#i SAID i'm a homosexual having a panic attack

[fuctacles]

Hearing is important

For @steddiemicrofic "plug" | 437 | no cw | musician Eddie, crushes, pre-relationship | thanks @blasvemous for the idea 🥰

"Soundcheck in five! where the fuck is Eddie?!"

Eddie Munson was everywhere. Because somewhere in this fucking venue, there had to be a spare set of earplugs. He kept asking around, everyone had their own noise-canceling headphones on, but someone told him about spare cheap foam plugs in the green room.

He burst in there, grabbed a handful, and was now running around leaving a trail of neon foam pieces behind, searching for something better. He inevitably runs face-first into Chrissy's clipboard. 

"Eddie!" She grabs his shoulder in a vice-tight grip, her manicured nails surely leaving a bruised indent in his skin. "We need you for sound check!"

"Well, I need ear protection for Steve, because he's being stupid!" he huffs back, and her glare softens. 

Her eyebrows crease together while she holds his vibrating form anchored to their plane of existence.

"Did you check the green room?"

"Yes!" He waves the fistful of earplugs, and it's a good thing they're best friends, because he'd get decked otherwise. 

"Try the security room, I'll check with roadies."

He nods, and they move in separate directions, each with their own quest.

"Do the sound check without Eddie, something came up but he'll be there asap," Eddie hears Chrissy's voice in his ear. Sometimes, he wishes they didn't have unfortunate homosexual crushes on their friends so that they could become the perfect unproblematic heterosexual power couple. But alas. Steve and Robin existed and were fucking hot. 

Eddie was about to interrupt the broad men clicking through camera footage when he heard someone yell:

"Sir! Mr. Munson!"

And he turned his head to see a green-haired guy waving at him. He wears the same walkie and ear equipment as the rest of the staff so he takes a step back to look at him inquisitively. The guy waves a pair of headphones in the air and Eddie perks up with hope. 

"Heard you were looking for some ear muffs. I carry them around in case of panic attacks," he says once they reach each other. Eddie hesitates. 

"Are you sure it's okay?"

The man shrugs. 

"Just give them back to me at some point. I'm CJ, the staff knows me." He pushes the earmuffs into his hands. 

"Okay, shit, thank you so much!" Eddie grins, squeezing his arm in thanks. "I'll make sure they get back to you!"

And then he's off to find Steve. 

Steve, the lovely dumbass who said he doesn't need earplugs, he'll just take his hearing aid off. 

But Eddie needs him to hear the 'I love you' he's going to say once he grows a pair. 

[mulletmitsuya]

Toman Groupchat

Warnings: swearing, the topic of sex is brought up a lot, mentions of the r word (i don't actually say it i just say "r word"), gayness, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, teenage boys. also snuck in a lot of personal headcanons so that might not be your thing

Desc: Mikey lost his V-card

Mikey: just had the sex

Mikey: it's not all that, tbh

Mikey: i didn't like it

Mikey: i was quite indifferent to the situation actually

Mitsuya: that's great 👍

Smiley: you're the last one to lose your v-card and you come back with a report like this?😒

Smiley: we want details

Draken: whose we?

Mitsuya: no we don't

Chifuyu: it must have been difficult tackling the whole issue with you being 5'3 and all

Mikey: you're an inch taller than me😐

Chifuyu: "taller" being the key word

Baji: what didn't you like about the sex?

Baji: i think sex is great

Kazutora: i think it's super nice until you get in over your head and freak out about your performance so you end up having a panic attack and she just leaves

Smiley: LMAOOOOOO

Draken: that's actually kinda sad, you good?

Kazutora: no? i'll never emotionally recover. never again

Baji: maybe it should be with someone you trust and have been friends with for a number of years. maybe even your best friend who would do anything for you. that's just my opinion tho

Draken: just tell him ffs. anything but this

Kazutora: i have no girl friends?? the only women i know who're affiliated with this friendgroup are hina (taken), emma (mikey's sister and also taken), and yuzuha (gay)

Baji: why does it have to be a girl

Mikey: bro

Hakkai: 💀

Smiley: mention homosexuality once and here Hakkai comes

Hakkai: 😐

Kazutora: Baji i know you're gay and i support your lgbtq+ lifestyle but i'm not into dicks like you are man

Baji: what about assholes

Mitsuya: what's the point of this, like just ask him out atp

Mikey: you'd let KAZUTORA top???? insane

Kazutora: what's wrong with me topping? also who am i topping??

Smiley: well you're a twink so you're obviously a bottom

Chifuyu: Kazutora are you actually just gonna ignore what everyone else is saying

Kazutora: aren't you guys talking to Baji?

Draken: are you stupid or what

Kazutora: i'm really confused rn can we just to back to talking about Mikey

Mikey: yes actually. i've decided that i don't like sex and won't be doing it again

Chifuyu: bad day for Takemitchy

Takemitchy: what?

Chifuyu: well since you ride his dick so much

Takemitchy: HUH

Takemitchy: i've never done that with Mikey-kun tho??? i'm with Hina? also I'm straight so I don't understand what you mean by that 😥

Chifuyu: i don't actually mean-

Chifuyu: nvm

Baji: are we allowed to call people the r word anymore

Angry: no it's a slur

Baji: you're probably mad because people said it to you huh? lmao

Angry: yes

Baji: oh

Smiley: i didn't even mean it Angry it was just that one time

Angry: several, one times. but okay

Angry: i still love you

Smiley: can you not say that in front of our friends like idk what to do rn cause i can't say it back so it looks embarssing for you

Angry: 😕

Smiley: ...

Angry: ☹️

Smiley: i love you too

Angry: thank you

Chifuyu: very rare Smiley human decency moment

Draken: you guys are such weird siblings but that was great to watch. character development in a matter of seconds

Smiley: you should all kill yourselves

Mikey: man i really want to

Mikey: that was a literal joke before you guys get weird

Draken: you've actively tried to kill yourself tho

Mikey: yeah but like i won't do it anymore

Baji: we must just, believe you?

Mikey: i know that's hard to do because i lie all the time but yes

Draken: not a convincing argument but nice try

Mitsuya: terrible try actually. Mikey should we be worried?

Mikey: miss me with that gay shit, i'm fine

Mitsuya: i hate you guys so much

Draken: not me tho cause i'm your og

Mitsuya: 😐

Mitsuya: yeah i guess

Draken: 🤞

Draken: i'm gonna go out with my girlfriend now

Draken: also Mikey you're probably asexual. or you haven't found the right one to do it with yet idk

Mikey: what's asexual

Draken: google it

Mikey: Ken-chin c'mon i'm having a crisis rn

Draken: basically low or very little sexual attraction to others

Draken: there's a whole spectrum to it tho so you should probably do some research because that was an extremely watered down explanation

Draken: i'm ace too if that helps

Baji: Emma's a whole ass slut so how does she deal with that

Smiley: imagine bagging Ryuguji Ken with his sexy ass and he doesn't wanna smash. tragic

Draken: first of all, Baji i'll fucking kill you, never say that about Emma again

Draken: and fuck you Smiley

Angry: are you traumatized because of living in a sex orientated/obsessed environment so you eventually began to detest any affiliation with the act?

Draken: yes actually

Angry: i see

Mikey: i just don't like it. i'm not traumatized like Ken-chin :(

Draken: it's whatever

Baji: calm down i didn't call Emma a slut as an insult i just mean it as a describing word because she likes fucking

Baji: i've known her longer than you and she's been fucking since she knew what the thing was

Mikey: i probably should have addressed that as an older brother or something

Mikey: yk, cause i take care of my family

Baji: now she takes care of you with your chronically depressed ass

Mikey: 😒

Kazutora: is Emma also traumatized? like the opposite of Draken?

Mikey: wait should i ask?? her mom did abandon her and she did grow up without a father figure so like maybe i should talk to her

Smiley: you didn't have to dish out her problems like that 💀

Baji: she's got the Sano slut genes because wasn't Shinichiro falling in love with different people everyday? then your dad was impregnating people all the time. skipped Mikey tho

Draken: not everything is trauma related. also Emma just likes sex. it's not a huge deal breaker and if it was she would tell me and we'd talk about it

Mikey: what about having kids?

Draken: stop asking me this shit we'll do that when we're ready

Smiley: it's crazy how Draken is one of the healthiest people here. always reacting sensibly to situations and dealing with his trauma normally. he's such a good guy. hate him

Draken: love you too

Mikey: did he deal with it all that healthily if he beats people to a pulp most of the time

Draken: i stopped doing that

Baji: why though, you were an actual unit

Baji: wasted talent. i still beat people up

Draken: Emma said to

Mikey: fair

Smiley: Mitsuya could be on Draken's level too but something went wrong along the way cause he's a boy liker

Mitsuya: 🖕

[dykeiism]

whenever i see people talking about the purpose of mental health diagnoses, three reasons usually come up:

to encourage self-understanding

to concisely describe treatment options to professionals

to gain access to resources and accomodations

but it's hard for me to agree with any of these. given the harm associated with diagnosis, especially diagnosis of a personality disorder, i'm finding it increasingly difficult to justify diagnosing any mental disorder at all. below the cut is a breakdown of each of these three reasons, and why i believe that none of them hold up to criticism.

