#mental illness tuesday i guess

[bingobongobonko]

i need things to get easier but it wont get better if i dont do anything so i need to do MORE but i barely have the energy to get up in the morning besides to walk the dogs and make sure they've had breakfast and cook at home and clean and FUUUUUCK! like i KNOW i have to do more, i just. i dont mind what i have NOW but i understand i cant do that. i have to do more and i KNOW that

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[laylaplease]

Warnings — Dead dove - do not eat, psychologist!Anakin x reader, manipulation, coercion, captivity, blindfolding, tying up, drugging, loss of consciousness, both Anakin and reader are mentally ill, scissor play, undressing, dub-con, implied murder, hinted homicide, hinted torture, stalker behavior, implied APD, implied suicide, Stockholm syndrome? Generally a messed-up piece of work.

Word count — 3k

Notes — A small project for my friend. Not something I'd normally write, but I took it as a challenge. Not exactly smut, but it's hinted & characters make out. Make sure to read the warning list and be mindful. Wrote it in a different point of view to make it as gender neutral as possible. NOT PROOFREAD.

After seven visits and a night of consideration, I've come to the conclusion that Doctor Skywalker wasn't the correct mental health specialist for me. And it wasn't because he was bad at his job, no, quite the opposite. Anakin Skywalker was an attractive male in his forties. He never shared details about his personal life, and despite that, he managed to create an impression of a person I've known for months, if not years, of my life.

Anakin scared me. Not intentionally, of course. It was what he's supposed to do — pick up the details of me, the patterns of my brain, my movements, and my involuntary fidgeting. He was a modern mind reader, and I couldn't help but wonder if he's aware of every thought I've had when he sat in front of me, with his legs crossed, glasses hanging on the very tip of his nose, a linen button-up with the last button left free. Could he hear what my inner voice was saying during those stolen stares? The gentle tapping of a fountain pen on his notebook told me he could.

He wasn't the only one digging for specifics, though. His purposeful, secretive behavior made me want to figure him out. As if he were my medical project and not the other way around. I knew that it wasn’t ethical; part of his job was to keep the outside world, including his own, off his patients' brains to avoid influencing them. But I needed to know more. Anakin Skywalker was my psychologist, and I was utterly and entirely obsessed with him. Maybe that's exactly why I should stay in therapy. For one reason or another.

It was Tuesday morning, and I woke up especially early for my supposedly last appointment. I wanted to take a longer way to his office and connect all the pieces of private information my ill brain gathered and processed about Anakin. There were plenty of assumptions, facts I couldn’t know for sure, and guesses about his life that were possibly altered by whatever’s been lurking in my brain. However, I loved the image. In my head, Anakin was divorced. The absence of an expensive stone on his ring finger forced me to come to that conclusion. A glimpse of his phone wallpaper portraying two toddlers told me he was a father of two — a boy and a girl with the same gentle but intense stare he wore. The bundle of keys on his office desk told me the kind of car he drove, how many locks his house had, a keychain of his assumed favorite hockey team hinted at what he enjoys doing in his free time. Oh, and he was a smoker, that’s for sure. You could never miss the smell. No matter how many mints he swallowed before my visits or the scent of soap he used to wash his smoke-stained fingers, the cigarette trace was always obvious. But I didn’t mind it, not one bit. His natural smell mixing with the dirt of an addiction on someone who’s supposed to be an example of a perfect intellectual man was like knowing his dirty secret — it was arousing.

I came fifteen minutes early. My doctor worked on the third floor of a five-story commercial building; it was an environment I deemed to be perfectly suitable for a man such as Anakin. Modern architecture surrounded by enough green to not appear like a dystopian haven. And it was an excellent choice for a psychologist office, initially. Personally, however, I thought it was too perfect. Everything surrounding Anakin was a bit too perfect, from the way he carried himself to the choice of his work spot — it always rubbed it in for me that there are people doing okay, people who aren’t chained with the issues of their own heads, uncaged, people who can enjoy that perfect organic modernist dream.

I was going to spend the punctual sixteen minutes outside on a bench before stepping inside and greeting the doctor with a new wave of depression to discolor some of his lively world; after all, that’s what he’s signed up for. I sat down comfortably, not too far from the main entrance, admiring the surrounding park while judging parents chattering around while their strollers were left unattended near the children’s playground. It was enjoyable to see and possibly figure out the mindset of all the strangers and passersby. I felt like my own kind of psychologist, but I never had any intentions to help the people I marked as dysfunctional in one way or another. I lacked some empathy, yes, but that only made my life easier; I wasn’t as attached to problems that weren’t my own, and I could analyze people without their lives influencing mine. My doctor’s fairytale was unfortunately disturbed by the raspy voice greeting me.

“Good morning. You’re early.” Anakin greeted me with a welcoming yet slightly surprised tone. “I’m glad.” 

The coffee in his hand told me otherwise; I could only assume though, but he probably expected to spend a good ten minutes alone in his office, enjoying the morning with a hot latte and with no bothering from his patients before his workday even started.

“Good morning.” I nod too nonchalantly for my own liking. It was obvious I was forcing the tone, and if someone is to pick on such a small detail — it’s him.

“Let’s go; I don’t mind starting early.” He smiles, and I can once again can tell what a liar he is.

I follow him inside a white-lit lobby area, where he’s greeted by a few people he’s familiar with. He walks with masculine confidence, and I find myself feeling so disgustingly small beside him, small and insignificant. I wonder if he’s ever aware of the effect his demeanor has on people. It pisses me off and excites me further. It’s a case of mental masochism, and I’m a pathetic victim.

After a few second elevator ride, spiced with his initiated small talk, we enter the office. He offers to make me a cup of tea, giving me a choice of peppermint and lavender. I was about to decline when I reminded myself that it was my last time here and that I had never drunk lavender tea before. So I agree, encouraging him to be generous with sugar.

“Can I assume you being oddly early to come means an improvement in your mood?” He asks as he brews my beverage. It’s almost as if he’s not even working yet, not taking notes and analyzing me, but I know it’s just a facade to make me feel more comfortable.

