fire.”

“Now who’s morbid?”

“They’re fine,”Alex tells them both. When Nora hums a sly little tune, Alex gives her a look. “What?”

“They are definitely fine.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re telling me they’re not?”

“I—” Alex cuts himself off. “That is not up to me to decide.”

June snorts. “Says who?”

And, well. Alex really doesn’t know how to answer that. So he doesn’t.

“But,” June continues. “That Pez really is somethin’.”

“Mm, yes he is,” Nora agrees. “Maybe he passed out so you’d take care of him.”

June laughs. “That would be quite the move, but I am not opposed to it.”

“Wait, you’re calling him Pez?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, he told me to.” June rolls onto her side and smiles conspiratoraly at Nora, Alex suddenly being shoved from the conversation. “Do you think he’s single?”

“I mean, literally everybody’s single in the apocalypse.”

“But do you think he and Henry are a thing?”

Alex can’t see her face, but he imagines that Nora scrunches up her nose. “Maybe? Maybe not?”

“They’re not,” Alex finds himself butting in. He immediately freezes when the girls look at him, and he does his best to play it off as nonchalant. “They’re…friends. Family.”

Nora rolls over, a mischevious glint in her eye. “Is that something Henry told you?”

“More or less.”

“He said Percy’s his only family,” Alex tells them, feeling a little too much like he’s oversharing. “They were in Brooklyn when everything went down.”

Nora whistles. “Shit.”

“Weird how we could have run into them before all of this,” June mutters. “Makes me think we should’ve gone to Black Flamingo more often.”

“Mm, no. Not after the bouncer incident.” Alex looks pointedly at Nora. “Right?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my God!” June laughs. “I forgot about that!”

“How could you possibly forget?” Alex asks as he props himself up on his elbow. “Nora literally knocked the guy out cold for—”

In one swift motion, Nora takes the pillow from under her head and smacks him in the face with enough force that he nearly rolls off the bed. “Hey, the dude had it coming!”

“What the hell? I wasn’t saying he didn’t!”

She takes her pillow back before Alex can even swing it at her and huffs. “I was drunk and on a mission.”

“Yes, we’re all well aware of you becoming a vigilnate when you’re drunk,” June chimes.

“And now she carries a machete on her hip at all times.”

“Hey.” She points scoldingly at Alex. “Don’t make fun of Gertrude.”

He rolls his eyes. “And where is Gertrude, anyway?”

“She’s not in the room with the guy who passed out on the way to the house this afternoon, don’t worry. She’s under the bed.”

Alex looks at June over Nora. “Did either of us have this version of Nora on the bingo card three years ago?”

“Alex, nothing we had on that bingo card was even close to our machete-wielding supercomputer.”

Nora blows a raspberry. “Computers are outdated.”

“Whatever.” June hits her pillow a few times to fluff it, then settles in and closes her eyes. “I’m going to sleep now. Please stop talking.”

Alex spends the night with Nora’s knee in his back and periodically waking up from the storm.

He spends half the time he’s awake thinking about the two strangers taking up his room and Nora’s. Percy — or Pez, he supposes — comes across his mind every so often, but Alex mostly finds himself thinking about Henry; the fear in his eyes, the shakiness in his voice, how badly Alex wished he could have comforted him more.

It’s a wild thought, he knows that. But he supposes this is what several years into an apocalypse will do.

[darlingian]

WEEKLY TAG WEDNESDAY

thanks for the tag @energievie! (also sorry everyone, looks like I've overshared on the tag game again... lmao)

Name: c h a n i

Age: thirty one.

Location: Winterpeg, Manitoba

And now, think about your childhood and tell me:

Did you have a nickname and is it still used? chani is a nickname technically. But I've been called it more than my legal name. Other than that no nicknames have ever really stuck.

What did you want to be when you'd grow up? As a kid i always said "artist or vet". But neither panned out. lol When I was a bit older I just wanted to do something in the medical field. (hopefully there's still time to make that happen)

Your favourite cartoon: Arthur. My Arthur obsession has never left me. lolol

Your favourite TV show: Will & Grace was my favourite tv show as a kid. I know. I have two young kids and I can't imagine either of them sitting through an episode, let alone choosing to watch it. Hahaha

Your favourite book: James Herriot's Treasury for Children. I used to pour over the illustrations and imagine I was a country vet. (My favourite was the one with the two retired draft horses)

Your favourite toy: I looooooved baby dolls. Any kind. Although I had a special fondness for those Ty Beanie Kids.

