WITCH SAFETY 101: HERBS / ESSENTIAL OILS / INCENSE AND PETS

I found a lady statue with an umbrella at Goodwill and want to paint her to look like Lady Dimitrescu to sell on Etsy, but I’ve watched a single playthrough of Resident Evil three years ago and it was Corpse playing so I really don’t remember any of the game itself. Can someone let me know if she has an umbrella please? I see there’s some umbrella symbol/symbolism surrounding her character and I can paint it to look like that, but I’m kind of lost. Any help would be appreciated !

can we like…get rid of the so-called leather and rubber “pride flags” ? it’s honestly ridiculous and offensive to the lgbtq community. those aren’t pride flags. 

Please, spread this for those who might need it right now

U.S. suicide hotline: call or text 988 (available 24 hours)

U.S. trans lifeline: (877) 565-8860 (when you call, you’ll speak to a trans/nonbinary peer operator. full anonymity and confidentiality)

Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) National Helpline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357) – provides 24/7 confidential support and referrals for individuals and families facing mental health and substance use disorders, including panic attacks and anxiety.

LGBT National Help Center: (888) 843-4564

Trevor Project: Call (866) 488-7386, text START to 678-678, or chat online.

Take care of yourself and each other. Please stay safe ♡

Why does being a fan of Eddie Munson have to be some sort of social crime? I cant wear a Hellfire shirt in public without being crazy or odd. No buying shit for bands and older versions of D&D that I didn’t really think about liking till the show reintroduced me to them cause it makes me a poser and a wanna be of someone.

No cosplays or quoting, no sharing my opinion on how I feel the season should have went, no mentioning his name in conversation, and definitely no being inspired by his character to embrace myself and interests.

It is oh so frustrating to know that not only in person in the small town I live in but online people STILL get backlash and hate for enjoying his character. Always grouped with the fans who made some pretty poor choices and that makes us all disgusting or what “ruined” a fandom like not every piece of media has that side. It has been since 2021 and it still doesn’t tire these people out!

Its a character who is shown as an outcast and OFCOURSE it will bring out the “weird” people to be themselves! Its not a crime and definitely doesn’t deserve your constant bullying. No one is hurting you and even then you deal with that one individual not treat everyone in the community the same way. Not knock down their works(art, writing, music, or otherwise) because you disagree! To not welcome people into the rest of the community or allow them to enjoy other pop culture attached is vile.

Interests are how people grow to become their own person! Especially teenagers and young adults whose mental development doesn’t stop till they are 25!!!! NEVER and I mean never treat people like shit because of something they like even as specific as a character! Its not your business or responsibility to make them feel the need to make you comfortable!

If you feel differently that is fine but I wont welcome it on my page especially when I already face the hardship of homophobia and transphobia here already!

END OF STORY!

The symbolism of flowers

Flowers have a long history of symbolism that you can incorporate into your writing to give subtext.

Symbolism varies between cultures and customs, and these particular examples come from Victorian Era Britain. You'll find examples of this symbolism in many well-known novels of the era!

Amaryllis: Pride

Black-eyed Susan: Justice

Bluebell: Humility

Calla Lily: Beauty

Pink Camellia: Longing

Carnations: Female love

Yellow Carnation: Rejection

Clematis: Mental beauty

Columbine: Foolishness

Cyclamen: Resignation

Daffodil: Unrivalled love

Daisy: Innocence, loyalty

Forget-me-not: True love

Gardenia: Secret love

Geranium: Folly, stupidity

Gladiolus: Integrity, strength

Hibiscus: Delicate beauty

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love

Blue Hyacinth: Constancy

Hydrangea: Frigid, heartless

Iris: Faith, trust, wisdom

White Jasmine: Amiability

Lavender: Distrust

Lilac: Joy of youth

White Lily: Purity

Orange Lily: Hatred

Tiger Lily: Wealth, pride

Lily-of-the-valley: Sweetness, humility

Lotus: Enlightenment, rebirth

Magnolia: Nobility

Marigold: Grief, jealousy

Morning Glory: Affection

Nasturtium: Patriotism, conquest

Pansy: Thoughtfulness

Peony: Bashfulness, shame

Poppy: Consolation

Red Rose: Love

Yellow Rose: Jealously, infidelity

Snapdragon: Deception, grace

Sunflower: Adoration

Sweet Willian: Gallantry

Red Tulip: Passion

Violet: Watchfulness, modesty

Yarrow: Everlasting love

Zinnia: Absent, affection

Something about how the Eye’s always been there. About how Jon’s voice starts slow and monotone in the first season, when he still doubts these statements. Something about how, toward the middle of the statement, before the thing happens, he takes a breath where the victim took a breath, where their thoughts stumbled. About how he reads them and laughs when they do, and how his tone changes.

