#I'm just sick of feeling like this
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alright, this one's a little more silly
#this chapbook needs 15 poems#I have 11 finished 😤#and they're in narrative order! so the first poem (this) comes before Belphie's birth#and then we go through him falling sick#and RECOVERING!!! 💃#I'm a little unsure if this one's as strong though.....I feel like the best ones are in the middle of the book#(which is bad if I'm trying to sell it to a publisher bc they might just stop reading)#belphegor
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there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)
i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.
i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.
and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.
HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.
now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.
my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.
i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.
by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!
keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"
similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."
the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"
if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.
the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.
godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.
the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.
#this is objectively bad advice#don't listen to it protect yourself and do real work on yourself find one of the good posts i've made about this#but also. u know. if u want to have fun while u do the work of setting boundaries#.... it IS fun#i will say that my fear of him went SO down after i just started. fucking with him.#bc i used to get SO fucking upset#i'd spend WEEKS arguing with him. tearing my hair out. sick with anxiety and dread and anger about all of it#and now i just LITERALLY do not engage#instead i'm like '' haha :) mole people" and get the HELL out of any tense conversation#i kind of think some of these people are literally addicted to drama as a form of connection#they like the rush they get from arguing#but those arguments are incredibly damaging for me#so like..... i am in the process of literally rehabilitating this person to figure out how to find connection thru#NORMAL CONVERSATION#he doesn't get it yet#i also do talk to them like they're preschool kids lmafo . ''are you using a safe and kind voice right now?''#'' do you need a snackie? you sound a little upset. let's have some hummus and come back to playtime when we feel ready''
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i'm in one of those phases where i really wish i believed in manifesting and spellcasting and things like that bc you know when you want something so bad you're literally praying for the universe to let it happen
#ramble#this is not me judging by the way i think it's cool as fuck i just don't do it personally#context: a lot of my 'dream jobs' are now just 'ways to make money that i might not absolutely hate'#but i have one (1) legit dream job and it's literally FINGERTIPS away from me right now#i feel like most people who know me can guess what it is and know how badly i want it#i'm not even letting myself daydream about it or talk about it too much because i'm so afraid of not getting it and being disappointed#and also i don't want to like. jinx it#i've tried so many times before but this is the closest i've ever been and i feel SICK i want to bite something
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2024 Brazilian GP | x
#franco colapinto#autumn posts#I'm so conflicted about all the rumors!!#I want him to have a spot for 2025!! but rbr is kinda falling apart!! and we've seen how especially callous they can be 😢#I miss Daniel so much 🥺 I've been on my usual insta dives and everytime I see vcarb I still pause out of habit#still I agree with so many folks that its good he got away from rbr who never were going to give him the respect and opportunities!!#so I worry for Franco!!!#and poor Max gosh this FiA balogna and the car just not performing 🥲#tbh I've been hiding in like 2017 posts just soaking up content I missed from bygone days!#I spam my sideblog verstappen100 if anyone wants like mostly Daniel throwback yearning hehe 🙂↕️#idk the vibes feel off this GP especially so like...idk how to explain it!!#but anyways I think I'm just new and I'm sick irl so just kinda stewing in the feels#nothing some gifs can't fix 🙂↕️#and I have to work tomorrow 🥲 but then!!! freedom!!!#anyways just rambling...#I like to hide in the tags and the side blog but I know that#hiding how I feel is blocking me from making true connections in fandom!!#I worry I'll say something silly or something#but maybe I should be more brave instead of hiding#oh anyways!!!#if you're reading all this!! thank you! hehe nothing huge just feeling dumping before slumber 😴#I hope all is well!!#sending good energy out to Franco on such a hard weekend#and to Daniel hopefully chilling and dreaming up something excellent 💞#and to y'all!! have a good night morning and afternoon!! 🌙☀️☁️#going to add a few more photos before I go!!
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I started drawing this next day after I finished Act 6
13 or so days and it's finished!
