#how do i get out without continuing to make myself physically sick

[separatismor]

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[l-starsz]

a/n: this is gonna mention trouble eating, self harm, and throwing up, so if you can’t read about that please skip this and take care of yourself. ily.🩷

why is this how i feel almost every day?

this had been going on for weeks now. i’d been avoiding food and if i had to eat i’d have little amounts before refusing to have anything else for the next few days. billie seemed to be catching on but she hadn’t said anything much to me about it yet. i knew she’d say something soon though. i wasn’t gonna get away with it for long.

i just struggled so much. looking or thinking about food made me feel physically sick. i just couldn’t do it. nothing sounded good anymore except losing more and more weight. i was already skinny, but i needed to be skinnier. i don’t know what made me think like that. i’d never think that about anyone else, i saw everyone’s bodies as perfect, but as soon as i saw mine, the negative thoughts flooded my mind.

it was as if i couldn’t escape. the only thing that made me feel better was not eating. because then i knew for sure i’d stay the same weight. or even better, lose more weight. hurting myself helped too. it silenced the thoughts just for a few minutes, giving me something else to focus on. but since billie caught me doing it, she would often make sure i hadn’t been harming myself.

she didn’t do it in an invasive way, she just wanted to be sure i was okay and was doing anything she could to help me and distract me from it. although she already knew about my struggles with self harm when we met, i was too nervous to tell her when the struggle came back. she only found out when she caught me. i felt so guilty for not telling her or asking for help but i just couldn’t.

i knew that after a while she’d notice i was struggling with food, so maybe i should’ve told her, i didn’t want to bother her though. i honestly felt guilty for being in her life because i thought she deserved someone who didn’t struggle with these problems. she didn’t need to be wasting her time worrying about me, but she seemed to really care. more than anyone else ever had or ever could.

so when i was barely eating, of course she noticed. she always payed attention. and she made sure to keep an eye on me. not long passed of me getting away with it. the conversation came up one evening when i was just laying on her chest, my whole body felt tired and pretty weak as i just watched her scrolling through apps on her phone. i was wearing a hoodie and fluffy pyjama bottoms, cuddled up in billies arms, yet i still began shivering.

the room suddenly felt icy cold as i shivered against her, reaching down to pull the thick blanket over both of us. this made her look down at me before speaking.

“you’re cold angel?”

i nodded and answered, “i’m freezing cold.”

“it’s boiling in this room.. are you sure you’re okay?” she looked concerned.

“i’m good bil don’t worry, just a bit cold.” i slightly smiled and curled up farther against her.

“okay baby..” she wearily accepted my answer, continuing to scroll through her phone.

one of her hands was wrapped around my waist, slowly moving up and down as she was placing gentle kisses on the top of my head every so often. we stayed like this for a while until something happened that i wasn’t expecting. my stomach growled and this made billie avert her gaze back to me once again.

“you hungry angel? i can go make you something to eat. maybe some pasta?” she quietly spoke as she looked into my eyes.

“umm..” i was hungry, but still, nothing sounded good. i didn’t want to eat. i was better off without it. “im not really hungry bil i’m okay. thank you though.”

“can i ask you something?” she gently replied, turning her phone off before chucking it somewhere on the bed and sitting us both up.

i whined as the blanket fell off me when we sat up, still cold. i pulled it back up to wrap around my body before nodding.

“go ahead.” i smiled a little bit.

“well.. i mean i’ve just noticed that you haven’t been eating much recently. you’ve just kind of been avoiding it and i’m worried about you. and don’t even try to tell me that you have been eating because i know you’ve barely had anything lately. i’m not mad at you. not one bit. i just want to help you my love. i care about you and have so much love for you. please just let me help, i haven’t seen you eat a single thing today, or yesterday.”

i looked down at my fingers, not knowing what to say at all. i didn’t want to tell her i was struggling, but she already knew. i couldn’t deny it any longer. i needed to let her in. let her help me. i just nodded, not even looking at her. i was nervous to see how she’d react. what if she got mad?

i felt her pull me onto her lap as i hid my face in her neck. her hands gently ran up and down my back, calming me down and making me realise that she wasn’t mad. she was just worried. she wanted to help.

i felt her place gentle kisses on top of my head before moving me back from her neck and kissing all over my face. this made me smile a little bit.

“angel i know you’ve been struggling lately but i’m gonna help, okay? i want to help. you’re not gonna bother me before you even start with that. you’re not a burden. i want to keep you safe. i want to make sure you’re okay. i care about you so much.”

“are you sure?” i whispered.

“of course i’m sure baby. you mean everything to me. i’d do anything for you.” she kissed me between her sentences. “let’s start with something small. yeah?”

“right now..?” i mumbled.

“right now. something small, just try for me please. i’ll be right here to help you.”

i nodded and we stood up, beginning to walk downstairs whilst she held my hand tightly in hers. she could tell i was nervous about it. i didn’t know if i could do it. eating made me feel sick to my stomach. my appetite had gotten worse since i stopped eating. i couldn’t eat much without getting full straight away and feeling sick extremely quickly.

we made it to the kitchen and billie lifted me up onto the counter with ease. her hands stayed on my waist as she leaned forward a little and began to speak again.

“what do you want to eat?” she was looking into my eyes, making sure i was still okay.

“uhmm. i’m not sure. i don’t know if i can do it..”

“you can do it for me. even if you just have a few bites of something. i’m gonna help you, i promise. do you want me to have something with you? you think that’d help?”

i nodded and mumbled, “can we have pasta? i don’t want anything on it though if that’s okay..”

“of course that’s okay, i’m proud of you for putting the effort in. and i’m proud of you for talking to me about it and letting me help. thank you for letting me help.” she whispered and held me in her arms for a minute or two as i answered.

“thank you for caring.” a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

when we pulled away from the hug she wiped my tears away, then i hopped off the counter and began getting the stuff out that we needed to make the pasta whilst bil filled a pan up with water and put it on the stove to boil. once it was boiling, i added salt to the water before billie poured some pasta in. after a while of listening to music and dancing around the kitchen in eachothers arms, just messing around together, we’d dished the food up and gone upstairs with our bowls.

this was the part i wasn’t looking forward to. part of me didn’t want to do this, but the other part of me wanted to do good for my girlfriend. i knew she really cared and she’d been so worried. her hand found its way to my back and rubbed up and down before grabbing my fork. she got some pasta onto it and looked up at me, holding it up near my mouth.

i hesitantly opened my mouth as she fed me the bite. then she got some pasta out of her own bowl and had some with me. we were doing it together. after a few more bites, i was really struggling.

“billie- i don’t.. i don’t feel good.”

“you’re almost done baby. you’re doing really good for me.” she held my hand in hers.

“i think i’m gonna throw up.” i mumbled.

she didn’t even say anything, just quickly took me to the bathroom and tied my hair back. i was kneeled on the floor when i almost immediately threw up. gross. billies hand soothingly rubbed up and down my back, helping me get it all out. she’d seemed to be helping me a lot today. i still felt guilty.

when i was done, i stood up and brushed my teeth, before we headed back to our room. i got in bed as billie took our bowls downstairs, soon enough returning with some water and crackers.

“can you try to have these for me please? just one or two since youre not feeling good.” she stroked the baby hairs away from my face.

i slightly nodded and reached out to grab her hand urging her to get into bed with me as i carefully pulled her over, laying on her chest before having a few crackers and water.

“good girl. i’m so proud of you for trying. i know you didn’t want to and i know you were struggling but you still did really well despite all of that. you’ve done so good for me today. i’m gonna help you each day, alright? i’m not gonna leave you to do this on your own.”

“thank you billie. you’re the best girlfriend in the world i honestly don’t know what i’d do without you.”

we talked about why i hadn’t been eating and why it was difficult for me. she also asked if i’d been hurting myself again to which i told her the truth and said no, obviously. i hadn’t for a while. and i made sure she knew this.

after a long while, billie had helped me so much that i was able to eat without her asking me. obviously there were still difficult days where i really struggled, but bil was always there to help me and pick me back up when i had bad days. she’d always been there no matter what. and i was so grateful.

[sammylkcho]

Please.. Forgive me.

Warnings/Notes: vague descriptions of dismemberment, descriptions of gory scenes, angst, deaths, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, mentions of suicide, more questions than answers

"I'm sure we’ll be able to get out of this, especially with Painter’s help.. distracting those disposables Urbanshade brings so we can grab the crystal" you said in a cheerful voice, swinging your legs back and forth from the box you were sitting on.

Sebastian let out an uncomfortable hum, his attention glued to the files marked "CLASSIFIED" in bold letters. He was pouring over the documents without even a glance away, barely even pausing to breathe. You’d seen him work himself to exhaustion like this before, sometimes even passing out from the strain. Secretly, you were starting to worry he’d begin hallucinating from the lack of sleep.

Your face unconsciously tightened into a frown, and your lips pressed into a thin line as you noticed his anxious habit—running a hand through his hair and trying to tuck it behind his fins. It reminded you of when he’d always push the hair falling down each side of his face behind his ears back when he was (well, still is) human.

Quickly replacing your frown, you kept chatting away about all the things you could do once you were back on the surface. You mentioned how living by a nice beach could be a fresh, relaxing start for both of you after everything. Painter could even capture the beauty of the sunsets there.

There was no sign he was listening, but you knew his mind was elsewhere. Still, you kept talking—it was a surefire way to help calm your own nerves.

Listening to Painter ramble on about whatever he liked—a new drawing or sketch he’d made, or even just complaining about the disposables—was one of the only things that could ground you, helping keep you tethered when your thoughts began to consume you. Somehow, it both soothed you and brought back all the anxieties you were left with at the end of each day.

Sometimes Painter noticed the shifts in your mood and asked about them. Usually, you didn’t tell him anything to avoid worrying him, letting him continue his usual ramblings, but today was one of those rare moments when you let a thought slip.

“.. Are you alright? I started complaining about Sebastian, and you didn’t even jump in to defend him or argue about it” he noted, trying to keep the worry in his tone hidden. Being soft or consoling wasn’t something his programming was used to after all his time in a place like this.

You looked down, trying to find the right words to explain to the AI the emotional mess you were in now (and, honestly, always) and to make him understand, even just a little.

“It’s just... Is it wrong that I’m becoming numb to someone dying? I used to feel sick, to gag whenever I saw a disposable’s corpse, and now it doesn’t faze me—their deaths or the brutal injuries. It’s like it doesn’t gross me out at all. I think picking through bodies with Sebastian is getting to me...” You chuckled softly, though it was more out of hollow irony than anything.

“And besides, it’s hard trying to help Sebastian when he only lets me tend to the disposables that end up here. Other than that, he doesn’t let me help him physically or mentally.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying in vain to calm yourself or slow down the racing of your thoughts. You felt your breathing grow ragged, your hands shaking beyond your control as if they were reacting all on their own.

“It’s exhausting... I want to help him a little because I know the hell he’s dealing with, but I also have no idea what goes through his head, especially when he won’t tell me the full story.”

Your voice wavered, your teeth chattering as a tremor started to take over your body.

“He tells me I can’t help him when I can’t even help myself. I can handle my mess and his at the same time; I know I can.��

You could hear Painter’s voice saying something, but it didn’t register.

“I know I can do it, I’m fine. I wouldn’t get tired of hearing his complaints or thoughts.”

There was Painter’s voice again. What was he saying?

“I can handle it, I’M FINE—”

“You’re bleeding!”

Painter’s voice came through the old computer speakers so loudly you swore it sounded distorted.

You tasted something metallic on your lower lip, and your tongue quickly recognized the taste of blood when you licked it, realizing what it was.

You looked down at your hands, now stained red, with the indents of your nails pressing into your palms.

When you blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings, you noticed your eyelashes were wet, and your cheeks felt uncomfortably damp. You had been crying too.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing or what for. You just felt the need to after putting poor Painter through this, letting him see you unraveling over your anxieties, showing him this sorry state.

