#i hope they step on a lego and then fall off a cliff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

notasiren21 · 4 years ago

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To those who want to kill themselves:

I’m not going to sugarcoat this at all. I’ll be gentle at times and then rather aggressive. And for good reason...

Because you deserve to fucking live.

I’m aware there’s blatant bullying, discreet and subtle bullying that makes you question if you’re just being sensitive and taking things too seriously (most of the time you’re not, trust me), neglect, familial issues, and then situational instances that pound into your heart and head consistently.

Believe it or not, but the cliché term of “it does get better” is true, just as long as you yourself is willing to check its validity and try.

I thought of several ways like drowning myself in the bathtub and hoping my fingertips would slip on the rims so I couldn’t pull myself up when my body got weak/ holding a knife to my chest while crying/ contemplating on just taking those three steps into the road when I was supposed to get the mail/ jumping off my balcony/ finishing off my oxycodone pills from a wisdom teeth surgery/ etc.

Maybe I’m a coward or was weak, but I could never follow through with it. Just left with that same bottle lying in a medicine basket somewhere or had a brief puncture mark on my chest that just broke the skin with the tip, whatever.

Crying myself to sleep almost every night because it was too much.

Honestly, I think being a coward and weak was the best thing to happen to me.

I lost a boyfriend from how much my anxiety and suicidal thoughts consumed me and had to tell my parents why I was dumped which led to me seeing their faces when I fessed up and said “I’m not happy, I’m not okay”.

It’s funny because I’ve had a cry for help several times through stuff I’ve written and published on fanfic sites, stuff I’ve given to my teacher to read senior year, literally telling my AP Lit class two years ago I was depressed and thought suicidal shit (only 8 of us in that class and teacher) and being told “it’s just like that sometimes, gotta shake it off”, “don’t let people’s words get to you”, “yea, same” and having a teacher pretend like she heard nothing.

That one time I was brave, and I was waved off.

I know there are times where you finally find your voice for that one split second and then you’re ignored, and you feel yourself rescinding back to mute and distant.

I know you’re plastering a smile on constantly to fool others because you’re afraid what will happen when they find out.

It sucks, doesn’t it?

When you hear so many voices in your head playing that record on repeat of the things you most want to forget. Having those nightmares occur where someone takes the final step to push you to your edge. Seeing the annoyed rolling of eyes or blatant show of disinterest of you.

Nine years of schooling, because after 3rd grade, I was just one of those girls who females decided to hate for breathing or asking a question. So nine years I was trying not to victimize myself in my head and justifying why everyone acted the way they did to me.

Teenage girls and teachers alike made my life hell. The girls never gave me the chance and teachers treated me like I was some lost cause that couldn’t even make it to merit roll and like my work was shit.

“Oh, you sure you can make it into the media production film? I don’t think you’ll be able to make shows like you planned. Maybe try for something else.”

“Your writing is, it’s okay. Try harder next time.”

I struggled with grades in high school and wondered if I’d even graduate.

I made the president’s list my first year of college. Got straight A’s. My English professors loved to leave excited feedback on my essays and were amazed how quickly I could conjure one up and fix my own mistakes before peer review.

My professors talked about me to one another and when I met the new ones, they already knew of me.

My history professor begged me to write a poem for a book he’s writing and publishing near 2021.

My creative writing professor attacked me with an email of compliments over a chapter book of poems I wrote where i took them in the order written so it was me at my worst, to me fooling myself, to me losing and falling back, to me trying for help, to me being the best I’ve ever been. >I also made him cry in a class writing experiment with less than 300 words.

(Idk maybe the bitch is that sensitive but he was chill)

My point is: fucking block out what other people say or do to you. Tell someone you trust you need help and stop kidding yourself.

And please, for the love of god, if it is really that bad then do not make yourself so naive into believing a friend or partner can take the brunt of it all and fix you.

It may work for some time, but if you’re still suffering, they will too and neither of you will win in the end.

I took to therapy and it worked. And I dropped all the toxic shit out of my life and moved on.

I may not use social media besides Tumblr or Discord, but I’m more present in life than I was before and not comparing myself to others anymore.

