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resmarted · 6 months

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haven't been on psych meds all week due to liver failure and emergency intervention to reverse the effects of the damage from trying to replace covid meds with tylenol (even those also give you liver damage apparently and my tylenol levels didn't even appear to be that high in the end? tf?)

have already been on the brink of tears a few times, namely when chris didn't pull my show and said he knew my ability to bounce back in time. i can't even talk about it i will start sobbing it's like the most moving thing anyone has said to me in so long.

was also considering going down on these meds already and wanted to taper off to see how i manage. i have been on a steady combo of anxiety and depression meds since i was 22. i was very exhausted from being the funny girl in every setting to the point where every coworker at whole foods would want to know what was wrong the second i stopped smiling or goofing off. the expectation of me and the sad jester complex that came along with it for years got to be too much. i also felt like i had turned it into a full time job making everyone else around me comfortable which somehow evolved into being an emotional dumping ground for everyone to lay their own issues out onto, whether we knew each other or not. i genuinely care for people but there is a fine line between being nonconsensually assigned at random to become someone's free therapist and being this hardened bitch for setting boundaries and not engaging in the people-pleasing techniques of culturally fetishized support group mentality. or something idk how to explain it but i decided at some point it was much safer to just be seen as a bitch than a free vent box for other people who refuse to get on their own meds or proper treatment plans with licensed professionals etc. people tend to see that you have been through a lot and therefore you have all the answers to get them through their stuff, but it took a lot or work and therapy and is an ongoing process. it's actually really insulting and extremely lacking in self-awareness to make your problems everyone else's around you and being the only somewhat healed person in a room makes you a magnet to people who want to feel better too without doing the work. people don't deserve to be victim to your emotional outbursts or of your vampiric tendencies.

that being said, not to be anye-kay but i was a much more prolific writer and a lot of my best art has been created from the depths of hellish experiences and times in my life. suppressing my feelings about the world and not pouring it into my art is not very cash money of me. also tho the best art is made during the winter and the worst time to go off meds is also during this time, generally for the same reasons. also i think it's generally a lame excuse to say you can't make art with or without drugs. it may be easier one way or the other, but it's likely a discipline or skill issue. like maybe you're just a shitty artist and drugs is an easy way to avoid taking that accountability.

the mental health system is so fucked the regular health system is so fucked the living wage is fucked all of our money is being funneled directly into war and genocide and i just feel like numbing myself any further in this moment of revolutionary history is not the way to exist right now.

THAT being said i fucking HATE how people act off their meds, how they unleash their shit onto you with such audacious entitlement, and ultimately this world is designed to make you feel crazy, so if you can control your emotions in an act of survival then why wouldn't you? but also i am an artist, doggg.

i know how i get when i go off them for too long, how unsavory comments become, even when they are people i know disguising themselves as randos, and fortunately i have had enough experience to know how cruel and demented people get in groups on line (or in general) and have learned to genuinely not go looking for it after years or exposure tharapy alone. the second i get the slightest inkling we are not on the same team, you're out. no questions asked. like i could truly give a fuck what your excuse for your behavior you will or won't admit to, i have enough weirdo fucking stalkers online as it is and have for decades now. if you even have one of those people within six degrees or your social circle you're already on thin ice to begin with. i did not spend nearly forty years surviving this insane fucking life to go backwards. i don't attach myself to people with shitty karma, even if it's just by proxy of their friends of friends. if you want to survive cut-throat environments, you have to be willing to be called the bitch and the crazy one and whatever else will be thrown at you for refusing to adhere to a mold of low vibe mediocrity. you have to treat your social circle like an ongoing audition process that is never fully locked into place and be totally fine with whether or not people will get it (they won't, esp as a woman you will get thrown all those demonic labels and then some) it feels weird in the early days but eventually living in truth and integrity becomes second nature, and the revolving door of people who do and do not make it back for the following seasons of both your community environment of choice or your life in its most personal form always speaks for itself.

people play with fire expecting not to get burnt, play stupid games to win stupid prizes, despite how it ends the same each time etc etc etc.

say it with me: slow and steady wins the race. that falls on deaf ears attached to people trying to be the loudest in the room, but people only like fast food for so long and everyone agrees what quality is at the end of the day. you don't just get that overnight through overexertion and speed racing your way into a burnout. not everyone is meant to play this game according to the arbitrary set of rules on a constantly evolving and everchanging landscape.

this post was mostly for me btw. everything i do in this world is generally just for me. another great example of gaining a following by going against all the made up rules to a made up game that we are all just making up as we go along. [fiona apple 1997 vma voice] this world is bullshit just go with yourself

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olive-is-a-jim · 1 year

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vent below.

i look back and think of all the people on here i used to be close and/or friendly with.

I look at a list of deactivated blogs or changed urls and i feel confused, lost in the supermarket again.

There's people I still follow who still reblog my stuff. I don't know how you have changed over the years and yet i feel guilty.

I try to look for the old messages but clicking one closes the stupid tumblr messaging button each time and i can't just easily scroll down.

I think the most about who i was back in 2017-2018. And what I think of "her"... I hate the most.

I had good friends. Good prospects. A horrible path. A downward spiral. A fragile psyche.

I was a fucking basket case who was in "her" early teens. I thought I was tough shit. I was growing more and more detached from my life.

And I miss those I'd then call friends. And I feel bad for all the perfectly good people I should have not bothered. All because I was young and stupid and crazy.

One fateful day it all snapped. Nothing life-threatening happened, I just shaved my head but it was enough apparently. I wiped my old phone and all the art and texts and memories from old friends who were getting tired of my spiraling and neediness and drama and emotions and

On the 31st of January 2019 i was checked into a small mental institution and ended up staying there for 4 months, being released only a few weeks before my 15th birthday.

I was there voluntarily in terms of what was written down but. It still was hell. A silent hell. One where you're told to see things positively and not talk about your pains to peers. One where you're almost gaslit into thinking you're not ready yet.

And I wasn't, in all honesty. But that doesn't mean I came back better. I came back with different problems. And it was like that for a while.

A lot of other stuff is foggy, mostly because it was just. life? that or it's the trauma-blocking from just. everything. I knew I couldn't make a month without crying from either guilt, getting in trouble, random other shit that'd make me cry, or the general cycle of falling apart and putting myself back together.

Things did turn around when my family moved out of our old town an into the city. A new school, new set of IRL friends that soon spread out into new digital friends. I had new hobbies, new passions, new room, new problems.

school still sucked I'd struggle getting grades good again, and it was a new set of pressures and meltdowns and panics and

I had support systems, people who would work with me on these sorts of things, designated adults and whatnot. It was getting better but you could tell that shit was still amiss.

Thennnn the pandemic hit and everything had a new set of problems!! :)

failing "zoom school" grades, stupid hastily made websites for submitting work that took too much mental effort and more and more issues with me even having the drive to do anything productive besides art and fucking around online.

But then. I was given an option, when being told that I wouldn't make enough to graduate with a highschool diploma. a GED.

I didn't like it at first I wanted to be able to graduate. But over time I did get into a program for it. I had all the knowledge for getting it I just. Fucking sucked with standardized education and the whole homework rigmarole and blah blah blah blah blah blah

Point is, I got my GED and was able to attend the graduation ceremony with my peers at the highschool and it was everything. I made a cool design for my cap (i cannot recall if I posted it I highly doubt I did).

I also started (and am still doing) courses for transitionary education, basically seminars and stuff for things to help young adults with "alternate education paths" get jobs and be able to have resources to live independently some day.

It's good. I like it. And I've grown so much.

I grow incrementally rather than a steady and ever constant line, and those increments can have horrible spiraling chasms between them and those increments can suddenly bring me to functionally being a different person in many regards although not literally.

This all seems good here these last few paragraphs but. There are new problems and because it's all so recent in comparison I.

Somehow

Have trouble thinking about it. Like getting it to even appear in the forefront of my mind. But maybe I'm trying to look too big picture on my issues. Maybe my mind is just foggy forever. Maybe I'm just not

Actually fuck that noise. I am myself in this moment writing this dumb post and crying my eyes out surrounded by 3 cats. I am crying for my past, tearing up about what I have now, and weeping for the future like everyone else does.