(1) to encourage self-understanding.

diagnostic criteria are so rigid that they discourage self-understanding. they fragment the human experience, categorizing it into easily digestible groups of "symptoms" rather than understanding a person's struggles holistically. this is why we have a phenomenon of people thinking, "well, my anxiety tells me this, but my depression tells me that" and "i'm having an intrusive thought but can't tell if it's coming from my ocd, ptsd, or bpd." diagnosis misleads patients into believing that, much like one might cough due to either pollen in the lungs or a respiratory illness, one might feel anxious due to either their generalized anxiety disorder diagnosis or their post-traumatic stress disorder diagnosis. a more accurate understanding of the human mind would necessarily involve doing away with the pathology of gad versus ptsd, and instead being able to understand that the anxiety might simply result from a combination of previous negative experiences, a naturally sensitive personality, and underdeveloped emotion regulation skills. a diagnosis is a description of a pattern of thoughts and behaviours; nothing more. my mental health conditions don't cause me to think or behave a certain way. rather, my thoughts and behaviours are similar to the thoughts and behaviours of other people who have also been deemed mentally sick. this makes it possible for doctors to use a certain diagnosis as a shorthand to describe my personality and skills (i refuse to call such things "symptoms") to other doctors. it does not mean that i have a sickness that causes me to think and act in certain way.

why would i want to understand myself through the lens of a psychiatrist, anyways? psychiatry is a deeply individual solution to systemic problems. we're living in a world that evolution could not prepare us for, yet we are told that there's something wrong with our brains if we're unable to adapt to these unprecedented living conditions. i refuse to believe that my brain is sick unless somebody has looked at my brain and can tell me where the sickness is. we must not forget that we're dealing with the discipline that understood homosexuality and hysteria as mental illnesses, and that initially understood autism to be a form of schizophrenia.

(2) to concisely describe treatment options to professionals

imagine, if you will, someone with post-traumatic stress disorder. all you know about them is that they have ptsd. now, recommend a treatment method for them!

nobody can give a good treatment recommendation based on that diagnosis alone. more information is needed: is the patient dealing with persistent general anxiety, sudden panic attacks, or a phobia? does the patient have compulsions? is the patient aggressive, anxious, or depressive? depending on the answers, the ideal treatment plan will be quite different.

now let's consider borderline personality disorder. there are 4 types of bpd and there are 256 possible ways to combine the 5 symptoms required for diagnosis (there are 9 symptoms in total). the personalities, cognitive abilities, and struggles of people diagnosed with bpd are quite diverse, and they will all require varying types and degrees of professional intervention. that being said, bpd is almost always treated with dbt and a few medication options including antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and anticonvulsants. there are so many other disorders that are treated with dbt and the same drugs. so why make bpd, bipolar, ptsd, cptsd, and depression their own diagnoses? what reason is there, other than to fragment our struggles and generate stigma?

my wish for the future of psychiatry is that, instead of being diagnosed with a disorder that is simultaneously very specific yet inexplicably vague, patients will be told "your struggles are related to trauma and emotional dysregulation. i recommend that you take an antidepressant and attend dialectical behavioural therapy sessions," or "your struggles are related to catastrophization and unhelpful behaviours, i recommend that you engage in cognitive behavioural therapy."

(3) to gain access to resources and accommodations

there are better ways to do this. i don't think anyone should be turned away from the accommodations that they need. however, if resources are scarce and must be gatekept, then a simple interview or quotient test will be sufficient in determining the level of need.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Gay teens who couldn't come to terms with their sexuality share how they removed their breasts and genitals in false hope that becoming transgender would 'cure' them, as concerns mount that 'gender-affirming care' for children is homophobic

By: Harriet Alexander

Published; Feb 3, 2024

Several young people who transitioned as teenagers, in a bid to cope with their sexuality, have spoken to The New York Times

They all said they wished their surgeons or those prescribing hormone therapy had asked more questions about their mental health and motivations

A study cited by the paper showed that 80 percent of those with childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty

Gay teenagers disturbed by their own sexuality have described deciding life would be better as a transgender person and undergoing surgery - only to regret it several years later.

The young people said that, in hindsight, drastic surgical operations were offered with insufficient discussion or thought. Their stories emerged as concern grows that so-called gender-affirming care for children is homophobic, as it permanently changes the bodies of children and young adults who are not transgender, but merely trying to come to terms with their sexuality.

One told of being abused online by trans rights activists when, after five years living as a trans man, they realized they wanted to revert to being a lesbian woman.

Another, who began transitioning from male to female at the age of 15, now campaigns against surgical intervention under 25 for anyone who has not had psychotherapy first. 

Yet another, growing up as a lesbian in a conservative community, convinced herself life would be easier as a trans man and had a double mastectomy - only to revert to living as a woman six years later.

Studies cited by The New York Times showed that many teenagers wrestling with their identity and sexuality ultimately found peace: 80 percent of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty, and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, the paper said.

[ Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, had a double mastectomy at 17 and lived as a trans man for five years ]

The effects of the hormone therapy, including infertility, are, however, often irreversible.

Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told The New York Times she saw living as a trans man as a better alternative to being a gay woman.

'I transitioned because I didn't want to be gay,' she said. 'I believed homosexuality was a sin.'

Emerick, who grew up in a conservative Christian church, told her mother at 15 that she was gay.

Her mother told her it was likely a response to her father, who was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly from the ages of four to seven.

At 16, Emerick was caught texting a girl, and her mother took her phone away: Emerick was then admitted to a psychiatric hospital.

Emerick convinced herself inside the hospital: 'If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.'

She said she found trans advocacy websites online, and felt she could 'pick the other side.'

At 17, after two 90 minute consultations, she was cleared for a double mastectomy - despite the anxiety, depression, suicidal tendencies, panic attacks and ADHD she was also suffering.

'I'm thinking, 'Oh my God, I'm having my breasts removed. I'm 17. I'm too young for this,' she recalled, but said she went ahead with the operation.

'Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn't control anything in my life,' she told the paper.

Emerick lived as a trans man for five years, but then realized she was no happier, and began detransitioning - despite online threats from trans activists.

'I thought my life was over,' she said. 'I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.'

One man, Paul Garcia-Ryan, lived as a woman from the age of 15 to 30, undergoing bottom surgery in college.

[ Paul Garcia-Ryan, now 32, founded an organization to help other young people considering surgery to transition - which he had, and regrets ]

He has detransitioned and is now, aged 32, a psychotherapist in New York, treating young people who suffer from gender dysphoria.

Garcia-Ryan told The New York Times he believes no one under the age of 25 should be allowed surgical procedures unless they have seen a psychotherapist.

He said he was driven to identify as a trans woman because he could not countenance being a gay man.

'It was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to,' he said.

He said that, when he sought medical help aged 15, the clinic immediately confirmed his own thoughts, rather than challenging them.

He said he had surgery in college, but suffered severe complications from the surgery and hormones, which made him reconsider his decisions.

'You're made to believe these slogans,' he said. 'Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.

'When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person's sense of self and closes off their options for considering what's possible for them.'

[ Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man living in British Columbia, transitioned at the age of 33, but argues that too many young people are not sufficiently questioned before undergoing the procedures ]

Grace Powell, who grew up in a conservative community in Grand Rapids, Michigan, said that she became convinced that her sexuality would be 'solved' by living as a trans man.

She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College.

Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told The New York Times she wished more questions were asked before she opted for the life-altering procedures.

'I wish there had been more open conversations,' she said.

'But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.'

Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man living in British Columbia, transitioned at the age of 33, and lives happily as a man.

But he said he left his job at a clinic treating gender-dysphoric young people because he felt there was not enough emphasis on mental health treatment, before surgical options or hormones.

He then founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition, to advocate better gender care.

'I realized something had gone totally off the rails,' he said.

[mangodestroyer]

Tbh, I can't decide if I'm bisexual or straight-up a homosexual. But something I've always liked about AziCrow is that these guys still love each other and try to be there for each other despite living in a world that just won't accept them.

Right now, I'm wondering if I've had homophobia directed toward me. It seems any time I admit to liking women and non-binary individuals while being genderqueer... people just get REALLY uncomfortable with me! Like, more so than they would be just because I also happen to be on the spectrum. Women and non-binary people ESPECIALLY seem to get uncomfortable with it (specifically if said individuals prefer men). Men try to convince me that I'm misguided. I mean... women and non-binary people also seem to "forget" about it after being uncomfortable with it and go back to insisting I must want to be with a man.

