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#hard rock hotline
heidismagblog · 7 months
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tteokdoroki · 10 months
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hi my beloved angel could i pls request shinsou + ❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜ :33
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☆༉ — HITOSHI SHINSOU: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.
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line. ❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜
extension. edging kink + fem!reader + nsfw.
things to note. for you my baby!! i hope u like heeem n that i characterised him well!!
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it’s not your fault, really. 
usually you’re so obedient and good when it comes to hitoshi — he takes care of your needs as long as you behave and listen to him. with him, you cum as many times as you want, cry as loud as you want and your boyfriend will always make sure that you’re satisfied by the end. you’re spoiled in a sense. but today, shinsou seems keen on undoing that narrative. 
you’ve lost count of how many hours he’s been going at this, fucking just the tip of his girth into you at a painstakingly slow rate — you’ve tried everything, throwing it back on him, your usual whining, even grovelling, but the hero won’t budge. each time, he runs a hand down your spine affectionately and cherishes the way that your whole body shivers at the contact — only whispering a short.
“be patient, angel,” he says in that low, commanding voice of his. “don’t you wanna be good for me?” 
and of course you do, you love hitoshi so much and he treats you so well. it’d only be right for you to trust him, let him abuse your runny little hole with the the fat, achingly hot tip of his dick until he’s the one that’s satisfied. he pushes his hips forward, only just, breaching your gushing walls with hardly any resistance because you’re so wet from being teased but being spoiled all the time breeds bad habits and keeping you on the very edge of cumming like this. 
secretively, you slip one of your hands between your salt-slicked body and the bed sheets hitoshi has you bent over, brushing over your rock hard nipples and the sensitive spots along your pelvis before you’re able to reach your puffy pussy. it’s hard to keep quiet when you’re finally able to graze your the poor, unattended nub tucked between your slick folds — drawing lazy shapes over it just like hitoshi would do for you. you attempt to choke down a delicate whimper, stuffing your teary face into the cotton to muffle the louder sounds that start to escape you. 
“you sound so needy,” hitoshi breathes, placing a large hand on the small of your back to deepen your arch from behind. he rewards you, for sounding so pretty, he really can’t help it either — giving into his habit as he fucks you halfway down to his twitching length, his arousal bleeding rip nestled just inches shy from your gummy g-spot. “being so good ‘n patient, angel. love it when you’re like this. all pliant and desperate for some cock.” 
you wail in reply, writhing and wriggling for more — only to be forced into pleasuring yourself, pinching and rubbing at your clit in tune with shinsou’s shallow thrusts past your rippling entrance. he soothes you, rubbing circles into your hip dips as he whispers little praises like “just a little longer. “you’re doing so well for me sweetheart.” “i can’t wait until i get to fill you up.” 
that is until he feels your sly little hand brush against this muscular inner thigh, while you attempt to get yourself off. one moment, you’re on the verge of finally hitting release, the next, all of that mounting and heavenly pleasure is ripped away from you by hitoshi’s discovery.
“toshi!” you snivel desperately, trying to appeal to his gentler side when he pulls out of you completely — exposing your hot cunt to cool air as you pulse around nothing. “p-please, please ‘m sorry!” 
he sucks his teeth, three fingers coming down harsh on your sopping mound which causes you to jolt forward on the bed in suprise. “oh, I don’t think you are.”  he seethes cruelly, throwing his weight over your trembling body while he licks a wet trail up and behind your ear. “if you were, you wouldn’t be trying to fuck yourself while i’m spoiling you with my cock.” 
okay, so maybe it is your fault. 
shaking your head, you try to wriggle away — your hips running from the sudden and relentless pressure shinsou applies to your greedy clit from behind. “i p-promise! i am, ‘m so sorry. hnngh, ‘toshi ‘m gonna cum! t-too fast!” 
“don’t care.” the purple haired hero grunts, only speeding up. “you wanted to cum so bad? instead of being a good girl and waiting for me?” nipping at your earlobe, shinsou chuckles coyly and smacks a hand down on your pussy again. “now you’re complaining about it being too fast? well too fucking bad. you get what you give, angel.” 
shinsou’s threat should scare you, but it only serves to turn you on even more — clear streams of your arousal painting his thick fingers against your heat like a sugar glaze. 
“d-do it, i dare you.” you manage to bleat out, challenging him. 
the laugh your boyfriend lets out is both cold and amused, overlapped by the squelch of your princess cunt as he replaces what used to be his heavy cock with his fingers inside of you. curling them straight away. 
“challenge accepted, sweetheart.” shinsou grins, pumping in and out of you so fast you hardly realise that you’ve hit your first orgasm until it’s too late — squirting about the place and soaking the sheets. “but this time, you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up.”
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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8um8le · 1 year
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Question!! What type of music are the boys into? [I have some ideas.. but I’d love to see what you think!] :3
Ahh i love this question cuz it got me thinking about the songs that would play in the bg as they go hunting (theme songs)
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here’s the songs I think would fit em: (probs better examples but these are all I could think of at the spot)
Sun: Machiavellian Bach - aperture science, Narc - Mega Drive, Winter at the Continental - Tyler Bates & Joel J
Moon: Man Human - Denki Groove, Hotline Miami - Divide, Cataclysm - Yvetzal
For the og question, think sun would be into 80s pop music, and chill synth wave, and moon would be into more loud chaotic sounds like hard rock and electronic :PP
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virescent-v · 5 months
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Hello! As someone who struggled with a SH Addiction…as wild as it sounds. I was wondering if you could do Reader(Sh Addiciton) is clean but had urges again and is struggling to fight them with Emily helping them? It would help me as someone whose struggling rn lol
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Siren Call
A/N: Hi lovie, I tried my best with this. I have struggled with depression since my teenage years, and suicide ideations throughout that time. To be transparent, I've never dealt with self-harm. I hope I managed to capture those feelings for you and do this justice.
To anyone reading this: Check the trigger warnings. Protect yourself. Please reach out if you're struggling. You're not alone and the world is better with you in it. <3
SAMHSA's National Hotline: 1-800-662- 4357, or text your zip code to 435748 for help near you.
Warnings: Mentions of self-harm/cutting, mentions of razors. It's not very graphic imo, but again, protect yourself if these are not things you feel okay reading.
Word Count: 1.4k
It was a rollercoaster of emotion flowing through you. Ups and downs and turns that you could hardly keep up with. Numbness, but at the same time, a devastating whirlwind of thought. You weren’t sure how you could feel so empty but so full of emotion at one time, but you were. 
The depression was not new, a thing carried along with you every day from your adolescence, like a shadow or a tumor. Always there, sometimes bothersome, sometimes silent, and just waiting for a moment to shatter any progress you’ve made.  
