#Guilt and shame

[teaboot]

Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

[nvmadic]

GUILT AND SHAME - 04

link to last part: [x] synopsis: after a messy dispute revolving around your toxic boyfriend, schlatt takes matters into his own hands and puts your safety over his. some feelings are unearthed that need dealing with. words: 5,472 warnings: light drinking

Despite originally intending to go straight home, you made a spontaneous decision to prolong your trip by an extra day, much to Ted's insistence. Both Ted and Schlatt, after enduring the exhausting demands of filming episodes for Chuckle Week, were fortunate enough to find respite in a well-deserved day off. Ted eagerly assumed the role of a seasoned tour guide, unveiling an array of hidden culinary treasures and introducing you to lesser-known, yet captivating, local attractions. With meticulous attention, he skillfully navigated you away from the swarming tourist hubs, ensuring that you soaked up the genuine essence of the city firsthand.

The day was imbued with a bittersweet aura, carrying an underlying sense of urgency that compelled you to savour each passing moment, as you knew it would be quite some time before you'd reunite with Schlatt, given his overwhelming schedule. Every minute held a precious weight, and you conscientiously immersed yourself in the present, cherishing the shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and secret glances that wove a delicate thread of connection throughout your day. Torn between the fervent desire to express your affection and the imperative to keep it hidden, you delicately tiptoed a tightrope of restraint, mindful not to arouse any suspicions in the discerning eyes of Ted. Every stolen touch, every lingering gaze had to be discreet, artfully concealed behind the façade of friendship.

As the evening gradually advanced and Ted sought solace in the confines of his bedroom, a newfound aura of privacy enveloped the space. Liberated from prying eyes and the burden of pretence, you and Schlatt nestled intimately on the sofa, cocooned beneath the comforting embrace of a shared blanket. His touch was exquisitely tender, as though he held your body as delicately as fragile glass, ensuring not a single crack would mar your being. Enveloped in his arms, he cradled you against his chest, exuding a profound tenderness. He made up for the day's absence of affection in a single, all-encompassing gesture. The sensation of his lips meeting yours was akin to quenching a parched thirst on a sweltering, humid day, each kiss like a sweet and refreshing gulp of cool water.

Upon your departure, as you turned the key in the lock and stepped back into the familiar embrace of your own space, a curious mix of emotions washed over you. A sense of emptiness seemed to intertwine with the comfort of being home. It was as if a fragment of yourself had remained, tethered to the precious moments shared with Schlatt. Yet, as the days progressed, the weight of his absence became more bearable, for you eagerly anticipated his nightly calls, yearning for the sound of his voice.

In those cherished moments, he would casually recount the events of his day, graciously sharing glimpses of his experiences and expressing his earnest longing to conclude his recordings and return home. In every word he spoke, there lay a genuine interest in your world, as he consistently inquired about your day. His voice, soft and tender, carried a gentle yearning, almost as if he desired to be involved in your own experiences.

As the night grew late and yawns filled the air, a symphony of comfortable silences weaved through your conversation. It became increasingly challenging to bring the call to a close as time slipped away. The hesitation to bid farewell lingered in the hushed pauses as if both of you yearned to extend the moment, if only for a fleeting moment longer. Eventually, with a bittersweet sigh, you exchanged goodnight wishes, promising to reconnect tomorrow.

Schlatt eventually flew back home and spent the next few days dedicated to recuperating from the exhausting week of incessant social interactions and filming. Although it was poignant to long for his presence, there was a certain beauty in the introspective moments when you realized how much you genuinely missed him. There were moments when all you craved was to be in Schlatt's presence, to savour the tranquillity of shared silence and revel in the knowledge that you were existing in the same space. It wasn't about engaging in conversation or filling the air with words; it was the comfort of his company, the unspoken understanding that brought a peacefulness to your soul.

After a few days of rest to rejuvenate his weary soul, Schlatt reached out and extended an invitation for you to spend the evening at his apartment. The thought of a relaxed night, enjoying a movie and sharing a couple of beers, filled you with excitement. No longer bound by secrecy or interruptions, this was a chance to deepen your connection and explore the budding feelings between you. As Schlatt swung open the door, a subtle nervousness danced on his lips momentarily before transforming into a warm, genuine smile. "It's nice to see you again," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a hint of genuine affection. Eagerly extending his arms in a welcoming gesture, Schlatt invited you into a warm embrace. With a gentle, hesitant step, you moved closer, allowing his arms to envelop you in a tight, comforting hold. "Nice to see you, too," you reassured him, nuzzling your face into his sweatshirt.

As you crossed the threshold into his apartment, Schlatt warmly welcomed you into his sanctuary. It was simply nice to finally see his apartment in person, and you were pleasantly surprised by the simple yet homely decor that adorned his walls. Framed photos of family and friends brought a sense of familiarity, while occasional candles and decor pieces added a touch of charm to the cosy ambience. While Schlatt had always maintained a sense of tidiness, it was clear that he had gone the extra mile to create an impressively well-kept space to impress you.

Lost in the moments of absorbing your surroundings, you were abruptly brought back to the present by the sharp crack and hiss of a can being opened. Startled, you turned your attention towards Schlatt and realized that he had taken the initiative and wandered off to the kitchen, already opening a beer. "Make yourself at home." He insisted, his voice floating back to you, slightly distant but filled with a warm invitation. The sound of the refrigerator door shutting with a succinct thump followed. With light and deliberate steps, you made your way to the inviting couch, your eyes immediately captivated by the beautifully arranged blankets adorning the cushions. Each blanket seemed to be meticulously draped as if Schlatt had invested time and care into ensuring their perfect arrangement.

As you eased yourself into the plush comfort of the couch, you surrendered to its embrace, feeling the weight of the world slide off your shoulders. The soft cushions welcomed you, moulding around your body, offering a sanctuary of relaxation. As you settled in, a sense of tranquillity enveloped you. Amidst the peaceful ambience, you could still discern Schlatt's distant presence in the kitchen. The muffled sounds of his rummaging reached your ears, a symphony of soft thuds as drawers closed and the delicate clattering of items being shifted.

After a momentary absence, Schlatt reappeared, his hands carrying a delightful array of snacks that he meticulously arranged on the coffee table. He carefully positioned a six-pack of cans alongside the tempting treats, pausing for a fleeting instant as he contemplated if it would suffice. Finally, he settled down beside you on the couch, his gaze reflecting a mix of anticipation and contentment. As his gaze shifted towards you, a faint trace of nervousness revealed itself on Schlatt's face. "I have a fantastic film in mind, unless you have something specific you'd like to watch," he said, his grin revealing a touch of excitement. His eyes danced around, subtly studying your features as if searching for a clue to your preferences.

You gently shake your head, settling it back onto the soft cushions of the couch, and gaze up at Schlatt. Sensing your relaxation, he reaches out with the hand closest to you, using his fingertips to tenderly massage your scalp. With an eager undertone, Schlatt softly declared, "We're watching Transformers then." Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from your scalp and leaned forward, stretching his arm to retrieve the open can of beer. Taking a hearty swig from the can, he released a gruff exhale, the effervescent bubbles tickling his throat.

Eventually starting the movie, the two of you settled in sipping from your cans of beer and intermittently nibbling on the snacks. Amidst the unfolding scenes, Schlatt would occasionally pause the movie with his remarks, interjecting obscure and fascinating fun facts or drawing attention to subtle editing details. It almost seemed intentional, as if Schlatt strategically timed his interruptions to elicit laughter from you. With each witty remark or amusing fact, his eyes would twinkle mischievously, reflecting the joy he derived from making you chuckle.

