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puckinghell · 6 years ago

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Liquid Courage | Tyler Seguin

Requested: Ask and you shall receive :-) Words: 2570 Note: This is kinda a part two to A Drunk Tongue, but could be read as a stand alone.

You stand in the middle of Tyler’s living room, which is filled to the brim with people. The music is loud, as is the sound of people chattering, and alcohol is flowing. It’s a pretty regular occurrence, that Tyler’s house looks like this.

And yet, something is wrong.

It’s not that you’re seemingly the only person who’s drinking water. That is a regular occurrence at Tyler’s parties, too. He always insists on you coming, and you do, because that’s what best friends are for, but you’re not a big party person and this time around, you can still remember the taste of tequila in your mouth from last week. Your roommate’s birthday celebration got a bit out of hand, and you ended up on Tyler’s couch, although you had no memory of how exactly you got there.

No, your feeling of doom has more to do with the host. Your eyes find Tyler, standing at his kitchen island, a glass of whiskey in hand. Someone whose name you don’t know is talking to him, but he’s barely responding, and you’re pretty sure he’s not hearing a word of what his conversation partner is saying.

Sometimes you worry about him. You know he throws parties often because the house is awfully big for one person; it’s the same reason that he invites you over for dinner multiple times a week - although your cooking ability, and his lack thereof, might have something to do with that as well - but he’s never looked so alone during one.

It’s something about the hard set of his jaw, the dark circles around his eyes, the way his fingers are clenching the glass of liquor a bit too tight. You’re not able to put your finger on it exactly, not able to pinpoint it to a specific feature, but you feel it with every fiber of your being.

Something is bothering your best friend, and he’s dealing with it on his own.

You put your glass of water on the side table next to you and start making your way over to him. You almost trip over Cash, who looks at you with tired eyes. The house might be too big for just Tyler and his dogs, but his dogs certainly think it’s too small for parties of this size.

“Hey,” you mutter, resting your hand on his back as you maneuver your way to his side. He looks at you, recognizes you, and his face lights up.

“Y/N!” he says, and the slur in his voice tells you he’s more drunk than you thought he was. Tyler handles his liquor a lot better than you, and you usually don’t really notice when he’s been drinking. Sometimes he gets a bit more giggly or a bit louder, but he never slurs his words and he’s always steady on his feet.

Not this time.

“You alright?” you hum. His change in demeanor is surprising you, the crinkles of laughter around his eyes amusing.

“Now I am,” he slurs, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I lost you.” He’s pouting, and it’s cute, but you refuse to think about that right now. You have to remember that you’re a woman on a mission, and your irrationally large crush on your best friend has to wait until you’ve solved the mystery.

“You looked a bit lonely there,” you needle, and he frowns.

“Well, I couldn’t find you.” He says it as if it explains everything, and you curse your fluttering heart.

“I can’t hang around you all night,” you tease. “None of the pretty girls that are here would dare to approach you if I just clung to your side.”

His face falls and you don’t know why, don’t realize what you said wrong. Surely he was aware of all the pretty girls that are currently walking around his house.

“You’d tell me, if there was something going on with you, right?” you push, and his face softens. Then, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Sure, baby.” It’s not a pet name he uses for you often, and you feel your cheeks flush red. His arm falls away from your shoulder as one of his teammates approaches him and you take the opportunity to slip away from him, and make your way to the bathroom.

You know he’s not telling you the truth and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit. You’re at least 90% sure he’s lonely. He has his dogs, and his teammates, and you, but his family lives far away and he’s not been in a serious relationship in years. He’s getting older too, and although he hasn’t mentioned a family of his own, you see the way he looks at his teammates’ kids, at kids in the stands even, and you know he’s ready for something more serious.

As a best friend, maybe you should be a better wing woman. Maybe you should be setting him up on blind dates with your hot and available friends. It’s just that the thought of him with someone, anyone who’s not you, makes you feel dizzy with nausea.

You use the bathroom and wash your hands. When you throw open the door of the bathroom and walk back out into the hallway, you’re met with something solid and warm, and two strong hands grab onto you and pull. Tyler stumbles back, his back hitting the wall, as he pulls you with him.

“Wow,” he breathes. “I’m a bit wobbly.”

You giggle. “You mean drunk?”

He doesn’t answer, and that’s when you notice that he’s close enough for you to feel his warm breath against your skin. You step back, his hands drop, his smile disappears.

“Ty, do you think I should be setting you up on blind dates?” You blurt it out before thinking it through, and you can tell it was too sudden an outburst from the confusion that washes over his face at your words.

“You, I, what?” he stammers. “Blind dates? God no.”

You cross your arms, your stubbornness shining through. “Why not? Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

He seems to think about this, as he leans back against the wall more comfortably. The silence is getting tense, and then he finally speaks. “I want a girlfriend. But I want something very specific.”