Everyone you’ve talked to has dealt with their mental health differently; therapy, medications, denial. And, sometimes, those did work for you. You met with your therapist once a week (less, if you couldn’t afford it), you were on your third antidepressant, and you tried so hard to ignore how your mind betrayed you. 
The one thing that was consistent, that always helped with the emotions coursing through you, was physically releasing them. 
The first time you cut yourself, you were sixteen. You’d only learned about it from the darker corners of the internet, a place you shouldn’t have been. Too young, too impressionable. But, the first slice of the razor against the skin of your thigh felt good. As the skin tore apart from itself, as the blood oozed from the wound, all of your negative feelings went too. 
With each drop of blood, you felt the freedom from doubt, worry, anger, sadness. Each cut brought a feeling of euphoria, the dopamine replacing all of the emotions that were burying you. 
It was a habit that continued throughout your teenage years, and even early twenties. When the destructive thoughts got too much, the razor was there to bring color back into your life. But, as you got older, you got smarter, more diligent in the way those terrible thoughts would creep into your mind, suffocating the joy from you. You learned better coping mechanisms, learned how to manage the craving of the sharpness of a blade against your fragile skin. 
But still, the release would call to you, a siren of a dreadful sea you did not want to be a voyager on. 
On such nights, when the waves of despair rocked you too roughly, your girlfriend Emily was usually there to distract you, a life preserver to stop you from drowning. 
Unfortunately, Emily wasn’t always there. Her job was demanding, important, much more important than your broken brain. Which made tonight, a particularly rough night, hard for you. 
Everything seemed to be weighing down on you, going wrong, unavoidable mishap after mishap. The shadows seemed to wrap themselves around your brain, spindly fingers digging their claws in with no sign of letting go.
The siren call beckoned, a melodious tune that pulled you in, easing the racing thoughts in your mind. 
You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, the reflection in front of you hardly recognizable. Your skin pallor, dry, dark under your eyes. You licked around your chapped lips, feeling the fuzziness of your unbrushed teeth. Your clothes hung off of your body, loose from multiple days of wear. Unkempt hair, a tangled mess atop your head. You looked as rough as you felt, the lack of sleep and self-care exacerbating your inner turmoil. 
Taking a shaky breath, you looked down at your hands, the newly purchased razor blade sitting in the box. Pretty, new, waiting for use. You imagined the shine of the blade against your skin, how the silver would contrast the uneven, blotchy shade of you. How the deep red hemoglobin would look, how it would bring color back to you. 
The call got louder. 
As you were about to tear open the box, a single word, a single thought, broke through the haze of your mind. 
Emily. 
The cacophony of noise halted. You knew that she wouldn’t be disappointed. She’s the only one who ever really understood this habit, this… addiction. Understood how the silence and the noise bantered back and forth in a way that was sensory overload, how sometimes the only way to get it to stop was to cut. To feel something else. 
While she wouldn’t be disappointed, you could imagine the look on her face, how her eyes would hold all of her thoughts. She’d get you through it, she always has, but sometimes her looks haunted you more than your own thoughts did. 
Instead, you picked up the phone. 
It rang twice; she never sent you to voicemail unless she absolutely could not answer. 
“Baby?” She whispered. You’d woken her up. “Everything okay?” 
You tried to talk. The air was trapped in your lungs, the only noise escaping you a hollow breath, a crushed whimper. 
You could hear Emily sit up in bed, the click of a lamp. “Love? Answer me.” Her voice was more alert, commanding, an edge of fear. 
You swallowed hard. Your breath coming quicker, everything threatening to rush out of you. “Em,” another shaky whimper, a plea. 
“Take a breath for me, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’m right here.” You could hear the rustling of clothes being pulled on. 
The box in your hands rattled as it fumbled onto the bathroom sink, your trembling hands unable to hold it. Another thing you couldn’t do your mind hissed at you. 
“I can’t - can’t ma-make it s-stop.” You forced the words out, stumbling them into each breath you inhaled. 
“I’m coming, baby. Stay on the phone with me. You’re okay.” A car door slammed, the engine roaring to life. A siren. 
“Listen to me. I’ll be right there. Listen to my voice.” Emily continued to talk, walking you through the case she was working on. How the weather was. Her favorite movie. Nonsensical ramblings to keep you focused on her. You’d grunt occasionally in response, a way to ensure her you were still listening, still there. 
Your vision tunneled, black around the edges, as your grip on the sink tightened. You could feel the rush of blood through your body in your ears, your limbs starting to tingle as the  numbness started. 
You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you heard the front door slam, hasty footsteps through the hallway. A hand covering yours. 
Emily turned your body towards hers, her hands cupping your cheeks, trying to bring your eyes to hers. 
You felt paralyzed, stuck in a mud so thick and deep you couldn’t move. You tried to focus on Emily’s voice, the rubbing of her thumbs across your cheekbones. You tried to blink, tried to get your eyes to focus. 
Noticing that she wasn’t getting through to you, Emily wrapped you in the tightest hug she could, squeezing you as hard as her arms could handle. A way to help calm down your overactive nervous system, as if she was trying to transfer your energy to her. 
Eventually the shaking calmed down, the pins and needles in your limbs still pushing and pulling, beating to the accelerated pace of your heart. You were finally able to look at Emily, her eyes shining in worry, but also protectiveness. A lighthouse in a stormy sea. 
She tucked your hair behind your ear, checking over your body for signs of harm. Finding none, seeing the unopened box on the counter, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Let's go lay down, love.” 
She all but dragged you to bed, shoving you under the covers before turning off the overhead light. She walked back into the bathroom, presumably to get rid of the box of razors. 
Your eyes remained closed the entire time, listening to her fiddle around with things in your bedroom, the sound of her jeans hitting the carpeted floor before she joined you in bed. Her strong, warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to her, your head on her chest. 
Her hands traversed your body, as if taking note of each inch of your scarred, but intact skin. She paid extra attention to your previous cuts, the scars healed and raised and pink, a testament of your ability to withstand. Each line a reminder that you made it. That while the emotion swelled over you, overtook you, that you came out on the other side stronger. 
“Sleep, love. I’ll be here. We can talk about it in the morning.” 
All at once, exhaustion engulfed you. You settled more into Emily, breathing in her perfume, realizing at once that she was your saving grace, your protector. You were capable of overcoming anything with her at your side. 
Slowly, as you started to drift off to sleep, the blacks and grays of the shadows disappeared, replaced by a kaleidoscope of colors. Emily’s steady heart lulled you into a sense of comfort. In her arms, the noises and silence settled, the siren call faded into a calming ebb and flow of waves. What was once a tumultuous, dark and violent sea became a mellow, sparkling tide. With Emily, you were home and you were safe from the shadows that haunted you.
