#i’m struggling in school i don’t work enough i can barely take care of myself

[thnksfrthmmrs]

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care

Take care of your body

Why You Should Take a Break: The Importance of Rest and Relaxation

I Think I Need to Go the Emergency Room?

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Ask the Bitches: Ugh, How Do I Build the Habit of Taking Meds?

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Survive in an Apartment with No Heat?

The Expensive Difference Between Recreation and Recovery 

Take care of your mind

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Everything Is Stressful and I’m Dying: How to Survive a Panic Attack

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

Ask the Bitches: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Update: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Absolve Myself of Financial Guilt Over My Pricey PS4?

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

Take care of your time

Stop Measuring Your Time in Beyoncé Hours

Help! I’m Procrastinating and I Can’t Get Up!

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

Actually, Fuck Big Goals

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

I’ve Succeeded at Every New Year’s Resolution I’ve Ever Made. Here’s How.

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

8 Free Time Management Systems To Try in the New Year

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD 

I Am So Over Productivity Porn 

Take care of your career

High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract

I Hate My Job and I Don’t Know How To Leave It: A Confession

A New Job, a New Day, a New Life, and I’m Feeling Good

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

How Abusive Workplaces Mirror Abusive Relationships 

Take care of your space

How to Successfully Work from Home Without Losing Your Goddamn Mind (Or Your Job)

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?

How To Maintain Your Car When You’re Barely Driving It

Take care of your people

How Dafuq Do Couples Share Their Money?

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

Love in the Time of Coronavirus: How to Protect Your Community and Your Soul from COVID-19

Be Somebody’s Eliza with a Simple Yet Life-Changing Act of Kindness 

The Ultimate Guide to Helping a Sick Friend 

Learning To Reverse the Golden Rule

I Have Become the Rich Relative I Always Wanted  

Take care of your financial well-being

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Make Myself Financially Secure Before Age 30?

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?

Slay Your Financial Vampires

Should Artists Ever Work for Free?

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Financial Math

Share My Horror at the World’s Worst Debt Visualization

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

A (Somewhat) Comprehensive List of Fun Job Perks that Won’t Pay Your Rent

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

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[blueicequeen19]

Hint

Warnings: unprotected car creampie, oral, face fucking, hate fucking with JJ, Kook mean girl

I roll my eyes as I cross the parking lot to my Mercedes. This Pogue could not take a fucking hint. His constant flirting was on my last nerve. Sure he was cute but he was a Pogue. I had guys lining up to fuck me. I could have any guy I wanted so why waste time on this loser?

“Stop following me.” I snap, hitting the unlock button on my key fob. Why did I park at the back of the damn parking lot?

“You’ve been drinking. At least let me drive you home. Or my home.” The smile in his voice is clear and I shake my head just as I stumble in my heels over another fucking piece of gravel.

“Fuck.” I stop, reaching down to kick off these monstrosities when he’s suddenly crouching in front of me, crowding my space as he lifts my foot and starts to unfasten the straps.

“Are you always this annoying?” I grumble, using one hand on his shoulder to balance myself. The hand on my ankle is hot against my skin as he finally works the strap free and gently sits my foot down.

“Usually.” He peeks up at my under his messy blonde hair, flashing a panty dropping smile as he switches to the other foot.

“At least you’re honest.”

“Not used to that?”

“You don’t know me at all so don’t assume anything.” God he gets under my skin so badly but he doesn’t seem phased as he chuckles before raising to his full height, towering over me and dangerously close.

“I know enough.” His voice is lower, seductive even as his playful blue eyes rake down my body and back up.

“You know what’s on the outside. You don’t know what’s on the inside.” I blurt in frustration, shoving his chest but he doesn’t even budge. His lips curl into a taunting smirk.

“I want to be inside you. Does that count?” My jaw drops in surprise. This Pogue was so bold. I scoff, attempting to shove past him but pain shoots up through my feet from the gravel. It’s so sudden that I barely comprehend him scooping me in his arms until we’re moving towards my car again.

“I didn’t need your help.” I grumble, my heels dangling from one hand as I wrap the other around his neck.

“A simple thank you would suffice.”

“Oh so you’re not going to use this as a way to gain a sexual favor?” I narrowed my eyes at him as a bright smile formed across his face, his boots crunching along the gravel.

“I won’t say no to a blow job.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“You can sit on my face if you don’t feel like standing.” A laugh burst from me and I quickly looked away, his smile practically blinding as we came up on my car.

“You can put me down now.” I muttered awkwardly as he pulled the drivers door open.

“Eager to get home?” He lowered me so that my toes rested on his boots, keeping me from hurting my feet. The move felt intimate with how tightly our bodies were pressed together and I struggled to maintain eye contact.

“Why do you care? This is never going to happen.” I snap, his eyes widening for a moment before he schools his features. Anger I could deal with. Anything soft was off the table.

“I’m not going to sleep with you. Not just because you’re a filthy Pogue but because you’re probably some vanilla pretty boy and that’s not my thing. You probably like sweet words and taking your time but I like to be fucked. So take the hint.” My heart races with my outburst, my cheeks red with anger but I can’t help the sudden panic from the look in his eyes. He looked pissed but also wanted to eat me alive. Like he wanted to give me exactly what I said I wanted.

“Take the hint, huh?” His voice is low in warning, raising the hair on my neck like I’m being stalked by a predator. Suddenly he jerks open my passenger door and shoves me in the back seat by the back of my neck.

“What the—.” The door shuts and he’s manhandling me onto my knees, yanking my dress up to bare myself to him.

“You want to be fucked? I’ll show you how we Pogues like to fuck.” I nearly moan at his words, my body already on board with whatever he has planned. His fingers cup my sex, teasing my folds over my thong before yanking it down my thighs.

“Don’t you dare.” I gasp, still hanging on to the need for this to be all his idea. He slaps my pussy, making me squeal in pain and surprise.

“Open up for me, princess.” He slaps my thighs wider apart, the flesh of his cock suddenly between my thighs and making my eyes bug out. He was fucking huge.

“So goddamn wet for a Kook Princess.” JJ taunts, rubbing his cock through my slit. Every pass over my clit made me shudder, begging to be filled. I open my mouth to do just that when he shoves his way inside, making me moan loudly as my head drops down on the leather seats.

“Shit. You better be quiet or one of your friends will find you getting fucked by a filthy Pogue.” JJ’s words are strained as his fingers bite into my hips and he starts to move. I can’t control the whimpers and mewls that leave me. He delivers on his promise, fucking me hard and fast. I don’t even have to demand more because he keeps up with everything my body wants without instruction.

“So hot and tight.” JJ groans, yanking me back into every hard thrust of his hips as the car rocks. His cock was so hard and deep. I could barely think or breathe until I hear a giggle in the distance. I try to jerk away but he shoves me back down, holding me in place. His pace lessens so the car doesn’t rock but he doesn’t stop fucking me as he looks around.

“Grab the door.”

“Who— is it? We have to stop.” My words come out on a whimper, my body wound so tight as I do as he says.

“Guess you’re not the only one getting fucked by a Pogue tonight.” JJ chuckles darkly, shoving me flat onto the seat and coming down on top of me. My hair is twisted in his fist as his lips find my neck. I try to listen to determine if I know the identity of the other couple but I can’t hear over the sound of JJ panting in my ear and his pelvis slamming against my ass.

“Here?” A girl hisses too close to my car for liking and I instantly recognize the voice as my two-faced Pogue hating best friend.

“Fuck, I love having you under me. Not so mouthy now, are ya?”

I hear a thump and JJ chuckles in my ear, rolling his hips so he hits that sweet spot deep inside me. I bite back a mewl, turning my head and slamming my mouth to his without even thinking. If I thought fucking him was insane then kissing was even worse. His tongue demands entrance into my mouth and I can’t stop the orgasm that barrels forward. His hand is over my mouth in the next moment, silencing me as he fucks me into the seat until I’m trembling for relief.

“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to be fucked?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him as I reach back to dig my nails into his thigh, with shorts still around his legs.

“Who is she fucking?” I demand in a whisper, shaking his hand off my mouth.

“Doesn’t matter.”

A cry of pleasure echos outside the car and JJ’s pace picks up. I can tell by his breathing that he’s close. He’s already lasted a lot longer than I expected.

“J—.” His nickname is a plea on my lips, the sensitivity being too much. The leather against my nipples. His weight on top of mine. His husky breathing in my ear.

“I like the thought of you driving home with me inside you. Then every time you drive this car you’ll be reminded of this. How your mouth begged for relief but your body demanded more. I can feel how close you are.” His vulgar words had my inner walls clenching, my eyes squeezing shut as pleasure pulsed through me. My hips lift on their own, aching for him to reach deeper.

“I didn’t say you could cum inside me.” I growl, fighting off the orgasm that threatens to rip through me and give us away. JJ’s hand dips between my thighs to press on my clit and a choked sound leaves me as my body detonates.

“I didn’t ask.” He whispers as I cum hard, my body jerking beneath his as I bite my own arm to keep from screaming my release. A deep, sexy moan echos in my ear as he finishes inside me, fucking me slow and deep until we’re both spent and fighting to catch our breath. The windows have fogged and I can feel his sweat on my back. Minutes pass and I don’t hear the couple outside anymore so I motion for him to let me up.

“This isn’t ever happening again.” I declare, looking along the floorboard for my panties. I don’t find them and I level him with a glare as he relaxes back against the seat, his legs spread and cock still hard. I fight hard not to stare at the cum stains along his shaft.

“If you say so.” His eyes are dark as he watches me, a sexy smirk on his lips. Like someone who was awfully proud of their accomplishments. The after effects of bliss make it hard to cling to my anger, especially with him looking at me the way he is.

“Clean up your mess and I’ll go.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I heard you. I was just giving you a chance to rethink what you just said.”

A beat of tense silence stretches between us, our eyes never wavering from each others even as his cum drips out of me and onto the leather seats.

“Here, I’ll show you.” JJ lunges, wrapping his hand in my hair and yanking me over his lap. His free hand holds his hard cock firmly as he presses my head down until the smooth tip meets my lips. I grit my teeth, refusing to open but the hand in my hair tightens painfully, nearly ripping the strands out so I reluctantly open, letting him hit the back of my throat. I gag loudly, attempting to pull back but he holds me firmly, a hand sliding between my legs to stroke my slick slit. I want to shake my head or tell him I can’t take anymore but he refuses to let me up as he fucks my throat.

“More tongue, less teeth. Relax your throat.” I’m tempted to bite down, wishing I could tell him I know how to give a damn blow job. It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d stop treating me like I don’t need to breathe. But goddamn the pulsing between my legs is almost agonizing. I feel on fire.