As the night unfolded, a gradual intimacy permeated the atmosphere, drawing you closer together. You sought comfort in the secure enclave of his arm, nestled beneath a cosy fortress of blankets. With heightened senses, you became attuned to the serene rhythm of his chest, rising and falling in tranquil harmony, accompanied by the gentle cadence of his soft exhales. As you snuggled closer, finding comfort in his warm embrace, he hesitated to disrupt the delicate equilibrium by reaching for his drink. The allure of your shared embrace outweighed any thirst, and in that precious moment, he chose to forego finishing his beer, cherishing your touch and warmth.

As the movie neared its inevitable conclusion, your eyes briefly shifted to the coffee table, noticing the emptied ramekins and scattered cans that adorned its surface. At that moment, Schlatt's gaze found yours, his touch tracing a tender path along your arm. With a hint of tipsy mischievousness lacing his voice, he posed an innocent yet enticing question, "Want to do something fun?" The ambiguity of his intent added a layer of intrigue, piquing your curiosity and leaving you wondering what exciting adventure lay ahead.

Schlatt's question lingers in the air, his playful tone sparking a surge of anticipation within you. The possibilities, far-reaching and unknown, blossom vividly in your mind. You find yourself unable to resist the enticing invitation, your curiosity overtaking any lingering doubts or hesitations. With an insuppressible smile playing upon your lips, you lean in closer to Schlatt, causing the gentle touch of your arm against his to intensify. "What did you have in mind?" you inquire, a playful lilt colouring your voice, matching Schlatt's mischievous tone. Your gaze fixates on his face, searching for subtle hints, a flicker of desire that might betray his intentions. With an arched eyebrow and a teasing smile, you await his response, ready to embark on whatever thrilling adventure he has in store.

A sly grin, laced with mischief, tugs at the corners of Schlatt's lips, revealing a hint of his playful nature. With a relaxed posture, he leans back against the plush cushions of the couch, his body language exuding confidence and ease. His piercing gaze remains unwavering, locked onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. The soft glow of the room casts intriguing shadows across his angular features, highlighting the subtle stubble on his jawline and the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"I thought we could play a little game," he finally reveals, his voice laced with a tantalizing hint of mischief. The timbre of his voice sends a delicious shiver down your spine, while his hand, still delicately resting upon your arm, begins its gradual ascent, caressing your skin with a featherlight touch. You find yourself mesmerized by the subtle trail his fingertips trace along the curve of your shoulder, their gentle exploration leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. As his touch lingers on your collarbone, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins, the connection between you growing more electrifying with each passing moment. Schlatt's captivating gaze holds you captive, his eyes filled with a mix of playful invitation and unspoken intensity. The soft glow of the room casts alluring shadows across his chiselled features, accentuating the hint of stubble on his jawline.

Your heart quickens its pace, the anticipation mingling with a hint of curiosity as Schlatt's voice drops to a low, smoky murmur. "How about a game of pool? I've been practising," he suggests his words carrying an undertone of something more profound than a simple invitation to play a game. You meet his gaze with a playful glimmer in your eyes, nodding in agreement. "How about this? Whoever pots a ball gets to choose a shot for the other person," you suggest with a teasing grin, a hint of anticipation lacing your voice. The challenge is clear as you lock eyes, both aware of the underlying excitement and potential for mischief that this game holds.

Schlatt's eyes widen, a glimmer of excitement dancing within their depths, as he absorbs your proposition. His head tilts ever so slightly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face like wildfire. The air crackles with electric anticipation as he leans in closer, his voice laced with a tantalizing blend of anticipation and unspoken desires. His lips curl into a devilish smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief and anticipation. "Oh, sweetheart, you've got yourself a deal," he retorts, his voice dripping with playful allure.

Your heart skips a beat at the easy familiarity in his voice, the gentle pet name slipping from his lips effortlessly. It's a simple gesture, but it sets your heart aflutter and sends a rush of warmth coursing through your veins. Schlatt's lips graze yours in a tender, lingering kiss, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. As he pulls away, an impish glint dances in his eyes, and he rises from the couch with a sense of purpose.

Entering the kitchen with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, your eyes are drawn to Schlatt as he skillfully retrieves an array of half-full liquor bottles from his well-stocked cabinet. The melodic sound of liquid swirling and glass delicately clinking fills the air, adding an air of excitement to the atmosphere. With a playful smirk, Schlatt arranges the bottles on the countertop, creating a colourful display of possibilities. "Pick your poison," he teases, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he surveys the selection. "But don't get too excited, I'll be the one potting the balls," he adds with a cocky grin, savouring the anticipation of the upcoming game.

Taking a moment to find your footing, you revel in the delightful buzz of the alcohol coursing through your veins, injecting a newfound boldness into your movements. Your fingers delicately grip the cue, feeling the smoothness of the chalk as you apply it to the tip, ensuring maximum control over your shots. Your attention shifts to Schlatt, his gaze locked onto the neatly arranged triangle of balls, his intense focus a testament to his unwavering confidence. The room seems to pulsate with anticipation as he prepares for the break. With a powerful stroke, Schlatt sends the cue ball hurtling across the smooth expanse of green felt, the resounding crack echoing through the room. The balls erupt in a frenzied dance, colliding with calculated precision and finding their destined pockets with almost mesmerizing grace.

Confidence radiates from your very being as you approach the pool table, "Good luck," Schlatt says, a hint of mischief shining in his eyes as he aims to disrupt your focus. With a focused gaze, you assess the remaining balls, searching for the perfect target. Your eyes land on a vibrant striped ball, beckoning you with its alluring colours. Taking a moment to steady yourself, you grip the cue firmly, feeling the smooth wood against your fingertips. Your mind calculates the angles, envisioning the trajectory of the shot. In a seamless motion, you bring the cue back and forth, delivering a decisive strike to the ball. The room fills with the satisfying thud of impact, followed by a collective intake of breath as the striped ball embarks on its journey. It dances along the edge, defying gravity for a suspended moment, before succumbing to the gravitational pull and gracefully finding its rightful place within the pocket. A surge of elation washes over you, a victorious smile adorning your lips as you revel in the precision of your aim.

A triumphant smile spreads across your face, the rush of accomplishment fueling your competitive spirit. "Looks like I get to choose a shot," you declare, your voice filled with playful triumph. Schlatt's eyes narrow, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths. His expression carries a hint of surprise as if he didn't expect you to make such a skilful shot. "Alright, surprise me," he challenges with a smirk, his gaze fixed on you, his dark irises captivating and intriguing.

You make your way to the kitchen, the clinking of the shot glass against the countertop echoing in the quiet room. With deliberate movements, you pour a clear liquid into the glass, the transparent liquid shimmering under the soft glow of the overhead lights. As you return, your footsteps almost soundless, Schlatt's eyes never waver from your form, his gaze fixated on you with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation. A satisfied smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he leans against the wall, cue in hand, exuding a sense of relaxed confidence. The room feels charged with a subtle tension, the air thick with suspense.

"Bottoms up," you murmur, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you hand over the shot glass. Schlatt's gaze narrows slightly, a mix of curiosity and wariness evident in his expression as he takes the glass in his hand. Without a moment's hesitation, he brings it to his lips and downs the liquid in one swift motion. His features contort briefly, a faint grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he quickly suppresses it with a gruff exhale. He firmly plants the empty glass onto a nearby surface, his brows furrowing in mild surprise. "I didn't realize I had sambuca," he mutters, shaking his head as if trying to rid his taste buds of the lingering flavour.

As you lean over the table to line up your next shot, a playful grin dancing on your lips, you unintentionally press your behind against Schlatt's crotch. A jolt of electricity courses through your body at the accidental contact, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. However, Schlatt surprises you by stepping back, a mix of playful banter and confidence, yet conflicting with underlying nervousness evident in his voice. "Stop trying to distract me, sweetheart, it's not going to work," he jests, his tone laced with a hint of enjoyment from the fleeting touch. The moment hangs in the air, charged with a blend of tension and anticipation before the game resumes with renewed energy.

