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shoezuki · 3 years

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This is a post on the cheating accusations around dream mostly surrounding his response video.

If you don’t want to see this or any of these posts then blacklist the tag #discourse

SO I’ve been doing a lot of digging into what dream has said in his response to Geosquare’s original video and report, which was compiled and conducted by the Minecraft Java mods on speedrun.com.

I won’t talk about that original report in detail, but basically: the mods came to the conclusion that Dream had a 1 in 7.5 trillion chance of getting the pearl bartering rates and the blaze drop odds that he did within the 6 streams he did. As in, someone would need that luck to replicate what dream got. Therefore, he cheated.

I’m going to put this into a sort of ‘point form’ in according to topic, attempting to put it in chronological order.

Dream’s Initial Tweets

Ok so first like. these are bad. these tweets are what he said (on twitter, excluding in the speedrunning discord) directly after the video was Uploaded to Geo’s channel.

worth noting he did apologize later, although i wanted to talk about these two instances so i felt the need to include it.

there’s a lot of interesting wording in the apology tweet itself too. I personally find that when he apologizes he tends to still be very subtextually angry in them with the tone, but more specifically. where he says ‘although i have reason to be upset’, that’s kinda weak and really unneeded. Alongside the ‘intense criticism’, it reads as him trying to say he’s still in the right. kind of like “im sorry i was rude even though I had reason to be rude’. Its an apology sure but he’s not saying sorry for how he really reacted; its justified to him.

Dream’s Response Video

Dream posted a response on his side channel DreamXD on the 22nd, along with the report he had a supposed astrophysicist conduct. I’m going to talk about the report separately from the video for reasons I’ll explain.

Frankly, the video doesn’t really summarize or explain the report in a meaningful way. At most, it takes some points from it but tends to twist the numbers around, misunderstand the probability and math, and also what the report itself concludes.

Essentially, dream’s video insists that the numbers found by the mods are wrong and therefore he didn’t cheat at all, yet the report concludes that the numbers found by the mods weren’t entirely accurate, however they’re still extremely unlikely. This is also all under the assumption that the report is entirely correct (ill say how its not next)

His first point is that only his 1.16 run (that was at 5th place two months ago, would have now been 16th) was deemed cheated. This is true; the mods have said that he isnt banned outright and theres no reason to question the legitimacy of his 1.15 runs.

He also concludes that Geo’s statement that Dream didn’t cooperate with them, and that he deleted 1.16 mod folders, was false. This one is a little more complicated. It could more be chalked up to a miscommunication, although it’s relevant. Geosquare posted screenshots of the specific conversation they had:

Essentially it wasn’t entirely clear, i can understand how geo and the mods interpreted it in such a way. Altho April added in a quote retweet thread that dream didn’t supply the folder she asked for, so he didn’t supply everything they asked for like he states in the video

Essentially: yeah, misleading and weird on both ends. I dont think this is really anything quantifiable, although dream talked about this in the video heavily.

Out of this though, Geo DID correct himself in the description of the mods’ video. Dream shows this in his own response, but it crops out some of what geo says. here’s from dream’s video

that Update 2 is where he corrects himself. literally why the fuck would you crop it like this and put it in the video i mean this looks so weird and genuinely doesnt provide anything. Here’s what geo actually said

Dream specifically cut it before the line where geo mentions how he said he deleted his specific 1.16 speedrun profile. This one is just so dumb to me. I’d say ‘why not include that’ but either i feel its a) so there’s no potential for people to say what he had actually said could be interpreted otherwise easily or b) doesnt want people to know he got so upset he deleted files (ego wise yknow). Again, I dont think this is definitive of anything but god. it feels scummy lmao

The Video: Incorrect Representation of His Own Report

Dream straight up doesnt present the report’s numbers properly. In fact it makes the entirety of his visuals forfeit, i.e. the gold block analogy that goes on for like 20 minutes.

The mods said his luck was 1/7.5 trillion. Dream’s report says its 1/10 million (with the addition of 5 other streams) or 1/100 million (only the 6 streams).

I’ll only consider the 1/10 mil odds, since its all dream really brings up. but Basically; there’s not much difference between 1/10 million and 1/7.5 trillion.

Dream says that the difference is 7.5 trillion minus 10 million, aka 7.4999 trillion. This is what his entire visual with the gold blocks is based on. This is absolutely incorrect, i cant stress that enough.

You can’t find the difference of fractions by subtracting only the denominators. Like. this is elementary school math. it just doesnt work.

It’d actually be calculated as: (1/10 000 000) - (1/7 500 000 000 000) = (74999/7 500 000 000 000)

If the mods are wrong, they’re only wrong by 749999/7.5 trillion. that’s literally only 0.000000099999866666667.

Dream no doubt saw the numbers, considered 10 million vs. 7.5 trillion, and used these big numbers to hold his own point. PROBABILITY DOESNT WORK LIKE THAT. I really think he was just taking advantage of the seemingly big numbers here and wrote it out in a way that favoured him. The gold block analogy in the video played throughout the entire video practically, jokes were made on it, and he made a point of it being ‘so big the game crashed’.

It’s just plain wrong. even so a difference in the odds doesnt prove shit. He’s downplaying his own odds that he found too. 1/10 million isnt a small number. Even though the legitimacy of that calculation is in question, it is still significant enough to proclaim he cheated.

Some quick points before I move onto the report; these aren’t as significant in my eyes but it adds to the picture

there’s been criticism of his joking manor throughout the entire video, very specifically the Bill Nye joke. Considering he doesnt actually have a name to provide for his astrophysicist, this joke doesnt feel right

the mod he had a voice clip from (willz) even believes that he cheated and has agreed with the mod team the whole time.

Dream never has a name for the mod who is apparently on his side (more understandable), the minecraft developer he quoted, or the astrophysicist (most damning)

Dream states that fabric is used by most speedrunners which is true, but fabric and fabric API are different; dream also had the latter installed. my knowledge of how theyre different is limited, all i really know is the API is what can enable editing of the code while fabric is more a modloader. im not entirely sure on this

Dream has said at the end of the video that all funds will go to the mod team so they can make a client that will regulate cheaters. this has been noted as feeling manipulative or like a ‘bribe’, but it definitely puts the mods in a bad position.

either they accept it and look like they ‘gave in’ to dream and therefore acknowledge him in the right

they deny it and look selfish/taking dream’s kindness for granted

geo said they would insist it goes to a charity instead

Dream constantly disregards the mods as young, inexperienced, ‘just volunteers’ etcetcetc, despite the fact that theyre analysis has been discussed by people with confirmed PhDs without much criticism

Dream’s Report

The report itself is extremely interesting, in that it’s very questionable, but even so it doesn’t come to the conclusion that dream didn’t cheat. The tone between the video and the report is drastically different.

This is from the “3. What are the goals of this document?” section:

It essentially says this isnt intended, from the very beginning, to completely exonerate dream of cheating. Also note that the author says the mods’ report was mostly correct.

This is at the end of “9 Conclussions”:

It does notably say cheating isnt the only explanation, but it doesnt actually go as far to say that it’s not possible that he cheated.

But this can be argued to not matter if we consider the validity of the report as a whole

Dream’s Report: Criticisms

Possibly the first and most known debunking of the report is by u/mfb on reddit, although there’s been much more such as this programmer criticizing the code provided at the end of the report (partially due to how the author of it stated that piglins barter 4-7 pearls, which is incorrect: it’s 4-8), Andrew Gelman, an actual statistician professor from harvard, commented on the original mods’ report as ‘impressive’ while Dream’s report is being regarded as something funny in the comments, and even analysis of dream’s behaviours and his argument by a law student

But what u/mfb posted is what i’ll focus on. Some background into the user; he’s a particle physicist, is moderator in subreddits like r/cosmology and r/astrophysics, he’s regarded as a reliable source on r/askscience and r/askreddit. Basically, multiple other people have vouched for him and before all this he had many posts in these fields.

that’s already better than the unnamed astrophysicist.

The post is better speaking for itself but here is a few exerpts from it;

Essentially, the report’s methods are debunked by u/mfb-, alongside that a moderator of r/statistics regarded the report as ‘nonsensical in its application of statistics’ and linked to u/mfb-’s comment.

i’m going to end this here. Partially because severe backpain or whatever,.

but I want to say at this point its practically definitive that dream cheated, that he lied to us, and that he continues to do so. Much more could be said on his video such as his tone, intentions, the overt emphasis on the ‘biases’ of the mods.

I havent even mentioned that the ‘astrophysicist’ themself may be a scam; they are sourced from a website that is extremely sketchy, has no names attached to it, and was created less than a year ago (with practically no traffic on it until maybe a month ago).

But i hope this is coherent. I have interest in this so if theres questions im always open.

#dreamwastaken #mcyt #discourse #this ends suddenly because chronic pain a bitch but it stands

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

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inspirational ~ corpse husband

word count: 1589

request?: yes!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do a corpse husband imagine where the reader has a feeding tube? If you can’t that’s perfectly fine, I just haven’t been able to find one yet.”

description: in which the group plays with a popular streamer that has a feeding tube and corpse tells her how much she inspires him

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic pain and cancer, also i only know a little bit about feedings tubes, i tried to do research in order to make myself more familiar but if there’s a lot of inaccuracies or anything i am very sorry i’m gonna try my best

masterlist (one, two)

Corpse listened to his friends shouting at one another to accuse each other of being sus. As usual, there was no use in trying to get a word in. Corpse spoke so softly that no one would even hear him unless they wanted to hear what he was saying.

“(Y/N)!” Toast suddenly exclaimed. “You’re being very quiet right now.”

“Because my damn tube is mixed up in my headphone wires!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sounding like she was far away from her mic. The group chuckled and continued with their conversation about who they thought the imposter was.

(Y/N) was a known Twitch streamer and YouTuber that rose to popularity when she started a series on her YouTube channel to show her journey through cancer treatments. Long before his own sudden boom in popularity, Corpse had watched all of her videos and became invested in her Twitch streams as well. Being someone who also struggled with chronic illness and pain, Corpse felt a sense of hope watching (Y/N) go through her treatment and still seem to optimistic in life and so productive in her YouTube and Twitch channels.

When Toast messaged the Amigops group to ask if anyone wanted to join his Among Us lobby with (Y/N), Corpse jumped at the chance. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her alone, but he was hoping to be able to tell her how much watching her content lifted him up during his worst times.

The meeting ended with no one being voted and brought them back to the office of the Polus map. Since they were playing with proximity chat, the argument from the meeting immediately continued with Rae and Toast warning everyone to stay away from Sean, who they were susing at the second imposter after already voting out Charlie.

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink astronaut run out of the office, silent amongst the chaos. He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, hoping he could meet her somewhere alone so he could talk to her.

He ran into O2 and noticed a pink bean in the boiler room stood by the water wheels. He ran in and stood in the doorway a moment before speaking.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“Ah fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Corpse! Don’t scare me like that!”

Corpse chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m okay with that. I feel like being killed by Corpse Husband in Among Us is like a rite of passage at this point.”

Corpse slowly approached (Y/N) to which she quickly ran away from him to the other water wheel. He laughed again before assuring her, “I’m not an imposter, you can trust me.”

“I don’t think I can, but I will choose to trust,” she told him.

“I actually came looking for you because I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things running through Corpse’s mind. He just wanted to blurt out everything he had thought about (Y/N) and her story, to thank her for giving him hope, to tell her what an inspiration she was. But his words caught in his throat and he struggled to get anything out.

Finally, he said, “What’s it like trying to be a streamer with your...with the um...”

“The feeding tube?” (Y/N) finished for him. “You can say it, Corpse. It’s not exactly a secret.”

He sighed, glad that she had a joking tone about it. “Yeah, with the feeding tube.”

“It’s annoying,” (Y/N) admitted. “Like...I’m assuming you’ve seen my streams or my videos but for the sake of anyone watching your stream who hasn’t: I have a nasogastric feeding tube, or an NG-tube, which is a feeding tube that goes in through the nose. As cliché as it is, just picture Hazel Grace from the Fault in our Stars. Additional cliché, I have it because I had cancer and the treatments left me so malnourished that I need a feeding tube even after I’ve gone into remission. So, because it’s tubes that are connected in my nose, I keep getting my headphone wires tangled in my tube or, very rarely, my mic wires, and it’s fucking annoying. It hurts like a bitch when I go to stand up and I yank the wires by accident or something.”

“Does...does anything else hurt? Because of the cancer or the treatment or anything?”

“Not as much as it used to. I went into remission like nearly a year ago, so I’m doing better. It’s a process, but it’s had an amazing outcome in the end so I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I find you really inspirational,” Corpse finally blurted.

He felt his face heat up with slight embarrassment as (Y/N) giggled. “You do?”

