#"PTSD triggers and symptoms"

[onefite]

10 Common Symptoms of a Mental Breakdown

10 Common Symptoms of a Mental Breakdown Introduction Feeling overwhelmed or having a tough time coping? You’re not alone. Many of us go through periods where it feels like the world is crashing down around us. This state often signals a mental breakdown, a term that describes a period of intense mental distress. During this time, managing day-to-day tasks can feel impossible. By understanding…

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[steviebbboi]

Good For It

Pairing: Ari Levinson x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.1k~ (no idea how this happened) 🫣

Summary: Ari was deeply misunderstood by everyone except you. What happens when someone tries to hurt the one person he cares about the most?

Disclaimer: This is my submission for @stargazingfangirl18 writing challenge, "Siri's Birthday Bonenanza"~ Thank you to Siri for hosting this, and hoping that you all enjoy this as much I loved writing it :)

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; Mentions/threats of violence, mentions of drugging reader (not by Ari), mentions of sexual harassment (again, not by Ari), explicit language, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, PTSD-like symptoms, Lumberjack!Ari, Veteran!Ari.

Prompts: Ari Levinson x F!Reader feat. Bryce Langley (not involved with Reader at all) + "The moment you or babe realize you’re in love with the other" + "Scary!babe is in love and a simp for you" + "Playful trolling/banter"

Quote Prompts: “Why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” + “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” + “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. + “Can you just…hold me, please?”

Trope Prompt: Scary, dangerous!babe who is only soft with you

Kink(s) Prompt: Size kink + Praise kink + Squirting + Manhandling +soft!dom (ish) + Possessive!babe + breeding (ish?)

Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~

Rowdy laughter and the clinking of glasses came into earshot as you pushed the bar doors open. You greeted the bouncer as you usually did and gave a quick scan of the back of the bar. Once you found who you were looking for, you felt your lips quirk into a small smile as you headed toward the back.

Ari Levinson, the local town recluse with only four friends (including yourself and the bouncer-ish). He’s a retired military veteran and is known as “that weird, scary dude who lives alone up in the mountains.” To be fair, the town’s whispered descriptions of him were not entirely inaccurate.

You could feel the regular, daily stares coming in hot as you continued walking toward the back booths. Although you were used to it at this point, you could feel yourself becoming more tense as the whispers started to creep through.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you passed by one woman in particular who seemed to always let out a muttered comment under her breath—all synonymous with criticism that you never took lightly.

“Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’ll end up in the morgue someday.”

“He just has her wrapped around his finger, huh? Someone should say something.”

“You know he almost beat a guy to death a year ago. What is a sweet girl like her doing with a guy like him?”

“Nobody told her to leave the undesirables alone.”

Any and all comments surrounding Ari’s character felt crushing every time you heard them. In the beginning of your relationship with Ari, you used to cry yourself to sleep every night because some of the comments were so scathing. All these people were just judging you because you were with a person that you deeply cared about.

Ari would be there every night to soothe you (he didn’t care as much about what others said). He would wipe your tears by holding your face in his big hands and kiss you until you couldn’t remember what you were crying about in the first place.

See, there are things that people don’t know about Ari. They judged him based on his background and one incident at the mill. He was hulking over everyone at 6'5", his stature and demeanor a bit more closed off and quiet. When people tried to say hi to him, he would give them a small grunt and continue on his way. He wasn’t a small man by any means, emotionally or physically (of which, your size difference is something you both indulge in, in many ways).

The problem was that they only saw and perceived things from the surface. They didn’t see all of the qualities underneath that make him so desirable, wanted, and valuable to you. With Ari, you felt protected, safe, and secure in ways that you had never experienced before. You never felt disrespected by him in the slightest. People didn’t see that, even through his dark aimless stares or quiet mumbles and grumbles, he still cared and was incredibly kind.

One day, you were working furiously on your laptop as you sat on Ari’s couch. Your work was demanding, and more often than not, you would work your remote 9-to-5 job straight through without taking care of yourself. Ari only ever gazed at you with curiosity and never said anything about it. Although you could tell from his stare that he disapproved of your self-negligence. The next time you sat working, Ari placed some dinner on the coffee table in front of you. The smell of the hot, homemade food made your tummy rumble as you stopped typing after four hours of working nonstop to look up at him with surprise.

“Eat,” Ari said simply and reached out to stroke the exposed skin peeking out from underneath the blanket on top of you before heading back to the kitchen. You usually wouldn’t let anything get in the way of your work, but his act of care was so wholesome and precious that you stopped and ate the whole thing.

Ari came back once you were finished to sit down next to you under the blanket with a book. He made an effort to get comfortable by placing his large, calloused hand on your inner thigh underneath your now-shared afghan before getting back to his reading. You could only stare at him, astonished by how this beefy, quiet giant of a man managed to not only get you to pause your work but also make you eat (disrupting your chain of focus and habits was not an easy feat, just ask your ex-partners). He let out another deep grumble when you kissed his bearded cheek with a soft thank you as you put away your laptop and leaned into his shoulder to read with him.

It was then that you realized Ari, depicted as this scary, violent, tainted, isolated person, was deeply misunderstood.

It was also the moment that you realized you were deeply in love with him.

Coming out of your reverie, you let out the tension that had been carried in your chest as you saw your man start to turn as you finally approached the booth. Your soft smile turned into a genuine grin when your eyes met his. You greeted Sammy (his third friend) as you went to scoot next to Ari. You put an arm around him to give a gentle rub on his large back while giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. As usual, he gave you a quiet, deep mumble of acknowledgement but proceeded to put his muscular arm around you protectively, giving you the opportunity to place the hand that had been shoved to your side around his thick, jean-clad thigh.

“What are we talking about?” You engaged Sammy first, knowing that Ari would likely be more of an active listener, as he usually was.

Sammy and Ari were in service together, along with Rachel (the bartender and the fourth friend, completing the group). Ari was noticeably relaxed with them, as he was with you, but you had no idea how they got the man to talk. You heard stories of their time in active duty, but they never went beyond surface-level details. You knew Ari had done some dangerous work during his time in the military; he never really talked about it, but you could surmise that he was still recovering from it, especially since that incident a year ago.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Rachel threw beer on a guy who was trying to score free drinks by hitting on her,” Sammy said with a smirk.

You laughed freely. “Man, I wish I had been there to see it! Some newbie at the office messed something up, and who has to fix it? Me, of course.” You rolled your eyes and put a hand to your forehead to rub away the fatigue.

“Did you eat, baby?” Ari cut in quietly. You turned to meet his concerned gaze and gave him a soft smile with a rub to his knee. “Yes, honey. I was able to have my assistant run out to grab some grub. Don’t worry.”

He gave another affirmative grunt with a nod and shifted to hand you a beer that was hidden at the end of the table. You huffed out a quiet laugh before giving him one last squeeze on the knee before reaching for the drink gratefully. Of course, Ari had already gotten you a drink but only gave it to you after you gave your daily report. He was always looking after you.

“When are they going to gear up and give you that promotion?” Sammy asked, shaking his head.

You gave a despondent shake before sighing. “You know, they’re a small company. I think we’re understaffed as it is right now. That’s why these new hires keep making these small mistakes.”

“Aaaand that’s why they need to promote you to manager, to teach some sense into ‘em! Ari’s always sayin’ you’d be a great supervisor.” He replied with an encouraging smile.

Now you were the one letting out a small questioning mumble while looking down at your drink bashfully. You felt Ari stroke the back of your arm with a firm gentleness, and you knew it really meant, “Yes, you do deserve more.” 

This kind of touch was often a reminder for you to believe in yourself and that you deserved better things (a tough job for your ex-partners, you might add). Ari had seemingly broken a cycle for you, helping you genuinely care about yourself in a way you hadn’t before. (All the ways he protects you are just sickeningly cute, aren’t they?)

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gave Sammy a stronger “hm” in response and said, “I know. I mean, when will these bastards just wake up?”

Sammy gave a shout of laughter and a “hell yeah”  before giving you another supportive response. You turned to Ari briefly to give him another smile of appreciation, only to notice that he was already looking at you. But the glint in his eyes… you hadn’t seen that before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Sammy announcing he was going back to the bar for another drink.

The two of you were now alone, just observing each other. A shiver ran down your spine at his piercing gaze as you asked quietly, “Everything okay, honey?”

At your reserved tone, Ari gave you a subtle, tilted smile. “I love you,” he said simply.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your eyes widen at his surprise revelation. You knew that you loved Ari, maybe even before you realized it yourself. There were many ways the two of you showed your love and care for each other—from cooking food for each other to gentle caresses during more intimate moments. However, this was the first time either of you had ever said it out loud.

Now you were the one stumbling over your words, struggling to respond, swallowing thickly as you tried to say it back. It’s not that you felt you couldn’t, but the man had just revealed that he loved you, in a bar no less! The guy was usually full of grumbles, deep hums, and mumbles. You never would have expected him to reveal something so vulnerable and intimate in an environment like this. You figured your actions would be proof enough, and that was okay with you. You accepted that about Ari—you never expected him to actually say it.

At your floundering, Ari had a full-on smirk on his handsome face. He seemed to appreciate how the tables had turned. You stopped your mumbles once you saw his reaction to your shock and squinted your eyes in fake indignation. His smirk only grew wider, the glint you noticed earlier now turning into an affectionate mirth that you knew Ari reserved just for you.

“Damn him and his sexy, lumberjack hotness,” you thought to yourself. You and Ari both knew you loved it when he teased you like this. You pretended to be upset, but it was all part of how well the two of you bantered throughout your relationship.

Most of your relationship involved speaking in a language your friends couldn’t quite understand, which only played into the image of how polar opposites you two were. But you and Ari reveled in it, just like Ari was now. You were more embarrassed at being caught stumbling on your words, and felt the need to beat him in your little game. The man hadn’t even said anything in the past minute, and he was already winning. He knew how you felt about him; it was just fun for him to see you all flustered.

“HA– alright, Mr. Grumbles. I’m going to get us some more drinks. Did you want anything else?” you said begrudgingly while gathering your glasses to bring back to the bar.

“No, baby. Sammy said he was going to get us some, though.” Ari conceded his smirk (and victory). Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—Sammy came up behind you to slide back into the booth, but with only one drink in his hand. You and Ari stared at him and then looked back at the beer with questioning eyes.

Sammy got comfortable and noticed both of your stares only when he realized that nobody was talking. Glancing down at his own drink, then toward your empty glasses, and back to your amused stares again, he muttered abashedly, “You didn’t say I had to get you another drink too.”

You let out a small giggle and looked back at Ari again to repeat, “Did you want anything else, baby?”

Ari responded with the same amusement in his tone. “No, love.” He grinned back at you as he said the endearment, which only furthered your fake ire. You pouted your lips in playful anger and met his beguiled stare with your own before standing up from the booth.

As you gathered the empty glasses again, you saw Ari attempting to grab them from you as he also stood up from his seat.

“No– don’t worry, Ari. I’ve got it,” you reassured him, but he ignored you and responded only with a grunt. He proceeded to scoot out of the small booth, hunched over the table.

Letting the glasses go, you pressed down on Ari’s shoulders hard to shove him back into his seat. His eyes widened in surprise at the forceful touch as he sat back down, but you knew you hadn’t hurt him. If anything, he lurched back from you since he didn’t want to bump into you while attempting to get out.

“Goddammit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” you scolded him in feigned anger. You grabbed the glasses quickly and scurried away before he could respond. You only heard him and Sammy laughing at your retreat before the chatter from the other end of the bar became more prominent as you approached.

Setting the two glasses down on an empty section of the bar top, you leaned over slightly to catch Rachel’s perceptive gaze. She nodded with a smile on her face as she made you two new drinks. Glancing around the rest of the bar with mild interest, you couldn’t help but reflect on Ari’s intimate reveal.

A smile spread onto your lips, and you let out a small laugh to yourself. You were in love with a man who communicated with short hums and grunts, and with only three words—he had unraveled you. You felt so happy in that moment to be with someone who could meet you where you were, for once.

At first, you were intimidated by the looming lumberjack, but as you got to know each other, you grew to understand that he didn’t need big, fancy words to connect with you. Ari was the kind of partner who was straightforward with you and never hid anything maliciously while still respecting the integrity of your relationship. You felt grateful to be a part of each other’s lives.

Floating mindlessly in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man staring at you across the bar. You also didn’t notice him approaching until you heard him say, “Hey there, what are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

Glancing over, the giddiness you felt thinking about your relationship with Ari was now interrupted by feelings of annoyance and suspicion. “I’m good, thanks,” you responded dismissively, not even bothering to answer his question.

“Aw, c’mon—just wanna talk a bit. Hey, are you with anyone right now?” the guy persisted.

Looking at the intrusive person, you could tell he was a bit younger than you. His polo shirt was disheveled, and his demeanor seemed careless. If his side-swept hair wasn’t an indication of his immaturity, it was the way he reeked of alcohol and weed. A smug smile lifted on his face as he assumed you were checking him out, when in reality, you were trying to piece together how to shut this down and walk around him on your way back to the booth.

“Uh, I am. Just waiting for our drinks,” you answered shortly, hoping your dismissiveness would be enough to make him go away. Heckling men never seem to take the hint when you’re not interested, and it seems like telling them off only riles them up more.

“Well, if I were your friend, I certainly wouldn’t have let you come up here by yourself. There are some weirdos out here, y’know?” He leaned onto the bar and into you, his body too close for comfort. You leaned back and crossed your arms defensively.

“I’m sorry—let me? Listen, kid—you got one thing right: there are weirdos out here. Almost like some weirdos just don’t seem to get the hint when they’re harassing women who only want to be left alone by the bar.” You couldn’t hold in your snark as this misogynistic asshole seemed to only smile wider at your reactions.

“Right! That’s why you’re lucky I’m here, sweetheart. Considering that I’m being so helpful by giving you this piece of advice, I think that now makes us friends.” He laughed, ignoring your irritation.

“Everything okay here?” You looked up to find Rachel putting down the newly made beers while looking the stranger dead in the eyes. You could see him squirm a bit, and you stifled a giggle—you were always amused to see her put men in their place.

“It’s okay, Rach. I’m heading back to those two dummies, anyway.” You left some bills on the counter. Rachel gave you a look since she always insisted drinks were on the house for you, but you never really listened. She took the money anyway, gave the guy one last daggered look, and made a small dismissive sound before leaving to attend to other customers.

Ignoring Rachel’s reaction, he turned to you and said, “Well, where are these two dummies you speak of? Are they cute like you?” He looked over at the general crowd of women lingering behind you.

You cleared your throat at his blatant ignorance. “Actually, my two dummies are over there.” You pointed to the back where Sammy and Ari’s profiles could be briefly seen.

He followed your hand to see the two men sitting there and let out a surprised “ah.” He looked back at you after seeing the men but couldn’t help but do a double take once he recognized one of them.

“Wait, you’re that guy’s friend?” he asked incredulously, looking at you expectantly.

You gave him a warning look and made an affronted sound. “Careful. ‘Friends’ don’t talk to their friends like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You gestured to take your drinks, which seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“Hey, hey—wait! Relax, relax. That just took me off guard, but… I mean, you do know what he did, right?” He gave you the same look others would give you, almost disgusted, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘girl like you’ would be with a ‘guy like him.’

Your eyes narrowed and you huffed an exasperated breath, preparing to retort, but were interrupted by a voice yelling, “Yo, Bryce, hurry up!” You looked to the end of the bar to see another young man in a polo (god, these entitled kids are a dime a dozen) looking over at you. They wore the same cocky, smug smiles, and you were immediately done with this interaction.

Letting out a scoff, you replied, “Well, Bryce, it’s been real. Now, please, leave me alone.” Not mincing words nor your mocking tone, you started to grab your drinks when you froze in place, frowning as you noticed one of your drinks had an abnormal fizz on top.

“Are you kidding me? Did he just…?” Your thoughts felt scattered as you realized that your drink had been spiked. Your frown persisted as you looked back at Bryce in disbelief. “Did you really just do that?”

Bryce looked nonchalant at your question and, almost innocently, responded, “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He had a dopey look on his face, but he couldn’t even hide his rising grin at your growing outrage. You knew you weren’t overreacting and you knew what you saw in your drink.

“You just spiked my drink—what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You accused and turned to catch Rachel’s attention. A strong grip twisted your arm back to Bryce as he looked at you with something completely vile in his eyes. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear with venom as you leaned back and attempted to get his hand off you. “Stuck-up bitch. You know you would’ve been asking for it if you didn’t have your killer boyfriend to cover you.”

Feeling his hot breath in your ear made you panic even more, his unrelenting grip getting tighter by the second. You shouted while trying to push him off you, “Get the fuck off of me! LET GO!”

You flailed your limbs more in your attempts to make a scene. You heard a barstool crash to the ground loudly, and all of a sudden Bryce’s fingers were no longer around your arm. The only thing in your vision was a person’s vast back.

Ari.

