hit wave

hey do you ever suddenly remember zayn tweeted this and promptly get hit with a wave of chronic depression that makes you wanna squirt lemon juice into ur eyes so u never have to see anything that sad ever again in ur entire life

i don’t know why you’d need or want context to this but if you do here’ this video

You think you’re doing fine. You go along with your life as if it didn’t matter. As if it didn’t hurt. Then suddenly, out of the blue, it hits you like tsunami waves, crashing mercilessly. Over and over again. Your eyes are dry but your heart is in pain. It’s crushing and breaking and tearing all at the same time. You miss that person. You miss that person for how they made you feel. For all memories, good and bad, they gave you. For the worry and the anger and the love and the care. You ponder for a second. You wonder if you truly miss that person, or if it’s just the loneliness speaking. Is it because you’re doing nothing now, talking to nobody that you miss that person? Or have you been missing them all along, it’s just taken you this long to acknowledge that? You’d like to think that it’s the latter but, really, it’s both. You’re constantly missing that person subconsciously. The loneliness only magnifies the longing. Everyday you’re fighting that loneliness. You try to overcome the sorrow it brings, but today just isn’t one of those days. Instead of wallowing, you look on the bright side. You remember the good that that person gave you. You realise that, although that person hurt you, you’re still grateful. That person made you realise things you didn’t know about yourself. How, when you love, you become a pushover. You’d do anything so as not to compromise what you both have. And you shouldn’t be like that. Not all the time. It’s alright to give in sometimes, but don’t make it a habit. You’re making yourself vulnerable. You learn that putting what you want first, isn’t always a bad thing. That if that person truly loved you, they wouldn’t put themselves in a position to lose you. Then, after all the thinking and wondering, your heart is kind of at peace…for now. Being able to release all this emotion, will greatly lift the burden in your heart. You’ll feel lighter. But it would be foolish for you to believe that it won’t come back. The heart is a fickle and finicky thing. But when it does come back, you’ll know how to handle it. You’ve done this before. Just remember what you’ve given and remember that loving yourself first is more important. Value yourself in the way that that person wasn’t able to do. Take a deep breath. Smile. You’re good to go. You got this.
—  dext-erous 
When I miss him, I tend to forget everything he did to hurt me. I forget the sleepless nights and the way he made my chest fill with an indescribable pain.
I try to remember that when I miss him. I try and it all comes back, and I’m hit with a tsunami wave containing almost a year of pain.
I still miss him.
—  v.m

anonymous asked:

Forgive me if you've been asked this already but at what moment do you think Clarke fell in love with Lexa, or realized she was in love with her? I believe Eliza had trouble answering this at a con (I think she said it was before the bow though) so I'm wondering what you think.

Mmm that’s hard to say, and honestly, that’s kinda what I love about it. Because you can’t always exactly pinpoint the moment you fall in love with someone, right? Maybe it’s a feeling that grows gradually but unstoppable, maybe it’s like a wave hitting you at once, it varies. And that’s how I think it was for Clarke.

The way I see it, it was sudden for her at first and then everything slowed down and it naturally developed. It wasn’t love yet in the beginning, but there was definitely a realization that she had feelings for Lexa. Just look at her face after storming out of Lexa’s tent in 2x14. 

Why else would she looked so bothered? If she had just been upset about their argument she would have had an angry face. Instead she looks like she’s literally trying to physically restrain her feelings, whatever they may be. She takes that deep, shaky breath in an attempt to collect herself because, what the hell just happened inside that tent? Did Lexa really just confess she has feelings for me? And why does it affect me so much? What am I feeling? This is what I think is going through her mind. And then of course we have the confirmation of this, when she gladly replies to Lexa’s kiss. Even after she rejects her, there is no indication of that being a definitive rejection. There is no feeling of “I’m sorry, but I don’t reciprocate.” Clarke is not ready for a relationship, and it’s right that she was honest with Lexa, but she rejects her in literally the softest way possible, AND leaves the door open for the future. Not yet. That means she already sees herself considering a relationship with Lexa in the future, after healing, when she’s finally ready. And look at how tender and somewhat tamely longing her gaze is even after she rejected Lexa.

She is definitely aware of her feelings for Lexa here. But then the betrayal happens and ah, they take 46 steps back.

Now, of course, Lexa’s betrayal causes Clarke to close herself off. Clarke is angry at Lexa, she’s angry at herself, she’s in pain, every other feeling pales in comparison. And obviously, so much of Clarke’s suffering is tied to what Lexa did, so it’s definitely not a surprise that romance is out of the question when they first meet again. Clarke’s pain is consuming her, she is definitely not thinking about whatever she and Lexa had. And yet…

This isn’t a romantic moment by any means. But we’re talking about Clarke realizing she loves Lexa, and I don’t think we can’t gloss over this moment. When I say that I don’t romanticize this scene, it’s because this is not a cute moment. This isn’t a “oh my God, she loves her!” moment, this moment is sad. It’s painful, it’s heartbreaking, but it’s so damn important. Clarke can’t kill Lexa here. How much easier would it be for her to shut her heart out entirely, to blame Lexa for everything and just kill her without feeling anything? I bet in that moment, a part of Clarke wants that. But Clarke feels, and she feels for Lexa. She has these feelings and they won’t go away, not even when she’s at her lowest. So yeah, not a romantic moment, but definitely essential to understand Clarke’s complicated feelings for Lexa.

