#oldhaunts
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Isn't She Lovely?
Chicago, Illinois
November 20, 1987
Laying quietly in their bed, head and shoulders propped up comfortably against a few pillows, Chrissy watches the powdery violet clouds hanging lowly in the pale orange sky out the window. It’s almost sunset. The days are growing shorter now. Colder too. She’s tucked under their flannel sheets, the ugly burnt orange afghan with its loose stitches and its torn holes, and a few of May’s old quilts that Wayne packed in the back of the van despite Eddie complaining there wasn’t any more room left.
“It gets cold and windy in that city, punk. Your poor little lady is going to freeze to death.”
The two of them were repressing their emotions about the move and it was coming off in passive aggressive grunts and jabs all morning.
“No, she won’t.” Eddie rolls his eyes as Wayne passes him after he successfully managed to shove three patchwork quilts between the stacks. As soon as his uncle is back in the trailer, he saunters up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist while she’s busy loading the last few boxes through the sliding back door, making her squeak in surprise. He tucks his face in the crook of her neck. “I’ll keep you plenty warm.” he whispers, planting kisses along her skin, lips parting and then slowly closing against that soft sensitive place just behind her ear, lighting her skin on fire.
She feels her cheeks burn, smiling foolishly despite the nervous ache throbbing in her chest. He certainly kept his promise over their last year together. She’s never cold for very long.
Fingers fiddling with the fraying edges of the top quilt, she glances at the slim plastic stick on the bedside table atop a neatly folded paper towel, its padded tip very much the color blue. Not remotely white.
It’s been hours since she snuck across the street to the pharmacy after Eddie left for work. The cashier, Janice, gave her a smirk when she tried to place the little box casually on the counter beside her bottle of ginger ale and aspirin.
“Didn’t you just get back from Huron a few weeks ago?” she asked in amusement.
“…yeah.” Chrissy sighed.
“Mmmm.” she hummed knowingly.
Knees swaying back and forth beneath the blankets, her own little patchy mountain to hide behind, she absentmindedly wonders when it happened. They’d always been careful, but after the wedding there were admittedly a few times they got carried away, too desperate and thoughtless, too lost in one another.
She can’t be certain, of course, but she thinks she knows… That first morning in Michigan, hazy beneath the red and gold leaves, the mist slowly burning up under the heat of the early sun.
There’s a chill in the air, they forgot to close the windows last night, but they’re warm and safe, tucked away beneath a shelter of their sheets and blankets.
It’s just the two of them in the middle of nowhere, woven together so tightly she doesn’t know where she ends and he begins.
This must be what it means. She thinks. When they say two become one.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, Chrissy, I love you…” he pants dazedly against her lips, still half asleep. “Chrissy… Chrissy… Chrissy…”
Joyful tears trail down her face from the corner of her eyes as she tries to respond, tries to tell him too, but she’s breathless, gasping, he’s never been buried so deeply inside her.
With an open kiss to her lips, he begins moving again, slow and languid, hand curling in her hair. “Eddie, I love… I-I… oh…” she sighs, tilting her head back, relishing the feel of him, eyes tightening, fingers digging into the skin of his neck and shoulder blade when he reaches that special place within. She can’t think, let alone speak. She feels his forehead resting against hers, lingering there for a while, his shuddered breath spilling over her, flushing her skin, filling her lungs.
When her eyes flutter open, she’s met with his dark lidded gaze, soft and adoring. Sunlight flares between them from the window. Heaven’s light. He looks so young, so happy. Her husband. Her family. With a little sob, she pulls him into another kiss. “I love you.” she tells him. “I love you so much.”
The front door opens, and she turns her head toward the digital alarm clock. He’s a little late, but that’s not unusual on Fridays.
Taking the test, she opens the drawer of the side table and hides it inside. She hears him through the thin walls, taking off his shoes and coat, hanging them up in the closet. He’s moving slowly, trying to be quiet.
A few moments later, the door handle turns, the hinges whining. He peers in tentatively, in case she’s asleep. His face lights up, making her heart flip in her chest. “Hey, Mrs. Munson,” he whispers.
“Hi,” she breathes a bashful, silly smile, watching him as he crosses the room. He’s covered in a thin layer of sweat, his clothes blotchy with motor oil, hair still tied back.