You hadn’t expected that. Your heart sinks; whatever he wants, you’re pretty sure you could never keep up to his standards. On one hand, you don’t want to hear him say it, but on the other hand, maybe hearing it from his mouth will finally give you an opportunity to move on.

“What is it that you’re looking for, Ty?”

He stares at you, his golden brown eyes searching your face, and then he pulls his bottom lips between his teeth and you feel like you’re going to faint. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the noise of people in the background, the sound of music behind thick walls, maybe it’s how close he’s standing or the fact that the suit he’s wearing is tight in all the right places, but maybe it’s just that it’s Tyler and you’re pretty sure there’s never been anyone who means as much to you as he has.

“Y/N,” he says then, softly, “you know when I picked you up last week, and you were drunk out of your mind?”

It’s not a memory you’re proud of, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you nod.

“You told me that a drunk tongue never lies.”

“Okay?” You don’t get where he’s going with this, but as he reaches out to place his hand on your hip, fingertips featherlight against the fabric of your jeans, you decide not to question his drunken train of thought.

“I need you to remember that I’m drunk right now,” he mumbles, and then suddenly he’s leaning in and your heart is beating out of your chest. He stops right before his nose touches yours, and his breath is hot against your lips, and your eyes nearly flutter shut without your permission, but then you look up in his warm brown eyes and all you see in them is truth.

“Why?” you ask, whisper against his mouth, and he smiles.

“I’m looking for you.” He closes the gap, his lips soft against yours at first, hesitating, but when he realizes you’re not pulling away, his grip on your hips tightens and his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip. You let him deepen the kiss, allow your hands to travel up to his neck, your fingers curling in his hair.

He pulls away slightly, only just enough to disconnect you lips, as you struggle for air.

“Ty…”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, instead kisses you again, passionate from the start this time. You barely notice that he’s moving you towards his bedroom, surprisingly steady on his feet as he kicks the door shut behind him and pushes you towards his bed without breaking the kiss.

You fall back onto the covers and he follows right away, his body pressing yours into the mattress, and when he starts pressing kisses against your jaw, you come back down to earth just long enough to realize what’s happening.

Tyler’s drunk, and probably lonely, but you have no excuse. Well, none other than the fact that you’ve been in love with him for like a year, but no excuse you’d actually be willing to tell him when morning comes and he realizes he made a mistake.

“Ty…” you bring out. “Tyler, stop.”

He freezes instantly, clambers away from you so fast it’s like he’s been bitten by something. His hair is starting to curl at the back of his neck and the top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned - you can’t remember you doing that, but you must’ve - and he looks so handsome that every fiber of your being is screaming at you to just do it, just go for it, deal with the consequences later.

But this is your best friend and you can’t lose him over one night. Even if that one night would most likely be the closest to heaven you’ll ever get.

“You don’t want this?” he asks, his voice tight, and you notice the hurt in his eyes. It nearly brings tears to yours.

You reach out and take his hands in yours, and you see the tension leave his shoulders. “I do,” you whisper, “but you’re drunk, and when you’re sober, you might regret this. I don’t think I can deal with that, Ty.”

He shakes his head feverishly, crawls back towards you and moves either leg on one side of you as he cups your face in his hands.

“Look at me,” he says sternly, and you do. “I want this, I want you. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“But…”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, and you let him, because you’re not even really sure what you were going to say. “I love you. I was sober yesterday and I loved you. I’m drunk now, and I love you, and I’ll be sober tomorrow, and I’ll still love you.”

His words are so honest, so forceful with truth, that you can literally feel your defenses crumbling.

“Let me show you,” he mumbles, and he kisses you again. You don’t stop him this time. Instead, you let him show you.

You wake to the sun on your face and for a few seconds, you’re confused about your surroundings. That’s when you notice a hump of brown dog against your legs and you realize you’re in Tyler’s room.

And that’s when the rest of the night comes back to you. You blush at the memories, remember Tyler’s skin against yours, his voice in your ear, his lips against your neck; it’s almost like he’s right there again.

Except, he’s not.

“Where is he, Marsh?” you whisper to the dog, who doesn’t even move an eyelid to acknowledge your question. You can feel dread starting to take over your stomach.

You were right. He did regret it. And he ran.

You step out of the bed then, ready to get dressed and run away from confrontation, ready to take your broken heart and lick your wounds in the peace of your own home. You find your jeans, but are somehow unable to find your shirt, so you take one of Tyler’s.

If he can stand the thought of ever facing you again, you’ll bring it back sometime.

Marshall jumps off the bed now, scratching at the bedroom door. When you open it, the Labrador darts down the stairs, where two more Labradors stand, excitedly wagging their tails. You tiptoe down the stairs and quickly pet the dogs.

