#it's not an assumption that comes with judgment or anything; maybe I just want to think of myself as less unusual in this very minor way?

[chthonic-cassandra]

Another inane post about food, but I keep thinking about how I always find myself surprised by how few people in my life/social circle are actually vegetarian, and I'm not sure why I do this? I grew up a vegetarian in a non-vegetarian household and everyone around me acted like it was really weird (and, in the case of some family members, tried to sneak meat into things I ate but that's another story), so I don't know why I would assume that it's something more people around me share, but I pretty consistently do?

#personal #food #it's not an assumption that comes with judgment or anything; maybe I just want to think of myself as less unusual in this very minor way? #we do meal planning on sundays so I always end up thinking a lot about food and cooking #do other vegetarians/vegans find themselves thinking this way?

[redwineandtarot]

your future spouse's first impression of you

hi! after a long time i am back with another reading❣️ i asked spirit using the term fs but you can use this for soulmates as well. please remember we have free will, i am just reading energies so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. i would love to hear your feedbacks <3

🥀paid readings🥀

Disclaimer: My readings do NOT replace any professional advice. Use your own judgment while making decisions. You have your own free will. Take everything I say light-heartedly. All of my readings are for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

pick a pile

piles 1-2-3

all pictures are from pinterest.

pile 1

They will think that you are a selfless person. And that you are always ready to help others. Or fight for your values. But in a subtle way. To them you have a calming aura. They will also see you as someone reserved, someone who prefers to keep to themselves and speak less. From the first impression, you are someone who is a bit passive. 

They will think that you have a rich inner self. However you seem to be avoiding it. I don't really know what exactly this is but your fs will be confused as to why you are avoiding this amazing part of you.

You have a mystic and wise energy to you. And to them you look like someone that trusts the universe (or whatever you believe in). You also seem mysterious to them. They will be intrigued by you and will want to know more about you. Maybe it's because you are somewhat different from them. Like they may be an atheist and you may be a pagan or you two may come from different cultures etc. This difference will spark their interest in you. Because to them, you bring a different outlook on life.

They will think that you know how to balance things and can see the different parts of a situation. They will think that you try to be fair.

I don't know how your person will see this but they will think that you accept change as it is and with peace. Maybe it's your calm demeanor that made them think this way.

They will see you as someone who takes a lot on their plate. Maybe you struggle with saying no and end up helping everyone even if it burdens you. Or it's just the way they see you.

Around the time you first meet them you may be very busy. Also you or them (or both) maybe in your 30s. And you may have a 2 year age gap for some of you.

your song: intro: singularity-bts

significant placements: libra, pluto, 3rd house aquarius, uranus, 12th house leo, south node, 4th house

thank you for reading ❤️

pile 2

They will see you as someone reliable and nurturing. You have an earthy vibe to you (also fiery), to them. You look like that friend who never leaves their friends alone in their hard times. 

They will think that you have a lot of potential in you. And already doing quite good in life. You move slowly while making decisions. You think before you act. However when you decide something you move swiftly and get what you want. You seem passionate to them. The line “I want it, I got it” from 7 rings-ariana grande is your line!

They will think that you are quite attracted to them, lmao. But they may think that you already have someone in your life. Again they make a lot of assumptions so you may have not said anything about this topic but still they just can't sit still lol. They think that you shine a lot so maybe that's why they assume you are not alone or at least people are chasing you. 

They will think that you have a lot to offer. Emotion and passion wise.

To them you are quite firm on your beliefs. For some of you they may see you have a debate with someone or you may have a debate with them in your first meeting. Or it's just something that will allow them to see your argumentative side. 🔞They will think that you are s3xy when you get all bossy(?) like that lol.

You seem like someone who is quite comfortable in their own skin. However they will see the hard work behind this confidence. Idk they will try to analyze a lot probably. Like try to see through you. You may have had to work hard to gain your confidence and maybe you were self conscious/had a low self esteem but worked hard and became who you are today. Again this is in their eyes.

Some of you here could have brownish-reddish hair here. Or will have that color when you meet your fs.

you got two songs: better by myself- hey violet, to me-alina baraz

significant placements: saturn, 2nd house, cancer south node, 7th house, leo south node, 11th house, libra

thank you for reading ❤️

pile 3

First of all, you may have a purple aura. I know this is a bit off topic but it came through.

You may have a darker aesthetic or may prefer darker colors on your clothes around the time you meet your fs. And they notice this. They may notice your legs and think that they are beautiful. Also I heard, boobs/chest area for some of you.

They will think that you know how to enjoy life and enjoy yourself. You have this nonchalant energy to them. And they see you as someone who is not afraid to express themselves and live authentically. You are at peace in life. You love your life and seem to enjoy it. To them, you are like a “no bs” person. 

Like your clothing, you may like/like to search about what society deems as “dark”, like occult etc.

They will think that you are a disciplined person. However at first they may understand you wrong, this discipline can seem like the will to win no matter what, to them. They may see you as someone who is defensive and does not accept their faults. Someone who is willing to do almost everything to win. However I am not seeing that this is the case with you. Because of this later they may be ashamed of themselves. 

You also seem somewhat unattainable and unpredictable to them. But it's not like you do stupid things. It's more like when they think they know you, you say something totally unexpected about yourself. 

You have this great personality inside you. For them to see this side of you may take a while. I am not saying they will hate you but they will be a bit judgemental of you. You seem like the life of the party and like you are an authentic person but you are also such a deep person. However nonchalant you seem, you also have worries. And you have such a strong and a soft person inside you. They will see this eventually and embrace every part of you.

(For some of you this judgment may be because they are a bit more of a reserved person)

your song: take me-miso

significant placements: taurus, 3rd house, uranus leo, 11th house, neptune capricorn, 12th house, mercury

thank you for reading ❤️

#tarot #tarot reading #pac #pick a card #pick a pile #future spouse #future spouse reading #future relationship reading

[talesofesther]

dead channels

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie finds dead channels on a walkie-talkie to vent about his feelings and everything he goes through. One day, you happen to stumble upon his frequency.

A/N: I can't remember where I saw a prompt like this, but I knew that I had to write something about it. I think it's important to say that I know very little about how walkie-talkies work. And yes I went way overboard with this story but I truly loved how it turned out; it's a big one, the biggest one shot I've ever written, but I promise, it's worth it.

Word count: 11k

Masterlist

February 7, 1985

You were annoyed, and Dustin would hear about it for giving you a walkie-talkie without telling you what channel you were supposed to be using.

You paced in your living room, switching the frequencies, finding dead channel after dead channel. For ten minutes the only noise coming from the device in your hands was static.

Until you turned the switch one more time, and the static stopped. You clenched your fist in victory, sitting down on your couch and about to voice your frustrations to your younger friend.

"… I hadn't seen him in four years, man."

To your surprise though, someone on the other end of the connection spoke first.

A deep frown etched itself into your face when you heard the muffled voice. It wasn't one you could recognize, clearly not Dustin's. The words were laced with a distant sizzle, maybe because the person talking was too far from your location or the walkie they were using was too beat up. The tone was quiet too as if spoken without the intention of anyone hearing it.

Against your better judgment and with the help of innocent curiosity, you didn't switch channels.

"I don't know what I was expecting. Shit, I shouldn't have been expecting anything. Uncle Wayne was furious when he walked in on us and saw my bloody nose, he chased him off, yelling for him to never come back, not even caring what he needed the money for. I- I wanted to say something too but… Damnit.."

You heard what you assumed was a sniff before the stranger kept on talking.

"Dad did always make it clear that I was his biggest mistake, guess I just wasn't expecting him to come back and throw it at my face after all these years. Again."

The words were a private confession you weren't supposed to hear. There was no answer for the muffled voice. This person was using what he thought was a long-forgotten channel as some sort of diary, maybe. At least that was your first assumption.

You ran a thumb over the grey plastic of the walkie-talkie on your hands, finger hovering above the switch. Your knee bumping up and down. Should you say something? Should you change frequencies and forget this ever happened?

You changed channels, but not before memorizing the frequency.

February 19, 1985

Almost two weeks went by before you heard the lonely voice on the dead channel again. You told yourself it wasn't creepy to set your walkie-talkie to the channel when you weren't using it.

You stood in front of your kitchen counter, cutting up potatoes for your dinner. The chicken was already heating up and you sneaked tiny pieces of it to your dog when your mom wasn't looking.

The walkie rested on the dining table, you liked to keep it close these days. One never knows when the upside-down might decide to pay a visit.

"So uh, Hellfire has a new member."

You nearly cut your own finger when the static buzzed and, right after, the stranger's voice was invading your house. You turned around, carefully, as if the person knew you were listening in.

"His name's Gareth, seems like a cool guy. Honestly, I'm just happy that we now have enough people for a full campaign, I- I have all of it planned out and I think it's gonna be great, the storyline is thrilling…"

Subconsciously, you found yourself smiling. The kitchen was empty, save for your dog wagging his tail, and you were smiling as if someone had just told you the good news you were waiting for.

You didn't know this person, this was the second time you were hearing his voice, yet the almost childlike excitement that laced his tone today filled your chest with similar joy. A stark contrast to the last time you heard him.

Was it too weird to feel like you were starting to know him?

February 20, 1985

It didn't take long for you to hear from him again, not even a full day had gone by.

You had just gotten home. Throwing your car keys on top of your bed and removing your coat. On the horizon and past houses and trees, the sun was starting to lower itself, you looked at the orange rays through your window, stretching your arms.

You were rummaging through your wardrobe in search of pajamas when you heard it.

"I fucking… this school, man… Jaso-… ruined my da-"

The voice was laced with static and fading in and out of connection, the sound muffled by your backpack. You were in the process of removing your shirt as you raced towards your bag, almost tripping over your discarded sneakers.

Pulling open the zipper, you snatched the walkie and adjusted the antenna.

"… been working on that campaign for weeks man, weeks, and that douchebag just… He- he…"

You sat down on the floor of your bedroom, in nothing but your jeans and a bra; the tone of his voice slicing through your heart and making it bleed. Your eyes were unfocused as you loosely held the device, waiting for the lonely voice.

"Ripped it to pieces and threw it in the mud as if it was nothing. It's not fair. Shit, it's not fair, and I- I wanted to fight back y'know? But…"

You heard a sigh, heavy and tired.

"Yeah I froze, it's not like three against one would be much of a fight anyway."

The static came and the voice was gone. You stayed there, the wooden floor starting to become cold under your knees. Your eyebrows pulled slowly into a frown. Does this person study at Hawkins High? It's not like Hawkins had many options regarding school but still, it left you all the more frustrated that you couldn't pinpoint who it was.

Granted, your only normal year in high school was the first, and you didn't remember much about it. After that, Will went missing, and… Your mind had been a bit numb to the normal days ever since, you wouldn't be surprised if this person was a classmate of yours.

Abril 29, 1985

After a couple of months, you genuinely felt as if you knew this person.

It was odd if you so much as stopped to think about it. He opened his heart to what he thought was an abandoned channel, yet you were always there, listening; but never talking back. You knew his voice by memory, yet he didn't even know there was someone on the other end.

Sometimes — most of the time — there was a pang of nagging guilt at the back of your mind. But you'd usually think to yourself; what if, someday, something happens and he needs someone?

Well, you'd most likely be there, and if anything, the thought made you feel a little better about your curiosity.

The lonely boy on the walkie-talkie became your secret. A secret, for the sole reason, that he also became your comfort. These days your house was mostly always empty. You slept with the device resting on your bedside table. If you closed your eyes forcefully enough, you could almost feel as if he was there with you. He became a constant presence in your day, even when he didn't speak, you knew he was there. Knowing there was someone else out there made you feel less alone.

Sometimes, when the sizzled voice coming from the device was too shaky, laced with tears and sorrow; the guilt made itself more present, you wished you had the courage to speak up. To tell him that you were there too, that you could be there for him if he wanted you to, the same way he involuntarily was there for you.

After a long Thursday, you were sleeping, the rain outside had lulled you to an easy slumber tonight. However, when your bedside clock hit 2:08 AM, a distant voice started pulling you away from dreamland.

The sound was distant to your ears at first, waiting for your body to fully wake up. You opened your drowsy eyes with a frown, looking around your bedroom that was still engulfed in darkness, with only the street lamps making the raindrops on your window shine.

And then you heard the familiar voice again, quiet, molding itself into the night.

Maybe it was a bit foolish of you to leave the walkie on during the night, but these days, you couldn't help yourself.

"… and Wayne found a picture of my mom. He says I have her eyes."

He continued, apparently. You pushed yourself up with your elbows, the covers pooling at your waist. You wondered how much of his monologue you had missed.

"I don't…"

The tears staining his voice were pretty noticeable tonight.

"I don't remember her that well anymore, I wish we'd had more time… Shit."

And that was all. Static, and then he was gone again. It was fast, part of you wishing you hadn't slept at all.

July 4, 1985

You took a deep breath in, bracing yourself for the pain. With one hand grabbing onto the bathroom sink, you draped the antiseptic-covered cloth against the wound in your abdomen.

The paramedics at the mall did a good enough job, but some cuts still needed a bit more attention.

It had been one hell of a week and you barely had time to breathe between being trapped in a Russian elevator, finding a Russian base, being drugged and tortured by said Russians, and for the cherry on top, fighting a human flesh-based giant monster.

You were heavily considering a vacation from Hawkins.

Biting into your lip, you carefully closed the bandage over the wound. The white sink of your bathroom was covered in blood, as were the tip of your fingers and parts of your clothes. Tonight, you thanked the heavens for your mother's busy schedule, providing you with an empty house and plenty of time to clean up the mess.

Steve, the ever-sweet boy, offered to stay with you and help with… whatever you might need. You said you were fine, which, was a lie, but he had enough pain of his own to take care of.

You discarded your shirt to the bathroom floor, looking at your exposed skin in the mirror with a grimace. Long sleeves and sunglasses would be your go-to for a while if you wanted to avoid questions. You were popping open the buttons of your jeans when the crackle and static of the walkie-talkie made you jump. The warm voice of the stranger buzzed through right after.

"Starcourt just burst into flames."

You placed a hand over your racing heart, tightly shutting your eyes before reaching out for the walkie that rested against the tub.

"Yeah it's- it's crazy, the new town mall just burned to a crisp, at least that's what the news is saying. But I don't know man, I was making a deal near there when I heard the ambulances, there were so many of them; I mean, they said a lot of people died, so…"

You sat down on the edge of the tub, holding the walkie tightly between your hands as you listened intently.

"But still, I walked up to see what was happening and the place was filled with cops, army even, and well, ambulances. I had never seen something like that. And the weird thing is that there were some people from school there, Harrington for one, I also saw some kids from middle school and… Y/N was there…"

A chill ran up and down your spine when you heard him say your name. This person, the one you've been listening to in what was supposed to be a dead channel, the one who chased away the cold feeling of loneliness; knew you. Your lips hung open in shock, he said your name with such ease. He saw you there, he recognized you from a distance and under the blinking lights of the ambulances. Your chest constricted around your heart, squeezing tightly up towards your throat. You wanted to know him too.

You felt guilty for not being able to pinpoint who he was. Okay, the sound of a voice through a walkie-talkie is not the best or clearest. Still, if he knew you so easily, he definitely went to the same school as you, had the same classes, walked the same hallways.

Raising a hand, you rubbed your eyes and clawed at your hair. Urging yourself to think of someone, anyone.

"She- I saw her, she was sitting by herself in the back of an ambulance and I think she was crying. I'm not sure but, she looked so beat up, and- and hurt and I was walking, I mean, I was going to walk up to her to see if she was okay but a cop didn't let me. Maybe for the best, would just end up scaring her more I guess. To be honest, I don't know why I'm talking about it, I just felt like… Nevermind."

Scare you?

Your unfocused eyes stared ahead for long seconds. The cold from the tiles seeping through your body because of your bare feet.

One person came to your mind.

You hugged yourself, arm closing around your abdomen, feeling the cold, bruised skin underneath.

You thought of soft and unruly brown curls, tattoos, metal band t-shirts, and leather jackets.

