#tw: substance abuse

[riricitaa]

as promised 🙈 a continuation to this

#can't believe i actually did it haha #hope y'all like it #tw: substance abuse #tw: drugs #stucky #alternate universe #stucky au #stucky alternate universe #stevebucky #stevebucky au #stevebucky alternate universe #stucky edits #stucky gifs #stevebucky edits #stevebucky gifs #my edits #my gifs #my aus #mine #*

[fastcardotmp3]

cw: substance abuse, addiction, stobin drugging-related PTSD I'm home sick and found this fully written in my drafts? from march?? apparently?

Steve and Robin, who make jokes about that time we did LSD like it's a funny anecdote to the point where no one knows the actual context of the situation.

(Dustin and Erica would know, if Steve and Robin weren't still self aware enough to decidedly not make jokes about it where those two can hear)

(But still.)

Steve and Robin, who only trust a drink if it comes from the other, who trade off sober duties even if someone else is already designated driver because it's not the same as making sure one of them always has their wits about them.

Steve and Robin who, in the very immediate aftermath of Starcourt, develop two drastically different relationships with substances-- Robin who is detrimentally afraid of the glass of wine her parents sometimes offer her on special occasions versus Steve who can and will try everything available to him just to prove again and again that it was never going to kill him even if he felt like he was dying at the time.

They self destruct in equal but opposite ways for the rest of that first summer before the looking out for each other starts, before the coping via humor starts, before the decision to just call it LSD Steve because if I have to try and process that it was something that I can't read and learn about on top of everything else--

It's not like it ever leaves them though, this way that this specific trauma has fucked them up.

(It's not like Dustin and Erica don't notice, no matter how hard their friends try to hide it.)

It's not like there's anything they can do about it when Steve relapses and goes on a bender that has him losing a whole day of time and waking up to Robin checking his heart rate or when Robin thinks she's in a good enough headspace to do shots with their friends and ends up on the floor of another dirty bathroom with Steve holding her hair back, less from the booze and more from all the hyperventilating, the tears that won't stop until long after she's sober.

(It's not like people don't notice when Robin's jokes about their little LSD trip get pointed on nights Steve's had a bit too much, or how Steve cuts her off from making those jokes at all on nights her hands can't steady around a plastic cup; it's not like they could hide anything from people like this, who hunt monsters and solve mysteries and swallow horrors like the smoothest of whiskeys.)

(It's not like Dustin hasn't gone to Eddie when he gets worried, even if he never spills the whole story. It's not like Erica hasn't asked Nancy unsubtle questions about how to help people with dependency issues. It's not like Eddie and Nancy haven't spoken their own concerns into the quiet dark of night over crackling phone lines where no one else can hear.)

There are nights like this and they happen like clockwork, nights in the little house in Indy for which only two of them are technically on the lease but four and then six and sometimes a whole gaggle of high schoolers still pass through like transients every weekend.

There are nights like this, when the youngest of their ranks aren't around and the booze flows freely and they're out on the porch watching the sun set late with the lift and pull of summertime, when a conversation goes sour with a comment that betrays something that has yet to be spoken aloud.

Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin who have clearly been through something the rest of them aren't privy to; Steve and Robin who mention it offhandedly without any proper details; Steve and Robin who are hurting right there in front of them and how are they supposed to help how are any of them supposed to--

"Okay, that's it--"

"Nance..."

It's Eddie's warning tone but it's also Jonathan giving her that look from where he's perched on the porch rail and it's also the sudden tension in Robin's brow and confusion in Argyle's and something painfully close to resignation in Steve's.

But this is Nancy Wheeler. It's a miracle she's let them go on like this for as long as she already has.

"No, I'm over the secrets," she shakes her head once, definitive, and levels her gaze on those twin hearts curled together on the porch swing. "You two are going to tell us what happened to you-- who hurt you-- and we're going to fucking fix it."

Steve and Robin, who lean impossibly closer into each other's space.

Steve and Robin, looking ready to bolt.

Steve and Robin, who don't look hopeful for any sort of fixing.

But it's not like it was going to stay unspoken forever.

#dot post #tw: substance abuse #tw: addiction #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin #the way i forgot I wrote this and then gave steve that plotline in WR i have one braincell and it's missing half the time #anyways I'm stuck in bed because my body hates me have this <3

[sadhornydemons]

Inside Your Gilded Jail

#helluva boss #stolas #stolas goetia #depression #tw: substance abuse #tw: depression #gif

[cacoetheswriting]

chemicals react

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader word count: 1.4k warnings: angsty angst, mature themes & adult language, drug use / substance abuse, emotional hurt, eddie is a bit of an asshole, use of pet names (baby) - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything! summary: eddie experiments with something stronger than his usual poison and it breaks your heart, (this request).

-

It was only supposed to be a little innocent fun.

After a Tuesday night performance at The Hideout, Eddie and his fellow Corroded Coffin bandmates were packing up their equipment into the back of Eddie’s van. A mundane activity they carried out routinely. Joking around, completely unbothered, until one by one, they eventually said their goodbyes and headed off home. 

Eddie made plans to swing by your place after the show, albeit briefly because he knew you had an early start the next morning. His first mistake however, was hanging around the rear of The Hideout a little longer to finish his cigarette before he hit the road.

And now, instead of making his way to see you, the metalhead found himself lost in conversation with a bartender who heard from a friend of a friend about Eddie’s “extra curricular” activities.

His second mistake was giving into the peer pressure that followed.

“Come on man,” the bartender coughed out a puff of smoke, “You seriously haven’t tried anything stronger? Like I know you’re still in high school but you’re way overdue for graduation, no?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, well, I need to be sharp headed to conduct business.”

“Oh yeah, because weed is known to make people smarter,” the bartender smirked sarcastically and straightened up before reaching for their backpack. “Listen, try this when you’re done being a pussy. The first one’s on me, after that, I’ll offer a dealer’s discount.”

A small baggie containing one singular pill weighed heavy in a pocket of the metalheads jacket.

When he appeared on your front door step later that night, you could tell something was on his mind but when you asked, he brushed the question off with a simple, “I’m just tired, baby.”.

Foolishly, you believed him.

It’s only a little innocent fun — is what Eddie said to himself the following Friday night as he placed the pill on his tongue.

Except the whole situation quickly developed into something far from harmless and Eddie should’ve known he was in trouble when he found himself needing more of the stuff to keep getting the same effects. 

Given his… profession, the leather clad boy was often witness to how substance abuse can overtake someone's whole life. He was simply in denial it was happening to him.

You were the first to notice the odd change in Eddie’s behaviour.

His grades were usually on the decline, but he swore 86’ was his year and he finally intended to graduate so he could join you in what he called “the literal hell that is adulthood”. When you noticed a stack of failed tests on his bedroom floor, that was the first red flag.

He was increasingly tired and he was slowly losing interest in things he once liked to do — Gareth came by the record store one afternoon to tell you Eddie’s been bailing on Hellfire and Corroded Coffin practice.

When you stopped by the trailer after your shift to ask what the fuck was going on, he invited you in but fell asleep the second his curly head hit the pillow, before you even finished saying the words: “Eddie, is everything okay?”. 

The alarm bells went off again when he called you in the middle of the night only to breathe down the line and mutter incoherently. 

“I’m worried about you,” you reveal in a mere whisper, wrapping the cord around your wrist as a nervous tick, “Like shit, Eds, you know you can be honest with me, I won’t ever judge. Tell me what’s going on and I’m here for you.”

Beep, beep, beep.

He hung up. He fucking hung up.

Your mouth felt dry and your heart felt like it was beating in a tight cage. A feeling comparable to fear spread through you, you were losing your boyfriend and you didn’t even know why. 

The grandfather clock out in the hallway hit two in the morning and your breakdown followed shortly after. 

Hiding underneath your covers, you burst into loud sobs and once the floodgates opened they were hard to control. A sweep of tears escaped your eyes, trailing down your face like a waterfall.

You needed to get to the bottom of this. You needed to see him before you lost your fucking mind (like he was clearly losing his).

And so at three o’clock, while wiping your tears away, you scrambled out of bed and threw on a sweatshirt over your pyjama top before hurrying out the front door.

Because it was so late — and you didn’t want to give poor Wayne a fucking heart attack — you knocked on Eddie’s bedroom window first. He didn’t immediately answer. Of course he didn’t, you thought, it was three a.m and you were being crazy. But you knocked again and again, desperation taking over.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The hiss startled you. Spinning on your heel, you fell back against the trailer and placed one hand on your chest.

“Eddie,” you breathed, “you scared the shit out of me.”

He ran a shaky hand through his brown locks. “I-I scared you?”, the sound of his voice was disapproving, “Why are you here?”

You furrowed your brows, taking a step towards him. “You called me in the middle of the night sounding like Darth Vader. I thought something happened.”

The metalhead widened his stance before extending his arms at his side. “Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine so you can go home now,” he retorted in a dismissive tone. 

“Are you shitting me right now?” 

“Just fucking go, okay? I didn’t mean to call you, and I certainly don’t need you here right now.”

It was suddenly hard to breathe. Eddie’s never treated you this way. He worshipped the ground you walked on and always said he’d never hurt you. Yet, here he was. Standing a mere arm’s length away and stabbing your heart with invisible daggers.

This wasn’t Eddie. This wasn’t your Eddie. Something was taking him away a piece at a time, making him completely unrecognisable. 

“Eddie, what the fuck has gotten into you?”

“Jesus, nothing. How many times do I have to repeat—”

“You’re not acting like yourself,” you interjected and tried to close the space between you by taking a step forward but Eddie jerked away.

Due to the sudden movement, something fell out of the pocket of his grey sweatshirt. The item hit the ground beneath and as you were (unknowingly) more alert than your boyfriend, you immediately reached for whatever it was.

During that split-second, as you realised what you were looking at and Eddie registered what was happening, everything felt still.

Your chest began to rise and fall with rapid breaths the longer you stared at the small baggie in the palm of your hand. The tears you were desperately trying to hold back since leaving your house broke through, trailing slowly down your cheeks.

Eddie's panicking now. He can't lose you.

“I-I uh, I can explain.” 

