#then I was like oh that’s already my existence LMAO

[eddies-house]

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Fourteen - A Merry Little Christmas

W/C: 7.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

(Cover) Phoebe Bridgers

Warnings: mentions of bad childhood, mentions of parent’s death, issues with mental health, allusion to a suicide attempt, self harm but not, just appears to be, blood, let me know if I missed anything. In all fairness this is a heavy chapter in the beginning. Oh and also, smut 👀

A/N: this took literally forever to write…only because I couldn’t write for like months lmao. But I spent all day basically fleshing most of this all out and there’s a lot of emotion put into it and not too much editing cause I already overthought everything I wrote as I wrote it, dare I say I put my whole fuckin pussy into this chapter. Next chapter will be the final one in the series 😭

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Christmas Eve was supposed to be different this year.  

A senseless daydream.  

It was dad’s last kick to his gut, he knows it.  Eddie finally had a good thing going for him but alas the Munson’s were cursed and he could never escape.  This was some kind of final revenge for not hanging around like a lost puppy though it wasn’t even his choice to leave Hawkins in the first place.  It didn’t matter, life never spared Eddie a precious moment.  

So he sat there, salty tears still somehow leaking out of him despite how tired he was, despite how wrong it felt.  Last week his dad was the most hated man in his life.  And last week he was suddenly dead.  It didn’t make sense, the devastation that consumed Eddie.  All he knew was that sunlight began leaking through the blinds and dotting the floor.  Birds were chirping annoyingly outside and his skin started to feel like cold cuts and despite how uncomfortable it made him, he couldn’t find it in himself to get off his ass and at least put a sweatshirt on.  

He had promised you breakfast, down the road at that little diner called Reggie’s.  Promised to get you the biggest stack of pancakes covered in whipped cream and all kinds of sprinkles along with the best, artery clogging bacon you would ever taste.  Maybe some scrambled eggs and hashbrowns.  

Whatever you wanted. 

He hadn’t seen you in days, not since the recent news broke.  His excuse of harboring the flu was not how he wanted to start daily phone calls with you.  He knew you would then mistake the stuffiness in his voice for phlegm and not his inner sorrows burrowing their way out of him.  He refused your offer to bring him homemade soup and hot tea, rejected the kindness he hadn’t deserved in the first place.  Told you that he just wanted to get healthy quickly and it wouldn’t do either of you any good to both be sick.  He left you in charge of the bar, much to Jett’s disdain, Eddie didn’t need you to confirm that for him he just knew.

Now just standing up seemed impossible.  Shifting his position on the couch to at least relieve the pressure against his tail bone wasn’t plausible.  And for what?  For a man that never gave an inch when Eddie gave him miles upon miles, practically handed over his life on several occasions.  Pathetic, he knew.  But the pain didn’t cease and he couldn’t even find it in himself to turn his head to check the time.

This was it.  

This was how you were going to come face to face with the fact that Eddie was no man.  Not a real one anyway, a facade if anything.  He could just picture it: you would await his knock at the door and it wouldn't come.  A giddy smile would spread across your face as you thought about your plans of going sledding together–he sees it so vividly in his mind.  And then you would be massively disappointed when he couldn’t deliver.  The creases at your eyes when you got overly excited would cease to exist at the mere idea of him.  He had it coming, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Eddie told you he was feeling better.  It was a lie.  He never had the flu.  He didn’t feel better.  He wanted to die.  And the man responsible for it wouldn’t even give a shit had he still been alive.  Now he was dead and Eddie was the one suffering.

And so his neglected stomach grumbled, his incoming stubble itched though he couldn’t find a fuck to give even in his discomfort, and the whiskey bottle ran dry far too soon.  His brain had been clogged with wishes and what he could’ve done, then declarations of it never being enough, a constant tug-of-war that migraines were made of.

He never stood a chance, his DNA had always been coded like a mutant, at least that’s how it felt deep in his bones.  There was always something off, he never resonated with life in general how everyone else did.  A flaw in the system.  And he built his entire being off of it, afterall he never had any control over the way he was perceived so what option did he have?  

Several.

He thought to himself.  

You could have gone to school, shown up.  

Could have stayed out of detention.

Gotten arrested less.

Not get arrested at all.

Could have said no.  So.  Many.  Times.

In all honesty he wanted to blame his old man but he couldn’t stop taking the hits for him even in death.  He couldn’t stop making excuses.  Any normal person would feel relief but he felt nothing but remorse.  For what, he couldn’t exactly piece it together.  Maybe it was a hidden desire to fix him, a glimmer of hope that he could make him turn his life around like Eddie had.  It would never happen, he was well aware, but a certain childish hope clung onto him, tugging on his sleeve, begging himself for reasons.

Until familiar curls similar to his own and an aura of the gentlest kind clouded his vision.  He could nearly hear her voice, smooth as butter and warm as the summer sun when he was a freckled kid.  Rosy cheeks and beautiful chocolatey brown button eyes to match his.

What’s the matter darlin’?

And he just sobbed.  And remembered.

Morning pancakes and the blues.  Muddy clothes and bubble baths laced with melodies.  Kitchen table haircuts, the softest voice humming in his ears, half inch curls littering the linoleum.  Dancing in the living room.  Refusing to eat his broccoli until she told him they were tiny trees.  Walking hand in hand to the corner store for milk and eggs, the promise of a sucker waiting for him at the cash register widening his innocent grin.  Late night cereal bowls when sleep wasn’t an option and nothing did the trick except some off brand Lucky Charms and tales of dragons and fantasy lands he wished they could run away to.

Then he remembered.

Him.

Stumbling into the kitchen on those nights more often than not, spewing nonsense.  Breaking the refrigerator door as he tripped while seeking another beer.  That door forever being duct taped and never properly fixed as promised.  Mama coaxing dad to bed before she slipped into Eddie’s tiny twin bed for the night, most nights.  Dad waking up just to shut the music off in the morning so he could sleep in.  Disappearing for days.

Mama unexpectedly passing and Eddie being so devastated that he didn’t eat for days and willingly waited at the door every day for pops to get home.  Only he rarely did.  Wayne checking in each and every day only to be on the receiving end of a temper tantrum each time.  Years and years of push back.  A clueless kid defending Indiana’s worst dad in the name of seeking some kind of normalcy.  

“My dad has a ton of jobs.”  He would beam, bright eyes and missing teeth.  

The kids would snicker.  Their mocking smiles would be mistaken for a token of friendliness.  And Eddie would once again be disappointed come the end of the day.  Because he’d realized it wasn’t normal to crawl under fences where dad couldn’t fit, to steal expensive things from “higher class pricks” as dad deemed them.  Take your kid to work day had a very different definition in his book.

So Eddie steered away from telling everyone about his dad’s work antics, opted to tell them about how he got to go to the bar with his old man every Wednesday, thinking he’d surely get praise for being considered so mature.  At least that’s how dad described it.  It wasn’t any better and the reactions were only worse.  They called his dad a drunk.  They weren’t wrong but that didn’t make him feel any less enraged.  “Spawn of Satan”, they called Eddie.  Because in truth that’s what his dad was, he just couldn’t comprehend it at the time.  Then came the christening of his formal title, a word so small but so…derogatory with the way it was spat at him.

Freak.

Spawn of Satan sounded so much worse on paper but Freak made his insides hurt.  And as he recounts the events of his life up until now, he tallies everything up.  Closure in some kind of fucked up way.  Childish thoughts of “he was still my dad” try to take over but are quickly replaced by images of their burning house, the records going up and flames and ash coating everything he had left, everything she had left.

Suddenly there’s broken glass scattered across the floor and warm blood trickling down his arm, not by any fault of his own, just pure rage and unknown strength annihilating the poor glass he attempted to drink water with.  Heartbeat in his ear, he swallows thickly and resumes his position against the kitchen cabinet–they’re going to send me back to the asylum.

All over again, even in the afterlife, dad plays his sick jokes.  Gets Eddie into trouble he never sought out–he was just getting water, it was just water and now he looks like the picture perfect case for mental instability.  No one’s seen him for days and–there’s knocking at the door.  He swears it’s not like last time- it can’t be like last time, he didn’t mean it.  This isn’t like back in Hawkins, when he was healing and the courts were making their decisions.  He thought he was a goner, decided to pull the plug to save everyone the trouble, Wayne was at work, Steve was getting him groceries, everyone else was dealing with the end of the world.  They shouldn’t have to worry about me.  With a bottle of prescribed pills in hand.

The knocking turning urgent, conclusions are drawn up in a scattered, tormented mind–surely they’d rip up his contract, the agreement in which he had been assured a promising life anywhere but Indiana.  A life he’d always longed for anyway.  

Be careful what you wish for.  

That goddamn voice taunts him.

