#not bad enough to make me depressed or anxious but I’m still checking my messages every 15 minutes

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[iamdrowninghelpme98]

Entry 21:

2024

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s October, my favorite month. I love the weather- it’s so calm and beautiful, and it always feels like the world is finally letting out a deep breath. I’m trying to enjoy it as much as I can, but things have been so stressful lately. It’s hard to stay grounded when I feel out of place everywhere I go. I miss feeling like I belong anywhere.

I’m lucky to be living in a nice apartment with friends who are kind to me. I pay less than a third of what my share would normally be, and I feel terrible about it. They’re saving for a wedding, and I know they could easily rent this room out to someone who can actually help them cover expenses, but they don’t. They’re always trying to offer me food, too. I know they’ve noticed that I usually don’t have groceries, and that makes me feel even worse. I lie and say I ate at work or grabbed something while I was out because I don’t want them to feel like they have to take care of me. Sometimes it’s hard on the days when I really am hungry, but I can’t stand the thought of being more of a burden than I already am.

It’s like I have to hide parts of myself from them. I don’t want them to feel sorry for me or to feel like I’m dragging them down. They’re planning a wedding, and I’m in the middle of a divorce. I know it’s selfish, but it’s hard to be fully present for my friend’s happiness when I’m drowning in my own sadness. I want to be more supportive, not constantly retreating to my room or taking long walks to escape everything. But sometimes isolating just feels safer. At least if I’m alone, I can’t hurt anyone. Just myself.

I’m already dreading the holidays, even though they’re still a ways off. I need to focus on staying in the present and not get lost in worrying about what’s coming. Right now, the most important thing is staying sober. I’m still struggling, but I haven’t given up. The physical withdrawals are over, but the mental and emotional cravings are harder to shake. I miss the feeling of being high, of having some kind of escape from everything. But I know those feelings were just temporary fixes, not real solutions.

Even though I’m struggling, I’m still winning this battle. It’s hard to keep choosing to stay clean, but I’m doing it, day by day. And right now, that’s the best I can do.

I know the holidays are coming, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them from creeping closer. I need to figure out how to get ahead of the extra layer of depression they always seem to bring, but I don’t know how. I thought by now, things with my family would be better, that there would be some kind of progress. But it feels like nothing has changed. I did see my mom recently, but only because a pet of mine that she now owns was in the hospital. Even that didn’t go as well as I hoped. It feels like they only reach out to me when something is wrong, and that just sets me up to be upset or anxious every time. Then my mom throws it back in my face, saying she avoids talking to me because I’m always upset. Of course I am- it’s hard not to be when the only times they contact me, it’s to deliver bad news, never just to catch up or have a normal conversation. My feelings feel weaponized against me. It’s like I’m stuck in this loop where I look unstable to them, and they don’t even see how they’re the ones putting me there.

I know I could reach out, too, and that the phone works both ways. But I keep waiting to feel wanted, to feel like they actually want me in their lives. Right now, I just don’t feel that way, and I don’t want to force myself into spaces where I’m not sure I’m welcome. I want to be valued and cared for, not the person everyone skirts around. I’m tired of feeling like the black sheep—the one they avoid, the one they talk about rather than talk to.

At least my adopted dad and I have been talking a few times a week lately. It’s comforting to know someone else cares enough to check up on me. I genuinely smile when I see a message or photo from him; I can feel his love, and I believe in it. He listens to me without judgment, offers advice, and has even read some of these journal entries- none of which scared him away. I was actually so relieved he didn’t stop talking to me after he told me he read more entries than the one I had asked him to. I didn’t expect him to do that; I didn’t think anyone would care about my ramblings, let alone not view me in a negative light after reading my inner thoughts and confessions. But he didn’t judge me, didn’t change how he felt about me, he just loved me anyway. I do worry, though, about how my adopted mom feels about us talking. I’d hate for him to get in trouble for keeping in touch when she’s made it clear she doesn’t want a relationship with me. We haven’t made any progress her and I, and I’m not sure we ever will. It’s hard knowing that she doesn’t want to see or talk to me, but I also can’t blame her after everything. I don’t think my adopted dad could invite me over to their house or spend large amounts of time with me since she prefers my distance. I miss sleeping at their house, I would actually be able to get a good nights rest over there, I felt safe. I wish I could just go over there and finally sleep. Still, I appreciate every bit of his effort, it means a lot. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to be apart of their family again, and I don’t want to loose my adopted dad too.

R is the only person who texts me every day. But I know why he’s doing it. He’s aware that it’s getting to be the time of year again that is the hardest for me, he knows I’m more vulnerable now. I can see his strategy- stay close, keep a line open, and wait for me to follow the pattern and run back to him when things get tough. I’ve fallen into that trap before, and I hate that he knows me well enough to use it to his advantage. And I hate that I’m an active participant in this cycle.

I’m just struggling.

Still trying to make sense of everything while holding on to whatever stability I can find.

[paper-teeth]

11-19-23

Omg, it’s almost like, my ex saw me going through depression, paralyzing anxiety, and an eating disorder for two years and didn’t give a shit about me. He cared more about keeping me as his perfect girlfriend, his ticket out of his living situation, his prize for all his suffering, than accepting I was miserable and killing myself. I cried and cried and screamed it at him, but he still called himself the victim.

He abused me, manipulated me, raped me, and still called himself the victim and got me to console him. He sobbed and sobbed and I had to tell him it was okay, even though I felt disgusting. I was the temptation, I was the reason he wasn’t good enough for church, I was the reason he lied to his family. I don’t remember how many times I had to get plan b, how many times he just couldn’t help himself, how many times I had to put my thoughts elsewhere.

I thought I was asexual. That I could never be present during sex because the thought of it turned me off. I would drink until I didn’t care who he was or what he did, to make myself enjoy it. I would fall asleep during sex all the time. Now I think it was just to make it stop.

I was 19 when we met, 20 when I accepted to date him. I’d never had a relationship, never been sexual, never kissed anyone. I wanted to check another thing off my list and hey, he wasn’t so bad was he? Good enough to stick with for a bit and then move on? I wasn’t ready to fight against him and his demands. I just wanted to be liked. If he said something was normal in a relationship, then who was I to say no? I was terrified of failing at anything—being a girlfriend was no exception. I was sleep-deprived, anxious, impulsive, and always doing too many things at once. A perfect mix of not enough energy to think, almost drowning loneliness, and a fear of not being enough.

So yeah, sure, text me today telling me to drop all my plans to go have brunch. Tell me how you’ll be so sad you won’t get to see me before my birthday. Tell me how it’s so selfish I won’t leave my grandparents to go entertain whatever excuses you have this time.

Tell me how I’m the reason your “friends” no longer talk to you. Tell me I’ve turned them, that I talk shit to everyone about you.

Funny how I actually didn’t mind you, until those “friends” started telling me how uncomfortable you make them. How you won’t stop texting them, how you don’t respect their boundaries, how you still text their families, how they don’t want to invite you to things because they’re uncomfortable with how you act. There’s a reason these “friends” don’t reach out to you or are always busy. There’s reasons why they don’t answer your messages.

I spent so much time defending you until I realized you never deserved it. I hated taking you anywhere. I felt so alone and guilty, because how could I be such an awful person? Now I know I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Don’t text me again and learn to read the room.

[demonsigh]

the hunt

rating: lime/mature pairing: male vampire x gender-neutral reader features: touch starvation, safewords, biting, aftercare, cuddling warnings: blood, fear, being chased, dizziness length: 4240 words

Feeling isolated and craving physical intimacy, a college student agrees to be hunted and bitten by a vampire in exchange for a post-meal snuggling session. Based on this prompt submitted to @monsterkinkmeme​​ by @the-color-of-sound-is-space

You were supposed to meet him at 11 PM, in the middle of Bartleby Park. Vampires were nocturnal and uncomfortable in the sun, so the hunt had to take place at night. But did it have to be this late?

It wasn’t as if you were getting tired. You were something of a nocturnal animal yourself nowadays; college tended to do that to people. But the park was pretty creepy this late at night, eerily empty and unnaturally quiet.

You checked your phone again. 11:10 already. He was late. Had he been held up? Or could he have overslept? That thought wrung a quiet chuckle from you — a sound not at all reassuring to hear in the dark silence of the park.

The “he” in question was a vampire named Roland that you’d met on the internet. You were meeting up so he could suck your blood.

For whatever reason, college towns tended to attract vampires. It probably had something to do with the vibrant nightlife, and the bars that never closed, and parties that only ended when the sun rose. Or perhaps it was the rich history of such places, in the old stone buildings and the musty library books. Or maybe it was just the students themselves: curious and open-minded, over-educated and sheltered and a little bit reckless.

In the modern age, most vampires obtained their food in the modern way: in bags, from blood banks or speciality clinics. But there were those who still swore by more natural methods. Many believed that feeding from the source provided physical and mental health benefits. For others, the desire to stalk, and chase, and bite, was simply too strong to resist indulging. Luckily for all, it was not as difficult to find a willing human victim as one might expect.

You discovered a message board that was dedicated to this macabre economy. Vampires would make posts looking for “prey” — humans willing or eager to be bitten. An arrangement would be made for a night of thrilling and dangerous roleplay, where the vampire played the part of the seductive predator, and the human, the helpless victim.

For most of the humans who posted on this forum, being prey was a kink. They enjoyed the thrill of the chase, and the pain of the bite. It was foreplay to them, and the evening inevitably led to sex after their partner’s more pressing appetites were sated.

You became a little obsessed with this message board. You didn’t think you’d mind being bitten; there was something kind of sexy about it. But you weren’t really trying to get laid. What you really wanted was some quality aftercare, a perk that was frequently offered, requested, and discussed on this forum.

College had become something of a lonely experience for you. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, and you weren’t sure where you’d gone wrong. In your freshman year you’d made an effort to be social, starting a number of casual friendships, but none of them really stuck. You were still close to your high school friends, and you talked to them online all the time, but somehow the number of people with whom you had any physical interaction had dwindled down to zero.

It made you lonely in a deep, nagging way. You wanted a hug. You wanted to hold someone’s hand. You daydreamed constantly about these things, setting up elaborate scenarios in your mind that led to someone safe and warm holding you for hours at a time. You felt like these fantasies were reaching a boiling point in your mind. And one night, after drinking several beers by yourself, you made your own post on that message board. You would let someone bite you (hunt optional), in exchange for an evening of snuggling (sex optional).

And that was how you met Roland. He wasn’t the only vampire who replied to your post, but he was the only one who lived within easy walking distance. You agreed to meet at one of the campus cafes and discuss possibilities over coffee.

You recognized him immediately, although you were pretty sure he didn’t recognize you. He was in one of your classes. You frequently spied him from across the lecture hall, tall and good-looking and unapproachable. You’d always thought there was something a little otherworldly about him, but he mostly just looked like another student. You’d had no idea that he wasn’t even human.

And it turned out he wasn’t as intimidating as he looked. He actually seemed pretty nice, even a little bit shy. He’d never fed straight from the skin before — drinking nothing but bagged blood since he was turned — and he wanted to try it at least once. He wasn’t trying to get laid either. Like you, he was much more interested in the aftercare, hoping for something like a cooldown hug once the deed was done. That suited you just fine.

The plan was this: You would meet in Bartleby Park at 11 PM. The exact location didn’t matter, he said; he would come find you. This statement gave you an unexpected thrill. Perhaps the hunting part would be more fun than you’d thought. You would run, and he would chase you. If you screamed, all the better — although this did make a safeword necessary. You chose “cardboard,” the first word that came to your mind, which made him laugh. When he finally caught you, he would bite you on the neck and drink your blood. Then he would take you up to his apartment for first aid and spooning. Simple as that.

Only he wasn’t here yet. It was 11:20 now, and you were still alone. Maybe he was having trouble finding you. Or… was he backing out? That thought stung. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been looking forward to this, and the idea of going home tired and alone made you feel more depressed than ever.

A branch snapped in the trees nearby, and your head whipped toward the sound. Your eyes scanned back and forth across the screen of dark leaves, trying and failing to uncover the culprit.

“Roland?” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to whisper, but suddenly you were having trouble finding your voice. Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump. It was a text message from your friend:

“How did it go?”

“He’s late, I’m still waiting,” you typed in response.

“Ok… Text me again in an hour or I’m calling the cops.”

Your friends had basically all agreed that this seemed like a bad idea. You were starting to wonder if they were right. You didn’t know Roland at all… even if you knew where he lived and where he went to school. Even if he was cute and he seemed nice.

And even if Roland was fine, Roland wasn’t here. It was late, and the park was deserted. Who knew what other weirdos were prowling around out here.

You were starting to feel genuinely anxious. Beneath the trees, the park was dark, the shadows unaffected by the dim light of the street lamps. What was the safeword again? Cardboard? That was it, right?

There was a rapid noise in the grass behind you — tff tff tff — like something rushing towards you in long leaps. That was the last straw. You launched into a flat-out run, heart hammering, breath coming in gasps.

A pair of cold, hard arms wrapped around you from behind, jerking you to a stop. You screamed at the top of your lungs, and then, almost in the same breath, shouted, “Cardboard cardboard cardboard,” all in a rush; sure that the word would mean nothing to this person; that you were about to be hurt or worse.

But cardboard was the magic word. The arms disappeared from around your chest, and in a flash he was standing in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, “are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

And of course it was only Roland, the very person you had agreed to do this with. He was staring into your face, expression distressed, hands gripping your shoulders.

“I’m okay,” you wheezed. “It was just… scarier than I expected.”

He was slowly shaking his head back and forth. He looked appalled. “Fuck, I am so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was apologizing like that, until you suddenly became aware of the wetness on your cheeks, and the ragged sound of your breathing. Were you crying? God, how fucking embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing tears from your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Jesus.”

“No no,” said Roland, “don’t apologize. I think I overdid it. ...And I was pretty late, that definitely didn’t help.”

He was looking around now, frowning into the dark woods, and rubbing your shoulders absently. You were hyper-aware of his hands. They were like ice but every pass of them over your shoulders sent a rush of warmth through you. You felt extremely relieved that he was here, even though he was the reason you’d been so scared in the first place. You wished he would hug you — the desire for this was almost overwhelming — but you felt too dazed and embarrassed to ask.

His eyes met yours once again, and his hands slipped from your shoulders, finding their way into his pockets instead — the exact opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh…” he said. “Do you wanna just skip this part and go straight back to my place?”

A wobbly laugh escaped you, and you nodded weakly. “Are you still gonna suck my blood?” you asked.

“Do you still want me to?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled at that. It was a small, almost shy smile, but enough to give you a good look at his fangs. They looked shockingly white and sharp in the dark.

He started to walk in the direction of his apartment, then paused; and looking back, expression uncertain, he held his hand out towards you. You hesitated for just one second. Then you placed your hand in his, and his cold fingers closed tightly around yours.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Your heart was racing again. When was the last time you’d held someone’s hand? You never wanted him to let go.

Neither of you spoke. You wondered if he was feeling as nervous as you were. You’d thought that the scary part was over, but what about what came next? How badly would it hurt when he bit you? He’d never bitten anyone before, he said. How would he react to his first taste?

When you tried to picture it, all you could imagine were his lips pressed against your skin; and his hand cupping the back of your neck, holding you still. They were not unpleasant images. You felt your face heat up, and you were suddenly grateful for the darkness and the cold night air.

It was a fairly short walk. His apartment was a big single-room studio: TV and sofa in one corner, bed and bookcase in another. Rounded doorways branched off into a kitchen and a bathroom. There was a large white-curtained window in the west wall, and moonlight poured in through the glass, illuminating the plush carpet. It was cozy and uncluttered. Roland watched you look around, then looked around himself.

“Maybe in the kitchen?” he asked. He caught your eye, then glanced quickly away. “So we don’t get blood on the carpet.”

How practical. You followed him into the kitchen, forcing yourself to take even breaths as you went. Vampires were supposed to have excellent hearing. Could he hear how fast your heart was beating?

“Want some water?” he asked, opening a cupboard as he spoke. You peered over his shoulder, tickled to see that the only dishes he seemed to own were drinking glasses; no bowls or plates in sight. What would he need a plate for, after all?

He moved around you to fill the glass with water from the sink. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact, and you wondered again if he was nervous. Somehow the thought made you feel more at ease. Boldly, you opened his refrigerator to examine the contents. Blood bags, and nothing else. Lots of them. Stacks upon stacks, in neat little rows. You couldn’t quite believe it, even though it was exactly what you’d expected to find.

You didn’t know what kind of face you were making, but you were afraid it wasn’t good. You turned toward Roland and found him watching you, expression careful; glass of water forgotten in one hand.

“Yeah…” he said.

“Nothing for me?” you asked, grinning, attempting to break the sudden tension.

He grinned back sheepishly. Then he pulled a little juice box out of the pocket of his jacket. It was the kind of thing they gave you after donating blood. You both began to laugh, and a warm, giddy feeling spread through you.

Roland moved closer and patted one of the countertops. “Hop up here?” he asked. You obliged, although it was more of a scramble than a hop. Roland began pulling more small items from the pockets of his jacket, and setting them on the counter next to you: single-use alcohol wipes; a few band-aids; a little roll of gauze, and a roll of medical tape. It became clear to you that he really had intended to bite you in the park, and he had come prepared.

He was standing very close now, almost pressed against your bent knees. You longed to close the distance. You didn’t move. Roland’s movements also grew slower, more hesitant. Stalling.

“Are you nervous?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Why?”

He looked you right in the eye, finally. His expression was serious.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” you replied, although you weren’t sure whether you actually believed that.

He frowned, and his eyes travelled down to your neck. He was biting his lip, and his fangs stood out starkly against his skin.

He handed you the glass of water. You drank it. Then you took his hand and gently pulled him closer, spreading your knees wider so he could stand between them. He swallowed visibly.

“I’m nervous too,” you told him.

“I know,” he said, in a hoarse almost-whisper. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Safeword?”

“You can just tell me.”

You were both almost-whispering now, leaning in closer and closer. It felt an awful lot like you were about to share your first kiss.

With one hand, he pulled the collar of your shirt away from your neck, while his other hand slid up to cup the back of your neck. Your heart was hammering with excitement and fear, and his cold fingers felt good against your flushed skin. He lowered his face against your neck, and almost before you knew it his fangs were piercing the skin, creating thin twin wounds that ached immediately. You gasped and grasped handfuls of the fabric of his jacket. Honestly his teeth didn’t hurt much more than a needle, but somehow the reality of it stunned you. He was really going to drink your blood. In that moment, for the first time, you really believed that Roland was something other than human.

His lips closed over the wound. His mouth was wet and unexpectedly hot, and his tongue moved rhythmically against your aching skin as he sucked and swallowed your blood. He made a low sound deep in his throat — the type of contented groan that a good bite of food might inspire. You had to hold your breath to keep from responding in kind.

This was erotic. You couldn’t help thinking of it that way. Your grip on his jacket tightened, and you forced yourself not to squeeze your knees more tightly around his waist. You wondered if he felt it too. Was this exciting him at all? Or was this just a meal to him?

