#it already ruined my mental health for the rest of my life

[thanatosdetesreves]

I just realised that my sister is a post-covid child and that is like, not just a time description, like i knew it yk, but it really is different

She's going to Spain with her school in march and a spanish student is coming at home. Aside from being privileges of us going to nice schools, its stuff I should have done, but covid striked right at that time, and now that it's gone, my sister is doing it, and i am no longer in high school

I mean, how many life changing school trips i could have done but never could because of the pandemic? How much did it affect an entire generation of kids and teenagers by just happening those specific 5 years of school

[minus-plus-zer0]

okay hear me out. bakugo x reader but the reader’s entire family just died in a villain accident and they go mia and don’t talk to anyone for a month?? and bakugo sees them on a bus/crossing the street/at a cafe or smth like that

I hope I interpreted this correctly, I wrote the reader as if they had left for a month entirely, rather than being physically present but mentally/socially withdrawn for a month. Anyways, thank you for requesting!

Disappearance of You

♡ Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

The news cycle had since forgotten what happened, but Bakugou didn't.

That villain triggered the rest of these events to go into motion. After your entire family died, you disappeared. You didn't even text Bakugou, your one and only best friend. Your friends were worried sick, but nobody worried more than Bakugou.

After spending every single day with you, Bakugou couldn't suddenly go without contact. In fact, he was afraid he'd never see you again. Even if this incident changed you, even if you weren't the same, he needed to see you. Bakugou didn't let many people into his life, so when he had someone he cared about, he didn't easily let go.

Without any friends or family knowing where you were, you were hard to find. But Bakugou knew you better than he knew himself, and he was determined that he would finally you eventually.

Around a month later, the game of hide and seek ended. Bakugou spotted you in the city. It was like witnessing the dead come back to life. He had seen you cross a street wading through the crowd, your appearance and your body language unmistakable. Bakugou sprinted over to you, shoving people past as he yelled out your name.

You glanced back once, but he didn't catch your expression. You sprinted down a deserted alleyway but Bakugou tackled you and caught you on the ground.

"Shit, are you okay? Speak to me, dammit!"

You were not in a good condition, and Bakugou hoped that none of your current health issues were due to him tackling you just now. You looked like you hadn't been eating properly, and he was sad to see that you weren't at all happy to see him.

He pulled you up into a sitting position to hug you dearly. You almost didn't feel real to him. But he needed you back in his arms again, to let his brain know he had finally, finally found you.

At some point your arms curled around his neck, right where they belonged. You felt Bakugou's tears against your neck and you pulled out of the hug to wipe them off his face.

"Don't cry," you said, quietly.

"Don't tell me what to do!" he said, voice shaking. "Where the fuck were you? People thought you were dead! You don't get to just bail on me like that. I don't have anybody else like you. You're my best fucking friend. You're my other half. You don't get to just leave..."

These were the kinds of things Bakugou had kept inside him since you left, since even before you left when he couldn't admit to you how he felt in fear of ruining your friendship. These were the kind of things he couldn't admit to anybody else.

"I just couldn't stick around," you said. "I couldn't be reminded of what happened... but the reminders were everywhere."

"You should've told me." Bakugou's burying his face in your neck again, his sobs now muffled.

After spending enough time holding you, Bakugou finally let go but not without locking your hand in his, if only to make sure you wouldn't abandon him ever again. He didn't know what he would do if he never got to tell you he loved you to your face, and now with you back by his side he's got the chance to do it properly, rather than to a missing person poster... or a grave.

Bakugou texted his mother that he had found you. She pretty much considered you a daughter-in-law already, having seen you countless times with Bakugou everywhere in his life. She was basically awaiting for your marriage plans to be officially announced (you weren't even dating... yet). And although Bakugou didn't always get along with her, he knew that his mom and dad could take good care of you in the meantime while you got back on your feet.

Even if you didn't have a family anymore, Bakugou would just take you back home to his.

[lingeringdesires505]

maybe its for the best

rin itoshi x reader

angst

rin can’t stop blaming himself, he knows hes at fault, that hes the reason the two of you had broken up. rin’s life mainly revolved around soccer, until he met you. all his life, his only goal was to beat his brother, itoshi sae, and show him how he too could be good at soccer. little did he know, he would be so caught up in his obsession with competing against his brother would ruin a relationship he had cherished so much.

28 April, 10.58 p.m.

The night you two broke up, it was after one of his late night trainings. despite being tired and burnt out, he still stayed back after training, pushing himself to his limit, in hopes that his skill would be up to par with his brother’s.

you laid in your shared bed with him, wondering when he would come home. his soccer training should have ended at 9 p.m., yet he was still not home. seeing the clock almost striking 11, you became more and more worried about your lover. you had sent him multiple texts, but none were read.

“he must be staying back after training again,” you thought to yourself. despite the constant reminders not to overexert himself, and that he should rest more, rin never listened to you. he would either brush you off, saying it was no big deal and that he wasnt tired, or just ignore you. you understood that he was feeling lots of stress especially with the upcoming soccer match, but you just couldnt stand there and see him destroy himself like this. it certainly wasnt healthy and beneficial for his physical or mental health.

as you reached the stadium, you saw a familiar figure doing his routines.

“rin! ive been worried about you. its already 11 p.m., you should come home and rest!” you called out to him as you ran towards him.

“ just a few more minutes…im almost done. after im done, we can go home, okay? “ he said without looking back to you.

as much as you wanted to let him finish, you could already tell he was extremely tired. the sweat running down his forehead and muscles, the heavy panting that you knew all to well — he was already pushing his limits, if you were to let him continue, he might over exhaust himself, doing more harm than good to his body.

“ rinnie, please, youre at your limit already, please just stop! youre going to hurt yourself at this rate! “ you begged him to stop, but he wouldnt listen. tears started to well up in your eyes as you grew more and more anxious, why wouldnt he just stop hurting himself like this and listen to you?

it wasnt long before rin snapped.

“do you really think im that weak?! besides, what i do to my own body is none of your business! youre just another obstacle in the way of my success, just leave me alone you lukewarm piece of shit, god damn it!” he shouted, his eyes filled with anger as he finally looked over to you.

that was when he realised he fucked up.

his heart ached as he saw hot tears streaming down your red cheeks. no, wait, he didnt mean it!

“please baby, wait, i didnt mean it. im so sorry i said that, please..” he immediately stopped what he was doing to run towards you, forcefully hugging you, frantically apologising.

you didnt say anything. you couldnt say anything. you were in disbelief — the man that you had loved with all your heart, the man that you cared for so deeply, wanted you to leave him alone? was this truly the way he felt about you? just an obstacle? a lukewarm piece of shit?

“baby please, i didnt mean any of that… its all my fault, i know you want the best for me. forgive me please… please, say something!” this time, rin was the one of the verge of tears.

“so that’s how you feel about me?… you want me to leave you alone?…” you managed to stutter out, trying hard not to start bawling on the spot. how could he say something so hurtful?

“fine. if that’s how you want it, dont contact me ever again rin, it’s over between us.”

you ran back to your car before rin could react and slammed the door shut, driving off to your shared apartment to pack your things and move out. you weren’t just angry, you were upset.

you couldnt believe this was how your relationship with rin was going to end. you always thought of rin as someone you would continue to love and care for, someone you would grow old with.

that night, rin laid on the grass in the stadium, looking up at the night sky, head filled with regrets, heart aching.

present

was it really worth it? rin always asked himself. sure, he managed to show to his brother that his soccer skills were excellent, but that didnt make him happy. in fact, after the two of you had broken up, nothing made him happy. how could he be happy without you? he was struggling to even live a day without you.

rin would spend countless sleepless nights scrolling through his photo gallery, looking at photos you had forced him to take with you. the poor man couldnt even sleep without your scent. he would often try and find old articles of clothing you had left behind around the house — it was the only way he could sleep, with your scent.

he would spend many hours training, even if there wasnt any upcoming matches. he was desperate to find any sort of distraction to distract himself from thinking about you.

some nights after training, he prayed that you would still be there outside the stadium, waiting to drive him home. he prayed that he could see you again, hear your sweet voice and hearty laugh again. he was so desperate to hear your voice again, he didnt care if he had to hear your nagging or your complaints, he just needed to hear you again, to see that pretty face of yours.

rin always thought about how foolish he was. before he met you, he felt that unfortunate things always happened to him. he always thought about how terrible and unlucky his life was. that was until he met you. you were like a blessing from heaven, an angel that came and brightened up his dull, lukewarm life. he wished he had known how to appreciate you earlier. if only he had opened his eyes and see how much you had loved and cared for him.

it feels like torture scrolling through your instagram page, seeing you move in with your new boyfriend, seeing you have dinner dates with him. he knows your new boyfriend treats you way better than he ever did, and he feels happy that your being taken good care of, but deep down, his heart was being ripped into shreds. it felt so wrong, but he couldnt stand the thought of you laughing, or smiling for another man. you were already moving on with life, getting ready to marry your boyfriend, and there was nothing he could do about it.

rin accepted that he could never be at peace with himself, especially since he had fucked up the only good thing in his life. it was too late for regrets, the only thing he could do now was make sure that you were safe and happy from afar.

