#and healing and whatnot

[acowardinmordor]

I was thinking about how self destruction is a form of running away. So I was thinking about Eddie self destructing in the aftermath of something awful happening. Then I saw several things with rockstar eddie and paramedic steve. Then I thought about how to make it more painful.

And I'm just gonna go ahead and put it under a cut. Bc Ow. Warnings for injuries, drugs, alcohol, AIDS, and the like. idek if its good. just thinking about it.

Eddie's best friend Chrissy came with him when they left their small town, and they kept each other afloat until someone signs Eddie and he becomes a rising star. She's with him for the parties, the fights, the late nights. They're not together, but they've hooked up several times over the years. It's just how they are.

But its the late 80s and the early 90s, and they're both queer enough that AIDS is inescapable. They've gone to more funerals than someone that young should have to see. They've watched friends go to the doctor about a rash and come back with a death sentence.

So yeah, they party, they drink, they hook up with people, but they're both careful. No shared needles, always wearing condoms.

Except careful isn't enough.

It's through something impossible to predict. An injury. A car crash. Visiting a sick friend who can't stop coughing. Both of them are there, because they're almost always together. Both of them get the same exposure. But its just Chrissy that gets sick. gets tested. gets the news. HIV positive.

And Eddie won't run. He won't leave her alone. They've seen too many friends die alone. He won't run, but he will self destruct.

He starts to spiral on the fact that she got sick and he didn't. That he's always been less careful than her. That he's taken risks and woken up next to people he doesn't remember.

That between the two of them, Chrissy is the one who is good and kind and who deserves to have a long beautiful life. Eddie is, and has always been the fuck up. Worse. Everyone knows that this is the gay disease. Chrissy isn't straight, but she was a lot straighter before she became Eddie's friend. Didn't go to parties like this or drink like this.

So we have Eddie self destructing, he isn't trying to catch it. He's terrified of it. He's terrified every time he sees her. But he is taking stupider risks, and drinking more, and taking more and mixing more drugs.

There's a bad stretch. Eddie wakes up with strangers and track marks. Chrissy's family finds out and disown her. Eddie gets tested. Chrissy gets a bad cold. Eddie gets yet another negative test.

So after his next show - generating buzz as they start to talk about a tour next spring - Eddie spirals, gets shitfaced, blackout drunk, high on who-knows-what, and tries to fight some guys. It takes one shove for Eddie to be flat on his ass with blood on his face.

Paramedics get called.

Steve listens to this guy half incoherently begging for them to go help Chrissy instead. How Eddie deserves to die and she doesn't. That she's his best friend, that she's everything, that she-- They ask what he took and they ask if he has any medical conditions or illnesses they need to know about. Eddie goes hysterical, talking about how he should have it, but he doesn't, because Chrissy does instead.

They get him to a hospital for observation and a few stitches.

There's no reason for it to matter. Eddie is too out of it to remember the paramedic he sobbed on outside of a bar. Steve could go home after his shift and never think of him again. But something about it echoed with how he and Robin are. So, after a 12 hour shift, Steve goes to sit with Eddie - this gorgeous, broken hearted man who is cracking apart because he's helpless to save his friend.

That's it.

That's what I want as the set up of a story that starts with Steve being sent on a call to help a guy who is on the edge of overdosing. Then let it get into the guilt and the fear, and the need to help.

And because I'm feeling kind this evening: Chrissy lives. It's terrifying. Every cold and cough and injury feels a thousand times worse, but she's lucky. It never progresses to AIDS.

[hoofpeet]

Hehe...

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny Phantom was not used to fighting magic users. Ghosts, yes. But humans with powers? No.

So when a cult managed to successfully summon and bind him, he lacked the knowledge of how to stop them.

And they tore him apart.

His core was broken into pieces, each one then implanted into one of the most loyal cult members (or potentially sold off to another person to use…) to grant them a portion of Phantom’s many powers.

However, the cult didn’t entirely know what they were doing either. You see, it turns out that shattering Danny’s core in that manner didn’t truly end him. His soul still persisted, still refused to die even as it was trapped amongst the disparate shards. Though each individual piece lacked the strength of mind or power to affect their hosts, they would gradually forge themselves together anew should they ever be gathered back together.

