#and now im basically exhausted mentally and physically

[mageofminge]

the day after i posted that wretched weezer fic i experience one of the worst days in my life.

perhaps this is a sign from god.

[mainfaggot]

tw eating disorder talk, pt.2 to the last post in the tags (once again, no mention of numbers that could be triggering, just a heartfelt rant bc I've been so afraid of talking about these things on here, but i really just need to get everything out bc . I feel crazy)

[youmearepeaches]

my total admiration for nurses and caretakers. I’ve spent a couple of days taking care of my grandma because my aunt and mom are on holidays and I ended up crying out of frustration

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Lucifer Lactation Kink Headcanons

THIS WAS supposed to be part of a part 2 to the Lucifer Niche Kinks post. But not only did it get wayyyy too long; but I realized that I probably should add an educational section because people know nothing about breastfeeding. SO. I broke it off into its own thing.

Contents/WARNINGS: AFAB reader but gender neutral pronouns are used; all the kinky shit obviously; DISCUSSION OF PREGNANCY, BREASTFEEDING, AND CHILDREARING WEE WOO; honestly stay away from this one if you aint into having babies or that kind of talk; discussion of Lilith and Lucifer's past relationship; Im gonna drag Lucifer to therapy by his ankles (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Educational Section ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Im just going to throw all this breastfeeding info here in a big info dump so I can actually get into the headcanons and yall can know what Im talking about.

The first couple days after birth are critical for establishing proper milk production. Basically, even if the baby is perfect and drinks your milk (which is rare but thats not what we are talking about), you NEED to make sure your breasts are completely emptied of milk and stimulate them even past that.

This is super important because its what tells your body 'hey, make more milk for babay'

Im just gonna straight up say it: breast pumps fucking suck. Everyone complains about how uncomfortable they are, if they arent straight up painful; they are super inefficient at getting all the milk out of your breasts so they can easily leave you engorged or mess up your milk production; and some women cant even use them because they dont fit their boob shape properly or they cant relax enough when using them.

What do I mean when I say the lady cant relax enough? You have to be completely relaxed for the milk to come out. This is the biggest reason women have trouble breastfeeding. Well, that and the completely empty breasts thing messing up their milk production.

So what is the alternative? Hand expressing! Basically human milking; only not worded so bluntly/terribly. This is much better for milk production because it allows you to actually get all the milk out.

The problem is, its alot more work and time consuming then a pump. Not to mention you have to be taught the proper way to hand express. So if you dont have any of these resources, your pumping.

To make it even worse, alot of women cant relax enough when they try to hand express themselves, so they HAVE to have another person do it (most husbands are COWARDS and aren't willing to do it so, oops back to pump I guess). Or they are the opposite and have to do it themselves.

Fun fact: before pumps, women had to go to their fricken DOCTORS to have themselves milked because their own husbands wouldn't do it. Cause they COWARDS.

ANYWAY. Now that you got a background in how breastfeeding works, remember; breastfeeding is hard work actually and thank god for formula because so many babies would die without it.

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Actual Headcanons ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Its all so natural. Lucifer loves and adores every single change happening to your body during pregnancy. The stretch marks, the weight, watching his child grow inside you. Its all just... *mwuah* So perfect to him.

Lucifer gets so dreadfully giddy when your breasts begin to swell and grow heavy late into your pregnancy. He knows it means your so close to actually being a mommy.

Honestly the best husband you could possibly have. As soon as your baby is born, Lucifer is right there to help you with anything you could possibly need. Anything.

He knows how exhausted mentally and physically you are; so Lucifer offers to hand express your milk for you after feedings. Your body just went through so much, so just let him handle that!

This is when you first notice just how... bothered he gets. Lucifer almost seems to go into a trance. His half-lidded eyes glaze over while he pants through his open mouth.

He tries so hard to keep himself under control; but he cant help but let out tiny gasps, moans, or whimpers when he feels the life giving liquid seep between his fingers.

You cannot even begin to say how thankful you are for your husband's experience however. Its a load off your shoulders. Lucifer's hands and fingers skillfully work to encourage as much milk out of your breasts as he possibly can.

However, as soon as he is done, Lucifer has to quickly excuse himself; nearly running out the door hoping you didn't notice how fucking hard he is. Or that if you did, that he didn't gross you out at the very least.

After a couple days, once your home, rested up, and Lucifer has gotten your milk production expertly established; he will try to show you how to hand express yourself. But you quickly shut that down and tell Lucifer that you would prefer if he kept doing it for you.

Lucifer is a flustered mess at the proposition but cant really argue against it. Hand expression is much easier when another person does it, not to mention exponentially faster. Its also great bonding time for the two of you. Even if Lucifer enjoys the activity a little too much...

However, neither of you have the courage to address just how much he likes it.

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Lucifer was clingy and protective during your pregnancy. But now its amped up significantly. Since the baby was born, Lucifer has been attached to you at the hip; permanently at your beck and call. Always ready to help you in anyway you might need.

Lilith was much more... independent, to put it nicely. Their marriage was already on the rocks when Charlie was born. So Lilith was determined to do everything herself and often shooed Lucifer away when he tried to help.

The fact that your not only letting Lucifer help you with your child, but actively including him in everything? Lucifer didn't think it was possible to love you more then he did. He is not going to miss a second of the child's life you have blessed him with, and so graciously included him in.

But this quickly proves to be a double edged sword. Not only does Lucifer get to dote on you and your child, but Lucifer also gets a front row seat to you and your... maternal body. And God does it do things to him.

People talk about a 'pregnancy glow,' and yeah, you were gorgeous then. But if that was glowing, you are completely radiant now. Lucifer always feels in awe of you and your post-birth body. He loves tracing your stretch marks, with his eyes, fingers, and tongue.

He also loves the extra 'baby weight' you've kept. Its literally more of you to love. You've gotten embarrassed several times because Lucifer will grab at your thighs and lovehandles while telling you how "fucking hard" you make him.

Oddly enough, you haven't heard him comment on the changes in your breasts. Not once.

Thats because Lucifer feels so guilty. He feels so guilty every time he sees how full and swollen your gorgeous breasts are. He feels guilty when he sees them leaking after feedings. The milk soaking through the front of your bra and exposing your hardened nipples.

Lucifer feels guilty about how hard he gets. Every single time. His cock already twitching in his pants just from watching you. Lucifer always ends up having to excuse himself so he can rush off and jack himself off as quickly as possible.

He is so fucking embarrassed by it too. This is parenthood; having kids; having a family. Its all so natural. Especially breastfeeding.

So why is his body perverting it so much?? Lucifer already bred you; got you pregnant. Why is his body demanding even more now that you've had his child??

God, he can't think of any other time he has had to masturbate this much.

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It takes a couple months. Months of constantly vacillating between states of sexual torture and marital bliss for Lucifer. It takes a couple months before you decided to finally test the waters; testing how turned on your husband is really getting.

"Th-there. I-I think that's all of it..." Lucifer stuttered out absentmindedly. Although Lucifer said he had gotten all your milk out, his hands remained firmly grasping your breasts. You couldn't help but look at him with a quizzical tilt to your head. This was new.

Lucifer was always quick to excuse himself; practically running out the door. He was always so fast at fleeing, that he never saw how much you smirked and laughed at him. Its not like his hard on was subtle. Even if he wasn't literally moaning in your face.

This was new. Lucifer didn't run away this time. It was as if he was completely frozen while he straddled your lap in your shared bed. The only real movement from him was the rise and fall of his shoulders from how hard he was breathing.

Lucifer only finally pulls his hands away when you force him to; so you can gently set the bottles you had used to collect your milk onto the nightstand. When you turn back to look at your husband, he is in a complete trance.

Lucifer's head is hanging slightly in shame even as his eyes remain glued to your chest. Rough, but even huffs are steadily leaving his mouth; as if he lost control of his breathing and is trying to get it back. His hands are practically white knuckling at his own thighs; your a little worried in the back of your mind that his claws might rips through his pantleg.

"Lucifer?" Your gentle voice breaks Lucifer out of his daze. His half lidded eyes pull away from your hard, wet nipples to meet your eyes. "I don't think you actually got it all, Sweetie. Why don't you try using your mouth?"

Lucifer's eyes blow wide at the mere suggestion; his pupils dilating like a predator. You swear you hear him whimper. His whole body starts trembling as his eyes dart between your heated gaze and your leaking breast. Silently asking if it was really okay.

You simply smile at him, your hands softly trailing up his thigh and giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. Lucifer licks his lips in a mixture of nervousness and barely restrained lust as he brings shaky hands up to grip at your chest.

Then its as if something in Lucifer snaps; suddenly he is diving right in and latching himself onto you.

It happens so fast. Lucifer's whining, moaning mouth sucking and licking at you furiously. Trying to get every last sweet drop out of you that he can. Every drop of your milk that enters his mouth is like a shockwave of pure electricity up Lucifer's spine.

Even in his almost rabid state, Lucifer remains ever mindful of his teeth. You can't help but whimper every time you feel them graze your hard nipples.

All this while Lucifer's hips are rutting against you in a blind frenzy. You aren't even sure Lucifer is aware he is doing it; that he is practically trying to fuck your thigh into submission. Or if he is so pent up and focused on your tits, that his hips are now acting with a mind of their own.

Lucifer releases your breast from his mouth with a wet -pop- as he squeezes his eyes shut and cries out obscenely. You can feel how hard he cums; completely soaking through the front of his pants and dampening your own.

Lucifer collapses into you; completely limp. For a moment, you thought he might have passed out. But then you hear him humming happily while he nuzzles deeper in-between your breasts.

You gently hold him closer, one of your hands carding through his soft hair as Lucifer takes a moment to recover. You swear you hear him mindlessly babbling praises into your chest. Praises of how much of a "good mommy" you are.

Lucifer drags himself up to look at you with hazy, lovedrunk eyes; breathing heavily and wearing that dorky grin you love so much. Some of your milk had escaped his frenzy, dripping down his chin and smearing along his jaw.

"Do you, uh... Need me to do your other breast too...?"

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AN: If nothing else; I hope this teaches you something about the trials of breastfeeding. Women need more education on what happens to their bodies before, during, and after childbirth.

Don't be that reddit guy who thinks girls make milk whenever they are horny.

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Unfortunately, the OG poster deactivated. But you can find a archive of another Lucifer with a lactation kink post >>HERE<<

[angels-fantasy]

Girl let me just say your fics are superb and thanks for the quirkless child one I requested with Bakugou! I promise I’ll leave you be for a bit in a second, but… post final war; everyone who has came out alive clearly is suffering from injuries, health issues, and trauma (both physical trauma and mental trauma) no? So how about a Bakugou x Reader with a reader who was essentially Bubbly, Firery and Energetic, to after the war who is exhausted, is often having nightmares over Bakugou cause well he nearly died, sleep deprived and basically depressed because I can guarantee nobody should be sane after a war, especially not children like our lovely highschoolers. Please make it angst to comfort, because seeing how Bakugou also has developed I’m sure as sad as he would be he would also be understanding and try to be comforting (despite his awkwardness). I’d appreciate if you could get this done to be as close as possible (and maybe just a little long than the one I requested last time- no pressure) BUT if anything you find in my request may be too triggering or something feel free to make it less triggering and change it, I just ask if you can keep the same vibe and theme with the reader who changed drastically after the wars and is getting comforted by Bakugou, Angst to comfort (duh), thank you so much, and I hope I’m not troubling you too much! — An anon who enjoys suffering, angst, and comfort ((SAC) Anon); (get it? Suffering, Angst, Comfort, SAC, wait that has a good ring to it, damn I have a new alias, I’ll shut up now)

I'm Okay, As Long as He's Here (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Details/Warnings: reader has a panic attack and nightmares!! pls be weary of this. angst to fluff, well, my attempt at angst lol

Word Count: 1k

thank you for your request and the support :D it means a lot to me 🩷 btw don't ever feel like you're bothering me or like you need to leave me alone! i like talking to everyone :) also this is a good little plot, but im not the best at writing angst but this is helping me improve i think, so please tell me how i did! i really hope you like it SAC anon hahah

Before the war, you were a different person. Looking at you now, no one would ever guess you were once a bubbly, out going person. But Katsuki knew you were, and sometimes, he missed the old you.

It was hard to watch you wake up crying in the middle of the night from your horrible nightmares of the war. Some being about his near death experience, and others being about him dying in other ways.

Some nights, you didn't sleep at all, and it was really showing.

"Hey, keep your head up. I don't want you to fall asleep." Katsuki said. It was already months after the war, so you were all back at school, but you were one of the few students that was struggling the most.

He definitely has his struggles too, but he knew he had to be there for you, because yours were much worse.

You opened your eyes wider, trying your best to stay awake. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep last night."

"You havin' nightmares again?"

You nodded, he sighed.

"Come sleep in my dorm tonight. You sleep better with me and you know it."

You agreed and continued trying your best to stay awake for the rest of the day. Occasionally, Katsuki would have to wake you up or remind you to stay awake. The lack of sleep made it hard to focus, especially in Hero Training. Thankfully, Mr. Aizawa and the rest of the teachers were understanding of the students who were struggling.

Once school was over it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You knew you had homework to do, but right now you'd rather sleep. Or at least attempt to. Since you were going to be with Katsuki tonight, you were probably only going to have one nightmare. Plus, he'd be there to comfort you.

Following your boyfriend to his dorm room, you immediately changed into some of your clothes that he had there for you, and then laid down on his bed.

For a while, you just silently watched him as he sat at his desk and did his homework, something you should also be doing.

"What're you starin' at?"

You smiled, but not as brightly as before, "I'm just admiring you."

He huffed, "Good, I'm awesome."

Rolling your eyes, you said, "And there he is."

He laughed and continued doing his homework. You just continued watching him, because it was something that comforted you. It was a reminder that he was okay and alive.

Knowing he was safe right in front of you, you fell asleep.

...

You didn't know what time it was, but it must've been late since the room you were in was dark.

You clutched your chest as you sat up in bed and breathed heavily, feeling tears prick your eyes.

Of course, you had another nightmare again. This one in particular was about Katsuki, and he was in the arms of Shigaraki. You saw the villain use his Decay quirk on him, and your boyfriend began to crumble away but you were paralyzed in your dream. There was nothing you could do.

The nightmare felt so real and so scary, like they usually do. You felt so helpless and scared. The evil that emitted from Shigaraki and All For One was something you'd always remember.

You subconsciously began to rock yourself back and forth and made self soothing noises as you continued to have a panic attack. They never got easier, or less scary as time went on. It always felt like you were going to die.

Your panic must've woke Katsuki up, because you suddenly heard his voice calling out to you.

"Hey, hey! Breathe baby, you gotta breathe." He said.

