#healthy coping methods

[phantoms-lair]

Izuku 1/2 - better name pending -Snip

"You haven't used your quirk." Izuku looked up from the snack he got at the vendors. "The first two events of the Sports Festival are over." Todoroki stated. "You could have handled the obstacle course with ease with your wings, no one would have been able to touch you. Instead you handicapped yourself."

"This is not a criticism I need to hear from someone who's only been using half their quirk the entire year." Izuku pointed out.

"It's not a criticism, I just wanted to know if...if we're doing it for the same reason." There was an edge of desperation in his voice. An almost need that somebody would understand.

"It's not just that I'm not using it." Izuku unscrewed the the cap of his water and pour some on his exposed arm, where it beaded up unnaturally. "I've made it so I can't. There was a time when these water-based transformation quirks were a lot more common, so they developed a type of waterproof soap to prevent accidents." "Why?' Todoroki breathed.

"Because," Izuku seemed to falter for a second before steeling himself. "I love my quirk. I love how useful it can be in being a hero. But I am NOT my quirk. My potential, my capacity to help, to grow, to achieve, those things are me and not a magical transformation. So many people see a hero and their potential as as nothing more than their quirk and they're wrong." Izuku ended his impromptu speech with a snarl.

Todoroki sat down hard. Blood pounded in his ears as Midoriya's words repeated themselves again and again in his ears I am not my quirk.

Because his quirk was all he'd even been. He'd been born for it, his siblings had been born in their attempts to make what would be his quirk. His childhood, his training, everything he'd ever been was because of his quirk, and the bastard that gave him half of it.

I am not my quirk

They're wrong

"Todoroki, are you okay?"

"Do you really believe there's more to me than my quirk?"

Izuku was quiet for a moment. "Todoroki, who do I need to have Sensei beat up?"

Sheer confusion brought him back to his sense for a bit. "What?" "If I beat them up I'm going to get expelled. Sensei, he -he really doesn't care." "He doesn't care about going toe to toe with the number 2 pro hero?" Todoroki asked skeptically. To his surprise, Midoriya grinned. "Well, the last pro hero was a hugely disappointing fight, so this would probably be a treat."

"Who was the last hero?"

"Not gonna name names, but someone who thought me being quirkless meant I should be abused and be thankful for the opportunity to serve my betters."

That was sick. "I hope your Sensei kicked his ass." Izuku grinned. It wasn't a nice grin. "He did." Then his grin faltered. "I was a late bloomer. Eight years old." "Did things get better?" Todoraki asked. "Almost immediately." Izuku said bitterly. "But that was almost worse because, things didn't really change, I just wasn't someone less evolved, so how they treated me was wrong. But...that's not why it was wrong and the next quirkless person or person with an unactivated quirk would be treated just how I was. So I want to change the idea that quirks are what's important. I'm going to do my best to win the sports festival quirkless. I'll show everyone just what the quirkless can do!"

Todoroki's hands gripped his knees. "My father, Endeavor - the number two hero. He bought my mother because he wanted her quirk. He wanted to create a strong enough quirk to unseat All Might. It took him four tries to succeed. He doesn't really care about my siblings, just me - his masterpiece." "And your mother?" Izuku was almost afraid to ask.

"She's been in a mental hospital since I was small."

"Consider his ass kicked." Izuku took a swing of his water. "Todoroki...I completely support you not using your fire today, but you're going to have to use it in hero work eventually. So," Izuku grinned. "How would you feel about using it in a way impossible for Endeavor?"

"Impossible for Endeavor?" Todoroki tilted his head like a confused cat. "For all his faults as a human being, he's a master of the flame."

Izuku snorted. "Master? His abilities are no fire, yes fire, and unreasonable amount of fire. What I'm talking about is being a rescue hero."

Todoroki let out a small laugh at Izuku's description of Endeavor's capabilities. The first Izuku had ever heard him make. "What do you mean a rescue hero? I'm clearly most suited for combat."

"And according to the people growing up the only thing I was suitable for was a training tool for actual quirked people to practice their quirks on, so fuck was people say we're 'suited' for'." Izuku paled. "Please don't tell my Mom I said that. But your quirk would be perfect for rescue work."

"How so?"