After the bow, Clarke is a little more trusting towards Lexa, but she’s definitely still closed off, she’s not ready to expose her heart yet. And we get to the “I’m doing it for my people” episode, 3x04. Right from the very beginning, Clarke spends the entire episode trying to find a way to keep Lexa safe, to protect her. But every single time she voices her concerns to Lexa or hell, even Titus, her preoccupation feels far more personal than political. She’s worried, she’s agitated, she even seems angry that Lexa won’t listen to her and step away from the duel. It’s a crescendo of apprehension and frustration and anxiousness as every single one of Clarke’s attempts fails, crescendo that culminates in an emotional explosion.

The second gif is particularly telling. Titus interrupts them, the moment is gone and Clarke finds herself having to face what just happened. Look at her face, at how she looks away from Lexa and sucks a breath through her teeth. She’s restraining her feelings, but she’s a little too late this time. And it’s not only Lexa who is shaken by Clarke’s emotional outburst, it’s Clarke herself too. She doesn’t catch herself in time and now she can’t pretend with herself that those feelings aren’t there. I think this is when the true first “shift” after the betrayal happens. Clarke wants to keep Lexa at arm’s length but Lexa might very well die that same day and, despite any resolution she had, the thought terrifies Clarke. And she’s so scared that she’s never going to see Lexa again that…

I could write an essay on all the emotions Clarke experiences before and throughout and at the end of Lexa’s duel, but the gist of it is that during this tense moment, with Lexa’s life on the line, she can’t bring herself to hide her feelings. It’s all there, on her face. 

Only when things settle down she is able to collect herself again. Lexa comes visit her that night and we see Clarke pull her walls up again. “I was just doing what was right for my people.” BUT! Even if Clarke is not ready to open up her heart again, that scene is infused with intimacy. Even Clarke’s “rejection” is filled with emotion.

Clarke is the opposite of cold here. The way I see it, she is pulling away because she’s realizing she’s close to giving in, but she’s not yet ready for that. It’s so clear that here Lexa is talking about what happened at Mount Weather too, this is another quiet apology that Clarke obviously recognizes. If she went with her feelings, Clarke would have to admit that she does understand Lexa, that in her heart maybe she’s already forgiven her. But in that moment it’s too overwhelming, so she looks away and avoids the conversation, avoids Lexa’s gaze, avoids having to focus on her feelings.

She literally keeps having to look away because things get too intense but at the same time there’s a tenderness in her eyes that she can’t hide. And once Lexa is gone and she can breathe… bam

All the feelings she restrained, everything she tried to hide merely minutes ago hits her full force. I said I think Clarke’s love for Lexa developed gradually, naturally, but if I had to pick a specific moment and say that’s when Clarke realized she’s in love with Lexa, it would be this one.

By the time we get to 3x06, I do believe Clarke knows and has accepted she is in love with Lexa, but she’s still struggling to admit it out loud, especially to Lexa. That episode happens roughly 7-10 days after the events of Hakeldama, and when we see Clarke and Lexa again, they are closer than ever. There is a sense of intimacy, of almost domesticity between them. They are comfortable with each other’s presence. There’s not really a reason for them being in the same room in that scene: Lexa fell asleep while reading and Clarke is drawing (there are other sheets in her folder, which makes me think she was drawing other things before focusing on Lexa). They don’t have to talk or interact, they simply are together.

When Lexa wakes up from the nightmare, Clarke doesn’t hesitate to jump next to her and comfort her, with soothing touches and calming, reassuring words. And then we get to the moment Lexa notices the drawing. A lot has been said about Lexa’s face, but instead look at Clarke’s.

This is the exact opposite of what I was talking about in 3x04. Lexa sees the drawing and is taken aback. That she doesn’t know whether she should hope for anything is another story, but the look she gives Clarke is very telling. And Clarke doesn’t avoid it. Yes, her first instinct is to play it off as something meaningless. “Uh, that’s not- it’s not finished yet.” But then Lexa looks at her, confused, surprised, a tiny bit hopeful, and Clarke meets her gaze and they just stare at each other. Look at that little pause she does before lifting her eyes. That’s when she chooses not to hide. As I said, I think that here Clarke has come to terms with her feelings for Lexa, but here for the first time, she doesn’t hide them from Lexa. Her look is just as telling as Lexa’s. They aren’t saying a word and this is one of their most honest, important conversations. Clarke is silent, but her eyes are speaking, her untold feelings are there, and maybe letting Lexa know isn’t so unfathomable anymore. Maybe, maybe Clarke this is the closest Clarke has been to being ready.

