#the entire school mourned when they broke up

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

[dallonwrites]

UNTIL HEAVEN - WIP INTRO

matthew lejune / @dallonwrites / ocean vuong / mary ruefle

He knows that his headache is quietly growing vicious and he should take off his headphones, but now they’re singing about Heaven and Las Vegas – two places he has never been – and he knows that at some point, still unknown to him, his father died, and maybe that means he’s now stuck in Heaven or Las Vegas or somewhere in between. Or maybe that means he’ll just be everywhere, in the rain on Felix’s face and the ache behind his eyelids, and that’s how it’ll stay.

Genre: Adult Literary Fiction, novella (please god stay a novella)

Setting: San Francisco/New York, December 1990/January 1991

Vibe: shoegaze & dream pop, warm lighting, ginger flavor, a city skyline at night, going to church for the first time in years, feeling too old and also like you were born yesterday, disposable camera photos, the passing of time, stuff rabbit toy from your childhood, the hallway at a family gathering, planetariums, cold air on your face, retro christmas decor, realising you were once a child and that child deserved so much better

Deals With: parental grief when your parent was a piece of shit, Christian trauma, queerness in relationships, adulthood as you progress through your 20s, healing + building your own life after a traumatic childhood and what happens when that is disrupted

Soundtrack Essentials: The Cure - Plainsong / Mazzy Star - Be My Angel / Cocteau Twins - Cherry-Coloured Funk / Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas / Beach House - The Hours / Jeff Buckley - Dream Brother / Tamino - Cinnamon

Synopsis: When Felix's father dies suddenly it's a week before Christmas, he and Beau had just begun experimenting with an open relationship, and he refuses to interrupt his life to mourn a man who doesn't deserve it. But when he can't stop his body from grieving, and his sister is growing obsessive over the morbid details, and at work he's teaching children that remind him of himself, an opportunity to impulsively leave sees Felix spend an insomniatic month in New York: diners at 3am, trips at the club, a birthday spent in a planetarium, one night stands to tell his boyfriend about in the morning, and a dangerously intense relationship with an enigmatic man who wants to know everything about his father.

This is another piece in my personal project/emotional support series and follows Revelations, Revelations and Lover Boy. If you know me you know Dorothy and Felix are my annoying children who I love so dearly and this novella is paired with a future novella that follows Dorothy during the same time. Fun fact! I only returned to writing because I wanted to explore Felix more and now I have an entire world that dominates my brain and it's all his fault! So this novella is kind of like a love letter to him. I also literally only created this so I could have a project that was soundtracked by historic Cocteau Twins' album Heaven or Las Vegas. Currently drafting because it won't leave my mind

The answering machine beeps awake -- and then, Beau's mother, reminding them that they're in charge of dessert tomorrow --and then, Beau's coworker wishing them both a Happy Holidays, a Stacy who Felix has never met -- and then his sister, sarcastic but loving, This is me calling so you know I made it home alive, just like you asked -- and then surprisingly, Goldie, Hi Felix, even though school broke up weeks ago, So I know it's Christmas, but I wanted to let you know that I talked with Joey's father and it sounds like he's doing much better at home already. He's even excited to come back to your class! And his father sounds super proud and optimistic about his progress and by the end of the last message he’s on the floor, back to fridge and elbows on his knees, face in his hands. And he lets out a shaky, snivelled breath that makes him push his palms harder against his eyes, against the wetness because he can’t cry, not over this, not when there’s still Christmas presents to wrap and last minute laundry so stop crying, get up, put on your new Mazzy Star record and get on with it. He straightens his back, holds his head up, takes a few deep breaths that feel more like gasping for air and also like pulling barbed wire out of his throat, gazes at the slants of streetlight on his living room wall. He can’t cry, not over this and not here, not in the home he’s worked so hard to make so warm. So he sits with himself, wipes his own eyes and holds himself in his own arms; when he feels calm enough, or trusts himself to be, he leans forward so he can open the fridge and reach in for the last ginger ale, cold in his hand and warm down his throat. Just him and the hum of an empty apartment.

#felix's transition from guy who does cocaine in the bathroom to kindergarten teacher is still so iconic to me #the tiny hint at the dorothy sibling novella OMG #wip intro #until heaven #something about this wip intro is so scary to me even though i love this story so much #but i need my wip intros so i can make my pinned post....dropping then going to SLEEP

[palmofafreezinghand]

Since the summer before kindergarten, when Charlie Swan tripped over his two left feet and fell into an unaware Billy Black — changing the course of both their lives forever — the two had only spent one summer apart. 

Nowadays they didn’t speak of the disastrous three months they threw themselves into the arms of others, in the hopes of ignoring the fact their friendship had, without either intending it — in fact both fighting desperately to prevent it — morphed into something that could no longer be defined as merely friendship. 

The two did not speak of the woman traveling through their small town who wore Charlie’s grandmother’s engagement ring for two whole weeks before she broke up with him on a sticky note. They did not mention the woman Billy had grown up with, who he had politely courted through the summer only to lose her to a full-ride scholarship to a school five hours away. 

Shortly after being utterly embarrassed and broken-hearted — although the hurt had not stung quite as much as when they had stormed out of each other’s lives months prior — they bumped into each other in the only bar in town, Charlie tripping over his own two left feet and spilling Billy’s beer over both of them. It was the first time either had laughed in days. 

By the end of the year the two men had pooled every cent to their name and bought a creaky old fishing boat together; it was a reasonable decision, Billy coming from a long long line of fishermen and Charlie having the worst case of sea sickness in history. 

The little ship would disappear into the vast ocean for a week at a time, away from prying eyes and the hushed whispers of shore. When the boat finally sputtered back into port it was full of enough fish to feed the entire town for weeks, they gave most of it away to those who could use it, selling only enough to pay the slip rental and the occasional trip to the laundromat to keep their shared collection of flannels somewhat clean. 

One day a scraggly orange cat wandered on-board, greeting the men on the swim step as they came back from their monthly breakfast at The Lodge. Old superstitions of good luck forced them to keep the stray, arguing only over what to name the thing. They landed on Anchovy. 

The two odd fishermen, and their cat, lived on that dilapidated boat, together, long after they could both afford apartments to themselves. 

They did not mourn the lives they could have had. They lived the one they had never dared to hope for amongst the choppy seas and the constant smell of bait, cursed the fact they had ever spent even one summer apart, and thanked everything they would never be just friends.

#billy black #charlie swan #charlie swan/billy black #this is indirectly the most pathetic edge marquis’ fault because they feed into my obsession of these two #I hope this is readable I wrote late at night and did very minimal edits but I have so many thoughts about these fishermen #if you saw this the first time no you didn’t I got in my head about it deleted it and then decided I did indeed like it

[sweetsweetjellybean]

In the cold November rain Part 4

Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Steve Harrington/Fem!Reader Ao3

TW: Story runs congruent to events in the show. If you know what happens in season 4, then you'll know how this will end.*Be warned.* 18+ Eventually Smut, Angst, High School Fuckery, Drinking, Drugs Let me know if I miss any.

Can you have two great loves in a lifetime?

You've had the ideal childhood in Hawkins with your best friend & protector Steve Harrington. When it's ripped away, can you pick up the pieces? Eddie Munson may be able to help. 

Part 4/12? Masterlist

Sincerest & Eternal Thanks To @loveshotzz A magnificent writer & phenomenal human who sparked my Eddie love. I never would have posted this without her.

Inspired by @loveshotzz & notes by @eddieandbird

That's how you wound up back in the band room. Steve broke your heart and thanks to Carol, the entire school knew. A good portion is likely celebrating your fall from grace. You skip the rest of your morning classes, hiding from everyone, you slide down the cinder block wall behind the balcony set from Romeo and Juliet. Sitting on the cold floor with your knees pulled up to your chest, crying, mourning the loss of your entire world. When you lose one friend, it hurts. When you lose all your friends in a single day, it's devastating. But losing Steve ripped you apart. You’ve never felt so alone. Life without him was never a possibility you had considered. You didn't know who you were without him.

"Of course," you say as Eddie Munson slides down the wall beside you.

"I'm happy to see you too, Princess."

"Are you here to gloat? I'm glad my life-ending circumstances can be a source of amusement for you."

"Don't take your shit out on me. I'm not here to be anyone's punching bag." Eddie warns.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. You're the only one left that will talk to me."

"That's the spirit, Princess. Put me in my place. Make sure I know I'm your last resort." He sets his lunch box on his lap and pops it open.

"God, I really am awful, aren't I?" You rest your head against the wall.

