#it’s easy to fall into self blame but when my friends and my therapist are firmly telling me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettsfic · 1 year

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SNS? I had a panic attack the other night and asked someone I thought was a close friend (we've previously been open about mental health stuff and they had told me directly that I can always call them if they would) for help getting through it. They agreed and talked at me for a bit while I cried and did breathing exercises. Now it's a few days later and they texted me to tell me they didn't want me in their life anymore. (1/2)

Everyone is on their own journey and I respect that and I respect the boundary that they've drawn. I guess my question is how do you handle trusting sometime and showing them the ugliest part of you and then getting rejected? I'm finding it very difficult not to go down the spiral of "I'm a horrible repulsive person and should try to minimize my negative impact on the world by isolating myself"

i'm so sorry that happened, anon. that sounds devastating. if it helps, i struggle with a lot of the same negative self-beliefs especially when i think back on relationships and friendships that didn't work out.

the first thing to do is to let yourself be hurt by their behavior. even though i agree that everyone has a right to draw their boundaries, that doesn't mean you can't have an emotional reaction to them. right now it sounds like you're turning that hurt onto yourself, when i think it's more productive to acknowledge that, regardless of how you see yourself, someone you cared about betrayed your trust. you don't have to attribute any logic to it or build a case against yourself. just let yourself feel hurt.

as far as the negative self-beliefs that develop from these situations, i really do think positive reinforcement is a good go-to coping strategy. just earlier today i was in an appointment with my psychiatrist who asked me, "what do you do when you're at your lowest?" to which i said more or less that (very reluctantly and with profound irritation) i begin listing off all the people who love me and all the good work i've put in the world. there is cold hard evidence that not even my self-hating brain can deny that i've been a positive influence on some people, and if i don't lock myself away, i can continue to be a positive influence. even if you have to write it down just so you can see it, make your list. make it as objective as possible so you can't twist it. cold hard facts of the positive influence you've had.

i remember when i started therapy, my big question was, "but what if people hurt you?" i asked that question over and over. no one ever had an answer for me. it's hard to find therapists who understand C-PTSD and the reality that we struggle to process betrayal and abandonment, so we carry it with us from relationship to relationship, piling on armor, until we can't form real relationships at all. the image i always conjure is barbed wire around a teacup. something fragile and made to be loved, but unable to be touched.

the answer i came up with is that you just have to love everyone as well as you possibly can knowing that they can hurt you. they can reject you, abandon you, blame you, and berate you, but you have to remember that the reward of loving is worth the risk of pain.

and lastly, the truth of the world is that there will always be people who simply aren't strong enough to hold you. it doesn't mean you're too heavy; it means they're not willing to put in the work to be strong in the way you need. this can be hard especially if you're the sort of person willing to put in the work for others. but everyone has a breaking point. it's just that some people are a steel beam and some people are a tightrope. it's easier to fall off of one than the other. the weight they're willing to carry has nothing to do with you.

where the negative self-beliefs come in is thinking, but what if i'm too heavy for anyone to hold? what if i'm an unreasonable burden? my instinct has always been to make myself lighter, smaller. if i can make myself easy to love, then people will love me easily, and if people love me easily then they won't hurt me. but the truth is that i am hard to love, not because there's anything wrong with me, but because loving is hard no matter how light and small you are. you can be the happiest, most stable person in the world and that still doesn't make you immune to the hurtful behavior of others, and it doesn't exempt you from behaving in hurtful ways. we are all flawed beasts looking for a place to belong. in order to find where we fit, we have to find where we don't.

i hope you've found some of this helpful. again, i'm sorry you're going through this, and i wish you the very best.

#sns #psych

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kejacomo-blog · 2 years

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sometimes a pony gets depressed

I’ve been depressed for a while. I mean. I guess I’ve always carried some kind of baggage with me. I’ve probably needed therapy for a long time, but I’ve never had a therapist. I’ve been on anti-depressants, but it was a minuscule dose and I never really felt a perceptible difference.

Each time the prescription was about to run out, I had to go to my pharmacy, and they had to fax my GP, who faxed them back? I think? Then I had to go back and pay a chunk of money, even after my student insurance covered 70% of it (iirc). On top of not perceiving any difference, going through these stilly hoops, and still paying a decent amount of money, my poor ass eventually just stopped taking the meds (self-inflicted poorness btw).

I guess I thought that since I was graduating soon, I’d get a job in my field, things would fall into place, and I’d be ok. That... has not happened so far.

And there’s not much to look forward to

. I don’t have close friends

(my fault for pushing ppl close to me away, not replying to messages, being socially awkward/introverted/anxious/shy however you want to slice it)

I don’t have money

(my fault for being too lazy to get a job while in school and spending all my savings on rent, and misc. purchases)

The dating scene is even more sparse than it was when I lived in the city

(moved back home with the ‘rents to stop my wallet from bleeding and // it was the only way to get my ex to also move out of the studio apartment that we shared for 9 months post-break up. yup. also no rizz/no $ isn’t good for dating)

I don’t feel completely supported at home

Maybe this will sound like my blaming others for part of my depression. but whatever. idc, it’s what I feel. About a year ago I realized that I am likely on the autism spectrum. I brought it up one day to my mom and we had a discussion on why I thought this way and some of my behaviours as a child. Even talked about that time in 4th grade when me and some of my peers were separated from our regular class to do some learning assessments or sth. Some were diagnosed with learning disabilities while the assessors noticed some peculiarities in me but nothing ever came of it. good masking, I guess. Anyway, that conversation was great, but since then neither of us has ever mentioned it again. Similar story with my depression. A few years ago, it eventually got to a point where it had to be addressed, and I had some conversations with her about it. It was easy to see it was hard on her. Maybe I should give her more slack. I can tell she tries in her own way to cheer me up. But it’s hard when the last conversation that we had about my depression ended with her reassuring me that she would check in every few days with me. And that conversation was... 1.5 years ago? 2? I guess she did check in with me about it a few weeks ago. But I was already too closed off by then. My brother is open to conversation but our worldviews are a bit different and historically I haven’t felt supported by him in the ways I would like to be supported. Always very solution-based with solutions that I do not vibe with, for that matter. My dad is very kind, but not very ‘emotionally available’, as they say. My sister is great for the support I require, but even she has a lot that she’s dealing with and I don’t want to push all my baggage onto her. So after cycling through all of that, it comes back to me having to get myself out of this hole somehow.

I don’t even know what happened to this formatting.

Just trying to get through the day doing different things because I am not finding joy in my usual things which is a bit concerning. I am reading a little more, though, which is good. And trying to get away from doomscrolling.

Well. Maybe I feel a little better. Idk.

What else...

idk just being a poor, undiagnosed neurodivergent adult with no close frens just isn’t it. bleh.

At least I have things that I want to do in life still, food, a home, a family, etc. Could always be worse...

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missjaystone · 3 years

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Inescapable

Summary: Even in the middle of the ocean, your alpha manages to find you, even if it was an accident. Pairing(s): Alpha!Helmut Zemo x Reader Word Count: 3,640 Warning(s): NONCON! DUBCON! A/B/O Dynamics! Forced Claiming! Manipulation! Implied Stalking! Miscarriage mentioned! Death mentioned!

Everything around you froze when you looked up and met a certain pair of brown eyes, a certain sparkle when they looked into yours. The contact was brief before he was led around the corner by the Dora Milaje but it felt like it would never end. You worked on the Raft as a therapist to put as much distance between the two of you as possible but now that he was here, where could you go? The way he smiled at you as he walked by, it wasn't comforting like the first time you'd seen it, it made your heart stop in fear. It made his claiming mark on your neck throb in pain, a reminder of how much power he'd had over you before and how much he'd always have. It reminded you that he was your alpha, whether you wanted him to be or not. The man that passed by you wasn't the man you'd met, he was much worse.

The battle was over, your husband was dead, the child you were growing followed suit not long after you got the news, like he couldn't bear to even be born in a world without his father; you couldn't even blame him, you'd contemplated ending your own life to join your husband in whatever afterlife awaited. You'd just gone back to work after your allotted week of bereavement leave and another week of personal time. You weren't sure if you were ready to go back to work or not, but at the very least it would distract you. The first thing you noticed when stepping into your office were the pictures of you, your husband, and his family. You turned the picture frames face down before you could stare for too long, everyone in the pictures was dead; your husband, your mother and father in law, your two brothers-in-law, everyone.

Your first patient came exactly at 9:30 for their appointment. He was a brown-eyed brunette man of average height, dressed surprisingly nice for a therapy appointment. You greeted him with a soft smile and a handshake. "Welcome, Mr..." you trailed off so he could introduce himself. "Zemo," he answered, his thumb running over your knuckles gently before he let go of your hand and took a seat "Baron Helmut Zemo." "Would you like me to address you as Baron Zemo or Mr. Zemo? Or just simply Helmut if that would make you comfortable?" You asked him. "You can just call me Helmut, Doctor, but thank you for asking," he returned the same sad smile you'd given him when he came in. "Well, Helmut, I'm glad you came in. It's never easy dealing with loss and having someone to talk to is far better than bottling it up. I'm proud of you." He gave a single nod after looking around the office, motioning to the overturned picture on your desk "I thought my friend might be nuts to have referred me here but maybe you understand my pain better than anyone can." You smiled sadly at him "you'd be surprised at how many people understand." You saw his attention drift towards the sweets jar on your desk, holding it out to him "Turkish delight?" He smiled a bit more, this time a little more genuine as he took a piece out "don't mind if I do, Doctor."

After your first appointment, he came back twice a week. He told you about his wife and son, how much it hurt when he finally found their bodies amidst all the rubble. You asked him about his favorite memories with them, trying to make him remember the good times. You asked him about them; his wife's favorite flower or his son's favorite toy, encouraged him to open up about them. Soon he had you talking about your husband and the people you lost. It was amazing how effortlessly he tore down both your professional and emotional walls. He had you falling for him before you even knew you were.

For two months you tried every which way to talk him down off of his growing rage and hatred for the Avengers. You used everything you'd learned in school to make him understand breaking them apart wouldn't bring back his family or make anything better. At the beginning of the third month, he seemed to drop it, and you foolishly thought that was the end of it, that he'd seen reason. He'd slowly been getting bolder during your appointments, asking questions, each more personal than the last but only by a little. One evening, after seeing him for almost four months, he showed up about half an hour after your last appointment of the day, it was about a quarter of six. He was dressed just as nice as he always was, maybe even nicer "I hate to disturb you so late, doctor but may I take you out to dinner this evening? I'd very much like to thank you for these past months; I knew it's your job but I can't imagine what kind of troubled headspace I'd be in if I didn't have you to talk to." He'd asked so politely, how could you refuse? While you gathered your things, you missed the hungry look in his eyes. You missed the way they dragged over your body, the same way a lion looks at his prey. You'd be his omega soon. Whether you wanted it or not. You were his innocent, gentle little lamb and you needed to be protected from other wolves.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were at his favorite fine dining restaurant in all of Novi Grad. It was fun, the most fun you'd had in months since the battle of Sokovia and the heartbreak that followed. After that first dinner together, it became a more frequent occurrence, usually once a week after his appointment. You were smart, you knew how stupid it was to be dining with the patient so frequently. This professional relationship was becoming close and intimate. He had you on the hook before you could even realize it and pull away. As you began dining with him more, your guard fell. Helmut was no longer your patient, he was your friend, he understood your pains. You began dining together more frequently and then he introduced alcohol into the equation.

When you looked back at everything, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. How could you not see his plan? He was making you comfortable so it'd be easier for him to go in for the kill. Everything you shared with him would get used against you later. Helmut could play your mind like a flute and you let him, you gave him the tools he needed to find your weak spots and exploit them for his own benefit. If he'd crashed into your life and caused as much trouble as he had, you could hate him, but you let him in, welcomed him even and he made himself as comfortable as possible before finally taking what he came for.

Your first night together was gentle and slow, getting to know each other's bodies on such an intimate level. You turned your back to him afterward, eyes watering as the feeling of betrayal settled in the pit of your stomach like a stone. "What's the matter, malo jagnje? Did I hurt you?" He'd asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he looked you over worriedly. You shook your head, quickly wiping your tears before they hit the satin pillow sheets beneath you. "No, it's not you, Helmut," you whispered. "Then what?" He asked, a worried frown on his face. "I just worry, it feels too soon, like I've already started moving on," you answered with a sniffle. "Nobody mourns the same, jagnje, it's different for everyone. You told me that," he assured you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling your back to his chest.

He repeated everything you'd told him whenever you got emotional. 'Sometimes the best way to honor someone's memory is to find new ways to be happy' 'you can't beat yourself up for being happy without them, this is what they would have wanted' 'nobody can ever replace them but you can't wallow in self-pity forever'. Every piece of advice you gave him was used back against you. The two of you had been seeing each other for two months before you stopped answering his calls and messages. He'd shown up at your apartment when you hadn't returned his messages, worried something had happened to you, that his little side activities trying to destroy the Avengers might have led to you being hurt or captured or worse.

He was relieved to find you alive and well. "You haven't been speaking to me, are you unwell?" He asked after you hesitantly let him inside. "I don't think I can keep doing this, Helmut, I'm sorry," you said in a shaky, quiet voice. His face fell in disappointment "what's the matter? Have I done something? Malo jagnje, please, you can tell me anything you know that," he pleaded, taking your hand only to have it slowly pulled from his grasp.

