#I’m not going to fucking relapse over some man

[faetalks]

I’m not doing well lmao. genuinely feel like I’m surviving off of spite rn. the only reason I’m not doing worse is bc I feel like it’s pathetic to be so upset over such small things. I feel like my therapist isn’t understanding how I’m feeling, it feels more like ‘it’s like that sometimes!’ rather than ‘

idk. what do I actually want her to say lmao. if I told her I want to hurt myself- even though I’m not going to bc I think it’s stupid- she’d probably have to Do Something Drastic about it. do I want to be medicated??? see I’m afraid to be too explicit w her bc I don’t want to be fucking institutionalized but I also don’t want to worry my friends. so instead I’m just constantly miserable and wishing I was dead even though I Know I don’t really want to die.

[forbidden-sin-bin]

Sex and Filthy Smut headcanons

(Eminem x F!Reader Hc’s and drabbles)

Rated: E for explicit… no wait, this needs an X rating for possibly being the filthiest thing I’m gonna write in my life. God save my soul (probably not but hey at least I asked)

Warnings: I mean… look at the title. Need I say more??? Smut. Sex. Lovemaking, Intercourse. Whatever the hell you wanna call it. The whole 10 yards is here. It’s porn, not gonna lie at all.

Tags/Keywords: Smut, Heavy Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fluff, fluff and smut, Pre-established relationship, Sexual Content, Kink, Overstimulation, Dom/Sub, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Giving/Receiving, Healthy Relationships, Feel Good, Everything sinful under the sun is found here, Author is going to hell, anyone who reads this is coming with me

A/N: Yes yes, ain’t no fuckbuddies or friends with benefits headcanons here, sue me. There is NO angst or sadness here. None, zero, zilch. Those kinds of relationships almost NEVER end well 98% of the time. This is all about you and him ONLY. Give it up for romance y’all.

Not gonna lie, there might've been more I wanted to add to this hellfire list of headcanons but once you've seen how much stuff there is below I hope you'll forgive me for finally putting this out here.

I hope by reading this, will provide you with comfort and satisfaction.

VERY special thanks to @smutty-books for beta reading and feedback along with helping me with this monster of a list! Please check them out and show them some love! (Seriously thank you Smutty for the additional ideas and content. you made this Hc's list a million times better and twice as much content included.)

(WARNING: Past this point is VERY EXPLICIT CONTENT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.)

General HC's:

Oh boy. Oh boy oh boy ohhhhhh boy.

You want sum fuk? You got sum fuk and way more.

As long as you’re his s/o, congrats on your sex life being absolutely demolished and rebuilt by this man. You’ll probably never find a better person in the bedroom for the rest of your life. It literally doesn’t matter if he’s your boyfriend or your husband, sex is a staple activity in your relationship that you both enjoy.

Fast and rough? Slow and steady? Maybe a little bit of both? You bet he’ll be saying fuck yeah to all of those.

His sex drive has always been relatively quite high, even after all these years. Being 50 and counting ain’t gonna stop him anytime soon.

Can, and will, want to fuck you on any and every surface of the house.

Living room couch? Perfect spot for bouncing in his lap or to blow him hard.

Dining room table? He’ll have you either bent over and railing you from behind or sitting on top while he devours your dripping wet pussy.

Taking a shower? You’ll be saving water if you do it together… yeah. Definitely not because of at least a half dozen things you can do in there with soothing hot water pouring down your bodies.

In the studio?…

Okay maybe not the studio he’s gotta work without getting distracted and lord save you two if anyone finds a sliver of evidence that you two fucked in there-

Not a PDA guy much, which also extends to any sexual antics outside. He won’t be taking any risks getting the two of you caught lacking

As long as you two are in the house, it’s free game

His views and methods of sex vary depending on which era we’re talking about

If he were in his 1999’s/2000’s era, then yeah, absolute horndog. He’s constantly so busy and on the move, sex would be a quick trip and onto the next. It would’ve scratched the itch, but arguably wouldn’t have sated his appetite for long. If he ever had a chance to have a good, drawn out sex session, it’ll leave him looking like he had a serious hangover but he’ll be waking up so relaxed.

Him being quick to fuck around and quick to leave was his style pre-Relapse. It’s a common thing you see around music artists in general and he was no exception. That doesn’t mean he was closed off to finding an actual solid relationship, it just becomes that much harder to find someone genuine. Most of the time though, he was busy putting out albums and producing music with a 9 to 5 regimen.

Post-Relapse/Recovery Em had insane stamina due to the excessive amount of exercise he put in. Call me insane, but I have a feeling this may be the time where he had the least amount of sex drive-

NOW HOLD ON HEAR ME OUT

He was starting out his sobriety around this time, I’m no expert but I would have to think that he hasn’t fucked or hooked up with anyone since then cause sex may have been a risk or his body was recovering, therefore most likely putting sex as a low priority. That isn’t to say he wasn’t busting a nut oh no, he probably became best friends with his hands again.

The time between Rap God/Monster Era was slowly building back up his drive, transitioning him to the Revival/Present Day era where he’s back on his blue-balling bullshit. Mans been practically putting out mating calls in his music and in interviews I mean COME ON HAVE YOU SEEN IT

He’s wise enough to not be caught slipping with hoes cause he won’t be caught with those hoes. At all. He’s not a hoe fucker no more. You heard him.

Finding an actual healthy relationship with one person? Someone give it to him, now.

(Anyone who remembers that one shot in that Rainy Days behind the scenes video where he points the camera to his crotch and says “EVERYTHING is for sale.” If that isn’t a man in heat I dunno what is; And that’s just one example out of many lemme tell you)

THE POINT IS, HE CAN GO FOR ONE ROUND, OR MANY, MANY MORE.

He’s determined to make you feel good more than him, but he’ll absolutely be having fun with how you’re gonna come. He’ll love exploring your body, finding out every little spot that gives you shivers down your spine.

Oh yeah, did I mention that he's got a big dick? He's got a big dick.

Don't try to deny it when you can't help but glance at his crotch all the time. It might be bias, or it might be fact that you can see the bulge in his pants.

Dom/Sub Roles:

He’s a dom, no question about that. Most of the time he’s a soft dom, not overwhelmingly asserting himself over you but firm enough to have you listen to him. Of course, he’ll be praising you a ton if you’re doing good and listening. But if you’re acting a little bratty, a little petty… yeah, he’ll make you behave, let’s just leave it at that.

Enjoys having you bent over his knee while he fingers your pussy, making sure you’re all nice and ready for him to enjoy.

If you squirm too much, expect a light spanking and a firm reminder to behave.

Again, not over the top with his dominance, cause at the end of the day, he wants to take care of you, to make you feel comfortable and show you how much he loves you. So praising isn’t just a dom thing, it’s genuinely how he expresses his affection to you.

If you insist on it, he can go even harder as a dom, upping his antics and getting off on seeing you beg for relief. Punishments will be even meaner and if you slip up even just a little, looks like you’re gonna have to start all over. No amount of pleading, teary whines from you will get him to change the cold, hard look in his eyes as he’s watching you.

Absolutely insistent on a safe word, no matter the situation.

Marshall’s immediately shifting to a protective, nurturing caretaker the moment your safe word leaves your lips and making sure your needs are met, completely understanding and shushing any apologies that threaten to leave your mouth for ruining the moment. You come first and foremost.

Amazing with aftercare. Will make sure that you’re okay and well taken care of after a session, praising you lovingly as he holds you close. If it was particularly intense, he’ll be checking in on you for the next day or so whilst feeling quite proud of himself that he can reduce you to a begging, dripping mess yesterday night. But he's by far more proud of you for trusting him and letting him experience you in such a vulnerable position.

All it takes is for him to say: "Such a good girl" and you're all his. (Can't blame you honestly-)

He'll be using your petnames even outside of your passionate sessions, even if it's just coming home to greet you after a day of work or passing by each other in the house to do something, a quick: "Hey peaches" or "How's my babygirl?" never fails to want to leave you smiling shyly, even after a bad day.

While being a sub is not what he would usually do at all, it’s not impossible. Once he’s far into a relationship with you and fully comfortable, he might actually give in to your insistence.

He has a need to feel like he’s in control, like he’s leading; Being on the opposite end is a big deal for him, so if he ever subs it’s a huge fucking compliment and privilege that shows how much he trusts and loves you to bare himself to you.

He’ll definitely be grumbly about it tho, and probably trying to act all teasing at your attempt to dominate him. But once you get past that first phase and he lets himself relax and give into your control… he doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels so fucking secure with you.

When he fully gives in, he’s preening and leaning into your touch. He’ll be such a good boy under your lavish praise and having all of your attention on him.

It feels almost foreign, not being the one in charge and making all the decisions for once. But once he gets used to it, he'll be doing whatever he can to receive your approval.

Seeing him at your mercy, letting you take the reins, makes it your priority to see him come undone by your command, holy shit, it's fucking beautiful.

If he's up for being a little more bratty (not unlike he's been on his petty shit for decades as his core personality trait let's be real here) and expecting to be punished and/or your dominance be harsher, the thought of pushing you to your limits with how much you're willing to keep up with him makes him really, really excited on the inside.

It’s both of your secrets, so don’t fuck it up, a'ight?

Teasing/Body Parts:

Speaking of secrets… he’s incredibly private, but at the same time, don’t be surprised if he ends up writing lyrics that may or may not allude or be inspired by your sex lives. You swear this man will be the death of you, smug bastard.

If you’re ever turned on by listening to his music or his voice, it’ll be such a massive ego boost for him, holy shit. No need to feel embarrassed, cause he’s fucking flattered.

Even tho his residence is far from any neighbors (and definitely soundproof), he’s got a playlist for your ears to get aroused to.

Imagine Marshall whispering in your ear or talking in that low voice of his and well damn now you’re horny is an understatement of the goddamn century.

And it’s not just you! Marshall gets off hearing you moan like crazy, another sign that lets him know he’s doing a damn good job. Hearing you whimpering gets him going, but making you scream? Jackpot.

Unsurprisingly to a lot of y’all, but he loves tits. He loves ass for sure, but feeling your breasts is just- Yes.

Love fondling them, licking, biting, sucking, you name it.

Now do the same for him-

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN’S PECS

MAN’S GOT HUGE FUCKING HONKERS. HOLY SHIT.

(No wonder he’s such a titty guy-)

But seriously, play with his chest and he’ll be moaning and writhing under you. Music to your ears.

Rest assured your ass will not be forgotten or neglected. No fucking way he’ll ever leave any part of you un-worshipped. Even when you’re just passing each other around the house he’ll playfully slap or squeeze your ass with a smirk. Cheeky fucker.

May or may not prompt him to just throw you down and pin you against whatever furniture is closest and have his way with you right then and there.

Or it could be the other way around! You can't help but give his sexy behind a mischievous swat or grab, or his pecs. He'll probably pretend to be miffed but you'll be catching him returning the smirk you have on your face. Oh, by all means, have your way with him right then and there as well. Equal rights, equal sexy times.

Grabbing your backside and pulling you closer to him, pressed against his chest and his growing bulge in his pants oh sweet Jesus-

Will for sure spank you while you’re riding him or he’s railing you from behind, the sounds of skin slapping against skin while he sees your ass jiggle with every thrust is just so fucking hot

He wants to reach deep down, as far as his cock can reach, nothing in the house is safe from him pounding your pussy and giving you a creampie.

Speaking of that, He LOVES to come into you or on you. It gives him a feeling of claiming what's his. Anytime he sees his cum dripping outta you or running down your skin, Marshall’s ready to go again.

Or he could use a sex toy, making sure his cum stays inside and your pussy ready for him in a few.

Kinks

We’ve already covered the dom/sub parts, but there is SO much potential for other kinks that you and him can get into so let’s get right into it

Breeding Kink:

I mean how can we not start this off without mentioning that

Can, and will ram you harder and faster than a piston AND make sure you both cum multiple times

If you’re walking the next morning, that means he failed the assignment so now he’s boutta rectify that

Dirty talk is cranked to a hundred as he’s growling in your ear on how much of a slut you are for his seed, how he’ll fill you up and make sure your womb is carrying his baby, how gorgeous you would look with your belly swollen with your little creation, etc.

