#and then those same bitches will FREAK THE FUCK OUT when someone with actual ocd talks about their intrusive thoughts and be like

[amadeusevenstar]

sometimes i forget that i had a unique experience in that i had to have intrusive thoughts explained to me at a very young age bc i had them so severe, so i’ve always known about them and understood how they work, and then i get get surprised by how many people actually have no idea what intrusive thoughts are 😭

[aglimmerintheriver]

How to mentally keep baneful spirits out - no tools required AKA How Not To Give A F*** About the Uninvited

You can find so much info on here and throughout the web about negative entities and protecting yourself from them. Just as there is so much info, there are all of these different perspectives on how our energies associate with them. In this post I hope to cover a lot of different perspectives, as well as some creative methods for dealing with baneful spirits and your own defense magic tool set.

Introduction

A lot of mythical creatures are based in energetic truth- the vampire is aligned with the energy vampire, the evil and feared witch (like in the Witch movie) is aligned with the early-Christian understanding of the Wise People. The word Witch came from Wic, which means ‘Wisdom’ in Germanic languages. Think of anything given malevolent or benevolent power in the media, and you can likely tie it to misconceptions about the witchcraft and pagan community.

In Shonda Rhimes’ “Grey’s Anatomy” there is an episode where Dr. Miranda Bailey talks about how her OCD creates negative, scary fears within the mind that feel so real that they become real, but she also says that if her mind can think up and believe in these terrible, scary things, she can also think up positive things that make her feel better about those fears- things that help create a buffer, to save her from being so afraid. I’m completely blanking on which episode this was, if you know please let me know and I’ll add it in. By bringing this up, I want to point to something that inspired me to write this post: that elasticity of our perception and of the power we hold within ourselves being dependent on our awareness of our power.

All of this to say that this is not a post created for someone experiencing demonic intrusion. I may or may not have experienced this kind of interaction and if I have, I was simply saved by calling on Jesus (holy freaking heck did not expect the Christian god to help me out but he did) and asking that he save my soul from the attack. If you are under demonic attack or believe that you are, please consult a shaman or a witch who knows how to deal with demonic power. My understanding of demons is that they were the very first spirits here, and so they are the oldest of the old and have a lot of power. That’s not to say your power stands no chance against them, but if you feel overwhelmed by the spirits you’re facing, a lot of the times it is helpful not just for our spiritual protection but also for our perception of how safe we are to call on someone outside of us for help- whether that be a deity or other type of spirit we revere as having badass protective strength or another human we believe can help protect us/banish whatever’s in your sphere.

Perception and Reality

What we believe is what we see. Another way to phrase this is, ‘Where the mind goes, your energy flows”, a very famous phrase within the spiritual community (I believe it has Buddhist origins but not sure of who said it first). This is why a lot of witches are recommended to meet with a therapist or psychologist regularly to ensure our mental health is strong. A lot of people within our community believe that mental health creates spiritual gaps wherein baneful spirits can creep in and target us, but others believe that the cause of mental problems is our spiritual health itself. I’m in the camp of believing mental health is important no matter how you see the correlation- taking care of your brain is just as important as keeping up with the rest of your practice. 

Another aspect of protection and magic is not just ‘what we see’ but how. To bring in a little cognitive function theory, someone with extroverted intuition (or Ne) would likely see a situation and the world from twenty or more different lenses. This is like viewing the world through a multi-faceted crystal and being able to look at all these different crystal-edges and see a different distortion. And that’s really what our view is mostly, because it is nearly impossible to go around living your life and be able to see everything EXACTLY as it is. It’s just not reasonable to think you’re going to be able to have a clear lens every time. If you do and if you’ve developed that, please share how you did and help me figure that out haha, but until then I’m going to work with my understanding that our perception is going to have some type of illusion to it.

And here comes what this post has been leading to- the thing I’m excited about. The Imagining, and the power in that imagining. This is mental craft.

The You-Shaped Perception

In focus meditation you’re told that attention to the breath or to one sensation is important, because you’re narrowing your cannon-sized attention to the size of a pinhole. In much the same way, mental magic is about not just changing your lens, but also how you use that lens.

You       can.         do.            Anything.

It’s true. I mean, within physical means, right? You’re only going to fly if you know how to build mechanical wings, so this isn’t some offhanded promise meant halfheartedly. Nope, I mean this with all of me.

The mind is our friend and our enemy. I’m not even a big fan of meditation and yet I know that. It’s that changeable lens we see things through and how we think of them.

Our mind, my friend, is our power.

In speaking of the mind, I am not just thinking about your brain matter, or your reason, or whatever. I’m talking intention (leading to manifestation) and conscious attention to changing our thoughts.

Think something long enough and you start to believe it. Don’t like your thoughts, or how you feel? What thought or visualization would help you feel better?

There are rabbit holes we fall into where we either can’t control our thoughts and feelings due to mental illness and other times when we just don’t want to control them. Sometimes it feels good to be swept away by our own ocean of emotion and madness. It’s part of being human. The former situation (with the rabbit holes) is likely to be helped by a mental health professional and possibly some anti-depressants. The latter can  a p p a r e n t l y  be helped by meditation. 

(Also, did you know that meditation helps grow the gray matter in your brain? Sitting down and just watching your thoughts pass like clouds, allowing your body to rest, opens you up to expanded compassion, self awareness, contemplation, and helps your memory. If anyone is interested in practicing this, I’m going to be working through this free online MBSR/Mindfulness course in the hopes of helping my depression and my powers of intention- it looks like a great resource especially during this time of political and global tension. I believe our souls are deeply connected to one another and also to the overall soul of the world. Everything that happens in it is something we collectively experience and all of the stress along with this social isolation that the majority of us are experiencing is incredibly traumatizing. I highly recommend checking this out and seeing how it affects you over a few weeks’ time: https://palousemindfulness.com/ )

The point I’m trying to make here is that 98 times out of 100 times, YOU control your perception. And that’s a very empowering and creative thing. Especially when you identify as a witch 😄

gif of Joaquin Phoenix as the joker with a smiling mask on, then pulling up the mask and grinning.

DAMN TABITHA JUST GET TO THE POINT ALREADY

Okay okay. Here’s my point.

You can use creativity in your craft. You know this already. But you don’t need a book of spells (they’re fun to read though) and you don’t need the latest books on psychic magic. You can seriously just use your magical brain.

Intention is everything. Your natural intuitive powers are where your strength lies- I’d say it’s the key to unlocking whatever the heck you want in life. 

Look at your life like it is a children’s story book or movie, alright? It sounds stupid but please stay with me if you made it this far, because I think this is where it gets good. You know how the main character faced this seemingly impossible task or challenge, and they didn’t know how they’d do it but they did it anyway? Things just worked out for them, either because they did some work to help meet their goal and they fought to believe in themselves, or because the writer(s) wanted to throw them some tools that would help them easily get their goal.

You’re the main character and you’re the author of your story. And not only are you the author, but you’ve got all these spirits helping you co-author what unfolds in your life. So it doesn’t matter if there’s a damn fire-breathing knife-throwing monster standing on top of you while you sleep because in your witch brain, all you need to do is say “I am stronger than you will ever be. I am the apex predator” and watch that nasty bugger fucking deflate.

What is the most empowering thing is realizing that you are worth fearing, yourself.

Now this isn’t an excuse to take on a bad-bitch persona and mess your life up. Don’t go around hexing people willy nilly, please. Don’t think you can conjure a demon and be able to control it.

Just know that you can control yourself and the space you’re in. Cause you a badass, bitch.

An actual example from my real life

I have a little known disorder called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Essentially it’s scary AF because I have dislocations on the daily and they’re painful and honestly, it’s the bane of my existence. 

That’s not even exaggerating haha.

So along with it comes a lot of second guessing self worth, because of how it’s perceived and how I’m perceived because I’m a lady with EDS. The questions I’ve fielded, the conversations I’ve had, the experiences I’ve had to deal with as a result of it are utterly ridiculous (sometimes, downright despicable). 

One day I was talking to my therapist about self-perception and not feeling strong enough to face life with my handicap, and she asked me to point out the strengths it’s encouraged in me. I was able to point to a few things and while I did, I could see Brigid beside me and this oak shield forming around my body, and I imagined that every word I spoke, every good quality I have grown from having my disorder, made that shield stronger.

There are the times when I rabbit hole and I forget what that armor means and looks like. I forget that it’s there. But inevitably, something happens that would normally feel like it was undermining me and instead, I remember that oak shield and Brigid’s protective, loving energy, and I remember how expansive it feels to see myself as being worth this life and as having valuable traits to offer to the world. That’s when I see that shield again.

As you can see this isn’t only for spirits, but it applies even in those situations too. I’ll detail my channeling session that ended with calling on Jesus another time haha as this is getting quite long. To wrap this up:

TL;DR: “How not to give a f*** about unwanted spirits”

- Decide not to give a f***

- Decide what you will give a f*** about

- Find a couple practices for protection that you like and stick with them

- Know what clairs you have that are strongest (and if none feel that strong right now, that’s perfectly normal. Don’t put pressure on yourself, just enjoy exploring how your intuition works and pay attention without obsessing (or try not to obsess anyways). You have time to experiment with intuition, I’ll try to find some good sources for this and write something for those of you frustrated with figuring out where your skills lie or how to use them.

- Know that they’re working, that you’re a freaking badass witch, and that nothing can come into your space without earning your wrath (which can just be a GTFO and a call on your fave deity if you like)

A lot of the time, spirits who show up don’t actually have any dominion to stay. You have the power. You own the space, you own YOUR space (the space of your body). So own that you own it and do it with certainty. Feel the POWAH haha.

Sources mentioned:

https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2011/01/eight-weeks-to-a-better-brain/

[kaspbrak-tozier-reddie]

I Swear, Bill

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of blood, slight mentions of Reddie and Benverly

Requests opened

———————————————————————

It was a normal night, Patty was finishing up dinner and Stanley was doing a puzzle in light of stimulating his mind.

As he went to place a piece into place, his phone buzzed on the glass table, scaring him. It was an unknown number from Maine. “Hello, this is Stanley Uris.” Stan answered.

“Stan it’s Michael Hanlon from Derry.” The unknown caller responded.

Stan’s mind tried to recall, Derry? Where had I - oh. Oh shit!

“Mike, Oh My God! It’s been what 30 years? What’s up man?!”

“27 actually. But unfortunately it’s not good news.”

Stan almost immediately dropped the phone once he hung up. He had a good life, he didn’t want to return. He had a wife, a good job, a lovely house, wealthy. Why would he want to go back to that ghastly place?! Sure there was some great memories, the Losers, the quarry, Bill. But the bad outweighed the good.

Pennywise

Pennywise was back and terrorising Derry?! Stan couldn’t give two shits about it but this was a chance to see his friends.

“Patty, I’m just going to have a shower.” Stan called to his wife, while he was half way up the stairs.

He turned the tap, for the bath, on and got out a razor blade. He didn’t want to but everything that was coming back to him pushed on his mind. It was overwhelming but then he thought back to Bill.

“Oh lord! I’m just as stupid as fucking Richard!” Stan whispered to himself. He placed the razor blade back where he found it and simply just had a bath. “I swear, Bill. I’ll come back.”

**

It was a 2 day trip for Stan. He knew he missed the happy reunion before the bullshit that was to follow.

Stanley pulled up at the only inn in town. It was maybe just as old as he was as it was a newish inn back when he was a kid and now here it was 27 years later. The paint was chipping and asbestos was obviously laced in with the paint. Great, he thought, I’ll probably have cancer from breathing that shit in. Maybe Eddie is also freaking out, he was a hypochondriac afterall.

He checked into a room and walked up the stairs only to hear screams. He ran up and was faced with a bleeding Eddie, a Beverly who looked like she was about to pass out, a Richie who was concerned for his life long crush (literally) and was pissed off at whoever did that to Eddie and Ben who had no clue what happened.

“Stan?!” Ben asked.

“Oh my god Stan! We thought you weren’t coming!” Bev chimed.

“Yeah yeah hi Stanley Urine, it’s great to see you again but can we focus on Eddie who was almost fucking killed!” Richie huffed.

“Ah, still the same old pining Trashmouth.” Stan retorted.

“What?!” Eddie demanded, confused with what Stan had said.

“Been a day and you still haven’t told the fella.” Richie was about to throw hands at Stan’s comment. “Gee Rich thought you got some balls after you kissed him at graduation and asked him out!” Richie removed himself from Eddie and was about to hit Stan but Bev and Ben stepped in between them.

“You’re one to talk. What happened with you and Bill? Never told him your feelings?”

Stan recoiled and walked in shame towards his room.

He loved Patty, she was great. She was everything he ever wanted. Even though she didn’t cook often, she was a fantastic chef. But then there was Bill.

Stan’s heart pounded whenever he saw Bill’s photo in a bookshop advertising his latest book. He always wondered why Bill looked familiar and now he knows.

Stan realised his crush on the ringleader back in senior year of high school. It was only minor at first and thought it was just one of those man crush things that will pass.

But as time went on, Stan was turning down girls left right and centre in hopes that Bill would notice him.