“It’s okay... Just.. do you want to talk it over more calmly?” he asked, his words sounding a bit awkward as he wasn’t sure what to say or do.

You quickly shook your head, wiping your tears away with your sleeve. You braced your hands against the floor to stand, relying on it to steady you because your legs were still trembling. You didn’t trust yourself to get up without some support, given how shaky you still felt.

Before Painter could say anything else, you left as quickly as you could, trying to drown out the voices in your head blaming you for burdening him, for voicing your problems aloud. You didn’t deserve even his pity.

You were pathetic—worse than pitiful.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to show up at Sebastian’s shop, the place you called home.

You sprinted quickly into one of the rooms down the long hallway you’d been running through. Instinct drove you under the desk in the wide room, both hands clamped over your mouth and nose to stifle the sound of your heavy, panicked breathing. You needed to hide from this monster.

Scenes of the person you were escaping from replayed in your head like a film.

It was just another disposable who’d somehow made it this far while you’d been with Painter. You’d spotted him at a distance in a dark room before the voices over the speakers cut through the silence, alerting you and the disposable who was now only inches away from you.

“There’s another person inside the facility. They violated company regulations and are complicit with Z-13. Their elimination will yield twice the initial reward.” The HQ voice blared through the speakers, making you gasp when it mentioned your name.

You’d forgotten that some of the cameras still worked throughout the facility, likely monitoring the disposables and reporting on what was taking them down along the way.

The moment you took a step forward and your footfall echoed across the room, you felt a burning gaze on the back of your neck. Without daring to look back at the person behind you, you took off running, a prey fleeing from its hunter.

The sound of a missed gunshot made your blood run cold in an instant. You didn’t even want to ask how he got a weapon, but he had one—and you were completely defenseless.

That’s what brought you here, crouched under the desk, silently praying to God that, just this once, he would listen and spare you from this person.

You prayed to God, to Eyesfastion, hoping they’d appear out of pure chance and force him to look them in the eyes. Or for an Angler to come roaring through the rooms, Chainsmoker to slow his steps. Any miracle.

Of all the times you’d wanted to be six feet under, wished for death to just take you already, this time you didn’t want to go. No matter how often you’d begged for death to come, this time, you wanted to live.

You held your breath, clamping down on it entirely when the sound of firm footsteps filled the room where you hid.

Closer and closer.

The desk creaked as something leaned against it. He was mere inches away. You could hear his breathing and the clank of the gun as he set it on top of the desk.

Your shaking eyes drifted to the glass in front of you, showing a view of the vast, deep ocean no other human besides Urbanshade could ever witness at such depths. Due to your crouched, hidden position under the desk, you couldn’t see your own reflection in the glass, but you could see his. A sharp gasp escaped you when you saw the appearance of your hunter.

His gaze immediately dropped downward as your gasp echoed through the room. His hand swiftly gripped the gun before he moved around to the back of the desk.

Sebastian was tucking away documents and small DNA samples he found into the neoprene suit of the now-deceased expendable, also grabbing the unused batteries. He stored everything in the small pouches strapped along his tail.

When he finished organizing everything and made sure it was all in place, he started heading back to his tent, the quick thought of seeing you there to talk non-stop just to fill the ever-present silence. A humorous smile crossed his face; this time, he’d make sure to join the conversation.

The door indicator’s number flashed, crackling quickly, before the face of Painter appeared on the screen.

"SEBASTIAN."

The AI’s shout disoriented him for a couple of seconds, leaving him confused by its sudden appearance. Painter usually waited until Sebastian visited him in his usual location to relay any messages, so seeing him appear here and shout was odd.

"What’s going on? I’m doing inventory on the expendables, so you can tell me whatever you need later, you stupid—"

"Shut up, you filthy fish, and get to room 65. They’re in danger."

The mention of your name and that you were in danger ignited something inside him.

You had already mastered the dangers of this place, even if you still trembled with fear after an Angler encounter. What had stopped you now?

He didn’t take the time to respond to the AI, instead moving as fast as his instincts could carry him to the room number. He knew the place like the back of his hand and was only six rooms away—just a little more, and he’d be there.

He was greeted by a wide hallway and the stench of blood, sharply invading his senses and nostrils. The smell was sickening, but he could bear it for a few minutes—though this time, it felt disturbingly familiar.

The stench led him to a room where he immediately noticed blood-stained glass, crimson trails streaking downwards. The sight disgusted him more than anything else, for no clear reason.

His third hand moved to his three-barreled shotgun. Although he heard nothing, something told him that wasn’t a good sign.

His breath caught entirely when two bodies came into view, and he recognized yours immediately, even though he tried not to.

You were covered in blood, both your own and your attacker’s. Dried blood streamed from your nose, bruises becoming clear against the pallor of your skin. You had two gunshot wounds: one in your stomach and another in your leg.

Then he looked at your attacker.

The blood on the attacker’s face made it hard to see him clearly, but gray hair and a graying beard showed through wrinkles and lines that marked his features.

He had also been shot, but his wound was on the forehead, and there were a series of scratches on his neck, arms, and face—made with fierce aggression.

Sebastian could almost picture the possible scenario that led to all this.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if your pulse might still be beating, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

He heard no breath, no desperate gasping for air. Nothing.

The silence terrified him; you were supposed to fill that silence with words, turn that "nothing" into "something."

Had your attacker enjoyed your suffering? Had he even regretted, at any moment, the shots he’d fired at you? Had he seen you lifeless and felt fear at his mistake? Would he have slept soundly knowing he’d killed you?

No.

No, he didn’t believe it.

He would have made him regret being alive. He would have killed him in a worse way than he killed you.

He would have made him swallow his own teeth, fingers, and scraps of skin while he was still alive. Being alive would have been its own torture.

More than anything, he wanted to avenge you, to have done something so that this repulsive creature hadn’t killed or tortured you, even if in some "stupid" way.

…

He needed you.

[sweatyracoon]

Poor Seungmin pt1

(a/n): picture not mine! ALSO- Seungmin is a hybrid, but he doesn't share the same features as regular hybrids. He knows, but his members don't. Because he doesn't have ears or a tail, he thought he wouldn't have a heat either. Boy, was he wrong.

Warnings: suggestive, hybrid!Seungmin, smut, Seungmin is shared, dry humping, cringe, lemme know if I missed anything

Pt 2

After a hard day of practice, Seungmin and the others all went to have dinner at McDonald's, one of his favorite places to eat. Everyone was sweaty and tired, but excited to spend more time together.

Lee know ordered first, offering to pay for everyone, but Seungmin wasn't having it. Instead of giving Lee know his order, he ignored him until he paid for everyone else.

"I can pay for myself, hyung. Thank you," Seungmin smiled lightly, placing his order.

Once all of the food came out, try all sat together, conversing lightly.

"So how should we turn, then, Chan?" Han asked his older member, wanting feedback.

The new choreo was proving to be very different from those before, stunting a few of them.

Hyunjin, sitting next to Seungmin, let his head fall to his youngers shoulder, munching on a fry.

"That girl was cute, Seung. Don't you think so?"

Hyunjin had been trying to find out what Seungmin liked and didn't like, but he was finding it hard because of his stoic demeanor.

"Hyunjin. Do you like her or something?" Seungmin decided to play dumb, knowing what Hyunjin was getting at.

"No. But she looked like she liked you," He responded, yawning.

Seungmin, unlike the rest of the group, hasn't shared his preferences when it came to dating. He knew his hybrid side wouldn't allow a normal relationship, which is also another secret he has kept these four years.

"The color of her ears was pretty though. You think shes a cat hybrid?" Jeonjin asked from his place next to Felix.

"Possibly? They looked more like a mouse, though...Right?" Han asked, his cheeks filled with food.

The boys continued to guess, unsure. But Seungmin knew. Its something every hybrid shares.

"Shes a fox hybrid," Seungmin sighed, tired of the false answers.

The boys turned to him, all quiet.

"So you WERE paying attention," Hyunjin teased.

Seungmin guessed the real reason she stared at him for that brief moment was because she also sensed it. Hybrids without physical features were extremely rare.

"Sure," He responded, eating another nugget.

When they reached their dorms, they all lounged for a while longer in the common room.

"I'm tired. I'm going to go lay down, alright guys?" Seungmin said, rising to stretch, showcasing his torso.

"Gonna go dream about that fox?" Changbin snickered, making the others giggle.

"Shes a girl with fox attributes, okay? Don't be rude," Seungmin scoffed, turning to leave.

Before he made it out of earshot, he heard Lee know say, "Why is he so sensitive about hybrids?"

"Who knows?"

Seungmin sighed as he washed before bed. The guys new why he was so respectful to hybrids. Most of his family themselves were hybrids, including his sister, which they all knew well.

All of his family were dog hybrids. What type? He had no clue. His mother and sister had floppy ears, and short, long haired tails. His dad, however, wasn't a hybrid. That's why, for the longest time, he thought he was the same way.

But he wasn't. A blood test came back, telling him he was one of the most rare type of hybrids. He was happy, but confused.

That's why, when he started feeling hot for no reason, he just thought he was getting sick.

Making his way to his and Bangchans shared room, he collapsed onto his small twin sized bed, suddenly feeling weak. Groaning, he took out his phone and checked the time.

One thirty two a.m. Seungmin was used to being up, and he wasn't really tired now that his body was all achy.

But then the heat pushed further, making him pant. How hot was it? He checked the thermostat next to the door, and it was 73 degrees. Pushing the button to make it lower, sweat was forming just above his brow.

He didn't want to take off his shirt, not wanting to expose himself when Chan comes in.

He changed his sweats, putting shorts on instead. Still didn't change the way he was feeling.

Lying back down on his bed, his head started to think of nasty thoughts.

That fox girl came into mind, making him whimper at the thought. But it wasn't her that was making him sound off, it was the look in Hyunjins eyes when he talked about her to Seungmin.

The teasing look that had a hint of lust in them. Was it lust? Seungmin thought it was just his horny brain.

It continued to drift.

He thought of the dance practice a few days ago, when he tripped and landed on Lee know who was right behind him. The older member was quick to help him get up, and make sure he was okay. At the time, it didn't bother him, but now he realized that Lee know was pressed flush against him, his large, firm thighs pressed behind him. Lee knows hands rubbed his shoulders, his face so close to Seungmins neck he could feel his breath lingering.

"Are you hurt?" Lee know asked, squeezing his shoulders.

"No, hyung. I'm okay," Seungmin smiled.

Now all Seungmin could imagine was Lee Knows thighs caging him, his hands all over his body.

And Han! When Han bit him playfully after Seungmin called him a rat instead a quokka. Han bit hard enough to leave his teeth marks, right on his forearm. What if he bit his neck instead?

Seungmin was a full on mess, a tent now forming in his shorts as he was laying on his bed above the blankets.

His breathing was ragged, and his body felt as if it were on fire, making him groan. He couldn't sit still, rocking back and forth as his mind became filthier.

He rocked a little too much, eventually falling off the side of the bed. It wasn't a steep drop, but enough to make noise. That was about the time Bangchan came in, expecting to fall asleep, only to find a disheveled Seungmin that had fell from his bed.

"Seungmin!" Bangchan rushed over, seeing his friend face down on the floor, shivering.

All he could do was moan, hips moving gently against the ground, finding some friction.

"Seungmin, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Bangchan grabbed at his shoulders, trying to flip him over. Seungmin felt the fire focus where Chan grabbed him, moaning even louder.

Once flipped, Chan saw his younger members state. No longer a tent, but a full on boner in his shorts, straining against the material. Eyes glossy, tears threatening to pour from them, and mouth open, panting moans out, his braces on full display, covered in drool.

"C-Channie-" was all Seungmin could get out before grabbing his hand, and whimpered, closing his eyes.

Seungmin was so embarrassed, but couldn't stop himself.