Something about how, in Mag 33, Tim was asking Jon why he classified things under the wrong date, someone’s name was wrong, something was cross-referenced wrong…he Knew all along, and had no idea he did.

Something about how he knew everything since the beginning, he read the statements as if they were his own stories, with fear and questions and scoffs and stutters. Something about how the Eye’s been in him since he worked above the basement.

Something about how Jon would read each statement and give what seemed to be an initial reaction to the content—shock, fear, ‘more spiders’— and then say “I had Martin look into this,” and then explain what they followed the case with, even though this seems to be the first time he’s read it. About how the Eye looked into every case, or set it before any of the gang and had them look into it before Jon could read it.

And now, something about how the computer voice fades. How Jon’s voice is still there, how he’s still real. How he’s real on his own terms, in computers still run by the Eye. How he can’t escape but he’s still listed as “unknown” on his Wiki page. Something about how Jon Simms is still out there and still being human through these wires.

Something about how the Eye’s known and loved Jon, and how the Eye still crinkles when someone tells a lie and how Jon’s still human enough in there to read these statements to everyone, listening or not.

what's up ! non-exhaustive list of stories featuring weird plants :

The Day of the Triffids, John Wyndham

The Night of the Triffids, Simon Clark

In the Tall Grass, Stephen King and Joe Hill

The Boats of the 'Glen Carrig', William Hope Hodgson

The Man Whom the Trees Loved, Algernon Blackwood

The Red Tree, Caitlín R. Kiernan

Annihilation, Jeff VanderMeer

The Willows, Algernon Blackwood

The Nature of Balance, Tim Lebbon

'Bloom', John Langan

The Ruins, Scott Smith

The Wise Friend, Ramsey Campbell

'The Green Man of Freetown', The Envious Nothing : A Collection of Literary Ruins, Curtis M. Lawson

The Beauty, Aliya Whiteley

The Ash-Tree, M.R. James

Canavan's Backyard, J.P. Brennan

Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Jack Finney

The Hollow Places, T. Kingfisher

'Reaching for Ruins', Crow Shine, Alan Baxter

'Vortex of Horror', Gaylord Sabatini

Hothouse, Brian W. Aldiss

Vaster than Empires and More Slow, Ursula K. Le Guin

Odd Attachment, Ian M. Banks

Deathworld #1, Harry Harrison

The Bridge, John Skipp and Craig Spector

'The Garden of Paris', Eric Williams

Apartment Building E, Malachi King

The Seed from the Sepulchre, Clark Ashton Smith

Rappaccini's Daughter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Nursery, Lewis Mallory

The Other Side of the Mountain, Michel Bernanos

The Vegetarian, Han Kang

Sisyphean, Dempow Torishima

The Root Witch, Debra Castaneda

Semiosis, Sue Burke

The Wolf in Winter, Charlie Parker #12, John Connolly

Perennials, Bryce Gibson

Relic, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

Gwen, in Green, Hugh Zachary

The Voice in the Night, William Hope Hodgson

Ordinary Horror, David Searcy

The Family Tree, Sheri S. Tepper

The Book of Koli, Rampart Trilogy #1, M.R. Carey

Seeders, A.J. Colucci

Concrete Jungle, Brett McBean

The Plant, Stephen King

Anthologies/collections :

The Roots of Evil: Weird Stories of Supernatural Plants, edited by Michel Parry

Chlorophobia: An Eco-Horror Anthology, edited by A.R. Ward

Roots of Evil: Beyond the Secret Life of Plants, edited by Carlos Cassaba

The Green Man: Tales from the Mythic Forest, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling

Sylvan Dread: Tales of Pastoral Darkness, Richard Gavin

Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic, edited by Daisy Butcher

Weird Woods: Tales From the Haunted Forests of Britain, edited by John Miller

'But fungi aren't plants' :