Sure enough graduation came and Stan worked up the courage to finally tell Bill but Bill had gotten himself a girlfriend a few weeks prior.

He had watched Ben and Bev kiss while getting their robes. Bill kiss his new girlfriend during Stan’s valedictorian speech. And finally Richie kiss Eddie deeply during the hat toss.

He could’ve sworn that Richie and Eddie got together and same with Ben and Bev but clearly that never happened. Or maybe it did but the further away they got from Derry the more they forgot.

As Stan forgot about Bill, he found himself saying yes to more dates and finally settled on a nice woman in his final year of college and married her 4 years after. No other man was as attractive as Bill was back when they were in high school. Or maybe it was just a man crush.

A knock on the startled him, making him jump a little. “Stan, we’re going to Neibolt.” Ben said, “Bill’s gone there already.”

“Okay.” Stan called back.

He had to quickly get his shit together before going. He had to be in the right mind to face tge blasted clown.

*

As they all walked to Neibolt, Stan got massive anxiety. Flashbacks of the 7 of them standing in front of the boarded up abandoned house. “Eddie, do you have the asthma puffer still?” Stan asked.

“No.” Eddie replied, “all I’ve got is an empty one that I’m throwing in as part of the ritual.”

“I have his spare.” Richie replied. Eddie watched as Richie handed Stan the inhaler.

“Did you make a stop at the pharmacy to get that?!”

“No, I’ve held onto it after high school. I couldn’t part with it, I never knew why.” Richie shrugged. The spare puffer had no expiration date but it’s ingredients proved that it would never go off. So Stan took a few puffs.

“Oh my god! Just admit your feelings to each other!” Stan yelled.

Eddie and Richie looked at each other in horror. It wasn’t a secret that they liked each other and Stan’s birdwatching hobby and attention to detail (his OCD in other words) helped him realise the signs. The signs that Richie and Eddie liked each other. It was also the same with Ben towards Bev and in the end Beverly to Ben.

“Bill you don’t have to do this alone!” Bev stated as soon as they reached the gate.

“You guys didn’t have to come. I want to kill this fucking clown!” Bill huffed. Classic Bill, always the hero.

“He didn’t stutter once.” Richie muttered like he had 27 years prior. “Bill. You made us walk through shitty water, you punched me in the fucking face when we were kids. You also made me beat the living shit outta the clown to save your sorry ass!”

“We’re killing this motherfucking clown once and for all, with you!” Eddie finished.

The 7 grown adults entered the building. It was worse than Stan remembered. There was dark green goop everywhere coming from upstairs. Parts of the stairwell were gone as were some of the floor.

Richie had said something to the whole group but Stan was too caught up in his regret to hear it. Just like it was back in the day, he didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want to go down into the sewers. The only time he voluntarily went into the house was when Eddie, Richie and Bikl were attacked which led to a fight between Richie and Bill because of Eddie almost bejng killed.

As the group went down the well, 1 by 1, Stan tried to regain his courage he had when he left his home. He knew that if he didn’t find it soon, he’d be killed in a heartbeat.

He watched as Bill stopped walking for a split second, so that he could walk with Stan. “You didn’t have to Bill.” Stan whispered.

“I wanted to, besides you weren’t there last night.” Bill retorted. “Tell me what you got up to.”

“Well, I became an accounted, I married a wonderful woman and have a beautiful house. You?”

“I became a writer and I married Audra.” Bill said. So that was the girl that Bill started seeing in high school. Great! “But I’m not happy.”

“What?! Bill?”

“I love Audra but there’s always been someone else that I’ve loved. He’s a renown birdwatcher but I don’t know if he still is. He had this lovely dirty blonde hair that could pass off as brown in certain lighting.”

“Bill I -” Stan was cut off by seeing a rise in the water levels. It was bare back when they defeated the clown the first time.

Stan stood back as he watched all the others swim towards the mound of wood in the centre of the sewer. But Bev was pulled under, Stan’s instincts kicked in and he dove after Bev as did everyone but Eddie.

*

After the ritual failed and everyone came back together aftrr facing their fears. Well Bev, Ben, Richie and Eddie. Richie was put into the deadlights. “Hey asshole!” Eddie screamed, he aimed a fence post, that Bev had broken off, and threw it into the clown’s mouth.

Richie dropped but Stan knew what woukd happen and by the look on Richie’s face, he knew too.

Next thing Stan knew, he was bolting towards Eddie, pushing him off Richie and moving the two men away just as the claw from the clown’s spider like body came down. Richie escaped with a small puncture to his forearm but he too was safe.

“We need to make him small.” Eddie said. “He could resize himself but we need to find a way to make him small and weak.”

“He didn’t like it when I called him a ‘sloppy ass bitch’.” Richie noted.

“You’re just a clown! Nobody fucking likes you! You’re a motherfucking loser!” Stan started screaming. More and more insults left his mouth, none of the losers could say much as they watched Stan’s confidence grow.

Richie ripped off a leg and started wacking Pennywise with it. As Pennywise deflated, Bill grabbed the supernatural being’s heart and popped it. IT shattered and the walls started collapsing.

*

They all ran far from the Neibolt house and down to the Quarry. “Before we go in, I’d like to show you all something.” Richie announced. They all followed him to the kissing bridge, not too far from where they were.

There in big block letters was a ‘R + E’ the E was faint but there. Stan watched on and looked at Bill, but wasn’t smiling at what was happening, his face was pulled in a frown.

“Bill?” Stan questioned.

“Audra ... she uh. She was taken by IT.” Bill started. “They found her car at the gas station in town, and her uh, her body looked as though someone had eaten her heart.”

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry Bill!” Stan hugged his best friend.

“Yeah but um, seeing that Richard has gotten his confidence. I feel like I should tell this man.”

“Dude your wife has just died!”

“I know but I was still going to tell this man and divorce Audra.” Stan was slightly uncomfortable, he knew Bill was talking about him but he loved Patty. Although any feeling that Stan had towards Bill, wasn’t completely gone.

“Bill I’m married and so are you, technically.”

Stan quickly caught up to the others who were waiting for Stan and Bill to show up so they could jump as a group.

“You okay?” Mike asked.

“No, Bill admitted his feelings towards me but we’re both married and I don’t want a divorce.” Stan admitted.

“For godsake! You wanted him throughout all of senior year.” Ben said.

“We get it, you love Patty but you love Bill.” Richie said.

“Choose who makes you happy. Don’t listen to these dickwads.” Eddie stated.

His first thought as he pulled out the razor was Bill. The first person he mentally apologised to was Bill. The person he was most excited to see was Bill. As much as he loved Patty, she was way down the list of people he was apologising to.

In fact she wasn’t on the list at all! On his mental apology list was first Bill (his crush), then Richie (his first ever best friend), Eddie (his second best friend) and then Ben, Bev and Mike who later followed in the Summer of ’89.

As Bill finally entered the clearing of the cliff, Stan kissed him. He knew who made him happy and as much as he wanted it to be Patty, Bill was there for him in his moments of need. Much like Richie for Eddie.

“You’re my Richie to my Eddie.” Stan said to Bill, loud enough for the Losers to hear. Bill cracked a smile and kissed him again.

“Oh good lord! I’m offended!” The Trashmouth said fakely and placed a hand over his heart.

“Beep, beep, Richie.” Eddie said. “We jumping or what?!”

[herecomesnaya]

oh my gout.... i clapped my hand over my mouth. one of my fav authors is autism and adhd (MJAYBE) and ocd and depression/anxiety LIKE ME!?+ (crying emoji) (crying emoji) (crying emoji) (hands clapping) (the vegetable that looks like a penus) that's so cool! what the fuck!!! i could bite a chunk out of my table right now (but i'll settle on shutting the fridge's door ten times and drink seven gulps of my water instead and worry about anoning correctly hahahahah FU) sorry this is just. really

this is so cool. and you work at the same time and you write fics regularly and talk to strangers online? you're insane. not like that UH but, like. in the good way, you know? like cool? wow. im sutnned. i'm 21 you're evne.... wht. i was also just checked for personality disorder and possible bipolar etc at the hospital. if you need advice on autismming and adhding and that jazz i'll gladly send you some links or smth? or info? adivce? if i have them... somewhere. i'm professional autism everyda

yyyeaah, i *tips chin* actually had a depressive psychosis and rolling eyes to the ceiling for 6 months, and between that 2 out, then 3 after that in confinement of-sort. not to brag or anything ;). it's taken me lots of time to recover and i'm studying again, was out for two years when it happened, but. trust me, all that jazz, that rodeo-- takes time. you have to learn yourself all over again. you have to learn how to human your way. and think back on all you knew, and reconstruct. build.

there's a quote i'd like you to know. it goes like this, ''it is no measure of health to be functional in a profoundly sick society.'' by jiddu krishnamurti, i think

AS WELL AS!!!! ''true positivity is not the absence of negativity, but to deal with the negative in a positive way.'' i think that's how the quote goes, but i'm not sure.... idk who said it.... maybe someone whispered in nmy ear in the walmart.. eyah

i just Want You To Know that this is seriously so fucking cool.... that you're genetically enhanced yet disadvantaged hybrid cyborg daddaya.... WROW. it's really made my day. and you write so amazing. now i know WHY *slams hand on table*. it's night, tedchnically. but honestly, now my goal as a villain will be scissoring with a colleague of choice on every rich man's bed in gotham city,

either way! im heading to bed but, i just wanted to say, really say, i hope i haven't freaked you out or anythong, but i really wanna wish you luck. i really believe in you. this is really cool. sounds so fucking cheesy but.. we love dick che... ok. bedtime. but seriously. i really admire what you do and how you hold up. all that. just keep on keeping on. thank you for being you and doing what you do! =)

awww, thanks so much for all this, anon! I will admit, it’s been a struggle sometimes (especially since this genetic disorder o’ mine has disabled me physically, along with the Fun Mental Stuff), but I’m determined to make things work despite my limitations! I like to say God knew I was too powerful on my own, so had to nerf me... if I was able-bodied and neurotypical, it’d be over for these bitches

I’m definitely in the “reconstruct/rebuild” part of my life, lol. I spent all of my late teens and most of my early 20s in a job that I thought I was gonna stay at for my whole life, and then my disability happened, and now I’m self-employed and trying to balance my health and my ability to make money (since the government won’t help me in any measurable way) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

it’s definitely difficult! not being able to do as much as I used to physically, and being held back by mental health issues, is pretty annoying (and that’s not even getting into all the stuff outside of my control, like politics and family matters and whatnot). I wanna talk to people online and write tons of fic and do a lot of work, and just generally be a functional person! but I’m definitely gonna remember those quotes of yours, lmao, they’re a real mood

but either way, I’m glad there are people out there that enjoy the stuff I do put out, and that I can be some kind of an inspiration just by doing what I can do right now! hopefully things will get even better in the future. it’s the roaring 20s, right?? time to spread our wings and get things on track!

so thanks for writing, and thanks to you and everyone else who’s sticking with me during this time! I know I don’t interact or update quite as often as I used to when I first started out, but every message I get and every like button y’all click or whatever really helps. truly. I just hope I can continue to grow and give you all even better content in the future!!

[keytextsfromkh]

Dream Drop Distance: Traverse Town

- I like how at this point, they're not even trying to pretend to be a fun and happy game. This is third act-Disney movie shit and two people are already dead.

- ...My name is...Bongo.

- No, I prefer Bongo. Sounds more fun and fancy free.

- And that's when you realized that everything up to this point was nothing more than a simulation on the "What if?" Machine. A man can dream...a man can dream.

- Yeah, when we're out in the middle of the ocean, we'll just call Aquaman and he'll save us...he's owned by Disney right?

- (Ursula’s Arrival) Sora, it has begun...it cannot be stopped.

- Wow, Riku's kind of a weakling, when /Sora's/ able to keep his footing and you're tossed overboard, that's pretty bad.

- It's ok Riku, that's just Hades releasing the Titans from...well, Hades. (Where were the Titans held prisoner in the movie?)

- That's got to be a low point in Ursula's career, when she's nothing more than a tutorial boss and doesn't really have story relavance.

- Now /this/ is the time when you should be asking if any of this is for real or not.

- And that question is: How do they get the little m's on the m&m's.

- I suppose that's an interesting question too...show off.

- If that were the case then the challenges of my past have just gave my darkness a huge advantage in /that/ battle.

- (Regarding Xehanort) He's basically Ganon, he'll always come back to fuck us over even if the plot doesn't call for it.

- Well I'm here to tell you that you're not to be cocky little shits and you'll be considered Keyblade Masters when /I/ tell you, you got that you little whippersnappers? God, I'm tired, Mickey, get my walking stick and Donald, get the liniment oil, you're going to be rubbing it into my creases all night.

- Well it is a mix between Disney and Final Fantasy, I'm sure flying colours won't be the strangest thing to appear.

- So Sora opens a keyhole and now he's what, flying through the subspace highway?

- I've had my clothes changed once before and yet I'm still freaked out that it's happened again.

- (Neku’s Arrival) Oh thank god, some much required emo cynicism.

- Maybe it's under his glove, have you thought of that.

- I'm so toally a player, I've been with all the bitches and I can do like 5 Fortnite dances flawlessly.