One thought that has popped up in my head recently is, "Am I not supposed to be attracted to women? Am I actually supposed to be with a man?" And that was honestly a wake-up call for me. I've come to realize that these experiences are leading to shame. I've been actively avoiding the genders I'm attracted to because of it (I'm also starting to realize that this might be why I have been having panic attacks).

Ig I just wish someone would pop up into my life who rejects social norms and would have that "forbidden" love with me. Hell, it could even be platonic. Just... someone who is over it like I am. Aziraphale and Crowley are exactly like this. They are outcasts together.

[my-castles-crumbling]

helloo i’m so sorry because i feel like you get this sort of ask all the time but i wanted some advice on how to come out or even if i should come out to my mom

for context- my parents were super into the right-evangelical church scene when i was really young. my dad is still that way, but my mom has shifted more to the middle road. it’s less middle road and more like “you live how you live, i’ll live how i live, i have bigger problems”. im an adult, but i currently live at home when im not at college and will continue to do so for quite a while. i hadn’t even really planned on coming out, because i know my dad would react badly and although i know she wouldn’t tell him, i dont want to stress her out more. i figured it would only come up if there was a long term girlfriend, but that really isn’t in the cards anyway because of my states increase in homophobic legislation

but recently at my parents church, there’s been an increase in casual homophobia/transphobia too, and the sermons are more often than not about avoiding “worldly beliefs” and “correcting” the idea that homosexuality is okay. i’ve always kinda known they were like this, but since i’m also somewhat spiritual/religious, it’s jarring and turns to guilt spirals really fast. because i live at home im expected to go, and if i don’t it upsets my mom and i really don’t like making her life harder. but last week i had a panic attack at work over the guilt spirals, and my mom is trying to figure out what’s causing it. we’re really close, so she knows when im avoiding something and she doesn’t believe any of the half truths ive given her so far. i don’t know how she’ll react though. she’s supportive of my aunt and her wife, and she kinda fought my grandma after she made a “at least she’s not gay” comment about me after i got my first boyfriend, but she’s also called bi and nonbinary people “confused” and has said stuff about traditional marriage being the expectation.

i don’t know if coming out would help, and i dont think i could handle the conversation going poorly. but i dont know what else to do

Hi! God, this sounds awful.

First, please remember that there is nothing to feel guilty for. You are absolutely perfect just the way you are.

When you said you don't know if you can handle the conversation going poorly, that made me nervous. So I'm wondering, is there a way to avoid going to church without coming out? Maybe say you have a lot of schoolwork to focus on? Even say you want to go to a different church? Because I'm thinking, if your parents get mad about that, at least they aren't upset about your identity, they're mad about a made-up reason.

I don't think coming out to your mom at some point is a horrible idea. But I think you should wait until you're out of the house and you have a more secure grasp on the fact that you are allowed to be unapologetically you.

Let me know what you think! Naming you church anon!

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 24

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.6k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird? Weird weird? He shrugged. He liked weird. In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Idk if the Cali group arrives in Hawkins on Saturday or Sunday. I'm going with Saturday. If that's wrong, well, this fic isn't canon compliant anyway. Also, Unnamed Freak (aka Dave) has a canon name now with Flight of Icarus: Dougie. I've corrected this entire fic on all platforms. If I've missed a "Dave" somewhere, please tell me. 🖤

24

The phone rang, jolting you from your research. On reflex, you stretched across the spread of opened spell books for the phone on the nightstand. Then you remembered you weren’t at home. You sat on the bed in one of Steve’s guestrooms.

When he didn’t ask you to answer the phone, you straightened and found where you’d left off. The ringing ceased, then Steve’s voice drifted through the open door. At one time, it would’ve been an annoyance. Now, it reminded you that you weren’t alone. You had people who knew you for who you were and weren’t wary of your abilities.

Last night, Robin had stayed through dinner and Back to the Future. Working at Family Video had its perks, because there was a waitlist to rent it. Robin and Steve had talked through the entire movie, asking about you and sharing about themselves, but you hadn’t minded. You learned that ‘Scoops’ was Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream parlor. It must be a Midwestern chain, because you’d never heard of it.

Robin bragged Steve had slung so much ice cream, they had to put in special orders. Steve shrugged, all bravado, yet his flushed cheeks belied his cool demeanor.

“You should’ve seen some of the girls who came in,” Robin had said, face reverent. “They must’ve come from Fort Wayne or Indy—”

Eyes wide, Steve had interrupted. “Yeah, they weren’t local, that’s for sure.”

You’d glanced at him, then at Robin. He’d tried to divert the conversation. Maybe to protect her? That had made no sense until you remembered you were in the Midwest, where homosexuality — or even bisexual tendencies — was anathema.

To Robin, you asked with a sly look: “That hot, huh?”

“God, I could barely keep eye con—” She curled her lips between her teeth, but rallied. “I mean, they were, like, super intimidating.”

You grinned with a minute shake of your head.

“No, I get it. Girls are hot.”

“Yeah…” she breathed, eyes going glassy. “Girls are hot.”

The conversation had paused as George confronted Biff on screen. When George and Lorraine walked away together, you’d reached for your drink and glimpsed Steve holding Robin’s hand. He noticed you noticing and opened his mouth to speak. You stopped him with an understanding look.

“So, is there a girl at school you like?” you’d asked before taking a sip.

Robin glanced at Steve, who’d offered an encouraging shrug. She’d smiled, giddy and love-struck, and gushed about Vickie. According to Robin, she looked like Molly Ringwald, but even cuter. Vickie was talented and funny and smart. Steve insisted Vickie was into her despite what they’d seen at The War Zone. Robin waved it away, saying Vickie had a boyfriend. It was a lost cause. She’d pine from afar.

You’d said, “Well, not necessarily. She could be bi.”

“I don’t know? It doesn’t seem likely.” She’d gnawed on her bottom lip. “I would normally say that’s ridiculous, because this is Hawkins, but—” She gestured at herself.

You’d narrowed your eyes playfully.

“You could still win fair maiden’s heart.”

Steve laughed. “You sound like Munson.”

“What can I say? He’s rubbed off on me.”

Robin had snorted. “Yeah, I bet that’s not the only thing he’s done.” You’d giggled even as your face heated. You grinned now thinking about it.

Knuckles rapped on the doorjamb. Steve stood in the doorway, the sleeves of his teal henley pushed up his forearms. His perfectly tousled hair framed his face, his jeans showed off the goods, and his Nikes were clean.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, lookin’ good.”

He put a hand on the back of his head and looked down as if bashful. Like he didn’t know how handsome he was.

You asked, “Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, that was Nance on the phone. She wants to donate some stuff at the school, and I offered her a lift. I think I’m going to volunteer while I’m there, too. You know, whatever they need.”

“That’s…” You first thought ‘surprising,’ but that was insulting. “That’s really generous of you.” You glanced at your suitcase overflowing with clean laundry. “Actually, I bet I have a few things someone else could use.”

“Oh, wow, sure.” He nodded. “You wanna come with?” He waggled a hand. “I mean, I know you’re not ready, but I was going to call Robin and Dustin. See if they wanna join.”

“I want to, but I can’t. I need to heal Lucas and Max.” You gestured to all the opened books. “That’s what I’m researching.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

He pointed at his left eye.

“Wouldn’t everything be a little easier if you had both?”

“Probably, but Max is worse than I am, so…” You looked at the books. “I can manage.”

He surprised you a second time when he said, “It’s hard to take that ‘put your own oxygen mask on first’ advice, but you should consider it.”

You met his earnest eyes.

“I will.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. You should be the guinea pig before you sprung a healing spell on Lucas or Max. While you were certain a healing spell would never harm, that didn’t mean it would be effective.

Marking your place in the book you’d been reading, you eased off the bed. You knelt in front of your suitcase to pick out a few pairs of socks, a free promo t-shirt you wore when cleaning, and a pair of tartan trousers you hadn’t worn since moving.

There was more at home you’d be happy to donate. You realized you could drop in after healing Max to pick up more — as long as your parents hadn’t returned.

When Steve stopped at your door, you handed over the clothes and told him of your plan. He brightened with a nod. You jokingly assured him not all your clothes were black and scary.

He lifted the stack of clothes.

“Just most of them.”

You laughed as he smiled at you.

He stepped back and said he was leaving, adding he’d leave the spare key on the foyer console. You thanked him and wished him luck before he skipped down the stairs.

As the front door snicked closed, you plucked the book from the bed and found a white tea-candle in your magic supplies. After placing both on the en-suite bathroom counter, you flipped on the light. With a deep inhale, you found your center. Time to be a guinea pig. You opened the book and lit the candle.

Holding your fingertips above the flame, you said, “Magic mend as candle burns; Affliction end and health returns.”

You brought your warmed fingers to the dark, tender bruise on your jaw and repeated the chant. Your skin heated almost to the point of pain. You closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Tendrils of cooling energy twisted through your flesh. You shivered and breathed through it.

