#i should probably start taking myself on mental health walks or some shit

[eldritchqueerture]

absolutely fucked up that somatization is a thing. what do you mean anxiety is real and CAN hurt me

[stripedstarsblueflags]

for the hurt/comfort dialogue game - 6 and 21 for sargebon :)

MY FIRST PROMPT!! im so excited!

may have gotten a little carried away with this just a little. no beta we die like fourth of july at silverstone. TW for mental health

“Did you miss me?”/“You’re a terrible liar.”

When Alex emerges onto the roof deck of the hotel, he almost expects Logan to not be there.

Not that he thinks Logan would lie to him. But when Logan had finally picked up the phone after a day of missed calls and one-sided texts, the conversation hadn’t started well.

”What,” he’d snapped on the second ring. “This better be good. If you call me one more time I’m blocking you.”

Alex had been taken aback, flinching in place like a chastised kid. Logan’s tone was defensive, nearly a snarl; all the menace was aimed at Alex, but Alex had still felt more worry than fear. He’d seen Logan once since the crash, on his way back from medical. And then nothing.

”You didn’t answer me,” he’d said after a delayed moment. “I was worried about you. I didn’t see you since the cr– since practice. I was freaking out, okay?”

Logan a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “You saw me get out of the car. I got cleared by medical in, like, two minutes. There are probably ninety people who could’ve told you I was fine.”

And Alex had bitten his lip against the sudden urge to yell into the phone, because that wasn’t fair. His pent-up frustration and fear and distress wasn’t Logan’s fault.

Instead he’d looked around his empty hotel room, paranoia coiling around his spine, and lowered his voice: “James barely even talked to you. Why would I trust anyone there if you were actually fine or not? The way they didn’t let me see you?”

”Wait, when?”

”All day! Jon was practically yelling at me!” Alex did shout then. He didn’t mean to, but the words tumbled out of his mouth with heavy and unrelenting force, like a weight he could barely lift. He took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, willing Logan not to hang up. “I just wanted to see,” Alex tries, then his voice was too quiet. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to see for myself if you were okay because, Logan… it looked bad. Really bad.”

Logan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, static crackling through the speaker. “It wasn’t that bad,” he mumbles. “I walked it off.”

”Don’t try that with me,” Alex said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

”You don’t hear shit,” Logan retorted, but there was no heat behind his voice at all. He just sounded tired, and in pain.

Alex ignored the weak deflection. “Where are you right now?” he asked. “I know it’s late, but–”

”I’m on the roof,” Logan had told him, and that in and of itself was surprising. That Logan would answer him so quickly, and without any snark or rebuttal. That he’d answer at all. Alex thinks of the endless weeks of summer break, the endless silence between them.

”Okay,” he said. “Wait a minute, I just need to get something warmer on.”

The roof deck is large, with sweeping canopies and dead firepits, so many couches and chairs that in the dark he feels like he’s in a cushioned maze. Still, it’s almost completely empty, so it doesn’t take long to find Logan.

Alex joins him at the railing, panes of glass separating them from the dizzying drop below. He takes one look over the side and his stomach rolls; the glittering city lights and streaking cars blur together in a smear of vertigo. He white-knuckles the railing.

Logan had been impossible to read when Alex first joined him, but as Alex stumbles he reaches out and puts a steadying hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Woah there,” he says. “You can’t go over the edge, you’ve got a race tomorrow.”

His words sound like they should hold something sharp– resentment, jealousy, some bitter and unforgiving edge. But instead his eyes are smiling and he’s laughing around his words. The glow from the city underneath paints one half of his face in gentle gold, the rest of it purple from the nighttime shadows. His hair is wild from the wind, whipping around his eyes. He takes his hand off Alex’s shoulder to push his bangs away from his face.

Alex is wishing he’d worn something with a hood. The wind stings his cheeks and makes his eyes water. He shuffles forward, curling his shoulders in, and manages to put his hands back on the railing without collapsing. “Wind’s still crazy,” he mutters.

”You didn’t have to come up here.”

”No, no,” Alex backtracks, all but stuttering. “I wanted to be here.” He hears the desperation in his own voice, the eagerness to contradict, and cringes. Does he always have to sound so obvious?

Logan turns to face him. He has to lift one hand to the right side of his face to keep his hair back, and now his entire face is in shadow. Deep blue shadows hide his eyes. His lips look almost purple in the darkness. It makes Alex want to be closer just to see his face.

”What,” Logan begins, and Alex doesn’t see but hears the slant in his smile. The cocky way he tilts his head back, the way he lets his laughter slip into his voice. “You missed me that bad, huh?”

Alex is unexpectedly flustered. He looks away without meaning to, but that means he turns his eyes right into the gusting wind, and the stinging is sharp and immediate. “Ah,” he grimaces. “I can’t see.”

”You wouldn’t last a day in Miami.”

Alex is trying to protest that he’s lasted a day before, more than a day, admittedly without any storm activity on race weekends but his hastily formatted argument falls to pieces when Logan steps back to take off his hoodie.

His shirt rides up as he does it. Alex absolutely does not stare.

Logan tosses it at him. “Put this on,” he says. “I can’t talk to you while you’re losing a fight with the elements.”

Alex grumbles his protests but puts the hoodie on anyway. It’s warm with Logan’s body heat, a tender relief from the cold. It feels like being embraced. He sighs contentedly.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Logan taunts. “I’m gonna want that back.”

Alex pulls the hood up, and the sounds of the city at night fade away. The shrill rushing of the wind quiets and the clearest sound in the air is Logan’s voice.

“’ll give it back,” he promises. “Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

Logan tilts his head down and crosses his wrists over the bar. “I’m cleared to race tomorrow.”

”That doesn’t answer my question.”

”You’re not gonna let this go until I tell you, are you?”

“You know me too well.”

Logan scoffs, then closes his eyes like he’s given up. “There’s some bruising on my ribs and my shoulder that’ll take some time to heal. And I did something to my wrist getting out, but I can still steer, I’ll just ice it after the race.” He looks down at his right hand and turns it over, fingers curling slowly into a fist, then releasing. “That’s all.”

Alex waits.

“That’s all,” Logan insists. “I saw the footage. It looked worse than it was.”

“It looked pretty bad,” Alex whispers, and he doesn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper– a broken, unstable hush– but his voice won’t resolve. “I was scared.”

”I’m sorry.”

”Don’t be sorry.” Alex lays his hand over Logan’s outstretched wrist, and it shocks both of them.

Logan stares at Alex’s hand, lips parted, eyes still in shadow. Alex holds his breath, waiting to be shaken off, pushed, slapped. But Logan only stares.

Alex takes his other hand and slides it carefully under Logan’s, stabilizing the wrist. Alex has the sleeves of Logan’s hoodie halfway over his palms, but even through the fabric he can feel how cold Logan is. He steps closer.

“You didn’t get out of the car,” Alex says.

Logan tries to draw his hand away then, rolling his shoulders, but Alex doesn’t let him. He holds Logan’s hand tenderly but firmly, lacing their fingers together. Logan watches him do it without resistance, his face impossible to read, but his head is tilted just slightly in Alex’s direction.

”There was fire.”

”I got out.”

“Not when you should’ve. George told me. You just sat there. In the middle of the track. Burning…”

Logan squeezes his eyes shut, clenches and unclenches his jaw. “I didn’t know.”

”Logan, you’re a terrible liar.”

Logan lifts his head and looks steadily at the horizon, swallowing hard. As he turns back to the light, Alex can see the shine in his eyes. “You know,” he murmurs to the city. “Even before I hit the grass I knew, I just knew I was gonna lose it.” He pulls his free hand in and taps his fingers restlessly against the railing. “And then it all just–” he raises that arm and flings his hand out, miming a shunt. “It all just happened so quickly, I remember hitting the wall the first time and the car was in the air and I just thought, ‘This is it.’ This is the end.”

Alex tries to speak, but suddenly he can’t breathe. This is the end. He feels like razor blades are sinking into his throat, the concept whirlpooling in his head like the vertigo. He tries to close his eyes, it the burning afterglow of the city flashes behind his eyelids like fire. He holds Logan’s hand a bit tighter, needing to reassure himself that he’s actually there.

Logan winces, and Alex eases up a little. Logan doesn’t pull away.

“And then it wasn’t,” Logan continues. He pushes out the sentence in a stuttering breath, and the broken smile on his face clearly means he’s trying to laugh, but the sound is jolted and unnatural and he gives up. “And I just sat there like, No, this can’t be right. Like maybe I just had to wait for it.”

“No,” Alex chokes out. He looks at Logan through his tears, willing the other man to turn, to look at him, to give him the mercy of eye contact. He stares helplessly, but all he sees is Logan’s blurred profile. “Logan…”

Logan ducks his head again. “It wasn’t,” he mumbles. “I mean it wasn’t, like, over for me. I told you. I was fine.”

”If you’re waiting in a track when your car is on fire, you’re not fine,” Alex counters fiercely. It’s dark, but his tears are obvious in his voice, the way the words come out strangled an painful. He doesn’t care. “It wouldn’t just be the end for you. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Alex pulls his hand away so he can grab onto his hair, pulling in frustration. “You think we’d be fine?” he shouts. “You think everyone else would just move on after a fire like that? You think you can just leave?”

Logan finally turns to him then, but Alex isn’t done.

“We were scared. Fucking hell, you nearly gave George a heart attack. We thought something was wrong. We thought you weren’t gonna make it out!”

“But I did. It’s fine.”

“IT’S NOT FINE!”

Logan reaches out with his good hand and gingerly pulls Alex’s fingers out of his hair. Alex’s hands are shaking; Logan laces their fingers together, drapes their hands back over the railing. “Hey,” he whispers. “Calm down, okay? You sound like you care more than I do.”

“I think I do,” Alex spits out.

“Alex…”

“You can’t fucking leave.” It sounds like a demand, it sounds like a plea. And in a way it is; he’s begging Logan to understand, to show some regret, to somehow prove the danger is really over. “Please, Logan… it would kill me.”

Logan says nothing, just stares back. The wind ruffles his hair. He licks his lips.

”You can’t leave,” Alex insists. He’s repeating himself. He’s a broken record, but he can’t pull any more coherent thought together. The only thing that exists in his mind is the paralyzing urgency to make Logan understand. “Promise me that won’t happen again.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “That I won’t crash again?”

“You know what I mean.”

Logan looks down at their joined hands. “I don’t know why you care so much.”

It’s Alex’s turn to roll his eyes, putting as much exasperation in his heavy sigh as possible. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.”

Logan laughs bitterly. “What? You’re confusing me, man. You say you care, and then you’re yelling at me, you wanted to make sure I’m fine but you don’t believe me when I tell you I am? Like, jesus christ Alex, what do you want from m–”

Alex has heard enough. He steps forward and takes Logan in his arms.

Logan flinches at first, hands raising almost defensively, a shudder racking his body.

Alex is patient. Logan feels so cold and small in his arms; he’s never felt their height difference more. He runs his fingers through Logan’s hair.

Logan folds all at once, dropping his head onto Alex’s shoulder and staggering to the point where he almost topples them both. Alex stabilizes them as Logan grabs him around the ribs, hands crossed over the small of his back, holding too tight like he’s afraid Alex might let go at any moment.

Alex lets Logan hold him, hurt him. Logan’s shaking in his arms, hitching in breath, nearly choking. Alex holds him through it.

“I got you,” he soothes. “I got you. You’re not going anywhere.”

[staytheword]

do you like it?

do you like it? — one shot request by anon [ general masterlist ] [ requests ]

18+ !! minors, please do not interact!!

• seungmin x female reader; felix, jisung and jeongin are also featured.