"He-heat..." He breathed, making Chan freeze.

Chan had always found it odd that Seungmin resembled a puppy more than his family, but his sister once hinted to him that he isn't completely human. After Seungmin said that word, all of it was confirmed.

"Your...heat? Do you need me to call someone? Or..." Chan didn't know how to deal with a heat. Or anything to do with hybrids.

He didn't want to do anything he wasn't supposed to.

"Ah- please- help Channie hyung-" Seungmins back was arching off the floor now, whimpering.

Chan thought for a moment, then stood, fighting the death grip that Seungmin had on his hand. Ignoring the pleading from him, Chan walked to the entrance of their room, closing the door. He wasn't going to leave Seungmin like this.

Walking back to the moaning boy, he used his arms to lift him bridal style, making the boy yelp. Slowly but firmly, Chan placed him safely back in his twin bed, taking a seat next to him.

"Help.." Seungmins tongue poked out, licking his dry lips.

"How do I help you, Min?" Chan wanted to help, but how? He gave Seungmin his arm, letting him guide it to use.

Seungmin grasped it quickly, moving his hips to meet his wrist, grinding against it. It surprised Chan, being used in such a way by someone he saw as a younger brother, but it didn't upset him. It excited him.

Seungmin gasped, letting tears slip as he finally had some relief to the growing pain forming in his cock.

Chan watched, mesmerized by the sight. He never would have guessed Seungmin could be this way.

Whimpering turning into moans, Seungmin grinded harder, egging Chan on.

"Seungmin, I have an idea. Can I touch you?" He asked, wanting to help.

"Please! Just make it go away-" he said, turning his face into the pillow.

Chan nodded, pulling his arm from Seungmin, earning a sob in response. But Chan quickly moved his hand, grabbing his bulge roughly, earning a loud moan. Rubbing, and grabbing, trying his best to turn the pain into pleasure.

Seungmins panting proved that he was doing good. He rubbed faster, seeing the tears in Mins eyes.

Getting bolder, he slipped his hand under the waistband, coming skin to skin with his cock, and Seungmins back arched for the second time, moaning, perhaps, too loud.

"Shh.. It's okay, Minnie-" Chan coaxed, trying to quiet him.

Chan felt him twitch at the nickname, making him grin. He picked up the pace, noticing Seungmins sounds became louder, his breathing more erratic. His hips rutting up, trying to reach his release.

"Ch-Channie!! I'm cumming!" Was all Seungmin could say before opening his jaws in a silent scream, painting Chan's hand white.

Chan removed his hand after helping the younger come down from his high, licking it clean, making seungmin blush.

"Are you feeling alright, Seungmin?" Chan asked, pulling the blankets over him.

"I'm so sorry, Chan. I thought I couldn't have a heat since-" Seungmin blinked at him, embarrassed deeply.

"Don't worry about that, Min. Its natural. I just hope I did it right. I don't know anything about hybrids," Chan smiled softly at him, hoping to comfort him. "You know I have to tell the guys right?"

"Wait, why?" Seungmin sat up, causing Chan to push him back down.

"Relax, Min. If this happens again... The heat, and I'm not there, but someone else is, they are going to have to help you. Its to keep you safe," Chan said, trying to sound reasonable.

Seungmin was already panting again, but out of panic. Fear of being rejected by his members. Four years, and this has never been an issue, so why now?

"But, what if it freaks them out Chan? Wat if they don't want to be near me? I-" Chan quieted him with a hand on his jaw.

"We're your friends, Seung. They'll be okay, I promise. And so will you."

"Promise?" Seungmin flashed his puppy eyes to Chan, making him swoon.

"I promise, puppy."

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: depiction of drug use (❄️) mdni

Chapter One

"Butcher's dead."

"Stop it," I snapped, turning to face the cracked TV in the basement of the pawn shop, our new home for the time being. "He's not fucking dead."

"Yeah, then where is he?" MM pressed. "I've known that motherfucker for a long ass time, and he would never abandon his team unless it's because he's dead."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," I said under my breath, crossing my arms and trying to focus on a re-run of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

MM shook his head, standing from the couch where I was seated. "Face it, kid. He's not coming back. One of the many people he's managed to piss off probably put a bullet through his head."

I physically bit my tongue to stop myself from blowing up at MM. He didn't deserve to be yelled at when he was just trying to be realistic. Because that's what he was at his core: realistic and logistic, and I would be lying if I said our chaotic group didn't benefit from having someone like him around. But that didn't make his realism any easier to swallow.

When I failed to answer him, MM sighed before grabbing his leather jacket and jogging up the stairs. A moment later, the door to the pawn shop opened and closed with the ring of a bell.

"What was that about?" Hughie asked, tentatively exiting his room.

"Nothing," I mumbled. "Just MM trying to convince me that Butcher's body is rotting in an alley somewhere in the tri-state area."

"Yeah. He gave me the same spiel this morning," Hughie replied, coming to perch beside me on the sofa. Kim had begun to beat Kourtney relentlessly with her designer purse, and we focused on the fight that we had watched countless times by now.

"Don't be fucking rude," we sang in time with Kim as she continued to berate her older sister physically and verbally.

"Watching this show makes me glad I didn't have any siblings," Hughie declared as he propped his feet up on the coffee table when the reality show bled annoyingly into a commercial break.

"You and me both," I replied. "Although, I don't think all siblings are like that. Kim is just special."

Hughie snorted before we fell silent for a few moments. I broke the spell by asking. "Do you think if I got a nose job, I could get on a reality show like that and make billions of dollars?"

"And what show would that be? The Real Felons of New York?"

"Exactly. And then it would be me hitting some other poor bastard with my purse. But it would probably be from Target, not Gucci, so it would hurt a lot less with it being faux leather and all."

"Mhm, everyone knows it's real leather that leaves bruises."

I turned to Hughie and cracked a smile—my first one in weeks since Butcher's disappearance. But it didn't last long as I let out a long breath, still looking at my friend. "Where do you think he is, Hugh?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he answered solemnly.

"Do you really think Butcher just abandoned us?" I prodded as I turned to face him, bringing my knees to my chest.

"I don't want to believe that, Jo. But do you remember how he left us on the side of the road? He just drove off without looking back, so is it really so crazy to assume that he'd eventually abandon all of us?"

"But it's Butcher. He was our leader. What kind of leader would forsake his team?"

"I think you need to brush up on some history, Mademoiselle."

Hughie and I swilevled our heads to see our French friend as he descended the last few steps of the pawn shop basement with several bags in tow.

"I come bearing gifts," Frenchie announced before dropping his belongings on the small armchair by the couch. "A friend of mine works at the supermarket down the street, and he let me sneak in the back and steal a few items from their delivery truck."

"Thank God. I was getting real sick of Skittles from the vending machine upstairs," Hughie professed as he riffled through the bags of produce and frozen dinners.

"Really?" I inquired with a raised brow. "Is it because you stole mine all the time?"

"Only the yellow ones!" Hughie shot back, defending himself.

"Which is the worst flavor by far. Honestly, Hugh. You have no taste."

"Yes, I do. It's just very acquired."

"Ok, Buddy. Sure it is," I snickered, gazing back at the TV as Kim appeared once again, this time yelling at a different family member.

༺༻

"C'mon, just one more line," Brandon urged, pushing the stool closer to me that was balancing a tray filled with a hefty amount of coke.

"No," I said, running a hand down the side of my face to wipe away the sheen of sweat that covered my skin. "I'm already crashing. Besides, I need to get back to base. If I'm gone for too long, the others will start to panic."

Brandon casually snorted another row before wiping his nose vigorously. "You mean the rest of your team?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, which was much to his confusion.

"Why are you guys still together? I thought your boss left town."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? We're the most wanted criminals in the country. It's not like we can return to our everyday lives as if nothing ever happened."

Brandon processed my words as he massaged his jaw, which had begun to tremble. "I guess that makes sense."

I grunted an unintelligible noise as I stood from his floor, which was covered in brown, fraying carpet. My stomach flipped, and I placed a hand over my heart as I felt it beat much quicker than usual. I could already tell that this comedown wasn't going to be fun.

"Text me when you get back, yeah? I want to make sure you're not arrested on your way home. It would be pretty shitty to get sent to prison when you're coked out of your mind."

"That's for sure," I murmured as I moved towards his door, which was decorated with old bullet holes. Brandon's latest apartment was nothing short of dilapidated, and its seedy appearance motivated guests to leave as soon as they arrived. "Will you be around this weekend?"

"Nope. I got a deal down in Pennsylvania. Thirty pounds of weed for half a million," Brandon replied as he began creating random shapes from what was left of the white power.

I stared at him for a moment before shaking my head. "Alright, well, I guess I'll see you whenever you get back."

Brandon's only reply was the sound of him snorting his snow, and I exited his apartment without another word.

I wasn't looking forward to the forty-minute walk home. It was mid-November here in New York City, and the freezing temperatures made any outdoor activity downright painful. But it was my fault for venturing out in the first place. I just couldn't bear to sit in that dingy basement with vivid thoughts of Butcher's assumed demise running through my head anymore. Each time I pictured someone blowing his brains out, it got more and more believable, and I refused to acknowledge the fact that MM might be correct and Butcher might be gone.

Tiny flakes of snow dusted the top of my head, and I drew my thin jacket tighter around my body, desperate for any source of warmth. My shoulders rose to my ears, and I bowed my head, footing it quickly in the direction of the pawn shop. All I could think about was curling up with our small space heater and watching more shitty reality television on the sofa that was definitely infested with bed bugs.

My mind grew fuzzy, and the noticeable shake of my fingers made me curse myself for not taking it easier with Brandon earlier. My eyes darted around the empty streets as paranoia took over, and I regretted not bringing my handheld with me.

If it weren't for my fragile emotional state, I wouldn't've done so many lines. But my need to bury my feelings under a blanket of drugs was too strong for me to deny, and now here I was, coming down from an intense high in the middle of Chinatown at two am.

I supposed that's what I got for falling in love with Billy Butcher.

But could you call it love? In the past three months, I had begun to doubt everything I had ever felt for the man. Sure, I'd had a massive crush on him ever since he'd found me on the street, selling drugs, and recruited me for his team. We then proceeded to harmlessly flirt for the next four months before finally sleeping together one night. Then everything with The Seven went to shit the following day, and I never saw him again. So, was it love? I guess I'd never know.

The vibration of my pocketed phone grabbed my attention, but I ignored it as I sank my teeth into my lower lip and trudged on. It was most likely one of the guys, but according to my loose calculations, I should be home in less than ten minutes. So I'd see them soon enough. Also, I needed these next ten minutes to sober up as much as possible. MM had made it quite clear that he disapproved of my "habits," as he liked to call them, and I wasn't in the mood for another lecture about how crack was going to put me in an early grave.

As I rounded the corner of the pawn shop, I stopped to pull the hood of my jacket up to cover my frizzy, tangled hair and pinch my cheeks so I wouldn't look so damn pale.

After entering the crummy establishment, I reluctantly walked down the stairs, and I heard a debate that was ensuing in the dimly lit basement.

"Raynor is not going to hand us over. She's on the same side as we are," Hughie was saying.

"Side?" argued MM. "She's the top fucking dog at the CIA. She's up the government's ass. The same government, mind you, that's responsible for naming us wanted criminals."

"That was Vought, not the government."

I trailed my eyes on my scuffed-up boots as I tried to make a run for my room unnoticed. But my cover was blown when MM spotted me.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

I raised my gaze, preparing the lie I was going to feed him, but it got stuck in my throat when I saw who he was standing beside.

Butcher. Looking perfectly healthy. Without a single bruise or a speck of blood on him. In one of his signature Hawaiian shirts, he looked like he'd just gotten back from a vacation in the tropics.

My heart slammed against my chest, but it wasn't because of the coke this time. It had everything to do with the burly man who towered over me with deep, hazel eyes that made my green ones well with anguished memories.