Catching your breath from your panic, the sounds of the bar that had seemed to mute during your thrashing suddenly tuned back in. You registered pained groans and the utter silence, yet concerned murmurs scattered across the room. Looking over from behind Ari’s back, you saw Sammy putting a hand in between Ari and Bryce, who was now on the floor, clutching his nose with blood spilling out rapidly.

“You fucking prick! I’ll press charges!” Bryce shouted from the ground as his friends crowded around him, trying to get him up.

Rachel raised her voice to be heard amidst the chaos and said, “I saw what happened, asshole. I’d be happy to call the cops and let them know about you and your buddies’ attempts to sexually harass my customers.”

Bryce, now being held up by his friends, looked over at Rachel menacingly. Rachel didn’t back down and walked towards the phone on the wall. “Shall we?”

Bryce hissed in pain from his new injury and looked back to meet Ari’s stone-cold eyes. Sammy turned to face Bryce and his friends with a look of caution, almost ready to get into a fight if it came to that.

Bryce took a heavy gulp, attempting to stare Ari down with bravado. He then locked his jaw and scoffed, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”

The bouncer suddenly appeared behind you, making you startle slightly, and pushed the group toward the exit. As they got closer, you hid yourself behind Ari’s back and gripped his shirt tightly for comfort. You could feel Ari’s hand reach for your waist, and you assumed he could sense your shaking and wanted to offer you more protection and ease.

In your peripheral vision, you could see and feel Bryce’s eyes staring at you, almost as if he wanted to say one last thing. But Ari’s grip on your waist tightened as he turned to face Bryce directly, orienting you with him and blocking his gaze from you. Though you couldn’t see it, Ari looked deadly in that moment, removing any access Bryce had to your presence.

“If you ever come back in here, and if I ever see you near her again, I will hurt you,” Ari said quietly, but his warning reverberated across the large space. “And you know that I’m good for it.”

Bryce, still clutching his nose, averted his gaze and continued moving toward the exit.

As the group exited, people still looked over but gradually returned to their tables and muttered conversations. The jukebox came back on at a lower volume, and people eventually resumed their activities.

You were still clutching Ari’s back as you released a sigh of relief. You leaned into him, your forehead resting between his shoulders. The adrenaline had left you with residual energy, and it was noticeably hard for you to regulate your emotions. Ari heard you release one more exhale in an attempt to calm down before he turned to meet your tight grip with his strong hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, baby.” He released your hands with one last squeeze and cupped your face sweetly. He whispered more reassurances as he pulled your face close to his and leaned down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sammy, we’re gonna get going.” Ari glanced at the teary-eyed look on your face and knew you couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t have expected you to, either—he was accustomed to chaotic and loud environments, able to regulate during scary situations. Ari knew this was exceptionally jarring for you, and he desperately wanted to protect you from any feelings of unsafety. His priority since you entered his life was to preserve your softness, and if his hard exterior could help do that, he would go to any length to ensure you felt secure with him.

“Of course, check in and get home safe.” You also turned to give Sammy and Rachel a soft smile and a quiet ‘thank you.’ If there was any effort to expend, it would be that.

They returned your smile with reminders to be safe while driving home, and Ari took your small hand in his to lead you to the exit. You both passed by the bouncer, who returned Ari’s thanks for earlier with an affirmative nod and also gave you a parting “feel better.” You muttered your appreciation and clutched Ari’s forearm with your other hand still in his. You felt that if you weren’t right by his side, if he weren’t touching you, the panic would rush back in.

On the car ride back to Ari’s place, you kept yourself as close to him as possible. The truck’s seats facilitated closeness; Ari wrapped his right arm around you protectively while driving with his left.

Ari appreciated that you felt safe with him. Unbeknownst to you, his own panic about losing you crept in whenever you weren’t by his side.

His arm wrapped around you tighter, and his caress provided comfort for him as well during the rest of the ride home.

Later that night, after Ari got out of the shower, you noticed cuts on his knuckles from his punch earlier.

“Ari, why didn’t you say anything earlier? Come here.” You scolded him as you led the giant of a man (a very half-naked, still wet giant of a man—okay, focus) to sit on the toilet seat.

“Baby, it’s fine—” Ari began to say, but you interrupted him, “Honey, let me do this—why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” Ari let out a rare scoffed smile at ​​your dramatic flair before acknowledging you with his usual grunt. You returned his smile and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Ari watched you as you ventured over to the bathroom counter to gather the first aid kit. You were already in your sleep clothes—simple camisole and shorts. Though he remained silent, you could feel his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. You glanced up at the wide mirror and caught him in the act as his gaze lingered a bit too long on your ass. You stifled a small laugh, and his eyes met yours unashamedly.

You turned to walk back over to him, and his eyes never left yours as you took his palm gently between your hands. As you cleaned the small wound, you could feel his gaze burning on your skin. You took your time patching him up, and with the last bandage, you brought his burly hand to your lips, planting a meaningful kiss on his knuckles. Continuing to brush your lips against the back of his hand, you left more kisses until you reached the underside of his wrist.

Ari’s gaze darkened with every peck of affection you left on his clean skin. As you raised his hand to rest it on your cheek, Ari’s other arm wrapped around the low of your waist, pulling you in closer. Deciding you weren’t close enough, you straddled his towel-clad waist. Enjoying the intimacy, you both savored the simplicity of feeling safe in each other’s embrace. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you softly caressed his wet strands of hair away from his face. Tucking your face into the crevice of his neck, you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly, feeling his large hands rub up and down your back. You felt so small enveloped in his arms.

“Look at me, baby,” Ari whispered softly. He laid a calloused hand on your cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. His other arm remained wrapped around you to support you, and he said, “I know that we don’t talk about this often enough, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Ever.”

You gave Ari a confused look. “I know that, Ari. I trust you. I always feel safe with you.” His eyes were full of concern as you rushed to reassure him. Your own hand rested on his bearded cheek. “I know that what happened at the mill last year has lingered a bit.”

He turned his gaze downward until you cooed at him, making him look back at you. “Hey, I know you. I know that you were only doing what you thought was right. At that moment, it was about protecting Sammy. The guy was making threats against you both. It made sense that you went to defend yourself.”

Ari was quiet for a minute. You continued stroking his cheek to let him process. This was a vulnerable conversation for Ari that his usual grunts couldn’t explain.

He broke the silence by saying, “I lied to you.”

Your heart froze, and you felt even more confused. Your hand dropped back down to grip his bulky shoulder. “What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

Ari met your curious gaze with an ashamed look. “He wasn’t making threats against Sammy… he was saying things about you. Us. How a woman like you shouldn’t be with someone like me—‘damaged goods.’”

Lines formed between your eyebrows as you tried to register what Ari was saying. Leaning into your silence, he continued, “Then he started saying that he would be a better fit for you. He talked about all the ways he would treat you better, and then he shoved me and… I just lost it.” Ari’s mouth twisted grimly, and his eyes held a weighted look. “I just… didn’t want to lose you.”

Swallowing thickly, you reflected on that time in your relationship when you heard about Ari being involved in an accident at the mill. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized there had been no accident, and that Ari had put his co-worker in the hospital. Of course, you worried about the implications of his actions and what it would mean for the two of you. At a certain point, you did question your safety with Ari.

But you remembered meeting him at the station when the police let him go due to it being self-defense (and many of Ari’s co-workers, including Sammy, vouching for the incident). He had the same look that he had now—fear.

In that moment, despite what he had done, you knew there was something so strong and willed behind his reaction. He was so protective and gentle with you, and you believed him. You believed that that was the man that you were falling in love with. You just never would have guessed it came from the fear of losing you.

Realizing you had been quiet for a while as you processed your feelings and what you wanted to say, Ari didn’t move from his position. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for your response.

Releasing a slow breath, you cupped Ari’s face in your hands and looked him in the eye. “You protect, Ari, that’s just what you do.”

Ari exhaled in relief and felt a dark weight lift off of his shoulders, his stomach no longer churning, while putting his forehead to your chest. He moved his arms under your butt and lifted you slightly to do this but you embraced him openly. You stroked his hair again as he started kissing your exposed skin above your breast until he was laying a series of soft kisses up your neck. You both knew what his kisses really meant: “I’m sorry, I love you.”

You hummed out a soft moan as his lips found that spot under your ear that felt extra sensitive to his touch. Turning his face to meet your cheek, he tilted his head slightly so that he could finally reach your mouth. You allowed Ari to control the pace of the kiss and moaned when you felt his tongue softly caress yours. 

The tension in the air quickly thickened into something more primal and electric from Ari’s confession. There was something about this huge, strong man protecting only you that made you feel so worshiped and desired. These feelings start to overcome you and you move to sit on top of Ari’s towel-covered erection only to grind yourself down on him. Ari groaned sensually into the kiss at the feeling of delicious pressure sitting on his hard cock. Your mouths continue languidly meeting each other when you let out a squeak from Ari suddenly gripping your thighs tightly to carry you back into the bedroom. 

You released a squeal as Ari threw you on top of the bed before dropping his towel on the floor. Breathing heavier, you backed up on the bed to get a better look at his glorious sculpted figure and Ari only smirked at your hooded eyes gazing all over his body. Standing at the edge of the bed, Ari decided that you were too far away and he gripped your ankle to roughly tug you back towards him. Letting out another brief squeal and giggle, you quickly sought into his rhythm as he kneeled onto the bed. 

His bulking mass overshadowed you as he leaned forward to place more deceivingly gentle kisses upon the exposed skin of your stomach where your tank top rode up. Your stomach fluttered as you could feel his kisses getting wetter, and were leading down towards your cotton-clad pussy. You whined in anticipation as Ari gently tugged off your shorts to reveal your soaking core. 

Ari let out a deep groan at the sight of your pussy weeping for his touch. Using his hands to spread your legs open to make space for his massive stature, you gasped for air even though he has barely touched you. You stroke the hands holding you down and beg, “Ari, please. Please do something.” 

At your begging, Ari released a louder groan this time. “God, baby. Look at you just creaming for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want me to take care of you, sweet girl?” 

He used his forearms to hold your already squirming legs down as he used his thumb to cut through a string of wet and reveal your thrumming pink clit. Not being able to resist his own yearning, he gave a firm lick up your cunt and released a deep groan at the first taste of you on his tongue. “Oh fuck, you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned and went back into your cunt for more. 

You sobbed your pleasure at the feeling of his tongue caressing your wet folds, “Yes, please, Ari– please!” His tongue continued licking all over your pussy while he released his own small moans at the taste of you. He made sure to thrust his tongue into your soaked opening before licking his way back towards your now puffy clit. 

Your moans steadily increased in volume and small, short-bursts of whimpers fell out of your mouth as Ari devoured you. Feeling his lips suction at your clit, you mewl and feel his thick finger start to breach your entrance. Your head fell back on the bed, your mouth agape at the sheer pleasure you were receiving from your man. One hand tightly gripping the sheet next to you and the other wrapped in Ari’s hair as you kept him in place, your hips started to thrust back into his mouth and fingers. Not expecting for you to turn so wildly, Ari’s mouth left your clit unwillingly. Letting out a whine at the loss of warmth, you press down on the back of Ari’s head to get him back into position. 

But all of a sudden, you felt a sharp smack on your ass and you let out a yelp. Ari was still thrusting his finger, and inserting a second one, at a slower pace when he looked up at you. His lips and beard glistened with your wetness when he said darkly, “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. Do you understand me, baby?”

You could only respond with a soft whimper before letting out another cry as he slapped your ass again. “I said, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, Ari, I understand.” You responded with a glazed look in your eye at the combination of pain from his smacks and pleasure from his domineering words. 

“There’s my sweet girl, so good for me.” Ari said before he kissed his way back to your sopping cunt, his fingers thrusting faster now as his mouth created a suction on your clit again. Releasing out a louder cry at the transition, you could feel Ari’s fingers start to push deeper and curve inside of you to find your g-spot. You let out a sharp gasp once you felt him start to stroke that spongy spot over and over again while his tongue started to softly create a rhythmic pattern on your throbbing bud. 

The other thing about your relationship with Ari is that he was the most vocal when you were fucking. He always let you know how you felt around him and freely praised you as you gave each other the most visceral and intense experience. Anticipating more from him, your body rolled with his fingers to get him even deeper inside of you.

Only squeaking out sounds now, your high-pitched tones of pleasure were music to Ari’s ears. Your wet starting to squelch around his fingers and spurt out of you, Ari knew you were almost there. His fingers thrusted faster into you and curved in deeper with each thrust. He groaned, “Hmm, yeah baby? Is this the spot right here?”

You couldn’t conjure up a response as you were only experiencing the immense pleasure that he was giving to you and almost animalistic groans started leaving your throat. Ari looked up to see your head thrown back on the bed and your upper body contorting, your tanktop having ridden up and was now showing your beautiful perky, round breasts. Nipples peaked in heightened pleasure. Witnessing you like this was a privilege for Ari and he never thought you looked more beautiful than when you were writhing for him in the bedroom. 

A deep desire to witness more of you, Ari increased his efforts by pushing down on your tummy just above your mount. “Yeah, that’s the spot. Be a good girl for me, and let me have it. Let go for me.” He breathes against your slit while giving you one last intentional suck and rapid licking at your clit. 

Inhaling sharply, his words were your undoing as you felt that tight knot inside of you tear in ecstasy. Your head tossed back in euphoria as you cum hard, your pussy clenched around his fingers. Though, Ari didn’t stop thrusting his fingers deep inside of you. Whispering good girl and so sweet against your thrumming folds as he continued to coach you through your release. 

You let out a satiated whimper at experiencing your orgasm but Ari wasn’t stopping. If anything, his fingers curved into your g-spot faster and his tongue licked harder at your humming, swollen clit. You did thrash at the overstimulation. Your disobedience resulted in Ari slapping your ass once more. Even though it was served as a punishment, it seemed to only end up heightening your yearning for a second release. Noticing that your juices were spurting out excessively now, Ari kept slapping your ass as your pussy gripped tighter onto his large fingers. 

Letting out a myriad of whimpers and desperate moans, you sobbed out, “Ari please, please…I can’t do it, please!”

“Yes, you can baby, you can. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You couldn’t answer him other than your random babblings– you couldn’t even think as you felt so consumed by the pleasure that he was giving you. You felt like you were being consumed by him and adored at the same time. 

A cry left your lips as he slapped your ass harder. “I asked you a question, are you my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, please, let me cum, please!” You sobbed out. 

Ari grunted deeply, “Your pussy is begging for it– you hear that?” He quieted only for the sounds of your own wetness slopping out of you to fill the space. “Mmm, see, I know you can do it, just one more, love.” Ari went back to suckling on your clit while he rubbed and grabbed at your now pink-colored flesh. 

Hearing him use this endearment again as his lips never left your body made your eyes roll up and you inadvertently held your breath as you let go for the second time. You register Ari’s moans and praise against your clit as you squirt your cum into his awaiting mouth. 

All you could let out were quiet mumbles of satisfaction as Ari’s fingers slowed. Your body was still jerking as it carried out aftershocks of your release, and you let out another sharp breath as Ari left one last kiss on your velvety folds. 

You were attempting to catch your breath as Ari kissed his way up your body, spending some time on your nipples by taking one in his mouth while his hand caressed your other breast. Ari brought up his fingers that were just inside of you to stroke your nipple and groaned as you glistened with your own cum. Leaning down, he took your nipple in his mouth again to suck it clean. You moaned softly and arched your back to give him more access as your hands stroked affectionately through his hair.  

Working his way back towards your bite-ridden lips, Ari slanted his wet mouth over yours as you taste yourself on his tongue. The both of you moaned as you continued making out leisurely. Ari pulled back to lick your lips sensually before dipping into your open mouth one more time for his tongue to meet yours in a passionate, sloppy dance.

Ari stroked your hair away from your face. “You ready for my cock, baby?” 

You whined and nodded as he leaned down to give you another wet kiss. You feel him reaching for his cock, hard and resting on your clit heavily. You mewled at him again as he slapped your clit with the wide mushroom head of his cock and he pushed in slowly. 

Groaning together at the feel of his thick cock bottoming in you, Ari lets out a strained moan. “Fuuuck baby, your pretty pussy is just sucking me in. Agh, so tight.” 

He withdrew until he was almost out of you before thrusting back into you deeply. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open as you could feel the veins on his girthy cock graze your inner walls. 

Ari leaned his head back in ecstasy at the feel of you clenching around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned out your name, “Yes, take it, baby. Take my fat cock.” 

You felt like you could barely breathe as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was sinking in so deep and you were gasping for air at all of the sensations your body was experiencing. Besides your mutual groans and moans, the sounds of your union could be heard as you only became wetter at the stimulation. 

“I’m so full, so full…so big, Ari.” You mumbled out, your eyes crossed in ecstasy. Ari let out a condescending laugh, “Aww, look at you. Can’t even speak, can you? Just continue taking my cock, honey, you’re so good at it.” 