The door shakes, manhandled from the other side and he’s forced to confront the final moments before he’s permanently put away.  “One slip up…”  They had said.  It didn’t matter if he told them it was an accident, nothing mattered if it was anyone else’s word against him.  Literally anyone.  As long as it appeared that he was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. They were probably waiting for this moment: lock up the problem child and throw away the key.  

Cause he was nothing if not a problem.  First and foremost.

Heart beating out of his chest, breath caught in his throat, he could practically hear the sirens whether they be from an ambulance or police car or both, they were coming–

“Eddie?”

It all stopped.  

“Eddie?!”  

There was no accurate way to describe the sob that clawed its way out of his throat, a tortured cry.  The scene before you had been pulled straight out of a horror movie: your beloved Eddie covered in blood, palms pressed into his eyes, stuttered breathing in between sobs.

Upon approaching him he attempted to scoot himself away, glass shards sinking into his hands, a gasp filling the room and you were certain you needed to find someone else to–

“Please don’t make me go back!”

You couldn’t form words.

“I-it was an accident, I-I promise.”  His eyes brimmed with a fear you never could have imagined coming close to witnessing in this lifetime.  “Just–I just got some water-I didn’t mean to break it, I s-swear.  Please d-don’t let them take me.”

Glass crunched under your boots, a slow approach as you crouch in front of the shattered man with the saddest eyes you’d ever seen.  With a shaky breath and careful movements, a silent request to assess his arm and hands is made.  You’re sure your wide eyes can’t be comforting in the slightest though the shock still pulses through you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Shh.”  You soothe. 

Forehead pressed to his in a moment of solace, you offer a nudge, nose to nose.  A wordless commitment.  Softness he didn’t know he needed, tender touches of your fingertips to his wet cheek as if to promise a remedy for his aching heart, that you weren’t planning on going anywhere.  You weren’t leaving him like he convinced himself you would or god forbid turn him over to the authorities like he feared.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

–

Glass has been carefully swept three times over, though you were considering a fourth for good measure.  Shards had been plucked from Eddie’s poor hands, your tweezers doing the job just fine after being doused in some cheap vodka he had.  Gauze from a first aid kit you thankfully had in the car had been wrapped around the largest gash in his forearm, not large enough for stitches but large enough to wince at.  He sat there the whole time, staring at the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but your face.  

The silence was heavy, a dense fog that hung low throughout his house.  Someone had to break it but both parties were finding difficulties in voicing the reality of what just occurred.  If either spoke it would make it real.  Right now it was hazy, a question of “are we dreaming or did I just walk in on a suicide attempt?” hung in the air.

He said it was an accident, and you believed him.  There was just so much unanswered and it’s the only thing that came to mind.  Anxious fingers tapped against his own thigh, occasionally twisting his rings round and round while gnawing on his lower lip.  It then dawned on you that he was the most human out of anyone you’d ever met.  

He felt on a deeper level than most.

At the touch of your gentle hand against his, his surprised eyes, parted lips, and hesitance to reciprocate hint that he hadn’t anticipated you sticking around this long after you’d found him.  In the standard of fight or flight, he froze.  Realistically he may have been sitting on his tattered couch while you tended to his wounds, both physical and emotional whether he cares to admit or not, but mentally he checked out the second he found himself surrounded by glass and tears.

“Bambi–”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

You were trying to keep it together.  His croaking voice made that hard.  But in all seriousness it wasn’t fair to throw yourself a pity party in light of Eddie’s current stability.  And you’d reject the idea of throwing him a pity party, wouldn’t even touch the idea, but you would offer him all the empathy your soul had collected in a lifetime.  Even not knowing the culprit of his now dried up tears and stinging hands, you’d go to war for him.  Maybe that was dare you even think it, love.  But that’s a crisis for another time.

“Dad died.”

Somehow the silence became even greater, a gigantic void of confusing thoughts and complicated quick conclusions.  Conclusions you backtracked on immediately.  It wasn’t your decision to declare how he should feel about a man who in your eyes and through his words put him through hell no matter how strong your sense of justice grew.      

“Oh, Eddie, I’m so–”  A soft beginning to a sympathetic apology short lived.

“It’s fucked.”  His voice cracked, stoic face crumbling no matter how hard he tried to rebuild the tough exterior.  “I shouldn’t–”  There’s a pause, an intake of shaky breath.  “I shouldn’t feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to.”

“No, no he ruined fucking–everything.”

“And you’re still allowed to mourn.  Even for as shitty of a person as he was, you were still his son and that meant something to you.”

You wished you could erase the flash of pain that glazed over his eyes; something that tells you he knew every word you spoke to be true but couldn’t quite bring himself to be at peace with it yet.  Dust collected on the coffee table in his eternity of reflection, a melancholy aura blanketing the dark cabin as wind whistled through the chimney like spirits demanding attention.  

“How’d you know?”  He finally asked, timid.

“Hm?”

“I left everyone hanging, they all think I’m out with the flu, how did you pick the exact moment I…”

“Needed someone?”

Eddie nodded, hesitantly, like those weren’t the exact words he would pick himself but they seemed to convey what was necessary.  

“Wayne called me.”  You sigh.  “Said he got my number from Steve.  Everyone wanted to jump on the first plane over y’know?”  At this a trace of a fraction of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he did his best to contain it.  “But it’s Christmas, flights are booked, and even then there’s a storm coming in.  Wayne said he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“So you knew?”

“No.”  You assure, taking care to relax your features.  “Just sounded really worried, didn’t want to air everything out.  He wanted me to check in.  I guess he has some kind of godly intuition.”  You chuckle.

Eddie retracts his hand, and you know you’ve lost him to his inner battle again.  You can only imagine the bloodshed happening within, after all, you were no stranger to deconstructing your own self worth brick by brick.  The traumas he had been faced with were not anything therapy could simply remove like a tumor.  There were no treatments afterward to ensure everything would get better.  You knew this first hand, that you could try and try to get to the root but there was never any way to truly remove it to keep it from ever festering again.  It would appear, it would be when you least expected, at your worst, and it would look you in the eye and test you.

“I’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.  When the host convinces themselves but could never actually believe it to be true in their lifetime.

“But right now you’re not.”

Sabotage.  In his eyes.

“But I will be.  Don’t let me ruin your holiday just because–”

Excuses.  Deterring from the targeted enemy: grief, in the name of saving others the trouble.  A tactic you’d perfected in your years of people pleasing and feeding your tendencies to deflect your sorrows with the intent to appear invisible and self destruct.

“Stop it.”  You demand.

“No, Bambi.  Go to Donnie’s, I’m sure they’ll understand you coming early–”

“Stop.”

Rational thoughts were shoved into a neat little box somewhere else in his mind and you only hoped you could aid in retrieving it before he threw away the key.  Before he decided not even he was worthy of hearing them from himself.  And as he crossed his arms, a stubborn gesture, you braced for impact against his defenses.  His cruel inner monologue and haunted house of a brain.

Big eyes adorned with every brown hue under the sun dissipated into pure darkness.  Cold and black, lacking any of the warmth you’d previously basked in.  He was lost in an underworld he’d been promised to since birth.

“Would you listen to me?!”  Eddie’s jaw clenched in utter frustration and you swear a bead of sweat trickles into his eyebrow.  “I’m not–I don’t wanna be the guy to drag you down.  I’m not gonna be that guy, I won’t do it.  My shit is my shit.”

You weren’t going to become complicit in the reality he’d settled for, the reality in which he felt he deserved scraps and just enough attention to deter himself from going insane.

“And I’m not gonna be the one to leave you while you’re hurting.”  Finally catching his avoidant eye contact, you offer his forearm a squeeze.  A plea.  “Throw me out in the snow, I don’t care but I’m still gonna sit on your porch until you let me in.  I don’t care what holiday it is.”

“Go.”

You try not to take it personal.  It’s not personal.

“Fine.”

The last thing he hears is a slam of the door, refusing to even glance at where you previously sat adjacent to him.  The room turned colder, more vacant.  Even your energy had left with you, none spared for him of course, because why would he be spared anything from your healthy heart?  His was black and blue, barely pumping, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you perform CPR on what he considered an already lost cause.

Do not resuscitate.

As quickly as he’d accepted the death of a budding relationship, the door swung open with aggression to interrupt his mourning, smacking the wall and no doubt breaking through some drywall.  The least of his problems as he watched your determination in setting some stacked boxes on his kitchen counter before exiting again, this time leaving the door wide open.  

It was eerie, the way your second exit was so open ended.  Snow flurries entered and gusts of wind toyed with his curls, his cheeks already hurting a tad with the coldness.  Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of it, you’d dropped off a box of what appeared to be Christmas decorations and what?  Stormed off?  Somehow that hurt even more than the first time, though he’d anticipated the day you would figure out how fucked up he was and retreat.  He could prepare all he wanted but nothing stung more than the actual—

In you came, a box of ornaments under one arm and a small Christmas tree under the other.  And you got to work, setting up the three foot tree right on his coffee table, plugging it in to the nearest outlet and initiating a soft glow of white lights, instantly engulfing the room in a newfound safeness.  The tree needed fluffed and appeared to have bed head, though it still served its cheerful purpose regardless.