Even if he’s sure that he doesn’t want anymore kids (given his age or experience, which is understandable), imagine the baby fever he gets when he sees or imagines you with kids

He’s perfectly happy with just you and him, but the possibility of you, him, and maybe a little one you made together from your love? His pupils are dilating like a cat getting ready to pounce

Even if the possibilities are extremely unlikely, the mere thought of it and he’s giving you the 🥺 eyes. (Every time you see him make those eyes at you, it’s probably cause he’s feelin the breeding urge)

If you're not able to, that doesn't change a thing; he wants to make you feel like you're his no matter what, and you are! He loves you for you.

Obsessed with coming inside you after railing you into the mattress, filling you to the brim with his seed

Loves giving you a creampie and then watching it leak out of your pussy, might take the initiative to stuff his spilling cum back into you

Or he could just fuck you at multiple different times during the day like the stud he is

Hell he may as well just not pull out and you’ll both be falling asleep still connected

You'll be waking up with his member engorged and slowly thrusting in you while he nuzzles into you, taking in your scent, kissing your lips so softly until you both cum. After that he takes you to the shower and you both wash each other

Loves marking your skin with his mouth, letting anyone know that your his and his only

Your cunt and everything else is thoroughly satisfied every time the breeding kink comes on don’t you worry about that honey

Size Kink:

Hey don't judge his 5'7 ass. Marshall's got other big things minus his height; Big hands, big ears, HUGE CO-

If you're smaller than him: He praises you for taking him in so well, whispers words of encouragement with every inch he pushes into you until you can feel his tip brushing against your cervix. Doesn't want to overdo it in fear of hurting you, but with your insistence he'll be going all out in due time

If you're taller than him: He LOVES it. No cap you being taller or bigger than him is so fucking sexy. Makes him more eager to make you come and more confidence in exploring different ways to do so

Takes a hand in yours and guides you both to press against your stomach, feeling for his cock thrusting into you

Praises you constantly as he feels your walls stretch around him so perfectly

Once you feel like you can take all of him, all of his restraint is gone as he pounds your sopping wet cunt relentlessly

Body worshipping is a must regardless of size

Feral/Primal Kink:

You know how possessive he can be, and that still translates to the bedroom. Even when he knows you're his, he can't help but feel turned on by his possessiveness for you.

And when you're all his, he can go fucking. Crazy.

It's also the dom feeling in him as well, but he has a need to claim you: Not out of insecurity, but out of his desire to make sure you know how much he loves you.

Likes biting your ear as an affectionate gesture. Sometimes he enjoys lightly tugging as a playful gesture to get you riled up.

Marshall thinks the growling thing is dumb as hell but if you're into that he'll try to give you some throaty growls in your ear, but expect him to start cracking up at his attempts until he's used to it

He thinks he can't do it yet he doesn't realize the low rumble in his throat whenever he gets a jealous streak

Voice/Audio Kink:

Well, well, WELL. Someone's ego is about to be stroked harder than his cock for once

He’ll absolutely be moaning and grunting more often when you guys have sex

Jokingly asks if you want to put some music on before you start fucking though he probably cringes listening to his own music during sex

Definitely ruins the mood for him when he hears someone that collabed with him on one of his songs or if any of his lyrics mention things that he doesn't want to think about when horny

Whenever he asks what you're listening to and hears one of his songs, he can't help but inwardly smile or smirk with pride. "Good choice." He nods, keeping his face unreadable.

If he catches you listening to FACK he just starts dying with laughter and dying on the inside simultaneously

No but seriously, he's super fucking flattered knowing how much his music or just his voice turns you on

Whispers in your ear during sex, either praising, teasing, or telling you what to do

He'll be observing which tone provokes the biggest reaction out of you so he can remember it for future reference

(People working with him in the studio are gonna be wondering why he's so close to the mic while recording recently)

Might record something just for your ears to listen to when you guys are apart ;)

Sex Positions

Missionary:

Ah, the OG.

Ranging from being the most vanilla to literally breaking the bed and making the house shake. Most people’s go-to position and Marshall is no different.

He’s got full access to your face, neck, and breasts while he pounds you into the mattress, absolutely loves it and it’s no surprise.

Is eye contact a kink? He’ll be wanting to look you in the eyes no matter the pace you’re going. Additionally may often include forehead touching and/or nose nuzzling. Incredibly hot and intimate.

If he’s feeling extra curious or dominant, he might even push your legs back and over his shoulders to reach even deeper into you. (In other words, putting you in a mating press.) You ain’t walking for a few days after this. Catch his freaky ass all smug n shit.

Slow and intimate in this position is SO fulfilling. It’s like baring your souls to one another.

Going fast and rough is just straight up a joyride and a half. It feels carnal in the best way possible.

Overall you can’t fuck this up really. It’s missionary for crying out loud.

Doggystyle:

*clears throat* Ahem. BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

If you haven’t seen my fic Heat yet, it’s basically me writing smut for the first time in this position but taken to the next level. Should hint at a lot on what imma bout to say tbh

YES. HELL YES. PLEASE LET HIM RAM INTO YOU FROM BEHIND. HE’LL BE POUNDING INTO YOU SO FUCKING HARD

If you go face down on the bed, ass up? Holy shit

Expect bruises on your hips the next morning… also a very horny man ready to go again or to absolutely worship the fuck outta you for taking it so fucking amazingly

He'll be running a bath for you, being extra doting and attentive, the whole nine yards while also feeing that masculine satisfaction™ at the fact that he's able to get you to that state of bliss.

By far the most feral position. If he’s got a breeding kink I wish you luck on how many times you’re gonna come and he’s gonna come

If you’re also into taking it in the ass I respect you 👀 kinky motherfucker would love to explore some new ways to fuck

Pronebone is also basically the same as mentioned above, but it’s got that intimate feel, you get me? He’s closer to you whilst also able to attack your neck and shoulders, maybe even have a hot make out session with you while he continues to pound your pussy or ass raw.

As long as you love taking it from behind he’ll be on his knees for you. And on top of you.

Cowgirl/Reverse Cowgirl, You On Top:

Ride him. That’s all I gotta say.

He wants you to ride him. Fuck him silly. He’ll lose it.

It’s a perfect demonstration of him still being the dom. You may be on top, but he’s the one in control.

Might tease you by making you work hard for a reaction outta him. He’ll be pretending to be unimpressed or smug while you bounce in his lap but in reality he’s trying so hard not to break

Either that, or he won’t be holding back on how good you make him feel. Mouth open, quietly moaning, grabbing your ass or your hips.

If he can't take it anymore, he pulls you down to him and holds you tight while he starts bucking his hips, pounding up into you like a piston

Even once you both come he starts back up again before you've even calmed down

Oral (Giving and Receiving)/69:

I mean… are we really gonna question it? Yeah you better give this guy some head he is a slut for it

Give him a blowjob and he’ll be the happiest man alive

You watching his expressions as you’re sucking him off

Might take some practice to take all of him into your mouth cause this man is BIG

Even when he’s got loose sweatpants on you can still see his bulge AND IT’S NOT WHEN HE’S HARD AND HORNY. MARSHALL’S PACKING.

I wish you luck in trying to deepthroat this man

When it comes to oral, he definitely prefers receiving rather than giving

But don’t you DARE underestimate this man’s tongue cause holy fucking hell he’s feasting on your pussy

PLEASE let him suck on your clit while he’s eating you out. That man’s mouth is amazing in many ways for a reason

Imagine having to go out after and if anyone asks him if he wants anything to eat he just replies: “Nah I’m good. I had something earlier.” And then GIVING YOU THE SIDE EYE LOOK-

BEARD. BURN.

Let this man bury his face in between your thighs and imagine the friction of his beard brushing against your skin. If that doesn’t make you cum then him lapping you up will guaranteed

69 turns into a competition to see who can get the other to cum first, or a comforting session of tasting each other

Standing:

Y'all know he can do it pinning you against a wall. Thanks 8 Mile

As hot as it is, take care as not to have your head or back bang against it

Great for quickies but probably not for a long time; You gotta give his back a break lmao

Hugging your waist from behind tho :eyes:

Add a mirror on both opposite ends of the wall and you can watch him thrust into you

He's holding you real tight and close, making sure to hold you up so your legs won't buckle

Spooning:

Feelin real cozy

It can be lazy morning sex; Intimate and gentle as he places kisses behind your ear and buries his face into your neck while he does long, deep strokes in and out of your walls

Or it can be rough: Holding your thigh up while his hips violently thrust into you, only stilling when he comes after you

Another way is his cock slipping between your thighs and humping you eagerly, or his cock rutting against your ass

Push your hips back in time with his thrusts for deeper penetration or the sound of your skin slapping against each other

His hands clutching your hips or grabbing your breasts as he moans in your ear, feeling his cock twitching with his release

- - -

ALRIGHT TIME TO STOP HERE I’VE BEEN KEEPING THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR MONTHS Anyways hope y’all enjoyed this and then some <3 I might come back to this and and more so who knows? If you enjoyed let me know your feedback and if you have any suggestions!

[bosinclairsgff]

Slashers reacting to self harm scars

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM

Warning: talk of self harm, Otis’s is kinda dark, kidnap

Includes: Baby Firefly, Otis Driftwood, Bo Sinclair, The Grabber, Amanda Young

Baby would be laying down with you in bed one night. She loves cuddling you and covering you in kisses. The kisses would start at your neck and go the way down to your hands. That’s when she feels scabbed over cuts on your arm. Immediately she sits up and grabs your arm. “Sugar, what happened?? Are ya okay? Did someone hurt ya?” She asks frantically. You would have to explain to her what happened. She’s heartbroken at first, not understanding why you would do that to yourself. Baby loves you so much and wants you to see how amazing you are. “Oh sweetheart, you don’t have to do that. It’s okay ya know I’ll take care ya.” She says sympathetically, pulling you into a tight hug. “Please don’t do that again sugar, come to me, I’ll help you.” Baby says. You nod in response, maybe she could help you.

Otis wanted to take a shower with you, which you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for getting him clean. The only bad thing was you had just relapsed recently. You did not want him to see that right now, not knowing how he’d react. Otis went ahead of you and started the shower, getting in first. You slowly followed behind him. “What the fuck is taking ya so god damn long girl, I don’t have all fucking day.” He shouts. You pick the pace up, undressing and stepping into the shower with him. Immediately his eyes fall to your arms and thighs. “What the fuck happened to ya?” He says reaching out to touch your arm. You wince and pull back. “I asked what the fuck happened.” He states in a darker tone. Taking to long for his liking he grabs you by the neck and pushes you against the wall. “You think it’s okay to harm yourself like that mama?” Otis questions again. You shake your head, struggling to breathe. “You ever pull some shit like this again, and I’ll show you real mother fucking pain bitch.” He growls into your ear.

For the past few days you’ve been walking around Ambrose in a long sleeve shirt, keeping it on day and night. Bo starts to notice after the first day. How you avoid him touching one of your arms. Even at night when you usually sleep in one of his oversized shirts, you’ve stuck to a tight long sleeve. So, he confronts you one night. “Darlin, why are you wearin that damn long sleeve shirt in the middle of a Louisiana summer?” Bo questions while tilting his head to the side. It catches you off guard you thought he hadn’t noticed. “Oh I’m not sure. I didn’t even realize I had been wearing a long sleeve shirt. It does keep the sun off me though so that’s good I suppose.” You try to laugh it off. He looks down and chuckles, before grabbing you roughly and the wrist. You yelp in response. Before you can protest he harshly shoves your sleeve up your arm, making you wince in slight pain. His eyes widen at the sight. “Baby, why would you do that? I never want to see this shit again. You understan me?” He barks out like an order, gripping your wrist tighter. “Okay! I promise I won’t do it again, please let go.” Satisfied, he lets go.

