REBLOG IF I CAN MESSAGE YOU 'HEY' AND START A FRIENDSHIP.
always gonna re-reblog

izzy's playlists!
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Product Placement
ojovivo
I'd rather be in outer space đž
Mike Driver

ç„æ„ / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
tumblr dot com

Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
KIROKAZE
Claire Keane

#extradirty
Peter Solarz
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cherry valley forever

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dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline
seen from United States
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seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Bangladesh
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@jessie-almost-there
REBLOG IF I CAN MESSAGE YOU 'HEY' AND START A FRIENDSHIP.
always gonna re-reblog
Collision ~ Sickfic (OCs)
Look who's back! I had to write more about Jamal and Nikita, they won my heart in an instant and I wanted to explore their personalities and relationship a little more. Of course, paired with pain and suffering and subsequent caretaking. Anyone surprised? It's a bit more dramatic this time. Please enjoy and let me know if you liked it.
TW: Injury, vomiting
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It had been such a dumb and pointless fight. Admittedly, most fights are dumb and pointless when you look at them from a distance with a clearer mind. There was no way Jamal could have predicted the later events, but it didn't take away from the anger and regret he felt.
For the last month, he had been frequently hanging out with Nikita - the guy he used to avoid like the plague until that fateful night when Jamal had cared for him while the idiot was dead drunk. They had come to a silent agreement to a) never mention the locker room incident and b) never question why they spent time with each other in the first place. Instead, they were just going with the flow and didn't look too closely at where it was taking them day by day.
A reluctant caregiver ~ Sickfic (OCs)
I've been really intrigued by the idea of someone ending up in the caregiver role against his will for a person he can't stand. It's about OCs this time because that's what I'm most comfortable with. What was supposed to be just a little drabble ended being quite the long story, as usual. Hope you like what my brain came up with, let me know if you want more.
TW: Sickness, vomiting
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Need a good puke and a warm hug
Everything is just too much nowadays. All I want is someone to binge with, get drunk with, and then be held as I throw up everything; food, liquor, sorrows.
Reblog if you're into emeto!
yes
Iâm looking for more blogs to follow!
If you post emeto, whump, or sickfics, please reblog this post!
This is my sideblog, so follows will be from my main. Iâm pretty new to the illness & injury community, and I only know a couple blogs.
emeto forever :)
The vomiting styles of the Osomatsu sextupletsÂ
Author anonymousÂ
Iâm the blue.
Iâm looking for more blogs to follow!
If you post emeto, whump, or sickfics, please reblog this post!
This is my sideblog, so follows will be from my main. Iâm pretty new to the illness & injury community, and I only know a couple blogs.
Harley is a gift from God.
This is why Harley is like my all time favorite!
Why did they leave out the best part of this scene?;
The character development of Harley is probably one of the better things DC has done with their characters.
sickfic prompt anyone??
The road less taken, part III (Evan & Alex)
Alex has to break the news to Evan about his sister, and there is no way in hell this could ever go well.
cw: illness, self-harm
It wasnât yet dark when Alex returned home, to find Evan waiting for him as always. He spent more and more time there instead of the apartment he still shared with Jay, to the point that living officially together had crossed both their minds. They were however taking it slow, each equally amazed as to how smooth their ride turned out to be, in contrast to their previous relationships (or lack thereof, in the case of Evan). Just a few bumps on the road, related to each of them as a personality and not their relationship as a couple; such as Evanâs ADD, with the odd panic attack here and there, and Alexâs long-standing issues with weight and self-harm. He hadnât been to a therapist yet, despite Evanâs insistence, but he had seen a nutritionist to at least get some semblance of order regarding his eating habits. Things were a little more fuzzy on the other issue. It was one of the few lies heâd told Evan. It never stopped. He wasnât cutting anymore, yes, but he had other ways to make himself hurt when the darkness inside was overwhelming and threatened to swallow him whole.