Eddie sat with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, on the edge of the couch, eyes shut.  An uphill battle.

“Bambi, what did I tell you–”

“You told me to go.”  You nod confidently, a frown betraying you, pulling at the corners of your mouth.   “And I did.  You didn’t say how long or—or where to go.  But I gave you time to cool off and now you’re gonna either sit and pretend Christmas isn’t a thing or you’re gonna watch the stupid little clay people on TV while I cook dinner and bake.  Either one is good with me but I’m gonna be here whether you like it or not and—“

Before you can look up amidst your rambling, a ringed finger hooks itself in one of your belt loops, tugging you into a warm chest.  

There he is.

Warmth restored in his irises and a semblance of a smirk threatened his lips.  Pale skin rosy in all the right places and endearing eyelashes framing his shy gaze down at you.  Your boy.  

Lips grazed lips, noses nudged into each other, and it all just…made sense.  Bambi and Eddie.  There is not one without the other, not anymore.  Not since you sauntered into his life, demanded a job, puked on him, made him go absolutely insane—

“I love you.”  

It just fell from his tongue.  A promise.

“I-are—are you s—“

“Am I serious?  Is that what you’re gonna ask?”  He nearly mocks your mouthful of syllables.

You nod, gulping.  Not because you’re afraid, no, never.  You’d just never seen such assurance in a single man.

“Bambi…” He tuts.  “You don’t see how bad I’ve got it for you?”

All you can manage is to dumbly bat your eyelashes up at him, mouth hung open like a fish and fists clutching the front of his shirt unknowingly, though he doesn’t mind in the slightest if you stretch out his collar.  

“Bad.”  He reiterates.  “So bad, that even if you don’t feel the same, even if you only like me out of pity—“

“I don’t—“

“I’m not finished.”  Your attempted interruption has him thumbing at your bottom lip.  “Even if you only like me out of pity, I’ll take it.  And I’ll run with it.  Far.  Because I’m pathetic—“

“You are not.” 

“I’m a pathetic man.  Who is deeply in love with you, Bambi.”  

“Stop saying you’re pathetic.”  You challenge quietly, a delicate hand tracing the stubble of his jaw.

“Oh, but I am.”  He breathes, leaving no room for argument when he presses his lips against yours as if it were his last chance.  

Did he believe it was his last chance?

And without thinking, tongues collided, teeth clashed, he had backed you into the wall and there was no telling how you found yourself palming him over rough denim, a whine escaping his throat before you’d barely touched him.

A pathetic whine dare you say.

“Sorry, sorry.”  You gasp, string of saliva connecting you like the invisible string you believed tied you to him all along.

“Don’t—ow!  Jesus fuck.”  Eddie winced, shaking his hand in the air after attempting to cup your blushing cheek.  “Forgot I had fucking…glass in my hand earlier.”

You giggle, a saccharine sound, a melody in his ears that he yearned to make more of.  Embarrassment traces your features, brows pulled into a worrisome look while you hold your hands close against your chest, afraid of further touch much to his dismay.  

“Can you…can you do that again?”  He whispers.  Terrified of the consequences but brave enough to face the rejection.

Nodding, your slow hand reaches for his cheek, thumb grazing over it before trailing down his neck.  His breath hitches, your hand traveling lower and lower, over his chest and down his stomach, exploring all that you’ve so desired only in your wildest  wet dreams.  

Lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly, just enough to let your fingers graze his soft skin, your main goal is to tug at that delicious happy trail.  And when you do, he can’t admit to you that he nearly cums in his jeans but you’re certain you’re on the same page when you see his eyes roll back into his skull.

 He can’t control himself when he ruts into you the second your palm meets him once again, beautiful, breathy sighs escaping his pouty, plump lips.  

“Like that, baby?”  You ask, trailing hot kisses down his throat.

“Please.”  A whisper that tells you everything.  “I-I never—no one’s ever—“  He tries to warn you.

“What?”  You encourage, tongue tracing his earlobe.  “No one’s ever taken care of you, huh?”  

“Just my hand.”  Eddie jokes, voice strained.

Guiding him to sit back on the couch, it protests beneath the weight of you both as you crawl into his lap.  Careful fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, patient lips hovering over his.  Doe eyes look up at you, half in admiration, half in hesitation.  

“We can stop.”  You assure him, sweet kisses pressed to each corner of his lips.

“No, no.”  His voice shakes, chest heaving.  “I just—I don’t know exactly…what I’m doing.”  

There’s an undertone of humiliation, the opposite effect you wanted to have on him.  But you were confident that you could make him feel comfortable.  Feel sexy and wanted.

“Let me do the work.”  You whisper against his lips, slowly rolling your hips into him.  “Let me take care of you.”  

He nods, frantically moving to undo his zipper, only to be met with your delicate hands wrapping around his knuckles.  You’re so patient with him, so gentle, so unlike what he’s ever been faced with.

“I said, let me take care of you.”

Feather light kisses pressed to his knuckles, you continue rotating your hips against his, feeling his bulge in between your legs, the friction tightening the knot within you.  His eyebrows knit together, head falling back against the couch’s when you graze your fingertips just below his shirt again.  

Nails gently drag down his torso, eliciting the loudest moan you’ve pulled from him so far.  His injured hands only allow him to take their place in your belt loops again, assisting in setting the pace as you grind against him.

“Eddie.”  You whimper.

“M’ gonna cum.”  He halts your movements, only letting you hover above what was about to be sweet euphoria.  “Wanna be inside of you.”

You can only gaze at him with the utmost love, entranced by his flushed appearance and his damp curls framing his face.  

“Please, baby.  Please, I’ve got condoms—“

You have to stop his babbling by shoving your tongue in his mouth, nodding against him with a grin.  

“You bought condoms?  Boy, are you prepared—“

A playful pillow is tossed into your face, a deep groan coming from your boy.  

“Yes, I’m cautious, baby, please if you don’t sit on my dick right now, if I have to go one more minute not knowing what it’s like…”

“Shhh, okay, okay!!”  You squeal when he attempts to get up only to fail with you pushing back.  You knew damn well he was strong enough to fling you off of his lap should he choose, which only made your underwear more of a mess.

“You wanna go to the bedroom?”  You tease, nuzzling into his cheek.  

Without a second of hesitation, he launches you both off of the couch, palms against your ass only making you wonder how much his hands must hurt and how much adrenaline he must have not to care.  Playfully, Eddie tosses you onto his bed, a pile of unkempt sheets that only seemed that much more comfortable than your own bed.  You could die happily in the smell that engulfed you.  Purely Eddie.  Woodsy and minty.  A tad smoky.  And some hints of apple.

Just when you think he’s about to jump your bones, in every literal sense, you open your eyes to find him carefully adjusting the needle of his record player in the corner of the room.  And then it plays.  A rendition of Can’t Help Falling in Love.  A folkier version, a woman singing with a twang to her voice.  

“Well alright, cowboy.”  You joke, an over seductive brow raising at him.  

“Shut up.”  He grins, crossing his arms to take his shirt off and toss it behind him.  

“C’mere.”  You reach over, tugging at his belt until he hovers over you.  “Wanna see you.” 

“You are seeing me, been here the whole time.”

Quickly, he gathers what you mean as you reverse positions, pushing him back on the bed to trail your lips along his stomach.  Perfectly pretty lips follow along the scars he’d been left with years ago.  The rough texture doesn’t deter you, doesn’t scare you off like he imagined.  While your lips explore his scarred side, your hand delicately traces the dragon tattooed along his ribs on the opposite side.  Inked skin that arose with goosebumps after each touch.

As if he hadn’t already died and gone to heaven, you stop your torment on his body to discard your own shirt, leaving you in only your bra before him.  Careful to grab his hand, you drag his fingers down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, down, down, down until you let him dip into your pants.  Beneath your damp panties, collecting slick before he catches on your clit, a moan falling so desperately from your lips.  

“F-feel what you do to me?”

It aches.

His finger sits pressed against your throbbing clit, teasing in a way he has no idea about yet.  But he will and you’re not quite ready to relinquish that power to him…yet.  

You can’t handle the confines of clothing any longer, releasing your breasts as you unhook your bra and toss it to the side.  His eyes grow, lips parted in awe.  And when you go to shimmy your jeans off, the friction against his hand pulls a mewl from you, something so pretty and real.  

You’re completely bare, prey for him to claim although he doesn’t, he lets you have control.  And then you remove his hand, only to drag yourself over his denim covered thigh, slick coating the material without much effort.  

