Absolutely Sobbing Dramatically Over This It’s So Well Done And Encompasses Their Relationship It’s

fractionally surprised I haven’t seen any ‘lurch is kind of ….. 😏’ posts

Spiffed up art of mine

My instagram is at the top if ya want to check it out

am i a dumby for animating this

obviosly

but i did it anyway and if i didnt do it who would

gotta reblog this because

1- its fuckin amazing

2- i need to draw this its not a want its a need

Bandanna anon back again, different thought this time. Ok so Eddie lives (obviously, why wouldn’t he?) but he has to go to the hospital where they shave his head in order to give him stitches and just Eddie with a buzz cut 😌 convincing Eddie you still love him without his hair 😊 Eddie growing it out and having these little ringlets that you fight him to not tease out 😍 Eddie’s hair growing back as a reminder of him healing 🥰

bandana anon i love youuuu *mluah* 😛

as a traumatized and healing bitch i love this. i 👏🏻 love 👏🏻 this 👏🏻

eddie x hopper!reader bc parallels 🥺

Your father is up before anyone else in the house, as always. You roll out of bed to find him at the kitchen table, reading the day's newspaper and nursing his second cup of coffee. Instead of saying good morning, he just grunts at you.

"How's he doing?" he asks as you help yourself to what's left in the pot.

It's an odd question, coming from him.

Jim Hopper had always hated the "him" he was referring to - the scruffy miscreant who he'd busted multiple times for vandalism, petty theft, public intoxication, possession...

He hated him even more when he found out his eldest child had fallen hard for him.

Even more when the way he found out was walking into your room one evening after he'd snuck in, finding the boy in a precarious position between your legs.

But since the earthquake, he'd softened. He saw the way Eddie looked at you, the way he risked his life to protect you, and suddenly a criminal history didn't matter as much.

He was troubled, sure. But he was good to you. He made you happy. And that was enough for Jim.

"He's okay," you reply. "Nightmares again last night. Couldn't sleep."

Your dad hums, sympathetic.

"Those'll stick around for a while."

As if on cue, the man in question emerges from your bedroom, looking as ragged and sleep deprived as he feels. He wears a gray beanie over his newly shaven head, hiding the ugly gash that lies beneath. He doesn't meet your eye, popping a cigarette into his mouth and slipping onto the back porch. You sigh.

"Still upset over his hair, huh?" Jim comments.

"Yeah," you confirm. "It, um... It reminds him of his dad, I think. How he used to make him shave it."

Your father is also familiar with the elder Munson, the crime that got him thrown into prison with a life sentence. More so with the abuse he used to inflict upon his son, since he was the one who answered many of those calls.

"Munson was a scumbag," Jim grumbles. "Hard to believe a kid as good as Eddie came from him."

You smile at the compliment, which your dad shares over the edge of his paper, pursing his lips together to try and hide it. Coffee in hand, you open the back door and join Eddie, sinking down beside him on the porch steps.

"Mornin', angel," he greets you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, keeping you warm against the spring chill. In the distance, what remains of downtown Hawkins smolders, sending ribbons of black smoke into the clear blue sky.

"How's your head doing today?" you ask.

He doesn't answer, opting instead to take a long drag of his cigarette.

"... You've gotta show me at some point."

Eddie huffs, flicking ash into the tray your father keeps on the back porch.

"You don't wanna see it," he mumbles. " 's pretty bad."

"So are the ones on your neck," you remind him. "But you let me kiss those."

He side eyes you, and you can tell he's trying to argue the sense you somehow manage to talk into him. You were the one who dragged him back through the portal when he tried to be a hero, after all.

"... You're not gonna like it," he finally admits. "I'm not... I'm not me anymore."

"You still eat Froot Loops for dinner," you contest. "That's pretty you."

He tries to fight the laugh that bubbles in his chest, the resulting smile warming your heart with just how genuine it is. You haven't seen him smile like that in far too long.

"I'm just worried you're not... You're like, serially into guys with long hair," he continues. "My hair was what got you to notice me in the first place. What if... What if you're not... What if I'm not attractive to you anymore?"

You sit up, taking his face in your hands; almost a little too aggressively, because he flinches the slightest bit in surprise.

"Eddie," you say. "Do you know what the sexiest thing about you is?"