It was the third day you had been taken and kept in this hell like basement. You knew it was The Grabber who had taken you. Sometimes when you woke up, you found him sitting near the mattress, just watching you sleep. It scared you but also brought almost a sick comfort. This time he came downstairs he had a small cardboard box in his hands. “I brought you a….new shirt and new underwear. So I can wash your pants.” He says smiling. You say nothing in response, just nodding. He sat down the box in front of you, watching, waiting for you to make a move to look into the box. Scared, you move forward and taking the shirt and underwear out of the box. “Where can I change?” You say, just above a whisper. The man chuckles darkly. “You’ll change right here dove.” His dark smile growing larger. Not wanting to make him mad you take your shirt off, revealing your arms to him. His eyes stay emotionless but intrigued. “Oh my little dove, why do such a thing? Your skin is so beautiful.” He says in almost a kind, caring voice. “I don’t know, it helps me calm down. The world can be so much to handle.” You respond putting the shirt over your head. You couldn’t hide your arms as it was a short sleeve shirt. It was however just oversized enough to hide your most precious parts from his eyes as you changed underwear. Sliding the cardboard box back over to his feet with the dirty clothes you look up at him. He squats down, now eye to eye with you. “What will you do now to handle the world?” He laughs darkly, getting up and leaving you alone in the dark basement.

[rapunzelbro]

Imagine Husk Finding Out You Relapsed

Im going to be on a hiatus and post here and ther. My mental health is causing me to not be as inspired. Anywho this is kinda a comfort fic and was hard to write so sorry in advance

Masterlist Taglist

When you started your path to redemption it meant having to stop your addcition that you carried over from before you were dead

It was a struggle to say the least but Husk was there to help you through all your shit.

He knew of all your nervous tendencies that led you towards reaching out for the drugs and offered alternatives which really helped

He constantly checked your room for drugs and when he found them, he never yelled

“What’s got you feeling like you need them?”

“I don’t know who I am without them”

That was always your excuse and he helped you but you just couldn’t let go of your struggles no matter how hard you tried

You and Husk making a deal that he would stop gambling in exchange for you to stop which was a major deal on his end

You agreeing and it going well up until you suddenly just loose it entirely.

Snapping at Angel Dust over some shit you two get in an argument about and leaving the hotel

Husk leaving to find you later at the bar that was packed. And you were with a bunch of others doing drugs before you followed behind before leaving from the back

You instantly regretting it when someone takes you and leads you out of the bar using his arm to support yourself

“Oh fuck no”

Husk quickly shooting the man before he could try any bullshit on you when you two made it outside and you falling from no support side he just died

Husk catching you instantly

“Doll.. why?”

You just not responding not having an answer for to as he takes you back to the hotel. And to your room

Angel glancing over at you, knowing exactly what you did and he feels slightly guilty to cause you to reach back towards her past

Husk placing you on your bed

“Y/n I’m not mad but why?”

“I don’t know.. I really don’t know”

You ending up crying trying to explain to him your best while he just listens to you, it breaks him hearing you like this.

“I’ll stick by your side until this is all resolved okay?”

“You.. you promise?”

“Yes doll I promise”

He keeps his word and this time you keep yours. And you finally have someone who is more important than your past

Husk

Husk Taglist: @saturnhas82moons @mixplara @aphestina @brithedemonspawn @vendetta-ari

[dbnightingale24]

React

A Stepcest love story about Jim

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Because why not? I have a million other stories to update, so why not add another one to the list? I've been working on this story for a while, but I've been anxious to upload it. I've decided to go back to my old ways (for this story only) and not give you guys a novel. We're gonna do this bit by bit. I have more than enough to post the full story, but I know a good amount of people haven't seen it. As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for an amazing moodboard! I think the world of you, and I can't wait to hug you again, and cry entirely too much over life. ANYWHO, let's get started, shall we?

P.S. The playlist is going to be the same for this entire story. K, lets go!

Word Count: 3,514

Warnings: Swearing, Family Drama, Stepdaughter/Step Father interest, Drinking, Drinking Relapse, MINORS DNI, Emotional Cheating...I think that's it for now?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You're Turning Me Cruel Cause I'm Just Wanting You To React

Summary: You and and your Mother have never had the best relationship, but the both of you have always tried. However, when she invites you to stay, and you're met with the last surprise you were expecting, will any progress be made? Or will it just get worse? Catastrophically worse.

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I do not give permission/consent for my stories/works to get posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior/relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

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Chapter 1

It wasn’t exactly exciting, going home for Summer Holiday, but the thought of getting your own place just feels too daunting . Yes, graduation is coming up soon, but with the cost of everything as it is, you’d much rather wait until you actually have to rent one. Yes, you’re Mother is the last person you want to spend any time with, but who knows? Maybe she finally got a handle on her drinking?

Yeah, that’s likely.

As you knock on her door, you shift nervously from foot to foot, and you don’t know why. It doesn’t matter that you two rarely talk, or rarely see each other, she’s still your Mother.

Whether she likes it or not.

“Hello,” a man greets with a soft smile once he opens the door.

Well, hello to you too.

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/M/N? Last I was told, she still lives here.”

“She does,” he laughs softly, standing aside to let you in, “she ran off to the store. She wanted to be back by the time you got here. She’s been anxious,” he confesses softly, closing the door. 

You give him a look over as you place your bags down, and you can’t help but marvel at how handsome he is. He has beautiful ocean blue eyes, a slender physique (but you can tell there’s some muscle there), black hair that’s starting to gray a bit that you just wanna run your hands through and, lastly, a gold band on his finger.

Pause. There’s no way...oh, fuck no.

“What’s your name?” you ask with a kind smile, though your mind is racing a million miles a minute. 

“Jim. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“That wouldn’t be because you’re married to my lovely Mother, is it?” you question, and he softly shakes his head.

“She wanted you to be here.”

“Oh, I bet she did,” you scoff, shaking your head. “I bet she fucking did. Do you want a drink? I want a drink.”

“She doesn’t keep booze-” “Oh yes she does, you just have to know where to look,” you smirk, making your way into the kitchen. “How long have you two been married?”

“About a year.”

“Well, God bless you,” you mutter, stomping around on the kitchen floor. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone all saintlike on me now,” you scowl, before finally stomping on the hollow tile. “If there’s one person I know, it’s my Mother,” you scowl with a nod, before crouching down and picking at the at the worn tile. “So, how did you two lovebirds meet?”

“Maybe it would be best if she told you,” he mumbles as you pull up the tile on the floor. 

“I’m gonna level with ya, Jim. My Mother and I? Not the best relationship. So, whatever she says, I’m not gonna believe her. Hell, she’s been married a year and I’m just finding out about it. So,” you huff, standing on your feet once you’ve dug out the bottle of whiskey from the floor, and recovering the hole with the tile, “how’d you two meet?”

“At a bar,” he tells you, seemingly shocked that you actually did find a bottle. “Someone I used to see worked there. Her and I broke up and soon enough I started seeing your Mother.”

“I’m guessing things went well if you married her,” you mutter, grabbing two glasses.

Do you mean to turn her world upside down? No. However, it doesn’t change the fact that your world has been turned upside down, and you can’t help but be a little irritated by it.

Irritated by her.

“Do you have a drinking problem too?” you ask, pouring you both a drink, “don’t wanna mess up anyone’s progress or lack of,” you scoff.

You really don’t mean to be rude to the handsome man, this is just the last thing you expected.

“No, but-”

“Well, lets work on that,” you laugh humorlessly as you raise your glass to cheers him. 

Once again, it’s not the handsome stranger’s fault, but you’re also caught completely off guard.

“Has she cut down on drinking?” you ask, after taking a sip.

“She really hasn’t started drinking since she told me you were coming home for Holiday.”

“That makes an awful lot of sense. I handle her about as well as she handles me. She didn’t give you a warning?”

“She just said that things will be tense for a few days, but things will smooth out.”

“ ‘Things will smooth out’. Well, that’s one way of putting it. Well, Jim..Dad,” you scoff humorlessly, “I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this,” you mumble as the front door unlocks. 

“Honey, is she...oh,” your Mother sighs as he closes the door.

She’s more than likely seen the bags by the door. 

“I wanted to be here when you first got here, but I realized I forgot a few things at the market and had to...ah,” she mutters, taking note of both you and Jim drinking whiskey.

How the hell else did she think this was gonna go?

“I know what it looks like, but it’s not-”

“If you’d have told me, I would’ve gotten you a wedding gift,” you laugh as you raise a glass to her. 

“I didn’t want you to be mad.”

“You got married and this is the first time I’m hearing about it. What reaction did you think you were going to get?”

“I just knew you wouldn’t get it. I know we’ve been through a lot, but once you get to know him-”

“I don’t need a Father, Mum,” you shrug before finishing off your drink. “I’m not even trying to be a cunt. I’ve just gone all these years without one, and I’m a full grown adult now. I just would’ve appreciated a heads up,” you shrug before pouring yourself another glass. “I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.”

You’re quick to grab your bags in the entry way, and finally make your way upstairs. You only make it three up three steps before an argument breaks out. You take a deep breath before continuing your way up the stairs. You know what’s coming, and you know it’s gonna last for the entirety of the Summer. God, if only you knew how much damage you’d truly done.

You would’ve never come home for the Summer.

**

“I don’t want to argue,” Jim sighs, clearly exasperated, “I just wish you would’ve told me! I’m coming into this looking like the bad guy.”

“Of course, make it all about you,” your Mother slurs and you roll your eyes.

They’ve been arguing since you’ve retreated to your old bedroom. You truly didn’t mean to start an argument between the two of them. Despite what your Mother believes, you do want her to be happy, but you’re just tired of her shit. At this point, it truly feels like she goes out of her way to make things complicated, and there’s no fucking reason for it. She always needs to paint someone else as the bad guy and, for as much as she may love Jim right now, she will make him the bad guy if she thinks it’ll workout better for her in the end. 

“Honey-”

“I’m meeting up with Rose. Don’t wait up,” she slurs as she storms out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Somewhere deep, deep, down inside, you do feel bad. However, it’s not bad enough for you to actually apologize to her. Yes, you’re used to her bullshit, but this? This is a new level of audacity, even for her. Not to mention, you do feel bad for Jim. You know absolutely nothing about the man, so he may be complete and total scum, but you do know she won him over with a personality built on lies. However, you truly didn’t mean to drag him into you and your Mother’s years and years of drama.

Which is why you’re now picking up your empty glass and making your way downstairs, taking a deep breath as you reach the last step.

Can’t hurt to get to know the man that’s apparently your new stepfather. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you greet as you make your way into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table.

“It’s not your fault she kept things from me.”

“While that is true, I didn’t have to burst your bubble like that. You two had a life, and I just came in and made a mess of it. When it comes to my Mother, no one ever seems to make me as angry as she does.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that angry before,” he laughs halfheartedly.

There’s an awkward silence, so you take the moment to pour the both of you a drink.

“She told me that you’re in your last year of Uni?”

“Yeah, so it’s about time for me to find my own place. The price of everything is just so damn high right now,” you sigh, finally looking over at him.

No, you’re not exactly a fan of your Mother going out and getting married without a word to you, but you have to commend her on her taste in men.

The man is gorgeous.

“You’re not wrong, I don’t know how your Mum was able to afford this place before I moved in.”

“Her parents. My grandparents kind of always took care of us, because shes always been a wild child and they never really trusted her to be able to make a stable living. When they died, they left her everything. Including this house,” you mumble, swirling the dark brown liquid around in your glass. “Lets table the talk about the crazy lady for a bit though,” you smirk and he chuckles, “tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Is this your first go at marriage? What do you do for a living? Any kids? Fill me in on all the basic information I should know,” you shrug, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’ve got two kids, this is my second time being married, and I’m a writer.”

“Your second time getting married, and you chose my Mum? I’d really love to know how she won you over.”

“She loves does love you, Y/N.”

“In her own way, yes she does. However, you’ll come to find this Summer that, that love will drive you mad. You’ll find out just how strong your love is for her.”

“Well, what’s so wrong with you?”

“God, if I knew, I would tell you,” you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. “I think I just remind her of failure, which is fine by me, honestly. I learned to accept it early on, and we’ve both been better for it. I call her on Christmas and her birthday, and that’s enough. She calls when she remembers or when she’s drunk and sad, but I barely heard from her this past year and I assume that’s because of you. Thanks for that.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, I genuinely mean that. You’ve made her happy and I appreciate that. I’ll try not to stay long-”

“She does want you here,” he interjects sincerely before taking a sip of his drink.

