#i am simply . . . not okay ! ! not coping ! ! struggling ! !
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Help Me Hold on to You
Description: Ted and the reader struggle with balancing mental health and everyday life. (Based on The Archer by Taylor Swift)
Pairing: Ted Lasso x fem!Reader
Warnings: depictions of anxiety and panic
Word Count: 8.9k
A/N: one of my all time favs that i’ve written (and, not to sound conceited, one of my favs in general bc it was super self-indulgent hehe). originally posted on tumblr. then dropped onto ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.
“Hey, Y/N. Whatcha up to?” Ted burst into your shared office, a wide-eyed look on his face.
You shook your head with a smirk, “Just going over the last game, trying to figure out what we can do better next time.”
You paused the video on your laptop, shutting it and looking up to him expectantly. He pulled a chair up next to you, suddenly looking a little nervous.
“I know that look, Ted. What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, plastering on a smile. “Nothing.”
“You wouldn’t have come interrupting me unless you had something you wanted to talk about.”
His face dropped, nodding slowly. “I’m getting kind of sick of you reading me like a book, sweetheart.”
“No, you’re not.”
He chuckled, looking back at you. “Okay, guilty. Uh, I’m not sure how to address this, so I guess I better just come out and say it, huh?”
You nodded back at him, silent, but with a reassuring smile.
He clapped once. “So, uh, nobody really knows about this, but I’ve been dealing with some anxiety lately. I, uh— I don’t really want anyone knowing about it, so if you could…”
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse in a trap.”
He raised a brow. “Morbid.”
“My colloquialisms can’t be as silly and polished as yours, friend.”
He smiled. “Guess not. Don’t really have room in my head for ‘em right now, though.”
You shrugged. “That’s okay. I like you whether or not you’re acting like a landscaper’s favorite machine.”
He paused for a moment, trying to put the pieces together. Then, his face lit up.
“Chipper?”
You simply pointed at him with a wink.
“Nice,” he said with a smile. He looked back down to his hands, smile melting. “So, um, I guess I just wanted you to know. That was the reason I had to leave the game, actually. It wasn’t food poisoning, but it just seems easier to let people believe that, you know? But, anyway. You seem to be good with these kinds of things, and I just… I don’t know.”
“Sometimes it’s nice just to tell someone, yeah?”
He nodded with a small grin. “Rebecca’s seen it happen once, but I think that’s about it. I made an appointment to speak with the doc, but I just couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged, head shaking. “It’s bull.”
“Ted, you remember what you told me when I talked to you about my issues with trust?”
He raised a brow. “I told you nobody good would hurt you like…”
“You told me that all people are different people. You’ve said it a few times around me, I know you’ve told other people the same. And you know what?”
“What?” His brows sat raised.
“You need to start taking your own advice.”
“I don’t like when you do that.”
“Do what?” You laughed.
He chuckled with you. “When you’re right. I’m not supposed to be a quitter, either.”
“Not for the good things, anyway, huh?”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
He started standing, but you stood with him before he could go anywhere.
“Hey, there’s something I want you to know, too.”
“Shoot,” he said, gesturing for you to continue.
“I deal with anxiety, too. A lot, actually.”
He furrowed his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t want you to worry.”
“Well, now I am.”
“Don’t. I can cope, I just— I want you to know you’re not alone in this, okay? I get panic attacks, anxiety attacks, I deal with more minor symptoms pretty much every day. And you know what? It doesn’t make me any less of a person. Doesn’t make you, either.”
You saw the tears that began to prick his eyes, but decided to leave that situation alone. Instead, you pulled him in for a hug. He hugged back hard, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You heard him take a few shaky breaths before he pulled back, wiping at his eyes.
“I’m sorry…”
“Don’t ever apologize for vulnerability. Least not to me, cause I know exactly how you’re feeling and it’s okay. I promise,” you reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.
He smiled at you, trying to hold back from letting any more tears fall.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing, Ted. I do want you to try going back to doctor Sharon, though. She’s a good woman.”
He nodded, glancing at where your hand still held his own. He squeezed it again, then left you to get back to your work. You sat for a while, unable to focus on anything but what he’d told you. You hoped like hell he had really listened to you.
It wasn’t until the next day that you’d found he’d both listened to and simultaneously completely ignored you. You were walking down the hall from the office when you saw him.
“Hey,” you called out to him, both hands on his chest to stop him from moving when you got close enough. “Your appointment is supposed to be right now. What happened to—”
“I can’t do it.”
He grabbed one of your wrists, trying to move you. You refused to budge.
“No. Uh-uh. Why did you leave?”
“I’m not talking to someone who’s only there cause she’s paid.”
You raised a brow. “Excuse me, Lasso. Are you not getting paid to do your job?”
He huffed out a sigh.
“Don’t you get attitude with me,” you dropped your hands, but didn’t move from where you stood. “I gotta go, but you’re trying again tomorrow, you hear me?”
“Y/N—”
“You’re going. Non-negotiable.”
He dropped his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll try.”
You nodded once, a smile of victory on your face. “And by the way, I think Keeley’s smoking in the boot room. Might wanna see what that’s about, yeah?”
He tilted his head, a chuckle leaving him. You patted him on the shoulder as you passed to leave the building.
Your day from then on was a long one. You were running around with Beard for part of it, trying to work on strategy for the upcoming game against Man City. The whole Richmond team was on edge, and you were beginning to worry that the nervousness alone might end up being the end-all to the game. You were a firm believer that winning had as much to do with the power of the mind as the power of the body. If they were going in thinking they were going to lose— lose they would.
“That’s a little dramatic,” Beard said over his beer.
You rolled your eyes, sipping at your drink.
“It’s not. Same line of thinking as Ted’s ‘Believe’ sign. I’m just being a little more explicit about what I mean when I say it.”
He chuckled. “You two are more alike than I think you even realize, you know?”
“I think I realize.”
“Do you?”
You shrugged, nodding slightly.
“Both crazy about this team, and even more crazy about you,” you teased, flicking at the brim of his hat.
He hid a smile behind his glass. “Your never-ending optimism and knack for flattery is also pretty similar.”
You hummed in agreement. “Can’t argue with ya, there.”
“So, what do you think we should do, then?”
You shrugged. “Find some way to cheer up the team. Get them excited for the game rather than scared of losing.”
He nodded, brows raised. “Any way of implementing that?”
“I’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” You leaned back. “Remember that game against Kansas State? Our boys were so freaked about it all, then Ted did his thing and got them so excited to play…”
“Beat their asses.”
“Yeah, we did.”
You both went in for a quick high five before continuing.
“Remember how he did it?”
“Told ‘em they needed to loosen up. We had a dance party and ordered pizza.”
You smiled. “Yep. What do you say we make something like that happen again? Day before we travel, let’s do it.”
He smirked, a brow raised. “Sounds perfect. You gonna tell Ted?”
You shrugged. “I think he could use the surprise just as much as the players.”
He narrowed his eyes at you.
You put your hands up. “What’s that look about?”
He just shook his head silently.
“I’m not treating him any different.”
He raised a brow, sipping at his drink again.
“Ted’s been going through it lately, I just think he needs a little cheer up. Nothing else.”
He set down his drink, then sat up straight, eyes still trained on you.
“Quit lecturing me, Beard,” you chuckled. “I know you always think I have some thing for him, but why can’t it just be that I care about people, huh?”
“I see through it.”
You paused for a moment. “I hate that.”
He smirked, and you both finished eating.
You went home yourself, denying a walk-back from Beard. You appreciated the gesture, but the air was beginning to feel thick and suffocating. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like that.
As much as you tried pretending like the state of the team wasn’t affecting you, you knew that trying to be the fixer for this situation was weighing on you. More than you thought it would.
You tried swallowing, feeling your throat pretending to swell just to spite you. You rushed even faster towards your flat, feeling that the oncoming attack wasn’t going to be so routine.
As soon as you were in your door, your knees hit the floor, head between your arms on the carpet. You tried to control your breathing, but it was no use. Tears fell, though you’d hardly noticed as you’d refused to open your eyes. The bleariness you were bound to find if you opened them would only make the situation worse. You began to worry about passing out if you couldn’t control your breathing, and decided to roll yourself onto your side, whole body pushing through tremors you hadn’t felt in a few months, at least.
The ringing of your phone didn’t aid your situation. You desperately hoped it wasn’t an emergency, because there was no way you’d be able to make it over to where you’d dropped your purse. But, it kept ringing. Four separate calls over the span of probably half an hour.
It was another good half an hour after the calls had stopped before you were composed enough to open your eyes, and pull yourself into a sitting position on the ground. Though, you wouldn’t have known. Time never seemed to make any sense in those situations.
You worked on breathing in and out slowly, wiping away at any remaining tears. The shaking hadn’t yet ceased, but at least that was manageable. Right as you started trying to stand, you heard the loud buzzing of someone asking to be let in. You made it over, asking who was there.
“It’s me. Are you okay?” Ted’s voice came through.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Hang on,” you said, letting him in.
It wasn’t long before a knock was at the door, and you wished he wasn’t so quick. No amount of post-panic-primping in a fifteen-second slot could make you look presentable enough to get past him. You opened the door, putting on a smile and hoping he would be too preoccupied with something else to look directly at you for too long.
His face dropped the second he saw you, of course.
“What’s wrong?”
You shook your head. “I’m okay.”
He walked in, leaving you to close the door and follow him.
“No way, McConaughey. You can’t hide tears from me, I got eagle eyes for that sort of thing.”
You crossed your arms. “I’ve just had a long night.”
He watched you for a moment, picking up on the fact that you wouldn’t be sharing any time soon. He nodded slowly.
“Okay, that’s fine. If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s okay,” he smiled softly, then wrapped you in a tight hug.
You welcomed it, arms wrapping around his middle, head buried in his chest.
“You were honest with me,” you started after a moment, “so, I guess I should be with you. I just came down from a pretty bad panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, hardly made it home… I just—”
“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing your back as he spoke. “We don’t have to talk about details. Thank you for telling me.”
You nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
“You always answer when I call. I knew something had to be up.”
“What if I was just in the shower?”
“You still always call me back right away. I had over an hour of radio silence from you.”
You chuckled. “I didn’t know you had it down to such a science.”
He laughed back, pulling away from you just enough to see your face.
“There she is,” he said, a smile on his face.
“And she is a mess.”
“We all get a little messy sometimes, though, don’t we?”
You nodded. “Gotta agree with that.”
He looked at you for a moment or two with a soft smile on his face, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, especially since Beard was also on your ass about it, that was the moment you knew. You felt your heart rate pick up, and didn’t know what to do but escape. You stepped back, leaving him looking a little confused.
“I think I need some sleep, Ted.”
His eyes were wide, looking at you. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need time alone, now. I need rest.”
“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Uh, alright, well I will see you tomorrow bright and early, right?”
You nodded, giving him a quick smile.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
You shook your head. “No. I’m okay.”
He nodded again, watching you with those big, worried eyes. You wished he would stop with that. He waved a quick goodbye, leaving you alone.
You settled into bed, though you were unable to sleep. You couldn’t stop thinking about the team. Or Ted. Or the fact that you couldn’t help but self-sabotage any chance you got. You wiped away a few stray tears, and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take over soon.
You woke up from a couple hours of sleep to a text. Of course, from Ted.
- Excited to see you today for coaches meeting :) I’m proud of you
You sighed, setting your phone down next to you. The guy didn’t seem to have a single mean bone in his body, and here you were wallowing in the fact that you couldn’t help but feel like you brought down everyone around you. As much as you tried to remain positive in every situation, you knew your mood affected the people around you whenever you were a little down in the dumps. You got up, hoping you could at least try to disguise it as well as possible for the day. At least for the morning.
You stopped to get coffee on the way in, delivering each drink with a smile. You sat next to Ted to watch the tapes, giving him the most convincing smile you could.
“You seem better today,” he said quietly, a smile on his face.
You nodded. “Yeah.”
The next few days you were preoccupied with setting up the party for the team, and luckily it kept you busy enough to not fall back into the hole you’d had to crawl out of. If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your ability to pull yourself out of the hardest places. Maybe it wasn’t always through the best methods, but you figured that doing what you needed to was working just fine. If it ain’t broke, after all.
“Howdy, howdy!” Ted chimed, walking in.
You shut your laptop quickly, still taking pride in the fact that you were successfully keeping the event from him.
He quirked a brow, nodding towards your laptop. “What’s that about?”
“Nothing you need to worry about right now. What’s up?”
He rubbed his hands together, leaning against your desk with a cheesy grin.
“Guess.”
“You got another jar of barbecue sauce?”
He laughed. “Yes, actually, but that’s not what this is all about, buttercup. It’s about you.”
You furrowed your brow. “What?”
“Well, kinda,” he said with a light chuckle. “I’ve been seeing the doc a lot more frequently, now.”
You lit up. “Oh, I’m so proud of you!”
“You’ll be even more proud in a second. Get this, she actually said that she’s glad me and you are friends.”
You crinkled your nose, laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I told her about all of your help over the past few sessions, and she told me to tell you, little lady, that I am lucky to have you.”
He nudged your shoulder as he ended the sentence, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice how you tried hiding a smile.
You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he finished out by saying, “I gotta say, I agree with her.”
“In that case, you’re welcome.”
He smiled again, hopping up to sit on your desk. “So, what are you up to?”
“You’ll find out later. Later today, actually.”
He raised his brows. “Oh yeah?”
You nodded, “Mhm. I really think you’re gonna love it, too.”
He gasped, “Did you get me those funky shoes from Gucci I showed you the other day?”
“What?” You scrunched up your face. “No, of course not. Those things were horrible.”
He paused, as if to say something, before raising his brows and nodding in agreement.
“Okay, so what is it?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”
He dropped his shoulders. “Aw, come on. Telling me you have a surprise and not saying what it is… That’s worse than telling your dog you’re going on a walk then leaving him home.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You’re right, that’s just evil. But you know I like to know things.”