You couldn’t have said how long this went on — it was probably minutes, though it felt longer — but eventually he stopped drinking and pulled away. Somehow a piece of gauze was already in his hand; he pressed it to your neck, holding it firmly against the bite. You stared at each other, both breathing unevenly. His cheeks, so colorless before, were now flushed.

He cleared his throat and licked blood off his lips.

“Are you okay,” he asked, voice rough.

“I’m ok,” you said, although you actually felt a little dizzy. You felt around for the juice box. “Was that enough?”

He nodded his head and grabbed the juice box, pressing it into your reaching hand. He seemed a little dazed. He tore open one of the alcohol wipes, and while you drank your juice he disinfected the bite marks. You hissed at the stinging pain, and he grimaced in sympathy. Then he taped a fresh strip of gauze over the bite.

“It didn’t hurt that bad,” you reported between sips.

“Good,” he said. But he was starting to look unhappy again, frowning as he watched you sip your juice. Your heart sank a little in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed this as much as you had.

“Are you ok?” you asked him.

He didn’t respond at first. And then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him. You bit back a huff of surprise. He was no longer cold — drinking your blood had warmed his whole body.

“What is it?” you whispered.

He heaved an enormous sigh next to your ear. “You just looked so scared in the park,” he said. You could feel the vibration of his voice against your chest. “I feel really bad.”

You didn’t feel bad. One of his large hands was pressed against your back, warm and reassuring, and the other was cupped around the back of your head. Your chest was pressed flush against his, and he was warm and solid and worried about you. You gave up trying to resist the urge to touch him. You put your arms around him, and squeezed your knees tighter against his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You let your head fall forward to rest against his neck, but as soon as you closed your eyes, the room began to whirl around you.

“Um,” you gasped. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” he said, a little catch of surprise in his voice. He pulled away. “Um. Let me, uh...”

Carefully, he slipped his hand under your knees, and gathered you up into his arms. You threw your own arms around his neck, shamelessly clinging to him as he carried you out of the kitchen with no apparent effort. He paused in the doorway and looked down at you.

“The bed or the couch?” he asked.

“The bed,” you said against his chest, hoping that this was not too bold. He didn’t seem to think so. He carried you across the room, careful not to jostle you, and gently laid you down on top of the comforter.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

You nodded your head. You were quite cold, actually; another effect of the blood loss.

Roland stood and went over to a small closet, where he retrieved a stack of thick, warm-colored blankets. He shook them out and draped them over you in layers, and their warm weight made you feel better almost immediately.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem,” he replied. He stood by the side of the bed, unmoving. He seemed to be struggling for words. “Um… Do you still want to…”

“Yes,” you said emphatically, and you peeled back the blankets to make space for him.

He looked self-conscious, but he didn’t hesitate. He crawled under the blankets, and carefully pulled you into his arms, settling your head against his shoulder. His body was still warm with your blood, and you pressed into him eagerly.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you said. You placed your hand flat on his chest, then sighed happily, which made him laugh. He laid his hand over yours, curling his fingers around it.

That was almost too much. Your chest felt fit to burst with it. You kept waiting to wake up, sure that you must have dreamt this whole thing. You still couldn’t believe he’d drunk your blood. His teeth had been inside of you. And as much as that weirded you out, it kind of turned you on too.

You suddenly remembered that you were supposed to text your friends back. You shifted around, and Roland loosed his hold on you to let you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“I’m letting my friends know you didn’t murder me,” you explained as you typed. You’d meant it as a joke, but you regretted the words as soon as they were out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, turning in his arms to face him, and wincing at the pain in your neck. “I didn’t really think you would…”

He shook his head before you could say anything else. “It’s ok. Biting someone…” He ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “Well, it’s an inherently violent act. Some people get carried away. Your friends weren’t wrong to be worried.”

“I feel safe with you though,” you said.

“Oh. Good.” He ducked his head, and his cheeks turned the pinkest they’d been all night. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest. He was really adorable… You hadn’t expect that, watching him from afar. You pulled closer to him, putting your arms around him and laying your head against his chest. He tucked the blankets more snugly around your shoulders.

“This is really nice,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“How did you like biting me?” You forced the words out before you could lose your nerve. You hoped you weren’t making it awkward, but you had to know.

Roland didn’t answer at first. Then he let out a breath, and slid one of his hands over his face. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “It was way better than drinking bagged blood.”

“Oh, good!” you said, laughing. “I’m glad. I was worried you didn’t like it.”

“I definitely liked it…” he said, still covering his face. “You taste amazing.”

You felt your face turn bright red. There was a double-entendre in there somewhere, although you guessed it was unintentional. I’d like to taste you next, you thought wildly, and once again, you found yourself wondering if you were the only one whose mind had wandered into the gutter tonight.

He seemed to sense your sudden discomfort, if not its source, because he uncovered his face and said, “I’m sorry, that was a super weird thing to say.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I liked it too,” you admitted. “When you bit me.” Then, still more softly: “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again sometime.”

You heard him swallow. “I’d like that.”

You lapsed into a warm silence, untroubled and comfortable, and you basked in his presence like a cat in sunlight. You were aware of every part of him that was pressed against you: his chest rising and falling beneath you, and his hands pressed against your back, and his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets, chaste but intimate, and ripe with potential.

You definitely wanted to kiss him. You opened your mouth to float the idea, but you were overcome by an enormous yawn. You suddenly realized you had no idea what time it was. It felt really late, but maybe you were just tired out from all the excitement.

“Was I falling asleep?” you asked.

“A little,” he admitted.

“I should probably get home,” you said, but then made no move to get up. You heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t wanna go yet though,” you complained, “I’m so cozy.”

“Do you wanna stay here?”

You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “Stay the night?”

“We don’t have to do anything weird,” he said, turning pink again. You stared at each other for a moment. Then he gently pushed your head back down to his chest, so that you weren’t looking at him when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. As if you weren’t already convinced. “I won’t throw off your day? I mean your night?”

You felt him shrug. “I was just gonna do homework.”

That drew a surprised laugh out of you. You’d almost forgotten that Roland wasn’t just your weird vampire hookup. He was your classmate too.

“Do you know that we’re in the same class?” you asked, playfully accusing.

“Yeah,” he admitted, with a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I recognized you when we got coffee.”

That surprised you. “I thought I was the only one,” you said.

“I noticed you sitting in back sometimes.” His hand was still resting against the side of your head, and his fingers moved absently through strands of your hair. “I thought you looked cool.”

“Good,” you said, which made him laugh. You grinned against his chest. “I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft, and he wrapped his arms more tightly around you.

[simp-ly-in-love]

Bummer Summer

Step 3 (18 y/o)

Summary: Jamie is having a hard day mentally and Cove is eager to help them out 

Words: 2100

Trigger Warning: I am basing this off of what a less severe depressive episode may look like. In this, Jamie is on medication and has been seeing a therapist for years. Cove is privy to their lows prior to this episode. If you are easily triggered by mentions of depression/ vague descriptions of dissociation please read at your own risk. And if you are feeling low and can access help, please do :)

You couldn’t quite put your finger on what had felt off when you woke up, besides the extra strong desire to stay nestled comfortably in bed. You had thought that perhaps you had just had a bit of morning laziness, that surely would pass after an hour or so of browsing on your phone. Doubt started to creep in around the 45 minute mark, and after the morning slowly crept into the afternoon, you realized that perhaps that wasn’t going to be the case after all.

The slightly bad taste in your mouth from morning breath did nothing to persuade you to get up, nor did the low rumble of your stomach or the dryness of your mouth. The idea leaving bed simply seemed like an increasingly impossible task for today.

Wanting to block out this uncomfortable realization, you pulled your covers over your head and willed yourself to fall back asleep. Mom and Ma must have been out for the day since they hadn’t been up to check on you by now. And you vaguely remembered Liz mentioning she was leaving for the day to meet up with some friends. On any other day, having the house to yourself might have been nice, but now it just felt lonely.

The staccato buzzing of your phone cut through the silence, and begrudgingly you checked to see who had texted you.

Cove:  Jamie Are you home? I haven’t seen any sign of you all day

You felt mildly bad that you didn’t have the energy to respond. But even that bit of remorse felt muted, far away somehow. With a sigh, you turned your phone off, not wanting any more potential interruptions. You closed your eyes once more, hoping to drift out of consciousness…

…

“Jamie?” A soft voice called out to you, accompanied by a series of light shakes to your shoulder, pulling you from your second nap of the day. A mop of green hair greeted you as you blearily blinked the sleep from your eyes. You felt your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, and the voice spoke again before you could ask what Cove was doing there.

“You read my messages, but didn’t reply. You never do that” Cove explained, sheepishly. It was true, you had always made time for a quick reply whenever you had gotten a message. “I got a bit anxious, so I figured I’d check on you…”

For a moment, silence filled the air once more, as you stared at one another. You could see the concern pooled in Cove’s eyes as he stared back at you. Still you found yourself at a loss and couldn’t find the words to reply.

“Did you take your meds today?” Cove asked, determined to figure out what was going on with you. His head swung to look at your desk as he spoke, searching to see if you’d taken your daily dose. His eyebrows raised slightly in alarm when he saw the day’s portion still occupied. Without a thought, he quickly crossed the room and grabbed your meds and a half open bottle of water that had been on your desk. He offered them to you, looking at you with a mixture of pleading and expectancy.

Using all of your strength, you sat up for the first time all day, gingerly taking the pills and open bottle from him. Cove smiled softly as he watched you take your meds and drain the rest of the water. He took it from you once empty and threw it in your trash can with ease before joining you on your bed

“Are you having a hard day?” He asked, and you replied with a nod. Cove’s lips parted, presumably to ask you another question, when he was cut off by a much louder groan from your stomach. After a moment of surprise he let out a little chuckle then said, “I guess that answers my next question”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment at the exchange, but were relieved to see nothing but a soft smile on Cove’s face. Of course he never would have laughed at you for something like this, but seeing him still look at you like he always had in your current state really helped any lingering unease.

“Tell you what; How about if you go get ready for the day, and I’ll go get us something to eat?” Cove suggested cheerfully. Though still muted, you felt your heart fill a bit. You could always count on him to take care of you at times like this. When you agreed, his smile grew wide.

“Up and at ‘em” he declared, hopping out of bed and offering you both of his hands to take. Allowing yourself to stretch your back first, you placed both of your hands in his and allowed him to help you out of bed. As you slowly shuffled around your room, grabbing clothes from here and there to change into, Cove offered some words of encouragement and praise. “Take as long as you need,” He said with a smile after dropping you off at the bathroom. You nodded in acknowledgement to him before closing the door.

…

You could feel a change in yourself as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom. You definitely felt lighter after cleaning up, without the feelings of shame and slight disgust weighing you down. Feeling fresh even gave you the energy to discard your old clothes in the hamper and make your bed before heading downstairs.

As promised, Cove was sitting at the kitchen table with two bags from your favorite fast food place and some tall water glasses. When he heard your padding over, he looked up from his phone and smiled. “You look great, Jamie!” he stated, with the same enthusiasm he had the night of the ORCA fundraiser. His enthusiasm brought a sheepish curve to your lips as you joined him at the table.

“I know it’s not the healthiest, but I figured you’d enjoy some comfort food” Cove rambled as he handed you your meal and one glass of water.

“Thanks” You said gratefully before digging in, not quite catching the proud expression Cove was wearing. You ate together in comfortable silence, and you had to admit it felt incredibly good to finally have a full stomach and some water in you.

The orange hue of evening sun was the first thing you had noticed once you had finally tuned into your surroundings. Your mouth opened in awe when you checked the clock in the kitchen and it read almost 7 pm.

“I can’t believe I spent the whole day in bed…” You mumbled with a mixture of disappointment and sadness. While your mental health was something that you had actively been working on improving for years, there were still days like today. Sometimes, it made you feel like all of the progress you had made had been thrown out the window.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself” Cove offered, his hand reaching across the table to capture one of yours. “I’m so proud of you for getting out of bed and getting ready,” he added, determined to re-inflate your mood. He let go only to clean up after you both and refill your waters.

Having only been satisfied after watching you drink two more full glasses of water, Cove suggested you go on a walk together. Truthfully, you weren’t quite feeling up to it, but you’d felt bad rejecting the idea when you knew he was only trying to help.

The sun was almost fully set by the time you’d arrived at the beach, adding a coolness to the air and the sand. Kicking off both of your shoes, Cove offered you a hand once more. You took it, allowing him to guide you to the shore. The coolness of the water was more shocking than you thought it’d be, causing you to jump a bit at the contact. A light laugh escaped from Cove, who seemed to be enjoying himself well enough as he watched you begin regrounding with the world.

You stood still, letting your eyes close as you focused on your surroundings. Taking a deep breath, you smelled the patent saltiness of the sea. The cool waves still washed over your ankles, though their chill was less shocking to you now. The distant cries of seagulls and chirps of crickets could be heard. A light wind gently stirred your hair, slightly tickling you. And the warm hand in yours offered a calming, comfortable presence.

When you reopened your eyes, the sky had changed from hues of orange to purples and blues. You turned to Cove, your rock for the day, and drew him in for a hug. He happily accepted, giving you a tight squeeze in return, his cheek resting on the top of your head. The two of you stayed like that until you were ready to let go, and to Cove’s delight, you were beaming at him.

“Thanks for taking care of me today, Cove”

“Thank you for going along with it,” he replied cheekily, flashing you a broad smile of his own. He knew you well enough to know that sometimes it took you more than one try to accept help when it was offered to you, especially on days like today. He was genuinely thrilled that you had allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him enough to let him take care of you. “Should we head back?”

“Sure” you agreed easily, this time offering him your hand to hold as you led the way home. You walked together, hand in hand, in silence until about halfway home when a thought suddenly occurred to you.”Hey Cove… How did you get in?”

A deep flush fell over Cove’s cheeks at the question. His free hand scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, his eyes averted from yours as he awkwardly replied, “I… may or may not have picked the lock at your window…”

“WHAT?!” You exclaimed, more surprised than upset really.

Flustered by your reaction, Cove panickily tried to explain, “The front door was locked- and I tried calling you but your phone was going straight to voicemail. Then I saw you in bed and tried to wake you but you didn’t hear me… So i just-” Cove fished out his utility knife and mimed picking your window lock.

“Sorry… Please don’t be mad” Cove pleaded, puppy dog eyes aimed straight at you. You could only shake your head ruefully at his antics.

“Maybe I should just leave my windows unlocked from now on…” you mused aloud, bringing a smile back to Cove’s. You weren’t quite sure if it was due to his lack of a punishment or because he genuinely found the idea appealing.

“Honestly, why didn’t we think of that years ago?” Cove huffed out in a laugh.

“True, it would have saved me from you waking me up in the middle of the night all the time” You teased back. By the time your joint laughter died down, you had reached the street between your houses.

“Thanks again, Cove” You said, simultaneously pulling him in for another hug.

“Anytime Jamie… I hope tomorrow’s a better day. And even if it’s not, I’ll always be right across the street” You felt your heart melt a bit at his offer, and you gave him an extra tight squeeze in response. You really had been blessed with the sweetest, and most wonderfully attentive neighbor.

“Goodnight, Jamie” Cove bid you. You did the same, finally releasing him from your embrace and made your way to your respective front doors. Of course you both looked back at another before heading inside, offering each other a smile and a wave before finally letting the door close shut.

***

Only when you were ready for bed did you recover your cell phone that you had accidentally left in bed when you made it earlier. After waiting a few minutes for it to turn back on, a series of buzzes went off in rapid succession.

Cove:  Helllooooo Earth to Jamieeeee Why didn’t you respond ? I’m going to try calling you…

Conveniently, you also had 3 missed calls

Cove:  That’s it, I’m coming over Reply if you don’t want me to Or if you do … On my way

You couldn’t help but laugh at his unreturned messages. If there was one thing you could always count on, it was definitely Cove cheering you up, you thought as you settled into bed, a smile resting firmly on your face.

[deniigi]

bro, work made me depressed that I literally left my seat to regain any resemblance of joy or something equivalent before breaking down again. Do you think you can provide a ficlet I involving Peter and Sam to cheer me up?

FUCK CAPITALISM

TAKE THIS

Title: Calibrating

Summary: Sam and Peter talk themselves towards a meaningful discussion.

---------

Peter did this thing—this infuriating thing where he texted shit like ‘come over’ and then Sam had to bend over backwards to be flirty and coy.

It was imperative that he came across as flirty and coy.

Im-fucking-perative, regardless of what Leilani said or Matt’s annoyance at what he called the ‘jungle of depravity’ that overtook the group chat pretty much daily.

Sam didn’t care.

If Peter texted the group or sent any message that might be construed upside-down as something romantic or sexual, Sam not only had to catch it, but he had to volley it back.

This, he told Leilani, sealed their No-Homo contract.

She stared at him.

He decided to demonstrate.

“See, here, look, I’ll show you,” he said, dragging out his phone. “Exhibit A. There he is, see? Asking about the strength of PVC pipe in pounds per meter like a fuckin’ tease. Now I can’t just let him think that I saw that and didn’t think of it as a metaphor, alright? So I say—”

“Sam, why does he need to know the strength of PVC pipe?” Leilani interrupted.

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point of this discussion.

“I’m sending a winky-face,” Sam informed her as he did that very thing.

Leilani stared harder than before.

But look, skepticism was unrewarded. Peter texted a kiss right back and said ‘oh boo, you always know just want to say.’

How could she not see the No-Homo? Sam could do this all day. He could and there would be absolutely no problems and he wouldn’t want to suffocate himself in his pillow at the end of it all.

It was fine.

“Samuel,” Leilani said, “I’m going to tell you something and I want you to hear it with an open heart. Will you open your heart for me?”

Sam spun around in his chair and arranged his arms and legs so that they were as open as they could feasibly be without being obscene.

“I am more open than a boiled clam,” he informed her.

Leilani blinked slowly, then shook her head and checked over her shoulders. She waved him in closer. Then closer. And then close enough that he could smell her perfume on her neck.

“You’re the tease,” she said.

Then she left the backroom. And Sam could only stare after her, frozen in horror as his wide-open heart wrinkled in on itself, picking up mass and gravity until it was naught but a black hole.

“I’m the tease?” he whispered to himself in shock.

Oh no.

OH NO.

 --

  “SENSEI.”

Matt dropped his collection of folders and swore, clutching at his chest.

“We have discussed volume, Sam,” he said, bending down to collect his paper children.

Sam took the opportunity to throw both arms around his neck from behind as a threat.

“Don’t lie,” he warned. “Swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, amen.”

Matt stood up and Sam felt his toes leave the floor. He hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“Or what?” Matt asked, 110% unfazed.

Sam wished that his feet weren’t kicking around in air here. It really put a dent in his intimidation factor.

“Am I a tease?” he asked.

Matt faced front with heavy eyebrows. Sam couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he knew that aura of irritation.

