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onyxhellebore · 1 year

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I'm about to start making my own moisturizer based loosely on a Victorian recipe that Bernadette Banner made, minus the rose and plus thyme and mint essential oils to help with my acne. I'm having a horrible flare-up bc I used a product with an ingredient my skin can't have, thinking I was magically cured. Everything I do skincare wise either leaves my skin too dry (what I've been dealing with normally) contains allergens, or moisturizes but also feeds the Malassezia in my skin. But NO MORE I have researched the ingredients, made my substitutions, and I'm gonna be making Healing Potions.

#avery speaketh #i literally have like. a beard of itchy painful acne right now bc i used one moisturizer for 3 days 3 weeks ago #got acne dots #they worked for a bit and then made it worse #i can get it back down with tea tree oil if i'm patient but i don't want dry skin that only gets vitamin c serum and a little hyaluronic #bc that is nto enough my face is always uncomfortable in some way shape or form #also don't worry i'm not putting borax on my skin #or acetone. idk why she does this shit. like yes. content and experimental archaeology. but i would not be fucking around and finding out #the problem with tea tree oil is i have to hide from the cats after i apply until morning #nothing in this world is easy

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gavisimmaculaterizz · 1 month

Note

It was evening and y/n was in the bath doing skincare routine, but then she started crying because she started getting acne. She didn’t want to show it to Hector, but he did find out and he started supporting her and explaining that she was the most beautiful girl

Sorry for my English, is not my native language 🤪🤪

— beautiful girl / hector fort.

summary: you’re having troubles with your skin, but hector tells you he loves you no matter what.

warnings: mentions of breaking out (acne), some negative thoughts

masterlist

university has been eating at you, not being able to care for yourself properly. school work on top of school work, test on top of test, you never got enough rest. you always hated yourself for not being able to care for yourself when uni got that bad.

you were such an organized person, always doing your skincare, and as of now, even the smallest parts of your daily routine were far gone.

to say the least, you were a mess.

your boyfriend héctor always offered to do your skincare, being fond of your perfectionist routine. but you always denied, telling him that it wasn’t his problem, and that he shouldn’t have to worry.

————————————————————————

as you finally had a day of rest, you decided to take matters into your own hands, and finally fix yourself up. you did your nails, had your everything shower, and put on nice pajamas.

the evening was nice and calm in barcelona , and that set you in a better mood to continue in with your routine.

but as you started on your skincare, you noticed red dots on your skin. as you got closer and closer to your bathroom mirror, there it was. something you never expected..

acne..

it never occurred to you to check in the mirror before you went to uni, because of how busy you were, but now looking at yourself, you were deeply regretting not checking once in the mirror.

you rarely had problems with acne, your skincare routine always provided a good protection against acne. but since you haven’t been able to take care of yourself, there you were, having to deal with problems on your skin.

it could’ve been hormonal changes you were going through, but you couldn’t find why you broke out. but there you were..

you couldn’t help but start to tear up, thoughts racing through your head.

“how come i never noticed?”, you whispered to yourself. tears began streaming down your face, not being able to control your emotions anymore.

as your emotions began to take over, your mind went wandering..

‘why does my boyfriend even like me?’ ‘am i even good enough for him?’ ‘why did i not take care of myself properly?’

as you were so in your head, you never noticed the bathroom door opening.

héctor had just came back from an outing with his teammates. when he came back home, he heard soft sobs heard from your shared room, and he decided to investigate.

when he opened the door to your shared bathroom, he noticed you crying. confused as he was, he decided to walk quietly to you, trying to figure out why you were crying.

he noticed you rubbing at your skin, saying something he couldn’t comprehend, but that’s when it hit him.

you were crying because you broke out.

he felt sad that you weren’t able to properly take care of yourself, and deep down he knew you were blaming yourself for having university overload you with stress.

he quietly hugged you, which quickly got you out of your thoughts.

while there were no words exchanged, the only thing heard were quiet sobs from you.

as minutes passed by, you spoke up.

“dime la verdad héctor, me quieres así de fea?”, you said, clearly emotional. (tell me the truth hector, you love me this ugly)

“como crees que no te amo!! i love you the way you are baby.. why do you think that?”, hector said, voice lingering with sadness and confusion. (why do you think that i don’t love you)

“don’t you see my skin amor! how do you love someone like me, who’s skin looks terrible..?”, you said quietly, voice cracking at the end.

“i love you with or without acne amor,” hector started.

“you need to understand that this happens to people. you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever laid my eyes upon! te quiero sin o con maquillaje, sin o con problemas de piel.” héctor said softly. (i love you with or without makeup, with or without skin problems)

his words calmed you down. you thought you weren’t enough for him. he was a gorgeous man, with great skin, not a single problem with his skin.

you felt insecure with those pimples, although it would be gone, you still felt a bit insecure.

he noticed your face and decided to reassure more..

“you know amor, you’re the most beautiful girl ever.. i love you no matter what.”, your boyfriend said.

he ended it with a kiss.. problems soon faded away.

you were his beautiful girl and he loved you no matter what.

a/n: first héctor fic! ngl i didn’t know how to even start it so if it seems weird pls forgive me! also mind my shitty writing for dear life.. please send requests if you have some🤍

#hector fort fluff #hector fort #football #hector fort x reader #hector fort x you #fluff #fort x you #pablo gavi #jude bellingham

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zzzzombieboy · 5 months

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Leon Kennedy Headcannons

pt 2

— parents immigrated from italy when he was either 3-4 so he doesn’t know italian but he knows that he wasn’t born in the states

— played baseball when he was a kid and baseball ONLY (hates football so much idc he hates it) and could throw like 78 mph

— spent his later teen years at an orphanage because his relatives still lived in italy, and a lot of the younger boys there at the orphanage thought of him like an older brother and he wanted to protect them a lot or whatever

— likes it when people call him nicknames but not anything affectionate , only shortened or adapted versions of his name like “lee” or just calling him kennedy

— owns a tape of marylin monroe singing to jfk that he only plays his birthdays because he doesn’t have anyone to sing to him (he connects the whole kennedy last name dots in his head)

— got really into ghost adventures when it was airing for the first few years and wanted to look like zach baggins (or chris angel)

— i also think he was a gymnast for just a LITTLE bit because of how many fucking backflips he does , or alternatively he really wanted to be a gymnast but he couldn’t because his parents told him it was a girls sport

— does not like almonds

— used to eat his toast borderline soggy because of how light the heat he puts on it and then covers it in butter

— LOVED the alien movies when he was a teenager and used to sneak out past curfew to rewatch it in theaters (he also befriended a worker at the theater so he could steal one of the promotional posters)

— grinds his teeth

— has a lot of acne scars on his back and a little bit on his chest but they’re not as visible

— never clipped his nails a day in his life he nibbles on those things like a full corse meal and then spits it out like dip

— likes butterfly knives a lot and has a little collection , probably can do really cool tricks but sometimes he messes up and gashes his finger open

— crime shows r his guilty pleasure he LOVES those corny shows talking abt “unsubs” and “holy shit this guy is good.. pure psycho” eats it up eats it up yummy

— played a brass instrument (trumpet or trombone haven’t decided) in middle school but he hated how it sounded when he messed up so he quit

— gets mad when he goes to restaurants and overhears people saying the name of the dish wrong

ok that’s it bye

#fanfic #leon kennedy #resident evil #asks #fanfiction #male reader #x male reader #resident evil characters #resident evil headcanons #re headcanons #resident evil leon #leon #leon ass kennedy #leon s kennedy headcanons #leon headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons

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aces-parrows · 3 months

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café conversations | taeyong

pairing: taeyong x male!reader word count: 1.4k genre: fluff, slight angst, imagine warning(s): not proofread, mentions of enlistment summary: you're in a secret relationship with taeyong, meeting up at your guys' spot to catch up.

the warmth of your fresh coffee warmed your hands that had become frozen from the cold weather, gradually thawing them as you took this moment to embrace the aroma and the soothing heat. it was about nine in the morning, a few minutes past when your boyfriend promised to meet you here. as you glanced around the bustling cafe, anticipation and a hint of concern filled the air, your mind wandering into different scenarios it could think up as to why he was late. normally, his "late" was right on the dot for the time he gave, but today was different. you understood the idol life kept him busy, however, you were aware this was supposed to be a day off for him. what could be keeping him?

you glanced out the window, hopeful to catch a glimpse of him through the glass, now blurred by the frost that coated it. perhaps there was traffic due to the weather? the roads did appear quite icy when you left your apartment earlier. even the sidewalk was coated in ice that you were slipping on as you walked over here.

taeyong appeared at the entrance of the cafe breathless, looking around for you with those sweet boba eyes. they seemed to sparkle upon seeing you as he skipped over to where you were seated, his smile almost visible through the mask he wore. he didn't have on makeup today, which you noticed despite most of his face being hidden. the acne on his left cheek and his pores just added to his attractiveness; knowing that he wasn't "perfect" just made his genuine charm even more appealing. not just to you, but to his fans as well.