“Not as much as you’d think she would. You are her do-over, and I could easily ruin that for her. My best friend lives close by and I wasn’t gonna ask to stay with her, cause she has a daughter so space is limited, but I will. I know she’ll be more than happy to have me, and I miss her like crazy anyway.”

“I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

You stand up and grab your glass and slowly make your way to the counter, “well, you shouldn’t because you’ve done nothin’ wrong. You can’t break or cause more damage to something you had no knowledge of. Have you eaten today?”

“Y/N-”

“It’s alright, Jim. You’re not breaking up some happy Mother/Daughter relationship,” you laugh softly. “Now, have you eaten?”

“I had a light lunch, your Mother said she wanted us all to have dinner together.”

“She has these ideas, and then she gets drunk. Lets see what we have,” you mutter, opening the fridge and bending over to see what your Mother picked up from the store.

You and Jim spend the next hour or getting to know each other as you bake some salmon, make some mashed potatoes, and steam a bit of broccoli. You make sure to make enough for your Mother, because you know by the time she gets back, she’ll be shitfaced and will need something in her stomach as soon as she wakes up tomorrow. 

“You and your Mother have two very different cooking styles,” Jim notices as he leans against the counter, his third glass of whiskey in his hand.

“My grandmother taught me how to cook,” you smile at the memory while taking the salmon out of the oven, opening the foil just a bit to check on it. “My Mother learned how to cook from me and then put her own twist on it.”

“What did your Mother teach you how to do?”

“Umm, I’m really good on skates because of her. That would be our thing on the weekend. She taught me that getting hurt is okay and apart of life, and that I shouldn’t ever fear pain from anything or anyone. That she was right about.”

“She truly was excited about you coming, Y/N.” “I don’t doubt it, but she and I...we’ve always had a difficult relationship. She never wanted to be a parent, and she got to play “big sis” until my grandparents died. I was 12 and she never grew into the roll of being a parent. I used to hate her for it, but I learned to accept it. She kept a roof over my head, food on the table, and attempted to show up to school events. She wants a friend, not a daughter. There’s a reason she never told me about you, can you pass me two plates?” you ask, turning the oven and the stove off. “You seem like a nice guy though, and that’s what she needs. She’s never had a good guy before.”

“What about your Dad?”

“I’ve seen him twice, and both times, he was a complete and total cock. Pardon my language,” you smirk as he laughs. “No, my Mum wasn’t all that great, but at least she stuck around and tried. He only came around for money, both times my grandparents told him no and Mum threatened to break his knee with that fire poker in the other room.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t a good man,” you shrug, starting to plate the food. 

“I feel like I should’ve helped.”

“You kept me company, and that’s just as good as helping,” you smile up at him.

“I should at least set up the table,” he offers, clearing his throat as he stands up right, taking the silverware out of the drawers.

“If you insist.”

“Can’t have you thinking too little of me so soon,” he teases and you scoff. 

“You get a pass for today, it’s been a rough one for you.”

You don’t notice the way his eyes travel over your body, and even if you had, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. He’d had a few drinks and his day went from good to a headache. He wasn’t the first guy to look you over and he wouldn’t be the last.

While he poured more drinks, you grabbed two water bottles out of the fridge, before finally taking a seat across from him at the table. Once again, the conversation flowed effortlessly and, the more you both drank, the harder it got to remember that this man was married to your Mother.

He’s your stepfather. 

When dinner is done, he insists on doing the dishes.

“It’s no big deal-”

“I derailed your day a bit, it’s the least I can do,” he laughs softly as he starts washing off the plates.

“Alright, you have a job, you’re a good Father, you’re good looking...why didn’t your first marriage work out?” you question, leaning against the counter.

You don’t miss the heavy sigh or the way his movements faltered a bit before answering.

“I cheated on my wife with a family friend. She never found out that it was a friend, but it wasn’t hard for her to figure out that I’d been up to something I shouldn’t have been.”

“Ah, so you are capable of making a mistake.”

“You’re not mad at me?” he laughs softly.

“It’s not like you cheated on my Mum, besides, it’s not like her record is perfect.”

“No stern talking to?” he smirks towards you.

“I’m just getting to know you,” you laugh. “She clearly saw something in you and didn’t feel the need to consult me on it. If she trusts you, I’m gonna have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

“You are somethin’ else.”

“I get that a lot.”

For just a moment, as both gaze at each other, you forget that there’s a line you shouldn’t be crossing with this man. It was literally just discussed that he’s married to your Mother. That doesn’t seem to matter right now , though. Not when he’s fun, handsome, and looking at you like he wants to get to know every little thing about you.

Well, that is until your Mother comes stumbling through the front door. 

“Fuck!” she exclaims, crashing into the wall.

“I’ll handle it,” you mutter, quickly pushing yourself up from the counter.

You need to get away from him anyway.

“I hope you’re happy,” she slurs as you collect her. “He hates me and it’s your fault. Men always hate me because of you!”

“So happy to be staying here,” you mutter, kicking the door close as you help her stand upright.

“You ran your Father off, my other boyfriends-”

“Did ya eat tonight?”

“As if you give a fuck,” she scowls barely bothering to help you get her up the steps. “Jim is good man-”

“He’s done nothing but sing your praises all bloody night, he’s not goin’ anywhere. Now, stop being difficult and walk with me.”

“I can do it m’damn self!”

“As tempted as I am to let that happen, you’d break ya neck and I’d feel bad. Now, lets go.”

“Bitch.”

“I know,” you sigh.

Lacking both style and grace, you get her up the stairs and unceremoniously into the bed, helping her to get her shoes off as well as her shirt. By the time you pull the covers up over her, she’s snoring. You’re quick to get to the bathroom and fill up one of the disposable cups in there and grab two aspirin, before quickly and quietly making your way back into the bedroom and putting them down on her nightstand. Giving your small kiss on her temple, you quietly make your way out of the room and let out a deep breath. 

There’s no way you can stay here for the entire Summer.

With a look of pure pity written across his face, Jim asks, “are you okay?” once you’re back in the kitchen.

“Nothing I haven’t handled before,” you respond with a defeated smile. “I’ll be out of here by the time both of you are up.”

“Y/N-”

“She’ll be like this for the entire Summer if I stay, which will make the both of us miserable in return.”

“I can talk to her.”

“You’re sweet. I can see why she worked her magic on you.”

“Please-” “Thank you for doing the dishes and putting the food away. Don’t stay up too late,” you smile at him before getting on your tiptoes and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Jim. It was nice meeting you.”

You grab your phone off the table and make your way upstairs, laughing softly and shaking your head at your Mother’s snores which have grown much louder in the short amount of time it took you to get back upstairs. 

Plopping down on your bed with a heavy sigh, you unlock your phone and text the one person you can always count on.

Y/N: I’m sorry it’s so damn late, but would you be okay with me stayin’ with you for the Summer?

Cherry Bomb: Just put your goddaughter down. You know you’re always welcome here! Y/M/N being a cunt?

Y/N: I’ll tell you all about it in the mornin’. Love you and thank you.

Cherry Bomb: I should’ve been ya first stop ;) 

You laugh softly, placing your phone down on your nightstand and turning over to your side, doing your best to ignore the events of the day. You’re half asleep when you hear Jim make his up the stairs and join your Mother in the bedroom. 

‘Soon enough, all of this will be a distant memory,’ you think to yourself as you drift off to sleep.

If only that were true.

~~

[theapangea]

Alcoholics Anonymous

Lip Gallagher x Reader

Summery: You and Lip meet at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, talk of religion

It’s a part of you and always will be.

The addiction that still runs every little part of your life. Even if it’s been years, it will always be there, dormant in a small, dark part of your brain until it becomes awaken by some outside cause that sweeps you off your feet and ultimately fucks you over. The yearning for the taste will always live somewhere deep inside of you.

Alcohol is your addiction and you are an addict. 

And no matter the length of time that you spend at these meetings, week after week while you work on yourself, all you will ever be is an addict. Addicted to not only the alcohol but the repetitiveness of your life now after the drinking. 

The question is…when will you finally let it consume you?

The sound of clapping pulls you from your internal monologue. Realizing you haven’t been paying any attention to the other members talking about their road to recovery. It was all the same anyway - though you’d never say that outloud. 

Always some stupid, awful event that got them into heavy drinking and now they are trying to pick up all the little pieces. The sad part is that most of them are going to relapse sooner or later. 

Tapping your foot on the fake wood floor of the high school gym, shiny from the recent wax job. Scanning the familiar faces as you try to guess who is going to succumb to the madness first. Your guess is the cat lady that is sitting a couple of chairs away from you. She’s been taking an awful lot about one of her cars getting super sick, she’ll definitely need a drink if it dies.

“Thank you for sharing,” Reverend Mills' voice echoes through the gymnasium, sending a gracious smile at the older gentleman as they meet at the podium. Their hands meeting as the Reverend mumbles a prayer. Like God is going to help stop him from drinking, you can practically see the metal flask in his jacket pocket. Damn, these people are just getting stupider.

Tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind the plastic seat, arms crossed over your chest as you wait for this hour to end. You like these meetings when the people actually take the system seriously. You are tired of all of the people who use this group as a revolving door.

“Would anyone else care to share,” His eyes wander along the long faces until they finally land on you, clearly not paying any attention. Your name falling from his mouth, not really asking but telling you that it was your turn.

A half-ass smile pulls across your mouth as you grudgingly stand up and make your way to the front of the group. It was inevitable for you to speak at every meeting. You are the one with the longest days sober and Reverend Mills likes your story, says it’s inspiring or whatever. 

Fingernails picking at the edges of the wooden podium as you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/N.” The fake smile and tone of voice is very apparent to everyone.

The group saying hello in unison back to you.

You begin, “I have been sober for almost 2 years… to be specific, 1 year, 10 months and,” counting on your fingers, “13 days as of today.” Pausing as the group claps at your accomplishment. 

Continuing, “I can’t believe how slow times go now that I’m sober. I used to feel like I lost days, weeks even to drinking. Waking up on a Sunday morning not remembering the past week, knowing that I’d probably forget the week after.” A laugh from a few of the members as you joke about an all too common side effect of drinking. “Looking back on these two ye-”

The sudden squeak of the entrance doors interrupts your speech. Rolling your eyes as you and the group watch the young man struggle to close the door without making more sound, unfortunately for him (and you), he couldn’t. The squeaking sound booming with every inch as he pulls it closed, finally a sense of relief washes over his body when it’s done.

Adjusting the backpack on his shoulder as he turns around to notice all the people staring at him in silence. Mouthing a quiet curse and apologizes as both of his hands shoot up in front of him before he hurries to one of the back seats. 

Ironically the plastic chair creaks when he finally sits down, a huff of annoyance escaping him.

You can’t help but just stare. Your mind is completely blank as you notice his messy hair and tight jeans. Only realizing you had been staring a bit too long when his eyes meet yours. The tiny spark makes you gulp as you quickly look away. 

“Please continue, Y/N.” The Reverend encourages you to continue your story.

“Sorry, yeah.” Shaking your head to gather your thoughts again as you struggle not to look in the direction of the man practically sitting in your frontal view, “Looking back on these two years of sobriety, I find it almost crazy that I was able to put myself first. That I was able to overcome my addiction. And it’s funny, the thing most people don’t tell you is that you never stop wanting alcohol. It’s always there, the little voice in the back of your mind saying it’s ok for you to have one, little, tiny sip. Won’t do any harm. But it will, to people like us, it will. It’s hard, not impossible. Thank you.”

A quick flash of a smile to the group before quickly moving back to your seat, a wave of applause follows after you. The Reverend starts to talk about sobriety and ends the meeting with a group prayer.

As everyone’s heads are lowered, you take the chance to look back over your shoulder at the boy sitting in the back, the one who interrupted your speech. Though semi-happy as you were able to cut it shorter than normal.

