#it’s tired of being in an anxious state and hurting and feeling nauseous and throwing up and i am constantly dying

[strawberrybyers]

lesson learned this week: if your teenage niece asks to throw a party at your house, say no because you might end up feeling trapped in your bedroom due to not wanting to encounter a group of teens in your own home so now you’re thirsty, and being thirsty triggers anxiety and anxiety triggers nausea and nausea triggers more anxiety which triggers stomach cramps which triggers more anxiety which triggers more nausea and i’m still thirsty on top of that. i am fighting for my life in here 😭😭 i think i could start crying i’m having so much anxiety 😭😭

[ratsoh-writes]

Wait they have heats? Then what are they all like during heat? :o

Here’s the link explaining heats

Sans: he’s not too different during his heat. He likes to joke and call it hibernation because that’s how sans treats it. He does his best to be unconscious as long as possible. He usually saves vacation time from work to take the first two days off. His rarely sat longer than three days

Papyrus: he HATES his heat because it makes him anxious and jittery. Papyrus will work himself to exhaustion during in an attempt to ignore his arousal and anxiety. And there’s not really anything anyone can do to help since he refuses to find a heat partner if he doesn’t have a SO

Star: he becomes oddly calm during his heat. The exhaustion saps all his manic energy leaving him in a nice state of normal. It’s terrifying

Honey: the cramps from his heat make him nauseous so it’s hard for him to keep food down the first two days. If he had a partner though, heats would be a breeze for honey. He doesn’t suffer any personality changes. Just terrible cramps

Red: so he’s super horny, anxious, and sore? Sounds like Tuesday to him. Unless one was his partner and able to smell the stronger magic on red, nobody notices when he’s in heat

Edge: he gets more physically affectionate during his heat. Not only in a flirtatious way with his SO. Edge will also hug red, be nicer to his interns at work, give doomfanger many extra cuddles… he’s still super grouchy though, just cuddly and grouchy

Mal: he’s a seething ball of rage during his heat and should be avoided at all costs unless you plan on being his heat partner.

Cash: he’s… hungry. He has the opposite problem that honey has. Now everything looks appetizing to him. Even sweets. If cash is voluntarily making cookies, he’s in heat.

Oak: heats are not a fun time for him. Oak gets really stressed out so any time he’s awake, the stress makes his memory even worse than usual. So bad he can’t really do much, not even bake. He might forget the oven is on.

Willow: same as oak, his heats are a bad time for him. They make his back ache like a mf, and he has his brother to worry about as well since their heats cycle together. Willow usually takes the week off and spends it worrying about how his managers are handling the bakery

Charm: being a monster infected with the lust serum means that charm is always in a state of low heat. So he actually doesn’t have a heat cycle. He just has to deal with being horny all the time

Sugar: same situation as charm basically

Lord: he becomes softer and less snappy during his heat. Lord will even be sweet to his friends instead of his usual sass. He’s still not down to cuddle though

Mutt: he gets pretty temperamental during his heat and will be looking to pick a fight. Not as bad as mal, but close. Lord forces mutt to quarantine whenever their heats start up because mutt will end up getting injured somehow

Wine: he’s very flirtatious during his heat. It’s funny because wine is normally so prim and proper, but here he is making all the old ladies blush in delight when they visit the antique shop. Rip SO.

Coffee: during his heat he has zero f*cks to give. It’s like all his shyness is thrown out the window. He doesn’t stutter one bit when talking to new people. And like wine, he becomes a smooth mf

Pop: literally nothing changes during his heat except for him being a little tired. Pop is blessed with very easy heats

Rhythm: he gets more emotional and it’s pretty easy to get him crying during this time. His bones are also super sensitive so unless you’re his partner, rhythm won’t want anyone touching him

Pluto: heats make him lazy, so unless it’s canoodling with his partner, Pluto won’t want to do much except lay around and read.

Jupiter: same as Pluto basically. His heats are the one time he isn’t super excited to go out and work.

G: he absolutely hates that constantly aroused feeling and almost always finds a partner for his heats. If he doesn’t though, G turns from funny-rude to genuinely rude during his heat.

Green: he very oddly calm during his heat. He likes to pretend that he’s not hurting and raging horny at the moment lol

Peaches: he gets more social and playful during his heat. Peaches is normally so mild that it surprises people to see him so quick to banter.

Rancher: because of all the hard labor he does, he sometimes misses his heats since he’s too busy to notice the arousal and soreness. Rancher once panicked thinking he missed a season before peaches reassured him that he definitely had it at the same time as him

Snipe: he becomes a nest goblin during his heat and will hide away for the four days in a pile of blankets and pillows he drags into his room. Snipe uses his heat weeks to get caught up on any backlogged paperwork he has

Bruiser: the wanderlust hits hard when he’s in heat. Bruiser only comes home to sleep for about four hours a night. Where he is the rest of the time no one knows

Ace: he’s VERY emotional during his heat and can’t even keep up his usual neutral masks. Out of necessity ace has to take the week off and will spend it sulking unless he has a SO to spend it with

Slim: like papyrus, slim takes the work till you drop route to stave off the anxiety. He usually spends his heats with boss doing any and all fixing jobs the mafia properties might need. Slim prefers sore bones over constant arousal

Butch: he gets super playful and cuddly during his heat. He’s basically a big pest to every one around him lol. This also comes with being extra flirtatious. Because of this, but rarely ends up alone for his heat

Boss: his personality really doesn’t change much during heat, but the raging libido does make him a little more distracted. He usually keeps himself busy and focused by working slim to death. Helping his brother with his anxiety makes boss feel better

Rust: like red, he’s great at hiding his heat and has no problems still going to work on those days. The kids are a great distraction. He’s mopey and listless when he gets home though

Noir: he’s super cuddly as well but less grouchy than edge. Noir will straight up cuddle with rust during heat to try and cheer his brother up. This is a great time for a SO to get him to say something mushy and embarrassing lol

Lilac: without that manic energy Star has, instead of becoming normal, lilac is dead to the world. He’s in pain, exhausted, and too horny to want to look at anyone that’s not a heat partner. He spends it in solitude mostly

Basil: like honey, heats make him super nauseous. But basil refuses to not eat so he spends his heats occasionally checking in on lilac and focusing on not throwing up :(

[strawberriesinmoominvalley]

how to write a panic attack

something like this has probably been made before, but i thought i’d throw my two pence in. so, here’s how to write a panic attack by an anxious mess

what is a panic attack?

a panic attack is where someone feels terrified and scared, without being in any real danger. they mainly occur with people who have anxiety disorders and/or ptsd, although they can happen to anyone.

however, a panic attack isn’t just fear. it causes a physical response. you brain perceives a threat, and goes into fight/flight/freeze. adrenaline is released, your body prepares to react. you become focused on the danger, because your brain has seen a threat and is trying to protect you from the non-existent danger.

what causes them?

panic attacks can happen for no reason, however there is usually a cause. these can be anything, from “this room is loud” to “someone just triggered me by mentioning something to do with my trauma” to “i read something about a phobia i have”. 

if someone is already stressed, or tired, or just not having a good day, that will increase the likeliness of a panic attack. something that might not cause a panic attack on a normal day might cause one on a bad day. sometimes lots of things build up until your brain can’t take it anymore. 

triggers can seem very small. for example, if you’re talking about trauma, it could be the abuser’s name, or a smell that reminds you of something. they can be things that scare a character, or a song -�� anything, really. they can seem insignificant, but can cause catastrophic consequences. 

symptoms

everyone experiences panic attacks differently. symptoms are a grab bag and no two people will experience them the same. most people will experience shortness of breath and a racing heart, but apart from that it’s really up to you. the combinations can be weird and strange but hey, that’s anxiety. i’m not going to be able to list every singly symptom here, but i’ll try to list as many as i can:

crippling fear - it comes on the tin, but it can vary. sometimes you’re just terrified, sometimes it feels like nothing good is ever going to happen again, and the world is always going to feel this way. you feel impending doom and fear and it is Bad

being convinced you are going to die. there isn’t really a better way to describe this, you just know this is the end and it is awful

feeling like you are out of control. this usually comes with the more severe ones, as it can feel like you are going crazy

a racing heart - your body feels like it needs to fight or flee from something, so it is preparing to do so

shortness of breath - this is terrifying. it can feel like something is pressing into your chest, and your throat is closing up. you can choke and gasp and never feel like you have enough air. this usually causes you to hyperventilate

dizziness and feeling lightheaded - this usually comes from hyperventilating. your character may hand to sit down suddenly, or, if they’re stubborn like me and refuse to for whatever reason, just dramatically faint

feeling nauseous - most people will feel sick/have terrible stomach cramps, but not throw up. i have, but it’s happened only once

hot/cold flashes

sweating

goosebumps

chest pains - from my experience, your chest just aches and feels heavy, although sometimes it can cause you to double over in pain

crying - anyone can cry during a panic attack. it can cause them to hyperventilate worse, because it’s hard to breathe when you’re sobbing

screaming - sometimes anxiety can come out of anger. they might scream incoherently at people, and can completely wreck their voice in doing so

loss of speech - this can be awful, especially if you’re trying to communicate to someone what’s happening

shaking/trembling - everyone shakes when they’re anxious, but imagine your whole body doing it. you can’t control it, and can barely control your actions

ringing/buzzing ears - this can be mild, or to the point where you can barely hear

talking to yourself/babbling/repeating phrases - your speech isn’t going to be functional. at most, answering yes/no questions and maybe being able to partially describe what’s going on. but mostly, think “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” or “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck”

freezing - the character might lose the ability to move anywhere. and i mean, they could be in the middle of a road and just freeze. it’s not good

pacing/fidgeting/not being able to stay still - they might throw things, jump around, might even partake in self-injurious behaviour

spiralling thoughts - even if there isn’t a trigger, the character’s inner monologue is going to loop and be incoherent. they’re going to repeat the same thoughts over and over and over. sometimes, when they’ve had it enough, they may also have the “not this again” complaint before the spiralling starts

feeling weak, like you might collapse

derealisation - feeling like everything around you isn’t real, and feeling detached from your surroundings. it feels like your in a dream-like state, or experiencing everything behind glass. it is terrifying. this can cause you to panic more, and may even hurt yourself trying to sense the world

depersonalisation - feeling detached from your body and like you aren’t real. imagine staring in the mirror and not recognise who’s staring back at you. again, terrifying and can lead to harming yourself

these aren’t even all the symptoms you can experience. there’s a lot, and can vary depending on the cause of the panic attack and the severity. for example, i tend to only derealise/depersonalise during a trauma-induced panic attack. symptoms change over time, and some symptoms may only happen during one panic attack and then never again.

writing the panic attack

now, i’m going to break this down into three sections - before the panic attack, during, and after

before the panic attack

first you need to start with the cause, which i’ve already spoken about. once you have that, you need to slowly increase the symptoms. it takes about 30 seconds for the anxiety to set in, so during that time you have to slowly introduce symptoms. if the character realises what’s going on, they may try to use coping mechanisms to stop it, or at the very least make it nicer (i’m going to talk about coping mechanisms a bit later). maybe they can feel their heart pounding, or all their senses sharpen, or their thoughts start to sharpen. it isn’t instant, there’s a build up to it.

during this time, they might run. this is extremely dangerous. they will not have the mental capacity then to think about danger. they could run into roads, hurt themselves in some way or just get lost. this is the one of the only times where a person can override the person’s wishes not to be touched (the other being if they are hurting themselves). them being safe is the highest priority.

during the panic attack

the thing about panic attacks is that they snowball. they get worse and worse until you manage to calm down or just get too exhausted to carry on. panic attacks are terrifying, but the symptoms make it twice as scary. it’s not fun.

you cannot reason your way out of them. your character is going to latch onto worst-case scenarios and nothing will ever be good again. they’re going to spiral, think of the same things over and over and over. they’re not going to think “oh no, i’m panicking”. they might have some control over their thoughts if this is their fiftieth as opposed to their third, but they’re still going to be pretty incoherent.

if this is their first one, they’re going to call an ambulance. i’m not joking. a lot of people have no idea what’s going on, and think they’re dying. it takes a few times for them to piece together what’s going on, and realise they’re having a panic attack. even if they know exactly what’s happening and it’s a regular occurrence, it is still terrifying. at one point, i was having panic attacks ever single day. i knew what was happening, but it was still awful.

the way your character can react can change how it presents. for example, if your character is stubborn, or feels like they’re “weak” because of it (which is totally untrue), maybe they’ll try to hide it. i get dizzy when i have a panic attack, and i used to hide it until suddenly i fainted. so from an external perspective, i was fine and then suddenly i was on the floor - although if someone knows you well, they can work it out regardless, so that can be a nice way to incorporate another character.

maybe your character doesn’t want to address the fact they’re having a panic attack. they could be visibly having one, but point-blank refuse to admit it. this can help show personality, while showing that they’re struggling.

panic attacks can last a few minutes. they can last hours. they are described as brief, but my shortest one has been around 20 minutes - which really isn’t short. my longest was 2 hours, and unsurprisingly, it was my worst. when you’re reaching the 45 minute mark, the format changes. then, it’s more like waves - you get really really scared and it feels awful, then you slowly start to calm down before it starts again.