• non idol au. college au. strangers to lovers. just some seungmin smut for mental health. drinking, drugs (weed), college parties, mention of different kinks. explicit language, explicit sexual content. sex positive mc. dom!seungmin. dirty talk, fingering, use of pet names, degrading, unprotected sex (don't do it please), sort of public sex, creampie.

• word count: 4.5k

You desperately need distraction from studying, so you and a friend head to a party. That's where you meet Seungmin, who joins you for a fun game.

• author’s note: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you will enjoy it. Please let me know if you liked it if you can!! I had a lot of fun writing it! What a great way to unwind haha. Thank you everyone for your support as always ♡ I know this is a little different from what I usually write, but it's my way of not overthinking things, of challenging myself, and to just have fun writing and sharing things with you. Please be kind haha I'm very scared :') ♡

You are bored. 

You close your phone, rubbing your eyes. It’s not like you have nothing to do - there are dozens of things you could and probably should be doing, but you can’t bring yourself to. Studying. Cleaning. Answering messages. But everything feels empty, everything feels flat. 

You need a distraction. A real one. Something to disconnect your brain, to collide with the universe, to explode into sparks. 

Chae-won is lazily tapping something on her computer. You stand up from your chair and take the few steps it takes to reach her desk, leaning on it, gesturing to her to remove her headphones. She looks at you, her short black hair in slight disarray, the dark circles under her eyes betraying the fact that she hasn’t been sleeping very well lately. 

“Hm?” she asks in a low tone. 

“Save the document,” you tell her.

She frowns slightly but indulges, and once she has clicked the option, you slam her laptop screen closed. 

“What are you doing?” she cries out, although she doesn’t seem bothered.

“Enough of this shit, Chae,” you exclaim, circling the desk to sit on her bed. “We’ve been doing nothing for too long. Our brains are puddles. We are barely human beings anymore. This can’t go on.” 

“But I have this essay…” 

“The deadline is still days away,” you interrupt her, shaking your head. “You need some air. Isn’t that what people say? Perspective is good or something like that?” 

Chae-won sighs, falling back into her chair. “I guess they do say that.” 

“We need to get out of this room before we turn into our desk chairs. I’m crawling up the damn walls. Let’s do something.” 

Your friend rubs her eyes, a slight pout on her lips. “Like what?” 

“Anything,” you retort. “See a movie. Take a walk. Get ice cream.” 

You both look at each other and sigh. It’s not that you don’t want to do those things - but they will not scratch your itch, that much you know. You stand up and start to pace around the room both of you share. It’s not very big, and the colors are painted a very odd beige color, but you and Chae-won still managed to make it your own. String lights, movie posters, plants - you’ve made sure to use every inch square possible and maximize the space. 

After a second or two, you snap your fingers and smile triumphantly.

“I know. Let’s go to a party.” 

Her face lights up. “A party? Hm. Yeah, that… That sounds nice. It’s been a while.” 

You grin, standing up, taking your friend’s hands to lift her up on her feet. She twirls, letting out a little giggle. 

“We can get drunk. We can get high.” 

“Even better,” she tells you, raising an index. “We can get laid.” 

Both of you break into your best evil laughs, and you already feel revitalized. 

“Let’s fucking do it!” you roar. “Now we just need to find a party. It’s a Tuesday, though…” 

“We’re in college, Y/N,” she tells you. “There’s always a party going on somewhere.”

Chae-won puts on some music and both of you sit down on your bed, pulling out your phones to go on the hunt for a party. You feel your heart beat faster in your chest, excited about the turn your day is taking. At the start of the semester, the both of you had been attending every possible party, but it’s been a few weeks since you even thought about going to one. You and Chae-won were the same - you took your studies seriously, but you also adored completely losing it at parties. You called it balance. 

You check social media while Chae-won messages a few friends from her classes, but you don’t see much. It’s still early, too, so you guess that even if parties were taking place tonight they wouldn’t have started yet. 

“They’re having a party at the Kapa Delta,” Chae tells you, showing you a Facebook event. 

You scrunch your nose. “I can’t fucking stand them, though. And the guys that go there are gross.” 

“That’s just because you don’t like jocks.” 

“That is not true,” you reply, shooting your friend a dark glare. “I like Changbin a lot, he’s a jock.” 

“He’s not a jock, he’s a gym obsessed music geek.” 

“Whatever,” you mumble. “I should text him. I miss him. He graduated way too fast.” 

“Yes, Y/N, I know,” Chae laughs. “Best fuck you’ve ever had and all.” 

You giggle to yourself, scrolling through stories, when you stumble upon an interesting one. It was posted by Felix, a guy you met a few weeks ago, and shows the picture of a brownie with confetti emojis. You show the screen to Chae-won with a grin.

“That looks like a party to me,” you tell her, and you both smile. 

You immediately reply to Felix’s story. 

you can we come over?? 

His answer comes quickly. 

felix who dis

LOL JUST KIDDING OFC

He adds about four lines of texts’ worth of emojis, so you guess it’s positive. You and Chae-won giggle in front of your phone. 

you drop the address!!!!!!

Once Felix has given you the information, you and Chae-won start to get ready. It takes a few tries to get the perfect but comfortable outfits. You each take two shots from the bottle of tequila you keep in your desk, do each other’s makeup and finish hyping yourself with some dance therapy. After, you slip on your shoes and text Felix you’re on your way.

The dorm is already filled with people when you arrive, the party well on its way. It’s the typical college party you are used too, with loud music, the smell of beer, people making out here and there, guys with no shirts screaming nonsense. You and Chae-won make your way through the crowd until you find Felix, who looks already completely high, sitting on the floor of the corridor next to his friend Jeongin.

“Oh, Y/N!” he grins, waving at you. “You made it.” 

“Like half the college population, yeah,” you giggle. You wouldn’t say you’re drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy from the shots you and Chae-won took. “Why the fuck are there so many people here?” 

“Jisung hacked the college email and sent the invite to everyone,” Jeongin says, and you all burst out laughing.

“No way, that’s kinda genius,” Chae-won comments. 

“Genius? I’ll take it,” says a voice. 

It’s Jisung, who has appeared next to your roommate, putting his arm on her shoulder with a seductive smile. 

“Why do I not know your name, beautiful?” 

Chae-won scoffs a little. “Because you’ve forgotten it. We met like four times before.” 

You, Felix, and Jeongin cackle at Jisung’s slightly defeated face. “I have?” 

“No,” Chae-won laughs. “I’m just messing with you.” 

“Come on, that’s not -”

“Ji, leave them alone,” Felix says, shaking his head. He stands up on clumsy legs and waves at you to follow him. “Let’s get you some brownie, yeah?” 

You all head towards the dorm kitchen and Felix draws a half eaten brownie from the fridge. You and Chae-won each eat a square, sharing drinks with everyone. You talk with Jeongin a lot because you discover a shared love for a band, feeling the small amount of weed and the booze do their magic. Before you know it, you’re giggling for no good reason. You stand up to follow the others out of the kitchen, laughing with Chae-won about Jisung’s cheesy pick-up lines. You’ve just gone through the door and heading left when you crash against someone. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” you laugh, looking up. 

You do not know him. Dark brown hair, wide smile, square jawline, deep brown eyes. He looks sweet, but has a strength about him that you instantly like. An energy, a certainty. 

“You alright there?” he asks you, giving you a smile. When you don’t answer, feeling slightly awestruck, he laughs. “Lix, what kind of weed did you put in your brownie this time?” 

“The normal kind?!” Felix answers, arching an eyebrow. “Guys, this is Seungmin. He goes to West U.” 

“Oh,” you say, finally able to give him back his smile.

That must be why you’ve never seen him before. He gives you a last smirk, turning away to follow all of you to another room. He throws his arm around Felix’s shoulder affectionately and you sharply turn to Chae-won.

“Holy fuck, he’s so hot!” you cry out. 

You didn’t see Jisung right next to her, who grins. “Y/N HAS A CRUSH ON -” 

Chae-won slams her hand across his mouth, chuckling. “He’s so your type, Y/N. We’ll be your wingpeople, won’t we, Jisung? Quietly and subtly?” 

Jisung nods, and Chae-won removes her hand. 

“What she said,” he nods solemnly. 

You shake your head, laughing, and all of you make it in a dorm room where there aren’t too many people. You sit down on a couch, Chae-won making sure Seungmin is next to you. You give him a smile as you cross your legs. He smells good, a perfectly balanced cologne that almost makes you dizzy. 

“So, Seungmin…” you say, tasting his name on your lips. “Are you single?” 

He chuckles, taking a long sip from his red cup. “That’s the first thing you want to know about me, huh?” 

“Just wondering how much I can flirt with you,” you grin. 

“You can flirt with me as much as you like, cutie. I’m not really a relationship type of guy.” 

You arch an eyebrow, unable to hold back your satisfied smile. “Most guys in college aren’t.” 

Seungmin laughs. “Good point. But I’m not saying that just because I want to get laid. I have commitment issues.”

His honesty takes you by surprise and you stammer, the light in Seungmin’s eyes almost making you blush. 

“Is that why you attend parties in other colleges?” you ask once you recover. “So you can hook up and not have the chance to see the person on campus again?” 

“You see right through me.” 

His sense of humor keeps catching you off guard, but you appreciate it. You don’t feel like you’re just flirting, but like you’re having an actual conversation - and you are so absorbed that you almost forget the party around you, the people screaming, the smell of booze and sweat. It is only when the person next to you spills his drink on the couch and almost all over you that Seungmin takes your hand, drawing you away, and you lean against the wall not too far, next to each other, so you can keep talking. Seungmin stands close to you, sometimes whispering in your ear so you can hear each other better. 

After a while, you stare at your empty cup. “Fuck, that’s been empty for a while.” 

“You want a refill?” Seungmin suggests. 

“I’m fine. I came here tonight for distraction, and it was either getting really drunk or hooking up, so…” 

“You chose the second option,” he finishes for you, smirking. “Is that right?” 

You bite your lip, staring up at him, the curve of his lips, the shape of his shoulders underneath his black shirt, the silver chain around his neck. He’s just doing something for you, and you know it, and he knows it. Instant connection, you think is what people call it. 

“I’m really considering it,” you tell him in a breath. 

He leans in slightly, cupping your cheek. His hand is warm, big, and you want it to touch you everywhere. 

“Why don’t I help you make your choice?” he suggests. 

You nod, and he pushes his lips against yours. The kiss is eager but not too insistent, and you quickly fall into it. His hand falls on your waist and he pulls your body slightly closer to his. You moan in his mouth as he starts to play with your tongue. Your mind is reeling, your thoughts a complete mess, when he leans back. 

“So, what do you think?” he breathes in your ear, keeping his voice low. 

“I think…” you sigh. “I think we need to find a place that is more private so we can do some more of that.” 

Seungmin laughs and takes your hand to lead you away, but then Jeongin appears next to you, a large smile on his face. 

“There you are!” he cries out, grabbing Seungmin’s sleeve. “Come on, we’re playing  a game!” 

There is clearly no chance of arguing with him, so you exchange an amused look with Seungmin and shrug. This can wait, you think to yourself, and you both follow Jeongin back to your friend group. You all sit in a circle as Jeongin explains you are going to play a round of Do you like it. You arch an eyebrow as he takes out the cards and displays them. 

“I don’t know the game,” you say to Seungmin. “What’s it about?” 

“Sex,” he answers simply. 

Your eyes grow a little wide, and he keeps his eyes on you. A smirk appears on your lips, amused. 

“Oh,” you answer. “Interesting.” 