Your favourite thing to eat: pork ribs and french toast.

Your favourite school subject: Art class. I think it was always the only class I received praise from teachers.

How did you spend your summers? My grandparents retired to their cottage in the Muskokas and my sister and I would visit them for weeks in the summer. We also went every August to my parent's friend's cottage, also in the Muskokas. Or horse camp. My childhood summers were such a haven away from my shitty usual homelife.

Did you listen to music? If yes, did you have a favourite band/artist? Ohhhh yeah. My friends and I would make up dances to spice girls, aqua, avril lavigne, and pink! I was also obsessed with the Shrek soundtrack cd.

And lastly, tell me something you did as a kid that your parents still don't know about: Lol I had neglectful parents. I don't think they know about anything I did. lmao.

I'll tag @deedala @michellemisfit @too-schoolforcool @heymacy @heymrspatel @gardenerian @crossmydna @callivich @juliakayyy @mickeysgaymom @creepkinginc @stocious @sam-loves-seb @mybrainismelted @gallawitchxx @palepinkgoat @thepupperino

[tinyboxxtink]

"Summer Of '87" [Chapter 6]

Hey guys, sorry I've been MIA. It's just been a rough week, physically and mentally. Still not working, kinda getting to my psyche.

ANYWAY this is a longer-ish chapter, I hope it makes up for it!

Be sure to let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag List:

@gingertimelord

@witchwolflea

@loliakeoghan23

@fancytragedything

@eg-dr3amer3

@wanniiieeee

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

------

That night during the show, you stood backstage just watching them all at work. Naturally most of the time you couldn’t take your eyes off of Eddie, but every so often you’d glance over at the others, especially Gareth. The exchange you all had earlier was burned into your brain, and you were dreading the moment they got off stage.

Maybe you shouldn’t say anything; it’s not really any of your business, right? But yet you still felt….you didn’t know, responsible somehow. Not that it would’ve been in any way possible, obviously. So why did you feel the need to take it upon yourself to “fix”it? Obviously the other guys had no problem with Gareth’s….feelings, so it wasn’t like he was unsafe. 

You had just talked yourself into staying out of it when you were knocked from your thoughts by both Jeff and Quentin. The show had ended without you even noticing. 

“Eddie’s gonna be over here any second man,” Jeff nudged Quentin as he nodded back towards where Eddie was gathering his equipment and Gareth was grabbing his gear.

“We know you got the gist earlier, but I-- WE, think--” Q gestured between the two of them. “You should maybe talk to Gar.”

“We’re not the greatest at the whole feelings thing,” Jeff concluded. 

“Yeah the only reason we know anything is because one night Gar decided to go into detail how he wanted to--”

“Express, how attractive Eddie is,” Jeff gave Q a warning look.

“Right,” Q nodded sheepishly, knowing he was oversharing. “But um, anyway we know how hard it must be for him, but we really don’t wanna talk about it,” 

“NOT that we have a problem with it,” Jeff quickly added. 

“Oh yeah, not at all,” Q agreed. “No, we’re just not good with the…feelings stuff. In general,” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” You rolled your eyes. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, though? I mean, I’m not really sure I’m Gareth’s favorite person to talk about anything with, let alone…this,” 

“But he asked you to come because you make Eddie happy, calm,”  Jeff explained.

“In a way he wants to but can’t,” Q added.

“EXACTLY!” You tried not to scream. “Why would he want to talk about…that, with me? The person he wants to--” 

“Hey there,” Eddie suddenly came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “What are we doing?” 

“I was just um--” you looked at the two of them. “Telling the guys what a great job they did,” 

“Jeff was off in ‘Blood Sacrifice,” Eddie shrugged. 

“Hey!” Jeff cried defensively. “Was not,” 

“Why all the hostility, bros?” Gareth walked up on the conversation. “We kicked ass!” 

“Uh, why don’t you come tell me about how I fucked up that song, Edds?” Jeff was suddenly tugging on Eddie’s shirt. 

“What?” Eddie asked suspiciously as you casually removed his hands from your waist. “What’s happening right now?” 

“Nothing babe,” you assured him as both Jeff and Q started walking with him. 

“Yeah, clearly,” Eddie rolled his eyes but followed his friends, mildly worried about the scheme they were pulling. 

------

“Oh no,” Gareth immediately picked up on what you were doing. “Look Y/N, I don’t need your girlie psycho analysis on my ‘feelings’, okay?” 

