clericlost

[clericlost]

#emergency. hey everyone !  It’s me again requesting your aid to help me pay a share of my mom’s colonoscopy + endoscopy (with biopsy exam).  the amount this time is 120$ and I have to pay until the end of this month. Depending on the result of her exams, which it come out next week, this will be hopefully the last. I have one spot left for commissions I��ll leave the prices here  !  Any kind of help will be appreciated and mostly positive thoughts to this tumor be a benign one.  my paypal is: sallum.victoria@gmail.com

[clericlost]

almost anything that could go wrong DID go wrong at work yesterday, and now i open so the same could be true for today as well but i am crossing my fingers. and hoping to die <3

[clericlost]

post season 3,  will never finds another party in lenora like the others do back in hawkins.     he has no desire to,  not after the last party he’d had for the majority of his childhood.     truth be told,  if he could magically pack up his bags and move back to hawkins,  he’s not sure he’d even still play.     maybe,  if he felt bad enough saying no.     but in all honestly,  the interest in the game had evaporated overnight.

taking a baseball - bat to castle byers wasn’t a decision he made lightly.     rashly,  maybe,  but not lightly.     something flickered off,  then.     deflated.     he’s always liked art,  and still does,  but writing stories too,  playing fantasy games,  finding magic in the mundane.     painting is something he can indulge in without feeling too imaginary,  so it’s easier to keep,  but the rest he lets slowly slip away.     something about watching his friends drift to other things while he stayed behind in realms of fantasy touched on a much older trigger point.     when he first got into dnd or scribbling short stories in old notebooks to read to joyce at bedtime instead of the other way around,  not once was it not met by lonnie with,  at best,  apathy,  and worst,  ridicule.     the instinct to be embarrassed of his creative works is a tale as old as time in his world,  since he first learned how,  but people like his mom and his brother helped keep it from dying out entirely.     and then he made friends that not only didn’t find it weird,  but enjoyed it just as much as he did.

and now they just…   don’t anymore.     it isn’t all about he and mike’s argument in the rain,  or the feeling of losing his friends when he missed out on what felt like an entire year of normalcy with them,  though those are factors in their own right.     it’s also that well - known feeling of alienation,  an older friend than even these,  growing closer over time.     he’s used to the feeling,  grown accustomed to it.     but not among his own friends.     it felt like a betrayal at first,  yeah,  but lucas and mike scrambling to do the campaign with him despite clearly not being interested was almost…   worse.     humoring him.     a further symptom of something yawning a gap between them by the very fact they’re trying to bridge it.     it’s just not something he ever thought he’d experience with his friends.     he took it as a sign that he was doing something wrong,  instead of the growing pains of a bunch of traumatized kids that they were.     if cruelty and ridicule are what people like lonnie and bullies direct at people like him,  pity is what the good and kind do when even they can’t deny there’s something wrong with you.

fantasy feels embarrassing again to will.     by the beginnings of season 4,  the discomfort has settled,  not quite as knee - jerk as it might have been between it and season 3,  but definitely a disinterest.     the thought of playing with or without his friends leaves a strange taste in his mouth,  an echo somewhere hollow in the 15 year old version of himself he’s purposefully molded to fit around the place it had before.

[clericlost]

frembly reminder i am here and also here :D

[clericlost]

thinking about joyce raising her boys on mr rogers

[clericlost]

will finds it really hard to connect with people at times [yay attachment disorder], but music has been a go - to way of socializing for him. in large part, it's passed down from his brother, but it often feels like a universal language he doesn't have to struggle to learn just to bond with someone else, and luckily for him and anyone who wants to be his friend, he pretty much likes anything that doesn't threaten to put him to sleep.

p.s. one hundren billion percent had he gotten to meet and huddle in under eddie's wing would he have become an honorary metalhead

[clericlost]

[shaking like a chihuahua] what if we were mains... and we were both blogs.. ? 😳

[clericlost]

「   ASK MEME :   HOW’S MY PORTRAYAL?   」  * send anonymously or not. feedback is appreciated!

