#they immediately assumed that i had relapsed or tried to kill myself

[sapphirelycoris]

can i request bokuto and/or kuroo headcannon with a fem s/o who’s a famous actress? Like she’s been in really popular shows and movies and is known all around the world. They get a copy of a movie she’s in early and decide to watch it at home together. As the movie goes on, her and the male-lead have an explicit moment and they get jealous? Hope this isn’t too complicated!💗

Ship: Tetsurō Kuroo I Kōtarō Bokuto x fem!reader (She/her) !separately!

Warnings: Suggestive content and a lot of mentions of sex. I made Bokuto sad. Semi-nsfw.

Author's note: Some of these lines could be straight out of an otome game istg I've been on Love 365 too much and I'm slowly relapsing. So if some lines of dialogue seem cheesy, ya'll know why. Enjoy tho!

Kuroo & Bokuto w/famous actress S/O Part II

Kuroo & Bokuto with a famous actress S/O ft: Getting jealous

✰ 𝐾𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑜 ✰

When Kuroo tells his co-workers that you’re his girlfriend, they kind of just laugh at him.

They’re like, “Yeah. Keep dreaming.” You’re a world renown actress and your supposedly with a normal office worker? Yeah right.

And then they find out that you’re actually his partner. He will brag about you all day if you give him the chance.

“How did someone like her, end up with you?” People always ask him.

“I ask myself the same thing.”

You’d been away, filming a movie for a few weeks in a different country and that was the last scene.

Kuroo had been missing you like crazy but you updated him on everything.

Everything except… the sex scene.

When you received a copy of the movie early, Kuroo wanted to watch it immediately.

You wanted to put it off as long as you could but there you were, sitting on the couch under a blanket in front of the TV screen.

It was mainly an action movie with a romance on the side but then the main characters get married in the end and end up having sex on their honeymoon.

You’d done scenes like this before but that was pre-Kuroo and you didn’t care about them. It was loveless sex and you had no emotional attachments to your co-workers.

You assumed Kuroo knew that, he was a smart boy.

He should know it takes you awhile to be vulnerable with someone but there was also the possibility that he might've gotten mad for not turning down the role.

My girlfriend is such a badass. He sighed in delight as he watched you kill it during the fights.

When the last scene was on, you tried to escape by getting some food from the kitchen but Kuroo made you sit your ass down.

I should’ve gone to the bathroom instead… you groaned internally.

The guy pushed you down on the bed and started taking off his clothes and Kuroo’s eyes got big.

He knew what was coming and when the guy kissed you, his face instantly dropped. He had his arms crossed and you could see his fists clench.

You tried to avoid contact with him as much as possible but Kuroo kept looking between you and the screen.

”Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

”Filming the movie? Yeah the crew was very nice…“ You knew what he meant but it was just so awkward explaining that to him.

“I mean, did you enjoy the sex?”

”You’re insane. We barely even touched each other and-“

”Yes or no (Name)?”

“No. No I didn’t.“

Kuroo shrugged and acted nonchalantly.

“Are you jealous?” You slid up to his side and rested your chin on his shoulders.

”Kind of..." He admitted.

"You know I have no feelings for him. You're the only man I want. If you want, I'll stop doing those scenes. Can I make it up to you?"

He knew it was part of your job. But he mainly wanted a reason for you to offer sex to him. You were busy these past few months and there wasn't much time for that.

Now that he finally got you alone and at a good time, he really needed to release his pent up sexual frustration.

You were led into the bedroom and he trapped you underneath him.

"I'll make sure you enjoy tonight." Kuroo looked you in the eyes as he slid down your body.

✰ 𝐵𝑜𝑘𝑢𝑡𝑜 ✰

Now it was no surprise to the public when you announced your relationship with Boktuo.

You were known for thirsting over him and you finally got to go on a date with him.

He loves you. A lot. There's no doubt about that and you also feel the same about him.

So you got to watch an early copy of the newest movie you were starring in with a very well-known actor.

This guy was known for dating his co-stars and he was very handsome.

Of course, Bokuto knows you aren't going to cheat but he can't help that little voice in the back of his head saying, "You sure she wants to stay with you?"

Whenever filming is done you had interviews and all that to do.

And your poor boyfriend was feeling lonely.

It didn't help the growing worry of you leaving him for the other man. You had amazing on screen chemistry with him.

I just imagine Bokuto's hair deflating when he sees you getting along with him during interviews, sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his head with a sad face.

Poor guy just gets so insecure. My mans needs some reassurance!

Anyways, when you finally get to spend time with him, you're at his side 24/7. This man begs you to come to his practices regardless if you're suppose to be there or not.

His team is thankful when he gets back to his usual bubbly self.

One day after practice, he's greeted by you holding a copy of your newest movie in hand.

"Date night?" You grinned, waving it around.

He hops in the shower and then comes back out and jumps into your lap. You don't know how long he was actually in there, or if he even got in at all.

The movie was a romance and you were in an arranged marriage, trying to get through life with a smile. Then somewhere along the way, you fell into an affair with your boss.

"You look so pretty in this scene." Bokuto complimented, pointing at the screen like a little boy at a toy commercial.

Bokuto's smile faltered towards the middle of the movie when the male lead unbuttoned your blouse.

The way your eyes looked up at his face so seductively, Bokuto wanted to throw up while admiring how sexy you looked.

"Hey (Name)! You still want me, right?" His pent up anxiety finally snapped and he grabbed your shoulders, shaking you back and forth.

"What?" You startled, "What on Earth do you mean by that?"

He pointed to the screen again when you were on top of the other actor and kissing his neck.

