#is sad but is also something regular people cope with

[violettwrites]

in the arms of the broken — daryl dixon

a/n: to the dear nonnie that requested this 🫶🏻 thank u sm i absolutely adored writing this (i rly should be sleeping but i can’t so here i am) i hope you enjoy !!

if you enjoyed reading this, please support me by giving me a like, reblog, and/or comment ! don’t forget to follow me either if you want to read more of my stuff !

request: anon said — “i also like the dialogue prompt ‘i don’t know… i’ve never seen her like this’ that tugs at the heart strings”

summary: reader cannot cope with the way the world has become, during a particularly hard night for themselves, daryl dixon is the one to comfort them.

warnings: angst/sadness ,,, thats it rly

word count: 1,241

recourses: divider by @adornedwithlight

➵ tp!daryl masterlist

➵ regular masterlist

here is my ask box !

the night was quiet except for the crackle of the fire, but it felt wrong—like the world had gone still, holding its breath. you sat by the flames, knees drawn to your chest, staring blankly into the flickering light. the heat touched your skin, but it didn’t reach you, didn’t chase away the cold that had settled deep inside.

daryl watched you from a distance, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. he’d been keeping an eye on you for days, noticing the way you’d been pulling away from everyone, isolating yourself. you’d always been strong, always held it together for the sake of the group, but something was different now. something had changed, and it scared him. you were like a shadow of yourself, your spirit drained, your eyes distant.

rick approached him, eyes flicking over to you before meeting daryl’s. “how’s she holdin’ up?”

daryl didn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening as he watched the way you sat so still, your body hunched like the weight of everything had finally become too much to carry. he shook his head, his voice quiet and rough. “i don’t know… i’ve never seen her like this.”

rick nodded, his expression grim. “she’s been through a lot. more than most of us. maybe she just needs some time.”

rick can recall the first time they found you, smack bang in the middle of atlanta, all alone. you were covered in blood and guts, and if he hadn’t actually heard how you begged for help when he saw you, your voice barely audible, he honestly would have thought you were just another walker.

“time ain’t gonna fix what’s broken,” daryl muttered under his breath, the frustration simmering beneath his skin. time wasn’t enough when you were drowning, when you couldn’t see a way out of the darkness. and he hated that he didn’t know how to pull you out.

rick gave him a look, one that said everything he didn’t need to say out loud. “you’re the one she’ll listen to, daryl. talk to her.”

daryl stood there a moment longer, watching the way you curled into yourself, like you were trying to disappear. every instinct in him told him to go to you, but he hesitated, unsure if his words would even matter. still, he couldn’t just leave you like this.

he finally pushed off the tree and walked over, his boots crunching softly against the dirt. he lowered himself to the ground beside you, sitting close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that he’d crowd you.

for a while, neither of you said anything. the fire crackled between you, the only sound breaking the silence of the night. daryl wasn’t sure how to start, wasn’t good with words even on the best of days. but he knew you, and he knew the way you got when things started to spiral out of control in your head.

“you don’t gotta shut us out, y’know,” he finally said, his voice gruff but soft. “we’re all here for ya.”

you didn’t respond at first, your eyes still fixed on the flames like they held some kind of answer you were searching for. after a long moment, you sighed, your voice barely a whisper. “i’m tired, daryl.”

those words hit him like a punch to the gut. he’d seen people break before, seen the way this world could wear someone down until there was nothing left. but hearing you say it, seeing you like this—it scared him more than he wanted to admit.

“i know,” he said quietly. “we all are. but we’re still fightin’. you’re still fightin’.”

you shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke. “i don’t know if i can anymore. every day feels like it’s getting harder. like… like i’m losing pieces of myself.”

daryl’s chest tightened. he’d always admired your strength, the way you kept going no matter how hard things got. but now, hearing you say you were falling apart—it made him realize just how much he hadn’t noticed.

“you ain’t losin’ yourself,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “you’re still here. we’re still here.”

you swallowed hard, tears brimming in your eyes. “i feel like i’m drowning. like no matter what i do, it’s never enough. i can’t save everyone, daryl.”

that was it, wasn’t it? the burden you carried, the weight of trying to protect everyone, to hold the group together when everything was falling apart. it was breaking you.

daryl shifted closer, his hand reaching out to rest on your arm, hesitant at first, but firm once it was there. “you don’t gotta save everyone. that ain’t on you.”

your voice cracked as you spoke, the tears spilling over now. “but if i don’t… who will?”

daryl’s heart clenched at the raw pain in your voice. he wished he had the right words, wished he could take that weight off your shoulders. but he knew he couldn’t fix everything. what he could do, though, was remind you that you weren’t alone.

“you don’t have to,” he said, his thumb gently brushing your arm in a way that was more comforting than he realized. “we’re all in this together. you ain’t gotta carry the world by yourself.”

you turned to look at him, and the vulnerability in your eyes nearly broke him. he wasn’t used to seeing you like this, so lost and fragile. he hated it. he hated that you felt like you had to carry the world alone, that you felt like you were drowning.

“i don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “everything feels so heavy.”

daryl swallowed hard, his own heart aching at how much pain you were in. he didn’t know how to take that pain away, but he could be there for you. he could be the one thing you could hold on to when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

“you ain’t alone,” he said, his voice low but steady. “you got me. no matter what, you got me.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe just a little easier. his words were simple, but they grounded you. daryl had always been your anchor, and in this moment, you needed him more than ever.

without thinking, you leaned into him, your forehead resting against his shoulder as the tears came harder, your body shaking with the force of them. daryl didn’t hesitate. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“let it out,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s okay. i got ya.”

and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself fall apart. you let the tears come, let the pain you’d been holding in for so long spill out. daryl didn’t say anything more, didn’t need to. he just held you, his presence steady and unwavering, letting you know without words that you didn’t have to carry this burden alone.

the fire crackled softly beside you, but the world felt a little less cold with daryl holding you. you weren’t okay. you weren’t sure when—or if—you’d ever be okay again. but for now, in his arms, you felt like you didn’t have to be.

and maybe that was enough.

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

Dear Mr. Sizzling Sandwich,

Have you ever read Illness as Metaphor by Susan Sontag? Once when I was very sad I went to the library to cope and found myself on the floor reading that book in one go. I had also been listening to the anthropocene reviewed and it occurred to me that a lot of the things Sontag discussed reminded me of your videos and podcasts about tuberculosis and some of the ideas in TFIOS. It also seems likely that, as an author and person who seems to read a lot of books, especially on the subject of tuberculosis, it would be statistically likely that you had. Anyways, I thought that book was very interesting and wondered what you thought (if you did read it after all).

Sincerely,

A regular sandwich

Yes it was very important to me when writing The Fault in Our Stars, especially. Here is a passage from the opening of Sontag's essay:

"My point is that illness is not a metaphor, and that the most truthful way of regarding illness—and the healthiest way of being ill —is one most purified of, most resistant to, metaphoric thinking. Yet it is hardly possible to take up one’s residence in the kingdom of the ill unprejudiced by the lurid metaphors with which it has been landscaped."

And this is how I wanted to approach TFIOS if I could--to write with a hyperawareness of how people metaphorize, and how the lurid metaphors of cancer especially have shaped (and in many cases harmed) the lives of cancer survivors, but try to find a way not to metaphorize the disease itself, which as Hazel repeatedly says, is just a disease.

But I also relied (and rely!) so much on Illness as Metaphor because of the way it connects historical constructions of tuberculosis to contemporary constructions of cancer. Cancer now is seen in much of the rich world as the most capricious disease, the "robber of youth" (as TB used to be known), as the illness that you may survive through positive thinking or clean living or whatever--which all used to be how we thought of TB.

(This is why the band in The Fault in Our Stars is called "The Hectic Glow," which is something Thoreau said about TB when romanticizing it as a beautiful disease.)

Of course, our current metaphors around TB are very different--TB is now constructed as a disease of dirt and filth and poverty. In time, the same may become true of cancer--already cancer is killing more people in low- and middle-income countries than in rich ones. So the other thing I take from Illness as Metaphor is that the lurid metaphors of disease are not stable or fixed, nor need they be. We can change them together. I tried to contribute to that in whatever small way in TFiOS, but I don't and can't ever know if I succeeded, because that isn't up to me; it's up to the ongoing readers of the story.

[skepsiss]

Tooth and Nail -pt1- Steddie

You asked for it @strangersteddierthings it uhh...... hurts a lot at the end. Probably have to do a part 2... or more.

Uuhh, it's kinda sad guys. Prompt was to write something where Eddie is the one that is in denial about his queer-ness and Steve is the one who makes him question his sexual identity. Full request here.

14A ish rating. TW: Miscommunication, denial, mild homophobia, suggestion of past trauma (child abuse), use of drugs (weed), mild physical aggression, the f-slur (not spoken to anyone), self-hatred.

PT1 PT2 PT3

---

Eddie Munson was a freak. He’d been labeled as such since he was a little boy with a teen mom who ended up marrying the asshole who got her pregnant. He was a freak when his mother left and a freak when his father went to jail; how no boy who lived that kind of life was normal by any stretch of the word.

It only got worse from there as he got older. A freak for being poor, a freak for having long hair, being a nerd, a metalhead, trailer-trash, drop out–the list went on and on. Eddie had also gotten good at being a freak. He got good at wearing it like armor so people were scared of him instead of just judgemental. He wanted those insults said to his face, not whispered behind his back and no way in hell was he going to take it lying down. It didn’t make things easy, but it was how you coped.

So, why? Why would he give himself another reason to be labeled a freak? 

Eddie would fight tooth and nail for any freak or weirdo he managed to befriend. It didn’t matter if you were fat, ugly, smart, dorky, a boy or a girl. It didn’t matter what blend or flavour you happened to be–even if Eddie was partial to the nerds and musicians–you were family as soon as you walked into Hawkins High. Once you were a freak you stayed a freak and it came with Eddie Munson as a perk.

As long as he lived. As long as he was in Hawkins. 

It wasn’t surprising to Eddie when he found out Will Byers was gay. He had seen it on him as soon as the boy’s missing poster went up and the subsequent reunion happened. He had never really gotten to know Jonathan–he was a weirdo, but not one that apparently liked Eddie’s flavour–but he, much like the rest of Hawkins, had breathed a sigh of relief was Will was delivered home. It was under weird circumstances and Eddie didn’t know much about middle schoolers, but he knew a freak when he saw one. Will was a nerd and he was gay which meant he was premo-meat to be fried by the masses.

If they were in school, if Will came back to Hawkins and Eddie was there he would have fought for him. It didn’t matter if he was gay because freaks and weirdos stuck together no matter the flavour. So when he found out Robin was gay he felt much the same. He didn’t have anything against queer folk and honestly, he saw them as being in a similar boat as him. He’d embrace someone who was gay way before he’d embrace someone who was Christian–even though he was neither of those things. 

Eddie had no love for the church and apparently, all the ‘f-words’ were all damned to hell so they might as well make it a party. Seemed like all the interesting people were hell-bound. 

Their little collective. Family. A regular bunch of Addams. 

So, why would he give himself another reason to be labeled a freak?

Eddie had been called everything under the sun as far as insults went. He was no stranger to ’bigot’  or ’devil’, ’sinner’ or ’faggot’. You learned not to react or give them a reason to keep poking. You learned not to take it seriously or let it chink your armor. None of it had to be true and denying it wouldn’t help, you just learned to _ignore_ it and tell yourself that they didn’t know you and their insults didn’t mean anything. Surround yourself with people that either love you or respect you and you’re golden. Listen to them, take their opinions, be yourself, and embrace your flavour.

When Steve came out as queer though, Eddie had no clue what to do. The idea that he would claim that label was beyond Eddie’s understanding especially since he hadn’t seen that confession coming from Steve of all people. He was a weirdo by proxy but… No, the thing that really bothered Eddie about that was his reaction. When he found out Robin and Will were as gay as they came he had gone out of his way to make sure they knew he didn’t have a problem with it. He made sure they felt like they were family and if everyone else ditched Eddie wouldn’t. 

Tooth and nail. Tooth and nail. 

But when Steve came out? Eddie had been shocked, for one thing, and secondly, he had felt his stomach drop out. Panic had flooded him and he was thankful that he wasn’t the only one in the room when it was said.

He had put an arm around Will and jostled him affectionately. He had cracked a joke and smiled at Robin before privately telling her that if she needed anything he was there. He had felt those reactions so naturally almost as if Will and Robin were just telling them all what college they’d be going to. Cool, doesn’t change a thing. Let me know if you need any help with stuff. Easy. Steve though? Steve…

While everyone else in their casual setting seemed to be nodding or not making a fuss–most of them used to this kind of thing by now–Eddie sat there petrified. What did he say? What did he do? Steve wasn’t some kid Eddie could rib and force into an affectionate headlock. He wasn’t a chick he could pretend to posture for so she felt like he had her back. He was… Steve.

Eddie had left that night feeling out of sorts. He hadn’t spoken to Steve and his subdued interaction was pointed out by anyone, but Eddie hadn’t left their little gathering feeling subdued at all. Outwardly maybe, but internally his mind had been locked in place over Steve saying I think I’m bisexual.

Okay… so what? Same as anyone else, right? Queer, whatever–certified freak, cool–so why was he twisted up about it?

Eddie had been spending a lot of time with Steve over the last few months and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he actually liked his company. Steve was sarcastic and charming and a little bit of a bitch but it just made joking around with him easier. Once they had bridged the gap between ‘nerd shit’ and ‘jock shit’ it became easy to spend time with Steve. Eddie had watched Steve relax around him which literally looked like his body relaxing. You wouldn’t know it right away, but Steve was tense when he wasn’t comfortable around you: arms crossed, brows pinched, shoulders tight, jaw locked, and stance controlled. All of that fell away once he settled down and it was easy to be around him then. Eddie had actually enjoyed seeing the process of Steve relaxing around him as they played the NES with Dustin or sat outside and shared a joint without the rest of the goodies-goodies knowing.