Catching his eyes, you watch as he brings his finger up to his lips, tongue wrapping around the digit with a moan of approval.  That’s when you decided you couldn’t drag it on any longer.

His belt buckle clinked against itself as you worked to yank his jeans down, practically drooling for his cock, drunk on the mere idea of even seeing it.  Plaid boxers ignored, you pay attention to the way it slaps against his stomach, already leaking and red.  Painfully aroused.

He barely survives when you decide to lower yourself and lick a long stripe up the underside, twitching against your tongue.

“B-baby, please.”  While grinding into nothing, poor boy.  “Wanna cum, wanna cum so bad.”

He’s been taunted enough, breaking a sweat as he lays there, fisting the sheets in his hands.  You’ve nearly brought him to tears and you’ve barely touched him.

Leaving open mouthed kisses along his reddening chest, you finally offer some relief, ripping open a condom he’d somehow grasped in his hand the entire time, rolling it onto him, and sinking down, swallowing him into your warmth.  Eddie makes the prettiest sounds, small almost hiccups and gasps.  Slowly, you work your hips against him, clit rolling just right against his pubic hair. 

He’s big, stretches you out and hits just the right spot.  Hips stuttering, he places his hands on your waist, cut hands be damned.  Eddie’s close, has been this entire time, but he can’t contain himself the second you lick up a bead of sweat from his chest to his collarbone.  The site is simply too pornoraphic for his inexperienced dick, hot cum filling the condom.  The moan he lets out as he finishes only encourages you, gets you going faster in the limited time you now have before he softens.  

Automatically you reach down to play with your clit, knowing it’ll push you over the edge though he realizes and beats you to it, a rough finger circling you in a pleasant rhythm.  Overstimulated whines fall from him but he doesn’t quit giving you what you need, what you so desperately desire.  

Then all at once, pleasure crashes down around you, pulsing around him, leaving you twitching and panting.  The record stopped playing however long ago, the silence pulling you back into the realm of Eddie’s bedroom.

 Nothing needs to be said, words aren’t on your minds.  Excuses for what just occurred are nonexistent because if you’re being honest, it was sewn into the timeline no matter what.  Forever embedded into the universe in every lifetime.  Heavy breaths carried a symphony during the cool down, sweaty chests pressed together, sticky and salty.

Absentmindedly your foot grazed against his hairy shin, fingers dancing along his chest and arm.  His bicep was toned, something you were never able to appreciate up close before but would now take all the time you wanted.  You wanted to memorize every detail of his body, every freckle, hair, and birthmark.  All of him.

His lazy hand let his fingers trail up and down your spine, writing letters unknown to you but etched into his brain for as long as he knew you.  He held a new appreciation for intimacy, something he sourly wrote off early on but now would cherish deeply.  

Girls never liked him but if he could go back in time and show younger Eddie the one girl who would ever matter to him, well he imagines younger Eddie would still be a naive dipshit about it but he could try nonetheless.  Supposes he would hit him with a “it gets better, kid” and all that sappy shit.  Something like “you’re gonna marry this girl”.  That would be okay to jump the gun on, right?

–

Cinnamon and chocolatey aromas couldn’t completely wash away the somber haze although it was fairly close.  Post sex air somewhat helped as well, though you weren’t banking on it, it wasn’t a solution, more like a deterrent that hadn’t been planned on either part.  

The little plastic tree on the coffee table decorated with years old ornaments wasn’t going to heal the bruising on an ever healing heart.  Christmas classics played on the TV but you knew Rudolph wasn’t going to erase a lifetime's worth of childhood trauma.  

It could help though.  And that’s all that mattered.  If watching Christmas classics only aided in healing a millionth of the wounds, then it was worth doing.  If decorating his once dark and depressing house with twinkling lights and garland only brought out a smidge of the inner child that needed help healing, then it was worth it.  

While Eddie slept in, you played Santa even if just with one gift, leaving it next to the coffee table, too large to fit under the small tree.  Though it didn’t start out perfect, Christmas was starting to look very familiar.  Baked goods sat out on top of the stove, cinnamon rolls, croissants, the works.  Eddie’s shitty little kitchen radio played Christmas tunes which you found yourself humming along to.  

You’d thrown together some maple bacon, drizzling actual maple syrup on the strips in hopes that they’d candy in the oven, which they did.  Hash browns sat in the skillet, slightly burned but at least there was ketchup in the fridge to cover up the burnt taste.  Snow blanketed the streets outside, snowing you in although you didn’t mind one bit.  

You’d called Donnie, heard the commotion over the line at her house, family members causing a ruckus in the background as she made pancakes.  While you were supposed to be with everyone this morning, she assured you all was well and you could hear the smirk in her voice.

Emerging from his room, Eddie’s bed head is the first thing you greet.  Curls sticking out every which way, bangs defying gravity.  Lines ran down his face, imprints from the sheets and his boxers hung low on his hips.  A dream.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”  You giggle at the way he squints in the early morning sunlight peeking through the window.  

Stretching his arms over his head, you’re forced to witness the way every muscle flexes, drool nearly falling from the corner of your mouth.  It doesn’t go unnoticed but he decides it can be addressed later.  

“Merry Christmas, did you get me some fucking curtains so I can actually see?”  He laughs, voice husky with sleep.  

“No but I can do you one better—“

“I was joking Bambi, I wasn’t actually expecting any—“

“Next to the table.”  

Your grin makes him want to run directly to you and spin you around, kiss you a few dozen times, and never leave this bubble you two have created.  Instead he hesitantly steps toward the previously mentioned gift, a large gift at that, wrapped thoughtfully in reindeer paper and complete with a large red bow.  He felt like an asshole.

“I—no I can’t—“

“Open it.”  

Eddie just stared. 

“Eddie, it’s Christmas, first thing you do is open gifts!”  You smile, approaching behind him.

Then he disappeared back into his room, the sound of him rummaging the only thing letting you know he hasn’t retreated just to hide from you.  When he walks back out, he’s hiding something behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at his face.  

“I swear—I was going to wrap it, I just—I don’t have an excuse.  I just didn’t.  I’m sorry.”  His large brown eyes plead with you, begging for forgiveness that he didn’t need to beg for in the first place.

As if defeated, he hands you a stack of records, several that probably cost a good paycheck.  And you can tell he feels it’s not even enough with the way he avoids your gaze.

“Um, it’s probably stupid, it’s just, they’re records that made me think of you.  I dunno, it’s dumb, music is just—“

“I love you.”  You interrupt.

Without another word you grab the records from him to momentarily set them on the table.  Before he knows it you're smashing your lips against his, passion being poured into every breath he takes against you.  Your hands cup his cheeks, still slightly stubbly but cute.  He wraps his large hands around your wrists, hissing at the slight sting but continuing. 

“You’re not just saying that—“

“I.  Love.  You.”  You enunciate each word with a peck.  “Point blank.  No exceptions.  You’re stuck with me old man.”

“Old man?  We’re like the same age—“

You’ll never forget the amusement on his face but what attracts your attention next are the records.  A huge stack of them.  All genres.  Some Elvis, ones that hadn’t made it in your collection yet, a few that seemed more his taste, metal.  It was a universal language and it was his preferred way of feeling.  That much you could gather.

“Um, yeah, if you don’t like them I can just…”

“Don’t like them?”  You scoff.  “I love them.”

You hold them close to your chest, as if they were books and you were in high school.  You suppose you could be what with the way butterflies erupted in your stomach.  He made you feel like you were in high school, gave you a sense of youth that had been skipped over previously.  

And he was blushing. 

“Well, uh, I just thought you know…music does a lot for me.  I picked some out that I knew you’d like.  Also put some that I like in there, I dunno why, you don’t have to listen to them.”

“Oh, we are listening to them.  Right after you open your gift.”

More blushing.

Eddie takes a few glances at the gift, as if it were there to test him.  Like Pandora’s box or something.  Then he crouches down beside it, hesitantly reaching out to peel back the paper.  A giddy grin rests on your face, records still clutched in your hold.  His face says it all once he’s torn through enough paper.  It’s a guitar case, that much he can tell, eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Then he opens the case, revealing a cherry red electric something that you couldn’t memorize the name of but all you knew was that he had his eyes on it for months before you even entered the picture.  At least that’s what the guy at the thrift shop said. 

“No fucking way.”  He smiles, half laughs.  Then repeats himself.  Over and over.

“Do you like it?”

Instead of receiving verbal confirmation, you’re nearly tackled, strong arms wrapping around you and swinging you around.  Laughter erupts from deep within you, Eddie setting you down just to kiss you deeply and with so much care you figure you’ll faint.  

“I love it, I love you.”

Later that morning, frosting coats his lips then transfers to yours in a quick kiss across his tiny dining table.  The bacon is devoured, mostly on his account, and those claymation Christmas classics elicit laughter like no other.  Deep belly laughs from the man whose legs you sit in between.  His shirt rests comfortably on your torso.