after the panic attack

once the character has started calming down, whether because they’ve realised it’s been hours and they’re not dying, pure tiredness or getting symptoms under control, they are going to be exhausted.  i’ve passed out from exhaustion before. i’ve fallen asleep in awkward paces (like the middle of the street) because it is so tiring. if they’re outside/at work/school/etc. send them home (this doesn’t happen in real life much, but you can make your world a nice, supportive place). they won’t be able to do anything more taxing than making a cup of tea and cuddling up somewhere. they might not even be able to do that. they might even need someone to grab a blanket for them because the effort is too much.

most people feel more calm afterwards, but you can get awful stomach cramps from the anxiety. but most of the time, all they’re going to feel is tired. don’t put them into a battle. maybe if it’s the morning, they might be able to do something not too taxing in the evening. but most of the time, they’re going to be wiped out.

coping mechanisms

coping mechanisms 90% of the time won’t fix it. a lot of the time, you just have to wait it out. knowing what’s happening helps a lot, and if a character has experienced panic attacks a lot they might understand what’s going on. however, this isn’t always the case. i derealise and depersonalise a lot during panic attacks, but that means that a lot of the time i don’t know what’s happening. it’s terrifying. knowing is a thousand times better than not knowing what’s happening.

obviously there are many breathing techniques - for example, inhale for 4 seconds, hold for 7, exhale for 8. there are grounding techniques - 5 things you can see, 4 things you can gear, 3 things you can touch, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste. however, i often struggle to remember these because my brain gets pretty frazzled. but they DO work, if you want to include those.

a lot of people say you should hug someone, and to that, i have one word - NO. most people do not want to be touched in that situation, and hugging, especially if it’s a trauma-induced panic attack, could induce flashbacks and cause them more harm. some people do want to be hugged. some people want to be left alone. some people want to be guided through breathing, or given water, or talked to, or to hold a a hand. but!!!! please make your character ask. if that’s all you take away from this, just remember that you have to ask before you touch someone!

everyone copes differently, so bear that in mind

i want to include friends/family/significant others. how do i do that?

if the person is with someone who they feel responsible for, or have never reacted like this around them, they may try and hide what’s happening. this can make it worse, and it is less fun. i don’t want to have a panic attack around my younger sibling, so i try and hide it for as long as i can. so that’s something to think about.

if you want a cute moment where a s/o saves the day, this is not going to be it. a hug from someone nice isn’t going to magically cure the panic attack. hell, a hug might not even help at all. panic attacks are messy and awful. they can give them water, maybe talk to them, try to help them. honestly? the person is going to feel inadequate. there isn’t too much you can do, unfortunately, and they’re going to probably end up sitting there repeating the same few things over and over. but you know what? a love interest sticking with someone during the frightening, ugly hours of terror is sexy.

if you want cuddles, think about afterwards. as i have said, the person is going to be exhausted, and a lot of people will need comfort afterwards. they may even cry a lot, because they feel awful. if they’re not up to that, well maybe your other character can tuck them into bed, or run them a bath. you can have sweet moments, but wait until afterwards for the other to look after them.

-

there we go! i hope i’ve covered everything! if you need help writing scenes like this, message me - i’d be honoured to help!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The Matchmaker: Thirteen

The fire crackled in the hearth and Bucky stretched lazily, half awake. You had really picked a nice couch. Plush and soft. Good for napping. Or, the activities that he’d just been doing on the sofa with you.

He looked down and smiled a little, adjusting the blanket gently to cover your bottom where it had bunched up and was leaving you exposed. He didn’t want you getting chilled.

His belly was comfortably full of pasta, he’d had a few glasses of wine, and he had the love of his life asleep on his chest. It was a nice night. A quiet celebration to mark the last of your doctorate work getting done.  He knew you were worn out when you’d walked through the door.

It had radiated off of you. You looked exhausted and stressed. He always hated that. He looked up from the pasta sauce he was stirring and held out his arms, “Hey, Princess,” he said smiling, “Why don’t I run you a hot bath before dinner, huh?” You make a soft miserable sound. You’re cold and wet and it feels like the sides of your stomach are stuck together. You’d been too anxious to eat more than a couple bites of the chocolate chip pancakes Bucky had tried to get you to eat that morning. And what you had eaten you’d thrown up just from the nerves.

“I just wanna go to sleep,” you murmur, “I don’t even think I can eat.”  You walk into his arms and thud your head gently against his chest. 

He frowns and strokes your back tenderly, “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

You shake your head and sigh, “Nothing,” you murmur, “I’m just tired.” 

“At least go put on some dry clothes,” he says softly, “Get comfortable. Let yourself relax a little. Let your body realize you’re not running on adrenaline anymore.”

You nod and take a deep breath, “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he praises gently, nudging you towards the stairs, “One step at a time.” He watches you go and shakes his head. He’s a little glad you turned down working for SHEILD. Some types of stress you could handle really well. A frenetic work pace. Lots of things at once, fine. All fine. But prolonged stress, being stressed out for days on end while you unsnarled tangles and had no apparent end to the worrying? Nope. You were built for sprints, not Marathons. SHEILD was constant stress. Constant pressure. He didn’t doubt that you could adjust but he’d prefer you not have to. The effects on your body aside, he wondered what it would do to your heart. 

Bucky listens with half an ear and nods to himself when he hears the shower start, adjusting the temperature of the stove and starting the water for pasta. He knew you’d sworn off carbs for right now, but he also knew that you were miserable. He figured breaking the diet that he didn’t even think was necessary wouldn’t hurt. Not for one day. Not if it meant that you went to sleep with a full belly and he didn’t find you awake at 3am possessed by some manic cleaning demon after an anxiety-induced nightmare vaulted you out of bed. Fully awake and already in a panic. He hated that too. How easily all the shit your older sister had said and done to you instilled that you were never going to be enough. How all the things stupid boys, who didn’t understand you, had perpetually made you question if it was a trap if anyone asked about things you were interested in. It was only now that he lived with you that he really noticed it. 

For a moment he’d thought you had a double life or something. But it wasn’t that. It was a massive, sprawling, fantasy epic you had spent the better part of 15 years writing and refining. There were multiple languages, cultures. All this detail and illustration... It had made his head spin when he’d found the stacks of journals and loose-leaf papers in binders. You’d very cautiously, shyly explained that it was how you’d put in to practice some of the theoretical things you read about when you were first wrestling with it. Without any real-world experience to really draw on. Or access. You’d just crafted one to test things out on. “Like Tolkein but like... Less racist and somehow more pretentious,” you’d told him. You looked like you were waiting for him to laugh at you. He couldn’t really do anything but stare. At least not for a moment. 

“Can I read it?” he asked. 

“No,” you answered hesitantly, hugging the binder you’re holding to your chest, like he might take it from you. Like someone probably had before. 

He hadn’t pressed. He’d simply nodded and very carefully added the journals and binders to the shelf next to your desk. Where you could get to them if you wanted them. 

Your quiet footfalls on the wood floors make him lookup. You’ve stolen one of his t-shirts and found a clean pair of pajama bottoms. Your hair is still dry, but your skin is pink. The water must have been hot. A lot hotter than Bucky liked it.You look better. Kinda. At least less frazzled. 

When your arms wrap around his waist and your cheek rests against his back he smiles, “Baby, I got a fire going before you got home,” he coaxed, “Why don’t you go cuddle up with a blanket... I’ll bring you some dinner and a glass of wine.”

“I still feel nauseous,” you tell him groggily.

He frowns, “At least try, Princess. You need to eat. You might even feel better if we get a little something in your stomach.”

He watches you go as you shuffle through the doorway and frowns. You really do need rest. He can practically see the anxiety and the depression it leaves behind gnawing at you. He knows this is a temporary state. A rudderlessness left behind after your life’s work this far getting handed over. But. He’d much rather drown you in pasta and cuddles until you fall asleep than just let you fall asleep face down on the bed like you are. 

It doesn’t take long to have a couple bowls and a couple glasses of wine put together on a tray. The TV is off but you have the record played on and playing softly. He smiles a little, you’re wrapped up in the fluffy throw off the couch hugging the stuffed dog he bought you as a joke when you asked for a puppy. “Here, Sweetheart,” he said handing you a bowl and a glass. When you take them your hands a trembling just a little and it reaffirms his assessment that you need food in your belly. 

You take them and take a deep breath. “Thank you,” you murmur. Bucky nods and sinks into the couch gently, “I made brownies too,” he said, proud of himself.

You smile up at him and take a sip of wine, “You’re getting pretty domestic,” you tease, “Don’t worry I won’t tell Sam.” Bucky grinned, “Well, I gotta get some skills. You know. Since you’re gonna be a Professor. And a Consultant for the UN... Once I retire I’m practically gonna be a trophy husband. I gotta keep you interested in me somehow.”

You laugh softly, “Well I appreciate the efforts. Even if you are gonna make me fat.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “Baby, you’re perfectly healthy. Fuck that magazine. You’re healthy. You work out more than I do. You can eat whatever you want.” You sigh, “I know. It’s still not nice to read while I’m trying to get groceries.”

Bucky nodded, “I know, Sugar.” He kisses you gently and smiles a little, “But let’s not worry about those assholes now, huh? Just relax and let me take care of you. You worked hard. You deserve a treat.” You nod and take another sip of wine, “Okay,” you sigh, “This actually looks really good... Food Network?”

“Facebook,” he said grinning. 

____________ 

He managed to coax you into most of the pasta and a brownie between two glasses of wine. You unwound slowly and Bucky felt better. He hated it when you had yourself worked up. 

It also hadn’t taken long for him to work you back up again in a completely different way. He applied considerable efforts into getting you sleepy and relaxed. He figured a slow, snuggly round of lovemaking would probably be just the thing. When he had you naked and squirming under his hands, he pinned you gently to the couch and lavished kisses down your body, nuzzling your stomach affectionately. There wasn’t much talking but there didn’t need to be. He knew what you liked. You knew that in the back of his mind, he was thinking about how pretty you’d look growing his baby. 

“I love you,” you’d panted, your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. 

“Who doesn’t?” he teased, kissing you hungrily.

After he’d spent inside you and you were pleasantly tired instead of mind-numbingly exhausted, he’d held you. You’d snuggled into his arms and hid your face in his neck. 

It hadn’t taken long for you to fall asleep. The comfort of a full stomach, a gentle orgasm, and a warm body to cuddle paired with the sweetness of Bucky humming along with the record he’d put on had you fast asleep in a few minutes. 

Bucky felt like he was in heaven, drowsing there in a hazy, twilight state. It was a level of comfort he never thought was possible. He never knew it was possible to be this content. This blissed out. 

He adjusted the blanket over you gently and stroked your hair. This was home and he couldn’t wait to be a trophy husband. 

Tags: @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt, @mistressoftorture @thorfanficwriter, @ctinadiva, @innerpaperexpertcloud @amalthea9  @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Monsters Don’t Soften When They Die (part 3)

once again, this co-written by @millie1536 who has been an absolute joy to work with! she really knocked it out of the ball park with this one, especially how she took on two parts to get this chapter done! please go read her writing, she is so unbelievably talented!!

TW: Panic attacks, purging/vomiting, destructive stimming

--------------

To say that Maggie was on edge would be an understatement. Finding three headless cats on her bed had certainly taken her by surprise. The strangest thing wasn’t even the cats, though. They may have been the most fucked up thing, but they weren’t the strangest. The cats were horrifying, disgusting, yes, but what really threw Maggie was the prayer book. She had thought its location was a secret, and even it if hadn’t been, who would go to all the trouble of picking a lock just to get to it?

One name came to mind.

Margaret.

She knew the others didn’t believe her but she was certain Margaret had been the one to drug her before the show. The more Maggie thought about it the more certain she was that Margaret was dangerous.

Despite wanting to be as far away from Margaret as possible, Maggie spends all day watching her. She does her best to keep the girl in sight at all times. Maggie hadn’t been expecting it to be so difficult, watching the girl, but seeing how she and Bessie talked and laughed together felt like someone was constricting her chest with iron rings. Seeing Bessie being so soft, so loving, to someone who had caused her so much harm only worked to further the pain.

Joan and Maria both knew, as did Bessie, that Maggie needed time alone after shows to unwind. She needed the quiet and the space to relax as the adrenaline left her system, and so when Maria and Joan didn’t see Maggie go upstairs to be alone alarm bells began to ring.

As the hours passed Maggie only became more anxious. She thought back to one of Margaret’s first nights at the house. Maggie had woken up to find her standing at the edge of her bed, just watching her. She started to wonder if that really was all she had been doing that night. Maybe she was trying to see how deep of a sleeper Maggie was. Maybe she was planning on taking an axe to Maggie’s head.

To her neck.

The cats. They’d been decapitated. Three black cats.

In her last life she had heard many stories of witches taking the form of black cats. It was something she and Anne used to talk about, whether or not it was possible for someone to change their appearance like that. In the end it didn’t matter, not to Henry. All he cared about was getting rid of his wife quickly. He had no intention of going through the process of divorcing her. No, he knew how messy that could be.