You had never talked with him, shared maybe one class, literature; he rarely said anything then too. You passed by each other in the hallways, and you once caught him watching you in the cafeteria, he had been so flustered when it happened that you found it adorable. You then started shooting him small smiles here and there, and he reciprocated with big ones of his own.

Robin told you about him once. The School's Freak, she said people called him.

______

There was no way for you to be completely sure it was him, it's not like you could walk up to him one day and ask about it.

But you did start paying more attention to him, Eddie. It was hard when you only had him in the same class as yours one time, and other than that, only bumping into each other in the hallways didn't leave much room to observe.

You could walk up to him and talk, he seemed sweet. You didn't have all that courage yet though.

So you kept on listening, and your eyes kept on searching for him in the crowds. A few months went by like that, and you grew attached to someone you had never talked to.

December 6, 1985

Cold wind was raging outside and you were glad to have a working heater in your house. No amount of it felt enough though, as you sat on the carpet in front of the lit fireplace.

Your dog lay beside you, as you annoyed yourself by trying to set up the Christmas tree; it was a bit too big for the flower pot you had at home.

Slowly letting go of the branches, you said a quiet "yes" when the tree didn't topple over.

You started with putting on the blinking lights, turning them on to bathe the room in a multitude of colors. And as you rummaged through the trinkets, your ears caught in with the familiar static;

"So, I felt like setting up a Christmas tree this year. It's in the kitchen and it's not big, but it's there. I- I even bought some lights and there were some ornaments tucked away in a box that I found…"

The walkie was resting on top of your couch and you found yourself yet again smiling alone because of the pure happiness that came from your unusual companion.

"Christmas was never a very… happy holiday for me but, maybe this year will be better."

"I hope it is." You caught yourself answering back quietly, for no one to hear.

January 3, 1986

Winters could be pretty harsh on Hawkins. The break was over and it just so happened to be pouring rain on the first day back to school.

The skies were grey, heavy drops of water hitting the pavement as you turned the wheel into the parking lot. Of course, it was packed with cars, no one wanted to walk when it was raining.

You groaned as you pulled up in one of the farthest spots from school. Closing the zipper of your jacket, you grabbed your backpack and a small yellow umbrella you always had in your car.

The little thing didn't do all that much in keeping the rain from reaching you, with help from the wind, the only part of your body you managed to keep dry was your head. With one hand holding the umbrella and the other a strap of your bag, you took quick steps towards the school; walking forward with purpose when actually you should be paying attention to the puddles and many leaves the wind knocked down last night.

Water splashed around your boots, but before you could even get annoyed at that, your foot was slipping on brown leaves; the motion sent you falling back and you could only think of your backpack being submerged in the puddle.

It never happened though. You closed your eyes bracing for the impact, and instead felt two arms around your waist, your back hitting someone's chest instead.

"Woah hey, careful. That would've been a disaster."

You clutched your sorry excuse of an umbrella, slowly standing up and removing yourself from the embrace that caught you. His voice reverberated through your body in the form of a shiver, making your heart pump blood faster. The tight grip you had on the umbrella was mimicked from the one in your lungs. You couldn't breathe, because you knew that voice.

Turning around, you met the chocolate brown eyes you had been secretly wanting to see this up close for months now.

Eddie looked down at you with the ghost of a smile, he wore a black hoodie to protect himself from the rain; still, some droplets of water clung to his hair and eyelashes, shining.

And your silence must have sent him the wrong message because he stuffed his hands in the hoodie's pocket and took a few steps away from you.

He cleared his throat, eyes moving to look at something over your shoulder. "Yeah, sorry. I just didn't want you to fall, didn't mean to overstep or anything."

You internally kicked yourself multiple times for being a weirdo. "No, you didn't overstep, at all. uh- thank you." You breathed, managing a reassuring smile. "Really, you saved me from a massive embarrassment and from being cold all day."

You quickly maneuvered your umbrella to cover both of you, moving to stand beside Eddie. "Come on, let's get out of this rain."

Eddie's cheeks flushed pink at the unusual kindness. He walked side by side with you, bodies close under the yellow umbrella. Butterflies fluttered inside his stomach because he finally talked to the girl who held his heart's affection.

Once inside the school, Eddie headed to his art class whilst you walked to your science one. He waved a shy goodbye at you and that was it.

Even if you tried, you couldn't possibly concentrate on what the teacher was saying or the notes you were supposed to be taking. Eddie Munson was the lonely stranger who had been keeping you company over the last year. Seeing the clear picture now, you were frustrated for not putting two and two together sooner.

You were fidgeting with the pencil on your hands, biting your tongue until you almost tasted blood because now the person who spoke over the static of the walkie was suddenly so real, so tangible. And if anything, knowing it was Eddie only made your heart swell harder for him.

January 23, 1986

Friday nights were your nights, the time you always gave yourself to simply relax. You'd pick up a movie at Family Video, taking the opportunity to hang out with Robin and Steve at their new place of work for a while; then get home and change into your most comfortable pajamas, make some popcorn, and lunge on the couch. Just as you are now.

You lazily stroked your dog's fur, who was passed out beside you. The lights were off and the only thing illuminating your face where the images on the TV.

Last time you checked it was around 8 PM, but after a long week, your eyes slowly started to drop with tiredness. That is until the walkie-talkie inside your backpack started buzzing with the familiar static, and you were suddenly more awake than ever.

You scrambled to grab it, quickly raising the antenna before throwing yourself onto the couch again. You lowered the volume of the TV, waiting.

You heard a pained grunt first and then;

"Jesus man, they got me good today. Ugh shit- I feel like a truck ran me over or something."

Concern etched itself into your face instantly, you grabbed your blanket closer to yourself, praying for some kind of elaboration from Eddie.

Eddie. It still felt so foreign to have a name for the lonely voice now.

"I should- I should be used to it by now but… I just want it to stop. Whatever man, I'll just strap a band-aid to it and sleep it off."

"No, no, no. Don't do that." You mumbled to yourself. You ran a hand through your hair, stomach twisting in anxiousness. Running over every possible scenario in your head, even with most of them Eddie hating you in the end, you decided that you wouldn't leave him alone today.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you were about to do, crossing your fingers for it to not be a mistake.

You pushed the button on the walkie. "You should clean the cut first."

Silence, there was silence for a long time. His voice was smaller when he spoke again, hesitant.

"I- I'm sorry I thought this was a dead channel… No one ever answered, I'm- I didn't mean to.."

"It's okay," you closed your eyes, interrupting him. "It was a dead channel, I think; I just stumbled upon it a while ago — not long, promise — and I heard you, and, I don't know it felt like you could use some company I guess. But then, I- I never really said anything."

You bit your lip, nerves making you tap your knee incessantly. "I sort of just, hung around in case you… I wasn't listening like a creep or something just- I'll switch channels in a minute okay? I just need to know, are you hurt?"

You let go of the button and groaned audibly, facepalming because of your own words.

"A little, yeah."

His quiet voice was a relief, part of you expected him to leave you hanging. You leaned back on your couch. "Okay, uh listen, if it's a cut, you need to clean it up, if you don't have antiseptics just use water. And if it's just a small one, it's best to leave it open, so it can heal on its own."

"You have a lot of experience with this stuff?"

You smiled. "Yeah, you could say that."

Eddie was surprisingly chill about your whole predicament. You walked him through patching himself up. From what he told you it wasn't that bad, just a few punches here and there that would leave him sore for a few days. It still made you feel sick to your stomach though.

Talking with him was easy, the way his voice addressed you made you smile. About an hour had passed when you deemed he was taken care of.

"Hey, I'm sorry for never telling you there was someone else on this channel. It was a shitty move, I just never managed the courage to speak up I guess." You told him before ending the call. "But I promise I'll never switch to it again."

You held the walkie between both your hands, the movie on your TV had long since been over.

"It's okay. Anyone could've found this random frequency, I'm glad it was you. I uh- usually change them, from time to time. But this one was always silent, so I figured I'd stay."

Picking at a loose strand from your blanket, you pressed the button again. "I'm sorry." You mumbled again. "It was never my intention to intrude. Just so you know, I wasn't always listening, to you, I mean… Sometimes it happened but, like I said I thought that maybe one day you might need someone to talk to or something."

Eddie must have heard the worry in your tone because his next words calmed you;

"You don't need to apologize, it's okay. To be honest I don't know why I started doing… this. I guess I just wanted to pretend like someone cared to listen to my whining. It feels- it feels nice to hear a voice answering back for a change. You don't need to leave."

And so you stayed.

______

The routine that you both created was different, to say the least. You didn't realize how much you were dreading having to leave his channel on the walkie until he said you could stay and you felt the weight being lifted from your shoulders.

Now, you were actually talking to each other. You felt like a thirteen-year-old with her first crush each time you heard Eddie's shy voice calling out for you over the walkie-talkie. He was always hesitant, always a bit too quiet in the beginning. But he seemed to enjoy the company just as much as you did.

You saw him at school every day, sharing nothing more than a few 'good mornings' here and there. Maybe he knew it was you who he talked to on the supposedly dead channel. Maybe he suspected it could be you, just like you did in the beginning. Either way, he never asked.

And you didn't either. It was a silent mutual understanding that names didn't need to be exchanged. You knew he felt more comfortable this way, after all, he was sharing his heart out with what he thought was no one before you spoke up.

You let Eddie set the pace, this was his safe space. When he felt ready to talk in person or ask about you, you'd be there.

February 4, 1986

"Come on guys it's no fun if you just stay sitting there," Max complained, before dropping her skate to the ground and making her way to the ramps.

You and Steve sat on a blanket under a big willow tree, one of the few shadows surrounding the skate park. The day was sunny and the place was filled with teens.

"Alright, I think I'll go then." Steve got up, stretching his limbs and picking up the rollerblades. "You coming?" He turned to you.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute." You smiled at him. He shot you a smile back before making his way to the cement slopes in the park.

You closed your eyes, breathing in the fresh air of the trees around you.

"Hey, um, you- you there?"

Hearing the sizzled voice coming from the walkie near your backpack, you stretched an arm to grab it; pulling the antenna up and pressing the button. "Hi, yeah, I'm here."

"Cool, is this like, a good time, am I interrupting something?"

You smiled with Eddie's voice, your eyes following Steve's wobbly movements on his rollerblades. You laughed when Max had to rush to him so he wouldn't fall.

"No, it's perfect," You told Eddie.

That was the day you held your first normal conversation with him. He had called just for that, to talk; and your heart just about melted. You told him where you were, told him how a friend of yours was kinda bad at skating and the younger one was a pro. And Eddie told you about going to lunch with his uncle, how the man sometimes was the dad he never had.

March 12, 1986

"And then he just ran over the living room, dragging mud everywhere. God, I was so mad." You giggled, laying down on your bed and holding the walkie over the pillow next to yours.

A soft static came and Eddie's voice followed. You heard his laugh first, making your smile widen.

"I can imagine the mess. But it's so cool that you have a dog, man. I've always wanted a cat, or a dog too."

You turned around, eyes fixed on the pillow beside you, a tiny part of you hoped to see Eddie staring back at you. Outside your window, you caught a glimpse of the evening sun, orange and pink rays announcing its departure for the day. "Yeah, he's good company. Makes me laugh even if I get mad first."

Silence followed after. You closed your eyes, conjuring up an image of Eddie raking his mind over what to say next. It was cheesy. You didn't care.

"You know, I- I've been learning a new song, I play guitar, and I've been learning this new song. It's pretty sick, it's not perfect yet but… Do you- do you wanna hear it?"

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, breathing out a chuckle. Your heartbeat was drumming against your ribcage, happy that he was slowly becoming comfortable enough to share more things with you. "I would love to."

"Okay, here goes…"

You could hear the smile on his words, and as he started strumming the cords on his guitar, you decided that you loved hearing him play.

March 22, 1986

You'd never wanted this to be the way for you to see him again.

After calling a bunch of people and searching up every Rick in town just to find Eddie, then finally getting a hold of him in a secluded house at Lover's Lake and sort of filling him in about what was potentially happening; your friends were now deciding how to continue.

"Are we just gonna leave him here?"

"I mean it's not like we can walk around town with him."

"Then we can, I don't know, stop at a market by morning and bring him some food."

Dustin, Steve, and Robin talked amongst themselves, their faces illuminated by flashlights and the moonlight seeping through the shack's windows. You were leaning against the iron wall in the far corner, gaze trained on the swaying boat but not really focused.

To put it lightly, things went to shit. The upside-down was showing its claws again, but your main concern is that Eddie was being accused of murder.

Slowly, your gaze found him, and the mere sight tore your heart into two. He was slumped down in the opposite corner of the small shack, hugging his knees to his chest and shaking violently; his cheeks had tear tracks on them, no doubt his mind was reliving what he went through.

You wanted to go to him. Hug him close and tell him everything would be okay. But things weren't so simple. Until now, you still hadn't spoken to him in person again. You didn't know where boundaries started or ended.

"Okay, it's settled then." Steve decided. "Hey man, we're gonna bring you something to eat by morning yeah? Until then just… Try and get some rest." He addressed Eddie, who could only look at him.

One by one, your friends exited the fishing shack, walking out into the night, your gaze switched between the door and Eddie's small figure against the wall. You took slow steps to the door but stopped by the threshold.

"Steve," you called for your friend, hand resting on the doorway, "I think I'm gonna stay too, it's not good for him to be alone."

Steve walked back to you with a frown, his sneakers crushing the leaves underneath. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, reaching out a hand to squeeze his. "Yeah it's alright, I don't want him alone."

The look in your eyes didn't leave much room to argue. Steve left with a reassuring smile and the promise of food by morning.

As the car sped off in the distance, you closed the door behind you and turned to Eddie. He hadn't moved, his eyes were clouded with dread.

You took careful steps towards him, wincing at how the old wooden floor screeched beneath your feet. You moved to sit down in front of him, leaning your back on some wooden crates.

"You didn't have to stay." Eddie forced out, with a quiet tone that broke in the middle. His gentle brown eyes were glistening under the fading moonlight.

Gulping down a lump in your throat, you managed a smile. "I wanted to."

Eddie's gaze drifted from yours, the curl on his lips was bittersweet. "It's you, isn't it? Who- who I've been talking to."

You could hear your own heartbeat. "Yeah." You breathed out.

Eddie bounced once in his seat, leaning forward with a real smile. "I knew it!"

His excitement made you chuckle. You thought about how this would happen, you never imagined it this way though. Yet somehow, sitting with him in an old fishing shack in the dead of night while hiding from authorities, felt weirdly right.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything before, I just didn't want to…" You trailed off.

"Mess it up?" Eddie finished for you and you nodded.

He picked at a loose thread on the rip of his jeans. "Yeah, me neither. I mean, I had a feeling, that it was you, I thought your voice was familiar but… I never had the balls to ask."

Eddie looked up at you then, pupils blown as he took you in. You, the person who became his safe space. The one who could take his breath away with just a simple 'hello'.

Since the first time you shot him a dazzling smile at school his heart had been entranced with you. People rarely spared him the time of day, yet you graced him with a genuine smile every day. And Eddie wholeheartedly meant it the day he said he was glad it was you who found his channel on the walkie.

Back then he didn't know how much he was hurting, aching for someone that would care about him, about listening to him. And that day, when your voice came through the once dead channel, his lungs took a deep breath of fresh air after weeks, months of drowning in murky waters, alone.

Eddie counted the minutes to your conversations each day, it was the best part of his day, the one he looked forward to the most. Talking with you was easy, he became addicted fast, and fell even faster.

You decided that it wouldn't be a problem for you both to sleep inside Rick's house, it's not like anyone would come looking, and sleeping on hard wood or inside a boat was less than ideal.

The house was a mess inside, looking like it had been abandoned for some time. Dust covered the surfaces, most things being out of place and haphazardly thrown around. You searched around for rooms with Eddie close behind you.

There were two bedrooms, you stood in the hallway between both doors. "I can take this one and you take the other?" You pointed to one of the rooms.

Eddie nodded hesitantly, he was fidgeting with his rings, uneasy. You could tell something was bothering him, and you had a feeling about what it was. "Or, we could just take the same room."