“If you have to ask the question, then you already know the answer,” Matt said. “Does that help?”

“No, I hate you now, actually,” Sam told him.

Matt dropped him right on his ass.

 --

 There had to be a way to attain proof. To determine once and for all that it was Sam who was in the wrong here, misinterpreting things like the genius that he was.

Thankfully, Sam’s experience of growing up as a non-only child for the last two decades had prepared him exactly for this type of conversation.

 SC: HANNAH AM I A TEASE???

HC: yes

HC: next question

SC: FUCK.

SC: WHAT IF ITS NOT NO-HOMO?

HC: my dear brother, the only options if something is not no-homo is for it to be no-no or homo-homo.

SC: Murder me

HC: gladly

SC: I’m in possible homo-homo with spiderman

HC: are you sure it’s not no-no?

SC: MURDER ME

HC: okay but like if it’s no-no then this is not a problem, right?

SC: If it’s no-no then I’ve read every sign wrong and I deserve to become a partially eaten tadpole awash in an indifferent boiling sea

HC: okay so we’re leaning INTO the drama today I gotcha. Alright but like, just for the sake of arguing, what if it was homo-homo?

SC: then I need you to bury my body somewhere no one will ever find it because my heart can’t stand requited love you know this about me.

HC: give me your login

SC: thank you I love you you’re the only person who matters

 --

 BT: Spiderman.

SM: Blindspot. DMing? You okay?

BT: this is Hannah.

SM: OH

SM: hi Hannah are you okay? Did you need something?

BT: My brother never got tested for reading comprehension but would have failed anyways. Can you arbitrate an arbitrary argument for us?

SM: I’m positive that there is a link between those two ideas that I am missing, but sure?

BT: okay are you ready?

SM: my loins have been girded.

BT: gross. you two are made for each other. Okay: what are your opinions on 24yo Chinese dudes with bad vision who are 5’7” tall, with terrible hair and brains as big and gaseous as Jupiter?

SM: positive

BT: you’re so romantic spidey.

SM: I know

BT: I’m going to tell him now

SM: WAIT DON’T TELL HIM

BT: byeeeeeee

 --

 Sam was going to have a heart attack. He couldn’t look at his phone. He was just going to lay here until he wasted away into a fossil.

Mm, yes, what a wonderful way to escape any and all feelings. That was—

His phone chirped and he nearly fell out of his chair in a hurry to answer it.

 HC: [image] [image]

HC: you owe me your bones

SC: AFASDFADFAS:FJaf’asdfjahsdlfihasdl’fas

SC: TAKE THEM

HC: if you fuck spiderman you have to get pregnant and demand alimony for your beautiful mixed babies Samuel

SC: Darling sister, we’ve talked about this. it isn’t going to happen I still have yet to steal a womb

HC: try harder

HC: ttyl

--

 Okay, this was fine.

Everything was fine.

Spidey liked Sam back, it was no big deal. Spidey liked everyone back. Even the teases.

Even.

The.

Teases.

Fuck, Sam had to move.

 --

 Foggy caught him biting his nails to pieces over the copy machine and asked him if he was okay. He was not. Foggy could read this off him. He didn’t ask again, but he did say that if Sam was feeling particularly anxious about something he was welcome to go have his breakdown upstairs in Kirsten’s kitchen instead of downstairs among the files.

Sam appreciated his offer. He hiked up the stairs, and halfway up, his phone chirped.

His heart stopped.

It chirped again, and then again. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, it was chirping every couple of seconds with messages being typed and sent at mach speed.

He kicked off his shoes and went to go stand over Kirsten’s sink to open the first one.

  PP: Sam it’s peter hey listen your sister messaged me

PP: and was asking some pretty invasive questions and I replied to her. I don’t know if you saw them but I just wanted to say that if that makes you uncomfortable in any way know that I absolutely don’t mind and I’ll stop

PP: you can tell me to fuck off if that crossed your boundaries. I shouldn’t have even messaged her back without asking you

PP: and obviously in future I won’t talk to her until I’ve cleared it with you I just wasn’t thinking I’m never thinking it’s a little hard to think sometimes

PP: especially when you message me back and I get caught up in the games and the emojis and stuff and like I’m sure that sometimes I overstep but I don’t mean to and you can tell me at any point if you want me to stop

PP: I guess I just really like to talk to you sometimes and it’s fun to have someone to banter with who actually banters back like not in a mean way but in a really nice and funny way. you’re an easy guy to talk to is what I’m saying

PP: which I’m sure you get a lot. I don’t mean that I want to like tell you all my problems I swear it’s not that it’s just more of a AHHHHH I don’t even know what I’m saying I think it’s sorry???

PP: I’m sorry??? I don’t mean to imply anything that isn’t there and I don’t want to make you feel like you have to either. Ar e you mad? Please don’t be mad okay wait no I’ve sent like seven fucking messages I’m being a creep oh my god IM SORRY ILL SHUT UP NOW OKAY SORRY BYE

  Oh nooooo.

The panic-induced infodump was not only familiar but horrendously endearing.

Sam had to explode now.

Man. Bummer.

  SC: it’s okay Peter

PP: OH THANK GOD

PP: is it tho??? Are you sure?

SC: I have positive feelings towards people like you too

  Sam’s heart pounded. He almost locked his phone and threw it in the sink, but another text came in just as that thought finished crossing his mind.

  PP: you do?

SC: yes of course I do

PP: oh nice

SC: yeah

  Annnnnnnd cue mutual nerd awkwardness. Great. Well done, Sam, you’ve done it again.

He sighed and turned away from the sink and sunk down onto the floor with his back against it.

Such a loser, Chung. So painfully awkward. Would it kill you to, just for once, slow down and chill for a minute?

God.

  PP: hey sam?

  No, Sam just wanted to sit on this floor and wallow.

  PP: hello? Are you still there?

 --

Sam let his head fall back against the sink. He closed his eyes.

His phone rang in his hand and he nearly had a heart attack. His fingers scrabbled over its face and the caller ID read ‘Peter Parker.’

Oh god.

Oh no.

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.

“Hello?” he answered to the scratchy phone silence on the other side of the line.

He frowned.

“Hello?” he tried again, a smidge less desperate.

“Hi.”

There he was.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Sorry, just got awkward.”

Peter laughed through the line.

“Me too,” he said. “That was awkward.”

Yeah.

“Yeah.”

A long pause.

“I’m doing it again,” Sam moaned into his hand.

“No, no. Hey, you’re good,” Peter said. “I was just uh. Calling because.” He trailed off.

Sam waited.

“Sam? You still there?”

He startled and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “Sorry, zoning out a little bit. You know, busy day.”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “Yeah, I know.”

Sam breathed as quietly as he could. He could almost hear Peter doing the same on his end.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta g—” Sam started.

“Hey, do you like me?”

HNG.

“No?” Sam answered and then punched himself in the leg. “Sorry. Uh. I didn’t—I mean, uh. Yes. Of course I like you. You’re a really good person. I admire you a lot.”

Hannah, oh Hannah, where is thine shovel? Sam needed it to dig this grave deeper, please.

“Oh. Okay, I just—I guess I uh, have a hard time reading the tone of your texts sometimes,” Peter said.

“It’s okay, I get that a lot,” Sam said. “I’ll try harder to be more direct.”

“No,” Peter said. “No, no, you don’t have to change anything.”

“Oh? Okay, well. Maybe I still will, though,” Sam said.

If Peter wouldn’t have heard him, he would have started to try to fit his whole fist in his mouth.

Five minutes of conversation and they were still saying nothing.

“Sam?”

He swallowed.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Next time you’re in the city, would you, uh, maybe want to go out somewhere? With me?”

Out? What like, to a movie or something?

“Yeah, just like that,” Peter said. “’Cause I uh. Would like to. Do that, I mean. With you.”

“With me?” Sam asked. “Oh right, and your other friends, uh, names—sorry, I’m bad with names. N-ned?”

“No,” Peter said oddly abruptly. “Well, I mean—I don’t mean it like that. I just—just with you. For now. That’s what I mean.”

“Oh. Uh. Kinda like a date?” Sam asked through the forcefield of self-hatred that felt like it spanned the entire continental US.

There was a pause. Sam held his breath.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Exactly like a date. If you don’t mind—you know, doing that with me.”

AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

“Are you trying to lure me to a secondary location, Mr. Parker?” Sam asked seriously.

The laugh that met him made all the muscles in his shoulders relax.

“Maybe if the bit at the first location goes well,” Peter said. Then added hurriedly, “If you’re down for that.”

Sam was down for it right now.

Actually, maybe not in Kirsten’s kitchen. But like, right now in a different location.

“If it’s a movie date, we can do it through Netflix Party,” he pointed out faux-lightly. “It wouldn’t be the same, but we could do it this weekend, even. Saturday—I’m off Saturday.”

Peter said nothing for a long time.

“Okay. Saturday,” he finally agreed, “I can do Saturday. Kinda hard to hold your hand through a screen, but I can give it my best shot?”

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffff.

“Oh, I bet you will,” Sam nearly choked.

“You’re really cute, Sam.”

NO. SHUT UP. YOU ARE.

“Thanks.”

“I wanted to kiss you last time you were here, but I was too, uh. Shy. Embarrassed. One of them.”

Sam was going to puke, but in like, the happiest kind of way.

“I like you a lot too, Peter,” he whispered.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No.”

“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”

“Shut up, I’m not. I—the old man’s downstairs, his ears aren’t as good through ceilings, but I just want to make sure—”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said. “I’m sure that’s what it is. So I’ll see you Saturday? Maybe Facetime or something?”

“Yeah, Saturday,” Sam said. “I’ll send you a time when I know. I’ve gotta go. Meltdown-alloted-breaktime is over.”

Peter laughed.

“Alright, man, I’ll talk to you later. Bye now.”

“Bye,” Sam said lamely.

He hung up the phone. He did not scream. But he did fist pump and then fall onto his side.

 ---------

Here’s to hoping things get easier for you anon!!

[kdramachitchat]

Yumi's Cells Episode 3 Recap - First impressions always count. Yumi and Woong heads out to a homecooked meal restaurant & a frog festival on their first date.

Episode 3 of Yumi’s Cells begins with Yu-mi forcing herself to laugh through Gu-Woong’s awful jokes. Thankfully their coffee is ready and Emotion Cell as livid, with Gu-Woong keeping the conversation flowing by discussing what he’s working on back home. Gu-Woong is a game maker and showed the game about puppies and looks like Yumi is interested.

In Cell Land Hunger strikes. And just in time too given Emotion and the other cells are so tired. Hilariously, Hunger plays the belly pipe which is what causes her stomach to grumble.

Gu-Woong hears this but pretends he doesn’t, tells her it's already dinner time and invites  Yu-Mi to join him at a restaurant of his choice. In fact, she absolutely loves the food there too, downing the dishes. He even let her take the first bite too, he's polite and it seems that Yu-Mi is totally impressed with the food enjoying everything.

This is enough to win over a lot of the cells – except Emotion and Anxious Cell. She keeps her guard up despite Gu-Woong hitting all the right notes. On the otherhand, Anxious Cell is worried about Yu-Mi's blouse getting ruined with the boiling dish that may splatter on her. Before she even took the first bite, Woong is fast enough and gave her a apron. He's a total gentleman. The Cells are impressed that he's considerate, Emotions still dont like him and Anxious does. He has good manners. They both enjoy home-cooked restaurants too which both of them appreciate. Even Fashion Cell likes what he wore its elaborately calculated as a perfect effortless look. Hahaha. Fashion Cell instantly likes him so does the rest of the Cells cept for Emotion.

Well i think first impressions are always the most important. With my second impression of Woong, i love how he ignored the grumble of her stomach to try not to embarrass her he politely solved the situation which is considered a plus point for me. 

After the meal, Woong caught Yu-Mi who's about to pay for their meal but Woong stopped her and tells her that she'll pay, while accidentally holding her hand. The Cells started floating on air like they're on cloud 9.

Woong suggests they go to the park and check out the frogs. The date went so well and she's totally not into the frog festival. Though the Cells are having fun and wants to go but not Emotion. Woong pays for the entrance tickets and the ticket lady mentions that they get a discount if they're a couple. Woong says no and Yu-Mi says they are. Woong ended up surprised. The ticketlady gave them headbands to upload on social media and they'll get even more discounts if they take the headband.

While there, one of the workers asks if they’re a couple. While a bit awkward to begin with, Finance kicks in for Yu-Mi and focuses on how much money she can save if she says yes. Well, one thing leads to another and the pair snap a couple photo together, which Yu-Mi decides to put up on social media.

This act attracts the attention of Ru-Bi, who immediately rings Gu-Woong and asks what’s going on. Woong ends their conversation quickly and keeps his focus on Yu-Mi. Nosy Ruby needs to get her thoughts away from Yu-Mi like she's obsessed with who she dates. Woong tells her that Ru-Bi is weird because she talks to him in 3rd-person and Yu-Mi laughed at his comment. She laughed for real this time, finally. Emotion is pissed and wants to go home, Anxious is worried about Ru-Bi. Woong tells her that he can't really lie and says it like he means it. I like him. The Cells does too, he's honest, polite, considerate. All good factors. Emotion Cell is now impressed and decides not to use the robot doll cell.

With the date going so well and Yu-Mi impressed by Woong's compliments she decided to treat him and buy popcorn. Woong tells her that she doesn't have to be grateful when he told her she's cute its because he's honest. The Cells like him too as long as he doesn't do those awkward jokes and they all approve. Hysterius Cell shows up in Cell land and presses the mood lever down, sending Yu-Mi into a depressive downward spiral. Because of this, she suddenly skips out and decides to go home. This is just terrible. The date was doing so and its all Hysteriuis Cell's fault. For once i'm actually mad at a Cell, i don't think i'm going to like him very much.

Things all got very awkward when they both head home. Woong tried to make her laugh with his dad jokes but Yu-Mi wasn't feeling well and head up to the bus. She wants to save herself from heartache like her past relationships. After the date, Woong sees Saeyi heading home and tells her that he likes Yu-Mi. Once he got back, this terrible parting effected Woong too and he's worried that she's not replying to his messages. Meanwhile, in Woong's Cell land a imaginary Yu-Mi has taken over. Like she's all he's thinking about. Woong waits for her texts and looks like he was about to tear up. He immediately heads online to search reasons for her not replying during their first date. With Hysteria still attacking Cell land, Emotion, Fashion and Anxious Cells reach out to Reason Cell. Reason Cells tell them that Hysteria Cell is afraid that Yu-Mi may struggle and will hurt again. They all find a solution and it's Hunger Cell they can rely on. Yu-Mi looses her appetite, lays down and didn't bother replying to Woong. They don't want to think that Woong was rejected by her.

Jumps to conclusions finding reasons as to why she's not replying. Goes on forums to find comments, he thinks about what he has done during their blind date. He believes it’s his beard.  Even asked advice from Louis and he tells Woong that her not replying means he's dumped. On her way to work, she misses her bus and sits down on the bench seeing the candy that Woong gives her on her back. The lights went back on Cells land after she ate the candy. Yu-Mi eventually messages to let him know she’s okay and had fun. Sigh of relief. So it's definitely a misunderstanding on his part because Yu-Mi fell asleep. Woong decided to shave his beard that morning! Sae-Yi is surprised that Woong shaved his beard with the reason being it's a sign of a man's pride but he didn't give a exact reason for him to do so. It just shows that Woong likes her alot.

Yu-Mi messages Woong and tells him to get to work safetly and Woong is happy. Woong messages back and lets her know that he’s shaved his beard. Hilariously, Yu-Mi ended up confused but really didn't care if he did, thinking it's probably one of his jokes.  Even the Cells are confused thinking it's probably slang or something bad. Fashion Cells takes it literally and is impressed once again.

While on the way to work after the bus, Ru-Bi annoys her once again asks about her date. She needs to stop with her nosy attitude. Yu-Mi is stressed and wants to ignore Ru-Bi, so she skipped the elevator and went up the stairs. The office found out about her blind date and her office mates are being nosy. She's stressed about the situation and so are the cells who are wanting for Ru-Bi to shut her mouth. It's a headache and the cells village is about to blow up. The whole day Yu-Mi hasn't eaten and Hunger Cell isn't doing well.

Woong texting Yumi asking her if she has any plans. After Yu-Mi telling him that she doesn't have plans after work. Woong replies back and asks her out on a dinner date. Before she can even reply, a staff who's in a hurry bumped into Yu-Mi, which led Yu-Mi’s phone to break. Urgh. Can the day get any worst? 2nd date please and poor Woong. Yu-Mi is contemplating on pursuing with him and is letting out her feelings to a co-worker. She's afraid to feel hurt, tells her co-worker that her phone broke because it's a sign of the universe for her to not see him anymore.

Woong seeks council from Sae-Yi and Louis, who checks out the text messages and believes that Yu-Mi wanted to end the conversation because of her sentence structures but he didn’t get the hint, making him look clingy and uncomfortable. As the trio about to head out, Woong stays in and tells Sae-Yi that he doesn't condemn to people telling him what to do and that he's slow-witted. That's just the way he is. He knows himself well.

At work, Yu-Mi feels ill she excuses herself to her boss and decides to go home. It's raining outside and she didn't bring an umbrella.  Ru-Bi follows her out of the building and suggests she ring Woong using her number and let him know. After all her pent up frustration, she let it out on Ru-Bi and tells her it's enough. Ru-Bi says that she's just trying to help because she supports them both. Hysteria Cell on the other hand is enjoying this and wants her to release all her negative emotions.

Yu-Mi admitted that she’s always been alone – and will continue to be alone because that's what makes her comfortable. Can someone give Yu-Mi a hug? As they talk, Woong suddenly shows up with an umbrella. Yu-Mi turns and looks at him with amazement. Her knight and shining armor.

[poisonedapples]

Roman Gets Help 1/5: Bad Nights

Part One: Virgil

Part Summary: Roman is always trying to make his anxiety more manageable with a bunch of different tactics. But a disorder is a disorder, and some days are worse than others. But at least his best friend Virgil is around to help.

Part of the Service Dog AU!

Pairings: Platonic Prinxiety

Warnings: Past panic attacks, medication, anxiety, Remus making poop jokes because he’s Remus, swearing and food mentions

Word Count: 2,751

Taglist: @hold-our-destiny @pricklyfish777 @romansleftshoulderpad

Notes: Cornybird on Ao3 deserves Many Squishmallows for editing so much of my stuff, including this. So send visual squishmallow vibes to her, she deserves it

Virgil really should have known something was weird when Roman didn’t text back.

The two had made plans during lunch to meet up at Roman’s house so he could help with Virgil’s Spanish homework. Roman was infinitely better with language stuff than Virgil could ever dream to be, and even when the work was done, it was always nice to hang out in his room and get away from his wild parents every once in a while. But since Roman left school early and Virgil had to stay after for band practice, he hadn’t heard or seen Roman in a while.