I move my tongue so it’s dragging up and down his shaft and I feel his body tighten as he hisses through his teeth.

“That’s it.” JJ groans, his fingers relaxing slightly in my hair as I start to move with him. The hand between my legs starts to move quicker against my clit, my legs shaking as I try to finish him before he finishes me. I hum around his shaft, tears blurring my eyes as every nerve ending starts to feel on fire.

“I’m cumming.” His head hits the seat as he holds my head down, shooting down my throat as my own body is thrown into oblivion. I can barely swallow as stars line my vision and my body shakes uncontrollably. The lack of oxygen didn’t help.

Finally, he releases the hold on my hair and I slide into the floorboard on my knees, makeup burning my eyes as I look up at him. My throat was raw and my pussy was on fire but I’d never felt more sated. JJ looked as satisfied as I felt as he slowly zipped his shorts back up and wiped sweat from his brow.

“I hate you.” My voice is hoarse and I desperately needed water. I also needed to know who my best friend was fucking right outside my car.

“But you love how I felt inside you.”

“You didn’t wear a condom.”

“Hopefully you’re on something.”

“Hopefully you don’t have something.”

JJ smirks as he leans forward on his knees, eyeing me like we didn’t just have amazing orgasms together.

“I guess next time I need to fuck you harder. Take care of all that attitude.” I narrow my eyes at him until his hand is suddenly around my throat and he’s pulling me into a sizzling kiss. I moan into his mouth, twisting my fingers in his hair as our tongues collide. I’d never been a fan of kissing but his mouth was otherworldly. I kiss him harder, feeling the slight stubble along his upper lip. I nearly whimper when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting our lips.

“Next time I’m eating that tight fucking pussy until you cum all over my face. Then I’m going to tie you up and play with you until you make an absolute mess. After that I’m gonna lay back and watch as you use me to get yourself off. You’ll use me however you want me while I don’t lift a finger.” JJ kisses me again as my insides turned molten, a cocky smirk pulling at his lips.

“I’ll see you later, princess.”

Then the car door opens and is slammed in my face as I try to figure out what the fuck just happened.

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Apologies III | An Ode to Nipples

Warnings: 18+ explicitly written accounts of sex acts and male masturbation, John Egan going on too long about nipples to make up for Julie doubting he liked hers, a joke about their censor wanting to harm himself.

Previous Letter 💌

Full co-authored with my baby @stylespresleyhearted …in fact, majorly authored by her with me only tinkering, she has these two down to a science and let’s all make her take a bow

My dearest,

In trying to be a gentleman it seems I have offended you and for that I must once again apologize. I never meant to make you doubt yourself or that lovely photograph

-I swear to you I sleep with it in my fist, clutched to my chest every night. So no, you see, you can’t have it back. I've already warned everyone else I'll kill them if they ever even try to peek. Balls are on the line for even coming within a yard of my foot locker. I am your virtue’s most valiant defender. Lucky for us, my bunkmate Lt. John Brady is a good man. No threats needed from me to ensure he keeps a wide berth from my new possessions. He’s a good kid - looks up to me according to Buck and that’s a scary thought in itself.

Oh Jean this just all feels like a dream and I’d be heartbroken upon waking up. Buck convinced me to try to be better, that a woman of your status and money and loveliness deserved someone who wouldn’t ramble about giving you babies and A.C.O.R.N but be assured I’ve smacked Buck around the head since because his advice made me hurt you.

It was gut instinct to first write you, and it wasn’t pretty when I did, but if it matched yours, then maybe our guts belong together, no sprucing up needed. I’ll try to keep it that way, I’ll try to keep spilling my guts to you, if that's what you want.

Since receiving your photograph I find myself unable to be satisfied by my doing or anyone else’s. It may interest you to know I went to the bar last Thursday and strenuously chatted up a girl there who had the largest breasts around, but still they and she did not compare to you.

I found myself thinking yours would bounce and hit your chin, and I’d be a gentleman and hold them for you.

Don’t take me wrong, the dame was a good time and she took real good care of me. Let me slip in between her beautiful pair and let me call her by your name.

But she was not you, Acorn, and so I was still left hard as rod and needing more. Needing you. My hand does nothing for me either anymore and all my thoughts are only of you and your magnificent pair that you deemed me worthy enough to look at. And oh Julie, how I look at you! I wonder if you’d blush or just be pleased.

I wrap my hand around myself and I squeeze and I tug and I pull and it takes about three rounds before the little major goes down. Buck tells me I’m going to start chafing soon enough if I keep it up. I’m telling you this in pure honesty and because thinking of you believing for a second that you aren’t the epitome of the dream girl for me kills me. It hurts, Julie Jean and I’ve never hurt for a girl before. Maybe for girls back during my school days but nothing like this and it’s been so long now I can barely remember it.

Women now, as beautiful and charming and smart as they are, they do just to pass the time but you are different. And I promise here and now Miss Turner, that I vow to never try to impress you or be any more of a gentleman than I am. I will be honest with my desires regarding you like telling you I had a dream you took me in that pouty mouth of yours and you were making the most obscene sounds but I knew you were only asking for more. You don’t remember meeting me at the canteen but I remember how tiny you are compared to me and it’d be a struggle to fit all of me in you but we would make it work. Neither of us are ones to give up.

This dream was the first night since my first mission that I haven’t had a nightmare without having to drink.

You’re a goddamn tonic, baby cakes.

I dream of those large nipples of yours and of being able to take them in my mouth. Of tugging on them until they become tiny and angry and pointy. I could entertain myself with them for hours. Since receiving your letter and reading your insecurities on paper that I left you with, I've hated myself every day and I fear I will hate myself until I hear from you again. I hope to hear from you again, Julie. I really do. In this lifestyle it’s frightening for me to think about getting to have a future but you are the light at the end of all this fucked up tragedy I’m surrounded by. Don’t give up on me, Julie Jean, my heart couldn’t bear it. It’s become unalterably attached to you, I swear it. The only gal whose arms I want to come home to are yours. It’d be an immeasurable dream come true; the sweetest reward after the war.

Until I hear from you again my loveliest, favorite lady.

Your fool only,

John

P.S. attached is a photo of me and another one of me and Buck taken by one of our fellow men. I’ve never been one to shy away from anything in life so I’m not afraid to embarrass myself for you and let you know that big, doofus smile on my face (one that usually only a call from my mother or a snarky remark from Buck can illicit) is because the boys were ribbing me about you, Jean. It’s what thinking of you does to me; it brings me happiness during these trying times. Don’t mind Buck. He’s blushing because I’m reminding him he also took great interest in the photograph you gifted me. I’m sorry for that acorn, it fell out of the envelope and he picked it up but it isn’t something I'm sharing with anyone as I’ve assured you. Goodbye for now, sweetest, prettiest, favoritest of ladies -because it is just for now, you’ll hear from me again if I don’t hear from ya first, and with that I fear we’ve just committed our poor censor to the noose.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[morg-among-the-stars]

Everything Under Control, Growing into Autistic Young Adulthood

I’m turning 20 this year, I live at home. I’m working through community college and planning to transfer to a four-year school.

It’s set quite clearly what my pathway is: get good grades, transfer, live at home until I graduate college.

Then, I can start to branch out into proper independence, maybe live on my own, or sort out living with my partner, something of the sort. It’ll be my decision.

I’m passive in discussing it all. In the loving words of my girlfriend, I don’t seem “too jazzed about it.”

And they’re right.

I’m passive for a reason, I’m letting it go on by me because what I want doesn’t make much sense, at least to my parents.

In a completely ideal world, I would work a library job and be able to write on the side, maybe free-lance or journaling, I haven’t decided.

But I can’t tell a person I’m an English major without the dreaded, “Oh, so you want to be a teacher!” talk (I’m not discrediting teachers, we need them! It’s just… always the first thing people think when anyone says they’re pursuing English, and my parents don’t help with that, necessarily).

I’m held back in redundant ways because I’m on the spectrum. I wasn’t trusted to cook until recently, just as one example. Recently. I’m going to be 20 this year.

I’m second guessed constantly, even about things I know as facts. My own interests are a big one, anything I say about my own special interests, my parents have my sister fact-check. You wouldn’t fact check a mechanic about cars, would you? Why are you fact checking my knowledge? (The ironic thing is that outside of my family, I’m completely respected in my knowledge. My good friend @turniptitaness jokingly calls me the Ambassador for The Politician, and while that title is said in a joking manner, I’m at least not second guessed in a thing I’m known for knowing a lot about. That’s only one example.)

I have to walk this line, too, this line between “too autistic” and “not autistic enough.” Which is hard, because I’m autistic no matter what. I’ve learned quickly that stimming or infodumping are frowned upon in my home, so I don’t do them. But that bites me in the ass because then I’m “barely autistic,” whatever that means. There’s a redundant measurement of my autism that’s been put on to me.

By other people. I don’t even get a say in my own autism advocacy or my own autistic joy, because in my house, autistic joy rarely exists. It’s only ever brought up as a negative. “Morgan struggles in school, she’s autistic.”

The writing achievements I’ve gained throughout school, for example, even when being about special interests, have nothing to do with autism. But they do, inherently. Writing an analytical paper about a special interest, recalling scenes from memory, was due to my intense passion.

It’s a terrible line to walk. I have to take pride in not having accommodations because it helps me to “blend in” more.

No one has considered whether I really care about blending in, appearing “normal.”

To a degree, of course I do. Of course I want to present myself in a respectful way.

But I, me, Morgan in my own mind, do not care if I get weird looks from people if I stim.

I don’t care if I “look autistic.” I am autistic. There is no look.

In myself, I’m proud of talking about it. I don’t want to hide it.

And I’m not going to lie, I have moments of sensory overload, sometimes bad sensory days in total. Where I wake up and can feel so viscerally uncomfortable in my own skin that I don’t want to get out of bed and become overwhelmed by the smallest of things.

But I can’t express that, either. When my disability, is disabling, I can’t talk about it.

Walk that fine line.

Everything under control.

A lot of it out of my control.

When it’s my life at the end of the day.

[illandtired]

about me<3 (tw)

Hello, I’m 17 and I’m gonna try to take my life again on my 18th birthday.

(Sorry, this jumps around a lot.)

(And it’s long….)

Also heavy topics, literally almost every trigger warning in the book.

This blog is gonna literally be my diary. I’ve attempted to make me life multiple times in the past for multiple different reasons.

I’m seventeen and I currently live alone in my mother’s house, she lives with her boyfriend. I had my biological dad who left before I was born and two step fathers. The only one I “care” about is my most recent. He entered my life when I was 6 and since then I tried telling my mother about him but for some reason it took until I was 16 for her to divorce him. He abused me severely. When I told him I was suicidal the first time he said he was gonna go get his gun then proceeded to make me beg for my life. I was I believe 12 or 13, a lot of it’s a blur like most of my life.