Once the tendrils dissipated, you opened your eyes and withdrew your fingers. The bruise was gone. You wiggled your jaw, then put pressure where the bruise had been to find it recovered. Like Jason had never punched you.

That was one injury — and the lesser of the two.

You slipped the pressure patch from your eye and examined your reflection. The cursed eye was like any other injury, you rationalized. Surgeons removed damaged bits of the eye all the time. You were no surgeon, of course. You weren’t removing damage; you were healing it. That was different.

You couldn’t psych yourself out, though. It was like making the Creel house go unnoticed on Thursday. Size didn’t matter. Hence, the extent of the injury didn’t matter. It was all the same and all connected. There was plenty of energy in the candle, in the spell, in the universe, and in you to heal this.

You took a few deep breaths before holding your fingertips above the flame and reciting the chant. You closed your eyes as warm energy gathered. You brought your fingers to your left eye, swallowed the mounting tension in your throat, and repeated the chant.

Your fingers went numb. Heat radiated from your eye like needles of fire. Lightning burned under your skin. The floor left your feet. Or your feet left the floor. You couldn’t find the counter. You couldn’t move or think or orient yourself.

You clawed at the dark like a panicked animal. Red flashed across your vision. Rotting vines slithered across every surface, growing thicker. Their musty, sour smell invaded your nose. Your heartbeat thundered through the room. Red flashed again. A figure made of sharp edges and pain moved behind the vines. You stepped back. They stepped back. You reached forward. They reached forward. You screamed at them. Their mouth opened as though mocking you.

You charged forward to thrust your hand between the vines. Your palm hit cold glass. You met the figure’s eyes. They were your own.

You stumbled away. Your back slammed into something hard. Each blink of your eyes tore you through different realities. The gray Upside Down, your sunny reality, glowing lava fields, a silent city made of slate, a world full of unvoiced secrets, neon lights and the scent of stale beer. Time curved in on itself. No future, no past. On and on it flowed until you yelled for it to stop, stop, stop.

The soft bathmat cushioned your calves. You held onto the counter edge with your forehead pressed against the wood cabinet. The side of your nose filled the left border of your vision.

The spell hadn’t worked.

“Shit.”

You hauled yourself to your knees and braced your elbows on the counter. Thin tracks of blood ran down your reflection’s left cheek.

“Shit.”

You stood and bent over the sink to examine closer in the mirror. The cursed eye didn’t look any worse. Its milky pupil and iris were the same as before. Rheumy blood flaked under your touch.

If the spell hadn’t worked for you, you doubted it would work for Max. She’d taken part of the curse, the same as you. Your eye wasn’t only injured. It stood to reason her arm wasn’t only broken. Then you remembered both her eyes looked like your left.

This was more complex than any healing spell could manage—

Which you said to Lucas after mending his swollen cheek and eye.

From behind him, Erica asked, “Can’t you kill this son of a bitch already?”

You glanced over her shoulder at Susan, who slept on the alcove couch.

“I don’t know if a spell would reach him.”

Lucas turned to Erica.

“And if she kills him, she could kill Max.”

You frowned.

“Why do you think that?”

“El said she couldn’t find Max,” he said, tapping his temple.

He’d explained when you’d first arrived the other members of the party were back in town. On Thursday, El had fought Vecna by connecting to Max’s mind, while Vecna was also connected to Max. El then said Vecna had roared in pain and disintegrated into smoke in his own mindscape. Nancy had connected that to her shooting him and Robin Molotov-ing him.

El had seen Max unconscious in Lucas’s arms afterwards. She felt Max’s steady heartbeat then. Max’s heart continued to beat, which the EKG confirmed. However, El entered Max’s mind this morning to find a void.

“You think she’s with Vecna?” you asked.

Erica said, “Or she’s brain-dead.”

Lucas’s face became a mask of absolute anguish.

“Harsh,” you said to her.

Erica shrugged in lieu of saying it was a possibility. It might be, but you didn’t want to give up hope just yet. Lucas returned to the bedside chair to page through The Talisman. There had to be something you could do or something you could offer.

Erica cursed under her breath and went to Susan. After Erica repeated Susan’s name and shook her shoulder numerous times, she woke with a grumble. Erica announced it was two o’clock. Susan blinked in sullen confusion. Erica said Susan had work at four.

Susan’s voice was hoarse when she said, “O-of course. Thank you.”

Erica backed away as Susan coughed with a wince and sat up. She sounded like shit. Her pallid face looked more tired than yesterday.

You asked, “Would you like some water?”

Her drowsy eyes settled on you.

“Oh, you’re back.” She couldn’t seem to muster a smile, but she looked pleased. “It’s good to see you.”

Without waiting for an answer, you went to the squat pitcher and disposable cups on the overbed table and poured her some cool water. Her hands trembled as she took the cup from you, but she managed drinking half the water in one go. That appeared to revive her, and you offered her more.

She nodded with a soft, “Yes, please.”

As you filled her cup, you thought of a quick blessing. She needed strength to see this situation through. For all you knew, she might be the key to bringing Max back, because despite what Erica said, you didn’t think Max was brain-dead.

By the time Susan finished the water, her green eyes had brightened. She stood, fluffed her hair, and straightened her rumpled clothes. She announced she was going back to the motel to shower and change before work, and if anything happened, to give her a call.

You, Lucas, and Erica promised. Susan nodded to herself and hooked her purse over her shoulder. She went to Max, righted one of her braids, and murmured something to her. She hesitated a second, taking a quick look around, before leaving the room.

You placed the pitcher on the overbed table and threw Susan’s cup in the bathroom wastebasket. The tense silence made you aware of every noise you made, from the swish of the wastebasket liner to the crinkle of your clothes and faint footsteps. Rhythmic squeaking of wheels came from the corridor.

Watching the EKG display, you thought of something you could do:

“I can look for Max, too. I don’t have El’s powers, of course, but Max and I, we’re connected.” You shook your head. “I… I might have a better chance of finding her or finding a clue to get her back.”

Lucas asked, “Are you sure?”

“What if Vecna’s got her, and he takes you?” Erica leaned her elbows on the overbed table. “Then we’re down a magic-user — and we need as many as we can get.”

“He can’t get me here. He tried before and he failed.”

“But you died.”

“And yet, here I am, talking to you.”

“Died.”

You threw out your hands. There was no arguing that fact. Yes, you had died. Yes, Vecna’s curse had killed you. Nevertheless, you were alive. Also, Vecna was wounded.

Lucas asked, “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t know? Connect with her somehow?”

You thought of psychometry. Through touch you’d seen Eddie’s past. Perhaps through touch you could see Max’s. If you could see when the curse hit her from her point of view, maybe that would show you how to get her back.

“Maybe I can’t communicate with her,” you said. “But I might be able to see how Vecna took her.”

“Then you could reverse his steps.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Lucas sighed in thought, tapping his fingers on the book. He came to a conclusion before looking at you.

“It’s worth a shot.”

Erica huffed in disapproval and retreated to the couch.

You propped a hip on the bed, facing Max. Her delicate fingers curled over the cast. You tucked your hand around them and closed your eye.

Unlike with Eddie, you didn’t have to tell Max to relax and trust you. You loosened your shoulders, breathing deep. You focused on her hand, the stillness of her fingers and the fine skin of her knuckles.

The room went cold. Ambient noise disappeared. The mattress sagged under your weight.

Max’s grip tightened.

You opened your eyes. The pressure patch was gone — as was Max’s cast. She stared at you through milky eyes in a younger face. Her now-smaller hand held fast to yours.

The world went wound-red and drained of life. Only you and she remained in the room. No leaves grew on the trees outside. A motionless, stormy sky hovered close. You were in a frozen, bloody version of your world, like a paused horror movie.

“I can’t sleep,” said Max.

“You’re sleeping in our world.”

“What? How?”

“This isn’t your world.”

“Am I dreaming?”

You hadn’t considered that. She could be dream-walking. If she were, why would she choose this? Why would she be younger?

You said, “I don’t know, but you need to leave this place.”

“You mean I need to wake up?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I can’t. I can’t switch back. I don’t know how.” She frowned. “Where’s El?”

“I don’t know.”

Instinct kept you from telling her El had been at the hospital to visit her earlier in the day. This younger Max could be an illusion. You could be talking to Vecna. Or Vecna could be listening.

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“I was fighting Vecna, and he threw me. Everything went dark.”

“And then?”

“And then I woke up in the goddamn Upside Down.”

You examined the room, noticing how much differed from what you’d seen through the tumbler.

“You sure this is the Upside Down?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s red, and where are the vines? The lightning? The demo-creatures?”

From nowhere, an invisible force pushed you backwards. Your foot skidded across the floor. You held onto Max’s hand. She bent forward to stay with you, then struggled to her knees. Your hip dropped off the crumbling mattress. You gripped the edge of the tattered sheets until they tore.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Don’t go!”