I dropped friends that made me feel bad and bashed things I liked or would cause issues and I have a peace of mind (as much as one can have one during a pandemic and such).

Get the help. Find ways to receive help if you can’t financially afford it. Find that courage to tell someone you trust that listens to you that you are suffering and need that professional help and to be taken seriously.

I was the first to walk the graduation stage of my 2019 class, and I thought I’d be the first of us to die because I couldn’t move past everything I’ve endured from a large majority of them.

I would’ve missed how positively my life turned around.

I would’ve destroyed my parents, little sister, and brother for being so selfish.

I’m the middle child, the good kid with a career in mind and the mediator of the family. And I’m used to not being the favorite but appreciated one.

My dad confessed to me that I was his favorite and I never want to hear it again.

You never want to hear a man you see as the strongest person you know say that while trying not to cry and keep his voice normal, you don’t want to hear “You were always my favorite” said in such a thick voice it brings tears to your eyes.

Your life matters.

This isn’t Sims where you can move on to the next household member. This isn’t like throwing LEGO R2-D2 off a cliff with that iconic scream only or lose a few coins. This isn’t a fucking game.

And I am so sick of hearing people treat it like some quest you get once in your life:

“You’ll be okay.”

“Cheer up.”

“It’s just a phase.”

Etc.

It’s all fucking bullshit. We live in a world that sugarcoats the severity of someone’s life when it’s presented in front of us while on the precipice of shattering.

You deserve to live. Anyone who tells you otherwise is the one who loses the right to be considered human or a person, not you.

Do not let someone dictate your life’s outcome because they don’t agree with you or like you.

And please, for all that is good in this world, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re alright when you don’t feel it.

Hang in for one extra day to gather the strength and tell someone you need help.

Everyone acts so ashamed of it but it was the best thing that happened to me after being such a weak coward and now, I’m genuinely happy. And it was a lot of work to get here.

Want to know where all my angst and suffering had gone to? Just ask the characters in the books and fanfic content I’ve written. I’m sure they don’t appreciate it, but those stories wouldn’t exist if I gave up then.

And believe it or not, people will fucking miss you like hell if you killed yourself. It’s just too hard to see it right now and I was blinded before too.

Not everyone has the same opinion of you. Not everyone matters in your life.

You’re living this life singlehandedly by yourself while surrounded by others experiencing the same thing. Don’t let that opportunity go to waste.

And if you need distractions, indulge yourself in the harmless guilty pleasures like I do.

It can get better if you just open yourself to it.

It can get better if you get help.

You really must be so tired, isn’t it time you stopped pretending?

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weartirondad · 6 years ago

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And You Would Smile (And That Would Be Enough) 6/6

5 times Tony helps pull Peter away from an anxiety built cliff and the 1 time Peter is on his own. (part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v)

FF.net I ao3

Today was a good day.

Like, a good day as in the sun was shining, tickling Peter’s nose through the classroom window and when he got out it was neither too warm nor too hot.

Good as in Flash was out sick, they had gotten back two tests both of which he had aced and Ned kept going on and on about the latest Lego newsletter and all the new sets in it.

Good as in it was Friday and he would spent the weekend with Tony at the tower with May, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy joining them for a movie night on Saturday.

It was an almost suspiciously good day.

Peter tried to shove that nagging voice in his head somewhere in the deep abysses of his mind because he would not let his stupid anxiety ruin this perfectly fine day for him. Much to his own surprise it actually worked for once, leaving him to stroll through the floors one last time that week with a clear head and a big smile.

“Are you planning on going out before heading to Mr. Stark’s?”

They had stopped walking, standing just outside the school doors, and Ned was looking at him excitedly, voice skipping very inconspicuously when he emphasized his secret coded message. Peter was too happy to point it out to him, though, and there was no one around anyway so he just shook his head while enjoying the warm sun on his face.