So this is what i think. The way I see it, it’s tricky and complicated and simply beautiful.

People who slam doors and stomp their feet to show how much they want to physically hurt you shouldn’t be trusted

You hurt me more times than you helped me. I went back every time, right? Perhaps that’s my fault more than yours, but I was caught up in sea of pain with each wave hitting harder than the last. The only way to push the tide out was by going back to old habits, back to you. I prioritised ending the pain quickly over ending the pain right. I got caught deeper in your current every time I chose the fast solution, and that’s why it needs to stop.
—  It wasn’t fair on any of us

do u guys even realize how silena went into battle dressed as clarisse mimicked the way patroclus headed into war dressed as achilles and how clarisse went full on fight frenzy mirrored the way achilles exploded in all out killing rage when they found out about their loved one’s death

Break Down

So here is a langsty idea: Lance finally breaking down but at something small 


-


Lance sits, cross-legged opposite of Blue. He was holding a paintbrush dipped in polish to her claws.

He diy’ed some polish and made it to be highly resistant to damage. Swords? Lasers? Bullets? Not a crack in sight. It was tougher than nails.

“If only it could help with my self esteem right, Blue?” She raises a mental eyebrow, unimpressed by the joke. He chuckles.

“A few more strokes…”

“…and…we are… done.

Lance leans back grinning as he admires his work. Nicely done. Sky blue was definitely her colour. Blue thrums in agreement.

Lance had waltzed into her hangar a few hours ago declaring that it was spa day. He had spent it repairing, cleaning, and buffing out the dents in Blue.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence. They would usually do this every once a week or after a mission that leaves her badly wrecked.

He does it with joy. He does it remembering the days on Earth cleaning the heck out of his house with his family.

But today he was doing it as a distraction.

Blue knows.

“You are sad.”

A loud metal clang echoes throughout the room. Lance winces.

He was so caught off guard by the blunt statement that he dropped the metal lid used cover the container full of paint.

The floor was blue.

Why can’t you do anything right?’

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath. Everything building up from the past week spilled over at the minor inconvenience.

`Seventh Wheel.’

Fuck,” A tear threatened to fall, prickling at the corner of his eye. This wasn’t suppose to be a big deal. This wasn’t suppose to set him off. The lid rolled away from his grasp as he tried to pick it up.

‘You should be more like Keith.”

FUCK,” He gave up chasing the lid, choosing to slam his leg into the metal can and it flew into the air and across the room.

He could almost catch a glimpse of the bright sky back on Earth. It fell back down, wet against his face like rain.

The paint stung.

“Fuck.”

Every breathy gasp held frustration. He repeats the word over and over until the it was strange on his lips. He basked in the bittersweet relief it gave him.

“Lance,” something in Blue`s voice grounded him, A soothing hum reaches out, washing over him through the bond. “Breath.”

He stops.

Inhale. Exhale.

His pulse evens out

Lance paused for a good few ticks before proceeding to lie flat on his back on the floor. The only thing that reached his ears were the ocean waves hitting against rocks through their bond. He stayed like that for awhile; staring puffy eyed at the white ceiling. 

He shifts his body to the right, facing the lion.

“I deserve to die.”

andrew getting overwhelmed by how much he loves neil…like…before he Never saw this feeling coming he thought it was just his mind making up things while he was on his meds. he’s long since accepted that this is real neil is real but sometimes it hits him so hard, that he can have this. he wasn’t able to have cass the way he wanted because of drake ruining it, ruining him…but now he has neil, and he is able to keep having him. 

neil, who loves andrew unconditionally for who he is. neil, who accepts all of his sharp edges and dark thoughts. neil, who knows when to back away and when to stay close. neil, who wants to be with him and feels just the same as he does. neil, who can see the good in him when everyone else couldn’t. this all hits andrew like a wave crashing onto the shore and he feels like he’s drowning, but it’s a welcomed feeling. because it’s safety, and it feels like home. neil is home and before, he had this twisted, broken view of what “love” is from all those traumatic experiences that still eat away at him, both of them did, but this is new and different from anything else and too much and sometimes andrew wonders if he is really worthy of this, of what neil gives him and makes him feel. 

and there are still passing fearful thoughts that what if he loses him, but waking up to fluttering eyelashes against cheeks and the way the morning sunlight rests against his skin while he’s in a peaceful sleep, seeing those looks neil sends his way, full of adoration and warmth, late night trips to the grocery store together wearing eachother’s hoodies and sweats and picking up andrew’s fave sweets to dull the nightmares he just had and is still feeling in trembling fingers and a rapid heartbeat— 

it all makes their forever click into place and andrew knows that this is it. neil is it for him and it will always be that way

the pull of the tides (m)

pairing: park jimin | reader
genre/warnings: surfer au, fluff, light smut / none
word count: 12,513
description: The expanse of the deep blue sea has always drawn you in. Each ebb and flow of the tides never ceasing to take your breath away. And now, a boy with hair as light as the morning sun and a smile just as bright does too.
a/n: i dedicate this to @workofteaguk ‘cuz look girl, it’s finally here! and i also dedicate this to @jamlessness because you told you have yet to write a jimin fic so i wrote one for the two of us! okay, and @wonhopes too because i subjected her to read over this thing kjddghsjdkh <3

also, bless this post for the inspiration!