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pokemoncaretips · 11 months
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The wimpod line
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You messed up a perfectly good pokemon is what you did! Look at it, it has anxiety!
General notes: An anxious mon with a pretty tough evolution, this pokemon best suits those with a lot of patience.
General care: The wimpod is a nervous creature. And with good reason. It has no claws, teeth or spines, and only has a somewhat noxious spit for defence. This little pokemon sits squarely on the bottom of the food chain and is KEENLY aware of this.
It seeks out small dark spaces to make a nest, and I recommend setting up a small kennel inside and opening the pokeball near it when it first comes home, as it will make a beeline for the nearest dark place. They aren't fussy, though, and will nest under beds, dressers and sofas. I've even heard of one living in the gap between a fridge and a cabinet. The space doesn't need to be big, wimpod prefer hiding in tight places. It should be wide enough that the wimpod can scuttle back to exit but otherwise they like to be fairly enclosed when hiding. In the wild they live under rocks and old tree trunks.
Set up food, water and a litter tray near the space they've chosen, so if they're feeling particularly anxious they don't have to travel far.
They are fully nocturnal at this stage, and will only wiggle out of their hidey hole when its pitch black outside. This is when they'll explore the house and interact with you. You may need nerves of steel for this pokemon, as it will likely clamber onto your pillow and investigate you with taps from its antenna. In wimpod keeping circles it is affectionately called "the sleep paralysis pokemon". Startling or shouting will terrify it, and may damage the future relationship. It becomes bolder when it approaches evolution, and may even clamber into your lap in the evenings. They aren't the easiest to cuddle, but seem to enjoy being rubbed under the antennae.
During the night, it will likely "tidy up", eating dropped crumbs and investigating small items. It has a tendency to drop anything that isn't interesting, so watch where you step in the morning lest you painfully rediscover that lego piece you lost.
They have a bad habit of storing large bits of food in their hole for later, and their idea of what constitutes "expired" is vastly different from humans. So it doesn't attract pests or stink out the house, check and clear its hidey hole when you can.
Golisopod is a total 180. Big and tough and confident. Though a bruiser in the battlefield, it often spends its time at home simply vibing peacefully.
This line does well on standard crustacean pokemon kibble. Care rating: Green
Training: Training a wimpod is a tricky business. Not because they're stupid or aggressive, but because they'll recall into their pokeball at the first sign of trouble. Battling can cause them anxiety. Wimpod trainers often get them to practice using dummies.
Golisopod, on the other hand, are excellent fighters and are more than willing to learn, though the habit of recalling to their pokeball is hard to break. Golisopod, however, seem to use this as a chance to catch their breath, and come out swinging harder than ever. Training rating: Green
Safety: Wimpod have few defences beyond vomiting a poisonous foam when startled. This foam is bitter and nasty tasting, but otherwise holds few risks unless it gets in the eyes. If it does, wash them out with clean water and contact a poisons hotline.
Golisopod don't seem to retain that poison spit, but have sharp edges and are quite bulky. However, they are quite calm and placid at home, and seem to have good spatial awareness.
This line is a good one for teaching children how to care for nervous pokemon, and gets on well with the quieter child. Safety rating: Green
Overall ranking. A pokemon that flourishes with gentle care, this is an excellent bug type pokemon.
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fbfh · 21 hours
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Tony stark x daughter!reader where reader got SA'd and is having a hard time telling her dad?
usa/english/rainn hotline 1-800-656-4673 (also european hotlines, 46 countries listed).
first of all anon I want to give you the biggest most sincere virtual hug. absolutely we can talk about what an amazing dad Tony is, especially under these circumstances. (disclaimer that I don't have much if any experience writing about SA/SA trauma, I did some reasearch and as with all topics I don't have much experience in, pls take this with a grain of salt and feel free to send feedback if you'd like <3 /p)
Tony knows something is off with you immediatley. he's had a weird feeling he can't shake, but Pepper keeps dismissing it as more anxiety. When he first sees you after what happened, his stomach drops. He knows something is wrong, he knows his baby isn't okay, and he is going to make things right no matter what happened. You normally have such an easy time talking to him, but now you can't, and he knows it's serious. He doesn't press you for details right away (after asking if you're okay and doing all the usual dad check in stuff), but he knows you need him. He pulls you into a warm, comforting hug and rubs your back. You can hear the thrum of his arc reactor syncing with his heartbeat, and the white noise is so soothing and comforting and he's such a good dad who loves you so much it all makes you cry again.
"What happened?"
He asks so seriously, you know he understands the gravity of the situation. You try to tell him, but you get all choked up again, and you just... can't. He holds you and comforts you, rubbing your back and talking to you until you start to feel better.
"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay." He says in that dad voice that snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. "You don't have talk about anything yet if you're not ready. Okay?"
You nod, and he wipes your tears away. His hands smell a little like metal, and you know he's been working on his suits.
"Tell you what. Why don't we get some shwarma delivered from that place a few blocks over, we'll pick out a couple movies - what was that one you said you wanted to show me? The really bad one with the birds?"
You nod, but you don't laugh. He wraps you up in his blue hoodie, and has Jarvis call to order your food. He stays close to you, sending Pepper a message to cancel everything he has to do right now, the penthouse is on lockdown until this is resolved. He stays close to you, making sure you feel safe. He wants more than anything to know what happened, who hurt you, what was said or done to upset you like this. While your food is on the way and the movie is loading, the penthouse is quiet aside from your muffled sobs. Tony holds you, rocks you gently, comforts you. After a while, he pulls back enough to wipe your tears away and look at you. He gives you that dad look, the serious heart to heart one.
"I want to make this, whatever it is, better." He states, and you know he means it. He would move heaven and earth for you without hesitation, and he has in the past, and he'll do it again.
"But you need to tell me what's going on. I can't fix the problem if I don't know what it is."
Everything about your dad is so comforting, it makes your throat tighten up and your eyes well up with tears again. You try to explain through choked out, shuddering sobs, but you just can't get the words out.
"Okay, okay," Tony comforts you, bringing up one of his holographic screens he uses for work. A translucent glowing holographic keyboard appears in front of you.
"Why don't you try writing it out?" He offers, hoping that will be easier.
By the time you're done writing out what happened, you look over at him. You're almost scared for a moment, a part of your racing anxiety worried that he won't believe you, or he'll blame you, or-
"Thank you for telling me."
he pulls you into an even tighter hug, holding you close, and his voice shakes as he speaks.
"You did the right thing by telling me, okay?" He comforts you and reassures you that it's not your fault, that you're safe, and that he is never, ever going to let that happen again. Through every battle and alien invasion, you've never seen your dad this protective, this pissed on your behalf.