Almost hesitant, you lifted your gaze to meet his, heart aching because the reason why you didn’t know the boy in front of you was burning into your skin, making you sick to your stomach.

Despite the overwhelming sadness you were currently feeling, your jaw clenched and your hands balled into fists.

“How long have you been on these?”

When he didn’t immediately respond, ducking his head in shame, you rephrase the question. 

“When did you start taking these, Eddie?”

He swallowed his breath. “Uhm… A few months back, I-I don’t remember the uh, the exact date.”

All you could do was nod. Months. It explained… everything and you should have felt relieved that the cause for your boyfriend’s odd behaviour was a stupid little pill, but at the same time, your mind was replaying the discolsed timeframe on loop and you couldn’t help but wonder how often he wasn’t himself around you. An imposter using the body of someone you loved more than life itself.

It felt like concrete drying in your chest.

“Please say something,” Eddie pleads, and this time he’s the one reaching for you and you’re the one pulling away.

He lingers, the look in his eyes begging you to touch him however, instead, you wrap your arms around yourself, the baggie still hiding in your fist.

“Seeing you hurts me,” you whisper.

The sentence rings in his ears and suddenly he is feeling overwhelmingly sober. It was only supposed to be a little innocent fun, but he knew you would never believe him. Not now.

He fucked up.

-

main masterlist | add yourself to a taglist

#i apologise for the cliffhanger #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gn!reader #tw: drugs #tw: substance abuse

[swervdcity-arc]

hi hii i love you all. just wanted to drop an activity/life update on the dash since ive been almost radio silent. by no means do you have to read all of it, but just know i might not be online for a bit until i get my shit together! if inactivity bothers u at all, feel free to hardblock me if you so desire. tw for drug abuse, substance abuse, self harm.

ive struggled with substance abuse problems for a big part of my life, almost ALWAYS exacerbated by anxiety and my chronic stomach problems. i was clean from painkillers for almost 8 months (give or take) and i relapsed this week. i talked with my partner about it and weve already discussed plans of action, but so far, ive been good for the past 4 days so thats a winnnn.

i can already feel a MASSIVE difference in my body since. i've been trying my best to keep myself healthy these past couple of days, and at the least feel like a living person, and its really fucking difficult. i dont have a lot going on for me rn, so theres not much i can do to distract myself. i did hang out with one of my long time besties last night and had a blast, so that was really really awesome.

i have a support system, i'm safe, and i know from here its back to the uphill battle. it can feel really really bleak, and its honestly been incredibly embarrassing to even acknowledge a relapse or that i had a problem in the first place. but im really grateful that i'm truly in a place and surrounded by people who care for me and want to see me get better.

if ive been super silent lately, this is why. i try to tend to me relationships the best i can, because i do care for them truly, and i love chatting with my tumblr besties. ive just been exhausted and havent had the capacity to even say "heyyy im going thru it im going dark for a bit." but please know im not ghosting you or anything, i just havent had the brain power to say whats going on.

i will be here though! soon! when i feel better and capable of doing so! i wont lie, i LOVE writing here even though it kicks my ass sometimes. its become such an important creative outlet for me, and despite the Problems, i feel safe and happy in my community. i love writing with yall, i love the people with make up and making them kiss, i love reading and writing lore. its really important to be as a hobby, so you definitely will see me back.

i might pop on the dash every now and then to say hi and yell about stuff, i might draft sum shit up soon, but im going to be prioritizing getting my shit together for the time being.

xoxo godsip girl

#tw: drug abuse #tw: drug mention #tw: substance abuse #if theres anything else i need to tag please let me know #ooc

[red-man-of-mustache]

I managed to get my old blog back! Last time I contacted Tumblr support they basically shrugged their shoulders like they couldn't/wouldn't do anything. This time it only took ONE message and bam, I have access again. It feels good to go back and reminisce. See a bunch of old ideas I had for Mario and whatnot. I'm gonna get a little feelsy under the cut though, I just wanted to tell someone about this. I won't be going back to it or anything as I've already started over here but it's nice to have possession over it. Two-factor authentication did it's job(a little too well) when I lost that old phone number.

I made that blog when my then girlfriend suggested I do so. Tumblr wasn't even in my sights at the time. I was fresh out of High School and the tumultuous time I spent there was horrific to my general inspiration to write. What I mean is, I began Freshman year full of hope and vigor. I even wanted to write a book. I still have about six or seven chapters of it somewhere in my laptop but I gave up around sophomore year as I was an outcast, dealing with an alcoholic parent, and all around just not having a good run of things IRL. Thusly I moved further and further from certain hobbies I enjoyed, like writing/role-playing.

As stated, I graduated High School in June of 2014 and my girlfriend suggested I make a rp blog for Mario in July of that same year. I thought nothing of it. I made the blog, followed a bunch of people, and sat back for a bit to see how it was done. I learned some of the terminology and then got right to it! To this day it was the most fun I've had just goofing off, making random jokes with people across the fandom, and not having a care in the world to drag me down.

It was an escape.

If any of you were around, you'll know I spoke about follower count a lot back then. That wasn't to brag, rather I was amazed that people would follow my dumb ol' blog whether it be to watch me write or write with me. The concept still amazes me to this day really. I started going to college shortly after, and admittedly I would often be blogging when I should have been doing homework or even in the middle of class. I loved(and still love) what I was doing. I enjoy writing Mario because I grew up with him and I find comfort in his games. Mario represents a part of me that feel as though I've lost touch with in recent years. The bravery, the happy-go-lucky. The optimism.

As I wrote through the years, on and off through to 2018, I met a lot of people and more often than not I'd vanish on these newfound connections because just to be blunt I am horrible at keeping in touch. Absolutely dogshit at it. If I go too long without speaking to someone I just would figure why bother? Then never say anything again. A vicious cycle really if you feel like an outcast because you reinforce those feelings through inaction.

I was in an especially horrible slump the year I lost that blog. I had a job I hated(but paid well) I was smoking constantly to escape the pain, and I was in a very unsavory living situation. From almost every angle I felt suppressed and tumblr was my only escape. But I started letting it affect my time here as well. Another not so glamorous fact about me: I have trouble letting go of things. Paradoxical with what I just mentioned about keeping in touch I know but people, things, experiences, I cling to the good in my life given the trials I've had to endure. So, I contacted support and tried to hash things out. I was turned down and although I felt at the time it wasn't fair I could just pick back up and do as I used to do, for once I resolved to not give up and made this blog here. I still had access through my old phone(the app specifically. That was the only place I was still logged into it on)) it just didn't have service or the phone number assigned to it for me to receive the Two-factor authentication code.

It hurt at the time to archive my old blog and just go about my day but that was a practice in letting go. Sort of. I'm still using the same name, same character, and my method of writing is just a little bit spruced up. But I needed it. I needed to move on because there was just as much pain associated with that blog as there was good times. I needed to grow and move past it. And I did.

Of course, I took an extended hiatus on this blog as well. At the time I was financially in the gutter, emotionally I was volatile and my physical health didn't help either of those things. It's not all bad though. I've made a lot of good progress recently. The past year really. Unfortunately at first, my weed consumption got to the point where I could hardly function in day-to-day life without it and I was simultaneously worse off mentally for it. It almost drove me to suicide. I did attempt it, once. But that was my breaking point. May of last year. I decided I cannot go on this way and I checked myself into a mental hospital.

After a short stay I came out with a new resolve to fix my life and get over the time I wasted burying my feelings in THC. I had quit, after smoking daily from 2015 until then(2023) I stopped cold turkey. That jumpstart being away from it for a week helped a lot. I'll be a year clean in two months. Afterwards I started seeking better job opportunities, even working two jobs at one point to maximize gain. The truck my uncle helped me get had broken down in November and well, I decided that it would take an exorbitant amount to tow and fix it. I took THAT money and went to the dealership, got a used car I loved. First time I've had a car note in my adult life and I was 27 at the time. My mom (who deserves her own post really. She's not been the best person and that's putting it lightly) ended up in the hopsital around that same time for dry bronchitis. Still an alcoholic by the way, but I actually had hope for her. If I could kick my habit then she should be able to as well, right??

Wrong. She got out the hospital and got even worse. I came back home to look after her tentatively for a bit but planned on going back with my roommate afterwards. Her belligerent drunken rants had gotten markedly worse and if I were to guess it was that brush with death. She claims she went to the hospital because she couldn't breath. I wasn't around at the time to get her there but someone luckily was. Fast Forward to the end of January. My mom and I get into an argument. Usually that doesn't happen because I'll either let her speak her piece and move on or I legit just ignore her. But tonight she was trying to get physical with me, a grown man. Throughout my childhood she was physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive and always used threats to keep me in line but she realized none of that worked anymore and was especially angry.

She was poking at me, trying to land punches on me and eventually I shoved her away. I tried multiple times to walk away by this point by going to other parts of the house but she would follow me, block my way and again try to get physical. Things simply boiled over. After shoving her she grew angrier and we got into things physically. I didn't hit her the entire time. Not a scratch was on her because(and this isn't my ego talking) I was only trying to control the situation. I mostly pushed her around while she clawed at my face, threw things, and she ended up hitting me with an air fryer. When she did that I called the police.

The police came and saw the two of us. Me bleeding with cuts on my face and her unmarked. They spoke to both of us and took me to the hospital and her as well to get examined. I was able to go home that night. She went to jail.

My brother heard what happened and stole my car that night, but again that's a story for another time.

I'm putting all this out there about me because I returned to rping Mario a little bit after all this happened(January 31-February 1st is when it all went down). I was going through a lot on my old blog but I still chugged along because life has it's ups and downs. That's something Mario would say. This past year I've won more than I lost. I've been getting therapy as well to try and pin down if I have anything going on in the ol' noggin so, really, I'm in a place where I think I can sustain this hobby again. At first it felt like life crushed my optimism and hope for a better future but that was because I let it.

I say all this to say, that I'm glad to be back. I'm glad all of you no matter if we write together everyday or every other day gives me a chance. It warms my heart to write these posts even if I'm not here everyday. Sometimes I get busy, sometimes I don't have the energy but I refuse to give up as I've done in the past. That will never happen again.

So bear with me is all I ask. I wouldn't give this up for the world.