"Yeah," Eddie let out a relieved sigh instantly, "please." He was dreading the feeling of being alone. Even if you were in the other room, it was too far.

You both removed shoes and unnecessary layers of clothing, laying down on the bed with a reasonable distance between you. The bed smelled… old, like it hasn't been used in some time, but it looked clean.

Eddie was as stiff as a rock beside you, even not touching him you could feel it. You turned to him, adjusting the covers over you. "Try to relax Eddie, you need to rest."

He breathed out, lower lip wobbling with the motion before he turned to you as well. Eddie clutched the covers closer to his chest, a cheap attempt at seeking some kind of comfort. "You know I didn't do it, right?" He tentatively raised his gaze to yours after he spoke, barely being able to make out your face in the darkness of the room.

You frowned, for a split second wondering what he was talking about until the worry in his voice caught up to you. "Of course I do. Eddie, I- I know you, and I know you would never hurt anyone. It's just not who you are. You're good." In a bold move, you reached out and took his hand in yours, squeezing and running your thumb over his knuckles.

Eddie felt his whole body filling with goosebumps at your touch, air getting stuck on his throat as he savored the feeling. He scooted closer to you, only a little, and didn't let go of your hand through the whole night.

March 24, 1986

After Max figured out she was most likely next on Vecna's list, you had to leave Eddie's side to help your friends.

Steve's car was waiting on the side of the road for you to get in, a breeze was flowing through the grey sky, rustling green and brown leaves.

You put on your jacket and prepared to leave Eddie's hiding place, walking to the front door of the neglected house, with Eddie right behind you. You turned to him before you walked outside. "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

Eddie stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around the house. "Yeah, I don't think anyone will come looking here. Plus, your friends need you."

"You're my friend too." You told him quietly, tilting your head as your eyes remained on him.

Gentle brown eyes found yours, Eddie pursed his lips before taking half a step towards you. He was about to reach out for you but hesitated, clearing his throat awkwardly before lifting a hand to the back of his neck and extending the other for you to shake.

His attempt at pretending he wasn't about to give you a hug made you giggle. You closed the gap between you with a smile, pulling Eddie to you and holding on tightly.

His arms went instantly around your waist and he lowered his head against your shoulder. "Be safe, yeah?"

After being separated from Eddie; Nancy, Robin and you took a trip to Pennhurst, managing to speak with Victor Creel just in time to save Max's life.

March 25, 1986

Between saving Max and finding Victor's abandoned house, only now do you and your friends have time to check up on Eddie.

Your knee was bouncing incessantly the whole car ride there, your stomach was twisting with a weird bad feeling like something wasn't right. And sure enough, when you finally arrived at Rick's old house, it was surrounded by cops, nosy civilians, and the town's reporters. Yellow tapes blocked the access to the area and you just about felt your heart dropping to your ass at the sight; surely going a few shades paler at the thought of anyone finding Eddie.

Luckily, he seemed to have gotten away. Your fists balled in anger when you heard the chief of police making Eddie's name public as the prime suspect of the damned murders.

"Dustin? Can you hear me? Y/N?"

You had never been so relieved to hear Eddie's voice through the familiar crackle and static of the walkie-talkie. Before Dustin could even think of answering, you were already snatching the walkie from his backpack and taking a few steps away from the crowd to answer.

"Eddie? Thank god, you almost gave me a heart attack, are you okay?"

From the other end of the frequency, crouching under a massive rock in the middle of the woods, Eddie dropped his forehead against the walkie held between his shaky hands; a single tear escaping his eye.

"Not really, sweetheart. But shit, it's so good to hear your voice through this thing again, you have no idea."

You smiled, tension leaving your body in waves for the very same reason. "Where are you? I'll come find you."

"Skull rock, you know it?"

"I know where it is," Steve told you, all of you already making a beeline for the car.

The woods you were walking through to find Skull rock were dense, everywhere you looked sort of seemed to be the same place and you could only pray that Steve and Dustin knew where they were headed.

All you could think about was finding Eddie, making sure he was okay, and then never leaving his side again. Leaves and branches crushed beneath your sneakers, Robin and Nancy spoke softly behind you, their voices mixing with the birds singing around the forest. Despite the situation, you found yourself smiling because of the unlikely bond you had formed with the long-haired boy.

Steve squeezed his way past dense bushes with a huge grin, revealing the giant rock. "There she is Henderson, Skull rock. In your face man." He said happily, apparently winning whatever discussion he'd been having with Dustin.

"Doesn't make sense," Dustin said beside you, making you turn your head to him with a soft frown.

"Yeah, even with it staring you right in the face, you can't admit it. You just can't admit that you're wrong, you little butthead." Steve shrugged, lightly mocking the teen.

A loud thud came from behind you, then. Making you jump on the spot and quickly whip your head around.

"I concur, you Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead." Eddie took a deep breath in, hands resting on his hips.

Your lips turned up with a relieved smile, you didn't waste a second before walking the remaining steps towards him. You pulled Eddie to you with a stronger grip than before, closing your eyes to just feel him, there and safe.

"I was so worried, thought they got you." You mumbled against him.

Eddie held you back with the same intensity, one hand running up your spine and to your shoulder blades. "Yeah me too, sweetheart." He squeezed a little tighter, basking in the feeling of comfort only you can give him.

______

You could safely say that being in the upside-down was not on your bucket list. Yet here you were, swinging oars at cursed bats that decided to feast on Steve's torso. The sight was nightmarish, it was your Hawkins, only much darker, with a never-ending red storm in the sky, dust particles that made it hard to breathe, and gross vines crawling everywhere.

And only after — sort of — winning the fight against the bats and losing the creatures with help of the forest; that you finally felt the nagging pain in your leg.

You were walking beside Eddie, who was still freaked out. Steve, Nancy, and Robin just a step ahead amidst the looming trees. It started with just a distant pain that had you limping, then you felt wetness running down your ankle and soon enough you were light-headed, some trees doubling themselves in your vision.

You didn't register you were falling until Eddie was scrambling to catch you.

"Y/N? Shit, don't do this to me. What happened?" He was already on edge and right now it'd be safe to say he was on the verge of panic. He had both arms under yours, maneuvering you to sit on the ground with your back against his chest.

His voice alerted the others, who came running back.

Nancy crouched in front of you, concern evident on her face as she checked for injuries. "I think she was bitten on her leg."

She lifted your jeans slowly, causing you to groan with the sharp pain shooting up and down your leg. You could feel Eddie squeezing your hand, his chin coming down to rest on your shoulder as you heard his soft voice telling you you'd be okay.

Using Eddie's bandana, Nancy managed a tourniquet around your leg. The bleeding ceased to a minimum, and you allowed yourselves at least five minutes to breathe given that you and Steve had been hurt pretty badly.

Eddie rested his back against a nearby tree, and even if you asked, you didn't think he'd let you go. So you remained in his arms, comfortably resting back onto his warm chest.

He had his arms wound around your abdomen, grip never wavering. You brought a hand over his, brushing over his knuckles.

You felt him tense momentarily behind you, then he started lazily playing with your fingers. "Getting back at me for making you worry earlier?"

A chuckle escaped you, leaning your head back on his shoulder. "Something like that, yeah."

Several heartbeats passed before you felt Eddie turning his head, his lips grazed your hairline. "I can't lose you, man. I just- can't."

His voice came out quiet and broken, if you weren't literally feeling his breath against your ear, you wouldn't have heard. Goosebumps filled your body, you grasped his hand in yours.

"You won't." You promised.

March 26, 1986

It was almost bittersweet, the momentary peacefulness of the green fields, when you knew what you would be heading into soon. The place was gorgeous, a hidden treasure maybe. The blue of the sky contrasts with the endless grass plains, with numerous trees surrounding the clearing.

You sat by the trailer Eddie and Steve stole, preparing molotovs with Robin. You opened one of the bottles, pushed the cloth inside, and heard a familiar laugh in the distance; looking up, you saw Eddie wrestling with Dustin, both boys running around on the green field with smiles on their faces.

"How's your leg?"

Robin's voice from beside you made you aware of your own smile. You tried to hide it, focusing back on your task, but not before stealing a last glance towards Eddie. "It's better. Bothering a little but nothing I can't handle."

When Robin didn't answer, you glanced up to meet her eyes. She had a shit-eating grin on her face, making you raise an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You two are adorable, y'know?" Robin mused, smile persistent as she put another finished molotov to the side.

"We're friends, Robin." You grumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Oh yeah, you totally are."

From far away, Eddie swung his newly made shield around, with an excited bounce on his feet. "Hit me, Henderson."

Dustin jabbed the makeshift spear into Eddie's shield, both of them smiling when both weapons held up well.

Twirling the spear in his hands, Dustin rolled his eyes when he noticed Eddie sneaking a glance towards the stolen trailer for the thousandth time. "When were you going to tell me about her anyway?"

Eddie's head snapped towards Dustin, and he straightened in his stance, both hands holding the shield to his chest. "What are you talking about, man?"

Dustin spread his arms and pointedly raised his eyebrows as if to say 'seriously?'; "you and Y/N obviously, when did that happen and why am I always the last one to know?"

"There's nothing to know and nothing to tell, alright? We're just friends." Eddie told him nervously, pushing away strands of hair that the wind had brought to his eyes. "She deserves much better anyway." He grumbled to himself.

The incredulous look on Dustin's face would have been comical if he hadn't all but shouted his next words; "spare me, dude, everyone can see it, you like each-"

"Jesus christ, shut it Henderson." Eddie sprinted towards him, shield pointed at the boy who had no other option than to stop talking and defend himself.

______

The moment you crossed the portal back to your Hawkins, and Eddie hesitated, you could swear you felt your heart freezing in your chest. Before he even cut the rope, you were already begging him not to do it.

The makeshift rope fell on your hands and he might as well have plunged the spear right into your heart. Eddie was looking up at you from the upside-down and your throat was already closing with dread, you were screaming at him, words you couldn't even remember. When he walked away from the portal with the promise to come back, for the first time, you didn't believe him.

Everything had happened in a haze, you told Dustin to not dare move as you managed a way up and back through the portal. The wounds on your leg were stinging with each of your movements, more so as you hit the ground on the cursed side of Hawkins.

Your pain hadn't been a concern then, the sole thing on your mind was to find Eddie. You had thrown open the trailer door and ran out into the upside-down world as fast as your legs could carry you, not stopping once, sneakers thudding against the grey ground.

When you saw the swarm of bats circling only one spot, in a hurricane-like manner, hundreds of them going from the ground and up to the sky; you knew Eddie was there, in the eye of the storm. With no regard for your own safety, air stuck in your lungs in a mix of fear and adrenaline, you ran to him.

You could remember the particles in the atmosphere clouding your throat, the blood flowing down your leg.

You had found him there then, tears collecting on the bottom lid of your eyes. You didn't stop though. Eddie was on the ground, with the tail of one of the bats around his neck and a few others trying to claw at his abdomen.

What lasted about five seconds felt like an eternity. You had spotted Eddie's spear, grasping it tightly in your hands and slicing the bat's tail clean off its body, aiming for the ones attacking Eddie next.

When Eddie stumbled up beside you, wobbly on his feet but still standing, shield in his hands; you had already felt a faint relief.

Not even a minute after, all the bats surrounding you were falling from the sky as some sick resemblance of rain. Dead. You thanked whoever did it. Dropping down to your knees — to catch the first real huff of breath ever since the rope had fallen heavily in your hands — you looked Eddie over, who had also been breathing heavily beside you. He was hurt, yes; a few bites and scratches here and there, but he was okay. No air seemed to be enough for you though, almost like the beginnings of a panic attack that you tried to chase away.

Eddie had extended a hand to you, you had seen the worry in his eyes that no doubt were mimicking yours.

And that had been the last look you gave him. You had pushed his hand away weakly, standing up on your own, with legs that almost didn't have enough strength to carry you. Your chest was going up and down with difficulty. You had dropped the spear to the ground with a thud, slowly limping back to the portal on the trailer. Eddie followed, you didn't look at him.

Now — after Steve, Nancy and Robin had found their way back through the portal as well, and you all but collapsed into Steve's arms because your body had simply given up — you sat on the couch at the back of the stolen trailer. Steve was driving, telling everyone all about the fight with Vecna, Nancy sat on the passenger's seat and Robin sat with Dustin near the front, along with Max, Lucas, and Erica after you picked them up.

And Eddie, given his home still sported a portal — a slowly retreating one, but it was still there — sat beside you. You put a distance between you both though, pressing yourself against the end of the couch and looking out the window.

You could feel the way his eyes hardly left you, most likely wondering why you were so quiet. Thing is, you couldn't bring yourself to look at Eddie, or talk to him. Anger was bubbling inside you because of what he did, because of how reckless his actions were. You knew the raw fear was lingering too, however.

"Hey guys, where should I drop you off?" Steve looked at you through the rearview mirror.

"I'll go to uh-" Eddie started, but you spoke over him.

"My house, he's coming with me."

"Yeah that- that's exactly what I was going to say." Eddie agreed quickly, his hands incessantly fidgeting with the hem of his green vest.

Your house arrived quickly, you said goodbye to your friends with a tight hug to each of them, making them promise to take care of themselves whilst they made you do the same.

The night was cold as you slowly limped your way up the stone path that lead to your front door. The lights on the house were turned off, you weren't surprised. It was late, you didn't know how late but the whole town seemed to be asleep already, unaware of the evil that had once again been defeated just minutes ago.

Eddie walked close behind you, one hand lingering against his stomach as the other stayed ready to catch you if you stumbled.

You hadn't bothered to lock your front door and for once you were happy about it, your guard dog came running to greet you, making a beeline for the stranger behind you.

"Hello to you too." You grumbled to your dog and turned on the lights in the living room.

"Oh, it's your dog, hey dude." Despite his wounds, Eddie was happy to crouch down and shower your dog with pats. Huge smile on his face as he bit his lower lip, fingers disappearing amongst the fur.

From your place in the hallway, you stole a glance at them. Instantly, tears were prickling at the back of your eyes.

Shaking your head, you walked to your bathroom. Turning on the lights, you winced at how the white tiles reflected the brightness. Bracing yourself on the sink counter, you met your own eyes in the mirror. To say you look awful would be a massive understatement. You had a rather big cut on your cheek that you didn't even know was there before now, droplets of blood and dust covered a good part of your skin, your hair all over the place, and not even counting how your whole body was complaining in pain.

You definitely needed a vacation.

Eddie slowly appeared behind you, brown eyes finally being able to find yours through the mirror. You saw how his hand reached out for you, and how he pulled it back before he could touch you.

"Are you- are you okay?"

And his voice was so gentle, so soft that you wanted to grab him and not let go, ever. You closed your eyes, lowering your head with a sigh and gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles turned white.

Eddie shuffled, now standing beside you. He was confused, worried. His body was screaming at him to just hold you, but now, he was afraid of overstepping. "Are we just… not gonna talk?"

"Just sit down." You told him, voice steady.

He nodded, gulping down his feelings as he sat on the edge of the tub and you grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink.

You opened the small box, rummaging through mainly for antiseptics and bandages. You silently motioned for him to take off his shirt.

Eddie tried to do it on his own, but when the movement of raising up his arms elicited more than one pained grunt from him, you stepped in, carefully lifting his shirt above his head.

Seeing the gashes on his skin got your breath stuck in a massive lump in your throat. It wasn't too bad, but there was still blood and he was still hurt. In the back of your mind, you thought about the first time you answered him on the walkie.

"We can count this as progress right?" Eddie tried, a tender smile gracing his lips, his eyes looking up at you with blown pupils. "Last time you were giving me instructions, now you get to do it yourself." Apparently, he remembered it too.

His words made the tiniest smile come to you, which made his only get bigger.

You treated Eddie's wounds with the utmost care. Cleaning them up the best you could and closing the bigger gaps with white bandages that would soon be painted a slight red.

You didn't notice the unsteadiness of your hands, how they shook over his wounds; or the permanent frown on your eyebrows, or the lone tear that escaped your eye and slid down your cheek when Eddie hissed when you touched a particularly sensitive spot on his skin.