[clericlost]

lately i’ve been feeling so much like. cheering clapping applause to be here with y’all but all the enthusiasm is stuck in a snowglobe that i can’t figure out how to break cause it’s made of fear pain agony because social anxiety every time i log on :/

[clericlost]

please stop asking me how i'm doing, idk i'm ignoring it

[clericlost]

sluggrr​. . .

❝  don’t take this the wrong way,  but you don’t quite look well.  ❞

              His fingers graze lightly across the marks on his throat. They’re still red and raw and he pretty quickly pulls his hand away when they burn against his touch. He sighs and drops his arm, shifting slightly where he’s sitting  ( god, nothing’s comfortable now )  . He mutters a quiet,  “ Sorry, ”  when he softly bumps Will, who’s stuck sitting between Steve and Eddie on the couch in Max’s trailer. But they’re all pretty quiet right about now … Nancy’s still catching her breath while Robin hands her a glass of water. She held his hand all the way over here and he tried asking her what happened when she was … well … — no dice.  ( Not that he can blame her — he can’t even start to imagine what she saw. )

              So they’re waiting … recouping. Steve doesn’t think that’s a luxury they’re going to have for very long, so it’s best they take whatever opportunities they can. He combs his fingers through his hair and exhales with puffed cheeks. The pain is really starting to set in now, and he feels like they should bandage him up with something other than Nancy’s sweater.  ( But the bleeding stopped … he thinks? )  He hears Robin mutter something to Nancy, then sees her put her hand on her arm, so Steve watches and waits …  ‘ Don’t take this the wrong way — ’  Brows furrow and Steve turns his head, looking right where Will’s sitting. Frankly, the comment isn’t out of place  ( he looks like shit — covered in sweat and dirt, his own blood, those bat-thing’s blood, plus lake water doesn’t smell like perfume )  but it still catches Steve off-guard.  “ That bad? ”  he says, sort of … half joking.  “ Yeah, I guess I’ve looked better … And felt better. ”

@clericlost​

there’s  a  rhythm  stuck  in  his  head.     lyric - less and long,  no kate bush,  no DEAL WITH GOD to make anything less difficult to swallow,  a spoonful of glue on the roof of his mouth,  the seal of his lips where he gnaws and gnaws again and again,  on repeat.     the snap of bones.     the crack of lifeless limbs hitting the water,  a gunshot echo between his ears.     he wonders if it’s what hawkins saw in his body   [  his not - body  ;  when has it not been his not - body ?   ]  when they pulled it from the reservoir.     wishes he could muster a semblance of it now  :  still,  steady,  even in death—   not - death.     nothing like this incessant drumbeat in his bones,  chattered teeth,  bouncing ankles between the two pairs of shoes to his left and to his right.     so much motion in such little action.    [  there’s a hint of copper on the next bite down.  ]     it’s not enough.

when steve shifts,  everything quiets.     or rather this  :  comes back alive,  fluid finally flushed from underwater eardrums.     he blinks,  sees the barely - living instead of the dead for the first time in what feels like hours,  gaze gone warm and prickling,  a mouthful of overcooked guilt around a glance at steve’s throat.

he answers will’s not - question with a not - answer that sounds like gravel over linoleum.          “   it’s. . .   ”          wince,  more flinch than word,          “   max might have some tylenol or something. . .   ”          but it’s half - hearted  ;  genuine,  but distracted,  swallowed whole by the raw skin already turned ripe,  pink and rotting,  something sick dropping from will’s own neck to toes,  tangling slick and heavy in his stomach on its way.     a gag itches behind his teeth.          “   what,  um. . .     was it. . .   the vines ?     that did that ?   ”

[clericlost]

you?????? WHO???? ARE???? YOU???????

[clericlost]

-Ask Polly

[clericlost]

i know it’s not how the upsidedown works but i think the idea of people who are killed by it being able to haunt hawkins from the other side and still interact with lights and whisper through dimensions and shit that’s typically associated with hauntings anyway is kinda neat

[clericlost]

[clericlost]

byers shadysiders real