"i'm so sorry i'm late, lovebug." taeyong's said in the sweetest tone, visibly remorseful for keeping you waiting.

lovebug. that pet name that always made you smile and blush like it was the first time he's ever called you that.

when he first bestowed the endearing nickname upon you, it during a chance encounter at the bar. you two were engaged in casual conversation between sips of your beers, when you were abruptly whisked away to spend time with a friend and his girlfriend. admittedly, you found taeyong irresistible even though you barely knew him. his purple hair made him stand out, the way it framed his captivating, boba-like eyes. god, those eyes were as big as his heart. you couldn't help but continue to steal glances at him throughout the evening, watching as he laughed among his group of friends, which you soon found out to be members of his group, nct 127.

it was later in the evening when you were about to head out, your friend and his girlfriend having left half an hour earlier. you didn't know what kept you there, but you felt as though you needed to stay and wait for something. perhaps, this was the universe's subtle way of bringing you and taeyong together.

in the bar's bathroom, as you were about to exit, taeyong entered. the smile that quickly spread across his face, lighting sparkles in those boba eyes and filling the air with a sense of love you never felt before. it was there in that bathroom, where he explained his situation as an idol, the industry, the fans, all of it. you listened, curiosity piqued. this was vital information, provided to you before he asked you out to dinner.

the invitation took you aback. in the bar bathroom? here is where she asked? looking back, it was hard to be offended when you got to witness first hand how crazy the fans can be, especially with their idols being in love or in a relationship. you accepted regardless, wanting to see this sweet man again, even if it was only once more before he disappeared from your life permanently. the excitement boiled over in him as he called you "lovebug" for the first time when he expressed his excitement to see you again.

ever since that night, that was his special nickname for you. it melted your heart every single time, bringing a warmth even the freezing cold outside couldn't extinguish.

"it's alright," you said reassuringly, "i was getting worried, but i'm glad you're here."

"i had someone following me." he admitted, stress evident as he hesitantly glanced over at the entrance. "i needed to lose them before i could come."

that was the one thing you hated about his job. the fans. no, not all of them. the crazy ones. the ones that could ruin his career if they even so much as suspected he was in love with someone, let alone a man. the conservative nature of south korea did make it harder to be openly gay, but when you're in the spotlight, it's even harder. you know the international fans would love him regardless, it's the ones here in korea that terrified you. you sometimes had nightmares of how they might treat you if they found out you exist. what would they do if they felt you were taking away "their man?"

the secrecy of your relationship gave you comfort in knowing they wouldn't know about you. regardless, you never left to meet up with taeyong without a mask and other ways of obstructing your appearance to make it more difficult for them to find you.

you were snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed taeyong's beanie, a hint of a new hair color peeking out the back, prompting a soft giggle to escape your lips.

"what's the new hair color this time?" you ask, internally crying for your poor boyfriend's hair and scalp.

"brown." he said happily.

"no more silver and black?" you ask with a soft pout, that combination being your favorite after the pink and blue.

"no, sadly not." taeyong chuckled, "you did always like natural colors on me the most, though.

"i know, but you pulled off those colors so well! i couldn't get enough of it!"

the amount of times taeyong changed his hair was crazy. every time you saw him, it seemed he got his hair colored to something new. admittedly, you considered making a bingo card at some point to see how many colors this man could have dyed his hair in just a few months. you felt bad at the idea when you found out it was damaging both his hair and scalp to a point he dreaded getting a new hair color. you wanted nothing more than to have some sort of magical healing abilities, able to kiss away all the problems his company caused hm physically.

"how have you been?" he asked

"the usual." you admitted, "work has been kicking my ass."

"the same here." taeyong said through a laugh, "but i love it. i love seeing everyone so happy and enjoying our newest songs. especially since i.. you know."

that damn e word. enlistment. you knew it was coming and that it would make your already secretive relationship even harder to maintain. why couldn't he have enlisted earlier or not have to enlist at all? despite the freshness of your relationship, it felt as though you two had known each other for years. the mere thought of him going away for a couple of years tore your heart into pieces. how could you live without him? true, he could visit you on his days off, but how often would that be? how frequently could he communicate with you? your biggest fear was that you two would discover a freedom he doesn't get with being an idol, allowing your guys' relationship to bloom more; only for it to be ripped away once he's discharged.

"hey." taeyong said gently, knowing you were getting lost in those thoughts again, "i understand it's tough to think about, but we'll make it work. we'll make the most of our time together and i'll contact you as often as i can."

you looked into his eyes, finding reassurance in the words he spoke. his unwavering support made the impending separation a little more bearable. with a tender smile, he reminded you of the wonders of modern day technology, how even if he can't communicate for some time, your guys' memories will always be at the tips of your fingers whenever you wanted.

"our love can withstand the distance." he reassured once more.

you then realized in that moment, that no matter the difficulties,the strength of your bond would be a guiding force through the trials of his enlistment. and the limitations of the idol life.

taeyong, realizing he had to go, apologized for having to cut the date short. you understood, sensing he had a good reason. he planted a quick yet tender kiss on your cheek before he said his goodbyes, making you promise to text him the second you stepped foot into your apartment.

"i love you, lovebug. take care, i'll call you tonight."

#taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong imagine #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct imagine #nct imagines #kpop imagines #male!reader #taeyong x male reader #male y/n #male reader #sfw interactions only #i needed to write so i hope i didn't break any hearts tonight

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haemocyaninz · 8 months

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Ive wanted to design a spidersona since the first movie and I finally got a design down for myself ^_^

[Image ID: 2 digital drawings of haemocyaninz’s spidersona. He is drawn with light brown skin, a medium build, and black locs that look like they halfway float off his head.

Image 1: The left half is the full spider suit with a purple jacket on, unzipped, over it and the right side is them without the jacket on. The body of the costume is black with teal webbing on the torso and a purple spider in the center. It also has teal and purple accents on the shoulders, forearms, and thighs and it goes into black boots with purple chunky soles. The mask has their hair out at the top, 3 partially closed purple eyes on the right side, a regular purple eye on the left side with 4 tiny purple dots around it, and the mask has a teal section that covers over the mouth and separates the mask in half while it splits at the top into spider webs. The purple jacket has a darker hood and sleeves and an up arrow embroidered on the left chest area.

Image 2: The left section of the image is the same as the left section of the previous image. The right section is 2 of haemocyaninz’s face at the top and bottom, with the bottom section just showing them without glasses. His face is labeled as follows: “Basically me lol”, “Semi-symmetrical hair”, “Locs that defy gravity. Move around all floaty like too”, “Purple tint glasses”, “Acne + Scars”. He has dark circles under his eyes and has a nose ring and snake bite piercings. End ID.]

#described #spiderverse #spidersona #i font have a name. i also didnt really base this off any spiders bc i have arachnophobia lol

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varibean · 9 months

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varian plays connect-the-dots with hugo's freckles

hugo plays connect-the-dots with varian's acne scars kjsdhfj

WIFJWFIJ listen acne scar varian is real to me, he's covered in grease and chemicals and his skin care routine involves Showering and sometimes remembering to rub water on his face

they're cute tho, hugo makes them feel cute and nice, he's got lil constellations on him bc hugo connects them with his freckles

#varian #varigo #vat7k #everything they do is precious to me

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algea · 1 year

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Oh Honey.

Summary: Schlatt becomes friends with Ophelia, and they really hit it off. Pt.1 | Pt. 2

Warnings: swearing, implied romantic tension, schlatt purely being himself.

fem!original character, original character is over 18

Schlatt had known Ophelia since he dropped out of college. On that faithful day, he ran into her at a coffee shop, spilling the coffee he had in his hand on her beautiful white blouse.

“Shit—! I’m so sorry!” Schlatt exclaimed, bending down to help her up.

“It’s ok…Let my buy you another coffee.” Ophelia sighed, wiping the excess coffee off of her. Once she tilted her head up to look at him, Schlatt finally got to see her face, her beauty overwhelming him.

“No no, please don’t think you have to do that!” Schlatt exclaimed, helping her up. The way her hands fit in his was perfection, and not just Schlatt could feel it. Once standing up, Schlatt only then realized her immense beauty. The way her white ringlets fell perfectly around her face, framing it beautifully, or how her striking her dark, stormy blue eyes were. Ophelia's skin was like a porcelain dolls, no marks of acne. Freckles occasionally dotted her face, appearing here and there, but not enough to say she was freckled. Her voice was like a breath of spring, like music to his ears. She wasn’t extremely slim, just in between, like the perfect cookie.