And after Red Hood killed several of the cult’s members, that process began. Their shards, now freed, transferred to the vigilante, instinctively latching onto his proto-core. Though still not yet whole enough to form a truly conscious fragment of Danny, they are enough to start to nudge Hood in the right direction (bolstered in effectiveness by Jason’s connection to death)

Jason can feel it deep within his soul. There’s something more to this cult’s powers than just normal magic, and he has a growing need to find out what that is. To stop them. To burn them all down and dig their secrets from the ashes.

[christronomy]

it was almost embarrassing how quickly it happened, how all it took was the sound of his soothingly sweet voice asking you, "hey, hey, sweetheart? what's wrong?" and the way his brown eyes softened when he looked at you to make you bury your face in his chest and immediately break down into sobs. you just couldn't hold it in anymore, everything came pouring out, you couldn't help it. he wanted to tease you for how cute you looked with your puffy cheeks and bottom lip jutted out, quivering slightly as you looked up at him from where you'd soaked his t-shirt with big, glossy eyes, bottom lids brimmed with heavy tears. but he knew that right now was not the time, so instead, he simply wiped your tears away with his thumbs, brushing your hair away from your sticky, tear stained cheeks and placing a soft kiss onto your forehead.

he can't leave you like this, he figures. he's gonna figure out a way to help you feel better. he's determined, nothing will stop him. even though you can't even talk right now, he knows exactly what you need. he wrapped you up in the most comfortable blanket he could find, put on a playlist with all of your favorite songs, and got you your favorite food, even though he knows you can't even eat it right now cause you're still crying. every time you think you're done, more tears come, but every time they come, he's there by your side to wipe them away. "just take your time, baby. let it all out," he says, getting comfortable next to you and pulling you into his arms. you notice he's changed the t-shirt he was wearing before since you'd both assumed your crying fit would be over, and you almost feel bad for the way you're ruining this one as well, but you know he doesn't mind it one bit. he'd get all the t-shirts in the world for him to wear so you could cry into them as long as it'll make you feel better, cause it's chan and he's cheesy like that. he'd do everything in his power to obtain anything in this world all for you.

knowing that makes you cry even more, but how could you not when he's stroking your hair so gently? how could you not, when he's humming softly along with the music he's got playing in the background, cause he knows you love it when he sings since it calms you down every time? how could you not cry tears of pure love and adoration for him when he's simply him? you cling onto his shirt, thanking whatever entity or thing, whatever is out there that he exists, that he's here with you in this moment. you're thankful for his tender kisses and gentle touches, his soft voice that calms your nerves and stops the flow of tears when he whispers those words that you'll only believe as long as they come from his lips, and no one else's.

"'ts alright, sweetie. everything's gonna be okay."

[mikhailoism]

kinda sad to me that there's no truck bombing aus where bobby was on the truck and he's the one who gets crushed........

[furiousgoldfish]

Speaking from a bad place, so bear with me. Has anyone thought about how being important or special to other people is based just on the people closest to you?

We regard strangers as people who are fairly irrelevant to us, because they have little to no impact to our life, and their lives and struggles won't generally touch us. In contrast, lives of people directly around us have a great impact on us, and they decide our relevancy. We give them roles in our lives, like friends, mentors, partners, lovers, caretakers, and in that regard they're special to us, irreplaceable. We also want to have an equally strong meaning in their life, to have a warm place in their heart and respect in their minds, as they do for us.

When people around us who hold great relevancy for us, also give us that same relevancy back, we feel important, we know we're special to them. That our role in their life shapes their experience, gives them gratitude and they've accepted us as someone they want and need around.

In contrast to that, when people in our life refuse to give us that same respect, warmth and relevancy, then we wonder what is wrong with us. What is missing so we can't be appreciated and regarded with the same love and respect that we show to them. Lack of mutuality makes us sink down with insecurity, self doubt and deep feeling that we're not enough, that we've done something wrong, not to deserve the same that we give to others.

And it also works out the same in isolation, if you have no one close to you, no one who has your well being in mind or cares for what becomes of you, it feels like you're important to no one, like you are not special whatsoever, even like you could be disposable if nobody cares at all.

