#this is just how most people treat me. im either pathetic or getting hit on more than i clock

[raincamp]

7 - 27 - 23

today has been... a lot. i have a lot to talk about because it really just keeps snowballing, ive had the worst fucking BPD episode today

so i wrote this this morning, expecting to get to actually have a session with my therapist today, since yk, i did finally make an appointment with her referral (for context if you didn't read my last posts, she basically said: no appts until i start addiction counseling bc she can't treat addiction) //

"i've been having the worst and most painful fucking week of my life only for everything to be entirely made up by my imagination, oh how i fucking hate paranoid ideation

as i'm writing this i have about an hour before my therapy appointment— which i was one hundred and ten percent sure was going to be rescheduled, and that i was going to be terminated, because apparently my therapist doesn't like me— and i'm having so many urges to like, hurt myself, or do something to prove that I've been in pain this week because now that i've realized it was all just paraoia my pain no longer feels valid, or justifiable, or even real because of my emotional impermanence making it literally impossible for me to relive the emotions i was experiencing even 5 hours ago.

im partly glad that i only blew up at her once, i think i would be so much more embarrassed had i not. not to say that im not entirely ashamed of my entire reaction to something as small as this, but i also feel like she would've been able to understand how much I've been struggling this week if i had. and since I can't wholly remember how it felt, if it exists in somebody else then it makes it more real. idk. i just want my pain to be validated by her so much."

i was fully ready for her to text me today and be like "oh chill you made an appt see you in an hour" but what i got instead was radio silence. so i checked my appointment portal only to see our standing appointments for the next 3 weeks cancelled.

believe me when i say, my heart fucking dropped, i mean like, it was on the fucking floor, i was hit so hard i couldnt breathe for several minutes.

so, yk, i text her begging for an appointment like the pathetic emotional parasite that i am, and all i get in response is a "we can reschedule once you've attended your intake appointment" so i was like, welp, that sucks bc my intake is next week on a Thursday, so now i have to go two weeks without therapy. absolutely triggered the fuck out of me, i was crying, SOBBING on my floor, it just hurt so fucking much. i felt like i was being ripped apart and sewn crudely back together again, over and over again, everytime i calmed down enough to breathe it would start over again, wave after wave of sadness and shame and abandonment and rage and grief and desperation. i just wanted to stop feeling so much PAIN.

and yk what i did, instead of hurting myself like i nornally would, i texted my therapist like i've been taught to in DBT. she's SUPPOSED to be there to help me when i need it. thats literally in her contract.

mid-sob i typed out a message that was more akin to me begging her to pull me out of a sea of misery and perform CPR on me than professionally asking for help, but i genuinely didnt know what to do, and i STILL don't, because distress tolerance only goes so far, ive been feeling like this, constantly, since our last session.

and she just responded with reminding me that she set the boundary a week ago and we talked about a referral 11 days ago, but she was available for an appointment in two weeks (meaning ANOTHER week without therapy, total: 3) . completely ignoring my plea for help. it felt like she was telling me "hey just a reminder, this is entirely a consequence of your own actions. have fun dealing with it yourself!!"

i have fucking BPD, the only way i KNOW how to deal with anything is by hurting either myself or the people around me. and im THIS close to self destructing and quitting therapy altogether.

i am so fucking pissed at her, idk how she can expect me to survive three weeks without stable treatment. especially after i was hospitalized last month for a suicide attempt?? she knows how much im suffering right now. is keeping a boundary really so important that she can't even help me when im hurting this much?

all i want right now is to scream at her, and im definitely going to, at the very least, be as much of an arse as i can over text, idk, i feel like i deserve to let myself be angry at her. its definitely justified, despite what i said before. theres clear evidence now that I wasn't being paranoid.

i just feel so abandoned by her, physically and emotionally, i feel like i have nobody, i feel like im back to where i was before i started treatment. its so frustrating, and painful. and the fact that this is due to an addiction that i dont have any control over is making me feel even worse.

im trying to figure out why she's doing this, like, she's shown shes competent, i genuinely cant understand how doing this is supposed to help me. how is putting me through this much pain going to help? its making me so unstable. and ik im going to relapse again at some point before i get to see her again.

im trying not to think about it anymore, because everytime i do i start crying again. its to the point where i have a killer headache and my eyes hurt so much from the amount of tears ive spilled.

i fucking hate this disorder so much. nobody but me would be this attached to their therapist. normal people would be able to cope with someone setting boundaries easily. this shouldnt be causing me to feel this way. its not fair. im so exhausted from having to hurt so much all the time, at this point its chronic, its become background noise, its my idle state, and im enraged about it.

i hope good omens season 2 lives up to my expectations.

- andrew

#tumblr diary #journal #tumblr journal #vent #bpd vent #therapy #mental health #bpd #borderline #actually bpd #im not mentally stable #actually mentally ill #borderline personality disorder #mental illness

[glassartpeasants]

If you don't make a happy ending for couldn't care less you better keep bob with you at all times

HOW DARE YOU THREATEN BOB YOU KNOW WHAT-

Couldn’t Care Less .2

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, abuse, gore

~~~

“i hope that blue haired fuck got what he wanted. I hope that handyman freak dies alone.” You say to yourself as you walk down the alleys way of Musutafu. The smell of the dingey and moldy alleyways flood your nose as the laughter of happy couples ring in your ears. 

How come they got they’re happily ever after but you didn’t? It wasn’t fair. You did everything you could to be there for him. Yet he still treats you like shit, all because you cared about him? And then he thinks your cheating all cause you ask a male friend for advice! What an insecure asshole.

A vibrating in your pocket brought you back to reality as you realize your phone was ringing. Letting out a sigh you answer,

“Hello?”

“Come pick up your shit.” Oh, you thought you blocked this fuck.

“Keep it asshole. I don’t want anything that smells like ‘lonely bastard who only gets action from his hand’  on my clothes.  Burn it, decay it, I couldn’t give a shit less.”

“God you were always so dramatic. And there’s no reason to be a cunt.”

“And there was no reason for you to be an insecure dick. You either block my number or im calling the police and ratting on you.” A silence fell over the phone. Nothing was said until you finally spoke up.

“Jeez your pathetic. I’ll do it myself.” He was about to say something, insult your most likely before you hung up the phone and blocked him not seconds later.

“Now he’s outta my hair. I can finally feel some sort of calm.”

~~~

3 weeks later

After a day of coming back to your musty apartment you decided it needed a little bit of cleaning, considering you haven’t been their in about 4 months. You paid up front all the time even when you weren’t living in it. Just in case ya know?

You swept up the floors, vacuumed the carpet AND shampooed it.Cleaned the tub, shower and sinks, cleaned out your empty refrigerator, washed all you sheets and what clothes you left there. It wasn’t much so you knew you had to get some more before anything else. That and groceries.

 After all that was said and done, you sat down on the couch and just relaxed. Well you tired, that was before Shigaraki popped into your head again. It wasn’t a sort of loving way, it was a hatred sort of. The thought of his stupid face made you just want to punch a wall, pretending to be his face.

But you ignored it as you turned on the Tv, hoping that would get your mind off him. Nothing interesting except the news. Always talking about violence and war. Same old thing over and over. Blood, death, tragedy.

“This world is a cruel unjust place. The only way it seems to be recognized in this world is death or doing horrible things. Nothing good every comes to fruition.��� You grumble before walking to your room and plopping down on the nice clean and still warm sheets. The nice smell of lavender slowly dragging you to sleep.

~~~

A loud bang hit your door which ripped you from your slumber. You were questioning on checking it out before you heard something that made your heart stop,

“If there’s anyone in the house kill them, we can’t have people knowing we ransacked this place.” You slowly get off your bed before moving slowly and quietly to your window. Your push your fingers on the glass and you gently push it up. Grabbing at the sides of the window you pull yourself out of it, not before hearing a gunshot and a burning pain inside your calf.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” You could hear them from inside the house.

“Did they see you?!” You fell from your window onto the ground. Thankfully your apartment was on the first floor so it wasn’t a high drop.

“Not that i know of! I did shot them in the leg so they shouldn’t have gotten far!” You try your hardest as you run towards the main street. Cutting through alleyways, going as fast as you can as you hear they’re footsteps behind you. Looking up closely you see a hero, knowing he was your only chance you scream for help.

“Help me please!” The hero’s head turned towards you and ran towards you. You guess the robbers heard your cry for help because they’re footsteps seemed to be heading back your probably trashed apartment.

“Oh my! What happened?!” The sound of the hero’s concerned voice calmed you down a bit. 

“Some people tried to rob my place and i tried to get out of there silently but they must have came into my room and saw me leaving and shot me in the calf!” You wince as putting pressure on the wound burned hotter than hell.

“Don’t worry! I’ll get you to the hospital in no time!” You felt relieved before hearing a crunching sound, you looked to your left and see a familiar patch of blue hair in your peripheral vision. You ignored him before getting picked up by the hero and was carried to the hospital. The blood loss from your calf slowly dragged you into unconsciousness.

~~~

After waking up you notice the white room you were in. It was pristine to the touch and smelled of lemon cleaning products. The bright lights hallways peered inside your room from the crack of your door.

Looking around the small feeling of pain crept back into your leg except not as painful anymore. Pulling back the covers you notice bandages and a small bit of blood that stained through the bandages around your wound.

“Ah fuck that’s gonna scar. It’s gonna be a pain to heal too.” You say to yourself as you pull back the blankets and wrap yourself up in them. 

Right as you were falling back asleep the ringing of your cellphone brought you out. Grumbling in annoyance you grab it and look at the caller id. It was a number you didn’t recognize so you just let it ring thinking it’ll be the end of it. That was until it started ringing again. You sighed in frustration and picked up the phone, not wanting it to ring longer since it was in the dead of night at the hospital and you wanted people to be able to sleep.

“What the hell do you want? It’s the middle of the night.” You annoyed voice rang into the other side of the phone.

“Why tf were you talking to a hero? Did you fucking break your end of the bargain?” You were confused at first. You definitely knew the voice behind the phone. Then you remembered earlier that day when you saw him in the shadows.

“I was literally shot. You think im not gonna ask someone for help?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“I don’t believe you. You always were a two faced bitch.”

“Oh jesus fuck, thanks for the insult. Glad to know what you always thought about me.”

“I’m going to kill you you backstabbing bitch.”

“Love ya too. goodnight and goodbye Shigaraki.” You hung up and blocked said number. You weren’t going to lie, hearing him spill such an insult and threat hurt you and made you very weary and afraid if he would actually go through with it or if he was just saying that to scare you.

You knew what those hands could do and you knew how painful that death would have been. You were hurt more than you liked to admit, at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t aggressive or mean at all towards you.  He’d try to get you flowers or your favorite type of drink. He called you pet names that would make your heart flutter and beat, you don’t know what you did wrong for him to change so suddenly. It was like on day he flipped a switch, and you never knew why.

You tried recalling the day where it started and remembered that everyone was annoyed or being rude to Dabi, you didn’t know why and when you asked Spinner or anyone else they just said it was national, be a bitch to Dabi day. You laughed and shrugged it off ignoring it before walking up to your boyfriend giving him a kiss on the lips, only to be pushed into the wall and ignored. You just looked at him in shocked and it had only spiraled down from there to where you are now. 

Something had to be wrong. You knew it, Dabi had to have something to do with Shigaraki’s switch in behavior. You looked around the room for any camera and when you noticed that there were none, you called up the burnt male himself. He surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? I haven’t heard from you in 3 weeks. Or was it four? Doesn’t matter, where have you been?”

“Dabi, i need you to be honest with me, did you say something to Shigaraki?”

“Huh?”

“Dabi, five months ago Shigaraki flipped a switch and went from a caring boyfriend to an actually nightmare. I need to know if you or anyone else said something to him.” Dabi was quiet on the other line before sighing,

“About that time range i made a joke about sleeping with you, everyone knew it was a joke but apparently Shigaraki didn’t. I didn’t think he’d treat you like he did. Im sorry.” You fell silent. All this shit treatment because Shigaraki couldn’t a joke. Sure it pissed you off that Dabi made such a stupid joke but you were more mad at Shigaraki that he just treated you like shit instead of asking you and confronting you about it.

“Thank you for telling me. Do you know where Shigaraki is now?”

“He left about an hour ago, why?” Shit. You knew this was the only hospital close to your place and Shigaraki knew that too. You got up from your bed and locked the door before going back into your bed, watching the crack under your door incase the light was blocked.

“Dabi, I just want you to know that i forgive you.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about-” Your phone went silent as the battery died.

‘Shit shit shit shit!’ you thought to yourself as you beg for the phone to turn back on. But you fell silent as the light from the outside of your room was blocked.

“(Y/N), I know you're in there, open the fucking door before i decay it down.” You said nothing in fear. You were glued to your bed as you faced the door.

But that fear was nothing compared to seeing him actually decay the door.

“You stupid snitch. i should make your death as painful as possible.” he said as soon as he stepped inside your hospital room. 

“Shigaraki, I didn’t snitch I promise. Why don’t you believe me!” You say as you get off your bed and try to get as far away from him as possible. The pain of the bullet would making you wince.

“Why would I believe a cheating bitch like you?” Before you could speak a four fingered grip wrapped itself around your throat. Shigaraki was always fast, you should have known that you were gonna die even if you tried your hardest.

“I didn’t cheat on you!” You try to pry yourself from shigaraki’s grip.

“Dabi says otherwise.”

“Are you really going to believe him?! You didn’t even talk to me or ask me about it! Just went straight to believing him!” The grip on your neck got tighter.

“then why was they’re a hickey on your collarbone?!”

“You gave it to me! It was fading out!”

“That doesn’t change the fact you snitched!” His pinkie was grazing closer to your skin.

“I never snitched, I was robbed and then they shot me. If you went to my apartment you would see i was right.” He said nothing just staring at you with cold dead eyes. 

“Look! I have bandages wrapped around my calf!” Shigaraki looked down before saying something back.

“It was something the hero’s did so they could protect you in this shit hospital.” I was at that moment you knew, nothing you said would change his mind. You shed not a tear while looking him in the eyes

“I wish I never met you. Fuck you Tomura Shigaraki, I hope you die alone and I’ll see you in hell.” You move your head so his last and final finger touched your skin.

The pain of your skin decaying and falling off was much more painful than you thought it would be. You can remember screaming in pain but, it felt more of a emotional scream rather than one of physical pain. but it seems you weren’t the only one screaming.

The sounds of Shigaraki wailing and screaming your name reached your ears before all you heard was silence and saw nothing.

Shigaraki scrambled to try and grab you and even put you together, but your bloody ashes stuck to his hand. Remains of your existence covered his clothes as he screamed in pain. 

“No no no no! Wait please! I didn’t mean it!” He cried as his tears fell onto your ashes, the tears collecting the ashes and forming a grey tear drop. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he’s sorry! He didn’t want to kill you! 

Bile rose from his throat as he puked all over the ground, inches away from your ashes. He grabbed your ashes trying to pick them up to hold what was left of you. But all he got was the remains of your smeared all over his hoodie. He shook violently as  memories of you guys replayed in his mind, your happy face and the way you use to love him and care for him.

But now, you were nothing more than ashes on his sleeve, reminding him that he was now truly alone.

#tomura shigaraki #mha #bnha #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #mha tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #never threaten bob again anon :)

[foolgobi65]

Mahabharata (any characters or pairing) + college au + meet messy + “alexa, play wonderwall.” (at this point im just picking things at random lol)

play wonderwall : you’ll see lol  basically used this as an excuse to write a version of the scene u and i both acknowledge as our favorite. the single most iconic scene in the entire epic, bar none. for our sake, i really hope that you like it!! also the “meet messy” is basically random people in the crowd meeting this trainwreck of a family in all of its glory. also i think rhea’s modern au krishna goes by shyam yadav??? i tried to use a different first name at least but none of them sounded as nice so i gave up lol sorry rhea. 

--

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

It seems like the entire university is gathered on the front lawn to watch the swearing-in ceremony of new Union President Dharamraj Kuru after what many reported to be the nastiest student election season perhaps ever seen. Jarasandha Magadh, after years of refusing to graduate, had at the last minute been put in the hospital and, apparently, sustained injuries so extensive that it had effectively argued that his already completed coursework should be all that was counted when factoring in his final mark. 

“Especially given said student’s...extensive history...with this institution,” Shyam had apparently said when arguing Jarasandha’s case to University Administration, Jarasandha himself completely unaware and apparently furious when he was brought out of his medically induced coma. 

Jarasandha’s party’s hastily promoted candidate Sahadeva was wildly acknowledged to be weak, young, and meant to be nothing more than a rubber stamp on business as usual. Dharamraj, whose upstart campaign effectively communicated how poorly “business as usual” had treated the student body, was suddenly flooded with factions of students seeking an alliance so that their respective organizations might be allocated larger portions of the budget everyone assumed Dharamraj would soon control. 

Everyone was right. Dharamraj won in a landslide, and now here everybody is, watching him deliver his maiden speech as their new President. 

“Shisupal,” Dharamraj sighs, “what exactly is your problem?” 

“My problem,” Shisupal shrieks, walking up to the dais from where Dharamraj stands, surrounded by his friends, family, and his girlfriend Yagna. “You’re asking me what my problem is, Brother?” 

“Brother?” someone in the crowd asks, too low to be heard at the front. 

“I think they’re related on their mother’s side,” someone else responds. “Both their mothers are sisters, but Pritha was adopted out to a friend of her father so was never close to her biological siblings.” 

“Jesus,” another laughs, “are they all just cousins?” 

A wide assortment of Kurus stand on stage, jubilant after so many years of them trying and failing to win elections at the university their fathers had once ruled. Yagna, from a prominent family herself, at Dharamraj’s side. Shyam Yadav, whose sister Subhadra is in love with Dhananjaya and whose father was like a brother to Pritha when she was lonely in Kuntibhoj and Vasudev not imprisoned with his wife. 

Yes, they really are all just cousins. 

Vrikodara steps in front of Dharamraj, arms crossed and looming nearly half a metre taller than Shishupal. Yet, Shishupal is not cowed -- though many men more intelligent than he would have been. 

“I’m not afraid of you, asshole. Everyone knows you’re just the gun in Dharamraj’s hand, and your brother is a pacifist. You won’t touch me.” 

“You would be surprised,” Dharamraj says mildly, smiling slightly as the crowd laughs at the thought of violence from the slightly frail Dharma, always seen in the library or sitting under the tree outside it, smoking cigarettes as he argues with professors twice his age about obscure legalities and wins. 

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Shishupal spits, “you’re too much of a coward to hit a person when they know it’s coming. That’s why you’re just stabbing us in the back, selling us out on the first day when we put our reputations on the line to back you for President.” 

