#tw: depressive thoughts

[papiliomame]

Demon of Whispering

Without supportsystem and experiencing hate from his family, friends and town towards his ghost-half while keeping it secret, Danny decided to run away. Too bad, his inner demon will always follow him wherever he goes...

Inspired by the works of Teo Skaffa and the videogame "Fran Bow" by Killmonday Games AB.

#danny phantom #angstfest2023 #no one knows au #prompt: demon #fanart #my animation #danny fenton #tw:ectoblood #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: flashing gif #my art

[bookshelf-dust]

let the light in

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2,177

warnings: (this is a heavy fic! please be aware before you read if any of this is triggering for you!) swearing, reader suffers from depression/is in a depressive episode, allusions to passive suicidal feelings and self harm (not explicitly stated), trouble eating/drinking, wooziness, side effects of self-neglect, trouble with self care, one use of y/n, slight hair description—essentially reader is just very depressed

a/n: hello! it’s been quite a while since i wrote anything, but alas i have remembered how. i used this fic as a way to deal with things i’ve been going through and provide myself some comfort, but i’m hoping that it will reach anyone else who needs that or understands these sort of feelings. i really need a steve, and maybe you do too. please be kind! this is a tentative attempt at getting back into writing. also as a small note, this is meant to bet set in the mid 90s, so reader and steve are in their twenties. happy reading <33

————

The phone is ringing again. For the third time. 

You know who it is without having to answer. It’s not like there are a plethora of people with your number anyway. 

But for the third time, you let it ring. When the shrill noise stops, you think you’re in the clear—only for the sound of Steve’s voice to reach your ears. He’s leaving you a voicemail.

Fucking answering machine. 

You stare at the wall, your arm dangling off the bed, while you listen to him say everything you knew he’d say. That he’s worried. That he’s coming to check on you because your lack of an answer is freaking him out. 

And you gave him a key all those months ago, so it’s not like you can stop him. You wouldn’t have the energy to anyhow. 

You roll over and tuck your hands under your cheek. You have no idea what time it is, but the little light your curtains had let in is gone, leaving your room dark. There is a small night light though, just under your window, that Robin bought you because it looks like your favorite flower. Other than that, your small apartment has succumbed to the darkness of a winter evening.

That pressure behind your eyes builds, and without knowing why, you begin to cry. Steve is going to see you like this, and you want to be alone. You don’t have it in you to talk about it or be berated for letting yourself go. 

But you’re also angry. You don’t understand why he gives a shit about you, or why he can’t just leave you alone. Why he can’t just let you go. Why he won’t let you go.  

Most of all you’re angry at yourself for being this way. For being so fucked up. For being alone and for having to watch everyone else be happy and content. 

In your emotional haze, you fall back asleep. You’re not sure how though, considering you shouldn’t even need the rest anymore. But that tired feeling ever goes away, does it?

You wake to the sound of footsteps, to the feeling of your mattress dipping behind you. There’s a gentle weight on your side. Steve.

“Hey, honey,” he starts. “Did you get my message?” 

Steve’s hand rubs softly back and forth over the dip of your waist. You hate the pitying tone in his voice. Even if you know it’s not pity. It’s pain. He’s too big of an empath, and he hates seeing you this way. It breaks his heart, not knowing what you’re feeling and having to see you in a way that embodies nothing more than a shell of the you he first met. 

“You need to go home, Steve,” you say, refusing to face him. He’s turned your lamp on, and something about that pisses you off. 

Your voice is pleading, and it brings tears to Steve’s eyes. He pushes his glasses up onto his forehead. 

“You know I can’t do that. I won’t leave you here like this.”

You roll your eyes and shift onto your back. Steve’s stomach drops at how drained you look. 

“I want you to leave. I need to be alone,” you say, staring at his hand where it’s moved to your stomach with the change in position. 

Your words are harsh, thick with emotion, and you look at Steve like you’re begging him to see how much you’re hurting and need him to go away. You want him to listen and leave you here to slowly disappear. That’s all you’re asking for. So why can’t he give you that much? 

It’s killing him to see you like this. To watch you try and push him away. He knows that’s part of your plan. That way it’ll be easier, in the end. But this is not the you he’s always known. There was a time before it got this bad. Before you lost yourself in it. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, rather than fueling your frustration. 

You roll onto your side, completely facing him now, and pull the blankets up to your chin. Your eyes fill with tears, so you close them. Something about being asked that upsets you. You don’t feel like eating and he’s going to make you.

Steve puts a hand on your leg and waits for an answer. 

“Yesterday. At breakfast. I had a Pop-Tart.”

He keeps himself from sighing, but his heart might as well have dropped out of his ass. You haven’t eaten in 36 hours, and he’s sure that if he hadn’t shown up you might’ve made it more. You’re clearly not worried about eating, and there’s not a single cup in your room either.

“Please don’t make me eat, Steve. I don’t feel like it. Please don’t make me do anything.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes. You want to be left here until your body gives up on you.

“Honey, I’m not going to force you. But I came here to help you, and I need you to try and let me.”

Your vision goes blurry, tears rushing to the surface because the idea of taking care of yourself in any way upsets you more than anything. You cover your eyes, but can’t hold back the sob that lurches up your throat. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, come here.” 

Steve slips a hand around your back, coaxing you upwards. You oblige, happy to let him hold you for a moment. You ignore the fact that your vision blurs again, due to the fact that you haven’t sat up in who knows how long, and fall into him. 

“I can’t, Steve. I can’t do anything or remember a damn thing. I’m so tired. I don’t feel like being alive. I don’t want to move.”

Hearing you express those feelings through your cries, hearing you tell him how bad it’s gotten tears him apart. He wants to make it all better. He can’t bear seeing you like this. And he doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve done to take these feelings out before he got here. 

Steve holds you until you stop wailing, and even when you pull away the tears still come, hiccups making you hold your breath. Your eyes are swollen and your nose won’t quit running. It doesn’t bother him one bit. 

“I know you probably don’t want to do anything, so I have a plan for you, okay? I’m gonna turn the shower on and let you hop in while I get you something small for dinner. I’m gonna take care of everything.”

You sigh. You can’t leave your bed. Besides, who knows if you’ll even be able to stand with how little you’ve put in your body lately.

You press your face into Steve’s shoulder and shake your head. “I don’t think I can.”

He places both hands gently on your cheeks and lifts your face to get you looking at him. 

“You can. I’m going to help, I promise. You won’t have to do anything too demanding.”

Steve slides off the bed and stands. He gently pulls the blankets back from your lap, revealing criss crossed legs and socked feet. He taps your knee and you brace yourself against the mattress, moving your legs over the side, toes feeling for the floor. 

He holds out his hands and you grab hold of his forearms, letting him pull you upwards. Just as suspected, your vision swirls and your body goes all tingly. You sway a little, but Steve holds onto you still, waiting for the moment to pass. After a few seconds, your sight clears, your ears stop ringing, and you can stand on your own. “I’m okay now,” you say. 

He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You don’t deserve this. He needs to stop being so good to you when you’re falling apart.

“Stretch a little, alright?” Steve looks at you over his shoulder before going for your dresser and opening your pajama drawer. 

You try to do as he says, ignoring the way you feel compelled to tell him not to take this so seriously. You press your hands to your back and lean so your hips pop, raise your arms so your shoulders do the same, and bend so harshly that your vision goes out again. Your body is so angry with you.

You’d closed your eyes, but open them when you hear the shower start running. Steve leaves your small bathroom and walks toward you.

“I laid everything out for you, okay? You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want, you only have to cover your bases. You’ll feel so much better after, I promise.”

You nod, and Steve is surprised by the way you hesitantly walk into the bathroom and mentally prepare yourself to shower. 

“Yell if you need me,” he says, smiling before he closes the door behind you. 

You’ve never wanted to shower less in your life, but the water is already running, and you have to get it over with. You quickly undress, avoiding the mirror and anything that might cause an extra ache. Though you do run a hand over the tender skin of your thigh before opening the door and stepping in. You know you have to be kinder to yourself. 

As for bathing, you’re quick, but you wash and condition your hair and make sure to wash your body just as well. You’d never admit it, but being clean does help some. At least you’re physically taken care of. 

When you’re finished, you realize you hadn’t gotten a towel, but your eyes soon find what Steve had laid out for you.

Two towels. Underwear. Your robe. Clean pajamas and socks. Not to mention the lotion and hairbrush he slid forward on the counter so you’d reach for them. He did all of this to make things easier for you. And that makes your heart grow in size. 

You towel off and make the effort to put lotion on as best as you can. Usually you can haphazardly do your back on your own, but you’re so tired now, you realize. You haven’t moved this much in days. 

You gently pull the bathroom door open. “Steve?” you call. He’s there within seconds. 

“Yeah? All done, sweetheart?”

“Almost. Do you think you could put lotion on my back for me? I might need help with my hair, too. If you don’t mind.”

He smiles so sweetly at you. “Of course I don’t mind. Come on.” 

You watch as he pumps some of your lotion into his hands, sniffing it just to make you grin. You move your robe down off your shoulders so that he can get to your back, careful to keep your chest covered. Not that he’d dare look anyway. 