He calls Wayne, puts it on speaker, and effortless banter occurs between you three.  Wayne tells his boy to behave, wishes him a Merry Christmas, apologizes that times have been so shitty and that his flight had been canceled.  Thanks you for being there to ground his boy, tells you how much Eddie’s friends have gone on and on about you two, that he can’t wait to meet you.

Then you call up your family back home, more than likely all crammed in the same house, doing puzzles, arguing over stupid things, throwing wrapping paper everywhere.  You miss it.  But you wouldn’t trade your place right now for anything.  Eddie timidly and adorably chimes in, says hi.  Makes small talk with mom and grandma.  Grandma begs him to take a look at her station wagon when he makes his way over with you for a visit some day.  No question about it, he’s going and that’s final, according to her.  He doesn’t seem to mind though, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

Lastly you call up the gang.  Nancy answers, says everyone’s at their house as usual.  Shouting between Dustin, Steve, and Mike is heard in the background.  Something about a broken sled.  Robin takes the call hostage, telling you both about the juicy gossip amongst the group.

“And then Max—you haven’t met Max yet, Bambi, but Max left Lucas a—shit you haven’t met Lucas yet either.  This would all make so much more sense then.”

There’s talk of a summer trip, something fun everyone can join in on.  Kind of like summer camp except Nancy would of course be the ring leader by default.  She would more than likely assign the adults as camp counselors unofficially.  Eddie’s face lights up, tells her about the perfect campsite not far from his house.  Beautiful in the summertime.  Then looks at you, shares a dimpled grin and runs his thumb over your knee.

Loved ones called and bellies full, Eddie plays around with his new guitar, and softly in the background, Muddy Waters plays.  One of the records he’d gifted you.

~end~

Masterlist

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #smoke signals #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie Munson series #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic

[mcnuggyy]

just remembered the fucked up dream I had last night where like 99% of the population switched bodies with somebody else somewhere in the world, BUT you weren’t aloud to talk about it at all or say who you really are or what your actual body looks like or else the government(?) would fucking kill you, like there was cameras watching us at all times, and people getting shot in front of us was common, it was very dystopian… but it was kind of an unspoken fact that almost all the people who were doing the best job at pretending to be people they weren’t were all transgender for some reason?? to the point where a lot of us had found ways to talk about it without talking about it and could bypass the cameras and shit… and the like guy who was all behind it had to get involved eventually…and he like started interviewing some of us and finally once and for all had us talk about who we really were and it was very dramatic and emotional but I woke up like immediately after saying what I looked like and who I was so 🤷🏻 who knows what would have happened next LMAO

#definitley some sort of weird queer horror trans narrative going on #but waking up I was like damn… I was getting misgendered left and right non stop and just had to deal w it #then I was like oh that’s already my existence LMAO #(I was on the body of a very very attractive young blonde woman btw #like MODEL type but I was still unhappy… even being conventionally attractive cause obviously I wasn’t myself #and I can’t even imagine what it would have been like with people experiencing racism for the first time or not experiencing it for the firs #t time… all sorts of wack stuff #I remember there being like a 60 year old guy who was on the body of a little girl #and when they die their bodies switch backed so you would see the like dead old man there instead of the little girl #but I’m not sure what happened to the other person you switched with? like did they die too? would u be responsible for their death? #or would they get to finally live as themselves again? #which would be worse? #idk… #cause then I could see like someone trying to find themself and then try and trick the other person #into talking about it so they could return back to their body #or you would always be on fear that someone out there on the other side of the world could kill you at any moment #NOT TO MENTION THE LANGUAGE BARRIER OF THATS A THING but I think in my dream people just were able to speak the language of the body they #switched into but yeah… anyways <3 #very interesting thought experience once again my dreams are always so strange lmao #callate guero

[fearandhatred]

oh hi. this did not in fact take only an hour to write but hey it's done! any support is so so appreciated <3

also thread of me lowkey liveblogging myself (not) writing this lmaoo

Summary:

A fun little side perk of being a demon is that Crowley only gets to see the world in shades of grey. That is, until that world is touched by one particular angel.

They say that it's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing. That's a partial truth, at least for him. The landing did hurt—his bones had shattered almost methodically, travelling through his legs and up his spine like a shiver; the whiplash from his head hitting the ground had felt like an explosion of guts in his mouth. But the fall had hurt, too. Because the wind had cut into his useless wings like knives, his skin and grace peeling away under the friction, and he had been looking right up at the multicoloured and unreachable expanse of sky just to see it fade from his eyes into dull greys. And that was that. For the indiscriminate time afterwards, he and all the other demons wandered Hell's corridors like strays, lost and trying to adjust to a new life where hope looked just as bleak as despair. They wore all black, because the identifiability of that darkest shade meant that they wouldn't have to worry about clashing colours. An inconsequential problem, maybe, almost laughable in its insignificance, but it was the one piece of self-dignity they could still control. Back then, that was everything.

#fearandhatred #fearandfics #fic: sunflower fingerprints #honestly i feel like i could do/have done so much more with this #but i don't wanna overthink it lol i didn't even have the time to write this fic #also one reason this took longer to write was because i did research!! into the hindu festival of colours #i knew about it already and i've always found it magical but i wanted to make sure i got my facts straight before writing about it #i hope i did it justice #honestly a coincidence that i remembered this festival existed while writing this lmao. and it turned out to be so significant to the story #so yay! #oh and if you saw my thread. update i'm not even going for the test lmfaooooo good riddance #good omens #good omens season 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #writing

[silenthillbunni]

🌧️🫧💭

#i shouldnt have fav mutuals bc i get sooo sad when they soft block me #which *always* happens like im not joking the day will come when they're just like nahhh bye #🥲🥲 nd i cant help but get sad #nd i dont even agree w that anon who said that 'no wonder everyone blocks u' bc im never mean to anyone #i think it's just bc im fundamentally unlikable and unlovable and the time will come when smth abt me #ticks them off nd nothing abt me is ever tolerated i always have to be perfect for everyone so then i just get cut off like dead weight lmao #also it shows that i get attached so easily but in reality ... ppl are not at all as attached to me 💀💀 #like i care abt them but they dont care abt me nd it makes me feel so stupid #why do i so easily care for ppl?????? why do i have to care nd like ppl when it's always gonna end the same way #me being me is bad nd wrong and nobody could ever truly know me nd still like me #i have to live my life constantly hiding parts of myself and making sure im not too authentic or too open bc then i will make ppl dislike me #it rlly is that. im never mean. i never fight. ppl just see smth abt me nd go 'oh ewwwwww' nd then leave #nd if it hasnt already happened it will at some point nd im constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop #whenever i realize i say or did smth wrong im tense waiting for the moment where they'll leave me will arrive #ok this might sound silly bc i was like 'triggered' by smth small but like #all my life thats just how it's been. im not even mean or cruel. i just exist and ppl dont like me or who i am or what i think #i can never be truly myself anywhere. that is sure to result in being all alone 4ever. but i dont like hiding parts of myself #but i have to. but its hard when im trying to hide nd be lowkey but i still manage to make ppl dislike me T-T #idek what im supposed to do bc i just exist nd im not likable. i try to be that but im still not. idk what to do #anyway.. who cares.. j'appartiens seul #but yeah it is bc it's like this for me all the time nd ig that triggered me lmao #i mean just w my sisters.. their issue is just who i am. my personality. i havent been cruel to them. or bullied them. or put them down #they just get irritated from my personality nd who i am. thats what makes them mad. nd they kinda want me to just stop being me nd idk how #to do that and therefore we arent even talking. havent talked for a year #i wanna cry like????? what am i supposed to do??????? im so extremely fucking horrible that just by exisiting nd not being mean or cruel mak #es me unworthy of everything. idk idk like. omg i feel so stupid for being triggered by that #maybe if i had irl friends and a job and a life i wouldnt care but im a fucking loser failure worthless good for nothing idiot. ofc im this

[sirenium]

It's okay to use contradictory labels. I know, I'm probably being redundant here. But I want to make sure anyone who hasn't heard it today gets to chance to hear it. You're valid. I don't care if you're a boy in whatever way, and you're also a lesbian, nor do I care if you're a girl in some way and also gay. I don't mind if you're omni, pan, bi, poly, or abro and a lesbian/gay. Are you aroace spec as well as mspec? Nice! Are you a mixture of all of these things? Something I missed? Cool!