You all form teams of two, the other being your opponent. Chae-won pairs with Jisung, Felix with Jeongin, so you end up with Seungmin. The game is simple. One of the teammates is given a word or phrase related to sex, and the teammate has to guess how the other would rate it out of ten. 

Felix seems to know Jeongin almost too well, guessing right his love for threesomes and his aversion for eating food off bodies. Jisung surprises no one with his love for porn but admits he’s not much for step sister fantasies. After the others’ turns you are tearing up from laughing too much, holding your sides. 

“Your turn, Y/N,” Felix tells you. “You have to guess Seungmin’s.” 

You shake your hands, turn to face your teammate. “Hit me.” 

Seungmin chuckles and draws a card from the pile. “Ok. First is… blowjobs.” 

You squint your eyes at him, trying to figure out his reaction. He is unreadable, however. You pout. 

“I’ll say 9 out of 10.” 

“Close,” he replies. “8.” 

He gives a little shrug. 

“I’m more a giver than a receiver.” 

You can’t hold back a slightly nervous, slightly amused giggle. Can’t wait to find out, you almost tell him. 

You can’t help it - the game is turning you on slowly but surely. You still feel Seungmin’s lips on yours as you find out about his kinks. Maybe it’s his direct gaze on you as you speak about sex and orgasms, or the way his hand brushes your thigh as he leans to take a card, or his voice, steady and low, telling you how much he likes the doggystyle position. Whatever it is, it’s working, and your heart is beating hard and fast in your chest. Then it’s your turn, in which he discovers you’d love to try out bondage and you love using toys during sex. 

“Take some notes, Seungmin,” Jisung chuckles. 

He does not answer anything, but you enjoy the look on his face a little too much. This almost feels like very long foreplay.  

“Last but not least,” Seungmin says, staring at you. 

You draw a card and blush a little. “Dirty talk.” 

“I’ll say 6.” 

“Wrong,” you retort, lifting your chin proudly. Better he knows. “That is definitely a 10.” 

Your group of friends erupts into laughter and whistles, and Seungmin shoots you a surprised look. 

“A 10, huh? Good to know.” 

He stares at you with such intent you feel your walls tighten. It’s like you can see through his eyes that he’s thinking about it, and you wonder if he’s as turned on as you are. 

The game ends when someone suddenly turns up the music at the sound of a classic party song, and you all stand up to start dancing. You and Chae-won dance together for a while before you feel someone’s hand on your waist, sweeping you away. You twirl on your feet, your eyes falling in Seungmin’s. 

He starts to dance with you, his eyes fixated on you, your bodies close to one another. He completely takes your breath away. You sway your hips, smiling up at him. 

You like him perhaps a little too much, you tell yourself, but you do not hide it. Why would you? From the way he looks and smiles at you, you’d say it’s pretty much mutual. You hope something more can happen. You want to find a way to get him alone with you, or at least to find a corner where you can make out again, when Felix decides you will all be playing seven minutes in heaven. 

“Lix, we’re not 12 anymore,” Jeongin sighs. 

“Exactly,” Felix points out with a cheeky smile. “Imagine what can happen inside seven minutes…” 

You all complain but you still end up playing. The first to go in are Jisung and Jeongin, and they come back in the middle of a heated debate about video games. Meanwhile, you and Seungmin keep talking, and he actually leaves a hand on your thigh. You stare down at it sometimes, loving the sight of his long fingers sprawled on your skin. You imagine them being somewhere else, feeling your panties getting drenched. Seugnmin feels it, you are sure of it, because he gives you a smirk. Then, Jisung gets chosen again, but with Chae-won this time - and from the blush on your friend’s cheek, you are pretty sure something happened in that closet, although you couldn’t tell what. You’ll have to ask her later. 

“I have an idea,” Chae-won says. “Why not do it with the teammates from earlier? Me and Jisung went, so why not Seungmin and Y/N this time?” 

You shoot your friend a glare. Not very subtle, you mouth, and she shrugs. 

“Sounds good,” Seungmin simply states, taking your hand and guiding you towards the closet. 

You follow him inside, your heart beating fast in your chest. Is this really happening? 

The closet door closes, and you look up at Seungmin. 

You are pretty much the same height, so there is no escaping his direct gaze. You swallow as he smirks, your mouth feeling dry. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he says in a low voice. 

It’s not silent, because you can still perfectly hear the sound of the conversation and music just on the other side of the door, but it’s muffled enough for you to hear him perfectly. 

“Let’s not waste a second, yeah?” 

You part your lips to speak but Seungmin gently pushes you against the wall of the closet, pinning one of your hands next to your shoulder, his mouth leaning into the crook of your neck. You let out a soft whimper, unable to stop yourself from clenching around nothing. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he whispers, his breath tickling your skin. His other hand slithers around your waist, resting on the small of your back. “But if you let me, I have a good idea of what I want to do with my seven minutes....” 

You breathe out, arching your back slightly. “Do whatever you want.” 

Seungmin chuckles. “That’s what I thought.” 

He tilts his head to look back into your eyes, licking his lips slowly. His pelvis is barely brushing yours, but you can feel his erection building, pushing against your leg. 

“Dirty talk, huh? If that’s what you like, I can give it to you,” he growls, kissing your jawline. “You want me to tell you what a fucking slut you are? You like it filthy?” 

You open your lips to answer but Seungmin’s teeth tease your earlobe, and your words come out as pathetic moans. “F-fuck, S-Seungmin…” 

“Seven minutes is not nearly enough, but it’ll have to do for now. Fuck, I’m so glad I came to this party.” 

His large hand slides around your leg, pushing your thighs apart, and you wrap your arm around his neck for support. You already know you are soaked - you have been for the past hour, ever since the game, and even before that. There’s just something about Seungmin that makes your legs go weak, a hunger in his eyes, a mischievousness in his smile. You want him to ruin you, you want him to whisper the nastiest things in your ear, and he looks just about to do that, so you can barely bring yourself to breathe. 

Seungmin pushes two of his fingers against your pussy, above the fabric of your panties. You let out a choked moan, your body jolting.  

“Fuck, those panties are drenched,” he chuckles in your ear. “How about I finger you in the closet like the dirty little whore you are, hm? Would you like that?”

You nod. “Yes,” you breathe. 

Seungmin breathes hard, and pushes your panties down. They fall at your feet and you spread your legs a little more to give him some space. 

“That’s right,” he groans. “Open that pussy for me. Fuck, that’s hot. You’re so fucking wet.” 

Seungmin’s long fingers draw circles on your folds, and he squeezes your clit in between them, drawing a louder moan from your lips. You do not care if people can hear you, they probably already know what you are up to. 

You roll your hips against Seungmin’s caresses, breathing hard in his neck, your legs already weak. He holds you up against him, however, his hard cock pressed against you. Each time you roll your hips, causing friction against his bulge, you hear him hiss in both annoyance and delight. You wish he would fuck you right there, but his fingers feel like heaven, and you don’t him to stop.

“P-push them inside, Seungmin,” you plead. “P-please.” 

“Pretty girl wants to fuck herself on my fingers, huh? Let me see how good your hole feels. I bet you’re so warm and tight…” 

He slowly inserts two fingers inside of you, and you shudder against him. 

“Fuck, yes…” 

“God, fuck, I was right,” Seungmin breathes as he does not waste any time starting to fuck your cunt with his fingers. His movements are sharp and deep, curving inside of you to reach even further, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Fuck, Seungmin!” You cry out, digging your fingers into the back of his neck. 

It’s like he instantly knows exactly how to pleasure you, his speed, his angle, his rhythm. You can’t focus on anything else than how he sinks his fingers into your pussy, and you can only hear him breathe, the squelching sounds of him fingering you relentlessly filling the closet. Your cunt clenches  as he inserts another finger, stretching your hole. You are shaking, his passion consuming you whole, your orgasm on the tip of his fingers. 

Seungmin keeps whispering filth in your ears, his whispers getting more and more disordered. That’s my little slut, you fucking take it, such a tight cunt, my fingers are fucking you so deep, am I going to make you cum like a whore? 

“S-seungmin,” you whimper as you are about to come. 

He growls, and it’s so animalistic it feels unreal. Suddenly his fingers disappear from your cunt and you gasp at the sudden absence, opening your eyes in a panic, but Seungmin is only unbuttoning his jeans. You see his bulge, big and pushing against the fabric, and you hurry to help him take his cock out. It’s rock hard but you don’t have time to look at it, because Seungmin guides it under your cunt.

“I don’t have -”

“I don’t care,” you whisper. 

He pushes his cock deep inside you, bottoming out instantly. It doesn’t hurt because you were soaked and already stretched by his fingers - it just feels both overwhelming and magnificent. You cry out his name as he buries himself inside of you, his hips immediately thrusting hard, fucking you against the wall almost desperately. 

“F-fuck,” he grunts. “So fucking tight… around my cock… I was meant to fuck that cunt, fuck.” 

You have no words - you only hold onto him tighter, feeling full and fucked out already. Seungmin pounds into you, his cock throbbing against your walls. 

“I’m gonna - Seungmin, fuck!” 

“Taking my cock so well,” he whispers in your ear, his voice trembling. “So fucking well, like the slut you are. Getting fucked in a closet with all your friends to hear it. You’re not going to walk straight after this, are you?” 

“Don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, your head dizzy. 

Your orgasm feels like a flash of lightning, blindening you to everything else, your cunt throbbing and fluttering around him. Your legs are shaking but Seungmin holds you up and keeps whispering in your ear, drawing out your orgasm, your cum making the fuck even more messy as you drip around his cock. 

“Fuck, yes. Keep clenching like this around my cock.” 

You’re not sure how you’re still standing, because Seungmin has not slowed down whatsoever, and you are holding on to him because you might fall if you don’t. He moans in your ear, his body pressed hard against yours. You can feel he is close too, his cock pulsating in your cunt.

“Are you going to take my cum inside of you, huh? Are you a good little cumslut? Gonna let me fill up that tight little hole?” 

You nod. “Give it to me.” 

He sinks into you, a growl escaping his lips, and comes. His cock spurts out his warm cum inside of you, and you moan at the feeling. He’s filling you up, your hole sensitive and deliciously aching. 

“Fuck,” Seungmin sighs, staying inside of you for a second, his forehead resting on the wall beside your head. 

Your fingers come to stroke his hair, which is a little sweaty, and you stay silent for a few seconds. You are completely fucked out, your legs wobbly, and you have no idea how you’ll be able to even leave this closet. How long has it been? Feels like seconds, like hours. Has it been seven minutes? More, less? 

Seungmin places a kiss on your neck, and you shiver. 

“You’re going to keep my cum inside of you, won’t you?” he breathes, and you can only nod. “Good girl.” 

He removes his cock, his fingers immediately sweeping the overflowing liquids to push them back into you. You squirm at the touch, sensitive, but Seungmin does not stop. He guides your panties back between your legs, and replaces your skirt. 

Just then, you hear a knock on the door. You recognize Felix’s voice.

“Guys, we’ve given you some more time because you were clearly busy, but… Hurry the fuck up, will you?!” 

You giggle. “Just a sec!” 

Seungmin takes a step back, a satisfied smirk on his lips, and you watch him put his cock back in his jeans, mouth parted, breathless. 

“Dirty talk, check,” he smiles, looking up at you. “Next time, should we try sex toys or bondage?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head. “We did one of mine, so next time, let’s do one of yours.” 

Seungmin’s eyes light up. “Are you sure you’re up for it, cutie?” 

You just smile, putting a hand on the door handle. “Fuck yes, I am.”

(note about taglists) I don't want to tag anyone on this because this is different and tagging gets me a little anxious, but if you do want to be tagged on requests like these, let me know ♡ Lots of love!