I don’t want to go too much into my past and make this too long, I started smoking weed in 8th grade. By 9th I was doing lines of random shit I got from kids at school off the bathroom toilets. I have touched most stuff besides heroin. The one drug I promised my mother I would stay away from. Currently I am still hooked on opioids, SSRIs, and I smoke weed/thc carts every day.

I was 6 when I was diagnosed with adhd, severe anxiety and depression. I haven’t seen a doctor since. My mother swears she’s trying to get me in but she always complains about how much my meds cost. She knows my worries about my mental state and I swear it’s impossible to get the help I need.

I’ve always been a paranoid person but it’s getting worse by the day. I’m genuinely too scared to take the trash out because I feel 800 eyes on me. I feel like there’s invisible people constantly around me judging my every move. I don’t feel real some times, and not that life is a simulation shit, I genuinely don’t feel like I’m in my body.

I started self harming in 3rd grade. It started as me being a wrist and head banger but by 5th grade I had started using thumb tacks and scratching myself. I went to my step father and he told me they weren’t Deep enough and I was just looking for attention. By 6th grade I was actually cutting, but only to where I barely saw the blood. By 8th it got to the point where I needed to see the blood run. But I’ve managed to get back to only getting it to bead up, occasionally running. I was clean for quite a few months but the smallest, SMALEST thing can set me back so much.

I’ve struggled my entire life with starving myself, binge eating, then starving myself. I’ve been an unhealthy weight a lot of my life. I’m around 240lbs now, my eating disorder is mainly starving now. My “Binges” are now small.

I have never been able to make a phone call to someone besides friends. Even family calls are hard a lot. I can barely order food at a restaurant, fancy or McDonald’s.

I’ve made money in my life from stealing, I’ve been a kleptomaniac for as long as I can remember. But I also made money doing bakery stuff for my mother, doing mechanical stuff, and babysitting. My only “legal” job was working at McDonald’s. I got fired a year after starting because we had a new manager who fired me over homophobic reasons. I hated going to work. I loved the work itself, but I hated having to be around anyone.

I’ve always been called lazy. And I feel like it’s true, I can barely find the motivation to get up to take a piss most days. I had such a hard time with organization and cleanliness as a kid so I always had a messy room, unless it was right after one of the days I got my stuff thrown away.

I never payed attention in school yet I somehow got straight As until i genuinely didn’t care anymore. I dropped out 10th grade on my 16th birthday. School was so much worse for my mental health. I was self harming almost every day, lying to myself about who I am to fit in.

I actually love learning, I wanted to get into nursing school but I know I’ll never get clean enough. I even study biology, trig, physics, crime scene investigation, all sorts of stuff. I have notebooks and notebooks that I’ve filled with information I’ll never use.

I was 10 when I got my first boyfriend. He was 18, a relationship on discord. It lasted a couple years at least. I was sexually assaulted multiple times growing up and I don’t wanna go into more detail in this post. But due to my sexual trauma i became very hyper sexual very young. I still am to this day, I sell pictures to creepy men online because I know I won’t be able to get any other job. But at the same time it’s basically been implemented in my brain I’m good for sex and nothing more. I feel so utterly disgusted with myself after every sexual experience in my life from sex to just sending nudes.

I grew up a chubby girl with big tits. It was 6th grade i started having boys desperate to touch them. I had Ds by then. I’m a F-G now (depends on the bra). My own step father and his sons who were much older than me started sexualizing me when I was about 13. One of my step brother was creepy since he entered my life.

I’ve had so many important parts of my life taken from me. My Virginity with a man was raped away when I was 14 on Christmas. My self worth was barely existent but it was gone completely by 9th grade. My first “good boyfriend” was when I was 15, he was 18. He filmed us one night after I asked him not to multiple times, but the next day a video of me having my brains fucked out was all over my school. It was a smaller school, but even some of the female teachers sided with him because he was the “king” of the school. I missed my middle school graduation which doesn’t seem like much to most people, but I knew I was going to drop out and never have a high school graduation. I was even selected to write a speech and go up and speak at the podium but due to anxiety from both situations I missed the whole thing entirely because I tried to kill myself that night.

Most of my attempts have been overdose attempts, and that’s for a reason. I couldn’t imagine my mother finding me and my brains splattered on the wall. But out of everything, no it’s not my mother that’s kept me alive. It’s been my best friend. I live in the states and he lives in Scotland. We’ve been friends for years, we met through my ex and were completely like the opposite of each other but we care about each other. And unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to meet him. We were going to meet when I turn eighteen because he’ll be turning 21 and can legally drink here, I can legally drink there.

I care about nothing more than him and it pains me that I know he will be disappointed when he realizes I gave up. I don’t plan on telling him anything.. we have a thing where if he’s gone for a month he’s on a mental health break, but two months he’s dead and I have his permission to kill myself. I’m going to tell him he has to wait a year for me because I might be in the mental hospital.

Back to simple things I can’t do, I would rather claw my own eyes out than be alone with a man in a room. But my best friend is the one exception. I haven’t gone on a date since new years. As soon as we got to his house, it wasn’t even 5 minutes before he had a gun pressed in my side.

Yet at the same time I feel like my only purpose is to make men happy in any way I can. Even if it makes me uncomfortable and I don’t want to do it. Because that’s all I’ve ever been good at and praised for.

There was about a week in my life and it was somewhat recent. I told myself I wasn’t going to attempt again because no matter what life won’t suck that bad. Being homeless was the happiest time of my life, sure I can be on the street and cold, no money, but I no longer have responsibilities and I get to walk which I love doing. I used to sneak out at night and go on long ass walks normally from 10pm to 3-5am.

More things about substances, once again I’m sorry for jumping around. I started smoking cigarettes in 6th grade, provided by my step father and girlfriend. I started drinking in 8th grade but now it takes half a bottle of tequila for me to be at a happy level of drunk. Or 4 bottles of cheap wine, or an entire bottle of rum. Anyways I feel like I’m rambling on and on so I’m gonna try to wrap this up.

What’s the main reason I want to kill myself? Because I know I will never be able to live a normal life. But my one goal as a kid was to make it to 18.

[ruminate88]

Inner Child Wounds: plus toxic relationships 11/08/24

First of all you’re not crazy and whatever happened to you or was told to you as a child is real OK? So I was labeled in school with a “learning disability” and of course, my family was not receptive of that and worked very hard to get me out of that. My mom understood the label, but she worked with me to get beyond it. My dad didn’t really work with me at all. He just treated me like nothing was wrong with me and would get frustrated at me when I couldn’t do quick math or when I cried not to go to school! It’s like my dad wouldn’t accept that school was hard for me…

my brother was probably the most gentle with me as he had a big heart and felt bad for me because he didn’t have any of those struggles. My brother barely tried and STILL got good grades plus he was popular in school.. I was the complete opposite of my brother 😫 I do believe in overcoming labels, but when you’re such a young child and your brain is still developing, and you’re growing, to be told that you are basically “stupid” that really impacts you in a great way there’s no denying that!

The problem is throughout my teenage and adult years, often times I get triggered when people would do or say something that causes me to look or feel stupid… often my mom would trigger me when she would want me to do something, and I felt like I couldn’t do it. I know it was frustrating for her all this time because no one wants their child to struggle.

same with my relationships; dating these toxic men who treat me like I’m 100% stupid 🥺because I’m such a nice person and back then I was pretty naïve too. I didn’t know anything about toxic relationships and I thought when you told somebody you loved them that it was serious. 🧐 I didn’t think it was a joke. The joke is on them because I have a loving heart despite any struggles either of us had and I’m not stupid I knew that things were not altogether right with them especially the way my ex Andrew got angry when I found his mom’s Facebook…. 😳 I felt like he was clearly protecting his mom and I didn’t know why, but I wasn’t born yesterday….

People take your kindness for weakness. Also people invalidate you when they ignore your struggles. I’ve even had an Aunt tell me before that basically I am a genius that school mislabeled me and that the reason I struggled so much in school is because I have a different way of learning that only a genius would have which lol 😂 it is sweet and kind of funny but kind of weird too … if anything, I’m a visual and hands-on learner. I’m not a textbook learner. School tried to tell me that I was an audio learner and maybe I was when I was little, but I’m definitely not now. If you read a book to me out loud, it’ll go in one ear and out the other I need to see the pages for myself.

in overcoming labels, you do have to get to the root cause of all of it, which school labeled me and now that I’m an adult, I realize the most important things in life is: love, your family, knowing how to do simple math, and pay bills, knowing how to cook and clean and basically take care of yourself. Those are essentials for adulthood. The only way I would ever need advanced algebra or calculus is if I was some kind of rocket scientist!! I don’t know lol I don’t know what math is used in that 😝

At the end of the day, I can lay my head on the pillow and know that I have tried to treat people rightly, and that not everyone understands or relates to you… you know I never felt good enough as a child because of how school labeled me so when my ex Andrew kept telling me he’s “not good enough”, I laughed out loud because I feel the same way but yet I accepted him and that’s what hurt me sooooo much is that not only did I get it and accept him BUT then for him to turn around and be so cold to me like bro I’m on your side. It’s not even cool for you to treat me this way. Are you seriously gonna find another girl that will try to relate to you and care about you in your darkest moments? It’s your loss, not mine. (Think he just wasn’t ready back then to be so serious with me)

I’m growing every day and I’m becoming self-aware of ALL these childhood things that I need to heal and I’m working on myself every day, but I’m not perfect. No one is. Don’t hate my ex and I’m not trying to judge him. Whatever he needs in life, I hope it comes to him with ease ❤️‍🩹 I hope he FINALLY feels good enough 🙏🏻 God please no matter how bad he hurt me; I want him to be ok with you and to be well in his soul healthy and strong.

don’t give up on people just because you don’t believe or have hope. Hope is always there but you gotta hold onto it. Not hope to reconnect or be “lovers” again… just hope that the person who hurt you can become a better person for themselves.

[ramblesofakio]

We love having the idea of having kids within our future, when we’re ready for them. But I’ve learned that taking care of someone else’s kids when you’re not ready for them or easily burnt out is a literal nightmare.

I am too anxious to work, so I was given the task of taking care of children because of this. I regret not working.

I feel bad because our wife is also burnt out. We aren’t getting paid. We’re getting bribes. Yes, we have a roof over our heads and I’m thankful for that, but it should not be my place to make sure that I am getting the eldest to school on time, I should not have to teach the youngest how to eat from a spoon or talk.

