#tw depressive thoughts

[themindofmine]

I don’t want to hurt people with my death

Instead I hurt myself with my existence

#mental health #thoughts #deep thoughts #kinda depressing #tw depression #deep feelings #deeptalk #tw vent #mentally tired #mentally exhausted #dead inside #own thoughts #tw sui ideation #tw depressive thoughts

[hazelhearts]

We'll Be Alright

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

summary: love takes time, especially when the person you love hurts you in the worst way possible

content/warnings: suicidal thoughts, depressive thoughts, miscommunication trope, wandavision, heartbreak

note/request: ahh my first wanda fic! it's been a long time coming. i put so much of myself into this one so I hope you guys love it as much as I do. warning, it hurts bad.

word count: 2.1k words

masterlist

Staying behind on missions had been a pretty normal thing for you over the past couple of weeks. You could listen to the dumb reasons Tony talked about for hours and hours every day, but the simpler thought is that he's an ass.

Usually Wanda would insist on staying back with you, but she didn't say a word this time. You assumed it was because of Vision. Things have gotten pretty tense between them the past couple of days, and sadly it wasn't the bad kind of tense.

Anyone with eyes could see that Wanda was gorgeous. But beyond that she was kind, compassionate, independent, and knew what she wanted. Not many people could say that these days. Especially not the clump of metal that's been trying to win her over.

Loving Wanda was honestly one of the worst things you could have ever done for yourself. She's been an emotional rock since Pietro, barely letting anyone in. You had only recently broken down some of the barriers, able to convince her to hang out with you. Most of the time it was just sitting silently in each others presence, but that was enough for you.

As the thoughts continued to run through your head, your phone suddenly rang. It took a couple of rings to really gain your attention, but the caller ID made you pick up so fast that it didn't really matter.

"Wanda?"

"Hey Y/N, um Tony wanted me to tell you to make sure that you washed the dishes. Something about how you kept skipping your assigned days?" The joy of talking to Wanda was always dulled by the mention of stick up his ass Stark. Sure you'd skipped a couple of days, but Thor loved doing them! He said that they didn't have to do it in Asgard and that it was one of his favorite mortal pastimes.

"Yeah, tell the asshole that they'll be done. But not because he wants me to, because I wanna eat dinner at some point tonight and the man doesn't touch a dirty dish." Wanda's laugh made the annoying remark worth it, the image of her smile making you grin like an idiot.

"Okay well that's all. See you later." She hung up before you could get out another word. Damn, so much for trying to be smooth Y/N.

----------

The team returned about two hours later, minimal injuries across the board. Wanda seemed to be the worse off. If you looked really closely, you could see a slight limp.

"Wanda-"

"C'mon, let's patch you up." If you weren't in front of the entire team, you'd crush that tin man into a cube and ship him to the nearest manufacturing facility.

Wanda and Vision walked into her room, practically staring into each other's souls. You were disgusted by the pda, that's all. Right?

"Stark, what's on the menu tonight?" Steve received a glare that was probably supposed to be intimidating but ended up making him look constipated.

"Whatever I put on the table. Now scram, or no one gets fed." You had never seen so many full-grown adults run out of a room at the same time.

You stopped in front of Wanda's room hoping the asshole of a robot was gone. For once, your wish was granted.

"Wands?" You lightly knocked on the door frame to keep from startling her. She nodded her head at you, as distant as ever.

"Wanna watch a movie? I picked out a few I thought you'd like." You knew there was too much hope in your voice but you couldn't help it. Since the titanium twat waffle showed up, you barely ever had a moment alone with Wanda.

"I'm sorry Y/N. Vision and I were actually going to do something tonight. Maybe some other time?" You forced the smile to stay on your face, refusing to show her any negative emotions.

"Oh yeah, sure. Another time." You walked out without another word, debating on asking Tony to deactivate the thorn in your side before you did it yourself.

----------

You began to feel immune to the passing of days as you and Wands drifted further and further apart. Every second she wasn't on a mission was spent with Vision. Your heart broke more every day, if that was even possible.

The rest of the team had started to notice your absence. Even when you were with them physically, you were somewhere else. They knew that asking Wanda to read your mind was out of the question. You had clarified that the first time the idea was spoken. Since then, they've all worried in silence. Even shithead Stark was starting to worry about you.

The team (minus you, Wanda, and Vision) got together and put it to a vote. Who would be the one to check on you? None of them really wanted to since emotions were not their strong suit, but it had to be done. The vote ended in a tie between Nat and Steve. Steve, being the only one brave enough to actually do it, knocked on your door a few minutes later.

"Y/N? It's Steve. Can I come in?" No response.

"Y/N, give me some sign that you're alive." Nothing, yet again.

"Alright, I'm coming in." Steve opened the door and there you were, staring out the window.

There were dark bags under your eyes, dried tears splattered across your face, and a haze over your eyes that Steve hadn't ever seen before. Your clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks, as they probably hadn't. Your room was surprisingly clean, seeming as if no one had lived in it for quite a long time. It was true, since what you were doing wasn't really living.

"Y/N..." He knelt down next to the chair you were in, looking out the window. He knew you probably didn't want to talk, but you had to. No one had heard a single word come out of your mouth in months. Not even Wanda.

"Y/N/N, talk to me kid. I'm worried, Nat's worried, we're all worried. You haven't said a word in months, you barely eat, and you barely ever leave this room. I need you to talk to me." Your head turned towards Steve, absent look still present behind your eyes.

"Do you ever feel like the universe is plotting against you? Like, every time you find happiness, it comes in and squashes it?" Your voice was completely monotone apart from the scratch that showed just how unused it was.

"Kid, I should have been dead ages ago. I lost the woman I loved, the life I was living, and my best friend in what felt like a month to me. So yeah, I understand." Your head turned back to the window, but your eyes slowly focused more on the area around you.

"I'm just tired, Steve. I'm so damn tired. I'm tired of hurting, I'm tired of thinking, and honestly I think I'm even tired of living. Everything hurts." Steve's hand came up to rub your back, giving you the slightest bit of comfort.

"Well, let's wake you up. I know that there's no automatic remedy, but we can try can't we? How about you start with a nice shower, brushing your teeth, and changing out of these nasty clothes?" Your hand found Steve's on the armrest of the chair, giving it a light squeeze.

"Are you saying I stink Rogers?" You both let out a laugh, his much stronger than yours, but still a laugh. The first laugh you'd had in months. It felt good.

"God yes. You smell like a sewer. Now, go." Steve laughed as he left the room, and you got out of the chair.

----------

"Y/N/N! We missed you!" Thor practically ran to you and scooped you up into a hug, cutting off all of your oxygen.

"Can't- breathe. Thor, o-oxygen!"

"Shit! Sorry tiny." He finally let you go, your face slowly gaining back color. You smiled, really smiled.

"I might be tiny but that doesn't mean I can't beat the shit out of you blondie!" Everyone laughed, happy to have a bit of the old Y/N back, no matter how little.

"I made breakfast!" Tony came around in his signature Kiss the Cook apron, a huge plate on pancakes holding on for dear life.

"God, you read my mind." You and the rest of the team rushed to the table, excited as ever to scarf down every bit of food within reach.

One thing you did happen to notice was Wanda. She sat next to you, as far away from Vision as possible. You dismissed it, trying not to get your hopes up as it didn't work out well at all last time.