“Perhaps. More so that I don’t think I’ll be visiting anymore.” I confess and go along with his play.

“Can I ask why?” His broad back turns from me, and I’m greeted with his handsome face. There was no hint of confusion or surprise; you would think he'd expected me to say that.

I shrug my shoulders, following his hands as he stirs my tea and pushes a delicate porcelain cup forward. His voice is nice, but I would much rather stare at him than watch his miserable attempts to help me.

“I don’t think therapy is necessary. Not anymore, at least.” I take a sip of a hot lavender drink, my hands taking the cup involuntary to avoid speaking further. The brim touches my lips, and I hiss in pain from the burning liquid. I swear he chuckles at me.

“I would like to continue seeing you.” He crosses his legs and leans back in his chair. The gaze he’s fixed on me, mixed with the weird silence after he stops asking questions, is making my insides squirm with anxiety. It’s never like that around him.

“You see, y/n, you are an interesting case…” Anakin pushes his glasses up with his index finger, rocking his chair slightly. “You’re an obsessive stalker.” He blurts out as a wide grin spreads across his face. “And I dislike misbehaving patients.” His face is becoming more blurry as we speak, and I feel myself sinking into the velvet cushion of an armchair.

Fucking lavender tea...

I couldn’t tell if I was out for days or mere minutes, but I’m pretty sure if the familiar smell of cigarettes hadn't reached my nostrils, I’d still be asleep. I opened my eyes only to be met with a dark cloth concealing my sight. I know I’m still in Anakin’s office because the sensation under my restrained wrists is of the same velvet chair. I remained still, in hopes of figuring out what’s going on. Only one thing was clear: I shouldn’t have came today yet alone drank tea. That's a gut feeling for you. The blindfold is weak around my eyes, and I guess it’s less for hiding the view and more for intimidating me. Good job, doctor.

“Oh?” Anakin gasps mockingly. “You’re up early, little bird.” He’s standing behind me; one of his hands snakes up my neck, fingers twisting into my hair. “Good.” He tightens the cloth around my eyes.

“There’s something about you. You’re as annoying as you’re pretty, and I can’t decide if I want to keep you as my little pet or get rid of you and mask it as the tragedy of a weak-minded person.”

I can sense him walk away and then make his way back into his chair in front of me. I sat up straight, settling my head towards him to show how little his words were frightening me. My mind’s been playing games on me since I can remember myself, and a mere human couldn’t scare me with ropes and threats when my own head was a prison of torture most of my life.

“I urge you to make that decision now before your next patient finds us in this roleplay of yours.” I tug the restraints on my hands.

Anakin laughs; I can hear him light a cigarette.

“Yeah?” He pauses, probably taking a puff. “You’re stupid. You don’t think you should be scared?”

I know I should be; in fact, I am not mentally ill enough to be oblivious to how messed up my situation actually is. But I’m not scared, and that scares me way more than being held hostage by my own psychologist.

“So what then, doc? Don’t keep me waiting.”

I can feel Anakin rise from his seat and slowly make his way to stand in front of me. I can’t see him, but as he towers over me, I lift my head up. There is that sense of feeling small again. Maybe it’s less about his confidence and more about how twisted his mind is to lure in people like that.

“Do you think I haven’t noticed? You… Digging through me, trying to figure me out... Watching me. You’re sick.” He grabs my chin. ”You’re sick, and it pisses me off.”

“So you decided to tie me up?”

He sighs, and I’m pretty sure he’s fed up with my poor sense of judgment.

“No, I decided to tear up your dignity piece by piece to show you who’s the real maniac between the two of us.” He yanks the blindfold off my face, and I can’t help but wonder if the initial purpose of it was to do just that. It's as if he’s planned every single second of our sick encounter.

His piercing deep blue eyes star into mine intensely, filled with overwhelming emotions of visible hatred and lust, and I am no longer sure if I want to scream into his face or bite his lips off in an intense session of kissing. I want to make him bleed through both pain and pleasure. Can he tell what I think this time too, or is he sane enough to be unaware of the disturbing thoughts spiraling in my scrambled brain?

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says it with a disgusted tone.

“Do you not enjoy my stare, doctor?"

I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why my tongue moved in such a seductive manner when I spoke to him. Maybe it was the fruit of his manipulation, making me feel safe, making me trust him, and then turning me into a mindless vessel that craves his approval. Or maybe my problems dive deeper into my body, and it’s just who I am. Maybe sickness excites me.

Whatever the reasoning, it seemed to amuse him. Though I still couldn’t read if his amusement was based on hatred for that twisted attraction he obviously felt towards me, part of me wished it was later.

“You’re a masochist.”

“And you’re a sadist.”

Anakin raises his eyebrow. “So you agree?”

We were both right, but I wasn’t just going to sign up for him hurting me. Or at least not this easily. As I wonder how this is going to go, he leaves the room.

I like to think he’s keeping me because he finds me desirable. It doesn’t exactly make the whole captive situation better, but hell, it’s satisfying when you’re entertaining enough for a man such as Anakin to consider not murdering you instantly. For other eyes, it would make his image less perfect, but to me, he’s becoming better by a second.

Anakin comes back with a pair of metal scissors in his hand. He towers over me again, this time raising my chin with a cold blade.

“You’re not letting go of that stare, are you, darlin’?” He bites his lip, looking down at me.

The stinging blade traces down my neck, sliding over my right collarbone. The thicker skin he reaches, the more pressure he’s applying, yet he's not breaking the flesh, only leaving a red, tingling line. It drags over my clothed shoulder and down the sleeve of my shirt. He does it slowly, not breaking eye contact, as if he’s done it a thousand times before. I question if I am as special as I thought I was.

“You have no idea what I am going to do to you.” He leans down to whisper as he hooks the cutting edge under the cuff and cuts into it.

A cold sensation sends shivers up my arm when he lets the two blades rip through the material all the way up to the neckline, leaving my left limb completely free of clothing. The dust particles tickle my nose, causing a sharp inhale, which he mistakes for fear.

“Scared?”

Not a chance. It’s better than just undressing me; it gives a sense of foreplay, whether before sex or murder. He repeats the same process on my other sleeve.