He enjoyed Steve’s company, so what was he worried about? Was he scared Steve would come onto him? That was presumptuous of him and probably rude. He wasn’t scared of Will getting a crush on him or any other obviously gay guy he had seen at shows and bars. He’d even turned guys down which always seemed to embarrass them a bit and Eddie hated that he saw a flash of fear in their eyes when he told them he was straight. He always made sure to end the conversation with It’s cool, man. Don’t worry about it and then smile to show he meant no harm.

He liked queer folk. They were family. Why was Steve different? 

Eddie’s brain was stuck in fast-forward all night once he got home. He hated it when his brain did that to him. Every image flashed through his brain at supersonic speed and he couldn’t focus on anything. It was exhausting and frustrating and it literally felt like his mind was racing. The only thing that helped was imagining the sprawling darkness of space and slowly… very slowly… adding little pinpricks of light to the image. He had to force himself to slow down and from the outside, he knew it looked like he wasn’t doing anything. It looked like he was being lazy, but in reality, all the energy he usually exuded had just become internalized. 

He’d tell Steve it was fine. He’d made sure Steve knew he always had his support. That was what he was supposed to do. That was what he did for everyone else.

But when it happened–when he got his chance to have an aside with Steve–his gut had pulled and his tongue had gotten caught between his teeth. It happened the second time he tried too, and the third, and the fourth–each time he tried to talk to Steve one-on-one he clammed up. It was maddening really and Eddie had started to notice that Steve was suspicious of him–and not in a good way. 

The fifth time was different. The fifth time was worse. 

They had all been celebrating Max’s return home and as the kids got loud and the sun set it felt like one of those nights where Eddie just didn’t have the energy to be around this many people. He loved socializing–he loved the party–but sometimes it just became too much he could feel his mind drifting away from the scene.

Eddie had started his drift before looking up and catching Steve’s eye across the room. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and as he flicked his gaze up he slowly raised his hand to his mouth and mimed smoking. It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant and Eddie raised his brow in agreement before slinking away.

“I don’t have any on me,” Eddie explained as they stepped out into the dark, “but I’ve got some at home.”

His trailer was only a stone’s throw away from Max’s place so it wasn’t really a big deal. Weed sounded like a good idea too; he could smoke and bring him back to earth and maybe it would settle his nerves enough to properly talk to Steve. He _wanted_ to talk to Steve.

“We going to smoke here?” Steve asked as he followed Eddie inside the trailer. Wayne was out and Eddie didn’t have any qualms about Steve coming over to his place.

“Sure, might as well so the impressionable young children,” Eddie mocked, using a stuffy, posh voice, “don’t get tempted by our bad influence.”

He snickered as he touched his own chest, extending his hand skyward and acting as if he were delivering a Shakespearean speech. 

“Ms. Languard, is that you?” Steve mocked back, shoving Eddie’s shoulder so he’d continue his walk towards his bedroom. 

Eddie laughed again and stumbled down the hall, glad that they could at least joke around with each other still. Yeah, he’d smoke and then he’d properly let Steve know that being queer was cool with him and that they were blood-bonded for life already having survived a demonic war together. Steve would call him dramatic and they’d laugh over it and then things could go back to normal. 

Eddie had found one of his baggies of weed after tossing the laundry on his floor about the room for a few minutes before finally getting his stuff together so he could roll them a joint. The buds had been bitter and Eddie had jokingly apologized before hanging the blunt over to Steve to smoke. He had coughed and gagged at the flavour and Eddie had called him a pussy in good humour. Normal. They were acting normal.  

As the weed seeped in they got quieter though and Eddie felt himself drifting again as he sat on the foot of his bed. Steve was standing by the window so he could blow the smoke outside even though Eddie didn’t care about the smell. It was polite and Eddie could appreciate that at least.

“You okay?” Steve asked as Eddie caught himself staring blankly at the ground, knees tucked up to his chest.

“Oh–yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just thinking,” he admitted, blinking hard and then smiling at Steve. They shared a chuckle and Steve took a step forward to hand the joint over.

“Thinking about anything interesting?” He asked, carefully turning the blunt in his fingers so Eddie could grab it.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Eddie mumbled, taking a moment before finally putting his feet back on the floor and taking the smoke from Steve.

“You gunna share with the class?” Steve asked and Eddie giggled again at that, the joke was not that funny but the weed was getting to him.

It took another moment as Eddie smoked, his attention drifting a bit before he finally answered.

“I was thinking about what you said the other week,” Eddie admitted, trying to let the hold his anxieties had on him fade away. He could just let those fears slip through his fingers and he’d finally be able to say what he had been meaning to say for weeks now. Weed was good for that.

“The other week…” Eddie continued, and he stood slowly to pass the joint. Steve was staring at him with bemusement and confusion, obviously trying to follow along with what Eddie was saying. Eddie could feel that blanket of anxiety that had been wrapped around him slowly lifting. He didn’t have to think about anything, just say what he meant to say and then they’d be back to normal. 

“The other week when you uh, when you told everyone you were gay,” Eddie explained, nodding which got a pinched expression from Steve.

“Bisexual–bi,” he corrected, taking the blunt from Eddie and smoking it.

“Yeah, that,” Eddie answered, “it got me thinking about stuff…”

Eddie could feel himself getting distracted as his mind lost its grasp on the words he had been trying to deliver. He understood what he wanted to say–in sentiment–but he was having a hard time forming the words to go along with it. His attention kept on bending and then refocusing on other things that weren’t important. How his hair was tickling his ears a bit, and how bitter the weed tasted on the back of his tongue, and then to his room and how it was probably embarrassing to have Steve here when it was such a mess–he had to refocus on Steve.

“Uh, you, Steve,” Eddie tried, lifting his hand and poking Steve hard in the chest. He just had to drift his brain over to thinking about Steve.

“Yeah… me?” Steve replied, breathing a small laugh.

Eddie smiled, wondering for a moment if he was acting silly and if he was amusing Steve. He liked it when they joked and he had been missing that the last few days. He missed spending time with Steve. He wanted to tell him he accepted him. He wanted to tell Steve he’d always be there. He wanted to put him in a headlock, rib him, posture a little… see him relax… He wanted to see Steve’s posture change, his brows soften, and his mouth unpinch. And then everything would be normal. How they’d just go back to being freaks together.

Yeah, no more anxieties about all this, it was just Steve. It was just Steve.

“Eddie?” Steve asked and Eddie only vaguely registered that he was touching Steve’s face. He looked confused, but he was smiling, and all Eddie could think about was how beautiful his smile was. 

The next thing Eddie knew he was stepping forward as if in a slow dance and pushing Steve back towards the wall he had been leaning on. Steve didn’t fight him, but Eddie didn’t have the presence of mind to question what that meant. He was just moving them across the room so he could press flush against Steve and kiss him. The action had been so gentle Eddie had felt like he was dreaming through the whole thing like it wasn’t really him doing it. Steve shuttered under him and Eddie pulled back just far enough so he could see Steve’s expression. His eyes were closed and his brows were pinched together as if something painful had just happened.

They had kissed and Steve was in pain? They had kissed, why would Steve be in pain? They had kissed.

Eddie let go abruptly and stumbled backward as his anxieties plowed back into him.

“Sorry!” He said quickly, sticking his hands up in front of himself.

Steve didn’t move from the wall and as he opened his eyes slowly and a pang of guilt shot through Eddie. He stumbled back again as his knees hit the edge of the bed forcing him to sit down.

“Sorry, sorry���” Eddie offered, laughing now as his fear bubbled up. Why the hell had he done that? What the fuck was he doing?

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean anything by it, I uh, was just curious.”

That was the reason, right? There probably wasn’t another reason that made sense. He had been high and his brain had just filtered through the possibilities and for some reason, it had settled on a kiss. Fucking weird, but he had never claimed to be normal.

“Curious?” Steve said back slowly as he came out of what seemed like a daze, “you were… curious?”

Eddie felt his throat getting tight and he was desperately trying to swallow the lump that was forming there.

“I was just joking around,” he offered a weak smile and Steve just stared at him. Eddie watched as his expression changed from dazzled confusion to anger. 

“What the fuck, man?” Steve bit out sounding insulted. He didn’t sound as angry as Eddie thought, but he did sound upset.

“Sorry, I dunno man, I’m high,” Eddie blurted, speaking to the first excuse that came to mind.

Steve just stared at him before shaking his head in disbelief. His frustration looked like it was building and that in turn was making Eddie shrink back.

“You’re unbelievable…” Steve muttered to himself, as he slowly turned to face his back to Eddie, his hands going to his hip, “unbelievable… what the fuck?”

“Sorry–” Eddie tried once more getting cut off this time as Steve snapped at him.

“Stop apologizing, okay?” He said slicing the air with his hand before settling back down and putting his hand back on his waist.

Eddie shut up and stared as he watched Steve’s shoulder bunch and his posture shift from relaxed to tense.

“Joking around… joking around?” Steve asked, his tone accusatory even though it was level. Eddie just gaped at him, not sure what to say if he wasn’t supposed to apologize anymore. The question seemed like it had been rhetorical anyway.

Eddie watched as Steve touched his own lips, squeezing them sharply as if he were thinking and trying to pull the sensation away from his mouth at the same time. 

“So, you were just curious to know–what? What it’s like to kiss a guy? To know if you like guys?” He asked, turning to look at Eddie again but not changing his posture at all.

“I don’t like guys, I’m straight,” Eddie said sharply, his stomach tightening, “I was just…”

Steve’s lip started to curl and Eddie shrunk back further, feeling guilty and embarrassed and ashamed in a way he didn’t know how to communicate. In a way he didn’t want to communicate.

“Just… joking around?” Steve repeated back, his dipping so his delivery lacked emotion. That had stung. That hurt more than Eddie thought it would.

Steve shook his head and raised the joint back to his lips to take a hit. 

“Yeah, real funny,” he started to say as he tossed the blunt at Eddie, “a regular riot. Just kiss your buddy Steve. It’s soooo fucking funny that he likes guys.”

Eddie could see that Steve’s cheeks were flushing as his voice hitched slightly. He was keeping it together but his expression was that of a man who had just been betrayed. He looked hurt. It looked like he had just bore his soul and Eddie had laughed in his face. Like he had been cruel for no other reason than to hurt him.

“Steve–” Eddie started, standing up, not sure what to do.

“You’re sorry, I get it,” Steve replied, stepping towards the door and starting to walk away.

“I didn’t mean it like that–” Eddie tried, hurrying after him and grabbing Steve’s shoulder to stop him from leaving. Steve tried to brush him off, but Eddie was determined to hold on.

Steve moved quickly then and it caught Eddie off guard as he grabbed his wrist and whipped around. Steve shoved hard and Eddie stumbled backward until he hit the wall, Steve’s forearm across his chest.

“Don’t–” Steve bit out, sticking his finger aggressively in Eddie’s face, “--fucking touch me.”

His tone was incredibly level but it was obvious that he was holding back real anger. It was easy to forget sometimes that Steve was an athlete. That he could run circles around everyone in the crew and was easily the strongest amongst them under the age of twenty-five. He had survived Russian torture and Eddie had witnessed him using that strength to help the party. Steve was resilient and he was strong… even if he rarely threw a punch. 

Eddie was too shocked to react properly and before he knew it Steve had let go of him and stormed out of the trailer. Fear rang Eddie like a bell as he stood there and listened as a car engine turned on and the sound of tires of gravel filtered through the open screendoor. He was shaking, he was sure, his body reacting to old memories and mortified by what had just transpired.

“Fuck…” Eddie mumbled, his throat tight and his lips feeling as if they were glued together.

“Fuck–” he repeated, heaving as he raised his hands to his face and pressed his wrists into his eyes.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouted feeling the tears build as he let his knees buckle under him. He slid down the wall and crumpled, hands still pressed into his eyes as he started to sob openly. He was soothing the memories of that scared child but he was also mourning Steve. It felt bad. Everything felt bad.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie muttered to himself through his tears, his voice thick with phlegm, “what the fuck was that? Why did you do that? You fucking… asshole!”

He was bullying himself, he knew it, but he couldn’t help how upset he was. He was mad at himself for doing something unbelievably stupid and he was frustrated that he was reacting this way to it. But he couldn’t help that it felt like his heart was about to give out as he gasped in breath and his stomach filled with air. He was practically gulping as he forced himself to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. It was like he was a little kid again. But that wasn’t fair–he didn’t get to act this way. He had been the one that had hurt Steve.

“Fuck,” he gagged, leaning over the sink and turning the tap on. A morbid part of him needed to look and see the fear and sorrow on his face so he looked up at the mirror and cringed at his own appearance. His face was red and tears wouldn’t stop flowing from his eyes. His upper lip had gathered snot and his mouth was turned grotesquely into an open frown.

“Stop it,” he swallowed, gritting his teeth as he stared at himself, “you don’t get to do that.”

Eddie gulped in another breath and stood up straight. He closed his eyes and forced his frustration inwards, forcing himself to just get over it.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” he mumbled, breathing out slowly as he tried to calm down, “stop it!” He flipped the switch from upset into anger, tears still running down his face but no longer hyperventilating.

“What the fuck was that?” he repeated, dropping his gaze to look at himself in the mirror again, “you–you… you fucking creep. Asshole. What the hell? You’re fucking straight. How the hell are you going to fix this, asshole? Why would you give yourself another reason to be labeled a freak?”