Eddie noticed.

Leaving the small cut on his jaw for last, you crouched in front of him, biting the inside of your cheek and raising a hand to clean his face.

Eddie's gaze was heavy, dark eyes fixated on you. You could see the turmoil going on inside his head.

He winced slightly when the wet cloth made contact with his skin, you mumbled an apology. Being so concentrated on what you were doing, you jumped a little when you felt his fingers gently grazing your cheek, over the dried tear track.

A shaky exhale passed through your nose, you met his eyes and saw they were glistening under the bathroom lights; swimming in the feelings he kept guarded inside his chest.

"Talk to me sweetheart, what's wrong?" Eddie asked tentatively, dry lips hanging open, waiting for an answer that never came. "Please." He tried again, quieter.

As much as you might want to, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You let your hand fall to your lap, avoiding his eyes, you were basically sitting on the floor now.

Eddie pushed a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes roamed your face for a minute and then he was standing up and left the bathroom.

You frowned, but didn't follow after him. You heard as he walked back, your back was still turned to the door and you focused on the sound of his movements.

Eddie sat down against the wall to your right, hissing sharply at the cold tiles, his knees tucked close to his chest. Wordlessly, he reached out and gently dropped the walkie-talkie on your lap, before hugging his knees with one hand, the other holding onto his own walkie.

The grey device on your hands was nothing but a blur through your tears.

You heard the familiar crackle and static. You almost broke down then and there.

"I know you don't wanna talk right now, at least not with me. I just hope you know that I'm here, and I'm- I'm gonna be here whenever you feel ready."

You heard his voice, both from the walkie and from right beside you.

"And… I also hope you know that you're like, the most important person in my life, I think you don't even know how much you've helped me. You're the one thing that takes my mind off of all the bullshit this town has thrown at me… Shit, you make me happy, and maybe you're much more than anything I'd ever deserve; but I'm here for you too, so if you could just- just give me a sign that you're okay, I'll give you peace, or space, or whatever you need. I just need to know if you're okay, please."

Eddie finished, voice growing quieter by the end. He let go of the button on his walkie, making the device sizzle with static.

The tears in your eyes were on the brink of spilling over, chest impossibly tighter. You chanced a glance to the side, to him.

Some tears clung to Eddie's eyelashes, and a few others made their way down, collecting on the end of his chin or stopping at the corner of his lips. His eyes were pleading, burning a hole through your soul.

Running your tongue over your lips, you carefully raised the walkie to your lips. You pressed the button, hesitating only a split second.

"I'm okay, as… okay as one can be after that, but…" You started slowly, each word following a beat of your heart. "Damn it, Eddie, I thought I lost you."

Throwing away the walkie-talkie, you turned your body to him. "Do you have any idea, of the panic I felt when you cut that damn rope? What were you even thinking?"

Eddie put down his own walkie, opening his mouth to answer. You didn't let him;

"It was so- reckless." You uttered out shakily, running a hand through your hair, brows scrunched in anger. "I mean you- you could have fucking died for those damn things if I hadn't gotten there in time, and for what? A little extra time?"

You didn't register you were crying, you didn't register the sobs; and when Eddie reached a hand out for you, you slapped it away. "You don't get to tell me to be careful, or- or say that you can't lose me when you do stuff like that. This goes both ways for fucks sake." Your tone was louder, wobbly, mixed with sobs and tears as you groaned in frustration and hastily wiped your cheeks.

You only noticed that Eddie had successfully managed to grab you when you were pressed against his warm chest. Your head tucked against his neck as both his arms closed around you tightly. Both your legs became a mess of tangled limbs, Eddie lowered his lips to the crown of your head, squeezing you to him and mumbling countless "I'm sorry" and "I'm here" and "it's okay".

His skin was warm under your hands. Your ear, resting just above his heart, allowed you to hear the constant thudding; the reassuring sound slowly but surely calming your trembling body and ragged breathing.

"I never wanted to hurt you. Promise." Eddie spoke against your skin, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your body. "I- when I saw the bats, breaking through the door, all I cared about was keeping you safe. I knew I had to draw them away from you and Dustin. Maybe it was selfish but, I couldn't risk them getting through that thing to reach you."

Shaking your head, you pulled away only enough to look at him. Finally being able to take him in, he was just as much of a mess as you were. The sight made you chuckle.

Eddie felt his heart bursting with warmth at the sound of your laugh, a small smile coming to him as well.

You reached up, thumb carefully tracing the outline of his lower lip, engraving the image of him to your heart forever. He leaned towards your touch. You almost kissed him.

"Just, please promise me you won't do anything this reckless ever again."

Eddie hummed, his hands around your waist tentatively pulling you towards him. "For you, I'd do it again in a heartbeat." His words held a playful tone, accompanied by a cheeky grin. They also held the truth.

"And I'd go after you in a heartbeat." You raised an eyebrow at him, your hand burying in his hair.

"Good, then we got each other's backs on our reckless decisions," Eddie mumbled, his breath ghosting over your lips.

He glanced down to your lips with a silent question, a plea. You answered by closing the gap between you, both hands cradling the back of his head and pulling him to you desperately, urging for closeness.

Here, with your body flush to Eddie's, his lips mapping yours in a motion of love; you couldn't be happier for having stumbled upon him on that dead channel.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this story. It was one that took weeks of writing, rewriting, and editing, so feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated so I can keep bringing you these stories. <3

Eddie’s taglist: @alicefallsintotherabbithole @boooil @science--hoes @cherrypieyourface @tssf-imagines @daph-505 @astream-ofconsciousness @fentyreligion @fantasylovestoryme @justabeautiful-letdown @crazyrapunzel @yessica41 @dancing-hillary @bakugouswh0r3 @hehehehannahthings @jakebasement @zervopoulouu @forverdaydreamer-blog @fromthedt @oeuryale @mcueveryday @palah @witchbinchstories

@call-me-magpie @loveshineslikethesky @luvmybbies @tvserie-s-world @agirlsguidetolove @hallothankmas @ribyourtoplip @sweetpeapod @harringt8ns @forsaken-letters @hazydespair @fangirling-4-ever @electric-cabaret @ollyoxenfrees @linkpk88 @twinkofmydreams @paola-carter @masterlistmanic @xceafh

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #eddie munson x you #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddiemunsonedit #joseph quinn #stranger things x reader #st #my story

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript under the cut:

Iris: You’re the one who made a big fuss about not being able to get a hold of me. You wanted to talk, so I’m here. Asher: I figured you’d be pissed at me after the other night. Iris: I was, at first. Asher: Not anymore? Iris: No, not anymore. Asher: Good. What’s gonna happen to him? Iris: [shrugs] He was still on probation, so I don’t know… He has a hearing scheduled next week, but I doubt it’ll go well.

Asher: Are you doing okay? Iris: Yeah, I don’t know. I’m fine. Asher: If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth? Iris: Sure. Asher: Why was James there that night? He wasn’t scheduled that day, and it was too late to see Spencer anyway.   Iris: I don’t know. Just to talk or hang out, probably. Asher: Were you seeing him again? Iris: [hesitates] Yes.

Asher: Did he hurt you? Iris: No. Asher: You said you’d tell the truth. Iris: What makes you think I’m not? Asher: Dawn told me about the bruises on your wrist. Iris: She what? That bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about! She needs to keep her nose out of my fucking business!

Asher: HEY! If you’re gonna act like that, you can leave. Iris: [scoffs] She’s just pissed because I said a home birth was higher risk than a hospital. Asher: Why would you do that? Iris: Because it’s true. Look it up, the odds of the baby dying are higher— Asher: Oh my god, Iris. Did you say that to her?

Iris: What? She didn’t tell you? Asher: No. Surprise surprise, she didn’t call me to talk shit about you. She was just concerned. Iris: Oh. Look, I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was just saying, there are things she should probably consider. I don’t know what the big deal is. Asher: You don’t know what the big deal is? I swear, Iris, you are the least self-aware person I’ve ever known. Iris: [rolls her eyes] Whatever.

Asher: Fucking Christ. First of all, I can tell that your attitude was more judgmental than anything else, so don’t act like you were looking out for her. Second, it’s not your place to be second-guessing her decisions when you haven’t even bothered to get to know her. And third, you never know what people have been through, so you should really learn to have a little more tact.

Iris: I really think you’re overreacting. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and I have enough shit to deal with. I don’t need you lecturing me about fucking tact. Asher: I’m overreacting? Iris: Yeah. Asher: Did you know they lost their first baby? Iris: I—No. How was I supposed to know that?

Asher: Exactly. You don’t even know her. You just make assumptions and run your mouth without ever thinking about how it might affect someone else. Iris: Okay. I’m sorry. Asher: I’m not the one you owe an apology to. Iris: …

Asher: [sighs] I think you should leave. Iris: Wha—Ash. Asher: I love you, but I can’t talk to you right now. Just go. Iris: Fine.

Atlas: Ash! Guess what!

Atlas: Hey.

Atlas: Are you okay? Asher: Not really. Atlas: Do you want to talk about it? Asher: Maybe later. I kinda just want to lay here for a while. Atlas: Okay.

Asher: Can I ask you for a favor? Atlas: Sure, anything you need. Asher: Will you go pick up Jasper for me tomorrow? Atlas: Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.

Asher: Thanks. What were you hollering about when you came in? Atlas: Oh, Dawn is in labor. Asher: No way! That’s exciting! Do they need anything? Atlas: Nothing right now. Phoenix said he’d keep us updated and let us know when we can come over. But, for now, we don’t have to do anything.

Atlas: We can stay right here.

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt3 #asher goode #iris goode #atlas stephens

[covehearted]

Blooming Panic brainrot has given me an idea that won’t leave my head so I have to get it out

MC who is a single parent. After joining the server, you keep that part of your life private for the longest time.

You’re just so exhausted from people making assumptions about you and the invasive questions. You know having a child in your twenties while working such a time-consuming job isn’t the best. But that is no one else’s business; you love your child dearly.

Even if the other parent is a pos.

But when you start getting closer to your chosen love interest you can't put it off anymore. You're aware that not everyone wants to be with someone who already has a kid, you understand. Some people want to enjoy their youth and don't have a child in their plans now or ever. They don't want someone with "baggage."

So you ask for a voice call, readying yourself for the judgment. For the interest that your love interest was expressing to fizzle out as it had with every other date you've had since you left him.

But it doesn't come. You tell them that you have a child, that you understand if it's a dealbreaker but it would be better if it happens now instead of later. But they just smile, telling you that it's okay. That having your child isn't anything to be ashamed of and certainly not something that's going to drive them away. If anything, they admire you for doing so much for your child. Suddenly the number of hours that you work make sense. Your anxiety about changing jobs makes sense.

You have someone who you love, who relies on you. You can't take risks with them. You won't. 

For Quest, in particular, he has to ask if the other parent is... him. When you tell him that yes, the same person that doxxed him was unfortunately the other parent he sucks in a breath between his teeth. He offers his condolences that someone who you try so hard to distance yourself from is so connected to the one who you love the most. You joke that at least now your child will have a better father figure in their life.

Quest tries not to show just how that makes his brain short-circuit and how warm his chest feels.

Nightowl has a moment of pause, but just a moment. He's 25, he's just finishing college, and he has some personality hangups but... he can work on those. He has a job pretty much lined up. He can step up if you'd let him. He wants to. Suddenly the more responsible side of himself kicks in. All he wants is to love you and he can absolutely love your child just as much. He comes across as more of a cool older brother or cousin at first but soon he really hit his stride.

Something about being a dad just brings out the best in him.

Everything clicks into place for Toasty. Your escapism and late hours make a whole lot of sense. They don't know how they didn't guess it in the first place but it honestly... makes him want you to get a better job even more? You wake up so early to go to work, then you go right home to be there for your child so you can be a parent to them and then your one break is the server and Bloomic... You deserve to have a job that gives you more time for your family. He wonders if he could convince you to move in with him?

Maybe you could actually be their secretary. They wouldn't mind having you closer... they feel their cheeks getting hotter just thinking about it.

Xyx takes it in stride. Honestly, he might have noticed it earlier than you would expect. Something about your schedule, about how you knew just the right things to say to help him when he's feeling down. Like you know. Like comforting someone vulnerable is something you've done plenty of times. He knows for sure he's not... the perfect role model. He can be reckless with habits that just barely toe the line of being self-destructive.

But he also has a stable, incredibly well-paying job. He would be happy to give some off-record advice on how to cut off parental rights to make sure that he-who-shall-not-be-named won't bother you or your child again. He jokes that he got a great deal, he got the love of his life AND a child in one go.

He's a pretty lucky guy, ain't he?

#blooming panic #quest #nightowl #nakedtoaster #xyx #headcanon #fanfic #imagine

[rainbowsky]

Hello, rainbow! hope you’re doing well!

i feel really silly asking this, but how do you view dd’s relationship with his fans? what do you think about it?

i’m new to the fandom so i’m kinda confused, and really don’t know if this has been addressed already.

i feel like every time i see him interacting with fans he looks really annoyed? maybe fed up?

i know lately there has been a lot of instances where he got his privacy invaded by “fans”, and that strains the relationship. but i don’t really know how it was before.

i really really like and support him in everything he does, and i know my thoughts might be misplaced. but i wanted to know your thoughts, if you’re willing to share.

Hi Anon, hope you're well too! 😊

Sorry that I'm so late in answering some of these asks. I've been very busy IRL and haven't had much time lately for Tumblr. I'm trying to get to the ones that are still somewhat relevant.

I got a few asks along the same lines of this one, after DD's recent Chunzhen live (more on that event here).

Disclaimer: This response is for all the anons who asked me this question, not just the Anon above. In fact, the above ask is the least judgmental/critical version of this ask I could find, which is why I'm answering it and not some of the others.

This question comes up a LOT whenever new fans see DD in interviews or at fan events, and especially at live endorsement event fan meets, which I believe he mostly hates (because they're boring and contrived and call upon him to be fake, and he's not fake).

Here is the Chunzhen event with Eng Subs.

People seemed to have an especially big reaction to his response (at 50:15) when he was asked if there's anything he wanted to do with his fans and he said, "Nothing." Which is just a very honest answer, quite typical of the DD we know and love.

And let's face it, what a STUPID question. What on earth would DD want to do with his fans? They don't treat him like a human being. What does he even have in common with most of them? As a star, what's he supposed to want to go camping with them or something? They'd spend the whole time screaming and fawning over him.

Anyway, this sort of response always gets negatively interpreted, and fans read a lot into it and often he gets painted as harsh, ungrateful and mean.

I think a lot of it comes from the toxic positivity that is rampant in most cultures - the idea that we have to come across as exuberantly pleasant or else we're being negative or bad.

DD is a very honest, straightforward person who tells it like it is. That means that sometimes he comes across as harsh to some people, but that's just the cultural judgments/assumptions talking - it's not an accurate assessment of who DD is or what he's really like.

There are expectations around how people should look and behave, and when those expectations aren't met, their behavior is interpreted as negative.

As an autistic person I get this a LOT in my life, and I absolutely hate it. It's one of the things I most loathe about interacting with neurotypical and mixed groups of random people who I'm not familiar with and don't have a trust bond with.

Because I don't have a lot of facial expressions, because I don't deal in subtext and I am forthright and honest, I very frequently get interpreted in negative ways - as 'harsh', 'cold', 'rude', 'blunt' or 'intimidating' - when in fact I'm just talking normally, and when in reality I'm actually happy or cheerful about what I'm talking about. People misread me entirely and take everything I say as having a negative tone, and project all these negative ideas, motives and subtext onto me about what they think I really mean or what they think I'm thinking about them. (More on all that here).

It even happens here on my blog.

It's a big part of why I identify with Lan Zhan so much. In fact, that's how I first learned about GG and DD - because my sister saw The Untamed and thought Lan Zhan was just like me, and urged me to watch the show.