“You like playing with your food?”

Anakin grins widely. I think he’s liking me more and more. "Oh, how I’ll enjoy devouring you, my sweet dessert."

He drops down to his knees, placing his hands on my thighs to keep them apart and give him more access to be closer to me. He cuts into the hemline of my shirt and rips it across the middle, parting it and exposing even more of me for his eyes to eat. He doesn’t stop there and digs the point of the scissors into my chin, causing a painful sting. I look into his eyes, clouded with darkness, biting my teeth together to avoid hissing from the ache.

“Mouth.” He says that, and my lips part involuntary, as if he had control of my own body.

He slides the scissors fully into me, leaving only the rings hanging out.

“Bite.”

I clench my teeth against the metal to prevent myself from choking. Anakin looks at me proudly, as if saying how good I am for listening to his orders. He grabs the waistband of my pants and commands again.

“Hips.”

I lift myself up, and before I know it, I’m almost entirely naked, tied to a chair, with scissors digging into the back of my throat. And I don’t think ever in my life I’ve been this turned on by a mere thought of being hurt.

He stands up, grabbing the tool out of my mouth and yanking it out without any consideration. With trembling hands, he starts cutting the ropes off my wrists.

“I’m about to die from the feelings you make me feel.” He groans.

Once my hands are free, I clash into him like an animal freed from a cage who’s been deprived of meat. His lips lash onto mine, and his arms grab my thighs and lift me up against him. He’s kissing me, and my body’s burning with sickness and desire. Anakin carries me to his desk, sweeping all the papers and stationary on the ground with a loud, crashing sound, breaking whatever’s fragile and unlucky enough to interfere with our twisted fantasy.

Anakin’s teeth graze the skin on my neck as he throws me to lay on the wooden tabletop. He digs his teeth into my flesh, making me gasp. He’s marking my body with deep red bruises, and I wonder if it’s to hurt me, taste me, or make me see the sars. I’m pretty sure all three things are happening at the same time, though.

He pulls away for a second just to force his tongue into my mouth. And I kiss him. I crave him. I want to make him feel weak for not killing me; I want to make him feel vulnerable for giving into his desires, but the only one who’s feeling small is me. Just like every other time. I keep kissing him, tasting his spit in my mouth as it smears over my chin from how hungrily he’s working. And he keeps devouring me. He keeps devouring me, and I can’t force myself to stop him.

[clarkeyhillx]

☹️Thinking of you| George Clarke (sad) TW mentions of mental illness, su!c!de, therapy

[ You and George were best friends, had been since being children, although you knew eachother inside and out, there was always things George didn't know about you, how sad you were and how unable to cope with your emotions had you feeling, until one Tuesday morning when he stumbled upon a letter you left]

M o n d a y: 9am.

You wandered around your flat, a feeling of melancholy rose over you as your mental health had taken a dip recently, being unable to enjoy the things you normally would. Your phone buzzes, it's a text from George.

G:"Hey, we're having a games night at the flat if you're not busy, the lads asked if you wanted to join? x"

Y/n: "hey, what time? I'm a bit down so I could use a pick me up x"

G: "4pm, but I can come and see you beforehand? We can go shopping or grab a bite if you wanna escape your mind for a little while? x"

Y/n "I would love that geo, is 12pm okay? I wouldn't mind a stroll to some shops, only if you're not busy? x"

G: "my days free, even if it wasn't I'd make time, see you at yours for 12 x"

Y/n "🤍"

-

And with that your mood slowly lifted, although you knew after you go home tonight it would just plummet again, you suffered a while with low moods and just can't seem to escape the feeling of the world being better without you. A lingering feeling of annoyance to those around you and being a burden. You're in therapy 3 days a week to try and conquer your mind, nothing seems to help. You decide to try a make yourself feel better by looking better, you throw on some flare ripped jeans with an oversized hoodie over the top, your hair tried back into a claw clip as you apply minimal makeup, just enough to cover the black circles around your face.

The door knocks as you open it to reveal a smiley George who immediately embraces you into a hug, making you stumble from the force. "Nearly had me on my arse then geo, you that excited to see me?" You chuckle for the first time in weeks, George always seems to make you more happier every time you see him.

"Why wouldn't I be excited to see my bestie?" He says pulling away and ruffling your hair "where we off first?" He asks looking at you with content "I was thinking we could grab a bite first and then go explore? I don't have many places in my specifically" you say with a smile "okay, sounds good, I have one shop i definitely want to go to" he says with a mischievous smile "oh yeah where's that?" You ask "it's a surprise, now come on!" He says holding out his hand.

You both make your way to a quiet coffee shop on the main stretch of London and order a coffee, you know George wants to talk about how you're feeling. As he nurses his cup in anxiousness, "so, what's been going on lately? Why the need of a pick me up" he says taking a sip of his latte, you sigh as you know as a part of your therapy you must speak to people "I just feel so, unimportant to the world at the minute geo, my life seems very, I don't know, pointless I guess" you say unable to look at him, his face whitens as your words "y/n, you know deep down that's not true, you're important to a lot of people and your life is just starting to work out" he says with a reassuring tone "I know, but I just feel, stuck. Like if I wasn't here it wouldn't be much of a difference to the universe and it sort of settles me, I know it's not what you want to hear" you say with a sad expression, George's face turns even whiter "I need you here, me and the boys need you here, we all love you, has there been thoughts crossing your mind that I should know about?" You hesitate as his words, unable to pronounce them to him without your heart shattering, you mumble "there has been, but I'm trying to work through it" George's eyes become glassy, his palms sweaty as he hovers his hand over yours. "I need you to stay y/n, please don't leave, talk to me for gods sake, I would literally move heaven and earth for you if it means I can ease your pain" he says a tears dropping for his sad eyes, your eyes become raw "I know geo, I'm just tired of suffering right now and it just seems the only way-" George interrupts you "no!" His voice now cracking as he speaks sternly your eyes widen "George please don't make this a big deal" you say lowering your head "a big deal?! You're telling me you feel like the world would be better without you and you want me to act calm? You're my best friend! And I care!" Unable to match his gaze your head hangs in guilt, trying to fathom how to respond to your pleading best friend in hopes he would help you rethink your feelings towards yourself. "I'm sorry" you say, George sighs "you don't need to be sorry, I just want to help" he says looking at you with doe eyes "let me try and help" he advises.