Complicated identities are no less valid than identities that fit into boxes. And I will keep saying that, because there are still people in the world who insist on what you can and can't be (I swear I've said something like that word for word before, but sbsbs), whether it be your average homophobic grandpa or some exclusionist on twitter.💀

#twitter sucks btw #though that's already common knowledge I'm sure #also friendly reminder that complicated queer people have always existed #they aren't this new phenomenon or something #queer positivity #mspec lesbian positivity #pro mspec gay #pro gaybian #gaybian #mspec lesbian #mspec gay #queer #oh and pro tip #every time you see an exclusionist literally just block them on sight #it's so much better than engaging and has done wonders for my mental health #maybe it will help somebody to hear that you don't have to sacrifice your mental health for these people #just keep existing in your own sphere surrounded by people who aren't exclusionary pricks #I've blocked SO MANY people lmao #seriously just block them it isn't worth your energy or time and if you're somebody like me who gets stressed by arguments it REALLY #isn't worth it. please take care of yourself! I know the desire to educate others and maybe help them see your point of view #but literally don't even try cuz these people are on a whole other planet istfg💀

[cluescorner]

Randomized Robins AU - Ages + Worst Trait Exercise:

Steph (25):

Says her worst trait is her murderous rages (she is exaggerating for dramatic/comedic effect, she’s killed 3 people tops and for very good reason)

Thinks her worst trait is her spitefulness (one of the few traits she definitely got from her father + one that prevents her from fixing her relationships and living her best possible life. She’ll refuse to interact with someone she dearly loves after an argument (happens significantly less after Tim’s death) or will say things she knows are hurtful just for the sake of having the last word. This trait will worsen in some ways as the list of people who have wronged her and those she loves grows, but will also ease up as she matures and realizes the harm it’s doing to her relationships with those she loves most.)

Her worst trait really is her spitefulness

Cass (26)

Says her worst trait is her self-righteousness (she believes that her goals are righteous and, as a result, she is righteous. Cass becomes very defensive whenever someone questions the mission and often does not second-guess herself. This is a trait she only develops later in life as she grows closer to Bruce/learns to understand herself more/starts to love herself more. But she knows she isn’t perfect and when somebody she trusts criticizes something she is doing she is willing to listen. She just usually isn’t the one to START the introspection.) 

Thinks her worst trait is her self-righteousness. 

Her worst trait actually is her obsessiveness (she gets it from Bruce and, while not as bad as him, she will easily become preoccupied with her night-life and the mission if someone isn’t there to pull her back. She will do this to the point of self-destruction and it hurts her relationships with the people she loves, especially Steph.)

Tim (24)

Says his worst trait is his spitefulness (he actively rejects the idea of mending his relationships with the older members of the family and this causes him to also lack good relationships with the younger ones)

Thinks his worst trait is his obsessiveness (similar to Cass, if he gets fixated on a task or idea he will neglect everything else in his life in order to dedicate more time to it. Unlike Cass, he will almost never be dragged away from it unless Pierrot snatches control of the body and forces them to take care of themself.)

His worst trait actually is how manipulative he is (the KING of guilt-tripping and using people’s emotions against them. He’ll do whatever he needs to do to get what he wants, he’s not above crocodile tears. And he will do it to whoever he needs (or wants) to with little care for how his actions impact others.)

Pierrot (Insists: “Age doesn’t apply to me! And even if it did, I'd probably be the oldest. Or the youngest! I’d never be a middle child, though.” Mental assessments by the Bats have put him around 21, with a margin of error of 3 years. Pierrot has called this “blatant character assassination by my eternal rival!”)

Says his worst trait is that he is an irredeemable psychopath without any regard for the wellbeing of others (this is a lie and everyone who's important to him understands this). 

Thinks his worst trait is his parasitic nature (he literally would not exist had Tim not suffered the way he did. Plus he is a living reminder of one of the worst things that happened to many of his loved ones. He is a parasite injected into a functional person's body and contributes to his continued suffering. This is also a largely incorrect judgement of himself, caused by his actual worst trait.)

His worst trait actually is his limited sense of self (he doesn’t really know who he is outside of ‘inheritor to the legacy of the Joker (a man he despises yet also views as a father)’ and ‘chip in Tim’s brain that became sentient’. He slowly develops an identity over the course of his life and relationships with other people, but he lacks the foundations of identity that most people have. Pierrot will often almost become a caricature of himself and what others perceive him to be because it's the only person he knows how to be. This causes wild swings in how he behaves and relates to others, sometimes to the detriment of himself and others.)

Dick (17) 

Says his worst trait is his clinginess (he is a very extraverted person who likes to be around others, which mixed with his fear of abandonment after his parents died means that if he goes a few days without seeing/talking to a friend he will get very anxious.)

Thinks his worst trait is his anger issues (he gets ticked off very easily and will explode on people. He’s kind at his core and is usually very nice, but he has a temper that can escalate significantly. Spoiler (and later Twist) help him channel this anger into something positive.)

His worst trait actually is his anger issues.

Barbara (18)

Says her worst trait is her disability (internalized ableism, she thinks of herself as less valuable than the other Bats because she cannot be out there in the capes like they can. She will grow out of this as she matures and as she learns how invaluable her support for the team is.)  

Thinks her worst trait is her disability 

Her worst trait actually is her overly-independent nature (In an attempt to overcompensate for everything she can no longer do, she has resolved to do literally everything that she possibly can without any help from others. This results in many instances where she either takes on too much and winds up not being able to fully realize any of her tasks or where she makes her life and the lives of others significantly harder by refusing help when offered/not asking for it when she needs it.)

Damian (16)

Says his worst trait is his perfectionism (he is overly critical of both himself and others, taking any flaw or problem and amplifying it to an absurd degree. This is due in part to his life with the LoA (where even a brief misstep could lead to death), in part to how others treated him initially as Spoiler (any flaw was fixated on and used as a reason to either mistrust him or portray him as unworthy of the mantle), and in part due to the fact that he is Bruce’s son (the only person with worse perfectionism problems than Damian). Gradually, Damian has improved in this regard but it’s still a massive barrier to both his own happiness and his relationships with others.)

Thinks his worst trait is his perfectionism 

His worst trait actually is his perfectionism

Duke (16)

Says his worst trait is his definitely-real secret evil side (says this as a ‘my dad is a villain so who knows??’ joke)

Thinks his worst trait is his impulsivity in his words (Sometimes he will crack a joke or say a remark without thinking it through, leading to a LOT of hurt feelings and drama. He’ll say something without thinking it through and wind up seeming insensitive. This isn’t done because of malice, rather because Duke is someone who’s quick to act and speak. But while the mantle of Insight and his awakening powers have helped him with his actions, they do not always help with his loose tongue. As such, Duke gains an unfair reputation in the media as an instigator and will accidentally cause family drama through what he says.)

His worst trait actually is his impulsivity in his words

Jason (14)

Says his worst trait is his bad manners (he grew up on the streets and has no idea how rich-people society works, which he’s pretty insecure about considering he’s now the youngest kid of Bruce freaking Wayne). 

Thinks his worst trait is his reactiveness (Jason never got the privilege of planning ahead for various events in his life, so he instead needed to rely on being swift and harsh in how he could react to situations. It’s saved his life on multiple occasions and helps significantly in his role as Spoiler, but it can also lead to extreme overreactions (accidentally causing kidnapping scare after Jason ran away following a fight with Dick) and a struggle to plan things out ahead of time. As he grows more secure in his place in the family and in life, this trait will lessen but never fully dissipate.)

His worst trait actually is his reactiveness

#stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #dick grayson #barbara gordon #damian wayne #duke thomas #jason todd #batfamily #randomizedrobinsau #I'm debating whether I should tag this with the Joker Junior tag and those related to it for Pierrot #because like...it's not quite that. but it's also very close to that and is the direct result of that. #but Pierrot would fucking HATE to be tagged as that and sees it as an insult to his identity...which he already has problems with #so I don't think I'm gonna #anyways lmao I am totally projecting my younger self onto Barbara. How could I not? She's literally the reason I view my disability #the way that I do and she actively improved my mental health just by existing and saying some of the shit she did when I was in the #stages of accepting my own disability. So yeah I am projecting a lot onto her because I love her and see myself in her. #I'm mostly basing these characterizations on my favorite versions of them (ie Red Robin 2009 Tim and Birds of Prey Barbara). #so I'm taking the traits I like/think fit in this AU and discarding what I think either is bad or doesn't fit or if I just don't like it. #Damian's 'murder gremlin who is a meanie on purpose because he is a meanie' is entirely unappealing to me and also does not fit this AU #I prefer him when he's portrayed as a sympathetic kid (who is still an asshole) and not a demon child. So that's what I'm using. #same with Talia's 'abusive mother who is totally on-board with all of her father's bullshit and will kill someone for no reason' version #I have read enough comics to know what I like/what is most important and what I don't like/what is #BLATANT CHARACTER ASSASSINATION GRANT MORRISON YOU FUCK YOU SET TALIA BACK SO FUCKING FAR #I also decided to outline their WORST traits because I already know what I like about these characters/their best traits. #most people do. But what was a greater challenge was finding what would make their lives and those of others worse. #what would I hate about this person if I knew them IRL? What would I first suggest they get therapy for? What hurts them and why? #I found these questions really interesting in the context of this AU where some people are forced into completely different roles #the says/thinks/is was inspired by trying to answer that question for myself. I say my worst trait is my impulsiveness but when #I asked others in my life they answered 'oh so you said your weird thing where you don't ask for help right?'

