#but anxiety and depression kicked my happiness to the curb

[just-somedude]

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[igotanidea]

Be careful who you bring home : Morpheus x reader

part 2 is up

request/summary by anon: you know how people get pets for emotional support? reader with anxiety or fear of loneliness finds a big black cat in a park and she is just: yeah, you are coming home with me. cat happens to be post imprisonement!morpheus. he wants to argue, but she quickly takes him to her apartment which is conveniently close to the park. reader cooing to cat: who is my little baby and Matthew seeing it from the street and laughing at his boss. with 142 for reader (maybe he said something while being a cat) and 153 for morpheus.

142 was "it's just your imagination", 153 was "put me down" I might have changed the request a little bit but I hope you'll like it. Also thete is a bit of a twist/ crossover in the story. Wonder if you'll get it :D

***

„Have you ever considered getting a pet?”

The girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in comfy, black clothes sitting in front of the therapist frowned in confusion.

“A pet” she repeated “and why would I need that?”

“You know, it is proven that they have positive effect on people who suffer from depression and anxiety, so maybe this would be a good idea for healing process”

“Do you give such advice to all of your patients, doctor Raynor? Did you give such advice to Bucky, as well?”

“We both know he is not that kind of guy.”

“Really, why not?” the girl shrugged “he had some goats in Wakanda after all.”

“Stop joking around.”

“Jeez, fine. I won’t get a pet. In my current mental state I can barely take care of myself, let alone any other living being. Any other words of wisdom coming from you?”

“Not with this attitude. You may leave for now.”

“You know if I was paying you that would be the shittiest session not worth a dime.” She grabbed her coat and without a word, hands in the pocket left the room and not-so-pleased therapist.

A pet. Good joke. A four legged animal who would wake her up in the morning and at night asking for food or caress. A being that would turn her life upside down since it would require constant care and supervision to avoid destroying her apartment. Nope. Thank you very much. She was good enough by herself. Determined to get her head and broken soul back together and get clearance to get back to SHIELD and field operations. She missed that, but apparently beating up a bunch of bad guys leaves you in emotional trauma and in need of recover. Bullshit! She was an agent, for god’s sake, not a crying mess. Her attitude was far from cheerful and optimistic but just today she had to curb her murderous thoughts since one of her nieces were supposed to visit. Jemma was five years old and was still going through her princesses, pink glitter and unicorns faze. She was a challenge to be around, but definitely worth it. Her father, agent’s sister were supposed to drop her in straight to the house, but just a minute ago she got the message about the change in plans. Since the weather was beautiful and it was not often this time of the year, he took the chance for a little walk in the park and decided to meet his sister there instead of in the four walls. As she approached the park, she noticed her family amongst other walking people. Jemma was running around, picking leaved and jumping into the pools with loud, happy squeals. She could not hold back the tiniest smile on her face.

“She’s gonna get all wet and dirty and then who will tend to that?” the girl mocked while coming closer

“Hm, don’t know. I think at this point she would be someone else’s responsibility.”

“Hello, brother.”

“Hello sister” he hugged her tightly “how you’ve been? Life still kicking you in the guts?”

“I mean, when it doesn’t? You know my line of work….” Her brother was convinces she was just some regular office worker dealing with boring documents, since that was simply safer for everyone.

“Right, so mundane and ordinary…..” he rolled his eyes

“Auntie!” Jemma turned around and run straight to her favorite relatives not caring about the mud she left on her trousers while clutching to her legs.

“Hi, cupcake. Don’t you have to much energy?”

“I have so much to tell you! About the rhyme I’ve learned and some new letters I came across and my friends and everything” little girl jumped around in excitement “And I know a new magic trick dad showed me. But I still don’t quite understand it….” she frowned

“It;s ok, cupcake, we can work on that.”

“Oh, thank god. Like I said, your responsibility now. Good luck.” Girl’s brother was quick to get himself some freedom “just don’t give her too much sweets, you know how she gets after that”

“Yeah, too well. See you in a couple of hours then. Come on, Jemma” she took her niece’s little hand sticky with some mysterious substance “ let’s go home.”

If only it was that easy. They only took a couple steps when the little one broke out from aunt’s grip.

“Look, auntie, a cat!” she run over to the bench where unusually big and beautiful animal was soaking up the sun.  Before he realized what hit him, he was squeezed and carried by a little pair of still sticky hands and it was visible he did not like it.

“Jemma! Leave that animal alone. It may hurt you.”

Do not refer to me as “it”. I am a male personification. And put me down! Immediately!

She could swear she heard something in the back of her mind, but let it go. After all, cats do not talk and she was in therapy for mental trouble so it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Can we take him home, auntie, he’s so sweet, please” little girl pouted

“No. Of course not, look at… him. He is very good looking, so most probably belongs to someone. Not a chance he’s a stray cat. “

“I can’t see anyone looking for him” a couple tears showed up in Jemma;s eyes. “Please, auntie, please….” Great, now she was crying out loud getting the attention of few pedestrians.

