#warning very sad

[thegrimreaper-probably]

Sad story ahead!

Steve Harrington x dying reader.

Summary: The mall scene! Reader and Billy are half siblings bc Neil cheated on your mom with Billy’s mom. Steve and you are dating

Warning! Talks about seeing ghost and bunch of trauma. This does talk/ imply that you were suicidal! Talk is that in the song says suicide in your arms tonight. Implying that you didn’t care about dying. (Which neither do I but I don’t know if that suicidal)

Based of the song Arms Tonite by Mother Mother

“Y/N!” I yell as she block Billy from the Mind Flayer. I run over to her and ignore everything.

“Y/n?” I hold her body in mine as she’s covered in blood.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here.”

“Steve-.”

“Shh save your energy.” I take my shit off and try to stop the bleeding.

“Baby I’m not gonna make it. Please just keep Max safe.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I know Billy can but just help him.”

“Billy needs you. I need you!” She pushes the shirt off and I hold her back in my arms. I know she right but I don’t want too.

“I know but at- least I died in your arms.”

“No your not.”

“I love you.”

“Please- what about all the promises we made?” She kiss my cheek with the last of her strength.

“Please I need you.” She smiles sadly and her eyes get tired.

“Y/n I love you too.” She slowly falls limp in my arms as I hug her closer.

“Y/n?” Max asks as tears run down her face as she holds Billy’s body. She screams and Lucas holds her tight as both her step siblings were died.

Steve finally found out why you hated your dad. He was abusive to you and Billy. The dick had tried to sell your guys stuff. Steve bought it all and made sure Max had gotten whatever she wanted from you guy. At the funeral where your mother came to see you for the first time scene you moved here.

You never said your feelings on her but Steve thinks it would be anger now. Your mother was beautiful looked a lot like you which broke his heart even more. Yet she left you with Neil which if she maybe just hadn’t you’d be alive right now.

The worst of all was he still saw you. The funeral you and Billy had been sitting with Max as she cried. He saw you with Billy never alone. A constant reminder as to why he blamed himself.

Then it seemed everyone but him and Max moved on. Dustin was friends with Eddie Muson who now everyone thinks is a murder. Which at first he thought the same, but Vacna or whatever had been killing people. Which now he’s trying to get Max.

“Max please just listen to me.” I say as put batteries in the walker.

“Steve I don’t need you.” She grabs the walker and walks off.

“Max I need to do it for us.” I stand in front of her way.

“I can do it myself!” Max had problems with anger just like Billy. So did Steve but your problem was not caring about death. Not caring what happened to you as long as everyone else was happy. Some sad twisted joke life had on them.

“Max just let me-!” Suddenly I wasn’t in the house. I was at the mall with you.

“Y/n!” I run to her and hug her.

“I fell hard in your arms that night, it was nice. I died in your arms that night. I slipped through into the afterlife, It was nice. White light in your arms that night. I lost sight in your arms that night, It was nice.” She says and breaks the hug.

“Wasn’t so nice for me.” I say angry.

“Hey, you, don't you think it's kinda cute? That I died right inside your arms that night.” Y/n says.

“Y/n I know this isn’t you but I can’t live without you.”

“Really? Because I cried in the afterlife. I cried hard because I have died and you're alive! I tried to escaped the afterlife, I tried hard to get back inside your arms alive.” As she yelled she become bigger and more demonic.

“I don’t want to die with you upset at me. Please?”

“That I fell hard in your arms. I went and died in your arms that night. I fell in your arms tonight. Suicide in your arms.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That I'm fine even after I have died because it was in your arms I died.” Suddenly I’m back home. With everyone screaming as tears stream down my face.

“No- no- no.” I mumble over and over.

“Harrington no what?” Eddie asks.

“FUCK!” I throw a vase at a wall and everyone jumps back.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” I fall down the wall and hug myself and rock. I sob and sob till I feel a hand.

“It was nice.” I look up to see her and whimper.

“Stop it!” I yell at her.

“Steve? Who are you talking too?” Dustin asks.

