#scoopingtm

meme // @scoopingtm ( && @creamingtm by extension )

      ❝ Hey-- hey, hi-- ❞ He was out of breath as he skidded to a stop next to her. Marty took a moment to slow his breathing before asking, ❝ Hey, ah-- ah, you haven't seen a-- a sheepdog around here have you? Answers to Einstein. I don't know how he got out of the car. I gotta-- I mean-- have you seen him? ❞

star!! i’m still just getting to know them, but from the interaction we’ve had so far, i really love them and their blog. i enjoy their portrayal of robin and everything that’s gone into it, and how kind and wonderful they are ooc. when everything was getting really stressful in this fandom, they made an entire server dedicated to positivity and i’m so thankful for it. i truly hope that in the near future, we get to write all the things between nancy and robin, because i desperately need them!

        ❛    honestly ?   i  never  really  thought  about  my  lack  of  a  “typical  lifeguard  tan”  until  somebody  mentioned  it.    ❜   it  was  ironic  considering  she  was  outdoors  for  most  of  the  sun  hours,  but  she  was  under  the  umbrella  of  the  lifeguard  chair  half  the  time,  too.   ❛    and  no,  before  you  ask,  we  don’t  put  sunscreen  on  our  noses.    ❜

sometimes,  as much as he doesn’t like to admit it,  this is all too much.   there is only so much a man can take.   a person can handle in one life time.   he wants it to stop.   for there to just be…   a calm.   a quiet.   a moment in which he’s not fighting against something from the upside down.   from the other side.   not having to deal with demogorgons,  or men that run labs that experiment on children,  or russian’s that think there’s a fucking difference between cherry and strawberry slurpees.   then,  after that,  there had been more demogorgons.   there had been cages,  and teeth pressing into his shoulder so hard that on some nights,  hopper still can’t get feeling all the way down to his fingers.   he doesn’t know how he’s alive.   by all accounts,  he shouldn’t be alive.   most nights,  he can’t say that he wants to be either.   he didn’t hear her wake up.   didn’t hear the door open,  but he’s sat on the porch,  tears in his eyes and the moon shining in the sky.   he wants it all to end.   but he’s got too much responsibility;   el,  robin,  now.   kids he’s taken into his home,  as much of a fucking wreck he is.   he needs the company too,  as selfish as that is.   he needs to be there for them all.   the touch to his shoulder startles him,  and hopper’s wiping his face before looking up.     “hey,  kid,”     his voice is raw.   his throat hurts.   he didn’t think he’d be found here.     “can’t sleep?”