“Nope, Tony has the suit for reparation after a teensy tiny knife fight on Wednesday,” he told his guy-in-the-chair with a sheepish smile and what he hoped were an innocent flutter of his eyelashes. “I’ll go out when I get to the tower, though, I’m sure he’s already been done with it since like the middle of the night on Wednesday but he’s a little mad about me getting stabbed in the first place so he’s drawing it out.”

Ned stared at him for him minute before letting out a huff that was half annoyed, half amused. “Well, at least he’s giving you the don’t-get-stabbed-talk so I don’t have to. Seriously, dude, you’re supposed to avoid getting hit.”

“Well, gee, now that you say that it makes so much more sense,” he shot back with an eye roll, digging through his backpack with one hand looking for his phone, “Are you taking the bus home?”

“Nah, my mum’s picking me up so I can help her grocery shopping.”

Peter grimaced sympathetically but pulled out his phone and headphones in triumph, “But at least you’ll get to choose which flavor Doritos she’s buying. Ah, man,” he sighed when his phone gave a sad beep before shutting down, “Can I have your phone real quick to text Tony that I’m walking over?”

His best friend was suddenly incapable of forming sentences. “You wanna. Text, uh, Tony real quick,” he repeated, eyes widening and Peter had to work really hard to stifle a laugh. “You, uh, Tony Stark. My phone. Uh.”

“Ned?” He waved his hand in front of the star-struck teenager before simply grabbing the phone he had been asking for from Ned’s lax grip. It took him a minute to type a message and send it to one of the three numbers he actually knew by heart (For emergencies, something May had insisted on since he’d been able to count) and when he was done and the phone back in Ned’s grasp the boy was still blinking ahead stupidly. That is, until a car honked loudly and his mum called for him.

He gave his friend a gentle shove in the right direction before patting his back and saying his goodbyes and greetings to Mrs. Leeds. “See you tomorrow!”

Then Peter was alone and started walking in the direction of the tower, phone and headphones back in his backpack, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and with a happy skip in his step. He absorbed the noises of the city, the honking of cars, occasional shouts and bustling people, enjoying the normality of it all. It were moments like these when he felt like a normal teenager. Right now his enhanced senses weren’t bothering him, they were simply a way to feel more of the beauty of the day, they made him special without standing out.

He’d been born and raised in New York and the loud noises on the street actually held familiarity when they weren’t overwhelming him. On days like these, when he was at peace with the world and himself, he liked that it was never really quiet and that he was never really alone but rather part of something. He was part of a group of people who were all doing their own thing without knowing what the person next to them was going through.

There was a beauty to that kind of anonymity and connectivity –

A scream pulled him out of his musings. A barely audible cry for help. A kid’s voice.

The second his brain had registered the noise and filed it under important and ‘immediate reaction advised’ the back of his neck started buzzing. It was an unpleasant feeling that Ned liked to call his Spidey sense and that was useful about five out of ten times. And of course it would start going off when he had already established that there was something going on.

Still, he let the hum urge him on and it didn’t take him long to make out what was making the child scream.

There, towering above him, was a skyscraper and it was burning.

A large crowd of people were already assembled in front of the building in a safe distance, ambulances standing all around while several fire workers were working on putting out the fire. Strangely enough there was significantly less uproar and turmoil in the masses than he had expected.

They all seemed weirdly… settled. Scared, dusty and covered in small bruises but not as if they were looking for someone. The fire workers were only running out of the building, no one was charging in to save the child.

“What’s going on?” he asked a middle- aged man who was staring up at the fire, face scrunched up in worry.

He looked down at the kid before telling him that the fire alarm had started half an hour ago and that luckily everyone inside had already been saved and when he started talking about property damage and insurance Peter broke away.

“Hey! Sorry!” He yelled, sprinting over to the barrier to get the fire workers’ attention. “Hey! There’s someone still in there! There’s-“ His voice broke off but luckily a woman had heard him and he could only hope that she would listen because being so close to a building that was destined to collapse was doing wonders for his state of mind.

“Calm down, sweetie. There’s no one in there. We checked every floor.” He hated adults with a passion just then. He hated not having his suit with him. They would’ve listened to Spider- Man.