Peering over your left shoulder, head turning slowly as you try not to make it too obvious, finding that he was already staring at you. A cheeky smile engulfing his face instantly makes you blush as you immediately turn your head back around. Embarrassed beyond belief that he caught you sneaking another look at him. 

You groan silently to yourself as the Reverend ends the prayer and a unison ‘Amen’ circles the room. Crossing your arms as you lean deeper into the chair, eyes fixated on the floor as you watch the dozen or so shoes scramble to depart.

“Amazing speech, Y/N.” Reverend Mills compliments as he walks up to you. His shoes a black leather loafer, “Like always.”

Looking up at him to respond, “Well if you keep making me talk at every meeting, I’m going to run out of things to say.” 

His face is kind, soft features and years of wrinkles form into a warm smile. You aren’t trying to be mean by your statement, but tired of the never ending cycle of the program. 

“There’s always more to your stories, you just chose to skip over those parts.” The Reverend implies, as he knows more about you than you tell to the group. Confiding in him through the course of these couple of years. He has good intentions, you are just wary of everyone.

Pulling your attention, “There is someone I want you to meet.” Nodding his head, signaling for you to stand and follow him, “Lip!” Practically shouting over the group, waving for him to come over to the two of you.

You can’t tell right away who he is yelling for until the young man from before, the one who caught you staring, starts to walk over to the both of you. Two cookies wrapped in a napkin in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other. 

You can practically feel the bleed leave your face, leaving you in a ghostly, shocked state. 

“Lip, this is the girl I was telling you about.” Reverend Mills says as he gestures towards you. “Lip, this is Y/N and Y/N this is Lip.”

Lip places the styrofoam cup in his mouth, with the edge with his teeth as his now free hand extends out in front of you. A couple of beats pass as you don’t move, your eyes locked onto him as he nods his head for you to shake his hand. His blue eyes are even more piercing up close. Gulping as you slowly reach for his hand, the firm shake completed by him as you still are unable to move. The touch is electrifying.

The Reverend lets out a light laugh when the hand shake is over, obviously picking up on the awkwardness between you and Lip. “So Y/N, I was wondering if you’d like to be his sponsor.”

The comment quickly pulls you into reality. A sponsor? You barely want to coach yourself everyday not to pick up the bottle and now you may have to make sure someone else stays on their path. “Oh, I don’t know…” You trail off, the uncertainty lingering long after your voice stops.

“I think that you two would be a great fit.” Mills insists as he places a hand on your shoulder,  “Lip needs help and I think you can relate to him.”

Well now you feel obligated to do it. Great.

You scan Lip up and down as you try to study who he is as a person. Cocky, annoying, smart. Huffing as you speak, “How long have you been sober.”

“Two-ish hours.” He mumbles before taking a bit of his cookie, following with a big gulp of his drink. 

“Reverend, really?” You plead. Knowing that this was absolutely ridiculous. 

“Just see if you can push him in the right direction.” The Reverend states before walking away, attending to the other members. Leaving you and Lip, standing in front of each other to figure this new situation out.

Breathing loud through your nose, clearly annoyed, unable to conceal any part of your disappointment from Lip.

“Look princess, I clearly don’t want to be here either but I’ve got this court thing-” Lip begins, mouth still full of chocolate chip cookie.

Cutting Lip off, “I get you don’t want to be here and I really don’t want to help you. But I’ll be your sponsor to help out Reverend Mills, that’s it.” You state firmly before walking away, only to back track to your original spot, “As for the drinking, it ends today. We’ll start next week.” Finally walking away for good.