You practically inhaled the food, finishing three plates in record time. You even beat Thor's personal record, pissing him off more than ever.

You saw Wanda approach you out of the corner of your eye, keeping your head facing down towards the sink. You were sure that these dishes had never been as thoroughly scrubbed as they were right then.

"Y/N? Can we talk?" You risked looking up at her, seeing only sadness behind those beautiful emerald eyes you loved. The sight made you want to throw up.

"Yeah sure, we can go to my room." You put the final dish away, leading Wanda towards your room and shutting the door behind you.

"Okay, what's up?" Before you could even fully turn around, Wanda collapsed into your arms. You grabbed onto her as tightly as you could, holding her as close to you as you could manage.

"I missed you. God, I missed you so much. I read your thoughts, I know you asked me not to, but I had to! You were never around and I was worried! I saw everything, everything about me." You were definitely going to puke.

"Oh god Wanda. You were never supposed to see that." You averted your eyes, unable to look at the woman you loved. You couldn't face her rejection when you were just starting to pick yourself back up.

"Y/N, look at me, please." She put her finger under your chin, raising your head enough to look into her eyes.

"I love you, I should have said it sooner. I just- I thought you could never feel the same way. You were always so fun and amazing, I never thought you'd want me. So, I went to Vision, trying to get over you. But it didn't work! I can't stop thinking about you, and I think you can't stop thinking about me either." The words you always wanted to hear were finally spoken to you, and all you felt was dread.

"Wanda, of course I still think about you. I can't help it. But I'm not in the place for a relationship right now. I just started trying to get myself back together. I just started recovering from the first time you broke me. I can't put myself through that again yet. No matter how much I love you, I need to love me for a while." Wanda slowly nodded her head, averting her eyes this time.

"It's not a no, it's a give me time. I don't wanna make you wait, but I can't do it. I love you Wanda, so much, and knowing you feel the same way about me? I'm over the moon. But I need time, time to gather all these thoughts I'm having and pull myself together." You grabbed Wanda's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I understand. I'm happy you're taking care of yourself." She smiled at you. You could tell it was forced, but you appreciated the effort.

"Do you think we can be friends, y'know, until you're ready?" You smiled right back at Wanda, yours much more sincere than hers.

"I would want nothing more. But, I do have one request."

"What might that be?" Wanda smirked, making you even more confident in what you were about to do.

"This." You kissed her. You poured every bit of love and care you had for her into the kiss, expressing all the words you couldn't say with the movements of your tongue and lips. Wanda kissed back just as passionately, love nearly drowning you.

You both knew that it would take time. You needed to heal, and Wanda did too. You'd both been through a lot, emotionally and mentally. But, until you got your happy ending, you could have her by your side supporting you in the same way she used to. That would be enough, for now.

----------

taglist form

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #mcu #marvel #mcu x reader #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #thor odinson #tony stark #vision #tw depressive thoughts #tw suicidal thoughts #miscommunication #wanda maximoff imagine #the scarlet with #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda imagine #elizabeth olsen

[nittroy]

Me and my frind are having a little drawing challenge going on, drawing lyric art for specific vibes This one is about 'Nightmare' by Hollywood Undead - the text on the picture is from the song ;w;

If you want to listen to the song:

I just love the Charlie Scene verse there, it's the one included in the picture-- I'm sorry I am cringe but 'so many selfish phobias like self-inflicted loneliness' is SO VEGA and just SO some of my characters I cann't Vega is a character kinda born from my experiences few years ago and while I got meds to help me she stayed somewhat in that depression state (at least, for the first part of the story. there's character development to be had) so it's somewhat easy and interest to write and reflect about! Vega has a pretty good job and lives in a megapolis (well, most of main office workers do,, those who don't have family esp, as you usually can't get more than a two-room apartment there) but her little apartment got transformed into a mancave and this was tried to be conveyed in this art also /lh Vega's first chapters are just seeing everything gray and not caring about shit. But then, they get dragged out on a travelling mission and they have to try and do something about it all due to sudden change of scenery And oh well They will be trying-

#da_nt #OC: Vega #my ocs #my art #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #depressing shit #tw depressive thoughts #tw depression #hopefully I tagged well (it's the tw-s I've seen around) but feel free to notify me if I should add anything!! #Sorry I'm bad at social media but I'm trying ;w;

[aylapaine]

This week, I went to all my classes.

It wasn't easy, and I felt like quitting several times.

My life isn't magically fixed or switched to perfect, but I can't forget about it.

I sat and ate with someone without constantly worrying about appearing broken or damaged.

I think I can do this!

I didn't 2 minutes ago, and I might not tomorrow, but right now, I can say that I have survived.

I won't let a silly goose like me defeat myself.

This broken pot still holds water🏺

#me #oof my heart #the amazing devil #mental health #recovery #tw depressive thoughts

[phantomguild]

Figured I may as well do something for the Bad End AU drawpile that @ask-the-royal-absol is doing. (Sorry about the lack of activity on my blogs lately, my back is still in agony atm)

These three are the only survivors of a devastated world, and even then, they haven't come out of it unscathed, as is clearly evident.

Info about the events of this AU as well as each of them in particular under the cut, just keep in mind any applicable trigger warnings in the tags. If I need to tag this with anything else, just let me know.

And just a following heads up that this gets pretty dark, especially as far as this blog's standards go so far.

It was over faster than anyone had anticipated. Not even Gracia Village's fog barrier could stop the spreading roots of Hollow. All of the Gods had either been slain or devoured, twisted into puppets, empty shells void of all but malice. In the trio's attempt to flee, the Time Gear that was kept under the square, entrusted to Acacia by Aster, was broken, and with it, any chance the three of them might've had at averting this nightmarish fate.

Acacia desperately attempted to repair the Time Gear. With the others guarded by their former allies, empowered by their transformation, and even with the three of them against a single one, attempting to retrieve any one of the Time Gears was a lost cause. Of course, repairing this one was ultimately fruitless. She lacked the divine power she needed to restore it. And without the presence of Dialga's divine power over Time to stabilize her own unstable power, her corruption, which she'd barely averted the last time, began to take root once again. The tempting whispers had returned in full force, taunting her with a future she could no longer have, slowly breaking down her heart and mind.

Cherry, with all her scientific and mechanical skill, couldn't have stopped it even if she'd had years to prepare. There was just too many of them... As well, the Regihollow, as she'd called it, was one of the few things that awoke her primal fear. Even being amalgamated from what she could salvage, her body knew on some instinctive level... that abomination had killed her. Her will cracking under the strain of her body screaming at her to run, she'd complied. With her tail between her legs and fearing for her life, she ran, even though she was one of the few that actually had the potential to match its power... All that was in her mind, was true fear.

Without anyone to rekindle her hope, to give her even a single spark, and with no way to reach the others she'd befriended, Mint slowly began to lose her willpower. Her hopelessness, in combination with the seeds of Hollow planted within her heart, began to fuel her own corruption. She'd watched her mentor perish before her eyes, engulfing her hope in a blaze of hate. Finally, that hate had died down, burnt out from her lack of energy, leaving nothing but emptiness and despair... Part of her wished to return to the forest where she'd had such a pleasant dream. Even if it was a farce, a counterfeit formed from her most idealistic wishes, she could at least be happy in the fog.