“I swear, there’s someone still in there! I- It’s,” he spluttered, heart beating too fast and breaths coming in too shaky to form a real sentence let alone thought. “You need- You need to check again!”

She looked at him with compassion but damn her he didn’t want compassion. “We will check again, okay, but we can’t go that high up anymore, the fire’s been working through the building’s core. But we’ll look for your brother, okay? What’s your name? You might want to-“

Peter had already slipped away, pure panic gripping his heart at the sight in front of him. But he could still hear the voice. It was interrupted by more coughing with every scream but the kid was there and the fire worker’s weren’t fast enough and-

Without thinking he doubled back and went to the back of the building where no one was watching before starting his climb up.

His hands were sweating but he couldn’t think about how he could fall to his death with just a wrong step, he couldn’t think of-

“Mommy! Please!”

The kid’s voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts and it was so close now. He must be on the right floor. He just needed to get inside. Of course it was one of the floors that had flames leaking out at the sides.

Funnily enough his hand wasn’t shaking when he lifted it from the side of the building to throw a punch into a nearby window. His hand was steady even when his whole body was vibrating with pure, unadulterated fear.

“Hello?” he tried, voice choking on his spit, as he climbed through the shattered window awkwardly. Shards of glass were ripping through his clothes and skin but he ignored them in favor of trying to orientate himself and listening for a reply.

There was none and for a moment he felt like passing out. Oh god, what if this was the wrong floor?

There was, however, a tiny whimper somewhere to his right.

Peter dropped down to his knees and adjusted his hoodie so it was at least covering his mouth before slowly crawling through the – not yet burning – remains of a living room until he reached a little boy, not older than four that was cowering behind a turned table.

“Hey, I’m Peter,” the teenager tried to address him before he touched him, worried the boy would freak out, but the second he realized that there was someone else there, he leaped up and clung to him like he was a lifeline. Which, he probably was in that moment. At least the hope for one.

“I-I’m s-so sc-sca-red,” he hiccupped into Peter’s neck who was holding tightly onto the tiny body in his arms, trying to sooth him through patting his hair in a similar fashion May and Tony usually did for him. He’s mind was going into overdrive figuring out how to get out but he couldn’t move them before he hadn’t calmed him down at least a little bit. “M-my m-mommy went d-downs-stairs a-and-“ he broke off into another sob and Peter shushed him gently.

“It’s okay, I’m getting you out,” he whispered softly and, really, he thought he was doing a fantastic job at keeping the appearance of calm. “We just need to get to the window and then we can climb out, okay? Can you climb? What’s your name, buddy?”

The little boy nodded and introduced himself as Sam and he was glad because if he was responsive then Peter could just keep on rambling to ignore the fact that every single fiber in his body was screaming ‘You’re gonna die’ all at once.

Together they made their way over to where Peter had come in from. But the crawl was going so slowly, too slowly. He needed to get ou-

With a loud bang part of the ceiling came crashing down.

Nononononono

Peter let go of the boy as gently as he could which wasn’t all that gently and the kid whimpered again, pulling the backpack off of Peter’s back when he was in the middle of turning around. He let him though, his entire being focused on the rubble that was blocking their way to the window.

It was dusty and everything was burning and water was dripping from the burst pipes.

He fell to his knees. He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t. He would die. He couldn’t get out. There was too much, too-

Another crack and he reacted before he fully realized what was happening and then he was there again. He was holding up part of the ceiling, rubble and debris coming down on him and Sam was screaming.

Oh god. Sam.

Peter blinked, biting back the scream at the bottom of his throat and blinking through the tears running down his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he managed to choke out, “It’s gonna be okay.”

His heart would combust. He was sure of it. There was no way he could survive this again. There was no way the building wouldn’t crush him this time. Squish him like a tiny bug. Like he had no backbone at all. He was Atlas, carrying the sky, stopping two worlds from colliding, only he wasn’t strong enough.

God.

“May,” he sobbed, legs shaking under the weight of the concrete and with the burden of his panic. “T-Tony.”

He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t –

In front of him sat Sam, tiny body shaking with sobs as he clung to the backpack he had ripped from Peter’s back. His backpack –

Yes! He almost cried with relief when he realized what that meant. But he was already crying anyway so maybe his tears were just mixing at this point.

