#maybe it's about my mental health? because it's awful at the moment and yet i'm trying to ignore it and get on with life

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you and Skye try to relearn how to be friends again, you realise it’s harder than you thought.

warning/s: mentions of injury, substance abuse, poor mental health and basically everything Skye goes through oof.

author's note: here’s part 2! so sorry it was delayed, i’ve been stuffed with cold for the past few days so didn’t have chance to share it. Hope this makes up for it anyway :)

"...and I'm just outside your building now," I said to Skye over the phone, lingering outside.

"I was just about to call," she said in a rushed voice, sounding apologetic. "I'm running late, but I'm almost there. Give or take ten minutes. You can head straight up. The doorman knows to let you in and the spare key is in the same place as always."

I hesitated at her response.

It wasn't a big deal, I'd been to her apartment many times, but it had also been a year since I'd last been and it felt strange to go up alone. Especially because I was just supposed to be meeting her to go out, not actually going inside.

"Oh, I can just wait outside, it's okay," I said, maybe a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, it's fine, you head up, I'll be with you soon," she assured me, before I heard a sound in the background. "I gotta go. See you in ten!"

I chewed my lip before putting my phone away and heading straight inside. As Skye said, the doorman recognised me and let me straight up, and it felt odd. The last time I'd been in the lift, I was crying on the way down from that awful argument between Skye and I. I hadn't been back since – I'd had no need to. But now...

It wasn't the same, I had to remind myself of that. She wasn't the same. None of this was.

Over the past few weeks, we'd somewhat returned to how things used to be, but it was all baby steps. Being each other's friend was second nature, and yet moments like this sometimes had me stumbling in the dark.

I found her door at the end of the hall, digging out the spare key from behind the framed painting next to it. A stupid place to keep it I'd always thought, but the whole place was guarded anyway so it didn't matter.

After opening the door, I returned the key to its spot before letting myself in. Everything looked the same as I last remembered it, and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I'd missed it. I still remembered when she bought it and moved in, after her career picked up overnight. We'd had countless movie nights here, sleepovers that lasted days sometimes, and it just brought back so many memories. Good, as well as bad, but I tried not to focus on the latter.

I began to walk around aimlessly, waiting for her to return, eyeing the cabinet full of awards, the framed albums, admiring the penthouse view from her living room, and then I came across some framed photos hung on the wall. Some were of her and her mum when she was a kid, others were as she grew up, and then I spotted a familiar one.

It was a photo of Skye performing her first ever single on her first ever TV appearance years ago, and it was a photo taken by me, one of my first professional gigs as a photographer. A small smile tugged at my lips, realising she hadn't taken it down. I was touched that she kept it.

The door opening made me glance away and see Skye rushing in, looking a bit dishevelled. When she spotted me, she smiled with relief.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to run late," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"It's fine," I said dismissively, before joking, "You know, you're a little too trustworthy. It's been a year. I totally could have come up here and, like, I don't know, robbed you or something. Sold your shit on eBay."

She tossed her bag to the couch as she laughed quietly, quirking a brow. "Oh, really? A year and you've suddenly turned into a criminal?"

"I could've."

"What a personality change."

I laughed as she stopped by my side, nudging me in the arm slightly, before her gaze fell to the photos hung on the wall.

"Ah, going through memory lane, I see," she teased lightheartedly.

I glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's cute that you've still got it. Even if it is a terrible photo."

"It's not," she said with a chuckle, looking at it with pride. "It's a two in one, I had to keep it. My first TV appearance and the day I met you. It just makes it extra special that you took the photo."  

My cheeks grew warm at her words, and I found myself staring at her profile as she smiled reminiscently at the photo. We'd come so far since then and yet I still did a double take whenever I looked to her. Maybe some things hadn't changed...

"I'm just gonna change my clothes and then we can head out," she said after a moment. "Won't be long."

"It's cool, take your time," I said with a nod, watching as she went to her room, before looking back to the photo and finding myself smiling all over again.

—

Becoming friends with Skye again made it easy to remember all the best parts of having a friendship with her, so much that I almost forgot what led to everything being ruined in the first place.

Of course there was the substance abuse, but the reason for that was the anxieties and stresses that came with being one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And it definitely didn't help that Skye never had a lot of support from her team, who only ever saw her as a commodity. Clearly that hadn't changed.

I'd just finished some work one morning and had plans to hang out with Skye after, maybe catch a movie or something as she had the day off, we hadn't really decided. But when I called her, she answered groggily.

"Hey, Skye, you good?" I asked jokingly.

She made a sound like a yawn before humming. "Yes, sorry, I was just napping. Just been tired."

"Oh, I was calling to say I'm free now, but we can rearrange if–"

"No, no, I want to see you," she cut me off with assurance, forcing herself to sound more lively. "A movie, right? Or lunch?"

I tried not to snicker. "Skye, it's your day off and you sound exhausted. It's alright."

"I'm fine, honest," she said confidently, or an attempt at it. "Please, I was looking forward to seeing you."

I sighed, debating whether or not to listen to her. Then, I thought of a solution. "How about we stay in? I can come to yours and we can watch a movie there?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she said with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll get the blankets warmed up in the dryer, ready for your arrival."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds good. I'll bring some snacks and be over soon."

And just like that, we both kept to our word and got comfortable on her couch barely half an hour later. Snacks were laid out on the coffee table whilst two fluffy blankets covered us completely. Still, we leaned against each other for warmth.

Skye was definitely burnt out, her general enthusiasm diminished temporarily and her movements sluggish, but she was smiling all the same as she spent time with me. I knew she meant it, but it still worried me that she wasn't getting enough time to simply rest.

"How's tour stuff going?" I asked as she loaded up a film on Netflix.

She shrugged as she focused on the task at hand. "Alright. Been busy. You know how it can get."

I glanced at her. "I do."

She must have noticed my staring as she stopped what she was doing and looked over at me with an amused smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, looking to the TV. "Just remember that you can take a break if you need to. It's important or you'll risk burning out."

She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder and playing with the blanket mindlessly. "I know. I am."

"Enough breaks," I clarified, watching her hands play with it. "I mean, your team are supportive, I'm sure, but they don't always know what's best for you."

She snorted with amusement, glancing up at me. "And you do?"

I met her gaze, half playful and half serious. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll always be an advocate of you taking a freakin' break."

She suppressed a smile as she nudged me appreciatively. "You're right. I will. I guess I've just been busy making sure everything is perfect. It has to be, you know? Especially after everything."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "I get it. Just... take care of yourself. Please."

She nodded, though sunk further into the couch as she laced her hands around my arm to get comfortable, almost like she was ending the conversation without saying so. I took the hint and looked back to the screen.

"Picked a film yet?" I asked.

"Almost."

—

Despite how easy it was to fall back into everything with Skye, there were still topics we didn't discuss. Like we never brought up our friendship-ending argument again, or her time in rehab, and she never talked about the accident. It wasn't that I didn't leave that space open for her to discuss, but it was definitely her way of keeping that separate by not bringing it up. And naturally, I didn't want to force her to relive it by bringing it up either.

But not talking about it meant I didn't always know how to help her.

We were walking around a park near her apartment one evening, enjoying a stroll at first, but then we started to mess around on some of the playing equipment since the place was deserted.

"You really think you can clear it in ten seconds?" I asked her with a laugh as she looked up at the monkey bars.

"I do, yeah," she said, mirroring my laughter as she glanced at me. "You just watch. Go on. Grab your phone. Timer at the ready please."

Curious, I pulled out my phone and stepped back, finger hovering over the timer. "Ready when you are, idiot."

She grinned before standing beneath the monkey bars. Looking up at them, she took a deep breath, about to jump up, but I intentionally interrupted to throw her off.

"You sure you don't wanna stretch first?"

She jumped and glared at me playfully. "Shut up. Just get ready."

I laughed and waited patiently, watching as she readied herself once more. And then she jumped up to grab the bars and I started the timer.

She managed to move down three bars before faltering at the fourth one and then letting go all of a sudden. My eyes widened when she landed on the tarmac with a sharp gasp, and I forgot all about the stupid timer as I rushed to check on her.

"Shit, Skye, you okay?" I asked quickly, kneeling down beside her.

Her face contorted in pain as her hand clutched her back. She was leaning on her elbow, clearly hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered quickly, though she winced and her eyes were squeezing shut to suppress the pain.

I noticed she was holding her back – not really putting together that it was from her existing back pain from the accident – and tried to help by reaching for her jacket to see if she'd hurt it from the fall.

"No!" she suddenly shouted when she saw me attempting to touch her, and I jumped.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," I apologised, not wanting to overwhelm or upset her anymore than she already was.

I moved my hand back, but she grabbed it and squeezed gently before I could, an attempt at an apology for her outburst. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she breathed out the pain, and I didn't say anything more as I held her hand, waiting patiently. Though my heart was clenching with concern the longer she took.

"It hurts sometimes," she finally spoke, avoiding my eyes, "from the accident. That's all."

When I realised it was much more than just falling from the monkey bars, I felt stupid and spoke without thinking. "Do you have medicine?"

She tensed her jaw as she glanced at me.

"Stupid question, sorry," I realised, grimacing.

She let go of my hand and shook her head, expression softening. "No, it wasn't."

Something was bothering her, more than the pain, but now wasn't the time to ask, so I settled on helping her stand up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," I said carefully. "It's getting late anyway."

She nodded, still avoiding my eyes, and we both walked back to her apartment in an awkward silence. A million things were running through my mind, mostly out of concern for Skye, and acknowledging my utter stupidity. For once, I couldn't read her.

When we reached the lobby inside, we paused by the lift.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to dial down my worry for her sake.

"Yes, sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine," I assured her, eyes scanning her expression as she purposely looked at my shirt and not me. "I didn't mean to overstep before. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She shook her head, eyes flickering to mine briefly, sad, before looking down to her shoes. "You didn't. I just–"

She paused, a moment too long, enough to make me wonder what had her so uneasy.

"It's not pretty," she finally spoke, quieter than usual. "The... the scar. It's..."

"You don't need to explain," I said, when she didn't speak anymore, though my heart ached with concern, soon realising her uneasiness was embarrassment. An unnecessary embarrassment at that, as if I'd care about a scar when she was still here, alive.

I gave her a moment, hoping she'd say something more, but she didn't.

"Will you be okay?" I asked worriedly, not wanting to leave her tonight if her back was flaring up.

She nodded. "Yeah."

I nodded too, though was unsure how to say my goodbyes. Usually I'd go in for a hug, but she was already uncomfortable with me touching her before and the last thing I wanted was to do that again.

But then she finally looked up, eyes meeting mine gratefully, before she hugged me.

"Thanks for not thinking I'm weird," she mumbled into my shoulder, arms wrapped around them tightly.

I returned the hug gently. "I could never."

She didn't let go straight away and neither did I, not until she made the first move since clearly she needed this hug more than I did.

Finally, she pulled apart and offered me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," I said, returning her smile, before reluctantly leaving her.

—

It was the first time we'd even come close to talking about the accident and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. She wasn't opening up and I wondered if she felt like she couldn't. But maybe that incident was the key, because things changed soon after.

About a week later, I was fast asleep when I woke up to my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Confused, I cracked an eye open, wondering who could be calling in the middle of the night, but then the vibrating stopped. I considered if I cared that much, before deciding it could've been an emergency and checking who it was.

When I saw Skye's name, I woke up a little more, overcome with concern since she'd never called like this before. Immediately, I rang her back. It took two rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she answered with confusion.

Still half asleep, I answered groggily, "Why are you confused? You just called me."

She sighed. "I did. Sorry. I cut it off when I realised."

She sounded different, her voice hoarse.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry, I just–" She tutted at herself. "It's late, Y/N, go back to sleep."

Even half conscious, I knew she wasn't okay. "Skye."

It went quiet, but she gave in, to my relief. "I had a bad dream," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted to distract myself. I didn't mean to wake you."

I frowned to myself. "Are you okay?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "I will be. Really, just go to sleep, I'll be fine."

"I can't sleep knowing you're by yourself," I told her, too tired to hide my worry.

She paused, and then her voice came out guiltily, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," I said gently, before asking, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she answered quickly, before adding, "It's late. I don't want you up and about this late into the night."

I was already pulling my duvet off and sitting at the edge of my bed as I said, "It's not a problem, Skye." It went quiet on her end, so I prompted, "Skye?"

"You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

Realising she did in fact want me there, I tried to reassure her. "No, of course not. I can come now."

She practically held her breath. "I owe you."

"You don't."

Exhaling softly, she said, "I'll send a cab to get you. I'll cover the cost. I don't want you on public transport in New York when all the weirdos are out."

I cracked a small smile. "Okay, Skye, see you soon."

Sounding relieved, she said, "See you soon."

I yawned as I hung up, trying to move quickly but still trying to wake up and so unintentionally moving at snail speed. After packing a small bag, including a change of clothes and some toiletries, I pulled on my shoes and a jacket before leaving for Skye's.