You started laughing and shaking your head. You paused the movie and held his face. "'Course I do. He's just a co-worker and friend. Nothing more. Do you know how long it took me to find the courage to ask you out?"

Bokuto pouted as if he didn't believe you.

"I'm in love with you, not him. Don't ever doubt that. You're sweet and lovable, and reliable. Everything he isn't."

Slowly, his pout turned into a cheesy grin. "Aw okay. I'm sorry for doubting you. I want to watch the rest of the movie. But can you skip through the sex?"

You happily obliged now that you got your Bokuto back.

Later that evening when you were coming to bed, instead of getting in on your side, you straddled his waist that barely held up his sweatpants.

"You up for a few rounds tonight?" You asked.

His face lit up as he rapidly nodded his head.

"By the time I'm done with you, you should know how much I appreciate my good boy." You leaned down and whispered in his ear, gliding your nails along his collarbone.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Off Day: Sixteen

“You sure you’ll be okay for a few days?” Bucky asked anxiously.

“I’m sure,” you say, putting a beer in front of him, “The girls are going to come to spend the night with me one night and the next night I’m gonna go up and fuck around in Red Key. Get some nice Icecream. Maybe see a movie.”

Bucky nods, “You gonna call me if you need me right?” You nod and snuggle into his lap, “I promise,” you murmur, linking your pinky through his. He kisses his thumb and presses it to yours to lock it and smiles.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he sighs, “I just know you’re not feeling well right now.”

“Bucky, I’m okay,” you yawn, “It’s just some sinus crud and a low vitamin D level. All I need is a few good nights of sleep and some orange juice.”

“Still, I’d feel better if you’d come with me. I understand a bike rally isn’t your scene. I know why you don’t want to go. But I don’t like leaving when you don’t feel well.”

“Hey,” you murmur, tilting his chin up to make him look at you, “Bucky, this isn’t about my sniffles. What is it?”

“There’s... talk,” he sighs, not able to lie to you. It’s a rule you have. Honesty. You tell him if you hurt yourself. He tells you when he needs a little space. You tell him what you need and he tells you what he needs.

“What kind of talk?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair tenderly.

“Talk that Rumlow and his crew are gonna try and call in the bill your dad owed him,” he said wincing.

You sigh, “I know,” you tell him, kissing his forehead, “But, I’ll be okay. I know where you stashed your shotgun.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow, “Baby-”

“What?” you say shrugging, “This is my house. I know what’s here. If I was going to kill myself with it I would have already. I’m more likely to fuck myself up of some over the counter shit... Like I don’t know how many Benadryl it would take to kill me but I do know it isn’t 18.”

“Hey,” he frowns, popping you on the ass, making you yelp.

“Too hard,” you whimper.

“Good,” he growls, “Stop making jokes about you dying.”

“I’m not joking,” you say mildly, “if we take everything out of the house I could kill myself with there would be nothing in the house.”

Bucky feels himself scowl, but, he knows you have a point. And he doesn’t mean to treat you like you’re made of glass. It’s just scary to him. How quickly you can make a decision and act on it when your demons get too loud. The last time you’d had a self-harm relapse all it had taken was six minutes. You’d needed stitches in your thigh and Bucky had been terrified. You came down stairs like nothing had happened. You’d seemed fine all day, happy even, even if you were quieter than normal. He hadn’t even known you were bleeding. That you had a bandana wrapped around your thigh. You hadn’t wanted to tell him. And he’d felt sick when he made you show him. He’d never seen the immediate aftermath before. What it looked like when you didn’t want to die but needed to hurt because that was the only way you could process your feelings.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “That’s not the point.”

“That is the point though. There’s not a force on Earth that could stop me if I really wanted to die that badly. But I don’t want to and I’ll be okay for a few days,” you say kissing him, “This is something you do with your friends a few times a year. It’s good business and it gets you out of town for a bit. I get it. Go have fun. Clint already promised to send me a video if you do anything funny... And I have a stash of things to keep me busy if I need it.”

Bucky looked up at you and rubbed your hip, “Alright, he said softly. You yawn and he smiles a little, “Tired, Princess?”

You nod and he chuckles, “Got your belly full and now it’s time for bed, huh?”

“It was a long day,” you murmur, cheeks coloring.

“Well,” he drawls, rubbing your stomach gently, “Let’s get you in bed. Do you want Daddy to tuck you in?” You’re not sure if he knows you’ve got a tummy ache or if he’s just assuming you do because he knows you ate a little too much, still. It feels nice. You know he’s teasing you just a little. You slipped and called him daddy once during playtime and now he used it to make you tremble when he was alone with you.

“I want you to fuck me to sleep,” you tell him shyly.

“Something wrong, baby girl?” he asked.

“No,” you answer, “I’m just gonna miss you and I know tomorrow morning won’t be enough.”

He tuts playfully and scoops you up, getting to his feet to carry you upstairs, “Needy,” he teases, “So needy. You can’t just have my cock inside you all the time.”

“Why not?” you ask innocently. “Last week you made me warm you while you fed me strawberries.”

“That was different,” he murmured, “My Princess was having a bad day and I wanted her to eat. And it’s very hard for you to be unhappy when you’re too horny to think straight.”

“That’s fair but you were still inside me when you were doing it,” you kiss his jaw and he chuckles.

“Well. I wanted your mouth busy and your pussy full at the same time, baby girl. And I know how much you love a nice long cuddle. Especially when you feel down. I just want to make sure my princess was taken care of. Just like tonight.”

You make a soft noise and snuggle close, “Thank you, daddy,” you murmur.