The Fungus, Harry Adam Knight

Growing Things and Other Stories, Paul Tremblay

The Girl with All the Gifts, M.R. Carey

Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Fruiting Bodies, and Other Fungi, Brian Lumley

'The Black Mould', The Age of Decayed Futurity, Mark Samuels

What Moves the Dead, T. Kingfisher

The House Without a Summer, DeAnna Knippling

Mungwort, James Noll

Fungi, edited by Orrin Grey and Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Trouble with Lichen, John Wyndham

Notes :

all links lead to the goodreads page of the book, mostly because i like to look at book cover art ;

list features authors/books that i love (T. Kingfisher, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Ursula K. Le Guin, the collections from the British Library Tales of the Weird, etc.), but also a few that i don't like and some that i have not yet read ;

if upon seeing that list the first novel you check out is by Stephen King's you have not understood the assignment ;

not all of those are strictly horror stories, some are 100% science fiction (Brian W. Aldiss' Hothouse for instance).

Nicknames

Summary: All the nicknames your soulmate is called by are written on you. The main character is covered and finally meets the person that’s been covering them in names since they could remember.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, but no y/n. The main character is written in first person.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: No smut, a little homophobia, drug mention if you squint. Kissing!!

Across my skin is littered thousands of words. Some of them were put there by me, little scratches reminding me that there's a test in history tomorrow, to take a shower tonight. There are tattoos there, hidden under the crude words: marks of stars and little planets. They’re covered now.

For most of my life, my skin was blank. There were just a few names, all versions of the same, larger one: Eddie.

Then, as I got into middle school- when I'm sure his skin began to fill with "bitch," and "liar," and worse- my skin began to overflow. They started out in simple scribbles, teasing words from friendly mouths, but the fonts began to get harsh. The letters were pointed, not intricate, not rolling. The letters practically burned as the words "druggie, disappointing, freak, fag" appeared on my pale arms.

There's no way to cover them anymore. I could wear long sleeves, but it's not classy. My parents are disappointed, even though I have no say, no control. I haven't even met him.

"Charismatic, charming. Fag, freak, insane."

I showed them off. I hoped he did too.

It was summer. The air was hot and sticky, it clung to my clothes and my hair. I brushed the loose strands from my face and smiled into the mirror. Under my hair was a new mark. My body was almost full, but the words overlapped where they could. This one was decent, at least.

"Eds."

I took my keys from the counter and left. I didn't have a plan, but I didn't think I needed one. I just needed out.

So I drove. I drove from my small town into the next, smaller town. Hawkins wasn't interesting in the slightest, but I needed something to do. And we didn't have a radioshack. What town didn't have a Radioshack in 1986? Mine.

The car's engine groaned as I pulled into the parking lot of the store. The open sign beamed at me. No friendly words greeted me like they had a year or two ago, when Bob Newby still worked here. I'd heard rumors, but I just assumed he'd escaped small-town life. I would take what I could get with the high schooler at the counter.

I got what I needed and left, but I decided I would stop at the comic store next door. I wasn't interested in reading comics, but I didn't want to get back into the car and drive back home so soon.

I flipped through volumes of Xmen, thinking I might get a coffee afterward.

The door opened, the bell rang. I didn't look up.

Next to me appeared a kid with a bowl cut, towering over me as he watched me flip through the books. I kept going, thinking he might stop me when he found what he wanted.

He found something else instead.

"No way," he whispered. He took my wrist and flipped it up. I turned toward him, hoping this kid, probably too young for me, wasn't the freak that littered my skin. He didn't look like it, but I supposed any small town kid could be called horrible things. "No fucking way."

"What?" I asked. He still hadn't looked at me, just at the scribbled words along my arms.

"I know Eddie."

"This one?" I looked back down at my arm.

"What other one?" He looked at my face and his eyes went wide at the word above my eyes. "That's awesome." I shrugged as he shook his head. "We have a club, it's called Hellfire. Meet us at the high school at six, okay?"

"Kid, I don't even live here. I'm in the next town over." I jutted my thumb in its general direction. "I gotta be home."

"Doesn't this matter more?"

I didn't think it did, but I supposed he was right. I had been waiting my whole life to meet the Freak that left so many marks on me, and I finally had a halfway decent opportunity to do so now. I also didn't know how this could go wrong.

"Okay. I'll be there."

"Great. God, this is so funny. Your entire body is covered."