"Eh, you're not so bad." He keeps his eyes on the joint he's rolling. "But this is becoming a habit. Twice is my limit for damsels in distress. If I see you crying again, I might have to do something stupid like kiss you."

"Stop trying to make me feel better." You say, looking at him. "I'm trying to be sad here."

He lights up and inhales. "I'm ready. Tell me the real story. I've heard the rumors."

"You don't believe Jackie?" He laughs and chokes on his smoke.

"Fuck no. I might be dumb, but I'm not a fool."

"I don't think you're either." You give him a little smile. He's watching your face now. It's almost unnerving. It's as if he can see more than you willingly reveal.

"I hope his dick falls off." You turn your head away.

"It might. She's slept with everyone, and I do mean everyone."

Now you're the one looking at him. He raises his eyebrows. "What? I get it where I can, Princess."

"Oh, gross. Don't tell me anymore." You hold your hand up in front of him.

"So what happens now? Are you moving in here? I'm not great with pets. I might not remember to feed you every day?"

"What do you suggest?"

"I'm not going to tell you what to do. You have to figure out your own shit. But if it was me in your situation, I say fuck 'em."

"Fuck 'em?"

"Yeah. Fuck 'em." He waves his fist in the air. "You don't want their pity. Make sure they know they're beneath you." He stands. "Stand up. Come on, stand up. I've got other crying girls waiting for me. You're not special." You take his hand to stand. He wipes the tears of your cheeks and straightens your shoulders. Then pretends to adjust your imaginary crown, which makes you smile. He uses his index finger to gently raise your chin, so your head is high in the air. "There. You're all better." He runs his hand along your cheek. "I'll see you around, Princess."

"Thanks for rescuing me, Sir Eddie...Again."

He drops into a dramatic bow, then turns and heads out the door. "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more."

***

You take a deep breath before entering the lunch room. The people at your usual table don't turn to look at you, refusing to meet your eyes. Except Jackie, of course, she's sitting next to Steve, staring at you with a smug grin. You hold your head high as you walk down the center aisle with your brown bag lunch. You take a seat at the empty corner of the Hell Fire table. Your name is flying around the room in low murmurs. Opening your bag, you pull out your sandwich and unwrap the wax paper. The loud conversation that usually going on at this table has stopped. Your head turns to find Eddie's brown eyes watching you. You hold his gaze, but neither one of you says a word. The corner of his mouth turns up the tiniest bit before he launches back into conversation with friends. You finish your lunch and never look down. Steve never looks at you once. At the end of the day, you open your locker to gather the books you'll need for homework, and a folded piece of notebook paper flutters to the floor. There is a single line written in unfamiliar handwriting.

Fuck 'em

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Part 5

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Tag List: @boomhauer

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.👑

[sepublic]

         I ponder the implications of Eberwolf being absent from this shot, when by contrast, freaking Odalia is present; We know he and Darius are close and practically brothers according to Dana.

         To extrapolate, I guess the implication is that Darius didn’t meet Eberwolf until after he graduated from Hexside, and that Eber didn’t go to Hexside. They probably met while they were in the covens… And speaking of Odalia;

         We know Darius was mentored by the previous Golden Guard, Belos’ right-hand man and presumably Head of the Emperor’s Coven like his predecessors, until Lilith took over and broke the tradition (because Belos realized he needed her to complete his destiny). Amity specifically accuses joining the Emperor’s Coven of being Odalia’s dream… And something led to a sort of fallout, since within the span of seven months, these three went from being best friends, to being on the literal opposite ends of the bleachers for the Emperor’s Coven tryouts; Like, THE very end, as if they unanimously agreed to put as much distance between each other as possible.

         And as I said; It was the tryouts for the Emperor’s Coven. Which Odalia dreamed of joining, but never did? The same coven led by the Golden Guard, whom mentored Darius? And Darius and Odalia had a falling-out, too? I think Darius succeeded, given his clearly prodigal skill –he’s considered quite a contender amongst the coven heads- but Odalia failed, as did Alador. And I think Odalia might’ve gotten jealous of Darius, given what we know; Maybe Alador was, too!

         After all, the Emperor’s Coven tryouts already split Eda and Lilith… I wouldn’t put it past Belos’ system to do this as well. Darius enters Belos’ coven alongside Lilith, and eventually garners the attention of the Golden Guard, being personally taught by him. At some point, Darius attends the Bonesborough Brawl to watch his old friend Alador compete, possibly having participated only to be taken out, either by another competitor or Alador himself, before the final duel.

         But we know that Darius ends up as head of the ABOMINATION Coven… We know he mourned the Golden Guard’s death, so did Belos killing him disillusion Darius, who moved over to the Abomination Coven instead? Did the Golden Guard want to keep Darius away from Belos, and suggested to Darius that his specialization in Abominations was better spent as a Coven Head? Did the Golden Guard plant the idea of how suspicious Belos was in Darius’ mind, and/or his mysterious death sparked Deamonne’s wariness?

         Eberwolf isn’t present at the Bonesborough Brawl that Alador won, nor is Lilith. This does make me wonder if Darius was in the Abomination Coven at the time, and if he never joined the EC at all; Since I speculated Lilith didn’t attend because her one day off hadn’t rolled around yet. Of course, it’s likely that each covenscout has a different annual day off, because if they all shared one, then there’d be an entire solid day of the year in which the entire coven wasn’t working, which of course has problems.

         Going back to Eberwolf, was he also a Covenscout with Darius, and didn’t join because they weren’t friends yet, and/or had different days off? Or did he join the Beastkeeping Coven first? What if Darius convinced Eber to leave the Emperor’s Coven, and/or the Golden Guard did when noticing his not-son had a best friend? We know Eberwolf is willing to follow Darius to the bitter end… They might’ve met as members of the main nine covens, or as Coven Heads. Or maybe they were friends as teenagers, across schools; Which is why Eda doesn’t include Eberwolf in her flashback, because he didn’t hang around Hexside?

         It’s all very curious, and I just wanted to throw this out there. If Darius hadn’t had a falling-out with Alador and Odalia, would he have spoken sense into Alador about founding a weapons company? Not to mention the abusive relationship with his wife, amidst his own neglect of his kids, if it ever got that far? Obviously Alador has his own agency, but it also helps to have a second opinion you can trust, too.

        We know Alador got a signed copy of Darius’ own book on Abominations, made when he was a Coven Head, or at least settled into the aesthetic we recognize today; Between this and the bantering on Penstagram, have the two silently, somewhat forgiven each other? Still a bit too awkward to openly reconnect, but no longer bearing vitriol and having regained some fondness for a bit of cheeky insult, an inviting nostalgia beneath the veil? Did Darius justify it to himself as trying to reach out to Alador, recognizing the Abomatons as something Belos would want to use?

#the owl house #darius deamonne #the owl house eberwolf #odalia blight #alador blight #speculation #analysis

[rothjuje]

I forgot how insanely busy life is up here. January, February, and March are dead months. No one wants to do anything, the skies are grey, it’s too cold to play outside for long. April people start to come alive again, and May is an onslaught of events. There was an entire week where every day I was double-booked, I’m still recovering.

That’s probably the biggest culture shock to me. People think I’m antisocial and weird for not wanting to run from thing to thing to thing all the time. The amount of events and things to do here that everyone else is doing that I’m expected to do is crazy. The people pleaser in me is very quickly learning how to say no. I honestly don’t know how people have the energy to keep up. I think there is a collective burnout up here. People trying to do all the things all the time. I *mourned* when it was time for winter to take over. No one else did, and now I finally get why. Winter is a break from the madness here. And, honestly, I kind of miss it.

There have been so many things rattling around my brain this month that I’ve wanted to process on here, but I’ve been running around all day long and then dealing with 15 chickens in my basement and then promptly passing out from exhaustion.

I love life in New England, it’s a delicious adventure that makes my soul feel alive, but the FOMO is real. It’s a vibe up here. It’s such the culture that today instead of chilling with the kids at home, I took them to some crazy park, and this was without any social pressure, I just felt guilty/weird about relaxing at home because it feels like a sin here.

May 21st of last year was when we first saw this house in person. I remember looking at this house online and getting a weird vibe. I told Justin a few days before our house hunting trip that “there’s a house at the top of our budget in Georgetown but I think we could get it because it’s very dated for the price.” And that is exactly what happened. I am (so) relieved everything happened the way it did. I love Groton but it is so far from the beach and everything else. Plus we’ve made a few good friends in Georgetown and I’m not sure it would have happened so easily in Groton. And the size of our town is perfect, the surrounding towns are a bit too small (no real town center or restaurants) but Georgetown has its own school district, CVS, and several restaurants including Best Bagel which also has the best coffee (we have a DD too but their coffee is no bueno). I don’t think I could go back to living in a bigger town after this, Danvers feels like the city to me and I get panicky whenever I have to go to the Target there, real first world problems over here haha.