In the end, the three of them fell as well. And with them, so did any glimmer of hope that remained.

The world was devoured, and soon enough its new Master broke free of their shackles to annihilate whatever remained on its surface...

#tw death mention #tw depressive thoughts #badendpokeaskau #mint / zigdreepy #acacia / shaymin #cherry / rockruff

[the-last-doppelganger]

Closed starter for @ladamedemartel

She moved hollowly within the room. The witches chanting somewhere behind her. Their hands dipped in large bowls of her blood. She was barely aware of where she was going, feet leading her as far from the witches as she could get. Out onto the balcony which looked over a well manicured garden.

Distantly, Elena noted there was something very artificial about it, just like this place. The Strix, she thought, a society of vampires that wanted to kill Klaus, or at least the Originals, had gotten her from- well, she didn't exactly remember when. Or how. She was sure someone had compelled her to forget. It had been after Finn had died though.

While being here wasn't pleasing, not when they took more blood than Klaus ever did, she wondered if it wasn't better. This way, Klaus would be more focused on looking for her rather than killing anyone else. Her friends would search, but a vampire named Aya had told her that any locator spell would simply show them that she was dead.

Klaus would throw a tantrum, she was sure, but she knew Damon, Bonnie and Caroline would protect Jeremy, Matt and Alaric. Maybe even Stefan. She thought of them most often, all the time even. Things that were long past and no longer made sense; Bonnie's favourite colour and Jeremy favourite brownies. She hoped that they'd grieve her and move on, she was better off dead. Better off sealed in a gilded tower, where she would bring no misery to anyone, and wouldn't care if she did.

The echoes of footsteps brought her out of her reverie, and she looked up, expecting Aya or one of the witches. How much more blood could she give before they drained her dry? She wasn't sure - well, she was. But Klaus had drained her in one go, one tear of her throat and a few minutes before she was dead.

It wasn't any of them however. This woman was new, red haired, with green eyes that seemed to stand out. There was something elegant, almost regal about her, and Elena knew she was a vampire. Probably an older one, with the way she effortlessly took up space. Power hiding beneath grace.

There was something different there too, a quality she couldn't quite put her finger on. "Hey," her voice felt flat and she cleared her throat, feeling underdressed in her henley and jeans, her worn sneakers. "Am I not supposed to be here?" There was something shameful about it, the way she had given up. She'd daggered two originals, had almost helped kill Klaus so many times, yet the fight seemed to have left her.

Was there any point in fighting when she was surrounded by vampires and witches though? They needed her alive, but alive wasn't the same thing as awake, as had been pointed out to her earlier on. "Or did you need something?"

#ladamedemartel #dw elena's got plenty fight left in her #tw depressive thoughts #hope this is okay #i can change it if not

[windy-trickster]

TW for: Drug mention, serial killers/murders, poisoning, depressive thoughts I don't know if I've ever explained the Fukaii "BLOODLUST" curse or not. It all started with Tokoki's Ancestor, Her Beloved Genocide [Also known as the "Datura Maiden" <- Something I will touch on later]. HBG was, by all means, a cold blooded serial killer, but not in some frantic, loud-mouthed psycho kind of way. She was cold and calculated thanks to the Light-Bound sway her bloodline partly possesses [Her actual personal aspect is in fact Blood instead of Light like Tokoki]. She used her wits and beauty to lure people into a false sense of security before poisoning them with datura tea. Now "datura" is a rather dangerous flower, ingesting too much can cause a lot of negative side effects like hallucinations, confusion, amnesia, etc etc. I won't go too further into this since I don't wanna accidentally like... Trigger someone or something. The whole BLOODLUST curse all started with HBG making a pack with a malicious entity that she believed only SHE could see and SHE could interact with. If she gave up the freedom of her entire line to the entity, they'd grant her eternal life. Now HBG wasn't stupid, she could tell a liar from an honest being. So she accepted the entity's deal and was given exactly what the entity promised her. Eternal life. And all it took was given up the freedom of her entire linage. And it's what Tokoki suffers with today. "Koi" is basically like- A representation of said entity, or well- Koi is more so the ACTUAL entit taking control of her and using her to commit these crimes that she doesn't want to commit. Tokoki has already suffered quite a lot before all of this curse shit ever started. She was one of the many female Fuchsias who was assigned to be a spare for Narcis in the event she were to get killed off or something like that, but do to Tokoki being so different from the other spares, she was constantly bullied and pushed around. Tokoki basically forced herself to act and think like the others to help herself fit in. She's had trouble keeping relationships and friendships, etc etc. Her biggest problem is sadly the entity that dwells within her, taking control of her brain and using her body to do whatever it wants to really. The only troll in her line who somehow managed to avoid this curse is Tokoki's Dancestor, Chiyeu, who is... Dead. Since she's a Dancestor n all. If you ask Tokoki about it, she'll be reluctant to tell you but eventually she'll give in and explain what she knows.

#windy talks #ooc #lore dump #tokoki fukaii #drugs #tw drugs #murder #tw murder #poisoning #tw poisoning #depressive thoughts #tw depressive thoughts #long post

[trashbins-stuff]

a full analysis on why i think mephone4 have bpd (and possibly ptsd)

TW: mention of sh, depressive thoughts, child-abuse. Please don't read if any of these things trigger you!

fear of abandonment:

-so, i think after he saw what happen to 3gs they became afraid that one day he would be scrapped, be left behind, be abandon so he ran away from the meeple before they get abandon.

unstable relationship and anger issue:

-his relationship with people r very unstable, for example he doesn't like toilet but view did him as trustworthy and after toilet give them the Gemory back he even say thank to toilet! which he haven't done before

this is the start of them starting to appreciate toilet more but the moment toilet mention A.D.A.M his mood immediately switch to panic and this is where the mood swing and explosive anger occur

in ss3 ep 6 "try not to laugh challenge" they got angry at the contestant for not seeing a silly little note, so much that he ban laughing:

unstable self-image:

-he was made to be a weapon, from what we heard, Cobs want to take over other planet and uses 3gs for it so he might want to use 4 as a weapon too. But what 4 really want to be is a reality show host so they ran away to do what they want. Also i like to think that after 4s give his body to him, 4 sometime think about who he was at night and cry alone :3. In addition to this, the first thing they got yelled at for is over food, so even tho he enjoy food he still feel guilty for liking it and call themself a fat slob so there's definitely some negative self-image here

disassociating and repressing:

-not wanting to remember bad memories, he repress, he flood it all out, he disassociate. They try to pretend none of it of it was real, they shove it out, they forget about it, if you can't remember then it's probably not important right?...

impulsivity:

-he impulsively ran away from the meeple not thinking ahead, he impulsively fire toilet in a fit of anger without consider toilets' words...etc

self-harm:

-binge eating, eat all your problems away! :)

mood swing:

-as we see above they immediately fire toilet after thanking him for the first time ever! but that's isn't the only moment, in ss3 ep 10"i am chocolate!" we see him happily look at his contestant

and when the floor mention how fast time is flying by they immediately went

emptiness:

-i mean if he keep deleting those memories he'll soon forget who he is too (another bonus point for unstable self-image :))

paranoia:

we can see above that they r very scared of anything associating with meeple or cobs which lead him to fire toilet and also there's this scene:

bonus, why mephone4 might have ptsd:

-they repress their memories and try avoiding thinking, going to places and meeting people (toilet) who remind him of it

-have negative thoughts about himself and other people

-they fire toilet so they won't get hurt again and actively avoid danger/violent, there's a post that explain more in-depth into this

-he probably get ptsd from child abuse, neglect and/or abandonment

that's all for now, i should really stop rambling, bye! :D

#bpd #borderline personality disoder #ptsd #c-ptsd #post traumatic stress disorder #mephone4 #ii mephone4 #depression #tw depression #tw self-harm #tw depressive thoughts #tw child abuse #tw cobs #can you tell that i'm projecting? :)

[beerecordings]

Werewolf AU - Part 2

He had always thought that Jacob and Sara would change their minds at the last minute: that they would get pregnant, like they wanted, and realize that they couldn't move back closer to their family after all. That was how he felt, from the first moment he smelled the pregnancy on her. He felt it with certainty. They couldn't go. They would stay with their pack, with him, their protection and comfort and real family, and have the baby where he could watch over it. Watch it grow. He was sure.