"No please, I wasn't looking where I was going, it was totally my fault." Ophelia insisted.

"I refuse to let you do that." Schlatt rejected. Ophelia sighed once more and looked up at him. His caramel eyes gazed down at her, the ones she fell in love with as soon as she pierced them with hers.

To her, Schlatt was perfect. The way his slightly lopsided smile shone down on her, the way his perfect white teeth dazzled her in the light. His muttonchops were unique, and suited him perfectly, and his chestnut hair complimented his caramel eyes.

“How about this, I’ll buy you a drink, and you’ll buy me a drink, does that sound like a fair deal?” Ophelia suggested. Schlatt stood and pondered for a moment.

“That sounds like a deal.” Schlatt agreed, reaching out his hand to let her shake. She took his hand and shook it, and they once again felt the spark. Schlatt intended to buy her drink first and whisper to the cashier to keep the other drink on his tab. They both discussed what drink they would like, then went to the cashier to order.

“Could I have a medium coffee, one sugar, no cream…and also,” schlatt started, “keep the drinks on my tab.” He whispered to the cashier. The cashier smiled and nodded, as if knowing what Schlatt was doing.

“Ah, could I get a large chai tea latte with whole milk? Oh could you also add two cookies? My treat.” Ophelia smiled. Schlatt couldn’t help but let his cheeks dust with color, her smile was so radiant. “That will be $14.35 please.” The cashier chirped. Ophelia reached for her pocketbook, but Schlatt was quicker than she was, already swiping his card.

“Hey—!” Ophelia exclaimed, looked at Schlatt with wide eyes. Schlatt only smiled, hoping to make her less angry. Ophelia sighed in defeat, placing a hand on his shoulder. She smiled kindly up at him, silently thanking him.

“I never got your name.” Schlatt said.

“Oh!! I’m Ophelia, it’s nice to meet you…” Ophelia started.

“Schlatt. My friends call me Schlatt.” Schlatt whispered.

“It’s nice to meet you Schlatt!!!” Ophelia exclaimed, closing her eyes and giving him a smile. Schlatt wanted to pass out then and there, but he refrained from it by focusing on the order the barista had just called.

“I’ll get it.” Schlatt muttered, walking over and picking up the drinks and cookies. Schlatt handed Ophelia’s tea to her, as well as a snowman shaped cookie.

“Hey Schlatt, could I get your number? I feel like I need to owe you back something.” Ophelia asked, handing her phone to him.

“Y-Yeah, of course!” Schlatt stuttered, shakily typing his number into her phone.

“Thank you! Maybe we could get dinner sometime.” Ophelia suggested, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. Schlatts eyes widened, and he felt his heart leap out of his chest.

“Yeah, of course!” He smiled. They both sat down at a table, and chatted the afternoon away.

As Schlatt watched her walk away, waving to her, he knew he was already excited for that date.

#schlatt x reader #jschatt #jschlatt x reader #chuckle sandwich x reader #chuckle sandwich #mcyt #minecraft #mcyt x reader #original character

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devondespresso · 26 days

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Since We're Alive Now

T | 5843 words | also on ao3 (soon) | cw: referenced/implied self-image issues, swearing, brief references to physical injury, strong self criticism, and canon typical tone in some areas but with happy ending

April Fools from the @strangerthingswritersguild !! This fic is for @medusapelagia sorry its a littttttle late, I hope the extra 2k to the word count makes up for it dgaskdgkjhdkla

I picked the prompt "platonic hellcheer: fixing their hair", hopefully its the one you gave me or if not, i hope you at least enjoy this instead! 💕

Chrissy walked towards the hospital doors with her pink pocketbook in one hand and the black guitar case in the other. A man on his way out noticed her and held the door, and she hurried to catch up with a polite thanks. He nodded, distracted, looking once at the state of her appearance, twice at the guitar case with her. She ducked into the lobby and pretended not to notice.

Chrissy sped up to the reception desk and asked the lady there for a visitor’s pass, smiling like she wasn’t bothered by the stress acne dotting her forehead and cheeks and chin, like she didn’t know her hair looked terrible, unwashed and unbrushed. Severely unkept, without a good mirror to glance at before entering a room full of strangers that’d easily recognise her from photos on the news.

The woman looked at Chrissy, with an extra loaded glance to the guitar case, then looked down at her computer.

Chrissy moved her pocketbook over to also be held by the guitar case hand, then brought up her freed hand to check her watch.

“I’m very sorry, but visiting hours are closed for Mr. Munson. You can try again tomorrow, sweetie.”

Chrissy looked up at the lady sitting and looking back at her with a sugary sweet authority.

Chrissy checked her watch, and, yeah, she got the time right.

“Tomorrow, Miss Cunningham.” she smiled.

She checked the watch one more time, just to be sure she was right.

“What time tomorrow?”

“The visiting hours listed on the board for non-family members of special patents, now, Miss Cunningham, I’m very sorry, but there is a line.”

Chrissy looked across the room at the bulletin board, then back towards the two people behind her. She apologized to the people behind her, and slipped out of line towards the board.

She set the case gently on the chairs lined up along the wall, keeping it close and still on the chairs in front of her, and searched the board for the hours.

Special patients… special patients… none of them said “special”. There were no new lists either, but there was a new-ish note, just to the side of the regular described hours.

‘During these uncertain times, staff reserve the right to limit visitation for the protection of patients or their visitors. We thank you for your understanding.’

Chrissy stared at the note, reading it again to be sure.

‘uncertain times… limit visitation… protection of patients or their visitors.’

A bunch of freaking bull.

Chrissy huffed and leaned away from the bulletin board, glaring at the desk for a second before looking back at the guitar case on the seats.

She picked it back up gently, not wanting it hitting against anything despite the outside being scuffed to hell and back already, and looked back around the room for another way.

She wandered closer to the other end of the reception desk, and on the back wall, among photos and other nurses celebrating long careers at the hospital, was a name Chrissy recognized.

Margret Briggs, and very likely Robin's infamous “second favorite person on the planet”: Miss Maggie.

Chrissy went up to a different receptionist and politely got her attention.

“Excuse me, sorry, is Miss Maggie working today? I'm friends with Robin Buckley, she mentioned–”

“Oh, you just missed her– give me one second, sugar.” The receptionist got up and went straight to a door behind the counter, opening it to lean inside and yell, “Hey, Maggie! One of your demon children is in here!”

Chrissy startled a laugh, and the receptionist shared a playful smile. Miss Maggie came out the door a few seconds later.

“Friend of Buckley,” The receptionist hummed with a playful jab, “This one's all your's Maggie.”

“I think you mean ‘thank you Maggie’.” Miss Maggie said, then waved Chrissy over to the very end of the reception desk, meeting at the little employee doors attached to the counter.

“Hey, doll. Christine, right?” hummed, seemingly unfazed that they'd never met before.

“Chrissy, yeah, I– um… Has something happened to Eddie Munson? He’s not getting worse or anything, right?”

“Not that I know of– I’m not in charge of any of his charts but…” She threw a loaded glance at the far side of the reception desk, then back to Chrissy. “But I’ll check for you real quick.”

She dipped back behind the counter and to one of the unattended computers.

“Thank you,” she sighed, “He mentioned they were still keeping him for a while. For observation or something, but I figured that meant he'd still be, I don't know, relatively stable?”

“Every now and then we get patients the state wants to oversee, they don’t give us much good reason but it doesn’t hurt anything… The paperwork is a pain in the ass, but that’s nothing to do with the patient–” she paused, caught reading something on the screen. “Munson’s fine. I've got a note about some kind of incident with a visitor, though.”

She read it again with careful confusion, then stood up, “Looks like nothing serious, friends’ spat, but there's no way they mistake you for him.” She looked up from the computer and over again at the reception desk. “Did you come find me first, doll?”

“Um, no, I tried the front, and she said visiting hours were closed. Normally I never had any trouble…”

Miss Maggie’s face soured for a second, then she shrugged. “Well, at least that's an easy fix, then.”

She leaned over to grab a blank visitor's pass and began writing, asking Chrissy a couple questions to fill it out. She finished with a loopy signature and handed the pass to her. Chrissy moved her pocketbook over to the same hand as the guitar again, and took the pass.

“Thank you so much, I…”

“Not a problem, doll, you always come ask for me if you need something. It's a lot easier to help you kids when you aren't making a scene.” she laughed.

Chrissy smiled and thanked her again, waving to her and the receptionist before heading down Eddie's hall.