I miss my friends and there's some I know I won't be able to have back. But I'm not going on a wild goose chase for people who might have simply just deleted their blogs and made new ones, or people who just don't remember or want to talk to me or whatever valid reason. I have the ones that I do know, ones I've gained and reforged over the last 4 years, and ones I've made recently.

I have people I'm no longer friends with and I'm, surprise surprise old me, okay with it.

One of my biggest faults was abandonment issues and the varying chance of falling apart in front of someone IRL or over text. They can still be my faults at times in the present but. I have newer, more independent ways to deal with myself before anyone else has to. And also by the very benefit of being a future version of myself, I'm just.

Better at this living sort of thing than I was.

I'm 18. I'm Miki. I feel alive. I'm ready to catch back up with people, if they so choose.

And as always...

#vent #positive vent #at the end #it's more of a long letter to nobody #and more of a documentation of what my foggy head *can* recall in one sitting as well as just a strange slam poem #i miss you all #i miss our friendships or even just friendly acquaintancehoods #i don't necessarily miss who i was then #but it still pains me that there's a good list of people i have no way of contacting again even just to say ‟I hope you're doing well‟#note: most of the tags above were written at the start of the post #as i tend to write these *as* the process of releasing my emotions #so by the end I'm already feeling that juicy catharsis y'know?#seeya 'round

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iwasntfree · 2 years

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i was around 6 when a distant relative approached me (not actually sure if she was a relative i was distantly connected to by marriage or just a neighbor we were very familiar with, either one of those) with nobody around and asked me what i wanted to be when i grew up. well i was really embarrassingly obsessed with this one book series where the protagonist is a writer, so i said writer, and she told me i couldn't do that because being a writer isn't a steady job and that was what i needed. a fun fact about me is that i'm an only child. she said i wouldn't be able to support my mother if i wasn't constantly bringing in money, and i was the only person she would be able to depend on once she got old because i have no siblings.

that was the first time it sank in that i was very, very alone — not just because i didn't have any siblings to share the burden with, but also because i had no one to talk to who would understand my realization about the weight that was already on my shoulders since i was born. all my friends were better off than me: had both parents, generally wealthier, or didn't depend on extended family, etc. and i was never very conscious about not having any brothers or sisters like some of my friends, but at that moment i wished for some, if only for someone else to commiserate with.

and i felt very much like i had just been humiliated somehow, even though nobody was around to hear what she told me. like i had been caught daydreaming and she'd snapped me out of it. i think i was generally aware that the world wasn't as easy to move around in as i thought, but she hammered that idea in. i never thought there were limits to how the question "what do you want to be when you grow up?" could be answered, and she revealed that there were limits, for me, because of my life circumstances. even then, i knew it was an injustice, but there was no one i could go to in order to correct it. how could i possibly relieve myself of the responsibility that came out with me from the womb? it might as well be a part of me, like an extra limb, except a limb can be removed by surgery. there's no such surgery for this. fuck that's such a trite comparison. whatever.

i was pissed off, i won't lie. i was a prideful little shit who didn't like being told there were things i couldn't do or things i was wrong about, and i still am, but i'm also a very good listener and i sat through the whole lecture, and i spent the rest of the day pretending i didn't just get told i had been carrying around a noose i'd have to hang myself from, basically. that's what it felt like to me, anyway. i don't remember if i also realized back then that i'd be unhappy for the rest of my life because of this realization — that there were things i could never be because of who i was — but i was capable enough of rationality to realize that this was something terrible and very callous that my mother had done to me. i'll always resent her for that, i think, for as long as i live.

i tried to forget about it and did so very successfully for a few years, but recently i've been very aware of my noose. the way i see it, i have only a very short window to slip out of it — make enough money to support my mother then spend the rest of my life as a wage slave to support myself when i'm older in turn — and i can hear the clock ticking down on me, so to speak. my mother had me a bit late in life so i'm personally a bit astounded at her temporary stupidity or naivety in letting me live, but whatever, what's done is done. it's just that when i look around me, everyone else is going to be able to shrug off their noose soon. it's making me uncomfortable, like everyone knows something i don't, or is doing something i can't. horrible fucking feeling.

i don't like sleeping at night nowadays, and part of the reason is that im absolutely terrified my mother will die beside me while i'm unaware of it, and i'd wake up without something to justify my own existence. it's a bit paranoid, i know, and my reasoning is admittedly kind of hilarious, but it's a very real fear. i used to sleep alright even with this fear, but i'm on edge these days. when she goes out without me i'm afraid she won't come back because there's been some accident that she didn't survive. (my cousin died days before i turned 10 in a stupid car accident that could've easily been avoided so i know all about how impossible things never happen to you until they happen to you.) without her i think i'd just stop, and i don't mean that in a sweet way, or anything like that. i've been directionless for as long as i can remember (i was a bit afraid of caring too much about anything in case i would never be able to actually pursue it), and it was only her prodding that got me to where i am, and where i am isn't even all that impressive. and i'm really tired of all this to be honest

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aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide · 3 years

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Spoilers: Law & Order: Conviction (2006), Lead, Ripped, Venom, Fault, Informed, Infiltrated, Philadelphia, Florida, Screwed, Paternity, Inconceivable, Undercover, PTSD, Perverted

Trigger warnings: alcohol, references to death, casual sex, murder, pregnancy, childlessness, adoption, PTSD, nightmares, dissociation

Evocations: XIX

If there is only one thing to know, it is this: The woman who exited Witness Protection in 2006 was not the woman who had once been the sharpest Special Victims Unit ADA in New York.

The death of Valez and the extradition of Connors that had permitted her freedom from anonymity also left Alexandra with a life bitten ragged around the edges. Her relationship with her father was never the same; as grateful as he was that his daughter was alive and well, the knowledge that Darcie had gone to her grave thinking Alex was dead was a deep scar to bear.

Everywhere she looked, there was a life she had begun building and then abandoned like a child grown bored of a toy. In Wisconsin, there had been Greg, in her second placement, another man left behind like Alex was some mythical creature they outgrew as they slumbered.

Only men, however - never another woman. It was an edict that had written itself beneath Alex's skin, without deliberation or protest.

She returned to Manhattan without much thought as to whether it was the best idea. It was where she had started her career, so logically it was where she had a professional reputation; not many strings had to be pulled to get herself up and running again. Bureau Chief Cabot had a fine ring to it, even if she did have to supervise a group of newbies chomping at the proverbial bit.

But make no mistake - it was as far from SVU as Alex could get. The soft, hopeful blonde that had dreamed of a life with Olivia Benson, who had grown up privileged and hungry for everything she could get from the world was no more. The Alexandra who resettled in Manhattan was buttoned-up, distrustful, and in it for the win rather than the moral high ground.

The new Alexandra was a woman who used sex to satisfy her need for contact and not much more; who chose her relationships for ease of placement, not depth. When she got lonely she had flings, and when one of those flings turned into an engagement, Alex shrugged and kept up appearances.

She had been Bureau Chief a little over a year when the phone calls started coming. The number she didn't recognize, but the voice on the message had turned her insides into a hot, riotous mix of desire and anxiety.

"Uh hi . . . Alex. It's Li - Olivia. I'd heard you've been back, so I wanted to call and see if you . . . how things are going. Call me back . . . if you want, y'know. You can use this number. Bye."

Olivia's voice on that first message was hesitant, nervous, fumbling. Alex heard all of the unspoken questions holding space between the carefully chosen words: How long have you been avoiding me? Are you okay? Have you forgotten me? Alex let the message sit for a week before deleting it in a moment of weakness, locked in her office drinking bourbon and letting her fingers dance over the phone receiver in entertainment of the idea of calling Liv back.

The second message appeared about two weeks after that.

"Alex," it began, and the put-on confidence made the blonde wonder if Olivia was drinking that time, herself. "Please just give me a call and let me know you're okay. I'm not looking to impose myself on your life."