You reached over, patting his knee. “I know, but I think you can survive til after practice.”
“Training,” he corrected.
“Ted, we’re both American. You don’t need to adjust your language with me.”
“See, that’s why I love talking to you,” he laughed, poking at your shoulder.
You shook your head, “Okay, now get out of here so I can finish up.”
“I’ll see you at practice, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, looking a little too pleased with himself for switching up his terminology.
You laughed. “See you there, coach.”
Beard walked in a while later, looking at you expectantly.
“Yes, I’m almost ready. Pizza will be here about ten minutes before we’re done, so I’ll excuse myself a little early, and I’ve got Keeley and Higgins doing some decorating in the locker room while we’re out.”
“You know my favorite thing about you?” He asked as he sat down in his seat.
“Fact that you don’t have to actually say anything to talk to me?”
He smirked, nodding. “Exactly.”
You both laughed, then sat back and waited for the boys to make it to the locker room. Ted came in, a big smile on his face as he did.
“Hey, there are two of my favorite people on this whole planet!”
“Still not telling you,” you said, giving a glance at Beard.
He only shook his head, going back to his book.
“Hey!” Ted exclaimed, pointing to Beard. “You know, too?”
“Know what?” Nate asked as he walked in.
You kept talking, “Keeley and Higgins, too. Oh, and Rebecca, actually, but she can’t be a part of it today.”
Ted glared at you as he went to his desk chair, Roy coming in behind him as he did.
“You talking about what Keeley told me she can’t tell me about?”
“Yep,” you responded, leaning back in your seat.
He grunted in response, arms crossing over his chest. You all worked on the game plan for ‘training’, then headed out with the team to get started on the last home practice before the big game. You knew nerves were high the whole time, and were all the more focused on making sure your little pizza party was a relief for everyone. You excused yourself to bring in the pizzas with your two accomplices, and then waited outside the door until the team came barging in. You heard shouts of approval from them all as they saw the decor and food, smiling as the work you’d done was starting to prove to be a good idea. Beard and Ted wandered in a moment after the last boy was in the locker room, a smile on Ted’s face as he heard them all.
“This the surprise?” He asked as he approached you.
You smiled, nodding. Beard moved past you to enter.
“Remember Kansas State?”
He raised his brows, smile only growing. “You didn’t.”
You nodded once more. “I did.”
He scooped you up in a hug, spinning you around.
“You are the best,” he said, setting you back down with a kiss to your cheek. Luckily, the smile on your face could easily be chalked up to the surprise paying off rather than the show of intimacy from your friend. “Well, come on, let’s shake a leg so I can shake some booty.”
You laughed at that, following behind him into the chaos.
“Hey!” He called out to everyone. “Y’all say thank you to Y/N for all this.”
A chorus of ‘thank you’s erupted, and you laughed as Ted pulled you into his side.
“Couldn’t have done it without Keeley and Higgins, y’all. They did all the decorating, I just recycled an old idea of coach, here.”
The team chuckled, then went back to celebrating as the music started.
He looked to you, eyes narrowed. “You’re being way too modest. This happened cause you put your heart and soul into this team.”
“I learned from the best, Lasso.”
He looked at you quietly, a small smile on his face, then shook his head. He pulled you into the small crowd, and you all spent the next couple hours letting loose before you had to check in with reality again.
The party seemed to have helped. Morale was up as you prepared for the game, and at minimum you knew that even if you still lost, they likely wouldn’t take it quite as hard. That helped your conscience, if anything.
One more thing that took a weight off of your shoulders was what happened before the game even started. Ted told the other coaches about his struggles with anxiety before the game. He came clean about it all, and you knew he felt good about finally letting it go to them. As the others started walking out, you held him back, making sure he knew just how proud of him you were.
“I wish I had your confidence.”
He patted your back. “But, you also love your privacy. That’s okay, you know? You also do a much better job holding it down than I do when it comes to this type of thing.”
You swallowed. “I’m not so sure about that. I know how to cope the best way I can, but I think it’s much more brave that you decided to open up to them about this.”
“Hey, don’t be hard on yourself about this,” he said, a hand on your shoulder. “Besides, I’m only doing okay right now cause I’m seeing the doc so often.”
“You saying I need to see someone about this?”
He shook his head. “No. You helped me realize that, for me, going to see her was what I needed. I hope in some way I can help you realize that you should do whatever is best for you. We’re all different people with different experiences, right?”
“Right. Thanks, Ted.”
You sighed. Leaning into his side for a moment, then broke away, clapping once.
“Okay, now let’s go win this.”
The game was lost, but everyone moved past it. You knew most of that was because of Ted and his affection for the goldfish attitude, though he tried like anything to convince you they wouldn’t be feeling so okay if it wasn’t for the little morale boost you’d given everyone before it all started.
He’d also inadvertently managed to convince you to see Dr. Fieldstone.
You knocked on her door, and she looked up from her seat to see you staring at her with a smile from the doorway.
“Come on in, coach,” she said, gesturing at the chair in front of her.
You nodded, looking around the room as you sat. You noted the little bird next to you, tapping it just enough to get it going.
“I like your decorations,” you said with a smile, then looked back at her. “Also, please call me Y/N. I hardly let the boys get away with calling me coach outside of games.”
She smiled. “I see.”
“So, uh, it’s good to finally talk with you. I know we’ve seen one another in passing a few times, but I’ve been exceptionally busy lately or else I would have come and given a proper hello. I really appreciate all of the work you’ve been doing with the team. You seem like a very kind, compassionate woman. I’m happy to have you here, honestly.”
She just watched as you talked, a light grin on her face as you did, though most of the humor rested in her eyes.
You paused for just a moment, though when she didn’t speak up, you took it as an invitation to keep going.
“Uh, so, I’m not really sure how this goes. I’ve only been to see a therapist once before and it didn’t go great. Though, I promise I won’t hold it against you. I’ve just learned how to cope on my own after that experience, but Ted kind of convinced me to try to find what would work best for me moving forward, and I thought—”
“I see why you two are so close,” she chuckled. “I feel as though I know you already.”
Your brows raised. “Really? How so?”
“Well, between how talkative you’ve become now that you’re nervous, and the fact that I’ve heard quite a lot about you in general, I’d say I have an idea of who you are.”
You let out a quick laugh. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I get kind of chatterbox-y when I talk to someone new.”
“Or when you get nervous, yeah?”
You nodded slowly, looking down for a moment. “Yeah. That, too. Guess it kinda goes hand-in-hand with some of my anxiety business, huh?”
She shrugged, though gave you a look that implied she’d agreed with your statement. You smirked, as did she.
“You said you’ve seen a therapist once before?”
You nodded. “Yes, but it didn’t seem to help. They hardly listened to me, and then told me that maybe exercising and breathing exercises would help. Gave me that advice four sessions in a row without really ever caring to know why I was dealing with panic and anxiety and everything else.”
She raised a brow. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Now, I know you might not be able to trust me—”
“Oh, no. I totally trust you, Doc. I’ve seen how great you’ve been with the team, and I learned from a good friend a long time ago that everyone has a different story. You don’t deserve to be compared like that.”
Her brows really shot up with that being said. She nodded slowly, writing something down as she did.
“Well, thank you for that. That was kind of you to say.”
You smiled at her. “I appreciate you. Really.”
“This need to reassure the people around you, do you think that might have anything to do with what you’re struggling with?”
Your eyes widened, almost shocked at the statement. You understood now how she’d made so much progress with Ted. You continued talking about what you needed to, but the session was coming to a close quickly.
“Uh, one more thing, doc?”
“Yes, Y/N?”
“Thanks for what you said about me to Ted.”
She quirked a brow. “And what was that?”
“You told him I was good for him.”
“You are,” she said, nodding. “I think the both of you need to be reminded that you don’t always have to turn on the personality for someone to love you. I think you do that well. Both of you.”
You chuckled. “You… Are one wise woman, Dr. Sharon.”
She laughed. “I am pretty great at my job.”
“Well, thank you again,” you said, starting to walk towards the door.
“Y/N,” she called out, and you turned. “Try to remember that the whole world isn’t on your shoulders, yeah? You believe everyone deserves to know love and comfort, but you are one of those people, too.”
You nodded, taking in a deep breath, then said your goodbyes. You pulled out your phone as you left her office. Being the last appointment for the day, you knew most people had already gone home, but you felt like getting some food. You dialed Ted’s number and waited expectantly, heading towards the door.
He answered, but didn’t speak.
You furrowed your brow, exiting the building.
“Ted?” You asked, waiting for a reply.
His voice came through, shaky and nervous-sounding. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Whoa, hold on, what’s up with you?”
“I— I’m kind of…” he trailed off, taking in a hard breath.
“Are you at home?”
You started walking more quickly, heading towards his flat.
“Yeah.”
“I’m coming to you, okay?”
You heard a sniffle on the other end, and a weak ‘okay’ in response. You hung up, and practically ran the rest of the way there. He buzzed you in, and you were up the stairs, bursting into his apartment in no time. He was sitting on his couch in his undershirt and khakis, clearly having been in the middle of undressing when he got hit with whatever ailed him.
You rushed over to the couch, standing next to him. He looked up at you, still crying.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked softly, reaching over to touch his arm.
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Can I hug you?”
He nodded quickly, standing up and clinging to you like a child. You held him, hands rubbing up and down his back as he cried, head shaking every so often, disagreeing with the thoughts in his own head.
“I can’t even…” he trailed, mumbling against your shoulder.
“What is it, hun?” You asked, still trying to calm him as much as possible.
“Am I a shitty dad? I don’t—”
“No, no. Of course you aren’t.”
“I can’t even pick up my son from a sleepover. He had a nightmare and wanted to go home and I couldn’t be there for him,” he turned his head, cheek against your shoulder now.
You reached up to run your nails through his hair. “You’re like the best dad I could think of. Even thousands of miles apart, you spend more time talking to your kid than I ever got with my dad in the same house. He knows you love him.”
“I quit on his mom. I’m not supposed to be a quitter.”
“You didn’t quit. You didn’t forfeit. Game time was up, the match was over. Nothing you could do at that point, Ted.”
He sniffled, then nodded. “You really think so?”
“You were both fighting so long for something that only hurt the both of you. It was coming to an end naturally. You just finally had the strength to let it end, even though it was hard.”
He nodded again, and fell silent for a few minutes, still holding on to you for dear life.
“Ted?” You asked.
He hummed in question.
“Can I get you some water? I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”
“Yeah,” he said, then let you go, sitting back on the couch.
You filled up a glass from the tap, handing it to him and kneeling in front of him. He drank some, then handed the glass back to you to set down on the coffee table.
“Good, thank you for drinking some,” you smiled.
He laughed humorlessly. “I’m a child.”
“You just need to be cared for a little bit right now. I know stuff like this is all new to you still, I don’t think being comforted and coddled a little is gonna hurt all that much.”
He smirked. “I guess not. Thank you. For coming here.”
You stood, going to sit next to him.
“It’s nothing. You’d do the same for me. Heck, you kind of have already, you just didn’t have to witness the crying part.”
He chuckled. “That’s… Embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not embarrassing at all,” you said, then leaned back into the cushions. “You feel like food?”
“I don’t know if going out right now—”
“I was going to order in. Thought we could watch tv or a movie or something and hang out for a while.”
He looked to you with a soft smile, nodding.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
The next day, you woke up feeling better than you had in a while. You felt well rested, and even went to pick up coffee for everyone despite it not being a film-watching day. You made your way to the office, though you found it much more somber than you were expecting.
“Whoa,” you started as everyone watched you walk in with the tray of drinks. “Who died?”
Apparently that was a poorly timed question.
You showed up at the funeral, heading right to Rebecca for a hug.
“Hi, love,” you said, squeezing her a little tighter than normal. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m alright.”
You pulled back, giving her a smile. “For what it’s worth, you look hot.”
She laughed, “Charming as always, my friend.”
“It’s what I do best.”
You heard the squeal of Keeley before you saw her.
“You look gorgeous!” She said as she hugged you.
“Babe, it’s a funeral.”
“Still look hot,” she said with a grin before moving on to Rebecca.
You gave a quick hello to Roy.
“She’s… Weird about funerals.”
You nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll be back. Ted was supposed to be here before me and isn’t picking up his phone now.”
Roy furrowed his brow. “Really? I’m shocked you didn’t come together.”
You tilted your head. “Why would we?”
“You realize how fuckin’ obvious you are?”
Your face dropped. “Nothing’s happening, Roy.”
He grunted with a shake of his head, and you headed off away from people to try giving Ted another call.
Still no answer.
When it hit his answering machine, you decided to leave it and send a text instead.
- hey, are you okay? i’m at the funeral now. if you show up, i’ll be in the back row waiting for you. if not, i’m coming to you as soon as we’re out of here
You shoved your phone back into your purse, making sure to leave it on vibrate in case he called back. Getting through the day was already hard, and you knew your anxiety was likely going to be more of a when-than-if kind of situation. It only built with the fact that Ted wasn’t getting back to you. You felt like everything was dragging on forever, and it wasn’t until Rebecca was struggling to find the right words in her eulogy that he came in. He sat next to you, squeezing your knee lightly to reassure you as he did, and you gave him a soft smile. Something was off, but even then he had the ability to comfort Rebecca all the way from the back row, continuing to sing the song she’d begun. And, of course, everyone else couldn’t help but join in.
You walked with him to the repast, and took that as an opportunity to ask him about what was going on.
“Ted?”
“Yeah?”
You fell quiet for a moment, unsure of where to start. He started for you.
“If you’re wondering, it was anxiety again. I’m sorry I didn’t respond…”
“Did you at least reach out to Dr. Sharon?”
“Yes.”
You smiled at him. “Okay, I’m glad. Proud of you.”
He smirked, then looked around the neighborhood for a moment.
“Uh, we talked about my dad.”