———————————————————————————

thank you for reading!

word count: 1.2k

feel free to request!

please dont steal

@lingeringdesires505 2024

[thelastofhyde]

i. sea-day 1.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. as the ship sets sail, you search for help. at the bar, you encounter a familiar stranger. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, sunshine!reader, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much )<3 chapter warnings. alcohol, mentions of class/wealth themes, implications that the reader has underlining mental health issues, convenient plot-devices that would only ever happen in a rom-com bc this is fun silly fiction baby!, joel suffers from acute insuferable-bastarditis :( word count. 3.7k hyde’s input. let's all hold hands and agree to ignore the fact both parts so far have opened on the reader panicking in a bathroom, okay? maybe she's a stressed girlie with a flare of ibs, you don't know her life. feeling a little insecure abt this chapter and lowkey don't wanna post it, but i promise the actual fun begins in chapter two, where we finally get to see tourguide!joel in action. previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

“What time did you say you boarded?”

Your mother’s voice travels from where your phone lays, abandoned upon the bed, all the way into the decadent bathroom.

Eyes moving a mile-a-minute, as if you're rushing to take in every jaw-dropping detail.

There’s the sink area, a double-vanity that’s centred with an array of lotions and soaps, and overlooked by an overwhelmingly large mirror that makes up half the wall, lined with a golden hue of light. A shower, with glass curtains and enough room to fit your whole wardrobe in it. Then, there’s the bathtub you’re already envisioning yourself sinking into. Marble lines the floor, and the outer wall is made up of three window panes, gifting you a view of pure blue, the sea and the sky melting into one another across the horizon. It’s making you nauseous, this looming feeling of imposter syndrome the interior brings you.

You don’t belong in this, a fancy room designed for fancy people.

An iteration of your name, back on the bed, drags you away from your own troubled reflection.

“Seven,” you call out, inching your way back into the main area of the suite.

“In the morning?!” She’s just as shocked as the first time you answered her question, fifteen minutes ago, and the second time, seven minutes ago.

Humming in approval, you give a sweeping gaze over the plush carpeted floor, the wall-mounted television displaying the cruiseship��s logo, the king sized bed that’s calling out for you, seducing you with the promise of a mattress that won’t be stabbing at your back the whole night. As if on queue, there’s a sharp pain in your lower back, a lasting reminder of the hostel you’d found little rest in last night.

“Well, there goes my jealousy!” Lacklustre replies aside, your mother continues her ramblings, used to filling the void of conversation with the sound of her own voice. “Can you imagine? Me, awake at that time? You’ll be glad you’re travelling on your own, honey.” Usually, you admire the positive spin your mother tries to bring to life. Your being alone upon this trip, however, is not a topic you want her to address, much less find the good in. “I mean, I don’t think even your sister-”

“I think they’ve made a mistake,” you cut her off, eyes zeroing in on a pair of glass doors. Snatching the phone off the bed, you turn off the speaker and press it to your ear just in time to hear your mother’s confusion, questioning what you mean. Focus on those doors, you slowly make your way over to them. “The room,” you clarify, fingers curling around a handle to unlock it, prying the doors apart. A wave of salty fresh air, hits your face as you step out onto wooden decking. You find yourself upon a balcony, facing off into the deep blue distance. To your left, there’s two sun loungers and a glass coffee table, mounted by two champagne flutes and a simple welcome note sprawled out in black ink. “I think they’ve given me the wrong room.”

It’s the next best thing to a reasonable explanation you can find, no chance on earth you were ever listed to stay in such a suite. No, a room like this is meant for a wealthy businessman and his uptight wife to overindulge themselves on gold-trimmed furniture and a fur-lined bed for a week, in which they do everything but address the lipstick stains that keep lining his collars or the chauffeur who keeps himself parked between her legs.

You can already picture such a pair now, storming over to some poor, unsuspecting deckhand, red on both their faces as they begin to berate him over the fact they're in a cabin the size of a cupboard, with a communal restroom and a bunk barely fit for one person.

“Why? Is something wrong with it?”

“No,” it’s an answer you reluctantly give, more than aware of how ridiculous it sounds. “It’s… nice. Perfect. Too perfect, like I should feel lucky to stand in it, nevermind live in it for the next few days.”

It’s with caution that you glance over each shoulder, taking note of the seemingly never ending row of balconies that line the ship, a sizable gap between each one. Guts twisting a little at the thought, you peer ever so slightly over the right edge and are greeted with views of more balconies. Beyond that, there’s only blue. Waves crash into the ship’s side and bounce off in white foam. You renew the distance between you and the ledge, unable to stop yourself from glancing both ways, confirming there’s no neighbouring balcony that finds itself occupied.

Then bend down, clasping a hold of one of the champagne flutes.

You take your first sip like it’s a crime, wearily, eyes darting back and forth, waiting to be caught in the act and dragged out of this room, down to whatever poverty loft you really belonged in.

Or, maybe they’d just toss you overboard, rid themselves of any possible hassle. People go missing all the time at sea, right? People go missing all the time on cruises. You’d just be another blip in the system, an error that can be overwritten with a simple-

“I can hear you thinking through the phone, sweetie.”

You take another sip, and let a weight fall off your chest, dragging in a breath large enough to make up for the moment or two you’d stopped breathing. “I’m just… tired. Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine. No big freak out on it’s way, again.”

“Honey, you know how me and your father feel about you calling it a freak-” she must be able to hear your eye roll through the phone, cutting herself off before she can keep going. “Just, try and enjoy this trip, okay? Maybe you’re in that room because where you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’ve been awarded some free upgrade, like that time your dad got bumped up to business class!”

Bless her for trying, though she may fail. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face.

You swallow back what remains of the bubbled liquid.

Through the phone, you hear a door burst open and the entrance of a loud, excited little voice. Something akin to granny rings down the line, and it’s enough to have you frozen where you stand, bones rigid and unable to move. Something seems to smack into the microphone, a rustling of fabric as you envision your mother making room for little limbs on her lap.

“Hey, my little munchkin! How was soccer?” You can’t make out what the voice tells your mother, heart too busy beating louder than any drum, inching its way further up your wind pipe and threatening to choke you on it. “Guess who I’ve got on the phone?” The tiny voice squeals out your name, bile joins your heart inside your throat. Maybe this is how you find out you get seasick. “Do you wanna say hi-”

“Mum, I, uh… I’ve gotta go,” you’re eyeing the remaining glass on the table, the rising bubbles enticing you to hurry up, drink it before it goes flat. “I should go find the help desk, get this room thing sorted out.”

“Just a second, let E-”

“I’ll call you later,” you hang up.

You’re left with just the raging waters below, a caw from seagulls up above. Eyes slipping shut, you pull in a deep breath and push out a silent plea for that sting in your eyes to be from the salt in the air, not a set of unfallen tears. A few more breaths and it feels safe enough to open your eyes again, glancing down as your phone vibrates in your hand.

Two texts, each from your mother.

09:38 - She says hi, and that you better bring her back a cool souvenir. 09:39 - Doctor Anderson says she’s showing improvement and they’re finally starting to get somewhere. Just thought you’d want to know x

Giving in to temptation, you snatch up the champagne glass, bring it up to your lips and- pause, interrupted as you make eye contact with a man one balcony over. He’s older, a well-rounded gut fit into a light blue shirt and tailored trousers. With a rolex on one wrist and set of bright white teeth smiling right at you, there’s no mistaking he belongs in one of these suites.

You wonder what he thinks of you and your frayed sweater, no jewellery on your wrists.

He nods, politely, and raises his own glass towards you. A silent cheer, a recognition that you’re both here, living life in luxury. You meet it, raise your own glass, and try to smile as brightly as him.

Then knock back your second drink and saunter back inside.

“Miss, there’s been no mistake.”

In spite of it being an excuse to hang up, you stay true to your word.

Come early noon, you’re standing within the help centre. Against all odds, accidental nap and wild goose chase upon the ship deck be damned, you’ve found what you were looking for.

Or, well, an older woman with sweet smile on her face and a squinted nametag pinned to her chest found it, pointed you in the direction of the ship’s atrium. What you’re looking for is the Purser’s Office, dear.

“See? The booking under your name lists you as part of our excelsior guests.” The desk clerk turns her screen towards you, acrylic nail pointing at your booking information. Sure enough, in bold letters, your full name accompanied by a golden badge at the end. Excelsior Status, checkmarked and approved by the cruise. “This grants you access to one of our excelsior suites and all private excelsior lounges.”

In all honesty, you’re tuning her out a little.

You don’t mean to, sincerely, but you’re just so caught up in reading both your name and excelsior suite, over and over and over again, that you forget to really listen, mind running just a few seconds behind the speed of her mouth.

When you finally process what she’s saying, all you can manage is dumbstruck look on your face and a muttered, “oh.”

Paper rustles as your hands wring, the pristine pamphlet you’d been flicking through to fill the time as she’d searched up your details now rumpled, thin white cracks of paper peaking out beneath printed ink.