It’s a mess downstairs, empty glasses scattered around the room, even one lonely shoe in front of the couch. The owner of the shoe, at least, has found his way home.

That’s when you smell burning.

Curiously, you make your way to the kitchen.

“Hey baby.” The voice is surprisingly light and Tyler looks chipper and not hungover at all - which is just unfair, considering your state last week - as he stands at the stove, wearing sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips and a white shirt, his curly hair a mess. He’s holding a pan, waving at the dark grey smoke that’s hovering above it with his hand.

“What did you do?” you ask warily, and he chuckles.

“Tried to cook you breakfast. Forgot I can’t cook to save my life.”

Cook you breakfast?

Your mind is working in overdrive, and that’s when he frowns.

“You look like you just saw a ghost. You okay?”

He’s acting so normal, like last night never even happened. You knew he was drunk, but surely, he wasn’t that drunk? Surely, he didn’t…forget?

“Do you remember?” It comes out as a high squeak, your voice shaky, and his eyes widen. He throws the pan in the sink as if it’s not smoking like a chimney, and stands before you within two big steps.

His eyes are blazing as he looks at you, his voice forceful as he speaks. “Of course.”

Your cheeks must be the color of actual tomatoes by now, but you can’t back down, you need to know, need to know if yesterday was the best or the worst decision of your life.

“Do you regret it?” You hold your breath as you finish your sentence.

He doesn’t respond right away. “Do you?” he asks then, tentatively.

You shake your head. You don’t. You can’t. Not even if it ruined the best friendship you ever had. Last night was everything.

And that’s when a smile breaks out onto his face, a smile so bright it could light up even the darkest of nights.

“Me neither,” he hums, and then his arms are circled around your waist. “I was right,” he states, and it’s your turn to frown.

“Right about what?”

He grins. “I told you that I’d be sober, but I’d still love you.” His forehead comes to rest against yours. “I was right. Still love you.”

You let your eyes fall shut. “You said, yesterday, that you wanted this for a long time…”

“Been waiting on you.” One of his hands travels to the hem of your shirt - his shirt, really -, slips under there, rough fingers against warm skin. “I guess I just needed a little bit of courage to tell you.”

“A bit of liquid courage?”

He laughs. “Exactly.” Then he kisses you again. When you pull away, you smile at him.

“Hey, Ty?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin one shot #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars one shot #hockey one shot #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey one shots #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl one shot #nhl one shots #nhl writing

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0nlywateristheriver · 6 years ago

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My Second Wife

Link to story with original pictures: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1O9-fjebl_2IBrzJxBdK0zVDJ04gQLD7zc6BzmBJLzDw/edit?usp=sharing

@doctor-of-fair-play

My Second Wife

@onlywateristheriver

After over a thousand years married to the woman, the Doctor had gotten the knack of pinpointing about where River was along her timeline, without the aid of their diaries. They had to have been married by now - she looked older than she had that day. As of yet, however, River didn’t seem to know her which, despite being a bit offensive, also offered the opportunity for a bit of fun…

“D’you know?“ the Doctor couldn’t help but have the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile just barely contained. River had pulled this on her once, though now she realized that River might have been talking about her. Timelines. “You remind me of m’second wife. Well, second proper wife… there were a few others just for the fun and the party. The resemblance, s’uncanny. Course, her hair’s a bit curlier, and she has this nasty habit of carrying ‘round weapons. Once shot m’hat! Very rude. Never carry ‘round weapons, makes you look weak,“ she paced around River, tapping a finger against her holster, “Naughty, naughty. And… this is the silly bit. She’s an archaeologist. Can you imagine it? Time travelin’ archaeologist. That’s cheatin’! Don’t you think that’s cheatin’?”

onlywateristheriver

River’s eyes narrowed as the woman in front of her went on about weapons and hats and archaeology. “I’ll have you know, archaeology is the best way to find some of the most precious things that would have otherwise been lost to time. I was lost when I went to university and becoming an archaeologist helped me to find the best thing in my life. Led me to it again and again. And saved my life and the life of those I love more than once, so don’t you go on about weakness and silliness and cheating.” River tutted.

doctor-of-fair-play

The best thing in my life. Did she mean…? The Doctor stood a little straighter, a curl of guilt moving inside her. She’d never really stopped to think, stopped to consider… Anthropology she could understand, she was a bit of an anthropologist herself, but archaeology? Climbing about in the dust, going through old scraps of papers and wisps of lives long since ended when all of it was there, within reach, when one was to just step past the barrier of time. Alive and real.