And so Anne, like the cats, was killed. Beheaded.

Margaret must have known this. Must have known that Anne had given her the prayer book. Why else would she have laid it out like that?

What if it was a warning? What if Anne was next?

What if she was next?

By the time it was dark Maggie could feel the signs of an oncoming panic attack. Nothing felt real, it was as if, were she to reach out and touch something, it would shatter and leave her in darkness. She had locked herself in her room after dinner, having had enough of Margaret and Bessie by that point. Maggie just stood there. In the middle of her room. Not moving. She can feel her mind fogging over as the panic grows. Leaving only one thought.

Bessie.

As the fear takes over Maggie finds herself running to Bessie’s room. She knocks, surprised when the door didn’t disappear beneath her hand.

  “What is it?” Bessie asked when she saw the shaking girl before her.

  “I-I uh,” Maggie struggled to find the words, “Scared… ADD…. M-Meltdown.” Maggie stammered; it wasn’t unusual for the guitarist to struggle speaking when scared.

  “You’re probably just tired.” The bassist told her, not seeming to register the clear signs that that was not the case. “Just go to bed, you’ll be fine in the morning.” Bessie closes the door before Maggie can respond.

Maggie just stares at the door a moment. Not knowing what to do she stumbled back into her own room. Her mind seemed to clear a bit as she looked around the room. Now that she was certain Bessie wouldn’t step in to help her should Margaret try something, all she could do was hide. Knowing it was the most obvious hiding place, but unable to think of any others, Maggie did her best to make herself comfortable in her closet.

Alone and scared in the dark proved to be a terrible combination.

Without being able to see her hands shaking, or the blood that bubbled to the surface of her arms as she scratched, Maggie didn’t realized how far she was slipping. She didn’t notice how her vision was becoming blurry as she fought to breathe, the black dots that appeared in front of her eyes simply blended in with the surrounding darkness.

----------

       Breakfast the next morning was a silent affair. Joan and Maria exchanging concerned looks as the morning continued with no sign of Maggie. Bessie, too, had noticed the absence of the guitarist.

  “I’m going to go check on Maggie.” Bessie announced after breakfast, only to feel a small hand wrap around her wrist.

  “I spoke to her earlier, she said she had some work to do. She’s fine.” Margaret smiled sweetly. Bessie nodded.

  “Well then, that’s that I guess.”

Maria and Joan weren’t convinced. After breakfast they found themselves in Maggie’s room. Maggie’s empty room.

  “Where is she?” Joan asked, collapsing onto Maggie’s bed in frustration.

  “I-” Maria cut herself off.

  “You?” Joan prompted. Maria just nodded at the wardrobe and the way one of the doors seemed to bend towards them. Joan stood up as Maria opened the doors, only just managing to catch an unconscious Maggie.

  “Is she alright?” Joan rushed to Maggie as Maria lay her on the floor.

  “She’s alive, but I don’t understand what could have scared her so badly.”

  “You think it was a panic attack?” Joan asked. Maria nodded.

It takes almost half an hour for the guitarist to wake up. Her eyes flutter for a moment before she relaxes, however it doesn’t last long. In the blink of an eye Maggie has dragged herself back into the closet, her back pressed against the wall as she watches Maria and Joan through frightened eyes.

  “Hey, it’s alright, sweetie. It’s just us.” Maria sees the flicker of recognition that crosses the girl’s eyes, “You’re okay, we’re not going to hurt you.” At that the fear fades from Maggie’s eyes, replaced instead by despair. Maggie buries her head in her knees and sobs. Her whole body shakes as she struggles for air. She flinches when she feels an arm around her.

  “Shh, we’re right here.” Maggie allows herself to melt into Maria’s touch, as she does she feels a second pair of arms wrap around her. Joan.

The three of them stay like that for what feels like hours, but none of them mind. Maggie feels safe, loved for the first time since Margaret had arrived and Maria and Joan had no objections to sitting in a closet with their friend. They doubted they would ever say it out loud, but Maggie was their baby sister, and so they sat there with her as she cried, holding her and reminding her of just how much they loved her.

----------

       After finding Maggie passed out in her closet of all places Maria and Joan decided to keep an eye on their bandmate. It was hard to know how far her mental health had deteriorated, it had never been great to begin with and sometimes her ADD caused her to slip into an almost depressive state. Her physical health, however, was far easier to track.

She was barely eating. Her eyes were dull and sunken, with dark bags underneath them. They can’t stand to see her like this but they don’t know what to do. Maria does her best to get Maggie to eat and Joan has started sitting up outside Maggie’s door at night, but it isn’t enough.

Maggie herself knew she wasn’t well. She knew that, if she didn’t break out of the cycle she was trapped in, she was going to make herself sick. As she lay in bed she felt as though she were on a ship. She shut her eyes in an attempt to keep the world from spinning but when she did the bed began to rock. Her mouth and throat felt as dry as sand but the thought of swallowing anything, even water, made her already roiling stomach churn. She just wanted it to end. She wanted the pain in her stomach to go away. Maybe if she was sick it would.

Maggie pushed aside the voice telling her that what she was about to do was dangerous as she stumbled out of bed and down the hall, using the wall as support. When she reached the bathroom she allowed herself to collapse onto the cool tiles for a moment. Eventually, she dragged herself up so that she was crouched in front of the toilet. She never tried anything like this before, but she’d seen it in movies.

  “It can’t be that hard.” She said aloud, her voice booming in the bathroom. She closed her eyes before sticking her fingers down her throat.

Nothing at first.

But then she felt her throat constricting around her fingers as it tried to clear the blockage. She felt her body shake as she gagged before, finally, she felt the bile burning her throat.

She had hoped that by throwing up she would get rid of the nauseous felling in her stomach but she hadn’t. For a moment she considered trying again, but the sound of someone coming up the staircase stopped her.

She hurried to wash her hands; it was one thing for someone to see the vomit, it was another for them to know how it came to be there.

  “Maggie?” Joan asked cautiously as she entered the upstairs bathroom, “Are you alright, hun?” Maggie nodded.

  “Sick.” The girl said quietly. Joan’s eyes fell on the toilet.

  “Come on, love. Let’s get you back to bed.” Joan smiled sadly as she wrapped an arm around Maggie’s shoulder before leading her to bed. She made a mental note to come back and clean the toilet once Maggie was settled.

----------

        “You need to eat something, Mags.” Maria insists, her hand clenched around Maggie’s bottle of pills, “We both know you can’t take these on an empty stomach, so please love? Just a slice of toast? Can you try for me?”

Maggie nods. She can’t face the thought that she could lose Maria and Joan too, so she does as she’s asked. The toast is dry and flaky in her mouth, and she desperately wants to spit it out, but she needs her meds, she knows she does, and she knows that Maria was right. She really shouldn’t take them on an empty stomach, and so she swallows the toast and hopes that her stomach will accept it long enough for her to take her pills.

  “Sometimes I think those things do more damage than good.” Bessie sighed as she entered the kitchen that morning; Maria had made sure to get Maggie away before Bessie and Margaret got up.

Joan just shrugged. Maggie had told her and Maria about Bessie’s behavior the night of her meltdown and it was safe to say that neither of them were too pleased with her.

  “I mean I know that anxiety and loss of appetite are common side effects but surely they shouldn’t be this severe.” Bessie tried to start a conversation with the other two.

  “You’d have to ask the doctor.” Joan said coldly. There had been a time where she, where all three of them, knew they could talk to the bassist. They knew that she would listen to them and make sure that they knew they were safe, but not anymore. Now it seemed like the only person Bessie cared about was Margaret.

   “Hey, Bess, can we talk, actually?” Maria asked after a moment of awkward silence. The bassist quirked a brow at them.

   “Of course. What’s up?”

   “It’s about Maggie,” Joan started and didn’t miss the slight flare of Bessie’s nose, “We think something is going on between her and Margaret.”

   “Oh?” Bessie crossed her arms.

   “A lot of things have been going on lately,” Maria continued, “I mean...the allergic reaction, Maggie getting knocked into the street, her guitar strings weirdly snapping even though she always takes care of her instruments, the morphine incident, the...” She swallowed hard and winced, “...cats.”

   “We think Margaret is targeting Maggie for some reason.” Joan concluded.

Bessie’s furious expression was not what the two of them had been hoping for. The bassist clenches her jaw and pushes her tongue up against the inside of her lip like she usually does when she was agitated.

   “You really believe that? That my eleven year old child could do all of that?”

   “Bessie, you heard what the police said,” Maria counters, “Nobody broke in last night. Someone in this house planted those cats, and it sure as hell wasn’t one of us.”

   “Plus, only Maggie knows where the key to the drawer the prayer book is in and-”

   “Well, there you go,” Bessie cut Joan off, “You just said it yourself. Maggie set this all up.”

Maria and Joan stare at her in shock.

   “You can’t be serious.” Joan said.

   “She’s doing it for attention.” Bessie went on.

   “Elizabeth, are you even hearing yourself?!” Maria cried, ignoring the hard stare she earned from Bessie for using her real name. “You are accusing Maggie of not only doing everything that has happened lately, but also killing and decapitating cats! Do you really believe for a moment that she would ever do such a thing?”

   “You know what condition she has.” Bessie said coolly.

   “Bessie!” Joan yelped.

   “You two are just wrapped around her little finger,” Bessie continued, “It’s unbelievable. You both need to open your eyes.”

That was the end of that conversation, as Bessie walked away to go find Margaret, leaving Joan and Maria alone in the kitchen in silence. They exchange nervous looks, feeling like they just made everything ten times worse.

—————

        That day, Maggie noticed how Bessie was completely ignoring her. The bassist wouldn’t answer her when she tried to talk to her, she side-glared instead of making full eye contact, and generally just acted like her protégé didn’t exist.

It hurt, to say the least.

Maggie had already assumed Bessie was avoiding her, but this just confirmed that theory. And it didn’t make her feel good at all.

The queens started to really notice the tension between the ladies in waiting when it got so bad that they couldn’t even all be in the same dressing room without it being awkward. They wanted to help, but getting caught in the crossfire could be disastrous. So, instead, they decided to support Maggie, who seemed to be struggling the most by what was going on, by inviting her over more often.

   “Bessie hates me.” Maggie said at dinner with the queens. It’s taken a little bit of prying, but she was finally opening up to them about what was going on.

   “No,” Jane spoke first, jumping to comfort the distraught and stressed out girl, “That woman does not hate you.”

   “She adores you.” Parr added.

   “Not anymore.” Maggie mumbled, “I’m just a replacement...”

Katherine silently reached over and took the guitarist’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Maggie smiles thinly to be polite.

   “Bessie sometimes gets like this,” Cleves said, slightly defensive of her close friend, but that was natural, “I mean, she is finally getting to be with the daughter she never got to meet.”

   “The lady had, like, seven kids,” Anne countered, “Don’t you think she’d be tired of knowing them after, I dunno, the first one she had with Henrat?”

She was kicked under the table for that one.

   “Besides,” She went on, despite the foot that had drove into her shin, “If, say, Edward came back, do you think Jane would start being an ass to all of us? Especially if he starts trying to hurt us?”

   “Well,” Jane said, straightening up, “If you’re putting me in that situation, then I can see why Bessie is in denial of it. She doesn’t want her little girl being some monster people are claiming she is. But I wouldn’t start shunning any of you and I would definitely realize something was wrong if it got really bad.”

   “Bessie’s not stupid, she’s just protective.” Cleves jumped back in, a little worked up about all this criticism her friend was getting, “She’s going to get aggressive over things she’s defensive of.”

   “So I just have to wait and hope she won’t be mad anymore?” Maggie asked.

From across the table, Aragon sighed both heavily and loudly. She rubbed her forehead with her thumb and pointer finger as eyes turned to look at her.

   “This is going to give me a headache,” She muttered before raising her voice so everyone could hear, “Elizabeth is difficult. Very, very difficult. It seems as though the stubbornness she had as a child had transferred over through reincarnation. And it’s gotten ten times worse.”

   “Is there a point here?” Anne asked.

   “What I’ve learned is that one of the best ways to get through to Elizabeth is to appeal to her emotions.” Aragon said, “Open a door for a conversation to happen instead of prying. Forcing to try and talk to her will only make her more defensive and aggressive.”

When she finishes, she notices some of the others grinning at her. She crosses her arms.

   “What? I’m just stating what I know.”

   “You wouldn’t remember all of that if you’d didn’t care about her.” Anne teased.

   “What did you do when this happened?” Maggie asked.

   “Me? Well, I usually sang to her.”

An uproar of coos rebounded throughout the dining room.

   “Oh, shut it!”

————

        It was almost the end of the next day’s show and Maggie couldn’t stop fidgeting. She kept glancing back at Joan and Maria, who smiled reassuringly at her each time.

After the MegaSix ended, Anne spoke back up, catching the crowd’s attention.

   “One moment, folks!” She said, “I know our show is over, but my friend actually had a little something planned, so you’re gonna get one last performance. So, please, give it up for Maggie!”