Ita gotten to the point where I feel like we’ll never be ready to have kids. Someone had agreed to it because it got us out of working. I’m regretting it immensely…

There is only so much I can do for myself. Caring this much for two kids when I’m exhausted and not able to do anything also feels like it’s taking a toll on my relationship with my wife. We can’t have dates because we have to take care of the kids while their parents are at work. The weekend is where we try and move past our overstimulation, barely even able to spend time with each other because we’re both resting or having troubles actually spending time with each other because we can’t deal with anymore contact.

And I appreciate that my wife is also letting me get a break but I feel shitty for not being able to give them one in turn.

I feel like we’re both step-in parents when neither of us were ready. There is no break. There is nothing we can do. We’re both exhausted and we can’t get a break.

It’s terrible. I’m glad that we’re here to take care of them, but I wish their parents especially their mother, would step in and do something.

I cannot manage my life with kids. I am struggling with my own mental health, but I do not have the time and struggle to make the time due to making sure the kids are alright.

And it’s painful.

I love them to pieces, I love them like they’re my own, but I can’t continue it and I can’t say anything because when my wife goes to work, I will be the only one here to care for them. And I don’t know what to do. Because as much as I want to tell myself it’s easy, it’s not.

And times like these, I feel like I will never be ready for kids. I will never want kids. I will never be well enough for kids even though I want a family. And I hate that because I want a family yet I don’t think I’ll ever be cut out for one now.

- 愛

[mental-health-advice]

🌻I'm autistic mid to high support needs. I'm 24yo and trying but failing to live alone and take care of myself, and with medication and therapy. Still struggling to graduate from my undergrad. Four of my five best friends from high school, who I only talk to once a year or so, are engaged now. One of them is getting married later this year. I feel like a failure. I know I have a disability but I still feel like I'm disappointing everyone. I've never dated. I struggle to make friends, though now I have made amazing friendships and I appreciate them. But I can barely see my future and it upsets me. I don't feel like I'm good enough to anyone.

Hey there,

I think that it is hard for anyone who have majority of their friends who are engaged when you are not, but in your situation and having a disability on top of that must be even tougher. I want you to know though that things won’t always feel so drab and like you won’t have a good life like your friends, sometimes it just takes a while longer for some people to see the brighter side of life!

I think it’s great that you are at college, despite the fact you may be struggling at the moment. Are you able to take some time off or drop a few classes and just focus on 1 or 2 at a time? I know that this may mean it will take even longer for you to then complete your undergrad but sometimes just chipping away at things slowly is better than putting ourselves under more stress and trying to complete everything at once. So maybe it may be worth to explore your options and see what would suit you best. It doesn’t matter how long it may take you to graduate, just take it one day at a time and do what you can to the best of your ability – you’ve got this!

To have a goal to live alone is great but you mentioned that you are struggling with this at the moment. Again, can you think of what it may look like for you to succeed in living alone? Once thinking about what may make it easier for you, things you could implement to make this work, it will hopefully help it to feel more achievable for you to work towards, even if it means first living in supported accommodation to begin with until you feel able to live alone and still be able to look after yourself. Remember too that you can live alone and still have support! For example, I live alone and have a support worker come over 3 times a week to help out, give me some company and just to help to improve my mental health overall. Is this something you could look into?

To feel like you are a disappointment to others and not being able to see your future clearly right now, I think that it’s important to try to challenge these views you have about yourself. So for example, feeling like you are a disappointment to others – try to look back to what you have so far achieved in life, the fact you do have good friends even if you don’t see them regularly and also the fact you got into college as I know that a lot of people do not get that opportunity. And in regards to feeling as though you don’t have a future – have goals that you can work towards, like finishing your undergrad over time and being able to successfully live alone even if it means having some type of support and help from others. By simply trying to change our view on things we can really turn things around in our minds and feel a bit more positive and optimistic about things in life.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please od let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren

[ejaydoeshisbest]

What My Special Needs Brother Has Taught Me

I am making peace with the reality of taking care of my special needs brother as we get older in years. For context, I am turning thirty this year, 2024.

I am already imagining us in the future; all grey hairs and wrinkled skin. Our joints aching, and he, whining and complaining.

I will still be preparing his meals because my brother is afraid of hot oil and the heat coming from the stove.

I will spend most of my money on his medicines unless a good government program finally helps to assist autistic elders in the Philippines.

I will still work a decent-paying job to provide for his basic needs and if I have some extra, maybe I could put in a good insurance company and HMO.

My best hope is for him to become independent and find good work on his own, of course. But if he doesn’t, then I have to make sure we both don’t suffer.

Personal Struggles with Accepting Responsibility

If you were to ask someone stronger, more mature, and more resilient than me about the challenges of caring for someone in the family who has special needs, they would probably say that it is a blessing and their personal calling.

They probably would accept the responsibility with pride. If ever they doubted, or feared, or felt moments of weakness, I’d like to think they would carry on sacrificing a major chunk of their lives for the benefit of the whole family.

If you would have asked me the same question some months ago, I would have glumly replied that I have no choice.

For the longest time, I was a weak, self-centered person. I put myself first above others and fled at the first sensations of a binding responsibility, especially if I felt that it was a heavy burden to carry on my own.

For a long while, too, I resented my special needs brother and my parents.

I didn’t ask to be their eldest child who was supposed to support a special needs sibling for the rest of my life. To be fair, they weren’t forcing me, but the passive aggressiveness and guilt-tripping tactic was just as effective.

I thought that my brother would keep me from living my best life, that he would hold me back from so many opportunities and wonderful adventures. Providing for his needs meant sacrificing a lot of my free time and freedom.

Now, though, I have begun to settle into the role of helper or caretaker around the house.

Perhaps it was time. Perhaps it was age or biology or a combination of all three.

It has been difficult. It still is. True enough, it meant a lot of sacrifices; personal time, days off, simple pleasures, creative hobbies, and other projects. But there will be no one to bear this burden but the family members who will remain.

I’m finding the peace in accepting that. But it doesn’t erase the fears I still hold to this day.

My Fears of Taking Care of a Special Needs Sibling

Expenses

Raising special needs children, children with disabilities, children on the autism spectrum, neurodiverse kids, or whatever term one chooses to describe their current situation is more expensive than neurotypical, “normal” children. Some, if not most, need constant supervision for the rest of their lives.

They need different therapies to improve speech, movement, and other behaviors to be functional in a public setting.

Then you need teachers with specialized training to educate them in the hopes that they would use those skills to achieve full or partial independence.

Though my brother went to a specialized school with competent, kind, compassionate teachers, all the expenses came from my father’s pocket, without help from the government. At least, to the best of my knowledge. He worked hard so my brother got the proper education he needed.

Living in the Philippines is hard enough for lower-middle-class families like ours. I can barely scrape by with the meager salary that I had during my last job before I tried freelancing. I don’t feel confident that I’ll have the kind of money that my father had in his youth, so I’m scared that I might not provide for my brother’s future needs.

And those needs will grow more expensive as we both age. That is why I fear our future expenses.

Lack of Government Support

I’m not the type to blame the government for everything, but reading a recent article still showed the lack of progress or any concrete plan for assisting Persons with Disabilities (PWDs) in the country.

The news article stated that there aren’t enough “full-fledged learning centers for learners with disabilities in every locality due to the shortage of health professionals who can assess children with special needs”.

After reading that, I worried that there was still a lack of government support for adults with autism who are capable of working a simple job.

My brother isn’t on the severe side of the autism spectrum, you see. He can talk, and dance, and understand you, just as long as you talk simply. He could still write his name, albeit squiggly. He can understand movies and children’s books. He can understand simple orders.

I am grateful that at least he doesn’t need round-the-clock attention. But I’m afraid that if he doesn’t use the skills he learned in school, he will end up losing confidence in himself, and forget the skills he acquired in the expensive school.

While I’ve read that the popular shopping malls in the country have been hiring people on the autism spectrum since 2016, I have yet to personally encounter actual adults with autism working in the many malls that I visited. I’m not sure the information holds up now.

I don’t know if the Philippines would ever have a professional kind of assisted living program for the mentally challenged or disabled. But it would be a great burden off the parent or guardian’s shoulders if there were indeed competent caretakers to watch over the special needs individual as they make ends meet.

Then again, these facilities cost quite a lot of money. It would be up to the government, along with the rest of society, to share this burden to improve the quality of lives of all. I’m willing to do my part as well.

The only benefit from the government that helped somewhat was the discounts on bills and groceries when I presented my brother’s PWD ID at the cashier.

I shiver to think what would happen if there was no government aid at all. I don’t want to be one of those elderly people I see on the news. The ones who are in their 80s and 90s still taking care of an autistic aging adult.

My Own Physical Health Limitations

My brother is physically stronger than me. Ever since I was a small child, I was a weakling. I remember the years when every morning, my breakfast was thirty minutes of nebulizer and my dinner was a nightly dose of preventive inhalers.

I’m grateful that I’ve grown out of those severe asthma attacks, but no one can say for certain if it will come back with a vengeance. I hope not, for my family’s sake.

Still, I’m afraid that my health could not keep up with the demands of a full-time job, and some side hustles to help with the finances, while also taking care of myself, having a social life, and taking care of my brother.

It feels like I already have a child with no partner to help me.

All this pressure is taking a toll on my mental capabilities as well. If I don’t stop overthinking, then it will only cause further strain and negatively impact my health.

I need to train my mind to become resilient.

Ironically, that is what my brother is teaching me the more I reflect on how to better care for him and address his needs.

What My Special Needs Brother is Teaching Me

Accept Responsibility and Face Reality

I have learned that accepting responsibility and forcing myself to not overthink about the future and every little detail that irritates me takes a load off the mental and physical stress.

Would it be nice for government assistance? Yes. Would it be nice if my parents set up funds for his future? Definitely.

But that isn’t my reality. All I can do is focus on what I can do at the moment. It may not be enough but at least it’s a plan. Plans still count as something.

I also realized that things will get worse if I choose to run away from my problems. For years, I hoped that it would resolve on its own as I faced my own challenges. I hoped that a solution will fall from the sky and save us all. I hoped that my parents would think of something grand.

Again, the reality of our situation is that it won’t get any better if I don’t contribute.

The reality is that my parents are getting more lines on their faces with each season. Grey hairs are growing faster than they can color them. Their skin is sagging.

I feel myself getting older too. I am on the last stretch of my 20s. I better contribute to the family while I still have remaining strength.

That is why when well-meaning people insist that it really isn’t my responsibility to care for my special needs brother, I tell them that I am not comfortable abandoning them altogether. I need to be present to tackle all the problems on hand so that my aging parents would not suffer.