Chrissy reached the room and knocked on the door.

“No vacancy.” Eddie’s muffled voice said from the other side, and Chrissy huffed before opening and leaning in through the door.

“You sure there isn’t room for one more?”

“Heeeey, Chris!” he yelled, stretching out the word and throwing in the nickname like they’d known each other for way longer than a month or so. “Hey, you’re hair’s down, looks great.”

“Yeah, didn’t feel like doing it today.” She said at a more reasonable volume, but she still couldn’t help the huge smile tugging at her cheeks. She ducked into the room and closed the door behind her, only to turn back and find Eddie now sitting up properly with a deathgrip on the bed rails.

“Chrissy.” Eddie said, staring at the case before looking up at her face. “Did you go back?”

“You wanted your guitar, right?” she said, walking over to the other side of the room to put it away.

“Yeah, I asked Nancy to grab it, next time she was in the area, specifically because she wouldn’t have something making that a completely miserable visit.”

Chrissy set it down, holding back an eye-roll and sealing her mouth shut.

“I also told her it could wait if something came up–”

“Well something did,” she said, keeping her voice light, “Steve’s bites flared up and Nancy wanted to check in, so I told her I’d get it.”

“Then it could’ve waited, Chris.” he sighed, “No one’s robbing the half-broken satanist’s dumpster–”

“Maybe there's a chance I actually wanted to go.” she snapped, then paused and took a breath. She picked up a chair and dragged it over to the side of the bed. “Your trailer is– I don't know, nice to me. I told Nancy I'd get it, like, hours ago, and now I'm here before visiting hours are up.”

Eddie watched as she sat down, got that look on his face where you could tell he was thinking but couldn’t guess what. She looked back, and he nodded.

“Well, thanks, Chris.” he said quietly, dropping back to the half-up position of the hospital bed and looking back at his guitar. “Nice to have her back in the room with me again.” he smiled.

“She complained the whole way, y’know, you’re going to have to make it up to her.”

“Oh, I am, aren’t I?” he sighed, with convincing fake exasperation that was broken towards the end with a smile. “Most metal concert in the world and I couldn’t even use the real version of her.”

“Looks like you’ll just have to play it again.”

Eddie glanced over at her, sad for a second before turning back. “Yeah, probably should. Make better memories and all that recovery shit.”

“You should get the rest of Corroded Coffin in on it.” she said, resting her elbows on the bed. “Can’t be the most metal without them, too.”

“Christopher, you wound me.” he ‘gasped’, hand on his chest like clutching pearls, and had he not been sternly advised to rest Chrissy assumed he’d be halfway across the room right now. “Am I alone not metal enough to have that title?”

“Are you not more powerful with Jeff and Grant by your side?” she mused along, imitating his silly accent.

“I knew it, you like Jeff more than me!” he cried, flopping over to one side with the back of his hand over his temple.

Chrissy snorted and hummed a vague agreement.

“Scandalized, betrayed– the ultimate betrayal! The greatest betrayal known to man or woman!” He continued, flopping over to the other side, other hand doing the same pose, “By my best friend no less! And also by Chrissy!”

“You jerk.” she laughed, and laid her head down on her arms pillowed below her.

“Alright, I hear your pleas.” Eddie continued, dropping the arm and looking at her over-earnestly, “You can regain your title by admitting that I’m the most metal… twenty-year-old super-super senior with interdimensional bat bites that you’ve ever met.”

“Deal.” Chrissy laughed, “But a metalhead still belongs with his metal band.”

“Of course. Every good metal band needs someone vaguely louder and charged with murder.”

“And with long hair, of course.”

“Yes, exactly, poor Gareth’s at least a year or two away from anything like this.” he preened, “If one of the nurses doesn't chop it all off before then. Mrs. Mitchell called it a rat’s nest, and I don't really have a mirror here but I don't think she's that far off.” he laughed, fiddling with the end of a curl escaping over his shoulder. Chrissy’s gaze followed the strand up to the rest of the hair, and while, yeah, there was a mess of strands outside of their curls that tied into a matted mess, a lot of what the nurse called a ‘rats nest’ was just frizz. And untamed was not the same as irreparable.

“I can brush it real quick.” she hummed.

“Thought you said you didn’t wanna do hair today?”

“I didn’t want to do my hair.” she corrected, pulling a strand of hair down out in front of her face, twirling it “I kind of just… didn’t want to think about how I look.” She let it fall onto her face, then tucked it back again.

Eddie hummed and sunk down in the bed, hair bunching up across the bed and actively making the ‘rat’s nest’ look worse.

“Yeah, that's okay.” he muttered, then continued, “You don’t exactly brush out curly hair anyway, but thanks for offering, Chris. I’ll probably just have to buzz it again and start over. Or start back at an ugly ass bob.” he laughed, cynically.

“Or,” she said, sitting up to prove she's serious. “You could just let me try to get some tangles out first, because it's really not that bad.”

“Chris, seriously, it’s a mess. Don’t waste your time.”

“It’s never a waste of time.” she said, getting up to find the bag of hygiene stuff in the corner.

“Chris–”

“Ah ah ah, let me explain myself.”

Chrissy dug out a wide comb and then a small compact mirror from her purse before running back to the bed. She held out the mirror and leaned over next to him, pointing the mirror so they’d both be able to see.

“Chris…”

“Hold the mirror.”

Eddie reluctantly held the little compact mirror, much lower to be easier on his body, and pointed it at his face.

“Pretty sight, isn’t it.” he said sarcastically.

“Yup.” Chrissy said earnestly, pulling a bundle of hair out in front and combing through it with her fingers, and hoped Eddie would use her mirror to let himself see it, “It’s just a little tangled down here, I can work through that part for you, and the rest of this–” she combed through the dense fuzz gathering around the shape of the curls like a glow, “This is just extra frizzy from everything. It's like half the amount of tangles the nurse was thinking, just chopping it would be overkill even if it was that bad.”

“Okay, well if I've got a personal stylist, then.” he joked, snapping the compact closed and handing it back, “But only if I can return the favor.”

“Sure.” she smiled, “But you first, scoot over.”

Eddie nodded, taking the arm she offered for assistance in moving. “So on a scale of one to ten how close is this to a classic slumber party?”

“About a seven.”

“Oh, only a seven? What are we missing?”

She laughed and thought about it as she sat on the bed behind him. “Mm, we could use some music. Madonna, The Go-Gos, Cyndi Lauper, all your favorites.”

“Mhm, you know me so well.” He grumbled, playing annoyed.

Chrissy separated out a section of hair and started working through knots gently with her fingers. Eddie did his best to keep still, head only turning slightly, probably without realizing, as he looked around the room thinking of something to do. Not nervous, just allergic to being perfectly still.

“Your book’s on the table back here, if you're looking for it.”

Eddie only hummed so she could know he heard her.

It stayed quiet for a few more moments.

“How’d–”

He shifted slightly to sit differently, and a few strands of hair stayed caught in her hand and got pulled. On reflex he went to touch the spot that hurt, but his bigger injuries stopped him halfway.

“Sorry–”

“Its fine, my bad.” he huffed, then, purposely casual, “How’d it go with Carver?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I mean… he’s taking it better than I expected, I guess.”

“Not freaking out?”

“Nothing like that,” she hummed, “He was still upset in the beginning, kept trying to come up with excuses for me, ironically.”

Eddie hummed to show he was listening.

“So I told him even if none of this happened, I couldn’t stay with someone who wouldn’t listen to what I had to say about it all. And now he’s just… quiet, I think.”

Eddie turned his head slightly to talk to her. “Quiet as in he stopped the conversation? Or stopped talking to you… at all?”

“He still talks to people, and me, if we have anything to talk about, but he’s… lost in thought, I guess, most of the time. Unless there's some special reason to get happy.”

“Huh.” he said, leaning over in a thinking position, forgetting he was supposed to stay still.

Chrissy set the comb down on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, it’s pretty strange. He was always so expressive even before we got together, and I know some of the distance is normal breakup stuff, but since talking with me… it’s like there’s something… actually wrong.”

Eddie shook his head. “I think he’s thinking. Nothing wrong with him, not that you did, or– You did it, but not…” Eddie paused for another second to get his speech straight, then sat back up and turned to her. “He’s thinking about everything. What he did, and what it means now. Now that he can’t tell himself it’s what you would’ve wanted. And if the bastard's lucky–” he cringed right after he said it, then recovered with a breath. “If we’re lucky, he’s questioning what he wants to believe about other people, now that you’re more person than what he was expecting.”

Chrissy nodded, and gestured back to his hair.

“Right, sorry.” he said, sitting straight again.

