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#mental health discussion on main

levmada · 9 months

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for let's get real 💝💘

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

thundershower - specifically the insaneee positive attention that it got. i was worried it was rushed garbage and i wasn't able to give the original requester the justice their idea deserved (plus it was based on a different fic with the roles reversed) so maybe i worried it'd be boring? this was last year and it's hard to remember. anyway that was great<3

💘Is there any posted fic you want to rework/re-edit/re-write?

hmmm anything that’s under 10k doesn't really interest me (even if it's AWFUL) because if it's awful it's most likely older, and i see older fics as a sort of time capsule to my style/skill at the time lol.

howeverr i started a canon fix-it fic in late 2021 that's still ongoing and i would love to rewrite the first 20 chapters. i'd started writing in fandom again recently atp so i was relearning how to write, mainly i was still going THROUGH it mentally (and not in the depression way but the ptsd-fueled psychosis way. and the depression way) and it's kindaaa a mess but the whole 259k words thing is kind of intimidating. and those early chs are cringe.

reeeall fic writer asks

#mental health discussion on main #loll #★play!★

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aho-dapa · 2 months

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This fandom is honestly...

Like, there is something to be said about fandoms in general and how they've changed as a whole generally but

There's also something about how the acotar fandom is especially toxic like

The idea that a post is surprised a murder hasn't happened yet and I found myself agreeing??? Is honestly telling

Like, also. A massive part of this is shipping and maybe it's because I have my corner of this fandom, but even then shipping the "wrong" thing in general has become something I honestly have to take in consideration when thinking of my mental health and if I can personally be prepared for any backlash??

This fandom at large doesn't feel safe and that's majorly concerning tbh

Maybe instead of saying shippers as a group are doing harm, we should just disavow harmful actions in general and not be complicit in it idk???

#anyway #just having thoughts #anti sjm #like I'm also pro Tamlin? and that doesn't help #i had to stop making intensive tamlin posts because my mental health honestly couldn't handle the constant discourse #which is sad when people genuinely come with the intent to discuss but since its all horrible in general I end up not having a lot of #emotional space to have a good conversation most of the time sighhhh #i also just end up blocking people in general when my timeline messes up my interests but #i have yet to block main ship tags because I still want to interact with my side of fandom on it but I'm sooooooo close to blocking #main tags because some people are vile on here #don't even get me started on gwyn because people end up saying shit they shouldn't be just because of shipping #and I don't have any personal feelings about gwyn but the way people say she's not important as a character gives me the ick tbh #like I get it from a sjm is a terrible writer standpoint #but gwyn did have narrative importance in acosf despite however I feel about how it coulf have been better written #and also as a character that is very explicitly a SA survivor some people here need to THINK about how they talk about her

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yesmissnyx · 10 months

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Hello, Miss Nyx. I'm around 25, and I've only recently gotten into this sort of thing- and mostly on a sideblog, until I realized how much more limited they are. How do you get past the fear of being judged for kink/being sexual in public places like tags?

Hey there! Oh man, this is a question that got me thinking. So, uh, long post incoming!

Okay, so...being unapologetically horny has been something I've been wanting to do for most of my adult life, but I've only managed to get over my fears of being judged/being seen as inappropriate this year. In my 30s. A little past the point where greater society sees as conventionally desirable, oops.

That being said, it didn't just happen magically! it's taken a lot of working on myself and introspection to get to the point where I feel confident enough to do this. What's helped the most though, is the following:

-> Trusting in myself enough to read the room, and post things in appropriate places. I'm generally careful to make sure my stuff is mature-locked (which, THANK YOU TUMBLR for finally adding that!) and finding tags that can be easily searched AND filtered.

Blocking/filtering makes it so that someone only has to see me ONCE before they can block me and never see me again. It's not my responsibility to make myself everyone's taste, you know? It's not even possible! If someone doesn't want to see me, they are more than welcome to block me or my personal tags.

All I can do is go, "This is the content I want to create," create it, and then put it places where it can be found.

-> If I do mess up, or someone gives me feedback that makes me question whether I should change something, I also trust in myself to take criticism with grace and respond to it rationally. Sometimes criticism (or feedback) is coming from a place of genuine helpfulness. Sometimes it's coming from a place of entitlement.

Either it aligns with my values, or it doesn't. By knowing what kind of content I *want* to make, it's easier to decide what feedback I want to give space to.