“Feeling any better?” he asks softly.
“Mmhmm,” she hums as he leans down, parting her bangs to kiss her forehead. “Just tired.”
“No fever, right?” he asks against her skin, peppering his lips along her temple, lingering a moment, applying more pressure to check her temperature. She shakes her head faintly as he pulls away, blinking up at him.
“Hmm,” he muses, looking her over. She can see he’s a little worried. “Might want to get this checked out if you’re not better tomorrow.”
“I’m okay.” she promises. “Really, I probably could have gone to class today.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, you’re still pretty peaky.” he carefully brushes against the tender skin under her eye with the back of his fingers. “Have you been able to keep anything down?” he asks.
“Yeah, I had some toast for lunch.” she replies.
“That’s good,” he whispers as he kisses her mouth tenderly, sweet and slow. The last few days have been hard for him, watching her bent over the toilet in the early morning hours. It’s probably brought back memories of their summer in the trailer when she would lock herself in the bathroom.
She promised him over and over it wasn’t voluntary as he held her hair above her head. “I know.” he told her, holding her close when it was all over, stroking her back. “I know.” She hasn’t purged for over a year, but she knows that was his first thought, his first fear.
“I’m going to take a shower real quick.” he tells her. “You need anything?”
She shakes her head, leaning up for another kiss. “Just you.”
A goofy, flustered smile spreads across his face, and she wonders if their child will have his dimples. He pecks her lips softly, then her nose. “Be right back.”
She leans back against the cushions, turning her gaze back to the sky, her smile faltering a little, a shaky sigh escaping her.
It’s not long till he’s back, changed into his sweats and a loose, sleeveless gray Dio shirt, a mug of steaming ginger tea in his hand. He exchanges it for her empty one that’s sitting on the coaster beside her.
“Thank you.” she whispers softly.
He smiles, kissing her cheek as he climbs over her, settling in, resting his head against her chest with a content, tired sigh. “God, I missed you all day,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around her snugly. “I just kept worrying about you being home alone and sick.” She wraps him up under the afghan, holding him tenderly against her heart, stroking his long, towel dried waves. His warmth and weight anchor her, slow the racing of her heart. After a while, he tilts his head up, his large eyes peeking above the small swells of her breasts, making her smile. “What?”
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks gently. “You’re so quiet.”
“I’m always quiet,” she points out.
“Mmm no,” he leans up on his palms. “This isn’t normal Chrissy quiet.” he counters, kissing her again, a little longer than before. “This is something’s going on quiet.” he lowers himself back down but keeps his gaze on her.
“Give it to me straight, Cunningham.” he teases, grinning coyly against the fabric of her rose-pink pajama top.
“Munson.” she corrects pointedly, making his smile grow.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” he replies cheekily, leaning his head to the side, as if he didn’t know. “Made an honest woman out of you, didn’t I?”
She exhales a soft laugh, brushing back his bangs, cradling his jaw in her hands, taking in the face of the man she loves. She can see the dark flecks in his eyes in the light from the window as he stares up into her, his irises amber glass in the glow of the sun. They move back and forth, searching. He sobers. “Chrissy?”
“…I’m not sick, not exactly,” she brushes her thumb over his chapped lips. “…I’m pregnant, Eddie.” she whispers faintly. “We’re having a baby.”
His eyes widen as his lips part beneath her thumb, his whole body stilling. “You’re…” he pauses, blinking rapidly.
She nods, pursing her lips, waiting for his mind to catch up with what she just said.
“You’re… We’re…” And then he breathes a smile so bright and beautiful it makes her insides ache. “A baby?” he whispers giddily.
“Yeah,” she sighs in relief, returning his smile.
“Really?” he asks, joy and excitement dancing in his eyes, holding her tighter. “You’re sure?”
She sniffs softly, shrugging a little before pulling the test out of the drawer, holding it out to him. “Probably want to make an appointment to make sure sure, but I’m late and it’s… really blue.”
He takes it carefully, looking it over, opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to do or say. She tucks his hair back behind his ear patiently. It takes a lot to render Eddie Munson speechless. “Jesus Christ… yeah, it’s like super fucking blue.” he releases a watery chuckle, setting it back on the table, his hand sliding back down over her as he rolls to his side, touching her stomach in amazement. “Chrissy… I can’t… God, I’m… I can’t breathe… I’m so…There’s a baby in here? We’re having baby…” his hand stills once more as he looks back up at her, his smile falling when he meets her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Her lips begin to tremble, eyes misting over. He can always see right through her.
