self loathing is exhausting

fires, chapter one

Title: Fires
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Pairing: Rick x Michonne
Rating: T
Summary: "Because sometimes fires burn to make way for something new…something beautiful.“  The evolution of Rick and Michonne’s relationship throughout the course of season seven.
Author’s Note: So I was going to post this as a one-shot, but it was getting too long.  The first chapter is a series of post-episode vignettes for 7x04, 7x05, 7x08, and 7x09.  Then the second chapter will go into what we haven’t seen yet, all spoilers disregarded and purely based on my imagination.  

Apart from those first two episodes, I’m going to do my best from stay away from too much angst, because I’ve written a lot of it and I honestly think, now that they’re on the same page, Rick and Michonne have turned a corner and will be able to find happiness despite their circumstances.

Love and thanks to you all, xoxo.

Read on AO3 or as well.



She sees him differently, now.

Not in the way he fears, of course.  Not in the way that shines in his eyes when Negan comes to visit them, as he is forced to stand there holding his awful bat while that fiend laughs. As he watches strangers confiscate what his family’s worked so hard for without a second thought.

Not in the way that puts a quiver in his voice whenever he must stand in front of his community, in front of these people who ignore him when he succeeds and hate him when he fails, and tell them that this is the way it is now, there’s no second chances, there’s no other option, there’s no way out.  When his son glares at him as he tries to get through his young, rebellious mind that this is way it is now and everyone has to accept it, because there’s no going back.  When he stares at her with hollow eyes and mumbles that this is the way it is now, that they can’t fight, that they don’t have the numbers and they’d never win.

Not in the way that slumps his shoulders when it is late and dark and they are alone, when he can barely look at her because he’s afraid of what she’ll think and he’s afraid of what he’ll see in her eyes.

Not in the way that etches lines in his face that cry out to her when the two of them are draped in silence.

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Fantasy Drabble - Part V

Inspired by this anon

| part one| part two | part three | part four | side drabble |

The worst days are the ones where Fantasies don’t feel like enough.

Nine days into their arrangement, Stiles almost tells Derek.

The sensation of a hand sliding down his shoulder catches Derek so off-guard he actually twists in a futile search for its source. No one’s there of course, his loft having emptied out twenty minutes ago, and he squeezes his eyes shut as the now-familiar sensation of phantom fingers continue to shiver over his skin. They trail down his nape, an attempt at a soothing motion that only works to rile him further.

“Are you really so content with destroying every remnant of our family?”

He grits his teeth against the memory of Peter’s words, against the feeling of long fingers tracing down his spine.

“It was Scott’s call, and I stand by it.”

“Scott is an idealistic child. And you’re letting him hand away our territory, territory it took generations to establish, for convenience?”

“What matters is that the territory is protected. Be it by us or Scott, or Satomi’s pack.”

“It’s ours to protect.”

“There aren’t enough of us left to guard it all.”

“And whose fault is that, Derek?”

Derek’s fist slams into the cement wall and comes away bleeding heavily.

He hasn’t responded to his Dreamer’s advances but they, uncharacteristically, don’t retreat. Instead a pair of lips joins the fingers, pressing a lingering kiss into the taut tendons of his neck.

He lifts his fist again, falters.

The pack had cleared out pretty fast, standing around Derek in a show of solidarity until Peter had stalked out, before scattering quickly themselves.  Erica had looked like she’d wanted to stay, but Boyd had just offered Derek a silent nod before taking her elbow and leading her away. Isaac had sensed the emotions roiling under Derek’s calm surface and had bolted for the door before anyone, while Scott had caught Derek’s eyes and nodded something that might have been thanks, or might have been an apology, before following him. Stiles had actually paused beside Derek, lifting a hand like he’d wanted to pat him on the shoulder, before averting his eyes and continuing on out without a word.

And Derek hadn’t found the voice to ask any of them to stay.

Derek still hasn’t responded to the Dreamer, but maybe he’s projecting something unconsciously because they’re still here, a long arm looping around Derek’s waist now, the heat of a lithe body pressing in behind him as the kisses continue, soft and unhurried, down the lines of his nape to his shoulder.

