#thank you for coming to my ted talk and therapy session

[qpjianghu]

world events: happen

laundry: demands my attention

work: needs to be done

real people: exist

my brain literally every second of every day: --the musical masterpiece Zui Meng starts out with Lan Wangji’s guqin playing the melody and Wei Wuxian’s flute following but also deviating a bit, symbolizing Lan Wangji following the expected path while Wei Wuxian does his own thing, then segues into Wei Wuxian’s flute leading Lan Wangji’s guqin as Lan Wangji begins to open his eyes to Wei Wuxian’s worldview, and finally culminates with both instruments playing the melody at the same time but still with their distinct voices, this proves that true love never existed before Wangxian in fact invented it by following their own paths and staying true to themselves while finding their way to each other in the end, and in conclusion your honor--

[her-power]

Last Chance to Dance (Part Four: Rockstar! e.m. x fem reader)

🚨🛑🔞18+++ MINORS DNI - YOU WILL BLOCKED🚨🛑🔞 TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING (For entire series): Rockstar! Addict! Sweet! Mean! Eddie, smut, unprotected p+v, fluff, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (m+f receiving), heavy drug use, descriptions of IV drug use, swearing, talks of anxiety, panic disorder, mental illness, talks of suicide

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Last Chance to Dance Part One Part Two Part Three

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 8.1k

I wake up to the smell of French toast coming from the kitchen; I smile, realizing what day it is. I groan, feeling the muscles in my back stretch and my spine pop. I throw on my jeans and exit the room. I find you in the kitchen, you were dancing to Prince on the radio, in an oversized band tee, not noticing me behind you. I realize the shirt you’re wearing is mine, a shirt that I haven’t seen in almost twenty years. 

“Merry Christmas.” I say and you yelp, awkwardly stumbling back into me as the spatula falls out of your hand. I hold your waist and you're laughing loudly. 

“Jesus Christ. You scared me!” You cup my face and kiss my lips softly. “Merry Christmas.” 

I smile against your lips, gripping your waist. “I was wondering what happened to this shirt.” 

You blush, winking at me. “You left it at my house.” 

“I’m sure I did.” I laugh, gently patting her ass as she goes back to cooking breakfast. I peek out the windows, the snow was pretty melted already. It seemed warmer than usual. I feel my phone ringing in my pocket, and I see that it’s Ted, I smile when I answer. 

“Merry Christmas, Teddy.” I say with a grin.

I hear him giggle. “Merry Christmas, dickhead. How you doing?” 

I glance over at you, and you look up, smiling sweetly at me. “Better than I have been.” 

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” 

“Remember the girl?” I whisper. “The one I told you about.” 

“The girl…the girl. Oh!” He laughs loudly. “Wow, man. That’s amazing. Are things…are things well…?”

“Things are incredible.” I grin and I pull my hair up in a half pony. 

“Good. I love to hear it.” He coughs a little. “Happy seven months by the way.” 

I glance at the date on my phone, he was right. I was seven months clean. I’ve never had that much time under my belt. “Wow. I didn’t even realize…thanks, man.” 

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He says, and I hear him let out another hacking cough. “The boys talked about meeting at the studio, Gareth told me you’ve been writing?” 

“Uhhh. Been preoccupied to finish, but yeah.” I smile. “I haven’t sang anything yet, it’s been a while.” 

“You know whatever you do it’s gonna come out amazing.” He’s coughing again, and I can’t help but feel a little worried. 

“You alright, Teddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wrong pipe is all.” He laughs. “Where you at? East coast or cabin?”

“Boston. I have to go back to the cabin in a few days for my next therapy session.” I had almost forgotten until now, I would’ve been fucked if I missed it. 

“Okay, why don’t we plan to meet at the Boston studio after New Years? Bring your girl.” 

My girl. 

“Okay.” I smile. “What are you doing today?”

“Nellie is coming to town with the grandkids, been some time since I’ve seen them.” I can hear a smile in his voice. “Julie is coming too.” His ex-wife. 

“Ohhhh.” I grin goofily at the phone. “Rekindling things hopefully?” 

He laughs. “We’ll see. Enjoy your day, Eddie. Love you.” 

“Thanks, man. Love you too.” 

I hang up, you ask me who was on the phone, and I tell you it was the man who saved my life. 

We had finished breakfast, had light conversation about the plans for the day. Gareth had video chatted me, and when he saw your face on the screen, I thought he was gonna pass out. You had taken the phone from me, laughing and talking about things from the past. Gareth kept saying “oh my god, oh my god” which was weird because, he was the one who gave you my phone number. I had shrugged it off, he was probably excited that it actually happened, that we were in the same room together after so many years. When she had given the phone back to me, Gareth had smiled large. 

“You look good, dude.” He grins, sipping his coffee. “Email me that song you wrote, I want to add the melody notes.” 

“It’s not finished yet.” I sigh. “I don’t even know if I want to record it, it’s different from our regular stuff.” 

“Nothing wrong with being different, didn’t you tell me that?” He smirks at me, and I roll my eyes. 

“It’s…it’s almost like a ballad. I guess, I don’t know. I started it in rehab and then picked away at it when I hid out in my cabin. There are definitely parts that we can add the heavy stuff to, I don’t know.” I laugh awkwardly. 

“Dude, stop being hard on yourself.” He smiles at me. “I’m sure it’s great. Go enjoy your day with her and I’ll see you soon.” 

“Alright, man.” I smile. “Merry Christmas, idiot.”

He gives me the middle finger. “Merry Christmas, bitch.” 

I hang up, putting my phone on silent and look up at you. You were coming towards me with a wrapped present in your hand.

“What?” I laugh. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t get you anything. Why did you get me something?” 

“Relax. I’ve actually had this forever.” You sit down next to me, curling your legs under you. “I got it for you before…well, before everything.” 

You hand it to me, and I can tell you were telling the truth because the corners on the wrapping paper had wear on them. I stare into your eyes, trying to comprehend. “Come on I’ve waited fifteen years to give this to you.” You laugh and I smile at you, tearing the paper. My eyes immediately fill with tears, remembering. 

It was a music transcript notebook that I had my eyes set on at a record shop back then. It was 200 pages of smooth paper, leather bound; I remember this being expensive. 

“This…you got me this?” I look in your eyes and you nod. “How…what? Why?”

You shrug and give me a sad smile. “Because I loved you.” 

I rub my palm over my trembling lips, running my fingers over the pages. It still looked brand new after all these years. I feel my heart shatter in pieces, I feel every regret and mistake swim through my mind. You take my hand in yours, dipping your head to look in my eyes. “Hey, look at me.” 

I clear my throat, looking at you, feeling hot tears on my cheeks. You cup my cheek, wiping my tears away with your finger. 

“This isn’t me giving you this to remind you of what could have been or to have you beg for my forgiveness. Because I’m not gonna do that. I forgave you a long time ago, that’s why I hung on to this. It reminded me every day of the good. Not the bad. Never the bad. Because you were always good, Eddie.” You curl your fingers through my hair, and I shake my head at you. 

“I was only good because of you.” I whisper, wiping the snot from my nose. 

“That’s not true and you know that.” You say, moving your other hand to the other side of my face. “It just took you a bit to catch up, there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“Look where I ended up.” I cry softly. “Look what I did to myself for all those years, how is any of that good?” 

“Look where you are now.” You say to me, opening the binding of the book to a blank page. You point to it. “Blank page. New chapter, better life.” 

I stare at you in awe, wondering if this was a cruel dream and I was actually held up in that hotel room in Manhattan, overdosing, imagining things like this. I take your face in my hands, kissing you sweetly, you curl your hands through my hair, and I press my forehead against yours. You were real. This was real. 

“Thank you.” I whisper to you. “Thank you for everything.” 

“You’re welcome.” You smile against my lips and pull back, gently running your hand over my cheek. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” I whisper to you, pressing my lips to yours again, cupping the back of your head. I pull you by your thighs onto my lap, gripping your ass and your waist. You lean back, pulling my shirt off of your head and press your lips to mine again. I hold onto your back, clawing at your skin, as I continue to massage my tongue with yours. You grind against me, and I groan into your mouth, instantly getting hard. I kiss your neck, lick down to your breast, and take your nipple in my mouth. You let out a sigh, your back arching and I hold you tighter. You hold onto my shoulders, pulling my face to yours, kissing me deeply. I feel your hands unzip me, and I groan against your skin as you take my cock and bury me inside you. I hold your hips as you rock, the beautiful moans that you breathe out send shivers down my spine. I cup your breasts, rubbing your erect nipples as they bounce in my hand. 