As cold as it seemed . . . as it probably was, Alexandra still didn't pick up the phone. The illusionary distance that was still between herself and Liv was the only barrier that held firm her new persona. The Alex who didn't want to feel, didn't want to get too close to anything - not people, jobs or cases.

Next it was Elliot who called. Alex had wondered if they were still sleeping together as she listened to Elliot's low voice skirt the boundary of anger and pleading. Had Olivia asked him to call, or had he called on his own after a couple months of watching Liv gaze hungrily at the phone?

Either way, Alex still wasn't swayed. Her career as Bureau Chief ADA plodded forward, and the only time she spoke with Olivia was in her dreams. Another year passed that way, with the calls coming less and less often. Alexandra ended her engagement along the way - an act of mercy, she told herself.

Then another year, until at last she had been out of Witness Protection for three. She couldn't have known that the next time the phone would ring, it would be Jack McCoy. He, too, was asking her to walk directly back into Olivia Benson's orbit - just not for the same reasons.

On the morning that Alex had left her for a second time, Olivia rose and for just the briefest moment thought that maybe things would be easier. She was quick to realize that, like a slip in quitting any addiction that consumes you, giving her up a second time would be even harder.

Liv put her heart into the work, and bit by bit, the year started to pass.

Then, on a cool evening in October, Olivia opened up her apartment door to find Elliot on the other side, eyes red-rimmed and temples pounding. Just hours before, he had attacked a man for abusing their son. She had no idea where El had disappeared to after that.

Liv hadn't yet had the need to seek out the weight and intensity of Elliot's body since her night with Alex. It had been at least seven months since they had slept together - but she secretly doubted it would ever make a difference. They fit together like two halves of a whole when it came to seeking out this sort of comfort. Soon, they were once again sleeping together as a means to dull the sharp edges of their pain.

The first year that Alexandra was back in Manhattan was such a whirlwind for Olivia that she couldn't have contacted her even if she had been aware of the ADA's presence. Right on the heels of discovering Finn's son had a half-brother that was a murderer, there was the Gitano case - the aftershocks of which were felt long into 2007.

"What about me?" she had murmured to Elliot, but it wasn't their falling into bed together she thought of - it was bigger than that.

She had already lost the love of her life twice over. Elliot was the only solid, steady thing left - the person she could trust, talk to or fuck easily, in equal measure. He kept Olivia anchored in a life where everything else seemed unmoored. If the threat was for that, too, to be taken away then Olivia would do it herself, and first: self-punishment as self-control.

In Oregon, sneaking around in the Hartnells' house, Liv wondered if Alex'd had as much trouble staying within the lines of her new life, back in Wisconsin. Perhaps Olivia was destined only for a singular life, no matter where else events lead her, because that singular life was right where she landed back in the city in 2007.

Right before she took off to Philadelphia, seeking out the brother that was no more than a DNA fingerprint, Liv had finally picked up the phone to call Alex - hoping, in part, that Alex would try to talk her out of it.

The phone never rang.

Philadelphia was a disaster.

Olivia's brother, a fugitive and maybe a rapist, was gone. She was drinking more frequently again, and rage-fucking her partner at every turn. Elliot's concern got him calling after the aloof blonde next, but she remained unmoved.

Summer began to bleed into Fall. Finn's nephew got away with murder, Liv's brother was innocent after all, and, after taking more than two years to sign his divorce papers, Elliot found himself back home with Kathy.

Not prime parent material.

The phrase went around and around in her head after the meeting with the adoption agency. After Olivia first absorbed the news that Kathy was pregnant, she had moved quickly from surprise, to confusion, to jealousy.

Two and a half years, she had fucked Elliot relentlessly, letting him fill her with abandon, no fear of consequence. Not once had they used so much as a condom, and yet Liv hadn't even had a period late enough to raise questions. One night, and Kathy had caught pregnant like it was a common cold.

Elliot Stabler Junior's birth was as inopportune as his conception. His mother lay in the hazy veil between living and dying, while Olivia clutched his tiny body between her own and a foil blanket. When the dust settled, Liv took stock of things - Alex's not calling, Elliot's readymade family, Simon's drama - and decided that it was time for her to build her own family.

But the dream had been short lived. As the agency had put it, she was not prime parent material.

"Any way you want to do it, I'll support you," Elliot had told her, but what could she say?

How could she tell him that she wished his accidental pregnancy had been hers? She would not invite him back into her bed while he was at home. So she forced herself to smother everything that Eli's birth had stirred in her, and turned back to the work to escape the pressing weight of her loneliness.

Perhaps, she told herself afterward, it had been for the best, as she spent the better part of 2008 struggling with PTSD that nobody knew existed. All through Summer and Fall, Olivia had soaked her sheets again and again with the nightmares that replayed Lowell Harris's face. She suffered the flashbacks, the dissociation, alone into November, when still just her therapy group knew.

That was, until she nearly blew Dominic Pruitt's head off. It was the alarming culmination of nine months that had seemed more full than usual of baby and pregnancy cases.

"I want you to take some personal time off," Cragen told her, and Liv listened - not because of the threat of noting her jacket, but because he was the closest she'd ever known to a father.

The elderly gentleman who met Olivia on the sidewalk in front of his tidy bungalow gave her exactly the look she expected. Grinning, she lowered her sunglasses at him.

"Thank you for meeting with me! She's gorgeous!"

'She' was a pristine black Mustang that sat at the curb looking like a misplaced relic out of a greaser's fantasy.

The owner shook hands with her politely, still eyeing her as though he was being played a fool. "That she is! Took better care of her than my wife these last 20 years." He sniffed and chortled, trailing off as he remembered Liv was also a woman.

But Olivia wasn't listening - already pacing the perimeter of the stationary car, eyes twinkling and her heart pounding, in a good way for once. Careful not to touch anything, she came as close as she dared, eyeing the windshield, the tires, lights, interior. Clean, shiny, perfectly intact - the Mustang was a dream; Liv nearly salivated at the perfection of it.

"You wanna take a look at th'engine?" the man broke into her appraisal.

"Can I?" Liv breathed, excited, and it seemed to settle the old man some.

He popped the hood and allowed her to gaze her fill. Like the rest of the vehicle, the engine was practically spit-shined to gleaming.

"Incredible," Liv praised.

"Mm. Lois says I gotta let'ter go, and accept the fact that I look like a perfect fool driving it nowadays."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Nawp," he shook his head, rhyming the word with 'top,' "nawp, she's right - I just don't like admittin' it. So, if you like her, she's yours."

Olivia was struck with a sudden pang of guilt. "Are you sure you don't want to leave it to a grandchild instead?"

The man raised a furry eyebrow at the brunette's sudden reluctance. "Got no grandchildren to speak of, so . . . likely not," he shrugged at last.

Liv nodded, understanding better than he might've realized. She didn't have the wife she had thought she would, or a child she had imagined would complete the picture. What she did have was enough cash in her savings to purchase a house in the suburbs outright, and a craving to get away.

"Then I'd love to take care of her," she told him with a smile.

"C'mon inside then, and I'll sign the pinks. Don't mind Lois," he added, "she'll no doubt want to make you eat somethin' . . . " He kept chatting as he headed up the walk, and Olivia could feel her pulse fluttering in anticipatory delight as she followed.

Fifteen minutes later, when Liv touched the convertible for the first time, it felt like grabbing a live wire. She dropped into the driver's seat with the pink slip in one hand, the feel of the leather almost indecently slick.

The man stood grinning at her from the curb, then tossed her the keys in a high arc that Liv caught easily. "Where're you gonna take her?" he asked, and she knew he meant more than just where she lived.

The engine purred to life like a cat rising from a satisfying nap, and Liv slid her sunglasses back into place. "Somewhere nice and warm," she smiled. "What's her name?"

The man blushed like she had just unexpectedly flirted with him. "Oh. Well, uh - " he rubbed the back of his neck shyly, "you should call her whatever you want."