“You’re fine.” she hummed. “That’s good, then, if he really is thinking things through. He never seemed like the type of person to want to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, turns out you can’t really judge someone until the world is ending.”

“It’s not that. You can’t judge someone under that kind of pressure.” she said, gently pulling excess strands out of a particularly big knot. “It’s more like… he has what it takes to do good, and he just… didn’t. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t know him well enough, but I’d like to think he’s going to get better.”

“Lovely optimism, but I wouldn't hold your breath.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Eddie shrugged, and it was quiet for a good few moments before Eddie started talking again.

“I’d imagine as far as breakups go, this one’s gotta be one of the wildest rides.” he said, and Chrissy could hear the stupid grin he had to be wearing.

“Yeah, it hasn’t exactly been the fairytale romance he was hoping for.”

“God, yeah, he’d probably have a better time in a fucking Shakespearean tragedy. Like, imagine how bad you gotta screw up for your ex to start shooting the shit with the murder suspect.”

Chrissy cracked a smile. “Excuse you, I am willingly shooting the shit with a loud fantasy-loving dork.”

“Augh, you wound me, Christine!” he yelled, throwing his head back, throwing a limp wrist up over his forehead again.

She burst out into a real laugh and pushed him back into place again. “I might for real if you don’t sit still.”

“Again with you and your ruthless betrayals.” he joked, sitting back up again. “Are you this cruel with all your clients?”

“No, only the girls at the slumber party who do too much boy talk.”

“Oh my god, what jackass brings up boyfriends at a slumber party?”

“If you find him, let me know.”

Eddie straightened up, arm coming up as far as he could go in and attempted a mock salute. “When I find the culprit, dear lady, he shall be banished!”

She giggled at his antics, gently parting his hair into two fluffy sections. “Not banished. I just need to let him know his hair’s all set.” Then she tossed both halves of his brushed hair over his shoulder for him to see.

“Holy shit, are you sure this is better?” He laughed, patting the frizz down.

“It's not matted, that’s all I promised.”

“You’ve tricked me, this was your grand scheme! You lured me in with your fabulous looks and promises of detangling, only to trap me in a deal, all to get me to do your hair!”

“Oh yes, it was my plan all along!” she mused with him, getting off the bed to grab her pocketbook.

Chrissy dug around until she found the small hairbrush she kept in there. It wasn’t exactly the best tool, but it’d be enough.

They settled back onto the bed, Eddie sitting more comfortably by the head of the bed, legs folded in so Chrissy could sit close enough in front. Eddie took the pocket hairbrush and a section of her hair and started working through the few tangles gently.

It stayed peacefully quiet for a good few minutes as he focused on not pulling any hair. Then, when there was more smooth hair than knots and he seemed more confident that he wouldn’t hurt her, he started talking.

“If bringing up a guy again won’t get me banished…”

“Of course it won’t.” she laughed, turning slightly to give him her attention.

But he stayed quiet, brushing her hair like he hadn’t heard her.

“It’s a staple of slumber parties, actually,” she continued, less energetic but just as soft, “Madonna, boy talk, and just… regular talk. Secrets, if we want to.”

Eddie hummed, and stayed quiet a second longer.

“Did… have you talked with Harrington lately?”

“Yeah, he’s okay, said he was taking it easier after the flare up as a precaution.”

Eddie hummed absently, stuck in a thought as he ran the brush needlessly through untangled hair, like either he hadn’t thought to stop or wanted to pretend he didn’t.

“Has anyone told you about me? What kind of person I am?”

“I don’t think so?” She turned around, “You’re talking about our friends? Not assholes that don’t know you?”

“No, yeah, definitely– definitely people that know me.” he laughed, cynically.

“Who’s talking shit about you?”

“Nobody’s talking–”

“You’re saying it like you're waiting for someone to drop some dirt on you!”

“I’ve got the dirt on me!” he yelled, then took a breath and lowered his voice. “Harrington just figured me out. And it pissed him off.”

Chrissy searched his expression for any more context, but Eddie was too busy sifting through it himself to leave any to share. Chrissy put a hand on his knee, and waited.

He shook his head and looked away.

“I’m a hypocrite.” he said, then looked up and away to continue with a mocking melody. “The goon that talks himself up as something more honorable than he is, could even dream of being. A spineless rat wearing purpose like a costume.” His wide cynical smile slowly shut and clamped down into a pressed frown. “That sort of thing.”

“Did he say that?”

“No.” Eddie finally looked at her again, all fronts of humor lost. “During that whole fucked-up adventure, alternate dimensions and evil wizards and shit, I learned about myself, that I'm a coward at best. And at worst? I’m a delusional coward playing hero to make myself feel better.”

Finishing his declaration with a concrete certainty. Like he had it all figured out. Like the picture he painted looked anything like him. Like she wouldn’t have slapped him sick for saying that about anyone else.

“So now you know. He doesn’t strike me as a gossip, but, uh… I'd rather you hear it from me. I am nothing if not honest about it now.” he picked up the hairbrush again, gesturing for her to turn around so he could ‘finish’ brushing her hair.

Chrissy turned around again, folding her knees in crisscrossed, and making sure to look at the blank wall across from them.

“So he didn’t tell you that, you decided it. And Steve got mad that you said it.”

“He made me realize it all. He was just mad at my stupid decisions.” Eddie continued, relaxing as he wove his story to the empty room, but still not loud enough to reach anyone else. “I was dropped into a real-life quest, and with real shit on the line, I realized all I think to do is run. I told him, in the middle of it, I didn’t know why– I thought I’d accepted it. So I could go ahead and fix myself before it cost us anything.”

Chrissy could feel the bed shift as he moved to sit another way again, set the hairbrush he was using on the bed beside her.

“But I hadn’t, I just wanted… I wanted to prove it wasn’t there. And he had to have known, he told me not to– but I saw my chance and I took it anyway.

“You mean the bats.”

“I mean jumping into a volcano so I could be a martyr.”

“Buying time for Dustin and the others.”

She waited for his response, but he said nothing, and brushed at the ends of her hair.

Chrissy kept her gaze on the wall in front of her, tracing the designs of the wallpaper so she wouldn’t turn around. “You couldn’t know how necessary it was in the moment. You might’ve been the only reason it worked."

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?”

“That I didn’t want to survive!” he yelled again, then the brush hit the hospital floor. “My body did but my mind wanted to be a hero, wanted to be Obi-wan, Aragorn, Kas, anybody that wasn’t too scared to help, pulled along for the ride because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, with nothing to add to the group of heroes.”

Quiet rang out behind her, and Chrissy made sure to keep her gaze stuck to the wall against her desire to look and understand. Instead, she slid a hand out behind her, palm up as an offer, and Eddie took it, cold hand taking hers quietly.

“You’re being too hard on yourself–”

“I nearly killed myself trying to be something I’m not! And isn’t that fucking pathetic? To try and die to be like a storybook hero– I would’ve been fine if all that storybook shit was a bunch of bull, I could’ve watched the world be more depressing than fantasy, but–” he sighed, his voice starting to shake, “But he’s real. Dragged my sorry ass out of hell and doesn’t even have the decency to be a real dick about it. I just–”

He cut himself off with a big breath. Chrissy squeezed his hand, and he huffed, maybe sad, or maybe a laugh. It was quiet for a second more, and then a weight eased onto her shoulder. She looked over slightly to find Eddie resting the crown of his head against her sweater, and he took a a weak inhale to steady his voice.

“Since, like, second grade I imagined that, yeah, if I were faced with an evil wizard, or an army of minions, or whatever fantasy shit I could play as– I was sure I’d be the type to stand up and fight it, because I knew fear, I knew strategy and combat better than any asshole on the basketball team, and once Hellfire started to be more freshman than anything I figured I’d be the Aragorn to the Hobbits– but now that it’s happened? Playing is the only thing I seem to know how to do. When I wasn’t running for my damn life, I was playing shit like a game, picked the piece I wanted without telling anyone, and then got surprised when life doesn't work like that, and the party already had its hero.”

“And he knows. He can fucking smell it on me, maybe they all can. That i wanted that role so bad i missed the fucking point of it. And now that I’ve accepted it, actually accepted it… I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t lie to the guys, to Dustin, keep playing some kind of bravery now that I know it’s all bull– I can’t host a campaign for Dustin if he knows the kind of person I am when that shit is real, every round of combat he’d know what a hypocrite I am. Maybe I should just stop–”

“Hey, hey,” she turned around, too fast and so uncoordinated that she nearly hit his leg, and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m stopping you there.”

“If you had seen me, Chris, you’d believe me.” he muttered back, matching her volume, “Probably wouldn’t hate me, I don’t really know if you… do that shit.” He cracked a smile, almost like a little laugh at the awkward wording.