“M’sorry. I was just havin’ a bit of fun.” The Doctor pulled up a chair, leaning in a bit closer to her wife, “S’really important to you, isn’t it? S’not just a way of… Why though? When you can step out in the world, amongst the living, why limit yourself to fragments? S’a vortex manipulator, isn’t it?” the question didn’t sound very convincing, she barely even glanced down at it. “You could go back, see it all for yourself. Nothin’s really lost.”

onlywateristheriver

“I didn’t have this from the beginning. I was left on my own with nothing. I had to find my own way with nothing but my own will and determination. All I knew was that there was someone I needed to find. Someone who could be anywhere, anywhen. I was as weak as a kitten and as knowledgable as a newborn. But I grew up fast and I used what I had around me. Archaeology was the best way to find what I needed. It’s served me well.”

River leaned back in her chair and looked the woman up and down. “Why am I telling you any of this anyway?”

doctor-of-fair-play

“Just have one of those faces, people can’t help but talk when I’m around. Sometimes. Honestly, I’ve not the knack for it I used to.” It was probably the height. Or the breasts. The Doctor leaned forward, elbows on the table, and twirled her straw around the emptying glass.“And, I mean, m'also your husband and I’ve been dropping hints all night. So there’s that. Really, River, you’re usually quicker on the uptake. How many people d'you think have a time travelin’ archaeologist for a wife?”

onlywateristheriver

River stared for a good minute or two at the woman in front of her. It was the eyes that finally convinced her. “I never thought I’d see you again.” Slowly she smiled. “And I certainly never came across this in my research. How long has it been for you?”

doctor-of-fair-play

The Doctor waited for some reaction from River, trying to read the expressions that passed over her face. Eventually, River smiled and a smile brightened the Doctor’s face too. “Y’know me, m’like a bad penny.” Her smile wavered, the unwelcome memory of their last goodbye pressing into her mind. “Been a while on my end, haven’t seen you since a bit before I last regenerated - don’t think you’re there quite yet. M’two thousand and something if that’s any help?”

onlywateristheriver

“Two thousand? It has been a while then. For me as well. I haven’t seen you in probably a hundred years, maybe a hundred and fifty?” She tried to hide the sadness that always surfaced when she realized how long the Doctor had left her alone. She knew they couldn’t spend all of their time together, that was dangerous. But she still missed him, ‘her’ she corrected, terribly when they were apart.

“I’m glad you found a way to go on. I know you were worried that you were at the end.”

doctor-of-fair-play

“S’not what I was worried about. But you know me, never liked endings.“ She let out a slow breath, hands stuffed in her pockets, and looked inside the cafe. The light of the grimy fixtures shone a warm gold, and the clink of dishes and silverware, the murmur of voices could be distantly heard. It would be better to laugh, better to pretend they weren’t both moving towards a goodbye, than to stand out here in the rain speaking of things that couldn’t be changed. “Come have dinner with us. I think you’ll like them, m’friends. And there’s a lot of catchin’ up we have to do, you and me. All the bits we missed.“

onlywateristheriver

River took a deep breath and put on a smile she didn’t really feel. “Okay. Lead the way.”

doctor-of-fair-play

Slipping a hand into hers, the Doctor led her back into the cafe. The chill of the rainy evening faded as the door closed behind them, though the Doctor’s hair was dripping and her shirt was tight to her skin, sticking and cold. She gladly slipped back into the booth, as it was near to the faux fireplace in the corner which gave off a very real glow of warmth from glowing plastic logs. Humans, they couldn’t just stick a space heater in the corner. Very few races were so focused on the ‘atmosphere’ of a place.

“We got you both another round of hot chocolates,“ Graham said, holding one out to each of them. The Doctor took hers gratefully, wrapping icy fingers around the warmth of the mug. “I’m amazed you’re not half froze, standing out there.“

“So is one of you going to explain?“ Ryan asked. “I didn’t take you for the married sort, Doctor.”

Yaz gave him a nudge under the table with her foot - the Doctor knew this because she missed Ryan and caught the Doctor’s shin instead. “What he means is, we thought you’d have been around, River? We were just saying, we’re a bit surprised we haven’t met you before, that’s all.”

onlywateristheriver

So, they were going to hold hands then. They’d never actually done the couple-thing before. Not with anyone they actually knew personally outside of her parents and not even then, as her dad had always been a bit overprotective for the brief moments they’d had as dad and daughter. River found that she liked it very much. She didn’t release her wife’s hand even when the older man held out the hot chocolate for her. “Thank you.”

She turned to the girl. “Well, the Doctor and I have had such an interesting history, always meeting out of order. Has she told you about any of it?”

doctor-of-fair-play

No. The answer was ‘no’. She’d not said a word. So many names she never let past her lips, because it hurt too much, because she didn’t want to scare her new friends by letting on how many had been lost while she’d carried on. The Doctor, such a survivor. Always living while those she loved… Perhaps the tension showed - a tightness in her neck, an expression on her face - because Yaz seemed to understand and saved her. “I think we scared the Doctor off talking about personal things when she let on she was two thousand and we threatened her with two thousand birthday parties.”