Your eyes widened. He’d hardly ever talked to you about what happened because he could never get through without crying.
“Wow. Are you okay? I know that’s always really hard for you…”
“She helped me see the good in him again, you know? I was always so angry with him for leaving us, but he did more than leave us. He was…” He trailed off with a shaky breath. You reached over, taking his hand, and he held onto yours firmly. “He was a great dad. She helped me remember that.”
“I’m happy you could talk to her about it, Ted. Seriously.”
He nodded, one hand going up to wipe at his eyes. “I guess it just hit me thinking about today…”
“I know. I’ve been pretty on edge today, too.”
“Are you okay?” He rushed out, looking at you.
You nodded with a smile, “Much better now that I know you are.”
He squeezed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You tried to stave off the sick feeling in your stomach telling you to run the other way. You wished you could just enjoy a nice moment with him, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty somehow. He was too good for most people, and you considered yourself one of the ones he was too good for. You let it happen for a few seconds longer before you pulled away, pretending like you needed to check your phone in your purse.
“Get a message?” He asked after a moment.
“Uh, I thought I felt it vibrate. Guess not,” you chuckled a little.
He nodded quietly, shoving hands back in his coat pockets. You walked silently side by side until you reached the house, walking inside and beginning to mingle with some of the other guests there. You felt anxiety building, but tried putting it off. You couldn’t tell why it was getting worse and worse, but it was. Your pulse kept speeding no matter how easy you tried taking it.
But, you knew it was about to get way worse when you were suddenly being pulled away from Ted by Beard as a woman approached him. He watched after you with eyes wide for a moment before he turned to her, and you furrowed your brow at Beard when he deposited you in a different room.
“The hell was that about?” You snapped.
Immediately, you knew you needed to get away. It was hard enough feeling anxious, but the last thing you wanted was for your feelings to manifest as anger. But, manifest they did.
“You said you didn’t feel anything for him like that,” he said, testing you.
You scoffed. “Now is not the time, Beard. Who was that, anyways?”
“Remember the name, ‘Sassy’?”
Your stomach dropped, and you could swear the air had just gotten thinner.
“Seriously?”
He shrugged, a little smug. You let out a hard breath, beginning to walk away.
“You said—”
You whipped around. “Cut the shit, Beard. It’s none of your business.”
Eyes fell on you, and the barely contained attack was coming into swing. You started walking towards the back door and into the fresh air, hoping you could contain it all until you could get out of there and go home.
The door opened only a moment later, and you turned to find Beard staring at you.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that, I just—”
“You have feelings for him. I know you do.” He shrugged, coming to stand next to you. “What I don’t know is what’s wrong besides that.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
You looked down to see your hands shaking hard as you grasped your arms.
“I—,” you felt tears prick your eyes, and looked away. “I can’t fucking tell him. I’ve known him for years, do you have any clue how shitty it’d be to drop something like that on him? Besides, clearly he’s having fun with…”
You stopped, unable to even say another person’s name.
“The doc told me I self-sabotage, but I don’t think this is that. Is it wrong to want him to be happy? I don’t think I’m the bad guy for that.”
“Nobody said you were.”
“Nobody needs to. I’m a fucking mess. I have no right being upset that he’s happy. I’m a piece of shit,” you whispered at the end, closing your eyes. “I— I need to get out of here. I gotta go, I’m sorry.”
You felt your chest heave, trying to get in air through the invisible smoke that surrounded your head. There was no escaping it, now.
Beard reached out for you, but you already started leaving. He called your name, but you couldn’t handle facing him.
“If anyone asks, please just say I got sick,” you said, back still turned to him.
He sighed, watching as you walked away, holding onto yourself as if you might crumble otherwise. He was worried you actually would, but knew you’d only get more pissed if he tried following you now.
You stumbled along the street, not really sure where you planned on ending up. The closest location was on Nelson Road, so that’s where you found yourself after it all, sinking onto the floor of the office and letting all hell break loose. It was bad enough with how you’d been feeling today, but coupling it all with how ridiculous you felt over being angry that someone else had his attention… That was the thing that nearly pushed you over the edge. Crying and shaking led to dry heaving, dry heaving led to darn near passing out, and that all led to sitting on the ground for who knows how long. You’d always been able to pull yourself out eventually, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to this time.
If people really believed that hope kills, you wished they never had to know what being completely hopeless felt like.
Pretending like you weren’t ever affected by the things that hurt you could only get you so far, and now you were feeling the hard edge of realization that being hit by the things that pained you all at once was so much worse than dealing with it little by little.
Now, a room full of people had seen you crack, too. They all saw through it. The jig was up in a small way that felt huge. Your cover-up act was all you had sometimes, and you couldn’t afford to lose it all because you couldn’t handle seeing Ted with another person, or deal with your emotions before they blew up in your face.
You sobbed, unsure of how you were still awake with how much air escaped you and how little you were taking in. You almost wished you would just pass out for a few hours. Just to escape for a moment.
You heard footsteps fall heavy and quickly down the ball, and it only worsened your panic. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were cemented to the ground, a crying, shaky mess.
“Oh, thank goodness,” you heard a voice that sounded far away, then felt a pair of arms scoop you up and hold you tightly against them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
You couldn’t stop yourself this time, and just let yourself cry. Ted tried moving your hands away from your face, but you refused to budge.
“Sweetpea, I need to know you’re okay. Can you breathe with me?”
His voice was more clear now, and you heard a tone in it you almost never did.
“Please,” he whispered, and now you knew why he sounded different.
Tears fell against your bare legs, and they weren’t your own.
“Breathe with me, come on,” he coaxed, and you tried your hardest to obey his request.
Once your breathing calmed, you were able to move your hands, though you refused to look up. He pulled you into his lap from where he sat next to you, hands holding you tighter than they ever had before.
“You really scared me,” he said, quiet.
You took in another breath, face against his neck.
“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be here.”
“What?” He asked, hands gripping you a little tighter. “What do you mean?”
You shook your head. “I’m a mess. You’re supposed to be out having fun.”
He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.
“Why did you…” He huffed out a breath. “I ran to your apartment. Then all your favorite restaurants. I went down all the streets I thought you might have taken, and finally I ended up here. I didn’t know where else to look.”
“Why were you looking?”
“I asked Beard where you were and he said you got sick. You were already not doing so hot, and I knew that was a lie”
“You have better things to be doing right now, Ted.”
“Nothing is more important than being here right now. Nothing. Do you understand me?”
He was taking a harsher tone with you than you were used to. You took a chance and looked up at him to find him in disarray. His tie and jacket were discarded, and his hair was kind of a mess.
“Don’t ever do that again. Please. At least tell someone where you’re going.”
You nodded, taking in the deep worry lines in his face.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“Don’t apologize for that, I just— I was scared.”
You swallowed. “I’m— I’ll be fine. Why don’t you go see your lady friend now.”
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“I know Beard pulled us away from you two for a reason, Ted. You deserve to be happy. Please don’t let me get in the way of that.”
He raised his brows. “You’re not in the way of anything.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No. You’re not,” he shook his head. “Do you want to know something?”
You sniffed. “What?”
He stroked your cheek with his thumb, then smiled. “She’s kinda pissed at me anyway.”
“Why?”
He took a moment to lean back against the wall, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping his arms around you so that you wouldn’t be able to scoot away. He chewed at his lip for a moment, then looked at you. You stared back, eyes wide, and mascara running all down your face. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.
Hard as you tried not to, you laughed with him.
“What?”
“Your makeup ran harder than anyone on the team.”
You tried wiping away at it, but he grabbed your hand.
“Quit that.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s kinda cute.”
“Me having a panic attack is cute?”
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but stopped when you laughed.
“I’m kidding. Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”
He let out a breath. “Man, I haven’t been that scared since my mom looked in the shoebox under my bed when I was seventeen.”
You smiled, shaking your head. “You didn’t answer me.”
“What?”
“I asked why she was mad at you.”
He nodded slowly, chewing at his bottom lip.
“Uh, well, when I asked Beard where you were and he said you were sick, she was in the middle of trying to get me to go to her hotel room.”
You felt your stomach sink again, looking away in hopes he wouldn’t catch the shift in your demeanor.
He continued, “I told her I had something more important to do. She didn’t like that a whole lot.”
“You did?”
“Yep.”
You swallowed hard. “So, it is my fault.”
He huffed out a sigh. “Can you quit that? I turned down sex to come sit on the ground with you, and you know what? In any case I would always rather be here with you. Panic attack or not. You could literally just ask me to sit on the ground with you and I would always say yes.”
“Well, that’s just dumb.”
He pulled your head towards his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“You always see right through me like I’m a dang department store window. Now, of all times, is when you decide to just… Not get it.”
You played with the buttons of his dress shirt and quirked a brow.
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“You know, I thought you might get it all the times I asked you to come get dinner or coffee with me. Or maybe every time I come bother you and stick around way longer than I normally would with anyone else— and that’s saying something. I was really hoping you’d get it when we were holding hands on our walk today, but of course not.”
He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back to look at you. You watched him with wide eyes, questioning his intentions and hoping you weren’t somehow still misreading this.
“You gonna make me say it?” He asked with a smile.
“I’d prefer if you did.”
He laughed, shaking his head. He then looked up at the ceiling, trying to search for the right words to say. They must have come to him, because he looked back to you, and simply stared for a minute before he finally started talking.
“You’re one of the kindest people I know. Like, Mr. Rogers reincarnated. You always know how to cheer me up. You always know how to help me, and everyone else in your life, somehow. I think you’re incredible. I think you are so funny and so talented and crazy smart. I even think you’re stupidly gorgeous when you’ve got makeup running all over your cheeks,” he said with a laugh, then continued when he got reassurance from your smiling face. “I’ve been scared to get close to anyone since… Since the divorce. You made it so easy, though. I’ve known you forever, but now— I guess I just realized a few months ago that nobody’s ever been there for me like you. You never tell me I’m too much. You never expect me to be… I don’t know. You don’t ever expect me to be on all the time. I can just be me, good or bad, and you still treat me the same.”
You watched him with a rapidly beating heart. Though, this time, it wasn’t telling you to run. It wanted nothing more than for you to stay right where you were.
“That’s something the Doc told me. That we’re good for each other because of that,” you said quietly.
He nodded. “I know, and she’s right. She helped me realize I had feelings for you. Real feelings.”
You bit your lip, then grinned. “Are you gonna crack a joke any time soon? Because all of this serious from you is becoming a little scary.”
His face lit up, and he laughed. You smiled with him, leaning into him for a hug. He held you close, taking in several deep breaths and enjoying the moment, then kissed your cheek as he pulled back again.
“Uh, so… Is this just gonna be me confessing and you get to sit there and tell me to do a crap ton of Hail Mary’s?”
You smiled. “There’s my Ted.”
His brows raised. “Your Ted, huh?”
You laughed, wiggling out of his grip. He let you, and you stood up, reaching for him. He stood with you, not letting go of your hands.
“You’re not going to let go of my hand to check a nonexistent message again, right?”
You smiled, looking down. “You caught that?”
“I can read you almost as well as you can read me. I knew something was up.”
You shook your head, walking into him and wrapping him in a hug again.
“I see things are a little better now,” Beard said, leaning against the doorframe of the office.
You let go of Ted, turning towards Beard.
“Hey. I’m sorry about—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t be. I was kind of being an ass anyways.”
You gave him a tight lipped smile, nodding a little.
“You two figure out… All that business?” He asked, pointing between the two of you.
Ted smiled, “Yeah, we did.”
“Good.”
He waved and left with that, the two of you alone once more.
Ted grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.
“Let’s go home and maybe… Clean up. We kind of look crazy,” he smiled.
“Can we head to mine first? I want to get out of this dress.”
“Why don’t we just go to mine?”
He raised his brows in question, and you couldn’t help but smile. Now at least you didn’t have to pretend you didn’t think he was adorable.
“I need clothes.”
He quirked a brow. “I think you’d look awfully cute in my clothes.”
You laughed, “Okay, fair enough.”
“Ready to go home, then, sweetpea?”
“Of course.”
#ted lasso fic#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso x reader#ted lasso x y/n#ted lasso fluff#ted lasso angst#ted lasso anxiety#ted lasso#the archer
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A List of Relatable Things Stanisława Przybyszewska has done/written:
Studied philosophy at a university for one semester until "nervous exhaustion forced her to abandon her course"
Dated her letters by the French Revolutionary Calendar
Was known to often be humming La Marseillaise
Called Camille a twink in her play (okay, to be fair she used the word 'ephebe', but I'd argue that is as close to twink as you can get in the 1920s)
Worked at a leftist bookstore (and was subsequently arrested for it)
Took a stray cat from the street which at one point "was the only creature keeping her company"
Complained in at least two letters spanning over 3 paragraphs about a group of loud people playing football near her windows ("For the past forty-five minutes they have not been roaring, they have not been howling, they have been simply shrieking (...) like animals being slaughtered. Screams of that sort must be frightfully tiring for the vocal chords.")
When she wrote "I must write in order to be able to think. As a matter of fact, I am a remarkably unthinking person. Well, of course, that holds true too when I'm talking. But if I don't have either paper, or a human ear to listen to me, then I'm no more of a philosopher than a cat is."
1 + 8 - since I study philosophy at uni & am currently working on my thesis, these felt particularly relatable. I'm not more of a philosopher than a cat is definitely hits. Kind of want to put it in the preface.
2 + 3 are things I may have done myself before (okay, not letters but a diary, but it counts, right?)
7 - as someone who struggles with misophonia, I felt s e e n.
4- I'm sorry guys, I had to. But as someone who frequently asks herself "Are you really calling 30-somethings who have been dead for more than 200 hundred years twinks?", this felt like a vindication of sorts.
Also- I feel kind of conflicted about making this types of Tumblr posts about her since her work is really profound and serious and I have a sneaking suspicion she would have not appreciate them. At the same time, she has been living in my mind rent-free for the past week and this is a way to cope I guess?