You shook your head, "I-I can't! It hurts. I'm scared, I'm gonna die!"

He carefully grabbed your hands and held them in his. He took one of them and brought it to his chest near his heart so you could feel it beat.

"What is my heart doing right now?" He asked. This was a method he used to ground you during these situations, especially because he knew how you felt about him and his safety.

You looked at his chest, "Beating. Your heart is beating."

"Right. Now what do you feel here?" He asked, now placing a hand on the blanket that was on top of you guys.

"The blanket."

"What does it feel like?"

"It's soft and fluffy."

As he continued distracting you from your panic, you eventually calmed down. You were still crying a bit, but he held you in his arms as you let it out.

"He killed you Katsuki. I was so scared, and I couldn't do anything!" You cried into his chest.

He rubbed your back, "You know that shit isn't real, no matter how real it feels. I'm right here living and breathing. I'm safe, okay?"

You nodded and sniffed, "Okay." You placed a hand on his chest over his heart and felt it beat, the steady rhythm of it comforting you.

Katsuki grabbed that hand and kissed the palm of it, "Love you. I'll be here all night, 'kay?"

"I love you too. Thank you."

"It's no problem."

The next morning, you felt more rested than usual. It must've been because you only had one nightmare, which was an improvement.

You noticed you woke up before your boyfriend, so you just let him sleep a little longer while you got on with your morning routine. You had a lot of your own things in his room, including an extra toothbrush which you were thankful for.

When he eventually woke up, he walked over to you and hugged you tightly.

"You feelin' okay?" He asked.

You nodded as best as you could in his tight grip, "Mhm."

"Be honest."

"I am! I feel a lot better than last night." You insisted as you pulled away slightly, still keeping your arms around him.

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, "Mkay. Wanna sleep with me again tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll bring more clothes later."

He smiled, "'Kay. Let's go to class." He said and threw an arm over your shoulder, making you smile up at him.

Yeah, you knew things would be okay as long as he was around.

authors note

i hope you liked it! i'm sorry it was kinda short, i've been in a little writing stump but im trying to get out of it!

love ya 🩷

tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot

[junosmindpalace]

Im in love with your senku x reader writings

They are absolutely adorable🥺

Ive been sick for a whole week now and i still feel terrible

It made me wonder how Senku would act with reader being sick and bedridden?

And Senku is just near her side, watching over her?🥺

Maybe y/n collapses during all the hard work in the stone world, and turns out having a strong fever?

Watching her fall asleep, keeping her tucked in, handing her water etc

I think they would be the absolute cutest 🥺🥺

thank you so much for your request and patience! i hope you were able to recover quickly (me and my horrid timing…)!

--! warnings: sickness, anxiety(?)

--> wc: 1k

The shift from living in an advanced civilization to the stone age was massive and required a lot of adjusting. 

You were fortunate enough to exist in a time where everything you could ever want and need was easily accessible, from all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips to all sorts of items at your disposal. All your basic necessities could be easily met with a short walk to the supermarket. 

So when all of that turned upside down, it was a challenge to keep up.

The petrification took a large toll on you when you awoke from your lengthy slumber. You were powerless to save the people you loved and who brought you comfort. Most of your time was spent attempting to accommodate your new living circumstances, physically and mentally. 

Anxiety and panic was a constant in the back of your mind with so much unknown about the potential attack on mankind, and you were unable to soothe yourself with the hobbies you once enjoyed. Your physical health also suffered. Your diet had changed drastically, you were forced to take on a lot of labor in order to stay alive. 

But throughout it all, Senku made adjusting easier by helping you learn everything you needed to know to help you survive in your new environment. The two of you worked together to hunt, build shelter and tools and fashion clothing. Senku’s determination and upbeatness despite such a traumatic life altering event helped keep you sane. You didn’t need to strain yourself as much when Taiju and Yuzuriha later joined the group either, especially with Taiju’s endless stamina. 

When you and Senku split from your friends in order to establish alliances with other potential survivors, you came along a small village that also helped in terms of labor. You befriended and recruited many strong and resourceful people to help the both of you with your mission. Still, you were doing a lot. Your body didn’t have the time to gradually adjust to your new lifestyle. 

For a while, you were able to push through. For the sake of your survival, work took priority. But eventually, sometime after Ruri was cured, you couldn’t keep hitting ignore on your exhaustion, and eventually you felt the consequences of this action catch up to you.

It seemed that there was always something to do in Ishigami Village, which was unsurprising considering your circumstances. It was a particularly harsh sunny day, the sun beating down at the villagers who tried, futilely, to rid themselves of the discomfort the sun’s glare brought them.

“Particularly hot out today, huh, Senku?” Gen panted out from beside his scientist friend, the two both sharing uncomfortable looks on their faces. 

“It hasn’t been this hot in a while! We should make sure the children and elderly are alright.” Kohaku commented upon overhearing, putting a hand over her eyes to shield the sun’s rays and survey the villagers. Senku mimicked her not far away. 

“We won’t get much work done under these conditions. We should probably-” Senku had started, but a thud interrupted his train of thought. Everyone turned toward the sound to find you had collapsed and lied unconscious on the ground. 

Immediately your friends were at your side, the strongest villagers, Kohaku and Magma, carrying you into one of the huts in the village. After Senku assessed you, he realized to his horror that you had come down with a strong fever. In the modern world, a cold was nothing to stress over, especially at your age. But with the change in…everything, it was a lot more concerning, especially since Ruri had almost died of pneumonia.

Luckily, the Kingdom of Science’s sulfa drug was successful, but the downside was that it needed time to create again. In the meantime, your friends did everything they could to accommodate your sickness, Senku being at the forefront of it all.

Kohaku delivered spring water like she did in order to help with Ruri’s sickness, and Chrome, along with Suika and other villagers, would collect various supplies Senku advised him of to help with your recovery- food, materials for medical tools and the like. Senku stayed by your side throughout it all, making sure to assess you regularly and work to get the panacea done as soon as possible.

It was uncomfortable enough being sick in the modern world, but with the amount of pain you were in from your fever along with not being able to enjoy your old comforts, the fever took a higher toll on you than expected.

Senku stayed by your side to soothe you the best ways he knew how. He used his knowledge of science to create whatever forms of entertainment he could, and having another person from your time was also a comfort. He did his best to make you laugh and help keep you out of your panicked mindset.

At the peak of your illness, and when your anxiety was at its highest, Senku stayed by your side and watched over you until you fell asleep, sometimes lingering in the house or setting up his own sleeping bag beside. He convinced himself it was for your peace of mind, but deep down, being near you and able to quickly respond to anything alarming also helped put his heart and mind at ease.

“You’ll be okay, Y/N. You’ll recover from this, I’m ten billion percent certain of it. Get your rest.” He’d tell you with all the confidence in the world, and it was hard not to believe him when his words were so firm and full of certainty. 

Senku would lean over and tuck you in, insisting that it was important that you kept yourself warm. He helped you drink water when you were too weak to do so yourself, and encouraged you to sleep a lot in between meals.  

Your sickness put you out of commission for work for a while before the medicine was finished, and even after taking the medicine, your body still needed to adjust after having been used to more modern ones. 

Eventually your fever symptoms slowly started to lessen, and through the hot spring water, food and other things, along with Senku’s assessments of your condition, you were back on your feet feeling reborn. Senku made sure to continue monitoring you from time to time, and told you to come to him if you were ever feeling down again, both physically and mentally (because as much as you wanted to avoid worrying him, his attentive eye and big heart always manage to see through you).

[brotherwtf]

Can you please write about Clegan has parents in omegaverse?

yes I can anon (rubbing my hands together)

again, much like my previous headcanons, I think Gale would be very reluctant about having kids at first, he knows it's a lot of responsibility and a SHIT TON of physical energy that goes into having a child, but I think eventually he comes around to it and agrees to having kids with John

John of course is crazy about having kids with Gale, he's literally counting down the hours until their agreed time to have sex because he's so damn excited, can't wait to become a father, can't wait to become a father with Gale too

if you thought John worshipped the ground Gale walked on before he basically thinks Gale is God when he's pregnant, literally won't let Gale do anything on his own because he knows how much being pregnant sucks, pampers Gale with his favorite foods and with warm baths and so so many kisses all over, body worship going absolutely crazy rn

Gale is hella emotional the entire time, cries every morning because he's so excited for their baby but also so so scared about disappointing John or their child, gets snappier as the day goes on just because he's mentally and physically exhausted from all that this has to entail

thinking the pregnancy cravings are going WILD, Gale asking for things he's literally shown no interest in, literally cries whenever John questions what he wants to eat and of course John feels so bad whenever he can't fulfill one of Gale's wishes, and even when he offers alternatives, shushes him and tells him it's going to be okay even when Gales having a slight breakdown over John not being able to get him whatever weird food combination his brain conjures up

they get through it, they always get through it, and Gale has twins when the time comes, two beautiful girls, one with Gale's blond locks and one with John's brown curls, basically the two most beautiful girls you've ever seen

thinking that they're both alphas and now Gale has three alphas running around his house that he has to try and wrangle, but he's happy every single day with his family, literally can't wait for what the next day brings for them :)

IM SOFT AGAIN HELLOO

[clownmoontoon]

RAAAAHHH HELLO ITS BEEN A MINUTE!!! \OUO/

YOUR FAVORITE CLOWN IS BACK IN BUSINESS ive been quiet a while, a LOTS been going on in my personal life that brought my social medias to a complete (and unfortunate ToT) standstill til now!

i rlly wanna talk about it, its been honestly life changing and for safety i need to add some warnings:

cw for abuse both physical and emotional, and suicidal thoughts/ideation (dw im ok and not suicidal! i used to be and i finally have real context as to why)

ANYWAYS LETS TALK ABOUT IT

i got the opportunity to see a therapist for free for the first time since i was a kid and it was IMMENSELY eye opening.

SOME CONTEXT: ive lived with just my mother since i was a teenager as i tried to "make it" as an artist. ive had my ups and downs w this career goal and have been heavy in the midst of a very big Down period. entirely brought on by how sick i was at the start of the year to june (infected lymph nodes, pneumonia, 2 pounds of tumors in my uterus that required the removal of the organ entirely etc, i may have a weak immune system im realizing sdlkjd) which resulted in me having very little energy to create and/or post content. by july i needed to basically start over. which i was excited to do! i WANTED to get back to work and i was even excited for art fight! ;u;

aaaand in july is when my mom thought would be a good time to threaten to kick me out unless i found money to give her or got a "real" job. this came as an extreme and horrifying shock as i had just asked her the month before to "believe in me just a little longer" as i finally felt i realized what id been doing wrong all these years before and felt strongly i could succeed before the end of the year, she not only emphatically agreed but even said i didnt need such a time limit and she definitely didnt mind supporting me til i reached my dream lol i couldnt even do anything until july bc i was busy recovering from major surgery, coming home with tape on my stomach to heal the incision that hadnt fully closed yet

ive wanted to see a therapist for ages bc im Full O' Trauma and i knew it would help. The way this worked was basically like getting a free trial, i got six days of therapy (to be spread out as far as i liked) thru zoom.

i used the visits more for getting advice on how to reach my goals thru mental blocks and exhaustion bc ultimately i felt like 6 days wasnt enough time to get into trauma stuff and i really just wanted to get my career off the ground again, hopefully permanently.

i had vented a tiny bit about my mom and by the final visit w my therapist i decided to forgo the "how to better reach my goals" questions and ask if she had advice on how to handle someone like my mother, who i had to live with and rely on and who would often say something cruel whenever the mood struck. as i told her about my situation she stops me and asks

"do you hear yourself? bc i hear you"

and im suddenly so scared shes going to tell me the same, "get a real job" "stop acting so selfish" etc

instead she says, "this is abuse, youre literally describing an abusive relationship"

i was in complete shock

i even asked her how could i be the one being abused when i was the one using the resources and she compared it to a person getting married to someone rich and that rich person treating them like theyre worthless for not also making money.

it shook me to my core especially bc my mom loved calling me an abuser and comparing me to her abusive ex husbands (one of which used to abuse her physically, punch her/beat her etc) and saying im just like them

for the record ive never laid a hand on her, she would say these things whenever the mood struck, often out of nowhere

once bc i told her i couldnt read her mind and didnt know what she wanted lol wild

ANYWAY after this conversation i started looking back on my life and realizing why ive always felt so worthless, why i thought until my early 20's that suicide would be the best option for everyone. i was so exhausted from chasing this dream and feeling like such a worthless burden, my mother would get so angry with me for just existing and i felt like she would be so much happier if i were out of the picture, my sisters (both a decade older and living w their own families) calling me a leech and selfish for "using" our mother etc

any time i would stand up for myself, kindly and meekly as i could my mother would tell me how she wanted to punch my mouth, slap my face etc for years i thought she'd eventually fly into such a rage one day that she'd kill me and... i honestly didnt really mind the thought once while in high school my mom picked me up for lunch and offered to pay for a prom dress. i told her that it was ok, i knew she was struggling w money rn and i didnt really wanna go to prom anyway she flew into such a rage she pulled over on the highway just to pull my hair and beat me, and then dropped me back at school to finish my day lol

realizing that all of that IS NOT OK OR A NORMAL WAY TO FEEL OR BE TREATED AND I DEFINITELY DIDNT DESERVE ANY OF THAT was extremely eye opening

i told my best friends what my therapist had said and they were both like YEAH... DID YOU NOT KNOW YOU HAD AN ABUSIVE MOTHER??

apparently it was very obvious ^^; my friends were shocked to find that i thought everything was my fault, my therapist even used the term "gaslighting narcissist" to describe her which was WILDLY VALIDATING for me lmao

sitting w all these thoughts whirling around my head my mom texts me suddenly and tells me to ask my sisters for money (13 hundred dollars lol) bc she needs it for "bills"

i didnt want to do that at all she told me to "use my big words" to convince them and not to say it was her idea, but instead to act like i was asking bc i wanted to

it felt gross and made my skin crawl and honestly didnt even make sense bc WHY would i need that money so i asked but let my sisters know it was my mom asking and said she prob felt embarrassed to ask, while telling my mom that i asked in the way she wanted

my oldest sister makes good money and has helped our mom w money in the past. she texted me back asking why our mom needed money and why 1300 and i told her honestly i didnt know, i asked my mom what to say and she said to tell her she had an itemized list but she left it at work and couldnt remember what was on it lol

my sister told me to tell our mom that she couldnt help rn, so i did and my mom encouraged me to push harder to my other sister

suddenly the sister i had been talking to texts me and says that our mom left her a voicemail saying she doesnt know WHY i would ask for money, must be bc she threatened to kick me out bc i never help her with money :,( which was WILD bc any time i had money my mom would get most if not all of it, i havent been able to save money since ... ever tbqh, even when i tried my mom would successfully guilt every dollar from me letting me know i didnt deserve to save a penny after all shes done for me aaAA