Focus, Peter.

“S-sam?” he managed to get out through gritted tears, thankful that the boy seemed to trust him enough to immediately sit up at his voice. Then again, he was currently holding up the part of the building that would’ve smashed them both otherwise.

Let’s not think about that.

“Can you open my backpack?” he asked, trying to breathe through the panic that was still rolling over him in waves, threatening to take over, threatening to drown him. Nope. He had to get this done. Then he’d deal with his panic. “G-great, now do you see Ironman?”

One breath. Two breaths. Steady.

“You need to press the side of his heel,” he instructed the boy who nodded ferociously and did as he was told. Peter heard the faint sound telling him that the emergency message, including their current location, had been sent and now there was actually some relief in his panic.

“Will Ironman come to save us now?”

The voice sounded so tiny and, really, all Peter wanted to do was say yes, break down and let Tony save the day but Sam would die if he let go.

“Yeah, he will,” he managed to choke out anyway, “H-he’ll save us.” Only Peter wasn’t sure he wouldn’t collapse before that.

One breath. Two brea –

The smoke in his lungs made him choke and his head snap up. The smoke was getting thicker by the minute and he already couldn’t breathe properly.

“S-sam.” One breath. “You need to.” Two breaths. “Cover your nose.” Three breaths. “And mouth.”

But the boy was shaking again, obviously having realized that he wasn’t getting enough air either, and Peter couldn’t comfort him because he was trying to keep them from dying and he was trying not to let the weight crush him and he was-

“Sam. Press down on the blue thing, okay?” He couldn’t breathe. “Gr-great. Just h-hide y-your face i-in the bl-blue light.” One more inhale. Just one more. “That’s g-good. O-okay, s-stay l-like th-that. ‘S g-gonna gonna b-be o-okay.” Exhale.

Part of him relaxed when he saw Sam do as he was told but that gave all the other parts of time to focus on his barely suppressed panic. Which was not good.

Breathing. He had to keep breathing. He couldn’t but he had to.

One. Two.

He broke off with a sob, panting through the hoodie over his mouth. He couldn’t do it. His lungs wouldn’t open and even if they did, they would inhale smoke and dust and death and –

Gritting his teeth, Peter tried to stand up a little straighter and he started counting again. Tony would be there. Tony would come. He’d just have to survive until then.

One. Two. Thr-

The building moved and he let out a scream when some part of the ceiling impaled his back. No. Gaze fixated on the little boy, he bit back another scream and took another breath.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He made it.

He made it through five breaths.

His heart was still beating too fast, his breathing was still coming out in gasps and his entire body was on fire but he made it through five breaths. He could do five more.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

With his eyes closed he imagined May standing next to him, her gentle hand on his upper arm and her warm smile resonating through his chest. May would never let him suffocate.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His breaths were evening out.

Ned was rooting for him. He was clutching his hand with one hand and gave him a thumbs up with the other. His smile was pained but he was being strong for Peter. Ned believed he could do it.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His galloping heart was slowing down.

He half expected Tony to join the group next and he almost staggered when his Uncle’s hand found his waist, the touch soothing some of the pain. His Uncle would help him carry the building.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

His body slowly stopped shaking.

Tony was standing right in front of him, a look of worried conviction flickering in his eyes. When he blinked it was gone and all that was left was love and pride and then a hand came to ruffle his hair and he lowered his head, letting the panicked tension leak out of his body. Tony would come.

Peter blinked when he felt his vitals had returned to normal. Well, as normal as they could be in a life threatening situation. He was thankful for the adrenalin coursing through his blood, certain that it was the only thing keeping the post-panic-attack fatigue at bay.

“Hey Sam,” he spoke up, voice scratchy with dust and smoke but steady and calm, “Are you holding up? Tony’ll be here any second, I swear.”

The boy had barely time to mumble an affirmative into the plushy before Peter could hear the sounds of repulsors closing in on them and suddenly the ceiling wasn’t as heavy anymore.