SOURCES:
1. A LIFE OF SOLITUDE: STANISŁAWA PRZYBYSZEWSKA
Author(s): JADWIGA KOSICKA and DANIEL C. GEROULD
Source: The Polish Review , 1984, Vol. 29, No. 1/2 (1984), pp. 47-69
2. BBC Reith Lecture Three: Silence Grips the Town. Dame Hilary Mantel, 2017
3. Stanisława Przybyszewska: A Brilliant Playwright Preoccupied With Revolution. Alexis Angulo. Retrieved from: https://culture.pl/en/article/stanislawa-przybyszewska-a-brilliant-playwright-preoccupied-with-revolution
4. Przybyszewska, Stanisława. 1930. The Danton Case.
#french revolution#frev#frev community#stanisława przybyszewska#przybyszewska#the danton case#frev memes#history#literature#also go read the articles they are excellent#but obviously incredibly sad#camille desmoulins#20th century literature#misophonia#1700s#maximilien robespierre#georges danton#academia#it actually took effort not to put “daddy issues” on there#I guess it's now in the tags#oops#hall of fame
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Everybody Hurts
Chapter 7
Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader
Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.
18+ Only for eventual smut
Next chapter: 10/11
Word Count: 5.7K
Masterlist
1 2 3 4 5 6
Posting today because my daughter's birthday is tomorrow. We have family coming over right after work and I don't want to forget.
“Hey Lance, can you wait just a moment? I’d like to have a word with you,” you called out as the dismissal bell rang and your class leapt from their seats, backpacks on, ready and eager to get out the door and seize what was left of this beautiful day.
Lance, sandy haired, blue eyed bully that he was trudged toward your desk with clear annoyance on his face. In your eight years of teaching, you had never met a child you didn’t like. Sure, some of them were tougher than others but a lot of times it was simply because they needed some love and attention or they were struggling due to a learning disability and their frustration came out as misbehavior. Sometimes it was a struggle to control their big emotions and they would have to work through various coping strategies, learning the proper way to handle those big feelings raging in their small bodies.
You’d always been good at building relationships with kids, letting them know how much you cared about them, that you were on their side, and you wanted them to do well. You were skilled at getting to the bottom of the behavior so they could be successful whether that meant lunches with you so the kid could talk things out or tutoring after school so they could become proficient with the skills they were missing. It was something you took pride in, the thing you felt was most important about the job you’d chosen.
No. You had never not liked a student before but Lance, he was pushing it. He was so damn hard to like and that made you feel uneasy. It gave you that sick, twisted feeling in your stomach. What kind of teacher didn’t like all of their students? What kind of human didn’t like a child? Because that was what he was at the end of the day. Yes, he was mean. He was a bully. But he was still just a boy and you couldn’t stop trying to reach him no matter if it felt like slamming your head against a wall.
“Yeah Ms. Campbell?” he asked, his tone meant to convey to you that he was bored with this conversation already and would like nothing more than to be done with it so he could leave. “Whatever it is, you better hurry. My dad is going to be waiting for me outside and he’s going to be mad if I’m not out there.”
“I am sure Mr. Johnson will understand that I needed a minute to talk to you,” you assured him, but you weren’t actually sure of that.
Mr. Johnson seemed to think his time was far more valuable than anyone else’s as evidenced by the way he kept glancing at his watch last month when you’d met about Lance’s behavior that hadn’t yet changed. It was apparent in the way he’d dismissed his behavior as just ‘boys will be boys.’ The very reminder of that conversation made you cringe. There was nothing worse than a father who wanted to perpetuate the stereotype that cruelty and violence were okay, that being a boy was a valid excuse for being a bully.
“You know, we have talked multiple times about the way you speak to and treat Charlie. It’s unacceptable, Lance. This classroom is a safe space for every child who walks through that door and you’re not making this a safe space for him.”
“Why should I?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Charlie’s nothing but a freak and everyone knows it.”
As soon as he said that word, you felt your face flush hot with anger. It was like a volcano buried in the depths of your soul was suddenly brought to the surface, threatening to erupt all over this child. Eddie’s face as he spat that word, as he stated that was how the whole town saw him, flashed before your eyes and you had to remind yourself that you were speaking to a nine year old. This kid was not speaking about Eddie but you refused to allow another child to grow up with the same tormented look in their eyes, the same armor coating them to keep them safe from the hateful words spat by ignorant people.
You closed your eyes, inhaling slowly while mentally counting to ten. You had never raised your voice at a student before and you had no intention of starting now, no matter how frustrating Lance was. You were the adult here and you were going to act like it. You were not going to lose your temper no matter how badly you wanted to. Opening your eyes, you plastered a smile on your face, folded your hands on your desk, and decided to try again.
“Lance, that is not a kind word and it is not one that I want to hear in my classroom ever again. Just because someone is different from you does not make them a freak. Charlie has the right to feel comfortable in his learning space and I will not have you making him uncomfortable anymore. If you continue to do so, then I am afraid that I will have to…”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t dress like that and maybe he should cut his hair if he doesn’t want people calling him a freak. He brings it on himself,” snorted Lance, cutting you off. “My dad says freaks are asking for it. He says we have to put them in their place or they can hurt people like that freak did when he was in high school.”
“What are you talking about?” you asked, completely baffled by this abrupt shift in conversation. Mr. Johnson had to have been in high school at least ten years ago. What did that have to do with the conversation you were having today?
“Eddie Munson,” the boy spat, his eyes flashing with a rage he shouldn’t even be capable of at only nine years old. Rage for a man he couldn’t possibly even know. Rage that made your blood run cold. You’d never seen such hatred in a child’s eyes before.
You were stunned, struggling to process the name this child had just spat out. Eddie hurt people? Sure, he could be a jerk. He could be angry and surly and unpleasant to be around but you couldn’t see him hurting people. It didn’t make any sense and why would a student in your class even know about something like that? Your heart gave a painful tug at the very idea that Eddie was capable of harming another person because it couldn’t be true. What was this kid talking about?
“How do you know Eddie?”
“Everybody in Hawkins knows Eddie. He’s the psycho freak killer who got off without being punished because the chief likes him. He killed my dad’s friends and he never went to jail,” Lance hissed at you, his small fists clenched at his sides, making you feel uneasy in a way you never had before. “Charlie has long hair, he wears shirts with all those satanic bands on them, and he plays that evil game just like Eddie. I’m just making sure he knows that I know exactly what he is and I won’t let him hurt anybody like Eddie did.”
“Killed…no…that can’t be right. Lance, I think you’re confused. You’ve heard things and you twisted them. I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” you insisted.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Lance shot back confidently. “You can ask anyone in this town. Everyone knows what he did. Everyone knows he’s a murderer.”
He snatched up his backpack from the floor and began heading out of the classroom. You couldn’t just let him go but your brain was struggling to form words, to rationalize what you should say, to grasp the enormity of what this kid had just dumped on you. You scrambled, trying to come up with something to turn this around, to make him see that he couldn’t possibly be correct because this couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.
“Lance, we’re not done talking,” you called out finally but he was already gone.
Eddie? Eddie killed people? No. There was no way. Lance had seemed absolutely convinced but could you believe some nine year old who had clearly inherited his dad’s high school grudges? Perhaps he’d just overheard a conversation and misinterpreted the information. Kids did that all the time but the rage and hatred that was on that little boy’s face had been positively terrifying. You were definitely going to need to keep a really close eye on the situation with Charlie.
You’d thought it had been simple childhood antics, a boy who was pushing the limits to see how far he could go or a misunderstood hatred based on lack of personal connection, but this was something far deeper. This was something that had been spurred on by his father who was holding onto an ugly hatred that ran deep. Lance seemed to think he was on a mission to keep the town safe from someone dangerous. He was determined and absolutely convinced that Charlie could become a monster of some kind. It could turn nasty really fast if you weren't careful. You would have to sit down with the principal and let him know what was going on, maybe get the boys to see the counselor together to see if they could work out their issues before something happened that couldn’t be taken back, couldn’t be fixed.
Poor little Charlie. You knew that his dad was in a band. He loved to tell you about sitting in on their practices. He was even learning how to play the drums just like his dad. Music was vital in their home. It was life. That was why he was always wearing heavy metal shirts. He was emulating his dad, like most boys his age, because he adored his dad, idolized him.
His dad also played DnD. You knew this because Charlie loved to talk about his dad and his friends teaching him, about how he was developing his own character and soon they were going to let him sit in on campaigns. It was all he’d talked about at recess earlier, choosing to sit with you instead of running around the playground after Lance had embarrassed him yet again. You’d sent Lance into the office but the damage had been done and Charlie didn’t have the heart to keep on playing like a carefree kid when he was anything but. You were determined to stop this from continuing. You would not watch this sweet child have his spirit shattered by some mean bully.
You despised people who judge others based on how they looked or the things that brought them joy. Jesus, it was just a game, some silly, nerdy game that hurt no one. And who cared what kind of music anyone listened to? Would Mr. Johnson tell his son to put you in your place if he knew you enjoyed listening to heavy metal on occasion? There was nothing that felt better when you were angry than cranking up some head banging riffs and losing yourself in the fury and passion of a metal song. Maybe you should show up to work in your Black Sabbath shirt and see if Lance had anything to say to you, see what Mr. Johnson thought, if he had the guts to bully you.
But this revelation about Eddie had your stomach twisted in knots, nervous you were going to lose the apple and cashews you’d had for afternoon snack. You’d been alone with him twice now. If he was some monster wouldn’t he have tried something? He’d had the perfect opportunity. He’d had you in his van, alone. And yeah, the group knew you were with him after the bonfire but no one had known you were with him a couple days ago when you had gone to look at his uncle’s car. He could have driven you anywhere, done anything he’d wanted to you. He was strong. You hadn’t been able to push him away from your bike. He could have overpowered you easily and played innocent when you were proclaimed missing. If he’d gotten away with it once, why wouldn’t he do it again?
Brown eyes, dark with anger, appeared in your mind, an icy shiver trailing along your spine. But they were quickly replaced with the way they melted when the two of them were talking about music, the way they looked wounded when you’d insisted he hated you, the way they crinkled in the corners when you got that rare smile out of him. You just couldn’t picture that man doing something so awful.
But you didn’t know him, not really. You’d only met him a few days ago so how could you be so sure? And why the hell did it bother you so much to think he wasn’t a good guy? He was just a guy, a guy you’d met through other people, a guy who’d been rude and condescending to you. But he was also a guy who’d driven you home from the lake and waited to make sure you’d gotten in okay, who’d reached out to help you find a car knowing you needed one, who offered to fix it for you. The two sides of him were so contradictory.
The simple answer, the smart solution to all of this, would be to just stay away from him, avoid him completely. No point in taking chances if he could be dangerous. It was what you should be doing anyway but you didn’t want to. And yes, it would make hanging out with the rest of his friends hard, people you’d come to adore already if you refused to be around him, but you also couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing him again. Those dark messy waves, those big doe eyes, those lips that were as plush as a pillow. You couldn’t bear the thought of never making him laugh again, never making that smile break through the storm that was hovering just behind it.
Shit. You had to know what the hell was going on in this damn town. You were so tired of all this cryptic bullshit. You shoved your stuff into your backpack quickly, locked up your classroom, and raced out to your bike. There was some kind of dark secret in this town, skeletons in the closet that haunted this place and your new friends and you were going to figure out what it was.
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You stuffed your bike into the rack and raced up the steps of the Hawkins Library, determined to find answers to the questions that had been bubbling within you since the bonfire. A nagging sensation, like something was just beyond your reach, something you could grab if you could just stretch your arm a bit further consumed you. You felt driven to chase it, to pursue it, to look under every single rock if you had to. Like if you could just find this answer, you could make it all make sense, you could crack the enigma that was Eddie. You could understand what was going on with your new friends, possibly even help them somehow.
“Back again?” asked Marissa, the librarian, glancing up from her desk over those horn rimmed glasses. “Did you already read your books? If you liked them, I would be more than happy to recommend some other reads for you.”
“No, actually, I was wondering if I could have the key to the archives?” you asked carefully, not wanting to make her suspicious. You didn’t know why. You had every right to look in the public archives. That’s what they were there for. “You know, I’m new here and I’m curious about the town. I just wanted to do some research about the local history of this place, have a look at old news articles and stuff? If that’s okay?”
Marissa’s lips pressed together, her eyes glancing down quickly as she removed her glasses, allowing them to rest against her chest as they hung from the chain, “Ahh, so I am guessing you’ve started to hear all the stories, huh?”
“Stories?”
“Well, most people don’t want to comb through the archives of some small, boring town so I assume you have a reason. I am guessing you’ve heard about the murders ten years ago? It was awful. This whole place lost its mind, bunch of vigilantes out in the streets ready to hang that poor Munson kid.” Marissa sighed, shaking her head. “Chief Powell had a difficult time trying to keep everyone in line. There are still people around here who think that kid did it. You know, he was different, not what people in Hawkins could understand so they condemned him immediately, guilty without a trial. But I never believed it. His uncle used to bring him in here when he was younger and he was always sweet as pie to me. He would just devour books. I was always trying to find new things for him. He was hard to resist with those big old brown eyes. He loved fantasy books, anything with dragons and magic and far off places. I think he just needed an escape. Poor thing had a hard time of it, growing up with his dad going to jail and his mom ODing.”
You gasped, the sound far louder than you’d meant it to be, echoing throughout the library. A sudden pain tore at your heart, crushed by those words, every breath feeling like a struggle to fill your lungs completely. That was why he lived with his uncle. No wonder it had been such a sore topic for him. No wonder he’d gotten so angry when you’d asked about it. You ached for that sweet little boy who had been through more pain and trauma at such a young age than most experienced in their entire lifetime but had it made him into a killer?
“So, if you don’t think it was Eddie, who do you think did it?” you asked, your voice wavering on each syllable as you struggled to gain control of your faculties.