The chickens got so big so fast. We ended up with 4 roosters we had to rehome and it broke my heart. We were down to 11 but then I rescued a buff Orpington that was injured from a feed store. I named her Honey and she is the sweetest, smartest bird. I’m obsessed with my 12 ladies (well, 11 ladies and 1 gentleman that I am going to keep), I could watch them all day. They have such an interesting social structure, I had them in 3 separate brooders and all the birds from one brooder would stay together during group time with a very clear pecking order. It was like having 3 separate flocks of birds even though they all hung out for an hour every night. The girls from two brooders were moved to the coop this weekend and the girls are still in two separate groups of 4, they barely interact with each other. I was absolutely desperate to get them out of my basement but of course now that they are outside I am rather sad about it. I’m going to love on my 4 inside still and try not to get any bad ideas like ordering Polish hatching eggs off EBay…

[skz-june]

[ june’s background ]

[ early life ]

Born and grew up in Illinois, United States. June doesn’t share much about her family to keep their privacy, especially her older brother. Based on some things she has said, fans have put together that her parents most likely work in education of some kind. Her family had a cat that she loved dearly that passed away while she was in Korea, when she told fans her cat passed away they all mourned with her as they knew how much her cat meant to her. 

Developed her love for singing and performing from musical theater. There are many young photos of her from when she was in musicals growing up that fans love. You can tell she had theater training from her voice, barely needs a mic to be heard when she sings, and how she creates a persona/character for every comeback to embody for the stages. 

Wasn’t very popular at school and mostly kept to herself. Has even admitted that most of her classmates probably had no idea that she could sing since she did community theater and didn’t talk about it much. She wasn’t even in her school’s choir but instead decided to be in band and played the trumpet. 

June didn’t just audition for one company. Oh no, she auditioned in as many places as possible. She did online auditions and sent as many self tapes to companies as possible. She’s admitted she can’t even remember which tape it was that she sent to JYP. Apparently for one audition she covered an Avril Lavigne song and choreographed her own dance to go with it. 

[ trainee life ]

Was often praised for her voice and the power behind it but struggled with dance. And even when she did dance perfectly the coaches told her she had to work on it more. She danced more like a boy group member than what they wanted for a girl. But June just preferred that style. She had nothing against girl group choreo, but it didn’t fit her.

But they couldn’t deny her talent. That was how Chan heard about her. A trainee who apparently was quiet and a bit of an outsider but the minute she was performing, it was like she was an entirely different person.

At first he just wanted to help a trainee who had a lot of potential but quickly spiraled until Chan realized when he was envisioning his dream group, he was imagining June in there too. 

June didn’t even realize Chan was thinking that, let alone that it was possible until he asked her to be in the survival show. He made sure to emphasize that it would be hard, and only harder for her, but if she was willing to try so was he. She said yes immediately.

[ debut/survival show ]

June made sure to be her best self on the survival show. She was overly-polite to the higher ups and judges, quickly endearing herself to them and to fans. 

A favorite moment was when JYP was grilling her about being the only girl in the group and the issues that could come with that. He mentioned how dating rumors could kill a group and would be even worse in this situation. June let her polite, respectful mask slip at the idea of dating any of her members as a look of disgust covered her face. JYP saw this and laughed and moved on since that situation seemed to resolve itself. 

Fans didn’t realize how hard June had taken Minho and Felix’s elimination until they came back and immediately broke down. She didn’t feel like it was real and had been blaming herself for their elimination. Felix was immediately all over her while Minho (in typical Minho fashion) asked if she was that upset they were back that she was crying over it (He then finally gave in and comforted her too, patting her on the head).

#[ about ] june #[ background ] june #stray kids female member #skz female member #stray kids female oc #skz female oc #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member #stray kids ninth member #skz ninth member #kpop oc #kpop female oc #stray kids #skz #stray kids reactions #skz reactions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction

[mxnkeydo]

love, mom ✧ percy jackson oneshot

✧ summary when sally jackson passes away while helping him on a quest, percy begins to feel more alone than he's ever been, grieving in solitude. upon poseidon's delivery, though, percy finally allows himself to unleash his bundled emotions.

✧ genre angst, sadness

✧ word count 1.36k

✧ warnings a lot of sad, angsty, and depressed thoughts.

✧ link to main masterlist

✧ A/N writing this literally broke me to pieces, i hope ya'll enjoy this oneshot. happy birthday percy! (also pls reblog it would mean the world to me!!!)

***

The beach was calm and serene as Percy waded into the water with his jeans rolled up to his knees. Normally, he’d have brought Annabeth too, but right now he needed to be alone, he needed silence. Mourning his mother wasn’t something he could do with other people around. 

The thing was, no one would know her love the way he did. How she would drop everything in her arms, simply to give him a bear hug every time he came home from boarding school. How she would stuff blue candy into his stocking for Christmas every year without fail. How she had endured the physical and emotional abuse from his former stepfather for years, just to keep him safe. The list was endless, and the mere thought brought tears to Percy’s eyes. She had done so much for him, but when he had the chance to return the favor, he had failed. He would never be at peace with the fact that he had saved the world - twice - but he hadn’t been able to save his mother. He would give anything just to see that million dollar smile again.

But she was gone. Percy could sit at that maple tree all he wanted but it wouldn’t be the same. Because Sally Jackson would be six feet under.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Percy whispered into the salty summer breeze, choking on the words. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

The ocean’s surface glittered under the fading daylight, like the stars had fallen from the night sky. The sky was clear of any clouds, glowing with a cerulean hue. The water’s constant ‘shhh’ used to be like a soothing lullaby, but now it just made him more restless than ever. Percy didn’t understand how the world could be so beautiful when his mother, the most badass, the funniest, the kindest woman to ever exist, was dead.

That ‘shh’ grew louder and louder until it filled his head. A gentle wave splashed against his legs and receded back into the depths of the waters. Percy looked down, and with furrowed brows, picked up the letter floating at his feet. 

As he turned it over in his hands, the envelope dried off so the sentence on the back was legible:

To Percy, my entire world, my everything.

Without a doubt, the letter was sent from his father, Poseidon, god of the sea. But the words were in his mother’s handwriting. His hands wavered as he tore the envelope open, revealing the coffee-colored paper inside.  He wasn’t exactly sure if he was mentally prepared to read it, but with a deep breath, he unfolded the paper:

My dearest Percy,

I pray that this letter never reaches your hands, that your father will destroy it after your successfully completed mission. I’m hoping you’ll never have to read this letter, because I’ll most likely be dead.

But if you are reading this, Percy, know that I was the proudest mother to ever live. Ever since the moment I held you in my arms, I have been more proud than you’ve ever known. Percy, you have done many great things in such a short lifetime; you’ve gone through two great wars, you’ve survived through the darkest of times, and you have fought for everyone you love. I am not only proud to call you my son, but in awe that you have accomplished so much.

It was like his mother was right next to him, whispering into his ear as she held him close. Percy didn’t even notice he was crying until his teardrops splattered onto the letter. He didn’t bother to wipe them away and kept reading:

Percy, I know you; I am your mother, after all. I know you’re probably beating yourself up about my death. You know I’m right.

Percy couldn’t help but let out a choked laugh; it was true, Sally knew him too well and they both knew it.

Please remember that I am the one that insisted on helping you, even when you protested against it. If there’s anyone to blame for my demise, it is me. You have done nothing wrong. 

And there it was. That was the sentence that had Percy sobbing horrible, choppy, heartbroken sobs. That was the sentence that broke him entirely. He gripped the letter like it was life or death, his hands shaking more violently than ever. His eyes were so blurry from the wall of unshed tears that he could barely read.

You have done nothing wrong.

No one knew better than Percy how refreshing it was to hear those five words after years of thinking he screwed up. Not once in his life had anyone said those words to him. Not until now.

You have done nothing wrong.

Percy gulped and moved on to the next paragraph:

Percy, I don’t want you to cry. Wipe away your tears. When you think of me, I want you to remember all the good times we spent together. Remember how we went on an entirely blue diet just to spite Gabe? How, every summer, we’d go down to Montauk and talk all night in that cabin? When you think of me, I want you to smile, not cry. I hate seeing you cry. It’s the worst feeling for a mother, you know that?

