#go find a better outlet. go the fuck to therapy
Text
this is exactly what im talking about btw, baeddels harassing trans men but trans men are expected not only to shut up and take it but not do anything in turn. just like a specific brand of abuse on the tip of my tongue
like waow i guess im OpPrEsSiNg you for telling you its bad to call a whole group of people slurs as insults and being a misgendering and transphobic piece of garbage.
why cant we make 'theymab' a thing? oh yeah because its acceptable to abuse a trans person under the pretense of their agab if you see them as a woman but not if you're seen as a man. huh. i wonder what that reminds me of.
#wtf was the goal of that hate comment. stop#anyway to make 1 thing clear if you want to harass people and act patriarchal i really do not care ab how Most Oppressed you are#if you want not to feel like a man maybe stop degrading women and even calling people who arent women that so you can degrade them#like imagine being racist and crying about racism?? no one cares bro you are the asshole#i should not have to tolerate harassment because you feel that you deserve and still chase after the same pariarchal space that cis men have#because you want all the power to abuse inherent to being a cis man at the same time as saying you dont want to be seen as one#you could say its properly transmisogynistic to not let you abuse people for percieved womanhood even a LITTLE#how dare they? this was your birthright#i dont believe in karma but i believe you deserve to get what you give on some level#baeddels are clinging so hard to the conventions of toxic masculinity#and u have to stay quiet about it and try to reword that glaring fact bc its Misgendering#i am not the one running around trying so hard to be transphobic and misogynistic to vulnerable ppl#also yall act like oppression is always gonna align with your identity. its not thats the point.#but just bc you start experiencing misogyny for the first time does not mean you need to level it at transmasculine people#go find a better outlet. go the fuck to therapy#we are not your punching bag
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
everyone is fucking but no one is horny
one of my twitter friends recently said that if she could order up a fic it would be a story written by someone who has only ever read the classics, 1.5 star trek novelizations, and their mother's romance novels from 1970, written about two people are so out of their minds horny for each other it causes them to make the absolute worst choices anyone's ever made.
and i almost lost my mind laughing because i do know exactly what she means. there is a weird vibe i can sometimes sense within the first few paragraphs a fic that really bums me out. it's almost like i can tell the author is thinking way too much about what i'm thinking about their id and it's suddenly like we're all suddenly wondering how riding a bicycle works when we're mid-ride. when you start worrying too much audience interpretation or how a fic is going to do or play or ugh marketability, it genuinely adds some weird self-conscious distance to whatever you're doing. and it's the pits from the reader side because it removes so much horniness from your story even if the idea you have is genuinely good! i know this is not a niche complaint--you find it literally everywhere as every sector of the creative internet gets #content-ed and people can't escape the stats of how any given creative outlet does.
but god there's literally nothing better than sitting down and reading some freaknasty person's art where they do not give a single shit if you like it. they had something to say and my god they were gonna say it. i've accidentally acquired so many kinks by clicking on a story where someone took me on the most insane ride of my life and i thrilled about it. i don't wanna read about polite normal regular love. i don't wanna read about people using therapy-speak on each other. i wanna read about two people feeling the biggest craziest feelings of their entire life and they cannot do anything about it except bang it out. what else are we doing here? if they're not fucking down an entire house, well jed i don't even wanna read it.
14K notes
·
View notes
Text
Retail Therapy // Dabi x f!reader x Shigaraki (18+)
Synopsis: Working as a sales assistant in a high end sneaker shop is boring. But you're about to be taught otherwise.
Warnings: noncon/dubcon, degradation, humiliation, vaginal and oral sex, illegal recording, mentions of crimes, ableist remarks (not from reader), harassment, dumbification
A/N: idk how I thought of LoV as streamers (but not like gamers). Thank you to the anon who approved:)
Another boring day at work. But honestly, what were you expecting?
You didn’t know anyone who had fun working in retail. Not that this would be your job forever, as you planned on quitting and you know, try something else. Dropping out of college may have not been a smart move but you were confident that you’d find your path, somewhere, sometime. The store was never busy, the pricing and interior design repelling most passers-by and only attracting a couple influencer kids (you often laughed at the term) accompanied by their rich parents or a few unknown athletes in an effort to buy designer and make a better name for themselves. High end clients never showed up in person, they had no reason to, no one shopped at boutiques anymore, all the more sneaker ones.
You would often kill time by watching stuff online (who didn’t), looking at the latest socialite news in various media outlets, the world was going downhill, you thought, as you absentmindedly sipped from your water bottle, articles writing about villains, social pariahs, as they’d branded them, parading power by killing innocent civilians ‘for the fun of it’.
Your thoughts were interrupted when two shadows at the door caused you to look up. Customers? No way. Your heart stopped for a second thinking to yourself what kind of a twisted game of fate this was, as both walked through the door. Who didn’t fucking know them, Dabi and his subordinate, the man he had on a leash even though he was the supposed boss, Shigaraki Tomura. What the fuck where they doing here?
The taller man, which you knew was Dabi, wore a dark blue jacket with its collars ripped and matching pants that cut off above his ankles while his patched purple skin stood out. Surgically attached staples (or where these piercings?) moved when he smiled. Despite the menacing appearance, you had to admit he looked quite.. elegant? His shorter companion didn't fail to catch your eye either, a hood pulled low over his face wearing a miserable plain outfit. Under other circumstances, you’d throw pathetic guys like them in a second out the establishment, the store wasn’t a charity but you quickly reconsidered once you remembered the recent streaming they made. Shigaraki filmed Dabi burning up a whole forest just to kill some time as they laughed. Problem was they had accidentally murdered some poor people on a picnic, who they’d later find and film, joking about how ‘today was not the day for a picnic, guys’. The two guys would livestream the whole thing on various platforms, other times they’d upload it later on a channel they owned under an alias, where perverse comments encouraged and gave them both views. They obviously had a clear immoral viewpoint on heroes (they despised the filth society had created on false pretense) and never failed to shout it even louder.
‘’Hello, sweetheart.’’ Dabi greeted you, approaching the register. His loyal dog followed close, hands in his pockets and a sly smile.
‘’Me and my..friend would like to check out a few shoes today, we’re feeling generous.’’ he continued.
You regained composure and stammered a ‘’y-yes, sure’’ as they looked at you, Dabi's eyes diverting to look at your work uniform, a blazer with exposed bust and a tight pencil skirt (yeah yeah you knew this was a high end sneaker store but rules were rules and you had to attract the filthy rich men somehow – manager's words, not yours).
‘’W-what would you guys like to see?’’ you were stammered, the proximity not helping.
‘’Sweetie got a speech impediment?’’ Shigaraki said directly to your face before Dabi interrupted.
‘’Don’t listen to this asshole, he isn’t getting any so he’s always pissed off.’’ to which the first scowled but remained silent.
Dabi seemed.. kind? You thought as you looked at him and shyly moved to the display shelves.
‘’S-so, could you guys tell me what you’re looking for exactly?’’ You couldn’t believe these two had to come to your place for fucking shoes, somehow the thought of villains having to buy clothes had never really crossed your mind.
‘’We don’t fucking care, sweetheart’’ Dabi said looking directly at your fluttering from anxiety chest and eyeing your tits. Such a pervert, thinking you wouldn’t notice.
The whole time Shigaraki was on his phone, which he held in a bizzare way, it was known his quirk involved his hands but you never bothered to care, both these guys were murderous and you possessed no ‘quirk’ whatsoever so it really wouldn’t matter if it came down to physical altercations.
‘’We have t-these ones’’ you lifted your arm up to show Dabi a new pair you got in last week as his eyes traveled to your bent ass, skirt accentuating the curves even more, as he smirked to himself.
‘’T-they collaborated two brands for this.’’ you murmured, not sure he heard you. His presence made you anxious, you knew what he was capable of and definitely wanted to live another day.
‘’Oh yeah?’’ Dabi said. ‘’How much do these cost? They’re fucking ugly.’’
You opened your mouth to retort but settled with a ‘’T-two grand.’’ which came off unsure and hesitant.
‘’These are dead. Two grand for these abominations? Hey Shiggy, come look!’’ he told the man who had been too consumed with his phone to listen to the conversation.
‘’Look at that shit man, can you believe trash heroes buy that for two grand?’’ he asked as the latter lifted his gaze.
‘’Yeah I really don’t give a fuck, buy your shit and go, I have content to upload.’’
‘’Please excuse him, baby, he’s just a weirdo who gets off on livestreaming the people he decays, don’t worry we won’t take long.’’
Decaying? Livestreams? And why did he call you baby? These guys had to be joking, they were openly talking about murdering people for fun and you suddenly felt sick, your stomach with its contents turned over.
You had been silent, looking at them in horror, while Dabi broke the silence.
‘’Awwh, c’mon now, I’ll be nice. I think I might like these.’’ he said and pointed to a pair of black plain sneakers, they’d suit him, you thought despite the predicament.
You must’ve not reacted at all so he spoke again:
‘’Are you slow, sweetheart? I said I want to try these on, in 15’’ in a tone that made you immediately snap out of your thoughts and take a step back, he felt too close through your peripherals.
‘’L-let me check in the b-back for you guys’’ you apologetically mewled as you backtracked, you couldn’t even turn around but somehow got to the storage room. Fuck, you thought, of course he had to be wearing one of the largest freaking sizes, your store never brought these as no one ever bought them, what was he, a fucking giant? You were frantically searching through storage drawers and basically anything scattered you could find across the room but with no success, the pair was sold out (was a basic choice) and the sizing available was 13 and below. Shit, you cursed, as you were about to exit, when you saw two figures at the door startling you.
‘’What’s taking you so long? Lost in the hallway?’’ Dabi mocks, as Shigaraki snorts.
‘’I- i- couldn’t f-find the ones you’re looking for’’ you avert your eyes as you utter the words and Dabi’s smirk wavers as he stares at you.
‘’What does that mean, baby?’’ he asks, as he inches closer. ‘’You should be grateful I even chose this shitty store in the first place. It’s not enough you charge poor customers two grand for shoes I can find in the dumpster, now you’re telling me you don’t have the one pair I actually liked?’’ he raises his tone as he has you practically pinned against the door. You could’ve sworn the other guy's laughing but the room’s spinning and you try to take a deep breath.
‘’I- i’m sorry, guys, p-please let me try to find s-something else- for you, I-’’
‘’No, I think you can just shut the fuck up now, sweetheart. I don’t want excuses from that dumb mouth of yours’’ His words hurt as you try blinking your tears away, it used to help but not when they’re flooding your eyes like a stream anyway. You feel like this could actually be your end and matter of fact, anyone would know soon enough, as you’d probably also get livestreamed while they’re at it.
‘’Soo.. let me get this straight, you can’t find a proper excuse, you don’t have my shoes, you make me and Tomura wait while you're blabbering some bullshit and you scam stupid cunts for money. Does your boss know he’s hired the dumbest whore on the planet? Or do you fuck him to keep your job? Shame truly, all this for a shitty job, you reaally gotta be desperate.’’ he says and now the tears are well formed and fall from your eyes, as you sob– you literally sob, ashamed and hurt, these men didn't even know you and here they were throwing words around because of a pair of fucking shoes, you feel disgusting, useless and embarrassed, as you choke out some ‘’im s-sorry’’s and apologize profusely.
None of them seem to care about your tears or your stuffed nose, snots falling on your chest and staining the work blazer and Dabi continues in an amused tone.
‘’Stop crying, it's pathetic. Be of use instead, will you?’’ he sighs and signals to Shigaraki, who had been watching his phone intently the whole time, to come close.
‘’Tomura, how do you think bitches like her pay when they can’t satisfy my needs?’’ he asks the man, who contemplates for a second, kind of clueless and annoyed, interrupted from the live streaming of the rest of the LoV.
‘’Ugh.. I don't know, kill her? Listen man, we don’t have much time, we have to go meet the rest, so whatever you want to do, make it quick, I want to show my face in Toga’s stream, she has too many hot bitches watching her.’’ he sighs.
This man is out of his mind.
‘’Shiggy you fucking incel, it’s not like you’re going to fuck any of them, so how about you put your scrambled decayed brain to good use?’’ Dabi responds, all while you’re looking at the exchange horrified, where the fuck is this going?
‘’Well, since apparently I’m the smart one here, I’ll tell you both how this is gonna end up.’’ Dabi exhales, he sounds bored but his eyes gleam, he seems amused. ‘’You can’t offer me my shoes? You offer me your body, it’s not like you have anything else going on for you anyways. I fuck you and your little cunt and you’’ he turns his attention to Shigaraki, ‘’you’re going to film the whole fucking thing. Should grant you enough pussy, once I let you participate.’’
-
You want to scream, you really do. But there’s no words coming out, the phone’s too far away, the storage room hidden in plain sight and there’s two guys ganging up on you so what’s the only thing you do? Beg.
‘’P-please, Dabi, I can- I can help you find something else, we have-’’ you blabber but he cuts you off.
‘’Wow doll, surprised your dumb brain memorized the name. But I don’t blame you, I would too.’’ He’s inching closer to you as you backtrack, each step he takes leads you towards the end of the room, the closet touches your back as you’re pinned under him, touching the shelves.
‘’Got the camera on?’’ he tells Shigaraki, without turning to look at him, while the latter scoffs.
‘’Yeah, all set’’ he says, you can see him holding his phone and wait impatiently.
‘’Now’’ Dabi says, ‘’take that nasty shirt off, God, who dresses whores like you up? Tits out and everything for the public to see.’’ he says as your shaking hands start unbuttoning the work blazer, you had no shirt under it, it was a hot day and you hadn’t bothered, it’s not like customers were frequent.
He’s so close to you that your arms touch on his shirt as you slowly remove it and it falls down your shoulders, your bare tits in full display not just for him but for Shigaraki’s camera to film as well. His eyes rake you up and down, your cheeks stained with tears, your hair disheveled and flying all over as your tits bounce on your chest, rising and falling from anxiety. It’s swift, but you notice how his turquoise eyes widen– not a lot since they’re heavy lidded and half patched– to the sight of your tits.
‘’Fuck, these look nice’’ he comments as he brings up both hands to grope them while you gasp. His hands are not as cold as you expected, they’re large, slender and painted black as he starts circling his wrists while still at a fair distance. You moan and he smirks, Shigaraki switching spots to get a better angle.
Dabi closes the distance as his face is on yours, his breath on your mouth and you close your eyes when he laughs.
‘’Awhh, did you think I’d kiss you?’’ he says as you whimper frustrated but he continues ‘’Whores like you don’t deserve kisses.’’ He grabs your skirt with both hands and aggressively lowers it.