“You’re okay, right?” he asks worriedly, reaching up to hold her face. “Chrissy, right? You’re okay? You’re happy?”
“Yes, I am, I promise, I’m so, so happy, Eddie… I’m just…” she lifts the back of her hand to her mouth.
“…Scared?” he whispers.
She bursts into tears, nodding shakily as she releases a soft little sob.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he pulls himself up to sit beside her, kissing her cheek, then her lips deeply, over and over again, swallowing her sobs, wiping away her tears. “Don’t be scared, please, it’s all going to be okay.” He trails hurried kisses to her jaw, down her neck. “You don’t have to be afraid; I know… I know it’s not much right now, but I’ll take care of you,” he vows. “I’ll take care of both of you, I promise.”
“No, Eddie, no,” she shakes her head firmly, pulling back so she can face him. “I know that... I know you will, that’s not it at all.”
“Then what? What is it?” He pecks her lips a few times. Prompting. “Come on, talk to me.”
“It’s just…” It’s all thick in her throat. This moment is supposed to be wonderful and as usual she’s ruining everything for him, with her fears, her weakness.
“It’s me.” she confesses. “What if… what if I’m not a good mother?”
“What are you talking about?” he exclaims softly in disbelief, pushing back her hair.
“It’s not like I have the best example,” she replies. “She’s in me, you know? What if deep down I'm like her? What if I…”
“Chrissy, you’re nothing like her,” he murmurs. “You’re kind and gentle and loving… Christ, do you have any idea? Any idea how much this kid is going to adore you?”
“Me?” Her heart swells almost painfully, tears falling more abundantly. She turns into him, burying her face in his chest, squeezing his neck.
“Are you kidding? I mean, I’ll be okay, I’ll try my best… but God, you? I’ll be nothing compared to you.” she feels his hands slide down her back soothingly.
“That’s not true,” she’s laughing through her tears, she doesn’t know how he always manages to make her feel everything all at once. “You’ll be the fun one, I’ll be so worrisome and boring.”
He smiles against her temple. His fingers sliding back up to hold her face, pulling her back just enough to meet her gaze. "You’ll be amazing.” he whispers reverently. “You are amazing.”
“I’m still…” she sniffs, leaning against his palm. “I’m still healing.” Maybe not as much physically anymore, but mentally, emotionally…
“So am I,” he reminds her softly. “I think we’re always going to be, sweetheart.” he keeps pressing kisses against every surface of her face like he can’t help it. She closes her eyes, relishing his love. He pulls her back into him, tucking her tight the way she likes. “I still want this, a family with you, I always have, ever since… Jesus, ever since the first night with you.”
“Me too.” she confesses, already feeling warmer, safer in his arms.
“We’re having a baby.” she hears him say again after a long while, as if he still can’t believe it.
She smiles against his chest. “Yeah.”
#giving this its own post because awwww#originally posted in an ask#it also needs a moodboard too#ask post#🥺🥺🥺#hellcheer#oldhaunts#little livvy is on her way#eddie x chrissy#chrissy x eddie#chreddie#hellcheer fic#eddissy#my fic writing
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#Repost @awastudiosofficial with @repostsaveapp · · · Our crime thrillers and mysteries are some of our most popular graphic novels, and it’s no wonder with talent like @christafaust, @priscilla_petraites, @marco_lesko, @jasonstarrbooks, @willconradart, @ivannunessp, @mccomseycomics, @mikedeodato, @leeloughridge, @kedsie, @robwilliams1971, Ollie Masters, and Laurence Campbell. Shop now via our link in bio. From AWA Studios: “Where the best creators do their best work, for you.” If you believe great creativity comes from letting the best creators tell the stories they want to tell, follow AWA Studios on Instagram. #graphicnovels #hitme #thefourthman #oldhaunts #redborder #thriller #crime #truecrime #adventure #originalstories #sundayshopping https://www.instagram.com/p/Cjz_PWkuDZE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#repost#graphicnovels#hitme#thefourthman#oldhaunts#redborder#thriller#crime#truecrime#adventure#originalstories#sundayshopping
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a rain kissedstroll..