- This must be Neku's own personal hell, although considering his partner is (probably) Shiki, this is like double hell.

- I'm loving the music although I'm hating the controls, why isn't X jump, it seems kind of backwards.

- Wow, someone with an actual last name, you really aren't from this world are you?

- I mean if I can handle Pokemon, I think I can handle their Disney counterparts.

- And there's my dirty mind at work again. You're telling me that I have to "unlock" seven sleeping holes to gain a great power. It's a good thing I'm not easily offended/paranoid or I'd think that this game was secretly promoting date rape.

- A great wall keeping all the worlds seperate? Again, it's probably a good thing this game originally came out in 2012 or it would be quite suspect.

- (Young Xehanort pulls some sick parkour moves) You said specifically, no over the top acrobatics to prove how cool you are.

- Obstacles: Breakable except when they're not.

- Joshua: King of innuendos.

- Oh god, Joshua's about to spend an hour talking about the multiple worlds theory.

- He wants to find Rhyme but Riku wants to hear reason.

- (What Joshua spends his time dreaming of) And they all centre around one adorable little crankypants

- If Riku is a dreamer, would that make Joshua a dreamweaver and can he get Riku through the night, maybe even reach the morning light?

- At least they don't give you another tutorial.

- Who knew Beat required a self-esteem team and who knew they would be so cute and colourful.

- Ok, I'm calling it now, the Sleeping Worlds don't have oxygen, they have a constant atmosphere of xanax.

- In hindsight, considering the powers of the X-Blade and the requirements of it's construction, this could be seen as a very bad idea and those who came up with it should have been fired.

- So the moral of the story is: Piracy causes giant universe-shattering wars.

- So Riku was just using the keyblade for it's intended purpose, he really wasn't a villain, he was just doing what felt natural.

- Wait, so the letterbox is alive? What other things in this place are alive?

- So, this is the mail room from Monster's Inc.?

- Anyone else think "Ice Dream cone" sounds like an edible? Like it's laced with LSD?

- So it looks like we've entered the residential district of Traverse Town and considering the graffiti, the fact that part of it is obviously based on The World Ends With You and the idea of how Sleeping Worlds operate, I think this is a part of Disney that they want to ignore, it's a part of them that fell into Darkness and they want it to linger there, it's early 90s Disney. In this twisted town, we won't meet Goofy, we'll meet Max from Goof Troop, we won't see Huey,Dewey and Louie from DuckTales, it'll be their iterations from Quack Pack and I think I know who the final boss of this world will be. Someone who represents the 90s and all things EXTREME! Someone who's connected to Disney but is nothing more than a twisted, vulgar imiation of the real form. This final boss will be Dippy Fresh.

- I will say the new parts of Traverse Town look amazing, it's like they really get that mix of SE's anime stylings and Disney's wonder and magic.

- Again, as I've said before, Sora's just one huge OCD bubble.

- Where the fuck was Rhyme during Chain of Memories, she loses her memories and acts like it's no big deal and then starts talking in fortune cookie sayings.

- So Sora has teleporting powers now? Is that another little extra when in the sleeping worlds?

- Seriously, the music is really damn good in this, the boss music may be a lot more upbeat than in previous games but it has this carnival-like heroic vibe going for it.

- Well it still is Disney so I guess "friend" is the best we can do for now.

- We're pulling an Inception here Sora, please try to keep up.

- (Joshua’s a very humble person) I'm God, it's no biggie really.

- It's Xehanort: The Wonder Years

- (Regarding Shiki being saved by Riku) You could at least let me give you a blowjob as payment.

- I guess after Selphie pulled a #metoo on Tidus, Riku isn't taking any chances.

- Unless this is a Proud Mode thing, one major issue I'm already having with this game is that there are too many enemies. Like I know you can run into a pack of monsters every 5 steps but this is overdoing it just a tad. It doesn't help that we're already fighting some of the heavy hitters in the first world rather than waiting a world or two before bringing in the fat fuckers.

- Oh fuck, he turned her into a cat doll.

- (Beat knows when things are half-baked) If anyone would know anything about being baked, it's you.

- Speaking of which, where are the reapers? They could bring some much needed fun right about now.

- Now that's a smart idea, let's take a huge boss with huge arms and put the fight in a small room where it can grab shit and whack you with them.

- Now there's a missed opportunity, why do Sora and Riku get the same Keyblades, it would have been interesting if each one got their own unique keyblade based on how their story in that world plays out.

- So Joshua is Sin from Final Fantasy X?

- Ok, that spinning thing is kind of distracting and kind of dumb

- Joshua died on his way to his home planet.

- (Yen Sid can be really dick-ish sometimes) I'm kind of a dick that way.  

[darkcivet]

Of Unsound Mind

A GaaSaku Fanfic

Alternate Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Gaara. Summary: It's only when her life has crumbled down around her that Sakura finally finds some kind of peace. GaaSaku. Modern AU. Rated M just in case. Warning: Psychologically dark elements. (No blood or gore.) Sexual themes.

There were many words used to describe Sakura Haruno during her fall from grace.

Anti-social. Cynical. Violent. Bossy. Obnoxious. Friendless.

And those were the friendly examples.

There was also, whore, bitch, psycho, tight-arse, freak, and various interpretations of the hysterical woman stereotype.

It was depressing enough to be called these names, and more heart breaking to embody them. But the worst part was that they came from people she’d never have suspected. From people she loved and had trusted for years. Some hadn’t even waited until her anger had reached its crescendo before writing her off.

She’d lost her cushy office, her friends, her aghast family, and all hope of returning to her former life; Sakura was at least grateful that her OCD meant she had a decent amount of money saved up for this seemingly unending rainy day.

It was in moments like this, that she took pride in her tight-arse ways. It was a cold slap in the face in the wake of the reality of her responsibility to clean up her mess.

And somehow, sitting on a chair, next to others arranged in a dysfunctional, sparsely spaced circle and being lectured on the meaning of her anger issues did not strike her as particularly constructive. But Sakura had no intention of reacquainting herself with her inner demons, so she had to try to put it behind her.

For years, she’d built a damn in her mind to keep her inner, sanctimonious persona quiet, but it had all come crashing down several months ago when she’d been tossed aside for a more available girlfriend. A seemingly innocuous event that many others went through and came out the other end unbroken, but not Sakura Haruno. She snapped like a proverbially twig over a roaring fire. It was like letting a beast out of a cage that had been perfectly crafted to contain it. White hot rage; she had no control of herself, and for a short while, all Sakura knew was the burning, angry harpy that lay within her mind.

The need to make someone bleed for it.

Now, she had no-one. No friends. No family. No glimmer of a hopeful future. Her inner had driven them all away.

That was why she was here of all places. A group anger management session; the judge had been clear that evading these weekly torture sessions would land her back in Konoha Psychiatric Hospital. She couldn’t go back there. Everyone there was crazy. It would drive her insane.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

Doctor Kato – possibly the hospital’s most likeable tight-arse. She was always friendly enough to Sakura, but the pinkette could never fully respect someone who played by the rules so religiously. Squashing herself inside a tin can and answering, “how high?” whenever her superiors said, “jump”. It boggled the mind.

She sighed, sitting up straight in an effort to not be called out. Again. Today was her first session in a group and this whole anger management thing was just another part of her community service – though the question of who she was supposed to be helping right now, was anyone’s guess.

She forced herself to listen as Shizune Kato started her morning sermon.

“Anger management is the process of learning to recognise your anger for what it is and control it. Anger is an emotion we use to mask feelings of fear, inadequacy, guilt, confusion, depression, hurt, or loneliness. It is not uncommon for us to fall into this trap when we feel too helpless to do anything else.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and regressed to slouching in her chair. Shizune tended to drone on about the definition of things. As both a Clinical Psychologist and a nationally recognised motivational speaker, she was the enemy of succinctness

Sakura smiled at that.

She’d been acquainted with the brunette for years, but never truly known her. Despite her pleasant yet oddball nature, Shizune wasn’t the most charming person Sakura had ever met, especially one-on-one. They’d both been mentored by the great Lady Tsunade Senju – an actually motivational person who didn’t like to get up on podiums and talk about it.

Sakura interned with Tsunade straight out of high school; she’d been interested in psychology for years, because of her inner, fascinated with the inner workings of the human mind. Keeping her inner quiet helped her pass as “normal”, but she always got the impression that Tsunade knew her favourite protégé had issues.

Their bi-weekly “let’s build a snowman” sessions were a dead giveaway.

“Sakura?”

The pinkette snapped out of her internal musings and rattled off a few facts about herself while keeping it impersonal. Shizune gave her an odd look and Sakura sat up straight again, suddenly self-conscious.

But she couldn’t help but lose focus again as the brunette pointed to each of her patients in turn, asking for introductions. Even though this was her first group session, she knew some of these people anyway, from her time in hospital. There was the girl who’d run over her boyfriend when she found out she was pregnant. The older man who beat up the teenage boy who was screwing his trophy wife. Another girl who blamed God for her voices and repeatedly stole from and trashed her family Church. Not to mention the guy who attacked a mime because he wouldn’t give him directions.

Some Sakura knew only by face, but it was a safe bet they were all violent in some way.

But there was this one guy that everyone seemed to be giving a wide berth. He had this dark aura around him, like a solid barrier made of hate and bloodlust. His blood red hair seemed to finish off the look of death and wrath nicely. Not to mention that he was the only person she’d ever seen with a kanji tattoo on their forehead of all places.

“Gaara?”

Sakura watched the others suddenly become uninterested; she imagined Shizune only called on him because those were the rules.

The redhead grunted out his name and something inaudible; she caught the words, “temper”, “family”, and “fucking”. Shizune didn’t press any further.

Sakura couldn’t take her eyes off Gaara as the introductions continued – some clearly more enthusiastic than others.

Based on appearance alone, she gathered he fit into the goth stereotype, but she’d never been much of a profiler. Her field of study was psychiatric rehabilitation and Sakura had just been promoted before her life went to shit. She was rising fast for someone her age. And enjoying the perks that came with a higher paying job.

‘I miss my office.’

She blinked heavily as Shizune started talking again.

Gaara swivelled in his chair suddenly and unintentionally caught Sakura’s eye. Though clearly startled by her attention on him, he didn’t look away. She felt her face warm under his stare. She’d heard that, during his first therapy session, he threw a chair out the window and broke the psychiatrist’s teeth when the man had tried said “hello”. They said the shrink needed counselling after that. Though plausible, she highly doubted that had happened – he wouldn’t have been considered for group sessions, if he was that easy to rile up, surely.

“Who wants to talk about why they’re here, first?”

Shizune’s voice snapped Sakura to reality and she tore her eyes away from Gaara to listen to the pregnant girl whine about men and how unfairly the “quacks” had been treating her, but she could still feel his eyes burning a hole in her.

His dark aura shifted, and he seemed a bit content then, to Sakura. She chanced a look at him; he didn’t look ready to kill her. His reputation had to be wrong, then. She had to remind herself how easily rumours could get out of hand.

Unlike her therapy companions, Sakura had a degree in psychology. She had a many great deal of things that were no longer important anymore. Like people in her life.

“Sakura?”

She mentally cursed herself for not paying attention and sat up straight, realising she’d slumped again. “Y-yeah.”

Shizune smiled at her. “Why don’t you share something more in depth with the group.”

She wasn’t here for her health, that’s for sure.

Sakura cleared her throat, avoiding Gaara’s gaze; it was getting unnerving. “Um. I’m doing these sessions as part of my community service.” At Shizune’s insistent look, she added, “I... uh, had a breakdown.”

“That blows.” One of the girls gave her a sympathetic look.

Sakura just stared back at her. The old her would’ve smiled back and maybe engaged her in conversation; the new and improving version didn’t have the energy for that shit.

“Moving on.”

Shizune rounded off the session and they started to file out. Sakura noticed that Gaara wasn’t asked to add anything more in depth. She sighed and stood, stretching out her muscles and keeping her attention settled solely on herself; a certain redhead was still staring.

“Same time next week!” Shizune called.

Sakura hurried out, unwilling to remain under such close scrutiny any longer.

This group therapy thing was going to be exhausting.

 .:.

 “Got a light?”

Two weeks later, Sakura decided to bite the proverbially bullet. He’d been staring at her on and off, and she had finally worked up the nerve to approach him. In between bouts of self-loathing and therapeutic jogs along the beach, she’d been keeping up-to-date in the world of mental health. Call her an optimist, but she figured it would help her get back into it once all this community service was over.

It beat picking up rubbish – that was on her morning schedule.

Gaara was Shizune’s problem case, but Sakura wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to see if anything she did or said could make a difference. This would go a long way to seeing if she still had what it takes to be a Psychologist. Obviously, it would be in a non-professional capacity, so she couldn’t be reprimanded for it.

In her planning stages, Sakura noticed he took the time to smoke both before and after the sessions, like he was bolstering himself for battle and then rewarding himself for not annihilating everyone. That was a start. So, she used their common ground to start a dialogue.

Without removing the cigarette from his mouth, he looked up at her question, stared at her for a second, and then nodded his head. She swore to herself up and down that she would quit these disgusting things one day. But that day was not today.