[violet-jessop]

i had my first therapy session today.

90 minutes with a psychologist who i'm booked to see once a week for the next 5 weeks.

a friend asked me if i was nervous last night when i told her, and i had to think on it. i found i wasn't. it was strange because logically i think i should have been, but i couldn't muster any real feelings about it. i felt indifferent. resigned.

i know that's probably not what she wanted to hear, but i think lying in this instance would have just given her false hope.

to get to this point has been such a shit show.

self harming since a decade ago this year, suicidal on and off for at least for the last eight. tried to seek help in 2019 only to get put on 10 times the starting dose of some random antidepressant and told to fuck off with no follow up and automatically renewing prescriptions. stopped taking those after a year or so with no real improvement. things have just steadily declined.

last year was okay, probably the most okay i've felt for an extended period since 2014. but now it's almost worse because i saw it could be okay, and now it's not again.

finding a psych that met my needs was near on impossible. my only two criteria were trans (or just a queer person who i could feel like less of a freak with) and able to deal with SI - and that left me with one option via telehealth. booked in to do a 15 minute consultation with her she was 30 minutes late to the session, so i assumed i'd been forgotten. then when she eventually called she didn't even acknowledge it.

getting the mental health care plan from my GP was so degrading. i went to a different doc because i didn't trust the last guy who is just so happy to write prescriptions. but the new guy was no better. clearly thought i didn't need any of this, wrote maybe 2 lines on the mhcp documents, left most of it blank, didn't even bother to sign it. said he performed the k10 which he didn't. straight up wrote that i seemed fine based on "good eye contact and engages well". and he never even sent it to the identity clinic, i had to chase him to obtain a copy so i could send it off myself.

and today rolls around. we have our session. what was supposed to cost me 134 out of pocket cost me 250 unexpectedly, so after the appointment they had to call me several times because my account had insufficient funds because i only had enough for what they'd told me it would cost.

in the session she misgendered me. she said "as a woman with autism. oh, i assume you're she/her right?". which was wild as a psych who works for the "identity clinic" - where i had to fill in a million forms that included my pronouns in multiple places. where i had sent an inquiry to find out if they had anyone on staff who would suit a non-binary person with SI. and then the SI, where i mentioned it as something i'd like to work through, and she pretty much told me if i talk about that sort of stuff in a non-joking way she'll have to make sure i'm institutionalised. so i had to play it off as a joke. as hyperbole. the two things, such basic things i thought. so what am i here for again? is what's wrong with me so taboo i can't even pay a medical professional $250 to let me speak about it? is my soul so putrid? if anyone ever tries to force me into inpatient i'll put on a pine overcoat as soon as possible, that's not up for debate.

so we talked about other things, and i cried in front of another person for the first time in ages and it wasn't even cathartic it was just for the shame of admitting my failings out loud. and she told me maybe my anxiety is just autistic meltdown which i know isn't right, i know the difference. she walked me through diaphragmatic breathing like i was 5. she recommended i buy airpods and try burlesque. it reminded me of Jo telling me i should try drumming circles around the time of my first attempt.

so i suppose i was right in feeling indifferent. i had enough hope left to try, but not enough to be hopeful. i really don't have the energy to go through this all again. time is ticking down, 128 weeks at best. i suppose i'll give her another two sessions and see. but if she doesn't work out i think that's me done. how many times am i expected to try? it was already mortifying enough. i know Tal will be angry, but i just don't have it in me to keep doing this over and over. every failed attempt at getting better just adds more weight, reaffirms what i already suspected.

and the statistics of it. either i've encountered consistently bad medical practitioners OR the problem lies with me. at this point statistically it has to be me, there's just been too many failings. especially when i see so many friends drive the same road without issue. yet i keep hitting roadblock after roadblock. at what point do i just acknowledge that i'm a bad driver? maybe it's been roadblock after roadblock because there's nothing else, there is no good ending. i shouldn't be on the road to begin with.

[tcfkag]

2024 and the Return of the To-Done List

So, after a year during which (a) our daughter ran full-speed (literally) into the trying two's, (b) I had multi-focal pneumonia that resulted in a week or two in the hospital (including a brief sojourn in the ICU), (c) I had bizarre, seemingly inexplicable seizures for the first time ever [which meant I couldn't drive for six months...right after we moved to a semi-"rural" town...for the northeast that is], (d) had an acute kidney injury, (e) had several bouts of unexplained pitting edema in my legs, (f) started a new job that I actually really like, even if there is a steep learning curve, and (g) lost my Mom after a long battle with mild to moderate dementia/Alzheimer's that then dropped off a cliff into end-stage dementia in less than six months (depending on how you count it), and (h) just generally felt like I was never managing my physical or mental health as well as I could or should be, I'm going to try to make some changes. These aren't resolutions because I truly think that New Year's resolutions just set you up to fail. Instead, I'd call them goals. Or, at least, hope that I want to support with action as much as I can. While still giving myself grace knowing that I can and probably will mess up along the way. But, the first step is that I'm going to try to bring back a kind of journaling-like activity (since I suck at journaling) that my old therapist recommended when I was feeling like this before. Each day I make a list, generally on Tumblr for at least a tiny modicum of peer pressure, and I just make a list of everything I've done that day. No matter how big or how small. As she put it "make it your base assumption that each day, you will do absolutely nothing, so you get credit for everything, even things as simple as showering. I frequently restart these lists when my depression and anxiety have gotten bad enough that I know I'm not taking care of myself, mentally and physically, so a big part of my goals are (a) to move more [in whatever form that takes], (b) eating healthier, and (c) to take care of several medical/dental appointments that I've been putting off for way too long. The beauty of the list is that, a lot of the time, I ended up doing stuff BECAUSE of the list. So that I won't be staring at an empty page as I try to make my list each year.

Things I'm proud of today...so far:

when we took Peanut to the trampoline park to burn off some of her "no daycare today suckers" energy and this time, I bought a jump pass for myself. I only made it ~30 minutes but it was a great work-out. 10/10 would recommend.

I took the dogs for the "long" trail walk out to the back of our property,

I did a core and flexibility routine this morning,

I decided to take one for the team and point out to my Uncle that the nostalgia he feels about Aunt Jemimah as a syrup mascot isn't as important as the company making money off the likeness of a woman who died 100 years ago who was used as a stand in for the generic idea of what an enslaved (or recently freed) Black woman did or should do, and (finally)

this one is a few days late, but not only did we drive 12+ hours to visit my in-laws for Christmas, but we also stopped in NJ in both directions to pick up Monotasker's Aunt who is 80-years-old, hard of hearing, and in the early stages of dementia or Alzheimer's and I didn't even lose my shit at a single person...even the ones who deserved it.

Happy New Years everyone!

"May the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows." (Jason Mraz) And even if the worst of your todays are the best of your tomorrows, I hope you can still find your way out and through by the light of the moon to guide you.

[romeoisalesbian]

I'm not qualified to give mental health advice but something that legitimately helped me get out of the rotting lethargy of my cocktail of mental issues was to take a bunch of inconsequential activities I knew i usually enjoyed and slapping them on a wheel of fourtune style wheel and spinning it a few times each day. Like bam write a poem bam paint something bam write a nice letter to a friend bam go for a walk. and I gave myself imaginary points for each task so i made it possible to WIN.

Obviously this isn't a one size fits all solution -- I still struggled to motivate myself to do the wheel-mandated things-- and I certainly found it more doable when I paired it with actual other mental health treatment, but it helped me feel less like I was wasting my time or my days.

For me, a lot of my anxiety and my urges to do nothing but feel bad all day stemmed from issues with wasting my time and being so overwhelmed by what I should be doing that it was impossible to start. using my Dumbass Wheel kinda gave me permission to say that any task is porductive if I enjoy it or it gets me moving, and that was a whole big deal for me!

I also noticed that, over time, it became a lot easier to get some agency in what I wanted to do with my day. Sometimes I would spin the wheel and get something I absolutely didn't want to do, and I would think about what activity I wish I had spun and do that instead! For me, it almost gave me permission to WANT to do inconsequential, fun shit without all the guilt!

I don't know if this would be helpful for everyone, and I know this post is probably pretty obvious and honestly a little dull, but I felt like I should share because it has been a game changer for me and my cocktail of mental health issues

so anyways GAMERS GAMIFY YOUR MENTAL HEALTH MAKE DOING THINGS INTO A GAME THAT YOU CAN WIN

[phoeniix17]

I just want to help you

TITLE : I just want to help you

FANDOM : Supernatural

PAIRING : Dean x Reader (she) / Sam x Reader (platonic)

WORD COUNT : 1658

WARNING : ANGST, drinking, crying, vomit, slurs, mental health issues, using y/n

SUMMARY : when Dean drinks once more too much, you start to ask yourself if you will ever be able to help him. Are you enough?

Dean was never known to be the best model in the healthy lifestyle. He sure loved junk food and pie a little too much, but he also loved his bottle way more. And things were like that since I met them, and way before I entered their life. He told me a hundred time how much he hated his father for being a drunk mess, but Dean followed his steps, without is will, and he hated himself for that too. Most of the time, he was just drinking a little bit too much than what was considered normal, but he wasn’t drunk. But sometimes, when a hunt didn’t go well or we were losing for some reasons, he drank, he drank a lot, and he would collapse on the floor, unconscious. So the first one between me and Sam to find him would call the other and we’ll take care of him until he was feeling better. He would then act like nothing happened and I will not say anything because I knew that he was hating himself in the morning because his mess caused us trouble. I was always acting like nothing happened, and so did Sam.

But tonight, it was different. Sam left us alone in the bunker because he needed some alone time away from everything we were going through, and I couldn’t blame him. I was chilling in my room when suddenly, the bunker felt too quiet and I had this feeling in my guts that was screaming to go check on him. I almost ran in the corridors and my heart was beating so damn hard in my chest. And I found him, laying on the floor, a spilled bottle next to his hand, and him… Oh dear, he threw up and was covering of it.

- Dean, I said with a small broken voice. Do you hear me?

All I got was some inaudible mumblings. At least he was alive. I wanted to call Sam, but he needed some rest time too, so I decided to handle the thing by myself. I almost had to dragged him to the bathroom; thank God, he helped me a little bit by walking like he could. I took off his shirt and started cleaning him.

- If you wanted to see me naked, you just had to ask, he grumbled. - Dean, you threw up… I said with an accusing tone. - Oh shit… I-um, I’ll take care of it, he said almost falling down. - Yeah, no way. Now shut up and let me do my job, I warned him.

He shut his mouth and sat on the edge of the bathtub and let me clean him up. Thank for me, his pants were still clean, so I didn’t have to wash him completely. Once he was all fresh, I helped him to go in his bedroom and brought him so water for the headache.

- You didn’t have to do that, he said with a clearer voice. - Yeah, and let you drown in your own vomit? Not on my watch, I spat back. - Maybe that’s what I deserved, maybe- he started. - Shut up Dean! Really, shut your fucking mouth, I stopped him.

And he remained silent, looking at me. I never insulted him like that, ever. But I was tired too. I was tired of losing people and mostly tired to see him destroy himself and I couldn’t do anything. Each time I tried to help, he just pushed me away and drank his emotions.

- Now go to sleep, I’ll watch over you until Sam comes home, I said with teary eyes. - Yes mam, he said with a small voice.

He didn’t took him long to fall asleep, and I cried so much that I felt asleep too.

----

In the morning, it’s Sam who woke me up. He offered me some fresh coffee in the kitchen.

- No need to ask what happened ? he said with a small voice. - Yeah, you know him better than me, I said with puffy eyes. - I should have been there, you should have call me Y/N… he said with shame. - No, you needed your time off too, I said with a smile. - You too, probably more than me, he said cupping my cheek.