past the oldhaunt
reminds me whywe moved
and rekindleswistfulmood.
pixabay
View On WordPress
#abstract#coloursofthesoul#mindfulness#nostalgia#poetry#rhyme#shadow work#spiritual evolution#wistful
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point pleasant park, halifax, september 2021
revisiting old haunts
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idk what ur tag is from n it's probably not this but whenever i see your "over all the land" tag i think of the song by the weather machine! wait omg you can add audio in asks now. this one!!!
ahh that is actually where i got that tag!! such a great song :]
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MUSIC MEME
Status: Accepting
@oldhaunts said: 1 + 8 for leo and 4 + 19 for cynthia !
1. a song I associate with my muse’s personality
Starboy by The Weeknd:
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
Though Leonel’s personality has calmed down somewhat from his younger counterpart, a big part of him still has this godlike complex still going on. It’s not too bad, he’s no Patrick Bateman, but it definitely comes off as cockiness more than confidence at times. Which is why I chose Starboy by The Weeknd. It’s a song that just exudes confidence to me and it even has themes of questioning ones choices to get where they are which is definitely something Leonel has done plenty of times.
8. a song that makes my muse feel nostalgic
When I Think of You by Janet Jackson. It was topping the charts in October 1986 when Smiley, his eldest son, was born and he cant help but connect good memories to it. He remembers being so happy that whole month, feeling like everything was finally coming together, and adoring everything about his new baby boy! The three years that ensued after that were probably the happiest him and Cynthia were in their relationship.
4. a song lyric that describes my muse
6-inch Heels by Beyonce:
She pushing herself day and night
She grinds from Monday to Friday
Works from Friday to Sunday
Oh, stars in her eyes
She fights and she sweats those sleepless nights
But she don't mind, she loves the grind
If you know Cynthia then you know how much of a hard worker she is! I mean, she managed having five kids at home with her while she went to school for nearly 12 years, worked different jobs to save up money, and went through every process that she had to go through to open up her lab. She’s passionate about everything she does.
19. a song that plays while my muse studies/works
Music distracts Cynthia a lot because often she’ll find herself mumbling along with the lyrics or get distracted by tapping on beat and/or repeating lyrics. So, she plays classical music in the background or either soft jazz.
#tysm for the ask ily!!#( ANSWERED ASKS. )#( CYNTHIA ANSWERED ASKS. )#( LEONEL ANSWERED ASKS. )#( CYNTHIA HEADCANONS. )#( LEONEL HEADCANONS. )#oldhaunts#tw long post
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👫 w pickman !!
- at first, dorothy is ... well, she doesn’t know what to think when she finds out about pickman’s sense of justice and methods of implementing it. she’s conflicted, but the reason she finds out is because being as naive as she is on the surface, she almost got into some Big Trouble. one big profile raider put her on his shit list, but pickman took care of it.
- the rules up top are not the same ones that the old world followed. because her clinic is in goodneighbor and she tends to slink around dangerous places for the railroad and such, dororthy keeps her ear to the ground and anyone who needs some justice dispensed... well, she has pickman’s number. she’ll even help him sometimes by serving as bait.
- dorothy goes back to the institute from time to time only for necessities. if she knows they have things the surface needs badly, for example. there is one exception to this rule, and it is flowers. she takes a whole bunch of perennial flowers up to give pickman for his rooftop garden.
- she likes to draw and such, but her art supplies are absolutely not the same as his. she sticks to paper and pencil and likes to draw plants. she’d never show him though, because she doesn’t think they’re any good
#i love them ????#oldhaunts#oldhaunts/pickman#( ooc. ) now loading.#( answered ask. ) new note added.#( hc. ) can’t be bothered by the mistakes she has made.#( arc v. ) hum ani hebraicis: hic est novus / fallout 4 companion.
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∞ :-)
And I'm travelling somewhere new
It's a wonderful world, but still no you
It's a wonderful world for two
-- la de da de da de da de day oh, bill wurtz
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✍ !