“Unghhhh baby, you feel so good.” You moan loudly and my head falls back against the couch, rocking you faster. “Ahhhh, fuck.” 

“Mmmm.” I moan, pushing myself deeper into you, arching my hips. “You like that baby?” 

“Fuck Eddie.” You gasp out a shaky breath and I smile, hearing you say my name like that awakens a wild animal in me, I just want to feel all of you and more. I meet your lips, wrapping both my arms around your waist and turn you onto your back. I hold your leg over my shoulder, slamming into you, feeling every inch of your wet pussy swallowing my dick whole. “Just like that baby, don’t stop, don’t stop…annnnghhhh!” 

You’re getting so loud, and I feel myself shudder, pornographic sounds and grunts escape my mouth and I feel you clench around me. “F-fuck…ohhh…unghhh…”

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come…oh my…oh…unghhhhhhh!” You cry out as your orgasm rocks your entire body, I keep fucking you, and you’re still screaming as your pussy continues to clench my cock. I groan loudly, feeling my eyes roll back and I feel the warmth come out of my cock as I come inside you, I don’t stop thrusting until I’m completely empty. You’re still trembling underneath me, still moaning as the stimulation you feel starts to settle. I swallow a lump in my throat, pressing my lips to yours, thrusting into you once more. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Manhattan. 

The second to last city of the tour. 

I haven’t used heroin in two weeks. Two long, boring, fucked up weeks. 

Everyone keeps saying how proud they are of me and that I’m doing the right thing. But am I? Do they know that behind my stupid smile and my sense of humor is a fucking ticking time bomb ready to go off and take everyone down with them? No? Yeah, probably not. I’m not that easy to read anymore. I’m still a drug addict and I still know how manipulate people into believing my lies. The ache and the urge to use is so hard to resist, I feel like I’m slowly dying. Everything makes me sad, I cry all the time. I feel like a fucking pussy. 

The shows we’ve been putting on have been unreal though. We’ve had to do double shows because the stadiums have been sold out.

I should be grateful; we have great support from our fans. We had a meet and greet and had met a beautiful young woman, who couldn’t have been younger than twenty-one, who was battling terminal cancer, told us that our music keeps her going on the worst days. I hugged her while she cried, held her face and told her that she was strong, that whatever happens she will walk out of here knowing she made a difference in my life. And when she left, I locked myself in the bathroom, weeping because it was too much. It was all too much, feeling her pain, seeing it in her eyes. I made Ted take down her email, her mother’s email. I don’t know why but I needed to know what happened to her. 

We were on stage now, finishing the last song. I wailed on Sweetheart; my hair was sweat soaked and whipping around me as I head banged around the stage while Gareth slammed on the drums. I bring my mouth to the microphone, singing the last verse, and look back at Gareth, he grins, hitting the double bass petal, snare and we fade out. The roar of the crowd vibrates our bodies, thank them for coming to the show. I toss my guitar pick in the audience and blow them air kisses. 

The boys and I went to a local bar to celebrate, naturally, I had gotten extremely drunk. But they didn’t seem to care, I mean, if they did, they didn’t say anything. Being drunk was better than being sober and when I was sober, I kept seeing the girls face with the cancer. I couldn’t even see straight; I was surprised I made it to my hotel room. 

I don’t even think I shut my door, because as soon as I walked in to empty my pockets, I couldn’t believe what I had placed on the table. 

Sitting so perfectly beside my cigarettes, lighter, and loose cash was a little plastic baggy with light brown powder, and two capped needles. I feel a laugh escape my lungs; I don’t believe this is real. When did I buy some? Was it at the bar? Was it outside the bar? I really don’t remember. I held the baggy in my palm, staring at it like it was the missing piece of the puzzle. 

I didn’t even hesitate; it was like riding a bike. I had done the first shot; it had burned like hot embers in my veins. It made me sweat; the summer air didn’t help, but sitting on the floor next to the air conditioner did. The top two buttons of my shirt were undone, I didn’t take the necklace off. Maybe I should’ve. I press the needle into my vein again. Same spot, uh oh. I smile at the burn again; I probably should’ve waited before I did it again. My head feels heavy, but I am so fucking high I don’t even care. 

I look at the syringe, there’s still some in there, I clench my fist, looking for a different vein. It was just enough to…

Suddenly I’m in my back, staring up at the ceiling, everything feels foggy, I can’t move. My heart isn’t beating, or is it? 

“Look at what you’ve become.” I hear your voice and I slowly turn my head; I taste something foul in my mouth, something warm is spilling onto my cheeks. I see your face, kneeling next to me. There is no way you’re real, looking at me this way, your face cold, your eyes blank. “Just a dead man, laying on a cold floor with a needle in your arm.” 

My body reacts, I feel it trembling. I can’t speak, my limbs don’t work. Nothing is working. I feel calm though, isn’t that weird? 

Did the show really go well? Or did I imagine that too? I think I forgot the words to a song…but Gareth had took over. Have I been high this entire time? 

It’s quiet now. The room is still, I think I see Gareth…he’s screaming something at me. But he’s not angry, he looks almost scared, and he’s weeping. I can’t hear him; I can’t hear anything anymore.

“He’s still coding.” 

“Adrenaline.”

“Are you crazy?” 

“Just do it!” 

“Fifth narcan given.” 

“Eddie? Eddie? Can you hear me?” 

“Still no response. Eyes fixed and dilated.” 

“He’s not dying tonight! Do you know who this is?! Do another narcan, I’ll start compressions.”

“Can you step on it, Mike?!” 

“Give me the adrenaline.” 

“You’re crazy if you think it’s gonna work. Fifth narcan given. No response.” 

“Give me the fucking adrenaline!” 

“It’s not gonna work! Doug, don’t!” 

A loud, deep, gasp escapes my lungs, and my vision clears. I’m in the back of an ambulance, my shirt is ripped and there is a needle sticking out of my bare chest. I feel sweaty, I feel clammy, I think I’m still dead. I stare at the wide eyes of the paramedic and try to ignore the vibrations of what I assume is adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. I pull the needle out of my chest, and I feel immediately trapped. 

“Stop the truck, let me go.” I say, my eyes wide. 

“We’re taking you to the hospital.” The man who I assume is Doug says. “Whatever you took is not fully cleared from your system.” 

“Nope, no hospital, let me the fuck out.” I go to crawl off the gurney and two strong hands push me back on the bed. I start to struggle, and I end up elbowing Doug in the face. He falls back, and the other paramedic tries to restrain me.

“Mike! Stop the truck! Code gray!”  I rip the CB radio off the wall, and I smash it on his head. I was a trapped animal in a cage, and I needed to get out. The ambulance slams to a halt, and I smash my shoulder against the back doors, awkwardly stumbling out and I start running. Well, running as best as I could. We weren’t that far away from the hotel, and I was grateful when the building came into few. It must’ve been late, because when I walk in the lobby the only person there was the receptionist and she looked at me like I was a walking zombie. 

I try to smile and wave to her, and I can only imagine what that looked like to her because she looked even more terrified. I make it back up to my room, everything was thrown everywhere, the bed was a mess, the floor had medical equipment laid out. There was a puddle of whatever liquid had come out of my mouth on the floor by the air conditioner. My phone, Sweetheart, my suitcase and everything else was still where I left it. This was the third time I have ever overdosed in my life, but it was never this bad. I never had to take an ambulance ride. I walk into the bathroom, and I can understand why the receptionist looked terrified. I was very pale, almost ghostly, my eyes had dark circles underneath them. My curly hair was sticking to my skin because of my sweat, there was a black and blue bruise on my chest. I did look like a dead man walking. 

Oh, what do you know, I still have drugs. 

Did I shoot up again after having just overdosed? Yeah. Why? You may wonder. 

Well, it didn’t kill me. 

I’m sitting up on the floor of the hotel room, a stupid smirk on my face because I knew I wasn’t dying again. I know I’m a piece of shit, I know Gareth was the one who found me teetering on life and death. 

I hear three loud rapping knocks on my door. “Fuck off.” I groan out. 

“This is NYPD.” 

“I didn’t die so you can leave now!” I shout at them. 

“Not gonna do that sir. We could do this easy way or hard way, open the door.” 

I feel angry now, I stumble to my feet and whip the door open. 

“Edward Munson?” 

“Depends on who’s asking.” I let out a low chuckle, there was three officers, and they weren’t impressed. 

“Edward Munson, you have a right to remain silent…” one of the officers comes towards me. 