The words stung and Eddie swallowed hard, looking away from the mirror finally. He was calming down even if he didn’t feel better, pushing those emotions inside to deal with later. It was too raw right now, it was too much, he couldn’t do this right now.

Eddie let out a breath through gritted teeth and then moved back to the sink. He turned the water on full blast and then started yanking his rings off. He didn’t care where they fell, but once his hands were bare he cupped them under the water and splashed the cold liquid into his face. He gasped at the sensation and did it again, did it until he had washed all the snot and tears from his face, and then turned the faucet off.

Eddie hung his head over the sink for a long moment, breathing through his mouth as the water streamed off his face. He settled slowly and sucked in one last hard breath and then dried his face off.

“Fucking hell man…” Eddie said quietly, sounding more exasperated than anything now. 

He frowned deeply as he walked back into his bedroom. The joint they had been smoking was on the floor at the foot of his bed and it had started to singe a hole into the carpet. Eddie tisked and picked it up before stamping on the burn mark a few times to make sure it didn’t spread.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

Pt2

[dangerousartisanwerewolf]

To All Americans doom scrolling Tumblr right now:

First and foremost I am so sorry for all of you guys. You all did your part but hatred seems to have unfortunately won. I am also incredibly disheartened for all of you and for once in my life I honestly don't know what to say (which is odd for me lol).

Just know

That you did your part. You voted and did your part and that's all you can do.

It's not your fault. Period. Not to sound defeatist but one vote will not decide the fate of an entire election

Life will go on and we will keep on living. I know it doesn't seem like it right now but we will keep going and we will keep living our lives.

Things will get better, it maybe doesnt seem like it right now but things will ger better

I have sadly seen many people on here talk about killing themselves or pleading others to stay alive. As sad as that notion is, it is a very real concern for many now.

As many others have mentioned: PLEASE DON'T KILL YOURSELF OR RELAPSE IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM OVER THE ELECTION RESULTS!!!!!!!!! I know it may feel hopeless and like there is nothing else you can do but please don't. I mentioned many things you can do to distract yourself in a previous post if you want to look.

There are many $u1c1d3 hotlines and other mental health resources available you can access. Please do if you feel like you need to

List of hotlines/ help resources to call/talk to:

Sorry I can't link anything because I am not tech savy but hopefully a list is useful too. Got most of these off of instagram so maybe you'll see the posts circulating around. Keep in mind I am a minor who does not live in the U.S so if these are not the most helpful don't flame me.

LQBTQ Resources:

The 988 lifeline- 988lifeline.org (Call,text, or chat)

The Trevor project- thetrevorproject.org/get-help (24/7 crisis counselling)

SAGE x Hearme-sageusa.org/hearme (On demand mental wellness app)

LGBTQ center directory- lgbtqcenters.org/LGBTCENTERS (Centre directory, find one near you)

PFLAG- pflag.org/findachapter (Find a chapter near you)

QChat space-qchatspace.org (Online Lgbtq community for teens)

Suicide/crisis hotline

Dial 988 or visit 988lifeline.org

Warm lines that don't call the police:

Call blackline- 800-604-5841 (Centre's BIPOC, LGBTQ, Black femme lens)

Trans lifeline-877-585-8660 (U.S number) Canada has one of these too if you need it

Wildflower alliance peer support line- 888-407-4515 (Trained peer supporters

Strong hearts Native helpline- 844-762-8483

Thrive lifeline- 313622-8209 (Trans led and operated)

LGBTQ national help center- 888-843-4564

Hope that helps

Other easy ways to take care of your mental health:

Take a social media break/hiatus

Hang out with friends or family

Get out in nature (Go for a hike, bike ride ect)

distract yourself with comfort media

read

do something creative

practice a hobby

I already have a post with a pretty extensive list of stuff you can do to distract/cope if you need any ideas. I'm not going to copy it all out but its just a little down from this post in my account if you scroll.

Above all please stay safe:

Many have mentioned this but make sure you stay safe too, especially if you are in a red state where people may be looking for an opportunity. As fucked up as it feels to even type this out:

Scrub your socials of anything that may "Give you away" if you feel you need to

If you know someone who is queer, trans, poor, pregnant, an immigrant, needing an abortion, getting an abortion done, or anything that could make living dangerous to them- no you don't. try and keep loved ones safe if you can

Don't out yourself for being any of the above things if you can help it

Don't engage in politics talk with people if you can help it. If someone asks what party you supported don't tell them, they may just be looking for information they can use

One last reminder:

Please remember to:

Eat regular meals/remember to eat at all

Drink water

Take screen breaks (As it will hurt your eyes and give you a headache)

Go to sleep at a regular time

don't bed rot all day

don't doom scroll election content all day

turn off the news at some point, its not healthy to sit and watch the news all day

get out in nature/step outside and touch grass and get some fresh air if you can

talk to your loved ones and seek support if you need

get off social media for a bit (Even if you say all day social media doesnt make a difference to you I know it does)

make sure to take it easy today if you can, take care of your mental health and I hope that everything will be alright for you guys. Stay safe out there

[whiskeynwriting]

Pretty Boy

John “Soap” McTavish x Scottish!Female Reader

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Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Alcohol consumption, size kink for SURE, oral sex (f receiving, brief mention of m receiving), squirting, PDA, fluffiessss, aftercare, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, some hair pulling (baby boy receiving), biting/marking, possessive Johnny (BABY)

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A/N: Johnny is younger here and early in his military life, maybe two-ish years 🥰 There’s also some Scottish Gaelic in here! As always, with the translations (:

Thank you @thesleepingmusicneek for beta-reading once again 😊

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John “Soap” McTavish Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

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It’s comforting, coming here, especially under the pretense of genuine fun. No longer visiting just to drink away your worries, indulging to simply forget. No, the first six months were filled with that, and afterwards, you’d had enough. You needed to live. 

Pushing yourself to be active within your town’s nightlife was difficult at first. Before he left, there wasn’t a night where you’d make an appearance here without him. That extroverted energy was so abundant that it flowed to you, too. But being here alone is nice, it’s new, and serves as a fairly decent distraction. It’s also helped you cope with meeting new people, friends and those with the possibility of being something more. You’ve yet to entertain that idea yet, though, the… something more. That, you still couldn’t get past. 

“Hey, love! Drinking tonight?”

“Why else would I be here?” Returning with your own question, the bartender grins.

With a shrug, Duncan responds, “Could be my good looks.”

“Yeah, yer bum’s oot the windae.” In short, yeah right. He often made you laugh, always being one to joke. “I’ll have some Scotch.” And just as he walks away, you specify, “Speyside.” 

The atmosphere is lively tonight, as it often was on a Friday. In this particular pub, the lights dimmed when night rolled around, offering a moody ambiance. The music didn’t slow, though, the band only continued the same spirited songs. Here, you felt welcomed, you felt like you belonged. Surrounded by your heritage, traditional tunes and familiar faces, tart liquor and raucous voices. Smiling and conversing with your friends came easy, the small town allowing you to know just about everybody in the vicinity. 

Friends from secondary school were enough of a distraction, pulling you aside for shots and dances. Even strangers made their way into your groups, becoming kin by the night’s end. 

“His name’s Alex!”

Glancing over at the red-haired man, you force a smile on your lips. “Good to know.”

“He’s fancied you for a while, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know…” It couldn’t be more obvious, and neither could your disinterest. 

The mere thought of fucking another man was honestly repulsing to you. And sure, you don’t have to fuck him, but that’s certainly where any night with Alex will head. Besides, you’re still so used to him, your Johnny. It hasn’t even been that long since you last had him. Longer than usual, but short enough to still remember. 

“I’m gonna, uh…” Eyes darting to the side, you gulp. “Go to the bathroom.”

She feels bad, your friend, knowing she pressured you a bit. But she can’t help it, she just wants you to get over him. And everyone here agrees. There’s little chance of him coming back, you should just get used to that. And maybe you will, in your own time. 

With slow steps, you take your time getting to the washroom, trying your best to keep your spirits light. It’s a night out, after all, this should be fun. And it was before that eejit came along to ruin it. He didn’t even do anything but he honestly doesn’t have to. He’s made enough unwelcome advances to deter you.

Just as you’re beginning to dwell in your sadness, you pass by the wall of polaroids lining this short hallway. It was Duncan’s idea, taking photos of all the regular patrons. Instantly, you’re drawn toward the picture of both you and him, that night a memory you still hold dearly to your chest. The pair of you look like absolute fools, you’re surprised you remember anything from that night.

“Now, right now!”

Your ribs ached from laughter as he pulled you in his direction, stumbling over your own feet like a little baby. 

“Wait!” A hiccup popped from your throat, which made Johnny snicker. “I’m fair puckled!” Holding your stomach, you took in a few lungfuls of air, regaining your breath. But Johnny didn’t care. 

“C’mon, bonnie.” He insisted, hauling an arm around your shoulder. 

With your chuckles subsiding, you stood beside him, posing for Duncan to take your picture. Reaching down, Johnny grabbed your jaw with his dominant hand, pinching your cheeks and bringing your head closer to him. Your hands clinged to his side as he placed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, and that’s just when the photo was taken. Johnny all over you, pressing his lips to your face while your eyes pinched shut with a happy grin. 

“My sweet bonnie.” He always said. 

After your trip, you return to the bar, sick and tired of dancing and interacting. Inside, you’re not sure how to feel. The memories you have of Johnny are bittersweet. So much love and friendship, for all of it to dissipate into simply… nothing. Or at least, that’s what your friends would have you believe. 

“Two glasses of Scotch, Dunc.” 

As soon as that voice hits the air, your eyes widen, instantly flashing over to Duncan’s. While towel-drying one of the bsr’s glasses, he grins, giving you a knowing nod. 

“Speyside.” The voice then specifies, finally prompting you to turn your head. 

And standing beside you, leaning against the bar’s edge, is a taller, broad man. Arms lined with tan and sculpted muscles, smile bright and blue eyes even brighter. But the part that stands out the most, the part that makes him… him, is that longer stripe of hair running across the top of his head. 

“Johnny!” Squealing his name, you throw yourself into his arms, already open and waiting. 

“Bonnie,” That deep chuckle vibrates through his chest and into your own, smile growing evermore. The familiar scent of sweet patchouli wafts from his body, chiseled muscles holding you against his chest. Your entire body tenses with excitement, butterflies erupting in your belly when he tucks his head into your neck - he still loves me.

“You’re back.” Your tone wavers a bit as you say it, feeling his nose nuzzle lightly against your skin. Lifting your hand, your fingers brush through the longer air at the nape of his neck, standing on your tip-toes to fully encircle your arms around him. His body feels firm, sturdy and muscular, even more so than before. 

“Yeah,” He says with a soft voice, rubbing your back fondly. “Few months late, but who’s countin’?” 

Leaning back, you scoff, giving his hardened chest a little smack. “Me.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Johnny quips, rolling his eyes as he pulls you back in. “All in the past. I’m home now, baby.” 

With the way you’re speaking to each other, you’d think you were still together. But that’s not how things are, not anymore. Not… officially. But with him returning home every six months, you’d come to expect these “surprise” arrivals. 

“I was starting to think you’d never come back.” Admitting quietly, you release a contented breath. This time around, six months turned to ten, and your hopes were quickly deflated. And the advice and comments of your friends didn’t help. 

“Hey,” He chastises lightly, frowning. “Don’t give up on me that easily.” 

Sliding the glasses onto the bartop, Duncan pushes one toward you, and one toward him. With stars in your eyes, you watch Johnny lift the glass, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a swig. His biceps flex slightly as he lifts and lowers the cup, the gray fabric around his midsection hugging him tightly. The way his dark jeans tighten around his hips and ass also draws your attention, already obsessed with him all over again. And that mohawk, that signature look all gelled up and styled. A fairly new hairdo he’s kept for nearly a year now, and you’d be lying to say you don’t fancy it. 

Taking a seat beside you at the bar, Johnny converses with Duncan, catching up with his old friend. And Lord, all you can do is stare; how you missed him. Even after so many months apart, you find him captivating - that dazzling smile, those beautiful, bright blue eyes. How could one man be so goddamn handsome? So pretty?

“Been keeping after her while I’m gone, Dunc?” Johnny quips, eyeing you from the side. 

“Aye,” He nods, chuckling. “She’s been sendin’ all the boys home with their tails between their legs.”

“Ohh,” Fully turning toward you, he raises his brows. “Have you now?”

The boy's small compliments make a light heat warm your cheeks, and Johnny can tell. Reaching out, he taps your chin, giving you a small wink.

“Can’t blame them for tryin’ though, can I? Still just as beautiful, lass…” Leaning forward, he smooths his dominant hand over the top of your thigh, adding in with a quieter tone, “And just as fit.”

Your jaw drops into a wide grin, scoffing. “John Malcolm.” Scolding him playfully, you reach out, tapping the bulging muscle of his arm. And you suddenly find yourself wishing to touch it, hold his arm and squeeze it. 

Duncan leaves the two of you be, knowing how long you’ve waited for this. He’s honestly the only one that still held out hope. The rest of your friends take account of Johnny’s presence, choosing to stay to themselves, as well. Looks like they were proven wrong. 

“So, is life better in the military?” There’s a bit of humor in your voice, and a dash of flirtation on your lips. And while you try to make yourself seem confident and enticing, the fact that his hand still hasn’t moved from your thigh has you melting. 

He shrugs, smiling. “I think so, yeah. Still missin’ you, though, lass.”

“Yeah, sure.” Looking back down at your glass, the warmth in your cheeks has now spread to your ears and neck. You hope he’s telling the truth. “What’s your rank now?”

“Corporal.” Pride positively blooms within him, happy that you asked. “Hoping to rise to Sergeant.” 