As you refocus on the game, a surge of anticipation courses through your veins, infusing your every movement with a heightened edge. The clack of the cue against the ball resonates through the room, a resolute symphony of determination. Your shot is executed with precision, the ball rolling across the green felt, but alas, it falls just short of the intended hole. Schlatt steps up to the table, his presence commanding and confident. With a masterful stroke, he forcefully strikes the cue ball, unleashing a powerful ripple of energy that reverberates through the room. The balls scatter and collide, their rapid movements accompanied by the abrupt clattering of their impact. Amid the chaos, a solid-coloured ball gracefully finds its way into a waiting pocket, eliciting a satisfied nod from Schlatt.

With a flicker of movement, he disappears from view, only to reappear moments later, clutching a shot glass filled with liquid gold. The radiant glow of the golden elixir dances under the warm ambience of the room, beckoning you closer with its alluring shimmer. He holds the glass delicately, his gaze fixed on you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. As you meet his gaze, you can sense a subtle haze of alcohol swirling within. With a gentle yet deliberate motion, he extends his hand, offering you the shot glass. As your fingers intertwine, a subtle spark of electricity passes between you, sending a tingle of anticipation through your veins. Without hesitation, you raise the glass to your lips, the sweet aroma wafting into your nostrils, heightening your senses. The liquid dances across your tongue, its potent flavour bursting on your taste buds, momentarily overwhelming your senses with its intensity.

"Honey Whiskey," Schlatt smiles, his fingers gently wrapping around the shot glass as he takes it from your hand. He sets it down with a satisfied grin, his eyes lingering on the slight grimace that dances across your face. The taste of the potent liquor lingers on your tongue, leaving a mix of sweetness and warmth.

As Schlatt lines up his second shot, you can't help but admire the focused intensity on his face. His brows furrow slightly, showcasing his determination, while a subtle curve graces his lips. His commanding presence looms over the table, his tall frame exuding confidence and ease. With practised precision, he pulls the cue back, his movements fluid and calculated. The sound of the cue striking the ball fills the room, the force behind it evident as the ball rolls effortlessly across the felt, knocking a solid. It slows down, teetering on the edge of the net, its journey seemingly suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch with bated anticipation. Every second feels like an eternity as the ball hovers on the precipice, defying gravity. And then, with a gentle final nudge, the ball succumbs to gravity's pull. It rolls, ever so slowly, until it finally finds its destination, sinking into the net with a satisfying clink.

Schlatt's cocky demeanour shines through as he turns to you, a self-satisfied smirk playing upon his lips. With a confident swagger, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your form. The warmth of his embrace engulfs you, creating an intimate connection between you. His teasing words fill the air, laced with a hint of playful charm. "We can stop now," he jests, his voice brimming with faux chivalry, "I wouldn't want to show you up. That wouldn't be very gentleman-like of me." His embrace tightens, pulling you into a comfortable side hug.

A playful glint dances in your eyes as you scoff, playing along with the charade of fake gallantry. With a gentle push, you jestingly push Schlatt away, your playful banter filling the air. "That's fine," you retort, a coy smile gracing your lips, "if you keep potting balls, I won't be able to bend over the table to hit anything." The puckish insinuation lingers in the air, suffused with a seductive undertone that ignites a playful spark. Schlatt's ardent gaze locks onto yours, a flicker of amusement dancing within the depths of his dark eyes. His lips part, poised to respond, but a brief hesitation stifles his words. Instead, a knowing smirk curves his lips, his gaze momentarily tracing the contours of your body before returning to meet your eyes. The air between you crackles with unspoken tension.

A gentle heat spreads through your body as Schlatt's hand brushes against the small of your back, leaving a lingering sensation that sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that intensifies with each passing moment. As he ventures deeper into the kitchen, your mind swirls with a potent blend of emotions, unsure if it's the electric tension between you or the intoxicating effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins that fuels the rising heat within you.

Once again, Schlatt reappears, a shot glass held delicately in his hand. The translucent liquid within seems to shift and shimmer, captivating your gaze. With a mix of eagerness and a subtle hint of apprehension, he extends the glass towards you. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you accept the offering, raising the glass to your lips. As the liquid hits your tongue, a sharp, bitter taste assaults your taste buds, leaving behind an intense sensation akin to swallowing acetone. The burn travels down your throat, eliciting a grimace as you swallow the potent concoction. Schlatt's lips curl into a combination of amusement and a faint grimace as he observes your reaction. There's a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as if he relishes in the mix of surprise and amusement that his concoction has provoked.

"I'll let you play now, otherwise I'm going to be sober," he remarks with an innocent tone, taking a step back from the table. However, he doesn't stray too far, lingering nearby. The warmth of his presence envelopes you, a tangible reminder of his proximity. As you prepare to line up your shot, the sheer size of the table requires you to lean over again, unintentionally pushing your rear upward into the air. The suggestive posture draws a mischievous glimmer to Schlatt's eyes as he appreciates the view. As you focus on perfecting the angle of your shot, meticulously pulling the cue back and forth, you're suddenly aware of the large presence of Schlatt behind you. His hand, warm and gentle, caresses the curve of your hip, sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through your body.

"Go away," you playfully retort your tone a mix of feigned annoyance and longing. Although you need full concentration, there's a part of you that doesn't want him to leave. "Alright, alright," Schlatt chuckles softly, his touch reluctantly retreating from your body. He takes a step back, allowing you the space and concentration you need for your shot. Despite the light-hearted exchange, the absence of his touch leaves a subtle longing in the air, a desire for his presence to linger just a little while longer.

With unwavering determination, you position yourself, aligning your body and mind for the impending shot. The weight of the cue in your hand feels familiar, providing a sense of stability and control. Your focus narrows, blocking out any distractions as you immerse yourself in the challenge before you. Thoughts of strategy and precision consume your mind, mapping out the path of the ball in your imagination. As the tension mounts, a surge of adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses. You inhale deeply, savouring the momentary calm before unleashing your precise stroke, the cue gliding smoothly through the air. The resounding crack of the cue meeting the ball fills the room, a harmonious echo of determination. The ball, propelled by your skilled stroke, dances across the table, gracefully navigating its way past obstacles. With every calculated movement, the tension in the air intensifies, building towards a climactic moment. And then, as if guided by an invisible hand, the ball finds its mark, slipping into the pocket with a satisfying thud.

A triumphant smile graces your lips as you turn to meet Schlatt's gaze, your eyes locked in a captivating exchange. The room seems to pulse with an electric charge, the air heavy with a blend of desire and playful challenge. The flicker of anticipation in his eyes reflects your own, creating an intoxicating dance of unspoken attraction.

"You're not too bad yourself," Schlatt comments, his voice tinged with a husky blend of admiration and amusement. His gaze lingers on your form, unabashed desire evident in his eyes. The typically laid-back demeanour he exudes teeters on the edge, his natural confidence bordering on a brashness that can barely be contained. With each step he takes closer, the space between you diminishes, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, creating a tantalizing sensation that sends shivers down your spine.

A surge of exhilaration rushes through your veins as he closes the distance between you, his touch sending sparks of anticipation dancing along your skin. The gentle brush of his hand against your arm ignites a trail of sensations. As he leans in, his lips find yours in a fiery, passionate collision. The kiss is electric, a whirlwind of intense emotions and pent-up longing. Your bodies meld together, responding to the magnetic pull that draws you closer, as the world around you fades into a blur of sensations. The heat between you intensifies, creating an all-encompassing vortex of passion and fervour. At that moment, nothing else matters but the intoxicating dance of your lips and the undeniable connection that binds you together.