“Shisupal!” Vrikodara roars, Dhananjaya striding to stand next to him, Suyodhana and Radheya on either flank despite what is rumored to be their own tensions with Pandu’s sons. The family is closing ranks at this attack from one their own, it seems, but then what is University politics if not a way for people to find some entertainment from other people’s drama. 

“What,” Shishupal retorts, “you expect us all to shut up while you commit to sinking half of the budget into that wastrel’s pathetic fund? You plan on just giving our money away to anyone who spins a sad life story and begs for cash?” 

Well, University politics is about this too -- the eternal question of which students should be helped, and how much. The fund in question is the brainchild of Shyam, a way for individuals to apply for rapid monetary relief in response to uncontrollable circumstances, and be granted what they need with almost no questions asked. 

“Shisupal,” Dhananjaya steps forward, sensitive as always when his best (and only) friend’s name is brought up. “We’ve let you get away with more than we should because you happen to be our mother’s nephew. If you continue to embarrass us in public it won’t end well.” Shishupal laughs. “For you or for me? As far as I can see, you’ve all been duped by that street-trash pretending to be Vasudev Yadav’s son.” 

Dhananjaya glares. “Uncle Vasudev is more our mother’s brother than your mother is her sister. Slander his name at your own risk.” Again, Shishupal refuses to cower despite what the crowd acknowledges as fierce odds -- Dhananjaya doesn’t actually attend the University, only visits frequently from the Indian Air Force Academy to spend time with Shyam, and his brothers sometimes as well. The man is licensed to shoot a gun, for god’s sake, but Shishupal continues to stand firm. 

“Even now, you’re all standing in front of him,” Shishupal taunts, “Dancing to his tune and protecting his reputation when you know as well as I where he came from. He didn’t even speak English until he left that shithole after killing his own uncle, and you idiots are planning to sink my money into his scheme? Not on my watch.” 

“No,” a voice comes from the back of the group on the dais, “there’s no need to make that face. I can fight my own battles, Dhananjaya. Especially against an absolute clown, like Shishupal.”  

“A clown,” Shishupal shouts, “you’re calling me a clown?” 

Shyam rolls his eyes, having pushed his way to the front. Behind him Vrikodara is grinding his teeth, Dhananjaya’s fingers hovering at his own waist as if wishing for a gun. 

“Well I could have called you a motherfucker,” Shyam shrugs, “but I’m quite fond of your mother. In fact, she was the one who’s begged me to forgive you every time you’ve done something like this.” 

Shishupal snarls. “My mother doesn’t beg, street-trash, and she certainly wouldn’t lower herself to beg from you. People like you are only demanded from.” 

Shyam shrugs again. “Suit yourself. But consider this your last warning -- say another word, and I won’t let you go like I did before.” 

“Before? Before?” For some reason, Shyam’s threat has only made Shishupal angrier, face turning purple where it was red. “Before, as in that time last year, when you stole my wife from the wedding hall at gunpoint. Is that what you mean by before?” 

The crowd goes still at the reminder of the biggest controversy to rock their collective social circle. 

Shyam raises an eyebrow. “The whole point of that was that she wasn’t your wife when we left.” His lip curls in a sneer of his own, eyes suddenly cold. “You were treating her so poorly that she asked what to her was a complete stranger to kidnap her on her wedding day. I wouldn’t talk so loudly about before.” 

Nearly a year ago, Shishupal was to be married to Rukmini Bhoja after years of forcing her to stand attendance at his side during all campus events, despite her not actually being enrolled as a student. Both of their families were rich, well connected, and sought increased prestige through connection with the other. It was, people remarked, on paper the perfect match. 

Of course, Rukmini was intelligent, witty, kind, and one of the most beautiful women most people had ever seen. Shishupal passed classes off of sheer intimidation, threw rocks at the college cats, and supplemented these qualities with his insistence on growing a patchy, horrible, beard and kept his oily, stringy hair long. Worse, there were rumors that Shishupal was even meaner drunk than he was sober, and that once Rukmini had been seen walking away from him clutching her arm and had returned with a scarf wrapped around her shoulders to cover where otherwise might have been a visible pattern of bruises. 

The wedding, everyone had agreed, was to be a tragedy, and would only serve to make Shishupal even more insufferable. When the nightly news had aired the extraordinary report of a young woman staging her own kidnapping, apparently begging one of the groom’s family connections to attend her wedding and hold a gun to her head as they walked out, it was widely agreed to be answer to their prayers, and above all a job very well done by the erstwhile bride to be. When it was revealed that the “kidnapper” was Shyam, well, that just made the whole thing even funnier. 

When classes restarted, Shishupal prowled with a whole new look -- clean-shaven, and short hair. Rukmini Bhoja was noticeably absent from campus events, but a few months in Shyam had been seen getting off the bus at the station near campus and kissing someone who looked just like Rukmini goodbye. 

It seems the rumors about that last bit had found Shishupal too. “Stranger,” he scoffs. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?” 

Shyam’s entire body, always loose, always slightly in motion, goes completely stiff. More than Dhananjaya, more than Vrikodara, it is Shyam who now suddenly looks like an apex predator. The crowd, not even the one facing Shyam directly, finds itself taking a step back. 

“What exactly is it that we’re calling,” Shyam asks softly -- sound only heard because it’s being picked up by the microphone on the podium awaiting the rest of Dharamraj’s long-forgotten speech. 

Shishupal rolls his eyes, sneering. “I’m glad that bitch made such a spectacle of herself when calling off the wedding. I wouldn’t have wanted to marry a whore, you know. Why take seven rounds to get something she sells, no?” He smirks, as the entire group on the dais -- the whole horrible writhing mass of Kurus and their assorted friends and family -- advance as one. “Or, I guess she was the one who was buying,” Shishupal laughs, looking at Shyam who appears to be frozen in place, his face a perfect picture of overwhelming rage. “She paid you to take her, didn’t she? Poor bitch didn’t even think you’d fuck her for fr--” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

Shishupal’s eyes immediately roll up into his skull, as a result of Shyam Yadav’s fist colliding with Shishupal’s jaw. No one bothers to catch the body. 

Silence reigns for entire minutes as everyone watches Shishupal, crumpled on the ground. Watches Shyam Yadav, standing over him wild-eyed, with his right hand still in a fist.

“Oh Alexa,” a gentle female voice calls out from the crowd. Everyone turns to stare, open-mouthed, at Rukmini Bhoja standing in the front row, absolutely grinning at this turn of events. She gazes back at them, turning towards Shyam again and laughs. “Alexa this is so sad. Play ‘Mmm Whatcha Say.” 

#ok i will say that the idea of rukmini basically organizing her own kidnapping/hit job where she hires krishna to attend and kidnap her at g #thats chefs kiss to me #i cant believe i never thought of that before its t ha t funny #mahabharata #also the mm watcha say gag was too good to not include when he gets clocked the fuck out at the end sorry lol #also i decided to make vasudev only brother-like for kunti #so that subhadra/krishna arent arjuna's cousins lol #also she seems even in canon to be closer to vasudev than her other siblings so we're rolling with it #anyways i hope u like it!!!! #these are all being churned out like stream of consciousness and then i hit publish lol so i have no idea if theyre any good at all #but thank u for the opportunity to put a version of this down on paper #maya writes #avani008 #also lol i used none of their traditional names because i thought it would be funnier to give them all long pretentious names that flowed ni #*nice

[alicezan-ncgred]

Bleeding Red

Preface: I’ve been bitching around the bush of this long enough. So, I’ve been really silent on a bunch of stuff that’s been eating me alive which has made me both inactive and unproductive. I’m going to get straight to the point, starting off with the TL:DR from my post on my main blog. Context: An anon asked me if I was alright because I hadn’t updated in a while.

TL:DR You probably didn’t ask this to hear about all the bad shit of my life so here’s the short of it. No, I’m not doing fine. I will try get next weeks post out on time and I’ll work on making up on the lost posts. Updates will return regularly, ‘ite.

Time for the thick and thin of it.

Insecurity and being shafted: I’m stoic, even at my worst I won’t say anything. I’ll push through regardless of my current condition and since I’ve gone years like this, it’s not hard for me to do. In my real life situation, I’m currently in a place of social isolation. This has lead to a somewhat near reliance on Tumblr to be my social outlet. This present many issues.

The main one is that I’m quite the isolationist. This has only been reinforced by many interactions throughout the entirely of my life. Because of this, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything really more than two friends at a time. While in a way this has helped me express myself so well through writing, it’s come at the cost of social skill. I don’t talk to anyone.

With this kind of issue you could easily imagine that the THREE PEOPLE (four now, but very limited) to ever directly talk ended up in a way shafting me. The first blocked and disconnected with me without warning or reason. At this point we’ve been talking to each for about a month and we hit it off very well and then one day, silence. Never heard from them again. That fucked me up hard when I finally realized what happened.

The second person left during the Tumblr P**n Purge. We were talking about how to contact each other on other platforms and then they stopped responding. I had already given contact to other platforms of which they pinged me in any way. Another person that I trusted massively on here just abandoned me and I’m still hurting from that. Wasn’t fair at all.

Then the third person was someone that I been following for a while. This person is actually the reason that I’ve been putting this off for so long. I don’t want them to see this post but they will. I got an ask from them that ultimately turned out to be misinformation. I said I wasn’t mad but I was. I was so fucking angry about it and I’m still kinda mad, but I didn’t want problems. I still don’t. I just didn’t want them to worry about it. This will come back later.

I try my best to be as inoffensive as possible. The problem with that is that much of the things I believe or enjoy are highly divisive. Hell, even my own identity can be seen as offence. I’m bisexual, non-binary (I’m currently still questioning this. I might actually be gender fluid but in the overall scheme, that’s worse than being non-binary), and nonreligious. I’m in a very religious area so you I’m still “in the closet” about much of this IRL. I though it would better online but with how much people are saying bisexuality doesn’t exist, or that non-binary isn’t a valid gender (or that being gender fluid make you insane and you should be locked up) and all the hate people who say they are this are getting, the very community that’s supposed to accept me, HATES me. I had a bi pride flag icon last year during Pride Month. I never doing that ever again. It was terrible.

I’m trying my best to come out of my shell like I said I would when I made this blog but it seems I’m just crawling further into it. People I think I can trust keep setting me up to fall, people I know in real life won’t ever accept my existence if they knew who I really was, and my own mental health problem and self loathing are eating me alive. But that isn’t the total of it.

Crumbling Pillar: I’ve always ended up in the position where things were thrown onto me. In which no one wanted to do, I was stuck with. Because of this not only do I have a severe distaste being around my family (beyond everything mentioned before hand) but I grew to have a negative out look on everything. This effect is still quite obvious in my writings, especially my poems. Out of the 14 poems on my poem blog @washed-soul​, only one has a happy meaning.

The one happy poem was called dreams. Under a metaphor it talks about how a demon kept me trapped in a dark space. I start to get better and nearly break free before I have a negative relapse back to my old ways. The poems ends with the demon putting a end to itself leaving the nightmare in which it was keeping me in to slowly fade away, letting one crack of light peeking through to become a window to a door until one day I walk free. When writing this poem, I never thought I would find myself rebuilding the nightmare but that’s where I am.

I’m done with holding things together that other people have placed onto me. Because of this, issues have began showing in my private life. Issues that should’ve been solved decades ago are only now being addressed. This change in the status quo of my life has caused many issues in my productive and mood. Between everything else I’m too tired to do anything.

Is that a reason, is that an excuse. No it isn’t but it’s the best thing I got as a reason. I’m doing my damnedest to do the best I can but of course, when it comes to the thing that matter I just fall short. Big fucking whopha my intelligence and capability does me if I can’t use it for anything that means a damn.

Meaningless Triviality: I’m a very emotional person. I’m very strongly bound to my emotions and if everything above hasn’t given it away, my emotions are very negative prone. But it just doesn’t stop there, it goes back into my memories. I can only honestly place 3 happy memories for certain that aren’t either A) a dream or B) me escaping reality through my mind. Besides that, almost all my memories are negative. 

People like to throw around the word Nihilist to describe themselves because today's culture is very, god while I hate to use this word, edgy. For those who don’t know a Nihilist is someone who views the world as being completely  meaningless and reject all religious and moral principles. I very truly struggle with this outlook of life. It’s a daily for me to berate myself saying “just kill yourself” or “I want to die” or just shutting down and crumpling up while say “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over again. Hell, I did that while writing this. 

I take things very hard, even the slightest transgression. I’m so used to trying to make things perfect and because people have the image that I’m the smart one, the mature one, the capable one, I’m left with the over hanging expectation of excellence. Almost no room for margin of error or being human. Since I’m the silent type, I put up no challenge and work to meet it. Only time I get any praise for anything too. 

I guess as a little self promotion to my main blog, for those that have read the very first few updates of my main blog @the-truth-behind-redacted, or read Defiance’s character sheet, while The Machine and Defiance are separate character, they both share the name Machine. That in part is a reflect of said above expectation. How ravenous and inhuman it can be all under the guise of something human. Those characters are the two sides to the same coin. 

Remember how I said I try to be un-problematical and how I try to avoid any potential conflict. In the first segment I told on how I lied about my feelings just so another person didn’t have to worry over something that honestly, in hindsight, wasn’t even really a big deal. But I also said how it consumed me in anger. I just don’t want to bother anyone over anything. It’s part of the reason why I am writing this post, as some way of a self enforced rehab program to get better. 

This absolute consumption of negative emotion has pushed me into a non human state before. I hit a point of absolute mental exhaustion and in such a self enforced bubble of actual hatred I became completely apathetic. I felt numb to everything. I watched and heard of terrible things happening to people, and felt nothing. I watched people lives crumble before them leaving them nowhere to go and LAUGHED. “Just another worthless pathetic worm on this rotting carcass of a planet being hit with the hard reality that life doesn’t care for them. What whimsical pathetic bullshit they deluded themselves with to think otherwise.” This isn’t an exaggeration on how I thought, this is what I actually thought. Which brings me too.

The Mandatory Sob Story: Roll your eyes everyone and get the tiny violin. I guess in order for everyone to exactly understand the place I’m coming from when it comes to mental health I’ll have to detail my experiences. I have a long standing history with mental illness. I have professionally diagnosed OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, and visual and auditory hallucinations. I take 600 mg of Seroquel a day as well as Amitriptyline when needed. I’m also still currently in therapy to deal with said OCD, Bipolarism, Anxiety, Chronic Depression, the visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as Suicidal thoughts, and my Nihilism. There’s a reason to why I’m so god damn familiar with mental illness and treatment plans.  

OCD and Bipolarism run in my family on my fathers side. My Father’s Father had them, my Sister has them, my brother most likely has them (however he refuses to see a doctor because he uses said possible mental illnesses as a get out of jail free card. He doesn’t want to be treated and he has FUCKING ADMITTED IT), my father has them, and I have them. I, however, have the misfortune of having it real bad. I said yes to well over half of all the total symptoms when I was being tested (I don’t remember exact numbers but I remember there being three pages worth of common symptoms) which was very worrying to the doctor. I was currently in an inpatient hospitalization program at the time for both suicidal thoughts and actions, and severe depression. 

On that, my graze in with suicide. Before I went into my first inpatient program I was contemplating suicide. I was sat in front of a mirror with a bottle of over the counter medication. It was an unopened bottle of ibuprofen, 1000 200mg tables. What I planed to do was down the whole bottle with benadryl and die in my sleep. I had the small box of benadryl got from the Kroger pharmacy and a hand full of ibuprofen poured out looking directly into the mirror. My suicide note was sitting on the desk on my room with an online copy on my laptop open.

I sat there for an hour in the dead of midnight complicating my life. I had lost all hope in the world, filled with hatred, anger, pain, and despair. I had no god or after life to look forward too, part way hoping that a Hell existed for me to burn in. I hated myself that much. I was close to taking the first handful before before I caught a glimpse of my own eyes in the mirror. In what was in a weird sudden epiphany I realized that I truly did become what I hated but not for any reason I told myself. I became the very bastion of negativity I sought to fight and rid of in what little friends I did have. That was what set off my path to recovery in spite of the medical system. I guess if people care I’ll make a separate post on that. 

Before I move on, I feel I should explain my history with the visual and auditory hallucinations. It should be no surprise that with everything else above, I also had extreme paranoia that led to me having very bad insomnia. Insomnia is, just like most other medical disorders like Depression, Self-harm, Anxiety, OCD,  Bipolarism, is romanticized to hell. Insomnia isn’t having one nights bad sleep where you got 5 hours of sleep instead of 8.

You know what Insomnia is? insomnia is being physical incapable of sleeping despite not sleeping in 2 to 3 day while your body suffers massive agony brought on by this. Muscle spasms and seizing, difficulty breathing, your eyes feeling like fire ants are eating them, and of course visual and auditory hallucinations. Now I already had issues with visual and auditory hallucinations even when I could get sleep regularly but the combined effects of my OCD and Bipolarism made this perfect condition of Insomnia, Anxiety, Paranoia, with the already added in disposition to hallucinations and I felt like I was actually losing my mind. 

My hallucinations presented themselves in three forms. Disassociation of reality, night terrors, or alterations of reality. Disassociation of reality often were complete black out moments. I would lose any perceived connect to reality and enter an episode of my mind. I can’t remember what they actually were but I do remember what it felt like. Cold sweats, anxiety to point where if I didn’t lock up I would vomit, actual physical pain, mind numbing fear, and intense fatigue. 

The second were night terrors often in the form of horrific “things.” I do remember these and most of them were as best as I could describe, forms of things that were vaguely human and formations of industrial machinery. The most vivid one I remember was of a long lengthy apparition that was for the most part human but many locations of it’s impossible physiology were rebar beams and mechanical sockets. It began when I was about to fall asleep and it was next to my window. The thing was making week groaning and gasping sounds before it violently slammed against my window breaking it then letting out a horrific howl that I can’t describe as it tossed itself out followed shorty after with the sound of bones breaking against the dirt. 

Now that might not seem so bad, exspecally with everything that is in horror movies or games now, but keep in mind that was fucking real to me. It was as real as the clicking of the keys of my keyboard as I’m writing this. As real as the chair I’m sitting in and as real as the wall in front of me. As far as my mind was concerned that thing, what ever it was, actually existed. It took me physical touching my window to make sure it wasn’t actually broken and checking outside to see if there wasn’t a body there. This isn’t the type of thing I talk about lightly. 

Finally there is the alteration of reality. This is very simply but it’s something that fucked with me hard. For very little meaning or warning, I would have trouble interpreting the world around me. My hearing and sight would be warped and there wasn’t any real way to tell what I was hearing or seeing was real or not until the episode was over. The way I got through these was the ultimate fake it till you make it. Obviously, very often I failed and this created issue in my schooling. 