He gets a little more information from you, the location, the time, if you know who it was. He hacks into anything and everything with a camera until he finds the son of a bitch who hurt you. Then he sends out the drones. He has Stark drones, armed to the teeth, follow the bastard's every move, monitoring him while Tony gets everything together. He gets you counciling and resources, he calls you out of work or school or whatever so you have some time home to recover. If you want to file a police report, believe me he will get it filed immediately. If you don't want to, Tony has other ways of getting your attacker off the streets and away from you for good. Maybe he plants classified shield information on him and gets him thrown in a maximum security prison, maybe he pays someone to blast him into another universe. You don't really know the details, and you don't really want to. All you know is that your dad comes into your room after "making a few calls", and informs you that he's never, ever going to bother you again.
He does whatever you need him to do so you feel as safe and empowered as possible. Your suit gets upgraded, security systems get maxed out, and Tony finds a way to hook Jarvis up to keep an eye on your vitals.
"I'll get a ping if your adrenaline or cortisol spike, or if anything else looks iffy." he explains, hooking up the new system. "Even if it's just a stressful day, I'll know what kind of ben and jerry's to bring you."
You thank him again, and he hugs you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"I love you, kid."
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glamoureddreamer · 2 years
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Here for you
Spooky month (Hatzgang x Reader)
Warnings: suicidal thoughts, dark thoughts, depression, anxiety (please let me know if I’ve missed anything)
If you or a loved one has been suicidal thoughts or actions in anyway please get help from one of the multiple help hotlines. You matter and you deserve help. Thank you everyone, have a great day and know whatever your going through gets better <3
(Y/n) was sitting in the park, getting a lot of glares from people. Their music was turned up so high they couldn’t even hear their thoughts, it was probably for the better. Thinking too much caused that inevitable feeling that nothing was going to change and maybe that it was better to be around to witness it. That feeling was scary- they didn’t want to die they just want things to ch-
Three friendly faces appear in view, trying to get (Y/n)’s attention. (Y/n) slides out their headphones, though it did nothing so they pause it.
“Hi (Y/n)!” Robert smiles cheerfully.
How does he do it?
(Y/n) felt angry, but just pushed it down. Robert is their friend, they can’t be jealous of him for being happy. 
“What’s with the fucking music?” Roy asked, popping some candy into his mouth. 
Roy also had problems, (Y/n) had thought about every conversation that could happen if they told Roy about their own problems. Most of them weren’t good.
(Y/n) shrugs. “I just like it.” 
Robert and Ross join them sitting on the bench that faced toward the park.
They began to chat, (Y/n) stays quiet for the first few minutes then slowly begins to forget that terrible feeling.
Robert's phone rings and he glances down at it.
“Ah cool.” He smiles opening his phone and looked to be emailing somebody.
“What is it, man?” Ross asked.
“My brother has been helping me try to find a job lately and there’s a place hiring,” Robert explains, Roy rolled his eyes.
“Why do you want to work?”
“So I can live comfortably in the future.” (Y/n)‘s mind shifts in an instant as they begin to think about their future.
‘You're going to die alone’
‘You’re life is going to be terrible’
‘Why be around for that pain’
They hadn’t even realized that tears were streaming down their face, their whole body shaking.
“(Y/n)?” Ross asked quietly, he sets a hand on their shoulder. (Y/n)’s breath picked up, they were having a panic attack. Their friends are going to hate them. They’re going to think they're weak. At this point, all three boys were looking at (Y/n) with concern. Ross was the first to act, he pulls (Y/n) into a hug and rubs their back. He gently rocks their body trying to soothe them.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He says softly, (Y/n)‘s head fought back. Nothing was okay, things would only get worse. They didn’t want to die, they were scared of death so why is their mind trying so hard to convince them that this was the way out? Their own thoughts were scaring them.
(Y/n) couldn’t breathe everything was spinning, and they felt lightheaded. They lean their head against Ross, trying to calm down.
After what felt like an eternity, they’re breathing became even and only soft hiccups and sniffles remained.
Ross didn’t let go and continued to rock them, they wipe their eyes.
“Sorry..”
“(Y/n) don’t be sorry, it’s okay.” Robert gives a comforting smile.
“What happened?” Roy asked, only to be glared at by Ross.
“I-I mean if you want to talk about it.”
“…” Could they be trusted? Would they leave? Does it matter?
“…everything is getting worse, there is so much going on in my head and I can’t voice that anything is wrong because I’m scared, I’m scared that I won’t have a good life, that things will only get worse, I’m scared.. of my thoughts.” They vent fresh tears running down their face.
All of them were taken back.
“(Y/n)..” Robert starts
“Things will always look bad but that’s only if you think about them that way, as stupid as it sounds you need to look at everything differently.” Roy sets his hand on (Y/n)’s knee, he rubs it in a comforting manner.
“It’s hard and things aren’t going to change for a long time, but you’ll get through it because you're strong. I mean look at how old you are you’ve survived this long.”
Everyone was shocked, no one expected Roy to comfort anyone.
“Yeah (Y/n) Roy is right, things will get better and we’ll be here for you.” Robert stands up and walks over to (Y/n) hugging them. Roy was pulled in by Ross.
“Thanks, guys.” (Y/n) smiles with tears of happiness.
“Don’t thank us, the least you deserve is some kindness.” (Y/n) hugs tighter. Maybe things would get better, it was hard to say. They might as well stick around to find out. But until things get better they have loud music and the Hatzgang.
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howlingday · 2 years
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Jaune: (Working a sex hotline, Lazily reading his lines) Oh, yeah, baby. That's so hot. I am rock hard, right now.
???: (Other side) Wait, Jaune?!
Jaune: W-Wait... Weiss?!
Weiss: It is you! Are you working a sex hotline?
Jaune: Gah! (Hangs up) Oh, man, I am so dead! My life is over...
---------------------------------------------------
Weiss: (Covering her red face, Looking at Jaune's photo with hearts all around it) Why, oh, why can't I just be honest with myself?
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Text
Angry Conversations
This is a little bit of a darker conversation
This was requested by an Anon so I hope that it comes out the way you thought of!
Now, before we get into it
If something like this has happened to you, or something similar in your life, just know that you are not alone, and there are others in life who love and care for you.
If you are in a situation like this
Please
call all the hotlines you may feel you need. Do not hesitate to reach out for help. It is okay to do so, and those who are good people, the ones you need to pay attention to, are not going to judge you
Warnings: Angst, violence and cursing, arthur being a stand up guy, drinking/alcoholism
tags: @mrsarthurmorgan7​ @kieropal​ @6kaja9​ @cantchoosejust1​ @photo1030​ 
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You sighed as you placed your hands on your hips and looked at the house in front of you
It'd had been a few years since you'd been there, since you'd actually seen the place, let alone stepped foot on the front porch.