It may not be my fault that I am physically weaker than average and that my brother has special needs, but it is still my responsibility to act.

That’s just acting like a decent human being and as a good brother.

Besides, we’re Filipinos. It’s ingrained in our culture and tradition to stick together. Unless the family is downright toxic, then by all means, cut them off.

Furthermore, I did my years of selfishness. I partied. I played games to my heart’s content. None of it was fulfilling. All of it was wasted hours and days on cheap dopamine.

I had fun at the moment, but the pain multiplied depending on the time I had delayed addressing important obligations.

In my defense, it wasn’t like I was delaying gratification. I treated these simple pleasures as rewards for being an adult. Still, I admit that there was selfishness there.

Lastly, I have no interest at all in starting my own family. I’m happy being single for the rest of my life. I am an antinatalist, after all. Maybe this is the universe’s way of balancing things out.

Build Strength and Resilience

I used to have this victim mindset all the time. But taking care of my brother grants me a new perspective in life.

It forces me to look for solutions, instead of dwelling on problems. It forces me to become positive and helps me access this delusional confidence to survive and to keep showing up for work.

I realized I am more motivated to finish things and stick with my chosen struggles if it means supporting someone else. It makes things worth doing. It gives me strength and purpose.

I’m aware that helping others boost overall mood, but I’m not doing it for that. I’m not helping because I want that surge of positivity.

I’m helping out of love and out of reciprocation for the sacrifices my parents had made.

I'm helping because I have a lot of years to make up for.

Live with Hope

My special needs brother makes me see what matters most in life.

It’s about bringing people together and trying your best to protect them. It’s about sharing the load with others. It’s about giving more than you take.

It’s about living life one day at a time; to be comfortable with the lows and to enjoy the highs. It’s about never giving up and always believing in the power of hope, that whatever happens, we’ll get through this together.

It’s about honoring the sacrifices of my father and mother, cultivating a strong support system, and being a support system in return.

It may not completely erase all my fears, but living with hope manages them enough so that I have the determination to pick myself up every day and continue focusing on the present. And hope that all my efforts will count for great things in the future.

There are no guarantees, I know. But it won’t stop me from working.

Having said that, I’m not going to overwork myself. That in itself is a bad strategy. Balance would be the key here.

Work the hours, clock out, live well below our means, cook healthy meals, and ask for help when needed.

Be Sympathetic

Sympathetic. Empathetic. Compassionate. Kind. Patient.

Helping care for my special needs brother has let me release some of the negativity in me.

With a background in dramatic storytelling and a short stint as a PR writer, one of my major roles was reading and researching all the negativity in the news to hook people’s attention.

Maybe I had absorbed too much negativity that I viewed my life bleakly.

I had become jaded and toxic to the point that I had to be less sensitive to the plight of others to protect whatever pool of emotions I had left, which, ironically, made me seem dull, insensitive, and an emotionless husk.

I viewed my life with crushed hopes and broken dreams.

Now, I am re-learning how to search for the silver lining in each situation. I am re-learning to be more understanding towards hostility. I will still fight back even if it means defending myself and my time, but I am more reflective of such negative encounters.

I understand that we’re all lost, alone, and confused. I understand that we either lash out or keep our emotions bottled up.

Helping take care of my brother, I sometimes see that I’ve wasted so much of my energy on negativity and toxic behaviors. I am learning how to let go.

I would also add that I have a rocky, tumultuous relationship with my father. But the care he provided for my brother humanizes him. I still hate the guy, but I respect his sacrifices.

Conclusion

I still have a lot to learn. Every day is filled with frustrations. But without my brother, I am still stuck being a self-centered, hedonistic individual, afraid to face the reality of the past before it haunts him in his future.

Because of him, I am willing to do my best each day, good or bad, and to have faith that I can overcome obstacles.

Words: Ejay Diwas

Art: Viviai Art

[themostsensitivegirlintheworld]

first post

I’m in a really bad way right now. Suicidal even. I’m not going to kill myself. But the thought of how it would end this fucking cycle has crossed my mind more than a few times in the past few days. It’s a good thing that I’m too scared to die. I thought about cutting myself. Then I thought about why I would be doing it and I usually hear people say it’s to “feel something,” but to me, it’s to punish myself. Punish myself for being ungrateful. Punish myself for not being patient with my dogs when I was the one who chose to get them. Punish myself for being frustrated with my job that I didn’t get a thank you. Punish myself for not putting myself out there and then feeling lonely because I don’t have a partner. Punish myself for not taking care of my body when I have every tool and opportunity to do so. Punish myself for being stubborn. Punish myself for not finishing what I start. Punishing myself for saying no to three separate invitations for Christmas Eve and Christmas, but saying no to all of them. I could keep going. So, I will. Here are other things that make me feel like shit and like I need a punch to the dome: I make a good amount of money, but I’m always broke, so I never have money. I play both sides of the fence. Not on purpose but doesn’t that make it worse? I talk about being nice and then am so mean in my head. I talk so much shit. I talk so much. I do NOT give my dogs the attention that they deserve. I never walk them. I take up new hobbies, make them my entire personality, then abandon them. I’m not finishing dog training school. I have several good friends, but never reach out to them to make plans, but they still include me. I’m insanely jealous and insecure about everything. I’m sitting here in my own home, typing on my own computer, sitting on my own couch, with my three dogs, and a car outside, and I’m still selfishly depressed. I should feel lucky. But I don’t. I’m constantly feeling bad for myself and constantly looking for the attention that I absolutely did not get as a child. Wonder when that will go away. I can’t focus on anything, ever. I don’t even know if the Ritalin I’m taking is working or making it worse or nothing at all. I won’t stop taking it, because it keeps me skinny enough to where I can actually like myself sometimes. Looking at my social media, you’d think that I am this honest, laid back, smart, confident woman, which I am not. Social media is such a fraud. Yet, living alone, it’s the only way that I feel like I can feel like I’m not completely alone in the world. But subconsciously, I know it’s making it worse. I always have my eyes on some sort of screen. God forbid an actual thought creeps through. I order takeout all the time. I have barely any money but I’d probably order it tonight and tomorrow if it wasn’t Christmas Eve. 

People say to reach out when you’re struggling, but I already hate myself. The thought of reaching out to a friend while they’re all enjoying the holidays with their friends & families, to ask them to stop and pay attention to me feels….. like it will definitely make me hate myself even more. I haven’t had human interaction in about 4 days. This is my own fault as well. I’m lonely, but I isolate myself. I have plenty of opportunities to go out and be with people, but then I would have to perform and keep my mask up and I’m already so exhausted. I’ve been hyper-focused on how performative my entire life has been up to this point. I think most people call it “being present,” but I never liked that phrase. It sounds like an action that I can take to fix everything and I never quite understood it. It felt like homework. When I think of not being performative or even try it for a few seconds in public, it feels freeing. Too freeing. Like if I let it go on for another second or two, I’d get taken away in a padded truck to the looney bin. I am so afraid of letting anyone see the real me. I’d go so far as to say that no one has ever seen it. I’m sure that’s what’s holding me back from having any sort of meaningful relationship.

All I want is my person. I want my partner and best friend. Not some dude from a dating app that sort of works. I want it to be fairytale rom-com love. I want a meet-cute. I want to have that partner that takes candid photos of me and tells me how beautiful I look when I truly think I look hideous. I want that partner that I don’t have to perform for and they love me because of that. It feels like so many people around me have found that and I haven’t. They all tell me that I need to put myself out there more, but most of them didn’t find their significant others by puTtinG ThEmSelVes oUt ThEre, so they can fuck right off. Most of them met through friends or in high school or some other happenstance. Not because they went to a cookout looking to meet their future spouse.

I’ve been thinking a lot about being a writer lately. I read some quote from someone recently saying that they became a writer when they were 38. Which is my age. Then I’ve had a few people tell me that I should be a writer based off of social media posts, which is arguably the best compliment that I could get. The thing is… I don’t know where to start. I don’t think I’d want to share this piece that I’m writing right now. Maybe anonymously, but certainly not with my own name. Too many people would worry about me. Maybe a pen name? Or an anonymous blog? But then how do I get it out there so people can see it? In my fantasies, I’m a column writer or a freelance writer that is known for my raw and relatable emotion that comes through in my writing. It helps people. It makes people realize that they’re not alone. Eventually, I am known by my own name and I write a book or a memoir. Or I write pieces for the New York Times or Time Magazine. Or Rolling Stone. Pieces about emotional topics. But I don’t know if I can even write well when I’m not in an overly-emotional state. What would I do, only write very specific articles based on my moods? Maybe I’ll publish this anonymously and people can tell me what they think. 

I thought about entering writing contests and looked some up. But I’ve never had any formal training, so I feel like an imposter. BIG SHOCKER. I did see some of those monetary prizes, though, and that made it a bit more appealing. Is this a real dream or just another one of my ADHD fixations? What if I’m actually terrible and I’m one of those people who has no self-awareness and then I’ll be absolutely mortified. I worry about these things. I’m a worrier. I always have been and probably always will be. I’ve been trying my entire life to be the cool, laid back, doesn’t need to talk all the time, chick, but I’ll be honest - I’m old and it hasn’t worked for more than a few minutes at a time. I know I should EmBraCe iT but that’s one of those things that is much easier said than done. 

I’ve always been “too much.” I talk too much. I’m an intense person. I talk loudly. I don’t have much of a filter, (and not in that cool edgy way but more like in that throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks type of way). My brain: have a joke? SAY IT. NOW. TO EVERYONE.” Most of them don’t land, but the few that do are pure endorphin bombs. I don’t really know what that means about me, but I know that when I can make someone laugh at something - like, genuinely laugh.. not a quick giggle - I am over the moon. I will tell that joke over and over and over to get that reaction. It’s gotta be comparable to what heroin feels like. 

I’ve always heard that comedians are the most depressed people and that makes sense for me. I’m funny. I know I’m funny. It’s the only thing that I like about myself most days. A lot of people use humor to deflect in situations where they’re uncomfortable, but I think the difference with comedians is that we use it in every situation. It just gets stronger the more uncomfortable the situation. I mean, I didn’t even absorb that fact that I have a lifelong degenerative disease for TEN FULL YEARS because my brain told me to joke about it the minute I got diagnosed. So I did. Ask anyone who’s been around me for more than a few minutes - I like to joke. I like to laugh and make people laugh. How ironic, that on the inside, I want to die most days. How ironic that people would be the least worried about someone like me because “she’s always laughing,” when in reality, most nights, I am by myself in my bed, eating something that I feel guilty about and wondering why I’m forever alone. I’ll be the loudest and most obnoxious one at the party, but as soon as I get in my car alone, it goes down the tubes and the other side emerges. It has great timing like that - only coming out when no one else is around to see it. This big black cloud that’s always a few feet behind me, but sometimes catches up and latches on for a few days or weeks. Depression. Another disease that I have. Most people do, but I think for most people, it’s situational. I’m the super lucky type that has it always and forever and extremely intensely. When it does catch up to me, like it did a few days ago, I become an isolated, unbathed, starved, angry, crying, pathetic shell of a human. And that’s what I’m teetering on the edge of currently. 