“Fuck right off!” I said, stepping back but he has the upper hand on me. He grabs my forearm and I swing my fist, connecting with the side of his jaw. The two other officers tackle me, and I’m still able to fight them off. I feel a back hand connect with my nose and mouth, tasting blood immediately. I’m finally forced onto my stomach, my hands are behind my back as I’m shouting profanities at them, letting them know my lawyer was one of the best in the country. They pull me to my feet, the officer that I punched looks at me like a disappointed father. 

“It’s a shame. You’re my son’s favorite band.” He wipes the blood from his face. 

“Gonna tell him to stop listening cause you’re dealing with the devil?” I grin at him, knowing very well there is blood staining my teeth. They pull me out of the hotel room, and lead me out to the lobby. There’s already a line of people outside, I see paparazzi. Oh, this is gonna be great. I wonder what the tabloids are gonna say about me now. 

Heavy metal rockstar Eddie Munson arrested in New York City for being on a drug induced psychosis and beating up cops. 

Probably not exactly that, but at least nobody found out I died for five minutes. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

We had driven to the studio in downtown Boston. It didn’t feel like winter, it felt like a cool spring day. I had to go back up to upstate New York for my therapy session, she was impressed with what more I had to say. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to get her to not think I was an asshole. I had mentioned you, and the way she looked at me made me think I was telling her a bedtime story. I had spoken to the paramedics that I had hurt the night of my overdose, apologizing for my behavior even though it probably didn’t mean much because I still hurt them, they never wanted to press charges because they’ve dealt with worse people but since the ambulance company was state run, charges had to be filed, as well as the charges for assaulting three police officers. I had to complete a 90 day program, continue my sobriety with a sponsor and have two years of mandatory therapy. 

You were excited to see the studio when we pulled into the lot. We had stayed at my condo, and I was exhausted. I was up all night doing the finishing touches to the song I was writing. I had sent it to Gareth this morning and all he had written back after I sent it was: “Dude. I’m weeping.” 

I’m not sure if that was a good or bad thing, but as soon as we walked into the studio Gareth had tackled me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. You had laughed at our exchanged, and he had done the same thing to you. Ted had arrived soon after with coffee and bagels. He had hugged you like he had known you forever, and when he saw me, I honestly could’ve cried. He had met us when we were a struggling newbie band, we were just kids. Straight out of a small town, no dime to our name. We would sleep in his basement, he’d cook us dinner and his wife would do our laundry. He’s why we’re here today, why we can do this job and I hope he knows just how grateful I am for him. 

This was my favorite place to record. It was mostly an office building, but we had owned the studio. No one bothered us, we didn’t bother them. We purposely remodeled it to make it soundproof, there was an engineering table, with two computers, and a sound mixing station. We had three recording booths, three large couches sat up against the wall. Ted sat on one, patting his forehead with a tissue. He was sweaty, seemed a little pale but he had mentioned earlier he felt like he was coming down with something. 

I sit next to him. “How was seeing your family?” 

He smiles at me. “Oh, it was great. The grandkids are getting so big. Julie wants to go for dinner tomorrow night.” 

I smile, nudging him with my shoulder. “That’s good, right?!”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles, looking over at you. Gareth was showing you all the different controls on the engineering board, and how the sound works through the speakers. I follow his eyes, and I smile.

“She’s beautiful.” He says with a grin. “Don’t fuck it up again.”

“I don’t plan on it.” I laugh, running hand through my hair. I was getting nervous about the recording, and he could sense that. Gareth was the only one who read it, and now I was going to be singing it in front of everyone. Even you. I didn’t show you what I had written, it feels like a diary entry almost. Gareth had already told me that he knew what music to put in for it, I had made a note towards the end where the heaviness would come in. 

“You’re gonna do great.” Ted says with a smile. “You always do. Remember, kid. Blank page, clean slate.” He goes to stand up from the couch and I poke his ass with the tip of my shoe.

“Thank you.” I tell him, quietly. “For never giving up on me.” 

He rolls his eyes, and winks, I laugh. “Save the theatrics for later, you got work to do.” He claps me on the shoulder, and I let out a loud sigh. I walk towards the recording booth, the song in my hands. Gareth gently massages my shoulders, following me into the booth.

“You got this, man.” He tells me. “Deep breaths, sing your heart out, block everyone out, and just feel it.” 

I nod at him, shaking the nerves out of my hands as I close the door to the booth. I lay the paper on the stand and place the headphones over my ears. I hear Jeff’s voice over the speakers in my ears. 

“Ready?” 

“No.” I laugh and give him a thumbs up through the window. 

I already had the melody in my head, it was just Gareth’s job to mimic it, and Jeff would add the background after. I glance at the song, meet your eyes, and I smile. 

I begin.

“It’s cold in here, my hands shake, my bones ache. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. All the mistakes, they’re catching up, maybe I should’ve just been left for dead. My mind is broken; the walls I made are crumbling around me. It’s so easy to just be, but the ache is there, it calls to me, I just want it inside of me.  Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. Down the rabbit hole I go, how are they supposed to find me? Will I be bone, will I be ash, will I be lost for good?  I don’t regret it, it’s why I’m here, my heart bleeds in my chest. One last shot, that’s all I want, and then maybe they will heal. It’s all I dream, the clouds around me, smiling as I go. But you came back, screaming my name, and it all fades to black. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. It’s so easy just to be, but it calls to me, calls to me. An angel with wings, that’s what I thought, but it was a devil in disguise. I can’t go back, I have to repent, my sins are killing me. My sins are killing me!” I extend the note at the end, and I hear Gareth on the drums. I keep my eyes closed, nodding my head to his beat. I wait for three beats, one, two three…and I’m yelling out the song, feeling my stomach muscles clench as my voice comes out, sounding broken, and angry.

“Cold floors, cold walls, I can’t feel anything at all, just these thoughts that haunt my mind, driving me fucking insane, one last shot that’s all I want, I don’t want to feel this. But somehow, I’m still alive, and there’s nothing left to see. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home. Down the rabbit hole I go, can’t find my way, can’t find my way, can’t find my way back home.”  I add the second to last verse again, followed by the chorus, and I yell, my voice fading, and I glance over at my bandmates. In the speakers of my ears, I hear Jeff, “Fuck YEAH, man!” 

I laugh, taking the headphones off my ears. You had tears in your eyes as you’re clapping, and I come out of the booth. Gareth is already whooping as he comes out of the booth, his drumsticks in his hand. 

“Play it back.” I tell them. I look over at Ted, who’s smiling with tears in his eyes. I squeeze his shoulder and he places his hand over mine. We listen to it back, and I’m amazed at how it sounds. We begin to brainstorm on what melody should go where, where to add the guitar. How heavy it should sound at the end. We spent about three hours in the studio, recording the music, adding more riffs, adding piano to it. Once it was completed to our liking, we listened. We haven’t had a melodic song like this since our first album, and I couldn’t believe that was my voice. 

“I say we go celebrate by getting some Italian.” Ted says with a grin.  

“You buying?” I grin, pulling you towards me by your waist. 

“Ha, you’re funny. Let me piss first.” He goes into the bathroom, and I lean my head against your shoulder. 

“That song was amazing.” You tell me, gently rubbing my chin. “I forgot you could sing like that.” 

“Wasn’t that great.” I say, giving you a goofy smile and you nudge me with your shoulder. 

“It was perfect.” You kiss my lips gently and I grin. 

“Ugh, don’t miss that.” Gareth laughs and pokes my stomach. “I’m starving, where’s Teddy?” 

“Bathroom.” 

I watch as Gareth walk into the bathroom and the door closes behind him. “Teddy! Are you taking a shit? Did you fall in?” 

We both giggle. I turn to you, but your eyes are somewhere else. Gareth has come out of the bathroom, his face ashen, his body trembling. “Call 911.” He says loudly. Jeff whips up his head, and the engineer is immediately on the phone. 

“What?” My heart is in my throat. 

I watch as you run into the bathroom, I go to follow you, but Gareth stops me, his hand on my chest, tears are streaming down his face. “Don’t go in there, Eddie.” 

I push his hand off me, ignoring his words and I jog to the bathroom. “Eddie! Eddie!” 

I skid to a halt, watching as you’re giving chest compressions to Ted. Gareth slams his chest into me but has remained frozen as he stares at what you’re doing.  

He’s not moving, his eyes are partially closed, and I see a little blood in the corner of his mouth. “Ted?” I almost yell. 

You look up at me, your expression in full nurse mode as you continue your compressions, feeling his pulse. “Eddie, stay outside, please.” 

I don’t hear you; I slide to the floor and move next to Ted. Trying to see, trying to understand. “Wake up, man.” I say, my heart beating fast. I hear blood rushing in my ears. I couldn’t see his chest rise and fall; just the force of your compressions trying to pump air in his lungs. 