The taxi ride wasn't long since the streets weren't busy, and I found myself at Skye's door in less than twenty minutes. As soon as I knocked, she opened up.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile, before hugging her in greeting. "How are you?"

She hugged me back and let me in, closing the door behind me. I noticed she was wearing her pyjamas, hair dishevelled and eyes a little red.

"Better now," she admitted, before frowning. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you did," I told her, before leaving my bag by the kitchen counter. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You're tired," she noticed.

I waved a hand dismissively, trying to look more awake. "I can stay awake if you want, Skye."

She sighed, shaking her head, before wordlessly grabbing my hand and dragging me to her bedroom.

"Come on," she said as she climbed into her queen sized bed, so I got out of my shoes and jacket and followed suit, settling in beside her.

We laid on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I glanced at her, her expression dimly lit by the moonlight and lights shining through her blinds. She was weary, though attempting to hide it.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" I asked curiously.

She swallowed visibly. "Not as much as I used to, but... sometimes, yeah." She paused, as if stuck in an internal debate, before admitting, "It was about the accident."

At the mention of the accident, the air in the room felt charged with uncertainty, and Skye's jaw tensed slightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked tenderly, and when she didn't reply, I quickly added, "Or you don't have to at all."

Her dark eyes flickered to mine, surprisingly calm. "It's okay. It's just– it's a lot. And when I'm alone, it's..."

"A lot," I finished for her.

She nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

I found her hand between us, squeezing it gently in support.

"I remember how difficult it was after," she muttered. "That, and the withdrawals, and all of it – it was a lot. Being in the hospital... I had my mum, but it felt so lonely."

I frowned as she recalled the experience, hearing it for the first time from her lips. And then she looked over at me and I looked back, realising there were tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked, voice cracking and eyes welling up. "I wanted you to visit so bad. I– I thought you would."

Not expecting that, I struggled to speak. "I told you, Skye, I thought you wouldn't want me there. I..."

She let go of my hand and wiped her eyes shamefully, looking away. I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow to look down at her, not wanting her to bottle everything up now.

"I waited," she whispered. "Every day, hoping you'd come to see me."

My heart crumbled at her words, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not your fault, I know that. But I just..."

With the nightmare still fresh and her recollection of the past at the forefront of her mind, I knew her emotions were heightened and she was overwhelmed, and it hurt to witness.

I pulled her into my chest for a hug, rubbing her back gently. "I wish I had. I wanted nothing more than to see you then, Skye, truly. But I'm here now. I promise."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away either. Her sniffles were heard in the silence of the room and she kept a firm grip on my tee shirt, and I didn't know what else to do other than continue to rub her back soothingly.

At some point, we must have dosed off like that because when I opened my eyes next, it was morning. I yawned as I rubbed my face, confused to where I was at first. And then I recognised Skye's room and it all came back to me.

I looked beside me, seeing Skye fast asleep, face smushed against her pillow adorably. She looked a lot better than she did last night and I was glad for it, seriously worried about her. Hopefully she'd gotten some sleep after everything.

Trying not to stare too long, reminding myself that it wasn't very platonic of me, I looked away and carefully clambered out of her bed to freshen up. After doing so, I went into her kitchen to find something to eat.

I was eating from a bowl of cereal at her kitchen island when I heard footsteps, looking up to see her leaving her bedroom.

"Good morning," I greeted. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed tiredly, yawning and running a hand through her dishevelled hair. I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"Better," she finally spoke, brown eyes meeting mine across the counter. "Thanks, Y/N. For coming last night."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, and looked down thoughtfully. After a moment, she said, "I know I haven't talked to you much about it all."

My expression softened. "I don't expect you to."

"I know," she said quietly, before meeting my gaze. "I want to. I do. Otherwise the way I am, how I act... it doesn't make sense and I don't want you to feel confused or think I'm insane or–"

"Hey," I cut her off, furrowing my brows. "I don't think that, Skye."

She chewed her lip momentarily, eyes flickering to the counter top. "I want you to know. Eventually. I just– it'll be bit by bit because I can't go through it all at once. It's too much."

I frowned sympathetically. "That's alright. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you just want the support, I can give you that too. It's what friends do."

She smiled a little, nodding. "Right."

I studied her expression, unsure what to make of it. "Did you get any sleep? Last night?"

She nodded, looking up. "I did, yeah. Thanks for coming. I know it was late. And I'm sorry for breaking down on you."

I gave her a knowing look, offering a small smile. "You need to stop apologising."

She exhaled. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Never mind that. You want breakfast? I can make whatever you want, providing you have it of course."

She smiled as she took a seat. "That would be nice, yeah. Eggs couldn't hurt."

"Eggs it is then," I said, eating the last bite of my cereal before standing up. "Give me five minutes.”

She nodded and watched me, relaxed for even the smallest of moments, enough to put me at ease too.

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 5. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Forgive me; this chapter is absolute shit! Publishing this makes me feel very ashamed and disappointed in myself. I hate this so much, but it's probably the best what I can do right now. I hope I didn't let you down and hope you won't lose your interest for this story because of this chapter. Also, this chapter has only Mingi (finally), Jongho, and the stalker, whoever that might be. I swear the story won't be about Jongho all the time although he's been in a lot of chapters, since he is important at the beginning. I hope I'm not wasting your time with this, and that at least someone will find this enjoyable :,) Thank you for reading!

Word count: 4 641

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“Is this really necessary?” 

“Just take my hand. How do you think the stalker is going to notice we’re in a relationship otherwise?” 

At Jongho’s question, you began to ponder. The stalker would notice anyway that there was something supposedly between you and Jongho, so why did you have to hold hands with him? 

Nonetheless, you grabbed Jongho’s warm hand, intertwining your fingers together. It was supposed to look romantic and make everyone think you were two lovebirds flying on cloud 9, but it looked most likely awkward. That’d work too, you supposed. After all, the first stages of relationships sometimes felt embarrassing. 

“Fake relationship, remember.” 

Jongho scoffed, “Do you think I’d be in a real relationship with you?” 

That hurt. You had been rejected before by romantic and platonic interests, but none of them had talked to you like you were a repulsive, filthy animal looming in the sewers. 

“No...” 

He just glanced at you as you gave your dejected reply. It was clearly not in his interest to make you feel loved, but it was probably better for him to be brutally honest, than fool you into thinking the act of being a couple wasn’t just pretending. 

“I hope the performance won’t be a waste of our time,” Jongho murmured. 

It had been his idea to go together to a Valentine’s Day event the city had arranged. What could be more romantic than holding hands and watching awful music performances by unknown wannabe artists while freezing to death? 

The stage in front of you was decorated with red paper hearts and white balloons in a bad taste, being a shameful insult to art. Maybe it was supposed to get people on festive mood yet it only gave everyone who looked at it a headache. You were already feeling anxious to have so many people around you in the audience, but you had to endure it; Jongho had demanded you to stay with him for your own safety. The moment you’d leave his sight, the stalker could strike.  

Just then, you saw a familiar person step on the stage with overflowing confidence. 

“Is that... Mingi?” you murmured in shock, more to yourself than Jongho. 

The man holding your hand couldn’t answer to you. Jongho was usually so calm and collected, so it amused you greatly to see him, lips parted and eyes wide, trying to make sense out of the sight in front of him. 

“Mingus Dingus in the house! Fix on!” 

A couple people from the crowd cheered at his arrival. The rest of the audience, at least 70 people, were whispering to each other and wondering who Mingi was. 

“Apparently, this poor excuse of a city doesn’t have enough money to use on events anymore.” 

“Yeah. I have no idea who this is. Possibly some homeless man, that they found from the streets and promised to give dinner money to if he performed.” 

You heard a couple men next to you talk poorly about Mingi, which made your heart ache. Mingi didn’t seem like a bad person, completely opposite actually. He was passionate about his music and had both courage and energy to keep doing what he loved. That was admirable. 

Tensing up as the music started playing, you squeezed Jongho’s hand tighter without even noticing. This performance would turn out to be a catastrophe, a total fiasco, and a hit on your already fragile mental health. You couldn’t handle seeing people fail, it just made you want to bury yourself so you would never have to see something like that again. 

But as Mingi opened his mouth and his self-written lyrics started flowing out, you found yourself flabbergasted. Even impressed. 

“Sent it off in the wind, every photo, every piece of my heart...” 

Jongho seemed to listen to Mingi’s performance as well with perked up ears. 

“It was tough for me to see a single letter, so I sent it all away...” 

Mingi’s voice made you feel all kinds of things. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact names for them, but the emotions in his voice and the lyrics hit you deep in the heart. It was something unexplainable. 

You watched the performance and the way Mingi’s eyes shined with flames of passion that could not be put out. It was something that nobody could fake; only people who truly loved what they were doing would be able to captivate like that. It was so vulnerable, like he was opening up to everyone who listened. 

Unfortunately, a lot of people didn’t bother to listen. They were leaving little by little, and by the end of the song, only about 30 people were still listening to what Mingi wanted to express through his music. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave.” 

Before you could control your reactions, you answered Jongho firmly, “No. I want to listen.” 

You would have never dared to speak like that to anyone, let alone to Jongho, but Mingi’s song had woken up both your emotions and loyalty to him as his new fan. 

It went unnoticed by you how Jongho’s expression darkened at your refusal. His grip tightened on your hand but all you cared about in that moment was Mingi. 

As the performance continued, the rest of the audience left as well. It even made you angry. Of course, people had the right to leave if a performance didn’t interest them, but how could they be so deaf to the art Mingi had created? 

It was the most freezing day of February, but you couldn’t care less about your shivering body or the cold wind that almost pushed you down. It was like even the wind didn’t care about Mingi’s songs and wanted to push you away from the stage. The way his performance set the stage on fire warmed your body and soul in the cold. 

At last, the performance ended. Mingi had given his whole soul to it, to reach people’s ears and hearts, but you were the only one whose heart he had successfully won over. 

Only two people, you and Jongho, had stayed the whole time. As the last chords of the song played, you stared at Mingi in awe, head empty and heart full. He looked at the audience he had left, and despite the lack of people, bowed deep and respectfully. He was thankful that he hadn’t been left completely alone, to perform for the emptiness. 

“Fix off.” 

Jongho tried to hold onto your hand tightly, but you ripped it away from his grip to applaud Mingi. Your lonely yet sincere claps reached Mingi’s ears, and he casted a smile for you. Then he left the stage. 

“Y/N, don’t-” 

You didn’t care about Jongho’s demand. Only thing you needed to do now was to run to Mingi and tell him how much his performance meant for you. How amazing he was. How he had managed to touch your heart. Unlike usually, you weren’t interested in the possibility of embarrassing yourself. 

Your hurried steps reached Mingi fast, although the headwind was slightly slowing you down. He was facing another direction, head turned downwards. 

“Mingi! Your performance was amazing! I never could have guessed you were that talented,” you spoke, sounding a bit too excited. 

Hopefully Mingi wouldn’t think of you as some deranged fan. 

But you hadn’t expected to see tears on his face as he turned around to look into your eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me. I know no-one liked it.” 

Speechless, you looked at Mingi’s heartbreaking expression. Warm tears were glistening in his eyes and streaming down his face. Lips pressed in a tight line, he looked somehow offended at your comment, trying to hold onto his dignity. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. I have no talent.” 

You frowned at Mingi’s words, “Do you think I would have stayed here and rushed to compliment you, if I hadn’t liked your performance?” 

Jongho had walked up to you silently and was standing next to you, hands in the pockets of his jacket. The look on his face directed at you was even colder than the air, as he listened you praise Mingi. 

“I would have left with the other people if your performance hadn’t been good.” 

At your words, even more tears welled up in Mingi’s eyes. He looked away from you, probably feeling embarrassed to show such vulnerability in front of you and Jongho. 

“I just want you to know that your lyrics, songs and voice impressed me. They made me feel... things,” you rambled on before starting to realize you were way too passionate. 

A hopeful expression crossed Mingi’s face, before disappearing like he was afraid to get his hopes up and heart broken, “What kind of things?” 

You were getting shy under Mingi and Jongho’s eyes. It was too late to act coy now; you had already revealed your overwhelming emotions Mingi’s songs had managed to bring up to the surface. 

On top of everything, you could relate to him. He worked so hard to be seen and appreciated, but got only ridiculing snorts and ignorance as a response. Some people were born to be insignificant in others’ eyes while the rest were born lucky to be acknowledged. To be seen wasn’t something to take for granted. 

“I could relate to your songs. The emotions you showed in your performance uncovered something in me that I have tried to forget.” 

It was almost a magical moment to see Mingi’s eyes sparkle. Could have been the tears that made it look like his eyes shined, but there was more to it. All of his dreams had been accomplished when he heard that his songs finally managed to reach someone’s ears. That he had been seen at last. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I will never forget what you said!” Mingi suddenly grabbed both of your hands in his, holding tightly to them like you were his salvation. 