"That's it, love. Come all over my cock for me."

Butcher's hot breath fanned over my flesh, raising goosebumps as his lips trailed down my neck, licking and sucking as he marked me in the most depraved way.

I clenched around him as I gushed all over his thick length, screaming his name-

I jolted back to reality and clamped my mouth shut, which was hanging open as I panted, and forced my eyes to settle on MM.

"Out," I said curtly.

I glanced at Frenchie, who stood a few feet from me by Kimiko, and he turned away before discreetly wiping his nose, signaling me to do the same. Thankful for his help, I traced a finger under my nostrils, feeling the remnants of the dust that I had carelessly left behind.

I tried to play it off, but Butcher's hawk-like gaze had caught every movement, and I fixed him with an indifferent stare. So what if he found out about the earlier events of my evening? It's not like he was going to pull every statistic on the internet regarding females under the age of thirty dying of a cocaine overdose and then formulate them into a PowerPoint presentation because, thankfully, he wasn't Marvin Milk.

"Well, when you were 'out,' did you forget how to answer your phone? You know the rules about staying in contact when we're separated," MM berated me.

"Sorry," I apologized in the same tone.

With disappointment written all over his face, MM shook his head before looking back at Hughie, who was leaning against the arm of the sofa. I shuffled over to sit beside him and waited for the heated conversation to continue. All the while, I avoided Butcher and the way his eyes burned into the side of my head, no doubt judging my disheveled appearance.

"Look, all I'm saying," Hughie expressed with crossed arms. "Is that Reignor is our only shot we have left at taking down Vought. If we can just get her a sample of Compound V, then it would finally be in the right person's hands."

"Should we really trust one of Monsieur Charcuter’s scorned lovers?" Frenchie asked. "A scorned woman is a vengeful woman."

"If I may," Butcher interjected, his cockney accent shining through, "'Lover' is a rather strong word to describe what we was doin’, which was havin’ a good fuck in a few bar bathrooms."

Everyone groaned before MM got the conversation back on track.

"Fine. All those in favor of scheduling a meeting with Raynor?"

Hughie, Frenchie, Kimiko, Butcher, and I raised our hands.

"Don't bother askin’ who's opposed. You're all alone there, mate," Butcher smirked at his second in command before turning to the rest of us. "Right, first thing tomorrow, I will call Susan up and arrange a meetin’. In the meantime, you twats better get a good night's sleep cuz now that Daddy's home, you're all gonna be workin’ your arses off."

I refrained from rolling my eyes as Butcher continued, holding up his duffel bag. "Now, which one's my room?"

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abandoned masterlist

[everythingmp3]

adult Van taking care of you when you’re not doing well - headcanons

(physically + mentally)

some nsfw mentions here and there, other than that this is just what I imagine her to be like as a caring partner! kind of a continuation of my gf headcanons for her <3

physically:

she is usually not a clingy person - she prefers you to do the clinging - but whenever you are sick, that energy switches completely and she refuses to leave your side

when you’re not fully sick yet but already feel a bit off, you sometimes try to hide it from her so she doesn’t worry, but she’s way too in tune with you, she notices it immediately - when you rub your temples or let out a pained groan - and doesn’t let you pretend it’s fine

your body is sacred to her. she might come off as chill and nonchalant to others, but she is very devoted to you, which includes the careful way she handles your body, so that only intensifies when you’re sick! (she’ll draw baths for you, will put on your lotion for you when you’re too tired, will put a fresh cold towel on your head when you’re feverish, etc.)

during the first few days when your illness is at its worst she keeps the store fully closed to stay in bed with you - then when you are feeling a bit better but still aren’t fully recovered yet, she opens the store again but comes upstairs to check up on you every half hour or so (you tease her a bit sometimes by saying things like “yeah, still alive” when she overdoes it)

you haven’t fully moved in with her yet but when you’re sick she insists upon you staying at her place until you’re better again! regardless of whether it’s two days or ten days, she will not let you sleep alone in that state, no chance, you’re moving in temporarily

she is NOT a home remedy person, whatsoever. she makes you tea of course but she wants you to get better as fast and as painlessly as possible, so she turns into a nurse whenever you’re sick. she reminds you when to take which pills, pays attention to your pain level and always has the philosophy of "we have modern medicine for a reason, we will fucking use it" (19 months out in the wilderness without it gave her a lifelong appreciation I think)

she doesn’t love to cook but when you’re sick she always buys fresh ingredients to make you a nice veggie soup, exactly the way you like it (partially because she loves watching you eat things she made when you’re trying to regain your strength, makes her feel useful)

she usually has very strong preferences about the films you two watch together, but! that flies out of the window when you’re sick - she will put on your favorite films and keep her usual comments to herself (she’s too busy stroking your hair and looking down at how you’re laying your head in her lap anyway)

she uses humor to make you feel better, for sure! Van always offers you the exact kind of jokes that get tired but genuine laughs out of you, even when you’re aching and exhausted, she knows exactly how to lighten up the mood without overdoing it! you’re always grateful for her skilled way of taking your mind off the pain for a few minutes

for example: when you feel self-conscious about looking unappealing to her in that sick state, she makes a point of jokingly coming onto you really strong, gently feeling you up and saying “you always look hot to me, I’m really restraining myself, you know. don’t wanna hurt your frail body but I’d do whatever you want right now”

you like to tease her a bit about your age difference by saying stuff like “you’d have been a good mom, you know” when she does your laundry or the other chores you can’t do when you’re sick, which earns you a look of disgust and a definitive “okay easy on the incest jokes and absolutely not. I enjoy doing this for you because you’re hot, not because I’m maternal”

she hates to see you suffer, of course, but.. selfishly she does love the domesticity that you share when you have to abandon school/work for a whole week and you two spend nearly every waking moment together! she’s a homebody and loves snuggling and napping together during the day, the lazy, soft kind of intimacy that a sickness will bring out

another thing that she loves when you’re under the weather, is how theatrical you get with your expression of affection. you will lay on the couch and watch her while she’s busy in the kitchen, admiring her and saying things out of nowhere like "you’re so beautiful. I’m so lucky", clearly a bit dazed from lack of sleep, and it always makes her feel warm and makes her smile, when you’re all sweet and vulnerable

when it gets too bad she will take you to the doctor or ER, it doesn’t matter how much you protest or insist that you’re okay, she does not play about your health even though she doesn’t take great care of her own at times…

the people you interact with daily (friends/colleagues/classmates) know about your relationship but you definitely haven’t told your parents.. so when you get a call from one of them when you’re sick and they ask if you’re fine, you lie and say that a “friend” is taking care of you, which makes her tease you when you hang up like “friend. interesting. is this where you tell me that you fuck your friends?.” it does turn her a on a bit, to be a secret

she’s not a very sappy person but when you’re on her bed, face down and letting out intense sounds of pain because it’s that bad, her voice turns all soft and high-pitched and she loses all of her usual cool, cooing things like “hey it’s okay, shh, I’m right here” and “I know baby, I know”, while trying her best to guide you through the worst of it

Van is the type to watch you sleep. she’ll just lay down next to you on the bed and look at you in silence for a few minutes while you’re taking a nap (she definitely traces your facial features when you’re fully asleep and won’t be woken up by it, she’s tender as fuck in secret)

it definitely happened a few times that she went to the bathroom to cry when you weren’t doing well because she didn’t want you to pity her when you were the one in pain - it just really gets to her because she cares for you so deeply and sometimes gets flashbacks from everyone starving/hurting in the wilderness, so she has to remind herself that you’re just dealing with a regular illness, that you’re okay, that she won’t lose you.

she doesn’t want you to shower on your own when you’re too weak to stand properly - she’s scared of you slipping and falling - so you always shower together on those days <3

when you miss being intimate with her after a few days of being sick, she tries to find ways to touch you that won’t be too hard on your body, like kissing you all over, having you lay down and relax while she caresses you

if you’re feeling a bit better already, she will gently give you head or jerk you off, slower and softer than usual, to help you release some tension, and it’s somehow a particular kind of turn-on, to be pleased when you’re weak and a bit delirious

she knows you find her voice soothing, so she will find something to read to you while you fall asleep, either from a book you’ve been meaning to finish or one of her own favorites

she makes you sleep on her chest and falls asleep holding you, there is no way around it when you’re sick, she needs to feel you as close as possible to make sure that you’re warm and comfortable <3

mentally:

Van might come off as unserious at times but! with a partner she is definitely eager to drop that act and to connect on a very deep level, she wants to be trusted with your fears and worries (she hides her soft core well but not with the person she loves)

when you’re really going through something, she always makes a point of sitting you down and really listening with intent, holding your hands and giving you reassuring nods. patience is one of her strong suits for sure!

the first few times you cried in front of her she was slightly overwhelmed by how much it affected her and almost teared up herself :( but over time she got better at staying calm and just letting you get it all out while she whispers sweet things and rubs your back, not a care in the world whether it takes five minutes or an hour for you to stop tearing up

she wouldn’t admit this but her being considerably older than you definitely makes her feel an urgent sense of protectiveness, to her it’s a given that it’s her job to make sure you feel safe, as someone who already has that tough period of early adulthood behind them

late night drives. whenever she senses that you’ve been stuck in the house for too long and can’t stop thinking about what´s bothering you, she drags you out for a drive to a gas-station to get some drinks and snacks and it always manages to get your spirits up, you always come back with a brighter and livelier expression on your face

she has a very good instinct for when you need space and when you need comfort. sometimes, she lets you sleep in her bed while she is downstairs working, because she knows you need to be left alone for an afternoon; other times she can tell that you’re fragile and need physical closeness to feel better, so she makes you lay on the couch with her, or makes you take a shower before she gives you a massage <3

Van always tells you reassuring things like “it’s okay to not see the positives right now, sometimes everything just feels awful, I know, but tomorrow things will already look very different, I promise, baby” - she never does cheap consolation, ever, what she says is always realistic and actually helpful

she believes that sometimes simple things can go a long way! so instead of giving you big motivational speeches when you’re a bit depressed, she’ll just take you out for a really good meal and desert, followed by a little visit at whichever store you like (getting you a nice scented candle or a book or a new shirt) and that usually does the trick of getting your mind back into the present moment

she had a good amount of practice with dealing with bad moods when she was your age and depressed as hell, so she’s glad she can use some strategies she learned to help you a bit

Van is always a steady presence in your life when everything feels chaotic because she learned early on how to navigate the toughest situations imaginable, so you often end up showering her in affection whenever she manages to be perfect at soothing you after a stressful event, and she loves it: knowing that the shit she went through might not have been for nothing after all

because of the crash and her traumatic home-life before that, you noticed very early on that nothing you could tell her would ever shock her or make you feel judged by her, which is a uniquely freeing thing about being with her

she sometimes jokes about how therapy didn’t work out for her at all.. and that she’s a horrible person to ask about her opinion all that because she’s generally very suspicious of psychiatry, she doesn’t trust therapists one bit (and she despises the whole self-help scene) but she’ll let you make up your own mind of course

sometimes she can tell that you’re a bit down but don’t wanna make it a big deal, so she just pulls you in a for a hug or nudges you lovingly and says “what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”, which makes you suppress a grin and admit that you’re in fact frustrated by something (sometimes it ends in her straight up offering to give you head, so you can relax and stop thinking and more often than not it works)

similar as with physical health: she neglects her own issues at times and thinks “whatever I’ll figure it out” but yours are deeply serious to her! regardless of how minor they seem to you. when you say something like “I don’t even know why I’m upset, it’s not that deep” she always disagrees like “if you’re hurt by it then it is that deep, absolutely”

in general she’s definitely a “do as I say, not as I do” type - she doesn’t always follow her own advice and you tease her about it at times by echoing her own advice to her when she’s the one in need of some support

she was on her own for a bit too long before you, so she truly never feels burdened by anything you require help with, she’s just glad to share her life with someone she loves, both the highs and the lows

she’s very chill and never makes a tough situation worse by urging you to do a million different things to feel better - Van never erratically tries to “fix” what’s bothering you because she knows that some things can’t magically be fixed, which makes you feel at ease: the fact that she’s not delusional about what she can and can’t help you with, that sometimes a shoulder to lean on is more than enough to feel better!

bonus headcanons for when you’re both just not feeling it:

over time you developed a basic formula of take-out from your favorite spot + something playing on the tv in the background + bitching to each other about your problems which is safe to lift your spirits every time you both need to vent and feel better after a stressful week! (often followed by a few drinks or some ice-cream or both)

when you’re both in a bad mood you’ll text each other throughout the day and try to cheer each other up with little jokes or exaggerated intense sexting

some of the best sex happens whenever you both had a long day and feel annoyed by everyone because when you come back to her place those nights it is always a shared feeling of "god I am so fucking glad to have you back and just forget about everything else". you will go for hours with breaks in between, until both of you are in a good mood again, so that is the one upside when you are both going through it at the same time!

in general you both make each other feel capable of handling any kind of pain or stress because you know the other person is only one drive or phone call away <3

[2012wannabe]

silent beginnings 7

wc: 1415

cw/tw: discussions of past pregnancy and stillborn, pregnancy

a/n: thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed it and I would to hear any feedback anyone has

Abby pulls into the driveway and takes you upstairs. Once you're upstairs, Abby leads you into the bedroom and gently guides you to sit down on the bed. She sits down next to you, still holding you close as she speaks.