You finish your coffees after a heated conversation, you feel strange and awkward around him, you've never felt like this before "I'm going to take you to the shop I wanted to, okay?" He says wrapping an arm around your shoulder "okay" you say softly, you both walk towards a familiar shop you've seen before on passing. It was a jellycat store, something you've always dreamed of visiting ever since you moved to London. Your face lights up in joy "the jellycat store!" You say looking at him, he smiles down at you "pick as many as you want" he says looking at you like you were a kid in a candy store. You hover round the store hoping to find the one you wanted, it was a small but sentimental plush for you, it was the pickle jelly cat, you see it poking out of the shelf as you hurry over to it "this one!" You say holding it up to show George "a pickle?" He says chuckling "yes! isn't he cute?" You say smiling, "yeah he is a little cute I must admit" George laughs "I want this one please" you ask "no more?" George says furrowing his brows "nope, just this little pickle" you say toodling over to the counter, George pays for the plush as they place it into the bag.

"You happy?" He says looking at you "yeah! Thanks geo" you say hugging him tightly, you held the hug for longer than normal, a feeling of warmth wraps your body as if you've never been hugged before, George doesn't let go until you do. "You're welcome" he smiles. You both walk round London for a little while, talking and catching up. George checks his watch "it's 3pm we should head back to the flat, the boys will be coming round soon" he says, you look at him with a pouting lip, enjoying the hustle and bustle of London. "Okay" you say shuffling along the pavement.

You arrive at the flat and George makes you a drink, awaiting the boys to turn up from filming. "I hope today's made you feel a little bit better" he says "it has geo, Thankyou. It'll be a long way before I'm back to my normal self but I think I'll get there with you by my side" you say, but the lingering thought of leaving still sits in your mind, although you were happy in this moment. You still weren't going to be happy forever, a sudden wave of guilt washes over you not wanting to hurt George with your actions or words. The boys walk in as they all embrace you for a hug "we're glad you could come" Chris says smiling at you "yeah me too!" You say back to him, you start off by playing monopoly, making your way through most of the games in the world you decide at 9pm to call it a night "I'm going to go home guys, I'm a little tired" George looks at you worried "you can stay here, in my bed, don't go yet!" He says, urging you to stay as he was worried about your feelings "thanks geo, but I prefer my own home comforts, bye guys" you say waving, George rises from his seat as he walks you over to the door "please don't go, I'm worried about you" he says "I'll be okay geo" you plant a kiss on his cheek "love you" you say walking away as tears form in your eyes, you felt wrong to tell him you'd be okay, you knew you wouldn't be. You clutch the jelly cat he bought you as you get into the lift.

You arrive home to your full, lifeless flat almost resembling yourself in its entirety you toss your keys on the side, not locking your door. You place the plus on your dinner table as you sit down with a notepad. Your eyes form the title reads.

"To Geo, this is everything I didn't say to you"

You start listing all the things you loved about him, the way he made you laugh, the way he lit up every room, the memories you shared, the love you had for him as you sign off the note

"Sorry I couldn't have stayed longer to watch your wings blossom more, instead mine needed to grow, I'll watch you forever and always and protect you for as long as I can, Thankyou for being my platonic soulmate in this life and hopefully the next, I love you more than I could've ever expressed in my whole time of knowing you, keep being amazing and filling those rooms with joy, I love you Geo x"

You take yourself to bed and release yourself from all your suffering, your flat still lifeless as you wallow in it. The door still left unlocked and your jellycat perched on the mantelpiece with the note beside it.

--

T u e s d a y : 11am

Your phone rings multiple times, George is calling you, multiple messages appear on your phone

G - good morning pretty x

You not awake yet?x

Y/n?

Hello?

I'm worried, call me

Please answer me

Your flat remains full, yet empty with your presence missing, George tries to call again with no answer. he begins to panic, calling the police to do a welfare check on you, they arrive busting down your door to discover you laid in bed, peaceful with no emotion. George is not far behind them as they deny him access

"Where is she!" He shouts at your door "I need to know she's okay" he bellows ones more, the police officers tell him that unfortunately you were physically here, but your presence wasn't. He falls to his knees in devastation " I knew I shouldn't have let her leave my flat last night!" He sobs, the officers comfort him as the coroner's arrive at your flat, George sees the jellycat perched on your mantle piece as he breaks past the officer to grab it, the note beside it. He clutches the paper as his tears drop to the floor. He opens the page as he starts to read the note you left, he sobs once more as he cuddles the plush he got for you less than 24hours before, it still smelled like you. The officers make George leave as they take you out of the flat, his body turns to jelly as he looks away, not wanting to picture you anymore than a happy bubbly girl who he loved dearly.

He goes back to his flat, as he calls the boys to come over, he opens his door to the with puffy eyes as he bursts into tears "she's gone, she's really gone" he says clutching the plush "who?" They all ask in unison, "y/n, she's gone" they all look confused "gone where?" They all say "she-she's passed away" he says, they boys all rally round him to comfort him as they come to terms with the news together. George decides to post into his insta to signal a break from posting.

Liked by Chrismd10,arthurtv,arthurnfhill,italianbach

Georgeclarkeey: if only you knew how loved you were, I'm sorry I couldn't take away your pain, you will forever be my best friend and I will miss you forever more, I'll make sure I live my life 10x more so you live through me, my platonic soulmate in this universe and any other always, your geo x (I am taking a break for a while)

Chrismd10: ❤️‍🩹

Arthurnfhill: ❤️‍🩹

Arthurtv: ❤️‍🩹

Italianbach:❤️‍🩹

---

If anyone of you are struggling please reach out to a mental health team or helpline, there's is many out there. Don't suffer alone ❤️

(I'm sorry this is deep but I have been feeling pretty much the same and I wanted to express it into writing)

[igglemouse]

Simón had spent most of his time in Oasis Springs agonizing over Frida, after all, he was only here for her and although his mental had improved now that he was more away from the world of his past there was still the issue of her and what an issue it was.