"You can make fire at will. You could keep people warm in an avalanche - and your ice could do the opposite in an overheating situation. You could be light in a cave in or night rescue. You could combine your fire and ice to make fresh water, or use your fire to cook. Your ice could act as supports to prevent further collapse, kind of like Rock Lock's quirk. You would be an AMAZING rescue hero. And all of it would be using both sides of your quirk to help and comfort rather than just attack. And that's kinda of what I meant by something Endeavor wasn't capable of. He's sort of a combat monster, for a given value, but that's all he is."

That was...that was a lot of things no one had ever told him before. He was told since his quirk appeared that he was going to be the best hero, and to do that he needed to take down villains. But to Midoriya, he had potential outside of combat. To help those that needed it the most without causing harm. That the fire he hated so much could be used as a gentle warmth.

Midoriya was right. That was impossible for his father.

"A rescue hero. I...I think I like that. Thank you for you guidance."

"We both have something to prove." Midoriya he'd out his water bottle like a toast. "Let's mess with their conceptions."

Todoroki grinned and tapped his own water bottle to Midoriya's. "Let's"

~

"Your sensei is BATTLE GRANNY!!!!!!!"

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

looking at the toolbox fools in particular, two prompts to choose from:

"You can't keep it bottled up forever." and/or "How long did you think you could hide that?"

i might have a catharsis communication/ hurt comfort agenda here hehe >:3c

mmmm yes we are serving some good catharsis tonight

(bounty hunter Eclipse is from naffeclipse, detective AU is from sunnys-aesthetic)

---

Smoke (2172 words, no CWs)

Eclipse had been sitting in the workshop for ten minutes now, and his mechanic had barely said a word to him beyond “Hey, make yourself at home.” They’d been working on a limb project the whole time, and considering the amount of grease scraping their elbows they’d been roughly this amount of busy the whole day.

He sat at the work table. They worked. He leaned across on his elbows. They worked. His fingers tapped slowly on the table surface. They worked.

A thin wisp of steam vented from the back of Eclipse’s neck as his optics narrowed.

“Busy day?” he asked.

“Mm? Yeah, pretty busy,” they replied, briefly glancing up from the leg they were wrist-deep in. For a moment Eclipse wanted to breeze past the table, grab them from their work, and curl up on the sofa until they weren’t sweating and their hands didn’t tremble. But he didn’t. He would be good, he could be good.

“Have you taken a break at all today?” he pressed in further. There was a twitch, a telltale squeeze as the mechanic tightened their grip on the screwdriver in their hand.

“It’s fine, I’ve just been working on back-up things,” they replied.

“Didn’t realise you could have a busy and a lazy day,” Eclipse kept the pressure down, and the mechanic didn’t buckle so much as show a crack in the edge. They let out a long and slow breath, before quietly continuing to pick through the leg’s innards, setting peeling wires aside for later inspection.

Eclipse’s fingertips dug into the metal table surface. Just a notch.

“Have you been getting up to anything?” he asked. “Getting outside the workshop at all?”

“Mmm. Not much.”

Oh, now he definitely wanted to grab, but this time to scruff and sit them down and find out what was hidden behind the low words and quiet attitude and inability to look at him in the optics. Stepping around the side of the table got the mechanic’s attention finally, as they paused in their work to look over and up (and up a bit more).

“What’s wrong?” Eclipse rumbled. 

“Nothing!” It was like their whole body had puffed up, the way their shoulders tucked up to their ears and arms folded in with elbows sticking out.

“You’re not talking about something.”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!” Their gaze flicked downwards, narrowing as they looked back to Eclipse’s face. “So says the guy with a busted ankle. How long did you think you could hide that? Honestly, the way you hold your weight to one side says it all-”

“And you have been working non-stop since the morning, maybe even last night.” Dark bags under the eyes, sweat-swept hair, a tremor on the knuckles. Eclipse ducked down, lifting the mechanic easily into his grip to set them on the worktable - only they abruptly curled inwards, painfully whining.

That was not a usual response to Eclipse’s level of strength.

Immediately he set them on the table, eye to chest, but easier now for him to pull at their shirt. The mechanic smacked at him, cawing and fluttering and spluttering, but he tugged the hem from where it’d been tucked in and pulled it up.

Purple and green. A violent splattering of colour adorned the side of the mechanic’s lower torso. Some of it was sparse dots but the largest bruise was most definitely the size and shape of a regular human boot’s sole.

Eclipse stared. Servo ticking wildly as he absorbed the sight, taking in the details, the depth of florid violet and sickly green.