#ℳ ➙ Player One | OOC | #tw:suicide #tw: abuse #tw: alchohol mention #tw: substance abuse #tw: blood #tw: violence

[baddieladdie]

Fan theory:

Does Alastor smoke 🍃

I mean, he does have red eyes

#tw: substance abuse #hazbin hotel theory #alastor

[slabseraph]

Comic one-pager from a couple months ago, marker & ballpoint pen.

#tw: substance abuse #comic #one page #one page comic #art #illus #illustration #substance abuse

[thepupperino]

Galladrabbles #72--Harness

Back at it again with this week’s @galladrabbles prompt by @imikhailotakeyouian—thank you!

TW: bipolar disorder, mentions of substance use

- - - - -

Ian spends most of his time in the club in a daze, aided by the drugs he’s given as tips. Each dance feels like going through the motions—sit, grind, make meaningless conversation, repeat.

When a familiar figure enters The Fairy Tail, Ian has to reign in the desire to touch, talk, kiss. Has to harness the instinct to close the distance and make up for lost time.

Mickey pays for a dance, and Ian remembers the sleepover, the fight, the wedding.

He slips back into his role: sit, grind, make meaningless conversation.

Mickey’s voice fades into the music surrounding them.

#will i ever write something happy? the world may never know #why am i like this? #tw: bipolar disorder #tw: substance abuse #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #shameless #galladrabbles

[a-dorin]

i’m changing my own au lore goddamnit!

professor maul was not into alcohol in his younger years.

he was a stoner.

#this makes more sense to me #anyways #professor maul au #professor maul #ardor #maul #also #tw: substance abuse

[riricitaa]

so 🤷🏽‍♀️ this kinda happened 🫣

#tw: substance abuse #tw: drugs #stucky #alternate universe #stucky au #stucky alternate universe #stevebucky #stevebucky au #stevebucky alternate universe #stucky edits #stucky gifs #stevebucky edits #stevebucky gifs #my edits #my gifs #my aus #mine #*

[plumbob-pudding]

Rather than spending all day in an empty house, without his children or Lillian, Willie spent most of his days lost in a mix of alcohol, gambling and fights.

The bar became his life, he staggered there once it opened and stayed until the bartender kicked him out, returning to the shack that had once been his home.

One night, however, Willie returned home to find the locks changed and all his stuff cleared away- he supposed the landlord had had enough of him. As he tiredly slid down the door, Willie realised that he had absolutely no idea what to do.

#sims 4 decades challenge #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #sims 4 simblr #the mosleys #1890s #tw: substance abuse #tw:depression #gen 1

[thehuntison]

Celebration || NYE Group Para

@sebastianmartinsmythe​

Catie happened to be looking over Hunter's shoulder while he was talking about Sebastian finding his own happiness. She said wisely, "Maybe, but he's probably also put his happiness on hold because he's been too scared to go after it. I know about that from experience."  She gave Hunter’s hand a squeeze before she was tugged over to meet more New Directions.

He patted Marc’s strong jaw and said sweetly, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing in town?”

“Hopefully you, Legs,” Marc said with a grin.

Sebastian waggled his eyebrows at him, warming at the old nickname. “You’re gonna have to get in line, GQ.”

Marc leaned in with his dazzling smile, but in a voice just low enough for only the two of them to hear. “I’m here to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, Babyface. Public breakups never go without some collateral damage.”

He stood straighter again and said, with a wink at Karen, “But first, bring me some shots so I can catch up!” While Sebastian signaled for a waiter, Marc reached down to shake hands. “Rob Dean, you look well, sir! When are you guys going to take down Barnes and Noble once and for all?” He moved to kiss Karen’s cheek. “Hello, beautiful. I loved your last book.” She stood up to give him a hug.

"Where’s the dearly departed Mr. Clarington?” he asked next, and everyone looked around. “I think he’s dancing,” Karen said, pointing at the crowded dance floor.

Marc sat down to catch up with everyone. Their group expanded and dwindled again as people left for food, drink and dancing before others came and took their place. At one point Quinn and Puck came over and she bent down to ask in Sebastian’s ear. “Where’s Hunter?”  

“I thought he was dancing with you,” Sebastian said his brow furrowing as he turned to face her.

”He was, but then he left. I assumed he was going to come be with you guys.” Quinn looked concerned. Sebastian felt an uneasy feeling, the hairs on his neck were bristling and cutting through his buzz. This wasn’t an unheard of check-in between them at parties. There was never a formal plan or specific procedures to hand off Hunter, but sometimes   if Hunter was going through an anxious period it would more or less happen because of this unspoken understanding between Quinn and Sebastian.

Marc, seeing the expression on Sebastian’s face, asked, “Are you okay?”

Sebastian stood up, not answering him. He bumped past a party guest and flashed Rob an urgent look before  striding away in the direction of the balcony. Quinn and Puck followed, hurrying to keep up with his long legs.  “Check his room,” Sebastian said to Quinn. “Puck, check the powder room.” Puck nodded and the three sped off. Santana saw Sebastian fly past her and she looked around, catching Quinn’s eye. Quinn waved her off with a manicured hand but her expression said, ‘No, it’s okay. Not yet, anyway.”

Quinn burst into the room without knocking and let out a big sign of relief. “There you are!” she said, trying to act natural. “What are you up to in here? Just need a break?” she offered.

Rob stood up and shook Marc’s hand.  “Hello Marc.  It’s good to see you.  You’re likewise, looking well.  How have you been since your last visit?”  He chuckled at the question about Barnes and Noble.  “That is something still on the books I believe, but there are some other plans, personally and professionally, for this year. So Barnes and Noble might get a bit of a reprieve.”   He sat back down and enjoyed the company and conversation; being as supportive as he could of Sebastian.

When Quinn appeared at Sebastian’s side though, Rob’s gaze drifted to the dance floor, looking for Hunter.  When Sebastian didn’t answer Marc and instead stood up and fled towards the balcony, with an urgent glance thrown his way. Rob leaned into his wife, grateful for her constant steadying presence in his life.  “So Marc, what are you up to these days?”  

Hunter was still pacing the floor in his room, the first martini done, and the second in his hand.  The bottle of pills were also still in his hand.  He thought about Marc and Sebastian.  He didn’t know how Sebastian had handled the last several weeks of he and Jay, when just seeing Marc sent him into a frenzy.  He was thinking that maybe he should just leave, but he’d barely spent anytime with Quinn and he really didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, goodnight, to Seb.  But he was not going to go near Sebastian as long as Marc was around.  

He startled when Quinn burst into his room.  “Hey,” Hunter smiled, pocketing the pills quickly.  “Yeah.  I needed a bit of a break.  I knew it was going to be difficult, but I didn’t realize some of the ways it would be.  I was just thinking about you though,” Hunter said, coming over to kiss each cheek.   “How I haven’t really gotten to see you yet.  And how sad that was.  Because I should probably leave soon.”  He looked around the room.  “Is it weird that I feel like I don’t belong here anymore?”  Hunter asked.  “And Puck, where’s your lone wolf?”  He spoke quickly, almost rapid-fire, his speech and facial expressions both betraying his anxiety.  

#para:celebration #para:group #all:group #//it wouldn't let me reblog so I started new #tw: substance abuse #tw:drugs

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 4

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond  (established OFC. Although you can just read this one and know what’s going on)

Warnings: profanity, brief mentions of child abuse, spousal abuse, drug and alcohol addiction, childhood cancer, child death

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip, @residentdormouse, @asirensrage, @ocappreciationtag, @ocappreciation, @occommunity, @themaradaniels, @munstysmind, @arrthurpendragon, @secretaryunpaid, @youflickedtooharddamnit​, @starryeyes2000​

My tag list is OPEN! Just ask to be added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/112737319

They choose a waterfront restaurant; his hand on the small of her back as they’re led to a quaint table for two on the outdoor patio. It’s reminiscent of that first night in Bangladesh; the hotel that the team had hunkered down in to iron out the mission’s details and identify and solve any possible strategic errors. She’d found herself incredibly disappointed when Tyler had been absent from the group meal; their initial meeting at his cabin in the outback had stoked the fires of both interest and attraction and she’d found herself desperate to be in his company as often as possible. Finding him incredibly intriguing; the strong, silent type possessed layers of mystery that she longed to chip away at. Anxious to find out the truth behind the stories she’d been told and the reputation that others had created; one of a quiet and extroverted man that could maim and kill without so much as breaking a sweat or blinking an eye. Somehow -despite the briefness of their initial meeting- she had doubted that last part; she’d felt neither intimidated nor scared in his presence and a lingering sparkle in his eyes told of a haunted man that killed for necessity, not enjoyment. And there’d been a gentleness in his smile; a testament to the humanity that still lingered inside of him despite the horrors he’d witnessed in both his military and mercenary careers.

She had quickly grown tired of the relentless -and drunken- ‘shop talk. Disgusted by both the boasting and the graphic descriptions of bloodshed and death and desperately needing a reprieve; excusing herself and ignoring Yaz’ offer of walking her to her room. She had long ago realized that such chivalrous behaviour came with an ulterior motive; lobbed about by touch and sex-starved men that spent too much time around male counterparts that they viewed every woman as a possible conquest. It was the nature of the beast; the price you pay -albeit unfair- for immersing yourself in a career steeped in massive amounts of testosterone.

After a brief stop for a shower and a change of clothes, she’d gone on the hunt; first going by his room and knocking for several minutes before wandering the hotel grounds in hopes of tracking him down. Not wanting to be alone, but was particular about who she wanted to spend her time with; wanting to learn more about him and hear not just the stories of growing up in Australia, but the mere richness of his voice and thickness of his accent. And it should have frightened her; how much she actually wanted to be with him. Mark had nearly destroyed both her body and her spirit and she’d vowed to never let any man get that close to her again; her one and only time of courage afterwards leading to heartbreak and disappointment. But she couldn’t stay away from Tyler; she needed him and wanted him and had suddenly been filled with brazen confidence.