“I also see that you’ve added the excelsior tour package onto your booking, though I’m willing to change that for you, if you’d prefer signing onto one of our team tours instead.” Confused by her offer, you glance down and read over the pamphlet’s title- All-Aboard Tour Trips, Fun for all the Family! “Would you like to hear what your current tour package grants you?”

“If,” as if you’ve not embarrassed yourself enough with your cluelessness towards your own booking, your voice cracks under the pressure of being used, more squeak than actual intelligible words. You swallow back the lump of shame in your throat and push through. “If you don’t mind, please. This, uh- The ticket, it was a gift, so I’m just a little out of the loop of what’s been booked for me.”

“Not at all! So, the excelsior tour package gives you access to your own private tour-guide, for all seven stops we’ll be making on this cruise!” Already, you feel a little queasy at the thought. A private tour, no one but you and some stranger. It’s not exactly your dream scenario. “Your guide’s purpose won’t just be to walk you through all the memorable sites, but to curate your visits to your liking, helping you explore foreign land with a familiar taste. Where the tours in team are restricted to allocated timeslots and a set route of sites to visit, having a private tour-guide grants you the privilege of exploring where you want, for however long you want. The private tour also provides more time for you at each stop, as your timeslot to board will be the latest available, making your whole trip less of rush and more of a thrill.”

The clerk, without a doubt in your mind, is quoting a script she’s already said hundreds of time- word for word, beat for beat. Yet her voice is animated, her smile is kind, and you admire her a little for getting through it without a single laugh at the corniness of it all.

You, however, fail the challenge, glancing off to your side and biting back a giggle that you hope she takes no note of. The last thing you want is for her to mistake the laughter as directed towards her.

Weighing your options, you nervously ask, “but, you could change me over to a team tour?”

She says of course, with a smile that doesn’t waver, and the tension in your shoulders lessens, the ice cold feeling of inconveniencing her melting away at her warmth.

Her nails clack as she types away on her keyboard. A double click and then, a hiss. She’s no longer smiling, a grimace taking it place. “I’m sorry, but all of our tours are fully booked.”

“Oh. That’s- It’s okay.”

“But, I could add you to the waiting list! If there’s any cancelations for any of the stops, you’ll be the first to know. This won’t affect your excelsior tour package, so either way you’ll have some kind of guide.”

With nothing to lose, you figure why not and let her throw your name in the metaphorical hat.

Mid-typing away, eyes glued to her screen, you watch as her brows shoot up. “Oh, while I’ve got you here, there’s one more thing. With our excelsior guides, it’s customary that they meet with you on the first night, to touch base on simple things, like your interests or any goals for this trip, and to plan out tomorrow’s official first stop, which is in Santorini. Your guide has left you this, detailing where you’ve to meet him.”

With renewed hesitation, you grab at the folded note she slips over the desk. It’s small, with half an inked fingerprint burnt into the top left corner.

As you thank her for her help and bid her goodbye, she interrupts you before you can turn to leave.

“I know private tours can seem daunting but, you’re in good hands. Joel will take care of you, he’s our top-rated guide.”

The note remains folded as long as you can control your curiosity, which appears to be only until you’re back on the deck, sun shinning directly in your eyes and forcing you to squint as you read over faded blank ink.

10 pm, the Tipsy Byson bar.

Below that, in a bolder blue ink, wear something green for me to find you, JM.

You’re awfully overdressed, and painfully aware of it.

The Tipsy Byson is nestled between the arcade and the casino, a balance of childlike shrieks harmonizing over outraged yelling of men cheated out of their hands. Brown wood lines just about every inch of the place, from the walls, to the tables, to the bar. There’s an outrageously large Stars and Stripes flag hanging on the wall, and memorabilia of all things Texas Roadhouse. The place is themed, down to the cowboy hat that sits atop the bartender’s head, and clearly everyone is aware of this, decked out in scruffed up boots and worn out denim vests.

Everyone but you, dark green silk clinging to you in the shape of a laced-back midi dress, dainty black heels tucked into the footrest of the barstool you occupy.

It’s the only green thing you brought and- wear something green for me to find you- you’d had no choice.

It was a quarter to ten when you got there, earlier than you were requested, but a gentle buzz of something shooting through your nervous system left you impatient, unable to wander the ship’s halls any longer.

It was fine, you figured, gave you a chance to get a drink, cool your nerves a little. Sticking with the theme of green, you’d yelled over the line music for a midori sour, please, and even cracked a little smile at the cute bartender.

By twenty past ten, you’re still alone, no tour-guide in sight, and your glass is empty, a sole ice-cube all that remains. You order another glass, given him another smile, and return your eyes to the entryway as you sip back the taste of the dewy melon goodness.

The doors opened, your hopes rise and- a couple walks through the door, adorably dressed in matching jackets.

Another sip.

The doors open again, this time you watch as a few women walk in, party hats and bachelorette signs dripping off them.

Half your drink, gone again.

Two, three, four more times the door opens and you watch as strangers filter in and out, pretending you don’t notice the way some of their eyes linger on you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

It’s as you throw back the last sip of your cocktail, eyes catching the time- 22:36-, that you watch a grin overtake the bartender’s face.

The door shuts with a slam, buried beneath the layers of stomping feet across the dance floor and the twang of a country song, yet you hear it all the same, twisting in the stool.

A man stands by the entry, salt-and-peppered hair a little tousled and a scowl etched into his forehead. He moves like water, slipping through the cracks in the crowded bar with minimal effort. All the while, eyes seem to follow him, the occasional head turning in his direction. He spares no glances, to anyone.

Instead, he’s staring right at you.

And heading your way, frown and all.

There’s something in his face that feels familiar, and you swear that this is not the first time you’d stared into those eyes. Broad, scruffy facial hair, his irritation as some drunk girl slams into him so palpable, you almost taste it on your tongue.

You mumble something to the bartender, a request for another drink, a parched feeling stirring in your loins.

He’s inching closer, and closer, and closer- and, only as he’s a mere three bar stools away from you, do you realise who he is.

You’re in the way.

Signore Miller.

The rude man from the airport!

God, you can’t wait to see what this is about. He must recognise you, must feel the shame licking at his wounded ego, driving him to come over, apologise, beg for forgiveness to a stranger he unnecessarily berated.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” It’s not Signore Miller that speaks, nor is it you. It’s the bartender, arms crossing over his chest, smirk widening on his face. “Thought you said last season was your last!”

“You know me,” his eyes are still glued to you, an intense stare, even as he replies. There’s so little space between you now, you manage to notice the wrinkles in his flannel shirt. You choose to ignore the fact it’s green. “Ain’t no good at stayin’ away from the things I hate.”

“Wasn’t what you were saying at the staff party last year, Mr. Blubber-face. Took two whiskeys to get you crying ‘bout how you were gonna miss the cruising life.”

Another midori sour lands your way, yet you don’t even manage a single sip of it before he’s opening his mouth.

“Well look at you, all dressed up with nowhere to go,” his eyes still pierce into your own and, this time, it is you he’s talking to.

You’d have half the mind to throw your drink on him, if it weren’t for the fact you’re too busy taking a stabilizing gulp out of it, a sweetness to counter-attack his sour persona.

“Excuse me?!” You final sputter out, face burning too hot and pride too scorned to begin to feel even more out of place.

He seems unfazed by your outrage, turning away from you to acknowledge his friend behind the bar at last. “Do me a favour, Luke, don’t give her too much to drink.” Condescending tone perfectly intact, Signore Miller doubles down on your initial impression of him: an absolute asshole. “Last thing I need is to spend all day draggin’ around some prissy hungover diva.”

The man- Luke- scoffs back a laugh, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Quit teasin’ the poor girl, ‘fore she runs for the hills and ruins your five-star rating.”

An uncomfortable feeling creeps down your spine. It’s cold and alarming, and has your straightening your back, sitting a little tenser in your seat, realization rising in you like the dawn.

It can’t be.

He can’t be-

He’s stepping all in your space, face leaning down till his mouth is at the level of your ear. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t even come close to it, yet there’s goosebumps littering your arms and hairs standing at the back of your neck.

Like touching a live wire, his proximity feels electric.

“Best be on that deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’ll be dockin’ without ya.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“Joel, tourguide. At your service.” He’s pulled back, just to thrust his hand in your face. By the time you reach to shake it, he’s retracting it, that grating quirk in his lips moving higher up his cheek. “Oh, and do yourself a favour. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. Santorini ain’t the place for dainty heels like those.”

You knock back the rest of your drink moments after he leaves, only to find Luke’s already placed a fourth glass at your side.

“Our little secret,” he faux-whispers, pressing a finger to his pursed lips. “Besides, you look like you could use it.”

Signore Miller.

Joel, tourguide.

Joel Miller.

He’s already making your trip unbearable, and it’s hardly begun.