“I’m trying!”

But there was nothing to fight against.

You met her panicked gaze.

“We’ll find you! Wherever you are, we’ll find you!”

Your heel hit the floor. You lost your hold on Max’s hand. She screamed your name, crawling to the end of the bed. You pitched backwards, your heel the focal point. For a second, it felt like flying.

You landed hard on your side. Your ears rang. Like Dorothy landing in Oz, the world bloomed in technicolor. The pressure patch was back. Hands rolled you onto your back. Above you, Lucas and Erica blurred and sharpened. Their mouths moved, but their voices couldn’t overpower the ringing. You touched Lucas’s shoulder to confirm you’d returned.

The room dimmed. Shadows deepened. The three of you paused.

Red light flared through the window. Thunder vibrated the glass, restoring your hearing. You froze. You’d brought the Upside Down — or wherever you’d been — with you. Any second, those rotting vines would slither over the walls, the floor, Max’s bed.

Lucas helped you sit. Erica peered at the window on the other side of the bed. The clouds darkened further. When the vines didn’t appear, you used the bedframe to hoist yourself to your feet. Erica went to the window first, Lucas right behind her. You followed them, keeping to the shadows. You dared not look at any reflective surface, lest that sharp-edged figure look back.

Red lightning cut through the iron gray tower of smoke now spewing from the mega-gate’s nexus. Deafening thunder shook your bones. Warmth quaked in your gut a second later, silver and true. It filled the emptiness that had settled days ago.

-

Pitch black surrounded him. He lay on ice — or something like it. It curved around the back of his bare arms, cooled his body numb. So numb he couldn’t move. And he needed to move. There was work to do, someone to find, wrongs to right. Too much had gone wrong in the world. Too many injustices to name. He could make it right. He could help, gather, hunt.

Blood hung in the air. Screeches echoed through his mind, a hungry call for vengeance. Vines pulsed with wrath. The Source promised a righteous purpose larger than himself. The Source was a kindred soul: misunderstood, rejected, and enraged by the world’s hypocrisy. They were misfits together.

And there was no need to be frightened of anything anymore.

He searched the dark, his fingers not offering the answers he needed. He moved his legs and found the curve of the surface he lay on. Raising a foot, his toe bumped into something hard and smooth inches above. He let his heel fall as he walked his hands across the surface. He pulled it down his body. Whatever he was on moved instead.

He walked his hands above his head to find more of the same smooth surface. To his left were round protrusions, like bolts. Yes, he thought, bolts. Bolts meant hinges. Hinges were weak points.

More bolts were on the right. That was the hinge. The left was the handle. Handles were weak points, too.

He placed his palm on the handle bolts.

The Source said he could free himself. Something as mundane as this wouldn’t injure him.

He slammed the heel of his palm below the bolts. The handle rattled. He struck a second time. The handle whined. He struck again. The handle clanged in the background. He waited for someone to come investigate — police, a guard, even an assistant. He pushed the hatch open and waited a few minutes more. It was nominally brighter beyond, yet there was enough light to see he lay on a metal drawer.

He pulled himself through the portal. The drawer rumbled. Still, no one came. All around the portal were similar metal doors with chrome latch handles. He recognized it for the morgue it was.

He’d been dead. He was dead.

The Source contradicted the thought, saying everyone had mistaken him for dead. They’d not looked close enough. They’d abandoned him. They’d thrown him away. Only Source accepted him and had seen him for the valuable individual he’d always been.

He sat and scooted up the drawer to maneuver his legs out. The skin on his torso pulled. He looked down and gagged. Lines of black stitches or patches of missing flesh disfigured his chest and stomach. He touched the flap of skin on a patch on his right side. It should’ve hurt—

Nothing hurt.

He should’ve been cold. He’d been in a refrigerated box for who knows how long, but he wasn’t.

The Source assured him he was beyond pain.

His right calf and left thigh had been gnawed on, too. Someone had attempted to repair the damage with more black stitches. Those injuries didn’t pull like his torso.

That hardly mattered, though. He needed to leave— wherever the fuck he was. He needed clothes for that, because he was very, very naked. Making anything right usually required covering your ass.

He slipped off the drawer, landing on feet that didn’t feel like his own. His legs wobbled. Every wound protested as he straightened. The skin stretched little by little until he could stand.

A shelving unit stacked with linens stood by the main door. He found a scrub top and held it up. His bare hands felt as naked as the rest of him. That wasn’t how it should be. He only took off— No, he hadn’t taken off anything. He was supposed to see someone. They were waiting— No, no one was waiting for him. Everyone thought he was useless — and dead.

He was forgetting someone— No, they’d forgotten him. He touched his upper chest. Something should be there. They’d stolen something from him.

Yes, someone had taken something from them. He needed to find this person— No, wait for this person. They had an essential component in Source’s plan, and he had to capture it.

-

“Something’s changed,” you said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Lucas, pointing towards the window. “The Upside Down is invading Hawkins.”

You shook your head.

“No, I feel the pull of something.”

You didn’t want to say you felt the silver flame of Eddie’s energy for the first time in days. That sounded hokey even to yourself. If the emptiness — which had to have been Eddie — was filled, it meant Eddie was alive. You couldn’t desert him. You had to find him.

Erica said, “You can’t go now.”

Lucas nodded.

“The party doesn’t separate.”

“Even if it’s for a member of the party?”

“Who is it?”

“I think it’s Eddie.”

“What about Max?” he asked. “Did you find her?”

With a nod, you explained the paused, red world where Max couldn’t sleep. Max thought she was dreaming, but you weren’t sure it was her dream. You theorized it was an illusion to keep her stuck. There had to be something to get her unstuck. She wanted to switch back, but she didn’t know how.

“She exists in two worlds,” you said. “Her body in ours, her mind in another.”

“Or in Vecna’s mind.”

“We have to unite her,” said Erica.

“She asked where El was, but I didn’t tell her. Because I don’t know, and because I didn’t want Vecna finding out.” The pull of Eddie being alive nagged at your consciousness, and you shook your head. “Look, I can’t stay. I gotta find Eddie.” You grabbed your purse from where you’d left it by the door. “Guard Max. Hide her, if you have to.”

Erica and Lucas shared a look.

“We can do that,” he said.

You gave them a nod before leaving the room. Eddie’s energy drew you outside. Though you didn’t understand, you took the service stairs down. Hospital personnel pushed open doors and passed you on the stairs without questioning you.

While the first-floor corridors bustled with people and staff, a hushed tension overlaid every conversation. You swerved around anxious groups of two or three and the occasional thousand-yard-stare loner.

Outside, the scent of smoke and hot ozone had your eyes near burning and your nose on the verge of running. Ash fell like snow from the low ceiling of the clouds. It disappeared when it touched your skin.

You brought your shirt collar over your nose, then crossed the parking lot to your car. You stowed your purse in the trunk and pocketed the keys. There, you hesitated. If Eddie wasn’t in the hospital, he could be anywhere. Perhaps Wayne had identified him and took him to another hospital. However, there wasn’t another hospital in Hawkins. Maybe he was at a doctor’s office. His wounds might’ve looked worse than they were. That didn’t explain his absence from Indra’s net or his reappearance, though.

You turned to the path that led through the trees at the back of the parking lot. Except for funeral homes, only the hospital and coroner’s office could store dead bodies. If Eddie was in a funeral home, word about it would’ve been everywhere by now.

His energy wasn’t far, yet it was muddled, like poor reception on a TV. You tried getting more of a read on him. Pain lit your nerves, making you back off. You pressed your shirt over the bridge of your nose and breathed deep.

Fine, you thought. The coroner’s office it is.

You had to get yourself worked up. An injured girl near tears could get sympathetic assistance and soothing information. You made your breath shallow and rapid as you marched across the parking lot. You brought to mind every stressor: your father rejecting your every idea, being a stranger in this town, Vecna disfiguring your face after stealing your magic, making mistake after mistake and not finding the strength to get over it or fix it, finding Eddie and losing him all in one night.

Tears rimmed your eyes as you walked under the coroner’s office awning. You righted your shirt and pushed at the door. It clanked in its frame.

“What the hell?”

You caught your breath. Maybe you had to pull it. You tried that, earning another clank.

It was locked. Still.

That was complete bullshit.

Your tears evaporated as you grit your teeth. You would not be kept from him any longer. It didn’t matter if he was alive, dead, or undead. You would see Eddie.

You placed a palm over the deadbolt.

“You are undone,” you whispered to it.

Its screws unwound and fell to the floor. The outside cover tumbled off. The interior mechanism flicked open and teetered in the hole. You encouraged it to drop with a jab.