"It's not you, Helmut," you said as clearly as you could muster, wiping the tears that were already beginning to roll down your cheeks. "Then what is it, moj voljeni? What's happened?" He pleaded for an answer. "It was too soon, I can feel myself forgetting him and I don't want to. I don't want to forget all the time me and Christoph spent imagining and building our future together. I don't want to forget about the baby we almost had, that died inside of me almost as soon as he heard the news of his father's death. I don't want to forget everything he and I had but when I'm with you, I feel the memories slipping away and I'm not ready and I'm so sorry for that Helmut," you told him, sniffling throughout. He stared at you for a long moment after you finished speaking, not saying anything. When he finally did react, he approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead "I understand, little lamb, and I'll wait for you." With that, he gave you a tight hug, rubbing your back comfortingly as you sobbed into his chest for a bit before he left. You went to sleep that night thinking about how lucky you were to have a confidant like Helmut in your life.

You remembered thinking that was the end of things. He took it well and things would continue as they were before you became sexually involved. No wonder he called you his little lamb, you were too innocent and naive to see the anger in his eyes when you told him you'd stop sleeping together. If you knew then what you knew now, you would have run from the hills, hidden at the north pole. You would have gone to the police and gotten a restraining order or hired a security detail. But you didn't do any of that. You were a lamb being led to the slaughter by no one other than yourself.

Helmut stormed into your office on a night he knew you stayed late to put the week's worth of notes away in their correct files. As fast as he'd appeared, he'd closed and locked the door behind him, watching your stunned form for a reaction. "Helmut?" You barely managed to get his name out before he'd crossed the room, pulling you to him and into a rough kiss. No matter how much you shoved his chest, he only pulled away when he was ready to. He effortlessly picked you up and set you on your desk, already positioning himself between your legs "I've waited for you to realize your mistake, jagnje, but I'll wait no more. I know you love me, омега, you're troubled mind is still reeling from the loss too much to accept it." "Helmut, I don't want this anymore, stop it," you shoved him away but it did little to dissuade him. It only angered him.

He grabbed your jaw tightly and made you look into his eyes; the pools of brown swirls had been replaced by black, lust-blown pupils of a... an alpha going through his rut. It sent waves of panic through your mind but waves of something else to your core. You whimpered when you felt your heartbeat speed up, reacting to the alpha's close, intimidating presence. "Helmut this isn't what you want, this isn't you," you tried to reason despite the rising panic telling you to run. He chuckled darkly "oh, little lamb, this is what I've longed for since before I stepped foot in your office. I caught a whiff of your sweet, scent when you visited the memorial all those months ago and I knew you'd be mine. You might not want to admit it, but your body knows you need an alpha like me to treat you right, keep you safe," he hummed as he ground the growing bulge in his pants against your clothed core. "Helmut-" you started, but his squeezing your jaw harder made you stop immediately. "You'll address me as alpha from now on, little lamb. I'd rather not hurt you but tonight I will make you mine by any means necessary, understood?" He asked, loosening his hold so you could nod, which you did hesitantly.

Pleased, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them and your underwear down, a smirk appearing on his features. He pulled your pants completely off and discarded them carelessly, holding your underwear up so you could see just how much you didn't want this; the flimsy black fabric already had a small amount of slick arousal on it. You watched in embarrassed shock and he brought the fabric close and sniffed it, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he tucked them into the pocket of his pants. "I think you do want this little omega, you want to please your alpha don't you?" He asked softly as his hand slowly drifted higher up on your thigh. "You aren't my alpha, Helmut," you said bitterly, ignoring the tears that stung your eyes as you glared daggers at the man you'd considered your friend and confidant. He snarled and dropped his hand to your neck, squeezing until the air barely flowed "but I will me, little lamb. And you'll be my perfect little omega, my perfect girl who'll give me the family we both crave and deserve."

His hand on your thigh finally came in contact with your core which was already soaked and ready for him. He hastily pushed in two of his fingers, curling them as he pulled you into a dominating kiss, nipping your bottom lip enough to bruise. Your denials were muffled by his lips and soon faded into pitiful, needy whines from his unwanted touches. He smiled darkly against your lips when he felt your body arch into him "see, омега? Your body knows what it wants, it's that big beautiful brain of yours that's keeping you down." You shook your head, trying to save any dignity you had left, which was none "I don't want this, Helmut, and I don't want you!" The words felt like acid coming up but his chuckle hurt worse. He was three fingers deep in your cunt, pulling whines and quiet, muffled moans from your lips, he knew you didn't mean that.

When he abruptly pulled his fingers out, you regrettably let out a disappointed whine, another, needier whine following as you watched him suck his fingers clean without break eye contact. It took .2 seconds for him to undo his belt and push his pants and briefs down, stroking his throbbing cock while he looked into your eyes. His hand still holding your wrist remaining just as tight. "I'll always take good care of you, my needy little lamb, you'll never want for anything ever," he promised, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead that didn't match the roughness he used to immediately bury himself to the hilt. He started off with a brutal pace, not giving you any time at all to adjust as he had before. His thrusts were purely animalistic, he was just an alpha trying to knot the omega in front of him amid his own release. He let you bury your face in his chest as an escape for now, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your life.

"See, little lamb? See how much you need your alpha to make you feel good, make you feel better than good?" He asked when you finally gave up on trying to mentally escape the moment. "N-not my alpha," you stuttered out in between the rough hammering of his hips. He snarled and bared his teeth, eyes darkening even more than you thought possible. "We'll see," he mumbled angrily. He tilted your head and moved your hair out of the way quickly, leaving no time for you to react before he sunk his teeth into your mating gland, his hips faltering a few times before his movements went from thrusts to more a series of rapid ruts as his knot began to inflate. Your pained scream was music to his ears, it was the sound of you becoming his omega, making it so no other alpha alive would dare to so much as breath on you.

When he detached from your shoulder, he again pulled you into a kiss, making sure you could taste the metallic taste of your blood on his lips while the feeling of euphoria from the bite coursed through your veins, reaching every last nerve ending. He let out a pleased groan when he felt your cunt strain around his knot as you came, sending him headfirst into his own climax almost immediately. His face happily buried in your chest as he rode out his orgasm, ropes of his cum painting your walls, reaching your innermost areas while you held onto him for dear life.

Your stifled sobs made him look up, a small frown on his face. "Oh, little lamb, don't cry," he said softly as he wiped your cheeks "I just want to keep you safe from all the wolves in the world, it won't always be this way." He ignored how hard your palm connected to his cheek "you bastard!" He gently picked you up and sat down in your chair, letting you curl up in his lap without dislodging his knot, smirking slightly when he heard your whimper at the shift in position. He soothingly rubbed your back as he held you close, comforting you "it's okay, омега, I'd hoped you'd accept us on your own terms but my rut came early and nobody else will do." You hated this; being reduced to your dynamic, to some cock sleeve for him to use as he saw fit. He'd bound you to him for the rest of your lives and there was nothing you could do about it now, so you curled into his chest and sobbed until you had no more tears.

You recalled the way he stayed with you for the rest of the night, comforting and tending to you. He'd return often, usually every other day to take you out somewhere for a date or just show up at your apartment to do it all over again. You couldn't put up much of a fight, once he was close enough, your omega side came out and you were putty in his hands. And he knew that, and he treasured it. He showered you in gifts; clothes, jewelry, wines, books, everything he could think of. When his visits became few and further in between, you hated the nerves you felt. You hated the way you wondered when he'd come back home to you. You were messed up, and it felt like it was all your doing. You broke your professional rules. You let him into your life. You told him everything he needed to know to get to you. You let him claim you. You were Baron Helmut Zemo's little lamb, and he'd never let you forget it, leaving bruises on your thighs and hickeys on your neck to show any and everyone you were a protected little omega, and woe to anyone who caught your alpha's wrath.

You then had to watch in horror as his actions became known on the news; he'd never given up his plot to destroy the Avengers. He'd succeeded more than he could have ever dreamed of and now, he was in jail. He'd be in jail for the rest of his life. It felt like losing your husband all over again, the pain deep in your heart hurt twice as much now. You practically had to go through detox to get used to life without your Helmut around you. You were still protected by his mark but you'd never get to listen to him shower you with praises while he cleaned you up after sex. You had to get used to a life without being on his arm and you hated yourself for craving his attention and companionship that you'd still claim to hate.

He smiled so happy when they stopped while waiting for the door to open. He spoke in Sokovian so nobody around understood him "izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo." "What'd he just say?" Your superior asked, looking between the two of you. You felt that familiar stone in the pit of your stomach, he'd have you doing his bidding in no time. You were already wrapped around his finger. You shook your head and looked at your boss "he's mistaken me for someone else." "Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje," Helmut said with a smirk before he was pulled away by a member of the Dora Milaje, leaving you with a wink.

-malo jagnje - мало јагње - little lamb -jagnje - јагње - lamb -moj voljeni? - мој вољени - my beloved -омега - omega -izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo - изгледаш прелепо као оног дана кад сам те погледао, јагње мало - you look as beautiful as the day I laid eyes on you, little lamb -Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje - Једва чекам да стигнем, јагње - I can't wait to catch up, lamb

#Baron Zemo #Baron Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo #Alpha!Helmut Zemo #Alpha!Zemo Smut #Helmut Zemo smut #Zemo Smut #TFATWS #It's 5 am and honestly #This might not last 24 hours #Imma head out tho #TW: Dubcon #TW: NonCon #TW: Dubious Consent #TW: Nonconsent

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stevetonyweekly · 3 years

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SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them.

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k)

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K)

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k)

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K)

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k)

“It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K)

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K)

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K)

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K)

Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K)

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K)

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K)

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k)

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K)

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k)

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K)

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k)

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K)

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K)

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K)

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k)

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k)

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K)

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K)

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony fic #stevetony weekly #stevetony #fic recs #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain ameria

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buckleyydiaz · 4 years

Text

what he deserves

Ship: Buck/Eddie

Summary: It had to be done - someone had to do it, to make sure Buck got the best in life, what he truly wanted. As the old adage says, “if you love someone, let them go.” Eddie could only hope it paid off in the end, because it really wasn’t feeling as though it would.

Words: 2.4k

Eddie didn’t want to be angry at Buck - it felt wrong, went against every fibre of his being, to feel so pissed off with Buck, of all people, his best friend, his partner, the most selfless man he knew, who would never do anything with the intent of hurting anyone else.

But anger was easy. Anger was familiar, being consumed by a burning rage was comfortable, easy, no matter how much he didn’t like it - no matter how much it scared Eddie, because it was too easy - and he couldn’t afford to fall back into old habits.

What Eddie was certain of, however, was that he would rather be pissed off at Buck, he would rather risk going back to what he swore to himself, to Buck, that he would never do again, than move beyond the anger. Because he didn’t know what would lie beyond it, but he was sure it would be a hell of a lot more frightening than all of the possibilities which anger provided him with.

He knew if he hadn’t stopped attending therapy as soon as it had stopped being mandated for him, that his therapist would have most likely told him that he had to move past anger, that he had to acknowledge what he really felt, but that was bullshit. Therapy had never really been Eddie’s thing, anyways.

So Eddie would sit and let his anger stew for a while, letting it simmer inside, burning him up from the insides - he deserved it anyway, he thought, as he tried desperately to make excuses to his own mind as to why it was right for him to do what he so clearly knew to be wrong.

He deserved to hurt himself by letting the anger build, he decided, because he simply managed to miss that something was so significantly wrong with Buck, that he wasn’t - wouldn’t be - happy in their relationship. Eddie had never wanted to do anything but protect and love Buck, but he had done nothing but fail at that, evidently.

It was all just made worse by the fact that Buck didn’t say anything, that he never had. He had never mentioned that he wanted more, that just Christopher and Eddie couldn’t be enough for him.

Instead, Eddie found out because he simply happened to walk past at just the right - or as it felt, wrong - time.

“I’ve always wanted a kid of my own.”

That was all it took. Eddie didn’t even know what on Earth Buck had been talking about with Chim for that to come up, but it had, and that was all that mattered.

Eddie would bend over backwards for Buck, he would do almost anything he could to make things as good as they could be for him, because he deserved it, but of course, the one thing that Buck wanted, was the one thing that Eddie was unable to provide.

A child. Of his own.

Eddie had always known that Buck loved children - he had made that clear from very early on in their friendship, and the way he was with Christopher was proof. Buck had proven that he would walk through hell and back for him, and Eddie knew that Buck was his son’s absolute favourite person in the world. He had always figured that would be enough for Buck, had always hoped it would be, because Eddie couldn’t give Buck a child of his own, nor was he sure if he was in a position in his life to have another child, if it were even a distant possibility.

As he thought about it, the anger began to dissipate, much to Eddie’s disappointment, because he knew what was coming.

Waves of sadness began to wash over him, and as they crashed and crashed, it felt like he was drowning. He preferred the violent, scorching pain of rage, to this dull, aching feeling that left him desperately gasping for breath, for a tiny bit of happiness, that was nowhere to be found.

Eddie hated to wallow in self-pity, but it was better to sit alone and sulk than to force anyone else to deal with his chaos, his broken heart.

Because he knew, no matter how much he wished he could, that he would do whatever it took to make Buck happy.

The strange selflessness was proof of Buck’s impact, proof of all of the ways he had changed Eddie for the better. And now Eddie had to do just one thing, one tiny thing, for the betterment of Buck’s life.

He had to let go, no matter how much it hurt, or how much he hated doing it. Buck would never do it for himself, not even if it was holding him back from happiness.

Eddie wasn’t sure which had been harder - breaking up with Buck, watching his crestfallen expression, which did nothing to make Eddie feel better about breaking his own heart on some Buck-esque self-sacrificial attempt at doing the right thing, or telling Christopher that Dad and Buck weren’t dating anymore, that Buck wouldn’t spend almost every night with them anymore. Both just made Eddie wish he could have stayed oblivious, that it then wouldn’t have been him that was the bad guy who had to do the breaking up - which, he had realised, would probably lead to him being alienated at work (they had all always liked Buck more than him, not that he could fault them for that, he felt the same way, but it meant that there would be hell to pay for hurting him, even though it was for Buck) - and who had to break the news to his son.