That in itself wasn’t weird, though. What was weird was that when Virgil texted him that he was on his way, Roman didn’t respond. Not even with an emoji reaction or a simple ‘okay’. But even then, what was even weirder was that Virgil was right outside his door, texting Roman to open it for him, and he still wasn’t responding.

Virgil checked the last three messages he sent to Roman’s phone. All of them were marked as delivered but not read, which was also very concerning. What could Roman be doing that he hadn’t checked his phone in thirty minutes? Virgil got anxious when he didn’t read messages immediately, let alone waiting half an hour.

Virgil sent him one last text before putting his phone away. You there? I’m outside.

No response. Virgil knocked on the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting and shifting on his feet for someone to open the door. After a couple minutes, he started to think Roman had just forgotten.

However, a slight spark of hope rose up in him at the sound of the front door opening. But when Virgil looked up from his shoes to the person at the door, he felt his shoulders sag.

It wasn’t Roman who had opened the door. There was no shy and apologetic smile with Princess right under his feet. Instead, it was his bastard brother in ripped jeans and a green tank top, blowing bubblegum like a bully in a 90s Nickelodeon show.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite emo! What brings you here, Raven Way?” Remus asked, leaning on the door frame with a cocky smile.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ve already used that one.”

“It’s my favorite nickname for you. It’s the perfect brand of insulting. It has spice to it.”

“I’m glad you’re entertained then. Is Roman out somewhere?”

Remus cocked an eyebrow. “No, he’s been up in his room. Last I checked he was as passed out as a corpse.”

“Okay...can I come in then?”

Remus smiled and opened the door for Virgil, taking a bow as he stepped inside. Virgil rolled his eyes again. This guy is so fucking weird. “You know where his room and the shitter is. Just follow the trail of dog hair to his royal highness.”

“You terrify me, Remus.”

“Good! That’s the aesthetic I’m going for. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a bigass thing of chili dip in the fridge that may or may not be expired. We’ll see!” Virgil’s eyes narrowed as Remus skipped back to the kitchen and right to the fridge, but he really didn’t want to be around for that mess. Instead, Virgil went upstairs and turned left to Roman’s room, the colorful Disney decorations covering his door. Virgil knocked twice, but when met with no answer, he came inside anyway.

The first thing Virgil noticed was the lights. The windows and blinds were shut tight so no sunlight could get through while Roman’s fairy lights around his room were turned on. The soft twinkling gave the room a feeling of calmness, but the sight on the bed was more concerning than tranquil. Princess was sat down on top of the bed comforter with two arms wrapped around her, Roman blending in with the sheets he was under as he shoved his face in his dog’s fur. At least she didn’t seem to mind.

Roman looked up at the sound of the door opening. Virgil felt his heart sink when he saw the tear streaks down his face and his messed up hair, but Roman tried his best to respond to Virgil anyway. “Hey…”

Virgil took off his shoes and threw his backpack onto the floor next to the door. “Hey, dude. You look like shit.”

Roman made a strange huff sound, probably meant to be a laugh. “Thanks.”

He buried his face back into Princess’ fur, and Virgil felt that pang of worry grow stronger. He moved to the other side of the bed, sitting alongside Roman and his pile of blankets and pillows. “You okay?”

Roman shrugged. “I’m doing better.”

“What happened?”

“Panic attack.”

Virgil sucked the air through his teeth as a way to say yikes. “Seems like it was a pretty bad one.”

Princess rolled over onto Roman’s chest, and Roman cuddled even closer than what Virgil thought was possible. He looked so small when he did that. “Worse than usual.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No. Sometimes it just happens.” Roman kissed the top of Princess’ head. “Anxiety just...does that.”

“Yeah, I get it. Trust me, out of everyone you know, I’d probably be the one to understand it the most.”

“...Yeah.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of them. Virgil didn’t actually know what to do when Roman was like this. He’s stopped him from having panic attacks in the past, but he’d never seen him look this bad. Roman was curled in on himself under the covers, gripping onto Princess for dear life in an attempt to soothe himself. His pile of stuffed animals usually spread around the bed were now in a giant pile around his body, and his weighted blanket poked out from under the comforter too. It looked like he was trying his hardest to get comfortable, and Virgil didn’t know what else he could do. A distraction? A nap?

Well, only one way to find out.

Virgil took a deep breath in. “...Is there any way I can help?”

Roman shrugged again. “Not that I know.”

“Did you take a nap? That usually helps me the most.”

“I just woke up. My meds knocked me out.”

“Your meds?”

Roman took a pill bottle from his nightstand and showed it to Virgil. He read the confusing label that all medicine bottles have, but the name of the pills was long and unfamiliar in Virgil’s mind. Roman placed them back once Virgil got a good look and curled in on himself more. “Panic attack meds. They help you calm down really quick when you’re having an attack. They always put me to sleep after. Remus likes to call them my tranquilizer dart.”

Virgil snorted. “I mean...accurate name. I’ve just never seen you with those before.”

“I only take them on bad days. My therapist warned me about how I shouldn’t take them after every panic attack, because then I’ll never learn how to deal with them on my own, and I might get addicted. Which I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, I know about the addiction thing. I used to be on anti-anxiety until last year.”

Roman tilted his head up to look at Virgil for the first time. “Really?”

“Yup. I got eased off them after a while, though. Now I just take an antidepressant, which honestly isn’t much. I think everyone in our friend group is on some kind of meds.”

“...Patton?” Roman asked.

“Patton’s one depressed mother fucker. I say that out of love, but yes, he’s also on antidepressants.”

“And Logan?”

“...Dude. Epilepsy.”

Roman let out a silent oh. “...I forgot you take meds for that.”

“Our brains are fucked up and we accept this.”

Roman flashed a small smile but didn’t respond. After that, the two had fell silent as Virgil awkwardly patted a beat on his leg to put his nervous fidgeting to use.

What do you do for someone getting out of a panic attack? It was obvious Roman wasn’t in a talking mood, but it was killing him inside to just...sit there while he looked so helpless. But he’d never had to deal with this with a friend before. The worst he’d dealt with were Patton’s bad depression days, and those had nothing on how horrible Roman looked right now. And if he already took a nap...what else were you supposed to do after a panic attack?

Virgil thought back to his own experiences. Of course, Virgil’s anxiety was nothing compared to Roman’s, but it was better than nothing. And comfort worked no matter how bad you felt, even if it was only a little.

He thought back to his own parents. How his mom would hold him and let him cry into his shoulder if he needed to, but that was too awkward for him to do with Roman. His dad would let him curl up and watch him play games on the console, which could maybe work…

...Then Virgil remembered another thing his mom did once after one of his worst panic attacks. It might be a bit embarrassing because of intimacy, but it would help Roman feel better. And that’s all that matters.

“I’m gonna go get some stuff, okay?” Virgil said, “You stay right here.”

Roman hummed. “Wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but okay.”

With that, Virgil hopped out of Roman’s bed and left the bedroom.

First, he needed a water bottle. Roman probably had some water when he took his meds, but it likely wasn’t enough to stop a headache after all the crying. Virgil went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. While he was there, he looked through the rest of the fridge and noticed that there was no container of chili dip in there anymore. Gross.

Expired chili dip aside, he would need a face rag as well. Virgil went through a hallway on the first floor to the older bathroom downstairs, looking through the drawers for a decent cloth. A small one was hidden in the back of the drawer with some bottles of face wash and lotion, so Virgil grabbed that and took a mental note to put it back later. He stood in front of the faucet and stared at it for a while.

Was cold or hot water better for getting tears off someone’s face? Warm water seemed like it’d be more comfortable, but cold water could also be more refreshing. He thought about the possibilities for a while and settled on warm based on his own preferences, turning the hot and cold handles to where the water was only slightly warm, wetting a side of the cloth then turning the faucet off.

Before he left the bathroom, Virgil grabbed a couple squares of toilet paper and then headed out the door. He was back in Roman’s room not even five minutes later, setting his stuff on the nightstand for a second as he grabbed his DS from his bag and turned it on. Roman glanced up from the bed with a confused look, but didn’t say anything. Virgil came back next to the bed and motioned for Roman to move to the middle. Reluctantly, and with some shifting of Princess still at his side, Roman did so.

Virgil sat in Roman’s old spot and grabbed the wad of toilet paper. “Here, sit up and blow your nose. The last thing you need right now is more breathing problems.”

Roman grunted as she shimmied out from under his weighted blanket to sit up against the headboard of his bed. He took the toilet paper from Virgil and blew. “...Thanks.”

“No problem. Now just stick with me for this next part, because I’m not good with touchy-touchy shit, so this’ll be a little awkward.”

Roman gave Virgil a confused look, but he didn’t say anything. He grabbed the damp cloth and silently tilted Roman’s head to face him. Virgil tentatively lifted the cloth to his face and wiped the tears from under his eyes, the gesture mixed with the warm water making Roman hum in content. Virgil didn’t acknowledge what was happening, he just wiped off his friend’s face, flipping to the dry part of the cloth to dry him off after.

“There. That should help you feel less gross, anyway.”

“Thanks...it helped.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Virgil set the cloth to the side and handed Roman the water bottle. “And drink this, it’ll help with that nasty headache you probably have.”

Roman twisted the cap open and chugged the bottle, finishing half of it in record speed before putting it down again. Virgil could tell by how fast he chugged it that his head was probably throbbing.

“Feeling a little better now?” Roman nodded. “Wanna watch me play Harvest Moon until you probably pass out again?”

He nodded again, Virgil scooting closer to him so Roman could place his head on his shoulder as he watched. His hand combed through Princess’ fur as Princess trapped the other under her paw to lick. Most people would think it was gross, but considering licking was one of her grounding techniques, he was desensitized to it by now. “Which one do you have?”

“A New Beginning. I’ll show you all my cows because they’re bomb as fuck. My first cow is named Oven and I have a baby one named Chaos.”

Roman laughed as Virgil started up the game. “Awesome. You play it often?”

“Eh, sometimes. It’s not my favorite game, but I carry it with me because it’s good for calming anxiety down. All I gotta do is feed my animals and mine and shit. Nothing else matters, you know?”

Roman nodded as best he could from Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil loaded up his save file and started to show Roman around his farm, mostly skipping the crops and going straight to the pets and farm animals with the most ridiculous names Virgil could get away with using only six letters. Virgil chatted away about his game and read all the speech bubbles out loud, showing off his wife who he swears he married platonically since his character was obviously gay and talking about his rivalry with the hair stylist. Roman wasn’t responding much, just a few hums and little laughs here and there, but Virgil didn’t mind. So long as his friend was feeling better, that was all that mattered.

A while later, Virgil was baking desserts for a contest being held in town when he spoke up again. “I’m shit at cooking good stuff in this game, but I can make some neat pancakes, apparently. I’m gonna make this contest my bitch.”

There was no response. That wasn’t very strange in itself, but usually when Virgil sweared, Roman at least made a small huff of a laugh from his shoulder. But this time, he was completely quiet. Virgil looked over at his shoulder when he almost awwww’ed out loud.

Roman had fallen back asleep, his mouth open slightly with his arms cuddling Princess extra close as she seemed to relax alongside him. He was adorable, and in a moment of softness that Virgil would deny to the end of his days, he helped Roman to lay back in bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Roman still clung slightly to him even as he slept, so Virgil accepted his fate and moved to curl up alongside him, continuing his game with a smile on his face.

“Your sleep schedule is gonna be absolutely fucked, dude.” Virgil said. There was no response, obviously, and Virgil didn’t talk to his sleeping friend after that. He just took a mental note to tell his parents he was staying the night before it got too late and kept caring for his farm.

Maybe later he’d wake Roman up and get him some dinner, letting him recharge and take a shower before they actually had to go to bed. He’d be too awake to actually sleep at first, but the company of his friend and the comfort of his dog would keep him calm through that, even when Roman hated being awake past eleven. Patton may even find out and tease Virgil about having a heart after all, which Virgil would deny until the end of his days. But his edgy reputation wasn’t what mattered right now.

Instead, Virgil smiled and cuddled closer as Roman slept peacefully.

[dragonleesupporter]

Incomplete Without You (Part 1)

Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been dead for so long. I wanted to make this for a loong time but lost motivation multiple times and nearly lost the whole damn file.

WARNING: Triggers for disablement, depression, talk of a suicide attempt, and panic attacks.

He grumbled as he was pushed along the sidewalk. He had every reason to complain, every reason to be upset, especially when a jogger moved past them. He was always told to be thankful to still be alive with his strange condition. Well, at least he could move his head and face muscles.

            “C’mon man, you said a view of the lake would make you feel better!” Remy prodded his cheek. “Where’s that smile?”

            “Dead. Long dead. Like the rest of my soul.” Virgil growled.

            “Ugh. This job’s sooo boring!” The sunglass-wearing punk complained.

            “Then forfeit your salary so the rest of me can die in peace.”

            Virgil was paralyzed from the shoulders, down. He couldn’t feel his body and needed constant assistance from those willing to put up with his acidic, pessimist attitude to help him do… pretty much everything. He couldn’t even hold his goddamn diploma when he graduated high school. Remy had to hold it for him. He had to give the coffee lover credit where credit was due. He was the one who had lasted the longest as his caretaker. Taking him on “walks” as to not make him feel helplessly alone. Thankfully, his parents did everything else, like dress him and clean him and lay him down to sleep.

            Even though he didn’t feel as alone with Remy keeping up gossipy conversations, he did feel piercing envy for anyone he saw around him. Laughing with their friends, running, swimming, riding bicycles, dancing… Not to mention the people that made fun of him, and yet he was supposed to be more positive that he wasn’t dead? Death would merciful to someone in Virgil’s position. He couldn’t even kill himself. Not to say he didn’t try. The closest he had gotten was when he had annoyed someone enough to shove him into the lake, who was unaware of his condition, while Remy was in the bathroom. Little did he know that the sassy teen was a fast pisser and was able to rescue him.

 Why couldn’t he just be fucking normal? Even for a day?

 “Oh hey, that man child texted you again.” Remy’s naturally condescending voice interrupted his thoughts. But he couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Puppylover99? What did he say?”

 “Work is super fun today! Got to hug a lot of people! Every time I hugged someone, I thought of you, kiddo!” Remy put on a high-pitched feminine-like voice, which made Virgil laugh, no matter how much he hated it.

            “You ass!” He would’ve hit him playfully if he could.

            “Is that what you want me to say?” Remy gave a cocky smirk, opening up messages.

            “No no no!” He shook his head madly, making his caretaker laugh even harder than Virgil did.

            “So… what- oh! He sent another.” Virgil’s smile widened as a small blush made its way onto his face, even though he was trying his best to fight it. “Anyway, I was wondering when I’d be able to hug you in person! I know we both live in Purble County.”

            Virgil’s smile was gone instantly. He had never physically met with any of his online friends before… What would he think? That he… wouldn’t be able to hug him back? Tears filled his eyes, and he couldn’t even wipe them away.

            Remy quickly pulled onto an alleyway so no one would see him like this. The caretaker quickly wiped his face and massaged the base of his neck to calm him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve read it and warned you first.”

            “It’s fine, Remy…” He sniffled.

            He was just about calmed down when he saw two people cheering just outside the alley, diving into each other’s arms.

            “It’s you!”

          “I can’t believe I found you!”

            Soulmates were a natural part of life in this world. Usually in the form of blanked out tattoos on someone’s skin that gets filled in when they meet their soulmate. There are other soulmates whose signs are a bit different, however. There was a case ten years ago where two people, one blind in the right eye, and the other blind in the left that magically gained full sight upon meeting each other. They were pronounced soulmates and are still together to this day. There were other cases where individuals didn’t have tattoos or anything of the sort, and lived their whole life out without a lover, claiming it was meant to be that way. Others have multiple soulmates. The subject is so complex, Virgil had to take multiple classes on it in high school.

 Virgil had been told by scientists and priests alike that he most likely wouldn’t have a soulmate based on the religious belief that cripples couldn’t contribute enough to a relationship, (welcome to Virgil’s church-hell) and the scientific data doctors collected from him on a weekly basis. Most of the population that was physically disabled in a 2018 case study found that they never found soulmates. Since Virgil was such a rare case, the doctors demanded data be collected from him every week to see if they couldn’t figure out what had caused it and if a cure couldn’t be found. His parents greatly profited from this, and so did he to an extent, but it just made him feel like a specimen instead of a living person.

 And seeing two people unite in the soulmate tradition only made him break down more. It wasn’t fair… it wasn’t fair…

 Remy did his best trying to distract him and take his mind away from it, wiping his tears and hugging him around his neck, where he could feel the comfort of it. After the whole meltdown finally was over, Remy suggested going to a food attraction place for lunch, and Virgil reluctantly agreed, eyes bloodshot from all his crying.

 Afternoon Benedict was a place he had never gone before, but since Remy said he knew people who worked there, he didn’t feel as anxious going. Plus, some afternoon breakfast didn’t sound half bad.

 He was wheeled in and saw a very friendly person up front with a pink apron on, saying “free hugs!” on it. He greeted them warmly, bright blue eyes, blondish-brown hair, milky white baby skin, with so many freckles dancing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, his face looked like a sprinkled birthday cake. Virgil had to resist the smile that was tugging at his lips.

 “Hi! Where would you like to be seated?” His voice was so sugary sweet, the emo could feel his teeth rotting.

 “Anyplace with chairs that pull out. He can’t leave this one.” Remy gestured to his friend.

 Internal sigh.

 “Okay! Coming right up!” He dashed away and got a nice table ready before beckoning them over.

 Virgil got wheeled over and situated. “Now, what can I get for you two?” His honey-dripped voice asked them.

 “I guess… some scrambled eggs with toast? And apple juice with a long straw if you can manage?” Virgil kept the quiver of anxiety out of his voice well enough.

 “I’ll have my usual, bud.” Remy winked at the friendly employee.

 “Okay! It’ll be out soon!” He danced away to Virgil’s humor.

 Now came the part he dreaded about eating out. Remy took a couple bites of his food when it arrived, then started feeding Virgil. The coffee lover had quickly learned not to tease Virgil about having to be fed like an infant, as he’d either get a bite on his finger, or he’d have to help him calm from another meltdown.

 Virgil was thankful that no odd glares had been sent his way yet. Maybe Remy had set this whole thing up so he didn’t have to worry about anybody judging. No matter how tough the sunglass-wearing nerd acted, Virgil knew he had a soft side. A love for kittens, an admiration for children pop star singers, a small addiction to baby sugar sticks… he knew it was there.

 As the cooks were preparing the meal, the cheerful waiter was told to take his last 10-minute break. He skipped to the back and checked his phone excitedly. He was a little saddened that MCR10150 hadn’t responded to him yet, but he kept his hopes high and ate a quick snack while listening to music.

 Even if he couldn’t taste anything, the happy music made the food go down better, like a spoon full of sugar.

 Virgil was just about full when the bubbly waiter came over again. “Are you two ready for the bill? Or would you like to see our dessert menu?” He looked over at Virgil, who was being fed another forkful of scrambled eggs.

 “Luckyyy!” He squealed.