Ari leaned up and thrust out of you, despite your desperate whining, only to turn you on your stomach. You feel him kneel outside of your thighs that were clenched together, and only had time to hold onto the pillow in front of you as he thrust back in. You gasped out a high pitched moan and small, repeated sounds of pleasure came out of your mouth as you felt his long shaft pit up against your g-spot with every thrust. 

“There she is, yesss. You’re so fucking tight when I take you like this, baby. Your pussy is gripping me like a vice, goddamn.” Ari groaned louder as your warmth enveloped him. Tension started brewing again deep inside your belly as he thrust faster into you. 

Leaning down, his chest was damp and his hair grazed your smooth skin as it met your back. He lifted you slightly to wrap his right hand around your neck and squeezed. He whispered harshly in your ear, “Don’t ever forget that you’re mine. This pussy is mine, your body. I’ll always protect you, you hear me, love?”

Gripping onto the pillow in front of you fiercely, you couldn’t contain your moans that were now resonating in the room. His possessiveness, his fingers gripping your throat so protectively, and the passion in his words made you feel so hot, you felt that coil in your belly about to snap. The sensation pulling at that area inside of you that felt so full and relieving when released. “Ari, yes, I’m yours! You’re gonna make me cum again!” 

“Yeah, I am, love. Soak my cock, make a mess with my pussy.” He released the grip on your throat to lean back up and take your hips in his hands for full control. His thrusts were consistently hard and deep. It twisted that coil inside of you so delightfully that you finally snapped and cried out your orgasm. 

Ari’s thrusts became sloppier as your juices squirted around his cock. He bellowed out a deep and low groan from his strained throat and followed you as you rode out your orgasm against him. You moan at the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of you and feeling him cum so deep in your pussy made you feel like you were being claimed. His dick was still buried deep inside as you gyrated against him. At the overstimulation, Ari thrust out of you with a sharp hiss and a mixture of your cum with his started to spurt out of you. 

“Fuck, so pretty, baby. Here, let me help you.” He breathed out heavily while his hand left your hip to use his finger to push your combined cum back into your quivering pussy. You moaned out at the sensation of his thick finger thrusting his warm spend further into you and mewled in content. 

Ari kneaded and squeezed your ass one last time before attempting to get off the bed to get a towel to clean you up but you clutched his hand before he could fully leave and pleaded, “Wait baby, stay. Can you just…hold me, please?”

He picked up the hand that you were holding to kiss the back of yours softly and collapsed on the bed next to you as you leaned into his outstretched arms. Cuddling him as your head rested over his chest, you felt him graze his fingers soothingly on your arm. You both were satiated in your passionate release, and after the day that you had, you both were starting to feel the effects of it. 

Embracing you in his arms, the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin felt like heaven against him. Before his sleepy eyes shut completely, you gave him a gentle tap above his heart to get his attention one last time. He peered down at you and gave you a relaxed grin. With his familiar grunt, his eyes questioned your touch. 

You gazed into his blue eyes that were filled with such affection, the same glint that you saw earlier at the bar. A familiar burning in your eyes started to come on at his stare, but you blinked them away to smile back fondly at him. 

“I love you too, Ari.” 

A/N: Welp! We made it -- I'm hoping ya'll enjoyed Ari and reader on this one. Something about Lumberjack!Ari being protective and only having eyes for you makes me feral and that can be the only explanation as to why this is so long lol. I would love to know what ya'll thought! Speak soon, lads~

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[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 25

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 10/25/2023

SUPPORT YOUR CREATORS. REBLOGGING & COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives. 

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk. Chapter Warning: Heavy themes in this chapter. That is all I will say so as not to ruin anything. Feel free to reach out for more details before reading.

Chapter Quote: "Just let me come home. Please."

I was only vaguely aware of the flurry of activity around me. As the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush started to set in, I began to feel like the room was spinning around me. Struggling to breathe, I did my best to fight off the fainting feeling that had suddenly overtaken me. Even though I felt like I may have blacked out briefly, I found myself still upright on my knees, hunched over with one shaking hand resting on the floor to balance myself. Two nurses quickly appeared by my side, attempting to coach me through the panic attack I was currently experiencing. The heavy, constricting feeling in my chest was growing increasingly worse. I roughly rubbed at the aching area, trying to shake off the feeling. I thought I knew how to handle these episodes, but this was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Then again, everything related to Dieter had been unlike anything I had experienced before. The good and the bad. 

One of the nurses began to ask me questions about my symptoms, specifically about chest pains. They were discussing doing an EKG as I started shaking my head and pushing them away from me. That was the last thing I wanted or needed. I somehow managed to get myself up out of the middle of the floor and moved over to a chair, leaning forward to lower my head between my knees. It helped with the faint feeling, but it did not do anything to dampen the anxiety I was currently feeling over the situation.

After several minutes one of the ER doctors came out to check on me. I couldn’t focus on anything he said as tears continued to pour out of my eyes. I was an emotional mess. I stared at the floor, expressionless, while listening to Lauren and Gabby explain to the doctor what had triggered the episode. Lauren asked if he could give me something to help calm me down. He returned a short time later with a bottle of water and a tablet in a small plastic cup, offering it to me. I glanced at him as I knitted my brows together.

“I don’t need that,” I said quietly. My voice was hoarse, and my mouth dry. I wiped at my face, trying to appear more put together than I felt.

“Yeah, I don’t really agree with that assessment,” he replied with a sympathetic look.

I let out a small huff, looking away from him as I thought about it. “What is it?”

“It’s a two-milligram diazepam tablet. It’s for anxiety and will help you relax so you don’t have another panic attack.” He held out the plastic cup and bottle of water again.

Gabby and Lauren were now at my side, encouraging me to take it. I sighed in defeat as I took the pill and water from the doctor; I did not have the capacity or will to actively argue with them about it. The chalky tablet stuck to my tongue as I opened the bottle. I gulped down the cold refreshment, thankful it washed away the cottonmouth sensation and lingering taste from the medication.

The doctor gave Gabby and Lauren a pointed look as he told them to alert one of the nurses if they needed anything else from him before he turned and disappeared behind the double doors. I could feel Gabby and Lauren’s eyes on me as I sat staring at the floor.

“Seriously, you two, gawking at me isn’t going to help things.” I felt slightly annoyed. I just wanted to be left alone to suffer without them looking at me like I was about to have a nervous breakdown. I glanced up at Lauren as she narrowed her eyes on me and let out a heavy sigh. She shook her head out of frustration before standing and motioning toward Gabby to follow her to the other side of the waiting area to sit with Alex.

I turned slightly in the seat, pulling my knees up to my chest and leaned my head against my legs. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm my still racing heartbeat. After a short time, I could feel the medication taking effect as relaxation overtook my body and drowsiness set in. I soon slipped into a hazy dream state as dark images that I couldn’t quiet decipher played out behind my eyelids, inducing feelings of worry and loss.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I was awakened by Gabby’s hand gently nudging my shoulder. When I raised my head, she let me know the doctor was there to speak with us. I took a deep breath as I stood slowly, still feeling a little off balance. Gabby must have noticed because she looped her arm with mine, guiding me over to where the doctor stood chatting with Alex and Lauren. As we walked toward them, I noticed Lauren was holding Alex’s hand tightly, while her other hand rested on his bicep. It was now clear to me that they had come here together. I smiled as I watched them, noticing the way they glanced at each other as Alex talked with the doctor. At least there was one piece of good news today. I was genuinely happy for them.

The doctor got straight to business as soon as he noticed us approaching. I could feel Gabby’s grip tighten on my arm as he started to speak. Realizing she was holding on for herself just as much as she was for me.

“We got him stabilized and admitted him to the Critical Care Unit for monitoring and supportive care while we wait for everything to cycle out of his system. We’re giving him fluids and oxygen. We’re going to keep an eye on his glucose, respiration, and cardiac activity and run labs every few hours to check all his levels.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from each of us with that news. I think we had all been expecting the worst. The doctor raised his hand to get our attention again, a grim look forming on his face. He hesitated before speaking but decided to continue with his thoughts.

“I don’t think I really need to say that it’s good you got him in here when you did, but I’m going to anyway. He was definitely on the decline. Mixing alcohol with the medications he’s taking is a huge risk. The alcohol with the antidepressants alone can have a sedative effect on the body and slow organ function down significantly. It can be fatal. He got very lucky.”

We knew what he was suggesting, and we all knew Dieter’s behavior couldn’t continue. We shook our heads in understanding. Gabby spoke up to ask if we could see him. We were told one of the nurses would provide us with his room information and that we could see him as soon as he was awake and alert. The doctor did warn us it could take some time since they were waiting for Dieter to sober up to further assess his condition.

A short time later, we found ourselves crowded into an elevator, making our way up to the CCU waiting area. I had finally calmed down enough to be functional, but my mind did feel a little cloudy from the medication. There was an underlying drowsiness that I had trouble shaking too. Then again, by this point we were creeping into the early morning hours when I would normally be sleeping, so the fatigue wasn’t too surprising. Once we finally found the waiting area, Alex offered to go get everyone snacks and coffee while Gabby stepped aside to call Ty and let him know what was going on. 

I was happy to find an area in the back corner of the waiting room with a handful of seats that was cordoned off by a half wall and away from everyone else. The last thing we needed was for prying eyes to recognize one of us and snap a picture. I sank down into one of the oversized upholstered chairs with my legs splayed out in front of me and my arms crossed, attempting to find some relief for my lower back. The lightly padded wooden chairs in the ER were not ideal for long-term sitting and had unfortunately caused some pain and stiffness to set in.

I sat staring at the wall in front of me, trying to think about anything other than Dieter laying in a hospital bed hooked up to several machines. It wasn’t a picture I needed in my head if I was going to keep my shit together. Lauren tentatively walked over to sit next to me. She seemed unsure of how to approach me or what to say. I glanced in her direction, and she gave me a tight-lipped smile before asking how I was doing.

“I’m ok, I think. Better now that I know he’s stabilized.” I furrowed my brows, now focusing on the collection of magazines haphazardly strewn about on the table in front of me. I raised one hand and rubbed at the crease above the bridge of my nose. I could feel a slight throb forming there. I let out a measured breath before dropping my hand and looking back over to Lauren. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked around the room. Her eyes eventually landed back on my face.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“You got anything for a headache? I don’t know where my purse is. I’m not even sure if I grabbed it before I left the house. Fuck, I don’t even know where my keys are.” I sighed heavily, realizing that the last several hours were a complete blur. I shook my head out of frustration.

Lauren gave me an empathetic look before she started to dig through her purse, quickly finding what she was looking for and passed it over to me. She also pulled out my half-drunk bottle of water from earlier that I had completely forgotten about. I gave her a small smile and thanked her as I swallowed down whatever pain reliever she had handed me. As I screwed the cap back on the bottle, I looked over at her with a genuine smile.

“So, you and Alex, huh? How long has that been going on?”

Her cheeks tinged pink as a wide grin spread across her face. “Hard to say when it actually started…he came into the shop the morning before we went to that club thing, and we chatted about charcoal drawings.” She chuckled at the memory. “He kind of just kept coming in after that, always asking questions about supplies. Then he came to a couple of the ceramics classes, and I asked him if he wanted to go out to lunch after one of them. It went from there. It’s been a slow process. He’s shy as fuck.” 

We both laughed. It amazed me how he was the complete opposite of Dieter. They seemed to be nothing alike. I sat for a moment, thinking how long it had been since the night we went to the club. My eyes widened as the realization hit me.   

“Geez, that was like seven months ago. You’ve been keeping it from me for that long?”

Lauren grimaced slightly, “Well, we weren’t sure where it was going and didn’t want to make things weird for everyone in case it didn’t work out. Then the whole thing happened with you and Dieter…I just didn’t want to upset you with news I was dating his brother. I knew it would make it harder for you to separate yourself from him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

I leaned forward in my seat, reaching over to grab her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Seriously, I’m fine with it. I would’ve been fine with it if you had told me sooner. Dieter and I wouldn’t have encouraged it otherwise.” 

Lauren stood and squished herself down in my chair beside me, pulling me in for a tight hug, which I returned. Before I pulled away, I asked, “So do I want to know what was happening that night when I Facetimed you and you said you had a stray cat?” 

She pulled away, her face turning beet red as she shook her head “no”. I couldn’t help but to snicker at her.

“I guess he isn’t that shy then, huh?” I said with a chuckle. She gave me a mischievous smirk before shrugging, “He has his moments.” We were both fighting back laughter as Gabby and Alex came walking around the corner. They gave us both a questioning look as they divided out the coffee and snacks but didn’t ask for details on what was so funny.

The mood seemed lighter after that. Knowing that Dieter was doing ok seemed to take a lot of the stress off us as we waited for him to wake up. Gabby spent time updating us on how the kids were doing and let it slip that she had known about Lauren and Alex’s exploits for a while. Apparently, they had been routinely joining her for dinner and were doing a shit job of hiding things. We all had a good laugh about it now that the truth was out in the open. Alex seemed more relaxed and chattier than I had known him to be in the past. It was sort of heartwarming to see and made me realize how much I had missed all of them. I suddenly felt a wave of regret for pushing them away since the infamous phone call that changed everything. 

My attention was suddenly drawn to a light brown head of hair wandering around just on the other side of the short wall that separated us from the larger waiting area. I instantly tensed when I realized who it was. Gabby noticed my change in demeanor and followed my line of sight as I watched Anna walk around to where we were sitting.

I heard Alex and Lauren mutter a low “fuck” under their breaths in unison. Gabby stood up, defiantly blocking Anna from walking any closer.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Gabby asked her, rather curtly.

“Ty called me and said Dieter was in the hospital. He’s my friend and I’m coming to see if he needs anything.”

I couldn’t help the admonishing laugh that slipped from my lips. She sounded so ridiculous and clearly had no idea what was going on. My sudden outburst caused Anna’s wide eyes to focus on me over Gabby’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I said anything that was funny.” Anna’s eyes shifted back to Gabby, “What the hell is she doing here? He doesn’t wanna see her anymore.”

I wasn’t really sure what came over me as I shot up out of my seat without even realizing what I was doing. The complacent look Anna shot my way gave me the urge to smack it off her face. I had a similar urge the last couple of times that I was graced with her presence but managed to control it. The feeling was stronger this time, knowing that she had no doubt been Dieter’s biggest enabler when it came to the use of any kind of substance. Lauren must have recognized my fury because she jumped up behind me, grabbing at my arm.

“You wanna know why I’m here, Anna? Because he fucking called me right before he passed out.” I could feel anger radiating throughout my body. I knew she could see it on my face, but she wasn’t backing down this time.

“You say that like it’s a big deal. It’s not the first time he’s passed out from drinking too much. I’m sure he’s fine and you’re overreacting.”

I scoffed as I took another step forward. I could feel Gabby stick her arm out to block me from walking around her. Lauren linked her arm with mine and held on tightly. Alex stood off to the side with his right hand on his hip, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, unsure of what to do.

“Overreacting? Are you that fucking stupid? He was unresponsive and almost stopped breathing. If I hadn't gone over there when I did, he wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Anna’s hand flew up to her chest. She had the audacity to look upset by my comment, like she finally understood how bad the situation was.

“Is he…is he ok?” She asked in a concerned voice.

I shook my head as I let out a small laugh, “You know, if you were such a good friend that really cared about him, you wouldn’t have enabled his behavior. You would’ve cut him off before he hurt himself. You were the only one out of all of us that he was speaking to and knew what he was doing… and you did nothing. Hell, you were probably encouraging him as you handed him more shots and who knows what else.”

One of the nurses came over and asked us if there was a problem. We assured her there was not. She looked between Anna and I, not convinced by our assurances.

“If you’re not family, I'm afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re disturbing everyone else in the waiting room.”

I exhaled loudly before shaking my head in agreement. I moved to leave, but Gabby grabbed my wrist tightly, stopping me in place. She turned to Anna and gave her a sweet smile, “Anna, I’ll let you know when you’re allowed to come see him. IF he wants to see you after he wakes up.”

Anna moved to leave, but paused, looking between Lauren and me.

“What about them? Why do they get to stay?”

“Because it’s my call. They’re more family to him than you’ll ever be.” Gabby’s words were laced with venom. I couldn’t see her face, but I was sure she had the expression to match her tone.

The corners of Anna’s mouth turned up into what I am sure was meant to be a menacing smile, but it didn’t quite hit the mark. “I’m sure that’ll no longer be the case once he’s awake.”

She gave Gabby and I both a pointed look before she turned on her heel and walked toward the exit. Once Anna was out of sight, Gabby let out the breath she had been holding and turned to look at me. She had a look of frustration on her face.

“She is such a fucking miserable person.”

I gave her a half smile, “You don’t have to tell me that twice.”

We both turned to face Lauren and Alex. Alex was still standing with his hands on his hips, his brows were drawn down together and he had a smirk on his face.

“Something wrong, Alex?” Gabby asked him.

“You two are fucking terrifying together. You know that? I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that mess… unless I absolutely had to.” 