But they didn't. They struggled with the decision, he knows, but in the end they packed all their stuff up and moved away, taking the baby with them. He's never met the little guy, though he thinks it must be nearly a year old now. They send him pictures, but he doesn't like to look.

Breaking down crying as he said goodbye to them and swore that he'd always be there if they wanted to come home: that was the first time the rest of the pack started to look at him like there was something wrong with him. It gave him the same choking feeling he used to get as a kid when he would say something he thought was normal and his parents would turn to stare at him like a fairy had taken off with their real kid and left this weird little impostor in his place.

It's usually painful to think about, that missing pup that should have been his pack.

But these two new wolves?

May as well be new pups themselves.

And damn, it's funny.

Jackie's trying not to laugh as Sean pins the American kid with the chocolate smell down for the third time, patiently explaining to a halfway-panicking newbie how to escape a grip like this. Sean always has major points he hits in his lessons, but his curriculum changes with every class. Asked what they wanted to learn about first, Henrik and Chase had both exchanged nervous glances and asked about self-defense, which Sean was all too happy to school them in.

“Wolves do fight a little differently than humans even in human form,” Sean explains cheerfully, Chase writhing beneath his grip and yelping. “The goal with wolves is often to get their teeth at the other's throat. I won't do that to you, of course, but you can see how I could lean in and bite you. Once another wolf gets his teeth in your neck, human or wolf form, you're going to lose your ability to fight immediately.”

“That can happen?” wheezes Chase, shoving at Sean's chest.

“It's a very intense feeling of helplessness. You'll likely go limp. At that point, you've submitted, and the other wolf will very likely end the fight. It can be humiliating – but then again, if you can't win, it can be safer just to bare your neck and let that happen.”

“What about getting attacked by a wolf in his real form?” asks Henrik softly.

Sean releases Chase, patting his back good-naturedly as he gets off him. “The truth is, guys, that while I know very well how kick-ass turned wolves can be, I never recommend that turned wolves get into fights with born wolves. Take Marvin and Jackie, for instance: since they were born, they've shifted between human and wolf probably once a day at least. They have spent hundreds of hours in the body of a wolf. They've play-wrestled, run, hunted, and just grown comfortable with their wolf forms since they were tiny. A turned wolf has to work very hard to keep up with that level of skill in wolf form.”

Henrik curls slightly in on himself, mouth drawn in a thin line. “So we're just helpless?”

“Not helpless,” Sean promises. “On Tuesday, we'll practice shifting into wolf form, and once you guys are comfortable with that, I'll show you some defense techniques.”

What Sean isn't saying, Jackie knows, is that this is the exact reason turned wolves need pack so badly. They need born wolves to protect them when things go south. He hopes they find a good, strong pack, maybe one that will take both of them in together. If he still had a pack – if he was still the person he was last year – he would have welcomed two new wolves without hesitation. He can't do that for them now, of course. They need to find a good strong pack with a real Alpha who can actually look after them.

But in the meantime, he wouldn't mind walking them home if they'd like. He's still a damn good fighter, all else considered, and he still gets hankerings to beat up somebody for messing with his friends.

“How did you feel being pinned down?” Sean asks.

Chase laughs nervously. “Um. It feels tight. Closed-off. Makes me kind of scared.”

“With a wolf you don't trust, getting pinned down like that is really unbearable,” Sean tells him, helping him to his feet. “It's a new instinct. You'll find you have an aversion to small spaces, loud noises, strangers. Even being confined to your own house can be too much.”

Sean starts passing out papers and talking the newbies through the basics, like how their diets will change and some of the things that are normal as opposed to what's concerning.

Yes, you might crave raw meat. No, don't actually eat it unless you're in wolf form.

Please don't try to shift until I teach you how. You need to be supervised your first time or you could make yourself feral.

Good question. Yes, going feral is real, if over-stated by the media. Your friends and pack can usually pull you back from that. In the meantime, you can get stuck in the headspace of a real wolf, and no, you don't want that. Some fringe werewolves try to live like that, and that's their choice, but it's a rejection of your other half, and you aren't one self anymore, you're two.

“What's that like?” asks Henrik.

Sean nods slowly, considering his answer. “I don't have personal experience,” he says. “Anyone in the room have any experience?”

He's such a sweet guy. Won't out either of them, but he knows very well Jackie's been feral before. He sits forward in his chair, smiling at the new wolves.

“Becoming feral is what happens when you get to be in so much pain in your day-to-day as a human that you end up giving full control to the wolf part of yourself, and then you can't get it back. Everyone talks about it being very involuntary, but I found that there was a definite moment I just gave in to my urges. I felt like it was my only escape at the time. But then I couldn't get control back. I had lost track of what I was trying to get back to.

“Luckily, it only lasted a couple days before some of my cousins helped pull me back. A lot of different people helped me escape my situation and taught me some new coping techniques. I'm much happier now. But I remember the whole time I was feral with perfect clarity. There's a terrifying freedom to it. You can just be a wolf. You don't have to think. Just pure instinct. I hurt people. Didn't feel guilty til afterwards.”

He pauses, glancing over at Marvin, wondering if he said too much. His cousin just gives him a little smile. His Marv. Always trying to reassure him, even when he's grumpy.

“I'm past those problems now,” he says proudly.

That, however, makes something ugly curl through Marvin's scent for a second, makes something flash across his eyes. Jackie can't even guess at what that might be, so he doesn't address it.

“Is that something that will happen to me?” asks Henrik, turning to Sean with his fingers twisting together in his lap. “Maybe because I'm stuck here, and this is so new, and my body hurts? What if I'm feral the first time we try to shift? I haven't had good luck with these new instincts, I can't – ”

Jackie watches as Sean gets down on his knees in front of him and speaks to him in a low voice, drawing Henrik back from the edge of panic. “I'll be right here to help. Trust me, you'll know if you're starting to feel feral, and you can come right to me and I'll help you. I won't let anything happen, Schneep. You've got more control than you give yourself credit for, remember?”

Jackie shivers. Henrik's distress is so strong in the air it makes him want to get to his feet, maybe pace the outside of the building and check that no one's there, challenging the territory lines of Sean's place.

He needs to talk to Sean about this wolf that attacked them. It can't happen to somebody else. It just can't. Not only because it makes them all look so bad, rakes them over the coals in the press for weeks, but also because this hurt and terror will change Henrik's life just as permanently as the actual transformation.