His hands are gentle and soft against the nape of your neck, up and down your spine, on your lower back. He covers the area for you, taking the time to massage it in and hopefully provide you a little relief. 

When he’s finished, you pull your robe up and tie it around your waist. You don’t have the chance to reach for your hairbrush because he’s already got it, fingers gathering your mass of hair towards your back. You can feel the heat of him behind you, and the ache for physical contact surfaces in your chest.

Steve is incredibly gentle when detangling your hair. He starts at the bottom and works your way up, apologizing each time it snags. It feels so nice, so mundane and comforting, that you close your eyes and let yourself feel his hands on your scalp, on your shoulders. You let him take care of you without complaint. 

When that’s over he allows you to finish dressing. You slip into the pajamas he’d chosen for you, not disregarding the fact that the shirt is one of his. 

You patter out to the kitchen, where Steve has fixed you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut into triangles. You sit next to him on your couch and eat in the quiet of the evening, you enjoying being less alone and him glad to see you eating. 

He takes your empty plate from you shortly after, noticing how sleepy you look. 

“Come on, honey. Let’s go lay down, yeah?” He helps you up and holds your hand on the way to the bedroom. He’d changed your sheets while you were showering.

You sit down on the bed, watery eyes looking up at him. “Are you leaving?” you ask.

“No, sweetheart. I was going to offer to stay.”

“Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Steve slips into bed beside you. “You don’t have to worry. I’m right here.” He takes your pinky in his. “I promise you won’t have to suffer through this on your own. I’m not going anywhere.”

You squeeze your pinky against his, and in that moment, the pain in your chest eases just a little bit. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts #savannah’s fics #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x depressed!reader #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: self harm

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

The Bar

Dick looked over as a familiar face loomed over his table. Tall and built, one would think he was he bouncer instead of the bartender if it weren’t for towel around his neck.

It was hard to ignore the almost disappointed look Danny sent his way each night.

It was reminiscent of Alfred in a way, so sad. It made Dick grimace as he downed his last shot.

“You know, you only got one liver in there Dick? As much as I love the amount of dollars you throw my way, this isn’t healthy.”

“Real subtle, Danzzo.. real subtle. Can I get a refill?”

Danny threw down his towel.

“No.”

“No?”

“Dick.. it a quarter till four.. the bar closed down like three hours ago.”

Dick glanced at the clock on the wall, the hands danced as he tried to read the time to the point that he had to give up before his head split.

“Shit.. I guess it is. Sorry about that man I must’ve dosed for a bit.”

Danny sighed as he sat down beside him.

Uh oh, time for the weekly spiel.

“Richard.. look at me. I’m worried here, and this is coming from a guy who’s whole job is to feed people’s addictions. This is getting out of hand.. you’re getting out of hand. How often do we have this talk? How often do I have to stay up just so I can be sure that you are at least sober enough that I can send you home without worrying that the next time I hear about you is on an obituary?”

Danny sighed as he pulled at his hair,

“This used to be a once or twice a month thing man! You would come in, drink and shoot the shit about work and the family. I know ever since the.. accident. Life has been hard to process. Heaven forbid anyone who has to go through that.”

“let me grieve in fucking peace..”

“THIS ISN’T GRIEVING! This is drowning out your emotions so that you don’t have to feel and one of these days you’re not going to get back up and I-”

Danny took a second to center himself and Dick almost felt sad when he did.

Sometimes it felt like Danny was the only person who gave a shit anymore.

Dick scoffed at the thought as he fiddled with the empty shot, he tried to not let the guilt set in.

It was always this same song and dance. Yet Danny didn’t even have the nerve to say it to his face.

“I’m just saying that Jason wouldn’t want you to join him so soon man. “

Danny’s eyes finally left that place that they always seemed to focus on over his shoulder before he pinned Dick with a look of pity.

“Trust me, I would probably know more than you think..”

#dp x dc #writing prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #batman #jason todd #dc x dp #dick grayson #ghost!jason #bartender!danny #drunk!dick #tw: alcohol #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: addiction #tw: dead mention #i’m sorry #i do not know #where this came from but here it is #bartender #alfred pennyworth #mentioned #platonic #dick is going through some shit man #I took a nap after work and my brain chose violence #now you get the sad feels too

[thepromptswhisperer]

Help Prompts

1. A asks their crush B to help them with something (minor) as they hope to spend more time with them.

2. A’s help only makes everything so. much. worse. (Are they even helping? Or are they trying to sabotage B?)

3. A is taken aback when they see that B is suprised that they volunteered to help them with something. (It’s almost like nobody ever bothered helping/looking out for them.)

4. "No. Someone strong would accept help from others if needed."

5. A helped B with something, not expecting anything more than a little gratitude in return. B, however, has different plans.

6. A is bad at comforting others, but they still try to help in their own way.

7. A is frustrated. They badly want to help B, but they just… don’t want to hear it. (They do not need help – or so they say.)

8. "I’ll always try to help you. Even if it means spending all my money on a last minute flight to [your location]/kidnapping your neighbor’s dog so you can finally sleep through the night without any interruptions/etc."

9. To incentivize A to help them, B promises them a reward.

10. A agreed to help B with something. Yet, as it turns out, they don’t know how to be helpful in this very situation.

11. "That’s my good deed of the day/etc. done."

12. A always thought they’d be willing to do anything for B. Yet when the latter needs help with something, they hesitate. (Are they really ready to go that far?)

13. Usually, A would ask B for help. This time, however, they don’t feel like they can do that.

14. "Just shut up and let me help you."

15. A and B are both well aware of the latter’s desire to help everyone. (A finds it admirable./And A intends to use this knowledge to their advantage.)

16. A misinterprets B’s call for help. (e.g. thinks it isn’t as urgent as they make it out to be)

17. "Just talking to you already helps."

18. A is in a bad place and realizes they need help from others to cope with it all. (Yet, they cannot bring themselves to ask for it/they believe nobody would care enough for them to help.)

19. A feels awful for relying so much on B’s help.

20. A knows there’s only one solution to their problem: Accepting/Asking for help from their rival/enemy/etc. B.

21. "Fine. But you’ll owe me."

22. A loves doing things that make their loved ones‘ lives easier. B struggles to accept their gestures.

23. A always believed to have a great support system around them. But when they need help, nobody shows up (– well, nobody except the person they expected it from the least).

#tw: depressive thoughts #writing prompts #writing inspiration #couple prompts #friendship prompts #help prompts #angst prompts #romance prompts #prompt list #writing ideas #person a and person b

[skxllz]

(I'm listening to thick skull by paramore ft julien baker as I write this)

tw; depression, depressive episode, psychotic break

raindrops pelted bluntly against the glass of the window, splattering like the cold blood of a dead animal.

“ have you ever felt... sad? ”

marko looked up at you from the book he held - the diary. your diary. he had swiped it from your vanity when he first entered your room. now, he was lying on the futon across the room; just lined up right from your bed. “ what? ” the blonde asked, confusion lacing his tone. his brows were even knitted together.

“ sad. ” your voice held an empty undertone to it while you sat upon your window's sil, a perfect spot to sit and watch the show fall in the winter. but as of right now, you were busy watching the rain splat against the ground, the gloominess of the weather fitting the foggy look behind your eyes perfectly. “ have you ever been sad, ‘ko? ”

marko slowly turned his head to looked at you, then. his neck was craned backwards, so to him, you looked as if you were upside down. his arms lowered to rest the open diary against his chest. “ where is this coming from, babe? ”

you had been a little off the entire time he was here, but he didn't think anything of it. you often had mood swings, sudden emotional changes - he thought, maybe, it was one of those nights.

he was right, but very wrong.

you had run out of medication the day prior.

“ I feel as if I want to jump out the window. ” you spoke coldly, eyes fleeting between the ground and your shaky hands. “ I just... I don't want to be sad anymore. It's like a permanent epiphany. ” your lips had begun to quiver, finger tips curling inwards, until the dull ends of your nails were digging into your palm.

instantly, marko rolled off of the couch, only to stride quickly over to you until he was kneeled by your side.

he went to speak, but you did before he could, “ I feel as if I'm realizing, all the time, I'll never get better. ” a shaky inhale was taken, while you stared down at your bare feet. your toes were turning purple from the cold; such bad blood circulation you had. “ these thoughts will never go away, they'll always be here. I'll always be here; struggling to accept that I'm not worthy of living, or— ”

“ baby- angel. ” your teary eyes turned onto marko as he grabbed your hand closest to him. his expression bores pain and concern; those usual happy, gleaming eyes of his holding nothing but hurt now. “ stop, ” the blonde spoke softly, the usual playfulness of his tone gone. it weighed down with raw wariness. his other hand -that had been pinned to his knee- reached up to cup over the chilly back of your hand. you felt so cold...

“ firstly, you know I hate when you talk about yourself that way. ” you didn't say anything to that. instead, you avoided eye contact- but marko forced you to look at him again by squeezing your wrist. his hues were stern; but not a scary stern, more concerned. “ secondly, you're not unworthy of living. you're the most precious thing in this world- to me. to david, dwayne, paul. even michael. ”

a beat of silence passes, before marko continues speaking, “ which leaves me wondering why you'd think such a thing, let alone say it out loud. ”

you were quiet, not wanting to speak anymore. your thoughts were everywhere- so were you. It was terrifying, so terrifying. what if he'd hate you? what if he currently does, and is just dealing with you? so many possibilities- so, so many.