What’s worse is losing the most important person in your life, he thought desolately. Still, he wiped away the hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

Percy, listen to me. I want you to live your life to its fullest. Go to college with Annabeth, make new friends, get married, have kids. There is a reason I named you Perseus. He was the only hero to get a happy ending. I wish the very same for you.

Take care of your sister for me, Percy. Sometimes, I used to watch you play with her, rock her to sleep in your arms while you sang a little lullaby. I know you will be the best big brother ever to her. The way she looks at you, like you’re her hero – it warms my heart. Be good to Paul, too. Don’t let him get too hung up over my passing. Tell him to move on. And you move on too, Percy. Do not be angry with the gods for not preventing my death. Do not be angry with yourself. It is not anyone’s fault but my own. Move on, and all I ask is you remember me from time to time, as I will think of you too. 

Percy’s hand flew to his mouth. Before, he was only in shock that his mother was gone, but this letter made it seem much more real. He felt like he was grasping for something that didn’t exist.

I love you, Percy. I love you so, so much, more than you will ever know. I will be watching over you as you grow, and no matter what, I will always be with you in spirit. Be brave, be strong, and be kind, Percy. I know you will achieve great things. 

Love, Mom.

Percy didn’t care whether he got strange looks or not; he burst into messy sobs again, trembling. He lost track of time as he wept for the woman who had sacrificed so much, too much, just for his well being. He wept for the Sally Jackson-shaped hole he had in his life, and for the fact that no one else would be able to fill it. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed until he felt the warmth of his girlfriend’s arms around his neck and he looked up in surprise, his eyes still swimming with tears. Annabeth’s eyes were red and puffy too, he noticed, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her close, and gripped the letter in the other. Percy took in deep breaths of the familiar salty air as he looked up to the darkened sky.

There, he saw a crescent moon. It was like a smile, Percy thought. Maybe his mother was smiling down on him. Percy hugged Annabeth tighter as he breathed,

“I love you too, Mom.”

#pjo #percy jackson #sally jackson #angst #death #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #birthday oneshot #birthday #we love a lil angst don't we #who am i kidding this is a lot of angst-

[oo-hazel-oo]

tw: gun violence (this is a long and detailed discussion of gun violence, so please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable!)

i don’t normally talk about this kind of stuff on here, but i’m frustrated and sad and am hoping that some people who read this will find it helpful. if you don’t have time to read, then feel free to skip to the last three paragraphs which contain the big takeaways from all this.

i grew up in a city that many people refer to as the “murder capital” of the united states and that has one of the highest rates of gun-related homicides in the entire country. i heard my first gunshot when i moved to the midwest at age 10 and i couldn’t tell you how many i’ve heard since then.

during the first few years of high school, we had annual 'intruder' drills, where we'd turn off the lights, close the blinds, and huddle in a corner until the teachers told us we could stop. after the parkland shooting in 2018, they started calling them 'active shooter' drills and we had them twice as often. our teachers stopped telling us to hide in a corner of the classroom and instead encouraged us to break the windows and run, do anything in our power to save ourselves if something ever happened.

over the years, there were a few public safety scares that caused our building to be locked down, but i found that the majority of the gun violence that affected our school manifested in ways that i wasn’t prepared for in the slightest. i had a classmate come to school with an untreated gunshot wound. i would see my friends wearing handmade shirts featuring the collaged images of relatives who’d fallen victim to gun violence. even since graduating, three former classmates have passed away after being caught in the crossfire of our country's gun epidemic. there were no drills or prep courses to teach us how to deal with the effects of that.

one the most horrible encounters with gun violence that i have personally experienced happened when i was sixteen. i was attending a neighborhood memorial for a five year old boy who had gotten ahold of his parents’ gun and sadly sustained an accidental and fatal gunshot wound. halfway through the memorial service, which was taking place in a local park, we heard gunshots come from down the street and everyone had to leave behind their candles, flowers, and teddy bears to sprint to safety. the gun violence in my neighborhood had gotten so bad, that we weren’t even able to mourn its victims anymore.

i’m bringing this all up because earlier today, i was scrolling through instagram and was surprised to see my city on a CNN headline. there had been a school shooting at the high school a few blocks away from my old house and it had left 3 people dead and at least 6 people seriously injured. hearing the news broke my heart.

i am currently living in the u.k. and it’s hard to describe to my european friends, most of whom have never been directly impacted by gun violence, why i jump when a heavy dumpster lid is slammed shut, or why i feel the need to sprint if i see a crowd of people running. my friends here will sometimes joke about the u.s. being full of gun-toting, trigger-happy texans, but that is just one caricature of our gun violence epidemic and does not capture the diverse experiences that so many of us have grown up with (and a psa to those who have never been impacted by gun violence — please try to avoid throwaway comments like the one above — gun violence is not a joke).

all this being said, to anyone who has read the news today and is impacted by what’s going on, please take care of yourself and your community. it’s okay to log off if you need to <3

and to all of those who want to channel their frustration into action, remember that the november 8th midterm elections are coming up and this is sadly one of the ONLY ways we can work to prevent further tragedy and fight for better gun control legislation in the u.s. if you’re american, register to vote. if you are an american and won’t be in town on election day or are living abroad, YOU CAN STILL VOTE. and registering is just half the job. make sure you head to your polling place on election day to honor that commitment. research your candidates, check which organizations they give their money to, and which give money to them. there are so many NRA-backed candidates that need to be voted out! keep an eye out for endorsements from people/groups doing the good work. send letters to your local, state, and national representatives. protest. share your own experiences. be there for those who are most impacted (these are ways everyone can help, not just americans!!)

obviously gun violence is not the only issue that is important for the upcoming election, but it’s the one that’s hurting me, my friends, and family the most today.

#tw: gun violence #gun violence #gun control #midterm elections #hazel rambles

[lostonehero]

Micheal YouTube time again this time serious talk

Aka a one-sided therapy session

Tw

Child neglect

Child death (obviously)

Unplanned pregnancy (mentioned)

Micheal wasn't in the mood for this livestream. He wasn't in the mood to entertain others. He wanted freedom. He wanted to not be a monster. He was on the tipping point of breaking down or breaking something.

The chat scrolled by, and a question caught his eye.

"What was your childhood like?"

And that broke the floodgates.

"My childhood? Well, my birth almost ruined my father's career and my mother's chance at being a star. I was an accident, something unwanted, they reminded me often enough that it would have been so much better if they could have gotten rid of me. I mean, my earliest memories were glares and refusals to help me with anything." He pulls his hat down against his face and gives a heavy wheeze of a sigh through the stitching around his mouth.

"My sister is 6 years younger than me, and she was perfect. My brother a year later was the son they always wanted. I was 10 when my sister went missing, and 14 when I did that to my brother." He throws down his hat in frustration.

"I never asked to happen, I never asked to be born. My father doted on my sister and took my brother to be his mini me in training. Mother loved to dress my sister up and show her off. I was just a babysitter for when they were both too busy. Oh, how I was punished if anything happened to them." He gets up from his chair pacing in and out of frame.

"You know the thing that got my sister killed was something my father built, and I was blamed for not keeping an eye on her. He built that damn robot for her, and it ended up killing her. It's my fault because she wasn't supposed to be left alone, and I had to follow her around." He stops messing with his gloves.

"I was a kid too... I mourned her like them, or whatever my kid mind could grasp as mourning. Do you have any idea how often I looked for her? I didn't know she was dead. Father would always punish me for going out to search. Mom, well, mom never said anything to me." He sighs, returning to his chair.

"My father didn't take the news well, and well, that's when he went against Uncle Henry.... in 4 years, I did something incredibly stupid to lash out and got my damn brother killed. I spent an entire month in the hospital with him begging for him to recover, just so I could selfishly apologize. Man, I only finished school after that to please my parents. It didn't exactly go well."

He taps his fingers on his leg. "Mom ended up drinking herself into an early grave, and well, you know what my father did to cope. I foolishly thought hey, Father finally asked you to help, and he found your sister, so of course you should go help him." He stops and looks down.

"You know she's the reason why I'm like this... I thought I was helping her. She tricked me."

His voice gets ghostly quiet. "I just wanted to be the good son he always wanted."

He frowns flicking off the livestream without warning.

#fnaf #micheal afton #scooped michael #william afton #five nights at freddy's

[peppermintquartz]

Today while I was in the middle of wrapping books in clear plastic (I'm a school librarian), I thought, I'm a failure.