But it had to be done - someone had to do it, to make sure Buck got the best of life, what he truly wanted. As the old adage says, “if you love someone, let them go.” Eddie could only hope it paid off in the end, because it really wasn’t feeling as though it would.

When Eddie turned up to the 118 for his next shift, it was clear everyone knew what had happened. Buck had told Maddie, who had told Chim, and before long, the entire firehouse knew exactly what Eddie had done.

Eddie Diaz had been just the next in line to break Buck’s heart, just as Abby had before him, which he had sworn to never do. He was certain he was angrier at himself for doing so than anyone else, but he also knew it was for the best. It was for Buck. It had to be.

But all of the excuses he had for his actions within his head meant nothing to the others, who refused to so much as talk to him in passing, which only felt worse, because their shift was so quiet, and they were stuck there, just them.

While Hen, Chimney, Bobby and Buck sat up in the kitchen, each doing their own thing but sharing the space, Eddie had isolated himself to the gym - it was easier to be on his own of his own volition, and to pretend it wasn’t essentially going to be forced upon him.

Eddie tried to lose himself in what he was doing, tried to get each punch to the bag to take him further out of his mind, with little success, although it had rendered him unaware enough of his surroundings that he had not noticed Hen walking up behind him for far too long, not until she cleared her throat to get his attention.

He kept his back turned to her, not particularly keen to be chewed out for breaking up with Buck, for hurting him, when Buck was hardly the most hurt in the situation.

“Eddie, what happened?” She asked, as Eddie continued to try and tune her out. “You were both so happy.”

Eddie rolled his eyes at Hen’s words, because that’s what he had thought too, but he kept his focus firmly on the punching bag in front of him.

“Clearly not,” he muttered, not even sure that Hen would hear him, but she did, and reached out to touch his shoulder, causing him to turn around.

“Look, I can’t deal with you berating me for upsetting poor little Buck right now, okay, and I don’t think it’s really even your place to get involved.”

Eddie felt a little bad for snapping at her, but at the same time, he didn’t have the capacity to deal with the consequences of actions he hadn’t even wanted to take - not yet.

Hen, however, was clearly unbothered, used to dealing with people far ruder than Eddie, on what could be as often as a daily basis, in their job.

“Hey, I haven’t come here for Buck. I wanted to make sure you are okay, this can’t have been easy on you, and I hope you don’t think we are all against you.”

That made Eddie feel the slightest bit better, to have someone who wasn’t against him, when even he himself was conflicted on it, but it left him unsure as to what to say, because he wasn’t okay, but any attempt at a lie, Hen would almost immediately see right through him. He had to try anyway.

“I’m fine Hen, it's fine.”

As he predicted, Hen immediately gave him a look along the lines of are you fucking kidding me, not taking his bullshit for one moment.

“No its not, Eddie, and if you don’t want to talk about it with me, fine, but for the love of God, please talk to someone, okay?” After a moment where neither spoke, she began walking away, but briefly turned around - “You are as much our family as Buck is. It’s not that we don’t care about you, or blame you, it’s just much harder to tell when something is wrong than with Buck.”

Any other time he would have rolled his eyes at what she was saying, but to be honest, he appreciated the reassurance, because when they were all ignoring him, but were so concerned about Buck, it stung, just a bit, even if he deserved it.

“He wants a kid.”

Hen faced Eddie again, furrowing her eyebrows as she tried to work out what Eddie meant - Buck had always been so happy with Eddie and with Christopher.

“I heard him say it to Chimney. He wants a kid, one of his own.”

Eddie looked up from his hands, which he had been fiddling with as he spoke softly, to see Hen looking at him pityingly, but also to see Chim walking towards them, seemingly summoned by his name.

“Aw, Eddie, are you sure he meant that? Maybe it was out of context? Because you know that Buck loves Christopher like his own.”

“Well clearly that wasn’t enough for him!” He exclaimed, anger flooding through his veins as he tried to rein it back in - it wasn’t Hen’s fault that he hadn’t been enough for Buck, the same way he hadn’t been enough for Shannon. “So it’s done now. He can go off and find some woman and have a kid of his own. It’d be unfair of me to hold him back from that.”

Chim must have been close enough to hear what Eddie was saying, as a look of realisation, mixed with the same pity on Hen’s, painted his face.

“That’s not what he was saying, you know? Buck is so in love with you, and Christopher is his entire world. You are both everything that he has ever wanted.”

Eddie looked at Chim curiously, confused, because Chim had been a part of the initial conversation, and what he was saying seemed so far the opposite of what he had heard.

“Buck has always wanted a kid of his own, and he has one now, thanks to you - or he did.”

Eddie wondered if Hen and Chim could tell that the only thing he could think was oh shit. He had just ruined the best relationship he had ever been in over a misunderstanding.

“Go get him back, Eddie,” Hen said, smiling, and Eddie knew he had to do just that.

He made his way up the stairs to the kitchen area, trying to work out how on Earth he could grovel enough to make up for what he did. Eddie found Buck sat alone, Bobby having returned to his office.

“Buck, I- uh, I need to apologise,” Eddie began, looking at Buck, his eyes red and puffy, which just tugged on his heartstrings to see, knowing he was the cause.

Buck wouldn’t even look up at him.

“I, uh, heard you talking to Chim.”

Eddie watched as Buck looked up, horror all over his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep Eddie, I know Christopher is just your son and always will be, I just… love you both.”

Buck’s apology confused Eddie for a moment, because none of this was remotely his fault, Buck hadn’t said anything wrong - what part of the conversation was he even referring to? - but was he surprised by the show of Buck’s self-flagellating nature? Not particularly - Buck never had mastered being nice to himself.

“Overstep? You are my best friend, we are family! You could never! I thought you didn’t want us anymore.”

It was Buck’s turn to look confused, his head tilted to the side as he looked up towards Eddie.

“Why would you think that?”

“You said that you wanted a kid of your own, and I can’t give that to you!”

Buck’s eyes widened as Eddie spoke, eventually a slight smile appearing as he realised what had happened.

“And you didn’t listen past that? Eddie, you should know that you and Chris are all I need, or want.”

Begrudgingly, Eddie smiled slightly too.

“Yeah I should have, shouldn’t I?”

Buck stood up and made his way to where Eddie was standing, pulling him tight.

“I’m so glad I didn’t lose you,” Buck murmured, speaking softly into Eddie’s shoulder, his eyes welling up slightly with relief and joy.

“I love you, Buck.”

Eddie smiled as he said that, but before Buck was able to say it back, the bell began to ring out through the station, causing them to pull apart, rolling their eyes.

As they raced down the stairs to meet with the rest of the team, they were greeted with a grateful chorus of cheers from their friends.

They grinned, and Buck lent over to kiss Eddie on his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, you’re back together, but please, do not subject us to your ridiculous PDA. We do not need to see that.”

#911 #911 fox #buddie #buck #eddie diaz #evan buckley #henrietta wilson #howard han #chimney #911 tv #fanfic #buddie fanfiction #fanfiction #911 fanfic

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fairytalesintheend · 4 years

Text

Punk Rock Ezra

Word count: 1520

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, small mention of a suicide attempt, adult content, mentions of smut and cockwarming, language, I think that’s it but please lemme know

A/n: alright kiddos I have no idea what this is. Unedited, unbeta’d, barely revised, fully self indulgent Punk Rock Ezra. Inspired by the wonderful punk ezra hc’s from @rae-gar-targaryen’s beautiful brain. Loosely inspired by Punk Rock John by Neil Hilborn. Enjoy or tell me if it sucks😘 p.s. formatting might be fucked cause I copied from drive and pasted on mobile lmao

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The first time you saw Ezra he was crowd surfing up to the stage. You noticed the blonde streak in his hair and you watched it until it disappeared into the sea of people in the pit. At the next show the same streak caught your eye. Then the show after that and the one after that too. Ezra and that damned blonde streak were almost expected at any show you attended and you’d be kidding yourself if you thought it hadn’t become some sort of a comfort.

The first time you met Ezra, he’d pulled you up from the floor at a show. He’d asked if you were alright, brushed the dirt off your clothes then told you “Protect your face, birdie. If you get pushed, push back. You’ll be fine.” Then he threw you back into the pit.

One time he found you about to punch someone and grabbed you around your waist, pulling you back into the crowd. You were angry. At everything and nothing. You hated your life and the world and everything in it. You’d tried fighting him off of you but he held you firm against him. “Don’t start shit you can’t finish, birdie. You don’t know who their friends are, you’ll get yourself killed. Don’t be stupid.” He spun you around to face him but kept his grip on you. “We’ve all felt the way you feel, birdie. That’s why you’re here.” Ezra helped you protect yourself and let go at shows. Jumping and dancing and screaming your anger away instead of trying to take it out on some metal kid who wasn’t worth the time. He took your hand and showed you that this was a safe place. That everyone in the room had gone through shitty things and that you weren’t alone. That this was a place you belonged. He looked out for you and you looked out for him too. Which made falling in love with him all the more easy.

Ezra usually wore jeans that were cut off at the knee and ratty band t-shirts, most of which had the sleeves ripped off. His dirty black Chucks were the only shoes you ever saw him wear. He had tattoos of constellations and geometric designs that were scattered all over his arms. There were doodles and random pictures inked on his thighs that he’d done himself in high school. He also had a phrase in Latin on the left side of his neck. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant. “The stars incline us, they do not bind us.” He told you one day what it meant. “Fate can guide us birdie but we can’t let the stars do everything. It’s our job to be responsible for us and what we put into this world.”

He had a nose ring and his ears were pierced in three places. All he’d done himself over the sink in his bathroom. One time he offered to pierce your nose for you and while you declined at first, three weeks later you found yourself sitting on Ezra’s bathroom counter while he brought the hot needle to your face.

He had a scar on his cheek. Almost crescent moon shaped below his eye. The first time he told you how he got it he told you it was from a knife fight. Later on you’d find out he was trying to impress you when in actuality it was from falling off his skateboard when he was 17.

He’d ask you to touch up the blonde streak in his hair. He really could do it himself but he liked when you did it because he was convinced you did it much better than he ever did.

He talked all the time, about everything. Music, art, science, literature. He went on long rants about injustices in the world but they sounded more like monologues from your favorite play. You couldn’t do anything but stare, breathing him in while he strung together the pieces of his life for you. His voice wrote journal entries on your bedroom walls. He forced you to talk as well. “There’s a storm brewing in that head of yours. Can’t hide those eyes from me, Nightingale. They tell more stories than I do. Talk.” Sometimes you listened to him. You would talk about anything and everything or nothing at all. Whether you’d liked to admit it or not, it worked. Better than any other therapy you’d tried. Other times you’d turn away from him and cross your arms, curling into yourself. You’d hear him let out a long breath. Then he’d be at the stereo. He would pick a cd then turn up the volume almost as loud as it could go so you couldn’t hear your own thoughts anymore. He’d make you stand on the bed with him and sing. Scream the words as loud as you could until you felt better. “The church of punk rock is always open, birdie,” He told you once. “This is how you pray.”

You never thought you could love a sound more than you loved the sound of music until you heard Ezra moan your name against your neck as he moved inside you. The grunts and whines that fell from his lips creating a symphony that you wanted on repeat forever. The way he moved in you felt the closest to holy you were ever going to get. Oh how he worshipped you. And you him. You could spend hours here, the sanctuary of each other’s bodies. Hands, teeth, and tongues making their mark. He would stay inside you for a while after. Holding you, scattering soft kisses anywhere he could reach. Sometimes you’d fall asleep like this then wake up the next morning to worship each other all over again.

Ezra was a survivor. You knew that the first time you saw him. Everyone in that dirty basement was a survivor. Ezra talked about his entire life with you but you knew there were some things he kept hidden from the world. Not that you blamed him. You had your fair share of things you’d never told anyone. Of course, that changed over time. You both came to each other for confession. Whispered admissions of sin in the dark of Ezra’s bedroom. He told you things that made your heart ache. How could he be so gentle? So forgiving? When the world had done so much? Would you ever be? So forgiving of this world, so gentle toward yourself and this life? Or would this anger you held inside you always be there? You’d asked Ezra one night. “I am not as healed as you may imagine, Nightingale.” He said. “I do my share of praying more than you’d know.”

You took care of Ezra and in turn, Ezra took care of you. He’d saved you from yourself on more than one occasion. One night was particularly bad. You’d locked yourself in the bathroom with a kitchen knife. When Ezra showed up at your place he’d knocked on the door and you yelled at him to go away. To just let you do this. It would be better. So much better. But instead he broke the lock on the door when he kicked it open. He held his arms out to you with caution. Coaxed you to listen to him and let go as he moved closer to you. He’d pulled the knife out of your hands and pulled you into his arms. You fought him at first, wriggling in his arms until he backed against the wall and held you so you couldn’t move. The two of you sunk to the floor. You sobbed into his chest, hiccuping every few moments. Your breathing was still rapid. For the first time ever, Ezra just stayed silent. He ran his hand over your hair and held you tightly against him. He only spoke after your breathing wouldn’t calm down. “Shhh, shhh birdie I need you to slow down okay? Just breathe with me.” You stayed on the cold bathroom floor in his arms for what seemed like hours. Then Ezra picked you up, made you some food and sat with you on your couch. He didn’t try to get you to talk. He just put in a cd and turned up the volume. He kissed your forehead and then your lips. “One day we’ll leave this place birdie. I promise you. I’ll get you out of here.”