“ y/n. ” blinking, your mind cleared just enough... just enough to look up, and see your mate sitting directly in front of you. he squeezed himself into the other side of the windowsill. even though he looked cramped, even though it was humorous, you still didn't crack not even a smile.

“ don't get caught up in your head again.. ” marko whispered, now taking ahold of your other hand. he squeezed them both.

it was such a small gesture, but your favorite source of comfort. you loved hand holding; he knew this. marko was trying to ground you.

“ .. that's hard... ” you mumbled back, eyes darting, “ so very hard. I'm scared, marko. ” you still couldn't look directly into his eyes. he noticed, but didn't comment on it.

“ babydoll, ” his frame shifted so that he could become more comfortable. then, he learned down, pressing a kiss to the back of each of your hands. “ I'm here.. ” each of his thumbs locked over your fingers, only to gently massage them; slowly working downwards. “ I'll always he here. I won't go anywhere - not while you're like this. ”

“ but- ” you panicked almost immediately. more tears stung your eyes as you bolted forward; knees tucking under your behind. “ you'll still leave? ” a sniffle broke through. “ even after I'm better? ”

marko frowned, his eyes widening. he had realized his mistake. “ no! ” he was quick, moving his arms to wrap around your waist. your body trembled, but he still moved to lift you until you were in his lap. “ no, never. ”

lifting your legs, you maneuvered them over his thighs, only to wrap them around his waist. he glanced down momentarily- but then his gaze was right back on your tear stained, blotchy cheeks. “ angel... ” you slowly, but finally lifted your head to look up at him. a smile managed it's way onto his lips. “ I'll never leave. not in your darkest moments, not in your lightest. I'll always be around. we'll always be here for you. ”

slight disbelief lingered in your eyes, he could see it. but... he knew, as well, you were thinking it over. “ do you promise? ” your voice came out as quiet as a mouse, an edge to it- but, thankfully he could hear you.

marko grinned. “ I promise. ” he held out a pinky towards you; other arm keeping a secure hold. “ pinky promise. ”

you sniffled once more, but managed your own small smile.

lifting your hand, you hooked your pinky with his. “ pinky promise. ”

“ good girl.. ” marko kissed your forehead tenderly, letting his eyes fall shut.

“ there's no need to ever feel scared, princess... your family will always be by your side to scare those monsters away. ”

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #marko tlb #marko the lost boys #marko x reader #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: depressive episode

[dallina17]

Vanish (Emily/Emilute/Angelic Sword)

This is for you @niafromheaven! I hope you like it.

CW: Suicidal thoughts. Depression.

Even Angels sometimes lost their way.

That’s what the pit, as Sera called it, was for. When an Angel lost their way, their purpose, but their acts weren’t that bad to be exiled, they went to the pit. A black hole with seemingly no end that wiped away your memories, your purpose, your life, so that you were shaped again in another form, with another name, another duty, another… you.

It was still your soul, but different. The you that existed before simply disappeared.

Of course, seraphim were perfect beings. There was no need for them to go to the pit.

But she had never been a normal seraph, had she?

“Lute…” she whispered, staring at that endless black hole.

One day, when they were cuddling after a long day… maybe she should have noticed then, that her girlfriend had gotten into something dark, terrible, because she hugged Emily and whispered. “Emmy, if one day I lost my purpose… if I turn into something I shouldn’t… please, send me to the pit instantly. Promise?”

She promised. But then Lute had truly lost their way. Becoming a murderer instead of a protector. She knew. Because the Lute she had fallen in love with would have never killed anyone for pleasure. And despite that, she couldn’t keep her promise, because she didn’t want to lose her, even if she would return in another form.

And now she was gone. Truly gone. Everything.

“Lute!”

If she jumped into the pit, would she be able to see her memories with Lute? Their first kiss, the dates, the sweet woman behind that warrior façade. Just one more time. Her selfless, brave warrior. If she could just kiss her one more time or see her… that’s all she would need to smile again.

“LUTE!!”

Maybe, if she screamed enough, the pit would pity her and would give her back. With another body and another name, she could literally be anything, as long as she was still the same woman she loved with every piece of her heart.

She never asked or pleaded for anything, but she needed her. Lute was the first light that came out in the morning, and the last one that vanished at night. And now that she was gone, there was no light. No joy. No happiness. Everyone expected her to smile, to be the joyful Emily who never gets mad and never feels sad! But they didn’t understand! She did feel sad, and angry, and afraid, all those negative things that a hug from Lute would make disappear in a second.

All of those things that were swirling around in her stomach. Like an awful monster. Slowly killing her.

“Please…” she whispered, with tears falling from her face.

Maybe it would be better if they did kill her.

“Come back… Lute… Lute… Lute…”

If the pit didn’t give her back, it could at least erase her memories? Her pain? Maybe if she was born again, then she wouldn’t feel that lump in her throat. The way Heaven suddenly was a horrible place. Maybe she could smile again, she could learn to live in a world where Lute didn’t live. Would she miss her so much, would the pain be insufferable, if this Emily just vanished from existence to be replaced with something better?

Probably not.

“Lute…”

She looked at the pit. If she jumped, one way or another, she would be with her.

Forever.

Like they promised.

“I need you… Lute…”

Endless black hole. She was on the verge of falling into it. It would be a second. A second is all it would take for her to be free from this pain…

Could she?

“Please, give me a sign. I don’t know what to do”

Each day was horrible.

She didn’t sleep.

Or eat.

Her eyes were irritated all the time.

She should have thrown Lute to the pit when she had the chance. It wouldn’t have been the same Lute, but she would at least be with her in some way. Now she had nothing.

The seraph of happiness wasn’t happy anymore. Wasn’t that ironic?

“What are you doing?” she heard her sister's words “Emily, step back.”

She did not.

“Does it hurt? Falling into the pit and becoming something new?” she felt the tears on her cheeks. She did not clean her “It doesn’t matter. It can’t hurt more than this.”

“The pit is for the ones who had lost the path that was created for them” Sera hugged her, preventing her from jumping “You have not. You are still the same as always.”

“The same?” she laughed, without joy “Look at me, Sera, I am nothing! I have nothing, my girlfriend is gone, everything I believed was a lie, and I can’t even smile anymore! I hate waking up and not seeing her. I hate seeing how everyone is so happy. I hate looking at the exorcist that survived and pleading that one of them, anyone, switched places with my Lute so she would still be alive. I hate YOU for allowing this. And…”

She fell on her knees, trembling. Sera held her tight, into her chest, like she did when she was a kid.

“And I hate me…” she whispered “I should have stopped her… I should have done things right… I should… I should…”

She screamed, with tears falling. Sera caressed her hair and lifted her into her arms. Emily hugged her as tight as she could, she still hated her, but it was the only family she had.

“You have your heart broken, but you will be okay, I promise you, Emily.”

No.

She didn’t imagine a world where she would ever be okay again.

Not with these memories.

With this pain.

She just wanted to disappear.

Forever.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #emily #seraphim emily #hazbin hotel emily #emilute #angelic sword #angst #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts

[thrill-seeker-if]

Hi, everyone.

--tw for discussing mental health, death. Just a general life update and an explanation for why I was gone. Under the cut.--

I don't really know how to write something like this, but I just wanted to give a little update on my life.

I'm so sorry for the radio silence the past few months. I understand that it might seem that I've abandoned this project, and I understand many of you may feel a bit... I don't really know the word for it, but you might feel annoyed (?) by my not answering, ignoring tags, and not replying to asks.

I wanted to apologize for that. I do not want my following words to feel like an excuse, but I do want to apologize for that. And I want to thank the people who sent me asks checking in on me, even when I didn't have the strength to reply.

These past few months have been incredibly difficult for me. I have distanced myself from my social medias as I didn't want to see people seeing me go through that kind of time, but all I really accomplished was isolating myself.

I lost a few people in my life that were really important to me. I've always struggled with a feeling of It happened in a time that a lot of things were really on my ass, to say, and I had to deal with the loss as I dealt with the other stresses in my life. My mental health came to an all-time low.

After coming back to this for several days, I think although I expressed my thoughts strangely in this, it's important for me to express them. I am grateful to friends and family who intervened and brought me out of my isolation. I am grateful to everyone who checked in on me, including the kind people in my inbox.

The past few days, I have been rethinking about the kind of person I want to be, and slowly getting used to being happy again.

A couple people have asked if I am still working on my if. Thank you for sticking with me! I want to return to my creative passions, which may mean trying to restructure my IF now that I have different tastes-- not meaning that I am giving up on Thrill Seeker, but as it is structured so heavily around mental health, I do want to take it slow and be a bit more honest with myself. I don't want to feel as if I'm self-inserting in my writing, or that I'm driving away from the plot, or that I'm not giving it the right kind of attention the sensitive topics need, either. I am going to slowly chug along in my creative passions again. I want to slowly and gradually return back to Tumblr and back to my writing.