How can any wolf do that to someone who doesn't want it?

Sean goes back to answering questions, and Jackie's honestly spacing out until he hears Chase go, “what's an Alpha?”

Sean's eyes snap right over to him, too. Jackie smiles blandly at him, but doesn't speak up to answer.

“An Alpha is the leader of a pack,” Sean explains, sitting beside him. “It's a role in a pack, one that comes with the most responsibility. By joining a pack, you agree to follow the lead of the Alpha.”

“So, like, your boss?”

Sean laughs. “Well, no. Your boss pays you and you work for them. It's a business relationship. Pack is like family... but with werewolf instincts thrown in.”

“So, like, my dad?”

“Chase! No! You're fucking with me, shut up.”

Chase cackles. “You can't tell me to shut up, you're on the clock!”

“Jackass, you think I get paid by the hour? Shut your trap! You want to get pinned down again!”

“Fine, fine!”

“Look, having an Alpha is a really unique bond. You have to trust that person not just with your life, but with your loyalty. You'll feel compelled to follow them in a very instinctual way. In return, they're compelled to protect and care for you, to help you and the pack thrive. That's why we get problems with some of them becoming cult-ish, honestly. It is absolutely vital that you do not join a pack unless you trust that Alpha with your whole fucking heart. It can be really hard to extricate yourself if you realize they don't have your best interests in mind. Hey, serious talk time, okay? The two of you will have very strong instincts to find a pack right now, because you're new and you're isolated and I know you want to feel safe. But you have to be careful before you let yourself get attached to any werewolf packs. There are lots of good packs and good Alphas, but picking the wrong one... that hurts. So both of you promise me you'll come to me if you start to feel like you're in over your heads, okay?”

“Okay,” Chase promises quietly, cowed by the severity of Sean's tone.

“Don't worry,” says Henrik dryly. “I'm not looking to socialize with any more strange wolves.”

Sean claps them both on the shoulder. “Okay. Serious talk over. Where'd you hear about Alphas, Chase?”

Chase's smell changes instantly. “Oh. Um. Just here and there, I guess.”

He must not realize everyone can smell that he's lying. But nobody pushes it.

“Well, guys, my lessons are usually more active than just talking, but until we're all a little more healed-up, things might be a little tame. For now, I want to talk about scenting.”

And he doesn't mean to be rude, but honest to God, Jackie thinks that watching Sean encourage a couple shy new wolves to rub their scents all over the blankets he gives them and then seeing them look so pleased when they can, in fact, smell themselves there – that's the cutest shit he's ever seen.

“Don't be embarrassed about the scenting stuff,” Sean tells them warmly. “Humans are just jealous they can't smell like we can. They can only just smell that we're even werewolves.”

The newbies launch into questions about things they've smelled, and Sean answers them all before making Marv play kid's scent games with them. Jackie watches in amusement as his cousin begrudgingly agrees to play scent-and-seek, and then to will his emotions into his scent, listening to Henrik and Chase try to guess what he's feeling, increasingly astonished by their own ability to tell. Sean teaches them the smell of wolfsbane with a tiny vial of the stuff he keeps for just that purpose, and Chase and Henrik stare wide-eyed as Marv tells them a story about how someone tried to poison him with the stuff on two different occasions, so they have to be alert. Jackie thinks they could go for hours just listening to Sean and Marv, but by the time eight-thirty rolls around, the newer of the two wolves has begun sinking in his seat, his eyelids heavy. He smells like fatigue.

“Time to call it a night,” says Sean. “Chase, I'd like you to come a half-hour early on Tuesday for our one-on-one, okay? And hey, man... no drinking. I won't certify you if I catch a whiff of that stuff on you. This has to be about every kind of control.”

Chase nods weakly, his head dropping. “Right.”

“All of you have my number, I am on-call twenty-four seven. Text me or ring me up whenever, for anything you need.”

“That's healthy,” Jackie interrupts.

“Zip it! If I don't take your call, I'm in court or in the shower, and I'll call you back. I'm here to help, okay? Seriously. I challenge you to ask me anything weirder than the questions other werewolves have already asked me.”

“Does this affect sex?” asks Chase. Jackie's pretty sure he's just teasing Sean, but Sean doesn't pause.

“Do you actually want the answer to that or are you just ribbing me?”

Chase reddens slightly. “Um. I'm... just ribbing you?”

“Be here half an hour early next week and we'll see if you have the guts to ask me again, nerd-ass. Okay, guys, get home safe.”

Sean pauses Jackie in the doorway, offering a second hug. Jackie rumbles and pulls him in, pressing his nose into his neck for just a second.

“Drinks sometime, okay, big guy?”

“I'd love that,” he answers. “It's good to see you again, Sean.”

“Maybe you can get Chase home safe, too.”

“Way ahead of you.”

They grin at each other as they pull away, Sean disappearing back into his office as Jackie steps out into the alley by the grocery store, zipping his hoodie up.

“Can we go home now?” grouches Marv.

“Nope!” answers Jackie cheerfully. “Hey, Captain America!”

Chase turns around from the place where he's standing uncertainly on the sidewalk, blinking in the perfect silver light of the crescent moon.

“Lead the way, man. We'll walk you home.”

And if Chase's whole scent flushes with relief, well, Jackie won't say shit about it. Not like he minds too much himself. What does surprise him, though, is that Marvin doesn't say a word either. Doesn't even complain. He walks behind them on the sidewalk, giving Jackie an odd look as he leads the way instead of letting Chase show them, and his smell takes a curl that Jackie doesn't recognize and won't try to decipher. Too much energy to be guessing at secret messages. If Marvin needs him to know something, he'll tell him.

Marvin's the only one who can be trusted to do that. Everyone else is secret cruel thoughts and unspoken frustrations. Jackie hopes Chase finds a nice strong pack, with a wonderful Alpha, who takes care of him the way he deserves.

But for now, just for tonight, someone needs to walk him home, and Jackie is useful to another wolf once again, just for a moment, like he always used to be.

.

There really is something to this whole scent thing, Henrik thinks, as he gets upstairs and sinks down onto Sean's couch, in too much pain to flop down bonelessly the way he wants to. As a human, his blankets only ever smelled like warmth and sweat if he left them unwashed for too long, but as a wolf... hell, he can smell everything. Sean gave him this blanket yesterday night when he came home from the hospital, and all he's been able to do since then is cling to it: to the coffee and flame smell of another wolf who's cared for him, to the smell of green apple laundry detergent and the dust of the closet, to a spot in one corner where someone spilled beer on it, to his own smell, rubbed into the blankets. Last night it was just blood and gauze. Today... maybe he smells a little like lemon?

He presses the blanket into his face, letting out a shaky sigh.

“How about some dinner, man?” offers Sean, padding into the room behind him. “You're not looking so hot.”

He's not feeling so hot, either, but he can't fathom eating right now. Wraps his arms around his stomach and shakes his head. “No, thank you.”

“Another painkiller, then. You're due for one or two.”

He shakes his head.

“Doc, you're hurting. Why don't you take one with a little snack and get some sleep?”

“I can't take painkillers like this. Maybe some Ibuprofen, but not those heavy-duty ones.”

“Why not?” He hugs his stomach, pulling the blanket around him. “I just want to go to sleep, okay?”