Marissa shrugged, “I don’t know for sure. Nobody does. Chief Hopper came back and saved the day. We all thought he’d died in a mall fire the year before but he’d been concussed from the blast when the propane from the gas grills in the restaurants exploded inside. He didn’t know who he was and wandered around, winding up in some other town or something until his memory came back? That’s what we were told anyway. I don’t know. None of it really made sense to me but everyone was so relieved to see him, it didn’t really matter. So anyway, he came back, took back his place as chief, and he cleared the Munson kid within a week. Made a lot of enemies that day, let me tell you. The town is fairly split where Eddie’s concerned. But if you’re asking my opinion, I think it was that Carver kid. He died in the earthquake but he had a gun and threatened poor Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield. I think he lost his damn mind and went on a killing spree. I mean his girlfriend was the first victim which is pretty fishy. And she was found in Eddie’s trailer. I’ve always wondered if her and Eddie had something going on that they were keeping secret and that kid found out about it and just snapped. I’m telling you something was up with that boy but that’s just my opinion. Some people turned that boy into a martyr but I never did like him. He was always a bully, thinking he was so much better than everyone else around here and he made that Munson boy’s life a living hell from the time Eddie moved to Hawkins. Never passed up a chance to throw a cheap shot his way if he could or have that awful Andy hold him down so he could get in a few punches.”
A mall fire? An earthquake in Indiana? A police chief who died but came back with a story of memory loss? A young boy who disappeared, they had a funeral for because they found some other unidentified boy in the quarry, but he came back too? A girl dying from exposure to toxic chemicals? A bunch of unexplained murders? A group of raccoons going rabid enough to attack and leave a man scarred? This was all completely unbelievable, like some movie plot for a government conspiracy story or some teenage dystopian novel about an apocalypse. You needed to get into those archives because none of this was adding up to anything that made any sense.
“But if you want to read about it for yourself, here you go,” Marissa told you, pulling a key off a hook in front of her and holding it out. “Just a bit of warning, the murders were pretty gruesome. The pictures are hard to look at. It was…” She shuddered, closing her eyes against the images she’d brought up for herself. “It was like something out of a horror movie. I don’t know how a human being could do something like that.”
You swallowed hard, squeaking out a small thank you as you took the keys from Marissa. As you made your way down into the basement you began to second guess yourself. Was this really a good idea? Maybe ignorance would be better. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. What if what you found was awful? What if what you found gave you no choice but to leave Hawkins and start all over again? To leave the new friends you’d found, the new job you loved, to leave Eddie?
You knew it shouldn’t matter. You barely knew any of these people but you already felt a gaping hole where they should be at the thought of losing any of them. You felt a gnawing ache, a dull pain that stretched across your chest at the idea that you might never actually get through those defenses of Eddie’s because everything in you told you that underneath all of that armor was a guy worth knowing. There was no way all of those people would still hang with him, be loyal, stand by him if he wasn’t. That was why these allegations seemed insane to you.
You looked through the small cards, relieved to find you were alone. You didn’t need anyone else seeing what you were doing and asking questions. You were going to need to use the microfiche. A small town like Hawkins hadn’t quite jumped on the internet bandwagon yet. Big city libraries had them but the internet hadn’t quite made its way everywhere just yet. You and Cam had just gotten a computer before the divorce and having access to all that information had been intoxicating. You’d lost yourself for hours just exploring the world wide web.
Marissa had said the murders happened ten years ago so that would have been 1986. You figured you would start in January and work your way forward. You grabbed all the cards from that year, placed the first one in, and began scrolling through articles, not finding much at first. It was all the normal small town news. Lots of articles about the Hawkins Tigers basketball team having a stellar season. Clearly high school sports were a big deal in this town. There was a headline about a llama loose in the town and how no one seemed to know where it had come from. There was an article about town speed limit signs going missing. Nothing that screamed murder town.
Then you hit the end of March and there it was, Local girl found dead in Forest Hills trailer park. Your eyes moved left to right, devouring the entire article as quickly as you could, hungry and anxious to make some sense out of any of this.
In tragic news, Hawkins High student and beloved cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, was found dead at Forest Hills Trailer Park last night. The police are not releasing any details at this time, saying only that they are investigating and interviewing those close to her. We spoke to Chrissy’s close friend, Becky Jenkins, who was grief stricken at the news.
“Chrissy is, like, the kindest person ever. Everyone loved her. I don’t know who would want to hurt her. Who would do something like this to Chrissy? She’d never hurt anyone. And it doesn’t make sense. Why would she be at that trailer park? She doesn’t hang out with anyone who lives there, none of us do.”
As to why Chrissy was at Forest Hills the night of her murder, that answer remains unclear. A source within the coroner’s office informed us that her murder was quite gruesome. He has never seen anything like this in his career. Her limbs were snapped, her jaw broken, and her eyes had been cut out of her head. With this disturbing news, Hawkins is sounding more like Haddonfield. Could we have our own bogeyman wandering our streets?
You sat back, swallowing down the bile that had collected in your mouth. Limbs snapped? Eyes cut out? Jesus Christ, the person who did this was absolutely sadistic. There was a picture of Chrissy in her cheerleading uniform at a basketball game, a huge smile on her face. She was so pretty. She looked so sweet. Who could possibly do something like that to this girl? Your heart broke at the thought of the life this girl would never get to live, a life cut short, far too short in such a violent way. There was no mention of Eddie. You scrolled through until you came across another headline, another murder.
Another horrifying murder has hit our quiet town. Fred Benson, another Hawkins High student who worked on the school paper, has been brutally slaughtered. Him and another school reporter, Nancy Wheeler, were at Forest Hills trailer park. They informed an officer that they were checking on their friend who lived there, which was why officers let them through the barricade.
At some point later that night, Nancy noticed that Fred had gone missing and informed the officers who had been under the impression that the two teens had already vacated the premises. They began to search for him, finding his body in the middle of the road just outside of the woods. His injuries were identical to those of Chrissy Cunningham’s, limbs snapped, jaw broken, eyes gone. Is it possible our town is becoming the victim of a serial killer who is just beginning their spree of violence?
Nancy’s name jumped out at you from the sea of words on the screen. So Nancy knew one of the victims and had been with him right before he was murdered. Could the friend they were visiting in Forest Hills be Eddie? Still no mention of him in the article. If the police suspected him at this point, they were keeping it close to the vest. You didn’t have to scroll very far to find more. The very next headline was another murder.
Lock your doors and don’t venture out after dark Hawkins residents. It’s official. We have a serial killer loose in Hawkins. The murder of Patrick McKinney makes three in just three days. Police received a frantic call from the home of Rick Lipton, which has been abandoned since the drug dealer was sentenced to time in prison.
Upon their arrival, they found Jason Carver kneeling in the sand, cradling the body of his friend whose injuries were horrifyingly identical to the two previous murders. Mr. Carver told an outlandish story about demon possession, saying his friend floated in the air before his bones snapped and his eyes burst. It leaves this reporter to wonder if the trauma he has experienced with murder of his girlfriend and one of his best friends has caused him to lose touch with reality.
The police are currently looking for Eddie Munson who Jason Carver told them was present at the scene of the crime. He is considered a person of interest and wanted for questioning. It has now been revealed that the body of Chrissy Cunningham was found in his trailer only lending to the suspicion of his involvement in these horrific deaths.
As this town already knows, this would not be Eddie Munson’s first run-in with the law. It has also been brought to our attention that he currently leads a cult, called Hellfire, that he has been initiating young freshmen into. Could he be murdering these victims in some twisted satanic ritual? Chief Powell will be holding a meeting at town hall tonight to answer questions and hopefully shed some light onto this very dark situation.
The chair skid across the floor as you jumped back and up, as if you could distance yourself from this information you wished you didn’t know. Why had you gone digging? Why hadn’t you left it alone? The cheerleader was found in his trailer? Was it the same one you’d sat in, just yesterday, with him and his uncle? Had you been sitting in the same place where a girl had been brutally tortured and murdered? Had you been sitting across from the guy who’d done it?
And what was with this Jason guy saying his friend floated up in the air? Like he just hung up there and his bones broke and his eyes disintegrated without anyone touching him? Was the guy disassociating, losing his mind like the journalist thought? It was possible. That was a lot of loss to process in such a short amount of time, his girlfriend and one of his best friends within days of each other. And not just a death, the most gruesome and horrific death imaginable? Could his mind have twisted what he saw, trying to make it more tolerable? But Marissa had thought Jason was the killer? Was that possible? Was he fabricating stories, planting seeds, to get people’s eyes off him? And what better scapegoat than the guy the town already saw as the outsider?
You inhaled slowly and sat back down. There were more articles and you read every single one, searching for anything that would show Eddie’s innocence. One focused entirely on Eddie, but it wasn’t a positive one, all about the Hellfire Club that he was apparently the leader of. The town appeared to think it was some kind of cult that worshiped Satan and did rituals sacrificing virgins or something.
You flashed back to the eighties, the height of the Satanic Panic that you remembered all too well. Headline after headline about these demon worshiping freaks who played a game that promoted ritual sacrifice, murder, and, gasp, homosexuality. Those poor kids that got accused of that young girl’s murder, just like Eddie. Presumed guilty with no actual proof. People would come up with any kind of bullshit to demonize what they didn’t like or understand. Heaven forbid they actually educate themselves or try to have an ounce of tolerance for anyone who was different from them, who didn’t fit in their little Stepford Wives neighborhoods.
Another article talked about the earthquake that rocked the town shortly after the murders. Massive fissures straight down the middle of the road, the library destroyed, over twenty people dead. It had been believed that Eddie had died in the earthquake but then a month later, there was another article about Chief Hopper’s miraculous return. Quickly following was Eddie’s return from the grave as the Chief cleared his name, claiming Eddie had solid alibis for each of the murders. A lot of people rose from the dead in this place.
There was also an article about Max Mayfield’s miraculous recovery, waking from a coma, after a close call with the Hawkins serial killer. Her broken bones healed after multiple surgeries. She had regained most of her sight but her eyes were forever scarred from the trauma of her close call with a violent madman. That definitely explained the sunglasses that she wore all the time. However, there was no explanation as to how she had escaped this crazed murderer or who it was.
It was like being inside of a tornado, the thoughts swirling violently through your head. Everything was spinning, moving, filing in, but none of it was making any sense. This did not add up. Your brain was working overtime to make all of this information fit into a logical picture but you couldn’t. Had the town of Hawkins really bought this crock of shit? These explanations were weak, full of holes. How had this town just gone on with their lives and accepted these flimsy explanations? You felt like you had more questions than answers.
You knew where she was going to start to find some answers though. Nancy’s name had been right there in bold, black print. She’d been at one of the murder sites. She’d personally known one of the victims. Your new friend knew a lot more than what she was sharing and you intended to find out exactly what that was.
You knew you couldn’t call her tonight. They were all at Eddie’s weekly gig with his band at The Hideout. Max had tried to call you last night to invite you but you’d politely declined, needing a break from him and his constant mood swings. Needing a break from your intensifying feelings for him too. Besides, you were pretty sure he wouldn’t be amused if you showed up. If he’d wanted you there, he would have invited you himself and you weren't holding your breath for that invitation.
But tomorrow after work, you were going to get to the bottom of this. You would show up on Nancy’s doorstep and demand that she tell you what in the hell was going on. You needed answers. You weren't going to rest until you found out exactly what had happened in this town a decade ago. Because one thing was obvious, the events of the past were still haunting this place and the people who lived here today.
Chapter 8
Taglist
@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank
#eddie munson#eddie the banished#stranger things eddie#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x femreader#eddie munson smut#eddie the freak munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#eddie munson series#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson lives#max mayfield#hawkins#ongoing#fluff#angst#smut and fluff#fluff and angst#enemies to friends to lovers#post divorce#falling in love#second chances#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#steve harrington#stranger things 4
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Today was orthotics appointment. It is at hospital I don't like, Dad not like too because bad parking. When we get there, it was very full loud waiting room. So we wait outside the room in the corridor.
The orthotist Kirsty is very nice! With nice accent. It was loud bad place at first with other patients talking loud - even with noise cancelling headphones I struggle and get very anxious but also feel stuck could not stim like I need. I could not hear what Kirsty or Dad said because the other voices noises were louder even with noise cancelling headphones ☹️.
They could see I didn't cope, so she very kindly, look in other quiet room to see if it is empty. (Usually I go to that room). Yes, it is! So we go in there.
Then talk a lot about old AFOs. And Dad show my list of what is not-good about them. She look at my walking with shoes AND without shoes, and examine look at my legs and feet and move about and feel how hypermobile I am. And where my calf muscles is a bit tight.
She agree that my current AFOs don't work. So we try something different new. Dad showed my pictures of what I think might be better for me. So, she say they can do a similar style of rigid plastic AFO on the outside, with an inner "anklet" that is thinner more flexible plastic going around my ankle and over the top of my foot. Then that part will go inside the bigger rigid AFOs. And, I can have better straps that isn't so bulky and too tough to undo by myself. (They will just go once over, instead of through a ring and double back).
Then, she do a SCAN!! Instead of casts this time :D. I have to hold very very still it takes a LOT of concentration and effort. But I did very well. Dad said the shape of my leg showed up slowly on the screen when she did the light scanner in stripes. I didn't see that because I had to concentrate very much to stay still.
They had to stick a wire to the front of my leg for the scanner. And the tape stuck to my leg hair! And ripped some off when I took it off, ouch! But it was okay, not too sore, just mostly funny. Dad joked about is his genetics for the leg hair.
Overall, very successful appointment and it went much better than I expected! I am still very anxious about it all, because we have several attempts already that didn't work. But, Dad says we will keep on trying until we get exactly what works for me.