“Well, even if I was humanly capable of hating people, because hate is such a strong word,” she smiled, leaning into the joke, and Eddie huffed, “I still don’t think I’d hate you for this.”

“That is probably… the most Chrissy answer possible.” he laughed again and wiped at his face.

“Yeah, maybe…” She let out a deep breath, “You want to know what I think?”

Eddie hesitated, sulking and thinking for a few moments, then shrugged. “Yeah. Color me curious.”

Chrissy nodded and took a moment to put her thoughts together. Because she could give a good pap-talk, could find something nice to say about every girl in her squad, but Eddie would immediately be able to tell if she tried a pep-talk, and he’d hate it. So Chrissy spoke slowly.

“I think… you’ve taken a picture of yourself, and you’re treating it like a mirror.”

Eddie looked up, eyes questioning for a second before opening his mouth to ask, for good reason, because pictures and mirrors were a Chrissy problem, because Eddie used that metaphor not even a week ago with her. But Chrissy held up a hand between them, asking for just another second to explain further, because Eddie didn't have the pictures or mirrors specifically, but metaphors and analogies were an Eddie language.

“You have a picture of yourself… and it’s real– and other people can see it, if you show it to them. It's a picture, not a painting– But it’s one picture, and you’ve stared at it too long–”

Eddie caught the connection but didn't like it, leaning out of the conversation with a huff, looking off to the side, far away from her face, with well-restrained frustration.

Chrissy grabbed his shirt and pulled him back over, making sure he’d look her in the eye.

“You stare at it too long, because someone back down the line told you you had to,” she gritted out, “That if you just stare at these pictures hard enough, you'll finally figure out what everyone else sees, and you’ll finally find what’s wrong with you.”

Eddie didn’t look away but she clearly hit a nerve, so Chrissy dropped her hand, softened her tone.

“Because if you can find what’s wrong with you, you can fix it, and then you’ll be happy. Or… better. Or deserving– whatever it is. But it’s a picture. And even if it’s showing you everything as it is, even if you're right about everything you’re seeing, it's just one side of you, and it could never capture all that you are.”

Eddie sat and stared at her, expression guarded, but only in that way that you couldn't control. The urge to stay unbothered or undecided as you thought, to pause the moment so you could take in everything and breathe.

Eddie nodded, barely there, just a slight move on an inhale. His eyes flicked back and forth between her and the walls before his face soured, slightly to keep that same guard up, and he ducked his head down into both hands, a curtain of frizzy hair covering his face.

Chrissy waited for a second, but he didn’t move. So she set a hand out on the bed in front of him, and he shifted one hand free from propping himself up, grabbing hers on the bed and holding on.

“The people that love you most will always see more than a picture of you. How you look when you’re doing things that you love, how you help people that are lost in their worst nightmares.” She smiled, the memory both sweet and sad, “I remember thinking– with everything going on, the one thing I remember best when I first really talked to you? Was how bright you are.”

Chrissy smiled, looking down, and brushed her thumb absently against the big chrome rings adorning the hand still holding hers.

“You've got the whole… all black, tough guy, stomping on tables, big denim and leather but when you take that off you're just… so bright. You know you're a lighthouse but you're also a candle, keeping the light around when the powers gone out. You couldn't know what was going on with me, but you knew there was something, and you cared enough to make me laugh in spite of it, just by being yourself. You don’t know how to take down the evil wizards or fight an army of monsters because a group of heroes is not who you fight for. And to be useful to someone else’s story was never what made people love you.”

Chrissy paused for a breath or two, then lowered the crown of her head to rest on top of his.

“If I had died, my last wish would've been to go back to your trailer’s living room. Or that bench beyond the field, or to sit at the lunch table full of people that you make an escape for, whatever place that'd bring me back to that glowing life in you. And if you can’t see how beautiful you are, I’ll be your eyes until you do.”

Eddie kept a death grip on her hand, a grip she tried to match, and a tear or two ran down her face. She wiped them away with her one free hand, and with her other she loosened her grip, then moved the thumb side to side, softly brushing against the skin on the back of his hand.

“Cheater.” Eddie mumbled to the bed, voice raw and quiet. “S’plagiarism. Half your damn speech.”

She huffed lightly at his joke, and smiled. “Well, I still mean it.”

“Of course you do.” he whispered, then shifted his head a bit. Chrissy sat up straighter again to give him space to move, but he didn't shift again.

Eddie's thumb started tracing the back of her hand, repeating the motion she unconsciously stopped. Chrissy started it again, and put her head back on top of Eddie's.

“I don't think plagiarism is the right word. Maybe inspiration.”

Eddie laughed.

“Yeah, y’pulled calling a grown-ass man ‘beautiful’ out of thin air.”

“What, do you not think you're pretty, Munson?” she challenged, ducking her head down to try and peer through his hair.

“Oh, I'm just ‘pretty’ now?”

Chrissy bursted out laughing, and Eddie shot up, pushing back some of his hair to play into the theatrics even more.

“What happened to ‘beautiful’, Chrissington, hm?”

“You know what I mean–” she giggled.

“No, no, I see how it is–”

“You're beauuuuuutiful~~”

“Noooooope.”

“Gooooorgeous~~”

“You're flattery cannot convince me–”

“Ooo, ravishing!!”

“Oh my god–” he made a dumb gagging sound, sticking out his tongue and everything.

“Oh, that's where we draw the line.”

“Yes, god, never say that about me again.”

“Ravishing~~”

“NOPE!” He yelled, slapping hands over his ears, “Can't hear you!”

“Don't yell!” she hissed through another huge smile.

“WHAT? I CAN'T–”

“Stoooop,” she pulled his hands off his head with a laugh, “You’re going to get me kicked out.”

“Oh, sorry, forgot breaking the rules was a fate worse than death.”

“Stolen metaphors aside,” she said, coming back down from the chaos, “You’ll trust me on this, right?”

Eddie considered, catching his breath, residual joy and tears both lingering on his face.

“Y’know, instinct says not to, but…” he hummed, then cracked a small smile, “Flattery works incredibly well with me, so I’ll take your word on it.”

#chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy and eddie #eddie and chrissy #platonic hellcheer #stranger things #stwg #devon's writings #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #hellcheer fanfic

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ninebluehearts · 1 year

Note

Hi baby! I have a Drabble request if ur up to it!

Could you maybe do something with a reader with adult acne/acne scars? I’m 25 and still have significant acne, but I got a crap tone of acne scars 😭😭

OMFG ME TOO BAE- Just a reminder that you're fucking beautiful and a bad bitch. Remember the 3G's babygirl (gatekeep, gaslight, girlboss💗🦋💗)

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You had a million bad habits; chewing your nails, bouncing your leg, picking at the skin around your nails, biting your inner cheek.. But none of them compared to how badly you picked at your face.

Reading a book? Your finger is already absentmindedly dragging along your cheek to look for a bump.

Catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and notice the little white dot on your nose? Next thing you know your entire face is red from all of the pinching and pulling.

Steven is constantly getting on you for it, warning you that you are going to ruin your skin if you keep it up.

You always brush him off, promising that you'd try to stop at some point. You tried to not do it around him, though sometimes you didn't even know you were doing it until he said something.

It was even worse when you just got out of the shower. The hot water had opened your pores enough to where it made everything come out much easier.

You had spent the last twenty minutes picking at the spots on your forehead and your left cheek, which were the spots that seemed to flare up the most.

It wasn't until a loud knock sounded from the bathroom door that you stopped, staring back at what you had done. "Shit.." You mumbled, staring at all of the fresh, swollen bumps on your skin, patches of red surrounding them.

Marc walked in when you didn't answer, immediately noticing your puffy skin. "Ah baby, I thought you said you were gonna stop?"

You let out a long groan, digging around in the closet for one of the face masks Steven had given you. "Yeah, yeah. It's not that easy."

"I know but damn." Marc mumbled, watching you rip the top off of a packet filled with a green paste. "Lemme do it?" He reached out for the packet, grinning when you gave it to him.

You sat on the edge of the sink, allowing Marc to stand in between your legs as he smeared a finger full of paste across your cheek, the smell of cucumber filling the space between you two.

"I don't understand why you do this, baby. Doesn't it hurt?"

"Kind of. It seems worth it in the moment though. It's like- I've got one goal and I'll do anything to get that satisfaction, ya know?"

"I guess." Marc mumbled, focusing on making sure you had an even amount of the mask covering each part of your face. "Alright, I think you're good. But you've seriously gotta stop doing that babe."

"Yeah, yeah.'' You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a peck on the lips. "I love you." You said, prolonging the 'u' sound.