Originally posted by lonastic


When you were young, you begged your parents to take you to see the beach. This was your family vacation suggestion every year. All because you wanted to feel the sand between your toes and slip between your fingers and to watch each grain land right back where it was meant to be. And much like those grains of sand falling away from you, those trips seems to go by, and eventually they ceased the older you got.

Since then, being a prime age of twenty now, you’ve long since yearned to return to the beach town you’ve come to know and love for more than its seaside views.

With school out for another few months and nothing but time to kill, you’re actually more than ecstatic to take up a summer job at Bang’s Snack Shack. It’s directly across from the shores, and the view is absolutely amazing. You can see the way the sun reflects against the waters when it’s high up in the sky and when it goes down. The rays of orange and yellows bounce off the blues in a pretty swirl with small dots of people enjoying the waves on long boards. Each of them practically floating as the blue hues carry them across the vicinity until they’re in the safe confines of the wading area.

You enjoy the sight of surfers though you’re definitely no surfer yourself. You just find their ability in skimming the waters on a long piece of polished and colored wood amazing, especially when they’re at the peak of the waves build-up, and suddenly they’re coming back to the sands with bright eyes and grins to match on their sun-kissed skins. There’s just something beautiful in their enamored states, and although you can never truly understand it, you’re happy to witness it with your own two eyes until a customer snaps you back to reality.

Keep reading

IMAGINE: illyrian Nesta.

When they teach her to fly, Cassian’s wings are still hurt. He can’t fly so he helps her learn to get off the ground by holding both her hands because he “says” it will keep her from getting too high too fast (and her wings are too new and weak to carry his weight). But Nesta knows that the hand holding thing is more about him wanting an excuse to hold her hands. But she’s secretly fine with it and mildly terrified about getting caught in a strong current and getting swept away.

Cassian suggests putting a leash on Nesta just in case she goes too high and gets caught in a strong current. She ardently refused. (And secretly he knows he could use his siphons to grab her if something went wrong.)

Once she’s mastered getting off the ground they go out to sea. Cassian stands on the prow of a ship and Nesta practices going higher. When she falls it’s fine because of the water and she doesn’t go that high. But Cassian barks orders at her from the ground like, “BANK LEFT. NO—LEFT. NESTA. LEFT! YOUR OTHER LEFT.”

Nesta: (crashes to the water, climbs up into the boat) “The next time the winds change you should yell that first.”

Then one day she gets descent at flying and Cassian is yelling orders at her. She’s practicing falling drills where she has to catch herself. Her wings are stronger and more muscled so she’s pretty good at it. And Cassian tells her to bail out of the fall really late and she gets hit by a wave and it pisses her off. So she gets air born again and flies over to Cassian on the boat, picks him up, and dumps him into the ocean. He laughs the whole time. And when he and Nesta are on the boat again he jokes that if she wants to hold him in her arms so badly when he’s soaking wet she should just ask.