“Yeah. I followed your series about your recovery and I’ve watched some of your livestreams every now and then. What always stood out to me was when you talked about the negative side effects of your treatment, and eventually having to put the feeding tube in and how you’ve found that effects you, too. Being someone with chronic illness and constant pain, I’ve also had those days where it feels like even getting out of bed is too much work and I don’t feel like I can stream or make a video, but then my anxiety tells me that everyone is going to forget about me if I don’t make some type of content, so it’s just an internal struggle when really I should be resting.”

“Being a content creator and having an illness is tough,” (Y/N) agreed. “It feels like you can’t take a day off. I sometimes regret making that series because on days that I felt absolutely awful, I didn’t want to film or edit anything, but I felt like I had to because so many people were watching. Ironically enough, that became the topic of one of those videos; I just sat in front of my camera looking the worst I think I’ve ever looked on camera and talked about how exhausted I felt just from being alive, but felt like I couldn’t rest because of my channel. That’s when I started taking longer breaks between videos and streaming. Your fans won’t leave you, not the true fans anyways. They’ll always be by your side even if you decide to disappear from the Internet forever.”

Corpse half smiled to himself. “I’ve thought about doing that sometimes.”

“It’ll be easy for you to do that where you’re faceless. No one would bother you even after you left the Internet cause they’d have no idea it was you unless you spoke.”

A brief pause in their conversation caused them to hear Sean yelling as he ran past the room. (Y/N) giggled and walked out of the room. Corpse followed, hoping to continue the conversation somewhere else.

“It means a lot to me that you think that about me, though,” (Y/N) continued as she ran into the storage room. “I find you pretty inspirational too.”

This took Corpse by surprise. He didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he heard that all the time from his fans, and it always meant the world to him to know that people found him to be an inspiration, but it felt different to hear that from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“I wish I could’ve been a faceless creator like you,” she said when Corpse didn’t respond. “One of my biggest regrets is probably showing my face online. Although, it wouldn’t make sense for me not to show my face when I’m making a series about cancer treatment, but people can be mean. Even when someone is struggling with illness or a disease, the Internet doesn’t care. Whatever makes them feel better over someone else feeling like shit.”

“I still get a lot of hateful messages even though I’m faceless, though.”

“You do, but you’re so unbothered by it. Publicly anyways. When I get messages about how sickly I look I get so overwhelmed with sadness and I just wanna delete my channel forever. I can’t even fake not caring because it really does effect me.”

“Stick with me, I’ll teach you my ways. My favorite is trolling the troll.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink bean approach his black one. “I’m glad we had this chat, Corpse. It made me really happy, but now it also makes doing this a lot harder.”

Corpse gasped as a kill animation popped up on the screen and (Y/N)’s astronaut quickly disappeared into the nearby vent. He was stunned into silence for a long time, just watching his ghost floating above his dead body. To make matters worse, (Y/N) had closed the door to storage so no one would find his body unless they had to go in there.

Charlie’s ghost floated through the walls and came to float next to Corpse’s. “Figured out Jack wasn’t the other imposter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, laughing. “She really had me fooled. Buttered me up with compliments then killed me.”

“I taught her well,” Charlie comments before floating away again.

Corpse couldn’t help but laugh about the situation. He wasn’t mad, more impressed than anything. And he was a little happy; he got to talk to someone that had always been an inspiration to him and he made a new friend.

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years

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Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Final Part

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: Convinced that you’re bad for his friend, Minho lashes out at you, leaving you even more hurt and confused than you already were.

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, sub!minho, dom!reader, slapping, degradation, bratty!minho, kinda virgin!minho, he never had his ass fucked before lol, threesome, voyeurism, lots of dirty talk as per usual, cumplay, cum and drool all over, minho getting broken, but like it’s all consensual, and the reader is attentive, even though she wants to punch him, minor aftercare, jealous!jisung, deep-throating, pegging, fingering, minho is a mess, this fic is a mess, and I gave up proof-reading it so yes

You miss Jisung.

He’s been avoiding you ever since your movie night, hurt by your rejection. You wanted to respect his decision, you really did, but you feel like shit not being able to see his smile every single day like you used to. It was like your morning cup of coffee; sure, you could survive without it, but then you’d be dull and lifeless the whole day and what’s the point in that? You miss hearing him laugh, his adorable little giggles, so boyish and carefree, they make whatever was troubling you seem trivial. He never smiles at you anymore… and your days have been significantly less bright for it. The only thing that breaks the ominous gloom that has taken over your life are the ripples of lightning that flash in his eyes whenever your eyes accidentally meet, the pain still fresh in his mind.

You’re at your wit’s end by now. Even if it’s selfish, you’ve decided that you’re not gonna take this any longer; you’re gonna go to him. To say or do what? You don’t know. All you know is that you can’t take being without him any longer.

With each step you take towards him, your world gets a little brighter, a sliver of sunlight shining through the dark grey clouds. You feel good about this. You can almost feel the warmth seeping through your skin…but then a terrible storm comes between you, blocking the heavens out of sight.

Minho appears out of nowhere—or maybe he had been there all along, and you just hadn’t noticed, too busy staring at your sunshine boy. He grabs you without a word, and drags you away.

“What are you doing?” You panic, whipping your head around you to see a confused Jisung watching Minho lead you out of the practice room.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” He cautions as soon as you’re out of earshot, dark and unforgiving. “I’ve just barely gotten him to stop moping around because of you. I won’t let you destroy all the progress we’ve made so back off and let him move on.”

Oh. So apparently you weren’t that slick about your intentions. Minho must’ve noticed the longing glances you’ve been throwing at Jisung and the way you’ve been hovering around lately, nervous and trying to build up the courage to talk to him, something that Minho seems intent on preventing.

“Shouldn’t he be the one who decides if he wants to move on or not?” You bristle, feeling threatened by the boy who wants to take your sunshine away. You could feel your heart shrivel up at the thought that Jisung could move on from you so quickly. That—if it were up to Minho—another could be basking in the warmth that is him while you’re left behind, the only thing keeping you company is the memory of the sunlight on your skin.

Why does Minho want to hurt you like that? What did you do to him to deserve something so cruel?

“You know he won’t. He’s too sweet for his own good and that’s what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”

“Why are you talking to me like it’s my plan to hurt him? I care about him, believe it or not.”

“I don’t. Not after I’ve watched him bend over backwards to get you to like him when you’ve been nothing but a frigid bitch to him.”

“So you just expect me to reciprocate the attention of anyone who shows interest in me? Don’t I have the right to think about it? Matter of fact, have you ever considered that it’s his eagerness that put me off in the first place? Not everyone has their feelings on eleven, and some of us need some time before we can let someone in.”

“So what, you’re saying you like him now?” He sneers flippantly, mocking you.

“Maybe I do.” You mutter, fidgeting under his accusatory gaze.

“Maybe is not good enough. You said it yourself, Jisung feels too much. When he loves someone, he gives them his all, and he needs someone who can give their all to him as well, and let’s not kid ourselves, that person isn’t you. If you really cared about him then you’ll stay away from him. He can get over you if you back off now, but if you let him get too involved then decide you can’t handle him after all, it would crush him.”

“What if he hurts me? Why do you assume that I’d be the bad guy here?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if he hurts you. He’s my friend. He’s the one I care about.”

“Wow, thanks—”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off, not caring to hear what you have to say. “Don’t fuck with my members. They’re my family. You don’t deserve him so just step aside and let him find someone who can love him like he needs.”

“I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” You retort, trying to act like his flippantly cruel comment hadn’t cut you up inside, but the mirthless chuckle doesn’t make it past your constricting throat and your eyes fill up with tears that you refuse to shed in his presence.

“I’m gonna… yeah.” You spin on your heel just before the first droplets break off, and scurry away.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Waking up with a groan, you blindly throw your arm out from under the blanket and feel for the source of the noise that had ripped you away from your slumber at this undoubtedly ungodly hour. When your hand encounters the loathsome object, you bring it to your ear and answer it without even checking to see who was calling—and not caring to in your enthusiasm to curse them off for waking you up.

“I swear to god if this is not about someone dying—”

“Noona…” You almost miss the small voice over your own anger, stopping you in your tracks. You shoot up, all sleep suddenly leaving your eyes as you clutch the phone in both hands as if you can physically keep the other person on the line that way.

“Han?!”

“Did I wake you up, noona?” He asks dumbly, but your anger was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“No, nooo, I was already up…getting some water.” You wince at your stupid lie. It was obvious he’d woken you up. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s three in the morning and your voice sounds like that of an eighty year-old man suffering from chronic lung disease, but you’re not about to tell him that. Shaking your head, you try to brush off the stupid. “Anyway, what’s up?”

What’s up? Apparently the stupid was more deeply ingrained than you thought.

“Oh, I… umm, I’m in the studio and I’ve been working on this song that… is just kicking my ass, you know? And…um,” He trails off into an awkward silence, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since middle school.

Was he waiting for you to finish his thought? You hope not because you had no idea where he was going with this. Was he looking for a pep talk or something? Oh god, what were you supposed to tell him? You weren’t prepared for this.

A frustrated sigh cuts off your panicked musings.

“I’ve told you before how you’ve been like a…a muse to me—oh god, that sounds so dumb and cheesy but it’s true, and without you around it’s just—”

Another deep sigh and a long pause. You can practically feel him telepathically willing you to understand what he needs but you were slow from sleep and your ability to figure out what he wanted without using words had gone rusty from disuse.

Still, the silence was suffocating so you decide to take a shot in the dark. “Do… do you want phone sex?”

“No! What? No!” He squeaks in that adorable panicked voice of his and despite the weird situation, it puts a smile on your face.

“Can you just come to the studio?” He ventures wearily, “Not to hook up or anything! I think I just… need you near me.”

You gasp at his confession. You’ve only dared to wish for something like this in your dreams, the time and distance that grew larger between you with each passing day having all but left you hopeless that he’d want you back.

Misinterpreting your reaction, he hurries to apologize, “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask and you probably don’t want to see me—”

“It’s not!” You cut him off, scared he’d hang up before you even had a chance to speak for yourself. “I want to see you, Han. I’ll be there soon.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The big studio feels suffocatingly small with just the two of you inside, all the baggage you two have been carrying over the months taking up too much space for you to comfortably breathe. You needed to cast them away but you’re not sure how.

“So…what are you working on?” You valiantly, and awkwardly, break the loaded silence, startling Jisung as if he hadn’t expected to hear you speak.

Clearing his throat, he turns towards the control board and fumbles with the buttons. “Let me show you.”

He gives you no further instruction so you just stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before going ahead and grabbing one of the extra chairs and pulling it up to sit beside him.

“This is the song I told you about.”

As the song starts playing, he stares ahead, chewing on his bottom lip and not checking to see your reaction. When his voice comes on, he blushes a little. “This is just the demo. The finished version will have a much better vocalist like Woojin-hyung or Seungminnie to sing it.”

“I like your voice, Han.” You answer without thinking, but it’s true. Jisung may not be the main vocalist but you like the tone of his voice regardless. “I think it’s, um, sweet.

“You don’t have to flatter me, noona.”

“I’m not.” Your firm tone makes his eyes automatically look over to you. “I like it, ok?”

“Ok.” He bites his lips and looks straight ahead once again.

When the song finishes, he asks for your opinion.

“I like it…” You start, hesitating.

“But?”

“But I feel like it’s missing something.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims, pressing his fingers against his temples in frustration. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, stressed that he’s looking at you like he expects you to have an answer. “You’re the producer.”

“I know. I’m just frustrated and tired.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “I’ve been working on it for so long but it’s still not right.”

“Why don’t you take a little break? Maybe it’s not working out because you’re forcing it.” You suggest.

“A break? Like do nothing?” He cocks his head at you, a little confused frown on his face as he considers your words, seeming as if the thought had never crossed his mind before.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ok.” He blinks and leans back in his chair, his frown intensifying as if he’s hearing about the concept of relaxation for the first time in his life.

As cute as he looks right now—and he looks gosh darn cute with that kissable pout on his lips and the way he had tugged his legs against his chest, looking so tiny—you realize that you need to distract him before his mind goes haywire from overthinking.

“Or you could show me some of your other work?”

His eyes snap up to you, wide and excited at the proposition. “You wanna hear more of my stuff?”

You smile gently at him, assuring him that, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The awkwardness dissipates soon after that, as he—at first self-consciously, and then proudly—shows off his work to you, swelling up with each word of praise you profess to him, and you, in turn, swell up with a special kind of pride you’ve never felt for anyone before, a feeling that made you want to proclaim to the world that ‘Yeah, that’s my baby, right there. Isn’t he wonderful?’

You’ve always known that Jisung was gifted, but to get to see him in his element like this, his talent in its rawest form, was an experience you never knew you needed. He was so passionate and genuine about his work, it honestly made you a little teary-eyed.

“Wow, you’re really good at this stuff.” You conclude stupidly, having spent a couple of hours in the studio by now, just listening to some of his tracks and discussing where he wanted to take his music and what he wants to tell through it. You felt woefully under-prepared to even be a passive party in such a technical discussion, but Jisung insisted that talking to you helped him sort out his thoughts and come up with a bunch of ideas on how he might fix that track that has been causing him trouble.