On the ride home, he had prepared a speech which promptly evaporated when he faced his boyfriend, still oblivious of the ton of bricks that was about to land on his head. Something of the sort must have been written all over his face, because Evan came up to him in an instant, worry creasing his features.
âBabe? Whatâs wrong?â
âLetâs sit down, Ev.â Alex said, motioning towards the couch. But Evan was faster, and stronger, and held him in place.
âBabe, youâre scaring me. Please just tell me, I know thereâs something wrong. Oh, God. What is it?â
Alex hugged him tight and could feel him tremble in his embrace. Too perceptive for his own good, this boy.
âEv, letâs just sit down so we can talk. Please.â Without waiting an answer, he took him by the hand and led him to the couch. They both sat down, still holding hands.
âI met your sisterâs wife todayâ Alex said somberly. Evan was dumbfounded.
âMy whatâs what? Is this a joke?â
âYour sister Mackenzie is married to Milagros, a... colleague of mine at St. Judeâsâ Alex said and gave Evan some time to absorb the facts.
âMy sister is gay?â Evan asked after a few seconds of stunned silence.
âApparently so.â
âHow... Why... Why didnât she...â
âTell you?â said Alex gently.
âFuck yes. After.. after all I have...â his voice caught and he held Alexâs hand even tighter.
âHow long itâs been since you last saw her?â asked Alex in the same gentle tone.
âFour... no, five years? Right after I moved here. She was still married to that creeper Harold. How come she...â Evanâs voice trailed off, lost in thought. His eyes watered and Alex pulled him close again.
âMilagros came to find me because Mackenzie is very ill. She has cancer. Iâm so sorry, Evâ
Evan pushed him away, a shocked and pained expression on his face.
âTell me everything.â he said, and Alex did. As soon as he mentioned how the cancer was caught when she became pregnant, Evan broke down completely.
âItâs all my faultâ, he wailed, over and over.
âEv, how can it be your fault? Itâs not. It canât beâ Alex tried to reason with him.
âI... I canât breatheâ was Evanâs panicked reply before he started hyperventilating.
Alex was quick to his feet, dragging Evan with him. Heâd been through this before and knew what helped his boyfriend. He got him to the kitchen, sat him down next to the open window and pushed a paper bag into his hands.
âBreathe for me Evan. Come on now. Here you go. Youâre breathing just fine. Thatâs it. Youâre doing greatâ he encouraged him while he wet a washcloth to place on the back of his boyfriendâs neck.
âYou donât- understandâ said Evan after a while, leaving the paper bag crumpled on the kitchen table. He was still hiccuping but his breath was almost back to normal.
âIâm listening. But first, we could use a drinkâ replied Alex, taking out a bottle of malt and two glasses from a cabinet. He then lit a cigarette and gave it to Evan, who nodded appreciatively at this small gesture of tenderness that always got him, whatever was happening around them.
âI love you.â said Evan, downing his glass in one go.
âI knowâ Alex replied with his best Han Solo voice, which managed to get a pained smile from Evan.
âYou might hate me after you hear what Iâm about to sayâ Evanâs voice was hoarse from crying but had a steel undertone that Alex had rarely heard from his boyfriend.
âEvan, there is nothing in this world that could make me hate you.â Alex replied quickly, and that reassurance seemed to be enough for Evan to continue.
âLast time I saw Mack, it was after the final straw with my folks. I was... I was not in a good placeâ
The understatement of the year, Alex thought. Evan had shared bits and pieces over the months they were together, but he learned the whole story after Evan got wasted on Fatherâs Day, and in between vomiting in the Anchorâs toilets, stumbling home and passing out on his bathroom floor, he had explained to Alex how his brothers outed him, his father disowned him and threw him out of the house with only the clothes on his back and his scholarship letter in his pocket.