"Are you tired? Do you want to try and get some sleep?"

“I'm fine. I didn't do that much today.” Abby nods, her expression softening as she hears your response.

"Okay...do you just want to relax then? We could watch a movie or something, if you want."

“I don't know what I want.” Abby sighs softly as she hears your uncertainty, her heart still aching for you. She reaches out and gently takes your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand comfortingly.

"That's okay, you don't have to know right now. We can just sit here for a while, if that's what you want."

“Cuddle with me?” You ask laying down. Abby smiles softly as she hears your request, her expression full of love for you. She lays down next to you and opens her arms, gently pulling you against her and holding you close.

"Of course, love."

“It's not just about having a baby.” You admit quietly. Abby's expression turns a bit more serious at your words, sensing that there's more to what you're saying. She continues holding you close, rubbing her hand up and down your back as she responds quietly.

"What do you mean? What else is it about?"

“I loved being pregnant. Despite how constantly sick I was I loved it.”

Abby's heart aches even more as she hears you say that. She knows how much you've always wanted to be a mother,

"I know you did. I remember how much you loved feeling our baby kicking and moving inside you. I remember how your eyes would light up every time you felt them. I remember how excited you were when you started showing."

“Not that any other relationships are less important but the connection you have when you feel your baby inside you, it's like nothing I've ever experienced.” Abby nods, her expression full of sorrow and empathy.

"I can imagine. Even just touching your stomach and feeling her kick was... otherworldly."

“Yeah. I did and do secretly wish I get gave a good pregnancy though. You saw how sick and in pain I was. I hated talking to other moms because all they talked about was how amazing their pregnancy was and how they glowed meanwhile I could keep so little food down I weighed less with a baby than without for a while.”

"I know. I remember...you were so miserable the entire pregnancy, and it broke my heart to see you like that. You looked so tired and sick all the time."

“I always told myself it would be worth it when I got to meet our bundle of joy. But then we didn't.” Abby's eyes fill with tears as she hears you say that. She remembers the same thing, how you always said it would be worth it once you held our baby for the first time. But instead of that moment of joy, the baby never made it. Abby takes a deep breath, still holding you close and rubbing your back gently. She's quiet for a moment, her heart breaking for you as she remembers the pain you went through.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that...no one should have to go through that kind of pain, both physically and emotionally."

“It is what it is.” Abby's expression softens as she hears your words. She knows you're trying to brush off the pain and suffering you endured, but it's impossible for her to not feel your pain too.

“I know it is. But it doesn't make it any easier. It's not fair that you had to go through all of that, and it breaks my heart seeing you in so much pain." You smile at her and Abby smiles softly back at you, her heart swelling a little bit at the sight of your smile, despite the situation. She gently reaches out and brushes some hair out of your face, looking at you lovingly.

"You're so strong, you know that? You've been through so much, and you're still here, still smiling."

“Thanks.”

Nearly 5 months later, Abby is woken up by the sound of you running to the bathroom, a worried look on her face. She gets up quickly, following you into the bathroom and immediately going to your side. She stands behind you as you vomit, holding your hair back for you and rubbing your back gently. You pull away from the toilet gasping,

“Do you realize what this could mean??”

Abby's eyes widen with realization, her expression filled with a mix of hope and excitement as she takes in the situation.

"Oh my god... you're throwing up? Are you-?" She trails off, unable to finish her sentence, the implication hanging in the air between them.

“I hope so!” Abby's heart is racing, her mind already swirling with the possibility.

"We have to take a test, to make sure. Il run out and get one right now."

“I already have 3.”

Abby's eyes widen again and she takes a deep breath, her hands trembling with anticipation and excitement.

"You do? Can you take one now? This minute?"

“Let me pee.” Abby nods, a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through her body.

"Okay, go pee. I'll be right here waiting." She waits in the bathroom for you and you laugh.

“You're gonna watch me piss?”

Abby blushes a little embarrassed, realizing how weird that probably sounds.

"I...yeah, I guess I am. Sorry, maybe that's kind of weird. I just want to see the test ASAP and- oh god, I'm being weird again, aren't I?"

“It's adorable.” She blushes even more, her cheeks turning red from the compliment.

"Shut up. I'm getting weird about it again, aren't I? I just...I want to know. So bad. I'm excited."

“Me too, baby me too.” You say weirdly calm. Abby watches you, her own heartbeat racing so fast it feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest.

“You’re handling this so well, I’m shaking in anticipation but you’re so calm. How are you so calm? I feel like I’m about to explode!”

“I’m just… I need to see three positive tests first before I can freak out.” She nods understanding,

“Okay… just hurry up please. I need to know. I don’t think I can stand the suspense anymore.” You place the tests on the counter,

“Now we just have to wait…” You trail off watching the tests. 10 of the longest, most agonizing minutes you think you’ve ever experienced go by and you’re shaking holding the box. Abby stands beside you, her body tense with anticipation as she watches you hold the tests in the box.

"Are you ready? Are we ready?" she asked, her voice quivering slightly. She reaches out to take the box from you, her hands shaking slightly. You take the tests out to reveal 3 positive tests. Abby's eyes widen as she looks at the three positive tests in your hands, her heart racing faster than ever before. She's speechless for a moment, her eyes filling with shock and awe. She reaches out to take one of the tests, just to make sure she's not seeing things.

"Oh my god... they're positive...They're positive. You're pregnant?"

“I'm pregnant!” You start to cry. Abby tears up with joy, her eyes welling up with happy tears as she hears the confirmation from you.

"Oh my god...you're pregnant. We're going to have a baby..." She pulls you into a tight hug, her arms around you like a vice, holding you as close to her as possible.

“I'm so excited!” You say starting to cry as well. Abby holds you tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks as she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck.

"Me too, baby...l can't even believe it.

I can't believe we're going to have a baby. I'm so happy."

“We're gonna get our family.” Abby nods, her heart swelling with happiness and emotion as she holds you close to her. She pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours as she speaks, her voice filled with tenderness and love.

"Yes, we're going to get our family. We're going to have a baby, and we're going to be a family. I can't wait."

[furiousgoldfish]

How do you continue to function when you're so burnout for decades long it paralyzed you from working properly? Ngl my life is a whole mess after 10 years trying to survive from my abuser. and I still don't know how to get back on my feet again without having a mental breakdown several times a week and feeling suicidal on top of it

and I'm too ashamed to talk about it to people, i did talk, they were understanding at first, but that doesn't stay long. You can only cry and whine once, after that, you're burdening them with your loads.

They'd say you continue fighting no matter what still and I do, fight still everyday in my life even if it's getting up from bed. But what I can't do is going to work, I just can't, it doesn’t help that i experience abuse too from the place i work at, had to quit abruptly at one occasion after the boss got physical with me

In this survival state, I mostly earned money from freelance job (and obviously it's not enough)

Everyone I'm close to is very frustrated with me because I didn't seem to be healed even though it's been this long. What I learned from it is that not to bring up my pain ever again and have to pretend I'm doing fine because that's what my family and friends can tolerate. That kind of isolation kills me, as if they didn't consider that i want to be healed too. no one else wants to survive my trauma more than me. I just don't know how and I can't see how it's possible.

Yeah I relate to this! It is very scary to be expected to be able to work and live independently while you're barely holding it together, unable to get up from bed.

I can only share my experience of this, and maybe it's not that helpful, but I want you to know that it can get better, and that people are wrong for expecting you to suddenly be okay after the experience of torturous abuse.

When I escaped, I had enough money from freelancing saved up so I could just rest for a few years (it was stressful, being scared the money would run out), but I was able to indulge fully in resting and not getting up when I didn't want to. I spent years just laying in bed and trying to work trough the trauma and get the feelings of pain and terror out, and it worked to some extent, I started feeling a little less tired after three years!

I started working very infrequently, odd little jobs, helping neighbours for a bit of money, helping the disabled people or cleaning when I could, and it would just be a few hours of work, and I'd be completely drained after that. But again, giving myself plenty of space and time to rest helped me a lot, and then later working on my osdd also helped me restore some of the energy.

I can work only 2-3 days a week now, for a few hours, and it's enough to survive in poverty, if I don't buy anything, so this is what I do. I'm lucky that I'm able to share my bills and rent with roommates and make my own food, and that I'm so used to poverty it doesn't specifically bother me. I still get sad sometimes that I can't have an actual real job and live more safely, but I'm alive, I'm not tormented, and I spend a lot of time resting, and just tell people 'I'm sick' if they ask questions.

I think freelancing, doing a few hours of work infrequently or just slowly letting yourself recover until you can do something for a bit worked great for me, but I also understand it's not something that will work for anyone. If you're stuck not being able to save up, or work enough that you could pay even a part of your rent, that feels debilitating and scary, it doesn't let you plan for the future, it doesn't feel like you can even complain to people as they're unwilling to listen. I am so sorry for what you're going trough, it's legitimately a bad situation, and it's only natural for you to struggle like this after so much abuse. I believe you need to have as much rest as you need and if one day you get a little better, you might be able to figure it out, and if not, I hope at least people take you more seriously and understand that this is real pain, real fear of losing a future over abuse.

[embrosegraves]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤

(request) Sebastian Vettel x Reader (he/they) Kids: Vincent/Vince (4) and Miriam/Mimi (5 months)

Warnings: Mentions of Reader not having a good childhood, mentions of Bad Mental Health™, self-doubt from reader, badly written angst?

It had been an unbelievable few years for the Vettel household. First Sebastian married the love of his life and they moved to a farm in Switzerland. They spent three years together before they adopted an energetic 2-year-old boy named Vincent. They were a perfect family of three. Sebastian retired from Formula One when Vince was 3 and a year later they found themselves at home with a now 4-year-old son and a newly adopted 5-month-old baby girl, Miriam.  

It was everything Seb could’ve asked for. He had a husband and two gorgeous children, he had never been more satisfied with anything in his life. 

Sebastian was so in love with his life that his heart shattered when he saw his life partner struggling. Y/n put up a good show in front of the children, but Sebastian and Y/n had been together for close to 9 years. Not to mention that they had known each other for 13 years. All that to say, Sebastian basically knew them better than themself. So he knew that while Y/n was outwardly happy and excited, their mind was in the trenches between anxiety and doubt. 