“Eddie, come on.” Gareth sputters out, his hand on my shoulder. I slap him away, there was a cold chill going down my spine. 

“Teddy, wake up.” I’m getting angry now, I feel my throat lock up, and tears sting behind my eyes. He was fucking with us, he had to be. I place my hand on his, he was still warm, but I got no reaction. “Wake the fuck up, man!” 

I watch as you sit back on your heels, your eyes meet Gareth’s and I see you shake your head, you look at me now. “Eddie…”

“No.” I say through my teeth, I hold his face in my hands. “Teddy. Teddy. Wake up. Stop fucking with us man, stop this.” He’s not even looking at me, his chest isn’t moving. I feel myself trembling. I shake his head. “Teddy, wake up!” I feel your hand on my forearm, Gareth’s hand fisting my shirt from behind. I can hear the sound of a two-way radio outside the door. An angry, loud, groan escapes me and I’m sobbing. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t fucking do this to me, man. Please wake up. You’re supposed to go to dinner with Julie tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I’m better now. I promise, just wake up. Please Teddy. Please.” 

The paramedics are in the bathroom now, and I can feel Gareth pulling me back. A loud, guttural, groan escapes my lungs as Gareth has to practically drag me from the bathroom. “Teddy!” I scream, thrashing against Gareth’s grasp. The struggle causes both of us to fall on our asses to the floor, and he’s almost restraining me. You’re in front of me now, holding my face in your hands as angry sobs and groans scream out of me. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” You say calmly. “You’re gonna hyperventilate, Eddie. Breathe.” 

“I don’t care!” I moan out, my teeth grinding. My ears still ringing, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening. He was the closest thing I’ve had to a father and there was no way he was gone. 

“Eddie, baby, please…”

I struggle in Gareth’s grasp, my body still shaking with sobs as I see them wheel Ted out from the bathroom. A mask over his face, the paramedic on top of him doing compressions. They disappear, telling us what hospital and nothing is making sense. Nothing. None of it. 

I felt like I was in a fever dream as I pace in the hospital waiting room. I was talking to myself, reassuring myself that he was okay, that he was alive and would be cracking jokes in his hospital bed. I wouldn’t talk to anyone, even you. I had tried calling Julie, but her phone had immediately gone to voice mail. Gareth was still pale, sipping out of the same coffee cup he has been for the last half hour. 

The doctor had come, and before he could even say the words, I’m walking away from him. I’m holding my stomach; afraid my insides are gonna fall out and a jagged breath escapes me. A sound I never knew I could make before comes rattling out of me, it hurt so much. A massive heart attack killed him. 

“We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. If it gives you any sort of comfort, he didn’t feel much. If anything it just felt like a tickle.” I whip my head around to look at him, I know my eyes are wide and look feral. 

“Do you actually know that though? You don’t know what or how he felt, so don’t even fucking claim that you do.” My voice is breaking, and you pull me away from the doctor, leading me to sit. “I don’t want to sit!” I shout, but your palm is on my chest, gently pushing me down. I hear Gareth say a few more words to the doctor and he walks away. He is handing me a plastic bag, it had Ted’s key, his wallet, his phone, his fucking wedding ring. 

“They need Julie to release his body to the funeral home, have you gotten ahold of her?” His voice sounds far away, he’s still crying, and I can’t look at him, I just shake my head. My hands are trembling as I’m gazing at the plastic bag, I shake my head, rubbing the snot from my nose. Ted’s phone vibrates in the bag, and I see Julie’s name light up. I stare at her name, and I pull the phone out. I stand up from the seat, clearing my throat as I slide to answer. 

“Julie?” I hold my stomach, a small sob escaping me. 

"Hello? Eddie?” She already sounds panicked. “I have no reception where I am, what are you doing answering Teddy’s phone?”

“Um.” I let out a small groan. “We’re in Boston, at a hospital. Ted, he…he uh…” I can’t say it, I can’t fucking say it.

“Eddie…what is going on?” I hear her voice shake.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my wrist falling away with the phone before I put it to my ear again. “Ted’s gone…he…he died.” 

“No, he didn’t.” She inhales a gasp. “Eddie, don’t lie to me, no he didn’t!”

I’m weeping. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“No Eddie!” She’s screaming, a loud, heartbreaking scream. “I talked to him earlier, he was fine! He was fine! Oh jesus…”

“I know, I know. We were at the studio…and…and then he was in the bathroom. He didn’t hear me; I was trying to wake him up. Julie, I tried, I tried to wake him up, I’m so sorry.” My knees are buckling as I’m sliding to the floor, my body aching, my throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Eddie, Eddie, you listen to me right now. Don’t fall back on what you’ve come so far to accomplish. He was proud of you. Despite everything, he loved you, Eddie. You were like a son to him, don’t fall apart now. You hear me?” I nod into the phone; I can’t see straight. I don’t even remember her asking me what hospital, or when she said she would be there. I was still crumpled on the floor, you were at my side, rubbing my head, and I was scrolling through the photos on his phone. There was so many of his grandkids, his kids. There was a bunch of us performing, a bunch of random selfies because I’m sure he forgot how to flip the camera. I scroll through his contacts, trying to remember if there was anyone else, I needed to call. I stop when I see your name.

What?

You’re not looking at me, you’re talking to Gareth about something I’m not bothering to listen to. I click your contact name and see a thread of text messages between you and Ted. It goes back seven months ago. 

What the fuck?

Before I could even make a comment on what I have seen, the doctor comes back, asking if we’d like to see him. I place the phone in my pocket, I would deal with this later. I didn’t even know how to react towards you, why were you talking to him seven months ago if you just met him today? I get up from the floor, and I realize I’m ignoring you. I turn to kiss your lips quickly, Gareth, Jeff and I follow the doctor to a hospital room. I watch as you sit down, waving at me defeatedly, looking tired, sad. I could feel my heart breaking and I didn’t even know why.

They tell us as soon as we’re outside the room that we would have to go in one at a time. Jeff goes in first; I’ve never seen him cry before, and when he came out, he looked like he was about to pass out. I fist his shirt to get him to stand upright, and I hug him to me. Gareth goes in next, he’s in there for a few minutes until he comes out, wiping his eyes, looking at me like I could shatter at any moment. 

I pat his back, reassuring him that I was okay. But I’m not sure if I was.  I step into the room; the lights were bright. Ted was laying on his back, a white sheet was up to his chest. My stomach clenches again and I have to support myself on the bed rail before I sit down. 

I take his hand; it was so cold. I had to warm him up. He shouldn’t be cold. Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at his face. I’m not sure if he looked peaceful, or if he looked dead. 

“I still think you’re fucking with me.” I tell him quietly. “After all those times you brought me back, I would think this was some sort of punishment.” My lips tremble and I feel hot tears pool down my cheeks. “Fuck you, man. Why’d you have to go and die on me? After everything – after so many years of you practically raising us to be better men, better friends, a better brotherhood. What are we supposed to do now? What are we supposed to do without you?” 

A sob escapes me, a small whimper, my head falls to his bed and I’m laying my forehead against his hand, holding it tight, my chest hurting, my stomach in knots. I feel strong arms on my shoulders, pulling me up. 

“Come on, dude.” It’s Gareth, my head falls to his chest, I felt weak, he helps me out of the chair. I feel like I’m being weighed down by cement as I stare at his body. 

“No…” I groan out loud, I sound like a kid. A kid who just said goodbye to the only person he’d ever known as a father. “I can’t leave him.” 

“It’s okay, dude. I’m here.” Gareth continued to lead me away, my head falls in my hands and I’m groaning again. It hurts, it all hurts too fucking much. 

We waited until Julie got to the hospital a few hours later, I could barely stand up when I saw her. She was cradling me like a small child, rubbing my head, telling me everything was gonna be okay. I didn’t want her to comfort me, I told her. After everything I put him through, she should hate me. She told me that she could never hate me, that I meant so much to her and Ted, that we all did. That she prayed everyday my heart still beat, and that I’d fight the addiction I so desperately craved right now. 

Once Ted was set to go to the funeral home in his hometown in Vermont, you had driven my car back to my condo. You were leaving tomorrow, going back to Maine, to go back to work. We don’t speak when we take the elevator up to my place. I’m on my phone looking at news articles, there was no way the media didn’t get wind of this. 

And I was right, the first article on Google says: Longtime friend and manager of Corroded Coffin, Theodore “Teddy” Callahan has died of a heart attack, at 58. I toss my phone roughly on the couch, you jump a little and I mutter that I was sorry. You sit next to me, wrapping your arms around my shoulders, you lay your cheek on my arm. 