You swiped the cover from the sidewalk before entering the building. Inside, you gathered the deadbolt pieces and dumped them in a potted plant in the dim waiting room. You went to the empty check-in counter to find the area beyond it vacated and dark, save for the blinking lights of the desk phone.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the reinforced door to your left. With nowhere to run, you put on an innocent expression and curled your shoulders inward. A guard in fatigues tore back the door while another rushed into the waiting room, guns in hand.

“Hands up!” said the closest guard as the door closed behind them.

You raised your hands as your gaze bounced from one to the other. They both had black armbands with MP decorating the side. Military police. Your hunch yesterday about the Humvees had been correct.

“How did you get in here?”

“The front door?” You glanced at it. “The lock’s gone.”

“State your business.”

“I can’t find my-my parents.” You didn’t have to force any nervousness with two guns pointed at you. “They’re not at the hospital. And… and-and the ER told me to check he-here.”

The MPs scowled.

A frenzy of banging and clanging came from behind the door. The MPs turned from you with guns at the ready. You took a step back, heart in your throat.

What were they keeping back there?

The door flew off its hinges, springing off the linoleum by its corner. It ricocheted and crashed into an MP, who toppled to the floor. The door landed to cover his top half. His gun skidded into the waiting room.

“Back away!” yelled the remaining MP. “Hands up!”

You turned your attention away from the gun, thinking he yelled at you. Rather, his attention was on the person in the doorway.

You almost didn’t believe your eyes. You’d expected a demogorgon or some other sort of hellish creature. It was neither. It was Eddie. Unmistakable, even backlit by the severe hallway light. His usually wild hair hung limp around his face. Green scrubs had replaced his clothes.

Eddie hissed at the MP and stomped onto the collapsed door. The MP underneath bleated in protest.

If he kept on like this, he was going to be shot.

“Eddie?”

He turned his focus on you, his blank expression so unlike himself.

The MP shouted, “I said, hands up!”

Eddie’s eyes had you taking another step back. They were like your left: cursed. His skin was waxen like the dead. A tag hung from his big toe. You didn’t know who this was, but he wasn’t your Eddie. He felt like him, looked like him, had his silver flame, but he wasn’t Eddie.

The door was less than a yard away. You could make it out before anyone would reach you. Once outside, you could dash to your car — or lead Eddie away from the hospital.

You pivoted on one foot. A cold body plowed into yours. Hands grabbed your upper arms. The check-in counter dug into your back. Eddie reared up over you.

He’d moved too fast to be natural. In comparison, the MP turned in slow motion.

Eddie pulled the pressure patch down your face.

With a pleased look, he said, “Ah, I see you’re half ours already.”

His breath smelled of old blood.

“Eddie, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have you join us?”

He leaned in to drag his nose over your cheek, inhaling as he went. You closed your eyes and pinched your mouth shut. His dry, cracked lips skipped up your cheek.

“Pretty, pretty witch.”

“Show me your hands,” ordered the MP.

“Should I let him shoot me?” Eddie asked you.

“Don’t shoot,” you called over his shoulder. “He’s… He’s not hurting me.”

Eddie hummed in your ear. “Take me to Max.”

You couldn’t let him get his hands on her. He’d take her to Vecna. If Vecna had you, Max, and Eddie — all cursed in one manner or another — it would be a recipe for destruction. He’d drain you like a vampire, sacrifice Eddie, and use Max as a pawn. Or maybe something even worse. You couldn’t let any of that happen.

You arched away to look into Eddie’s cursed eyes, so much like your own. You’d tear Vecna limb from limb for this. Apart from El, only you had power enough to destroy him. And you could with the Eradix spell you’d found on Thursday.

“Step away from the girl!”

Eddie snarled and turned his head like a predator. He released your arms before you could protest. You reached for his shirt to keep him with you. Your fingers grasped air.

A triple pop of gunfire had you hunching and covering your head. The waiting room window shattered. A gust of smoke and ash poured into the building. Boots shuffled across the floor. The MP grunted as something clattered.

You wanted to look, make sure Eddie hadn’t been shot, but you needed to get out of there. A wet gurgle and grind turned your stomach. You scurried to the main door, pulling it open. Wind dragged the door from your hand. It thudded against the wall.

With a flinch, you peeked over your shoulder. Eddie stared back. Blood dripped down his chin. The MP hung slack from his hands.

Everything narrowed.

Then everything sharpened as you steadied the main door and sprinted to the street.

[sapphyreopal5]

I’ve noticed a lot of the fandom attacking Jensen all because a character on the show 9-1-1 was revealed to be bisexual and people are saying that’s Jensen’s a coward and a homophobe which I don’t believe because he was willing to do a sex scene with Tony Starr before they changed the storyline, but Jensen’s homophobic because he didn’t want his canonically straight character to kiss Mr. Chapped Lips? How does that make sense? I was just curious if you had an opinion about this

Hello Anon, thank you for the ask :) Mr. Chapped Lips, HA love it! People have been calling Jensen homophobic for years now unfortunately. This clip from Asylum 3 back in 2009 shows him saying "You know, I would say yes, but then Brokeback Mountain came out, and my desire to do a cowboy film completely tanked" when someone asked if he'd like to do a cowboy movie. In 2013, he also essentially stated in this clip he's going to pretend he doesn't know what the question was when someone was asking a question (partially asked, mind you) starting with "I love your character becoming more comfortable with himself this season. I'm bisexual and I have noticed some possible subtext that you might be..." to which he started off with saying "I'm thoroughly confused" and essentially shoos off the question... It is possible this Jensen receipts Twitter account is a Destiel account (seems to me it is) but the clips do show what was said at different conventions to show you why people believe Jensen Ackles is homophobic.

Of course, us logical people who DID watch the show know it is NOT canon for Dean to be homosexual at all. Why Misha calls it a love confession, pandering to the loud members of the Destiel shippers crowd is 'cause $$$ I found the above GIFs from this post here but thought I'd have the GIFs on here for VISUAL purposes, so these people can have a direct point of reference staring them right in the face. The episodes in question that post mentions where Dean specifically says he's straight in his own quirky ways are Croatoan (Season 2, Episode 9), Jus in Bello (Season 3, Episode 12), and Live Free or Twihard (Season 6, Episode 5). Of course, I don't agree with the original poster this was merely because he was "in danger" and stressed out from it. He likely went with the gay couple scenario with Sam in Bugs (Season 1, Episode 8) as to not "cause waves" with potentially buying a house keep attention elsewhere as far as not looking suspicious with investigating.

As far as the said scene he was going to do with Antony Starr prior to the changing of the story line, I am assuming it is this you're talking about that is in the original comics. I see the show changed it so that Homelander is in fact Soldier Boy's son, which makes sense as to why he refused to do the scene. Instead, we got the "Herogasm" episode in season 3. Now as for why the script changed from the original comics to this episode, I don't know.

My overall opinion is, Jensen is probably tired of people talking about Destiel. It's not canon to the show period. Also, do people realize what phobes are? Genuine yet extreme fears. It is one thing to not like something or to have prejudices or discriminate against something, but it's another to fear it. To differentiate between these things, I am linking this website here and also copy and pasted the chart included in it for visual references. To discriminate is to deny rights, privileges and opportunities to members of a particular group. To have prejudice against something is to have an unfair and unreasonable feeling or opinion of something often formed without enough knowledge or thought. Having a phobia means to have an extreme, irrational, fear of something that may cause a person to panic and is described as being a type of anxiety disorder. Now, does Jensen actively fear or straight up avoid gay people or Destiel fans? No. He has still signed things or taken photographs with Destiel fans over the years, despite saying Destiel doesn't exist multiple times. Maybe not with the biggest smile in the world about it but he has not denied taking photos with any of them or complained hardcore about it.

I said in another post it's possible Jensen is not straight but is bi leaning more towards women. However, I do not believe he will act upon this as far as being in a relationship with anyone who isn't a woman (despite the fact he's still currently married to Elta). As far as a recent clip I saw floating around somewhere that a Destiel fan was told they couldn't ask their question about Destiel (despite Misha saying they can ask), I say that this causes unnecessary controversy and that Creation wants to keep things pleasant for everyone. Destiel fans are straight up too aggressive and pushy about making their ship canon and reality for several years now, despite Jensen and others saying no it isn't. If Jensen were to kiss any man, it honestly would not be Misha. Sorry not sorry here...

Thanks for the ask Anon.

[julie-su]

for the ask game how about.... Elias? If not him then Tikal?