His words cut deep and you fight the urge to let another stream of tears fall down your face, you’d been called names in the past, but the way he talked intimidated and upset you way more than anyone before. Unbeknownst to him, your felt your panties soaked, his hands on your tits had turned you on, the thought of you being like this disgusted you. You really were pathetic and he’d soon find out.
His hands cupped your clothed cunt as you moaned ‘’D-dabi, please’’ to which a voice from the back laughed, you had completely forgotten about Shigaraki, the fact that he was watching (and filming) making you want to vomit.
‘’Baby, please shut the fuck up.’’ Dabi said as he moved to your left and continued ‘’Tomura, are you getting this?’’ but at this point Tomura was not only getting it but holding the phone with one hand while the other rubbed his hard-on.
Dabi moves your panties to the side, almost ripping them apart and pushes two fingers without warning in your lubricated cunt as you choke on a moan, his fingers feel so good around you and he knows how to move them inside, working his way deeper, while they’re already long.
‘’Man, you’re not gonna believe how wet she is.’’ he tells Tomura, who hums and strokes his clothed cock, his phone shaking in his hand.
You’re being moved up and down the shelves, his fingers penetrating your cunt with force as you feel the pressure in your core build up, you think about fucking yourself on his fingers, grinding up and down but he brings his other hand to your neck and chokes you unfortunately with precision, blocking your airway immediately: ‘’Don’t think you get to decide when to cum.’’ he says and he removes his stained hands, your arousal is brought to your face as he turns around and proudly shows the camera.
‘’Look at this retail cockwhore guys, pussy dripping from two men she couldn’t sell shoes to!’’ he brags and you crumble, embarrassed and desperate for an end.
‘’D-dabi, p-please don’t say that’’ you mewl and he looks at you with pity.
‘Say what? The fucking truth? Aren’t you a little cumslut, yes or no?’’
‘’I- I - am n-not-’’
‘’I said, are you or aren’t you my little cumslut, yes - or - no?’’ he orders as you notice something small and blue igniting from his fingertips and you freeze.
‘’Say it’’ he orders.
‘’I- i am’’ you brokenly murmur, but he needs all the words.
‘’You’re what?’’
‘’Y-your cumslut’’ you're shaking not wanting to believe this ordeal.
‘’I need the name too, camera's on you know’’. he says again, his patience wearing thin.
‘’I-i-am--Dabi’s cumslut’’ you look at the camera and with that he finally snaps, turning you over and grabbing you by the waist, his wet fingers touch your lower back, ass to his erection, as he spanks you and you flinch.
‘’Good, now let’s show everyone how good cumsluts like you get fucked’’ he smirks as he unzips his pants and brings his cock in between your folds.
The sensation is intoxicating, your heat and his pre leaking in between you while your hands are stretched to touch a shelf you can’t reach.
‘’Make sure you’re getting this’’ is all Dabi says before pushing his cock inside you as you let out a sharp cry, he’s too big and you can’t take him at once, a shooting pain up your entrance as he starts thrusting at a steady pace.
‘’P-please ‘s too much, s-slow d-down’’ you yell behind you but he doesn’t seem to be giving a fuck, as he grabs your hips harshly and pushes his angry cockhead with hatred all the way up inside you, your pussy stretching to accommodate him and his length and you thank his fingers for the prior lubrication and mess they made in your cunt.
‘’Fuuck, feels too good’’ he groans as he rams into you, you hear a sudden whimper and look around to see Shigaraki with his cock out, moving his fist up and down his length, a phone still on his hands while his eyes are fixated on the spectacle.
You don’t have time to beg for him to stop filming because Dabi’s slender fingers are toying with your clit, his cock ripping apart your insides and digits finding the bundle of nerves with ease. He teases your clit, not harshly, as his cock does that for you, but in light strokes, like he’s trying to tickle you and you feel yourself tremble, your cunt twitches on and he feels it as he groans ‘’Shit, you’re tight, too? Who would’ve expected it, huh’’ as Shigaraki is starting his commentary on camera.
‘’Take a look guys, this is probably the biggest cockwhore we’ve seen, look closer!, getting her loose cunt fucked like that.’’ while Dabi huffs, skin slapping sounds reverberate through the small room, as he continues his pace, cock disappearing in between your folds.
‘’Man, shut the fuck up.’’ he tells the guy behind him, ‘’her pussy’s tight as shit..or maybe I just have a big cock, unlike your incel ass.’’ he says and you moan, he’s becoming harsher, his cruel words only cause more arousal, you can’t deny the pleasure he’s giving you, each time he belittles you or Shigaraki for the matter. You feel yourself tense around his length and while you can’t see him, you imagine him drinking in your desperate arched back, frustrated whines and pathetic attempts to sink down on his cock, even though you know damn well he’s the one setting the pace.
‘’Hey, Shiggy..’’ Dabi groans, ‘’want me to let the whore fuck herself on my cock? She seems so eager.’’ he tells Tomura, who at this point is solely focused on your ass sinking up and down Dabi’s cock.
‘’S-sure’’ he breathes out, too horny to care.
Dabi stops moving, cock hard and still inside you– stretching out your cunt regardless, as you pant frustrated. You’d been so close and he stopped once again. Fuck it, you think, you need to get your release somehow.
You take a deep breath and start your tantalizing moves with his length throbbing in your walls, you move and grind your hips back and forth as Dabi hisses, his hands dig in your ass, a pain from a metal on your hips, you’d definitely have marks tomorrow but it feels too good and he lets you, which surprises you.
‘’D-dabi, is she good?’’ a voice calls from behind but Dabi doesn’t answer, he just lets you do your work as you increase your pace, your legs are about to fail you but you raise yourself up and grip whatever you can find in front of you as chokes escape your mouth. You think you might make yourself cum and he must be on the verge too, because he grabs you by the hair and shoves his cock all the way up your cunt, leaving you breathless as he spits a ‘’enough’’ and starts drilling himself inside at his own relentless pace.
You’re feeling numb beyond your core, repetitive thrusts and a heating sensation building up and you suddenly wish for his hands on your clit so you beg. Again.
‘’D-dabi, please, t-touch me there.’’
‘’Beggars can’t be choosers, baby.’’ he smirks, breaths ragged as he plunges his cock into you, the perfect motion for your pussy to clench and while he acted all tough, a hand is back on the swollen nub. He wants you to come undone, wants to be the one bringing you to such despair.
‘’D-dabi, I-im-hmn.. g-gonna–’’
Hairs sticking to your face, veins popping in your hands as you feel something in your stomach snap, blabber a bunch of incoherent words and release all over his cock, trembling — pussy pulsating all around him.
He’d been waiting for this, holding himself back, he could’ve come way sooner but wanted your orgasm on him so he lets himself go with a couple final thrusts. He moans out a ‘’f-fuck– agh–good cunt.. baby’’ before shooting his cum inside, long spurts that feel endless and the sensation is tingling, almost satisfying in a twisted way.
A voice interrupts the moment when both of you turn to look at Shigaraki, his angry cockhead in between half a fist and a frown on his face, he seems upset.
‘’Dabi, you idiot, I wanted her too.’’ he says and Dabi looks at you, fucked out and cum oozing from your hole. His cum.
‘’Well,’’ Dabi looks at you, ‘’would my favorite cumslut help a friend in need?’’ he smirks, ‘’just a quick blowjob, we don’t have all the time in the world’’ and you wordlessly nod, his gaze doesn’t leave room for debate.
‘’C-could I please have some water?’’ you mewl, throat dry from the sounds made earlier.
‘’Water?’’ Dabi laughs, ‘’nah, it’s too far away. Here, have this instead.’’ he says as he approaches you and swiftly moves his hands up your cunt, gathering the dripping mess and bringing it to your mouth. ‘’Open up’’ he orders and your eyes widen before you realize his load is lubricating your mouth, as he continues ‘’now, you can suck the incel off.’’ he says as Shigaraki is too impatient to retort and already has his cock poking at your mouth. He’s smaller but has nonetheless notable girth.
‘’Mhm..not gonna last long, man’’ he says to which Dabi snorts, not really giving a fuck. Indeed, once you're forced to take Tomura in your mouth and bob your head up and down a couple times, he pants and whines, cock jerking in your mouth, as a palm with the pinky lifted rests on your head pushing it down his pubes. Soon enough he comes, you can tell by the way he frantically tilts his hips up, so you remove your mouth in tears, this feels horrible. His load spurts all over the place, some lands on your hair and some on his shirt.
‘’Fuck!’’ he groans, ‘’my shirt’s stained, you whore.’’ his voice whiny as his eyes narrow. For the first time, he inflicts terror upon you, as his hand’s about to touch you when Dabi interrupts.
‘’Enough, she’ll give you another one, I’m sure shitty store sells some lame shirts, as far as I’ve seen.’’ to which Tomura sighs and removes his shirt. He throws it to your face and hisses.
‘’Gross, you can keep it, cumslut’’. You feel fucked out, tainted and humiliated when Dabi speaks up.
‘’Tomura–’’ There's still hope in your eyes, as you turn to him.
‘’She's about to put in on Depop you know.’’
Dabi and Tomura smirk and you wordlessly get up, something plummets inside (your heart?), as you wipe tears inside your elbow, the only clean body part of yours.
-
It’s been hours since the shift ended but you’re curled up in bed, bruised inside out and you can’t sleep, your mind blank, as you anxiously scratch your knees. You feel violated, you remember Dabi’s hands on you, cock and fingers inside you, Tomura’s shirt and his load in your hair, which was later thoroughly washed to the point clumps fell off, when a message appears on your phone.
It’s a message request from a @ touyat and it reads:
How’s my favorite cockwhore doing?
You suddenly feel very cold, how did they even find you? Your hands shaking as you pick up your phone to unlock it only for a new request to pop up:
@ shigarakitomura
1 attachment sent.
You take a deep breath as you contemplate.
Well, this could be worse, you try to think rationally. This could’ve been livestreamed.
#boku no hero academia#dabi x reader#shigaraki tomura x reader#touya todoroki#mha smut#bnha x reader#mha fanfiction#mha dabi#mha shigaraki#mha x reader#tw noncon#tw dubcon#tw degradation#tw dumbification#i honestly feel bad ngl#corollaservant
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crawling to the Finish | Part 3 | 7K
Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader
*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.
+18 ONLY | MDNI
Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Blood donation, scars, and fainting in this part. There is SMUT in this part. (Boobs, oral sex, and other back of the van stuff you might expect.)
Summary: You see the surgeon and spiral. Maybe Eddie can help.
A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.
---
“OK, Honey, if you could just twist your hips – here let me help you –“ the radiologist is twisting your hips in a way that immediately starts the ache. Your teeth are clenching at the pain. “Just hold that for a minute,” her purple scrubs are making a swishing sound as she steps behind the barrier, “Deep breath in, and hold it.”
Your expanded lungs burn along with the vibrating ache coming from hips and radiating up your waist and down your leg. These moments are torture - when you can’t get yourself into a position that alleviates the pain. It feels so personal, as if the radiologist is out to make the experience as painful as possible while moving around you with unhurried mundanity.
“Just four more positions and we’ll get you in to see Dr. Greene.” You withhold an angry scoff. Just 4 more, maybe we should see how you like it, you stupid bitch.
You say nothing, you do as your told, letting the rage simmer inside. You know you’ll find an outlet for it later.
The appointment goes exactly how you knew it would. Dr. Greene barely looks at your x rays, and tells you he’s ready to schedule a total hip replacement as soon as possible. Because your hip is well and truly fucked, and it needs to be burned with all of the other medical waste that comes out of the hospital.
The most surprising part of your trip to the surgeon is how fast they want to get you in for surgery. 2 weeks. It will barely be enough time to get the insurance preapproval in place. It’s an indication that things are as bad as they feel. Because sometimes you feel pathetic. You look in the mirror and see your dark circles, hollowed cheeks, blood drained face and think you should be able to handle this better. No one else in your life has to live like this, why are you so broken?
Broken. Broken. Broken. Empty. Tired. Angry. The building frustration is beginning to simmer inside, and you know it’s going to be roiling in no time, as your mom starts audibly listing everything that needs to happen in the next few weeks to be ready for the cutting through layers of skin and fat, and sawing away at your femur.
“… We have to make sure the school is on board with keeping you on track for graduation.” You’ve been trying to tune her out, avoid a stupid argument, “Do you think you can talk to your teachers about getting together absent work for you?”
“Uh-huh” Your mom’s rusty old Civic is bumping it’s way on to the Hawkins’ exit ramp, but your mind is gone to another place. It’s already laying in a hospital bed holding onto a morphine pump, feeling dizzy and nauseous. It’s in physical therapy, biting your lip so hard with anger that you taste blood. It’s in the operating room with the smell of latex taking over every sense as you breath in the “happy gas” that makes you feel detached from your body. You can’t think about school. Not now.
You pass Hawkins High on your way back to your little house, and your mom gives your hand a squeeze. You’re too numb to care about the intrusion of personal space. You can feel yourself pulling away, building up the walls you know you’ll need to protect yourself from everyone around you for the next month. It’s too hard. Disappointment on top of the pain is too much. Distance. Distance. Distance.
---
“Sweetie, Eddie’s on the phone for you.” The clock reads 3:30, and you knew when the phone rang who it would be.
“Tell him I’m asleep.” You don’t wait for her to answer, you roll your back to her and cling to your Pillow Pet, closing your eyes to the world. You imagine being wrapped up in Eddie’s arms right now while he combs his fingers through your hair and whispers that “it’s ok, you’re ok” and you feel hot tears stinging your eyes. No, you don’t want him here for this part. It’s too dark for him here.
You sleep on through, the weight of the upcoming days too much for you. You let it push you deep into the recliner and dream about – what was it? A tornado you think, tearing through the house and scattering the pieces of your life all over the front yard. You get caught in it, and you can feel the force of the thing tearing at your body, pulling you apart limb by limb. The sound of your own scream wakes you up. You find yourself whole, but your leg is throbbing with pain. You had slept too long, so you change your position, moving cautiously. The clock reads 7, and you just want to sleep through the next two weeks, let it be over.
---
You eat lasagna wordlessly while your mom fills the silence. This is how it goes. She can’t bear the quiet. The guilt and annoyance you feel are always present, just eating away at you.
“I called your father to let him know about your surgery. He and Sun are going to be with me at the hospital.” Your father had left your mother a few years ago to be with one of his co-workers. For the most part, they kept you out of it, but you couldn’t be nice to his new wife. Since you turned 18, you’d stopped seeing him altogether.