-> And finally, I trust myself to deal with any harassment, bullying or negativity that comes my way. It'll feel bad in the moment, but I've dealt with enough of that during my life that I know the bad feelings will eventually pass, and I'll be okay in the end.

Like I said--I have no intention to be everyone's taste. There are going to be people who get mad at me for any number of stupid reasons!

(People are very good at doing that, especially on social media.)

But all I can do is try my best to save that mental real estate for the VERY KIND and VERY LOVELY people who have shown me appreciation for what I do.

It sucks, because the reality of the situation is that you have to put yourself out there to receive that kind of support, and find the emotional freedom that comes with receiving that kind of support.

It's hard, and it's taken me a long time to get here, but so far it's absolutely been worth it 💞 Good luck on your own journey!

#long post #ask nyx #nyxrambles #Also this is only one of my homes on tumblr! Go make another account if you feel like it'll help!#Compartmentalization is good and we should all do it more in the current era of socmed #And before anyone asks no you do not get to see my main ;)#kink discussion #kink and mental health

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xxxairheadedangelxxx · 4 months

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Cw; MH and ED talk ahead cause I have literally no idea where else I can talk about this sorry for being DEPRESSING ON MAIN YOU CAN FULL IGNORE ME

How do you recover from an eating disorder you were never diagnosed with. I just recently became like extremely self destructive and lost my job bc of it and it finally hit me why I'm in this unending cycle of suffering where I'm never actually improving or changing for the better

I never recovered from my ED in high school. I just swapped starvation for binging bc fat meant recovered and made people leave me alone bc if I was just some big titties people could joke on the maybe I could learn to tolerate myself as a sex object and be "normal"

I've never changed since then. I have been a scared fucked up suicidal self hating 15 year old for 12 fucking years. 12 years I have lost because I was always told I was the normal one. The one with no mental health problems and no trauma and no abuse and nothing. I'm perfectly fine. The addiction to SH was manipulative attention seeking. The starvation was "survivors guilt" bc my friends had real problems. My inability to handle existing in normal every day life was laziness.

I lost my entire childhood, so many opportunities, nearly all of my fucking 20s to a god damn eating disorder I was genetically predisposed to and had no control over as I was left to rot alone by the people who should've been in charge of my well being.

I'm 27 years old and feel like I've only just now opened my fucking eyes and I'm so mad and scared and disappointed. What do I do now. I have nothing.

How the fuck do I recover from an eating disorder no one ever knew I had. Especially as a fat person. I don't know where to even start

#tw ED talk #mental health #its just endless whinging about some major life altering realixations ppease skip #SORRY FOR PUTTING THIS ON MAIN HONESTLY I JUST CANT DISCUSS IT ANYWHERE ELSE

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bismuthburnsblue · 1 year

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today on endlessly jumping between projects: i am going to (finally) start on the robe!

im hoping to knock out the mock up real quick (fingers Crossed)- i debated if i even needed to do one but i figured itd be far easier to trial it in calico rather than the taffeta of the lining

im starting with the pattern by @vincentbriggs found here, but im gonna make some immediate changes for ease of sewing/to fit my body better/maximum volume

those changes are:

widening the back to the width of my fabric, and making relevant adjustments to the front also

adding more touch more length to sleeves (not sure ill keep this, but i figure its easier to make them smaller than add on)

height; obviously- im aiming for around ankle length, long, but still a practical length to throw on any time

i imagine im going to need at least one more round of changes after this- some things im not touching right now will need changing after the mock up (collar length im expecting for example) but im hoping that i can go straight from there into the actual fabrics!

im also contemplating a closure for the robe- obviously the original robe does not close, but i would like the option to securely wrap it around myself. at the moment, im simply thinking a belt- itll be by far the easiest option, i wouldnt even need belt loops or anything. the alternative options i was considering were a hook and bar or even a magnet- i like how subtle a change they would be, and that they would be fixed onto the robe unlike the belt idea, but honestly a belt would be just as secure and far easier (maybe ill do both options?)