+ extra hyde. sorry if that was a little boring it was a necessary part to get the ball moving, i promise chapter two gets right into it. again, updates to this fic happen every other friday! i'm bad at describing spaces, so if anyone is curious to know what reader's suite looks like, here are some reference pics:

taglist. @auteurdelabre

[mysadblacksoul]

Backslide - 3/13 of the Clancy album

Grab a coffee and let's start this madness

MV

Tyler is wearing the same clothes that he wore in Overcompensate MV to I would assume that this MV takes place right after

Let's break down the signs first

We see the return of Ned Bayou as well as FPA, now standing for Food Petrol Etc.

You can buy 9 buns for $21, love the symbolism

There is a Jim sign omg. Baby is having his own bubblegum business

Of course the Bishops sign with 9 lines marked on it

I could've sworn that the black sign says "Dema Vapes", but looking closely I believe it's "Velma Vapes" lol

What is more, the cones (?) are yellow and I'm pretty sure that the fact that there are 5 of them is not an accident

They sold him bread that went bad lol. Nah for sure it's not the case since he gives the same bread to a child

But I believe that the scene and the lyrics are closely tied with Stressed Out

Now the next scene is interesting

I think that the bad weather is a simple metaphor for feelings of anxiety or fear

We can see that Tyler was contemplating then he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts

This is when the scene changes to normal, right? Exactly on the line It's over my head

Then we move to the scene with the kid

And I really believe that this little lad is personification of Ned

Like he has the same boba eyes lol

No but for real, this is parallel to Chlorine - kid is giving Tyler a cup just like Tyler gave to Ned. Yet he accepts it and drinks whatever is inside and Ned just shudders

Another interesting thing, that could make my point more valid is that the kid literally asks Is that a stain? You should change / Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? like he knows Tyler very well and is in a way looking out for him

It's like he's keeping Ned by him - okat I'll stop

It might be a stretch, but the N kinda looks like a mirrored band symbol, do you also see it?

If 0.75c is equivalent to the cost of one bun than Tyler is being ripped off since he paid $21 for the pack instead of $6.75 lmao

Something is really wrong with those buns lmao

Then the mood changes again, but this time is even worse. Like his mental health is declining even more and even faster

The bread is wet, the day is ruined, thanks Mr. Joseph

You killed it Josh, love your creative mind

*funny music stops*

Now let's talk about the way how the MV is looping itself

I would say that it is a demonstration of the twisted circle that is life

Maybe it's a very basic analysis but I think of all the complicated lore-oriented MVs this one is uncomplicated

What is shown here is how our psyche can play tricks on us and how we can complicate a rather simple situation ourselves

If Tyler hadn't had dark thoughts then nothing would have happened to the bread, so he would have just gone and given it to Josh

This shows how our psyche itself can abolish the situation in which we find ourselves

Looping, on the other hand, shows that as long as we don't do anything about it ourselves, we will be stuck in this fishbowl (see what I did there?)

Maybe it's one big AD to check your mental health and a sign to try to get better

Lyrics!

Rat race, place to place, adding weight / Tendencies on repeat, innit? - rat race for sure happened in Dema, and repeat is literaly the loop, innit meand that Clancy is canonicaly British

Benefit from a shoe with no lace - shoe with no lace would make you fall back on the behaviour that you are running from

Take the seat with the crease in it - seat of someone who already tried to change their life, or even who had the same dreams and hopes for better future like Clancy

This could be parallel to When I leave, don’t save my seat/ I’ll be back when it’s all complete from Chlorine

I don't care, you control me / Leading me anywhere - well, all I should say is Dema don't control me and we all know the rest of the story

I don't wanna backslide to where I've started from - he doesn't wanna go back to his back habits as well as doesn't wanna go back to his life before he tried to escape

There's no chance I will shake this again - if he falls back one more time that will be the end of him. His psyche won't take it anymore and his plans will be buried

'Cause I feel the pull, water's over my head - this is parallel to Fall Away And I, I can feel the pull begin. But it also gives me the parallel to Holding On To You MV, the scene with the rope

Strength enough for one more time - like I said, this would be the last attempt to change everything

Reach my hand above the tide - it could indicate that his physical strength is also wearing out

I'll take anything you have / If you could throw me a line - again with the line. But it also can mean that he can endure anything now, he just needs a little helping hand

I should've loved you better - this line can be directed both to himself but also to the person who extends his hand to help. He might not have appreciated both parts before and now regrets it

Do you think that now's the time / You should let go? - This line is like both a request and an apology. As if he wants to say “I'm sorry I treated you badly before but please don't leave me when I need help”

Bad place, on a hundred-dollar bass - this line is also giving me Stressed Out. You can imagine the cheap bass being transported on the bicycle right?

Kinda wishin' that I never did "Saturday" - I think that he doesn't mean the MV irl lol, but the regret of taking part in Bishops' manipulation altogether

Is that a stain? You should change - a play with mentioning Saturday and the lirycs She said that I should change my clothes

Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? - like I said before I believe that this is Ned looking out for Clancy, wishing him well

Thanks for asking, in a way, but / Accidentally uncovered a new one yesterday - safe to say that he is not doing better lol

What happened to what I brushed under the rug? - what happened to how well he used to be able to hide his problems and true feelings

I used to be the champion of a world you can't see / Now I'm drowning in logistics - if viewed as a fact that he created this world it now looks like he wants to regain all control over it. Logistics is to take care of the management of planning. And once again we see the mention of drowning

The bridge is acting as an externalization of his myhs and fears that even if he is outside the Dema, the Bishops will still have control over him

The entire song is about both regaining conrol over the world of Dema but also regaining control over himself, his psyche.

The main theme is about not going back to old habits.

The most important thing here is progress and pushing forward.

Because one wrong move can make all the work in vain and we will sink to the very bottom.

Safe to say that I liked it haha

[suzyandthefox]

Clarification, Apologies,A word for the community, and Blog Updates..

On 31st of July, around a week ago, A situation involving some users, myself included, happened, causing me to go on a temporary hiatus for a week, as it was handled indelicately and caused a lot of harm to users who never asked to be a part of it.

For the sake of privacy and not stirring the pot again, I will not name any of the users.

I should clarify that English is not my first language, so there might be grammatical mistakes in this.

TLDR: I was careless and I reblogged from NSFW blogs not knowing they were NSFW blogs, causing harassment to other members of the community. I have deleted these reblogs and I decided to not reblog anything on this blog for the safety of everyone.

Elaboration under break:

It started when an user, who I will not name, made a callout post about me. They screenshotted reblogs I made, and while I still believe that that user fully intended to cause drama instead of addressing any real issue, they were right in calling my mistakes out.

Throughout several months, I have reblogged from NSFW accs, even though I have a bold NSFW DNI on the top of my blog. I have also reblogged from an MDNI account multiple times despite having minors on my blog, endangering both parties.

I have since blocked these accounts and deleted these reblogs. However,that doesn't undo the damage I already did.

I know I have problems with many social skills, like social cues and etiquette. I do have Autism and ADHD after all. This led to, when I was reblogging things that I found cool, me accidentally missing many of the signs that most would have seen. I didn't realize what was happening until someone told me.

At the moment of the discourse, this blog had 194 followers (202 as I write this). In any other social media platform, this number means you're basically invisible, and so that's the logic I went with. I thought nobody saw this blog so I was lenient with my content, treating this blog as my personal shitposting place.

However, after this discourse,I realized that I am being seen on Tumblr. That unfortunately was at the cost of accidentally hurting innocent users who never asked to be a part of this, along with ruining my mental health for a while.

There have been kind hearted users who defended me, and users who told me that I am being looked up to and that I am a well respected member of the community, which is something I will remember for the rest of my life.

What I am trying to say is, I fucked up. Badly. Yet despite that, the community has given me a second chance, proven by the fact that I wasn't blocked or unfollowed (Quite the opposite actually)

I now understand the responsibility that I have and that I need to be very careful with what I post, especially since I have made the choice to let minors interact with this blog. I now understand I must look after them because of that.

I apologize so much for everyone that has been hurt by this. I won't ask for forgiveness. I only ask that everyone knows that I have acknowledged my mistakes and I promise to better myself in the future.

I am a human and I make mistakes, please don't ever be afraid to tell me when I do something wrong. (Tell me, by messaging or commenting. Please not by making a call out post on me, since this has proven to hurt more than help others.)

I made this blog to be a safe place to enjoy a certain trope without getting hurt, and I want to live up to that. For the safety of everyone, me included, I will make some changes to this blog.

Changes:

1: No more reblogs

This blog was handled indelicately, and unprofessionally, and I decided that I will change that, I will make this blog into an Art/Writing blog first and foremost, With prompt posts being a second priority.

The only exception to this will be fanworks or fanfics or things that are directly made for me/things I am mentioned in, I will tag them accordingly depending on content.

2: This blog is now +16

Yes, I interacted with users younger than 16 before, Yes,I have followers who are less than 16. I have thought about it deeply and I realized that for the sake of not hurting anyone, and if I wanted to be more comfortable around this blog, then I need to keep people who are slightly closer to my age range, Instead of censoring myself,

that's because I have taken a liking to (Nonsexual) fatal vore and gore, I want to make similar content in the future, as well as other darker topics.

I will not block anyone who is younger than 16, but I will not directly interact with you anymore, even if I'm not responsible for your actions, it's just to be safe.