“STOP TORTURING ME! STOP IT!” Max then hug him as I watch. Billy holding me with a sigh.

“I hate this.” I mumble out.

“I know.” He says.

“I can’t help him. I can’t hold him. I can’t kiss him.” I start to cry.

“Shh.” He says as he rubs back.

“Billy I can’t do this anymore.”

“Hey. Look at me.” I take my faces off his shoulder and look at him.

“We’re gonna make it through this, together. Just like we’ve always said. We’ll move to Cali when your ready. We can go ghost surfing or something. Steve and Max are going to be okay, it takes time.”

“Their just turning into us Billy. Steve doesn’t care about himself and Max has all this anger.”

“It takes time.”

“How much time Billy? Because we died because of it!”

“N/n I don’t know but just trust me on it.” He holds me as I sob with Steve.

“Steve I’m sorry.” Max says after hours of me sobbing and yelling.

“It’s my fault. If I didn’t tell her back then.”

“I think about it everyday but Y/n and Billy were so close. I don’t think she would live without him.” She says leaning into me.

“How do you do it?” I ask after a pause of silence.

“Do what?”

“Not cry everyday.”

“I like to think there in heaven surfing on a big beach. They’re probably just alone but are so happy. They can be free now. Free from Neil, free from this place, free from the monsters. But I know y/n sad, she misses us. She probably watches you and feels so bad. Bad that she caused this pain, bad that she couldn’t have been stronger, bad that she broke the person’s heart that healed her own. Though Billy’s with her, cheering her up. Telling her it takes time and he’ll be better soon.” She’s says as sits up.

“When we were at the funeral. I saw them, together. They had sat down with you, hugging you and I keep seeing them. I don’t know which ones are real or fake or even if I’m going crazy.”

“Do you see them now?” I look at Steve at the small sliver of hope.

“No.” I shred a tear and whimper as I fall into Billy’s arms.

It’s short but mm I kinda like it.

[sysig]

Blood sugar levels (Patreon)

[shopwitchvamp]

Thinking about a comment I got recently saying my clothes are "peak Gen Z bad taste" or something like that. And I'm so offended :[

Like, I'm 33. Born in 1990. This is peak Millennial bad taste! Obviously!!

[stopper-my-heart]

Nothing like Heartstopper S2E8 removing some of Taylor Swift's "seven" lyrics just so that the singing can specifically come back in at "Or hide in the closet" while Isaac is processing difficult emotions related to the book he's reading (i.e., Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen).

Did I mention "Or hide in the closet" hits just as the camera focus finishes shifting away from Isaac?

This is fine

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

"I fucking hate it here."

"Understandable," Michael agreed, the bitter, sullen disgust in his voice somehow greater than Gerry's. He gingerly approached a dresser that was in the middle of the hall, for some ungodly reason, and tugged on the stuck upper drawer until it opened. The documents inside were spotted with mould, and he was very glad he had brought a respirator and gloves. Paging through them revealed years of sales receipts, which could be of interest, if they weren't in such bad shape. Michael made a mental note of them and shut the drawer again. They weren't what he and Gerry had come to Pinhole Books for.

It had been a slow and gradual process to move Gerry into Michael's flat with him. Neither of them had ever come out and admitted that's what was happening‒ at first it was some of Gerry's clothes in Michael's closet, then it was his jewelry joining Michael's own on his dresser, then Gerry's art supplies started piling up on the rarely used kitchen table. Michael had treasured each and every addition, and made space for both Gerry and his things. They were all welcome.

This was the first deliberate venture they had made to Pinhole together, with the express intention of collecting more of Gerry's things and bringing them to Michael's‒ their flat. Two suitcases waited by the stairs, packed with shirts and trousers and other articles that hadn't made the journey already. Gerry was still in his old room, gathering more things, but the rest of the flat was stuffed to bursting with books, and there didn't appear to be much else of Gerry's worth taking.