I always feel overwhelmed and exhausted after appointment. And always feel like I didn't communicate everything I want to - even with prepare with other people and they say things for me, even if I try try try so hard to do words, it just doesn't happen at the time. And I have automatic response to just nod head "yes" at almost everything, even if I didn't process or understand. So I worry that I seem to say "yes" or agree to things that I don't mean. Especially when I know that there was a lot of talking at the appointment that I didn't process at all. I feel so utterly lost all the time - and there is no way to really express how that affects me my whole entire life.
I hate my inability to communicate ☹️☹️. It goes WAY beyond just not able to speak. Even with all the tools and aids and help from other people... majority of the time it is simply near-impossible for me to interact with another person. It is everything about how I interact with everyone, my whole life long. And then I feel like anything that goes wrong or doesn't work is my fault for not able to communicate or explain something.
Anyway. I am knackered now, so time for rest and Celtic Woman DVD 😄. I try not to think about it anymore, just distract. And try to keep hope, but not too much, so I don't get too disappointed.
I have lemonade (Dad quickly go to shop and buy so I can have my usual fizzy drink treat after appointment 😄, thanks Dad!). And I have snack. And DVD. 😊
#words from my head#afos#ankle foot orthotics#leg braces#autism#autistic#medical appointments#hospital#nonverbal#nonspeaking
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I love your 6x04 spec about Lucy's camera being broken and her being investigated! You should totally write a fic about that if you're inspired ✨️
hi anon - thanks for the ask!
So @literali1110 pointed out to me that there were footage from Lucy's camera after the fall, so doesn't look like this is the route they'll go 😂
I do keep circling back on how hesitant Angela and Nyla looked when Lucy made her suggestion, and it makes me wonder if they may end up questioning whether protocol was followed or something instead? Or maybe Lucy will simply struggle with her own feelings of guilt around ending up in that situation because she was trying to prove herself?
I am glad that there's not really any ambiguity about whether she had to take the shot and whether the guy was 100% guilty, because I think it would destroy Lucy if those things were in question.
I'm definitely feeling some angsty inspiration from Lucy's struggle this season; jury's still out on whether it ever becomes anything more than random sentences in my notes app.
Regardless, I'm gonna hijack this ask to ramble a little bit on why I'm actually okay with the choices they've made and the story they are telling for Lucy this season so far. Like a lot of people, I hate seeing Lucy going through a hard time and of course I want to see her be supported. Give me the scene with Tim in the hospital a million times over; I'll never get tired of seeing that she is valued and loved by the people in her life. We honestly haven't gotten enough of that for literal years.
We've seen Lucy go through so much. But in five+ seasons, we've barely seen Lucy be anything other than her sunshine-y self for more than a handful of scenes. Even more so in the last few seasons. It is beyond time the writers take the time to give her character more depth and emotional range. It is beyond time they turn her back into a character that is deeply empathetic and relatable to the audience.
It has sucked seeing more and more commentary on social media the last few seasons about Lucy being childish, silly, unprofessional, and even manipulative 😭. And I think that's a direct result of the lack of care and intention the writers have put into writing her character since she graduated the FTO program. She's been used as little more than comic relief and a plot device outside of the ship for way too long.
Gif Credit @livelovecaliforniadreams
While other characters have progressed professionally, Lucy has remained mostly stagnant since she graduated the FTO program, beyond a few UC missions that all pretty much ended the same way without doing anything progressive for her character (why didn't we see her struggle with the ethics of UC work when it came to using Aaron's puppy? why haven't they helped us understand how she reconciles her love for UC work to her empathetic nature and the reason she became a cop?).
I think of Lucy's journey in comparison to Tim's -- we've seen him go through awful things. We've seen him suffer. We've seen him struggle. We've seen him evolve and grow.
With Lucy, we've mostly just seen her go through awful things and move on as if nothing has changed. We all have our head canons, I think, about grief and coping and what's going on under the surface, but we don't actually know what she's feeling 99% of the time.
Do I wish they would have taken the opportunity to explore the impact on her character in the aftermath of DOD or after Jackson died? Of course I do. I would have preferred that to having to see her struggle professionally in the shadow of Nolan getting handed success for simply existing. (And if I thought they intended the juxtaposition, I'd give them credit for telling a realistic story, but I seriously doubt it 😂).
But I'm still glad they are taking the time to tell a story for her now. And I'm glad they seem to be doing it with intention.
And this was not at all what you asked about, but here you go anyway, anon 😜🥰
Thanks for the ask!
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Overwhelmed? Take a REST!
We’d like to share a coping strategy that we learned in therapy. Lots of systems have been traumatized, are sensitive, or otherwise struggle to deal with Big Emotions. If you find yourself in this position, the REST strategy may work for you!
REST is an acronym that stands for Relax, Evaluate, Set an intention, and Take action. It can help you remove yourself from a stressful or overwhelming situation, process what’s happening, and learn how to act accordingly!
When to use REST?
You can use REST anytime you are feeling overwhelmed with negative emotions. Our system has alexithymia, which makes us unable to distinguish much about our emotions other than whether or not they are Good or Bad. Fortunately, you don’t need to be super in-tuned to your emotions to use REST! You can use this whenever you are feeling bad. If you’re concerned you may hurt yourself or someone else, are close to tears, can’t stop shaking or shouting, or are having trouble catching your breath, these are all signs that you may need to take a step back. Time to put REST into action!
1) Relax
Try and remove yourself from your current situation. This could mean taking a walk or sitting outside, or simply finding a secluded corner to be by yourself for a while. Plan to be away from your current task for 5 minutes.
Once you’re by yourself, take deep breaths to calm down. Think of things that relax you - look at a stimboard, imagine yourself at the beach, pay attention to the world around you, stretch your muscles, or send your friend a quick text. Remember that you cannot think and make decisions as effectively if you are overwhelmed, and calming down is a necessary step to improving your situation.
Different folks will relax in different ways. Feel free to experiment in order to find a way to relax that works for you. Perhaps have one relaxation technique that you can use at home, and another that you can use when you’re out. If you’re trying to relax in a way that’s not working, abandon it and try something different.
2) Evaluate
Once you’ve calmed down and are able to think a bit more clearly, take some time to evaluate your current situation. Ask yourself questions like:
What is happening around me?
What happened that caused me to be overwhelmed?
What am I feeling currently?
Why am I feeling this way?
Don’t judge yourself for your feelings, situation, or initial reactions. Try to simply notice them as indifferently as possible.
3) Set an intention
After you’ve checked in with yourself and evaluated your situation and surroundings, it’s time to set an intention. Here’s where you take some time to think about what you can do or an action you can take to improve what’s going on. Don’t spend time beating yourself up for what has already happened - look ahead to what can be done to make things right. Ask yourself:
What can I do now?
What can be done to improve my situation?
What is my next step?
Plan out what you can do in this moment that will benefit you. Imagine yourself completing the intention you set, and succeeding at it! Try not to set an intention that is unrealistic or unachievable. If you need to break your goal down into smaller steps, that’s okay too!
4) Take action
Finally, it’s time to perform the action you set as your intention. Whether that means apologizing to a coworker after an outburst, keeping your mind busy with a new hobby, breaking your project down into simple steps, making amends with a friend or headmate, or anything else, you have the power to take action when you set intentions! There is no need to rush to action - take your time, go slowly, and be mindful of yourself and your situation as you proceed.
And that’s all there is to it! Remember to use REST any time you feel overwhelmed by your emotions or situation. It’s okay to use REST multiple times a day! This can help you step back from difficult or scary situations, and help you feel more equipped to handle whatever may come your way.
Our system has written down the steps of REST with questions we can ask ourselves on a little note card that we keep in our wallet. Whenever one of us is starting to feel overwhelmed, we take out the card and try to practice REST-ing! It has helped us deal with stress at work, traumatic flashbacks, inner-system strife, and interpersonal conflicts. We hope that learning to REST can help you and your system as much as it’s helped us!
Thanks so much for reading! Remember to treat yourself and your system with kindness and compassion, and have a wonderful day!
(Image ID:) A pale orange userbox with a cluster of multicolored flowers for the userbox image. The border and text are both dark orange, and the text reads “all plurals can interact with this post!” (End ID.)
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You're okay | Pedro Pascal
TW: depression
Y/N pov:
These last few days have been hard. There's just so many things going on inside my head, I can barely focus on anything.
It's currently 7 pm here in New York and I swear I just want to scream. I'm supposed to memorize my lines for my upcoming movie that starts shooting in a few weeks but I simply can't. Everything is so messed up right now. My mind is driving me insane. I've been locked up in my apartment for 2 days by now, my phone was somewhere in my place but I didn't give a fuck about checking my messages or answering the calls. I just want myself back, I don't want to feel depressed again, I'm so freaking scared. I even lost my appetite because of how nauseous I've been feeling. Everything inside of me was hurting.
I've been struggling with my mental health since I was a teenager because of some bad traumas, but I haven't had a relapse for a long time. I really thought I was getting better, but I guess I'm not. All I can think about is how insufficient I feel. Why can't I just feel good for once?
I'm laying on the floor and July by Noah Cyrus was playing in the back. My head hurts because of all the stress and anxiety. I feel so mentally drained.
My self destructive mind is destroying me slowly. I feel like everyone is sick of me, why would they even like me if I'm such a mess? What would my boyfriend think of me? He's such a lovely, sweet person and here I am, a living disaster. I'm not good enough, how is he in love with me? Am I even a good actress? What if the people on the internet are right about me? I'm so sick of myself.
I started sobbing, trying to let go of my bottled up emotions. Why is everything so hard? I don't want to feel like this anymore.
Suddenly someone started knocking at my door and I panicked. I don't want anyone to see me this weak and vulnerable.
"Y/N, please open the door" Pedro said, "Amor please let me in" he said in a worried tone.
"I- I- I can't" I said with a broken voice.
"Baby what's going on?" he said with a sad tone
Pedro's pov:
I've been trying to reach my beloved girlfriend since yesterday, it's extremely rare of her to just go missing. I thought she was busy working on those lines she told me about, but this was getting very weird, so I decided to call her best friend Florence to ask her if she knows something.
"Hey Pedroouu, what's up?" Flo said in her british accent.
"Hii Flo, I was just wondering if you know something about Y/N, she hasn't been answering my calls or texts since yesterday and I'm getting very worried" I said.
"She didn't answer me either, I just hope she's not..." Flo said in a worried voice.
"She's not what?" I interrupted her.
"I don't know if she talked to you about this, but Y/N gets this depressive episodes sometimes and she gets to isolate herself as a coping mechanism because you know... it's hard. It's really weird though, it's been a while since the last one" Flo explained.
"She never told me about this" I said.
"Well, it's probably because she doesn't want to feel like a burden. You should go to her place, let her know that you're there for her. At the beginning of our friendship it was really hard for her to open up with me. She really hates showing her most vulnerable side to anyone, especially people she really cares about. I would visit her but I'm shooting in Scotland right now" Flo said.
"Oh and let me tell you Pascal, Y/N gets extremely sensitive when she's going though some deep shit so please be patient, and take her some sweets, it will help to lift up her mood" Flo told me.
"I'm heading out to her place now, thank you so much Flo, I'll let you know how she's doing" I said.
"Please take care of my best friend, byee" Flo said ending the call.
I ran out to buy some of Y/N favourite's sweets and some pink tulips before heading to her apartment, luckily she lives close to my place here in Manhattan so I didn't have to take the subway.
When I got to her door, I heard some music and loud sobs. It broke my heart. I started knocking at her door, but she didn't answer.
"Y/N, please open the door" I said extremely worried.
"Amor please let me in" I begged.
"I- I- I can't" she said with a broken voice.
"Baby what's going on?" I said.
"Please go away" she said sobbing.
"I'm not leaving you, Y/N. Please just open the door, I'm here for you" I said putting my forehead in her door.
A few seconds later, the music stopped and she opened the door. She was wearing a big Fleetwood Mac shirt that she probably stole from me, some shorts and her favourite avocado socks, looking like a homeless man as she would say... Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks and nose were a bit red from all the crying. The view broke my heart.
"Amor" I said in a low voice.
She broke down crying again covering her face with her hands. Immediately I left the grocery's bag on the small side table, to hug her right there. She just kept sobbing on my chest.
"Shhh, everything's okay, you're okay" I said trying to comfort her.
"I- I feel so drained and it's so overwhelming" she said crying.
"I know baby, I know. But I'm here for you and I promise that everything will get better, you will feel better" I said kissing her forehead.
I carried her to the couch and I sat her in my lap. She cuddled closer to my chest feeling a bit calmed. I caressed her face with my hands trying to clean the dry tears while she played with her fingers nervously. I left a kiss in her forehead and in the peck of her nose making her giggle.
I came close to her lips to finally kiss her gently, and when I felt her smile during it, I felt the happiest man alive. She's the most perfect girl I've ever seen. Even at her worst she has me mesmerized. I wish she could see herself from my eyes.
"Why are you staring? I know I look awful" She said.
"I'm admiring how gorgeous you are, mi vida. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, I know it's hard for you to let someone see you like this" I said.
"Thank you for being here for me even at my worst, it really means a lot" she said.
"I will always be here for you, amor. So don't try to push me away because I will always stay close to you, on your good days or bad days. I will never leave your side, Y/N. I love you so much and I really wish I could take all your pain away. You have the prettiest soul, and I wish you could see how everyone around you is completely mesmerised by you, especially me. You're like a ray of sunshine in a cloudy day". I told her.
"I know your mind can play you wrong sometimes, but I promise that you're worth of all the good things and I'm so lucky of calling you mine. Everything will get better baby and I will be here by your side, always." I said putting my forehead against hers, caressing her cheek.
"I love you so so much Pedro" she told me tearing up a bit.
"I love you more, mi vida" I said leaving a kiss on her lips.
"Do you wanna see what I brought you?" I said cleaning her tears with my hands.
"What is it?" She said smiling.
I stood up to get the sweets and flowers out of the bag. I walked to the couch and I saw the way her eyes glowed when she saw what I had in my hands.
