#{so like if you'd like random asks or asks from memes throughout the week my friends}

[welcometothevale]

Like for me to send you asks throughout the week.

//I might be more ask heavy than thread heavy for at least the next week. It's the last real week of classes, then finals next week.

The asks are more for small doses of serotonin when my brain is too ahhh for writing threads or when time is ahhh.

Sidenote: I think the plan is to send like 1 a day or something to each person who likes.

[ncityavenue]

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙉𝘾𝙏 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙨

Very straightforward, it's not gonna be all of nct. Random selects I guess, it's gonna be members that come to the front of my mind if that makes sense🤞🏾

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JAEHYUN

Why do I feel like this my man's texting is dry💀like you tell him your plans for the week and hes just like "OK." And yall don't text for the next 4 hrs— STOP WHAT IS THIS SUDDEN JAEHYUN SLANDER😭😭 LOVE HIM THO🤞🏾

(Suggestive) you will know when he's in THE mood if you catch my drift, he texts more frantically and his sentences don't make sense as much ncjwbdhdbakm— you'd be like "are you okay?" And he's like "...I'm horny" and you're just like "okay well I'm at work so you gotta wait " NSIWBCCHSBWKMAO IM SORRY—

BRUH HIS LAUGH TEXT STYLE IS DEFINITELY "Lol", "lmfao", "💀". You genuinely don't know if you made him laugh unless you are on call with him and you hear that dad laugh😭

JOHNNY

He always greets you with a "good morning sexy😏" like sir....we have slobber all over our mouth, SEXY WHERE????

He texts you just to make you're notifications go outta whack, JUST FOR FUN😭

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA"

"Hi"

"Hi

"Hi"

"Hi"

"JOHNNY PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE."

"Hiii🤗💗💗💗"

"Fuck you"

YUTA

He's a "words of affirmation" texter, like in the morning he tells you "have a good day<333" or "you'll do great today<3"

I mean yuta is more of caller than texter bc he wants to hear your voice 🥰😍🤗🤗❤❤💗💗 awhhhh so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

He's a sweet texter honestly, DONT TAKE HIM FOR GRANTED

TEN

"Hey dumbass, wanna go out with me and yang?"

I knowwww he accidentally switches the languages anytime he talks to you

He sends SO MANY photos throughout his day * if yall are together he sends...uhm— YEAH YOU GET THE POINT. Thirst trap Ten era🥱*

Crazy thing is you never know if it's actually ten texting you bc he let's his friends borrow his phone and then somehow you wind up talking to Xiaojun instead of Ten. HE SHOULD STOP LETTING PEOPLE JUST HAVE HIS PHONE😭

(Suggestive maybe) "So, I'm at Spencer's."

"Oh great! Have fun!"

"So what size dildo do you want? They have 6,8,9,and 12 inch:)

"...Why am I with you again?"

"JUST TELL ME😩"

"8 is a great start ig...."

" okay well I'm at the counter with the 12 inch anyway! See you later love you gorgeous🥰"

"I-..."

JENO

You never truly know what you're gonna get outta him, one day he'll be blowing up your notifications the next he'll be the driest mf ever (Jaehyun 2.0)

He sends memes, honestly all of Dream send memes. So it just runs through his veins

He mostly sends them (flirty memes) when you flirt with him and since he's not the best at flirting he sends one like "damn you lookin fine as hell" with like a a cute cat with sunglasses on😭😭(except that one time a czennie said he was cute and then he said they were cute as well on live and Mark was like :0)

There's been a unhealthy amount of times where he accidentally texts you random gibberish, and he's always like "my bad😊"

MARK

NOOOOOO😭😭 IM LAUGHING ALREADY THINKING ABT THIS, So he makes so many typos especially when you start to flirt HE JUST GOES BALLISTIC💀

"So wht shuld we do TodaY?"

"Omg mark are you asking me out😏😏"

"WA.KT WAT NO...AIM I??? WULD U SAY NO IF I WAS? WAIT HUH—"

"MARK PLEASE CALM DOWN IM JOKING😭"

"I'm sorry imsorryyou scared me I shoukds have asked how ur daiy wss sorry sorry!!!!"

"YOU'RE FINE BABY😭"

"Ba-...baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Uhm- okay sugar plum"

"...leave the pet names to me from now on.."

"IM TRYING😭"

If he keeps making errors in his text, he either calls you or sends a voice message💀 Save mark pls.

HAECHAN

He sends memes for EVER-Y-THING, there's never a moment where you're talking to haechan and he doesn't send a meme.

He his text laughs are "GOODBYE-", "LMFAOAOAOAOAO", "IM WHEEZING", "GOODNIGHTTTT"

"Die."

He sends hoe pics

Even if yall are just platonic he sends hoe-y pics and you're like "haechan, I'm at work." And he's like "exactly. Thoughts?" So you decide to fuck with him and you answer with "..why's there a lotion and sock behind you?" And haechan literally deletes the photo😭😭

" hiiiii🥰🥰🥰"

"No."