A small look of confusion touched against Ryan’s face, for she’d once mentioned her age in passing but there had been no talk of parties, but he caught on after a moment, “Right yeah.“

“Love a good party, me,“ the Doctor said, feeling able to take a breath, “but so many candles. Don’t really want to be blamed for another fire - Rome was bad enough.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Why don’t you tell them ‘bout the Byzantium, dear? That was a good one. This one decided the best was t’drop by the TARDIS would be to fling herself out another ship’s hatch.”

0nlywateristheriver

“Two thousand birthday parties? I don’t even think she’s ever had even one.” River nudged the Doctor with her shoulder. “Dad and I tried to throw him a surprise birthday party once. Mum was supposed to keep him occupied for a couple of hours. They didn’t come back for two days! He never could quite explain why, but I think Mum had let it slip somehow what we’d been planning.” River’s eyes got misty for a moment.

She gathered herself back together. “The Byzantium. Right. You were so young then.” She smiled at the Doctor then winked at Yaz. “He looked about twelve years old, and so easy to get all flustered. Particularly when I landed right on top of him when he pulled me into the TARDIS.”

#doctor-of-fair-play #rp #13 #river song

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one-shoop · 5 years ago

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I just had basically a panic attack or whatever over my dad calling for dinner. Oh but who would guess being singled out by a scream "FLOOOOOF! COME EEEAT!" every freaking night and told "COME ON HONEY" and "DID YOU HEEEEAR?" "FLOOOOOF?" "FLOOOF? ANSWEEEER?" doesn't give me, the girl who's terrified of eating to the point where she skips meals almost everyday, panic attacks. Dear god i cant freaking eat dad, I CANT EAT BECAUSE IT TRIGGERS MY GODDAMN OCD. But nooooooo. Apparently nobody bothered to ask me my triggers or even do some research after my diagnosis. And forgive me lord if Im not enthusiastic about explaining it myself becase EVERY GODDAMN TIME I TOLD SOMEONE THEY FORCED ME TO DO IT ANYWAYS. Told me "but the food is gooood" and "come oon, you need to eeeeeat" like i stg i'm so fucking tired

Of people telling me for an hour and a half to come fuck myself over with triggers and panic all the way and not be able to eat and be ashamed of myself and feel weak and unable to do anything. Like Jesus guys IT TRIGGERS MY OCD. MEANING THAT I CANT FUCKING EAT PEACEFULLY. I SONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK IF ITS GOOD OR NOT. ITLL SCARE ME TO FUCKING HELL.

And yeah, for supportive parents they sure are doing the fucking lords job right? After fucking up myself to ask fir help thar never vame and was always denied or stripped to its bare minimums then told to accept that as tje ultimate help, I finally ficking tet someone who validates me and gives me a diagnosis. Ans yoy funky get fuckjng told to your faces that FORCING KIDS TO FACE THEOR FEARS IS THE WORST THING FOR THEIR HEALTH. And MAYBE if you knew anything at fucking all you'd fucking realize that when I HAVE NEVER ASKED FOR HELP OUT OF FEAR OF BEING SHAMED FOR IT, maybe is your fault???? And maune it impedes on mh recovery???? And maube i shouldn't be the only one to fucking take stepd to retake that???? Im all foe fu king getting the help I gucking need but for fucks sake cant any of you look like you can more for, I dunno, fucking parenting, other than whatever fycking meal you're having???? Is it roo kuch to ask to help me retake my right to asking for the hospital since its been mentioned at that same fucking meeting we talk about that I've tried asking for goddamn help and you said no????

Like you had a goddamn professional tell you that WHEN YOUR KIDS WANT HELP, YOU CANT DENY IT. And that by pretending that I jad to tough it up, you fucked me up way more. And thw most I got was a half assed sentence of "BUT IM PLACING ALL THE BLAME ON MYSELF, ITS UNHEALTHY" as fucking soon as the goddamn bells rang.

Like you had the nerve to ACXUSE ME of NOT asking for help and fucking NOT telling you anything. Ans believe it or not I STILL FUCLING THOUGHT THAT about a second ago. But honestly? WHY THE FUCK SHOULD ANULNE BE HONORABLY FORCED TO ASK FOR HELO THAT TJEU KNOW WILL NEGER VOME??? JUST SO YOU CAN SAY I WAS THE PERFECT VICTIM WHO STILL BELIEVED IN YOU???? BECAUSE AFTER ALL THIS CRAP, AFTER BEING TOLD THE TRUTH, THE FIRS TTHING IM TOLD WHEN WE GET OUT IS THAT I NEED "TO TRUST YOU MORE"? AND "TELL YOU ABOUT MY FEELINGS?" am I someone's fucking puppet here??? Do you just want ro ficking play with me until youre done?????