“Don’t thank me yet Princess,” he chuckled, “You told me to fuck you to sleep and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Bucky lays you gently on the bed and expertly strips you out of your clothes. His hands are firm but gently and he takes the time to make you giggle, squeezing lightly above your knees as his hands slide up to pull your panties down. He pushes your thighs apart gently to expose your sex and tuts softly, “Someone has been thinking some very naughty thoughts, look at you. I haven’t even touched you!” He kisses down the insides of your thighs lovingly and nuzzles your mound, “Good girl,” he praises when you arch into him, “There’s my needy little brat.” He slides a finger against your folds and grins when you shiver in need, “I’ll never get tired of watching you, Princess. You’re so pretty when you’re burnin’ up for me.”

“Daddy, please?” you whine, hands already fisting in the covers even from just this much.

“So impatient,” he scolds, taking his finger away and unbuckling his belt, chuckling when you whine in protest. “We gotta take it slow babygirl,” he says, bending his head to kiss your stomach. “I don’t wanna hurt your tummy. Miss three brownies and a glass of milk before dinner.” Your cheeks color and he knows you’re about to apologize, so he kisses you quiet, “You eat whatever you want,” he rumbled, rubbing your stomach gently, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. I know last week was a rough one for eating. I made brownies so you would eat them, princess. I’m just sorry your tummy hurts... is it from the brownies or the seconds you ate to keep me from worrying?”

“Both probably,” you sigh, cheeks burning as he rubs the taught skin. You wish this wasn’t such a common problem but as you either don’t eat or can’t stop eating, any time you eat more than you should, anything more than small portions of anything, your stomach aches. Bucky just chuckles and keeps rubbing. He doesn’t mind this. He was just glad you were eating more or less consistently. That your body was readjusting and you were healthy for the most part. Doctors were keeping an eye on a couple things, careful to monitor for any major changes, things caused by exposure to some of the things you’d been exposed to. But, Bucky was proud to say, your last physical had left you with a clean bill of health aside from some Vitamin D being low but, that was a simple fix.  

When he feels you relax under his hands a few minutes later, he smiles, “Better?” You nod and tug him down for a kiss. You know you’re being needy but he’s leaving tomorrow and you won’t get good night kisses for a few days.

Bucky shifts his focus then. He knows what needy feels like in his Princess. He knows that this isn’t bratty behavior. You need reassurance and cuddles. You need love, not discipline. You might be fine with him leaving but that doesn’t mean you’re not a little sad about it. Or that you’re not going to feel a little insecure about him being around other women. Pretty half-dressed women that weren’t you. Women flirted with him. He might not flirt back, but they still did it.

The first time, it happened while he had you out on a date. You’d been polite. Even left the offending waitress a nice tip, but more than once Bucky had seen your eyes get over bright. He’d tried to stop her. Asked for boxes as quickly as he could. But she’d STILL written her number on the receipt. Bucky had braced for the perfect storm of jealous screaming and crying but there hadn’t been. You’d been quiet most of the ride home until he’d come to help you down.

“She was really pretty,” you murmur, “And nice.” Not broken. You hadn’t said it but he knew that’s what you meant.

“But really rude,” Bucky said, kissing your hands.

“You’re not going to call her?”

The question broke his heart. So did the look on your face. Quietly hopeful. He hated that your life had set the bar this low for you. That you expected so little.

“Absolutely not,” he said, brushing hair out of your eyes to kiss your nose. “You’re my girl now. I been waiting 20 years for you. I’m not gonna be chasin’ anyone else. You hear me? You’re mine now. My girl. And I protect mine.”

“I hear you,” you answered, smiling up at him.

Bucky remembered that, in the back of his mind ever since. Even now. As he made love to you tenderly and murmured reassurances and praise as he made you come for him again and again. He reminded himself there was a difference between insecurity and jealousy. Insecurity could cause jealousy and as long as he kept his eyes on his prize. Kept his Princess as his priority, he’d be fine.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he rumbled in your ear as his hand tangled in your hair, jerking your head back so he could bite your neck.

“Yes, daddy,” you whine, gasping for air.

“This is mine,” he rumbled, pushing into you with a groan, basking in the feel of your walls around him, “You’re killin’ me, baby girl. You’re such a good girl. Always so tight for me. Always taking all my come like a good girl. Letting me fuck you to sleep so you have sweet dreams.”

Bucky groans when you come for him again and he finds his own release once more. He’s thankful you got on birth control. He really loves having nothing between you and it’s strangely satisfying, watching his come leaking out of you as he cleans you up.

“You’re mine, too right?” you ask, half turning to look at him as he lays you down on your belly.

“Always,” he murmurs, nuzzling your spine, “Always. Always. I could never love anyone the way I love you... I definitely can’t let anyone else call me Daddy. And you’re always gonna be my Princess... At least until we have a daughter. Then you’ll get a promotion.”

You laugh a little and pull Bucky close, needing the comfort of him. The feel of his skin against yours. He comes to you readily, tucking you in and making sure you’re comfortable, taking the time to put your new teddy bear in your arms too. “Can you sleep now, Princess?” he asks softly. You nod, looking up at him drowsily. “Good,” he murmured, “You need your sleep. Daddy’s gonna hve lots for you to do for him while he’s gone.”

Tags: @lancsnerd @thorfanficwriter @etherealwaifgoddess @stevieang @blameitonthecauseway @wellfucksorrymum

[boarderlinebaddie]

The Day I Relapsed *TRIGGER WARNING*

This is a true story about something that happened to my FP. It mentions hospitals, self harm, and anxiety attacks. TRIGGER WARNING!!!