“They don’t need to be there.” Your tone makes you cringe inwardly, but it’s impossible for you to not cop an attitude about this.
“Well, I want them there, and they want to be there. He’s your dad.” She tries so hard to make the situation ok for everyone. You’ve never seen her speak an angry word about them, even though she’s heard you say some truly awful things about them.
“Whatever. Fine. I’ll be too drugged up to notice anyway.” Your mind flashes to snippets of past post recovery scenes that never fully come into focus for you.
“Dr. Greene says you’ll only be in the hospital for 2 nights, isn’t that great? You’ll up and moving right away. I can’t believe it.” She’s been wholly unable to withhold her desperate hope for a positive result.
“Yeah? Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” No false hope for you.
“You’ve got to have a positive attitude about this. There’s absolutely no reason for you to think this will go badly.” She was right, of course, but you can’t live with that kind of disappointment anymore.
So, you sit quietly and eat while she details pre-op appointments, including a blood donation. Tomorrow morning, you would be late for school, making the drive out to the Red Cross clinic. Should you call Eddie and tell him? Yes, but you’re not going to. “I’m sleeping in my bed tonight. If Eddie calls, tell him I’m asleep.” Your mom just shakes her head and sighs.
He calls one more time that evening, and you can hear your mom whispering something to him over the line. You can’t find it in yourself to care. You imagine it’s something along the lines of, “sorry my daughter is a raging bitch, but we all have to live with it.” You hope she tells him you’ll be out in the morning so he doesn’t worry, but make no effort to makes sure she does.
Your stubbornness is unexplainable, even to yourself. You see the self-destructiveness in your behavior. You know you’re being unkind. You’re unreasonable. You want nothing more than to rest in the comfort of the people that you care about. You can’t. You’re too raw and the compassion chafes.
If he’s still around in a month and doesn’t hate you, assuming you’re not dead or irrevocably damaged from a failed procedure, you’ll make it up to him. You’ll make it up to everyone. They just need to let you be until then.
---
It goes poorly at the Red Cross. If there’s anything you’ve learned about your body over the years of disability is that it’s unpredictable and makes even the most simple things challenging. You’re borderline anemic, which ignites a thought in the back of your mind - it explains your irritability. Whether it’s a good decision or not, the phlebotomist has the go ahead from your surgeon to collect as much blood as possible anyway. It ends up being less than a half of a pint, and all you can do is hope it’s either not needed or enough if you do end up needing a transfusion.
When you get to school, you’re on the edge, and ready to absolutely lose it at the first provocation. Your mom had offered to take you home for the day, but in your stubbornness you refused.
“I thought that my education was the highest priority. Can’t possibly miss whatever wisdom Mr. Willis has to impart about Federalism today.” You’re being a bitch; you should go home. You’d eaten your cookies and drank your juice as directed. You wanted to go home, but for some reason, you wanted to needle at her more. Even if it ended up hurting you.
“Hey!” Your mom has had it with you, she’s stressed. She’s going through it with you, and she’s your only punching bag. “You need to get right, Girlie. I don’t care what you have to do, but this attitude isn’t helping anything. Knock it off with the angsty teenage bullshit for a second.”
You take a beat before responding, deciding whether to bite back or back down. This could turn into a full-blown screaming match if you wanted that, but you’re so tired. “Whatever. I’m fine. I’ll go to school.”
You both relent, tossing water on the fire rather than adding fuel. You can go to school, but she won’t let you drive. She asked if Eddie could drive you home. She has an appointment later. You bite back what you want to say, which is that you’d rather just walk home. You just tell her that, “sure, no problem. I’ll ask Eddie to take me home even though it would just be easier if I could drive myself.” Your mom practically growls at you in response.
---
Sometimes, punishing yourself felt right. That’s what you’re doing right now. Letting yourself be tortured by Mr. Willis rather than taking a break. Your life is full of breaks. Maybe it’s just the vague nausea from giving blood, but Mr. Willis’ classroom is extra rank today. You’re feeling lightheaded, and you will the feeling away. Most of the time your teachers remind you to leave your classes early, but Mr. Willis never does, and today you forget. Your brain is fogged over, and the harsh ringing of the bell jolts you in your seat.
You brought your crutches, you’ll use them as a walking aid through the school. The thought of free walking or relying on a cane until your surgery is exhausting, so you don’t think about it. You use the tools you have. You’re throwing your bag over your shoulders when you realize that Eddie didn’t come to help you. You shake your confused head, because why would he come to help if he didn’t even know you were back at school yet. You feel yourself slumping a little more than was normal, and the cacophony in the hallway is making your head spin. You feel a whooshing moving between your ears and know what’s about to happen, but there are too many people around for you to get low to the ground. You reach out to grab any arm close to you as your vision fades to black, back pushed against the lockers to avoid knocking your head on the hard linoleum when you hit the ground.
“…the nurse. She’ll be ok, just needs something to eat.” A familiar voice is bringing you back, but your eyelids are still heavy. You can feel cold sweat on your brow, and a deep sense of shame for something. You open your eyes and see a shaggy headed boy. His face comes into focus, and you know it’s Mike Wheeler, and he looks like he might piss himself. You force your arm up to wave so he knows you’re and doesn’t go running off to call for an ambulance or anything. The person speaking is Dustin, and he’s clearly trying to calm Mike down.
“See, she’s ok.” Dustin’s face comes into focus. He’s concerned, but not freaking out. He puts his hand on your arm where the bandage from giving blood is. “She must have given blood or something. Y/n, when was the last time you ate anything?”
“They gave me cookies.” You choke it out, but speaking has the effect of rousing you further, and you suddenly realize you just passed out in the hallway between classes. Oh good, more weirdo behavior from the cripple. “Oh, shit, who saw?”
The boys exchange a look, which tells you everything, and you decide to let it go. “Whatever, help me up. Let’s go eat lunch.” You’re reaching out for them to help you up. You’re wobbly, and lightheaded, but determined. “Don’t look at me like that, I just need to eat. Help me to the table and get me some food.”
They do as you ask, despite the fact that they clearly think you should be heading to the nurse’s station before heading back to your own home. If you leave now, your body wins, and you’re not letting it happen. You’ll see Eddie at lunch, and he’ll help you for the rest of the day. Even if you don’t deserve it.
---
The boys have their arms around you, Mike is carrying your crutches, Dustin your bookbag. Eddie sees the three of you approaching and jumps out of his chair at the end of the cafeteria table and bounds over to you. His face is low to look into your eyes. “I’m ok, Eddie. Help me to the table.” Eddie takes over, shooing the boys away to get your lunch.
“What happened?” You’re trying to ignore the stares and whispers from the tables you pass on the way to the Hellfire table. Half of the school must have seen you hit the ground and not even stopped to make sure you were ok.
“I got a little woozy. Gave blood this morning. Just need to eat.” Eddie eases you into a chair, and sits next to you, face still close trying to get a read on you. “Hey, can I ask you a favor?”
Eddie lets out a sharp bark of a laugh, “Uh, sure. What is it?” He reaches up to push your hair back from your face, and wipes some of the sweat from your forehead. “Jesus Christ, why don’t you let me take you to the nurse?”
You choose to ignore the question and give Eddie one of your own as Dustin sets a can of coke in front of you while Mike sneaks a tray of mystery loaf and *thank god* mashed potatoes. “Can you take me home after school? My mom wouldn’t let me drive because I gave blood earlier.” You see Eddie’s face slack in relief because at least there was a reason you face looked so wan.
“Of course, Ilene, I live to serve.” You pick up your fork with a shaking hand, and get to work on the food in front of you. Filling your stomach with anything that will help clear the fog and bring life back to your body. The coke does its job, that sugary goodness immediately perks up your mind.
“Hey, uh, I want to talk to you later too, if that’s ok?” You owe him that, at least.
His face is cautious, but he gives you a nod. Now that he’s sure you’re not going to keel over at the table, he resumes his lunch while keeping a hand firmly pressed on your knee. You allow it, for now at least.
---
It’s back to the old routine for the rest of the day, no chance of being caught up in the full hallways with Eddie as your guide. Even with your standoffishness, he’s still cracking jokes that only make himself laugh. He still gives your back a reassuring rub while you wait for your classes to start. He still gives you his cute little smile, the one that makes you feel warm all over. Being with him like this is enough to feel yourself being pulled out from the darkness, ever so gently.
When the last bell rings and you find yourself secured in the passenger seat of Eddie’s rust bucket van, you ask him “Hey, Ed, can we go somewhere for a little while and talk?” His brows scrunch together a bit, but he gives you a little smile and nods. When he turns the ignition, his radio blares to life, and you couldn’t be happier for the noise to fill your heavy brain. You close your eyes, the sound of Ozzy’s voice lulling you to sleep while Eddie tears through the parking lot.
When you feel the van roll to a stop, you peek through your cracked eyelids to see the sun reflecting prettily off of the surface of water. A hand is on your knee again, and you let your own drop down to cover it. Eddie.
“It’s pretty, Ed.” You’re eyes are still gazing out over the water while your mind is waking back up again. “Wanna sit outside?”
Eddie gives your knee a little pat and says, “I’ve got some blankets and a pillow in the back. Let me set up a little spot for you.”
“You’re so good to me, thanks Ed.” The sadness in your voice is unmissable, but Eddie doesn’t comment. He jumps out of the van, and you hear him rustle around for a few minutes, cursing under his breath. You’re smiling to yourself at the boy. You drag your heave body from its slouched position, a little bit painfully, and open the door to make your way back to witness whatever is happening behind your back.
“Wait, I’ll help you!” He’s calling to you when he hears the passenger door close shut. The commotion is even louder now, the sounds of cans and bags being tossed around.
You’re laughing hard enough to let out a loud snort, “Relax, bud, I think I can take a couple of steps on my own.” Truthfully, you’re dragging your leg behind you like the dead thing that it is, but it’s only a couple of steps.
It’s what you expect, Eddie is knee deep in fast food wrappers and soda cans, he’s just shoving them into a corner of the back of the van. But – there’s also a couple of blankets and pillows he’s laid out, so you climb your way up while he crouches with his arms out to help you in. “You find yourself sleeping in the back of your van a lot?”
“Uh, well, sometimes I sneak a nap in.” He gives a little sheepish shrug, and you know it’s probably a good spot for getting high. “So, what’s going on with you? You gonna talk to me or ignore me some more?”
You’ve got yourself position so that your back is pressed against the side of the van, and one of the pillows is resting under your knee to give your hip a break. “I’m getting my hip replaced in two weeks.” You get straight to the point. “I had to give blood this morning in case I end up needing a blood transfusion.”
“Holy shit, that’s good, right?” He’s sitting next to you now, knee knocking into yours. “Good as new.” He drops his head to rest on your shoulder and puts his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him.
“Yeah, good as new.” It’s a hope you whisper into the air of the van, and you find that you’re choking on a sob. It’s come out of nowhere. “Sorry.” You try to get the sadness out of your voice, and Eddie still nuzzles into you, not saying anything. “Maybe it’s better if we just go back to the way things were until after it’s over.”
The hand that he had at your side, rubbing comforting circles freezes for a beat, and you feel a heave exhale of breath at your neck. He doesn’t pull himself away from you, instead he squeezes you a little tighter and asks, “Why?”
You had expected him to be upset or surprised, but he’s neither of those things. He’s quiet and still letting his thumb brush against your side while he waits for your answer. He wants to know why, and you simply do not have the strength to lie or soften the truth for him in this moment.
“Because it’s going to be ugly, and I don’t want you to see it. And, I get mean, and I don’t want to lash out at you.” You think you’re done, but Eddie’s silence tells you he’s waiting to hear more. His nose is nuzzling into the crook of your neck in encouragement and it sends a warm zing through you. You can’t deny him. “I can’t handle the thought of you seeing all of that and deciding it’s too much for you. I’ve lost enough already.”
You think about Hannah, your best friend for years, who finally stopped visiting after your last surgery. She had, like all of your other friends, gotten tired of hearing your excuses for not being able to do the typical teenager shit. You never blamed any of them, but the pain of that kind of rejection on top of the already brutal physical pain is too much to go through again. And your ex. You had loved him so much it consumed you. You gave him everything you had, he had seen every piece of you, and threw it away. You couldn’t see Eddie doing that, but you never thought Drew would either, until he had.
Eddie doesn’t say anything for a while, he just holds you impossibly tighter and let’s the words sit between the two of you. You think that’s fine, because no matter what happens from here, you’ve told him the truth, and he’s listened. That’s more than most would do for a girl that is so broken she can’t even walk around the mall with her friends. You feel held by him, and more importantly, seen by him.
When Eddie finally decides to respond to you, it’s unhurried. His tone is calm, his voice steady and words thoughtful. His hands continue their work on your lower back drawing aimless patterns with his calloused fingers on the exposed skin. His mouth lets out a breath, like a gust of wind blowing through your hair. With his free hand, he taps your forehead, an indication that he wants you to look at him. What your eyes meet are his pretty chestnut ones, full of affection.
“I’m going to be honest with you because you’ve been honest with me, ok?” Your stomach sinks, but you nod your head anyway. He’s right, he heard what you had to say, you need to do the same for him. “The thought of seeing you in the hospital and in pain…” His eyes close as if imagining the sight and shakes his head a little to rid himself of the thought, “does not thrill me.”
You start to tense up at his words. He said he’d be honest, and he is, but maybe this is going to be more than you want to hear. You’re holding your breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop, Eddie still letting his hands wander on your skin. His attempts at grounding you are starting to fail, and you think he must know it, but he still takes his time.
“Don’t get lost, stay with me, I’m not done.” You exhale the breath you were holding onto and try to relax and trust him. He’s given you no reason to not trust him. “Why would I want to see someone I care about so much in that position? No, it scares the absolute shit out of me if I’m being honest.” His eyes are wide, head tilted to the side, and you know it’s true. He’s got real fear written all over his face, and for some reason you find that very reassuring.
He pulls you into his chest, letting you bury your face into him, and he’s dramatically rocking you back and forth without moving your hips. “But I know you don’t want to be there either. I’m sorry, Ilene, I really am, but it’s not something I think I can do.” The leather of his jacket is creaking with the effort of holding you to him, less comforting now, more like he’s trying to squeeze the life out of you. “Because when you get better, I’m gonna want to tickle the absolute shit out of you to hear you laugh until you scream.”