Main things are traditional and Loop's body was edited digitally after
Unedited it looks like this
I've been torn on how to do Loop's body for the entirety of lining, also
A bit sad the main lines are visible only as a wip, most of this thing is literally just a ton of sharp lines
I think it's also my first day of drawing, Loop is just a sketch here (feat. my leg)
I even finished the beans before it so they were a moral support, because if you let me things like this take a year
#fanart#my art#isat#isat fanart#in stars and time#isat loop#loop#traditional art#artists on tumblr#Phew#So anyway this was my way of figuring out my thoughts after finishing the game#I didn't even actually finish it with credits playing at that moment#This type of art is my therapy#And in a way literally how my personality works from big figures to small details of thinking about anything#It's really calming!#I won't tag paper figures but they're here#Like special guests#In any case the funniest thing was showing this to my English teacher and she was like 'wow this looks stressed' or something#Like she immediately looked at the lines and after I showed her my old Flowey drawing like this she was like#'oh it makes sense! This one looks calm but this one is clearly you not feeling good'#Because I was kinda#Like sitting there in the semi-park and feeling sick since morning before I started drawing this and slowly I got better#I already talked about this on my first 'big' isat thing - I needed to think a bit#And not think at the same time just literally letting myself sort stuff out#Like. I fell asleep at 6 am that day and woke up at 10 4 hours of sleep after playing full Act 5 and two hats stuff IS STRESSFUL#SUPER STRESSFUL! Like I felt like I was playing for 4 hours while sleeping#Anyway by the time I finished it aka today I'm feeling way better and I'm literally talking a walk right now#Touching grass as we speak#Anyway phew!#Now to that animatic that's plaguing my mind to draw it nowww
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DEAD POETS SOCIETY (1989) dir. Peter Weir
#neilperryedit#robert sean leonard#dpsedit#deadpoetssocietyedit#dps#dead poets society#neil perry#useraish#tuserkaren#mialook#usernivi#tusermiles#userrlaura#dailyflicks#*mine#*mygifs#but he doesn't know ! because he doesn't even really know neil#not to take what i said in my lane edit but it's literally trying so hard to be this person that your parents want you to be !#like your parent will never see you how you actually are because they're so busy trying to force you to be this whole other person#the tragedy that is neil perry will never not get to me like i'm sick to my stomach and i am crying my eyes out#he tried he tried so hard to be his best and he just wanted this one thing for himself#also this scene is lowkey my enemy bc i hate coloring it#i feel like it always looks kind off ?
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trying to interact with cis woman-centric feminist media as a trans man (especially a gnc trans man) is a simultaneously bizarre and exhausting experience lmao. do you know how offputting it is to read about how men are the root of all evils in the world and how they'll never understand what it's like to be a woman when you literally have boobs and wear dresses and look far more like barbie than you ever will ken like please motherfucker i don't think i'm incapable of understanding your experiences actually. el oh el
#also trans men are not the only people to experience things deemed as 'woman specific' obviously#i just feel like we're the most obvious flaw in that line of reasoning#how can you look at someone who was raised the way you were your whole life and not understand that they may have been where you were befor#the way cis women refuse to make space for us is just so tiring like i'm genuinely so sick of it lmao#transandrophobia#transmisandry#marshy speaks
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what was the point of lila thinking home was a feeling she didn't deserve and could never earn until she found diego. what was the point of them finding deep, meaningful love in each other. what was the point of lila opening her heart and confessing that all she really wanted was a family with him.
what was the point of developing diego and lila over two seasons, creating such a beautiful, chaotic bond, just to destroy it for no reason.
#the umbrella academy#diego x lila#lila pitts#diego hargreeves#what was the point!!!!!!#isn't it great when there's no character resolution and everyone just gets erased from existence#instead of giving us emotional closure they just added more pain and trauma and called it a day#what was it all for exactly. to give the handler a peaceful happy life of all people#don't even get me started on the bracelet or that awful pointless love triangle#steve blackman is gross and so is the way he talks about lila like she's not even a character in her own right but just an afterthought#someone who was there to pair with five while diminishing all that she is#five needed a love story so they just shoved lila into that role as if she were some random accessory to five's story#rather than her own character with thoughts and feelings#a woman's entire character arc is ruined just to give a guy a love interest#i feel sick#i've already mentioned some of this on twitter but whatever#as you can probably guess i'm not going to gif this so-called new season#lila deserved better. diego deserved better. we deserved better
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I see a lot of people in the Mouthwashing tag frequently listing 'keeping Curly alive' in the list of crimes Jimmy has done, implying or sometimes outright saying that not mercy-killing Curly was a cruel and unusual act...and would like to caution against that.
There's a long history of abled people deciding someone's quality of life is too horrible to merit letting them live (usually to nonverbal or otherwise 'low functioning' people lacking a clear means to communicate) and condoning the murder of disabled people under the guise of kindness. Curly is an extreme example, and one could argue he might prefer to be 'put out of his misery,' but it's important to note that we don't know, no one asks, and there's no attempt to communicate either which way.
How extreme pain and 'low quality of life' are handled are very nuanced and complicated topics, but you can never decide for someone else what kind of life isn't 'worth living.' Curly is obviously a videogame character, but these attitudes can and do affect the lives of real people & are worth being aware of.