“What can I do?” You ask me sweetly. 

I don’t answer you; I’m staring off, I can’t see straight. Tears still continue to pour down my cheeks. My entire body feels stiff. I had to know, I had to know why she was in Ted’s phone. Why it seems they have been talking longer than they let on. 

“How long have you been talking to Ted?” I feel you freeze next to me. 

“What? I just met him today.” 

I meet your eyes, I’m not in the mood for games. “You may have met him today, but you’ve been talking to him for seven fuckingmonths.” 

You pull away from me, rubbing your eyes. “Eddie, I can explain that.” 

“So, explain.” I feel my chest heaving. There are so many emotions: grief, anger, sadness, the urge to stick a needle in my veins. 

You just stare at me; I can tell you’re trying to figure out what to say. Realization settles in my gut and I stand up from the couch. “That letter was a crock of shit, wasn’t it?” 

“No, no Eddie! I meant every word.” Your eyes are filling with tears. 

“You LIED to me!” I yell at you. “You said Gareth gave you my number. Gareth didn’t even fuck know you were around until the other day! When did Ted reach out to you? Because I know you didn’t.” 

“After your overdose, after everything with the courts.” You sigh, standing and walking toin were me, I step back from you. “Eddie, I wasn’t gonna send you a letter at first. I couldn’t do it. It was like someone brought you back from the dead even though you were alive.” 

“So, you knew everything about me, about my struggles, about ALL of it and just pretended to care? Pretended this whole time?” I’m staring at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m not pretending Eddie! He reached out to me because he was scared, he didn’t know what else to do. He said you kept talking about me, how sad you seemed and he thought maybe, maybe I’d be able to help. I was fully ready to just see you, rekindle our friendship but I never thought we’d end up here. When I saw you, it all came rushing back and I couldn’t control it. I love you, I have always loved you.” 

“That don’t mean shit if you came to see me out of pity.” I feel tears sting my eyes again; I just want to rip my fucking eyeballs out. 

“I didn’t! I came here because I was worried.” 

“Your aunt just happened to be away that entire week?” 

You stare at me. 

“Answer me!” I yell, my voice breaking. 

“My aunt has been dead for five years. When I travel I use her place because she left it to me.” You sound so small and I just laugh at you. 

“That’s fucked up. Even for you.” I clench my fists, pressing them to my eyes and you let out a sob. “These last three weeks, you’ve been making love to me, cooking for me, bringing me gifts from the past, telling me that you love me, when this entire time you had no intention in ever speaking to me again if it wasn’t for Ted?” 

“Eddie, I thought about you every day!” 

“Stop the bull shit! Stop it!” I clench my stomach, the same familiar ache forming. “I don’t believe you. Every time you speak, I hear a lie, even if you are telling me the truth. Is this punishment? For breaking your heart? Well, you win, sweetheart! Cause mine is a pile of fucking dust!” 

“Eddie, please.” You’re sputtering. “Let’s talk about this.” 

“No.” I shake my head at you, tears falling. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want you to get out.” 

“What?” 

“Get the fuck out of my house.” 

You stare at me with wide eyes, pure heartbreak and disappointment on your face. I have to look away from you, I can’t look at you. Because if I look at you this way, I’ll want to take you in my arms, kiss your tears away and pretended like this never happened, but I can’t do it. I can’t. You don’t say anything to me as you take your purse off the couch, you look back at me once and I meet your eyes. I watch as you walk away from me, down the hall until you get to the elevators. A shaky sob escapes me, and I sit on my floor, I hold my head in my hands. Before, I was the one who walked away from you, because I couldn’t handle how to be loved by you. Now, I’m sending you away, because I can’t stomach the thought of you actually still loving me, after everything, after all the pain, the things I’ve done. Maybe you really don’t, and this whole thing was just a game. 

How could you love someone like me? I’m broken, I’m damaged. 

I’m still a fucking monster. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ A/N: Thank you guys! Don't worry, it's not over! Taglist: @kellsck @bellalillyrose @iggyizalien @trixyvixx @originalstar1 @themorticians-world

[desolate-canary]

tmagp 16 spoilers

i think i need Lena to yell at me like that. i think it would fix me.

“Are. You. STUPID?” like ma’am i’m LITERALLY on my knees for you. please.

also the celia alice hug ?? hello ??

like i’m physically not okay

also the statement? AMAZING. i was giggling the whole time — up until the END with that NOISE ???

i need to know more about ink5oul. we know they’re tied to alchemy somehow (from Daria’s therapy session), and we know that they have some connection to dead bodies (lovely) from Gordie and from this new statement. also their voice ??? literally going feral

god i just need Lena to yell at me the way she did at gwen because Holy Shit. like actually what the fuck i’m physically unwell i Need her. think about this constantly

overall i love all these guys and need them carnally thank you for coming to my ted talk

[calzone-d]

I’m so psyched for headcannons!!! What about one that’s a little angsty like you and Ted on a break?

i’m glad you’re excited! thanks for sending this in! we all love a little angst. (tagging @carmylasso because I know she’s all about some angst)

got a lil long winded with this one and just ran with it, don’t say i didn’t warn you!

also, spoilers for season 3 if you haven’t watched yet.

ted would absolutely overthink everything

i feel like he’d intiate it while dealing with the whole dr. jacob mess

he thinks about how easily michelle cheated, how it was right under his nose

how he had NO idea it was even happening

his anxiety gets the best of him and combined with the stress of the team he has a “you know what? let’s push everyone away” moment

you guys had only gone on a couple dates, but have been close friends since he moved to richmond

he felt he’d gotten over Michelle enough to where he could finally express his feelings for you without that getting in the way

def would do it after the phone call, and a couple glasses of whiskey

he does it over the phone, his words are slurred and his voice is thick and you can tell somethings just wrong, but he hangs up before you can question him any further

you text him

“Ted, please talk to me about this. Things have been going good, I thought”

“They were. It’s not you, I’m sorry.”

and that’s it for a couple days

EESH maybe he doesn’t show up to work for the rest of the week, calls in “sick”

and when he tries pulling that excuse the next week, beard & roy go over to his apartment and straighten him the fuck out

they make him shower, help him clean, make him eat

“What does y/n have to say about all of this?”

“She uh- she don’t know.”

and they think about how you acted at work and put the pieces together

they lovingly rip into him about how he’s known you for over a year now, how they know he’s hurt by michelle’s cheating but not everyone is like that

what gets him is when they talk about how you’ve been at work. not happy or bubbly as usual, eating alone in your office, always having a sniffle and puffy eyes in the halls.

“Shit, y’all.. I-I did that to her.. I was just tryin’ to avoid getting hurt again I never meant to-“

Beard shakes is head and is like “No, tell her that”

would have a therapy session the next day and explains everything to dr sharon, she also tells him that he handled that wrong and should’ve just let you in, or asked for some reassurance from you

after that, he goes to your apartment with flowers and shaky hands

you answer in a robe, wine bottle behind you, eyes red and swollen, he can tell you’ve been crying.

your usually tidy living room is super cluttered

“Can I come in? I’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

breaks his heart when you sit on the opposite end of the couch instead of right beside him

he explains what happened with michelle, his thought process of not wanting to get hurt again, all of it

“I wasn’t the one that did that, Ted. I shouldn’t be punished for her mistake.”

“I know.. That was unfair, and I’m sorry.”

definitely not the type of guy to ignore the fact he made a mistake

“This won’t work without trust, Ted. I cant be in a relationship with you if you don’t trust me.”

“There was never an issue with trust, it was just- I was scared. So scared, y/n.”

“Then tell me that next time. Tell me what you’re scared of, or if i’ve done something to make you feel scared, or if you just need reassurance. I can work with that, Ted, but not if you just shut me out.”

“Do you think we could maybe uh, make some sorta system for when I’m feelin’ that way? Because I can’t promise I won’t be kinda scared for a while but I don’t want it messin’ with what we’ve got goin’ on. Don’t want her messin’ up anymore of the good things in my life.”

sooo that’s what you do. maybe similar to the “oklahoma” situation, you come up with a word for when he’s feeling scared or anxious, particularly when it’s related to the relationship

tears up a bit, it’s just pretty emotional overall

maybe you sit in on a session with dr sharon

i do think he’d make some strong improvement after that, like how we’ve seen with his panic attacks

would set boundaries about things that make him especially anxious, and asks you to do the same

very open and honest as a lover, regardless of the whole michelle shitshow

so apologetic for a while because he know what he did was wrong

oh god just imagine him holding while he calms down that night

he’d need you so close

just needs to feel you around him

needs to feel you breathe, smell your shampoo, needs to know you’re there for him

i’m so fucking soft for this man

thanks anon!! this was fun!!