#ive discussed this all a bit on my main already but im going for mostly screen accurate here!#ive changed the lining colour to a darker pink though #and ive had a hell of a time finding the right orange for the piping so im going for a fuchsia instead (also a nod to the original lining)#the depression robe #also im not. Technically starting it now i gotta finish boring shit first but. tonight #maybe tomorrow if i absolutely crash tonight (an option- mental health dudes)#but i WILL bang out this mock up tonight

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ranboolivesaysstuff · 8 months

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IMPORTANT POST PLEASE READ

Im gonna be honest and open for a sec, and please do not take this as "oh I HATE my community or I dont like the people who watch me" but honestly as of late (and I did highlight this during the mcc bit), ive felt like I havent been able to really be in my own community simply because of the constant way that "discourse" is handled. Making vague posts and not really tackling issues in a good way, all that is going to do is just show people a big "THIS COMMUNITY BAD" sign and not actually help anything within the community, all its going to do is have the good and potentially good people leave or not join in the first place. The way that discourse is treated that ive seen has been the main reason why I have started to try to distance myself, which has been the most heartbreaking thing I have had to do. I want problems to be solved in a mature, civil way, with either a dm or a reply, not an entire vague thing that only says "bad things are happening" and doesnt elaborate on anything or barely elaboratesa and only gives people on both the inside and outside a bad sign of what the community is. Making posts whenever something happens being like "here we go again" is only going to highlight the wrong things, and actually DOESNT help the issue at all! The problems should be discussed directly with the people who are doing said problems FIRST! Bring attention to behaviors and things that arent good DIRECTLY! And also, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO!!! It is not your duty as a viewer or fan of me to be involved in any of this if you do not want to! Just enjoy the content and make silly posts! As someone who constantly tried to fix and get into every problem as it was happening, it took a huge toll on my mental health, and I want you guys to just be able to enjoy the content without having to worry about what you say about it! Be constructive! Dont make posts again just being like "wow this community is so bad" because that doesnt solve literally anything! If you have enough passion to make the posts saying "wow this community is bad" then only post about that, you are only spreading that negative message, and not uplifting anything of actual value! And if the person you are trying to help is not willing or not listening, BLOCK! MUTE! DONT BRING MORE ATTENTION TO THE PERSON IF THEY ARE NOT BEING A GOOD PART OF THE COMMUNITY!!!! I know I say that if I see problems I will call them out, but I shouldnt have to babysit every single time a thing happens within the community as that just isnt a healthy way for a creator or a community to be handled. This does not mean that I do not care about the issues or dont want them fixed, rather it shouldnt take me having to make some grand statement every single time something happens it should take only your own self reflection and self awareness. And to add onto this, make sure that every once in a while no matter who you are you think and have that self reflection, you should be open to being willing to learn and grow as a person! And again, I do NOT want anyone taking this as "Wow this community is terrible" but rather that we just have things that need to be fixed and changed and THAT IS OKAY! I do not hate the community, I care so much about it that I want it to be a silly place for my content again! I want it to be the reason why people get into what I do because of it again! And I want to be able to just have fun and relax without having to worry about how every single thing that I may say could have someone stirring things up that simply dont help or solve anything! Take care of yourselves. And this isnt coming from a place of "I hate the community as a whole" but rather again I want to be able to exist and make content that we can all enjoy without having to worry about walking on eggshells around me or around eachother! At the end of the day im just a fella that wants to make silly videos for you all, and you are people who enjoy said videos. Nothing more. Nothing less.

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scorpihoe1111 · 2 months

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Astrology Observations: Part 3🎀🩷

Mars aspecting the ASC can give the individual a dominating demeanor, but also mainly depends on which aspect. Ex: Harmonius Aspects (trine/sextile)=Straightforward, honest, stand their ground, strong boundaries, not one to be pushed around. Harsh Aspects (square/opp)= Aggressive, domineering, rude, blunt, obnoxious.

(TW: Death) Your 8H sign and planet may tell you how you pass away. Ex: Gemini moon in the 8H= Lungs, breathing problems, asthma. Moon= emotional turmoil, stress, heart break etc

Asteroids like Medusa (149) or Aphrodite (1388) can show you what people envy about you, what they admire, where they may attempt to bring you shame etc. Ex: Medusa in the 1H can attract envy over their appearance, their aura and demeanor. People could attempt to “humble” these individuals often. Aphrodite in the 2H can make others admire your money, your possessions, may wanna know how you have what you have so they can have it too.

Aphrodite (1388) can result in people not just admiring wherever the house it’s in, but also being malicious and petty over it since they feel they deserve it more.