When he looked up from Sam, he found War Machine standing beside him, helping him hold up the building and Vision came flying through the path Rhodey had cleared on his way. The corner of his lips tucked up in tired satisfaction when he watched the android pick Sam up and retreat back to safety.

The boy was safe. He wasn’t carrying the sky anymore. The adrenalin leaked out of his body with the tension and Peter collapsed forward.

He never hit the ground though. Instead he hit the cool metal of the Iron- Man suit that enveloped him in strong metal arms and picked him up as if he weight nothing. He really did feel weightless just then. And so tired.

“Thanks for saving us,” he mumbled between coughs as he let his body go limp. His head fell to the shoulder of the suit and, it wasn’t the physical contact he was craving but it was something he associated with safety and so he let his mind drift, too. The last thing he picked up before everything went black was Tony’s voice, a little tinny through the suit.

“You did all the saving, squirt. We’re just providing the getaway car.”

Peter was hunched over his desk in the work shop, eyes squinted in concentration, tongue tucked between his front teeth and fingers moving quickly yet meticulously. Everything had to be perfect. This project had big shoes to fill.

“You done yet, kid?”

He looked up with a crocked smile, stopping his motions, when his mentor wandered over and heavy hands settled on his shoulders. His thumbs rubbed circles into his shoulder blades, letting Peter relax in his grasp while the tension from sitting still for so long slowly leaked out of him.

“Won’t get done if you keep doing that,” he mumbled in halfhearted complaint but didn’t move out of Tony’s personal space who seemed content to stay right where he was.

The older man chuckled, fingers now running through Peter’s curly strands. “Want me to help you?”

“Nope, you’re doing the tech and I’m getting the software done,” he insisted, “Since you wouldn’t let me help last time.”

Now the billionaire was full on laughing and Peter grinned. He had long since learned to cherish every one of Tony’s honest laughs and he prided himself on tickling them out of him more and more often. Some days tickling was actually involved. But not today. Today was a calm day spent in the lab where they mostly moved around in silence, throwing ideas back and forth every once in a while, and took a break from their usually busy lives. A wonderful kind of boring. Just what he needed.

“Software, really?” came the fond reply, “How long have you been sitting on that one?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been hoping you’d ask me for help for half an hour now,” he grinned back, earning yet another chuckle. He was leaning against Tony’s chest at this point and so the tiny vibrations the emotion prompted swept through his own body like a wave of warmth and home.

It had been so quiet earlier that it had gotten Peter thinking on how he was really missing his StarkPal that hadn’t been salvageable after almost catching on fire two days ago. Thinking back, he was sure Tony had already had plans to make him a new one, but as it was he had suggested they start working on one and while his mentor had figured out how to rebuild the tech (because, let’s be honest he was a lot faster at that stuff), Peter had jumped at the opportunity to sew the plushy.

He had done fairly well, too, considering Tony had only taught him how to use a sewing machine four hours ago.

“I’m done, I think,” he said, disrupting the comfortable silence that had descended on them, “Only way to tell is to turn him inside out and take a look.”

“Ready for the big reveal?”

Truth be told, the plushy wasn’t as perfectly executed as the first one that Tony had sewn but Peter couldn’t care less. Not when Tony looked at him like he had just single handedly managed world peace. Not when, after they had put the tech back in, the blue light was glowing as reassuringly as ever and the heartbeat matched the one that had gotten him through so many bad days.

Friday had been awful. Yet, somehow he had fought through his own demons and surprisingly enough he had come out on top. And he was really freaking proud of that.

“Thank you,” he whispered, plushy tucked under his arm as he reached out to engulf Tony in a bone crushing hug. He was so grateful, so unbelievably lucky to have all these people on his side. There was no way he would ever be able to put it into words, so he didn’t try past a, “Thank you for believing in me.”

Because that was what they did. That was what made him strong. That was what made him hope that someday he would be fine on his own.

“Love you, kid.”

Peter smiled. “I know.”

fin.

#irondad #irondad fic #tony stark #peter parker #josis fic #and you would smile (and that would be enough)#starkpal #5 + 1 fic

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