Marc rolled his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, dear." He then picked you up from the sink, carrying you back into the living room. "Movie night?"

"Movie night." You rested your head on his shoulder, thanking the gods above for sending you a man like Marc.

Taglist: @hot-mess-express1

#💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #marc spector #moon knight #steven grant #moon knight imagine #marc spector x reader #thanks for the ask!#marc spector imagine #marc spector fic #marc spector moon knight #steven grant (mentioned)#moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac hernandez estrada #oscar isaac #romana's asks 💗🦋💗

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justahopelessaromantic · 5 months

Text

Upgraded Voices In My Head (Ch. 5: Michael makes an entrance)

Fandom: Be More Chill: The Musical Ships: Boyf riends and Squipemy Links to Chapters 1, 2, 3, and 4 Summary: Jeremy, for the most part, was okay with the effects of accidentally drinking Mountain Dew. Having an upgraded Squip that's no longer a complete douche-bag (okay, he was still a little shitty, but nothing too unbearable)? Cool. Squip playing matchmaker for him and his multiple crushes? Awesome. Falling in love with said Squip? Not exactly ideal.

Dropping down to the final step, Jeremy swiveled around to awkwardly lean against the soda-stained arm of a battered sofa (the Squip would have to convince him to dispose of that later), all while never taking his eyes off the rather uncomfortable advanced AI. He stared the boy down for a few moments in a (successful, if his host’s increased fidgeting was any indication) attempt at intimidation before shuddering, a wave of cold electricity running up his spine, and snapped back in hopes of distracting from his darkening cheeks, air sudden too hot and room too cramped (especially with the gremlin huddled in one of the couch’s corner and gripping the controller so hard his nails were digging into its plastic sides, music blaring from his oversized headphones so loud it was audible even from where they stood as glossed over eyes fixated themselves on crude low poly pixel art).

“What?” He sneered, practically baring his fangs and catching the human off guard before he mentally scrambled for a reply that didn’t reveal how shamelessly he’d been checking the computer out.

“I, uh, I was just wondering why, um, why you’re human form still looks kinda like Keanu Re-oof!” Before Jeremy could finish, his guest ripped off his headphones, threw them on the woolen carpet, and tackled him in a warm hug, flinging them both into the sofa cushion and wiping the hostile interaction clean from the host’s mind. The Squip, eyeing the home intruder visitor cautiously, silently slipped behind the stairs as Jeremy reciprocated the hug, burying his face in his friend’s soft shoulder for a soft moment before beaming a warm smile at him. “Michael! Holy shit, it’s so good to see you, man. How come you’re home early?”

“Our flight back got cancelled so we took an early one home. The trip was still hella gnarly though. God, you woulda loved it, man! We’re taking you with us next time, I promi...whoooooa, wait...” Eerie silence pierced through enthusiasm to reveal concern as he finally took in Jeremy’s new apprentice in full. The gamer gently cupped his reddening face with one hand, gingerly thumbing over the fresh scar, along with a few stray acne bumps, on his cheek and brushing the soft curls dangling in front of his bandages out of the way. “Dude, what...happened?” Startled by the sudden intimacy, he bashfully turned to the side to avoid his friend’s intense stare and explained what led to the mess that was last night, taking particular care to leave out the face planting like a moron bit and being practically coddled by his dotting Squip before standing back up and bracing himself for Michael’s reaction.

“...Well,...yeah, but...you’re good now, right?” He pried, poking and prodding a now heavily flustered Jeremy’s face in search of any \ injuries he might’ve missed. “‘Cause I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if something serious happened just ‘cause I wasn’t here to, like, nag you about taking care of yourself n’ shit.”

Jeremy's eyes widened before they shifted to the floor, his hands beginning to fidget again (Squip would have to deal with that later). “Aw, c’mon, Micky, y-you know you don’t have to worry about me.” The jet lag from his wonky trip hours ensured that Michael did not have the time, nor the energy, to explain why that sentence took the prize for Biggest Understatement of the Decade. ”I’m totally fine! I mean, my head is givin’ me hell and I’m fucking starving, but, like, besides that Squip says I’ll be fine, so, uh, yeah.” He spat out, earning an overly drawn-out sigh of relief from his player 1 who slumped back into his seat.

“Oh, thank god!” Shoulders dropping, Michael leaned back against his friend and let out a sigh. “Man, you are so fucking lucky you’re not hurt for real, Jer. You pull a stunt like that again and I won’t hesitate, bi-wait did you say squip?” The other nodded casually before Michael shot him a curious look.

“Oh, right! Okay,..” He shot up out of his seat and swiftly grabbed Michael’s sleeve, ripping him up from the couch to reveal a stone-faced, cleanly dressed man that the player 1 could only describe as a stylish and almost threatening version of “chill” personified practically staring into his soul, while Jeremy hooked himself onto the man’s arm, vibrating with an almost childlike excitement. It vaguely reminded him of the joy that the player 2 radiated after finally asking Christine out or finding out about how to silence Squip's excessive internal nagging with a Mountain Dew red binge (the irony between that last example and the situation at hand did not escape Michael) “So! This is my-”

“Squip.” He interjected, extending an arm in search of a handshake while silently bracing himself to touch a most likely greasy and calloused hand. “Shorthand for super quantum unit Intel processor. You must be Michael. Truly a...” Closing his eyes and grimacing, he forced out his best, almost like the words stung. “...pleasure...to meet you, sir. Jeremy has told me many oh, for god sakes, why do you humans insist on throwing things at me today!?” The hologram groaned, bending over to pick up the thrown Xbox controller that had phased through him and place it back on top of its console while Jeremy ran to Michael’s side.

Failing to apprehend his friend due to his less-than-stellar strength (see: noodle arms), he opted for a more reason-based persuasion, muting the voice inside his head nagging on about how the emotion-driven best friend would probably just dismiss anything he said when dealing with something this serious.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem!?”

Micheal gave his friend a baffled look before pointing at the hologram. “That! That thing is the source of like...85% of all my problems.”

“I assume the other 15% stem from your raging idiocy, correct?”

Before Michael could bite back with a “Fuck off, you satanic tic tac!” or something equally unclever, Jeremy glared at his Squip before overprotective wrapping his arms around Michael, whose eyes widened at the sudden contact, and pulling him close, taking a half step back from the program. “Hey, cool it, dude! That’s, like, my favorite person you’re talking about.”

The Squip cringed at the young adult’s poor taste. “That’s your favorite person?” Clearly, he didn’t have much competition for the title.

...not that he wanted it, of course.

“Oh, yeah, uh, sorry about that. I swear, he’s usually not...” Jeremy studied the almost bloodthirsty look in the eyes of his kicking and screaming friend as he clawed frantically at the offending Intel processor. “...like this.”

“I should hope not. Spending too much time around someone so...” The computer program circled around the calmer yet still scouring teen, combing over every inch of him with his electronic scanners. “...juvenile would hinder my objective.”

“Suck a dick, asshole!”

The Squip only blinked. “I hope you know you’re only proving my point.”

“I hope you know you’re a defective piece of shit.”

A harsh, palpable silence fell over the room as Michael slumped into his player two’s arms in gradual exhaustion, and said player loosened his grip subtly and unwittingly leaned toward his Squip, his wide eyes frantically picking apart each pixel. Simulated breath hitching, the Squip froze for so long, Jeremy had time to toy with the idea that he might be glitching. The last time Jeremy saw him project glossy, shifting eyes, shaky hands, and a loss for words (God knows that thing never shut up) was during the glimpse he caught moments before passing out from the shock of The Play™. Back then it’d only been there as a last-ditch attempt to draw sympathy out of Jer in vain hopes of reactivation, but there was no reason for it now, considering the lack of real, high-stakes threat (Unless you counted Michael and, quite frankly, he knew the Squip was smart enough not to). The first time was a dull shock to Jeremy’s system.

The second only stirred up a vague sense of concern he was sure the Intel processor saw.

The Squip, of course, couldn’t have that.

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solidwater-arts · 3 months

Text

Woe, OCs be upon ye

Closeups here (link)

[ID: An alignment chart in which each quadrant has a drawing of a different character. There are three horizontal rows and three vertical columns. The rows are labeled "My life is a living hell", "I have no idea how I got here, even less where I'm going" and "I'm having a great time", and the columns are labeled "and I have nobody to blame but myself", "and God will regret letting me live", and "and I'm making that everyone else's problem".