Also thank you for taking the time to read this if you do, it means a lot <3

The sun was down and the night was upon us. The stars were hiding behind a cover of soft grey clouds. The street lamp above me cast a golden glow on my car and the street below. I had been waiting for a while.

I couldn’t see his car anywhere near me. I’d assumed it was somewhere close, but I just couldn’t see it from my angle. I thought nothing of it, and as the hour passed, I waited patiently. A group of workers came out, but I didn’t see him. My heart began to drop. Tears filled my eyes. I knew something wasn’t right.

“I have to go home now,” I wrote, “I’m sorry for bailing but I’ll get in trouble if I don’t get home soon. See you soon, goodnight” I sent the message, hands shaking.

Somethings wrong

Somethings wrong

Somethings wrong

Something- *ping!*

My phone broke the thick silence.

“I’m at the hospital.”

My heart sank into my stomach.

I knew it

I knew it

I tried to call. No answer. I tried again.

“Not now” he wrote, “I’ll call you”

I had arrived home. I threw the door open and walked to my room, doing my best to wipe away my tears and hide the brokenness in my voice as my mom asked where I’d been.

“With my friends,” I lied, “I’m going to sleep, I’m real tired,”

I tossed myself on my bed and waited.

Seconds felt like minutes.

Minutes felt like hours.

The clock ticked.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

A tear escaped my eye.

Somethings wrong

Somethings wrong

Somethings wrong

Somethings wrong

So- *ring!*

My phone broke the heavy silence.

I answered immediately. His voice was cold. Broken. Shaking.

“What happened,” I asked immediately. Something bad.

“I’m at the hospital,” Something’s wrong.

“Why?” It’s bad it’s bad it’s bad it’s-

“I told that teacher. I told her too much and she sent me here,” all your fault all your fault

“I’m so sorry,” all your fault all your fault all your fault all-

“I just want to go home,” his voice broke. I’d never heard him cry. I cried too, “I want to go home,”

All your fault- “say something,” he pleaded. My heart was falling to pieces.

“Please, please say something!” He shouted. All your fault all your fault ALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULTALLYOURFAULT-

“I love you,” I choked. His breathing was all I could hear.

“I love you too,” his broken voice said back. Then, he was gone again.

I couldn’t take it.

All

Your

Fault

I ran outside into the night. Thunder rolled quietly in the distance. I threw the car door open. The scream clawed at my throat.

ALL

YOUR

FAULT

I screamed into my palms. I screamed again. And again. And again.

KILL YOURSELF. ALL YOUR FAULT

I beat my fists against the wheel. Against my thighs. Against my skull.

JUMP. SLIT YOUR WRIST. PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN

I sobbed. I screamed. I beat my fists against my body until I was tingling. I fell back outside into the dark. I put my face in between my knees as I curled up on the concrete ground and screamed once more.

It’s

All

Your

Fault

I didn’t sleep that night.

The next week was a blur.

I stopped eating.

I didn’t sleep.

I cried.

And cried.

And stared off in a daze.

I was alone.

And it was my fault.

Until I finally did it again.

I slit my skin open again. And watched it bleed. Felt the sting of the razor on my skin again. It was enough to quiet my screaming mind again.

And that’s where we are now.

[cosmicdpd-blog]

it scares me that my datefriend is constantly worried that im going to kill myself or self-harm. my mental state must be worse than i thought if they’re that scared of it

[gldengod-a2]

WHY I THINK DENNIS KILLED BRIAN LEFEVRE

*Be Advised* The following post contains some graphic material about murder. Do not read if the latter triggers you.

     To start off this meta, I’d like to state the following: I DO NOT believe Dennis murdered anyone prior to Brian LeFevre. I’m going to briefly go over Den’s history in this post though and explain how it eventually boils down to his first kill.

Dennis and Skin:

     As far back as season three, Dennis has shown himself to have a disturbing infatuation with skin, both human and otherwise.

     Psycho Pete Returns, where he threatens to skin Dee and turn her into a lampshade. In the season eleven episodeFrank Falls Out the Window, Dee confronts Dennis on his dream of being a veterinarian, saying that she thinks he only wants to become a vet so that he can "keep the skins." The conversation quickly devolves into a screaming match when she follows this up by telling him that he's going bald, but not before Dennis admits that he is indeed very fascinated by skins.

     One of the earliest references to Dennis's obsession with skin, which I think a lot of people miss, is in the season three episode The Aluminum Monster vs Fatty Magoo. In a brief scene towards the end of the episode, a number of parallels are drawn between Dennis and Buffalo Bill, a serial killer from the movie Silence of the Lambs that wears the skins of his victims.

Both men are naked and applying lipstick in front of a mirror.

Both men are about to dress up as women.

Both men are listening to a song from the 80s about love.

Both men are softly whispering affirmations of self-confidence about how sexually attractive they are.

     Additionally, Buffalo Bill, according to Hannibal Lecter, wants to wear the skin of his victims to become another person. This, along with Dennis's infatuation with human skin, will be very important in Dennis's possible murder of Mr. LeFevre. But before we get to the reasoning behind Dennis's killing fantasies, let's go back to where they may have started..

Gary the Serial Killer:

     Dennis starts out in the beginning of the series as an overly vain womanizer with a frat boy's mentality toward sex. It's only in mid and latter seasons that we are given hints that he may in fact be dangerous. When wondering about the reasons for this, I found myself thinking of a story I heard about a thirteenth century serial killer named Gilles de Rais. De Rais was a French nobleman and the right hand man to Joan of Arc, and by all account a virtuous individual (at least with regards to the way that the gentry viewed virtue in the middle ages). He became one of history's most notorious monsters quite by accident, after a group of con artists masquerading as alchemists convinced him to murder a child while experimenting with necromancy. De Rais discovered from this that he enjoyed killing, and went on to become one of histories earliest recorded serial murderers. If Dennis is the Gilles de Rais of our scenario, then his alchemist would be Dee's former neighbor, Gary.