We can hopefully all agree that Lan Zhan isn't a hateful, mean, harsh person. We can agree that he's actually a kind, loving, noble person with a lot of deep emotions and a compassionate heart. It's just that his way of expressing that is different from most other people's way of expressing it. Wei Ying is one of the few people who can see and accept Lan Zhan for who he is, and in return he gets the gift of seeing how funny Lan Zhan really is, how soft-hearted and kind.

DD is like this. He's sweet, charming, funny, kind. And he's also very unique, not like everyone else. He has his own way of expressing himself, and he has never been one to put on a fake face for fans - at least, not in his solo career where he's been at liberty to be himself.

We shouldn't read anything negative or judgmental into this.

Whenever DD has a live fanmeet for an endorsement brand my inbox fills with asks about his supposedly being 'off' or 'upset' or even 'angry', and I think if he is any of those things, it's not about what fans seem to assume. It's not some personal thing or some beef he has with fans. It's quite simply discomfort about being put into an event he doesn't enjoy and feels bored by.

DD isn't a salesman. He's not that kind of guy. And these events, they really call upon those kinds of skills and behaviors. They call upon the star to be a cheerful, up-beat shill for whatever ware is being hawked, and that's not something DD seems to feel comfortable with.

If it was a cool Lego set or some skateboard parts and accessories or a motorcycle helmet he'd probably light right up and knock it out of the park. He'd probably sell the shit out of those things. But drinkable yogurt or massage equipment or facial masques - not really something he's going to get fired up about.

DD isn't fake and isn't really capable of pretending to be interested in something he's not interested in. That's a feature, not a bug. That's a good thing, not a bad thing. HE'S SINCERE.

Once you've become more familiar with DD as a person you'll start to see that it's just his personality. And his fans - the ones who've been with him for a while and know him well - they see him for who he is and they love him for it. They know that he's not going to blow smoke up their ass or give them a bunch of fake sweetness. They appreciate his honesty and accept him for who he is.

Someone is likely to ask me if maybe he was upset about the way Chunzhen was handling the event/the situation with turtles, or if he was sticking it to solo fans after the fucked up demands they've been making and the way they've been abusing his team, so I'll address that here as well:

I doubt it, but it's possible.

Whether solos accept it or not, DD does care about turtles. At the very least, turtles are an important part of DD's fan base (and are not involved with the demands and other BS), and I doubt he would appreciate seeing them mistreated by one of his brands.

Turtles aside, I doubt he enjoys dealing with controversies, or with fan demands or with the way they've been slandering his team online. It's possible either one of those issues - or even both - impacted his demeanour in the event.

But like I said, I really doubt it. He was behaving how he usually does at these things - bored and eager to get it all over with. I didn't see anything unusual to suggest he was particularly upset or angry. He was just doing his job, earning his pay. Nothing more.

#ggdd events #savage dd #ggdd in the public eye #ask

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Nine — Paper Trail

“We don’t know enough yet to make any assumptions.” Dr. Sims said cooly from the kitchen, like he himself was trying to hold back from demanding answers from the universe. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find something in the files today. If not, hopefully the tests will tell us something we missed.”

6k words | 30 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Illness, medical procedures [mentioned], racism, abuse, lore. so much lore.

⚠ AUTHOR'S NOTE: There are a lot of imbedded links on this chapter! Some are very low quality, as I had to work with what I could screenshot off of Youtube. If only SPP compiled their stuff in one place like a normal game company. Anyways enjoy!

I woke up to Dad sitting on the floor next to the couch, calling my name gently. “Jeanie, wake up,” he hummed. “C’mon, I made coffee.”

“Do I have to?” I grumbled, face still in the cushions. 

Dad and I had stayed up for nearly two hours after I had walked back into the house and talked about everything; the guilt, the anger, the truth. He wasn’t as mad at me as I thought he was—while he was upset, he didn’t blame me for it. Any of it. “Jean, you don’t know what to do o-or what’s going on,” he reassured me, “I can’t get upset at you for that. I just want you to be careful.” He wanted nothing more than for me to trust his judgment. And maybe I needed to; Dad knew what he was doing. I’d be safe if I listened to him, right? I had to trust him. 

But it was hard, when we both kept hiding things from each other. 

So I extended the olive branch first, and told him the truth; the pain in my back when I use my powers but how it eases when I’m in water. He listened intently to it all, simply nodding along. “I’ll tell Eugene in the morning,” he eventually decided, “We’ll figure it out, I promise,” 

Maybe it was wrong for me to not say anything about Mom as I was huddled into his chest, but I wasn’t sure I could get through that conversation without becoming a blubbering mess. And besides, maybe that was simply meant for me. No one else. 

The heart-to-heart led to us falling asleep on the couch, my head in Dad’s lap as he reclined back. Apparently I exhausted myself in my sobbing so much that I didn’t know Dad slipped away in the morning. Not until he woke me up at least. “Eugene needs to give you a look over and we…we need to talk to you about something too.”

That got me to turn to look at Dad through my curtain of hair. He was crouched holding two cups, Dr. Sims standing behind him with his arms crossed. 

This was gonna be fun. 

Dr. Sims assured me he knew enough basic medical care to know if I was okay. “Or at least, if something is wrong,” he added, looking me over. “Double majored while in college, I just never took the MCAT.”

I had no idea what that was, but nodded like I did as he checked my pulse, timing it against his watch. 

He looked over my scars, checked their stitches. The hole in my neck was barely touched but he at least seemed satisfied by how it looked under its clear wrapping, which I was beginning to think was just saran wrap taped down. “Your dad said it hurts when you use your powers?” he asked me, examining the scar on my side. It was settling into a nice purple, bright against my skin. 

“It’s — it’s not really a hurt,” I started, trying to downplay it. Dad was looking at me too intensely for me to be comfortable with just admitting the fact. “It’s almost like I feel sore when I do, in between my shoulderblades.”

Dr. Sims nodded, hand coming around to my back. “Right here?” He asked, pressing between my shoulder blades. My hand tensed around the coffee mug as I nodded, trying not to wince as he palpated the area.

“Yeah,” I eventually said. 

Dr. Sims hummed, moving his hand away from my back. “And does it hurt while you use your power, or after?” 

I shrugged. “Both? But it only hurts while I’m using it if I do it for a long time. Otherwise it’s usually this, like, twinge after.” 

He nodded, moving to the table to type out some notes on his open mini-laptop. Dad sat back down on the couch beside me, one hand staying wrapped around the coffee mug while the other came to wrap around me. 

I didn’t like that. He would give out affection often, sure, but holding? That usually came before bad news. 

Dr. Sims picked up his laptop and brought it close, sitting on my other side. “Jean, we got your test results back.” He began. 

My heart stopped. “Already?” I asked meekly. Dad’s arm pulled me a bit closer to his side as I slightly turned to face Dr. Sims better. 

Dr. Sims nodded. “I pulled some strings.” 

I waited a moment for him to continue. “So then…what did the results say?” I asked. I hated that he wouldn’t start explaining without my prompting. 

Dr. Sims looked at the computer. “Well, the good news is that there’s nothing wrong with you genetically,” he began. “In terms of chromosomal makeup, you and Brent look perfect.” 

I nodded slowly. “That’s…that’s good,” I glanced over my shoulder at Dad. “But then,” I looked back to Dr. Sims, “Why am I not healing?” 

Dad’s arm squeezed around me gently. “That’s where the bad news comes in.” He said softly. “You know how we took samples of the stuff on your leg?” 

“Yeah?” 

“The results came back abnormal,” Dr. Sims said. “We’re not sure what that means yet, though. Once we’re done here with Mr. Dunbar, I want to take you to the nearest Accredited hospital to do more tests.”

I had to suppress a groan. More tests. “What would — what’re you looking for?” I asked. 

Dad took over the conversation. “Well, answers. We now know Augustine’s tar, one hundred percent, is what’s making you sick. We just need to know how, and why.”

“Mr. Dunbar already got in contact with someone who can examine the tar for us. He just left to mail it. They’re in Boston, so it will take a day or two to get the sample there — but I know this person. She’d be able to uncover any secrets we wouldn’t be able to see.”

 “And we need to make sure you’re okay, too.” Dad added. “See if anything’s changed since the last time we took blood, check your scars. Your arm could probably use a check-up too.”

“And I want to examine your conducrine gland, with your report of pain,” Dr. Sims continued. “I want to take a quantification assay and make sure you’re making enough proteins, and double check that you’re not having any complications. Maybe an MRI.”

I nodded once. “Okay.” I said, like I wasn’t both confused and dreading everything.

“Until then, if you have any more pain, you tell us, okay?” Dad practically demanded. Dr. Sims got up from his spot on the couch to set his computer back on the table, grabbing his empty cup and heading to the counter to get more coffee. 

There was something I needed to know, though. “Did Mom’s com–conducrine gland ever hurt? When she was sick?”

I could feel Dad’s arm around me tense. “It did,” he said. 

“So it’s happening to me too? I thought my test results came back normal, genetically.” I looked at Dad. “If it happened to Mom too, then how…”

A shadow crossed over Dad’s face as he scowled. “We’re wondering the same.”

“We don’t know enough yet to make any assumptions.” Dr. Sims said cooly from the kitchen, like he himself was trying to hold back from demanding answers from the universe. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find something in the files today. If not, hopefully the tests will tell us something we missed.”

The hot cup did nothing to warm me as my blood ran cold. They both seemed angry at the idea that Mom had something put in her, too — and I didn’t like the fact that despite reassuring me they’re not sure what the cause could be, they both seemed settled on a reason to blame. 

Brent eventually stumbled downstairs looking refreshed after resting, which was a relief unlike any other as the image of his lifeless body began to lose its harsh edges in my mind’s eye. Dad managed to find and burn some eggs and turkey bacon as we waited for Zeke to return, and for a brief bit, it almost felt like I could pretend that everything was normal. That we were on some trip in a less-than-stellar rental and this was just breakfast after a night spent gaming or binging a movie series Dad insisted was fantastic. 

Imagining was all I could do to keep from dwelling on the what ifs. 

Zeke eventually came back — and then stepped back out, bringing in muddied ammo box after muddied ammo box. “They’re weather resistant,” he explained to Brent when he gave Zeke a bewildered look. “Which is needed when you live in a swamp. Good for hiding stuff.”

Dad crouched low and pulled his briefcase out from under the loveseat couch, saying, “I brought everything I could. Some stuff got damaged in Betty’s old storage unit, but I managed to salvage most of it.”

“Is that why you brought the briefcase?” Brent asked, glancing over at me. We had a bet going on what he was intending to do with it. “I thought you were just gonna start going back to work,”

Dad’s smile was half hearted. “Nope. Everything in here’s from my adventures,”

The way Dad sarcastically said adventures suggested it wasn’t the fun kind in the movies. 

Dr. Sims began working at his computers at the small table, the mini-laptop perched precariously on his lap as the other two shared the liminal space of the wood. Dad sat on the couch between Brent and I and opened up his briefcase, revealing a hell of random stuff; dozens of crumpled and folded pieces of paper, random little shreddings that almost looked like trash. There was some flier that was badly taped together and newspaper clippings, notes upon notes in Dad’s scratchy handwriting layered in margins of scrap paper and what almost looked like…

“Comics?” I blinked, pulling up the creased stacks of paper. “Did you make a comic?” 

I looked up at Dad in time to see him grimace. “No.” He said, flat. “Those were all clues some crazy killer left me while she tried to frame us all.” 

I looked back down at the artwork in my hands. “Oh.” 

“But there’s—“ Brent began flipping through the papers Dad shoved in his hands. “There’s DUP documents in this?” 

Dad shrugged. “I had to hack into their database to get some answers. She was Augustine’s favorite lackey.” 

“Always leads back to that bitch,” Brent murmured, glancing over at me. 

“Brent.” 

“Oh c’mon Dad, you can’t keep getting onto me about it,” 

“Help me organize all this,” Dad commanded, ignoring Brent completely. “I printed out everything I didn’t have a physical copy of so this is…it’s gonna be a lot.”

“How the hell are we supposed to organize this?” Brent asked, incredulous. 

“There’s serial numbers on them all,” Dad said, pointing to a row of one on a DUP document in Brent’s hand. “Find the connected files if you can.” 

“Delsin, come here for a second,” Dr. Sims said at the table. Dad promised to return and help but asked that we get a head start while he was going over something with Eugene.

The comic wasn’t really a traditional one, but almost some sort of manga; a story about a rabbit that lost her family in an attack, and was safeguarded by a large dragon before being locked away. The art style was immaculate, I had to admit — but I didn’t get how some story with a dragon was supposed to be a hint, unless this version of the Zodiac Killer was hiding some code in the shading. 

Brent nodded my way as I looked over the first page again. “What does that say?”

I shrugged. “Nothing much. Just a bunch of drawings.”

“I meant the back.”

“The—” I cut off, flipping the page. 

Death is just a passing phase. I’ve danced with demise, and let me tell you, he’s a bad dancer (always stepping on my toes). But I’ve learned to embrace the macabre — to navigate its twisted depths. Conduits and “normals” are at a crossroads, and if we don’t look both ways, we’ll all get run down. All I want — all I’ve ever wanted — is harmony between people.  Follow my lead and I’ll show you the trail of bodies. Seek out the corpses and you’ll find the truth decaying within. 

“...Oh.” I said meekly. This had to be what Dad was talking about. Some twisted manifesto by a serial killer. 

I flipped over the others, and each of them had something on their backs — some, notes, others, puzzles. “Hold on,” He said, leaning forward. He grabbed the second page of the manga. “‘If you’re trying to get into the DUP, I’ve been there. In fact, I died there.’” He read off. “Look, there’s that serial number thing Dad was talking about.” 

I read off the row of numbers. “Do you have this file? Starts with, uh—” I glanced down again, “3485?”

Brent muttered the number to himself again and again as he flipped through the pages in his hand. “Here,” he finally said, pulling one out from the middle of the pile. It was a statement issued by Brooke Augustine herself on the death of a Conduit detained at Curdun Cay in a death by a thousand paper cuts — literally. Suicide by dozens of cuts created by paper doves. “Jesus Christ,” I murmured, imagining the pain. I read over the memorandum again, pointing to its first sentence, “There’s a number here, do you have a file for that one?” I asked Brent, “Ends in 2606,” 

“I was just looking at that,” He said. “Fuckin’ — here. Some girl named Celia.” He looked over to Dad, who was behind Dr. Sims, reading something on a screen. “Who was Celia?” 

“Paper conduit?” I asked, incredulous. She could control paper! Or, did — at least with enough control to kill herself. 

Dad glanced over. “She’s the one that made those drawings.”

I blinked. “Guessing she also did the murders?”

“Yep.”

“How’d she get out?” Brent asked. “This says she died,”

Dad breathed deeply, Dr. Sims waving him off and letting him return to our side. “Augustine faked her death to sneak her out of Curdun Cay. Killed some random guard."

“But why?” I asked, looking up from the row of manga strips.

Dad didn’t answer — not at first, at least. He sighed deeply before reaching into the briefcase for a manila folder, opening it and peeking past the flap to check its contents. He nodded once before reaching in to start pulling out photocopies of pictures, laying them out facing us. 

“Jesus,” Brent muttered.

I wasn’t prepared for it to be 90% bodies and death, of someone pinned to a billboard or being held against a wall by dozens of paper doves, bloodied and beaten and dead. “I need you both to look at this,” Dad said, looking up at us with a serious expression. There was barely any emotion in his face now, eyes peering at us like we were on the stand. “Augustine and Celia did this to keep up the narrative. Killed people that had ties to your mom and Eugene to make it look like it was them seeking revenge.” He leaned forward slightly. “And Archangel bombed COLE to try and get me to show myself. There are people out there that will see you as nothing more than a chance to hurt someone else. Nothing more than something to keep the story going. These are the kind of people I’m trying to keep from hurting you.” He looked between Brent and I. “Do you understand?” 

I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes to peel away from the imagery of death and look somewhere, anywhere else. I wasn’t prepared for that. Bodies. A path painted in bloodshed long before I even had the chance to walk it, and littered with fresher meat for the sacrifice of someone else's cause. It felt so hopeless; was this really all there was? All there could be?