In the end, she’d been rewarded. In more ways than one. Finding him in the hotel bar; spurred on by that warm and welcoming smile that continued to grow as he watched her approach. Welcoming her presence as opposed to being turned off by it; none of the aloofness and irritability that she’d seen him display when Nik had tried to get too close. Instead of rejecting her advances, he’d played into them; ordering them a round of drinks before escorting her -a strong and protective hand on the small of her back- to a booth at the back of the bar. Away from the thickening, noisy crowd; dimly lit and cozy and serving as yet another catalyst for things to develop between them.

It often seems like a lifetime ago. Dhaka. That night in the hotel bar and everything that came after it. The worry and the fear and the bloodshed and death. And those moments on the bridge when she’d willingly put her own life on the line in order to save his; utter terror flooding her senses as she stuck her fingers into his neck to staunch the flow of blood. It had been a decision that came with many parts; each working together to fuel her determination. Truly believing that he’d not only made amends for his mistakes, but deserved a second chance at life. And far more selfish reasons; wanting more time with him and a chance to see if they truly could make something out of nothing.

*****

Tyler watches her face across the table; her pale, smooth skin glowing under the strings of white lights wrapped around the patio’s columns and railings. Her hair pulled back and twisted into a makeshift bun; loose tendrils of hair swaying in the gentle, warm breeze that rolls in off the ocean. She’s a natural yet intriguing beauty that never fails to draw attention; he’s always aware of the admiring and lustful glances that men pass her way, and the looks of pure jealousy they shoot in his direction. Minimal makeup graces her features; their earlier time in the sun leaving her skin bronzed and glowing. And her delicate, petite frame clad in something so simple yet so alluring; a sleeveless, white cotton eyelet blouse and a flowing peasant skirt boasting splashes of purple, pink, and yellow.

She’s oblivious of his adoring gaze. Her eyes riveted on the menu open in front of her; a fingertip between her lips, nail tapping against her teeth. He’d never noticed the ‘little things’ about someone before; the amusement happens and the ‘quirks’ that make up their personality. She hums when she’s content and taps on her teeth when she’s thoroughly engrossed in something, and she twirls her hair when she’s bored and rubs at her right ear when she’s tired.

That quaint table and the smell of salt water and the moonlight dancing on the water is far removed from their beginnings in Dhaka. The crowded and noisy streets and the darkened alleyways with the potential trouble and danger around every corner. It seems a world and a lifetime away; that dirty little hotel room and the uncertainty of the job that lay ahead of them. At night they’d been able to escape from it all; content in the confines of each other's arms and a mess of rumpled and tangled sheets. Just Tyler and Esme; sharing sleepy conversation and light-hearted banter and laughing for the first time in years. Nothing more than Two broken and lonely people finding acceptance and solace in one another.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her reaction is expected. Looking up from her menu with a slow, almost cautious approach; her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed with skepticism. She doesn’t realize she does it every time she’s offered a compliment; weighing not only the words, but assessing both tone of voice and body language. A woman scarred by a lifetime riddled with abuse; a mother who despises her very existence; an ex-husband who thrived on degradation and humiliation. But when she’s satisfied that the compliment is genuine, her entire face lights up; a smile that puffs up her cheeks and crinkles the bridge of her nose and the corner of her eyes.

“You realize you’re just biased, right?”

“Maybe I am. Just a little. But it doesn’t make it less true.”

The smile broadens and she reaches across to push her fingers through his; joined hands resting on the tabletop as they return to their menus. He enjoys the simplicity of the moment; that comfortable silence, the smell of the ocean, and the delicious aromas wafting out from the kitchen. How the rest of the world ceases to exist whenever he’s with her; surrounding conversations and laughter seeming dull and muted. And a pure and innocent intimacy on display; their feet touching underneath the table and his thumb repeatedly brushing against her knuckles as her tiny hand lays nestled within his. Somehow fitting so perfectly together despite the enormous size difference; as if made solely for each other. All things he never experienced with someone before and never knew he craved.

“There are way too many things to choose from,” Esme laments. “But I think I’ve narrowed it down. Between the lemon and pepper swordfish and the mussels and shrimp fettuccine. What do you think?”

“I think you should get whatever you want.”

“They’re kinda expensive though. And probably huge portions. Last thing I need is to get fat. I’ve already put on ten pounds since I moved here.”

“Must be invisible because I sure as hell don’t see it.”

“All my clothes are getting too tight. I’m going to need new ones soon. And then you’re going to find me gross and unattractive and some pretty little thing is going to catch your eye and…���

“First of all, that’s never going to happen. We’ve had this conversation. More than once. There isn’t going to be anyone else. No one is going to show up on my doorstep or catch my eye or anything like that. Second, I wouldn’t give a shit even if you did gain weight. You’re the most beautiful woman on earth. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

“Still…” she sighs, and chews on her bottom lip. “...maybe I should just go for a salad.”

“Maybe you should just order whatever you like. I don’t know if you grew up with this kind of thing, but you don’t have to be this way with me. Never with me. So please…” With his free hand, he snaps her menu closed. “...just get what you want.”

“But they ARE expensive. We’re not exactly rolling in cash. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Are you honestly asking me for permission? To order food?”

A blush creeps into her cheeks and she quickly diverts her eyes. “I hate that I’m like this. I hate that this stupid shit never leaves me alone. Just when I think I’m over it and I’m doing okay….”

“You’re doing great, Me. Way better than a lot would be. You went through a lot. He put you through a lot. The fact we’re even sitting here…the fact you ever trusted me and we’re even together…that’s huge.”

“I just hate this. That I can’t let it go. I can’t let him go. What if it never stops? What if it gets too much to deal with? What if you just can’t put up with it anymore and…”

“That is not going to happen. I already told you that. We each brought our own bullshit to the table when we got together. You going to get tired of dealing with me? And all the crap I came with?”

“No. Of course not. I knew what I was getting into. I knew what kind of baggage you were hauling. Didn’t stop me from wanting to be with you.”

“So why do you think your stuff is suddenly going to bother me? Make me not want to be with you? It’s not going to happen. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week. Not even five, ten years from now.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t…”

“I do know that. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me. So unless you’re planning on cutting me loose…”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I guess we’re both in this for the long haul. Guess we’re both stuck with each other.”

“I’m sorry that I’m like this. That I’m neurotic and anxious and I’ve got all this ex-husband drama. I hate that it probably seems like I’m comparing you to him. Or that I’m expecting you to be like him. And I know you’re not; you’re nowhere close to being like him. I really wish I wasn’t like this. But I’m trying. I really am.”

Giving her a reassuring smile, he raises their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I know.”

****

After dinner they stroll the central market area; browsing in various boutiques and making wish lists of things they’d love for their first home together. And he leaves her by the town fountain as he fetches them ice cream; watching as she seamlessly immerses herself in amicable and energetic conversation with a young couple. Doting over their infant and then willingly and happily accepting the invitation to hold her; allowing mom and dad being able to enjoy their cappuccinos. A broad, beautiful, beaming smile spreads from ear to ear as she cradles the baby close to her chest; her body slowly and rhythmically swaying from side to side.

It’s so typical of her; meeting friends easily and effortlessly, they’re charmed by that warm and welcoming smile and her pint-sized frame and her infectious cheerfulness and optimism. And while he’d grown accustomed to her tenderness and compassion when he’d been healing from Dhaka, he’s never seen her in ‘mother-hen’ mode; her eyes dancing and her face glowing in a way he’s never seen before. That tiny little human bringing out the nurturer in her; the woman that’s wanted to be a mother for so long but had years ago had given up hope. Mark had stripped her of that; blaming her for the miscarriage of their child and calling her ‘defetctive’ and ‘abnormal’ and reminding her -as often and as much as he could- that no other man would ever want her because of it. So when her marriage had ended, so had her hopes of having a child of her own; vowing to never trust another man ever again. Determined to never let anyone get that close; wanting to protect her heart as much as humanly possible.

“Hey!” She cheerfully greets as he joins the group. “Look what I have!”

“You’re not letting her bring the little gal home with us are ya?” Tyler addresses the young couple. “Because I’m warning ya , if houseplants can’t survive around her…”

Esme rolls her eyes dramatically. “I am not that bad. Don’t listen to him. I’ve somehow kept all six foot three, two hundred pounds of him alive, haven’t I? I haven’t killed him. Yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” he teases. “Who’s your little friend?”

“This is Paisley. Isn’t she beautiful!? And so tiny. She’s only two months. Isn’t she a little button?”

The baby’s mother beams with pride over the rim of her coffee cup. “Paisley doesn’t normally take to strangers. I was telling your wife that she must give up good vibes. For a fussy baby to take to her like that.”

“Oh, I’m not his…”

“She gives those vibes off to everyone,” Tyler gently interrupts. “Always making friends, wherever we go.”

“Well, she seems like a natural. You must have little ones of your own at home. How long have you been married?”

“We’re not married,” Esme says, as she carefully lays the infant in her mother’s arms. “We live together, though. In sin.”

“We’re the happily unmarried couple. For now.”

Grinning, Esme accepts the cup of ice cream he offers her. “For now? We’re going to end up the unhappily unmarried couple or…”

He shoots her a wink. “I guess you’re just going to have to wait and find out, aren’t ya.”

Playfully bumping him with her hip, she pops a spoon of rocky road into her mouth.

“I know having kids isn’t for everyone,” Paisley’s father pipes up. “I spent my entire teenage years and most of my twenties swearing I would never have any of my own. I always thought people were nuts for doing it; bringing kids into such a messed-up world. And then I met my wife and everything changed. My entire outlook. On settling down, on being a dad. Isn’t that amazing? How one person can change the entire trajectory of your life?”

“Yeah…” Tyler grins. “...it is. It’s not something you expect, but you soon find out it’s definitely what you needed.”

“He has his moments.” Sneaking an arm around Tyler’s waist, Esme affectionately pinches his side.. “He’s a man of few words, but when he lets them loose? They’re pretty awesome. Makes the heart just go pitter-patter.”

“I swore up and down I’d never get married,” the other woman declares. “I was strong and independent, after all. I didn’t need a man. But when you meet the one, you’re completely powerless. You become a totally different person. Most would hate it and end up regretting it, but not me. It was a change for the better.”

Esme nods in understanding. “I totally get that. I completely gave up my old life for one here. Even left the old me behind. And it was definitely the smartest thing I ever did. I know I won’t be ninety years old and regretting my decision.”