I jumped into his arms, and we hugged for what felt like eternity, but it felt so damn nice. But when he started rubbing my back, that was when I lost it and started crying again.

- You have no idea how much I love him Sam, but- it’s like he doesn’t see it. I care so damn much about him, I’m trying my best to help him, I swear, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t help him, and it’s killing me more than everything else, I said crying my heart out. - He loves you too, I promise, but you know him, he won’t admit anything because he’s scared that he will hurt you. And you’re doing your best, there’s nothing else you can do, he’s like that and no one except you can change him, and you already did so much. Now it’s time for you to take some rest, he murmured to me.

He offered me some tissues and brought me to my room. Sam was the sweetest soul on this planet, and I was blessed to have him as my best friend. He was always so caring and loving. After that, I felt asleep. But when I woke up, it must have been late in the afternoon, because Dean was up too, and talking with his brother. In fact, it was more of an argument than a conversation.

- Do you realize what you did? Spoke Sam. - Yeah Sam, I’m pretty aware, thank you, Dean spat back. - Do you realize what Y/N had to do yesterday? She had to carry your drunk body to the bathroom, to clean you? Do you realize that she loves you Dean? And that your comportment his slowly killing her because she feels like she isn’t enough for you and that she isn’t doing enough for you to be happy. Wake up man! You have the sweetest girl in earth at your feet and you are treating her like a slut, no, even worst than a slut! He screamed with those hard words.

The tears were slowly coming up in my eyes again.

- You don’t have the right to use these words! I already told you to stop messing with me about her. She doesn’t love me, she just cares about us, that’s it! He answered back. - For God’s sake Dean, when I’m telling you that this morning she came to me and burst into tears telling me how much she loved you and that she wished she could do more to help you. She even said “I can’t help him, and it’s killing me more than everything else” word for word Dean, she fucking loves you with her whole heart, he said again. - I- really? Dean asked with a very small voice I barely heard. - Yeah Dean, now take your fucking balls in your hands, and when she’s up, go apologize to her. She deserves more than cleaning your mess Dean, she’s the only one who stuck around, show her some love, he said before leaving the room.

My heart was beating again so damn fast. I was going to have a heart attack someday. I heard him coming my way and I wanted to act like I was sleeping but I couldn’t ran away this time, because it was the only moment we had to talk about this, so I opened the door and acted like I just woke up and didn’t hear anything at all.

- Oh, hey Dean, feeling better ? I asked with a smile. - Hi, um, yeah, much better, thank you again, you shouldn’t have- thank you, he said.

I smiled, happy that he wasn’t saying something like he didn’t deserve that much or something among those lines, because I wasn’t sure that my broken heart could handle that without crying. So I kept walking.

- Y/N? Can- can we talk for a moment ? he asked me behind my back.

I froze a moment; I wasn’t sure i could handle this conversation right now. But then, I remembered. He. Loves. You. so I turned back, and we went into my room. It was super awkward at first, because I was waiting for him to talk, but he wasn’t feeling super courageous.

- Listen, for yesterday I- I completely fucked up. And I’m sorry you had to be the one witnessing everything and had to take care of me. You didn’t had to, but still you did it. And I know that no apologize will ever forgive this pathetic behaviour of me, but I still wanted to apologize, he said. - I’m not mad at you Dean, and of course, apologizes are accepted, I’m just- worried. I care about you a lot, and it feels like you’re just falling apart, and neither Sam nor I are able to do something, but I want to help, just tell me what I can do, I begged him. - I’m scared that there isn’t much you can do Darling, he said cupping my cheek. Just stay with us and I promise you that things will get better, he said to me.

I wanted to say something but choose to just hug him, it was the best thing to do at that moment, and it felt extra nice to have him against me.

- I’m sorry that I made you cry Sweetheart; you deserve better than that. I hope that I can put a smile on those beautiful lips soon, he whispered to me.

And that asshole made me smile.

[lemonadesoda]

For the OC ask!

Tev: 10, 26, and E!

Nanami: 3, 31, and H!

Lemel: 8, 29, and G!

Thanks Rose!

Tevane

10. What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

He is most likely to lie to his parents or sometimes his boss lmfao, though he prefers lies by omission or downplay rather than blatant untruths because there's more plausible deniability so uhh probably his most frequent lies were things like "Work is too busy, I haven't had a chance to visit or keep in touch" when his mom would bitch to him about coming home for family events. Not exactly *untrue* in that he technically could have taken leave for things but he never did, for personal reasons or otherwise. Does it haunt him? Not explicitly, but it shows in his shit awful mental health so-

26. What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Spaceship! Especially if personally piloting. He looks and acts like an accountant but turns into a specific type of Car Guy while piloting a ship.

E. Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

It's a tough question. I think I would like hanging out with him if I managed to get past his shell and if he acted like himself, but unlike Lemel, I'm probably not nosy enough to get there and neither is he, so we would pass each other like ships in the night. On the flip side, I think he would appreciate my good time management and attention to detail but would be ultimately kind of understimulated lol I don't think I'm insane enough for him. Our worksonas would NOT get along however! Captain mode is an uptight bitch LOL

Nana!! Yeah let's talk about Nana!

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

She likes when Tevane reads to her. I can totally see her digging like Tamora Pierce or something. She loves hero stories and chosen ones and creative worldbuilding ideas.

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

Hmm, this is sort of hard to answer since I haven't figured out the full plot of her story yet, but nominally I'll say Tev and Lemel in her main story because those are the strongest relationships she has and her family of choice etc. I suppose it's valid to say because the story does partly revolve around her realizing they are the people she's most glad to know.

H. What trait do you admire most?

Her creativity and vision! Can be a bit pie in the sky about things, but not everything can be driven by pure rationality and it's important to dream big and paint with bold bright strokes.

Lemel

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Stop taking things apart (did not stop this, just figured out how to put the things back together). Stop walking out of class just because you don't agree with the teacher (reluctantly stopped this).

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Ooh, this question would make them fidget. I think they're not personally sure. Deep down, they're a bit insecure about whether they do what they do because of a strong sense of ideals or if it's all just selfishness with a thick coating of justification. From an outside perspective though, I think they're doing as well as any person could in terms of living authentically. No one is ever going to match up to what their personal vision of a perfect person acts like but I think some people are far more consistent with their own values than others and I think Lemel is one of them. They believe in fairness and freedom for everyone, that everyone should be empowered to live their best life and that inherently means no one should be able to restrict others' empowerment. So they instinctively rebel against things that impinge upon autonomy and personhood.

G. What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

Like as a person? I think they're too overbearing of a personality for someone like me who really doesn't like chaos. Like I can see myself finding them annoying LKDJSFLJD but they're not Bad with people so they might read the room okay and be more chill and we could talk about science. On a meta level, nothing really bugs me about them, I feel like their flaws are important to their character and I like them better for having them and for being complicated and a bit bitchy and a bit of a disaster at times.

[ilaiyayaya]

I Am So Mad rn frfr

I hate that my mental health always takes a massive drop around this time of the year. The worst part is like, it's not even like normal seasonal depression, I like fall and winter and like as soon as Christmas is done I'm fine again for the rest of the winter months. But god I fucking can't take having to see my family like once every week or 2 for a full 3 months from the start of October to the end of December because there's always either a holiday or one of their birthday's. At least I narrowly avoided one of the 2 worst days, Thanksgiving, because I had work as an excuse 🎉🎉🎉 unfortunately I don't have work on Christmas and because I avoided them for Thanksgiving I am going to be hearing shit over that on top of the normal things that make me want to die. I am actually at my fucking limit of dealing with these people, the last time I saw them I got extremely close to having a meltdown and fighting my uncle. If I hear a single fucking thing this time about my fucking hair, or my ear-piercing, or my job, or the way I fucking walk, or if one of them say I look like a [REDACTED] because of any of those things I'm gonna fucking lose it. I fucking hate my entire dad's side of my family and I can't fucking escape them in my current situation and yet my mom's side of my family is mostly great and I don't have a problem with a majority of them, unfortunately I haven't been able to talk to any of them in several years and trying to get in contact with any of them would give an easy way for my mother to find me which would potentially put my life in danger so yea that's cool.

At least after Christmas I'll be done with them for a while so just 1 more week and it'll all be over, and as long as I'm out of my father's house by this time next year, which there's no reason why I shouldn't be aside from my own incompetence (which is a really big obstacle, I can't do shit right), I won't have to see any of them ever again. Just 1 more week 1 more week only 1 more I can do it I'll live no more holidays after that I can survive 1 week surely I won't go on a psychotic rampage within that little amount of time.

AND last night someone I haven't talked to in like 6 months randomly messaged me on Discord minutes before I was about to go to sleep wanting to call, and I regrettably said sure. This was like 5 hours before I was supposed to go to work too and the entire like 2 hours he had me trapped in the call I was just desperately trying to find an excuse out (even tho I literally had a very valid excuse of having work the next morning) and of course I did not get a single moment of sleep afterwards because it was too late by the time I got out and was tired af the entire day (I have still not slept since then because I am very smart and take very good care of myself and always get sufficient sleep and I have work again in 6 hours).

The call itself was completely fucking miserable too, there is a reason I haven't talked to this person in 6 months and absolutely should not have agreed to talk but I suck and can't say no to anything ever. Immediately like 1 minute in they start telling me about how they think some girl at a bookstore they go to is flirting with them, which like, on it's own, if it was actually happening, like that's fine, whatever, cool, but then the snowball really starts when he mentions her age as "probably in her early 20s" (he's like, at least 35 (which again, normally I don't care, fine on it's own)), and I blanked out really fucking hard for 90% of that call so I don't even remember everything he said about her after that, but I do remember him progressively changing her age as he kept talking to "probably 20" then "at least 18" and then after that kinda implying but not outright stating that she's possibly not even 18. This entire time I was pretty much not saying a word except like "yea" and "uh-huh" and like other completely meaningless responses, so it just felt like he was having an internal debate with himself over whether he should try to go after this potentially underaged retail worker except instead of it being internal it was out loud, to me. What's fucking worse is the conclusion he came to was that like, he "doesn't really care about how others perceive him at this point" in reference to trying to hit on this probably underage retail worker. I feel really bad for that bookstore clerk she probably literally was just trying to do a job that she has to do and now this creep thinks she's into him. AAAAAAAAAA AND I'M THE FUCKING WORST BECAUSE THE ENTIRE TIME THE MOST I SAID WAS LIKE "yea I probably wouldn't do that, but like it's your life I can't stop you" INSTEAD OF TAKING A HARD STANCE AND JUST SAYING OUTRIGHT TO FUCK OFF AND DIE.

After they finally finished being the biggest creep I have had to talk to in months they just started talking about a bunch of random games they'd been playing, and they got really hung up on Baldur's Gate 3 specifically, they fuckin' hate it. I should preface this part with, I have mentioned to this person once in the past that I am nonbinary and trans and they were kinda weird about it then and I just didn't ever bring it up after that, but they still definitely knew unless they just forgot. So like, idk anything about Baldur's Gate, or D&D as a whole, but I've heard 3 is good, and so when he first brought it up I said "I haven't played it but I have literally only heard good things about it" big mistake, this instantly led to him listing off every issue he had with the game, specifically it's writing, and how much he hates that they added the ability to choose your pronouns because it's a classic fantasy game and pronoun choice doesn't make sense in a D&D-style fantasy world (even though I thought like the entire point of D&D was making your own character whatever the fuck you want it to be). He also really didn't like that you can be in a polyamorous relationship in 3 and brought up an example of like, some character in 2 would never be in a poly relationship, and if you chose them as your partner they would probably kill you if you tried going out with anyone else, but like, that character isn't in 3 as far as I'm aware, and also like, just because it wasn't in 2 doesn't mean they can't add it in 3, actually that was like the crux of most of his points he just really didn't like anything that was even slightly different than Baldur's Gate 2. Also side note but that character he brought up from 2 I do not remember the name of at all and every single time he brought her up he was like "surely you know her, you've definitely seen her there's tons of rule 34 of her" sorry but no I haven't seen the porn of a random character that I didn't even know existed and I don't know why you assume I have. Anyways now I have a reason to play Baldur's Gate 3 and never touch Baldur's Gate 1 or 2 entirely out of spite.