“Thank you, noona.” The sweet boy blushes despite your less than graceful compliment. “I actually thought that maybe I could become a producer if this whole idol thing hadn’t worked out.”

“You’d be an amazing producer! Actually, whatever you would’ve chosen to do, I know you would’ve been amazing at it.” You gush with conviction. Maybe you were biased but you just know that your sunshine boy was talented enough to succeed at whatever his beautiful heart desired.

And through your stormy world, the sun shyly peeks behind the clouds as he smiles at you. Not just any smile, your smile, the one you’ve been aching for all this time, and you can’t help but stare, enraptured by it like a second sun had appeared in the sky.

But before you could soak up the light, it gets eclipsed by the gloom once again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jisung whispers, hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze set on his twiddling fingers, avoiding your own.

“What?” You blink, the remnants of the light scattering from your eyes.

“I thought that maybe you’d miss me like I was missing you… but I guess you were right about me being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You shoot out of your seat and stand over him, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I did! I missed you so much!”

“But you never tried to contact me.” He breathes you in, and for a second, he gets lost in all that you are—your smell, the light in your eyes, the warmth of your hands, all the things that he had missed so dearly. He’s so busy soaking it all up that it startles him when your hands fall from his face to swing limply at your sides, breaking the spell.

“I did try but…”

“But what?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you recall what Minho had said. You don’t deserve him. His words rang in your ears like thunder, feeling truer now than they ever did after what you’ve witnessed today.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, embarrassed to admit the truth. You’ve never been this unsure of yourself. Not because of Minho—he could go fuck himself as far as you were concerned. But this was the first time you’ve been so completely enamored with someone like this. People tend to inflate their lover’s worth and you were no exception; to you, Jisung deserves the best, and you feared that you weren’t that.

Reclaiming your hands, he tugs on them gently, pulling you onto his lap. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Despite the firm grip he has on your hands, his soft glittery eyes give him away. He was begging you to say something that would assuage his pain, to prove to him that you wanted this as much as he did and that the delay had been out of your hands.

You could do that. You could give him that much.

“Minho told me to stay away.” You confess, heart heavy and fearful that the words would be like a wake-up call to him, and he would realize that he deserved better after all. “He said that you deserve someone who could love you as much as you love them and that I’m not that person.”

At the uncharacteristically livid look on Jisung’s face, your anxious mind bungee jumps to conclusions, figuring that he must think that you’re lying to set his best friend up. You don’t even realize that you’ve started crying until you feel Jisung’s fumbling fingers wiping at your cheeks, trying to keep the tears at bay,

“Oh my god, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, noona. I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. I swear I will.” It would be a hard feat to take any death threat from Jisung seriously, but it’s even harder to when panic dilutes any edge his anger may have had. “Wait… is that why he pulled you out of the practice room that one time?”

You nod, pouting childishly as you remember the incident.

“That fucker! He told me that you were just trying to hook up with me and that’s why he stopped you!” He fumes, but yet again, his anger is quickly cut off by doubt and insecurity, “…you didn’t only want to hook up, right?” He asks, unsure.

“No!” You yell, frustrated beyond belief by how unnecessary all this heartache was, all because of his bitch of a friend. “Would I be here in the middle of the night, listening to your dumb songs for hours if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“Hey! My songs aren— wait, you have feelings for me?”

“Do you think I sing A Whole New World with just any random dude?”

He bites his lip and tries to suppress his smile, but that only emphasizes his squirrel teeth, making you curse as you feel your heart leaping in your chest. Fuck, so cute.

You realize that you’ve said that out loud when he blushes and smacks your shoulder playfully, his teeth untangling from his lip to let his smile grow wide and unrestrained. “I want to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “I like you, you dumbass.”

You had hardly finished saying it before you’re pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. “Then forget about what my dumb hyung said.”

“But what if he’s right? What if I can’t love you enough?” You fret, still unsure.

“Impossible. With just one call, you come running here, leaving your cozy bed behind to listen to my dumb songs without even the slightest prospect of getting dicked down? You’re whipped, noona.”

You smack him playfully, and yet you still can’t quite let it go. “What if I hurt you?”

“Isn’t that how all relationships go? Either you stay together or you break up.”

“You’re being super wise right now, it’s disturbing.” You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and smothering him with chaste little kisses.

Impatient, he grabs your face and captures your lips in a real kiss. “You’d be surprised what my brain is capable of when not all my blood is flowing to my boner.”

You throw your head back laughing, finally starting to feel like things are going to be okay for the first time in a long time. “I love you my dumb, wise baby…”

“Oh, and Minho will pay for this.”

Jisung buries his face in your neck, chuckling lightly. “I’m already on it, babe.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Checking your phone, you take note of the time; Ten thirty. That means you had kept them waiting for almost 20 minutes now.

This was all part of Jisung’s plan to make his hyung “atone” for trying to sabotage your relationship—bringing him into your bedroom so you can fuck him up like he almost fucked you guys up, and if that happened to also satisfy his long-held fantasy of getting to see you fuck another guy in front of him... Well that was just the cherry on top for him, or so he claimed.

You knew just how thirsty he was for this, the weeks leading up to tonight filled with a whiny, impatient Jisung pestering you about why he can’t just bring Minho over already and accusing you of prolonging his wait just to torture him. And maybe you did, but it’s nothing he can prove.

Deciding to finally have mercy on him, you give yourself one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place and that the red robe you wore covered your bare body properly before you head out of the bathroom door and step out into your bedroom.

Immediately, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the scene in front of you.

Minho had your boyfriend pinned under him on the bed, both their clothes in a pile on the floor and their dick rubbing against each other as Minho grinded down on him.

Small moans escaped Jisung as he struggled against the hold Minho had on his arms, pinning them against the bed as he devoured the younger boy’s neck. You haven’t even started yet and they were already misbehaving. You had told them clearly to not touch each other while you were getting ready but apparently you should’ve never trusted these two.

Whatever, you’ll teach them to not disobey you again.

Taking your phone out of the robe’s pocket, you open the app that controls the plug you had put inside Jisung’s ass earlier and turn it on, causing the boy to suddenly yelp out and whip his head towards the bathroom door where you stand, freaking out when his eyes land on your unimpressed face.

“I tried to stop him, noona.” He attempts to justify his actions but you shush him, walking further into the room. “Sure, you did, brat. You know, I’m doing this whole thing to satisfy your sick fantasy, right? And yet you can’t even follow one simple instruction, can you?”

You turn the speed up a notch, making Jisung jolt a little in Minho’s grasp. “Ah, fuck, noona! I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You turn it up even higher.

Curious as to what’s happening, Minho pushes off the boy, cocking his head to the side as he takes a second to realize what has suddenly gotten the younger boy so riled up. His suspicions are confirmed when he pulls Jisung’s thighs apart to see the diamond-shaped bottom of the plug glimmering between his cheeks. Pressing on it, he pushes the part that had slipped out because of Jisung’s squirming back in, making the boy gasp and his fingers clutch at the sheet desperately.

“Hmm, cute. So this is what Jisungie has to make do with. How sad.” He sneers, fucking the toy in and out of him a few time before taking it out and throwing it to the ground at your feet. “It must kill you, that you don’t have a real cock to fuck him with, right?”

“But I do have one.” You retort easily, not missing a beat, and he frowns at you in confusion, flinching just a bit when you reach a hand out towards him. But he doesn’t stop you as your hand wraps around his hard dick and gives it a sharp stroke that has him involuntarily thrusting forward in your fist.

“It’s right here. As long as you’re in my bed, every part of you belongs to me.” You drawl, continuing to languidly stroke him. “Even your pretty little dick.”

Taking your hand off his again, you don’t miss the quiet hiss he lets out at the loss of stimulation. “Now fuck him well and don’t you dare disappoint me.” You deadpan, sitting down on the bed in front of them and looking at them expectantly.

Turning to Jisung with misplaced anger, he manhandles the poor boy, flipping him onto his stomach then grabbing him by the hips to push his ass in the air, allowing him to easily line up his dick with your boyfriend’s stretched out hole. He looks you right in the eyes as he orders him, “Beg for it, baby boy. Beg me to ram my cock inside you and fuck you like she can’t.”

Jisung hesitates and you can see the conflict on his face as he contemplates whether to obey Minho and piss you off or not obey him and piss him off. Impatient, Minho lands a harsh smack against the younger’s ass. “Beg or I’m not fucking you.”

Whimpering and already much too excited and desperate, that is enough to make up Jisung’s mind. “Please, fuck me, hyung. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? Why, baby? Does she not fuck you?” Minho goads, pushing just the tip of his dick inside the boy.

“She does, but it’s not the same. Your cock feels so much better, hyung.” Jisung throws his head back, moaning theatrically as Minho bottoms out inside him.

“Good boy.” Minho smirks at you as he puts his hands on Jisung’s slim waist and starts moving him over his length, fucking him slowly.

You roll your eyes at the two boys acting out, thinking they’re actually doing something there. You watch as Minho makes Jisung fuck himself on his dick instead of thrusting into him, moving the younger boy ever so slowly over his cock as he stares you down with an arrogant smile, knowing that you want to see him ruin Jisung, but choosing to tease you instead.

But two can play at this game.

Loosening up the knot that held your robe closed, you slowly pull the fabric apart over your chest until it slides off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and hard nipples to their hungry eyes. You play with them, taking your time as you massage your breasts and lightly run your fingers over your nipples, only allowing the softest moans to slip from your lips, each one riling the boys up more. You smile as Minho unconsciously starts fucking the boy under him while Jisung lets out whimpering little moans, needing you both to stop teasing him.

“Noona, please spread your legs.” Jisung whines, eyes focused on the way your legs were rubbing together because of your own hands on your chest.

“You want me to expose myself to your hyung, baby? Don’t you have any shame? Wanting him to see what any other man would fight to keep to themselves?”

Jisung whines again and reaches out to push your legs apart himself. You act as if he took you by surprise, letting them get a glimpse of your pussy before you snap your legs shut and slap your boyfriend across the face. “You little pervert!”

He draws back and whimpers, pushing his ass against his hyung’s crotch and moaning out wantonly as the movement suddenly pushes Minho’s entire length inside his ass, the tip of it hitting his prostate.

“You want to see my pussy that bad?”

He nods, watching your hand snake between your legs to cover your crotch before you spread them open, your hand inconveniently covering your heat. “You want to show your hyung what you’ve been getting all this time?”

You grind the heel of your hand against yourself, the stimulation crude but arousing nonetheless, and you let out soft little moans.

“Yes, noona, please! I want to show him your pretty pussy.”

You giggle at your boyfriend’s pleas and start pulling your fingers off one by one, until the only thing standing between their hungry eyes and your glistening pussy is your middle finger that was still placed over your slit.

“But I don’t know if I he deserves to see.” You pout sadly, continuing to tease them, rubbing your finger up and down your slit, which proves to be too much for Minho who finally snaps. “For fuck’s sake, just show us your pussy!”

“Ah, hyung—” Jisung attempts to warn him but it’s too late, you clamp your legs shut and tie your robe back up. “I see where Jisung gets his brattiness from. That’s too bad. I was going to let you eat me out.”

Tauntingly, you brandish your soaked fingers in their faces, making a show of rubbing them together then pulling them apart so they’d see the thick strings of arousal that stretch between them.

Jisung cries out, pleading you for a taste, and you even see Minho lick his lips in anticipation. So you reach your hand towards him as if you’re going to let him have a taste, but just as he opens his mouth to take your fingers in, you drop your hand and wipe your fingers on the sheets.

“Bitch.”

“Oh honey,” You lean up close to his face, your words dripping condescension. “You’re the only little bitch here, and I’ll prove it to you soon enough.”

You can see that the threat gets to him as he stops fucking Jisung to warily watch as you get off the bed to retrieve the box you had prepared beforehand.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep fucking him.”

But he can’t and his eyes remain on you as you get the box and settle back down on the bed, this time behind him. Craning his head back, he sees you taking out a bottle of lube and slathering some of it on your middle finger.

“What are you going to do?” He turns back towards you with panic in his eyes.

“What do you think? I’m going to finger you open so I can fuck your pretty ass.”

“What? You’re g-gonna fuck me? But I thought…”

“You thought what, that you’d be the one fucking me?” You sneer, making him flush with embarrassment and stare back ahead to avoid your sharp gaze, but you grab him by the jaw and force him to face you again. “You think I’d let your pathetic little cock anywhere near my pussy?”

Taking one of his hands in yours, you guide it between your legs, and he gasps out as he feels your wetness. “Did you really think you deserve to fuck this pussy?” You condescend, pushing his fingers inside you and letting him feel your tight heat around him.

“N-no.” He whimpers, fingers twitching as he tries to hold himself back from moving them.

“No.” You confirm, ripping his hand away from you.