“Forgive me for being so bold, but if the two of you do decide to take that step and have kids, they’re going to be lookers. Be a shame if you didn’t add some of those genes to the world.”

“One day,” Esme says wistfully. “Maybe. We haven’t gotten to that spot in our life yet. We’re still trying to get used to each other, so…”

“Well, you won’t be disappointed. If you do decide to go in that direction. I’m sure you’d both make amazing parents.”

Lingering guilt and regret pull at Tyler’s heart; the often immeasurable pain that still surrounds the decision he made when his son was so sick and close to death. And for not committing to parenthood and his marriage during the healthier times; putting the military before his wife and child and adding to the stress that came with having a cheating spouse. It had been a mess from the beginning; they were barely out of their teens, marrying because of familiarity and comfort and what they’d both assumed had been love.

The last six months have taught him that it had been anything but; finding someone that accepts him -faults and all- and gives him that warm and secure place to let his guard down. He can be vulnerable with her; unafraid to express his feelings and emotions whether it be through actions or words. Slowly shedding that toxic masculinity a little bit at a time; learning how to be an attentive and caring partner and make sacrifices and concessions when it comes to the happiness and comfort of another. When that moment passes, Esme has already said her farewells and wandered away, and he nods at the couple before departing; catching up to her in three long strides and falling in step alongside her.

“She was cute, huh?” Esme glances up at him, a spoonful of ice cream poised at her lips. “Little Paisley? Hard to believe any human is ever that tiny.”

“You’re that tiny now, so….”

“You and your short jokes. All the damn time. I thought my little stature was one of the things that attracted you the most. Because you thought it was adorable. Or…” She eyes him suspiciously. “...did you hook up with me because you have a size kink I don’t know about.”

“A what?”

“A size kink. You’re abnormally tall, you’re insanely strong. You’ve got a foot and eighty, ninety pounds on me. That just screams size kink, if you ask me.”

“I have no fucking clue what a size kink even is.”

“It means someone gets aroused at the distinct size difference between them and their partner. Whether it be height, weight, muscle size, penis size…”

“Penis size? Is there something you’re not telling me.? Something about when you were born, maybe?”

“I was using it as an example. In your case, it would be height and weight. You’re a lot bigger than I am. With that size difference comes a power thing. You can easily manhandle me and…”

“Excuse you? I would NEVER.”

“I mean in a sexual way. It turns you on that I’m smaller. That your size and your strength give you sexual superiority over me. You can easily be in control. Get me to do what you want. WITH consent. You can be aggressive and domineering in ways I can’t. And that gives you a woody. Big time.”

“I feel like I should be lying on a couch, paying you by the hour.”

“Admit it…” She pops a helping of ice cream into her mouth. “...it turns you on. Being with someone so small when you’re so big. And getting to be the dom in the relationship. You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy it. Being the boss.”

“I think we’ve already established that. But a size kink? For real? Sounds like some made up shit.”

“It’s a real thing. And I think you have one. Didn’t you already say that I turn you on in ways none of the other women ever have? Including your ex-wife?”

“I did. But that’s because I love you. Not because you’re small. Your size has nothing to do with it.”

“Were any of them small like me? All your hookups?”

“I mean, there were smaller women. Not as small as you, but…”

“What about your ex-wife?”

“Just a few inches shorter than me.”

“And you’re being totally honest when you say that sex with her and all those hookups weren't as good? You’re being one hundred percent truthful.”

“One hundred percent.”

“Size kink,” Esme concludes, and laughs when he gives a derisive snort. “It’s the only logical explanation!”

“Maybe in your perverted little mind. But in the mind of a normal person, it would mean I’m more attracted to you than I was to them. I find you sexier than I ever found any of them. And you bring a lot to the table. When it comes to sex. It’s…enjoyable…with you. In ways it wasn’t with them.”

“Because of my size.”

“Esme…I swear to God…”

“Fine…fine…I’ll let it go.” Dipping her spoon into the rocky road, she side-eyes him and mutters, “Size kink.”

Scowling, he tugs at her ponytail; chucking and jumping away when she directs a slap toward his stomach. And he once more falls in step beside her, holding the cone in one hand and lays the other on the back of her neck. A companionable silence follows; content in just enjoying each other’s company and the cooler temperatures that have arrived with nightfall.

“Have you ever thought about it?”’ Esme inquires.

“I already told you; I didn’t know what a size kink was. I’d never heard of it before.”

“Not THAT. Have you ever thought of babies? Having one. ”

“I don’t exactly entertain the idea of squeezing a human being out of my dick.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Laughing, he slides his hand from the nape of her neck to her shoulder; pulling her close to him and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He enjoys the change in himself; the break from the darkness that she provides him with. Smiling comes much easier now; the lingering fragments of grief, guilt, and regret giving him more frequent and longer reprieves. And he’s made a conscious decision to enjoy things; relish every moment of the second chance at life that he’s been given. It’s all courtesy of her of course; her quirks and her nuances and all the little things that make Esme, Esme. Her love for cheesy eighties and nineties pop music and the hilariously off-key singing that comes with it. The way she dances around the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts as she makes breakfast and those high-pitched shrieks during ‘jump scares’ in horror movies and how she buries her face in his side during the scarier parts. And that little squeal and the bounce on her heels she gives when she’s practically pleased about a situation; accompanied by those rosy, full cheeks and those enormous, sparkling eyes. Even her cheerful and incessant chatting first thing in the morning is something he’s grown accustomed to and would miss if it suddenly disappeared; grumbling and glaring while he nurses his coffee and she talks his ear off.

He’s come to acknowledge and embrace what her mere presence brings to his life; that immense sense of peace and comfort he experiences at just having her under the same roof. This beautiful, vibrant little being that is the first thing he sees at the beginning of the day and the last he sees before closing his eyes at night. And he’s begun sleeping better than he has in years; able to truly rest knowing that she’s not only tucked safely and securely beside him, but that she’ll still be there in the morning.

“I know what you’re talking about. And yeah, I’ve thought about it. A handful of times. In the course of the last few months.”

“Just since you’ve been with me? Not with anyone else?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else. Not in the way I’m with you.”

“None of your floozies were mother material, huh?”

“Esme, I was with them to get my dick wet. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And you look at me like mother material?”

“You know, you really test the limits of my sanity sometimes,” he teases. “Especially when you ask the obvious.”

“Listen, I’m just starting to find out where I stand. In your life. I need to…”

“Where you stand or where you lay? Because ‘naked and in my bed’ is the answer to that second one.”

“God you’re impossible,” she huffs. “It’s like pulling teeth with you sometimes. All I’m trying to find out is if we’re on the same page.”

“I say shit to get a reaction out of you. You should know that by now. I feed off it; seeing how you react to things. But yes, we are on the same page. I mean, we’re living together. We’ve dropped the L word on each other. We’re talking about getting a house, different careers, and all that.”

“So it’s something we’re both comfortable with. The thought of having kids. Together.”

“I’m more than comfortable with it. Why? Are you trying to tell me something or…?”

“No. I’m not pregnant. We’re not having a baby. I’m just asking all the important questions. Like I said, making sure we’re on the same page with things. “

“We are. I like the idea of having kids. With you. No one else. You.”

“But? I sense a ‘but’ coming here.”

“But are we ready for that sort of thing? Right now? Are we in a good place? To bring kids into things? I’m not too sure about that.”

“I mean, we obviously can’t bring kids up in The Kimberley. At least not where we are. We definitely would have to move. And it IS really soon. We’re only six months into things. We bring a baby into things only half a year in? People are going to think we’re nuts.”

“I don’t give a shit what people think. So it’s only been six months. I know you’re the person I wanted to grow old with. Have a family with. Who gives a fuck what everyone has to say about it? I’m thinking more along the lines that I’m happy with the way things are. It just being the two of us. It’s nice, don’t you think? Being able to just enjoy each other. Do whatever we want. Not worry about not having time for one another. And it would be good to get steady work. Decent money coming in. I don’t want to have to worry about not being able to feed my family.”

“It is nice. Being able to just spend time with one another. Concentrate on each other. Would you stay either the job or…?”

“I’d definitely walk away. Get a normal career. I don’t want my family caught up in that life. I’ve pissed off a lot of people. Stepped on a lot of toes. Last thing I want is some prick hell bent on revenge coming after my wife and my kids.”

. “Wife, huh?”

“I mean, living in sin isn’t a horrible thing. But I don’t want to be the ‘happily unmarried couple’ forever. I kinda like the idea. You being my wife, taking my last name, having my kids.”

“I kind of like it too.”

“You know what else I liked? Seeing you with that baby. You looked beautiful like that.”

Smiling, she snakes an arm around his waist and leans into him.

“I felt nice. Seeing that. I liked it.”

“You know…” she affectionately pats him on the bum. “...you really are a big softie.”

“I guess I am. When it comes to you at least. You seem to bring it out of me. You seem to bring a lot of things out, actually.”

“I know a good thing when I see it. You had a lot of potential. A total diamond in the rough. I mean, how wrong could I go with a complete hottie that’s hung like a horse? I mean, I was scared of the thing. When you first dropped your pants. But I’m no coward and I wasn’t raised a quitter, so…”

“I knew it.” Hand still on her shoulder, he guides her towards the nearest trash can. Disposing of her spoon and empty cup, and then cradling her face in his palms; thumbs brushing across her lips and removing any excess ice cream. “It’s the dick. It’s always been the dick.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, it isn’t JUST the dick. It’s a lot of things.”

He gives her a chaste peck. “Sure it is…”

“It really is!” She argues, attempting to push him away when he leans down to nuzzle her ear. “It’s a pretty lengthy list! Of very good things!”

“Lengthy? I’ve lived with myself for almost thirty-six years now. I’ve been dealing with my own brain for almost two decades. I know EXACTLY how short that list actually is.”

“You’re an insufferable prick,” Esme grumbles, and then squeals when he aggressively pinches her butt; giggling when a strong, calloused palm settles on the small of her back and pulls her tightly into him.