“Impressive.” Tilting your head, you offer him a cheeky expression, eyeing him up and down.

“Still like what you see?” Johnny teases, fingers stroking the fabric of your jeans.

“Very much so.” It’s like every time he came home, he was that much bigger, that much stronger. It might sound silly, maybe even primitive, but Johnny seemed like such a man now. You’ve seen him grow since primary school, nearly your entire childhood spent together. And to see how he’s grown, it’s not only impressive, it’s wildly attractive. 

There’s nothing more Johnny missed from civilian life than you, and that’s the truth. But when he was on base and training, he didn’t have much time to think about you. Mainly, these thoughts came into his mind at night, when he was lonely, or horny. A lot of the time, both. 

Round after round, Johnny pays for your drinks, not letting you out of his sight. He’s scooted his seat closer to yours to where your legs are touching, his hand still on your thigh. Every now and then, he’s squeezing it, movements becoming firmer and firmer until he’s leaning in toward your cheek. Sloppily, he kisses your skin, pressing his lips into the plumpness of your cute cheek while grinning. He’s just so in love with you, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Johnny,” Laughing, your body tingles with happiness. 

“Wha?” He questions, not backing away even a single inch. “Not want me to? Got some other lad’s eyes on you?”

“Fuck no.” Instantly, you’re turning your head to face him. “Only you.”

Those azure eyes flutter between your own eager orbs and your slightly parted lips, allowing your hands to lift to his face and bring him in. Familiar lips meet in the middle, pressing fondly together, one warm hand rising to your cheek as he moves with your kiss. This is so easy, comforting. There’s excitement to it for sure, but nothing entirely new. You’re falling into him, into his endless embrace. 

“Missed you,” He whispers, mouthing at you. “Thought about you.”

At this point, you’re not even worried about anyone else seeing your overt public displays of affection. You kiss him like it’s an addiction, tongue slipping across his lower lip when you hear his sweet admission. 

There’s something about you that lights a fire in his depths. He knows who you are, just as stunning on the inside as you are on the out. Not only are you a pretty little thing, with gorgeous hair and a smile that could kill, but you’re sexy as all hell, too. You’re the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen, even throughout his teen years, his life in the military, he’s never met anyone that even compares. And he can’t get enough of you, can’t believe you fell for him, too. 

He’s not sure when he’ll tell you, if he’ll tell you, but he keeps a small booklet of pictures with you in it. No longer than a day or so goes by without him looking at it, and he’s thrilled to see that the real image is still better than the photos. At times, while laying in his cot at night, he wonders if someone else has finally gotten a hold of you, has finally swooped in and taken advantage of his absence. And clearly, others have tried, but you haven’t let them. They're not him.

Swallowing, you take in a short breath, eager to ask him your usual question. “Are you spending the night?”

Just like always, he responds with, “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

*

*

*

By the time your feet are hitting the pavement, it’s late, the night growing chilly. But you can barely feel it, what with the energy rolling through your body. And the heat from Johnny’s hand only comforts you further, palm dwarfing your own with thick fingers wrapping around your much smaller ones. 

“You been lonesome while I’m gone?” His tone hints at a bit of sarcasm, but you know there’s genuine curiosity behind it.

“Mostly.” And when he hears the sincerity in your voice, he’s pulling his hand away from yours and looping that same arm around your shoulders. Here, he pulls you in, giving the side of your head a kiss.

“I’m here, now.”

“Only for a little bit.” You grumble in response, only slightly tipsy. Maybe more.

Johnny’s quiet for a moment, sighing. “Don’t worry about that.” He’ll talk to you about it later. 

Glancing over at you, he peers down, his height giving him quite the advantage when looking down your already low shirt. Your cleavage damn near makes him drool, forcing a rush of blood to the sensitive space beneath his pants. And he thinks he’s being sly about it until you look up with a smirk. 

“Still fancy me that much, Johnny?” Again, you’re trying to act cocky, display your confidence to him. But on the inside, you’re burning up. All you want is for him to compliment and praise you, make you feel small and warm beneath him, just like he used to. And he knows that.

Turning, Johnny pushes himself against you, leading you backward into one of the side alleys along the street. It takes your breath away, a small gasp puffing past your lips when your back hits the brick. With his hands falling to your outer arms, Johnny releases a heavy breath, head ducking down toward your mouth. Meeting him halfway, you tilt your chin up, feeling the crash of his lips. One of those broad palms finds its way to your jaw, holding you in place while he licks over your lips. His movements are much more passionate than before, back when he kissed you in the bar. It feels hurried and heated, like he needed you right here and now. 

“Of course I do.” He says between breaths, mouth opening to slide against your own. 

His lips are soft and smooth, the taste of his tongue sweet like candy. And these sloppy kisses are John’s forte, all tongue and spit and it’s all so familiar to you. Heart jumping against your ribs, you feel Johnny’s free hand find your chest, softly massaging your tits. 

“John,” Exhaling airily, you reach up with both hands, sliding them over his wide shoulders. 

“Wearin’ such a low shirt, lass.” He whispers into your ear, lips brushing against the skin.

It makes you feel vulnerable, the way his hand sneaks beneath the fabric, brushing your shirt up just a pinch within the alley’s darkness. Here, he cups you over your bra, fingers massaging you firmly. 

“Missed these.” Mouthing at your neck, he hears you whine when his teeth drag across the crux of it, tongue laving over the hot skin. And he makes his own strangled noise when your nails dig into the back of his neck. 

“You’re so much bigger…” Whispering as if you’d be heard, you mumble against his lips, fingers reaching for the longer hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Yeah?” That surely strokes his ego, pretty grin shining in the moonlight. 

“Mhm,” Nodding, you bring him in again, laying your tongue out into his mouth.

“Christ,” He shivers, bicep bulging as his hand cups your face. “Let’s get you home.”

Dizzily, you stumble after him, feeling the firm pull of his hand in yours once again. With a lovesick grin on your face, you let Johnny lead you back to your flat. And the rest of the walk is easy enough, only being a few more blocks. 

With a smirk, his hand slides into the back pocket of your jeans, fishing out your keys. Unlocking your door, his hand on your lower back guides you inside, shutting it in an instant. With already half-lidded eyes, he turns to you, licking his lower lip and reaching for you again. This time, your back meets the wall with a much softer embrace, Johnny’s arms looping around your midsection. Hands lowering, he finds the curves of your perfect backside, squeezing you gently while his lips return to you. 

Here, in the comfort of your home, John begins to consume you, soft and slow. With one, passionate grab on your ass, he’s moaning, hot breath washing over your features. Trailing your fingers up, they tangle into the strands near the back of his neck, and he groans. Your nails scratch lightly over his skin, fingers pulling gently on his hair. 

“Yeah…” Johnny’s liquor-soaked tongue continues to refamiliarize itself with your own, mouthing at you with sloppy licks and sucks. “Miss your fingers on me.”

“Miss feeling you, baby.” It’s like he gets more fit every time you see him, muscles expanding, body growing. His firm chest and stomach, strong back and arms, and that pretty face. “Johnny,”

Before you can speak any further, the hand not on your face falls to your jeans, cupping you eagerly. It forces a gasp from your mouth, immediately swallowed by him.

“Wanna taste you, bonnie.”

“Ugh,” Rolling your eyes up, your head falls back onto the wall as he begins sliding down. You were wondering when he’d ask.

This, in your opinion, is what he was best at. Sex with Johnny was always intense, passionate and heated, whether it was slow or fast. But using his mouth, that’s definitely his most valuable weapon. 

Thick fingers undo the button on your jeans, opening your zipper to reveal your purple, cotton panties. And he moans audibly, fully settling on his knees so he can lean in to kiss them. Soft lips press to your covered mound, your hands falling naturally to his head. 

“Sweetest taste,” He mumbles, mouthing at the fabric and pushing your jeans down to your ankles. Hooking his fingers into the hemline of your panties, you feel his tongue lave over the fabric, just barely separated from him.

“Johnny… please.”

He doesn’t listen, nor does he respond; he’s going at his own pace. 

The humid fan of Johnny’s breath wafts across your smooth skin, pooling your panties on the ground, just above your jeans. Tilting your head down, you become still, waiting for his movement. With your fingers sifting through the longer stripe of hair at the top of his head, he leans in, sticking his tongue out and running it up your seam to poke teasingly at the peak of your sex. 

“B-Baby,” 

The excitement that shoots through your body is addicting, feeling him lick tenderly at the crease between your outer lips, tongue diving deeper with every stroke. He can’t fully get to you from this angle, not in the way he wants to, but he likes this. The teasing nature of it is getting him harder than ever, tip already leaking in his pants. So, he licks into you, fingers pressing into your thighs as he begins to pull them apart. Well, as much as he can while your feet are still trapped in your pants. 

“John…” Already fisting his mohawk, you wiggle your feet, trying to ask him to take them off the rest of the way.

Hurriedly, he gives in, breaths heavy and fast as he removes your shoes, jeans, and panties from your feet. Quickly tossing them further behind his knelt form, he returns, forcing one of your legs up onto his shoulder. The strength behind his movements has you inhaling sharply, your calf draping down his back as he moves in. Instantly, he’s stuffing his tongue inside, licking directly into your channel. The way his tongue strokes you is languid, firm, caressing your inner skin fondly. 

The feeling of being exposed in your own home is foreign to you, your legs open wide for him in the middle of your entryway. But you’re getting used to this again, used to him.

Flattening his tongue, he rubs it up your lips until he reaches your clit, the talented muscle swirling around it. Pausing, Johnny takes a beat to suck two fingers into his mouth before prodding the tips of them at your center.  

“Yes,” Shoving your hips toward him, the back of your head hits the wall again, pulling him in by his pretty brown hair. 

Smoothly, his fingers sink into you, your soldier moaning from the sting of your fingers and nails. From the moment he got his mouth on you, his receptive buds tingled from your taste. How he fucking missed it. He’d reminisce on these moments back on base, mouth watering from the memory of your taste. It made him drool, saliva currently pooling from the corners of his mouth. Sloppily, it runs down his chin, listening to the wet squelch of your cunt as it sucks his fingers in again and again. He pumps them into you steadily, beginning to curl them when hitting deep. 

Lowering his tongue, he laps at your wet folds before returning to suck your engorged clitoris into his mouth. He suckles on it, whimpering softly when you buck your hips against him. With his free hand, he urges you on, cupping and squeezing your ass to push you further toward him.

“Oh my god, yes.” Rolling your hips, you grind yourself down onto his face, feeling his short stubble scratch along the insides of your thighs. 

He lets you ride his face, rutting over his mouth like it’s the last time you’ll ever get the chance to. Continuing to mouth at your juicy pleasure center, Johnny moans roughly against you, listening to your own wanton breaths. 

While prodding at your core, he hits something special, shooting euphoria throughout your entire body. It forces your pelvis forward, body chasing its high. You can feel it rising, the heat coiling in your belly. 

“Bleedin’ Jesus,” Johnny exhales, eyes closed as he devours you. “Dripping on my face, lass.”

“Johnny,” Whining above his kneeling form makes him grin, a low groan emanating from his chest. 

“Give it to me,” He suddenly demands, voice lower and more authoritative. “Right in my mouth.”

His words have you quivering, stomach muscles convulsing as you curl down toward him. A shrill gasp spills from your mouth, watching those dazzling azure eyes open to stare up at you from between your legs. Punching his fingers into your cunt, the hot air of his moans floats directly over you, soaking into your skin. And then he’s opening his mouth, just as you begin to gush. 

“John,” Your hips flinch from the force of it, Johnny’s free hand holding you up against the wall. His hand grips your waist, fingers bruising your skin.

Pleasure bursts through your body, shivering from your hips all the way up to your chest. And he holds you through it, through every twitch and quiver, through every high whine and tiny whimper. And Johnny just adores the way you hold onto him, fisting his hair while you ride out your high on his handsome face. 

Johnny’s mouth remains open against your cunt, fingers slowing their pace as he swallows down your cum. Breath escaping him, he gives in to the incredible pulse below his belt, hips jerking ever so slightly. Dragging his fingers from your center, he drops his shoulder, allowing your leg to slide off of him. And then he’s standing, pressing his body against you before grabbing onto your face. In a much hungrier pace than before, he kisses you, holding the hinge of your jaw open and moaning when you let him lick inside. 

Still dizzy from your high, you can just barely make out the wetness on his skin, your slick covering his lips and chin and cheeks. The taste of your release lingers on his tongue, lips sloppy as he swaps his spit with your own. 

Something about Johnny coming home to have the sweetest, nastiest sex of his life just felt invigorating to you. Every time, it’s just as good as the last, if not even better. 

“Fuck me,” That thick, deep voice, it gets you every time.

In the heat of it all, Johnny’s hands are lowering to your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his toned waist. Clinging to the sturdiness of his body, you hold his beautiful face, bringing his mouth back to you while he begins rolling his hips between your legs. Johnny’s moans, soft and sweet, a genuine melody, flow freely into the surrounding air while he grinds against you. He lets you lead the kiss, focusing on himself for just a minute. The wetness from your cunt wets the front of his pants, girth twitching beneath its confines. Desperately, he rubs himself against you, head lowering to rest against your neck. From the noises he’s making, the intense grunts and groans, you’d think he was fully fucking you. 

“Johnny, baby,” You can feel him throbbing against your naked skin, and you want him. “Please.”

Allowing your entire weight to fall onto him, he picks you up from the wall, turning to stride toward your bedroom. Nothing about your flat has changed, not a single detail amiss since he last saw it. At times, he thinks of this place as his own home. Sure, he visits family, his mom, his sisters, but this is where he stays. Here, with you. 