“Alright,” you said in an offended tone. “Look I’m not trying to overstep or anything, but Jeff and Quentin asked me--”

“Well who asked them?!” Gareth suddenly got defensive. “I don’t need to ‘talk’ anything out, okay? I’ve been doing pretty okay just bottling it in,” 

“Gareth come on,” You crossed your arms. “Did you or did you not ask me to come on this thing to help?”

“To help EDDIE, not ME,” he spat as he started walking away, but you were quick to follow him. 

“Well, too bad.” you said matter of fact. “‘I’m here to help in general,”

“And what exactly do you think you’re going to help, huh?” Gareth stopped and looked at you coldly. “You think if I-- what, ‘confess’ my feelings for Eddie that it’s somehow going to make everything better? That it won’t just make things hella awkward for EVERYONE? You two obviously have something, even if I say something it’s not like we’re going to ever-- be, something,” 

“I-I guess,” you said quietly. 

“Look, I don’t know what Jeff and Q were hoping to accomplish by asking you to ‘help’, but I don’t need it. You being here, doing what i asked, is help enough. Loving someone is putting their needs above your own. Wanting them to be happy and safe, no matter what.” 

“...What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, feeling like that little spiel was directed at you. 

“It means you better have the best intentions with Eddie, and continue to have them. Because he’s been through a lot more than you could even begin to imagine, and if asking you to come with us ends up making him more miserable than I’ll never forgive you OR myself,” 

“Gareth,” you said softly as you got closer to the other guys. “I swear to you, if nothing else, I would NEVER hurt Eddie. Not intentionally,” 

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” he said even more agressively.

“I mean-- I don’t know!” you sighed. “I can’t control the future, stuff happens.”

“Right,” he rolled his eyes. “Well--”

“Are you two done hashing it out?” Eddie suddenly interrupted you. “Jeff and Q said that’s what you were doing,”

“Uh-- yeah, yeah I think so,” you nodded nervously as you glanced at Gareth.

“Yeah man, we’re cool.” 

“Good,” he smiled as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Cuz Gar, Y/N is gonna be around for the foreseeable future,” 

“Oh I figured,” he rolled his eyes as you all walked towards the back of the venue and back to the bus. 

----------

“Next stop, HOME!!!!” Jeff yelled excitedly as you piled onto the tour bus. 

“Oh God,” you gulped nervously. Things were about to get real, real quick.

“Oh that’s right,” Eddie saw the face you made. “Are you ready for this?” 

“I just…” you sighed as you sat on a couch in the back. “I don’t know how to approach it. Do I let you guys have your reunion and catch up for a while, and then drop in? Should we-- should we do it together?”

“Well,” he took your hands. “Do you WANT to do it together?” 

You didn’t want to admit you wanted Eddie to hold your hand to meet your little brother. After all, you didn’t even know they knew each other a few days ago, and you had planned this for months. You didn’t need him there, but you definitely wanted him to be. 

“It’s whatever you wanna do, Edds.” you played with his rings. “Dustin is really your little brother in every way that matters. Whatever you think is best for the both of you is good enough for me.” 

  “Well, that’s very sweet of you to say,” Eddie smiled as he took your hands. “But he’s ACTUALLY your brother. And yeah, I’d like to have time with him, but I know you don’t want to be there longer than you have to. So--”

“Oh no,” you stopped him. “Please don’t feel rushed, Eddie. I planned to stay in Hawkins all summer with some friends, so there’s no pressure. And it’s really not your job to hold my hand, meeting Dustin was my decision, before even knowing you. So he doesn’t even need to know we know each other. It might make things weirder, to be honest.” 

“You wanna pretend we’re strangers?” he asked in a rather hurt tone. 

“I don’t WANT to,” you shook your head while rubbing the back of his hands with your thumb. “I just--- I want to do what’s best for all of us. And introducing myself as his big sister and his best friends--” you stopped yourself, knowing you both agreed not to go there yet.

“...Friend,” you blushed. 

“Close, friend,” he winked while gripping your hands together. 

“Right,” you bit your lip. “Whatever we are, I don’t want him to feel betrayed or something,” 

“I mean, to be fair we met completely innocently, before I knew you were his sister,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, I know.” you looked down. “That doesn’t mean he’ll see it any better,” 

“Well, not to toot my own horn,” he chuckled. “But maybe having my seal of approval will help with his opinion of you,”

“Oh lord,” you rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m sure,” 

“Hey I’m just saying!” he laughed. 