The world around you melts away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a passionate embrace. Schlatt's hands, guided by both desire and a hint of recklessness, traverse the contours of your body with a familiarity that sets your skin ablaze. Every touch is a symphony of pleasure, each caress igniting a cascade of electrifying sensations that leave you breathless. As fervour takes hold, the game is forgotten, its subtle existence eclipsed by the explosive burst of passion that consumes you both.

As you pull away, a mingling of emotions floods your senses, swirling within you like a tempestuous storm. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the moment. Your eyes meet Schlatt's, searching his gaze for a glimpse into his emotional landscape. In the depths of his eyes, you catch a spark of intensity, a reflection of the myriad emotions that swirl within him. Nervousness flits through your veins, a delicate tremor that accentuates the gravity of the situation. The vulnerability that accompanies an intimate connection dances on the edges of your consciousness, weaving its way into your thoughts. A tinge of self-doubt tugs at the corners of your mind, silently questioning if you're ready to fully embrace the depths of what this moment may hold.

Lust, with its alluring pull, courses through your veins, casting a hazy veil over your senses. The simmering heat that pulsates between you is a magnetic force, drawing you closer with an irresistible pull. Desire rises within you, an intoxicating blend of raw need and longing. Your body yearns for more, craving the touch of his hands, the taste of his lips, and the euphoria that awaits in the depths of passion. Happiness, too, dances within your being, a flickering flame that warms your heart. The connection you've forged, the palpable chemistry that funds the air, carries with it a sense of joy. At this moment, all worries and cares seem to fade away, replaced by an innate bliss that radiates from within.

Heart pounding, you take a moment to steady yourself, allowing the swell of emotions to settle. You meet Schlatt's gaze once again, determination shining in your eyes. You know what you want, even amidst the whirlwind of sensations coursing through your being. And with that certainty, a playful smile tugs at the corners of your lips, a silent invitation to continue on this exhilarating journey together. As you reach out, your fingers intertwining with Schlatt's, you take a step forward, closing the gap between you. A renewed sense of anticipation fills the air, igniting a fire within you that refuses to be extinguished. At that moment, you both surrender to the waves of desire, exploring the uncharted territories of pleasure that lie before you, ready to delve into the depths of this intimate connection.

"I want you, Schlatt," you speak with underlying nervousness, although sure of your own words. A surge of vulnerability intertwines with your resolute desire as you voice your innermost desires. Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation and a fragment of nervousness that lingers like a delicate mist. Schlatt's eyes lock onto yours, a sea of emotions swirling within their depths. Surprise passes through Schlatt's features, momentarily breaking through his typically confident facade. His gaze softens, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability that mirrors your own. There's a pause, a fleeting moment where time seems to stand still as he contemplates his response.

A breath escapes his lips, the sound carrying an undercurrent of raw need. His gaze never wavers from yours, locked in a captivating exchange that transcends the barriers of words. The air around you thickens with anticipation, the atmosphere pulsating with magnetic energy. Schlatt's voice, tinged with a husky vulnerability, resonates with a fervent intensity as he finally finds his words. The admission spills forth, baring his desires with a breathtaking honesty that leaves you captivated. "I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," he confesses, the weight of his words hanging in the air, charged with the weight of his longing.

With a rush of exhilaration coursing through your veins, you lean in, closing the physical and emotional distance between you and Schlatt. The taste of alcohol lingers on your lips, intertwining with the budding passion that brews within. Your kiss is passionate and hungry, a meeting of lips that speaks volumes, transcending the confines of words. It's a dance of tongues and desires, a symphony of the senses that leaves you both breathless.

link to the rest of my work [x]

[acutabovetherest]

[silverthelovebug]

Cupid Deity Horror this, Cupid Deity Horror that, grow up!!!

Where’s my actually canon horror, where’s my illegal crimes in EAH?

Yeah I’m talking about c@nnibal Ginger Breadhouse.

A guilty pleasure of mine are those two sole fics on AO3 that delve into what if Ginger was just really fucked up I have a love-hate relationship with horror to the point I’m morbidly curious about it and!!!! I’m so fascinated with the fact Ginger’s bloodline HAS eaten people. Sure her mother might’ve not, but what about, like, two generations before her?? What causes that craving? Was it just expected of them based on their story? Ginger in canon has a Raven type beat where she’s trying to break those stereotypes to be perceived in a more positive light, but why has the role of the Candy Witch persisted so long? Is it an active choice or something that you are destined to do? What makes Ginger exempt from the rule? Ginger being a c@nnibal is just such a dark viewing on the destiny system and how it will catch up to you, whether you’re ready for it or not.

Peep that fic where she full on eats Cerise and tastes Raven’s blood.

ALSO ALSO I saw this Headcanon where the story that her mother never did anything wrong was a lie Ginger told herself to make herself feel better, especially bc she was distancing herself already from her family by changing her last name to Breadhouse.

Obviously this is all furthest from canon, but what a thought experiment!!!!! (I want more content of this)

[dumbandpoetical]

babygirl I can feel guilty for things that wouldn't even cross your mind

[liviekeepsbreathing]

Words

I cuss out my parents like I do anybody else. They’re just regular people after all; They fuck up, they yell, and they make mistakes and I am one of them. I will forever resent them for the gift of being alive, so I tell my father to shut the fuck up. Because he’s loud and obnoxious and gets on my nerves. He is a man in his fifties he should’ve learned how to behave by now, like how I learned to push certain parts of myself down when I was just a little girl. I know I’ll regret my words, when one day 30 years from now my teenage daughter yells at me, tells me I’m a bad mother, and mumbles under her breath that her sister was more of a positive influence than I ever was. Then I’ll know what it is like to be my mother, will finally understand her defensiveness and her tears when we bring up her faults, and maybe then I’ll start treating my parents as people bound to me by more than just blood, maybe then I’ll whisper I’m sorry and won’t feel the need to hear it back.

I'm sorry Mom and Dad

[maliciouspisser]

Me holding in a whole bunch of smoke if a child walks by me on my cigarette break

[fitfmybeloved]

on needing

[haikuku]

Daily Haikuku, no. 363

I lost my little stuffed dog, broke my heart. Why make me feel even worse?

--haikuku

[nvmadic]

GUILT AND SHAME - 01

synopsis: after a messy dispute revolving around your toxic boyfriend, schlatt takes matters into his own hands and puts your safety over his. some feelings are unearthed that need dealing with. words: 7,130 warnings: drinking, toxic relationship, fighting, mild language notes: she/her pronouns used + reader wearing a dress

As you stood in front of the mirror, admiring the image of a confident and beautiful version of yourself, your boyfriend's voice cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. His words dripped with disappointment and disapproval, making your heart sink. "I don't think I like this one," he said, his face twisted with a frown as he examined your dress. The underlying sense of dissatisfaction etched on his face made you feel self-conscious, and you suddenly became aware of how much skin the dress exposed. He sat at the edge of the bed, watching you with an exasperated glare, while you tried to hide the insecurity creeping up inside you. Your smile vanished in a split second, and your confidence evaporated into thin air, like a mist that disappeared under the harsh light of reality. His words hit you like a ton of bricks, shattering your self-assurance into a million pieces.

"You've already made me try on ten different dresses, I think this one's okay," you replied, unable to suppress the underlying frustration in your voice. You didn't want to waste any more time trying on different outfits that he would just criticize anyway. Examining yourself in the mirror once more, you noticed that he was still watching you, his eyes scanning your body as if he owned it. The possessive glint in his eyes made you feel wanted and desired and was somewhat endearing. He stood up, his eyes softening as he leaned in to brush a rogue strand of hair away from your face. "I just don't want people to be admiring what's mine," he stated with a smile, his fingertips grazing your face as he intently admired you.