     We first meet Gary in the season three episode, Mac is a Serial Killer, where the Gang suspects Mac of a series of murders that we later find out were committed by Gary when the Gang discovers "about fifteen severed heads" in his freezer. Though Gary is only around for the one episode, after which he is most likely either in prison or dead after Frank attacks him with the chainsaw, I think that the experience had a very profound effect on Dennis in a number of ways.

     For one, during the episode itself Dennis and Dee try to "get inside the mind" of the serial killer in order to find out who it is and clear Mac's name. They manage to do this by purchasing (stealing) murder weapons, dressing up as a painter and psycho clown, and going out to stalk a victim. In addition to coming up with a surprisingly feasible backstory and methodology for his killer, Dennis becomes extremely excited about the idea of strangling and dismembering the Waitress. He then gets overtly disappointed when Dee says that they can't really kill her.

     We see the episode with Gary referenced most recently in the season eleven episode, Chardee Macdennis 2: Electric Boogaloo, where Dennis sculpts a woman's head in a freezer when prompted to mold something that represents "love." His excuse is that "it represents the preservation of love for ever and ever" (this is important for the section regarding Dennis's psychotic break).

     Some have speculated, based on this last fact, that Dennis may have been the real serial killer all along, and that he framed Gary. Personally I don't think this is likely. The whole misunderstanding with Mac and Gary happened because Dennis pointed out that Mac came home late the previous night, causing Frank to suspect that Mac was the killer based on him being out while the most recent murder was taking place. This means that Dennis was home while the murder was happening because he knew that Mac wasn't. I also find it hard to believe that Dennis could have been so easily dispatched by the Waitress with a can of pepper spray if he'd already killed up to fifteen women.

     More likely, I think, is the idea that Dennis was inspired by Gary. Almost all serial killers start out fantasizing, and when that doesn't do it anymore, they graduate to the real thing. I think Dennis got such a high off the stalk and planning that he and Dee did to fake-kill the Waitress that he kept running with it, crafting more and more elaborate fantasies, such as storing zip ties and plastic wrap in his car, and describing to Mac what they could potentially do with women trapped out on the open ocean. He did this for five seasons until the opportunity arose for him to kill his first real victim: Brian LeFevre.

Brian LeFevre:

     In the season eight episode, Frank's Back in Business, the Gang finds the wallet of a man named Brian LeFevre. After boosting the cash, credit cards, and baseball tickets found inside, Dennis, Mac, and Dee soon find themselves in a luxury box with a pair of business executives that are in town to court Brian LeFevre. Dennis takes this as an opportunity to become Brian LeFevre, posing as him for the rest of the week. Dennis also invited Mac and Dee to "get off" with him by taking part in the charade. Some, as it turns out, were willing to take this farther than others...Dennis describes the experience of "getting off" as the thrill of becoming another person by "getting inside of their skin." The wording of this, "getting inside their skin," recalls to mind Dennis's previously mentioned fetish. Considering this, when we find out at the end that the real Brian LeFevre was murdered right outside Paddy's Pub, it isn't that much of a stretch to suspect that Dennis may have had something to do with it. With this in mind, consider Dennis's reaction to hearing Charlie and Mac recap LeFevre's death.

     As Charlie and Mac are describing the circumstances of the real LeFevre's death, Dennis becomes progressively more and more aroused, finally "climaxing" when they show his severed finger (which Charlie cut off in the morgue). This is very similar to the way in which real serial killers gratify themselves when reliving their crimes (also the reason that many of them take trophies, such as the severed finger). Furthermore, his choice of Dee as a companion reflects what may have been his original fantasy, when the two of them stalked the waitress in Mac is a Serial Killer.

     Now all of this is plausible, but still probably seems like a stretch. However, the show does drop one MASSIVE clue as to Dennis being the real murderer. When describing how the police believe that the murder went down, Charlie says that the real Brian LeFevre was stabbed to death by "a crackhead." Now you may hear this and assume that there's no real mystery to LeFevre's death and that it was a simple mugging. But let's not forget, Dennis is a crack addict. He became addicted to crack all the way back in the season two episode, Dennis and Dee Go On Welfare, and he's had multiple relapses in Frank's Pretty Woman and Frank Falls Out the Window. While I don't necessarily think that Charlie knows or suspects that Dennis killed LeFevre, I do believe that the show is dropping a hint that points in Dennis's direction.

Dennis's Psychotic Break:

     Usually when a serial killer first begins killing, or resumes killing after a period of inactivity, something happens that sets them off; a death in the family, getting fired, getting divorced, something of that nature. In this situation, the event that sets Dennis off is as traumatizing as any of those.

     In the episode Charlie's Mom Has Cancer, which takes place immediately before the one with LeFevre's demise, Dennis is stuck in a sort of melancholy slump. He admits to Mac that he's distressed over his inability to "feel things" emotionally. Over the course of the episode he tries a number of remedies, including attending Mac's church and seeing a holistic healer named Doctor Jynx. Unfortunately none of this works, and Dennis resigns himself to feeling nothing, admitting that the church is running a scam and that Doctor Jynx is a "sorcerer" with the name of a monkey. At the end of the episode, however, in what can only be described as a horrific twist of irony, Dennis does manage to unearth his feelings. This happens when Frank tricks him into digging up his dead mother as a means of getting revenge against Dee for insulting him and stealing his money.