“Eddie, no!” You’re squirming under his grip, strong yet still somehow not painful. “Don’t you dare!” His hand is on the skin of your side, and you think he’s going to do it. He’s going to tickle you until you’re thrashing under him. You can see the evil look in his eye, even with your face still squished against his chest.
“Oh, Ilene, I wouldn’t dare do it now. Just know, I’m waiting for my chance.” He loosens his arms enough for you to wiggle and see his pretty face. You don’t know how he did it, but he changed the mood between the two of you so fast. And you think you don’t mind it. Because he’s true, and kind, and the most beautiful person you’ve met.
“My only concession is that if you really don’t want me at the hospital, I won’t go.” He looks serious, like he’s making sure you understand what he’s telling you. He has a finger pointed at your face, brow stern, and eyes narrowed, “but, only if you don’t want me there. If it’s because you want to spare me, don’t.”
You’re giggling subsides and you let out a little contented sigh. The strange loose feeling in your hip has never fully been relieved, and you start to feel some discomfort with the hard metal of the van bed underneath. You feel like you could come apart at any moment, just pieces of you falling away. You long to feel whole. Being with Eddie is the closest you come to feeling like a real person. A whole person. A person that has something to live for. You hate the thought of those feelings being because of a boy, but fuck if you can control how you feel.
“Fine. But I swear to god, if you decide you don’t like me after you see make a nurse cry, I will murder you as soon as I get my feet back under me.” He throws his head back in a laugh, but you grab his chin with your small hand and make him look at you, “Does it look like I’m joking, pretty boy?”
His eyes sparkle at you, his smile’s gone, and he looks like he has something to say. No, not say – his mouth is on yours in an instant. The way he moves you is fluid and fast. You go from sitting beside him to laying under him without even realizing it. You’re occupied with his mouth, his lips opening with your own, tongues moving together. Any pain you felt was gone, because all you could feel was a burning inside your gut for Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
“You think I would leave you, just because things are gonna get a little hard.” His mouth has travelled to your neck, and he’s breathing into your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” You’re completely pliant under his touch, and you feel yourself pulsing with desire.
You have no answer for him, your breath hitching with every pass of his lips on your neck. He finds the soft skin of the lobe of your ear and sucks it into his mouth. It’s pornographic, the sound that escapes your mouth. You were no virgin, but Eddie has you feeling like you’ve never been touched before in your life.
While his mouth works along your neck and ear, you find your hands threaded through his curls, fisting and pulling at his hair. The moaning response he gives has you whimper back. You want him. You want him now.
“Eddie, please. You can touch me.” It’s all the permission he needs, his hand moves from your waist and travels under your shirt to cup your breast. His thumb running across a nipple, separated by the thin cotton bra you’re wearing. This is the moment you realize you’re both wearing far too many clothes. You pull you sweater over your head and unhook your bra with ease, setting it on the floor of the van beside the two of you. Eddie is just watching you with amazement until you pull on his shirt, snapping him out of the trance he was in.
“I wanna feel you.” Your voice is a little desperate, and you’re willing your hips to stay still. The urge to rock them a little, seeking anything Eddie is willing to give to you, is intense. A hand tests the waters with your bare breast, a firm full grasp with a thumb skating across your pebbled nipple. His lips are pursed in a line, and he huffs out a puff of air through his nose.
His voice is thick, and it cracks when he finally opens his mouth to speak to you, still staring at your nakedness presented to him. “I – fuck. I don’t want to do anything that might hurt you.” His eyes are wild when he looks up to meet your own. You know you must look impossibly needy for him, your skin is on fire from his touch. “Seriously, are you trying to kill me?"
"You won’t hurt me, Ed. I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.” You’re begging, and it has an effect on him. He closes his eyes, probably trying to regain his composure without looking at the half-naked woman lying in front of him. You take the opportunity to sit up and yank on his jacket. He obliges, eyes still closed, letting you take off his vest and jacket, and then his t shirt.
“Eddie, we don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.” You can tell he’s doing battle with himself inside his mind, and you don’t want that. You want anything that happens between the two of you to be right, and it won’t be if he’s second guessing himself the whole time. If he’s terrified of what he could do to your body. There’s a deep sense of disappointment about that, anger – not at Eddie – but at your own body for betraying you yet again.
He snakes himself down so that his arm is wrapped under you, skin against skin. He’s so soft, it makes you wonder if he uses lotion. You trace the outline of a tattoo over his heart, a scary looking demon. His fingers are running along your collarbone, his head tucked into your neck.
“I’m sorry.” His soft words break your heart a little at the sadness in his tone. “I ruined this.” His hand drops as if he’s resigned, and you giggle a little.
“Ed, why are you being so dramatic right now? You’ve got me with my tits out in the back of your van.” The noise he makes in response is a mix of a laugh and a groan, but it has the desired effect. He brings his face out of hiding, his cheeks are burning, but he meets your gaze with a small smile.
“You’re really pretty, Ed.” You push his curls out of his face to see him better, and he meets your mouth in a kiss. Soft but with need, your tongues mingle while enjoying the feeling of your hands wandering across his soft skin.
It’s all kissing and light touching, fingers wandering bare skin. You have him tell you the stories of his tattoos. You love how animated he is when he tells you how he designed them himself, and from where he drew his inspiration. You can tell that he occasionally forgets that you’re laying there topless when his eyes make eye contact with your breasts. He looks surprised every time, and it makes you laugh every time.
And then, he sees it. You register his shock when he notices the angry red scar peeking up from the waist of your jeans. His hand goes to touch it, and you instinctively recoil.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I just – I didn’t expect to see a scar there.” You reach for your bra and shirt, hastily dressing yourself, suddenly reminded of how cold the air in the van feels. “Hey, uh, shit never mind, that’s stupid.” Eddie’s reaching for his own shirt shaking his head.
“What?” He’s got your curiosity piqued. You need to know what’s going on in his head.
“I feel like such an asshole, say no if you want.” You nod for him to continue, he’s got that adorable wide-eyed look on his face with his question, “Can I see it?”
“Oh! You want to see my scars?” You wrinkle your nose a little. You’re not ashamed of them, never have been. You wear them with pride, the story of your life etched on your skin permanently. Not unlike a tattoo, only you had no choice in the pattern and placement. “Yeah, you can see them.”
Without a second thought, you’re turning your body to lay on your side and unbuttoning your jeans. He helps you when he sees you struggle to push them down while in that awkward position. You’re facing away from him, hip facing up so he can see both scars.
“This might have been a mistake.” You can hear him shuffling behind you, quite obviously adjusting his pants. You can’t help but giggle a little at him. “You’re so fucking hot. I’m a fucking moron. I take it back, I’m ready to figure this out right now.”
“Eddie, stop, file it away for later, or whatever. My ass is freezing.” He sighs and you can see him out of the corner of your eye with his hands in the air, not knowing what to do with them. “For crying out loud, you can touch me. Just be very gentle. I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to.”
You brace yourself, not wanting to have any kind of reaction when his fingers finally touch your skin. You want him to explore at his own pace, you want him to know that his touch is welcome and wanted. His hand is more than gentle, you can barely feel him, the fine hairs of your outer thigh whispering at the sensation. When he’s sure you’re not going to recoil from his touch again, he allows his fingers to run along the long scar that runs down the outside of your leg, not touching the angry red skin, running along the side of it. You know you can still see the individual stitch marks there. His touch reaches a part of your leg that feels strange, a large nerve on that part of your leg was accidentally cut during your last surgery.
“You have two scars?” He’s not really asking, because it’s obvious that you do. The second scar runs from above your pelvis and down at an angle towards the band of your underwear. It dips down to a place he can’t fully see, stopping right at the spot where your pubic hair begins. You wait and let him decide what he wants to do, prepared to let him lower your underwear to get a complete view of the path the scalpel traveled. You’ve got yourself so worked up over the thought of him dipping below your panties, you’re completely unprepared for what he does next. You’ve got your eyes squeezed shut, concentrating on staying calm, when you feel hot breath on you. His mouth meets the end of your long scar in a gentle kiss, and you can’t control the gasp that erupts from your mouth.
“I’m sorry, is this ok?” You can feel his words against your skin, and you feel your breathing quicken with excitement. It’s so intense, being seen in this way. So intimate having him this close.
“Yes, it’s ok.” You feel yourself twitching, completely unable to control the movement. You realize what the feeling is, and almost groan. You’re so turned on, you feel like you’re going to explode from just feeling his breath on you. Eddie hums to himself a little, letting his mouth travel back along line scarred on your flesh while his hand gently pulls back on the waist band of your underwear to peak down and see the rest of the smaller scar. He’s so close to your heat, there’s no way he can’t smell your arousal, but he continues to gently brush his lips against you.
“Eddie, I – mmm – you have to stop. I’m sorry.” You can’t hide the neediness in your voice, it’s embarrassing, but you can’t let him keep this up any longer if he’s not willing to give you relief.
“Oh, pretty girl, you smell so sweet, and your skin is so soft.” His nose is nuzzling below your belly button, “Will you let me taste you?” Your body is shaking with anticipation, so close to the edge and he hasn’t even touched you at your center.
You manage to squeak out a “please” and that’s good enough for him. He’s got on your back, pants pulled off in that smooth way he has. Quick and fluid movements while supporting you and keeping you in a comfortable position. He wastes no time, sneaking your underwear down past your knees.
“Show me where to put my hands.” He’s so quiet, you barely hear him. You place on hand on your good hip to keep you stable, the other under you lower back to avoid any painful pressure on your broken side. His mouth descends on your mound, and he noses around the coarse hair breathing you in.
It takes no time at all, his tongue works on your swollen and sensitive button. He lets out quiet needy moans as he licks at you. A guttural groan rips through you, so low you don’t even recognize the sound of your own voice. And then he sucks, and then it’s over. He’s got his lips sealed tightly around your bud. You’ve been sitting on the edge, he has you so worked up from his gentle exploration of your scars. Your high rips through you in a flash, so fast. His mouth has barely been on you for more than a couple of seconds. You can’t even be embarrassed when you can hear the effect your waves of pleasure are having on Eddie. He is beside himself, groaning and holding your hips still. You notice he’s rocking his hips against the floor of the van, and it sends a new wave of pleasure through you.
When you come back down to earth, you find Eddie breathing heavily, his head resting on your thigh. You run your hand in his hair, and he hums a little. “Uh, I gotta tell you something, please don’t laugh.” His voice is croaky and shy.
“What’s the matter, Ed?” You already know, but you ask anyway.
“I came in my pants.” His mouth is muffled in your skin. You’re still running your fingers in his hair, and you rumble out a low laugh. It’s not a mean laugh, it’s knowing.
“Oh, Baby, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I don’t feel any pain. Fuck, that was good.” You grip his hair gently, giving it a little affection tug. He groans a little and works his way up to you after he pulls your underwear and pants back up over your hips. He gives the small line of scar peaking out from the waist of your jeans one final kiss.
You both work to get yourself together, Eddie brushes at the front of his pants and shakes his head. It’s a lost cause, he needs to change. He’s helping you out of the back of the van, it’s slow, joints stiff from being laid out on the hard surface for so long. You don’t care. The afterglow of your orgasm is still radiating through your body. You think about what the next few weeks will hold, and you know. This is when you know – Eddie will be there for you.
When he helps you up to sit in the passenger seat before taking you back to your house, you place your hands to hold his face. His perfect face, still flushed from earlier, his kind eyes sparkle at you. He has a lopsided grin on his face, he’s still feeling goofy from his own high.
“Hey, Ed.” You stare at each other for a minute. He goes to pull away, and you shake your head a little before pulling him into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips, and you feel your core beat in response.
“You can visit me in the hospital if you want.”
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x disabled!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson smut#eddie munson stranger things#disability in fanfiction
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING ⚠️⚠️⚠️
!!!SELF-HARM!!!
All right, I myself still experience this shit that has been with me for many years. So this blog is my outlet. When I was a teenager, I did self-harm, it's terrible, but I thought it was better than antidepressants, which left an emptiness inside. I really felt better, but it didn’t help my mental health in any way.
Please, if this is a painful topic for you, then just scroll down.
I need Leon, who will beat the shit out of me with a suplex 🤣 And then he will hug and regret. Sudden headcanon - Leon ALWAYS takes care of his beloved.
- self-harm is a thing of the past, but the scars on your skin are now forever with you
- Wide leather bracelets, long sleeves, closed dresses - cut marks should be hidden.
- Everyone deals with their own pain as best they can. If Leon prefers alcohol, then the old folding knife is still in your pocket.
- Leon finds out about your past "hobby" quite by accident.
- He will notice the cuts when you decide to spend the night with him.
- This surprised him unpleasantly, but no condemnation. Leon will run his thumb over the scars, trying to gently ask why did you do this and are you still going on?
- "I felt like a terrible person. This was my reset button. I needed to dispel this fog in my head."
-You probably won't notice, but Leon will be watching closely to see if you have any new scars.
- He will give you all the support he can, especially if you are in therapy. Leon understands how important this is!
- Your pocket knife has gone missing.
- "Princess, why do you need him? Do you want us to talk about what's bothering you? Maybe you want to take a walk? "
- Of course, the number of sharp objects was halved. He's not paranoid, but it's better that you don't have any temptation to hurt yourself. Leon is just worried but happy to see your sincere smile after his stupid joke.
- Don't feel bad for yourself. People can be pieces of shit, but they shouldn't be the reason for your tears and your pain.
- If Leon has the opportunity (we all know he has a fucking important job) he will remind you to take your medicine. Doesn't work or do you feel worse? We'll find another psychotherapist.
- The DSO still pays him well.
- When everything is fine with you, Leon will become more serene
- He kisses your wrists, always speaking kindly to you. Your head lies on his chest, and a blanket is tangled somewhere in his legs. Don't be ashamed of your past! He doesn't blame you for hurting yourself. Those who brought you to this are to blame.
- Sharp things are back in range... but your pocketknife remains missing.
- No need to ask him where he hid it. You will most likely never find it again.
- Leon is still watching you vigilantly as you cut food in the kitchen.
- "I'm not going to make myself hara-kiri!"
- Maybe I just like watching you cook."
- This is partly true. Just give him more time. Leon loves and trusts you, but he's calmer this way.
P.S. God save Leon S(exy) Kennedy!
#leon kennedy x reader#leon x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#comfort#selharm#resident evil x reader#headcanon#resident evil#lovers#angst#I love Leon Kennedy#comfortable Leon
350 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am extremely mentally fucked right now, so let's see how team tadpole handles their depressive episodes! TW, this will probably be super depressing to read.