As you push him down on top of Jisung and line your finger with his entrance--ignoring the way your boyfriend glares back at you for squishing him under the older boy--Minho squeaks out, “Wait!”

“What now, brat?”

“I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“What?” For the first time, you panic, and practically jump back.

“I’ve fingered myself before!” He quickly adds in when he sees the worry in your eyes, “I just have never been…uh… you know.”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah.” He stares dead ahead once again, too embarrassed to look at you.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it then that’s fine. You and Jisung could just keep fucking and we’ll end it at that.” You say, trying to convey to him that he completely had a choice in this and you would never do something he was uncomfortable with. Yes, this was his “punishment” and you weren’t exactly happy with what he had tried to do to you and Jisung, but you would never force anything on him.

“No, I want to try.” He mumbles quietly.

“What?” You prod, having heard what he said but needing him to say it loud and clear, not just to confirm that he was okay with this but because it was so sexy watching the hyper-bratty boy acting so shy. “If you don’t speak up and say what you want clearly, I won’t give it to you.”

His head snaps back towards you, scared you’d follow through on your threat, and he was way too horny to stop now. “I want it.”

Smirking, you press your lubed up finger to his hole, not pushing it in yet but just rubbing against it. “What do you want?”

“You know what.” He grunts, hips tensing with the effort to not push back against your finger.

“Jisung baby, is this how a good boy asks for something?”

“No. Good boys beg for treats.” Jisung’s voice was strained with need as he wiggles his hips, his dripping dick pressed against his abdomen and the sheets as Minho’s weight lies on top of him, but doesn’t try to rush the both of you, understanding that this is a sensitive moment.

“You heard him, kitten. Beg.”

You can tell from the way his jaw clenches that he wouldn’t give in even before the insolent words come out of his mouth. “Fuck you.”

You smile menacingly, “Gladly.”

You push your finger inside of him, not too suddenly so as not to hurt him but quick enough to make him ache. “Just wait until I’m done with you. I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Minho grunts in disapproval at your words but he doesn’t protest as your finger starts exploring his tight ass, rubbing inside him in tight little circles, searching for the spot that would have him keening.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked before. With the way you act, I would’ve guessed that someone would’ve already gotten sick of your shit and fucked you straight. God knows it’s all I could think about whenever I hear you run your bratty little mouth.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. This doesn’t even feel go–oh!” He tried to shoot you down but he embarrassingly fails when he feels your finger brush against his prostate, quickly silencing his retort.

“Shhh… that’s a good boy.” You jeer, pressing a firm hand to the small of his back to keep him in place as you start pumping your fingers, not wanting him to get ahead of himself. You can practically feel his body humming underneath you.

It doesn’t take him long to ask for more. “Fuck, go faster.”

“What’s the magic words, princess?” You mock.

“I ha-ate you.” He stutters, making you laugh. “I hate you too, darling, but those are not quite the words I’m looking for.”

When your finger is easily thrusting in and out of him, you pull it out to squirt more lube onto it, covering your index finger along with it too then pushing them both inside of him, smirking at the way he braces himself against the stretch and knowing that he’ll be feeling good again in no time.

And sure enough, he’s soon mewling and squirming in your grasp as he unconsciously fucks the boy underneath him, his hips thrusting down with each push of your fingers against his prostate. Jisung was whimpering under him, enjoying the erratic way Minho was drilling into him was making his own dick grind against the sheets.

“That good, huh?” You drawl at the two boys.

“So good.” Jisung whimpers, but Minho still can’t get himself to give in.

“Shut up—AH!” He throws his head back, moaning out.

“I think he’s gonna cum soon, noona.” Jisung warns you, “I can feel him twitching inside me.”

“Oh no, he won’t.” You declare, pulling him up so his dick slips out of Jisung, both of them crying out in frustration, but Minho’s whining was significantly louder, not used to your teasing the way Jisung was. You smirk as you force him to sit back on his heels and wrap a hand tightly around the base of his cock to staunch his release. He was so close to breaking now.

“Grab the cockring from the box, baby.” You tell Jisung, and Minho kicks up a fuss as the younger boy slips out from under him, struggling in your arms. “No, no, I don’t want it!”

You exchange an amused look with Jisung as he hands you the cockring. “He really thinks he gets to have a say in this. What a silly kitten.” You laugh, putting the ring on him anyway. “There, now it’ll be much harder for the little kitty to misbehave.”

You push him back on his hands and knees, ordering Jisung to get the strap and put it on you. He excitedly obeys, buckling it up for you and even putting lubing it up, impatient to finally see you fucking his hyung.

“Good boy.” You cup his face and give him a sweet kiss, then, in a hushed voice so Minho wouldn’t hear, you ask, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Right away, Jisung smiles and nods, kissing you once again and letting out a muffled “yes” against your lips before he excitedly pulls back in order to watch.

Turning your attention back to Minho, you make sure he’s alright too. “I’m going in, kitten, okay?”

“Do it.” He grits, this time unable to hold back the slight way his ass pushes back against you.

Assured that they’re both completely on board with this, you get back into character. Lining the strap-on with his ass, you start pushing the fake dick into him slowly. He whimpers with each inch of it that slides into him and when it’s all the way in, he lets out a long sigh. You remain still for a while as he adjusts, and then for a little while longer just to see him squirm and try to get you to start fucking him.

“You’re so stubborn, kitten, but your body betrays you.” You tease, finally moving your hips. Minho moans quietly as your cock drives into him, bashful little noises he can’t control as his pleasure easily builds up again because of your prolonged teasing.

Shuffling up the bed so he’s kneeling in front of Minho, Jisung hooks a finger under the older boy’s chin to lift his face up towards him. He clearly likes what he sees on his hyung’s face because he bites his lip and his other hand slithers down his body to tug at his own cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, hyung?” Jisung asks, but it seems like he wasn’t interested in getting an answer because as soon as his hyung opens his mouth to speak, Jisung pushes his thumb inside and presses down on his tongue.

You don’t fail to notice the hungry way Jisung was regarding Minho as he struggles to mouth his words despite the obstruction. You knew what your boy wanted, and he was long overdue to get his reward anyway.

“Go ahead, baby, use his mouth.” You inform Jisung and grab onto Minho’s hair to keep his head up and his mouth level with Jisung’s cock. “Since he interrupted you so rudely earlier.”

“Thank you, noona!” Jisung gushes, paying no thanks to the person who is actually going to have his dick in his mouth because at this point--just like you had told him earlier--Minho was just a toy for you to play with your boyfriend with. As long as he was in your bed, his body was yours to do with as you please, and right now it pleases you to see him choking on Jisung’s dick.

But Minho still resists, and when Jisung presses the head of his dick against his mouth, he refuses to let him in. Unfortunately for him, Jisung was too wound up to entertain his defiance, and he promptly grips his hyung’s jaw and digs his fingers into his cheeks, pucking his lips open and shoving his length between them and into down his throat.

A loud moan tears out of his own throat when he feels Minho choke around his length, but his pleasure is marred by guilt and he forces himself to pull out in order to allow Minho to breathe. You don’t let him though, quickly stepping in and using the grip you had on Minho’s hair to push his head back down Jisung’s cock because, unlike Jisung, you don’t feel sorry for the older male at all. You hold him like that for a couple of seconds as he struggles to breathe through his nose that was nestled in Jisung’s crotch.

“Don’t be nice to him, Sungie. He tried to break us apart. Use him however you want.” You grunted, finally let Minho go.

Mercifully, Jisung gives him a few seconds to clear his throat, coughing and spluttering violently, before he replaces your grip with his own and pushes his length back inside his hyung’s mouth.

The sight of Jisung holding Minho by his hair and fucking his mouth like that reminds you of the time he did the same thing to you, holding you down with his cock sheathed down your throat. You had to admit--seeing it happen in front of you--you get why it turned him on so much back then, and the lewd sounds of Minho gagging and slurping around Jisung’s cock only works you up further.

Picking up the pace, you try to match your thrusts with Jisung’s, the both of you brutally fucking the poor boy whose moans get louder and garbled like he’s trying to tell you something. Too far gone in ecstasy, Jisung doesn’t notice but you do. You push Jisung back a bit, making him whine as you stop his abuse of the other boy’s throat so you can ask him what he wants.

“I want to cum.” He splutters hoarsely, drool falling down to the sheets as he coughs.

“Still not how you ask. Do you want to try again?” You wait for him to beg, but he still resists. “No? Alright. Jisungie, do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes, please, let me, noona!” It’s easy for you to make Jisung beg, yet you still look at him with adoration and pride every time he does it.

“Okay, but I want you to do it on your hyung’s face. Want you to cover his pretty face with your cum. Can you do that for me, love?”

“Fuck, yes, noona.” Jisung bites down harshly on his lip, his hand immedietly going to his dick and pumping it furiously as he watches you continue to fuck Minho.

“I think he wants it, noona. His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth.” Jisung teases the older boy whose face was mere face inches from his red and swollen dick. “Ready, hyung?”

When Jisung cums, it lands all over Minho’s face, covering him with his sticky seed and joining his drool to drip down onto the mattress. With a final grunt, the last spurt of cum lands on Minho’s cheek. Reaching out a hand, Jisung smears his cum all over Minho face, watching with ecstasy-laden eyes as his hyung shudders with need under his fingertips.

“I can’t—shit… please, please, please, ah, don’t stop, p-please, god… cum-ah...” Minho blabs, barely coherent as the need seizes his brain and pushes out every last bit of pride. He had finally broken.

Satisfied, you pull Minho up into a sitting position and give Jisung the go ahead. He quickly grips Minho’s cock and jerks him off in much the same way he did his own cock seconds earlier.

“Come on, hyung, cum for us now.” Jisung coos at him, but Minho doesn’t give in yet, scared that this was a trick somehow. Turning his head to look back at you, he looks to be on the verge of crying. “Please.”

Wow, you had really done him in.

Chuckling, you reassure him that he can cum. “Don’t worry, kitten. You can cum. You’ve done such a good job so go ahead, baby. Cum.”

Giving him the final push he needs, Minho lets the powerful orgasm Jisung’s hand and your strap-on give him, letting out loud sobs as he shakes and clutches onto Jisung’s shoulders, his cum painting your boyfriend’s stomach white and dripping down to his cock.

When you pull away to take off the strap-on, Minho slumps down into Jisung’s arms, the younger boy holding him in his embrace and awkwardly running his hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe his overwhelmed hyung despite him not having any experience in the aftercare department.

“There, there.” Jisung’s wide eyes stare at you, silently asking you for help, and you could almost laugh at the sheer panic you see in them.

Although you still weren’t one-hundred percent over what Minho had done to you in the past, it only takes a moment of seeing the shivering mess that had become of him for your instincts to kick in and compel you to take care of him.

Wanting to help the both of them out--your boyfriend who looked like a teenager holding a newborn baby like he’s afraid he’d break him, and Minho who might as well have been born again for how new the experience was to him-- you quickly put the toys aside and go back to the boys.

Pressing a hand to Minho’s back, you caress his skin softly and whisper to him, “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did good. You’re such a good kitten.” You trail your hand up to push his hair out of his face so you can look him in the eye and convey your sincerity to him.

You hear a small huff, but it hadn’t come from Minho. You look up at your boyfriend to see him frowning at you, his eyes narrowed and his expression all but asking you what the hell you were doing.

You shoot him a sharp look that tell him to behave then you turn back towards the older boy in his arms. “Think you can handle a shower right now, kitten?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in Jisung’s neck and letting out a muffled whine, “Don’t wanna.”

“What a baby.” Jisung snorts under his breath and it takes everything in you not to grab him and give him a good spanking for acting so selfish and thoughtless.

You give him another sharp looks that has him cowering, and try to keep the edge out of your voice as you talk to Minho. “That’s okay, I’ll just go grab a towel to clean you up. Sungie, stay with him until I come back.”

“But, I--” Jisung starts protesting, a severe pout scrunching up his face at having to take care of his hyung when he’s usually the one being taken care of.

“No buts, don’t be selfish now.”

“Humph!”

“Be good now and I’ll reward you later.” You sigh and go to kiss the top of his head, thinking that it’ll end at that.

But as you get up to get the towels, Jisung follows you anyway, peeling his hyung’s fingers off of him and leaving him curled up on the bed alone.

“What did I say?” You grit, not feeling up to taking care of both your pouty boyfriend and his needy hyung. He’s the one who wanted this so bad in the first place, the least he could do is help you.

“Why are you being so nice to hyung?”

“It’s called aftercare, Jisung. This was his first time getting pegged, he needs the support or he could go into subdrop.” You explain patiently, but Jisung didn’t look like he was interested in listening.

“What about me?” He whines insolently, backing you up against the counter, one of his hands going between your legs. “You’re my girlfriend, not his.”

You shiver as you feel his fingers teasing your slit, reminding you of how you’re the only one who didn’t get to cum. “And you’re my big boy. I know you can handle not being the center of attention for one night. You hyung needs me more than you do.”