 The emo nearly spit his food out at that, but managed to swallow it.

 “Excuse me?”

 “I’d kill to be in your seat! Being fed without a worry in the word! You must feel like royalty! Nonono-wait!” He suddenly bowed. “My highness.”

 Virgil couldn’t help it. He bursted out laughing. Just the sheer ridiculousness and confusion-not to mention the irony- of the whole situation made him utterly crack up.

 Remy sighed with relief. He knew Patton could be overbearing at times. Yesterday, when he had told the staff and usual visitors about Virgil and how to act around him when he brought him in, Patton wasn’t there, but he was glad Virgil wasn’t offended or distraught over his behavior. It was hard to predict that kid.

 “Well… he doesn’t have much of a choice.” He explained after Virgil started to calm from his laughter. “He can’t feel any of his body other than his head and neck.”

 “Oh! I’m so sorr-“

 “No! Please don’t pity me…” Virgil growled out, interrupting the poor employee.

 Patton gave a quiet whimper, his smile becoming forced. “S-so, will that be bill or dessert?”

 Virgil felt bad now. Even though he hardly knew this living cartoon, seeing his bright cute face darken with sadness made him feel even more dead inside.

 God dammit, he thought to himself.

 “Virgil? It’s up to you.” Remy murmured. He tried to give Virgil a choice whenever he had the chance. He was indifferent to having dessert or not, but he wanted Virgil to feel like he was in control, even if it was for little things.

 “What kind of dessert menu comes out of a breakfast place?”

 To be continued…

  @cefsticklestoo @thestarswelcomemewithopenarms @my-anxiety-hasanxiety

@poptartsaysurloved @leedrop-angel @lavenders-loveforthings @ I’m sorry I forgot everyone else. O.o

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 43

You go back to work, and come to terms with what’s happened.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 3k

Genre: fluff, angst, idfk

Warnings: Tiiiny bit of cursing, a hint of depression

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“Girl, he broke up with you? What happened?” 

“I don’t know,” you moan, clapping your hands to your ears. Her voice persists, echoing inside your head.

“He liked her more. You were never even together, and he still couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Stop it. Shut up.”

“Poor, traumatized Y/n, who’s been nothing but trouble. Y/n, who’s an anxious little nobody. Y/n, trying to drag a star like him down to your level.”

“That’s not true!” “He hates you. Why else would he do that? He knows what she did to you, and he’s with her anyways. He hates you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But you do, Y/n.”

“Fame, flashlight– gi-give it to me!”

Unlike most of your nightmares, for once you don’t bolt upwards in a panic. Your eyes simply open at the sound of your alarm and blink several times. 

After a moment of stillness, you reach for your phone. It’s time for a change. Waking up to his voice every day used to be a delight, but now… you switch the sound back to the default alarm noise. It’s been all of one day since you awoke to his betrayal– twenty-four hours since the second of the two people you trusted most in the world was lost to you. 

And I had to go from hearing one in my sleep to getting woken up by the other, you think humorlessly as you shove your blanket off and stretch.

Kang Seoyeon. You’ve spent so long thinking only of her attack, that flash of hair, that shove into the river, that learning her name feels like a punch in the stomach. She’s not just a nightmare. You don’t know whether you’re relieved or horrified. 

Doesn’t matter. You have work today. The dark cloud that formed after Lisa’s disappearance, the same one that grew in weight when you saw Seoyeon’s picture on Lisa’s laptop and again when your mom cut you off– it overwhelmed you yesterday after you saw the news about him and Seoyeon. The feeling, the horrible, gnawing darkness got so intense that something inside of you seemed to break, and the pressure simply… lifted. 

You survived an attempt on your life. You didn’t need him then, and you don’t need him now, especially since he’s made it clear that he doesn’t need you either.

And so you get dressed in more layers than you need, put on makeup, and walk to the subway station. You’d take an Uber but now, more than ever, you need to save money. Thanks, Mom. Maybe you can find a flat with lower rent further from the city? Or check with student housing? Right, you’re still a student.

As you approach, you notice a commotion around the studio. There’s a crowd outside, a mix of what look like fans and paparazzi. You tug your collar up in the hopes that you’re not spotted, but–

“Y/n! Any comment on Suga’s new girlfriend?”

“Just a quick photo, please!”

“Do you think Suga cheated on you?”

“Y/n! What do you have to say to Kang Seoyeon?”

“Are the rumors that you’ve been missing work true?”

“How did your relationship end?”

“No comment,” you say, the tidal wave of noise crashing down onto you as you fight for breath amidst the crowd. Despite the heat of all the bodies, you begin to shiver. “Please let me through.”

“Y/n!” A familiar voice rings out above the confusion. Avery, your director, stands tall in the doorway. “Let her pass. We will not be commenting or taking questions at this time.”

With Avery’s help, you manage to push through the mob, half collapsing once the large studio doors have closed behind you. Inside the studio, the cast and crew bustle about, almost busier than usual.

“Are you okay?” Avery asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Avery, look, I’m sorry I haven’t been at filming–”

“It’s in the past,” the director says kindly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But… well, Y/n, you need a manager. A real manager. I’ve been talking with some of my agency friends, and I think-”

“I have a manager,” you interrupt. Unless… you Googled the statistics of surviving a kidnapping for as long as Lisa’s been gone. The research alone made you feel nauseous. But Lisa’s alive. She has to be. Right?

Avery folds her arms, as though she can tell something’s off. “Really? Then where’s your driver? Who’s organizing your gigs, negotiating your wages? Who’s hiring you a bodyguard? ‘Cause the people outside are showing me that you need one.”

“She just-”

“Where’s the publicist managing your online presence? You shouldn’t have to do this all on your own, Y/n. And for god’s sake, where is the person who’s supposed to keep celebrities like you from going off the deep end?”

“I’m not a celebrity, Avery! I’m not him, okay?”

“I know. But you have to understand, no one has ever been in a position like yours. BTS have a powerful fanbase, and none of them have dated before, least of all dated a virtual nobody. I know your relationship wasn’t real,” she continues, seeing you about to protest. “But it’s what needed to happen to protect both of your reputations. You skipped a lot of steps on the way to fame, Y/n. You need an experienced manager to keep you on track.” Avery shrugs. “I can email you a list of people you should talk to. Now, have you talked to your professors about missing classes? Will you be ready to go?”

“What? Go where?”

Avery raises a brow. “We’re filming on location next week, remember? There’s been an on-set announcement every day this week, and the email was sent out a month ago.”

Oh. What? You’ve barely been onset this week, so overwhelmed were you with the terror that Seoyeon had managed to instill within you. But you’ve been checking your email and your phone messages almost obsessively after you’d learned that the university had messaged you about Lisa’s disappearance first. You won’t let anything like that happen again. And yet… “I haven’t, uh… I haven’t gotten any emails about that.” 

 “Check your spam folder, I’m certain you received them.” Avery says cooly. “Anyways, you’ve missed a lot of work. Can I assume you’re back for good?”

“Yes.” You reply immediately. “Absolutely, ma’am. I’m very, very sorry for not being present lately. I’ll work hard to make up for it.” Is the existence of Seoyeon, and the unknown connection between her and Lisa, still terrifying? Of course. Does his sudden relationship with Seoyeon, after seeing him only two days ago, make your heart feel like it’s being shredded into pieces? Maybe. But you’ve broken yourself back together; no one can hurt you anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Avery says, satisfied. “Now, go on to wardrobe, it’s gonna be a long day. We’re filming three episodes’ worth of your and Yoongi’s scenes.”

You gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Speaking of Yoongi…” Avery checks her watch. “He’s late. Whatever– go get dressed.”

With nothing more to say, you make for the dressing rooms. And of course, who has to exit in full costume but…

“Y/n.”

You nod, your usual irrepressible anger nowhere to be seen. No one can hurt you anymore. “Jeongyeon.”

“I heard about you and Yoongi.” Jeongyeon seems to attempt to muster her usual obnoxious sneer, but it falls flat. You suppose your expression is just pitiful enough to put off her bullying.

“Ah, yeah.” You don’t know what else to say. It was just a fake relationship, so you should be glad it’s over. After all, Bang PD had said the arrangement could end whenever you wanted it to… and clearly, he wanted it to.

“Well, whatever. How does he go from bad to worse, am I right? Did you see his new girl?”

There she is, you think, watching Jeongyeon slip back into the character you know so well.

“Anyways,” she continues. “I heard we’re sharing a trailer for when we film on location. Don’t even think about stealing my bobby pins.”

You salute your costar ironically before brushing past her into the dressing rooms. 

Forty minutes later, you’re finally clothed in all your beautiful layers, your face perfectly made up. You’re an actress, a professional. Whatever is happening in your personal life, you have to put it aside for the sake of your work.

“So pretty~” the stylist coos as she expertly fixes your hair. You hear the door open, but you can’t move to see who entered as the stylist continues: “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Your eyes widen at his voice. The stylist still has a hold of your hair, and you can’t turn to look at him.

After an eternal silence, he clears his throat. “Anyways, Avery sent me here for hair and makeup?”

“Yes, Mr. Min, just one more second while I finish up with Y/n here…” after what seems like a lungful of hairspray, you’re set free. At last, you turn and look at Min Yoongi.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, and his normally good posture has disappeared for slumped shoulders. Must be the stress of a new relationship.

“Y/n,” Yoongi starts. “Look, I–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, pasting a smile onto your face. “It’s whatever, Yoongi, alright?”

“Uh, right.” Yoongi fidgets with one of his rings, seemingly at a loss.

“I just…” you can feel your facade begin to slip, and shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you onset.”

~~~

Yoongi watches you go, clenching his fist. He wasn’t expecting to see you at work today, and he definitely wasn’t expecting… well, whatever that was.

He doesn’t know why he feels a little disappointed to realize how okay you are with this situation. Certainly far more okay than he is. Maybe you really were eager to get out of your relationship. 

Shit. He wishes he could fix this, wishes he could tell you everything. A shiver runs down his spine, though, when he remembers exactly why he can’t talk to you.

“You go to the police,” Seoyeon said, holding out her phone so Yoongi can see, “you talk to the paparazzi, or your precious little girlfriend, and this one will be gone before anyone can find her.”

Yoongi gulped. “How do I know that’s not doctored?”

He received a shrug. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take. Now, we’re going to do this my way. Want to keep Y/n safe? And the other one too?” She nods at the photo on her phone. “Follow my rules, and they won’t get hurt. But I’ll be keeping this one… for insurance.”

“You’re insane.”

Seoyeon winked. “Nope, just a fan!”

Faking a relationship with your attacker, seeing the insurance she’s kept, and knowing that he can’t tell you any of it, is almost too much for Yoongi. But he’s got D working to track Lisa’s phone, and Avery to suggest you hire bodyguards. Sure, he may be stretched thin enough to snap, but he’ll keep everyone safe. He has to.

~~~

You’re hanging around on the indoor set of what’s supposed to be a busy town market filled with extras. You’re always amazed at the movie magic that allows the simple set such versatility. 

You can hear him before you see him: the cast and crew can never help but murmur at the biggest star in the show. And yet, you don’t turn to look. It’s not like you’re avoiding him, but… well, he has to have realized that he hurt you, right? And of course, now you have to play the brokenhearted ex, since all your coworkers think the relationship was real. Which means more lies.

But it’s okay. You’re strong. Stronger than him, stronger than his new girlfriend. 

“Okay!” Avery barks, and the present company jumps to attention. “I know there’s a lot of excitement on set today, so I hope everyone remembers to keep things professional. Now, let’s get started. Episode 13, scene 6. The scene: Kim Ji-Woo has just returned from her trip to the countryside as she recovers from Mr. Moon’s sudden engagement to Mi-Gyeong, the wealthy Mr. Gang’s younger sister. They bump into each other at the market and Mr. Moon invites Ji-Woo to the ball held in honor of the engagement. Ready, and… action!”

You move quickly into the view of the camera, waving at the imaginary coachman behind you. “No, really, it’s alright! I can walk home, Father should have the carriage in any case– yes, goodbye now, good- oh!” 

Not looking where you were going, you walk right into Yoongi. Your basket clatters onto the dirt road and for a second you feel the urge to stay there in his arms as you have so many times before. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr- Mr. Moon?” you allow your voice to tremble for a second. Here he is, the man who had promised himself to you, and then turned around and chose to love another. Here he is, and every feeling you tried to bury comes rushing back. But… no. There’s still your dignity to think about.

“My apologies,” you murmur, reaching down to grab your basket as you curtsy. Basket secured, you’re quick to turn away from the newly-engaged man who, only weeks before, had secretly asked you to marry him. 

“Oh, wait, wait! Miss Kim!” Mr. Moon extends his arm, his hand barely brushing yours. Your skin prickles with equal parts excitement and pain.

You can’t ignore so blatant a summons. You look back at him slowly. “Is there something I may help you with, sir?” Sir. How long has it been since you were able to call him by his given name? 

“Please, I…” Mr. Kim pauses, his jaw tense. “My father is hosting a ball tonight. In honor of my engagement.”

“Congratulations,” you reply, as drily as your good manners will allow. For what reason is he reminding you of his betrayal?

“Would you attend, as my guest? Your sisters are most certainly welcome as well,” Mr. Moon says, his voice just shy of pleading.

Is he out of his mind? No, he’s just pulling rank and expecting you to say yes. No sane country girl such as yourself could ever turn down an invitation from a man of such good breeding.

And yet, he led you to believe he loved you, and you him, before turning tail and running towards a much better match. All the good you saw in him then… where is it now?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, staring at him. “But my family will be unable to attend. I wish you the best in your life, and in a very… happy marriage. Good day, Mr. Moon.”

“Good– ah.” You can’t see Mr. Moon rub his eyes tiredly,  for you’ve already walked away, full of determination. I don’t need him.

“Cut! Holy shit, guys!” Avery claps loudly, a wide grin on her face. “I think that was the best I’ve ever seen you two together. Keep it up! Let’s use that take. Okay, next, episode 14, scenes 30-33.”

The workday is long and brutal, but you’d never complain– at least you still have a job, after the absentee stunt you pulled.

Speaking of absentee… Lisa. It’s been a month now since she’s disappeared, and maybe you could have chalked it up to some quarter-life crisis at first. After all, she bought that plane ticket to America. 

But a month? And the police are still looking for her. They must have a reason to believe it’s more than university angst, right?

You need to face the facts, Y/n. And the facts are that Lisa must have been kidnapped. And to stay alive a month after being kidnapped… 

You can’t think about it. But you can’t not think about it. And if you’re moving past Yoongi, you have to move past your best friend, too. 

“Avery?” You approach the director , who’s giving instructions to an assistant, after the cast has been dismissed for the day. At your voice, she glances up.

“Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“I’m…” You take a deep breath, knowing your nightmares will take revenge on you. “I’m ready to look for a manager. Can you email me your contacts?” Hopefully you receive them– the fact that you haven’t noticed any emails about filming on location is really concerning.

Avery smiles. “Of course, Y/n. I really do wish you the best.”

“Thank you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi wander your way. Avery seems to notice him as well, and manages to disappear before you can blink. The set has cleared out for the most part, with only some cosmetologists and stylists packing up.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him. Yoongi’s eyes dart back and forth nervously.

“I’m sorry.” He finally blurts out.

“What?” Your voice remains neutral. Is he apologizing for knowing Seoyeon without telling you? For dating her? 

Yoongi reaches for your hand before freezing. “I don’t know how this is going to end, Y/n, but in case something goes wrong, I need to tell you that I’m so, so sorry.”

Yoongi… “You can’t do that,” you say eventually. He can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tell him the truth. “You can’t play with me like this, Yoongs. You can’t tell me that I’m safe and then turn around and hold her hand. You can’t come back and apologize for your actions after what she did to me. What she might have done to Lisa! Do you even hear yourself?” You’re half-shouting before you realize it, but you can’t stop. “Christ, I knew celebrities were selfish, but this is god-tier bullshit. She could have killed me, Yoongi! Would you still have loved her then?”

“I don’t–” Yoongi stops short before shaking his head. “You don’t understand.”

“So teach me.”

“I… can’t.”

You breathe in sharply, gripping your bag. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you. And, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

[bunnieflow]

New Prescription

Bnha Songfic (x male reader)

TW: Homophobic slur, attempt suicide, cursing, and depression, basicly a whole lotta dark themes.

The song is Boys Will Be Bugs, by cavetown.

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

I’m a dumb teen boy, I eat sticks and rocks and mud

 I sat on the cold wet ground. Rain pouring down on my shivering body. My breath is visible and the tips of my fingers icy. But I still stayed sitting outside as I talked absentmindedly to the snails and worms.

 Then I heard a shivering voice yell out aggressively.

“Hey dumbass! What the fuck are you doing out here in this weather!” I flinched and turned my head quickly in the direction the voice came from. My [e/c] eyes landing on a familiar face.

I don’t care about the government and I really need a hug

 Scoffing I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the bugs. My wet hair stuck to my face as did my clothes, it was uncomfortable. The bandages on my face soaking, the stickiness almost gone. I bore it though, liking the rain, and liking talking to my only friends more.

I feel stupid, stupid, ugly, ugly, pretend it doesn’t bother me

 I heard a curse come from the guy and footsteps entered my hearing. And soon they stopped as he reached my form. He grabbed my arm and yanked me up. I yelled out In protest.

I’m not very strong but I’ll fuck you up if you’re mean to bugs

“Get up fucker, you’re going to get sick!” He yelled as he tried to pull me back inside the dorm building. His hand was warm causing me to have an urge to hold it in my freezing ones.

It’s getting cold down here underneath the weather, I’d skip class to sit with you, I really like your spotty sweater, if ladybugs are girls how do you make kids together, what’s it like in a female world I bet it’s just so much better

I continued to struggle against his grip. Twisting and turning my body in every direction I could. He wasn’t giving up though, him practically dragging me to the dorms doors.

I just turned fourteen and I think this year I’m going to be mean, don’t mess with me I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary

“Stop! Don’t mess with me! I’m very scary!” I shouted and tried to pull my arm out of his firm grasp. I used my other arm to punch him in the face.

I punch my walls, stay out at night, and I do karate

 He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor with a ‘splash’. In the process letting go of my arm. He looked up at me with a fierce glare, his teeth baring.

“WHAT THE FUCK! I’m try to fucking help you! You’re going to get sick! Stop being so fucking  annoying!” He yelled at me as he stood up. Angrily closing the small gap we had between us from where he fell. 

Don’t message me cause I won’t reply, wanna make you cry

“I don’t need your help! Fuck off Bakugou!” I tried to shove him back but he grabbed my small wrist in his hand, stopping me. I gasped in shock as a sensation went down my spine when he touched me.

“Yes you do need my help! Stop fucking pushing me away dipshit! You’re hurt and you feel like the world is against you, but stop shutting me out!” He shouted as he placed his other hand on my cold, red, cheek. I instinctively leaned into his touch, missing the warmth he gave off.

Ain’t that how it’s supposed to be, though it isn’t me, boys will be bugs right?