Thank you to everyone who has read this far, to all those who have checked in on me, even when I didn't have the strength to respond. I hope you are all having a lovely week.

#life update #tw: death #tw: depressive thoughts #temporary pinned

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Won't Leave You Alone

Summary: Y/N is lost without her mom, grief is pulling her under and overwhelming her life. She doesn't want to deal with anything. What can Jensen and Jared do to help?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: TW talk of parental death and grief. Reader has lost her mother. Mentions of depression, anger, and deep grief.

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Jensen Ackles x teen!reader, Jared Padalecki x teen!reader

Word Count: 1,622

A/N: As a follow up to my story, What Do You Say, I had a request from the same follower, asking to do a story about the reader being depressed, not eating, and not being able to work after her mother's death, and how the boys come to help her. I'll keep the reader and their complete request private, but I'm thinking of you, sweetie, and hope this helps at least a little.

A/N 2: As always, this story is about a Jensen (and Jared) from a different part of the multiverse and doesn't reflect anything to do with his real life. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist || Tag Lists

Y/N heard her apartment door open down the hall, but she wasn’t worried. Even though they hadn’t been invited, she knew exactly who was entering her apartment even before they made their way to her bedroom door - the same two people who had been texting her and calling her all day, the only other two people with a key. 

Jensen called out to her as he walked down the hallway. “Y/N! Sweetheart, it’s just us. I texted to say we were coming by. Did you get it?”

I got it. Y/N thought sullenly.

“You haven’t texted back today,” Jared’s booming voice was easily identifiable, “we were worried. Why haven’t you texted back?”

Because I want to be left alone.

She could hear one of them knocking gently on her bedroom door, and she hoped they’d leave when they found it empty.

“Y/N?” Jensen said softly and she could hear her bedroom door squeak open. She knew the room would be dark and deserted, she hadn’t slept there in days. 

She’d spent every moment of the last week, engulfed in her mom’s big king-sized bed. It had been nearly two months since her mom died, and her scent - a soft, sweet vanilla scent - was starting to fade from Y/N’s life. But her mom’s room had remained untouched, and, as a result, the homey smell still lingered there, in her bedsheets, blankets, and pillows. So Y/N’d made herself a little cocoon out of them, and ensconced herself inside it. 

“Shit.” Jensen swore. “She’s not here, Jared. What the fuck?”

She heard the panic in his voice and guilt overrode her annoyance and desperation to avoid the world. She called out from behind the door across the hall. 

“I’m in here.” 

She said it quietly, half hoping they wouldn’t hear it. But in seconds the door to her mom’s room was opening and the two giants walked in. The apartment was on the small side and the bedrooms reflected that. So the two towering men seemed distinctly out of place in her mom’s smallish, very feminine bedroom. Her mom’s tastes had run along the lines of pastels and pillow shams, and Jensen and Jared, in their plaid and denim, contrasted sharply. 

When they finally caught sight of her in the dimly lit room, wrapped up completely in her mom’s blanket she could see the brief relief that spread across their faces, before worry set in again. 

“Hey, kiddo.” Jared said quietly, moving to sit beside her on the bed and pull her into a side hug. Jensen sat on the other side of her, facing her, and gave her a soft smile. 

“We texted you a bunch of times today, why didn’t you answer?”

Y/N shrugged. She didn’t want to answer, didn’t know how. But she could feel her annoyance bubbling up inside her, as it had been all week. 

The boys hadn’t left her alone. All she’d wanted, when she told her agent, Melanie, to tell the show that she needed time off, was to fall off the face of the earth for a while. She just wanted to succumb to the darkness that seemed to permeate her life these days. She was so sick and tired of smiling and performing as though her heart was still beating like normal, as though her world wasn’t shattering around her. 

But she hadn’t been able to disappear. She’d had messages and phone calls daily from the boys, and from other castmates and friends. There were lawyers calling her, and Melanie too, all working on her behalf, trying to get her emancipated so she could live on her own and not have to go live with her Auntie Bev in Seattle, or become a ward of the state. She didn’t want to leave Vancouver, and she was nearly 17 years old; it was ridiculous to consider putting her in a foster home for barely a year.

It was all just too much; she was so tired of thinking, tired of trying to figure out the next step, tired of faking normalcy. She needed quiet, rest…she needed nothingness for a while. 

And she needed to scream.

She could feel it like a bubble in her chest, could feel the frustrations and fears and overwhelming sadness rising up like air in her lungs.

“Y/N.” Jensen said with a bit of a frown at her prolonged silence. “You have to talk to us.”

Y/N clenched her fists in her mom’s blanket. “There’s nothing to talk about, okay? I’m fine. Sorry I missed your texts, I was just sleeping.”

Jensen gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her and she gritted her teeth. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jared answered. “Y/N, honey, we know you’ve barely been sleeping, you’ve barely been eating too.”

“What?” Y/N asked angrily. “You don’t know that!”

“You’re skin and bones.” Jensen said quietly. “And your face is exhausted and gaunt. Y/N we know you’re struggling.”

Y/N scoffed. “Okay, whatever.” 

“What does that mean?” Jensen questioned with a frown. 

“It means, I don’t want to talk about this.” Y/N said, in a warningly low tone.

“Y/N -”

“It means leave me the fuck alone!” She screamed. And once the seal on her emotions was broken, they all came spilling out. 

“It means I took time off to get the fuck away from everyone, yet you’re all still here, you’re all still demanding answers, and I don’t have any! I don’t know anything, I don’t know where I want to live, or what I want to do about work. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know if I’ll be back. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how I’m doing. I. Have. No. Answers! So, just get out and leave me alone!”

The ensuing silence was pulsing with energy, and echoing with her angry screams. She was panting heavily, like she’d run a marathon, and she felt a slowly dawning embarrassment. Surely Jared and Jensen would leave now, and tell everyone that she’d cracked. 

Jensen moved closer and took her face in his big hands. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t do that, I won’t leave you alone.” He looked at Jared and then back into her eyes. “We won’t leave you alone. We promised, remember?”

A noisy, broken, choked sound came out of Y/N’s throat, and then another. She shook her head harshly. “I’m fucking everything up.” She said, her words jagged and uneven, spit out between ugly sobs. “I’m letting everyone down. The show, Melanie, you, Auntie Bev, everyone. I’m failing.”

Jensen moved forward to hug her from the front and Jared pulled her tighter into his side so that she was in a kind of L-shaped hug sandwich. After a minute or two of letting her sob, Jensen pulled back to brush her tears away with his fingertips, and push her oily hair back behind her ears. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered and she suddenly felt gross. 

But Jensen pressed his lips to her forehead and Jared kissed the top of her head, clearly not concerned or bothered by her recent abandonment of proper hygiene. 

Jensen looked into her eyes again, snaring her attention. “Listen to me, sweetheart. You are not failing. And you are not letting anyone down.”

He took her hands and squeezed them. “People are calling and texting you because they’re worried, and just want to know you’re safe. All we need back is a simple, ‘Bad day, but I’m here.’ or ‘I just need to be alone, I’ll text you later.’ We don’t need you to explain anything to us, or apologize, or make any kind of excuse. We all understand the enormous grief you’re experiencing, and the adjustments you’re dealing with, sweetheart, and we don’t expect anything from you.”

“Exactly.” Jared agreed. “And people are only asking you questions because they want to take care of you, and help you in whatever way they can. But, you can only give us what you’re capable of that day, and that is perfectly okay. And if anyone you talk to ever suggests differently? Well, you just let us know, and WE will deal with them and their attitude.”

Y/N sniffled and nodded. “Okay.” She said gently. “I’m sorry I yelled at you and swore at you.” She said to Jensen and then turned her head to include Jared in her apology. “Both of you.” 

But he just shook his head. “No, baby girl, you don’t owe us any apologies.” He smiled his deep-dimpled smile and it made the room a little brighter. “You go ahead and feel free to scream at us anytime you’re frustrated and angry.”

Jensen nodded and banged his chest twice, like an angry gorilla. “Yeah, we’re tough, we can take it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, though it was a watery one. 

Jensen shifted to sit on the other side of her, so that she was tucked up comfortably between them both, warmed by them. 

“We’re gonna be here,” Jensen said as he adjusted the pillows behind his back, “no matter what. But we promise that we’ll be more than happy to simply let you cry, or scream, or sleep, or read, or dance to loud music, or watch awful movies, or walk in the park, or lay without moving, or play board games, or talk about your mom, or not talk about anything, or talk about everything.”

The boys squished her tight and she felt their love pressed into her. 

“Whatever you need, however you need it…” Jensen told her.

“We’re here.” Jared promised. 

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @nt-multi-fandom @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @sunshineandwings86 @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @awkward-and-indecisive @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @b3autyfuldisast3r @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @mysherlock221b @jensensgotyoudean @stixnstripesworld @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @norman1967 @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @b-i-t-c-h-i-e @twirpbunwarrior @mysweetlittledesire @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles rpf #jared padalecki #jared padalecki rpf #jensen x teen!reader #jared x teen!reader #platonic relationships #tw:grief #tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts

[chlstarrbaby]

Neighborhood Academy AU Part 2

Part 1  Part 3 (Final)

Trigger warnings: Angst, depressing thoughts, and brief mentions of suicide, unreality.