     When the casket lid opens and Barbara's corpse is revealed, Dennis bursts into tears and starts hysterically sobbing, clutching Dee and screaming "I feel too much!" and "my mommy's a skeleton!"

     This would explain Dennis's desire to slip into someone else's skin, as the flood of negative emotions that overwhelmed him upon seeing his mother's dead body made it too painful to be "Dennis Reynolds." The sight of Barbara's body without skin probably also triggered his obsession with human flesh, which ties into his psychotic impulses. This likely brought on some self-loathing, given that his mother is one of the few people that Dennis could be said to love, further contributing to his urge to become someone else. So when he saw LeFevre stumbling around behind Paddy's looking for his wallet, it was too great an opportunity to miss.

Aftermath:

     In the episode immediately after the one featuring Brian LeFevre, Charlie Rules the World, we see some interesting behavior from Dennis. Throughout the episode he expresses frustrations with the Gang's lack of drive to go out and "live life." He wants to experience things on a more visceral level while the others are burying themselves in social media and online video games. He comes off as manic and overly cheerful, in a somewhat aggressive way. He wants to go out dancing, as if celebrating something, and winds up doing shots until he projectile vomits at the table. Later in the episode he spends some time alone in an isolation tank and comes to the conclusion that he's a god, and the episode ends with him deleting everyone else's game characters because they "irritated him." Though not entirely new behavior on Dennis's part, he does seem to take his divinity to a more literal level in this episode, whereas in the past he referred to himself as a "golden god" in more of a metaphorical sense. When viewed in the context of our present theory, that he in fact committed his first murder in the previous episode, Dennis's progressing god complex can be viewed as more than simple narcissism, but as the self-aggrandizing mentality of a budding serial killer.

[thetamelessshrew]

Travel Risk - Allergies

This post is for both those that are at risk of anaphylactic shock and those who have no idea what that means. 

If you have allergies, YOU MUST BRING YOUR EPIPENS WHEN YOU TRAVEL. Notice the plural form. Epipens come in two-packs for a reason, keep them together. Epipens are not a cure. They only last 30 minutes and are only meant to keep you alive long enough to get to the hospital. I know from experience that the second Epipen can save your life. 

Here is an example of one of my own experiences that is relevant for both those with and without allergies. 

Last May, I was in the Paris airport, waiting to get on a plane to visit family in Belgium. It was my last chance to eat something French, so I decided on a macaron. Unfortunately, France is GOD AWFUL at labelling things. They just assume that you know what each thing is and what it contains. I, unthinking and used to the American system, picked a green macaron. My assumption was that the damned thing was mint flavored. Unfortunately, it was pistachio. To those of you who don’t know, America doesn’t flavor many things with pistachio. It isn’t that common. If something is an unnatural shade of green, it is usually mint. 

Now this is where non-allergic people come in. My family in Belgium as well as the people I had to turn to in the airport made fun of me for my mistake. NEVER DO THAT. Not only is it incredibly rude, but the mistake itself is not what is important when someone consumes something they are allergic to. I’m extremely allergic to pistachios, so as soon as I ate the macaron, I started going into anaphylaxis. 

Those of you who don’t know what that is: anaphylaxis is basically your body panicking past the point of reason. Anaphylaxis takes form in many different ways, even for individuals. In this particular case, I was not able to get much oxygen to my brain (did not notice this until later) and I was covered in hives (imagine fire ants all over your body, and you’ll understand). 

The bad thing about anaphylaxis is that you rarely react the way you should, especially if you aren’t breathing as well. I was alone in the airport in a foreign country where I did not know how to call an ambulance or if I would even be able to communicate what was wrong with me. It’s terrifying and it is difficult to accept what you need to do. 

I started out by calling my mom (about 3 in the morning in America). At that point, the reaction wasn’t as bad, so I thought that I would be okay to get on the plane (stupid). My mom wasn’t so happy about it, but she also didn’t know how bad it was. I wound up getting on the plane and sitting in my seat. At that point, it was getting pretty bad. I had spent a good amount of time trying to convince myself that it would all be okay, but sitting in that plane caused me to panic (thank God). It donned on me rather quickly that I was sitting in a metal death trap. 

Tip to people with allergies, don’t let it get that far. Seek medical help as soon as you start having a reaction. 

I got up and plowed my way through the people getting on board with the help of a nice flight attendant who actually took me seriously (a rarity, as you will soon see). By this time, I was balling my eyes out because I was scared shitless. I had enough sense to alert the people at the desk that I need to go to a hospital. 

It was awful. They had no idea what I was talking about. I had to call my dad to talk to them (he speaks French) and even then they went about the whole thing so slowly that I was afraid I would die right there. One of the attendants made me sit down while they tried to figure it all out, which was awful because then I had absolutely no idea what was going on. Thankfully, I had my Epipen. 

I should have taken it much sooner, but at least I took it when I did. Just so you know, they had NO IDEA what an Epipen is. I don’t believe that this is regularly the case, because they do sell Epipens in Europe. My guess is that the airport wasn’t as much in contact with it. Be prepared to explain it if you have a similar issue. I was doing my best to take my Epipen and this woman kept trying to get me to sit down, which I can't do with a needle in my leg. 

Thankfully, I took the Epipen when I did, because the ambulance took 45 minutes to get there. This is why you must always have two Epipens on hand. If my Epipen had worn off and I didn’t have another, I would have died before the ambulance got there (something the French didn’t understand). 

They took me to the medical center in the airport, which was essentially like an ER. I did not receive immediate treatment like I would have in the US (in the United States I have gotten treatment through an IV as soon as I got on the ambulance). Not only did I not get immediate treatment, but they left me alone in the room for a while, with only monitoring systems in case I took a turn for the worse. 