Astarion: He thinks he hides it really well, and for the most part, he does. But his motivation for easy, everyday tasks and self care goes absolutely down the drain. You've seen the inside of his tent, you know how it goes. He tries to keep up the image of doing well, keep the smile, keep the jokes coming. He's terrified of people finding out what's underneath, and in hiding it, he feels like he has the upper hand. He doesn't, and he needs therapy. I'd also put money on him hypersexualizing himself for the validation and to feel like he was worth something. After all, Cazador beat it into him that that was all he was good for. Luring in pray with his body. - We also know that Astarion has nightmares, but I'd like to add to this with the reminder that Elves don't sleep. They trance. In the trance, they go over the memories of their past. It's how they keep up with such long lives and how they stay close to past lives as children (For those who dont know, elves don't measure age in maturity, but rather by distance to their past lives- Once an elf can no longer recall memories from their past life, they are considered an adult. They pick their adult name in celebration of the new person and consciousness that they now are). The fact that Astarion can remember nothing of his life prior to being turned by Cazador, nothing of his family, etc., Means that he is so deeply affected by Cazador that those memories are the only things he can see when he goes to rest at night. Every night, in perfect detail, he has to remember all of his worst trauma.
Karlach: Karlach is the sunshine character. She's sweet, and loud and bright with the biggest smile, but you also have to remember that she was a soldier. She was sold off to a literal demon and used as a science experiment essentially for the hell of it. She's not going to open up about what she's feeling immediately, and she's not going to seek help, either. She thinks she has to deal with it quietly and on her own, because since her parents died; that's what she's always had to do. Chin up, no tears, keep fighting. It's going to stress her out to the point where she starts smoking again, but she'll try to hide it or brush it off. Most importantly, she's going to be more focussed on not burdening those around her and trying to take care of you guys and protect you at the expense of her own mental health and physical safety. But her sorrows are noticeable. She can try to hide it, but everyone in camp knows. Everyone in camp is worried. Everyone can see when her eyes stop glimmering, when she stops dancing around in her tent when she can't sleep, when her bright laughter stops, and when she gets quiet. So quiet. She zones out, like she's in another realm entirely. She probably also has post traumatic stress from her time as a soldier, and it's going to weigh on her heavily in battle. Maybe she'll freeze up, have flashbacks, even potentially have small hallucinations now and again. It's going to take a lot of care and reassurance to get her to talk to you about it, but when she finally does, she'll probably have a complete meltdown with all the feelings she's been keeping inside.
Wyll: Wyll self isolates. He gets much quieter, and he probably isn't going to be too open to talking about it unless he's really close to you. He gets a little cold when talking to people, but he's good at resolving things in his head and the most likely to rationalize his feelings to make himself feel better. He also probably writes poetry, or even paints his feelings as a form of expressing his sorrows because he understands he needs some outlet so he isn't bottling everything up. He has the heart of an artist, and this is a hill I am prepared to die on.
Gale: He has a hard time talking when he's sad, and probably has difficulty making eye contact as well. He'd probably be more inclined to seek out comfort and vent than the rest of team tadpole, but that doesn't take away from the complexity of his emotions. He's angry, and sad, and feels so so shitty just about being who he is in general. He's fallen so far from where he once was, and for what? He'll do is best to rationalize, but his anxiety is going to push into paranoia, and rationalizing is going to turn into self loathing. He's going to try his best to be more useful, and show off, and earn the validation he craves because without that, what is he? He was a prodigy child. He used to be so, so great. Even the goddess of magic herself thought so. Now he's rotting away in a camp full of strangers and trying to re-learn level one spells. It's taking a toll on him, and it's noticeable to anyone willing to look.
Shadowheart: She's trying to pray. The goddess she has been devoted to all her life is the lady of loss. There is a great amount of sorrow in the way she worships, and in her suffering, she finds faith. She tells herself it's her next step to becoming a dark justiciar. Delving further into her faith and trusting in the dark depths of her soul, and her pain. All it ever truly does is make her hurt, though.
Lae'zel: Lae’zel is truly a specimen built on stoicism. If you ask her what's wrong, she will tell you but it will also be in such a way that you wonder if she's really processing all of her pain. The thing is, she's thinking about it. She has the emotional intelligence to understand the way she's feeling and how to fix it, but for some reason unknown to her, she can't. And that's what's going to stress her out and hurt her the most. She knows what theoretically should fix the pain, but it's not working the way that it should. She's going to wonder if it's something wrong with her, or the way she's going about it. She might get angry with other people more often, and try to project blame onto someone so that maybe she can find a way to resolve the way that it hurts. But she can't. She'll keep throwing temporary solutions and misplaced anger into the void until she finds something to distract from it. And maybe, after a lot of contemplation and positive outside help from the rest of team tadpole, she may find peace.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion#lae'zel#gale dekarios#karlach#wyll ravengard#shadowheart#team tadpole#angst#depressing shit#menatl health#trauma
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Darkness Declares Glory | Chapter 12 | S.R
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
A/N - this fic deals with some very dark themes such as drug use, self-harm and suicidal ideation. Please proceed with caution and Minors DNI. There is a reader insert but it is very Spencer-centric.
Chapter Summary - After a really good day, Spencer finds himself backsliding. Maggie suggests a new and unconventional coping mechanism but Spencer is sceptical.
Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader
Category - dark angst | smut | eventual happy ending.
Warnings - Spencer backslides, self-harm, blood, swearing, handjob, non consensual activities in a dream, talk of masturbation, Tara’s flashback, past drug use, withdrawals, vomiting, masturbation (male).
WC - 5k
Chapter 12 - Entropy
What goes up must come down. It was sometimes terrifying how quickly his moods could change. He’d had the best afternoon with you in the library and the two of you had dinner together in the dining hall. And for the first time since Spencer arrived at PIW, he felt something akin to normal.
Group therapy always put Spencer on edge but tonight it was worse than ever when Cedric made him talk more than he was comfortable doing.
And then PT had been more draining than usual and Nick suggested going back to two crutches which Spencer adamantly refused. By the time he got back to his room, all Spencer wanted was to shoot up.
Or failing that, hurt himself.
There had to be something in this goddamn room he could use to inflict pain on himself. There had to be some small oversight on the facilities part. Since his attack on the nurse he wasn’t allowed to keep his toothbrush in his room which he guessed was understandable if not frustrating.
He found himself staring at the light emanating from the small lamp on the nightstand until his eyes hurt and he couldn’t see straight. If only it burnt hot enough to hurt him…
He broke out of his stare off with the bulb and smiled to himself as he had an ephiany.
Light bulbs are made of glass, Reid…
He fumbled switching it off and moved the lampshade out of the way. When he wrapped his hand around the bulb it burnt slightly, but not enough. He managed to unscrew it and he was grinning to himself.
See, you’re still smart. Brain still works.
He hopped up from the bed to the desk where he slumped in the chair. He lined the bulb with the corner of the desk before raising it and letting it come crashing back down onto the edge of the wood. As he’d hoped, the bulb shattered in his hand, sending splinters of glass into his palm.
He rolled up the left sleeve of his sweater where his burns and picked skin were now almost healed. He emptied the glass from his hand onto the desk and picked out the biggest shard. With a large smile he took the shard to the soft flesh on his wrist.
He cut himself once, twice, three times and watched in awe as the blood trickled from the wounds, down his arm and pooled on the carpet.
I’m so fucking smart. How did I ever doubt that?
Four cuts. Five. Six and his hand was coated in blood too. Seven and eight and he started to feel relief. He stumbled back to his bed, sleeve still rolled up and bleeding over his sheets as he laid down on his back.
They’re gonna commit you for sure. This place will be a walk in the park compared to a padded cell.
The pain swelled up his arm but it was euphoric. It felt good to take back some control over his fucked up life. He closed his eyes with a dopey smile still on his lips.
His last coherent thought before he passed out was, fuck you, I win.
***
He was back in the swimming pool only he wasn’t wading through the calming water he remembered. The pool water was replaced by a heavier, slightly sticky substance that lapped around his waist. He raised his hands out of the liquid and inspected them. As expected, they were coated in red.
He was swimming in a pool of blood.
“You really need to find a better outlet.” The voice startled him and he looked up to see you sitting cross legged at the edge of the pool. “This isn’t healthy.”
“That’s rich coming from you. I saw your scars.” He scoffed.
“I didn’t say I knew of any healthier options.” You smirked playfully.
He waded closer to you through the viscous liquid until he reached the edge you were sitting on. He lifted his arms which were covered in blood and leant on the side of the pool.
“What else am I supposed to do?”
You reached out for him and entwined your fingers in his messy locks.
“I wish I had an answer for you.” You bowed your head to meet his and rested your foreheads together.
Your breath fanned across his face moments before he pressed his lips against yours. He wrapped his bloodied arms around you, holding you close. He deepened the kiss, closing his eyes and giving over to you entirely.
Somehow you were now in the pool, body flush against his. His hands wandered your body and he quickly discovered you were naked. So was he.
He pressed you back against the side of the pool as his hand wandered between your legs. But he didn’t find what he expected.
He suddenly pulled back from the kiss and George was leant against the pool side smiling at him.
“Why’d you stop?” He smirked.
“Where…why…what?” Spencer blinked, turning and looking around only to find he and George were the only ones here.
“Come here, Doctor Reid. I’ll make it better.” George pulled him closer and kissed him again, wrapping his arms around Spencer’s neck.
As the kiss deepened once more Spencer started to feel stubble brushing against his jaw and he pulled back again only to be staring into a set of deep brown eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Luke laughed, running his finger over Spencer’s cheek. “You don’t want me?”
“I…I…” what the fuck is happening?
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Reid.” Luke moaned as he spoke, hand wandering down Spencer’s bloody torso now.
“Where’s Y/N?”
“Don’t worry about her. I’m here now.” Luke drew him closer and their lips met once more.
When he felt a hand wrap around his shaft, it wasn’t large and calloused like he expected and the lips now trailing down his neck weren’t rough like they had been moments before. The hand started pumping him and he guided the head up from his neck.
“I missed you, Spencie.” Cat panted as she continued to stroke him.
He tried to move back from her grip around his cock but there was something behind him blocking his way.
“Stop. Don’t touch me!” He hissed at her.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, Spencie. It’s getting real old, real fast.”
“He makes everything so difficult.” George’s voice came from behind him as his arms snaked around Spencer’s waist.
“Stop fighting it.” Cat laughed as she quickened her pace and her lips found his neck again.
George pressed himself against Spencer from behind, his hands wandering his torso.
“You don’t always have to fight, Spencer.” Your voice came from the edge of the pool again where you were sitting next to Luke as the two of you watched Cat and George have their way with him.
“I don’t want this.” He whined. “I want you.”
“You can’t have me.” You shrugged.
Spencer tried to fight against the two bodies he was sandwiched between while you and Luke continued to look on. The blood was up to his chest now, rising rapidly.
“Please Y/N! Make them stop!” He whimpered. “Luke, do something!”
“All you have to do is open your eyes.” George whispered in his ear. “Open your eyes and it’ll all be over.”
“He doesn’t want it to be over though. That’s what scares him the most.” Cat laughed against his neck.
“No! No, I don't want this! I don’t want it. Open your eyes, Spencer! Open your fucking eyes!” He yelled to himself.
Just before the blood pool rose above his chin, the bodies disappeared. He was alone again. Alone and drowning in a pool of his own blood.
***
“Have you thought about masturbation?”
Spencer’s eyes shot up from where they'd been staring at his shoes in a daze. He’d said barely a handful of words in the past half hour, instead choosing to stare at his battered converse.
He’d been found covered in his own blood this morning by the nurse handing out medication. He’d been taken to the hospital wing by Doctor Sanderson, given a few stitches and been bandaged up.
He’d been given the talking to once again, like he was a small child who couldn’t keep his hand out of the cookie jar and not a grown man who had slashed his arm with a broken light bulb.
Maggie had tried asking him why and was met with small shrugs and responses such as “why not?” He was feeling particularly difficult today.
He must have misheard what she’d just said. He just must have.
“I’m sorry?” Spencer frowned at her.
“I said, have you ever thought about masturbation?” She was smiling so innocently he still wasn’t sure he could have heard her correctly.
But he knew he had.
“Uh…” his frown deepened. “In uh…what sense?”
Did I miss a vital part of this conversation?
“In the sense of your recovery.”
Now she’d really lost him.
“You…I…I don’t understand.” He shook his head.
“Orgasms have a lot of health benefits as well as mental health benefits such as-“
“I know all the…benefits.” Spencer felt his cheeks burning. “Scientifically speaking of course.”
“Well then you understand that frequent masturbation can have-“
“Yes, yes I get it.” His blushed deepened, spreading up down his neck.
“The bottom line is, Spencer, we have to find something to alleviate some of your need for drugs and for hurting yourself. This can’t keep happening.” She nodded towards his bandaged arm even though it was sheathed in his sweater.
“And you are suggesting I…that I uh…”
“Masturbate. Frequently.”
Spencer didn’t think it was possible to be any redder. He retracted his neck, burying it down his sweater collar until it came up around his chin, like a tortoise retreating into its shell.
“Uh…I don’t feel comfortable talking about this.”
“Clearly.” Maggie smirked at him. “Spencer, it’s a natural part of life, everyone does it.”
“I am aware.” He wrapped his arms around himself.
“So there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I’m…I don’t know. I’d just really rather not talk about it.” But he knew they were going to talk about it.
“When was the last time you masturbated?” Maggie poised her pen above her notebook.
She wants to write this down?!
“I-I don’t remember.” He lied, retreating further into his sweater.
“Spencer…” She gave him a look of disbelief.
“Oh my god.” He sighed, covering his face with his hands. “A few days ago.”
“Good, that’s great!” Maggie practically cheered and jotted down some notes. “And how did you feel after?”
Spencer groaned and kept his eyes covered so he didn’t have to look at her.
“Good I guess? Slightly guilty I suppose because it seemed…I don’t know…wrong?”
“And why did it seem wrong? Does masturbation usually feel wrong?”
“Oh god please stop saying it.” He felt his face burning. “And no that’s not what I meant.”
“What do you mean then?”
Spencer sighed and rubbed his eyes before removing his hands from his face. He didn’t look at Maggie though, he stared back at his shoes.
“Because of where I am, what I’m here to do. It seemed inappropriate I guess.” He picked at his shoelace.
“I can assure you it isn’t. I think you could really benefit from it Spencer. I want you to promise me that if you start craving drugs or start thinking about hurting yourself, promise me you’ll-“
“Masturbate. Got it.” His cheeks burnt again. He just wanted this conversation to be over.