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[ᵖᵒᵒʳ ᵍᶦʳᶫ - @spacehippiecult]

Green looks at her. She’s trying so hard, desperate to apologize, to comfort him in his moment of a highly-uncalled for meltdown. His exhaustion, his self-loathing, buried so deep it never saw the light of day. It was as if he had unearthed it, a sphere of raw hate && poison, hurting everything that touched it - including the girl he’d come to call a friend.

The weight of her against him is soft in it’s touch, infinite in the weight it took from his shoulders. Green’s fingers tremble gently, as he leans in to pull her in for an actual hug.

Precious, precious girl. Worth her weight in stars.

“Thank you Maria. Thank you.


Theory Time: The Enigma of The Metro Girls

As usual, the majority of the theory is below the cut. (Warning: This might be my longest one yet, as it’s covering almost everything I’ve researched about Nataka and Imika. I should write a book.)

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Years of yoyo dieting, over exercising and self loathing was not only exhausting but didn’t get me very far either. However, body positivity has changed my life and I am so excited to see how my self love grows from here!!

anonymous asked:

do you have any tips for avoiding ed relapse? you're amazing in every aspect btw.

Ed trigger warning, I can’t tag on my phone sorry!!
I always think about what it is im giving up. My relationship with my parents, with my friends, my art. People don’t always understand that it’s not just the weight you lose. The world shrinks and your brain is too tired, the creative outlets shut off and any source of joy shuts off and life becomes an exhausting mess of self loathing and guilt. People don’t love you for the size of your thighs, it took me too long to understand that.

It Must Be Done

Karolina’s Playlist (1k Followers Celebration Challenge)

Prompt: Message Man by Twenty One Pilots (I strongly suggest you listen to the song before reading)

Summary: Dean decided to make one last pit stop before taking matters into his own hands. 

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1759

A/N: This is set sometime in the season 10 finale. I just want to say that this was such a fun challenge! I hope you guys enjoy. 

Over and over again, his solid fist pounded into one of the few people he had left in his life. He could feel the shattering bones underneath the swelling flesh. Relentlessly he smashed his knuckles onto his target, not fazed by the now oozing blood that smeared onto them.

With one last grunt he finally ended his annihilation. There was no whimper or whine from the human punching bag that laid on the floor. Their head logged side to side, doozy from the constant beating. He scowled down to his friend, only to be welcomed with piercing, void, lucid blue eyes.

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When Dean first returns to the bunker he can’t look Castiel in the eye.

He can feel Cas trying to catch his gaze where they stand awkwardly in the control room, a tentative “Dean?” rumbling from his lips.  Dean can’t manage more than a muttered “hey” to his feet in reply.  It’s crazy, but part of him fears that Castiel’s face will be bloodied and swollen just as he left it; just as it did when he looked in the mirror.  He doesn’t think he could bear to see that again.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asks, clearly prodding for more of an acknowledgement.  

“Oh, you know.  Usual cocktail of exhaustion and self-loathing.  A little less blood-thirsty though, so that’s something.” He tries to punctuate his words with a chuckle to lighten the impact but knows he’s failed when Castiel’s fingers make contact with his arm.  Cas touches him like he’s an abused animal, and Dean can’t stand it.

“Dean.  It’s okay.”

“The hell it is.”

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ok just gonna break down the sneak peek so i can deal with my emotions better

-arthur on the run from killian mmhm i know that’s right

-when arthur trips and killian just slowly walks over that log……….chills

-killian’s sass is holy and should be revered 

-literally even when he’s about to die he doesn’t have time for that shit

-when he’s actually “dead” he’s going to be unstoppable

-hades will be like “bet now you realize where being a hero gets you in life…………..or should i say in death hahahahahahahha” 

-killian will just roll his eyes and deadpan, “is this why it’s called hell. because i have to sit here and listen to your bad attempts at humor for all of eternity”



-i’m fine


-you can see the heaviness in his shoulders; how bad he feels about what he said; how many nights he lay awake kicking himself for it 

-and her self-loathing and her exhaustion and she’s only this way out of love and can’t bear to tell him so he doesn’t blame himself



-suck it 

-i’m dead 

when someone comments on something i haven’t been insecure about for years i start to self loathe all over again and its exhausting because i thought i already grew from it