Fortunately, I eventually got the care I needed (from a relatively unconcerned doctor who knew just enough English to get by). I was in the medical center for four hours getting treatment and sleeping it off. Thankfully, they allowed me to reschedule my flight for free. 

There are a few morals to this story: 

Those with allergies: 

-Bring at least two Epipens in your purse or carry-on.

-Seek help as soon as you start reacting. 

-Know how to communicate in their language what is wrong.

-Be really pushy about getting immediate care. Don’t let them lolygag. This is a life and death situation. 

-If you take an Epipen, you have to go to the hospital. This is nonnegotiable. You are essentially taking adrenaline, which doesn’t heal anything. It just keeps you alive long enough to get out a dangerous situation. 

(Don’t use hospital expenses as an excuse not to take your Epipen. That’s honestly stupid and hospital expenses are a lot cheaper in Europe anyways.) 

Those without allergies: 

-Do not shame people for accidentally eating something they are allergic to. Over the course of a life time, a person with allergies is likely to mess up at least once and wind up in anaphylaxis. This is not the time to tease them.

-Take it seriously and don’t waste time. You don’t need to know exactly how it happened, all you need to know is that the person is in a life threatening situation and needs your help. 

-If someone comes to you for help, you are in charge of making sure they are not alone and helping them if they need it, even if it is inconvenient to you. At the very least, stay by them in case they relapse or their reaction gets worse. 

-Encourage the individual to seek care immediately. They will try to talk you and themselves out of it. Don’t let them. 

-Some reactions can lead to the individual being unable to give themselves their own Epipen (for example, they can go unconscious from not being able to breathe). Recognize that this is happening and take action. Read the instructions on their Epipen and do it. Don’t hesitate. 

-Lastly, do not tease them when they are well again. It’s not okay. You don’t know what reoccurring trauma this might cause. What they went through could have killed them. Don’t make them relive it. 

How to use an Epipen: 

-Take the Epipen out of the container. 

-Pull off the gray cap.

-Stick the other end into the person’s thigh (about halfway down) and count to 10. It works through their clothes, so there is no need to strip someone down. 

-Pull out the Epipen and put it needle first back into the container. Keep it with you and give it to the medics to dispose of it properly and so they know how strong the dose was.

-Call an ambulance and stay by the person until they are in the care of medical professionals. 

I hope that you find this post of some use. Remember, that anaphylaxis is not something you mess with. Don’t be afraid to travel because of it, but always remember to bring your Epipens. 

If you have any questions, just let me know!

[gutierrezjosef]

Of Thoughts and Choices on the Matter of Suicide

I purposefully chose the words of the title to get you to read.

If you are reading this, I wish to begin by clarifying that I do not, in any manner, have the slightest intent of implying herewith that which people of the ignorant state call “choose happiness.” No. I will in no way hope to put any man or woman who indulges their eyes and minds to my words and thoughts through the torture of that damaging idea.

Included though, in the list which I hope to accomplish by writing this is to aid those with people close to their hearts who struggle with existential crises to better be acquainted with their position on the matter of life.

And of course, I hope to help those who do struggle, to NOT GIVE UP.

So. We return to “choose happiness.”

Torture?

How is “choose happiness” torture, you ask?

Let me ask you in answer, would anyone you know RATIONALLY choose PAIN? Let me hypothesize as to what your response is is. A NO?

No person in the history of the world will ever choose PAIN. PAIN is something which we all wish to escape. It is something for which we would exhaust all physical energy, emotional abilities and mental faculties to COMPLETELY AVOID.

You have met friends who have remained single in the desperate hope to no longer again have the sensation of being hurt. They choose to be happy.

You are acquainted with people, probably equally so, who seem to be unrelenting in the course of finding true love, despite the pain that they may feel in the process, with a firm belief that the joy which they will find at meeting their eternal companions will make all of that sorrow seem to be utterly insignificant. They choose to be happy.

With that, I present my case in my opening argument that though it may be difficult to understand another’s course of actions, NO ONE ever acts in the pursuit of PAIN. SO PLEASE. STOP WITH ALL THE “CHOOSE HAPPINESS” NONSENSE.

When you tell any individual who is struggling with any form of affliction and you tell them to “choose happiness,” you in turn imply that they themselves are inflicting sorrow, pain and torment upon themselves by not “choosing happiness” and rather, “choosing pain.”

Trust me. I have been through hell with my own thoughts. And people have told me to “choose happiness.” And as well-meaning as they were, they only succeeded in making me feel completely terrible by letting me think that somehow, I was in pain because I chose pain.

To provide somewhat more concrete evidence, I am aware that majority of those who will be reading these are acquainted with at least one person who smokes. You may, after reading what proceeds, confirm with them what I shall write hereafter.

There is no person who smokes with a desire to someday be diagnosed with the diseases which the long-term destructive habit entails with it. In simpler terms, no smoker in history has ever smoked with a desire to have lung cancer or tuberculosis. 

“Then why do they do it if they know that smoking brings along with it such deadly consequences?”

Answer? Because they are familiar with the temporary yet IMMEDIATE sensation of relief and freedom that those 5 minutes can give.

“Yeah, I guess I get that. But don’t they think that the long-term effects are gonna be so not worth it?”

If you were thirsty out of your mind, facing the dread of death from dehydration in the middle of the desert, what would you first look for? Water. See how instantaneous your brain had responded? Are you aware as to why? Simple. You are acquainted with how water is able to relieve you from thirst.