He kept his promise. Years after the first time you saw Ezra, he stands in your kitchen with your daughter on his hip. He’s making breakfast and singing to her while he stirs batter for pancakes. You’re not angry anymore. You take meds that work for you and you even have a therapist you don’t completely hate. Your life is so different than it used to be. You don’t need to pray as much as you used to but in times of trouble Ezra will still pop in a cd and turn up the volume and you can hear the first thing he said to you. “You’ll be fine.”

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Tags for fun: @rae-gar-targaryen @qveenbvtch @steeeeeeeviebb @zeldasayer @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @fleetwoodmactshirt @cinewhore @lokiaddicted @pascalplease @krissology @frannyzooey @mostly-megan @flightlessangelwings @voteforpedropascal @pettyprocrastination @artemiseamoon @justanotherblonde23

#this is trash but I like it lmao #Ezra #punk rock ezra #Ezra x reader #prospect au #prospect movie #Ezra prospect #fanfic

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themeghaproject · 3 years

Text

One Year of Med School Completed!!

MY FIRST YEAR OF MED SCHOOL IS DONE. INSANITY!! I passed all my exams and in August I’ll officially be an M2. It’s a little surreal I just did a whole year of med school sucessfully. I still feel like I know nothing but there is some level of uneasiness that has disappeared.

Mid October, I didn’t sleep the night before my week in the hospital began because I was so unbelievably nervous. I had no idea where anything was, I barely knew my classmates, and my medical knowledge could be summed up in three sentences. Flash forward to April, my friends and I decide to stop by the hospital after a meeting at school to check out a bake sale. We’re pleasantly chatting and laughing as we make our way to the hospital cafeteria. No hesitation about if we’re going in the right direction or if security is going to stop us..this is such a small instance of comfort and if I was walking into the hospital to do anything legitimate I’d still freak out, but hey, I’ll still count this as a win!

I wish I had some advice to give about the first year but I don’t. I think my experience was so different given the pandemic. I will say that while the vast knowledge that is demanded of you is incredibly difficult one of the harder aspects for me was the loneliness. For the first time in my life, I found myself standing in unfamiliar territory that no one close to me understood. My life looked so different from my friends and family. In the past year, there have been so many instances where I would go to dinner with my childhood friends and I would simply stay silent and smile as they told me about all the wild adventures they go on as “normal” 21 year olds. I’d be lying if I said that didn’t leave me feeling insecure.

I decided to seek out help. I started seeing a therapist in January, and it’s been great! It’s nice to have a neutral third party to rant to, and even though I like to think I’m pretty self aware, she brings a fresh new perspective. She has made me realize things about myself that I was pretty oblivious to before. That being said, I sometimes find all the psychoanalysis annoying. I already spend so much time overthinking my every move. I think I’m learning my journey with therapy may be a bit disjointed and infrequent.

While there have been difficulties and breakdowns, there have also been successes and wins! I like to think I’ve made a few friends. They’re all great and I genuinely love spending time with them! I am excited to make more connections as we move to a more in-person format in August. Whether it feels like it or not, my medical knowledge has increased.

Medical school was nothing like what I anticipated. I think when I first started this blog I expected to fill it with cute, rom-com type funny stories..ya there haven’t been very many of those LOL. Medical school isn’t the fantasy musical I had created in my head. I blame myself for that but it was also EVERYONE around me who perpetuated that. For years, people in my life told me that I just needed to put my head down and work hard because when I went to med school “everything would fall into place”. I think something a lot of medical students learn fairly early on is that in this long journey there’s never a time where it gets easier. Fun doesn’t disappear. Not at all. You just have to make time for the fun and the “easy”. There won’t come a time where you can be like “okay! it’s over!” because the path to becoming a physician is relentless.

I’m honestly a little shocked at how I carried myself this year. This is the most academic stress I’ve ever endured yet I wasn’t as “crazy” as I have been in the past. Maybe it’s maturity and maybe it’s exhaustion. Caring is important. I still find myself occasionally answering emails in the shower lmao..but am I checking my grades while I’m out with friends or while I’m driving? No.

With one year down, I’m trying to figure out if I’m happy with where I am, with how I did. I’m not at the top of my class, school doesn’t consume my every thought, and I’m not in 10 research projects. I’ll be honest: those facts stress me out a little but I’m also strangely okay with it. I want to be the best doctor I can be but I don’t think I want that to be my whole life--a revelation 17 year old me would have a stroke hearing. My final verdict is that I’m proud of myself for making it here and after this break I’m ready to get back to it and do even better! Happy Summer!

#med school #medical #med student #medical school #student #doctor #med studyblr #medstudlife

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englacial · 3 years

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A Warm Goodbye or A Message for the Future

I haven’t been active here in more than a year which is mostly by accident but also quite purposeful. I had intended to remain in the RP community but as is evident by my many returns, disappearances, and moments of unreliability, this is a chapter of my life that has come to an end. I say this with an abundance of love for what writing here has given me and also with renewed knowledge of what that progression has looked like for me. This community has been amazing and it has also been devastating for me at times. I have also played a role in that devastation and wasn’t always the best version of myself (and I’m still not).

COVID certainly threw my life into turmoil and unearthed a lot.

In December of last year I went through a mental health crisis that landed me in patient for a brief period and also lead me to the deepest and most accurate understanding of my mental health I’ve ever contended with. Through the process of finding a new therapist experienced with dissociative disorders, I was diagnosed with DID and my whole life suddenly made sense.

The ups and downs, the identity confusion, the loss of time and deep misunderstandings of situations I was faced with suddenly made sense in their entirety. Many gaps have been filled simply by working on this in therapy and it has forced me to reflect on my time in the RP community and how I’ve interacted with fellow writers, both good and bad. It’s also made it incredibly difficult to let go of this account and writing because for me, it was often the only opportunity I had to express myself as me. Roleplaying was an excuse to be a different person, an easy cover for what was actually occurring in our life. I haven’t always known how to do that nor did I fully grasp why OCs felt more like me than me (surprise! they’re me). There were times when my self-expression was really self-injurious and that is painful but necessary for me to realize and acknowledge. Trauma changes the ecosystem of the human body in upsetting and ugly ways. More than anything, I was escaping the recognition that in refusing to heal, I was often doing harm to myself and others.

Fundamentally, I was seeking human connection where I had been denied it and we were playing out parts and trauma we were forced to keep hidden. For me, DID is about multiple traumas I have faced and the way my body chose to cope with it. It means a lot for what my childhood looked like and the incredible survival tools necessary for me to grow into an adult.

When I first started roleplaying on tumblr I was just 13 years old. I’m now 24 and have so much still to learn. I knew I was different growing up. I knew I had experienced pain. I knew I had difficulties expressing myself. I didn’t know I had DID or why there was so much confusion crowding my experiences online and in, truly, the only space I was able to fall into away from the ongoing turmoil in my life. I went by many different names, played many different characters, and made many different friends but this was difficult and I was not always kind. Frequently there were dissociative barriers that presented as amnesia and compartmentalized selves that in DID are called alters. The consistency with which I was forgetting myself, my actions, and people I’d met was a major detriment and it also enabled adults in the community to take advantage of and use me. The RP community was the stage for which many people with more life experience than myself, hurt me as a child. As I remained in the community, I began growing into a very dysfunctional adult and a part of that was to hide from my past in the community and parts of myself I didn’t recognize or accept as being me (collective). It is very difficult to contend with actions you don’t remember and I was not ready to take accountability for what I did as a scared and hurt child and what I was running from as an equally scared and hurt adult.

Mental health has always been important to me. I have talked at length about being a survivor of CSA, trafficking, and other forms of abuse and neglect. I have talked about my struggles with PTSD and depression. Despite this I was still not healing. Acknowledgement of mental health only does so much if the process of actually healing is not accessible to you.

My biggest takeaway from the long term, trauma informed therapy I have started is that I really didn’t know what healing looked like until I not only had an accurate assessment of what the problem was but accepted it and stopped hiding from it. This is difficult with DID. It is designed to operate in the background. Not knowing precisely your own experience, not having all of your memories is a way to conceal pain, not confront it. Working with myself as a system has been the most fundamental building block in actually healing, in actually accepting my trauma, in accepting how my trauma lead me to being dysfunctional in my relationships and in how I interacted with the people I cared about. Before I started doing this, it was easy to distance myself from my own actions. I did not remember them, I believed it was another person (because often it was, though this does not distance the actions from myself), and I thought I could just move away from it because it was not representative of me. That’s just not true. System accountability demands that I confront in myself the ways that not holding myself accountable lead to harm caused. In the RP community, I have been antagonistic of others. I have concealed my identity when confronted with actions of my past that I did not remember. As a child I lied about my age to the appeasement of adults in my circle at the time who were grooming me and as a result people connected to me were hurt when I moved away from them as someone else entirely. So much happened in this community and with people I met that it was foundational in how I learned to cope (for better or worse) and how I carried myself going forward. The accounts I had here were more real than life to me. That for me was a dysfunction. I was hurt as much as I caused hurt and this carried over when people recognized me but I didn’t recognize them or I was pressed for information and suddenly realized I was multiple people. It happened so many times here that I don’t blame anyone for feeling distanced from me, hating me, feeling hurt by me. My sense of self was fragmented and so was my sense of my actions. As it comes together more clearly, I understand now that as much as I have faced harassment in this community and my share of hatred and vitriol, I contributed to it as well.

In order to truly say goodbye, I feel I must also directly hold myself accountable for harm caused by my actions while I shared space here.

I made friends who were hurt in the crossfire of my search for self, whose trust I broke and whose boundaries I did not respect. I don’t think I can ever directly apologize to these people for what transpired between us but I do understand with specificity what actions of mine lead to the dissolution of our friendship and the hurt that they felt as a result. Those things weren’t ok. Being aware of the circumstances that lead to them does not excuse them and I am sorry. For many years I was a steamroller of uncertainty and of cyclical harm.

What I want and what I want for others is happiness.

Happiness to me is getting to experience the full breadth of human emotion while living under a stable community that is providing all of the basic necessities such as food, water, shelter, and materials to create goods and explore creative talents while simultaneously getting to share all of these things with everyone else inside the system. Being connected to others while having your needs met, is the only form of life that makes sense and for two full decades of my life, I did not have this. Many others don’t either.

Systematic abuse and denial of resources is something that follows people within their muscle memory patterns, nervous system, and within neurological pathways inside of their brain. People with dissociative amnesia are often among the most exploited because they were never given the tools to continue to build memory recall. When they are given all of these tools, we find that overtime they will continue to get better at recalling their lives and experiences, people they have met, and food they have eaten, joys they’ve shared. The brain is a muscle that retains everything that happens to it. It is incredibly absorbent and elastic. If something happens to it, it will remember. For people who have been systematically harmed, especially over extended periods of time, this can cause extremely difficult issues with memory recall. Eventually, these memories can return but it means removing people from systems of harm not by force but by replacing them with healthy and bustling systems that can offer them the love, tools, support, and nourishment for their body that they need.

Systemic malnourishment especially through resource denial under capitalism is a major contributor to this problem. Chronic dehydration’s link to memory problems, to name one example, is well documented. The issue with this even when people have access to all of that information is that they don’t have the reflexive memory abilities to continue to nourish themselves and be well. More and more these people and communities impacted by this kind of harm will seek refuge in accessibility (positive). If the tools are right in front of them surrounded by a multitude of people and supportive communities, they will have a much easier time remembering. Grounding is incredibly important even once outside of a system of harm because recall ability is a learned skill. People who have experienced repeated and/or prolonged abuse and harm (including systematic abuse like racism, homophobia, transphobia, et al.) have a much more difficult time learning and retaining this ability which contributes to the formation of dissociative disorders like DID.

The memories are still there, but it’s extremely difficult to begin to unravel that mystery when they are among the most likely to forget to remember. Recollecting memories is not only difficult for them, it is something their body has reflexively protected them against so that they can continue to survive in ongoing systems of harm.

When they continue to reproduce systems of harm, it is because they have been systematically gatekept from their needs and the healthy communities that can meet those needs from birth.

In order to help people suffering from dissociative barriers in terms of DID/OSDD, it is of utmost importance to continue to care for them as a collective so that they can then go on to care for themselves and give back to communities that they may have unknowingly harmed (this includes caring for yourself). It’s important to look inside of these communities and the conditions they’ve been living in with love and support. Sometimes the conditions are bad because they are incapable of caring for themselves after previous caretakers have abandoned them.

Many people with dissociative disorders come from families who were absent for the majority of their lives even if they were living under the same roof. Sometimes these families will have noticed their child’s behavior, questioned where it came from and then find the answers are unexpected and daunting to take on. When faced with the question of whether or not their own child is safe to continue loving as a result, they will often continue to recreate systems of harm or are told by healthcare professionals to do things with their children that are not healthy for them which can on its own become traumatic.

The environments that dissociative disorders result from are very difficult to navigate. If you suspect you or someone you know is dealing with a dissociative disorder, it is important to keep in mind the circumstances endured that might have contributed.

We cannot always be the protectors, we cannot always shield people from harm, we cannot always stop them from causing harm themselves, but an increased awareness and understanding looking in can help considerably.

People with dissociative disorders are at high risk of being repeatedly groomed and harmed because of the nature of the disorders. They deserve the protection and security to fully form and emote as a human being without being harmed again, and when they themselves cause harm it is important to understand why this is happening and it is necessary when they realize that something is harmful that those behaviors and beliefs are replaced with new ones that are healthy, constructive, and more reflective of what they want. With dissociative and amnesiac barriers, this can become complicated but it is mandatory for system growth and healing.