Gabby, Lauren, and I chuckled at him. Surprisingly, there was something in his stance and his reaction that reminded me so much of his brother in that moment. Maybe they were more alike than I had realized.

We all sat in silence, continuing our wait. After an hour, Lauren announced that she needed more caffeine, so she and Alex went in search of more coffee for all of us. After they left, I could feel Gabby’s eyes on me. I looked in her direction, meeting her gaze. I could tell she wanted to ask me something. I raised an eyebrow at her, “What is it?”

She scrunched her face up in thought, exhaling loudly as she leaned forward. “You don’t have to tell me, but how did you know Dieter had alcohol poisoning?”

I rubbed my hands over my face for a moment, trying to decide how to answer her question. I sat up straight and squared my shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before responding. I could feel my face tense before I met her eyes and started to speak.

“I think you know I was in a shitty marriage before?” She nodded. “Well, let’s just say it got to a point where I couldn’t deal with it anymore. I was feeling pretty fucking hopeless and had a close call myself.”

I watched her shoulders drop and her brow furrow as she processed my words.

“I don’t think I was as bad off as Dieter, but it was enough to scare the shit out of me. I’ve had a complicated relationship with alcohol ever since. I don’t manage my emotions very well, so I have to watch myself.”

Gabby moved to sit next to me, then pulled me into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry I tried to dump things on you when Dieter stopped talking to us. I shouldn’t have done that, and I should’ve been there to support you more than I was,” she said as she pulled away.

I shook my head at her, “Gabby, no. It’s fine. He’s your brother. I totally get where you were coming from, and I pushed you all away. Some of that’s on me. I should’ve handled this whole situation differently than I did.”

Our conversation was interrupted by Alex and Lauren returning with the next round of coffee. It was nearing 4 AM, so I was thankful for it. Once it had cooled off, I gulped it down quickly. I was beginning to feel restless sitting for so long. I got up and started walking around the waiting room to keep myself busy, looking at the cheap stock art that hung on the walls. Every minute seemed like ten as the night stretched on. The wait was maddening. We did get a couple of updates during that time that Dieter was still doing ok, and all of his tests were coming back normal, but he hadn’t woken up yet. We at least had that bit of information to keep our positivity up while we waited.  

It was close to 8 AM when I sat scrolling through my phone, but not really reading anything. Lauren had fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. He was dozing off with his head laying on top of hers. Gabby was in one of the oversized chairs with her head leaned against the back and her knees pulled up to her chest, asleep. I gave up trying to focus on my phone. I slid it into my back pocket as I stood to walk around for a minute. As I rounded the edge of the dividing wall, I saw the CCU physician, Dr. Wilson, walking toward us. I turned to get everyone’s attention to let them know he was coming.

We all crowded around the doctor as he walked into the small waiting area that we had claimed. I noticed the look on his face was concerning compared to how he looked when he had spoken to us earlier. I suddenly felt knots in my stomach and braced for the worst.

“Alright, first, let me say he’s awake and he’s fine… physically. Which is surprising given that his BAC was off the charts. He’s seriously lucky that you got him here when you did.”

Gabby and I exchanged a nervous glance, not really understanding where this was going.

“We didn’t find any drugs in his system, other than what he had been prescribed and those were all at normal levels.” 

I suddenly felt guilty with that news. He had said he wasn’t on anything and none of us believed him. I started rubbing at my chest and shoulder. The anxious feeling was returning. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I started inhaling deep breaths to try and keep myself calm.

Dr. Wilson paused, thinking through his next words carefully. “When he woke up, he was obviously confused. He got combative and he’s a little overly emotional. I’m not a mental health professional, but I think he may be having some type of manic episode. One of our consulting psychiatrists is evaluating him right now.”

To say that we were stunned was an understatement. We were quiet for a moment, silent glances of worry passing between each of us. Gabby looked overwhelmed as she ran her hand through the top of her hair, bunching it at the crown of her head.

“So, what does that mean?” She finally asked.

“Well, it’s possible it could be the medications he’s currently taking. If he has some sort of undiagnosed disorder, it could be causing a bad reaction. That’s the theory I’m going with. Is he currently seeing a psychiatrist?”

Gabby gave Dr. Wilson a blank stare, then looked at me with panicked eyes as she shook her head. “I don’t know anything about what he’s doing.” 

I reached out and grabbed Gabby’s hand in an attempt to comfort her before I spoke up.

“As far as I know… but this was months ago… he was seeing a therapist who was working with his primary care doctor for medication.”

“But he has prescriptions from two different doctors? Do you know if he was drug seeking?”

I drew my brows down together at the question and shook my head from side to side.

“No, I don’t… I don’t think he would do that. I know when he was in Canada filming… he was referred to someone because he was there for five or six months. I assume that’s why there are two. I know they gave him something new while he was there. An antidepressant… I think.”

Dr. Wilson shook his head in understanding, “Alright, I’m going to recommend that he see a psychiatrist who also does therapy. I think he needs someone who is a little more experienced with certain types of disorders and medication. I can provide some suggestions. These Hollywood types around here tend to hand out drugs like they’re candy without figuring out what’s actually going on.” 

Dr. Wilson paused, then waved someone over to us. An older woman with graying hair joined us. Dr. Wilson introduced her as Dr. Stevenson and indicated she was the consulting psychiatrist who had been evaluating Dieter. I could feel Gabby’s grip tighten on my hand as she stared at the psychiatrist, unblinking. Alex stepped forward and put a hand on Gabby’s shoulder in comfort. Dr. Stevenson gave us a reassuring smile as she motioned for us to have a seat. She sat down on the table in front of us before she spoke.

“I just had an interesting talk with Dieter. He’s…definitely exhibiting signs of a mixed manic episode. Do any of you know if he has been diagnosed with anything?”

Gabby and Alex looked at me, clearly, they knew nothing about what was going on with their brother. I inhaled sharply before speaking.

“The only thing I’ve ever heard him talk about is anxiety and depression.” 

Dr. Stevenson nodded. “Can you tell me how long he’s been acting like this?”

Gabby spoke up, “We really don’t know. He was away filming for a while then wouldn’t really speak to any of us after he got back.” She glanced at me as she spoke, a questioning look on her face.

I shut my eyes tightly, rubbing the wrinkled spot that had formed between my eyebrows as I tried to think back. “He’s always been kind of moody… but umm, they made some medication changes right before he left for Canada, then again a few weeks after he got there.”

I exhaled slowly and dropped my hand before meeting Dr. Stevenson’s eyes. “I know when I was there visiting, he was skipping meals, which is unusual for him. His mood was one extreme to the other, but I just figured that was because he was upset about me leaving. He seemed like he had a short fuse… like he was quick to get mad or frustrated. I know he’s been having trouble sleeping for a long time. I think it was like three weeks after I left, he called me and broke things off and wasn’t really making sense. That was like six months ago. I’ve not really talked to him since then.”

Dr. Stevenson listened intently as I talked. She reached out and gave my hand a pat, before she spoke again. “It’s my opinion that he would benefit from inpatient treatment. He needs to be supervised while they get him off all of these medications so they can get a base level reading and evaluate him properly. It’s possible he could have some withdrawal symptoms that would need to be managed during that process. I really feel that he’s been misdiagnosed, and his current medication regimen is making things worse for him.”  

Gabby reached for my right hand again and squeezed it. I could see her eyes glazing over from the information overload. I covered her hand with my left one to try and offer comfort. My leg started to bounce from the building anxiety I was feeling.

“Umm, how long is inpatient treatment?” Gabby finally asked.

“That depends entirely on him. It would be helpful if it’s something he’s willing to do. If he’s cooperative, it’ll go faster and be more beneficial for him. It can take several weeks or longer to get medication figured out though.”

Gabby sagged back into her seat with that information, “How am I gonna get him to willingly go along with that?” She let out an exasperated sigh as she looked in my direction.

“Could one of you talk with him… help him calm down…convince him to do it? I can force the issue and require that he go, but I would much rather that he chooses it.” Dr. Stevenson added.

Gabby balked at her statement, “So you want me to convince my brother to choose to do something that he really doesn’t have a choice in?”

Dr. Stevenson nodded, “It will make it easier on him if he is a willing participant.”

Gabby sighed heavily, “Alright, let us talk through this. We’ll see what we can do.” 

The two doctors left us to discuss things. Gabby looked like she was now on the verge of having a panic attack herself as her breathing sped up.

“I don’t know how to handle this. What the fuck do I say to him?” She asked as she looked between Alex and me with wide eyes.

I took a deep calming breath, closing my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, everyone was looking at me. I knitted my brows together as I met Gabby’s stare, “I’ll do it.”

She vehemently shook her head, “No. I can’t put this on you.” 

I reached out and grabbed her hand to reassure her, “Gabby, I’m fine. I can do it. We have a way of calming each other. I think he would respond better to me right now.”

Alex shook his head in agreement, “She’s not wrong, Gab. They do have that weird thing they do where they mellow each other out.”

I raised an eyebrow in Alex’s direction, surprised at his comment. One side of his lips slid upwards as he reached over and squeezed my shoulder in solidarity.

Gabby gave me a concerned look, “Talia, are you sure? I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Seriously, I’m good. Besides, I think I kind of owe it to him at this point.”

I watched Gabby’s nose crinkle and her nostrils flare as she fought back tears. She pulled me into another tight hug. “Thank you for doing this for him. I know it’s not easy for you.”

I gave her a small smile as I pulled away. Dr. Wilson came over to check in with us and we let him know that I was going to talk to Dieter. I did ask Gabby to come with me and wait outside the door in case I needed her.

As we walked back toward Dieter’s room, Dr. Wilson spoke up, “We did give him a sedative because he was amped up and giving the staff a hard time. He’s a little calmer now and it’s possible he may fall back to sleep.”

Gabby looped her arm with mine and entwined our fingers, squeezing tightly. I could tell she was nervous by her sweaty palms and fidgeting. As we approached Dieter’s room, we could see him through the window in the door. I audibly gasped, putting my free hand over my mouth. I could feel Gabby stiffen beside me as she took him in. He looked completely broken. He was sitting upright in his bed, rocking slightly while rubbing the thumb on his right hand between his thumb and the pointer finger of his left hand. He was staring downward, unblinking. Even from this distance I could see the deep crease between his brows and I could tell his eyes were red and swollen. His dark hair was standing up in all directions creating a stark contrast with his pale scruffy face.

His appearance shocked me. I could feel another anxiety attack creeping up as a result. I released Gabby’s hand and pulled away. “I need a minute,” I said weakly. I laced my fingers together behind my neck as I backed against the wall, leaning down toward my knees with my eyes shut willing the dizzying feeling to go away. I took several deep breaths to center myself. Gabby asked if I was ok as she stood awkwardly beside me. I could tell she wasn’t sure what to do based on the tone of her voice. A few seconds passed before I popped back up, somehow managing to get my emotions in check. I had to if I was going to get through this. I gave Gabby a small nod before I turned and pushed the door open to enter his room.

I took a few steps inside, allowing the door to close behind me. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from him since our last two encounters had been less than friendly. I paused just inside of the entryway, trying to gauge his reaction before I went in any further. It took him a moment to tear his attention away from whatever he was focused on. Once his gaze met mine, he stopped all movement as his eyes widened.

“Why…what are you doing here?” he asked in a flat tone. 

“You called me. So, I came over. Do you remember that?” I spoke in a quiet voice, choosing my words carefully. I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing to him. I felt like I was talking to a scared puppy from the way he was looking at me; his big brown eyes wider than usual, filled with apprehension and disorientation.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, his eyes seemed to unfocus as he searched his memory. He slowly shook his head as his gaze met mine again.

“Can I come sit with you?” I asked hesitantly.

He started rubbing at his chest with one hand and ran the other through his hair as he shook his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m a fucking disaster. I don’t want you seeing me like this.”

“You look a hell of a lot better than you did last night.”

His head snapped back up in my direction as he met my gaze, “You saw me last night?”

I took a steadying breath as I walked further into the room and sat down in the chair next to the bed. I reached out to grab his right hand away from his chest and pulled it to rest on the edge of the mattress, holding it tightly.

I could feel the crease form between my brows as I decided how to answer him. I didn’t want to push him over the edge, but I didn’t want to keep anything from him either.

“Dieter, I’m the one that found you. You called me and I could tell something was wrong, so I came over to check on you. You were unconscious.”

His face tensed; his eyes quickly pooled with tears as they darted around the room while he processed my words. A quiet sob suddenly escaped his lips as he pulled his hand away from me to cover his face. A rush of words spilled out of him through the sobs, “I’m such a fuck up. I never wanted to do that to you. I’m just like my fucking mom. I knew this was going to happen. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

I could hear the beeping of the heart monitor speed up. His anxiety was clearly ramping up again. I leaned across the bed, grabbing both of his hands and pulled them away from his face.

“Hey… stop that, look at me.” He turned his head away as the tears ran down his cheeks.

“Look at me,” I said again, more forcefully. He hesitated but finally met my gaze. I leaned in slightly, compelling him to look directly into my eyes as I spoke.

“If you hadn't called me, you wouldn’t be here right now. I would much rather see you like this than have the alternative. I’m glad you reached out. As long as you ask for help when you need it, you’ll never be like her. You understand me?”

He shook his head, the vacant expression returning. He started to slowly rock again, mumbling about how he was sorry for ruining everything, he’s a fuck up, and this is all his fault. He kept muttering it repeatedly on a loop. It was painful to watch him sit and quietly berate himself. I could feel the lump forming in my throat and it was taking everything I had in me to stay calm.

I squeezed his hands a little harder to try and bring his attention back to me.

“Dieter, I need to talk to you about something, ok?” It took a few seconds, but he finally focused back on me, full of confusion.

“Ummm, the doctor thinks that maybe your medication is making you feel this way…making things worse.”

“No. No…no. It’s supposed to fix it. It’s just not working. It’s not working.”

I shook my head, “No… this can be a side effect. They think you were misdiagnosed. This can happen if it’s not the correct medication for you.”

He scoffed, “Ok, so give me something else then.” There was a slight edge to his voice.

“It’s not that simple. They have to take you off everything slowly and you need to be monitored while you come off of it.”

His eyebrows shot up as his dark eyes widened, “Wha…What does that mean?”

“They’re recommending that you do inpatient treatment so that they can get your medication figured out and a proper diagnosis.”

He let out several stuttered breaths before he responded, “So like a mental health facility? Is it that fucking bad?” His eyes widened.

My eyes started to sting, I briefly closed them and exhaled slowly before opening them again. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold back my tears. I nodded, “You’re gonna need a little extra help to get through this.”

He started shaking his head, “I can’t. I have to work… and I…I just can’t.”

“You can’t work like this... You can’t live like this. Take some time and get the help you need. We’re all here to help you through it.”

I could see the panic setting in on his features. A deep crease had formed between his brows as his whole body started to tremble. His eyes were round and his chin quivering. “For how long? How long do I have to be there?”

I knew this was the part he was going to have the hardest time with, and I didn’t want to say it, but I couldn’t lie to him.

“They said it can take several weeks to figure out your medication, so I don’t know exactly how long it’ll be.”

His heart rate spiked as he started crying again. “Please just let me come home with you. I’ll do whatever the fuck I have to, just let me come home. Please. Please…” 

I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore. They started running down my cheeks while I worked to steady my emotions. I stood and crawled up on the bed beside him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He buried his face into my neck as he sobbed and continued to beg me to come home.

I ran my fingers through his hair to try and comfort him and talked softly in response, “Listen, you can’t do this at home, ok. I’m not gonna lie to you. It’s gonna be hard. They said you might have withdrawal symptoms and they need to be able to manage those and monitor you around the clock.”

I paused for a minute to steady myself, taking a few more deep breaths.

“I promise you, once you're better, you can come home to me if that’s what you still want.”

I could feel him nod slightly against my neck. He let out a slow breath, “I’m so fucking scared. I don’t know if I can do this.” It was almost a whisper, and I could hear the fear in his voice.

“If you wanna get better, you have to. You can’t keep living like this.”

He pulled away from me, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ll do it. You’re right, I…I can’t do this anymore. I just wanna be happy and normal. I want to come home.”

He stared at me for a few seconds, his eyes suddenly seemed clearer as they looked over my face. He leaned his forehead against mine and sighed, “I missed you so fucking much. I should’ve told you what was going on instead of pushing you away. I just…”

He started crying harder again, I pulled him back against me, hugging him tightly. He knotted his hands in the front of my shirt, trying to get as close to me as possible. I shushed him as I rubbed my cheek against his forehead before placing a gentle kiss there. “Don’t worry about that right now. You’re forgiven. Just focus on yourself. I’m fine and I’m here for you however you need me.”

We sat in silence for several minutes as I continued to hold him and run my fingers through his messy curls. Once it seemed like he had calmed down, I asked if he wanted to see Gabby. I could see her standing in the hallway, across from his door, watching the exchange between us. She looked like she was having a hard time keeping it together too.