What achievements have I to show for forty years on this planet? I have friends and a family that I love and love me. I have three fairly well-behaved cats. I have an apartment with my partner.

But I'm nothing much more than a dreamer, hoping to make it big as a writer. Yet all I have written is a novel and several assessment books (basically, students will use the exercises and drills within to assess themselves, or more likely, home tutors will use the books to give students more homework) and a lot of fanfic.

Nothing that shouts "AK is a runaway success!!"

And I was thinking, how good and easy life would be if I could be satisfied with a life without an imagination. I would keep doing the full-time job I previously had, and by now I'd probably be middle management if I'd stayed the course. I would be tired but I wouldn't have anything else to do but my work anyway. No dreams of anything other than taking holidays during the school holidays.

Just a simple life, doing simple tasks, going through a routine week in week out.

An imagination is a burden in a world that doesn't value it. I mean, look around. What future does a storyteller have? I have nothing to look forward to. Better to go back to my old job and just. Give up on creating.

Just be a dutiful contributor to the machine.

Just.

Exist.

And then I put on my music. Songs of mourning the past came up first. Songs of missing someone.

I imagined I was saying goodbye to the Me that wants to be a professional writer. The Me who has always known that she is meant to tell stories. I imagined letting that version of Me go, away towards a distant horizon.

Goodbye. It was nice knowing you and loving you for a while.

When I was wallowing in the worst of my feels, Beyond came up in my playlist. I sang along, because of course you sing along to Beyond when they come up on your playlist, and one of the lines in the chorus suddenly hit me like a sack of hammers.

"Turning back on your dreams/is something anyone can do"

I cracked. I broke. I shattered.

Who was I trying to fool?

There is no way. There is no way I can let go of the Me that creates entire worlds out of nothing but thought. I can as soon remove my own brain in its entirety. I can as soon distill my soul into a beaker and weigh it.

I am fortunate. I know my purpose. I'm here to share stories, in whatever way and form I can. And even if my purpose won't give me fame or fortune, I am not searching for a reason to live; I have one.

I have the second part of Rilt's story to tell. Liria's schemes have yet to unfold fully. Dessa has yet to find her power. Galena hasn't got married.

Saki will have to start the hunt for her twin's daughter. Ma'irei needs to meet the love of his life. Arrow has yet to repay his life debt. The Marat have yet to make their presence known.

Leng Xiang has not avenged her son. Du Kuang has not found forgiveness. Situ Mengjian needs to see the truth about the man he loves.

Li Xiuying has yet to come up with her harebrained scheme to swap places with her best friend at a crucial juncture. The Changs need to reconcile. Su Yuming and Qiu Yannan have a standing appointment. Mei and Song have to find their new loves.

Who else but me knows about the soul-deep bond between Zerrul and Deel? The fate of Evvas Alwyth? Why Kirzan is determined to plow ahead with his stupid plan? Why is Dagger loyal? Why does Wolvam choose to take on such a burden?

I hold all these worlds and all these people within me. I have a duty.

#personal life

[freebooter4ever]

So im still exhausted. I keep making dumb mistakes and doing stupid shit like leaving charging cords at work or at home. My coordination is gone, im tripping and knocking into things. My eyes feel sore??? All i want to do anymore is lie down and try to sleep. :/

I think i was running on pure adrenaline last week...and now that 'panic' mode is done my body is paying me back for all the stress. :( i barely slept the entire time i was traveling, i regularly drove for like 10+ hrs on next to no sleep which...yeah. I know. Dangerous. The constant tension of whether or not snow was going to make my next route passable, and worry over keeping other people's schedules. And then to get to my grandparents house and to find out they're not moving till may and the 'end of march' deadline was an arbitrary schedule that didnt actually matter. Im not mad, i cant be mad at them they're moving which is stress enough, im just...mourning my exhaustion and inability to function lol. Had they let me wait even one more month the snow and the insane storms would have been gone.

Anyway, just thinking about that feeling of 'safety' or 'comfort' and how precious a thing it is for me (and my sleep) . After my anxiety started growing worse it takes a LOT for me to feel 'safe' with someone or somewhere. My italian grandparent's house would be one, nick's sister's house would be another. And then my friends house in the mountains of oregon, who are just the kindest, most generous people. The two nights i spent there were literally the only times i slept last week.

Back in the fall of 2018, six months after grandpa died and still unemployed, i helped grandma travel by train to ohio, flew back to seattle, stayed with sanjeev for a week ish, and then started south to los angeles because i literally couldnt think of anywhere else to go. And these friends in oregon - they were off traveling at the time - let me stay in their house for over a week. I was so scared about the future, i was still grieving and feeling like a total ghost, still processing my dad's very friendly comment (when i asked him why he hadn't offered to let me stay in his house after i flew back from ohio) about how if i couldn't afford to house myself i deserved to be homeless.

(honestly that wasn't even the part that bothered me - i knew that about my dad from the time when i was a kid and he would point out homeless people to me and jokingly say 'that will be you as an artist!'. Instead of instilling fear in me though this backfired and all my charity work in high school dealt with homeless shelters lol. But no, the part that bothered me was how he tacked another comment onto the end - that life 'couldn't go back to how it was'. THAT was when i broke down crying in front of him because i think stupid me still genuinely believed that if i moved back to seattle my dad would go back to being my best friend and it'd be us against the world again.)(i saw him for five minutes in sac last week - he refused to even have lunch with us)

Instead in 2018 i was anchorless, emotionally disconnected from reality, and instead of comdemning me like everybody else in my family, my friends were like 'dont worry about it, the house is empty, please use it.' And i did! I was nervous at first. But then i started exploring the area - went to a bunch of state parks out in the middle of nowhere hidden in the high desert. Ended up LOVING one of them and collected those tacky tourist maps and just scribbled all my observations and tips on the best roads to drive/things to do/see onto the margins. And i collected all the brochures and compiled a kind of guide, and left it on the counter just in case my friends hadn't found that particular area to explore yet. And sure enough, they hadn't! To this day they still talk about how happy they were to have all these suggestions and things to see, and how that particular area is now one of their favorite places to visit. So what im saying is that's the only place i got any rest last week. Also those pancakes. I need to make those pancakes.

Anyway i'm just so fucking tired, man. This is the second 'vacation' where i've come back more exhausted than when i left, i think i need to do something differently. (also fuck you dad, five years in LA and not homeless once)

#Journal shit #When i was stuck on the grapevine for two hours #I had a sudden memory of nick and i driving in the dark #See he was new to pittsburgh and by that point i was old hat #After the hell year 2011 i spent most of my free time driving alone around the city trying to get myself lost and unlost in the corners #with the window rolled down and the freezing numbing breeze the only thing that would make the scars on my face feel normal #Like that city is BEAUTIFUL at night #And nick he liked talking in cars #I mean he liked doing other things in cars too but mostly it was the talking #Like deep conversations talking #And since i knew the roads and i had the zippy tiny blue teardrop of a car vs his giant ass truck #I did the driving #And so many times under a street light i would catch him staring at me with a strange face #And i would get all embarrassed and he'd just shrug and say he liked looking at me with that stupid smile of his #No one before or since has ever looked at me like that #I have done road trips with a fair number of people now #But nothing ever like that #Of course i was also looking at him whenever he was driving #He hated the camera so much but the only photos i have of his face are of him driving his truck through the snow in the laurel highlands #Near that one fishing cabin his family used lmao #Im glad being alone gives me more time to spend with friends but sometimes i wish... #NOT with nick god no i have officially given up on that but #Something similar

[thoughtsofafruit]

Can we please talk about grief?

Tw: Grief, parent loss, mentions of mental health issues

Look, I'm starting to see more accurate representations of grief in media but so often is shown in such an unrealistic way that makes my skin crawl and sometimes that bad representation makes me feel like I'm in the wrong for how I've experienced grief.

My mum died when I was five. It sucked. It still sucks. It will always suck. I know that, anyone who has a similar experience knows that. Yet sometimes I'll pick up a book and boom parent dies, completely over it in three days or a week or some insane shit.

I'm eighteen now. I spent my entire time in school after my mum died being bullied in some form or another. I had to move schools in the middle of the school year, I lost my closest friends, and every single thing in my life was different. The only thing that has actually felt consistent in that entire time is grief.

In books, grief is something you can get over, something that fades. In real life its not.

I'll be going about my day and suddenly I'm bombarded with this deep longing for my mum. It happens for no reason, it happens when I see happy families, it happens all the time, and its been happening for the last fourteen years.