“Clip?” Hands against his cheeks pulled Eclipse from his daze, optics going from black to yellow once more. His mechanic dragged him back to their face, the distant exhaustion turned agony now turned a soft regret. 

His shoulders sagged. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead against their’s as they drew circles along his sunrays. Together they waited for the burst of energy to seep away to the corners of the room.

“Let me down so I can fix your ankle,” the mechanic said quietly.

“Do you have anything for the bruise?” Eclipse replied.

“Some lotion. Nothing fancy.”

Humming in understanding, Eclipse scooped his hands under their arms, waiting for them to grip on before he lifted them back down to the floor. He kept a hand on their back as they moved to one of the stools, and kicked off his shoe with the toe of the other. While he sat, they rummaged in one of the drawer, pulling out several screwdrivers and a set of pliers that they slid into small loops on their belt. Then they kneeled below him, rolling up the trouser leg with professional focus.

“I don’t see anything straight off, what happened?” the mechanic asked.

“Kicked something harder than I should have.” Specifically someone’s rib-cage. Eclipse was built well but kicking things (people) over and over had consequences. Who could have expected that? The mechanic squinted a touch disbelievingly before going into the ankle joint.

“...Oh, yeah. You’ve popped part of the joint connection to the leg, I can rewire it back into place and strengthen the back part of the foot so this won’t happen for a while.”

“Good.” Eclipse leaned back in his seat, gritting his teeth as the panelling of his calf was pried open. As much as there was comfort in familiar, reassuring hands, it didn’t necessarily reduce the discomfort as someone else opened him up to fix problems he was well accustomed to. Metal clinked away as the mechanic did the work they promised. Moments of hissing wire and quiet tension that grew and fell. Silently they propped his foot up onto their knee, to better open it up and examine the supports inside. Under the screwdriver, the low wire ache ebbed away, leaving behind a comfortable emptiness. A lack of pain.

“Give that a try,” the mechanic urged. Eclipse lifted his foot free, setting it flat on the ground and testing the ankle joint, back and forth.

“Much better,” he said, giving it a little stomp for good measure. The mechanic huffed, pride filtering through the exhaustion, and left him to set his trousers and shoes back to normal while they packed the toolkit away. When they turned back, he was already stood to full height, a hand extended to settle between their shoulders.

“Your turn,” Eclipse rumbled. The mechanic shifted, eyes widening a touch. Surprise? Panic? A bit of both? But they didn’t argue, folding underneath his hand as they led the way around to their washroom. Rummaging through one of the cupboards, they retrieved a small pot of lotion, handing it over to Eclipse. With them sat on a spare stool, and Eclipse on his knees, they were both almost about the same height level.

They unbuttoned their shirt, pulling the undershirt hem up and aside for Eclipse. Daubing some of the lotion onto a finger, he began to work it into the patches of mottled skin that he could see.

“Easy,” the mechanic muttered. “You don’t have to press down so hard.”

Eclipse gave them a brief look before continuing his work. Silence seeped into the room, lit by a partially fizzing light bulb. For such a menial task, Eclipse took it with a combination of reverence and repulsion - it was still his mechanic but the work was ugly, and these bruises would need to be looked after with care until they healed. How easy these bodies were to break.

For now though, he would kneel. 

“Who did this?” he asked. A name, a face, a location. Anything to spark a trail.

“I don’t know,” his mechanic replied, shrugging briefly. “I - I was having a bad day. Bad week. I just wanted one thing to go right so I got dinner at Chica’s and just…some guy decided to mouth off on one of her waitresses.”

“You stepped in to defend?”

“I cracked him across the jaw.” They snorted, and Eclipse could feel the muscles contract under his hand even while they winced. “Fighting on linoleum floors is…tricky. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Eclipse muttered as he rubbed his thumb across the wide sole-shaped bruise. A size six? Maybe a size seven. He could consider it later.

“Honestly, I wasn’t even doing it to defend her. I was just mad. I wanted an outlet and that was the easiest one that I could see in the moment.” The admission was unbidden, and a surprise to that much as well. Especially since earlier talk had been like prying blood from a stone.

Wiping the last traces of lotion away, Eclipse inclined his head, nodding that the work was done. The shirt hem was left to fall again. While he didn’t say anything, he did offer his hand after getting to his feet, and the mechanic took it to shuffle in his wake out of the washroom. 