A supportive applause whisked through the theater as Maggie shuffled up to the apron with as much confidence as she could muster. Anne quickly retrieved a microphone stand for her.

   “Okay, hi! I’m Maggie, I play guitar. Umm... Sorry if I’m a little awkward, haha, I’m not used to talking during shows. Uh. So the song I’m about to play for you was actually written by my m-”

Many eyebrows were quirked.

   “-friend, Bessie!”

Maggie turned to gesture to the bassist, who looks very confused.

   “So this is dedicated to her. I hope you enjoy.”

Taking a deep breath, Maggie strummed her guitar and began to sing.

Behind her, Bessie was rigid.

At a musician’s standpoint, she was quite impressed by how Maggie was able to merge the chords of an electric guitar with Old English, but as a human being, she was horrified. Old memories, memories of Henry, Henry’s words, Henry’s touch, Henry’s tongue, came back strong and she wasn’t able to get rid of them. They only got worse as the song progressed, and she could suddenly feel phantom hands dancing all over her body.

Bessie’s stomach bubbles in warning and she sprints offstage.

Maggie doesn’t notice the bassist’s absence until she finished the song and had turned around, expecting to see the woman’s proud smile, only to find her not there. After thanking the crowd, she hurries offstage, looking for Bessie, and eventually finding her in the dressing room, hunched in a chair with her head in her hands. Margaret was by her side.

   “Bessie!” Maggie cried, “Are you-”

   “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The tone of voice made Maggie flinch and back away. Bessie rises to her feet slowly, like a bear rearing to strike, and anger flashes in her dark eyes.

   “What gave you the right to sing that song?” She demanded.

   “I-I just wanted to try and cheer you up.” Maggie stammered.

   “Cheer me up?!” Bessie barked a harsh laugh, “How stupid are you, girl? Haven’t you ever wondered why I never bring up my music? It’s because it brings back traumatic memories.”

Maggie felt like she was just punched in the stomach when she heard that.

   “And all the songs you could have played, you decided to go with the one that made me sound like a whore! Is that what you think of me, Margaret Elizabeth? Do you think I’m a whore?”

Maggie made a tiny, strangled noise and shook her head, but that wasn’t good enough for Bessie.

   “ANSWER ME, MARGARET!” Bessie yelled, slamming her fist down on one of the makeup tables and making Maggie nearly jump out of her skin. If it hurt her hand, she doesn’t show it.

   “N-no!” Maggie yelped, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying.

   “Then why?” Bessie snarled lowly, drawing her face in close to Maggie’s. Her voice is reminiscent of a bear growling. “Oh!” She sprang backwards, arms outstretched in an overexcited gesture, “You wanted to cheer me up! Well, why didn’t you pour a bucket of pig’s blood over my head while you were at it? That would have made me even happier!”

By then, the shouting has been noticed by everyone, who can only hover uselessly outside the door.

   “I-I’m sorry,” Maggie whimpered, cowering beneath to bassist’s burning glare.

   “You’re sorry?” Bessie exclaimed way louder than she needed to, “Yeah, that fixes everything!”

   “Okay, that’s enough!” Joan finally steps in. She quickly got between Bessie and Maggie.

Bessie scowls, but says no more, giving Maria and Joan a chance to take Maggie out of the room. The moment she was out of sight from the angry bassist, Maggie broke, dissolving into tears. She nearly collapsed when her knees buckled, but Maria held her upright.

   “I didn’t- I didn’t mean-” The girl stuttered over heavy breaths.

   “Shh, shh,” Maria hushed her gently, smoothing out the hair on her head, “What you did was so sweet, honey.”

   “B-but-”

   “Don’t listen to what Bessie said,” Joan went on, “She’s just being an ass.”

The two of them sat Maggie down in one of the queen’s dressing rooms and Maria began to rub her back.

   “She wouldn’t be angry if Margaret had sang.”

Neither Joan or Maria knew how to reply to that, so they changed subjects.

   “Hey, why don’t we all get changed and then go out and get some food?” Joan suggested, “Just the three of us.”

Maggie sniffled, nodding as she leaned against Maria’s side. An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her in securely.

   “Love you, Mags.” Maria said when Joan went to go retrieve their clothes.

  “Love you too, RiRi.”

----------

       Once again Maggie finds herself craving comfort as she lies in bed that night. She briefly considers going to Maria or Joan but decides that she’s bothered them enough in the last few days. And, so, she does what she always does: she unlocks the drawer beside her bed and reaches in for her prayer book.

But the drawer is empty.

Maggie’s chest tightens as she thinks back to the last time she had it. She had taken it off her bed, away from the cats, that night. She was sure of it. She remembered falling asleep with it that night and then… Nothing.

Jumping out of bed Maggie used her phone to illuminate the darkness beneath her bed, hoping that the book had simply fallen. But there was nothing there. Sitting up Maggie can feel the tears forming behind her eyes. She couldn’t help but think about how many times she had felt like this, felt so utterly hopeless, since meeting Margaret. Without her book Maggie didn’t know what to do. She tried think of anything that could possibly calm her down.

Only one thing came to mind.

No. She wouldn’t. She had promised Bessie she would stop.

But did that matter anymore? Did Bessie even care if she started again?

As the tears fell more and more rapidly and her chest constricted to the point where she felt as though her ribs would snap, Maggie realized that she didn’t have a choice.

She bit down. Hard.

The pain in her hand seemed to tell the rest of her body to relax. As she sunk her teeth into her flesh she could feel herself coming back, could feel her mind clearing. She had forgotten how good it felt. The pain grounded her. It kept her from spiraling. After a few minutes, she crawled back into bed, her hand still held between her teeth. She didn’t care who saw her. She didn’t care if Bessie came in to find her mauling herself in her sleep, it wasn’t like Bessie cared enough to do anything. The chances of Bessie even considering checking on Maggie were practically non-existent. And so Maggie found her eyes closing as she was lulled to sleep by the pain.

[rparchivechill]

trauma - 3

Sweet eventually woke up, but not in a pleasant way, she shot up from the laying down position and stood up. She was struggling to breathe normally, only staggered and sharp breaths came from her. She had just had a nightmare about Dejon, and after what had just happened earlier that day, this was not helping. The dream felt so real, so vivid.

"Mmmmh... Sweet, why are you up?" Dejon groaned, rubbing his eyes. He looked next him, seeing that Sweet had gotten up from the bed and was now standing at the foot of it, panicking. He scrambled to sit up, and the blankets made it harder for him to step off his bed. 

 "Sweet?! What's wrong? What happened?" He asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder from behind her.

She let out a small yell and pushed his hand away from her, terrified of him. She was already crying today but this was much worse, she looked terrified of HIM. 

It was one thing for her to flinch but this time she was actively backing away and into the wall.

He sucked in a breath, stepping back from her immediately. 

"I see..." He muttered, dolefully. Remembering the incident that happened at the intersection in the car, he tried his best to give her some space. He felt a tear roll down his face. And then another. And then yet another. He coughed, wiping them away. 

Crying was okay, yes, but... now was not the time. Sweet was in a much worse mental state than he was at the moment. He didn't know what to do. 

Should he leave?

Stay? 

Try and console her?

God, he didn't know. 

He hadn't dealt with this before. He tried to start off slow, at least what he hoped was slow. "What... What happened, Sweet? If you need a second I understand."

She put a hand over her mouth, looking extremely nauseous. It didn’t happen often, but she would throw up at times when extremely stressed. She ran past him and to the bathroom, immediately getting on her knees and throwing up her guts. It sounded worse than it was but definitely was painful. She vomited a few more times before sitting up and taking some deep breaths, just trying to get some air in and relax. She really needed to process what just happened and if it was all a dream.She slumped down on the bathroom floor and leaned against the wall, poor thing looked beyond anxious.

He instinctively side-stepped her, even though she was trying to swerve past him anyways. After he heard her start to vomit, he waited in his doorway for her to finish, silently trying to figure out what the best move would be. He was still little sluggish since being woken up suddenly, and he hunched over slightly as he leaned on the frame. He gingerly made his way to the bathroom, poking his head in the doorway and looking down at Sweet with a very concerned and worried expression written all over his face. 

She tiredly looked up at him and frowned, lifting her arms up to motion she wanted a hug. She had come to the realization that it really was just a nightmare and she wanted some comfort now. “I’m sorry.. I had a really bad d-dream..” She mumbled to him, still raising her arms for a hug.

"Are you okay now?" He asked, hesitating for a moment. He didn't want to panic her even more if he touched her again. He stood still, one hand still on the doorway of the bathroom.

She nodded, still teary eyed but didn’t look like she’d freak out if he touched her. Whatever she dreamt up must have been pretty bad for such a reaction. She still had her arms up for him, though it looked like it was tiring them out.

"Just checking..." He said, before scooping her up in her arms, keeping her close, and trying to make up for whatever twisted dream she had. "It's okay, now... You're safe..." He turned around, seeing his parents in the doorway, with his dad's eyelights small dots and his mom looking like she was ready to beat anyone who had hurt either of them. He just shook his head, silently pleading for them to move out of the way. They did, and that was probably because of how frantic he looked. He carried Sweet back to his room, and he could feel her grip starting to loosen from his neck. His mom had thankfully shut the door from behind them. He laid his girlfriend back on the bed, and sat down next to her.

Sweet sighed and sniffled, not wanting to cry again tonight. “I’m sorry, Dejon..” She said quietly while reaching to him to hold his hand. “The dream felt so real.. I wasn’t expecting your hand on my shoulder so I freaked out.. sorry..”

"Don't be sorry. It was rational. I don't blame you. Don't ever think that I did, okay?" He consoled her, moving himself closer to her and holding her outstretched hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and ran circles over it with his thumb. Still sitting up, he asked "What... What happened in this dream, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I- I mean, only if you're okay with telling me," He quickly added, his hand retracting from her.

“I don’t mind..” She sat up slowly and took a minute, thinking of how to explain this to him. “It was you and I having a fun time like any other day until at night.. you took me to the alleyway behind the school for a ‘surprise’ gift..” She paused, feeling the tears already forming. 

“You pushed me against the wall like he did and started taking off all my clothes.. I wasn’t ready to do what you wanted so you started hitting me, then left me all alone in the alley and drove off..” She had started crying again and was trying to wipe away the fresh tears, but she still had more to say. “You came back later and decided that you wanted to continue with what you were going to do with me and then.. then..” 

She couldn’t finish the sentence but he could have probably understand what she was getting at.

As her story unfolded, Dejon folded into himself, pushing his knees up to his chin and tugging at parts of his shirt. At one point, he covered his mouth as his brain burst with millions questions questing his own morality.

When she finished, he didn't move bother closer to her, falling back into the doubtful pit of if he should touch her or not. He just kept fidgeting with his clothing, repeating over and over the same thing while he looked at her with grave yet pained eyes. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry."

She leaned against him was she cried, she felt like an absolute piece of shit for telling him. He was probably going through enough after having the beat a guy’s face in today. “Should I leave..? I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore..”

"No... Please, don't. I just... I don't want to hurt you any more than I already did today, from the looks of it." He said, taking his shirt and wiping the tears away even though they were still sure to come. "The way you had looked at me when you had first woken up... was what had shaken me up the most, up until this moment." He paused for a moment, taking a shaky breath. 

“That face and the face at school... they were so, so similar. Seeing you like that- I felt disgusting... And it scared me. All of it scared me more than I thought it did." It had been a while since he had felt this vulnerable, he felt more tears drip onto his shirt and pants.

Sweet hugged him tightly, “It’s not your fault.. I am just struggling with processing what happened..” She nuzzled him, trying to show that she still loved him a lot and cared for him. She kissed his cheek and forehead, offering him a bit of comfort now instead of the opposite. He looked like he really was under a lot of stress.

"But part of it is! I yelled, I screamed, and clearly it affected you a lot..." He sobbed, grateful for the comfort but still feeling extremely guilty. "I don't want you to be scared of me..." His eyes still hadn't retracted back to their normal size, and were still barely visible. They almost looked like they were shaking in his eyesockets.

“It will take time for me to heal but I promise this won’t be a permanent thing.. I can forgive you for what you did, it’s nowhere as severe as what.. he.. did.” She sniffled and moved a little so she was in his lap, she held his face with both of her hands and pressed her forehead against his. “I love you so much.. we can get through this..”

He mumbled in agreement, putting one of his hands over hers. "T-Thank you... I love you too. God, I should be comforting you... You're going through so much worse right now and I don't need to add to that."

“Shhhhh… I hate to be rude, but shut up.. your feelings are valid.” She said with a giggle, nuzzling him affectionately. “Should we go ask your mom about food soon? Or we could.. stay and cuddle?” She said the last part dramatically as a joke, she definitely wanted cuddles though.

"I think... I think I'd rather wait. Just a little longer." He replied, trying to laugh a little, too. He finally returned her hugs, and his face smashed against hers. He held onto her tightly as if he might fall if he let go.

Sweet started purring and blushed when she heard herself, it was still a little embarrassing but it was fine. She nuzzled her head into the spot between his chin and collar bone, her purring only growing louder the more comfortable she got. It was a really horrible day but maybe it might have a nice ending, they eat a good meal and fall asleep cuddling.