Sean looks at him for a long second, but he doesn't press.

“Whatever you need,” he says finally. “I'm just in my room. Would you rather have the bed? That couch is a little rough to sleep on.”

He'd offered last night too. He's been so careful with him, so patient, helping him limp up the stairs without judgement. When Henrik woke up from a nightmare with tears dripping down his face, Sean was already sitting there beside the couch, as though guarding him, and he had stayed there until Henrik went back to sleep. Wordless.

“Do you think I would be feral right now without you?” he whispers, unable to look up at Sean.

There's a long pause. Sean sits down beside him on the couch. Henrik wants so badly to lean into his side, to soak in his warmth and his smell, but that's not a normal thing to do. He needs to stay in control. He won't let this change him.

“I don't know,” Sean says finally. His voice is heavy, weary. “That's part of the reason I started the on-call program at the hospital. It's not... impossible, for a freshly-turned wolf to go feral. But you didn't even shift, Schneep. You went right to sleep. I think you would have been okay.”

He thinks, but he doesn't know. Henrik could really just be an animal right now, like the bigger of those two wolves said. He could be hurting people, and not even feeling bad for it. That's the reality of his life now. If he loses control, he could hurt people. Like that wolf did to him. That monster.

“Why did he do this to me?” he says, and his voice is even lower than a whisper now, so soft he's not sure Sean can hear. “Do all wolves... want to bite humans? To turn them?”

“No.” This Sean says without hesitating. “No, Henrik, this is really unusual. Most wolves alive are born, not turned. We understand from the time we're young that being a werewolf is both a privilege and a curse, and we do not take that lightly. We turn only those who are closest to us, when they've had long months or years to decide that they want to join us in this life. Most wolves have no desire at all to turn humans. What he did... it wasn't instinctual. I don't know why.”

“Chase said he abducted him. That he made him submit.”

Sean shrugs weakly. “I don't know what that's about. Even wolves who become obsessed with making other wolves submit – they don't turn humans to make them do the same. I've never heard of it. I think this wolf must be pretty fucked in the head, Schneep. I'm sorry.”

“Are they going to catch him?” he whimpers. “Will he... come back for me?”

Sean touches his arm. “Henrik. You are totally safe here with me, okay? And with Jackie and Marv. They're good friends. If the police don't catch him, we'll figure something out. Even if that's just shipping you back to Germany. He hasn't come for Chase in four weeks, and I've kept my eye out. We have no reason to think he'll come back for you, right?”

“Right. Yes, okay.”

“Take a painkiller, Doc, please? You look really sick.”

“I just want to sleep, Sean.”

“Some melatonin, then?”

He shakes his head. Sean sighs, rubbing his shoulder.

“You have more control than you think you do, Schneep. I'm sorry someone taught you that this is the worst thing that can happen to you, but it's not, man. And even if it were, I'd still be right here, doing everything I could to make it easier.”

Henrik nods. “Thank you.”

“Good night, brother.”

“Good night, Sean.”

He lies down as Sean leaves, staring at the watermark on the ceiling, listening to the rattle of the heater, surrounded by scents. He's never been anywhere like this before, really. He doesn't like to admit he's always been kind of spoiled, but he can't remember ever having to sleep on a couch. Even as a kid, his sleepovers with friends or relatives always involved guest rooms or bunkbeds. In college and med school, his parents paid for him to have his own apartment, paid for his groceries and books and bills, and all he did in those days was excel. All he's done for years now is excel. Any A he wants, any job he wants, anything he wants, he gets it. He was smarter and more well-funded than any of his classmates, and he always knew it. The proof was in his grants, his acceptance letters, his accolades, his published papers, his near-perfect surgery record. So you can call him a spoiled brat if you want, but nobody on this earth could deny that he was a damn good surgeon, and probably a genius to boot.

Until now.

Now he doesn't know what people are saying about him.

He pulls his blanket tighter around him with, shuddering.

Despite being taken to the same hospital where he had been employed for two months, he hasn't heard anything from a single coworker there, not a single text or call or email. Nobody's paged him either, meaning he was taken off the work schedule without anybody checking in with him. He's not told his parents or his sisters. He's not told anyone.

He just wants this to not have happened. He just wants to wake up.

He squeezes his hand into a tight fist, straining the stitched wound on the inside of his palm where he raised his hand against flashing claws and teeth. The nerves underneath are damaged. He doesn't know if he'll ever work again.

He takes a long breath, letting it slide out through his teeth. How can he sleep when everything is so far out of his control? He feels like a five-year-old again, screaming for relief in his hospital bed, and despite the years that have passed and the distance he feels from her, he has a sudden and terrible ache for his mother to come pick him up and rock him into sleep.

He buries his face in Sean's blankets. The soft merging of their smells, hot coffee as you watch the tide coming up the beach, is the last comfort he's clinging to.

.

Tequila. Dish soap. Sweat.

“Werewolves can just drink like that, huh?” shouts the guy with his hands on Marvin's hips. “It's impressive.”

Leather, fabric, hair product. Petrol on his hands; he must have filled up his gas earlier.

Marvin throws back his shot, laughing as he finishes it, and bites into his lime with relish. “Werewolves have the same tolerance as everybody else, pretty boy. I'm just Irish.”

“Oh, I'm the pretty boy?”

“I know I'm pretty. Don't need you to tell me. But you can leave your hands right there.”

A sweet cologne: bergamot and citrus. Yum.

Marvin backs him into the darkest corner of the club he can find, pressing their mouths together and letting him rock him in time with the shitty music, so loud his ears ring a little. He laughs against his lips, heart pounding from the mix of sounds and drinks and a million different smells all filling him up like something narcotic. It's glowstick night and there are no strobes and no flashing lights, just the heat of a hundred packed bodies and alcohol flowing like the wedding of Cana. This is exactly what he needs after the last couple weeks. He's going to go home with this whoever-he-is and just –

“Marvin! Marvin!”

The hand on his back is frantic and clawing, digging into his shoulder. He yelps and spins around, coming face to face with his cousin and his summery smell. Grass, trees, open air, all cooking in the sun. And worry, exuded in waves, almost tangible in Marvin's mouth.

“Jack O'Connell, what the – ”

“You forgot your medicine!”

Jackie shakes an orange bottle in his face, clinging to his sleeve. “It's ten, you usually take it at eight-thirty! Do you feel light-headed? Should I take you home?”

“Are you kidding me, Jackie?” He shoves him away, snatching the meds out of his hands. “Seriously, are you joking?”

“Of course not! What do you mean? You have to take it every night!”

Marvin swears like his ship's just run aground, pushing Jackie and the stranger both off him and stalking towards the exit, fuming. Oh, he could fucking hit Jackie.

“Where are we going?” cries his cousin, hurrying after him.

“Well, you dragged your dumb ass into one of the clubs that always gives you a panic attack, so I guess I have to drag you out!”

Jackie follows after him like a duckling, stiffening every time someone gets too close to him and covering his ears with his hands. Marvin heads out onto the sidewalk and past the line of people waiting to get in, a full block away by the time he whirls on Jackie, snatches his medication out of his hand, and punches him, hard, in the arm.

“Ow!” cries Jackie. “Jerk, what was that for?”

“Jackie!” shouts Marvin.

He pauses before he can speak anymore, forcing himself to take a deep breath in. He folds his hands together, gripping his fists and then releasing them, breathing out long and slow.