Realizing my actions I shoved him away from me as hard as I could. My body stiff and shaking, but previous training had kept my body strong and in shape. He stumbled back a bit letting out a shocked gasp. Hurt flashed over his features, but it was quickly replaced with a mean scowl.

Boys will be bugs right?

“Fine [Y/n] I’ll leave you the fuck alone! I’m fucking done trying to help you!” He yelled and stormed off into the dorm, letting the doors slam shut.

I fell down to my knees, sobs escaping my mouth. ‘Fuck I really am so fucking pathetic.’ I held onto myself as I cried, rain pouring down on me. My body shaking, hands freezing, and my breath visible. I was sure to get sick, but I didn’t care.

I’m a dumb teen boy all I wanna do is quit, my mom told me that she’s worried, and I couldn’t give a shit

After my phone call with my mom I sat staring at my pill bottle. The conversation went awful, my mother not supportive of me being gay. She told me to kill myself, that no one would miss me, that I’m worth nothing. That I’m a disgusting fag.

Maybe I should kill myself, maybe she’s right. 

No not maybe, she is right.

I have friends who understand me, their names are spider, beetle, bee, they don’t say much but they have always listened to me

Knocks were heard on the other side of my door, causing me to flinch. I slowly stood to open my door, worried to see who was on the other side. Once the door was opened there stood Tamaki, he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

His head looked up from the ground when I fully opened the door, he gave me a shaky smile. I sighed and forced a smile back. I stepped back slightly to let him in, which he took notice of and quickly shuffled inside. He sat wearily on my bed, wringing his hands around, something he does when anxious.

“I uh- I wanted to see how you were, I haven’t seen you around lately,” he whispered out shakily, the tips of his ears a light pink.

The other boys at school think it’s cool to hate your parents, but they’re lying all the time, the bugs advise that I should let them

Maybe before I would have thought that he was cute, that it was nice he was checking up on me. Now though, it’s just annoying, he doesn’t care. No one cares, no one understands. I should just kill myself like my dumbass mother said.

“I’m fine,” I snapped at him as he flinched. I felt bad but I pushed that down. I’m not going to get hurt again trying to play friends with someone who doesn’t care.

“O-oh,” he stood shakily, his head hung low, “I’m sorry.” He spoke low, scared, and hurt. His voice shaking as he walked over to the door. He looked at me once more, a pleading look in his eyes.

If you wanna cry make sure that they never see it

I turned my head, avoiding his sorrow gaze. I knew if I made him feel awkward enough, hurt enough he’d leave. He would never want to feel like a bother to someone else. I heard the door close and my eyes started to water.

Even better yet block it out and never feel it

I angrily whipped at my eyes and picked up the discarded pill bottle. I opened it and dumped three onto my hand. I tilted my head back and shoved the pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry. I let tears roll down my pale, tired face.

I just turned fourteen and I think I know everything

I laid down on my messy bed and curled into a ball. Silent tears coming out like a sink faucet turned on. Everything hurts, but the pills will help me feel better.

Help me feel nothing, but emptiness.

Don’t mess with me I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary, I punch my walls, stay out at night, and I do karate

 I walked through the school halls, ignoring the judgmental looks I received. Snapping at anyone who had something to say to me. Avoiding the ones who act like they cared for me, when I know they don’t.

“[Y/n]! Hey are you okay dude? You don’t look too good,” a ‘concern’ voice spoke out. I whipped my head in the direction it came from, seeing Kirishima.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “I’m fine, leave me alone.” I continued to walk ignoring the hurt look that stayed on his face.

Don’t message me cause I won’t reply, wanna make you cry, ain’t that how it’s supposed to be, though it isn’t me

I picked up my pace as I saw Bakugou walking up to me. I heard him scoff and he rushed forward to grab onto my wrist. I groaned in frustration and tried to shove him off.

“[Y/n], fucking stop! This shit isn’t fucking like you-!” He yelled down at my slightly shorter self.

I frowned and angrily cut him off, ”You don’t know that! You don’t know how I am! You out of everyone fucking else don’t get to know that!”

Boys will be bugs right?

He looked guilty for a second but quickly recovered. An angry, hurt, annoyed, and a little concerned looked rested on his face. I frowned a bit more at that, feeling confused with myself.

“I fucking told you already dipshit, it wasn’t what it looked like,” he squeezed onto my wrist a bit more and looked down, “I’m not that fucking messed up person everyone fucking paints me out to be.”

Boys will be bugs right? Just turned fourteen and I think this year I’m going to be mean

“Whatever Bakugou, it’s not like you even liked me back in the first place,” I whispered out, my tone harsh.

He quickly looked at me, his face twisted in confusion.

“What? That’s not true! Who fucking told you that, was it some dumbass fucking extra!?” He yelled angrily as he placed a hand onto my cheek. His face twisted in anger, but his gaze soft as they looked at me.

Just turned fourteen and I think I know everything, just turned fourteen and I think this year I’m gonna be mean, just turned fourteen and I think the world revolves around me 

“No dumbass, no one needs to tell me anything I could fucking tell,” I spoke quickly my voice sharp. I leaned away from his touch, even though my heart was screaming at me to get closer. In contrast to my heart my brain was yelling at me, reminding me of the truth. All the yelling was causing my head to pound and my eyes to sting.

He’s lying!

Don’t believe him!

He already fooled you once, don’t let him do it again!

No one would want you!

Don’t mess with me I’m big boy now and I’m very scary

His expression turned softer as he moved to place his hand onto my cheek again. His grip tight on my wrist, as if I would slip away again. Which I probably would have if given the chance, at least that’s what I’d like to think.

But when his crimson eyes met my [e/c] ones, I felt frozen in place. A forced away emotion building up inside of me once again. It scared me, but it also sent a thrill throughout my drugged system.

I punch my walls, stay out at night, and I do Karate, don’t message me cause I won’t reply, wanna make you cry

I glared at him, but didn’t move away from his touch. I knew I shouldn’t feel like this, but it. No he was intoxicating , and I craved for him. More than I craved for the pills that numbed me every time I took them.

My glare was cold and full of annoyance, but he ignored it. He smirked down at me as he spoke.

“I see you’re still the same, even when mad you still wanted me to show you affection, it’s so fucking cute.”

Ain’t that how it’s supposed to be though it isn’t me, boys will be bugs right?

And then that wall I worked so hard to put up around my heart broke. And it felt scary, but it also felt like I was free. I let tears roll down my face as I put my hands on his cheeks.

“And you’re still the same over fucking confident guy, who thinks he’s better than everyone, when he’s not, cause you have your flaws too Katsuki,” a smile tugged at the corners of my lip. Tears entering my mouth, letting me taste the saltiness of them. 

Don’t mess with me I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary, I punch my walls stay out at night and I do karate

His smirk grew wider as he wrapped his free arm tightly around my waist. Pulling me closer to his fit body.

“I really fucking missed you loser.” 

Don’t message me cause I won’t reply wanna make you cry, ain’t that how it’s supposed to be, though it isn’t me, boys will be bugs right?

I moved my arms to clasp together behind his neck. He leaned down slightly to put his forehead against mine.

“I bet you did,” I smiled at him slightly. He rolled his eyes but he had a smile rested softly on his features. I chuckled slightly at this which caused him to groan.

“Why the fuck are you laughing!” He yelled out playfully, but also slightly annoyed. Causing me to laugh more, missing this, missing him.

“Nothing Katsuki, everything is perfect,” I smiled up at him.

He grinned, our eyes locking. He held a look in his eyes, one I would describe as fondness. We stood close, our hands wrapped around each other. And a fond, loving, look in our eyes.

He leaned down slowly, cautiously. I smiled a bit more and leaned up to meet his lips. Our eyes closing, and lips softly pressing together. Everything felt right, everything felt euphoric.

.

.

And then I woke up, tears streaming down my face. I reached over and grabbed my pill bottle, aggressively opening it. Dumping out as many as I could onto my shaking hand. I looked over at the letter I wrote, which was resting on top of my desk, a frown rested on my sunken face.

I shook my head from any thoughts and tilted my head back. I shoved the pills in my mouth and swallowed hard, the pills going down dry. It hurt, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt for long. I cried as I laid back down on my bed, head pounding and heart racing.

It would all be over soon, I would be free from heartache. I would be gone and I wouldn’t be a hassle to anyone.

Boys will be bugs right?

I don’t know how long I laid, but my vision started to blur, and I felt nauseous. I let my heavy eyes close, my brain shutting down, and I felt cold. I felt light, and then I was gone.

.

.

.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Soft beeping entered my hearing, my breathing slow. I felt a weight on my arm, as well as wetness. I moved my eyes around from behind my closed eyes, darkness being the only thing I saw. Confusion flooded my system, my heart rate picking up, causing the soft beeping to pick up. I heard a gasp as soft hands grabbed onto mine, squeezing them tight.

“Please, wake up [Y/n],” their voice was raspy, as if they had been crying. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite match it to a face.

Memories of what I had tried to do flashed through my head, a soft gasp passing my lips. I snapped my eyes open, quickly sitting up. I was in a hospital, on a hospital bed, wires attached to me. I looked over to the person who held tightly onto my hand. A soft, relieved smile rested on his lips. His eyes watery as he leapt forward, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Fuck man, I thought I lost you, I thought I didn’t get you here on time!” he cried out, tears falling onto my thin hospital gown. I shakily wrapped my arms around his lean frame, and shoved my face into his choppy black hair. Breathing in his scent of faint weed, and his favorite candle scent mint.

“What happened? Why are you here?” I mumbled out into his soft hair. I have always been close to Sero, but I was never really able to hang out with him while I was ‘with’ Bakugou. Bakugou would get jealous, even though he wouldn't admit it, whenever I was with Sero. It’s funny cause I did end up developing a crush on him, but why would he like me back.

“I uh- I went to check up on you cause I missed my more relaxed homie, and I was worried cause I heard that you’ve been depressed lately,” he spoke lowly as he pulled me closer, “When I knocked on the door it was already slightly opened so I peeked inside.”

He breathed in shaikly,” that's when I saw you, and the letter, along with the pills.” He let tears flow down his face again as he recalled the scene, “I knew what you were doing, so without any thought I picked you up and used my quirk to get us here quickly.”

It was silent, the only sound was the machine attached to my wrist beeping softly. Regret flew through my system, ‘I thought I closed and locked the door before I went to sleep, I guess not.’ I sighed and pushed him away slightly, softly. I placed my cold hands on his tear stained cheeks, pressing our foreheads together.

“I-I’m sorry,” I croaked out, tears falling down my face. It was weird seeing Sero so emotional, he was never really one to act like this. Maybe that's why I felt a bit more guilty. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist.

“Please, just don’t do that again, I know you feel betrayed by Bakugou, and you're hurting, but I want to help, I want to show you what love feels like, and I would never try to hurt you,” He whispered, pulling me closer. My eyes widened and a soft blush covered my cheeks, and ears.

“We don’t have to date right now, but when you feel a bit better, maybe we can go out together,” he continued, a little scared but determined. He opened his eyes and met my gaze, flashing his signature grin.

“Okay, I would like that, but I swear to go if you hurt me I’ll hurt you,” I huffed but a small smile rested on my face.

He laughed out, “Of course dude, I give you my full consent, but it will never get to that point!”

And I felt a little happy, Sero and I exchanging soft looks and smiles in a hospital room, wires plugged into me. My ‘ex's’ best friend who was lean and silly, holding each other close, how ironic. Maybe, this is the new prescription I needed, one that would help heal my system of heartache. Yeah, I could get used to this, him and his lame jokes, his faint smell of weed, and his dorky smile.

[charmingpplincardigans]

January Kitchen Sink Check In

This is mostly for me, because I’m trying to become a better person this year, for varying definitions of the term ‘better’, and I like to see my progress laid out all organized like. It helps me move forward. So I’m gonna go through my Body/Mind/Money goals for January and note how I did and what I’m going to do moving forward!

BODY

Working Out: 

My two work out goals for the end of the year are to 1) be doing yoga semi-regularly and 2) be working out four days a week reliably, including the yoga. I’m working on easing myself into these (and all) habits, because I don’t want to overwhelm myself and give up on everything, so my goal for January was to work out one day a week. And I worked out *drumroooooooll* NONE! NOT A ONCE. I don’t have an excuse for this. Part of it was stress, part of it was depression, part of it was sheer laziness. I promise myself I’m gonna work out at least once a week in February, but also shoot for the two times a week that is the February Goal. 

Food: 

I have several overall food goals for the year. One is to give up soda near completely, or at least to break my addiction to it. The others are to start planning meals and eat less meat. For January I wanted to drink only two sodas a day (20oz max). I managed that 23 days out of 31. In looking at the calendar you can reliably match the days I failed to the days that were extremely stressful or anxiety ridden. I have a very bad habit in those moments of throwing up my hands and deciding that I’m a failure anyway so nothing matters. That’s definitely a mental tick to keep an eye on over the next few months as my job no doubt just gets more and more stressful. The other goals I did okay with. I decided to plan one meatless meal a week. New recipes I made in January were: 

Black bean soup

Moroccan sweet potatoes

Spinach lasagna

Black bean & sweet potato enchiladas

Do recommend most of them. The lasagna had way too much cinnamon in it, which was kind of weird. If I make that recipe again I’m gonna quarter the amount. But I might just find a different veggie lasagna to make. 

For February I want to drop the soda to one a day (12oz max), and start to plan to make two meals a week. I’m doing okay with meat, but I could for sure do better. It helps that I have started making THE WORLD’S BEST SANDWICHES for lunch. Probably just gonna eat those forever instead of ordering out Huey Magoo’s or whatever. (The sandwich is hummus, cucumber, and feta on toasted Good Seed bread. Try it!)

Doctor Things:

Uff. I need to figure out the CPAP issues and the chest pain issues. I absolutely despised the first mask they sent me for the CPAP. It gave me panic episodes and I was ripping it off IN MY SLEEP. Insurance refused me a new mask until April, but my doctor came in like an angel with a sample version of a different type of mask to try. This one is...better. I’m still not comfortable in it and it’s not appreciably helping my sleep. People keep telling me it’s going to change my life, but that has not happened yet. On the other hand I have friends who’ve tried to make them work for YEARS and never did, so I’m wary of this whole process, but still trying. 

I had a sort of fraught meeting with my cardiologist last week. My chest pain symptoms had been getting better as of October, but with the change in my job I’ve back slid almost entirely. I had a 36 hour period of chest pain two weeks ago. I go whole nights having every heart attack symptom in slow motion, but doing nothing about it because I can’t afford for the ER to tell me I’m fine five times a month. I cried when she asked me why I didn’t go to a hospital when that happened. I feel so helpless all of the time and I’m certain I’m going to die any day now, even though my heart is technically physically fine. Can you anxiety yourself into a heart attack? I THINK YOU CAN. She did tell me to try to speak to the psychiatrist again about anxiety medication. The last time I tried the woman I saw didn’t want to prescribe me anything. She told me to work on my sleep and come back. Welp! The cardiologist said that if that happens this time she’ll write a note telling her to prescribe me something. We’ll see. I need to try to make that appt this month. 

MIND

Therapy:

My therapist thinks I’ve done really well over the last year with working on myself and said out loud that she thinks I’m better at dealing with some things and am in a good position to move forward. But I’m so stressed right now that I just feel like I’ve fallen apart again. We’re meant to start on EMDR this week, but I’m going to have to put a pause on it so I can talk about how I’m at like, the lowest point of my life, which she will be very supportive of and then probably remind me that if we could just get to the EMDR and work with the older traumas this might not feel so dire. I’m just, on the struggle bus and too tired to do anything but freak out about that. 

Writing: 

I have so may creative goals this year! Too many probably! I should put some back! My creative goals for the year are:

Complete a rough draft of AMLD (10,000 words a month)

Complete and mail out the Girls Who Date the Universe chapbook

Complete and mail out any remaining art for people who helped me with the car fund

Work on poetry and short fictions (Monster Story?)

Actually check in to @gywo every month (10 days a month goal)

My creative goals for January were to write 10,000 words on AMLD, work on the extra poems for GWDTU, and send the remaining postcards from the car fund. And uh...look. I did work on writing. I worked on the chapbook layout and editing pieces that needed to be edited/replaced, because there are several. I did also work on the outline for AMLD, but didn’t write new words on it. Not anywhere 10,000 of them at any rate. 

The owing people art thing is just...it fucks me up, man. I have learned a huge lesson between the car fund and the patreon. I get so in my head about how these people deserve beautiful things and then I tell myself I’m not capable of making things worthy of them and then I put off doing the thing because I want to put off letting them down and then it just spirals from there. ALL THE WHILE I AM FOR SURE LETTING THEM DOWN. I realize this is both unhealthy and unprofessional. It’s why one of my goals this year is to clear all of this once and for all so that I can square myself away with everyone and try not to end up here in the future. 

So, the January Goals now get rolled up into the February Goals, which leaves the new list for the month at: 

10,000 words AMLD

Complete extra poems for GWDTU

Send postcards from car fund

Complete layout for Boston chapbook for car fund

I did check in for GYWO. 

Future Plans:

Part of letting off the pressure for the now for me is always about planning for the future. Not like, the actual future, I’m not starting a 401k, let’s not go nuts. But for something that is one step forward. In my notes for my year goals this is all about moving back to Boston. I need to set a date for it. I need to save money for it. I need to keep my job until after I’ve done it. But now I think this part needs to include notes about my job itself and the ways I can either move forward with it or move away from it once and for all. 

I talked to Lisa and Kait at the beginning of the year about the moving plan, and now I just need to talk to my apartment complex to see if it would be feasible to extend the lease to December or February without paying an exorbitant amount in rent each month. If rent ends up being more than $2k/mo for the extension then I’m just going to have to have to wait until June 2022. This frustrates me, because I hate not being able to just follow through with decisions once I’ve made them, but patience is another thing I’m working on eternally. My goal for February is figure out money stuff well enough and talk to complex and set a timeline. 

Work is. Wow. It’s awful right now. I still have my job, which takes up much of my days, but because of re-org I’m also having to learn a whole new job which would also take up much of my day. I can’t not learn this job, because the person who used to do it is in another department now too, so there’s no one to get the work done if I don’t learn to do it. But I also can’t do both. I CAN’T DO BOTH. An issue popped up last week with my job that literally brought my ulcer back. I asked my boss for help with it and she sent me a message at one point saying she wanted to cry about it. So like. She knows now, right? She knows I can’t do both jobs?? BUT THERE’S NO ONE ELSE TO DO IT SO I GUESS I JUST GET TO SLOWLY KILL MYSELF. I’m just so frustrated, and angry that these decisions get made without taking the people in them into account, and of course anxious and miserable. I’m currently dreading work in a way I haven’t since I was in text perms. It’s real bad. So I have to find a way to make it work or find a way out. 