“He didn’t even make you cum.” He scoffs.

“I’ve got you for that, angel.” You moan as he flicks your clit and you pull him into a hungry kiss.

“You’re mine, noona.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls you up onto the counter-top, wedging himself between your legs. You don’t get the chance to ask him to fuck you before he’s already sliding into your wet heat. How is he hard again so fast? “Not his. Mine.”

You sigh, grabbing onto his ass and directing his thrusts, setting a fast pace in order to cum fast so you wouldn’t leave Minho alone for too long. “I should’ve known you’d act like this. You’re too jealous for something like this. I shouldn’t have humored you.”

“Sex is just sex, but this is different. I don’t like seeing you fussing over him like this. I don’t wanna share you, noona.”

“You’re not sharing me.” You kiss your way up his neck and along his jawline. When you reach his lips, you pull back ever so slightly so your noses are still touching. “Look at me, baby. I’m yours only.”

His hips stutter at your words and he moans helplessly. “Fuck, say that again.”

You smile in amusement at how much that affects him. Putting your lips next to his ear, you drawl, “I’m yours, Sungie.”

“And I’m yours, noona.” He professes, sticking his hand between you to rub you off quickly so you’d cum together. Your thighs shake as your orgasm rushes through you, and the way you clench around him pushes him over the edge too, his cock filling you up with his cum and his sweet moans bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

You lay quietly in each other’s arms for a minute, the sound of your panting gradually tapering off until everything is silent.

“He’s sleeping on the couch, right?” Jisung disturbs the silence with his sullen question.

“Sungie…”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m sleeping in the middle.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: Can you tell I gave up on it? anyway this is the final part so there will be no more parts of this. I loved this series but I’m done with it lol. Anyway let me know what you think of the final chapter. did it live up to your expectations or would you rather I never posted it? skskskks

#jisung smut #minho smut #jisung scenarios #jisung fanfics #jisung imagines #minho scenarios #minho imagines #minho fanfics #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfics #stray kids imagines

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lloftvlly · 4 years

Text

something i never really talk about but felt like ranting about right now.

hi, i’m may, i stan fictional villains, and i have a shitty autoimmune disease.

i don’t make a big deal of it because i don’t think it’s defining who i am but i won’t pretend it’s not a huge part of my life.

just a little backstory. my disease started to kick in in my teens. it started very slowly and snuck up on me. the first time i noticed something was off, was when my right knee started hurting. back then i didn’t think of it as much though, just maybe i was getting hurt at the concert i was at a a few days prior (it was good charlotte, my friend is a huge fan and dragged me to their live it wasn’t bad but lol). it started to bother me when the pain in the knee didn’t go away after i kept applying some cooling gels and whatnot and my knee kept swelling up. my cousin, who’s a doctor got me some cortisone cream too and it helped a bit but you can’t use this for long. so as soon as i quit using it the pain was back just as bad, if not worse.

i started seeing doctors and they were just confused. i got my knee punctured and liquids drained by doctor 5 times. (long-ass needle goes under your kneecap and liquid gets pulled out) this procedure hurts like shit but it always gave me a little relief for a few days. but after that it still got progressively worse. it started to also affect my left knee and my right wrist and eventually my lower back. and at this point i was taking a lot of pain meds to at least be able to have pain-free days. in the mornings i couldn’t get out of bed, i couldn’t walk. i had to always take pain meds in bed, wait until they kick in, then force myself to get out of bed and try to walk. always stiff, always having to keep my legs moving if i don’t want them to turn stiff like rocks again... my knees were too weak to keep me on my legs for long so whenever i was in situations i had to stand a lot, i would threaten them cos i would have to find something to lean on and that wasn’t always an option. shitty fucking situation.

i kept seeing doctors who were not sure what it was. idk how many times i left a doctor office and then had a mental breakdown, crying cos no one could tell me what’s wrong and i just wanted it to be taken care of. like lit felt like i was left so alone with my pain and no one did anything to help me with it. i even felt like i wasn’t taken serious enough. one doctor even made some comments that it might all just be in my brain. because i am also diagnosed with GAD and clinical depression he was like “this could be part of that.” such bullshit. sometimes doctors don’t take you serious for having mental illnesses is what i learned from that.

anyway, things were looking up a little after that.

about 7 years into living with pain i was finally getting a diagnosis. all this time it had been psoriasis arthritis, an autoimmune illness that attacks my joints. the reason why it took doctors this long is because this condition rarely ever comes without the skin condition psoriasis. i didn’t show it on my skin, and even my blood tests seemed to not show the results doctors needed to diagnose it. the only reason doctors did find out, was because i had googled my symptoms a lot and i brought up the idea to my doctor that this would be it. plus my grandpa and my aunt have the same disease and it’s something genetic. honestly without me telling the docs i think i have psa i think i wouldn’t have a diagnosis even now.

idk what changed on the day i got my diagnosis and why it suddenly showed in my blood tests also. but i was relieved to say the least, knowing what was rly going on with my body. but the thing is, i lived 7 years undiagnosed with it and now have to live with the consequences of that time: these being, i was always walking cautiously because of the pain in my knees, it ended up in me now having a crooked walk, i can’t stretch out my legs completely anymore, neither bend them completely. it’s now just something i have to live with, that i won’t prolly never walk normally again. i’ve ruined my posture thru that, and now have chronic back pains caused by it and i get lots of migraines that result from the back (idk how it works i aint a doctor)

now i am on strong medication called mtx, it’s kind of a med that many ppl are critical of, because of its strong side effects and it not being rly good to the body. i have my blood checked all 6 weeks cos i gotta make sure they don’t slowly kill me lol. but for me this med is rly saving my life like holy shit. i do physical rehab in a program whenever i can, i stayed there for weeks before and it was kind of nice. the issue with my medication, however, is that i have to pause them whenever i even have as much as a small cold. since they suppress my immune system or whatever, i can’t take them when i am sick or i won’t ever have a immune system to get me back to becoming healthy again or some sciency shit idk lol.

either way that brings me to now. i had a fever not long ago and had to pause my meds again. mtx stays in the body for like 2 weeks or so, if you pause any longer than that, your body is set back to the state it was before you started therapy on this medication and mtx takes up to ten weeks to even take effect. meaning, when i pause it, i am set back to before i started the medication and have to wait at least 6 weeks for them to kick back in and make the pain slowly go away again. now, currently i am in one of those in between times before the meds work again. i am in quite a lot of pain, i can barely get out of bed. not only do both my knees rly hurt but so does my back. and i am like /: well that sucks.

it’s hard to focus when you’re in pain. as i am right now. i try really hard to focus on anything other than that but no matter what i do, my mind’s always going back to the pains in my back and knees, my wrists feel surprisingly fine and thank fuck cos i need them to write lol. point being, my focus is gone. i wanna write, i wanna create, i wanna draw but it’s rly hard man. i feel whiny and like overly dramatic... nothing should keep me from writing, realistically. look, i mean, i just typed out this wholeass essay. i honestly think i am blocking myself. i’m like ‘woe is me.. i have some pain’ and somehow almost use this as an excuse, i guess, to be a lazy pos.

someone gotta tell me “stop being a bitch and get to work” so if you read this and if you would lol. just don’t pls, for the lov of king shiggy , don’t feel bad for me or say anything to pity me. that’s not what i want /at all/. i’m a badass for living with this pain, lemme feel like one at least lol. if you can sympathize that’s nice but i didn’t write this to make anyone feel bad for me i promise. i don’t feel bad for myself either, i honestly think i am lucky in many ways that i get to live in a country with free health care, get to work from home, get to be a lazy pos when i am in this type of situation without having to worry about anything rly.

i’m also writing this rant to kind of push myself. get out of this stupid slump DO SOMETHING.

anyway, that’s all.

also: if anyone got stories to share about their own experiences and they want me to hear it, please do. ithink we all have things we struggle with.

#personal #shut up may

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2idiots · 4 years

Text

Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8a

word count: 1,667ish

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

warnings: not really any, kind angsty, more than just mentions of chronic pain

(I don't know how but the second paragraph got deleted when I first uploaded. I have since added it in. So if you see something new that's why)

---

Getting Johnny from outside the building to inside your room was a lot more difficult than you expected. This was partially because your best friend was much drunker than his texts suggested and partially because each step was sending a pain reverberating down your legs and up your abdomen. A pain that you knew the mild over-the-counter pain meds would do little to numb but you had taken them with false hope anyway. Before your best friend had forced you into letting his drunkass in you were curled into your bed with a heating pad pressed into your abdomen, hoping eventually exhaustion would win over excruciating pain.

This was the real reason you bolted out of Jet Lag the minute your friends were off in different directions distracted. The pain had triggered before Mark's open mic night started but you were not about to miss the night you friend had been talking about for weeks. This was so important to him and you had to be there. So you sucked it up and promised yourself to duck out the moment it was clear and Mark had performed. Woo noticing and staying over for a few hours was just a welcomed surprise. And the leftover baked goods he brought were another plus side, not that you had any appetite. At least your blubbering fool of a friend would benefit from the pile of pastries sitting on your desk, if you could make it past the giggling desk attendant.

The first time you walked passed her with bleary eyes, focused on only the task ahead she called out something about the “cute Oppa” at the door. Immediately a gag raced up your throat at that, Johnny? A cute Oppa? Gross. He was like your brother, actually more like your overprotective mother. Sure you joked about Johnny being a daddy, but it was all shits and giggles to make him mad with Mark. He wasn't actually one. The second time she made some sort of pass at him that you blocked out and stifled another gag. You didn’t need to see or hear that child making passes at your best friend.

That wasn’t the only thing she was giggling at though. You and Johnny were quite the sight. He was a stumbling, stuttering fool and you were wearing pajamas that had been picked out in the dark, not even your shoes matched. These were things you had thrown on when Johnny begged you to let him in but your headache was pounding too much to turn the lights on, which was also the reason for the sunglasses.

Speaking of Big Foot, he was using you almost completely as a support and he weighed a lot more than his bony ass looked. How he managed to make it to your building from 7th Sense was beyond you, he could barely make it three steps without giggling and sliding around. Honestly this made you more than a little nervous for Mark, usually he was the giggly one after a few drinks. If Johnny was this drunk, then Mark could very well be dead.

Overall the hardest obstacle for Johnny to maneuver around was your actual room. He tripped over everything. Maybe it was his long spindly legs combined with the alcohol, but he even fell just trying to walk over your rug. You had to catch him before he face planted. Of course he just contiuned blabbering about the night and how well it went the whole time, even while laughing at his clumsiness. “Then Mark fell! Kinda like how he is falling for sunflower boy but like fell… on the actual ground… like how I just almost fell!” To which you just nodded, handing him a pastry and an ice cold water bottle. “And Jae was so funny, he was talking about the basketball team and one of their parties last week where someone drank beer from a ball that had been cut in half. Isn’t that gross?”

“Yeah babe, real gross,” You nodded, trying to push him toward your bed. You might not have been asleep before he messaged but you were still in bed ready to sleep and you wanted to be back there. “Can you get in bed, Jojo? I'll tired.”

Following your direction like a lost lamb, Johnny swiftly removed all his out layers and climbed into your bed continuing to talk about the basketball team and how pretty and funny they were, all the while giving you very pointed looks. Or at least he was prattling on until he went completely silent and tense before screeching, “THERE’S SOMETHING WARM!”

Arms crossed and irritation pulsed through you at the scream, you leaned over to pull the heating pad out from under him and wiggled it around in your outstretched hand, “Johnny you’ve met HP before, HP meet Big Foot.”

“HP? You named your heating pad?” He questioned already snuggling back into your sheets like he owned the bed. This happened every time he was over, sober or drunk it didn’t matter; Johnny took up every blanket and pillow in your entire bed: partially because his size, mostly because he was an asshole. One of the many reasons you were hesitant to let him stay over anymore, even though you always ended up letting him stay.

“Might as well, he’s in my bed so often,” You grinned before grabbing another water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner of the room and tossing it his direction. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, drunk Johnny, you did know that he would wake up in three hours whining about a dry mouth and you didn't want to deal with it.

“I mean he wasn’t on Halloween.” Luckily you flipped the lights off before you could see his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Here was the worst part, talkative drunk Johnny taking an interest in your life and trying to lay down his tips on life.

Grabbing an extra blanket for yourself you slid in next to him and laughed that thought off, “Actually HP was, ALSO I thought we agreed to not talk about Halloween, leave the past behind us and all.”

“Behind us? Is that how you like it y/n?” He let out a slight whimper when you turned over enough to give him a solid kick to the shin. This alcohol was giving him far more confidence than normal and you didn’t like it. Throwing his hands up, Johnny tossed out a worthless apology and whined, “I deserved that ok. But you know I wouldn’t call it the past, don’t you tutor the dude?”