Seb could see that he was struggling with something and it physically pained him to not know how to help. Y/n was the single most important thing in his life. Every fibre of his being was made to love him and to make him feel happy and safe. He had to try something to help.

Prior to getting together with Seb, Y/n had explained vaguely what it had been like growing up for them. How they had to basically raise themself from a very early age. The sad fact was, Y/n had never had a consistent flow of positive affirmation or physical affection until finding Sebastian. Growing up both things had been a taboo. Meeting Sebastian had made Y/n determined to break the generational cycle before it had time to fully begin. Sometimes that mindset was hard to keep. Especially when asked a seemingly innocent question from a totally clueless 4-year-old. 

Vince hadn’t even asked Y/n the question, but he had overheard the small boy ask Sebastian. 

“How much am I loved?”

Those five words had sent Y/n into a silent spiral for days. Y/n hadn’t bothered to stick around to hear Sebastian answer the question. Instead, they tried as best they could to continue the day as normal. Why did Vince ask that, of all questions? Y/n was aware that children were always curious about everything, and they knew that it was more than likely just a child’s healthy curiosity. But curiosity had to start somewhere, right? What happened for their son to ask how much he was loved. 

Had he turned into his parents? Had he, without realising, not shown or said how much he absolutely adored his child? Did he somehow do the one thing that he swore he never would? Just the thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Sitting on the couch one evening, Baby Mimi asleep in one arm while the other circled around a sleeping Vince, Y/n found themself within their mind once again. Thinking about everything they had done leading up to Vince asking that dreaded question. He couldn’t pinpoint anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing had changed in the dynamic since they had adopted their first child. Y/n blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, my loves.” Y/n whispered as they looked at their children. Their voice was choked with emotion as they spoke.

“I’m sorry I haven’t done better. I promised myself that I would be better, and it’s not just myself that I’ve let down.” Y/n sniffled. “I said, years ago, that I would never become the people that raised me. That I would stop the cycle before it could begin, but clearly I’ve failed.” 

Sebastian had stopped just before the doorway to the living room, having heard his husband speaking to the no doubt sleeping children. 

“I wish that I could take back every moment you ever doubted my love for you. Prove that I am not my parents and that you are the most important parts of my life. I never want for you to feel how I did as a child.” 

Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore. He walked into the room, gently picked up his son and sat down next to Y/n. Keeping an arm around Vince, he used his free arm to wrap around his partner and pull them close to him. 

Sebastian pressed a lingering kiss to Y/n temple and whispered to him. “They do not doubt your love for them, Blume. I promise you.”

“How would you know that? I have failed as a parent if my child has to ask if he is loved.” Y/n took a shuddering breath, trying to stop themself from bawling their eyes out. 

“I know because I asked. Vince knows how much you love him, he knows how much I love him and I have no doubt in my mind that Mimi also knows how much we love her.”

“Papa, how much am I loved?” 

Sebastian looked at the 4-year-old in his arms, “Why do you ask?” 

“Baba always says that he loves you to the moon. And then you always say that you love Baba for all the stars.” 

“We do say that, yes.” Sebastian could help but smile at his son. He knew that for the young boy to know the endearment he exchanged with his husband, he would’ve had to hear it often. It pleased him to know that his children were growing up surrounded by the notion that affection and openly loving someone was a good thing.

“I just wanted to know how much I was loved. Like you and Baba.”

Adjusting Vince so that he could see his face, Sebastian gave a kiss to his forehead. “Baba and I love you so much that there is nothing we could compare it to”

The boy looked at his father, “And Mimi too?” 

“Of course Mimi too. There is nothing in the whole world that Baba and I love more than the two of you.” 

“Not even your trophies? Baba says you love them a lot.” Vince said, laying his head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

“My trophies don’t even come close, Kleine.” 

Sebastian pulled his husband closer as he finished speaking. I was silent for a moment before Seb spoke up again. 

“You have not failed as a parent, and I know that you will never fail. I have seen how much our son adores you. In every language I know there are not enough words to explain how much he loves you.” 

Sebastian knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to convince his partner that they didn’t need to be upset or worried. He knew that it was hard to come back from your mind. Especially if you had been there for a while. Sebastian was determined to help his partner, no matter how long it took him. He would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant that Y/n knew how much their little family loved them. He would trade every Championship trophy in the world to show Y/n that they are nothing like the people who raised them (because they sure as shit weren’t parents). 

“I love you so much that seeing you doubt yourself hurts me. You are the best damn parent for our children and I just wish that you could see that.”

It might take me a while but I can potentially do a part 2 for this if people liked it.

but anyways, I hope everyone enjoyed <3

[abiiors]

Ross Holding the reader's belly and when his hand softly grazes he feels the baby's first kick .

writing dad!ross is always so cute 🤭❤️

the first time ross feels his brain chemistry being permanently altered is on a lazy saturday afternoon. he's refused to let you clean the house (“i can do it by myself” and “i don't want you bending and exerting yourself”) but after much arguing and lowkey threatening on your part, he relents that you can hoover a bit around the living room just as long as you're comfortable doing it.

he's also in a slight mood, he's been in a mood for a bit because all the worries of impending fatherhood have just started to dawn on him. 

you've answered plenty of late-night "what if i'm a shit father" questions with the patience of a saint but every time you see the little crease between his brows, you know what's about to come. you turn the hoover off, walk up to him and hug him from behind. the bump is still relatively small so you want to savour this for as long as it lasts.

you know he needs to be sat down and firmly told at least once a day that he’s going to be a fantastic father and you’re quite happy to do that until he starts believing it himself so that’s exactly what you do. 

you sit him down and snuggle up to him. it’s second nature to him now to immediately place his hand on your bump.

“you’re overthinking,” you point out, stern but gentle. 

“mmm.”

yep, figures. you sigh, closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder while he absentmindedly caressed your bump. it’s gentle, it’s nice. unfortunately, you’re sure you can physically hear the wheels in his head turning.  

“but what if she hates me?” 

you raise an eyebrow at him—first at the fact that you don’t know the gender yet but he’s adamant that the baby is a she. 

“ross…” you take a deep breath, fully turning to him, and grab his face in your hands. almost a perfect mirror of the way he cradles your stomach. “love… she’s not going to hate you.”

“look at you,” you continue, rubbing soothing circles on his cheek with your thumb. “you’re already so perfect to me, to both of us. sure, you make me go crazy when you hover like that—”

“hey!” he protests but you place your thumb on his lip, effecting shushing him. 

“let me finish, love. you have been perfect since day one. helping me through morning sickness and late-night cravings. making sure i never feel like i’m going through this alone. and we still have almost half the pregnancy to go through. you’re going to be a proper dad in no time! you already are, sweetheart, don’t think i’ve forgotten all the horrible dad jokes you’ve cracked this week.”

that makes him smile—a wide smile, dimples and all. one that has your insides fluttering. and fluttering some more. weirdly enough, it lasts much longer than you’re used to, weirder still, ross abruptly stops rubbing your stomach, frowning in concentration. 

“is she—” he starts, only to be interrupted by what is unmistakably a tiny kick. 

“oh my god,” you press a hand to your mouth in astonishment, smiling the widest you ever have while your baby continues to move around. 

“oh my love…” ross sniffles, instantly getting teary-eyed and bending down to kiss your stomach, only for the flutters to move right where his lips are. 

your daughter already recognising her dad’s voice. 

“see, she loves you. she already recognises you!” you laugh, still giddy from the kicks and movement, still in complete awe. 

ross finally straightens, looking at you with a knowing smile. “so you agree,” his smile has gone all coy, “you think we’re having a girl too.”

you’re about to protest until you realise how you’ve been subconsciously referring to your baby as a she for some time now. without even realising it. and now that he has pointed it out, it’s glaringly obvious.

“i do,” you smile at him again, rubbing your stomach, the spot where you last felt her move. “hello, my darling,” you speak softly and get a flutter in response. “i adore you already.”

[callmejudgement]

Winx Club Script

About Me

Age: 20

Height: 5’6

Appearance: Similar to my cr self but 100% yassifyed. Note: I have 40inch sister locs, not a buss down.

I also gave myself 20/20 vision because I’m sick of glasses.

Backstory: I am a changeling (like in Fate) who lives a normal human life on Earth. One day I suddenly wake up in Magix. While I was asleep, a wizard transported me through the Realm of Dreams to his residence in Magix City. Apparently, I'm the last living member of my planet's royal family (I am not naming the planet in my script bc I suck at names). The Wizard is an old friend of my mom's and has been searching for me for centuries because I'm the only one capable of saving our realm. I am to start at Alfea and learn to control my powers as one of the last surviving dream fairies. When I’m strong enough, we will reclaim my realm from the darkness overtaking it.

My powers: fairy of dreams + some secret power (like how Bloom has the dragon flame, I want to be special.)

My pixie: I'll let y'all know once I meet her. I want it to be a surprise!

Schools

The three major schools (Alfea, Cloud Tower, Red Fountain) are coed. I believe in male fairy/witch and female specialist rights! You also study for 5 years, like the show initially stated before changing it to 3! There isn't much to say here because I mostly like how the schools are canonically.

I am changing the average first-year age to 20, though. Why? Because I'm 20, and I don't want to age myself down to 18 or 16. Besides, people in the Magic Dimension live so much longer than humans, so why would their schooling ages be the same as Earth? (Not to mention that this is my dr and I can do what I want!)

I'm also making the schools less strict on curfew since we're older.

Speaking of which, I’m also scripting in inter-school weekend parties at Lake Roccaluce!

Specialists

This is oddly specific, but Helia is also a wizard (because his grandad is, so I feel like he should be, too).

Villain’s

I honestly want to nuke any canon villain post-season 4. Tritanus is on thin fucking ice, but Selena can stay. Acheron and them season 7 animal things need to go though (they get the most useless and forgettable villains award!).

The Trix

Let's get this out of the way first. Stormy is male in my dr! Why? Because!

Do I need to say more? Now, on to more important things. I love these baddies (even though they became pathetic as the seasons went on)! I plan for the plot to mostly follow seasons 1-3, but I want the Trix to get a redemption arc at some point. I'm not going to script out exactly when it happens, but it will happen after season 3 (assuming that event even follows the show after all the changes I've made).

I just really want to work with the Trix! I am a firm believer that the Trix are not pure evil. Maybe it's their ancestor's influence that is twisting their minds without them knowing? Or perhaps they were corrupted by the Shadow Phoenix through the Whipserian Crystals that they used in season 1? Idk, but it'll be something and after being cleansed with fairy dust, they return to normal and can continue at Cloud Tower.

The Shadow Pheonix

The show could have done so much more with this so I will make use of it instead. Speaking of the Shadow Pheonix is taboo throughout the Magic Dimension because of how fucking evil it is. Even witches don't fw it. The Shadow Phoenix created the Dark Circle (I don't like that the Wizards of the Dark Circle canonically made it), and the Phoenix is not a physical thing. It's more like a concept or energy that is recorded to have appeared as a Shadow of a Phoenix in history.

[samuwhal]

We need to change how we talk about self-help techniques.

By self-help techniques, I’m talking about: grounding, mindfulness, meditation, breathing exercises, physical activity, and--the big one--yoga. I have struggled with my mental health since I was fifteen, and just now, I am realizing how much these things can actually help. I am almost twenty-six years old, and I will have been in therapy for ten years this fall. Let me tell you, I have spent so much of that time renouncing these tools. Recently, though I’ve realized that: holy shit, they can really work...but man they are offered to struggling people in the worst possible light.

TL;DR: Just because suggestions about ways to manage mental illness are framed as “you have to try it or you want to be sick” doesn’t mean that they can’t actually work or that you are invalidating yourself by trying or being helped by them. Featuring personal anecdotes and a boat metaphor.

I know I am not alone in that the idea of these techniques and exercises just made my skin crawl. They made me feel vulnerable in a way which really scared me, they felt impossible to initiate in the moments needed most, and--ultimately--they felt incredibly diminutive. Think about it: people getting sucked into rapids will drown cursing your name if all you do is insist they have to “ride the wave.” “Fuck you.”