Another day, another sprint to Homeroom, neck and neck with Eddie carrying Frank over his shoulder like a kidnapped damsel this time, Frank seemed to be getting some last minute studying done.

Oh shoot! Was there a test today? You hoped it wasn’t Marketing, it could get tricky in places when math was actually involved.

“Mornin’ Frank! Mornin’ Eddie!” You greeted politely despite your jagged breaths in keeping up with the absolute powerhouse that was Track Captain, Eddie Dear.

“Morning, (Y/N)!” They replied in unison.

“Congratulations by the way.” Frank mentioned in his usual quite frankly tone.

“For what?” You breathed in confusion. Why the heck was your Homeroom so far from the front of the school anyway? Sure it's a nice way to stay in shape but it's still nerve wracking when you know there’s a high chance that you’ll be late!

“You got Rizzo in that Grease musical, and Wally got Danny so don’t worry, Sally made sure he wasn’t your exact opposite, but it's still oddly fitting.” Frank replied dryly, but well meaning.

“Did Julie get Sandy? I’m gonna feel really bad when I get into character with her.” You asked, explaining your hesitation.

“Yep, she sure did!” Eddie piped up cheerfully. “Seemed pretty excited about it to me!”

“Well, so long as she’s okay with it, that’s all I can hope for.” You mused loud enough for both of them.

Then you suddenly tripped as you simultaneously remembered why Wally would be happy with the roles anyway. That oddly specific old flame tension between Rizzo and Danny was palpable when played right. He would probably look forward to it. But then you really thought about it and…No, he’d look really forward to it if you got Cha-cha instead.

Despite tripping, you stumble instead, quickly regaining enough balance to continue on running. Somehow you saw two different scenarios for an aftermath that didn’t just happen.

One where you definitely fell, hard enough for the skin to come off your knees but not enough to bleed, didn’t hurt any less, but Eddie, bless him and Frank’s awesome friendship with you, didn’t leave you behind as the potential mailman scooped you up and carried you over his other shoulder to Homeroom. You thanked them graciously despite the pain and assured them that you were fine otherwise. You had a small first aid kit in your bag for such emergencies anyway, especially since the school was so darn big that it was a wonder that there weren’t more nurses offices in it.

The other scenario that popped in your head really made you wonder…Wally popped out of nowhere and caught you from your initial fall, slinging you over his shoulder to mimic Eddie with his significant other, and the irony was certainly not lost on you as you protested with kicking and screaming before giving up since you really needed to catch your breath anyway.

Both of those scenarios felt vividly real, visceral even. But neither happened, Wally was nowhere to be seen until you got closer to Homeroom where he was surrounded by fangirls and fanboys again. Still couldn’t actually see him technically but that crowd wouldn’t be there for anyone else, not even you thankfully. Though it was another piece of kindling to your ongoing argument with Wally about how there was no way you were as pretty as he claims you are.

Regardless, the fans crowding around the door to Homeroom was always such a nuisance. You only had one plan to get them out of the way, and honestly it wasn’t a very good one.

“HOMEROOM’S STARTING! NOW SCATTER!” You screeched over the crowd and it worked…slightly against you as now you were swimming upstream against the bunches of students who had to run back the way you came to get to their respective Homerooms.

Eddie barreled through them just fine, but you had to make yourself smaller and brace yourself so as not to get trampled. It got to the point that you ended up standing still and wasted precious time getting to Homeroom, but there were too many students, you couldn’t move…

Until someone grabbed your wrist and led you through the door. When did you close your eyes? You opened them to find that Wally was the one to drag you through the threshold and safety of Homeroom.

His gaze was intense again, but this time you were looking directly at it and it felt ten times worse than having it directed at the back of your head. He was livid. 

But so weren’t you at him for a multitude of reasons, most of which haven’t even happened yet, (and some you weren’t entirely sure if they had happened at some point or not). So you stood your ground while you waited for him to say something.

“What were you thinking, neighbor? You could have been trampled.” Wally’s monotone betrayed what he was really feeling, since he sounded oddly calm.

“I was gonna be late, and so weren’t they, risky as it was, there was a benefit for everyone. Besides, raining on your pretty boy parade is still fun.” You tell him snarkily, mostly gaining confidence on that last sentence. 

His stare softened ever so slightly, knowing him it was most likely from the backhanded compliment.

“You still think I’m pretty after all this time?” Wally asked curiously, clearly flattered as his smirk grew again.

“I may be shorter than you but I’m not blind…You’re still way prettier than me anyway.”  That last sentence was said bitterly, as once again you couldn’t help but make it sting for him a little, though that tended to backfire as the pinprick of tears made their traitorous little ways to the edges of your eyes again, trying to avoid him seeing it by walking past him and over to your seat.

Unfortunately for you he was as observant as ever, and grabbed your wrist as you passed. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning your head to look at him. Some deep internal instinct screamed at you to never look into his eyes for too long, as he could hypnotize you at any time.You don’t know where that came from, but after that weird vision of two scenarios after you stumbled, something wasn’t adding up about this year. Lots of little things that you barely noticed until now, but you knew it wasn’t safe to even dwell on them, so you refocused your mind on how you never saw yourself as ever being pretty, as physically showcased by the fact that you decided to wear shorts today, keeping the suspenders since they were nice and classy.

“How can I get it through your head that you really are beautiful, (Y/N)?” Wally asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, silently apologizing for making you cry again but not being able to voice it properly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle darkly as one of those alternate visions gave you a sneaky idea that he didn’t have to go through with… but it would be funny if he did.

“You could carry me to Homeroom like what Eddie does for Frank, but that’s not very neighborly of me to ask and it would really rain on the timing of your pretty boy parade. Otherwise, there just isn’t a way for you to get it through my head since it’s my demon to bear.” You only turned your head a little bit to him so he could hear you, but you still didn’t face him. At the last sentence you snap your wrist out of his hand and head to your seat.

Class was starting, and Wally was out of time to reply to anything you just said.

Mentally you were cursing yourself for one particular wording choice that you had no idea where that even came from. ‘Not very neighborly of you’…You supposed it was another reference to his cutesy nickname for you since his desk was next to yours…but it felt deeper than that when you said it. As if you were spitting the words in his  face without actually spitting, or putting enough venom into it. Too dangerous to do that. You couldn’t put your finger on why that was though…probably for the best.

He was staring at you the entire day of classes. Not that you looked at him directly even once, but it was hard to ignore completely when he’s in your peripheral vision.

You ate lunch on the school roof today, alone you thought. However Barnaby came up to join you. Not surprising, even after a few months you could tell that Wally and Barnaby were absolutely best friends, but in that super comfortable with each other kind of way where they were definitely just friends and not something more like Eddie and Frank. The best analogy you could think of was Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

Regardless, Barnaby was sweet enough to ask to join you first, and though you already had the sneaking suspicion he was here on Wally’s behalf, you did also leave your other friends high and dry too, so he was here for all their sakes too. You couldn’t deny him for checking on you. He even let you lean on him.

“Ya wanna talk about it?” He asked, not beating around the bush, which you inwardly appreciated.

“Depends…what is it exactly that I should talk about?” You ask back, not willing to give in just yet.

“Anything and everything really. Ya look like ya wanna vent but it can only be with specific people, otherwise ya might explode.” Barnaby offered lazily.

“You sure you wanna hear it even if a good chunk of it is about a certain pompadour wearing cactus?” Grateful as you are at being allowed to vent, you couldn’t help but warn him anyway.

“Cactus?” Barnaby questioned in confusion.

“It’s a play on words in this case. Wally’s smile is cat-like, and what are cacti? They’re prickly.” You explain a little, not going further than that and hoping he would get the other half of the joke.

“Oh, so you’re also calling him…?” Barnaby trailed off on purpose.

“Yep.” You answer simply. “Sorry if it seems a bit harsh to call him that, but that’s why I picked a cactus specifically to make it sound more polite.” Surprisingly Barnaby guffawed.

“No, you’re good, it’s really clever!” He chuckled a bit more before getting back on topic. “But anyway, I’m all ears even if it is about him in a negative way, and I cross my heart none of it will go to him.”

“Thanks Barnaby.” You tell him gratefully.

So you rant, leaving out the weird visions from this morning or any other time from little things where you saw an alternate scenario as if it were a highly invasive memory. Even now you saw a version of yourself… jumping off the roof just to get away from…your pompadour wearing cactus. You vehemently ignored it. It wasn’t your reality after all so it wasn’t really your problem. Not now, not yet, and hopefully not ever.

In any case you explain to Barnaby that Wally’s just been insufferable lately even though it's really because of your deeply ingrained insecurity of how you don’t see yourself as pretty even though you have enough sense to know when certain clothes look good on you anyway. You chalk it up to not being complimented very often throughout your life, and Wally’s attempts, especially the elaborate ones (that he had to knock off after a certain point once it got to the principal's ears) just seemed like elaborate but harmless cat-calling.

Barnaby chuckled at the second cat related pun directed at Wally.

“I can assure you he’s not.” He assured you genuinely.