Ending Message: I’ve been in a very bad state for a while now and as it is now, no signs of getting better. I also strongly believe my medications are being to fail me which I’ve been telling my doctor and therapist for over a year now but nothing’s been done. Mainly it’s my Depression but insomnia episodes are beginning and my own paranoia been on the rise. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even look at a creepy image or thumbnail without having a very bad episode. 

I’ve managed to eat something today which was nice but my body is cramping hard. And to possible stave of a possible comment, I’m biologically male. Like I said I’m not in the best head space, or living for that matter. If this gets better, only time will tell. 

#Long post #tw: suicide #TW: Depression #Trigger Warning #TW #OCD #Anxiety #Chronic Depression #Bipolar Disorder #Bipolar #Mental Health #My mental health

[youngjaelook]

Regret It — Bodyguard!Wu Yifan

author's note — i had gotten requests to do yifan angst and jakwnaowme im so so so sorry it took this long for me to deliver! also this is lowkey abt junmyeon and reader idk im sorryygaiwnajw hope u guys enjoy this anyways <33 #UNEDITED

request from anon — Can I get a request with Kris Wu? Bodyguard AU! Angst.

request from @biathinks — I heard requests were open so can you write an angsty yifan drabble lol thanks

summary — You eventually fall for the man you can't have, your bodyguard. And in the end, it might just get you both killed.

warnings — character death, angst & strong language.

word count — 2.4K

"You're supposed to be protecting the boss' sister, not fucking her brains out." Hui was worried for his hyung. The end result of his reckless behavior and raging hormones would probably be him swallowing led. "Hyung, are you even paying attention to what I'm saying?"

Yifan had heard it all before. The warnings, the scoldings, nothing about it was new to him. He knew the consequences of his actions, but he didn't really bother to quote, "give a flying fuck about it."

Yifan simply smiled at the younger boy and chuckled. "Don't worry about me, Hui-ah. I won't die, at least not yet." Hui visibly cringed at the last part. He cared about Yifan immensely. I mean, how could he not? Yifan had practically raised him ever since he had first joined the mafia and the mere thought of the older man being shot dead, or worse, tortured, made his heart clench in pain.

"What if they hurt her too? Just to spite you."

Yifan hadn't thought of it that way. He swallowed thickly and shook his head. "That won't happen."

Hui fiddled the ends of his jacket and sighed. "Who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?"

The images came in a blinding white. You were splayed on the floor, crimson pooling around your limp body. The maniacal laugh of your brother ringing in his ears. Yifan blinked them away. "Just drink your beer and let's get the hell out of here already."

The conversation ended there. There was no more talk after that, not even when they piled inside the car and drove off.

It was nearly half past ten and you were buried underneath layers of soft, silk sheets, asleep and at peace, until had felt the familiar touch of Yifan lingering on the exposed skin of your cheek. You stirred in your sleep and unbeknownst to you, you smiled out of instinct.

Yifan did this often. He would come into your room when the manor fell quiet and asleep, admiring the image of yourself in deep, tranquil slumber. He thought you looked prettiest like this; eyes closed, lips parted and mind at rest. He knew you also felt better when you were asleep because then you wouldn't have to face your demons, or your brother, which who could also amount to the title of the devil's associate himself.

When his touch could no longer be felt on your skin, you whined involuntarily and called for him.

Yifan couldn't resist you, even from the start when you were just merely the boss' sister, whom he'd have to guard and protect at all costs. "Sleep well now, baby." His voice coaxes you back to sleep.

Morning comes and you're now alone in your bed, much to your dismay. You ran a finger along your cheek, reminiscing the way Yifan's touch had lingered there. You smiled to yourself at the thought of him.

And speaking of the devil, he comes through the door, hair slightly unkempt and lips set in a frown. "Get ready, your brother is coming to visit."

"Brother," the word tastes bitter in your mouth and for one reason only; Junmyeon could never call himself your brother. The man, although sweet and kind towards you, was anything but towards those who worked, or rather slaved, for him and to those who had wronged him or your family.

Yifan sighed. "Please just ready," with that, he leaves and you get out of bed with a roll of your eyes, and a slump of your shoulders.

You always dreaded visits from your brother. Talking to him was like talking to a ticking time bomb. At any given moment, he could explode and the damage was far beyond repair. You've been there many times before, but unlike the rest, you're probably the only one who makes it out alive each time. Being his sister had it's perks, I guess you could say.

You're dressed in white when he comes through the manor's doors. He looks dashing and handsome as per usual; hair slicked back, suit pressed and crisp, and designer shoes shiny and pristine as he takes long strides towards you. You don't bother to hide the displeasure in your face when he stops in front of you. You didn't like your brother, that much was obvious, so why bother hiding it?

Junmyeon tried to give you a smile.

"Y/N," he greets you. "how uhm, how have you been?"

Your gaze hardens and you peer behind his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the pretty plaything he managed to drag along. Poor girl, is all you can think of for her. "I've been better. What about yourself? I see you've brought someone along with you today? She's pretty."

Junmyeon glances behind his shoulder and nods. "She's just a friend —"

"Oh I'm sure she is." Junmyeon narrows his eyes at you as if to tell you to cut it out, but you enjoyed to poke fun at him. It's refreshing to see him all flustered and red. It makes you feel better.

"Ah Yifan, so good to see you." You don't miss the shift in your brother's tone. It sends a chill down your spine. And judging by the sinister glint in his eyes, you figure Junmyeon knows something you don't. "Now that you're here, I'd like to speak to both of you in the dining hall. Perhaps, in private?" You glance over at Yifan for a brief moment, panic evident in your eyes.

Yifan, on the other hand, remains calm and stoic. Not flinching once when your brother sends him and yourself a mischievous stare.

Junmyeon situates himself at the the head of the table because growing up, he's been taught that whoever sat at the head of the table had the most power and Junmyeon knew he had power, a lot of it actually.

He pulls out his gun from it's holster and twirls it around in his hand.

"You both know, especially you Yifan, that I hate it when people deceive me." He starts and you already know where this is going and where this will end. "So imagine my surprise when a little birdy tells me that one of my best men goes behind my back and starts fucking around with my sister." You were caught red handed.

Yifan doesn't even flinch when Junmyeon cocks his pistol and aims it at him.

"I need to hear you both admit it right now. Tell me right now, or I swear to god I will shoot you in the fucking head —"

"Why do you even care, Junmyeon?"

Junmyeon can't contain his shock at your informal addressing towards him. You usually called him oppa, or Junmyeon-oppa. He glared at you. "Why do I even — What do you even mean by that? Of course I care! I'm your brother for god's sake!"

You step in front of Yifan, arms crossed and eyes turned into slits. This was your tipping point.

You scoffed. "You don't act like one, that's for sure."

Junmyeon's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"You know what I don't get? How can you claim to care for me yet you hurt the people I love, leave me to wither away in this god forsaken mansion? You don't care for me, you don't even love me." Junmyeon had never felt this overwhelmed by hurt in a long time. The last time he felt this way was when your parents had been massacred along with a few of your uncles and close family friends.

"You push me away, locked me in here, and killed our Shownu-oppa and yet demand that I respect and treat you like you're my brother?" Your voice rises with each word your utter and by the end of your sentence, you're screaming your lungs out and crying pathetically.

Yifan has his hands on either side of your waist and this seems to set Junmyeon off. The bullet misses Yifan by millimeters and he cripples to the ground, clutching his ringing ear.

"What the fuck!" You yell at Junmyeon, who looks absolutely livid with his wild, bloodshot eyes.

He stands up from his seat and storms over to where you stood. "Get out of the fucking way." But you stood your ground, shielding Yifan's body with your own.

"Move or I will shoot you." He threatened.

You mocked him. "I dare you."

Junmyeon, blinded by rage, slaps you across the cheek so hard it sends you flying to the floor. Yifan sees this and is quick to tackle Junmyeon to the ground with a yell. "You don't fucking put your hands on her!" He growls in between his jabs.

Yifan is aware that he's a dead man after this whole situation. You don't beat your boss to a pulp and expect to come out alive in the end. Again, there are always consequences to your actions. But for you, Yifan is willing to risk it all.

Hui watches with wide eyes as Yifan lands a particularly hard blow, and a loud crunch could be heard throughout the room. He practically drags Yifan off their boss and rushes to aid Junmyeon, who, by the looks of it, is in pretty bad shape. "Jesus Christ! Yifan, you nearly killed him!" The other men in the room back him into a corner with their guns raised at him.

"Yifan!"

All eyes fall on you and the evident gash on your cheek. There's blood that runs down your face. Junmyeon's ring, the ring that all of the mafia wore, Yifan included, had broke the skin of your face, which resulted in you bleeding profusely. He hit you pretty damn hard.

The pretty girl Junmyeon had brought with him earlier was by his side, wiping away the blood that dripped from the wound on his eyebrow with the sleeves of the blazer she had on and glared at you.

"Get off me, I'm alright!" Junmyeon struggled to get on his feet, but managed anyways. He walked slowly towards Yifan. "You're a fucking dead man, you know that? First, you screw my sister, and now you try to kill me? You have a fucking death wish!" Yifan grins smugly at him. "I should have hit you harder." The first shot was made and the bullet went straight into Yifan's thigh.

You screamed and ran towards Yifan, but you were pulled back by Hui, who looked absolutely mortified in that moment. He didn't want you to get caught in the cross fire.

"Junmyeon stop! Stop it!" But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the second shot echoed in your ears. This time, the bullet dug itself into his arm. "The next bullet is going straight through your fucking head."

You pounded against Hui's chest as you screamed desperately for your brother to stop. "You think killing him will make you a better brother? You think I'd ever forgive you after this? I hate you and I will always hate you no matter what!" That seemed to struck a nerve in Junmyeon as his gun was now aimed at you.

"Shut the fuck up!" He sneered.

Hui's grip seemed to loosen around you, and you took this opportunity to march right up to your brother. "What, you're going to shoot me now? Just like you shot Shownu-oppa? You think you're capable of killing another one of your siblings, huh?"

Tears spilled from the brim of his slightly swollen eyes and it's the first time in a long time you've seen him like this; so vulnerable and hurt.

"Let's face it, Junmyeon. We can never go back to the way we once were, you had decided that the moment you killed our brother."

Junmyeon was practically breathing in your face as he stepped closer. "He killed our parents. He killed aeomma and appa, even Heechul-hyung. You remember Heechul, don't you? He was a kind man, extremely warm and loving. But he's dead and it's all because of Shownu."

You swallowed bitterly. "Our parents weren't good people, nor was Heechul-oppa and you know that. You and I can both attest to their wrong doings. I remember we were kids and you told me, you fucking promised me that you were going to be nothing like them. But here you are now, a monster. Just like our parents. Just like the person you promised you'd never become."

Junmyeon wails and for a moment, you think he'd change his mind, that he'd finally come to his senses. But the gun goes off for the third time and your white dress is tainted in crimson. Your cripple to your knees and you hear Yifan scream in the background.

Junmyeon doesn't even look at you as you bled out on the floor.

"You are a bastard! I'll fucking kill you!" Yifan is red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watches as you struggle to breathe and cope with the burning sensation in your side. "I'll kill you."

Junmyeon smiles at him. "I'll see you in hell."

Four gun shots and Yifan falls limp to the floor.

Junmyeon sighs. "Get her to Doctor Choi, so he can stitch her up or something."

Everything just happens in a blur and on occasion, you fall in and out of an inviting darkness that wraps itself around you like a warm, cashmere blanket. You had never felt so at peace.

You were half-awake when you hear your brother's soft voice talking to you. "I'm trying. I really am. I don't want you to go down the path I went, or the path Shownu-hyung went. I want you to be different, to be better."

"I'm just scared for you," he admits in a low voice. "All I want is the best for you. Yifan, that man was just going to get you killed. Hell, even being my sister could get you killed. But I just, I don't want to risk it any further." When his lips press against the back of your hand, your heart cries out and you suddenly want to be nine, playing with paper airplanes with Junmyeon and making promises you can't keep.

"I did this for you." He gets up and starts to walk to the exit.

Your eyes flutter open. "You killed the man I love, you could never justify that." Junmyeon spins around and stares at you wide-eyed. "Sometimes, I wish it was you that died and not Shownu-oppa." When the words roll of your tongue, a strange feeling of relief fills your chest along with the bitter taste of regret lingering in your mouth.

Junmyeon nods and smiles softly at you. "Me too, me too."

#wu yifan #kris wu #yifan au #yifan imagines #yifan imagine #yifan angst #bodyguard au #kris wu imagine #kris wu au #kris wu bodyguard #kris wu angst #suho #kim junmyeon #junmyeon imagine #hui #pentagon #lee hoetaek #huang zitao #byung baekhyun #oh sehun #kim minseok #kim jongdae #kim jongin #do kyungsoo #park chanyeol #zhang yixing #luhan #heechul #super junior

[yehoyminoy]

seeing all of this shit about Kendall Barron abusing her ex and then making HER look like the crazy abusive one is so fucking triggering and I’ve been sitting watching these videos crying

now.. what Kendall said is SO MUCH WORSE verbally than what I personally endured w my previous ex (she didn’t tell me to kill myself either) but the whole point of “they drive you to react and then call YOU the psycho one” hit me hard.

its so true like, with these types of people. blaming you, saying “if you didn’t do this” or “you made me do that”. No. Fucking no. I have NEVER in my Fucking LIFE had anyone treat me the way she did. And even after her, never. I remember thinking so many times I was psycho. My mental health was the worst it had ever been. I literally thought about killing myself every fucking day. I felt unlovable. I felt like I deserved this misery. I self harmed every week, at least. And she had me convinced it was all me. She was a saint, I was selfish and crazy and nobody else could love me. I was doomed without her.

There were times I’d sit on the bathroom floor and cry. For hours. Most of the time when we fought I would cry and cry and cry. I had never had anyone treat me that way so I had no idea how to react. Then there came a time (around the time she screamed at me to stop Fucking crying) I realized that me being timid did nothing. And so I’d react. And the second I did (even though she could be screaming at me for minutes on end while I just sat and cried) I was the bad one. There was LITERALLY no way I could work it out. It was a lose lose either way. You can’t ever win with them.

Im getting v triggered typing this rn lol so I’ll stop with the details there. But I just hope ppl understand how often this shit happens and how often the SO will cover it up in fear of making their friends hate their significant other or in fear that people will see them for who they really are and you don’t want them to leave you. My friends luckily did, even through my ex attempting to call BOTH of them behind my back to talk shit about me, and COMPLETELY skewing the story after asking me to come talk to her so she could scream at me and insult me for a half hour saying nobody will ever love me WHY would you call MY friends LITERALLY just to talk shit. That’s it. Not even asking for advice. She just wanted to be the one to get the first word in because she KNEW she was a fucking monster

Anyways

I never thought I’d allow myself to be the timid mousey pathetic person I was then. And I can’t even tell you how thankful I am to be out of it. Even though I begged for it back. She made me feel ABSOLUTELY worthless. I thought I couldn’t do better for the longest time.

Today, I am the happiest I have ever been. And not just in my relationship. In my entire life. I landed a job I fucking love. I moved all on my own. My own finances. I am stable. I’m independent. I met the love of my life. I know a type of mutual and undying love I didn’t even know was possible. She is the biggest blessing to me. Now I’m living with a significant other for the first time. And I’m so in love with her, with my life, with my future. Also I have an adorable demon cat who most of the time I hate but sometimes love. But that’s okay bc sometimes you need a lil evil thrown in there to remind you of the good 😂

Anyways I’m finally done with this I know I never post here anymore. But tbh this was my manic negative space and I’m proud that I don’t need it as much anymore. I’m so happy. I’m happy for myself. I’m so fucking proud of me.

#personal #abuse

[addiehour]

title: jennydarling & (the) r1pper

pairings: hmmmm can we guess

summary: put jenny & giles into my favorite AU (met playing a video game), playing my personal favorite rpg... which is where all the ingame chatter comes from. and don’t you think giles might be a little more confident behind a screen?... tons of easter eggs from the game, buffy, studio killers, and... one david copperfield trick. 

notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CELIA! @jenny-calendar i love you lots and lots; you gave me a home and a place in this fandom & even better, a friend in you and that’s something i’ll always remember and appreciate; thank you so much for making it this far and brightening up so many people’s lives ♡ 

brief glossary:

tank =  player who takes most of the damage (& redirects it towards themself if necessary) in order to protect squishier targets with less health

tank mage: there’s no term for an offensive (as opposed to defensive) mage so this is the best available one rip

hs = request to heal a player

pots = potions

gg = good game

Whisper messages = this game has no IMing; just a different color in chat and messages nobody can see... so like IMing, just not on a different window/screen

pvp = player-vs-player (in the game i’m using as a base, you’d apply for official pairings to make sure you got someone with the same level range, and it’d be 2v2)

wb = welcome back

tully’s = a real live actual chain of coffee shops

warrior = high defense, low range, high attack

mage = low defense, medium range, medium-high attack (depending) and ability to heal

ranger = medium defense, high range, medium-high attack

She doesn’t care if he is the r1pper, he is a self-entitled jerk and a complete creep and she is not going to play backup for him anymore. If he asks her, a tank mage, for heals one more time, she is just going to--

r1pper: hs

“Augh!” She rips the headset off and leans back in her seat. Okay, so she’s the only mage in this battlefield. Okay, so there’s three people total. Okay, so he’s taking some damage from the Thorns Curse on the egg that he’s trying to attack. But she’s trying to attack it, too, and now he’s going to get all the EXP, and he expects her to heal him?

jennydarling: use pots

r1pper: all gone

She groans, leaning back in her seat. Okay. Here we go.

jennydarling: i don’t have hs

r1pper: ???

r1pper: are you... serious?

jennydarling: yeah i know i’m a mage with no hs

He gets the last hit, and of course he’s been dealing the most damage because he’s been playing for six years and has probably invested thousands of dollars into this stupid game.

xwatcher2: gg

xwatcher2: thx for playing with us r

r1pper: nw

Another reason she Hates This Guy (fame aside, irritating attitude aside) is the way he talks. It’s dw: don’t worry. Nw??? no worries? Just type it out. Or use the normal abbreviation. But of course on him it’s ‘cool’. And he gets thanked for existing.

The ranger begins switching through different costumes. Jenny and r1pper’s characters stand awkwardly, not saying anything. She wants to shoot laser beams at him, but the best the game has is a little face that looks like it’s crying, and also the one you use when you’ve snuck up on somebody and killed them in two shots. So she says nothing, and when the game warps them back to the Village, she gets ready to teleport somewhere where she can train for three hours and not think about stupid famous r1pper and his stupid famous face (currently outfitted in a decorative eye patch she knows for a fact costs over a million Gold on this server) when she sees the little purple message pop up in her chat window.