Thankfully Maggie dropped it after that and he was able to stem his embarrassment the rest of the session. Until her parting words of “you can tell me how it goes next time” caused it to grow tenfold and he limped back to his room with a deep blush on his cheeks.
The rest of the day all Spencer could think about was masturbation, which was less than ideal. Being here wasn’t exactly sexy circumstances. Did Maggie think men could just get it up whenever they wanted? Admittedly, Spencer didn’t usually have much of an issue with that apart from the time he’d been on Prozac anyway.
Spencer knew all he’d need to do is close his eyes and think of you and…
…yep that did the trick.
He leant forward, his elbows on his knees to try and cover himself as he was sitting in the courtyard waiting for his visitor. It really wasn’t the time to be trying out techniques to get it up. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. At least he knew that it worked, he supposed.
As long as he didn’t think about you, the problem would resolve itself.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
“Spencer!”
His eyes shot open and thankfully his deep breaths had worked and he was no longer pitching a tent in his pants as she made her way towards him.
“Tara.” He smiled, pushing himself up with the help of his cane.
Tara beamed at him and wrapped her arms around him the second she was in reach.
“It’s so good to see you.” She spoke into his ear.
Spencer wrapped his free arm around her.
“It’s good to see you too.” It was good to see her, it wasn’t a lie.
But he still needed to see Emily. Although he wasn’t in the least surprised that it wasn’t her who came to visit. The hug ended and Tara was still smiling at him, albeit a little sadly.
“Do you want to walk around? The gardens are really nice.” Spencer offered.
“Sure that sounds nice.” She nodded.
She let Spencer go first, leading the way towards the winding path that travelled the institute's gardens. It was a slow amble, what with Spencer’s injury and walking stick but it was a sunny day and she relished the feeling of the sun beating down on her face.
“So,” she gave him a sideways glance as they walked. “How are you?”
Spencer wanted to laugh because it was such a loaded question and one with so many possible answers. But lying to Tara Lewis was one of the hardest things. He knew she wouldn’t be placated with a vague lie like the others.
“I have good days and I have bad days.” He knew that wouldn’t be enough for Tara so he continued. “Ok so I have completely terrible days and I have mediocre days.”
“What are your completely terrible days like?” She asked and it felt a little like he was in therapy.
If anyone else had asked, Spencer would have avoided the question. But Tara was so easy to spill his guts to.
“Well my last completely terrible day was yesterday. And I smashed a lightbulb in my room and cut myself on the glass.” He sighed as he spoke.
Tara’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“And your mediocre days?”
“I don’t smash lightbulbs and hurt myself?” He gave her a wry smile.
“Fair enough.” She chuckled a little.
“You’re the only person I’ve been honest with about that.” Spencer mused out loud.
They rounded a corner and started through the rose garden. The smells coming from the flowers were oddly calming.
“That’s understandable. You’ve known JJ, Garcia, Rossi and Emily for a really long time. It’s easier to talk openly with people you don’t know as well.” Tara told him like he didn’t already know that.
“They baby me.” He said instead. “They still see me as some little kid. You don’t see me that way because you didn’t know me when I was fresh out of the academy and the baby of the team.”
“You’re still the baby of the team.” She teased.
“I suppose.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand that wasn’t clenched around his cane. “Can I ask you something that might sound a little weird?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“I’m asking not as my friend. I’m asking in a professional capacity.”
Tara glanced at him again with a small frown. Spencer looked away from her, knowing he couldn’t look her in the eye and ask what he wanted to.
“Shoot.”
He exhaled noisily, in slight disbelief he was actually going to talk to her about this.
“What do you know about…unconventional forms of therapy?”
He felt Tara’s eyes on him.
“Such as?” She questioned.
Again he exhaled loudly.
“Masturbation as a form of recovery.” He mumbled, half hoping she wouldn’t hear him.
But of course she did.
“Oh.” She looked away from him, focusing on the rose bushes. “Uh well…I mean as well as the obvious of providing pleasure, it does benefit your health and mental well-being. Research and anecdotal reports suggest that sexual stimulation may help relieve built up stress, achieve better sleep and a better mood, it can help prevent anxiety and depression and can improve self esteem. But I’m sure you know all that.”
Spencer nodded, staring straight ahead. He didn’t speak so she continued.
“It releases dopamine which obviously helps put you in a better mood. Also oxytocin is released during orgasm which lowers cortisol levels. And endorphins which will help lower pain. Really the list goes on and on.”
“Forget I asked.” Spencer felt his cheeks staining red.
Amusement danced in Tara’s eyes as she saw the blush creeping across Spencer’s face and neck.
“I assume your therapist has suggested-“
“Yes.”
“And you’re uncomfortable doing-“
“Not usually.” He slowed his pace a little as his leg started to ache. “But in here…yes kind of.”
Tara clearly sensed his pain and guided him to a bench in the centre of the rose garden.
“You know all the facts and statistics on pretty much everything. So I’m sure that you know all the benefits of masturbation, Reid.”
His blush deepened and he looked down at his shoes.
“I really wish I hadn’t brought this up.”
“I’m honoured you feel you can talk to me about it. Even if you can’t look at me when you do.” Tara chuckled.
“I spent a long time sleeping around while I was high.” He confessed out loud. “And I never batted an eyelid. I am very aware that mastur…that it is just a natural part of life. I just feel weird talking about it.”
“Understood.” Tara smiled to herself. “The last time I saw you, you were with a woman.”
“I was?” He suddenly looked at her, wide eyed.
“Yeah, pretty young thing. I didn’t want to interrupt so I left you to it.”
“When was this?”
“A few months after you left the BAU I guess.”
“What did she look like?”
Tara pulled a face as she thought back.
“It was dark. I didn’t get a good look. And her face was kind of obscured by yours. She was up against a wall, you were a little preoccupied with your tongue down her throat.”
Spencer’s blush returned and subconsciously he rolled up his sleeve a little so he could toy with the woven bracelet.
“Goddamnit I wish I could remember.” He groaned.
When he looked back at Tara, she was staring at his bracelet with a slight frown.
“I’ve seen that before.” She spoke quietly, almost to herself.
Spencer looked from the bracelet to Tara and back again in quick succession.
“Where?”
Tara looked up and met his gaze and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
“It was dark but I’m sure that was it.”
“What? That was what?” Spencer begged to know.
“The arms wrapped around your neck…one of them had that bracelet on the wrist.”
Spencer looked back at the bracelet, the one you’d given him the other night. He ran his fingers over the threads.
“Are you sure?” He croaked.
“Pretty sure.” Tara nodded.
Spencer closed his eyes and kept his finger pressed against the bracelet hoping to jog something from his fractured memory.
He fled his apartment, the dilaudid coursing its way through his veins. Why had he spent so long fighting this? Why had he been so desperate to maintain his sobriety? After one hit, he was already hooked. He knew there was no way he would ever stop again.
He felt like he was on top of the whole world. It was undoubtedly the best Spencer felt since leaving prison. And he already knew it wouldn’t be the last time he got high. In fact he decided then and there he never wanted to be sober again.
If dilaudid made him feel this amazing, why would he ever want to give it up? He stumbled out onto the sidewalk, euphoria flooding his every nerve. Yes, he was definitely going to do this again.
His heart simultaneously raced and slowed. His lungs and chest felt like they were on fire. His brain was running rampant, bouncing around thoughts at a thousand miles a minute.
The world seemed brighter somehow even though it was still the middle of the night. He felt like he was walking among the clouds, floating in a sea of drugs. He was smiling to himself. Spencer didn’t know the last time he smiled. He wasn’t even sure he could smile anymore.
This was the sensation he’d been searching for since he left prison. No, this was the sensation he’d been searching for his entire life. He was so caught up in his exhilaration that he didn’t even see the other person walking his way and clearly they didn’t see him either as suddenly he found himself colliding with another body.
“Sorry! So sorry!” He laughed, helping steady the other person by their shoulders.
“I’m sorry.” They giggled. “Didn’t see you.”
The most mesmerising set of eyes stared back at Spencer and he thought she must be a goddamn angel because he’d never laid eyes on anyone so beautiful. She simply couldn’t be human.
The small part of his brain that was still functioning properly told him she was high too. And Spencer had an overwhelming urge to do unspeakable things to her.
Not normally one to be so bold, the dilaudid took over and before either of them spoke again he took hold of her shoulders and pushed her back against the nearest wall.
He didn’t give her a chance to speak before he crashed her lips into his. But judging by the way she kissed him back and the way her arms snaked around his neck, she didn’t mind.
He plunged his tongue frantically into her mouth. She tasted bitter. Coffee? No, not coffee…
…cocaine.
He pressed his body flush against hers and took hold of her delicate face in his hands. He was hard in no time at all and she must have known because she grinded against him furiously. A soft moan left her lips and he felt it vibrate against his own.
He had to have her. He had to have all of her.
He moved one hand from her face and down her body until he was cupping one of her breasts through her shirt. She moaned again, hips rolling against his.
She pulled him closer and explored his mouth with fervour. He was so caught up in her he forgot where they were, didn’t notice passers by stop and gawk at the display.
And he had no idea one of those onlookers was an old team member, slightly shocked by what she was seeing.
His hand moved from her breast, down her bare thigh and then up her skirt. He ran his fingers over her lace panties and he could feel her wetness seeping through the fabric.
She giggled against his lips and then suddenly broke the kiss. She smiled at him before grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him down the side of the building. He found himself in a dark alley, and now it was her turn to push him up against the wall.
She ran her fingers over his jaw, down his neck and chest and came to a stop at the bulge in his pants. He moaned even though there were two layers of fabric separating them. She giggled again and it was already Spencer’s new favourite sound.
She had a curious look in her eyes and he knew it was because of the drugs coursing through her system. He knew because he was sure he had the same look in his.
She toyed with the button of his slacks, making quick work of undoing it and sliding them down his hips along with his boxers just enough to free his erection. He hissed as the cool night air hit his sensitive skin but it was nothing compared to the noise he made when she wrapped her hand around his shaft.
He moaned, involuntarily bucking his hips. Her hand was so small and delicate around his cock. He glanced down to watch the way she worked him, hand moving fast and hard, up and down around him.
He barely noticed the purple and gold woven band adorned on her wrist as she strived to push him towards his brink.
His eyes opened with a start and Tara was observing him curiously.
“Did you remember something?” She sounded a little concerned.
“I’m not sure. Maybe.” He chewed on his lip. “I never know if they are real memories or if I fabricated them.”
“Reid, you’re sweating. A lot. And you're shaking.” She reached for his shoulder.
“That would be another bout of withdrawals. They come and go.” He sighed in defeat.
He was used to it by now but that didn’t mean they didn’t suck. But he was better at ignoring them by now.
“Let me help you back to your room.” Tara stood and helped Spencer to his feet.
He let her walk with him back through the gardens and into the main building and she walked close to him down the corridor to his room. She helped him lay down, by this point he was drenched in sweat.
“Do you want to get undressed or…?”
“No, I’m freezing.” His teeth chattered a little.
She draped the bed sheet over him and tucked him in like he was a small child.
“Get some rest.” She smiled softly at him.
“Thanks for coming, Tara. It was really good to see you.” He spoke but his eyes were already closing.
“Anytime, Spencer.” She whispered as she quietly backed out of the room.
Spencer’s whole body was shuddering and his skin was damp with perspiration, causing his clothes to stick to him. God he hated this. This was the worst feeling in the goddamn world.
What he wouldn’t give to make it all go away with the release of drugs. If he had more energy he might have considered taking Maggie’s advice. But right now all Spencer wanted to do was sleep.
And maybe if he was lucky, he might never wake up.
***
He spent most of the night he wasn’t asleep vomiting up every little bit of food he’d eaten the last few days. It was the worst the withdrawals had been in a while and it only made him want to use more.
All of this could be solved with one more hit of dilaudid or a tiny taste of cocaine. Thankfully by morning he felt better, not good but not as terrible as he had done.
He limped down to the bathrooms after his medication was distributed and stood under the flow of water staring at the purple and gold band.
And just from looking at it, the thoughts of a stranger's hand wearing that bracelet wrapped around his shaft, his cock was standing at attention within seconds.
He was alone in the cubicle, no one could see him. If he focused enough he could tune out the sounds of other patients showering around him.
It had to be you that had jerked him off in that alleyway. It had to be, didn’t it? In his mind he could see your beautiful face, hear your delightful giggle as you made him come with your hand. But Spencer knew his memory couldn’t be trusted these days.
Without consciously deciding to, his hand had wandered of its own accord and was already stroking himself, using the water from the shower as lubricant. He closed his eyes and pictured your face as you touched him, thinking of the way you moaned when his own hand worked its way inside your panties.
His toes curled on the tiled floor, imagining how you felt when his fingers dove inside of you.
“Make me come.” He heard your breathy voice in his ears. “Please make me come.”
He chewed his lip to stop his moan leaving his mouth as he picked up his pace.
“More! More! I need more!”
He envisioned the way your skin tasted when he’d practically ripped your shirt open with his free hand and taken your nipple in his mouth.
“Fuck! Fuck!”
His orgasm was already building, his chest and stomach tightening as he drew himself towards the edge.
“Gonna come. Oh fuck, I’m gonna come!”
He thought of the way you felt clenching around his fingers and visualised your face contorted in pleasure as you came. He was so close, he needed the release more than he realised.
Seconds before he let his orgasm consume him, there was a loud knock on the cubicle door.
“Doctor Reid, that’s long enough now.” A nurse's voice permeated his sordid thoughts.
He groaned loudly, immediately dropping his hand back to his side.
“I’ll be right out.” His voice shook a little as he spoke.
He hadn’t even had a chance to wash himself. He’d been too caught up in pleasuring himself.
“Now please, Doctor Reid.”
He rolled his eyes and shut off the shower, feeling frustrated and on edge from his close brush with his orgasm. He dried himself off and dressed quickly, his previously throbbing erection now a thing of memory.
He hobbled out the cubicle with his cane and over to the sink to brush his teeth. It was going to be a long day.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x fem! reader#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
LO RANT:
Okay, I’m just going to say that I’m really very upset. I hope this blows up and I even hope some lore olympus fans see this but the way that some people are reacting is just disgusting. I’ll try to keep this short because I’ve got other things to do but Im just going to outlet all my rage into this because I’ve been absolutely dreading this episode for a while now.