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i feel like i should start making more of an effort, when i talk about something in a piece of media being Upsetting to me, to distinguish between 'cathartic' upsetting and 'gave me psychic damage' upsetting. sometimes i mean OUGH OW MY FEELINGS THIS FUCKS ME UP IN A MEANINGFUL AND RESONANT WAY, MY LIFE IS ENRICHED FOR BECOMING AWARE OF IT and sometimes i mean that it is genuinely distressing and i want to shake the creators and ask what the fuck they were thinking

#whosebaby talks #blog policy #this goes double when it comes to pieces of media to which i have both reactions lmao #i worry sometimes that not being clear about it makes it come across as if i'm saying 'something containing upsetting subject matter is Bad #when in fact a lot of upsetting subject matter is critical to depict; diversely so and often #and i am fiercely protective of the rep that resonates with me #which a lot of people are extremely quick to label as A Disrespectful Depiction absolutely no matter how it's done bc they want it erased #and use 'well it's only valid if it's done *respectfully*' as the Shirley Exception; with no intention of ever letting one be Allowed #but in spite of that there *are* absolutely fucking horrible and incredibly disrespectful ways for Upsetting Subject Matter to be depicted #and that deserves well-informed discussion and criticism; starting from an understanding of the actual purposes of fiction #and what infrastructure and language and framing and technique is used to achieve those purposes #and sometimes the purposes of a particular use are fucking awful! and executed in ways designed to cause real damage + get away with it! #so when i'm talking about something being Upsetting in the psychic damage sense; i'm referring to that #and the fact that not only is it infuriating and upsetting to witness that process in action #it amplifies the already deeply emotionally loaded subject matter; which may already require selfcare to engage with even when cathartic #and then yanks away the catharsis and just leaves you blasted in the face by uncushioned unvarnished Oh Right This Horrible Thing Exists #Thanks for Shoving My Face Straight into Boiling Acid Asshole #anyway complicated feelings about it but yeah i feel like i should try to be clearer lmao #(this isn't just about depictions of SA; and abuse in the sense most people think of first when they hear the word) #(although it comes up in that context often) #(see: Big Screan at pretty much everything with the talking animals in sd/mi but especially the fucking asylum lmao)

[taisorato]

there's been such an effort on the part of queer folks in thailand to validate BL as a genre to be taken seriously and it's going to be so disheartening if pit babes breaching containment on tumblr makes thai BL into some kind of joke, which is always what fucking happens when folks are made aware of asian media

#oh look a personal post #i don't really have any opinions on the actual existence of pit babes. whatever. it's not really their fault. #people just like pointing at asian media and laughing #i might be making up a scenario to get mad at but i've already seen one person joke about it and it raised my hackles lmao #but it's the same way people who are not plugged into these mediums talk about animanga and kpop. you know?

[halforcdad]

In light of the "Lucy looks for a new apartment" line in the 2x05 press release synopsis, it’s been fun going back and seeing all the tidbits the show’s dropped about how Kacy is learning and reacting to each other’s living habits. Seeing as it’s Lucy who’s probably going to be moving in with her, I’m guessing it’s intentional that they’ve been highlighting Kate’s reactions. Even though Lucy’s the one over all the time, she hardly ever says anything about Kate’s apartment. 

2x01: Kate being surprised that Lucy’s cooked her a whole breakfast buffet with plates conquering every single flat surface of the apartment, Lucy seems to respond to a lot of things with, “you know that I’m from Texas,” Kacy honeymoon phase in Ernie’s lair, Kate makes her bed everyday immediately after waking up (implied that Lucy does not), Lucy would eat pizza everyday if she could (Kate sounds both disbelieving and fond of it all the same)

2x02: their coffee spot seems to be right outside of Kate’s apartment so 👀

2x03: Lucy thinks Kate’s good at decorating, Kate in wide-eyed shock that Lucy would even bring up the state of her apartment in front of people even as a joke and pounces on the chance to pile on, Kate likes organizing, her mom used to say “clutter is just delayed decision-making”

2x04: Lucy wore one shoe out to her car from Kate’s apartment, only keeps single extra shoes in her car instead of whole pairs, thinks it’s silly that Kate would even ask her how she knows which shoe she’s going to lose, Kate becoming increasingly more flabbergasted the whole time

Interesting that they’re introducing this ‘potentially moving in’ storyline so soon after they’ve started dating for real and started learning more about each other. And it’s been amusing seeing Kate and her progressively more confused expressions every time we learn more about Lucy. But above all, it’s been great to see how super smitten and in love with each other they’ve been ever since they got back together and you can see it even in the smaller moments. Like Whistler walking in holding Lucy’s shoe and openly talking about her leaving it behind at her apartment vs. S1 Whistler being all coy about them seeing each other to the point of hiding Lucy’s tennis bracelet in some security forms (and Ernie going up to Kate and asking about their “glass slipper situation” vs. Ernie being slightly more lowkey asking Lucy about them in s1)

So, keep making those goofy expressions Kate Whistler, because no matter how perplexed you might be by the way she lives, Lucy Tara is going to be looking for a new apartment and you're still going to ask her to move in with you despite it all.

#ncis hawaii #ncis hawai'i #kacy #kate whistler #lucy tara #i really made a long ass post about kate basically going 'damn you live like this' to her gf huh #if the ep does not end with kate asking lucy to move in im gonna look like a real clown LMAO #ngl i thought building up to them moving in together would be their arc for the season #or at least till mid season but the synopsis for 2x05... #and lucy looks so soft and in love in kates hallway in that one screencap #justice for lucys apt #ik filming at these places must cost a chunk of change and scheduling must be killer #theyve already built tennants house in the studio but man! #i just know if i saw lucys 'messy' apartment id say oh mood LMAOOO id feel seen #there is absolutely no analysis or reason for this post to exist #besides that im obsessed with kate going wtf lucy tara you live like this??? i need more of that in my life

[agentark]

"I would not want a memorium"

the more you learn about R Verner, the more this line makes you want to write a multi page essay

#...........I want to talk about R Verner until I'm hoarse #if snippets #wait I was just looking in my screenshot folder for another verner quote & I had already snipped this once before LMAO queen of consistency #the first time you read this you might think 'huh interesting thing for the rich powerful kid to say' and even MC is like 'really?' #and then you learn more about them and also about their family and you're like Ah Okay #I am just so entranced by the way they wear the Verner name and then the glimpses you get of the R who exists beyond that #it's very important to me that 'Oh No!' by Marina is on the R Verner playlist #idk if these tags even make sense in conjunction w/ this screenshot but whatever #r verner #every single one of the core characters wears some kind of mask but R is exceptionally good at wearing theirs #trying to speed through this replay so I can get back to the alpha content but the brain worms are distracting me

[irritablepoe]

Only Poe and I would come up with the idea to write a book for our rivals to read and it turning out to be for nothing after all

#i mean i haven't given her the book obv #it's not even finished #but i started it with the intention of giving it to her #it's insane how similar poe and me are in that sense #like i say i kin a lot of characters but oftentimes that's only partly true #but poe would easily be based on me or my entire existence is based on him #idk it's just - when i first watched the scene i was so so so shocked but i also felt so SEEN #the worst is that like ranpo she doesn't even see me as a rival #she's probably forgotten me already #argh ouch #i hate how true this is #I'm being overly dramatic but that helps me write #hhhhhhhhh #it's the 11th now i have to stop being nostalgic💀 #johnny's silly rambles #don't listen to me. some day someone's gonna say “oh don't listen to them it's just the ramblings of an old pining fool” #and I'd have to agree #lmao that was dramatic too see? #but well she's the root of all my insanity #at least that's what I'm claiming. you can decide how true this is #i should go to bed i can barely see my eyes are so heavy #not really a vent huh #anyways #vent post #if you've read all this ily and ty <3 #oh maybe i should add that i started this book like 8 years ago...