He snorted when she started getting flustered, but it's not like he looked any different. His hands crossed on her back, and he made she Sweet felt as safe and loved as possible with forehead kisses every once in a while. 

“I love you.. I hope we stay together forever..” She said, tears coming again but this time they were happy ones. “I’m so grateful to have a boyfriend like you..” She lifted her head up to look her lover in the eyes.i

"Right back at you," He laughed, winking at her with some fingerguns. He didn't care if some thought they were corny. Any time was appropriate for fingerguns (Okay, most times). "But I'm glad we met. So, so glad. I love you too; I really do."

“I can’t take this anymore.” She said with a huff before gently grabbing his chin and pulling him into a kiss. It was a very long and passionate one, she clearly had been wanting a kiss but felt like now was the best time.

"I-" He sputtered out, before he was kissed by Sweet, as the lingering blush suddenly came back in full swing and no intent of leaving. He leaned in closer to her, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Sweet eventually parted with the most lovesick grin he’d ever seen out of her. “Ehehehee.. you taste like marshmallows and happiness.” She said while giggling in a loving daze.

 "Marshmallows, huh? That's new." He retorted, smiling at her grin. Which was also making him extremely flustered, but he tried not dwelling on it. He felt a little of his face, and sure enough, it was warm. "You seem quite love-struck right now, Sweet." He mused, pressing his forehead to hers.

She giggled again, “Sorry, I just fully realized how great my feelings really are for you.” She said while pressing her forehead back against his. She also gently picked up his hand and held it.

[something--wicked]

vent

so todays my first day on wellbutrin

i was on prozac for 5 years and now weening off and starting wellbutrin bc i was having constant panic attacks related to my hypochondriasis. and i keep seeing a lot of ppl saying that wellbutrin side effects are nausea, dizziness and a lot of worse stuff thats making me more anxious

but i want this medication to work so bad because i just wanna go one night without getting nauseous and dizzy for no reason, which inevitably turns into a panic attack bc im convinced that im dying

vaping cbd oil helps out with the anxiety but im just so tired of feeling like shit and feeling like my eyes cant focus and feeling disoriented im just tired of it

i cant even eat my safe foods anymore cuz they have been making me nauseous and im too scared of throwing up or inducing a panic attack to try to eat and i just dont know whats wrong and it just sucks right now

on top of that im starting college in a month and i still dont have any idea how im gonna pay for it, i have my driver license test next week and if i pass i have no idea how im gonna pay for the insurance, i still need to get a job but with how much anxiety and general shitty feelings im having now i cant imagine trying to go into work every day and functioning all day

and if i let my mind wander for even a second my brain convinces me that whatever normal body function im feeling is a symptom of a deadly disease that will kill me within minutes. like ive never really burped my whole life i just couldnt do it, and like 2 months ago i suddenly gained the ability to burp and lately my brain has been trying to convince me i have stomach cancer. being on wellbutrin now i live in a constant state of fear that im about to have a seizure. if i go too long without eating and start feeling faint then im scared that im about to fall into a coma from low blood sugar even tho im not diabetic?? if i feel slightly hot which is always cuz i live in texas in a house without central air conditioning, i get convinced that i have an extremely high fever and im gonna drop dead from an infection. ive gotten headaches constantly my whole life and now that ive had one bc of switching meds im convinced im gonna have an aneurysm and die. if my arm hurts for just a second too long im convinced im having a heart attack. if i can hear my heart beating then im just sitting there waiting for it to explode or something cuz it has to be going too fast. i just cant function like this when im in a constant state of panic over every single thing and i dont even know why im feeling like this in the first place!! why am i dizzy and nauseous and spacey ?? i take my vitamins and i stay hydrated but i still feel like shit constantly and theres nothing i can do about it cuz nobody knows whats wrong!!

right now i feel hungry and my stomach is growling, and i saw a warning for a rare side effect of wellbutrin that manifests by spaceyness, and extreme hunger. guess what im scared of now. yep. thats my life.

i just wanna go to a doctors office and have them perform every single possible test on me. put me thru an mri, do every blood test imaginable, give me every kind of scan or exam there is, just do everything so i can know whats going on in there and tell me that im fine and there is nothing physically wrong with me and that im not suffering from stomach cancer, diabetes, heart failure, epilepsy, brain cancer, and lung cancer all at once . because my brain legit convinces me that i am and its so exhausting. im tired of it

I just wanna feel normal and not live like this anymore

[jiangsspace]

Pins and Needles | 04

>> Taehyung gets hurt and Na-Eun is furious at you.

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x fem!reader

Word count: 2,6K

Genre: angst, fluff, actor!taehyung

Warning! Not gender inclusive. This fiction does not include gender neutral terms nor gender neutral concepts. The entertainment business has a long way to go, in providing equality, although progress has been made. This is only fictional and should not be taken very seriously.

Plot: Taehyung gets his first role in a big movie production. He is excited but he knows he’s on it, because his girlfriend, Na-Eun, negotiated with the producers of the movie. What happens when a seasoned costumier with a dark past and an actor with severe seizures meet in the brutal world of entertainment?

Note! All resemblance to real life people is unintentional and all characters, for the exception of Taehyung of course, are the fruit of my imagination.

Two months into the production and Taehyung had managed to crack open your wall and shed some light in you. He would try and steal glances from you from time to time, when you stood in the shadows, ready to help if someone needed to fix their costume. They rarely did, so most of the day you lingered in your room sewing for your own pleasure.

Taehyung was in the middle of a battle scene and the director was monitoring his performance with keen hawk eyes. Taehyung’s physique definitely suited these kinds of movies. He had a lean build and was fairly muscular. Something the entertainment industry liked to call a Robin Hood-build.

The scene was cut and immediately stylists rushed over to him and started pampering him, asking him if he needed anything and patted his skin dry from sweat. You were looking from afar thinking Taehyung hadn’t noticed you, but he had taken the habit of always inspecting his surroundings to see if you were there. When you weren’t there he felt a little uneasy, and when you were he thought his performance was better.

One of the stylists, ever so obviously placed their hand on his arm when patting his forehead with a cold cloth. She was laughing and trying to spark a conversation, which went in vain since Taehyung was stealing glances at you.

Suddenly uninterested by the flirting scene in front of you you turned on your heels and walked back to your room to finish the medieval dress-project you had began the other night when you didn’t feel like going home to your demons.

Not even fifteen minutes passed that Taehyung was knocking on your door. You opened it slowly, no need to encourage his visits when he had a girlfriend. Someone would still get ideas and it would be the end of your career. Maybe his too.

“Hey, you left.” Taehyung’s statement stayed in the air as an awkward filler. “What are you making?” He quickly tried to change the subject by focusing on the dress on the mannequin.

You followed his gaze and registered where it landed. You laughed awkwardly and went between Taehyung and the floor-length dress, as if to protect it from view.

“It’s not done yet. No one was supposed to see it.” You felt bad for him. He was only trying to be nice and you shot him down. “I don’t feel confident enough yet to show my work like this.”

He noticed how your voice had grown quieter as you spoke and you were being shy around him. He had already noticed that when he placed his hand on your arm after laughing together. You had winced and asked him not to touch using the excuse that you were sensitive.

“I say we make a deal.” Taehyung offered his hand and spoke in a more relaxed tone to calm you. “I don’t get to see your unfinished work until they are done, but could you come watch me shoot? It calms me for some reason.”

Your head snapped up in confusion. Your eyes were curious yet suspicious. Taehyung figured you weren’t the kind to take things like that as a compliment.

“What do you mean it calms you when I’m around?” Your voice was small and Taehyung could almost see how you wrapped yourself in yourself and closed off from the world. As if to protect.

“I like to know you’re watching me when I shoot.” Taehyung flashed a friendly smile. He always seemed to have a smile on his face, except when Na-Eun was at the studio. It wouldn’t have surprised you if she was one of the producers of this movie or her father’s company was.

“But like, not in a creepy way,” he laughed throwing his head back. He was showing so much genuine emotion that you little by little loosened your grip on the prejudice you had of him. “You calm me, that’s all.”

You nodded shyly. “If you want I can show you the sketches I made for this dress.” You walked over to a drawer in the side room and pulled out a piece of paper. The drawing was in black and white but you had wrote the colors down. Taehyung had followed you in and leaned over your shoulder to look at it.

“I love it!” he ran his fingers along the lines and stared at the picture for a while without saying anything. He took one step closer to stick his face closer.

You felt his front pressing against your behind and it made you sick to the stomach. Not because it was Taehyung but because the contact was too sudden and explicit. It felt so raw and threw you off guard. In fear and disgust you let the paper fall and turned around like a whip.

Taehyung was surprised and knelt down to pick the picture up and give it back to you, but seeing Taehyung on his knees in front of you made you lose it. You had to get out and take a breather. Taehyung on his knees changed into another man on his knees pleading to get a taste of you and caressing your thighs. He kept repeating how his wife didn’t need to know and that you were so beautiful he couldn’t help himself.

Crying was for the weak and you didn’t want to show Taehyung how weak you were, in fact. But the emotions were so strong the tears came down on their own and stained your cheeks. Your breath was hitched in your throat and breathing became very laborious.

Taehyung got up like an arrow and made the mistake of trying to hug you. He hadn’t realized he was partly the reason you were so distressed. When his arms wrapped around you, your hands flew up to his chest to create some distance between you.

“Get off me!” Your tears were preventing you from seeing clearly and making you more anxious than you already were. You pushed him away, but he didn’t move. To an outsider it must’ve looked like Taehyung was comforting you, but it felt more like an attack. Taehyung’s arms around you made you think of someone else. It made you want to cry out in anger.

You pushed again harder, and Taehyung gave in and stumbled away from the force your fists elicited. At that, you dropped to the floor trying to gather yourself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Taehyung couldn’t finish his sentence. He dropped to the floor with you with sad eyes. Pity was the first feeling he must’ve felt.

The next morning Taehyung knocked on the door again. Shooting hadn’t started yet and he wanted to offer you a coffee. But no one answered the door even when he knocked for the third time. His eyebrows scrunched in disappointment as the coffee in his hand became colder and colder.

He had to be on set in five minutes and he decided to leave the coffee by the door for you to see. He got a pen and wrote your name on it.

He was tired and out of breath by the second take. No one seemed to notice his heavy breathing and sloppily moving limbs. Action was shouted time after time and Taehyung thought his body would soon collapse. His partner was also unaware of his state and kept striking ruthlessly like during rehearsals.

Taehyung was now completely aware if he was one beat late he would get the punch of his life. The thought seemed funny enough to consider, but Taehyung was too tired to really know what was smart and what wasn’t.

If it wasn’t the will of someone higher than humans Na-Eun walked to the studio and locked eyes with Taehyung, as his supporting actor punched him straight in the face. Taehyung’s lip explosed and the blow was strong enough to leave him unconscious.

A scream of agony could be heard from the main studio as you sat in your room watching intently at the coffee cup which had your name written on it. Taehyung’s handwriting was neat and clear, easily readable. Just like him.

Quick steps were heard from the corridor and you knew they belonged to Na-Eun. No stylist wore high heels during the day at work.

You were still sat on your chair, needle and thread in hand. You had taken a break from the medieval dress as it made you nauseous to look at it. Socks were the perfect cure for nausea and stress. And right now you had the feeling Na-Eun was coming to you.

The noise grew louder and louder the closer the source approached your door. Before you knew it, a bull-like raging Na-Eun appeared in the doorway and stormed in to grab you by the hair, but you expected that kind of behavior so you spun around in your chair and escaped her barely. Luckily you had shorter hair, so she couldn’t grab your ponytail.

“You bitch!” She was raging and lava was pouring out of her ears. “Because of you Taehyung had another bout at home and now he’s too tired to shoot.” 

You stood wordless in front of her. Na-Eun hadn’t witnessed anything that happened yesterday.

“Taehyung just received a punch in the face, because of you.” Her words were dripping with poison and her eyes glared at you. Still, you were unable to say a word. She really was a terrifying person. “He’s so tired, because he stayed here with you last night. He’s my boyfriend, keep your hands off of him!” she snapped with such force that she stumbled backwards.

She was fuming with rage and your reaction wasn’t the one she had hoped to witness. You were cold and nonchalant but Na-Eun wanted to see you on the floor crawling at her feet, begging for forgiveness. It was the least she expected from you, from Taehyung, from everyone.

She tried to take a step forward to intimidate you, but you stood your ground with an expression of steel. Not one muscle moved on your face even though you screamed from the inside. Na-Eun stared at you, clearly calculating whether you were a fight worth fighting.

“Keep your hands off of him. He’s mine!” She took one more step forward but surrendered quickly when she noticed you still hadn’t moved. Na-Eun lifted her hand to slap you as a sign of warning, but her hand never touched you because someone’s hand was keeping her from hitting you.

Na-Eun gasped in surprise as she felt Taehyung’s long fingers wrapped around her slender white wrist.

“Don’t touch her, Na-Eun,” voice full of dominance he growled “or you’ll regret it.”

“Tae-?” she winced as his grip on her tightened. “Taehyung, you’re hurting me.” He let go approaching you carefully. Like a hunter trying to soothe a scared animal, he didn’t touch you. Simply whispered in a calm tone to bring you back to this moment. 

Na-Eun scoffed and crossed her arms across her chest, clearly annoyed. Taehyung paid no attention to her, she was air to him. You were the only thing that mattered. Taehyung didn’t know what had happened to you in the past, but he was determined never to see such pain on your face as yesterday.

He had stayed with you for what seemed like hours, to soothe you and talk to you about himself and his problems. He didn’t think you were actually listening, so letting his guard down he poured his soul into your hands and a little bit into your heart. Truth is, you had listened to every word and tasted the bitter taste of each and every one of them. Taehyung really was trapped in a lie of a relationship and a maze with no way out.

“Can you hear me?” he used your name for the first and it seemed to work since your eyes snapped up to his in confusion. As if you had just woken up. “I’m here with you now.”

“You two really are something,” Na-Eun laughed coldly “Your mind is crippled and she can’t speak.”

Taehyung turned to look at her with a passion she had never seen in him. Something he had never even experienced in his life. This feeling of rebellion and standing up to himself gave him the courage to stand in front of Na-Eun and stare at her in the eyes. She had dark brown eyes which were considered beautiful, but Taehyung knew what she was like in private.

“We’re done. This- this sick deal we have is over. I don’t care what rumors you decide to spread about me, I know I’m the better person here.” Taehyung received strength from every word he uttered and his posture now made him look enormous. Na-Eun didn’t quiver, but her lips were shaking. She was clearly intimidated by him and the sudden power he had wielded.

When Na-Eun had left the room you fell to your knees, supporting your body with your arms extended straight and your hair fell to your face. Taehyung knelt down to be at eye level with you but didn’t initiate contact. If you were going to touch him, the action had to begin by you.

“I don’t need to be saved.” You managed to mutter out. Embarrassed to know that Taehyung had witnessed you at your worst, unable to defend yourself and standing like a terrified deer that wanted nothing but to run away.

“Even the strongest need to be saved,” Taehyung laughed. “You aren’t alone in this world.” Taehyung hesitated to confess what he had wanted to say for so long. You hadn’t lifted your head the entire time you were left alone. “And I need you to save me.”

The winter passed and spring flowers were blooming when the production was just at its end. The almost two year long project had taken a toll on everyone, but the results turned out successful. Taehyung received an award for his performance and the movie was a box-office hit. Na-Eun and Taehyung still had to work together as she was one of the producers, but further major conflicts were avoided. Taehyung had you to ground him.

He spent every night with you, in your room watching you work. He no longer called you needle fairy, but used your real name. 

“Taehyung, you did well.” With a smile you offered a cup of coffee to the exhausted actor. The last scene had just been wrapped and the actor was dripping with sweat. Before coming to you, he had shooed away all the attention-seeking stylists who wished to be close to him. He only wanted you.

“Thank- thank you,” he had yet to steady his breathing as his chest was rising and falling at inconsistent intervals. “I feel drained.”

He took the paper cup from your hands and your fingers brushed together. It felt extremely cliché, but you thought someone had plugged a wire in your spine to send electric shocks across your entire body. The contact felt so new and pure. For the first time in ten years, touching someone else felt natural and good.

Taehyung never asked about your past which made you respect him even more. He didn’t necessarily need to know what had happened to you, in order to establish a true relationship with him. Over time you would be so comfortable around each other that touching wouldn’t be a problem. 

And if you were being honest, you had deprived yourself from human contact for so long in the fear of getting hurt again. No one could be trusted in the business and you practically breathed the costumes you created and took pride in the work you did. Taehyung didn’t want to hurt you or make you fear him. He needed you as much as you needed him.

“Do you want to come to my room and try this new jacket I made?” He whined like a tired child but followed you anyway, his needle fairy.

one | two | three | four

 this concludes the final installment of Pins and Needles. It’s been quite a ride, but I made it. Some of you might know that I’m not very talented when it comes to these long pieces, so I hope it made some sense and that the text was good. Thank you xxx

[truerequitedlove]

Wrap Your Cold Hands Around My Throat

the title is a metaphor sorry if u came for a choking kink fic

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, overthinking, the annoyingly overused cliche of dramatized 2012/early 2013 phan as an angst creator in a non au universe

Word Count: 3.4k (i tried rlly hard to wrap things p nicely but the ending still seems a lil abrupt rip)

In which midnight thoughts might lead to something Phil hasn't quite learned to deal with on his own. (wrap your cold hands around my throat, keep me gasping, keep me broke)

~•~•~

Phil laid in the dark, eyes wide open and tears collecting in them. He'd never been good at falling asleep. His mind always went far too quickly to quiet down enough for sleep. And recently it'd been worse, especially since he didn't have a body next to his.

With another person to sleep beside, maybe even in the arms of, Phil could quiet his thoughts a little. He could focus on their heartbeat, their steady breathing, the feeling of their skin pressed against his. Unfortunately, it had been a while since he'd been able to sleep beside the man he loved.

Dan had been giving Phil a lot of space lately, and Phil hated it. He kept counting the things he'd done wrong, trying to figure out how to right them. But he couldn't fix things. Dan would have to come to terms with everything and learn how to deal with it maturely on his own.

That didn't keep Phil from staying up, mind racing with worries about how this could all possibly get better, worries that it was only ever going to get worse.

Phil couldn't lose Dan. Dan was the one person who he felt completely comfortable around- at least he was. Now, just seeing Dan sent a jolt of anxiety through Phil's system, for fear of a fight, a passive aggressive comment, even a break up.

Phil closed his eyes, trying to swallow down the butterflies that started in his stomach and crawled into his throat. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He missed Dan talking him through his anxiety with his gentle touches and soft voice. He missed feeling completely comfortable in his own home. Now, his relationship was the source of most of his anxiety.

Phil felt a few tears leave his eyes as the anxiety in his stomach bubbled up and intensified. He just wanted it to stop.

Phil took a shaky breath. What would Dan say if he were here? The old Dan, the one who always helped him through the anxiety, and chased away the dark butterflies?

Phil realized he wasn't breathing very well, which meant he might be on the precipice of an attack.

Dan would tell him to breathe. Deep breaths, in through the nose, held for a few seconds, and slowly out through the mouth. Dan would ask him to try and relax his shoulders and jaw.

Dan knew all about how to pull Phil out of an imminent panic attack, having had a bit of practice with it and done a lot of research. Why wasn't he here? Phil wanted him here.

Phil choked on another sob. No, Phil. Pull yourself together. He thought. Breathe. In through the nose, slowly, and hold it. He tried to use the breathing exercise Dan had taught him, sitting up to assure his airway was open to get enough air in his anxious state.

Phil took a few more deep breaths, trying not to think about anything other than breathing.

When he had calmed down a bit, he opened his laptop, setting it beside him on the bed and began playing an episode of Friends. If he listened to it as he attempted to fall asleep, he might not think as much.

Thankfully, it worked, and Phil was asleep within the next hour.

~•~•~

Dan's eyes flickered open. He laid in his bedroom, alone. He was glad Phil had taken his suggestion about getting a flat with separate bedrooms when they'd first moved in together, because Dan was certain Phil wouldn't be able to handle sleeping in the same room as Dan currently.

And Dan was guilty, of course he was. He loved Phil so much, and he could see him hurting. Phil put on a brave face, laughing and joking, trying to act normal with Dan, but Dan knew just how bad this entire situation had made his anxiety.

Dan had been familiar with Phil's anxiety disorder for years. He should be good at this by now. But recently, everything he did and said seemed to make it worse. Dan had to force himself to give Phil the space he needed to calm down, as much as he wished he could make it better, he'd fucked up. Phil got anxious around him now, more than he did anyone else. Dan was meant to be the person he wasn't anxious around. So, Dan had to give Phil his space. At least until Dan had worked through all this crap and was able to be a good boyfriend and hang out with Phil without getting upset, and in turn, making his boyfriend anxious.

Dan missed Phil, of course he did. It wasn't as if they didn't hang out together, but not like they used to. A kiss was rare. Cuddles were merely occasional, and even laughing together wasn't as often as it had always been.

Dan finally dragged himself out of bed, finding Phil sipping coffee in the lounge. "Morning," he murmured, attempting a small smile for his boyfriend.

Phil looked up at Dan. "Oh! Morning," he spoke.

"Sleep okay?" Dan asked conversationally.

Phil's mind momentarily flashed back to almost slipping into an overthinking-induced panic the night before, but he pushed the thought aside. "Yeah," he replied with a smile, "You?"

Dan smiled back. "Yeah me too." Dan didn't mention how much he wished Phil had been in bed beside him.

~•~•~

Night fell again, and Phil left to his own room while Dan continued to scroll through the internet. Phil was so tired- anxiety did that too him- but he was unable to just pass out like he'd hoped.

Instead, he lie awake. His thoughts weren't too bad, and he almost began to drift off when suddenly his mind filled with every bad thought he could think, thoughts seemingly coming from nowhere.

Dan's about to go sleep in his own room because he doesn't love you anymore.

Phil's eyes shot open in the dark as he recognized the thought.

What are you gonna do when he leaves you and moves out and your sorry ass is left all alone to fend for yourself? You really think you can meet someone else with the way your mind works? You can't survive without Dan, you're barely doing it now.

Phil couldn't help but listen to the thoughts, taking them in as facts.

You're fucked up. Dan knows it. That's why he doesn't touch you anymore. Doesn't sleep beside you. He's disgusted by you now. He spent years picking you up when you fell apart, but he's tired of it now. You're ruining his life, his career, he doesn't want this. He doesn't want you.

You're going to be all alone. Alone.

Phil didn't realize he'd sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, or that he'd begun hyperventilating, until he got dizzy from lack of breath. Oh God, he couldn't stop his panic now it was too late. He let out a sob.

He wanted Dan. Dan was the only one who was ever able to make it okay. Every attack he'd suffered before meeting Dan he'd had to figure out how to talk himself down from. On the very rare occasion that the attack was a really bad one, he'd even passed out entirely. His parents had always tried to help, but having them around made him freak out more and it'd get worse.

He wanted Dan. Where was Dan? He couldn't do this alone.

Pathetic. You can't do anything on your own. Dan isn't coming, he doesn't care. Better get used to this, Dan's not going to help you again.

Phil felt so stupid there, panicking over not being able to stop panicking. He wasn't even sure what triggered the episode in the first place, what triggered all the thoughts. but he couldn't stop crying, and he couldn't breathe- fuck, fuck, fuck.

He felt nauseous as well as dizzy, still unable to catch his breath. He almost felt like he was going to throw up.

Dan please, please, I'm sorry, please, I need you, please come make it better, I'm sorry for everything I did just- please, please.

He let out another sob. Realistically, how was Dan going to come to his rescue when he had no idea Phil needed his help?

Even if he knew he wouldn't come.

Phil could hear his heart beating in his ears and he just wanted it to stop. Please, please, make it stop.

-

Dan was walking to his room when he paused in the hallway to read whatever notification had popped up on his phone. He looked up when he heard what sounded like a choked off sob and froze. For a moment, he was convinced it was his imagination, but as he walked closer to Phil's room, straining his ears, he heard more quiet sobs and gasps for breaths.

Dan's heart dropped into his stomach. Was Phil panicking?! He opened the door quietly, peeking inside, and, sure enough, Phil was curled up, knees to his chest, sobs forcing their way out between gasps for air.

Dan rushed into the room, impulsively, needing to help his boyfriend. Hopefully he wouldn't make things worse.

Dan didn't touch him, not yet sure if this was a touch-averted panic attack or not. He sat on the bed in front of Phil. Phil was shaking and hyperventilating terribly, and shit- this was a bad one. Dan didn't think he was getting hardly any air into his lungs. He had to get Phil's breathing leveled out or he could pass out. He'd never lost consciousness on Dan before, but Dan wasn't ready to start now.

"Phil," Dan spoke urgently, "Phil, I'm right here, can you hear me?"

Phil could hear Dan, though it sounded like he was underwater. Dan was here? Phil gasped in a breath. "D-d-d-" he stuttered, reaching to touch Dan, to assure he wasn't dreaming this up.

Dan took his shaking, outstretched, hand, squeezing it. "Yeah. Yeah, love, I'm right here, sh-sh-shhh. It's okay, it's gonna be okay. Can you give me a number? How bad is this one?" Dan asked, attempting to remain calm, even though his own heart was beating frantically. It'd been a while since he'd talked Phil through one of these and, in his own mild panic, all the information he knew about them almost left his mind.

Phil let go of Dan's hand and held up eight shaking fingers. His breathing was still short, fast, and shallow, and he felt dizzy.

Dan bit his lip, guessing that Phil's anxiety over the past few weeks had built up to this. Remain calm, he reminded himself. "Okay, love. I know you're scared right now, but you have to breathe for me. It's all gonna be okay. I'm here. We've done this before, yeah? We're gonna be okay."

If Phil's mind had been working properly he would've wondered what Dan meant by "we," but he could hardly hear Dan. He just knew that Dan was going to coach him through. Phil was thanking whatever powers that be, because a second ago he thought he was dying, and he still felt like he was dying, but Dan was here.

Dan grabbed both of Phil's shaking hands, squeezing them tightly, trying to ground Phil. "You know how to do this, baby, just try to breath in slowly, hold it for a few seconds and breathe out slowly," Dan spoke, practically begging Phil.

Phil shakily breathed in, but was unable to hold it, just breathing out and hyperventilating again.

They continued on like this for a moment, Phil unable to do as Dan told him and breaking into breathless sobs that left him desperate for air.

"Hey." Dan placed Phil's hand on his own chest, focusing on breathing deeply. "Match my breathing. C'mon." Phil was really having a rough one, and Dan glanced down at his phone, ready to call a hospital if Phil didn't start breathing properly soon. Phil hadn't had anything near an eight in forever.

Phil tried to place his focus on Dan's steady breathing, and do as he was doing, breathing in as slow as he could manage, holding it for a few seconds, and letting it out of barely parted lips. The fog lifted a little and he began to remember how to do this. He took another breath, feeling his lungs actually fill, held it a moment, and breathed out. Finally air was getting to his brain, and the dizziness began to fade a little.

Dan sighed in relief. "That's it. That's it, love. You're gonna be just fine."

Phil took a couple more deep breaths with Dan, as Dan held his hand to Dan's chest.

"D-Dan," He attempted to speak, "'M s-sor-rry." His voice was as shaky as his body still was.

Dan felt tears collect in his eyes as he stared at Phil. "Oh, love, don't be sorry, please don't feel sorry. It's okay. You've done nothing wrong."

Phil wanted to argue, but he was so exhausted. He let out a pitiful sob. He was still shaking quite a lot, but he knew from past experience it was only because of all the adrenaline that had just rushed through him. It would take a while for his body to settle.

"Please don't l-leave me," Phil requested weakly, well aware of how pathetic he sounded. He hoped Dan guessed that, in saying that, Phil didn't just mean tonight.

Dan brought Phil's shaky hand to his lips, before meeting Phil's tear-filled, eyes. "Phil, I could never leave you. I love you," he spoke, as sincere as he could make it. Phil had to believe him. Dan didn't know what he'd do if he didn't.

Phil let out another sob. "I-" he sniffled, "I love you," he replied, falling against Dan, burying his face in Dan's shoulder as he continued to sob, residual fear hanging on.

"Shh, shh, shh," Dan murmured, wrapping his arms around Phil. "Breathe, love, it's all okay now. You're okay."

Phil clung to Dan as he tried again to steady his breathing. He sniffled. "M'so tired, Dan," he whimpered.

Dan rubbed his back before gently pulling away. "I know," he murmured, gently, "C'mon, lay down with me. I'll stay here, is that what you want?"

Phil nodded. "Please," he whimpered.

"Shhh, c'mon, down we go, love." Dan helped Phil down onto his side, pulling the duvet over them both.

Phil shuffled up as close as he could get to Dan, face in Dan's chest, moved down the bed more than Dan so he could feel shorter for once. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil's back. Phil was still shaking pretty bad, but he was breathing properly.

"I was scared you wouldn't come. I thought I was going to die," Phil spoke quietly, voice shaking, but sobs calmed, "I mean I know that's stupid, but I felt like I- like I was going to."

Dan squeezed his eyes shut, holding Phil against himself. "I'll always come," he promised, "I'll always come when you need me, and I'll never let anything happen to you." He stroked Phil's back. "I'm sorry you had to feel like that. But you're okay now. I've got you, and you're okay. Just get some sleep, darling," Dan murmured, "I'll be right here."

~•~•~

In the morning, Dan woke up first, understandably. Phil must've been completely worn out after his episode. Dan had had one or two panic attacks in his life, and neither were as bad as Phil's last night, but he knew how exhausting just those were.

Phil was still wrapped in Dan's arms, and Dan's muscles ached from lack of movement all night, but he didn't mind.

Dan and Phil had to talk. Dan had to know what had brought that on. He was certain it was something Dan had done, and he needed to know how to fix it. He couldn't handle being the cause of Phil's anxiety anymore. And causing him a full-blown panic attack was not okay.

Phil sleepily blinked his eyes open, smiling when he felt the arms around him. He looked up to see Dan's face, awake as well. Anxiety made itself quietly known in Phil's stomach. Would Dan be upset that they were sharing a bed?

"Hey, love," Dan murmured softly, brushing the messy hair from Phil's face. "You feeling okay?"

The nerves in Phil's stomach dissipated at the concern in Dan's voice. Right. Last night. Dan had been just like he always was, gentle and calm, talking Phil through it.

"Mhmm," Phil replied, smiling a little. He leaned in, face inching closer to Dan's. Dan met him in the middle, kissing him gently, hand moving through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Phil," Dan breathed when they pulled back, "I'm sorry, I should've been there before you could even work yourself into a panic. It was about me, wasn't it? You were thinking about us?"

Phil looked down. "It's not your fault, Dan. I just- when it's late I let all the bad thoughts come and convince me of all these bad things. I just, I'm messed up, and I don't want you to realize it and leave. I'm weighing you down. You have to pick me up off the ground all the time and you can't even vent about your own issues without me freaking out."

"It is my fault, okay? I know how your brain works, love, and I'm still here. I'll talk you through any anxiety you need me to. I love you, and that means I'm there for you. No matter what. I just got so involved in my own crap I stopped paying enough attention, I thought you needed space. None of this is your fault, and I would never think of leaving. You're the only one I could ever imagine being with," Dan promised.

Phil looked down. "Maybe I should go back to taking medication and getting therapy and stuff..." Phil started, "I don't want your life to revolve around worrying about me, Dan. You're only 21 and you have to take care of me like I'm some kid."

"I really don't mind making sure you're comfortable. And needing a little help is nothing to be ashamed of. When it comes to us, I'm sure you help me the same, if not more. But, if you want to, we can look into medication. That might make this all more manageable. But until then, please just be open with me. Tell me when you're having a bad day, or when something I do makes you anxious. I'll try and be open too, and talk rather than letting my anger get the best of me, okay?" Dan bargained.

Phil smiled. "When'd you get to be so smart?" he asked, pushing Dan's hair aside.

Dan smiled back. "I'd say it's about time."

"Okay then. I love you. You love me. We're gonna communicate more. This will be okay, yeah?" Phil spoke.

"Yeah. This'll be okay."

And it was. For the most part. Dan and Phil were happy, close, comfortable, behind locked doors. In the public eye, they were friends and nothing more, but Phil didn't mind. He wasn't sure he could handle the pressure and anxiety of so many eyes on them, anyways. Phil had a few lesser episodes, but Dan was more observant, usually able to see it coming, and able to talk Phil through it. In return, Phil did his best to listen to Dan's concerns and reassure him when he needed it. They were back on the path to function. And even when they had their little tiffs, Phil was able to tell those anxiety induced thoughts to fuck off by wandering into Dan's arms and admitting his anxiety. No matter how pissed Dan seemed, he always reassured his boyfriend, terrified to see the man he loved panic the way he had before.

Things could only get better from here.

If you liked this, you might like this

Read My Other Fics

thanks <3

[sickficlover]

Sick Yuuri/Viktor request

The tumblr app ate an ask… again 😑… Anyway, @dontfeelsogood requested a fic with both Yuuri and Viktor sick and taking care of each other. I hope could do them justice, it was a lot of fun to write.

Warning: Descriptions of vomiting below the cut!

***

Yuuri woke up feeling absolutely horrible. His head throbbed, his stomach was in knots and despite the covers, that should have been heated up by his body over the night, he was shivering. He was definitely sick. But he had a competition in a week from now, so there was no way he could miss out on training.

The black haired skater groaned and tried to sit up, only to be met with a horrible spell of dizziness. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding his head and waited for the world to stop spinning. When he could see more or less straight, he took his glasses from the night table, put them on and got up carefully.

He got dressed and went down for a small breakfast, a bowl of rice with some egg, and tried to ignore the angry churning of his stomach. His mother told him, that Viktor had already left, so he took his jacket immediately after finishing, put on his shoes and went after his coach.

When he stepped outside, he couldn’t suppress a shiver going down his spine. Despite the sun shining it felt terribly cold to him. Well, he would get warmer when he started to jog.

Halfway to the ice rink, ‘though, Yuuri had to stop. His head was spinning and his stomach really hurting now from all the jostling. He took a deep breath to calm down and then continued at a slower pace. He desperately tried not to think about what skating would do to him in that state.

When he finally arrived at the rink, Viktor was already there, standing in the middle of the ice with a pensive expression on his face. He turned around when he heard the door and a smile crossed his face when he saw his boyfriend.

“Yuuri, finally! I already thought you wouldn’t grace me with your presence today!” he exclaimed cheerfully. Yuuri just managed a weak smile in response. That seemed to catch Viktor’s attention. He skated closer to his protégé and gave him a once over with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t bother putting on your skates. You’re going back home”, he then announced in a stern voice.

“Wha—but I have to practice for the competition next week!” Yuuri started to protest. “I’m still not good enough at the quads in the second half and – “

“You’re pale, tired looking, shivering and swaying on your feet”, Viktor listed, crossing his arms. “You’re clearly sick, so there’s no way I can let you skate today, not as your coach and definitely not as your boyfriend!”

Yuuri let out a defeated sigh and slumped down on one of the benches. He knew that there was no arguing with Viktor now, and to be honest he was relieved that he didn’t have to train. He probably would have passed out or thrown up on the ice. Or both. And he sure as hell didn’t want that.

He closed his eyes exhaustedly, only to startle and open them again when something cool was pressed against his forehead.

“You definitely have a fever,” Viktor stated and drew his hand back again and sat down next to him. “Anything else wrong?”

Yuuri shivered. “Head hurt’s. Stomach too…” he mumbled and leaned against his boyfriend, resting his head on the other’s shoulder. “ ‘n feel dizzy…”

“Do you think you’re going to be sick?” Viktor asked concerned. Yuuri shrugged. He really wasn’t sure, his stomach felt really weird.

“God, how did you even make it here, darling?” the silver haired man sighed and ran his hand through his boyfriend’s hair. Yuuri just shrugged again and moved closer to Viktor.

“I’ll call your father to have him come and pick us up with the car,” the Russian decided. Yuuri nodded. That sounded like a very good idea.

***

Maybe Yuuri had dozed off, because it felt like only a few seconds until Viktor nudged him gently and told him that his father had arrived.

He let himself be helped to the car by his boyfriend and leant back into the seat with a sigh. That was indeed much better than walking.

That feeling didn’t last ‘though. As soon as the car started, he started to feel incredibly nauseous. He bent forward in his seat, wrapped his arms around his stomach, closed his eyes and groaned.

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Viktor asked next to him and rested a hand on his back. The younger skater didn’t dare to move in order to answer and instead concentrated on not puking into his father’s car, while Viktor rubbed his back silently.

The ride back to Yuutopia was really short, but for Yuuri it felt like an eternity. When they finally pulled up in front of the house he was swallowing convulsively, his mouth producing far too much saliva.

Viktor helped him out of the car.

“Let’s get you to bed, love,” he said, brow creased in concern. But Yuuri just shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand. Viktor understood.

“Bathroom then,” he said and gently guided the raven upstairs.

As soon as Yuuri was kneeling in front of the toilet, he bent over the bowl, arms curled around his midsection and let out a week cough, spitting up some excess saliva. He panted for a few moments before he suddenly lurched forward with an unproductive heave, soon followed by another. He felt incredibly nauseous now, but he just couldn’t get anything up.

“Shh,” Viktor said soothingly next to him, rubbing his back again. “It’s going to be fine, love. You’ll feel better once you get it all up.”

Yuri leaned over further and gagged towards the water. Then suddenly his whole body shuddered and he finally brought up a stream of fluids and semi-digested breakfast.

“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor sighed sympathetically. Yuuri wanted to reassure him that he was fine, but another wave of vomit cut him off. Several painful heaves later his stomach was finally emptyan he fell back against his boyfriend, panting softly.

He didn’t feel better at all, on the contrary. His stomach was now sore and cramping, his head throbbed from the exertion, his throat burned from the bile and he felt incredibly cold. He closed his eyes and felt tears escaping his lids.

Viktor shifted him until he was resting against the older man’s chest, a gentle thumb wiping down his cheek.

“Shh, hey, none of that,” Viktor said softly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Yuuri complied wordlessly and let his boyfriend lead him to his bedroom where he was carefully undressed and put under the covers.

“I’ll be right back”, Viktor said and left the room. Yuuri closed his eyes and dozed off, only to be awoken by a hand stroking his hair.

“Hey,” Viktor whispered. “You can sleep in a minute, but I want to take your temperature first, okay?”

“ ‘mkay”, Yuuri croaked in response and let the thermometer be shoved under his tongue.

“That’s pretty high, darling”, Viktor said after looking at the display frowning. “Think you can handle some medicine?” The younger man nodded hesitantly, ‘though he didn’t quite trust his stomach yet.