“That’s enough,” Jongho ripped your hands forcefully out of the taller man’s grip. 

Sure, Jongho had to act like you were a couple, but was it really fair to treat Mingi like that? You had already lost your confidence that had emerged from nowhere before, so you had no courage to say anything. You had to remember, Jongho was still a man and much stronger than you; it would be hard to fight back if he decided he had had enough of your attitude. 

“I can hold her hands if I want to. What are you, her boyfriend?” 

“In fact, I am. So, keep your hands to yourself,” Jongho warned Mingi. 

Mingi looked suddenly devastated, which surprised you. His mouth was agape, trying to say something. He didn’t manage to let anything past his lips other than his silent breathing. He was left behind as Jongho led you away. 

Later on, you arrived at a park. To your luck, the park still had people wandering around although the sky was already turning dark. Although Jongho had promised to protect you, you didn’t want to be left alone with any man after the sun had set. String lights set to hang from the leafless trees lit up your way as you walked hand in hand with him. 

“Look at that! An ice rink!” you gasped, pointing at an ice rink in the park, not being able to hide your excitement. You hadn’t been ice skating since forever. 

Jongho gave you a judging side-eye, “Too expensive. Let’s go drink hot chocolate.” 

You had no courage to fight back his idea, so you let him lead you to a stall selling all kinds of drinks and treats. To be honest, you felt like this was actually romantic and fit the Valentine’s Day although you were spending it with a fake boyfriend. With a man who had implied he would never date you. 

“Two hot chocolates. Sizes small and large,” Jongho said to the man keeping the stall. 

Well honestly, he was more like a boy. He looked the age of 17 and extremely bored. You couldn’t blame him since he had been holding the stall probably for hours already, trying to earn some pathetic amount of pocket money. 

You dug for your wallet, prepared to pay for the small sized drink, since Jongho most likely had ordered the large one for himself. He could have at least asked which size you wanted; the small one would not be enough to quench your thirst. 

“I’ll pay,” Jongho said and pushed a carton mug full of hot chocolate into your hands. 

The fact that he promised to pay surprised you already, but you noticed that the mug he had given you was the size large. 

“Thank you...” you mumbled, looking up in Jongho’s eyes. 

His blank stare made you uncomfortable. Why did he never smile at you? It wasn’t very convincing to never crack a smile at you, when you were supposed to act like a couple in love. 

You two found a bench to sit on under a tree. It was a beautiful spot, the perfect place for you to sit next to each other, huddle for warmth and share tender kisses – that was if you two had been actually dating. There was just one problem: the bench was covered in thick layer of snow after last night’s storm. 

“Are you really suggesting this spot? I’d look like I had wet myself after sitting on that.” 

“You can sit on my lap. That way your ass won’t get wet.” 

Jongho’s proposal made your eyes widen. He was truly shameless. 

And finally, it happened. He smiled at you – although it was a mischievous one, it was the first smile you had ever seen on his face. The emotionless man was forgotten as you watched how his cheeks, slightly red because of the cold air, rounded out and made him look like a teddy bear. 

“You’re always so closed off, trying to hide your emotions,” Jongho said. 

Look who’s talking. He wasn’t exactly the most open person in the world either. 

“I’m not closed off. Both you and Mingi saw how emotional I got over his songs.” 

Ever so slightly, Jongho’s expression darkened. His smile was long gone and he sighed in frustration. 

“I’m musical too, you know? I may not rap as well as Mingi but I can sing.” 

“Really? Prove it,” you challenged him. 

“No. You don’t deserve to hear my singing,” Jongho took a sip of his drink. 

“Fine. Then I’ll assume Mingi is better.” 

It was a risky game to play with Jongho. His reaction could be anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself before teasing him. You were getting way too comfortable. You knew it was dangerous, but you had been craving to have a friend for so long. Now that someone was actually willingly wasting their time on you, it felt like a chance to a new start. 

“I’ll sing for you one day but first, I want to give you something.” 

You raised a brow at Jongho’s statement, and your heartbeat quickened as he pulled something out of his bag. 

Could it be a Valentine’s Day gift? Maybe a flower or a heart-shaped chocolate box? 

But it had been a mistake to let your guard slightly down around Jongho. He proved to you right at that moment that he shouldn’t have been trusted. That you should have run away and hid from him when you had the chance. 

The object in his hand was unrecognizable in the dark at first. You could only see the gleam of the yard lights reflected on the object, making you finally realize what it was. 

Jongho tossed his hot chocolate cup away, symbolizing how all of his sweet gestures had been a skillful play thrown away as well, just like your whole relationship. Now his other hand was completely free to use, while the other one held a pocket knife. 

You wanted to scream or try to convince him to spare your life, but you were speechless. Only thing you managed to do was take a few, shaky steps away from him, the monster in front of you. 

He didn’t let you get further away as he followed you with a gleam in his eyes that screamed insanity. 

“Do you fear death or me?” Jongho asked calmy. 

You glanced at the park. It was like everyone had suddenly disappeared. There was no savior for you if Jongho attacked. You would lose your life alone in the darkness before anyone could have come to your rescue. 

“A-Aren’t they the same thing?” 

Jongho shook his head with a chuckle, “Death sets you free. I will never do that.” 

His words rang in your ears for a split second before you dashed. Time was running out. 

“Y/N! Stop!” 

You didn’t even hear Jongho’s shout. No matter how loud he could have screamed at you, there was no chance you’d stop. You had to run out of the park and reach other people before Jongho could catch you and brutally pierce and cut your body, until you were unrecognizable to the police. Maybe even Yunho would be the one to find you. Yunho who wasn’t the stalker despite all your baseless suspicions. 

But one of the worst things, that was possible in that moment, happened. The ground under your feet was on ice and betrayed you ultimately. Your heart almost stopped as you lost your balance. 

Your cry of pain echoed in the park as your head smashed onto the ground, although your back had received the worst impact of falling on ice. It hurt like hell, but even in all your suffering, you couldn’t think of anything else than about the fact that this was the end. You had tried to trust other people and this was the result. In your intense pain and on the brink of unconsciousness, you didn’t even notice as Jongho got on his knees next to you on the ground. 

Tears ran down your cheeks, but you couldn’t even beg for your life. It was futile. 

Last thing your mind registered before fainting was Jongho’s warm hand petting your head. 

It felt like you had been unconscious for eternity when in reality it had been only 20 minutes or so. When you finally opened your eyes, you found your surroundings familiar. The person next to you was familiar as well. 

“You fainted.” 

No words left your lips, but your eyes told everything. You were terrified and confused. 

“I brought you here after you lost your consciousness.” 

You glanced at the room. It was your own apartment, everything in their own places, but it still seemed so wrong and unsafe, because of the man in front of you. The couch you found comfortable every other day, felt way too stiff in that moment, making the pain in your back worse. 

“That doesn’t explain why I’m alive. What do you want from me?” you managed to utter out, but the wavering in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. 

Jongho turned his face away with a guilty look. It was clear he regretted something. 

“It was all just a really bad joke. I didn’t mean to scare you that much.” 

The mix of anger and relief felt odd; you didn’t know whether to scream at him or cry in happiness that you didn’t get murdered. But you were too scared of him to show any reactions. Even if it had been just a joke, only a deranged person would scare others like that for their own entertainment. 

That’s why you forced yourself to forgive him. 

“...I forgive you” you gritted through your teeth. 

“I didn’t apologize though.” 

Your anger only flared up at Jongho’s arrogant response. First, he had seemed guilty for scaring you to death, but any ounce of regret you thought he had, was out of the window. Soon, Jongho would be out of the window as well; you didn’t want to see his remorseless face at that moment. 

“Get out of my house.” 

You had turned to look away from him, because you were afraid, you’d lash out at him. 

Jongho looked even slightly hurt at your words. The frown on his face was an indication of his growing agitation and refusal to leave that easily. 

“Do you want me to say sorry then?” 

“No,” you murmured, “It’s too late for that.” 

“Exactly. And I’m not sorry anyways,” Jongho scoffed, “I had to see how you’d react if the stalker was about to kill you. Think of it as practice. It was for your own good.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you tried to stay calm. It could be dangerous to anger the man even more, although you were the only one who had the right to be angry at that moment. And God, you were furious. 

“For my own good? I got a concussion and nearly broke my back!” 

“If you don’t appreciate me looking out for you, we can end this fake relationship.” 

Looking out for you? You couldn’t believe the audacity that man had. 

“Then let’s end this.” 

Jongho seemed to be stunned by your words – as stunned as a man that stoic and cold could be. You even felt a sense of glee at the tiny look of panic on his face. 

“No. I wasn’t serious. I just felt irritated because you don’t see how I want to protect you.” 

But you didn’t fall for that. You had no intention to be a victim of his manipulation. 

As you attempted to stand up from the couch, you whimpered in agony. The pain on your back was unbearable, but you were more concerned about the piercing headache, feeling like your head was being squished by a hydraulic press. 

“Let me-” Jongho started, getting up and trying to help you. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

You stepped away from him, feeling afraid once again. Could you be blamed for that, when just a half an hour ago you feared for your life because of that man? Even though it had been supposedly a joke, you couldn’t shake off the sense of panic at Jongho walking closer. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Get out,” you sighed, “Please.” 

The bright lights in your apartment hurt your head even more, and you barely stayed on your feet. Although your eyes were getting blurry, you managed to see Jongho’s sad face and him walking towards your front door. 

The apartment was silent as you sat down again, rubbing your temples and trying to ease the pain. The heavy tension hadn’t left although Jongho had. You didn’t know how to meet him again at the therapy session in a few days. 

That Valentine’s Day had seemed successful at first, and you had enjoyed Mingi’s performance despite the heartbreak you felt at seeing his anguish. Even conversing with Jongho had been nice until his poor attempt of a joke. What was supposed to be a day of friendship and romance – even fake kind – ended up in being horrifying. 

You really needed rest, some way to forget the headache for a while, so you fell asleep on the couch. Maybe the dizziness and Jongho’s “joke” would be just distant memories after a good nap, although you doubted that you’d ever forget Jongho’s face as he had creeped closer to you at the park.  

It might have been 30 minutes or so when the sound of a doorbell woke you up. If it was Jongho, you wouldn’t even open the door, not prepared to hear his excuses. 

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself to the door, wincing in pain every step you took. One look from the peephole revealed, that instead of Jongho, there was a man with flowers. He looked serious and exhausted but his silly little cap made him look less scary. 

“Flowers for miss Y/N L/N,” the man forced a smile on his face as you opened the door. 

Your heart fluttered. Someone had remembered you and sent you flowers. It could have been your family who sent the beautiful, bright yellow roses, since they wanted to remind you that they loved you despite all of the things they had done to you. 

Or maybe it could have been from the stalker. 

Nonetheless, you had to accept the roses, no matter how much their thorns could hurt you. They could prickle you with longing or draw blood from your fingers with promises of terror, but your curiosity got the best of you. 

You set the roses down on your dinner table when you noticed that they had a little letter tied to them with a pink ribbon. 

“Your pathetic boyfriend didn’t even give you a gift. Look what I brought.” 

Your blood ran cold. It was no doubt of who had sent you this. Still, you wanted to believe it could have been Mingi instead, even though he didn’t even know where you lived. Anything but the indisputable truth that the sender was indeed the stalker. 

But it wasn’t the end of your shock. You wanted to cry when you noticed another thing as well – a pink envelope that had come with the rose, inviting you to open it. There were heart stickers on it, one of them being a shiny teddy bear holding a heart. The envelope wanted to cast a spell on you and make you so scared yet curious, that you couldn’t stop yourself from seeing what it contained. 

And it definitely succeeded in that, although you tried your best to ignore it, to leave it unopened for the sake of your own sanity. 

Seven pieces of paper were revealed to be inside of it. 

You hated these envelopes so much. You despised the drawings, pictures and letters you had to see because you were just too curious to stay in blissful ignorance. 

Six out of seven of the pieces of paper had drawings on them. They were drawings of parts of a human body. Two pieces of arms, two of legs, one torso and one head. It had been clearly one whole drawing, one whole body of a woman, before having been cut into six pieces. The head even had a pout on it and hair similarly styled as yours. 

Confused about the drawing, you prepped yourself to take a look at the 7th piece of paper. The drawing was definitely a threat, there was no doubt of that, but you craved to understand it deeper. Although the whole thing made you feel nauseous, you needed to know what kind of and level of peril you were in – and to do that, you had to bite the bullet. 

There were words on the paper, written by a hand, whose writing style you recognized. 

“I’ll cut off your arms if you try to fight back,” the first sentence said. 

“I’ll cut off your legs if you try to escape,” the second sentence informed. 

“I’ll cut off your head if your eyes wander on or lips kiss someone else.” 