I’m hoping that going to the shelter tomorrow, (on Christmas Day), will help me pull myself out of this hole. My guess is that either I’ll cancel last-second or I’ll go and feel a little bit better for a day or maybe two, and then fall back into it again. The loneliness. It’s crushing me.

[diary-of-a-vampire]

Dear Diary #3,

10 September 2023

Today was a good day, I got a lot of work done and I really enjoyed it. However, I can’t sleep.

My head is so busy, and keeps thinking, quite overactive and not ready too sleep - yet my eyes are tired, and I want enough hours sleep so I know I’m well rested.

Songs replaying in my head, and thinking of school, homework and life. So many ideas I had to write them down a while ago. And even more thinking. Not in a bad way, but sometimes I think it’s useless, too much thinking - especially when you wish to sleep.

Then I just want to go on with my day or night and do my tasks, without being obsessively invested in it - or not at all, struggling to find motivation to even start. At least I’m happy it’s the first one, since it’s been the last one for the past few months. I know it’s all going up from here; even if I feel restless sometimes.

I’m not feeling bad, I just have so many drawing ideas. But there’s more to life than drawing, and shouldn’t I also be invested in more?

I don’t know. I guess it’s fine. Even if sometimes I wish I could be more in the middle - even if I’m proud of what I make and think of to make, and this is me.

I’m happy for autumn to start soon, so I can wear sweaters again and change my industrial piercing bar into another one since it’s fully healed by then.

I still wonder about love, if I’ll even find it - and lately, if I even care to find it. Don’t really know who I’m actually attracted to again, but planning to stay single for a while. I used to think about the concept of love a lot too, some months ago. But somehow it has vanished from my head, and I’m a bit lost when it comes to that.

I guess it’s fine, and I’ll just focus myself on school and art - I’ll try not to over-do it, even if I love it (I don’t however love the parts where I’m so invested that I barely take breaks, and get irritated fast).

And hope to sleep soon; so I can make some more homework, and be closer to having some free time to be creative for my own projects.

And maybe plan in some other things too.

[bitchesgetriches]

Take care of your body

Why You Should Take a Break: The Importance of Rest and Relaxation

I Think I Need to Go the Emergency Room?

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Ask the Bitches: Ugh, How Do I Build the Habit of Taking Meds?

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Survive in an Apartment with No Heat?

Take care of your mind

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Everything Is Stressful and I’m Dying: How to Survive a Panic Attack

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

Ask the Bitches: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Absolve Myself of Financial Guilt Over My Pricey PS4?

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

Update: I Know How to Struggle and Fight, but I Don’t Know How to Succeed

Take care of your time

Stop Measuring Your Time in Beyoncé Hours

Help! I’m Procrastinating and I Can’t Get Up!

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

Actually, Fuck Big Goals

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

I’ve Succeeded at Every New Year’s Resolution I’ve Ever Made. Here’s How.

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

8 Free Time Management Systems To Try in the New Year

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

I Am So Over Productivity Porn

Take care of your career

High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract

I Hate My Job and I Don’t Know How To Leave It: A Confession

A New Job, a New Day, a New Life, and I’m Feeling Good

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

Take care of your space

How to Successfully Work from Home Without Losing Your Goddamn Mind (Or Your Job)

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?

How To Maintain Your Car When You’re Barely Driving It

Take care of your people

How Dafuq Do Couples Share Their Money?

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

Love in the Time of Coronavirus: How to Protect Your Community and Your Soul from COVID-19

Be Somebody’s Eliza with a Simple Yet Life-Changing Act of Kindness

Take care of your financial well-being

Ask the Bitches: How Can I Make Myself Financially Secure Before Age 30?

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?

Slay Your Financial Vampires

Should Artists Ever Work for Free?

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Financial Math

Share My Horror at the World’s Worst Debt Visualization

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

[noodlescc]

Goodbye?

So this post is WAAAAAAY overdue but I felt like it was time to say something here... I’ve mentioned it on my main blog but I know not everyone who follows this is following that one. 

Long story short, I’m probably never going to post here again. I don’t want to say _never _because who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind, but for over a year now I have had no desire to work on CC or even mess with anything related to it. I’ve become extremely burnt out, and I’ve even reached the point where I’m fed up enough to probably stop playing TS4. 

I’ll go into more detail under the cut, but totally I understand if that doesn’t interest you. So just know that I appreciate all the love and support I’ve gotten over the years. This was an amazing era in my life and I’ll always look back on it fondly. I’ve made a lot of great friends through this process and it’s been so surreal at times. You’re all wonderful, and I wish I could continue, but I just can’t. Feel free to share/make edits to my CC as you wish. 

So I guess these are my main reasons:

Burnout: It hit me HARD: At my peak I was struggling to find a job and so I had a lot of time to dedicate to recoloring. I would jump on recoloring for packs the second S4S got updated. But now I can’t even bring myself to recolor or edit anything. I was actually in a really bad place mentally at my “peak” on this blog, and my life is so different now. I’m in therapy, I’m taking meds, and I’m feeling really good. And I’m just so busy with other things, the last thing I feel like doing after work/when I have free time is to work on CC.

TS4 is Super Broken: It becomes really frustrating when every new patch EA comes out with means that people have to come to your inbox to let you know that your stuff is broken. I don’t make mods, so I always foolishly assumed my stuff wouldn’t break. But then it did. And again. And again. And AGAIN. I can’t be active enough to stay on top of it anymore. And a lot of the time I straight up don’t know WHY my stuff doesn’t work, so I don’t know how to even approach fixing it. Then there’s the issue of having to post the update, hope people see it, and try to find a way to lead people who stumble across my blog from a youtube video or blog post that’s several years old to the most up-to-date version. Its too confusing for them and for me and I kind of hate having more than one post for the same item. 

I just don’t have the time anymore: I work a 40+ hour work week now, and then try to juggle my social life, chores at home, taking care of myself, and my hobbies. I barely play TS4 or get on my computer much anymore (my work is all computer based so sometimes I just want to do anything else when I get home). Its too the point that every time I’ve tried to play the game I have to update. I can’t keep up with all the changes the game is making, and I don’t even keep track of when packs come out anymore. PLUS I’m starting school again at the end of next month, and I’m still going to be working at my current job so I’m hardly going to have any free time coming up soon. 

I am giving up on TS4: this is mixed with #2. The game isn’t really fun. I lasted as long as I did because I wasn’t playing, I was making CC and staging story posts. I don’t have the time to really do either of those, but I can make some time to try and play for fun. But it’s not fun. And there seems to be game breaking bugs every other week now, and while the packs seem promising, they are riddled with bugs of their own. Not to mention the laundry list of things the team has promised they would go back and fix and just haven’t, and probably never will because they have to pump out 20 new kits before the end of the year. I’ve spent more money than I’d like to admit on this game, and I don’t even find it fun to play anymore. I made the mistake of getting back into TS3 and realizing that I actually enjoy that game, which just made it so clear to me how much I don’t enjoy TS4. So I’m saying goodbye to it. I’ve complained for long enough that it’s time to really do something about it. And this is that thing. 

So I think that’s it. I’m really sorry if you liked my CC and hoped I would continue. I hate letting people down. But I can’t force myself to do this anymore. I had a good run, and it was made so special by every one of you. You have no idea how much your support has helped me out through some really low times. But all good things must come to an end sometime, and I think it’s long overdue. You can still catch me at @tainoodles if you want to chat. But I am no longer working on CC. Thanks again for everything ♥

[tetsvhoe]

SOBER THOUGHTS, DRUNK CONFESSIONS

in which they say things they really don’t mean

character/s: kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

genre/s: angst to fluff, no more clickbait for the fluff part

warning/s: drinking obviously, also for future characters in this series if ever

gwen’s notes 🤍: thought about this one night it hurt so good i couldn’t stop thinking about it i may or may not merge my other angst to fluff requests into this series ty ty wrote this shit at 2am i apologize for the mistakes

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

kuroo tetsuro has been drinking considerably a lot more than usual and you think nothing of it even as he pairs it with avoidance. he’s probably overwhelmed with work, you tell yourself. you trust him even as he’s out all night with bokuto and other friends from high school and you trust that he will tell you what’s been bothering him whenever he is ready. you are in for a surprise when he does.

you answer a phonecall from bokuto at an ungodly hour in the night, only to be greeted back with his struggling grunts and grumbles.

“so sorry to call you this late,” he pants. you hear kuroo slurring his words in the background, something about wanting to do more shots. you slip on a pair of fluffy slippers and make your way to the closet to change your clothes as you listen to bokuto’s incident report. “i don’t think i can get kuroo back home safely. do you think you can drive here to come pick him up?” he sounds apologetic and expectant.

you chuckle lightly into the phone as you quickly pull a sweatshirt over your head. “i figured this would happen. i’m on my way, just text me the address.”

bokuto, a whole professional athlete, barely manages to haul your boyfriend out of the bar and into your passenger seat. you each take one of kuroo’s arm over your shoulder and all but drag his long lanky legs across the pavement. you begin to question how you’re supposed to get him out of the car and into your apartment later on, debating on whether or not you should just leave him to sleep in the car if all else fails.

kuroo is slumped against the door, his limbs a tangled mess in the tight space which is usually for you. the drive home is quiet save for his soft snores. as you reach to turn the music volume down, he stirs awake, snuggling his head against the misted window.

“what are you doing here?”

you spare him a momentary glance, an amused smile on your lips. “someone had a little too much to drink and couldn’t get home,” you tease.

“i could have gotten home just fine,” he grumbles.

“i’m sure you would, baby but i feel much better picking you up myself.”