He tossed a red lighter at her and grunted out, “this is going to kill you. You should give it up.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes until after he turned away. “I will if you do.”

He didn’t respond.

They’d just spent an hour in a gruelling session, so he clearly needed to unwind.

Sakura took a seat two feet from him, overlooking staff parking; they were far enough away from the front doors of the hospital to not be called out, but she somehow figured Gaara was less concerned with that rule and more concerned with solitude.

She stayed quiet, settling in and lighting up. He didn’t ask for the lighter back straight away and she waited until she was ready to leave before returning it. Gaara’s pale fingers stretched out to grasp it, and she made a note of how he deliberately avoided her touch, before standing to leave.

Slow and steady; she didn’t want to startle him. It was a good start. His moods during the sessions was always dark, but some days he was clearly holding on by a thread. For all the darkness and chaos that stormed inside Sakura’s head, she had a feeling what he kept bottled up inside was worse.

 .:.

 The following week, Sakura beat Gaara to his usual smoking spot, prior to their weekly torture session. She didn’t light up during the six days they had off and felt no urge to do so until she drove into the Konoha Hospital parking lot and remembered what she was about to do.

Yeah, the dark aura around Gaara still intimidated her. And the mindless prattling of her fellow therapy inmates made her want to slap their heads together and tell them to grow up. The redhead continued to stare at her during the sessions and then ignore her when they fell into silent, mutual cancer inducing stupors. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself.

One month on from their first interaction, she decided to finally break their monotony of silence.

And then chickened out when his head snapped around and he stared at her, suddenly, like he knew it was coming. Jade orbs stared blankly at her and she summoned her courage, mentally berating herself. She’d come this far.

“I was thinking...” Sakura drifted off; his eyes widened, and lips twitched. The cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth jerked with the movement. “...of smoking something a little stronger next week.”

He blinked slowly, almost owlishly, and then looked away from her. She almost continued talking several times, waiting for him to respond.

“Don’t do that.”

“I just–”

“You’ll just get sent back to the loony bin.”

And that was the end of that.

Sakura felt herself flush with anger; she wanted to rant and rage at him, tell him he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing instead. It wasn’t her intention to fly off the handle at him. She just needed to focus. The object of her rush of anger sat quietly as she calmed herself.

And just like that, she was calm again. She sighed, put out her cigarette and turned to face him. He was looking back at her, those intense eyes curious; she almost forgot what he’d said to annoy her. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

It took a few seconds to sink in, but before she could formulate a response, he stormed away from her and back toward the front doors. A full ten seconds later, Shizune’s voice drifted over to her and Sakura knew she’d lectured Gaara on the rules involving smoking near government buildings. There was no way, however, that Shizune was brave enough to confiscate them.

Sakura joined them and was both annoyed and confused when Gaara pointedly ignored her for the first time in weeks.

‘Men.’

 .:.

 Sakura arrived early the following Wednesday, and sat in her car, writing in her journal. She wanted to get down everything she was feeling before heading in there – last week, Shizune had suggested this when the pinkette let it slip that she’d almost lost her temper again. She hadn’t had a black out in almost two months. She was getting better.

But Gaara’s attitude was not conducive to her mental health.

The worried look on Shizune’s face bothered Sakura too – she’d figured out that two of her patients were smoking together, outside the hospital and wasn’t amused. That dark aura around Gaara was more powerful than Shizune’s disapproving glare, but the brunette’s made Sakura feel guilty. That was nothing, however, compared to how Sakura was feeling now.

Tsunade’s car was in the lot, today. She was here.

‘Did Shizune go running to shishou about my fascination with Gaara?’

Sakura was torn between annoyance and happiness; it wasn’t their business, but it had been too long since anyone cared if she got herself hurt. Was she supposed to feel angry or comforted? Maybe both? She was a red-faced child wrapped in a warm blanket brandishing a bloody knife with one hand and nursing a cup of hot cocoa with the other.

She wasn’t crazy. She knew she wasn’t. The dark voice inside of her was quiet and she hadn’t lost control in so long. Sakura felt like everything was falling into place. The only hiccup was where Gaara fit into everything. Anyone with eyes could see he was worse off than her – he may never get better – but she didn’t know his history. She didn’t know how bad off he was.

She had to find out, if she had any hope of putting her fascination with him in the proper context.

The tap on her car window startled her, but somehow, she wasn’t surprised to find Gaara’s questioning stare on her; rugged up against the cold, his red hair poking out from under a black beanie, and his breath fogging up her window. She took a moment to truly appreciate how good he looked before he indicated wordlessly behind him – toward their usual smoking spot – and she nodded in acquiescence.

Sakura smiled after he turned to lead the way. It seemed she wasn’t the only one that look forward to these morning rituals.

 .:.

 An hour later, Sakura was trying to sneak glances at Gaara while pretending she wasn’t interested in doing so. Tsunade had taken over the group today, with Shizune nearby taking notes, and the busty blonde was currently questioning Gaara – in a way that no-one else had the balls to do so.

Everyone else normally avoided looking at the emo boy who had a reputation for trying to kill people for looking at him wrong, but today they were staring unabashedly as he was questioned. Like he was an animal in a zoo. His simple, clipped responses delivered in angry undertones that promised pain and retribution didn’t deter Tsunade; his audience was hooked on every word.

When the blonde finally relented, everything went deadly quiet and Sakura found herself alone in watching him. Shizune and Tsunade conferred as the session came to an end and the pinkette forced herself to not get up and follow Gaara as he stormed out.

Murmuring broke out, but she ignored them, making her way over to Tsunade. The blonde hugged her.

“Sakura, it’s been too long.”

She smiled. Her first real smile directed at anyone but Gaara for a while. “Yes, shishou. I’m glad to see you.”

She wanted to question Tsunade – she undoubtedly had information on Gaara that she needed.

Shizune would be against it – that girl had never met a rule she didn’t worship – but Tsunade was the type to indulge her pupils, be they present or past. During her internship with the busty woman, Sakura had often had access to information she wasn’t supposed to know. She trusted her. She knew she wouldn’t repeat anything she read or heard. It was a level of trust Sakura had never had before and was sorely missed in her life.

That “I have no-one” voice in her head was sounding further and further away the longer she felt the warmth of her mentor’s smile on her.

‘How could I ever think shishou would turn on me?’

They both understood mental illness and didn’t judge it.

Tsunade spoke before Sakura had a chance to ask her; that mind reading thing of hers was still annoying, after all these years. “If this is about your sudden interest in a certain redhead, you know I can’t tell you anything.”

A bubble of annoyance swelled in Sakura’s chest, but as her mentor made a show of shuffling her papers, the pinkette forced herself to calm down. Shizune sat nearby, finishing off a few notes; when she was done and left to find something to eat, Tsunade indicated to Sakura to take a seat.

“I want to preface this with I understand,” Tsunade said. “Gaara’s a good-looking boy and you’ve always had a thing for the emotionally closed off type.”

“Shishou–”

“Let me finish.”

Sakura nodded her head, admonished.

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been through so much lately and your life has become a black sinkhole. You’re so cut off and confused; you know you are,” she added, when the pinkette huffed in annoyance. “It’s understandable to find comfort in a kindred soul. But Gaara’s different than you. You should be more careful with him.”

Sakura frowned. “Why?”

Tsunade lowered his head to whisper and the pinkette leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s in his file, but you didn’t hear this from me.”

Sakura nodded; her heart pounding in her chest. Doctor-patient confidentiality was still a thing between doctors, but Tsunade loosening her tongue was motivated purely on a personal level. She’d always thought of Sakura as the daughter she never had.

“What he has is a touch disorder; his anger manifests similar to an extreme case of Skin Hunger.”

Sakura nodded, understanding. Skin Hunger was a yearning to touch, basically; if Gaara’s anger was connected to this, she assumed it meant he lashed out when touched. All awhile craving that touch.

It was interesting.

“Don’t set yourself up for failure with him.”

Sakura frowned. “What do you mean?”

“All I’m saying is that whether your interest is professional or personal, don’t get your hopes up. So far, all observable outcomes from people trying to get close to him have resulted in some form of violence.”

“I already understood: you’re saying he always attacks people who touch him.”

“Or it manifests itself sexually.”

Her eyes widened. She didn’t need to know that part.

Sakura was already checking Gaara out every time he passed in her field of vision. She didn’t need to know that an accidental touch on her part could end with her flat on her back and screaming his name.

She was definitely going to make a point of not touching him.

“He is not a rapist, Sakura, I assure you.” Again, Tsunade was reading her mind. “I spent six months working with him after I was asked to profile him; he’s capable of a great many things, but he isn’t capable of that.”

‘No... he’s not going to force me.’

Sakura knew that, despite her initial concern. He was the type to make her want it. Badly.

‘He already has.’

She closed her eyes for a second, just absorbing everything Tsunade had told her. Her attraction to the redhead had started without her really noticing and escalating into full-blown, make-out session with herself.

It gave her goose bumps and made her never want to go to bed fully clothed again. And strangely, gave her a desperate craving for cheese and ice-cream.

It boggled the mind.

“Then why is he here, among people?” Sakura realised the answer the moment she’d finished asking but had to hear it.

“This is the only thing keeping him out of jail.”

Anger management for most people was a program with steps and slogans and learning about yourself.

And that annoying prayer circle thing.

For people like Gaara, it was avoiding the worst-case scenario of getting locked up and never seeing the light of day again. She felt sorry for him, though she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.

Sakura was torn between continuing her curiosity driven desire to crack him open and give him his space, so he could get through these sessions untouched. She really wanted to pick his brain.

(Must be the therapist in her.)

“Lady Tsunade!”

“That’s my cue.” Tsunade hugged her former apprentice. “Just be careful, Sakura.”

“I will. I promise.”

Sakura stayed in the chair for a few minutes before remembering she was technically standing Gaara up and rushed out to find him. He was leaning against the building, his hands in his pockets, eyes closed, and no cigarette to be found.

She hesitated to disturb him, but as her feet carried her over to the enigmatic redhead, he seemed to come to life and turned to face her. The look he gave her was new; she wasn’t sure if it was calculating or distrustful.

Had he heard her conversation with Tsunade? No... he’d have been too far away, and they were whispering. But her shishou had questioned him pretty intensely and Sakura stayed behind to talk with her afterward. Perhaps he just put two and two together. Her mind went back to what Tsunade had said about being his therapist for a while.

‘They already know each other.’

Maybe he wasn’t as bothered by the questioning as she’d thought.

“I’m not a good person,” he said gruffly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

‘Is there anyone around here that can’t see right through me?’

“Okay...”

He sighed.

They shared sessions once a week, and every time, Sakura followed him outside afterward to ask for either a cigarette or a light. He would grunt one-word answers to her questions and then take off on his Kawasaki without so much as a glance in her direction. But today had gotten under his skin, apparently.

He watched her, waiting to see if she would flee from him.

She gave him a small smile. “I was thinking...”

He scoffed. “You do too much of that.”

“...that maybe we can do an experiment.”

He didn’t ask for clarification, but the question weighed heavily in his eyes.

“I... think maybe we could do that thing Shizune suggested last week. Together, I mean.”

She was too cowardly to put it into words, worried he’d hear the hope in her voice. Basically, Shizune had suggested to all her patients to let their anger out on something constructive – kind of like kickboxing or tae kwon do – in a controlled environment, with a partner. Sakura tried to school her features so Gaara didn’t think she was excited by the idea of getting hot and heavy with him. His calculating stare pierced right through her and he raised a non-existent eyebrow.

“If I let my demon out, it will break you in two.”

He really knew how to end a conversation.

 .:.

 “You ever tried to kill yourself?”

Every week she asked a question, he answered it, then he asked her something, and the cycle went on. It was the only experiment she suggested that he would go along with. Now, with only one more shared group therapy session left, Sakura was feeling the deadline to break through him fast approaching; the end of having him in her life.

She thought of the craziest question she could conjure; the rumours of his violence having escalated to murder lingering on the edge of her mind. And the question blurted itself out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Gaara didn’t look offended though, just nodding his head slowly. After a minute, he asked “you ever killed anyone?”

“No.”

She came close once, though. It wasn’t something she was particularly proud of. It was a line she didn’t want to cross. Even in her darkest moments while her inner was in control, that last breath and final punch to the gut never came. She never did it. It was why she’d been carted off to the loony bin rather than jail.

Sakura was not grateful to her inner, but rather grateful it at least wouldn’t do that.

“It’s almost the same thing,” Gaara said. “Except the pain isn’t yours.”

Her heart was racing now, but she just had to know. “What does it feel like?”

Sakura had no idea what she was expecting from him – perhaps, “horrible” or “it feels like dying”. She held her breath, waiting.

“Only an idiot would ask that.”

She seethed. “Fuck you. It was just a question. Why are you such an arsehole?”

He reached over to her and she stiffened. Gaara gave her a wry grin and plucked the unlit cigarette from her fingers without making physical contact; so absorbed in their game, she hadn’t remembered she was still holding it.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

She huffed. “So, ask.”

“Why are you such an arsehole?”

Sakura sighed. She rubbed her forehead and groaned. His light chuckle startled her. “What’s so funny?”