“I do wanna see her, but I don’t want you to leave me.” he said with a trembling voice. I raised my hand and motioned for her to come in. She walked in hesitantly and came to sit on the opposite side of his bed. He didn’t pull away from me, but he did reach over with his left hand to grab hers. She let out a sigh of relief as the tears finally escaped her eyes. She gave me a questioning look; I gave her a small nod. This was a good first step.

Gabby spoke up and asked him if he wanted to see Alex too. He shook his head as he pulled away from me, “Not right now. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake. I feel like shit.”

I reached up and continued to run my fingers through the hair at the nap of his neck as he wiped at his tear-streaked face, his head leaning back into my touch. He seemed a lot calmer than he had been and maybe even a little more focused. He looked at Gabby with a slight smirk, “Can you make sure they don’t send me to some shit hole with doctors that don’t know what they’re doing please? I’ve had enough of that.” Gabby and I both let out a small laugh.

“No worries, hermano. We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” She smiled at him as she rubbed the back of his hand.

Gabby’s phone vibrated in her back pocket. She stood to pull it out and look at it. After unlocking her phone, she rolled her eyes. She looked at her brother, irritation lacing her tone as she spoke. “It’s Anna. Again. She is insisting on seeing you.”

Dieter shook his head, “I don’t wanna see her. Like…at all. I’m done with her.”

Gabby and I exchanged a questioning look, wondering what had brought that on. I would have to remember to ask him about that later.

Dieter glanced up at me, he suddenly looked very sleepy, “How about we let you get some rest. You can hardly hold your eyes open.”

He let out a loud huff, “I don’t want you to leave. Will you stay until I fall asleep? Please?”

Gabby smiled at us, taking that as her cue to leave. She quietly made her exit as I got up to sit back down in the chair beside the bed. Dieter lowered the back of the bed down and got comfortable. Once he was situated on his side, facing me, he reached over and held out his hand. I took it in both of mine, rubbing over the top of it as we sat in silence. It didn’t take long before he was asleep.

I watched him for a few minutes, taking in his features. The worry was gone from his face and his color was already starting to look better. I could feel guilt settling in the pit of my stomach. I should have gone to him sooner and made him talk to me. Gabby was right, if I had forced it, he would have opened up to me. I could have kept it from getting this bad, cut it off before he spiraled out of control. I gave up on us too easily and I could only hope he didn’t hold that against me.

I knew he and I still had a lot to talk about, but it could wait until he was in a better place mentally and emotionally. In the meantime, I needed to work on sorting out my feelings as well. I now realized how much I had kept hidden away and avoided processing. Some of it had nothing to do with Dieter and everything to do with my own personal demons. A lot of it didn’t matter anymore given what was actually going with him. I could tell we still had a long road ahead, but I was willing to go on this journey with him as long as he still wanted me to. 

A/N: I am peeking out from under my rock to check in and see how you all are feeling after that chapter? Was it angsty enough for you? Any predictions for what is to come with D and Talia? Topics for discussion...How are we feeling about Lauren and Alex? Or just Alex for that matter? We haven't seen much of him so far, but I do have a little bonding moment planned for Alex and Talia in the next chapter that is kind of sweet. How about that private chat between Gabby and Talia? Do you think the group made the right call letting Talia talk to D? Or should Gabby have done it? Do you have any predictions for what is going on with D? I mean, how pitiful was he? Does this make up for all of his dummy asshole behavior? And last but not least, we can't forget about Anna and her drama...how bad did that piss you off? As promised, I also prepared another Deconstructing Dieter Bravo post. Be sure you jump over there and check it out. The topic is Psychiatric Medication and goes along with this chapter. We will obviously get into things a little deeper once we have his diagnosis. As usual, I have included the mood board for this chapter below. I have been lazy and haven't put together any of the chapter playlists... but just a reminder, you can find the full playlist here. A good portion of the Lifehouse songs on the list I attribute to Dieter, especially during the last half of this fic. So, feel free to jump over there and give those a listen while you read. Last but not least, a huge thank you to my beta, @for-a-longlongtime. She deserves an award for putting up with me and always makes everything so much better! 💜

Next Chapter

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[macbethz]

about a post you reblogged/made a few days ago saying 'what are you doing having ptsd about cigarettes'.....unfortunately no one can control what they have ptsd about, and having ptsd about stupid things causes a lot of shame. like for example, having ptsd triggered by garage door sounds, due to the association with an abusive parent coming home. an emoji strongly associated with a specific person someone has ptsd about sounds like it's probably going to be an increasingly common trigger given the amount of emoji-heavy social interaction online that happens now. the more relevant issue is it doesn't matter what someone has ptsd about, if someone's ptsd symptoms are restricting their life or urging them to restrict other people's lives, it's that person's problem to deal with, like an unusual food allergy.

you put that in quotes like i said that. what actually happened was someone wanted the cigarette emoji removed because they had ptsd, not from an event, but from "insidious marketing." Even if they had legitimate ptsd that was triggered by cigarettes it is ridiculous to say that as a reason an emoji should not exist, especially around the wider context of the sanitization of the internet. I've had my own ridiculous triggers which FRANKLY i shouldn't even have to talk about for internet argument points but i would not expect the whole world to ban the thing that triggered me. i dont really understand this ask because you even say at the end its their problem to deal with like a food allergy; people with peanut allergies are not asking for peanuts to be banned from the world.

also again. we are talking about cigarette emoji.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 5, Poll 15

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Seven of Nine-Star Trek Voyager and Picard

Qualifications:

She is an ex-borg, and as such needs mechanical prosthetics to function and has PTSD from assimilation. She is canonically gay, and has dated several women in Star Trek Picard.

Propaganda:

She's a space ranger who is a lesbian!! What more could you want?

Submitted by @convenient-plot-device

Kuruto Ryuki-AI: The Somnium Files- Nirvana Initiative

Qualifications:

LGBTQ+: He is canonically bisexual (his romantic feelings for another male character are an important part of the plot, and he has a physical relationship with a different character who’s a woman). Disability: He experiences psychotic episodes as well as/possibly caused by PTSD. While I wouldn’t call it perfect rep, the game treats this with surprising empathy—the other characters are only ever gently concerned about him, which ultimately helps him into a place where he can start managing his symptoms. It’s possibly the only video game I’ve ever seen where a character discusses doing inpatient psychiatric care as a serious option that might save his life, not as a threat or a horror level.

CANONICALLY MLM!! Probably bi but they're very vague about whether he likes women. He definitely has a crush on his cringefail male mentor tho <3 And he canonically has hallucinations and dissociative episodes! Also he's missing an eye and uses a prosthetic eye instead, which feels less notable considering the same can be said for at least 3 other main characters in the games, but he's still disabled!!! I'd also argue he's heavily implied to have PTSD considering a lot of his issues come from trauma.

He is clearly Bisexual, based on both his unrequited love for "Mr. Date" (Kaname Date, who I have also submitted), and his attraction to multiple female characters, including the very difficult to categorize relationship he has with the female sentient A.I. "Tama" that is implanted in his Prosthetic left eyeball (referred to in-universe as an "AI-Ball"). Also, quoting directly from the personality section of his article on the wiki (Spoilers ahead for the game AI: THE SOMNIUM FILES - nirvanA Initiative): "Another of Ryuki's defining traits is his difficulties with mental health. Although generally calm and collected, he is shown to suffer some form of survivor's guilt and PTSD; although he tries to channel his grief into determination for his investigative work, he generally does not handle emotional stress well, and is prone to bouts of depression, obsession, deep self doubt, and self-blame. His struggles initially stemmed from the traumatic loss of his twin brother in a traffic accident in pursuit of a criminal, and his dislike of stopped clocks, and his hatred of criminals originates from the same event. Additionally, as his symptoms appear to worsen as a result of more traumatic events that occurred during the events of the original Half Body Killing investigations (specifically his feelings of guilt over the apparent death of Date and his exposure to [an extremely potent and long-lasting fictional psychoactive drug that was going to be used in a doomsday cult's terrorist plot]), he becomes prone to dissociation, memory lapses, hallucinations, derealization, and even mania. He also appears to be strangely susceptible to the videos tied to the HB-Case (though this was the case even before his exposure to [the fictional psychoactive drug]), as they seem to trigger his dissociative episodes and hallucinations that leave him questioning his sense of reality. All this, in combination with his struggle to accept forgiveness from other people, lead him to spiral easily, and give him the appearance of being self-destructive and even dangerous. However, deep down he is merely a vulnerable person who deeply struggles with guilt and self-worth, and seeks atonement for his mistakes, but doesn't believe he is deserving of it. With the support of others, he is ultimately able to find the will to pull himself out his depression and start to recover."

Propaganda:

(Qualifying answer is also my propaganda!)

He's just... so skrunkly... He's a silly guy with so many problems and relies on the support AI inside his prosthetic eyeball :) He fell in love with a guy and then that guy went missing because of him and he blamed himself for 6 years while his mental health slipped (and it was ALREADY bad before that so... yeah, it really sucks). He's going through it constantly, but he's still funny and loveable and just trying his best ;-;

(In addition to the propaganda below, I highly recommend that the reasoning for his qualification be included in some capacity for propaganda) Ryuki grew up both rich and highly educated until his parents were killed in a plane crash. He was living with his younger brother until his death in 2014 when he was hit by a truck and half of his body was utterly crushed. The only thing Ryuki has left of his deceased parents is a white Rolls Royce Phantom limousine, which he uses as his primary means of transportation. Ryuki always sits in the back seat, with Tama using the car camera to steer the vehicle remotely. As Tama is an AI, the car is technically classified as "self-driving".

Mod Note: this man is known to me as orange man.

[myrmyrtheorca]

BUDDY NEW CHAPTER HAS BROUGHT NEW QUESTIONS!

At least I think they are new... I might have asked them already, I'm sorry I'm showing symptoms of goldfishbrain again *melts into puddle* I'm just gonna chunk them at your head anyways:

Does Myr have PTSD? Obviously she has trauma but in Chapter 3 she has a panick attack? disassociates? I'm not sure what fits here but cleary the dying will flame triggered her. Which brings me to my next question does she have triggers? If so what would trigger her? (If this is spoiler no biggie just ignore me).

Well that's it from me for now.

Buddy out~

Finally tackling all your chapter-related questions friend! I decided to collect them under a new tag called #Killer Whale Files which I guess will include any in-depth explanations I post as a result of a question (minus ask games unless the answer has some kind of plot relevance).

As always, thank you for passing by and showing interest in my story (●ˇ∀ˇ●)💙

Killer Whale Files: [Myr]

Disclaimer: this bit is in no way trying to downplay or romanticize PTSD. My level of knowledge is superficial and I apologize in advance in case incorrect information is presented.

After researching a bit on PTSD so I could tackle this question better, my answer is: sort of.

Hers is definitely a traumatic response, which from what I've seen can manifest through symptoms and condition caused by PTSD, namely nightmares, numbing, avoidance of anything related to the traumatic experience and panic attacks. As you could see in chapter 3, Myr reacts to Tsuna's Dying Will Flame with extreme distress: her trauma seems to be related to fire.

I say "seems" because... she doesn't remember the traumatic event that triggers such reaction. She has nightmares about a specific scene, which I will quote from the draft of a future chapter:

Fire. Fire everywhere. A recurrent dream. She had been there many times before, but the terror was impossible to get used to. Crazed, towering flames like those from hell covered the wooden walls like a veil of chaos. A painting on the wall fell, the frame shattered on impact as the canvas inside it blackened and curled in on itself, the figure it housed lost forever. As always, Myr was in the middle of the room, on her knees. The heat was unbearable, her knees burned too much to keep them resting on the floor for long and she was thus forced to lift them in shifts, panicking. Her hands clasped her head, blocking her ears, so as not to hear the roar of the fire raging around her. As always, Myr screamed, called for help, cried hysterically in the hope that someone might hear her… but no one ever came. The roar of the flames was immense, deafening, as if everything around her was whirling in gale-force winds. I must escape. I'm dying. I need to run. I'm burning. Dad, help me! This isn't my fault, I didn't do this!

The nightmare repeats itself each time she experiences it in the same way, unchanged to its little details. It is carved in her mind, she knows it's "the fire room" but does not ever remember such a room existing in the City of Dite base, nor does she recall ever setting foot in a similar room. Each time she's put close to a flame, she does not experience a flashback but only the immediate fight or flight respose. She only sees the room in her nightmares.

Did she remove this traumatic event in some sort of dissociative amnesia way? There are no records of such a disastrous event happening in the City of Dite base. This made her come to the conclusion that the event has somehow never happened, even though the scene is vivid in her mind and she feels "like she was actually there". I will say that hers is not the only case of pyrophobia ever descripted in the Cavalieri's medical records, though hers seems to be a unique condition.

Other than fire, she does not posses any other triggers.

[rabbitholeresearch]

The Diagnosis of Chris Redfield

It all began in the spring of 1998. Raccoon City had a case of cannibalistic murders and mysterious animal attacks, both on hikers and residents that lived near Raccoon Forest. The city’s police department guess a satanic cult of some kind, probably on narcotics of some kind, given the extent of the violent attacks. However, as the investigation continued, they guessed the base of operations for this cult was somewhere deep within Arklay Mountains, about northwest of the city. With public pressure, the RPD gave in to and put a specialized task force on the team known as the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, AKA S.T.A.R.S., led by Captain Albert Wesker.

Shortly after STARS is put on the case, they send Team Bravo into the suspected hideout deep within said mountains in the mid-summer. Radio contact is lost. Alpha Team went in, finding out that Bravo was attacked, and fled into the mansion and split up.

And it’s here. It is here that young Chris Redfield’s life takes a turn for the worst. Without getting too into detail, he straight up is thrown from the world of a young cop who just had fun little shooting competitions with his friends, to a gritty, beefcake, boulder punching man who lost his memory at one point due to a concussion caused by a fake Ada Wong, regains those memories, and eventually finds the origins of Oswald Spencer’s research and destroys the origination of the Mold.

But that’s just it. How does he stay this cool, badass character that just shows up and sprays down zombies like it’s nothing? Well...he doesn’t. I think the leader of the Alpha team has severe PTSD.

Please note that this post will be talking about severe trauma from a psychiatric perspective so please, if you see or think anything might affect you, I beg you to turn away. This post will also have spoilers for the recent Resident Evil 8 game for those that haven’t played.

–

So let’s start by defining PTSD. According to the American Psychiatric Association, PTSD is and I quote: “A psychiatric disorder that may occur in people who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event such as a natural disaster, a serious accident, a terrorist act, or war/combat.”

Okay so at the very least, Chris Redfield is probably already a qualified patient. “Terrorist act”? Check. I would absolutely say that the events of Resident Evil 6 count as that. “War/Combat”? We saw that for the most part in RE5. “Natural Disaster?” Aaaaah. Maybe six or seven? That one’s kinda weird to be honest. But serious accident? Yes. Absolutely! Why? Because, referenced in Resident Evil 5, we see Jill Valentine, who is basically his sidekick/best friend from the very first game, and even survives on her own for a bit in Resident Evil 3, falls out of a window after attacking Albert Wesker who betrayed STARS and was infected with some form of the zombie virus. Chris presumed her death, only to find out she survived the fall through, ya know, video game logic, and was experimented on by Wesker.

Which honestly, I was surprised he didn’t come back too. I mean, in Resident Evil 5, his last hoorah is literally in a freaking volcano! What is up with that?! But his son, Jake Muller (who until RE6 didn’t even know who his dad was), appeared and I really expected Wesker to just pop up like “Hey son. I’m back with those smokes. Also, you’re immune to the C-Virus so congrats. My zombie body helped make you with your mom--” Alright that got too weird. ANYWAY.

We’re here because Chris, in all fairness, has trauma. But let’s try and figure this out. The A.P.A. states that PTSD symptoms, though they can vary in specificity, fall into four categories:

Intrusion

Avoidance

Alterations in cognition and mood

Alteration in arousal and reactivity

Now I will say I actually have PTSD of my own. Avoidance and Intrusion are absolutely symptoms I got through, as well as Cognition and Mood alterations when triggered.

Something I noticed is Chris definitely doesn’t avoid anything so we can go ahead and cross that off. Chris Redfield always dives in headfirst cuz well...he’s the American Boy. He’s the definition of charge in and be the American hero because human lives are at stake so the second one is crossed off.

Now the third one, Cognitions and Mood. This basically means important details of events aren’t remembered, everything’s kinda blurred, which results in detached behavior and Survivor’s Guilt. Now while Survivor’s Guilt is often a result of PTSD, it isn’t a form of PTSD. It’s just another symptom. It’s basically kinda like when you eat way, way too many blue gummy bears and then your poop is blue. It’s blue because of the gummy bears. If you didn’t have the Gummy Bear, you don’t have the blue poop. 

Fun fact, that’s an actual thing that happened to my dad one Easter, but I think it might’ve actually been jelly beans. I can’t really remember.