Preventing harm starts in recognizing where it lives inside of ourselves.

To finish this post, I would like to share some poems that myself and others in my system wrote regarding our experience with DID:

Each time it happened I became another person But they always found me I tried my best to explain I’m still me but I need to be safe And no one listened I tried to show don’t tell I tried to scream it out loud Then I tried to forget it completely They always found me The caretaker inside of me was a flame I was forced to keep lit Sometimes kindness could not touch his flame The child hungered for a hand to hold but was held back from exploration No one told me I was we I had to dissect myself over and over in a lab that I created Now that I love myself Who is here to rejoice? -Beck

In my dreams I see a giant machine That I pilot I step inside my circuits Firing As a connection blooms to life I feel each part creak and crack As they move away and step forward The joints protest with disuse but Life bursts to turn on Twinkling lights of Motherboard parts that Illuminate metal I become like the moving backdrop to the stars a Galaxy swirling into A robot

Suddenly I feel afraid Am I just stitched together scraps that someone rescued from the crash? Am I the real deal? Or are my thoughts Synthetic projections onto a reality of my past that I’m just parts and not You Not Whole But wait I love the parts I Love the robot I see them woven together like A junkyard dragon that Soars overhead as a beacon of glittering silver held together by Intricate threads closer to a Kite Than heavy metal Something else entirely The machine cannot be confined to this earth It transcends infinitely It is life sometimes more than living -Aspen

I remember when I was small and I was running Through flowers Through mazes I remember when I was small and my palms would catch hold of blades of grass to brace my fall I remember being so small the ground would swallow me up Puddles like looking glasses That I dip into and Sink down to the bottom The boats crossing overhead While I swim I remember when the world was small and I was big Looking down at towns moving below Hiding in the ceiling as The room moves -Hannah

I have danced on the graves of relationships cast aside Pretending they were temples and not places of pain I am not the same ghost who haunts there Though some would see it in my face and hear it in my Disembodied voice Telling them I’m So over it... While the tears still sting I don’t visit their headstones anymore but the remnants of offerings I’ve made with Sweat/Blood Still linger like the bitter taste of Wine sipped in your honor or that I pour out at the soil marking where you left or where we stumbled A place you tried to bury me, too I don’t leave you to rest in peace I leave so I can -Jana

I see the revolving door of Our mind Many stepping in to walk through Sometimes more than one and It’s great I talk to them They’re my friends They go to work They wave and smile at me But I don’t step on Something inside of me holds me in place Afraid of the Spinning wheel Often I step on and just get Spun right out or I say the wrong things on the other side I don’t have the best reputation Some would say “She lies,” or “She’s so aggressive!” They see my teeth bared in anger and My arms folded over my chest to Conceal the soft spot under my armor where a spear might pierce They see me like a beast whose eyes glow red They do not know that the Wolf isn’t just a part of me and that I’m the monster they’ve seen There are others who have set fire to my path Concealing the tracks that reveal Villages I’ve been to Living peacefully before the Wolf leaps out and disrupts them Many people got too close or They hurt too personally and I took the blame for the abandonment and pain looking at a legacy where A scared kid devastated other scared kids I cleaned up after them and I Built my defenses to Hide them

She is like the Moon A part of her is always hidden

I bound these words into myself like A spirit possessed to make everyone else the Ghost So many people caught in the crossfire of Escaping abuse All of it is ugly I was built to chase things off The Wolf Creeping around the concrete walls as The Woman in the Maze Defending its center with Medusa’s untrained gaze A specter of someone loved and Incapable of telling them while Slipping further and further away from material safety The hurt doesn’t excuse the hurt Every move I make opens Old wounds that others have healed or forgotten but I’m still carrying If the women I’ve loved were all one person they too would Be like the moon Parts hidden or Omitted Because it’s easy to forget how They hurt me because I was a girl who loved girls -Jana

Some have said I was the first to look out over the edge and into the expanse of unknowns below without fear And I ache when they’re not right Being unafraid of dying is different than being unafraid of Death I know I’ve imagined myself there Not even as a last resort Thinking maybe this will be fun to try I’ve seen myself with my toes curling over ledges for purchase Tightrope walking the line between here and jumping Romanticizing the strength it would take to Let myself fall or Climb down the rope To meet Death again Her face kind enough for me to feel regret for a split second before Rebirth I’m not afraid of Death But the truth is I was never gazing over a ledge more than The bowl of the toilet Vomiting Closer to death on the bathroom floor Naked and feeble Than I was in imagined leaps of faith See, I still fear dying and no... I wouldn’t be the first Even in our family Death has our list pulled up and Our numbers on speed dial I think she’s watched me on my hands and knees mopping up blood and just Tapped her watch “Are we done with this? I have somewhere to be.” But that voice wasn’t her nor the tapping it was A mother sick of waiting for me to get ready for school or a counselor unflinching when I say I’ve watched friends die Until eventually there was just never enough time for dying and though I visited the ledge frequently in my mind and explored the chasm down in search I forgot about my body Nothing left to harm if I am In between here and there Then it just became what sacrifices I could make How I could fantasize about martyrdom and Sail forward into the pitch As someone else’s hero when Still I was just Killing myself What an unexpected turn for The Hero and yet I see it all the time These visions of divine masculinity Achilles in Hades All point towards her again Death’s hands firmly grasping his as he Dies for his friends like a valiant flame extinguished and Everyone weeps His devastation saving them... That was what I stacked myself up against Thinking the only service I could give to those I love was My life in its entirety Which is why I’m not The Hero I’m the Leader, the Counselor, the Friend, the Lover I’m pulling myself away from steps taken towards a drop because Unity is not forged by Taking a leave of absence but by Seeing pain in others and Not thinking you have to live for them Only wanting to survive with them Envisioning futures where you thrive with or without them knowing that The way you believed solidarity was Shared suffering and not Shared community in times of suffering Was a cowardice you will live to outgrow Now strength looks like pulling weeds for a garden Packing up boxes Reminding yourself to stretch or Focusing on your breathing as it guides you down into A hollow part of your body An energy tightening there and fanning out slowly as Intention Replacing the visions of a ledge with Floating Swimming out into a peaceful place inside of you and Breathing in again Calm and of course I wouldn’t deceive you The ledge is still a place I go to and Look down like scrying into Death’s vastness and I cry too It was never funny It was never beautiful Those are lies told to me and you The bones on the bathroom floor were me and even when I rattled No one answered -Tristan

When we love we love together I have never been a singular Inside me there are waves rippling on the shore Formative memories distorted and abstracted with each crash of foam against ground up trash I hear a knocking on the wall of our beach house as if a ghost hides inside When things happen I don’t understand I ask about the real children in the closets like me that I can’t touch Are they scared inside too? I see your eyes go glossy when you remember yours I want to ask about what about where and whom I want to know you’re like me I’m sorry I didn’t know that it was painful -Tristan

I want to tell you that you don’t have to be afraid But there are places you are no longer allowed This is so I can heal and not because I am protecting you I want to show my thoughtfulness The things I see in you The joy That joy hibernates inside me too The winter brings us closer together Generational trauma sprawled on a frigid map yet so cramped for a bedroom that gives me glimpses of the past Sitting cross legged on green carpet while I play games I pretend are me All my heroes have no gender No voice No face Please see me It is the greatest love I’ve ever known -Beck

I want all of our friends old and new to know: we are safe, loved, and cared for. Thank you for the memories and the systems of love you introduced to our life. We love and thank you. You met us without knowing and we felt seen here and this helped us to accept ourselves as a system. -Tristan (yes, really)

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x-starshines-x · 4 years

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JatP Fanworks Appreciation Week

Work in Progress Wednesday

i told @mamirugbee that i'd do what i can this week!!

here's a little wip of a bobby fic that i'm working on :)

Weep, little lion man, you’ll never be what is in your heart. Weep, little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start.

When he was younger, Bobby got into a lot of fights. They were almost always someone else's fault, how could he be blamed for sticking up for himself or some other kid? Most teachers didn’t care how or why a fight started, just how it ended, and if it ended with Bobby’s fist knocking out some “poor, defenseless” kid’s front teeth out, then he was the one that would be punished for it. That’s how he ended up transferring from seven different schools in less than five years.

It’s also how he ended up staying with his grandparents when he was thirteen. Only after moving from his parents, three separate aunts, a cousin, and his mother’s estranged brother. No one wanted him for long. He wasn’t ungrateful, (regardless of what the various counsellors, teachers, therapists, and cops had to say about him) he just couldn’t turn a blind eye to bullies. It wasn’t right that someone could just wake up one day and decide to make someone else’s life miserable. His grandparents, at least, understood that, and more importantly they didn’t blame him. In fact, they’d made it very clear that they were supportive, and even proud of him for doing what’s right. That in itself still confused him, but he wasn’t gonna question a good thing too much. Living with them was the best thing that could have possibly happened to him, for several reasons.

He’d been kicked out of two schools for fighting the year he moved in with them, and while they understood his righteous energy, they also begged him to please make this new school last as they were running out of options. He promised them, and himself, no more fights in school. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t even make it three steps onto school property before he was sure that that promise was going right out the window. He sent a silent apology to his poor, long suffering grandparents for what he was about to do and charged around the staircase. The sounds of a scuffle, and casually thrown slurs were getting louder as he rounded the corner. Surveying the situation, he started weighing his odds. There were three older boys, probably ninth graders or so, surrounding a boy that looked closer to Bobby’s age, maybe even younger.

The first thing he noticed was how small the younger boy looked, and honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that he was shielding his face with a history textbook that Bobby knew was part of the standard eighth grade class (he’d been in two before and the textbook had stayed constant), he would have thought the kid was a sixth grader. The older boys were fairly scrawny too, the middle one was only slightly taller than Bobby, and brunette. The one on his left was a little shorter but stronger looking than the first boy, while the one on the right was blonde and painfully average looking. Bobby was confident he could subdue them if he had to. He decided that he would attempt to get them to back off with words, and only start swinging if one of them tried to hit him first.

“Hey assholes!” he shouts, trying to shift the attention from the boy on the ground to himself.

The three boys whip their heads around, looking for a teacher probably, but their faces relax into casual smirks when they realize it’s another student. The one in the middle, presumably the ringleader, steps forward looking Bobby up and down.

“Yeah, what the fuck do you want?”

Bobby bristles at his bored tone and steps closer himself.

“I wanna know what the hell is going on here.” he spits angrily, gesturing at the scene in front of him.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, kid,” he says, as if Bobby being younger than him is some grave misstep, then continues. “Besides, what would you even do about it if it was?” he challenges.

Bobby almost breaks his promise -and the kid’s nose- right there, but manages to keep himself under control. He sets his jaw and stares daggers into the other boy’s eyes.

“I think that you three should leave,” he grits out, measured and deathly calm.

Sensing the threat, the boy on the left moves to flank the leader.

“He told you to get lost, kid. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I don’t think I’m anyone, but I know that you three are about to be scraping each other off of the sidewalk if you don’t start hauling ass soon,” he responds with a dangerous grin.

He makes eye contact with the blonde one, the only one who hadn’t moved yet, and sees his expression shift like he’d just solved a big mystery.

“You’re the Wilson kid, aren’t you?” blondie asks, stepping back cautiously.

“Huh?” the grin on Bobby’s face falters for a second, in confusion. Why would this guy know him?

“I heard what you did to that kid at Paramount, and the one from Hawthorne,” he states. Looking to his friends, he warns, “I’m not getting fucked up by an eight grader for some little fairy, it’s not worth it.”

Bobby didn’t like remembering what happened at his other schools once he left them, but it was for a good cause this time. He could probably get them to back off without fighting. The way that the kid on the floor was shaking and flinched every time someone moved made him nervous to see what would happen if a real fight broke out. He knew what those reactions alluded to, and if he could get out of the situation without traumatizing the guy anymore he’d sure as hell try.

“I’d suggest,” the easy grin settles back on his features as he pushes into their space, “That if you don’t want to end up being ‘those kids from Los Feliz who got their shit rocked by the Wilson kid’, you Get. The fuck. Out of here.” he says the last part very slowly and quietly. He knows they can hear him by the way they shiver when he steps back.

He tries not to laugh too much at the way they fall over each other to run past him.

As soon as they turn the corner, Bobby’s focus snaps back to the boy on the floor. He looks even smaller like this, scrapes on his face and breathing ragged, even though the sources of the conflict are gone. Bobby selfishly wishes he would have gotten the chance to knock their teeth in for all they put this kid through. He approaches slowly, and tries to exude a calming aura while he holds his hand out to the boy.

“Need a hand?” he grins.

The boy looks almost shocked that someone is offering him help, and it takes all the self-control that Bobby has to not go tearing off in the direction of the bullies and make them regret even looking at this kid. He knows that this boy's reactions aren’t the sole fault of a few middle school bullies, no, it takes years of that kind of treatment for someone to react this way, and that only fuels the fire in Bobby’s soul.

The boy takes his hand and lets Bobby pull him to his feet, breathing out a small thanks. Now that he’s standing, Bobby notices that the kid has at least four inches on him, he’s still scrawny as hell though.

“It’s no problem, man. No one deserves that.” Bobby shrugs, the boy looks at him with a curious expression, like he’s trying to figure out if he’s joking or not.

“Anyway, I’m Bobby,” he says, hoping to gain the boy’s trust.

“Most people call me Peter. I haven’t seen you around here before,” the kid, Peter, says quickly, looking so flustered that the freckles on his face almost disappear with how red he is. Bobby figured that he hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, or out loud for that matter.

“Yeah, I just transferred from Hawthorne. Today’s my first day,” he explains easily.

Peter seems more at ease with Bobby, and smiles at him widely.

