the issue with practicing good self-care is that it's so much easier to do when you're already feeling okay
on a day where I'm not in abject despair, I can go for a walk with little effort and stop myself from looking myself up and not get sucked into scrolling mindlessly on socials that'll make me feel like shit because I'm "not good enough"
but on a day when I do feel bad, not only are those things really, really hard to do but I actively want to do the harmful things even more. On a bad day, I am like 70% more likely to google myself. On a really bad day I want to actively seek out and read bad reviews (I don't, but the urge follows me around all day). Why? I don't know! It's like a form of self-harm.
And then of course if you give into those urges on the bad days, they make the bad days last longer and the good days harder to get back to.
I dunno where I'm going with this other than the fact that the human brain is a hot fucking mess and I wish it would behave itself.
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It Ain't My Fault (That I'm Out Here Gettin' Loose)
“You’d look much better in navy,” Max said, wiggling his eyebrows.
And... huh.
It wasn’t the first time Max had made that joke, but something about it now was different. Maybe it was because he was coming down from his orgasm, or because they were in Austria, or... perhaps it was because he just really loved Max.
But he found himself saying, “Okay.”
OR: The one where a blowjob turns into a life-altering decision. It was always going to happen in Austria.
Part VI of The Warming Verse.
Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen | 7.2k | Read on AO3
moodboard 📸 created by the beautiful @simplysimplylovely
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Fleet: I had this idea…
Clara: Yes?
Fleet: I thought you might like to go to the theatre.
Clara: I’m sorry?
Fleet: The theatre. Today. Catch a matinee.
Clara: Archibald Fleet, are you inviting me to a social activity? Like a friend might?
Me at work: *shaking a baking rack and foaming at the mouth*
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potential angst fic where the world just….collapses in on itself right before your very eyes. the sky is deep red in color, clouds gone, night doesn’t fall behind the horizon of your trees anymore. land is splitting into millions of pieces, people are falling into the ocean by the thousands. there’s chaos everywhere, and you’re sure that this is the official end of the world.
only thing is—you can’t die yet. not because you haven’t fulfilled your life’s destiny or whatever bullshit, no. you refuse to die a virgin. but luckily, so does your childhood best friend Bakugou.
the earth is still shifting and rocking when you both agree to it, sure that by tomorrow the house shattering storms will have moved to your region, that you’ll be dead by sunrise. so you spend the entire night encased in his arms, tangled in his bed sheets. you wish you had more time to try more positions, but you tick off most on your bucket list.
he’s surprisingly shy the whole time, a little huffy when he tries to stick it in and misses your hole because he’s so nervous, and also, there’s another earthquake happening at this very moment. he kisses you gentle, and breaths hotly against your neck whenever you squeeze down on him. it’s not enough time in the remainder of the world to make fun of him for being a one pump chump, and you can only hook your leg around his waist to make him keep going so you can experience your first orgasm with another person.
and the night is heavenly, blissful, full of sweet moans and tender touches. it all goes well, and you expect to wake up in some afterlife by the time ‘night’ is over.
….only thing is; you wake up the next day. in bed. beside Bakugou who looks at you just as confusedly.
“I thought we were supposed to be dead by now?” He asks you, turning on your tv that hasn’t worked since the birds fell out of the sky. but miraculously—the tv works. and it’s broadcasting extremely important news, a headline that makes you swallow.
apocalypse seemingly over: or are we being fooled by an angry god?
“What the fuck are we gonna do now?” You can hear Bakugou mutter, but you’re still stuck on the paler sky that’s starting to look more blue and the one bird on the branch outside your window and the people who’ve stopped wielding axes and started picking up shattered pieces of their homes. but you’re still even more so stuck on the fact that you just fucked your childhood best friend in his too big and expensive bed and lost your virginity for nothing. what the fuck are you gonna do now?
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