I knew Demeter’s haters were going to be multiplied by 10000x after this episode and it’s just as I said. I hate it so much, I don’t know why every time a woman cries, or gets upset, or she’s stuck in a terrible situation it’s used as something light and not even taken seriously. Why are the insults of Demeter thrown around as a joke? Why is it that when Demeter does literally fucking anything everyone acts like she’s ruining the world. I know I have a huge bias of Hades and I know I share my dislike for him immensely but even from an unbiased point Hades is not a very fleshed out or well developed character. We’re supposed to believe that he’s one of the good guys and that he’s just framed as a monster and how in his past he’s been uptight and absolutely horrible to be around but we do not see any development. I’m so sick and tired of Persephone and her “love” and her “treatment” being the only thing that carries him. I despise that the only development that he has at all is being “in love.”
I say this because you literally can’t even remember Hades being nice to anyone who isn’t Persephone or doing things that are even decent for anyone who isn’t connected to Persephone. He’s such a poorly written character that he legit cannot find any sort of healing by himself, why can’t we just let him sort out his emotions and do something that’s actually development worthy. He’s always talking about how much of a terrible person he is and how no one fucks with him but he never gets his shit together, he continues to treat people around him terribly and abuse his power without remorse. There is no healing, no love, no development. Like honestly if you give me three valid developmental changes that separates Hades now from Hades then that doesn’t revolve around Persephone, I will give you a fucking badge and I will become a fucking Hades stan for crying out loud.
Next thing is how is this love? How is Persephone having to be the reason of his existence love? How is Persephone being the only thing he has love? The man needs fucking therapy, he’s so emotionally attached to her that it’s unhealthy. This is not what love is about, you’re not supposed to use your spouse or your lover as some fucking therapist or something you’re supposed to deal with your problems beforehand. Not saying that you deal with it all by yourself of course, but you need to have a balance. Too much of anything is bad for you and in this case too much reliance on Persephone coddling and fixing his problems is one of the main reasons why this relationship doesn’t work. Romantically or lustfully, they both help each other because they’re so into how they physically look. Ever notice that actually? Whenever they mention each other most of the time it’s about physical appearance, that’s quite literally the only thing that they share. What the hell do they help each other with that isn’t some form of Hades trauma dumping? Have they ever resolved conflict that didn’t effect the other in a bad way? Have they ever sat down and had a real down to earth conversation with each other that didn’t involve them flirting and lusting with each other? It’s so annoying that that’s literally all of their conversations, not saying that people who obviously like each other can’t flirt but it becomes a problem when that’s literally the only thing they do.
Also I’m so sick and tired of people saying, again, that Hades is better now and that he’s not the same person. YES HE IS. HES LITERALLY THE SAME FROM BEFORE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER HAS CHANGED. If he’s suffering everyone is and there is no in between and we’ve seen that happen so many times, this man doesn’t have consideration for anyone who isn’t Persephone and it’s getting fucking tiring. I’m getting fed up with this comics poor writing, if you wanna parade around and say how developed and well written your characters are please have the decency at least to make them that way. Stop fucking telling us shit and show us please it’s getting so enraging and infuriating.
Also, I hate that in this fandom so many fucked up characters are praised for everything they do. Even to the fucking main character which everyone shouts that they stan and they protect but they don’t even call out any of their faves who have actively hurt Persephone. A lot of fans have such animosity towards Minthe fans but I will say this, at least most Minthe fans acknowledge that she’s done terrible things and they don’t stray away from the fact that she’s not a great person. I’ve seen so many people who favorite other problematic characters not even bring up what they did and even went as far as to sweep it under the rug, gaslight people into thinking it’s false, and even defending the disgusting things that they did. It’s really concerning how this fandom will bend over backwards for the characters who do the exact same fucking shit that they hate other characters for.
Another thing is that I absolutely hate how weird and sexual everything had to be between them, especially by Hades. It’s so incredibly disgusting how every single boob shot, lip shot, and body shot is from Hades’ point of view. Like why can’t Persephone just be in clothes that fit her, that she’s comfortable in, that she gets to pick out. Everything about her has to resort to Hades thinking about sexual things and this would’ve been fine if Persephone was actually in charge of her own sexuality. There are some rare times when she is but for the most part it’s everyone else treating her like she’s a sexual object on display that they can ogle at. Literally there’s so many unnecessary panels of Persephone doing normal things with her boobs out and don’t forget the countless poses and positions that she’s constantly in to make her look weirdly inappropriate as well. I just don’t get it, why can’t Persephone have any control why is her being cute surrounded by the idea of her being powerless with big boobs and a tiny waist and stuff. I also don’t exactly enjoy the fact that the only real endgame to all of this is Persephone giving up her virginity to Hades, that’s what most fans are ready for and that’s how they want it to end. Me personally, it makes me feel uncomfortable that people comment about Persephone finally having sex with Hades and stuff so passionately. I’m not sure why I feel like this but it always makes me incredibly sick, maybe I’m the only one.
But anyways the last thing I wanna say is that I absolutely hate that everyone is just so strict and cruel to Demeter, they can’t possibly see her side of things but they’ll go through hoops trying to defend Hades and bully other people who have differing opinions. Speaking of that, I’m very glad that there hasn’t been any real toxic fans interacting with me. I’ve seen how rude and disrespectful they can get so I really am happy that everyone who views my page are such bright wonderful people. Hopefully it stays like that but you never know, this post might be the one to wake them up. But anyways, that’s the end of the rant and I probably made it even longer than usual (which I apologize for) but if you really made it this fair I applaud you because I know it’s a lot. This episode just really triggered such anger within me because of how powerless and defeated Demeter looked while Hades shouted and insulted her, even going as far as to invade her personal space. It’s all so disgusting and so many people have let it slide which just makes me eye roll. I had to defend her because not many people ever do it seems. But like I always say these rants are meaningless outlets for me and my opinions to write my thoughts down and how I interpreted the media, if you agree or disagree is both fine we don’t have the same brains so we’re not always going to agree. Also, I mean no disrespect to the fandom (that’s not toxic) but I did want to call out the bullshit that some fans do seem to pull with these situations.
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
i still consume a lot of tumblr but i feel i am posting and interacting on here less. and i have not shouted out my accomplishments much (now or ever) so i suppose i may seem to be just fading into the fog a little bit. i just wanted to let y'all know: i'm doing better.
... albeit, not this week (this week in particular sucks in strange unprecedented ways lol i'm going nuts (positive) (screw the haters) (fuck it we ball)) but *~in general~* i am awesome. i'm doing really well in therapy. i'm busy with real life stuff which is pushing me to grow really fast and make a lot of choices in the direction of get healthier, get more connected to the community and improve my relationships, get hobbies that are more rewarding than scrolling, because i don't have a lot of spare time between these decisions and gosh darn it i'm good under pressure. wouldn't you know it, doing constructive things for others and yourself also make you less depressed!
(i am living the principle of "do it scared." never been in exposure therapy but i imagine this is maybe what it feels like also.)
i have always come here most often as an escape; distraction, point of connection when i'm partially dissociated, outlet for yelling into the void when i feel very isolated. i don't feel isolated anymore most of the time.
no "void" to yell into. just always everywhere i turn, irl and online, find myself being a goofy dorky human in the company of other goofy humans, learning to be a person, not really as weird or "behind" as i thought in the grand scheme of things. starting to be fine with being me.
strangers and beloved mutuals all, i am dearly grateful to you for being here for me when i was at my most lost. for sharing your own thoughts and feelings and memes. you are good humans
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
massive tw
Did something bad and I feel good about it. I cut my wrists for the first time today and it makes it all feel so much better. It hurts in a better way than banging my head against the wall or bruising my legs ever has. At this point I don't care how unhealthy my coping choices are. They make me feel better for a split second every time and hell if it's true that eternal peace is what lies beyond death than I'm so fucking ready for it. I don't need or want the shit life is throwing at me. I don't need to hear about my own past with sa, sh, sui thoughts, therapy and anger management. What I need is an outlet to talk about those things but thos is closest I have short of a server where the best I'll ever get is
"I feel bad" or "that's horrible" or someone telling me about their own experience. No. I don't fucking need that what I need is someone to comfort me. Someone to give me hugs and help me find peace. And if there's no one out there to help me find peace than I'll make my own peace with a bottle of prozac. So I'll go raid my sister's bathroom pantry. And be back sometime for my note.
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Also, i wanted to say that there's a really bad stigma around ppl going to therapy, like that's something only "Crazy" and "abnormal" ppl go to. And the place Toga's parents sent her to was some kind of "counselor" to "make her normal" and they just didn't bother giving her any kind of closure at all after but again, scorn and shame.
Therapy could mean finding that closure, or finding a healthy way to be and feel, if i'm not mistaking. Toga was never allowed any of that.
TUP YUP YUP NOTHING TO SAY TO THAT YOURE JUST SO FUCKING CORRECT
I do wonder if a changed world may mean mandated therapy for children to some extent yk, along with their quirk counseling. Maybe the quirk counseling starts focusing on healthy outlets for their quirks (no but why is it not legal to use your quirk anywhere except specific areas like UA???? Shouldn’t they have a space to do that??? Like at school or something? Middle school I mean. They all start talking about on their first day of UA about how they have “never let out their true potential”, how is a kid supposed to cope with their quirk then?????) because it’s a needed thing that definitely could’ve saved toga!
This whole thing with changing the world becomes even more complicated when you remember that toga and dabi exist because of the culture that surrounds quirks. If quirk marriages weren’t a thing, better yet if dabi was still supported and payed attention to with his quirk and was still allowed to become a hero, he would have never burned down that forest!
Same with toga! Her parents wouldn’t have acted the way they did were not so normal quirks normalized. The culture surrounding worshiping heroes, being the strongest, heroes working to the bone, heroes like vlad taking the time to just say “blood related quirks happen, we can’t just act like they don’t exist”, any of it.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alright. I have a confession to make. I've been wanting to talk about this for a while, but it is another big reason that my Backrooms story is being delayed and why I'm less active.
(TW for w*e*e*d mention/subst*nce use, as well as N*S*F*W themes).
Last year, I started taking cannabis edibles for the first time in my life. They're legal in my state, and I was just... So at the end of my rope with trying to find something, anything, that would help my anxiety and help my brain shut off or wander off at night to take my thoughts away from the mental & emotional trauma I've been through in the last year. I took advice from a couple friends who take edibles, I still catalogue my reactions to it like a fucking scientist to try and be careful not to let myself go too wild.
CBD and THC hybrid gummies have been a lifesaver for me. I feel so much more relaxed after work. I can fall asleep so much faster. I feel so pleasantly lucid, and I can imagine so much more to my music.
I've also found that Sativa, especially when not combined with my CBD gummies, sends my imagination into overdrive like I wouldn't believe. And at first, I LOVED it!! I thought "oh holy shit I can use this energy to write more, faster!"
Until I realized that along with my ideas, it also amplified my ADHD. My thoughts and ideas bounce around off of each other SO MUCH that I need to scramble to get them written on Google Docs. I become beyond existential when lost in thw sauce. And not in a bad way! I have actually been able to work through a LOT of emotional and mental baggage that I've been carrying, simply by dumping my philosophical ramblings and self-pep-talks/ self-criticisms on Docs. And that's why, in spite of me not focusing as much on this big project, I feel like it's been important for me to get these thoughts out. They could be potential ideas for books, comics, short stories etc.
BUT needless to say, it is a reason that I can't stay focused on one chapter after another. I have four chapters left, and I keep bouncing back and forth between them. Because, spoiler, my last couple chapters are going to be as trippy as a drug trip. I'm gonna incorporate elements similar to Doctor Strange, Quantumania and Spiderverse.
But overall, I'm going to listen to my Muse, and strike while the iron's totally blitzed. 👍 I feel like, if I try to force myself to work on a chapter or drawing, I'll lose passion for it. It's not fizzling out, it's just on the backburner, collecting flavor and thoroughly cooking.
(N*S*F*W*): A slightly more... Embarrassing reason, is that, because I'm over-imaginative and horny on main, my libido also gets massively enhanced by edibles 50% of the time. So I end up dumping some of the naughtiest concepts I've ever had about my OCs or canon characters, or absolutely paralyzing myself with lee/switch moods by listening to songs, playing spooky games, watching videos with Ler vibes, that all activate my fear kink & tickle kink. And it's... A very good outlet. I may never share some of these writings, but it's helped me get over that last bit of shame I've carried with me ever since the first Tumblr purge and since the "ew kinky people r gross, tickling shouldn't be s3xual" uprising of SFW tickle blogs.
BUT ALL IN ALL, I do take CBD for legitimate anxiety reasons. My anxiety meds have not done shit since this January, when everything at work started going to hell. CBD relaxes my body and actually helps me fall asleep like nothing else ever has.
Meanwhile being on sativa and caffeine can keep me up til 6 in the morning. Like right now as I'm writing this. 😃 But again, it gets the huge dam of thoughts to break and flow freely.
So yeah. Weed has been better therapy for me than actual therapy. For thirty fucking years of my life, I have been desperate to find some kind of coping mechanism, or outlet, or medicine, to help my disorders. And these edibles, along with my antidepressant and creative mind, have worked together pretty damn nicely. And I can now say along with MANY of my friends and peers, fuck anyone who says that medical marijuana should not be legal. Hell, imo recreational weed should also be legal just about everywhere in certain doses, but I'm not gonna get into politics.
I understand if you don't personally approve of the use of recreational drugs. But please, if you're going to judge me, or anyone who uses weed to help calm their mental issues, kindly keep it to yourself. I don't want another situation where an abusive fuckhead tried to mock a friend of mine for smoking pot. Or a dude on a server I'm modding getting childishly preachy about how everyone who uses it will end up fucked in the head and that proper diet and exercise is the cure-all for mental issues.
I'm a grown adult, I know my limits. Sometimes I slip a little and take them 4 nights in a row. Other times I take them maybe twice a week. But I know myself well enough to know that when I set a boundary for myself, I'm fucking stubborn about not breaking it. IF I feel myself slipping, I will reach out for legit help. I also know I can't blow too much money on eddies each month. But I need yall to understand that I've needed this.
TL;DR: I've been taking cannabis edibles and it's helping redirect my mind into places that I didn't realize I needed to explore, and it's been very helpful to me physically and emotionally, so I'd rather go with the flow and not force myself to work on my projects.