He waved her cigarette at her patronisingly. “I don’t think you understand the rules of this game.”

“I don’t like this game anymore.”

“You don’t like to lose.”

“What? I’m not losing.” She frowned, realising her slip. “This isn’t a competition.”

He just shrugged.

Sakura glared at him; as usual, he was unfazed. The nerve of him! When he continued to ignore her heated glare and put her smoke in his mouth, she growled. “Fine. I’m an arsehole because it keeps people away who I don’t want to deal with.”

He stopped flicking his lighter to stare at her. “And that’s all?”

“No.”

He gave her a Cheshire grin. “Why else?”

“Why else?”

Gaara nodded and inhaled; shuddering and closing his eyes for a few minutes. He looked like a satisfied cat that had just dismembered a bird. Or maybe a whole flock of them. She could just visualise the speck of blood on the corner of his mouth while his tongue darted out to taste it again.

She shuddered, then shook herself, almost forgetting to answer his question. “I don’t like that goody-two shoes act. I used to play it all the time. It’s annoying. Why are you so pushy?”

“It’s fun. Why were you in the loony bin?”

Sakura bit her lip to keep from snapping something inappropriate at him. It wasn’t until she regained control from her inner that she’d been locked up. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t a game. She’d have thought he, of all people, wouldn’t make light of that.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She offered a small smiled. “No, it’s no worse than me asking you what it feels like to kill someone. I shouldn’t have asked it. I just...”

“Wanted to know.”

“How do you read me so well?”

Gaara shrugged. The truth was, it was like looking into a mirror – one with pink hair and a cute little nose, but a mirror nonetheless. She was a version of himself without the need to tear things apart. He loved that.

Sakura fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She wanted to avoid that murder question, but she didn’t want to ask anything trivial. Everything seemed bland by comparison.

“Why... when did you start smoking?”

He snorted. “Lame.”

“Stop telling me how stupid my questions are and answer me.”

Gaara stared at her blankly. “I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “My turn.”

“Sorry.” Again.

He nodded but said nothing. After a few minutes, she started to fidget. As soon as she opened her mouth to tell him to ask her a question, he spoke.

“When did you start smoking?”

“Talk about lame questions.” She giggled when he glared at her. “Fine. I was nineteen. But I don’t smoke often. Never have. Uh... why–”

“No more simple questions. I’m bored.”

She bit her lip. “I noticed you don’t touch people.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Can I touch you?”

He didn’t stiffen like she thought he would, just stared at her – almost unseeingly. “No. Why do you want to?”

She blushed. “Uh... because...”

He rolled his eyes.

“Craziest place you can imagine having sex.”

“On a plane.” Gaara held her gaze unblinkingly. “The last time you had sex?”

“Uh.” Her face must look like a tomato by now. “Um. Maybe... a year ago.”

Gaara had put out his cigarette (her cigarette, the thief), and was leaning closer to her. She could feel his breath on her skin. She had to get the topic away from sex before she touched him and let him crawl inside her. And die. She would literally die.

“Uh...” She cleared her throat. “Where else in the world would you rather be right now?”

That was a safe topic, surely.

“Inside you.”

‘Fuck me.’

She stuttered. “What happened to you not wanting to touch me?”

“I never said I didn’t want to.”

“I thought–”

“Doctor Senju filled your head with the he can’t touch people routine?”

Sakura growled at him. “Are you accusing her of lying to me?”

“Just skirting around the truth.”

“She warned me to be careful with you.”

“Kittens aren’t supposed to be masochists,” he snarled.

“I’m not a cat.”

“Yes, you are.”

She frowned at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

Gaara smirked devilishly, his fingers now tugging at the top button of her shirt. She made no move to stop him, but Sakura had gone stiff, terrified of the animalistic look in his eyes.

He stood, leaning over her, and shoved her backwards; she’d been sitting on the edge of a concrete garden, hedge flowers at her back. Gaara held her down, climbing over her; she spared only a momentary thought for the fact that her shirt was getting dirty and was laying at an odd angle before gasping. His hand was on her throat; his body encased hers. Fingernails scraped along her neck; not enough to bleed but enough to hurt.

“Do you ever dream of me?”

Gaara was continuing their game, even as he nipped her throat and settled between her legs.

“Y-yes.”

Gaara shifted his weight on her to kick her legs apart. “Is this what you wanted?”

She licked her lips. “Y-yes.”

He chuckled when she groaned. There was a sharp pain along the back of her legs from being held down like this, but she ignored it. What she really wanted suddenly scared her. “Wait.”

Gaara growled; his grip on her throat tightened and Sakura gasped for air. “No more waiting. He wants you.”

Sakura coughed and spluttered. “He?”

He added a little more pressure but eased enough to allow her airflow. “Yes. He’s been thinking about you hot, wet, and wriggling underneath me.”

“Are you...”

It suddenly clicked. Sakura had an inner – a voice that spoke to her and lashed out. A female voice. It wasn’t inconceivable that Gaara had something similar. From her one-on-one sessions, she’d begun to unravel her inner; to see the reflection of her psyche for what it really was. But clearly, Gaara hadn’t made that leap into redefining himself. He still thought of his inner voice as something separate from himself. Something that can’t be overcome because it had a mind of its own.

She pushed her pity down and shifted into medic mode. He needed her more than she needed him, right now.

“You can pull away if you want.”

It pained her to deny herself something she had grown so desperate for, but maybe taking it slow and letting this come more naturally would be good for her, too. Sakura had no doubt they would progress that far eventually, but in the bushes, just out of sight of the hospital entrance, was not the place to have sex with him for the first time.

They had time.

“Gaara.” She reached up and touched his forehead. The complicated kanji felt just as smooth under her fingers as the rest of him did. Almost like it wasn’t even there. “Push him away.”

He growled down at her, almost like that persona was speaking through him. “I will fuck you. I don’t play games and I don’t fuck around. Next time you push me, I’ll push back. This is your only warning.”

He shoved her again, and then jumped up, moving away from her. But he didn’t go far before half turning to frown at her. “If you do that again, he’ll kill you.”

She swallowed heavily, watching him through her blurry vision as he limped away from her; whether he was in pain from something he did to himself or being so turned on, she couldn’t tell.

She’d pushed him too far. She knew it.

And if it wasn’t for the fact that he had already proven himself to be possessive, Sakura would worry about never seeing him again.

No.

He wasn’t done with her yet.

[dateflight398]

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit Free

Dating Single Parents Reddit

Reddit Dating Advice

A few years ago, I started cracking jokes regularly about hot dads. Then when I met a charming, handsome dude with good taste in music and tacos at a secret Santa vinyl swap party last winter, I started dating one. Suddenly the jokes seemed a little creepy, and although I actively pumped the brakes on making them, those familiar with my menagerie of hot dad puns rose a skeptical eyebrow. I didn't seek out a hot dad, it just happened. Hotness aside, there's some unexpected things that happen when you date a single dad.

I've dated ('dated') divorced dudes before, which might be a little similar, but this relationship marks my first with a parent. When the relationship was brand-spankin' new, a lot of close friends lamented renditions of, 'I could never DATE A PARENT.' They echoed sentiments of kids being deal breakers. But I just figured, we're getting older. Everyone has a past and brings baggage into a relationship. And sometimes that baggage needs soccer lessons. Although, of course, I find my partner's child a deeply charming, fun, hilarious little human who doesn't qualify as 'baggage.' You know what I mean. A man willing and thrilled to take on the dad role shows commitment. It shows a patient man who gives a damn and has a loving heart. These are positive things. However, yeah..dating one of these men summons some unique situations sometimes.

Aug 27, 2018 Single dads have responsibilities, and that’s a sign that they’ll be able to handle a relationship maturely. Speaking of fatherly responsibilities, single dads have to take their kids to the Dentist, the Doctor, and other appointments. This means that it should be relatively easy to meet a single dad if you’re looking to date one. If you’re newly single, ease into it. Remember, you’re the grown-up here. “The decision to date is 100. Single Officers, hows your dating life? I am a Deputy that is currently working in the county jail. I was recently set up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She was was really cute from her pictures and i was told she was a great person so i agreed. We met for dinner and I was actually having a good time.

He gets along great with your dad

I already knew I was dating a sociable, nice guy, and my dad is the same way, but I don't know how I failed to predict this easy bond. It's kinda unbelievably cute to watch them nerd out on fatherhood together.

He moves easily in different social situations

If he has to make pleasant conversation with other parents during tae kwan do, he can flow harmoniously through your old coworker's new girlfriend's potluck.

Finding tiny clothes in your clean laundry

Or..not even that tiny. Just not yours and not big enough to be his. I recently unearthed a red T-shirt that was definitely not mine in a batch of clean laundry I did at bae's house. Granted, I'm a fairly petite person and my boyfriend's child is seven. Even though I modeled it for jokes above, I resisted the urge to actually don and sport it around. That seemed too far.

Reexamining past relationships

Every situation is different, but my boyfriend is still on amicable terms with his child's mother, who also lives near us. Matters are so peachy that she even shared me on a Google Calendar she, her boyfriend, and my boyfriend share re: who has chief parenting duties when (it's half-and-half, really). This kind of amazing camaraderie made me really look at past relationships I'd previously kept duct-taped in a box and tossed the way-back part of the closet. I'd like to say this exercise made me resurrect toxic romantic relationships as healthy friendships, but that hasn't quite happened yet (and with some specific ones, I honestly can't see that ever happening). More than anything, I think it's helped me recognize the hard fact that all humans have faults and, in general, good intentions. Harmony can exist with a little work. (Though to be fair, I can't take credit for the calendar. That's all his superstar ex's handiwork and maturity.)

Realizing people sure like to make fun of/talk about dads

I actually muted #dadbod from Twitter and had to fake a million smiles for people trying to relate to me by bringing the meme up IRL. Also very tired of the dad joke thing (which is real, sure, but still not a phenom I care to discuss for the 999th time).

There's far less invented drama

Dating As A Single Dad Reddit Free

When a person has to care for another human, they simply have less emotional and physical energy to invent snafus or hang-ups. Nothing is a big deal unless it's an actual Big Deal. He has developed a wisdom to help him identify the difference between the two, and if you haven't already done the same, hanging with him long enough will be educational.

You have an incredibly patient partner

Someone who had to teach a tiny, indignant child how to master the toilet isn't gonna flip when you need to take nine breaks hiking back out of a canyon.

You save money

I've never considered my income sizable until I started thinking of the glaring fact that I don't have to split it with anyone. Since single dads still have to, you know, fund their child, there isn't always a ton of extra dough to fund flippant outings to fancy cocktail bars or jump onto tubing trips you didn't even want to attend in the first place. It inspires you to be more mindful of your own spending habits. As such—

He's wildly creative with cheap and free activities

And knows every single dope park worth visiting in town.

It forces you to address your own insecurities..

So when the kid asks, 'Why are you wearing lipstick?' You can actually think to yourself, '..Yeah. Why am I doing that?' And in a more serious sense, it forces you to dissect immature impulses. Like when you're running late to meet a friend because you're stuck in a child-stuffed lantern parade one town over, you're not allowed to bitch and force your S.O. to help you summon an Uber to pick you up, STAT—because he's too busy pushing the kid on a skateboard inside the festivities to indulge your princess agenda. It makes you take a more discerning look at this princess agenda and brainstorm ways to be more reasonable in general.

..and to be an adult yourself.

I was playing with the kid at a playground near my boyfriend's apartment and when an authority figure from the attached daycare came out to ask if we had permission to be there, I immediately turned to the child. Then I realized, 'Oh fuck. I'm supposed to answer here.' I've always been a touch afraid of authority but knew I had to handle the current situation. It turned out fine, by the way.

Conversely, it means you can't let jealousy get to you with exes. I used to let envy blind me badly in the past—even if a boyfriend managed to remain congenial with an ex, the whole bond made me feel rattled as hell. Now that I'm with a person who's ex will be around in a close way forever and ever amen, I have to be OK with that. Which is the adult thing to do anyway. We can't let ourselves feel threatened for no viable reason.

He knows the world doesn't revolve around him

This can be a difficult quality to find in this world of overgrown Peter Pans on the hunt for their own Mother figure—a person to handle all the less savory household duties, remind them to go to the doctor, praise them constantly, hinge their daily or long-term plans on what Pan wants or says he needs. This situation is different, because he already takes on that role for his child while still taking decent care of himself. Playing Mother to a series of adult Peter Pans got old, so this kind of attitude is a very welcome change of pace.

He is deliberate

Since there's a kid involved, he isn't trying to be all willy-nilly with decisions in life—both those that do and don't concern you. That's pretty hot, TBH.

You can dodge responsibility for your music choices

When 'Uptown Funk' happens six times in a row, I can blame that on the kid (which is true). Same with Katy Perry (which might be an extrapolation or even just my idea).

It's hard to gross him out

Possibly one of the best treats of dating a dad. If your cat got secretly sick and he steps barefoot into a pile of barf, he doesn't love it but he understands that happens (probably because he has experience direct skin-to-someone else's-barf contact before). He also doesn't panic about periods or farts or other body stuff.