A long, content sigh escapes her lips when he kisses her; hands on his chest for balance as she climbs onto his feet for an extra couple of inches. It…HE…is everything she’s ever longed for; someone not afraid to kiss her and hold her and let everyone know that she belongs to him. Mark had been so different; cold and callous and refusing to both give and receive affection. And it had been so hard; having her love language neglected and starved for years. Relegating herself to a lifetime of loneliness before unexpectedly finding what she needed and wanted in someone just as touched starved as she. His body and soul bruised and weary and his heart broken; a damaged and demon-laden man who -unknown to him- had needed something…someone…to come along and bring him back to life.

He’s smiling when he pulls away; blue eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I’m YOUR insufferable prick. That’s gotta count for something, yeah?”

“Well, I suppose it isn’t that bad. I guess I can put up with you. Until I’m old and gray and senile and completely forget what kind of menace you are.”

“Don’t worry.” He gently loops wayward strands of her behind her ears. “If you do forget, I’ll be there to remind you.”

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he slings his arm over her shoulder as he directs her towards their hotel. Her hand is tucked in one of his jeans' back pockets as he leads her down the crowded sidewalk; protectively guiding her through the sea of people and across the busy road. Making her laugh when he unceremoniously scoops her off her feet; effortlessly lifting her over the cement partition that separates asphalt and beach. And she doesn’t give him a chance to cross over fully; climbing onto the barricade and then hopping onto his back. Arms circling his neck and legs wrapping around his torso.

“Don’t drop me!” she pleads, as he reaches behind in order to grasp the back of her thighs.

“Never.”

“I’m probably heavy.”

“You weigh next to nothing. How heavy do you think you’d be?”

“Like I said, I’ve gained some weight. At least ten pounds. Maybe we should pick up a scale for at home and…”

“Nope. We’re not going to do that.. Nothing good will come of it. You forming a relationship with a scale.”

“But I am heavier,” she laments. “I’m getting chunky.”

“You’re getting on my nerves is what you’re doing. You’re fine. You’re perfect, actually. And if you don’t stop annoying me with this kind of shit…”

“But…”

“Not listening.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme….”

She plants a noisy kiss on his cheek. “You’re so difficult.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Can we just agree? That you look amazing? That you’re sexy as fuck? That even if you DID gain weight, it wouldn’t matter to me?”

“Not even if it’s TONS? Like I get into high double digits for clothes?”

“What part of ‘it wouldn’t matter to me’ didn’t you understand.?”

“This is a battle I’m NOT going to win. Fine…fine…” She gently bites his ear lobe. “I surrender.”

They continue towards the hotel in silence. Esme pressing her heels into his chest whenever she wants him to stop; using her cell phone to snap countless pictures of the full moon and its reflection upon the rippling water. Smiling and cheerfully greeting everyone that passes; the old couples that comment on how ‘adorable’ they are, the younger pairings that eye their enormous size difference with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the tourists that ask for their pictures taken with the moonlight ocean as a backdrop.

“Let’s stop for a bit,” Esme suggests, and he drops to his knees on the sand and allows her to slide off his back. “It’s such a beautiful night. I don’t want to go back just yet.”

“We don’t have to.” He gingerly lowers himself onto the sand; ignoring the various pops and cracks that emanate from his knees, hips, and shoulders. And he sits behind her, stretching his legs out before wrapping both arms around her slender frame and pulling her tightly into him.

“You and your romantic side,” she lovingly chides.

“I don’t not just hear you say that.”

“I know you think it’s ‘unmanly’ to be all soft, sweet, and romantic, but I find it incredibly sexy. It’s a turn-on. A HUGE one.”

Grinning, he places a kiss on her ear. “Maybe we should have just gone back to the hotel.”

“There’s lots of time for that,” she assures him. “Let’s just sit here. Just for a little while.”

Obliging, he drapes one arm across her collarbone and wraps the other around her waist. When she leans back against him, he rests his chin on the top of her head; eyes closing as he breathes in the familiar scent that clings to those dark tresses. And he smiles when she presses a kiss to the top of his wrist and then curls both arms around just one of his; giving a quick, firm squeeze before holding on as tightly as she can. Yet another example of the little ‘things’ he’s come to anticipate and enjoy; those quiet, comfortable moments, the shows of affection, and the ease in which their bodies seem to mould to one another. Joining and fitting together so perfectly despite their vast differences. ******

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“If we do have a baby…”

“When,” he corrects. “When we have a baby.”

“Would you want a boy or a girl?”

“I’d want a healthy baby. And…” he nuzzles her ear with the tip of his nose, then kisses her temple. “…a healthy mumma.”

She grins. “How diplomatic of you.”

“It wouldn’t matter to me. A boy or girl would be fine. Why? You have a preference? For the first one?”

“Not really. I mean, I think most women want a girl, don’t they? A daughter? I’m good with either or. I like to think about it; what your kids would like. A little girl with blond hair and blue eyes. Tall and lanky like her dad. His….”

“Who the hell are you calling lanky?”

“You are all limbs and torso. Very ripped limbs and torso, mind you. I mean, I find you a total hottie.”

“Scars and all?”

“Scars and all. I imagine she has your smile. And your elf ears and your big ass feet with their monkey toes.”

“I thought you said you find me hot. That doesn’t sound like you do. Big ass feet? Monkey toes? Elf ears?”

“I say it with love and you know it. And imagine a little boy? With my hair and your eyes?”

“Is he going to have my feet and ears too?”

“And your big head,” she teases and gives a yelp when he lightly nips at the side of her neck.

“My eyes and your hair, huh? That’s a pretty deadly combination.”

“Our kids will be so beautiful. Insanely beautiful. And when she grows up, our daughter will be tall and leggy; all tanned-skinned and messy, beachy hair and those amazing blue eyes. And she’ll be constantly beating guys off with sticks.”

He scowls. “Excuse me?”

“What? She will! Everyone will want to date her. “

“Think so, huh?”

“I know so.”

“You have any objections to me being the dad that waits up for his little girl? Sits on the front porch with a loaded shotgun in my lap?”

“I kind of do think that’s rather problematic. I don’t think that will sit well. At all.”

“You’re right. It’s a little overboard. I’ll settle for an axe. Hell, I could even do damage with a hunting knife. Wouldn’t be the first time that I had to…”

“How about we not employ weapons when it comes to scaring our children’s dates. Besides, you’re plenty scary without them. When you want to be. Or need to be.”

“You weren’t scared of me. Even though you’d heard all the stories. About me being some legend of some shit.”

“Well, to be fair, the second I looked at you? I was too much in lust to be afraid,” she teases. “All I could think of was finding a way to get into your pants. Or convincing you to get into mine.”

“Wouldn’t have taken much convincing. You would have just had to look at me a certain way and I would have jumped you that same day. Right there in the kitchen. On the table.”

“With Nik there? Kinky…”

“Obviously I would have told her to take a hike. You know, you should have called me that night. For a booty call. I would have shown up.”

“I was going to, but I totally chickened out. I was not in a good place mentally. I would not have been able to handle rejection. Bad enough you shot me down in Dhaka. After plying me with alcohol in the hotel bar all night.”

“First of all, I did not ply you with alcohol. You were a willing participant.”

“So were you. Until you weren’t. Until you totally bruised my ego and caused me emotional damage.”

“I had my reasons. I didn’t do it to intentionally hurt you. Are you going to hold that night against me for the rest of my life?”

“Maybe…” she singsongs, then turns her face into his and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“What’s that saying? All’s well that ends well? Or something like that? I may just be speaking for myself, but I think we both got the ending we deserved. Things worked out pretty well.”

“They did,” she agrees, and affectionately squeezes his arm. “I’m definitely not complaining.”

They lounge in silence for several minutes, listening to the ocean and admiring the way the moonlight dances on the rippling surface. His ear pressed against hers as her fingernails repeatedly glide up and down the forearm draped across her chest.

He places a kiss on the side of her head. “There’s something I need to tell you. Now that we’re talking about next steps and the future and all that. Better to get it out into the opening before I put any babies in ya, I figure.”

She casts a frown over her shoulder. “Sounds serious.”

“It is. It’s definitely something we need to talk about. Or I need to talk. And you need to hear.”

Lifting his arm from her collarbone, she turns to face him, sitting back on her heels and reaching for his hands. “Are you okay? Are WE okay?”

“I’m fine. A little sore still and having a bit of trouble sleeping, but I’m better than I have been in months. Years, even. And yes, we are fine. We are more than fine. I can’t believe you’d even ask me that. Haven’t we been talking about buying houses and getting married and having kids? Think I’d be talking any of that if we weren’t fine?”

She gives a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. My brain immediately goes to the negative. . I guess when you’ve spent years expecting the worst and getting it…”

“We are good. We are more than good. It’s just something I think we need to get out in the open. Sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t want to be as nervous as I am, but…”

“I just need you to listen, okay? I just need to get it out there. Whether it makes any sense or not. I’ll just get it out and then we can talk about it. Sound good?”

She nods.

“As much as there’s a part of me….a HUGE part…that wants that second chance…at being a husband and a dad….there’s also another part…a much smaller one, that’s terrified.”

“Of?”

“I fucked up. Big time. With Sarah and Austin. Not just when he was sick and dying, but for the entire six years that he was on this earth. I wasn’t a good man. I put the military before my family; I ignored them and I neglected them and I was away more than I was home. And I know she wasn’t the best wife; she was emotionally absent and mean as hell at times and was constantly cheating on me while I was deployed. But she still deserved a lot better from me. And so did my son.”

“We all make mistakes. There’s times we don’t treat people as well as we should. But as long as we acknowledge it and regret it and learn from it…”

“We were so young. When we got married. I hadn’t even turned twenty yet. Practically a kid still. I thought she was the one. The person I’d spend the rest of my life with.”

“She was the love of your life. She was…”

“No. She wasn’t. Not even close to it. I mean, I did love her. Or at least it’s what I thought love felt like. When I think about it now, I realize we really just settled. Both of us. Marriage was the logical next step; we’d already been together for a few years and neither of us wanted to put in the work of finding someone else. What we had was comfortable. Familiar.”

“But it wasn’t love.”

“Not real love, anyway. Took me until I was thirty-five to find that.”

Smiling, she leans into him; gentle fingertips clearing the longer strands of hair from his forehead before cradling his face in her palms and kissing him. Long and soft and sweet, yet somehow powerful enough to take his breath away. And when she pulls away, he can’t control the sly grin that curves his lips.