Leaving Lip, cookie and coffee in hand, as his body desperately craves a drink.

~~~

I'm seriously so happy with this story series idea. Let me know what you think!! Also let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next part!!

Thank you for reading and supporting me!! I LOVE YOU!!!

[nonbinarypirat]

I have never done a Ted lasso post despite the fact that when I first made my tumblr this was like, the first fandom I was apart of lol. But! I’m so fucking pumped for season 4, I really feel like the finale just didn’t do it justice fully for the show. Some thoughts I have so far:

I would love to see keeley, Jamie, and Roy be a thing but realistically probably not. Especially if it’s stays true that Phil Dunster will be too busy. But I hope they’ll repair Roy and keeley and Jamie and keeley relationship after the weird and awkward fight they threw in. I personally always thought that was a hamfisted ending for them, not to say people can’t relapse into old toxic behaviors but I just felt it was a lazy and overdone trope to end or have a conclusion to a love triangle

Speaking of, it’s still possible Phil dunster could reprise his role, everything is still be worked out and nothing is too set in stone. Hell, an actual season is not set in stone. I would be greatly disappointed if he couldn’t be in it, it wouldn’t feel the same. But if he can’t, at the very least I want a good reason and some cameos, over FaceTime if they have to.

Which brings me to Ted, idk if he’s actually going to be fully in it or just over zoom or something? Is he fully coming back? It would be interesting if they do something similar to the plethora of fanfics of Ted getting hit with mental health issues because “home” doesn’t feel like home anymore and causing conflict in his life and moving back with Henry. Adding to that, I want the ex wife (can’t remember her name rn and I have too much energy to look it up) to break up with the fucking therapist. Dump! That! Man! I don’t want them to get back together, I just want her away from that fucking unethical creep and move to England for her son. But maybe that’s wishful thinking.

Speaking of break ups, break up Beard and Jane. Point blank. One of the worst relationships in the show, toxic as fuck, and Beard deserves better. And get that man some therapy too

I also would like to see Roy’s progress with therapy on top of that. And more keeley with the crew again, I always wished she was included more in the show and not on a side quest. Bring her more in the fold again

We better see Trent Crimm, you can pry that man from my cold dead hands

Seeing Ted get in a new relationship could be fun since I think it’s been long enough distance and he’s grown enough for that. But tbh, I don’t care if Rebecca and Ted get together, I like seeing a platonic hetero friendship that doesn’t need to automatically be romantic. Sometimes people can vibe and just be friends and I always liked that about Ted and Rebecca. But I’m not opposed either if they write it well. Though I highly doubt they’d go down that route since they built up to the Dutch guy and with Rebecca possibly developing a relationship with his daughter, it’d be kind of heartbreaking if they breakup just to put her with Ted. So, if they don’t go the Ted and Rebecca route, I hope we see her relationship more and the daughter

More of Roy’s sister please, I love her. Also more Phoebe

Would love some of the other footballers get to shine. Want to see the women’s league. Love to see Roy struggling with being a new coach

Would like to learn Roy’s family situation since I feel like that’s an untapped well for trauma and issues that probably created and contributed to his anger issues

And I think as a final thing to this long ass post, I’d like to see the after affects of Collin essentially coming out and being the first openly gay player while playing in the league. People had to have seen him kiss his partner and while it was happy, it’s also going to open a floodgate so I hope we get to see that properly addressed and well written

[xoxoladyaz]

It Hits Different This Time, Part 3

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie x Steve Harrington

TW: Mentions of alcohol, drug abuse

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

Brief updates from Eddie, a phone call with Jeff, and finally some news about Gareth

Steve woke up with a stuffy head the next morning; he’d spent a solid hour crying with Robin on the couch after he got off the phone with Eddie, going over everything Eddie had said again and again in excruciating detail. They weren’t sad tears, they were tears of relief, but it still did quite a number on his sinuses.

Thankfully, when he talked with Eddie later that evening, Eddie hadn't let his own negative emotions keep him down.“Talking with Wayne has been tough,” he’d said with a wry laugh. “I’d really been hoping I would never have to have this conversation with him, but hey, we had it, and now things can get better.” (Which reminded Steve that he needed to call Wayne and see how he was doing in all of this.) 

Aside from that, though, Eddie seemed to be in high spirits. He told Steve all about the detox process (“Terrible, I’d rather go skinny-dipping with Jason Carver than go through that again”) and about his conversations with his therapist (“Ugh, I feel like my heart is throwing up, but Doc said that was a good thing and that we’re making progress, so, yay?”) and all about his sobriety sponsor (a seventy-five-year-old Italian woman named Francesca that he called “Frankie, she’s fucking hilarious, I kind of want to set her up with Wayne.”) Steve just couldn’t get over how good it was to hear Eddie like this: how awake and alert he sounded, how clear his voice was, how loud he laughed. It made the last ten months even more glaring in how off Eddie had been before, how badly fucked up he had been on whatever cocktail of drugs he'd been taking.

They’d gotten a bit more time to talk this evening, which was wonderful, but Steve was relieved that they ended their call as early as they did because he had a few calls of his own to make, now that things were settling down somewhat.

“Hey Jeff.”

“Steve!” Jeff’s voice rang loud and clear over the line. “Shit, man, it’s good to hear from you. How are you doing?”

“Good, good. I just got off the phone with Eddie and I just wanted to say thank you, man. I can’t – I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am that you were there for him when I wasn’t.”

“Shit, Steve,” Jeff replied reassuringly. “Eddie’s my brother. He might be kind of an asshole, or, actually, he might be a lot of an asshole - ” (Steve snorted through his nose) “ – but I’d do anything for him. I was happy to be there. And I know that if I was the one getting into that deep shit, he’d have done the same for me.”

“Still, it’s hard, man. I mean, I wasn’t even there and - ” Fuck, he would love to stop getting choked up all the time. “ – and it’s been hard for me. I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.”

Jeff’s sigh was long and deep. “Well, I can’t say it was a fun time, because it wasn’t. It actually really fucking sucked, watching them just fall apart all the time because they were too fucking high. I’m just really glad I didn’t relapse myself.”

“It’s amazing that you didn’t, man.”

“Yeah, well,” he could hear the smile in Jeff’s voice, “I had an angel with me. Speaking of, Chrissy says hi.”

“Hi Steve!” Steve can hear the lilting voice of Jeff’s fiancée in the background.

“Tell her ‘hi’ back for me,” Steve smiled, although on the inside he was reeling. Why wasn’t I enough for him to stay sober?

“I will,” Jeff said back. “And listen, before you start spiraling or anything, Eddie’s drug use has nothing to do with you, man. The only reason I’ve stayed sober the last two years is because I got to a point where I wanted to be. I mean, I was into some rough shit when I met Chris, and it took me about a year and half before I decided it was time to get sober. And yeah, Chrissy was a part of that, just like you’re a part of it for Eddie, but the difference now is that Eddie wants to make this change and get the help to do it. He just got there on his own time. If there’s one thing you can’t do, it’s rush Eddie Munson.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve chuckled, and with his laugh felt the tension in his chest dissipate. “I’ve started telling him our reservations are half-an-hour earlier than they actually are just so we can leave on time. Which reminds me, he told me to treat you and Chrissy to dinner on the Amex.”

“The Amex?” Jeff whistled. “Fancy, fancy. We’ll be back in town next week, maybe you and Robin can meet us somewhere?”

“That would be great. Are you still out in Cali?”

“Yeah,” Jeff sighed, and this time his sigh was sadder. “We’ve been staying near Gareth’s facility, trying to convince him to stay.”

“Shit, man, I was going to ask what happened with him.”

“Gareth,” Jeff sighed again, “he just started the party scene later than the rest of us. It’s still new and exciting to him and he doesn’t think that all the shit he’s doing is a problem. And I mean, he hadn’t really gone that hard until that last weekend right before we came back, but I think he’s still in the denial stage with how bad it’s gotten. Chrissy is getting through to him though, I think. He’s agreed to at least stay for the four-week program.”

“Have you asked Wayne to talk to him? That might help.”

“Shit, I should,” Jeff hummed. “Wayne knows that he’s checked in, but Gareth hasn’t had phone calls until yesterday. I’ll get Wayne the number, see if he can’t help Gareth out.”

“Robin and I would be more than happy to talk to him, too. He’s family, you know? I’d hate to see him get hurt or worse.”

“I’ll let him know that he can give you two a call,” Jeff replied warmly. “That’ll mean a lot to him, I think. I’m going to try to get permission for Eddie to call him, too, I’m just not sure if there’s extra precautions they want people to take when they’re in these programs. At the very least, if Gareth sees Eddie get sober and stay sober, it might inspire him to do the same. You know how much he looks up to him.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve replied, and he was about to say more when his phone started vibrating.

Incoming Call: Wayne Munson

“Wayne’s calling, I’m going to check in with him. Thanks again for everything, Jeff, and let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Absolutely. Talk to you soon, man.”

Steve pressed the End Call, Start New Call button and brought his phone back up to his ear. “Hey Wayne.”

“Hello son. Glad I caught you.”

Tags List: @gregre369 @starman-jpg @skoomy-doompy @thequeenrainacorn @sleepyboosstuff @strawberrykore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @amoris-no-smut-allowed @steve-the-hairrington @iknewyouweremuggle @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sunfloweringstories @loverkasp @hyperfixationgoddess @steddie-as-they-go @zerokrox-blog @messrs-weasley @thelittleclare @lovelyscot @avacrebs @notsopretty-notsopink @novacorpsrecruit @srra @vampireinthesun @questionablequeeries @aylienator @unlit--skeleton @my2amgaythoughts @solliesolesito @epiclazershark @dreamlandforever @steadyllamaghostpeanut @nerdfighteratheart @callme-keys @space-invading-pigeon @bisexual-bilingual-biped @scheodingers-muppet @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @dbquills @julesiuile @child-of-cthulhu @immortal-iratze @r0binscript @manda-panda-monium @abstractnaturaldisaster @ilikeititspretty @high-risk-homosexual-behavior @jonesn4coffee @morganski-19 @almondflavoredbookworm @punctualhowell @sebastiansstanswhore @loguine-linguine @pearynice @imfinereallyy @theoneandonlywhitetiger @kjobriscoe @copingmechanizm @bejeweledbaby

[shrekgogurt]

An ask game for writers to procrastinate working on you WIP(s)

Thanks for the tags @theearlgreymage and @wellbelesbian !!!!

🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s)

For the sake of this endeavor I’m gonna focus on I Knew A Boy, I Knew A Man which is also more affectionately referred to as IKABIKAM, eyecab eyecam, 👁️🚕👁️📸, etc.

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

Natasha as like a vaguely Margaret Thatcher figure but she was in office in the late 90s not the 80s don’t think about it too hard okay the exact policy/praxis doesn’t matter so much as the ideology/vibes/dynamic + Davy (The Mage) as like a fucked up Welsh caricature (of his own design) because he’s overcompensating and has the media literacy of the worst film bro you’ve ever had the misfortune of talking to = their sons falling in love through football/soccer against all odds as juxtaposed between childhood and adulthood.

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

Trauma

🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

Solsbury Hill for obvious reasons

⚠️Which wip you’re most likely to finish or update next?

This one :-)

💾What is your document of your wip/ a wip called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Okay, I’m usually absolute ass at naming files in any helpful fashion but this project is so organized on Google Docs. My notes app is a different story. Those don’t even have titles. I just launch into my whims as they come.

Most interesting answer I can give is that the folder containing all my fic documents is titled “kill the part that cringes.”

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

Listen, I warned y’all.

To be in love with Simon Snow—a life sentence, an encyclopedia of grief.

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

In the original musings of IKABIKAM—titled Scarborough Fair as the club was gonna be in Scarborough—Simon was Irish rather than Welsh and raised by Ruth. I know. Wild to think about now. But it’s true. And then I did some excavating on canon and the story we have today was born. Lost to time (the original idea of this fic which was actually two fics) is a whole very fun scene. I had planned that after the international break match against other, Simon convinced Baz to go out on the town with him. I wrote this snippet back then. It didn’t make the cut for obvious reasons and honestly I don’t know how much I stand by the characterization. Or the prose. Everything about IKABIKAM is better to me but this sexy little number deserves the people’s attention. I’m slightly concerned it’s offensive.

They’re playing INDUSTRY BABY in this club right now? I’m not dancing with Simon Snow to a Lil Nas X song. That music video…I’m only a man. I’m also not exactly sober. I will not risk a Snow relapse. Besides, Snow himself just downed the rest of his drink.

He leans toward me to say something. With the combination of his drunkenness and his accent I can barely make out his words, “eye gahta gohbakta da barrr.” (Translation: I’ve got to go back to the bar.) He really doesn’t.

I pluck the glass from his hand, “this last one is on me.”

He goofily smiles. His head is drooping to the side and his eyes are half-lidded. It would be adorable if I wasn’t worried about him falling over. I scan the room. One of the other Irish players is nearby. I hook Snow’s arm in mine (both my hands are full!) and drag him towards his teammate. He stumbles behind me looking completely blissed out.

I tap the other player on his shoulder. Clancy I think? The left winger. “Hey, I’m going to force Snow home so he can avoid a stomach pump. Could you make sure he doesn’t wander off while I close out my tab?”

He nods. I throw Snow at him and maneuver through the crowd up to the bar. It’s packed. I finish my own drink before I can push an opening to order. The bartender nods at me. She looks worn out from the night. I don’t blame her.

“Soda water with lime please.”

“Sure. What’s the name on the tab?”

“Grimm-Pitch. Could you close it?”

She nods and turns on her heel. A minute or so later she returns with the drink and my card. I take them.

“Is there any chance I could close out my mate’s tab too. He’s pissed.” I gesture back at the direction of Snow and Clancy. A circle of women have surrounded them. Honestly, fair.

The bartender gives me a wary eye. “What’s the name?”

“Snow.”

“Snow? Like the footballer Simon Snow over there?” She points at Simon.

I nod. The bartender scoffs, “Sure I’ll give Simon Snow’s card to some random Englishman.”

Random Englishman? Am I really going to have to do you know who I am this woman? I go for a subtle approach and just sort of lift an eyebrow and draw attention to the name on my own card: Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. The realization hits her. I was afraid I would have to tie my hair up.

“Oh shit. Fuck you’re Baz Pitch.” She stares at me. I hold out my hand. “Right, the card!” She hands me Snow’s card.

I nod, “Alright. Thanks.”

She shakes her head at me, “No, sorry for the hassle. Have a good night English…defensive midfielder…Baz Pitch.” She says my name with a laugh like she’s awestruck I’m in this Dublin nightclub (fair), “and thanks for the win today!”

I’m beyond tired of hearing that line.

When I return Snow is having the time of his life: posted up surrounded by ladies singing along to Ayyy Ladies. They’re not being subtle in their flirting. (Again, fair. Good for them.) Snow is incredibly respectful despite being off his face. Good lad. He’s still far too drunk to consent to anything so I don’t feel terribly guilty for pulling him away from the grind fest.

When he sees me approach he lights up, “Baz!” His arms fly open. “Took you long enough.”