After you had read the final threat on the paper, you leaned on your chair, everything seemed to have slowed down. Your heartbeat was lazy and quiet, not overwhelmingly loud like in other moments of fear like this. It was so silent both in your head and the apartment, except for the rustling somewhere close. Right now, you needed Jongho. You didn’t have anyone else; only he could help, protect, and save you. He was the only person that wanted to hear your cries and see what he could do to stop you from hurting. Cursing yourself for kicking him out of your apartment, you wondered if he’d even agree to help you anymore. Maybe he’d still hug you and find the stalker to beat him up, and maybe, hopefully, he’d know where the quiet, almost inconspicuous, rustling noise in your apartment was coming from. 

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<- Chapter 4.

Chapter 6. ->

Masterlist

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Taglist: @devilzliaison

[dxmedstudent]

Forgive me if this is rough and messy, im down with a viral illness and this is something I've been thinking about after reading some stories on reddit but...

Can we just... not frame illness or disability (or infertility, which for many is a kind of disability) as some kind of karmic punishment?

Like, if you don't like someone because they were nasty or even evil to you, that's fine. We can agree they were a Grade A Butthole with added haemorrhoids.

If something bad happened to that person, you're not evil for not being sad about it, or even feeling schadenfreude. Feelings are complicated, and wanting someone who hurt you to feel hurt is something many of us can understand. That's not what I mean here and I'm not going to dissect that further. This is also not to defend the person for being a butthole - they deserve to be criticised for poor behaviour.

But I always feel deeply uncomfortable when people in comments roll out the "Yeah! your nasty cheating ex is now infertile / in a wheelchair/ a depressed alcoholic, that's karma! The universe has a way!"

...Because you're inadvertently framing physical or mental disability or infertility as a whole...as a punishment. And by extension implying that people who experience these things did something to deserve it.

I know it can feel good in that moment to imagine that this is some evil person's reckoning and that everyone gets their comeuppance. But it's such a dangerous way to look at things.

We need to get away from this frankly outdated and damaging belief that a healthy body is a reward for spiritual purity and that illness is a punishment for sin. That a body which doesn't work quite the same as most people's... must be due to moral failings. These beliefs have very real and damaging effects in terms if how we as a society treat the vulnerable - the mentally ill, the homeless, those with addiction issues, those with sexually acquired illness, for example.

It's disturbing how often even people who declare themselves to be ostensibly atheist will turn around and basically say something surprisingly religious, in the worst way. And not realise that they've not yet examined where these beliefs are coming from.

Hate the evil cheating ex, by all means. Be glad that they are unhappy, if you want. I won't tell you how to feel. You don't need to wish someone who was a horrible person well. You don't have to like them, forgive them or dismiss what they did (we should hold them accountable). We can absolutely unite and agree that someone is/was a nasty person.

But don't ridicule them FOR being unwell. Don't link illness with a perceived moral failing. No matter how evil you think they are.

Because most people who are suffering the exact same thing are not evil and didn't do anything to deserve it. And by framing it as such, how do you think it affects the many other disabled people reading your comment? Do you think they deserve everything that happened to them? What exactly do you think someone has to do to deserve good health? How perfect do they have to be?

Most of us are going to experience disability some degree, in our lives. We need to stop treating it as a rare or freakish event and see it as part of the spectrum of human experience. Struggles with adddiction are very common and are a cry for help and not a moral failing. 1 in 10 couples experience infertility. It's so fucking disrespectful to the many people with disabilities. To my patients. To my friends.

And to me.

As someone with infertility issues, it's pretty bloody triggering to read a whole bunch of strangers gleefully declare that "infertility is just nature's happy way of making sure awful people don't reproduce". That maybe people who have recurrent miscarriages "should just give up" because "nature's trying to tell them something".

Like...how very *eugenics* of you.

As if...plenty of awful people don't have children and aren't awful parents? All the bloody time. Are you advocating for all children to be appropriately supported and looked after, do you support children in care? Trans and intersex children? Children with complicated physical or mental needs? Or is this just a way for you to pat yourself on the back that your presumed or proven fertility is a sign of your own moral superiority?

Do those commenters eschew all medical care when they are ill? Obviously not. Nor should they - because misguided and petty though they are, they are also entitled to seek care if they need medical help. But they seem to think that when anyone they disapprove of experiences health problems they should, what? Just give up and suffer in silence?

Modern medicine exist to treat a myriad of illness and help people manage a plethora of disabilities. It exists FOR people. You don't have to earn adequate healthcare, it should belong to everyone. People are imperfect. Messy. They make mistakes. They don't always the the best care of themselves. That doesn't mean that they don't deserve healthcare or dignity. Or that they deserve judgement and scorn.

Illness. Doesn't. Discriminate.

By which I mean, it doesn't CARE if you're a nice person or a horrible one. I know that society likes to tell us that if we work out, eat healthily and are positive, that nothing bad will ever happen and we can "organic food" our way out of being ill. But that's just patently not true. And I say that as a doctor.

In medicine we have a saying, that the worst things happen to some of the best people. Because we see people who are lovely go through things nobody should experience.

All the time. It's heartbreaking, because we don't like seeing bad things happen to perfectly decent people. It makes all of us feel uncomfortable and vulnerable and sad. But it happens all the time.

We need to be very careful about how we think of, and frame, illness in all it's forms.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Erin's Crew

Stressed nerves

Later. While Diego was taking care of dinner, Peter saw Chloe standing in the kitchen as well. She watched somewhat impassively as the food was prepared. “Everything all right? You seem a bit out of sorts.” She gave him a pained smile. “I'm … I'm trying to process everything we've been through in the last few weeks. And I really admire your courage, you're still so young and you've coped with it all much better than I have"/ ‘I was confronted with the subject of death at an early age’.

“What do you mean by 'early'?”. Peter's expression was calm and not at all sad. “I never knew my father, he died before I was born, I know that from my mother and also from the grave in the cemetery in Korea. When I was 8, my uncle died of pneumonia, two years later my grandfather…”. An oppressive feeling spread through Chloe's chest. “oh man, sorry…”.

Peter noticed that it was really bothering her emotionally. “Hey, it's all right. In our culture, we deal with the loss of loved ones differently. At least in my family. “/ “I see… I grew up with my aunt because my mother had mental health problems. I was always afraid that I might turn out like her. That was also one of the many reasons why I joined the military. I needed the distraction”.

While working on the PC, Erin didn't realize how quickly time was actually passing. It was only when she looked at the little clock on the PC that she realized how late it actually was. “Mmh, finally finished, oh boy. I remember now why I hate writing so much - these chairs are awful. I really need to get some exercise later. I'll do the rest tomorrow”…

The smell of freshly made dinner drifted into the office. And everyone was pretty hungry. The last meal was in the early hours of the morning. “And I thought you'd grown stuck in your chair"/ ”I had to summarize the reports from the last three months, which takes a while. You're welcome to do it next time, Mr. Swan!” said Erin, her voice resonating with irony.

“I want to see you again later in the office, Mr. Swan. Your report was a bit sloppy"/ ”sloppy? Aha… Give me a better helicopter, then the reports will be better too…"/ ‘I'm sure that has less to do with it…’/ ‘pff… I don't know what else there is to talk about’. The last sentence made Roman cough a little, as he had his own thoughts on the matter.

While people were discussing at one table, they were grateful at another. “Thank you for talking to me earlier, Peter. It's good therapy to be able to talk to someone who has experienced the same terrible things out there."/ ‘You could have talked to me earlier’/ ”hn, I didn't know you well enough. And I have to say it again… you were really brave out there"/ ‘hn, thank you’….

Roman watched Erin during the meal. She was always good at hiding her own emotions behind her serious expression. But He noticed how she kept glancing at Diego. “And how was my report, Colonel? Hopefully better than Diego's"/ ”it was acceptable, but you should urgently change the way you write a factual report. “/ “Hm? What was wrong with it?”.

“The way you wrote about the victims is sometimes very derogatory and aggressive”. Roman's look became a little gloomy. “It was their own fault that they bit the dust…”. She looked at him seriously for a moment without lifting her head. “Would you find it okay if someone wrote a report about you like that? Without a shred of decency and dignity?"/ ‘No�� Certainly not’/ ‘Then try harder next time’.

“Have you contacted your relatives yet?"/ ”Sure, but they don't care whether I'm well or not. Our relationship has always been shitty,” Roman said in a harsh tone. Erin then looked at him, tilting her head slightly. “Maybe you should think about why that is” / ”Do you want to send me to the psychodoc too? No thanks"/ ”That's entirely up to you. I wish you all a good night then”. Erin got up without another word and walked back towards the office.

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@greenplumbboblover ⭐

poses by @poses-by-bee & @bluehazardxx77xx

NOTE: I don't know who here watched the first episode about the helpers yesterday or not. (except for the heart pushers, thank you).^^ I know I'm now in a different household, in a completely different place, but a dear friend suggested to me that maybe I should change locations for a while because I had reached a point where I needed a change of scene in the story. So the suggestion that maybe we could bring the helpers to the forefront of the story for a bit came just in time. and I want to show Erin's reaction to Jack's email, as well as her further research.

[mimisfortress]

Guess who lost her diary key and is now turning to Tumblr to blog my feelings (me) 🦄🌈

~

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💞💌Really long VENT post coming your way ❤️‍🩹🪽

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Currently going through an emotional rut.

I feel pretty unsure of myself. I lost a couple of friends and I am having a hard time knowing whether it was my fault or if they had it coming.

These weren't just normal friends, they were family at that point. We witnessed unspeakable things together at a fairly young age and I really, really, really thought that our friendship was forever. I thought our friendship was different from everyone else's in a sense that growing older wouldn't impact us the way adults warned us it would. I thought trauma made us special and I thought change wouldn't find us.

To these friends, I was their baby sister and they treated me as such, too. They dogged on who I loved and did not trust me to make my own choices. They grilled someone who I had genuine love for after not batting an eye at the unhappy abusive relationship I was in for three years.

As I grew older, I grew distant because I was too scared to express that the way they treated me upset me. I figured that since they already have so much to worry about in their lives, my fragile feelings would burden them.

I am aware of the importance of communication, but I simply just felt like I couldn't communicate my feelings to them in any way.

During the past month, our friendship of 9 years came to an end. It crashed and burned when I couldn't make it to a big hang out that costed a lot of money. It was only supposed to be my friend and I, just us two. Luckily, this former friend of mine got a refund and another friend was able to take my place.

I don't know why they wanted me so bad. They had a lot to say about how bad of a friend I was and not much good to say about me, and yet they wanted me so bad. I didn't feel appreciated as a person and they didn't celebrate me as a friend. Yet, if they told me they needed me I'd come in and do what I could to the best of my ability even after they told me they hated me or told me my desperate attempts to help after they begged for my help was "inappropriate". I still stayed because if I'm the one in the wrong, I can also make it into a right if I really tried.

I hate to say it, but I feel anger when I think about these friends of mine. What I hate even more is that I keep wanting to go back. I keep wanting to say "yes! You're right, I am a terrible and awful person and I will change myself just for you guys!" just to hear their laughter again, see their funny smiles, and . . . inevitably get sent large paragraphs of text telling me I did something wrong again. And then the cycle repeats where I think that I'm wrong and they're right because I'm the little sister who's immature and doesn't know anything and they're the older, wiser sisters who parent me.

I was really sure that I was the failure. I was the one that failed to hold it together. I mean, come on! I didn't communicate my feelings, I told a big lie to them, and I grew distant without explanation.

But then I had invited a friend of mine into my home who has hurt more times than anyone I've ever known. We didn't have to experience a terribly traumatic event together at a young age to be best friends, she just loved me. She loved me and she told me why.

She liked that I didn't yell or curse when she had moments of frustration and impatience, she appreciated my high level of patience, and she tells me that she thinks I have emotional intelligence.

My other friends never told me anything like that. They think I suck at supporting them, they don't think I can be trusted to make good decisions, that I'm an inconvenience and blah, blah, blah, blah.

At my house, my friend looked over the texts shared between me and these other friends. Maybe it's pushing their privacy, but I felt like it was detrimental for my mental health for eyes other than mine to view these text messages and tell me if I'm allowed to be upset or not.

This friend of mine looked at these text messages with complete and utter disgust. I watched her make faces viewing the messages. She visibly cringed upon reading them and it shocked me. I thought she was going to be able to find something I said, point at it, and tell me "here's what I think made her mad. I can help you write an apology if you want!"

But no, reading the exchange of text messages angered her so much that she couldn't bare to read the rest, which disappointed me. What if she's missing the part where I say something I need to apologize for?

What she told me was this :

• You need to stop letting them walk all over you, you need to write a long message to them but not out of empathy or kindness, but to give yourself closure. You need to do more for yourself. I just don't want you to sit here and let them bully you.

• They are simply just choosing to believe that you are a bad friend. You don't talk bad about them to me at all, and yet they claim that's all you've been doing.

• Why is it okay for them to discuss what they don't like about you behind your back and not you?