My February approach to that is to finish this Love It or Leave It book and see if I can’t divine where my true motivation lies, and also to research library school. I kind of would rather not go back to school. Not because I wouldn’t spend my entirely life in school if I could. I WOULD. But because it’s expensive and time intensive and there’s no promise my life will be better after it’s over. But every job I think I want pretty much requires that masters, so. We’ll look into it at least. 

MONEY

Eating Out:

During the pandemic, one of my money sinks became DoorDash. I never used it before, because it costs literally twice as much as just going to get the food. (Also because I kind of like eating in restaurants alone. Ah, one day again I hope!) But the more afraid I became of the outside world, the less inclined I was to go into a restaurant to pick up take out, so I’ve had it brought to me. And I need to cut that shit out! I have food at home! My goal for January was to order out only 4 times a week. I managed this for three of the weeks, but when I blew it it was definitely those weeks at the very beginning and very end of the month where I was super stressed. The goal in February is to only order out 3 times a month.

Savings:

I need to open a high yield savings account. I’ve had the starting money for the move just sitting in my bank account making me no extra money for like, four months. The latest reason I haven’t moved it over is that I’m worried I’m going to owe a lot in taxes this year because of the partial unemployment I got. Hopes are that since it was a work share the taxes were taken out ahead of time, but I do not trust the government with my money as far as I can throw them, so. I’ll do my taxes this month and finally know for sure. And then I WILL move the rest of the money into a high yield savings account. I WILL. 

Also, every time my credit union savings hits a grand, I’ll move $500 of that over into the high yield account to put toward moving expenses. 

Budget:

I keep meaning to sit down and work out my new budget for 2021. I’m bringing home a little bit less in my paycheck because I changed my health insurance, and I’m also, of course, trying to save as much as I can ahead of moving so I don’t put anything on credit cards. (I’m doing so well paying those down!) This means I need to save everything I can and not spend money on stupid frivolous stuff. I’m not buying clothing like I did in the before times, but I AM spending too much money at Target still, because the app lets me just peruse any dumb idea I have and then pick it up that day! What a disaster! So, I really need to work something out. Or at least, I need to check my bank accounts more often and keep tabs on how much is actually going out. I have a bad out-of-sight-out-of-mind habit when it comes to bank accounts. Just another piece of me to try to cure this year.

And that’s it for January. I’m now late to bed because I’ve been working on this post for an hour and a half. Working on my sleep is also a goal, but we’ll see how exercise and the cpap handle that. Til next month!

[mental-health-advice]

Hi! Im 21 now, and ive come too finally start too put my mental health first and set boundries with when im feeling depressed, anxious etc. Since i didnt do that in my teens and i can see mo hownit affects me greatly; like how lost i was and how i would try too please everyone and sometimes act a certain way cause i thought it would make people like me or it was normal etc. And i have a few close friends, and i enjoy being with them and all that. But is it normal too finally realise that you now enjoy being alone more ? Also that you arent as close as you used too be as teens and maybe growing and changing also effects that but youre still friends? (I hope that makes sense). I’m trying too be more open with them with how i used too feel in the past and now about my mental health and how i felt/feel, so they can understand me better. And im still anxious too talk too them about my feelings and also lettinf them know how i want too forget some of my past because the reminders cause me too get triggered and have obssessive ruminating thoughts that are negative and make me think i am a bad person. And this includes asking them if i can delete photos/videos of myself from back then off their phones because i dont feel comfortable with them and how thinking about it is making me anxious, do you have any advice for how too do that?. Also i know that back then in my early/middle teens when like one or two people hurt me it did cause me too be a bit bitter and also effect my mh so sometimes i would then be bitter towards them after (which now i feel awful and guilty for) and take out those insecurities that were hit. — i know people say past mistakes, especially in your teens dont define who you are now and that you can forgive yourself, recognise them and how they were regretful or wrong and move on but i cant seem too stop obssesive over negative ruminating thoughts that im a bad person etc. And im beating myself up so much about it. And i think im making it seem worse then it is cause im now stuck in this depressive anxiety mode from it all, and im really trying too calm myself down and distract mysef. But its like i cant rememeber how i used too think before all this anxiety and stuff, and i cant ground myself or distract myself. And i think its probably because i havent talked too my friends or my sister either (who i love and feel comfortable with ) yet and got it off my chest. And i know i have too wait until they are free too meet up and all this but the longer it is the worse all my anxiety gets :( and i just want too control it and feel normal before i finally get too see and talk too them, Im trying too be gentle with myself but its hard. Sorry if this is long! I have a lot more anxieties and stuff i have too get off my chest and will probably put it in another ask. It feels lighter already too write this out and i am looking forward too all your advice and words😊 thank you for this blog and helping people!

Hey there,

Choosing to set boundaries with friends, with anyone really, is a really big step. Sometimes it can take people their whole life to realise how important making and having boundaries in place with people can be!

As we grow older and leave school, it is to be expected that we will move on from some friends, make new ones, and sometimes even grow further apart or closer to those people we grew up with. This all depends on our lives and interests and how things change for us, the directions we take in life and how they may differ from those we grew up with from our childhood or throughout our schooling. It is also normal that as we grow up we may prefer to be alone more than what we once were and this is completely normal and you are definitely not alone with this!

It can be so hard to learn to let others in no matter how much we want to and especially when sharing something with them that is so personal like our mental health struggles and how we are feeling or have felt in the past. I totally get that somethings that you went through in your past, you just want to forget, I think we all have some of those moments and I know it will be hard but can you just be honest as much as you feel comfortable with your friends? Maybe just by telling them that some of the past photos and videos of you that have been taken, that you are no longer comfortable with them and if they could please delete them. A good friend will listen to you and will not ask questions or make you give them an explanation as to why. A good friend will just be there for you and listen to you when/ if you want to talk and I think that if you do this then it will define just who your good friends are and who isn’t. Unfortunately you cannot make someone delete anything off of their phones but it’s completely OK and in your right to ask them too. Does that make sense?

When we have things that have happened in our past, whether they be good or bad, inflicted upon us by another person or not, it can be difficult to move on from those experiences and be OK with them. Yes you are right in saying that your past doesn’t define you, but you can use your past experiences to help you make better decisions for you in the present moment and your future and so maybe you could look at things from a different perspective? For example, use past mistakes to help you learn from them and not make the same mistakes again, grow from those mistakes to help make you a stronger and better person because of it. Does that make sense? Yes the ruminating thoughts may still be there, but if you try to look at things a little bit differently and use these ruminating thoughts to your advantage then maybe just maybe they won’t bother you as much or take up as much time in your head? Just something to think about!

I do not think that you are being a terrible person at all, I just think that you have been through a lot in your life and that now it’s all just getting to be a little too much and overwhelming as you are finding. I think this because you use to find it easier to distract yourself, calm your thoughts and to use grounding techniques. So maybe it’s time to go back to basics and go from there? Doing this doesn’t mean that you are weak or a failure, it simply just means that you have a lot going on right now and sometimes we all need some extra help and guidance to help us to get back to where we want to be in life.

When it comes to calming yourself down a good first step is to try to control your breathing and slow it down. We actually have a page on calming anxiety and panic which I encourage you to take a look at as it has a lot of helpful hints and different techniques on it. We also have a page on different grounding techniques which you can check out by clicking here. When you are in a better headspace then you will find that using different distractions will become a little bit easier, we just need to get you to that calm, better head space which I am hoping those above pages will help you to do.

It can be hard to do the above though when you have anxieties or stressors over not being able to see or catch up with friends or your sister. I can imagine that this may be made even hard with the pandemic. Can you call them though or shoot them a txt message? I know it isn’t the same as seeing them face-to-face but it may just be enough to help decrease some of your anxiety. What do you think? Also it’s important to know that when you do see them finally, just be yourself. They won’t care if you are anxious or are not doing the best, they will accept you for simply who you are and will be wanting to support you and be there for you because they care.

I really hope that all of this has helped a bit and please do send us in another Ask if you need to and of course let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

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

Take care,

Lauren

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Hey lovely i realised you were taking requests still...i have a bit of a dramatic one so i dont mind if you dont wanna do it so i have anxiety and depression and when i am feeling really down i sometimes dont answer my phone there was a situation where i was overseas for work and bc of being far away from my bf i got rly depressed and didnt answer my phone and he panicked and nearly flew out to me would you mind recreating that situation with yoongi (seeing he deals with mental illness too)?

Hello love!! Thank you for requesting 💖 For this drabble I’ve drawn from personal experience of how I felt a while ago, so if this is not what you had in mind I'm sorry love. If you feel the need to talk to anyone, please reach out to me, I can be a listening ear or just be there 🥺💖

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

TRIGGER WARNING: DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY

When your boss told you about the business trip to Germany you were so excited you immediately texted Yoongi. This was a huge opportunity for you, enough to shake you out of the new slump you had found yourself in. The trip in and on itself was a piece of cake. You would fly out to Germany a Sunday to be there by Monday, manage a couple of new transactions and write a report for the CEO and fly back by Friday. Simple. Yoongi was ecstatic, so happy about this new opportunity that he couldn’t stop bragging about his wonderful girlfriend who had been promoted and would be travelling the world in no time.

This bragging was endearing and so you had been telling yourself since you told him the news; the problem was that you couldn’t help the tingling at the back of your head telling you that spending time away from him wasn’t what you wanted. You already spent a huge amount of time away from each other when he was on tour, but now you were the one flying away from him, alone, to a foreign country. You didn’t even want to start thinking about how much you would miss him, even less the whole week you would be sleeping alone in a strange hotel room. 

Busy with packing and organising documents you just set your phone in the kitchen table and went about your apartment picking things here and there, double and triple-checking if you had everything you would need. Your laptop and phone were inside your little carry on bag and so was your phone charger. The one you couldn’t find was the laptop’s. You put everything upside down looking for it, looking even under the bed, only to find it rolled and tucked in a corner of your suitcase. The sunglasses were in your bag, so was your lip gloss and your purse, all your credit cards and your ID, your passport. You were double-checking everything again when you heard the code being punched in the keypad. Waiting just a little longer, you heard the pit-pat of Yoongi’s feet against the floor getting closer and closer to your room. 

“I should have known you were packing,” he said, hugging you and leaving a soft kiss to your cheek, “you weren’t answering your phone.”

Giving him a guilty look you apologised for worrying him and kept on packing while he showered. That night you were laying awake waiting for the alarm to ring while Yoongi snored away on the other side of the bed. You would miss him so much, his soft snores and the little pout he made when he slept deeply. Noticing the numbness enveloping your head again, you turned your whole body and buried your head in Yoongi’s chest. He was the best buffer against your darkest moments. 

Before going to the airport and against Yoongi’s moaning — “you have checked this already a hundred times, love.” — you checked everything again, turning off the electrical appliances and closing all the taps. You were really bad at saying goodbye and your boyfriend did know that. With a sweet kiss and several whispered I love you’s you took the taxi to the airport and silenced the tiny voice in your head that was trying to list every single thing that could go wrong. 

Conference after conference you noticed how your brain got slower. You were alone all the time while you managed to do your job by keeping yourself busy and not thinking much. You arrived at your hotel so late at night that the only thing you had the strength to do was showering and dropping on the bed to try and get some sleep. 

You were missing Yoongi so much it physically hurt but you didn’t want to call him. He was three times as busy as you were, even forgetting to eat or sleep if he got too hooked in producing a song. Calling him and telling him you were feeling numb again and that you wanted to hold him and never let go would only worry him. When he called there were two possible scenarios; you either felt guilty for not picking up and worrying him further, or you felt a sudden rush of tears filling your eyes seeing how you longed for him to be there with you. The slower the days passed, the stronger the urge to bury yourself amongst the blankets in the hotel bed and sleep grew. By Wednesday it took you nearly half an hour to convince yourself to pull your body out of the bed. Yoongi had given up calling and started flooding your phone with texts since he woke up until he finally fell asleep quite later than recommended. You were making him worry and that made you feel worse. 

You found yourself getting distracted from the most insignificant task with memories from the first days of your relationship, how shy Yoongi was and how he wouldn’t call you after a day afraid that he was being pushy. The day he had opened up to you about how he felt and you both cried when you found out you had more things in common than met the eye.  On Thursday your boss called you out for being absentminded in the middle of a meeting, he had caught you daydreaming about what Yoongi would be doing back home. You wouldn’t know even if he was already awake because you had switched off your phone, overwhelmed by guilt, nostalgia and the numbness on your head that didn’t let any rational thought go through. Missing him, the crushing sadness and the tight knot in your throat were making it difficult to breathe and function properly. When you got to your hotel room that night, slipping off your shoes and checking your work email on your phone, a notification pops up and you frown, opening your personal email.

Min Yoongi

To: yn-yln@xmail.com

Subject: I am desperate.

My love, you have stopped answering my calls, you ignore my texts and you’re alone in a foreign country. I know what loneliness can do to you and I only want you to be safe. If I don’t receive an answer to this email or any of the thousand texts I’ve sent you I am flying to Germany to make sure you’re alright. I just want to know you are safe, if not okay. 

I love you with my whole heart. 

Yoongi.

Tears had started flowing halfway through the message, making you feel so guilty that you closed the email and were calling Yoongi, not caring about anything that wasn’t hearing his voice at the other side of the line. The tones of the call were low reminders: you have time to hang up, he will be worried, you will only worry him more. But you pushed on, ignoring your anxiety’s voice and waited with bated breath until you heard Yoongi answer the call. 

“Y/N, are you feeling okay? Where are you right now? Have you showered?”

You silenced his endless questions with a quiet sob and sat on the edge of the bed. Oh, how you’d missed his voice! And you told him while sobbing, how hard it had been, how lonely and sad you had felt and how anxious of disturbing him that you had gone back to not picking up the phone and wanting to sleep all day long. He sounded agitated and out of breath but you were so focused on not letting your anxiety drive you into a panic that you didn’t notice. 

“Do something for me, sweetheart,” he was saying, now slower and calmer after finally being able to contact you, “get out of your work clothes and take a hot shower. I won’t hang up and be here with you okay? Can you do this for me?”

Your heart swelled at how he was still taking care of you from so far away. He knew exactly what to do when your thoughts numbed. He would always make you take a shower, drink some water if you couldn’t stomach any food and lay with you while his breathing brought you back. He was not pushy, he didn’t make you talk or explain why you were feeling the way you felt. He was just there, a strong dependable presence that kept you sane. 

Listening to him hum to you about his day and things the rest of his friends had done, you went into the bathroom and undressed slowly. You sat a short bit on the toilet lid and just listened to his voice until you almost smiled at some funny thing Jungkook told him to tell you. In a better mood, you entered the shower and let the spray run down your head, the hot water untangling the many knots on your back and shoulders. You imagined that the heat from the shower was a hug from Yoongi, a warm embrace that you could feel through the distance and you loved him even more than you thought possible. Hearing him still talking while worked away at his keyboard made you smile and you switched off the water, getting out and covering your body with a huge white fluffy towel. 

“You’re finished, my love?” He asked and your heart swelled again.

“Yes. And I’m feeling much better, Yoongi. You’re the best.”

“Well, your day with me isn’t over, missy. Now, I have a ton of new songs separated into genres that I want you to listen to while you lay on the bed and we talk until you fall asleep, okay? Tomorrow, before you know it, you will be back here with me and I’ll be able to hug you to sleep. Is this good enough for now?” He whispered into your ear, as if unsure if you wanted that, but as always he knew perfectly what you needed.

Wearing your pyjamas and under the blankets of the huge bed, Yoongi played songs, melodies, beats, anything he was preparing for release or working on. You two chatted away about where would you go once you could go on vacation together and you fell asleep with a smile on your lips hearing the man you loved telling you he loved you back and finally feeling comfortable and safe again.

[prince-eon]

• We’ll Figure It Out • ➥ h. hotel

[ Husk / Reader ]

I made this on a whim because why the fuck not. First story published, not first time writing. GLHF, never written for Husk before but it’s an adventure we can experience together. Also, yes, this was based off of “The Stray” comic by Disteal.

— TL;DR : Some soft Husk shit. The server is a sin. Not really used to writing Husk sorry. Based off of “The Stray”

Pre-Warnings: Just some slight angst with some fluff in it ; a tiny smidge of self-loathing ; more of a platonic thing but if you squint you can see the intimacy

God damn was it fucking freezing. Who knew that Hell would have such blistering winters, then again, it was hell so what the fuck did you expect? The weather here was nothing short of imperfection, choosing to be either sweltering hot or a blistering cold. Even if there were good days, they were short in stock as this place did its best to live up to its name.

Tonight, as you’ve noticed by your numb hands and probably already frozen face, it was freezing tonight, and it just so happened that you were walking home. Today was your birthday, and you had just spent the entire day out alone drinking away your sorrows and passing out at the docks of Lake Wendigo. It wasn’t your brightest idea to go outside in this weather, especially with such a thin sweater on, but it also wasn’t the worst thing you’ve done.

You walked on, staring down at your phone as you message Rosie on what your next job would be for tomorrow. All week you’ve had nothing assigned for you to do and you were tired of sitting around. It made you anxious and adding that on top of the growing pile of depression of your birthday just made you feel all the worse.

 Hey mother      

When’s the haul coming in?      

Read      

 You frowned at the ‘read’ underneath your message. A cloud of white left your lips when you sighed in frustration. Why hasn’t she replied yet? You’re sure you’ve taught her enough on how to use a phone, that and she was a fast learner, so there was no way she’d have trouble texting you back. A frown settled onto your face as you looked up to see the hotel.

This place was the bane of your existence, ever since Rosie sent you off to help Radio-bitch out to repay a favor. That was a month ago, and you were dreading every single second of it. The group of people that helped run this place or participated in the project behind it were complete morons. They were all so neurotic with their actions. It all made you feel awkward and out of place, so much so that you paused when you made it to the door, not moving an inch to reach out and grasp the handle to open it.

You stared holes into the brass piece, taking a glance behind you and questioning on whether you wanted to leave while you still could. It seemed so enticing to leave, go back to Rosie and forget like this place ever existed, back to your regular, daily, miserable life. You stared out down the walkway, going to take a step forward. That was until the doors opened to reveal a tall, skinny bitch.

“Well, look who decided to show up!” Alastor chirped from the doorway, smile ever present, “Come on in, my dear, tonight is a deathly cold night and you must be freezing!” He stepped forward, putting a hand to your back as he pushed you inside and closed the door. The warm air instantly met your skin, and it was only then that you realized just how cold you were.

“Ah, yeah..” You mumbled out, shoving your phone and hands inside your sweater’s pockets to help warm them up. You followed Alastor into the dining area to find everyone already gathered around the table. The atmosphere surrounding them was filled with a warmness that had you pausing in the doorway as Alastor walked back into the kitchen. Almost everyone had a smile on their face, seeming so casual and enjoying each other’s presence while you stood afar. You watched them all move with such up-beat energy that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Charlie shot up out of her seat and called out to you with a wide grin on her face.

“You’re late!” She exclaimed, grabbing your hand and pulling you over to the chair next to hers.