[seventh-district]

so was anyone gonna tell me that Neil Newbon is the VA for Astarion or was i gonna have to find that out myself when he suddenly started uploading his playthrough of the game on YT

#Seven.txt #viddy game stuff #bg3 #astarion #like??? as soon as i saw it i was like OH OF COURSE IT’S YOU!!! #like. i only have a surface level of knowledge abt Astarion from passively consuming other’s posts abt being obsessed w/ him online #but i can tell that if i ever actually took the time i’d probably be rlly into the character #okay so Full Transparency- this post and the prior few tags have been siting in my drafts for the past 12 days #and i know Neil has been uploading his playthrough since even further back but i am late to everything okay it's how i am #and anyways in that time i have watched hours upon hours of Astarion scene compilation videos on YT #and i can now confirm- yes i am Really into the character lmao. like. Severely into the character #like. i'm-making-a-playlist-for-him-and-its-already-got-50-songs-on-it level of Into Him. it's over for me boys there's no turning back #i'm fixated. there's no saving me #like i have never dungeoned a dragon ever before in my entire life but this fucking man. #this man is making me wanna drop $60 and 150gb of my PC's storage space on a game i have no idea how to play #i think it could make for a fun recording experience. but idk if i'll actually do it. i'll sit on the idea for a while first #but Astarion's existence and the sickass character creation is calling my name. i think... it could be a fun time #not like i literally even have the time to dump into a massive game like that but i waaaant to. i kinda want to #anyways Seven found a new traumatized little blorbo to fawn over everybody watch out. a reblog storm may cometh #they couldn't have cast someone better for Astarion i stg #Seven stop falling in love with the characters Neil Newbon voices/acts as challenge FAILED #lmao now i'm thinking about putting BG3 Astarion and RE8 Heisenberg in a room together. could u fucking imagine #talk about taking the whole vampires vs werewolves thing to another level #Astarion isn't a True vampire and Heisenberg isn't even a fucking werewolf and that makes it so much funnier to me #just two old fucked up somewhat non-human guys. i'm genuinely trying to picture them interacting. how would it go #anyways i have been awake for 30 hours with only a 1hr nap in the middle. and i have just eaten a sinful amount of spaghetti #and am currently riding the high of finally having posted ch4 of ES. with no big responsibilities tomorrow. and so u know what time it is #time to be insane on tumblr until i pass out

[robinsnest2111]

what a weird dream

was on my way to see an obscure band somewhere further south, so I took the train. but I was stupid enough to not remember which compartment I was supposed to sit in (as the different wagons would later split off to go into different directions), also couldn't remember who I was supposed to go to the concert with so I couldn't shoot them a quick message and ask which part of the train they were on, then i couldn't remember where exactly the band was supposed to play so I couldn't go off of the city names listed on each wagon, then I also couldn't remember the name of the band so I couldn't point them out on a list of bands the train staff provided to me to help me figure things out...

all in all a very frustrating and anxiety inducing dream...

#starting to think i just made this band up and they don't really exist 🤔 #like i was SO SURE in my dream that i also knew them for real in the waking world #don't ask me when or how i figured out i was in a dream #dreams are memes #slightly reminds me of the absolute odyssey it was to go see KISS in Cologne last summer oh man #i knew where i was supposed to go BUT ALL THE CANCELLATIONS AND DELAYS almost made me miss the concert orz #anyway it feels illegal for me to just wake up now on a sunday. usually i'd already be at work at 11am lmao #but not today. might have to be there around 4pm #might not even have to go at all but i don't know that yet #knowing my luck i probably will have to go as spring break starts tomorrow so the kids have all the time in the world to go to the cinema #and i have to trade places with a coworker who has been there since 11 am

[blue-madd]

Looking back at all my notes on those little fictional people in my head that I have known for like 2 days and asking myself :

"am I insane?"

#i feel insane #like this isnt just an obession at this point and idk if hyperfixation would be correct to use either so umm #ive always known i was insane bc mental disorders obviously but like #to that extent..? #i get so obsessed its like i cant do shit without thinking abt this #that may be what an hyperfixation feels like tho #amazes me everytime it happens its like suddenly the outside world doesnt exist anymore #oh my ohhhh i think i have madd for real lmao #heres to realizing shit im supposed to know already #questionning my whole existence and sense of self and personality now but its fine bc ill have forgotten all that again by tomorrow #heres to taking the 'being a new me' a lil too seriously and getting rebirthed everyday w a v shitty memory #im fine this is fine im gonna lay down now #madd

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Sentence starter: "He understood why everyone feared the zorua and zoroarks, but he couldn't bring himself to do the same."

(still taking these!)

Irida described them to him as vengeful ghosts, who died of abandonment, and now hold a grudge against all humanity, and from the tone of her voice, she clearly felt this was a terrifying concept, but his first thought was,

How sad.

They attack without regard for their own life, she said, they bleed their own bodies in the pursuit of pain on others. How sad, he thought again. To be so consumed by one singular thing that your own life becomes an afterthought. Not pitying, but empathetic.

(He decided not to pause and interrogate the source of this empathy.)

Didn't they deserve it? Wasn't it the only sensible path? Was their anger, and bitterness, and pain, not wholly justified, if they had been abandoned first?

(Wasn't his?)

---

Irida was there, the first time they encountered each other, had watched him kneel before them, and speak softly, without a trace of fear—had seen them stop, the way they never did for humans who ran or begged or fought. She had marveled at his courage—and then caught sight of his face, and undergone a nauseous shift in perspective.

Courage presumed fear, or danger. Fear of Zoroark required the natural human fear of pain and death.

And Ingo, apparently, felt neither.

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #anonymous #swift writes #pla analysis #ok that last part is tacked on bc i keep rotating That Moment in my head #i justm mm. thinking abt ingo. and loss. #i think on some level he kind of considers himself already dead #like the fact that he persisted alive in hisui is some kind of. whoopsie error on the part of the universe #and he was supposed to go the way of his memories #and it's like. how can you grieve something without even knowing what it is. #how can you grieve YOURSELF if you don't know who YOU are. how can you feel abandoned by something that may not even actually exist? #and then i get to this prompt and it's like.... oh yeah. points. it's The Same! #i could keep going but i want to keep it to some semblance of 5 sentences lmao

[pocket-prosecutor]

Wereshifter Edgeworth AU masterpost/rant post/....incoherent infodump post.... ✌✌

Updated masterpost here!

The gist of it is that Miles shrinks when the sun goes down (like in shrek? yea.)

This phenomenon is basically a maladaptive stress response from the DL-6 incident. After a few weeks of night terrors and nightmares, a young Miles finds himself wandering around in the Von Karma residence later in the evening, not wanting to go to sleep.

The sun goes down and suddenly he feels a weird sensation all over his body. Miles thinks it's a panic attack at first but it feels...different. And then the ground suddenly comes closer and the furniture around him grows. Unsure what to do, he climbs on the nearest object he can find.

And then Miles finds himself stuck.

This obviously sends him down an entire new path of panic and anxiety. He's lucky that Franziska and Von Karma are already asleep, but Miles has to sit out this first night scared and alone.

He quickly learns the pattern however and manages to adjust pretty well....considering the circumstances at least. Over the years he tries to adapt his environment to his new condition, with whatever autonomy he has in the MvK household.

Once he gets out of the house he immediately invests in, well, what is essentially material for a dollhouse. A small bed and doll clothes for getting through the worst of it. Edgeworth also makes sure he can reach any high objects he deems necessary.

Summers are easier to get through. Edgeworth can go home from work without worrying that he won't make it and shrink. In those cases he can easily cook meals and remain comfortable until he goes to bed.

Winters are much more stressful. The days are much shorter so he can't afford to work overtime. On days Edgeworth can't go home in time (he can't exactly risk shrinking in the car ride back) he stays to "work all-nighters". His office is also supplied with various items that help him get through nights.

To keep up with the days, he uses a sort of smartwatch (those existed in 2012 right) that vibrates twice a day to warn him: 1st time about an hour before the sun sets, and the 2nd time a few minutes before the sun sets.

Franziska knows about this. She learnt about Edgeworth shrinking every night at a young age. Children are impulsive; she just happened to walk into Edgeworth's room at the wrong moment. Franziska understands how important it is to keep secrets from Manfred von Karma, so this secret is safe with her.

Manfred von Karma also knows. But he never told Edgeworth about this. He found him shrunken down when he checked on Edgeworth one night. He quickly figured out the pattern after a few additional nights checking on him. It's a rather useful secret to know if he ever needed something against Edgeworth.

(Huge thanks to the AA GT server for starting the wereshifter conversation and indulging with me over Wereshifter Miles AU jkddhfjdhf)

#aa gt #aa g/t #g/t #sizeshifter #wereshifter miles au #art tag #oh yeah no i definitely made that first sketch without any actual thought i just. needed like. something for size reference #surely MvK has a chess set and surely Miles was able to climb on there this is so reasonable look at me writing my way around this #will probably not make a fic but like. i want to draw some stuff for this so so bad #have a comic draft all set up i just need to. sketch and clean. but ugh #they wont b v high effort i just want this AU to Exist so i'll give it life myself lmao #ask me questions about this pls #i only have like. 3 clear scenarios in my head. and 1 of them is already shown here with the chessboard #i also wanted to add more sketches here maybe but i dont want to wait for my brain to get to that point #anyway !!! pls i love this AU a lot actually ask me stuff so i can think abt stuff #sizeshifting #my stuff