Kicking your door the rest of the way open, he walks inside, mouthing along the slope of your neck. He listens to your girlish sigh as he lays you on your bed, lifting your shirt off in the process. And you expect him to lay over you, return his attention to you, but he doesn’t. Standing at his full height, Johnny rips off his shirt before those strong hands fall to his zipper and belt. 

Left in only your bra, you watch him, lifting yourself up onto your forearms to lean back against them. In his hurry, he doesn’t see your wanting stare. But upon realization of it, he grins. 

“Look any different from the last time?” He asks, cocky as ever. 

“Always.” Reaching out, you lay a hand across his abdomen, more defined than it was almost a year ago.

Johnny’s abs made your mouth fucking water, his toned muscles and firm pecs. And his v-line, fuck did that get you going. Hair scatters his entire abdomen and it just makes you want to lick him. He’s so well-built, so pretty and fit. He’s just so perfect.

Sitting upright, you lean in, hands falling to his sides as your lips find his skin. Warm and smooth beneath your mouth, you kiss him, tongue laying out to lick along the lines of definition. 

“Christ, I missed you.” Shaking his head, he runs a hand over your hair, admiring you. 

He hadn’t finished undoing his pants, so you take up the task yourself. His belt is easy enough, granting you access to his zipper. Sliding it down, you’re greeted with navy blue boxers, the front dampened from his excitement. 

“You want it?” Johnny whispers, staring down at you with lidded eyes, petting your hair.

Your answer comes in the form of your next action, pulling him gently from his boxers. In your hand, he’s warm, thick and heavy. A glistening drop of precum falls from his tip, your thumb catching it before rubbing over his sensitive skin. 

“Later,” He then decides, licking his lower lip with a swallow. “You can spoil me tomorrow.”

“What if I want to now?” Your voice is tender and sweet, eyes peeking up at him.

“You don’t have a choice.” Grinning widely, he dips down toward you, taking your chin in his hand. 

Rising with his gentle tug, you return to your feet, leaning up into his kiss. Pressing into you, Johnny pushes your body onto the bed, lips never leaving. Easily, his hands slide around your back, undoing the clips of your bra while he moves to mouth at your neck. 

“Let me see ‘em,” He whispers, dragging the edge of his teeth over your collarbone. 

He drags the straps down your arms, discarding the last piece of clothing carelessly onto the floor. Your room is dark, the light switches empty of touch. But Johnny can still see you, the streetlamp outside your window illuminating his view. 

While caressing your waist with those strong, calloused hands, Johnny stares at your chest. That warm tongue makes a home for itself between your breasts, licking up the sweet valley of your cleavage. Breathing steadily, you let him enjoy you like this, indulging in you all over again. Turning his head, he sucks on the slopes of them, teasing his tongue around your nipple until you whine. 

“Baby, come oonnn.”

With a smirk, he’s wrapping his lips around one of your pebbled peaks, smooshing his face against your soft flesh. He sucks on you tenderly, lips moving in little, pulsing motions. Every now and then, his tongue will come out, laying flat against you. And the best thing about this, were the sounds he made. Boyish moans fall from his lips as he continues, completely losing himself in this. 

Slowly, your legs wrap around his naked waist, warm and firm against your thighs as you pull him further in. The second you feel the weight of him hit your inner thigh, you’re releasing an airy gasp, feeling his shaft slide between your exposed lips. 

“Oh, Christ…” Dropping his forehead down, he rests it against the center of your chest. Nestled between your velvety folds, he twitches, stomach muscles tightening with excitement. 

With careful motions, he moves his hips, sliding himself against your entrance but not yet diving in. His stiffened length prompts your body’s aroused reaction, wetness coating his shaft while the noise of it spills into the room. Back and forth, his hips sway, listening to your timid breaths, your gorgeous body shuddering every time he runs over the peak of your sex. 

“I just wanna lose myself in you…” Johnny whispers into the darkness fondly, tip catching at your entrance. 

While your breasts offer him a comfortable resting place, he wants to be closer to you, closer to that pretty face. So, he lifts his head, pressing his hairline against your temple as he begins to slide in. Smooth and slow, he breaches you, one of your arms looping around his neck for support while your other hand grabs at his bicep. In unison, your lips part, moans slipping between the nonexistent space between the two of you.

The stretch is gentle, welcoming. There’s just something so specific about this, about the way you open up for him, the way your sex overtly accepts him. You welcome him in like you’ve been waiting for this very moment since the last time he left, which isn’t far from the truth.

Burying himself entirely in your tight heat, he throbs forcefully, uncontrollably. Once his pelvis meets your own, spreading your legs even further around him, your fingers find his hair once again. Running your digits through that feathery stripe of hair makes him sigh, a happy smile blooming right beside your cheek. 

“Mm…” Johnny hums pleasantly, nose rubbing against you ever so gently. He could be so sweet, he was always sweet. 

The hairs at his base scratch kindly at your delicate skin, your very center fluttering from the contact. Pressing further between your legs, John grinds himself into you, kissing your cheek while you adjust to his size. You’ve taken him countless times and still, his girth always seemed to surprise you. Even more satisfying was his length, never ceasing to hit the deepest parts of you.

“You always feel so good, mo leannan…” You’re whispering to him, the Gaelic words making his heart beat with overwhelming affection. (My sweetheart)

“I come back for you,” He suddenly says, huffing out a harsh breath. “Every time, it’s for you.”

When he says this, he begins to move, creating a steady yet languid pace. Upon his first reentry, he groans openly into your ear, that deep voice creating the loveliest sounds. Johnny’s moans were always so beautiful, not too rushed or frantic, but smooth and deep.

Lovingly, his head ducks down to your neck, reveling in the way you hold onto him. One of the things Johnny enjoys most about sex is the closeness, the body heat. The hand you had on his bicep loops beneath his arm, scratching slightly at his back while your other arm stays wrapped around his neck. You can feel every bit of him this way, every flexing muscle, every firm plane of skin.

“Jesus,” Your lover grunts, left hand sliding up the mattress to hold the back of your head. 

Hot and clenching, you pull him in, stroke after stroke. And it’s killing him. You feel ethereal, like everything he needs, everything he’s been missing. 

Hitting a particularly sensitive spot, you cry out a bit louder for him, soft moans turning into high whines and little whimpers. Fingernails dig into his sculpted back, feeling Johnny angle his hips just right. 

“Yeah, right there…” Mumbling into your neck, he mouths at you, wrapping his right arm around your lower back. Here, he lifts your hips, encouraging you to meet his thrusts. And you instantly do.

With one arm holding your back, and the other beneath your head, he keeps you close to him, chests pressing together, stomach rubbing against the other’s. Already, he feels flush, panting and moaning from the way your entire body squeezes him, especially when your ankles hook around his lower back. That turns him wild, fucking himself into you like he’ll never get the chance to again, pressing his lips to your cheek before moving his head to find your lips. 

“J-John, baby…” The small whimpers slipping past your lips prompts a certain cluster of emotions to form within him. You’re so special to him, so sweet and delicate, his perfect lass. And all at once, regret swirls inside his gut, regret for leaving you, for not taking care of you. He wants to, wants to give you everything he can, and he hasn’t been doing that. 

Thrusting into you without abandon forces the breath from his lungs, breathing into your space, feeling your own wafts of warm air. Your kisses are passionate, gasps falling into the other’s mouth while your tongues dance together in messy patterns. It’s intoxicating, this feeling with him, the sensation you create when together. 

Strong hips continue to pump his swollen length into you, head hitting the deepest parts of your being, shaft keeping you spread. 

“Don’t, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” The way you sound, it’s everything he’s dreamed of since being gone. 

“Beautiful fuckin’ thing,” He suddenly huffs, shaking his head. His eyes don’t open as he speaks, entirely lost in the feeling of you. “Mine, always mine. No matter where I go, how long it’s been…”

“Johnny…” There hasn’t been a moment during his past visits where he’s admitted something like this. It was too hard to admit while he was constantly away. You both agreed to part ways, ending your “official” relationship. And even though he always returns to you, it’s never prompted a continuation of what you once had. 

Before you can register what’s happening, he’s pulling out of you and planting his hands on your hips. Flipping you onto your stomach, he slides back in, earning a shrill gasp from your end. With his hands flat on the bed, his hips bounce against your ass, breaths punching from his chest. Something comes over him, he can feel it and you can, too. Leaning down, Johnny’s mouth finds your skin, biting at your back. What first appears as gentle nips turn into mouthfuls of skin, digging his teeth in hard enough to leave marks - you’re his. The subtle sting, the rush of adrenaline it creates, it’s overwhelming. From this angle, he feels even bigger than before, the slap of his pelvis against your backside ringing throughout your bedroom. Leaning further in, Johnny kisses along your shoulder and neck, your skin wet from him and your own sweat. And then his dominant hand is sliding across your hip, lowering to grab a fistful of your ass. 

Caressing his forehead against the back of your neck, he whispers, “Bonnie bell,” Entirely out of breath, Johnny admits again, “I missed you.”

Reaching around, you fist the hair along the back of his head, dry moans scratching their way through your throat. Shakily, you respond, “I n-need you.”

“You have me,” He’s confident in promising this to you. “You have me, baby.”

The sweet moment fades when you feel him throb against your inner walls, shoving your face down into the pillows as you whimper for him. 

“So fuckin’ wet…” John whispers, eyes closed as he begins to feel that dull heat rise within his depths. 

“Will you cum? Inside me?” He can barely hear you, your voice muffled by the pillows. But he answers anyway.

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

As soon as you ask, he feels it hit him, that powerful wave of pleasure. It wreaks havoc on Johnny’s body, convulsing above you as he drops to your back. His hips twitch from pleasure, shaking with every milky rope that spurts from him. And once his chest hits your back, he’s wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you impossibly close, clinging to you in an almost painfully tight embrace. 

Your fingers massage his head sweetly, stroking through his hair kindly. His mouth falls openly against your neck, soft and damp. John’s body is hot above your own, his warmth leaking into you with every one of his euphoric moans. He feels the pleasure of it fill every limb, every vein; this type of high, it’s nowhere else he can find. 

It’s ages before he’s pulling out, allowing himself to soften inside your sickeningly sweet pussy. His mouth drags across the entirety of your neck, your shoulders and back, releasing soft moans as he displays his adoration for you. Dropping to your backside, he mouths at it, finally able to worship his most adored feature on you. With both hands, he grabs you, massages you and pulls you apart while licking up the curves. Johnny sucks his mark onto you, planting a deep bruise. And while it’s erotic, it’s sensual, too. Deeply sweet in his own way. 

“Mo ghrádh…” A jolt thrums throughout your chest when you hear him speak these simple words. My love.

“You stay.” He then says to you softly, turning to leave the room. And you know exactly what he’s doing. And when he’s back, he’s instructing gently, “Up.” 

Smiling, you lift your hips for him, feeling the cool wipe of a cloth between your legs. Every time, without fail, he’d clean you, show his gratitude in this way. And while he knew you went to the bathroom after you two were done, he still wanted to do this for you. Even while you were busy doing that, he took your water bottle from your nightstand, filling it before putting it back. He just wants to make you comfortable, wants you to know you’re cared for. And by the time you came back, you were met with the sight of your Johnny baby, your pretty boy, all cuddled up in your bed. 

“C’mere,” He calls quietly, a sleepy smile on his lips as he lifts the covers. 

Hopping eagerly into bed, you cuddle happily within the embrace of Johnny’s strong arms. Wrapping around you, he pulls you in, allowing you to relax against his chest. You always snuggled this way, facing each other, heads resting against the other’s as you dozed off together. And he finds himself feeling the most at peace this way, in these moments. There wasn’t a time he felt closer to you. 

*

*

*

It was something he always liked,  something that made him smile and giggle. The way your hands caressed his head, fingers sliding up through his tall strands as you styled them, it just made him so happy. With his new profession, Johnny felt the need to be serious almost constantly. He had an image to uphold, after all. He’s the best at what he does, and is only continuing to sharpen his skills. But with you, he could let go. He could be himself again. And the real Johnny, he was goofy. He was silly and sweet, curious about the world with a childlike innocence that made your heart flutter with emotion. 

“I’ve heard this one so many times.” Whispering, your smile forms fondly in the early morning light. 

Raking your fingers through Johnny’s hair, you pause to scoop a bit more gel from the jar, styling his mohawk. Sitting comfortably on his lap, Johnny rests back against the headboard of your bed, watching you work with a sleepy grin. Both of those kind hands run up and down your thighs, squeezing you every now and then.

“It’s one of my favorites.” He says, replying to your comment about the song he’d put on. 

Just inches from his beautiful face, you feel the breath of his words form along your lips; prompting you to ask kindly, “Doesn’t it get boring, though? Listening to the same songs over and over again?”

“Nah,” He grins, shaking his head but stopping when you frown at him, your fingers stilling in his longer locks. “All the best ones remind me of you.”

“Johnny,” You reply, touched by his admission. But he just shrugs. 

“I see you in all my favorite songs.” 

He’d woken up beside you this morning, limbs tangled with yours, the taste of your cunt still on his tongue. And he reveled in that, the sensation nurturing his already rising erection, the one that rose nearly every morning. But most important about this morning, was the fact that he gets to spend it with you. 

Since highschool, you’d been inseparable. Lovebirds since you were fifteen, stealing glances at each other until he got the nerve to make a real move. And after that, you were hooked. Even when he left, after so many years together, he was never truly out of your head. From the first time you met, the first time you held hands, the first time you kissed… everything was special from the very moment you laid your eyes on him. This is the most intricate, romantic, and passionate relationship either of you had been in. 

It haunted you, watching him leave and knowing that your sweet boy, your Johnny baby, was going off to train and fight. And most importantly, leave you. But you can’t think about that, not when he’s right here with you.