As the notification pinged on his phone, he reluctantly pulled himself from the comfort of your bed, watching you bustle around your bedroom to gather your things. His tone was innocent enough, but there was a subtle edge to his question that you couldn't ignore. "Who's coming tonight?" he asked, his voice showing a hint of suspicion. You shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the possibility that he was trying to control who you spent time with. "Not sure, just a lot of people," you replied, your keys jingled as your locked your front door and placed them into your purse. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he opened the car door for you, his hand gently guiding you towards the waiting car. "Well, then I'll just have to stay with you to make sure I don't lose you," he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin. Despite the unease in the back of your mind, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth at his words; it was a sweet enough gesture.

Nestling into the backseat of the Uber, the scent of the leather seats and the gentle hum of the engine did little to quell the knot of nervousness that had formed in your stomach. The bright lights of the city flashed by in a blur, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to add to your unease. The noise of honking cars and bustling crowds filled your ears, drowning out your thoughts and leaving you feeling on edge. Despite your boyfriend's hand resting on your thigh, you couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension, as if you were walking into an unknown and potentially dangerous situation. The ride seemed to last forever, each passing moment bringing you closer to your destination and your mounting anxiety.

As you emerged from the car, the frigid night air nipped at your cheeks, sending a shiver down your spine. It wasn't just the chilly temperature that made you quiver, however, you knew he had a tendency towards jealousy, and the mere possibility of confrontation made your stomach churn. The air was thick with the sound of laughter and music, and the atmosphere hummed with palpable excitement, but it was tempered by a creeping sense of unease. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, as you ascended the front steps. The porch light illuminated the faces of the partygoers, casting eerie shadows that seemed to flicker and dance in the night. You scanned the crowd, but you couldn't spot anyone you knew yet. Your boyfriend's hand pressed firmly on your back, directing you towards the entrance, and you couldn't help but feel both relieved and apprehensive.

As you stepped into the party, the atmosphere engulfed you like a tidal wave of energy. The pungent smell of alcohol, sweat, and cologne hung heavily in the air as if daring you to navigate through the throngs of strangers. The music thumped loudly, making it difficult to hear your own thoughts. You scanned the crowd, noting the faces of unknown individuals in various states of intoxication. The cacophony of voices melded into a blur of sound, leaving you feeling like an outsider in a sea of conviviality. But then, your boyfriend's voice broke through the clamour, drawing you back to reality, "I'm going to go and get us some drinks don't go too far." He gave you a tender peck on the cheek and disappeared into the chaos. His cologne lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of his presence, leaving you feeling more isolated in the crowd. Nonetheless, your boyfriend was never one to leave you to your own devices for long.

Startled and caught off guard, you were momentarily frightened until a sudden, overwhelming wave of perfume assaulted your senses. An arm wrangled over your shoulder, pulling you back into a tight embrace with a forceful tug. The pulsating music thudded through the floor, reverberating through your chest as you strained to hear over the deafening noise of the party. Despite being in such close proximity that you could feel her hot breath on your neck, the words QT spoke were barely audible, lost in the cacophony of the crowd. As you turned to face her, you couldn't help but notice the warmth of her smile and the twinkle in her eyes that spoke volumes of the genuine happiness she felt at seeing you. You felt a pang of guilt, realizing that it had been months since you last saw her due to both of your busy schedules. However, you pushed the feeling aside, reminding yourself that you were together now, and that's all that mattered. You spoke for a while, lost in each other's company until you suddenly became aware of your empty hands and your sobriety. With a final goodbye, you set off on a quest to find your elusive boyfriend, disappearing into the sea of people once more.

As you made your way through the chaotic party, you couldn't help but marvel at how many people were crammed into one house. It was a true testament to your friend's social prowess. Pushing your way through the thick crowd, you couldn't avoid brushing against strangers who seemed completely unaware of their surroundings, It was tough to keep your balance amidst the groups of guests. It was like you were a tiny boat trying to stay afloat in a raging sea. Suddenly, someone who was clearly in as much of a hurry to get somewhere as you were, crashed into you. You stumbled and almost fell, but you simply just toppled into them as they barely budged, their tall sturdy figure acting as a cushion.

Grinning playfully, they jested, "Seems like you've had one too many, huh?" You stammered out a series of apologies, straightening your dress and composing yourself. Finally meeting Schlatt's gaze, you saw his brow raised and a mischievous grin on his lips. "You seem pretty sober," he observed, scrutinizing you with his eyes for a moment longer than necessary. He then took a swig from his bottle of honey-coloured beer, the liquid sloshing around inside. "I just got here," you explained as he finished his drink. "Why didn't you dress up?" you asked, looking at his casual attire of khakis, a sweater, and a cap, whilst everyone else was wearing something smart casual. He simply shrugged. "I'm not sure if I'll be sticking around long enough to bother dressing up," he replied, toying with the empty glass in his hand. You nodded in understanding, but as you tried to catch his eye, you noticed that he was scanning the crowd intently as if searching for someone or something.

As you spoke, his eyes softened and he half-smiled, "Have you lost someone?" you inquired. "No," he replied simply, his voice low and mellow, "I just didn't realize it had gotten this busy in here," he said, but his eyes told a different story. Despite the discrepancy, you didn't press the matter. Schlatt fiddled with the bottle in his hand, then looked up at you, "You look nice, by the way," he complimented you, causing a warm glow to spread through you. Almost immediately, though, you felt guilty for enjoying it. "Thanks," you replied coyly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I'm thinking maybe I should have dressed up now you're making me feel underdressed," he admitted with a hint of self-deprecation. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you jested, "You look alright, I suppose." His expressions softened, and he chuckled softly, "Alright," he mimicked you, "I'll take it, I guess." You both laughed, the sound barely audible over the jarring noise of the crowd. It was only then that you noticed how close you were standing to him. The heat radiating from his body almost touched yours, and the air between you was charged with a strange energy.

As a possessive grip took hold of your hips, you were pulled in by your boyfriend's confident demeanour. With a cocky grin spread across his face and two bottles gripped tightly in his hands, it was as if he was asserting his dominance over the situation. His tug towards him seemed like a demonstration of his control, and his conceited expression was an unmistakable display of his authority. The pull on your body was forceful as if to flaunt his power for all to see, especially Schlatt. The arrogance emanating from him was tangible, and he seemed to relish in his superiority. Schlatt's cheerful demeanour withered, not just from the sight of you being held like a predator with its prey, but from his appearance alone.

As he planted a lingering kiss on your cheek, your boyfriend's grip on your hips tightened. "I got your drink, babe," he declared with a hint of aggression, thrusting the glass bottle into your hand. In his eagerness, he spilt some of the golden liquid onto the floor. Schlatt's face twisted into an expression of revulsion, but he quickly concealed it, not wanting to give your boyfriend the satisfaction. "I'll see you around," he said before disappearing into the mob of people. Your annoyance was written all over your face, and your boyfriend's raised eyebrows only added to it. He took a sip of his beer as he asked what bothered you. With a soft tone, you chided him, "We were just talking. What was the need for that?" You toyed with the bottle in your hand, hesitant to start drinking. The bitterness of the beer only seemed to match the sourness of your mood.

With an air of superiority, your boyfriend justified his possessiveness with a condescending explanation. "I know how men operate, I don't trust him around you when he's drunk," he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The suggestion that Schlatt would do something untoward in his inebriated state was absurd, and you couldn't help but recoil at the implication. A scoff escaped your lips as you took a step back, looking at him with disdain. "I can't believe you just said that," you retorted, feeling a wave of anger washing over you, "I'm not your fuckin' pet," you added firmly. Your words were like a cold bucket of water thrown in his face, and your boyfriend's expression quickly turned from anger to surprise. He seemed taken aback by your assertiveness, and you could see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to come up with a response. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke. "I'm sorry," he apologised, his voice low and contrite, "I didn't mean to imply that I don't trust you. It's just that... well, you're so beautiful, and I get jealous sometimes. I don't want to lose you." His tone was apologetic, sincere and filled with love but you'd already heard this a thousand times before and it was the final straw, and quite honestly hearing the words come from his lips made you feel nauseous.

Just as tensions were running high, QT arrived, almost as if on cue. Brazenly, she walked over to you and linked her arm with yours, gently tugging you away from your boyfriend who stood in shock. "Come with me to the bathroom, I need you to help me with my dress," she said softly, her tone a welcome relief from the heated argument. Without looking back, you allowed her to guide you through the sea of people towards the bathroom. Finding a quiet space, away from the chaos of the party, QT guided you to a room and shut the door behind her. Her voice was soft and genuine as she asked, "Is everything okay?" She had been watching and was clearly concerned, as she noticed the tears brimming in your eyes. You felt the tears threatening to spill over as you tried to hold back your emotions, but the concern in her eyes was enough to break your resolve. You let out a shaky breath before pouring out everything that had happened between you and your boyfriend, including the incident with Schlatt. Her lack of surprise was not unexpected, as she had always made her disapproval of how your boyfriend treated you known. Despite her concerns, she respected your decisions and allowed you to make your own choices, as long as you were happy. She agreed to stay nearby and keep an eye out for him, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to approach you until you had calmed down enough to make your own decision on what you wanted to do. Despite her own strong opinions on the matter, she made it clear that she would support whatever decision you made regarding your relationship with him.

As you opened the door to the party, the wave hit you once more. The overwhelming amalgamation of booze and perfumes hit your nostrils and wasn't quite as nauseating as it once was before, you gingerly sipped at your drink and followed your protector to a small group of people out of the way of the main crowd, a quieter place where you could actually hear your own thoughts and not worry about being caught in a stampede. As you joined the group, you recognized a few familiar faces and greeted them with a small smile. You noticed that your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of relief mixed with guilt. You didn't want to cause a scene or ruin anyone's night, but you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling in your gut. The group chatted and laughed, and for a moment, you forgot about your troubles. However, as the night progressed, the alcohol flowed freely, and the energy of the party grew wilder, you finally began to loosen up as it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

It was half an hour to midnight, and you had drank a decent amount of alcohol, enough to the point where you were decently inebriated but you were still very capable. Veering off from the group you were with, you ventured into the crowd to find a toilet. Unavoidably, there was a queue of a few people waiting. The amount of alcohol you had consumed made your abdomen ache, had you been sober you would have been fine, it's almost as if drinking beer shrank your bladder. As you waited in line, you couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about being alone once more in the crowded party. You glanced around nervously, noticing how people were becoming more intoxicated as the night wore on. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned to see Schlatt standing behind you, a look of concern on his face. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked as he leaned in, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. You felt a sense of relief wash over you as you recognized his familiar face. "Yeah, just waiting for the bathroom," you replied, smiling gratefully at him. Schlatt nodded.

"You decided to stay then?" You asked, surprised that he hadn't silently disappeared into the night. He smiled as he thought to himself, "I don't really have anything better to be doing," he stated indifferently. Schlatt's face had a drunken glow as he beamed down at you, his expression calm almost as if he did not have a care in the world. You nodded attentively, not wanting to engage in too much conversation with him as you weren't too sure where your boyfriend was. However, Schlatt seemed intent on talking and began to ramble about various topics, from the latest video games to politics. You found yourself nodding along, trying to be polite, but your mind was elsewhere. As you stood there, waiting for your turn, you couldn't help but think about your relationship with your boyfriend. His possessive behaviour and lack of trust had been slightly bothering you for a while now, but you had always tried to ignore it, hoping that things would get better. But tonight, his behaviour had crossed a line and you knew that you couldn't continue like this. Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when it was your turn to use the bathroom. As you finally entered the bathroom, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was time to reevaluate your relationship.

Finally making your way back to the group after manoeuvring the crowd, it was close enough to midnight that people were soon beginning to count down. You couldn't help but feel a knot in your stomach as everyone else was, you should be standing arm in arm with your boyfriend preparing for a New Year's kiss, but here you were alone. In the midst of the crowd, you noticed a very familiar face who appeared to be extremely drunk; hair dishevelled, clothes ruffled and extremely sloppy looking. It was your boyfriend. Similar to the feeling of going down a slope on a rollercoaster, your stomach dropped when you noticed he was arm-in-arm with another woman. You didn't need to question him any further as on further inspection, he had lipstick marks smeared on his face. Your heart sank as you watched him laughing with her, his hands firmly planted on her hips just like he did to you only a few hours ago. You could feel an interminable amount of anger brewing from within.

He managed to lock eyes with you through the crowd, it was like time slowed down and everything went painfully slow for you to witness. Admittedly, you were hoping for his face to be overwhelmed with a shock that you had caught him, but instead, he just grinned and pulled her closer, his hands wandering her body as if he had done this before, a sense of familiarity. Your heart sank even further as you realized that he didn't even care that you had caught him in the act. It was as if he didn't even have the decency to feel ashamed or guilty. Anger boiled inside you as you watched him continue to flaunt his infidelity in front of you. As the countdown began and the crowd started shouting "3, 2, 1!", he pulled her close and vigorously pressed his lips onto hers, a prolonged kiss to further punish you. Your anger turned into hurt and betrayal as you watched the kiss. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of emotions, unable to process everything that was happening. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as the new year began, but you were oblivious to it all. All you could focus on was the pain of being cheated on and the realization that the person you loved didn't love you back. The betrayal stung, and you wondered how you could have been so blind to not see the signs earlier. He was just projecting everything onto you, and how could someone so obsessed with his girlfriend cheat on her?

Your heart was pounding as you made your way through the sea of people, your eyesight blurry from the tears that wouldn't stop falling. The once festive atmosphere of the party was now suffocating, making it hard to breathe. You just had to get out of there, away from the suffocating atmosphere and the memories that now felt tainted. As you pushed your way through the crowd, the sound of music and laughter ringing in your ears, you felt tears streaming down your face, unchecked and unstoppable. You tried to keep your head down, to avoid the curious gazes of strangers who might wonder what was wrong with you, but it was impossible. You were a mess, a wreck, a walking disaster. It was then that you bumped into Ludwig, his smiling face a sudden intrusion in the midst of your pain. He asked what was wrong, his concern evident in his voice, and you wanted to lash out at him, to scream and curse and blame him for your misery. But you couldn't. He was innocent, and he was trying to help.

As you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you like a slap in the face, the sudden change in temperature causing you to shiver uncontrollably. You glanced up at the sky, taking in the burst of colours and sparkles that illuminated the darkness above you, the fireworks painting a beautiful but surreal scene in the otherwise quiet night. The loud booms echoed in your ears, making you feel even more disoriented and lost. You tried to take a deep breath, but your lungs felt constricted as if the reality of the situation was suffocating you. The sound of the party faded into the background as you struggled to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. Ludwig's voice broke through the silence, calling out to you with a note of panic in his voice. You turned around to see him hurrying towards you, his expression etched with concern. "Wait," he called out again, trying to catch up to you. His footsteps echoed on the pavement, the sound of them reminding you of how alone you felt at that moment. Suddenly, the sight of Schlatt getting into an Uber caught your attention. You were surprised to see him there, as you had presumed that he had gone home. He turned his head in your direction, his eyes widening as he noticed the commotion.

The bitter night air chilled you to the bone as you stood there, the warmth from the party now a distant memory. The glow from the fireworks continued to paint the sky in vibrant colours, adding an eerie beauty to the bleak scene. You could feel the weight of your heartache crushing your chest, making it difficult to breathe. As Schlatt approached, his imposing figure seemed to loom over you, but his gentle demeanour and genuine concern helped ease the tension. It was comforting to have someone there who seemed to understand, even if he didn't know the details of what had happened. Ludwig appeared grateful for Schlatt's intervention, stepping back to give him space to approach you. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your quiet sobs. Schlatt's concern was palpable, and it was clear that he wanted to help in any way he could. You could see his mind working, trying to come up with a way to ease your pain.

Your boyfriend's slurred words were punctuated with the sound of his heavy breathing and the clacking of his shoes on the pavement as he emerged from the house, furious. The sharp scent of alcohol emanated from him as he stumbled closer, his eyes bloodshot and wild with anger. As he spoke, flecks of spittle flew from his mouth, landing on his chin and shirt. The atmosphere around you was heavy with tension, the air seeming to thicken with each passing moment. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you braced yourself for whatever might come next. "It's what you deserved, you bitch!" Exclaimed your drunk boyfriend as he began to stumble through the front door and down the drive, almost falling on his face in the process. At that point, the two boys stood beside you and connected the dots. "And what a surprise to see you here," he growled drunkenly as he looked at Schlatt, his eyes blazing with fury. Schlatt's response was calm and measured. "It's no surprise to me," he said evenly. "I was invited." The tension in the air was palpable as your boyfriend wavered for a moment, seeming to consider his options.

Your boyfriend's words were filled with bitterness and accusation, his voice heavy with rage as he stumbled towards you. "I see the way you look at her, I'm not stupid," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Why are you so hurt? I should be the one that's hurt," he continued, his violent words spewing out of his mouth like venom as he tried to play the victim. With each step he took, his breath became more erratic, and his anger more palpable. "I wouldn't be surprised if you two had been fucking behind my back," he accused, his eyes blazing with fury. "So why am I in the wrong for doing the same?" The accusation hung heavily in the air, casting a dark cloud over the three of you as you stood frozen in shock and disbelief.

"You need to leave," Schlatt's voice was eerily calm, though you could see the anger in his eyes. As he spoke, you could hear the muffled whispers and murmurs of the partygoers gathering around, drawn by the commotion outside. Their curious faces peered out from the windows, and some even emerged from the door to get a better view. The sudden attention made you feel exposed and vulnerable as if every mistake you had ever made was on display for everyone to see. The embarrassment you felt was overwhelming, and you wished you could just disappear. Your mind was a jumbled mess of emotions and thoughts, and it was difficult to even process what was happening. The ground beneath your feet felt unstable as if it could give way at any moment, and you struggled to keep your balance as you stood there, trying to make sense of it all. "Make me," your boyfriend violently spat as he was now within arm's length, the vile smell of alcohol emanating from his mouth. Your boyfriend's words were slurred and aggressive as he stepped even closer, his body tense and ready for a fight. Schlatt stood his ground, his face a mask of anger and frustration, but he didn't move to physically engage with the drunk man. You could feel the tension in the air reaching its peak, as partygoers continued to gather around the scene, murmurs and whispers rippling through the crowd. Your boyfriend's hot breath on your face was suffocating, and you felt a mix of fear and disgust as he continued to spew venomous words. "Make me," he repeated, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to be daring Schlatt to take action. It was clear that things could escalate quickly and you prayed for a peaceful resolution to the situation.

You couldn't help but feel torn between the desire to leave and the morbid fascination with what might unfold, almost as if you were watching a scene from a movie. Schlatt's unyielding presence was like a beacon of hope, his steadfast defence of you a reassuring reminder that not all men were like your drunken boyfriend. Your boyfriend's face twisted into a mask of rage, his fists clenched tightly as he took a step forward, challenging Schlatt to a fight. Schlatt's own fists were balled up, his jaw set in determination, but he didn't move from his spot. Instead, he held your gaze for a moment, a silent message passing between the two of you.

All of a sudden, your boyfriend, his face twisted with anger and drunkenness, had thrown a sloppy punch at Schlatt. In that split second, you could see the fear on Schlatt's face as he defensively pushed your boyfriend back. The suddenness of the violence caught you off guard, and your mind raced as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. As you watched in horror, the situation quickly escalated. Schlatt and your boyfriend were now locked in a violent struggle, their bodies entangled as they threw punches and grappled with each other. Your boyfriend's movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, fueled by the alcohol coursing through his system. Schlatt, on the other hand, seemed to have sobered up and was more agile than the inebriated mess in front of him. He stood his ground and dodged some of your boyfriend's drunken blows.

You stood there frozen, unsure of what to do as the fight continued to escalate. The chaotic scene unfolding in front of you made it difficult to keep track of the action. The air was thick with the sounds of fists striking flesh, grunts of pain, and desperate gasps for air combined with the screaming and shouting of the watchful party attendees. You could see the sweat dripping down the faces of both men, their breathing laboured as they continued to exchange blows. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, every movement amplified, every punch landing with a sickening thud. The anger and frustration in your boyfriend's eyes were palpable, and you knew that he wasn't going to give up easily. You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you, and you desperately searched the crowd for someone who could help. Your boyfriend's movements were sluggish and uncoordinated, his punches lacking any real force or precision. It was clear that he was inebriated and not in control of his actions. Schlatt, on the other hand, had sobered up quickly, and his movements were calculated and precise.

Without hesitating, Ludwig quickly made his way through the crowd of party guests towards the brawl. As he reached the two men, he grabbed your boyfriend from behind, pinning his arms to his sides, and pulled him away from Schlatt. Schlatt stumbled backwards, momentarily disoriented, before regaining his footing and stepping back, his hands raised in a defensive posture. Your boyfriend continued to struggle in Ludwig's grip, his face contorted with rage as he tried to break free. The sudden shift in the situation caught the attention of the other party guests, and several of them rushed over to help. Together, they managed to hold your boyfriend down and calm him down, while Ludwig and another guest escorted him out of the way. You turned to Schlatt, who was still catching his breath and offered him a hand to help him up. He took it gratefully, his expression a mix of relief and anger.

The sound of your voice was barely audible, barely above a whisper, as you managed to utter the two words, "I'm sorry." The weight of guilt and shame felt heavy upon you, causing tears to stream down your face. Your heart ached with regret, and you wished with every fibre of your being that you could turn back time and undo the events that had unfolded. You wished you had never attended the party, that you had stayed home instead. The words felt inadequate to express the depth of your remorse, but they were all you could muster at that moment. You lowered your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, consumed by the overwhelming sense of guilt that washed over you. "It's not your fault," Schlatt muttered hoarsely, his voice strained from the struggle, as you continued to stare at your feet, not wanting to look at his bruised face. His words brought you little comfort, as you still felt responsible for the chaos that had erupted.

After Schlatt had reassured you, the silence between the two of you was heavy, as you both struggled to come to terms with the violent events that had just unfolded. Finally, you mustered the courage to look up at Schlatt, his face now slightly discoloured and bloody from the fight. You asked him, "Are you okay?" Your voice was barely audible, still trembling from the shock of what had happened. Schlatt nodded, it seemed as if he was in more shock than pain despite the way his face was blemished with the lingering stains of the punches.

His face was still bloodied, you couldn't really help but notice how his brows furrowed, and how the moonlight accentuated his prominent features. Pulling you from a trance, "Let me take you home." Schlatt insisted, wiping his nose from the red liquid that was still slowly dripping. You were so close to just insisting that he go home himself as you had already gotten him in enough trouble but you secretly craved his company. You shyly nodded, turning around to your surprise to see that Schlatt's Uber was still parked on the curb, the driver obviously getting engrossed in all of the chaos that unfolded.