#I say this as a disabled person who has heard ''I could never live if [condition] happened to me'' and claims my life was over#and all sorts of shit that made me think everyone would jump at the chance to put me down like a sick dog#just hits close to home so wanted to type a gentle word of caution#there's also a lot to be said about the history of disability rights and how DNRs have been used to purge us in hospitals#but i won't get into all of that for a fandom post#idk if i wrote this out well bc I'm trying not to get too In My Feelings about it but. yea#sometimes people deal with exceuciating pain & disability but would still very much like to live thank you#Mouthwashing
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On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?
*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)
*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)
(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )
(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)
#polls#tumblr polls#I'm mostly in the 0/1 - 25$ category. Maybe the rare month is a bit over $25 if there's something specific going on like birthday.#Which I'm NEVER eating in an actual restaurant (erm... covid... plus I just hate restaurant environments. i would rather pickup#the food and bring it home to a peaceful quiet environment that I control lol). But more typically like stopping by a grocery store deli#section or something. I don't have coffee that much. And I can't eat fast food much due to my health issues/diet restriction stuff#so if I'm out like coming back from an appointment and I start feeling really sick and weak. I know that a hamburger will just#blow up my system and cause nausea or something. So I try to pick the breadiest most#neutral looking turkey sandwich at the safeway deli to eat during the hour ride home or whatever lol#I actually kind of wish I could do stuff like get food more often vecause it would take the burden of cooking everything off of me#but.. alas... Money... and Health Things... T o T#I still wouldn't do it ALL the time but like... once a week instead of once a month or something.. or maybe turning into a coffee#person.. I do love drinks A LOT .. i am a drink person who will have 5 different drinks sipping on at all times#But i just have to make them all myself mostly lol#And I cant really have too much coffee since it will make me sick. so like.. teas and juice mostly#When I inevitably become a millionaire by never using social media never networking and only finishing one#sculpture every 5 months which I dont even post about or sell - then I shall... get more drinks..#I will somehow wean my body onto coffee and drink one a day solely for the ritual of it#Though even then... I would still probably just like.. buy the mateirals to make it at home or something#Like if you had a million dollars you could just buy a kitchen grade ice cream machine and other stuff to make your own milkshakes and#coffees and smoothies and bubble teas. Genuinely I think even if I were a BILLIONAIRE I would still look at playing likr $8 for a single#coffee and go .. uh.... I could just buy the equipment to make this and then save that money. PLUS. its in my house now so no need to#have to leave. I can make my own drinks in the comfort of home. .. ideal..#Like no matter how rich I ever got I would still have the lingering scroogey stinginess. like i am NOT paying for that. I will jus#make it myself. Especially if it was an Everyday thing. Anythign thats part of my routine I try to optimize and make as efficient as#possible... ANYWAY.. In an IDEAL world I would get treats. but probably not that much. as on a daily basis it would start to get#to me and I would just save up to buy kitchen machinery if I was rich lol
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Steddie soulmate drabble (shared pain) || 3.9k words || rating: E || tags: homophobic slurs, period-typical homophobia, physical and emotional distress, panic attacks, Canon-divergent soulmate AU, Eddie Munson Whump, Steve Harrington Whump, one brief sex scene (so so brief) between Steve and the girl he brought to the basketball game in S4
Eddie experienced his first soul pain at twelve years old. Younger than most, but not worryingly so. The concern was the intensity of the pain. His momma held him tight, shushed him as he cried about how he feels all alone, doing her best to reassure him that loneliness wasn’t his and that she would never hit him. She held the frozen bag of peas to the blossom of red on his soft, round cheek and rocked him until he fell asleep in her arms.
The pains continued, giving him headaches on and off for years. He always wondered what his Half was going through for Eddie to have this much soul pain before puberty, but he grew used to it, stashing tiny vials of aspirin in his backpack or jacket pocket. The intensity was never as bad as the first time, eventually decreasing to a dull ache when they cropped up. His momma told him stories about people who could temper their pain to spare their other half, a difficult feat for even adult souls who’d spent years bound together. It was more likely the pain for his other half was dulling over time. He hoped it was true, but couldn’t push away the uneasiness he felt lying in bed each night and knowing the feeling wasn’t his.
Eddie was fourteen the first time he felt his own pain connect to his Half. Daddy called him a fag and locked him in his room for the weekend with nothing but the snacks and water bottle in his backpack. Unlike a sharp slap or the break of a bone, the pain of hunger was slow to build. Eddie still felt the tell-tale pop in the back of his mind as his stomach cramped. Unexpectedly, he also felt something almost akin to surprise riding the coattails of the pain. When the surprise faded into a distant comfort, he couldn’t object. Eddie knew this wasn’t normal, and decided from then on out to keep his soul pains a secret.