That was making Michael's chest hurt, and not because of the mold and mildew. Pinhole was so obviously Mary's domain, her store, her home, and Gerry was like an afterthought. There was barely anything in the rest of the flat to show that there had been another inhabitant‒ no shoes by the door, no pictures on the refrigerator, no additional furniture for him to sit on. No touches of Gerry. 

In a way, that made things easier, as far as extracting Gerry from such an awful place. But it still made Michael feel utterly sick to his stomach.

He paused at what must have been Mary's office, struck by the large painting on the wall. What had once been a large and intricate eye was in tatters, shredded to pieces by what looked like large claw marks. The rest of the room was in disarray, as if whatever had caused the mess had left it for someone else to clean up. Michael didn't know if it was Gerry or Mary herself, but it clearly hadn't been touched.

"Mum's poltergeist phase." Gerry's flat voice came from behind him. Michael immediately turned and reached out, pulling his boyfriend into his arms. Gerry's face was blank and pale beneath his respirator, eyes dull and vacant, as if being in that place had sucked all the life from him. He gave no reaction to being in Michael's embrace, stiff and unmoving, even as Michael hugged him closer. "I thought…I thought she actually liked that painting, but then she…ripped it apart like nothing. And chucked books at my head. And…and…"

His words dried up, lost to the pages of books that filled the space around them like a tumor. Michael bumped his forehead against Gerry's, the only show of affection he could manage with the safety gear. "Do you have everything?" he asked, desperate to get Gerry out of the damned building. Gerry shook his head, brushing past him into the room, moving like a ghost lost to the past. He crouched, and the floorboards creaked and complained as he lifted one up, sneaking his hand beneath to pull something free.

When he returned to Michael's side he could see that it was a glass jar stuffed with papers, sealed against the dust and mildew, that Gerry cradled very gently against his chest. "It's the only place she wouldn't think to look for it," he explained, the hurt in his voice sneaking out past his face mask. Michael nodded, taking hold of Gerry's arms and guiding him out of the room and through the hall, past the towering piles of books that threatened to collapse on top of them. He didn't bother to ask again, just pulled Gerry along with him, collecting the suitcases on their way out. Out into the fresh air and sunshine, finally free of Pinhole Books.

Gerry stayed silent for the trip back to their flat, holding his jar with a blank look on his face. Once they were there and stripped of their work clothes, he drifted away towards their bedroom, and Michael opted to leave him in peace for a bit. He busied himself with the laundry, not wanting to risk contaminating their flat with whatever had been in Pinhole. When he finally emerged from the kitchen, smelling strongly of chemicals, he found Gerry sitting on the floor of their room, the glass jar empty and its contents laid out around him. Michael paused, unsure if he should intrude, but Gerry looked up at him with eyes wet with unshed tears, and he was helpless to resist.

"I saved everything that I could," Gerry explained as Michael sat down behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and setting his head on his shoulder. "It wasn't a lot, but for a while she left things as they were before. Didn't bother to throw them out." He scrubbed his arm over his eyes, his burned skin coming away wet. "When I was…twelve, I think, it was the first time I snapped back at her, and she…it was like a storm, she destroyed everything. There was nothing left." His fingers hovered over a ripped piece of paper, a scribbled outline of a flower in a rainbow of colors. "I felt so stupid, but I wanted to hang on to whatever I could. I know we were never a happy family, but maybe…we were a family. Once."

Michael reached over and picked up a photograph by his knee, creased with lines from being folded to fit in the jar. A lump formed in his throat as he looked at the baby held between Mary and Eric, plump and bald and smiling gummily at the camera. Mary looked like she was merely tolerating the experience, but Eric was positively beaming. "You look like him," Michael commented quietly.

"I think that's why Mary couldn't stand to have me around," Gerry noted, his voice thick with emotion, passing Michael another picture. He was a toddler in that picture, standing next to a crouching Eric at some sort of park, both of them wearing large sunglasses and smiling exactly alike. "I used to hear him through the walls sometimes, when Mary summoned him after I'd gone to bed. I thought I was just dreaming, and when I learned…" the tears in Gerry's eyes finally spilled over as his breath stuttered painfully. "She stopped summoning him. And I never got a chance to…know him."