“Well we don’t have to decide anything right this second,” you sighed once more as you looked out the window at the passing cars. 

“True,” He got up and took your hand.

“We should get some rest,” 

“...But JUST rest, mister,” you gave him a look as you let him lead you to the bunks.

“Scout’s honor,” he crossed his heart.

------------

You both slept until morning, when the bus coming to an abrupt stop woke you both up. 

“I think we’re here,” Eddie yawned. 

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled sleepily. “What was your first clue?” 

“Well, I--” Eddie started to answer, but was cut off by pounding on the windows all around the bus.

“HEYYYYY MUNSON!!!!!!” you could hear a teenage boy’s voice and other kids yelling happily.

“Shit…” Eddie muttered as he went to one window. “It’s your brother,” 

“SHIT!” You screeched accidentally, taken off guard. 

All of Eddie’s friends jumped back from the bus at the sound of your shrill squawking.

“Nice,” he chuckled as he walked towards the front of the bus. 

“Henderson!!” The other band members greeted Dustin and some other boys. You recognized them as the other members of Hellfire. They were all wearing “Corroded Coffin” t-shirts.

“Just stay calm,” Eddie said to you softly as he exited the bus with you.

“Eddie!!!” Dustin didn’t hesitate to jump into his best friend’s arms, hugging him so tightly Eddie had to gasp for breath. 

“Hey there Henderson,” he smiled, then greeted the other boys. There were also seven other members of the welcome wagon, ones you didn’t recognize.

Four of them seemed to be your age, and three Dustin’s ages. You wanted to ask, but stayed quiet until Eddie decided how he was going to introduce you.

“Who’s the girl?” one of the older men asked. You quickly identified him as Steve Harrington, the only one you’d recognize seeing as you lived blocks from each other.

“Wow, thanks Harrington,” you rolled your eyes, forgetting to be discreet. 

His eyes widened at your familarness before it dawned on him. 

“Y/N?” He asked a bit in astonishment. “...How do you know Eddie?” 

“Y/N?” Nancy scrunched her nose. “You mean that girl who would constantly bother you when I came over?”

Okay, so maybe you left out that you had a huge crush on Steve Harrington as a kid, even though he was two years younger than you. How could you not? Although you did know him before he became “The Hair”, and transferred schools. It was no wonder you’d ‘bother’ him when he was home. 

“Did you now?” Eddie gave you an amused look. “Had a thing for ‘the hair’ Harrington?” 

“No!” you turned pink as you denied it, instinctively hugging yourself protectively. 

“You um,” Steve laughed nervously while you swore you saw him turning red himself. “You grew up nice,” 

“HEY,” Eddie raised his voice a bit as he stood protectively in front of you. “You had your chance Harrington,” 

“Eddie!” you hissed. “Down boy,” 

“So Steve’s old neighbor is your girlfriend now? How’d that happen?” One of the younger boys asked. 

“I’m not his--” You started to shut that down, but Eddie spoke over you. 

“She’s just a friend, Lucas,” he assured him. “She needed a ride home from Chicago, that’s all,”

“Kinda protective over a ‘friend’,” one you knew as Mike Wheeler snickered. 

“Well any friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine,” Dustin grinned, welcoming you with no hesitation. He was so sweet, you just wanted to hug the crap out of him. 

“Well, this was great and all but I think we need a minute to-- settle, y’know?” Eddie suggested.

“Sure, sure.” Dustin nodded.

“Is Y/N going to see her parents or is she shacking up with you?” Steve smirked. 

“Steve!!” The other older girl smacked him. “Ignore him, he’s a dingus.”

“Am not, Robin!” he crossed his arms.

“I am not ‘shacking up’ with ANYONE Harrington,” you crossed your arms. “I’m staying with some friends. And do NOT tell my parents you saw me,” 

“Well that I can do,” Seve sighed.

“His parents disowned him,” Robin said with an amused smile. 

“They did not ‘disown’ me!” Steve said defensively. “They just…cut me off, until I agree to go back to school,” 

“Go back to school?” you couldn’t help but giggle. “DId you drop out?”

“No!” he shook his head angrily. “But you try balancing school and defeating huge spider monsters--”

Suddenly Nancy was elbowing him in the ribs, HARD while the rest of them shot him a glare. 