“Sorry, work kept me late.” You explained weakly, falling into your seat when Charlie pushed you to sit with a bit of force behind her action that had you lose your breath.

“That’s fine, Alastor just finished cooking anyway!” Charlie exclaimed, sitting down and smiling eagerly at you with an almost childlike glow to it, “He made your favorite!”

“Y-yeah… I see that.” You smiled awkwardly, looking away and watching as Niffty zoomed out of the kitchen with a large plate of food, one that you recognized so easily as the one your mother used to make when you were but a child. You watched as everyone reached out and started to serve themselves while Niffty kept zooming back and forth between the dining room and kitchen.

You stared out over the crowd, noticing that Vaggie and Angel were having their usual spat, yelling at each other about god knows what this time. Crymini had her feet on the table, leaning back in her chair as she stared down at her lap at the phone in her hand. She occasionally looked up to laugh at Razzle and Dazzle’s antics, who were currently messing with Baxter and getting such easy entertainment off his easy reactions (which involved a lot of screeching). Husk sat across from you, nursing from a bottle of tequila as he watched Vaggie get more heated by the second from Angel’s nonchalance. You briefly wondered if Charlie was ever going to step in, but it seemed that tonight she could care less as she involved herself in a deep conversation with Mimzy.

Upon all this chaos, you slowly dropped the smile on your face, a scowl replacing it as you stared down at the plate before you. You grimaced, the alcohol from earlier making your stomach twist at the thought of food. You shook your head, making it ache from the sudden movement as you moved your chair back to stand up. You moved to walk around the table, heading towards the door and tuning out the loud banter in the room. No one but Mimzy noticed, and when she called out to you, everyone stopped what they were doing for a short moment to look at you. 

“Hey! Where you going? You just got here and you’re leaving already?” She questioned, crossing her arms.

You paused in the doorway, glancing back at them, “I’m just gonna make a quick call. I’ll be back in a jiffy, don’t worry.” You explained, turning around and jumping back a bit when you almost ran into Alastor. You looked up at him, noticing the way he tilted his head in confusion down at you as he held another plate of your favorite meal. You said nothing other than an apology, moving your gaze to the ground as you stepped aside and continued your stroll to the exit. Not once did you ever notice the pair of eyes watching you.

You stepped back out into the cold, immediately feeling the cold hit your face. Your whole body shivered in response to the chill air of the night. It had you crossing your arms subconsciously in an attempt to save what little body heat you had. You looked around at your surroundings, checking to see if there were any unwanted presence around you. Last time you hadn’t checked the surrounding area of the hotel, a zeppelin blowed a hole into the entrance.

Shivering at the memory of bitch mc-gee’s show of power, you turned and began strolling around the building. You stared up at it and took in all its glory, every crevice, every detail. The place looked like it went through three hurricanes and back, or like dog shit. In simpler words, it looked run-down and awful, but you were sure that the twizzler would get it back up and running. If Rosie taught you anything, it was that when it came to Alastor, he could do some damn impressive things in his achieving ‘entertainment’ in his own means.

You scoffed at the thought. Never will you understand the fondness your dear Rosie had for the maniac. You rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the aching in your head, but it proved to be fruitless. Groaning in discomfort, you decided to focus ahead of you and where you were heading. The tall shadows casted by the hotel left little to see, but it was no issue to you when you finally reached the back alley.

The back of the hotel was your favorite hot spot and hide away to get away from everyone. It was your haven from the loud sounds of laughter and yelling provided from the patrons in there. Out here, you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted away from the scrutinizing eye of others. It was also a place to get your smoke on without having radio shack yell at you. Now that you think about it, having a quick smoke before heading back inside didn’t sound so bad, so without second thought you reached into your back pocket and pulled out the box of cigars you had along with your lighter.

You walked up to the brick wall of the hotel, leaning against it next to the back-exit while you pulled out a stick and lit the end of it. When it started smoking, you took a long drag out of it before pulling back and blowing a white cloud of smoke into the air. You watched it swirl and dance around for a moment, almost memorized by the way the cloud moved. It was only when the cloud of white disappeared that you allowed yourself to pull your phone out, opening messages and instantly tapping on Rosie’s name.

You huffed in annoyance as you noticed she had yet to message you back, “God fucking dammit…” You cursed under your breath, letting yourself fall ass-first to the ground in frustration. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing deeply to control your anger before you ended up punching a hole into the brick wall. You sat up again, pulling your phone up and starting to type a message to once more ask Rosie what she had wanted you to do. Not once did you notice the door open, nor the heavy footsteps coming closer to you until they called out to you.

 “Hey, kid.” A deep and husky voice spoke.

 You nearly jumped out of your skin, letting a few curses slip out as you almost dropped your phone. You snapped your head up, ready to cuss whoever decided to startle you out, but instead surprise replaced your anger as you saw the last person you’d expect to see out here. “Husk? What are you doing out here? Head back inside man, I’ll be done in a sec.”

He shrugged, bringing the bottle of tequila up to his lips, “Just getting some air.” Is all he said before taking a swig, throwing his head back and downing almost half the bottle in an instant.

“Oh.” Is all you said as you watched him drink before turning back to stare down at your screen.

Husk pulled the bottle back down, glancing down at you. He furrowed his brows at the look on your face as you typed out a message to whoever it was you were so focused on texting. He looked away to the bottle in his hand, taking small glances between you and his drink, wondering if whether he should even offer you a sip. He glanced back down to you, watching you smash your fingers onto the bright screen in frustration. He let out a sigh, taking a few steps towards you before plopping down adjacent to you.

You looked up, narrowing your eyes in suspicion of his actions, a small hint of confusion bubbled in the back of your mind. You opened your mouth, ready to tell him off, but he beat you to it by raising the bottle of tequila in offering to you, “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.” He spoke.

You stared at him in surprise. It was known around the hotel staff that if there was one thing Husk would not separate from, it was his liquor. So, of course it was a shocker when he offered you that bottle. You closed your mouth, not saying anything or even daring to move, and that seemed to make him anxious. Husk thought he’d maybe made the wrong move, seeing as how you didn’t move or reply. He had half the mind to take back what he said, swallowing a pool of saliva in nervousness and opening his mouth to prepare to fix the awkward situation before it got worse. However, there was no need as you raised your hand and grasped the bottle, taking it from him.

“Thanks…” you replied, staring down at the bottle before taking a small sip and handing it back over to him. You tensed when your fingers brushed, feeling a pit of anxiety settle in your gut. You ignored it, however, and continued to stare down at your phone to read through what you’ve already typed down. A scowl formed on your face as you scrolled up to read through previous messages Rosie had sent your over the past month. Whether it was her telling you to listen to Alastor or to be good or to just wait for her instructions, it all had you huffing in anger.

A cold breeze passed through, making you shiver and hug yourself to savor body heat. You let out a sigh, leaning your head back to close your eyes again. The ambience of the area around the hotel filled your ears along with the occasional sound of liquid being jostled around inside a glass bottle. It was then that you realized the cat was still here. You furrowed your brows, suddenly not liking the silence that filled the air between you and Husk. It was thick with awkwardness, and it left you anxious in its wake.

“…it—” you started, glancing up at the cat demon next to you, “It’s just a bit too loud inside… and weird… I’m not really used to such a lively atmosphere, so…” You trailed off, turning your head away from him to avoid meeting his gaze, not that he cared. He didn’t even bother to look down at you, all he did was take a couple more swigs from his bottle while staring up at the dim pentagram in the dark red sky before speaking, “It’s okay, kid. You don’t have to explain yourself to me… I understand.”

Your face twisted in a slight grimace, “Yeah, it’s just really not my thing…”

Husk sighed in slight annoyance but dared not to say anything. Instead, he only shrugged as he looked down at the bottle in his hand. “I get it.” He replied, swirling the alcohol around in boredom.

You frowned, brows furrowing in frustration as you stared at the ground in irritation. A beat of silence settled between the both of you before you squared your shoulders, sitting straight and looking up at the cat in irritation. “See, I don’t think you do. I don’t think we’re really on the same page here.” You spat. You stood up, moving away from him and glaring out around the surrounding area. You took deep breaths in an attempt to control your anger. But it proved to be futile as when you turned around to glare at him, the look on his face that told you he could care less had your blood boiling.

“You all just go on doing all this stupid, kumbaya shit without a care in the world of the consequences.” You started, “You all have this sense of freedom within the hotel, a place that you all seem to call home with no trouble in doing so.” Your teeth were grit in disgust, the anger was building on your shoulders and you tried to keep it contained, but the bucket was overflowing, and it all spilled out and came undone.

“You all have it so easy, don’t you?! You get to walk around here without feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders! Well, I ain’t ever had that shit Husk! People like ME in my situation, in MY line of work are on a one-way conveyor belt to being screwed over and being complete fuck-ups!”

Your hands hurt from how tightly they were clenched. You could feel your claws digging into your flesh and spilling your blood in them. Anger and frustration were coursing through your veins as you had finally cracked under the pressure and stress of the month. The drawer was open, and you could do nothing but release all this pent-up stress by yelling at him. You didn’t know why you were doing it, especially to him out of all people, but all you wanted to do in that moment was to just be angry. And you wanted him to be angry back at you. You wanted him to fight, to yell, to scream at you and smash the bottle over your damn head for even having the gall to say such things in his face. But all he did was just look up at you with this disinterested look that pissed you off even more.

“We don’t GET big, happy, family stuff man! All we do is get moved around until our owners have an excuse to shoot us down!” You cried out in rancor, feeling tears starting to blur your vision as the water works finally unleashed themselves. You raised a hand, making sloppy work of trying to wipe them away. “All this, and you all just— fuckin— wanna make that all better and fix it like it’ll all go away…”

Your hand dropped, the cold air numbing your face even more as the hot tears continued to pour. You clenched your hands tightly and stared down into the ground with a look of distaste, “Don’t patronize me…” You mumbled out tiredly, “I’m not stupid, y’know. I know what cards I got dealt…” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself tightly, “…I know exactly how this will all play out in the end…”

Nothing was said when you finished, your rant was met with nothing but silence. You scowled, keeping your gaze on the ground and dared not to look up. If only you did, you would have seen Husk stare up at you in disbelief at the end of your spiel. Not once did he think that you'd crack under any of their presence, especially with him, and especially with how collected you always appeared to be. Your words were harsh, and to be honest it kind of pissed him off on how much you assumed that they all had better lives. True, here at the hotel everyone had a chance to let loose and be themselves just a bit more than they could out there. But despite that, he didn't let your assumptions or outburst get to him. All he did was huff in in nonchalance, moving to stand while taking another swig of his drink. 

You said nothing, only listening patiently to what Husk would do next. When he finally started moving, you flinched as you heard his heavy footfalls, each step had you dreading what would come next. You were almost afraid of him, your whole-body trembling when you noticed that he stopped just short of you. Not once did you dare look up at him, not wanting to see the look on his face after you just practically screeched him out. So, imagine your surprise when he lowered the bottle from his mouth, not to strike you with, but to speak words that had you tearing up again in an instant.

“I know exactly how you feel, kid.” He started slowly, “I mean, was just like you when I was younger.” You snapped your head up, staring up at him with an incredulous look on your face.. You opened your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“I get it, y’know? I get that it seems like the world is out to trip you at every step. I get the anger when some random, unfair bullshit puts you back at square one.” He takes a quick gulp of his drink, staring up at the sky when he brought the bottle down, “I know how it feels when you think you gotta turn your back on the world, the thought that it can’t hurt you if you push it away.”

He turned his gaze down to you, a look in his eye that made you want to do nothing but cry right there and then for the rest of the night. He furrowed his brows at the tears rolling down your cheeks, “I also know you’re too young to survive that. Fighting the universe will kill you before it kills itself.”

He reached up a hand, going to wipe away a tear before you snapped your head away from his touch. You crossed your arms again as you glared daggers into the ground. “Why are you telling me this, man?!” You cried out in exasperation.

Husk huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you, “’Cause the worlds a shithole.” He started, “It’s hard and I can’t do anything to change that.” He raised his hand again, cupping your cheek and making you look up at him as he wiped away a tear. “But believe me when I say it’s harder when you’re fighting alone.”

He dropped his hand, turning around to face the door as if he were about to walk away, “You want me to leave, kid? I’ll leave. But I’m here offering you a hand…” He glanced back, “You give me the word, let me know you’re not ready to give up on us yet…”

    “Do that, and you never have to be alone again.”

  You said nothing, only staring at him and drowning in those warm pools that made up his eyes. There was something about them that just had you tearing up again. You couldn’t pull away, seeming in a trance and lost in the comfort they provided you. Your chest ached, and your heart throbbed at the way he seemed to look at you at that moment, and it wasn’t until you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket that you looked away.

You pulled out your phone, opening it up and watching the three dots float up onto the bottom of the screen, indicating that Rosie was finally replying to you.

 May I need to remind you that you are not needed tomorrow either?

You are such a busy bee.

Take some time for yourself.

 Her messages had you deflate a bit. You almost threw your phone down in anger if it wasn’t for the next one she sent. You stared at your screen, watching the white text bubble pop up at the bottom of the screen.

  Also, happy birthday love <3

   A choked sob left your mouth. The tears by now were waterfalls and were spilling down onto the screen of your phone and even down to the pavement below. You tried to wipe them away, having a hard time to see what was in front of you, but it proved futile as they only continued to pour. By now, you were a crying mess, the sorrow enveloping your mind along with the tears in your eyes making you blind to Husk’s movement. He walked over to you, stopping when he reached your side. He wasn’t sure what to do, raising his hand and lowering it multiple times while you sobbed an ugly mess. Husk only made a move when you finally collapsed to the ground knees first.

He rubbed the back of his neck, moving to kneel next to you. He opened a wing and wrapped it around you before pulling you close. You immediately caved into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing your mess of a face into his shoulder. He was startled at how easily you latched onto him and allowed your defenses to lower. You always had your walls up, never letting them down around others save for Rosie. But even then, it was rare you’d ever lose your composure. You were this stone-faced demon, almost relentless towards others, but in this very moment you were nothing but a young, small, feeble creature who was just as scared as the others in this damned place.

Husk couldn’t help but feel something nudge against his heart strings. He had this unrelenting force build up inside of him, something that wanted to keep you safe from all the bad things this world had to offer. He didn’t know why he felt that or what came over him, all he knew was that he never wanted to see you so distraught, so broken, ever again. It was that thought that had him wrapping an arm around you, giving you a few pats on your back and wincing when it seemed to make you cry harder.

He felt so uncomfortable in doing that, as if it had been decades since he had last comforted a crying person (which it had), but he made an effort to drown those feelings of discomfort and let you sob into his shoulder. You both stayed like that, your arms around his neck with your face buried into the surprisingly soft fur of his shoulder. His arms and wings wrapped around you in some form of comfort along with some protection against the cold. It was a while before you finally calmed down, enough to mumble out three simple words that would change your life.

   “…I need help…” you mumbled out.

Husk huffed, tightening his hold on you in some form of comfort as if letting you know that he’s there, and that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  “Don’t worry, kid… we’ll figure it out… together.”

[asocialoverthinker]

Oh look, my hand slipped!

Lately, I've been seeing a lot of posts regarding the number of reblogs someone's post gets and how discouraging it is for writers or content creators if their posts predominantly get likes and not as many reblogs as they'd want, so I felt the need to share my opinion on the matter.

As a reader, I most often only leave kudos on AO3 or likes on Tumblr. I've been reading fanfiction for about a year now and it's only recently that I've started posting comments, because my anxiety, even when I'm being anonymous, makes me rethink and overthink (username checks out.) every single word I'd write.

Has what I want to say been said already? Would the author feel uncomfortable if I commented on every single of their fics in one day? Would they mind my comment for whatever reason? Would someone I know find my comments and make fun of me because of them or judge me for the content I read?

Not to mention I'm someone who's been told her whole life she talks too much and heard "Sorry, I wasn't listening, what did you say?" too many times growing up that my willingness to share my thoughts on something.. anything is constantly extremely low unless I feel absolutely comfortable in a given situation. Therefore, while I respect people's need to get feedback on their efforts, I would like to say that, for me at least, being told a "like" or "kudos" isn't enough and that a reblog or a comment is the true form of validating someone's work, all it does is it puts more pressure on me and honestly, drives away any intention to interact with the OP at all.

Guess it's also no surprise I'm Serbian and therefore don't really like being told what to do or in what way.

Now, since I'm also a fanfiction writer, I look at this issue from that perspective as well. The main reason why I don't post my work online yet is because I'm, I can freely say, addicted to the feedback I get from my friends and sometimes read their comments countless times if I'm having a bad day, for example. If I were to post what I write and not get any comments, which I've seen happen with so many incredible fics (not that mine are incredible... yet 😂), I'd feel like I posted something no one liked, I wasted the time of the people who read it, I shouldn't have even bothered etc etc. But those reactions? They aren't on the people who didn't comment. They're on me. They're a reflection of my own personal issues that I'm working on and I'm hoping I'll one day be free of. Also, I'm pretty sure my future readers will have their own lives, their own issues, their own reasons why they will or will not interact with me and my work in whatever way and that's okay.

I write because it's what I love to do. It's a hobby of mine that's grown from a coping mechanism for grief and depression, to something that gives me joy, lets me explore different ideas, lets me create scenarios I wish were real, helps me process things that have happened to me and so on and so on. Having the opportunity to share my work with others? Hear their reactions? That's just a bonus to me. Reading my friends say how they enjoyed reading my work, how it made them laugh, made them cry, made them read it a few times over, it makes my heart swell. But whether it's just one person coming in contact with my work, or ten or hopefully one day more, I will still appreciate every kudos, every like, every comment, every reblog, every ask, every DM. Like I said before, I can get extremely anxious about publicly commenting that I prefer to send anon asks or DMs to my favourite writers and I am yet to meet a single one that wasn't happy with me reaching out that way, even if I never commented on their writing before or reblogged it.

To wrap this up because of course I did it again and wrote a whole novel for no reason, there are some things I'd like to point out.

Fanfiction is free. It should be done out of love and without conditions. Writers live for feedback, I absolutely agree with that and relate 100%, but the ways people choose or are comfortable with interacting with them shouldn't be ranked. Now, I really don't want to sound patronising, so instead of a conclusion to this post, here's a message to the people who hopefully one day choose to read my work and to everyone that's already read it:

Your like/kudos is deeply appreciated and if it's all you're comfortable with, that's awesome and I love you for it.

Your reblog is deeply appreciated and if it's something you're comfortable with, by all means, reblog away, I love you for it.

Your comment is deeply appreciated and I adore you for it.

Your anon ask or DM is deeply appreciated and every bit as valuable as a public comment. I do however apologize in advance for the lengthy responses and geeking out over all of them and once again, I adore you for them.

P.S. To all the writers I've only given a like/kudos to: I love and (take a shot every time I say this word) appreciate your work. I've probably read it more than once and I'm extremely grateful that you've chosen to post it and I hope that one day I'll be able to freely show you how much your work means to me.

Over and out.