ANYWAY i was so angry and hurt that my mom would just throw me under the bus i told my sister i had proof i wasnt lying (bc she was already inclined to believe our mother since they both considered me a leech to start with) and sent her screenshots of my texts

she was shocked and hurt too i decided to tell her about my therapy and how my therapist had called our mom an abuser and she answered that she understands more than ill ever know... which is very sad hjghfgf

we havent really talked more since and i deleted my texts to the other sister, more likely than not my mom sent her a similar voicemail

im very tired

i want to get out of here, im finally seeing this relationship for what its been for years and years, even back to when i was a little kid! i didnt know about suicide but id dream of being an animal in the wild bc i felt like if i were just out of the picture everyone at home would be less angry

its something that enrages me now tbqh ive tried all my life to be as little of a burden as possible and now im ready to be a problem LMAO :o)

the long and short of it is that i will be posting art sales and opening my patreon FINALLY to try and save up funds to get out of here ive also gotten a part time job on weekends for a little cushion tho some of that money will inevitably go to my mother, unfortunately

she doesnt know about the money i make online :o)

my family has constantly called me selfish, entitled and spoiled for just asking for common decency and to be treated like a person, theyve dehumanized me to the point that my greatest coping mechanism was creating a creature sona that isnt human but a monstrous equivalent lol AND I LOVE THEM IM EMBRACING CREATURE LETS FUCKIN GO

i know this has been long and if youve made it to the end i love u and im so thankful for your support!! ;u;

FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT!! i want to come back full force, i havent stopped drawing at all, just havent had the energy to do much til now

my therapist even pointed out that i probably WOULDVE had at least moderate steady success by now if it werent for my mom's constant abuse

OH ALSO I NOW HAVE FOUR CATS LMAO a stray i had been giving water to and keeping safe from weather things (extreme heat, extreme cold etc) had her kittens here! and my mom gave me the ok to keep them all ;u; (and then ofc rescinded that but thats hardly a surprise now lol) and man, having kids cats sure changes your perspective on what u want and feel like you deserve! I NEED TO DO WELL BC THESE KITTIES DEPEND ON ME AND I LOVE THEM QVQ <3<3

SO YEAH IM BACK BABY IM GETTING THE HELL OUTTA HERE ASAP AND CONCENTRATING ON MY WELL BEING AND MENTAL HEALTH!! 😤🔥

[marsvs-thesun]

SHIT I WOULD WANNA SEE IN A SOW REWRITE: a non exhaustive list in no particular order

(read more for length and generally being critical of SoW)

• give a name to more story relevant weapons. Voltar is cool, but I wanna know what are the names of Ingressus' kickass flame blade, and thalleous' sword, and Achillean's staff! Mostly cause I wanna refer to them more easily for Symbolism(tm)! ALSO an opportunity for Senn&Ria bonding over naming her spear!!

• SPEAKING OF SWORDS give thalleous' sword to Ria. NO HEAR ME OUT; she starts the story with her spear, sendaria burning, killing Tygren ect. When Tygren dies SHE gets the sword instead of Senn, and gives Senn her spear (from her point of view, she's giving back a weapon she trusted to protect herself, she's now protecting him and signaling that she trusts his craftsmanship. Subtextually it signify the rift that forms between them as she gets more into hunting Voltaris down and Senn gets closer to his heritage). She keeps using it throughout the story, culminating in attacking Senn with it when he surrenders in Northwind, which he deflects with the shield song like in canon. Anyways, Senn comes back from Hailstone, rejoins the group and Ria is happy but doesnt trust him the same until the Final Battle(tm). Some random element (doesn't matter what, were doing symbolism here) makes it that she loses/cannot use Thalleous' sword, at which point Senn gives/throws her her spear because PLOT TWIST: THE REAL SOLUTION WAS TO LET GO OF AN ARBITRARY SYMBOL OF STRENGHT AND INSTEAD PUT FAITH IN LOVE, TRUST AND FAMILY ALL ALONG, Pythus gets eviscerated, happy endings all around

• speaking of Ria, you might guess it from my last point but GIVE MY GIRL A CORRUPTION ARC. Gimme women's wrongs! Let me watch her go from 'i wanna be just like Thalleous (the cool ex-soldier with awesome stories)' to 'i wanna be just like Thalleous (the guy who threw a kid off a cliff)' and find herself on the way! I've heard people find her overpowered and honestly,,,, yeah kinda but idk how to fix that (also power scales aren't really real to me). You know what's real? CHARACTER ARCS. Plus free Senn angst and frankly I love that. SUBPOINT: could Herobrine be like,,, a character? You're telling me two major characters made a soul pact with a demon entity from another realm and that never paid off? What is Herobrine even gaining from this I MUST KNOW

• MAKE THALLEOUS A VILLAIN PROTAGONIST 2024 okay ik he kind of already is, and ik im basically Thalleous' number 1 hater, and ik this is my complicated relationship with my own father speaking BUT REGARDLESS. Have him do shady stuff before season 3 and just sliiiightly more often pls. Let him be a bit manipulative! Let him lie a bit more! Let him kill a disarmed opponent or strike someone in the back! Let him even be outwardly prejudiced a bit more openly. I'm not even gonna argue his responsibility in the Great War cause thats no the point but you can't tell me he isn't morally grey. Let that little bastard man shine! Honestly im (more than) a little disturbed by the narrative expecting me to a agree with a guy who preached genocide, after all we've seen him do (once again, the child yeeting wasn't great). Please just have someone tell Thalleous to fuck off. Please.

• ALMRAK SHOULD BE USING CRUTCHES OR A WHEELCHAIR INSTEAD OF A CANE. A CANE IS ACTUALLY MOST OFTEN USED FOR BALANCE ISSUES. THIS IS AN ABSENCE OF LEG ISSUE. That's it that's the point.

• ACTUALLY IM NOT DONE i find Almrak's entire character,,, strange. So the only visibly disabled character in the show is Voltari. Cool! He's the only Voltari portrayed sympathetically (Ingressus does not count, he's the main villain). Less cool! It's heavily implied the reason he's sympathetic is because he's disabled and therefore cannot fight (debatable. Give my man a crossbow). Pretty bad! I'm not physically disabled (diagnosed) myself but I am a Sufferer of some kind of chronic pain and autistic (and the mental Horrors), so idk how relevant my commentary is but there's a bunch of things I don't like here: 1) a disabled character can be optimistic for sure, I love that actually! I dont love how tied those two things are tho. Almrak is the only optimistic Voltari we meet, and while I like the trust he has in his people, his behaviour is oddly reminiscent of those inspiration porn video about how incredible it is that disabled people can be *gasp* happy. This also has the unfortunate implication that the only way a Voltari becomes trustworthy is by becoming/being made harmless? Which is kind of a reach but also tracks a little to much for comfort 2) his death (HE LIVES IN MY HEART, AND SO DOES DELTHEUS) but in canon he dies. And he does so without even really defending himself? Just lays there waiting for the sword? Not only does that seem weird at all (you have a CANE baby BEAT EM UP) it seems out of character for The Only Not Depressed Voltari to just,,, accept death. Mostly the narrative seems allergic to giving him agency. 3) he was created specifically to prove life for the Voltaris was hard (it's somewhere in the supplementals). First, do you think accidents don't happen in other Clans? Thats stupid. And second, ew. This, to me, shows that I'm supposed to look at Almrak, a character living his best life, hopeful for the future, reaping the benefits of a close knit community supporting and respecting him, and feel what, sadness? Pity? That seems incredibly disrespectful. And I say all that as an Almrak lover, he and Deltheus are among my fave. Now, thats a lot of issues but I feel like they could easily be fixed in 3 easy steps: 1) more rep. Just by adding a sprinkle of disability rep to the cast, Almrak stops sticking out like a sore thumb because he's disabled, and starts sticking out because he's a genuinely interesting character with a unique worldview. Wild i know. 2) LET HIM LIVE give him agency in this. Im not saying he should fistfight a Netheran, but let him try to flee or something. 3) now, disability can absolutely be caused by a hostile environment, there's nothing wrong with that. So my solution here wouldn't be to avoid that, but to show some other hardships as well? So it's not Just That? Like, idk, Deltheus remarking how much better the food is in Hailstone because Humans can stockpile and the Voltaris were starving before? Mentions of lacking medicine? Offhand mentions of dead family like they did for Thalleous and Galleous? Idk man, just dont let disability be the Worst Fate in your story. Please.

• Either more of the Necromancer Arc, or none at all. Listen, I love my cat girl necromancy as much as the next guy and Xaria is one of my favorite characters, but, as is, it feels disconnected from the rest of the show and not in a good way. I love the idea of having a more down to earth/everyday pov of the SGW but this Arc doesnt feel different enough to work for me. The characters arent in more danger or difficulties then in any other arc, they arent more developed (actually, kinda less. Why was Lucan in jail? why is Nikaa so anti necromancer? what even was the catalyst of the necromancer movement starting? i guess well never know those important character motivations), they don't really explore more down to earth stuff (human politics! survival in Ardonia during the War! maybe explore WHY people join factions like the Necromancer or the Legion!!) and, because SoW as a story is so focused on individual actions and heros, and the Arc offers neither those nor its own flavor, it ends up feeling pretty redundant, which is a shame. I guess a way to fix this would be to actually lean in to it's separate aspect and maybe focus on the building of a revolt against the Nether (and mayyyybe link that with what the necromancers had going on? maybe? Who am i kidding they'll never give my blorbos the love they deserve. Xan, Xaria, no one gets you like i do)

• I do not know how to fix the K'arthen arc. I do not know if the K'arthen arc can be fixed. To whomever is out there trying to fix the K'arthen arc: you are an endlessly brave individual and i send you power on this journey.

Aight that's it for now :) there's way more (i havent even touched my beloved abbigail!! barely touched on the voltaris!!) but im trying to stick to canon. feel free to agree/disagree/add your own stuff!! i havent read the script in a while too, so i most likely forgot stuff

@minecraftfanatic your turn ;)

[nxathyx]

Hiiiii! Could I request when tecchou’s s/o’s love language is worrying to mucho for him?

I legit forgot an inbox exists sorry for being late <33

Gn!reader x Tecchou Suehiro

Tw: cursing, mentions of reader pulling all nighters, other than that it's just fluff

°he'd definitely be a bit confused why you're so worried

"tecchou, im worried about you, you've been away from home a lot more"

"im the strongest hunting dog you needn't worry🙂

°if you cook for him because you're worried about him not eating enough he appreciates it so fucking much like oh my lord

° would definitely be worried if you stay up late at night and wait for him to get back from work

° would hug you and apologise for being away and worrying you too much

° whenever he's away he texts you every single day or calls you just to tell you he's indeed alright

° would get worried about you worrying about him too much

° 100% tries to reassure you on a daily basis that he is okay, however he'd be lying if he said he didn't appreciate how much you worry about him

° would definitely allow you to bandage his wounds if it makes you feel better

° at first he tried just not telling you how badly he was injured during a mission but after some time he realised it caused you to worry even more so now he's open about it with you, showing you the scars and trying to reassure you that he's fine and has a high durability

° okay if you're also a hunting dog I just imagine everyone looking at you two like "🤨😐🙁😒

"you could've gotten hurt, you idiot. Do you not realise how worried about you I was?"

"im sorry, my love. But I'm here with you now, aren't i? I'm alright, not even a single injury"

"can you two like.. Stfu??"

You and Tecchou have been dating for quite a bit now. He's a hunting dog causing him to be away from home more often than not, which leaves you worried and stressed about his health, both mental and physical.

The clock was about to trike 1 am as you were sat on the couch, drinking a cup of coffee, wearing one of Tecchou's basic white t-shirts as you enjoyed the taste of the bitter liquid running down your throat. You didn't know when Tecchou would come home, and that thought worried you even more as you're leg started bouncing up and down slightly in anxiety as you continued to await your lovers arrival. You looked back at the clock.. 1.34 am. And he's still not back, by this point you finished your cup of coffee as you stood up from the sofa to go and rinse the cup out, deciding you'll just leave it in the sink and wash it in the morning, as you were leaving the kitchen you heard the front door getting opened with the house key, happily and excitedly you walked over to the door, basically throwing yourself at Tecchou as soon as he closed the door behind himself.

"hm.. Why aren't you in bed yet? I think I told you to not wait for me all night long again" he said a bit quietly, he seemed tired as his arms wrapped around your waist, his palms resting on your lower back

"i know, I'm sorry. I just couldn't help but worry about when you'd get back" you replied looking at him before frowning slightly. "you look exhausted.. C'mon let's go to bed" you said as you grabbed Tecchou's fingers, leading him up the stairs into your shared bedroom, taking his hat and cape off of him, placing it on a random chair

Tecchou just smiled a little and complied before taking some clean pijamas and going to the bathroom to change into them, coming back a bit later to see you already sat in your bed, just waiting for him to accompany you. He layed down beside you, placing his head on you stomach, as one of his hands went to your hip, he sighed contently as he felt your hand go into his hair and playing with the brown locks, making him close his eyes.

"you worry me too much.."

"i know.. I'm sorry dear" there was peaceful silence for a bit before he spoke quietly "I love you" he said taking your other hand in his, bringing it closer to his mouth as he placed delicate, Angel like kisses on the back of your hand, fingers, and knuckles.

"i love you too"

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | iii (pt. 1)

too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

masterlist | taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, mentions of homelessness, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, heavy descriptions of addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

here’s part one of two! lots of heavy stuff in this part and some more character background, but we do get to see some romance begin to blossom. im excited to share, but even more excited for you guys to read the next part. thanks for being amazing, i love you guys 🤍

April 22, 2022

The morning was violent, so much so that it managed to pull you from a slumber fit for the dead. As you rolled over on your couch, your journal tumbled from your stomach and landed on the floor with a thump that echoed through the entire room. The large panel windows with rotted sills glistened under the blazing sunlight, too bright and warm for you to withstand. You squeezed your eyes shut again to block out the rays, but instead of blackness, the usual void seemed red with the light beaming directly on your face. You withdrew a long breath, rubbing your face in your hands to pull yourself out of the claws of exhaustion. After a moment, you managed to invigorate yourself enough to sit up straight, but it came with ample consequences.

Your body ached so desperately that it felt like your bones had twisted and morphed into something new, and your throat scratched with dryness every time you tried to swallow. Your head pounded with every breath and only ever worsened as you moved. There was a kink in your neck that you could not massage out if you tried, and your stomach was twisted with upset. You woke up the same every morning, like you were still in active addiction and your body was craving the substance with a fervor. It was a phantom pain that passed not long after you started your day, but while it existed, it was incredibly difficult to get through. No matter how long you had been sober for, you awoke every morning with the incessant urge to fall back into old habits.