But none of that is based on what's inside of us, who we are or how much love and good we are capable of giving and showing. It's nothing even related to our behaviour and actions, you could put anyone in these situations and results would be generally similar; person who is not experiencing reciprocity, or is left to fend for themselves alone, will lose the feeling that they're important or special in any way.

Isn't that weird? That we can end up judging our own worth based on nothing we did, or nothing we are, just based on how people around us are treating us, or whether we have anyone around us at all. In our essence we didn't change at all, it's just who is or isn't around, that determines our worth.

If we're put in a group of people who want to create bonds based on good things they see in us, we'll become able of seeing that good in ourselves. If we're surrounded by people who all feel the same as we do, act on the same moral code, readily reciprocate respect and warmth that we show to them, we won't feel like anything is wrong with us. We'll feel at home.

And since this is so intrinsic to being a person, to long for this and only feel relevant, safe and cared for in these circumstances, isn't it natural that we all deserve that? To be surrounded by people who make us feel like nothing is wrong with us, and like we're at home? Who help us focus on everything good in us, and give us no reasons to believe that we should be rejected or banished at all? Since abuse did the absolute opposite, and forced us to believe there's only reasons for abandonment, hatred and contempt, I believe being in the environment where people see many reasons to want us in their lives, would heal us.

[demontouched]

support casters being support casters.... i'm talking ab the undersea temple battle against vetto... finral and vanessa work seamlessly in tandem to keep asta from being murdered. vanessa pulling him out of the way of close calls, while finral both moves asta from place to place and uses vetto's mana sensing abilities to distract and misdirect him. truly the support casters.

[uncanny-tranny]

Honestly, going into your WIP pile to actually go through it and see what you actually want to finish can be really helpful, especially when you don't judge yourself and try to learn why that piece became a hibernater in your WIP pile

Some questions I ponder when I look at a WIP is:

Is this project turning out how I want? If not, what about it don't I like?

Do I or did I have fun when I was starting it?

Will I actually use it or enjoy it when I'm done?

Do I like the material now?

Do I see myself enjoying the product after it's done?

Were there, or are there, time restraints preventing me from finishing?

Is this out of my current skill set, and am I okay with that?

If I could change one thing about the WIP, what would it be?

I know plenty of people won't incorporate this into their own WIP and crafting journey, and that's okay. But I know so many people who hibernate their projects for many reasons and feel guilty about it. I hope this might give people ideas about why they hibernate projects to prevent that type of guilt from eating away at their conscious. This (creating) should be fun, and if you're spending a lot of time feeling guilty or ashamed, it can be hard to continue doing the things you like.

[ashgunnywolf]

Being a freak of nature is hard. Being the freak of nature spawn of two other freaks of nature is harder. Being the manifestation of the trauma of the two biggest fucking idiots on the planet is downright unbearable. Being stuck in a damned thermos for fucking YEARS? Torture.

It's only natural to want to burn all of existence to the ground. To make everyone else hurt exactly as much as he does. Who cares about the universe? No one who lives there ever loved him. Not all of him. Not the ugly parts.

And there's nothing left of him but ugly parts.

Danny, fool that he is, couldn't bear the vision of what he could become, so he quite literally bottled him up and ripped him out of reality and asked the undead god of time to pretty please keep this awful thing on your shelf where I don't have to look at it.

He couldn't even sleep in the thermos. Did time even pass outside the insulated metal walls of the thermos, in the halls of Clockwork's lair? It felt like eternity. Existing without sensation, drifting in limbo, unable to even move... Surely this was hell. What he deserved.

And when confronted with that wicked thermos again, all the oceans of anger and rage and hatred parted, and everyone could see what he really was.

Lonely. And scared.

He didn't want to be alone again.

He wasn't a version of Danny that was driven to madness. He was a Vlad who refused to accept that he was all alone, and he was a Danny who couldn't bear the reality of how alone he really was.

And more than that, he was that kindred energy drawn together into one being.

How dare others have families? How could anyone even think to feel things like joy and comfort when he was so alone? Didn't anyone CARE?!

And then this reality's Vlad gave him a body. He looked like Danny again. He was human again, something that can eat and sleep and shit.

When he was pulled from the stasis tank and given a towel to wipe the slime off his skin - he had SKIN again, real human skin with blood vessels and a pleasant pinkish hue instead of undead grey - Vlad called him Daniel.