When I began taking anti-depressants, it was not without a fight. I’m lucky; my parents were willing and able to put me in therapy as soon as I asked. But with medication, they were concerned it was a shortcut, that I would be on pills for the rest of my life, and that the chemicals would change me and do “the work” for me, as if this was an issue of character development and not brain malfunction. Why wouldn’t I just do something relaxing when I was upset? Why wasn’t I leaning more into my spirituality? Why wasn’t I letting anything else help me?

And that’s the problem! I tried to explain that I would be able to use those techniques easier if medication brought my overall symptoms down. You wouldn’t expect me to paddle upstream against a tsunami, but I could feasibly make progress against a strong current. Even at that point, if I go over rapids, I want a fucking life jacket, not somebody with their feet firmly planted on the riverbank shouting, “Try yoga!” Though I of course continued therapy in addition to medicine, I still resisted any advice having to do with self-help because of that sentiment.

To be clear, I’m still very pro-medication and for eliminating that stigma. Really, though, when somebody is having such debilitating symptoms--emotions--that they feel like they are getting pulled underwater and gasping for air, it’s not fair that the solution could be something as effortless as breathing in while counting until it’s better. That sounds like bullshit. Mental illness physically hurts, but to outsiders, it’s all in your head, and it would be fine if only you could step back and appreciate how good you have it. If “mindfulness” works, then maybe those people are right, and that can’t be true. It hurts too much to be true.

However, I want you to know that your struggles won’t be any less legitimate if something simple actually does end up helping. I have two stories here:

1. Last year, after wanting to start for ages, I finally began exercising: just going to the gym a couple of times a week. My goal was only to feel better in my body, not really to do anything for myself mentally. I even hired a personal trainer to write work-out routines for me to follow, both to hold myself accountable (I won’t skip if I’m paying someone) and just so I wouldn’t be totally lost the second I walked in. But I have felt so many unexpected mental benefits, as well:

Getting my heart rate and breathing elevated--and continuing to exert myself through it--has kept me steadier when anxiety starts to set in. I feel more confident knowing that I can lift heavy things, run distances, and because I did something productive. I’m not stress or bored-eating, not necessarily because I’m afraid I’ll “put the calories back,” but because I’m simply more regulated. I have been sleeping better since pushing my muscles has reduced my lower back pain. I don’t procrastinate showering if I’ve just gotten back from the gym. When I sit down to schoolwork, I focus easier if I had exercised. Something something endorphins. I know I’m starting to sound like a “bro,” but the point is that these are huge benefits to exercising that just don’t get mentioned by the people crudely suggesting that it will fix your depression.

2. A couple of months ago, I was having a bad night, and the “don’t believe any negative thoughts about yourself after 10 p.m.” rule had gone out the window. I did what many of us have taught ourselves to do and asked for a lifeline: I texted my girlfriend in the same room (because vocalizing it was too hard) asking if she would come over to sit with me. I didn’t even realize I was having an anxiety attack, but she did. At first, I felt too frozen and in-pain when she asked me to sit up from clutching the fetal position. Instrumentally, though, she said that she wanted to help, but I had to help myself, too. She was throwing me a ring, but I had to swim and meet her halfway. I sat up.

She held me and led me through a “find five things in the room” exercise, and fuck me: it helped. No, I wasn’t cured. I’m still not. But this broke my self-destructive loop, and I was able to go to sleep relaxed. This was an epiphany for me. I could have provided myself this tool, this comfort, the entire ten years I’ve been dealing with this shit! Instead, I’ve just been enduring it, hoping against everything pulling me down that--instead of drowning--I’ll eventually kick the riverbed where it’s shallow enough to stand.

When self-help techniques are offered to mentally ill people, they tend to be used as a “gotcha:” you could easily be better, if only you wanted to try. To be completely fair, this isn’t always the meaning. However, it only takes a couple of those microaggressions to ensure you shut down when your therapist or a concerned loved one asks if you've tried "grounding” before.

Please, take it from me: these tools aren’t just leaky arm floats that people who never even needed to learn how to swim offer just to feel better as they watch you struggle. They are a life jacket to keep you afloat when you tip, a wider paddle to outrun the rapids, a better rudder and tiller so you can actually steer, a bailing bucket for when things get dicey, or pontoons so you won’t tip so readily. Trying self-help techniques doesn’t disclaim what you’re going through, they just might make it more bearable.

And you’re worth that.

[ilaosi]

weird question, but since ur a zombie I need some help!

okay, so I'm writing about zombies and such and the actual physical symptoms of zombism are like vague. super vague.

I was wondering what your experience was?

idk wikipedia and all them are uselessssss, and I thought asking a zombie would just be easier than going and looking for 16th century whatevers.

so, if you don't mind what was it like? what sorts of symptoms did you have?

anyway thank you for reading your awesome!!!

omg hi im a bit late but this ask makes me so happy i love talking abt this stuff !!! :D i'd like to preface by saying i experience my kintypes in a way that sounds a lot like a past life but i don't consider that to be the case, i believe my memories are from some version of me in other universes/realities.

soo my response might not be the most helpful because i don't think i experience zombism in the way most ppl think of it? i wasn't infected or anything, i died a (somewhat) natural death & the next thing i knew i was kind of unknowingly digging myself out of my grave. i don't know how or why i was resurrected, if someone else did it, if i did it myself, if it was some kind of divine intervention, no clue. in the world i remember, zombies were a known phenomenon that hadn't yet been explained by science.

living people reacted to us in a lot of different ways, some kind of worshiped us and treated us like we were chosen by the gods or otherwise special, but most just thought it was weird/gross and tried to avoid us. a few ppl wanted to get rid of us because it was "unnatural and contagious" (it couldn't actually be transmitted like a disease, in my world at least), there was even a group of ppl who denied our existence entirely. it was also pretty common for medical students to (consensually, most of the time) practice their skills on zombies, kind of like they do in this world with corpses, but we were more convenient because it was really hard to kill us and we didn't really experience much pain, plus we could heal (to an extent), and we were pretty much immune to infection & other complications/side effects. i think it was also a way of gathering information for research since there wasn't much known about us or how/why we existed.

as for the symptoms & what it felt like - i remember when i first crawled out of the dirt the main thing i noticed was that my body was completely still. my heart didn't beat, the blood didn't flow in my veins, i didn't particularly feel the need to breathe or blink. i was just as disabled in that world as i am in this one, but after i died some of my disabilities didn't really affect me anymore. i wasn't in horrible pain in the way i usually am, i just felt like all of my skin was slightly bruised and there was a dull ache all over my body but it was easy to ignore, and my bones felt,, empty? my brainfog/dissociation got a lot worse though. all of my senses felt much more dull but i definitely still had them. it took more pressure for me to feel things touching my skin, my vision was cloudy and less colorful, i couldn't really smell or taste most things other than meat, blood, decay, dirt, mildew, etc. other smells/tastes would have to be really strong/intense for me to pick up on it at all. i was dead for about 3? days before i emerged, and i was buried in winter, so decomposition hadn't totally taken over yet. i did continue to decompose after that, but eventually i figured out that keeping myself fed (primarily with non-human brain matter & insects) would stop that process and sometimes even reverse the effects of it to an extent. if i went too long without feeding or if i fed on the wrong things too often i would feel really sick and my skin would get even more flaky. sometimes huge chunks of skin or even small body parts would fall off, but they could be successfully reattached by any doctor who was willing to work with zombies.

visually/appearance wise - i was more pale and my skin had a kind of light-grey-green-ish tint to it. the parts of me that fell off and had to be reattached ended up looking more purple-pink-ish for a while, but usually they'd go back to the grey-green color eventually. the whites of my eyes were more blue & my irises were dark grey. my veins were more visible through my skin and they were a lot darker, almost black. my natural hair color is brown and before i died i had my hair dyed black, afterwards the color just never faded and my hair didn't grow anymore so it didn't change much, but the areas where my roots were showing turned grey.

i can't rly think of any other specific things to talk about but if u have more questions or if u want more clarification on something i said here feel free to send another ask!!!

[yo-yo-yeonkai]

TO MY ANGEL, ARE YOU WATCHING? - HUENING KAI - SFW

Kai x reader

Genre: angst

Warning list: big ANGST! major character death, mentions of depression, if you squint your eyes ideas of suicide, mention of : hospital, blood, sickness, not proof read!

Word count: 1,080

Summary: Kai can’t be with you anymore, those chances had long passed, but can he see you and read those letters you send him?

Authors note: This was inspired by a piece I read recently by @mazeinthemoon called [6:27pm], which I highly recommend!!!

Dear Kai,

I’m not sure if you still look down on me, I haven’t felt your presence in so long, it’s been a bit lonely without you here. The house feels empty now, and it’s not like you ever left your room anyway. You stayed burrowed up in there, so I’d have to come join you if I wanted attention. I hope you knew I loved you, it’s too late to tell you now.

I regret it, not telling you whilst you were here, but I’m sure you already knew. The way you’d text me and tell me to come to your room, only for it to be lit up with fairy lights, a fort made in the middle and once we entered the cosiest bed for us to watch movies on. You brought all my favourite snacks, you let me pick the movies, I think you even tried to hold my hand. I’m sorry I got nervous and pulled away, I should’ve just let you hold it whilst you could. Was that a date? To me it was…

I have a new confession now Kai. I haven’t felt this way in such a long time. I did get better since you left, I promise. I’m not sick anymore, but, today I feel it. I feel the way it used to feel.

I don’t feel excited, suddenly everything I’ve ever loved feels bland. As if I took a picture and put a horribly monochrome filter on. My hobbies, are a dull grey, no longer a sparking silver. It doesn’t light up my days, nor does it make me feel like I’m living.

My voice can’t even raise in tone, I’ve tried, it just stays at a continuous monotone. No more inflections as I get excited, no more shouting as I get angry, no, I’m not even sure I felt anything but bland today. Even my emotions are mono, is this even real right now? My face doesn’t lift in a smile, doesn’t frown with disappointment, I have held a straight face for longer than I’d like. I wish you were here to make me smile… you’d probably make that dumb Pokémon noise you always replicated, I’d always whine but you knew I loved it, that’s why it always came flying out of your mouth the second I had a bad day.

Isn’t it weird that people are alive. Like, I’m living my life and you aren’t, you were stolen from me, ripped away too soon, it’s just not fair. Don’t you think? Sometimes I wish it had been the other way around, but I know that’s not possible.

I’ve been better for awhile, I’ve taken care of myself, even tried to go further than just being alive, I tried to LIVE, but I’m not great at that. Ever since i made that mistake at work, my life has consumed me, everything felt overwhelming. Like I was drowning in all the endless pain I left behind me. It came back for me when I least expected it. Can you protect me from it Kai? Can you be my angel?

Who am I kidding… I don’t want you to spend your afterlife worrying about me as well, do what you want to do, live the best you can up there. I’d cry if you thought about me the way I thought about you. In fact, I hope you forgot about me, it would hurt, but I could take it if I knew you were happy.

I used to say that health was a lie… that’s because i get sick with a click of my fingers. Now I mean that both mentally and physically. Our friends must think I chuck myself down the stairs each morning with how much physical pain I come to school with.

“What’s wrong today?”