That specific morning it seemed so much worse than others, and you feared that if you had even the slightest lapse in willpower, you would end up on the bathroom floor submitting to an entity so sinister that it would ruin your life all over again.

So, instead of taking the risk, you checked your phone to see what time it was. When the white letters splayed ten o’clock, you knew you could rush to the old AA hall they had donated to the druggies when the state funded a new building and catch the morning meeting. If you were lucky enough, you could make it in time to grab one or two of the stale muffins from the day prior and save some money on groceries. You noticed the pen that had once sat atop the journal (that had once sat atop you) had fallen onto the torn cushions of the couch and was now stabbing into your side. With a huff of frustration, you tossed it to the floor, where it struck the old vinyl tile and rocketed under one of the other pieces of furniture.

You stood, feeling woozy from the illness plaguing you and seemingly eating away at your insides. With a vow to ignore it, you trudged to the bathroom to comb your hair and brush your teeth. The intense mint from the toothpaste was aggravating your already sick stomach, and you fought back a gag as you struggled through the basic task. You washed your face, hoping the cold water would distract you, but the sting of the frigid liquid on your tired skin only annoyed you further. In a poor mood, you forced yourself through the rest of your routine and ran to your bedroom. You changed into a pair of jeans that once belonged to your oldest brother, and a sweater that belonged to your youngest brother. To top it off, you threw on a fleece lined plaid jacket to keep out the harsh wind, noticing yet another rip in the already worn out fabric.

You grabbed your pack of cigarettes from the counter on the way out the door, tying your boots in the hallway after deciding that tripping over laces would be the (theoretical) straw that broke the camel's back. You broke out into the bitter air, the smell of city smog filling your lungs and the nip of morning frost biting at your cheeks. You shoved your headphones into your ear, pressing play on a playlist that had been ringing through your living room all night long. With a brief check over your shoulder, you hopped to the other side of the street and began walking down the winding side road in hopes of finding a Hail Mary.

After a seemingly treacherous journey, you trudged up the wooden steps that were nearly rotten all the way through. You clasped your fingers around the large metal handle and pulled the oak door open, the creaks echoing through the barren entryway. You stepped inside, your mind still swimming with relentless thoughts and your cheeks blushed with chill. You slipped your headphones into the pocket of your hoodie and moved further inside, surveying the room before going any further. The old building was once a church, and when it was abandoned, the state took it over and rebranded it for Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Back then, it went hand in hand with the motto, as most that turned vile due to their addictions believed themselves to be devout Christian’s. Some believed it was blasphemous to use such a building for people who had disgraced the name of god, and others thought it to be perfectly fitting. Either way, God did not have a hand in what happened in the building, nor was he worthy of credit for the recovery of the people.

When the government decided AA was worthy of a better building, they still failed to recognize addicts as people deserving of recovery (or help, even), and left the old building for anyone to do as they pleased with. For a little while, it was home to a small family of homeless people, and only once the city grew sick of them did they decide an NA program was worthwhile. State ‘funded’ and utterly disappointing, they held meetings twice a day that were led by a single member of the mental health board (and not even an addictions expert, at that) and were mostly self-guided. As much as the program lacked, you still found it comforting to sort through your issues with fellow addicts who also fucked up their lives beyond repair. That, and it was the only intervention that was consistently accessible, and free.

You hated knowing that your recovery was based off a paycheck, and that bettering yourself as a person was dependent upon affordability, yet you knew this to be reality. Treatment programs were expensive, and the only one you had ever been to had left you with a debt you would never shake off your shoulders. From then, you knew you had to be in charge of your recovery, and that started with improving your willpower to stay sober. You could not afford anything more than self-help journals, and with every backslide, you understood that medical bills were piling higher and higher. Sobriety was the only option, because if not, poverty was the punishment. Unfortunately, poverty was a breeding ground for mental illness (which you already suffered enough of), and mental illness was a slippery slope that lead you straight back to square one.

Complaining about NA would not get you any further ahead, so you often had to swallow your distaste and appreciate it for what it was. At least there was some type of intervention, even if it was lousy. Without it, you would have nothing but yourself, and you had come to realize that was one thing you could not solely rely on, as you were a nothing shy of a trained professional in bad decisions and fucking up.

You noticed the circle of fold out chairs, half filled with zombie-like shapes that only passed as people on a good day. Today, as it seemed, was not a good day. Most of the attendees were forced to be there by parole regulations, and others only came for a warm place to sit for an hour. Some, like yourself, wanted help, but most cared about the free food more. As you approached the group, you made a stop at the table with the coffee canister and expired creamer, pouring yourself two cups to sip away at while you spilled your guts. Thankfully, there were plenty of muffins left, and when nobody was looking, you managed to slip a few in your large pockets (which was the exact reason you wore that specific jacket).

As you took a seat, you surveyed for any familiar faces. There was an older women, frail looking with mousy blonde hair and sad eyes. Her name was Carol, and she was the most frequent attendee of all of the meetings. Even so, you knew her to be a woman who was sober, but nowhere near recovered. She’d been through the twelve step program a hundred times, yet never seemed to harness all that she’d learned. She was tired, sorrowful and a little timid, yet had a fiery side that matched the devil. She often talked about her mistakes like they were small blips, yet did not seem to comprehend that even if they were unavoidable, they had consequences that were detrimental to her and her family. More specifically, it affected her children, in which she mentioned their no-contact order at least once a meeting.

You felt bad for her, but not enough to extend a helping hand. She was a great example of ‘reap what you sow’ and she reminded you too much of your own mother to ignore it. Every time you began to feel some shred of sympathy, you would think of her four kids who suffered at the hands of her own lack of self control. She knew nothing about accountability, and was in so much denial that she was blaming the no contact order on the children who filed it, rather than the woman who caused it. She would never recover unless she understood the implications of her actions, and that she caused all that happened, even if she felt powerless at the time. She could abstain from using drugs until her last breath, yet she would never escape the addict mentality.

The coordinator, Liam, was by the windows organizing his meeting checklist. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you were certain that when he did, a smart comment would be casted in your direction. He was in his mid-thirties, and he wasn’t the worst person in the world to share a piece of your soul with. If anything, over the months of going to meetings, you had actually grown quite fond of him. He was a trained mental health professional, and even if his specialty was not addiction, he still cared enough to dedicate his time to helping others. You were certain that he was not paid well for his two hours a day, and he was working it atop his other job. There was a part of him that loved the charity, and as a true councillor should, cared about helping people more than anything else.

As you sipped at your coffee, Liam approached the group with his head still nestled in his clipboard. As more people trudged in, he looked up to smile as they situated themselves, and that’s when his eyes landed on you. There was a sparkle of something you could not place your finger on, and it made you bite back a laugh. He stepped in your direction, tapping his pen against the cork material of the board as he thought of a snarky remark. “You lose your calendar?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not Wednesday.”

“No, it’s not. Astute observation, smartass.” You replied, smirking at him. The one good thing about NA was him, and the fact that you felt like you could be yourself around him. He was not a bible thumper, nor was he a hardass; he was a person who knew struggle, taking time to help other people with their struggle. He understood that you were a barely-adult who dealt with your pain with humour, especially after watching you interact with Dylan and Vincent, and he used it to his advantage. Every now and again, he had to crack the whip to ensure you weren’t using humour to deflect, but most of the time, he agreed that it was a good coping mechanism.

“You just missed me so much, huh?” He sighed, tapping the end of his pen against the board, now. It send a dull yet steady sound through the immediate air, and it was the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for your already migraine-ridden brain.

“Hardly,” you muttered, taking another long gulp of coffee while hoping it would ease the pain in your skull. “Figured if I had to choose between you and the detox box, I’d pick you.”

“Smart choice.” He complimented. “Where’s your company?”

“You really think they’d come to a non-mandated meeting? Are you insane?”

“Some would say so.” He shrugged. “Proud of you for choosing sobriety, y/n.”

“Oh, fuck off with your sentimental bullshit.” You grumbled, but couldn’t deny the tugging of your heartstrings. If there was one thing you loved, it was being told that someone was proud of you. Of course, you were never willing to show your appreciation for the fact, but you definitely held the words close. “You better get started before Carol starts crying or Joey falls asleep.” You said, nodding your head in the direction of the two sitting side by side. Joey seemed as if he was nodding off, and Carol was already weepy-eyed.

“Right, it’s about that time.” He sighed, nodding curtly. “Alright, everyone! Come grab a seat so we can get started!” His voice echoed through the mostly empty room, bouncing off the walls peeling of their paint. The large windows sent flutters of golden light through the room, illuminating the specs of dust in the air. When you looked above the pointed window tops, you could see the shadow of a cross that remained stained to the wallpaper even long after it was removed. The grime of the building ensured that the memory would remain indefinitely. As Liam walked towards his chair at the head of the circle, the small heels of his dress shoes clacked against the rickety floorboards. When he sat, the legs of the plastic foldout chair scraped against the already scuffed panels. It was underwhelming in its entirety, yet you found it oddly comforting.

As the bodies pooled into the chairs, leaving ample spaces between themselves as they sat down, you crossed your legs and pulled the frumpy jacket closer to your body. The building was drafty, shifting and groaning under every strong gust of wind and threatening to give out under the pressure. You picked at the threads of loose skin around your fingernails, awaiting Liam’s routine meeting opener.

“Good morning, everyone.” He spoke, his voice echoing throughout the whole room. He was cheerful, but not overly, and he was excited to get his part over with so he could sit back and observe. “As some of you know, Friday’s are completely open discussion days, just the same as Monday. If this isn’t your cup of tea and you’d like to check out the speaker meetings where I guide you through the steps of recovery, you can stop by from Tuesday to Thursday. I’m here at the same time every day, 11am and 2pm, so if you require another session outside of your normal attendance schedule, you know where to find me.” There were a few mutters of agreement from the crowd, but most of them had their eyes on the clock, waiting for the hour to finish despite it only just getting started.

“Are there any newcomers in the crowd today?” The question was mandated, even if he already knew the answer. He recognized you all from the minute you stepped in; the whole crowd was familiar with each other now. “Right, okay.” He nodded, jotting something down on his clipboard. “As always, remember that if you run into any issues outside of the normal meeting times, we always implore you to give a call to the friends you’ve made here. There’s a list of numbers available by the door for anyone who has volunteered to be a sponsor. Remember—“

“Dial it, don’t file it.” The whole group chanted back to him before he could speak. The mantra was drilled so deeply into your brain that you were sure you muttered it in your sleep. He gave a tight lipped smile, understanding the redundancy of his words.

Open speaker meetings were your favorite. You did not find much solace in Liam droning on for a half an hour, as his personal experience with addiction was nonexistent. It was a comfort to tell your story and have it touch others, and it was nice when you could hear the struggles of other people. It made you feel less alone, and it felt less clinical. When Liam took up an hour of your time, yapping away about resilience and self awareness, it was difficult not to fall asleep in your chair. You chose Wednesday’s as your regular days when you learned it was Vincent and Dylan’s scheduled day, but not for many other reasons. Sometimes, it was nice to hear advice and encouragement, but in the long run, it did not hold much value to you. You opted to go to plenty of meetings outside of your normal time, just so you could get all of the benefits of it.

“Remember to stick around after the meeting so we can hand out chips or tags, whichever you prefer. If you brought your white chip with you today, we can upgrade you to silver.” He gave a smile, as if handing in a surrender token was a victory and a 24-hour token was a milestone. You were certain that everyone around you had a million silver and white tokens littered across their homes, yet it never seemed to stick. You knew that for you, at least, a silver token was a punch in the gut rather than a pat on the back. “So, if there’s no questions, we can get started.” He said, surveying the crowd for a raised hand or an interested eye. When he was met with nothing, he gave a slow nod, crossing his legs and taking in a long breath. “Would anyone like to start us off?”

The silence was so abundant that you could hear the honking of horns from the road. You waited for the chirp of crickets, but you knew that the building was filled with too much asbestos to house any living creature, insects included. Spiders on the other hand had seemed to grow resilience when it came to the toxicity of the environment, which only made them superhuman in comparison to their former self. You could see a few dangling from cobwebs in the corners of the room.

“I’ll go,” you said, speaking up only when the silence grew unbearable. “If nobody else wants to, I can start.”

“Sure,” Liam nodded, smiling at your willingness to proceed. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, making yourself wonder why you had actually shown up on that solemn Friday morning. What had been so troublesome that you rushed out your front door the minute you woke up so you could attend a meeting?

That was a loaded question, one that likely had a million answers, but you settled on the thoughts that felt most pressing to you.

“I often hear the same sentiment when I talk about my addictions. I get the same sad smiles and sympathetic eyes, the ones that tell me that I’m more fucked up then even I can comprehend. I can see the refrain in their faces, like they want to run and hide. I get that it’s hard to understand something when you’ve never experienced it, but sometimes it makes me wonder how it’s so easy to dehumanize people who’ve gone through or are currently facing struggle.” You didn’t stop speaking for a reaction, but rather to gather your many thoughts before speaking them aloud. It seemed as though you were in more of a talking mood than you previously thought, because now that you had begun, you felt no inclination to stop.

“When someone grieves, we do not go out of our way to alienate them from us. When someone gets in an accident, we parade around with bouquets of flowers and well wishes. When alcoholics drink themselves to the point of no return, we put them on a transplant list for a new liver and hand out brochures on how to live a sober life. Why is it when someone learns that I’m an addict, I am denounced to nothing but a thief and a criminal? What makes my struggle different? What makes me less worthy of help?” You posed the question to the crowd, not expecting a real answer. “All of the aforementioned reasons are worthy of sympathy and compassion, but it makes me question why my struggle is not. Why, even when I walk into an Alcoholics Anonymous hall and speak my troubles aloud, they look at me as if I’m evil, as if their addiction is better than mine? The superiority complex of an addict who deems their addiction more digestible than my own makes my skin crawl, yet I see it every day.”

“I’ve been an addict since I was born, even if I didn’t touch drugs until I was a teenager. The addiction was engraved in my brain since conception—no matter active or not, I will always have the symptoms of the disease. It was shown to me first by my father, who was willing to abandon his three children in search of a high. I learned the rest of it from my mother, who was the highest functioning alcoholic I have ever met.” You paused, forcing your thoughts away from the face of your mother, which only ever seem to enrage you.