“seriously,” his voice is suddenly cold and stern, making you do a double take while you navigate the road. “i can take care of myself. i don’t need you hovering over me all the damn time.”

your heart unexpectedly lurches to your stomach at his ill fitted sudden outburst, but you steady your breathing and hands on the steering wheel. you wonder what could possibly be plaguing his mind for him to act this way, still giving him the benefit of the doubt. “what has gotten into you, tetsu? you must be tired. we’re almost home‒”

“you know what’s gotten to me,” he slurs, cutting you off. he lifts his head just to quickly shoot you a vindictive glance, something uncalled for and completely throws you off guard. “is the realization that you’re too fucking clingy and i have no idea how much more of this i can take.”

the air in your lungs is knocked out of you, tears leave a trail of warmness down your cheeks before you could even try and stop them from flowing. you grip the steering wheel tightly in your hands, voice breaking as you reply. “you’re just drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying,” it sounds like a lie when you hear yourself say it, for you more than for him.

he scoffs, eyes fluttering close again. “these thoughts didn’t just occur to me now that i’m drunk. but i am only now drunk enough to finally say them.”

you harshly bite on your lip to contain the sob you felt coming and nod wordlessly. afterall, what more could you say to that?

kuroo didn’t get much sleep in the hot and stuffy car on top of feeling like his head was being hammered in. whether you left him there because you couldn’t get him out or perhaps because of what he said, he knew he deserved it nonetheless. he drags himself inside and is surprised to find you cooking in the kitchen. you can barely look him in the eyes, and he pads awkwardly towards you.

you aren’t sure how to approach the situation or if he still remembers what happened last night so you figured you could gauge the situation yourself. now you know that is so much harder than you made it out to be.

kuroo remembers. he remembers all of it so vividly and a part of himself wishes he just blacked out and forgotten because he still hears your cries and sniffles at the back of his head.

“good morning.” he’s the first to try to initiate a conversation as he casually slips into a chair, and you fake a smile painfully. “sorry you had to pick me up.”

“it’s fine.” that’s the last thing you should be worried about.

“i had one too many drinks.” just keep believing i was drunk out of my mind and didn’t mean anything i said.

you almost topple over the pan when you feel your heart twisting in your chest again, feeling the need to steady yourself by gripping the edges of the counter until your knuckle turns white. kuroo notes that you look like you’re almost about to pass out so he pushes himself off the chair and rushes to hold you against his chest. you recoil at the touch, your eyes suddenly stinging.

“sorry i‒” you breathe, focusing your gaze on the ground. “i can’t‒i don’t want to be with you right now, i need air.”

he tries to run after you out the door but decides against it. he’s left alone with his thoughts in the barren apartment with a half-cooked breakfast you still made for him despite last night and almost loses his mind thinking about how you’re going to come back only to leave him. he was stupid and hypocritical.

you cautiously slide back in after you somewhat gather your thoughts during a long walk, not wanting to confront him yet out of sheer exhaustion, but he bolts to the living room when he hears the door open, halting when your eyes flicked over to him. what now? he thinks to himself.

“you’re back,” he announces but says it more like a question. you give him a small nod. “can we talk?”

“about?”

“last night.”

“oh.” your mouth fall slack and you nod slowly while you kick your shoes off, he knows. “okay.” your voice is quiet and your gaze low, never quite landing on his eyes.

he didn’t know what to expect but the sheer lack of anger and overall reaction from you scares him.

“i remember saying a lot of nasty things to you last night,” he starts off, fiddling with his hands as he watches you take a seat on the couch. you don’t encourage him to continue, nor do you cut him off to reply, you just listen blankly. “i didn’t mean any of it and you were right, i wasn’t really thinking because i was drunk‒”

“you said you didn’t get those thoughts when you were drunk.”

“i know‒”

“how long have you been feeling that way?”

kuroo’s eyebrows furrow and tears brim his eyes when you finally look at him and he can’t discern the emotion behind your eyes. “a little over two weeks.”

“why didn’t you talk to me about it then?”

he finds that he can’t take the weight of your gaze so he looks at the floor instead. “i was afraid that i was feeling that way, i took it out on you last night. i’m sorry.” you hear soft sniffles and though you hate seeing him cry, you didn’t have it in you to console him with your own heart still spasming painfully in your chest. “are you going to leave me?” he stutters between soft sobs, voice small.

you sigh, fighting back your own tears. “well i don’t really know what you want me to do, tetsuro‒”

“please don’t. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it, i know i’m being difficult and stupid and rash but i’m going to make it up to you, i promise.” he walks over to you and lays his head on your lap, not minding the warm tears that wet your clothes.

“i think you’re all over the place, one moment you’re pushing me away the next you’re begging me to stay. i’m confused,” you mumble adamantly. “i never want to break up in the first place, you know. but when you go and say that… i don’t know, i think i need time to process my feelings.”

“i’ll give you all the time that you need,” he persuades, looking up at you with teary eyes and trembling lips.

“you have to learn you can’t just say those things and then take them back.” your hands gently comb through his hair absentmindedly.

he tightly wraps his arms around you and buries his face onto your lap. “i know, i hurt you so much and i am so sorry. i’ll learn from my mistakes, i won’t ever do that or talk to you like that again,” he pleads like a little kid.

“don’t mess this up,” you sigh. your heart still thumps in your chest. you’re unsure if you can survive something like that again, but he promises you wouldn’t ever have to go through it again.

@mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @thezebra12 @iwaizumisunshine @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey @ebiharachan @coco96 @knmsapplepi @strawberryzos @iwasunshine @bidisaster1307 @jesssobs @asaitashi @singularly-gifted-witch @devilsbooksworld

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Research

Finally wrote something again! Sorry it took so long. 

How exactly do you get a dog to lose your scent? Because avoiding your werewolf boyfriend Embry was proving a lot harder than you had anticipated. Last weekend was… eventful. You guys had finally done it. Gone all the way. After 6 months of dating and an imprint bond, you both finally decided you were ready to take that next step. And you’ve only had one thought since that night. 

That shit hurted. 

It was borderline unbearable. The pain was searing. You lied there until Embry was done, faking moans and even faking the Big O, and you were less than eager to do it again. Were you broken? He seemed to enjoy it, so obviously you were to blame. He’d been super clingy and lovey since that night, even more so than usual, and you didn’t have the heart to be around him knowing you had faked it like that. What if he found out? He’d be crushed. What if he wanted to do it again? You couldn’t take that pain another night. What if he faked it too and was going to break up with you the next time he saw you? Yeah, no. Avoidance was the way to go. 

He wanted to take you out to see a movie. You mysteriously came down with a case of allergies in the middle of winter. 

He wanted to pick you up after school and give you a ride home. You had the sudden urge to join a club that was meeting after school that day. 

He called, your phone was on silent. 

He texted, you suddenly became illiterate. 

But he kept trying. God, why was he making this so difficult?! Thoughts like this swirled through your head as you walked the long way home from school. He knew your usual route, so obviously that was out of the question. You took a path through the woods that would eventually spit you out right by the beach where you could sit and think. The forest had always felt like a second home to you. Peaceful, comfortable, private. You walked for some time before hearing twigs snapping in the distance. Probably a rabbit or something. Louder snapping. Bigger sticks. Definitely not a rabbit. You halted, waiting for the creature to pass, when a large gray wolf stalked out of the trees. 

Damn. 

He was wearing the softest, cutest, most “kicked puppy” look on his face that you had ever seen. Head bowed, he walked up to you slowly, whining. So he had noticed your avoidance. You held your hand out to him, petting the thick fur between his ears. He sniffed your hand, giving it a soft lick. 

“Hi,” you whispered. He whined louder at this. “Embry…” you started, before he crouched down, a silent cue for you to get on his back. He waited. 

Guess this was inevitable. And at least him showing up in wolf form gave you some time to think about how exactly you would explain what had happened. With another soft sigh, you climbed up on his back, holding the fur tightly as he trotted off into the trees. After about 5 minutes, you realized that he was taking you to Sam and Emily’s house. You weren’t in the mood to be around the rest of the pack right now. 

“Embry, I’m kind of busy today. I don’t really have time to hang out with the pack.” 

He ignored you, trotting along as if your statement was the buzz of a mosquito in his ear. When you reached the house, however, you quickly realized that no one else was there. They must all be out. It was a Friday afternoon, after all. 

When you reached the lawn, Embry stopped and crouched once more so you could dismount. When you did, he ran off behind the house, walking back out several minutes later as the inky-haired boy you had grown to love. His face was full of sadness, yours full of anxiety. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said. 

You silently followed him down the path that led to the cliffs, waiting for him to say something else. He never did, only kept walking. You struggled to keep up, but were too stubborn in your silence to ask him to slow down. You both finally reached the rocky cliffs jutting out over the frigid ocean. He stopped, staring out at the horizon. You paused next to him, waiting. After another several minutes of silence, you grew impatient. 

“It’s supposed to snow Monday,” you said. 

You waited. Silence. 

“The news said they might even cancel school.” 

A pause. Nothing. 

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a three day weeken-”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he cut you off, seeming agitated. For as long as you’d known Embry, he was never in a bad mood. Never anything but happy. Maybe sad on a few occasions, but never angry. Never frustrated. And it was making you nervous. 

And now it was your turn to be silent. Yes! You wanted to say. You hurt me! But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He didn’t do it on purpose, so why would you make him feel guilty about something that was your problem and your problem alone? 

“Because, if I’m counting correctly, it’s been 5 days since I’ve so much as heard from you. Barely a text back. Not a call, not a ‘hey! I’m super busy this week.’ Why are you avoiding me? I thought… after last weekend, we should be more in love than ever right?! Did it not mean anything to you?” 

You remained quiet, tears pooling in your eyes. You gave no sign that you were going to respond, so he kept going. 

“Just tell me where your fucking head is at, Y/N. You can’t keep brushing me off like this. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret what we did? Am I, like… not ripped enough for you or something?” 

“Embry, no,” you pleaded. You could see the insecurity behind his eyes. You had to tell him what was going on, but you knew it would crush him. “It’s not that at all.” 

He waited. “Then what?” 

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your face. You wiped it away quickly before taking a deep breath. “I have been avoiding you.” You looked up at his face at this, finding tears building up in his own eyes. “I love you, Embry. But last weekend, just… I can’t do that again.” 

He clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but your face and nodded. He was hurt. You definitely could have worded that better. 

“Let me explain,” you pleaded. He wouldn’t look at you still, but didn’t walk away, so you kept going. “I think I might be broken or something, because that… It didn’t feel right.” 

At this, he looked back at your face, switching from hurt to concerned almost immediately. 

“Why would you think you’re broken?” 

Another pause. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose…”

“You were in pain?” he panicked, fresh tears pricking in his eyes. 

“It’s not your fault,” you hurried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Why would you let me keep going?!” 

“I’m sorry!” you cried, causing him to walk up and embrace you. You sobbed into his chest as he pet your hair, all signs of anger gone. “You were having a good time, and I didn’t wanna ruin it, but it hurt so bad…” 

“Shhhhh,” he cooed as he rocked you from side to side, letting you calm down. “It’s okay.” 

After several minutes, you finally stopped crying. He didn’t falter in his embrace, only left light kisses on your forehead and cheek. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. 

“It’s not your fault,” you replied. 