Like what the fuck???? YOU THOUGHT I "DID THE WRONG THING" BY NOR ASKING COR HELP. BUT YOU SONS OF DEMONS, YOU HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN YOUR PHILOSOPHY WAS THAT FUCKED UP PIECE OF MENTALITY FROM THE GODDAMN FARK AGES THAT YOU NEED TO TELL YOUR KIDS TO FUCK OFF. OKAY??? YPU KNEW THAT ENOIGJ TO EXPLAIN IT IN BARF-INCUDING CLARITY HOW APPARENTLY ONE SINGLE GUCKING BOOK ON ANXIETY IN KDIS WAS ENOUGB TO RID YOU OF YOUR ENTIRE HUMAN BRAIN AND SUDDENLY IT DIDNT MATTER HOW MUCH WE CRIED AND BEGGED AND GELT ALONE AND NEEDED YOUR SHIR COMFORT, TOU DIDNT CARE???? WELL FUESS WHAT???? THE FIRS TTHING YOU TELL ME WHEN SHE SPEAKS, BLESS THWT DOCTIR, IS THAT I DONT EVEN ASK FOR HELP. and bless me I told them YO I ASKED FOR THE HOSPITAL AND YOU TOLD ME I WASNT SICK ENOUGH. AND YOU BOTH HAD THE GODDAMN MIND TO REFUTE IT. UNTIL MOM TOLD DAD TO STOP BEXAUSE "SHES RIGHT, ITS OUR FAULT, OUR BAD".

Like what the fuck??? Tou already knew that you wouldn't have given any help anyways??? Why the fuck am I even supposed to fucking ask??? Why did you EVER tell me to ask??? Was ir so you could feel fucking welcome??? So you could feel so fucking badass and awesome telling me the goddamn word of light exquisite and God Almighty in his tree in heaven that "FIND AOLUTIONS AND STOP CRYING"???? OR, NO, WAIT, EZCUSE ME, WAD I SUPLOSED TO COME SEE YOU SO YOU COULD PEP-TALK ME INTO FUCKING OFF FROM FEELINGS LAND AND "FIND SOLUTIONS"??? Did you want to feel like you gave me comfort without actually giving me some??????

Like what the fuck???????????? And -- why the FUCK foes it STILL appear smart tp tell me to fucking TELL YOU SHIT? GUYS I TOLD TOU MORE SHOT I WAS LEGALLY ONLIGATED TO. YOU CAME TO MEET MY THERAPISTS. YOU GOT THE BRIEFINGS WITH ME WHEN I INVITED YOU. YOU GOT TO SEE MY PSYCHIATRIST, AND MY DOSSIER, AND MY MEDS. I TOLD YOU I NEEDED A LISTENING EAR AND NOT AFVICE, I TOLD YOU I FELT SCARED SOMETIMES OF EATING, I TOLD YOU ABOUT MY OBSESSIONS, I ASKED YOU IF I COULD GO TO BE HOSPITALIXED BECASUE OCD GOT TOO BAD.

And you laughed at my fuccking obsessions. When i was a kid my biggest trigger was barfing, and bile. And guess fucking what? You fucking laughed around and invented the worst fucking single thing ever to say "fuck you get better" which was switching the goddamn syllables together and fuckinf singing it to me like it was fine now. Fucking laughing at me whenever ai had goddamn panic attacks. I diagnosed my own goddamn trigger at, what, ten? BUT I NEGER ASKED FOR HELP BECAUSE YOU FUCKINF LAUGHED AT ME EVERYTIME I CLOSED MY EYES AND MY EARS AND PANICKED TO CHANGE THE TOPIC. I WAS FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE. I COULD NOT BEAR IT. AND WHEN YOU SAW A TERRIFIED CHILD, YOU SID NOTHING EXCEPT LAUGH AND SAY "there, now they're done with talking, tou can stop closing your ears now". YOU FUCLING NOTICED JN THE WORST WAY POSSUVLR. I REGRET SHOWING YOU THE FIRST ENTRY I MADE ON THIS. I WAS SO ASHAMED OF IT. I THOUGHT IT EAS WRONG. OR SHAMEFUL. AND -- GUESS WHAT? I THOUGHT IT WAS YNIQUE TO MEZ TOO. IT WA THE SINGLE MOSR SCARY TJING IN MY EXIDTENCE. MY CHEST BURNED AND SQUINTED AND I FELT JOT AND I CRIED AND VRIED AND BEGGED AND YELLED IN MY HEAD FOR PEOPLE TO STOP, IN THE BUS, AT SCHOOL, AT HOME. AND IF YOUD BEEN SLIGHTLY GIOD AT YOUR FUCKINF JOB I MOGHT HAVE TOLD YOU FUVKASSES. BHT NO. AND GUEDS WHAT? UNLESS WHST YOUVE FUCKING TOLD ME, BEING IN PAIN IS NOT ONLY VALID OR UNSHAMEFUL WHEN YOU ASK ADULRS WHAT TO DO. FOR HOW FUCLING LONG HACE I BEEN TOLD THAT PAIN DOESNT MATTER UNLESS AN ADULT IS ON THE CASE? HOW LONG HACE U WANRED SOMEWHRRE WHERE GODDAMN ADULTS DIDNT FUCK YOU OVER? DIDNT CONTR EVERY THOUGHT YOH HAD? WHERE SAYING "YOURE WRONG" ISNT AN INSULT? WJERE KIDS ARENT JUST DENIED A COICE BECAUSE THEYRE KIDS?