Elias my beloved <3

Sexuality Headcanon: I am a Bisexual Elias truther XD Gender Headcanon: I like to think he's a trans man A ship I have with said character: I am an Elias and Megan understander. Imagine disappearing into the woods and you find a beautiful woman who you love, and this woman's already pregnant and you don't have to do the mathematics what with him being a trans man, you just get to have a beautiful wife and daughter. Living the dream. A BROTP I have with said character: I think Elias becoming BFF's with grandpas is the funniest thing. I legally require for him to befriend not JUST Chuck, but also the entirety of the Brotherhood of Guardians. You get invited to a boys' night with Elias and you wonder if you accidentally walked into Bingo Night. A NOTP I have with said character: The ones I'm thinking of go without saying XD but on the not morally heinous scale... I don't know, really! A random headcanon: When he was younger, he was convinced that he was just a weird shaped echidna... All of the absailing he does is in fruition to feel closer to gliding, humoring his younger self. General Opinion over said character: I love Elias with my whole heart! Actually, when choosing a middle name, I chose Elias because of him. ... I might as well do Tikal, too, whilst I'm here X3

Sexuality Headcanon: Gay gay homosexual gay Gender Headcanon: I think Tikal has her own connection with gender, but I can only describe what I'm thinking of with the vague umbrella term of genderqueer XD A ship I have with said character: I do like some fics and art of Shade and Tikal having a 'Romeo & Juliet', though they end just as tragically, as Tikal is sealed in the M.E, and Shade is sent to the Twilight Cage >w> so.. Tragic. A BROTP I have with said character: Knuckles and Tikal make a killer duo, if you go with Spirit Tikal from Post-SGW Archie! I also think she really enjoys her time spent with Relic, I think she rarely gets asked about herself and her origins, so it's really nice for her to be able to sit and just talk. A NOTP I have with said character: Folllowing on from the above, I doooon't really like Knuckles being shipped with Tikal. It just feels... Wrong? A random headcanon: Tikal suffers from the 'feed a victorian child MTN Dew and they will explode' phenomenom. If her body became tangible, and you put her on Extreme Gear or a car such as TSR, she's having a panic attack. She's mortified, she's miserable, she has NO clue what is going on, and she just realised that this thing is incredibly easy to ram into people and completely incapacitate them. 'Oh, why, cruel aurora, was such a contraption ever concieved!?' General Opinion over said character: Tikal is the reason I'm a ding dang Sonic fan, so it's safe to say I like her a lot XD You really chose two of my all-time favourites here!

[nerdykeith]

So David Archuleta taking a break from his religion after coming out? Well honestly I really don't blame him. Looking back in retrospective of my own coming out, being an atheist in my younger years was probably the best thing I could have done for myself. There is so much homophobia promoted within organised religion and those with conservative interpretations of many religions. It really turned me off religion and Christianity for so many years. I'm a Christian now, because I now understand that it doesn't have to be interpreted literally and progressive christianity is a thing. Not only that but we don't have to view being gay as a sin, God makes no mistakes and Jesus never said a thing about homosexuality. What Jesus did teach was to love all humankind. But at the time of my coming out, I just wasn't there yet.

So Archuleta was experiencing panic attacks and having suicidal thoughts? Honestly he should not worry about his faith for now, he needs to work on himself and his own happiness. Honestly we need to be free to go through our own process and follow our own path. Wish him all the happiness in the world.

[juszar2]

Yuck and..... Gross. The mentally ill and disablingly weak.

If you pined over a woman for her whole life, pined over being her... Or role playing as if you are her and you are homosexual and she is not. It was easy to find another Obsession I'm sure. The ones like you or a manly woman another one of those maybe. The weakest can't even go to a fast food restaurant and order thru the drive thru even without a panic attack would be very useful in your Buffalo Bill kinda life and pursuit of the woman, his weakness would truly make him scared even to rebuff your really trashy self and your advances. Scared to not be "cool" with you, the kind he says the worst things about. He is a fraud of course. But yes, his cowardice and interest in an opinion of him that he is "cool" would have him get under the cabinet. It is sad because nobody knows that he can't even go to a fast food place and order, that mind is weaker than toilet paper. Hides it good with others. Yes, he is the definition of weak and really scary and a huge liar.... So all of the trash you are is familiar to a weak one. Class if in my presence for life and then turn to trash with neighborhood Rot knowing it and laughing their asses off. What a disgrace and vile. But I've seen why it is and I understand what it is a lot better. If he could be such a trifling aids seeker simp with my enemy, the likes of a lifelong what he calls "black gay whore", of course he is trash. I'm sure it is gratifying to simp a coward as you pursue your lifelong obsession... Me. They are so gross and when I say the biggest mistake of my entire life he is. If I could erase and have Nothing of him I would in an instant. I would not want a pet with him. Because for me, his mental illness have so many other possible detriments, concerns. I covered for his weakness. That is crazy. I covered for him. A huge coward and I covered it, tried to sooth it. He is a swindler innately. No respect for him. His mouth is a liar, his eyes, his back all look like a liar. It is a darker different foul aura. I would tell him nothing. Yes, I know Rot tells its other Rot friends still 12 years old like it is.. How stupid you know he is. How easy, he knows its my enemy. How for life the homosexual has pined over me. Who does she think she is... That homosexual said. How dare she have no criminal record, be beautiful, be wanted, be smart and why are they "bragging" on her it said. And meanwhile I'm as modest as can be. As humble and not wanting to ever see a Rot. Striving for so much more and I got sick freak shows pining over and emulating me. That's what it did with its life. And what he did was not much with his so an invitation to the closet with the Rot side of life fits him. Yuck, if I could go back I'd say if you don't get out of my face.

How detrimental and surely weak to let his spouses enemy infiltrate his family, he'd have to be the lowest you could find. My beautiful life where I had the chance to do so much and it turned into this with Rot community members already obsessed over me in collusion to simp this toilet paper knowing they cannot reach nor get my attention I am not interested in the brand.

Even a man the Rot homosexual was in jail with wouldn't be that low. Even he'd say I don't think so Rot. But coward can't go to the store or order at a food window, if offered a closet, he'd go in there with what you look like. And my enemy. Its really gross. I honestly do strive for class in my life. I avoided what I thought was trash... And turns out I got a cowardly low life bitchable slime. Simple trash might have been a better gamble. And surely he is a simp... And real real unsophisticated to that kinda con. Never is when I would trust, they'd say they'd beat him up and he'd turn on his own family scared... Whom again I'll say that he cannot even take care of and is not the leader of. It is the saddest and all involved with me who saw him in the past and knows of the details of this disgusting Rot situation have their faces look so disgusted when they see the Rot and hear of his sneaky snakish lying vile that his forever scary self is. You could fool easily, but then ya also have to factor in his scariness. It is all bad and no man. But... Targets are not responsible for this and did not invite anyone to stalk them nor even invite him to ask to be in my life. He diligently asked me year over year. But make him feel like he cool, let him pretend, get some bystanders and friends to help ya entertain and con him and his fear and cowardice not to offend anyone and have a negative opinion of him does lead him. Me on the other hand I don't want to encounter, live by, work with or know of Rot and you can kiss my ass is my feeling about any stalking scorn that comes about from that. God knows that I definitely should always avoid a Rot. This situation really confirms that. This low life turned out to be detrimental. It really is shocking. If ya heard his lies and anger that anyone would think he is that... When that is exactly what he is just a lot less even. Yes everyone knows its a low life and my enemies are so so happy about it. Imagine this kinda "man" he needed a tramp from the worse part of town with some of everything in its life... Like this homosexual stalker. But its issue with me is born out of a lot of its confusion... Its a game to con this toilet. Every day I say God... I don't want his children. Could you erase him... Make it not have ever happened? I could have had these children with anyone decent. They'd be similar to me like they are and likely successful the same. I just don't want that of him. God knew he was this and really did try to show me.... And some did try to tell me living and dead. So crazy. Tried to tell me every night the same thing each night for weeks and toilet knows that. I had no idea but God favors me. And now I know so much more. Angels and demons. Depravity and manipulation. I'm observing and God has been speaking over my whole live. Targets are not responsible for stalking

[nerdle-turdle]

LIST OF THINGS HES DONE/DOES THAT JUST

comforted me when he noticed I was having a panic attack (and actually noticed I was) (this was the exact moment when I was like "Oh yeah no I'm hopeless") ("You're going to do great" my heart)

He once randomly talked to me about an obscure space mission for five minutes without taking a breath.

Showed me his drawing in art club and told me all about it.

we used to make eye contact a lot in class, since he was right across from me, and one time he held it for six seconds longer than normal and I know that sounds dumb, but after the one...two...three...look away, he kept smiling at me.

Last day of school, he turned, smiled and waved at me before walking away.

Asked me how I liked art club before he decided to go.

everything ever

said he would definitely audition for the next show after coming to see the school musical

Randomly waved to me before we even began to be acquaintances at homecoming

Sends me stuff about an analog horror project he's working on

is super into space, specifically Saturn

Our history teacher mentioned something about homosexuals and we both turned to eachother like that Spiderman meme (we're both bi)

Asked for the long story when he saw my cast, and took out his other ear bud and yes that might not seem like much but he has them in all the time, i have never seen him take it out to talk with his friends, I genuinely thought they were hearing aids.

sent me a message that said "oki yay"

MOre but I should be sleeping rn

[r4dio-b0y]

#4, 16/04/2024

Hello. So you can listen to the radio silence...