Michael gently set the pictures aside and pulled Gerry back against his chest, pressing his forehead against his temple. "I'm sorry," he whispered, because that was the only thing he could say, because there were no other words to say that could ease Gerry's grief. "I'm so sorry." He was mourning too, for a man he'd never met, but who's absence had affected Gerry all his life. "He would have loved you so much."

Gerry nodded against his collarbone. Whatever he tried to say was broken by a choked sob, so instead his hand scrambled for a roll of papers amidst all the others. They were tightly coiled around an object, and as Gerry struggled with them, a thick metal pen slipped out and onto the rug. Michael picked it up and passed it to Gerry, who held it close and watched as Michael unfurled the papers. 

He barely made it past the first line before he was crying too. It was a letter from father to son, a pre-mortem that Eric probably didn't know would be one of the few things he left to his child. Michael couldn't even bear to finish it, putting it aside before his tears ruined the paper. Judging from the places on the letter where the ink was smudged and blotchy, that had happened before.

Gerry was running his fingers over the pen, his own tears falling unheeded as he stared down at it. It was obviously a custom piece, something intended to be passed down, and now it was safely in Gerry's hands where it belonged. Michael tugged him close again, burying his face in Gerry's hair. Now he knew for certain that his boyfriend had inherited his mother's hair color. No wonder he hated it so much.

"He was an artist, too," Gerry choked out, pulling a few pages loose from the tight coil. It was lettering, looping and beautifully crisp, made by the pen now in Gerry's hand. His son's preferred name seemed to be Eric's favorite to practice. "I found these in her office and hid them. When she asked what happened to them I lied and said I didn't know, but I don't think she believed me. I wasn't as good at lying to her then."

There was more unsaid about what Mary's reaction to that was. There was no way for him to soothe that pain, but Michael ran his hands over Gerry's chest, gentle passes up and down, with as much love as he could. A kind touch for every one of pain. "That's all over now," Michael managed to say, sniffing inelegantly and shifting so Gerry's hair came unstuck from his wet face. "You, you don't have to ever go back there again. If you forgot anything I'll go get it for you, but you don't ever have to go back there. You're home now."

Gerry shook in his arms, like Michael's words were a physical thing that had settled over him. "Say that again," he asked, turning and wrapping his arms around Michael, desperately tight, tucking his face into the hollow of Michael's neck. "Please say that again."

"You're home," Michael repeated, rocking them from side to side, hands in constant motion across Gerry's body, familiar and loving. "You're here with me now, you don't have to go back. This is where you should always be." Gerry's sobs sounded like they hurt, but he was clinging back, held safe in Michael's arms, where he belonged. "You're home, my love. You and everything that matters to you, we're all here now. We're not going anywhere."

Those words were as true as he could make them. He didn't know all that the future would hold, but Michael knew that he wanted Gerry in it with him, for him to love and care for and show how good life could be. And he could feel the full weight of Gerry's love for him, the way he clung back to him, seeking comfort from him. Gerry trusted him with his pain and his grief, freely sharing it with Michael after a lifetime of holding it in. That mattered to him more than anything in the world.

Over Gerry's head, Michael examined the pieces of Gerry's childhood, carefully salvaged and hidden for so long. No more, he decided. Those treasured childhood photos could join the ones on their refrigerator‒ the strips from all the photobooths Michael had pulled Gerry into, and the stupid selfies he'd printed off because they made him laugh. Eric's calligraphy would be preserved in a frame, where Gerry could see it whenever he wished. And Michael could take that empty glass jar and fill it with the memories of them together‒ ribbons and snapped shoelaces and love notes and candy wrappers and a million pieces of them. To show to Gerry and anyone else who looked at it that their lives were full of love, and neither of them needed to hide it away anymore.