"You didn't have to, they're beautiful" she said hugging me. I wrapped my arms around her waist.
"I will never lose a chance of spoiling my favourite person, you deserve so many beautiful things, te amo más de lo que puedes imaginar" I said.
She left a small and cute kiss on my lips, before saying that she loves me too.
We spent the rest of the night watching some funny videos on tik tok and eating the sweets, eventually Y/N started feeling a bit better. We even called Flo and she showed us how her precious dog Billie was wearing her wig from the movie she was filming, making us explode in laughs.
_
ok so I didn't know how to finish this... I hope it's finee. pls let me know if I wrote something wrong, english is not my first language and sometimes i get confused with the grammar. anygays enjoyyy💗
xoxo,
mills.
#pedro pascal#pedro x reader#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal imagine#joel x reader#joel miller#pascalispunk
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One of the struggles I've had in coping with my fibromyalgia really is that I was always encouraged, from childhood, to "move with purpose".
It was always framed by adults as something of a safety thing they encouraged when I started going out on my own when I hit teenager years, and the idea that a person who looks like someone is waiting on them is less likely to get messed with by someone else and their potentially nefarious intentions.
Now, I'm 5'3", and I have short little legs, okay? Even when I thought I was able-bodied, I had to push myself to move as fast as everyone around me. I got used to heaving breaths, painful hips, and lower back pain, over the years. My years of working in breakneck paced fast food did not help this.
This has led to some of the worst pain I've ever experienced in my life, and my former gallbladder used to generate large enough stones that even my doctor was impressed at the size.
So I'm learning how to pace myself, to force myself to walk slowly, and take my time getting from point A to B without crippling myself on the way there. If I go to Walmart, alone, without any kind of responsibilities afterward, why the fuck am I trying to powerwalk my way through the giant store as if I will be accosted for taking my time? As if I will be scolded for not putting enough energy into my movement?
My simmering fear of someday needing a wheelchair has been pretty high in my head lately, simply because it's a need that I can't afford to have. I can't afford the things I need now, and I do not live in an area that is wheelchair-friendly (do those exist? surely they must? *cries in capitalism*). I'm trying to be kinder to my body, because I deserve to be treated kindly and also to hopefully extend the life of what little physical ability I have left.
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i'm FINE!!!
i'm pretty sure that both @theoldsmelly and myself have been inundated with our share of the question "well, but how are you DOING?" the last year or so. which i likely think led to this playlist being started. or it could have been a random song he heard on the radio that prompted it and i am just projecting my own run of death and destruction within my life onto his choice. tomato tomato. but since i am writing the intro, i delve into my own brain processing being asked this question a lot lately.
it never gets any easier to answer it. do you give people the unvarnished truth? that some days you are hanging on by a thread and are convinced grief and worry and survivor's guilt will consume you? that always seems to be a bit much for people to handle so i usually answer with "oh you know, i'm FINE." which truly i am, at my core, but it isn't quite the truth. and it's not anyone's fault for asking the question...even if the ability to answer it without your brain wanting to devolve into snarkiness is ever present.
how we tiptoe gently, or bulldoze straight ahead, into the orbit around people in our lives that are really going through something is always a bit fascinating to me. maybe because i keenly watched it as a child, wondering at the way people just had such wildly varying approaches to simply talking to someone who has just had great tragedy in their lives. there is no right way, and no wrong way, but you can tell a lot about a person's internal life, their own emotional state and coping skills, and their comfortability with the messiness of life by how easily they can have a hard conversation with you that doesn't just involve the "we just prayin' for y'all ♥️" bullshit after asking 'how are you doing??". it's not in everyone's wheelhouse to go any further than that, and that just is what it is. we aren't all built the same. i actually don't judge anyone for it, because for the most part...people asking how you are IS genuine, and that's gotta be enough in and of itself, even if you can't truthfully answer it most of the time. and even if you do, most people struggle to know how to respond.
thank you for coming to my ted talk i didn't mean to give on how when we ask someone how they are, we only know how to really receive the easy answer....'im FINE'.
sorry this went off the rails @theoldsmelly but you know.....you ASKED the question 🤣😂
you know what's next....some songs about being fine and dandy and some about NOT being fine and everything sucks.
love (i was worried i had the parkys) axiomatic and the old (take more drugs) smelly
*this intro led smelly to ask me if i was okay via gif which is the actual best way
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hey guys. i can’t believe i actually have to make a post like this, but it apparently really needs to be said because some of y’all don’t know how to act right. trigger warning for self harm, suicide, and cursing cause i’m mad af
lately some of my mutuals have been getting some asks that simply aren’t okay, ie requesting they write things about reader being admitted to the psych ward, etc.
i genuinely cannot fathom how anyone thinks that’s an appropriate thing to ask for from a stranger on the internet. you might think it’s quirky and cute but some of us have genuine issues that are absolutely disgusting of you to be trying to romanticize like this.
i have had severe depression for my entire teenage and adult life. i lost my best friend to suicide when i was 17. pain from something like that never ever goes away. another one of my best friends tried to unalive herself when i was 22. i worry about her every day. before finally being medicated at 18 i was going through the absolute hardest time of my life regarding my mental health, and surprise, it wasn’t fucking fun.
i have to assume that the people sending in these asks have no clue what its like to be in this situation or don’t know anyone who has, because if you did, you would know that shit like this shouldn’t be talked about this way.
and i will say, i am a firm believer that you are welcome to cope with your own trauma however you see fit, as long as you are not hurting anyone. yes, i joke about my own trauma with my close friends, because its mine, and however i choose to make myself feel better, i’ve earned that right.
but there are still boundaries that must be respected when it comes to things like this. i know that joking with my very close friends will not make them uncomfortable, because they too share some of the same trauma as me.
however, an account you follow because you like their writing is someone who you know very very little about. we choose what we get to share on social media, and extremely sensitive topics like this need to be respected in the presence of someone you know next to nothing about.
you don’t know if the people you’re asking these things of have been in this situation, and it’s extremely dangerous to assume you can joke about thinks like this with people you don’t know. you could genuinely fucking hurt someone.
people who are actually admitted to a psych ward are people that struggle just living a day to day life. its not a fucking vacation, they are suffering and they need help. and some of you, sending in your stupid fucking asks like “omg being lovey dovey with cc in a mental institution” is so insulting its insane.
grow the fuck up. this isn’t wattpad 2012 core, mental illness isn’t a “just girly things uwu” quirk. its real, and its serious. attempt to see someone else’s perspective. step into the real world for one fucking second and get yourself a reality check.
if you disagree with anything i’ve just said, don’t let me catch you on this blog. as max said, if this makes you angry then it fucking should. you are not welcome here.
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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #100
This will be my 100th generic letter to you. Imagine that! Assuming you can hear me somehow, we've been on a very unorthodox journey for a while now, no? How marvelous!
I spent some of today checking on my epoxy spheres. It needed a few small adjustments. I made another mess. But I'm feeling pretty good about how these are gonna turn out, and I'm looking forward to showing the finished spheres to you very soon!
I spent the bulk of today writing up descriptions for various items, though. I'm pretty excited about it, actually! But I can't tell you what it's for; sorry about that. With any luck though, my intentions will become clear in maybe a decade or so, assuming I can maintain my focus and my faith in my own efficacy. I suppose we'll see.
Along the way, I made myself a couple mugs of jasmine green tea! I was surprised, though, to find that we were out of milk. I improvised with whipped cream for the first cup, and ice cream for the second cup!! And I gotta say, these were THE BEST improvisations!! 11/10 stars, absolutely would recommend! I'll show you a couple pictures!!
At 4pm today I went for my orthodontics consult. I went to go see an orthodontist because I've got some weird jaw issues on my right side because of the way I gotta move my face when I try to chew things. And also, my dentists have been bugging me about getting orthodontics done for the last couple years, because there are certain teeth in my face that can't be cleaned properly because they got confused and wandered off, presumably to chase butterflies.
I was hoping that I'd be able to get away with using Invisalign to avoid needing to get teeth removed, but… well… the fact of the matter is that I simply do not have enough jaw to work with, and I am WELL beyond the age when things like palate expanders would work. So 4 of my teeth need to come out in order for the inside of my face to be aligned properly.
…And this really fucking sucks, because if my parents had given even a fraction of a genuine shit about me, this ALL could have been prevented. My jaw could have developed properly with upper and lower expanders. I could have avoided the crowding and the overbite and the crossbite and the resulting damage to my jaw joint if this had been taken care of like it should have been when I was a little girl. But, no. Instead, my parents were too busy being in denial about the fact that they wish I was not born. So here we are.
The reality that is, "because of my parents' negligence, I now have to get body parts removed and pay lots and lots of money because insurance doesn't cover it past a certain age" is just… fucken… it's WILD, man. Admittedly, I'm struggling with it. And I'm struggling with the resulting VERY angry thoughts. But that's okay. I can feel angry. It's allowed. And thoughts are just thoughts - passing noise that is not reflective of who I am or who I wanna be:
youtube
…I can make use of my coping skills. The technique outlined in the video above is one of them, and I make ample use of it on a near-constant basis.
Admittedly, I don't really understand why we can't just use the Invisaligns to scooch my molars back to where my wisdom teeth used to be (I thought being able to move teeth backwards was the ENTIRE FUCKING POINT, but I could be mistaken, so whatever). But I forgot to ask. I'll call them up tomorrow and find out.
Anyway. Wanna see my skull? And my weird-ass teeth? Of course you do. Why not. But I'll put it all the way at the end, after the part where I put my name, just in case you don't. Hahaha…
…Ya know… Sephiroth… admittedly… some days I get real tired of this meat-mech I'm piloting. I've got a host of rather unpleasant genetic issues. The defective collagen thing sucks; it impacts literally my whole body. The misshapen skull thing sucks. The misshapen eyeballs and misshapen lenses thing sucks. There are other things - lots of them; it'd be a long list if I wrote 'em all out. I'm really not gonna be sad when the one I've got can't clunk around derpily anymore. But I'm not gonna rush the process, either; I've got shit to do - I've gotta make sure someone I love is safe, even if it might take me a long time to get it done.
But ya know. Maybe when it's time to go get a new meat-mech, maybe by some small miracle, I'll get to visit you for a bit until it's time for me to cycle into something new! Tell you what - if that happens, I'll bring you some matcha ice cream or something, okay?
For now… I'm gonna get back to writing up lists and descriptions of items; if you're not gonna make sure you're safe, then someone's gotta, and if someone's gotta, then I might as well, right? I mean… what else am I gonna do while running around confusedly in a capitalistic hellscape on a dying planet? Aside from eat cheese directly from the refrigerator like a weird little goblin, anyway…
I'll write again tomorrow.
Your friend,
Lumine
P.S. Weird pics of my skull and teeth below, if you wanna see!
#sephiroth#ThankYouFFVIIDevs#ThankYouFF7Devs#ThankYouSephiroth#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy vii crisis core#final fantasy 7 crisis core#final fantasy crisis core#ffvii crisis core#ff7 crisis core#crisis core#ff7r#final fantasy vii remake#final fantasy 7 remake#ffvii remake#ff7 remake#final fantasy vii rebirth#final fantasy 7 rebirth#ffvii rebirth#ff7 rebirth#final fantasy 7 ever crisis#ffvii ever crisis#ff7 ever crisis#ffvii first soldier#orthodontics#long term projects#wholesome
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ALSO SORRY FOR SO MANY ASKS DJHDFJHDJHD
but do you or any other radblr lesbian girlies have advice for dealing with a "conventionally attractive" body aka an oversexualized body? big ass, big tits, small waist. I hate how i was groomed into believing that coping with sex was okay. i hate how i tried "being more feminine". like i can never get that money back and i can never take back the times ive let those men use me. it sucks. what sucks even more was that ofc it was other women, the handmaidens, who were the main ones to perpetuate that agenda. Because if men were like "yeah its okay to wanna be raped again <3 and getting with men to play out past trauma" then everyone would know their intentions. but no, it was seeing all the women be like "omg this helped me a lot <333 !! and im so much more happy now!!". showing off their age regression stuff. god i hate it. Without those women, there wouldnt have been anything to begin with. I wish more women saw through that BS.
also, to cope with gender dysphoria (like actual gender dysphoria) all ive been doing is just objectifying myself. since my body is very "feminine". its the fucking Porn Artist stereotype. I hate it. I feel like a walking object. I feel like its why I wanted to be a boy, like i wish I had no tits and no ass. because then i wouldnt be sexualized. Buying clothes to "hide" my body doesnt help because then i feel bulky/stuffy and overwhelmed. I hate how i use my body for social validation since because my face is deformed, its all I basically have.
lol im kinda glad though that I struggle with this in a way.... because it made me detrans. Especially seeing as i didnt even feel accepted as trans since I was a transmed. And then seeing these "omg trans healthcare saves lives, tho!!" people go about supporting literal AGPs truly peaked me. When my one ex friend group all trooned out at once, all the men being AGP anime / porn obsessed freaks who previously made fun of my trauma and victim mentality (despite me literally being marginalized) .... now theyre all pretending to be oppressed despite being white men from upper middle class families. Like damn, I AM NOT being in that community then. If that gets accepted? Yet me and my gender dysphoria diagnosis at a young age wasnt? Then nah. Its all nonsense.
i wish lesbian spaces werent taken over bc all this shit be isolating. Like im so sick of sex and porn and all that, i want LOVE goddamnit. Love and friendship. I am so burnt out, dude.