Lilith in the houses is similar to this, and can result in those around you being annoyed when you do things in regards to the house and sign it is in. Ex: Sagittarius Lilith in the 2H= people could be upset when you relax, when you have fun, when you don’t play by made up rules and standards, when you’re genuinely happy, when you have nice things, when you take a break, when you indulge etc, because they have this mindset of “I never got to do that/have that, why should you”. Lilith in the 1H= people getting annoyed that you may be beautiful and they’re not, painting you as a villain because you’re pretty.

Cancer moons are surprisingly really good with holding boundaries with people in their lives. These people can be lover girls/boys, for sure; but they refuse to let people take advantage of them. Their love, effort and care is reserved for those who will appreciate them in return.

(TW: Mental Health) Take this with a grain of salt since it’s just an observation and not a fact, but those I’ve met with a combo of Scorpio/Gemini in personal planets in a chart are usually diagnosed with BPD, while those I’ve met with either Virgo/Aries/Gemini in a chart combined have usually been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder/OCD. 12H and 8H stelliums I’ve also met have had some sort of mental illness such as BPD or Schizophrenia.

Jupiter in the 1H, Sag/Pisces risings and/or Jupiter aspecting ASC/personal planets usually manage to get out of difficult situations easily. These people easily attract the help they need, the resources to do what they need, the money to get them where they want to be; very easily. Even when people with these placements/aspects get in trouble they usually manage to make it out very easily as well. Jupiter blesses and makes lucky anything it touches.

People think that Mercury in the 1H might usually talk alot about themselves, and while that may be true; it’s also true that they simply attract people who love to know about them and ask questions in regards to them. Mercury 1H individuals seem to be interesting to others and peak others curiosity about them. Others find them fascinating, thus constantly asking questions about them.

On the other hand, Mercury 3H individuals may be very close with their siblings, or their siblings can be popular/known/famous which could make the 3H person known for their siblings. This results in the 3H person consistently hearing about their siblings, getting asked questions or discussing topics in regards to their siblings. Same thing with school, this person may have either really good or really bad grades in regards to school so their main conversations with others could be in regards to school topics.

A Virgo rising individual at their worst can be obsessed with popularity/attention/validation (Leo 12H) amongst their peers. They may not come off that way, and they themselves may not even know that they secretly love being in the center. Without realizing, they subconsciously try their hardest to be the best at everything, the smartest, the prettiest/handsomest, and when at their lowest they have no issue with taking down others who they deem threatening to their spotlight. They can also be secretly judgmental of those who they deem to be lesser, or not as attractive than they are.

Similarly, I’ve noticed Scorpio Risings at their worse can be very jealous and insecure individuals as well when it comes to appearances/validation. I’ve noticed this in women with this placement mostly, but when they’re at their lowest/undeveloped, they’re the type to only be friends with or surround themselves around people they think are worse than they are whether appearance, status, popularity wise etc. Undeveloped Scorpio rising females can be very competitive and refuse to have someone who’s possibly better than they are around them, since they don’t want to be compared to the other person or not chosen/not the favorite.

Libra moon’s are the people that start the drama and then say “I don’t like drama” lol. What they really mean is they love it, as long as they’re not involved

If you find that you always have bad experiences with those whose signs fall in your 11H, check your sidereal chart. Odds are your 11H sign in your western chart is the 12H sign in your sidereal, which would explain the bad experiences.

Aquarius women are always so successful in everything they do, I’ve rarely met an Aquarius woman that doesn’t have their shit together in every category. They’re giving face, body, money, career, healthy love life and social life etc. The men on the other hand…

Yes, those with Saturn in the 7H have a hard time finding the one. They go through years of cycles and repetitive situations in love but those who find their person find their FOREVER person. People with this placement may be the last to be in a relationship/get married amongst their peers, however they’re usually the happiest and most successful once they do compared to friends or family who just hurried up and settled and usually separate/divorce. Saturn 7H’s standards and boundaries may also seem to high or unrealistic to those around them, but they’re just asking for bare minimum. It only seems that way to others around them because they were raised in a group or environment that had no standards low key.

The good thing about 2H stelliums is that you attract money, possessions and success super easily. The bad thing is that those around you could ONLY see you as your success/money, and may try to bleed you dry of what you have and take advantage. Strong boundaries and not being overly giving is recommended with these placements.