What IF, speaking in HYPOTHETICAL terms (now writing with the knowledge of how some of us can be excessively critical), a scientific discovery was someday made telling the world that WATER contained a dangerous component which poisons the human body eventually leading to death?

Do you imagine that it will be that to stop drinking water would be without difficulty? I would readily accept your answer as to the negative.

BUT WHY NOT JUST STOP DRINKING WATER IF YOU KNOW IT KILLS YOU?

CAUSE IT --TEMPORARILY yet IMMEDIATELY-- RELIEVES YOU OF YOUR THIRST? DO YOU THINK THAT’S WORTH DYING FOR?

Okay. I assume that by this point, I have made it possible for you to understand now the thoughts of those who struggle with Existential Crises. 

Yes. Like a smoker, one who suffers from an existential crisis continues in such thought and behavior because it is ALL THEY KNOW.

But it is NOT, and it NEED NOT BE, ALL THAT THE WILL EVER KNOW.

A smoker CAN quit. We accept this truth. But not without challenge.

Most people, unacquainted as they are with smoking, will say that it’s as simple as “making one choice.” A smoker who has quit, or who has tried to, will tell you otherwise.

True enough, one day, you are awoken to the fact of the destructiveness of the habit. So you CHOOSE to stop. But nothing ends there. It simply starts there.

Days, weeks, months and even years pass, depending on the person, really, and suddenly, you just HATE the smell of smoke. YOU CANNOT STAND IT.

But with those days, weeks, months and years, one thing comes along your ways that puts you off. One thing that ticks you off terribly that you look for sudden and immediate relief. And regardless of whether or not you do light a stick, the thought of smoking crosses your mind. Just as much as one’s mind is hardwired to think of water when they are thirsty.

You can make a choice. You can CHOOSE LIFE. But it will not be easy.

You can be put off by the simplest thing.

You can be holding on to a glass of water and have it slip out of your hand. And one unacquainted with your feelings will simply shrug and clean up the mess, maybe have a laugh or two about it as they do.

But not you. You may have chosen life, but having a glass slip right through your hands can have you think of how you are unable to do even the simplest things, let alone the more complicated tasks which life entails. And then your mind goes right into overdrive, causing you to conceive the idea that you will never be able to do anything right. And you turn to that which you’ve been acquainted to, the thought that it will be so easy to escape from all that. Your thoughts start flooding back.

And like a smoker in an attempt to quit, you relapse.

True enough, like a smoker who knows how destructive the habit can be, you just want the thoughts to stop. Absolutely cease.

YES! SURPRISE SURPRISE FOR ALL OUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND SHRINKS! WE REALLY DO NOT WANT THIS! WE HATE IT! WE HATE THINKING THESE THOUGHTS! WE WANT NOTHING MORE THAN FOR THEM TO STOP!

We know the right thing.

Deep inside, we know the right thing is to stop.

But to actually do the stopping is neither as easy nor as simple as wanting to.

If you are reading this and you are acquainted with one who struggles with these thoughts, this is what they go through.

If you are reading this and you yourself suffer from the destructive nature of your mental faculties, please, don’t hate yourself for your “relapse.” It’s normal. But please know, with simply “wanting to stop,” you are making a lot more progress than you think

But whether it is you or your loved one who suffers an existential crisis, then I pray, be patient.

Take it from a former smoker. You can choose what to do with your thoughts. You can choose to say “no.”

To clarify, I do NOT mean that you can just simply say, “NO. I WILL NO LONGER THINK OF DESTROYING MYSELF. I WILL NOT CHOOSE SADNESS. I WILL NOT CHOOSE PAIN. I CHOOSE HAPPINESS.”

I stand AGAINST that.

BUT.

As a former smoker, one who has not lit a cigarette IN YEARS, I can tell you this: I have been put off, many times through those years. So much so that I have, at times, found myself at convenience stores asking for a pack of Malboro Reds or Lights or Camel Lights. And absentmindedly put a stick between my lips.

Yes.

That’s how badly put off I’ve been.

BUT I HAVE NOT LIT ONE IN YEARS. (Again, for the overly critical, neither have I asked anyone to  light one for me. Okay? :))

You can find yourself walking to the edge sometimes and standing there for a while. Maybe for a couple of hours, for a day, for a week or even for a month. And that’s okay.

“Reallly?  You’re telling them that walking towards the edge and standing there for a while is acceptable?”

You haven’t been through what we’ve been through.

Recognizing the fallacy in the argument in my last statement, I would present a better one. Which would be better: for them to walk to the edge and stand there of a while only to end up walking away OR actually have them jump off?

If you can tell me that you can instantaneously and willingly give up drinking water when you’re thirsty in the event that a scientific discovery is made that it poisons you, come back to me and then tell me that walking to the edge and standing there is not okay.

So let’s get back on track.

You can find yourself walking to the edge sometimes and standing there for what seems to be forever. And that’s okay.

But choose not to jump.

Choose to walk away.

You may not always be in control of what your thoughts are, but you can choose what to do with them.

You may not be able to just choose to stop the pain.

But please. Choose to NOT GIVE UP.

Sabi pa nga ng kaibigan ko, “okay lang mapagod. Wag ka lang susuko, okay?”

(Like my friend says, “it’s okay to be exhausted. Just don’t give up, okay?”)

You may not be able to just choose happiness.

But please. Make the right choice.

DO. NOT. GIVE. UP.

And if you know someone who is thinking of giving up, then please.

DO. NOT. GIVE. UP. ON. THEM.

No matter how many “relapses” may come.

No matter how many times you find yourself walking to the edge and standing there, choose to walk away.

Do not give up on yourself. Or on the person you love.