“When I was three, I was addicted to apple juice. I used to scream and cry and kick my feet until I was red in the face and my lungs started to ache. As soon as they placed that Disney Princess sippy-cup in my hands, it was like they shot me with a fucking tranquilizer dart. Two hours later, it started all over again. When I was seven, it was marshmallows. When I was eleven, it was that stupid fucking ‘Peggle’ game on my brothers Xbox. When I turned thirteen, I drank alcohol with my best friend for the first time. We stole it from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank so much we threw up for two whole days.” You explained, leaning forward in your chair and looking towards the floor.

“Even as I spilled my guts over that toilet and spent forty eight hours in misery, I knew that apple juice had nothing on alcohol, and it had given me more satisfaction than anything ever had. On my fifteenth birthday, all of my friends were out of town, so I thought I’d have my own fun at home alone, and hopefully drown out the sound of my mother terrorizing my brothers in the living room.” You explained, giving an empty smile. “I looked through my mothers pill cabinet, pulling out bottles and typing names into my phone to find out what it would do for me. I went back to my bedroom with three little white pills in my hand, locking the door behind me and sealing my fate for the rest of eternity.” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes for a moment. “That night, I discovered that OxyContin was far more effective than ‘Peggle’, and from there, I became the worst version of myself.” You heard a few hums of agreement around the room, unable to look up at the sad eyes staring at you. You knew that they hated seeing someone so young face the evil fangs of opiates, but no matter if they were sympathetic or not, you were still hurting over it just the same. Silence became you and you were unsure if talking was making it better, or hurting you more.

“My point is,” you continued, feeling your courage begin to return. “I didn’t wake up on my fifteenth birthday and decide to be an addict. I didn’t decide to be an addict every time I used after that, because it was never a choice. If you have bipolar disorder, it was in your brain long before you ever showed symptoms. If you have cancer, half of your insides are rotten before they catch it. I had an addiction long before I ever touched drugs, and I’ll have an addiction until the day I die. It does not make me lesser than anyone else, and it doesn’t make me a bad person. I had shit luck and poor genes, and I’ll suffer for the rest of my life, but my suffering does not make me a bad person, and it does not make me any different than another person walking down those streets. I’m not inherently evil because of it; I’m just someone who’s made mistakes, trying to atone for them. I’m still that little girl crying for apple juice, or that pre-teen begging my brother to play a game. The only difference is, I’ve had a taste of something far more powerful and much more lethal. I’m tired of being painted the villain, because it was the substance that turned me bad. I hurt people, and I hurt myself, but every day I wake up and choose to be different. It does not take away from what I have already done, but it does change to who I will be. That is the difference between a good person and a bad person, not the demons they’re fighting against.”

“I’m an addict, and I know I will be an addict until the day I die. I was born that way, but I made the conscious decision to use, and I will be stuck repenting for that until my last breath. I can’t sit before you and tell you I regret my decisions, because those were some of the best days of my life. I don’t regret it, even if it was a mistake. It was the best thing I have ever felt. I wake up every day still craving the high, wondering if it’s easier to just give in and let go. I spend every waking minute chasing that feeling, and even if I know I can never have it again, it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It’s a constant struggle, a reminder of my own mistakes that I’m still trying to run away from, and it’s torture. At the same time, I came here today because I’ve been stuck wondering if it’s possible to change, to not be this person anymore.”

“I want to be good, to love life without being dependent on substance, but I worry that it’s not possible. I want to breathe without restraint, and I want to live without chains constantly holding me down. When I think about how hard it is to stay sober, I try to remember how hard it is to be an addict, and sometimes not even that can scare me away. I want to go back to the days where ‘Peggle’ and marshmallows could make me feel the same way. I’m trying to be something I’m not, and I’m afraid it’s not ever possible to be what I want. Will I be seventy years old and happy that I stayed sober, or will I be in that rocking chair looking back at my life, surrounded by grandchildren yet still remembering what it felt like to swallow that pill? Worse than that, I worry that seventy will never be in my hands, and I’ll die of the sickness before I can ever see it.” You paused, realizing that you were taking up far too much time. You blinked hard, bringing yourself back to reality and settling back in your chair. You looked to the water stained ceilings with tears pricking your dry eyes, wondering how the hell you got yourself here.

“Sobriety has been my best friend and my worst enemy, and I came here today because it’s my enemy. I know what I need to do, but today just it doesn’t seem possible. For now, I’m here. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and try again, because that’s all I can do. When it feels impossible, I just keep telling myself that it’s for the best. I'm no stranger to starting from zero, so what the hell is one more try, right?” A slow round of applause echoed around the room. You fought back an eye roll, knowing that all that you had said was not worthy of a celebration. It was a ugly thing, a eulogy to your former self, and sobriety had never been something you were proud of. It was a struggle, and it was something you could never seem to commit to. Trying again was your area of expertise because of how good you were at fucking up, and you did not feel right celebrating a temporary victory while the hardest battle was still looming just overhead.

“I can speak for everyone when I say that we’re incredibly happy that you decided to come here today.” Liam said, sending you a smile from across the circle. You forced one back, unable to hold his gaze for very long. “You’re not starting over again, y/n, you’re just starting to try harder.”

“Right,” you nodded, tracing the scarred stick-and-poke tattoo that was already fading away from the back of your hand. It did not feel like you were trying harder. If anything, it felt like you were closer to giving up.

If you had a shred of self awareness, you would have been able to see that because of that fact alone, you were trying harder than you ever had.

As Liam opened the floor for another poor soul, you thought over all you had said in your confessional. You wondered why you were feeling all of those things so strongly, and why they seemed to be worse today even in comparison to the days you spent sweating and shaking on a bathroom floor. Then, you remembered Vincent’s harsh words thrown your way the night prior, feeling yourself ache from the memory as if he was standing in front of you saying it all over again.

Vincent was your best friend, the one constant you had since packing your entire life up and moving across the country. He knew everything about you, held you at your worst and shared the happiest days. You cared so deeply about him, and definitely in a way stronger than friends, but you so badly wished you didn’t. Him knowing you so well made it easy for him to hurt you, and despite all the good he had and could still do, he consistently proved to you that he did not want to do good by you. He knew you so well, but it was the very reason why he had so much power to hurt you. Vincent wanted to love, but he did not know how. His feelings were fragile just as well as his ego, and he did not understand a thing about change. He was stuck in his way, never willing to see a different side of things, and because of that, it drove the two of you apart. The night prior, when he’d been so crude and unapologetic about his feelings about you and Danny, he wanted to hurt you in the same way he was hurting.

Lucky for him, he did just that, and even more so. He wanted to hurt, and hurt he did. It was so bad that you found yourself seeking comfort from strangers in an NA hall. It was so bad that it made you want to turn to drugs to take the ache away.

What he said stuck with you, and not just because he was the one who said it. Of course it hurt that he would say such terrible things to you, but you had grown used to Vincent taking his anger out on you in the form of harsh words and insults. Most of the time, you could brush it off after a while of sulking, but it hung over your head because you were terrified he was right. You liked Danny for many reasons, one being that he was nothing like Vincent. That being said, he was also nothing like you.

He did not know what it was like growing up with parents like yours, nor what it was like to spend most of his adolescence in and out of rehabilitation programs and therapy. He did not understand what it felt like to be at the police department, filing yet another missing persons report for his father, or better yet, getting detained for a night but unable to be held due to age. He did not know what it was like to run away from home every other weekend because sleeping under a park bench seemed more appealing than sharing a space with his mother. More than anything, he did not understand what it was like for drugs to take precedence over every other thing in his life. You certainly didn’t take him as such, and you were sure that by now, you would have seen some inkling that he was like you. You wanted to find anything that could relate to your tragic life, but there was nothing.

You looked back on all of your conversations, wondering if maybe you missed something he said, but it all aligned perfectly with Vincent’s venomous words. He played golf, specifically with his dad, he was traveling the world with his best friends to find ‘inspiration’ without needing to find a part time job in every city, and he confided in you once on a Sunday evening that he missed his mom.

Danny did not know what life was like for you, nor would he ever, even if he tried. Your struggle was completely foreign to him, and although he seemed like someone with a big heart and the desire to understand and sympathize with everyone he came across, you feared that once he knew all of you, he would run with no intention of ever coming back. You couldn’t blame him, because your baggage was too heavy for even yourself at times, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It was a terrible feeling to have, knowing that no matter how much you like someone, you can never be completely transparent and honest with them about yourself. You would never expect him to accept the tragedies that accompanied you, and you felt foolish for thinking that you could have a relationship with someone so normal while you were so far from it.

You wanted him to be the one to take you away from such things, but you feared the tragedy ran so deep that you would be the one to bring him down with you.

Of course Vincent would be the one to point out your flaws and ruin a good thing before it happened.

Then again, you could not blame him, because you were equally as good at fucking things up.

You liked Danny too much to cut him off entirely, so you decided to continue on with the texting and calling, and even the laughing until 4am and the harmless flirting. You would cut it off when the time was right, just so you didn’t fall too hard for him. You knew it was best, because he was too good to get caught up in you. He was someone you could have fun with, to distract you while you built yourself back up. He would leave eventually anyway, and you would never have to think about it again. Your skies were much too dark for a rainbow, and now that you were thinking of it, you weren’t sure they had ever seen anything as bright as him. This way, you could enjoy him for the time being, but you wouldn’t get your heart broken when he decided you were too much for him. It was a win-win for both of you.

Even if you chose to believe such things, you failed to see that you had already gotten your heart broken at the idea of being too broken. Your current situation made you believe all of the previous notions even more deeply, because you had not even faced rejection at Danny’s hands and you were already sitting in a talk circle listening to people drone on about their love of smack and resentment towards their family for keeping them away from it. You were fragile enough that you’d hurt your own feelings with feeble ideas and assumptions, and you were so weak that it nearly killed your ambition to stay sober. Most of all, you were selfish for wanting to subject Danny to such things at all.

That was one habit you could not kick when you got sober; you were a selfish being who loved to feel good, and now that you could not get high, you had to search for thrills elsewhere. Danny made you feel good, and so good that you could not fathom giving that up even if it was better for everyone to do so.

The meeting wrapped up later than usual, mostly due to Carol’s inconsolable crying as she blubbered on about her youngest daughter's wedding and how her invitation got ‘lost in the mail’. You bit your tongue, knowing that correcting her assumptions about the situation would do no good and would only get you a scolding from Liam (and those were the worst). You made sure your phone and your cigarettes were in your pocket before standing, feeling the muffins bounce against your leg. As if on cue, your stomach growled at the memory of the double chocolate treat that was wrapped in plastic, awaiting your attention. Liam instructed everyone to stop by before they left, to which only some of the attendees obliged to. Despite your growing stomach and desire to leave, you complied with the request and approached him before making your departure.

You were the first in line to speak with him, but it did not come as a surprise; usually you were the only one willing to see him once the hour was up. He still had his clipboard in his hand, his pen hovering over the paper as he searched for your name and crossed it off. “You’ve got a thing for apple juice,” he noted, looking up over the frames of his (seemingly expensive) glasses.

“What?” You chuckled, curious as to what he meant.

“You talk about apple juice at every meeting. Is that code for something else, or do you really just like it that much?” Now, you laughed, finding his inquiry less invasive and much more amusing.

“Not code,” you shook your head, the smile lingering on your lips. “I just really like it. When I was a kid, it was the only type of juice my mom would let me drink. Guess it reminds me of easier times, or maybe I still wish apple juice was the only addiction I had to worry about. I don’t really drink it anymore because I worry that I’m trading a drug addiction for an apple juice addiction. In my head, neither are good.” You theorized, looking towards the ground for a moment.

“I see,” he chuckled, reaching over and grabbing his bag and pulling out a red key tag. He handed it to you, smiling at the sight. “Three months as of tomorrow. I feel like I can trust you enough to give it to you a day early. Some motivation to get through the weekend.”

“Right,” you nodded, forcing a smile as you reached for it. “Maybe it would mean more if it was my first time.” You couldn’t help but feel some resentment at the sight. It was your second time getting a red key tag, and it lost all of its novelty once you had to give up the blue tag that signified six months. You almost had your hands on a yellow one, but you fell just shy of nine months after one particularly reckless night at the Pony. You’d had an arrangement of surrender and thirty day markers, but they were less catastrophic to lose when you started over again. Knowing you had nearly a year under your belt just to throw it all away made you sick to your stomach.

“You have to celebrate the little victories, y/n. You can’t always feel like you’re failing, because you’ll never have any motivation to get better.” He said, giving you a stern look.

“But it doesn’t really get better, Liam. It doesn’t matter if I have three months or three years, I’ll still be an addict and I’ll still want it just the same.” You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. “Recovery is just a bandage to keep yourself together. The longer this goes on, the more I feel like I’ll actually be seventy and still feel this way.”

“It’s easier to see when you’re further away from it. Right now, it’s all you know, but that doesn’t mean it will always be all that you know. Life grows around you, but you have to choose if you want to grow with it, or get lost in it.” He explained. You took the tag, shoving it in your pocket. You knew he was right, but it was easier to feel miserable than it was to be hopeful. It felt better when misery was proven wrong rather than when hopefulness was crushed. “You’re doing better than you think. You have three months under your belt. It doesn’t matter that it’s for a second time, it matters that you did it. Some people don’t even get there once.”

“I know.” You cleared your throat, fighting the tears rising in your throat. “Thanks, Liam. I’ll see you next week.” You said, finally looking to meet his eyes.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching back into his bag. You watched for a moment, wondering what he was searching for. Then, after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he pulled out a bottle from his bag. You looked to the ceiling, feeling your face burn and tears rush to your eyes. “I brought it for lunch, but now I think I brought it for a much different reason. You need it more than I do.”

“Liam, I can’t take that.” You shook your head, still looking at the peeling paint at the top of the walls.

“I insist.” He said, using a tone of finality. After a few seconds, you took a deep breath and looked towards him once again. Once you saw the certainty in his eyes, you reached out and took the bottle of apple juice from him with gratitude written all over your face. “Sometimes things are just as simple as apple juice, y/n, not the big complicated mess that you try and turn everything into. It’s not a metaphor, and you’re not trading apples for oranges. It’s a bottle of juice that’s going to make you feel better, and it’s something that won’t hurt you unless you make it into something bigger. You can enjoy it and not have to feel bad about it, just like you’re allowed to fuck up and still believe that you can do better.” He explained, giving you a smile. “You’re in control, whether that means getting high or drinking juice. You decide whether you should or not. Today, you decided to come here instead of getting high, and right now, you’re deciding to drink juice. You’re capable of doing better and being better, because you already have. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.”

“Your right,” You took in a long breath, closing your eyes to regain yourself. “Thank you, Liam.”

“No need for thanks.” He brushed you off, straightening up in his seat. “You have a number to call if you need it this weekend, right?”

“I do.”

“And you’ll use it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I will.” You nodded. He did too, happy with your answer.