You took a deep breath, and reached over your shoulder to touch the hand that'd landed there just seconds before.
"It'll be alright Darlin'. I promise you, and 'sides, if it ain't I'm here, and your dad's just gonna have to deal with it."
You swallow and look up to your wonderful Husband.
Arthur smiles back at you, showing off those crooked pearly whites, chipped tooth and all, and you took a moment to take in his whole face.
The scar on his chin, the blue-green oceanic color of his eyes, the stubble littered across his face.
He was just so handsome, and calming, and kind, there was too much to say anything about him, too much to describe so easily.
He was your rock, for the lack of a better term. He always kept you tethered, kept you stable.
He was far too loving for what you would have expected, but that's what you loved about him so dearly.
He was so different, in comparison to your father.
You father....
He wasn't....
It was hard to describe really. How do you describe someone that you love but hate at the same time?
Your father was so different than you, his personality was almost the complete opposite to yours, it made so many...problems. Caused so many fights that you didn't actually want.
He was just...
Without grace, the easiest way to describe him was that he was simply an asshole.
Arthur had told you himself, the day after you'd introduced the two of them to each other, simply because you felt you had to.
He'd looked you in the eyes and given you a rather confused look as he spoke to you.
"You're such a kind-hearted and fun lovin' woman, I just can't see how you came outta that guys sack, he's full of nothin' but spite and shit."
Which wasn't a very kind way of explaining the way you felt or how he acted towards you, but in all fairness, it was a fairly accurate depiction.
Quietly placing Arthur's hand in your own you headed towards the door and opened it up, hoping that maybe this visit might end up a little different than the many others had been.
Usually every time you came to see him it ended in a verbal fight, the two of you never got along, but you were trying, you really were.
But in order for this to work....he had to try too, it wasn't a one way street.
Maybe you'd be lucky and he'd be in a good mood.
Unfortunately it didn't seem like that'd be the case.
The moment you opened the door you were hit with the smell of Whiskey, it was only noon.
Trying not to make your disappointment too well known to your father, wherever he was, you quietly close the door behind you and Arthur and call out a hello.
"Y/N!" You're fathers voice is as you remembered it for the majority of your childhood, slurred and slow.
With your nerves beginning to shoot up you look up to Arthur's face again, and hope that he can calm you a little.
He nods at you and smiles, gesturing for you to go into the living room where the voice had come from.
He'd been so adamant about you trying to fix things up with your father, trying to get closer to him, just as you'd been, but it seemed that he was even more pressed about it than you were.
You knew why, he'd never been close to his biological dad, but he was with his adoptive dad's, and he wanted you to have the chance to be as close to your biological father as you could, considering he never had the chance to be, and he loved you so dearly that he just couldn't give up on it yet.
With Arthur following closely behind, his hand holding yours you head into the living room where your father sit on a recliner in the corner of a room, a bottle in his hand and a few scattered on the floor near him.
"Hi dad." You muster out. "How...um..How are you?"
"Why are you talkin' to me like I'm some kinda stranger girl? I raised you didn't I? And who the hell is this guy?"
He gestures to Arthur, and even he looses that upbeat demeanor of his, confused. He's met your father a multitude of times.
Arthur's been drunk, he has, but he's never been drunk enough to forget meeting someone who'd be as important as a son-in-law.
"Dad, that's Arthur, my husband," You hold up your hand with your ring sitting snuggly on your ring finger. "We've been married for three years now, you've met him more than a few times, he's been over for dinner, was with us on Thanksgiving, and Christmas, multiple times."
You swallow. "He's with me almost every single time I come to see you, he has been since we've dated, you've met him like a hundred times."  
You blink watching as your dad takes another swig of the drink in his hand and looks between you and Arthur, who'd gently wrapped his arm around your waist in an attempt to try and calm your nerves.
"I ain't never met him in my life." Your father spits. "He looks like he's nothin' but some kinda deadbeat. Get your damn hand off her!"
You stare at him with wide eyes and then gently place a hand on Arthur's chest.
"Stop it!" You huff. "You know Arthur, you've met him multiple times, and don't you DARE say anything like that again. Arthur is a good man, you know that, you'd remember that if you weren't so goddamn piss drunk in the middle of the day!"
"Are you talkin' back to me little girl?" Your father pushes himself off the chair and stares at you, despite being drunk he's not stumbling, and he's able to stand to his full height, just about the same as Arthur, if not an inch taller.
"Dad, I'm not gonna let you sit there and say stuff about Arthur like that, especially not when you aren't even sober enough to remember who he is! He is not a deadbeat! He's the absolute opposite of that, he's amazing, he's a fantastic man, who'd do anything to make me happy. I will not stand to hear you call him that again."
"What's he done that's better than what I've done for you?" Your father nearly yells.
"Everything!" You swallow. "He's been there, he loves me, he's nothing but a good man. He's everything I've ever wanted, ever needed in life, and you? You've done nothing but give me things to worry about!"
You take a deep breath.
"You've made me worry about you and how you're doing for the entirety of my life! An eight year old shouldn't have to sit here and worry about if her dad has alcohol poisoning, or whether you fell asleep on your back or on your side, or on your stomach."
You look him in the eyes.
"You have been nothing but an alcoholic my entire life, nothing but a deadbeat, like you seem to think Arthur is, though I see him leave for work every single morning, and come home every single night to do more chores and all the while he manages to ask how I'm doing, ask if I need something, kiss me, tell me how much he loves me, and yet, you can't even call and see how I am."
"Probably because you can't see straight enough to dial the damn number!" You finish, tears starting to brim at your eyes.
You loved your father deeply, you did, and you wanted to be there with him, you wanted to have a better relationship with him, but you would NOT let him talk about Arthur like that. You wouldn't.
"Him!?" Your father points to Arthur who gently squeezes your waist, trying to remind you that he's there for you.
"He ain't done nothin' for you, I'm the one who raised you, I'm the one who's taken care of you, I am your father, and you're gonna choose this jackass over me? Your flesh and blood?!"
"Yes!" You're nearly yelling at the top of your lungs now. "I'd choose him everyday of the week over you, he's here, he's mentally here, for me all the time, he can talk to me, he loves me and I love him, and while I love you dad, I just can't....I cannot let you treat me the way you've been treating me my whole life."
You swallow.
"You haven't been there for me my whole life. I'd come home from school and I used to have to clean up your goddamn alcohol bottles that were littered around the house because if I didn't we'd drown in the things!"
"You're such an ungrateful little brat!" He takes a step forwards and he grabs the collar of your shirt, ripping you out of Arthur's grip. "I took care of you your whole life, you had it good here you little shit, you could have been doing way worse than cleaning up my bottles!"