After his momma died, and his daddy grew drunk and violent, Eddie couldn’t stop his pain from connecting like he knew his Half could. Even after he’d moved in with Wayne, everything from the smallest shove to hushed slurs passed through the invisible bond, and even though pain connections can’t be controlled, most people only sent their most intense pains. It felt like he sent everything. Any little thing that set him off, the signature crack followed by soft comfort settled in his mind.
The only consolation was that he felt less and less of his Half’s pain. Eddie wished that’d meant his Half was happy, with no pain to speak of. Between the dullness of the sensations when he happened to notice, and the immediate comforting response he received at his own suffering, he doubted that was it.
At sixteen Eddie had started looking into what it meant to experience some sort of response after connections, but couldn’t find anything in the low budget collection of soulmate information at Hawkins’ Public Library. Most likely on the banned book list, he figures, since that’s something kids are supposed to learn at home.
Eddie couldn’t help wondering if the stories about Empaths were real. Rare, with absolutely nothing to do with pairings, it’s rumored Empaths experience the emotions of anyone physically close to them, but more importantly, are able to control the intensity of their own emotions and pain as how it’s experienced through their bond. Eddie’s couldn’t find anything about actually sending feelings through the bond as some kind of response. But like with his Daddy, he knows what happens after asking too many questions, so he keeps it to himself.
Eddie’s almost eighteen when there’s an intense, piercing crack behind his eyes. He’d been on his way back from the picnic table out behind school when the sudden pain had him curled up on the forest floor completely out of breath. It took him a few moments to get his bearings back, but he managed to walk to the van and get home.
Wayne made him soup that night, let him put whatever he wanted on TV as long as he held the bag of peas over his bruised eye. At least it was light in color, barely noticeable, and would most likely fade by morning. However it was only a few hours later when shot off like a bullet from the couch, falling to the carpet on his hands and knees. He could hear Wayne saying something to him, could feel the gentle circling of his uncle’s hand on his back. None of it mattered.
Eddie was filled with adrenaline. He’d never had a panic attack before, but his heart pounded as his breaths came in short spurts, the pungent fear squeezing his stomach. His hands vibrated and he clutched the carpet in a white knuckle grip to stave the phantom sensation. After what felt like hours, entirely wrung-out, Wayne let him have two shots of whiskey before climbing into bed.
It was quiet for another year. Unless, of course, he counted his own soul pains that crossed over, which he tried not to. Eddie’s emotions felt more in control of him than the other way around. Pressed into lockers, a scuffle at the picnic table with Hagan, being roughly kissed and then immediately knocked to the ground by Hargrove. It all connected. He tried to temper it, to be strong like his Half, but he always failed. Eddie was a coward, too scared to handle his pain alone. Like clockwork, the warm reassurance of love was quick to follow.
It was November 1984 the first time Eddie thought he was going to die. The panic set in, but unlike a year ago, it didn’t go away. He paced the living room, violently wiping tears from his face because even though the pain wasn’t his, the distress was so palpable he broke into cold sweats. Eddie did everything he could to think of to stave off the adrenaline– jumping jacks, whipping his hands around like a mad-man, screaming his voice hoarse.
Uncle Wayne suggested exercise, reminding him most athletes’ Half’s were people with an abnormal intensity of emotions and chronic pain, since it helps them process the constant stream of excess energy. So for the first time in Eddie Munson’s life, he went for a run.
They started out at a jog, but it wasn’t enough. It felt worse than curling into himself on the ground like a pillbug. The only relief he felt was at a dead sprint, able to focus on the burn of his underutilized muscles. They ran until the adrenaline trickled from his system, and as always, was followed with love and comfort.
Halfway through their third lap around the park, an intense dread hit Eddie so abruptly he fell to his knees and vomited. They’d just made it back inside when Eddie’s vision went white. He came to only a few moments later, as Wayne hauled him across the kitchen and dropped him onto his bed. He held his mouth closed tighter than a vise, keeping every sob and groan deep inside himself to stop it from exploding out of him. Worried he wouldn’t be able to stop sobbing once he started. Wayne watched in horror as purple bloomed across Eddie’s face in real time, like a dye spreading under the skin. He placed a cold, wet cloth over his nephew’s eyes.
Early into the morning, once the crying stopped, the migraine leveled out, he followed his uncle out onto the front porch to share a joint. The swelling in both eyes went away after two days, and he went back to school as usual.
He noticed Harrington looked pretty fucked up, definitely worse than Hargrove. A panicked, fleeting part of Eddie’s brain worried Hargrove could be his Half, but he knew better. There’s always at least some amount of chemistry and attraction between soulmates, and all he needed was the one, ill-fated kiss to remind him his Half was still out there. Kudos to The King’s Half, however. If The Hair himself wasn’t at the hospital, then his Half surely would be. With a face like that, he can only imagine the pain Harrington’s soulmate had to manage during that fight.