I don't know why the fuck he just randomly wanted to talk to me and have these specific fucking conversations with me of all people but now I've had to spend the last 20 hours thinking about how much that call pissed me off so that's fun. God I fucking wish I had some basic fucking social ability to tell someone to fuck off without worrying about, literally nothing, just completely nebulous anxiety, I had literally no reason not to just leave the call and tell him not to message me again as soon as he started being weird BECAUSE I DON'T ACTUALLY FUCKING GIVE A SHIT HOW SOMEONE WHO IS THAT MUCH OF A PIECE OF SHIT REACTS TO ME TELLING THEM TO SHUT UP WHY THE FUCK AM I LIKE THIS AAAAAAAAA I'M JUST FUCKING BLOCKING HIM NOW LIKE I SHOULD HAVE LAST NIGHT AAAAAAAAA. At least in this case I can just easily block him and be done with it, I'm not friends with anyone he knows anymore and I already hadn't been talking to him but like, ugh.

[cow-legs]

Of course it does feel a little silly to make big update posts about how im burned out and am trying to take a break from drawing right in the middle of a time where im uploading new art more relatively consistently than i have in a very long time it feels like but i guess it was still important to make the distinction, between things that i enjoy drawing and can keep doing vs things i dont enjoy doing at all and need to stop immediately, just for my own sake.

Openly telling people "yuuup i'm not going to be drawing anything other than super basic shit from now on for a long time" means that whenever i think of drawing anything post-worthy i know i will feel silly for posting it after saying that, and from there if i still decide to go through with it anyway it was probably something i actually wanted to draw and enjoyed doing while if this thought made me self conscious enough to not go through with it then it was probably something i wanted to draw only due to impulsive obligation rather than something i wanted to spend time making just for the fun of doing it so the spell gets broken. So its a functional enough system, i guess.

&now that this distinction has been made in my brain i can spend more time doing shit i actually enjoy instead of letting it get beaten out by the things i "should" be working on every time

Putting my foot down and going "no, i am not going to keep forcing myself to do detailed clean lineart on even more detailed sketches when i get much more enjoyment out of just doing really rough and simple shit instead" after i have found myself independently coming to realizations about what kinds of art just suck the life out of me over and over again and then just disregarding these realizations every single time to go back to the shit that kills me because "well this is how you normally do it" or "this technically looks nicer, in some aspects" and finally just fucking forcing myself to stop doing that is probably overall more helpful to my mental health than just forcing myself to stop drawing altogether when thats a drastic move that may or may not be the actual solution. Now i am finding and re-learning ways to create things that don't make me feel like i am a walking corpse so i think i will take the feeling of thinking i look a little silly for seemingly disregarding my big life updates over never having found these things out for myself at all any day.

I don't really know why i feel like making update posts in the first place when to be honest i dont think it really matters, people arent paying me for any of this and i stopped feeling "sorry" for "not posting enough" or such things as that a long time ago so it's not like i feel any kind of legitimate need to tell people about what my status is creative-wise. But i guess a large part of it is just that i like talking and have a lot of things to say but for various personal reasons have no desire to post 99% of these thoughts publicly so it's the like rare chance i get to actually start saying shit on any of my art accounts that is actually relevant to the subject at hand without crossing my own boundaries and saying more than i am comfortable with

It is a little weird feeling writing update posts though because i dont really know how to word them in any way that doesnt come off as a fanfic authors note going "sorry its been a whole 20 minutes since the last update i got mugged and all my money was stolen and he broke my leg also but im trying my best to write more despite this" like girl focus on the mugging not this shit. When in reality i actually dont care very much about providing Content as much as the hypothetical fanfic author i just felt the need to say something because why not and didnt know how to word it in a way that makes me not come off like that. which is how you get this i guess. anyway i already forgot what the point of this post was i guess i just wanted to say some shit. which tracks i suppose.

The moral of the story or some shit i guess is that even if you are not doing art as a job it can still end up feeling like one and killing your creative spirit like one would and you need to be able to identify when this is happening and what things you dont actually want to create even though you feel like you "should" so you can kill these practices before they kill you

or something like that

I dont really care about having a point here i wrote this at 2 am

i just like talking

[gossipgorlhere]

I stole adderall from a pharmacy I worked in

When I was 17 in my senior year of highschool I worked as a cashier at the front cash in a pharmacy. Near the end of every shift I was responsible for emptying all of the garbages in the storefront, pharmacy and in the back area where merchandise was stored. I never worked in the actual pharmacy area, though every shift I would have to enter it to obviously take out the garbage as well as store my cash from the register into the safe.

When I first got the job, say September of the previous year, one of my friends who used to work there started telling me about how the security cameras didn't actually work, and that the alarms at the front doors didn't go off if someone was stealing. I didn't think much of this at the time because I wasn't really the type of kid/teen to get into trouble..

One day in March or April when I was taking out the garbage at the end of my shift, I went into the back of the pharmacy and saw that the cabinet beside trash can was open. I was slowly changing the garbage bag and kept glancing at the bottles of pills labeled "Adderall XR 20mg, 100 pills". I guess I just let my intrusive thoughts take over because I grabbed a bottle and took it with me as I put the garbage into the dumpster out back of the store. I hid this bottle in my "manbag" (I was big into dressing for success in highschool, though my family is low-middle class, my image was "preppy") and walked through the alarms without anything going off.. I was home free.

The next day I woke up for school at 6am and took a pill. I started abusing Adderall for the next few months, my grades went from an 85 average (Canadian) to a 94 average and I graduated with honors. I always hid this bottle in the leather satchel bag (manbag is the word I got shit on with for having it), and would take it with me everywhere I went. My family never found out. I was probably a completely different person on Adderall, but nobody questioned it.. I always felt like a side character in life even before this.

I ended up stealing another bottle, 30mg, some point after graduating and spent the summer in mania with a friend, abusing Adderall and alcohol.. hell, I probably should have died from this; I was sometimes taking 100mg of Adderall at 10am, then would proceed to drink absurd amounts of alcohol the same night.. I was a mess, and I was also so uneducated yet lucky because I didn't even realize the psychotic episodes when they were happening - blacking out everytime I drank, walking home from parties in this state sometimes 4 hours or more. Everyone around me loved it apparently; my humiliation when blackout drunk was entertaining to them, so I guess I was at least still a nice guy?

I continued taking these pills when I went to college. Life was great at the time, apparently, from what I can remember at least. Then the colleges went on strike for a month and I was basically living on college residence with no classes, just partying everyday. I took absurd amounts of Adderall, up to 150mg at a time.. I dropped out of college 2.5 months into the semester since I ran out of pills and the withdrawals hit.. I don't remember too much of this as my brain was fried from the drugs, though I did use my last $500 to buy my first guitar and basically saved myself from suicide by spending every waking hour teaching myself to play it when I moved back home.

Fast forward to now.. I'm 24. I heavily regret this as I'm dealing with mental health issues, basically no recollection of my life before I was 19, and still go to the same pharmacy every month to get my prescription.. I never got caught or questioned about what happened. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 18, after all this happened. Again, I probably should've died or ended up in jail at minimum.. sometimes I even question if getting caught or snitched on would've been better for me.

[visible-buttholegirl]

life update rant

using tumblr dot com as my mental and emotional dumping grounds once again, this time a slightly more positive rant than the majority of what i puke up here.

i got my license a week or so ago! so happy that's over, i was so anxious leading up to it but i feel like a confident and calm driver, and next on the list is buying a car. i have gotten a second job serving a couple nights a week in addition to my dreaded day job and it has allowed me to save money a lot faster, so i could conceivably have a car before this year's end! that would be so so sick, and the freedom that affords me will feel so good. i could run solo errands on my time, take way less ubers, pick up friends, go on camping trips or road trips when i want to, drive thrus, groceries and not walk them, etc etc! that will be so hot of me to have a car.

having a car will also allow me to leave my current day job and move on to the next chapter of my work life 🤢 which will have many more options available to me as a person with a car. i mentioned not knowing what i wanted to do yet last time, and that uncertainty remains. my ever-supportive parents continue to send me graphic design gigs to apply to, but many of my friends think i would be happier doing more service industry stuff (probably because i've been telling them i think i'd be happier there), but of course my indecisive brain does not allow me a moment of peace and assuredness. i am once again sitting at the crossroads of my life wondering what i should do after leaving my job. i will probably keep serving at my other job, but that will not be enough for me. not gonna continue thinking about this right now but i will have to think about it later.

some secondary focuses in my life right now are my health/fitness, and my creative outlet/learning new things. i have slowly started eating better and trying to get to the gym when i can, and its felt really great mostly, but i have to do better. i am trying to be patient with myself but not lazy. i know it feels good to be healthy and active, and i want that for myself. so when i feel like i have more time i will work harder on that. as for creative stuff, i want to do more visual art, though my main interest is in music production. i see so many people making the music i want to make, having a persona, aesthetic, a vibe, and living and creating within that, and i want that for myself as well. i have so many ideas for this kind of stuff in my brain, i just don't currently have the know-how to put pen to paper. once the car is sorted out and maybe the job schedule is a little more set in stone too i will come back to this. i just don't feel like i have a ton of time to focus on it, and again, i want to give myself a little grace because i am very busy lately and i think working decently hard to make other positive changes in my life.

lastly, i'm still single and jealous of my not-single/sexually active friends, and i need to be better about putting myself out there because this whole time its always been there if i wanted it, and i do want it, but i just never felt confident in myself enough to go for it. all of these positive changes in my life will boost my confidence and over time i will slowly try to be more proactive and confident! i deserve it and i can have it. the past is the past but i can change the future.

i have lofty goals of being and feeling a hot, confident, talented and traveled individual who above all else is HAPPY. i have dreams of creating art and music that resonates with people and performing it and hopefully putting that more at the forefront of my life than "work". maybe 2023 didn't shake out the way i hoped but i feel like i'm seriously laying the groundwork for some big stuff in 2024. i feel like when i'm in a good mood i always say shit like this and the last three years have not been as life-changing as i wanted but i do think i've made some moves in that direction for once, and a big change is a shift in personal motivation that i know can blossom into self-confidence and overall happiness. these are the things i'm going to try and focus on moving forward. rant over.

[callmeghoulshit]

Genuinely wtf do I do with myself man.

I rolled my ankle and it went crack at work. (I have shit ankles but they ain't ever gone crack before)

My supervisor asked if I wanted to go home and suggested I go to the hospital to make sure I didn't seriously injure it and to see if I could work the weekend.

Hospital gave me the okay but said it could take up to 5 days to sort itself.

It hurt seriously bad that night and I couldn't walk so the next morning I told my Head that I couldn't work this whole weekend. I'm a housekeeper, we're very active, we carry heavy shit, we're incredibly busy on weekends. My best friend told me not to in case I fucked myself up. I didn't wanna be awkward and say I *could* come in but then not be able to so I said I couldn't come in, I know damn well we have a girl who can cover me.