Back inside the workshop, they took charge again, this time guiding Eclipse towards the main sofa - the easiest place to be held and a favoured spot for both. They sat down, he sat down next to them, and they scrambled their way over his lap to lay against his chest.

“How long were you holding onto that anger that you decided to start a fist-fight?” Eclipse asked, genuinely curious. He had seen plenty of his mechanic’s fire and knew they were entirely capable of protecting themselves (most of the time), but going from zero to one hundred on the compulsion to hurt someone was not something that fit into his view of his raven.

The response was to press their face into his chest and remain quiet. Once several long seconds had passed of this, he sighed and began to card his fingers through their hair.

“You need to find an actual outlet when you get overwhelmed,” he chided them quietly. 

“Strong words from the bounty hunter,” was the cloth muffled reply.

“I’m serious. You can't keep it bottled up forever. You could have talked to me, if I’d know you were stressed.” His fingers tapped against their cheek, soft contact on soft skin.

“I…I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Little bird, the reason I don’t talk about my work is because it’s confidential.”

“And you shoot people.”

“Sometimes I shoot people. If you need to complain about your workload, I can listen.”

The mechanic sagged in his arms, head shuffling so they could peek up to look at him.

“How do you deal with strong emotions?”

Eclipse hesitated. For a long time. Thoughts slipping backwards towards metal and sanguine, before he felt his mechanic pick up his hand and start playing over his fingers, as if they knew he needed tethering in the moment. Or maybe they were trying to tether themselves.

“I smoke cigars,” he replied. 

“You don’t have lungs though.”

“It’s - it’s the act, not the breathing.” His eyes flickered over them, the way their head tilted to the side. Bringing out a cigar, Eclipse flicked his lighter open. It felt wasteful now, without the desire for the spark, but still the calm rolled over him as the red embers began to wrap around the end of the cigar, smoke starting to wisp and roll into the air. They watched quietly, shuffling sideways to kneel on the sofa. 

“...It is hypnotic, in a way,” they commented finally.

“In a way,” Eclipse agreed. “...Do you want to try it?”

“Like actually smoking it?”

“I’ve heard humans like it. Seen them smoking it. And cigars are meant to be better than cigarettes, more…flavour.”

The mechanic’s nose wrinkled, but they shuffled in closer, taking the cigar from offered hands. As ever, they put their trust in Eclipse’s palm to hold and protect, as they lifted the cigar to their lips, breathed in - and started choking immediately. Smoke spluttered out of their nose like a dying dragon, fitting to their wheezing. Eclipse patted them (not too firmly) on the back, waiting for the thick coughs to return to spluttering and then back to gulps of air.

“No,” they muttered, passing the cigar back. “No, absolutely not.”

The smoke and embers were extinguished fully by Eclipse’s palm, and he shoved the wasted tobacco back in his pocket. Small coughs continued to rise from the mechanic, eased by circles he drew on their back. 

“If you have someone you can talk to, maybe you should,” he pressed the issue further. “I…didn’t. For a long time.”

“Hence the coping method of setting a little something on fire.” The small laugh wasn’t hearty, and the smile didn’t reach their eyes. But the fall of their shoulders wasn’t one of defeat. “Well, since I’m not the keenest on mild acts of arson, maybe I could…I don’t know. Talk a bit more.”

“It doesn’t have to be me,” Eclipse added. “Just someone.”

“...Thank you.” They folded into his arm, which settled around their waist. Now at least as the pair shared silence in the room, it was breathable.

[jellyfishline]

For the WIP meme - I am VERY intrigued by Resting Place 👀👀👀

Both you and @ushauz asked me about Resting Place! It is one of my more, uh, unexpectedly ambitious projects.

I happened across a kinkmeme prompt (that someone else already wrote a wonderful fic for) that kicked me so hard in the head that I wrote 2k words of fic about it at like 1am and I've continued to add to it since. The fic is now over 12k and I'm guessing/hoping it'll be about 15k if/when I actually manage to finish the dang thing.

It's basically ten thousand words of Astarion processing trauma via fantasizing about Wyll + Astarion being convinced that he and Wyll have a mutual frenemies thing going on while Wyll is, uh.... completely oblivious to all of it.

Excerpt under the cut:

At night, alone in his bedroll, Astarion’s mind wanders. Away from himself, his body, his own recursive and increasingly irritating patterns of thought—it wanders and it wanders until it, eventually, ends up back where it started. Astarion on his knees, entertaining someone else.