I'm writing all this out right now because I was hit by that sudden and dreaded thought, 'what would my mum think of me now?' And I need a place to vent about grief. What better than the black hole of the Internet?

I was once told 'you need to get over it' in reference to my grief for my mum. And to that I say, fuck you, you heartless bitch.

Grief doesn't go away. It stays, it hovers around the edges. You get better at dealing with it, sure, but its still there. You don't just stop missing someone who you had for so long and was suddenly gone from your life.

Grief shows in strange ways. Some of my most common thoughts are

Would she be proud of me?

What would she think of me?

Am I living up to her expectations?

Am I too much like her?

Am I the kid she wanted me to be?

These thoughts suck.

When your young and your mum is freshly dead and everyone around you is still mourning and just as hurt they'll tell you she'd be proud they'll tell you she'd love you. But when your 18 and trying your damn fucking hardest to find a way to live and still be yourself, no one tells you those things.

Grief haunts. Grief is the ghost in the corner of the room and grief is the monster stalking you.

You learn to live with you, you learn to move on around it. But you're never the same.

I broke at five, and I've never been me since. I'm still me, just not the me i would be if my mum was still alive.

That side if grief is never shown in media and it fucking sucks. I'm never gonna pick up a book with a character whose parents are dead and read a scene that so perfectly encapsulates that pain. That sudden, 'god what would she think of me now?'. That side of grief is so often left behind.

I've been to a grief counciling sort of thing and a lot of it was geared to getting over grief not learning to life with it. This course was specially aimed at kids who lost a parent. Imagine that, being young, clearly depressed and you're sent to a place for grief even though your mental health issues aren't connected to the grief, not anymore, and every last thing is aimed at getting over it.

They, being my school guidance team, sent me there to help and it made it worse! Because there i was, eight, nine, years after my mum had died nkt yet over it and all these people around me whose parents had more recently and all the advice was geated towards getting over it.

Grief isn't something you get over! And I'm fucking sick of it being portrait that way. My grief is part of me now, I've learned to live with it.

Sure, sometimes ill still cry myself ti sleep missing my mum. But thats fine because I was five and my mum was my closest person and she was ripped from me. One day I had here, the next I didn't. I'm going ti spend the rest of my life missing her. And that is ok. It is so ok.

In short, I'm yet to see grief shown in media in an accurate way, I'm yet to receive grief counseling that isn't about getting over it, and I'm yet to see other people talk about how grief actually is for them.

#grief #parent loss #mum #ranting #vent post #sort of #look #im pissed off and sad #i needed ti get everything out #thoughts of a fruit

[alovesongshewrote]

Is There a Doctor on this Plane? (Yes, yes there is.) - P2 | Eddie Munson x Reader

Plot:  Eddie faces the consequences of his run into danger, and you, a med-student, stay by his side. Or you try to. You do need to eat. [Eddie Munson x Gender Neutral!Reader] Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word count:  3,281

Warnings:  SPOILERS FOR STRANGER THINGS SEASON FOUR, VOLUME 2. hospitals, nightmares, horror elements, reader experiences mild hallucinations

Disclaimer 1: Uh, yeah, fuck netflix, and fuck whoever came up with having a "stranger things experience" in a former n*zi prison where jewish and romani people were exterminated. that's an incredibly fucked up thing to do, and i do not support or endorse it.

Disclaimer 2: I know we have fun here reading self insert fics about eddie munson the fictional character, but for the love of god do not go to his actor's house. i doubt anyone in my particular audience would get up to that shit, but still, it's worth saying.

Tags: @twistedhistory

Hours after you escaped the Upside Down, you were behind the wheel of Steve’s car. You were also in an entirely different state. And you were in a hospital parking lot. Eddie was in said hospital, Dustin was back in Hawkins, and you? You were alone.  

That really wasn’t a good thing to be.  

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Eddie’s lifeless body lying in Dustin’s arms. You had to remind yourself that he was alive, that you had saved him, but it really wasn’t working out. All you could think of was his ribs cracking beneath your hands. All you could remember was the moment you realized his pulse had stopped. All you could see was Dustin, a child, weeping over the bloodied body of his friend because you had failed them.

You saw it happen, over and over and over again. You were so, so tired of it. You had no peace. Even when you slept all you saw was Eddie suffering and Dustin crying. All of your failures were painted out before you, and there was no escape.

What’s more, you were kind of pissed at Eddie. You didn’t want to be pissed at Eddie- what he did was brave, and he was a hero, and you loved him- but that was all part of it in the end. You loved him. You needed him. And you weren’t the only one who did. He had friends and loved ones, he had a life, and a future, and he was willing to give up on all of it for a few minutes of extra time that you weren’t sure anyone actually needed. You were so angry, and so hurt, and you felt like it was your fault- like you didn’t do enough to stop him.

It was too much. Your feelings were tearing you apart, ripping into you like the demobats had just hours before. Guilt ate at your ribs, anger mauled your heart to pieces, and grief threatened to consume every part of you.

 So, you rolled up the windows of Steve’s car, and you screamed until your throat was raw. You sobbed, mourning loudly and angrily. You hit the steering wheel over and over again, taking your aggression on a very undeserving car. You broke down, and you broke down hard, and when you were done, you just felt empty. Tired. Lonely.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself now. Eddie was safe with professionals more experienced than you. Dustin was safe with everyone else in Hawkins. Your own injuries had been checked over, and you had been discharged. What else could you do?

You felt lost- so, so fucking lost. And it made you think of your high school graduation of all things.

In your senior year, you weren’t sure what you were going to do with your life. You had ambitions, aspirations, but you were too much of a coward to consider them seriously. It was Eddie who had encouraged you to leave Hawkins. He wanted you to achieve your goals. He wanted you to succeed. He wanted you to do what he couldn’t and run like hell out of Hawkins. And you did.

You remembered the day your admission letter came in from your first choice university- he was more excited than you were. If you remembered correctly, he literally jumped up and down. You thought it was adorable, honestly, so, of course, you laughed at him. In retaliation, he pulled you up from your desk and made you get excited with him- and once you had, he teased you gently. His eyes were bright, and his laugh and his smile were blinding, shining like gold in your memories.

You remembered the day you graduated, where, once again, he was more excited than you. That night, you really couldn’t leave each other alone. While the rest of the graduating class went out to parties and social celebrations, you and Eddie had your own little party involving several movies and a teensy bit of underage drinking. You fell asleep leaning against him that night, with your head on his shoulder and his arm around your waist.  

You remembered the day you left Hawkins. He helped you pack. He reassured you when you started to doubt yourself. He helped you move your things into your car. When that was done, he found you standing in your empty room, staring at the now barren walls.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“I am. Or, I think I am, it’s just,” you turned to face him, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m flattered, sweetheart. Aaaaabsolutely flattered,” he crossed the room until he was standing in front of you, and he gently cradled your face in his hands, “But you’ve gotta leave the Shire now, little hobbit. It’s your time.”

“Hey!” you laughed, pulling away from his hold, “I am not a hobbit!”

“Mmm, are you sure about that?”

“I am not a hobbit, you dick!”  

He gasped, throwing himself back with a hand over his heart, “You wound me, you foul hobbit creature!”

“You little- get over here!” you smacked him on the arm a few thousand times until you were both laughing your asses off. Of course, you didn’t really hurt him, but that didn’t stop him from complaining.

“Ow, ow! You’re gonna leave bruises. What are your hands made of? Steel?”

“Mithril, actually,” you said with a smirk. Your smile was quick to fall, though, as you took Eddie in for what you knew would be one of the last times for a long while.

“Hey,” he asked, reaching out and poking your face, “What’s wrong, (L/N)?”

“I-” you cut yourself off, trying to choke down the tears that, to your horror, were springing to your eyes, “I’m just gonna miss you.”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be a doctor or something? I thought you were smarter than that.”

You pouted at him, giving his arm another whack. He laughed at you, but his voice changed from teasing to comforting in an instant, “What I mean to say is, everything’s gonna be okay, okay? It’s not like this is goodbye forever. You’ll come back and visit, and you’ll be an awesome doctor who fixes sprained bones-”

“You know it’s broken bones.”

“Do I? I mean, I’m not the doctor here, so-”

“Oh, shut up.  Y’know, you’re gonna regret teasing me one day,” you for the door, casting a glance his way, “Walk me out, would you ”

He did. He walked you out of your house, and kind of walked you out of his life for the next two years. He missed you, of course, and you missed him. But Eddie really believed that it was for the best that you escape Hawkins. You had bigger and better things to do with your life than stick around and wait for him.