And stuff like that. We never ended up sending a long text for me to express my emotions because knowing these friends, they'd blow up on me even more and tell me how a lot of it is actually my fault.

It's been a hard 3 months. I'm worried about becoming exactly what these friends of mine chose to believe I was; an unempathetic, emotionally unintelligent, mentally-unstable, coldhearted, and immature creature.

This is because often times things are believed into existence. Therefore, I'm going to work on kindness without the expectation of something in return, generosity, mental clarity, and patience to prevent their beliefs from becoming reality. I'm not going to give anyone a reason to treat me like they did ever again.

This situation has impacted my mental health pretty negatively, and so I'll be posting updates on my mental health!

[bonesandthebees]

I just rounded off my period so a massive L to all of you I suppose /lhj

I'm in so much pain about the Wilbur situation in general and have so many mixed feelings. Like I've only just got a chance to sit down and read his 'apology' and all of the replies from content creators and (ex)fans alike. I was so close to throwing up that I had to close the tab /gen.

I've never really watched Shubble content, nor have I had a chance to watch her full vod on the issue, so my first instinct was to be a good little media sieve and try to be open-minded before making an opinion. I won't lie, I was trying very hard to convince myself that it wasn't Wilbur and everyone was jumping to conclusions (though the more I read made that less and less likely).

I was worried for Wilbur's group (tommy, phil, charlie etc) because there was no way they could stream without being harassed by it, and worried partially for Wilbur as well because of various mental health problems that he's admitted to in the past.

Now that he's responded, though, everything's so much worse. As someone who struggled with being on the victim side of abuse for a while, I feel awful for Shelby and everything that happened to her.

Charlie, Ranboo, Tubbo etc have all responded (most very passionately so I have no doubt where they stand), so that's good for them, but tommy and phil have yet to. I can't help but wonder if Techno knew, if it had even started by then or if Wilbur didn't tell him.

I've seen people making reasonable assumptions about signs in past content that may have pointed to Wilbur's abuse, but there are some people making reaches that don't even make sense and now I can barely consume content or even remember videos that i used to be fond of without worrying that it was just Wilbur manipulating people.

Also, as far as I'm aware, none of lovejoy have replied to the situation (apart from the ex trumpeter), so ash, mark and joe are getting hate when they haven't done anything (though I may have just not seen it yet).

Some part of my brain is convinced this is all some horrible nightmare and I'll wake up able to laugh and joke about SBI content with my friends, even if I know that'll likely never happen again.

If there's one thing for certain, it's that his response was not an apology. I do believe that he thought long and hard about it (even if it was just for superficial PR reasons) and maybe ran it by people he trusted, but it was not what he should have said in response to Shelby coming forward about his abuse. All he's done is dig a bigger hole and now thousands of his (ex)supporters have to live with the consequences of his actions.

Honestly, I just feel sad. Sad that it happened, sad that Wilbur isn't who I thought he was and sad that my life will be drastically different from here on out.

Sorry that that was so heavy. I just feel really confused and there's a pit in my stomach that's churning horribly.

-🌺 <3

oh of course SOMEONE just had to finish their period right when the rest of us get it smh /lh

yeah, this is such a horrible situation overall. for me at least his response made the situation somewhat more tolerable because it felt like a closure moment. it made me realize, oh, he was really awful the entire time and this shit apology proves it. however, I'm sure in a few days the reality will hit me and I'll feel awful again. it's not fun realizing someone you admired and were a fan of for so long was a completely different kind of person than the guy he presented himself as.

I don't know where you heard that charlie responded, because as far as I'm aware he has not said anything anywhere about this situation yet.

I also don't think it's very worthwhile for people to be combing through old vods and videos for 'questionable moments' they can point at and be like "look he was abusive the whole time!" because we don't know what's going on in cc's personal lives. more than anything that should be the take away here. we don't know these people, we don't know their personal relationships, we shouldn't be trying to pinpoint every questionable moment and prove something with it because we're not in these personal relationships with wilbur. the other cc's are. basically, don't overthink what you see in old vods or old videos. it's not going to help whatsoever and it's none of our business.

I've also had the thought that this feels like a nightmare I could wake up from. I've had that thought every day since shelby's stream first happened. but unfortunately that's not the case, and we need to focus instead on supporting the victims here

I'm sorry there's not much I can say to help. just try to take care of yourself. give yourself time. it'll get a bit easier with each passing day.

[arideth]

Fallen Star - Matt Sturniolo

Warnings: swearing, mental health issues on readers end, fluff, comforting Matt, NO Y/N (your name is Scarlet in this), and that's about it.

Summary: When you start to fall into your seasonal depression, Matt's the first person to always know and be right by your side the whole time.

Everything written is fictional and no events nor personalities of the people are real. again, PURELY FICTION!

- STORY UNDER THE CUT -

Winter had started, and so had what everyone likes to call seasonal depression. I no longer had any motivation to do anything in the world. Waking up was an inconvenience, physically getting up was difficult, talking to people was a nightmare.

I was supposed to be helping the boys with their channel but I genuinely had no motivation or interest in helping recently. Chris had called me, and so had Nick and Matt. I never answered a single call.

I felt awful not answering them, but I didn't have the energy nor heart and tone to answer them. I know I'd sound like my childhood dog had just died and I didn't want them to hear or see me like that.

The weather outside is the only thing keeping me going right now. It's cold, and it's been snowing recently. I climbed out of bed and went to go put on thick sweatpants and a hoodie Matt had left at my house a couple weeks ago.

I walked outside and let out a sigh of relief to see the snow slowly falling and the wind slightly blowing against my cheeks. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Matt calling me. I answered the phone and put it up to my ear.

"Scarlet...are you ok?" Matt asked with a worried tone.

Letting out a breathily laugh I responded, "Never been better Matt."

I heard Matt sigh over the phone before he spoke. "I can see you. I'm parking to your right. You're not ok, get in the damn car."

My head shot towards the direction he had said and sure enough, there he was sitting in the car with the phone up to his ear looking at me with the most pitying look you've ever seen.

I felt tears well up in my eyes knowing he's seeing me. Like THIS. I didn't want him to see me like this at all. But slowly I walked towards his car trying not to let these tears fall.

Matt got out and greeted me with a tight and long hug. I had never felt so safe and at calm than I did now. The hug was painful as ever too though. Knowing he was going to be here to see me break down and lose all hope.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Matt asked still embracing me.

I just cried into his chest, unable to form an answer to his question at that exact moment.

"You know you can always tell me anything right? I'll never judge you for anything." Matt stated quietly, but just enough for me to hear him.

I nodded my head still not letting go. Matt softly brushed his fingers through my hair still holding me tight in a comforting and warm way.

"I wanted to...I just didn't have the heart. I didn't want to burned you guys with my problems or anything." I told him, finally letting go.

My eyes were puffy and I knew my nose and cheeks were red from not only crying but because of the snow as well. He looked down at me with yet another pitying look on his face.

"Please Scarlet, you'd never be a bother to us. Especially not me. I know what you're going through trust me, I'll always be here for you. You understand that?" He asked gently grabbing my shoulders.

I nodded and just looked at him not wanting to speak and risk my voice cracking and crying again. He just lead me to the passenger side of the car and opened to door. He buckled my seat belt for me and walked around to get into the driver seat.

He didn't ask anything else, and he didn't say anything else either. He started driving and I knew exactly where he was taking me. It was a spot he had showed me he went to when he was having problems with himself.

It was a beach, a very small secluded beach. Maybe about half a miles worth of sand and thousands of miles of visible blue icy water.

When we arrived we both got out and he opened the trunk to grab a bag and a blanket. He also had two cups in his hand that had a bit of steam coming out the top. He handed me a cup and when I was able to smell it, I had noticed it was hot chocolate.

"Come on. I know that you know exactly where we're at and why we're here so come on." He said reaching his hand out for me to grab.

I grabbed his hand and we walked our way down the rocks and slowly but surely reached the flat soft sand. It was cold on our feet, cause there was snow covering it. The whole beach was 4 times colder than anywhere else.

He laid out a blanket and reached in his bag to grab another blanket and two pillows.

"Matt what are you doing?" I asked with a monotones voice and a straight face.

He looked up from what he was doing for a few moments. "I can tell you haven't been sleeping. And I also know the sound of the waves and wind calms you down and helps you sleep so I brought this here so you can get some sleep."

"It's freezing out here tho...you don't have to do this Matt I can manage on my own." I replied while still standing there stiffly.

He ignored my statement and kept setting up the blankets. When he was finished he laid down and put his head on the pillow warming himself up under the blanket.

"I'm not sleeping here for my pleasure. Now come lay down and get some sleep, please?" He asked while turning his head to look at me still standing there.

I moved closer to the blanket and got under it with Matt. He pulled me close into basically another hug so we'd stay warm.

"Aren't we too young for this Matt? To feel the ways we do. We haven't even lived yet..." I asked looking him in the eyes.

"You're never too young to feel things Scarlet. Everyone feels things, and everyone also needs and escape from it." He replied wrapping his arm around me.

I sighed and looked up at the sky. Cloudy, dark, foggy, and silent. "I just wish I could isolate for a little bit you know? Just go somewhere far away and escape everything."

"Me too don't worry. Unfortunately we can't always do that. But it's ok, we all have our own little personal escapes." Matt replied with the faintest hint of a smile in his voice.

I softly smiled at his attempts to comforting me. "Thank you Matt. Really."

"Don't thank me, it's basic human decency and I care about you. I'm not going to sit back and watch you suffer in silence." Matt said while pulling me closer to him.

Me and Matt laid there like this for hours. Not a single thought crossed our minds except peace and comfort. The snow didn't bother us, the cold, the wind, none of it. We were at peace and comfort laying there together.

Before either of us were about to fall asleep in the silence of the beach, I spoke to Matt.

"I love you Matt."

"I love you too Scarlet."

[adonis-koo]

Oh my godd misssy😢 I'm so sorry you've been feeling this way!

Honestly, i was slightly shy to really send in any asks or comments cause, WTF💖?!? I'd be gushing and squealing with puppy like excitement in every of them!

I've RE-read your works over and over again, dear! The way you can string together words and set up these detailed scenarios is just to die for! Not to mention, the intricacy of the fucking plot!! It's rare that I see someone so dedicated to the plot just as they are usually to the romance! Take Tease!au, or wicked!au for example. You've created the PERFECT balance between bitter and sweet in every one of your fics!

And even when it comes to the daddy!jk masterlist of yours, it's a 100% romance😍 and it's never boring.

If I'm being honest, i think what i like most about your writing is the angst. You leave us hanging on, waiting for more in the most artistic way possible. You make me want angst as well! You've always been able to play around with words such that i feel that fucking pang in in my chest.

Also.. i think i may have told you this.. but, my fucking boyfriend liked your stuff. He caught me scrolling through tumblr 😂😂 and he fell flat. Had half a mind to make an account of his own! So it's not just a gender oriented fan base you have.

I'm sorry I've ranted so much, lol. But, I couldn't bare to see such a beautiful and talented writer lose her spirits like this. You might say it's not much, but, i say that there should be absolutely zero depletion in that cheerful spirit.

Please, missy. Don't lose hope. There really are hundreds of thousands of people that enjoy your works. Maybe they've just not been able to work uo the courage to interact as of yet. No matter the case, please.. Don't lose your spirit. You're very very well loved, dear. You have a knack for writing, and it's a very admirable trait. Keep at it!

~ Lily ♡

Lily you got me over here trying not to sniffle and cry 😭😭😭 I’m trying really hard to pull myself out of this slump and it’s not going very well!! It’s far from the first time I’ve had feelings like this so I’ve adjusting to coping but it’s still an awful thing.

And once again, complaining and crying hasn’t really done anything, in fact I feel like it’s just made me feel even worse because again, I don’t want it come across that I don’t appreciate the ones who do support me, I love each and every single one of you!!! (your boyfriend is a bonus LOL but saying I love him would be a little too weird, still very cool that a man enjoyed my writing though and it’s not just gender exclusive🫶)

I’ve loved every moment of writing both Tease and Wicked, that’s something I cannot stress enough., but I was fresh 18 when I first started Tease, I didn’t have nearly the responsibility and stress of life that I have now getting ready to be 24, I look back and reminisce that I was actually able to pump out 10-20k every two weeks so diligently! And it makes me so depressed knowing I can no longer do that.

Not to mention that while it has been rewarding, it has become so much more taxing to my mental health to keep trying, for my own personal enjoyment it has been absolutely rewarding but the demand that people have had over the years has really stressed me out, balancing all of this is such a tricky thing! And at one point I thought it would get easier to balance, but if it does, I haven’t made it yet 😭

You and so many others give me so much encouragement, I just feel so strangely disconnected from my writing and this blog lately and I hope it doesn’t last forever 🥺 thank you so much for taking the time to send such encouraging words my way Lily I will always appreciate you my dear!!! 😭❤️

[feline-evil]

It wasn't funny at the time but looking back on it man it is genuinely hilarious how my first attempt at getting diagnosed and getting help with my mental illnessess went.