• Mirror rorriM •

Based off an anon ask that the lovely @stylesunchained received the other night. Who doesn’t love the idea of a some naughty fun against a mirror with Gucci suit Harry?
Thank you to @aboutalighthouse for the help and immense support while writing this!

~~~

The first thing you see when you walk into the crowded room is Harry. Harry in the Gucci suit looks like a goddamn vision; his smile breaking every heart and making knees weak. It’s like he has this bright spotlight on him and you can see everyone around you is casually trying not to stare in his direction. He’s oblivious to their stares as he works the room, his focus fully on the conversation he has with each guest.

He catches your eye when he’s posing for a picture with a beautiful woman on each arm, their bodies against him in hopes of keeping his attention when the photographer is gone. So, when his gaze lingers on you for a little longer than you can handle, you see the smile become a sort of smirk that you know can only mean trouble for someone, and you sincerely hope it’s going to be you.

Keep reading

Imagination Land

I’ve been able to read minds since I was a child. It’s not really like how you see in the movies, though. It’s not like listening to the radio. It’s much more immersive. I experience everything as if I’m really there. It’s a thrilling experience when you read the right minds. The trouble is really with finding minds worth reading.

Frankly, reading adults is as fun as doing taxes. Kids’ minds, on the other hand, are amazing. They’re not bogged down with work and stress and dissatisfaction. The mind of a child is filled with imagination and adventure. That’s why I became a kindergarten teacher.

I sit at my desk and watch as my class colors. I smile as they doodle away with their crayons. I reach out and peek into their minds. In an instant, I take off with Carlos in a rocket ship, hurtling past swirling galaxies. I visit far-off planets full of blob-like aliens and two-headed martians. I smile and move on to Marcy. I can smell the candy canes and jelly beans as I’m pulled into a veritable candyland, complete with gumdrop castles and caramel waterfalls. She plays hopscotch with gingerbread men, giggling her musical little laugh.

I’m about to move on to Thomas when I feel a tug at my dress. I look down to see Sarah. She’s one of the most adorable little girls I’ve ever seen. Beautiful brown curls, big puppy dog eyes, and a gleaming smile.

“Miss Dupree, I made this for you!” she exclaims, handing me a paper. I take it from her and see myself in stick figure form. “I Luv Ms. Doopry” is scrawled across the top in multiple colors.

“I love it!” I exclaim and give her a great big hug.

Sarah’s only been with the class for a couple days and I have yet to have a peek at her hopes and dreams. I reach out and touch her mind. And I nearly vomit.

I choke as I’m hit with wave after wave of the hot, fetid stench of death. My mind’s eye is blinded by a darkness which seems almost alive, spilling into my brain, seeking to blot out everything it touches. In the void, I feel slimy coils roiling around me, wrapping around my legs, pressing against my face, a gigantic beast hungrily probing the darkness in search for food. And then a keening wail rises up, nearly bursting my eardrums. The screams of thousands of souls, crying out in sorrow. Crying out for death.

And then I’m back in the classroom. I let go of Sarah and compose myself, hoping she can’t see me shaking.

“That’s a lovely picture, Sarah,” I say, nearly whispering. “Now go along and get ready for snack time, alright?”

She nods happily and skips off. I watch her as she goes. The minds of children are the most wonderful thing in the universe. But whatever that thing in the blue dress is, it is no child.

19 days/ Hanahaki Disease

AO3 link

The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from severe one-sided love, where the patient throws up flower petals until they suffocate to death. The only cure is to have that love reciprocated, or to undergo surgery to remove the plant which wipes all memories and feelings for their beloved.

It starts on a Monday.

Jian Yi’s throat has been increasingly scratchy, ever since he saw the love letter tucked in that girl’s palm.

Keep reading

Make Daddy Proud

A/N: ” harrys girl who has a HELLA MAJOR PRAISE KINK!!!!!!! plz and thank uuu”  Enjoy!

  “Harry! I got a ninety-seven!” I heard Y/n squeal from the living room. “Way to go, babe!” I praise and quickly place the shirt i just folded into my drawer. I laugh to myself and make my way over to where she was. I turn the corner and see her standing in front of the coffee table with her phone in her hand, she had been refreshing her email all afternoon. She’d studied for thirteen hours straight prior to this exam so, one can only assume she wanted this very badly. Before she realizes i’m in the room, I scoop her up in my arms and spin her around. 

  “i’m so proud of you” I mutter, my face nuzzled between her neck and shoulder. She takes my face in her hands and looks me in the eyes. “Did I make daddy proud?” She squints at me. I throw my head back, laughing. Y/n giggles as I set her back down to stand on her own. She sits her phone down on the table before turning back to me. 

  “Of course you did, you’ve always been daddy’s little star.” I wink.

  She raises an eyebrow and starts to play with the hair and the nape of my neck. My hand travels down from the middle of her back to lift up the hem of her shirt and gently run my nails against the skin of her hips. She hisses and touches her forehead to mine. “How come you never reward me, then?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip. 

“A lip bite? Very original” I tease.

 Y/n smirks and reaches her hand between our faces. She brushes her thumb over my lip “I could always bite yours, would that be more exciting?”

  She ignited a fire in me with a single sentence. I sigh, not only because I felt myself getting harder by the second, but because she had made me feel like a teenager again. All she did was was ask me a risque question and i’m already as hard as a rock. Sadly, I can’t say this is the first time its happened. She glances up at me through her lashes and waits for my response. “Why don’t you help me find more ways to make you proud, yeah?” she suggests, gesturing for me to sit on the couch. I know where this is going. That particular look in her eyes is a look i’ve seen before. Pupils dilated, lips nice and wet, breath shallow.