Looking away wasn’t a good idea, because my eyes moved from casualty to casualty as they landed on a picture of Mom next to some detective agency’s logo. 

My hand was moving to pick up the file before I could even blink, bringing the black and white photocopy close to my face. I swear, if I concentrated hard enough, I could make her eyes move, almost see how she would bring her chin up and cock her head to the side like she did in the hallucination. 

And this time, I wasn’t too sad while looking at the picture. Zeke was right; was it wrong to treat it as a fact even if there was a good chance it wasn’t? Maybe it was better, knowing the hallucination was just that and yet still being able to be a bit indulgent. 

I forced my eyes off of Mom’s photo to the blurb under it, reading through the information this random detective agency had. “Wait,” I murmured, rereading a single line again and again. “Dad? This thing says Mom’s parents wanted to…wanted to talk to her again.”

Brent’s head snapped around to look at me. “What?” He demanded, snatching the page out of my hand and swatting me away when I tried to take it back. “Holy shit, that’s Mom,”

Dad meanwhile did nothing more than sigh hard. “We did hear from her parents. Shortly after we did the whole gender reveal thing.” His jaw tightened at the memory. “It didn’t go well.”

Brent lowered the page, brow knitting closer together as he looked up at Dad. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

I put down the manga drawings in my hands, giving Dad my full attention too. I had always wondered, if we had a mom, where her side of the family was. I understood Dad was an orphan, he never shied away from that fact; but he never elaborated much on Mom except that her brother passed. I never found the courage to ask about grandparents on that side, either. Brent had once, and the scowl was enough to make me realize it was something he never intended answering. 

Until now. “We had met somewhere in downtown Seattle, which was probably the first mistake. They both didn’t want to be in such a liberal area, and it didn’t help that Lifeline was protesting a lot more after the mass Curdun Cay release. Your mom was still on trial for her murders—”

“While pregnant?” Brent asked, eyes widening. 

Dad shrugged. “All of us were. You think they were gonna let all of us go without a fight? There’s a reason the Akurans found your mom so easily.” He inhaled hard, trying to bleed the anger out of his voice. “They weren’t happy about the publicity of the trial. Add that on top of your mom having children with someone that wasn’t white, and the fact that they refused to apologize for turning Abbs in to the DUP and…well, why keep them around?”

“Jeez,” I hummed, glancing back down at the page in Brent’s hand, Mom’s face staring back at me upside down. I couldn’t think of much else to say but that, other than wishing I could’ve somehow supported Mom during that time. Her parents wouldn’t even say sorry for giving her away to the government!

Brent could form more words than me. “None of the shit she went through would have happened if they didn’t try to sell her in the first place,”  He bit, angry at their audacity. 

Dad nodded. “You would think they’d feel bad after everything that started coming out about Curdun Cay — the experiments and all that. But these are the same people Abbs told me didn’t think conversion therapy was a bad thing, so I guess they just saw it as another form of that.”

“Assholes.” Brent spit. 

Dad didn’t reprimand him that time. 

“Let’s just go through these files.” He finally decided. “Jean, get together all the F.A.N numbers from the back of those drawings. Brent, start throwing things in piles by person or facility or whatever.”

I snuck a chance at reading more of the manga as I scribbled down everything I found on a torn bill envelope Zeke passed over to me; it was Celia’s life story, pieced together by the files and clues connected to it. A girl who lost everything like so many others right here in New Marais before being found by a dragon and locked away in some cells carved into the side of a mountain. There was imagery of the child rabbit being torn in half as a being more sleek and pure colored rabbit, which I had to guess had to be her ‘death’ and rebirth, if the note on the back was anything to go by. In fact, I died there. 

It never showed how she escaped, but the next page did show three others as they rushed away from the dozens of wyvern pursuing them — it took me longer than I’d admit to realize who they were. The next page spoke the representation clearly though; ‘Inazuma…vengeance now her drug of choice.’ The peahen was slaying shady looking shrews with needles slinging away from their hands. 

Mom. 

The next page featured a rooster named Ushinatta who had ‘went back to playing games’, the rooster opening its huge wings and calling down hens to peck at some bullies. That had to be Dr. Sims. 

There was a third guy, though, that I realized I didn’t know. 

Kemuri. Some sort of lizard…or maybe a gecko? “Who swore he’d never harm anyone” the page read as the gecko attacked a caravan driven by an elephant. There were three people that escaped that van, weren’t there? Mom, Dr. Sims…and someone else. 

I lifted my head and was about to ask Dad when Brent said, “Here, this dude matches the drawing,” under his breath, handing me another DUP file. An incident report, in fact:

Despite our best efforts to isolate the detainees in as safe and thorough a manner as possible, two ward-mates developed a relationship that threatened to undermine the careful work being done with both: inmate 007-3171-8404 began looking out for 056-7339-2606, warding off any bullies and establishing a friendship.  RESOLUTION: Inmate 007-3171-8404 was relocated to the maximum-security ward, due to his history of escape attempts and insurrection.  Monitoring of inmate 056-7339-2606 has been increased ever since she used her daily paper privilege to create the attached image:

A full body drawing of the gecko was photo scanned with the DUP file, creased lines doing nothing to hinder the artwork.

My new friend was taken away today, the words under it read, It was my fault, I’m sure. I was just trying to be nice…just like he was nice to me. He told me I reminded him of his daughter. And now, just like my real parents— He’s gone. 

“You got anything on this 8404 inmate?” I asked Brent. Dad was busy organizing a bunch of little tags, not even registering that we were talking. 

Brent’s side of the floor looked way more organized than mine; perfect piles of paper with shredded clippings on top of each one, numbers or names scribbled on top. “Yeah, uh—” Brent’s eyes scanned the piles in front of him before he reached out, snatching the page away so fast that the clipping on top of it fluttered off somewhere. “Here. You plan on organizing the comic thing, by the way?”

“Fuck off,” I murmured, nearly laughing when Brent’s head snapped towards Dad as he waited for the reprimand, and balked when he saw it wasn’t coming. I stuck my tongue out at Brent before looking at the inmate file, trying to keep my snickering as quiet as possible. 

Hank Daughtry. Apparently some guy that was a criminal before puberty, who’d rob or break out of jail every chance he got — but never harmed a civilian when he did. Curdun Cay was the first place to keep him in place. At least, till that military vehicle.

The power section, though, held all of the answers I needed; he could wield smoke. Embers and fire, too, if the paper was to be believed. I could hear the echoes of Dad’s voice in the back of my head: “She thought the guy I got smoke from told me about her plan — the breakout and DUP funding, all that.” 

Betty had said Dad helped bring down her warehouse when he first got his powers. The first power. Smoke. 

But that didn’t explain why Dad was so quiet about this guy. Why, before this moment, I had never heard of him. “Dad?” I asked. 

He tore his eyes away from the newspaper clipping in his hands. “What’s up?”

“What happened to this Hank guy? You know, after Seattle?” I glanced down at the file again — there wasn’t even a picture of the inmate on this one. There was a wall of blacked out text at the bottom of the file, though. “Did he not help you guys?”

Behind Dad, Dr. Sims stopped typing, looking over to where we sat. Even Brent stopped to see what Dad was gonna say. 

“He didn’t.” Dad said simply, jaw clenched. “It was just me, Eugene and your mom that took on Augustine.”

Brent blinked. “What, did he not want to?”

“I wouldn’t have let him if he did. He was a piece of shit, anyways.”

I glanced down at the inmate file; moral code, immense self discipline. Whatever issue Dad had with him sure didn’t seem to match the document. “What happened to him?” I asked.

“Does it matter?”

Dad’s voice bit with a ferocity that wasn’t usual from him unless we were in trouble. “I mean,” I scrambled to say, the tone activating the fear of getting grounded in me, “I guess not? I was just wonder—”

“Then there you go. It doesn’t matter.” Dad inhaled deeply before continuing, “If Daughtry’s files don’t have anything useful in them, then do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Throw them in the trash.” Dad said flatly, moving to get up. He left towards the kitchen where Zeke was messing with the discarded stuff from another ammo box, roughly grabbing the stale pot of coffee to pour a cup and drink it black in one go like it was a shot. 

I looked over at Brent, bewildered, who was already turning back to face me with his eyebrows shot up so high they were close to disappearing into his unkempt hair. He mouthed What the fuck? at me and all I could do is shrug, taking the rest of the papers in Daughtry’s pile to look over. May as well double check them before they became landfill food. 

Not that there was much left in his pile; There were three more pages with no more than three paragraphs on the largest one, each following reports of Daughtry possibly being seen somewhere in Seattle after he broke out blowing up cars in an attempt to assassinate that asshole senator who was caught years ago saying something about how Hitlers policies at least were keeping people safe in that leaked audiofile as he admitted to trying to replicate them for Conduits. 

One of the bullet points on the results of the DUP’s investigation caught my eye, though: no residual signs of Ray Sphere radiation detected. Radiation? Why would there be radiation in the middle of downtown Seattle? “Does anyone know what ray — Ray Sphere radiation is?” I asked the room.

Over in the kitchen, Zeke’s head popped up, looking to Dad for a moment. Whatever he was trying to ask, Dad gave him permission with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Blast in Empire City was from a Ray Sphere.” Zeke began. He took a moment to dig in a box before pulling out one of those leather journals that always looked a little too light brown to be real, brass metal corners of the journal catching the light as Zeke flipped it open. “The First Sons made it.”

He began walking towards us with the journal as he flipped through pages, humming when he landed on what he wanted to show us. “Here. Journal’s useless in some spots ‘cause it’s written in code, but this is what the thing looked like.”

He flipped the journal over and held it out for me to take; the page was a sketch, one side full of components, the other what they all looked like pulled together into one device. 

Brent snorted beside me when he scooted over to look at it, and I knew it was because we were thinking the same thing. “It’s shaped like a Death Star,” He said humorously, looking at me with an eyebrow raised. 

“Just as powerful, too.” Zeke responded. “Thing blew up six blocks and killed thousands.”

That shut Brent up real fast. 

“But I don’t—” I cut off, looking down at the drawing. The etchings beside each piece were all code, the only one highlighted being a jagged piece of rock. “Why would the DUP look for Ray Sphere radiation at an explosion site? Unless they thought someone was trying to take out Seattle.”

Dr. Sims moved off of the barstool, walking over. “May I?” he asked me, giving a nod of thanks when I handed the journal over. He perused the page and then looked at Zeke. “Where did you get this?”

“It was Wolfe’s,” Zeke answered.

That one word was enough to make Dad’s head snap up, and he turned around. “Raymond Wolfe?” He asked. 

Zeke shook his head. “Sebastian, his brother.”

“Oh,” Dad said flatly. “The First Sons scientist. Great,”

Zeke shrugged, gracefully brushing off Dad’s disapproval. “Hey man, sometimes you have to be willing to drink the poison if it means you find out how it would kill someone. We used this to figure out how the RFI worked.”

Dr. Sims flipped through the next few pages, eyes lighting up. “I know this code,” he murmured, before looking up at Dad and Zeke and repeating the words. “I know this code — it was in one of the DUP files I stole. I could decode this journal,”

“Y’think it would have anything that would help us in it?” Dad asked. 

Zeke looked over his shoulder. “Wolfe was the First Son’s top scientist. If there’s anyone that might have information, it would have been him.” Zeke shrugged. “I reckon it’s worth a shot.”

Dr. Sims snapped the journal shut, nodding. “I’ll move upstairs to the spare room, I’m going to need the space.” He said decisively. Each laptop was put in rest mode and shut, stored away at a speed I didn’t know what possible out of someone so lanky. “D, come get me if you all make any progress down here, okay?”

Dad looked at Zeke. “Do you still have the stuff from the runaround with Wolfe?” 

Zeke turned to face Dad fully, watching Dr. Sims disappear up the stairs. “No, I gave it all to Alessia. She might still have it, if we’re lucky.”

Both Brent and my head shot up. “Wait, like, Aunt Sia?” I asked, looking at Dad.

Alessia was known to the world as the chairwoman of COLE and an old ringleader of Project Sanctuary, the nationwide underground anti-DUP movement. In those seven years the DUP had control and were hunting down Conduits to bag and tag, Alessia was trying to sneak Conduits over the border, stage protests, and…well, give the DUP a hard time. If it involved picketing or slashing tires, she was there, coordinating the attacks. 

We didn’t know her as that woman for the longest time, though. To us, she was Aunt Sia; the woman who would watch us when Dad had to go take an exam while he was in school, or needed a break. A babysitter that cared so much about us. The cool lady who brought these fancy Japanese candies every time she’d come over and would take us to things like renaissance faires. I remember her teaching Dad how to braid my hair and making huge masterpieces out of legos with Brent, indulging me by declaring every little drawing I made a masterpiece. She had moved away six or seven years ago and we really only got to see her when there was some big COLE event near Portland. 

But I was surprised to find out that she knew Dad as Delsin and not just Damion.

Dad’s eyes wandered off as he thought. “I…I could call her, see if she still has anything from then.” Eyes snapping back to Zeke, he added, “You’d have to show me how to make calls with your setup, though,” 

“‘Course, it’s in my shed. C’mon, I’ll show ya,”

Zeke was heading towards the door with Dad hot on his heels, who only stopped in its frame to turn to Brent and I and say, “Take any notes on anything you don’t understand, okay? Maybe we’ll figure something out.”

He was gone before we responded. 

“You think this was what he did the whole time?” Brent asked, looking at me and holding up the stack of files he hadn’t gone through yet. “Just reading files and shit?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. Last I heard he was attacking innocent civilians and killing random passersby.”

Brent rolled his eyes. “How he dealt with all of this without killing someone, I’ll never understand.”

We worked in silence for a while, me taking the time to finish the story and begin to piece it to its pieces of evidence; Saisei had found a new friend, a bird with two heads, and it wasn’t hard to make the connection on who that was supposed to represent. He would tell her stories, and they would laugh for hours on end, the page said, largely contrasting the story Dad had told us. It had to be some sort of mockery thing; I send you running around, and you try to figure out why I’m a psycho. What a laugh! 

But the dragon came down, disapproving of their banter. I fail to see the humor, it said, to which the two-headed representation of Dad replied look harder before beginning to fight her. The personification of Augustine. An epic battle of good and evil…but the roles were debatable the page read, like I was supposed to sympathize with Augustine as she fell to Dad’s talons. 

I wasn’t ready to read the little bunny call Augustine’s character Mama. 

“Look at this shit,” Brent murmured, handing me a page. It was an email log between two people. “Does this make sense to you?” 

It made a lot of sense, too much sense, as I read the first message title: Purotekutā to me (“Saisei”).

I explained the comic to Brent as we reread the email chains together, the pieces of the truth falling in place. “Augustine asked her to stay in the shadows, that she can’t protect Celia.” I looked at Brent, bewildered. “D’you think she adopted Celia? Like, as her own kid?”

“Well she calls Augustine Mama in this thing—” he waved around the stack of stapled manga, “So I’m guessing so. Or whatever fucked up version of ‘family’ they were playing up there in Curdun Cay,”

“‘You have done everything I asked and more, but unless he can be controlled, Delsin is our enemy.’” I read from the email chain. “‘He is blinded by his power, he thinks he’s invincible. But without walls, without his brother, who will protect him?’” 

Brent scoffed. “What a bitch. I should have killed her when we were fighting in the Sound.”

“Think that’s crazy, you should read the last entry on this thing.” I said, offering the paper with the email chain. “Celia messages Augustine saying something about needing to know whose purpose was stronger and that’s why she didn’t try to help her.”

Brent shrugged, taking it. “Raise a lunatic, and don’t be surprised when you’re eventually their victim.”

“Augustine really made everyone her pawn,” I hummed. “Mom, Dr. Sims, this chick. How much of it do you think was to protect Conduits?”

“Not enough, considering she lost.” Brent huffed.

#infamous second son #infamous #infamous erosion #delsin rowe #sucker punch productions #Eugene Sims #Fetch Walker #hehehehehehehehehe #Celia Penderghast #Brooke Augustine #Zeke Dunbar #God I wanna say the OC too but I know Gab's nosey ass reads tags first so I CAN'T #But heho #I forgot literally every other tag. pretend they're here.