Dating Single Parents Reddit

His place is gonna be messy..forever

Cleaning is one of my favorite forms of therapy, likely because if I'm in a highly cluttered space physically, that transfers mentally and makes me feel like a stressed-out trashcan. Very early in this relationship, I suggested I help my boyfriend with an intense cleaning sesh of his kitchen. We had a lot of wine and played loud punk and soon it was gleaming. This lasted about 36 hours. With a child and full-time job and other luxurious duties such as bathing oneself and staying fed (AND keeping the kid fed), cleaning falls to the wayside. Besides not having enough time to clean, kids are just miraculously mess-inducing machines. Tireless ones. As such, I try to see this situation as an opportunity to relax my OCD tendencies and work to become a more patient, understanding person. Of course my apartment is much cleaner—because I only have to account for me. It isn't fair to hold him to the same standard.

You learn how to relinquish some control

I recognize I have some control freak tendencies, relationships included. A lot of life is outside our control and dating someone with a child is a very effective reminder that no matter what, we can't always call the shots. We have to be adaptable. As such, I waited until my boyfriend thought it would be OK to introduce me to his kid. And even then, it's not like I leapt from a cake and shouted, 'I AM YOUR NEW MOM!!!!!!!!!!!' Not at all. I'm still just a buddy who kicks it from time to time to join in on eating pizza or playing 'balloon' or the occasional ride home from school. When and if my boyfriend wants to explain my role in his life to his child, that's not really up to me. It's a discussion he and I can have, but it's not my endeavor to pilot.

You get a bit of perspective about your own age..

It's fun to make fun of Oldsters until you realize you are now one. This is highlighted by the frequency at which you offer anecdotes children don't want to hear, always marked with the beginning, 'When I was a kid..' They don't care, probably. They just don't need to hear about how your lack of skills with Donkey Kong at age seven feeds into your lack of skills with Mario Kart Racing at age 27. They're just stoked to authentically beat an adult.

..and your general level of importance.

Not to say my boyfriend treats me like I'm not important; He treats me with total kindness and respect. It's just that I have dated people in the past who put me on a pedestal, and you know what? The oxygen gets pretty thin up there. Although I'm sure it's meant as an appreciative gesture, it's unrealistic and puts a lot of pressure on the person sitting on top of it. Dating a parent, though, means no matter what, there is always going to be someone more important than I am in the mix. And I am so so OK with that.

There's no room for jealousy

If a sitter falls through last-minute, that means reservations gotta be canceled and dinner gets moved to the living room and the main dish will probably be pizza. You can't take it personally if homie is late because his child's mother got a flat tire so he had to go help out. You also can't get suspicious when he's on the phone with her a lot. These are complicated waters to navigate and if you're even to dip a few toes beneath the surface, you gotta be able to resign yourself to faith and trust—two things that ought to be present in any grown-ass relationship anyway. It's just here, it's especially non-negotiable.

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Reddit Dating Advice

Shit doesn't have to be so serious

I never babysat growing up and none my nieces and nephews live close by, so I don't actually have much experience hanging out with kids. The first time I met my boyfriend's child, I was 900 times more nervous than meeting any adult. What were we supposed to do or talk about? 'Seriously, whatever,' he instructed. After a while, the nerves dissolved and we were playing a stirring game of 'balloon,' which entails whacking a balloon back and forth between two or three people in a living room. Extra rules vary, but usually Taylor Swift is a necessary soundtrack. Things just don't have to be so serious in the sense that kids are very fun and it's almost astounding how quickly you can reverse back to such an easily entertained brain space. It's freeing to launch into some weird accent and spike a deflating balloon in the air without fear of being judged. It scratches a specific existential itch.

There's no ego

Because guess who makes the weird accent and plays balloon when you're not around? Conversely, though— Gaydia gay dating site reviews.

You can have serious conversations without scaring each other

Although I'm sure there are exceptions, most of the time when a single dad is dating, he isn't just screwing around. It's surprisingly refreshing to sink into a relationship and have the comfortable freedom to discuss individual big-scale hopes and goals. In other relationships, talking about the future at all can often be exactly the catalyst to send Pan off packing for a return and permanent trip to Neverland.

You retain a lot of your own time

Often, especially in new relationships, it can be hard to balance love stuff and friends. https://dateflight398.tumblr.com/post/658104267855577088/catholic-dating-app-free. Assuming you're in a situation with split custody in a local setting, that means half the time you get to yourself. It helps slow things down early on and maintain other hobbies, tinkerings, friendships, and such in your own life. It's the antithesis to smothering and fosters vital independence.

Images: TriStar Picturs; Giphy(23); Beca Grimm

[galaxy-koi]

-see the uncommon oc asks- 1-50 for your pic, cyn sleet or morning! >;3c

Hey?? How about all three darling??

[[MORE]]

1. A little-known talent of your OC?

Cynthia: One of her proficiencies that gets overlooked is her calligraphy skill. Most people around her see her merely as a lady of brawn, but the skills of keeping a still posture or collected composure in combat helped keep her hand steady while writing.

Sleet: I imagine Human!Sleet is great with a needle! She’ll knit some scarves for everyone when it gets chilly!

Morning: She hums quietly to herself every so often, hoping no one hears her. However, Lichen can hear her velvet voice.

2. What trait does your OC like best about themself? (Eyes, guitar skills, random bird facts, etc)

Cynthia: Definitely her swordsmanship.

Sleet: She appreciates that she’s able to remain kind when the world smacks her in the face.

Morning: Her aesthetics!

3. How many pillows does your OC sleep with?

Cynthia: what’s a pillow. maybe one pillow some nights but some nights her pillow is Nur.

Sleet: She insists that she wants to sleep with one. Slate gives her four.

Morning: She is a pillow princess! She has one of those pillows that you can draw on with the sequins.

4. Is your OC good at keeping secrets?

Cynthia: Yep!

Sleet: She is good at keeping secrets, but that’s because she most likely forgot it.

Morning: She can overshare a lot, and she’ll likely tell secrets if she thinks it’s something too important to not share.

5. Your OC’s worst habit?

Cynthia: Currently, she has a huge insomnia problem thanks to the recent events of the campaign. Also, she doesn’t even want to confront her trauma or anything, and that’s only going to make it worse for her later.

Sleet/Morning: Both of them have the same habit of trusting people too easily and being too kind to everyone. With Morning, she also has a habit of breaking into peer pressure.

6. Does your OC prefer tennis shoes/sneakers or flip flops?

All three of them prefer tennis shoes. This is also because flip flops are worthy of bane to me.

7. What is your OC’s opinion on body modifications?

Cynthia: She probably would modify herself if she could.

Sleet: As long as it’s not impacting one’s health, she’s fine with it!

Morning: She thinks it’s a waste of money.

8. Your OC is given a full-ride scholarship to any college they would want to go to. Where do they go and what do they major in?

Cynthia: She would probably study religion at a quiet college that has a swordsmanship or LARP club.

Sleet: “Any college you say?” Would be her first words. And then she’d research the hell out of medical colleges to find which one lands you a job the most.

Morning: Similar to Sleet, but says “fuck you” and picks the most expensive of the best.

9. What chores does your OC hate the most?

Cynthia: Anything that requires a serious amount of patience or time. She’s an active person, and she can get annoyed if she’s sitting in one spot for hours.

Sleet: She enjoys her chores except vacuuming because it’s loud. She’s overall a clean freak though.

Morning: Taking out the garbage.

10. Would your OC prefer to live in the city, the suburbs, or the country?

All of them would prefer the country! However, they would all have concurring opinions.

Cynthia: She’d pick the country because it would give her a chance to have more manual labor tasks and give her a higher chance of having a backwoods to explore.

Sleet: Sure, she loves talking to and being with people, but she would just want to live on the prairie in a cottage. The vastness of the land, possibly some trails to hike, and raising farm animals would be her dream.

Morning: For the aesthetics. Also where else is she going to hide away with Lyra once she has the money to retire?

11. Is your OC a blanket hog?

Cynthia: Yes!

Sleet: She shares the blanket.

Morning: She feels bad whenever she wakes up with all of the blankets on her like a burrito.

12. Would your OC play by the rules in a fight or take cheap shots?

Cynthia and Sleet play by the rules, but Morning may take cheap shots if she dislikes someone enough.

13. Does your OC have a widow ’s peak?

Cynthia: nope!

Sleet: a small one!

Morning: nope!

14. Happy birthday! What kind of present would your OC want?

Cynthia: (obviously Mordecai to be alive. /s) She just wants a day that nothing hellish happens at this point.

Sleet: To be surrounded by friends!

Morning: Some time with Lyra!

15. Something that grosses your OC out?

Cynthia: She is really starting to get grossed out by tentacles. It just be like that when you’re getting nearly killed by them every month or so.

Sleet/Morning: men who don’t wear deodorant

16. Your OC is suddenly on an adventure! Where do they go and what do they do?

Cynthia: points towards canon

Sleet: hiking! lots of hiking. preferably on a good meadowy mountain.

Morning: time for some camping in the middle of the woods and creeping out her girlfriend with spooky stories!

17. Is there a real person that looks like your OC?

Cynthia: Not really! First of all, she’s an angel, and secondly, her skin and hair color are so much of an ethnic mix that I’m unsure if it can even happen in humans!

Sleet: I actually think of one of my childhood friend’s moms but with longer hair whenever I think of Sleet!

Morning: Not that I know of, but there’s probably some cute lady out there who does!

18. Something that makes your OC laugh without fail?

Cynthia: Remembering some of the hilarious conversations between her and Mordecai when he trained her! “First of all, fuck stealth” is one of the main ones.

Sleet: She doesn’t quite laugh easily, but whenever Slate gets a bit too clumsy she can’t help but to laugh a bit. She makes sure Slate is okay though first.

Morning: Lyra telling her jokes and memes

19. Something that makes your OC cry without fail?

Cynthia: She is more of an angry crier, but anytime any of her crew gets severely injuried she cries. Also, any time she remembers a softer moment in her life, she can’t help but to cry because she misses those moments dearly. She tries to make it not look like she’s crying and holds back tears, but she can break easily.

Sleet/Morning: Whenever their significant other gets hurt or similar happens to them! And also animated films.

20. A obscure/ridiculous fear your OC has?

Cynthia: Most of her fears are justified, but probably her most obscure fear is running out of ink on her pen and not being able to write.

Sleet: She’s a little bit of a germaphobe from all of her years in the medical field.

Morning: Morning is pretty fearless, but she is deeply afraid of wandering around on the internet and accidentally finding some weird kink stuff or hentai.

21. Does your OC have any type of disability, whether it be mental, physical, etc?

Every one of my OCs have some sort of disability or I purposely make them unlikable. However, they tend to be more of mental disabilities than physical ones! I should definitely make some OCs with physical disabilities too!

Cynthia: Anxiety, insomnia, depression, and literally has so many concussions that she’s probably got some brain damage. While not a disability, I’ll throw in here that she has major scars on her right shoulder and, in AAF, grey scars on her left side.

Sleet: OCD, Autism, ADD.

Morning: Anxiety, RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria), prone to addiction.

22. Does your OC get frustrated when people forget to close the door behind themselves?

Cynthia: no

Sleet: yes

Morning: no

23. What is your OC’s first memory?

Cynthia: The earliest memory she can recall was a simple day with her original family. It was a very happy day because there was a huge feast that day, and no major arguments broke out. She assumes she was about three or four years old at the time.

Sleet: Sleet’s mother reading a book to baby Sleet! She remembered her mother reading a bunch of dots on the page and being amazed that her mother could make words from it. Her mother grabbed Sleet’s hand at one point and let her feel the words as her mom read them out loud.

Morning: She was walking through a huge city while holding her stuffed cat plush! She was very nervous, but her parents made her comfortable by keeping an arm on her shoulders while she held her plush.

24. Something you like that your OC would hate?

Cynthia: Honestly? If Cynthia met me in person she would absolutely pummel me into the ground. But unlike her, I like waiting around sometimes and looking around for small details!

Sleet: I like a lot of mess sometimes! She doesn’t.

Morning: Being the aesthetic person she is, she wouldn’t like my wardrobe of just T-shirts ahahaha

25. Your OC is going into battle/on a mission! What song is their anthem?

Cynthia: aggressively points to canon and then kindly says that I want to make her a battle theme myself at some point!

Sleet: If she’s going on a mission of any sort, she’d put on some ambience music. She doesn’t fight!

Morning: “Bubblegum Bitch” by Marina and the Diamonds? Maybe?

26. Does your OC have good or bad posture?

Sleet has the best posture, Cynthia has good posture, and Morning tries her best.

27. Most despicable thing your OC has ever done?

Cynthia: I mean, she’s definitely murdered some innocent people to get what she wanted. That one guard in S8, that guy in S14 who threw a chair at her, and probably some more. (But at least she hasn’t slaughtered tens of orcs because a demon told her to.) Also, she’s reckless a lot of times, and it’s even put the crew’s lives in danger a few times.

Sleet: She’s been incredibly passive in situations where she should have done something. Other than that, she had done nothing wrong.

Morning: She can get really petty. Probably managed to get someone arrested.