"Forty-four years is a long time to have a name. She deserves to keep it," Liv insisted.

He straightened and pushed back his shoulders. "I used to call her Miz Dolly," he confessed. "After Missus Parton."

Olivia patted the dash. "She'll be in good hands," she told him. "Come on, Dolly." She pulled away from the curb and was on her way, giving the old man one last honk as she headed out of the neighborhood.

All that was on her mind then was open road and places far from Manhattan Winter. She couldn't have known, then, that in just three months Alex would be making another appearance in her life.

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You can read more about Law & Order: Conviction here if you are curious about how I worked canon into my timeline! - M

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likeit-or-leaveit · 5 years

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Pairing:

Aimee Carrero as Skylar Muñoz / Lucas Till as Paul Deckery

Insp: “The Mechanic” by Rascal Flatts

Word count: 2400

Series: theElementalProject

Tag list because I used your gifs

@theclassymike @fyeahlucastill @nintendo @macgyvercairo @macspaperclips @playbucky @thisgameissonintendo

The Mechanic

Paul POV

When I'm broke down, you're the mechanic

“Paul. You’re overdoing it again.” Skylar scolded. I could hear her feet patter on the cold concrete as walked into the shared garage. I didn’t say anything, just tinkered with the car above me. Thinking. Times like these my friends would find me in the tinkering in my own head.

Life hasn’t been easy for me for the past 14 years. My dad left my mom, my brother Jack and I when I was 8. When I was 12 and 17 Jack, he and mom were doing their best keeping the house afloat. I picked up a hobby at the age of 12 fixing cars here and there to do my part to keep the house a float. High school came and I found my tribe 8 people that 4 girls and 3 guys who were my chosen family.

I felt especially close to two of them, Cooper and Skylar. Cooper was my right hand man and although our childhood lives were completely different we still understood each other. Then there was Skylar, she also had the same upbringing as Cooper but she was understanding. She looked out for me but let me keep my pride.

Like the time I lost my day job because I had been with my mom In the hospital, someone had to be with her Jack was deployed. He couldn’t be there. Someone had to stay and wait for results, look out for her. Cooper and Skylar were by my side taking turns bringing me food and checking on me. Lord knows, I wouldn’t have eaten if it wasn’t for them. I wasn’t hungry, just anxious. But they were there, nonetheless.

And now, this past week I’d gotten broken up with. Stephanie Daniels left me for this karate sensei guy. I guess her mechanic boyfriend wasn’t enough. I kept thinking about her. I had planned to propose this summer. We would’ve been together 6 years in June. Now, a little velvet box sat in my sock drawer taking up space. I kept replaying all the happy times. Then watching her walk away with guy. My eyes teared up a bit. I blinked then back quickly.

I felt a little nudge on my outer thigh.

“Paul.” She cooed softly changing her tone. I slid out from underneath the car, she gave me soft smile as she knelt down beside me. I looked like a deer hit with headlights. “You alright? You always come down here and hide when you’re thinking.” She asked softly. I nodded, still in my thoughts.

“Yeah, uh fine. Doll, I am fine.” I stammered, my voice broke a bit. Then I, slid back under the car. Truth was, I wasn’t fine. I was in my head again. Coming into my powers had me a mess. I didn’t know when I’d lose my cool next and turn to stone or leave a muddy mess anywhere. I didn’t like her seeing me out of it. I didn’t want her to have to fix me.

When I'm broke down, you're the mechanic And when I'm mean, you're romantic And when I cry, you're the sexiest clown ever seen You fix me

“Paul, you’re using the pet names again.” She called out to me before she squeezed my thigh softly to get my attention. “Hiding in the garage, tinkering and using pet names. Decker what’s wrong?” She asked softly.

None of them knew Stephanie and I had broken up. I still did my rounds at the club as Cooper’s wingman, on fridays as per our usual trips. Dating someone or not. It was guys night. I sat at the bar drinking, watching everyone dance.

I went this Friday, last night, drank more than usual. Feeling lost, got drunk. Came home at 2 am, was walked to my room by Cooper. He didn’t expect to babysit me. He didn’t have to babysit me. But, he did. Making sure I got into bed and had aspirin waiting me in the morning.

I took it without food. I wasn’t hungry. I just got up and made my way to the garage before anyone got up. I wanted to be alone. “Deck— errrryyyyy,” she sang my name trying to draw me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, Doll.” I said, my voice a lot steadier than a few minutes ago. She tugged on my jeans again. “I am fine. Stop fishing for info. Okay, doll?” I heard a sigh, fall from her lips. She knew something wasn’t right. I didn’t want her to push.

“What time did you guys get in last night?” She asked.

“Two am. Why?” I murmured, hoping she’d drop whatever she was about to ask. “Do I have a curfew, mom?” She couldn’t see the grin playing on my lips.

“Since, you’re calling me mom. When was the last time you ate? If you say last night at 6ish during dinner, I am kicking your ass.” She stated matter of factly. “I know you spent the whole night drinking. I heard you drunkenly arguing and moaning at Cooper about something.” Shit. That caught my attention. My eyes started to water again. “I know something is up. Might as well spill.” She snarked with a chuckle.

When I'm a sinner, you're a King James And when I'm lost, you're the map's missin' page And when I'm shakin', you're steady like stone You see, you fix me 

I rolled out from under the car again, sniffing back a few tears then looked at Skylar. Her face fell seeing mine. My eyes welled up with tears, her whole expression soften. I sat up beside her and pushed my hair back. By now I was covered in sweat and oil. I was dirty, sweaty and now willing myself not to cry. I swallowed back a sob. I knew she was still next to me, I didn't want to make eye contact.

I couldn’t help it anymore, I let out a strangled whimper and cried quietly with my arms on my knees supporting my body. I just let it out. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into her chest. I cried into her she just ran her fingers through my hair, and ran her fingers down my back soothingly.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, Paul. Let it out.” She said not knowing why I was crying. She was just there as she always was. Calming me down.

“We were gonna get married.” I cried into her shoulder. I felt her nod then she placed a kiss on my dirty hair, not caring about the grease. “Skyyyyy, I bought a ring. I was gonna propose, in June. She left me.” I cried harder, she wrapped her arms around me whispering into my hair, things like ‘it’s okay,’ and ‘it’s gonna be okay’ I just sobbed into her body. “I know it hadn’t been easy for us since the powers. I was gonna tell her about them. But— but — she’s gone. She wanted someone else.” My voice fell into a whisper. I knew there was no way to get her back. I looked back up at Skylar who was now teary eyed.

“Stephanie doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.” She affirmed, I looked down at my hands. “You’re a great man, sweet kind and caring man. Look at me,” i locked eyes with her. “If she can’t see that her loss. Okay?” I nodded then cried into my hands some more.

I'd be crazry baby, lost forever Blowin' around in stormy weather Like a bunch of dead leaves 

“It’s been one week since she left me. It hit me last night. I got drunk,” I divulged to Sky, who nodded understandingly as I sniffed tears and wiped the tears from my face. “Like really drunk, sloppy drunk. Skylar, I didn’t even tell Cooper last night. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts this morning.” I confided, She mouthed an ‘I know’ before caressing my cheek. I leaned into the touch, bowing my head into her hand.

It had been awhile since, almost 2 months actually, Stephanie and I were intimate, she was always busy with her karate, her job and apparently that guy. I had been touch starved.

“I didn’t mean to break down in front of you. You didn’t need to see this. I just— uh— I don’t know,” I stammered again my voice cracking. I was starting to fall back into the depression that went along with the break up, wanting nothing more than to be held, to be comforted.

“Hey, hey. None of that.” She said opening her arms again. I melted into her body again, my face buried into her shoulder. It’s like she knew without me having to say a word. “It’s okay,” she whispered, carding fingers through my hair again. “Just relax. Okay?”