It’s the fourth of July, and it’d been almost eight months since the last time he experienced this level of pain. Not his own, of course. No it never seemed to be his own when he’s left gasping for air, nails clenched into Wayne’s hand in the back of an ambulance they can’t afford.
He felt the bruises explode across his face, on his sides, behind his eyes. A sharp stab of pain in his neck lit up every nerve in his body. The howl ripped from him was grotesque, animalistic. His back arched up from the bed, thrashing his limbs into the metal bars of the stretcher until the medics did their best to restrain him. A pinch on the back of his hand. The world started to slow until he was wrapped in heavy darkness.
Four days later there were still yellow, mottled stains on the sides of his ribcage and dark bags under his eyes. A routine of Tylenol during the day and painkillers from his own stash at night helped. Every night, Eddie layed in bed and silently cried. Their pain mixed now and the thought haunted him as much as it comforted. He only wished he could help his Half the same way they always soothed him.
The guilt of his failure to help ate away at him, so it connects. Of course Eddie couldn’t control his emotions enough to spare the person who’s actually hurting, injured with no pain meds to help them, if Eddie had to guess. To top it all off, the cherry on the shit cake was that there's still the warm comfort at the back of his mind. His Half was living in excruciating pain, yet used what little energy they had left to help him with his.
Eventually, Eddie had asked Wayne about different types of connections between Halfs. Not surprisingly he knew a bit more about it than the library, and didn’t hit him for it like his Daddy.
“Each Half is meant to balance out the whole. Most people live somewhere near the middle, mild pain and mild emotional distress.” Eddie nodded, rapt with attention as Wayne continued. “But there’s always gonna be people at the fringes, the extremes. Like how I told ya about athletes usually being paired to trauma survivors. Why d’ya think you’re always so damn depressed after your incidents?” When Eddie had mentioned the soothing presence, Wayne had replied, “yep, sounds like an Empath,” like it was nothing to be ashamed of.
“Wait,” Eddie interrupted, “so the only reason I’m so emotional is because my half is an Empath? Or is it because they get hurt all the time. And if I'm so emotional, does that mean they're athletic?” Questions flooded his mind before Wayne cut him off.
“Could be because you were so young for your first connection. Could be because the severity of their pain made you feel it more. Or, maybe you were born that way, made that way for each other– destiny and all that.”
The pain lessened. The comfort remained. And Eddie felt the whisper of love each morning he woke up and every night before he fell asleep.
~~~ ~~~
Hands underneath Brenda’s shirt, her tongue moving across his bottom lip, anticipation glistens across Steve’s open chest as he grinds down into her. She moans into the kiss and runs her finger tips over his shoulders, grazing her nails down his back. Goosebumps erupt over his skin. He’s panting into her open mouth when his thrusts turn erratic, desperate and rushed. Her legs wrap around him, she crosses her ankles to pull him in closer and a moan crawls from the depths of his chest. His abs clench, hurtling towards his climax when he’s interrupted by the signature pop of a soul pain behind his eyes.
A cold sweat travels down his spine, adrenaline punching him in the gut. Horror claws Steve’s throat, he can’t seem to catch his breath as he hurriedly pulls out of her and falls to the floor. She’s saying something he can’t make out through the screaming urge to leave, run, hide. With enough faculties to grab his clothes on the way out, he dashes into the night where the chilled March air cools his sweat soaked skin. Distress clouds his mind on the drive home, so he pushes comfort, pleading with them to relax, breathe. The pain fades, but only slightly.
The next day, Steve parks outside of a boat house. He doesn’t know Eddie Munson well, outside of the table top tirades and the glowing accolades from Dustin, Lucas, and Mike. They’ve never been friendly, even sometimes slightly antagonistic when Munson’s not satisfied with ranting about the government and decides he needs an actual face to point the finger at. No one better than The King, apparently.
Steve played the role of snotty royalty to appease his shitty friends, but Eddie’s rants were contagious and always left Steve buzzing and manic. Of course Steve had thought about it before. Let himself wonder if his Half was some nice, pretty suburban girl, or if his Half was actually a crazed super senior he had absolutely nothing in common with. It was easier to consider the residual energy just a side effect of being an Empath, and not because he could actually feel Eddie’s emotions in his own subconscious.