Now I need to make some things clear:

I am not a minor so I can interact with MDNI blogs and they can interact if they wish to. As long as they're SFW

But, again, I will not reblog from them for the safety of those who are minors following my blog.

Vore is nonsexual for me and I don't want my work to be sexualised, especially because I depict myself in it.

I have absolutely nothing against people who are into it sexually, I just don't want my work in these circles.

I can't control how my work is perceived and where it goes, however my blog is SFW (In the sense that there's nothing graphic or sexual on it), meant for people who are also interested in that content, and so I don't want to see people who think it's “hot” here.

I am not responsible for anyone's actions on this blog, I am not responsible for people who find my content weird or sexual or whatever,I am not responsible for the minors on this blog, I am not responsible for my mutuals, I am only responsible for my own actions.

This community has been extremely supportive of me, and there have been people who comforted me during this whole situation, without them I probably would've deleted my blog from sheer panic.

I owe these people my life, thank you so much for being on my side.

I hope that one day, my blog can be a source of comfort too.

Thank you for reading and I hope you guys have a wonderful day!

[cherryblossomchronicles]

The revelation of Seok-Ryu's past was a gut-wrenching blow.

Going from the high of deciding to spend the rest of your life with your partner to realizing you might not even have the time for that must have been devastating for her. But then choosing to not tell your best friend about it, your family? It would have totally crushed her to go through all of that alone and put a strong front for them.

“It’s okay Seok-Ryu, it’s not a big deal.

I’ll get better. I’ll tell them after I get better.

It’s not a big deal, its nothing.”

As an elder daughter, Seok-Ryu had internalized the societal expectation that she should be the pillar of strength for her family. This pressure to always be "okay" had become so ingrained in her that she felt compelled to hide her struggles. Her reassurances to herself that "it's not a big deal" were a desperate attempt to maintain a facade of normalcy.

This is such a consistent thing with elder daughters in a family. We must have it all planned, we must be able to solve everything, survive anything that we prefer to tell anyone about our problems when we have already solved them. This habit becomes so ingrained in us that we stop telling people even about the things that we should.

“I’m going to worry about a recurrence next year and the year after that.

Even if I remain in complete remission for five years, I won’t be completely free.

I’ll always be near death’s door. I am going to feel a little anxious and sad.

That’s how my life’s going to be.”

This is the life of a cancer survivor. Even if you’ve risen triumphant from the battle, war is not yet done – rather your entire life is now a war. You can’t rest it easy. Stress, anxiety and fear will constantly dog your steps and make a home in your routine. This is what Seok-Ryu’s reality look like with her mental health taking a steep nosedive due to her physical health. She had to let go of so many aspects of her life to deal with her new reality. All this while she was also dealing with her slowly crumbling relationship with Hyeon-Jun.

When she could finally let go of that threads tying her back to the toxic part of her life and decided to come home, she realized there is another battle that she must face – lying to everyone she loves day-in and day-out. And she did, pretended that everything is fine, that things didn’t work out for her, that she had burnout – that she came back due to workplace harassment. Everything was acceptable but the truth. That little nugget was something that no one could know about. For all the problems, scorns and disappointment that she had to face and go through, the reality of the hellscape her life turned to was known only to her and she was happy in that escape. Even if she had to pretend, make herself sick, avoid the situations and deny herself the things she wants, if she could believe that everything is back to normal for few moments – all of it would be worth it.

“That’s why I don’t need love anymore.

The stomach I have left can barely handle digesting my dream.”

In all this, one thing that made me immensely sad was her decision that she and her situation is the problem. What happened with Hyeon-Jun made her think that no relationship would be able to survive the stress that comes as a complimentary gift of being with her. And she? She swore off it. Everything is acceptable in her books, everything, but ruining her friendship with Choisseung.

She knows he likes her, she also remembered that she liked him first, in their past but she would rather be selfish and keep Seung-Hyo in her life as her friend. At least with it comes a guarantee that even if he gets angry, mad or furious with her, it’s all temporary. That their friendship is made of sterner stuff to crumble under this pressure. She can’t say the same about relationship and repeating the slow death of a relationship like the way she experienced is the last thing she wants to do. Especially when the person in question is someone, she holds very dear.

Having decided upon the truth about being with her, she went ahead to turn him down as gently as she could, crushing any hope while also trying to preserve as much of their friendship as she could.

Seok-Ryu wants. She wants to be happy. She wants to not have to worry. She wants to cook for a living. She wants to see her parents happy. She wants to see Seung-Hyo successful. But more than that – she wants to keep seeing that smile on his face and she knows being with her is the fastest way to lose it.

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

SUPERHERO BATTLE, GO!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Bruce Wayne/Batman (From a lot of things)

Without being an orphan, Bruce Wayne never would've become Batman. Its so integral to his entire character. It's also, I think, where his whole "no killing" rule stems from. He's also iconic for adopting several other orphans after becoming Batman - orphan helping orphans.

He lost his parents, and swore he'd take revenge, fully willing to die in the process. Then he did something he couldn't have expected…he built a new family, raising dozens of other orphans or just other kids willing to help him.

Being an orphan fucked him up so bad he started dressing like a bat and jumping through windows looking for crime.

He's Batman.

Bruce Wayne / Batman is the orphan of all times. Everyone knows about him and the tragedy turning him into an aloof justicier with poor social skills determined to put an end to crime in the rotten city of Gotham while offering an amiable and brainheaded facade of idle billionaire with too much time on his hands to the public

There are a lot of different versions of Batman so this is based off the ones I have watched and liked. Bruce Wayne is Batman because of his parents death, if he wasn't an orphan he would not be Batman. Lots stories have characters that are orphans, but with many of them their parents could just be on holiday and the story would be the same, for Batman/Bruce Wayne, his parents death is the event he has built his entire life around. If the Wayne's are not murdered, leaving Bruce an orphan, a fundamental building block, possibly the fundamental building block, of Batman is gone and the rest of the story would probably not happen.

I am the darkness. I am the night. Alfred please I don't want your cup of tea and leave me alone so I can brood in peace

Literally one of the most iconic orphans in pop culture. His parents were shot to death in front of him, ruining any attempt at good mental health. I won't get into a tangent on comics continuity so in the version that's generally accepted as Canon nowadays (or as canon as it gets for comics), his butler raised him, which makes them have a weird power dynamic as a parent/child but also master/servant relationship. Later in life, he goes on to adopt several kids, one of which is also an orphan that he keeps at arms length and not actually formally adopted until adulthood, and whose parents died at the same age his did. He's a character perpetually stuck in his own cycles while trying to break it so that no more eight year olds are left alone in alleyways (Also, in current comics, the butler is dead! We'll see how long that lasts).

DARKNESS! NO PARENTS!

This is where I watched my parents die, Fictional-Orphan-Smackdown.

Look I assume he's already on the list. He's the poster child for orphans. It's just funny to add yet another vote for him. Being an orphan affected him so bad it became a core part of his identity as an adult with a father figure (Alfred).

Peter Parker/Spiderman (He's also from a lot of things)

Orphaned twice over

Both of Peter's parents are dead so he's raised by his aunt and uncle, his uncle dies as part of his origin story. His aunt often dies eventually too, but she may come back depending on continuity (ex. Peter in the comics made a deal with the devil to sacrifice his marriage and child to bring Aunt May back)

It’s Spider-Man guys. Coolest guy ever.

[helplessautomaton]

Could I request tecchou with prompts 3 and 12? Thank you I love your work!

3 (“don't you see? I'm the only one who really cares for you”) + 12 (“please.. just let me hold you.”)

sorry for the long wait, i realize that i, in fact, have drafts that need to get done! anyways hope you enjoy this, its currently 3:30 am and my head hurty

no TWS i can think of, i think, maybe idk

Life wasn't exactly in the cards for you and anyone close to you knew that well. Your mood reflected every bit of frustration. However you tried your best to look up in the worst of it all, it's that or to the grave you go. Your poor lip had been picked at so many times, the blood staining your nails. You wondered if the skin would ever stop healing. Afterall, what's one public display of terrorism on your way to work caused by who knows, gonna do to ruin your already shit year? That's right, bring Tecchou Suehiro into it because you wanted to be heroic against your body’s wishes. It was alright for a while, he talked to you a far bit longer than the rest of the victims of the attack. You jokingly took pride in his coworker’s comment about Tecchou spending just a little longer on you. The letters came frequently, more so legal nonsense with “support” mentioned in them, then there was one from Tecchou. The name didn't click originally and the letter was almost discarded had you not kept reading down. He thanked you for your bravery and how much it takes, rolling your eyes but it did make you smile. 

Applauding you for what you did that day kept circling back in your mind, something to latch onto with a heart barely full of pride. The legal letters stopped but tecchou’s letters did not, after the third letter, you wondered why he even bothered scouting out your address. Everything you felt was now sinking down into the dark blues of regret in your mind. Then the letters were not enough so he came in physically, a little cafe date then to a restaurant, then something bigger. It all became just a little too much then way too much. You used to not notice the way he would make sure you were physically okay, but you followed his eyes carefully. His questions about your health did get annoying and not comforting like they used to be. People who used to check in stopped, like they were scared but you never knew why. You got a hint that Tecchou’s behavior towards you affected his line of work. The white haired man who scoffed at Tecchou’s extended talk with you that fateful day was the same man yelling loudly at him. Forcefully taking the infatuated soldier with him while giving you mixed signals on how he felt about you, Tecchou’s expression went blank in his coworkers grasp. 