“That’s sick, do you have your schedule? Maybe we have some classes!”

“Yeah, just gimme one sec.” he says, fishing out the crumpled paper from his mess of a backpack. He never claimed to be organized.

Tag List: (i don't really have one yet but here,,) @jaskiers-sweetkiss @bright-molina you guys were in the chat while i was piecing this together

#i said little wip then proceeded to unload 1400 words on you #julie and the phantoms #jatp #bobby wilson #reggie peters

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oof-musicals · 3 years

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Together, me and you//Chapter one

This is the first chapter of a project I haven't been able to stop thinking about. I'm so excited about it and I just,, I'm really proud of this guys. I’m not the too educated on travelling out of the occasional trips I’ve been on, so thank you so much to Chandler for talking it out with me, you are a lifesaver. Anyway, here it is guys, I hope you enjoy it:)

Tag list: @tarantulas4davey, @racecrack-higgins

(let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!)

“Racetrack Higgins has always been apart of the busy city of Manhattan, he loved the busy streets and lively aspects that accompanied the state. He had never thought about leaving until now.

Albert DaSilva moved to Manhattan from then the never-sleeping New York. In the 6 years he'd lived here, he had started to build his life in the city he now called home. But from time to time, he can't help but want to experience the quietness of a small town again.

With impulsiveness and desire, the two set out on a trip across the country. 50 states. Two boys set out for an adventure. One trip.

They got this.”

Road trip au

Content Warnings: Implied child abuse (Not explicit and it’s like 0.2 seconds), Self-esteem issues.

Words: 3142

Read on Ao3

Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins was a city boy. Living in Manhattan and visiting nearby boroughs often since the day he was born made navigating the subway - though he opts to walk instead - fairly easy. He loved the city. The lively energy of the city and the never-ending busy streets made him feel at home. He'd never thought about leaving before, could you really blame him? He’s been here for twenty-five years. He has a great life. He loved it here. Why would he leave?

Albert DaSilva, unlike Race, grew up in a city in Illinois. He moved to New York shortly after his two years of community college and never looked back. That’s what he needed. An escape from his family. Well, his father. He hadn’t seen his brothers since his sophomore year of high school. And his father was just… not the best. So moving away was probably one of the best things he could’ve done. He had a great job and he made a family here. He had good friends and a boyfriend he loved very much. Still, as much as he loved New York, he missed the quietness of the Midwest - how could he not? His hometown had friendly faces that were much more common than in the active streets of Manhattan and the way some nights were just simple. When he was growing up, he loved falling asleep to the cicadas outside his window. Falling asleep to cars honking just wasn’t the same. Sometimes, the desire to go back to that was too much to handle.

Right now, the desire was too much.

He doesn’t know what brought it on, but Albert recognized the feeling of homesickness the moment he woke up. He felt selfish to feel like this, especially when he had a good life with his boyfriend of five years. Race was his rock, the love of his life. To say he missed Illinois felt like he was saying he never wanted to meet Race. And while Race would probably understand that’s not at all how Albert meant it, it troubled Albert deep down.

Albert had decided to open up about it to Finch a while ago. It was probably the best decision Albert has made in a long time. Finch was actually pretty good when it came to giving advice. Davey would’ve been too pushy - not that it was totally Davey’s fault that he came on a little strong sometimes, that advice was not something Albert was particularly looking for. He didn’t want to go to Race - Race was amazing and great and Albert didn’t want to bother him with any problems he might have. Finch was the best person he’d had to give him advice lately. And today was no different.'

It was hard to concentrate on work all day. Sure work was never the best but he had the job of helping design video games. This was a teenage boy’s dream and he had trouble concentrating because he was missing his hometown. It sucked. He hated his hometown for the nineteen years he lived there, and now he couldn’t help but miss it.

Finch noticed. He noticed almost immediately. Albert noticed Finch eyeing him multiple times throughout the day and Albert could tell what he was concerned without him even needing to say anything. And, almost predictably, he brought it up when they were finally alone during a lunch break that they thankfully had together, despite them having separate jobs.

“Okay, I’m just gonna get to the point,” Finch announced as they sat down to eat lunch. “You’ve been off. What’s going on?”

“First of all, you’re blunt.” Albert sighed. “Second of all, what are you, my therapist?”

“Albert.”

“Okay okay, fine.” Albert stirred his water with a straw. “I’m just, missing Illinois and shit, and I kind of want to go back.”

“Like, move?” Finch’s voice had the slightest hint of sadness to it.

“Nonono not move,” Albert replied quickly. Sure, he missed home a lot but he couldn’t leave his new life behind. Not his friends. Not Race. “I don’t want to be in New York for the rest of time either.”

“Okay then, what about just visiting?”

“No, I can’t just go.” Albert opposed Finch’s suggestion. “I’d love to but, Race and I have a great relationship and I don’t want to mess that up with my own issues. I don’t want whatever I have with him to crumble.”

Finch was silent for a moment before he finally spoke his mind. “Albert. You are my best friend and I completely understand where you’re coming from but can I say something, as your friend?” Albert nodded. “You are such fucking idiot. Race loves you. He never shuts up about you! Even when you are around. You’ve been together five years. If he wasn’t completely in love with you, he would’ve left a long time ago. And Al we both know he’d be down for the idea to travel the world with you if he could. I get that you feel that you are one step away from messing things up with Race but seriously, I don’t think he could love you more than he already does. Just, talk to him. And if something horrible happens, which it won’t, I’m only a phone call away.”

And that’s why he went to Finch for advice. Albert smiled a bit. Even though he wasn’t the most convinced that his relationship was a landmine, Finch was probably right. Race has done crazier things than just travel to a different state (even when he’s never been to a different state). Really, what’s the worst that could happen?

___________

The first thing Albert was greeted to when he entered the front door to his apartment he shared with Race was their cat, Fishy, rubbing up against Albert’s legs. It was an interesting name to give a cat, and it was definitely a joke Race had stolen from the stage adaptation of Waitress, but the little guy seemed to love the name. So it stuck.

“Hi Fishy,” Albert kneeled down to scratch behind the cat’s ears gently. “Where’s your papa?” He asked, getting a purr in response. Albert checked his phone to see a text from Race, saying he had to go out and help Jack with an unspecified project - which kind of worried Albert, but not to the point he should be - and would be back with dinner in a couple of hours.

That left Albert to himself. Well, himself and Fishy. He didn’t do anything special during his time alone. Just put on an episode of The Good Place and played with his cat.

Soon enough, Race came home with dinner, The two rarely actually ate out, both opting to eat actual meals together. But tonight, neither of them had the time to get up and cook - so rice and dumplings made a good substitute.

“Jack wouldn’t stop calling me to help him with this top-secret project for Davey and he annoyed me enough I gave in.” Race rolled his eyes as he recalled the reason he left. “I swear ever since they got engaged Jack has talked more about Davey.”

“Well, do you think that’s going to change once they actually tie the knot?” Albert took out two plates from the cabinet and set them on the table.

“Don’t know, but he’s still gonna annoy the hell out of me. Even if he’s my best friend.” Race fed a tiny bit of rice out for Fishy - which was, fortunately, one of the things they were a hundred percent sure she could eat. Regarding Jack and Davey, they, despite being the second-worst couple to get their shit together, had gotten engaged 2 months ago and become the first couple in their friend group to do so. Jack was Race’s best friend, so of course, he was excited for him and Davey, but he was also annoyed. So so annoyed.

The two spent most of the meal enjoying each other's company. Race took up the opportunity to talk about his job as an astrologer, which Albert didn’t really know anything about, but still loved when Race talked about it, and Albert spent the whole time listening to his boyfriend and just adoring the boy in front of him. As the conversation drifted from stars to life back on the ground, however, Albert’s homesickness started to creep up on him again. Race must’ve noticed because he didn’t push Albert to talk and opted out of talking about everyday life. Soon the conversation became a comfortable silence between the two. Just them. No talk about work, no talk about life. Just them.

"Do you ever just get tired of the busy life in the city?” Albert said suddenly, looking up from his plate. “Like, do you ever want to get out?”

“Well, I’ve never thought about actually leaving.” Race admitted. The idea of leaving was intriguing once he thought about it. But Manhattan was home, he couldn’t leave all that as much as he wanted to. That’s the reason Jack didn’t move to Santa Fe out of college and was now getting married to Davey in New York. Family had a strong tie. “Manhattan has always been home for me.”

“I’m not saying we should move away from family, I’d never make you do that if you don’t want to,” Albert assured. “I’m just saying, do you ever just - want to get out of the city? Even if it’s just for a day?”

“I mean- I guess.” The blond set his fork down before standing up and taking his plate into the kitchen. “I’d love to see what life is like outside of a major city, someday. And you’re bound to miss home at some point, so I’d be open to going with you if you’d ever think about going back.”

Wow. Well, Albert was worrying over nothing.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the world, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.” Race smirked. God damn. Why was this man so amazing? And amazingly sarcastic? “Seriously though, if that’s what you want, I’m down. I’ve never been out of New York and cities close by, so getting the chance to travel with you is something I’d be down for.”

Albert chuckled. “At this point, we need to take you to every state.”

“Why don’t we do it now?” Race suggested, setting his plate in the sink.

Albert snorted. “Yeah, let’s do it,” It took a second for him to realize what Race really meant. “Wait Tony are you serious?”

"Hell yeah! Let's just - travel the country!" Race turned around to Albert. "We can get a rental car to visit the connective states or whatever shit it's called we can buy plane tickets to go to the last two states and it'll take like what? A month at most? Let's do it, baby."

"I meant traveling the country as a joke, T,”

“I know, but honestly, Al,” Race walked over to the table, placing a hand on Albert’s cheek. “We’re young and stupid. It’s arguably the best time to do something like this.”

Now that he thought about it, Race was the perfect one to travel the country with. As dramatic and annoying Race was even when driving from Manhattan to Brooklyn, Albert would drop anything to be with the blond. And they were young and stupid, just like Race said. If down the road they got married and had kids, having the chance to do this - which with the help of amazing friends, they wouldn’t have to worry about their apartment or Fishy (as much as they would probably want to take her) - would be now. He wanted to do this with Race so bad. But there was still that part nagging at him. Something that stopped him from throwing caution to the wind and doing this with Race.

“Can I think about it?” Albert tried not to feel guilty when Race nodded silently. But he just needed a minute. A minute to reassure himself. Just a minute.

The rest of the night, Albert kept thinking about what Race said. He was definitely down for the idea, but some part of him was fairly hesitant. Hesitant that sometime on the trip Race may realize that he and Albert would probably not work out long term. Hesitant that

When he was comfortably sleeping in Race’s arms, Albert realized he had definitely lucked out with the boy. To have someone who not only understood Albert missed his home but also was down to get up and travel the country with him. In his few serious relationships he’d had, Albert had never come close to someone as lovable as Race. Sure, he still was worried about the possibility that Race would realize he may not want to make this a long-term thing but Finch was right. It’s been five years, and here they still were.

And if Albert was being honest, he’d be more than happy to travel the world with Race if he asked.

“You know what? Let’s do it.” Albert broke the silence. “Let’s go travel the country.” The redhead turned to Race, who grinned sleepily.

“I knew you’d say yes.” Race laughed quietly.

“Yeah, right.”

_______________________

They hadn’t finalized the idea of going across the country that night. Of course they hadn’t made the decision in one night. Traveling to all the states in the country took lots of planning - even for the most impulsive couple on the planet. First of all, they needed some form of transportation. Both Albert and Race had driver’s licenses - even if the idea of Race having a legal document allowing him to be on the road was terrifying - sure, but they favored using public transportation or just walking to get around. Luckily, New York has numerous car rentals. Second, this trip was going to be expensive. Really expensive.

That’s what they were discussing now. It was nearly one am and probably not the best time to be discussing where a huge amount of their finances will go but nevertheless, here they were. Discussing money over microwaveable pies in the middle of the night.

“What about where we sleep?” Race asked, throwing away the box for the pie in the recycling before shoving half the pastry in his mouth “Should we set aside a chunk of money to stay somewhere occasionally?” He asked between chewing.

Albert drew out a breath before rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know, hotels are expensive and motels are shady. For the sake of our wallets and safety, we can sacrifice a month of comfortable sleeping and we can sleep in our car."

“Motels aren't shady." Race rolled his eyes, setting the other half of the pie on a plastic plate.

"Yes, they are."

"You just don't want the extra excitement."

"I don't want to get murdered."

"Okay, okay valid point," Race finished off the pie. "I'm going to bed."

Albert let out a hum of acknowledgment. “I love you, Racer.”

“I love you too.” Race kissed Albert’s cheek. “Don’t stay up too long though. We may be prone to pulling all-nighters but doing math isn’t the best at one am, and this is coming from a math whiz.”

“Shut up I hate you.” Albert pushed Race jokingly, a smile forming on his face.

“You love me.”

Yeah. He really did. He really really did.

___________________________________

It only took a week or so to get everything in order to hit the road. It's honestly crazy how fast the most spontaneous couple in their friend group put so much thought into a trip. At least it was a crazy thing to Davey, who somehow found himself helping his friends load up a rental van to travel the country.

Traveling the country was not for Davey. For his boyfriend - no fiancé. He and Jack were engaged. For his fiancé, the idea would be sold. A trip around the country was probably high on Jack's bucket list. The idiot was almost as impulsive as Race and Albert. But for Davey, not so much. He loved traveling, sure. But that's something he wanted to do after he got married. Not on a whim in the middle of June.

But his preferences aside, here he was on a Saturday morning, helping Albert and Race pack up a rental van for their trip to visit 49 states. That and get their apartment key so he could be in charge of watching their house and cat for upwards of a month.