“I mean, um--” 

“I told her,” Eddie rescued Steve from being the blabbermouth, causing even more glares and gasps from everyone. 

“Told her what, exactly?” Robin asked.

“All of it,” Eddie said plainly.

“EDDIE!” Nancy cried. “Are you nuts?! Why would you--?”

“I knew,” you jumped in before Eddie could say anything else. You were definitely NOT ready for him to disclose your lineage yet. 

“You knew?” a ginger haired girl raised an eyebrow. “How did you know?” 

“I was at the mall July 4th weekend,” you lied. From what Eddie knew and told you, that seemed the most plausible. 

“Y-You were?” the girl asked with a shaky voice. “You saw Billy?” 

“You mean the dickbag lifeguard?” you half laughed, remembering how you actually were home that summer and remembered how all the housewives drooled over him at the pool. He had hit on you a few times but you shut him down quickly. 

“That dickbag was my brother, you--” She made a lunge for you, but Lucas held her back.

“Max!!!” He said as he held her shoulders.

“I’m-- I’m sorry, I didn’t know--” You suddenly became very anxious. Eddie had left that part out, and now you had dug yourself a hole. 

“That’s um, that’s my bad,” Eddie coughed uncomfortably. “Sorry Red, I didn’t realize. I’ve only seen you at the trailer park, without a brother--” 

“We had to move to the trailer park when Bily died,” Max explained sadly. “Billy’s dad left us, and my mom had to get another job, we couldn’t afford the mortgage--” 

She was cut off by her own tears beginning to spill, making you and Eddie both feel awful. 

“Um on that note,” Lucas held her while she cried. “Maybe we should get going,” 

“Yeah, um-- I’m sorry again,” you looked down.

“But hold on, we need to discuss her being ‘brought in’ by Eddie.” Nancy the know it all jumped back in. “Which by the way, he had no authority to do--” 

“Alright Nance, let’s just calm down--” The fourth older boy put his arms around her. “We’ll just deal with it later,” 

“As long as she knows how to keep her mouth shut,” Max now added snidely, wiping her nose.

Welp, this was going way worse than you had hoped. There was no way you’d be telling them your relation to Dustin any time soon. 

“I’m not gonna say anything,” you said rather defensively, causing Eddie now to place his hands on your shoulders. 

“Who would I even say anything to?!” 

“Okay okay,” Dustin stepped in, always the diplomat. “Let’s all take a breather, yeah?”

“Agreed,” Mike nodded as he held the last girl’s hand. “El’s been through enough this year,” 

Well at least you knew everybody’s names now.

“We’ll let you guys unpack and breathe, maybe we can all have dinner later?” Dustin suggested, wanting everyone to get along. 

“Sounds great Dusty Buns,” Eddie chuckled as he ruffled Dustin’s hair. 

The others made begrudging noises of agreement as they all dispersed, leaving you Eddie and Dustin who lagged behind. 

“I’m sorry about them,” Dustin gave you a sympathetic smile. “They’re just a little high strung,” 

“I couldn’t tell,” you smiled in appreciation. “Dustin, I um-- there’s something I want to tell you--”

“Heads up!” Gareth called as he tossed luggage from the carrier under the bus. Luckily during all of the ‘discussion’ they had been distracted unloading things.

“Ooof!” You grunted as your bag hit your torso, causing Eddie to rage.

“Hey! Watch your aim, Gar!” he yelled angrily, rubbing your stomach. 

“You okay?” he asked you gingerly. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you smiled sweetly.

“I get it,” Dustin chimed in, knocking you from your love gaze. “You two are more than friends,”

“No!” you waved your arms while Eddie made a hurt pout. “I mean, not-- not really. Not yet,” 

“Not yet?” Dustin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s stopping you?”

“We um--” you bit your lip as you looked nervously at Eddie. 

If there was any time to explain all of this, it would be now before getting back together with the group, right? You really didn’t want to betray Dustin’s trust after all of his kind behavior and welcoming attitude. Surely he could handle this now, right?

“Well, I-- I didn’t come back to Hawkins for the summer, or just the summer,” You fidgeted with your nails as you spoke. 

“And not for Eddie either,” you added quickly. 

“So why did you come back?” Dustin asked quizzically.

“Well, I--” you glanced at Eddie one more time for confidence, and he held your hand in solidarity. 

“I came for you,” you said shakily. “You’re um-- well, I’m your sister,” 

You prayed to God in that moment he wouldn’t flip his shit.

---------

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