[starbiology]

they were like sisters to meee

[rinn-e]

I made a new animatic! (Big spoilers for the Black Water Arc of Heaven Official's Blessing!) ✨️

(Song: I Know Those Eyes/This Man Is Dead from The Count Of Monte Cristo)

[ntj2pj]

[doodles-in-sand]

i realised i never did post anything for triage 1 mil....well, heres thumbnail redraw!

[imeriayapping]

Please post the transparent Logan fic! Logan sad fics just hit different

Somehow he didn't even see when it started, which was ironic. It's just that bit by bit he was becoming transparent.

At first logan didn't do anything bc he thought that it was tricks of his mind, then because it didn't affect him physically and in the end because he figured out why it did happen so he just let it spread.

Now that he thinks back then first time he saw his feets looking funny was right after oscar accidentally left him on read. He apologised after saying that he was sleepy and forgot but it still had the effect.

Right now Logan is transparent all the way up to his chest, broken light going through him, thankfully in places that still can be covered by clothes.

It never was something big, just someone from the grid excluding him from conversation or alex ignoring his rambling. Sometimes if something truly big happens like everyone interacting with him on miami gp or oscar posting a story together nothingness goes back a bit. Logan determined that different people caused different amounts of his skin to disappear or come back.

By far most effect had oscar, alex and George.

Unluckily for logan two of those guys were on different teams and always busy so effect was even more (in) visible in his case.

Last bit happened in the car no matter how strangely it sounds. Maybe it happened because it was his race engineer, someone who should be solely focused on logan and still he maneged to forget to warn him about things that happened ahead on the road.

Whole thing makes him dnf in the end after collision with, by looks of it, Riccardo. When he gets out of the car he somehow already knows that there is nothing under the helmet for people to see, nothing for him to see too.

When he changes from the race suit in his room new clothes cannot be seen either, like any trace of him is gone. Logan can hear his own voice but pretty sure noone outside can.

He just asepted whole thing without second thought, it wasn't that much different from how he felt most of the times too. Now he won't be able to reach out first to create some illusion of people being interested in him but maybe it's also for the best.

After some time curiosity gets better of Logan and he checks something that he couldn't stop thinking about from the start of whole affair.

At least his blood is still red and visible when it hits the sink.

[taigastyle]

clean(er)

I don't understand what destiny's planned I'm starting to grasp what is in my own hands I don't claim to know where my holiness goes I just know that I like what is starting to show (Sometimes)

[sysig]

Wuh oh (Patreon)

Bonus:

The novel experience of being crushed by a giant rock, a visual metaphor

[saint-ambrosef]

i dont know what to feel about today

[k1ttnz]

In honor of homeward bound almost finishing (which btw im definitely gonna cry when that happens) i decided to draw as much fanart as i could for it while i listen to it in text to speech. For @thompsborn thank you so much for writing this amazing masterpiece ily like actually

based on this excerpt

also i now realize that maybe college people dont wear backpacks or maybe they do idk hopefully they do because its too late to change the pose 😥 okay im gonna yap in the tags cause its gonna be too long of a post

[thought-42]

Writing an outsiders pov (Ezra's) of Thrawn's history is hilariouss because without the context we get as the reader it's like: "I committed a number of war crimes so I was exiled to a planet with no spacefairing capability or technology. But don't worry it was actually a secret mission to go investigate the authoritarian Empire that just rose up literally over night with no explicable explanation from the midst of a civil war in Lesser Space to see if they will come help us against an alien invasion force that I can barely proove exists." and the only rational response is 'you were definitely supposed to die of exposure within three months of being dropped off on that planet bud'

[whereismyhat5678]

My statement was wrong.

I have time.

And I have time to waste time- 😀

I drew some very BLOODY doodles, so I will ask anyone who doesn’t like so much BLOOD not to look. They are messy, sloppy, and frankly I did them very quickly, so the quality might be a bit sucky but I did what I could-

(Also Fake Peppino is so much fun to work with- I LOVE making him into like a horror beast-)

And something completely non-related to these here- 👇

(I know that’s random but I haven’t posted this even though I made it weeks ago so I guess you can have it now-)