Great, now he’s Whispering to her.

r1pper->jennydarling: you made a mage account with no hs?

She frowns. Yeah, and what? She tells him exactly that, and there’s a pronounced pause.

r1pper->jennydarling: I thought the whole point of having a mage account was to be able to heal

jennydarling->r1pper: well you thought wrong

jennydarling->r1pper: maybe i just like mana

It’s true. She tried being a warrior once, thinking it might be ‘easier’, but aside from being treated slightly better, the main difference was that she could only use skills after landing a shot with the normal Attack function, and that took forever on a low level. Warriors need to be trained skillfully, and you only have a couple options for attacks, anyway.

Mages? Now, mages are flexible.

She tells him that, too, and he types back haha. Like, what, it’s funny? He just can’t admit that she’s right. Or is totally incompetent at online communications, which is something else she’s also heard, on those forum boards you can’t escape his name on.

LAN0SCAST1E

     yeah if you actually talk to him he talks kind of funny

           TW0M

              funny how?

                    LAN0SCAST1E

                              funny like, he spells everything out. he also doesn’t know how to use most abbreviations; he says it took a long time for him to learn. but it’s also a cool break from the rest of the internet

                                     TW0M

                                         huh

‘Huh’ indeed. Jenny spends another half hour arguing with this weirdo about the ‘point’ of using mages before she tells him that maybe he should try using a mage account himself before he goes off at her about what mages are ‘for’, and also to go soak his head. That’s as creative as she can get without the filters catching it.

r1pper: well, thank you for talking to me, anyhow

r1pper: perhaps i’ll see you later

jennydarling: Perhaps I Shall Also See You Later, My Dearest Sir R1pper.

(And it takes forever to type capitals on this game, so she hopes he knows she means it.)

r1pper: dearest!

r1pper: well, i certainly prefer this to fighting

r1pper: good day

And then he logs off, so when she sends are you fucking kidding me it not only censors out the swear, it also tells her USER HAS LOGGED OFF in big yellow NPC text.

Jenny rips her headphones off, makes several violent banging motions with them, and then jams them back on her head as gently as possible because they are expensive and she doesn’t want to break them.

Jenny manages to avoid r1pper for a full week before she applies for PvP and ends up, unbelievably, with him. She prays they can do this without talking, and they do-- and for a moment, it’s easier than with anybody else; she doesn’t have to explain that she can’t heal, and he doesn’t expect any healing: with two tanks, they overtake the opposing side easily, killing first the squishy mage and then their tank.

r1pper: good thing i decided to stock up on pots

jennydarling: a warrior without pots is just an arrogant idiot

JENNYDARLING->CENSOR: a warrior without pots is just an arrogant *****

jennydarling: wow this game is pathetic

r1pper: and now i get to guess what you’re calling me

r1pper: does it start with an f?

jennydarling: too many letters

jennydarling: but close, and i’d call anybody that if they expect every mage in the battlefield to heal them

r1pper: i’ve touched a nerve

r1pper: metaphorically speaking.

r1pper: and i’ve also not gone anywhere near the nerve (anything to do with mages or healing)

r1pper: this is impressive

jennydarling: oh, die

r1pper: that’s just what i’ll do if every mage refuses to heal me

jennydarling: i’m ONE MAGE. let people have their own free will

r1pper: a passionate defense.

r1pper: let people follow tradition?

r1pper: reason?

r1pper: game design?

The system boots them back into the village, where both of them get lost in a crowd of people, and Jenny walks off to find someone to sell her victory pendants to. She has a full set of them now, which means it’s time to get her 50,000 gold, which she will use to save up for a new staff because she is hoping that the prices will drop in the next two weeks.

She’s just hit the OK button on the trade when another Whisper message pops up:

r1pper->jennydarling: hello

jennydarling->r1pper: do you stalk all of your fans?

r1pper->jennydarling: you’re a fan?

jennydarling->r1pper: touche. do you stalk all of your haters

r1pper->jennydarling: i wouldn’t say that, either

jennydarling->r1pper: has anybody told you you talk like if a british bulldog became mayor

r1pper->jennydarling: as a british person, i take offense to that

jennydarling->r1pper: but you don’t take offense as a bulldog or the mayor

r1pper->jennydarling: witty response loading. in the meanwhile, i have a bed to return to

jennydarling->r1pper: with or without a legion of hot chicks who follow your every move and claim you’re the best player to ever grace our humble w

The chat cuts her response off there, and she has to respond with a simple bye, which is unreasonably polite for her and looks unreasonably impolite on screen. But even with the phrase deleted, she can’t help thinking more about it, and also feeling grateful she didn’t get the chance to send it after all.

What do you know? r1pper has a blog.

Jenny finds this out while searching for a tutorial on how to finish Kulin’s quest in the Mushroom Marshland, because she’s been wandering all over the beach and in the lighthouse and absolutely nothing has dropped the Kneecap she’s looking for. She’s not even sure what kind of thing would drop a kneecap. There are skeletons, but they’re bosses and she’s hoping she’s not going to have to deal with them.

Find a party, r1pper suggests. Go together; the skeleton men are likely too difficult for one (even high level) player, especially as opposed to a balanced group of about two rangers, a mage, and a good tank (or two, depending on your level. Better to be safe than sorry). I have now completed the quest twice, and...

It gets worse from there, but the most absolutely awful thing has got to be the twenty comments begging r1pper to be in their party. Or guild, or genitals. Well, the genitals comment is only one person, and it’s probably a bot, but it still frustrates Jenny. She’s been playing this game for almost a decade now, and for what? For some guy with a weird way of talking to out-popular her? She hates him.

Which is also why she asks him to be in her party for the quest the next time she sees him log on (you know, after the barrage of wb r1pper, wb rip!, wb r1pper <3, and assorted other greetings that make her want to vomit).

r1pper->jennydarling: right

r1pper->jennydarling: you understand when i wrote that guide i was under the impression that a mage would heal the tank

jennydarling->r1pper: haha

jennydarling->r1pper: bring pots

r1pper->jennydarling: are you serious?

jennydarling->r1pper: yes. bring your friend

r1pper->jennydarling: ethan?

jennydarling->r1pper: wow i totally expected you to say ‘which of my thousands of friends, and women who want to do me’

r1pper->jennydarling: *and men

jennydarling->r1pper: ????

r1pper->jennydarling: you’re leaving out the men. this is outrageous

r1pper->jennydarling: what kind of social justice mage are you?

jennydarling->r1pper: HA. HA.

jennydarling->r1pper: you get 2/3 if we kill that many; i just need one kneecap for the quest

r1pper->jennydarling: alright

They get four, in the end (being high-leveled and all), and give the last one to Ethan, and Jenny walks away thinking maybe the whole experience wasn’t all that bad. So she goes to r1pper’s blog to find out what he recommends for tanks, and of course it’s all warrior-based and the mage-related advice assumes they’ll be behind the warriors, at all times. Jenny leaves a strongly-worded comment and trusts that he’ll know it’s her.

They join forces a couple more times before Jenny asks if r1pper has any social media. social media? he asks, and then says i don’t have any. And she says you have a blog, and he says, well, i wouldn’t call it anything social, and she says very funny now give me your phone number.

They don’t call each other. Jenny feels like it would just be weird. Instead, they trade stupid phone messages throughout the day. She sits in the library, scrolling through teaching jobs online (looks like a Computer Science/English double major doesn’t actually get you set for life), and occasionally receives a saw this and thought of you (accompanied by pictures of various spitting cats) or just in case (screenshot of a guide for ‘Beginner Mage Players’) or, once, for my biggest fan-- plus a signature so blurry that Jenny can’t even make out the first letter.

She has a guess, though.

jenny: does your name really start with R?

r1pper: yes, actually

jenny: wow

jenny: do i get to find out what it is now?

r1pper: absolutely not

r1pper: you would laugh at me

jenny: and now i’ve got to know

jenny: is it randy

r1pper: good lord

r1pper: no. not half as bad as randall

jenny: randall???

r1pper: it’s what randy is short for

jenny: of course it is

jenny: tell me your name

r1pper: under no circumstances

jenny: tell me what you’re signing, then

r1pper: i’m moving, as it happens

r1pper: a new job in sunny california

jenny: hey, norcal or socal?

r1pper: i feel very uncomfortable telling my most vocal critic that

r1pper: you might break into my home and leave dirt on all my belongings

jenny: (busts every window in south california to find you)

r1pper: that would be frightening

jenny: yay! i live in socal too

r1pper: this is the most excited i’ve ever seen you

r1pper: well, ‘seen’ you

r1pper: for that, if you give me a county, I’ll reciprocate

jenny: who has time for that? i live in sunnydale by the high school

r1pper: really!

r1pper: soon that will be me as well

jenny: wow, nuts

jenny: you know what this means, right?

r1pper: your search will eventually turn up my home and you will burn it to the ground, chanting about mage oppression all the way?

jenny: WE SHOULD MEET UP.

Jenny flips her phone over, rolls her eyes, and doesn’t worry about the texts until she hasn’t gotten a response in five minutes.

r1pper: i don’t think that’s a very good idea.

Oh, of course he doesn’t.

jenny: you’ve been wrong about all your ideas so far

r1pper: not the secret path to the pirate ship on the beach

jenny: fine. not that

jenny: but this isn’t about secret paths

r1pper: it’s about me not knowing if you’re secretly a child!

jenny: say what

She realizes, with a jolt, that she actually hasn’t thought too distinctly about r1pper’s age. She assumes he’s not as old as her, obviously, because what other thirty-five-year-old would waste their time on this, but now it’s hitting her that he might be a teenager.

Not with that speech style, she tells herself, and then tells r1pper that she is a fully grown adult and she has her own house. He relents.

r1pper: so what is your master plan?

jenny: you arrive at my house, i eat your head

r1pper: very attractive.

jenny: how do i know YOU’RE not a kid

r1pper: who just bought an apartment?

jenny: ...fine.

(Okay, she should’ve thought of that. Whatever.)

r1pper: anyway, coming to a stranger’s house is out of the question

jenny: your mommy won’t let you?

r1pper: my common sense won’t let me

jenny: does your common sense let you drink coffee?

r1pper: no, as it happens

jenny: sorry

jenny: what

r1pper: i don’t drink coffee. i drink tea

jenny: right, british

jenny: still not an excuse

r1pper: it isn’t an excuse. it has nothing to do with the fact that tea tastes good, and coffee tastes like pig swill

r1pper: pardon my french

jenny: you’re

jenny: so wrong i don’t even know where to start

jenny: at least let me buy you coffee

r1pper: wouldn’t that be complying with the patriarchal subjugation of mages, or something?

jenny: maybe so

jenny: tully’s on monday at 10 am, and if you’re not there i tell everyone i know ingame that you have a +crit potion fetish

r1pper: i’m tempted to force your hand to see if anyone would believe you

r1pper: it’s possible you’d only lose your few remaining guild members

r1pper ranked the top seven guilds recently, using some kind of Microsoft Excel sheet that was too complicated for Jenny to understand more than the first column of. He gave the excuse that he didn’t actually know of more than seven highly influential guilds, and then tacked on an ‘honorable mention’ for Jenny’s guild, which he knows full well is just her and three other people, no matter how hard she tries to get everybody else to join. For the last six days, she’s had people harassing her to get in, then immediately dropping out when they see it has no members.

jenny: ha. ha.

jenny: show up or else

r1pper: threats! now you see why nobody joins your guild

r1pper: you have to be more personable

jenny: and you’re so personable??

r1pper: actually, yes

r1pper: when not repeatedly harassed by mages

Jenny doesn’t have much of a response to that other than to tell r1pper that he’d better show up at the cafe next week, and she’s going to get him the sweetest possible coffee and so help her he is going to drink it. r1pper says he’d rather stick with his potions, and Jenny slaps her phone down and doesn’t talk to him for an hour.

It’s only while standing in line for her (and his) drink that Jenny realizes she has no idea how she’ll recognize him. She orders a vanilla latte along with her own espresso anyway, thinking that there’ll be enough people who want a vanilla latte later for her to just pass it off onto them in case of an emergency.

Fortunately, she doesn’t have to worry. In the time it takes for her to get her drinks and get back to her seat (behind her laptop, which displays a meta about the game’s stats system she’s been working on), someone has materialized in the seat across from her.

“Oh,” she says, putting the drinks down. She finds she didn’t have a witty opening line planned, and has to compensate. “That was fast.”

“I used my recall scroll,” he says, smiling slightly. He looks a lot more nervous than her, but he does have the promised British accent, which makes Jenny feel considerably closer to her usual confidence.

“And you’re in your level-forties,” she quips, sitting down and sliding him his drink.

“Ouch,” he says, pointedly not touching it. He has light brown hair-- which is the real age giveaway, because it’s thinning-- and glasses. She wouldn’t have expected glasses on the world’s number one RPG star. And a dad sweater-- Jenny wouldn’t have expected that on r1pper, either.

“I feel like I could stand to know your name now,” Jenny says after a moment. r1pper shifts uncomfortably.

“Um-- Giles. Rupert Giles.”

“Rupert?”

“Now you understand--”

“You think Rupert--”

“--why I refused to tell you!”

“--is better than Randall?”

“Yes,” he says, and sits back. “Did you poison the coffee?”

“I didn’t poison anything,” Jenny says, flipping her hair. “Rupert.”

“Well, if you’re going to say it like that, we may as well revert to using our usernames,” he mutters, lifting the top of the cup.

“You don’t do that,” Jenny says, and he stops.

“What?”

“Don’t lift that. It’s going to spill on you and burn you.”

r1pper--Rupert--whoever-he-is doesn’t look like he really believes her, so she shrugs and replaces the cap as best he can.

“Um-- so the rest of my guild is fighting a boss right now,” Rupert says, sort of staring out the window.

“Gee, and I’m so sorry to keep you from it,” Jenny mutters, taking a much longer sip of her espresso than is ever necessary.

“No-- No, I mean that I-- I canceled, to meet you.” He laughs quietly, looking at his cup. “I’ve been coached on how to talk to you.”

“Oh, really?” Jenny takes another sip. “Tell whoever did it that they did a bad job.”

“Everybody in my guild joined in, as it happens,” Rupert says. “I have been told to ask if you like Mexican food.”

“Sure, yeah,” Jenny says. “Do you want to go get some?”

“I feel like it pairs badly with coffee,” Rupert muses, and then takes a sip. “Oh, God.” He scrunches his entire face up and doesn’t de-scrunch it for several seconds.

“It’s sugary,” Jenny tells him.

“So you did poison it,” he says, putting the cup down. “Am I expected to drink this?”

“All of it,” Jenny says. “That’s why you have a Small.”

“And you have... the opposite,” Rupert notes, gesturing.

“I’m very good at what I do,” Jenny says, half-emptying the cup in one gulp. “God, that’s good.”

“This is frightening to watch.”

“Listen--” Jenny puts her cup down for a moment. “If you want to go get Mexican or something--”

“My coaches didn’t ask if I liked Mexican,” Rupert says. Then he adds, “but I don’t mind it, so if you’re offering--”

“I am,” Jenny says, very firmly. She also tosses her hair a bit, for effect. “Next week?”

“I’m starting my job next week.”

“Ooh, let me guess.” Jenny sits back. “Programming?”

“Absolutely not. It’s a, um, daycare center.”

She leans in again. She’s actually not sure she heard. “A what?”

“For the... for the elementary school. You know, aftercare. And then before that it functions as a-- as a preschool, you know--”

Jenny snorts.

“Have you told your guild?”

“Why would I?”

“Because nobody’s going to believe me if I say r1pper works at a daycare,” Jenny mutters, taking another sip. She considers trying Rupert’s drink, but then thinks twice, mostly because it really does have a lot of sugar.

“Right,” Rupert says, fidgeting with his drink. He pulls the cardboard coffee sleeve up and down his cup, and then mentions, “I tried playing as a mage.”

Jenny tries not to act surprised. “And?”

“And it was more difficult than I thought. I’m sorry.” He pauses, and Jenny is just managing to figure out how to take all this when he adds, “You can have my username on that account-- it’s 3619737. I didn’t want any... similarity to my other username. And it’s virtually impossible to remember.”

“Right,” Jenny says. “So you’re... asking me to help you level up?”

“That is exactly what I am asking, yes,” Rupert says, flushing more than when they were talking about getting Mexican food together.

“Can’t use your famous guildmates, I guess,” she mutters into her cup.

“Speaking of guilds,” Rupert says, “I was thinking of asking you to join mine.” And then he takes another sip of his drink, and coughs. “As I said: poison.”

“Clearly the sugar’s going to your head.” Jenny finishes off her cup and tosses it into the trash from across the room; the barista gives her a dirty look.

“Putting your skills as a mage to good use,” Rupert notes, and Jenny looks at him. “Ranged attacks.”

“Oh, shut up. And you know I’m working on my own guild.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Rupert says. “Please let me pour this out.”

“No,” Jenny says. “And what exactly would your guild be offering me?”

“A party member whenever you need one,” Rupert says, “and probably some help if someone tries to player kill you on the beach.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jenny says, crossing her arms.

“I know you can, which is why I’m asking you to join. I wouldn’t take on anyone who needed help.”

“I don’t--”

“I didn’t say you did,” Rupert says, half-smiling. “But you have a talent for dragging me into arguments.”

Jenny mutters something irritably and tucks a strand of hair out of the way.

“Fine,” she says, eventually. “I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I am willing to ask.” Rupert gets up, giving his cup an odd glance. Jenny sighs; he takes it with him when he leaves. She squints after him to make sure he doesn’t toss it out the second he shuts the doors.

Two days later, Jenny is being plagued with Whisper messages.

thebigb->jennydarling: is it you

havefaith->jennydarling: hey do you know r1pper

westofthemoon->jennydarling: it’s you???

fredonly->jennydarling: omg found you

Jenny responds to as many people as she can with confusion and gets directed to r1pper’s latest blog post, which-- fine-- she said he could make.

Recently I met another player ‘IRL’ for the first time. It was an interesting experience, though not one I would likely repeat too soon (before anyone comments asking). She was very nice, although she bought me what I still believe is a poisoned drink, and...

Fine. Read the post, see r1pper updated the list of guild members, 2+2=Jenny.

But it still weirds her the fuck out.

thebigb->jennydarling: wait are you and r1pper dating

jennydarling->thebigb: NO

thebigb->jennydarling: oh okay cool

jennydarling->r1pper: do you deal with this all the time

r1pper->jennydarling: deal with what

jennydarling->r1pper: whisper messages

r1pper->jennydarling: yes; i don’t respond to most of them

r1pper->jennydarling: block them if they’re giving you trouble

r1pper->jennydarling: ...you’re getting whisper messages?

jennydarling->r1pper: thanks to the fact that everyone thinks i’m dating a certain someone

r1pper->jennydarling: who?

jennydarling->r1pper: oh nevermind

r1pper->jennydarling: well alright

r1pper->jennydarling: friday?

jennydarling->r1pper: still happening

r1pper->jennydarling: oh, good

r1pper->jennydarling: i just wanted to be sure

jennydarling->r1pper: yeah

jennydarling->r1pper: nw.