Mars in the 12H can attract people who are secretly aggressive or hostile towards them. They may never know someone is holding a grudge on them and they may attract secret animosity or competition as a result. May have issues with male figures in their life and won’t even know it.

Jupiter in the 6H, especially with Cancer or Libra there; get along with animals sooo well. These are literal pet whisperers and it’s rare for them to not have at least 3 cats/dogs. They love animals more than people sometimes.

Part 4 will be out soon. 👏🏻

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camellia-thea · 2 years

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vent

i am just. so fucking exhausted. of just existing. not even in a suicide way, just in a 'literally every part of my life right now makes me tired, even things i genuinely love' and i am already dealing with a chronic condition that makes my cells not produce energy correctly.

this semester has been. a lot. just. a lot. and i've been holding it together really well, honestly. genuinely think i've done as well as i could do but i just. i don't have the space anymore. i was hoping i could hold out until i'd gotten my portfolio done but just. fuck. holy shit. there is just too much in my head right now and there is literally nothing that's making it quiet anymore. normally i can just distract myself until either it punches me in the gut and i have to deal with it (eventually meaning it's quiet), or i ignore it enough and it goes away (look i'm great at coping okay this is a fine system) but i just. this hasn't, and it's just kind of sitting on the horizon and i know i'm not going to notice it's closer til i'm stuck in the middle of it with no way to deal.

i've been dealing with my ed a lot, and finally actually kind of brought it up with people, and i'm worried about my finances in regards to food because i cannot make rent this year without just. fucking over my food budget, which would be fine if i was paying for my own food, because i know how much i eat and i know how much i can spend, but i share with my flatmates in a shared meal system which worked fine before but i've spent so much money this year just trying to make it feel okay to live that i cannot keep paying as much as i do for the food i'm eating (very little.)

((and i fucking know my eating habits are terrible okay i eat approximately a meal (and a half?) a day, maybe more on a day where i'm doing things and need the brainpower and my cal count is low if i do try to calculate it (rare, like, once a month), and most of that is covered by the amount of tea i drink))

but i cannot afford what we purchase and i don't have solutions that don't, y'know, make it super super obvious how little i'm eating, and like, i know i'm not super subtle but like. still doesn't feel great airing it out, but i eat maybe a quarter of what i pay for which is. a good fifty to seventy a week, sometimes less which is great but y'know. i can make a decent meal for about five to ten nz d, and have it last multiple days. last year my costs were mostly snacks and i ate more and spent less than i do now. i don't have a good solution but i'm living on more than i can afford to spend, and like, i was concerned beforehand but now i'm genuinely going to hit 0 nz d before exam season is done. and before i was like 'oh, y'know, i'll have a couple of hundred to go into next year with but it'll be fine because i'll snag course related and living costs with summer school' nope. no that's not the case. i've been calculating every so often to double check and this is just. ahhhhhhh. i'm so fucking stressed about it and that's just. underlying literally everything i do.

and i've tried to bring it up in a way that doesn't just. completely fuck over our system because it works super well for the other three and that's amazing for them but it's genuinely fucked me over so much in the last six months because like. okay, rough calculations; 50 a week per person, i eat, let's be generous and say half of what i pay for. that's 200 a month that i am sinking down the drain that i *cannot* afford. and i'm often paying more than that and eating less. and that adds up. lets say four months; that's 800. that i could use to cover the cost of my medication. i get 280 from the gov. and i pay 220 rent a week. that's 60 left over. i pay 50 a month for my meds, now more because my new meds are 35 per repeat, which makes that 85 a month total. i pay. a lot more to, just. live. and my budget *still* doesn't cover my meds, and i'm not going to make that calculation, because it terrifies me too much to check.

and it isn't my flatmates fault at all, and i'm not saying it is in any way and i don't think it is either and i need to make that completely clear, but this is not sustainable for me, nor the continual panic attack i'm having.

and the biggest issue is that i just. do not have a solution for this. there is no way i can just say some magic words and we'll get a new system that perfectly covers how much we pay for based on how much we eat. that's just. not possible at all.