“Okay. I’ll see you next week.” He gave you permission to leave, happy that he seemed to have helped. You were a tough nut to crack, between your raging self-destructive attitude and your inability to see the positive side of things, but he was happy to be the one to finally make the difference.

You walked out the front door (sipping on apple juice, thanks to Liam), finding that the air had warmed since you had gone inside. The sun was brighter and the wind was less intense, making your spirits brighten as it gave you a promise of summer. You reached into your pocket to grab a cigarette, finding your chest had loosened from its earlier tension and your migraine begin to subside. As you pulled out your pack, you grumbled at the lightness of it. When you flipped the top open, revealing one last cigarette (upside down for luck, of course), you closed your eyes as you tried not to let the disappointment consume you. You wondered if you had enough money to buy another, hating yourself and the world for having to choose between paying rent or buying the only thing that was keeping you sane.

As you reached for your phone to check your account balance, the screen lit up to show the time. It was already well past twelve thirty, yet that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention. Below the bold numbers was a missed call, which was followed by an incoming text only a few moments later.

“Fuck!” You exploded, uncaring of the passerby’s giving you strange looks.

The addiction had been so pertinent that it allowed you to forget about your anticipated plans with the incredibly cute and sweet boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You dialed the number back, pressing the phone to your ear. Within seconds he answered, his cheery tone warming your heart immediately. “Utah! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Was worried you forgot about me.”

“I’m so sorry Danny,” you sighed, looking around at the people passing you by. “I, uh… I had an appointment I forgot about.”

“That’s okay. How long are you gonna be? Or do you just want to call it off and reschedule?” His understanding was astounding, but it did not make you feel better; it was gut wrenching, and it made it so much harder to keep your heart out of things. Danny seemed fun, sure, but he also seemed like someone you could easily fall in love with. You were playing very a dangerous game.

“No, I’m all good now.” You promised. “If you still want to hang, of course.” The morning has thrown you so violently off course that you were doubting everything, including his interest in your despite him being the one who called first.

“F’course I do.” He chuckled. “I called, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you forced a chuckle, having to agree with him.

“You okay, Utah?” He asked, now seeming a bit concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You assured him. “Was just a rough morning is all, I’m okay now.”

“Hopefully I can make the rest of the day better, then.” He replied, sympathizing with your rough start to the day. He had no idea, but hearing his voice alone had already brightened your spirits. “We’re just driving around. We’re near the Fox if you want me to pick you up, or we can meet somewhere if that’s easier for you.”

“If I send you an address, you think you can find it?” You smirked, knowing he was in unfamiliar territory. You remembered how disoriented you felt when you first came to New York, wondering if he felt the same, or if he was one of those people who didn’t worry about anything at all.

“I’m sure the two of us could figure it out.”

“Whatever you say, Michigan.” You grinned. “See you in a few.”

“Can’t wait.” He said, sincerity laced within his tone.

With that, you ended the call and proceeded to check your bank account, happy to see you had more than you thought. You looked around, checking for cars before jumping off the front porch of the old church and crossing the street. As you cut through an old alleyway, you texted Danny the name of the gas station you were headed to, knowing you would be there before him. There was no way in hell you were going to let him pick you up from an NA hall on your first ‘date’.

Of course, you had little hope that it would be a real date at all, nor did you think that any date like activities would ensue afterwards. They were probably just looking for something to pass the time, and you served as a great tour guide.

As you walked through an old parking lot after the alley, you could already see the old sign for the store. You waited to cross the busy street, and when you saw a break in traffic, you sprinted to the other side. By doing so, it seemed like you instantly left the rough part of the neighbourhood. Fancy cars drove by and women in expensive clothes walked in and out of the convenience store. All the same, you felt immediately out of place.

Tired and still not feeling the best, you tossed the empty apple juice bottle in the garbage, pushing through the door and walking inside. It was moderately busy, but not enough to be bothersome to you. Before running to the register to grab a pack of cigarettes, you walked towards the back of the store where the candy aisle was located. Without much effort, you found the biggest bag of Warheads sour candy that you could see. After that, you turned towards the drink coolers and grabbed the cheapest energy drink. Satisfied with your choices, you walked to the register and placed the items on the counter. The older lady who was working gave you a long look, studying you as she rang in the items.

“Pack of reds?” She asked, already reaching towards the cabinet before you answered.

“How’d you know?” You chuckled, knowing that every few days you came in for the exact same thing.

“Think you’re the only one who buys these.” She said, looking over the bag of sour candy. “Have no idea how you can stand eating them.” She chuckled, watching as you tapped your card against the reader.

“They’re not half bad.” You smiled, waving her off as she tried to hand you the receipt. In truth, you didn’t love them. You had grown to tolerate most sour foods as it was an easy way to curb the craving for the things you could not have. The sourness was a shock, immediately distracting you from the relentless thoughts, and the sugar gave a nice dopamine rush that made you feel better for a few moments. You repeated the process until your tongue was in too much pain to have another, and by then, you were over the worst of the craving. “Have a good day!” You called over your shoulder as you walked out the door, not hanging around for long enough to hear an answer.

As the door shut behind you, you grabbed the last cigarette from your pack and struck the lighter. As the flame ignited the tip, you heard a commotion off to the side of the store where the bulk of the parking lot was. You turned, curious about the sound, but you were not stuck wondering about it for very long. As you focused your eyes under the blazing sun, your gaze fixated on a Jeep, but it was not the vehicle that kept your attention. Instead, it was the curly haired boy hanging his head out the window with a blinding smile on his lips. You could not help but smile back as he waved you over, uncaring about hiding his excitement to see you.

“Long time no see, Utah.” He greeted you as you walked within earshot. “Told you I could find my way around New York.”

“Seems like it.” You chuckled, taking a drag from your cigarette. Without any further comment, he opened the car door and stepped outside with you. “I’m glad you found me. Saves me from sending a search party out for you.”

“You really had such little faith in me?” He raised an eyebrow, his sunglasses sadly blocking your view of his pretty brown eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause you proved me wrong.” You grinned, already feeling the hurt in your chest begin to subside. When you were in his company, it was hard to feel sad about anything. He was so easygoing and excited about life that it was difficult to feel any differently than him. Then, he reached forward and pulled you into a hug, which made your stomach twist and your heart flutter. What would normally be an awkward moment, felt nothing like it. It was comfortable, it was safe, and it was right. You wrapped your arm around him, making sure to keep your cigarette away from his expensive looking jacket so you did not burn it.

The small gesture made all of your fears obsolete; he wanted to be with you, to hang out and waste the day with you. He was disappointed at the idea of cancelling plans, and overjoyed at the prospect of seeing you. He was genuine, and he was nothing like Vincent was trying to portray him as. You didn’t have to feel stupid for liking him so much in such a short time, because he felt the same way.

“I’m glad we didn’t have to cancel, Utah. Been looking forward to seeing you all morning.”

“Me, too.” You breathed. “I’m sorry I forgot about the appointment. Promise I wasn’t trying to blow you off.” You explained, still trying to hold on to the lingering scent of his cologne as he let go.

“No worries, I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.” He confessed, a sheepish smile crossing his lips. “We still have a few hours before you have to get to work. I’m sure there’s lots we can do by then.”

“Yeah, for sure.” You nodded. “So what about this Sam guy I’ve been hearing all about? Is he imaginary?” You said, looking to the front seat to see nobody else in the car.

“That’s me,” You jumped in surprise when a head popped out from the backseat. A smiling face stuck between the two front seats let you know that Sam was in fact real. The tint on the windows allowed for him to stay concealed, but it did not answer any questions about why he was sitting in the backseat. Then, a second head popped out from between the seats, but this one was much cuter than the two boys combined. “And this is Rosie. Hope you like dogs.” Sam grinned, reaching up and wrapping an arm around her.

“Hi,” you laughed, unable to keep a straight face at the sight. “And I definitely do. No need to worry about that.”

“She is pretty, Daniel. You were right.” At that, your cheeks turned red, but not nearly as badly as Danny’s did.

“I should have left him at home.” Danny muttered, shaking his head at his friend.

“No worries,” you said, reaching out and landing a soft hand on his arm. “Good to know you think I’m pretty.”

“As if that wasn’t obvious enough.” He said, looking down at your hand on his arm for a moment, then back up at your face. The two of you shared a glance for a moment, wondering how it seemed so easy between you despite you barely knowing each other. You wanted more, to know him and to spend every afternoon making jokes and laughing. You wanted to kiss him, and you had since the very first time you laid eyes on him. He seemed like he wanted it too, yet the both of you remained frozen in place, neither one of you having enough courage to move first. “So, you have any ideas for what we can do today?” He changed the topic, too nervous to continue staring.

“Depends on what kind of day you want to have.” You said, only mildly disappointed at the change of subject. You knew that kissing him right now in that moment was not the wisest idea, especially with his best friend observing the both of you so closely. Plus, you feared that if you leaned forward and captured him in a kiss, you would only be doing so in hopes of covering up all of the misery from the morning. If you were to kiss him, you wanted to be certain it was for the right reason. “There’s a park not too far from here. It’s a super nice spot, not too many people go. I’m sure Rosie would love it.” You said, motioning to the dog that was clinging to Sam’s side. “Or there’s a few shops a few streets over. I think they’re all pet friendly. I see lots of people in an out of there with loads of different pets.”

“We can do both if you want.” Danny offered, looking inside the vehicle momentarily to see if Sam was in agreement.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking the last drag from your cigarette and tossing the butt into a nearby puddle. The snow was long gone now, replaced with rain as dampness lingered on the ground to remind you of the winter. You were excited for warmer weather, and the sun in the sky seemed to be promising of a nice day.

“Hop in, Utah.” Danny nodded his head towards his car, but quickly second guessed his choice. He took a step in your direction, but walked past you and to the other side of the car, opening the passenger door for you. You followed after him, sheepishly climbing into the vehicle after muttering a small thanks. Within seconds, he was back in the drivers side, smiling over at you. “You just tell me where to go and I’ll drive.” As he spoke, Rose seemed to be fighting with Sam to try and get to the front seat, intrigued at your presence and excited to get to know you.

You sat the bag of candy down beside your leg on the seat, then placed the energy drink in the empty cup holder. You slid your lighter in your pocket and shifted around to get a better look at the dog that seemed so eager to greet you. “Hi, baby.” You reached out cautiously, not wanting to scare her. She sniffed your hands for a moment, which quickly turned to licking, then she shoved her head into your hands so you would pet her. As you scratched behind her ear, Sam seemed to be laughing at the two of you.

“She likes you… We’re gonna have to keep you around.” Sam deducted, his hand still resting on her back. You noticed he was holding the back of her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t proceed any further than she already had.

“I guess so.” You chuckled.

“Is that… breakfast?” Danny asked, stifling a laugh as he looked down at the bag of candy and the beverage you had purchased. He’d been trying to hold the question back, but it seemed too pressing to ignore. You looked down at the items he was referring to, feeling a small blush dust across your cheeks.

“So what if it is?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light despite feeling defensive over the fact. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you for a moment. You reached down, tearing the bag open and grabbing one of the candies. You extended your arm towards him with a stupid smile on your lips. “Want one?” He watched you for a moment, trying to figure out if you were being serious. His gaze flickered to your hand and eventually, he reached out to grab it.

“Do you want something to eat? You know, other than caffeine and cigarettes?” He offered, a smirk stuck on his lips.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching into one of your large coat pockets. You pulled out one of the wrapped muffins, flashing him a smile. “That’s what this is for.”

“You really came prepared, then. I can appreciate that.” He laughed, not sure if he was willing to accept you having only a muffin for breakfast. Then again, he didn’t necessarily feel like it was his place to say anything, even if he wished he could.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You chuckled. “If you cut through the parking lot and go down that little side street,” you paused, pointing in the direction of the street that was just barely visible. “And you drive down the road for a while, there’s this cute little antique shop that I think is pretty cool.” You explained, sitting back in the comfortable seat. It was way better than the leather seats in Vincent’s old car, but you neglected that thought. You shouldn’t have been thinking about Vincent at all. Instead, your focus should be on the boy sitting across from you, the very one you stayed up until sunrise writing about in your journal. The same one you had been texting until you were too tired to respond, and the one who infiltrated your dreams and put a smile on your face even during sleep.

You did not know Danny very well, but you knew him well enough to know that since meeting him, the world seemed a little bit brighter. The rain was less dreary and not even the bitter wind could bring you down. You were excited to wake up, happy even to foot the phone bill that was usually paid with a twenty dollar bill, because the new price meant that Danny had not grown tired of talking to you. You wrote in your journal until your fingers felt like they would fall off, and you had a growing collection of notes scribbled on scrap paper left on the dirty tables at the Fox. He gave you something to look forward to, and he gave you something to smile about. When you finished talking to him, you were not plagued with guilt or worry like you often were when you spoke with Vincent. You did not know Danny well, but you wanted to, and you were determined to. You made a pact with yourself to know him as well as you could by the end of the day, because you never wanted to stop learning about him.

And Sam now, too. You could not forget about him and his big personality sitting behind you just out of sight.

“To the cute little antique shop, then.” Danny said, smiling as he reversed out of the parking space and drove in the direction you told him to. “So what makes this place so special?”

“What?” You chuckled, looking over at him.

“It’s gotta mean something to you if it’s the first place you thought of.”

‘Damn him and his observant self.’

“Yeah, I guess.” You nodded. “I go there a lot. Was one of the first places I found after I moved here. I bought a journal there my first day in the city, and I used it until there was no way I could fit anything else in it.” You explained. “They have lots of old paintings and household stuff, and a huge collection of records and books. They get most of their stuff from estate sales and the rest of it from people who were sick of looking at it.”

“Do you collect records or books?” He asked, curious about your hobbies other than writing.

“No,” you shook your head. “I have some books, but I write a lot more than I read, so I don’t really see a need to buy more than I’ll ever need. I love the records, and I would buy them if I had a record player. Been trying to save up for one, but it never seems to work out.” You smiled, looking over at him. It did not break your heart that you didn’t have a record player, mostly because it was a luxury, and you were used to never having anything luxurious. You were thankful for the roof over your head and food to eat, and unless those were taken away, complaining wasn’t something you were fond of.

“What records would you buy if you had a player?” Sam asked, piping in from the backseat. You took a moment to think about it, but eventually settled on the first ones that came to mind.

“Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan,” you said, confident in your answer. “I remember my grandfather playing over and over again until my grandmother was so fed up she turned it off herself.” You chuckled. “Harvest by Neil Young, too. He was a big fan of that one.”

“Good choices.” Sam commented, surprised by your answer.

“Can’t Buy a Thrill!” You exploded, unsure how you could forget such a monumental album.