And yet, that was exactly what you were doing. You were sitting in Steve “the Hair” Harrington’s car, in a hospital parking lot, and you were waiting for him. It was almost funny how much he would hate that. How much he would hate you sitting idle, doing nothing, waiting for him.  He would hate how much effort you’d gone through to save him. He would hate how much you loved him, if he knew.  After all, it was him- HIM.  He never thought he was worth it, but you always did.  

So, you waited. You waited, and you promised yourself that you would never leave him again.  

You did need to eat though. And shower. You still had Upside-Down juice all over you, after all. With a shaky breath, you started the car and went back to the dorm room that you’d left Eddie for in the first place. The dorms were relatively abandoned, your university peers taking off for the break so that they could relax, have some fun, and maybe see their loved ones. That had been your plan once.  

It was almost funny how quickly things had changed. Instead of relaxing, the boy you’d pined for years was almost instantly accused of a murder he didn’t commit. Instead of having fun, you had to fight monsters in an alternate dimension. And as for your loved ones? I feel like that question answers itself.

The door to your dorm room opened with a creak. You took a few steps in before you practically melted to the floor in a puddle of anguish. You didn’t have any more tears left in you that night, so you kind of just laid there, empty. You barely had the strength to get up and shower, and once you did, you instantly collapsed into bed. You were drained. You were done. You just needed a nap. You drifted off slowly, your eyes fluttering shut as your mind finally fell to darkness and peace.  

Obviously, that didn’t last.  

When you opened your eyes, you were back there, in the Upside Down. The air around you was freezing, and filled with those fucking particles that got stuck in your hair. You tried to take a step forward, but you found that you could not move your feet. You were stuck, frozen solid in the middle of this hell dimension.

You could hear coughing- someone choking on their own blood as they tried to gasp out their last breaths. It was the sound of a dying man. The sound was sick, wet, and at first, faint. Then, as the world around you flickered, it grew louder, louder and louder until it surrounded you. You could practically feel the desperate gasps in your chest. Your throat hurt as if you were the one choking. When you finally gained the mobility to look down, your body was covered in blood.  

His blood.

You gasped. The noise was sharp and hard, and it silenced the world around you- but only for a moment.  

The next sound you heard was the cracking of bones.

His bones, beneath your hands, snapping and giving way to the force you applied as you tried to save his life.  Your bones, snapping and bending as punishment for something- for failing him.  You’d failed him, you’d let him die, and as your mouth filled with the taste of blood, you remembered his lifeless eyes burning into yours.

And then, you didn’t have to remember.

Then, his body was on the ground in front of you, lying broken and dead, slowly rotting away as you watched. You didn’t have to remember because your brain wouldn’t let you forget.

Your breath came harder, faster, as you watched the face of the man you loved dissolve before you. Your heart raced as his skin split, revealing blood and sinew beneath it. A panic attack hit you as you watched him die, again and again.  

The screeching of those goddamned bats filled the air as you fell to your knees. You wanted to scream with them, but your voice simply refused to work. Instead, your body was racked with silent sobs as you dealt with the fallout of your failures. You could hear his voice in your head- his last words, his cries of pain, all of it.

It killed you inside, and you let it, and even when your eyes snapped open and you finally woke up from that wretched nightmare, you could still hear him.

You didn’t manage to fall asleep again that night.

When the sun rose, you just kind of glared at it before pulling yourself out of bed and forcing yourself to get ready for the day. You looked a little worse for wear, but quite honestly, you couldn’t be paid to give a shit. You had things to do.

The first thing was to get breakfast. You hadn’t eaten the night before, and somehow, your nightmare hadn’t destroyed your appetite. You were almost impressed with yourself on that front.

The second thing you had to do was figure out a way to contact Dustin and everyone else back in Hawkins. Primarily, you wanted to make sure that they were okay, and that they knew you and Eddie were alive. You also assumed that Dustin and Eddie’s uncle would either want more details on Eddie’s condition, or they’d want to venture out for a visit. Either way, you needed to communicate with them for that to work. You knew vague things about Dustin’s whole “Cerebro” project, but you weren’t sure how it functioned. If Eddie was awake, you would’ve asked him, but he wasn’t, and you were still alone. You knew your roommate had left some kind of radio/walkie-talkie thing in your dorm. You turned it on and left it that way, just in case. You were really just throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping for the best with that one, but at this point, when were you not?.

The last thing you had to do was actually check on Eddie. You kind of dreaded that part.  

The hospital smelled like chemicals and cleaning products. Honestly, you weren’t sure what else you expected. The walls and floors were a blinding white. Fluorescents flickered slightly, lighting the building in an unsettling way. The air was chilled, which only served to remind you of the nightmare you had the night before. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

The hallways felt impossibly long- as if they stretched out past oblivion and into nothingness. Part of you wished that you could just follow them into the void, but you couldn’t. You had something more important to do.

You hesitated before you pushed open the door to Eddie’s room. You were illogically scared of what you would find behind it, kind of expecting to see a corpse lying in the hospital bed. The sad thing is, you weren’t far off.

Eddie looked like absolute shit. Dark bags had formed under his eyes. His already pale skin was borderline translucent. Dark bruises outlined his face and covered his arms. Red stitches glared at you from his pale skin. He was plugged into a billion tubes. Each of the tubes served a purpose- each one of them kept him functioning. The heart monitor at his side beeped at a constant rhythm. His chest moved slowly, up and down, and up and down, and up and down again. He was alive. You knew he was alive. Everything told you he was alive.

But if you didn’t know better, you could’ve mistaken him for a dead man. A corpse waiting to be wheeled off to the morgue. He looked so fragile like this. Weak, almost.  It felt wrong.

The nurses and doctors had done an excellent job of patching him up, a job that was far beyond your capabilities, but it still hurt so much to see him like this. It felt like it was your fault, and it felt like it was his, and you were just so tired, and so angry, and so empty, and before you knew it, you were in tears.

You weren’t sure if he could hear you crying, but you knew that if he could, this would be a special kind of torture for him. Hearing you cry, knowing that he caused it and there was nothing he could do about it? Honestly, he’d probably rather die. Sucks to be him, I guess.

You sighed, and all but collapsed into a shitty hospital chair near his bed, “You’re a huge asshole,” you whispered, “You know that, right?”

He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. You continued anyway.

“You almost fucking died on me. And on the kid. That’s a dick move, Munson, even if you did help save the world. He’s gonna carry that with him for the rest of his life, y’know? And Steve, Nancy, Robin, they all saw what kind of shape you were in, they aren’t gonna forget that. And I- I’m-” your voice threatened to break, “Well, you don’t need to know that, do you?”  

You paused before continuing, “You’re safe now, by the way. So is the kid. Dustin’s in Hawkins, and you are not there because I’m not in the mood to see you get your ass handed to you by an angry mob. I rolled a metaphorical nat twenty saving you last time, I don’t want to try and do that again.”

Another pause, then, “You scared me, y’know? I… I thought I lost you. I did lose you for a second there, and I mean, we aren’t out of the woods yet, I might lose you again. And I’m not the only one who would lose something. Your uncle, Dustin, and your friends.  I-”

You paused, taking a moment to dry your tears. The next time you spoke, your voice was much quieter.

“Please don’t make me lose you again. Don’t make us lose you again.”

You sat in relative silence for a few moments, just watching him breathe for a moment. The beeping of the heart monitor continued on. It was almost a comforting sound. Combined with the general chatter of the hospital outside, you found yourself nearing sleep.  

When your eyes shut, images of Eddie’s face, covered with blood and contorted with pain, flashed through your mind. You jolted back up, nearly falling out of your seat.

“Jesus-!” you exclaimed, “Jesus…”

You put your head in your hands and sighed. You tried to shut your eyes again, hoping for peace. Instead, all you got were flashes of memories that you would much rather forget. As you looked up, those flashes bled into the real world, and for a moment, Eddie’s living breathing body was replaced with a corpse.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” you hissed, “I- I can’t be here right now. I have to go, I can’t-” 

You stood, quickly collecting your things. You made a beeline for the door across the room, but before you left you stopped. You took a few steps towards Eddie. His eyes were closed. He still looked dead, but when you thought about it, you realized he also looked calm. Relaxed. You hoped that, wherever his mind was, he was okay. Even though this wasn’t the best way to go about it, you had to admit, he deserved a break.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? And-” you slipped one of your hands into his, squeezing it, “And you’d better be here when I get back. Got that?”