“Thanks, but that brings me to my other fear…but first I have to ask if he really wasn’t into Julie before I came along?” You asked, hesitating because the bigger question was going to sound bad no matter how you worded it.

“Pretty sure he never was, I can see why it would be hard to tell though. We all live in the same area and we all love him dearly as if we were all just family. And sure, he may be highly praised for his good looks by all the fans of the school, but out of every single one of them even after a year, he picked you.” Barnaby explained slowly and succinctly to get his point across. You were all Sophomores so his vague description of the timing made sense.

Doubt bubbled up and through your vocal chords however.

“It could literally have been anyone. I just happened to be a transfer student. A transfer student that ended up in an assigned seat near the rest of our friends.”

Barnaby hesitated, if only because he wasn’t there just yet on that first day of school when you and Wally first encountered each other, he had to hear that from the others.

“Never mind that I know I ticked him off that first day of school twice, and one of those times was when Julie dragged me out of Homeroom to show me where Sally was holding the auditions.” You continued as an afterthought to paint a clearer picture for him. “I’m still surprised he even remotely likes me after that first day, like, I accidentally stopped everyone from fawning over him dead in their tracks at my mere presence, I felt him boring holes into the back of my head after that….I dunno Barns…If he’s really serious about me, I just don’t want to be a tally on a scorecard, ya know? That’s what I’m really afraid of.” You finally admitted to him and to yourself.

Of course that was the base of it anyway, if you were going to be in a relationship, you’d rather it be a lasting one. But you would have to put some effort into it too. As it was, your heart just wasn’t interested in a relationship right now, and if he went as far as to ask for your hand in marriage after graduating and you said yes…it would only be for the tax benefits, and that’s not being honest to him or yourself. That’s no good.

Suddenly you looked up and saw another variation of yourself getting ready to jump off a different part of the roof, definitely a different variation because this one was wearing pants, but you could still tell it was supposed to be you because that was what the back of your head looked like.

Even more suddenly, Wally burst out of the doors to the roof desperately calling out your name…and heading for that alternate version of you.

You only knew Wally wasn’t part of that same vision (this time) because Barnaby reacted to him, and the vibration of the doors opening was so harsh you could easily feel it against your back.

Wally’s desperate screams of your name chilled you to the bone. Of course you got up quickly and screamed his name in turn to get him to stop, to turn around and realize that he was chasing a vision that was only an illusion.

Barnaby followed in calling his name too and running after Wally, but you were faster. Running to Homeroom every morning paid off for something after all. Regardless you had to tackle Wally to get him to stop, he didn’t fall from it, he is taller than you and apparently had enough upper body strength to brush off even physically acknowledging you, so you had to sidestep around him to his front and grab his face, and for safety measures turn him around with his face in your hands so he wouldn’t look at that alternate version of you anymore.

“Barnaby, please stay up close behind me, he’s seeing things that are and aren’t there, we need to limit his view!” You pleaded to the big blue dog behind you.

Directing your attention back to Wally who was still screaming your name and somehow not comprehending you were right in front of him, pleading for you to stay, you had no choice but to do something extremely risky. You reached an arm to cover his eyes.

“Wally? I’m right here, pretty boy! I’m not going anywhere!” You announce loudly but calmly, hoping your voice breaks through his panicking fog with your nickname for him alone.

“(Y/N)?” He whimpered. Oh thank whatever higher being there was out there, he was regaining his senses.

“That’s my name, don’t you dare wear it out. I’m gonna move my arm now okay?” You reply lightheartedly, making sure to warn him of your movements.

“Okay.” Wally said nervously. So you remove your arm and return its position by cupping his other cheek.

His eyes were wide, and his pupils were shaking, not a good sign but you could still work him through this. You walked him through some breathing exercises to help calm him down from his panic attack, and when he finally calmed down enough (that his pupils weren’t going ballistic) he asked if he could hug you.

Of course you allowed it, as you wrapped your arms around his middle to give him more security. Barnaby hugged you both from behind you for extra security. Wally pleads for you to not leave him, he sounded so pitiful, but you couldn’t promise anything.

Surprisingly, over Wally’s shoulder, you could still see that alternate version of you standing on the edge, wanting to jump.

“Hey, (Y/N).” You call out to them. With…great effort, they turn to you, and their face is flickering through different people’s faces, and you realize that they are merely a representative of you, a possibility of you as it were. “I wish you happiness.”

The collective of flickering faces actually smile, and they bow to you before dissipating in the wind.

“I wish all of you happiness, wherever you can find it.” You say to the wind in hopes that it’ll carry to any other alternative versions of you that couldn’t handle the burden of the bigger school that is Life. 

Everyone on the planet is here for a reason, unfortunately it takes too long to even figure out that reason most of the time. It might even be to just exist for the sake of existing to help raise the planet’s vibration.

Ultimately, the meaning of Life is 42, as in, whatever you want it to be. The choice is yours through good times and bad. May you find your happiness soon, dear neighbor.

“C’mon, Wally, Lunch is just about over, let’s go ask Ms. Poppy if we can bake apple pies today.” You suggest lightly, slowly easing yourself out of Wally’s embrace at least.

“Ha ha ha. Okay, neighbor. But I still don’t see how there are apples in them.” Wally replies with his usual monotonous chuckle. You and Barnaby join him in that as the three of you pack up your belongings and head back downstairs to deal with the remainder of the school day.

@starleska

@jenjenweeeee

@mikomitheclown53

@bunny-masks-blog

@imoreosdude

@heyitsmeyourdryskin

#Welcome Home ARG #Wally Darling #Wally Darling & Reader #Wally Darling x reader #Frank Frankly #Eddie Dear #Julie Joyful #Sally Starlet #Howdy Pillar #Poppy Partridge #Barnaby B. Beagle #Unreality #TW: suicide mention #Angst #tw: depressive thoughts

[awkward-tension-art]

Failure

Fell in love with the Headcanon that @giveintobrainrot came up with with vendetta Leon.

My man has been through a lot and I haven’t seen anyone talk about how that would affect him biologically.

no shame to anyone with any sort of performance issues. Especially if it’s tied to trauma. The human body is weird, and there’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

wrote this with AFAB!reader in mind but I kept pronouns as gender neutral as possible.

I have a second ending for this saved lol

Warnings: self loathing, depressive thoughts, erectile dysfunction, brief mention of cum, sexual dysfunction, depression, angst, if I miss a warning shoot me a message

Minors get the hell out of here.

Leon knew he should be more involved. He knew that you wanted more. More energy. More excitement. More drive.

Your hips rolled slowly. Eyes closed in pleasure. Lips open to let out breathy moans.

Honestly, you could probably replace him with a dildo and have more fun. You most likely wouldn’t even notice a difference. Hell he wouldn’t judge you if you’d stop trying with him and instead preferred some rubber or plastic. You have needs after all and the agent wasn’t able to meet them.

He appreciated the effort though. The way you took away his fatigue for even a little bit. Sometimes he felt that you did this more for him than yourself. You’d wear a sexy little number, push him on the bed, and have your fun. Your full focus on him.

Your body moves in all the right ways. He did feel good, but not enough. It was barely enough to get him hard. Was it his age? The alcohol? Antidepressants? Or the years of living in a nightmare with endless exhaustion and pain?

Your fingertips stroked his cheek and Leon cracked open his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he closed them…

His gaze met yours, and you leaned down to kiss him.

Escape. That's what this was. You were giving him a momentary escape from the realities of the world.

Leon tried to focus on you. Your lips. Your moving hips. Your beautiful body. What you gave him…the work you put in while he just…laid there…

Damnit…

The Agent sighed, turning his face away. His eyes landed on the bedroom wall as his body went slack. He couldn’t do this tonight.

This has happened more times than he cared to count. His tired body gave up, right in the middle of sex. Each time you were forgiving and understanding, but that didn’t help the sting of embarrassment.

Your movements slowed, but you didn't get off. “Leon…” You whispered his name with such tenderness…

Did he deserve such kindness? He’s killed people. Innocent people. He’s ended the lives of people he swore to protect.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, unable to look at you. Embarrassment and shame burned in his chest. He couldn't bear to see the look on your face.

Disappointment. Sadness. Frustration. All things he expected from you. But he was too cowardly to confirm.

Why even try with him? You had no future with the agent. He couldn’t give you the slightest bit of enthusiasm anymore. There was no energy. No passion.

Fuck. He couldn’t give you the family you deserve. He wasn’t a loving husband who strived to gift you the world. Kids were off the table entirely. Even if he managed to finish, which was now rare, he couldn’t produce any seed. His genetics would die with him. Once he’s gone, there will be no proof of your love. No one to remember the love you shared.

Leon couldn’t face you. He couldn’t do it anymore. You deserve so much better than him. Self loathing drowned his entire form. It hurt to even breathe now.

“Leon…” your voice. God your voice. It was soft and loving. Every word dripped with understanding and patience. “Do you want to sleep?”

He nodded silently.

You slipped off his lap and laid beside him. He kept his back to you unable to see how you looked at him. You’d stare with such boredom. Or contempt.