So imagine if you will the skinniest, most unwell, sleepless looking 18 year old, just real Victorian orphan vibes with permanent shakes and a penchant for passing out in fear if he so much as thinks of leaving the house. I need you to know that's the kind of state i was in when i walked into a doctors office to see one of the oldest men i've ever seen in an employed field. He sits me down and asks me what's wrong, he's the GP at my local doctors; that's a general practitioner, if you're outside of the UK maybe that's not a familiar term. Anyway he's not a psychologist, you don't get to see a psychologist unless your GP refers you! Anyway he asks me whats wrong and i explain to him my long list of debilitating anxiety symptoms, i tell him about not being able to eat or sleep or leave the house; i'm in a bad way at this point in my life, it's not a good time for young jay! Lad doesn't even know he's a man yet! Pretty bad time all round!

And so after i explain to him the situation we get our first of the many funny 'i'm not sure this man is qualified to have this conversation' red flags.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Uh oh.

Well no, sir, on account of the not leaving the house socialisation has been tricky, see?

"Oh you need a boyfriend and some friends, that'll help love :)"

Uh oh.

It is at this point in the appointment we are winding down towards the end of my time here at the doctors, and our next big ol' waving red flag hits like a jet liner. And this ones the big one, the one that gives me reason to tell this story and watch people look a mite aghast.

The GP laughs, claps a hand on my shoulder and says "well don't you worry, we won't be locking you up for this one!"

I freeze in shock.

What did this man just say.

Now, i don't wish to imply that this wouldn't be a horrifying thing to say to a different teen riddled with severe mental illness who didn't have a family history of relatives being admitted to psychiatric institutes, but i am suggesting that MAYHAPS. JUST POTENTIALLY. That was a slightly more horrifying sentence to come out of a medical professionals mouth to someone who has that as a family history in his own living memory! So i lock up in horror, alarms blaring in my mind, wondering how the fuck i'm going to politely and finitely end this conversation and meeting and leave vowing never to cross this mans path again in my life; but i don't get much time to ponder what to do, because here comes the final red flag, that second jet liner crashing right in, the final can of petrol being poured on the burning wreck that is the first appointment i have ever made to talk about my mental health.

This man, a complete stranger, i had never met this GP before in my life, hugs me. It is so uncomfortable, i would not say i am the most comfortable with physical contact from strangers even now nearly ten years later, but then? At age eighteen? This is just about the worst thing that could've happened in my eyes! I do not come from a family that hugs, i didn't not know how to hug back then, in that moment it's awkward and weird and i just freeze and wait for it to end, and then i leave the room with the GP beaming and waving after me like he's just performed a miracle and i'll forever be cured from this point on.

I walk to my mom waiting for me in the waiting room, she smiles and gives me a thumbs up.

GENUINELY it couldn't have gone worse, objectively the funniest awful situation i have ever been in.

[golden28s]

this is my personal experience and how i feel so maybe i am absolutely projecting this on him but what if mickey felt guilty for having to keep ian as a secret.

as i said this is just my personal experience and it's something i think about a lot, i'm bisexual but when it comes to my family and im the closet yet and i haven't came out to them because they're basically biphobic and think bisexuality is a phase, is promiscuity like they even think queer people are "too loud" and "too proud". i just know they would look at me differently and keep making shitty comments so for my mental health i haven't came out to them. and it's so sad but i don't even think about having a girlfriend, it's not even a possibility because what kind of relationship would be that if i would have to say that she's my friend? i would be forcing someone that is probably already comfortably out of the closet to be there with me and i feel like that's not entirely fair.

and maybe mickey felt the same. even if the extreme fear made him say things and act like ian wasn't that important to him, he might felt like that somewhere deep inside him. he probably felt guilty for not being able to have an actual relationship with him, for having to hide and be a secret. this might be why he couldn't be more proud and loud about ian once he came out of the closet and why he was so determined to take care of ian, their relationship and make it last.

im absolutely projecting stuff on him but I wouldn't be surprised he ever felt like that even for a moment, the closet can be that fucking awful sometimes even if you're there for your own safety.

[piwo-zero]

So I've recently accepted the fact that I'm aromantic, and I would like to talk about the process of it. I really hope this helps some of u to accept and love urself for being urself and also in process of searching ur identity:))

Accepting you are aromantic is hard. Like really, really hard. I've never really thought about romance when I was young and often said that I hate romance as a movie or a book genre. Then the moment when my friends started getting crushes came. And I was like. Not feeling anything. But I thought to myself that it's just not my time and that this moment will come for me later. And then high school started and I befriended this one guy (let's call him Paul) and swear to god I actually thought it was friendship (well it was from my side)!! But people around me asked me if me and Paul are dating so I started to question myself whethe I was or wasn't feeling sth romantic towards him. So we actually started dating and it was fucking awful. It was also the first time I've started asking my sexuality (I was like?? Am I a lesbian?? Or maybe asexual?? (I haven't heard about arospec yet)). Like I remember how awful holding hands and him hugging me felt. And we kissed like once? And I despised it. So yeah. It lasted 3 weeks and I ended it.

I came out as pansexual few months after that. It never really felt right and I had wordsl asexual somewhere in the back of my mind. I was reading so much smut fanfiction and had a lot of fictional crushes at the time so I thought to myself that I can't be ace. I tried to act as a alloromantic. I tried to force myself to have crushes on people. I went on dates couple of times. It never worked out and felt wrong.

My dating experience always went like this:

I choose sb aesthetically pleasing/with the same humour/interests as me

I try to flirt with them

we go on a date(s)

I'm grossed out by hands touching, kisses etc but force myself to do it bc it's what society demands

I start to question what exactly is the difference between them and my friends

I tell them it won't work out

we go our separate ways

I was acting like this for three years, during wich I learned about arospec and also started working on my mental health. However admitting to myself that romantic relationships may not be for me was really hard. Actually it was so hard that I convinced myself that I'm like that because of my issues with mental health and past trauma (I struggle a lot with abandonment). And then I watched Good Will Hunting and related to the main character a lot and was like well I should stop running away from intimacy and commitment. So I forced myself to start relationship with this one guy (let's call him Adam). He actually was really understanding about boundaries and everything but I still forced myself to do romantic-relationship-connected things with him. We were together for like a month but our like talking & going on dates stage was a few months long. I remember thinking to myself sth along the lines of "You can be in relationship, see? So you are normal after all." It was like me being able to form romantic relationship was connected to my worth as a person. But dating him felt weird and uncomfortable. So me and Adam broke up but this time I actually came out as aroace lesbian.

I'm happy in my identity now and I think I'm going to form some kind of queer undefined non-romantic relationship in the future, if I find someone who understands me. I'm happy as an aroace autistic agender lesbian and just don't care anymore about amatonormativity bullshit.

[ruledbyrarity]

The year's over, and some of my life with it. So, here's my lengthy cryptical rant and a sketch dump.

enjoy! 🦄

I jumped in the river and what did I see? (52403202/encrypted love)

there are a lot of things that I complained about that happened in 2023... but Jesus fucking Christ, I had no idea it could get MUCH worse

??????!!!!!!

Both my mental and physical health got to a new low. I was really afraid and paranoid that I was developing a mortal disease and that I could die. Not to mention that I got my first anxiety attacks. Yay!

Multiple doctor appointments, lots of medicine, a change of pace, ALWAYS feeling unrest, weird shakiness, weakness and two episodes that interfered in the worst moment, at the worst place that I know.

I thank my friends and family for bearing with me and supporting me during the whole process of those awful moments. It really means everything to me.

The side character snaps back to reality. (52014202/wake up)

I walked in a record store, escaping from the traffic, collective stress and a loud storm at a busy street in Tokyo, with a headache and starving. There's still one hour more to go. I just want some food and rest. But then again, I've lost the plot.

A pink-haired anime character is yelling and cursing at the cashier, with such speed and rage you'd think they're to be accounted for murder. There's a bag full of limited-edition CDs and books by her side.

I was kicked out for asking.

A little bit of banana, a little lot of magic (13014202/silent violence)

Unread messages (1)

my 2020-self would've never thought he'd find a star the difference is that there is no light, not any magic.

I'm stranded in a desert beach and the sad news is that I'm not 15 anymore and that there are no dimensional scissors to break out of here

there'll be no freeze day no realm of magic to behave childishly under the gold-coloured waterfalls

maybe I'm the one doing this to myself? me and no one else?

I was going to play my metal tapes this time.

good heavens, do you deserve to go through my deck?

just so you can toss 'em and make an ocean out of a glass of water?

holy fuck.

the dedication and admiration. shameless fucking much?

I used to spin the clam, swimming with the weird fishes now all I'm hearing is thumping baselines, filled with rage.

my god.

Where do we go from here? (62114240/black star, dead star)

I guess that, in a way, it's shocking to find out that not much has changed in over 7 fucking years. It's fascinating to witness the potential of hollow pixels to fuck and twist and bend our minds.

Therefore, you become part of the stage. All of you have been through it; visual representations, lyrics, music, or just writings, you name it. Although maybe this time I find quite frustrating the fact that there's not such a big depiction as there was a long time ago.

Looking into my archives from that period time, I made a whole episode for my old animated series, completely fucking up the canon I had written for my characters, just to speak my mind, sort of.

And the thing is, I even had planned something more back then. A whole musical. It is surprising to know that I was trying to conceive such piece since that long ago.

we don't know what tomorrow brings... (I'm gonna be alright)

At the end of everything, that's what I take from all this mess. The inspiration to create something. Because despite the nature of the script and history itself, I enjoyed making that episode. As I am enjoying creating little art pieces here and there to liberate myself.

That includes music, of course. I recorded a few demos for three ideas that I came up with during these last couple of months. And so far, I'm liking the last one better than the rest.

Sounds really good, even if it can get a bit cheesy. The melodies can just go on and on. I think of underwater creatures and warm sunsets when I play it on my guitar.

It doesn't have a name yet, even though I keep calling it "the Aurora song", because it sounds like one of her songs... I've been listening to her wonderful music a lot lol

But still, if I'm asked how I'm feeling, I'll mention "You Know Me!" and "Just Eyes and Mouth" by The Smile.

strike up the tinderbox... why should I be good if you're not?

I can only hope that, one day...

You'll come to your good senses and realise your actions and words.

To understand.

But I'm afraid that my hopes are not even that high. I'm setting such a low bar here, because, honestly, it's all I can set at this point.

In the meantime...

happy holidays and happy new year 2025 <3

much love,

Pearly*

[bekindtoyou4007]

Tummy problems again. I've had to use medicine this afternoon and it felt very uncomfortable with stomach spasms. Managed to get a lot of life admin done today, finally returned 2 packages which have been looming on my to do list for genuinely about 4 months or so. I had a truly awful spike of anxiety yesterday at about 4am, woke up truly terrified and wide awake. A beta blocker really helped calm me down. It was a lot, I can only assume I had a bad dream or something triggered me. I also had a period of time off exercise because of weekend festivities which, unfortunately, does seem to make me feel worse mentally. I'm going to have to hit the gym tomorrow. I'm glad I was able to have a massage recently, and luckily it didn't feel too terrible though. I think a lot of my aches and pains have been resolved with weight loss plus regular exercise tbh. I'm not sure I like my new hair style but that could be because I went too short, or maybe it's just an issue with how I'm styling it. I can tell I've been upset lately by stuff about M's illness, I think that's been made worse too by my cbd freak out last week and being so exposed in media to serious mental health issues. I am glad there's higher awareness and things like that but it does sort of feel like I'm over exposed in this moment. It's upsetting that my last book had that as such a serious theme, perhaps I should have guessed but I didn't know. I still haven't booked to visit the bio parents yet this year. I think I'm struggling with the thought of visiting and seeing her in another facility again. It feels like it takes so much out of me, even if there isn't a major incident during the visit. The last time I saw M she was in a really bad way. I worry I'm being a coward though. And then worry I'm just bullying myself into spending more direct time with someone I feel generally pretty negatively about due to powerful programming about obligation. I do think I could probably find a way to make it nice for myself. I am good at things like that.

[moonrevolutions]

🌏 EARTH

°✩₊˚.⋆ anonymous. meme. still accepting!