[blue-dot-dott]

i'm procrastinating studying rn so here's a list of my kins and reasons why i kin them

*drum roll*

nimona (nimona)

chaoic gremlin, genderfluid, "fuck the government" personified, just wants to be accepted and loved for who she is, pretends to be "a villain" and plays into that "evil" role society made for her to protect herself emotionally, destructive

blitz (helluva boss)

chaotic, traumatized, parents would've wanted someone else as their child instead of him, hides insecurities and inferiority complex behind fake big ego

catra (she ra and the princesses of power)

mommy issues, her mother would've wanted someone else as her child instead of her, "this person hurt me so i'm gonna be successful, beat them in every aspect of life and shove my success and their failure in their face every time i see them" mindset

marcy (amphibia)

unimportant friend in a trio, friends don't share her niche interests, very much a daydreamer, "i excel at school so i can play video games and read comics/manga and watch cartoons/anime/movies" vibes, escapes reality by running away into a fantasy world where everything is magical and amazing and new and interesting

luz (the owl house)

"the truth can't hurt me if i pretend it doesn't exist" mindset, daydreamer, escapes reality by running away to a fantasy land where everything is not better, but new and interesting, lies to loved ones about her own wellbeing in order to avoid worrying them, has absolutely no idea what she wants from life or where she's going or what her future is

amity (the owl house)

mommy issues, "i've been following my parents orders blindly and not even thinking about my life up until a certain point when i realized that the life they chose for me doesn't fit me/isn't something i want for myself and now i have to rebel/convince them to let me make my own choices" mindset

willow (the owl house)

insecure af, nice and kind towards her friends and ready to murder anyone who even considers harming them, "everyone has bigger issues than me right now so i'll focus all of my attention on being there for them and i'll be emotionally vulnerable and deal with my issues later, wgen everything gets resolved" mindset (which leads to bottling up emotions despite having friends for support)

gus (the owl house)

gifted kid TM, his skills are so integrated into who he is that he has an existential crisis every time he mildly fucks up anything he's usually good/great at

diane (bojack horseman)

"good damage." that's it.

well that's all folks! thank you for coming to my ted talk / therapy session! i'll see you when/if i survive exam week!! :D

[bakshiis]

i literally jack off after every single therapy session.

i'm used to unhinged bullshit coming from ted's mouth at this point. for some reason he had decided to latch onto me as a conversation buddy when he had started working at mq regardless of how many times i have informed him that i'm not looking to make friends at work. apparently boundaries are a concept that escapes the coder, which is why i find him in my office trying to make idle conversation. i was thankful that david was in meetings all day, leaving me with an office to myself. maybe the universe was punishing me for getting my hopes up.

"god, ted." i say with a groan, snatching one of the stress balls of my desk. i toss it in the air a few times, keeping my focus on anything but him. "you realize if i told carol what you were talking to me about right now, you'd get written up." my eyes finally meet his, and i raise my brow. "you might get off on talking about feelings but i do not. in fact, i'm not interested in this conversation at all! so you can leave. now."

@sleazeballtm

[smooth-boob]

⭐ !!!

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut Game

Thank you for sending this, and once again I am literally so sorry, but this is just going to be a long diary entry about The Bustle in a House, a Bridgerton fic I wrote, particularly the epilogue. My inner monologue is loud, and normally it's just me in here! Apart from being unhinged in tags, I don't post a lot of personal things on here, but I have something to say!

I feel like I talk about The Bustle in a House a lot on here, and in terms of hits/kudos/statistics, it's not one of my most popular fics (I mean, it's not shippy and it's aggressively sad, so I get it lol), but it was really a breakthrough story for me! Link at the bottom for shameless self promo, woo.

It's funny, looking at my google docs now, I guess it only took me six weeks to write, but it was literally all I thought about for those six weeks. I was scratching at the walls of my enclosure writing this thing. Apart from a couple Bridgerton one-shots and a quickly abandoned fic, I hadn't written almost anything on my own in such a long time. It was also emotionally charged and gritty and I was so impatient to get the story out but I needed to get it out the way that felt right.

Beyond that, I struggle(d) to write complete stories that aren't just scenes stitched to each other. Honestly, Bustle is still like that, but it all stitches together very nicely if I do say so myself. Still, I had been agonizing a little bit over the fact that I didn't know how the fic was going to end. I couldn't keep writing it forever...I mean, I guess I could, because it's really not that long, and there's actually more of it in my drafts, but I was trying to tell a very particular story and also have I mentioned that I am impatient? But the story didn't have an end because it's an origin story about unhealed trauma, so what was I going to do with that?

So, at least to give myself a bookend to the real story, I wrote the epilogue. I wrote it in a thirty-minute fit of inspiration one evening while tipsy on red wine, sitting at a desk in my parents' house where I'd been living for about three years because y'know, pandemic, and I was feeling trapped and burnt out and indecisive and afraid, etc. and if you read it, you might see me staring at you through Anthony, wink wink. (Quick caveat that, unlike Anthony, living with my parents was an overall loving experience at that point in my life!)

Anyway, in true Hemingway spirit, I wrote drunk, and when I went to edit sober, I was delighted that it didn't need much help. I obsessed over details, like changing scotch to whisky and then to brandy (it's sweeter, and he's so young). This is not to say that the epilogue is perfect; it's not, but it is what it needed to be.

It is a love poem of a kind for a character that hit me hard. It's a short prose poem about grief and loneliness and the 'wrong' ways to heal and it's about thinking you're at the acceptance stage of grief but really it's just depression. It's about losing parts of yourself and coming of age into something that doesn't feel right but feels inevitable, and so you stop fighting and just get on with it. It's about the before, and Anthony not knowing that he has an after and eventually, yes, years later eventually, he's going to be okay. More than okay, he's going to be happy.

(And he only has a year until Doing The Voices, and I let him be happy for at least a few nights in that! He doesn't know that he's doing the right things when taking care of his family. Not always, but more than he knows he is.)

As for me, I moved out of my parents' house and into my own newly purchased 'bachelor lodgings' (so to speak) about a month after I posted the last chapter, and I'm writing more than I have in years! Baby steps! Adult steps!

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk/therapy session. Probably no one should ask me anything else for a while lmao, who knows what will happen!

Read The Bustle in a House on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47126467

Or if you don't feel like being sad, read Doing The Voices instead: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47976274

[freyatarotreadings8]

When you were a child and your parents repeated something to you over and over again - and there was no one else around you against whom you could check the correctness of thesestatements.

//

Hi freya, long time!! I would like to acknolowdge this words that I consider to be very accurate. When we are kids, and I would say almost until we reach the age of 18 (a legal adult) , there is a part of us that has not develop at all, and is because of common factors (social economics and cultural), when we grow up and exchange experiences with others is when we could actually understand why everyone is so different, and our point of view is not the most important or the right one in every case.

And this is why I believe education (in any form) is so important, teaches you not only that there is a whole other World outside your own moral-beliefs and story, but also teaches us to be an emphatic and kinder person.

Also, starting a healing Journey like in therapy sessions can help us to give a look at out own childhood, but also a closure. Forgiving ourselves because we were children and naives at that time is the start to deconstruct part of our whole system.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 😳 much love freya! Hope you are doing well

Hi.

100%

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts 🧡

[will-grahams-baby-girl]

Ok, idk if this needs a trigger warning or not. So here's one anyway. Childhood trauma.

Vent session

But I've been thinking alot lately about how I've been in therapy since I was a toddler. And I realized that, up until about a year ago, I had never been really honest with my therapists. Granted, sometimes when I was, when I was a kid, they wouldn't believe me about what I told them. But it's been on my mind alot cause I realized that I was taught to lie. My caregiver taught me to lie because she was more worried that she would have her crutch taken away from her than she was for my well-being. It just blows my mind because I've gone my most of my 21 years thinking therapy was just venting to someone about your problems, instead of actually making progress.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[writeaboutit]

Something that probably should be written in my journal and not here but if you want the juicy details of my trauma then here you go🤲 (warning homoerotic friendship? I know this sucks):

Okay listen to my TED talk real quick I promise it's juicy... So basically a few days ago I'm scrolling on Bubble, as one does, and I stumbled across the one, the only— My best friend from years ago who, upon further pondering, I was in love with. The first girl I ever loved.