She gets down on her knees in front of me and wastes no time dragging my sweatpants down. I’m not wearing boxers today, I figured we would get a little hot and bothered at some point today (it being our only free day this week, and all) and I wanted to make the process less tedious. I’m thanking myself a million times internally. I take my shirt off rather quickly, my eyes glued to her, anticipating her next move.

  Y/n doesn’t bother pulling the trousers all the way off of my legs, she lets them pool at my feet. She takes my cock in her small hands kisses the tip, she lets some spit dribble out and onto the head before swiping over it with her thumb. The very same thumb she had used to toy with my lip not too long ago. I can’t stop the hiss that slips out, today is not a good day to prolong the foreplay. I very well might cum before the good stuff starts.

  She takes notice of my sensitivity to her touch and cuts to the chase, lowering her mouth down on me. Her tongue laps at the veins of my shaft and she knows how to apply just the right amount of pressure with her teeth. I feel them graze me as she brings her head back up to my tip. 

‘ah fuck..that’s good baby” I pant. She whimpers on me, her hand squeezing the base of me. She loves when I praise her….this could be fun. I decide to take it up a notch. What harm could a little more motivation do? 

“shit baby i- mm fuck you take such good care of your man, don’t you?” 

She nods lightly, my dick still lodged in her pretty mouth. I reach down and caress her cheek with my finger. “so fucking good, princess” I groan. She’s enjoying this. I can tell by how her eyes light up every time I speak. “You’re licking me with the same tongue you use to give th-those big speeches at school” I started, her eyebrows furrow. She has no clue where i’m going with this but continues to bob her head up and down. 

“That mouth is pure gold in and outside of the bedroom….you please daddy in every single way” This seems to do it for her. She lifts her mouth off of me and stands up to take down her yoga pants. 

“Come on” is all she spits out at me before walking towards the bedroom. I jump up, kicking my own pants off.

When i enter the room, I see her lying down on the bed, her panties around her ankles. She’s rubbing herself with one hand and beckoning me over to her with the other. I stride over to the bed, tugging at myself as I do so. “You getting ready fo’ me?” I ask her, she nods quickly. She seems so excited and i can’t hide the smile spreading across my face. I climb on the bed and toss her pink panties somewhere behind me, she doesn’t hesitate to open her legs up for me. Welcoming me in, inviting me. 

I decide to skip the foreplay and get right to business. I run my swollen head up her slick folds, forcing an incredibly loud moan from her when I stop to tap on her clit with my member. I let out a breath I didn’t know i was holding when she pushes her shirt over her breasts and begins to knead at them. I line my tip up at her entrance and push in slowly, making sure she can feel my every ridge. She arches her back when I fill her completely, stretching her to no end.

“You’re taking daddy so well baby” I groan out. I lean down to suck on her neck. “K-keep talking, Harry” she pleads. I kiss my way up to her ear and nip at her lobe a bit, filling her to the peak with every stroke. “You always get so wet fo’ me” I slow down a bit, it appears that all this praise is starting to get to me as well. I sit back up and hike her knee up so I can thrust even deeper than before. This time, I can feel her walls squeezing me, I also feel myself pulsating inside her. I’m getting close.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby ahh…ooh yes” I hiss. My thrusts are noticeably unsteady at this point but i’m fighting it. I want to make sure she finishes first and judging by the way she’s clenching around me, she’s just as close as I am if not closer.

“fuck harry oh!….mmh please” her hands are scraping at my forearms that stand on either side of her head, making it harder for me to hold myself up. I place my hands on the head board and pull out of her almost completely before rolling my hips back in to meet hers. Again and again and again until I have her body trembling beneath mine. She’s begging me not to stop. She’s pleading for me to cum with her, and my body betrayed me by obeying her orders. The muscles in my abdomen tighten and I clench my jaw shut.

”cum for me ahhh….f-fuck that’s a good girl ”

I feel my toes curl as the white sensation builds up. 

Then it hits me like a wave. “ooh Y/n fuck yes..fuck baby yess ahh” I cum in long, hot spurts with her still tightening around my cock. I kiss her slowly feeling my heart return to its natural rhythm. I lean up and move her hair from her face before dipping down to kiss her nose. “That was intense “ She laughed. I nod, still a bit winded. I pull out of her and grab one of the clean shirts from the pile I was folding earlier; I use it wipe us both clean. Thankfully, we didn’t soil the sheets this time so I happily climb under the covers and wait for her to do the same. She rests her head on my tattooed swallow and tangles her legs up with mine. 

“All this because of a test, I wish you would score this high all the time” I tease.

“Yeah? Well I wish you would finish folding the laundry…” she snickered

“Cry Followup”, or “See A Doctor! The Musical”

I got sad. A doctor recommended that I go off my anxiety meds because they might be interfering with a bunch of other health issues. I did. It wasn’t good.

I tapered off for months and dealt with the withdrawal symptoms. When they were gone, I felt ok for a few weeks. Then I was easily irritated and sometimes angry. Then weird feelings started to creep in. I guess it was just dread. Maybe it was weird to just be feeling anything after being numbed on meds for so long. I started crying watching movies sometimes or thinking about whatever the fuck. I started getting really sad. Eventually I would cry everyday, sometimes for multiple sessions. It’s strange to think back on that now that I’m safely numbed to fuck again.

My grandfather had died about 8 months earlier and I thought I had emotionally exhausted that, but now it was back and I dwelt on it constantly. I thought of dying with an urgency that I couldn’t distract myself from. I thought of everyone I knew dying. It felt like time was an illusion and it wouldn’t be long until I’m standing beside their open coffins, reflecting on how quickly time had passed and now they’re gone and I’d wasted time not spending more time with them.