The last person you talked to got exposed for horrible things, you only found out by Tecchou. Your world was falling apart in a weird way and you didn't even know why anymore. The man in question only tilted his head at your quickly distressed face, you forgot why he was even with you today. He tried to comfort you but you resisted in your scrambled up mind. Tecchou let out a sigh before speaking up, “don't you see? I'm the only one who really cares for you, i deeply care for you,” He said your name with such care in love but you were too deep in mental turmoil to even realize it. Tears quickly spouted from your eyes, while you cried out on why this was happening to you, why everyday was such a horrible day. You barely felt Tecchou’s figure try to hold you before you pulled away, your hands covering your face as you still cried. Trying to sit down on the floor but Tecchou refused to let you sink down, still desperately wanting to hold you. “please..just let me hold you. I want you to be okay.” Why can't you have an okay year?, why couldn't you have friends that weren't such horrible people? Why did it have to be you that people were afraid of? Why out of anyone did you decide to play hero? The only person who had stayed was Tecchou, it was always Tecchou. 

So just this time, let him hold you.

[poppylovestowrite]

hii could i please request a little hurt/comfort drabble where reader feels sad during christmas season but forces herself to at least pretend to be happy because karma’s birthday is on christmas day :( but karma notices how her smile doesn’t meet her eyes and stuff and asks reader about it!

Smile For Him | Karma x Reader

Pairing: Karma x Reader Summary: Your life has been falling apart due to the recent events of your parent's divorce. But since it's Christmas and your boyfriend's birthday, you tried to act as if everything is okay, but Karma sees through your fake smile. 

●・○・●・○・●●・○・●・○・●●・○・●・○・●●・○・●・○・●

It's supposed to be the happiest time of the year. It's your boyfriend's birthday and Christmas. The holiday spirit has to be overflowing you by now. But, it isn't, no matter how much you wanted it to be. Last year, you were spending time with your family. Everything was perfect. And here you are, one year later, living with your mother, talking about what the two of you would be doing on Christmas.

A Christmas without your father. He's out of town. Separating from your mother took a number on his mental health, so he is spending the holidays with your grandparents. You won't see him until January. 

Of course, your mother understands that this was hard on you, but promises you that Christmas with her could still be fun. You guys talked about it a bit more but decided that you would rather spend Christmas with Karma instead. 

She tried not to get too offended and figured it was for the best. 

You did feel better knowing you would be spending the day with him. However, the pain of your parent's separation stopped you from being fully content. 

When you saw him, you made sure to keep a smile on your face. It's Christmas and it's his special day. You can't have your personal problems ruin his day. Especially since Karma has already been your rock throughout the entire divorce procedure. 

"Guess which hand is holding your gift." Karma smiles, keeping both of his hands behind his back. 

You looked up from your hot cocoa and blinked. 

"Oh. You didn't have to get me anything." 

"It may be my birthday, but it's still Christmas. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't give my favourite girl anything?" 

Normally, you would internally swoon when he calls you his favourite girl, but not today. 

"Now hurry up and pick a hand." He urged you. 

You weren't really in the mood to play this game with him, but, it is his birthday. The least you could do is play along. 

"Um..." Your eyes lazily darted between both hands. "The left one."

Karma grinned. "Correct." He reveals your gift that looked perfectly wrapped. "Actually, I was using both hands to hold it so either way you won."

You strained a smile and accepted the present before putting your hot cocoa on the table. 

"Thanks, Karma."

Before you can even open it, Karma places a hand on your lower back to push you forward to let you rest your forehead against his chest. 

"You don't have to pretend everything is okay for my sake," Karma spoke softly with a smile and a gentle pat. "I mean, it's cute that you're trying, but I don't want to see a fake smile on your pretty face."

His hug and gentle words caused you to reach your breaking point. 

Unable to control yourself, you started to shake as tears were building up until it all came pouring out.

You cried and cried, even if you promised yourself you wouldn't today, worried you would ruin something that was considered a magical day. 

Karma didn't think you ruined it, though. Just having you try and make his day special was enough for him. 

When you stopped, you were able to enjoy Christmas with Karma somewhat. 

Maybe next year you will be in a much better place. 

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Words bubble up like soda pop

Summary: Y/n gets fed up by the arguments her and Trent keeps having

Angst & Fluff

Another argument had ruined your day, small conflicts bubble up to a big argument. You can’t believe the arguments kept sneaking up behind your back every day, you’re sick of it. But neither of you cares about it, that’s the problem you can’t seem to take the matter into your own hands. It’s like an never ending loop, conflict-argument-he says he’s sorry and tells you he loves you- cuddles then it goes on.

-

“I said I’m not feeling well, why can’t you accept it?” You said, it felt like the hundredth time you’ve said it. Tonight Trent’s friend is hosting a party that he wants to go to but you have no interest of going, you just couldn’t stand him at the moment after all the words he had said to you last night plus all the nights before that. “You only care about yourself Y/n” Same sentence he brings up every fight. Not just that, your mental health has been shit as well and it blends into the state you’re at in your relationship with Trent. He knows that you’ve been fighting with your mental health before, but now when the season isn’t going well for him he has started to blame himself for a lot of things that’s happening with the team. He uses you as a wall to throw all his emotions on you- which you didn’t mind at the beginning, you wanted to be there for him but now it has become too much.

“Come on don’t be dull, it will cheer you up” Trent pleaded.

You thought about it for a minute. Maybe this was the point where you couldn’t care less, you felt like everything in your life was out of place, why not have a little fun in all this mess?

”Fine, I’ll go” You stated.

You spent the rest of your afternoon getting ready for the party, you took a shower, picked an outfit, did you makeup. You decided to go for a navy blue dress and loose curls in your hair. This was the first time in a long time you felt beautiful, you smiled in the mirror and then went down the stairs, Trent was waiting on the couch looking at his phone until he saw you.

He walked over to you and spoke “Wow baby, you look..”

“Amazing? Yea I know”

“Wish I could say the same” You teased.

“Hey!” Trent gushed as he grabbed you round your waist and kissed your neck.

You felt his warmth around you, his perfume that comforted you, you felt safe in his arms. But suddenly you remembered how he had treated you lately and decided to take a step back.

“Trent, we should go” You spoke up after a moment in his embrace.

“You’re right” He said and let go of you as the two of you walked to the hallway and got ready to leave.

In the car on your way to the party you two listened to your shared playlist and vibed along with the songs - acting like everything was okay between you two, you got flashbacks from the beginning of your relationship when you were two dumb teenagers madly in love. You think back and wondered where did it go wrong?

When you arrive at Trent’s friend house you see many cars parked outside the house and you already know is gonna be a tough night.

You entered the house and loud music is playing, people dancing and you see Trent’s friend approach you two.

“Trent, nice to see you! And this is?”

“My girl, Y/n” Trent said as he looked at you and you smiled at his friend.

You leave Trent to speak with his mates and you sit down at the bar ordering one shot for yourself. You felt the liquor burn down your throat, as Trent sat down next to you.

“Take it easy Y/n don’t lose it again” Trent mumbled.

“Excuse me?” You snapped.

“Don’t want you all wasted, just saying” He shrugged as you felt the anger rising inside of you, he could piss you off so easily and you hated it.

“Don’t tell me what to do, I can handle myself”

“Clearly not” He accused.

“Piss off Trent” You cursed back at him and walked away to get away from him. As you were on your way to the restroom you could notice someone following you, Trent. He grabbed your wrist and spoke“Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer him and kept moving forward and locked the door. You had reached your breaking point, it all crashed down on you. You were sobbing loudly but at this point you didn’t care, you were also pretty sure that the music was too loud for anyone to hear you until your phone buzzed.

Trent: I can hear you Y/n, let me in please

You slowly got up from the floor and unlocked the door, he looked shocked like he had never seen you this broken before.

“Y/n, What’s wrong? Wh-“

“What’s wrong? What is wrong Trent? I’m tired of this.” You cried into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Tired of what my love?” He uttered.

“Can’t you see? We keep having these fights every single day, it’s destroying us. Aren’t you tired too?”

“Yeah trust me I am” He chuckled as you sniffed.

“Then why aren’t we doing anything about it?” You sighed.

“Three years ago I would never have thought I'd be in a restroom with you crying over our relationship” He scoffed.

“Trent answer me”

“I don’t know Y/n, but I’m sorry it has to be this way. I really am” Trent said as you noticed his eyes began to tear up.

Great. Now you’re both crying together, what have you two done do yourselves? You knew you two couldn’t escape that you loved each other too much to break up, so that felt safe in your head. He couldn’t live without you, you couldn’t live without him, who would take care of you when you’re wasted like this? Trent would, who would take of him after he lost a game? You would.