I know what you're thinking: there is no way this could ever turn out good anddd... you would be 100 % correct. So, me and this girl meet in high school. I thought I really wanted to be friends with her (ahem GAY👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩). So we became friends and are so close it's stupid, like at one point she's living with me for two weeks (and we definitely did not sleep on a twin-sized mattress together even though there was a perfectly good air mattress right there, nooooo couldn't be us🚫). Then after years of weekends spent at each other's houses and family trips taken together, she begins talking to this guy.

I'm happy for her, it's great, neither of us have ever dated anyone(again GAY) so it'll be fun. Wrong. This is the exact moment I can see the first fissure in our...friendship. Then suddenly things break down RAPIDLY. I mean, I'm completely blindsided it was so fast.

Within the first month, I'm being phased out of the friend group and within two months we've gone no contact. I've destroyed friendship bracelets and old photos. I was, to put it lightly, gutted. I spent my senior year almost completely alone, it was probably the worst time of my life.

In those first few months, I thought the devastation I was feeling was due to the fact that I had just lost my best friend in a pretty vile way (because that last convo we had was not pleasant) but now that I've had a few years to recollect myself (and do some self-discovery: GAY🧡🤍🩷) I realize that those feelings I was experiencing were literal heartbreak.

I thought up until last week that I had made my peace with it, that I was gay and in love with her and the way it ended broke my heart and not hers and that's it, but now that I've come out and can discuss this whole situation with another friend (who witnessed all those years and says there was something more going on there) it's come to my attention that she is gay and maybe I did not read into it.

It's literally sending me into a spiral because I know I will probably never talk to her again which means I will never know for sure but like... come on. IDK, I know I rambled as fuck but this was basically a therapy session with myself.

If your read all this I'm assuming you probably experienced something similar so sorry if that's the case, it fucking sucks👎🏼, but it's okay it will pass (I hope, fuck this is just dredging it all up lmao).

Moral of the story: avoid homoerotic friendships with a ten-foot pole 🙅‍♀️and don't get on Bumble because you might see the first girl you ever loved on there💔. Okay bye, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

You wanna know what I find funny?

In the MCU, Tony is 31 years older than Peter

But, in the 616 comics-verse, Tony is only 7 years older than Peter

So, in the movies, we get a fantastic—nay, an epic—father & son dynamic, but, in the comics, their relationship is kinda inconsistent throughout the more than 50 years worth of comics but they mostly just act like step-brothers who only sometimes get along.

[charnelhouse]

I really need Thor to tell me he's gonna fuck the sadness & anxiety outta me. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

A/N: Thor x F!reader. Smut. Anxiety.

You stagger down to the lowest floor of the quinjet. Your hand flexes sporadically as you pin it to your chest. Your head throbs - flutters and pulses behind your skull. There’s blood staining your boots and your tac gear. There’s the taste of it in your mouth.

You brush past the others, not even pausing when Steve calls after you. 

“Let her go,” You hear Natasha tell them. “That was a lot.”

Yes. It was.

You stumble when you reach the storage locker. You can hear the wind scraping the steel of the jet. You can hear the vortex of space circulating around its hollow structure. There’s the sharp hum of the engine. You want to be out of it. You want to feel small and slight.

You catch your reflection in the mirrored surface of one of the weapon chests. There’s dark red drying beneath your nose, coating your top lip. You try to wipe it away, scrubbing furiously and knocking your hand against your teeth. You’d lost yourself. You’d nearly blown up the whole facility because you couldn’t get a firm grip on your powers. You’re certain that you’d been a sight: eyes gone pale and foggy, blood dripping from your nose and ears as you put your mind into overdrive. 

I wanted to save us. They threatened everyone. They threatened him.

You’d made four Hydra scientists burst like pink confetti.

Surprise. It’s a party.

At least that’s what Tony had said as he tried to make light of the situation. Everyone else has been stunned into silence.

You lean into the wall, shoving your forehead against the frigid steel. It hurts. Everything hurts and you’re -

“Stop.”

You go rigid. There’s a presence at your back. Warm and domineering and smelling of leather and sweat and ozone. You feel his hands on your hips, his chin resting atop your head. There’s the deep, swell of his breathing and when he seals himself to you, your body automatically moves with him. Undulating. Slow. His chest rises and so does yours. His heartbeat is regular and constant.

“Breathe,” he gently orders. “Relax. No one is blaming you for what happened back there.”

Thor would not normally speak like this. In fact, he probably would have boasted about you blowing up their enemies with a twitch of your nose. Did you see that?! Gods - that was beautiful. Barely lifted a finger. He usually would have been loud and unruly and supportive, but he has learned that it’s better to approach you gingerly. He listens - thoughtful and consoling.

“I couldn’t-couldn’t control it.” His grip on your hips tightens, his bearded jaw rubbing against your temple in a soothing manner. “I got so scared that they’d take down the facility with us in it.”

He makes a gruff noise of frustration before spinning you around. It’s a sudden movement. His hands are on your shoulders as he pins you to the wall. He tilts his head down - eyes boring into yours as he speaks to you in a harsh voice. “They would have. You saved us.”

“I can’t control it, Thor.”

He cups your cheek, his lips flattening to a thin line. He’s being patient with you. He’s trying to understand your panic even though you feel incredibly stupid for having a breakdown after every mission. You go to the ordered therapy sessions. You go to the meditation lessons. You do everything right except when it counts.

“Then we will train you more. There’s Wanda and Strange. They will help you. I will help you…” He gives you a suggestive look filled with heat and desire and longing. “…though I’m not the most patient person…definitely not very calm.” He brushes his thumb over your lower lip and you inhale sharply. He smells good. He smells safe and he’s looking at you with dark eyes and flushed cheeks. He’s so big that he’s able to cover you completely - hide you from everything outside of him. You clutch at his cape as you try to anchor yourself to his broad form. He protects you. He always does even when you don’t ask. He makes you feel tiny.

“Thor,” you whisper - his name cracking as you try and smother the sob that’s threatening to break out from your throat. It’s like he’s biologically connected to you, it’s like he feels it because his expression suddenly softens - concern shining bright as he lowers his head to nudge his nose against the tip of your own.

“What do you need?” He murmurs the question, mouth parting over yours in the feign of a kiss. He nips the corner of your lips as you take another shuddering breath.

You wonder if it’s wrong or unhealthy to crave him this way. It’s like clockwork. The second you begin to tip over the edge of a full-fledged panic attack, you reach for Thor. He fucks you. He makes it better. There was some part of you that instinctively knew he would follow you down here. He couldn’t leave you alone. It was how it happened the first time. You’d been nearly killed during a mission and he could see how stricken you were. He’d gone to your room. He’d strode toward you before his hands cradled the nape of your neck and he dragged you into a kiss so fierce it hurt. 

Let me make it better. Let me show you. 

“They’ll hear,” you murmur even though you’re already shoving at his trousers. He glances down between you, his lips quirking into an amused smile as you struggle with the Asgardian leather. 

“They won’t,” He pulls at the zipper of your suit before rucking it down, his palms sliding over your bare shoulders and arms. He cups your breasts, squeezing them as his eyes rake over your face. He’s studying you, searching for a single tell of hesitation. His nostrils flare. The line of his jaw flexes.

When he sees none, he captures your cheeks and forces you to his lips. His kiss is like a fever. It’s sloppy and desperate as his tongue tangles with yours, exploring the roof and cup of your mouth. It’s hot. Every part of him is absurdly gorgeous and you can’t seem to care that the flavor of his sweat is now behind your teeth.

You want more of his body. You want to trace every muscle - every vein and ligament and stretch of flesh. 

It takes nothing for him to lift you, hitching your knee over his waist as his fingers press and feel between your legs. He’s teasing your cunt, tweaking your clit - rubbing the seam of your sex with his knuckles and the pads of his fingertips.

“Fuck,” he rumbles because you’re soaked. You’re swelling with arousal for him and, your grief, the chaos beneath your skin, has lessened to a buzz. Thor has pushed it away from you with every rough kiss and harsh squeeze.

“You know,” he recalls in a low, ragged voice. “I saw them threaten you and I felt that fury - that rage - that I haven’t felt in a long…long time.” He’s inside you - two of his fingers pumping deep and wet and loud. “Someone trying to take something that was mine.” He growls. You try and bite down the moans leaking out of you, he’s stretching your pussy - deliberate in every slide and twist of his calloused knuckles. “I’m glad you killed them.” He licks into your mouth - nearly feral. “Because I would have done it myself.”

You grimace - shutting your eyes at the pressure of him breaking you open. It’s too much. His words. His touch. “Look at me,” he demands and you do because you’re mindless at this point - just following simple direction. “It wasn’t your fault…you did what you had to do.”