#calendiles #jenny calendar #buffy #. HAPPY BIRTHDAY 2 MY DARLING CELES! #. also this is the One and Only time i will refer to him as 'rupert'. we all know i hate that name #. also also: jenny joining the scoobies perhaps? #. :3c #benfic

[queernuck]

speaking of drugs though, i really wish i had some. ive been wishing i had some for quite some time now, of course, but something about recent weeks has just been frustrating and agonizing and the way that my family treats me is so awful in so many ways that I just want to break out of it and get smashed for a while. 

like, i take my meds, my dad doesn’t understand how they work, and so he talks about strattera as if you can just go on and off when it specifically takes time to build up, works far different from his concept of medication, is something he approaches in such an incorrect framework that it’s fucking wild, he just has no fucking clue how it works! he doesn’t, doesn’t at fucking all. 

and of course it’s been over a year since the day where his gaslighting and abuse and all of the shit he does came to roost in him claiming I had never said anything to my mom about my partner visiting after mentioning it to her, that the two of them had discussed it once and then never again, and that this was my fault. that his inability to communicate with either of us, with anyone outside of creating a certain persona of himself as approachable and a good middle class white motherfucker was somehow my fault and my fault entirely. He puts on a kind of affected kindness, where he draws out a discussion in a way that lets him restructure it without him even particularly realizing, and it kills me. 

and there’s also my cousin’s funeral, the death of a kid I went to college with, the way that flailing and inadequate attempts to manufacture and codify and realize an “epidemic” lead simply to violent and reactionary politics, a kind of concentration on controlling the body rather than allowing its opening up, and i fucking hate that. that people will openly and readily use the deaths of people who were convinced of prohibition’s inadequacy because they saw it firsthand, people more than understanding of the conditions that lead to the growth of the heroin market in America, people who understand the flow of opiates into contemporary American culture better than most, are used to justify bullshit about how we have to kill and maim and deform bodies more openly than ever

and i want to feel Area X in my bones, I want to eat a giant bowl of shrooms and feel a world washing over me, the incoherent jumble of decolonized ecosystems reclaiming a new growth of potential, deterritorializing and rotting the American soul from within as Central struggles to keep control, I want to know my own bodies and the body of others more intimately, more fully

I want to stay up all night in a hotel room snorting lines and chatting and cuddling and going on runs to the bodega to get more alcohol because we really drank it all that fast? we’ve only gone through a fraction of this eight-ball and we already drank all of that? may as well pick up blunt wraps on the way back, we’ll want something to roll up later

and this place, this fucking Island has made me so fucked up, so numb that everything feels like pain, now or later, sometimes life gets fucked up thats why we get fucked up, popping pills thinking about you, I wanna eat xans and fall into endless love endless sleep endless dreamscapes of glowing neon I wanna pop some bars and just relax for once, rack up some coke and watch the NBA, rock a fresh fitted and not worry about who will see me because I know I am gorgeous and loved and worthy of that. I wanna be off my SSRIs so I can roll face and keybump ket as I watch Lain, really jack myself into the Wired as I hit the Gay Clubs that so many tumblr posts seem to talk about, pop one pop two two halves that’s three, meet cute boys and a girl like tina, snort some stamps of boy as I nod out in someone’s arms, copped two bundles and a bunch of bars for the weekend but I barely got through two bags before nodding off it was so good

and all of this is on the back burner because money and life and the bullshit that comes with being-at-home, I don’t have a fucking home anymore I live in a house that hates me, that looks back at me and appears in my dreams as a wolfdog ready to fucking tear me apart, where I am always crying and do not know when I was left alone but know that I have been, know that nobody will ever believe me again, that this emo shit is way worse than anyone ever thought and that in New York I cant even get a good enough gun to off myself with

all i am is a cash machine that talks, im a web plugin that people wish they didnt have to deal with, im a human pop-up ad with too much fine print at the bottom and you know that nobody has ever read it, even the person who threw it together just pasted a few legal templates alongside one another and nobody cares about it anymore if they ever did it just signifies something else, takes on the form of it such that a semiotic transfer is completed without any actual risk of human contact

theres so much i wish i could do but none of it will ever materialize

saints and angels pray for me

pathetic 

#drugs #negative

[brujalatina]

loyalty | 01

☆ pairing: yoongi x reader

☆ genre: angst, pining, jealousy, fluff, humor, future smut. producer au; reader is a model and a thotty lol

☆ word count: 3k

summary: First impressions are always important, and Yoongi never thought he’d be falling head over heels for you and your promiscuity. The problem was, you didn’t Do dating, nor desired it, and neither did he, until he met you.

→ part 01. → part 02.

a/n: this is for my black ‘n brown, not-skinny, curly-haired hoes cuz i’m tired of reading fics where the reader is described with white features and my black pussy can’t relate! :)) lmk what y’all think. also listen to loyalty by kendrick lamar ft. rihanna i think the song is fitting for this fic

Yoongi had never been a fan of parties. Really, he hated them.

They were messy, loud, and took time away from work. The time spent at a party was the time he could have been spending in his studio working on the production of a new piece of music. Parties deterred him from working, and as someone who was completely dedicated and committed to his music, he hated it.

Parties weren’t all bad, though. It allowed for Yoongi to form connections with other people within the music industry for opportunities to collaborate with them, or to form connections people involved with major media outlets that would help him gain more exposure (not that he needed any more than he already had). That is, if these connections weren’t wasted enough to carry a proper conversation regarding work at a party, which was almost rare. Sometimes Yoongi was lucky enough to make these connections at parties, but more often than not, people were too shit-faced to function.

Taking a swig of his Jack Daniel’s, Yoongi sighed as he tore his eyes away from potential connections among the crowd of dancing bodies and brought his attention back towards the song notebook he carried with him everywhere. In the midst of the party he had been attending, he was working on ideas for a new song he had promised he would help his friend and colleague, Hoseok, with. He was the reason he had been attending the party anyways—to form new connections, but most importantly, to have fun. Hoseok knew Yoongi almost rarely stepped out of his studio at home, so he dragged his best friend out to party at a club he had rented with the excuse of working on a new song between drinks. He felt that he had been doing Yoongi a favor by coercing him into attending this party, and Yoongi had always been weak for his best friend, so he no choice but to cave in. Needless to say, Yoongi was regretting allowing Hoseok to convince him to leave his studio for the party.

A large hand gripped Yoongi’s shoulder as they shoved their face in front of Yoongi’s, smile as bright as ever. “Hi! Sorry, I’m back.”

“Hobi,” Yoongi said, unamused. “You sure took your time.”

Removing his hand from Yoongi’s shoulder, he took a seat next to his best friend and ordered a drink, then turned to face him. “I was catching up with one of my party guests for the longest time, hadn’t seen him in a few months.” As he spoke, he spotted Yoongi’s notebook on the bar counter. “I told you to come have fun, not work.” He frowned.

Yoongi massaged his temples, annoyance clear in his features from not being able to work on the task at hand due to the heavy music resounding in the loft. “I know, but I wanted to get a head start on that song of yours that you’re stuck on.”

Hoseok smiled at this, touched that his best friend was taking his work so seriously for his sake, but not at all surprised. Yoongi took music, in general, quite seriously. “And I appreciate that—I do! but we can work on that tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to relax. You need it.”

Hoseok was right, when was the last time he had taken a break from work? Yoongi would have guessed that New Year’s Eve had been the last time he spent more than 24 hours outside of his studio, spending the holiday with his family instead. Not even on his birthday a month ago had he taken a break from work. He held so much love and dedication for his job that he felt he didn’t need breaks. Like people felt at peace through mediation, producing music made him feel euphoric and accomplished, and the feeling was addicting. Still, he did have to admit that the dark circles under his eyes from long nights working in his studio had only become darker. His weight had been reducing as well from skipped meals and his doctor had already reprimanded him for his malnutrition. Yes, Hoseok was absolutely right about him, as usual. He needed to take a break for once. Yoongi nodded and downed the rest of his drink. “Fine, you’re right. I’ll take a break. Just for tonight.”

Hoseok’s face beamed, relishing in the fact that Yoongi was being complacent with him, yet again. “Ok! Before anything, there are a few people here I’d like to introduce you to.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi’s arm and pulled him into the crowd of bodies that were either dancing or were engaged in conversation over the blaring music, introducing Yoongi to some new artists that had recently entered the music industry.

As Yoongi and Hoseok continued to search for more people to mingle with, Hoseok changed directions upon spotting a familiar curly head of hair in the distance and began walking towards it while Yoongi followed.

She had been leaving one of the empty rooms in the club, pulling down the ends of her red, deep, v-neck bodycon dress that had risen considerably over her thick thighs, almost exposing her entire ass, and then pulled her dress straps over her shoulder and adjusted her breasts in the least undisguised form possible. A man left the room behind her, they exchanged a few words—he was visibly upset—and she rolled her eyes at him as she shooed him away with her hand.

Hoseok walked up to her as Yoongi followed by his side. “Hey, Y/N! How are you doing?”

You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug in which he had quickly and warmly returned. “I’m great. Thanks for the invite, babe. It’s been some time since I’ve gone to a party with people that are...worth the while, if you get what I mean.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes at you, understanding what you had insinuated. “From what I just saw, it looked like you didn’t like him, though?”

You shrugged. “He was good, but I don’t like when guys get clingy and start asking when they can see me again. Not that fast, at least. Pathetic.”

He laughed heartily at this, you were the same Y/N as usual—talking shit about the men you fucked.

As you and Hoseok talked about your sexual activity right in front of Yoongi, Yoongi, who had been standing beside Hoseok the entire time, had been long forgotten. While listening to your conversation had been rather amusing, he cleared his throat to remind Hoseok of his presence, which seemed to do the trick.

“Oh, right, Y/N, this is my friend, SUGA PD,” he gestured to Yoongi. “SUGA, this is my friend, Y/N.”

For the first time that night, Yoongi’s eyes locked with yours, and to him, it felt as though your brown irises were piercing into his flesh. Hoseok had mentioned a Y/N in the past—you were one of his closest friends, so naturally, your name came up occasionally in conversation. Based on what Hoseok had already told him about you, you were a model under their rival company but had recently switched to model under Hoseok and Yoongi’s company. Although the two of you were close friends, Hoseok had previously described you as, “so beautiful it hurts”, and “to die for”. Back then, Yoongi thought his friend had been exaggerating, which was not unusual on his part, but damn, the guy wasn’t kidding. You weren’t just beautiful, your beauty was enthralling—not to mention how cool he thought you were for having a tattoo of hands holding constellations on your right forearm. From head to toe, you were stunning and exuded a powerful aura that radiated confidence and made Yoongi’s spine tingle. Knowing your profession as a model, having some semblance of self-confidence was expected, but in that short moment he had met you, he knew yours exceeded the expected—not that he found anything wrong with that, it was just rare. This was the feature he found most captivating about you.

“Right, the famous SUGA PD. I have some of your music. It’s pretty tight.” You extended your hand to shake Yoongi’s, which had already been ready to shake yours before you suddenly retracted your hand and settled for a small wave while smiling sheepishly. It was then when Yoongi guessed you had avoided shaking hands with him because you had been using your hands for...other things that had taken place in the empty room just a few minutes prior. He took no offense to this and instead felt gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said, both in regards to your compliment and for your kind gesture in regards to sanitation. “Hoseok has mentioned you a few times,” he added, earning a light punch from Hoseok for exposing him.

You chuckled while curling a strand of hair around your finger, “All good things, I hope.” You weren’t going to lie, Yoongi was cute. You had seen him in pictures and in his music videos, but from up close he was fine. A fine ass piece of a man with beautiful, beautiful teeth. His skincare game was strong, too, which was something you both liked and admired in a person.

“I mean, I don’t have anything bad to say about you, Y/N. Especially since I know you’d kick my ass if I talked badly about you.” Hoseok scratched the back of his head, recalling a time in which you had, in fact, kicked his ass for drunkenly telling a mutual friend—who snitched on him to you, by the way—that you smelled like dick.

You clicked your tongue, recalling that time as well. “Talk shit, get hit. You know how it is.” You both laughed. “I’m under the same company as the both of you now. The company I was in treated me like complete shit, which I don’t take well, so I bounced.” Yoongi arched a brow, so you continued. “I mean, I was getting good money, but they talked down to me, which is an immediate strike in my book. I went off on this one dude in the company who thought he was big shit and said I was lacking, so I told him his dick was lacking, grody, and that it was a damn shame that he only lasted five minutes that one time I sucked him off, so he threatened to have me fired, but then I flipped him off and quit right on the spot.” You ended with a shrug and Yoongi’s mouth, as well as Hoseok’s, had fallen agape. Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

Yoongi was surprised by how frank you were being with him, considering how the both of you had only just met. You were sharp-tongued, smart-mouthed, vivacious, witty, and carried yourself with a confidence anyone would envy. Not forgetting to mention you were exhilarating in every form possible, from your beautiful curls, to your curvaceous body. It was especially your self-confidence and the way you carried yourself that had been enrapturing to him and probably to many others. Yoongi couldn’t help but feel goosebumps being in your very presence.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was accustomed to your antics. “Y/N...Jesus. I want to say I can’t believe it, but that was so Y/N-esque of you.” He shook his head as he clicked his tongue.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi blurted out. He hadn’t said much before—he had already been so tired from interacting with the other party guests that he had very little energy for social interaction left in him, so during the time he had met you, he had only uttered a few words. But for some reason, he suddenly felt like asking you a million-and-one questions. In the short time he had met you, he realized you were very interesting. And yeah, a lot of people are interesting, however, not to sound cliché, but you had something about you that stuck out to him. “He deserved that shit, honestly. I’m glad you told him off. Shit, I would have too. I think you’ll like it much better under our company.”

“‘What the fuck’ is right,” you laughed louder than usual, surprised by Yoongi’s sudden change in demeanor. You could tell he had gained a sudden interest, but was apprehensive to press on further about the subject. He was really cute and reserved, you noted, and his sudden change in behavior was also cute. “I hope so, hopping from company to company is fucking tiring.”

“Well, depends on what type of company you’re referring to,” Hoseok joked, earning an eye roll and a scoff from both you and Yoongi at the same time, which you both immediately caught and snickered over together. Hoseok’s eyebrow perked up at this interaction.  

“Anyways, I promised my friends I’d get plastered with them tonight and should probably go and find them. We’ll probably be seeing each other more often now, so take care of me,” You sing-songed and winked at Yoongi, earning a small, amused smirk from him in return.

“I will. It was nice meeting you, Y/N.” He smiled warmly, showing you those beautiful teeth again. This time, his smile was different. You knew he had taken an interest in you, but that wasn’t new for you. You had to admit, you were an interesting, complex person. But the way his demeanor had suddenly changed into something more charming had caught you slightly off-guard.

“Nice meeting you, too, Sugar.” You hugged him this time and didn’t miss how his body went rigid under your touch. “See you later, Hoseok.” You hugged Hoseok as well, adding a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Hoseok had grown accustomed to your hugs and cheek kisses throughout your friendship, so he thought nothing of it but knew Yoongi would probably ask questions later, considering the skinship he and you shared. “Call me if you need anything or if anything happens, ’kay?” He rubbed your back.

“Don’t worry, I’m a big girl. But thanks, babe.”

When you were out of sight, Yoongi still hadn’t moved from the spot where you had hugged him. You had left him, quite frankly, shook. When you hugged him, he noticed you smelled like roses and a hint of vanilla. And your arms, breasts, and torso pressed against him were warm, so warm, to the point where he almost missed your touch. You sent all of his senses on overdrive. He felt stupid for freezing up and not returning the hug and mentally chided himself—he had been in shock by the suddenness, after all. He also didn’t miss how you had called him “Sugar”, rather than “Suga”, in a way that resembled flirting.

Hoseok noticed Yoongi’s immobility and far-away expression. He was stunned. You had such a presence that it let everyone shaking in their boots, so Hoseok knew that his friend had been under your spell.

He put a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “Yoongi, you okay?” He laughed.

Yoongi quickly snapped out of it and returned to a state of normalcy, dragging a hand over his face. “Yeah, I just—wow.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“Incredible.”

Hoseok eyed his best friend carefully, it wasn’t always that Yoongi reacted so strongly to the presence or existence of a woman or man.

“She’s fucking hilarious and seems a bit intimidating, but she’s a good person and a great friend.” Yoongi nodded, not quite looking at Hoseok and once again drifting out of focus. “And she’s phenomenal in bed,” he added.

And Yoongi’s attention had returned, eyes snapping back to Hoseok. “You’ve had sex with her? Wait, so are you both a thing? She calls you ‘babe’.”

“Nah, we’re best friends who had sex together once, well, maybe twice and I kind of had feelings for her for some time? but she made it clear that she doesn’t date, just prefers to sleep around.” Hoseok noticed the way Yoongi held his attention onto him, the faint look of hope that had flashed in his eyes diminishing. A sigh escaped Hoseok’s lips. “Unless you just want sex, don’t even look at her, Yoongi.”

Yoongi felt a bit disappointed knowing this fact, and for what? He didn’t date either and had decided to instead dedicate his time and expend his energy into his music, at least until he felt ready to date. The people he had dated in the past had used him for his money and fame, and left him wallowing in his own hurt. The people he had dated prior to his fame had used him for his kindness and then fucked him over. These instances that had left him wounded had made him apprehensive of romantic relationships. And who knew which kind of person you would be? What he did know was that he couldn’t take the risk of finding out. When things went well with someone, his apprehension and self-doubt would get the best of him and he would end things before they got serious. Besides, he knew that he would be far too occupied with his own work to have a proper and fair relationship with his significant other. If he was going to be with someone, he wanted to give his all into their relationship; they didn’t deserve having to wait around for him, they didn’t deserve to be dragged into a relationship that was tedious and disappointing. Dating you was out of the question anyways, considering you only messed around. No matter how interesting, hilarious, or enrapturing you had been, it just was not possible. Besides, even if you did date, Yoongi would have probably fucked up somehow and chickened out along the way of trying to become something with you like he usually did with the women and men he felt attraction to. Dating was scary. Why was he even thinking about this in the first place?

He shook the thought of dating out of his head. “I need a shot.” He decided.

#yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi #mine

[yumethenikki]

this is long and u probs shouldnt read it esp if you dont talk to me regarly off tunglr and shit

this is long confusing and all over the place and probs triggering  i guess

its been a wild fucking week/month i guess. a few months ago i was dealing with my drug addict parents and my dad nearly killing my mother and me having to stop him  from hitting her and getting hurt  in the process... i didnt really have much of a reason to live. my online life wasnt good either, neither was my irl life. i was starving from my  mom staying gone and lived in fear and had to constantly stop my parents from killing each other (literally) and my dad broke my moms ribs ... and she had to go to the hospital. to say the least i was very suicidal and didnt know why i was living like this when i could have been dead and itd be easier.

my online life wasnt helping, combined with irl shit I was in a pit of depression and relapsing on several things  and i constantly brought the mood down and very little thing was bugging me. i started to have a break down cause i was afraid all my friends (who are all i got, not to be edgey ex dee but)  didnt like me, i have abadonment issues, i started to feel like they hated me an wanted me gone and ect. /now/ i know its not true but that harmful mindset made me terrified and  upset.

i then started feel like i was making someone that i loved well, romantically, uncomfortable/upset and my autistic ass was  trying hard to be better ?  i felt as if i was making them uncomfortable, i had actually been feeling like this for a year or so on and at first i  held it in and tried to ignore it but more-so ‘recently’ i guess  it started get harder to keep it locked up and i  constantly searched for what i was doing wrong to make someone i loved upset/uncomfortable with me, to the point of them not wanting to say they loved me/treating me more like a platonic friend ?

again its not their fault, its no ones fault, and i couldn’t force someone to love me more than they did, i guess i wasnt used to it.

ieven ith that realization i still tried harder to be a good person/easier to be around, i triedeverything to make it feel like i wasnt being avoided/annoying anyone but nothing changed, i had alot of empty promises made to me that made me very frustrated and i was crying every day over the same shit cause someone important to me was making me feel like .. well. shit !

ect ect i was so suicidal and depressed and a poor in taste joke made me start crying cause it was well, rude to me and made me upset and jealous of ppl in better relationships than me, i then realized the person i loved was aromantic, yada yada. and i was fine for maybe an hour or so and then alot of realization/over thinking sunk in and i was so fucking upset and mad and heart broken again

i felt like i had been led on for two years and people just watched me suffer  and try to give me advice but everything had already been said and done and nothing was going anywhere no matter what i said  and did and all advice i was given I HAD ALREADY DONE  and it didnt work.

so, needless to say i was frustrated and i got pissed, i was very fucking angry, i didnt want anyhting to do with anyone! i felt led on for amusement and i felt pathetic for getting upset but most of all i was angry and even punched a wall like some angsty teenager cause i felt used and i thought you know, for two years you think someone would realize they weren’t ready

i also realized (im saying realized alot sorry)  that i was bringing everyone down, i didnt want to accept any apology, i felt like i was being made out as the bad guy even though it wasnt anyones fault and i apologize for that. im sorry for bringing people down with my own problems. im still fragile and i dont want to think about it. i was mad and sad

i was upset that ihad to think for a year that i was doing something wrong and i had been promised to ‘ill get better’ and  no, it wasnt abusive, i refuse to think that, but it wasn’t going anywhere. i was stuck.  i was trying for something that couldn’t be fixed and was neither persons problem and i was letting it eat me alive  like some fucking maggots

i dont know how to end this.. the more i think about it, i get angry/upset! im fragile still, and i constantly think im not allowed to be angry, depressed, bitter, ect. and put others first instead of myself.

i guess what im saying is im tired of putting people before me instead and blaming myself for everything, everything that had happened for this (up to) two years had made me realize i can’t jsut let myself  be upset. i can’t just let myself pretend everything is okay even though im crying and trying to fix something cause i feel like i broke it. im not going to let that happen, im going to be stronger. im not going to take anything and not let people take me for granted 

i guess im just.. well tldr  im not going to let myself be weak and too nice anymore and get walked over by people who don’t care. im not going to let people make me uncomfortable and im going to put my foot down when something upsets me. im tired of being so nice and crying and shit. im tired of self harming and loosing blood and over dosing for !! people who dont care!

im fine now.  forgive but never forget. or whatever.  im okay, im feeling much better  and ive been going to bed in good moods, things will heal in time but for now im okay. and ill continue being okay. no ones going to take that from me, its my time now. im sorry this is all so edgy. just a summary of hwo ive been feeling for the past year.

#dream diary #long post for ppl on mobile i am so sorry

[bloojayoolie]

Being Alone, Animals, and Crazy: POF POF SEND MESSAGE FLIRT SEND MESSAGE FLIRT FAVORITE r the stupid thin VIEW INTERACTION FAVORITE VIEW INTERACTION Most of you on this app are horrible people and have ruined it for the rest of us few decent people left. We know who we are End rant. Sorry but it was necessary for my own sanity. Back to the rest of this thing. You ***hole men here are sofa king pathetic and desperate youve managed to drive the majority of women here extremely cynical and very hard to get through to. None of ya seem appreciated enough by a real man, especially who takes the time to please the living outta you with his tongue for as long as you can handle it... you poor poor things, stop wasting your anytime soon I'm also not looking for just hookups time with boys and find a real man already, duhhhh. We either, rather genuine people and connections, people are out here somewhere Hi I'm jeremy! Im a nice normalish guy looking for real connections with real people for friends, dating, and possibly more, who knows. I'm outgoing, spontaneous and adventurous and I'm looking for a like-minded woman to enjoy life with and have fun together. Ok maybe normal isn't quite right but whatever I'm a good crazy tho. While l'm not looking for anything serious who appreciate old school things like chivalry and how about just not being an ***hole. Wow. My cynicism is pretty high too but I can manage it. I love the outdoors, fishing, camping, boating, diving, skiing, etc but I'm also gettin kinda old and lazier now so l could really use a real cutie to push us to go do things together. And you **hole women too aren't any better, some have been extremely rude crude and classless, others are so inflated in their sense of self it's hilarious. Why can't all you ***holes just find each other and leave the rest of us good decent people who want to actually get to know someone alone to do it?! Ask a **"ing question that matters or say something that actually means something, stop treating each other like animals or get a ***ing hooker already! If you're hilarious and adorable and sweet and fun, and even a little kinky would just be perfect ok- perfect for me ??- that's all I ever want, if you can keep up then hit me up! be a huge bo nus???????? well Self proclaimed "nice normalish guy"

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Being Alone #Animals

[emberlynnrayne]

BPD- My struggle with mental health

[I wrote this for facebook, but felt it was important to have here, too. Opening up like this was incredibly difficult.]

I promised a few days ago to write about my struggles with mental health, so here goes.

My biggest struggles are with a combination of Anxiety, Depression, and something called BPD. While real education about anxiety and depression is sorely lacking generally, it’s still far more understood and accepted than BPD, and I’ve written about them before. So let me tell you about BPD. First and foremost, despite much confusion, it does not mean bipolar disorder. It means Borderline Personality Disorder, and despite how it sounds, it has nothing to do with having multiple personalities. BPD can stem from many things, but in my case, it boils down to the environment in which I was raised. With the combination of my own mother and father suffering from their own untreated mental illnesses, the sexual abuse I suffered, and a myriad of other environmental detriments, I basically did not learn to function in an emotionally healthy way. BPD is different for everyone. That means that you may know someone with BPD who acts completely differently, it means that it needs to be treated differently per individual, and it means that the lasting effects work us in different ways.

I’m going to tell you what BPD means for me.

First and foremost, I feel strongly. I feel in extremes. It’s black or white. Good or bad. Higher highs and lower lows. I feel too much, or nothing at all, and I don’t know how to manage it. I’m getting better, but you have to realize that I don’t know any different. This is just the way it is and always has been for me. Learning that it doesn’t have to be has been slow, and trying to put it into practice has been slower. I can feel utterly overwhelmed by my thoughts and feelings, too full to think or express, or even understand. And I can feel empty. Just, utterly empty. Like a black hole. There’s no bottom. There’s no filling it up, or turning it around. I just have to function around the hole. There’s not always a cause for either. I don’t even know it’s happening when it starts. I just suddenly realized that it is. It is. It also makes me an extremely empathetic person. It also applies to people. I am slow to trust, but when I do, oh my god I love you so much, you’re so amazing and I put you on this beautiful ornate pedestal without ever realizing it. I am loyal to a fault. And it goes the other way, too. If I don’t like you, I really don’t like you. I don’t want to be near you, I don’t want to look at you or talk to you. If you’re in the good with me, it is incredibly hard to break out. If you manage to do something or build up enough things to fall out of the good with me, it’s worse than having been in the bad in the first place. It is incredibly difficult to do, so you would have hurt me or someone I love in a deep and horrible way. You become less than a person to me, you become less than scum. You become nothing but something to laugh at and hate simultaneously. You will never come back to my good side.

It sounds exhausting, doesn’t it? Try living it. On a list of signs and symptoms, this would be ‘unstable relationships’ and 'mood swings’.

I’ve gotten better in this aspect. Of course I still struggle with the extremes, but Im much better about holding people up on unmaintainable pedestals. I recognize that the faults in my loved ones are not secrets to be ignored and hushed, but things to love and understand with them. When you manage to fall from my good side, it is not impossible to come back. It will take time, work, and a level of honesty that is difficult for most people. The honesty is imperative though, because I am incredibly sensitive to lies, and there is no room in my life for liars. So, it is possible, but I still need you to really want it, and be willing to work for it, because remember, whatever you did had to be extreme to go from my good side to bad.

That brings me to the next point, though. Trust. I mentioned that I’m slow to trust. That is an understatement. It is incredibly difficult for me to manage my trust in people. I know that having no trust in anyone is incredibly unhealthy and isolating, so (in my naturally extreme way) I tend to trust the people on my good side almost implicitly. Lies are the easiest way to fall out. White lies, I understand. I can accept now with understanding that the world basically requires them. Unnecessary, repeatedly, or maliciously lying to me, however, is a deal breaker. Generally, though, I don’t trust people. I don’t trust strangers to any extent. No matter your gender, race, or how much space is between us, it doesn’t matter how well I know you or how much I love you. There is a deep, however slight, level of mistrust. I suspect they intend me harm. It’s irrational, but there is only one person I trust without a shadow of a doubt. The ones you love the most hurt you the worst, after all. So who can you trust? It’s such a big part of my BPD, that it actually has sub-topics. Because of the incredibly unhealthy environment I was raised in, I developed an acute sense for people’s character, integrity, and trustworthiness. It is not a brag, it is not a fun game, it is not something I usually want to 'test’ or discuss. It is an unfortunately necessary skill I had to develop to protect myself. That being said, it is always happening. I know if I’m being lied to. If I like you, I will quickly analyze it, and probably choose to ignore it, but I rarely forget it.

Once again, it goes both ways. I consider myself an incredibly honest person. Unless I am in a professional environment, I don’t typically hide what I think or how I feel. It’s difficult to do if I want to. ( I’ve actually had more than one conversation about my eyes and eyebrows away my thoughts.) I joke about 'word vomit’ on the regular because I struggle to filter my thoughts and words. (Communication in general is a topic we’ll get to soon.) I am an open book, for the first few layers, and if you care enough to ask, if I’m comfortable enough with you, Im usually open to talk down to my core. If you’re on my good side, if I love you, I truly give you my whole self. My heart is yours and I genuinely love you. I can’t not.

Personal communication. Holy shit, guys, if you gave me a month’s notice to prepare and asked me to verbally express this to you, I could not. Verbal expression is incredibly difficult for me. I can’t think when I hear my own voice, and I process incoming information best by reading or watching, too. This one is another unique to the cause of my BPD. I could give you exact details why my brain works better this way now, but that’s another story. I can’t think when I’m talking, which makes filtering, controlling, and generally communicating incredibly difficult. I get overwhelmed by the sound of my own voice. When I hear it my brain screams at me to stop talking, to the point that sometimes I’m not even sure what I’m saying anymore. It is an overgrown scar from the fight or flight response, in which my voice fled, because fighting with my voice was a wet noodle against a brick wall. My voice meant nothing, and to exercise it usually brought trouble and pain. I can write, though. I was a caged bird with so much to express. It found an out through writing- my vocabulary the muscles I could flex freely, my escape was reading, my breath was writing. The only freedom I always had was writing. I can write. I can’t speak.

But it’s currently 3:40 in the morning and while I love to write, writing about myself and translating my massive struggle into something I feel accurately expresses it, is difficult and exhausting. For now, I may need to dial back the explanations and keep it simple. If I can, I’ll expand upon the parts I feel I should later.

I have intense abandonment issues, and practically no self esteem. I truly struggle with the belief that people don’t actually like me, they’re just being nice and tolerating me. One day, they’ll all get bored of me, or grow to hate me, or I’ll do something wrong, or we’ll just grow apart and I will 100% lose everything I have and everyone I love. I haven’t been able to tackle that yet. Its almost a fact in my mind. The sky is blue, and everyone in my life will leave me. Grass is green and I am a worthless pile of human waste. The sun is a star and I hate myself and I’m terrible at everything I will ever try to do or be. Forgive me, I know that’s the part people usually jump to argue with first, but please don’t. It’s not based in logic. I appreciate the sentiment, but it almost makes things worse. My brain says 'look at how they pity you, pathetic thing’. It’s ugly, but it’s my reality.

The second ugliest thing that people seem to struggle with is self harm and suicidal thoughts. It’s not always cutting or burning, or jumping or hanging. For some people it’s over eating. For others it’s substance abuse. For some it’s spending, for others it’s sex. Self harm, for me, it is either vivid thoughts of being roughly, uncomfortably bound with rope or wire. In a completely not-sexual way. Being able to tighten it or struggle against it and feel the pain. I don’t know why, but that’s what it is these days. The suicidal thoughts for me are much more passive. “What if that car swerved and hit me.” “What if I got really sick and there was no cure.” “What if a vein popped in my brain and I bled out.” Not actively trying, or even hoping. Just recurring thoughts of the end of my life. (Let me reassure you, right now, because suicide is no joke and it is not something I take lightly. I have no intention of trying to end my life. I have no intention of letting anything else do it for me. If I can avoid it, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I promise.) It’s just one of those things. Like a song getting stuck in your head. It just happens.

I am sensitive. I notice the slightest change in the tone of your voice. I notice the twitch of your brow. I see the wringing of your hands. These tiny changes can be absolutely nothing, and part of me will know that, but the other part of myself is already obsessing about what I’ve said and what mistake I’ve made and how much I’ve upset this person or how far I’ve just managed to push them away.

I take it to heart when you make a joke at my expense. Even if you’re kidding, and I know you are, even if its super funny and I’m laughing my butt off, even if I know that it’s absolutely untrue, a sliver of it goes straight to my soft heart. It will sting regardless, and I will stress and worry that it might be true.

I am socially inept. I second guess EVERYTHING I do socially and if I make a slip that you’ll forget in seconds, I will still be mentally beating myself up for it the unforeseeable future. (As I write this, one slip I made 4 or 5 months ago comes to mind, and it still makes my stomach drop and anxiety raise.)

I am incredibly hard on myself, with a massive guilt complex, and have absolutely no idea how to to cope with or express it. If I accidentally stepped on your toe, I am immediately burying myself in insults and scolding and hating myself. I am imagining the rough ropes binding me, and wishing I could just disappear. I’m already so far gone in my mind that in reality I am clumsily trying to apologize and the worse it is, the worse I feel, the less I know how to express my regret properly. No one wants you to cry with guilt over stepping on their toe. So I can seem stilted and callous. I know sometimes it seems like I’m not sorry, but I just don’t know how to express it in a socially acceptable, healthy way. I genuinely blame myself completely for things I had absolutely no control over, and I’m always apologizing. Sometimes I’m apologizing just for existing, taking up space and your time with my foolish self. But that’s not socially acceptable to say. To I apologize again with a laugh or joke, so it’s easier for everyone to move on.

I, personally, struggle with the need for validation and reassurance in a very big and real way. I can’t really express why and how, but it’s so, so important to me.

Trying to juggle this issue and trying to remember and practice functioning like a healthy person absolutely contributes to my anxiety and depression. It is exhausting and isolating, and even as I write this, I’m not sure if I’m actually learning to function in a healthier way, or of I’m learning how to pretend better. I am happy and life is generally good, but these are deep set scars that are going to take a long, long time and a lot of effort to work through.

So there you are. An incredibly intimate and honest look at my struggle with mental health. My cards are on the table and Im nearly out of words.

I know that being around me requires a level of patience that not everyone has. I know that loving me can be complicated and challenging. But I feel your support. It is immeasurably appreciated. It is held with serene awe and gratitude. To know that people actually choose to spend their time sharing any level of existing space with me, always surprises me and brings me strength.

Thank you for reading.

[askjennie]

Should I tell my mom I don’t respect her?

hey jennie,(I’m 15 f) my mom just confronted me and we had a convo about how she felt i was bullying her like just how i talked to her and stuff was disrespectful. she said she thought i didn’t respect her and she really needed me to treat her better and with respect and kindness. the thing is, i dont really respect her. she not evil like she’s good hearted but she’s just absolutely pathetic. my dad is a really successful artist and he works really hard but most of it is doing something he really loves. but he also works really hard doing everything else like household chores and cooking and taking care of me and my brother and handling all the finance stuff and he’s more involved in my school life and stuff and its fine he loves work, he complains sometimes about household chores and stuff but really he loves working. btw he is 10 years older than my mom, anyway he’s also really brilliant and just an amazing person the only thing thats bad about him is that my mom says he’s verbally/ emotionally abusive, they would get into fights a lot when i was little, but it was always initiated by her and she was the only one to ever get violent (she’s thrown things at him,hit him, etc never anything drastic or too serious) but honestly i totally understand why my dad says these things to her (nothing ever really that bad even), she’s absolutely impossible and thoughtless and really just stupid and ignorant. anyone would get frustrated and he NEVER gets violent, he’s really the kindest most thoughtful and good and kindhearted person, truly. my mom can be fun sometimes but I’m getting pretty smart and i can never hold an intellectual conversation with her. she hardly ever does anything except cook which she complains about but enjoys most of the times and she does a lot of household chores but my dad still does a lot too. all she cares about is tv, health-things (I live in marin county california) which is one really good thing that she does she makes us all eat really healthy cuz she does most of the shopping, also [she only cares about] Facebook, shopping for clothes, etc. she wastes tons of money on utterly frivolous things and she just doesn’t seem to care about things and she thinks she can do whatever she wants and the world lives to serve her. now despite all this i dont think she’s a bad person or evil or anything i just feel like she’s less mature than me and i just turned 15! she kind of disgusts me though because her position is so stereotypical: stay at home mom who spends all her husbands hard earned money on useless shit. i just dont see how she can live like this. in short i just dont really have much respect for her and i dont know how to tell her or if i should in which case i dont know how to communicate with her because I’m just so tired of having to be the mature one and it puts me under so much stress cuz i feel like i dont have a strong mother figure in my life and my dad is not always available cuz of work like i spend most of the day when I’m not in school with my mom (but i talk way more with me dad lol) i just feel really unstable and I’m scared that I’m gonna end up like her, like: if she can’t get her life together can i? idk i feel like all my habits and stuff are from her. but then i remember we are different people and that doesn’t really matter.

im so sorry about how insanely long this is, anonymous pls! thank you so much hope you have a lovely day!!