Robin told him about a Zine where she’d read it was possible for Empaths to absorb emotions from people in the same physical space as him, but they would have to be very close by and the emotions much stronger than normal. Which, in Steve’s mind, explained Munson to a tee. The guy always made sure to wander across the jock’s table, where his emotions were highest, typically with annoyance and disdain. Did Eddie’s eyes linger a bit longer on Steve than Tommy or the other athletes? Maybe. Maybe not. Steve did his best not to think about it too much.
Right now, with the tip of a broken bottle grazing his neck, he’s failing miserably at not thinking about it. Panic seeps out of every pore in his body. Adrenaline chokes him like it had the night before, but this time it’s from both himself and his Half. It’s too much. Steve can’t focus, can’t hear anything Dustin’s saying. There’s a sharp poke, then a trail of wet on his neck, and Eddie gasps. His grip loosened just enough for Steve to tilt his head away, readjusting his hold on Eddie’s sleeve, where his fingers accidentally brush against cold, pale skin.
The panic gives way to euphoria. Steve breaks out into a fit of giggles, and morphs into hysterical laughter. He sounds completely unhinged, now doubled-over and furiously wiping his misted eyes with his free hand. Because his other hand has clamped itself around Eddie’s small wrist. The fizzing sensation like tiny bubbles flows from where they’re joined. The tingles climb his arm, root into his chest, and sprout in the back of his mind.
Steve’s overcome with the hiccups. Robin’s rubbing small circles into his back and he works towards matching his breaths to her counts. It’s enough to pull his focus back to reality.
He is Steve Harrington. He’s in Reefer Rick’s boat house with Robin, Dustin, and Max. The Upside-Down is probably back. Something wet drips down his neck. The dock is rough beneath his knees, even through the denim. His back aches where it hit the wall. And Eddie Munson is his Half.
Eddie is crying. Steve registers the shock, the guilt, the despair at the back of his mind. Eddie’s guilt– iit’s always guilt. It dulls his own joy, but just a little.
Tentatively, Steve pushes comfort. To his delight, Eddie gasps again. His big, dark eyes lock onto his, and Steve can’t help but smile. He knows now isn’t the time to talk, that there’s so much more happening to Eddie than just finding his soulmate in a rundown boathouse on the edge of town. But they’ve come so far, been through so much that Steve decides they can spare a moment, just for them.
He cups the back of his hand behind Eddie’s neck before releasing his wrist, unwilling to lose contact, and guides his Half into his lap. The guilt spikes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t want to be here, with him, on some level. But Eddie crawls between his legs, pushes his face into Steve’s neck and inhales. The crush of Steve’s grip calms him, and panic eventually subsides. It’s quiet. Steve looks to find Robin corralling the kids towards the door. She throws him a thumbs up as she closes it behind her.
He pushes to her too, and he feels her relax in return.
Eddie mumbles something, but it’s muffled into his neck. Steve leans back as he scruffs his Half’s hair, pulling him away just far enough to make eye contact. The poor boy still hasn’t stopped crying. Steve’s still pushing, pushing love into him.
“I’m sorry. Steve, I’m so sorry,” Eddie sobs. Steve watches as Eddie rubs his dripping nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket, the snot smearing with the drag instead of absorbing into it. Steve uses his own free arm to wipe Eddie’s nose for him which earns him a pinched expression and a small, awkward chuckle. “That was disgusting.”
Steve smiles. “I’ve seen worse.”
Eddie’s eyes dart away, and guilt spikes again. Steve gently swipes his thumb under his eyes to catch the stray tears. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in there.” He taps on the back of Eddie’s head.
“You– you’ve been through so much. Like, so much awful shit, Steve, and I don’t even know. I just–” Eddie pauses, scrubs his hands over his face until Steve pulls one away, slowly guides it toward the side of his own neck–skin to skin– places the tip of Eddie’s thumb in the cradle of his jaw. Momentarily entranced, Steve squeezes the back of Eddie’s neck again to regain his focus.
“You just, what, Eddie? You’re going to be ok, just tell me.” He pushes. Eddie shudders, the effect intensified with proximity.
“See! That, exactly that. You always comfort me when I need it. When my dad kicked me out, anytime Wayne and I argued, every time I got shoved into someone’s locker. You were always there, just wrapping me up in love. Which is such fucking shit.” Eddie’s cold huff of laughter is wet and self-deprecating and Steve hates it. Doesn’t have to feel it in the back of his skull to know Eddie’s full of misery. “All I could ever give you back was shit. Just anger, frustration, depression and fucking teenage angst. I tried so hard to hold it back, like I knew you could. I tried so fucking hard, Steve, to send you anything good, like you always did for me. And all you got was my bullshit.”