“I love you Trent” You said.

“We’re gonna fix this Y/n, okay?” He assured.

“Okay” You said as you took a deep breath to calm down.

Trent hold you in his arms for a while, just the two of you in a restroom on a Saturday night.

“Let’s go home and watch a movie together” Trent suggested.

“Only if you let me choose”

“Of course my girl” He said and kissed you.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

Heya, I don't plan to talk about it much but due to what happened with forever, who was my fav and really the heart of the project for me, I'm probably not going to post about Qsmp much anymore. Or if I do, it'll take a while. But please read if you're in the same boat as me, its kind of a ramble and you can skip certain parts but I'd like to hear your thoughts. The last couple of paragraphs touch on some stuff that I hope can help be worth your while, whether you're here for the Qsmp stuff or the mental health part.

Now this is absolutely not to say the rest of the project doesn't matter or that people should give up on it. The Qsmp is incredible and should be known for what it has achieved: breaking language barriers and uniting communities. Its wonderful, unique, and still has so much to offer in terms of content creation, so please don't let the whole of it be tarnished for what happened with one creator (we've seen that before already and it sucks). Personally, it got me back into streaming content/mcyt and I'd like to stay more present this time, its so much fun and its nice knowing I can sort of drift back and forth when new things pop up. If you're in the same boat, I encourage you to not feel like its all over immediately if you still feel a passion for this kind of work, maybe you won't get back into it but maybe you just need a bit of time. Whatever you feel, as long as you're happy and having fun you're doing it right.

So, personal feelings (which I suck at but its better than bottling my thoughts and I encourage others to do the same). I'm fucking devastated lmao. His character was my absolute hyperfixation, I'm talking 24/7 brainrot for months. I haven't felt this passionate for a character since dsmp, I honestly didn't know I could still do it. But there's another layer. I live in the U.S., and I'm Brasilian-American. In the U.S., you don't hear anyone saying shit about Brasil. You hear a lot about Mexico, but nothing really south of that, and if you do its usually about sexualizing Brasilian women or narcotics and gang stuff. Not the best representation for little me, admittedly. When you-know-who won the Qsmp Election, y'all I felt something in me spark to life that I hadn't felt since we won the Olympic soccer tournament in Rio in 2016. I'm proud to be Brasilian, I've always been proud of it, but its a pride that's been limited to sports and my own personal experiences. To see myself represented, to see Brasil naturally enter the conversation for a piece of media I loved that I didn't know would have us, and to see us win something, phew, shit got me higher than my wisdom tooth removal. We Brasilians banded together to secure the win, and what's more, my fav cc on the project was the one at the center. I felt so happy, for my country, my community, and for myself. And I know recent events might taint that memory for some of us, but I refuse to look back on my feelings from back then negatively. That was one of the best damn moments in my chronically online life, and I will always remember it with pride and joy, along with the many other moments when this wonderful server made me proud to be me.

So, naturally, when the news hit I was pretty fucked up over it. Still am tbh, but better now that I've had sleep (though it took me a while to fall asleep because of course my sleep gets ruined by bad feelings, bleh). All this to ultimately say it sucks. Like, it really fucking sucks. The anxiety, the disappointment, the sadness, and the uncertainty of "what now?". Might be sounding dramatic but again, 24/7 brainrot/serotonin supply for months that connected me to my culture abruptly cut off because of pedophile allegations. C'mon Satan, I already have to go to therapy, you didn't have to kick this horse while it was down. Joking aside, if you feel as absolute dogshit as I do and have that kind of anxiety where the world feels like its about to end because moments like these leave you with the rug pulled out from under you and the uncertainty leaves you not knowing what to do with your life after this... well, welcome to the boat, bathroom's on the lower deck and snacks are in the lobby. And also I'm here, and everyone else who's been left in the same crummy place emotionally. We're here together, and I hope that can help you, cause I know for me the worst part is feeling alone in it all, but I'm not, and neither are you. We're here, holding hands and cursing existence for putting us here and making us so sensitive and giving us something great only for it to end up hurting us. We're here, and if you wanna say anything, my DMs, comments, asks, whatever you'd want to talk through, are all open.

Now comes the hardest part: acknowledgement and playing the waiting game. Like I said, if you're feeling like me, this kind of anxiety and disappointment has you feeling like its all over. So now's when you gotta remind yourself that the only thing that's over is this moment in your life when you enjoyed a Thing. That Thing can have meant a lot to you, it could have gotten you out of really dark places, and it could be something you'll still think about down the line. It can be something like minecraft cube people that you (I) got way too emotionally attached to. And for whatever reason, that Thing could have meant the absolute world, whether other people would've understood it or not. Its not your fault it ended the way it did, life just does that sometimes, as unsatisfying of an answer as that is. But its true, and its an important lesson. The Thing is over.

You know what's not over though? You. You're life. Whatever the hell you are doing and will do in the future. If this was the best thing in your life you had going for you, I am so fucking sorry. You deserved to be happy with it, we both did. But I promise you, this Thing is a moment in your story, not the whole story. This really was the source of my joy for the past few months, and if its the same for you, I see you. We can feel like shit together, along with the rest of this wonderful community who understand it too. And you know what else we're gonna do? Live, and move on. Not now, maybe not for while, but we're human beings, we persist (sometimes that might look like you're dragging your battered self out of a trench smelling like depression and expired cheese, but you'll get out of the trench, we both will). There's too much to life for this to be what stops you from finding the rest, whether that's some dramatic life change that completely changes the world as you know it for the better... or just figuring out what comes next. Taking a shower, watching that movie you were waiting for the right moment to watch (I'd say this qualifies), setting up a therapy appointment maybe. Whatever you do to feel like a person again, you have that to do, and later down the road you'll have new Things that give it all meaning. So keep yourself going, hit up me or others who would get it, and do what you gotta do to let it pass. Because it will pass.

Deep breaths friend, I'll be cheering for you when it does

[stupidneko]

"so it's my and your mother fault?!?"

Yes!! Yes it fuckin is!!! The constant screaming, fighting and names you'd throw at me just because I'm not quick, that I don't understand things that you HAVEN'T taught me because apparently I should've known already, because I'm not smart and I can't do basic shit because you also never let me do it! Because no matter what I say or do I'm either mocked and taken as a fuckin idiot or I'm treated like property just because you gave me life, because you never protected me when I needed you and how slightly you taken my pain in consideration, the fact that the pain you caused it's somehow MY fault.

You've ruined my childhood to the point of making me feel like I won't make past 16-18, because of that I never prepared myself to face living in the first place, because you made me loathe life and the fact that I was born in the first place.

So yeah it's your fault that my mental health decreased, and that I need happy pills to feel some short of emotional stability,that my childhood was thrown away and it's place was taken by fear and being silent.

And now I have to use the rest of my days if somehow survive by then, to repair something broken, the scar remaining there and never heal just because the reminder of your existence loathe me with pain, hatred and rage.

I cannot rest just because you are fuckin alive and that's makes me wanna kill myself so I can get over you.

[gordontheengineswifenirmal]

My mum would b thrilled that Kamala Harris is running for president, because she’s female. I like her not simply because she’s half Indian, but because she’s strong, she’s classy. She’s intelligent. She’s a mature woman - she doesn’t show off or seek attention. She shows great potential.

I also have to laugh at jd Vance’s comment.

"We are effectively run in this country via the Democrats, via our corporate oligarchs, by a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they've made and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable too," Vance said.

Oh for fecks sake. He acts as though ALL mothers are automatically happy being so. Even if u became a mum through rape or had kids n realised it wasn’t as great as u thought. Or whatever. Ok, me life does suck, but it’s NOT because I don’t have kids.

He wants you to think that ONLY childless cat people have mental health issues, and that tradwife lifestyles don’t. There’s a silent oppression and delusion thought process that goes with that lifestyle. It often feels cultish, and can easily entertain abuse. No thanks. Mothers can be just as miserable as what he assumes ALL childless women are. Some childless women do wish they had kids, n that’s valid. Many of us are quite happy that we don’t. We are equally valid. Sometimes, by NOT having kids, we r saving prospective offspring from more health concerns or possible abuse. It’s actually incredibly responsible, and that energy can be better spent elsewhere that’s more productive for the individual.

In fact, if I would have had kids, it would have been worse. I was never emotionally cut out for children, and they’d bring out the worst of me temper. I know this and accept this about me. I would be the best them/make the afraid of me to love me sort. I’m also extremely sensitive to stress, and get overstimulated easily. This leads to me getting rather bitchy. I’m also sensitive to pain. Pregnancy and especially labour often cause intense pain. Kids are loud, they smell, they are full of shite, piss, n puke. Frequently. I’m not worried about ruining the figure, lol. That’s already been gone, n there r far more serious concerns to worry about.

Besides, a lot of parents think they are doing well by their kids by spoiling them. They create entitle, privileged brats who are unable to properly acclimate to society’s challenges. Struggle is a natural part of life, and these folks can’t cope as easily. They also treat others as tho they can walk all over them. These parents teach their kids that they don’t need to move aside for others, it doesn’t matter if their kids run smock n knock into you. They don’t need to apologise. You are at THEIR mercy. They can’t mouth off to u, n that’s fine. Its selfish. Its delusional. It’s vile.