Jennie: You should treat your mom with respect, but there’s more than one definition of respect. The first one is ‘letting everyone have their human rights and being generally polite and kind to people’. In this sense, you should treat everyone with respect. The second one is ‘admiring someone or treating them as an authority’. You probably don’t have that kind of respect for everyone, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve the first kind of respect. If you don’t admire your mom, or believe she should have authority over you, that’s okay. But that doesn’t mean you can’t behave politely towards her.

It’s worrying that you’ve described abuse coming from both your parents. I know it might feel like you need to diminish it and say that it’s “not that bad”, because they’re your parents and you want to defend their behaviour, but I hope that you at least make sure it doesn’t leak into your future relationships. Hitting someone is serious, even if it’s a woman hitting a man, even if it doesn’t happen that often, even if it wasn’t very hard, and I hope that you’re able to recognise that in the future. Your mom says that your dad is emotionally abusive, and it’s difficult to tell from the outside whether that’s true. She could be exaggerating, but maybe there’s a side to their relationship that you haven’t seen, because you’re not involved in it. You defend him ‘saying things’ to her, and I don’t know what he says to her, so I don’t know if it sounds abusive or not. There’s a difference between fighting with someone and abusing someone. But if he’s continuously saying things to her such as “you’re stupid”, “you’re ignorant”, or “you disgust me”, then that is emotionally abusive, and even if you feel that you agree with those statements, that doesn’t mean it’s okay for someone to constantly insult their romantic partner.

You don’t know the full story of your mom’s life, and you don’t know why she behaves the way she does. Maybe she’s deeply unhappy staying with your dad but she’s financially dependent on him, so she has no choice. Maybe she has an underlying mental health issue. Sometimes, spending money can become an addiction, because buying something new can give someone short term happiness - sometimes people who are unhappy become addicted to buying stuff because it makes them feel temporarily better. I’m not saying that any of this is true of your mom. But it’s probably a good idea to look deeper than just “she’s a frivolous housewife who doesn’t care about anything”. I think we’re all guilty of labelling people like that sometimes, and taking someone’s behaviour at face value and judging them without knowing the full story. But sometimes it’s helpful to think about why they might be behaving that way, because if you know that, you might have more empathy for them.

This is understandably a frustrating situation to be in. But I don’t think that telling your mom you don’t respect her is going to help things improve for either of you. It’ll probably just strain your relationship further, and make your time at home more difficult. This is a temporary situation, and you won’t always be living under the same roof as your mom. For now, do your best to be polite, and understanding. It’s not fair that you have to be the mature one. But if you are able to act maturely in this situation, you’ll make things easier for yourself in the long run.

You and your mom are different people. Parents don’t always just teach us what to do - they can also teach us what not to do. You can learn from your parents mistakes, and use their lives as examples of how you don’t want your life to be. If there are aspects of your mom’s life that you really don’t want, then you can figure out how to reach your own goals, and ensure that you don’t end up like your mom. You have your own free will, and your own life. 

#advice #ask me anything #abuse #respect #mom #family #advice blog #advice column #askjennie

[ghosteddie]

The stuff you've posted about abuse has really helped me, do you mind talking about what happened?

Yeah so hello readmore. As you seem to already know, my inbox is open if you need anything else. I use the IM thing too.

I’m glad that my stuff is helping you, I won’t share everything but I’ll explain some of the different stuff I’ve endured. I know I felt like I was somehow alone and living the same life as everyone else at the time, like it was normal and nobody would understand. So I understand why you’d ask this.

We’ll start with childhood. The basic building blocks of how I lived as a kid are:

My mom would spoil my brother while degrading me for existing. He was perfect but I could never do anything right. I always feel like maybe I made this up, like it wasn’t that bad, but I vividly remember instances like standing in the middle of the store and asking for a t-shirt, getting a no, then watching her say yes to my brother for the same t-shirt. She ponied up a shit ton of dough to get him into football and soccer, but she wouldn’t let me go to my choir concerts even though it was REQUIRED for a grade in my class and took me out of soccer the second I got scouted for an advanced league. I wasn’t allowed to be good at anything and I wasn’t allowed to have nice things.

If I tried to figure myself out and express my identity, I was punished. A friend painted my nails at lunch at school one day in middle school, it was a pale color, you could barely see it. Another parent had bought it for their child, so I can’t imagine it was like Harlet Brand. There was nothing wrong with it, but when I came home she emptied out a bottle of nail polish remover and made me sit still as a statue and hit me if I moved. I had to sit there for almost a full 24 hours without peeing or eating or drinking water, I wasn’t allowed to move until the nail polish ate itself in the remover. I wasn’t even allowed to rub my fingers over the polish. I was always put in adult size XXXXL, t-shirts were three quarter length sleeved and went to my knees. If I didn’t disappear in it and it didn’t look like I was just a pile of clothes, it was too small. My friends would buy me things for my birthday out of pity but my mom always took everything away immediately, their mothers felt so bad and I never knew what to do about it. She didn’t even throw this stuff that I wasn’t allowed to have away or donate it; she reveled in keeping it in her room like a trophy. She liked me being able to see that the stuff that I wanted was still there but I couldn’t have it.

She shaved my head at every opportunity.

She beat me for just about every reason I can imagine that she could think of. My brother pissed her off? Beat me. She had a bad day at work? Beat me. I didn’t do enough for her? Beat me. I literally broke bones. I have scars to this day.

She used me as a slave. Even back as far as I can remember in like elementary school, I was the one in charge of cooking for everyone, I was in charge of cleaning up after everyone, and I did all of the laundry. There was not a chore that was not my responsibility.

She liked to tell me that I was going to grow up to be as big as her. That I would be as ugly as her. That I would be her. She’d tell me my life was worthless, that she brought me into this world and she could take me out of it. She’d tell me that I couldn’t do anything. I’ve always loved to sing, but if she ever heard a peep she would always berate me for it. She’d tell me I was terrible and a bother for having an interest. That I shouldn’t even be seen, let alone heard. My brother would join in on this. They’d laugh.

Nothing was ever allowed to be wrong with me either, which really fucks me up. I fell down the stairs and twisted my knee so hard it was purple and she told me to walk it off, then laughed and called me a sissy lala when I cried because it hurt. I broke my funny bone on her work property and the only reason we even know that is because even though she was laughing at my bleeding nose, chipped tooth, and steadily growing arm that was changing green and blue and purple and calling me a pansy for saying it hurt, her boss INSISTED she take me to the hospital.

She ripped my cast off by force less than a week later. Said I’d only use it for pity and I didn’t need it anyway.

The next step from there was total neglect. There’s a big story for me going to the children’s shelter, but she basically was just like whatever I don’t want him and then proceeded to not give a shit about trying to see me. She basically just washed her hands of me.

In my later teen years, after I’d been in the foster care system and started taking care of myself, she ended up back in my life. Things are going fuzzy, I don’t remember how. But, at this time:

She no longer beat me. In fact, she acted like it never happened and just didn’t acknowledge it at all. I think that is the most terrifying thing she’s ever done.

She would tell me a sob story about how her landlord was coming for x, y, or z and then ask me if I could come over to help her clean up. She’d tell me that her landlord would kick her out if they saw how much of a mess her house was and she’d say she had no idea what else to do. I would spend a whole week straight cleaning her house. She wouldn’t help at all.

But she would laugh at me in front of my friends. She’d offer to take us out to dinner and then tell stories about what a pathetic little sniveling child I was.

When a boyfriend cheated on me and tried to throw me down her stairs and started ripping the gutters off her home, she looked at me bleeding and sobbing on the floor and said I’d let go of the best thing that had ever happened to me. That nobody else would love me and whatever he had done couldn’t possibly be bad enough to warrant robbing HER of time with him.

Then there’s the monster ex:

I always want to say that things started out slow and escalated, but that’s a lie. The first thing he did that was abusive was manipulating me into thinking his ex was the devil. He had me thinking this girl was making him want to kill himself, and he constantly sent me after he like an attack dog. I know that she wasn’t doing anything wrong because I do eventually simmer down and try to talk things out and all it took was a few simple screencaps to show the monster ex was a damned liar. He admitted it too when called out and we eventually became friends? Like it was the weirdest mindfuck he’s ever pulled. He tried to make his ex kill herself, then sent me to make her want to kill herself, and then we were friends. I even woke up from a drunk night wearing HER pants once. I drew abs on the woman. I think this is why he has yet to actually send anyone my way to bitch me out. He always has people yell at people, but not me. Not once. Because he learned that sending people to yell at someone for something that never happened ALWAYS backfires.

The first err against me was after we’d moved in together. We were really happy, and I know he likes to play like he was never happy now that all is said and done, but that’s just more abuse. It’s his way of erasing his blame and making it look like he is some Super Pathetic Victim. He cheated. And he lied. To someone his ex knew too, more than once. It was a whole thing. Like he was laughing to my face and we were cuddling and I tied him to the heater and fucked him silly, but he still needed to have some pity to feed off of, so he made up some stuff. Which he admitted. But then kept doing. She kept falling for it. He would say stuff like he was going to steal my wallet in the middle of the night and run off to be Hummelberry in NY. I don’t even think he was really cheating because he liked the girl or because he wanted to cheat, he just wanted her to pity him to The Highest Extent.

Even just this far, there is obviously only one reason a person would stay with a person like that. And that reason is abuse. It’s fucking powerful.

He would ride my coattails whenever I’d do something online, and if people paid attention to me he had to push in too. He loved it when people loved us. Then he would start contolling the things I did. I cannot tell you how many times I admined a group and had to watch as he abused people in the group. He was so terrible. But I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t stop him.

And he’d control who I could talk to, who I could write with in groups. He liked to ship wreck my ships. He’d already have like 5 ships with me and then he’d decide to make a 6th character and his FIRST move was always finding one of my character’s to ruin. He literally brought his abuse into character. He abused one of my rp characters in the same way he abuses me and the ENTIRE rp was SO uncomfortable.

It wasn’t until I started telling him to stop treating me like shit that things got really heated up. I never understood it and it drove me insane at the time, but he would abuse me and I would say he was abusing me and he would nod his head and tell me he understood. We’d have a heart to heart convo about how he was hurting me and how he could avoid doing that in the future. I’d ask him to remember to consider me as a human being all the time, he always forgot I wasn’t just a stepping stool. But we’d get to a good place and I’d think he understood. He would have expressed his heartfelt desire to do better and be a better person— but then he would go online and throw pity parties about how terrible I was.

He had a huge love of gaslighting or making shit up. He would post about me on his blog to get attention all the time, and talk to his friends about me. Just lie, right through his teeth. Nothing was too outrageous for him to go for. He had to villify me, and as far as I’m concerned that’s abuse too. It’s practically cyberbullying when it’s done in a tightknit community. He’s sent me anon hate, he’s sent my friends anon hate, and he’s sent anon hate to other blogs about me. He’s also signed hate to other blogs about me, even after I finally got him out of my life. He can’t breathe without using lies about me to host a pity party. That feels like abuse to me. His lies weren’t ever even all that good. He’d be as bad as to say “I want you all to give me money so I can spend it on me” and then say “I wanted to give HIM that money, not me! I’m a saint!” Like…. the original post is right there with the words “for myself” written right on it but okay?

My mind is really going fuzzy now, so I’ll leave a really short list that will cover like 1/1000th of his daily abuse. Some of the every day things included:

Making me out to be the bad guy if I ever asked for anything

Guilting me for telling him when he did things that hurt me

Telling me things like that I wasn’t worth being treated with common decency, right to my face, just because he was mad. 

He pushed and pulled with his attention and affection a lot. He was always very manipulative in the way that he would pay attention or talk to me and be super sweet and then flip it when he got what he wanted. 

He was also very manipulative in the way he would be sweet to me and then shit talk me behind my back. Kind of like how he we romantic with me while cheating behind my back. I’m poly. Bro. Literally all you had to do was respect me as the person you’re already dating and a s k.

Signing into my messengers, reading my private stuff, especially after we fought, so that he could see what I was saying to my friends. If I ever dared to ask for help from someone, or said a word about him that wasn’t sparkling, he would immediately start another fight. 

Calling me fat - I will never forget this. I literally said, “If I were this big, I would jump off the roof and kill myself, I 100% cannot handle that I am freaking out” and he replied, “Well, you’re that big.” I’ve had serious eating disorders since childhood, fucking asshole. I don’t care what excuse a person can come up with, there is none for that. Even if your worst enemy says, “I’ll kill myself if ___” you do NOT reply with, “well, ____” unless you’re ABSOLUTE garbage. He tries to claim that he was only with me because he thought I’d kill myself if he left, that making shit up is another abuse thing, but if he gave a shit about my mental health or if I killed myself…. why the fuck did he tell me I was fat right after I specifically said I would kill myself if I was fat??????? And he knows I’m not lying. It wasn’t a funny haha I’d kill myself lol xD xD like his are. He knows I only say that shit when it is  r e a l.

Admittedly taking his anger out on me, yelling at me just because someone else made him mad

He would constantly tell me that my style was wrong, or that the clothes I was wearing made me look too girly. He was always telling me that I needed to be different, downing on me until I felt bad and had to second guess everything. I never really cared how people saw me until he started making me feel like every time someone looks at me, all they see is a girl. He pushed that transphobic, sexist, YOU HAVE TO LOOK LIKE A MAN TO BE A MAN bullshit on me all of the time.

Telling me all of my interests were stupid

Acting out whenever he had to do something. Like we were moving out of Arizona and packing things up into the Uhaul, we were almost done, we just had the Christmas stuff. We were moving on and off too, really lazy, but we did also do everything at once. So he starts whipping me with words as fast as he can, trying to get me to just shut down because he’s attacking me. It doesn’t work, I ask him to get the xmas stuff in location a while I go to location b and get shit done and I shit you not, Miller-opher Kingle, Mr. I Listen To My Thousand Song Christmas Playlist All Year Round himself screams out, “I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHRISTMAS!!!!” in his attempt to get me to give into him.

Complaining whenever I wanted to talk about my interests or indulge in my interests

While also shoving every fart he made under my nose and demanding validation

Forcing me to watch stuff he was interested in and even picking fights if I said no but always acting like I wanted him to rip off an arm if I wanted to pick something. 

Invading my private space. He was fucking obsessed with climbing into my bed and it was the creepiest and most terrifying thing in the world. Nobody wants to share a bed with their abuser, and nobody should have to deal with their abuser clinging to their arm like a tumor. Nobody should be forced to allow themselves to be used to up their abuser’s state of being. 

LOUD ASS FUCK SKYPE CALLS WHILE I AM ASLEEP but oh, better yell at me because I wanted to listen to music while he was awake and he’s just too lazy to put the headphones from his neck to his ears so he can block me out

Refusing to clean, making me do it, yelling at me whenever I asked him to help out even a little

Refusing to cook, he would rather starve if I didn’t always cook for him

Refusing to work, especially when we were freelance writing. I’d give him like 500 words total and then take one 50,000 words myself and STILL have to do half of his when I finished mine

Using all of my shit, even when I told him not to, even when he said he wouldn’t. It feels like abuse because it’s like pissing all over my stuff, taking my stuff. A lot of my costume makeup he completely used.

The biggest thing though was that if I couldn’t give him something useful, I was useless. If I wasn’t blowing compliments up his ass 24/7, I was useless. If I wasn’t cooking and cleaning up after him, I was useless. If I wasn’t praising him and showering him in attention, I was useless. If I wasn’t being whored out to the internet to draw in more people to adore him, I was useless. If I was telling him he had to change, that he couldn’t keep abusing me, I was useless. What I wanted never mattered. If we got two bags of chips, he got one and three fourths and I got one fourth. If we got two things and promised to share 50/50, he’d still manipulate me into getting at LEAST half of my half. I could never just have an equal amount of anything. We’d go out and take 100 pics of him and 0 of me. Even when we went to Lady Gaga and I was DRESSED like Lady Gaga herself and I was stopped by fellow fans for pics with strangers, the one event that was quite literally The Me Event, and we got ZERO photos of me. that even after I spent six hours pouring myself into a skimpy ass costume that I made myself, and even after we drove hours and hours to get to the concert, even with it being my birthday present, zero photos of me. I’m the only person at that event that did not go home with a dozen and a half photos of me, I shit you not. What does it say that we BOTH valued me so little? If you feel what I just described in any way, you’re probably being abused.

#personal post #abuse tw #I endured #Anonymous

[xasherahx]

Confused

Im so confused right now. I dont know whats up and down on my feelings. I was at a job interview yesterday. I didnt expect to get the job seing how i knew i didnt met the requirements, and i know i did all i could and more. Yet today when they called and told me i didnt get the job i felt sad, but happy at the same time. No im sitting here at the middle of the night feeling pathetic and weak, yet strong and like i accomplished something. I literally feel like im going to throw up cause its causing a weird ache in my chest. I feel like i should just give up on everything, yet im desperately looking for something to cling onto to not do that. 

Ive started talking to this guy over a page on the internet. We have already decided to just be friends and wait and se what happens after we actually met. And im fine with that. I dont wanna rush into anything when im as fragile as i am right now. Yet im sure im falling for him at times. Like I wanna talk to him all the time. I stalk his instagram and facebook and other pages to se what hes up to. And when i se that he have liked a picture of other girls, my chest hurt. But then the next time i dont feel anything at all? Like sure we have talked about sex and such and im basically his slave, but that doesn't mean i have anything to say. One of the first things he said when we started talking about it is that im free to do whomever i please when im not around him. And of course the same goes for him. Even tho im as mono as a human person can be. Yet he makes it seem like he just want to be with me even tho his sex-drive is out the roof? 

The best thing with this guy is that he respects me and seem to be honest about things. If i answer something stupid he still answer the questions (most of the time). He cares alot about my mental health. Alot more then ive ever done. Or anyone else have to be honest. Hes a really sweet funny guy. He takes time out of his free time to talk with me and to learn me how too play league of legends, just so we can play together. He praises me when i do good things, and he dont scold me when i fuck up in any shape or form. Hes patient whit my negativity and self hatred. He tries to help me get better. He makes me feel good looking at times and he makes me smile and laugh even when i feel like shit. And im starting to crave for his attention more and more for each day that pass. But yet again, i dont think its a crush? But i have no idea what else to call it. 