Truth is, if she hadn’t come here to check in on me I would’ve suppressed it for a little until someone would’ve done something to piss me off. Then, I would’ve lost my shit. The walls I would’ve created would’ve fell. I would’ve punched an actual wall to feel something. After that, I would’ve probably came to Skylar like a pup with my tail between my legs asking to be mended. Asking her to clean my wound. We would’ve sat in silence, in our shared bathroom. She’d clean the wound and bandage it, then pull the plaster bin that I had hid under the vanity. She’d watch me fix the wall. This happened every time I got too angry or too sad. All in silence. No tears on either end. No pity from her. Just a quick fix.

I'd be a boarded up house on a dead end street Old Chevy on blocks, leakin' gasoline Oh it ain't hard to see Broke down is where I'd be Baby you fix me

This time it wasn’t a quick cold fix. This was the slow warm reassurance I needed. I needed to feel loved, wanted and cared for. I had felt like a Chevy on blocks for a while. The past few months had been cold, in my relationship. Stephanie and I had been like ships passing in the night, cold but cordial. One sided love, I still loved her although she had been cold. I felt I would die alone

Skylar brought me out it, bringing me back to life. Her arms were always warm and inviting.

“I don’t want to die alone, Skylar.” I blurted into her shoulder. She was startled by the comment pulling away from the hug. I felt like my tires had gone flat in a rainstorm.

“Don’t you ever say that.” She said, grabbing my chin, softly with one hand. “You won’t die alone. You’ve got people who love you and who understand you. Never say that.” She searched my eyes. “Do you understand me?” I nodded. “As long as I am around you will never die alone. Okay? I mean it.”

When I'm cold, you're on fire And when I'm flat, you're air for the tire 

I nodded in response. She stood up beside me and held a hand out for me I took it. “Let’s go grab some snack then get you cleaned up. Then watch a movie. It’s just us today. Everyone is working except Coop he’s out with Tyler.” She informed me. “So, Adam Sandler movies and snacks?” We passed the kitchen, grabbing drinks and snacks. Dropping them onto my bed grabbing a sleep shirt as I was dragged along by Skylar

She pulled me into our bathroom by my wrist. I took of my shirt and sat on the toilet, she sat on the tubs edge filling a small bucket with warm water and soap from the tub tap. She ran a washcloth across my cheeks, humming softly content with the seeing the scum slowly leave my skin.

I grabbed her wrist softly as she brought the wash cloth one last time to my face. “Thank you,” I murmured. She smiled softly not saying a word, wiped my face. Emptied the bucket cleaned up after us. I sat on the toilet, watching her, flutter around the bathroom putting stuff away. “I know that I don’t tell you enough, how thankful I am to have you in my life.” I said dropping my head again. “I never said thank you, for dealing with me after Jack left. Or even, for staying at the He hospital with me while I waited on mom’s results. For feeding me, making me eat when I waited, I know I am difficult.” I rambled, fiddling with a hand towel she had given me to dry my face. “Being my friend can’t be easy.” I chuckled humorlessly, rambling on. “I can’t imagine how Stephanie felt dating me. She always complained about everything I did but, you never have.” I didn’t notice she came back to sit next to me taking the towel from my hands softly.

“It doesn’t make sense to complain.” She smiled.

“I’ve crushed my hands on walls. You’ve had to clean my wounds.” I argued.

“I don’t have to you up. I want to.” She said, taking my hands in Hers inspecting some of the scars that now decorated my hands.

“You bought, spackle to fix walls and hid it in our bathroom.” I whined.

“Because, I know you waited until everyone went to bed before fixing the wall, Paul.” She winced, looking up at me. “You’d act so embarrassed after punching the wall, you acted like you were taking the walk of shame to the garage to get the spackle.” She ran her thumb across my knuckles. “I know how you get. I figured I’d save you from that.”

I laughed a bit my face red.

“Go get changed, get in bed and pick a movie. I’ll join you in a few. Changing into shorts.” She went out her door, I went into my bed sat under the covers. I picked Billy Maddison. She came out a few minutes later and sat beside me.

“Can I lay my head on your lap?” I asked softly, expected to say no. Instead she pulled the covers off and patted her lap to invite me in. She carded her fingers through my hair until I fell asleep.

And when I'm rain through the clouds your sunshine screams

You fix me

‘Cause

When I'm broke down, you're the she’s my mechanic

#lucas till #project elemental #thr elemental project #ocs #the mechanic #rascal flatts

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superkatesi · 6 years

Text

What Happens in Suffolk Stays in Suffolk

Title: What happens in Suffolk stays in Suffolk // Ed Sheeran Fanfiction, mature content

Authors: @famousconfessions and @superkatesi

Rating: NC-17

Author’s Note: Another chapter of our story with @famousconfessions . Warning: lots of smut and teasing. Enjoy it and leave your feedback.❤️

I actually hated long car rides... but not today. Because for once I wasn't alone. Ed sat right next to me, driving, singing, talking to me and just keeping me entertained on the almost 3 hour- long car ride to his hometown Suffolk. Still, I'd rather stayed on this sofa with him, cuddling and maybe going in for round two, but that had to wait. Of course, he wouldn't miss his dad’s birthday party and I definitely understood that. I loved his family as much as mine so I knew how important parties like these were to him. Plus, we got to catch up on the drive to his parents house. He told me everything about his tour, I told him what happened at home and at my job while he was gone. But right now it was quiet, well, except for Ed humming along the song on the radio and I just watched him. I still couldn't believe that he was back... I was definitely the luckiest girl in the whole world. “Whattt?”, he suddenly asked, looking at me and smiling. “Nothing! Am I not allowed to look at you? I mean, I need to make use of the fact that you're here because that's not all too often”, I teased, sticking my tongue out. “When did you become so cheeky? Looks like you need a good spanking, huh?”, he looked at me for a second before putting his eyes back on the road and I swallowed hard. I knew he was joking but fuck... what a thought. It made me want to jump on him again but, well... bad timing. Probably, I should not think about something like that because we'd spend the weekend at his parents house and we should keep our hands off each other...

We stopped by a nice little coffeeshop in the middle of nowhere. We needed to stretch our legs and get some caffeine after an hour and a half of our trip. “Do you want me to grab something for you, love?”, Ed asked me, while putting on in his dark blue cap and fixing his round glasses. “Maybe a muffin? Honestly, I’m not very hungry”, I answered checking my email. “A muffin?”, I heard a boyish grin in his voice : “You are my little muffin”, he exclaimed and kissed my nose. Ed got off the car and went coffee-hunting. I looked at him while he was going away...: “This man drives me crazy. No matter what...His love is a huge cotton candy cloud and I want to spend my life lying on it ”. I looked in the mirror: “Damn, my dark circles are getting bigger and bigger”. On the one hand, I was hoping to get my beauty sleep at Ed’s parents house, on the other one, I was dying to spend my night teasing this boy’s body and savor our moments. “Get out of the car, kitten. I’ve got something yummy for you”. I didn’t have another option but to leave the car. I saw him holding a bag containing a giant chocolate muffin. I felt like a child back then. Ed was sipping on coffee and I noticed him lighting a cigarette. Though he gave up smoking, when he’s in Suffolk, he dives into the memories of his childhood and teen years, his ups and downs. And a cigarette or two isn’t an exception while staying here. He was staring at the sky, he looked like the happiest human being on Earth. I came up to him and gave him the biggest squeeze in the world. “I love you, Teddy”, I murmured. He smelled like coffee with cinnamon, fresh pastry, tobacco and there was something incredibly attracting about this smell. “I love you too”, he answered, without looking at me but I felt a warm smile in his voice. “It’s time to go. We don’t want to be late and skip all the cocktails, do we?”, he winked at me and headed to the car. “To be honest, I'd rather go back home right now and-”... “Don't say it”, he cut me off, still smiling and I couldn't help but smile back at him. He knew exactly what I wanted to say and now I knew that he felt the exact same way. I wasn't the only one who would've rather stayed on the sofa... or in the bed. Or the shower. Or the bathtub. Or the kitchen table. Anywhere. It didn't matter. But this screamed for some teasing, even if I would torture myself with it. It was just so much fun. I shrugged my shoulders, tried to look as innocent as I possibly could, before I got back in the car. We had another 1 1/2 hours in front of us and I was kinda glad about that, because that meant another 1 1/2 hours of having Ed all to myself. I knew I had to share him with his family once we'd arrive and that was fine, but... at the same time I didn't want to share him. This boy drove me crazy and being away from him had made it even worse.