"C'mon let's talk for like 10 seconds"

"Okay fine"

"How's ur day so far🤗"

"1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10"

"..Die."

"byeeee see u later😍🤞🏾"

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I've been had this idea for awhile but I never wrote it bc I didn't know how to put my frantic thoughts into words- bitch I sound crazy uhm ANYWAYS BXIWVDUWKDOK😭😭

But I hope you liked this and this the end of The BGKSC [Black Girl Kpop Stan Chronicles] IDC IM MAKING IT A THING LEAVE ME BE😭😭😭 BYE BESTIE BOOS🤗❤❤

[ask-the-good-creeps]

You can open up if you'd like

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPT MENTIONS. DEPRESSION MENTIONS. MENTAL HEALTH MENTIONS. DO NOT READ IF THESE THINGS COULD NEGATIVELY AFFECT YOU.

 Okiedokes, mi amigos. The following story happened years ago, but it still comes up in my mind a lot; and I feel like sharing the experience may benefit someone going through a rough patch and/or yield a bit of insight to y’all about why I think the way I do. If you decide to read further, please read it to the end.

 So, this story begins with my first year of university. I was nineteen years old, fresh out of the Arizona foster care system, and had a history of mental health issues (official diagnoses from the psychologists I saw was PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and Bipolar Disorder Type II – all of which triggered and fed into each other) that I was medicated for at that point in my life.

 Things were going well for the first year…I made friends, I joined clubs and events, had an on-campus work study job, and was pulling decent grades in my classes. Then, the year ended and summer rolled around. I volunteered to spend my summer on-campus as a Resident Advisor for the university’s honors outreach program (where we brought 7th-9th graders to the campus for 2-week programs to give them a taste of college life and encourage them to come to us after high school, pretty much).

 To anyone on the outside looking in, things looked like they were going great for me. In my eyes, everything was going great. Except for one thing…my grade hadn’t posted in one of my classes for the semester, and I didn’t do to well on the final (in my opinion). I was slightly worried that I was going to fail the class – looking back now, that was a ridiculous worry because I was doing great in the class and the professor was a really cool dude that usually didn’t fail students unless they put in literally zero effort throughout the semester.

 But, I worried nonetheless.

 Even then, it didn’t feel like a big deal to me…what I didn’t realize is that subconsciously it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for my mental health.

 You see, being in foster care as a teen is Hell. Especially in Arizona. One of the things they drill into the heads of teens in “the system” is that we’re absolute failures who will drop off the map and end up leading miserable lives after we age out of foster care (probably because they don’t teach us the necessary life skills to survive outside of their care, but I digress…that’s another story for another day).

 In the group homes, I was the kid that stayed out of trouble and got straight-A’s in school. I was the kid who never smoked, drank alcohol, or tried drugs not even once in my life. I was the one that kept climbing and got accepted into university on full scholarship after high school. So, I was the one that all those adults of the foster care system used as an example…the one who had extremely high expectations on their shoulders as a result.

 So, when the grade for that class finally posted online and was not an A like my other classes (it was a C), it was the end of the world to my mind. I didn’t realize it when it happened, but seeing that grade made a thread of stability quietly snap behind the scenes where I couldn’t see it.

 As a result, I had a rogue thought.

 Now, when it comes to my thinking patterns, there is always a clear…well, pattern. If I’m thinking about my Great Aunt Vickie’s cat, for example, I can recognize that I started thinking about her because I thought of a funny cat story that was something similar to what Vickie’s cat did; and I can recognize that I thought of that funny cat story because I saw a cat meme on the internet yesterday; and so on, and so on, until I find the real-life stimulus that triggered the whole line of thinking.

 Rogue thoughts are a whole different matter entirely. Unlike my usual thinking patterns, these rogue thoughts just show up without any noticeable stimulus or previous thinking…and that makes them dangerous for someone like me, who has learned to control my depression through CBT and recognizing when my thought patterns are starting to get too negative for me.

 I returned to my apartment in between summer outreach programs (we had a few days to recoup between each 2-week session) and that’s when the rogue thought in question appeared.

 “Kill yourself.”

 That was the thought. It was not linked to any depressive thinking patterns, it was just there. It didn’t feel like a big thing, just another item on my to-do list for the short break I had. Had I been more used to rogue thoughts and encountered a similar one to this in the past, I would have thought more about it.

 I would have recognized that this thought may have popped into my conscious line of thought out of nowhere, but seen that it had deep roots in my subconscious thinking.

 But, I hadn’t had a rogue thought like this in the past.

 All of my previous suicidal ideations had patterns to trace back to in my conscious mind that allowed me to work through most of them without incident.

 So, I sat at my desk and started writing out a suicide note. It was very casual in tone, like a friendly farewell to my friends and family as opposed to being a depressing final record. I planned to jump off my apartment balcony the next day. After careful consideration, I decided that I would prefer my body to stay in one piece (my apartment was on the eighth floor, after all) and I opted to overdose on my medication instead.