28. Is your OC a conspiracy theorist?

Cynthia: Yes, but in the sense that she believes that Roland is to be held accountable for the Plague.

Sleet: No!

Morning: Participates in the Area 51 memes but not seriously a conspiracy theorist. She likes to believe in aliens and cryptids, though.

29. Someone does something awful in front of your OC. How do they handle it?

Not well at all!

Cynthia: She turns towards whoever caused it and punishes them.

Sleet/Morning: Tries to help the victim of the incident!

30. What is your OC’s favorite drink?

God damn it, they all love tea!

31. Does your OC prefer to sleep in a warm or cool area?

Cynthia: Warm area!

Sleet/Morning: Cool area!

32. Would your OC like you if they met you?

Cynthia would kill me on sight, and then Sleet and Morning would barely be able to tolerate me.

33. A song that reminds you of your OC?

Cynthia: “Rubik’s Cube” by Athlete, “In the Woods Somewhere” by Hozier, and “Sky Full of Song” by Florence and the Machine. Hmmmm I wonder why

Also “El Tango de Roxanne” because of AAF

Sleet: “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men, “Wisdom’s Tragedy” by Disasterpeace, and “And So It Goes” by Mariana’s Trench.

Morning: Not really any song in particular, mainly because she’s quite new to the human AU, and she wasn’t quite developed on before that.

34. Is your OC a nail biter?

Cynthia: yes!

Sleet: no!

Morning: yes!

35. What is your OC’s favorite quote?

Cynthia: “First of all: Fuck stealth” probably, said by Mordecai. Also literally any time Jinri calls her darling.

Sleet: probably the whole “The Two-Headed Calf” poem

Morning: “Treat yourself”

36. Your OC’s favorite fashion era? (20’s, 70’s, etc)

Cynthia: Victorian!

Sleet: American Colonial era of clothing!

Morning: She loves the modern fashion era, but also she loves the 1920’s.

37. Does your OC get excited when they get mail?

All three: yes!

38. Random thunderstorm! How does your OC react?

Cynthia: She gets Wall to handle steering the ship, and then goes to her room to try to absorb the energy of the thunderstorm.

Sleet: She gets a little worried at first, but she eventually carries on with her day.

Morning: Netflix time!

39. A strange talent of your OC?

Cynthia: despite having a +6 to CON saves and +3 to DEX saves she still manages to fuck these two saves horribly.

Sleet: She’s really really good at organizing.

Morning: She can recount word-for-word in real time her favorite movie.

40. Assuming your OC doesn’t have them already, what superpower would they want? If they do, would they change it, keep it, or get rid of it?

Cynthia: She likes her divine magic, thank you.

Sleet: She’d want healing magic!

Morning: Weather manipulation!

41. Does your OC like/make puns?

Cynthia: loves puns!

Sleet: doesn’t like puns!

Morning: makes puns!

42. What kind of shampoo does your OC use?

Cynthia: ??? Does she even get the chance to shower???

Sleet: It has to be a very certain shampoo brand, and the exact shampoo that she always gets. As to what, it’s definitely one that helps clean out dandruff well.

Morning: (I apologize, I can’t really answer this one too well! But probably one that’s safe for dyed, coiled hair!)

43. Your OC wakes up with a coin super glued to their forehead. How do they react?

Cynthia: which Philious was it

Sleet: She would be doing everything to remove it.

Morning: Laugh! Good prank! Now how do I remove it.

44. Can your OC sleep if there’s any kind of light?

Cynthia: Cynthia doesn’t even sleep either way. But yes, she can sleep with some light. In some cases, she even prefers it.

Sleet: Nope. Pure darkness and cold room only.

Morning: yes!

45. What kind of self-esteem does your OC have?

Cynthia: a slowly-declining one!

Sleet: She has high self esteem!

Morning: Low self-esteem, but it’s getting better.

46. A word that your OC can’t stand?

They all hate the word “moist”.

Cynthia also hates even the mention of The Living Plague.

47. Does your OC fold their clothes, hang them up, or just leave them in the basket/dryer?

Cynthia folds her clothes, Morning and Sleet hang them.

48. Would society call your OC a good guy or a bad guy? What would they say they are?

They’re all good people, but people might think wrong of Cynthia and Morning for their occasionally-illegal actions.

49. Your OC’s most prized possession?

Cynthia: Her diary!

Sleet: She has a moonstone necklace that she wears on very special locations. It was a gift from her mother.

Morning: She has a plush cat that she’s managed to keep throughout the years. It’s a calico plush that she named “Mewsie” as a kid.

50. What is your OC’s happy place?

Cynthia: A calm fireplace, a spot on the couch next to Jinri or Mordecai. She wants everything to be back to what it was before the Plague. She wants to be back home at the mansion, but the temple works just as fine. Small talks about life, a few words about Sune and how much Sune has given them, and being able to heal emotionally.

Sleet: The summit of a mountain covered in meadows. The wind stirs, but it is not enough to chill the air or blow her away. A picnic with Slate, up on the summit, chatting about how beautiful everything is. How beautiful he is.

Morning: A walk through the forest during autumn. A strong smell of pine cones, wet leaves from morning dew. A fog rolls over, but isn’t obscuring her sight. A cabin in the middle of the woods, calling her back home. Holding hands with Lyra yet again.

[surviving-guilt]

Checks and Balances

Many are keen on accepting the notion that the abused carry the abusers. This is what we call a revolving door.

They would also argue that the indifference of man is just as evil as evil men are by their actions.

If your friend texts you they’re going to kill someone and 10 minutes later does it, are you evil for not stopping them? Most people would say no.

If you and your friend are in a room with someone else, and they tell you they’re about to shoot the other person and 10 seconds later they do, are you evil for not stopping them? A little more wishy washy, but most people would tell you there was nothing you could do.

What if you were in the car with them, they parked in front of an ex’s house, and told you they were going to run them over the moment they walk out of the house? The ex opens the door, your friend whips around the block to gain speed and momentum, it takes about a minute and a half to make it around the block, you see the ex walk into the street, you see the impact coming and it happens. Are you evil for not grabbing the wheel at any point? For not texting someone or calling the authorities when it was still being premeditated? For not getting out of the car when you had the chance? The courts would decide if you were an accomplice or not, but would you be evil for your inaction? Whether you tried to talk them out of it or not?  -- If you say yes, why aren’t you equally as evil for the first example with the text? Why not for the second. People act as though “evil” and “immoral” are synonymous, they like to pretend all things are circumstantial, but that is truly a conclusion that people make up within their own minds. I will start my point here by saying on the conversation of “good” vs. “evil” there is no gray, it truly is black and white; it is light vs. darkness, or light vs. the lack there of. 

I say this because “morals” are man-made and vary culturally, therefore, in the grand scheme of mammal existence, morals do not exist. I know this because my dog does not know I’m an asshole for calling women bitches, but it does know if someone or something malicious or evil is present. Quick word of advice -- if your dog is usually nice to most humans and literally hates someone that walks in one day and you don’t know why, take the hint. Your dog will know to run away because of an earth quake or tsunami before you will, and it will know evil and toxic people before you realize it. Trust your dog. Anyhow, no one would argue that walking passed someone drowning a child in a pool or lake and not doing or saying anything makes you a fucked up person, but everyone has this confused fucked up conversation about what if that child was Hitler? Would a strict Catholic, against homosexuality and abortion, still believe in the purity of that fetus if it was born gay? Where are these invisible lines we draw in our heads and when is something gray and not black and white? I ask all these conflicting questions as someone who believes very little in circumstantial exclusions and gray areas. For example, many people recognize “high functioning” people on the Autism spectrum and that have asperger’s as having extraordinary talents despite their “disorder” but would look at someone who is schizophrenic as having a simply negative disorder. I do not. I feel all mental disorder, both naturally occuring and developed through physical or mental trauma, is both an affliction and a potentially powerful adaptation and expansion of mental ability and/or capacity. This is not to say that this is true at face value. I am sociopathic, have bipolar disorder including BPD, seasonal depression on top of Bipolar, PTSD, severe ADHD, and go through bouts of anxiety at different points in my life depending on where I am, it’s a living hell, i know. But surviving it and battling it head-on when it’s easier to run away long enough to learn ways to manage it and cultivate the “positive” symptoms along with the bad ones has left me more capable than I was before these disorders overtook my entire life. I am in no way saying that ALL people with mental disorders are better for having them, not at all actually. At their worst, these disorders are so debilitating that they kill who they afflict, or rob them of the ability to lead a successful functional life, or even form basic human relationships, and these examples are what most of society uses as their basis for their impression of mental illness in general. When you hear the term “sociopath” the images that come to mind may be serial killers, child abusers, animal abusers, or generally evil people, but I’m sure your first thought isn’t “Owner of a Fortune 500 company.” As i’m sure when you hear “Autistic child” you don’t immediately imagine tech geniuses that are the best in data analysts, developing algorithms to make for better technology, or catching hackers and predators by sorting metadata for big companies and the government.  I’m also sure you hear schizophrenia and think that someone should be in a jacket or heavily medicated and a danger to society, but have never thought that you may have met a very high fuctioning schizophrenic who goes untreated and you just think of them as nice and quirky. Someone you may know with dissociation may come off as selfish and forgetful and insensitive or overly sensitive, but I’m sure you wouldn’t think that in the time of complete crisis, they may be the sanest, most calm and rational person in the room capable of leading everyone to safety rather than being in complete panic, now would you? Someone with OCD may come off as an anal, controlling, selfish, narcissistic, and sometimes condescending prick, but they’ll know where the exits in the room are, when someone may trip in front of you due to an untied shoe, exactly how much time until the next bus, etc. Someone suffering from severe anxiety that has learned to manage it may actually know better than you when something is worth freaking out about, because they focus so hard on reasoning and not letting irrational fears and feelings overtake, that when they finally do let themselves freak out, just like my dog hating someone, it IS time to listen and freak out. People often mistake ADHD as the inability to concentrate, but often time the issue is that they are focused on TOO MANY things at once and don’t have the energy to fix any one thing because they’re experiencing more of the world at once than you can fathom without drugs. Most people don’t believe that in any given moment, I can be listening to you speak, have music on, have a completely different song playing in my head, while thinking about the past and wondering about the future on two different trains of thought going in different directions, and texting someone all at the same time while still actively listening and responding to whomever I’m speaking to with no issue. My ADHD is an issue when I have to sit in a quiet room and accomplish one task, too little stimulus is my downfall, not too much. My last example is those with emotional disconnection issues, be it from PTSD, sociopathy, autism, anxiety, or a variety of other potential factors. They may find it hard to care, like, and especially love, and may come off as “cold” and incapable of sympathy, empathy, or tenderness beyond simple introductory kindness, but believe me when I tell you that when they DO care, when they DO love, when they do form a bond, no one you ever meet will care more, love harder, and try with everything inside them than they will. Saying “I love you” less DOES make it more valuable when it is said. 

So with all this said, when is the last time you had an argument with yourself? Who won? Did that seem like a stupid question? You see, people think that symptoms of disorders are exclusive to those WITH disorders, but you see people every day who exhibit the same behaviors as people like me. How many times have you caught yourself purposely not stepping on cracks in the sidewalk? Do you think your have OCD for that? Do you get sad and not want to go outside or leave your bed when there’s bad weather? Do you think you suffer from major depression for that? Does a similar sound, smell, or image that reminds you of an old bad memory make you cringe or feel bad? Do you think you have PTSD for that? More than often, the case is no with all these questions, but you exhibit symptoms without having the rest. So if someone with bipolar disorder learns how to manage their bad symptoms, but allows themselves to exhibit the more practical or useful symptoms, such as high energy and drive during a manic phase, are they not using their disorder as a beneficial tool or way to get ahead without suffering fully from the full negative symptoms of the disorder? Is this wrong? Or an unnatural leg up? Is it wrong to exploit a disorder for a benefit? You may think it’s circumstantial, but I simply do not. One can take advantage of manic symptoms to simply gain, such as being able to go to school, go to work, hang out, party, have the confidence to get with someone and do school work all in one day with little sleep, yes. But what if someone was just coming out of their major depressive episode, finals are coming up, work is at it’s busiest, their friends need them for help through a tough time, and they’re having personal issues at home? Is tapping into the manic energy, drive, and full-on go mode to not collapse under the pressure they’re undergoing considered taking advantage? I would think not. Now let’s revisit our more extreme examples from the beginning. Someone has a dissociative personality disorder, or “split personalities”, they are both you and your friend in the example about killing someone. Part of them fears the other part doing something they consider evil such as murder, does the part that doesn’t reach out or do something about it get the same judgement the part that carries out the act does? Is not stopping a death  you can evil? Yes. But what if your reason is because there is so much stigma against the mentally ill that the absolute fear of being attacked, detained, misunderstood, or not listened to is what causes your silence? If you tell someone you get institutionalized and labeled a danger, if you don’t you commit the act and are looked at as evil over ill, and you can’t just walk faster past it because both people are inside you. This is the torment that leads us to kill ourselves out of fear for not stopping ourselves from the pain we can cause because we’re afraid to reach out for help. But now, what if one personality is a sociopath and the other is human as can be, and just anxious? What if that sociopath is smart and instinctual enough to catch on to the fact that someone is evil, maybe about to go runover their girlfriend and kill her? It wants to do the right thing because the other personality cares about morals and it sees evil. The sociopath recognizes evil, and realizes he can’t reach out for help because he’s labeled as mentally ill, therefore not credible and “damaged” so he decided to drown the person who is going to kill his ex. You, a neurotypical person, walk past him drowning the would be murderer, and choose to keep walking. Putting all morals to the side, who was evil?  The stigmas we have towards the mentally ill not only cause them to suffer directly, but it blinds us to the great potential those who have mental illness have and how they can do such greater things in society BECAUSE of their disorder, and we shut them out instead of letting them in out of fear for what they may do, instead of letting them in out of excitement for what they may do. That same person struggling with an inner sociopathic personality may be a huge asset to law enforcement, but won’t be allowed to be because they would fail a psych eval.  The point of this post is that if we were more supportive of those with mental disorders CULTIVATING and managing their symptoms to their benefit, rather than suppressing ALL symptoms with stigmas, shame, and medication, we could be a lot further along on our progress as a society instead of muting the great minds that could better us all. We create the serial killers and “psychopaths” of the world by forcing them to have to run away from themselves based on the potential of the damage they can do rather than the potential of the great they can do with self discipline, self awareness, and joined management with professionals that can give them the tools to use their disorders for good rather than suppress what makes them who they are. For some, we are not defined by our disorders, but in some cases we ARE our disorders, and suppressing that makes us less human than you think we are with them. Abusing us makes us the abusers when we give up on trying to get help, and for many the ones we abuse are ourselves to dangerous and even fatal extents.

