#POOKIE COME HOME

[jonathanbyersphd]

*Sighs Longingly*

[lonelybeeart]

quick tech sketch

[genesiswrld]

I miss Liu Kang😫😭

[ierofrnkk]

he’s like a little rat that I’ve pulled out of the lake

[burnyourtrains]

I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONYYYY 🐬🌈🐬✨🌊🐬🌈✨🌊

Ok 💕💕

[milequaritchsslut]

POLYNESIAN HUSBAND WHERE ARE YOU???

[sakurafire3]

I wish he was real too

what in the ever loving fuck is this in my drafts

[themiserablechick]

Miss Ethan Landry like I miss my father

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[byleriscanon]

welcome back mike's ugly sweater era

[jonathanbyersphd]

Missing Jonathan Byers hours

[nerdywitchgeek]

Why is it that I see a movie and discover the love of my life in a bright yellow suit?

[in-this-essay-i-wont]

Look. I know I am overthinking everything ever. I know. But there’s such a big fucking difference between howdys business and how it intertwines with his character and Eddie’s, because like LOOK BRO

The SMALL ASS TEXT THAT HAS EDDIES NAME???? COMPARED TO THE LARGE EMPHASIS THAT HOWDY HAS FOR HIS BUSINESS AND HIMSLEF???

Like Eddie’s name is so small and insignificant to the post office compared to howdys sign, like Eddie can barely find a place for himself and who he actually is outside of his function as a mailman- where as howdys name is the first thing for his sign! It’s huge! Like it’s a part of who he is, it’s a part of his love for jokes and laughter- compared to Eddie where it seems more of an all consuming way for him to lose himself in what he can function as, and not who he actually is. Which, ya know, kinda explains the whole breakdown before the party for home warming, because taking away his function leaves him with the little part of himself that he always seems too busy to express.

Chat this is devastating I need to be put down

[thenon-binaryone]

WE’RE GETTING THEM BACK SOMEONE SEDATE ME

[infernalwraths]

“That's a good kitty,” I say as I pet on kitty...

SCP

[h1stoa]