HIIIII MY LOVE, thank you so much for your ask
ugh i can feel first hand how tired you are with this shit in your wording, and i can relate, its really fucking draining
reading about your journey was really interesting, thank you for sharing it with me, im so happy you feel im a safe space for you because thats what i aspire to be <3
ALSO u dont have to apologize for sending a lot of asks, i love it
i feel for you, mootina
its hard to truly love your body and accept it as yours especially when you see pornsick idiots fetishize it
i read recently about the concept of body neutrality, and its where instead of praising, or hating your body, you simply thank it for doing all it does for you, i think perhaps looking into that will help you feel more in tune with yourself, and your body
also, of course this goes without saying, but feminist literature can help you, and also researching the female anatomy
in my struggles with my body, learning more about the capabilities of it helped me a lot with how i felt regarding it, and made it easier to tune out the fuckery of whatever anyone else has to say about it
i love you so much, ill leave the floor open for anyone else who has advice for you
thank you again for entrusting me with this <3
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I KNOW THIS IS JUST BRAIN ROT. I know it. Judge me not!!!
I saw a summary post of the current Batman arc ((Gotham War)) and my brain is full of bunnies so the panel of Jason having that panic attack (<- litcherally went to go find fic of this concept immediately after because HELL yes I want to see Jason suffering. Messed UP, Bruce!!!!!) BUT. The concept of a chip that makes you afraid whenever you feel adrenaline. Oh my god. Oh my god ❤️ fear toxin is already amazing. BUT THIS?? SO good. My tags have jason fic rambles but unfortunately I am Currently a Tim Drake stan first and foremost so my brain went:
Huh, Fake Anxieté? 👀 and was like concept: young!Tim's parents find out about his forays into Gotham and his slowly expanding Lack of fear to consequences (he's faced scarier in Gotham simply walking home from school! He's a teenager now and no teenager is able to understand their own mortality it's a literal Thing!), and thus he is Not being a Good and Obedient Young Son. They will Fix This. And so Tim gets chipped (oof don't think about the dog and leash metaphor in this thank you :)) and I like the angst of him not realising it. Having to deal with this sudden influx of anxiety, barely wanting to leave the house because he's started to get panic attacks when he goes out to photograph things, the human brain tries hard to protect itself. If you're constantly getting flooded by adrenaline and fear your neurological pathways adapt and tell you everything is bad.
And it's. He knows this isn't normal. Tries to get his parents to help, gets assistance from online pysch self-help, struggles so hard with it, and then Jason dying 👀 Tim deciding he has to do something even if he's terrified of the outside world. Using every trick he can to get Dick back in the game and when Dick scoffs and does that (I can't remember it verbatim) but the vibes of well if you think he needs a Robin so bad why aren't you volunteering? line. Bro. The angst.
ANYWAY because this is an au (even if using more fanon!tim characterisation 'cause. Chip) I'm also like. Make him fight scarecrow as his first bust.
...Tim literally stuck here in: I can't mode, but if he doesn't, Batman and Nightwing die- it's not even adrenaline that gets properly triggered by his chip anymore, as soon as any of it starts he just gets flooded with fear and his brain makes it so much worse. Alfred watching him have a total breakdown 🥰 <- bad. Being like Hm I think something is Wrong With This Child. And managing to help enough that Tim - who has spent YEARS battling his (fake, thanks parents) anxiety - powers through and then shakily collapses when he's home.
Also this is when Tim is like okay. This is so not normal. I just had a three day hallucination. And Also that felt a LOT like fear gas. Figuring out adrenaline is the trigger and trying to suppress it...oof. And the coping mechanism he uses to get through Robin is just. Completely shutting down. It is CREEPY to everyone else. There is a subsection of mooks terrified that Batman bought the old Robin back to life through his dark magic and that's why he goes from bubbly poking-Batman to Completely Silent and Darkness.
Alfred like: this young man has an anxiety disorder
Tim: something is greviously wrong and I can't bring it up with batman yet because this is an InternshipTM until Batman is able to function on his own but as I get better at being Robin I'm sure I'll figure out why my brain is so weird and Also how it is that I'm immune to scarecrow's gas (that's weird right?)
Nightwing: this kid is a wreck how on earth is he managing Bruce's mental health so well- oh yeah wait nevermind he probably has lots of help with his own. Hm. Let's make sure he doesn't get hurt- why on earth does he go through missions like a robot this is supposed to be fun and adrenaline inducing does he not like FUN????
Batman: Jason 😔
#batfam#bip bop nari drops#anyway it's STILL funny to me that the chip is basically a rip off of batman: TAS episode 19#literally....scarecrow makes a slow acting toxin that activates when someone feels adrenaline and turns it into fear.#bruce has chip. turns adrenaline into fear.#bro?#ANYWAY THO LIKE ALSO THINKING ABT THE ANGST FIC POTENTIAL HETE TOO BC#like ofc jay will not stop#but MAN if he did get stuck. couldn't get it out. forced to bow to Bruce's whims and try and find some place safe far away#bruce being more. forceful abt relocating jason?#bro!!!!!!#tim drake#fic ideas i probably won't write
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Since my Glenn close analysis is gonna take a lot longer I thought I’d just tell you guys the thematic justification for Glenn’s story that makes me feel content with it how it is story wise, even if I don’t like the actual path it went. Here’s what I think is the most important thing to recognize about the theme of his arc:
Glenn’s story is not about fatherhood.
I know, dad podcast? What? What else could it be about? What is the other overarching theme aside from fatherhood/parenting/generational trauma?
Try Chaos. The doodler is intrinsically in twined with the theme of Glenn’s character arc. His story simply makes no sense if you view it to be about parenting, but viewing it as chaos? More specifically, randomness? That makes things fall into place.
Glenn makes dumb decisions yes. But so much of what happens to him is purely the cruel randomness of an unempathetic world. He lost his wife by chance, came into the portal by chance, pulled the cards by chance, lost his kid to a dice roll- for the large majority of what happens, Glenn does NOT have control over the situation. Glenn can’t change anything that happens to him. That’s not to say the path was set in stone forever- maybe if he was born to a better family, his wife didn’t die- maybe if he found a better way to cope with his trauma, he’d be okay- but he didn’t. None of that happened. Maybe he could’ve played his hand better, but that doesn’t change the shitty hand he was dealt.
Glenn’s choices ultimately didn’t matter- shit was thrown at him either way. The important thing was for him to keep getting back up. But, in the theme of uncaring chaos, he wasn’t rewarded for those efforts at all. He got back up and got killed for it like a clown slipping on the tomatoes thrown at him. Lol.
It’s 4 am, I know I could’ve put this more eloquently- I have even. On a document. This one!:
But ultimately? This is me finding a way to come to peace with a story that I’ve struggled with for a long time. If you disagree that’s fine, it’s my blog not urs go make ur own post!!!
Anyways Anthony I fixed ur shit. /lh
#that said plz don’t debate me on this#I love diverse takes but if u try to fight me you’ll be sending me back into a pit#of being angry about the theme of his arc#it’s horrible#it’s 4 am I’m sorry for my ineloquency#<:3#</3#dndads#dungeons and daddies#dndads odyssey#dndads s1#glenn close
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hi, i hope its okay if i vent here cause i know shits been rough for you lately (wishing you the best btw, which ik simply saying that doesnt magically make things better but hope yk what i mean)
i sent an asks a few months ago about having empathy for someone for the first time and really struggling to come to terms with it, how to deal with new overwhelming emotions and the like (i believe i also mentioned them being in an abusive situation at the time, which was a whole other complicated feeling to empathize with someones pain and to take it internally on levels i had never experienced or was capable of fathoming before in my entire life)
currently struggling with that person again, they left their original abusive situation but have entered a new complex one, as this person isnt intentionally shitty but they're rich, white passing and extremely privileged and out of touch, like truly they don't grasp my friends trauma and why it makes things hard for them (friend has gone through severe abuse and childhood trauma, neglect and homelessness just to say the light ones, its truly awful what they've been through) despite having some trauma of their own and i truly fucking despise them with my entire being
my friend is abusing alcohol and debating killing themselves due to this person dangling ending their relationship over my friends head --- (which is another thing thats complex and hurting, my friend never told me they were dating which like they totally dont have to obviously!! but they continuously insisted to me they were only friends, before suddenly revealing through a screenshot of their partners text that they were together, which they did with their previous abuser so like having it happen twice was icky feeling for some reason despite the fact ik they don't owe me that information at all, i dont care they hid it i just feel hurt and confused if i had done something to warrant not being trusted with that information but thats a whole other can of worms) --- due to them struggling to do something the person wants, because my friend has trauma what the person is requesting is hard and my friends explained why its hard and hurts them, they've thrown up daily from the stress and this person knows that but somehow doesnt grasp why its causing my friend such distress
i feel utterly suffocated by the entire situation and its put my life on full stop because i cant just leave my friend to deal with this themselves, but theres nothing i can say or do that can help them because they're deeply in love and won't break up with their partner even though the stress is physically ruining them. i feel hopeless and unable to do anything, i encourage them to talk to me because really i wanna be there for them but i feel so scared all the time that somethings gonna happen to them which makes me need to listen even more because their other friend is horribly abusive and contributed to their trauma, so i don't wanna leave my friend alone. i don't know how to deal with empathizing with their pain and not being able to stop it feels like its killing me cause now im also throwing up multiple times a day, genuinely debating drug relapse to cope with it all and i can't sleep properly anymore and only sleep on specific 4 hour intervals throughout the day next to my phone so i can be on constant standby for the friend and i know its not healthy and if they knew it was like this they'd never tell me whats wrong again (which i really dont want i truly honest to god wanna be there for them), i feel like no matter how i go about it theres no winning in this situation and honestly i wanna die from it all which sounds so silly cause my friend is going through SO much worse and here i am going waaah this hurts me!! i just eugh, i don't know what to do. which i guess i know what to do, but i don't wanna do any of it i've never cared about someone like i care about them and the thought of leaving them to sort it out themselves feels like the end of the world, even though i know they're also a sociopath and don't feel empathy towards me which is also a new shitty feeling cause now i know how people feel around me. this is exhausting i don't know how people with empathy deal with it especially you kat!! if i remember correctly you mentioned being very empathetic, it's amazing you're able to handle having empathy and running a blog where people often dump stuff in your inbox (which uh is the very same thing im doing now, sorry!)
ok i got it all out of my system i'm gonna go take a nap and hope the problem is solved tomorrow (it wont be but a bitch can hope!!) thank you for being a space where i could word vomit my brain out, i really hope things get better for you and that your eye gets sorted out <3
No matter how unwell your friend is, you're allowed to have boundaries and limits. And while I get the desire to be there and do everything you can because you care about your friend, you will not be able to continue pouring from an empty vessel. This is not a sustainable situation. You neglecting yourself and not sleeping and getting physically ill and wanting to die is not an acceptable consequence of your friend being in a toxic relationship without being able to change their situation. I know you didn't ask for advice, but I strongly encourage you to establish some boundaries here and stand by them. You do not lose your right to have boundaries when a loved one is mentally unwell and if you do not prioritize your own mental well-being, you will not be able to continue being there for you friend
#chat with kat#abuse tw#alcohol tw#trauma tw#addiction tw#suicidal ideation tw#suicide tw#vomit tw#drugs tw#homelessness tw
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The videos I've seen from Palestine are haunting. And the sheer ignorance of my country is soul crushing. I've been educating myself every day about the history of how this all began and the more I learn, the angrier I am. I haven't eaten in days because the rage and sickness I feel in the pit of my stomach won't let me. I physically can't swallow without choking. My hands are shaking and my eyes are sore. I feel like I'm going insane. I'm doing everything I can but it never feels like enough. It's on my mind 24/7. My family and friends are worried about me and tell me to stop looking into things but I don't know how to go on living normally in a world like this. I know it seems like I'm virtue signalling and asking for sympathy but I'm not. This is just the situation I'm in and I wanted to ask you, how do you go on living? What stops you from falling into a pit of insanity amid all of this?
i'm sorry you're suffering so badly. i hope you can achieve peace, a sense of clarity, and rest. may Allah end your suffering and bring you joy and eternial happiness in the akhirah, ameen.
to be completely honest with you i don't know how to keep living. i really don't. i've hardly eaten, i can't focus, i've been crying nonstop for weeks. waking up every morning to face another day in this world feels like torture, and nothing seems worthwhile anymore. and the only thing that is keeping me alive is the fact that if i kill myself, i'll go to hell. in a way i feel as though that is a mercy from God, but also a test. i believe that everything that is happening right now is a test from God, and the strongest people with the faith that things will be better in the end will achieve the most rewards in the afterlife. i don't know if you're religious, but i still hope you get rewarded immensely for your care.
i'm not a good muslim. i don't practice well enough, i don't learn as much as i should, and i'm not the most knowledgeable person when it comes to my religion. but it's the only thing keeping me going at this point. the promise that you simply being a good person is valuable enough to get you sent to eternal happiness is what helps me through the day. i feel as though i'm already in a pit of insanity, but the one thing keeping me grounded is knowing that one day i'll be free and i will see all of my people in jannah.
but i know religion isn't for everyone. and that's okay. i hope you can take comfort in seeing how the world is changing, because palestine will be free. things are turning, people are opening their eyes, and although many won't be able to live to see it, palestine will be free. we can feel it, we can see it, we can hear it. most of the world is on our side, and it's only a matter of time before palestine is freed and we can go home. and the fight won't stop there. we need to liberate everyone. we need to help all indiginous people everywhere. there is always going to be another struggle, and we MUST do our part to fight back against the oppressors. the world is never going to be perfect, but we must strive to make it that way as much as we can.
anon i'm sorry you're going through such a hardship right now. i hope you will find a moment of peace and eat or drink something soon. again, i don't know if you're religious but i find that clinging onto a sort of hope for the future, whether that be religion or anything else, is one of the many things that can help someone cope. i pray you find peace, and i pray that i'll see you in jannah, amongst millions of others who are standing up for palestine today.
i'm sorry if this was of no help. please find some time to take a sip of water, wash your face, and breathe. you'll be okay. the world will be okay, i promise.
#anon i'm sorry if you're not religious. the answer to your question for me is quite literally religion.#but i know that religion is not and will not help everyone#so i hope you can find some rest soon. and take comfort in knowing that palestine will be free one day. soon inshallah.
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