So, either way, if you've read this, thank you so much for sticking around. ❤
#tw: weed#if this gets shadowbanned I swear to christ#this puritanism is EXACTLY why I've been hesitant to even share this#tw: marijuana#n/sfw#sativa#cbd#edibles#long post
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
but we can patch it up good
therapy notes & journals over the span of Ian, Mickey and their children's life. Inspired by the fic 'The Good Part' by @doodlevich
CW: bipolar disorder, anxiety, mentions of childhood abuse
March 7th, 2022 - IAN
I can practically hear Mickey’s snicker about how I’m like a twelve-year-old girl writing in her diary. He’s … probably right but fuck it. Dr Grayson said I should write my feelings down, that it's easier to find patterns in episodes and when they're coming so I guess the whole journaling won’t be that bad. I did once, a long time ago. A fucking lifetime ago. It was a good outlet then, so probably will be now too. Just hope have to make sure my mind isn’t going everywhere this time. Clear head, clear thoughts. Plus, Mick always says I’m full of shit because I think we should have more hobbies than all we do is sit around and smoke all day which - i’d like to defend is a great hobby. But what’s one more - This counts as a hobby right? It should this feels like shit ton of work already. I don’t know what I’m supposed to write, I feel like that’s coming more clear with every sentence I write… Grayson said to write a full page. Why is this fucking paper so long. Ummmmm. Today’s Sunday. Pretty decent week, boring. Maybe boring is good. Mick and I signed on another farm to our schedule, they’re paying us pretty good considering they’re kinda far. They’re giving us fruit too. Like organic fresh fruit. I know is kinda trivial but I mean it’s something right? OH Lip, Tami Freddie and Robbie came down from Milwaukee Friday. The kids are getting so big. Last time I saw Tami she was pregnant and now Robbie can hold his head up. Time fucking flies. Anyway, I’m glad Lip’s back, missed him. He, Carl, Mickey, and I are supposed to go to this axe-throwing thing Carl found. Sounds like it's gonna be a shitshow but I think it’s also gonna be fun. Fuck maybe Mick was right I do kinda feel like a teenage girl right now.
Whatever. Ian fucking focus. I’m supposed to write how I’m feeling. I feel good. Better than I think I ever had. That’s a fucking crazy thought. Shit. A large part of that is Mickey. He’s in the kitchen right now, I can hear him curing at our pots and pans. Think he’s trying to figure out how to use the oven. Dumbass. We have our problems, and probably always will but that's okay. I should probably stop my fucking diary time -fucker’s in my ear- and help him before he blows our apartment up.
Final thoughts: It’s good. Life’s good. He’s good great
How am I feeling today: Good, Hopeful, Content.
[read the rest on AO3!]
#gallavich#gallavich fanfic#shameless us#ian and mickey#gallavich oneshot#ian gallagher#ian x mickey#mickey milkovich#elle writes#bipolar disorder#ruby 🐝#autumn 🍂
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
i am going to acknowledge to everyone witnessing my livebogging my decent into madness right now (sorry if you thought it was going to be over when i woke up)
i relate heavily to ted lasso (scroll down until ted lasso meta begins if you don't want to read my background and perspective)
i was in a relationship with someone who was unhappy with me and didnt like how supportive and optimistic i was (or the fact that i wanted some courtesy of respect instead of being dismissed whenever i try to talk about my feelings)
i thought i was quitting. i thought i had given up. that i had failed so spectacularly at this relationship. and then i watched michelle tell ted that he wasn't quitting, he was letting her go and i believed her
and tried focusing my attention on being a better version of myself that i liked, while also helping those around me to the best of my ability
yeah i went through a fuck ton of therapy (note the breakup was 2 months ago), and i feel i am a better person overall and i actually like myself for the first time EVER in my life
i have lead crews the same exact way ted does richmond. i never read any leadership books, i didnt take my fellow leader's out-dated toxic advice, i just did what i thought was right
which was helping everyone to be the best versions of themselves, as well as lead themselves without me so they don't need me to do anything for them, i just exist and make sure everyone is okay in life and is happy with the crew's dynamic and take suggestions on how to make things better
(dont even get me started on the fact that i BUILT a confession box for EVERYONE, not just my crew, to make suggestions they would like to see happen at the work center and on their own crews)
and everyone did get better. everyone was happier and the work was done better than before, without ever focusing on trying to get "results"
i was lucky to do this because my supervisor actually listened to me, and let me experiment with leading my way instead of the way everyone else was
but me? i was miserable. i was with another person who didnt like my optimism and thought i was naive for thinking my way would work. i had no support network. and i eventually attempted suicide and left that job.
and did everything magically work after i left?
no
the systems and belief i brought to the center died. new leaders were appointed who went back to the standard old ways of leading and everyone followed
MULTIPLE people i was working with individually outside of work, who were having really hard times and i tried to help them with their feelings and appropriate outlets, and were really improving while i was there, were ALL fired. and to note, i convinced multiple supervisors to let me try and help people out instead of punishing them for their circumstances, and it worked!
until i was gone, and they lost the only leader that was in their corner and believed in them
i created an entire new system for the center council. my technical position was "secretary", but i did EVERY job on that council because nobody else would. sure the president would lead the meetings and read my notes and plans aloud to everyone, but that was all he did. i did the actual work
i created such a loving supportive network at the expense of my mental health
and it did not get better when i left, for anyone. it got worse, for everyone
META BEGINS HERE
so yeah, i see myself as ted. i was so hopeful i was going to see something actually succeed where ted got to stay and work on finding his own happiness, that i am utterly unimpressed with the ending.
ted goes back to his kid and (maybe) ex-wife? hollow? alone? trying to think everything will work out magically without him and nobody needs him except his son? maybe he and his wife will try again? with him masked?
ted wore a mask in the beginning, everyone did, but it came off for a little bit and it was nice to see. i don't like this new mask.
and i know from experience. because i did the same thing. i left people because i didnt think they needed me anymore. i stayed in relationships with people who wanted to fit me in a box and i let them.
i lived a honky dory life. leaving destruction in my wake and regressed to someone that was almost impossible for me to escape.
i just don't like seeing that ending for ted and only HIS hopes and dreams about everyone else. i genuinely believe people will succeed without him, i just dont think it will be the same. and that's cool, but wouldnt it also be cool for ted to let loose, reap the rewards, figure out his own happiness? all the while being part of an amazing family?
this show is either brilliant, and making a statement about how this show ISNT a good light-hearted comedy, it is actually a TRAGEDY, and we are supposed to see that ted chose to regress and accept a miserable life
OR
there is something that i am missing :/
#ted lasso#ted lasso spoilers#m rambles#i know i am projecting and not everything happens the same way#just because it happened to me doesnt mean that is what happened to ted#but you have to admit from my perspective how sad this ending is#because truth is? i wanted to stay at that job. i just didnt have a support network there#and i never had the time or energy to find my happiness because it was always taken from me for various reasons#i didnt want to leave#i had to for my mental health#ted doesn't need to leave either
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m just mad and cannot stop being that way tonight
I’m mad and frustrated about a lot of things and my outlets don’t help and nobody even knows what to tell me anymore. I don’t even know what I want to do anymore. I’ll just be here, making art I guess because it’s all I can do
I don’t want a wide range of attention but I want some sort of real, genuine recognition and understanding
I’m frustrated and I feel crazy. I miss someone who disappeared months ago, now. At the end of the month I’m going somewhere and I know I’ll be looking for them in the back of my mind the entire weekend. And I’m mad at myself for getting attached or thinking any of it even mattered, and I’m mad at them because why would you make me think any of it mattered if you were going to just disappear, and I’m just. Beside myself. When I’m really, really alone it always comes back to the surface. It’s futile. No amount of messages or calls or prayers will do anything to make them come back, either they will or won’t, and lets be honest with ourselves, they won’t. Everything felt real with them and now nothing does anymore. Again. I’m tired of my options being get jerked around on a chain [until your master leaves], settle for someone you find uninteresting and unappealing but who is also harmless, be alone, or be in love with an absence.
I literally cannot handle it anymore and I don’t want to be this way, I don’t want to think this way, I just wish I were normal. I wish people would listen to me when I say things and not try and say “oh that’s not true” because it doesn’t make me feel better, it feels like you are trying to manipulate me or extort me or just fucking hurt me in some way. Trying to console me “oh you’re not that strange oh there are lots of people out there who want to be with your or be your friend”
like okay yeah there ARE lots. there are tons and tons of people who see me and think I’m pretty and want to fuck me. great, fantastic. I’m so glad it’s easy to get laid. maybe finally someone will kill me on an ill-advised hookup and then I won’t have to feel like this anymore. I fucking wish. instead I just get people too pussy to even choke me because I’m so pretty and so small and so sweet and then I feel bad and disgusting about myself but at least I made someone else feel good right. right. everyone in my life, every authority figure in my life, just groomed me into servitude.
And it never used to be this bad but I really just have been through too much at this point & I wish I remembered nothing or that it didn’t fucking happen this way because none of it is my fault and that I lack agency even in my own decline is enough to make me sick!!! I made the right choices and did everything I could but it doesn’t matter. it never does. it’s maddening too because people just try to fucking cognitive behavioral therapy me out of this but that doesn’t work and frankly just makes me want to hurt you!!!!! it isn’t distorted thinking when it is literally my life’s history. it isn’t a cognitive distortion when it literally happened and does keep happening.
and nobody wants to talk about it or hear me talk about it anymore and I get it but what am I supposed to do. I’m trying. I’m writing and drawing and making music and trying to distract myself and going on walks and trying to do wellness shit but it doesn’t ever matter because I am only an individual and my problems are in no small part systemic. so what am I supposed to do!!!
#mad scrawl#I literally feel like people just don't want us to kill ourselves because it would make them feel bad.#there's not any regard for my life or prospects or how I feel#what if your life is really bad and you are repeatedly traumatized because of effectively poverty that u can never escape#and that will continue to traumatize you#like should I just get fucked up and fuck myself up and die fast. is that it. is that the only way any of this matters.
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Big kudos for this chapter and not throwing us head first into angst (ngl I totally read timeline 2 first cause well….i’m impatient 😭). The fluff in this one was so so sweet and cute and adorable. Some things I loved about this chapter:
Magnus and distractions
It was interesting when Magnus noticed he couldn’t take the stress of always being busy anymore. That at one time it was his fuel to keep going and eventually it became his frustration and fatigue. It almost felt to me like him keeping busy was a coping mechanism to avoid his inner turmoil, rather focusing all his attention on his work and doing what makes him happy (?). I think this even extended into post breakup where he turned to alcohol and avoidance as a crutch for his personal issues. I think something that caused a shift in timeline 1 was that Magnus started to find a sense of peace and stability with Alec. He didn’t need to run from himself and his problems anymore because he had a trusting anchor to keep him steady. He had someone there to look after him, to remind him of his strength, to help him feel comfortable, to feel safe, supported and seen, to show him he is worthy of love. He didn’t need to distract himself anymore because not confronting his fears was pushing him away from the man he loves. Of course this is something he is still working on but like we saw at the end of timeline 2, he is making better decisions even when he feels tempted to relapse and run away.
Healing takes time.
I loved that you showed a transition within the chapters of Malec coming back to each other slowly after the hospital incident. It really made me remember that healing is something that is continuous, that is non linear, that follows no method, that is constantly unfolding within us. Malec going to therapy, Magnus learning about how to support Alec, Alec giving Magnus the space to come back to him. It was all this conscious journey of reestablishing trust within each other. If they rushed into it, for sure they would face deeper issues in the future. I think it shows just how deep their love is, that they will wait for each other to come back to their themselves, to their relationship to their love, when they are ready.
This line really stuck with me: "I guess I've always been scared of needing people." Magnus going to Alec’s bed to bring him home back to him was so powerful because it showed how safe he feels with Alec. How much he knows that Alec will do anything and everything to keep him from harm (even if he hurts him in the process). I’m glad Magnus is at a point where he feels comfortable relying on other people for his stability, knowing that he deserves to be cared for, that he can be vulnerable, that he isn’t alone in his struggles anymore (especially in timeline 2).
Angry Alec
I mean….seriously. This man needs support with emotional regulation. It makes sense he would struggle with this though because of his work and how much they are taught to block out their feelings to get the job done. I think he was just so overwhelmed by guilt and angry that he was ‘played’ by Magnus. That he let his guard down, surrendered to his love, forgot about all the pain and then was snapped back to reality so quickly. I will not excuse however the way he spoke to Magnus and threw out hurtful fighting words to try and bring Magnus down. Just because you are hurting doesn’t mean you can hurt people too. Baby boy you got some serious grovelling to do. I see now why he is going to do something stupid and self sacrificial in regards to Imasu. Usually he would talk to his siblings about his issues but I think now the guilt will stop him from doing that. His outlet? Do dumb shit.
"You're a prime example of how people can be pretty and smart and a dumbass at the same time."
I laughed so hard at this because Alec was 10/10 calling himself out!! Just goes to show we all have our challenges. Nobody it perfect and it’s kinda fucking amazing because how else will we learn?
That transition from past to present
That was fucking rude! You just gonna torture us with Alec military angst and then lead into Malec relationship angst. Let a hoe breathe 😰. Anyway my first thought with the end of timeline 1 is Alec is seriously injured orrrr Alec’s unit has gone missing and they can’t reach them? I was kinda hoping we might get a scene of Alec randomly showing up after deployment and surprising everyone? Whatever it is I am curious! (I’ve been watching wayyyyy too many military reunion videos)
Notable mentions
- Malec listing over our favs Tarlos
- Arrow trying to soothe Malec even though he was mad he didn’t get to cuddle with Chairman anymore
- Ragnor, Imasu and Jem being there to support Magnus
- Alec being so passionate about being an Officer because he wants to help people like him feel safe too
- Drunk Alec cheating on his boyfriend with his boyfriend
- Raphael almost needing a triple bypass because of Alec’s crush
I know you’ve got a lot going on so take care! Hope everything goes well for you 🥰
hello. hi.
oof- I always have to take a five minute break after reading your analysis because sometimes I write smth but after reading people’s thought I go- “oh I never thought of that this way”. It’s pretty amazing actually so thank you for doing that.
I did want to show the whole healing process slowly and not act like everything was perfect just because they made up in ch7. I thought it was important. And yes, while Magnus does love his job dearly—a part of it is a defence mechanism since his job allows him to be around people without actually knowing them/letting them know me.
Also, since it’s not really a spoiler—Alec’s unit is missing.
P.S. there is going to be a surprise visit from Alec during one of his future deployments. It’s in the last chapter and is my absolute favourite scene. You’re going to love it.
Thank you again. You also take care love. 🌻🌸
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
ionlydidthisforspirk
audrey💪
trinkwey
Mr.Trink
lvna-m0th
#girlballs
loohser
sometimes i write
bg3scenarios
Baldur’s Gate 3
Scenarios