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

virote's of two minds with this. first off..... it sounds romantic to him, giving up something and sacrificing just for someone he loves. on the other hand, it doesn't sound sustainable or the right way to navigate interpersonal relationships, whether they be familial, platonic, romantic, etc etc etc. he's very willing to compromise though. virote's always going to gravitate towards the concept of compromise, because give the whole ' i would give up the world for you ' concept leaves a bad taste in his mouth. it's dramatic, it's too much, he's unwilling to believe actual adults think this way.

also context i guess... sometimes ppl use the term ' sacrifice ' all loosey-goosey when they really mean ' compromise ' or maybe even just simply dealing with change. like calling something a sacrifice because they dont want to do it doesnt make it a sacrifice, nor does a sacrifice mean changing unsavory behaviors or awful habits. caring for someone you love when they're ill or downtrodden? not a sacrifice... that's just love.

but the moment it starts costing him his mental, spiritual, and physical well-being + makes him not feel very good, that's when it's time to put the brakes on. because he's not over-extending himself like that. sometimes it's necessary to make compromise of time, wants and things, but never your values, overall health, or dignity... or ur entire life in general.. or well that's how he rolls.

anyway. if he has to think about any relationship in terms of loss and gain, that's gonna make him step back and re-evaluate the entire thing. at that point it doesnt even seem like a relationship worth keeping, no matter who they are. because he has to prioritize himself too. he has more than one person in this world that he loves. what about them? he can't break himself off for everyone. its alllll about fairness i guess.

it's funny because he does make little sacrifices of himself every day. masking his emotions so that no one sees how shitty he feels, because he doesn't want to worry anyone or he feels like no one will really understand. that's a cycle he's trying to break because it's really self-destructive; at the same time, he's yet to find himself in a comfortable enough spot with more than like one person to fully feel his own emotions in a space reserved for him. he doesn't feel particularly safe with anyone.

anyway it's not a black-white issue and there's a lot of nuances i'm too tired to rly get into so i'll just leave it at this text post i reblogged a few months back for vi's about tag:

sacrifice is a hollow sentiment we shouldn’t have to hurt and be in pain when we want to practice love did you know that

thx 4 comin 2 my tedtalk.

[finelinevogue]

the fact that Y/N has post natal depression Is somewhat refreshing idk I just don't see it talked about much on here and if it is it's like Hella angsty and the partner doesn't understand what it is but I was wondering if u could touch on it a bit more cause it's something I'm really scared about happening to me and I just want harry to hold me and tell me it's going be okay 😚😚😚😚

P.s. if u don't wanna it's understandable

anon: can u write about harry helping y/n through her ppd maybe like the 3rd time was so bad that h decide that he won’t be having more children

so this was requested twice so i would love to be able to write this for you both, hope this is okay - mind it’s heavily angsty!;

tw: vomiting, ppd and od

oli - 4, felix - 3, belle - 12 weeks

Motherhood was really fucking hard.

The birth of your newly born daughter, Isabella, had really taken a back pedal on your mental health. You had suffered with post natal depression after the birth of your two sons, but nothing as bad as this.

It had hit you around the 7 week mark after giving birth. The pregnancy itself was okay, even though she was slightly premature, but it was after you’d taken her home that it’d all spiralled downhill. It started with complications with her breastfeeding - like she was rejecting the milk that you had produced. It hurt to see her reject you and your body, finding more comfort in drinking from a pre-made milk bottle as her dad rocked her to sleep. You recall the evening so clearly and felt like an utter failure as you watched her drink a bottle of formula for the first time.

“Ssh ssh,” Harry cooed to your 7 week old daughter as he rocked her in his arms on the rocking chair in her nursery. She was whining because she was hungry, but the problem was that she wasn’t accepting your milk. She hadn’t been accepting your milk all day and now it was becoming dangerous for you to keep on saying ‘Oh i’ll just try later.’ Harry had told you to make a formula bottle for her. “Mummy’s coming.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you were walking back to the nursery with a warm bottle in your hands. You’d tested it on your hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot and then taken a sip to taste it, out of jealousy, and you thought that it didn’t taste any different to you. Then again you’re not a 7 week old human whose only date is milk.

“Look here’s mummy with your yummy milk, okay? Look Belles!” Harry cooed at his darling angel and you only wished he wasn’t as happy for her as he was.

“Yeah.” You spoke softly, handing him the bottle and standing nearby, part of you hoping that she would reject this too and she wasn’t just rejecting you.

But no, she drank the formula like it was her last meal.

“Such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” Harry praised her, watching her in awe as she kept on drinking the formula. Watching as she was drinking to become the strong girl you knew she’d become. It just hurt that it wasn’t you that could help her become that.

You felt powerless. Worthless, even. The one thing that you had carried the weight of your breasts around to do and you couldn’t even do it. Your nipples were so sore and your breasts ached so badly and it was all for nothing. Perhaps it was punishment for being such a bad mum. Perhaps you’d never been good enough for this job and it was your bodies way of shutting you down forever. You wouldn’t need the ability to produce milk anymore, because you weren’t worth the title of becoming one again. You wanted to be happy for your little one, seeing her happy but all you felt was rejection and sadness. She didn’t think you were good enough to be her mum and that really hurt.

Along with the breastmilk problem, Belle also became very stubborn when you wanted to change her nappy. Anytime you tried to change and help her she put up a fuss, kicking her legs and sometimes she would bite or hit you away. It was just a reminder that you weren’t a good enough mum for her and that she didn’t feel safe enough around you. She didn’t find comfort in your presence and she was so fussy about what you did around her. With Harry, though, she was an angel. She loved him so much and obviously he made her feel so loved and safe - something you’d clearly never be able to give her.

There was also the chores of being a mother to your other two sons too. Oli and Felix were old enough to understand that they had a baby sister, but they weren’t old enough to understand how miserable you were. Harry wasn’t even able to figure it out yet. You tried your best to put on your bravest face, knowing that your family needed you to be strong but the truth was that you were crumbling on the inside. You were feeling less and less like yourself and you were waiting for the moment when you’d completely fall apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Everything was just numb.

“You two boys okay?”

You walked into the children’s playroom see that they were sat at the little table colouring in. Felix’s little legs dangled slightly, whereas Oli’s legs touched the floor and it made your heart swell at how big they were both getting.

“Yep!” Oli cheered, scribbling with his left hand as his tiny tongue stuck out from his lips as he concentrated - a habit passed onto him from his father.

“What are you both drawing?” You asked, coming over and kneeling on the floor beside them and having a peek at their drawings.

“We’re colouring for daddy.” Felix answered, some of the words not being pronounced properly due to his young lisp and lack of being taught how to say things correctly yet.

His words stung though. You appreciated that he was only a toddler and he meant nothing evil or malicious by it, but it hurt to think that maybe, just maybe, your sons were doing this for their dad because he did so much more for them than you did. Of course you tried to be the best mum you could, but maybe you weren’t doing enough. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mum after all, or at least not a good one.

“O-oh,” you tried to hold back the tears in your eyes because your boys looked so proud at their artwork - and you should be too. “Tell me about them then, my loves.”

Oli went first, “So this is me and this is Oli and this is dad. It’s us playing football like we did the other day, mummy.” He pointed out to each of the figures, some looking actually quite terrifying but you’d never have the heart to tell him that. The figures were all holding hands though and it hurt to think that you weren’t a part of that.

“Oh that’s so good Ols!” you rubbed his head of hair and then turned to Felix’s, “What about you Fix?”

“I drew daddy as the best.” He pointed to a trophy that the figure - more like a stick-man-slenderman - was holding, which was decorated with the award of ‘my hero’.

“I told him to write hero, mummy.” Oli added, and you smiled at both of them.

“Well done. Good job both of you. Daddy will love these!” You only wished that they would draw something for you. You hated to think that you were being petty, but honestly you just wanted to feel loved. “Shall I go cut up some apple for a snack, hey?” You asked, trying to feel useful.

“Daddy is making us smoothies!” Felix answered and you had to stand up, up and away from their heigh, so they didn’t catch the tears in your eyes.

“Okay! Don’t forget to give him those pictures - he’ll love those.” You praised them and they both giggled to each other.

The sight of your sons laughing should’ve made you so happy, but it only reminded you that you weren’t the source of their happiness. You weren’t on their mind enough to be their inspiration for drawings. You definitely weren’t their hero. You were just a woman to them, not a mum. You wanted to be so much more but it was clear that they didn’t need you. They were loved by their dad and each other, not in need of your heart.

Eventually Belle settled down and was sleeping better through the night, leaving you and Harry to much more peaceful nights sleep. Well, just Harry.

You had found it near impossible to get to sleep now. You lay awake at night wondering when Belle would next wake up, wondering when she’d next need you. Harry was always quick out of bed though, even if he actually was sleeping, to help her ordering you to stay in bed and rest yourself. You couldn’t help feel like he was telling you to stay put because he knew you wouldn’t be able to do your job properly - and you started to believe him.

You’d found yourself getting jealous of those that could get to sleep. When you were walking down the road you’d judge a person by how much sleep they looked like they got last night. You definitely looked like you only had 2 hours - even when you’d only had 37 minutes but who’s counting? Your dark circles were heavily noticeable, but no one cared enough to ask. Even Harry stayed clear of you more and more often; spending more time with the kids than you and sleeping on his side of the bed instead of yours at nighttime.

There had been one evening where you had been so restless that Harry had gotten so frustrated and left the room, with a blanket and a pillow, and slept on the couch. You’d never felt so much like a burden than that night. Your family was rejecting you and you felt like a failure. You were a success at failing in everything. The meals you cooked went half eaten by everyone because you would’ve forgotten to add a key ingredient. The children preferred to spend more time playing with their dad because you weren’t energised enough to play the games they wanted to. Your daughter still rejected your milk. It was all too much and you just wanted one nights peace for it to change.

Last night had been that night.

Fuck these were so addicting. You were finally getting the sleep that you so badly craved, only with the help of tablets.

You wanted the sleep because that was the one place you could escape to. You needed that escape to help you get out of bed the next morning. Life was too hard for you to not dream, and without dreaming you didn’t want life.

It started off with taking one every night before bed, but then they stopped working again, so you started taking two, then three. Four was obviously where your body hit its limit.

“Mummy? Can you come tuck me in please?” Oli asked, little toy giraffe in hand and shaking you in hopes of waking you up to send him peacefully off to sleep.

You’d gone to bed a bit earlier tonight, lying saying that you were extremely exhausted. Harry said he would be able to handle things and that’s when you excitedly ran upstairs to take your pills; 4 of them. You’d made it into your bed, feeling slightly drowsy after completing your nighttime routine, but then you started to feel unwell and really ill. Before you’d passed out you’d stuck your fingers down your throat in hopes to make the feeling in your stomach disappear, but it ended up you throwing up all over the bed and pass out right there.

“Mummy! Wake up!” Oli rattled your back, but you were still unresponsive.

Oli padded out of the room and down to his sisters room where he knew his dad was. Belle was being extra fussy this evening and Harry suspected it had everything to do with you retiring early. He heard Oli come into the room just as he’d gotten Belle down.

“Y’alright buddy?” Harry whispered, tip-toeing out of Belle’s room, leaving the door open slightly, and crouched down in front of him.

“No. Mummy’s not waking up.” Oli pouted, rubbing a tired fist over his eye.

“She’s probably in dreamland, bud. She was really tired today.”

“She’s really tired all of the times.”

“I know, Ol.” Because Harry did know, but he was too much of a coward to face up to the problem. The doctors had said that post natal depression can strengthen with every birthed child, but he was too blind sighted by the fact that you’d overcome the first birthed post natal depression so quickly, and was so in love with his baby girl, that he didn’t truly see how bad things had gotten. Harry had tried giving you some space, distancing himself from you in bed and spending more time with the kids so you could relax and rest up, but nothing seemed to be working. He was surprised, actually, that you’d been having better sleep recently and so was hopeful that maybe the worst of the depression was over.

Hell, was he so wrong.

“Go to bed, bud okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Wake mummy up so she can give me a kiss.”

“I’ll try little man, alright?” Harry scuffed his sons hair and then watched him walk off to his room.

Harry walked into your dark room, the air smelling slightly sour, and walked around to your side of the bed. He sat down next to you sighed heavily. He needed to speak to you, no matter how tired or angry you’d be with him. He was losing you as a wife and a mother and a soulmate and a lover. He was just losing you, just as you were losing yourself and he was doing tip-toeing around the problem any longer. He was going to try and make this better. He was going to better understand how you were feeling in order to help you.

“Baby?” He spoke softly, nudging you gently, “Baby wake up.” No response. “Y/N, my love? Wake up for me darling, need to speak with you.” Normally you would’ve stirred by now but there was still nothing. “Y/N?” Harry shook you a bit more urgently now - one that would surely wake even the deepest of sleepers. “Y/N!” He shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly for the comfort of his children.

He turned you over and that’s when he knew this was very, very, bad.

Your face was pale grey and your mouth was covered in the remains of vomit, and he suddenly understood the gross sour smell from before. Your hair was greasy and stuck all in the wet sick all over your face. Your eyes were puffy from the remains of tears. You looked dead.

“No, no, no. Y/N! No you don’t.” Harry’s eyes starting weeping and he couldn’t think straight. He checked your pulse on your wrist and timed it - it was unhealthily faint. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were in your last beats of your heart. His tears and sobs were uncontrollable, but he had to be both strong for you and his children, as well as for him. “Fuck sake pull yourself together Harry. Okay, baby hold on please. Okay? You don’t get to leave me like this, you hear me? I love you so much, baby. Fuck i’m so sorry.” He gently placed your head back down on the pillow and pulled out his phone.