However I woke up the next morning and it was already feeling better, I was just limping everywhere.

And today I can walk but it's just stiff.

So the fact that I said I couldn't work but I probably can right now is making me so guilty, especially with the money I'm missing out on.

My Head housekeeper is all arsey with me, the fact that the hospital didn't give me any paperwork probably isn't working in my favour.

And I've just been told that I'm in some shit at work now, they think I'm faking it to skive off work, and I've got a meeting with my head housekeeper when I go back.

Oh also I'll be going back in with freshly cut and dyed hair cuz my best friend stayed with me all day after the hospital (she skived lmao) and asked if she could do it for me. But it isn't gonna look very fucking good to them. I was supposed to be unable to walk but my hair is different.

My maladaptive character Tyler made a good point and said that my work colleagues aren't my family and it shouldn't matter what they think but damn I feel so guilty and stupid and dramatic especially with how the pain and swelling went literally overnight.

I thought I'd be okay cuz I don't actually skive but I just realised how much my Supervisor takes me home from work early when I have bad mental health days.

My Head housekeeper is an arse though, from the start. The first day she met me, after I finished my shift she said to my supervisor "do you think she should have to cover her arms" because I have SH scars. Knobhead, I can't fucking stand her.

[lianahayze]

Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 14

Masterlist

Nothing to say; let's get to it!

Chapter 14. Then... nothing

With it being common for celebrities to seek treatment, there is little surprise at seeing the twenty-two-year-old rockstar turn herself in. Her father, lead singer of the 90s alt-band The Nixers, did his own stint in rehab for a slew of drugs, including heroin. It is unknown why she checked herself in, but according to its website, the Garver Institute “specializes in alcohol and drug addictions.” At the time of publication, Shadow Greere has declined to comment.

Bottle pressed to my lips, I chug. The more I drink, the more I can forget. And boy am I trying to forget.

The article came out yesterday, and I can’t even begin to guess how many times I've already read it. It starts out great. There is a piece about the new studio, a section about how I want the band to go our own way. But then Garver was brought up and it got real bad real fast.

The pictures are slightly grainy and had clearly been taken at a distance. However, they're not grainy enough for me to even pretend that that it’s not me. Everything in the pictures give it away: my hair, the clothes I'm wearing, a general scowl. All of it is one hundred percent me, and anyone is going to be able to tell.

The guys have seen it. I’m certain they have. They've called me a couple of times, but I haven't picked up. I'd rather wallow in self-pity. Dean’s not big on social media, so he probably hasn’t seen it yet. Always a day or two beyond, I have some time before he finds it. Either way, I'm fucked.

I did not want this to get out. I'd been hoping I could just sweep it under the rug and be done with it. Continuing to meet with Dr. Norris is fine, but having all of my dirty laundry aired out for anyone to see? No, it's an absolute nightmare.

I should have said something to Larissa. I could have made up any bullshit excuse. Hell, I could have said I was visiting or even fucking volunteering and that last paragraph would sound completely different. But, instead, I'd freaked out. I’d done this to myself.

I stop drinking for a moment. I haven't binged like this in a while and my body knows it. There's going to be hell to pay in a few hours, but, right now, I don’t care. Right now, I desperate to forget.

I switch to another bottle. It's new and takes me several seconds to open. I sway before I finally break the seal. The bottle firmly attached to my mouth, I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Though I don't plan on staying in here, I turn on the TV. I need noise. The silence in the house is killing me. I turn up the volume before tossing the remote onto the couch. I walk out into the hallway.

Ugh, has there ever been a time when I haven't fucked something up? Maybe that's why the guys wanted me to put away: not because I'm a danger, but because I'm such a massive fuck up. I get it now.

I go upstairs. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I crawl into bed. I almost drop the bottle in my hand but catch it at the last moment. I continue drinking from it, chugging so quickly that it makes my brain hurt.

Everyone is going to be talking shit about me. Even more than they already do. I can't face the internet right now, but part of me is curious. I need to know what they're saying, and I need to know what I'm up against. I'm not the first celebrity whose mental health issues have been exposed, but it still hurts. I’ve been reduced to a headline and a cheap article?

My phone dings but I don't bother checking it. I want to smoke a joint. I want to smoke and drink and pass out. I don't know where my purse is, though, and that's where all my weed is. Is probably in the room somewhere, but I don't care enough to try to find it. Instead, I just keep drinking.

My phone goes off again. I follow the light from the screen, reaching across the bed to grab it. I squint as I look down.

Oh, I have missed calls. And a lot of texts. It's a good thing I have all my notifications turned off for social media because that would probably be blowing up my phone now too.

I look at the text notifications but don't actually open the messages. Most of them are from the guys, but, as I expected, there's nothing from Dean. Good. I should reach out to him and just tell him myself, but I don't think I'm going to. After all, I already had my chance to tell him; instead, I’d spent the entire time complaining about the band.

I check the calls. Most of them are from Wyatt. He's called me five times in total, the last one coming just a few minutes ago when I'd been downstairs deciding which liquor to get into. Maybe they’ve decided that he's the one who’s going to fire me.

I go through my texts from him. There are a lot of them with just one or two words, but it's the last one that really catches me off-guard.

About 5 mins away. At your house soon.

I stare at it. Not trusting my eyes, I read over it again, but still don’t think it’s right. There’s no way he’s trying to come see me right now.

Putting the bottle on the floor, I text him back:

Not here.

I stare down at the screen. A second later he says,

Yeah u are. Pulling up your street

I frown. Seriously, can't this wait until tomorrow?

Knowing that my front door's locked, I decide to get comfortable. He won't be able to talk to me if he can't get in, and there's no way I'm answering the door.

My phone goes off again. I groan and read.

He's here. Great. Just great.

When I don't respond, he sends,

Open the front door.

I huff. I don't want to talk to him; is that really so hard to understand?

Busy.

No you're not. Open the door.

Not interested.

Shadow, don't make me call the cops. I NEED to see that you're okay.

I bolt up. If he calls the cops, I’ll be back at Garver in a heartbeat, only this time it probably won’t be so easy to get out. "Fuck’s sake," I mutter, "fine." Standing up, I drop my phone on the pillow, pick the bottle back up, and slowly head downstairs.

Wyatt's finger is firmly on the doorbell when I answer. He looks down at me, surprised. I move out of the way, letting him in.

He shuts the door behind himself. "You're drinking right now?" he asks, louder than he needs to be. "Shadow, what the hell are you doing?"

"Feeling sorry for myself." I smile up at him. Feeling light on my feet, I lean against the wall. "Throwing myself a party. Whatever you want to call it, but you weren't invited."

"So, you know about the article then?"

"Hmm."

"I can't believe they printed that without telling you." When I tell him that I knew, he gasps. "You just let them?"

"No. But I didn't tell them no."

He stares at me. I can tell that he knows he in over his head and doesn't know what to do. Pissed off, angry Shadow he can deal with; pitiful pathetic Shadow he cannot.

I take another drink.

"Can you... Can you not do that right now?" He yanks the bottle from my hand. Some of the vodka spills onto the floor, causing me to say,

"Hey! Stop making a mess!"

He walks into the kitchen. I follow behind but it takes a while because my legs feel like jelly. When I finally do get to him, he's opening up all the cabinets, saying, "Where's all your booze?" I giggle. "Fuck, Shadow, I'm serious. Now is not the time to go on a bender."

"Oops." Seeing him freak out makes me laugh. It's actually very funny. Him and the other guys have been trying to control my narrative for so long and he's panicking now that he can't. It's the ultimate karma.

He walks over to me. I'm swaying as I look up at him, and he puts his hands on my arms. As he steadies me, I realize I don’t want to be standing up; laying down would be so much better.

"How much did you drink?" he says. It's a good question, but I don't answer. He gives me a slight shake. "Shadow. How much?"

He's acting like he's never seen me drunk before, but nothing could be further from the truth. How many late nights did we have after concerts, passing around bottle after bottle? I have a pretty good tolerance, but he could drink me under the table. Maybe I'm not the one who should have gone to Garver.

"You're not supposed to drink when you're depressed."

Depressed? Who said anything about being depressed? I am finnnnnne.

"Have you still been drinking and doing drugs this entire time?"

Holding back a laugh, I say, "My body, my choice."

"This is not a joke! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"My doctor thinks I'm not a danger, and we can trust my doctor. Right? After all, everyone wanted me to go see one. Remember?"

Leading me over to the table, he sighs. He tried to get me to sit in one of the chairs, but I instead choose the floor. "We wanted you to see a doctor because we were worried about you. Your cocaine habit has gone through the roof." Then, almost so quietly that I can't hear, he adds, "Apparently we should have been more worried about your drinking."

Having been kneeling in front of me, he stands back up. Continuing to go through my cabinets, he says, "We already spoke with the label. As soon as we saw it, we got on the phone with them. We wanted you to join the conversation, but you never answered your phone." He looks over his shoulder at me. "Now I can see why."

He's judging me and I can't decide whether to let it go or complain about it. Stomach pressed against the tile, I spread out on the floor like a starfish. It gets uncomfortable really quick, though, and I flip to my back. The sudden motion makes the contents of my stomach slosh around.

"I don't know what to do with you." I look over at him. "We want you to get better. When we rescheduled that interview, we thought..." I see him shake his head. "I know it's important for you--We know talking about the band is important to you." He pauses. "Even if the spread was entirely about you."

"So, you're not mad about the studio?"

He shakes his head, and I'm surprised. This is the most honest conversation we've had in a while without yelling. I should say something but can’t come up with anything.

"We just want to know what was wrong with your dad's studio, but other than that it's fine."

"Too many bad memories. Can't go there anymore."

"Because we told you that you needed help?"

"And cornered me with a doctor." I turn onto my other cheek so that I'm facing away from him. "It wasn't fair."

I hear him sigh, but he doesn't say anything. I hear the heels of his boots walking across the tile, coming towards me. A few seconds later, arms crossed, he stands over me. I don't move but look up at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Look," he says, "you can be pissed about it. I get that you're pissed about it. But we tried to bring it up before and you just weren't listening."

I frown. "No, you never brought it up."

"Yes. We did. Several times. You might have just been high, and we couldn’t tell. But we did bring it up."

He walks away, leaving on my own. I wonder if what he's said is true. Had they actually mentioned it before? If they had, why don't I remember it? And if he was right and I had been high, what does that say about me?

It means I have a problem.

Standing up, I go over to the counter. Wyatt's placed the bottle of vodka that I'd had earlier by the sink. I look around but don't see him. I'm not sure where he's gone, but, not wanting to wait for him to return, I pick up the bottle, bring it to my lips, and drink. I'm so engrossed in getting as much alcohol in my system as possible that I don't hear him return until,

"Shadow!" He yanks the bottle away. Before I can stop him, he tips it upside down and the vodka pours down the sink.

"Hey!" I start to reach for it, but he holds me back.

"Do not try my patience right now."

He's being obnoxious; why won’t he let me have a little fun?

"Why are you even here?" I ask him. "I didn't ask you to come." Plus, I'd been doing fine on my own. I'd been enjoying sitting in the dark; it made my head hurt less.

"I'm here to take care of you, apparently, because you weren't answering your phone."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I beg to differ. When did you eat last?"

I frown. "Why, do I look fat, or something?"

"You've never looked fat a day in your life." He sounds annoyed as he speaks. "But you need to eat." I tell him I'm not hungry. "I don't care," he replies. "You need food in your system."

"Usually, I just do cocaine when I'm hungry." He looks at me like I'm crazy. "What? I don't have to stop what I'm doing to eat, and it keeps me in shape." He gives me a look over. "Duh."