“By the way... will Ellie be there?”, Ellie was his great cousin, I think, and I didn't like her at all, because all she did was trying to get her hands on him and I was having none of that. I was fine sharing him with his parents, but not with that bod. “Huh? Don't know, love, why?”, god he was so oblivious. Maybe it was because he didn't consider himself attractive, so most of the time he didn't notice when someone was flirting with him, but I saw her intentions from the moment I've met her. “Nevermind”, maybe she wasn't even invited and wouldn't be a problem. At least, I hoped so.

The rest of the drive was uneventful, we just talked some more and it was getting harder and harder not to touch him. When we finally pulled up on the driveway of his parents house I couldn't help but pull him in for a passionate kiss, as soon as he parked the car. In an instant, I felt his hands on my thigh and the other one on my neck, pulling me closer to him. Fuck, this kiss made me feel things and got my body to go crazy again, but then he let go of me. He licked his lips, smiling, before saying: “We should really get in, baby girl. Think about the cocktails”, he winked at me and I was once again shaking my head at his teasing self. Right now I didn't care about fucking cocktails at all, but we needed to be responsible adults. I sighed, taking a deep breath, before getting out of the car... and a second later the family reunion began.

We entered the house in which Ed’s grown up. There was definitely something nostalgic about it. His parents are the sweetest and the most supportive people in the world. His mum was making last preparations in the kitchen, dad was talking to Matt, but the majority of the guests were already in the garden. “Hey mate, I was hoping that you got lost somewhere, so I can get all the beer”, Matt giggled and pulled Ed in for a hug. “Not this time, mug”, Ed chuckled and pinched Matt’s arm slightly. We talked altogether for a while but it was the moment to go, everybody was dying to get this party started . It was the coziest dinner in the world. We spent that evening talking, drinking, dancing and singing. When it got dark Ed turned on the garden lights and it seemed as if we were surrounded by hundreds of fireflies. Everybody was so chill and talkative. After finishing my wild dance to “Happy” by Pharrell with one of his aunties, I got another cocktail and jumped on Ed’s lap. “Are you having fun, babe?”, he smiled and wrapped his hands around my waist. Instead of answering I started wiggling my hips along the beat of a new song. “Someone is getting naughty tonight, huh?”, he whispered in my ear. At that moment I felt his hands travelling from my waist to my hips and thighs. All the guests were so engrossed into the celebration that no one paid attention to our little game. My hips kept making these delicious movements that couldn’t left him indifferent. I started feeling his growing interest through his denim and the fabric of my summer floral dress. “Want to run away with you, love”, he kept murmuring. But I had a plan, I took something from the pocket of my dress and hid it in the chest pocket of his plaid. He looked at me puzzled but without uttering a single word I jumped from his lap and went straight forward to the greenhouse. I few seconds later I heard his steps following me. “Smart boy, he got the signal and probably found my panties in his pocket”, I thought to myself.

“I've been gone for to long, haven't I?”, I heard his voice and biting my lip I turned around to face him. I couldn't hide the cheeky smile that spread across my face but that was gone the second I saw him standing there. He looked serious, but I saw that glow in his eyes that told me he wasn't angry or anything... but he was definitely into playing along to that game I've started. My panties were in his hand, hanging from his fingers and now he couldn't help but smile. “I think you've lost something... but I guess you don't want them back, do you, love?”, his raspy voice gave me goosebumps and it made me want to rip his clothes off right now. But instead, I shook my head and watched as he shoved the fabric in the back pocket of his jeans. “Good! So, are you gonna be a good girl, now?”, he asked, taking a few steps towards me. He now stood right in front of me, I could feel the warmth of his body, my back squeezed into the work bench behind me... but he didn't touch me and that really drove me crazy. I just stood there, looking into his deep blue eyes, taking steady breaths... when he suddenly grabbed me and turned me around. I gasped, because I didn't expect that to happen which turned into a loud moan, when I felt him press into me. There was way too much fabric between us but it was enough to make me want more. My hands grabbed the work bench for support, as he moved against me, his hands finding their way under my dress, up my thighs and finally between my legs. For a second I thought I'd drop to my knees, because they sure felt like jelly. I was weak, he was my fucking kryptonite. “Ohh, Teddy”, was all I could get out, leaning into him. My heart was pounding in my chest, my body felt like it was electrified as his fingers found my soft spot. It just felt so good that I completely lost myself in the sensation when he suddenly stopped. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, whispered: “Later, babe” into my ear and stepped away. My gaze met his, he winked at me and then left the greenhouse. He did NOT just do that.

He left me standing there with my aching body. That second, when he touched the right button .... I wanted him to put these amazing fingers deep inside of me and fuck me to death. I wanted to scream and see fireworks in front of my eyes. But there I was, standing all alone. That’s not fucking right. I was going to make him beg for mercy. I went back to the dance floor. Ed was bouncing to his favorite songs and rapping along. What a look...Teddy was all sweaty with chest hair peaking through his flannel, his curls plastered to his forehead. I wanted to ride him so badly, I wanted to inhale his boyish smell and give him the most passionate kiss on Earth. I felt like my juices were running down my thighs cause I was still with no panties and craving for more. I started dancing and with every movement I got closer to him, my eyes met his and I gave him the most sensual look I was able to. “Hi, Teddy”, I can recognize that voice from thousands.. it was his cousin — Ellie. I didn’t like her much and it was mutual. She put her filthy arms around his neck and started moving her body along. What the fuck was going on?? I couldn’t stand it and went for another drink. It was intolerable for me to watch someone putting their hands on my man. I was ready to burn this town. But I had something more interesting in mind.

Who the fuck did she think she was? She knew that we were together but she didn’t seem to respect that at all. I didn’t have anything against other girls talking to him. Not at all. But I couldn’t stand it when they were all over him, touching him, thinking they could really get anywhere. I trusted Ed completely, but I didn’t trust these girls, especially not Ellie. Ed and I have been together for three years and she didn’t give up until now.

I bit my lip, chugging down another shot of Tequila and watching how her hands were trailing down his chest, her hips moving against his and I felt a tight knot in my stomach. She made me furious. And why the fuck didn’t he push her away? Why did he let her do that? I was fucking jealous and maybe that’s exactly what he wanted... or maybe he was just too drunk to realize what she was doing to him.

I grabbed another drink from the table, a glass of vodka-red bull, and made my way to the dance floor. It was still full, Suffolk people knew how to party, so I used the situation and pretended to be pushed when I got to Ellie and Ed. I dumped my drink all over Ellies shirt and started acting as if I was really sorry. “Ellie! Oh my god, I’m sooo sorry. Someone pushed me. Oh that gorgeous shirt is probably ruined now”, I cooed, pushing her away from him. “You should probably try to wash up and keep your hands off my man”, I wasn’t that friendly anymore now.