He wanted to go to her, profess his love of her, make her understand that in the end, he couldn't be without her and show her that despite it all she, more than anyone else, had made him vulnerable.

But part of him knew it would be best to let her go. To stay away from her. After all, his life was misery and ill fortune, tying himself to her was sure to bring her down and after seeing how well she was doing for herself perhaps the only step forward was one without her.

So, Tuesday morning he talked with her father and asked what he should do. It was no surprise that the old man wanted him nowhere near his daughter. "You know how this ends for you, Simón, it ends tragically," her dad said. "And both of us have bought enough of that into her life."

Simón begrudgingly agreed but where did that leave him?

I think I've pretty much settled into Pascal's place I mean here I am once again making him breakfast but it really isn't official official, you know? I believe both of us wonder if this is all going too fast but who decides that really? Maybe, it's going at just the right pace?

Either way, I'm here cooking Oatmeal buttermilk pancakes, hoping this fits into his very strict diet.

I don't get too far into the preparation before he joins in and offers encouragement.

"You must be the perfect woman," he tells me and I can't help but to wink and smile his way. There's always a risk with him that it can turn into more. Eh, not a risk, a hope...but he does say he has a game today and so he needs to be very very focused for that.

That leaves me with plenty to do and before I could make a plan on what to do with my free time it is Irene who calls me and asks to come over. I met her at the food stand a day or so ago if you recall and I'm more than happy to get to know her better. I feel like out of all the people I've met I have the most in common with her and so I hope this is the start to a beautiful friendship.

Before she comes over I have time to make some ice cream and also mix some lemonade. Summer is coming up hard and fast here in Oasis Springs and you'd have to be stupid to find yourself outside without a cool drink or a handful of ice cream or something!

She strolls right up to the house after she hears me outside humming and making lemonade. I invite her to sit, thankful for the shade, and she's eager to jump right into a conversation about our shared hobby. Being chefs!

"I work at the Selva place, you know the one?"

I nod my head, once again thinking of Simón and the date we shared there and ummm, what happened after. Best not to think about that. "The food was really good! I plan on going back some day-"

"The boss is an ass but a loveable one," she says, joking. "Won't even hire anyone unless they have 'heritage' or whatever, which is silly but-"

"Oh? Is he hiring?" I say, pushing right past the red flag she had put before me and focusing on the opportunity. "Maybe he might be easier to deal with if you have a friend there to help you out?"

"Well, yes? Maybe? I think he might be. I could ask him for you but...like I mentioned, he's a bit of an ass! Be careful with him!"

I tell her I will and to go ahead and give him a good word for me. Who knows if I'll take the offer, who knows if I'll be offered, but I always consider an opportunity.

After that she talks a bit about my stand and how she is just a little jealous of it. "It's pretty bold," she says. "You're all on your own so if anything goes wrong, you are to blame. Takes a lot of courage."

"I guess...I felt like I had nothing to lose," I say, thinking about how she was right but when I started my stand I never thought of failure because I've lived through failure and tragedy and I've come out stronger. "You know it is fun, thinking about the recipes and all that and-"

"That's my dream you know? Having my own place..."

That is definitely a noble and respectable dream, one I think I share...

Irene has to go which of course leaves me home alone or...well, that's not technically my home but you know what I mean!

I could have sat there and watched television or something but instead decided to head to the gym. If Pascal is out playing a game with the team or whatever he's doing then I need to stay fit myself and what better way than yoga?

It was the perfect time for it too since there was no one else around.

And being at the gym meant it is likely that I run into Sara who I think was coming from her own light work out herself. She was super excited to see me and asked why I wasn't at home earlier. "Came to ask if you wanted to work out but you just arrived? What have you been up to?"

"I've been at Pascal's place," I come right out with it, watching her eyes grow big with excitement and demand.

"Oh! Wow! You HAVE to tell me about it!"

She drags me to one of the seats, sits across from me, and gives me a signal to go on. Looks like I have little option here but to indulge her need to know just a little bit although there isn't much for me to tell her. So, I just focus on the general feeling I have when it comes to him.

"He's simple, in a good way I mean. Keeps to himself, works out a lot, very focused on his career."

"See, see!" She says, referencing my conversation with her and Marjorie days ago. "Is it true? Is he trying to get transferred to Real Del Sol!?"

"Huh?" I have no idea what she's talking about.

"O-oh, just a rumor, Oasis FC you know, small team, respectable, but he's bound to outgrow them at this rate," she says nonchalantly. "Off to a bigger club to hopefully win championships and stuff. I just wondered if you'd have like the inside scoop-"

"Nooo," I'm shaking my head, regretting that I really know nothing at all about his career but I do know what that might mean for me, for us. "We don't talk much about fútbol honestly, it's not something he's mentioned."

"Hmm, I hope he doesn't go. As an OFC fan it'd suck to lose him."

"Yeah..." well, as his girlfriend it would suck too. I hope he doesn't go either but maybe it's just a rumor with nothing behind it? I'm just now getting to know him and if he were to go to another city would he ask me to come with?

Either way, right now I'll think nothing of it and enjoy the rest of my time at the gym.

Tomorrow is Summer Solstice and hopefully that means a pretty fun and eventful day. Let's hope at least!

Episode List - Next

[alarici]

Mercury

Character: Near | Nate River

600 words | Teen and Up Audiences | No Warnings | General Pairing (none)

The planet closest to the sun.

(This is just kind of a depression wank of sorts. Again!)

Content warn: mental illness, gender issues, disability and maybe internalized ableism, brief mention of sex.

Full text below cut

The counselor asks them, “When was the last time you did something because you wanted to do it?”

And they don’t answer. There are many answers on the tip of their tongue.

“I solved a million-piece puzzle yesterday, and the day before that, also.”

“I bought myself a leg brace. I don’t use it.”

“I slept with a man from the Hong Kong police force on 21 October 2011.”

The answer isn’t no, not exactly. But Near doesn’t say anything.

The counselor sighs and moves on.