That elicited a quiet response from you, a simple, “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it like two or three times a week?” He didn’t stop his incessant babbling long enough for you to answer, adding on, “You’re quite popular, my friends keep asking about you too.” Then a switch suddenly flipped in Johnny’s mind, evident by how he practically climbed over you to switch the lamp back on and give you his best mom glare, “Wait, you’re sleeping with HP?” You let out a few weak protests as the light flooded your room and his bony ass arm squished you down into the bed digging into your side. Drunk friends sucked. Too bad you loved them too much to leave them on the street. “So you’re in pain? You’re in pain and you didn’t say anything? You just went home alone and lied to Mark and me?”

“Johnny I always sleep with a heating pad and I’m always in pain. It's not a big deal.” Tonight just happened to be bad, still was, but you left that part out. “Also Jungwoo just left; I wasn’t alone.” That was accompanied by a successful effort to push him off so you could flip the light off again and snuggle into the heating pad again. “Now go to sleep, I'm tired.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you heard sniffling and an occadsional shuffle.

“Are you crying?” You asked incredulously, flipping over to see him hastily wiping away his tears in the ambient light filtering in through the window. Sure enough, your bitch-ass best friend was laying on the other side of the bed using his white undershirt to wipe his tears away. At least he was smart enough not to use your sheets as the tissue. “Stop crying.” This was new. Your friends probably knew way too much about how hard your days were getting, in fact Johnny had driven you to the ER one too many times over the past year and a half, but they had never cried in front of you. At least not about you.

You hated it.

His immediate response was denial, no he wasn’t crying. These weren’t tears, they were allergies. "Leaks in my face." But you still heard him mutter a muted “I just want you to be happy and not in pain” as the alcohol running through his system finally knocked him out.

You were struck silent, not sure how to respond. Sure he was your closest friend and that meant he had to like you, but this affection made breathing a little hard: your chest not quite expanding like it should. You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek as you turned to face the other side of the room, an effort to get away. This was exactly why you didn't tell them about tonight, you didn't want them burdened with your pain. They should have to suffer just because you were.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you blindly reached out for where you set your phone on the bedside table. You still may not be able to sleep but you could get some reading done and maybe forget the sound of Johnny's tears. And maybe, just maybe, the words would lull you into some dreamlike state so you could rest. It was only a few minutes into reading that a text interrupted the chapter.

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I've decided updates will be Thursday at 6pm. I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus

#nct imagines #nct social media au #nct xuxi #lucas nct #lucas nct imagines #wayv yukhei #wayv imagines #wayv social media au #wayv x reader #wong yukhei #yukhei imagines #yukhei x reader

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ravenbloodau · 4 years

Text

The Voyages Of Ker'Tak and Skye Episode 2: Departure

Now, Ker'Tak and Skye had gotten along for quite awhile. Not six months ago had Ker'Tak's ship arrived on Earth, and not six months ago had the Human Skye befriended Ker'Tak in a rather peculiar way.

On instinct, they got along. In logic, that wasn't always the case.

"Ker'Tak, I honestly don't get it! Why can't they talk to one another and get it over with?" Human Skye asked during her training with her new phaser.

"Stay focused!" Ker'Tak called, "If you do not pass this exam, they will not allow you on the Starship."

"I am focused!" Skye called back as she shot down the rest of the targets. Her accuracy was lethal, "I just want to understand what makes this conflict tick."

"Very good," Ker'Tak complimented Skye, who was more impatient than ever, "This conflict is especially important because of the prey-predator relationship between the two species. One greatly fears the other, while the other wishes strict dominance and is bargaining for a one-sided agreement."

"So prey can't stand up to predator, predator wants to take advantage of that fear?" Skye asked as she holstered her phaser.

"Precisely," Ker'Tak nodded as she approached them.

"Ah, you see that makes more sense," Skye nodded as she registered her weapon and her personelle code into the computer.

Ker'Tak nodded as they made their way to the medbay, where each Skye was being taught medicine under Ker'Tak.

They had watched her take to the practice quiet easily, memorizing and practicing diagnoses, learning symptoms, performing low-risk surgeries, learning anatomy and biological factors.

Ker'Tak was rather proud of bringing this youngling into the feild of medical sciences.

Skye was quietly taking on one of the greatest mysterious illnesses of the Universe, one that plagued the Si'Nain's.

"Ker'Tak," A week seemed to fly by, "Ker'Tak come look at this," Skye was inviting them over to look into a petri dish she had grown for the week.

"Is this what you've been working on?" Ker'Tak peered over their student's shoulder.

"Yep, it looks more like a bacterial infection rather than a virus as you suspected. The rate of reproduction and the number of colonies suggests it's airborne. It's possible to take care of it with a few antibiotics, but which kind would be most effective?" Skye started theorizing.

"Erm, Human Skye?" Ker'Tak got her attention just as she got up to pace, "If we've been treating this as a viral infection, it's possible humans may be at risk to catch this. We've been administering a vaccine for it."

Skye looked over and shrugged.

"Actually, I had the shot, turns out that it's one of our kinds stomach flora, very rarely can it hurt us, so we'll feel little affect, and as soon as I can draw up an antibacterial that won't hurt Si'Nains, I daresay it'll hardly be a problem anymore," Skye chuckled as she continued to pace, "In fact, with your antivirals, and our antibacterials, we may have found the solution to 85% of illnesses within the Universe, at least for the time being."

Ker'Tak nodded, "You never seem to focus on the details, everything is in a bigger picture. You humans perplex me.."

Skye looked up.

"Well, yea. If I were constantly focused on the details, I might miss what the bigger picture might have to show me, or what I could learn from other peices of the picture," Skye explained, "It's better to have a balance. To see the bigger picture and to focus on the details, but never selecting one in complete priority over the other."

Ker'Tak nodded, understandably a bit baffled by Skye's untimely wisdom. After all, she was 17 Earth years. Yet still oddly wise for her age, even in comparison to Ker'Tak. Although approximately 457 Earth Years old, Ker'Tak was the equivalent of a teenager in Si'Nain society.

The two left the lab, talking rather excitedly too, about possible cures, human medicine, Si'Nain cures, life cycles, wise "crack" wisdom.

They passed by other human volunteers, and in an instant Skye would say Hello, then return to her present conversation with Ker'Tak.

Ker'Tak happily listened to her ramble about the endless possibilities of the medical feild, now armed with knowledge that was far beyond her species' own.

"I mean, we could cure cancer! Stop HIV, end most chronic illnesses! Cure allergies!" Skye laughed heartily, "It's an open ocean of possibility Ker'Tak!"

Skye's laughter pinged in Ker'Tak's mind as a happy thing, loud and full.

"So, Human Skye, we disembark from Earth in approximately two Earth days, have you packed all your things?" Ker'Tak changed topics as this moving away from home was weighing on Skye's mind.

"Yep! Everything's already in my new quarters! The Captain said it was surprising how fast I was ready to move out. Honestly I need a change in scenery anyways!" Skye chirped rather cheerful.

Ker'Tak nodded mindfully waiting as Skye jumped ahead. A unique trait in humans was the oddly boundless impatience. Ker'Tak would have to add that to the manual.

She was relentlessly helpful, and open with the crew. Some found her honesty quite alarming, but Skye's endless innocent gaze got them to follow suit.

The departure from Earth was bittersweet for Skye.

"This opens up a new chapter in my life, Ker'Tak. Ooooh! I can't wait to see the stars up close!" Skye's excitement reflected in her squeal-speak.

Ker'Tak chuckled at the enthusiasm. Skye had spirit they had never seen before, they could admit that.

It took 3 months to sort 95% of human issues in space out, and outside of the rough introduction to life star-side, Skye was getting the hang of things.

She soon surpassed Ker'Tak in knowledge and ability, but refused a rank higher than theirs at every offer.

"I may be smart, but I still have plenty to learn from Ker'Tak! Plus, they're a great teacher, and much wiser than I am!" Skye would use the same excuses, even if most of them were no longer true.

So why does she stay? Ker'Tak found themselves pondering, She can't be that naive, can she? I told her everything about the High Council, and she's in her prime to rise to the top of the Council.

"Ker'Tak?" Skye's voice came over the comm. She sounded scared, almost in some kind of pain, "Could you come to my quarters please?"

"On my way," Ker'Tak responded strictly, walking down the halls of the ship post-haste.

They arrived to an open door, and a pained groaning coming from within. The lights above flickered, and torn fabric was strewn about.

"Human Skye?" Ker'Tak called upon entry into the dark room.

"Ker'Tak?" Skye's voice weakly drifted from her bed chamber, "Help.."

Ker'Tak hurried into the room, seeing Skye holding her arm, and tears running down her cheeks as another man stood in front of her.

Ker'Tak called for security.

"YOU BITCH! YOU SAID HE WOULDN'T CALL!" The man hit Skye with a blade, angry and hateful thoughts filled his mind.

This wild rage towards the wounded Skye insulted Ker'Tak. They watched as the man knocked Skye out, and as this stranger turned towards Ker'Tak.

"YOU BASTARD!" The man was clearly drunken, but Ker'Tak paid no mind to this fact. In fact, they felt an inexplicable need to protect young Skye. Ker'Tak felt...Close to her, in some way, as a friend. They had felt this pack bond to her grow stronger over the past nine months, as they had to come to know her on a personal level one would save for family, lovers, even, in Si'Nain society.

Skye was like Ker'Tak's little sister at this point.

Ker'Tak drew up his personal defensive weapon (PDW), and readied themselves for the man's attack.

The man swung low, striking Ker'Tak along his abdomen with the blade. Ker'Tak opened fire and stunned the man.

The thud of the man's body called attention to the room.

Ker'Tak carefully took up the unconscious Skye in their arms, muttering to themselves on how naive Skye had been to trust an inebriated man like that.

She shuddered in their arms as security came and took the man to a holding cell for the evening.

"Skye, you've got to stop being so-" Ker'Tak stopped talking. Something heavy was on Skye's mind, they could feel it in their sudden change in pitch.

"Please, just..Take me to the medbay," She whimpered. Ker'Tak felt their face go hot, enraged now.

The human concept of revenge is far from what Ker'Tak would call their next set of actions.

The Captain stared down the Doctor.

"You could have slaughtered that man," The Captian started harshly, "Doctor Ker'Tak, tell me what provoked such violent transgression against Human Gabriel."

Ker'Tak stood at attention. They weren't sure how to word this. So they reported the incident before the further harm of Gabriel.

The Captain perked up in interest upon learning of Gabriel's transgressions against Skye and Ker'Tak. The Captain sighed and nodded.

"I understand. Ker'Tak, you cannot take justice like that into your own hands. You are a Doctor, and although you have every right to defend yourself and your student, next time leave the reprimands and punishments of such crimes to me. Revenge is reckless," The Captain let Ker'Tak off with a warning, "This will not be going on your record, but please, refrain from such actions in the future."

Ker'Tak nodded, and thanked the Captain before being dismissed from the room.

Ker'Tak returned to the Medbay, the dull throbbing in their abdomen warning them that they would need another regenerate soon.

They pushed it out of their mind as they saw a frazzled human Skye trying to keep up with everything headed her way.

Ker'Tak took her by the shoulders and carefully leaned down. She froze, suddenly terrified.

"It's just me, Human Skye," Ker'Tak noticed her breathing get noticeably easier.

"Ah, thank god. Another regenerate right?" Skye asked them.

"Yes," Ker'Tak nodded and Skye handed them the injector.

She walked away, trying to keep herself busy. Being hurt the way she had just been wasn't something so easily brushed aside.

"Skye, take your break," Ker'Tak offered. She shook her head.

"No, I have to do better. I need to keep it together and to keep going. This is just a bad day. I can get over it," Skye sounded like she was lying to herself.

Ker'Tak shook their head, looking down at the bandages wrapped around her arms, and the bruises showing up on her face.

Ker'Tak walked over, picked Skye up from where she was standing, laid her down on a cot, and sat beside her.

"Rest. You're badly hurt. And dehydrated from all the crying," Ker'Tak scolded Skye half heartedly.

Skye sat there a moment, then reluctantly rolled onto her side. Quickly, she found herself dozing into a restless sleep, terrified and on edge..

Until the warmth of a friendly hug from behind calmed her down.

The first true lesson Ker'Tak kept in mind from that evening?

Not even humans can always trust those of their own kind, and all will resort to violence to either protect themselves or get what they want. Si'Nians were lucky they found a teenager to make first contact with.

Fear, hatred and ignorance are the enemy.

-High Council of Planets Rule Of Conduct #10

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celestica-1988 · 5 years

Text

I’ll Be There

TheDirt!NikkiSixxxFemaleReader

It was a cold morning in New York, but you didn’t feel it.

Wrapped in your blankets you were stretching your arms, thanking God for the lucky job you had. You were one of the roadies of the Mötley Crüe and you were happy to sleep in the same hotel of them, the room was really comfortable.

After weeks spent sleeping in bunks everything was better than it, cause they were so small that sometimes you felt like you were in a lack of air to breathe.

The band was awesome but problematic.

Mick was always bitter and drunk because he had chronical back pain, Vince was the one sober and he seemed sad and then there were the Terror Twins.

Tommy was loud, a goofball of energy and then there was Nikki and your heart skipped a beat. Before starting the job you swore to yourself you wouldn’t fall in love with a band member. That was before you saw Nikki’s green eyes. They were so full of pain and confusion, rarely happy, rarely sober.

You knew he was in heroin, but you couldn’t image how much.

And so, as clique as it sounded you felt for the bassist and it wasn’t a good idea at all, you spent many nights crying in silence over it. It sucked watching the person you loved destroying himself with his own hands, sadder if you considered than none of his band mates were doing something about it because they were too busy with their own problems.

You would like to help him, but you didn’t know how, after all you were just a roadie, not a friend, just a random person.

It was discouraging for you, you owned so much to that band.

If it wasn’t for that job you would probably be homeless, so you felt like you wanted to help as much as possible.

Sighing you got up and had a shower, the situation wasn’t going to change no matter how much you thought about it. Probably the right chance would come when you stopped obsessing about it.

After a good shower you realized it was late in the morning and the breakfast time was over in the hotel, you hoped you could at least had a coffee at the bar. You couldn’t start your day without coffee and the band often teased you and made fun of you for this, but you didn’t care. Your morning coffee was more important of any stupid comment.

You went down in the hall, you asked for a coffee to the bar and you got it, you were sipping it when you saw Doc walked through the hall with a woman in high boots. They chatted for a while, then Nikki emerged from an elevator and he froze when he saw them. The woman hugged him crying, after a while he hugged her too. You had no idea what was happening but you sensed Nikki’s awkwardness from there. Whoever was that woman to him, she was someone he was not exactly happy to see.

Suddenly he released the woman from his arms and he started to scream and kick random things. Doc talked to him, but Nikki snapped at him and went away.

You paid the coffee and ran after Nikki, who left the hotel.

Sometimes Doc asked you to take care of him, but this time you were following him on your own free will, worried about what happened. The bassist was upset, something must had happened between him and the woman and whatever it was it hurt him.

You made your best to stay behind him, but people came in your way, you cursed New York and how crowded it was.

You knew Nikki enough to know that he would look for two things in that state: drugs or alcohol.

If you were lucky you would find him in some bar, in the worst scenario he would find some pusher and had some heroin and you dreaded this.

You didn’t want to see him laying on a sidewalks with a syringe in the arm, you didn’t know if you can stand that view. You were brave, but there were limits at what your brain could process.

You kept following him, even though he was more and more far away from you, praying to find him drunk instead of drugged.

In the end he disappeared into the crowd, you stopped for like five seconds then you were pushed by the people who were in a hurry for something.

You looked around, you saw the Christmas trees and the lights, most of this bunch of people were looking for presents. You lost the only one person that matters to you thanks to them.

You clenched your fists and released a frustrated noise.

How could you find him again?

……………………………………………….

One hour later you found him in a bar not too far away from the hotel.

He was drinking Jack Daniels and he seemed already drunk, you were relieved that at least he didn’t shoot heroin in his veins.

You sat at his table, he lifted the head from the glass.

“Hey, Y/N. Did Doc send you to look for me?” He slurred.

“No, I came here because I was worried for you. Doc didn’t know anything.”

“Better for him, he’s out. He’s another bastard who just wants to exploit my music.” “Why do you say that?

What happened?” “I don’t really wanna talk about my private shit in a crowded bar where it could be hidden a fucking journalist.”

“Fine, let’s go back to the hotel.” “In my room there would be that bitch still.”

“Then come in mine. No bitches, no journalists.

It’s not first class like yours, but…”

“Why?”

“Why what?” “Why are you doing that, Y/N?”

“Because I care about you, I’m worried about you and I wanna help if it’s possible.” He gave you a suspicious look.

“I don’t wanna exploit your music, how could I even do that?

I don’t play any instrument and I’m just a roadie. I’m nothing for the Elektra Records.”

“Ok, let’s go.

I was tired to stay there anyway.”

He got up and stumbled, he was unsure on his legs so you passed an arm around his waist, for the firsts five seconds he seemed about to take it away, then he just gave up.

“Fuck.”

He said under breath.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t seem able to walk alone.”

“Yea.” He paid the alcohol and then you left the bar.

Outside it was darker than you thought, a lot of people starred at you and Nikki gave a middle finger to everyone.

“Stop it or some goddamned journalist will come.”

“I’m not a monkey in a zoo.” “For those people you are just a drunk person, there’s no reasons to react like this.

It will just draw attention on us.”

“You are smart, how come you are babysitting us?” “Money. I haven’t got enough of them for any college and to be honest I like this work.”

He laughed.

“I can’t believe there’s someone who likes babysitting four grown ass men.”

You would like to tell him that being a roadie was more than take care of the band, that every concert who was successful was a personal satisfaction because behind it there were also your work.

You had the feeling that Nikki wouldn’t understand and just plainly accused you to exploit his talent. Why was he so complicated?

It wasn’t simple deal with Tommy, Mick and Vince, but with Nikki it was like playing Russian roulette every time you talked to him. Drugs just made it worst his natural tendency to mood swings.

Slowly you reached the hotel, Doc shot at you a grateful glare and kept drinking, he was a tired man now.

You were tired too, but you have to be strong for Nikki now, even though it wasn’t your job.

You took the elevator and you started to rummage in your pockets to find the key, after a few tries you fund them.

The elevator’s door opened and you and Nikki staggered till your room.

You entered it and he left himself drop on the bed.

“Man, I’m fucking tired.” You sat on a chair and looked at him.

“What happened, Nikki? Why do you start to kick everything?”

“It was her fault, she should haven’t be here.”

“Who? The woman in the hall?

Who is her?” Nikki looked at you with piercing eyes.

“She’s Deana, my mother.” You widened your eyes in shock, Nikki never talked about his parents so you thought he was orphan.

“Your mother? I thought you were an orphan.”

He laughed bitterly.

“I wish I was. My parents are still alive. My father left my mother when I was two years old, I didn’t even remember his face. Since then, I guess, my mother brought home abusive men who last just two weeks and fucked her and beat me.”

“I’m sorry, Nikki.” He didn’t even listen to you.

“When I was thirteen I made her arrested by the cops, I cut myself with a knife and told them she was her fault, that she hurt me. I also told her to never call me again and she did it for a while.

I lived the rest of my teenager age in a foster home, once I was eighteen I left and called my father. I was looking for a ghost and the ghost said he didn’t wanna have nothing to do with me.

I changed my name into Nikki Sixx and so I thought I was free from my past, but…” Tears started to fall from his eyes.

He was in pain, all his demons were dancing in that room, you could hear them laugh at Nikki.

You wanted them to go away, you wanted to make him feel better.

“When the band became famous she found out that Nikki Sixx was his son.

Since then Deana call me every once in a while, I could handle it. But things got worse when “Home Sweet Home” came out. She called me everyday.

Every fucking day.

I had no idea why, but now I know.

The first things she asked me after so many years was if “Home Sweet Home” was about her.

She never cared about me, she cares only about herself.

That’s my mother, Deana! Every time she called I shoot heroin in my veins so I don’t think about her.

And now I met her, I saw her in the eyes because that idiot thought it could help me.

Fucking idiot.”

You knew Doc’s intentions weren’t bad, but he didn’t know the whole story.

You were horrified that someone so selfish and toxic grew up Nikki. It was no surprises he didn’t want to see her.

Seeing the boy you loved crying silently with the hands on his face, while little hiccups shook him, broke your heart. What could you do?

Slowly you went on your knees in front of him and hugged him, hoping that your body could say what your words couldn’t.

Nikki stay frozen for a while, then hugged you back. A tight hug, the same of a man who was drowning and found something that keep him above water.

“Nikki…”

You said softly, caressing gently his hair.

“I can’t delete your past and I can’t change the fact that Deana was an asshole to you, but when she calls you I will be there for you if you want to.

Come talk to me, every time you want to, I will listen.

I care about you, I don’t want you to shoot heroin in your veins if it can be avoided. I don’t want to see you kill yourself slowly…” Your voice cracked.

“I don’t wanna find you dead or read that someone did. I really care about you.

So please come to me, instead of heroin.” Now you were crying too.

You poured your heart in those words, you hoped that reached Nikki’s heart because you really didn’t want to see him consume himself. You loved him, but at this point it didn’t even matter, it was okay being just his friend.

He looked you in the eyes. This time his eyes were vulnerable and a bit scared, you didn’t break the contact.

“Do you care so much about me that is okay for you that a fucked up guy could’ve call you at every hours of the day or night?”

“Yes.”

He smiled weakly and then kissed you.

It was a gentle and soft kiss, still it sent shivers on your spine.

“Nikki?” You said confused, he brushed your lips.

“I like you, I wanna try to trust you.”

You hugged him.

“I’m so happy you did.” “But I’m really tired now, can I sleep here next to you?

You nodded and he started to undress. You did the same, but at the moment to lay on the bed you hesitated.

“Come.” He said with a smile.

“Ok.”

You laid next to him who hugged you from behind.

You were a bit scared because from now you would start a long journey, complicated and full of pain, but the warmth of Nikki’s body calmed you down.

Whatever it would happen you’ll face it with him.

That what the warmth was telling you and you believed it.

You believed in your heart and that made you feel brave.

None of you wasn’t alone anymore.

You felt asleep smiling.

Maybe you were a fool, but it was worth a try.

Love was never wasted.

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crackinglamb · 4 years

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Get to Know Meme

I was tagged by @pip-n-flinx, thank you kindly!

Rules: Answer 20 questions, then tag 20 bloggers you want to get to know better.

Name: Pfft, we have to know each way better than this for you to get my real name (see below).

Nicknames: On all of my platforms, social, writing or gaming, I am CrackingLamb. It was originally part of my xbox gamer tag and now I’ve made it my own. It serves the dual purpose of making me easy to find online, while simultaneously keeping my personal info private. People call me Lamb or Lamby.

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Height: 1.63 m or 5′4″

Languages: English, enough French to say that I don’t speak a whole lot of French. I was learning Japanese for a while, but lack of practice has made me forget just about all of it.

Nationality: I am American, and am deeply disillusioned and disgusted by my country. Go vote!

Favorite Season: Fall

Favorite Flower: Lavender roses

Favorite Scent: This is oddly specific (because it’s a person, not a thing) but: Obsession cologne on a leather jacket, with a hint of fresh pack of cigarettes. One whiff of that and I’m suddenly 19 again, way in over my head in love and stupid because of it. But I was so much happier then than I ever realized. Something simpler that doesn’t leave me with regrets would be petrichor.

Favorite Color: Silver gray

Favorite Animal: Octopus

Favorite Fictional Character: That depends entirely on mood. I have too many genres of fiction (either in literature or in gaming) that I love to narrow it down. Some examples include, but are not limited to: Garrus Vakarian, Kvothe the Bloodless, Phedre no Delauney de Montreve, MacKayla Lane, Chase Kolpath and Krieg the Psycho.

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: No coffee, can’t stand the stuff. Everything else is a yes.

Average Sleep Hours: Currently? 5.5 hours a night. It’s never enough, and I nap as often as I can get away with it.

Dog or Cat person: Cat

Number of Blankets Slept With: It’s winter, so right now there’s three, although one of them is just on the end of the bed for my feet.

Dream Trip: Back to the Big Island of Hawai’i. I fell so in love with that place.

Blog Established: Late 2017

Followers: 110

Random Fact: I’ve had two back surgeries, and I like to joke that I have artificial parts. There is a Teflon mesh cage where a disc used to be. Not that it does me any good, since I also have a spinal fusion made of titanium pins the size of my pinky there, covered over with a bone graft. This is the source of me being a spoonie. Chronic pain is a real bitch to live with in this age of ‘opioid addiction crisis’. But you didn’t come here to hear me get on a soapbox about it.

‘Tag 20 people’. I’d be here all day trying to find 20 fellow bloggers to call out. Some of you I already know as well as myself, lol. So I’ll just do a few. Tagging: @saberwriter, @fasterpuddytat, @sociallyacceptablemadness, @red-rosa, @blueboxness and anyone else who feels like joining in may feel free to do so.

#get to know meme #tagged

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weabbynormalblog · 4 years

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You got this!

Failure is a good thing...What???

In my experience it breeds strength, courage, conviction and belief in oneself!

That's right every step count; even if it leads to failure. Just another learning moment.

Perfection is something we all strive for at one time or another. The error free post, the ultimate cake, meal, artwork, skill, trade or even apparently phone call. We all do our best however our best often isn't always perfect. Success at anything usually requires commitment, a solid plan, consistency, knowledge and a wide variety of skills in order to successfully achieve realistic goals. Usually an optimistic big picture approach and managing daily details are the steps that lead to overall sucess. As humans we fail time and time again, success can seem fleeting and quite elusive at times especially when frustrated.