"What about you?" I asked him defensively. I had gotten used to being stared at a long time ago, but I only just started to learn how to bite back.

He didn't flip his arm around. He didn't show me the names coating his wrists, he just blushed instead.

That could mean a million things. Either the ink is faded, they met and they weren't right, they were too young, whatever else.

He turned back to the comics and continued going through the box I just had. I checked my watch; 4:15. I sighed and went to the other side of the store.

Whether the kid knew it or not, he found himself next to me again. "When did they start showing up?" He asked.

"When I was in middle school. They got really bad around there too." I told him.

"Huh." He was biting back laughter, and I could tell.

I ignored him. It wasn't in my best interest to talk to a child. I bought a stuffed animal that I didn't need, but I felt bad for spending too much time in a store without leaving with something. I watched the boy set down his stack of comics, catching a few sprawling words on his wrist. They were harsh, blurred, hazy. One stuck out- the name Will- before he flipped his wrist back over.

"Six tonight!" He yelled after me. I shut the door.

I smelled like popcorn and coffee. I looked like a mess, but I didn't think it mattered.

I've been planning a moment like this all my life. Every kid has since they could read, the fantasies getting more vivid as they got older. For me, I've imagined everything from accidental meetings to set-ups, roses falling from the skies, kisses in the rain. When the words started appearing more often, all that was shattered. I thought I would accidentally stumble upon the right homeless person, pay the wrong employee too much, call the wrong person whatever my mind came up with when it left my mouth.

The fantasies faded a while ago. It wasn't always on my mind like it was on some of my girl friends', their intricate stories and plans drained me. It was absent enough for me not to think about it now.

I stood against my car door, the chocolate drink making my hand cold and wet. I wiped it on my jeans. Was I nervous? I took another sip. I didn't think so.

A van pulled into the parking lot at a wild pace, then slammed to a stop across three parking spaces. A few kids on bikes rounded the corner of the brick school. Leading their party was the kid I met at the comic store.

He stopped in front of the doors to the school, then turned to the van. Out of the backseats came two boys that looked to be older than me. They rocked plaid and ripped jeans, holding boxes and dice between their fingers.

Then, out of the driver's seat, came a man with longer hair than anyone's I had seen. His fingers were covered in silver rings, his jacket was ripped and sewed with black string around a few names on both his wrists. His boots echoed on the blacktop as he joined his friends, the chains on his thighs jingling.

"Eddie, holy shit." The boy said. He was looking at me. I supposed I should walk up there now, and maybe actually talk to them.

"What?" He deadpanned, none of the kid's excitement catching on.

"I met someone," he said, already quivering. He nodded toward me.

And everyone turned toward me. At the same time.

I didn't take a step back. I wanted to, but I stayed put.

"Holy shit!" One of the younger boys shouted.

Eddie came toward me then, his eyes glued to my arms, covered in his name, among other things. "Look at you," he cooed. I almost blushed, but I didn't let it happen. I just took another sip of my drink.

He took my wrist, the one not holding the coffee, and read over the names.

He held his out to me.

It said my name. That was all I needed, but I read on. With each word came a story in my head of the cause, but there weren't many to think of.

"Is that…?" The kid asked. Eddie took my hand and turned back to the boys.

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came.

"It was me! I found them! I did it!" The kid said. His eyes darted from his friends' faces to mine, to Eddie's. None of them were quite as excited as he was. They all seemed shocked.

"I'm ditching Hellfire tonight." Eddie said. The boys threw their protests, but he raised his free hand and they hushed. "We have catching up to do."

He started walking first, though I wanted to. I didn't know this town, but I could see the woods behind the school. They looked much more inviting than this dirty parking lot. He started leading me to them anyway.

"Use protection, Eddie!" One of them called after us. He turned and looked back at the boys, and they all put their heads down.

Once we were out of earshot, he strided in front of me and turned around. I stopped in time, not spilling my coffee over him like I thought I might.

"Hello," he said. He put his free hand over his heart, still holding mine with his other. "I'm Eddie." He said.

I laughed at him, at this entire situation. I introduced myself in the same way, adding a little curtsey at the end. He smiled.

"Mike is never going to let that go, you know." Before I could ask, he continued. "Meeting you before I could."

"He should have called you."

"Nah, everyone told me. You're the kid that's covered," he traced my wrist, "that comes a few times a month and only goes to Radioshack."