“Steely Dan?” Danny looked over at you from the drivers seat, intrigued by your enthusiasm. There was a smile still lingering on his lips as you looked over at him, the sight nearly taking your breath away.

“The first time I heard ‘Dirty Work’, it changed my whole life. My brothers got so sick of it that they would pay me to turn it off. They’re not the brightest though, cause I made at least a hundred bucks off of them.” Both boys got a good chuckle out of the thought.

“Noted,” Danny said, switching between watching you and the road. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Two,” you replied. “Both older. Patrick is 26 now, and he works for some fancy tech company back home. Hunter is 25 and works at a construction company.”

“Are you close with them?” He continued to ask questions in hopes that he could know you better than anyone else. Knowing you was his top priority, much like how you wanted to know him.

“Not as much since I moved away from home, but yeah. Even when we were kids, we did everything together.” You explained, not wanting to dive too deep into it. You were close not by choice, but out of necessity. Your family was so fundamentally fucked up that relying on your siblings was the only way to survive. “You said you had a sister, right? You mentioned her the other night when we were talking.” He nodded at your words, happy that you remembered the small detail. Little did he know, you clung to every word that left his mouth. “Just her, or do you have more siblings?”

“Just her, but Sam is close enough.”

“Do you have siblings, Sam?”

“Three of ‘em.” He chuckled.

“So you were never bored growing up, I take it.”

“Never.” He confirmed, giving you a smile from the backseat.

“The store’s just up here on the left,” you told Danny, glancing over at him. You couldn’t help but admire him for a moment, finding that the sun was shining on him in the most perfect way. It illuminated his already glowing cheeks, shadowed by the curls of his hair hanging over his shoulders. The sunglasses sat atop his nose, but with the sun shining on the dark lenses, you could see him looking over at you, too.

Danny pulled into an available parking space that you pointed out, looking around the streets as people walked by. Many had leashed dogs and coffee cups in their hands. The scarves wrapped around their necks made it seem like it was colder than it was, and so did the expensive coats. You always felt slightly out of place when you visited the shops. They were decorated with people screaming with wealth. Leather handbags and clothing that had never experienced a tear or a stain. You knew you were from the poor part of town, your apartment complex falling apart and homeless people littering the sidewalks and alleyways by your home. The corner stores and bars were in just as bad shape as the Fox, and the skyscrapers stopped tickling the skyline about a mile out from the section of the city you called home.

You didn’t mind it, but you did fear that the other two would if you brought them by your place. You were always conscious of what others thought, even if you knew you shouldn’t care. It was much easier said than done, and even if you believed you weren’t doing that bad, you were doing quite poorly in comparison to the majority of the population. The discounted rate on rent from subsidized housing was the only reason you could afford your shitty apartment, and even if you had made it into a home, it was far from flashy. The entire building looked like it would give way under a strong wind, and the inside was only slightly better. You covered most of the holes and peeling paint with art, but it only went so far. The appliances were older than you, and the landlord had aesthetically fixed all of the major issues, but it did not help the structural integrity.

You always felt out of place when you were in a store, no matter fancy or not. You feared your card would decline every time, and you wondered if the few items in your refrigerator and cupboards would last you until next payday if you purchased anything extra. Most people tried not to pass judgement when they realized your economic status, but you could see it in their eyes. It was pity more than anything else, but you would be lying if you said it did not bother you. It killed you to think that Danny would look inwards at your life and feel the same things, but you knew it was a possibility. Unfortunately, as much as you wished it wasn’t, not only was it always a possibility, but a reality.

“You ready?” Danny asked, breaking your focus from your internal brooding.

“Yeah, f’course.” You nodded, pushing a smile on your lips. You got out first, stepping on the sidewalk and turning to face the vehicle as you waited for the other two to join you. Danny stepped out first while Sam made sure Rose was leashed properly. Not long after, the other two were walking happily to accompany you. You looked at the door, smiling as you saw the little sticker with the silhouette of a dog encased in a big green circle. “See, Rosie?” You grinned, looking down at her. At the sound of her name, her tail began to wag as her tongue hung happily out of the side of her mouth. “Told you they’d let you in.”

With that, Danny stepped towards the door, letting his hand fall on the small of your back. The gentle touch was barely noticeable, yet it turned your whole world upside down. Your stomach erupted into butterflies and your heart sped, and you began to question your own sanity. A man had never before made you feel so strongly from such a small action, especially an innocent one. You all stepped inside, taken by the scent of old books and oil paint. The store smelled the same every time, and when you got closer to the register, you could notice essential oils and brewed coffee. It was a comforting feeling when you stepped inside, familiar as if you had lived a thousand lives inside that store alone.

“I’m gonna check out the paintings.” Sam said, his eyes immediately catching on the fancy frames and landscapes encased inside.

“Sam’s a bit of an art whore.” Danny mumbled, turning his head down to look at you. He was standing closer than usual, definitely closer than he would at the dinner, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Aren’t we all?” You challenged, wishing he would move closer.

“True,” he nodded. “If you don’t like art, you’ve gotta be a pretty disappointing person.” You let out a laugh, abrupt and loud at the harsh words coming from such a sweet mouth.

“Right.” You nodded, wondering if it was possible to live in the moment forever. It was so simple with his hand on your back and a laugh stuck between your teeth. The world didn’t seem so terrible, and unlike how life normally felt, the small world the two of you were existing within seemed right. There was no fear of the unknown, no guilt or shame, and it didn’t feel forced. You felt like you’d spent 23 years of your life faking it, but with him, the connection felt real and not based on any external factors. It was simple attraction and nothing further than the fact that the two of you got along well. “Come with me,” you whispered, nodding your head in the direction of your favourite room in the entire shop.

The building was quite similar to that of a townhouse, and if you had to guess, you imagined it once was. They allocated the different rooms for each genre of items they sold. There was a record room, a room for books, home decor, and clothes that looked to be made decades ago. The main area had the register and was plastered with paintings and posters all waiting for someone to take them home, and miscellaneous items were displayed on tables within various rooms. Most of the things inside the store were much too expensive for you to even imagine buying, but every now and again you stumbled across a tiny treasure that you could afford to bring home with you. Sometimes, they heavily discounted things when they were getting ready to bring in new items, so you knew to keep your eye out for any advertising signs.

When you passed through the doorway, Danny was still close behind. He took a few moments to look around the room, taking it all in. After a while of shared silence, he let out a long exhale. “Wow.” He stated, unwilling to leave your side despite being eager to look around.

“It’s great, right?” You chuckled, taking in the shelves full of vinyl records. “I knew a music guy like you would have to appreciate it.”

“Music guy…” he trailed off, looking down at you for a moment. “You remembered?”

“Obviously.” You gave him a soft smile. “Drums, guitar, little bit of mandolin if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” he breathed, a bit surprised at how well you remembered his late night rambling.

“F’course I do.” You reiterated your point, cementing the notion in his brain. Instead of dwelling, you guided him towards the shelves holding the baskets of records. Absentmindedly, you began flipping through the vinyls, hoping he would, too. When he finally took your lead and began his own search, you spoke again. “M’sorry again about earlier. I hope you didn’t think I was trying to ditch you.”

“I actually didn’t think that at all.” He chuckled, taking his time as he read over the name of every album. “I mean, maybe for like a minute, but I honestly thought you slept in a bit longer than usual. I didn’t want to call you—was worried I would wake you.” He pulled one sleeve out above the rest, taking an interest for a moment before putting it back. “You seemed really tired when we were talking on the phone last night.” You froze as his words hit you, suddenly remembering the sleep-laced conversation and nervous butterflies that plagued your entire body. You remembered mumbling sentiments while your wrist wrote out the deepest desires of your heart on paper. Then, you remembered falling asleep, but not a goodbye.

“Did I… did I fall asleep on the phone?” You asked, looking over at him. Redness began to creep up on your cheeks as you waited for an answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, saying it as if the instance was completely normal. “Thought it was cute.” You bit down on the inside of your lip, praying that your face wasn’t giving away your feelings yet knowing it was. Then, the strangeness of the situation hit you and you could not hold back your inquiries.

“Speaking of… what the hell were you doing up at six in the morning?” You asked, turning the tables on him. He glanced over at you without turning his head, suspicious without even speaking. “Actually, you seem to be awake every morning when I get off work.” It was a question that crossed your mind more often than not, yet you never seemed to care to ask.

“Early riser.” He shrugged, hoping to avoid the topic entirely.

“Right…” you trailed off, less focused on the crumbling vinyl sleeves and more focused on the crimson of his cheeks. “See, that would be believable, but considering you were at the diner at one in the morning last night, I don’t think that’s the case.” You pressed further. “No way you’re so cheery for a man who only got four hours of sleep.”

“Okay, you caught me.” He sighed, pretending to be upset about your discovery. Truth was, he knew he would have to fess up sooner or later, and sooner seemed to be his only option. “I usually wake up for a little while to talk to you when you get home, and then I go back to sleep when you do.”

You were stunned at the thought, mostly because you could not comprehend someone wanting to talk to you so badly. The effort and thought that went into setting an alarm every morning at six was far beyond anything anyone else had ever done for you. You wanted to chastise him, but it was a bit too touching for you to make a joke out of it.

“You don’t have to do that, Danny.” You whispered, hoping he would look over at you so you could catch sight of the beautiful brown eyes you’d grown to love so much. “I love talking to you, but not if you’re losing sleep over it.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.” He dismissed you. “Besides, I want to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”

For some strange reason, you wished he answered differently. Not because you wanted him to care less, but because you were terrified of him caring at all.

Everything you touched always seemed to turn to dust, and Danny was someone you could not fathom inflicting that fate upon.

“Unless you don’t want me to?” He said, taking your silence as something bad.

“No,” you shook your head. “No… I mean if you want to—if you’re okay with doing it, I definitely don’t mind.”

“Then it’s settled,” he hummed, switching to a different bin to search through. “They have some good stuff here.” He said, pulling out a blue coloured album. You glanced over, recognizing the sight immediately. A smile crossed your face as you watched him.

“Joni Mitchell.” You stated, craning your neck to get a better look.

“You know this album?” He asked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, stepping towards him. “My grandpa might have liked Dylan, but my grandma loved Joni Mitchell.” You were right behind him now, close enough that you could have placed a hand on him had you been courageous enough.

“You talk about your grandparents a lot.” He noted. “You close with them?” He could hear your breath hitch in your throat as he finished speaking, wondering if maybe he never should have spoken at all. After a moment, you recovered enough to answer.

“I was, yeah.” You cleared your throat, covering up the strain of the words. “I spent most of my time there, actually. My grandma was my best friend, and my grandpa was a close second. He passed away when I was fifteen, and she passed away not long before I moved here. If they were still around, i probably never would have moved at all.” He turned towards you, letting the record slide back to its original place. His hand landed delicately on your hip, but in no way did it appear romantic. Even if your face was stony, he could see the pain plaguing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Utah. I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. “I love talking about them, and I’m glad you asked.” You assured him. A small smile crossed his lips, stunned by your resilience to pain.

“I’d love to hear more about them, if you ever feel like talking.” His hand on your hip still remained, and the longer he touched you, the more comfortable it became. You never wanted him to stop. Suddenly, it all became a little too real for you. You blinked twice, bringing yourself back to reality as you turned back towards the record bins.

You wanted it, but you did not know how to let it happen. You were so good at making bad decisions that it seemed inherently bad to choose the right thing.

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded, knowing that you never would. Then again, never is a strong word, and for some strange reason you had the impression that Danny was someone you could trust. Maybe someday, ‘never’ would turn out to be a distant memory.

You stepped towards another shelf, your eye catching a familiar cover. Carefully, you reached out, sliding it from the stack of records to get a better look. “Oh, wow.” You breathed, buzzing with excitement and nearly forgetting about the heavy conversation seconds before. “Look at this.” You said, catching Danny’s attention without breaking your stare from the vinyl.

He stepped up behind you, much closer than you were anticipating. Your back was nearly pressed against his chest and his hand lingered gently on your side. You knew he could see perfectly over your head; the height difference made it seem like he towered over you. He did so as an excuse to be close to you, and no other reason. You were okay with it, because for the few seconds you had stepped away from him, you’d already grown to miss the feeling.

“Bella Donna,” he said, studying the familiar sight. “Stevie Nicks fan?”

“Who isn’t?” You chuckled, turning it over to check the back of it. All of the records were secondhand, but it made them all the more special. Not only did they come with fantastic tracklists, but a story within every fraying edge and fading color. “She’s fantastic. She’s… everything.” Danny was silent for a moment, taking in your statement. When he finally answered, he wasn’t looking at the album, but rather at you.

“Yeah, she is.” The conviction in his tone made you pause your previous train of thought, turning to look at him as he gazed down upon you. It was evident that Stevie Nicks has long fled his train of thought. You didn’t have the courage to call him on it, so instead, you enjoyed the fleeting feeling of finally being important to someone. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and even when you could remember a time when you did, it felt nothing like it did then. You were overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, unable to comprehend how he seemed so perfect. Every word that left his mouth drew you in, every smile melted your heart, and every touch (albeit few and far between) took your breath away.

You were waiting for something to show, or to peek through the perfect exterior he’d put on for you. You longed for something to appear that could demolish the pedestal you had placed him upon, but it never seemed to come. You knew that with time, you were bound to find something that would taint your view of him, whether it be something major or a plethora of tiny things that steadily creeped up on you. Nobody could be without fault, and the fact that he’d gone so long without showing you any bad traits made you worry that when he did, it would be worse than anything you ever imagined.

Maybe that was your problem; you could not bear the thought of something going well for you, so you self-sabotaged by actively looking for something that would force you to run away.

Most of the time, there was nothing to find, and you were running from a monster created by your very own mind.

When you thought about it for too long, the more it seemed like running was the only thing you had ever known how to do.

You could not wrap your head around the idea of wanting to stay, but as Danny looked down at you with emotion stronger than lust in his eyes, you knew there was nothing else you would rather do. You wondered if running was always your first choice because nobody ever cared enough to give you a reason to stay. You’d known Danny for a short time, so short that he was nearly a stranger. You didn’t know his middle name, or his birthday, or even his favourite color. Despite that, you knew that the feeling of his company was something you’d searched for your entire life, and up until now, you’d only ever found it in one other thing. The difference was, you were confident in saying that the aftermath of Danny’s company was nothing like the aftermath of a good high. He seemed fulfilling, like his aura would surround you long after he left and the feeling in your heart would last even if he was not within reach.

If you weren’t so stubborn, you would have noticed that it had already affected you in such ways. When you stretched your wrist, it ached from all of the writing you had been doing in the early hours of the morning. When you woke that very morning with urges stronger than ever before, your first thought was to go to a meeting rather than submitting to the temptations of substance. You weren’t dreading waking up, nor were you struggling to sleep.