I hand him his drink. There is a blonde woman dancing on him. She throws her arms around his neck. He knocks back the drink and chugs it in one go. A little water dribbles down his chin and he wipes it away with his thumb. It catches on his bottom lip. He hasn’t looked away from me once. And this fucking song…

“When I hit it from the back, don't fuss, don't fight

When I put it in ya mouth, don't scratch, don't bite”

I need to get the fuck out of here.

He hands me back the glass, “That drink was awful. What was it?” His speech is a little less slurred than before.

“Water. I’m taking you home.”

He blushes, “What?”

“You’re plastered. So, you should get sick in your own loo rather than on this lovely woman,” I give the blonde a wink. She dances away.

I’m pretty sure tabs aren’t even really that much of a thing in Ireland. And like…I don’t think you can close them out for someone else. So like. I don’t know what the fuck I was on while writing that. Obviously not Google.com, or reality. But most of all I was absolutely jump-scared reading that back and discovering I was gonna make Baz a defensive midfielder? WTF!?

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

A hockey one-shot. Whenever it happens the chirps are gonna be out of this world.

🤡How many Wips are you actively working on?

One in a way that’s meaningful. Maybe two. It’s a fresh thing.

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

The chapter is really expositional in an isolated way and so I have to backtrack for context without being boring.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

Blessed beyond belief.

Now tagging @artsyunderstudy @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @j-nipper-95 @noblecorgi @prettygoododds @thewholelemon @valeffelees @roomwithanopenfire @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe omg and @emeryhall tell me everything

[gnrbitch]

Grunge Days Epilogue - Moonlight Mile

-----

2003, Slashs POV

1999, the year Y/n left me left me, the promise i had made her back in ‘92 was broken. And as much as she tried, I know that everything i was doing crushed her. It wasn’t much of a surprise when she told me it was over. And as much as it hurt, I had no choice but to let her go.

After Layne passed, Y/n had became the worst version of herself. No one could find her, and if they could, you couldn’t get anything across to her.

I’ll always remember the last time I spoke to her.

~

“Y/n baby- just open the door” Slash said, his head pressed against her door. “Please” Y/n sniffled “I can’t”

“Yes you can” Slash said, his own voice breaking at the sound of Y/ns weak voice “It’s okay- It’s just me”.

“Just leave Slash” Y/n said, her voice becoming harsher, she started yelling, “Get out of here” over and over again.

Slash flinched and shut his eyes when he started to hear things breaking through the door. He sighed, a tear threatening to leave his eye “Just- just calm down okay? I’ll leave”.

Sniffling, he said his goodbyes “I’ll leave Y/n okay? I love you- just call me when you can sweetheart. I love you.”

After some silence, he spoke his last words “Bye Y/n”

~

Duffs wife, Susan, was rubbing his back as I held him. In fear that he would fall onto his knees. Looking up to the sky, I didn’t know if it was me or him who was about to collapse. The pain was enough to take us both out.

My heart hurt as I stared at the box in front of me, the priest reading a bunch of prayers that I didn’t pay attention to. My heart knew that no matter what Y/n had done in her lifetime, she would be an angel.

All I heard was crying, I told my condolences to everyone. Jerry and Sean were a mess, everyone there was. Even I was, I was never much of a crier, but even through my sunglasses you could see all of the tears leaving my eyes.

The whole time i was here i felt judged, as though besides everyone’s grief, they looked at me as the man who never could love Y/n enough.

They were right, partially, I know I fucked up, but the love I felt for her was always real. The love i felt for Y/n was enough to almost make me stop breathing.

And to see this, all of the air in my lungs had slowly been leaving me.

I’ll never forget her smile, or her voice. The time we were together, happy in our own little world, and how all the times she would tell me how much she loved me was enough to make my knees buckle.

My eyes scanned everyone around me, until they landed on the dirt that was covering Y/n.

*

2005

Slash took a trip down to Seattle to go and visit Y/ns grave. He couldn’t live one more month without saying what he needed to

“I’m sorry Y/n” His voice cracked at the sight of her headstone, he had never saw it. The last time he was here was during her funeral.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you like I should’ve, I really wanted to” He cried, wiping his tears away, “I really did love you Y/n, I still do. I’ll never stop loving you. I’m so sorry” He said, his lips pressing together as his hand softly touched her headstone. “I really failed you, I’m sorry i wasn’t man enough to show you how much I loved you- I wish- I wish you were still here Y/n. Life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone” He sniffled, looking up to the sky.

Slash wasn’t the type of man to regret anything he’s done during his lifetime. But Y/n, Y/n was something that he regretted so much it made him relapse for the past two years. He never let himself feel what he was supposed to, now having kids he needed to find a way to be able to still function as a human being.

“I can’t stop saying i’m sorry- i don’t think i ever will” He sighed “I think of you everyday Y/n, you’ll always be the girl who has my heart- ever since back in ‘86- you’ll always be my girl.”

“I love you Y/n, and I will forever”

——

Im sorry

thank you guys so much for sticking with me, it means so much!!! sorry it took forfuckenever. I hope you guys enjoyed this series!!!!

All my love, gnrbitch💝

tagged: @killazilla777 @kirksfunkopop @queenboona-blog @eris-elysium @hoodiesandicedcoffee @eddiiiieeee

[camojacketfag]

when do you stop feeling like you're waiting for your life to start? im 22 and ive accomplished nothing, it feels like im at a standstill.

Well, for starters, I had a breakdown in a meijer parking lot at 8:15pm yesterday, sobbing to boygenius as I was telling myself that I’ve paused my life for the past four years to try and heal from crippling childhood trauma and therefore I haven’t really had the chance to truly have fucking fun and live life man.

My 20s have been a lot of healing and slowing down as life continues to move past me so fucking quickly. I told myself I was gonna have fun this year and instead I got my heart broken, I relapsed in my OCD, I cut ties with a shit therapist who invalidated me time and time again and I played far too many video games. Through out it all I also lost so many friendships who don’t fully understand how debilitating OCD truly is and my current social life consists mostly of imaginary conversations I have inside my head. But hey, we’re still fucking kicking! What really defines an accomplishment man? Whose timeline are you comparing yourself too? Most of the lives constantly being lived so publicly are led by neurotypical people with such big opportunities very different from lives like ours man. Therefore you’re doing yourself a disservice to try and compare your life to theirs. Acceptance is the hardest pill to swallow. I truly despise patience. Yet I also have to come to terms with the fact that I move at a much slower and methodical pace than everyone else around me. I know in the long run I’ll be grateful I decided to heal now as opposed to later but I still feel so fucking robbed man. Of time. And opportunities. And life. Time that I may never get back. Time in which others my age spent developing their careers or social relationships, I was stuck in my little room listening to sad lesbian music and having no one around but my dog and the obsessive thoughts that felt intensely unavoidable. I’d say life, or at least the life you’re talking about, will never truly start man. That life is just a piece of fiction. I guess what I’m trying to say is that life has already started, it’s just waiting for you to notice. Your perception is just warped, much like mine, but I know that although I can list all of these awful things that have happened over these past four years, I know that nudged somewhere in between it all, I’ve still lived. I saw some sick ass concerts, I gave myself my first stick and poke, I got drunk and shared to much, I allowed myself to question love and it’s mechanisms and meaning, I started a photo blog and have steadily worked towards creating what I see everyday in to something others can relate or come back to, I got punched in the face, I busted my lip trying to open a bottle of vodka, I drank to much caffeine and felt like I’d ascended to a higher state of consciousness. After I relapsed, I felt broken man. So much new trauma I’d have to go back to and stitch up all caused by trusting a professional who only made me believe that my own personal experience of the things I’d gone through was actually wrong. Yet somehow, it ended with me finally believing myself once more. And vowing to never let anyone make me feel like she did ever again. 11 years of trauma and hard work doesn’t deserve to be so easily destroyed just because you have a degree and I don’t. Still, I believed myself again. I believe myself now. And I know going forward that if we continuously compare ourselves to lives being lived that will never cross paths with ours then all we’re gonna do is spend eternity wondering when it will ever finally fucking begin. I promise you, it already has, and although I don’t know you, and you might believe that it’s been more bad than good, or that it’s not as valuable when compared to others achievements at your age, it’s still yours, and there’s still time, and it’s always been there, it’s just waiting for you to notice.

[justanotherboringwriter]

Once more, Jimcurlysuke. Except this time it's my HC that he has a tulpa-willo based off of Polle and also I've been thinking about plurality since I had a system collapse. Also if you need help regarding plurality, go to @infwctednyacifier so I can give you tips.

Jimmy sat in his room, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s so difficult, isn’t it?” A voice said in his mind. He rubbed his eyes, “Fuck, yes. Yes it’s difficult, you know this.” He sighed as he replied. “You’ve been watching me for my entire life, y’know how difficult just living is for me.” Jimmy added.

“Yes, I have. I just wanted to make conversation to try and distract you.” The voice responded. “It seems it didn’t work, unfortunately. I’m not exactly the best at dealing with human emotions.”

“I’m sure that a fucked up, extremely large horse with a few more eyes than necessary and scraggly hair isn’t the best with human emotions.” Jimmy said as he stood up, walking into his bathroom and searched through the drawers. He shoved things around, trying to find what he was searching for. “Searching for pills again, aren’t you? Those things won’t help, Jimmy.” “Just shut up already, Paden.” “You know I’m right. Why not go to Curly or Daisuke or both? You know they’re always there for you, so why ignore them? Especially Curly.”

“You need something to help you. Pills can’t. Cutting can’t. Slamming yourself around can’t. Going to Curly or Daisuke can.” Paden added. Jimmy put his head in his hands. “If you can’t, I can. Let me take over, even if partially, and I’ll take us to them.”

Jimmy started breaking down. “Please..”

He shut his eyes tight, focusing on the headspace he’d been building. Fortunately, he soon successfully entered headspace. He looked around, seeing a table in the center of a room without walls. He stood up and walked to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down, taking deep breaths.

Paden was now fronting. He stretched his fingers, curled them, and repeated the motion a few times to ensure he had full control of Jimmy’s body. He grabbed the towel bar and used it to steady himself as he pulled himself to his feet, making sure he was steady before clenching and unclenching the muscles in his legs and feet repeatedly like how he did with his hands.

He walked to the sink and looked in the mirror. It was foggy since Paden had managed to finally convinced Jimmy to shower for the first time in a while after he’d spent what felt like weeks bed rotting.

Paden got some toilet paper, rolled it up, and wiped the condensation off the mirror and looked at himself or rather Jimmy.

He walked out of the bathroom and left Jimmy’s–Correction; their–room, and went to the living room where he found Curly and Daisuke.

Curly was wearing a tank–top and shorts, his his curls in a little ponytail to hold it back, no doubt since he’d been weightlifting since he was known to like weightlifting.

Daisuke was wearing an oversized hoodie and fluffy Hello Kitty PJ bottoms, lazing on the couch.

The young man looked over, “Oh, Jimmy. Hey.” He said, practically melted into his hoodie, half awake with lidded eyes.

“I’m not Jimmy.” Paden replied.

“Huh?” Daisuke muttered, confused.

“It’s not Jimmy. Jimmy has this..‘tulpa’ of his; it’s like a weird, cryptid version of Polle. He doesn’t have a name but goes by Paden. He helps Jimmy with his day–to–day life.” Curly explained to Daisuke as he drank a bottle of water with ice inside that he’d just poured himself.

Daisuke shuffled in his spot, getting comfortable and melting further into the couch. “Uh, well hey, Paden. I’m–” “Daisuke? I’m aware. You’re both Jimmy’s unofficial partners; he values the both of you a lot, even if he doesn’t say it.” Paden said. “It’s quite the honor to speak to the people who manage to make Jimmy weak in the knees and have a man as stubborn as Jimmy comply to their wishes.”

“I’m in control of the body because Jimmy got upset recently. Life has been stressful for him and he nearly relapsed on pills but he let me take over to come to you two.” Paden added as he walked to the couch, sitting down calmly. “This is probably very shocking for the two of you but you’re the only support system Jimmy has other than the harmful vices he uses.”

Daisuke sat up, suddenly awake.

“Oh!” He said, shocked and worried.

“Uh, can Jimmy front?” He asked, “Shit–Is that offensive? I don’t really know what I can and can’t ask a system..” “I’m sure Jimmy would be more than happy to allow me back into headspace so he can talk to the both of you. But before I go, I want to thank you for this chat, although brief.”

“Uh, you’re welcome. It was nice chatting with you, Paden.” Daisuke said while Curly gave a simple nod. Paden closed his eyes and did what Jimmy did, entering headspace and switching places with Jimmy. Jimmy, once he opened his eyes, practically launched himself into the younger man’s arms.

Daisuke hugged him, burying his face into Jimmy’s shaggy hair.

“Why don’t you ever just talk to us, baby?” Daisuke mumbled, “We’re here for you.” He added as Curly walked over, holding out the bottle. Jimmy let go of Daisuke and sat up, taking the water bottle and taking a few refreshing sips before licking his lips and handing it back to the blonde Scotsman.

“I love both of you.” Jimmy shook his head.

Jimmy laid back on Daisuke, allowing himself to be held as Curly sat at the top of the couch, allowing Daisuke to rest his upper half on Curly’s lap.

The trio fell into a comfortable and content silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

[brainrotcharacters]

She Wasn’t Always Like That part 1 (It’s Not Enough)

ship: Ghost x reader

summary: Ghost knows you differently, but cares about you just as much. Maybe more. 

a/n: I’m relapsing into my cod era.

tags: sfw. angst comfort. reader is a member of 141. will they won’t they trope. reference to there’s only one bed trope. Ghost would rather die than acknowledge feeling feelings and honestly mood. 

part 2

She wasn't always like that.

Ghost knew that people didn't believe him when he describes you this way. They could never imagine the only woman of the 141, trained in espionage and assassination, as anything but sunlight given human form when you're off duty. You told Ghost you didn't mind, but he found the need to mention it regardless.

"Why?" You ask him at some point, handing him another washed plate to towel off. When he only stared at you sidelong, you continued. "I mean, why do you want people to know what I was like... before?"

You always sounded so ashamed, so uncomfortable, when you spoke about 'before'. As if keeping other people at arm's length because the alternative meant you were in danger was such an embarrassing way of thinking.

Put that way, Ghost was guilty of being inspired by you. The world knows you, but they don't know you, and it makes his skin crawl. But the words got cut up on the way out his mouth. He finished drying off the plate in his hands, placing it on the nearby rack. "Do you want me to stop?"

You blinked once. Unguarded, but intelligent eyes― the only times Ghost saw fear in those eyes was through camera feeds when he was separated from you, or when you were in active spy work. "I want to understand.”

He took in a breath, shoulders lifting slightly. How to say it? Better yet, how to say it without you catching on to him? Knowing you, you'd be too fucking quick with it.

You only angled your head at him, waiting patiently. Kindly.

Fuckin' hell. "You're happy running around with the boys here, yeah? For all your whinin' about Johnny, you'd kill for the man." 

"I already have," you chuckle, reaching for a mug. 

Right. Ghost's eyes tracked the way your hand gripped the cup. Firmly. "You'd be a hell of a lot happier if they didn't take your performance at face value."

Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" 

"It's not enough, sweetheart.”

The tone of his voice was tense and unusual enough that you turned away from the sink to look at him. "They don't know what it takes for you to keep laughin' about with them. Fuck, they don't even know how much it takes you to get out of bed in the morning." 

Your eyes softened. As the person beside me in that bed, you'd know.

Ghost didn't look away. I do. "They rattle on and on about how good you are, how strong or how kind. I agree. Believe me, I'm with them. But..." 

Your thumbs slide over the now-scrubbed mug. Squeaky clean. You hand it to him, and he takes it, all too grateful for a reason to break eye contact. "Dude, I don't mind the opinions of the outside world. Yours is enough." 

Something in your mind clicked into place. It's not enough. I am not enough.

Ghost saw the realization flicker in your eyes, and rushed to speak before you managed to ask him about jealousy or self-pity or some bullshit like that. "I don't want to see you burn yourself out, is all." 

"Oh, I will." You laughed cynically. "And when I finally burn out―"

"Y/n, say if. Not when―" 

"Simon, when I burn out," you lift a serving spoon between you and him. Your hand visibly trembled. "I want you with me. The laughing and the jokes are nice, but I've been looking inward these days. Sooner than I'd like, I'm going to burn out. When that happens, I hope you're nearby." you twist the spoon in your fingers, handle facing Simon. "No pressure, but I don't know what I'll do if you aren't." 

Though he was still reeling at the sound of his name, he plucked the piece of cutlery from your grasp and toweled it off. "The thing about you and me: if I'm not with you, then it means one thing. I'm on my way." 

A small, affectionate smile lit up your face, or maybe that was the sunlight from the open window several feet behind him. The sky had the fucking audacity to have correct fucking timing― 

The door burst open, and a gaggle of your sisters-in-arms, plus Gaz, pushed through. "Y/N! Ghost, can we steal Y/N from you for a bit?" 

It was a rhetorical question; whatever you and him were, no one knew the entire story, and no one asked. Maybe Ghost was getting tired of people not understanding you the way he did, the same way they didn't understand what he was with you. Maybe not.

Simple as that, your practiced smile appeared, and you hollered. "LADIES! I told you not to bring goddamn Kyle into this." 

An outraged noise from the young man had you giggling. "Jokes, jokes. Let's go. Ah, hey Ghost?"

He turned.

"Thank you." you smiled, eyes shining. 

Ghost paused. Then nodded once. 

When the door closed behind you, and the noise of friends enjoying your performance faded away, the image and sound of you burned in his memory. 

God fucking damnit.  

[imtooscaredforthis]

So Two Murderers Walk Into A Room…

Chapter Two: Deny Deny Deny

Mentions of: Denial, Discussion of Murder, Homicidal Tendencies, Past Drug Addiction, Knives, Mental illness, etc.

Tags: @vandeaad @dead-bxxxtch-walking @stwbwwychan @mama-miya @moonshineinasippycup

You woke up with a horrible hangover. You felt all groggy, your head throbbing, the nausea you were experiencing unbearable. Fuck, you’re going to be sick.

As you gagged, you heard a voice from behind call, “bucket, to your right.” Managing to grab the bucket and pull it close to you, you held on for dear life as you vomited. Hands pulled your hair back and out of your face as you did so.

Once you felt good enough, you lifted your head from the bucket, taking long deep breaths. “Thanks, Eric.”

“I’m not Eric.” You felt like a bucket of ice was poured over you as you realized. Eric is dead. So who’s hands are in your hair? Who’s talking to you?

Looking over your shoulder, your eyes met with mesh black holes of a weeping ghost mask, staring at the masked man kneeling behind you. “Surprise.”

The next thing you knew, your fight or flight had kicked in, and you let out a loud shrill shriek, crawling away from him. “What the fuck?! Who are you? What are you doing? Where am I?”

“Well, from what I heard, you killed your fiancé and his mistress, and then somehow wound up here in The Entity’s realm.” He replied.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You denied the accusation. Who is this man and how does he know that? Did someone tell him? But no one knows. Did you tell him?

Whoever he was, he wasn’t with the cops. But how did you know he couldn’t tell anyone, especially after he just told you? You can’t let this man go. You have to do something about this. But what?

“Oh, but I think you do.” He remarked. Shit. Shit. Shit. You need to get rid of him.

You scanned your surroundings. You were in the living room of some random house, sitting beside a fireplace. Unfortunately, you had no weapons nearby, but you did spot a glint of a knife from his pocket.

“Quit plotting.” He said, as if he could somehow read your mind. “What?”

“You really think I can’t see those gears turning in your pretty little head? You’re trying to figure out how you can get rid of me. It’s a shame that’s not going to happen. I would’ve enjoyed seeing you put up a fight. Anyways, rather than trying to kill me, sit back and listen to what I have to say, okay?” He ordered.

You did as told, surprised by his words. How did he know? How could he read you so well? This is weird. It’s never happened to you before.

“You’re not in your normal world. You never will be. You’ve been taken to another dimension by an ancient deity. There are two roles, survivors and killers. Clearly, you got picked as a killer. Your job is to hunt down survivors and stop them from escaping, and sacrifice them to The Entity.”

You stared at him. He’s crazy. He has to be. That or you’re on drugs and imagining this. But normally your highs weren’t like this. You wouldn’t create your own world that had such a complex system. You wouldn’t be able to.

Plus, you hadn’t relapsed in years. Sure, your self-destructive tendencies have started to return ever since you and Eric started fighting, but you didn’t want to go on the hard stuff, and you still don’t.

You looked down at your hands, seeing if they were still there, not shaking, emitting rays, or covered in blood. “What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I’m tripping on acid.” You replied, staring at your hands a little longer, before looking at him.

“Okay, I know this all sounds crazy and hard to believe, but it’s the truth. But look on the bright side. You’re a murderer, I’m a murderer, and we can do what we love for eternity.”

“I’m not a murderer! You’re crazy!” You denied, growing defensive.

He groaned in annoyance. “Still in the denial phase, I see. It’s a waste of time to keep lying to yourself, so you might as well just confess now. You’ll admit it eventually.”

“You’re wrong and crazy. I mean, what sane person dresses up like…that?” You gestured to his outfit.

“I can say the same for you. I mean, hiking gear and pajamas don’t mesh well. This is what professionals wear, sweetheart. The Professionals and legends that make you stay awake at night just from the thought of this mask. ” He raved. God, he needs to get over himself.

Suddenly, you felt a strange pulling sensation at the back of your head. It surprised you, but wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable. “Oooh, seems like you’re getting called to your first trial.”

“I’m not going to kill anybody.” You persisted, that pulling sensation growing stronger. As the world around you started to fade to black you heard him mutter. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

–

When you reopened your eyes, you were standing in the middle of a cornfield. There was that familiar feeling of adrenaline and bloodlust you got, but you hadn’t killed anyone. But you wanted to.

And if what that masked creep said was true, then there’s nothing stopping you. You can kill whoever you want. You can unleash the thing inside you that you’ve spent your whole life locked away.

In your hand was a Damascus hunting knife. It was your favorite from your favorite murder. You adored the knife and all the cute designs it had engraved on it. It was beautiful, and you were so heartbroken when you had to throw it out.

Now, you have it, and you can keep it forever. So why not put it to use?

The next thing you knew, you were wandering the farm, searching for someone to use it on. Spotting a small blonde woman, you grinned to yourself. Perfect.

Before your brain could even process it, you were moving, chasing after the woman, once she spotted you and started running away. It wasn’t your favorite type of killing, but it still was very enjoyable.

Hunting your prey, catching them, and making them pay dearly. It wasn’t long until you got her down on the ground, and carried her over to a butcher hook, slinging her body onto it.

You stared at her for a moment with sadistic satisfaction, admiring your work, before realizing what you had done. What you still want to do.

Shit. He was right.

[monstersinthecosmos]

I think what makes this whole situation even worse for Armand is that he only has one (1) fledging. There is literally no point of reference about anything when it comes to him and Daniel except for Armand’s past experiences with Marius which in SOME ways are similar to what Armand and Daniel went through but in other ways they’re completely different experiences. Lestat, Marius and pretty much all of the other main vampires in the series (even Louis even though RIP to both those cuties) have a whole roaster of fledglings to develop different types of relationships with and over the series, they allow them to grow and change and feed off each other, but Armand *only* has Daniel, so it must be legitimately maddening because all the good and the bad and the crazy is just… one relationship for Armand. And it’s obviously a position he put himself in by obsessing over and falling in love with Daniel so hopelessly to the point where he couldn’t even consider continuing existing without him. And then he cursed them both. But I think that in finding himself and regaining his will to live and to have meaningful connections in late canon, he was also able to accept Daniel’s love again, and maybe to start having important conversations about the trauma they both went through when Daniel was turned and after they separated. I’d like to think they didn’t just reunite in PL and immediately jumped right back into a relationship like two stupid teenagers but actually had Important Conversations about what they’d gone through before Daniel moved into Trinity Gate and they decided to give it another go. NYC has great therapists and they’re rich so, please? 🙏

[ dgajksdg I waited too long to answer this bc I was too sad but just for reference icymi I got this ask after posting this devastating shit ]

fuck man!!!!!!

yes! YES.

(I feel like I don’t have a lot to add except that I’m bawling my fuckin eyes out so hear me out for a sec)

It’s just like, man Armand is so fuckin tragic you know? There’s so much nature/nurture to think about when you look at the others but it’s like, he was SO deeply traumatized for his early years I’m not surprised he couldn’t even try. I bring this up from time to time but it’s like, his time with Marius was so brief in the scheme of things, and even if his turning itself or the small amount of time he had with Marius wasn’t traumatic, the fallout was ENOUGH. And like, to relapse back into a cult after being with Marius makes me wonder if he convinced himself that those years were like, an abomination or a mistake, even if his actual turning itself wasn’t awful.

Then you look at someone like Lestat, who was also super traumatized by the way he was turned, and simply will not fucking stop making fledglings because he’s so lonely and has no impulse control and can’t cope with the concept of losing people. I think the two of them are both so desperate for companionship and still approach it so differently because of their personalities. And even without turning people I just think like, Armand has dealt with so much rejection? It's hard enough to get people to stick around when they're already vampires, like, why would he invest in a human at this point.

So yeah it’s just, it fucks me up every day of my life that Daniel is the only one for him.

I think a lot about the “Remember then that it was love” convo with Marius and how like, Armand seems to have made steady progress in his relationships over the years. Like, acting like less of an animal, being more present with people, etc. And it finally settles on Daniel and repeats some of the Venice stuff.

The irony too of how he GOT Daniel there by being a fucking predator at first; same with how Marius chose Armand because he had no innate value anymore as a person, no one would miss him, every day Marius gave him was a bonus and he was living on borrowed time. Daniel’s life sort of ends the night he meets Louis and Armand harasses him to the point of completely isolating him and fucking up his whole life. In that way he’s at rock bottom with nothing else to lose, also on borrowed time, nowhere to go but up.

Anyway sdhgkjlasg boy yeah they have so much to talk about and like. I think there’s enough anecdotes about vampires who go mad and don’t recover, and it’s promising to me that Daniel DOES recover. And I want them to speak and heal and I hope they both respect how fucking special it is that Daniel is The One.

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

I'm not sure how closely this one follows the prompt, but alas I was inspired *by* the prompt and that's how this whole thing works right? Thank you so much for all the continued support on these! We are in the home stretch! (I also didn't proof read this one, like at all so if it makes even less sense than usual that's why)

WARNINGS: Discussions of past drug abuse, and speculation that Fictional!Matty has relapsed (he has not)

27. Ringing bells

Matty was missing and George was losing his mind. The warning bells had gone off ringing that morning even if he hadn’t realized that’s what they were at the time. Matty had been moody, more subdued, snapping at anyone who dared acknowledge him, scratching at his arms and fidgeting as he moved eggs around on his plate without actually eating them. George had found himself growing irritated at him, they didn’t deserve his abuse. Matty had snapped that he was fine and to lay the fuck off when Ross had asked how he was doing. I’m not going to run off and get high, Matty had snarled, you can stop looking at me like that. 

He had pushed his plate away, his phone still sitting on the hotel restaurant table. “I need a cigarette,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.” 

That had been three hours ago, and no one had seen Matty since. George wondered if he had left his phone on purpose, knowing he was easily trackable via Find My Friends. George regretted not standing up, not chasing after him with an I'll join you. But he had been thankful, in the moment for the relief, the ability to roll his eyes at Ross, commiserating over Matty’s antics without the man in question to see them. Soon dread filled his belly as the minutes ticked by and Matty didn’t return. George knew they were all thinking it, even if no one dared speak it outloud. 

“I’ll just call him,” said Ross, “make sure he didn’t get trapped talking to a fan or something.” That’s when they realized his phone was sitting on the table. The screen lit up, the device vibrating silently as the line rang.  

He wasn’t in their hotel room, he wasn’t in the fitness center or the garden. The woman at the front desk was unsure if she had seen anyone matching Matty’s description leave through the front doors. George wanted to cry. They had been doing so well. Things had been going so well. Matty had been doing better. He knew that being back on tour was hard for him, the come down from the admiration of a roaring crowd to the silent isolation of a nondescript hotel room giving him whiplash. He knew that Matty still fought cravings every day, but he met with his therapist bi weekly and was making an active effort to stay healthy, to stay clean.

He needed to call Jamie, he needed to call Tim and Denise. He felt like a failure, he was supposed to be the one keeping an eye on Matty, keeping him safe and instead he had lost him. Matty disappearing to god knows where and getting into god knows what. He was Matty’s partner, Matty was his other half. He saw the signs, he knew that Matty was having a bad morning and instead of treating him with compassion he met him with annoyance. 

They walked through the ground floor of the hotel a third time, growing desperate. George wanted him to be in the hotel, wanted him to be sitting just outside some little side door rather than out in the world where anything could happen to him.

“DON’T LET THE DOOR CLOSE,” Matty shouted and George blinked, not actually expecting to find him sitting on a small loading dock, surrounded by a twelve foot fence topped with barbed wire like he was imprisoned. 

“Matty?” George asked in disbelief, standing in the doorway, holding it open with his body as Matty flung himself into George’s arms. 

“I came out for a cigarette,” said Matty, he was crying, tears of relief George realized. He blinked, shocked to find he was crying too. “The door shut behind me and locked, and I didn’t have my phone.” 

“You’re okay,” said George, running his hand down Matty’s back, the words a mix of comfort and vocalizing his own relief. “You’re okay.” 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26