"And you knew that was me, how?"

"Freak," he traced a word. "Loser, insane." He dropped his voice. "Fag. I really am sorry for all that. I wish it were different."

I only just met him, but I could tell there wasn't much sincerity in his voice. He was sorry, but not about the words. Just the amount of them.

Then he reached up and brushed my hair away from the one on my face, the ones on my neck.

And he smiled at them.

"You don't hide them?" He asked me. He seemed genuinely curious, like he expected me to.

"No. It shouldn't matter."

"It does, though."

"What, the names?"

"No, not the lies. The person." He backed up a bit, then gestured at himself up and down. "Are you tellin' me I don't matter?" He beamed.

"I dunno, we've only known each other for a few minutes. I'll decide if you matter after the first date."

He hummed. "I'll go out with you. But you're lying, we've known each other all our lives. I know you're a liar," he pointed at the word on his skin, "I know you're a bitch," another word, "and I know your name, and I know you're a loser too. You know me fairly well." He ran his fingers along my forearm.

"I don't think I do." I admitted. And it was true. The man standing before me was not a freak, he didn't seem like a loser or a druggie. He seemed different, but in a way that made me feel safe.

He didn't say anything after that. I couldn't imagine he was a quiet person, but he was silent now.

"I was right, though. I thought you might show off these words too." I pointed at my skin. "That you would own them like me."

"I try, my love. I try."

The word "love" painted itself across his cheek.

I took a step back, accidentally pulling him with me. It really was true, I guessed it just hit me then. I stared at the word, written in a font that never dared touch my skin. Things written like that belonged under wedding bands, across hearts, on gravestones. Not on a freak's face.

He touched it. He must have felt my laser focus on that spot. He hummed again. "It's true, darling."

"Darling" appeared on his other wrist. He smiled and opened his mouth to say another one, but I stopped him.

"How about that date?"

"That sounds amazing."

I drove him to dinner at the least fancy, cheapest restaurant he directed me to. We needed loud music and good food, not shitty piano and candles. We talked about the words etched into our skin, but we began talking about much better things once the easy questions were out of the way. I told him about my parents, my friends at home. That none of them would be excited to know I met the Eddie, that I spent my evening with him, that I was breaking my almost non-existent curfew.

He told me about his parents too, about his life here in the smallest town known to mankind. He told me about the tragedies in this town, about the loss it's endured. I told him I knew, but only about the conspiracies. He told me of his strange friends and their strange tales, of his club and his hobbies.

I listened to him with more attention than I've given anything in a long time. I told him that too, I felt like he deserved to know. I didn't have much of anything going on to focus on, so that would leave me more time to call him whenever and hang out. He seemed stuck on the part that I was actually listening to him, and it wasn't in the setting of his club, and my gaze wasn't harsh and my words scalding. I thought it might have been nice for him to be listened to like this, where he wasn't judged. But I reminded myself that he didn't care about the words on my skin as much as I didn't.

We went back to my car. He told me how to get back to the school, and I followed.

I parked my car across another set of three parking spaces. He got out, and I followed. I didn't know why, but it felt like the right thing to do. I closed the door and pocketed the keys, standing against the car.

He came around to my side, then stopped in front of me.

"Thank you for tonight." He said. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles, but didn't drop it.

"Anytime, literally. I'm always bored."

"Were you bored tonight?"

"Not at all." And for once, I wasn't lying. It wasn't like my mom's stupid dinner parties where I had to lie to get by. I finally felt like I could tell someone the truth.

"That's good. I would hate for my soulmate to be bored on our first date." He hummed. His eyes were glued on mine. "Do you want to go out again?"

"Yes." I didn't think. I just said it. "Yes."

"Great. This time, I'm coming to your strange town."

"You're not meeting my parents."

"Not yet," he added. "I can prove them wrong." I looked him up and down as he finished, then met his eyes again. "Okay, maybe not. But I'm funny." He added.

"I guess that's true. They're not funny people, though."

"Then I'm charming." He ran his thumb over that word.

"Maybe…"

"Then I'm hot."

"They're my parents."

"Then… I'm charismatic."

"You're helpless." The word printed itself on my back. I could feel the tingle of a new word, the whispers of it more familiar than most things.

"And you're beautiful."

Another word appeared on his wrist.

"We're not doing this again." I said.