Most days I’d just wake up and lie there for hours. I’d try to look at things on my phone to try to distract myself. Snapchat was fun for that. Christ, so was Miitomo. I wouldn’t get any work done. It was difficult to focus and overcome the feeling in my gut of being pulled down and the constant present terror feelings of death and knowing this whole experience will be gone some day, but before that, I’ll watch everyone I know leave too. For a long time, I don’t think I really connected that it was my absence of meds that was doing this to me. I thought maybe it was just circumstances and some kind of Holmes-Rahe scale thing where a bunch of life events happening at once were stacking and compounding my depression feelings. There was no way to win against it and this kind of thing encourages you to not to the things that will typically pull you out of a depression. It makes you want to seclude yourself more and work on further diminishing your self-worth mentally. Instead of seeing friends or doing activities you enjoy, you convince yourself that you’re a burden to them, they don’t really want to see you anyway, and that something bad is going to happen if you go out and do anything. For so many fucking days I just laid there. That makes your depression even worse; your lack of productivity frustrates you and makes you hate yourself. All that wasted time boils your living asshole. It’s a paralysis and you don’t know why you can’t break out of it. You can’t just go into the other room and sit at your computer and do your work. Brains are incredible. Just a bit of absence from a certain chemical changes everything. Of course, you tell yourself things like this, that it’s not really you and that it’s just a biological ineptitude temporarily and that everything will be fine soon enough, but that doesn’t help at all.

That’s the other thing: you don’t feel like this will ever end. This is who you are now. A fucking shrivelled terrified cryhole. I did feel terror quite a few times during all this. It usually gets you when you wake up or try to go to sleep. Everything is still and You are going to fucking die someday, sooner than you think and You have wasted every moment of your life so far blast in your mind and your heart pounds, you can barely breathe, and you might even suddenly groan as panic waves hit your brain in an instant. There’s a terror in knowing there’s no relief from this; that all of these things are true and for some reason you believed the illusion your whole life and weren’t always in the perfect terror about it that you are now. Still, you beg for that trick to come back, to be able to put this mindset away and believe in the stupid shit we tell ourselves just to keep existing in some kind of calm. All these thoughts keep assaulting you with some kind of biological urgency, like you need to figure this problem out immediately or you die. This is what being on chemicals to help your brain for years and then suddenly going off them is like. Your body doesn’t know what the fuck. It’s weird to not give a shit about any of this and then suddenly imperatively have to give a shit about it and be unable to escape it. Even now when I’m in the clear, I still feel its background noise. Maybe I always will from now on. This whole thing has been a Paul on the road to Damascus type ordeal.

I fucking cried watching the new X-Files episodes, my dude. Probably during each one. That’s what it was fucking like. Imagine being in your late ass twenties and something in the X-Files makes you cry because you think of a squandered opportunity, or what you should or shouldn’t have done as a kid, or wishing you had put more effort into certain relationships with family or friends. It just finds anything to grab onto and get you with. You just have a dragging feeling constantly present and looking for things to attach to and convince you you’re sad about. Frankly, it’s fucking annoying. I cried one time because a nintendo phone app was enthusiastic about sharing my character’s picture with others. Just the fact that someone would have an interest in who I am and treat me like a normal person and want to share something about me with other terrible avatars made me cry as I was playing this thing and trying to take a shit. It made me think about my own self-worth and how long I thought there was no reason anyone should give a fuck. Cripe, one time I was almost screaming crying about my best friend who died when we were 11. It was like a fresh wound again and I was lying facedown on my bed wailing like an asshole. Depression can fuck with you.

So, this got pretty bad and I decided I had to see my GP about it. This can become a battle in itself, because past a certain point, you are convinced you aren’t worth the effort and that you’re a burden to have to deal with, and someone else could use that time to see the doctor instead. It gives you any reason to turn yourself down. I cried right away talking to my doctor. All this is really weird to reflect on; I was an entirely different person then. It was like a frantic sadness, an inability to just hold your shit together for even a few minutes. The impending terror was really pressing; a constant urgent anxiety that something bad is going to happen really soon, or that I’m about to get a call that someone I know just died. The doctor recommended seeing a therapist and going back on meds. Now I remember that the reason I finally did something was because my neighbour’s son killed himself. Fuck, that really bothered me. Hearing about any death at all was bad enough, but I think that week I was reading about Edgar Allan Poe’s death and then Vincent Van Gogh’s, and I just got really fixated on vividly imagining their final moments. I think there were others, too. See? Just a stupid thing to waste your time on but in the moment, you think this will help for some reason. Maybe the gravity of that kind of thing hooks you and you can’t help but look into it. So when my neighbour’s son also committed suicide, that was a pretty strong blow. I hadn’t even talked to the guy in over ten years, but I couldn’t help but fixate on having seen his father maybe 3 days prior as he joked in my mom’s backyard and borrowed a ladder. Now his life was ruined and the son he struggled to try to get mental help his whole life had killed himself. He was only 37 and he had a son. I think I spent a few days of weeping out my stupid ass over this, then made the decision to see my doctor.