All the art has a messy pixelated style. From left to right, top to bottom, the characters drawn are as follows:

- My life is a living hell

and I have nobody to blame for myself. The character is a humanoid with a head similar to a magnetic drawing board. The head is pink with green accents, and it has handles on each side vaguely resembling a cobra hood. They have a drawn on face with a stressed expression.

and God will regret letting me live. Lucy is a pale woman with wavy long dirty blonde hair. Her color scheme is dull and muted. She has blue eyes and a pink dress with a yellow undershirt. She has messy angel wings and a broken halo. She has a tired expression.

and I'm making that everyone else's problem. Pink is a crewmate from Among Us. They have a strawberry ice cream cone on their head, and their outfit has small yellow and blue accents. It's looking into the distance with a concerned expression.

- I have no idea how I got here, even less where I'm going

and I have nobody to blame but myself. Dr. Malacoda is a white man with messy brown hair that covers his right eye. He has vibrant blue eyes, rectangle glasses, and he's wearing a white dress shirt, a black tie, and a white lab coat. He's nervously looking to the side.

and God will regret letting me live. Gabriel is a demon with reddish skin and messy short black hair. He has visible body hair, stretch marks and acne scars. He has black horns and black bat wings. His eyes have yellow sclerae, grey irises, and red slit pupils. He has long dark red eyelashes and a goatee. He is wearing a black tube top, and a black fishnet sleeve with red accents on his left arm. He has a black choker and a few piercings. He is posing with his left arm above his head and he has a mischievous smile.

and I'm making that everyone else's problem. Spam is drawn in a sketchy style in white on a black background. They have messy hair and a tattered suit, and their eyes are covered by scribbles. They have a puppet mouth. They're laughing with their hand near their mouth in a tense position. The background is littered with warning signs, crosses and pop-ups in the primary colors.

- I'm having a great time

and I have nobody to blame but myself. Darling is a brown person with long brown hair in a low ponytail. They are wearing a purple jacket and a pink binder. He is blushing and smiling. The background has yellow and black stripes and pink hearts.

and God will regret letting me live. Coral is a crewmate from Among Us. They have an anglerfish lure. They are leaning against the wall and smiling smugly with an irregularly drawn mouth.

and I'm making that everyone else's problem. White is a crewmate from Among Us. They are wearing a golden crown that floats above their head. They seem to be smiling maniacally, although their mouth isn't visible. It is doing a cutting motion across its neck, indicated by a yellow dotted line. /End ID]

Here's some of my guys! The first one is nameless (they/them) (I promise their lack of a name is plot relevant). Then there's Lucy (she/her), Pink (any), Dr. Malacoda (he/him), Gabriel (he/him), Spam (they/them), Darling (any except she/her), Coral (they/them) and White (they/it). The nameless one is a TADC OC, Malacoda and Darling are SCP OCs, Spam is from a DR AU, Pink Coral and White are from Among Us, and Lucy and Gabriel are fully original. Ask about them if you want

Alt under the cut, it has eye clusters, a noose, and blood.

[ID: The same alignment chart as before, with some changes in the art.

The background of Dr. Malacoda's quadrant has multiple eyes staring at him. Spam has a bright green noose around their neck. White is covered in blood. /End ID]

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years

Text

acne scars // mick schumacher

summary: just supportive boyfriend mick and his girlfriends acne scars

authors note: for all my babes with acne scars: you are beautiful <3. I don’t think I have scars yet, but I know they’re forming and that sometimes makes me feel icky

mick probably didn’t even notice the scars at first bless him

it’s always been dark, or in moments clouded by passion and lust

and they’ve only really been together for a few months

he comes home from the gym one day to find y/n leaning against the kitchen island, a zip up sweater thrown over her panties and bralette

the sweater dips down her shoulders because it hasn’t been done up all the way

shoulders and upper back on display

mick comes up behind her, kissing her shoulder before he starts tracing the marks on her back as if it was a connect the dots puzzle

nothing could have prepared him for how terrible it would sting when she pulled away from him

“sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

and that’s when she comes clean about her scars, telling the whole story about her struggles with acne and how because she kept picking at the blackheads, the tissue was permanently damaged

“I think I just found out what we’re doing with the rest of our day.”

scooping y/n into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom

“I am going to kiss every single one of those scars until you see how pretty you are, scars and all.”

encouraging her to start wearing more tank tops and what not so she’s not hiding the scars

He’s so fucking supportive I swear to god

lazily tracing them while lying in bed

especially the ones on her back

scars on boobies? you bet he loves those ones too

kissing them, tracing them

even does research into different creams and scar tissue treatments because he thinks it may help boost her self confidence

he’s probably the reason she got a little heart shaped tattoo over one of the scars on her shoulder blade

because it’s in the spot he likes to kiss the most

🥺🥺🥺🥺

hes literally the best boyfriend on the planet

so supportive

hes secretly proud of himself for getting his gf to love that part of herself just a little bit mkre

becauae all he wants is for her to feel comfortable in her own skin

#mick schumacher x y/n #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher #formula one x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 headcanon #for all my babes with acne scars #you are valid

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termagax · 8 months

Note

19 + 40 for whoever u want but im partial to mako if u want

19 - on top of a scar/injury // 40 - while one is asleep

It was a rare thing, to be awake before Roadhog. The fish had a tendency to sleep heavily, but for all his talk about being lazy he was a light sleeper, nervous and quick to wake, an early riser at the best of times. Between the two of them, rat and fish often had trouble getting him into bed at all - he was always looking over his shoulder for something, sitting at the foot of the bed like a guard dog on night watch.

But out here, something was different. Hundreds of miles from any shore, nothing but open ocean visible in every direction, just the three of them. The walls that held Roadhog together seemed to melt away, letting... something show its face. Not quite Mako anymore, that time was long gone, but he was softer, sweeter, less guarded. He spoke more, smoked less, and slept easier.

It was late, or maybe early, and the fish had woken up with a killer headache, squirming out of bed as quietly as they could manage. They'd grabbed a bottle from the kitchen before heading up to the deck for some fresh air.

They gave it about an hour before heading back to try and get more sleep, a buzz mellowing out the worst of the pressure in their skull. They stumbled back to the bedroom, holding their lure out like a lantern so they could see in the pitch black ship.

They cussed under their breath, light revealing that Junkrat had rolled oved into their spot, curled up against Roadhog's side where he had comandeered the entire left half of the bed, leaving them to the cold and lonely bit on the right.

That simply wouldn't do.

Instead, they crawled on top of him, sprawling out over his stomach and chest. They took a second to admire the view - it wasn't one they got to see often.

On the scale of things, seeing Roadhog asleep was about ten times as intimate as seeing him naked. Seeing Roadhog without his mask, really fully without it, was about a million times more intimate than seeing him naked. Seeing him like he was now, snoring like a boar, mask left hanging on a bedpost, completely without pants (he always complained that it was too hot on the ship to sleep any other way) was a treasure rarer and more precious than any jewel they could ever steal.

So they savored it accordingly, fondly brushing a strand of hair out of his face where it had gotten caught on the corner of his mouth.

He was pretty, really. He had a nice, broad nose and strong brow and that thinning but well-maintained white hair framed his soft jaw and stubbly cheeks like an angel.

The right side of his face was curled and gnarled, an old burn giving the skin a splotchy redder hue. Ridges of the scar shone in the dull blue light like he was a painting, the texture blooming down his neck and the back of his right arm. Like the rest of him, his whole face was dotted in pock marks - moles or acne scars or otherwise, though his face was a shade lighter than the rest of his skin from years of being hidden from the harsh wasteland sun (save, of course, for his ears). Golden rings and studs accentuated his best features; the one on his bottom lip - just right of center - was their personal favourite. They ran a thumb over it idly, smiling at the way each breath curled his lips in a gross snore, a small trail of drool down his cheek.

Altogether, he was simply gorgeous, beautiful beyond words. If they told him that, he'd laugh like it was a joke and say something smug and self-assured, but they really did think he was the sun and stars and more. He took their breath away every time they saw him, falling in love all over again.

It was a shame to keep it all tucked behind the mask so much. They'd kill to get to see the creases cornering his eyes and framing his brow, little markers of age showing how far away he was now from the sweet, quiet farmhand he'd been when they'd first met. Bittersweet, they supposed.

They curled into his neck, getting as comfortable as they could piled on top of him, tail flickering as they got cozy. They pressed a kiss into his neck, savoring the texture of the scar under their lips, the lift of his chest with each heavy, rhythmic breath, the smell of sweat on his skin and the light florals of his shampoo in his hair. They let themselves drift off, the last thought floating in their mind a sense of smug contentment - Hog felt safer here than he did anywhere else in the world, and that was a fact.

#this is kinda rambly and aimless and the flow is off in a way i cant get right. might come back in the morning?#anyways. so. boyfriend huh.#🐟#🐉#<- theres only two dino emojis and im using the other ones. SAD. stego emoji when ?!

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