Also, mental and physical health issues run thick in the family. Aside from that, I’m just barely making it meself. I have tried to keep jobs, and ptsd n anxiety (as well as other issues) have led to me quitting or being fired. I’ve applied for well paying jobs, got me degrees, n don’t even get looked at - unless it’s a scam. I don’t even have my own place. The struggle is so real, i rebt a room.

In fact, the therapist and shrink seem to think that me ptsd doesbt affect it, just bdcause to them i can live in roomd. The thing they dont realise is that its either a room, or im homeless. I dont have a choice. Thus doesnt mean that its not without issue. I have to internalise a lot, since no one either acknowkedges the issues, or dont really care. Or both. And when youre in such a position, u put urself more at risk of neing kicked out. Its a battle of ‘whats the bigger evil?’ I often battle depression over frustration in private. The internalising also leads to depression. Tbe everyday stress of cohabitation add more triggers. It literally feeks like im at war, trying to durvive every day. N wbrn a hoysemate has a paramour over, the intense lsnic attacks strike. These r quickly exhuasting.

With all that being said, being childless, and being around cats makes things slightly better. Cats are soft, delicate. They allow me to experience a temporary patience I’m unable to have with people. They make sweet sounds, they cuddle with me, they look at me with soft, sweet faces. They don’t talk back, they don’t insult or abuse you.

Nah, I’ll never regret being a childless cat lady. I’m doing society a favour.

[mingos]

oof. so… hello.

i know i’m not obligated to explain my absences, but i figured i should anyway because this is actually a long-standing issue i've been dealing with that, god fucking willing, doesn't happen againーbut that is what i told myself three weeks ago before it happened again. basically, because it can sometimes be so common, kinda just want to give a heads up if i ever start acting weird or distant because apparently i've upset some people i didn't mean to.

that stresses me out because, as i've mentioned before, i kind of have this tendency to shut down completely during stressful situations and not speak to anybody, which eventually turns into friends dropping me for a perceived lack of interest (not their fault, my fault). i'm actively trying to break that habit & be okay with vulnerability, so i want to be honest about where i've been and where i could potentially go in the future if this shit happens againーin a few weeks, in a few months, tomorrow... it all just depends, it's not a situation i can control. i'm not trying to ignore people. i just deal with a lot sometimes.

content warnings immediately below the cut but idk maybe just don’t read this if you’re in a bad headspace, or a really good headspace that you don't want ruined. no one should read this, actually. just jump to the last two paragraphs. this is just me explaining i'll hopefully feel okay enough to be back by the weekend.

-

cw: alcoholism; cw: domestic abuse; cw: gen. bad mental health

　i currently live in a dysfunctional situation with an alcoholic & addict family member as the last person in our family yet to distance themselves/cut them off. reason being is they relapse a lot. like, “an average of at least once every 2-4 months since i was 14” a lot. this is a long-standing problem. they’ve been through quite literally every treatment plan imaginable and nothing has stuck.

i do love this person; the majority of the time they're not relapsing, they’re kind & loving. when it’s good, it’s good. but when it’s bad jesus christ… i gotta level with you and say i've feared for my life a couple times.

they become angry & spiteful when drunk and, as of the last few years, physical. mostly when i try to confiscate things i find because i'm "stealing their property" and it’s therefore, to their drunk mind, justifiable. this is a mindset i’m still trying to unlearn because of course i don’t deserve it—taking a wine bottle away from an alcoholic for their own good isn’t justification for them almost suffocating you in an attempt to get it back, or breaking the lock on your bedroom door—but it’s hard to internalize that sometimes when your brain is beaten down, y’know?

when not being guilted into silence so i don’t “ruin their life more” or get threatened with being removed from the house by police, i’ve pretty much exhausted any sympathy or help i get from the rest of my family. half of them either have my # blocked or don’t answer under the weird assumption my family member is going to… use my phone to contact them? which is something that’s never happened before. the other half kind of just shrug because i’m choosing to say here and am an adult with the ability to leave whenever i want, just like they did.

　but i can’t leave—because, like i said, it’s just me now. no one else checks on this person, no one else lives with us, and i’ve already had to call 911 for them multiple times. living with them during a relapse is hell but so is whenever i have to leave the house because if something happens to them or their dog that suddenly becomes my fault. basically, whenever these episodes happen it’s just several days (or weeks) of nonstop stress. but there's nothing else i can really do. i just have to put up with it & ride it out.

-

　things have finally calmed down again; apologies were made, talks were had, we cleaned out their stash together... i finally have some breathing room. kind of. i still have no energy to do anything because i've just been in survival mode the last week (& also sick), so hopefully i can be back to writing by this weekend but i really don't know. i'm still paranoid something bad is going to happen so maybe i'm not out of that mindset just yetーi need to decompress a little before i can feel normal again.

thank you for your patience, and for those who have checked on me & especially those who were understanding it was kind of hard for me to have the energy to talk outside of my one or two comfort people. i miss you all very many and hope nothing more for you all to be loved, warm & safe. love you all very many.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

"My name is Prisha Mosley. I was a 15 year old girl when the trans community found me.

Already diagnosed with multiple mental illnesses including anorexia, a body dysmorphic disorder, and borderline personality disorder, a trauma disorder, I was easy to manipulate and convince that I had been born in the wrong body.

I was told that this was the reason for all of my mental and emotional distress. I was told that changing my gender would cure me. As an impressionable and mentally ill child, I fully believed this.

I also believed that my sexual assault, which happened at age 14, only happened to girls. I wanted to transition to be safe, and I was allowed to make permanent changes to my health due to these beliefs.

Beginning at 17, high doses of testosterone were injected into my anorexic body. This was done by a pediatrician in the same hospital where I was seeing a nutritionist for my severe malnutrition, and regularly receiving stitches for cutting and other self-harming behavior.

What I don't understand is why they never offered me counselling to help me with the depression, the trauma, the personality disorder, or my ongoing self-harm. It was clear that they were solely focused on pushing me into transition without regard for all of the other clear challenges and issues I was experiencing.

Testosterone had extreme side effects, more and more of which I am discovering every day. I suffered hair growth all over my body and hair loss on my head. My shoulders rapidly broadened beyond my frame causing me to be disproportionate, clumsy and in pain. My neck, back and shoulders constantly burn, and all of my joints ache all of the time.

Testosterone also caused changes in my vocal cords and throat. I can no longer sing or really raise my voice, and speaking for long periods of time causes me pain.

My endocrine system is ruined and I'm no longer able to regulate my own hormones. I have no choice but to be medicated for this for the rest of my life.

One of the worst side effects has been vaginal atrophy. This is the shrinking and thinning of the vagina. It is so severe that I am no longer able to use tampons because it is so small, and I'm afraid that I will tear. This has happened before.

One year after starting wrong-sex hormones, despite persistent self-harm, my healthy breasts were removed. I was told I would have sensation in my chest within one year. Instead, my chest is numb, except for the occasional zapping pain. I almost lost my nipples; after being grafted, pieces of them stuck to my bandage and fell off, and I no longer have them.

During the time in which I was receiving gender affirming care, my psychiatrists and psychologists had to ask me at the beginning of each appointment what my name was, who the president was, and what year it was, because I was so far from reality.

They told me no to liposuction and yes to a radical double mastectomy. I was too unhealthy to consent to lipo, but not to top surgery.

I was convinced that my puberty was a disease, and I trusted my doctors and the trans community when they told me they had the cure. But it wasn't true.

I stand now before you in an aching body which is no longer mine. I don't recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I am suffering from severe medical issues with which no doctors will help me, and insurance covers nothing. The medical professionals who did this to me have abandoned me, and the trans community has abandoned me. My doctors assisted me in mutilating myself, and then left me in the cold when I wanted the harm to stop.

But when I see young girls in my situation, young girls who have experienced sexual trauma, who are suffering from mental illness, and who suffer from body dysmorphia disorders, or who feel pressured by social media or their peers to conform to certain stereotypes of femininity, my heart breaks for them.

And while the damage done to my body can never be fully reversed, I can be an advocate for those girls in the same position I was.

Thank you."

==

Beginning at 17, high doses of testosterone were injected into my anorexic body. This was done by a pediatrician in the same hospital where I was seeing a nutritionist for my severe malnutrition, and regularly receiving stitches for cutting and other self-harming behavior.

Are you shitting me? She's busy racking up frequent flyer miles in multiple departments in the same hospital, and nobody noticed or cared. One department is stitching her up, while another one is cutting her up.

Asleep at the wheel.

my psychiatrists and psychologists had to ask me at the beginning of each appointment what my name was, who the president was, and what year it was, because I was so far from reality.

She couldn't be presumed to know what year it was, but she was presumed to be able to consent to irreversible life-long medicalization.

Sure, that makes sense.

While I normally wholesale reject the ideas of the bible, in this case I think there really needs to be a Day of Reckoning for all of this.