"I made the whole family dinner!" You spit out. "With mom gone you never made them for us because you were too drunk to do it! I didn't have a dad growing up because you weren't him!"
You watch as your father raises his other hand, and you wince, preparing for his hand to make impact on your face and when you close your eyes you hear the loud SMACK of skin against skin, but don't feel the sting against your cheek.
You open your eyes only to see Arthur's wide arm covering the area where your father had aimed.
He'd rolled up his sleeves, exposing his skin, and that slap was loud, you knew his skin was stinging.
You feel as Arthur takes you out of your father's grip and moves you behind him.
"Mr. L/N, you will not, hit Y/N, not in front of me, and not when I ain't around neither." Arthur takes a breath. "You shouldn't have even grabbed her by the collar, now you and I do have problems."
He shakes his arms out and then rolls his sleeves down, quietly buttoning the wrists.
"You can talk shit about me all day, call me a deadbeat, call me a jackass, a sonofabitch, a dickhead, a nobody, I don't give a shit. But I will not sit here and let you talk about Y/N like this."
He looks at your father, his stare unwavering, a slight grimace covering his face.
"She is a better person than you will ever be, and she practically raised herself because you've never been there. I have been tryin' and tryin' to get her to get a better relationship with you, hopefully get to be on good terms with you, because havin' her father in her life is important, but from what I've just seen?"
Arthur snorts.
"It ain't happenin' and I ain't gonna let you treat her like this. She ain't comin' back here, especially not without me, I ain't gonna let you hit her."
He cracks his knuckles and shakes out his wrist.
"With that bein' said, I ain't never said I couldn't hit you."
And with that he delivers a punch to your father's jaw and you listen as his knuckles connect with a satisfying thud.
You father stumbles and falls back onto the chair he'd been sitting in, and grabs his jaw, as he screams.
"You fucking Bitch! Get your goddamn dog outta here, I don't wanna see you ever again!"
You feel tears fall from your face at his words.
He was a horrible man, but you couldn't help but feel something for him, he was your father, and those words cut deep.
Really deep.
You quietly place a hand on Arthur's arm and begin to pull him towards the front door.
He obligies, seeing how upset you are, and before you know it you're no longer in the house you grew up in.
As you reach the car you realize you're sobbing and Arthur grabs your arm before you can actually open the door.
"Sweetheart, look at me."
You don't want him to see the tears, and you do your best to do the opposite of his request, looking at your feet against the gravel below them.
"Darlin'." He gently places a crooked pointer finger under your chin and nudges your head upwards to look at him. His face falls as he sees the tears staining your cheeks.
"I know, that ain't how you wanted that to go, I know. I didn't want it to go that way either."
"I just...Arthur...I..." You stop a moment, swallowing, trying to get your thoughts in order.
"Arthur, I know he's a horrible man, I know he's...I know that he isn't someone I should feel bad for losing, but......Arthur he's my father...I...he...I can't....How am I supposed to not see him ever again?"
"Aw, Princess." He leans close and kisses your forehead, before pulling you into a hug, moving his hands over your lower back.
"It ain't easy, I know. You know what my bio dad was like. It ain't easy to leave 'em behind. Even if they're dicks."
"I just...he was there my whole life Arthur. What am I supposed to do?"
"You got me Darlin'." He takes a deep breath. "You got me and you know that Hosea loves ya, and Dutch. I know they're Father-in-laws and it ain't the same, I know that, but we're here for ya, I'm always gonna love you, you know that."
"I know you will, and I you." You look up at him and quietly kiss his lips.
He pulls away after a moment and looks back to your house.
"You know if you hadn't been there I would have done more than punch him." He nearly whispers. "Only reason he ain't a pulp is cause a you."
"Thank you for protecting me." You mumble, "but please don't do something you'll regret."
"Course not, I ain't gonna do somethin' that'll land me in jail. I promise."
"Is your arm okay? I know he's got a hard swing..."
Arthur's face darkens a little at the idea that you'd felt the sting before but shakes off the feeling.
"It's fine, it'll be a little red, but I'll be alright, I'd rather it be my arm than your face, the bastard."
You nod and quietly wiped your face with your palm.
"I guess we need to get going home right? Anywhere away from here, preferably."
"Of course Darlin', anywhere, we can stop at that restaurant you like so much too before we go home."
"Thank you Arthur, sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you."
"Bullshit, if anything you deserve better, now, get that hot ass of yours in the car and let's get goin' that place'll be packed by the time we get there."
"Right."
You smile then, watching as Arthur makes his way to the drivers side door, and you really think about how lucky you are.
Your father might be a worthless piece of shit, but you got a husband who was more than what you needed in your life.
Even without a father figure to guide you, you had him.
He was kind, sweet, and patient, and he would give you the world if you let him.
Arthur was all you needed in life.
He was the perfect husband, and today's events just showed that he really was your knight in shining armor.
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heidismagblog · 11 months
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qwuilty · 1 year
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One Nine Hundred (Postal 1 Fanfic)
Hiii guess who has more time to fic write :3c My spring semester is coming to a close so i have less time caught up in homework and decided to get back into writing a little!
It's a postal 1 fic cause of course. It's based on the easter egg of going up to the payphones and hearing women moan.
Warning that it does start sexually, nothing actually NSFW progresses besides some initiation, but it cuts off from there. No ships included, unnamed narrator character, mostly just focused on writing P1 dialog and all. And of course, canon typical descriptions of violence, fic below the cut! ^^
Another long night.
The woman checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror again, sure her clients never saw her, but it felt like she still needed to dress up a little for the occasion. Working at these kinds of call girl gigs wasn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world, but she could manage the ones calling and it paid her bills, plus it was kind of nice working from home even if they had to supply her the phone to use. Something about making sure she wasn’t dicking around and calling friends on their hours.
At the ring of her receiver she quickly left the small bathroom, closing the door behind her on instinct as she made her way to the bed. Taking a short, deep breath, she quickly answered. “Welcome to Angel’s Kiss hotline, how’re you doing honey?” Her voice naturally fell to a sweeter tone, something to keep them feeling comfortable and sell the fantasy a little.
“Hah.. Feeling a little down. Wife’s been driving me up the wall, practically had to sneak out to get away from the bitch.” Oh great, a married guy. Course, it wasn’t surprising, she’d gotten calls from them before, it was all business to her, but they always had such a complex about it. “Mhm.. I bet, must be hard living with someone like that, you must get real lonely at night..” Of course, nothing wrong with playing into that a little, gave her extra material to work with. The sound of commotion in the back and his whispering tone told her the guy probably ran off to some payphone looking to get his rocks off for a bit.