The biggest thing I want to stress is not looking at someone with connection issues or sociopathic tendencies as a serial killer or societal reject, because when we learn to put our resentment for not feeling things the same as others aside, we rely on our instinct and we’re much closer to recognizing evil the way your dog does than you are, and our trouble grasping “moral” vs “immoral” doesn’t mean we can’t teach ourselves right and wrong if you let us try to learn more about ourselves other than “YOU’RE BAD.” All of this is food for thought, and me realizing what I wish I did years ago, I’m not as bad as I think I am, and I’m not as bad as I can be, and most importantly, not letting myself be as bad as I can be makes me good. It is okay that the only opinion of me I care about it my own, because it is me that has to learn how to live as me, manage me, and control myself for better or worse. Not accepting help is okay, taking a step back and saying “i need this time to figure me out” is okay, and warning people that you’re afraid of not responding well in certain situations or doing something others would find wrong is okay if you recognize something and say or do something about it.

It is okay to be ill and not suppress yourself if you learn to cultivate the good. I am not handicapped, in fact, I’m one of the most capable people I know. Self improvement is not selfish. I may never love myself, but I can appreciate the good parts in all the bad, and that’s huge. FUCK YOUR STIGMA, BE YOUR OWN BIGGEST FAN AND CRITIC, AND BE WHAT YOU GOTTA BE EVEN IF ITS IMMORAL AS LONG AS ITS GOOD.

Congrats if you read this.  

Thoughts?

[diedreaming-blog1]

my first post.

I’ve finally started. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a few weeks now and I decided I should get it over with. This is a stream of consciousness kinda thing for the most part. I’ve got some problems and I’m not sure if they’re justified or if I’m just being a bitch, but they’re there nonetheless. I’ve been depressed for fucking ever and used to have really bad OCD and anxiety. Pretty shit childhood I think as well, father is emotionally unavailable and mother is fucking narcissistic or some shit. Even writing this down I feel like I’m just going for pity points here, oh poor me my childhood was so bad. I didn’t die of cancer when I was 10 or something so it clearly could’ve been much worse. Maybe I am being a bitch, maybe not, who knows? I’ve got stuff driving me absolutely insane right now though that much is certain. Maybe if I write about it and get it out in the open it’ll help. So i think I would’ve been depressed and shit even if my parents weren’t idiots. Apparently when I was like 6 I wrote in my journal that the only reason I hadn’t killed myself was because I knew it would hurt my parents too much. I don’t remember writing that or really anything from when I was 6 but apparently it’s true. I think I’m a pretty strong willed person, when I put my mind to something I usually get it done. I remember I was having really bad feelings of “guilt” when I was young, from the OCD I think. I had symptoms of anxiety too I assume but I can’t remember what those were. So I went to the local childrens hospital and was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and OCD. Real shit hand but that’s the way she goes. My mother was diagnosed with the same things at the same time because she recognized so many of my symptoms in herself. I couldn’t even begin to imagine living for 30 years thinking you were just insane, not know what was wrong with you or how to deal with it. I think that would drive anyone crazy, it certainly did her. She always had problems, so did my father. Neither one of them had good childhoods, mother was raised by a father with an un-diagnosed brain tumor and a mother with the same problems as her. My father was put up for adoption because he was born out of wedlock, and was adopted by some very odd people who liked to help kids who had problems. He grew up with foster siblings and the few permanent ones were fucked up with fetal alcohol syndrome and stuff. Basically, I can’t blame them for not knowing how to act properly, or raise a kid well, they never had good examples to learn from. However, that didn’t help me at the time because I didn’t understand all that stuff. My mom was pretty severe in her visible symptoms, she wouldn’t sit on a bus seat or touch an elevator button, weird stuff like that. I can’t think of anything worse and that sounds pretty tame but she was just, off, I guess. My father was almost if not completely emotionally unattached to me, part of that being his upbringing and part of that being his job I think. I can remember him saying I love you and stuff but I also remember from a young age that I felt uncomfortable calling him daddy (I never really called my parents mom or dad, weird I know). It seemed to, informal? he wasn’t a “proper” type of person, didn’t care about elbows on the table and shit, so it wasn’t weird because of that, I think I just didn’t have a proper relationship with him. He definitely tried to do the right things. We used to go out to the workshop and make stuff. We did that a lot, he loves to try weird shit. He’s recently gotten into knife making. Anyways, he definitely tried to “bond” and did all the regular stuff like teach me how to ride a bike. But he was also kinda crazy I guess? I remember two specific incidents when I was less than 10 years old where we would be driving somewhere and get into an argument and he would just start screaming and screaming. Not just regular shouting but with rage, almost aggressive. I don’t remember ever being scared for my safety I don’t think, although maybe I was. I’m pretty sure this happened more than twice because one of the times I remember forcing him to pull over so I could walk home, as we were about 2 blocks away. That’s not the kind of coping mechanism an 8 year old develops on his second try I don’t think. Writing all of this I just noticed I wrote much more about him than about my mom, I’m concerned that I have attachment issues or something with him, maybe seeking his approval. Well, I know that I have issues with his approval. I feel very strongly that I was made to be felt I was never good enough as a child. Not that he ever said that directly, but it felt obvious. I remember one time I came up with the idea of a snowblower, basically thinking we should use a ride on lawnmower to shoot the snow away from the road or whatever. It’s obviously not an original idea, but I remember him immediately saying something along the lines of “nope that’s been done” and then very specifically “all the good ideas have been thought of”. He didn’t say hey good idea or anything first, just shot me down. Many of my ideas were like that. I should talk about my mother, I thought of a good example of how she affected me. I remember that growing up I was never ever allowed to sleep over at other kids houses. I had and still do have one friend I would genuinely describe as a brother, and he was allowed to stay at our house, but never me at his. It wasn’t a genuine safety concern, I grew up in a fairly affluent neighborhood for the time, all of my friends were typical good kids, parents knew each other very well. I think this was her anxiety, but I wasn’t allowed to stay at someone elses house until I was probably 11 or so. That may be normal to other people but in this area with these friends it was weird, and didn’t go unnoticed. I think the biggest thing she did though, which is very hard for me to talk about, is this. When I was in grade 3, she was having a particularly hard time with things I guess, and was binge drinking to cope. She would binge drink in the morning, get super drunk I guess, call the school to tell them I was going home with her friend and their family, and then make herself throw up and sober up so she could come and get me. I was going through basically the same thing, I had panic attacks weekly and was really fucking struggling with my anxiety and OCD, and just wanted to go home to her, but she was doing this. Some days it was so bad that I would go home early, or she would call me in sick. Anyways, the family friend. The mother was normal-ish, kind of hillbilly I think, and the father was notedly weird. The kids were on another fucking level though, two of them ended up being autistic and one of them is just weird I think. So grade 3 me was getting sent to their house maybe once or twice a week, not knowing why and hating it so so fucking much every time. I would cry when I got called down to the office or when she would get me when school was over. I always had a hard time showing emotion in front of people. even then, so I hid most of it. It was insanely difficult to cope with all my problems, plus this, plus the fact that I felt I had to act happy and behave well. I didn’t know why I kept getting sent there either, and thought it was because of me I think. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me though I think. One time when I was there, the sister and younger brother were playing in the parents bedroom. I saw and was already freaking the fuck out because they weren’t supposed to be in there and I had this huge problem with guilt and doing the right thing still. The sister is in probably grade 6 or 7 or something, and the brother was a year or two younger than me. Point being, she’s big, he’s small. So they were rough housing and she had this game where she basically molested him. It didn’t seem sexual from either party, but he definitely didn’t like it and cried for her to stop. It took all of the courage I had but I said something like “hey you shouldn’t touch him there” because obviously everyone’s taught that that’s a bad place to be touched. She justified it by saying she wasn’t actually touching anything, just going around it. basically cupping his junk in her hand. He seemed genuinely uh, perturbed? by this. It clearly wasn’t a small thing to him. I didn’t ever mention it to anyone. Not to his parents, or a teacher or my parents or a councilor. I just blocked it out. I completely forgot about it until grade 8 or 9 I think. But I spent the rest of that year seeing him and feeling so fucking guilty that I didn’t have the courage to help him, and knowing that all I had to do was say something. I don’t know why I didn’t, I think i was afraid of people not believing me or being told I was exaggerating. I don’t think it fucked the kid up too much though, apparently hes doing pretty well for an autistic kid. I remembered all of this because for whatever reason it was explained to me what was happening in grade 3, about my mom drinking and whatnot. This was during the summer and I was going to a science summer camp at a university, and so all these fucking emotions got brought back up and guess what happened? I was told I was overplaying everything and was still sent to the fucking camp. Again I had to pretend like nothing bad was happening to me for 6 hours a day. What the fuck is wrong with them that they did this too me twice. I know they didn’t know any better but how the fuck does a child deal with this shit. It wasn’t fair. I felt like my whole fucking world was falling apart, that this was the literal end of life as I knew it, and I was sent to fucking summer camp. Also when I was 10 I was diagnosed as type one diabetic, I forgot to mention that. So that was pretty tough. I learned how to deal with trauma well though. The day I was diagnosed I had been suffering from a high blood sugar and dehydration for so long that I was told I couldn’t wait for and ambulance to take me to the hospital and that my dad had to drive me. Then they spent about 45 minutes trying to give me an IV. I counted 17 different needles, but most of those they dug around in my arm for a bit first, before taking it out and trying somewhere else. I was always good in high stress situations like this so I wasn’t too too freaked out, but I again felt like life as I knew it was over. I mean I guess it was, but I had this insanely strong sense of impending doom, same as when I was told all the shit about grade 3. This seems to be a reoccurring problem and I think it’s related to the fact that I don’t like change, or maybe I don’t like change because of all this shit. Whatever. I had a few really close calls and more recently honestly almost died twice. the last time was the worst I guess. I have this problem of refusing to do my insulin, I always have. It’s so fucking dumb because I know it’s literally killing me and I’m a full grown man but yeah, sometimes I just don’t do it. I think it’s either a self harm thing or me trying to forget that I have diabetes or something. Anyways, the last time I was hospitalized I woke up and felt sick and I would normally in this situation, so I did some insulin and drank a bunch of water and shit but it was just getting worse and worse. It’s hard to describe but it gets so bad that you feel like you literally do not have enough energy in your body to do anything beside lie still. Even breathing was hard. It’s not like being tired but it feels like someone chemically prevented your body from making or using energy. This time was so bad I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital as I previously had, so I asked my mom to call 911. She did and as she was on the phone I really felt like I was dying, so I told her to ask them to hurry. I didn’t want to say more because I didn’t want to freak her out, she was pretty calm as this wasn’t the first time I’d been hospitalized. She got off the phone and told me they were coming from a neighboring city, which concerned me very much. I really didn’t know if I was gonna be able to like, last, until they got there. I did, and they got me to the hospital just fine luckily. I was given an IV with a whole bunch of stuff, insulin and supplements I think. I was still so fucking concerned that I was gonna die, still felt very strongly that I was dying. I wasn’t scared though, it’s weird. I don’t mean that in a “oh I’m so tough I don’t fear death” kinda way, because I do. But I just understood that there wasn’t anything I could do at this point. Either I made it or I didn’t. After my ketones went down and I got whatever supplements in me, the doctor told my mom that I had in fact just about died. I don’t think he said any percentage or bullshit like that but he said I was super fucking lucky, and also an idiot for not doing the insulin, which I knew already. Allrighty, I’ve been writing for like 70 minutes, this was pretty nice actually. I’ll return here tomorrow. 1/3/2018