He didn’t respond. Of course he didn’t. Still, you squeezed his hand again and whispered, “Good.”

When you got into the elevator, you completely broke down for what felt like the billionth time in the past few days. Tears fell from your eyes faster than you could wipe them away. Every attempt you made to catch your breath was met with failure. You felt so tired and so empty, and you just wanted to sleep, but you COULDN’T, because of the NIGHTMARES.  

You needed a coffee. You needed a coffee so badly. 

Not wanting to spend another second in the suffocating antiseptic-smelling air of the hospital, you took off for your dorm, almost breaking several traffic laws on your way over. The second you got in, you started your coffee maker. The soft sound of bubbling water soothed you as you removed your jacket and shoes. You collapsed on your bed and let yourself listen, trying to relax for just a second.

Just as your eyes fluttered shut, a sharp static sound cut through the calming sounds of your coffee pot.  The radio.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), if you can hear this, come in. This is Dustin, I repeat, this is Dustin. (Y/N), if you can hear this-”

“Dustin!” you exclaimed, grabbing the radio, “I’m here! I can hear you. I’m here.”

#x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things spoilers #stranger things volume 2 spoilers

[icarusthefoolish]

In Memory of Alexander aka Technoblade.

It doesn't feel like it but it's been an entire year without Techno, and to honour his legacy i thought I'd write a little something.

I first got into the Dream Smp a while after the first Major War the war for L'Manburgs freedom. One of my best friends who was staying with me showed me a Manhunt Video of Dream. I didn't even know who he was and i wasn't super interested in Minecraft at the time but i ended up watching the video anyway if only to make my friend happy. The next day when she left i found a short clip of Tubbo who changed his language to German and as a German person myself it made me laugh. That was the time i got into the fandom.

A few months later i came across Technoblade for the very first time, i was at the lowest point in my life at the time, I'd lost all will to live and i felt like a husk of my former self, but somehow Techno's Jokes and attitude made me smile even though i thought i couldn't anymore. The Potato War series was the video i came across and I watched the entire thing because he made me laugh. He made me feel alive again, he made me feel as though my anger and frustration and sadness was valid. I continued watching his videos while keeping up with the Dream SMP when i figured out he joined i basically only watched his POV, I'd be there for every single stream no matter how late it was or how mundane the things he did were. I was a lurker just enjoying hearing his voice in the background while doing something.

And over time i started to get invested in the Lore of his Character, what he stood for and i became invested in the friends he had on the Server. I kept up to date on everything Technoblade, i regularly checked his twitter and watched and re-watched his Videos. I remember when everything went quiet on his end, i was worried, i knew i shouldn't be because he was just a streamer who I'd become attached to but i couldn't help myself. When he posted the video where he explained why he was gone I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I was so happy to see that he was ok, that relief only lasted until he broke the news of getting cancer. At that time my personal life was getting busier as well i didn't have as much time anymore but i tried to keep up-to-date on what was going on. When there was more silence i found myself worried again, but I didn't have the time to worry about what was going on but the thoughts were in the back of my mind basically 24/7 by that time.

I remember the day when i found out about Techno's death like it was yesterday, i was at my schooling, I'd just arrived a few minutes prior and since we still had some time to kill i decided to open Tumblr, the first thing i saw was a picture one of my mutuals posted, I don't remember the exact text but it said something along the Lines of Fly High king. It had Technos crown and sword. I didn't even read the tags under the picture, my heart felt like it had just dropped down to my stomach, i immediately went to his twitter to check for anything, i found nothing, then i went to Google and that was when it got real. I was shown an article about his death and the Video his father posted. I immediately jumped to his Chanel and watched it.

The moment i saw the black Thumbnail and the Title "So Long Nerds" i was in tears, i watched the video but couldn't even make it half way through without sobbing. At some point one of my teachers noticed i was crying and offered me to go take a breather Which i did. I don't think it exactly settled what that Video meant at that time, and the rest of the day was a blur at best. I couldn't watch the entirety of the Video for another 3 months no matter how hard i tried at some point i broke down crying.

I felt like i didn't deserve to mourn Technoblade, I'd never known him personally, I'd only ever known him as Technoblade the Minecraft Anarchist it felt wrong to mourn him so i kept quiet about it. A little while after my 19th birthday i got a tattoo to remember him by, because he'd played a huge part in helping me recover even if he didn't know it. And ever since then every time i got sad about Techno i look at my Tattoo and think "he'd probably laugh about me being sad" and that makes me smile.

I'm thankful that i got to be apart of the community, I'm thankful that i got to experience technoblade. I'm thankful for every single moment i watched his Videos, I'm thankful for the fact that he was what helped me out of my darkest times and while i never got to know him beyond the YouTuber he was I'm still thankful that i got to have the chance to know him as that. I don't know where i would be now if i hadn't discovered Technoblade when i did I wouldn't have made half of the friends i have now.

So thank you Techno, thank you for being there for me even without knowing, thank you for your wonderful videos that always seemed to brighten my days.

Technoblade Never Dies!

I started this a few days before the 30th but i couldn't finish it in time so this is a little late.

#aiko talks #aikos shit posts #Technoblade never dies #rip technoblade

[novablud]

“I used to live there.”

Such a warm saying, entirely bittersweet.

I took my first steps on those floorboards.

My room was on the top floor, past the wall of vhs tapes, to the left. I sat in that room, drawing with broken crayons. I ran barefoot through every inch of that yard. I listened to scary stories around that fire pit. Now overgrown, Ivy holding the walls, kissing the roof, rooting under rotting wood. My childhood dogs are buried under that oak tree, the one past the trail, under the bench. I almost broke my nose on that hill. I caught fireflies in that back field, ripped leeches off my skin after dipping my feet. My treehouse was there, next to the cornfield, my carvings I did with my uncle’s pocketknife still set in the wood like an etch in a gravestone. Rocks next to the neighbors property stacked like folded clothes. I sat on those front steps. Grass stains on my knees, smell of bug repellent.

I picked those raspberries in the pasture. I hunted bats in that old barn. I ran through that corn maze during October, flashlight in hand, grin on my face. I learned about the different types of birds with Lori. I had that dirt on my knees while gardening with grandma. Watched my grandfather smoke a cigarette in the early morning, smell of coffee and smoke. I napped on those pullout couches, touched the soft morning glories, picked those lilacs. My dad and Dave got drunk in the blue room. They were so young. I pretended the shed was my house, lockers full of guns. I sped my bike down that driveway, fast and unwavering, wind in my hair and scrapes on my knees. I played cards at that table, the one connected to living room, I didn’t know how to play poker. I was just a kid. I collected rocks on that main road, jumped off that dock at the end of the trail. I held bugs in jars, got bitten by mosquitoes and lady bugs. I watched the daddy longs weave their webs in the corners of the bathroom. I got carried in by my father from the car to the chair, tired, comfortable, I didn’t have school tomorrow. I chased my cousins with sticks in that backyard, wrote in journals, decorated with the local dollar stores glitter glue. I sang made up songs on that stairwell, the one with the door. I made breakfast in that kitchen, I played hide and seek in that pantry. I cried on that bedroom floor when I knew it would be my last time there. I left almost all of me in those walls that watched me grow up, watched me lose my last baby tooth in the bathroom with the flickering lights, watched my mother cry alongside me. Those walls watched my mom grow up too. They watched my grandfather grow up. They watched everyone come and leave, ghosts in the attic, dust on the windowsills. I’m still there in my head. I can close my eyes and give anyone a detailed walkthrough of every square inch without fault. I can recite the stories of every family member that saw ghosts in those rooms. I can tell anyone the history of that house, anyone. My soul has never yearned so badly for home that is not mine anymore, I can’t help but cry. I am still there in my head, just a child, waking up to the Dolly record playing in the living room. I’m still there, I am. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I wander the house in my head, morning light pooling through the windows, the smell of it. I can still smell it.

I drove past it not too long ago, I sobbed for an hour. It’s been over 10 years. It took everything, that 8 year old in me, to not jump out of that car and run through that back door, just so I could smell the dust again, feel the 2009 air against my skin.

If I could choose to die anywhere, it would be on that living room couch, listening to my drunken family members sing and laugh in the kitchen beside me, my favorite movie playing on the vcr in the corner, my childhood dog by my feet and my stuffed animal under my arm.

How can you get over this kind of heartbreak?

How does someone mourn something that is still alive?

A place that still exists,

how do you do that?

#I am mourning. #I’ve been mourning for over a decade. #it felt good to write this. #I miss my farm