and i know my ed is probably making the me worse, god do i know, but i genuinely cannot find the energy to care or change it. ironic as it might be for the illness called chronic fatigue syndrome. and it's morbid and horrible and i should feel bad for thinking it but honestly. sometimes my brain says if this got worse then maybe it'd make things more simple. i'd drop uni and most likely go back home to my parents, which wouldn't be ideal and i really don't think living with them would be great, but i wouldn't have the same stresses. food payments wouldn't be on my mind, honestly my diet would probably improve, and i wouldn't be dealing with uni stress in the same way either. i'd honestly, probably recover a bit and actually have time and energy to try and take care of myself.

and i had a health scare where i was maybe 90 percent sure i'd have to go to the ER because of heart palpitations, and i was genuinely concerned i was having a heart attack, and i know that healthy nineteen year olds don't have them but i'm *not* healthy, i have a chronic health condition, an ed, and a history of heart problems within my family, like it's a reasonable conclusion to jump to when your heart is skipping multiple beats and not beating in sync correctly. but i couldn't make myself convey how concerned i was.

and i mean, on top of my teetering mental health, declining physical health, and perpetual state of anxiety, losing my great uncle was just. fucking awful. there are no words for how horrible it felt and i have not been able to properly grieve him since the funeral. i have cried perhaps three times and i just. i just want to fucking break, i need to just. feel and break. but i just. can't. there is a dam somewhere and i've been waiting for it to crack but it just won't and it makes me want to scream.

i don't think i can properly talk about that loss yet, and it hurts. it hurts so bad but i'm not grieving in a way that feels like grief. it's an ache that someone is missing but it isn't. it isn't crying at a funeral, it isn't mourning him and the moments i'll never get, my sister will never get, my dad will never get, my grandfather will never get. i feel so awful for my grandfather because he was flying from england to new zealand to see his brother, with the thought that it'd be their last time seeing each other and ross died just over a month beforehand. i cannot fathom how awful that is for him, but i can't actually express it in a way that feels like i'm actually feeling things. i'm in this awful state of numbness that i've been feeling for almost two months and i hate that i'm making it all about me. i hate it. i recognise it isn't productive at all.

i feel like i've been holding myself together by the skin on my teeth, and beneath all the numbness and exhaustion, i'm terrified it's going to make my illness worse, make my life just. fall apart. and i'm just a nineteen year old trying so hard to be a functioning adult but i couldn't even finish highschool without everything falling apart around me, and what the fuck made me think i'd actually function properly.

i just. i'm stuck waiting. because these problems don't have direct immediate solutions. i'm waiting to crash, i'm waiting to break a part, and i know they'll be mixed, and i'm just going to be stuck with the anxiety of everything else underneath til it happens, and there is no good time for it to happen in the next two weeks, which of course means it's going to happen at the worst moment, which makes me more stressed.

#tw death #tw disordered eating #tw mental health #just yknow. general vent warning #the ed talk is... a lot i'm sorry i just need it out of my head #no numbers mentioned but there's some discussion of amounts eaten #honestly this whole thing is a lot #there's a lot of talk about budgets in here too because that's. the main thing i'm worried about right now #and like. this isn't a plea for help or aid #i just need to put thoughts *somewhere* into the void so that things are felt #and i know i have more things to say but i've been writing this on and off for two hours in between my maybe eight hour panic attack #yeah i dunno i'm sorry this is a lot and just. yeah.

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astroninaaa · 3 months

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wtf is going on with cellbit - by a brazilian law major student

hey besties ever since the day cellbit released that PDF i’ve been keeping up with his shit bc as a law student (only two years to go!!!!) in brazil it’s kinda really interesting to see how it goes, specially since i don’t think we’ve ever had this sort of judicial action taken by an internet celebrity, like, ever. so i’ve decided to kinda explain what’s going on. if anyone has any questions after this i’d be really up to talk about it i love talking about law 🫶 xoxo let’s start. also sorry if anything reads weird english is not my native language okay

for those who don’t know, very recently, a judicial action taken by cellbit has made public. in this action, he’s suing over 200 people for the crime of defamation.

the action was taken to court in january, but it was under what we call “secret of justice”, which means only cellbit himself and twitter’s lawyers had access to it. now that there have been decisions by the judge and everything, the process’s been made public.

basically, cellbit started an action against twitter (NOT THE PEOPLE WHO COMMITTED THE CRIME YET), citing a little over 200 tweets that accused him of crimes like SA, psychological abuse, pedophilia, and others. all of those are real crimes in brazil — and accusing someone of committing crimes (specially as awful crimes as those) without proof is a crime in itself (defamation). he claimed that the tweets were harmful to his honor, mental health, and reputation, besides categorizing as defamation, since there’s no investigation going on against him for all these infractions he’s being accused of.