[not-a-puzzle]

Why the "pick-me" insult is sexist and transphobic, and why it needs to stop being tossed around like rice at a wedding.

I can't hide it; I've hated this insult ever since I first heard it come out of a snobby teenage girl's mouth. Something about it fired up my instincts, it got under my skin like salt on a snail's underbelly where it scratched and burned until I had to get myself to address why I hate it so much.

Well first off was the way I first heard it used, in a snobby, holier than thou tone said in a very mean girl type way, y'all know what I'm talking about. The Blaire White type tone. Judgmental, derogatory, like the way Fundamentalist Christians say slurs against trans people.

And that brings me to my next point, the term is undeniably transphobic, or at least, regressive to non-binary expressions of gender. Ya'll might think it's an insult used towards a certain attitude or behavior, but alas, I've seen this term used against tomboys or any girl who doesn't express herself in a hyperfeminine way enough times to know it's really sexism fueling the sheer amount we hear this term flung about now. (And I suspect there's actually a right-wing element to this.)

But on top of that, it runs under the assumption that any thing girls do is soley to catch the attention of men. Wear a crop top? You're doing that for men? Showing your shoulders, OH YOU WHORE! So by assuming a girl is a tomboy or likes video games or whatever that they're just screaming, "OMG BOYZ PICK ME OMG!!" you are making a judgement based off fucking nothing, often by people who do nothing but yell the second they turn on a camera, or want a reason to bully someone, cause a guess life is too boring for y'all if you're not harassing someone at least once a day?

What makes it worse is that most girls aren't super feminine. Lots of girls like things boys like too and vice versa, and yet our society is still so segregated based on gender that we STILL gender things from color to hobbies to clothing. Isn't that so old-fashioned you can smell the rancidity??

My point is, GOD FORBID WOMEN DO ANYTHING!

And do you ever consider if she's trying to not be like other girls, maybe it has nothing to do with her not liking girls, but with the rapid capitalist fueled consumerism and shallowness and unwritten social rules girls are being brainwashed with. (I mean, look at the 10- and 11-year-olds making a mess of Sephora and tell me that's how girls are meant to act naturally. No, they've been brainwashed by social media, and sadly, they want to grow up far too quickly and don't value their childhood, but rant for another day.)

And to round out this rant, I will say a lot of tomboys are girls on the autism spectrum, thus they may find it easier to befriend guys than girls (at least when they're all young) because guys generally (note I say generally here) are less prone to enforcing unwritten social rules and confusing figurative language than girls are. And guess what? A hallmark autism is a more literal mindset than a social one.

And besides, in the situation that a girl takes on a new way of expressing herself to attract guys, what's actually wrong with that? Don't you know how often I've seen girls dress up and fake act like a guy's jokes are so funny so they can start a relationship? Because someone wants to loved or horny or both. (Which there's nothing wrong with.) So, why is it wrong to use the technique of wanting to attract someone by being interested in things they're interested in? Or worse yet, not running around shouting about how "all men are pigs." So, oh dear, pick me isn't just sexist against women, it's sexist against men, because I also often see it used against women who don't hate all men.

Or say it's an incel type situation, JUST FUCKING CALL HER AN INCEL? WTF is up with gendering our insults. Why do guys and girls need different terms if it's actually the case for showing the same behaviors? Call women simps, call them incels, stop reserving insults for guys until you want to assume a girl is just doing something for guy's attention for which you want to shame her for that aspect. (Because it's wrong to be horny all the sudden? This not only pisses me off, but it also confuses the hell out of me.) But hey, you judgmental bitches out there, maybe she, a girl a woman, LIKES SOMETHING!! OH NO!! How dare she, she's a femiod! (Do I need to point out the last few sentences are sarcasm?)

And remember girls, pick-me is not an insult against loser-type, blaming everyone else for their mistake's behavior like incel is, it's a direct insult against a girl DARING to go against pre-established gender roles. Who are the people actually putting boys and girls in boxes, affirming established gender roles by implying other types of behavior is against the norm? Is it the simple tomboy, or the jerks who continue using this insult without realizing it's an insult created specifically to force traditional femininity upon women instead of letting them be who they are.

(A lot of these "dreaded pick-me's" are probably non-binary too folks.)

Don't get me wrong, this gif goes both ways. Obviously when girls have been boxed in all their lives, they're gonna get obnoxious about it when they aren't inside the box anymore. Yet, those who fling around the pick-me insult are calling attention to the breaking of gender roles all the more, and in the way that actually enforces them rather than the thing I think "pick-me's" actually do, and that's desperately trying to build a unique personality and find themselves in a world that still limits women so much. Can you blame someone for trying to fight against something, even if they are doing so in a sloppy way?

Well, I'll leave off this long rant post with saying this was inspired when the Misery Machine posted a video of a woman who fucking murdered people, but instead of actually focusing on the crime, they focus on the aspect of her being a pick-me. Why? She was goth. Yup. I bet you're pissed too now. Her being a pick me had nothing to do with being a murderer, so why even bring it up?

I'm not trying to language police, I'm just trying to call out attention to quite frankly might just be a new slur, which people will look back on in shame. There's so much hatred against a lot of today's slang, so why isn't the worst slang getting more hatred than words like gyatt or fantom tax, which are harmless at the end of the day.

My main point, LET PEOPLE ENJOY THINGS and MIND YOUR OWN BUISNESS!!!! Let's be aware of all the little things designed to degrade people and bring them down while the corporations profit off our insecurities they created in us, and we can start by not using insults coined by Grey's Anatomy of all things.

#pick me #trans rights #fuck misogyny #fuck misogynists #fuck sexist insults #tw sexism #tw transphobia #fuck abelism #tw abelism #fuck conservatives #autism #mental health #lgbtq #lgbt #lgbt rights #gender nonconformist #neurodivergent awareness #nonbinary #stupid shit #pick me is a bad insult

[destinyc1020]

For Confession Corner Sunday

I, for one, feel it's disrespectful to discuss TZ's sex life. What they do in public or what is shared on a public forum is fair game for discussion, but their private intimate moments are off limits imo. Other than simple public affectionate gestures and the pap pics of passionate kisses in their vehicle, we are not privy to their intimate life. And rightfully so. Knowing how TZ felt about those pap pics, and knowing they keep their relationship sacred, I feel extremely uncomfortable discussing and/or speculating about their more intimate moments.

Unpopular opinion?

*Taking a deep breath so that I can fully prepare myself to answer this ask without ruffling any feathers*

First of all, thank you so much Anon for your confession. 🙂 As you know, today is a judgment-free zone when you send things in for confession corner lol. I actually appreciate you bringing this topic up, because I don't think this really gets talked about enough in the Tomdaya fandom tbh. 👀

Before I dive in, I'll just put out a ***disclaimer*** and say that my opinions and feelings on this topic are just MY personal feelings, so you all don't have to agree. 🤷🏾‍♀️

With that said, I'll just say that I actually agree with you 100% on this. 👏🏾 I think maybe in years past I didn't really see the "big deal" about speculating about, or openly discussing assumptions about Tom and Z's sex life (just harmless fun, right?), but as time went on, I started noticing that SOME fans in the fandom seemed to have a bit of a fixation about what Tom and Z's sex like must be like in the bedroom (even being graphic about it 🥴), and I just started to get a bit creeped out by that... no offense. 🥴😬👀

I agree that there's definitely a very fine line btwn fans finding a couple adorable and cute 🥰, vs fans conjuring up multiple wattpad-level fanfics about Tom and Zendaya's bedroom behavior, and no offense, but to me, the latter is just kind weird. 😵‍💫

I don't really like speculating about ANY celebrity's sex life (obviously, we KNOW they ALL have sex 😅) in great detail like that. Even small jokes can be a bit weird. It's like, you don't know them!

Plus, I find ppl to be a little WEIRD just in general when it comes to Tom and Z and sex just period. From the fans/trolls who think Z is "cheating" on Tom anytime she interacts in a romantic scene with any of her male co-stars🙄, to male fans making weird, sexually-explicit gay manips of Tom in his Spider-man/Peter Parker character (or just Tom himself).... idk... it's just really gross and weird to me, I'm sorry. 😞 They've been doing this stuff for years! Even when Tom was like 21. 🥴

Believe me, after 6 years in this fandom, I've definitely seen some things lol. 😵‍💫

I can't police what other ppl discuss or choose to post on THEIR blogs (nor would I ever want to 🥴), but I just know that for me on my blog, I usually try to be relatively respectful of TZ and their rlshp, and I think we pretty much keep it fairly PG-13 in here when it comes to stuff like that lol. They seem like such a sweet couple 🥰 that just wants to be private, and so I usually try not to go down the rabbit hole of their "intimate" life, or make any assumptions, cuz the truth of the matter is, we just don't know a SINGLE THING! 🤷🏾‍♀️

All we can say is that they seem extremely happy, and just leave it at that lol 😅

But anything beyond that is just speculation, and I guarantee you, their real life intimate details are probably not even as "exciting" as fans make it out to be anyway rofl 🤣 That's the problem with fanfics lol... They put out this idea about a person that might not even be true! 👀

Idk, maybe it's just me, but I agree with you.... speculating about anyone's (celebrity or NOT) intimate sex life is just kinda gross to me, and is kind of crossing a very fine line imo. 👀😬

I just love TZ together, and I think that over the years (especially after they got outed) I've just gained so much more RESPECT for them, and I just feel kind of protective over them in a way, ykwim? ❤️

Idk... Maybe you and I are the ONLY ones who feel this way lol 😆, but I'm actually glad you brought this topic up! Because I have secretly felt for a long time that there are some in the fandom who may go a bit too far in their sexualization of TZ, and it just starts to become a little ick. 🥴

#confession corner sunday #sorry for the dissertation

[zealoussy]

Yellowface by R. F. Kuang

✨ Some sort of review

So, basically June (a white woman) is so jealous of her friend, Athena (a chinese american, queer), who seems to have it all, that when she suddenly dies, June steals her friend’s unfinished manuscript. She stole it, polished it so it aligned with her approach to writing, then published the story as hers.

Yes, she's insufferable. Yes, you have to deal with her for the whole book. So, make sure you prepare a snack, a tea, or anything that you can grab when things get frustrating.

As an unlikeable character, June is written too well, I think. When you read this, you will expect to hate everything that she says and does. Granted, there are a lot of things you can hate about June. But the thing is, RFK leaves enough room in the characterization of June for the readers to interpret what kind of character she is.

You see, in satire, usually you have this expectation that the characters will always talk in exaggeration, their behavior and worldview, you can’t help but expect the characters to be some sort of caricature. Yet often, in this book, the things that she says are the messages that RFK wants to deliver.

If you find yourself agreeing with this quote from June,

We’re just suggesting the right credentials, so that readers take me and my story seriously, so that nobody refuses to pick up my work because of some outdated preconceptions about who can write what. And if anyone makes assumptions, or connects the dots the wrong way, doesn’t that say far more about them than me?

may I remind you that in this context, June stole Athena’s manuscript about a WWI Chinese Laborers story? Well you’ll find more layers of irony like this in Yellowface.

That dissonance between how I perceive June and some things she said that I agree with, makes me reevaluate my thinking about what was said, who said, how it was said. (A lot of things said on the internet. It’s easy to lose my voice in the noise, sometimes I even forget to make my own judgment.)

Another thing about June is that she feels human in this book. Before you come at me, no, I am not a June defender. There are moments where you will see how June is slowly deteriorating. In those moments, you can see that June is capable of guilt and grief and fear. That, makes her human.

Although not for long you’ll be reminded again, how still unlikeable she is. What an asshole she is. Some people may not like this way of characterization where, after showing her vulnerability, you'll then be hit in the face with a reminder how bad she is.

For me personally, I like to be reminded that she is terrible simply because I’m an empath.

Aside from June's characterization, there's also the social commentary. Have you ever felt like you have so much in your head but it seems impossible to express what you think? Yeah, RFK spoke what I had in mind like how. This book is I think RFK's way to give words to the things that she has been observing. She's very thorough at that too.

Maybe it's because I'm chronically online. Or maybe it's because I'm always interested in media trends. But there are a lot of nuances in which RFK write the things that she wanted to show the readers.

For example, June thought that the way Athena approached historical fiction is "so hackneyed that they defy belief", although it was implied that Athena was trying to be as truthful as possible to the actual history.

For June, how Athena writes is not accessible, didactic, therefore makes it not a good craft. Meanwhile all this time the opposite has been said about Athena's books: brilliant, authentic, insightful.

Part of Athena's original draft that June's editor said to be "torture porn" was a literal story straight from historical record. That exchange between June and her editor is a good example of "the winner is the one who write the history" or whatever, that sentence, but in a bad way.

From this gaze, we get to see how power is an essential factor that builds the narrative. There's a big part in the story where white privilege plays a role in which they have more advantages over people of color.

SPOILER ALERT

June is misusing her influence towards a POC character which consequently ruin that person's life entirely.

SPOILER ENDS.

Talking about POC, RFK has got some humour in her. I love how Juniper is written being so delulu that it makes her look plain stupid.

"Diversity is what’s selling right now. Editors are hungry for marginalized voices. You’ll get plenty of opportunities for being different, Emmy. "

In booktwt specifically, it is not an uncommon occurrence where readers are debating about diversity. "Just because the book is diverse doesn't mean it's good," that saying is not unfamiliar among the readers. What is a good book, honestly? Pulling the thread from this scope, RFK tried to capture how twitter discourse looks like, what each sides are arguing about.

It's easy for people to dismiss the happenings on the twitter as, "It's just twitter", although in a lot of cases it's warranted that things are overblown in there, but there needs to be some consideration where people's life are depending on it. What does this mean is, it all comes down to the theme of white privilege again. June's career is depending on social media, mainly twitter. Being the June that she is, let's say, she's not nice to people, so there are consequences of her own actions, but knowing how deranged twitter can be, relying your career using that media can be debilitating. June is obviously overwhelmed by this. I like this part because this is where the social commentary shines light about the publishing industry.

But Twitter is real life; it’s realer than real life, because that is the realm that the social economy of publishing exists on, because the industry has no alternative.

I don't think I ever heard a book that tells a story about publishing industry this close. Readers are introduced to the behind the scenes of publishing industry with a sense of familiarity, using terms that readers use when they talk about the books they consume. Yellowface is an intriguing piece of literature that break the door to the source of the enjoyment itself and the way it is created in this profit-hungry society. Not only that, it also a neat composition of characterization, storyline, motif, worldbuilding, and a sprinkle of social commentary.

TLDR: Seriously, please read Yellowface! It's well-written, engaging, insightful, and overall an amazing book.

#book review #booklr #yellowface #yellowface rf kuang #rf kuang #white gaze #books #adablabbooks #sorry for any grammatical errors and incoherent sentences :') #i don't talk about athena liu because i want people to experience by themselves #the character of athena liu

[cogentranting]

Hi, I don't know you and you don't know me. But I discovered your blog through the rating animated horses posts (all of your ratings are perfect btw) and scrolled through out of curiosity. I am a gay trans man and have had some unpleasant experiences with Christians in the past. I know not all Christians are as cruel as they were, but it's easier to believe it when I witness it. I know this is a strange ask but I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You seem like a kind individual who would treat my community like real people. I don't know what your views on us are, but I'm certain you would treat us like anyone else. Thank you for being kind in this terrifying world ♥♥♥

Hi. Thank you so much for this. It means a lot to me to hear you say this.

I do believe very differently than you about matters of gender and sexuality. I have theologically conservative, orthodox Christian beliefs about those things. In short, that sex should be within marriage, which is between a man and a woman; and that there are two genders which are fixed and in line with our biology. That's maybe not the best expression of it, but I'm not trying to lecture you or preach at you or anything, I'm just trying to be clear so that it doesn't come across that I'm either trying to deceive anyone or hiding my beliefs. And I'm figuring that you know the general gist of it. But if you (or anyone else) wants to know more about what I believe on that and why, I can certainly talk about it.