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Frowning, Esme places a palm against his face and gives a playful shove. . “Cheeky fucker.”

He grabs her by the back of her neck when she tries to move away. The resulting kiss much more intense; the hard, demanding press of closed mouth upon closed mouth. “Come on now, you know I meant you.”

“I wasn’t going to assume anything. You assume something and the next thing you know, you’re met with utter disappointment and you end up sitting in the bathtub with your eyeliner and mascara running down your face, eating ice cream straight out of the carton while bitter Taylor Swift break up songs play in the background.”

“Is this something that you’ve experienced a lot, or…”

“Hey, my teenage years weren’t easy, okay? Especially being bi. Do you know what it’s like being short and chunky and having your heart consistently broken by both girls AND boys?”

“Can’t say I do. And just you know, Taylor Swift wasn’t around when you were in high school.”

Esme gives an exasperated huff. “I was using her as an example.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“Okay, so as an adult, I may have faced some rejection. After my divorce. And it may have prompted me to drink half a bottle of tequila, put on some Tay Tay, and sit in the tub and eat an entire carton of rocky road. But it only happened once!”

“Just once, huh?” He brushes wayward strands of hair away from her face “And who is this dick head? That broke your little heart. I may pay him a visit. And break his face.”

“It was a long time ago. More than a year before I met. And yeah, it hurt. At the time. It was my first attempt at trusting someone. After Mark. I guess I was so desperate for someone to love me that I completely read into things. I put all my eggs and one basket and it totally backfired on me.”

“Someone you worked with?”

“Not like I worked with you. Just someone that I occasionally helped out. We were friends. I actually ended up introducing him to his future wife.”

“Ouch…”

“ She was the first friend…non job friend…that I made in New York City. They ended up being way better for each other than he and I ever could. . For what it’s worth, he was a good person. A good man. A lot like you, actually. He was hurting and broken and I could relate to that. I think we were just both so desperate for someone to rescue us and fix us that we didn’t really think things through. Turns out I could trust him with my life, but not my heart.”

“Where is he now?”

“I have no idea. I lost contact with everyone in New York once I started working for Nik. I’d worn out my welcome there. It was time to move on. Professionally and personally. And what’s that saying? All’s well that ends well? If things had worked out there, I wouldn’t be here right now. And if you ask me, I definitely traded up.”

“Did you? Because the whole hurting and broken thing…”

“You’re not broken, Tyler. Not really. A little dented. A little worse for wear. But definitely not broken.”

“Ask me, you have a type. Messy.”

“Messy in the sexiest way possible,” she teases, and squeals when he wraps both arms around her and collapses backwards onto the sand. Snuggling tightly into him, she tucks her face into that warm, comfortable nook between his neck and shoulder and reaches up to gently cup one of his ears; fingertips repeatedly travelling along the outer edge. And she gives a long, content sigh when one of his hands sneaks up the back of her shirt; feeling the callouses against her bare skin. The soft, familiar sensation effortlessly relaxing her; eyes closing and the caressing of his ear ceasing.

“I’m worried I’m going to fuck it up.”

She raises her head to look at him. “What are you…?”

“Us . Once we take things further. Marriage, kids, the whole nine. I’m scared I’m going to end up screwing it all up. Like I did the first time.”

“That’s a long time ago. So many things have changed. YOU’VE changed.”

“I’m worried that I really don’t know the first thing about any of this. Commitment…REAL commitment. How to put someone else first, make sacrifices for them. What if I really am a selfish prick? What if we get married and start having kids and I just make the same mistakes all over again? What if I can’t put you above the job? Just like I couldn’t put her or Austin above the military? What if…?”

“Tyler…” Laying a hand on his cheek, she turns his head to face her. “...you are NOT that person anymore. Not even close to it. You’ve realized your mistakes and you owned up to them. Not to mention you talk about not wanting to go back to being that guy. You are way too determined to be different the second time around. There’s no way you’d let that happen.”

“What if I can’t help? What if it’s just…IN me…to be that way? Some kind of weakness? Something I can’t control.”

“Because you’re self-aware. Because you’ve already made changes. Which shows you ARE in control.”

“I want to do things right this time. As a husband. As a dad. I don’t want to make the same fucking mistakes twice. End up a total failure. Not in your eyes.”

“That’ll never happen. I would never look at you that way. Ever.”

“I just want to be what you want and need. And deserve.”

“You are,” she assures him. “I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. I wouldn’t…”

“You make me want to be a better man.”

She blinks. “What?”

“You do. You make me want to be better. And do better. I want to be the husband and the dad you and our kids can be proud of. So years from now…when I’m gone…you can look back and say I did what was best for my family. I took care of you, loved you, and did good things. I was there. I was home and present and always put you guys first. And all that? That’s all ‘cause of you.”

Tears well in her eyes; lower lip and chin trembling as she tries to hold back her emotions.

“Please don’t….fuck….” Cradling the back of her head in his palm, he presses a kiss to her brow. “...don’t cry….I hate when you cry. Especially when I’m the one doing it.”

“They’re not bad tears. They’re good ones. Happy ones. I’ve just never had someone say something like that to me before. I think it’s the most beautiful compliment anyone has ever given me.”

“It’s the truth. I want to be the person you deserve. I don’t want to make you all kinds of promises and break every single one. I don’t want…”

She pecks his lips to silence him. “I think you underestimate yourself. You are so determined to be a better person. And you already are. You’ve come a long way in just the time I’ve known you. You talk openly about feelings and things that are bothering you, you’re not as embarrassed to show emotion, you’ve gotten rid of a lot of that toxic masculinity. That’s a big change, Tyler. For anyone.”

“I just don’t want to fuck it up. Be a total disappointment. I didn’t exactly have the best role model; I didn’t really have a lot to look up to when it came to being a husband and father. What if I turn out just like him? What if there’s something in me that…”

“You are nothing like him. You never could be. You…”

“Where do you think I got all the bad stuff from? The anger issues and the drinking and the uncanny fucking ability of making the worst possible decisions?”

“I think you have more than enough reason to have some of those things. I think you had a shitty childhood and the lack of stability and love and all the abuse completely traumatized you. I mean, you used to hear and see him beat your mother. You lost the only good person in your life when you were just a kid. And then he made you his punching bag and…”

Smirking, he playfully tugs on her ponytail. “I knew hooking up with someone with a psychology degree was going to backfire on me.”

“You don’t need a psychology degree to realize trauma really fucks people up. It leads to so many problems. Anger management issues, alcohol and drug dependency, sexual promiscuity…”

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“You went through your man whore stage. You sowed your wild oats all over the damn globe. You keep ready and available women in ports all over the place. You were obviously looking to fill some kind of hole inside of you…”

“No. I was looking to fill some holes in other people.”

She scowls.

“Let’s not pretend it was anything other than wanting to get my dick wet. Can we agree on that? I just wanted to get laid. Without any strings attached. Don’t read too much into it.”

“You didn’t want to form connections and feel things for people because it scared you. Because the last time you felt something…truly felt something…it totally bit you in the ass. Your mother died, your wife turned out to be a total heartless skank, your son got cancer and suffered. Everyone you loved, you lost. And you didn’t want to go through that again. It would make sense that you’d turn to meaningless sex. It was a way of protecting yourself.”

“No. It was a way of getting laid. I wasn’t looking for anything else. Just that. We’re going to have to agree to disagree on this, because…”

“Leaving your slutty, perverted ways out of things, you’re nothing like your father, okay? You ended up angry and turning to drugs and pain meds to numb the pain. You suffered all that abuse and then tremendous loss and it’s only common sense that if you were never taught proper coping skills you’d turn to those things.”

“And what if I turn to them again? When things get rough? Because they will. Esme. I’m not perfect. I’m not the easiest person to live with. What if we go through a really bad stretch of things and I don’t know how to cope? Without the booze or the pills. Then what?”

“Then we work through things together. Like a healthy, committed couple does. You’re not in this alone anymore Tyler. I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter how messy things get. And if you do slip, then we deal with it as a team.”

“You really are a glutton for punishment.”

“Good things are worth fighting for. And you’re a good thing. A very good thing.”

“You don’t deserve any of that. That kind of mess. I don’t want to do that to you. I don’t want to be that guy again. I don’t want to be a mean husband or an angry dad. And if that’s all I know…”

“There is no way you could EVER be anything like him.,” she insists. “ You’re way more of a man than he could ever hope to be. And yeah, you made some mistakes; when it came to Sarah and Austin. But you’ve learned from them. And you’ve grown a lot since then. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t. You wouldn’t be stressing out the way you are. You wouldn’t be worried or scared of any of that. This is all a good thing. Tyler. The fact you’re feeling all of this and able to even talk about it? That’s HUGE.”

“I just want to do it right. I want to be who you need and want. And deserve.”

“To me, you already ARE those things. And that’s not going to change. You’re not going to wake up one day and be a completely different person. Things can only get better, right? Onwards and upwards.”

You know,” he smooths loose tendrils of hair away from the sides of her face. “You have an awful lot of faith in me.”

Smiling, she runs her knuckles along his jaw and softly pecks his lips. “Somebody has to.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #TW: child death #tw: cancer #tw: child abuse #tw: spousal abuse #tw: substance abuse #Chris Hemsworth #Extraction fan fic #tyler rake fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Rake

[inherstars]

When we first started dating, my husband told me a story about his Mom and his sister.

His sister, in every way a good girl and a good student, had made some small teenage slip-up of smoking a cigarette or maybe having a drink with her friends, and her parents found out.

Their mother took her out of school the next day, and they went out to get their nails done, their hair done. They had a nice lunch together, she took her out and bought her a cute outfit. Afterwards she sat her down and said, "Did you have a nice time today?" When his sister agreed that she had, their mother said, "Good, I'm glad. You can either have it this way, and enjoy nice things, or you can keep drinking / smoking, and you won't have these things anymore."

Sister decided that nice things and nice days out were the way to go, and it was never a problem again.

When we moved my parents here, I feel like this is the conversation I should have had with my mother.