Steve’s own eyes water as Eddie dissolves back into a fit of sobs. He tucks his Half’s head back into his neck as he rocks them back and forth. Struggling with his own thoughts, Steve chooses each word slowly and carefully. “Eddie, I felt everything. Your happy moments might not have been as strong as your bad, but they were still there. Like how I know Hellfire plays Friday nights, and I always thought I felt great on Friday nights because I finally got a break from the kids. Or how my best games were always after you’d do your little cafeteria table speeches, because it filled me with so much energy I would practically vibrate. Every single day, I’d feel little pops of bubbles that could only be you. You were always the best part of my bad days, Eddie.”
He feels raw, laid bare and exhausted as Eddie looks up to stare at him, lips parted in disbelief. “You knew? You knew it was me the whole time?” His voice croaks, and Steve makes a mental note to get him some water when they leave.
Smiling, he grazes Eddie’s sweat and snot and tear-soaked bangs off his forehead. “I had a hunch. I just–”
“Just what?” The swell of heat behind Steve’s eyes pinpoints Eddie’s anger, rejection, and more guilt. Always guilt. “You were just hoping you could go as long as possible without mentioning it. Hoping maybe you were wrong, and your soulmate wasn’t the satan-worshiping, drug dealing Freak of Hawkins?”
With one hand still woven into the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck, Steve uses his other hand to cover Eddie’s mouth, and he’s thrilled to discover his hands almost completely wrap around his head. He pushes hard again. Eddie squints, glaring at him over the ridge of Steve’s pinky finger, but Steve still feels him relax, so he counts it as a win.
“I didn’t want to drag you into my bullshit.” The pinprick sensation of curiosity heightens and he answers before Eddie can even ask. “You know exactly what bullshit. That’s why I’m the one who should be sorry. Fuck I can’t– I can’t imagine how all of that must’ve been for you. How painful it was, especially when you didn’t know what was happening, or why. You were forced to bear through all of my shit and just hope it would end.”
Eddie gently pried Steve’s hand from his mouth and eyed him warily before using Steve’s own sleeve to wipe at the boy’s tears. “Steve, what happened to you?”
Steve sniffles before he places a feather-light kiss to Eddie’s brow, reveling in a champagne pops of love and awe. “I’m sorry, baby, but probably the same thing that’s happening to you right now.”
A heavy silence settles between them. Steve feels a separate, more distant curl of anxiety in the back of his mind and knows they’re running out of time. Robin can only keep the kids distracted for so long. Steve pushes more comfort at her, receiving her expected impatience in return.
“Come on,” Steve says, rising to his feet and he reaches down to help Eddie up as well. “You can tell us what happened, and we’ll fill you in on the rest.” He takes Eddie’s hand as they walk towards the boathouse door. No use in forcing him to sleep here when Steve’s house is always empty.
“What about us?” Eddie’s voice is timid, but still hopeful.
(Continue for one-sentence hurt/no comfort)
Steve smiles, squeezing his Half’s hand before softly kissing his knuckles, cool metal rings grazing his chin. “After this is over, we’ll have all the time in the world.”
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~~~
The pain is Eddie’s, sharp and piercing in places that bleed the most. It’s agony and it’s death, but he only feels a surge of love as he falls to darkness.
#not only can they feel each others' pain but they actually get each others injuries#couldn't help it with that last sentence and i'm not sorry about it#also i'm pretty proud that i kept it down to one sentence. i could've wrung that scene dry with how much angst I could suck out of it#i'm sick (again! wtf i feel like i was just sick)#steddie soulmate au#steddie fic#soulmate au#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things fic#steve's an empath#queeniewritesstories
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overflowing
#tw gore#??? i'm not sure tho it's more abstractive#like a rag doll stuffed with threads#or whatever#uh well a personal thing#very quick and messy oil pastels#i'm just so tired of feeling constantly sick i just want to gut myself and get out#anyway#oil pastels#artists on tumblr#my art
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An Unsexy Post About Censorship
Sooo...gumroad is shutting down NSFW content sales because of Stripe and Paypal. This is also why Wishtender has been down as well, if you weren't aware. And why Patreon is also cracking down on anything remotely kinky.
(If you're wondering why your favorite FICTIONAL sexual content isn't allowed on most platforms, it's payment processors.)
Please be extra kind to anyone who works with NSFW content right now, whether it be art, writing, audio, photos or video. Whether it be tasteful erotica, or the kinkiest BDSM porn you can think of, we're all in the crosshairs right now.
And, judging by trends from these past few years, this is only going to get worse.
Support NSFW creators where you can, whether by tipping or buying our content (where you still can) or just helping boost content on sites where algorithms want to drown us out.
Call representatives where you can and complain about payment processors acting as arbiters of what YOU are and aren't allowed to pay for and enjoy.