“How did you even know I was here?” he begins, voice shaking, but quiet now.

Jackie's nose wrinkles. “You put on that perfume. Makes your scent so strong I could follow you through the whole city if I had to.”

“You also know that's the perfume I put on when I'm going to pick up guys, right?”

Jackie rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

“Want to say that again?” Marvin snarls, baring his teeth.

Jackie growls. “It's the perfume you put on when you go pick up humans with a werewolf kink because you won't get close to any of your own kind anymore, let alone have a real relationship with someone who cares about you.”

Marvin punches him again. Jackie falls back with a hiss, rubbing his arm. “What's your problem? I came to bring you your medicine! Please just take it, okay?”

“Jackie! You interrupted the one good night I've had in about a million years. I took my pill before I left!”

“Well, I didn't know that!”

“It is absolutely not your job to take care of me, Jackie. That's the bottom fucking line. It is not your job to get me my medicine, it's not your job to fucking slut-shame me – ”

“I didn't mean it like that!”

“It's not your job to rescue me from anything.”

“I'm your cousin,” Jackie cries, balling his hands into fists. “You're living with me. I can't look out for you?”

“Yeah, you're my cousin. Not my Alpha!”

Jackie jerks back slightly, blinking. Marvin hisses out a breath, wishing his eyes weren't watering. Goddamn it. Goddamn fucking all of this. He turns away from Jackie and screams, striking his fist into the wall of the silent repair shop they're standing next to, blood immediately welling against his fingers. Jackie darts forward, grabbing his hand, but Marvin yanks it back again with a snarl.

“Don't do that to yourself,” says Jackie quietly. “Marvin. If it's a problem that I'm not your Alpha, why didn't you tell me?”

“Are you kidding? I asked to join your pack two years ago!”

Jackie's expression flickers, uncertain suddenly. “Yeah, and I said I didn't think it was a good idea. You didn't tell me that hurt your feelings.”

“Being rejected from a pack? Jackie, I know that you don't always get this stuff, but you should have known that that would hurt.”

Jackie plays with his hands, eyes lowering. “Well, I didn't think of it. I thought my response just made sense. And anyway, I'm not fit for that stuff. I'm not – ”

“Don't start with that! I hate that they put that shit in your head! This was before they gave you those insecurities, back when you were still excited about your diagnosis, back when you felt so called to be an Alpha you couldn't have imagined living the way you are now. You didn't even explain! All you said was that it was a bad idea because of what we've been through. And I don't even know what that means. Sick of having to nurse me?”

Jackie blinks. “If I was sick of that, would I have brought you your anti-convulsants?”

Marvin lets out another low breath, turning away. He starts walking back towards Jackie's place, chest aching. “You reject me and now you think you get to act like my Alpha.”

“I'm your cousin, man. I love you. Of course I'm always looking after you. It's nothing to do with the Alpha stuff.”

“Oh, don't kid me, Jackie. This has gotten worse and worse ever since your pack left. You miss being an Alpha. So here you are, freaking out when you should know I always take my meds – haven't had a seizure in eight months, by the way – and walking that pup home from class like he needs a big bad wolf to have his back.”

“He felt safer with me there.”

“And you love that.”

Turning back to his cousin, he finds Jackie drawn and quiet, staring at him too intensely, like he always does.

“Don't start, please, Marv,” he says after a second. “I'm not interested in Alpha stuff anymore.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm sure you're 'over' that the same way you're 'over' the problems that made you feral, like you were nice enough to tell the class. Well, you know what, I don't even care.”

Jackie's scent flares with hurt, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“You can pack with those newbies if you want – ”

“I don't. And I won't.”

“But it doesn't matter, because you still won't want me.”

He turns his back on him a second time, almost jogging from how fast he moves down the sidewalk. “Nobody does.”

“Marvin.”

“Leave me alone, Jackie. I'm going back to my own place.”

“What? That landlord hates wolves! You're not even safe there!”

“It's not your problem, you're not my Alpha! And you won't even tell me why.”

“You know why.”

“I definitely don't.”

He turns back, just one more time. Gives Jackie one more chance to explain.

His cousin just stands there looking at him. His hands are limp at his side, his face sad but blank.

“I couldn't...” he begins. “I – you had to be the one who – I didn't – ”

“Didn't what?”

Jackie falls silent. His head drops. He looks at the ground.

“It's because you're angry at me,” Marvin supplies, and damn, his whole face must be bright red from how hot it feels. “Because I snitched. Because I told the cops what your dad was doing.”

“No,” Jackie chokes, suddenly aghast. “No, never.”

“You wouldn't talk to me for weeks after that – ”

“I was feral!”

“No, even after you got better, you – you couldn't even look at me, you – hated me for that, and all I was trying to do was protect you, protect myself – ”

“No.” Jackie's voice catches hard. “No, Marvin. Never. I could never be angry at you for that. You – ”

“Don't lie to me. Not you, Jackie. You never lie.”

“Marvin. Marvin.”

“Just go away!”

And at that, he does take off at a run. If he didn't have his wallet and his meds on him, he'd shift right there and leave his clothes behind, just sprint down the street as a wolf, like he wants to. But he'll run as a human too, and who cares what anybody else thinks? They don't like him anyway. They get one sniff of him, just ever so slightly not human, they get one look at the charms he wears around his throat and wrists, sometimes even if they hear his accent, he's immediately categorized as the other to them, half-animal and dangerous.

Maybe he'll just run all the way to the docks and take the ferry back home. There was so little for him in his hometown after his mother left and his dad shipped him off to Uncle Graham's, but nobody spat at him just for walking down the street smelling like a werewolf.

He's flushed red and heaving by the time he makes it to his crappy duplex, shoving the key in the lock and pressing inside. The door falls closed behind him and he slumps down against it, gasping for air and striking the floor with his fist, again, again.

The worst part, he realizes as he crumples, is that he lied to Jackie about his medication.

He forgot to take it before he went out. He would have forgot for the whole night. For that, Jackie got screamed at.

Swearing and biting down bitter tears, he pops the lid of the bottle and takes his pill without water. Getting to his feet, Marvin paces his rooms like he's caged in them, wringing his hands, trying to convince himself to find something to do to calm down instead of biting something like he wants to. He curses at everything as he forces himself to light incense and rubs his scent aggressively into his couch.

The ping of his phone draws him out of himself for a second. He sniffles, pulling it from his pocket, and his heart plummets down his spine.

Victim Notification System: This message is to inform you that prisoner #46788, Graham O'Connell, has been released from Five Wells Prison Services (Lycanthropic Division). For more information, contact...

Marvin lets the phone fall to the floor. In the loneliness of his living room, the lights off and dust all around him, he curls in on himself and bites into his hand so hard blood wells in a puddle inside his white palm.

.

The walls of his house are quiet, so quiet, such a low buzz of nothing it seems to burn through his ears and singe something inside of his skull with its silence. Everything smells, all the time, but not like it should, never like it should.

He buries his face in Izzy's bedsheets, sobbing so hard he's getting light-headed. This has to stop. The thought occurs to him without making any change in his crying; he feels hysterical. It's getting bad again. He knows it's getting bad again, but he doesn't know how to stop it.

There was little enough hope for him to get even custody when he was just an alcoholic, maybe or maybe not in recovery, but now that he's a fucking werewolf – will he ever see his babies again?

He screams into the silence of his house. Anything to disrupt the fucking silence, quiet, so quiet, and the sheets barely smell like her anymore, nothing smells like them. The whole world smells like everything except the two little people who matter at all. He wants a drink so bad his throat burns.

“Come on, Chase, come on, come on,” he says, like one half of his brain is begging the other. “We can't do this, man, you know that, we can't.”

Help. He needs to get help. He can't collapse alone like last time, can't wind up cradling his gun for hours, too drunk to kill himself. He can't. Can't give up on seeing them again. Can't give up on getting his little joys back, no matter the rest of the world.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he chants to himself, dragging himself from the nest of stuffed animals squeaking on his daughter's bed. “I'll call someone. They won't care that it's late.”

Sean is always on-call, right? And he has friends in America, too, where it's day. His foster brother or one of the guys from college might answer to a Skype call.

Where did he leave the damn phone? He can't find it in the living room or the kitchen. Chase ends up running his hands over his mattress in the dark, too exhausted to bother flipping the lights on, sure he must have thrown it on the bed and forgotten about it. He's just about to call it from his computer when his hands find something else in the sheets.

It's fabric, too, but not like the rest, thicker and more worn. Even if it was exactly the same material as the rest of his sheets, though, he thinks he might be able to tell it apart somehow. His body seems to recognize it before it reaches his brain: a cold thrill of fear and a warm rush of relief both flood down his spine, leaving his back tingling and the hairs on his neck sticking up.

No. No. He can't do this either. He needs to call someone. This can't become his comfort. He's spent too many nights pressing it to his nose already.

But his hand is already pulling the scrap of fabric from under the covers.

“Fuck,” he whispers, every other word suddenly seeming stripped away. “Fuck.”

He raises it to his nose.

The reassurance is immediate, so powerful his knees buckle, and he slips to the ground, rubbing his face into the torn piece of a black hoodie. He can smell that room like he's back inside it, can smell blood, meat, fur, metal. Weeks now and the smell has not faded, as though both the cloth and his brain have taken on the scent as a permanent resident. Above all else, though, there is one smell that he cannot rid himself of, and smelling it now is better than a drink, warming him the whole way through. He can't stop the way his brain calls it safety, protection, belonging.

And of course: the smell of lightning on the wind, a full-bodied storming brewing with bursts of electricity as night falls.

He curls in on the scrap of hoodie in the dark, a long sigh pulled from his chest, and just once, he whispers to the memory beside him: “Alpha.”

Chase falls asleep with the low rumble of a purr in his chest, inebriated for all intents and purposes.

#werewolf au #bee writes #jacksepticeye #tw alcohol abuse mentions #tw suicide attempt mention #tw depressive thoughts

[evanescenthaze1]

Yet another episode of self-loathing and crying, this is exactly what I want my funky friday night to be like! 🥳

#tw depression #tw depressive thoughts #tw depressing thoughts

[grv350m3g4rr3tt]

tbh getting sick of this city and sick of being lonely. there's like nothing to do here and there's like nobody to do anything with anyway. I've tried meeting people but it never goes anywhere. people always leave for one reason or another. theoretically I wanna move but idk where to.

#personal post #tw depression #tw depressive thoughts

[themindofmine]

I just have this overflowing feeling of hopelessness about my future

#mental health #tw depression #i feel empty #kinda depressing #dead inside #emotionally exhausted #mentally tired #why am i like this #i hate it here #tw vent #deep thoughts #own thoughts #mentally exhausted #life #tw depressive thoughts #i cant do it anymore #emotionally drained #tw anxiety

[bxcketbarnes]

when you go to type a long message and just delete it all because honestly... who cares?

#tw depression #tw depressive thoughts #i was doing so well with not crying every damn day #now look at me #personal post

[adoptsomecookies]

In refrence to this post here

While Director of the TBD variant Croissant Cookie's are extremely rare, a few studies show that, when experiencing strong emotion, they start to dissolve into a fine powder in certain areas until she can get herself to calm down, positive overreactions tend to be less severe than negative, with anger and grief being some of the worst of it, that can sometimes result in her temporarily losing one or two limbs until a certain amount of time passes.

Director of TBD Croissants tend to be a little somber, knowing full well that one small mistake could turn them into a timekeeper if they so much as breathe near the void between time and space, along with oftentimes carrying the crippling genetic disease that runs through the croissant line. Thankfully, with careful observations and love, a Director of TBD Croissant can live a relatively normal life until either a timekeeper cookie takes her away or the disease progresses further for those who are born with it.

Despite their dusting habits, the dust they shed when the time comes always seems to dissolve after a minute or two, leaving no traces behind, and even if it did linger, the croissant would be kind enough to clean up the mess she made.

As for Ruler of Ephemeral Flow variant Timekeeper Cookies.... they are a different story.

Pessimistic and lethargic, they are a hollow echo of their former destrutive yet oddly loveable selves, wanting nothing more to just hide away into a time pocket for the rest of eternity, away from their thoughts, their regrets, and most importantly, the idea that nothing really truely matters in the grand expanse of the multiverse. They rely heavily on the support of others to not completely drop out of existence once their mental condition has finally crumbled away alongside their croissant cookie mortality and habits, and prefer to spend much of their time staring blankly at nothing with a somber smile on their faces.

Should one remain within reality, they mainly stick close to their roommates sides, usually hovering closeby or settled on their shoulder if large enough, ignoring most if not all things that does not immediately concern their roommates, but do not protest if they are gently forced into bonding activities. While somber, they are significantly less destructive and aggressive than their normal variants, and with enough time, patience and therapy, they can be solid additions to many a household, being immortal beings and all.

Both of these variants seem to enjoy String Gummy Cookie company, though the Timekeeper Variants is much more subtle, and act as if a string gummy cookie is somewhat nostalgic to them.

#cookie factoids #cw depressive thoughts #cw depression #tw depression #tw depressive thoughts #croissant cookie #timekeeper cookie #ruler of the ephemeral flow #director of the tbd #cookie run #cookie run au #roommates au #i have put too much thought into these can you tell? #string gummy cookie

[lucasgregorowicz]

Vent

Kinda tired of feeling sad and worthless. It is just sure life isn't perfect but man it is not bad either and my birthday is right around the corner and I don't care and it is the first year I feel no excitement cos of it. I used to enjoy it so much and just fuck I feel like such a failure generally, but I am so harsh to myself too because I am battling tons of issues and aftermath of trauma and cannot compare myself to my peers cos most of em had less struggles and I don't fucking know. I just feel like I am in some fucking vacuum and can barely breathe and when I snap then I will just kill myself as this is my only backup plan really and I am nearly 23, but fuck this is too young to feel so old and so fucking tired.

#tw vent #tw personal #tw depressive #tw depressive thoughts #tw depression #tw suicide mention #tw suicide #tw trauma

[lostmf]

#sadnees #tw depressing thoughts #depressing shit #i'm sad #depressing life #tw depressing stuff #quotes #childhood trauma #poetic #childhood #childhood ptsd #childhood truama #child abuse #tw selfhate #self h@rm #truamacore #kill my thoughts #kill my feelings #complex ptsd #how could you #just cptsd things #scribbles #are you proud of me #daddy issues #this is a cry for help #family #abandoned #ptsd #i hate my existence #wound tw