 I had a little garden at my window, and I set the note there. I sent a quick text to my father that simply read, “My plants know the reason why.” I was prepared to take the pills…then my father called me.

 He was concerned, but I lied and said that I was just spouting random nonsense with the intent to confuse people (easily believable, as my catchphrase at the time seemed to be, ‘the pancakes fly at midnight and the waffles swim at dawn’ for some reason). He asked multiple times if I was alright, to which I always answered affirmatively. Then, the call ended.

 I went to my room and laid in bed. I put in my headphones and turned on my music. Then, I swallowed ten of my prescription pills (which I was only supposed to take one of every 24 hours, for reference). After that, I swallowed a literal handful of melatonin tablets I picked up OTC, because I didn’t want to be awake for the damage the prescription meds would do to my system.

 I laid back in bed with the music going, and passed out fairly quickly. However, the melatonin wasn’t enough to keep me unconscious as my body started trying to purge the pills in an act of self-preservation. I couldn’t open my eyes because every time I did, the room spun. I was throwing up a lot, and at one point when I leaned over the bedside to get it on the floor instead I lost my balance and faceplanted onto the ground (which I found out later had led to a broken nose). I didn’t even feel it, just the pain my insides were going through as I faded in and out of consciousness.

 Here’s where it gets interesting, reader. It was night by now, and the lights in my room were off. The livingroom light was on and it shined in through the crack under my closed (and locked) bedroom door. Even if I could open my eyes, it wasn’t enough light to see by.

 Yet, it wasn’t my eyes that detected anything. I felt a presence in my room with me, there in the dark. It felt like I knew this person, as if they were a close friend, despite the fact that I had no idea who they were. I remember asking this person,

 “Do I still have enough of the poison left in my system to kill me?”

 To which I received their reply:

 “No. You’ve coughed enough of it up. You’re going to be alright.”

 I cracked my eyes open ever so slightly and saw a flashing blue light shining up at the ceiling every so often. It was a notification light on my phone, which I had left plugged in to charge on the dresser next to my bed.

 My goal here was to die, not to suffer. Since this person there with me insisted I wasn’t going to die, I reached out with my eyes still closed a couple times. I managed to grab my charge cord and pull my phone off the dresser and to the floor next to me.

 It took a couple tries to dial emergency services (911) because I couldn’t keep my eyes open very well, but eventually I got an operator on the line and managed to briefly explain why I called in between bouts of vomiting.

 The paramedics came in. They asked me what I had overdosed on, how many pills I’d taken, and when I took them. I answered with the name of my med, that I had taken ten times my normal dose, and that I didn’t check the time but it was still light out.

The paramedics didn’t believe me at first. One of them told me it was almost light out again now, and that taking that amount of that med meant I should not be alive still, let alone able to express semi-coherent thoughts. They didn’t believe me until they picked up my pill bottle and saw how many were gone.

 I was taken to the hospital and spent a few days recovering there. I had my eyes closed and was in and out of consciousness the whole time, so I’m still not sure exactly what they had to do to keep me alive (though I don’t remember getting my stomach pumped, and I think I heard someone say something about charcoal).

 On my third day there, I started to think on what happened and realized something. I still didn’t know who had been in that room with me. The paramedics had to get a key from the front desk when they arrived and go through two locked doors (my front door and my bedroom) to get to me. My apartment was on the eighth floor, so someone coming in through the (also locked) window was out of the question.

 I didn’t recognize the person’s voice, so I chalked it up to my brain treating me to reverse psychology through an auditory hallucination to keep me alive. Though, that is just a theory.

 So, dear reader, you’re probably wondering why I decided to share this story. Well, it’s not really the story that I wanted to share, but what I learned from the experience.

 I learned that suicide is not a proper course of action, no matter the circumstances. 

I learned that we cannot die before it is our time – the universe will intervene. 

I learned that I have plenty of people who care (though very few of them know why I was in the hospital in 2015). 

I learned that stress is not to be taken lightly (subconsciously I had been super stressed about my C-grade and the implications that I was a failure because of it, and also because of everything loaded on my plate) and it must be handled in a healthy way. 

I learned how to say ‘no’ to avoid putting too much on my plate.

 Most importantly, I learned about freeing myself from the expectations of others. You see, my friend, you will meet many people throughout your life that are important to you that have expectations of you. Family, friends, teachers, mentors, and so on…and you may be worried about disappointing them, as I once was. But please understand that only your own expectations for yourself truly matter, and if you try to please everyone else you’ll end up in a really tight spot. Learn to let go of what they want and pursue your own passions and dreams (preferably before you end up going to university for a major you aren’t even fond of, like I did).

 Lastly, If you feel or think in any capacity that suicide is something you should do, I encourage you to think twice, and reach out openly and honestly with what you’re experiencing to someone you trust in your life or to a Mental Health/Suicide Prevention hotline. If you feel like you have nowhere else to turn, I’m here.

 As someone who almost became a statistic, believe me…I understand.