He has spent two hundred years fantasizing about freedom—ludicrous dreams, where he is fed, where is warm, where he parts Cazador’s head from his neck with his fangs—the stupidest, most basic, crudest ideas of what he might do if only he had the power to control himself. And now that he has that control, he fantasizes about someone taking it away again.

Specifically, he fantasizes about Wyll.

[disabledidols]

I don't think this is inheretly disability related but...

I love you artists and creators who make their faves regression headcanons. I love you people who draw them with pacis and other 'baby' stuff.

I love you for making age regression content!

[isa-ah]

fionna and cake was so good I haven't been able to stop thinking about it like at all since I finished watching it

[just-jammin]

hey, uh, sry if i disrupt the current supposed mood but

I GOT MY FRICKIN MERCH YEAHHHHHHHH YIPPEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

I FUCKIN LOVE IT, ESPECIALLY MY DORKY FINGER PUPPET

i squeemsh the goob hehehehehehe… >:3

[kunikidas-lost-glasses]

Writing hurt/comfort where I put my favorite character though panic attacks but also let them get comforted by their partner/their partners in a very soft, caring, patient, understanding and gentle way whenever I feel utterly panicky and scared or if I'm only a tiny bit away from a panic attack myself, in order to comfort, distract and calm myself >>>> using actual healthy coping mechanisms which are supposed to help me calm down

[edsbacktattoo]

Chapter Sixteen: A Blanket Seamed With Teeth

I'm very quickly running out of amusing things to say here. Good news though, the newest chapter of OMTS is up and you can find it here!

[hueningkai]

hi folks: not to be all formal or anything but i am going on a stricter hiatus ... my mental health is bad due to a myriad of reasons. all posts will be queued (including my own content) i am taking this time to focus on myself & not feel a pressure to create, although i try to enjoy myself in general, i feel focusing on other hobbies & long overdue tasks will be a good place to start. my askbox is currently turned off, but should you really need me dms are open, or discord if you have mine. see you soon! ily all! if you want me to see your content please tag it with #usergyukai

[bombshellsandbluebells]

not going to have a panic attack about money

going to edit this silly little fanvid and pretend like the problem doesn’t exist instead

[bimbobastical]

some coping methods, by yours truly!

crocheting/knitting/crafting...

drawing/writing out your feelings

telling your stuffies (if you have any!) how you feel, this really helps me!

talking to yourself, it sounds weird but being by yourself and just talking is somehow soothing

cry!!! let it all out!!!

singing how you feel!

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elena & Mithian (Merlin), Elena/Mithian (Merlin) Characters: Mithian (Merlin), Elena (Merlin) Additional Tags: Fluff, Hair Braiding, Pre-Canon, probably they're like 20, Friendship, all platonic just there wasn't a & tag so i figured i'd do both, but they're both aromantic xx, Trans Mithian, Trans Female Character, references to transphobia and dysphoria, btu not the focus of the fic, elena's probably agender if she acc thought about it which she doesn', triple a kinda gal, non sexual nudity, is it even that if she's jsut topless jfc what is this world, let elena vibe fuckin hell, Horseback Riding, Nature Series: Part 26 of Merlin bingo fills Summary:

Elena and Mithian + fluff and hair braiding

[haunted-medievalist]

dissertation grind week is officially On i have written 2000 words today and there’s still like 3 hours of work left to go before i collapse x

[chaosdisorganized]

I love feeling anxious for seemingly no reason.

This anxiety has been going on for hours and I know its probably passive influence or something but it needs to stop, I'm trying to relax. Nothing is even going on, I started feeling it after dinner and I didn't even eat any trigger foods or sugar or caffeine and I've just been laying in bed since just teeming with anxiety and fidgeting nonstop. Wish I had weed, otherwise I probably wouldn't be feeling like this.

[queen-evanlyn]

somethings got to give or however the song goes (<- just did ten hours at work and now has four hours of uni)

[erstwhles]

open to anyone, mutuals and nonmutuals

premise: athlete struggling after being traded to a new team and sustaining an injury that makes him unable to play (friend? teammate? partner? someone who wants to help? someone who wants to encourage his poor coping methods?)

"Please go. I'm not the kind of person anyone should be around right now." Liam brings a hand up to smooth down his hair. He makes no effort to meet their eyes, to erase the frown from his lips as he twists his fingers together on his lap.