"Shadow, when people talk about ‘getting in shape,’ that’s not code for developing a drug habit."

He goes to open the fridge, but he won't have much to work with. I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, so everything that's in there is probably at least a few weeks old.

"Wow, slim pickin’s around here, huh?" He closes the fridge. Pulling out his phone, he says, "What do you want to eat? I'm going to have Ethan stop."

"Stop where?"

"Stop at the store or get takeout. He's on his way over here. So is Dave."

My heart stops. They're coming over here, too? Right now? I shake my head in disbelief. "Tell them not to come."

"They're already on their way."

I continue to shake my head. "No! I do not need a fucking intervention in my own home!" I'm panicking, ready to kick or punch him.

He puts his hands up, saying, "Shadow, we're not trying to intervene on anything. We're just checking on you."

But I don't believe it.

Abruptly turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen. Well, I storm out the best I can. My legs are wobbly and my head is spinning and my breathing is shallow, but I storm off. Wyatt calls for me, but I ignore him. Maybe if I barricade myself in my room before the other two get here, they'll eventually just give up and leave. Can't have an intervention if they can't see me.

I stumble into my room. I press my body against the door for a moment, blinking slowly. Why is the room spinning? Doing my best to disregard the movements, I lock the door and go straight over to my bed.

I fall onto it face first. It’s pretty comfortable, so I don't move. It's only when I realize that I'm having trouble breathing that I shift onto my side.

My stomach doesn't feel so great. When I rub my hands over my middle, it only makes it worse. I close my eyes and groan. I curl up and lay like that for who knows how long. It's probably just a couple of seconds, but it's enough for me almost to fall asleep.

The only reason I don't is because of a loud thump at the door.

"Shadow! Unlock the door!"

I cover my ears. Why is he shouting? Doesn't he know it's making me feel even worse?

Wyatt keeps pounding on the door. "I seriously just came over here to check on you! The other guys just want to check on you too. We're not kicking you out of the band or whatever other conspiracy theory you have in your head."

If I do have any conspiracy theories, it's because they put them there.

"Seriously. You don't need to be alone right now."

He's wrong. Being alone is exactly what I need.

I continue to try my best to ignore him. He makes it hard, though, and I eventually grab onto a pillow, pressing it over my head. It makes my skull hurt, but I'd rather feel that than listen to Wyatt.

Eventually, though, the pounding stops. I pull down the pillow and look cautiously over at the door. I sit up; there's complete silence. Being as quiet as I can, I get out of bed and tiptoe over to the door. I lean forward and listen, but still, I hear nothing.

Maybe he's just pretending he's not there anymore to trick me into opening the door. "Wyatt?" I say. He doesn't answer. Slowly, I unlock the door, crack it open just an inch, and look outside.

He's not there. Opening the door all the way, I step out into the hallway. Wyatt is nowhere to be found. Confused, I lean against the wall. Where did he go? Did he just give up? It that's the case, the least he could have done is said goodbye.

"Wyatt?"

He doesn't respond. When I toddle down the hall, I suddenly realize why.

Standing at the top of the stairs, I hear the front door opening, Wyatt standing in front of it. In walk Ethan and Dave.

I start to make my way down the stairs.

"Get out of my house!" I yell, causing them to look up. They’re alarmed, but I don't care. "I'll call the police!"

Dave, smug as ever, doesn't buy it. "You're going to call the police on the people who came to check on you?"

"Not now Dave," says Wyatt.

"Fuck off!" I yell at them. "I didn't ask you to come here; I don't want you here. Leave. Me. Alone!"

"You don't mean that, Shadow."

I turn to Ethan. I'm still on the stairs, gripping the banister, so I have to look down at him. He looks tired, more tired than I feel. "Ethan, if you had any common sense, you'd ditch these two. All they're going to do is complain and gang up on you and ruin your whole entire life."

Dave starts to say something, but Wyatt stops him.

"No, go head. What did you want to tell me?"

"He doesn't want to tell you anything," says Wyatt. "We just came to see how you were after the article."

"I feel like shit. I think it's obvious." I start to walk towards them. I'm about halfway down the stairs now, and, looking at all of them in turn, I say, "I need a drink."

None of them seem amused. They move to block the way. I get down to the bottom step and try to push passed them but they're stronger and I fail.

"Move," I say. When they don't, I repeat myself, this time with more force. "Move!"

Ethan asks me how much I've had to drink but I ignore him. They're not my parents; I don't have to answer to them.

Wyatt attempts to reach for me, but I push his hands away. I almost lose my footing, but Dave catches me. I yank myself out of his grasp.

"Shadow," says Wyatt, "you need to calm down. Let's find a place to relax. You're going to drink water and I'm going to order you food."

I don't like his plan--and not just because he's talking to me like I'm a child.

I shake my head. "No."

I start back up the stairs, but he reaches for me. This time his grasp is strong, and I can feel a bruise forming on my wrist. I try to wriggle away but can't. Either he's been working out or I'm way more inebriated than I thought.

It doesn't stop me from continuing to pull away. I tell him to let me go, but he doesn't. I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. All the while, he's asking me to stop moving but all I want to do is run away. It gets so bad, that, as I'm yelling and pulling, my foot slips, I lose my footing, and go flying.

Only this time, no one catches me.

I crash against the stairs, first my arms, then my shoulder. I cry out in pain, looking up at the guys. They look horrified, but I can't keep my focus on them for too long. Soon, everything goes blurry and my vision cuts in and out.

Then... nothing.

-

This is probably one of my favorite chapters I've written for this story so far. Thanks for reading.

-L.H.

[kdt3al]

Confession - I'm a piece of shit.

TLDR: I was very depressed, got drunk and kissed a new friend. Partner called off our engagement because of it. I messaged this friend inappropriately and nearly destroyed mine and Partner's relationship because of it. I have no friends, and my depression is getting bad again.

I was engaged last year, but then I got drunk and kissed a friend. A few months later, I was messaging this friend inappropriately. My partner found out and told me to stop, but I continued. I'll admit, I loved the kind of attention I got from this guy. I hadn't had THAT kind of attention for a long time.

The way this guy LOOKED at me, I felt like I was the only person in the world. I've never had anyone look at me that way, making me feel so special.

My partner's giving me my last chance. I know I was lucky to have 1 more chance, let alone another one. My partner kicked me out of our house and said I couldn't come back until I'd said goodbye to my friend. I miss him. I keep wanting to tell him things that have happened during my day.

It's no excuse, I just want to give some of my thoughts on why I did what I did.

I've had maybe 2 friends since I left school nearly 10 years ago. I met A 4 years after I left school, and D about 8 years after I left school. I can no longer speak to D, as this was the friend. My partner had a few years without any close friends, but he's had A and Z for around 5 years now, as well as a few others he chats with regularly. A no longer wants to be my friend and has chosen to only be friends with Partner.

My partner's family are quite close, but mine are not. I don't see my family very often, and we don't talk much other than when we need to. My partner plays online games with his brothers every now and then and sees most of his family at work.

I had a baby in 2021, and I felt so alone. None of my family came to help me, and when they did visit they just wanted to see the baby. Partner's family didn't really visit either, his mum wanted to come around all the time, and even let herself in without asking or knocking.

I had 9 months off of work, in total. I was so bored at home alone, but my anxiety wouldn't let me go outside. (Partner resents me for not taking Baby outside more.) Eventually, A dragged me out of the house to go to a baby/toddler group with him. I enjoyed it, but then I was stuck going with A's partner. I didn't really get on with her, and I always felt like she didn't like me that much. That might've been my anxiety talking, but I didn't realise that at the time.

All the time I spent inside just me and Baby caused my depression to get worse and worse. I started having thoughts of hurting myself and realised I probably needed to talk to someone. I spoke to the Health Visitor, and they set me up an appointment to talk to someone about Post Partum Depression. I went through their assessment and was told I was fine. "You're a new mum, you'll be fine."

My depression got worse and worse. It only started to lift when I started talking to D. He seemed to know what I was going through depression-wise, and mental health-wise. I felt like I had someone I could talk to, I didn't feel like I could confide in my partner. How do you tell someone you love that you don't want to be here anymore?

I think I want some advice on what I should do?

I don't have any friends I can talk to, I'm trying to get in contact with some old friends from school but no one really seems to want to reconnect. It's always meeting for a coffee "someday" and then never hearing back. I've tried Bumble and Peanut to find new friends nearby, but people don't seem to reply on those apps very often.

I keep wanting to message D, I miss him as a friend. We'd play games on Steam together, go for walks, and have a laugh. I felt like I'd found a best friend finally after 10 years. We took things too far and I regret that drunken kiss that started it all. Partner wants us to have nothing to do with D ever again, he thinks D wanted to destroy our relationship and steal me away. I don't think that, but part of me wonders if maybe I wanted that in a way?

Partner wants to go through my phone regularly now, and I can't blame him. He says he can't trust me, I'm trying to earn his trust again. Neither of us is sure how to do that yet. He says he's single now but says he wants to work on the relationship, and he still wants sex and to "use" me. Partner told me A said, "You better not get back with her unless it's just for the sex."

I'm in counselling for my mental health, Partner says it's "too little, too late". Counsellor says I should write Partner a letter because actual face-to-face conversations spike my anxiety. Told Partner this, and he said "You can write one, but I might not read it or believe anything you write." He says he can't trust what I say anymore. My counsellor says I deserve to be happy, and that even though I don't feel like it now, things will get better. I hope that's true.

I miss having D as a friend. I want my family (Me, Partner, Baby) to stay together. I want my anxiety and depression to lighten. I want to be happy.

[expfcultragreen]

I used to be a ladies size 18-20, now i hover around size 4-6. I just wasnt prioritizing my body; i had been taught thats vain, by someone who regrets not taking better care of her body before now because of various minor health complications from being virtually sedentary/inactive for decades. (I think shes uncomfortable being seen exercising because it feels too intimate/sexual somehow, but she also refuses to do anything but play computer solitaire when no one is watching her. My first guess is that its this thing of, in the 50s, girls werent trying to be called sporty, it was cringe to be seen physically exerting yourself because thats so butch, so they became habituated to never physically exerting themselves and basically the only time they got heated was in cars with boys or whatever so that connection lingers and causes unconscious difficulties where nonsexual exercise feels sexual and is therefore mortifying in public OR alone because sex is somehow humiliating? because its somehow bad? because something-something cultural christianization...just a theory. She has some kind of mental dispensation for gardening, probably because it's the only kind of exercise her parents modeled for her as acceptable behavior. So, for about a quarter of the year she gets a few hours of real exercise every week, but its very particular stuff that mostly re-strengthens her core; she NEVER goes on walks, she NEVER does stretches, never tests her reflexes, etc etc, and she's very stiff and fragile for it; she's someone who cant recover from physical harm as easily, which snowballs quickly at that age. New theory: avoidant trauma-reaction to any of the activities her pedo gym teacher made them do in class?)

My gf has dipped under 300 lbs since we started dating and while i thought she was perfect the way she was when we started dating, im not finding myself any less attracted to her, because shes still her. There's some kind of upper weight restriction on skydiving and she's a trained skydiver who misses jumping, so, what, im going to tell her "no dont follow your dreams, you look so good now"?? I should be complaining to the skydiving people about their fatphobia if anything.

Im just saying, no one gives a shit about your shallow takes on these actors you find hot for 1 reason...like bitch about the industry theyre compelled to be thin by, not their individual health/fitness/aesthetic choices. Like "hmmm found to be too thin, punished with banishment" ok so youre exactly as toxic as their whole fatphobic industry but in the other direction. Who cares about you?

No offense but hiking and eating healthy feel a million times better than 4 entitled fat fetishists drooling after you