Danny did not fix your life for you, but he did make it easier to cope with. He could not fix problems he did not know existed, nor could he do so even if he knew your troubles. Instead, he allowed you to see a brighter side of life than what you’d grown so comfortable with. He helped you feel excitement for the next day and the possibilities it held. He gave you a person to talk to, making your nights much less lonely. He gave you the feeling of being wanted, and for nothing greater than the feeling of mutual want itself. He didn’t want to see you for ulterior motives, and he did not want anything more out of the interaction. He simply enjoyed your company, and it made you feel more human than you had since you were a child.

You’d been standing for so long in the same position that you feared you’d both turn to stone with your faces hovering inches apart. You did not want to suffer an eternity waiting to kiss, only for the moment to never come, but in that moment it appeared to be your destiny. He was leaned down slightly, and you were straining upwards, but there seemed to be a barrier between you two. The world was begging you to harness the courage to lean forward and close the gap, and as your noses brushed together, even the still-photograph of Stevie was pleading with you not to let cowardice win. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and your stomach was twisted in a knot that seemed to be suffocating you the longer you sat there.

He was so close, the scent of his cologne surrounding you once again, this time much more powerful than the last. You were angry that he wouldn’t make the move first, but appreciated his concern for your comfort. You’d fallen into the position so easily, as if it were natural for the two of you to be together in such a way. You could practically feel his lips on yours despite the distance still existing between you. Perhaps it was so easy to imagine because you wanted it so badly. He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek in his hand. The touch made your lungs burn, inherently causing you to forget how to breathe.

You had never felt so good. You had never felt so alive. You wondered, if his company felt so rewarding even after such a short period of time, what would months feel like with your heart and soul entangled in his. For once, the unknown was exciting rather than paralyzing. As gravity pulled you closer, you began to believe that you could live in the unknown with Danny until the end of time, and it would be inexplicably better than existing within the known without him by your side. He was so close, and it was hard not to jump. You wanted everything all at once, but savoring him seemed like the only option. His lips were nearly brushing against your own, and despite your earlier efforts at shoving the feelings away, you needed him to close the gap between you. You needed it like water, but you were so parched that you couldn’t speak the words nor go in search of it yourself.

You knew how foolish it was to leave your fate in the hands of another, but for once, not even your own psyche seemed to be able to ruin the moment for you.

part two is soon to be yours 🤍

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @dont-go-home-without-me @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco

[reallyrandomtj]

I just wanted to thank everyone who LIKED or COMMENTED on THIS POST about my updated Cancer situation; by that I mean it is now beign and I'm now the closest to being 'cancer free' that I have been in over a year!

The day itself was riddled with emotional and physical highs and lows so once I got home I basically curled up in bed and slept for 10 hours. Yet I have felt both mentally and physically exhausted ever since so I have been trying to rest up ever since with the HOPE I can come back and tackle drafts some time tomorrow or at least be social enough to answer Tumblr IMs.

My social battery still hasn't fully recharged so I wanted to apologize to my mutuals, especially on Discord, for not being able to hold a fun conversation for long. I adore our conversations especially those who have heard my rambles about Moze, who I finally added as a muse to my muse page!

As an apology. I leave you and your muses with these fun Tiktoks to view!

Jing Yuan would do this

My Serval, if she knows a song choreography

Serval 'the cake isn't a lie. Its a trap'

Sampo. Just Sampo

My male muses as fathers

My Aventurine at ship partners, not just Dr Ratio!

[plague-of-insomnia]

hey all i’m under a lot of stress rn so i put my queue on hold again bc i was trying to deal with it last night and i was so exhausted i couldn’t so i paused it

my main doctors fired me basically at the start of this year bc they don’t know what to do with me (the joys of a super super super super rare disease 🙃)… sent me back to someone who fired me 10 years ago, and she ofc was like O_O i have never even heard of these diseases…. and tried to send us somewhere else

apparently there is _no one_ in Houston who treats adults with my class of disease and that is willing to even talk to us 🙃

so now we’re hoping the lady who’s in charge of the charity for my class of disease will help us… she said there is someone in San Francisco who may be willing to consult with someone here and work together….

I just have to hope he will and my existing docs will change their minds

meanwhile I cannot get the pipeline started so I can get my special med approved by insurance because of all this AND

hubby finally got a job and started last week but we still don’t have our insurance info 🙃

so i have “no” coverage right now, cannot get meds i need and cannot start the process for my special drug, which means Im likely gonna miss at least one dose already (bc the process can take weeks or even months)

so yeah, I’m very stressed and at my limit physically and mentally, so if i’m short with anyone i apologize but please do not send me kumbaya shit in my box; if you wanna spin your “just think positive and it’ll all work out!!” crap go somewhere else

[olderthannetfic]

Alright I got kinda a bananas questions for you, but how much time do you think should be divided up between work, hobbies and people. Actually wait more specifically what do you think is a good goal to just sit down and do work, but like actually doing work. Like sitting down for 90 minutes and finishing something not working on said thing for 5 hours then finish it. Over the past couple years I kinda erm, just sorta stopped? My mental health has steadily going to shit and covid fucked that all to hell and I was spending so much time in what was essentially a state of panic(didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s essentially what was happening) that I was too exhausted to do anything and just kind of stopped. I didn’t realize it the time but now that I’m finally getting better Ive noticed how little I was doing and how doing little really negatively effects me. Its become a good marker for me to check that I’ve been actually painting, seeing friends, going for a swim but sometimes it still all goes belly up and I’m trying to figure out what is a good goal.(and whats a good marker for when fucking up) Like a realistic long term goal I can strive for and keep track of. I could real easily just say “go for a swim everyday” but that feels unrealistic. In fact I put exercise in same spot as painting so it would be more like “do hobby for an hour a day” but even that feels like a lot. The thought of that feels exhausting so at least for me it should probs be do hobby thing at least 5 times week. Big goal is to swim 3 times and paint twice or vice a versa. its just hard to do that and then I’ll feel like crap and then notice that I haven’t exercised at all for 8 days and I just don’t move around enough to do that. I’m like a dog or walking house plant that needs to go outside and move around for sunshine and blood flow otherwise I start to physically and mentally feel awful. Its just hard to notice you know? Ugh its annoying because there’s so much shit. Its not just that I need some kinda exercise I also need to do some kinda hobby thing for me and other shit that I like to do. And that isn’t even including the work I need to do. I wasn’t even working before I cannot express enough how much of “doing nothing” I was doing. I’m doing better know with meds and therapy and what not and it is helping but I’ll still get home at 7 and just look at my phone and do some combo of read fanfictin/ play sudoko till I get tired and fall asleep. Then I wake up and shocking, I’m still on bullshit. Sometimes its feels to much to shower (at least with that one I know that I can get away with one at most 2 days with out shower so if I didn’t shower the day before I can mostly just force myself into the shower) that’s what I’m trying to figure out for everything else so I can look at my self force my self to stop looking at phone and paint a shitty flower or something. I was doing pretty good but The other week I house sitter for a friend and was immediately back on bullshit. I barely left her apartment the entire time I was there I’m sure that if I actually went to class, got exercise, painted (I brought all my paints then did fuck all) I would have been able to get more work done. I think Im only actually productive when I’m actually getting up and doing crap. I’m in a contact state of “working” and doing nothing but time is moving forward. I have no idea what this anon is. Ugh whatever I’ll submit it anyway

TL;DR trying to be better at actually do stuff and not doing fuck all. Any idea on what’s a good goal to strive for and what’s a good marker for shits getting fuck go for a walk

--

Social time is going to be extremely variable. I'm an extrovert and thus lots of social time is no problem. I also do okay not seeing people though as long as I'm busy.

Exercise should be prioritized above most other things, much as I hate this. You should be doing something basically every day. I agree that swimming is likely not realistic on that schedule, but maybe a walk around the block? It sucks, but forcing yourself to get off your ass every day will help with the rest of it. Also, exercise that takes you out of the house, even if only briefly, requires that you put on clothes, which is also helpful.

Get off of social media. If you're having trouble managing things, now is the time to take a break from anything that involves doom scrolling and time just disappearing.

(I say from my bed where I'm wearing the dirty sweatshirt I slept in and no pants while answering asks instead of working on my next novel. Hmm...)

It's obviously important to you to prioritize painting, but I see the difficulty there: you have to get set up and clean up afterwards, and you can't leave paints sitting around or they dry out. I'd try to schedule one longer session per week for now. If you have something else like sketching, you can schedule more frequent shorter sessions because that's easier to pick up and put down without a lot of prep/cleanup.

I do find little morning rituals like making tea helpful. They pry me out of bed and add some structure to my day.

[onlyjaeyun]

may i ask what u had in mind for jayke's backstories :0 if we rlly wanna get into it then i can see jayke being fun and carefree BECAUSE they weren't able to act that way at home,,,

maybe jay has strict rich parents who always wanted him to be mature and poised when he was just a kid who wanted to play w his friends :( he learned how to chef it up thru the private chefs at home and learned how to look after others from the butlers and maids that raised him. he's also an only child so the friendgroup are the siblings hes always wanted and he def found a brother in jake so early on i his life bc he was rlly lonely as a child /:

as for jake... he has an older brother (ima age him up hella to fit the narrative) and his older brother cared a lot for him but he was the picture-perfect child and their parents pressured jake to follow in his older brother's footsteps at such a young age. like cmon he was 7 being forced to study physics bc his brother was aceing his high school physics exams on the way to go to the most prestigious colleges w a physics degree. and with their big age gap his brother didnt have time to play w him much bc he was alsays studying and their parents were so focused on the older sibling. jake finds a brother within jay bc hes also lonely and jay was the only person he could be himself around.

now that ive thought ab this man jayke as a duo is so precious to me 🥺 theyre brothers thru and thru bc they found a home within one another. jake always so excited to try new recipes jay is trying out, jay loving to model and style jake, jake sending jay goofy selfie updates of his day to jay, jay being the first person jake calls in the middle of the night for a late night convenience store run which leads to some crazy shenanigans. jayke also building their first lego set tgth when they were 9 and it's displayed in a glass case in the living room of their shared apt.

im sobbing thanks for reading all of this i didnt expect to get super into 😭

-💫

NONIE WHY DID THIS MAKE ME CRY 💀💀💀💀 i'm too emotionally attached to these characters its not healthy.

honestly i love love love your thoughts and theories and i think mine are pretty similar in some ways but not quite and that just makes it so much more exciting 🥺

yk me, i'm just...brutal when it comes to backstories so pls be aware......

poison!jake was raised by a single mother who was never home because she worked so much. she worked late evening and night shifts and would sleep throughout the day so jake basically had to raise himself. she never physically abused him but because he was her main source of exhaustion (since she had to work to provide for him) she's slowly started growing hateful towards him and jake basically tried all of his life to please her just to fail miserably. his mother was never a mother to him, father not in the picture at all and after years of verbal and mental abuse he found a safe haven in jay. they met in middle school and for jake it was quite clear from the very beginning that that guy was his soulmate. he'd never openly say it bc they're too goofy and unserious for that (bc of their childhoods) but there's no person on this planet he's as grateful for as he is for jay.

jay's backstory is kinda similar to heeseung's just the other way around. up until he was seven he had the most picture perfect family with two loving parents who loved their son and each other with everything they have, until his father passed away in a car accident and his mother started resenting her son because he survived and the love of her life didn't. similar to the parks and heeseung he unfortunately was also mentally, physically, emotionally and verbally abused up until he moved out for college and the only person in his life, besides his friend, to show him love was his grandmother. she was the one taking care of him when his mother was at work and she'd even cry with him whenever she spotted new bruises. the only reason he goes back to his hometown every now and then is to visit her grave and keep her updated on his life.

both jake and jay dont have contact to their mothers so they're each other's only family. jay always introduces jake as his brother and whenever people ask him who his favorite person is jake responds with jay. they really are each other's rocks and im literally tearing up writing this URGH

[saturngalore]

So I did see a very big blogger say that they’re too triggered and exhausted by police brutality and watching our peers die, that they choose to not care and don’t have to. I was blown away by that. Yes, god, I am so tired of the problems we face in our country from being black but to show no empathy for others really saddens me. I truly thought some of my peers here were better than that. Seeing your post though restored my faith and I thank you for saying what I couldn’t put into words. A simple reblog for thousands of eyes to see is so important I don’t see how they don’t get it.

hi anon! sorry it took me awhile to respond bc i really wanted take extra time and thought for this. im glad that my post showed you that everyone not think and feel the same about sharing/supporting for palestine even though we may have the same racial/ethnic background. it’s honestly really disheartening but still frustrating to see other black simmers or just really some black people irl to kinda have that same reaction to what’s going on. i completely understand the suffocating trauma and feeling of hopelessness that comes with being black especially in america. not everyone who is black has the same trauma and i cannot speak for everyone especially those who may had a family member, friend or someone they knew affected by police brutality and/or lynching. the response to police brutality was to protect our peace, to take a break, and to prevent us from breaking down to point of not being able to fight against systemic oppression either alive or not. and that was understandable because stress and constantly being in fear about dying a senseless and brutal death for only being black heavily impacts our health both mentally and physically. im not trying to invalid that pain or experiences at all. and i never will.

but it just doesn’t feel right to me personally to turn away and stay silent about a literal genocide occurring right before us that is endorsed by our current president and is funded by american taxpayer dollars. even though im african american and a list of other marginalized identities, i still have the vital and basic privilege of being able to live with a roof over my head, a warm bed and shower, access to food and water when i need it, access to electricity to listen to music and be on my computer/phone, and so much more than many palestinians don’t have the opportunity to have right now. my mental health is not the best some days but waking up to see what’s going on in palestine every day for the past couple days have yet to drain me (this is probably another privilege) because it’s also the small and big moments of seeing palestine children smiling, journalists i have seen ever since this started still alive and reporting, people protesting all over the world via blockades and physical/financial boycotts. my experience during peak blm may have drained me emotional but the experience also radicalized me and made my activism or just simply my outlook on life more focused on love, community, nourishment, and a hopeful life without colonialism and imperialism. if i was more passive in engaging with geopolitical issues and just shut out the world around then i would be missing out on a lot of good things in this life.

i feel like there could be better ways to say this and maybe im just rambling on but there must be a balance between sustaining yourself as a person amid constant turmoil, violence, pain and death versus becoming complicit and silent just like those who oppress want us to be. every single one of us will not win or be free if silence is the only thing people can do to “protect our peace”. at the end of day, we owe it to the palestinians (as well as the congolese, haitians, sudanese, and many others who only ask that we speak up and care more).