âI was sleeping at the youth shelter when she came to find me. I asked to stay with her. She said no, because of Harold. She offered me money. I threw it in her face. She... she was trying for a baby back then. IVF, the whole works. Donât know if they succeeded afterwards, I always thought so. I always imagined her as a subdued suburban mom somewhere out there. But I... I told her that she was the same as the rest of them, that whatever happened to me would be her fault, and that I hoped she remained barren, never burdening this planet with one more shitty Rossdale spawn. I really said that, Alex. And I fucking meant it.â Evan said, downing his second drink.
âOh, Evâ Alex cupped his boyfriendâs face in his hands and kissed him tenderly. âI donât hate you, nor love you less.â he reassured him once again.
âSheâs dying, isnât she?â was Evanâs question, looking Alex straight in the eye.
âI donât know the details, Ev, but it sounds bad. Milagros was... pretty clear on the severity. I wish I could tell you differently.â
Evan took to refilling their glasses, shaking his head. âI donât know what to do with all thisâ
âLookâ Alex started tentatively. âItâs been five years. Youâve both changed. Thereâs a lot between you and her, both good and bad. Some things you can repair, some things you can take back. Others, no. But death... you canât take back death. That I knowâ
Evan finished his drink and rolled a cigarette with slow, precise motions.
âGive me her number, thenâ
*to be continued*
Tony Stark: Friday give me a status report. How is my new Avenger getting along with the team?
Friday: Jessica Jones has proceeded to tell Captain America or as she refers to him Captain Popsicle to eat her ass four times, had sex with Thor, drank half of your liquor cabinet, proceeded to threaten Mr.Barton that she would report him to the IRS if he didn't give her the last piece of pizza,was tazed by Miss Romanoff twice and is currently playing Mario Kart with Mister Hulk
Tony Stark(tearing up): She is perfect
The road less taken, part II (Evan & Alex)
Alex found out that Evanâs estranged sister is dying.
Milagros kept crying and Alex was unable to comfort her in any way. In a part of his mind, she was still the Bitch, one who judged way too harshly parents who tried their best and reported them to CPS without a second thought. In another one, she was queer just like him and was mourning the impending loss of her partner. Nothing he could say would come out right at that moment, so he settled on silence. After a while, Milagrosâ sobs ceased. She took a few deep, steadying breaths, blew her nose, wiped her face and lit another cigarette.
âSorry about that. Itâs hard. One moment you think youâre coping and the other one, bam, youâre a crying messâ she said.
âI.. Iâm sorry. I canât even imagine what you must be going throughâ he said, surprising himself with the tenderness in his voice.
âNeither can I, even though Iâm right there. Itâs like an out of body experience sometimes.â She stopped to blow her nose again. âAnd thank you. I know we donât always see eye to eye and youâre not particularly fond of me, so thank you for listeningâ
âItâs not... Iâm not...â Alex couldnât place the guilt he felt upon hearing this honest truth.
âYou refer to me as that bitchâ she said, looking quite amused.
âIâm sorryâ Alex said, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable.
âDonât be. Or, be, I donât know, itâs up to you who you like and who you merely tolerate. I hate half the people working here anyway.â she said nonchalantly, stubbing out her smoke. âYou think Iâm too hard on others, is that right?â she asked while getting up.
âAnd you must think Iâm too softâ was Alexâs reply.
âI think youâre young. Thereâs a difference. But you honestly care for others, and sometimes thatâs what matters in the endâ
âSo which half am I in?â Alex asked. âI mean, the half you hate or the half you donât?â he added in response to Milagrosâ questioning expression. The smile she gave him was the first genuine one he had ever seen on her. It transformed the entirety of her features, made her look like less the stern nun and more the welcoming auntie.
âTalk to Evan. Be strong for him. And holler if you need anythingâ, she said, handing Alex a business card from her handbag.
With that she was gone, heels clicking on the tarmac of the bay.
âMilagros!â Alex called after her.
She turned, surprise evident on her expression upon hearing him use her first name.
âItâs sister-in-law. What you are to me, I meanâ
The sound of her laugh came crystal clear, despite the distance and the roar of the vans. She nodded appreciatively and went inside, leaving Alex battling with his thoughts and worries.