God what if you hated him? All the agent is doing now is wasting your time. You could go and find someone much better than him. Someone would could meet your needs and-

Your lips were on his shoulder, pecking his scarred skin tenderly. With warm and loving arms, you reached around him to hold his hands, interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you, Leon.” You whispered, “and I’m here for you, ok? I’m gonna stay right here for you.”

Why? Why? He wanted to scream that question. Why bother with him anymore? He was far from the man you’ve fallen in love with.

“I love you too.” He croaked. He wanted to tell you to move on. For your own happiness. But he was too selfish. You were a shred of light in his dark, dark world. And he couldn’t give you up. He clung to you desperately, wanting to hold onto the small comfort you could give his broken soul.

You gave him so much. But he couldn’t do the same to you.

“I love you so much…” he whispered, praying his voice remained steady. Doubtful, because everything else in his body failed him. Why would his vocal cords actually cooperate with what he wanted?

You held him tighter, giving away the fact that yes, his own voice betrayed him.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #vendetta leon #resident evil vendetta #reader insert #angst #tw: self image issues #tw: mentions of trauma #tw: depressive thoughts

[loife1m]

important, please read

after that mental breakdown in dance, I think for the holidays im going to properly take a break.

as you know from my 40+ rants, it’s obvious im suffering from mental health issues, which is unfortunately most of my age group right now.

im so overwhelmed, frustrated, anxious, stressed, sad, angry, you name it. I’m experiencing too many emotions at a time, and im exhausted from it.

from Friday to at least Wednesday this week, im going to try taking a break off tumblr and Wattpad. I’ll be online a bit, but not too much. In the break, im going to try hanging out with friends as much as I can and try to heal myself. Don’t get me wrong, y’all are a great help, but I think it might be best for me.

so yeah. Thanks for reading lmao

#loife updates #the loife show #mental health #tw depressing thoughts #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: depression

[nightghoul381]

Hello! Can I request a Ellis x fem!reader fic?

Genre: Angst

Prompt: Reader's dating Ellis because she fell in love with his supportive and caring side. However after a while reader notices he's actually kind to everyone and starts doubting if he truly loves her or just agree to date out of kindness.

Ty in advance🩵

Hello Anon, finally came across a day I was feeling angsty enough to write this. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Ellis Twilight x Reader Genre: Angst WC: ~1k CW: Feelings of inadequacy and generally not a pleasant read.

A/N: Feeling depressed today definitely pushed me to write this, trying to get some of my emotions out... ended up writing another, more angsty and sad story immediately after this... not sure if I'm going to share that one though.

Reader's dating Ellis because she fell in love with his supportive and caring side. However after a while reader notices he's actually kind to everyone and starts doubting if he truly loves her or just agree to date out of kindness.

It’s not supposed to feel this way. Being in a relationship, you’re supposed to feel like the other is genuinely happy to be with you, to spend time with you, the love you. But these days it feels like a façade. Does he truly want to be in a relationship? Is he only dating you because you agreed it would make you happy?

Ellis is incredibly sweet, caring and attentive…to everyone. At first, you hadn’t really acknowledged that he treated everyone this way. You were spending quite a lot of time with him one on one between missions and had grown to love that gentle, eager to please side of him that he so rarely didn’t show. You had gotten used to him bending over backwards to do things to make you happy.

In those days you’d told yourself that he must be interested in you, otherwise, why would he be working so hard to make you happy? Surely he must be interested in more…right?

The way he smiled when you asked him to be your boyfriend made your heart sing. You know now that the brightness in his eyes was purely due to you expressing your own happiness. He couldn’t care less about the status of your relationship. His only focus was happiness.

The happiness of you, of the other members of Crown, of anyone he seemed to come across.

The kindness you had felt was unique to you started showing up more and more in his interactions with other people. The soft smile upon seeing the joy on a child’s face as he gave them a sweet. The way he would always ask, ‘would that make you happy?’…all of his previously sweet and endearing qualities now seemed like a slap in the face.

Even asking him about it was pointless. He would look at you with those puppy dog eyes and you couldn’t continue asking him why he didn’t treat you any different from anyone else. You had once tried to ask him if he was happy being in a relationship with you. He turned it around saying that if you were happy, then he was happy.

He wasn’t invested in the relationship like you were. He just wanted everyone to be happy. Everyone, equally. There was no room in his heart for someone to stand out and take priority. It was too painful to see how much his devotion to you was really just him being kind as he is with everyone.

You thought you could make things different, that you could at least get him to fall for you. You were dating, after all. So try as you might to draw out any inner feelings he may have, he remained the same. His face plastered with that sweet, gentle smile that you had fallen for, always asking if you were happy.

It’s becoming too much. You need this to stop. It hurts knowing you aren’t good enough to change his mind. That you aren’t enough at all.

That’s why you’re here now, seated across from him at a small café. You can’t get too upset if you’re around people.

“Ellis. I need to know,” you start, voice shaky and throat tight.

“Am I special to you?” Ellis gave his trademark smile and nodded. “Of course you are. I love it when you’re happy. It makes me happy when others are happy.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to be like ‘others’ I want you to care more about my happiness than anyone else’s. And more than that. I need to know. Do you want to be with me? Regardless of my opinion or whether or not it will make me happy. I need you to tell me. Does being in a relationship mean anything to you?”

Ellis looks stunned for a moment, before his mouth sets in a straight line and his eyes close.

“You looked so happy when you asked me to be your boyfriend. I had to keep that happiness on your face,” he admits finally, his sunset eyes easing open and fixing on you.

“I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

The additional words seem to fall over you like a bucket of cold water. He didn’t care. This relationship was built on nothing more than your own infatuation. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, not with you, not with anybody. He just did whatever would earn him a smile.

The realization that this whole time you were the only one developing feelings, the only one craving time together, the only one hiding yourself between the false smile you always wore these days.

You stood up, fighting to stop the way your body was trembling as you look at Ellis and say,

“I don’t think this relationship is going to work. I’m going to go now.”

Ellis looks surprised, asking you why you would want such a thing when you were so happy with him… why wouldn’t you want to keep being happy.

At last you look at him and spit out your parting words, “I can’t be happy with you. Seeing the way you treat everyone the exact same way you teat me, hurts more than you can ever know. I’m supposed to be the most important person in your life. I am clearly not. I don’t think you’re capable of letting one person take priority over another. You aren’t capable of showing true, unfettered love. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye Ellis.”

With your last sentence cut off by a choked sob, you run out of the restaurant.

Alone at last you let the tears fall. The tears of what had happened, the tears of what could have been, the tears that you had been right all along. You should never have dated him. You should never have allowed yourself to open up to him, to show him your truest, honest love. He would never be able to reciprocate such unrequited feelings, and it was time to accept that and move on. You would never be enough.

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil ellis #ellis twilight #ikemen villains ellis #angst #ikevil fanfictfion #ikevil angst #tw: depressive thoughts

[hebuiltfive]

Thundertober Day Seven: Alive

Please, please check the warnings for this one.

I've tried to cover enough to be on the safe side but it does delve into some darker thoughts, so please be mindful of that. I hadn't planned on this getting quite so... depressing. It was supposed to have an uplifting end. Fair warning: it doesn't.

AO3 here

Days: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six

Warnings for: Suicidal Thoughts; Depression; Major Character Injury. This is set post-Hydrofoil. Gordon is having to come to terms with the cost of surviving an accident that should have left him dead. Tagging: @thunder-tober @skymaiden32 @idontknowreallywhy (just going to put it out there that if you want to be tagged in any future Thundertober pieces, or future pieces in general, let me know and I'll tag you too!)

What was the point of being alive if it meant you could no longer live?

The mirror was his enemy. He refused to even take a glance because who exactly would be staring back at him? What had he become? Life or death and he had chosen to live because he was strong and his human survival instincts had kicked in, but what was the cost?

His legs were currently immobile, his arms cocooned in casts. Most of his body was either bandaged or strapped up in some way, metal rods and plating fixed inside him as though he were a bionic man. There was probably some sort of joke in there somewhere, but Gordon failed to see the funny side. He failed to make a joke about anything as of late, and for good reason.

He had survived, but now he was facing a life of… this. 

Apparently, there was still a chance he might have been able to return to his old life, but the odds were against him. According to some of the doctors, there was a slim possibility of Gordon being able to walk again. It was a tiny glimmer of hope, but he chose to not think of it. To think of it, to hope for it, only for it to likely be ripped away from him all over again? He’d rather remain solemn and bed-ridden without the dream, thanks.

Because that’s all it was now. 

A dream of a past life and a possible future that was no longer within his grasp.

Whenever his brothers came by to visit, usually once a day, they’d reassure him, or try to, but none of them had ever been good liars, at least not to Gordon’s face. He could tell instantly when Scott blinked excessively and barely offered him a simple glance in his direction; when Virgil took great interest in the way his booted feet twisted and moved across the shaggy carpeted rug beside his hospital bed; when John’s fingers would not stop fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie and would give only an uncharacteristic shrug as an answer whenever Gordon asked him a question.

Late at night, when the wing had fallen asleep and the only sounds that filled the area was the soft humming of machines and the padded feet of nurses doing their routinely hourly checks, Gordon would allow his mind to wander away on whims and what-ifs. 