But he let himself be helped to sit up and obediently took a pill and a glass of water from Viktor, swallowing the pill and drinking about half of the water. Then he fell back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. Almost immediately he drifted off into unconsciousness.

***

Viktor sat next to Yuuri’s bed and watched his boyfriend sleep. He was concerned by how fast the others condition had deteriorated. Lying in his bed now, the raven looked incredibly sick, face pale save for two angry red spots on his cheeks, hair matted to his sweaty forehead. It broke the Russian’s heart to see him in this state.

Despite the medicine Yuuri didn’t sleep peacefully, brow creasing and eyes darting around under the lids.

He had only slept for an hour and some when his eyes suddenly shot open and he rolled to his side gagging. Viktor acted as fast as he could, getting the bowl he had brought with him earlier under the sick skater’s chin just in time for all the water to spill back out of him.

Viktor winced and rubbed his boyfriends back, trying to ignore the sick feeling that started to spread in his own stomach. After a few moments Yuuri started dry heaving before falling back and looking at Viktor with glazed over eyes.

“Here, sweetheart, you should try to drink something”, Viktor said and took the glass of water from the night stand. “We don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

Yuuri just nodded and managed to take a few sips before drifting off again.

The following hours until evening were a constant cycle of Yuuri waking up, being sick into the bowl, drinking some water, occasionally taking some more medicine and going back to an unsettled sleep. Viktor did his best, cleaning out the bowl, getting more water, taking his boyfriend’s temperature and wiping his forehead with a cool cloth from time to time.

It was only when Yuuri’s mother came to ask if he wanted any dinner, that he noticed that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He felt a little sick himself, from watching Yuuri throw up so often or from hunger he couldn’t say, so he smiled and nodded. It couldn’t really hurt, could it? And in addition to that he probably needed energy for the night.

He decided to eat downstairs, in order not to upset Yuuri’s stomach again with the smell of food. It only took him twenty minutes to finish a bowl of rice and some vegetables, but he was really anxious when he went back up, in fear of Yuuri having woken up and finding himself all alone.

To his relief Yuuri was still sleeping when he entered the room. Good. Viktor resumed his place next to the bed, took up a book and tried to pass his time a little.

***

To call the night rough would have been an understatement. Yuuri’s temperature spiked at around half past eleven, he couldn’t keep anything down for more than a few moments and was close to delirious.

Viktor had his hands full with caring for him, checking his temperature every thirty minutes, patting his head to calm him down when he woke up all disoriented and tried to bring his temperature down.

At around three in the morning Yuuri’s temperature was down to a manageable level and he finally managed to fall into a more peaceful slumber. At this point, Viktor himself was beyond exhausted, he shivered, his circulation being down from fatigue.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he woke up at around six in the morning, half lying on Yuuri’s bed, with his head on his crossed arms. His head felt heavy and for a moment he considered just going back to sleep as he was, when suddenly he felt his stomach do a flip.

He shot into a sitting position, which made his stomach lurch painfully. This was more than mere queasiness. He felt really sick and he was definitely going to throw up. He cupped his mouth in his hand and debated what to do.

The bowl Yuuri had thrown up into all night was still sitting next to the bed, but that would definitely wake his boyfriend up. Bathroom then.

Viktor stood up and made his way to the door, trying to ignore the black spots dancing around in front of his eyes. Outside the room he stopped for a moment, taking deep breaths in order to calm his stomach at least a little, only to gag into his hand involuntarily. He cursed under his breath and hurried to the bathroom as fast as he could, not wanting to soil his hosts’ hallway.

Once he was there, he didn’t even bother to turn the light on, just collapsed to his knees in front of the toilet, pushing the lid up and gripping the rim of the bowl with both hands. Almost immediately his whole body lurched and a stream of bile and the dinner he had eaten the night before spilled out of him.

The bile burned terribly, throwing him into a coughing fit over the toilet. He tried to keep it as quiet as possible but another violent heave cut into his efforts. He brought up several more mouths full of vomit before he got a short reprieve, staying panting over the bowl, when suddenly the light went on.

“Vitya?”

He shot around which sent a sharp pain through his stomach, making him gasp.

“Ah… Yuuri, what are you doing here? Did I wake you?” he asked, trying to mask the pain.

His boyfriend was standing in the door, wrapped in a blanket, his hair ruffled from sleeping. He still looked too pale, but his eyes were more focused than they had been the day before and currently directed at a certain silver haired Russian with a frown.

“You should go to bed, you’re still si—ugh!” Viktor tried to say, but was cut off by another gag that had him jerk over the toilet and bring up more of his stomach contents. Yuuri was by his side in a split second, rubbing his back as Viktor had done for him almost all night.

“Shit, Vitya! Did you catch it from me?” he inquired, sounding guilty. Viktor shook his head.

“Don’ think so,” he whispered. “Probably caught it wherever you got it…” He coughed up another mouth full of bile, his stomach now being mostly empty.

“Yuuri, y-you really should go back to bed,” he croaked, whole body shaking. “You’re still s-sick…”

The raven haired man just shook his head, rubbing his boyfriend’s back a little more firmly.

“I’m better,” he said sternly, even ‘though he was clearly extremely exhausted and probably still had a fever. “You took good care of me, now it’s my turn to look after you.”

Viktor shook his head. He felt like shit and all he wanted was sleep, but he still worried over his boyfriend.

“Go b-back to bed! You have a competition next week!” he demanded again, trying to sound like Yakov when his old coach put his foot down, but the dry heave that followed immediately afterwards kind of destroyed the effect. Yuuri shook his head again, but then seemed to pause and think before a smile spread over his pale features.

“I’ll go back to bed if you come with me, Vitya!” he announced. Viktor couldn’t help but chuckle weakly.

“I don’t think I’m i-in the m-mood for… k-katsudon right now,” he croaked. A light red hue spread painted Yuuri’s face that was definitely not from the fever.

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” he protested embarrassed. Viktor sighed and let his head drop to the cool toilet rim.

“I know, sweetheart”, he whispered. Then he reached up to flush the toilet and let himself be helped back to Yuuri’s room where the two of them climbed back into the bed, Yuuri being the big spoon for once. He gently massaged Viktor’s sore and cramping stomach while the older man gradually fell asleep.

Just before he drifted off, he managed a small “I love you, Yuuri”.

He was rewarded with a fond “I love you too, Vitya,” then he fell asleep.

[kaylainbloom]

An IUD-- what to “expect”

So I am a 20 year old female who has never had children before and I wanted to get on birth control. I did a whole lot of research, went to various GYNs, and weighed my options. I get horrible cramps, like keep you in bed, sweating, light headed, blackout, throw up cramps. In 2016, for the first time ever, my cramps were getting better (but that might also be because I was pumping myself full of tylenol and aleve). I was sick and tired of taking medication that I knew we killing my liver and kidneys, I also wised up and realized a 20-year-old sexually active woman should be on birth control.

After my search for birth control, I realized that an IUD would be my best option. I know I’m forgetful so the pill was out, I also have problems with fibroadenomas and hormones, so anything with estrogen was out. My doctors and I came to the decision that an IUD was best for me. I just had to choose between Mirena, Paraguard or Skyla.

All IUDs are recommended for women who have had a child. as stated before I DO NOT.

Mirena is a small, flexible, T-shaped device that is implanted in the uterus. Mirena uses levonorgesterel– a progestin birth control hormone–and slowly releases a small amount into the uterus over time. Because it releases hormones directly into the uterus, it releases a lower level of hormones into the body than oral contraceptive pills. The IUD slows or stops the movement of the sperm and egg by changing cervical mucus, fallopian tubes and the uterine lining. It takes about 7 days for the hormonal IUD to start working, and it remains effective for 5 to 7 years. Mirena is known to lessen periods to the point that it could completely go away.

My other option was a Paraguard. Paragard is also a type of IUD but it is copper and does not have any hormones. It works because it cuts off sperms access to your eggs. Periods tend to worsen with a Paraguard IUD.

My last choice was Skyla. Like Mirena, Skyla releases progestin into the body. Unlike Mirena it is only good for 3 years. As with Mirena, you might experience some changes in your period, including having no period at all but unlike Mirena, some women experience increased menstrual bleeding and discomfort.

*all of the IUD come with side effects such as ovarian cysts, acne, or breast tenderness, or have abdominal or pelvic pain, allergic reaction and a depressed mood that I encourage you to look upon your own*

Because of my already pre-existing cramps, I decided to go with Mirena. As I stated before IUDs are recommended for women who have had a child, this is due to the fact that the device is implanted in the uterus. If you’ve never had a child before your cervix is pretty much completely shut, there are instances of doctors not being able to insert the IUD because they cannot get the cervix open which is an extremely painful process.

I searched the deeps corners of the internet at 2am the day before my procedure and found all these horror stories of terrible pain and cramping for months at a time (you can look these up on your own but I don’t recommend it). I almost backed out. I asked my friends about their experiences because I figured people only went on the internet to tell the horrible ones, and the anxious person I am I just had to know if the procedure and the recovery was as bad as everyone was saying. This is what they had to say:

“Lmao no lie it was shitty afterwards I was spotting like brown stuff for legit 2 months and was crampy, I lived on aleeve. But now? Bitch. Whos a period? I DONT know her. Cramps? Mood swings? Can’t relate. It’s not bad it hurts a little but it’ll be over really quickly” (mirena)

“The insertion was rough honestly, make sure you have a ride back cuz I thought I could walk back from the health center but I couldnt, it feels like intense period cramping. Then for a while afterwards your body goes through trying to reject it since its a foreign object in your body. So your first period after getting it is going to be terrible Im not gonna lie, i deadass thought I needed an ambulance lol and you're gonna spot on and off for a while until the IUD makes a home in your uterus. I wont lie its rough for the first few months until your body gets used to it so be prepared but honestly its the best thing I did. I got the paraguard so its hormone free. I was on birth control pills for so long and i really didnt react well to the hormones. When it comes to contraception I can 100% say the IUD is your best bet. 7-10 years baby free, you can get it taken out whenever you want. Although I will say, your partners may feel the strings that hang from the IUD from certain angels, but its a minor inconvenience compared to a baby LOL” (paraguard)

“so this is actually funny because I’ve unfortunately had nothing but problems since i’ve gotten the IUD. i first got it in December 2015 and i had the worst cramps of my life for a few weeks after and my period of super long lasting like 2-3 weeks. then i went for my 3 month check up and found out my body was rejecting the IUD so i got another put in and it just got worse. i started having ridiculously heavy periods and there were blood clots coming out. i thought i had uterine fibroids or cysts so i went to get an ultrasound and it turns out my body is rejecting the IUD again so i’m getting it removed monday because i’m just not eligible for it, unfortunately, i’m so upset about it because i really wanted it to work and i have friends that love it and have no complaints and it’s just so convenient cause you literally never worry about being pregnant”

“DONT WORRY! getting an IUD was literally the best decision i’ve made. Tthe forums will totally freak you out. and it’s definitely painful, but it just feels like a really bad period cramp that lasts like 30 seconds. i had cramps for at most two weeks after. and they weren’t constant just occasional. and i had like blood spotting for a little more than a month. of course it’s different for everyone! the forums scared me too but i personally feel it was worth it and i’ve had it for a little over 6 months now.”

Admittedly, even though there was some horror mixed in, this felt REAL. So I decided to go to my appointment. If you asked me now, id say it was a quick process, two sharp burst of pain then you’re done. Im on day 3 and I only had cramps for the first half an hour after but I took a tylenol-codiene leftover from a previous surgery before hand and Ive been taking aleve ever since. But when I got out of the procedure heres what I texted my boyfriend: That was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. So first they had to measure and dilate my cervix and apparently my cervix is small and short so when they opened it i like yelled cuz that shit hurt and that was the first pain and there was blood so she couldn’t see so it took longer then they went to put it in and before it was like cramping then it ended. But when they put this other thing idk what it was I think it was a way for them to slide the IUD in? That hurt so bad I screamed and tears came to my eyes. She said that should be the worst of it because putting in the IUD shouldn’t hurt more because everything was in place so if I could handle that I could handle the IUD. Then she put it in… I screamed and that shit felt like cramping mixed with a fucking knife and there was bleeding so they had to apply pressure and that shit hurt. So like once they were done it was like a dull constant pain. I laid there for a second and then i got dressed. After i got dressed i started shaking and sweating and i fell on the floor and they had to put me in the chair and took my blood pressure and it spiked. Apparently I went into shock. Im in the car rn the codeine finally kicked in but I’m still nauseous and shaky.”

I can’t remember pain, but I dealt with it, the whole procedure was less than 5 minutes and within a half an hour I was feeling better. My vagina was swollen that night but today its fine. I honestly think it was worth it. If the healing process goes well I’ll be ecstatic. Its only day 3 so I don’t want to get ahead of myself but everyone said that this would be the worst time, for me it feels fine. It might be because Im on pain killers but I didnt expect to be this good. I have little to no pain, some spotting but thats to be expected this first month. Im already happy with my decision and I will keep you updated (obviously much shorter lol) on how the healing process is going! Lemme know if y’all have any questions!