Ughhhhh.how many times should I get convinced that your help is worth crap? That searching for your goddamn advice and "comfort" is of any goddamn help? That what shit you give me is actually good enough?? What this it worth my time? That I should be looking at myself??? That i should be squinting and hating myself???? That I'm not worth saving??? That -- goddamnit. God fucking samn jt. Goddamnit im so done with all these excuses. I'm so fucking -- I wanted help, I wanted love, I wanted excuses and loce and light and fear and farkness and friends and family and I cant even talk anymore. I cant talk from myf eeljngs anu.kre. I have ti go on goddamn instinct because my goddamn vortex is fucked up. I realize I eas incpaable of having a mental nature by myself at 8. When I eas alone, I couldn't feel anything. I felt aimless, I just felt nothing. I couldnt bring myself to feel anything. I ducking mtocied that, and yes, tou noticed to, but your goddamn reaction was to tell me to get a life and stop obsessing about that friend I used to play with and just learn to do shit myself and do shit on my own. (Basically, to my own stupid ass brain, this trainwreck of a sentence means I was like a kid who needed autonomy from their parents and needed to learn their life was their own.) Bur yeah!!!! Whenever I was alone I didnt give a shit!!!! I felt aimless!!! Lost!!! Shitty!!!!! And when I first saw myself as a disgusting hump of crap I was 10, I wss running happily and sang a song about witches ans I saw myseld in my head and god I looked like garbage and I hated it. I hated what I looked like. I resented the idea that people had to see me. I thought, why do people even stay with me, I'm disgusting. I can never pinpoint the reason becauee yes, my brain is that fucked-up. Someday it will be back.

But seriously. Does anyone else have old stores from early teens where everyone kept fuclibg Escalon without telling their parents?where kids didnt go home? Where the bes tthi g ws just leaving forever? Anyone think the second arc of Warriors was the bestBEXAUE THEY LEAVE and you KNOW they'll leave and you KNOW things are always better and sorry Leafpaw bur I hated tour arc like goddamn shit itself because SCREW THE CLANS, I hate them and I wanted ro leave anywhere that ft like home.

What do kids feel about their homes? Do fhey ever wish they moved? Do they ever seriously ask themselves why the fuck anyone would want to live here? Do they find it unnapealing? Are you supposed go be HAPPY to come home after a trip? Are you supposed to feel completely shitty from coming back, like a failure? Like you weren't supposed to come back, you were supposed to stay awau forever?

Did any kids have zero track of time? Did any kids watch old videos from babytime and realize that there's just something fucking terrifying about it without knowing fucking why?

I saw a kid watch a video on repeat of her dad doing something random like, an old baby recording from when the kud was running in the hallway and he caught her. She watched it on repeat for so, so long , until her phone stopped working I think. And i Remember being touched in a way I neger knew possible, and telling myself from the top of my ripe old 13th year, well thars not something ive ever done or wanted to do. I remember going, why the fuck would you do that? Aren't you happy hes gone? Aren't you happy to be gone?

I remember being straight terrified of my paternal grandmother at 5 only to realize yeara later that she used to be violent and terribly abusive to everyone. I remember being terrified of my aunt's husband, and feeling something undescribable that felt lile a stabbing wound in my aunt's eyes, until I finally learned that he used to beat her. I remembwr hating Éric Salvail for some reason and being really u comfortable around him until BAM, guess who was a goddamn creep and sexual harrassment pro? This guy. I remember so many fucking things that made me uncomfortable and it turned out to be right, about people at least.

But I remember hating my own picture for as long as I can remember. My face unsettles me. I never fully write why, or go to the end of my thoughts. I have problems, I know. I hope knowing what they are will help.

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photographerguide-blog · 6 years ago

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We found the Internet's leading expert on erotic pizza photography

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We found the Internet's leading expert on erotic pizza photography

This article contains explicit content and may be NSFW.

Id like to think there are more than a few of you out there holding onto a deep, dark, unshakable kink that youve never reveal. Not because its uncouthits more that nobody else on earth could possibly understand.

Lets say, for instance, that youre turned on by hot girls eating pizza. Not, like, circumstantially; not in a wow that girl is hot and also shes eating pizza way. Those two elements need to be fundamentally entwined to produce a truly vicious orgasm. Youd feel pretty isolated, right?