He have in just some weeks sneaked his way into my head and broken down the walls one by one and gotten me to open up about things i thought id never tell anyone (and that is making me raise my guard even more cause i have no idea how to act). He have gained my trust in no time at all. Not fully but its not far from it. And just that is a huge achievement, seing how i barely trust my friends ive known my whole life. I dont feel like i deserve him in any kind of way. But yea i dont think i deserve anything or anyone. 

Then there is this really nice sad guy ive just talked with for a few days. I feel like i can be myself when i talk to him. Hes kinda cute, nice and all. The typical guy i know i tend to fall for. Thing is, hes 19. And i know age is just a number but its setting me off so badly. And he seems so sensitive. I feel like if i stay around ill tip him over the edge that hes already balancing on. But i dont want to stop talking to him. He said hes happy i listen when he opens up and hes happy that we talk. But i dont know. I feel like im setting him off by telling him about things. And i haven't even opened up that much yet.. Barely cracked the lid. And i dont want to scare him away just cause im fucked up. 

And then we have my so called best friend that ive known since i turned 13. Everything changed after he and creepie broke up. He changed. He started lying about things before that but he never treated me bad until last year. The one person i trusted fully flipped the coin and turned into something and someone i dont know anymore. The one person i felt like i could actually talk to invited me over to stay with him for a week then, during the days i was at creepies place, decide that a tinder chick that he basically just want to fuck is more important then his (his own words) best friend? His best friend that took money she didnt have just to go and visit him cause HE was feeling depressed and hated being alone. So he changes his plans making me break down and get pissed off enough to jell at him. And he still to this day dont understand why i actually got mad, at least what i think. His new girlfriend is a really sweet girl. Hit it off with her directly. And she forced him to talk to me about it. He apologized about him acting like a cunt but something in his eyes made me feel like he still had no idea what he had done to me. What he had caused. I went to him  before new years. I was so nervous i had to take my anxiety pills. That should say it all. 

Ontop of all this shit AF is at my back about me getting a job. They thing i should get a job that basically marks me a Mentally broken person. Just cause i haven't been able to land a job yet. Just cause i cant the tom understand that i literally CANT work with anything unless i have a interest for it. They dont understand when i tell them im 110 % sure i have Asperger's. Ive also gotten the paper saying they are looking into it and that im in line for the next part of it. Yet they seem to think im just lazy and stubborn. 

But ey at least i got that going for me. The psychiatrist finally agreed with me. Almost 2 years later im finally getting somewhere with that. Just had to slip between the chairs 3 times before anything happened, but you know thats normal and can get brushed aside by saying sorry. At least thats what the three people i met think. They thought i had read up about it and knew what i was talking about at least. Of course i know what im talking about. I wouldnt be sitting there if i didnt. Ive lived with it my whole life. I just didnt realize it had a fucking name until my brother got the diagnose some years ago.  

Back to the topic males i guess.. Lately ive started talking to more and more males. I keep carving some sort of recognition. Even tho its not the right kind. All they do is want to put their dick in me, yet i keep talking to them, “flirting”. And i dont like that at all. Ive never needed someones acceptance before. Ive never craved for someone to lust for me either. I have no idea why im changing like this. I dont like it but i dont think i can stop it. I know its a new way for me to hurt myself. Ive basically switched cutting to sex. Just havent physically fucked anyone yet. And yea i still cutt when i cant handle my anxiety so. Guess i havent replaced it at all. Just added another bad habit. 

My parents are soon out on the road cause the state have taken their house and they cant get a apartment. All cause they where late on one payment. One fucking payment in 10 years. And thats enough for them to loose their home? They aint allowed to get a place with a rent higher then 5000 skr a month. There are literally no apartments for that low rent out there right now. They found a house outside of linköping that my dad fell inlove with, but its like 12000skr a month so they aint allowed to take that one. So in the end of next month my parents will most likely be living in a caravan on a friends garden. And my brother with his girlfriend and her parents. Cause thats totally a way to handle it. And cause of all this ive gotten to take the role as my moms shrink. Every time we meet its always something new she need to vent about. And i cant handle it. It makes me even more stressed about the situation then i already am. My life should be enough. I shouldnt have to handle hers aswell. But i cant say no to her. I cant open up to her about my problems cause shed break then. So ill just have to keep the mask up i guess and break down when i get home after every visit. 

Ive started working out abit aswell. I know ive lost some weight, i can even se it myself. Still i feel like i hate myself more and more for each day that comes. I feel like my life is never going to get better. I feel like im drowning. And i have no idea how long i can stay afloat. 

[brujalatina]

loyalty | 01

☆ pairing: yoongi x reader

☆ genre: angst, pining, jealousy, fluff, humor, future smut. producer au; reader is a model and a thotty lol

☆ word count: 3k

summary: First impressions are always important, and Yoongi never thought he’d be falling head over heels for you and your promiscuity. The problem was, you didn’t Do dating, nor desired it, and neither did he, until he met you.

→ part 01. → part 02.

a/n: this is for my black ‘n brown, not-skinny, curly-haired hoes cuz i’m tired of reading fics where the reader is described with white features and my black pussy can’t relate! :)) lmk what y’all think. also listen to loyalty by kendrick lamar ft. rihanna i think the song is fitting for this fic

Yoongi had never been a fan of parties. Really, he hated them.

They were messy, loud, and took time away from work. The time spent at a party was the time he could have been spending in his studio working on the production of a new piece of music. Parties deterred him from working, and as someone who was completely dedicated and committed to his music, he hated it.

Parties weren’t all bad, though. It allowed for Yoongi to form connections with other people within the music industry for opportunities to collaborate with them, or to form connections people involved with major media outlets that would help him gain more exposure (not that he needed any more than he already had). That is, if these connections weren’t wasted enough to carry a proper conversation regarding work at a party, which was almost rare. Sometimes Yoongi was lucky enough to make these connections at parties, but more often than not, people were too shit-faced to function.

Taking a swig of his Jack Daniel’s, Yoongi sighed as he tore his eyes away from potential connections among the crowd of dancing bodies and brought his attention back towards the song notebook he carried with him everywhere. In the midst of the party he had been attending, he was working on ideas for a new song he had promised he would help his friend and colleague, Hoseok, with. He was the reason he had been attending the party anyways—to form new connections, but most importantly, to have fun. Hoseok knew Yoongi almost rarely stepped out of his studio at home, so he dragged his best friend out to party at a club he had rented with the excuse of working on a new song between drinks. He felt that he had been doing Yoongi a favor by coercing him into attending this party, and Yoongi had always been weak for his best friend, so he no choice but to cave in. Needless to say, Yoongi was regretting allowing Hoseok to convince him to leave his studio for the party.

A large hand gripped Yoongi’s shoulder as they shoved their face in front of Yoongi’s, smile as bright as ever. “Hi! Sorry, I’m back.”

“Hobi,” Yoongi said, unamused. “You sure took your time.”

Removing his hand from Yoongi’s shoulder, he took a seat next to his best friend and ordered a drink, then turned to face him. “I was catching up with one of my party guests for the longest time, hadn’t seen him in a few months.” As he spoke, he spotted Yoongi’s notebook on the bar counter. “I told you to come have fun, not work.” He frowned.

Yoongi massaged his temples, annoyance clear in his features from not being able to work on the task at hand due to the heavy music resounding in the loft. “I know, but I wanted to get a head start on that song of yours that you’re stuck on.”

Hoseok smiled at this, touched that his best friend was taking his work so seriously for his sake, but not at all surprised. Yoongi took music, in general, quite seriously. “And I appreciate that—I do! but we can work on that tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to relax. You need it.”

Hoseok was right, when was the last time he had taken a break from work? Yoongi would have guessed that New Year’s Eve had been the last time he spent more than 24 hours outside of his studio, spending the holiday with his family instead. Not even on his birthday a month ago had he taken a break from work. He held so much love and dedication for his job that he felt he didn’t need breaks. Like people felt at peace through mediation, producing music made him feel euphoric and accomplished, and the feeling was addicting. Still, he did have to admit that the dark circles under his eyes from long nights working in his studio had only become darker. His weight had been reducing as well from skipped meals and his doctor had already reprimanded him for his malnutrition. Yes, Hoseok was absolutely right about him, as usual. He needed to take a break for once. Yoongi nodded and downed the rest of his drink. “Fine, you’re right. I’ll take a break. Just for tonight.”

Hoseok’s face beamed, relishing in the fact that Yoongi was being complacent with him, yet again. “Ok! Before anything, there are a few people here I’d like to introduce you to.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi’s arm and pulled him into the crowd of bodies that were either dancing or were engaged in conversation over the blaring music, introducing Yoongi to some new artists that had recently entered the music industry.

As Yoongi and Hoseok continued to search for more people to mingle with, Hoseok changed directions upon spotting a familiar curly head of hair in the distance and began walking towards it while Yoongi followed.

She had been leaving one of the empty rooms in the club, pulling down the ends of her red, deep, v-neck bodycon dress that had risen considerably over her thick thighs, almost exposing her entire ass, and then pulled her dress straps over her shoulder and adjusted her breasts in the least undisguised form possible. A man left the room behind her, they exchanged a few words—he was visibly upset—and she rolled her eyes at him as she shooed him away with her hand.

Hoseok walked up to her as Yoongi followed by his side. “Hey, Y/N! How are you doing?”

You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug in which he had quickly and warmly returned. “I’m great. Thanks for the invite, babe. It’s been some time since I’ve gone to a party with people that are...worth the while, if you get what I mean.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes at you, understanding what you had insinuated. “From what I just saw, it looked like you didn’t like him, though?”

You shrugged. “He was good, but I don’t like when guys get clingy and start asking when they can see me again. Not that fast, at least. Pathetic.”

He laughed heartily at this, you were the same Y/N as usual—talking shit about the men you fucked.

As you and Hoseok talked about your sexual activity right in front of Yoongi, Yoongi, who had been standing beside Hoseok the entire time, had been long forgotten. While listening to your conversation had been rather amusing, he cleared his throat to remind Hoseok of his presence, which seemed to do the trick.

“Oh, right, Y/N, this is my friend, SUGA PD,” he gestured to Yoongi. “SUGA, this is my friend, Y/N.”

For the first time that night, Yoongi’s eyes locked with yours, and to him, it felt as though your brown irises were piercing into his flesh. Hoseok had mentioned a Y/N in the past—you were one of his closest friends, so naturally, your name came up occasionally in conversation. Based on what Hoseok had already told him about you, you were a model under their rival company but had recently switched to model under Hoseok and Yoongi’s company. Although the two of you were close friends, Hoseok had previously described you as, “so beautiful it hurts”, and “to die for”. Back then, Yoongi thought his friend had been exaggerating, which was not unusual on his part, but damn, the guy wasn’t kidding. You weren’t just beautiful, your beauty was enthralling—not to mention how cool he thought you were for having a tattoo of hands holding constellations on your right forearm. From head to toe, you were stunning and exuded a powerful aura that radiated confidence and made Yoongi’s spine tingle. Knowing your profession as a model, having some semblance of self-confidence was expected, but in that short moment he had met you, he knew yours exceeded the expected—not that he found anything wrong with that, it was just rare. This was the feature he found most captivating about you.

“Right, the famous SUGA PD. I have some of your music. It’s pretty tight.” You extended your hand to shake Yoongi’s, which had already been ready to shake yours before you suddenly retracted your hand and settled for a small wave while smiling sheepishly. It was then when Yoongi guessed you had avoided shaking hands with him because you had been using your hands for...other things that had taken place in the empty room just a few minutes prior. He took no offense to this and instead felt gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said, both in regards to your compliment and for your kind gesture in regards to sanitation. “Hoseok has mentioned you a few times,” he added, earning a light punch from Hoseok for exposing him.

You chuckled while curling a strand of hair around your finger, “All good things, I hope.” You weren’t going to lie, Yoongi was cute. You had seen him in pictures and in his music videos, but from up close he was fine. A fine ass piece of a man with beautiful, beautiful teeth. His skincare game was strong, too, which was something you both liked and admired in a person.

“I mean, I don’t have anything bad to say about you, Y/N. Especially since I know you’d kick my ass if I talked badly about you.” Hoseok scratched the back of his head, recalling a time in which you had, in fact, kicked his ass for drunkenly telling a mutual friend—who snitched on him to you, by the way—that you smelled like dick.

You clicked your tongue, recalling that time as well. “Talk shit, get hit. You know how it is.” You both laughed. “I’m under the same company as the both of you now. The company I was in treated me like complete shit, which I don’t take well, so I bounced.” Yoongi arched a brow, so you continued. “I mean, I was getting good money, but they talked down to me, which is an immediate strike in my book. I went off on this one dude in the company who thought he was big shit and said I was lacking, so I told him his dick was lacking, grody, and that it was a damn shame that he only lasted five minutes that one time I sucked him off, so he threatened to have me fired, but then I flipped him off and quit right on the spot.” You ended with a shrug and Yoongi’s mouth, as well as Hoseok’s, had fallen agape. Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

Yoongi was surprised by how frank you were being with him, considering how the both of you had only just met. You were sharp-tongued, smart-mouthed, vivacious, witty, and carried yourself with a confidence anyone would envy. Not forgetting to mention you were exhilarating in every form possible, from your beautiful curls, to your curvaceous body. It was especially your self-confidence and the way you carried yourself that had been enrapturing to him and probably to many others. Yoongi couldn’t help but feel goosebumps being in your very presence.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was accustomed to your antics. “Y/N...Jesus. I want to say I can’t believe it, but that was so Y/N-esque of you.” He shook his head as he clicked his tongue.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi blurted out. He hadn’t said much before—he had already been so tired from interacting with the other party guests that he had very little energy for social interaction left in him, so during the time he had met you, he had only uttered a few words. But for some reason, he suddenly felt like asking you a million-and-one questions. In the short time he had met you, he realized you were very interesting. And yeah, a lot of people are interesting, however, not to sound cliché, but you had something about you that stuck out to him. “He deserved that shit, honestly. I’m glad you told him off. Shit, I would have too. I think you’ll like it much better under our company.”

“‘What the fuck’ is right,” you laughed louder than usual, surprised by Yoongi’s sudden change in demeanor. You could tell he had gained a sudden interest, but was apprehensive to press on further about the subject. He was really cute and reserved, you noted, and his sudden change in behavior was also cute. “I hope so, hopping from company to company is fucking tiring.”

“Well, depends on what type of company you’re referring to,” Hoseok joked, earning an eye roll and a scoff from both you and Yoongi at the same time, which you both immediately caught and snickered over together. Hoseok’s eyebrow perked up at this interaction.  

“Anyways, I promised my friends I’d get plastered with them tonight and should probably go and find them. We’ll probably be seeing each other more often now, so take care of me,” You sing-songed and winked at Yoongi, earning a small, amused smirk from him in return.

“I will. It was nice meeting you, Y/N.” He smiled warmly, showing you those beautiful teeth again. This time, his smile was different. You knew he had taken an interest in you, but that wasn’t new for you. You had to admit, you were an interesting, complex person. But the way his demeanor had suddenly changed into something more charming had caught you slightly off-guard.

“Nice meeting you, too, Sugar.” You hugged him this time and didn’t miss how his body went rigid under your touch. “See you later, Hoseok.” You hugged Hoseok as well, adding a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Hoseok had grown accustomed to your hugs and cheek kisses throughout your friendship, so he thought nothing of it but knew Yoongi would probably ask questions later, considering the skinship he and you shared. “Call me if you need anything or if anything happens, ’kay?” He rubbed your back.

“Don’t worry, I’m a big girl. But thanks, babe.”

When you were out of sight, Yoongi still hadn’t moved from the spot where you had hugged him. You had left him, quite frankly, shook. When you hugged him, he noticed you smelled like roses and a hint of vanilla. And your arms, breasts, and torso pressed against him were warm, so warm, to the point where he almost missed your touch. You sent all of his senses on overdrive. He felt stupid for freezing up and not returning the hug and mentally chided himself—he had been in shock by the suddenness, after all. He also didn’t miss how you had called him “Sugar”, rather than “Suga”, in a way that resembled flirting.

Hoseok noticed Yoongi’s immobility and far-away expression. He was stunned. You had such a presence that it let everyone shaking in their boots, so Hoseok knew that his friend had been under your spell.

He put a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “Yoongi, you okay?” He laughed.

Yoongi quickly snapped out of it and returned to a state of normalcy, dragging a hand over his face. “Yeah, I just—wow.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“Incredible.”

Hoseok eyed his best friend carefully, it wasn’t always that Yoongi reacted so strongly to the presence or existence of a woman or man.

“She’s fucking hilarious and seems a bit intimidating, but she’s a good person and a great friend.” Yoongi nodded, not quite looking at Hoseok and once again drifting out of focus. “And she’s phenomenal in bed,” he added.

And Yoongi’s attention had returned, eyes snapping back to Hoseok. “You’ve had sex with her? Wait, so are you both a thing? She calls you ‘babe’.”

“Nah, we’re best friends who had sex together once, well, maybe twice and I kind of had feelings for her for some time? but she made it clear that she doesn’t date, just prefers to sleep around.” Hoseok noticed the way Yoongi held his attention onto him, the faint look of hope that had flashed in his eyes diminishing. A sigh escaped Hoseok’s lips. “Unless you just want sex, don’t even look at her, Yoongi.”

Yoongi felt a bit disappointed knowing this fact, and for what? He didn’t date either and had decided to instead dedicate his time and expend his energy into his music, at least until he felt ready to date. The people he had dated in the past had used him for his money and fame, and left him wallowing in his own hurt. The people he had dated prior to his fame had used him for his kindness and then fucked him over. These instances that had left him wounded had made him apprehensive of romantic relationships. And who knew which kind of person you would be? What he did know was that he couldn’t take the risk of finding out. When things went well with someone, his apprehension and self-doubt would get the best of him and he would end things before they got serious. Besides, he knew that he would be far too occupied with his own work to have a proper and fair relationship with his significant other. If he was going to be with someone, he wanted to give his all into their relationship; they didn’t deserve having to wait around for him, they didn’t deserve to be dragged into a relationship that was tedious and disappointing. Dating you was out of the question anyways, considering you only messed around. No matter how interesting, hilarious, or enrapturing you had been, it just was not possible. Besides, even if you did date, Yoongi would have probably fucked up somehow and chickened out along the way of trying to become something with you like he usually did with the women and men he felt attraction to. Dating was scary. Why was he even thinking about this in the first place?

He shook the thought of dating out of his head. “I need a shot.” He decided.

#yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #min yoongi #suga #suga fic #suga angst #suga smut #suga fanfic #bts #bts fic #bangtan fic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #suga scenario #bts scenarios #these tags are so obnoxious fam i cant im cringing as i type these #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #suga fanfiction #bts au #suga au #yoongi au #my writing #mine