I started seeing my therapist and cried within 6 minutes of entering his office. I wish I went to see a talk doctor when I was recommended it as a teenager. It’s good shit. Beyond that, I started seeing my friends again. Before this, I think 2 years had passed between us spending time together. I had talked myself into feeling like they were better off without me anyway and had their own real friends and lives that I didn’t have anything to do with. I started to exercise and even just take walks around the block. Sometimes, if I was just lying awake staring at the ceiling, I’d get up and go for a run. I started being able to work on videos again and looked forward to it. Thinking back on it now, I realize I kept streaming during the whole time. That would become the only thing I’d do or look forward to for most of this stretch. SO THANKS IF YOU LOOKED AT MY TERRIBLE STREAMS DURING THIS ERA I WAS QUITE WOUNDED AND I’M HOPEFUL THAT I WASN’T TREMENDOUSLY OBVIOUS ABOUT THIS, YOU HELPED KEEP ME STABLE WATCHING ME PLAY WITH CHILDREN’S TOYS. Beyond this, I’d just sleep until the afternoon and try to find a way to kill time until the streams started. This is why there were even less videos than usual. I was sad.

So, these things helped pull me out of the shit. A lot of it is self-examination and discovering why you feel this way in the first place. I’ve talked to my therapist about whether or not this whole thing was because of being on meds for so long and then going off them and feeling a withdrawal, or if that’s who I am underneath the medication.  He said that it is probably both, but more that that’s who I am. Fuck. He categorized this as a major depressive episode. It was weird to just hear the words. That is the kind of thing that happens to people in their mid-30s in office jobs who are getting shit on by everything in their lives. I guess it can also make you feel like a diva asshole; that you feel you’re so important that you had to have this major crisis about yourself. Writing this makes me realize how stupid it is to think like this, but that’s the kind of trap you get put into. Anyway, let me emphasize how important it is to see a therapist if you are depressed. Do it. It can change everything. Also talk to a doctor and see if meds are part of your solution. See a doctor. Do not just let it go. This is like if you had cancer and you just wanted to wait it out or hoped it would get better on its own. A lot of people let it go until it’s overwhelming and consumes them completely and just kill themselves to end the pain. Don’t!

I got better. I went on meds and in just a few weeks I made a drastic improvement. Plus the therapy, and plus feeling like I was doing anything with my life again. I hear a lot about hesitation to go on meds because you feel like they may change the foundation of who you ever are. This doesn’t happen. For me, it made me feel more free to be who I felt like I really was. That said, it may numb your emotions if you are a person who typically feels a lot of things. Just talk to a doctor about any concerns you have and don’t let these build up and become reasons you don’t get help for yourself. You are worth it. The doctor isn’t angry to have to deal with you. If it will cost what you can’t afford, don’t let that become an excuse not to do it. Save up or find a way to make it work. Again, it’s like if you couldn’t afford cancer treatments so you just let it kill you instead of finding out how you can make the situation work financially. What you’re dealing with is serious! Do something about it!

I almost forgot to mention that a lot of getting better was having something to look forward to. Knowing I’d see my friends and we’d have a good time was part of it. Another was spending all of my fucking money to go to as many conventions as I could. They were something I enjoyed in the past but didn’t bother with much anymore, so I decided to get back into them. It was the best choice. Thanks for coming to drink a lot of beers and talk shit if I saw you at a PAX or TwitchCon or Magfest! They were sincerely some of the best times of my life. Knowing that it wouldn’t be long until I’d be at another convention helped a lot with otherwise feeling complete dread. The power of giving yourself something great to look forward to is really strong! Do it! Find things you like and make time for them. Reward yourself! At one point, I got into a really unbalanced lifestyle and would spend maybe 60 or 70 hours a week editing videos and I burned myself out to shit. All I would think about was the job and let my health and relationships go to shit. You’re not supposed to do that. Give yourself good things and make it a habit. Anyway, PAX East soon, my man.

When I wrote my last crypost, a lot of people responded it it. I was in a daze for the rest of that day as I heard from a mountain of individuals. A lot of you deal with issues like this and a lot of you feel hopeless about it. It’s fucked up! This is your life! You’re entitled to a good one! Doing something about it will take a lot less than you may think, and will help you in a lot more ways and probably faster than you may think. A lot of you also said since that you’ve decided to finally get help. So yeah motherfucker I had a cool cry about your messages several times. What was also helpful was anonymous tumblr questions saying they got help so others could see your experiences and know I’m not just yelling out my dick about this. Thanks! You helped people!

Ok I think I have to cut this short now, it got late and I try not to stay awake until fucking 7 AM these days. I feel like I missed a few of the main points I wanted to make but by now I think you get the point that you can feel like you are going to face total annihilation within the next few moments and still get back to normal in very little time. I almost just wrote “Hopefully talking about my own cringe-ass experience helped you with…” and so forth to end this on a light-hearted self-shitting, but that again is part of the problem. Feeling as if your issues are embarrassing, not worthy, juvenile, or to be written off as not serious is no good. I know we joke about this kind of thing to help deal with it, but don’t feel that way for real. AGAIN, YOU’RE WORTH IT. YOU’RE GOOD! YOU’RE WORTH DOING WHATEVER IT TAKES TO FEEL NOT FUCKED UP! GO! 


Go!