He stares at you blankly.

"That stupid demon voice you do when you're playing a villain in a campaign," you tell him. "The over the top, snarly, borderline feral voice that comes out of you when you get really into it. It's ridiculous. And I'd be lying to you if I told you I didn't cum so hard the couple times it's come out during sex."

Eddie's eyes pop, mortified.

"I've used it during sex?"

You laugh, nodding as you lean forward to peck his lips.

"Yes. But my point is that you're goofy, and dramatic, and clever, and sweet, and so shamelessly you that this-" you pat the beanie covering his head "- doesn't matter to me. What matters is that you're safe. That you're still with me."

Eddie raises a hand to your cheek, gently running his thumb over the high point of the bone. He gazes lovingly, dreamily down at you, a bemused smile curling his lips.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs.

"You deserve me more than anyone."

---

"Stop."

You lift the comb out of Eddie's hand, kissing him on the cheek as you do.

"They're cute. Leave them."

He tsks, snatching the comb back up when you set it on the bathroom counter, resuming the process of teasing out the ringlets his hair has started to grow into.

"It looks better longer," he growls, frustrated. "I hate my fuckin' hair."

"Can I have help?"

El appears in the doorway, holding her own set of styling tools. Her hair has also grown out quite a bit, now at the awkward length where it has to be styled every day or else look totally unpresentable. You gesture her inside, perching on the closed lid of the toilet as she sits on the floor in front of you, letting you work your older sibling magic. In a matter of minutes, her locks have been tamed; she bounds up to the mirror beside Eddie to inspect your work.

"It's coming back," she notices, looking up at him. "Your scar is almost gone."

He hums, running a contemplative finger over the raised, darkened bit of flesh peeking from his hairline. The scar runs all the way around his skull, down the back of his neck, but it's disappeared under the nest of dark brown curls that have grown in since his stint in the hospital.

He grins at her in the mirror, pointing to her wrist.

"So's yours," he notes, indicating her tattoo. "Ink's fading."

El smiles back, positively beaming. Her hand lifts to trace the bats etched above his elbow, a habit she's picked up in the months since Eddie moved in. She loves him like a brother. It makes your heart want to explode.

"I like your hair like this," she admits. "You look better than before. You're healing."

Eddie pauses, his face crumpling like he's about to start sobbing. You hide your smile behind your hand as he takes a deep breath, regaining his composure, then takes one of El's own curls between two fingers, pulling and releasing so it bounces like a spring. She giggles at him, playfully smacking his hand away.

"You're lookin' better too, short stack," he says. "Guess we're both gonna be okay."

Statement ends. long sigh. Another vampire statement. At least this one was a little more... unconventional, though, given the way it appears to have been written, I, ah, do not know whether to count this as a blessing or a curse, as it were. We will have to do more digging into the statement giver, this "Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way",

“She knew that one day, when she was a very old woman, she would dream this dream for the last time, and in this last dream of all she would see the little white horse and he would not go away from her. He would come towards her, and she would run towards him, and he would carry her upon his back away and away, she did not quite know where, but to a good place, a place where she wanted to be.”

- The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge

A shout out to all the writers out there who don’t make the rec lists or have all the buzz or get all the traffic and attention or kudos. Your work is still valuable and appreciated and loved, and without you and your fics, fandom would be so much poorer.

Keep on writing and creating and sharing your works. You have an audience who loves you.

You too can look like this happy smiling couple who is not at all traumatized by their stay at Castle Dracula with this shirt I designed many months ago and definitely did not forget that we're selling

You/reader: this is heaven, pure heaven.

Sukuna: what do you think you’re doing, pest.

You/reader: *nuzzling his massive tits* I’m in heaven, big…soft…tattooed tits that I’ll happily die in.

Sukuna: okay that’s enough out of you *picks you up by the collar of your shirt and puts you in the corner of the room*

You/reader; NO! I will not go to jail for my crimes! On what charges?! Liking big fat juicy tits?! This is blasphemy!

Sukuna: …

I need someone to write a fic for Eddie about the reader introducing him to the last unicorn who is in utter shock and disgraced that he hadn’t seen it because it’s their favorite

THE LAST UNICORN (1982, Jules Bass and Arthur Rankin Jr.)