He continued on, complaining about his wife to her in a whispering tone as she just let him go on and on for a while. Her eyes idly glanced around her bedroom, wondering if she needed to clean some of that laundry in the hamper, shifting a little on the soft sheets before he allowed her a moment to speak. “Poor thing. Don’t worry about her tonight sugar, you can trust me to take good, good care of you.”
Appealing to the fantasy was always more her strong suit, taking the bits the callers left her and running from there.  “Tell me, what’re you wearing, handsome?” More just a formality, but he was eager to describe and play along, giving her some time to think it over and get her details consistent. “Wh- What about you, gorgeous?” Shit, he was done already. “Ah, I'm wearing a nice, pink nightgown. Soft, satin. Maybe a little something extra, but you’re going to have to find that out yourself.” A little giggle and he was already hooked.
“Oh hoh.. I’d love to find out, you-” The sound of his voice was cut off by the sound of something loud, like an explosion that even she could hear ringing in her ears. The man’s voice became panicked, swearing as the phone fell down, the sounds of gunshots, screaming, all permeating in the air through the phone as she could hardly bring herself to breathe, let alone hang up.
She huddled up on the bed, hunching into her legs in a sort of fetal position. Soon the commotion died down, only the sounds of footsteps and some horrific, terrible gurgling in the distance. “Sir…?” Her voice quivered, trying to choke out whatever words she could. “Sir, are you okay? Is everything okay there?” A spine chilling silence filled the room until a voice responded. “Hello?”
This wasn’t her client.
His breathing was laborious, sounding like he had just run a marathon, if there wasn’t such a physical barrier between the two it’d feel like he was breathing down her neck. “Hi… Do- Is everything okay?” She stammered, holding onto the phone cord so tight she felt like she’d break it in two. “...No. It’s not okay. Where are you?” Her heart skipped a beat, she wasn’t going to let this fucking creep know where she was! “...I’m sorry, I- I can’t tell you that, that’s against policy.” She swallowed, closing her eyes roughly and hoping to god that’d get him to drop it.
“Are you at least outside of Paradise, Arizona?” Her eyes opened, looking besides herself. “Yeah… Yeah I'm far away from there.” He let out a sigh of relief, that seemed to satiate him. Truthfully she wasn’t that far, but hell if she was going to let him know that. “Thank god. Look, I'm going to be honest with you, please… PLEASE hear me out.” His voice was soft, trying to make sure she could understand his words, but he was clearly upset and the sound of car alarms going off in the background didn’t help him sound any more calming. “There’s something going on here. It’s not- It’s not SAFE.”
She let him continue, fearing the worst if she interrupted. Getting on this guy’s nerves didn’t seem like a very good idea. “There’s some kind of disease, this horrible sickness. It’s makin’ everyone here crazy, they’re like- It’s like watchin’ fucking wild animals, circling around waiting to tear into each-other.” His voice got faster, gripping the payphone roughly. “Listen. Listen. You’ve gotta- It’s- Warn the others. I don’t know if anyone outside knows about this. It could be some real deep shit. Maybe even governmental scale here. And I don't know if I'm makin’ it out alive.”
Every part of her screamed to hang up, to call the fucking cops and hide in her closet until she knew it was safe. But she just couldn’t. It was as if her very body had tensed up, frozen still. “I need you to tell them. I’m going to save everyone, I'm going to make sure this doesn’t spread any further. I don’t know you, and I'm guessing you don’t know me either. But please.” He almost sounded like he was going to cry at this point, his breathing was hitched. “You gotta help them. It’s- Shit!” She jumped a little, she was nowhere near the danger but she had been so caught up in his words she almost forgot about the situation at hand.
The phone dropped again, voices shouting, something about Arizona State Police, then gunfire. The sounds of several men dying at the hands of whoever the hell had picked up that phone. When it finally ended, all she had left was the dial tone and her room, now feeling a cold sensation around her and a deep sense of fear washing over.
“...Sir?”
“Sir, are you there?”
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saturated-soul · 5 months
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It’s been a few months. I cry or get a panic attack when people ask my age. Can’t even write the number down. 23 is what I am if you ask me, in my head that’s still how it is. Pathetic maybe, yeah, I should just face the truth. I hoped that once I got through that day, things would go upwards. And for a little they seemed to have for a bit. Then it all crashed down again.
It’s my first day off meds since only a week and I’m sitting shaking on the ground, already not confident I can do without anymore. Every realization that I’m present in my body freaks me out and I just want to escape. Everything scares me, nothing feels safe. I hoped I would write a “yes I made it” story after that awful day. After the day I promised myself I’d never make it to. No, things can’t always get better immediately, but I didn’t expect it to get worse either. That eating one piece of food would be the biggest struggle of my every day life. That I’d be calling hotlines regularly as some sort of last resort but feeling even more hopeless after. That the feeling of being alive would be so extremely unbearable. So unbearable that the thought of going through one more night or day like this almost drives me crazy. I felt like I already hit rock bottom of what a person should go through with my agoraphobia that seems to be everlasting. As if barely going out, barely seeing friends or seeing anyone wasn’t hard enough already.
And maybe this is too personal to share on just some random website for whoever to read. Maybe it seems like I’m attention seeking or just fucking crazy. Wouldn’t blame you if that’s what you think. But this is the only place I share about myself instead of shutting it all away. Maybe I should stop feeling sorry for myself, but it’s hard when I see everyone around me do things that are so simple for them, but for me a huge struggle on a daily. Something I have to fight over and over and over again. I’m tired, I’m exhausted and need to put it down somewhere at the very least. I’m genuinely just so tired.
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goodmorningnona · 1 month
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i wasnt planning on talking publicly abt this but i think it's important, esp since so many of yall on this webbed site have seen my ass manic, but ive decided to make a sobriety update here and there! Just so someone not in my immediate life sees that im Doing It, or something. I also just think it's important to share that addiction is pretty normal, so. But anyway, here's update #1!!
Sobriety update:
1. Started chewing gum, 10/10 very helpful.
2. Reminding myself of all the physical sensations I hated is also 10/10, but what's 1000/10 is reminding myself all the new trinkets i can buy (or the. International move I can afford.) with my new found dolla dolla bills
3. Dreamed about smoking and running away from my mother as she tried to bash my head in with a rock while i was previously trying to drive to my dead father and a tarot reading appeared in the sky, which is a bit on the nose, I think.
4. Still writing a lot of fanfiction, but when i greened out the other day (what all started this) i had the idea for a cowboy au and I dont remember how it ended bc I passed out 😔
5. I have been eating so much sugar and by jove is it helpful
6. I have not gotten up the courage to call the hotline to get me professional help yet BUT i have told my Inner Circle and theyre helping me so much im gonna cry!! My roommate has hold of my more addictive prescriptions and a good friend of mine got me some non alcoholic beer and encouraged me to Not make special exceptions for doing drugs.