How did they know I was in pain? Oh yes, that’s right, I’m always in pain. Can I catch a break please…

“I have a terrible pain in my stomach”

Do you remember that I actually had that pain for months and it got so bad sometimes that I missed days and days of school. You took me to the doctors because I hate them, they took my blood, but there was nothing wrong with me that they could find. So I was on medication for awhile, but it didn’t help so I got taken off it. The pain comes back sometimes. The worst bit is when my lecturers ask why I wasn’t in, and I have to explain it’s been the same pain since last month. They must think I’m a liar, I see it in their eyes. You told me I was being dramatic, but I know I wasn’t…

But when you fell sick I suddenly realised that anything I went through was just a silly bug, a little thing that would go away. You… you were suffering, true pain, true agony. I wish I could’ve done something, even ease your pain, but I couldn’t. You wouldn’t even let me stay in the hospital with you like I had wanted to. You told me “Go home, keep it warm so when I get back I won’t be cold”. You died that evening, when I was making your bed, trying to convince myself you’d be home soon. It was a lie I told myself, I knew you wouldn’t be coming home, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

Do you know what it’s like to have your heart ripped from your chest? I imagine you felt a similar pain as your life was coming to an end, that’s how I felt when the nurse called me. She had plunged her hand into my heart and tugged it out with ease, as if my heart knew it was about to be crushed. I wish you were here to make that stupid noise once again… maybe then I’d stop feeling sick, but you aren’t.

I promise this feeling won’t continue, I’ll stay strong Kai, I know you’d want me to. I’ll even go on a walk tomorrow, and try walk it off. You always told me I should get out more. But you aren’t one to talk are you….

Perhaps I should stop sending you these letters, but how can I… when I can’t let go of you. The second I stop, is the second you truly die, because you’ll be a forgotten star, and you could never be that to me.

,Forever the dumbass roommate that fell in love with you…

[alterchaos]

Hi everyone. I wanted to give a proper update after a few days away from everything now that my head and emotions are clearer.

First off, thank you for the well wishes. I wanted to let all of you know that I am doing much better now than I was at the time of my last post. I was scared at the time to be straightforward about what was happening, mostly because I was still processing everything in the moment, but also because I didn't want word getting out to certain people in my physical life. Thankfully nobody I'm worried about has or even knows about Tumblr. There's still a little risk, of course, but I'm done running from the truth. I want to have the courage to be honest and upfront for once. I know now that I deserve that level of acknowledgement and self-respect.

So here goes: I am currently working to escape an abusive relationship I've been trapped in for many years since my early childhood. I was afraid of what I could say or do before because of the threats and direct sabotage every time I made a plan to break free. It was nearly impossible because I didn’t have anyone to help. Whenever I reached out, there my abuser was, defaming and spreading lies about me until they all turned their backs: teachers, CPS, police, everyone. I’ve been stuck in the same town, the same house, since I was a little girl with no way of escaping, even forced to remain trapped as I became an adult through thrown away scholarships and financial blackmail.

That changed though when I made a close circle of friends in my college years. At first, I was too terrified to reach out but after all this time and my continued failures, I finally hit my breaking point. I finally grew sick of the screaming, the door slamming, the threats, the gaslighting, the name-calling, and the manipulating. I swallowed my terror and asked for help. The kindness my friends and their families have shown me is something I can never repay even though they’d never ask me to. Thanks to them, I’ve found a way out without fear of homelessness. They connected me with financially stable job opportunities in my field as well as affordable housing in the area, and they are even helping with the process of moving and transitioning in the coming month or so. I’m very excited. I’ve already had a really awesome company express that they want to hire me and we’re meeting soon to discuss which role I would best serve them in.

I’m not entirely out of the woods yet, but I am finding ways to minimize contact with my abusers until I can cut ties despite still having to live with them for a short while longer. They don’t know about my Tumblr nor do they have Discord and I plan to keep it that way.

In all this time, Alter Chaos has been my form of escape from what I have to face almost daily. Most of the time, it’s helped me feel empowered and given me strength. Other times though, it’s been misused as a way to numb myself to the abuse and accept my circumstances. Personally, I’m not entirely sure what I want. I’ve never been given the luxury of being able to choose for myself without a fight or some kind of loss. The only thing I know is that I don’t want my art to perpetuate a toxic cycle or, heaven forbid, spread toxicity across the internet. I know this is a self-insert story, but I’m trying to remain cognizant of how I use my oc to reach out to and inspire others while remaining faithful to who I am. I’m not perfect, but the last thing I want is for this to be some narcissistic ego-trip fantasy. I want to be a better, healthier person than how I was raised to be. My greatest fear is looking in the mirror one day and seeing the same kind of abuser staring back. I don't know what I'd do if I ever hurt someone in that way.

With that in mind, I feel like it would be best for me to take my time for a bit. I’m still writing, don’t get me wrong, but I want to make sure I’m proud of what I write, especially as I do the work to untangle the years of conditioning and manipulation I went through. I don’t feel as if I really have the right to be writing a story about overcoming issues such as trauma and abuse if I keep remaining stuck in my own life. Seems a bit performative and hypocritical to me. At the same time though, I don’t want to punish myself for the things I went through as a child. That shouldn’t be what this is about either. I’m honestly just not really sure what it should be about, or if it should even be about anything, and I'm a bit tired of forcing myself to try and have all the answers.

I think the next step is to just have fun for a change, maybe post some random wips and memes and doodles while I write and polish chapters on my own time. I’m currently working hard on the Seven Rings Saga and, when I post it, I know it’s going to be work I can be proud of because it won’t just be a form of escape. It won't be some food for the me that was created and conditioned out of fear either. It will be art that I polished and created with love and a clear mind. I even found a coffee shop and some diners where I can go out and write in peace and quiet, which should help make the process more enjoyable overall. I’m really looking forward to my new routine!

Thank you everyone for your continued support, and I’m so sorry if I’ve let the toxicity in my life seep into my storytelling and relationships with all of you. I’m going to do better for everyone, including myself. That way, this series can be a fun and enjoyable experience that promotes a healthy mindset like I always wanted it to be.

See you soon with whatever random art or wip nonsense I decide to post next /lh. Take care everyone! ♡

[drdemonprince]

hey!! i've been watching your amazing top surgery recovery on insta and i'm wondering if you have any tips/secrets to recovering so quickly??! i've been looking into top surgery but have been so intimidated because everything i've read about the recovery process makes it seem like it'll take months and that's something that's not realistic for me with my limited support system + limited time off work but goddamn i would love to get my tits chopped off asap. i read something about how you gotta b

continued: be prepared to not physically be able walk around or lift more than a jug of apple juice for like two months post-op and that's been scaring me off top surgery cuz that's just not sustainable for me!!

Yeah, so I do think some people are really really overstating how incapacitating the procedure has to be, and that some of that is a holdover of doctor's historical approaches to treating patients.

Like historically, wealthy pregnant women were sometimes in bed nearly the full duration of their pregnancies, and just in general medicine used to believe that the best way for a patient to heal was for them to be lying down doing as little as possible (and being as compliant and inobtrusive as possible), and I believe that might still color some surgeon's recommendations today. Even though we know that gentle movement and maintaining function where one can is good for healing!

Now, my experience with surgery has been far and away better than that of anyone I've heard of so far for a couple of reasons, some that are within a patient's control, some that are not.

The first thing is that I have a high pain tolerance and love moving around, I need to move around to feel good, it's just very helpful for my mental health and sensory regulation. Even when I have the flu or COVID, I still tend to lift weights and take walks -- maybe at a slightly diminished capacity, maybe taking a day off if I feel incapable, but I generally want to move and find it easy to start moving quickly even when I'm sick or in pain.

2. The second piece is, you guessed it, my activity level. Before surgery, I was lifting weights for a half hour each day, five days per week. I'd been doing roughly that amount for a couple of years. I also live in a city and don't have a car so I walk a lot, take the stairs when I can, go out dancing sometimes, and just generally stay pretty active. We could chalk this up as a "choice" but that would be to ignore the fact that I'm capable of doing that much activity and I enjoy it. If I had kids, a 9-5 office job, physical disabilities that impacted my ability to exercise, elder care responsibilities, or anything else, I couldn't work out five days per week. But I personally can. And that has either been good for my health, or is just a signal of the fact that I am in good health.

3. That brings us to the third piece: I don't really have any health issues that get in the way of healing. I get over colds relatively quickly, and aside from a bout of anemia and severe burnout in my mid 20s and some knee pain that I gave myself from using a standing desk for two long that seems to never go away, I've made it to 35 without too many scratches on the vehicle.

Right now I'm probably in the best health of my life, both because of my activity levels and just really finally getting on top of cooking myself meals most days of the week, lots of like fish and veggies and rice and quinoa and shit (I used to survive on power bars far too often. they're still nice. but cooking dinner regularly has made me feel more nourished and strong). Again a lot of that is being lucky enough to have time to do the things that help me feel good.

4. Before surgery, I was hydrating and fibering like a mother fucker, up until midnight the night before my operation, when I was supposed to begin fasting. I also went two weeks without any alcohol, weed, cigarettes, delta 8, or any other substances, and no medications other than my testosterone. I also quit caffeine several months ago which has had a DRAMATIC impact on my mental health and improved my eating and hydration as well. Three hours before surgery I took a prescribed anti-nausea pill, and a celebrex (a prescribed anti-inflammatory, basically it dulls nerve pain a bit) as advised by my doctor.

5. I chose to work with a surgeon who does not use narcotics -- this is a huge one. Opioid pain medications pack a whallop, and if you need them, you need them, there's no shame in that -- but I think the American medical system is still skewed towards using them too willy nilly compared to most other parts of the world. They make you groggy, slow down your digestion, can make you depressed, make you nauseated, and just generally keep you from moving around and eating, and you really do want your physical system to be moving and metabolizing so it can heal you.

I would not have been up and walking around the day of my surgery if I was on opioids. The day after surgery I was able to stream for three hours, ride the train to my post-op appointment, and walk to a restaurant a few blocks away for dinner because I wasn't loopy or medicated at all. And I truly did not need them. Because I wasn't on opioids I was also able to shit the same day I had surgery instead of battling bloating and constipation for days, which most guys describe having.

Rather than giving any hard core pain meds to me, my doctor used numbing injections during surgery, which blunted the pain for the first 48 hours post-op, which is the worst period healing wise. Beyond that, he put me on antibiotics and a celebrex in the morning and at night. I've never felt much pain at all.

At this point, my pain is like.. less than a period cramp? Similar to muscle soreness from working out? I feel fragile because my skin is stitched together, so it's not like I could run a marathon or climb a rock wall, and I can't cook or carry anything over a milk jug. but I can walk around, shower, take the train, open light doors, get dressed, feed my chinchilla, stuff like that.

6. My surgeon encouraged movement. Many surgeons tell you not to lift your arms above your head for weeks, but this can result in you needing physical therapy afterward and losing mobility in general. Now if that's what your doctor tells you to do, you should listen to them, but my doctor told me he wanted me to maintain range of motion. I am allowed to open cabinets, shampoo my hair, and reach above my head to grab things -- GENTLY and SLOWLY -- and i do very very light stretches. In the weeks to come I'll need to weigh two competing concerns against one another: the desire to maintain mobility, and the desire to have thin scar lines. I'm still being very delicate but I am using my arms all day and sometimes raising them.

Now, I can't promise you that any of this will happen for you. And since you mentioned wanting to be as independent as possible, let me tell you: do not push it! you will need help! Not getting enough help will dramatically increase your risk of complications! I have someone with me to lift heavy objects, cook, wash the dishes, help me shower, open heavy doors, and to tell me to slow down when i'm going too hard.

The people i know who did have complications got to that point because they didn't ask for enough help. You will need to take time off of any labor intensive job, and you wont be able to move furniture, make your bed, do your laundry, cook a meal, carry groceries, or do other intensive things for a while. I understand the motivation to get back to 'independence' as quickly as possible, but you can't guarantee that will happen.

This week, I will be doing some light work (grading and reading copy edits) because I am able to, and because I'm high energy enough to be getting bored. But I couldn't count on that. I told my boss and my editor I'd be offline for at least two weeks, more if I had complications. Since I didn't, I'm bouncing back way sooner, but it would not have been healthy for me to set out with that as the expectation. I needed to mentally offload the stress of having a job or I wouldnt have healed as well as I have.