For every ✍ I get in my inbox, I will reveal a pet peeve I have about rp. | No longer accepting holy fuck
i see complaints that ocs just don’t get as much love as canon characters and maybe it was true before but now i don’t know where these complaints are coming from and it feels like complaining just for the sake of complaining. i may not have the right impression of the greater rpc though bc the majority of my partners write ocs and i tend to prefer writing with ocs over canon characters (especially if the canons are from big fandoms), so who knows? maybe it’s not just complaining to complain. but i think i can safely make the general statement that the rpc likes to make big deals out of what’s really nothing and i think life would be so much nicer if we just chilled out a little bc sometimes this place is very negative and i only got away from it once i heavily curated who i follow and interact with. people really like to drag personal, ooc, non-problematic drama out to their mutuals and their friends and all over their dash and make things out to be worse than they are instead of dealing with it privately and respectfully.
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Joe wearing a total OldHaunts!Eddie outfit today and Grace’s hair almost back to Chrissy’s color 😭
#hellcheer#eddie x chrissy#eddissy#munningham#chrissy x eddie#hellcheer fanfiction#hellcheer fanfic#old haunts#vq
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@oldhaunts liked for a starter with connor!
“i do not take orders from you.” he feels the need to restate this, though in reality, connor does not take orders from anyone. arguably, one could consider the lieutenant as the primary person in charge, but there are many instances in which the rk800 makes his own decisions against what the man would prefer. that being said, as he is talking to neither hank nor cyberlife, connor is disinclined to adhere to anything the other says. “if this is truly an issue, i would suggest you take it up with the captain.”
#i left it up to you whether it was for gavin or nines#though with nines i may need a teeny bit of plotting bc connor would be dead at that point#m;connor#add to tracker#oldhaunts
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#Repost @awastudiosofficial with @repostsaveapp · · · Our crime thrillers and mysteries are some of our most popular graphic novels, and it’s no wonder with talent like @christafaust, @priscilla_petraites, @marco_lesko, @jasonstarrbooks, @willconradar, @ivannunessp, @mccomseycomics, @mikedeodato, @leeloughridge, @kedsie, @robwilliams1971, Ollie Masters, and Laurence Campbell. Shop now. #sundayshopping #graphicnovels #hitme #thefourthman #oldhaunts #redborder #thriller #crime #truecrime #adventure #originalstories https://www.instagram.com/p/CkqBTDjOdji/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#repost#sundayshopping#graphicnovels#hitme#thefourthman#oldhaunts#redborder#thriller#crime#truecrime#adventure#originalstories
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when you’re not working, every day is the weekend
#NotComplaining
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Nice to be downtown for the last couple of days (even though I don’t get much time outside McCormick place) 🏙 . #chicago #oldhaunts https://www.instagram.com/p/BwPT1ejlOEY/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1qvjqv34cdog0
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#dinningwithdave #oldhaunts (at Charlie's Kitchen) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeEICtnrmPhYxV4LNKHu5j4tSJ9fShqUY5UI700/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Reunited with St. Louis ad community coevals, as we gathered around our friend/colleague Evan Willnow, who’s had some bad breaks lately with his health. Great to see everyone—and I just love going to St. Louis. There’s just so much for a Dad to bore kids about (I was alone in the car, luckily)… the amazing mid-century style of Saarinen’s Arch and how it plays peekaboo as you approach—it’s there it’s gone it’s there it’s gone it’s there… then there’s the Eads Bridge, an engineering marvel worth your time to Google; that humorously stupidly huge Amoco sign grandfathered in at Skinker by Forest Park; and even on the interstate drive there and back there’s just so much, including the Greenup Charleston sign which I take as personal encouragement from someone who’s nicknamed me: “C’mon, Charleston, green up whydoncha!”; the phrase “Foot High Pies” which has been an alluring promise since we moved there and started making this drive regularly: a foot high!; the Cahokia Mound or Mounds (is there just this one?), a Native American site that we stopped by once and stood with cold spring wind in our faces, just like today, and looked back down at I-70 the way those people (you can kind of see them up there) are doing; and our old house, painted a fresher color but pretty much the same—I was worried about that driveway cement wall falling in the 90s but there it is. There it is. #webstergroves #oldhaunts #stlouisarch #stlouis #eerosaarinen #memorylane (at Old Herald Brewery & Distillery) https://www.instagram.com/p/CbT9rQIsdpj/?utm_medium=tumblr
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