7. Trying to give myself more structure in my day so that i can get back on track. So far it's working a little bit, but small steppy better than no steppy.
8. Trying to find happiness in other things, like being done with assignments or watching tv or listening to magnus (notice how I was too sad and intoxicated this week to listen?? Yeah i got out of the routine during the break so).
9. I know what the problem is and it is that im horribly afraid. Sad!
And if youre wondering what drug problem i have, it's all of them, except like the crazy hard stuff w n*edles n all that. I just uhhhh. Will do anything. At any time. And too much. And combine things. My sober birthday is 18th April and my rock bottom was 17th April. Proud of myself that I... oh my god i scared myself straight (im still a lesbian dont worry)
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schnuron · 8 months
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Darkwave
10/19/2023 My interest of darkwave took me longer to get into it that not many people have told me in the past.
For those who don't know what darkwave is, it's dark synthpop that doesn't progress to be popular in mainstream media. From the information I've read, it began with Clan of Xymox in the 80s and kudos to it that I've listened to their full discography and loved them.
The songs have no hooks from pop/rock/hip-hop musicians. It's listening to a score to get the vibe of something you want to or "my soundtrack playlist" that nowadays people are listening to like Taylor Swift or A$AP Rocky. (https://www.complex.com/music/a/bdandrid/no-hook-viral-rap-songs-structure-changes) Basically, it's the vibe music.
Before darkwave, I heard Sisters of Mercy's Floodland in 2016 and I loved it, but I've never been a nerd of it. Synthwave took me over in that year, thanks to Perturbator's Dangerous Days (heard of it in 2015), GUNSHIP, John Carpenter and Hotline Miami OSTs. I still listen to Synthwave, but I've been least active of that genre since it's kinda ubiquitous at this point.
I heard of a few darkwave albums in the past like Drab Majesty or Boy Harsher's Country Girl EP in 2018, yet that genre didn't grasp me fully. I love Perturbator's Lustful Sacraments. That is until I heard of Mareux's The Perfect Girl (The Cure cover) in February of this year, thanks to Zoolander's meme I saw. I loved that song. How come no one suggested me this song before? ehh…
Darkwave hooked me with Mareux's music in April this year and I've been enamored of searching for more bands like Mareux and so far, I've found plenty of bands I love and some didn't click me. Hopefully they'll keep making one darkwave album per year or tops. No pressure.
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The unanswered question is how long do I keep listening to it. I don't know. The genres I heard like punk (The Stooges), hard rock (Led Zeppelin's third album or AC/DC), pop punk (Yellowcard or Fall Out Boy) heavy metal (Judas Priest or Iron Maiden), Alternative Rock (Story of the Year or Filter), Industrial (Nine Inch Nails or Contagion) metalcore (Bullet For My Valentine/Killswitch Engage), ambient (Plastikman's Consumed), thrash metal (Megadeth's Rust in Peace or Sepultura), grindcore (Terrorizer or Anal Cunt), death metal (Carcass or Death) and black metal (Burzum's Hvis Lyset Tat Oss) are stored in my brain. I'm not enthusiastic of discovering new bands (Spiritbox or Sleep Token) of an existing genre. People will find a niche to a particular band or a number of bands in one way or another.
Will another genre get me addictive in the future? K-pop or noise music? Maybe. Or I'm just apathetic to hook me in a derivative music world.
Whatever. I'm listening to Hante. - Morning Tsunami.
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Have a nice spooky month, folks. ^^
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skylarsblue · 1 year
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(Tw; Depression & Med talk, mildly implied suicidal thoughts from the past, personal stuff) -Hotlines-
Okay, so, I have a real hard time when it comes to asking my psyche about meds. I've also got a hard time admitting when I need help/have a problem, I tend to downplay it to myself. I've had depression for awhile, and it used to be a lot worse. But I've been doing fine for the past few years, so when my current meds were making me worse- (and when I kept asking to change it they'd just up the dose), I nixed it entirely. So I've been medless for my depression for awhile.
I was doing fine but every now and then I'd notice a seemingly random burn out. But, I didn't wanna...ya know, end stuff, so I was like "oh it's fine I'm just tired"/"I was just doing too much, I'll wait out this creative block." And then it hit me. It's not a bunch of burnouts(some of them were) IT'S MY FUCKING DEPRESSION. I was just so used to only acknowledging it when I was at rock bottom, and I wouldn't mention it because my family associates me saying "I'm depressed" with said rock bottom, so they'd worry. I also used to have this complex about me taking meds, so I'd told myself that if I could handle it without meds, I wouldn't need them. But that's not always the case, so, I finally decided to bring it up. AND IT FUCKING WORKED. IT WENT GREAT. I'm gonna be starting meds and they didn't try to fuck with the meds I'm taking that are working. So uh, in short? Talk to your resources if you can, we about that inspirational shit.
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tw transfobia, sucidal thoughts
i had set myself a new years resolution that im going to take my thoughts and emotions more seriously. this led to me coming out to my colleagues and classmates. ive found out that i do indeed might be trans and that top surgery as well as hrt would greatly benefit me as an individual the only problem is that i do not live alone on a rock and that i live in a society and full of people that wouuld be potentially hostile to me. The thought and fear and ongoing supression of my emotions are becoming to weight on me and i started to have thoughts like "i want to start over" or "it would better if i didnt live at all". It hurts me that for my family the perspective of me being trans is that i havent try hard enough to find the beauty in womanhood, while the thruth is that i indeed tried to be more open minded about me being a woman for three years now and ive come to conclusion that i would rather be dead than be false to me and my true emotions. I just want everyone from my family and also everyone who is openly transphobic to know that i am in unimaginable pain and anguish from the moment i wake up to the moment i fell asleep. Everyday my mind is filled with fear and pain and i feel like i cannot live fully again because its either me being uncomfortable with myself or being uncomfortable with everyone around me. I want everyone to know that the numbers are true, yes over 50% of trans people have sucidal thoughts or tried to kill themself. I am tired and i want to scream to the world and i want everyone to know in what great pain i am bc of their ignorance. I have had all of this enough. i wont kill myself bc i know i am stronger than that, that there is hope for me and that i do not deserve those things but it frustrates me when people use me and my situation for their personal benefits. I am scared, i am tired and i just want to be happy. i just want to be heard
Submitted February 15, 2023
As always, I encourage anyone in crisis, or who otherwise needs support, to reach out to those who are qualified. Trans Lifeline is hotline available in the US and Canada.  The Trevor Project has a hotline, textline, and chatline available, and I believe is also for the US and Canada. If you’re not in a country where it is available, Befrienders has hotlines for different countries.
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