What if he’d never joined that stupid test programme?

What if he had instead followed his dreams?

What if he had never got in that damned accident and still had a body that worked?

Never again would he be able to join his family on their hikes through the canyons near home. Never again would he be able to swim laps through the foaming waves on the West Coast. He had once considered taking up surfing more seriously, to add to his list of water hobbies, but now Gordon knew he’d never have the chance.

Wrapped up in cotton strips and constantly having to warn airport security of the additions to his body… This wasn’t living. At times he even question whether striving had been worth it.

Gordon eventually found the strength to confide in Virgil those thoughts which constantly ate away at him. His empathetic nature made Gordon feel like he would be the only brother who could understand, and who wouldn’t bat away his concerns with a simple don’t even think like that, you’re going to be fine, even with the odds stacked against him.

“What will make the surviving worth it, then?” Virgil had asked him, cradling a plastic cup that had once held the contents of a coffee vending machine. He’d slowly sipped his way through the warm, comforting drink as Gordon had bared his soul.

To his credit, Gordon hadn’t allowed a single tear to stain his cheeks. In his eyes, that was a win. He managed to open up to his brother without breaking down. It wasn’t that he thought Virgil wouldn’t have been able to take Gordon’s meltdown. He just didn’t want his brother having to witness it.

“I don’t know.” He replied honestly after a moment of quick, silent reflection. “I don’t think anything will.”

He couldn’t look Virgil in the eyes because he knew how it sounded. As a family, they never gave up. After everything they’d been through, they always found a way to continue fighting through the dark until the light appeared at the end of the tunnel again, but this time, Gordon felt exhausted. To him, the tunnel had caved in and there was no escape from the endless gloom.

“Walking again.” Virgil answered for him. “That would make it worth it. Running again. Standing again. Swimming again.”

The word made Gordon tense. It also made him lock eyes with his brother. For the first time in that conversation, there was a glossy sheen to those orbs as tears threatened to fall regardless of what Gordon wanted. “Don’t.” He warned carefully. “Don’t use that as a—”

“Gordon, the chances aren’t zero.”

And there it was. So much for believing Virgil wouldn’t try and reassure him with those ridiculous odds again.

“They’re as good as, Virg!” Gordon hadn’t meant to raise his voice. He knew his brother was only trying to help in the best way he could, but the pain was still raw and Gordon didn’t want to think about possibilities. “Don’t give me hope only to take it away again.”

“I’m giving you facts.”

“The fact is,” Gordon shuffled himself a little higher in his bed, ignoring the protest from his lower spine, “that no-one knows what the fuck is going to happen because I shouldn’t even be here! I should have died in that wreck, but for some unknown, Godforsaken reason, I’m still here and I wish I wasn’t!”

Gordon had never once regretted speaking to any of his brothers. He’d never once regretted choosing to open up to them, least of all Virgil, but as he sat there, taking in his brother’s horrified expression at his claim, Gordon regretted ever opening his mouth at all.

He didn’t let up. He couldn’t. To apologise or to backtrack would only offer two choices: Virgil would either accept his outburst as a mistake and not take any action, or he wouldn’t buy the act and would begin to put an action plan in place to tackle Gordon’s supposed way of thinking. Gordon wasn’t sure which option was worse.

So he continued.

“If it was you, Virgil… if you suddenly lost the ability to use your hands, your fingers, and now your painting and your piano playing was just a distant memory of what you could once do, how the fuck would you feel?”

He wasn’t sure what Virgil was thinking as he just stared at his younger brother. He wasn’t sure if any answer was going to be given, let alone an honest one. All of those doubts dissipated when Virgil leant forward. His elbows rested on the sheets of the bed, his hands holding as best he could onto one of Gordon’s casts.

“I would fight because the alternative isn’t better than this. That is never better than having some sort of life, Gordon. Death is death, but life… No matter how bad it seems now, life has variables and possibilities, and you should never wish for anything else.”

Gordon didn’t bother trying to hold back the tears any longer. He knew Virgil was right, but accepting that meant accepting a whole lot more pain.

“I’m too tired, Virg.” He whispered, head hanging lowly in defeat and shame.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that when you’ve still got fight left in you, Gordon. I know you have.” Virgil tilted Gordon’s chin upwards with two gentle fingers. “You’re a Tracy. We don’t give up. So long as you are alive, there is hope, whether you think it’s worth believing in or not. So long as you are alive, you can fight, even if you believe you’re too tired to keep going. So long as you are alive, I will help you as much as I can because you are my brother and I’d much rather have to wait on you hand and foot than attend another gravestone, okay?”

It wasn’t a question to ask whether Gordon understood.

It was a question to ask whether Gordon would accept that unspoken promise.

“We take each day as it comes, but we never give up. So long as you are alive, Gordon, promise me that you will never give up.”

“I’m not great at promises, Virg, but…”

He trailed off his sentence, hoping his brother understood that he would try. 

Trying was all he had left to give. 

#thundertober 2023 #thunderbirds fanfiction #five fics #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: injury #tw: depressive thoughts

[treehuggerthegreat]

whump inspiration/writing exercise

(A fictional writing exercise, this is NOT a vent post. This is me messing with my ocs)

TW: In depth description of depressive thoughts self doubt, domestic abuse, and passive suicidal ideation

I have friends now, I told myself once I had friends they’d be able to help me. I could get away or at least feel a little happier, but they can’t help. I can’t even ask them for help. Would they even care? What if I end up scaring away the one girl who has ever seen me. Why won’t anyone help me. Am I even worth saving? Is it even worth saving me if i can’t save myself?

I want to leave. I want to move out. But i can’t, can I? She could just… leave. But she doesn’t. She could leave me here with grandma. Yet she continues to suffocate me. There’s not enough from for me here anymore. What does she want?

Why does she hate me so much?

what did I

ever

do

to

deserve

this

Do I deserve this?

What if i just

let her

kill

me

Would any of my friends miss me?

But why would a friend miss a girl

when her own mother hated her enough

To

To kill her

…

would she really do that?

Would she kill me?

#No this is not about me #An experimental sort of writing entry about my Oc #Like a journal entry but it’s her direct thoughts #Fictional #whump #whump inspiration #whump prompt #whump angst #whump ideas #whump tropes #whumpblr #whump community #whump dynamics #writeblr #original character #Oc #angst prompts #angst #angst inspiration #whump writing #writing inspiration #writing angst #angst writing #TW: abuse #tw: child abuse #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: passive suicidal ideation #tw: self doubt #my writing #writing

[prxnce-of-chxos]

ooc

I'm just feeling empty. I want to bother people but I also don't. They don't deserve to be bothered by someone as annoying as me.

#tw: depressive thoughts #tw: depression

[livealittleoc-cb]

Silent Cry

TW for alcohol, allusions of depression/depressive thoughts

It had been a long day. 

The whole week had been so long and drawn out and Jooheon just wanted a break. But he could never seem to get that this week. He was currently sat in front of his bed glass of Jack Daniels in his hand, the bottle itself basically less than half empty. He moved the glass hearing the ice in it hitting the sides of it. He hadn’t gotten as drunk as he would have liked to so he threw his head back drinking the rest of what was inside of his cup. He hummed at the burning feeling as it went down his throat. He reached out for the bottle and poured the remaining amounts of it into his glass as he let out a sad sigh.

If your parents could see you right now they would be so disappointed in you.

They already are.

You were supposed to be getting better, look at you going back.

You can’t escape, you’re a drunk, a disappointment. You’ll never be anything more than that.

His thoughts were cut off by his phone ringing. He groaned as he glanced up through a hazy gaze. His vision cleared enough to see it was a call from his mum. Tears started to fill at the corners of his eyes as he choked back a sob. He shook his head as he got up. Ignoring the buzzing of his phone he slammed the cup on the table next to it. He took the empty bottle and stumbled his way to his kitchen, looking for something stronger to fully shut down.

✨: I just...disappoint...

Joo might not be his comforting and happy self on dash. Please don’t take it to heart, he has had a bad day.

possible new residents: @faywithlove​ @moonsdessert​ @minmin-petalcb​ @theinvitation-bot​ @badbf-cb​ @raiden-oc​ @welcome-to-maniac​ @dr-hwa-cb​ @monsterhigh-cb​ @halloween-idols​ @darkmoonsiblings​  @nana-n-nono​ @freakstars-cb​ @onlyomega-cb​  @hybrididol-cb​ @temptationcb​ @thepack-cb​​  @clubwnderland​ @angelxdevil-bot​ @supernaturalcb​ @hybrid-center​ @mystical-ocs​ @svt-wolfpack​ @domxbot​ @ocmyths​ @logan-oc-cb​ @fantasyaespa​​ @ateezmansion​​ @dreamaristocracycb​​ @helluvaboss-cb​​​ @thepatchedpaw​​  @fantasycafexbot​ @redlight-cb​​ @clairvoyantbeasts-cb​​ @fate-bot​​ @undercoverxcb​​ @hideawaycb​​ @vanilladaises-rp​ @theocsnextdoor​ [DM + / -]  

#✨jooheon.txt #tw: alcohol #tw: alchohol mention #tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts