#i just mentioned suicide because that's what i personally struggle with the most

[idledreams-burninghearts]

Happy disability month!

Today I learned that the average life expectancy of autistic people is 36!

Part of the reason for this is that autistic people have a much higher suicide rate than non-autistic people!

So happy disability month to all autistic people! To autistic people who are officially diagnosed and to those who are self-dx! To those that are visibly autistic and to those who are high masking! To nonverbal autistics and to those who experience selective mutism and those who are hyberverbal! To those that need to live in a care facility, to those that need to live with their parents, too those that live with their partner(s), to those that are able to live on their own.

I can keep going on. We're all different but we're still all struggling. Take care of yourself!

To those who are not autistic, support your autistic friend/family member/partner

[unfried-mouth-wheat]

fellas, we need to bring back the romanticism movement

[queertransetc]

- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

[prezaki]

One core trait of Phoenix Wright as a character that I rarely see discussed is how utterly evasive he is about his private affairs. It sticks out the most in AA4 when we see Phoenix from the outside, but "Phoenix won't tell anyone anything important unless he absolutely has to (and even then, he probably won't)" is by no means a new development for him.

From AA1 onwards, we see Phoenix dodge people's questions about his personal life time and time again. In part, this is by narrative necessity - Phoenix knows more than the player is meant to know in order to achieve the optimal tension curve. But AA takes his narrative shortcut and turns it into a real character beat.

Phoenix Wright is the most cagey fucker on the planet.

At the end of 1-1 Mia asks him how he came to befriend Larry and Phoenix dodges the question with a vague promise to tell her later - this also means that in all of his time working with Mia, he's never actually disclosed his full motivation for becoming a lawyer to her.

In 1-2, Maya asks him how he knows Edgeworth and he dodges, because of course he does. The same song and dance repeats at the end of 1-3. And despite Maya's repeated prodding by 1-4, Phoenix still has not told her a thing about his past. That's from October until December that Maya is left going ??? and her questions go nowhere.

Then, between AA1 and AA2, Edgeworth is presumed dead by suicide. Does Phoenix tell Maya about this? Absolutely not. He does not tell her in letters nor is he clear about it when they see each other again in person, months later.

What Maya gets once it's inevitable to talk is a vague 'he's gone' and no elaboration other than the request to not speak about him again.

This is Phoenix's default coping mechanism.

In AA3, there are numerous instances where he mentions forgetting Dahlia, not speaking her name again, etc. Edgeworth is 100% getting the 'person who hurt me too deeply to think about' treatment here.

But to not even tell Maya a vague overview on the matter, when Maya knew him too? Rough. And it just keeps going.

It's six months between telling Maya that Edgeworth is 'gone' in 2-2 and her finding out that 'gone' seemingly means' dead' in 2-3.

Maya complains about it, too. This isn't a matter of 'she never asked again', it's a matter of 'Phoenix is dodging all questions'. Gumshoe has to intervene in order for Maya to finally find out.

And finally in 3-5, does he tell anybody why he's going to Hazakura temple and why he seems interested in Iris? Absolutely not!

At this point we get Edgeworth openly acknowledging that Phoenix keeps his emotional cards extremely closely to the chest. When he states that he wants confirmation on whether or not he has met Iris before, this exchange happens:

Even as Edgeworth directly calls him out on being evasive and never actually speaking to people, all Phoenix can do is acknowledge that this is how he is by apologizing - but he won't change his ways.

AA4 Phoenix is really just a natural evolution of Trilogy Phoenix - Trilogy Phoenix is already evasive, already hates telling people about his struggles or accepting help... It's really no wonder that he'd isolate himself instead of reaching out once he gets disbarred.

[hatchetmanofficial]

Hi I just played this game recently but I'm curious about the lore and idk where to find it i see a lot of people mentioning boss stu (I keep reading stfu) and idk who those are do i have to read all the asked questions to get the lore going on or I can find it somewhere else? (Anyway here's a squished alan holding a red flag)

MDHM LORE (no spoilers for the actual game):

This is only going to cover the backstories/extra details and the world of MDHM but does not touch what is going to happen in the game. Some TW for the lore, will contain stuff like substance abuse, suicide, toxic relationships, gore and child abuse.

Alan is the main love interest of the game. He is an assassin who lives in the woods in the town that set in the game, far from society but occasionally visits when he has "important" stuff to do. He is the second youngest of four brothers. Claude, Jules, and James. Alan has a pretty strained relationship with them especially after their mother passed away from suicide. Alan ran away during high school and has no connections to the current culture in the modern world.

Erika is a new college friend/classmate you encounter in your English class. She is the only adopted child of two dads with whom she is currently keeping secrets to not disappoint them. She works as an employee in the local skater rink and volunteers at the rescue cat shelter. Erika is very fashion-forward and is pretty smart when it comes to problem-solving and has a hobby of solving mysteries. She has a six-legged cat named Loki and lives with her roommate Rosie.

Stu is a child friend who harbors feelings for the player. He hasn't been in contact with them since they left for college as he stayed in their old town behind. He has an older sister named Toni who also left for university, his mom, and his dad who had a pretty unhealthy and dysfunctional relationship until he moved out. Stu lives in a frat house on school grounds and is a part of a band called the Critters of Wreckage (CoW). Stu struggles with pornography addiction as well as drinking as he became very isolated after not talking with the player.

Carver is Alan's coworker. I have not revealed much about him, other than he has the most trauma, especially during childhood, out of everyone. He has an estranged past he can't quite remember after being hired as an assassin. He is missing pupils but is still able to see. He has a fascination for experimenting and dissecting his victims, even though he really isn't allowed to. I would love to point out that Carver doesn't call the player "Guinea Pig". That name is for his OWN person of interest who he has yet to find. He still calls the player "Doe-Eyes" simply because Alan calls them that. His real name is Calvin and he is 31 years old.

Stitches is another coworker of Alan and Carver. Not much is known about him. He isn't human although he appears to be. Stitches, is in fact, made up of three different body parts from three different people. His head, the torso, and his legs. Stitches was created by Boss.

Boss is, obviously, the boss of Alan. No, he doesn't have a name as he simply just goes by "Boss". He is older than the town, older than time actually. He doesn't have much of a physical form but used roadsigns as a body for him to use. He communicates through images or texts from the signs.

Buck is Alan's dad. He doesn't know that Ophelia has passed away since their separation and is still in love with her. He hasn't seen Alan either but still wants to connect with his son.

[81folklore]

this is me trying - CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x small!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

summary: after a twitter thread was made talking about the struggles you faced in a horrible way, you release a song you wrote with charles to talk about it

authors note: i am in no way saying olivia has struggled with or is dealing with anything mentioned in this story. this song means alot to me as someone who struggles with both addiction and my mental health so if im projecting..no one needs to know😁 i honestly have no clue how this is going to turn out but we will see. anything in bold italics is french

warnings: talks of addiction, depression, anxiety and suicide. alcohol addiction, drugs and self harm are all mentioned. the topics of this is me trying are mentioned, for obvious reasons but in a more personally focused way (if that makes sense). unwarrented hate (?). nothing really goes into detail but just regular warnings, please reach out to someone if you are struggling!!

authors note 2: i had to dust this one off and I HATE IT. its literally my least favorite work ive ever done so please feel free to keep scrolling😭😭 i just kept projecting by accident and it honestly kind of got out of hand. im also SO BAD with my wording so i have no clue if any of it sounds how i wanted it too!!

authors note 3: after reading it over i realised i never actually explained what i was talking about in the song thread so quickly, charles’ and yn split for a short period after yn started shutting him out, she spoke to someone (the stranger) who helped her start to extend the branches back out to charles and they got back together around 11 ish months before the song was released!! the fans never knew why they broke up, there was some speculation but most of it was dropped when they got back toegther

masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 2,457 others

good food, yummy people😋

view comments

arthur_leclerc: you mean good people yummy food right?

yourusername: suuure😁

charles_leclerc: beautiful girl

yourusername: love you!!

user7: what is charles doing in the 5th picture😭😭

yourusername: he dropped his airpod😭

user10: girl have you seen twitter…

user75: charles run as fast as you can

user2: there is no way charles knew he’d never be with someone like that💀

user10: what and he’d be with someone like you??

user6: wait what is happening in these comments what happened on twitter?

user7: someone made a thread ‘exposing’ yn but its just a bunch of bullshit that his fans are using because they dont like yn

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 3,562 other

studio time with baeee💋💋

view comments

charles_leclerc: my favorite musician💐

charles_leclerc: i love you so much

yourusername: you mean the world to me charlie

pierregasly: kika wants to know if she can come next time

yourusername: tell her to text me so we can arrange it!!

user73: oh my god new music soon

user64: does this mean charles is on her new music?!

yourusername: maybeee

user64: GIRL DONT TEASE US LIKE THIS

user99: im so sorry about whats happening on twitter you dont deserve that

user2: yes she does

arthur_leclerc: can you tell charles to stop talking about your music when im not allowed to hear it, please🙏

yourusername: sorry arthur!! wanna come for a car ride and listen to it with us??

arthur_leclerc: please please please

user82: yn and charles taking arthur on a car ride to listen to her new song, oh what if i cried😭😭

arthur_leclerc added to their story

seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 86,289 others

*text in first picture reads: 🤍🤍* *text in second picture reads: so unbelievably proud of my sister*

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 8,215 others

if you had told me a year ago that not only would i still be here but i would be releasing a song talking about the darkest times of my life with the love of my life by my side i would never have believed you.

throughout the past few months i have revisited times of my life i wish i could have left behind but ive learnt that accepting that this is a part of me now is important in my journey of moving forwards, and in moving forwards ive learnt that my struggles do not define me and i wont be embarrassed by things that have affected me

sometimes i wish i could go back and erase that part of my life, erase the way i felt, erase the way i treated the people i loved the most. but i cant, and i wont let people belittle me for that time anymore

if you have struggled in the past or are struggling today, you are not alone. its a cliche thing to say but i promise you at least one other person will be experiencing the feelings your feeling, you may not know them, you may never know them but you are not alone, you never have been and you never will be

you are not weak for struggling, you are not weak for finding ways to cope, no matter what they may be, you are not weak for shutting people out and you are not weak for reaching out for help, no matter how little you think you need it. you deserve help, no matter how small your problems may seem to you, you are worthy of being safe, you are worthy of being happy

i never thought i would release a song highlighting those times for me, but i wanted anyone whose been through these things to know that i love you and i will always love you; this is me trying out now on all platforms❤️‍🩹

view comments

arthur_leclerc: i am so so proud of you, you deserve all the happiness in the world

charles_leclerc: you mean the world to me, i am so proud of what you have achieved and i will be by your side forever and always

yourusername: charlie i hold so much love for you i feel like i may explode

user55: ive been struggling with an addiction for a while, i cannot express the way this song feels. just, thank you so much

yourusername: im right beind you darling, i believe in you❤️‍🩹

user81: i fear if i listen to this anywhere outside of the comfort of my room i will break down in tears

user93: 🩵🩵

user42: I😭JUST😭WANTED😭YOU😭TO😭KNOW😭THAT😭THIS😭IS😭ME😭TRYING😭

sebastianvettel: im so proud of you yn, come visit with charles soon sweetheart

yourusername: dropping everything and coming right now

lewishamilton: 💜💜

yourusername: hi lewis🤭🤭

user70: YN HELP😭😭 (just like me fr)

charles_leclerc and yourusername added to their stories

seen by pierregasly, sebastianvettel and 2,348,172 others

*text on first photo reads: i hold so much love for you🩷* *text on second photo reads: my bestest friend in the entire universe🩵*

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon [teaser]

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1k.

The knock on your front door was gentle; almost as though the person on the other side of it was at odds on whether they should bother you or not. You sigh, figuring it was probably Aiden coming to apologize for the confrontation he had caused with Rick and his group earlier.

You sat the book you were reading down on your coffee table, getting up from the couch as you shuffled to the door. You freeze, not even needing to open it, the glass revealing that it wasn’t Aiden, but in fact Daryl. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pound against your chest. You close your eyes, letting out a heavy exhale.

You continue towards your door, opening it. The cool, crisp night air tickled your exposed skin. “It’s late, what’re you doing here?” you question. “Came to talk.” he replies simply in his gruff voice. You pause for a moment, contemplating on whether or not you should let him in. You really weren’t in the right headspace to talk, but at the same time you didn’t want to just turn him away. “Come in.” You pull the door open wider for the brunette to step inside before shutting it close.

“So…” you cross your arms, staring up at him. “What did you come to talk about?” Daryl’s picking at his fingernails; a coping mechanism that you always remembered him doing when he struggled to find the right words. Even after all these years he still had a hard time expressing himself. “Look, m’sorry ‘bout what went down with Aiden today.”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. You knew he really didn’t mean it. Anything Daryl did he did it with pride, standing on whatever decision he made. “Aiden can be an asshole sometimes, I know. But you and your group need to understand that things like that don’t happen in Alexandria. If you guys continue to disrupt the peace I don’t know what Deanna will do.” You inform him honestly. The people in Alexandria had lived in tranquility for so long, they weren’t used to sudden anarchy. Most of them hadn’t even dealt with walkers.

Daryl nods in response, still picking at his nails. An awkward silence had fallen between you two, neither knowing what to say next. It was crazy to think there could ever come a time where you didn’t find comfort in his silence. Daryl was never the most talkative person, you knew this. But regardless, back then it didn’t bother you. You just enjoyed being around him. He was home.

Used to be at least.

It was time to face the reality that you weren’t the same girl you were before the world ended. In fact, you stopped being that girl the moment you escaped your stepmother’s tyranny. You were happy to know Daryl survived so long in this fucked up dystopia, but all his presence has done since his group got to Alexandria was bring back memories you wanted to erase, and cause a rift between you and Aiden.

“He treat you good?” Daryl finally filled the silence. You knew he was talking about Aiden. “He does.” You nod, which Daryl does too. “You love him?” The question catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to answer because the truth was, you weren’t sure if you loved Aiden. You knew you cared about him though. “Doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

“Well, it shouldn’t. My love life, and life isn’t your concern anymore.” You snap, agitatedly. “You should just go before Aiden comes by. You can let yourself out.” You walk past him, heading back to your couch, mentally cursing yourself for not pretending to be asleep instead of answering the door.

Daryl could feel the disconnection between you and him; he couldn’t understand why, but it was truly starting to frustrate him how you had been writing him off lately. Like he wasn’t an important part of your life once. “Man, what happened to you? Ever since I got here you been distant, and actin’ like you barely know me. I don’t understand why.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need to understand. We’re not having this conversation right now. Just go.” You speak sternly, pointing to the door. Daryl scoffs. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til you tell me why,” he wasn’t letting up, and you could feel your nerves taking over the more he prodded. “All these years, all that searchin’ just for you to act like it meant nothing. Hell was it for?”

“I’m not doing this.” You turn once more to walk away, but his strong grip on your wrist prevents it, and you’re spun back around to face him.

“Tell me why!”

You snatch your wrist away. “Because you’re a constant reminder, and I hate it, okay?!” You spat. “I fucking hate it! It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t mean anything. We were trauma bonded. We shared the same scars, that’s it. Once I found my courage to run, I threw away the crutches that held me back. I buried my past and everything that came with it.” Hearing your own words fly out of your mouth breaks your heart in two.

Daryl stares at you. His eyes are a bit watery, but he doesn’t shed a tear. He fights it, the way he always has. “S’all I was, huh? A crutch that held you back?” You swallow the lump at the back of your throat, not responding out of fear of breaking down. He nods his head. “I get it.” Is all he says before he’s finally about to exit your home.

The brunette only opens the door halfway before halting. “Y’know… after you left, I regretted not going with you like you wanted me to. I regretted it everyday.” He finally leaves with those being his last words, slamming the door behind him.

You flinch at the slam, eyes squeezing shut. Your bottom lip quivered and chest tightened in pain. You wanted to run after him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Tears fall now that you were left alone in your own space. Your hand flies over your mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sobs that were starting to slip through.

[ceruleanwhore]

Sariel is also a victim of the late king but no one talks about it

⚠ TW: Talking about grooming plus mentions of rape and suicide ⚠

(Also, heads up that there will be spoilers for Sariel's route in here.)

I haven't seen anyone talk about how Sariel was literally groomed by the late king yet, so I decided to just go ahead and do that. Please skip this post if this topic is something that could hurt you to read about.

First off, let's talk power imbalance. The previous king was, well, a king and, at the time he first met Sariel, Sariel was a poor 10 year old child whose sole source of income was crime. As a king, prev king was always going to have a power imbalance with just about anyone he ever met, but the power imbalance between him and Sariel is literally as skewed as it can get at the time they meet. Then, when you add in the part where one of the few and most important aspects of Sariel's backstory that we get in his route is how his dad just disappeared one day, it gets even worse and more complicated.

When the king met Sariel, the only appropriate thing he could've done would've been to find him a home and get him adopted or fostered or something, not bring him into the palace and give him a job with tons of responsibility at the ripe old age of ten. That choice was bad enough but it's worse because the job in question was to take care of this man's children and also do a shitload of emotional labor for him. The way the king used child!Sariel like a therapist and shared all his mental, emotional, and relationship issues with this child is a textbook example of grooming. Not to mention that this guy also gave Sariel whole identity so, for the rest of his life, Sariel's abuser is entwined with most aspects of his life, including something as simple as his name.

Somehow, this horrible situation got even worse because prev king attempted suicide and Sariel was the one who found him when he did that. I understand very well that suicide is not a choice and I would never blame someone for attempting suicide or dying that way, but when the person in question has already groomed the fuck out of the person who ends up finding them after their suicide attempt, that makes things quite complicated. Because of how the king had already groomed Sariel and, more specifically, dumped his mental and emotional problems on him, I think it's inevitable that Sariel would've felt responsible for that suicide attempt. After however long of being that sole confidant to the king, I can't imagine he wouldn't feel personally responsible for the king's mental and emotional struggles, up to and including suicide.

Another factor here that further complicates things is the complicated (read: shitty) nature of the king and his actions. We all know by now that two of the eight princes were conceived by rape, and Sariel knows that too but, in spite of that, we regularly get to see him defend this horrible king, insisting that he was complicated and that he never would've hurt anyone if it weren't for the one singular loss he suffered in his life. What this means is that we, the audience, have full knowledge of how horrible the previous king was and that he was a literal rapist and, therefore, it's in character for him to also be a groomer, but Sariel is in the thick of it and can't fully perceive or understand what happened to him. Instead, he continues to view the king as his "special friend" who was widely misunderstood and whom only Sariel was able to fully understand, so he continues to defend his abuser.

The other thing is what we see in Sariel's full ending bonus story about the journal that the king gave him on Bloodstained Rose Day. We know from the rest of his route and two endings that, as a child, he somehow ended up on the run/living a vagrant lifestyle with his father until that father disappeared one day but, otherwise, he has no clue who he is, where he comes from, or what the tattoo on his hand even was. This undoubtedly was a source of significant trauma and turmoil for him so, by having a lot of that information and being able to give it to him, the king had yet even more fucking power over Sariel. The worst part is that, when he gives Sariel the diary, the king even outright admits that he had this all along and chose to withhold it from Sariel to deliberately keep him from leaving the palace. He literally tells us directly that he's been abusing his power over this literal fucking child since he was ten fucking years old.

I know Ikemen never intended for us to see prev king's character this way and, like how we were supposed to look at Licht and Nokto's mother being an abusive cunt and instead somehow see a situation where there was no clear bad guy, Sariel is meant to tell us how to feel about the king. However, I think they accidentally set up a very clear case of grooming instead and it's all there in the text. I'm sure it won't happen, but I fucking wish that Sariel's sequel would include him realizing all of this, working through the trauma, and finally denouncing the late king, at least in private. I'd also love to see the sequel take Sariel and Emma to Obsidian and for them to get more info about his identity and family from Gilbert, since the kingdom he comes from was taken over by Obsidian.

[babygirl-riley]

I was thinking of this, if you'd be willing to write it, something based on "Redeemer" by Palaye Royale where simon's s/o is depressed and suicidal... it's ok if you don't want to thanks anyway luv ya<3

Every Step

Reader is struggling with their mental illness

A/N: This is a HUGE trigger warning, if you cannot read any sort of suicide please do not read. It gets dark in this one. And Anon! This really broke me, this song really just wow! Beautiful and damn sad. Good one 🖤

“Will you please pick up the phone?And I'm waiting for you to come home. And I'm screaming all on my own”

Warnings: suicide attempt, thoughts of suicide, depression, anxiety, mentions of anxiety attack, mental breakdowns, angst, soft!simon, husband!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You sat curled in the corner of your bedroom. Everything seemed to fall apart in the last 5 months. You had a job you loved just to be let go due to company being bought, your rent was becoming overdue for a month, job hunting going South, your family starting to become more distant after the death of your mother, and Simon and you have been at each others throats.

You have tried to just smile and move on, that life will eventually piece itself back together. Mask your true self-feelings. Even when Simon had been around it was ‘fake it to you make it.’ Little to your knowledge that he noticed, mind you, it wasn’t always your fault when starting fights. However, it was most. He would ask what was the matter and you would blow up.

You never mean to, never wanted to, that’s just how it goes when you get into these ruts. Just not too long ago you and Simon fought, it wasn’t pretty both things from each other were said that shouldn’t have been. Not meant. It got to the point where

Simon left the house, didn’t say a word and left.

You threw things, punched things, broke things. Now you are here, curled up with bloody knuckles and a stained red teared face. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there. Everything ran through your mind of what was going on. What has been happening. Your mind trailing to dark places. It started to panic you slowly, things you have never thought of before.

You thought about ways to make yourself not here anymore. Ways to make the pain go away. You thought how everyone around you would be better off than to handle a bitchy person. Simon would. Your parents would. You friends would. No one truly thought of you as important or loved. You were only loved because it was an inconvenience to them.

You looked at your bathroom and thought about all the pills that were stacked inside the cabinet. Sleep then not wake up. That would be the best way. No pain. You got up to walk to the bathroom, mind racing on how rude and feeling like you have been fake. You shut and locked the door, grabbing each bottle and opening them.

You heard a soft knock on the door then the handle moving. “Love, let me in,” Simon started to put things together, he didn’t hear the water but he did hear pills. Panic rushed through his veins. “Open this door now.” He was stern yet soft at the same time. That’s when he heard the soft crying.

Simon backed up to kick the door. One. Twice. And it slammed open, he scanned the room as you were in the corner in the bathtub. He looked at the pill bottles and froze. Empty. He stormed towards you with panic on his face. “How many!”

You cried even harder. You shook your head, as he grabbed your cheeks gently yet firm. “Y/N how fucking many!”

You looked at him your tears spilling harder. “None! I threw them down the drain!” Simon stood up quickly to look in the sink, the cover go on the drain open.

You sobbed harder as Simon inhaled deeply. He walked to you and gently picked you up. You leaned more into his chest and sobbed harder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You kept repeating.

Simon hushed you softly as he placed you on the bed with him following. Laying your head on his lap while he used his fingers to comb through your hair. You just sobbed and sobbed, it felt like hours until you were able to stop. It was silent. Dead silent.

Simon inhaled deeply. “What made you want to take ‘em?”

You sniffled a bit. “I don’t know.”

Simon’s heart hurt before remembering all the phone calls. All the ones he missed just to think it could have been your last. He knew that you were going through something, he tried to be there but you seem to push it off or push him away. “I don’t think anyone would miss me,” His mind lost track of his thoughts when you mumbled those words. “I have been so angry, so upset, and so not happy. I just thought that you and everyone else would be better off without me.” Your voice choked at the end as you sobbed again.

Simon felt his chest tighten, looking at his band on his ring finger. For better and for worse right? He couldn’t fathom the world without the woman he married. Has the last couple of months been hard? Yeah but both of you said in your vows, you would always be with each other. “Baby, I couldn’t live without you. It would-it would kill me.” Simon said softly feeling his throat closing. Softly gliding his finger over your stained cheek. “I’m sorry you felt like you weren’t loved or shown differently.”

You sighed as you started to calm down. “It’s not your fault.”

Simon slowly shifted you to look up from him from his lap. You could tell the worry and hurt in his eyes. The emotion that you caused, he frowned like he read your mind. “I think we should call your therapist.” Simon suggested softly rubbing your arm with one of hands.

You rolled your eyes sitting up, your back towards him. “I don’t need to see her. I can…”

“Baby you attempted...” He said his voice breaking a bit before sighing, he saw your shoulders tense then soften. He gently rubbed your shoulder. “Please.”

You nodded slowly as he heard sniffling. He stepped up and walked over to you kneeling in front of you. Simon’s expression softened even more as he watched you cry again. He rubbed his thumbs against your knees. You sighed and wiped your eyes. “I will call her tomorrow. Can you be next to me while I do so?”

Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ll even dial her up.” You half smiled and nodded placing a hand on his. “Let’s get food?”

You nodded and looked out in the hallway. “Can we eat in here and watch tv?”

Simon stood up and kissed your forehead closing his eyes. “Of ‘ourse.” He stood back having his hand on your cheek before grabbing out his phone. He glanced over at the door and the scene that was once live. His heart tightened. Simon will fight whatever demons you have, he won’t lose you. In sickness and health. He will be there every step of the way.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi there, ive come from your post about ADHD and emotional disregulation, firstly thank you so much for putting it into words, its such a complicated part of how i deal with emotions and i havent ever been able to articulate how to why.

Secondly, in that post you mentioned how you've used stress as a motivator and how eventually your stress regualtion broke, i was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about that? (If not, its not a problem)

I feel like the same thing has happened to me but until i read your post i had no idea that something had... snapped? I suppose? I struggle with motivation all the time and in the past id have a week or a few days left and id be able to suddently push myself very hard to complete whatever it is before the deadline, just barely making it in most cases. However now it seems that i can't find that motivation anymore, deadlines come and pass and i can't being myself to work on anything, and i just end up spiralling into shame and guilt. That motivation was the only thing that I was able to rely on sometimes for things like uni, and i conviced myself that it was just me growing lazy or trying to get out of responsibility as to why the "last minute panic-mode" doesnt work anymore.

Again, if you don't wanna tackle this can of worms or if it's something youd rather not post online i totally get it, its no biggie! thanks so much for making the original post as well, it means a lot

Hello friend, thanks for the message. I'm sorry you're also dealing with this.

The good news here is that I've already talked about this using the rubber band analogy my therapist gave me. (Stress is like a Rubber Band)

If you don't have the mental bandwidth to read all of it now, the tl;dr is "stress is like a rubber band; it can stretch to hold numerous things in place when you need to, but if you do it too often or keep adding more and more strain under the band, the elastic eventually becomes brittle and snaps, taking your mental and sometimes physical health with it too."

I've been in intensive therapy for this for roughly three years now, and trying to piece my brain back together after my last bout of stress-induced productivity gave me a total mental breakdown.

It's... odd not being able to use stress and having to actively avoid it to avoid a relapse. But it is doable. Medication would help, but alas, I've got weird health issues and am unmedicated at the minute.

(And just in case that sparks anyone to go, "Oh, you do all this unmedicated! Wow, that's so inspiring!" as sometimes parents do to me on here as they then tell me they don't want to medicate their kids, I've unfortunately also written a post about what that kind of success looks like from an unmedicated perspective and the kind of suicidal ideation I deal with on the regular because I cannot take meds. It is not pleasant reading, but it is necessary for some folks, specifically anti-med, "if you just tried harder" people.)

A book you may find helpful is Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It was very validating for me to read about other people going through the same things, and made me feel less of a "this is a personal failing on my part" and more of a "Oh okay yeah, no stress literally breaks people."

It helped soothe some of my own internalized "I just need to try harder" and helped cement me on the path I was already going down with my ADHD therapist toward changing how I view myself and how I manage my ADHD.

I hope that helps! If you've got more specific questions or I didn't touch on something in my old post, I can try to answer them :)

[pedrointofolklore]

This is me trying

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel hated you. he hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. he hated how much he worried about you. click here for part two.

warnings: detailed depictions of depression, heavily implied suicidal ideation, slight violence, angst with a sprinkle of fluff, no explicit smut but it does get very suggestive (minors do not interact), minor character death, enemies to lovers, poor communication, misunderstandings, these fools don’t know how to act, joel is an asshole but then he’s sweet, brief mention of drug use, lots of swearing, age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, boston era/ellie era.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hey y’all. i just wanted to thank everyone who supported my last story rosebud (here’s a link if you want to read it). this story is a lot different and a lot sadder. i got the title from my favourite pop girlie taylor alison swift.

Joel hated you. It had to be his worst kept secret.

You hadn’t done anything to him. You used to think about it constantly, desperate to know what his reason was for despising you like he did, but you eventually accepted that he didn’t need a reason. He just didn’t like you. 

Joel wasn’t particularly likeable himself. He was rude and intimidating and one of the most morally bankrupt people you’d ever met, but you didn’t hate him the way he hated you. You were Tess’s lackey—Joel tolerated you, and you supposed he wasn’t obligated to do any more than that. Although, he didn’t do it very well.

You’d existed in each other’s orbit in the QZ for a while, and finally met one night in the boarded-up old mall when you’d gotten to a stash of painkillers just before them. Joel wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot you between the eyes if Tess hadn’t been there.

Tess saw something in you—not a friend, not a life worth sparing by virtue of humanity; a business investment.

And it was a smart investment. You were young, agile and clever, incredible at slipping by unnoticed and gathering information. You knew all the best routes, the best times to take them, and you could swindle anyone out of their rations just by batting your eyelashes. You were willing to take the lead, to be the first one in and out to make sure the coast was clear.

It wasn’t the threat of death or the promise of mercy that made you join them—it was the sense of purpose it gave you.

Joel was adamantly against it. Things worked fine the way they did them, and he saw no reason to add another person into it.

“Don’t need to fix something that ain’t broken,” was how he’d put it.

You didn’t dispute that. Joel and Tess had survived for years, and they were clearly more than capable of getting the job done, but what you lacked in experience, you made up for in stealth and speed—something their aging knees struggled with.

Tess convinced Joel, which you soon found out she was very good at. You also found out that his compliance didn’t mean hiding his resentment.

He thought you were a careless, impulsive loose cannon, and he’d told you so after a particularly dicey deal with a particularly dicey FEDRA agent.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.” He followed you into your apartment uninvited. Tess made him walk you home, and you were sure he only did it because he wanted to berate you.

“Why do you care?” you asked, tossing your keys onto the counter. They slid off and hit the floor.

“You’re with us,” Joel replied. “You'll get us killed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes—you knew that infuriated him. “Am I on crack or have you not doubled your profits since I showed up?”

“I think you’re dangerous,” Joel said, ignoring you. “Always sneakin’ around, goin’ places you shouldn’t, playin’ mind games with FEDRA. Your luck’s gonna run out sooner or later, and I just hope I’m not around when it does.”

Your face burned with red-hot anger as you tried to fight the stinging in your eyes and the blurring of your vision, but you were too far gone. The tears fell, and they were ceaseless. You felt pathetic, but you knew this would happen. You didn’t often cry from sadness or pain, but anger always managed to bring it out in you.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?” you hissed. “You’re saying you don’t sneak around? You’ve never scammed anyone? You’re a smuggler, Joel! Be fucking real with me.”

“It’s different,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“Why, because you’re older? Because you have more experience?”

“‘Cause I don’t think I’m fuckin’ special.”

If his words were the dagger, the pure contempt in his tone was what plunged it into your stomach, twisted it, and left a gaping hole for all of your despair to come pouring out of, leaving behind a puddle of melancholia for him to gaze at in all its miserable glory.

It was the only time you might have hated Joel as much as he hated you. Working with him and Tess wasn’t perfect, but it was all you had, and now he’d managed to make it all meaningless. Your help wasn’t helping.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat.

You should have quit then, and you thought about it. After pounding your fists into Joel’s chest and screaming at him to get the fuck out of your apartment, you sunk down onto the floor and cried. You cried until you ran out of tears and were left with a nothing but a throbbing headache. You took a pill, passed out, and woke up to you discover that you’d lost the energy to really care about any of it.

You didn’t quit. If anything, you became even more audacious, but you never confused it with courage or bravery. Bravery was perseverance in the face of terror. Joel and Tess were brave. You weren’t like them.

Joel laid off after that. He wasn’t anything close to nice, but whatever animosity he held towards you was only ever expressed as quiet seething, and you could live with that.

Any fulfilment you got out of working with Joel and Tess dissolved, but for what it was, it still worked.

Until it didn’t.

Tess was dead. The buffer between you and Joel was gone, and you had no choice but to work together and get the immune girl to Wyoming.

You wondered if there was a silver-lining in this wreckage. You thought that circumstance might force Joel to finally get along with you, and so you did the one thing you never did—you tried. You tried to help him, tried to speak to him like he was someone you actually wanted to speak to, tried to rein in some of your more annoying traits so you wouldn’t get on his nerves.

None of it worked. All you could get out of Joel seemed to be irritated mumbles and blank stares, and you couldn’t even blame him after what happened to Tess.

You never really knew if Tess actually gave a shit about you, or if she only ever cared about having an extra pair of hands around. Either way, you cared about her.

So, once again, you tried. When Joel and Ellie were sleeping—or at least pretending to—you walked down to the stream and tried to cry for her, but you couldn’t muster the tears. You even tried to get angry, mentally cuss her out for leaving you behind, but your eyes were dry.

You stared into the water, gazing at the way it sparkled in the starlight, and thought that the world didn’t deserve such a pretty sight. You couldn’t cry, but a deep sadness overtook you, weighing you down like lead.

Joel didn’t hate you.

He just hated how impulsive and reckless you were. He hated that you were smart, intuitive, and so maddeningly beautiful. He hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. He hated how much he worried about you.

There was a time he had disliked you. He used to think it was arrogance—that you truly believed you were so special that you could get away with anything. It was when he called you out on it that he realised how wrong he was.

Your reaction was frightening. You cried and screamed at him, pushed him out of your space. He didn’t know you were capable of such a strong display of emotion, but he’d struck a nerve, and those were the repercussions.

He recalled how the blows to his chest didn’t hurt, like there was no force behind them. You weren’t weak at all, you just couldn’t find the willpower to really hurt him. He wished you had hurt him. Maybe getting it out of your system would have helped. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to feel so guilty.

It became so obvious to him what was happening, and he felt like an idiot for not understanding it sooner. It wasn’t that you thought you were special, or immune to the consequences—you just didn’t care what happened to you.

Now Tess was gone, and he had this horrible feeling that he was going to lose you too.

His way of dealing with it was to push you away even more. He told himself it would make things easier when you inevitably left him.

Things came to a head one night after the three of you left Lincoln. Joel had been driving all day, and he would be doing it again the next day. He was in desperate need of sleep, but as he stared out into the eerie darkness of the woods, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen if he didn’t stay awake.

He heard the rustling of a sleeping bag sometime after midnight. He thought it was you just rolling over in your sleep—something you often did—but then he heard the faint sound of dead leaves crunching under feet, and you were by his side a moment later.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you asked in a soft, sleepy voice that made his chest ache.

“Keepin’ watch,” he replied bluntly.

“But you’re driving tomorrow,” you said. “You need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve slept, so I can take over,” you offered.

“I just told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You backed off, hanging your head in shame, and he instantly felt horrible—you were being nice to him and he was still being a complete asshole.

Joel tried to tear his gaze away from you. He wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, that he hadn’t just done that, but his eyes stayed on you. He watched the shame dissolve and replace itself with indignation. You pulled your head up and glared at him with a fire in your eyes that threatened to burn right through him.

“I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I never meant for you to get stuck with me. I know it’s your worst fucking nightmare. If I could switch places with Tess—“

“Stop.” He wouldn’t hear that. He couldn’t. It would kill him. “That’s not—I’m not thinkin’ that. I’m glad you’re here, understand? I need you with me.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound hit his ears like a gunshot. “You just told me you didn’t. All you’ve done—all you’ve ever done—is act like I’m a fucking waste of space.”

Joel’s mouth when dry, his heart dropped to his stomach, and he thought he might vomit. It shouldn’t have shocked him like it did, but hearing you say it made him sick. He put the gun he’d been clutching down on the ground, disarming himself in more ways than one. “I don’t think that…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just—fuck—I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Are you gonna leave?”

“Leave this mission or this mortal coil?"

“Either, I guess.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Your voice was just a whisper, and it felt like you were ripping Joel’s heart out and crushing it in your hands.

Fuck no, he didn’t want you to leave, and that was what scared him the most; feeling attached to someone so detached (and yes, he was a hypocrite). He wouldn’t be able to take it if he woke up one day and you were gone.

But he couldn’t keep doing this to you. It was selfish and cowardly and it just made everything worse. He made everything worse.

“I can’t do this without you,” he told you. He hadn’t known how true it was until he said it.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.” He felt suddenly impassioned. “You can’t…if you…just don’t. Promise me you won’t.” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t let the words out of his mouth and into the universe. You both knew what he meant.

“I promise,” you said. You sounded oddly tranquil, but Joel was destroyed, even though he knew he didn’t have the right to be—this was entirely his fault.

“Can you let me keep watch so you can get some sleep?” you asked again.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Just need to know where you are.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and glossy, and for a second he thought you might start crying. Before he could think of something to do or say, your hands were on either side of his face, pulling him down into an urgent kiss.

He didn’t know what was happening, what you were thinking, or what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter, he just knew he needed to kiss you back. One of his hands found your waist while the other splayed out across your back, pulling you flush against him.

It was nowhere near sweet. It was intense and unyielding—a frantic clashing of teeth and bruising of lips. It was intoxicating, earth-shattering, but felt so right, like it was always meant to happen—or needed to happen.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, somehow bringing him impossibly closer to you. You hiked a leg up around his hip and tugged his pelvis forward. He ran a hand down from your waist, brushing it over your ass and gripping your thigh.

You rolled your hips into his, eliciting a deep, involuntary groan from him. He was painfully hard. He knew he would regret this, but he set your leg down and managed to tear his mouth away from yours. 

He missed the feeling immediately, and he didn’t have the self-control to pull away completely. His hands were still on you, pressing you against him. You looked so pretty and ruined gazing back at him; breathless and flustered with pink, swollen lips.

Fuck.

You had just kissed Joel Miller, the man you hated. 

You didn’t hate him.

You kissed the man who hated you.

He didn’t hate you.

You kissed the only person you had left. You kissed him even though it made no sense. You kissed him because you wanted to.

You started it, but then he stopped it. His eyes were dark, his face was flushed, and the bulge in his jeans was not going away. He looked like he was in pain, struggling with his own conscience.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He grinned softly and reached a hand up to tangle in your hair. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture. “I liked it.”

Your heart melted. He was so lovely, so dear. You never imagined in your wildest dreams that Joel Miller could be like this.

“Just don’t wanna take advantage,” he said.

“You’re not. I kissed you,” you reminded him.

“I know, but you're upset, and you don’t like me much, and you’re tired. Don’t want you doing anything you don’t actually wanna do.”

You did want it, but you were also overwhelmed and exhausted, and more importantly, it would have been a majorly fucked up thing to do with a 14 year old sleeping 20 feet away.

“But if you still want it later”—he gave you another chaste kiss—“you can have it.”

You giggled, kissing him one more time. You didn’t know when you'd be able to again.

His gentle smile faded, and he looked into your eyes with devastating sincerity. “I got you now, okay?”

“I know, Joel.”

“Do you have me?” he asked.

“I’m trying.” You hoped that would be enough, because it was all you had.

“That’s all I need, sweetheart.”

a/n: so i wrote most of this when i was sick with the flu and i fully intended for it to be a one-shot, but i love this dynamic and i’m thinking of exploring it further. let me know if y’all would be interested in seeing more of these two. (edit: this a/n is now redundant bc i did in fact write the sequel).

[norrizzandpia]

Call Your Mom (LN4)

Summary: Y/n’s struggle with mental health and the journey, accompanied by Lando and her best friends, she goes through in order to get better.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, mentions/inferences/an attempt of suicide, mentions of alcohol, attempted overdose (lmk if I missed any <3)

Word Count: 4,090

Note: In this song, the artist says he’ll call the person he’s talking to’s mom, but in the imagine, I changed it to Lando calling the reader’s best friends. Also, at the end of the song, the artist talks about religion (specifically religions that believe in Jesus) so, as to not assume anyone’s religion, I just didn’t address that part of the lyric in the song. Happy reading 🧡

Oh, you're spiraling again. The moment right before it ends, you're most afraid of but, don't you cancel any plans. 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them

Opening the door, Lando clocked the quietness of his apartment, something he wasn't accustomed to ever since his girlfriend moved in with him. Slipping off his shoes and letting his duffel bag fall to the floor, he called out for her multiple times, but he was continually met with a loud silence.

"Y/n?" He said once more as he rounded the corner of the kitchen and made his way toward their bedroom.

If it hadn't been for the quiet, he wouldn't have heard her soft murmur, "In here."

'In here' sounded like the bedroom and his suspicions were proven true when he walked through the threshold to be met with her curled up in the duvet. Her face was towards him and, in a millisecond, he could tell she was struggling again.

Softly, he padded over to her before sitting down beside her and letting his hand come to stroke her cheek, "How was hanging out with Lily and Paige today?"

Shaking her head and turning over, Y/n told Lando she had canceled the plans and decided not to go. His disappointment was internal, something he wouldn't clue her in on because it would destroy her to know he was disappointed in her for something she can't control. Her depressive episodes were less frequent now, but they still came around every so often, and when they did, they were suffocating. After years, he had shown up enough to make her feel like he was her safe place, so when she slipped into the darkness of her mind, she didn't shut him out.

Taking off his shirt and pants, so he was only left in his boxers, he slipped under the covers and turned her around so she was facing him once again. Holding her head in his hands, he was quick to wipe away the tears under her eyes and splayed over her cheeks before kissing her nose, "I know it's hard right now, but this will pass. You will get through this one like you do the other ones. But, I'm right here with you if you ever feel like you need a hand to hold."

He seemed to get through to her as she smiled softly at him and stuffed her face into his neck. His hands circled around her as he felt her breathe in his cologne.

Tomorrow, he would call Paige and Lily, and tell them what was going on. If there were other people on the planet that could help Y/n out of the deep depths of her mind, it was her best friends.

The two girls who had been there long before he had.

—

Stayed on the line with you the entire night till you let it out and let it in. Don't let this darkness fool you. All lights turned off can be turned on. I'll drive, I'll drive all night. I'll call your mom.

These were the worst ones. The ones where he couldn't be there because he was in another country. These were the ones he feared the most.

Her sobbing on the other side of the phone broke his heart further as he contemplated packing up all his stuff and pulling out of the race that was just two days away. His team would be furious with him, but, at this point, he couldn't care. All he cared about was getting to her and calming the ever-flowing, horrible thoughts.

"I know you always say I get through these and I come out on the other side, but I just can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore." She cried again. Her words terrified Lando like he could never explain. If she was insinuating what he thought, then pulling out of the race wouldn't be so bad. However, he didn't want to ask her because the idea of putting that in her head and having her dwell on that course of action without him was haunting.

"Remember what we always say? All lights turned off can be turned on? Y/n, that's what you are. You're a light to everyone around you. To me, to Paige and Lily, to your family, to anyone who has the privilege of meeting you, you're a bright, bright light. Just hang on for me, darling. Please. If you can't do it for yourself, do it for me." He pleaded with her as he texted quickly with Paige and Lily. The two friends were the only ones in close vicinity with Y/n and the minute he had texted them, letting each of them know she needed help, they were texting him not even a second later that they were on their way.

"Okay." It was faint, but it was there. On the other end of the line, he heard doors opening and closing along with the soft chatter of two voices he recognized immediately.

"Did you call Paige and Lily?" His girlfriend asked as the voices grew louder.

"Of course." He responded quickly.

Y/n was silent for a moment before she took in a breath, "Thank you."

Even with her muffled tone, he could hear the small smile, "Anytime, angel. I'm always here to help you."

Y/n must've forgotten to hang up the phone because he was able to hear their bedroom door open and close along with Paige's booming voice, "Hey, babe. We brought wine and romance novels. Ready to find the craziest smut and laugh at it?"

Lando smiled to himself. The three girls had been a tight-knit group since high school and had been obsessed with getting together to find into each other's delusions. He was convinced that he never laughed harder when he was included in their girl talks because they would say and do the most outrageous things. He had never met three people who would genuinely do anything for each other, whether that was murder or ordering food because the other two were too nervous to do it themselves.

The conversation continued as he heard Paige and Lily plop down onto the bed, "Was that Lando?" Lily asked.

He could see Y/n's nod in his head, "Yeah, he was just talking with me. You know, being the disgustingly perfect human being he is."

Paige groaned, "Ugh, he really is disgusting. He's like those book boyfriends we used to obsess over when we were in high school. I mean, seriously Y/n, he's perfect. I was genuinely worried when you said you were dating an F1 driver because most of those guys are just players, but I think he's the one for you."

Lando's smile intensified as he heard Paige's truthful opinion of him. When they first got together, he knew impressing her best friends was of utmost importance. If he didn't get their stamp of approval, he was done for. So he had gotten flowers for each of them and had paid for the entire lunch they had. Lily was easy to win over with that lunch, but Paige had twisted his gestures in a way that made him seem shallow. His flowers were over-the-top and obvious, and paying for lunch was flaunting his money. It had taken a few months to get through to the girl, but after a lengthy conversation where it became apparent to him how protective she was over Y/n, Lando assured her he would protect her just the same.

Y/n's laughing brought Lando back to the conversation he was eavesdropping on, "How does that position even work?"

Clearly he had zoned out long enough to not notice the transition from the topic of him to dirty romance novels, but he didn't really care because Y/n was laughing and that was good.

That was really, really good.

—

Waiting room, no place to stand. Just greatest fears, and wringing hands and the loudest silence.

He didn't know how it got to that point, to be completely honest. One moment, he had gotten off the phone with her and the next he was getting a call from Paige, who was in a clear fit of distress as she spit out she had gotten an alarming text from Y/n that sounded too much like a goodbye. In fear, Lando stood up abruptly in his meeting and ran out, telling everyone he had a family emergency. He had probably broken multiple laws as he sped through intersections and school zones to get to her. His car hadn't even fully stopped before he was flying out of it and shoving open the door to their apartment. He didn't clock the silence this time because all he could hear was the shower and the steady stream of water.

The door was locked as he tried to get in and he began banging on the door, yelling for Y/n to come out. Tears flooded his vision as he pleaded with her to open the door or at least give him some confirmation she was okay, but nothing came. All he could hear was the sick and twisted sound of water hitting tile flooring. It didn't take his mind more than two seconds to come to the conclusion he would have to break the door down and when he did, he was met with Y/n and a bottle of pills in her hand.

She seemed coherent which was a good sign, but Lando saw the tears flying down her face as she stared at the bottle. He was quick to kneel down before her and gently take the bottle of her hands, "Did you take them?" He asked assertively.

When she didn't answer, he asked more forcefully, "Y/n, did you take them?"

She shook her head 'no' and Lando let out a strangled sob.

"Y/n, baby, you need help. You need to get on medication and see a therapist. It will help you, I promise. Please, just-" He took a breath to try and calm down, "Just let me get you the help you need."

So, that's how he found himself in the dim waiting room of the hospital with clammy palms and a loud mind.

"Lando." Paige's voice appeared from behind him and as he turned around, he saw her tear-stained cheeks.

"She was about to do it when I got there. If I hadn't gotten there when I did, she-" Lando's tears cut him off as his head fell into his hands and he broke down once more. He didn't know what he would've done if he hadn't gotten there as soon as he did.

Paige's hand on his back reminded him that she was Y/n's best friend and was probably going through the same emotions. Letting his head turn so he could meet her gaze, he asked, "How are you? Is Lily coming?"

Paige sighed, "I'm as good as I can be in this kind of situation and Lily's on her way, but she won't be here for a few hours. She was on a business trip when it happened."

He nodded as he sat back, shrugging off Paige's hand that he wished was Y/n's. The two sat next to each other as they stared off into the distance, leaving words unsaid as they waited to hear what was going on with Y/n's psych evaluation.

If you could see yourself like this, if you could see yourself like this, you'd have never tried it.

As he stared down at his lock screen, he reminisced on an easier time. The picture was of the two at his parent's house when he got the call that he would be in F1. They were sitting next to each other at the dining room table, their faces lit up with smiles as they looked at each other. Y/n's hands were up in the air, seconds from wrapping him in a hug, and his were already on her, two arms around her waist. It was a split-second moment only picked up on by the video his mom had been taking at the time, but he liked this photo more than the one of the them actually hugging because it seemed more genuine. A quick moment that was just them and her happiness for him.

She had seen the photo multiple times, but Lando didn't think she had really seen it. He didn't think she had actually took note of how beautiful her smile looked or how pretty her eyes sparkled or the way he looked at her or how, in that moment, he wasn't looking at his phone which had just told him his lifelong dream was coming true, but at the girl who had been his true dream all along. He wondered if he had shown her all these small things maybe she wouldn't have gotten to this point, to the point where she wanted to end it all. His mind wandered to places where this was his fault, where he should have tried harder to show her how loved she was.

However, before he could spiral deeper, the sight of her doctor approaching them made him stand up and forget about everything else, but her.

"How is she?" He immediately asked as Paige and Lily stood up beside him. Lily had gotten there about an hour before, rambling on about how sorry she was that she couldn't be there sooner.

"She's doing better, however, it is my professional opinion that she stays here for a few more days before she goes home. I would like to put her on antidepressants and give her the information for a therapist I think could really help her. Are you her husband?" The doctor spoke.

Lando shook his head, "No, just her boyfriend."

The doctor nodded, "Okay, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions about how long this has been going on and such." His gaze shifted to the two girls standing beside Lando, "Are you her friends?"

The two nodded, "Okay, she's been asking for you. Paige and Lily, is it? You can visit her if you'd like."

Before he knew it, Paige and Lily were leaving his side to go tend to the girl that was more their sister than their friend.

Leaving just him and the doctor, the questions began, "How long has she been struggling this way?"

"Well, she's always struggled with depression, but it's gotten worse over the past year. Her episodes haven't been as often, but they're worse when they come now." Lando answered just as the doctor began nodding.

Down the hall, Paige and Lily were lying on each side of Y/n's hospital bed.

"Why, Y/n?" Paige asked from her squished position.

Y/n shook her head, "I don't know. I just- I got off the phone with Lando and something just snapped in me. I've burdened all of you with my problems for so long, I couldn't do it anymore. I can't imagine how sick Lando must be of having to be at my beck and call every two seconds. I'm just done forcing you guys to be there for me."

Paige and Lily eyed each other from over their friend's head, "Y/n," Lily began, "you are not burdening anyone with your problems. You've never ever been doing that. We show up for you because we want to, not because we have to. You've been Paige and I's family for so long, of course we're going to want to be there for you when you're struggling. And Lando? Lando was out there crying into his hands because he thinks this is his fault, that he didn't try as hard as he could. None of us feel forced by you to be there for you. That's never been the case. We love you, so we're going to show up no matter what."

By the end of it, all three girls were crying and Paige decided this would be a good time to hug each of them. Extending her arms out so they could reach over to Lily and squish Y/n in the middle, she squeezed both of them. With soft giggling and small smiles, Lily and Y/n both wrapped their arms around the other two. It was a quiet moment as they hugged, letting the gesture speak for itself, before the door to the room was opening and Lando was coming in.

Lily and Paige took that as their cue to go get some snacks from the cafeteria as Lando sat in the chair beside the bed, taking her hand in his.

Small tears began to flow down his face at her breathing form, "I'm so glad you're okay."

Y/n wiped his tears away with the hand that wasn't caged by him and whispered, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Lando's glossy eyes looked up at her, "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I love you and anything you go through is something I want to help you through. At the end of the day, I'm just glad I get to tell you 'I love you' again."

Her own tears began to flow at his sweet words and as he squeezed her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles, she realized her light might just be turning on again.

—

Medicate, meditate, save yourself for Jesus, throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason.

With the medication and therapy sessions, Y/n was finally finding her way back to herself. She was beginning to find recovery fun as her, Paige, Lily, and Lando all had Saturdays where they would go out and do yoga and meditate together. At first, when all three of them presented the idea to her, she thought it was incredibly ridiculous, but after the first session, she fell in love with it. Whether it was the laughs they shared as Lando made weird noises during the quietness of their meditation or the realization that she could get lost in her mind without falling into a deep, dark void, she fell in love with those Saturdays.

Sure, recovery was also hard, but she was learning to fight and throw punches at the dark memories and thoughts that would pass her brain.

It was nice to see Lando realizing he was getting her back too. She could see it in the way his eyes shimmered when she would crack a joke or finally fulfill plans without canceling them. She didn't realize it when she was going through it, but, in the midst of her depression, Lando had been watching his favorite person get lost in themselves and he couldn't do anything. She couldn't imagine the sort of pain he must've had to push aside, so he could help her, and after multiple tearful conversations about it, Lando had hugged Y/n and told her he would never be mad at her for struggling and needing help.

It was like her whole world had been in black and white, and now, it was full of color. She could genuinely smile at the crazy paragraphs they would find in romance novels on their wine-filled nights, and laugh at the two girls planning her imaginary wedding to her boyfriend.

After it all, Paige had had a conversation with Lando that Y/n wasn't aware of, well, not yet that is. She had asked Lando if he saw Y/n in his future and when he had dug into his pocket to pull out a box that held a large, shimmery ring, she smiled giddily. They both knew a proposal was something that would have to happen a little later because Y/n needed time to fully get back to herself before her life was changing again, but they knew it was inevitable.

Lando would be asking Y/n to marry him, one way or another.

—

I'll drive, I'll drive all night. I'll call your mom. I'll call your mom.

As he was driving, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. After a year or two of recovering, Y/n was finally herself again and when Paige had texted Lando, telling him Y/n had just admitted she would say yes to Lando if he asked her to marry him over wine, he stopped what he was doing in his meeting and said he had to go. He couldn't wait any longer.

He needed to ask her to marry him.

The drive was way too long for his liking and as he flew out of his car before it even stopped, he got deja vu. The last time he was pulling up to their house this way, it had been for an entirely different, horrific reason. But, now, the only reason why he would stay up on the phone with her was because he never wanted to stop talking, because they could finally put aside the pain of it all and just be in love. He almost cried on the spot because he had an overwhelming rush of pride for his girl and how strong she had been to fight so hard and come out on the other side. Due to her not giving up, he had the privilege of asking her to marry him.

Walking through the door, the quick and loud chattering came to an abrupt stop. It was quiet for a moment before Y/n's voice called out to him, "Lando?"

He smiled, "Yes, baby?"

There was a clatter of glasses on their coffee table and feet hitting the hardwood floor before she was appearing around the corner in all his radiance.

"What are you doing home so early?" She asked as her eyebrows furrowed.

He pulled her into him, giving her a light kiss on her lips before smiling mischievously at her, "Why? You got another man in there?" He joked with her.

She laughed, "No, you know I would never do that, dumbass."

As they entered the dining room, being met with Paige's and Lily's smiling faces at the happy couple, they sat down on the couch as Lando eyed the half empty bottle of wine. Paige had an inkling about what he was going to do considering she sent the text and was met with his telling her he was on his way.

"So, why are you here so early?" Y/n asked as his arm laid over her shoulders and she snuggled further into him.

Lando sucked in a breath, suddenly nervous, "I needed to ask you a question."

Y/n's brows furrowed, "Oh? What's up?"

"Marry me?" He said immediately as he pulled out the box he had been carrying around for years.

Y/n's mouth fell open as her eyes began to glisten with tears and she met the gaze of her best friends, glad they were here to share this moment with her.

"My love, I have loved you for years and we've been through hell and back together. When we were finally able to rest, I realized that there is no one else in this world that I would rather go through hell and back with. I fall in love with you every single day and your strength amazes me continuously. You deserve so much after everything you've been through and I'm asking if you'll let me be the man to give it all to you and more." He finished and took the ring out of the box, taking her hand in his and looking at her with his calming green eyes.

She smiled the biggest she ever had in the past few years, "Of course, Lando. Always."

As he slipped the ring onto her finger, Paige and Lily shot up from their seated positions on the floor and started shrieking with excitement, hugging each other and jumping up and down. As the couple kissed softly, their yelling intensified.

And as Y/n continued smiling at Lando, she looked around the room only to find a small family that had done everything they could to keep her alive.

[ninyard]

please can you explain what kevins part of the deal wth andrew is because ive never really understood it and i feel like you probably get it

Okay. So. (tw; brief sh/suicide mention)

My understanding of Kevin and Andrew’s deal in the best way i can possibly explain it and HOPEFULLY i saw what i mean and it makes sense:

TLDR: Kevin promised to give him purpose, and Andrew’s waiting to see if that’s even possible.

There’s this part in TRK where Kevin tells Neil about their deal -

I’ve seen a few posts about Andrew’s mental health recently - about how Andrew wanted to recover, how he wanted to survive.

I think it’s hard to imagine Kevin and Andrew’s relationship sometimes because we see so little of it aside from Kevin keeping his pills, but there’s this;

I think it was Andrew who told him this. Andrew told Kevin that without his drugs he was destructive and joyless, in whatever context it was mentioned in. He told Kevin he had no ambition for life. (or because Neil says he tried to “remember her exact words” he talked to her? Read the files? But what are the chances of that?) I like to think that early on before they’d made their deal, Kevin asked him about his meds and Andrew told him. I think he’s quoting Andrew, who quoted his counsellor.

We know Andrew was struggling with self-harm. I know when Neil described Andrew’s scars as “up and down” his arm, it most likely means in a literal sense - from the top to the bottom of his forearm, but coupled with this;

I wonder if Andrew’s depression led him to have a closer relationship with suicide than we think. He had 12 psychiatrists before Bee. What are the chances that all of them are from after Cass? (ie Andrew’s mental health journey started before her)

STICK WITH ME HERE.

Regardless of who told him what, I think a part of Kevin saw that Andrew having no purpose was dangerous. I think Andrew himself worried that without his meds he’d fall back into this rabbit hole of having nothing to live for, having no purpose, having no point to continue living. And Andrew wanted to survive. Any excuse to live was worth it. Even if he didn’t believe in it himself, even if he saw it was pointless - leaving us with:

Going back to that first quote “he’s waiting to see if I can keep it.” If it’s even possible. It’s like finding tiny reasons to stay alive when you’re suicidal - I can’t kill myself because my favourite band might release new music. I can’t kill myself because my favourite tv show was cancelled, but there’s a chance it might come back. I’ll never hear my favourite person laugh again, I’ll never see the sunset again, there a chance that I’ll miss being an uncle, or I might miss my brothers wedding, or I might miss the invention of something life changing. My favourite band that broke up might get back together again - it’s unlikely, but I have to stay alive just in case.

Exy might be my purpose, and even if I don’t believe it, I still need something to live for.

So Kevin gave him something to live for. He believes in him.

Kevin was the first person to see any worth in Andrew - maybe since Cass, maybe ever - and Andrew knew that.

So Andrew gave Kevin his game; even if he won’t play with Kevin because he thinks it’s funny or whatever.

When Kevin came to PSU, he needed a reason to stay, something that would make transferring to the team worth it. And he knew Andrew was worth it. He knew how Andrew could play, how he should be court. Sure, David was there, but Kevin stayed because of Andrew. Andrew offered him protection, and then gave Kevin a reason to believe in the foxes. Every other player might’ve been dog shit and not worth a second of Kevin’s time, not worth his talent, not worth investing in.

But Andrew was.

Andrew could be court.

If Andrew promised Kevin he would allow him to give him purpose in Exy, then that gave Kevin reason to stay. Does that make sense? Kevin wouldn’t have stayed infthe Foxes were actually the worst team in the league. But with Andrew there, they weren’t, and that was reason enough to stay.

Kevin sees Andrew’s worth - he sees what he can do to keep Andrew going, so when Kevin says “he’s waiting to see if I can keep it,” I think it’s Andrew waiting to see if he’s right. Can he actually give me a career out of this? A life out of this? Maybe it’s a lack of self worth on Andrew’s part. He clearly doesn’t care about how good he is. But does he know? Does he even believe it?

So he’s waiting for Kevin to keep his promise. To prove that he’s good enough. To prove that Exy can realistically actually be his purpose.

But Andrew both believes and doesn’t believe that that’ll ever happen. He’s a walking contradiction. On the one hand he says out loud, “im waiting for Kevin to give up,” but I don’t think he means: im fucking with him and don’t believe him. I think he means: im waiting for him to finally see in me what I see in me, which is somebody who isn’t worth it. It comes from a place of self doubt/lack of self worth. It comes from a place of not believing he actually has anything to live for. It comes from that self destructive instinct that he has.

Andrew wants to survive, but he doesn’t believe that he can.

Andrew’s deal with Kevin: I’ll keep you safe and give you a reason to stay*

Kevin’s deal with Andrew: I’ll give you purpose and something to live for*

*but neither of these things can exist without the other. Kevin won’t stay if Andrew doesn’t see that he’s good enough for Exy to be his purpose, if he doesn’t let Kevin prove he was right by believing in him. If he doesn’t, then Kevin can’t give him something to live for.

Kevin promised to give him purpose, and Andrew’s waiting to see if that’s even possible.

Does uh. That make sense?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for buying an adopt someone else really wanted?

This is the most terminally online issue I've ever had but I'm beginning to feel like shit over it so figured it wouldn't hurt to send in.

(tw for suicide and minor abuse mention)

🦜🥭 for recognition

Long story short, I saw an adoptable I really liked. For anyone who doesn't know adopts are character designs other people can buy, some of them are auctions and some are just flat priced. This one was an auction and I SB'd on it, and about 4 hours before the auction ended someone else started bidding. It got to the price where it was honestly just easier to AB it and they stopped bidding after I went with AB. (to be clear, this specific adopt had multiple AB options, if they wanted to outbid me they had to outbid me via the more expensive AB's)

I got the adopt and have already paid for it, the character is officially mine. Soon after I got the character I started getting some pm's from some people I had never talked to before via discord (my discord is public on my socials for commission reasons so they didn't like. stalk me to get it or anything weird)

They were telling me I was kind of a dick for autobuying that adopt and saying I should go look at the profile of the other bidder when I asked them what was wrong. The other bidder had this large paragraph about how they felt suicidal and had just escaped an abusive situation and the message was meant for people commissioning them, saying they'd get to commissions eventually and they were struggling.

I immediately felt kinda bad but not super bad. I messaged the people telling them I was sorry and they launched into this huge rant about how the other bidder was their friend and I should be ashamed because they really wanted the adopt and I was terrible for raising the price and making it so the only way they could get it was spending a significant amount of money and that they didn't have that money rn.

Not sure if it adds any context but the price I paid for the first AB was 50$, the only way they could've outbid me was increasing it to 100$, so it was a somewhat large sum. I genuinely feel kinda bad now and ended up muting their friends because they keep calling me a terrible person.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[thefandomlesbian]

Inspired by the post by @oddlittlestories about Wilson touching House's sensitive points--specifically, the mention of the strongyloides patient and the afterlife. This is something I've been stewing on for awhile.

I don't think House's issue with the afterlife and the strongyloides patient was solely stemming from his own personal obsession or ongoing issues with suicidality related to his disability.

4x03, 97 Seconds, is only four episodes after 3x22 Resignation, in which House discovers Wilson has been taking antidepressants and it's implied Wilson has been struggling with his depression and simultaneously refuses to tell House anything about it, no matter how House pries. House makes his own inferences, that this is either a new thing or a change in prescription because of worsening depression, but Wilson deflects when he tries to ask. It's one of Wilson's sensitive points. We learn (and House explicitly observes later) that Wilson shuts down particularly painful topics, mostly relating to loss, and this is one that he shuts down hard and fast by accusing House of not caring about him.

House, true to character when it comes to all things Wilson, assumes the worst. We don't know what Wilson is actually going through, that's left to be guessed at by the audience, but we do know that House has been effectively shut out while continuing to be concerned.

And then, only a few episodes later, we get two different patients: a man who experienced cardiac arrest and replicates it in front of House for the thrill, and a physically disabled man who discusses being free of his mortal body. We see House and Wilson have exchanges about both of these patients. First, about the knife in the outlet patient:

House repeatedly tries to draw Wilson back to the topic of suicidality, why? how? what was the plan? and Wilson repeatedly avoids the topic until he gives up and leaves the scene sooner than have the conversation. My read: The implication is that Wilson at some point in the past (whether or not this is recent past or long past, we don't know) dealt intimately with suicidal ideation that makes him uncomfortable, either personally or with a family member (maybe his brother). House takes this as confirmation.

So then, this scene is followed up later in the episode, where Wilson and House together are with the disabled strongyloides patient, who is telling them he does not want cancer treatment. The patient says death will be a relief--in front of Wilson, House looks at him before he addresses the patient. It triggers a knee-jerk reaction, anger.

House recognizes he oversteps and leaves the patient, but the argument continues between him and Wilson in the hallway. It goes much deeper than trying to talk a terminally ill man into living a few months longer, because the argument isn't really about him; he's just a narrative vessel for this conversation between these two characters.

The most popular read for this exchange is that House is arguing for himself, that he thinks misery isn't a good enough reason to take his life and he is telling himself that death isn't a worthy escape (which is definitely a valid read of the scene). But given the recent context of Wilson's depression, his utter refusal to share anything with House and therefore the audience, his complete discomfort with the suggestion of suicidal ideation and all the big questions like why and how and what for... I don't think House's actions after this scene are for House.

We have this argument where Wilson is arguing in defense of a man who is passively suicidal. "You don't know death isn't better, you can't know, death could be better. There could be a solace after all of this, you don't know." If this conversation is framed in context of Wilson being depressed and having potentially been suicidal, he's not defending the patient--he's defending himself, for having had those thoughts. And House is arguing with him, against those thoughts. Wilson's conclusion is you can't go to the afterlife and see how much it sucks.

Of course House's conclusion is to go to the afterlife and see how much it sucks.

This is the song playing while House contemplates what he needs to do.

Starting over anew without a partner, not knowing how to make sense of things, becoming a new terrified person in lieu of someone who is supposed to be there--that's where his mind is. He goes to look at the electrical outlet patient, just staring in silence. What could be so good that it needs to be revisited? He must be wrong. (Note that at no point does House ever share with Wilson that the electrical outlet patient's claim that death was the best 97 seconds of his life--he asks Wilson why but never follows up with the answer.)

So House pages Amber and tries to try to kill himself, as convoluted as it sounds, so he can know the afterlife isn't good. So he can have proof. So he'll have evidence. He'll know it sucks, even worse than Detroit, they can't have this argument again.

House says it explicitly. "You insisted that I needed to see for myself." He had to know.

House wants to talk about what he experienced. He deliberately seeks out someone who will understand, asks for that person specifically, he wants to share. But with Wilson, he digs in his heels. Entrenched. We see that Wilson is generally the person House shares personal things with, such as the suspected identity of his biological father, he goes directly to Wilson after Dominika leaves in S8, he seeks him out throughout the Stacy arc in S2, pesters him while the fellows are fleeing in S3 even after the Tritter arc, his soft place to land during and after rehab in S6--Wilson is House's number one confidant.

Not on this subject. He refuses to say anything, except, "I love you." He doesn't respond to Wilson's criticism that he's already had near-death experiences before; he doesn't bite at any of the bait. Not talking about it. The person he wants to share with isn't there, so he doesn't share, not even with Wilson. The only thing we get as the audience is his dialogue to the corpse at the end of the episode.

This is also not something he shares with Wilson. Too much of a sensitive spot, too tender.

But all leading to my conclusion that... House didn't put the knife in the electrical socket for himself. As Wilson points out, House has had multiple near-death experiences. He doesn't need to almost die to find out what happens. He's already seen it. He already knows.

The character who has most recently displayed new depressive tendencies in this context isn't House. Wilson is the one refusing to discuss his mental health, ostensibly taking new psych drugs or minimally increasing the dosages, becoming uncomfortable with conversations about the difficult questions of suicide, and verbally defending a man's desire to die to end the mortal coil.

House didn't put the knife in the electrical socket to fight release for himself. He's been in chronic pain for a decade at this point, it hasn't changed, he has treated patients with self-destructive tendencies in the interim with no impact to his own mental health. This event didn't strike at a vulnerable time for House; it struck at a time when House knows Wilson is struggling, specifically when he has already tried to offer help and Wilson accused him of not caring. He had to do something.

House put the knife in the outlet to fight for Wilson. To have evidence, to talk him down. "See? I proved it. There's nothing. Now you know for sure. Now you have to stay with me."

That would be too saccharine. But he says, "I love you," and that's what he means.

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova. I also do not condone the beliefs or actions of Coriolanus or Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova becomes Mrs. Snow.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: THIS IS A VERY DARK CHAPTER. It contains violence, verbal/physical abuse/domestic violence, mention of death and suicide, misogyny, Coriolanus being horrible, HEAVY ALLUSIONS TO SEX, NONCON, swearing

A/n: This was painful to write🥲

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

No matter what she did, Bellova couldn’t stop the silent screams that echoed throughout her mind.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. 

She’d fantasized about it as a little girl, laying in her bed wide awake when she was supposed to be sleeping, thinking about a beautiful, luxurious wedding held in her honor. How she’d carefully pick her bridal party, and go dress shopping with them, and pick out a gorgeous white gown to walk down the aisle in. How she’d meticulously write out her passionate vows, and how she’d recite them to her future husband while the entire audience struggled to hold back tears of joy. Perhaps she would shed a tear or two, but her blinding smile would distract from that. After kissing her groom, a large reception filled to the brim with all of her favorite foods and drinks would be held. She’d have the first dance with her new husband, and then take the dance floor with her beloved father, who would undoubtedly be hesitant to give her away. But he would, because he loved her, and wanted her to be happy. 

As she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror of her dressing room, she knew that all of those dreams would never be fulfilled. 

Half of them had already been crushed. 

She had no bridal party. She didn’t get to choose her wedding dress. Her vows were generic and lacked any honesty. If she shed any tears while reciting them, they would be ones of despair. The kiss she shared with her husband would be for show, not because he really loved her. The reception and the first dance would be for the cameras and newspapers only. 

And there would be no father-daughter dance.

Her husband-to-be had ensured that. 

“You’re all set, miss,” the makeup artist said, setting down the brush that had been dusting powder across Bellova’s cheeks. “Do you feel comfortable in your gown? If you need anything adjusted, please let us know now. The ceremony will be quite long, and it will be less enjoyable if you are in any kind of pain.”

‘I am,’ the repressed voice inside of her wanted to scream. ‘I have been for almost a whole year.‘ 

Instead, she shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you. I require no adjustments.” 

Bellova looked at her reflection once more, and an invisible string forced her lips to smile.

The white silk wedding dress was a custom design, made specifically for her and only her to wear. The neckline, which was an off-the-shoulder cut, was lined with faux white roses. They were itchy, and in Bellova’s opinion, they looked extremely tacky. They were beautiful, but she knew they were only there to remind her who she belonged to. The dress laced up in the back, giving her waist a “snatching” effect. If it was tightened just a centimeter more, she was sure it would crack her ribs. 

Besides the roses, she hated the ridiculously large bow at the bottom of the corset laces the most. It looked far too girlish for a grown woman. 

But she had no say in the making of the dress. And she knew by now that protesting would only make her miserable life worse.

Her mind was dragged through hell and back every moment she was awake. Most of the time, she was morphed into a completely new person. She felt like a puppet being controlled by the devil himself, doing and saying things against her will. She only came out of this trance-like state at night, when the curse Dr. Gaul had planted on her was lifted temporarily. She would unleash her rage as quickly and violently as she could, throwing things and screaming profanities. Her captor had to make her bedroom soundproof, because her piercing cries would alarm the staff of the Reginelle estate. 

One night, Enolio had burst into her room after hearing a loud bang and a scream. Bellova had thrown a punch at her fiancé but missed, giving him an opportunity to lift her up and slam her to the ground.

The next morning, when she awoke, she was back under the influence of the serum. A small voice suppressed deep in her brain screamed for her to ask what had happened to the butler, but she couldn’t get the words out. It was as if an invisible gag was stuffed into her mouth.

She never saw Enolio again. 

“Could you give me a moment alone, please?” Bellova said to the makeup artist. “I’ll make my way to my designated place in a moment so the ceremony can begin.” The woman nodded, and left the room promptly. 

As soon as she was alone, the tears that had been threatening to spill over for the three hours it took to prepare for the wedding finally came. She sunk down to the floor, shaking like a leaf.

It took all of her mental strength to fight against the hypnotizing drugs that had infected her brain. They threatened to take away any ounce of autonomy she had over herself, and if she allowed that to happen, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to regain it. It was if a thick fog had settled over her mind, and she had to constantly strain her eyes to see through it. If she let her guard down, she’d start believing she was truly the submissive girlfriend of the Snow heir.

She had to get out of here. By tying the knot, she’d be tying herself to him forever. That would mean that he won. That she had given up, and accepted her fate as his wife slave. 

She longed to make a run for it, escaping the venue and heading for the Capitol border. But where would she go? She had nobody to seek shelter with. She wouldn’t make it far, anyway. Her dress was heavy and long, greatly restricting her ability to move. Peacekeepers or one of the guests would catch her before she got very far. 

And after her fiancé got through with her, she’d be utterly, completely doomed. 

She’d rather die by her own hand than his. 

But suicide would mean that he had won. And she’d suffered for so long that she couldn’t bear to give him that. 

No, she would live on. She would play along, for the sake of her own survival. 

And when the perfect opportunity arose, she would strike. She would make him regret ruining her life and her future. She would laugh as he pleaded for mercy, and then bring him immeasurable pain.

But at the moment, she had a wedding to attend. Her wedding.

Bellova sighed, plastering a smile on her dolled-up face. 

It was time for her to officially become Mrs. Coriolanus Snow. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova’s head spun. 

Her dress was feeling more like a straight jacket every minute. Her high heels were digging into her Achilles, and she was sure they had broken the skin. Between that and the never-ending turmoil inside of her mind, she felt like she was going to faint.

She gasped for air as subtly as she could, as not to alert the hundreds of guests attending the reception. She didn’t want to cause a fuss and pay the consequences in private. 

After all, she knew that Coriolanus wouldn’t hesitated to “discipline” her. He’d made that very clear during the past several month.

Her husband was seated mere inches from her, sipping a glass of champagne. A silver ring glistened on his left hand. It had been custom made, and matched Bellova’s perfectly. 

She looked down at her own wedding band. It was borderline obnoxious, but it was fitting for a family as pretentious as the Snows. Each of the stones was clear with a slight blue hue, and they were arranged to resemble a snowflake.

It was her another way for Coriolanus to declare her as his.

Bellova finished her glass of wine. It was her third of the night, and she was starting to feel extremely foggy. She knew it was not the smartest idea to become inebriated on her wedding night, but it helped ease the physical and mental pain. 

She kept her mouth sealed, only speaking to guests who approached the newly wedded  couple to congratulate them. Even then, she only said a few words, giving them a polite “thank you for coming”. She did her best to look elated. 

Part of her conscience, which had been overtaken by that wretched serum, truly was happy. It tried to convince her that she’d just tied the knot with the love of her life.

But deep down, she was fuming.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Coriolanus glance at his watch. It was nearing midnight, and most of the guests were beginning to retire to their homes. Soon, it would be time for them to leave as well. 

But they wouldn’t be going back to the Reginelle estate. No, they would be taking a limousine to District Four, where their honeymoon suite was waiting for them.

Bellova’s stomach churned unpleasantly. She knew all about what usually happened during the first night of married life. 

She knew she couldn’t resist Coriolanus without being tortured or drugged again. He’d just inject her with her nightly dose of the serum, and then she’d have little to no control over herself. 

Should she try to enjoy it? She’d be lying if she claimed she’d never fantasied about sleeping with Coriolanus before. 

But this wasn’t how she’d imagine it would be. Not in the slightest. 

In her daydreams during her Academy days, she had imagined it would take place once Coriolanus finally stopped bitching at her. He’d realize how perfect she was for him, and would beg her to be his girl. And when they were both ready, they’d take things to the most intimate level. 

But Bellova was fully aware that Coriolanus didn’t love her. If he did decide to sleep with her, it wouldn’t be out of love. It would be yet another of his acts of dominance, to reassure him that he was in control. 

Bellova looked down at her lap to avoid her husband’s gaze, her heart sinking deeper into her stomach by the second. 

Though she couldn’t see it, she could feel Coriolanus give her a cold, cruel smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Bellova thought she was anxious before the  wedding, she had no idea what to call her current state.

Coriolanus had a vice-like grip on her left hand, and there was no indication that he’d release her anytime soon. This had started as soon as their driver announced that their destination was only ten minutes away.

He hadn’t spoken a word to her since they’d gotten in the limousine. Bellova had been slightly offended hurt by this. Shouldn’t a husband be happy to be in his wife’s company? 

‘Stop being stupid,’ the small voice whispered. ‘He doesn’t give a fuck about you, he’s not going to even pretend he cares while you’re in private.’

Bellova slumped against the back of the car seat. She was still dizzy from all of the alcohol she had consumed, but refused to fully let her guard down. 

Coriolanus could wreak unspeakable terrors on her if she stopped resisting. 

.

.

.

As soon as she was alone with Coriolanus were alone in their luxury oceanside suite, Bellova felt the serum start to wear off. 

Coriolanus picked up both of their bags and headed towards the bedroom. Bellova followed suit, metaphorically dragging her feet. He was still ignoring her, which forced a small pout into her lips. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that her beloved wasn’t paying her any attention. 

The bedroom was lavish, but not nearly as nice as her own. The king-sized bed had white silk sheets, and the walls were decorated with oil paintings depicting ocean scenery. There was a large balcony overlooking the sea, which held two plush lounge chairs and a small  glass table. Everything was so picturesque that it could’ve been straight out of a romance novel.

Alas, her life was anything but love story.

As soon as Coriolanus tossed his blazer in a hamper in the corner and began loosening his tie, Bellova felt her stomach constrict.

Was he actually going to fuck her?

Bile rose in her throat. She wasn’t a desperate little schoolgirl anymore, clinging to hopeless dreams. She was a victim, a victim of Coriolanus Snow’s unrelenting apathy. 

No. She wouldn’t let him have his way with her.

The searing pain in her temples told her that she was now in full control of herself. She had to act before she was dragged back under again.

Bellova kicked off her designer heels, not caring in the slightest if they broke, and prepared herself for yet another grueling fight.

But before she could lunge at her enemy, Coriolanus’s head snapped towards her, making her freeze on the spot.

His shirt was already halfway unbuttoned. This didn’t phase her, she’d seen him naked several times before, but purposefully chose to forget those moments. 

It was the hungry gaze in his eyes that made her blood turn to ice.

“You’re really going to do this now?” 

The nonchalance in his tone made Bellova want to scream.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you going to fight like a rabid animal during the first night of our honeymoon?”

Bellova sneered at him. “A broken nose would match perfectly with your crimson tie, if I do say so myself.” 

Coriolanus laughed humorlessly. “Hilarious. Now get undressed.”

Bellova’s fists clenched instinctively. If it wasn’t for the fact that he had a stash of syringes full of that dreaded in his briefcase, she would have decked him in the jaw.

“No.”

Coriolanus rolled his pretty eyes, stepping towards her. She backed away, but her spine quickly hit the wall of the room. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Mrs. Snow. Though it’s not like you have much of a say, anyhow.”

The way Coriolanus had spat out her new title made her flinch. It sounded so wrong, being called Mrs. Snow instead of Miss Reginelle.

“I don’t want you, and you don’t want me. Therefore, we don’t need to do anything tonight. It’s simple, really.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m fucking stupid,” Coriolanus barked. “If we don’t sleep together, people will talk. It’ll look bad for both of us. The press will say-“

“That’s all you care about these days,” Bellova said harshly. “And you’re assuming that the press will somehow know whether or not we fuck.” 

The paranoia was evident in Coriolanus’s eyes. Clearly, this was a very important matter to him. Not because he actually wanted her, but because his shining reputation could be tarnished with rumors concerning their bedroom life. 

“If you stop being a bitch for once, maybe I’ll let you stay off of the serum while we’re in bed, and I’ll consider making this enjoyable for you.”

Bellova rolled her eyes. He sounded like such an asshole, it was a wonder how he didn’t realize it. Or perhaps he did, and just didn’t care.

“What will it be?” Coriolanus asked sharply. “I’m not going to stand around waiting for much longer.”

An eerie silence filled the bedroom as Bellova weighed her options. She could attack him and do as much damage as possible before he drugged her. Or she could give in just for one night, and give herself a break.

She swallowed, and steeled her nerves. She knew exactly what she was going to do. 

“Fuck this,” Coriolanus growled. His hand shot to her throat, squeezing so hard that Bellova could already feel the bruises forming. The familiar coldness of a needle poked at the skin on her neck, making her shudder wildly. 

She hated it, but she was afraid. 

“Please…” she croaked, clawing desperately at his arms. “Don’t do this…not again.”

A horrid scream escaped from her lips as Coriolanus inserted the syringe. She collapsed almost immediately, her face quickly becoming slick with salty tears. 

Coriolanus carelessly lifted her up by the arms and tossed her on the bed. Devoid of any passion or desire, he flipped her onto her stomach and started unlacing the corset of her reception gown. 

There was no gentleness in his touch.

There was only possessiveness and pure madness.

Bellova squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the pillow beneath her face becoming damp. The more skin Coriolanus revealed, the more disgusting she felt. 

As much as she wanted to kick, scream, cry, anything to get away from him, she knew it was useless. The serum was already consuming her, swallowing her true self whole.

By the time he finally got her dress off, she was completely gone.

.

.

.

Coriolanus sucked in a breath, his fingertips ghosting over his bride’s bare thigh. She was already asleep, her body exhausted from everything that had happened throughout the day. 

In their later Academy days, Coriolanus had briefly wondered about what Bellova was like in bed. There were quite a lot of rumors that circled around her regarding her sex life, but he knew most of them were fictitious. However, he knew she was no virgin. Bellova had admitted that at her seventeenth birthday party. 

However, technically, he had been virgin. He didn’t count what had happened in the alley behind the train station years ago.

Coriolanus stared up at the ceiling, replaying the lustful activities he’d just partaken in in his mind. 

It had felt…nice, he supposed. Bellova was pliant and sweet while he was on top of her, thanks to the serum. She had constantly begged for more, and initiated several kisses. He found the pleading quite annoying, and elected to ignore it. Still, she seemed to enjoy herself. He did as well, but found the power he could exert much more thrilling than any physical pleasure. 

Coriolanus pulled Bellova’s sleeping form closer to him. He shuddered at the contact of her bare body pressed against his. She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake. She sighed contentedly, and fell limp again.

Coriolanus smiled.

He would ensure that this was part of their nightly routine. 

And if Bellova didn’t like it? 

Too fucking bad.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊❆ ‧

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy, @effectwalker, @vxnilla-hxrddrugs, @mystargirl-interlude

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This chapter was truly heartbreaking to write. The next chapters won’t be this depressing, I promise. The next chapter will skip ahead to when Coriolanus is an office Gamemaker.

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! (I had to add some of y’all to a comment instead becuz tumblr won’t let me tag more people for some reason☹️)