I've gone back and forth the last couple days since you sent this, over what to say and how much to say. Because I really do care. i care very deeply. I've had a fair number of students who identify as gay or trans or nonbinary, and whenever anything comes up related to these issues they are the ones that I think about. Their names, their faces, their stories. And I worry about them, and I hope that they're safe, and happy and taken care of. And when I disagree with them about things like the concept of gender, it's because I truly, deeply believe that they are the ones being harmed by those ideas and that kills me.

I have a lot of strong feelings about the transgender movement and ideology (for lack of a better term) because I really believe that it's doing a lot of very real harm (spiritual, emotional, psychological and physical) to people who are vulnerable and struggling and who are just trying to figure out how to fit in and how to be themselves and all of that. People like my students and (without making any assumptions about you or your situation) you.

I think there's far too much assumption of ill will on both sides. I think that most people who share your beliefs and ideology really are trying their best to help people be safe and happy. And I think that most people who share mine (who truly share mine, and not some twisted version, because I'd say there's also a false dichotomy that makes it into two different positions and not a wide range of people believing a wide range of things)-- that most people who share mine also want those same people to be safe and happy.

I do also know that there are far too many Christians and people who call themselves Christians, who respond with anger and mockery and cruelty (or are even just well-meaning but incautious and insensitive). And I'm sorry that you've had to deal with that, and I hope that your experiences in the future are better.

I'll be praying that you are safe and taken care of, and that you will get to see God's love in a way that the Christians you've known in the past have failed to represent to you.

I hope that I haven't said anything to sound unkind or judgmental or like I'm lecturing you, and if I did I'm sorry because that was not my intention. Thank you again for your incredibly kind words, and I'm glad I was able to make you smile with some ridiculous horse jokes. Happy New Year.

[maoth-fuath]

Personal post/ dumb post

One of the convos online that I think have messed me up probably the most, is convos where people discuss feminine presentation vs masculine, or "gender" presentation in general. I think it's really hard to look at people constantly hyper analyzing how other people view them and not go crazy. I think this is also true in feminist convos. Like, I don't think I've experienced much judgment from people. However, I think people maybe go a little far in talking Abt how they KNOW how straight people view certain styles. Or how people are viewing their gender. Or how people are viewing their style in general. Like, the queering of style in general? Acting like you know a certain style is only worn by queer people. Like I like to be both masculine and feminine at the same time but I don't think Abt it in the grand scheme of things and when I do I go crazy. I just wear what I like. If I analyze how straight men feel Abt it. Or how random people feel Abt it. It just hurts. Bec I just like stuff that feels like me. I'm literally not trying to impress men. I'm also not thinking Abt people in public formulating opinions Abt me. I hate thinking Abt all the conversations overanalyzing feminine behaviors. I literally don't wear makeup except for sometimes gold eyeliner Bec I really love how it looks. And, I hate both A. The weird discourse around makeup. And B. Feeling like I'd be judged by these people for even the little makeup I do wear. OR they'd go off abt how weird makeup is actually revolutionary Bec men don't like it? And only femme queer people wear it? Idk, like it just hurts. I just literally don't want to give a shit what anyone thinks Abt my presentation. Or what they assume Abt my relationship or gender. The assumptions are all so stupid. And you 99% of the time can't actually assume what people think. Sometimes people aren't thinking what you think they're thinking. There's a type of queer person who acts like straight people are literally terrified of them Bec "they can't tell my gender it's too whacky". When in all reality sometimes people are just confused? Not scared. And I don't know why you act like this gives you insane power. When it kinda just sounds exhausting to think Abt 24/7 and try to maintain it. + You come off kinda self obsessed Bec I don't think everyone cares abt your presentation as much as you think they do. I hate feeling self obsessed. I think that bec I have ocd I end up fixating on this type of stuff. Bec it's painful to think that A. I know what everyone is thinking based on their sexuality or whatever, but B. That it's very one dimensional always. Bec "straight people are boring/predictable ect" Sorry this post is just a vent post. I've been thinking Abt identity. And I just don't care what gender or sexuality people think I have anymore. Or what that "means" Abt me. I also don't gender anything. So when I wear fem/masc things I just think of them as comfy..not as a way to express my gender or my entire Identity to them. It shouldn't be that deep. Gender is just so boring. I just like things when they are fun and comfy. I'm not trying to present a nonbinary gender thesis when I wear what I want. I don't even think Abt my behaviors being masculine or feminine until people point them out. And the pointing out of these things is exhausting. I get why these convos happen they just go so far. And become so alien and unrelatable.

[jpt1311]

Swamp Con _ Saturday

Saturday, afternoon, blazing sunshine of Florida, while the building itself is not half blown or anything, the air inside feels different. When a significant portion of people walking around the place is doing cosplay, the space gains one other layer of significance than the ordinary Reitz Union, for it is now housing the Swamp Con. Compared to the other similar events that I have been to before, due to the structure of Reitz Union, the Swamp Con has a pretty different layout. For instance, many of these conventions and gatherings take place within sites like stadiums or simply exhibition halls, where there are convenient, large patches of flat space available, and the stalls would arrange simply one next to another, resembling the teeth on a comb, and people would be able to see what is going on at the entrance, to some extent. While in Reitz, people set up their stalls within separate halls, creating these tiny gatherings. These halls might contain stalls that have different themes or distinct purposes or even focus on a particular series like the ninja turtles, although I am personally not a big fan of it. Even still, maybe it is due to the relatively scarce space available in Reitz, the event is separated into two days where different events take place. since I do not have many preferences when it comes to events like this, I randomly picked Saturday, mainly for the experience. Although there are differences visually from the Comiket events described in Genshiken, there is still a resemblance in ambiance and atmosphere. Even judging from just the cosplay clothing almost half of the people wears around the stalls, you could tell that the majority of the people you see here probably share a similar passion and aesthetics, also that they feel like they are in a space where they can express such passion with ease since they know people around them are not going to slap taggings and make assumptions like ordinary people who know little about their subculture. Eventually, my friends all got something they wanted, even if they were looking forward to events that would take place the next day. For me, the vibe of the event has been quite a satisfying experience. It is good to be reminded that there are still gatherings like this here and there where people get to express their passions without worrying too much about judgments from outsiders.

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

11/22/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription part 1

James 1 - 5

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm Jill. today's the 22nd day of November, welcome to each and every one of you that are here who have made an effort and a conscious choice to engage in the scriptures for whatever reason it is that you're here, I pray that God will speak to your heart and you will know the heart of God in a real true and intimate way to think that we can have intimacy a personal relationship with the creator of our being is quite remarkable. we are diving into a brand new book today, it's the Book of James. and if you're not familiar with James, James is no joke. James is not come to play and James does not mince words in any stretch of the imagination so I caution you that if you're really listening to the scripture and you want to catch everything you may have to pause regularly in today's reading before we do that, Jesus I pray that you would soften those hard places in our hearts and our minds that we have grown tallest and ridges and edges that are pointy and sharp and impenetrable and speak to us holy spirit, convict us and changes from the inside out James chapters 1 through 5 reading the New Living Translation. 

Commentary

Finished the entire book of James today, and and I would argue that anything I could say after this would keep in the words of James when they are just so powerful and poignant on their own. I could close my eyes and pick any sentence and any one of these five chapters in The Book of James and give personal stories and examples of doing the opposite of what James says to do, and so I read these words today with great conviction I read these words today with feeling the weight of such words from the brother of Jesus himself that knows endurance first hand by watching what his brother endure that understands the power of belief when people will call you crazy for who and what you believe in. I hear the teaching from a man who watched his brother obey the voice of his father and never bow his knee to appease the opinions of people that he was not even in relationship with. I hear the power and the questioning of why are you catering to the rich to the famous when they already have plenty. why are we treating them with royalty and walking past those in need. I hear the conviction of a brother that says faith without doing anything about it is dead it's not enough to believe unless your belief is active. I hear an essential word of controlling our tongues from a man who watched his brother torn by judgment slander assumption and a slow death that we literally kill people with daily by the words that we choose and the slander and gossip that we participate in. I hear the wisdom of a man who watched his brother lead with humility sent to serve a people and not to overtake a government here the tenderness in a man who knows the importance of intimacy with God the Father I hear the poignant truth of criticizing and judging one another near the gentle reminder of patience and endurance on the Journey of Faith. I hear the suggestion conversation with god especially amidst hardships because no one not a single one of us will escape hardships. finally I hear the beauty in the words for both The Wanderer and the one that brings The Wanderer home if we really listen to this book of James the brother of Jesus yes it smacks us hard as it should conviction is uncomfortable it's the discomfort that causes us to stop consider our actions consider our words and examine ourselves and if we don't like the person that we've been or that we are being, we get a chance to be the person that we want to be, the person that draws people to Jesus, maybe even the person that if somebody has walked away from God because of the hypocrisy of God's people they would see us and not be impressed with Who We Are but they would be impressed by what God has done in us to change us so that we would ultimately draw people to this brother of James, who is Jesus. 

Prayer

so Jesus we thank you for these words today. and as much as they hurt and pinch and sting and convict us, I pray that we would find the Hope in them may that hope give us the endurance to keep going another day another minute knowing that you are with us you never leave us you never forsake us thank you for the space and time of meeting with us here. and I pray this now in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.

[chmerical]

❛   i also buried a part of myself alongside them.  ❜  (from joey for ziggy?)

she's  not  used  to  company,  never  has  been,  but  after nightwing?  well,  friends..no,  not  even  friends,  acquaintances more  like,  were  more  than  sparse.  and  while  there's  that  tight frown  stubbornly  tugging  her  lips  down,  ziggy  berman  can't  help but  be  relieved  at  the  sight  of  a  familiar  face,  if  only  for  a moment.  the  rest  of  the  town  had  written  her  of  as  a  nutcase, someone  desperate  and  looking  for  attention.  as  if  the  redhead would  even  want  anything  like  that.  the  mere  thought  brings out  a  nasty  bit  of  vexation,  a  defensive  wall  she's  put  up  for years  to  avoid  the  judgment,  and  the  hurt  that  comes  from  it.

she  doesn't  know  why  joey  stuck  around  to  talk  to  her,  she doesn't  bother  to  ask,  assumptions  always  win  with  her  anyway. and  she's  so  close  to  ushering  him  away,  slamming  the  door  in his  face  to  hide  away  from  intrusive,  prying  eyes.  but  it's  not until  he's  looking  at  her  with  an  earnest  gaze  with  eyes  that just  get  it,  that  she'll  feel  that  reticence  beginning  to  back  off and,  well..  maybe  a  few  bricks  will  fall,  the  carefully  built  wall weakening  just  a  tad.  and  she  finds  herself  feeling  some  sense of  comfort,  she's  not  alone.  they  both  lost  someone  important that  night.  and  maybe  that  thought  makes  her  heart  hurt  a little  less.  they're  in  her  living  room,  tea  filled  mugs  resting  on her  table,  mismatched  coasters  underneath  them.  baby  blues dart  away  from  him  at  his  words,  her  heart  giving  a  squeeze,  a pang  of  pain  she's  spent  years  numbing  away.  and  as  her  hands reach  for  her  drink,  she  wishes  there  was  something  stronger  in her  mug.  all  she  can  do  is  furrow  her  brows,  taking  a  beat before  bringing  it  to  her  lips,  taking  a  tentative  sip  before bringing  it  back  down,  though  her  hands  will  stay  tightly gripped  on  it.  there's  no  denying  she's  taken  aback,  being  so plainly  seen  will  do  that  to  a  person  after  all,  ❝  speak  for yourself,  slater,  not  like  i  had  much  to  lose.  ❞  and  there's  that damn  temper  of  hers  taking  over,  a  bark  that  almost  makes  her wince.  a  breath,  a  beat,  and  she'll  set  the  mug  down,  eyes decidedly  pointed  down,  ❝  do..  do  you  think  about  them...  it often?  ❞  it's  sincere,  so  much  that  she  can't  bring  herself  to bring  those  baby  blues  of  hers  up  to  meet  his  gaze.  she's stubborn  and  it'll  stay  put,  there's  no  getting  the  redhead  to back  down,  never  has  been  (  though  part  of  her  knows  it's  that shame  from  vulnerability,  and  that's  not  exactly  the  toughest thing,  is  it?  ❝  i..  y'know,  i  thought  it'd  come  and  go  in  waves  at this  point,  but..  well,  ah..  ❞  and  she  has  to  take  a  moment,  as embarrassing  as  it  is,  ❝  it's  a  constant.  ever  since  the  night  it happened.  there's  this...  it's  just  hard.  and  sometimes  i  really don't  know  what  to  do  with  it.  ❞

✱ㅤㅤ@tragicsongs sent in a meme!!

#hI TY FOR SENDING THIS IN #I HAVE MISSED CHRISTINE ZIGGY BERMAN #SFM #;-; #tragicsongs #— ��❛ // ZIGGY BERMAN ¦ for once in your life could you just stop pretending? ・ 「 study ! 」

[prince876]

Guide To Helping Your Loved One Coping With Mental Health Issues

Identifying that your loved one is struggling is seen as the first step to help them. As one knows them inside out, one may be able to figure out how they behave differently. Are they distancing themselves socially? Do they no longer enjoy the things they used to? Have their sleeping or eating habits changed? After noticing something offbeat with them — now what is the next essential step?

Though it may be difficult, showing your loved one support is the key to recovery. Here’s what you can to do help:

Communication is the key

One has to keep in mind that maybe they won’t accept that they require professional help and might push away. They might say they are completely okay and there is nothing to worry about. Make multiple attempts, and try to infer more subtly.

Ask them how are they doing? Have honest conversations with them. One can always start by opening up and telling them how things can be figured out and made easier for them. Ask them open-ended questions like “How are you feeling?” rather than being very direct like “I can see you are feeling very low.” Give the person time to answer without pestering them with too many questions.

Avoid giving advice

It often feels like we need to ‘fix’ them and try to do anything on the earth to make them feel better. It is important to realise that they are not broken, and they do not require any fixing. Secondly, if one indulges in giving them advice, it seems like one is diminishing their struggle and does not believe in their capabilities.

Remember that they are struggling to find a solution, or maybe they are just tired of already trying many things.

Acknowledge their feelings and offer them reassurance

This is one of the most important aspects when talking to loved ones. They need assurance as they feel very overwhelmed. Even if one doesn’t understand why they are feeling this way and what is wrong, don’t question them for what they are feeling. Try to empathise and understand their struggle.

Don’t compare

Many times one starts to talk about personal struggles or someone else who has faced similar situations and how they dealt with them. This might feel like belittling their issues and make them feel like you do not understand. Everyone has different struggles when it comes to mental health. People do not experience anxiety in the same way. Yes, the symptoms are the same, but how one handles it is entirely different.

The experience that you had cannot be compared to the experience that they are having and vice versa. This is why it is vital to acknowledge what they are feeling. One has to try to understand them as different individuals rather than connecting their experience to someone else.

Don’t try to diagnose or second guess their feelings

Don’t try to take matters personally and start googling symptoms and label them without any medical supervision. Try not to make assumptions about what is wrong or jump in too quickly with the diagnosis or solutions.

Read up and gather knowledge about the same

It is okay not to understand what they are going through. Try to read up on the struggles they are facing, not to label them but to figure out a way to be more supportive. Having the support of loved ones during the healing process makes things easier.

Read articles, blogs, listen to videos and podcasts from sources that are credible. If the loved one wants to talk about how they are feeling, what they are experiencing, try to learn from them.

Judgement-free zone

The bottom line is, we all just want to be heard without judgment. Offering them a judgment-free space will help them fully express how they feel. Try to understand their feelings without any judgement and as a new perspective.

When someone is struggling, be there for them, sit with them, listen, do nothing with them, but support them no matter what. Talk out different ways of de-stressing or practising self-care and figure out what they would find helpful. Help them access self-help tools or offer them help in seeking professional support and provide the relevant information on ways to do this. But remember this, do not take control. Allow them to make these decisions.

Keywords: Mental health, safe space, communication, reassurance, professional support, diagnose, decisions, reach out, support, seek help, de-stressing, self-care, validate, support system, advice, diagnosis, cope