Survivor’s Guilt could very well be something Chris suffers from, dating all the way back to the Mansion Incident in the first Resident Evil. He was one of few people who survived that entire incident and what happened afterward? Did he take a mental health break? Nope! Chris takes on a mission in Europe, as seen in Resident Evil 2 when Claire is going to Raccoon City to try and find her brother. 

Now let’s think about this. Rather than rest and recover from this event, he proceeds to pursue his investigation of the Umbrella Corporation. Chris is treated at the hospital and, despite trying to report their findings to the police chief, Irons, STARS is ultimately shut down. Chris then reports everything he needs to the FBI and even assaults a fellow officer.

The RPD tells Chris he needs a break and he says he’s going to Europe for a “vacation” but this was just an excuse to get to Europe in order to enact his vengeance on Umbrella for all the Hell it caused his city and possibly even the world.

That’s nuts. I wish I could do that at my work and get away with it. Just fight someone on the shift and then go to Corporate armed with nothing but a fry basket, ready to take them out.

This leads me to that fourth category: Alterations in arousal and reactivity. This is defined as reckless or self-destructive behavior, angry outbursts, hypervigilance, and even trouble sleeping.

This is entirely reckless. I mean, I get it. Going rogue because this company is obviously evil and has a hand in bio-terrorism. Yeah. That’s fair. Let’s take them out. But if only it were that easy, as we can see throughout the franchise. Despite Umbrella BARELY hiding their attempts at world domination, as seen in RE6, no one really flinches. They’re somehow still in the running.

Having said that, in Resident Evil 4, three years after RE3, Leon actually says in the introduction that Umbrella was wiped out by the investigation. Without digging into this, I’m presuming this is because Jill managed to escape Raccoon City and was able to report her findings as one of five survivors, six if you count Ada Wong. Which does make me wonder how they’re still hanging around like a more gruesome Team Rocket.

And the last category is Intrusive. Now, this is where this unravels, actually. Intrusive is basically intrusive thoughts. Those little thoughts or images that flash through just enough to unsettle you and if you’re like me and have diagnosed OCD, then you play these thoughts over and over in your head.

It’s like you want to go to the park. Okay, great, the park is outside. Nice. The outside is where people are. People aren’t that great, in my perspective. Bad people exist. Bad people like to hurt people. I’m a people that could be hurt by a bad person. Because of that, I can’t go to the park now. 

It’s like being stuck in a loop that wants you to be sad. Like, thank you brain. I just wanted to get stuck in the baby swing but now I’m going to sit on my phone and scroll through TikTok and be sad.

Intrusive thoughts are what had me curious. The intrusive category is actually where most people are commonly confused about what PTSD is as this is where we find that flashbacks fall into. A great example of a flashback in Resident Evil is actually in the fifth game. This is where Jill Valentine doesn’t really become Chris’ partner. We learn that during the last bout, they had against Wesker is where she’d fallen out the window as I mentioned earlier. This is explained in a flashback.

That’s interesting to me. Yes, from a storytelling perspective, it makes sense, but Chris remembers such vivid details, even Wesker’s eyes glowing.

But what’s interesting is, this event, in particular, seemed to affect Chris the most. Despite that his sister has been kidnapped by people affiliated with both Umbrella and Wesker, Jill’s “death” shook him up the most, which is fair. His best friend and partner throughout the entire thing, someone he shared his trauma with and even started the BSAA with was just gone. No even a body. Three months and nothing was found before she was declared dead. He dove into his work head-on, taking every mission he could!

This is why he takes deaths so personally. This is also shown in Resident Evil 6 when Piers, a young soldier who looked up to Chris and helped find him after he lost his memory after an incident with a fake Ada Wong, is infected with the zombie virus, he holds onto his humanity in order to save Chris, but ultimately does die in the underwater lab facility, supposedly by water pressure before losing his mind to the virus.

The former Alpha Team consisted of the following:

Chris Redfield

Albert Wesker

Barry Burton

Brad Vickers

Jill Valentine

Joseph Frost

All members of the original team that infiltrated the Spencer Mansion in RE1. Let’s go ahead and cross some people off.

Wesker? Dead as of Resident Evil 5. Good. Stay dead. You suck! You’re like the Capcom version of Ganondorf, just stay dead, dude!

Burton?  Alive, but hasn’t appeared in a main RE game since the first.

Vickers? Dead as of the third installment of the game. He was the pilot who sacrificed himself after being bitten during the attempted escape from Nemesis in Raccoon City before the place was blown sky-high. You actually see him later again in the third game attacking the cop you meet in the second Resident Evil, interestingly enough, but what’s sad really is that he still has some semblance of his humanity and ends up groaning out the cop’s name before attacking and infecting that man. Poor guy. Really was just a poor soul.

Moving on. Jill Valentine? Still alive and definitely kicking but she’s become more of an iconic character for the movies. So from a lore perspective, as of the end of 5, she is no longer in the main series that we’ve seen. Mostly just referenced. This might change however later on as I do believe there will be a ninth installment coming soon if not already in the works as of writing this.

Frost? Dead. He was actually the first to die as soon as they touched down at Spencer Mansion, by zombie-dogs, no less. He stood no chance.

That means, of the original team, Chris is the only one still active. This means that he is the most trained to handle situations from a tactical perspective, but not an emotional one.

I mean, we see him really weighing the whole situation in Resident Evil 8. He’s seen smoking a cigarette, clearly stressed out and tired of dealing with everything, despite creating an Anti-Umbrella team called Blue Umbrella. Yeah. Not that creative, my guy. But he’s tired of hearing and seeing people die which...is fair.

I’d say he does have PTSD and it is Survivor’s Guilt.

Yes, he and his team are ready to die, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s losing people he’s had long nights with, sharing beer, shooting pool, busting bad scientists with, and he still loses them.

In the military, a soldier doesn’t fear his own death but the death of his comrades.

Survivor’s Guilt is really just a terrible thing. I’d say actually several characters in the Resident Evil franchise have this, including poor Mia Winters!

Chris might have it but uses it to his advantage. He uses the knowledge he’s gained from staying alive in an attempt to help others stay alive and ultimately bring down the Umbrella Coorporation.

Ultimately, Chris Redfield seems to be wanting to make up for the lives lost to this organization.

Research links:

Coping with survivor’s guilt: https://artherapyinternational.org/blog/traumatic-events-coping-with-survivors-guilt-afterwards/

What is PTSD?  https://www.psychiatry.org/patients-families/ptsd/what-is-ptsd

Chris Redfield Bio https://residentevil.fandom.com/wiki/Chris_Redfield#Biography

Symptoms of Survivor’s Guilty: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/325578#symptoms

[avaantares]

(yet another) rant: Please stop with the frivolous Trigger Warnings

(Note: If you want to skip the recipe blog intro and get to the actual important stuff, scroll down to the header that says, "Which Warning to Use on Your Post")

Sooo I made a text post that had a few words in capital letters mixed in for effect (the rest of the text was in standard formatting). Someone reblogged it with the tags "tw: all caps" and "tw: capital letters."

The existence of these tags, specifically in the form of a trigger warning, struck me as weird. I mean, I can see why someone might be uncomfortable with an all-caps text block, if they've dealt with abusive/angry capslocked emails or something, and I can see how large blocks of capitalized text could be difficult to read, and some users might prefer to avoid them. But...

Limited capitalization as emphasis (e.g. dropping OH WAIT in the middle of otherwise lower-case text to indicate a shift in tone) does not present the same issues as a solid block of capslocked text;

I have not encountered this tag in the plethora of posts that employ the meme/joke format of subverting standard case usage or alternating case (yes, the SpongeBob meme is a thing with an actual academic definition, and it also predates the existence of SpongeBob by some decades); and

Most importantly, while formatting definitely affects user experience and can be worth tagging for that reason, I wouldn't have escalated it to the level of a trigger, which is a term with a pretty specific definition:

The concept of ‘triggering’ describes the re-experiencing of unpleasant PTSD symptoms such as intrusive thoughts being evoked by exposure to materials which spark traumatic memories. Hence, content warnings have a long presence in psychiatric literature. [source: Typology of content warnings and trigger warnings: Systematic review]

(Full disclosure for anyone who hasn't already learned from reading my rants: I have a background in behavior science, so I'm all about scientific definitions and correct application of same.)

But I thought that maybe I was misinterpreting what was being tagged, and I like learning what I should tag in future posts, so I thought I'd look deeper into those tags and see if I was missing something.

Welp. It sure was educational.

Turns out there are established "trigger warnings" on Tumblr for all of the following (not a comprehensive list; these are just the ones I also saw when scrolling through the caps tags, since many of those posts had more than one thing tagged):

any text with two or more capital letters in sequence

any text in italics

any text underlined

any text in boldface

any text in a font other than the default

any text in a color other than the default (as well as tags for each individual color)

images in black and white

images in color (how dare color exist)

images with... subjectively brighter? colors

images without ALT text

posts containing emoji

and my favorite entry, which for obvious reasons I can't describe by the content it's supposedly protecting us from:

"tw just in case"

O_o

So... where to even begin.

I guess I'll get the promised rant out of the way (for those of you who prefer to stay positive, skip ahead two paragraphs): It's no wonder that much of society mocks the very concept of trigger warnings, when they're used this... I have to come right out and say frivolously. Heck, even I'm having trouble taking the greater Tumblr community seriously right in this moment, and I've been part of it for *mumble* years and practically live here. Who in the academic/corporate/entertainment/quote-unquote real world is going to honor a request for content warnings when they see that the """kids these days""" consider italicized text a psychological trigger they need to be protected from? And you can just imagine some dudebro saying, "Wow, these special snowflakes are so fragile they're even traumatized by seeing color, lulz. We should see what really freaks them out!" ...and that won't end well.

The obvious rebuttal to that point is to argue that these tags aren't intended for use by the outside world, most of which already thinks Tumblr died years ago. Not that this has ever stopped Twitter and Reddit and Facebook users from screenshotting Tumblr posts to claim ownership of mock before, but honestly the extra-Tumblr world is the less important concern here, so I won't labor that point. The more immediate issue is how this affects Tumblr users, the Tumblr community, and the experience we're all so proud of being able to curate for ourselves.

The critical point is this: Tags exist for Tumblr users to find things of interest and avoid things they don't want to see. Warnings exist for Tumblr users to protect themselves. Conflating the two can cause not only confusion, but the opposite of the desired effect of being able to curate your experience.

Please note that it is not wrong to tag any of the things listed above. By all means, tag everything in your post! Tag away! Tag your text formatting and images and colors! Use that whole tag space so people can find/not find your content as desired! But none of these things should be categorized as trigger warnings. Trigger warnings, content warnings, and tags are all separate things, and should be used appropriately so people know what to look for/avoid in a post.

Now, you may well ask: Why do the semantics matter? If something's tagged, why does it matter how it's tagged? Isn't it better to warn people about anything and everything that they might possibly not like?

For those affected by PTSD, trauma, phobias, anxiety, psychosis, optically-sensitive medical conditions, etc., being able to trust tags -- and the community's overall reliability where they are concerned -- can be critical to their health and well-being. When the community's tags become imprecise, sloppy, or unspecified -- for example, when people start throwing tags like "tw just in case" on their posts instead of actually describing what is in the post -- it becomes unpleasant or even dangerous for those people to exist in that community. And although doubtless well-intentioned, the kind of overzealous helicopter tagging that labels things like text formatting or the presence of emoji as a trigger does two things: First, it can confuse filters and sandbag search results (for search purposes, tags are treated like a word bank, rather than individual line items). Second, it fosters a general lack of regard for real, life-threatening triggers. If Tumblr users get used to seeing every tiny little thing called out as a "trigger" -- trigger warning, there's a picture of a bird in this post! trigger warning, I can't spell so there's probably a word misspelled in this post! trigger warning, someone used a heart emoji in this post! trigger warning, here's a photo with the color orange in it! trigger warning, there's a banana in this post! Self image trigger warning, I'm having the worst hair day, lol! j/k! -- then subconsciously, "trigger warning" becomes synonymous with "lots of things random people find mildly annoying, so tag stuff if you happen to think of it" instead of "a few important things we should be diligent about tagging because someone's life might quite literally depend on it."

I know categorizing tags can be confusing, and in recent years there hasn't been much consistency in usage on Tumblr, so here's a cheat sheet to help you decide what warnings to use (and to be clear, I didn't make these up; these are sourced from academic literature and teaching guides, and were -- back in the Olden Days -- also more widely used on Tumblr.)

For a more thorough description of the most common types of content to post warnings about, see this PDF.

Which Warning to Use on Your Post:

Trigger warning (TW): Used to denote content that may trigger a PTSD episode, a severe psychological reaction, or a physiological reaction due to a medical condition (e.g. epilepsy). Broadly speaking, this warning is intended to mitigate risks that may exist because of a viewer's personal experience and/or medical status. Examples of things that should be tagged TW: sexual violence; child abuse; flashing gifs

Content warning (CW): Used to denote sensitive material that may make viewers uncomfortable or upset, or that some viewers may prefer not to see, but not necessarily invoke a traumatic personal experience. Broadly speaking, this warning is concerned with a viewer's comfort level. This can include general concepts (e.g. discussion of homophobia) as well as specific instances (e.g. use of homophobic language). Examples of things that should be tagged CW: racism; nudity; death

Descriptive tags (not warnings): Used to describe the content of a post, without value judgment, so that it is searchable and/or avoidable. (And also to write rambling comma-free essays, because Tumblr is just Like That. But that's a whole separate thing.) Examples of things that can be (generally) tagged: the themes or topics being discussed; black and white images; capitalized text; insects; the color green; memes; rainbows; digital art; literally anything else that appears in your post

Can people still dislike/be upset by things that aren't on a broadly-accepted TW/CW list? Absolutely. But that's not quite the same as a trigger, and that's why we also have general tags.

Here's an example of the difference between disliking or being triggered by content (source: "The right way to use a Trigger Warning," emphasis mine):

Trigger Warnings are here to prevent people who have experienced traumatic experiences to be exposed to something that might trigger a physical and/or mental reaction. Trigger is the key word here. “Trigger*” is used to talk about PTSD and mental illness. “Triggered” and “offended/upset” are not the same concept. I can be upset if I see a picture of a beautiful cake because I cannot bake, but it won’t trigger a post-traumatic reaction. 

You aren't going to be able to anticipate every single person's likes and dislikes, phobias, emotional associations, and so on. There's a temptation to try to cover every base imaginable, but that's actually... less than helpful. Actively unhelpful, in some cases. In addition to the reasons I cited earlier, here's an example of how "I'll tag it just in case someone doesn't like a thing" warnings can be confusing:

Let's say I have two followers: WingHater96 has a deep phobia of butterflies, while ButterSuperFly78 adores butterflies. Tagging a post "butterflies" helps them both navigate my feed more efficiently: WingHater96 can block the entire "butterfly" tag, while ButterSuperFly78 can search for it.

However, let's say I tagged that post in the form of a warning like "tw: butterflies" and hid it below a Read More just in case someone following me didn't like butterflies. WingHater96 would still have that post blocked, because it contains the word "butterfly" in the tag. It would also still appear in ButterSuperFly78's search results for the same reason -- the presence of the warning doesn't affect search results at all. But when ButterSuperFly78 sees the warning tag, they might now be confused about whether the post is full of pretty butterfly photography (which they would like to see), or if maybe the reason I put a warning on it is because it's about butterflies being harmed, because why else would you warn someone about butterflies when they're the best things ever? But wait, does OP know that they're the best things ever? Is the warning there because OP secretly hates butterflies?? Do they need to unfollow OP now because they're a butterfly-hater??? and ButterSuperFly78 would not know whether to view the post or scroll past until they psychoanalyze me to determine my personal feelings on butterflies.

Adding the warning provided zero additional benefit for the person who already had the tagged thing blocked, but it caused additional problems for the person actively seeking out that thing.

Obviously this is a bit exaggerated (...though, speaking from experience, only a bit), but it's a lot more efficient to just list the things that are in a post in the tags without framing them as warnings. That way, people with different likes and dislikes can curate their own experience more easily, and know to take trigger and content warnings more seriously when they DO appear.

-

TL;DR Trigger warnings exist to help people avoid PTSD or adverse psychological/physiological reactions. Casually throwing the word "trigger" in front of things that are not triggers makes people stop taking the need for warnings seriously, and can confuse people trying to curate their Tumblr experience. Reserve TW and CW for actual triggers/sensitive content and use standard tags for other things.

[lalazeewrites]

Ahhh, thank you so much for tagging me in such a fun quiz! I am LOVING reading everyone's answers! All of you make me smile so much 😍 @stocious @shinygalaxyperson @energievie 😍

what are some movie / tv quotes that you quote often?

"Keep it secret, keep it safe!" - LOTR (any time I hand anybody anything) "What, like it's hard?" - Legally Blonde A million quotes from Arrested Development, Seinfeld, and Simpsons, because I'm annoying.

what is your favorite flower?

Iris, tulip, daffodil, bleeding hearts.

if you were in avatar: the last airbender what element would you want to bend? earth, fire, water or air?