Schlatt opened the door for you and helped you into the back seat, careful not to get any blood on you. As he got in beside you, you couldn't help but notice how close he was sitting. You could feel his warmth radiating off him, and the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. Despite the events of the night, being this close to him was comforting in a way that you couldn't quite explain. As the engine purred as the car pulled away from the curb, you stole a glance at Schlatt. Schlatt seemed lost in thought, his eyes staring blankly out the window. You wondered what he was thinking about, whether he was regretting the events of the night or if he was simply lost in his own world. You noticed the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, his muscles tense with a quiet intensity. It was clear that he was still processing everything that had happened that night,

s you sat in the car, the silence felt like a welcome respite from the chaos of the night. You took a deep breath and leaned your head against the window, watching the city lights pass by in a blur. The rhythmic sound of the car engine provided a sense of comfort, but as you neared your apartment building, a feeling of unease began to bubble up inside you. You didn't want to venture out alone, not with the silence being a microphone for your own horrible thoughts.

After a moment of hesitation, you turned to Schlatt and asked softly, "Do you want to come in?" His surprise was evident as he swivelled his head towards you, a glint in his eyes. His response was just as soft, still laced with the daze of the night, "Sure." As you got out of the car and made your way to the entrance of the building, fumbling with your keys as he stood behind you. As you slowly made your way to your apartment door, you couldn't help but feel a wave of comfort knowing he was with you. It was nice to know how he didn't push for conversation and just followed you quietly. Once inside, your numbed body collapsed onto the couch as you let out a deep sigh, not even having bothered to turn on the lights, the darkness was almost a comfort in itself.

As Schlatt followed you in, he lingered by the doorway of the hallway, looking around at the surroundings that were shrouded in a veil of darkness, taking in what he could of his new surroundings. "Are you okay?" He asked, which amused you slightly, knowing it was a silly question but his heart was in the right place. "I just," you stammered, staring into space, "I just don't know." But unlike your boyfriend, you knew you didn't need to give him a concise answer as he understood you, he always had. It was clear that he didn't want to bring up the wrong thing or say something that would upset you even further, so he remained silent. It was so quiet you could hear his fingers comb through the facial hair on his cheeks, even being able to hear his weight shifting from one leg to the other as the floorboards creaked.

"Was he right?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question had been nagging at you all night, and you couldn't keep it bottled up any longer. Schlatt's silence made your heart race as you awaited his response. He leaned against the doorway, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights outside. "Was he ever right about anything?" he finally replied, his tone cold and dismissive. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful that he was on your side. But as you held his gaze, doubts crept in, and you wondered if he was just saying what you wanted to hear. You didn't want to push him further, knowing he had already been through enough that night. So you remained silent, letting the conversation come to a natural end.

Schlatt finally straightened himself and wandered off into your apartment, his footsteps heavy and concise as he began to explore. You watched as he took in his surroundings with a curious gaze, his eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other. He seemed lost in thought as he wandered through the living room and into the kitchen, the fridge door swinging open with a creak followed by a faint buzz of static. You couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you as you listened to the sound of him rummaging through your fridge, the clinking of glass bottles and the rustling of plastic containers filling the silence of the apartment.

As he settled onto the couch, you noticed how he winced as he shifted his weight, indicating that he was probably still in pain. His eyes looked tired, and his movements were slow and deliberate. He handed you the bottle of water with a gentle grip, careful not to spill any of it, and you eagerly took a long gulp of the refreshing liquid, feeling the coolness of it spread throughout your body. Meanwhile, Schlatt had retrieved a bag of frozen vegetables from your freezer and was now holding it to his swollen face. You couldn't help but wince at the sight, still feeling guilty for dragging him into the mess that had transpired earlier. "Thanks for this," you said, gesturing towards the water bottle. Schlatt simply nodded in response, his eyes closed as he leaned his head back against the couch with an exhausted exhale. You leaned your head back as well, feeling the exhaustion begin to wash over you.

As the silence stretched on, your mind raced as you replayed the events of the night over and over again. You couldn't help but notice the way Schlatt had complimented you, how his gaze had lingered just a little too long. Was it all in your head, or did he feel something too? The possibility made your heart race, but you quickly tried to quell those thoughts, knowing that it was probably just wishful thinking on your part. The sound of his breathing next to you was a comforting presence, but at the same time, it only made you more aware of the thoughts swirling in your head.

Your hand felt heavy as if it was filled with lead, but you couldn't stop yourself from inching it closer to him. Your fingers trembled as they delicately danced towards his thigh, almost as if they were detached from your brain. You knew it was a bad idea, but the temptation was too strong to ignore. His eyes met yours as he looked at you with a mix of emotions, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. His hand moved to yours, his fingers interlocking with yours, and a gentle warmth radiated from his touch. You both sat there for what felt like an eternity, lost in the moment, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart to fill the silence, but as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. He pulled away abruptly, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. He averted his gaze, frustration etched onto his features, and you could feel your heart sink at the sudden shift in mood.

He announced, his tone slightly chagrined, "I think you're confused." He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before continuing, "I want you to be sure of what you're doing before you start messing with my feelings," he admitted. His eyes held a mix of vulnerability and caution as he looked at you, waiting for your response. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt and uncertainty, realizing that you might have been acting impulsively without considering the potential consequences. You sat there, nodding slowly in agreement, the weight of his words sinking in. Deep down, you knew he was right, and you had to come to terms with your own feelings before potentially hurting him. It was easy to get caught up in the moment, especially when you had been longing for this kind of attention for so long. But you couldn't deny the nagging doubts that lingered in the back of your mind.

"I should probably head home," he said, groaning as he stood up from the couch. His eyes seemed unusually gentle as he looked down at you, almost as if he felt a tinge of regret for leaving you in this state. "Take all the time you need," he added, "and get some rest." You watched in silence as he moved around the apartment, returning the frozen vegetables to the freezer and making his way towards the front door. He paused for a moment, turning to give you a brief but meaningful "goodnight" before disappearing into the darkness.

link to the rest of my work [x]

[grungekitty-77]

Not that anybody asked, but I think it's important to understand how shame and guilt actually work before you try to use it for good.

It's a necessary emotion. There are reasons we have it. It makes everything so. much. worse. when you use it wrong.

Shame and guilt are DE-motivators. They are meant to stop behavior, not promote it. You cannot, ever, in any meaningful way, guilt someone into doing good. You can only shame them into not doing bad.

Let's say you're a parent and your kid is having issues.

Swearing in class? Shame could work. You want them to stop it. Keep it in proportion*, and it might help. *(KEEP IT IN PROPORTION!!!)

Not doing their homework? NO! STOP! NO NOT DO THAT! EVER! EVER! EVER! You want them to start to do their homework. Shaming them will have to opposite effect! You have demotivated them! They will double down on NOT doing it. Not because they are being oppositional, but because that's what shame does!

You can't guilt people into building better habits, being more successful, or getting more involved. That requires encouragement. You need to motivate for that stuff!

If you want it in a simple phrase:

You can shame someone out of being a bad person, but you can't shame them into being a good person.

[thepeacefulgarden]

[superabundantdaydreams]

Choke on Your Tongue

Perhaps if you begged those made of gold up above, they'd cast away your silver tongue. Yearning for one so fleshy and feeble as theirs, oh what more than to be vulnerable? But one who is trapped in suffocation for so long will find the prospect of breathing again to be a horrifying one. Have you forgotten how to let go of it? No. You never did learn to breathe, did you? It was not allowed. It was demanded that you not. But others stare at you in their assumption that you know how to breathe, they cannot see your silver-coated tongue, preventing the air from reaching your throat. They do not see the gasping and wheezing that causes your head and your chest to endlessly ache. But if they all believe you're breathing, they'll never teach you how. You tried so desperately, but you realized you could not learn to take in air on your own.

Who will intubate you when you cannot do it yourself? Who will inspire you when you cannot declare your suffocating?

[cindrellagrl812]

Hi sorry I can’t come out today. I’m too busy feeling guilt and shame.

[yesimchanging1997]

Like u r living and then hits the (gyuilt) and the (Shane)

[beybuniki]