Failure really is only a complete failure when you give up forever. Like Anthony Bourdane. Suicide ideation is not "normal" behavior or anywhere near healthy thoughts. It's the red flag. It's the failure to thrive while being overwhelmed consistently.

Happiness and joy is available to everyone, regardless of situation or station. It's a choice, another option a better possibility.

It is attainable! Take responsibility for your own happiness!!! Don't let yourself be defeated by one little moment in a bazillion of moments that come in a lifetime! Success and failure are a matter of belief. Stop that degrading story playing in your head, that you'll never be better. Start saying what is easy, what is working; go down that check list if you have to. Never measure your self worth to others. We are all unique while being quite alike too. Weight the positives and agree to improvement on the negatives. It's all good! Change your vocabulary and thinking to a more positive mind set. We do ourselves a great disservice by comparing and analyzing who we are in retrospect to others. Judging our performance, philosophy, our earnings and material wealth. We are way more than the 10% of what people see.

I learnt by failing that I don't need to be successful or perfect at anything to be happy. I can enjoy the moment regardless of handicap or pain. That's a big realization in terms of adaptation and self acceptance! My therapist said pay attention to my thoughts, all of them, not just the good ones. And I am. I went to Giant Tiger to pick up some odds and ends and was stuck in a huge line at the check out. My endurance somewhat fleeting. I employ stretching and moving around while waiting. Extreme pain in my head, just breath slow in out sit in the pain and breath through it. I survived. Learning curve don't go at lunch time silly. Understanding our pain, our limits and abilities is a good start in the healing process. It's a big deal so I'm sharing it with you. It helps and works. Practicing mindfulness, energy management, a shelf life for your emotions, good sleep hygiene, the Yoga and a process free raw food diet. I even imagine it all chipping away at my disease. I'm starting to see results now in shifting my mind set. There may not be a "cure" for CFS mental illness etc or what terrible situation has befallen you, there's still hope for you to change, adapt and to create your own joy. Try out something that will bring some relief, you never know where that will lead you. Little by little, tiny beautiful bunches of happiness and success. So I'm going to keep working my schedule no matter how grim and depressed I am. I'm going to continue to rock my adaptation by not giving in to the fear of failure, lack or the unknown. I put in the time to go out to socialize and play music once a month because it's good for me even if I have to leave early or don't even get there. There was still lots of little steps of success throughout my day. I've been working hard on my stamina and energy consumption by practicing the standing, walking, singing and playing guitar. I was caught off guard by the crippling physical exhaustion. Next time I'll try an afternoon meditation session or even a power nap on music outing night. The smooth ride was over. Overdoing any type of activity can leave me in jeopardy of injury. Like loosing physical balance; I've injured myself enough to know no thank you body, I'm listening. Often I'm in bad shape for days with flu like/sun burn/tin man symptoms.

Ok fine, body you win this one.

Failure aside, I still got out of the house. I interacted with other humans and did something that brings me joy. I find when I'm not attached to the outcome, results or expectations, my moments can be enjoyable in spite of my body. Suddenly any down time becomes worth the little bit of enjoyment. Its about the quality of those moments and those were some good quality moments. Not a complete failure as I first thought. Yes it was depressing that I couldn't physically get through 3 songs this time. What does this inability means for my physical health in the future? Then the fear old me. New me however what I did perform, I did do justice! This is to be expected, the no more energy thing. This is my normal now. It's the nature of the beast. And I was pacing myself. I guess it doesn't matter that my practicing was successful or consistent because it suddenly became nul and void up against illness. I got to be realistic here. Yes CFS is a real fucking thing! It's like the narrow mindedness that comes with "flat worlders" have friends all over the globe. My CFS/TBI clearly cut me to the quick. It let me know who's bitch I really am. No more performing of any kind tonight! The old me: I was so bummed, ready to pack it all in, no cure; minimal enjoyment and relief. Ensuing some kind of abusive self harm behavior, the old me. The new me: Ok, so it was too much for me this time. Maybe not the next. It happens to lots of people. I know exactly how Lady Gaga feels. My body and mind gave out mid performance. Severe dry mouth, balancing and memory issues. It was awkward. I was somewhat dumbfounded. I had to stop singing and playing guitar or I was going to wipe out on the stage damaging lots of nice equipment and instruments. I can't keep putting myself at risk of falling. With chronic fatigue (insert auto immun/mental disorder)etc. Safety is an issue. You literally have no choice. Your tiered body/what's broken wins. Sometimes in extreme ways. I'll rest, dust myself off and give it another go another day.

I'll keep at it. I have too! I will not let illness dictate my life. I'll find a way to live with it, cure it or kill it which ever comes first.

For love the of myself, my offspring and all the others suffering.

#CFS is real #No cure for CFS #how to live with chronic illness #Chronic Fatigue is more than just being tiered #Coping better with mental illness #supporting good health practices #Seeking a balanced lifestyle #No more stress #Cure for CFS #living with handicaps #cure for Tbi

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katzenkrieg · 3 years

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“A Rant on Papers” - or, if I’d shown this to someone 16 years ago, maybe I’d’ve gotten ADHD treatment 16 years earlier

I’ve been transcribing my old journals (I’ve journaled with some gaps since 2005 - I’m 37 now, so since I was 21), and I found this tucked in my 2005 one.

A journal entry says that I wrote it when I was struggling to write a paper for college in my second year, and that it helped me clear my head a bit.

I was diagnosed OCD and chronic depressive at, like. Nine. But no one ever suggested ADHD to me until *last year,* and I never stopped to take my own feelings about my limitations and what I can/can’t do seriously until this year. And this year is the first year I feel decent since I was a teenager. (Yes, even despite everything going on!)

So if you ever find yourself writing down or feeling things like this, do not hesitate. Read up on ADHD and consider getting yourself screened asap. Talk to other people with ADHD about how they cope. (I’ve found people with ASD also have a lot of overlap, and I benefit a lot from talking with my ASD friends, too.)

Take what you’re telling yourself seriously. Take your struggles and pain seriously. Everyone else *doesn’t* struggle with what you do. You’re wired differently. You’re not bad. You can’t punish yourself out of your own nervous system. But you can find other people like you. We’re all out here working on figuring out how to live in the world.

[CW for the following: Suicidal ideation, self-harm descriptions, intense frustration and self-hate. Also a brief mention of child abuse - which I haven’t experienced, but I mention someone else experiencing it.

Also, seriously, I’m right in the last few paragraphs. Do *not* read Night, Mother when you’re depressed. Or, hey, don’t read Night, Mother period. It’s an awful play to read/see if you’re disabled in any way.]

I am sitting in the chair on my porch – I never sit on the chair on my porch. Just like I never sit in the bathtub in the bathroom with the door closed. Or on the guest bed downstairs. Or on the small square of carpet outside of the basement bathroom, surrounded by Joss' [one of our cats at the time] butt drags and the smell of cat litter.

I only sit in these places when I'm hoping something will change – some switch in scenery or some isolation from the good parts of my life – my things, my books and computer and family – will make things different.

But it doesn't. It never makes things different. I just sit alone and hurt and ache and feel stupid because of it.

Papers make me want to just stop. They don't make me want to kill myself. They do make me want – or at least, visualize – hurting myself. A lot of images of spikes in the back, small knives, bloody slits running across palms, broken bones, pain – as though it would clear my head or punish me or prove that I am capable of something – some action. I stand in front of mirrors and imagine all the blood draining slowly out of my body. I stand near banisters and wonder what it would be like to jump over them and die at the bottom. I think about just dying – someone else doing it for me – a thug, a punk = just me, a body in a ditch – sad and alone and completely, purely, blissfully oblivious. Nothing left – all the benefits of suicide, none of the guilt. A tagline that ran through my head today.

The thing is, I don't really want to die. And I hate these days when it's all I seem to be able to think about, when I want it, when I can't do the simple, practical things and get stuck being morbid and depressed instead. I feel so alone on these days – and I know that's ridiculous, too. Everyone has papers – my parents had papers, my dad still has papers, all of the students I know and like who are seniors have had papers for years. And hell if they liked them – they stayed up late, they pushed themselves, they slacked and procrastinated, or they got little tiny orderly calendars and managed their time well (the ones with the tiny calendars always make me feel ashamed). They got things done. I know they did. I know I should.

But I don't want to. I want all of the cake, none of the cooking. I'm tired, and I want to be; I'm lonely, and the work...it's just there. It sits there and stares at me and it makes me want to weep and run and hide from it. It makes me want to crawl under some safe table in the back of my mind, some comfortable place full of cats and stuffed animals and old things, and just sit there and cry and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist.

I'm broken. I have so much inside of me – or I think I do or I wish to. I want to share. I want to explode all over people. I want little bits of my mind to go ricocheting out of my head like confetti and land all over others, and I want them to look at them and laugh or cry or understand, and then I want them to look at me and see me and want to share back. I want them to take me and hold me and tell me it'll all be okay, that I'm alright, that I'm not going to die, that they all feel like that – or at least some of them do – and they've wondered why nobody's mentioned it before – or at least nobody's ever done anything about it. And I'll look at them, and we'll both be crying and we'll both be alone and it'll hurt more than sixteen kinds of hell but at least there'll be some kind of connection between us. And maybe then if we die we'll die together, at least. Or maybe we can try to change things. Though everyone says that's futile.

And they're right, I think. Because what needs to change isn't the outside world – it's me. All those people I mentioned earlier – they're dealing with the same outside world, and they're handling it just fine. Or in some way that resembles fine long enough for them to get a college degree. I handle things by moping and hating myself. I hate every piece of my body, every fraction of my soul at these times. I wish I would burn. I wish I was in some Constantine version of hell where emo, self-absorbed assholes like me end up.

All of this suggests that it's me that's wrong, not it. It ain't down with the man, burn the establishment – it's burn me. It's if I was in the wild and this was evolution, I would not be passing on my genes. I would be a dead end. A garbage in, garbage out. A great big what the fuck was the world thinking mistake.

Which is what it all comes back to – I'm faced with a paper, and I suddenly hate myself and see failure and want to die. Which is not a reasonable response now, is it? The other thing I want is for the world to suddenly tell me it's okay to fail. Because, damn it, I just don't want to do these damn things – I don't like what they are, I don't like what they do to me (even though I know it's really me doing it to me, not the papers – the papers really don't have a damn thing to do about it). I want them to stop. I want me to stop. All these nice people keep helping me and I love them for it and they mean so much to me – but... I don't know what they want. People say do something, anything's better than an F. But is it? I mean, yes, it probably is – I know it is – nobody cares how well or not well I got the college degree, as long as I get it. But I just lock up. Some part of me wants to see that big, fat “F,” see the people coming after me with pitchforks. I'm a fake and a fraud, a bright, intelligent mind who doesn't want to do all the work all the other bright, intelligent minds have had to do. I want the easy way out. I'm not strong.

I always think my life's been so weird – crazy for a year at 10, back surgery, OCD, depression, leaving high school early, all that grief in high school in particular. But other people have the same things – like [Elise] at school. I talked to her some one day, and she told me she'd been abused when she was little. And that she went through a period of cutting herself. And then I feel bad about feeling bad about my problems – because, hell, they're nothing compared to some other people's problems. Maybe we shouldn't really keep these problems secret – maybe sometimes if we all shared the things that really hurt us we wouldn't feel so alone. All of us are so surface. Everything important lives inside our heads. How was my professor's day? I don't know. Does she/he have kids? Does he/she hate their job and wish they were doing something else? Are we all caught going forward pretending it's okay? Is that what it's all about, really? Pretending it's all alright, that we're fine, that we don't need to break or shatter or hurt, until we wind down and die?

Good God, this isn't really working, is it? I'm just being emo. Or, hell, maybe we should all be emo occasionally – maybe it'd be good for us. Really, hell if I know. I should, of course, be writing my paper. Write the paper, problem solved, point moot. Except my papers and I always end up in the same mutual hate/guilt/anger/despair crappiness. Which is just damned ridiculousness. Right now, I hate me; and I shouldn't. I should just write the damned paper. Damn, damn, damn.

- some random thoughts:

1) I should probably not read Night, Mother when I feel like this. Or maybe I should – it might make me feel better. Who knows? I would like to read it one of these days.

2) The recurring image that always comes back to me when I feel like this is of the cocooned people in the Alien films, rasping “kill me.” I think that about sums up the low points pretty well.

3) I always feel like I'm doing something worthwhile when I putz like this, even though it takes time away from what I should actually be doing. This, of course, raises the question – what should I actually be doing? This, because it provides immediate results and/or pleasure, or the other, because it's good for me and will have long-term benefits? Am I exploring options or wasting time? I think I'm wasting time and being a rat emo bastard – son of a bitch, aren't I?

#adhd #add #adult-diagnosed #depression #take your pain seriously #it's real and it's *not* something everyone else is feeling and just powering through #self-harm #i'm still shocked no one even *suggested* ADHD as a diagnosis back then

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