You can feel him releasing himself from his trousers. There’s the shift and squeak of his boots - the crude sound of your cunt being finger-fucked to oblivion. His eyebrows draw together as he stares at you. He’s cheeks flush. “Tell me you understand.”

His thumb finds your clit and you jerk, nails digging into the back of his neck - under the damp curtain of his golden hair. “Tell me,” he repeats and you nod - fast and out of control because you’ll do anything he says as long as he keeps going.

“Good girl,” he smiles and it’s stunning. It’s full of genuine delight - hunger and a burning desire to help you.

You drag him toward you again - kissing him blindly. The rolling beat of please please please spouted in a rush against his moving lips. You’re delirious. In love. Outmatched by everything he is and you need him like you need your bones - your lungs and heart.

“I know,” he hushes you. “I know.”

His cock nudges against your entrance. It is a heavy, blunt push as he guides himself into your wet heat inch by inch before sinking deep in one, long stroke. You gasp against his mouth. It is raw and bruising as he roots himself in the slick clutch of your sex. There is always pain - a bright sting that dilutes with every snap and saw of his hips as he begins to move. He is not careful now. He is anything, but that. His pace is punishing though he keeps his hand behind your skull to cushion it as every rut drives you up the wall. He wants you to understand. He wants to make you only see him - feel him. Your body wraps around his - your insides molding to the heavy length of his cock that seems to punch against the furthest piece of your core.

“Focus on me,” he quietly urges. “Only me, my love.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. There is only him. There is only the sound of his grunts and his groans and his wet skin slapping against yours.

The pain and the worry all dissolves into a delicious ache concentrated on where you are connected. It blinds and deafens you. You cling to him tighter as he whispers dirty frantic word into your ear.

Do you like it like this? Do you need it? Look at you. Your cunt is barely able to keep me in there. You’re doing so well - trying so hard. My gorgeous girl. I’d beg for it. I’d beg you on my knees.

[werewolf-femboy-maid]

Ok ok random rant so I was raided catholic and you must be like "wtf what does that have to do with atsutodo" and I reply...

Very sad times... I was sheltered and just believed that LGBT is wrong, and I was so conflicted because I didn't want to just not talk to someone or interact in a way that didn't feel genuine to how I felt. And often I would look up ships on Tumblr and see a bunch of gay ships

And like I was like oh cool but I can't participate because then I'm sending myself to hell and risking the same outcome for those I interact with. So yeah that kind of mindset is a whole nother therapy session of its own

But yeah years later I'm an agnostic little bird and I am myself and talk to whoever I want and ship whoever I want

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[buttercupbuck]

listen, whether buck gets hit by a car or not, we know for a fact that he will at the least ALMOST get hit by a car and that is *absolutely* enough of a reason for eddie to freak the fuck out and come to certain understandings and realizations about his feelings for buck. AND, to add to this, since eddie has been going to therapy and learning to talk about his feelings and fears, it makes so much sense for him to open up and let those feelings out rather than hold them in and bottle them up like has been doing. ALSO, ALSO. It just occurred to me that eddie has reconciled with (or begun the process of reconciliation in some cases) with a lot of his fears (losing people he served with and saved, his time serving in general, his relationship with his dad and how he was raised, getting shot), but one thing he hasn’t truly dealt with or touched on is why his relationship with Ana didn’t work. In so many ways she was “perfect” (we’ll ignore how awkward their relationship actually was lmao) according to eddie and he tried so hard to make that work (why???) but just couldn’t (why???). His relationship with Ana, someone who was so good with Chris, who was fairly good to eddie (making those salads and bringing them to the fire station blah blah), was so nerve wracking and suffocating for eddie that his body had an adverse physical reaction to the idea of ana being his wife and a mother figure for chris and it wasn’t because Ana was a bad person, or a mean person, or even an overly clingy person or whatever. so what was the reason edumundo? while everything else was touched to some extent in and out of his therapy sessions, this is one of those things that wasn’t and I feel like it has to be in some way and buck almost getting hurt needs to get us there. thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Plz expand with your thoughts <3

yessss exactly. he's started the work of addressing his ptsd but there's still the lingering ana-panic attacks-shooting-buck of it all that he hasn't really unpacked. and i don't really see a world in which they don't circle back to that, because his panic attacks initially being triggered by his relationship with ana was truly Such a choice when they could've just set up this storyline for him with triggers more commonly and easily associated with ptsd, like loud noises, etc. and then yeah like you said, when they do come back to this, i definitely think that he's in a place where he would be more willing to open that box and reckon with it than he had been before

because like, idk. it would just be So good and make so much sense? he got shot and reached out for buck as he bled out then opened up to him about something he had been keeping to himself for a year at that point but truly mostly for buck's sake, so for buck to get hurt (or at least even for eddie to think buck gets hurt) and for eddie to fully let himself lean into and acknowledge his feelings for buck because he knows that time is short and because he's at a place where he can let himself have those things? yeah.......yeah

[harketspetter]

Midnight Thoughts: How does it feel to listen to Wild Seed after a massive burnout at work, fever, mental breakdown and many..many therapy sessions?

I feel thankful for my soul that I have discovered a gem of a person.

I have started to resonate more with his solo work in 1995, due to the fact that.. this is Morten Harket, not as a celebrity or a pop star but as an artist.

What are artists? Someone who excels in making art...?

Wikipedia tells me, Art is a creative activity that expresses imaginative or technical skill. Art is a diverse range of human activities in creating visual, performing subjects, and expressing the author's imaginative mind.

Art is probably the most human thing to exist. When someone creates something, solely to express themselves. It is beautiful to know that we have a capability to do that.

Wild Seed is an album that makes me feel that, it's okay to feel confused, upset and vulnerable.

Like humans, it is vulnerable, imperfect and...it is raw, emotional and beautiful.

Like art.

Isn't that what humans do? To connect with each other...

Calling him an artist feels more real ,more human.

This album (and Letter From Egypt) felt like it wasn't made to bring bucks. It was like an art piece, left for the audience to decide if they feel connected with it.

And, well...since I'm here, talking about it... I genuinely felt this album was my thing.

Dear Morten, you do you...my love.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[twstedtales]

May i request some Crowley slander headcanons?

Sorry making fun of him it's my favourite activity gwksgsksbsk

Omg...Athy never thought she would get this kind of request but it's so funny and she supposed that the headmaster deserved the verbal lashing that was about to ensue…ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ Oh, and by the way, this was written in the dialogue format headcanons! I hope this suffice as "crowley slandering" to you @dexpairs-blog （ ；´Д｀）

Characters :: Crowley, Gender Neutral Reader

TW :: Cursing and if slandering is a tw...but I guess in a funny way?

𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯, 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩 ...

"I'm tired of the headmaster being so irresponsible and escaping his duties and being all that gracious bullshit he always talks about and...."

"Why is he always dumping his duties on me? Can't he see that I'm too busy putting those three idiots I call my friends in their collars and leashes?" 

"When I asked him to freakin hire a counselor to save his own student's sanity, can't you believed he replied to me that 'aReN't YoU dOiNg SuCh a SmAsHiNg jOb aLrEaDy?'"

"For all that gracious crap he spit out, I can't believe someone was even more stingy than my father and mother combined! Did he even know how much Grim eats? How many tuna cans that Monster demanded from me was enough for groceries for two days!"

"Anyway, yeah, I want to throw a chair at him, or pour vinegar on his wild game meat dishes, or maybe smash his mask under the soles of the second-hand shoes he gave me. Or maybe use his wHiP oF lOvE at him-by the way, the name of that is so ridiculous I can't even laugh at it."

"Maybe by doing so, that bastard Crow will finally understand how I feel when dealing with all those Overblots and having therapy sessions with his students."

"Am I angry? Oh, no, not at all! I am very calm right now. It's just that the headmaster left me alone to deal with something again. Guess what, I can't say no because he told me 'I wiLL rAiSe yOuR aLlOwAnCe' and who was the idiot who believed him for the umpteeth time?"

"Yes, it was me."

"Not crying, not at all."

"It was really a good thing that I can't Overblot because believe me, if I do, the cause will be the headmaster himself and I swear...I swear to the moon and back and to all the saints, gods, goddesses, buddhas, or whatever entities they worshiped here in Twisted Wonderland...I swear that the bastard Crow will be the first person to taste my wrath."

"Te-hee…"

"Thank you for coming to my ted talk."

Bonus ::

"By the way, while I admit that Crowley looks handsome and tall, but look, he looked like one of those super dramatic villains in soap operas my grandmother used to watch."

"That dramatic drop of his cape in his shoulders is making me cringe."

"But the million Madols question was...just how many birds did he kill for those feathers?"