“So, have you read the Dialectical Behavior Therapy book I gave you?”

“Yes. I don’t agree with chapter seven and eight.”

Tsk.

—

A week later, Near cancels their next haircut.

The next day, they ask Roger to drive them to the town center and leave them there. They walk into a store at random—they never enter a store without knowing what it sells, if it sells what they want, it it’s open for the ten minutes they can spare to window shop—and stand between the woman’s section and the men’s. Casuals. Dresses.

Shoes.

—

What you are is what you’re supposed to be. You were made as the Christian god intended.

And what did he intend? A mass of flesh and bone. A fleshy chest and narrow hips. The face of a child, now pushing twenty five.

Near doesn’t believe in gods they can’t see.

Near doesn’t fit nicely into many Boolean categories—or, they fit into all of them poorly and agree to fall to the side that’s been suggested, what’s been easiest.

True. False.

Error. Error. False.

Here’s the facts: To do what you want is to introduce uncontrollable variables. To bend and break plans, schedules, rules. To place your toe in uncertain lands and hope the grass is greener where you cannot see.

—

Alone in their room, they twist ten centimeters of hair between their thumb and their pointer finger and listen to the whip of the loop as it turns.

The ceiling is very far away. Under the skin, something tickles, squirms, insists to be felt.

If you don’t like the way your life is, change it.

Near is invisible and everywhere at once. A great man, an overgrown child. They look at the dark ceiling and make a map of their life. Destination: I didn’t think I’d make it so far.

The tyranny, the lie, of choices gnaws at them.

When was the last time…?

Near wants to rest. Wants to have long hair, like the woman in the magazine. Wants to walk ten miles in the snow. Wants to hold something or someone close enough to feel their own pulse. How complicated, this job of being human.

They cancel their next appointment. Nobody mandated the therapy. The Dialectical Behavior Therapy was not the correct treatment for them. They did not feel emotions strongly. They were not mad.

The internet suggests EMDR. They buy another set of clothing, a size to big. They try on the leg brace, again. They check their skin in the mirror and don’t look at the eyes.

They plan to take a walk on Tuesday at 6 AM so no one will see how slowly it goes. How difficult. Nor the way they smile at the geese and play guessing games with the cumulonimbus. You’re too old for such pastimes.

Someone will call them, “ma’am.” Another, “kid.” Most frequently, “Sir.” Nothing sits right. Not the shoes from the store. Not the leg brace.

But they want to walk on.

They have to. Which isn’t a want, at all.

[orphanlavinia]

I’m heavily medicated

It feels as if I’ve been defeated.

I was so happy with five pills a day.

Feels like such a step backwards or several

My psych finally broke down and gave me benzodiazepines, I pick em up today

I can’t sleep my body is exhausted and my eyes are closing but this feeling in my legs is killing me at night.

It feels like hell

I have to kinda journal somewhere so I guess here it is almost nobody knows this account is mine.

Thank you internet.

Anyways I’ve spend these past few days locked in the bathroom binge smoking weed.

It all started really when I got diagnosed with did. I was in very serious denial and what my brain did out of boredom or god knows what is flood me with memories that I would have rather not remember.

Is it my brain or miss Steiner? We don’t know

The portrayal of this illness in TikTok and shit tends to be too cartoony and I didn’t relate with it at all until I found other lesser known people that talked about it.

And then there it was, symptoms that I have that are DID.

The blackouts, the feeling of not having control in my body.

The amnesia

All of them.

And then everything inside me got worse as I watch my life outside of me getting better and I cannot join in cuz the past pulls. Hard and cruel.

And I am so tired

I have so much work to do and I will

I am just so tired all the time

My neuropathic pain medication got switched and it has caused me a great deal of physical pain.

Also just fyi I am in clinical rest.

I do have to do some stuff do.

Everything is very hard I just want to be alone and not think and not be here maybe?

I’m leaving angel alone tho

He very much understands

But it’s still not cool

I am very frustrated, I feel like I am not going anywhere and the more I dig in my history even tho it answers why I get rabid, furious.

I was the kid, I was too young, I was modeled to be the perfect victim, I was too naive, too autistic, too mentally ill.

It is not fair that I have to carry the pain and the hurt that was given to me until this point. It isn’t fair that I’ve lost a decade or decades of my life because of everything that has been done to me.

And for them it was a fucking Tuesday man.

How’s that?

It’s not fair that I met angel and I felt like Molly in the last unicorn.

Why do you come to me now that I am all broken and used? Why did t you come earlier?

I feel broken, defective.

I keep making plans for a healthy sane woman or whatever I am

But no, I am sick and broken and don’t function like someone whole.

So I gave up, I’m trying to follow my clinical rest, sleep and rest, I haven’t dared doodle or go get some sun but I’m working on it, I am taking half a pharmacy, forcing myself to eat even if all food looks like fucking poison,

I am in extreme burnout, I am audhd, have a very serious depression, I have bpd, I have did….

I have more stuff cuz I’m just god’s favorite

But I guess this is a journey or acceptance and exploration.

I am having coffee cuz it makes me happy tho i shouldn’t.

I think I should stop writing here, see you next time, void.

[larsnicklas]

hockey writing appreciation club part ii (part i here) hi team. let's support good sportswriting, whether with clicks or subscriptions! here are some more of my favorite articles i've read in the past little bit! i'll keep sharing articles every few weeks or so, and i always welcome recommendations if you have them as well!!

A mysterious illness halted his promising NHL career. Eight years later, hope and a comeback 🔒 Hodgson didn’t think about the mysterious illness that caused him to walk away from the game. Or the tests for lung cancer, brain cancer and liver cancer that he’d endured in a fruitless quest to figure out what was making him sick. He wasn’t thinking about the months of on-ice work and yoga and a grueling weight-loss regimen that led him to this point. He wasn’t even feeling the blunt soreness of the broken rib he had sustained in his first professional game after his long layoff. All he was thinking about was the gimme pass he’d just received. “If I hadn’t scored on that one,” Hodgson joked, “I might’ve had to shut it down.”