“Are they really taking five different blankets?” Jack’s voice interrupted his thoughts, holding a clump of said blankets. “It’s the middle of summer.”

“Different climates, Jackie.” Davey kissed his fiance's cheek before taking a box full of very unhealthy snacks to the car. He definitely was friends with some of the most impulsive people ever, it seemed.

Outside, Race set his duffle bag into the trunk. Well, one of his duffle bags. Davey might’ve rubbed off on him a little and he ended up overpacking a little. Granted, they didn’t know how long this trip was going to take in days, but he was pretty sure 4 duffle bags was a little extreme. Still, it’s not like he really cared.

“Seriously," Albert said, "One or two was enough."

"I'm sorry I wear more than sleeveless shirts and snapbacks."

"How about three?" Albert ignored Race's comment and took out two of his duffle bags, despite the disapproval whine Race let out. "We can always wash clothes."

"Whatever."

Jack eventually appeared out of the apartment complex with the blankets, nearly tripping around four times, catching himself almost every time. The last time he ran into the rental car. It was kind of funny to Race. Jack glared at the blond's snicker, causing Race to smile innocently.

Soon, Davey came out with the rest of the stuff they really needed plus a backpack that the nurturing side of him probably put together. He made a switch of giving Albert the snacks and Race the bag that included chargers, a list of numbers in the event they needed to contact someone without having their cell phones, a book or two, water bottles, and actually healthy snacks. He really was the mom friend. Race gave him a key to the apartment and Albert snuck him a short list of what to do with Fishy that only consisted of 'remember to clean her food & water bowl' and 'she has sharp claws. Race was supposed to take her to get them cut but he didn't so sorry about that'. Race and Albert said goodbye to Fishy and then to Jack and Davey.

And then, they were in the car. Ready to go on a trip across the country.

“Holy shit. We’re doing this.” Race breathed, buckling his seatbelt.

“We’re doing this,” Albert repeated.

They were actually doing this.

#newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #newsies fanfiction #audrey writes #I'm so proud of this yet so nervous at the same time #Ralbert road trip #tw abuse #javid #javey #david jacobs #davey jacobs #jack kelly #finch cortez #long roads au

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mbti-notes · 4 years

Text

Anon wrote: Hi, I hope you're doing great, so this is going to be long because I’m really in need for help. I’m an INFJ, raised by an abusive passive aggressive father and an INFJ mother who was mistreated and abused a lot, my Fe was very underdeveloped and I used to be a funny guy without having self-care for my image, now after having a crush and seeing my blind spots I see that my reputation isn’t the best and people take advantage of me, I have good friends but none I chose deliberately, I also used to be bullied at middle school and this is where my Se Grip I guess, my Fe is being developed and I’m reading about emotional intelligence but I’m still naïve and ignore subtle signs that other people are using me, and I always fall for the same trap although I have set goals, but I don’t know how to respect myself, I dwell in my mistakes, I can’t respect time and can’t take life seriously.

I guess it is somewhat of trauma response like Chandler from friends, I try to be funny even when people disrespect me, my crush had a boyfriend who treated me passive aggressively and bullied me, at that time I wanted to give a response but I couldn’t, in each situation I felt trapped, I felt unable to react, I felt under threat, my heart is weak and I get these small anxiety attacks, I’m anxious about getting out in the world, each time I’m overwhelmed with tasks I feel guilty and not being able to finish them, to give more context, I became responsible of my family two years ago, and this feels like a burden, and suddenly Fe started developing, I have religious background and was part of a religious group but now I’m no longer that person and I don’t feel belonging anywhere, I tried to fit In different groups but none felt real, my friends don’t have the time for me and I became very cynical of death and my experiences to the point that I share everything about myself, I’m too clingy, and I overshare everything as a defense mechanism which started after developing feeling towards my crush and telling a friend about it. I need a friend to walk properly on the streets, my self confidence is no longer part of myself because I’m having an identity crisis, I feel guilty and see all my mistakes and each time something triggers one of those mistakes I feel even more anxious, I’m trying to get out more but with no use.

I’m trying to rebuild myself by focusing on my goals, but its not enough, I guess I need hibernating time in my home to build better work skills and focus on my job more. My friends do not see what I see, except for an INTP, but he is unreliable for social situations but sometimes gives advice that I disagree with and I follow because I respect him a lot, he is like a brother, but his social tips led me to disastrous things, I’m not complaining, but I’m seeking to understand my own behavior. I have shared some of my experiences on social media, and then deleted them, some people used that to mock me and cyber bully me, I don’t know how to get over feeling exposed, I want to live, but not that interested, yet I’m not suicidal, in fact I’m rational and have some basic understanding of myself, but I want to move on from that, and I keep making social mistakes

___________________________

To summarize: You are lost because you have not been able to respect yourself and balance your own needs with your obligations to the world - a sign of Fe overindulgence. Lack of proper self-care has produced unhappiness, but you have not chosen the right paths to remedying the unhappiness, which only makes it worse. Then you got trapped in Ti loop rumination, trying to "make sense" of your feelings from a distance, exacerbating emotional dysfunction. All you have now is a head full of negative and anxious intrusive thoughts that worsen as your emotions are left to escalate unresolved. When you lose connection to Ni, you lose the ability for nuanced thinking, so your thoughts become more and more extreme, as Se grip sets in. Is that about right?

You shouldn't blame yourself for other people's bad behavior. Trust is required for healthy relationships. It is not your fault for trusting people, rather, it is their fault for betraying your trust. No one should take advantage of your kindness and vulnerability. It is not a crime to love and you should not feel ashamed about having emotional needs. If you are ashamed of needing love, then you may have a self-worth problem. Do you believe that you are deserving of love?

Ni development is meant to help you fulfill your personal potential, such that you have something to feel proud of and something to contribute. The dominant function is the ideal route to self-respect. When you don't have yourself and your life in order via healthy Ni development, you won't be able to have healthy relationships for developing Fe. When you approach relationships from a place of desperation, you not only end up using people as a means to fill your deficits, you also make it too easy for people to take advantage of you.

It’s not your fault when people mistreat you, but it is your responsibility to put in place some reasonable protections from exploitation and abuse, which goes back to the vital point of practicing proper self-care. This requires learning how to set healthy boundaries when you're navigating relationships or putting yourself out there in society. Not everyone has your best interests at heart. You have to know how to spot callous people and avoid them. And you have to learn to be a better judge of the right time and place to express yourself honestly.

A relationship is a two-way street. It should be mutually satisfying and mutual beneficial. This means that self-disclosure should occur at a gradual and mutually respectful pace. Only by opening up bit by bit can a relationship grow in an organic and healthy manner. A great way to protect yourself from harm is to allow enough time for people to show you who they really are. The way that you behave, often in extremes, is not conducive to gradual relationship growth. And you are often in (Se grip) extremes because your emotional life is out of control.

You didn't grow up in an environment that taught you how to have healthy relationships. That’s not your fault. But it is your responsibility to make up those lessons, as an adult who wants to live a better life than you had as a child. People aren’t born with knowledge, just like you're not born knowing how to do math. You have to learn through proper attention and study. You’ve spent how many years learning math that you may not even use? And how long have you spent learning to take care of your mental state? Few people can teach themselves math from scratch and psychology is no different. There’s a lot of knowledge and expertise required to address the psychological problems that you are describing. A big reason that psychological problems get worse over time is that people are not equipped to deal with them alone with no objective input or expert guidance to rely on.

I am but a stranger on the internet. The most I can ever do is help clarify/identify the problem and point you toward a possible solution. I can’t carry out the solution for you or with you. In order to get yourself and your life in order, you have to be more honest with yourself about how you feel, and address your feelings and emotional needs in a more compassionate and timely manner. It’s hard to care well for others when you’re not even able to care well for yourself. If you don't have anyone to lean on, then lean on professional help as a start. A cognitive-behavioral therapist can teach you how to stabilize your intrusive thoughts and messy emotional life, and from there, you will have a better time dealing with other aspects of life. A therapist can also teach you better social skills for dealing with relationship and boundary issues. If you can’t see a therapist for whatever reason, I have provided books about these topics on the resources page.

#infj #auxiliary fe #ti loop #se grip #self care #self disclosure #boundaries #ask

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bisexualbuck · 4 years

Note

The one where the 118 actually take Buck sleeping with his therapist seriously! It’s statutory rape! She was in a poster of power and therefore he felt pressured into consent

[Read on AO3]

Full story under read more (tw past sexual abuse, panic attack, self-blaming)

There are days Buck wishes he could take his brain out of his skull and wash it away of all the things that haunt him.

On days like this, he presses the palms of his head against his eyes, hard, as if it could erase the images dancing in his memory.

It doesn’t work. He sees it all.

He sees the people he has lost, the ones he couldn’t save and those who walked away.

He feels the pain from the truck crushing on his leg, the cold harsh sensation of the asphalt against his face.

He hears the rushing of the waves, taking Christopher away.

He tastes his own blood down his throat, coughing up his lungs, a phantom sensation he never shook away.

He smells her perfume. Thick, flowery – it makes him retch.

Why does he remember her perfume? Every time he smells anything like it, he wants to throw up, he wants to rush in the shower and try to wash away the stink of it.

Why can’t he move on?

He’s had sex with countless people over the years, especially back in his Buck 1.0 days, so why does that encounter remain? Why does it make him sick?

Why does he feel so ashamed?

The first person he talks to about it is Maddie.

“Therapy really is helping me,” she says. “I think it’d help you too.”

The same sick feeling that he gets every time someone mentions him going to therapy returns. He hides his hands under his legs so that his sister does not notice how much he is shaking.

“I don’t think so, Mads.”

“Come on, Buck. Everyone else goes to therapy, you don’t think it’s not helping them? You see horrible things every day, and you’ve been through so much this past year alone. You need to talk to a professional about all that.”

“No, Maddie,” he snaps. “It won’t help.”

She startles at his outburst and he bows his head down, ashamed, tired just from that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Buck. What’s going on?”

He wants to run away but this burden is so heavy and his sister has only ever wanted to help him. Maybe she will be able to tell him why he can’t forget, maybe she can tell him how to move on.

“I can’t go back to therapy,” he whispers, keeping his eyes down.

“Why?”

It’s gentle, patient. It gives him the courage to go on.

“Last time I went – ” he gulps down. Images of the last time he was in therapy surge to his mind, he closes his eyes wiling them away, uselessly.

“You can tell me anything, Evan. I’m always here.”

“I slept with my therapist.”

He doesn’t see her, but he feels her freeze. Bile rises up in his throat and he tries his best to swallow it down.

“Buck,” she breathes out.

There it comes. The disappointment. The judgment. He curls up, readying himself for it.

It never comes.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.”

He snaps his eyes back to her in shock. Sorry? What for? He does not understand, he was the one to mess up, he was the one who couldn’t control himself.

Buck, always the one to do the wrong thing, always the one to mess everything up.

“Evan, listen to me,” Maddie says, urgent, desperate but kind, always kind. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it is, I shouldn’t have – ”

“Buck, no.”

Why is he crying? Why is it so hard to breathe?

“She assaulted you.”

“No. No, that’s not what happened.”

His entire body is shaking, he can’t breathe at all anymore, he wants to run away, he wants to scratch his skin raw and forget the feel of her hands on him.

“You need to breathe, Evan. Look at me, it’s alright, I’ve got you. Breathe with me.”

It takes him the longest time to get his breathing back, and when he does, he falls into the open arms of his sister, crying the tears he never allowed himself to shed. She never lets go of him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels fully safe.

Nothing changes at first.

Maddie does not bring it up again, but she makes sure he knows that she is there for him, that she is on her side.

Assaulted.

She thinks Buck was assaulted.

The word makes his skin crawl with shame. He could have said no, he didn’t say no, he must have wanted it.

That day is a blur. He remembers crying in her office, the helplessness of watching Devon let go still clinging to him. He remembers her coming to sit next to him.

And her perfume. He could never forget her perfume.

Buck is not sure how it gets brought up.

He has spent the last few days since his confession to Maddie obsessing over it.

Assaulted.

She assaulted you.

All the emotions that he is not able to name threaten to choke him. He is losing sleep, losing himself to this whirlwind of despair, shame, anger and so much more.

Holding it in take too much of him.

One day, he breaks.

The team is together on the couch, watching a show Buck hasn’t been paying attention to. It’s a slow day, as slow as a day can be for firefighters in Los Angeles.

Buck feels restless.

He looks at his team and can’t help the thought – what would they say if they knew? Would they laugh it off, make a jest at Buck’s old sex-addict days?

Would they say the same as Maddie?

It hits him, and he can’t shake the thought away. He has to know.

“If your therapist, if you were in a therapy session,” the words don’t come easy, he has to look away from his friends, unable to hold their curious gaze. “If your therapist slept with you during a session. Would it be assault?”

There’s a pause.

“Why do you ask that, Buck?” Hen asks with such gentleness Buck feels he could shatter with it.

“Would you say that’s assault?” he repeats instead, frantic.

He is looking right at her now, terrified of her answer. Which would he rather? Is there any answer that would bring him peace?

“Yes,” she says, her eyes sad. “Yes, I would say it’s assault.”

“Oh.”

He looks down at his hands. They are shaking again, but he can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything. He is empty, emptied out by that answer.

It sounds so obvious to her. She did not even hesitate.

She assaulted you.

“Buckaroo,” Bobby tries, voice low like he is afraid Buck might flee.

He might. He wants to. It’s too heavy. He does not know what to do with this reality. He wants to laugh it off, change the subject, bury the memory deep enough that he can never reach it again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Buck shakes his head at Chim’s question. He can’t.

“We’re here for you.”