“Yes, it is. I’m supposed to take care of you. It was my job to make you feel good, and you were hurting that bad and I didn’t even notice.” You sniffled, just enjoying being in his arms. A few more minutes passed as you both calmed down. 

“To be fair, I did take a drama class last semester. I’d say I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you added weakly, an attempt to lighten the mood. 

He huffed a laugh, if for no other reason than to make you feel better. “Had me fooled,” he added. 

You smiled, looking up at him. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.” 

“It’s okay. I just wish you would have told me as soon as it started to hurt that you wanted to stop.” 

“I know. I should have, I just got all in my head about it.” 

“And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself, and I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he answered, nervously awaiting your response. 

“I forgive you. And of course I still want to be with you, Embry. I love you. We just need to work on our communication skills a little bit,” you laughed. 

“We do. And I’ll start. I would really love another chance to make you feel good. If you promise to be honest about how you’re feeling, I know I can do a way better job. But I understand completely if you wanna wait a while… or if you never wanna do it again. You’re in charge here.” 

His words had your heart melting. He really did care about you, and you knew that if you had told him in the moment that you were in pain, he would have done anything to get you feeling good. You were always his first priority. 

“I’d be willing to try again, but what we did last time didn’t work. I think we need to think of some new techniques or something,” you mumbled shyly. 

“Tell you what. I’ll do some research, get some stuff, and you can come over tonight… if you want to. And we can maybe try again? And if you get there and aren’t feeling up to it, we can just watch a movie and cuddle. No pressure… I just miss you.” 

You thought for a second. Worst case scenario, you’d cuddle on the couch and eat junk food. You trusted Embry completely, and if you said stop, you knew he would. 

“Okay,” you replied. 

__________________________________

After a long shower, some fresh makeup, and a cute-yet-comfortable outfit, you were ready to go over to Embry’s. Sure, the nerves were kicking in, but you trusted him when he said he would do some research. When you pulled up, he was already standing in the doorway smiling. You ran out and gave him a giant bear hug (or wolf hug), and he picked you up and carried you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot. 

“I missed you,” he said, face buried in your hair. 

“You saw me like 3 hours ago,” you giggled in response. 

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you all week! Gotta get my Y/N fill or I might die!” 

You laughed loudly, hands threading up into his hair as he sat down on the bed with you seated in his lap. 

“Yeah, yeah, just try not to crowd me,” you cheekily replied. 

He raised an eyebrow before tackling you back onto the bed, tickling you like a maniac and placing playful kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Like this?! Don’t crowd you like this?” 

“Embry stop!” you laughed, trying to suck in a breath between his manic tickles. When he finally stopped, he was lying between your legs, one hand grasping both your wrists above your head, the other propped beside you so as to not crush you. He stared lovingly at your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips. His grip on your arms loosened, as if to say You can stop me anytime, but you didn’t. You kissed him back, arms staying in place to tell him that you were okay. 

The kisses grew slightly more heated, but Embry kept them gentle. And every time you thought he was about to take things to the next step, he’d just kiss you some more. You were growing slightly impatient, breath labored and blood pumping fast. Your stomach became slightly warm, and every time you leaned up, he’d pull away. 

“You’re being mean,” you whimpered. 

He just looked at you and smirked before leaning down and capturing your lips once more. You could feel your blood heat in every part of your body. From your head to your toes, you felt warm and fuzzy, yet desperate for more,,, more touch, more pressure, more Embry. Growing frustrated, you hooked your legs around his waist and tried your best to pull him closer, unintentionally grinding your hips into his. When he brushed up against your core, you let out an involuntary sigh. It actually felt nice. He smiled into the kiss, pulling his lips away from yours and dragging them down to your jaw, and then your neck, suckling and sucking and leaving light red marks that made your head spin. The hand that was holding your wrists came down behind your back and up into your hair, firmly pulling your head back to give him better access to your neck. 

This movement made your entire back arch up into his body. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, lips sucking your skin up into his mouth as he nibbled, before soothing with his tongue. Your toes curled, legs pulling him impossibly closer. When he felt this, he ground his hips down into yours. The combination of his hands, lips, and weight on top of you made you let out a gasp. Your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life, pulling his shirt up in an attempt to take it off. He got the hint and sat up to remove it, being away from your body for far too long for your taste. He didn’t lower fully back down, however, instead sliding his warm hands under your shirt and onto your stomach. You sat up, taking your sweatshirt off and throwing it violently across the room. His eyes widened as they looked down at your bare chest in an almost feral fashion. He gripped your thighs, tugging you down the bed with ease, and resuming his position on top of you, hands roaming all over your torso. He cupped your breasts gently, rolling your nipples softly between his fingers. You shut your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying the sensations. His kisses trailed from your neck and down to your chest, softly. Lovingly. When he reached your nipples, his tongue poked out and licked around each of them, before taking them into his mouth and sucking. His hands continued to caress your back, and he took his sweet time switching from one breast to the other, and back again, until he felt your skin grow almost as hot as his. You were writhing underneath him, panting as your mind tried to comprehend the sensations. And his mouth, God it was so warm. You felt him kiss the undersides of your breasts, and then your stomach, and then lower… 

When he reached the waistband of your leggings, he brought his hands up as if to pull them off of you. He stopped, looking up at you for permission. You gave a lazy nod Yes, and lifted your hips to help him. He pulled your underwear off as well, spreading your legs and almost salivating at the sight of your soaking pussy. Not wanting to waste another second, he once again began placing kisses on your lower stomach, and then down to your hip bones, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin, which had you shuddering. He trailed lower, to where your thighs met your core, and began to suck lightly and the soft skin there. Your clit was throbbing by now, desperate for any sort of attention. You thrust your hips up, desperate for his mouth on the place you needed him, but he only pulled your legs over his shoulders and brought his arms across your stomach to hold you in place. Your hands went to his hair in an effort to control any aspect of this situation, but the boy was strong. He teased and teased and teased, until you thought you might very well crawl out of your own skin if he didn’t properly touch you soon. Embry brought his face right up to your center and licked into your entrance, making your toes curl once more. His hands gripped your hips as he brought you as far onto his tongue as he could, nose not quite brushing where you still needed him. 

“Embry…” you whimpered, about to tell him what you needed. 

“I know, baby. I got you,” he spoke, as he finally brought his warm tongue to lick a firm stripe up to your clit, swirling it around and sucking the swollen nub into his mouth. 

You let out a moan. A real one. Your first real one. And it only encouraged Embry, as he began to suck and lick with a steady rhythm that caused your legs to shake. You felt your stomach start to coil after several minutes of this, hands fisting Embry’s hair even tighter. It felt amazing, but that coil wouldn’t snap. He started to notice you coming down slightly, orgasm fading away, when he brought his index finger into your mouth. You sucked on instinct, before he pulled it out and brought it down to your entrance. He swirled the digit around a few times and began to push in slowly. One knuckle. Then two. And then he was fully in you. Sucking your clit into his mouth yet again, he rubbed his finger up into your front wall, massaging the ridges there. 

“Oh… Embry, oh my God,” you moaned. He used more pressure, and then brought his finger out and added another, slowly pushing them in together and resuming the ‘come-hither’ motion. You felt your muscles shake, losing all control, and the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly once again, only this time, it broke. Your back arched, eyes shut tight, mouth open in a silent scream as you came hard. Waves of pleasure drove through you, hands holding his head firmly onto your center. When you came down and opened your eyes, you looked down at his face to see an excited grin. 

“If you tell me that was fake, I think I’ll cry,” he chirped. 

You calmed your hard breathing enough to mutter a “That was real.” 

“Do you wanna keep going?” he asked. 

You nodded, taking note of the obvious tent in his shorts. You reached a hand down to grasp him, when he grabbed your wrist and said “Nuh-uh, I’m still making it up to you.” 

He stood up off the bed and went over to a plastic shopping bag on his desk. He opened it and pulled out a condom, some lube, and a small pink toy. Your eyes widened, and he cockily stated, “told you I’d do some research. Come here Sweetheart.” He held a hand out to help you up, and moved you so that you were on your hands and knees, bum facing him as he stood at the edge of the bed. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on, and then opened the bottle of lube and slathered it all over himself. He then brought what was left on his hand up to your sensitive core, distributing the substance gently. Throwing the bottle onto the floor, he lined himself up with your entrance. 

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he asked. You nodded in response. “I need you to say it, babe.” 

“Yes, I want to keep going, Em,” you almost cried. 

“Okay, but I need you to tell me if it hurts even a little. Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

He grasped your hip with one hand, guiding himself in with the other. Slowly, carefully, he became fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. You felt no pain, just a delicious stretch inside your walls. When Embry saw that you were relaxed, he pulled himself out a couple of inches and softly thrusted back in, looking for any signs of discomfort. He found none, and continued. He dragged himself in and out of you at a torturous pace that made your breathing pick up yet again. You needed more. You began rocking yourself back onto him, begging for a faster pace, and he complied. He pulled out several inches more this time, shoving back in at a quicker pace that had your toes curling and your moans going up in pitch. At this, he stopped holding back. Embry began pounding into you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave the good kind of bruise. You were moaning loudly, brain turning to mush. This is what sex was supposed to be like. What you’d always imagined it would be like. Passionate, loving, amazing. 

Embry found himself reaching the edge, but would not allow himself to finish before you. He reached down onto the bed for the small pink toy that you had forgotten about. He flicked it on, brought his other hand down and around your throat to pull you up against him, and held the small vibrator right onto your clit. The pounding pressure of his dick paired with the fervent vibrations had you seeing stars. You came. Hard. You didn’t know how long the orgasm had lasted. When you came to, you were lying on your back on the bed, breathing still labored, as Embry cleaned your thighs off with a damp towel. He noticed you looking up at him. 

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he cooed.

“Hey,” you responded weakly. 

“How ya doing?” 

“Really good,” you laughed. 

“Yeah?” he beamed at you as you nodded in response. “Good. I’m gonna get you some water and then we can cuddle, okay?” You only smiled in contentment as he walked off into the hallway, returning shortly with a cup of cold water. “Sit up for me?” 

“Can’t,” you answered, eliciting a laugh from him. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you,” he spoke as he gently held the back of your head, supporting you as you leaned up to drink from the cup he was holding up to your mouth. After you took a few sips, he seemed satisfied and placed the cup on the floor, lying down next to you and pulling you close. “If you start ignoring me after that, I might have to kill you,” he teased. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever ignore you again.” You sighed in contentment, listening to Embry’s soothing heartbeat, before you began to wonder. “By the way, what the heck kind of research did you do?” 

He huffed a laugh before responding, “Some guy on the internet called Owen Grey.”