How the NHL rookie class has handled life on and off the ice Confidence becomes more than just a buzzword: It's a mantra. The rookies, after all, have to believe they belong -- even among the future Hall of Famers. "It's not like the guys you're playing against are not human, you know what I mean?" Carlsson said. "You realize you can be a good player here too, and you don't have to be worried that you're not going to make it. If you have confidence out there, you're going to be fine."

For players on the roster fringe, every day in the NHL is a treasure — and a challenge 🔒 Confidence is a funny thing. Even superstars routinely lose theirs during a stretch of what qualifies as mediocrity by their impossible standards. Hang around the game long enough and you’ll lose track of how many times you hear a player talk about just needing to “see the puck in the back of the net” to get himself going again. Never mind that he’s been the best player on the ice at every level. Never mind that he’s scored hundreds of goals in the NHL. Never mind that he’s been so good for so long that he’s paid massive sums of money and showered with love and affection every night. Even the toughest players can spiral mentally. Hockey’s hard, and the pressure’s high.

Nils Hoglander on growing up in a tiny village, why he stays on the ice after practice and his 'hidden talent' Is it harder to shoot a moose or stay in the NHL? A hint is a never-satisfied 5-foot-9, 185 pounds of bowling ball persistence and last player off the practice ice on Tuesday. “I guess I have to say hockey is the hardest,” said Hoglander. “But if you’ve never been out in the forest or anything, it’s kind of hard to know what to do. If you bring Petey (Elias Pettersson) he would have no idea what to do, he’s a city boy.”

'Open people's eyes': How the NHL's evolved in the decade of data The chemist's cell phone rings. He finds a quiet area of the lab to take the call. Hockey Hall of Fame forward Ron Francis is on the line. It's the 2014-15 season, Francis' first as general manager of the small-market Carolina Hurricanes. Francis asks the chemist - who's assumed a part-time consultant role with the NHL team - about a few players. How would you rank them? The call is short. The chemist slides his phone into his pocket, slips his gloves on, and walks to his work station. Back to the day job for Eric Tulsky.

After 1,400 games and counting, Alex Ovechkin still doesn’t break 🔒 When Alex Ovechkin was a rookie, his teammates were concerned he might have a heart attack. The Washington Capitals forward, who was 20 when he played his first NHL game in 2005, has always done things his own way. Back then, that meant a pregame routine of three Red Bulls. When the rest of his teammates were drinking Gatorade or water between periods, Ovechkin was downing soda.

Why a first-round pick walked away from the NHL — and found peace doing odd jobs 🔒 Over the course of his 10-year career, Koekkoek admits he paid far too much attention to external noise. He read negative articles about his play. He paid attention to critics on social media. And he put too much stock into various coaches who didn’t believe in him. “I lost that self-value that someone believed in me to take me in the first round,” he said. “I wish I could have kept my swagger.”

[warmsmiles]

I want to rant on my twitter about this but I have irls on there that I don't want to find out so I'm going to do it here since I only have like 3 followers. but anyways for the past 2 months maybe longer my lymph nodes under both armpits have felt irritated and sorta swollen but I didn't think anything of it cause I wasn't ill and I'd only really notice in the shower (I don't have them very often bc of my mental health issues but I do have them everytime I leave the house). the past month I noticed them not go away and even start to irritate me, causing discomfort when I moved in a certain way or even just out of nowhere. I guess you could call it painful but literally like a 1 or 2 on the pain scale, if that. I finally called the doctor to book an appointment for this coming Tuesday as one has grown big enough to worry me. and yesterday I woke up to it being a 3 or 4 on the pain scale and being fairly larger in size. as I type this it's gone kinda hard ish and its really freaking me out. of course I've been kept awake for nights at a time googling over and over and panicking over it being cancer. but surely not cause it appeared in both armpits at the same time??? I'm hoping that it's just the case that I got a bit ill a while ago but didn't notice cause my immune system fought it off so well but that one of them just got blocked up and isn't draining. that can happen right? or maybe I shaved wrong and it's an ingrown hair gone wild. I don't shave but I occasionally do my armpits once or twice a year out of boredom and the last time I shaved was about a month before the problems. maybe I'm just ill again right now, still fighting off an infection and my body is putting up a hell of a fight without me noticing. but I just can't get it out of my head that it's cancer. I know it's dramatic and every symptom on Google leads you right back to cancer but this one feels kinda probable this time. like yeah, a hard lump in my armpit that's causing me pain, it's textbook isn't it? maybe it'll all be nothing and I'm back to normal in 2 weeks time once I've had some blood work done or a nurse has stuck a syringe in my side to drain the fluid out or I have to spend the next month remembering to take my antibiotics. but that knawing thought at the back of my mind that it could be something so dreadful as to take away the last few years of my early twenties is horrifying. I've only ever known 1 person with cancer and we weren't close after the diagnosis so I don't have any first hand experience with the disease so I have no idea how to feel about this sort of thing. I'm most likely being overdramatic here but I needed to ramble my worries away and it's too dark for me to write in a diary right now so this will have to do. thank you for reading this far if you did.

[beetlebongos]

my favorite kink i dont partake in is women in absolute head over heels for the most random animated man ever. like the bad guy in puss in boots. lord farquaad in shrek. i love this blog of a lesbian in love with vegeta. i think if i did this i wud be after the space trucker woman in cowboy bebop who would be yours. doesnt have to be from the shrek franchise

see! see!!!!!! i havent read this yet but the spirit of tmi tuesdays included the beautiful anon ur a few days early tho so this is a dress rehearsal

i guess my real tmi is its basically like all those fan accounts that are like sorry guys im shutting down the blog im no longer mentally ill except rn its just that i cant seem to lust after random animated men anymore dgmw im still kinda married to reigen but will squiggles on a screen never evoke anything in me once more? :/

[bingobongobonko]

mumble mumble. today's not my day. paid bills which good! good! okay, thats good! paid! and might have new job, emphasis on might. i dont know if ill get it. feel like shit. idk. yeah that's normal week. might make a comm post as much as the idea stresses me out, like i understand its important and what people do, and i genuinely understand others who do, because why the hell wouldnt they, it just feels so weird on my part. yk. idk idk idk idk, my brain is weird. if it's fine for other people, if not awesome, same goes for me? i think? so why am i so panicked. im a hypocrite who's bad at this. after i finish this twist character sheet and the comm from my friend gonna make a public commissions post i think. or try to