Water!

what was your first job?

An ice cream shop where I had to sing full length songs about ice cream and also sing every time I got tipped.

what is your favorite breakfast?

Difficult! I'm a breakfast PERSON as a LIFE RULE. I eat breakfast food often more than once a day. Maybe a giant waffle with all three of the fruits. Although my local place does a waffle with bacon and chocolate that I love. But when I say that, I miss meat. You see my problem. Scottish square sausage is the best sausage.

what’s a meal from childhood that you love?

Going fishing with my dad, he'd clean the fish outdoors (or have me scale & gut them), and then he'd fry them til super crisp over the fire, cooking in a pan with masses of butter and salt.

what’s your favorite joke to tell?

My kid is the joke-teller, I'm funny on the fly/in banter.

what’s your favorite animal to see at the zoo?

The reptile & amphibian house!

what’s your go to quick meal to cook / make at home?

Packet ramen that I load up with egg, meat, veggies etc. Chocolate chip pancakes. Omelets with whatever filling is in the fridge.

what’s your go to meal to cook someone to impress them?

Shrimp red curry from scratch, lamb & okra curry (recipe from my Pakistani ex-father-in-law), lasagna.

what’s something you want to do better?

I don't know. I try to be kind to myself and not give myself expectations that may fail, and rather try and work toward a general goal. Like, I would like to continue to learn and grow in handling my PTSD, triggers, and symptoms in a healthy way.

if you’re working do you like your job?

Yup! I love it! I haven't been able to work in 6 months, because of my spine injury, but I'll be back once I heal from surgery. I work at my daughter's grammar school as a recess and lunch monitor, so I get to see her every day, as well as her friends. We have a good time!

do you collect anything? what?                                              

I of course collect all my concert tickets. I collect horror movies, like I have hundreds of horror DVDs, a lot of them obscure (and many of them not). I've been collecting different editions of Anne Rice books since I was 11yrs old.

if you were trapped in a kids tv show, what show would you be okay with being trapped in?

Sailor Moon!

an adults tv show?

God, all the shows I watch & love are all so fucking fraught with Horrors LOL Can I be on Supernatural as long as y'all promise I don't end up like all the other women on the show?

what kind of job did you want as a child?

I wanted to be a garbage lady!!! I wanted to actively help save the environment lol. So, I was always really happy when the garbage people came along to take away the trash and recycling. Later, I wanted to go into zoology. (Didn't do any of those things, I got a scholarship in Theater & Arts lol)

do you follow any sports? what team do you root for?

GLASGOW CELTICS MON THE CELTICS

if you could be any animal what would you be and why?

I've always wanted to be a sea turtle! Drifting and dreaming through the pretty seas and having a million lovely beautiful babies.

if you could be any mythological creature what would you be and why?

Probably like a pan. Y'know, with the goat legs, playing music all day and getting drunk, partying with the other forest fae.

what’s the most obscure thing you’ve had to google for a fanfic you were writing/reading?

I was definitely googling how nuclear power reactors function for Star Trek fic and learned more than I imagined I would lol.

what milkovich do you identify with most?

Ooof, of course Mickey. Growing up terrified of a severely abusive father who would snap at the smallest thing, having an eastern european immigrant family, growing up with anger issues but being excessively soft on the inside, and hey, my parents are chicago born-bred folks (first generation american).

which one are you actually like the most?

ughhhhh. . .Why I gotta decide?! Mickey lol.

what gallagher do you identify with most? 

Fiona. She had to deal with Frank the most. My dad is a lot a lot a lot like Frank (narcisstic alcoholic genius level asshole who is happy to abandon their kid & make them feel bad about it instead of taking responsibility), to the point where I will sometimes get triggered by his presence in an episode and have to stop watching for months at a time when I was first watching the show. She's always trying her best to be everything for everyone, usually to the detriment of her own personal identity and happiness. She's absolutely easily the most like me.

 which one are you actually like the most?

No, still Fiona lol

[sortofanobsession]

Intrusive Thoughts and Gambling (911 "Mixed Feelings" Episode Coda Buddie focused) Spoilers!

Author's Note: Intrusive thoughts are usually mental health related. And Eddie is a PTSD mess. I can't recall if they explicitly say it in the show, but he is. And Intrusive thoughts are a PTSD (and OCD) symptom. So if you guys get them, you are not alone. Please note I do not have PTSD or OCD. I have ADHD, anxiety, depression, and aphantasia. So I have a lot of self-doubt and some intrusive thoughts, but not the same way someone like Eddie might. So this is me basically guessing for the sake of storytelling. But hopefully, it is enjoyable. Unbeta'd.

Edit: Eddie's intrusive thoughts in this are more anxiety and in the moment based than actual PTSD thoughts. The PTSD mention is him trying to explain away what is happening, even if it isn't accurate. Just stubborn Eddie being stubborn.

Content warning: Intrusive thoughts (I mean, it's in the title), PTSD, anxiety, doubt, self-esteem issues, gambling, relationship uncertainty, swearing, pining, gay thoughts (not a bad thing but could still be triggering so I'm tagging it)

Buddie centric events from 6x13 "Mixed Feelings"

Eddie's intrusive thoughts are in quoted italics.

“You brought this on yourself, Eddie.” Eddie’s brain tells him. “Buck looks fucking fantastic in that outfit, and that’s because you told him to dress nice. And Buck understood the assignment this time.  A+. Gold Star. Job well done by him. That button-down that looks stupid good on him.” And Buck just had to pick a jacket Eddie just wanted to touch. His fingers itched to just reach out and run down Buck’s arm, or side, or anywhere. “Yeah, that would go over like a lead balloon.” Eddie knows it. He needs to get a grip on himself. His brain betrays him and really leans into that idea and the idea of it not just being him to grip his… “Nope, stupid brain, not like that. Focus. This is supposed to be about utilizing Buck’s newfound trauma-gifted math prowess.“

He gets why Buck is uneasy about all this. But why did Eddie feel so nervous? Why had he taken so damn long to actually pick a suit? He thinks about the last time he had so much trouble picking out a suit with Ana, and that had landed him in the ER with a panic attack. But this…this was different. His heart was pounding for a very different reason. Excitement. This was him and Buck doing something sketchy. And it feels right. Like that little adrenaline rush, he gets when they work on a dangerous call. But more not really. That’s not exactly what he feels. He feels…yeah, okay. He feels like he’s going on a first date. He thinks about his own first dates. Then he thinks about what he knows about Buck’s first dates. He thinks about what Carla and Bobby, hell even Buck, have told him about the disastrous first date he had with Abby. He literally choked. Buck nearly died. But this isn’t- No, this is him and Buck. They’re best friends, and they hang out all the time. With and without Christopher. Then why does this feel so different? Is it because he wishes it was a first date? Eddie has to quit thinking about that. Buck is talking to him. He has to focus. Buck needs to relax. And for Buck to relax, Eddie needs to help him. “Oh, I know what would make him relax. Oh, so many ideas. No, brain…no. Don’t even. The suit stays clean. So keep it clean, brain. Focus.”  

Eddie won't lie. He loves knowing things that Buck doesn’t, but mostly he likes how happy surprises, the good kind, make his best friend. Sure, Buck might have had his doubts about where Eddie was taking him, but he didn’t resist. He trusts Eddie as Eddie trusts him. 

Eddie looks at the people around them. They know these people, at least a number of them. Yeah, this is a date night situation. And by the knowing looks he getting from a few of them, they see what Eddie wishes was true. But Eddie is selfish. He wants Buck. The whole lightning strike had made that very clear. It had been like his heart was ripped out of his chest when Buck was in the coma. He also doesn’t want to lose what they have. He doesn’t want to put himself on the line and risk losing Buck. He just got him back. 

At the table, when Buck looks at him, somewhat unsure, Eddie knows what to do. Encouraging him. “Buck thrives on assurance and praise.” Eddie always has a hard time nailing down how he feels when Buck looks at him like that. Part of him is overjoyed that Buck looks at him for assurance. That Eddie’s praise is something that Buck looks for. Or, more important, right now, he trusts Eddie to know what to do. He knows Eddie isn’t going to intentionally steer him wrong more often than not. But part of it tugs at Eddie’s heart differently. He knows Buck isn’t always the most confident man he sometimes presents. He knows that Buck has self-esteem issues. Buck so often doubts himself and his decisions. “He deserves better, and you have to make sure he gets it. With or without you.” Yeah, Buck needed that. Buck doesn’t think Buck deserves good things or to be happy. He’s gotten better about it. The coma, oddly enough, had helped a bit with that. But the way he is looking to Eddie now, this is more of Buck being unsure about what Eddie has gotten them into. Eddie doesn’t have those doubts. He knows Buck can do this. The easiest way to assure his partner is a smile and nod. And it seemed to work because Buck becomes more of his usual self as the night goes on. Probably aided by the fact they do know the people around them. So Eddie lets himself enjoy the evening. The drinks and nonchalance were more than just a cover for doing something potentially sketchy with people who are technically their superior. He was content, happy. Buck was there, seemingly having a good time, embracing this new aspect of his life. They were socializing outside their tight-knit team, as people tell them they often should. These are still people they trust. They literally trust these people with their lives, especially Chief Williams and Captain Mehta. Buck trusted them. Eddie did, without a doubt. Mehta had kept them both alive when Eddie was shot. “He did what you couldn’t.” He had kept Buck from getting shot. And that meant more to Eddie than anyone could possibly know. Buck’s survival was increasingly essential for Eddie’s sanity. “Proved that during the lawsuit. Just ask Frank.” Eddie shakes himself. “Shut up, stupid thoughts. Frank says you’re just PTSD. ” Yeah, PTSD. He was working on that. Getting out and doing something safe, something grown-up with people he trusts. He was doing that. Frank would say that was a good thing, right? Maybe not the manipulating the game part, but it wasn’t illegal. So that’s better than his previous choices. “Focus.”   

But then Buck is smiling and looking over at Eddie as the chief asks him how he wants his winnings. And Eddie’s pretty sure his heart melts. Those stupid blue eyes shine with excitement and always has that warm feeling spreading in Eddie’s chest. Eddie smiles back without thinking because that’s just how he is around Buck. He genuinely doesn’t care how Buck answers the question. Eddie is just beyond happy at how well Buck had done. How well Buck handled the entire situation. And how happy Buck seemed to be. That smile on Buck’s face made Eddie’s heart soar every damn time. 

“I guess you were right, Eddie,” Buck grins. “Low steaks.”

“His humor was unaffected by the lightning,” Eddie says. Internally his brain adds, “You want to smile. You want to laugh. And you know it. You love his dumb humor.” How such a ridiculous man could have a stranglehold on Eddie’s heart is something he will never fully understand. Buck could be so frustrating and so ridiculous, but damn it, he adored him. Buck could be almost insufferable at times. Almost. Eddie would gladly suffer for Buck’s attention. Buck’s dumb puns, tangental rants on the most random topics, and an inability to know when he should probably shut that beautiful mouth of his were just part of what made Buck…Buck. And Eddie loved every second of it. If that meant Eddie had to be on his toes to wrangle Buck in every now and again, both on and off duty, Eddie would do it in a heartbeat as long as Christopher was taken care of. And Eddie didn’t have to worry about Christopher when Buck was around. He was always Buck’s number-one priority. And that, that had been what had started Eddie down this path. Buck and Christopher. The only people Eddie truly needed in his life. He loved his family and his team, but at the end of the day, nothing and no one mattered as much to him as those two. His job was near the top of his priorities. If only because keeping his job meant he had everything he needed for Christopher, but also that he could keep Buck safe. Keep him alive. He’d almost lost him too many times to risk not being there now. “And now we’re back to not wanting to jeopardize how things are. It always comes back to that.” He knew he loved his best friend. “But do the others know? You have never been subtle when it comes to him.” He’s pretty sure even Chief Williams and Captain Mehta know now. If they don’t, they probably have their suspicions. 

“Do you think she knows?” Buck asks him. And Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that because his mind had asked the same question, and it took him a minute to realize that Buck was asking about the card games. She might not know, but this would not be something they make a regular thing. The cards with the chief, that is. Eddie would love to take Buck out for another night like this. One where they could just have fun, win a few games, and just be the two of them, surrounded by strangers that Eddie didn’t care about. That would be amazing. More like an actual date than…there his brain goes again. “A date.” This wasn’t actually a date. It may have felt like the perfect opportunity, but it still wasn’t one. It was just another opportunity for Eddie to show off how amazing a guy Buck is. To show off how proud he is of his best friend. To bask in how lucky he is that Buck is in his life. That he is his best friend. Does he wish he was more than just his best friend? Of course. Was he willing to risk their friendship by asking for more? Hell no. Not yet. He just got Buck back. This…this was enough. Just bumping shoulders with him as they leave the building was more than enough. For now.   

[writingbrainrot]

Hey. Allow me to introduce myself

Member in a system (i dislike roles but i'd technically be a reluctant host)

Neurodiverse af, disabled af and qpoc af

Body is 25*

I need a body double to start writing again ;__;

We prefer discord cus pluralkit but also just easier to have all communication in one place

We suck at replying on other platforms

If you are 22-30 and want to write together and also talk about blorbos and you're accepting of someone saying "hey saying that hurts me, could you not?" And capable of saying it back when you're hurt then lesgo 👉😊👉

(Aka im ok with people making honest mistakes but not wanting to fix them and grow, that just doesn't work with where i am in life atm)

If you identify as conservative, right-wing, anarchist or communist (USSR definition, not US's weird definition that just means empathy=communist) person then please do not message me. Biological family are survivors of the genocides done by soviet so let's just spare us all the pain and not interact/gen

What we write if that's important:

We're self-published and write as diverse stories as possible, in whatever genre we feel like (the main one tends to be slice of life though) that are meant to be accessible to people currently experiencing brainfog aka what we needed and still need/lh

Potential cons of knowing us/dealbreakers depending on who you are:

•Strongly opinionated on the opinions we have solidified based on the best info we can access. Examples:

"don't be a dick, if you are being one, fix that" or "human rights are not up for negotiation" or "genocide bad regardless of who it is done on" (surprised how often i have to state these/gen) but also ones that seem silly and yet i feel strongly about like "having problematic faves". Loving barbie/disney/veggietales while wholly rejecting the companies. Trying to see things in a more nuanced way etc etc

•i'm both spiritual and scientific

•body eats meat cus traditions and health

•may disappear from time to time for a few days up to a week cus crashes happen despite our best efforts

•c-ptsd but like.... i think that's a given on this site/lh

•We're also not good people. Not the worst but not good people, we're just people.

•so many special interests, obscene amount because of above c-ptsd/masking

•oh also if you're drawn to talk to me but currently think you're NT.... you may discover you relate to me a bit too much and realise you were less NT and more ND than you thought. Many a friends have discovered their diagnoses solely by us sharing our symptoms so like, if you don't want a/another diagnosis, steer clear?/lh

•learning to unmask so we get more and more "blunt" every week

•we also like to talk, v social and we will penguin pebble because sending things to friends is fun ^__^

•when triggered, our communication dramatically gets worse and more frantic (i think this is normal but at this point i'm not sure anymore)

Fave quotes:

"Let the world we dream about be the one we live in now"

"What would you take from a burning building?

Anyone can answer that, the fire"

"I feel weak

You've never looked stronger"

"Tu fui, ego eris"

"Fortuna favet fortibus"

[onefite]

10 Common Symptoms of a Mental Breakdown

10 Common Symptoms of a Mental Breakdown Introduction Feeling overwhelmed or having a tough time coping? You’re not alone. Many of us go through periods where it feels like the world is crashing down around us. This state often signals a mental breakdown, a term that describes a period of intense mental distress. During this time, managing day-to-day tasks can feel impossible. By understanding…

[liminalpsych-in-teyvat]

Notes for A Matter of Duty - Chapter 6: The depths beckon

Hoooo boy. That only took forever to write. "How about a soft vanilla sex scene," I said. "It'll be great for the story," I said. Well, we see how that turned out. This is about as vanilla as I can write. And about as soft. (Do I get an award for trying, at least?)

It's not meant to be the best pr0n. The rising tension kept getting derailed by Ayato's trauma responses, which is fairly accurate to how trauma can be experienced (and can interfere with sex or other kinds of intimacy), but then figuring out how to get back to the sex and rising tension was a trial every time.

I kept having quotes in the marginalia by medieval monks going through my head the past few days as I banged my head against the wall of this story. Wednesday: "I think I can finish this chapter today!" 2000 words later, still not done. Thursday: "Definitely today though." Nope. Friday: "…if I don't finish the chapter today, I will scream." But I did it, so that's a relief. (Now to repeat the cycle over again.)