“Mo ghrádh…” He mutters again, staring up at you with absolute adoration.

All you do is smile at those words, shaking your head with slight disbelief. But he wants more, he’s calling for your attention. 

“Sweet cailín,” Johnny coos, both hands lifting to your cheeks. (Sweet girl)

“What, baby?” Your voice is just as small and sweet as his when you respond.

Bringing you in with a gentle pull, Johnny reunites your lips, the kiss tender and brief. But then another follows, and another, until you’re molding yourself to him all over again.

“Have you had anyone inside you, bonnie?” He suddenly asks, the question entirely unexpected. “Since I last left?” It’s said quietly, carefully; he’s afraid of the answer, but is quickly reassured. 

“No.” Holding onto him with your arms looped around his neck, you give him your full attention, having completely forgotten about his hair. “Only you, Johnny.”

“Really?”

“Yes… have… have you?”

“No, no one.” His response is quick, expressed through a deep release of breath. Running a hand down your back, he admits, “Can’t bring myself to.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah, dove?” He misses that nickname, so common  and simple but so sweet when spoken by you.

“I love you.” Saying it feels like an enormous release, your emotional wellbeing blossoming just from being able to tell him again. “I still do.” 

He smiles, head moving gently against you. “Don’t think I could ever not love you.”

“Johnny,” Sucking in an emotional breath, you decide to be fully vulnerable with him, with your best friend. “I w-want, I miss you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know…” Johnny thought breaking things off was the best thing for the two of you, he really did, but he’s learning now that that’s far from the truth. And seeing you like this, so vulnerable and wanting, it’s crushing him.

Pushing yourself forward against his chest, you sigh, turning your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder. Broad hands run lovingly up and down your back, soothing you.

“I miss being yours.” Comes your small whisper, breath floating over his neck.

A sudden surge of possessiveness comes over him, strong arms squeezing you tight. “You are mine.”

“Not like I used to be, Johnny…” Sadness consumes you entirely, the emotion ruining your delightful morning. But it would’ve come out sooner or later, and right now, it’s practically spilling from your heart. “Would, would you ever want that? Again?”

For a moment, he stays quiet. He’s trying to figure out how he should word this.

“I wouldn’t expect anything new from you, I promise I wouldn’t.” Desperation seeps from your pores but you’re past the point of caring. You’re in love with him, you can’t help it. “I know you can’t talk to me while you’re gone. It’s just, I… I miss it. 

“You know…” He finally says, “I’m kinda sick ‘o that, anyways.”

“What do you mean?” Sliding one hand down his chest, your pointer finger runs over him, creating little patterns.

“Bein’ without you.”

A bright grin slowly cracks across your face when he says it. “Really?”

He shrugs, grinning himself. “Always miss you. Always think about the lads here, someone comin’ into swoop you up. I cannae let that happen, bonnie.”

Lifting your head, you find that cute little smirk. Jesus, how the hell is he so pretty? 

“There’s no one here that could ever replace you.” One hand then finds his cheek, his chiseled jawline. 

“This doesn’t mean I’ll be home more often though, lass. Still goin’ ta be busy on base.” 

Shrugging, you answer simply with, “I figured. I mean, it won’t be any different.”

“Except that I’ll write to you, when I can. I will.” 

“I’ll write back.” Smiling brightly, you almost can’t contain your giddiness. “Sometimes… it feels like we never even broke up.”

“Yeah,” Johnny smiles widely, “But I like that.”

For just a second, you’re silent, smiling like a fool in front of him. “Yeah… me too.” A timid grin then pulls at your lips, eyes dipping down to watch your finger move over his chest. “Always knowing you’re around… always coming back to me.”

“And I always will.” He says quickly, lifting your chin for you to look at him, capitalizing on his statement. 

“Promise me?”

“Yeah, bonnie bell.” Barely tilting his chin, Johnny presses his lips to your own. “I promise.”

[silverskye13]

HI! So i just recently read Redstone and Sculk and I've been asking myself something.

If Zeds Hels would still be alive, how would he and Tangunish interact? Would they actually be friends?

I think they would find a lot of camaraderie in each other, and I think they could be friends, but I don't necessarily think it would be a healthy friendship.

Where I had placed hels!Zed in his character arc, Tanguish would have found him when he was flagging, very close to returning to the universe. He was still someone who enjoyed his gadgets, and enjoyed making new things, but he was also someone depressed and worried and dealing with his own mortality. I think he and Tanguish would have a bad cycle of feeding off of each other's anxieties, and I think despite Tanguish's people pleasing nature, he wouldn't have been strong enough to break the spirals. At that point in his development, he was more concerned with his own goals and comfort to make actionable change in someone. He changed Helsknight for the gentler, only because his reactions to Helsknight's behavior struck a chord with Helsknight's sense of honor. Tanguish was also, at that time in the story, dealing with his own existential fears about losing people, and he wasn't coping too terribly well.

So you have one character who is depressed and worried about dying, and who sees no real way out. And you have one character who is depressed and worried about death, who sees no way of fixing a problem that he is now realizing will be a regular part of his life. They could offer small comfort for each other in little things, and little things can do a lot, but I don't think they would have done well together over all. A lot of Sad Boys Hours.

[n--n]

So can you elaborate on the lyrics of Poison being uninspired? I think a big problem with them is that there’s supposed to be a dramatic switch up in tone at the end, but it’s not actually big because the song has no dark subtext, the darkness is pure text. You can’t have a character say “My stories gonna end with me dead from your poison” then expect us to be shocked when the song gets sad in the end.

Addict was something people could have actually comfortably danced to in the club, which makes it hit when the concept is flipped to the dark side of itself, and it fits thematically, because it’s him coming down from his high, and he’s taking in what’s become of his life. Angel wasn’t happy before the ending of Poison so why is the song suddenly sad now like anything has changed?

But to me the lyrics seem unique enough. Like I can’t say any of them are cliches or platitudes. Though it kind of annoys me that the second verse like a regular pop song, but a real pop song has eight lines in verse one, this one has six and the Yeah yeah yeahs don’t count, so the second verse has an odd number of lines and just feels incomplete. That could be an example of it being uninspired.

Thank you for this ask it gives me an excuse to surgically open this song and really understand why it bothers me so much. Also it's 12 and I haven't rewatched it in a while so I might come back tomorrow and rewrite this so take it w a grain of salt sorry abt that.

In a nutshell- it's uninspired to me bc its such a nothingburger of a song. Like what do we get from it that we don't already know about Angel- either from the show itself, side content like the Addict video, or even from posts about him? Nothing. And lyrics aside, although the beat is good it's just a generic pop tune like Addict was a generic Kesha tune ya'know? Nothing about the melody particularly stood out to me as unique on its own or helping the storytelling. Even the fact that it's so upbeat in spite of the lyrics and visuals works against it when it gets towards the end and fails at trying to surprise you that it's sad.

"...so the second verse has an odd number of lines and just feels incomplete"

^^See thank you for articulating this bc I don't actually know much about how to articulate my thoughts on music, but this does help me make sense of why the actual tune just didn't grab me/felt off.

Also, going w/ the comparison to All You Wanna Do again- it's uninspired in that it also tries to do the thing where it makes a character use sexual innuendo to cope/describe the sa but falls so flat. Like,

"So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp

Yeah, I know it's poison You're feedin' me poison I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice and Every night I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow"

Angel Dust does his dance as he sings this-and the images of him in his fetish gear/parts of the assault appear on screen, and he even poses in the positions it's implied he's being assaulted in. Like, was ALL of that necessary when the lyrics are already telling us directly what's happening to him??? Katherine made sex jokes abt her sa too, but we get to see her as her own character outside of the assaults and we learn so much about her pov, how it affected her entire life, etc. I feel like I wouldn't find it even that egregious if we had gotten to have scenes where the audience gets to see Angel be himself outside of the performative mask he wears+his suffering, but he was only used for cheap sex jokes when interacting w the others at the hotel. And now in his song, he redundantly sings abt his situation which we have already been shown:

"I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear Yeah, yeah, yeah"

We saw his conflict w Husk over how fake he is, saw him placate Val over the phone, and I can't recall if we saw him disassociate but regardless. The point is we know all this, it didn't need to be a song let alone a whole music video. If we left the scene after Val abused Angel in the backroom and made Charlie leave it would have been waaayyyyy more weighty and foreboding than this song/MV.

ALSO:

"You can’t have a character say “My stories gonna end with me dead from your poison” then expect us to be shocked when the song gets sad in the end." + "...and it fits thematically, because it’s him coming down from his high, and he’s taking in what’s become of his life."

^^^^THIS!! They really tried leaning into the tragedy of his situation but really just ended up making him a tool for whump instead. Addict was put together wayyy better musically, thematically and visually- it actually felt impactful when we're left with Angel Dust crying on the bed w his pet comforting him, whereas Poison leaving him on the ground left me feeling nothing but annoyance.

[doxolove]

Loneliness-

(tw: mental health, trauma)

I started using the Internet at a young age to cure the loneliness around me. My parents were absent, I was incessantly bullied from second to sixth grade in elementary school. Being part of the county's first Spanish immersion program meant my bullies continued to be in my class every year.

The only thing they couldn't bully me over was art. They were nice to me when they wanted a power ranger or a Pokemon drawing– so it became a valuable tool for me to use.

I've used fandom and art most of my life to heal my own volatile attachment wounding. In conjunction to that, I developed severe codependency of anyone who gave me any time of day… It wasn't until I found myself again and again that being a ‘doormat’ for other people was/is exhausting. It wasn't until my best friend at the time said they used that to their advantage on purpose, that I started to feel disgusted at all.

Even after realizing this, I was still suffering from unchecked mental pain and trauma that I wasn't specially aware of. I let myself get into situations where this pain clashed severely against others around me. My pain in turn made me an ugly person.

I started to get help. I finally was diagnosed with depression and type 2 diabetes. The overwhelming exhaustion clouding me all hours of the day wasn't just my own apathy, it was an a1c of eleven, the cusp of a diabetic coma. This shook me to my core. With regular doctor visits and psychiatric evaluation, I finally have been able to regulate my blood sugar and non existent serotonin levels. Doing so shook me out of other things I was still doing. Things that still hurt me and those around me.

Not being aware of how bad I was at coping with my own traumas was a reality hard learned. I've lost so many friends from this negligence… But also? Lost more ‘friends’ when the free ride of using me as a doormat was over. That persons will try to punish you for setting boundaries. That it's your fault they can't cope with their own trauma a more healthy way.

That's fucking bullshit.

Everyone is exhausting. Dealing with yourself and your own traumas? Exhausting. But what came down as a more harsh reality, is that empathy for this doesn't exist in most people. That empathy itself, is something most will never achieve. I've always wondered why not very many want to understand why conflict actually exists, what two sides of an argument look like. What acknowledgement of miscommunication actually is. It's really sad. When things like purity policing, smear campaigning and becoming a flying monkey still exist? Nobody has actually grown out of bullying being a normal fucked up thing humans do to each other instead of communicating properly.

So it's come full circle– but I at least know why it's happening now. Strangers will find any excuse to push their own unchecked pain onto someone else, instead of resolving a core issue. There are people in this world who will never realize their pain will never be relieved from the unhealthy dismissal of responsibility for their own health and how they treat others.

Do I use the Internet to cure my loneliness still? Hell no. Does a vast majority still do? Yes. You can still meet genuine people through it, through community and play– but it's still your responsibility to make sure the way you cope with your own traumas doesn't become someone else's problem.

I no longer use my art to cure loneliness either– probably for the first time since I was very young. I'm unsure if I still want to put additional thoughts out in the open after being bullied off a platform– but I've always put them here. So this will probably be the last time I post them in the void.

I treasure everyone who's taken time to cure my loneliness for any brief moment of time, I still hold that close to my heart. I apologize for the pain miscommunication has caused between some of us, even if it's not my apology to give. So many met me while I was suffering and in a lot of pain… Your kindness gave me hope I'd find means to it's end. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to cope with my own traumas then.

I'm in a far better place now. I'm happy to exist along side people who genuinely love me. People who have proven communication can solve everything and not being afraid to be real and vulnerable. I am so very happy to be alive with them.

I have found value in myself, I've worked so very hard to understand my own traumas and shortcomings. Loving people in my life have taught me much better ways to cope. I'm still growing and learning, that will never stop.

Will I still share art online? Maybe. There's not a big desire to, nor will the urge to join communities ever surface again– generation gaps time and time again have proven so dangerous and disappointing. If I share art it's for the sake of sharing what gives me joy, there's no ulterior purpose anymore.

I would hope everyone will come this far and find healthy ways to cope and be happy, I know we all can do it if we believe we can.