I’m an independent woman. I respected other girls but this time was completely different. And Ed, where was he looking at? He was ready to let this girl kiss him or whatever... I didn’t understand it! There were several waves of anger...I couldn’t stand it anymore and I decided to leave. I grabbed one of Ed’s cigarettes and one more shot of tequila. I went infront of the greenhouse where a couple of minutes ago we were ready to eat each other. I’m weak, I burst into tears. If he behaved like this in front of me, what was going on during the tour, after his gigs, when there were thousands of girls ready to do everything he wanted. Am I selfish? Am I possessive? Tear drops were rolling down my cheeks, I hated smoking but I wanted to harm myself.. I’m so pathetic... It was the end. I didn’t want to start a fight with Ellie or Ed. I was ready to leave. “I’m sorry”, he was standing there with his head down. I didn’t answer. I’ve turned away. “I couldn’t live like this. That’s enough, Ed. I’m done.”, I was devastated but trying to stay calm. “Darling, it was just a moment. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Do you want me to leave you? One word and I’ll do it without any hesitation”. I heard his voice trembling. I looked at him...it was dark but I swear, I saw tears in his eyes, his face was distorted with pain. “Yeah, just fuck off!”, I hissed at him but to be honest... I didn’t really mean it. Yes, I was mad at him but I didn’t want him to leave, especially since I could see that he cared about what happened. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the fact that I still missed him, even though he was here. God, I was so fucking childish. But I was so in love. “Okay...No! No, you know what? God, I just hate that fucking skank! And it just... I can't stand seeing her all over you like that. I'm not trying to be the annoying, jealous girlfriend here, really... but it was too much”, I said, wiping a tear from my cheek, as I looked at him. I felt bad seeing him like that, I hated to see him unhappy or sad and I was kinda surprised that this right here hit him like that. “I'm sorry. I didn't think. I... I promise it's not like that on tour. I'm hardly ever partying and even if I am, you know, I'm with my mates and there's just one thing on my mind. You. I swear!”, I believed him. I really did, but the images of him with Ellie didn't want to leave me. “I'm stupid and drunk and I know I don't deserve you. I mean... look at me...” Wait... what? I suddenly felt like a piece of shit for making a scene like that. Of course, he should've made clear that Ellie crossed a line, but he was drunk and I knew he didn't do that to hurt me. Not intentionally. “Stop! God, I'm an idiot", I sighed and walked up to him, taking his face in my hands. My thumbs brushed his cheeks and for a moment I just looked into his eyes. “Don't ever say that again, okay? It's not true. You're beautiful, inside and out... I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

I felt like a moron at that moment...but his tears...It was impossible to resist his lips. It was the purest pleasure. I bit his upper lip and tasted his tongue. I felt his regret on my lips. I know that he’s not like this, he’s my one and only. I’m ready to catch a grenade for him, I’m ready to do anything in the world for him. This sweet, indulging kiss lasted forever. Suddenly, I felt his hand grabbing one of my ass cheeks shyly. I moaned a bit encouraging him to go for it. All of the worries were gone. My fingers were playing with his scruff and his delicious curls. One sec and I’m up in the air wrapping my legs around his torso. His fingers were kneading my flesh and I was ready to dissolve in him. “Wait, love”, he said impatiently, : “We need to hide somewhere”, his voice sounded so raspy and sexy. He put me on the ground and we went to a bench in the darkest corner of the garden. I heard my heart beating and there was a feeling of excitement and sin. Suddenly, I found myself sitting on him. Somehow he managed to lower his jeans and started stroking his sweet cock. “Come on, love. We don’t want to be exposed , do we?”, he smirked and licked his pinkish lips. “I couldn't care less... let them see us, I don't care. Maybe Ellie will come to watch, so she can finally understand that you belong to me”, I mumbled, with a cheeky grin on my lips. As long as his parents wouldn't see what we were about to do here, I was totally okay with it. I watched him for a second, jerking himself off and fuck, that sight was extremely hot. It was mesmerizing seeing him touching himself, the way he grabbed his cock, the way he closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure. But then I stopped him because I was dying to make him feel good now. Maybe I wanted to make it up to him that I flipped out earlier... and I just needed to touch him. I replaced my hand with his, trailing my fingertips and nails down his length, before I kissed his lips. My thumb flicked over his shaft as I heard him moan into our passionate kiss. There just wasn't anything better than to make him feel this way... My lips soon found their way to his neck and I started to unbutton his plaid, my lips following my fingers, down his torso and I stopped right before his twitching cock. Hmm... it's been way too long since the last time I got a taste of that. I kissed my way around it, until I finally twirled my tongue around the top. He took a sharp breath and I felt him tense up, but that didn't stop me. I looked up at him as I licked his delicious length from the bottom all the way to the top, before taking him in completely, eagerly sucking his cock. I was starving. I needed to feel his plush head with a drop of precum and his shaft with intertwined veins in my mouth. I missed it.. I missed his deep moans, his tensed muscles and his hands in my hair. I was bobbing my head up and down, there was no way back. I heard music and people singing along but I heard Ed’s throaty groaning, as well. I put my fingers round this magic tool and started tugging it while kissing the most sensitive part of his body. “I’m close..ahhh..love..”, his words echoed in my ears. Honestly, I’d like to let this boy release and feel his body twitching but... I didn’t forget about him teasing me with his fingers. So I stopped, gave him the most fuckable look, fixed my dress and went to the house. Dear God, I hope, you forgive my mean soul. Later on, I was going to take this man to heaven but right now he deserved a lesson. Amen. I turned and beckoned him. It was time to finish this party and to finish my ginger boy off.

I felt kinda bad to play with him like that but he had it coming. He knew I would get my revenge when he left me in that fucking greenhouse... I looked back again, seeing him get up as I walked into the house. It was quiet, everyone was partying outside and I took my time climbing up the stairs, looking at the photos on the wall. There were a lot of family photos, Ed's parents, his brother, him as a kid and as a teen, the whole family together, the two brothers... there were also a few pictures of him on stage or holding different awards. I couldn't help but smile and feel proud of my boy, he was so talented and although he was so successful he was still a normal guy. Well... he was a fucking tease, but I could handle that.

I ended up in his room, which made me smile because the walls were still painted in a bright orange and the scribblings were also still there. It seemed like his parents didn't want to erase those memories and it was kinda cute. "Cute" was also the right word to describe the tiny bed, but hey, I loved to cuddle up to my boyfriend, so, sleeping in there shouldn't be a problem. If we would sleep at all... “There you are”, I heard a deep voice behind me and a second later I felt his presence behind me. I could feel his warm breath on my skin and it made me shiver. But I wasn't going to cave in just now and let him take the lead again. I still wasn't done. “Can we end this fucking game now?”, he sounded so impatient and I loved it. I chuckled, turned around to him and pushed him to the bed, where he laid down. He had his jeans back on and I could tell that it probably must've been painful for him... you could see that bulge from a mile away. “Why? I like playing with you. It's fun, innit?”, I shrugged my shoulders, before climbing on top of him, instantly starting to grind against him, because even I could barely take this anymore. I just wanted him to fuck me senseless.

“Fuck, no, it's not”, he hissed as he put his hands on my thighs, pulling up my dress and moving against me. “I can't take it anymore, love. I wanted to fuck you again since we got in my car. And then you started this thing and... for fucks sake”, he stopped his movements, grabbed me and all of a sudden we were standing again, in the same position as earlier in the greenhouse. He didn't even take the time to take off my dress or his clothes, I just heard him nestling on his belt and a second later I felt him inside of me. I gasped for air and a loud moan escaped my lips, as I held onto the bedsheets. This was pretty unexpected, but oh so good. “I’m going to get you off this time, love.. You’re gonna come so hard on this thirsty cock...”, he said in-between his heavy breathes. “I knew that you’d love this lil game.. you.. Sheeran”, I articulated while trying to keep our eye contact. “I bet, you still have my panties in your pocket, huh?”, I smirked at him and at that moment I felt his rock-hard cock hitting my most desperate wall. I couldn’t talk anymore, my speech turned into one deep moan. “They are, love, they are... ahhhh...”, he moaned when I tightened my pussy around him. “Teddy, I want you to come inside of me, want it to run down my thighs... want to feel you releasing in this wet girl”, I was bitting on his shoulder in order not to scream and I knew that these words would drive him wild. I was literally in the air, only his hands and his pleasure tool held me at the moment. I was about to crumble into thousands of pieces when I felt him stopped moving and just stood like this inside of me. I started contracting my walls and this pleasure of him stretching me out and not making a single move made me twisting as if I was on fire. “That’s my girl....Let your puss feel it...contract and relax... contract and relax...”, he kept giving me instructions while kissing my jaw line. I obeyed and began following his words. There was something incredibly hot about it. I knew that I wouldn’t last long. My muscles started tightening without any effort and I felt it coming. It was like a tsunami, there was just a black hole of sheer pleasure, I even heard myself moaning, bouncing and trembling on his throbbing flesh. Somewhere faraway, on the other side of this fuck road I heard his moan: “I can’t hold anymore, kitten...Gonna explode...deep... in this tight puss...”. His twitching cock brought me to another level of heaven-like pleasure and I melted in his arms.