I know shogi is seen and mentioned more than Go with the Kamisatos (though both of the games come up), but I have way more access to useful Go analogies and information and I already know the basics of Go. There's a whole shelf of Go books in my house because my nesting partner played very seriously for many years, and I can have them check over my Go scenes which is super helpful. I'd have to do a lot more studying to be able to write Shogi symbolism. Honestly, I feel like Go is a more appropriate game for the Kamisatos anyway, and makes for better metaphors in the political games Ayato is playing. My headcanon is that Ayato plays shogi with Thoma because it's easier for outlanders to get decent at playing it, whereas Go is simple to learn but incredibly complex to master. Ayaka is probably just barely a 1 kyū equivalent at this point in her life; by the time the Traveler arrives in Inazuma she'd be far higher. Ayato's probably around a 3 dan. Thoma would be an unranked beginner. (The ranks probably aren't used in Inazuma at this time, so this is just for conceptualizing handicap stones.)

One of the main areas I specialize in as a psychotherapist is trauma and PTSD. You'd think this would make it easy to find pithy resources on PTSD to stick in the Further Reading section, but instead it's hard because all the shorter, layperson-accessible articles are dissatisfying. I have lots of book recommendations, but that seems outside the scope of this list. (Complex PTSD by Pete Walker is my top recommendation for trauma books. Just ignore anything he says about mental health conditions that aren't PTSD.)

References, resources, and further reading:

Coping with flashbacks, nightmares, and intrusive thoughts: Explanations of re-experiencing symptoms in trauma, and coping strategies to deal with them. (Ayato was not using many coping strategies, and was in fact just "pushing through" the memories which just meant he kept dissociating. Don't do this if you have other options, because it can complicate the trauma responses and add referred triggers. Ayato is not handling his issues very well, don't do what he's doing.)

Depersonalization: A form of dissociation that Ayato was struggling with.

Symptoms of PTSD and complex PTSD: Pretty decent explanation of the symptoms and differences between PTSD and complex PTSD. (I mostly work with and experience complex PTSD, so that's more of what will show up in my writing.)

Yukata: Some history of the yukata and how it's worn.

Edo Measurements: The mō referenced a couple times is the smallest unit of measurement in the traditional, pre-metric Japanese system of measurement. It equates to 0.03030 mm or 0.001193".

Etiquette, Attitudes, Advice in the Game of Go: Of course Go has ritualized etiquette standards.

Tips and Advice on Go Etiquette: A little more contemporary etiquette but some of it still applies to historical politeness rules.

Go Proverbs: Ayaka referenced a couple of these.

Lessons in the Fundamentals of Go: I just browsed my partner's shelf of Go books, but it turns out one of the better books I referenced is available in .pdf form.

Anal training: This one's a more succinct, direct overview than some of the links from the previous chapter.

Bottoming 101: A reasonably thorough guide to bottoming in anal sex.

How to make bottoming easier: Tips and tricks for safe anal sex.

Summary of the fic itself with content warnings, tags, etc so you can decide if you want to read it or not before you click on the link.

A Matter of Duty

"Back then, I had no choice but to accept the position I was in. While I desperately looked around for powerful supporters, I endured smear campaigns and attempts to exploit me. I had no other choice… I didn't mind what became of me, but my family… No one can ever be allowed to trample over my precious family."

How Ayato secured powerful supporters, endured exploitation, and weathered the storm of the years following the death of his parents… and how Thoma helped him contend with a bunch of self-serving, degenerate public officials.

And how, after much stilted fumbling and well-intended sacrifice, they learned the truth of one another's hearts.

Note: Mind the tags. More specific content warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter, and the story tags will be updated as needed. All characters involved in any sex scenes are adults.

Rating: Explicit. It's porn with plot. Porn as a vehicle for plot, or plot as a vehicle for porn, you can interpret it either way. (I prefer: porn and plot as a vehicle for ~feels~)

Tags that I'm not actually turning into tags here, but it gives you an idea of what you're in for: Kamisato Ayato/Thoma (Genshin Impact), dubious consent but not between Ayato and Thoma, slow burn, sex ed, first time, self-sacrifice, humiliation, exhibitionism, oral sex, anal sex, bdsm, bad bdsm etiquette, rough sex, breath play, impact play, bondage, service kink, abuse, sadism, codependency, shame, guilt, jealousy, possessiveness, trauma, ptsd, dissociation, political sex work, or sex work for political maneuvering, or political survival sex work if that’s a thing, exploitation, blackmail, political machinations, political intrigue, no aftercare, maybe someday some aftercare, hurt/comfort, mostly hurt for a long time but eventually comfort, oblivious disaster gays, for such socially savvy people they are terrible at personal relationships, dominant Ayato, submissive Thoma, top Ayato, bottom Thoma, Ayato is incredibly parentified, Thoma has no sense of self-preservation, self-sacrifice isn't a contest but don't tell Ayato and Thoma that, it's like the snipe-the-check game at restaurants but with sex and politics, Kushiel's Impact, no really this was in my drafts for the longest time as Kusheline Thomato Fic, everyone's an adult in this timeline except Ayaka, she gets protected at all costs, original characters out of necessity, finding appropriate existing Inazuma npcs for some of these roles was impossible, no beta we die like ayato's parents, let Kamisato Ayato say fuck, dead dove: do not eat, no seriously please mind the tags

Full fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47604337?view_full_work=true

Chapter 6 - The depths beckon: A game of Go, gathering strength, and finally: fumbling through more first-time sexual experiences.

Chapter contains: anal sex, first time, teasing, some power dynamics, subspace/topspace (kind of), sex while having a trauma response, flashbacks, dissociation, guilt/shame, self-loathing, dishonesty/lying

[maynardotheratman]

Rambling about age play and how it hurts victims

Trigger warnings: CSA, pedophilia, and mental illness. If you are a minor I strongly encourage you not to read or interact with this post.

So I have a confession. When I was younger I used to be into “ageplay”.

I say this in air quotes bc I was introduced to this “kink” at the age of 12. At this point in time I had just barely began to recognize my own history of CSA and incest, and I was also struggling with sh and mental illness. I also (unknowingly) experienced impure age regression in response to certain triggers and would regress to childish behaviors. (I still do this but I am more self aware)

Overall this combination mixed with how normalized predatory behavior towards me felt was extremely detrimental to me and only served to worsen my trauma and ptsd symptoms.

I was not properly educated on the difference between age play and age regression and assumed that my age regression was inherently sexual. Overall this was extremely detrimental to my already traumatized and developing mind. Even after I stopped engaging with this kink, I still was stuck in a continuous cycle of compulsive seeking out predatory partners who would take advantage of me and sexualize my perceived childlike behavior and tendencies. I was groomed by multiple people online which I learned to justify in my head and I was overall indifferent to my own mental suffering when it came to toxic and abusive dynamics.

Because of my own experience and because of the behavior I’ve seen from others who engage in this kink I wholeheartedly believe that this kink is a way for pedophiles to engage in their fantasies of abusing children by taking advantage of survivors of CSA and incest.

I can understand and empathize with people who engage in this kink as the “little”. Many are csa victims much like myself who have normalized this behavior as acceptable (mostly due to their own negative self believes they developed from the abuse. Believing it’s acceptable behavior because it’s happening to THEM) and if you are someone who engages in this kink as a little I see you and I understand you. I cannot control your actions or behaviors however I do implore you to seek help and therapy if you can to work through your trauma in a healthy way.

However I do believe there is a-lot of harm that you as the little contribute to when talking about and advocating for this kink does, not just to yourself but to other victims. I was introduced to this kink by someone my age who was a little and while I luckily did not engage in this kink in any public spaces and did not talk about it often, I do feel shame and disgust at the thought that I could’ve unknowingly introduced someone else to this kink and continued the cycle. To clarify, most of the fantasies I engaged in were engaged through reading and writing, and occasionally role play. For the most part I kept it to myself.

I do ask you as a victim to question why anyone would find sexual satisfaction in someone behaving and regressing in a child like manner. Not just because it is you who they are engaging with, but because they fetish childlike behavior. Please recognize that you are most likely enabling a pedophile in acting out their fantasies. Just because both of you are able to consent does not mean that this should be acceptable.

“But why would you care so much about what two consenting adults do” I normally don’t. Generally I am a very accepting person when it comes to most kinks, even one’s I personally am uninterested in, but I draw the line at anything that corrupts or defiles childhood.

This is not “harm reduction” for pedophiles. Research shows that people who watch violent pornography are more likely to normalize and engage in those behaviors, and I wholly believe this logic can be applied to pedophiles. The only harm reduction that exists for pedophiles is therapy (if they have not offended) or death (if they have offended)

If you are someone who engages in this kink as the caregiver, you disgust me. Regardless of whether you are engaging in this behavior with a consenting partner or not, you are still taking advantage of a SA survivor and I hope you seek help before you harm an actual child because once you do you are irredeemable garbage who deserves a fate worse than death. Pedos are less than human in my eyes and should be put down like a rabid animal to protect the rest of the world from them.

I wanted to talk about this because I rarily see people who are former littles talk about this due to shame, and I am hoping that with me doing this it will encourage other littles to speak out and hopefully stop engaging in this behavior.

Up to a certain extent I believe that former littles should be offered grace and the chance to grow as a human being. I think shaming them only serves to continue this harmful cycle for everyone involved. I say up to a certain extent because I do believe there are littles out there who cross that threshold into irredeemable behavior.

[treadmilltreats]

PTSD in relationships

So recently, I wrote about the effects of PTSD. Today, I want to get into another kind of PTSD.

Relationship PTSD, or post-traumatic relationship syndrome (PTRS) as it is sometimes called, refers to the response a person may have to one or more exposures to a traumatic event within the context of a relationship. While you are in these types of relationships, verbal, physical, emotional, psychological, or sexual.

It has been shown to leave lasting marks.

PTRS results in some PTSD symptoms, but often with more intensely emotional reactions that often lead to negative social interactions.

Due to the slow and insidious nature of PTRS, you might not notice symptoms until after the relationship ends. The relational patterns and relationship itself, rather than a single event, become the trauma. You may notice that you have lower self-esteem, blame yourself for relational troubles, feel more insecure than you once did, or overthink in relationships.

In this state, you have triggers, and it feels like you are reliving the events you went through. You may have nightmares about your previous relationships. You may jump from one relationship to another or pick the same kind of man. (Sounds familiar? It would if you read my blogs)

Little things may set you off, like someone belittling you or trying to control you. Other people like your boss or co-workers may trigger this response in you.

These are all the lasting effects of the abuse. Even for me, who has been divorced for the last 11 years, I still kept picking the same kind of men afterward. Even when I thought I was out and doing better. I don't have depression, I am not usually anxious, but boy put me in a situation where someone is acting like my ex, and here it comes, rushing back like it was yesterday.

This is when we must realize what is happening to us again and get the help we need. This will never go away unless you address it. You need to learn your triggers and how to deal with them.

So today, my friends, I am here to help you with your mental health as I am working on my own. We may think we are better because we are no longer in that abusive relationship, but the side effects linger on. We must always try to improve ourselves, and we must realize when we have a problem and seek a solution. As I say at the end of every blog, only you can be the change you want to see.

"Be the change you want to see,"

@TreadmillTreatsCheck out my daily blogs @ https://treadmilltreats.blogspot.com/?m=1

Www.treadmilltreats.com

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The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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[positivementalaxolotl]

Just a reminder:

TW the use of reclaimed language. "Queer" and "Fag" are reclaimed, and you can absolutely use those terms to identify with all you want, but other people are uncomfortable with it. People have legit trauma surrounding these kinds of words and it's not fair to such a large portion of people that when they get a flashback, you tell them to suck it up. I recently RBed a post saying this exact same thing because someone was making fun of people asking them to TW the word Faggot. I want to make it VERY clear right now: It was the full word, which does hold a lot more power then the shortened Fag. Faggot has a very long, very violent and lethal history. Even today people are called faggot in a derogatory way, and are bullied relentlessly. This causes trauma and PTSD which not only is a mental health concern, but has physical symptoms. I wanted to clear up some things that were being said in the replies before the replies were turned off.

It doesn't matter how the word is being used, if it's used everyone in the vicinity needs to be okay with it and you need to know if it is or isn't beforehand.

Trauma isn't just getting "slightly uncomfortable", it's flashbacks and panic attacks and long depressive episodes and periods of paranoia. Someone literally said what's in the quotes and I had to hold myself back from being toxic fr. Not a very common urge of mine, btw.

The original post wasn't about getting "cancelled", they RBed it with a screenshot of someone saying "trigger warnings would be nice" and then proceeded to make fun of people who need trigger warnings.

Queer isn't a new slur: When I was in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL it was still a common slur, and that was 2007-2012. I guarantee you it was a common slur long before that too. To the person saying it wasn't a common slur until 2018 when "radfems and terfs were using it" stfu you literally don't know what you're talking about. There's no nicer way to say that.

People aren't pussies or snowflakes because they have triggers. Wait- did someone actually... Yeah someone in the replies DID call people snowflakes, you know, like conservatives have been calling the gays for about a decade now- I wonder what the connection there is. (It's that you're wrong and an insensitive jerk-)

PTSD and traumatic flashbacks don't just happen randomly. They don't always start from words or visuals. ANY sensation can cause flashbacks. You'd be surprised how many people get massive flashbacks from familiar smells and textures.

Triggers aren't something that you just "get over" and you can't just decide to take back the slur when that slur is a trigger for you. The people who were talking about how "freeing reclaiming a slur" is, or "Got called a slur but I got over it" don't understand that that isn't a possibility for everyone. You can't sit there and tell a huge group of people to embrace this word and get over being called it when MOST of the people telling them to use a tw are telling them to because *gasp* they have triggers, and therefore CAN'T get over the use of the word, and CAN'T feel free with it. You can't be triggered AND free from triggered language.

It's really not that hard to put a TW in your tags, would you rather take the 2 seconds it takes to do that or cause several people terrible episodes for the next 2 weeks. The tagging system and removal is there for a reason, these people took the time to properly put their triggers in the removal system, you need to make sure that those systems work because otherwise it's completely pointless.

People with trauma shouldn't be shoved off of the internet just because they have trauma. This is literally the exact same thing that us Queer people have been fighting for for so long: To be included and accepted. You can't fight for acceptance then turn around and fight people on the ethics of you being a jackass and other people should deal with you being a jackass and if they don't like it then they're snowflakes. It's the exact same thing homophobes and transphobes are saying everywhere and hypocritical. If you're a jackass then you're the one in the wrong and keeping you here and getting rid of good people would just make the internet a statistically worse place to be. You need to be the one to leave.

"Tranny" isn't a widespread reclaimed word. MOST trans people are still really uncomfortable with it, if it's freeing for YOU then good for you, but not everyone is you and you need to respect that.

Many people don't want to reclaim these words because of fear that homo/transphobes will pick them back up and use them for actual harm. We need to also respect people with this fear because words don't only have the power you give them. It has the power that ANYONE gives them, so a father telling his son to hate "trannies and queers" is still a negative power that can do actually PHYSICAL harm to others. If derogatory language is used, and they know it's derogatory, it can cause these people to be more aggressive when fighting back. This isn't just about people with triggers, but for anyone who uses these words for any reason.

This is all the same with racial slurs too. If using them empowers you, great, but it can cause problems for other people. All you gotta do is put a tw or ask people if they're okay with it. It's not that hard.

People shouldn't feel uncomfortable because of your labels. I don't mean "Homophobes shouldn't feel uncomfortable because you say you're gay/trans", because there's nothing wrong with being gay or trans and those words don't have a long negative history. Those are simple adjectives that haven't been used to hurt people. (Gay has been, and people probably do have trauma associated with it, but it's not a very common one because gay's history may have been negative, but it wasn't nearly as long as queer or faggot) This doesn't just mean other people who are queer. CisHet people also shouldn't be made uncomfortable with this language either, because they know the history behind it, maybe they were called these slurs even though they aren't a part of the community, maybe it makes them uncomfortable because their families are phobic and/or they have gay friends who don't like these words. Maybe they used to be phobic themselves and don't want to be reminded of that because they've grown and become a better person.

I want to make sure you guys know about this: I have a STRANGE trigger. When I see a marching band or see people marching, it causes flashbacks. I get thrown right back into those awful moments in my life and it causes depressive episodes that last weeks at least, and months at worst. It's not a trigger I can realistically ask others to TW for me. (Obviously you CAN, but I can understand why you wouldn't too.) I don't want possibly tens to hundreds of people to be put on the same boat as me just because people are being too lazy and passive-aggressive to put a tw in their tags. If you forget to that's one thing, but actively refusing to is unacceptable, and bullying people for having triggers should have you in jail because what happened IS BULLYING and causes trauma in and of itself, mixsed with the reclaimed language? If you don't want to tag it, don't say it or talk about it. You'd probably be fuming if the same thing were happening with other kinds of common triggers, and the thing is that PTSD can be just as strong with reclaimed language as it is with other things that I know you'd be pissed about.

I don't have a problem with the words queer, fag, or faggot, but getting so bent about putting a tw in your tags is the ableist version of conservatives getting bent about pronouns in bios. If you can't respect people with common triggers, get the hell off the internet and learn how to be a decent human being before coming back.