I found her. And she found me. At the right time, in the right way. Not in the platonic sense, like we always were. In the romantic.

The kind of love I craved for so so long, until I stopped. Not just with that, you know? I stopped expecting things. I stopped expecting the good, the best, of people, and started seeing the worst. The bad, the wicked, the terrifying.

I was nine at the time.

And time passed, like it always does.

I started hoping for a diagnosis. I started hoping for someone to tell me what the hell was wrong with me. Because, let's be honest, there is something wrong.

For the longest time, I thought I was sick. Deeply, wrongly sick. I couldn't feel the same things other people did. I didn't cry at the sad films, at the museums with the war expositions. I didn't laugh at the funny jokes everyone was laughing at.

I started thinking that maybe I wasn't build to love.

And I started being ok with that. All of a sudden, in a subtle way, the realization came. That intense, soul-fullfiling love I craved since I was a little kid suddenly wasn't what I wanted anymore.

Nah. I wanted you, angel.

I've had this big homosexual fruity crush on you for the longest time. But I did not had the guts to tell you. After everything that happened in your life — not only relationship wise —, I knew you needed me as a different thing. You needed me as your boy. Your friend. The person who gives you life.

So I swallowed all of it, as I realized there was no one who could kiss away what I felt for you.

(By the way, let me just add a lil footnote here !! This line, right up here, is a reference to this one song that made me think of you the most. I'm actually going to learn it on guitar soon hahah. Anyways, it's called "Paul", by Big Thief, and I think you'll might want to check it out)

And then, that Friday — (pretty sure it was a Friday, if not, then it was a Thursday) — night happened.

I was awoken by my mom, at night. She said she wanted to talk to me, and, for some reason, I knew exactly what it was they found out about.

You.

My dad was home too. They both said they found a "strange message" at my phone, and that they were hoping I could explain it to them.

I broke.

I had a panic attack. And not like any other — if I ever did have any before that — panic attack. I almost threw up. I could barely breathe. My heart raced. I was shaking.

The moment I finished telling them I had an online "friend" — you're so much more than a friend, but shhhh, cuz I couldn't tell them that — they immediately told me you were a p3do. They told me that there were certain things about the sexuality of adults I did not understood.

Of course it was that load of cr4p, but I was scared. I was so scared, and here's the part that makes me the most ashamed: I wasn't even scared for you, as I should be.

So I lied, angel. I lied about so many things. I lied that you send me weird things, that I wasn't being myself when I talked to you, that I didn't like our horny jokes, everything.

Maybe that's why it took me so long to contact you. I was scared that, if you knew the truth, would you even want me back?

But I think you do. I might be wrong, but I think you do. I think you love me almost as much as I love you.

And I think you want to be my girlfriend, just like I want to be your boyfriend.

And, hear me out, it's like you said. We don't always get what we want. And I think I'm ok with that. We'll talk less from now on, considering I can't be online as much as I used to be. We can't call or make that movie date like we wanted to.

But we'll be together.

Lovely together.

oh crap, this got long. that's it. I got a sore throat. bye.

— silence.

@mysaturnsrings

[hikarry]

Do you believe in any religion?

You've said you've got religious trauma, but did that pull you away from all religions?

Eh, not really. Not in any organized religion, at least

I was stuck between Catholic Christianity and evangelical Christianity for all my childhood up until I was 19. My father forced me to complete all the Catholic rituals, and my grandparents took me to evangelical church up until I was 15, I believe. And, believe me, I was a very devoted Christian overall.

I was scared of God. I didn't listen to worldly music or read worldly books. I dressed modestly. I never swore. Homosexuality was disgusting and a sin. Every time I was left alone, I thought Jesus was coming, and everyone that was good was raptured, and I was left behind - I had many panic attacks on the account of that.

I think the spell broke when I actually started to sit down and read the Bible from beginning to end. Some stuff didn't match up or didn't make sense altogether, so I started writing notes. God, I wrote so many notes. Then I discovered other religions and how most religions are the same thing just in a different color and, yeah. Then I found out I was gay. Had a bit of an existential crisis. But the card castle finally fell

Currently, I don't believe in any God or supernatural entity that looks after and has power over us

I don't believe in any type of magic be it witchy or miracles or any other kind

Truth be told, I'm still figuring out what I believe in

It's not that I believe, but I trust that the universe has my back. I trust there's surface above the water. I trust that everything will work out in the end somehow

Could that be considered fate? I'm not completely sure. I don't believe that our life is written, but I do believe there are forces trying to keep us afloat. Energies

This might sounds silly but I believe in vibes a lot. Or call it gut feeling, whatever. I've learned to trust it and it ain't never failed me so far

I think the only concept religion wise that I believe is karma (is that hindu? Buddhism?) And only because I've seen it act with my two lil eyes

Apart from that? Eh. I study religions both for fun and professionally, so maybe that made me too detached to be able to blindly follow something that truth be told is not based on logic

The most illogical I allow myself to be is trusting in the universe

Fun fact: when I was 12 I was dead for 2 minutes whilst in surgery. I didn't have an outer body experience. Didn't see the light. Didn't feel peace. Didn't see heaven or hell. I didn't noticed I died at all! When I woke back up in my bedroom it was like nothing had happened at all and I had just woken up from the anesthesia. My father got so shocked it probably took him around 5 years to process his kid literally was dead for a while because he just told me about this when I was like 17. So, ya see, I consider that evidence that there's no such thing as an after life. We are just sacks of meat like any other animal and when we are gone, we are gone. Sure, might be a sad way to live: after all, what's the propose? And I honestly don't think there's one. We are a miracle of evolution. The universe itself probably doesn't know what to do with us freaks

Anyway, I still respect every religion. I don't have any problem with people believing in stuff, as long as they don't try to press me into submission under their chosen diety. Then I will be forced to be rude, which is never fun

But alas, yall believe in whatever you want. As long as we all chill, we good

[thekillersagent]

i said i'm a homosexual having a panic attack

[minibagelqueen]

My heart is shattered so I may as well go deeper. Share your angst fics that have awful similarities with S2!

This is an excerpt from mine, This isn't Flopperoo

"Yes. But if I'm wrong nothing happens."

"And nothing will ever happen if you had your way!" Crowley instantly regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth.

"And what is that supposed to mean?!" He bristled.

"That you're happy just… doing this forever." He gestured, "I want us to have a life together."

"We can't!" Aziraphale bit back. "How naive can you be? We're in an illegal relationship. We're abhorrent to society!" He pushed his plate away and threw his napkin to the table. "And we live in a tiny village, Crowley! How are we supposed to be together?!"

"Then we move! We could buy a place in London! You could open a shop? A book shop!" Crowley shouted back. They weren't abhorrent. It was society that was wrong. Not them.

"More of these preposterous ideas!" He didn't understand how painful it was to Crowley to be ridiculed for his plans. "Besides, I like it here! This is my home. And we'd only have the same problems in London." He barked back.

"We could find somewhere with two flats, connect them together?! I've known people who have done it." He flailed around for a solution. "People wouldn't know or even care if two men live together in London! It's London! Everyone has their heads up their own arses anyway."

"Like someone else I know." He said sarcastically: that little bit of a bastard coming out. He was feeling attacked just for being cautious, for liking the simple life. If Crowley thought that he was boring then all of this was a moot point anyway. He couldn't risk moving to live with someone who could grow tired of him. Would grow tired. After all, Crowley was sexy and experienced and clearly wanted excitement. He had so many other opportunities to explore. He could easily find himself someone more suited. And wouldn't it hurt more? If they tried and had a life together only for Crowley to take it away when he realised what a mistake he had made investing in Aziraphale?

Crowley snarled, "At least I'm trying to think of a future for us!" He didn't want to think about why Aziraphale was so resistant to them becoming more. Why did he always meet resistance when he wanted to commit? He wasn't expecting life changing things right now. He just needed a sign that he wasn't just the convenient homosexual in the village for him to experiment with. Because lately he had felt like Aziraphale had been pushing him away with one hand and pulling him in with the other. It was confusing. He just wanted to know where he stood. What this was. His own insecurities were playing on him. Aziraphale was so incredible. He was scared that he'd realise there was more to the homosexual world than just… him. He had had a sample of home during the Winter. He had never felt that before with a person. He wanted to feel it again so desperately. He wanted it with his Angel.

"Well it's simply foolish to dream." He said, something final and dismissive in his tone. Crowley just wasn't being realistic. He didn't want to change. He didn't crave more. He loved the library and he missed how easy life had been before. Oh no.

"Before? Before me?! Before us?" Crowley choked.

How could I have said that out loud?

"Aziraphale…?" Crowley asked, his voice breaking now. "Aziraphale… what did you mean? Do you… are you?" His entire world felt like it was crashing around him. "When you always say that it'll never work. Do you mean the plans? Or us?"

Aziraphale was silent in panic.