I was glad he held me, because otherwise I'd probably dropped to the floor. My knees were made of jelly once again, especially when I heard his deep growl, that told me he was right there... at the same tame I felt his hot seed inside of me. It made me moan once again and my eyes fell shut, my head dropped to his shoulder, as he made a few last, deep, lazy thrusts. I flinched because it was so intense and I had the feeling that I was more sensitive because of all the teasing that had happened before. “You're amazing, love”, his voice was so quiet and soft and full of love that I feared my heart would explode any second. I couldn't be mad at him for long and today proofed that again. I just smiled at him, as he made me lie down on the bed. A second later he was beside me, pulling me in for a hug. My back was pressed to his chest and I could feel his heart race. He placed a few kisses on my neck and my shoulder and suddenly his hands were between my legs again, his fingers rubbing small, slow circles around my clit. I quivered again and started whimpering because it was almost more than I could take. “I hope no one heard us... otherwise it's gonna be quite awkward at the breakfast table tomorrow”, he mumbled, not stopping the movement of his fingers. “I bet, you could still keep going, huh?”, I was already panting again, moving against his hand to get some more friction. “I guess that's a yes”. “I... I don't trust... you anymore”, I managed to get out, because after all of this today I wouldn't have been surprised if he would've stopped any second again to leave me high and dry. But right now I didn’t see any danger of him leaving me. So I arched my back and spread my legs wider in order he could reach all of the folds and enjoy this messy view. “Love, you look so beautiful right now”, he whispered underneath his breath. I smiled while pushing my pelvis to meet his fingers again. This man knows how to act. These little circles turned into pressing my push button and sliding two fingers deep down inside. He took his time, he enjoyed himself. His fingers are well trained and he knows how play with my overheated body. I was watching him...his lips parted, his eyes fixed on the fingers going all the way down. I felt my lower belly clenching: “Teddy, I want it faster and... can you add another finger?”, I murmured. “Of course, baby girl”, he cooed. Now I was sure that he wouldn’t leave me here all by myself. He started increasing his pace and kissing my thighs. Right now I was on the edge and just couldn’t but keep moaning and ride this wave. “I get you, love...Want you to come so bad”, he said softly. I fell to pieces all over his fingers, I was lying senseless on his old bed. He licked his fingers with a look full of satisfaction and pride: “You’re my sweet girl. I love you ”. “I love you, Teddy”, I answered rubbing my eyes and yawning. It was a long day full of adventures.

#ed sheeran #teddy sheeran #smut #ed sheeran smut #nc-17

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ironcmoniker1 · 2 years

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Plateau

I've plateaued in my mental health journey.

There was a few years of having my mental illness essentially run my life. It was about two years, and I was repeatedly hospitalized. For the past two years or so, I've been on a slow, but steady progress recovering.

I've written the first draft of a novel. I'm 90% of the way through the second draft. I have an editor I want to work with when it's finished. I need to finish it, but I'm procrastinating. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to find out it's terrible. I'm afraid to be told I don't have what it takes.

This really shouldn't matter. There are tons of books I've read that really aren't very good. I've read best sellers that weren't very good. A lot of very successful writers write the same book, repeatedly. To be clear, I don't want to write a best seller. I want to be able to support myself through writing. That's it. No changing the world. No best sellers. I don't really care about that stuff, I just mentioned best sellers because apparently, you don't have to be a GREAT writer to be able to make a living. I just want to make a living. Maybe I don't have a great novel in me, that's fine. I'll write the best novel I can, and see what happens, but holy fuck am I scared of hearing I'm just a terrible writer, at the same time.

I'm currently on disability. It's not enough to live on. I'm fortunate enough to have a family member who let's me live with them. If they didn't, I'd be pretty severely fucked. I could maybe afford a really shitty efficiency apartment, and not really eat. I couldn't afford health care, because the state I'm in decided the deductible for me to qualify for "assistance" with medical costs is about $200 less than what I get in disability. My health insurance, until April when I will have been disabled for two years, is $500 per month. I couldn't afford both health insurance and a place to live, if it weren't for my relative allowing me to live here.

Maybe it seems insane to look at this situation and say, "Well, I'm going to write to make money." In fact, I'm relatively sure it does. The thing is, I can't do anything else. Everything I've done in my life, all my other skills are geared toward sales, customer service, etc. and I can't work with the public anymore. I've had two life altering experiences with violence that basically boil down to men feeling uncomfortable about their masculinity and needing to use violence to give them back whatever sense of power or control they feel they've lost. I can't really do the general public anymore. My fight or flight response is a bit too highly attuned to men being insecure about their masculinity.

I used to be great with people. The thing I've realized in the last few years though, is that I was great with people because I was terrified of them. My experience with violence as a kid, and then having a few male role models who were given to unpredictable bouts of rage, basically put me into a position where I spend every second monitoring strangers for their level of comfort and ease. I got preternaturally good at reading discomfort because what I learned was that if I could head off whatever the discomfort was, I could keep people calm and be able to engage with them without being subjected to rage, aggression or violence. It's become something embedded in my being. I subconsciously do it. I'm reading body language, speech patterns and intonation, breathing, all of it. I didn't even knew I did it until I got sent for some sales training and I was like, "Why are you trying to teach me to be alive? I can't not do this." It just took a few more years, two of which were spent in and out of psych wards, to figure out why I'd always done it and why I can't stop.

That's the other part of it. It's not healthy for me to be doing that anymore, especially for the amount of time a full time job requires me to do it. It's literally the thing which ends up driving me crazy. Especially now, where everyone is so keyed up for conflict by so much of the media and environment around us. When homie starts screaming and throwing a fit about having to wear a mask, and I'm the person employed to have to deal with that, it's not going to go well. It's going to be real bad in the moment, and then it's going to wreck my mental health for weeks after. If someone were to get violent with me, which is happening for people in sales and customer service more and more, I'm not exactly sure what that's going to do to me, either in the moment or in the long term. In the moment, I might hurt someone, badly, because I'm fucking terrified. Long term, it might mean a backslide into more hospital stays etc. I can't really do it. It's not worth taking the chance.

I don't know.

This plateau with my recovery is kind of a good thing, I know that. Forward progression doesn't always mean "getting better." Sometimes it involves periods of just being okay where you are. At the same time, I have some kind of sense that if I'm not progressing, if I'm not getting better, mental illness is going to catch up with me, so there's a restlessness. And still, I also recognize that is a crazy making proposition. No one can be "getting better" every single moment, every single day, every single week. Sometimes, there has to be stasis.

It feels kind of like living on a train track. I've gotten far enough ahead of the train to be able to chill for a minute. The train is still back there though. It's still coming. I'm not sure how far back it is either. I think it's pretty far back, but I've been wrong before, and when I'm wrong, it means I have to do this fucking mad dash to put some distance between us. It becomes an emergency. This is what it feels like to be trying to tend my mental health, just always trying to keep ahead of a train which will run me down if I stop for too long.

I'm basically resurrecting this Tumblr to be able to write about what's going on with my mental health journey and my maintenance of my mental health etc. I don't really have anyone to talk to, so I figured talking to myself and whispering into the void isn't the worst possible option.

Also, I recently watched Wolf Like Me and if looked at as a metaphor for mental illness, it was pretty good. I liked the way it portrayed what it's like to have a mental illness, and trying to meet people, and then that doing the maintenance can mean you can have a good life. There's also a bit in there about how introducing people into your life can mean changes in how you maintain, but also that your mental health can be affected by those relationships, and kind of specifically how loving people can mean threats to their well being can effect your well being.

Josh Gad and Isla Fisher are pretty great together, and there are some moments which got genuine laughs out of me, which never hurts either.

#mental health #mental illness #habits

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