"How do you feel, Daniel?"

He winced despite himself.

"What is it?"

"I... I don't know what to call myself," he admitted. "I AM Danny, but you know as well as I that half of me is you."

Vlad furrowed his brow. "I see." He sat in silence for a moment, then asked, "Would you like to choose a name? It doesn't have to be right now."

He shrugged. "I suppose."

Vlad placed a hand on his shoulder. "I can't imagine what you feel right now. You've been through so much..."

He wrapped his arms around himself, and it struck him how natural it felt to be so small again. "You know some of it. You lived it, to a point."

"Right." Vlad slouched, looking away. "Driven by what I thought was vengeance. But all along, I was just afraid of accepting the truth. That I was alone."

He interjected, "So was Danny. He was driven to cleaving himself in two because he couldn't bear the loneliness either."

He continued, "The two of you are more alike than you realize. Not only because you're both half-ghost. You're two of a kind. Why else would the worst parts of the two of you fuse so seamlessly... into this?" He gestured at himself. "Selfish, petty, vindictive... lonely..."

Vlad took the towel and ruffled it over his soaked hair. "I wanted Daniel to be my son. Not just to punish Jack. I truly wanted him by my side."

He chuckled. "I remember." He drummed his fingers on his knee, feeling the bones vibrate under his flesh from the gentle impact.

"If it's any consolation, he wanted you in his own way." He shrugged. "I can't speak to how he feels about you now, after everything that's happened..."

"That's alright."

"...but if I were to guess, I'd say part of him is still drawn to you."

Vlad raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

He was about to reply when his stomach gurgled. His eyebrows shot upward and he clutched his gut. "I'm... hungry."

A small smile crept onto Vlad's face. "So you are. What would you like to eat?"

He looked down at his feet and thought about it. "I don't know. What would you eat?"

"I was planning to have lobster with bechamel and a side of asparagus."

He nodded slowly. "That sounds good."

Vlad laughed. "Better than Daniel's usual diet of Nasty Burger, right?"

He snarled, baring his teeth - flat human teeth, not his fangs, so some of the bite was lost.

"Not a fan of Nasty Burger? Neither am I."

He glared at Vlad. "I do NOT want to talk about that."

Vlad held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

Lunch... was nice. He hadn't realized how much he missed eating. Properly eating, not just tearing people's flesh with his teeth.

Vlad kept looking up at him from across the table and smiling. He tried hiding it from him, only doing it when he thought he wasn't looking, but it was obvious.

He didn't hold it against the man. He enjoyed the company, too. It was nice to not be alone anymore.

[669ratz]

do u get my vison (more talking in the tags)

[lightbulb-warning]

injured my thumb stupidly and now i have to wrap pencils with hair ties around it to physically restrain myself from drawing and it might be one of the silliest ways ive had to babysit my impulsivity. baby jail!!!

...sooooooi does anyone want a non-dominant-handed doodle??? you get One Character!! small rushed and wonky <3 just ask!! :D *points!!! at askbox!!!! dramatically!!!!!*

[acourtoflucien]

okay i’m sure this has been discussed at length before so my apologies but i was out walking today and a fly flew right into my eye and i couldn’t see and it stung really bad and my eye was all watery for ages afterwards and that’s me on the ground at strolling pace.

imagine flying through the air - that’s no longer just a fly but a dangerous projectile. how are the batboys not blinded on a daily basis by insects. just another question the world will never have answers to

[formulaheart]

the love I hold in my heart for productions of Les Mis where on my own takes place directly before a little fall of rain because eponine sings about how Marius' world will go on turning without her, immediately followed by her dying in his arms while he sings her go sleep and him falling the pieces as she's carried away lifeless and it just does something to me because he cared so so so much and she deserves to know that

[shalom-iamcominghome]

The idea that men don't cry and therefore don't experience the emotions that proceed crying is funny because I already know I'm going to cry whenever the beit din and mikvah happen, like I can already tell just because of how many times I have felt the emotions associated with needing to cry all because of judaism and how it makes me feel. Bruh I don't even know how to prepare for that part ngl

[ellies-enrichment]

immediate post change wow comedy

[zorosdimples]

my role in any game that requires combat is heal slut