*to be continued*
The road less taken, part I (Evan & Alex)
A new arc for my favourite couple, where things are getting rough for all involved.
Alex was having lunch in the hospital cafeteria, trying to make himself finish his meatballs, or whatever it was that they were serving disguised as meatballs. He was so focused on his task that he barely registered someone occupying the chair across him.
writerâs block and loneliness
Iâve been trying to write and as you can imagine itâs not going well. Iâve got a lot on my mind and on my plate in general, which is obviously not helping, but writing used to be a sort of safe haven from all the outside fucktwattery. It still is, I guess, just a tad more difficult to get there.
I also find myself more in an angsty/whumpy territory these days when it comes to fics, which I very much enjoy; however it is more challenging to accomplish. And then itâs even harder to stay motivated.
If there are any brave souls out there who would like to collaborate on ANYTHING writing-related (or just want to send ideas and prompts my way), I would be absolutely ecstatic to hear from you. I may feel too old to be in touch with most fandoms (another thing that adds on to the feeling of loneliness while wandering in all these -otherwise fantastic and a true lifeline- communities) but a story is a story, and I think I can tell a few if only I can find the right way there.
Emeto chat
Anybody up for chatting, hit me up! Iâve got some uninterrupted online time and the house to myself (no sir, I did not google âhow to get rid of your housematesâ for the 10th day in a row) and would love to chat about emeto stuff and experiences ^^
reasons i havenât replied back:
- iâm socially exhausted - i donât have the time right now - i donât know how to reply - i have a bad memory and got distracted - iâm having a depressive episode and donât have the energy to socialise
not reasons i havenât replied back:
- iâm ignoring you just because - i hate you - iâm fed up with you - i donât want to be your friend anymore
Always this
I always feel so guilty trying to explain to ppl that no, itâs not that I donât want to talk to you, Iâm justâŠ. any of the reasons listed above
I usually say âsocially burnt outâ as a catch-all đ
romanticizing mental illness is dangerous and misleading
Artsy depression: haunted eyes, good at art, emo hair and eyeliner on point
Actual Depression: bloodshot eyes, no longer trust themselves with pencils, has not showered in five days
Quirky OCD: organized books, clean room, color coordinated outfits
Actual OCD: Intrusive thoughts, flipping the light switch 8 times so you donât stab your brother, picking holes in your skin
Cute eating disorders: Slim trim and beautiful, shyly refusing a second helping, dancer aesthetic
Actual eating disorders: Puffy cheeks and eroded teeth from excessive vomiting, hair growing over your freezing body and refusing to eat carrots because theyâre too high in carbs
Adorable anxiety: just a smol bean, soft, must be protected from the world
Actual anxiety: crying so hard you throw up, shaking, losing sleep over a period after the âokayâ
RPG PTSD: flashbacks, vietnam, u donât know what iâve been through kiddo
Actual PTSD: Buying your first pregnancy test at twelve, flinching at high fives, i canât feel my hands where am I what year is it
Cartoon ADHD: look a squirrel, something shiny, fidgety loveable bufoon
Actual ADHD: rereading the same page over and over because it doesnât make sense, hasnât done the laundry in four months, hyperfocusing on a mushroom knowing you have work to do
stop making terrifying realities seem cute. itâs disrespectful for those of us who are actually struggling
Fucking preach.
Uwu smol baby autism: adorably awkward, huggable, acts cute when confused, has some sort of rainman talent and a perfect memory in general
Real autism: worrying about whether youâre interpreting peopleâs cues correctly/making your tone sound correct for the context, or whether theyâre about to get wierded out and uncomfortable bc of something you said, sensory issues that drive you nuts, not being able to adapt to sudden changes in plans and freaking out, melting down or shutting down when stressed by stupid things
Reblogging for the autism part that is just too realÂ
I would not have started using unhealthy coping mechanisms if people hadnât romanticized them
I would not have started using unhealthy coping mechanisms if people hadnât romanticized them