“Don’t.”

Anger. All he can feel is anger. Anger at himself for letting himself into that situation, anger at his team for being so compassionate.

Just – anger, hot and burning and red.

“It’s not possible,” he all but shouts. “I didn’t say no, I didn’t push her away. I was just there and I let it happen, and when she asked me not to tell anyone, I didn’t. This isn’t it. I – no.”

His chest is heaving with the breaths that his lungs won’t take. Hell. No. None of this can be real, this isn’t happening. This didn’t happen.

“Buck.”

Helpless, he turns to Eddie – his lifeline, his rock, his all.

“Tell me,” he begs.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Eddie, please.”

“She was in a position of power. You were vulnerable. She took advantage of you.”

A sob escapes Buck. He reaches to Eddie who reaches right back, without any hesitation.

Held close by the love of his life, surrounded by the family that he has chosen for himself, Buck lets himself grieve, at last. He lets himself cry, be vulnerable because he knows that he is safe.

Buck files a formal complaint against Dr Wells.

His testimony opens up the dam.

Twenty-three more men come forward.

Every single step of the way, Buck is supported.

Be it Maddie, or the team or Athena, Buck is shown support in more ways that he could have ever dreamed of.

But it’s Eddie who keeps him afloat. Eddie who drives him to therapy and who holds him afterwards. Eddie who calms him down from his nightmares.

Buck never thought he could be so loved one day, and now he is. Eddie and Christopher have given him what he has always wanted – a home.

It will be a long road to recovery but Buck is strong, and he is not alone.

#911 fic #911 #evan buckley #firefam #buddie #my writing #please be careful reading this #it deals with some heavy stuff though nothing is graphic #anon i hope this was to your satisfaction #i tried to do my own take on this #thank you for sending me this prompt #don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of it #i would love that!!#Anonymous

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fairycosmos · 3 years

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hi chloe im having like a little mental breakdown lol like my anxiety is so bad that i want to hide in a corner for the next 5 years. and all because i called my mom and she got slightly irritated over nothing so i just hung up on her because i started crying. aaand now i feel like a sensitive little bitch because every time she sounds even slightly mad i just shutdown or start to cry and i guess thats because when i was younger or until i moved out she yelled at me, threw things and threatened me a lot so now i cant handle that but i feel so stupid and immature about it ugh idk and ive been clean from selfharm for almost 6 months but this is really pushing me to stupid shit because that always how i handled it as a kid

angellll :( im so sorry to hear this. i know it won't actually do much to change how awful youre feeling rn but i want to sincerely say that you're NOT being overly sensitive. decades of abuse and mistreatment especially during your formative years can make it very difficult to communicate with your parents and all the blame falls on them over it, i promise. it's not easy to let go of a lifetime of having to be hyper aware of their voice tone and attitude in order to keep yourself physically and emotionally safe. i am so sorry and it is NOT your fault. youre having a very normal human reaction to being hurt. it's completely understandable if you need to have a cry and break down a little while the worst of this washes over you. let it happen, but dont try to hold onto it either. it is going to pass and i am so proud of you for getting through it. you are not stupid or immature, you're a person with feelings and you deserve better than what you've had to put up with.

i understand that self harm is addictive and can become a habit and a go-to, i totally get you. at the same time, i really want you to know that six months clean is incredibe and it definitively proves that you do NOT need to engage in it in order to cope. relapse can be a part of recovery of course, but it's so important to try and focus on the fact that you dont deserve to harm yourself over somebody elses words and actions (or at all, over anything, ever.) is there anything at all you usually do that helps you get through the urge without self harming? im talking anything - sobbing, screaming into a pillow, talking to your friends/a trusted family member, journaling, going for a walk, holding ice cubes, breathing exercises, calling a mental health hotline, watching a comfort show. i wanna make it clear that im not saying these simple tasks are solutions to your very heavy and clearly complex situation, and i dont want to undermine it in any way. theyre just little techniques that can be used to help you get through the day, or even the hour or the moment. your brain will probably try to do all it can to convince you that these things are pointless but honestly, even just removing yourself from the vicinity of potentially harmful objects and giving yourself space to breathe and recalibrate and regain perspective can do wonders. if you regularly see a therapist or a mental health professional, i really recommend letting them know what happened so you have the opportunity to talk through and process your feelings, and maybe come up with a care plan to stop this recurring at least to this extent in the future. your mam is a dickhead and you dont need anyones permission to process pain. im sending you so much love and i really hope you're able to nurse yourself through this one step at a time. take care ok x

*so sorry i can't currently tag trigger warnings but i will asap

https://www.northpointrecovery.com/blog/let-the-healing-begin-11-tips-to-overcoming-emotional-abuse/

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/self-harm/helping-yourself-now/

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 138 prt 2

“I don’t think I want to imagine that”

Mami would have rocked it. Keith imagined her sneaking her chocolates with a bottle of vodka giving the double finger to Sendak if she could have. Chocolates and her abundant supply of love were the only two things she zero self control over. Lance nodded, sucking down a breath, tone slightly dejected before levelling then growing wobbly

“Probably safer... but, yeah. I... the family gave me a lot of things that she’d left behind when we moved. I tried to go to the nursing home, you know, to thank them, but Coran made me stay in for observation. Luis cleaned her room out and took her things. He had the nerve to lose it at me for paying for her funeral...”

Lance started shaking again in his arms. Keith rubbing the top of his arm as if he was trying to warm him up

“Babe. Don’t go there. Luis isn’t your responsibility”

“I know, but without Mami... I won’t hear about them again”

That was true. Luis wouldn’t be rushing to call

“Pidge could change that. She can stalk down thin air and pull up all its credit card charges”

“I think Pidge would bite his ankles in real life if she knew. I wanted to... to be able to talk to them at the funeral, but Coran pulled enough magic to get me there as it was... and I wasn’t ready yet. She and Papi are together now. I wanted her buried in Garrison, but she’s in Platt. I’m talking too much”

Lance wasn’t talking too much. He’d held all this in as he waited for Keith to come home to him. He was glad Lance was telling him what he wanted in his own words instead of by letter

“You’re not. You miss your mum. From what you’ve said, you’ve made a lot of good memories”

“I suppose. I mean, I did. I know I’m very lucky I had all this time with her... really lucky considering all things. I wish I hadn’t broken my phone”

“Shouldn’t it back up?”

“I don’t know how it really works. It’s like one of your Blade phones but it’s pin locked instead of iris encoded. Laptop’s kind of the same. It’s a Coran special”

“We can ask him”

“I hope it’s backed up... I need to stop talking about this... I can’t... I’ve been so whiny. Even when I came back from Sendak, through to now, my mental health’s been shit and all I’ve done is worry everyone. Four months isn’t like long for a vampire but it is for a human”

“I literally think you’re entitled to let it out”

“I keep showing... I keep showing the wrong sides”

There were no wrong sides to Lance. Okay. Maybe 4 months wasn’t that long to a vampire but it was a fucking looooong arse four months. They’d barely had three weeksish before he was off to Rome... meaning... it was like 6 weeks he’d had quality time with Mami... and shy of a month since her passing.

Lance was allowed to have feelings. His feelings made him who he was. It wasn’t like Keith didn’t feel guttered over the loss of Mami too. He kind of wanted to just lock Lance away and cry until his head throbbed and the pain was gone

“Because I’m so much better?”

“You are. I haven’t asked you much about Europe. I haven’t asked if you’re okay. I haven’t asked how things went down. I haven’t asked about the court case or this thing about Lotor killing Zarkon. I... haven’t... even asked you... how anyone is...”

“Babe. I only got in last night. This is our first proper conversation. I want to know what you’re feeling and thinking”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling. Running seems so much easier. But... then there’s all the things I’m waiting to hear back about. Mami’s will. Her accounts. What to do with her things she’a got stored at home. If the nursing home got the flowers I sent as a thank you for all they did for her. If I chose the right clothes Mami. If I did the right thing. If it wasn’t her time to go and I did nothing...”

Lance kept telling himself to shut up. To stop talking about Mami. That Keith had been through so much away from him that he was probably more tired than he was letting on. He tried to shut up but he couldn’t not think about Mami. She’d adored Keith. She kept a photo of him on her nightstand. Well, it was him, Keith and an ultrasound photo between them.

When Keith started leading him away from the kitchen, Lance didn’t want to move. He had to have breakfast, have his shot, then have something actual to eat. Instead Keith tugged him along, pulling him down to sit in his lap on the sofa. That Keith had come back was a miracle. That he’d stayed... Lance couldn’t describe how much he’d needed to see Keith. Then he went and ruined things because he couldn’t stop thinking about his Mami...

“You’re overthinking”

Geez. No shit. He’d expected a joyous reunion with Keith. Mami teasing them. Not Keith coming home to this. He wanted to feel happy so badly, but Keith... Keith made it too easy. He’d feared last night they’d never talk again as they had. Now he’d word vomit... after too much actual vomit

“I think I’m... not being strong enough”

He’d cried as he confessed his sins to his Mami. How he’d killed Sendak. His Mami taking his hands and telling him that it wasn’t fair for him to be blaming himself. She went to church with him. Before God he’d prayed. He’d confessed everything, as if it’d offer some absolution for his sins. He did feel marginally better when he didn’t burst into flames. It was hard to accept that the world was safer by taking a life. Mami pointing out that Sendak was the worst of everything a vampire could be, though she got it. She got that he grieved not for the monster he’d killed but at the loss of Sendak ever changing his ways. Vampires didn’t really work that way, but she... she got it because she wasn’t a hunter. She could see that he was worse than Nyma and Rolo, but she could see that he felt worse about the actual ending of potential than killing the monster inside Sendak’s skin. She was a better therapist than Coran.

They’d headed to the beach that morning, after his nightmare. Blazing hot sun didn’t exactly lure vampires out for a spot of sun baking and spontaneous combustion between snacking on the necks of tourists. Setting up the umbrella, chairs and fetching drinks, they’d settled down and Mami had told him about his first time swimming there. Rachel carried him everywhere. Made him a “hat” out of seaweed. He’d screamed and screamed, until Mami took it off his head. The sun had felt amazing. He wasn’t too pregnant looking, so he enjoyed taking his shirt off, only to burn himself for his efforts. Mami had laughed at him as she rubbed aloe vera on his sunburn.

It’d been hard to hear about times when they’d been so happy together. Just kids doing kid things. But a lot of Mami’s stories he hadn’t heard before, and some stories he heard over and over yet didn’t mind in the slightest. She was so proud of her brood. Making all these future plans and laughing over how he and Keith were going to be clumsy parents, but that was okay because no one knew what they were doing at first.

“You’re strong. You’re so strong”

Keith kissed his cheek. Lance knew he was starved of physical affection. He knew because he’d been depriving himself of it. He felt like “King Douche” that his boyfriend came back to this. That he needed to stiffen his upper lip and carry on. He knew he’d been a total dick not contacting Pidge or Hunk, but to begin with it’d been for their safety. He hadn’t let them see him at VOLTRON, though knowing they were also grieving Mami’s loss. Asking for more space on top of so much space already granted to him seemed incredibly selfish. He loved Pidge and Hunk, but it was like with Sendak again, he was scared of losing himself in his grief and hurting them.

He’d never wished he was more human than in the aftermath of that shit with Sendak. Lance knew if it was his friends going through this he’d be telling them it was okay. To let go. To grieve for as long as they needed and that he’d be there the whole time for when they were ready. But that didn’t apply to him. He had... he had o carry himself a certain way... anxiety fed paranoia that if he wasn’t the perfect friend they’d never speak to him again. Keith... Keith just... all he had to do was breathe and Lance was falling more in love with him. He’s tried building his walls back up when he set his mind to Keith never coming for him, but all his walls were sandcastles, crumbling under Keith’s feet as he trampled over Lance’s attempts and wrapped him up in love. He... he’d been so awkward and embarrassed how easily he’d caved into Keith. Now Keith was taking the time to fix his broken bits. His boyfriend hated the tourist masses but that was Varadero’s main source of income.

Placing his hand on his belly, Lance settled his breathing back down slowly. Keith didn’t hate his belly. He’d felt their twins starting to move. Like little has bubbly gas bubbles. When he’d spotted blood coupled with weird stomach pain, he’d thought he was dying but his Mami explained to him about things stretching and moving to make space. Coran was worried about his body not being strong enough to make it to term. Despite brewing in a vampire filled with vampire blood, both their kids returned human DNA. Never did he want another long arse needle in there again. Their babies passed their genetics tests. They just had to put up with him and Keith now

“Babe?”

“It’s okay. You said you wanted to see Cuba?”

“Well I came all this way. I’ve never been here before and I’m already madly in love with my tour guide”

Lance groaned at his boyfriend. If Keith turned that charm on everyone he’d probably be an unstoppable conman of the highest degree. His ego loved the flattery. He and it had many an mental disagreement. Now Keith was fanning it back to life

“You’re a menace. I have to eat. I’ve... been going through the motions but I have to eat before we go out. And... we’ll drive. I’ll drive. I don’t have much to hide this bump”

“I don’t mind it. I think it’s cute”

“The world isn’t ready for a pregnant vampire and his lover. This is Cuba. I’ve got a jumper I use if I absolutely can’t avoid going out...”

“In this heat?”

“You get the boyfriend with a covered outside or you get the boyfriend inside with the bump showing. You can’t have both”

“I definitely want both. I love your stomach. You looked so good bouncing on my dick with that bump showing”

Lance choked on air. Keith was a damn horn dog!

“I’m going to punch you in the dick if you don’t start thinking things through. I’m going to put you in “Horny Hunter Jail” if you don’t settle down”

Keith shrugged

“I can live with that”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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