with that, he asked twitter to delete all the tweets, and to provide him with the personal information of said twitter accounts so he can sue them directly for defamation. he did these requests through something called “tutela cautelar”, which means the judge gets to decide whether or not twitter has to do these things before proof production and proper investigation, since, if twitter doesn’t do those things, the damage to his honor and reputation will be ongoing + he won’t be able to sue the proper people in time.

the judge conceded to his requests, and twitter has already deleted all the tweets. the main discussion going right now is wtf do they do about the international accounts — does our law apply to them? what’s gonna happen? we don’t know yet. that’s being discussed in court for the moment and, considering brazilian courts, it might take quite a while.

so, yeah, all those people aren’t being sued YET. but they will, probably somewhat soon.

it’s also important to mention that this lawsuit is from january and was only now released to the public. there’s probably a lot more coming after the whole fiasco that led him to releasing his statement, including a lawsuit against his ex herself.

now, other topics — could he sue other twitter accounts for cyber bullying or death threats? probably, but my personal opinion is that suing for defamation and focusing on accounts that were accusing him of having committed crimes was a much better move because it’s a much stronger case.

there’s very little room for discussion when a person has outright said “cellbit committed this crime”. death threats have more room for discussion: “oh, but they’re hundreds of miles away, it wasn’t a serious threat”, “they didn’t mean it”, “it was a joke”. same thing goes for cyberbullying: it can get too subjective.

defamation isn’t subjective. you accuse someone of a crime they didn’t commit? boom, defamation, at least according to our laws. so, to me, personally, it makes a LOT of sense for his lawyers to focus on that: he’s a LOT more likely to win than if he was suing for cyberbullying, threatening, insult, or any of that. also, he’s a lot more likely to win FASTER.

when he gets to sue the actual people who committed the crime, that is. for now, he’s only requested twitter to give him the necessary information to get to these people, which i think they’ll very likely be obligated to do. there are digital data protection laws in brazil, but a crime is a crime. digital data protection isn’t gonna protect you from the court.

another thing: LGPD (brazil’s general law of personal data protection) forces all social media companies to keep records of all the content posted by their users for AT LEAST six months. many companies keep it for way longer. that’s a law created for judicial purposes, in case something published to twitter, facebook, or instagram needs to be analysed by a court. that’s why even tho twitter has deleted the tweets, they still have them, and why it doesn’t matter if the people responsible are deleting the tweets, the accounts, the fucking app itself. the records are still there, and they will be used judicially.

i think that’s the overall for the situation, but i’m willing to answer any questions and to discuss it if anyone wants to! i’m a big law enjoyer. also personally i think cellbit is so fucking right for this like YEAH people don’t get to commit fucking crimes on twitter and get away with it. really interested in how this is gonna go law-wise, but in general also really glad to see someone take action like this.

#cellbit #qsmp #cellbit qsmp

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sexybabystevie · 2 years

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sometimes i really wish i would have spoken up when i was younger so that i could have gotten help sooner. because now i feel too old and i also feel like there’s nothing i can so at the moment to afford and/or fix the things that are bothering me.

like, for example, i have a lot of issues with doors slamming and with stomping. not gonna go into detail of why but it’s bad enough to put me in a panic attack, especially if it’s at night, and there’s a lot of door slamming in my dorm hall. :/ it makes me feel so bad because it’s literally not that loud and doesn’t bother anyone else but for me it makes me so anxious and i’m not really going to ask anyone to try not to when it just sounds like i’m being bitchy :// i genuinely like most of the girls on this floor and i don’t wanna make any bad impressions either

#discussion of vague mental health stuff below!! please be cautious #tw mentally ill #em speaks #just a general case of probably tmi but!! this is my main as well as writing so i generally post whatever i want #mild vent #ish #sorry!!#i'm just kinda talking

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carolmunson · 1 year

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always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time.

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’ ‘And? It’s my meat.’

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste.

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half. "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides.

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week.

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.”

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down. “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.”

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge.

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.”

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy.

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts between statements.

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?”

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?”

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.”

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?”

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn.

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?”

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled.

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo. “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.”

thanks for reading. <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic

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