[kouukie]

hello everyone. this is about to get a bit personal but i feel comfortable sharing this with u all considering u have all been so sweet and loving.

i unfortunately suffered extremely bad with postpartum and less than a month ago i attempted suicide. i am doing much better and life has been feeling okay and feels worth living again. i am ashamed i couldn’t be stronger for my son and boyfriend, but alas i am here and i am alive and doing much better.

i disappeared from here originally due to my son being born. then the postpartum hit. when the postpartum hit i began smoking weed all day everyday, slowly became an alcoholic. as of tuesday i will be 3 weeks sober from everything. i was diagnosed with postpartum depression, adhd, bipolar and borderline personality disorder. i’ve seemed out much help, i’ve been put on the proper medication and i am feeling much better and honestly dare i say, wonderful? i’ve never felt closer to my son, i removed a lot of toxic people from my life who enabled my bad behaviors (the excessive drinking and smoking).

i guess im making this post so u all know, it gets better. life IS worth living and nothing is worth missing out on this beautiful life. just less than a month ago i hated my life, myself and everything. i felt i had no options and life was completely hopeless. little did i know i just had many underlying mental illnesses and wasn’t properly taking care of them. please, if things don’t feel right, if u feel hopeless, please seek out help. i promise it always gets better and it will be okay. i wish i realized this before things got so bad.

i love u all, thank u for reading this far and thank u for always remembering my little lame blog. if i miss a tw PLEASE send me a msg an i will gladly add it. i don’t usually make such personal posts so i am stinky at those things but i will try my best. i hope u are all doing okay and i really hope i can find myself back here again soon :)

[mavisgarygotadui]

wanna hear something wild? well maybe not wild but anyway I currently manage a consignment store I was teaching for a little bit but sadly I was poor with debt anyway also I’m mentally ill so forget punctuation one of my employees was saying I’m normal and easy to talk to and it’s like are you sure you’re talking about me?? Im severely mentally ill behind closed doors but I’ve also done a lot of self work. I guess it had paid off? I had chicken strips and potatoes for dinner. All frozen but at least it’s not just candy? or caffeine? I’m really trying here I’m off Monday Tuesday and need to clean dried cat shit out of my carpet because trauma

[yugi-nope]

Being a seahorse Dad is weird. I’ve had some very awkward questions that have been difficult to answer.

She doesn’t have a mother? Yes and no. I birthed her, I guess that is my role, but I don’t identify with the word (she’ll call me Meemo.) Annoying that people who have only ever known me as a man now call me she and mummy (I have a full face of stubble, can we not)

No breastfeeding? No, I had a double mastectomy years ago, and I doubt I would have even if it was an option. A lot of women choose not to for various reasons, I don’t like the fact it’s looked down on. There’s a million reasons why a baby wouldn’t be breastfed and formula does the same job minus a few antibodies.

Won’t she be confused? No. I’ll be open and honest about how she came to be, and my best friend bought me some beautiful kids books about trans parents to help me explain to her how it works in a way that’s age appropriate.

Why would you do that if you identify as a man? Listen bro, I’m not made of money. Surrogacy is expensive. Adoption takes ages and is pricey. My husband is ten years older than me and didn’t want kids past 40. I knew what I wanted and I made it happen. I hated every minute of the pregnancy, and the birth left me traumatised. I’d never do it again, but I did what I had to do.

I’ve also been told I’ll make her ‘as mentally ill as me’. My being transgender is the least of my worries in regards to what I may pass on, especially when it comes to mental health. I’m way more concerned about my BPD being a factor, but all I can do in that case is love her the way I never received, and hopefully there’s no childhood trauma to speak of. If there is from an outside source, we face it together, and if she ends up with BPD, then she won’t feel alone for a moment. If she comes out as trans later, it’s another Tuesday.

This kid is going to be loved and adored regardless of how she got here, and that seems to be the important part that people forget.

[mermaidsirennikita]

23- What is your longest friendship?

11- What were your highs and lows for this last month?

19- A time you told a lie

33- What's a pet peeve you have?

35- What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

23. What is your longest friendship?

Hmmm, I have one friend from high school that I still keep in touch with, even if we aren't as close... My closest SUPER TIGHT friendships in ~real life are with two former coworkers I met at the same time. We live in different cities (only like an hour apart tho) and have very different lifestyles (they're moms, I'm not) so we have to really stretch to make it work but we do.

And my longest-lasting friendship with someone I met online is Amaya :)

11. What were your highs and lows for this last month?

Hmmmm.... My low was an anxiety attack I had when I was sure that I had a brain tumor because of vision issues I've been having (going to the eye doctor on Tuesday, but based on the fact that the issues are relatively minor and I have zero brain tumor symptoms and everyone in my family wears glasses... probably not a brain tumor? Let's hope?) and my high was a really fun work opportunity thingy I'm doing now.

19. A time you told a lie.

Lmao I told people in my life that I was going to NYC for a conference when in fact I was going to NYC because I was having a bit of a Restless Crisis and just needed to be away. I don't know why I told that lie; I have a hard time doing things Just For Me, there always has to be a justification.

33. What's a pet peeve you have?

I hate it when people blame their assholery on mental illness--and I say this as someone who has a srs (if not treated and regulated) one. It's a contributing factor; it's not an excuse.

35. What kind of first impression do you make on people?

I think that, depending on the setting, I can either come off as aloof and (I have been told) intimidating or MUCH more extroverted than I actually am, a chattery exuberant girly girl. I guess that's the bipolar energy lmao

[turnthepagevn]

HAPPY NATIONAL GIRLFRIENDS DAY TO MY POOKIE OF ALL TIME YUURI <33 and to everyone else... Happy Tuesday I guess... 🥱😒 - Mentally ill lesbian anon

"Oooh, happy Girlfriends Day! Do you want to go somewhere fun together today?"

"Wow harsh..."