[wyattlife]

My thoughts if there was a We Bare Bears continuation kinda similar to Steven Universe future

Probably 1-2 years after the movie

Chloe would be in her final year in college (I don't know how long Chloe's been to college so Idk) she'd also be 13 or 14

Nom Nom starting to become a better person

Grizz ends up getting PTSD and gets more overprotective of his brothers after the events of the movie (after what he's been through it could be possible he ended up getting trauma)

Panda ends up getting a girlfriend, another bear

Ice Bear's story will be concluded with him and Yana reuniting with Yuri

Charlie gets a bit more comfortable with humans (idk how it'd work but I'll think of something) (I probably won't tho lol)

More new characters (most of them being bears because it takes place after the movie)

Obviously since I mentioned Steven Universe Future I'm gonna add in Grizz angst but I can't think of anything rn so I'll probably make another post about it

New Characters

3 cubs that are Identical to the other 3 bears, with a few differences

Instead of being brothers they'd just be friends

They're not Orphans, they have parents

For cub flashback, I can't think of any, but I think they'd still add them in (or cub flashbacks before they met each other or before they were orphaned)

A possible We Baby Bears reference

I also want the finale to be pretty bittersweet or just sad (kinda like Bluey's The Sign) the Grizz Angst I mentioned up top will play a part of it and I have a few ideas

It ends with the bears splitting up (2 of them move and 1 still lives in the cave) and move on with there lives (If you want to make it more angst they no longer see each other as brothers and now see each other as just friends/regular people, but that'd probably be out of character)

A time skip happens 5-10+ years later where the bears still live together and start having there own families

Grizz ends up coping with his trauma and moves out of the cave and starts living his own life, but still keeps in contact with them

Grizz murders his brothers and then runs away and dates Nom Nom (I'm joking)

Anyways I'll probably make a part 2 for this soon, will I make a fanfic of it, probably, probably not, but it would be interesting to make

[alstroemerian-dragon]

theres something that really bothers me about the way a lot of people talk about and write peko re: her place as fuyuhiko’s “tool,” especially when it comes to like. despair. and i feel like it stems from a few different places and one of those is definitely uh. distance from the source material. because. w. did we play the same game

like. the second trial is a lot of things. annoying. about the death of a character i dont really care about. kind of confusing. Very Sad At The End. but the one thing it shows beyond any shadow of a doubt is that peko Does Not Want To Be Fuyuhiko’s Tool. she leans into it a lot in that trial, past the stupid. serial killer shit. which is literally just desperation and quick thinking on her part (and non diagetically meant to parallel the first game but whatever). but she does that because it is the only option she thinks she has if she wants to keep fuyuhiko alive. because thats her ultimate goal, right? sure, she’s his tool. sure, theyre Badly and Unhealthily codependent. sure, she was basically groomed to stay at his side no matter what. but…

she also cares about him. genuinely. she loves him. for all that teenagers can properly conceive of love in all its forms, but she at least think she does. but she does truly care about him.

did anybody do her free time events other than me? genuine question. because i dont think someone who wants to ask the guy shes sworn to protect on a date would be content being just his tool. that sure sounds like someone who wants to be on equal footing with him.

like. look. say what you want about the anime. take it with a grain of salt. cherry pick what you like and toss the rest of it out. that sure is what i do!! but even if you do that, youve got to take the text of the game itself into account if you want to have any semblance of regular characterization, and the game makes it clear that she hates this!!! she doesnt want to be his tool! she will fight him on things if she has to! she will disobey him if she has to!!! thats the whole point of the trial!!!!! he told her to run and that he would take the fall and she told him no!!!!!!!!!

and you cant ignore the fact that the time between them starting at hope’s peak and the tragedy hitting the ground running was two whole years. people can change a lot in two years, especially teenagers, and especially high schoolers. idk how long its been since you were in high school (unless you currently are in which case. dear gd im so sorry. good luck) but your mental state in high school is so fucked. you have no idea who you are and neither does anybody else and can you even imagine the kinds of pressure the ultimates would have been under?? again, taking the anime with a grain of salt, but even if you go along with it and think the school was barely a school at all, the pressure from society, from family, from peers still has an impact. everyone was telling them who they were and that thats who they were going to be for the rest of their lives and i doubt ANY of them felt like it.

and even if you subscribe to the idea, like me, that their second year was a downward spiral because of junko’s presence and influence, they still needed somewhere to fall from. the idea that peko was uniquely comfortable being quiet and violent and doing whatever fuyuhiko wanted so she didnt need despair to be his tool is ridiculous. i see the argument of “well watching her friends fall into despair and spiral made her spiral in turn and grow numb to it and retreat into herself until she needed to become fuyuhiko’s tool again as a coping mechanism” but. buddy. That Is Despair.

sometimes i feel like the only person who thinks about despair complexly and maybe thats its own post because this ones too long already but. despair isnt just Being Brainwashed Into A Monster. ignore what the writers told you. okay? look at me. Look Into My Eyes. The Writers Are Fucking Idiots And Dont Know How To Write Good Drama With Genuine Stakes. despair as a nuanced concept is so much more horrifying. different post. sorry. peko.

if peko had not been pulled down by despair just like the rest of them she would have fought tooth and nail to keep fuyuhiko above it. she would have demanded he explain to her why he was doing what he was doing. and she would have told him no.

and of course heres where i get into the accusatory part because the other place a lot of this comes from is, and im sorry, an unwillingness to write complex or nuanced women. not pointing fingers, but reducing peko down into “fuyuhiko’s tool” and “she does whatever he says without question” completely destroys any minuscule amount of agency she has. shes a fucking person. yes, shes pixels on a screen. yes, shes a representation of tropes. but diagetically, within the fiction of the game, she is a human being, and if you want to write her, and not be puppeting around a gddamn cardboard cutout, you have to think of her as a person with agency who makes her own fucking choices. sometimes those choices are taken away from her. but they shouldnt be taken away by you.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Tips for coping with depression

As someone who struggles deeply with depression, I thought I'd post these very simple but very crucial tips for overcoming a low time

FIRST AND FOREMOST, IF YOU ARE UNHAPPY ENOUGH THAT IT'S AFFECTING THE WAY YOU ENJOY LIFE, YOU'RE UNHAPPY ENOUGH TO SEEK OUT THERAPY AND POSSIBLY MEDICATION. My depression doesn't usually manifest as sadness. It manifests as exhaustion, lack of drive, and tanking self-care. So it took me a long time to realize that it "counted" as depression. If you don't have insurance, look up a therapist who is willing to do a payment plan and to see you only a couple times a year, maybe just via tele appointment. They might be able to prescribe you medications if that's what you need. I was VERY hesitant to start meds, but I tried low doses of two meds and they rapidly turned my life around.

But in addition, here are my personal recommendations:

BRUSH YOUR TEETH. Always do this first. I don't know what the heck it is about depression that makes brushing your teeth so damn hard, but it's a thing, and you'll feel better if you do this first.

START WITH A SHOWER. Once you finally manage to force yourself out of bed, please for all that is holy, just get a shower. I prefer baths, but I've heard from others that the shower part is crucial to them. Get a shower and stay in there as long as you friggin' want or can. Get some tingly mint shampoo. Get a tingly face wash. That shit is invigorating. I actually keep my toothbrush and toothpaste in the shower and brush at the end of my bath (whatever I'm depressed and weird)

GO OUTSIDE. Even if it's just opening a window or standing on your apartment's balcony for a bit. Go outside and see the earth. Go for a walk.

GET SUNLIT. get assessed for vitamin D--you probably need supplements. Purchas an indoor SAD sun lamp; you can get them pretty cheap on Amazon and just 30 mins a day with that thing makes a difference!

SUPPLEMENTS. Important and useful ones I like are Vitamin D, Ashwaganda, CBD oil, Kratom (approach with care if you have addiction issues). And take a friggin' multivitamin--you're a grownup.

ALWAYS DO SOMETHING KIND FOR YOURSELF. do something small, simple, and kind for yourself, for no reason other than it's a simple pleasure. Eat one of those tiny half cup portions of ice cream they have at the grocery store, put vetiver oil in your bath, get the overpriced drink at Starbucks you always tell yourslef you shouldn't waste money on, light a candle or get one of those misting waterfall thingies and plug it in. Watch some cat videos, do a coloring book, bake a batch of muffins. Whatever feels nice to you.

LISTEN TO HAPPY MUSIC. I'm a big fan of angsty, dark rock and alternative music, but I force myself to avoid it when I'm having a hard time mentally. Instead I listen to upbeat gym music or pop, music that sound how I wish I felt.

CLEAN YOUR SPACE. If you're my kind of mentally ill, your living space sometimes can get pretty bad. There can be are piles. Put on some of the aforementioned music and get going, one item at a time, you can always take a break or stop whenever you want.

GO TO THE GYM. People who've never really worked out don't seem to believe us gym rats, but it's true: regular exercise can help almost as much as (or more than) antidepressants!

DRINK LOTS OF WATER AND EAT WELL. I used to be a diet soda addict, okay? But water is what our bodies thrive on, and you'll be amazed at how much more awake a simple chug of water can make you feel.

CALL A HELPLINE. If you need to talk, call a helpline. It's so easy. You don't have to be in crisis mode or at the end of your rope to call, and unless you're on the phone actively threatening immediate harm to yourself, they aren't going to do anything but give you a kind ear. I volunteer at one of these helplines, which strangely also really helps with depression.

BE KIND! To yourself and others. It's free to do and worth its weight in gold to the people on the receiving end. As Ru Paul likes to say: "Kindness is the highest form of intellect."

[gramarye]

answering asks that i forgot to because well. the . forget disorder

this is like when that meme about swedish people not feeding their guests dropped... i mean im not swedish but finland has a lot of swedes and i have definitely never encountered that, same with the shoes thing...... i dont know why you wouldnt wanna take your shoes off Especially in a country with lots of snow and ice like thats just asking for dirty water everywhere. SCARY!

also lol yeah there is !! it's not super hard though.... basically spoken finnish is like a less formal way, it's usually just shortened written finnish?

take the sentence "i am going outside", in written finnish it's "minä menen ulos" , and in spoken finnish it's "mä meen ulos" . and even then some people use the longer forms when speaking, it's not really like two separate whole things, you can mix and match. that said finnish is scary otherwise so i dont blame you LOL

thank you heres koshkys face being held by my partner . she gets pampered soo much despite being a devious little creature

i get sad they dont sell floppy disks in regular tech stores anymore..they really should.... why cant people get with the times (realize that floppy disk cameras are fun and cool and they make cute whirring noises)

thank u this is sweet ive never rly spoken Public about it before thsi but a lot of people know and honestly if you knew me 5+ years ago it was sadly one of those cases it was obvious there was Something going awn with me by my looks i did not look good lol. i had a lot of bad things in my life and i kinda coped with that and then made my life even worse for a very long time. #CRINGE. now its cool and i hope i can make other people feel like eating is cool and nice because it is... sorry idont really know how to talk about this in public. THANKS im flourishing

[leviathanshusband]

could you do some headcanons of the demon brothers with an mc that has bpd I've been searching for months to no avail and it makes close relationships and communicating so difficult for me </3

Lucifer: Mans is so confused at first, like why are you getting so upset at everything? Why are you so scared of being left alone? until you eventually approach him with scared eyes and shaking hands, telling him you have bpd and ask if he’d research it. He does and when he realzizes how hard you work on a daily basis to appear regular and calm, he’s so proud of you. From then on whenever you need someone to settle of reassure you, he’s right there, holding your hands through it, telling you that he loves you no matter what

Mammon: He doesn’t need to know about any disorder to be constantly giving you love and assurance. He’s there for you when you’re angry, he’’s there when you’’re sad, he knows when to give you space and listens when you tell him that you’re too overwhelmed for anything. Honestly, he’s such a good person to have around during episodes because he’s so patient and willing to wait it out

Leviathan: He’s the one holding you through meltdowns, has your arms twisted behind your back and you down to the floor so that when you thrash you can’t hurt yourself. Levi knows what it’s like to be out of control with your own body and as a result he’s patient with you. It doesn’t look like other people’s patience but it’s still there. Phrases like “Take a ssecond” “You’re not sstupid enough to think that you sshould be going this now are you?” “No.” are passed around pretty often. Levi figures at first you’re like him but when he learns about your diagnoses he researches the hell out of it.

Satan: Already knows you have bpd before you come to him and explain. He has several books open about good coping strategies, therapies and how bpd affects the daily life. He actually taught his brothers (except Lucifer) about your diagnosis so that they wound’s ask you a million questions. He’s great to have when you need some quiet time but it’s also hard with him because you both have explosive tempers. You two fight often but you always come back together faer you’’ve had time to cool down and adjust

Asmo: He also has bpd and this makes for some interesting times. He’s the best at figuring out what you need before you even know you need it and talking you through a fit of anger or whatever has you up in arms today but you two also feed off of one another. When he’s angry you start to feel it too, like buzzing in your veins, when your hurting, he’s hurting too and whoever is soothing you (probably Levi) is suddenly dealing with two crying idiots

Beelzebub: Does not get it. He’s like why are you like his but also is happy to make sure that you’re okay. Honestly his treatment of you never changes but he’s happy to be tighter for you in whatever it is that you need.

Belphegor: Once again he is also mentally ill. He doesn’t understand how you. feel these emotions as strongly ad you do but becasue the way he feels emotions is detached and lazy, it doesn’t matter. He’s klike a breath of air becaue he isnt feeling something when you’re feeling everything and that’s peaceful. That’s comforting.

[trans-axolotl]

I'm rly sorry to put this on u and u don't have to respond. But idk how to de-institutionalize myself. Like I was in psych insitutions for 6 years continuously I've been out since October but had time out somewhat frequently for the past year and a half. But it's like in my head. I do better with less control from providers, and I recognize how much the system has traumatized me (so many horror stories you don't need to hear, gaslighting, restraint, seclusion, didn't get to see my dying father/attend his funeral, denied gender affirming care, over/mis-medicated, etc.).

But it's like I smoked weed recently and I'm NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT. bc I have a psychotic disorder. So I agreed to go to a partial. And just the sight of young people in like those hospital lanyards caused me extreme flashbacks and led me to dissociate during which I fired all my providers. I hired them back and am now under watch during my waking hours. In my apartment by like, a carer. And I was doing BETTER before I had this stuff!!! Even though I smoked weed! I made friends, got engaged to a long time partner, had a regular part time job, left the house, etc.

But it's almost like I'm doomed into having this identity of "patient" be the only one that matters and my relationship with the psychiatric system mediate the way I experience ALL OF MY EMOTIONS and do EVERYTHING. If I smoke I need to go to treatment. If I dissociate I consider going to the hospital until my fiance convinces me I can get through it myself (which I have been able to. I've stopped self harming, haven't attempted suicide, etc. partially bc I just don't SEE myself that way).