When we moved them here in the summer of '18, my Mom was still all-in on a steady diet of Vicoprofen and some kind of anti-depressant that I don't remember, the combination of which alternately turned her in a zombie or a rage monster, and had some other unpleasant physical side-effects as well.

It took a good year to get her off of both these drugs. It helped that our area has a huge opioid problem, and doctors are gun-shy about prescribing unnecessary narcotics. Not that she didn't put on a VERY good show. Every day she was wincing and sucking her teeth over some new excruciating pain -- her hip, her back, her shoulder, whatever. When one failed to illicit the reaction she was hoping for, it miraculously got better and something else would start to pain her.

It also helped that when I would take her to these appointments, I would pull the nurse aside and let them know that she has a history of drug and alcohol abuse that she will not personally disclose.

She went through a LOT of doctors those first few months. You could tell the instant she asked for narcotics and was denied, because it was immediately a snappish declaration of, "I don't like this doctor, I don't think he knows what he's talking about."

Eventually all that shit got out of her system. The pains all suddenly went away, no more ooch'ing and ouch'ing, no more falling asleep slumped over her chair, no more shitting herself constantly and losing her dentures constantly.

For a long while, in fact, everything was fine. Which isn't to say she was always pleasant, because she's often still miserable and ungrateful, but she definitely became more tolerable. And for a while we had a pretty decent relationship.

I would take her out shopping, and introduced her to stores that she'd never been to before, and enjoyed. I would bake things for her and buy her little gifts. We would send each other memes and funny cat videos back and forth on Instagram. It was probably as good as it had ever been.

The problem is, I let my guard down. And that's where I fucked up.

She had an unrelated medical event (unrelated, although directly caused by her love of self-diagnosing and self-medicating herself, this time incorrectly), which landed her in the hospital, and which she managed to parlay into two separate prescriptions for Oxy, plus some muscle relaxers, plus some barbituates.

Suddenly she was spending all day slumped over her chair passed out, waking up only to argue with me or her husband, or shit herself.

I called her newest PCP, who -- surprise! -- had no idea that she had ANY history of substance abuse, and prescribed Narcan. Then we had a fun trip to the hospital, where we got to spend a fun 4 hours of her alternately vomiting into an emeses bag, howling that she was in pain and that everyone there was an idiot, and insisting that she hadn't taken a single pill that she shouldn't have in the past 27 years.

The level of delusion is astounding. Addicts live in their own reality.

All this to say that it's been a rough month or so of ER visits, hospital visits, rehab visits, medical ups and downs, caring for her and my stepfather while trying to also hold down my regular full time job and not just come home at 8:30 and immediately go to sleep.

She was released from the nursing facility on Wednesday, and immediately got snippy with me, demanding to know where her fucking pills were. Because I guess she assumed I'd just... what, leave them behind?

Right now, tentatively, she is back to taking care of herself and her husband, and I'm trying to get back to what was previously my normal life. She still can't drive, so anything beyond puttering back and forth is still left to me, but at least I don't have to make the trip there twice a day, and get an eyeful of my stepfather's naked 90-year-old ass and balls, because he refuses to wear pants.

But she's also doing things like sending me memes and funny cat videos on Instagram. And it's clear... she wants that back. She wants to have it both ways. I think she thinks I'm "mad at her" and that's why I'm not responding, that's why I'm going through the motions and doing what needs to be done, but declining to hug her or send her heart emojis or be her friend.

I don't want to be her friend. She had the choice of the good life -- shopping trips, little gifts, day to day conversation -- or drugs, and at the very first possible opportunity, she decided she wanted drugs.

I'm not sure if she'll ever ask, but I'm trying to formulate in my head how I'll explain to her, if I need to, that it's over now. The station is closed, the lights are off, the train doesn't stop there anymore.

You had a choice, and you made it, and you are already way, way past your lifetime allotment of do-overs.

#personal #tw: addiction #tw: drugs #tw: substance abuse

[thecurseisinourblood]

Have a super messy write-up of some of my more recent thoughts. @murroyilodel and I are always brainstorming to further flesh out and develop the nuances of our muses. Despite my publishing very little of it, things seem to grow and change every week. Be warned that ahead will include some things quite personal to mun. All of this is regarding my modern interpretation of Frollo.  A trigger warning for child abuse and substance abuse ahead.  I determined long ago that I wanted my modern interpretation of Frollo to experience rather severe child abuse. Initially, this was an uninformed choice, understanding little about how that can affect one’s behavior long term. But I began to do more and more research and came to the conclusion that this could contribute to his aggressive behavior and his more solitary lifestyle.  Years after that, I realized just how much I gleaned from my own personal struggles while writing for Claude. How much pain and distrust of others I was pulling from myself to write him. Unfortunately, I was one of those ignorant people who thought my punishment as a child never affected me. Only recently have I put together that my whole life began to change after my parents’ punishments became more severe. I remember distinctly that my dad told me they stopped using the belt on me when they figured out that humiliating me in front of family members or putting me in time out in a public space was far more effective. Over the course of these faded memories, I do remember how anxious and insecure I became. Projecting my own pain, insecurities, jealousy, anxiety and distrust through Frollo really helped me when I was younger to work on my emotional intelligence and try to be more confident. Even now, I still have these struggles, but at least I am not as much of an asshole anymore.  That being said, I’ve learned more about attachment styles. I believe that Frollo has a dismissive avoidant attachment style, especially when he was younger, but as he has aged, and with certain people he began to fall into fearful avoidant.  As the first one implies, they are more dismissive of others’ feelings. They were forced to become self-reliant. Have trust issues. A negative view of peoples’ intentions. They repress their needs and emotions. when they feel hurt or angry they withdraw entirely. Becoming too close with others makes them feel trapped. Being independent is the most important thing. <-- this is all disney Frollo btw and with Frollo’s very intimate relationships, he leans toward fearful with some anxious tendencies. He is often afraid if he gets too close, they will leave. If he makes too many mistakes or disappoints them, they will leave. disappointing his family at all brings him an overwhelming amount of shame, embarrassment, and self-loathing. He will withdraw when feeling rejected or overwhelmed. There will be a time with Esmeralda where he flees for months, then upon his return, potentially suggest they break up in a fit because he thinks she wants to break up anyway. He works very hard to avoid intimate conversations. The few times his loved ones have serious talks with him, he shuts down completely. Feels like it is the end of the world cuz he’s not perfect.  Besides Lucy and the Judges, Claude managed to screw up every close relationship he has had, and fully believes it is just a matter of time before people grow apart/abandon him. IF my Claude were not a virgin, my Claude would most likely be a compulsive sex-addict. The dysregulation of emotion, the lack of respect for others’ feelings, the impulsive tendencies when he’s feeling depressed, turning to alcohol abuse and pill abuse etc, all lead me to believe there would be no stopping him. The lack of real intimacy and the fear of real intimacy, yet the craving of intimacy would lead to the cycle of fucking anything he could. Which would also lead to more alienation, shame, and believing he is unlovable. Meanwhile his brother Jehan is dismissive avoidant as well, except for when it comes to Claude. Claude is the only person Jehan feels even more anxious avoidant than fearful avoidant because of Claude’s neglect. For the most part, Claude is confident in himself, his work, his worth. However, over time he is made aware of how different he is. As an INTJ, my modern Frollo tends to pride himself on his independence and logic. Although he can be charming and witty if he wishes, there is little, to no emotion in his day to day. Everyone is laughing and he can’t laugh with them. It’s not always about being stuck up or uncomfortable, he just can’t feel the same way as them. He cannot partake. These doubts also extend to his personal relationships. Claude knows he isn’t fun, or the life of the party and doesn’t think he could contribute or relate to these kinds of social gatherings. Claude dated a lot in his 30′s and was confident and uncouth, but no one was able to catch his interest.  His status as a confirmed bachelor, his brilliance, and his inability to relate to those around him have convinced him that he is an oddity that no one understands, particularly in his 40′s.  By the time Delice comes in, Claude wants to lose his virginity. He finds her charming, smart, engaging, and beautiful. He likes that she is a snob like him. She makes him laugh. She knows how to tease him and talk to him and repartee. Despite not wanting a woman to fuck him for status, Delice was the one girl who made him think it would be worth it. She wanted him and she wanted to marry him. She was the solution to his problems. Companionship, sex, and most importantly, no intimacy. That’s right. Frollo got stars in his eyes because he knew the nature of their relationship would not be intimate. There would be no love. It would be like an arrangement. It would be business. It would have mystery. No hard conversations, no way to get hurt. (except he doesn’t think at that time how she could hurt him. Which essentially is just her never wanting to sex him ever again, being passive aggressive, condescending, humiliating him, and cheating on him. but anyway) However, Lucy and the judges are very confused. Delice is a horrible person and Lucy eventually puts an end to their flirting period. Claude is super humiliated and upset that he didn’t make his own mistakes. He wanted that fuck up for himself and he resents Lucy for it for around 6 months.  This event made him snap at Lucy for wanting him to go on yet another date. Frollo’s tired of new beginnings, he’s tired of trying. After they don’t let him fool around with Delice, he is convinced he won’t like another girl. He’s upset and reluctantly accepts that he will never experience a partner.  No one in the family understands why Claude would even look at her. They’ve introduced him to plenty of great women, and he picks a snobby bitch who would divorce him for his money. Having no idea the reasons behind Frollo’s feelings, they often all still worry about Delice or tease him about Delice, which causes Frollo to become very upset, but he hides it well. They think it is a joke, but Frollo feels overwhelmed and humiliated every time.  By the time Esmeralda arrives, Frollo is more cynical, jaded, and sexually frustrated than he has ever been. Having a superiority complex over women already, he thinks very lowly of her, which bites him, since Esmeralda has managed to woo everyone in his close circle of friends. Yeh, so Frollo’s lust and anger are out of control for about 6 months until he realizes he’s in love with her. Completely in love. Which makes him even more depressed and spiral even more.  ~End

#mun is just spitting words #don't mind me #;meta #calligraphy #I forgot to throw in how much of a sap Remy has become guys like he is the super sweet daddy figure to fros now #he used to just be a fuckboy #but now he is a elder fuckboy with a heart in a poly relationship with lucy and eventual sponsor to Fros #TW: child abuse #TW: substance abuse