"Fine, fine. But I'm not letting you go home without a kiss."

My heart skipped a beat. I physically felt it do so in my chest, the butterflies flowing down to my knees.

"You can't just say that," I giggled.

"Why not? I'm a flirt." That word was not on my skin. I shook my head. "I'm straightforward." Neither was that one. I shook my head again. "I'm truthful? I'm quick? I'm… thoughtful, I'm reflective-"

I shut him up. I kissed him once, something like what I might give to my mom on her cheek before she goes to bed. I tried to show him he wasn't any of those things, but that he could be.

It didn't have the maybe-I-care, maybe-I-don't effect on him. He took a second to stare at me in shock before he kissed me this time, softer than I had. He broke apart, but that didn't last.

Before I even realized that time passed, his hand found my hair and we were making out against my car. I never imagined us here, in the parking lot of a high school both of us were too old for after a cheap dinner in an unfamiliar town. I never imagined my soulmate to actually be the weirdo my skin told me he was.

I thought that he might be able to be my freak.

He broke us apart to breathe, finally. "You're-" he kissed me again, "so-" and again, "pretty."

The word appeared down his arm.

He smiled against my lips and I knew that his skin would soon be covered in pet names, in words he would whisper against my skin, compliments and slurred words alike.

I think I liked that idea.

Or alternatively, where the main character lives in Hawkins:

My skin is covered in names before I'm even in sixth grade. Some of them are words I had to find dictionaries to understand, just a bit too advanced for me. They were horrible words with even worse meanings, the fonts as harsh and unforgiving as the people who shouted them.

His name was Eddie. And I had heard of an Eddie before, in whispers around the school hall. It was a name that was never said too loud, especially when they saw me around.

It grew harder not to see me. The black lettering was everywhere on me, and had begun to overlap when I made it to high school.

I didn't cover the words up. I didn't use concealer like the girls did to etch out my soulmate into the person I thought he should be. I didn't fear the freak, I was intrigued.

It was the first day of my freshman year. I sat alone, most people did. Around the room, I tried to determine the age of the people by how tired they were, by how many people sat around them, and by how big their backpack was. It wasn't a great pastime, but it made me less of a loser than the kids in the corner reading their textbooks.

In the corner, I saw a group of boys. They wore plaid and denim, the colors clashing with each other. Their heads were together in some conversation, but someone came over and dumped their milk onto a plate of the tallest one, who immediately turned to face the freshman who caused the mess.

The boy muttered "fag." The word burned itself into my forearm. I didn't look down to see if it was true, but I watched the little freshman put his head down. He looked scared, almost. Then he ran away.

The freak looked around the room for another attacker, but his eyes landed on me instead. He said something to his friends, then they all turned toward me.

I wanted to look back down at my sad school lunch, to disappear into the dirty floor. But that didn't happen before the three boys sat in front of me.

Their eyes almost burned as they looked at my skin.

"Hello," Eddie said.

"Hi," I managed to say.

One of the boys took my wrist and flipped it. They all read his name printed there, along with all the other things on top of it.

"Easy," Eddie said, "they're my soulmate." He whispered. He caught the attention of a few people around us, but they all went back to their food. "You are, right?"

"Obviously," the boys said at the same time. I winced.

"Oh, no need for that. I'm used to it." He told me. I nodded. "I'm Eddie," he said. He held out a hand, covered in silver rings.

I shook it.

And from then on we were Hawkins High's infamous couple. The Freak and his Whiteboard. The first year was rough, there were more names on his skin than on mine. It began to even out in the second year. People were still jealous that we had met, and they hadn't met their "whore" soulmate or whatever their skin told them. I figured out in our third year that they were freaked out by how coated my skin was with names, but I loved them from the beginning.

The names used to tingle when they were put into my skin. I winced every time, and people called him more names to hurt me when they took notice. Every day after school, he would kiss each one to take the pain away, to put more feeling into the words than what they were said with. The horrible taunting became something for me to look forward to, and I think that freaked them out even more.

His friends liked me, and they caught on with our scheme. They teased Eddie, but for my sake. I thanked them, but bullied them back in hopes their soulmates' skin might look like mine. All at my own doing.

So the boy who made my skin almost dark with names followed me around with his sprinkling of teasing for the rest of high school, and well into the rest of our lives.

I’m not even sorry, this is my fave season 🎃