I'm sorry for venting. It just feels so so so so hopeless. Like how the fuck do I escape this? Especially bc like if I just fired everyone I could get put under conservatorship for refusing treatment, even though I've proved I can live and survive independently. I just don't know an alternative because I've been in this since I was a teenager. I really need advice. It's so scary like psychiatry is the devil I know and it's destroyed my self esteem/confidence that id be able to exist without it.

Don't feel pressured to respond if this is too much. I'm sorry.

Anon, this is such an important question and something I really resonate with. I appreciate you sharing your experiences <3

You are absolutely not alone in this, and I've spent a lot of time talking with some of my friends about our experiences. It is really, really hard to adjust back to life after spending a lot of time institutionalized, and it is not your fault that the role of "patient" feels like it's taking over your life. So many other people I've talked to also feel this way, people write about it in books, professionals recognize it. I think that when we're in institutions, it's a role we have to take on to survive. There becomes particular ways of coping and routines we fall into because it's the only options available to us while institutionalized, and no one really gives us a workbook for how to transform those skills and routines into our real life. I'm so sorry that psychiatry has caused you so much pain and is still causing you pain, and I really empathize with feeling hopeless and stuck. I think it makes a lot of sense that you would be feeling overwhelmed and trapped, and any feelings of anger or sadness or anything are important and worth listening to.

As someone who has been hospitalized twice in the past three years and spent many months institutionalized, this is something I've also really been grappling with. Even though I know how much the system harmed me, know that the psych ward really, really traumatized me, have so many horror stories, and spend all this time organizing against psych wards, there are times that I do fixate on returning to psych wards and have impulsive thoughts about returning. When it comes down to it, I don't ever want to return to hospitalization, but sometimes I do have a strange sense of nostalgia for parts of it, especially when I remember the people I met there, some of the good days, or the sense of what it was like to at least feel familiar in a situation. For a long time, especially when I was younger, going to the ER was an important part of my self harm routine for the riskier forms of self harm I engaged in, and even though I didn't recognize it consciously at the time, I can look back and connect the dots and understand some of the underlying reasons why hospitalization felt important to me as a teenager. Sometimes, especially when I'm struggling not to engage in self destructive behaviors, I miss the way that hospitalization let me not give a fuck about anything, self destruct as much as I want, and how the experience of being in that type of crisis meant I had no responsibility to myself and didn't have to put the effort into healing. And I don't think we talk about these really complex and nuanced experiences enough in antipsych community, where even though we recognize that we deserve better, that we want to abolish psych wards, at the same time we all have our own complicated experiences that are worth sharing.

What has helped me transition into a life without hospitalization is a lot of reflection with myself and my loved ones to help identify my triggers when it comes to hospitalization, and to make plans for what I wanted my care to look like. For me, I know that one of my triggers that might make me impulsively do something that will end in hospitalization is when my pain feels invisible, my emotions and experience is invalidated, and when I start to feel like the people in my life won't support me unless I'm in crisis. When I start to feel this way, I know I need to go reach out to friends, tell them that I'm feeling vulnerable and worried and in pain, and they know that it's really helpful for them to listen, to validate me, to promise that they believe me, etc. That is just a personal example and might not be at all relevant to you, but what was really just most helpful was understanding the ways this pattern showed up for me, really analyzing what situations, emotions, actions, are likely to cause me to feel impulsive, vulnerable, and to start having intrusive thoughts about hospitalization, so that I could make a plan with my loved ones about what kind of support I need to avoid hospitalization.

I think something else that has been important to me is recognizing that I am allowed to fuck up, that there is room in my life for risk, and redefining what crisis looks like for me. In a lot of treatment setting, we spend time learning our warning signs, triggers, stuff like that. Which can be really helpful, but I know for me, sometimes it can actually be really damaging when I only think of my life in terms of warning signs. Because at this point after years of treatment I am so aware of what things are risky for me, when I do inevitably end up engaging in some of those behaviors, sometimes labeling that as a warning sign makes me start to panic. I start to feel like it's a slippery slope straight into crisis, and gets me into a mindset where I think that since it's inevitable that I've fucked up, I might as well just continue doing risky stuff, escalating my behaviors, and eventually pushing myself into crisis because I believe that it's going to happen anyway. Moving away from labeling things as an automatic warning sign helped me to get out of that rigid treatment mindset where everything is labeled as either good or bad, and warning signs are seen as an automatic crisis. Leaning towards harm reduction, acknowledging what things are risky for me, are likely to cause other harmful behaviors, and committing to a mindset where although I don't have to fix everything in one day, I have to make one small positive change, has been really helpful for me in stopping those warning sign spirals. Leaving room in my life for me to fuck up, make bad decisions, and still also use coping skills, reach out to supports, and have all of that coexist, has been super helpful for me.

I think it's also really crucial to have the space to undo some of the myths told to us by providers. Being institutionalized can really wreck our self esteem, when we're constantly told by providers that we don't know what's right for ourselves, that we're dangerous, that we are incapable, broken, and that we need to rely on the experts in order to be fixed because we can trust ourselves. Part of building our lives outside of hospitalization requires learning how to trust ourselves again, and celebrating ourselves for all the ways in which we are capable, talented, the experts, able to make decisions and choose what is right for us. Spending a long time institutionalized can get us out of practice in all of those things, and being able to slowly find ways to celebrate ourselves, even for small things, can go a long way to building our capacity to trust ourselves. Finding support people who are willing to encourage and validate us is also so important, whether that's from our loved ones, outpatient providers who are allies, online community, whatever.

When we've spent so long institutionalized and having our self esteem wrecked by providers, it can feel like we don't have any capacity to use coping skills, care for ourselves, or make decisions. For me, it was really helpful to find small ways to practice making decisions again, even just about tiny things that have nothing to do with my mental health. Building up my capacity to use coping skills was really hard, because it kind of honestly can fucking suck in the moment and it's hard to feel like it's worth it. For me anger has been a super helpful emotion, where in those moments I'm having a hard time, I draw on my anger at my providers as a way to motivate myself to thrive in all the ways they said I couldn't. Any time you can make those changes, use skills, make goals, practice your autonomy, it all goes a long way towards building the life that you want and increasing your capacity to cope with what challenges and distress we're going to experience.

Although it can feel impossible to believe that we can build a life for ourselves outside of the patient role, it is possible. It already sounds like you've been doing so much work to make it happen. It sounds like you know that treatment is a trigger for you that makes things worse, that smoking weed is something that is complicated for you and might require a more careful approach, and that your fiance is supporting you and affirming your capability to live your life outside a hospital. It is such an amazing accomplishment that you have been able to stop self harming and attempted suicide, and that you have built all these things in your life that you want. You already are doing so much of the work, and although it sounds like things have been particularly difficult to navigate and that partial has been a challenge, there are already so many ways in which you are taking care of yourself and fighting back. Even if you need to bullshit your way through partial long enough so that you can get back to doing healing work outside of that space, it sounds like you do have the skills, capability, and insight about what you want. And just also want to affirm that healing doesn't have to happen in isolation-interdependence, support, and community are so important, and whatever ways you need to rely on people in your life to get you through this is not something to be ashamed of.

Truly sending all the love and solidarity your way, and please feel free to reach out if there's any specific resources you want, or even just to vent.

Followers with relevant experience, free free to add on your insights.

💜💜💜

[hils79]

Hils Watches Strong Woman Do Bong Soon - Ep 14

Okay, I've seen enough horror movies to know the dude totally survived that car crash. Also there's still 3 episodes left.

Yes, I'm sure all of you staring at her will make her feel better

Look, I have never understood fashion at the best of times but wtf is she wearing? It's like three completely different dresses stitched together and then put on over a sweater. I think if it was just the black and white halves that might look okay but why is there a random bit of denim skirt too?

I'm not sure telling your daughter to pretend this traumatic event didn't happen is the healthiest coping mechanism for her...

Okay, I know you want to hammer home the point that she's not strong anymore but wow no one even attempted to help her up when some dickbag man bumped into her and knocked her over

Why are we spending so much time on the butt problems of the man who stabbed Ahn Minhyuk?

Did he though? No body, no death.

No, you idiot. This is the part where you tell her that her strength wasn't what made her unique and then list all the things you love about her. Come on that is romance 101.

Picking something totally at random I'll do the thing you asked In Gookdoo to do for you that one time. That moment definitely does not still live rent free in my head

I mean she verbally and physically abuses him, he has to hide money from his own store so that she won't take it. I'd be asking for the divorce papers there and then

Some comics are sad! Don't make fun of him!

Oh, look, to the surprise of no one he's still alive

I was just about to say no one is going to fail to recognise you just because you cut your hair but actually he does look really different

Sure it's only a small step from kidnapping for sexual gratification to domestic terrorism

I don't like that she's getting kidnapped 5 minutes after losing her strength. Didn't she do all that fighting training with Ahn Minhyuk? But they seem to be saying that without her strength she's totally helpless

Okay, I have questions. And I'm sure I'm thinking about this too much but I'm going to ask them anyway.

So, the curse is that if you hurt an innocent your strength is taken away, right? Why didn't she lose her strength when she broke Secretary Gong's tailbone, or broke Ahn Minhyuk's toe? Neither of those people had done anything wrong.

And now she's got her strength back because she wants to save Ahn Minhyuk. Which is great. I am a big fan of both of them not being blown up. But at any point has there been a 'if you then want to use your strength to save someone you get it back' mention? Is she just special because she's the main character?

I'm sorry I swear I'm not usually one of those 'a drama should be super realistic' people but the bomb she threw into the air just somehow turned into fireworks

But on the plus side there's still two episodes left and she has her strength back now so she gets to kick that dude's ass on equal terms. Well, not even equal. He's just a regular dude and she will squish him.

[theuniversalscat]

Unbeknownst to many of us, we can time travel. Pretty cool, huh? In some cases, yes, very cool. We can think into the future, of all the ways we’d like to change our lives for the better. But the majority of the time a lot of us go backwards into thinking about things that have hurt us in the past that we don’t want to repeat, and trying to avoid it in the present and future.

When I feel sad, or hurt, I feel like I should share my feelings with someone I’m close to about it. It’s almost like parts of me get so inflamed that it’s a visceral reaction, like as fast as I feel it, I have to spit it back out to someone else to receive comfort and support. But I’m starting to second guess that initial reaction, because it comes from a place of lack from within me, and isn’t necessarily true. And regardless of if it’s just my perception, or done intentionally, I don’t have to give it that much of my time or thought, or worse yet, let it ruin me.

Also, when I stop to think about it, it doesn’t feel kind to “share my feelings” when the feelings I share are really lousy. I don’t want to give my upset to anyone I love or care about. I only want to share feelings that feel good. And that includes sharing things with myself. Choosing my thoughts wisely so I can experience a happier existence overall. But after something happens that I feel hurt or upset by, holding it in to fester doesn’t feel right either. I recognize I have a choice to feel better, but sometimes my old feels have such a strong momentum I find that they’ve started rolling down the track like a freight train at 200 mph without me even realizing it, carrying a ton of old baggage and cargo.

So, time passes, and whether we recognize it or not we all change. And the way we used to think about certain people and situations have also changed, due to our new reality. And as that time passes, we experience more, we become more, and we are by default, different than we once were. How we choose to feel around the old situations can be more in accordance with our new selves of the present. Or, if we ignore our feelings about things that upset us on a regular basis, it can trigger us the same way it always had, but worse because we haven’t developed a new way of thinking to cope when it shows back up after a long period of time into our three dimensional reality.

So how do we go about this life not repeating the feelings of the past? I’m no longer 3, 5, 7, 11, 16, 19, 22, 33, or even in my early 40s. I’m 49 years old, and the lenses that I’m looking at my life through now can and should be different then how I saw and felt things at all of those formidable ages. And they usually are, until you come across situations that you unfortunately still resonate with the old feeling of pain; so you inevitably fall into an equally old pattern of behavior that hasn’t worked for you in the past, but you still find yourself acting it out in your current life in the present moment. And before you know it, your old pattern of feeling and thinking could throw you back in time and in a tail spin without a safety net. And moreover, if you’re not consciously mentally prepared for it, it can set you off and you end up subsequently feeling the same age as when you first experienced the pain to begin with.

Working through the issues of your past is definitely one way of acknowledging where you are now in relation to them. And our viewpoint of the proportions of the severity of certain situations could have also changed with time. They could grow larger with the focus of subconscious fear of rejection and lack of belonging, or smaller with the focus of love and wholeness that you, yourself can create and bolster on a daily basis from within.

Now I’m not saying we don’t need anyone in our lives except for us, because we are a social network of shared energy. You can’t really survive healthfully being a recluse. We are all affecting and being effected by one another on a lot of different energetic levels. But the thing is, when you focus on holding the energy of kindness and love, you can begin to counter older feelings that you bring to the table, easier. You can decide to make a concerted effort to leave them at the door before you answer an email, a text, a phone call, see people face to face, etc. The old stories that I once told myself are maybe not applicable to the current situation, and may not have even been accurate to begin with.

Creating a new way of feeling is now my primary goal. So no matter how I’ve felt in the past, the me I choose to be in today can care for all the younger parts of me that didn’t feel loved, supported or safe in the past with people or experiencing certain situations. I want to feel health. I want to feel well being. I want to experience joy with the people in my former life without feeling I’m betraying my younger self that felt hurt. And in order to do that, the change has to start, and end, with me, and how I choose to process my new way I want to feel with my old pattern of belief.

So now, when I choose to time travel, it’ll (hopefully) be in a deliberate, more productive way to allow myself to feel better then I ever had in the past, by focusing on what was good, and what is better. 💖