This may be about porn right now, but censorship of this caliber doesn't just stop with porn. Any transgressive (read: non-conservative) media is fair game.
Fight against it where you can. Support creators where you can.
Art is important. Reflections of our sexuality are important. We don't want a world where people aren't free to make or see the things they love and enjoy.
#nyxrambles#Warning: I'm going to get kind of grim in the tags so peace out of you have to.#This bums me out so fucking hard!#I have artist friends who are struggling because their content suddenly goes against these stupid fucking guidelines!#I'm going to have to take my stuff off of Gumroad even though it was previously allowed!#It's hard to not feel like everything is just spiraling toward fascism sometimes yanno?#I am usually opposed to slippery slope arguments but the goal of moral conservativism is to destroy everything that isn't in line with it.#They will not stop until the world reflects their narrow ideals. Like...that's the whole point of it!#Sorry guys I'm just having a rough one.#Between this and being sick for months I'm getting pretty fucking Done.#I'll be okay but I'm not going to pretend it isn't hard and scary.
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ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ↳ anonymous asked: HUSK and ALASTOR or angel and valentino?
#hazbin hotel#husk#hazbin husk#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel edit#hazbin edit#radio demon#requested#make me choose#my gifs#dad beat dad#flashing gif#flickering gif#the full ask said ''in whichever way you define'' at the end so#i chose based off of which dynamic i'm more intrigued by. valentino as a villain and as a challenge to angel is REALLY interesting dont get#me wrong here. it's great. but THESE two have a lot of untapped potential for husk specifically#alastor is just there at the moment but HUSK. husk. it really is a mirror to angel's situation - everything wrong in his afterlife is#because of that gamble. but he WAS an overlord. HE was the one doing that horrible shit before. that's INTERESTING!!#he gathered and gambled away souls like money. it was all just a game to him. now HE'S getting his. a sick poetic justice in a way.#i am SO excited to see if they dive into this more!! will he ever self reflect? if he does will we SEE him doing this reflection? will it#be enough to play a part in him choosing to redeem himself? or even decide if redemption is worth the effort? i feel like there's potential#with his dynamic with alastor to influence that big time + his friendship with angel will also be a major factor#also making this set made me realize the hallway scene is like their one major interaction. jfc and it's fucking HORRIFYING lmao#look i loved their pilot interaction/dynamic as much as the next person but this is just. SO much better. more things to explore.#i'm really glad in the end that they were rewritten in this way. A+
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daniel was so enthralled and delighted seeing louis' fangs, was fascinated with the knowledge that armand can read minds, that it stands to reason he would go balls to the wall insane to find out armand can fly. in the 70s he'd ask armand to do it all the time and armand would always do it so daniel would cheer for him and get all excited again. so in dubai in 2022 when armand is revealing himself as the ancient vampire and not the servant boy, i like to think he was like "well, there's one surefire way to make sure this reveal makes daniel's eyes bug out and makes him freak out and go crazy and realize how cool and hot and powerful i am." and then he just. starts fucking flying
#iwtv#devil's minion#armandaniel#headcanon i just came up with my mind. i'm feeling craaazyyyyyyy#just wrote it into my wip as well but i felt like it deserved a meta post also#because i do believe all of armands actions in dubai at the end of the day are in service of getting daniel to fuck him.#it's like. we know vampires can fly. we saw lestat do it 2 episodes ago.#the fact that there's a vampire flying isn't new knowledge. but i like to think that daniel was like#WOAG. THIS GUY I WANT TO FUCK IS FLOATING IN MIDAIR!#like the fact that he gets a book of theatre de vampires archives and throws it down is so nothing. we dont careeeeee#but daniel DOES care that his beautiful vampire lover who he doesnt remember is showing off for him. god im sick
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I will never recover from the knowledge that thymoma generally has a very high survival rate, and in most cases that it becomes fatal, the patient has unknowingly lived with the cancer for years. There's a chance that Wilson was sick for half the series and didn't even know it.
#I'm just imagining House looking back at the last few years in horror thinking about the possibility that Wilson had been sick all along#I can see it leading to him feeling like all of their memories are tainted#House definitely blames himself as well even though it was never in his control#I can't imagine how much his already extreme self-hatred was amplified#And he probably looked back at all the mistakes he made and all the fights they had and realizing that -#- while they were having all these fights that now seem so trivial that Wilson was probably sick#They wasted all that time unknowingly with Wilsons cancer slowly progressing as they argued and fought#It makes me want to cry#I'm not a doctor and I know this obviously isn't always the case but from what research I've done this seems the be the standard mostly#house md#house#greg house#james wilson#gregory house#hilson#wilson#housemd#favs#favourites
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