999

“What’s your emergency?”

“I need a-an ambulance p-please. I-I think my wife i-is dying.”

The rest of it was a blur for Harry. Him trying to wake you up. The ambulance arriving. Oli and Felix crying when they saw you being carried away on a stretcher. Belle’s deafening screams. Harry’s heart beating for the both of you.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It was the rhythmic beeping sounds that woke you up.

Your whole body felt achey and sore, your head a pounding mess. You opened your eyes slowly, adjusting them to the light of the room. You expected to see the family photo on the wall opposite you and the white of your curtains, but you were met with a heart-monitor machine and a hospital bed instead. You looked down at your body and noticed a cannula in your arm, making you squirm because you hated stuff like that so much. Your nose had a tube running inside it too, feeding you the oxygen your lungs weren’t receiving properly.

It then dawned on you how you weren’t in the room alone. You saw a sleeping Anne and Gemma on the chairs in the far corner, with Felix and Oli tucked against their sides - Anne with Oli and Felix with Gemma. It was so cute to see them so cuddled up close. They looked peaceful. You took note of the baby pram that was at the end of your bed, most likely playing bed to your beautiful daughter. Your mind felt lost. You can’t really remember what had happened, apart from taking four of those sleeping pills. You fully remember the weight of feeling worthless and useless as both a mum and a wife, though, and that feeling was still very prominent.

Your eyes lastly landed to the side of you, where Harry was sat but also laid on your bed. The top of half of his body laid upon the bed, his head buried onto this arm deep within the bed, whilst his bottom stayed rooted to the chair. His hand was holding yours tightly, which was a sign that he wasn’t asleep. You were so scared to face him though. You had failed him, again and again and you weren’t sure whether you could be enough for him anymore. Enough for your family anymore.

You squeezed his hand three times saying ‘I love you.’

“Y/N,” He whispered so hoarsely, but you were so focused on him to even catch it. He looked ruined, and you’d done that to him. His eyes were dark and tired, but also red and puffy from where he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and you could tell it hadn’t been washed in a while. How long had you been out for? You felt rested in your sleep, but not in your mind or your heart.

“I—” Your breathe got caught in your throat, but you persevered to finish your words. He deserved to here them. “I’m sorry.” You were whispering so you didn’t disturb anyone else in the room.

“No, stop it. I’m sorry baby.”

“Harry don’t, you don’t have anyt—”

“Stop yes I do I—”

“Harry please you don’t owe—”

“Y/N listen!” He cut the little volley-conversation and ordered you to just stop. You started crying when you saw that he was too. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now. Because I love you. Fuck, I do. I love you so much that when I found you unconscious in a pile of your own sick thinking you were dead, my only thought was that I wished it were me instead”.

“Harry, you don’t mean—”

“My god Y/N! You don’t get it, do you? I would do anything to switch places with you right now. I would suffer a thousand times over if it meant you were okay. I’d suffer in hell for you. Nobody else but you has ever made me feel like this. I married you because I love you and I want to wake up next to you every day of my beating hearts life. I chose to have children with you, because I knew how great of a mum you’d be and what beautiful people you’d help bring up into the world—”

“But i’m not.” You cut Harry short, trying to pull your hand away from him but he didn’t let you - only tightening his grip and pulling himself closer towards you. He was so close you could kiss him.

“Not what?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You’d both had this conversation before, but you were both tired of it and were ready for it to be your last now.

“A good mum. I’m- i’m not a good mum or wife, Harry and i’m sorry.”

“I told you not say it and stop thinking it, because you’re completely wrong Y/N. You’re a good mother and a good wife, because you are a good person.”

“But i’m not great.” You whimpered, thinking back to the drawings your Oli and Felix had done. “I’m not the best.”

“But you don’t have to be, baby. You see our beautiful, healthy, happy and safe babies over there?” Harry turned to look at them, love in his eyes as in yours. “They wouldn’t be all those things, no matter how you feel about yourself, without you. I could never have brought them up to be half the people they are without you by my side, the way you make me a better person. You claim you don’t got this, but baby you’re already doing it and have been doing it for 5 years with our children and so much longer with me.”

“I’m just so fucked up Harry.” Your head tilted back on the pillow as you got heavily emotional over the situation.

Harry shook his head and moved his hand to cup the back of your neck, moving your head forwards until it met his. The touch of his skin against yours, no matter where and how small, made you feel alive and you’d missed him and that feeling so much. You missed loving him so much.

“Listen to me.” He ordered, keeping you still. “You are strong and you are brave Y/N Styles. No matter what you tell yourself I will be here every goddamn day of my life, if I have to, to remind you that you are worth more than your fucking weight in gold. You are my heart. You are my soul and the mother to my greatest achievements. I know they are yours too, just as I know I am your heart.

“You are.” You whispered so quietly under your breathe, but Harrys heart warmed when he caught you saying it. He knew though.

“Just let me love you. Let me be there for you. If you want medication then let’s do it, and i’ll be there for every step of the way. If you want to go to a rehabilitation centre for a bit, that’s okay we can—”

You shook your head and licked the tears away from your face. You were both such tearful messes, but the love between you was undeniable. “No, no please, no.”

“Okay, okay, love. We won’t. See, you’re okay. I promise, you’re okay. Stay with me, yeah? I’ll love you and keep you safe, just as you will me.”

“Promise.” You told him sincerely. He brought his lips to yours with that single word. He was so proud of your for being so brave and strong. He wishes he was half the person you were. His lips conveyed those thoughts of his and you could taste the love and passion burning through his heart and out on to his lips. He tasted like home. z he was home. Your lips smacked together messily, but you didn’t care because you loved each other too much and had kissed each other even more. Once you pulled back he stayed close to you, smiling at you with such awe. “I think.. I think I want to try medication please.”

Harry didn’t say ‘okay’ or ‘sure thing’, no. He said four words that meant more to you in that moment that any others in the universe. More than saying ‘I love you.’ Words that reminded you that not everything is okay and that sucks really bad, but you’re doing your best to get through it. It was a reminder that you had so many people who loved you and cared for you. It was a gun at the starting line symbolising that the journey ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but worth it.

“I’m proud of you.”

[katesbridgerton]

About mattfoggy prompts, could you do something about Matt having a mental breakdown after season 3, kind of exploding after everything that happened throughout the show and Foggy being there for him, please? I feel like the series showed us Matt's poor mental health and Foggy's worry, but separately. It didn't necessarily give us enough moments with both of those elements together. I don't how if that's your kind of story, if it's not it's totally okay though. 😊

Hi! Thank you so much for sending a mattfoggy prompt 🥺 I hope I don't let you down and you enjoy this one. I'm still watching Season Two, so please forgive me if I wrote something incorrectly.

Chemicals. Gunshot. Orphanage. Stick. Loud. Foggy. College. Elektra. Pain. Foggy. Karen. Daredevil. Fisk. Bruises. Cuts. Claire. Foggy. Frank. Karen. Elektra. Daredevil. A building collapsing. Foggy. Loneliness. Fear. Fisk. Threats. Foggy.

He slides down the wall, containing a screaming in the back of his throat while sitting on the floor. The tears are falling slowly, almost like he's in a movie — one of the many that Foggy has described to him over the years — and it's the worst part of it. When the protagonist is suffering the most, the happy ending usually follows it, but he's almost sure Matthew Murdock will never get one. He closes his eyes, his right fingers immediately go to his left hand, touching his ring finger, the wedding band is there. It has been there since the day he got it.

Matt is not stupid, he knows he's having a panic attack, he has had many of them over the years. A result of his anxiety and depression. He knows. But doing something about it requires a strength that he doesn't have. Not yet.

His senses are not working (again, just like they weren't after he got shot by Castle years ago), he brings his legs close to his chest and hugs them, making himself as small as he can.

Matt remembers so vividly the times he saw the other man hurting because of him, the times he couldn't protect him, the countless times Matt felt lonely without him. He remembers everything and it's just like he's being beaten up. Without the suit. By his own mind.

"Baby?" A pair of warm hands cup his face; Matt is caught by surprise, because he didn’t smell the cologne, didn't hear the steps. But he knows those hands, the ones that have guided him through life, the ones that- he closes his eyes, focusing really hard on the gold that he should be feeling against his left cheek. He isn't. It's not there. He tries to listen to the heartbeats, but he's unable to. He's completely in the dark. "Let's go to the couch, c'mon."

"I can't," move.

Foggy sits in front of him. He rests his hand on Matt's knees.

"We need to address the elephant in the room, you know," Foggy whispers.

"You, not wearing your wedding ring after coming back from a meeting with Marci? That would be great," he tries not to sound childish, bitter, or jealous. He fails.

"No, Matty," Foggy says seriously. "We need to talk about your untreated mental health. You know I'm here. You know I'm always going to be, but I'm not a doctor."

Matt laughs sarcastically and stands up. Foggy stands too. He knows Foggy is going to leave him. Why is Foggy worried? He walks towards the couch and throws himself on it.

"Listen," he breathes. "You know where the door is."

"What the hell are you talking about? Matt, you're self-sabotaging. Can you please tell me why I would leave my husband?"

"Maybe Marci knows."

Foggy takes a seat next to him.

"I fucking broke up with Marci six months before our wedding because you told me how you felt," he picks Matt's left hand. "I put a ring on your finger. I married you. I love you. So I'll ask again: what the hell are you talking about?"

Matt wants to read the room. He still can't. He bites his lower lip and allows Foggy to pull him close. Matt's head is resting on his chest, he's curled up in Foggy's warm embrace. He's feeling awful. But at least now he can listen to Foggy's heart. His husband is not lying. How could he ever doubt him? Because Matt is a piece of shit, that's why.

"Because you're having a panic attack, that's why," Foggy says, and Matt wonders if he said the words out loud. "I know you better than you think. Can you tell me what triggered it? Do you even know?"

"I don't, but by your tone, you do."

"Everything is alright. No problems. You started to think about the old ones. Am I right?"

"Did you change professions?" He tries to joke, but he's still far from being okay, so it sounds more like he's upset about the possibility.

"Am I right?" Foggy insists. Same voice he uses when he's defending a client.

"It was just so much. And I think I never processed all the things. Especially our miscommunication and the times I let you down," he admits, hiding his face on Foggy's shirt. "And you're not wearing your wedding ring."

Foggy laughs softly, before kissing Matt's messy hair.

"Did you lose your super senses?"

"They usually don't work very well when I'm in the middle of a panic attack," Matt says, feeling Foggy's hand on his back, pulling him even closer. Foggy is worried. That's good. Not the part that Foggy is worried. The part where his senses are coming back. "It never happens when I'm in the suit, don't worry. Daredevil doesn't have time for this. Matt apparently does."

"You have to go to therapy."

"And say what? Are you crazy?"

"Matt, again, you have a lot of people who love you. Who are more than willing to help. None of us can give you medical advice. Plus, doctor-patient confidentiality. Like a contract. We can make them sign an NDA if you want. We can find a way, you just need to want."

"The ring?"

"Bathroom counter. Someone was bothering Marci, so I rescued her saying she was my girlfriend. It wouldn’t work with a wedding ring."

"You're a good man, Foggy," he kisses his husband, and Foggy must have felt Matt's neediness and pain because he pulls him to a kiss that makes Matt remember what the stars look like.

Foggy is a very passionate man, but Matt is still surprised when it's directed to him. He shouldn't. They're married. He has savored several kisses like that.

"Come back to me," Foggy says quietly, against his lips. "Let's try not to overthink more than we can today"

Foggy's heart is racing, he's starting to sweat even with the air conditioner on. He's worried about Matt having a panic attack when he's on the streets fighting.

"I'm going to call you straight away if it ever happens, Mr. Nelson-Murdock," Matt promises. "You can trust me. And I'm going to therapy. Maybe Claire knows someone?"

"Maybe she does.”

The city is coming back to him, a child crying on the third floor, a couple fighting on the fourth, the restaurant down the street making french fries.

"No! Not tonight," he hides his face in the crook of Foggy's neck. "Tonight I want to be here. Grounded. Yours. Not Daredevil. Just Matthew Nelson-Murdock with his husband."

"Should I be worried or relieved that you separated yourself from Daredevil two times tonight?"

"You make things easier. You love Matt and Matt-"

"Is Daredevil. Therefore I love that asshole who takes you away from home sometimes and makes you get hurt. But damn, I'm glad that you want to stay here tonight. It's not like I was going to let you leave anyway, but it's good that it's your choice too."

Matt smiles, closing his eyes. The city can wait for him. His mental health can't, and he knows Foggy is going to be by his side every step of the way. He always was. Always going to be.

Foggy Nelson is not only his husband, the man he has been in love with since college, his partner. Foggy is his heaven.