But dont worry! Everything is going to be OK, because now we have r/truesexypizza, a subreddit dedicated to, quite specifically, hot semi-nude people preparing, posing with, and enjoying pizza. Go ahead and scroll through. Its exactly what you expect, and pretty NSFW.

The hilarious thing about r/truesexypizza is the vast majority of its images come from one user, an enigmatic icon named OfficialCardinalSins who also serves as the subreddits moderator. I am the Internets ardent watchman, so naturally I tracked down OfficialCardinalSins to try and make sense of r/truesexypizza.

Is it a joke? Is he taking the piss? On the other side of our correspondence, Im still not sure.

When did you first get the idea for r/truesexypizza?

Sometimes youll walk into a house where pizza is baking and the smell immediately hits you, it goes straight to your brain and you can pinpoint that exact moment your hunger began. Other times, however, it is not so clear cut; as someone begins to bake pizza, you could smell nothing, only for that fragrance to slowly grow stronger until you cant ignore it. My interest in sexy pizza developed much like that gradual growing aromait was with me before I even realized it was there.

Once I realized I had this strange pizza passion, I knew that it had been subconsciously influencing my behavior for some time. My lovers and I would be sprawled in post-coital bliss, and I would begin to crave not a smoke, like they do in the movies, but a smoking hot slice of sexy pizza. I would, without thinking much of it, always suggest the local pizza parlor as the venue for potential dates. The moment of realization came when I was applying for a pizza delivery job, as the interviewer asked me about various pizza-related topics, I found myself growing incredibly aroused. I got so turned on that I had to excuse myself to the ladies room, look up sexy pizza on my phone, and satisfy my lust right then and there. Recovering from one of the most intense orgasms of my life, I did my best to fix my now-disheveled clothing and return to the interview. I was nervous and still a little bit horny for the remainder of the interview, and the interviewer could tell that something was off; I didnt get the job. I cried myself to sleep that night, having realized what I pizza freak I wasr/truesexypizza is my way of telling the world that being a pizza freak is nothing to be ashamed of.

What turns you on about hot girls with pizza?

Whats NOT to like about hot girls with pizza?

I should clarify, though, that r/truesexypizza is for everyone, not just girls. Sexy pizzas can come with big sausage schlongs, pepperoni nipples, and everything else sexy people like to show off.

Hot girl posts do tend to rise to the top and be the most popular, thoughso expect to see plenty of them when you visit.

You’re remarkably dedicated to the subreddityou keep it pretty active all by yourself? What motivates you? Are you just generally passionate about it?

I love sexy pizza because I love myself. I never want to again feel that self-loathing I did after that fateful interview, and I dont want anyone else to feel that way about themselves either. That is why I am passionate about sexy pizza. There is nothing wrong about loving beautiful, erotic pizza. PIZZA FREAKS UNITE!

Also, while most of the posts are mine, not all of them are; everybody is welcome to submit sexy pizza pictures! Speaking of, I would be remiss if I failed to mention user GlamorousCuttlefish. They were the first non-moderator to post a submission (it was a photo of the delightful Olivia Munn chowing down on a slice of scrumptious looking pizzavery sexy), and as such have been honored with the title of Primo Ospite or First Guest.

Is SexyPizza a joke? Is it completely serious? Is it somewhere in between?

I understand why you are asking this question, and I understand that the concept of sexy pizza can seem a bit ridiculous. Its no joke, though. Pizza and sex have much more in common than most people realize. They are both incredibly popular, enjoyed by people from all strata of society. They also both fulfill some of peoples baser needs, and yet can, and often are, elevated to the level of art. To me, sex and pizza seem like a natural pairing.

Are you into any other combination of girls and food? Do girls and burgers do it for you at all?

Girls and burgers? That is a bit ridiculous.

With the burgeoning popularity of SexyPizza, are there any other subreddits you’re interested in starting?

I do have other interests that I think deserve their own subreddits; sexy monocles and sexy socialism come to mind. My focus is on r/truesexypizza for the time being, however.

What’s your favorite kind of pizza?

All pizzas are good pizzas:r/truesexypizza is a place for celebrating the diversity of people and pies.

As for my personal preference, anything made with love is welcome in my mouthespecially when that love includes my partners special sauce.

Is there a limit to the amount of Sexy Pizza content? Will there come a day where you won’t be able to find any more pictures that combine hot girls and pizza? Or are you confident that there will always be more stuff to dig up?

With how much material there is already out there, finding content wont be an issue for a very long time. I also hope that r/truesexypizza will inspire people to make their own sexy pizza content. Im already in talks with another user, brainstorming ideas for creative pictures she could take of herself. GoneWild-style self posts are definitely in store for the future of r/truesexypizza.

Illustration by Max Fleishman