“Ok, fine, fine, just please stop crying.”

“Thank you” Jemma stopped her actions in a second and smiled widely showing the jags in her mouth. “I will carry him so don’t worry about it, auntie” she held the cat even closer not caring about him writing in her embrace.

“Just be careful so he won’t hurt you” she warned following her niece, wondering what the hell she got herself into.

I will not hurt this little mortal.

At this point, the older girl was pretty sure she was going crazy. And to think that Raynor wanted her to have a pet to help her mental health, not deteriorate it.

***

“Auntie, look, I made him pretty”

“Mhm, great” she did not even bother to look up from some records she was currently reading “wait, you did what, Jemma?” a second later she came to realization what a five-year-old girl can mean by saying “made pretty”.

“Look, auntie” said five year old was quick to get the cat out from behind and proudly present it. Despite her rather gloomy attitude the older one could not hold back a laugh. Black fur was now embellished  with colorful glitter and was wearing a crown. If it wasn’t for the lack of resources at home Jemma would probably extend her imagination even more.

“Oh” she cooed “look who’s pretty boy” her grin was now getting wider and wider. She was no expert on animal behavior but the look on its face clearly indicated it was not happy with the situation.

“I wanted to give him a braid, but the fur was too short” Jemma saddened

“Don’t worry sweetie, it looks just perfect. Like a ….”

“Princess!” Jemma squealed and turned around with the cat still in her embrace.

“Don’t you both dare. This is humiliating”. Once again there was this little voice inside girl’s head.

“Ok, honey, why don’t you let go of the cat now. I got a snack for you.”

“Chocolate cake?” Jemma asked innocently while playing with her fingers and shyly looking at the floor

“Apple and carrots”

“That is boooooring. And I don’t like carrots” Jemma whined

“Well, too bad for you. I heard veggies give you strength. And then your skin looks healthy and shines almost like the cat’s fur. Wouldn’t you like to look beautiful?”

“I’d rather be smart” Jemma retorted taking her aunt aback with maturity of this sentence “but I guess beauty can help in future. I saw on TV that pretty girls always have what they want so whatever” she shrugged and rushed towards the kitchen where the snack was already waiting for her.

“Unbelievable” her aunt shook her head “but she’ll be busy for a while, so how about we get you all cleaned up, huh?” she picked the cat from the floor and walked towards the bathroom ignoring the writhing animal, who was not happy about forced wash.

Put me down! It demanded again and the girl stopped looking him straight in the eyes trying to check out if she was really going nuts.

“Oh come on, girl, get yourself together. It’s just your imagination.”

She walked straight into the bathroom and started gently combing out the fur. Surprisingly, her action bring the animal comfort because surprisingly to both of them he started purring.

***

Two hours later, tired and sleepy Jemma was picked up by her father and her aunt could finally let the cat out into the wild. It was impossible earlier since the little girl was checking on him every five minutes, refusing to drop this action.

“Sorry about today. “ she muttered opening the door “but hey, on the bring side at least you have a nice story to tell to your fellow cats. Besides, you really are a pretty animal.” maybe it was another impression or the flicker of lights, but it seemed like the cats fur became a bit reddish and he squinted. “go, now, find your owners, get home safe, fella.”

It was just a couple of hours, but the girls was actually starting to think that maybe, hypothetically, Raynor was right about this whole “emotional support pet” stuff.

***

Morpheus bristled and crossed the street. Only on the other side of the road he changed back into the anthropomorphic personification of dreams.

“Um, boss?” his loyal yet rebellious Raven perched on the branch, tilting his head slightly. If he was still human he would probably laugh himself silly.

“Not a word, Matthew. Not a single word about it. To anyone” he reached for his sand and completely ignoring further words of the bird transported them back to the Dreaming “Do I make myself clear” he made sure before entering the palace.

“Sure thing, boss. But it was funny don’t you think?”

“Hold your tongue, Matthew!”

@somest1 @pinksirensong

[lettuceloather]

things that have worked for me to go a month without binging

- no restrictions on what kinds of foods i can eat in my regular meals. this limits my cravings for things so much.

- freezer meal prep. i always have food! no excuses to eat out. i have a variety of food. less pressure to constantly cook every single week when making 6-10 individual servings i can take out of my freezer

- coffee to curb my appetite - this is a given but i had to stop drinking coffee for a rly long time bc my anxiety was so so so bad. i couldn’t handle it

- filling up on water - duh. self explanatory.

- not buying out. the portions are so big and sometimes i will try to eat more than i should bc it’s good. i do the same thing when i cook sometimes. but my next thing i do helps with that

- portion meal prep before fixing plate if eating a serving immediately. fix all equal servings. put the freezer containers away before eating my dish.

- distracting myself with work, house keeping and exercise

- no snacks that aren’t filling or are easy to binge on. if i am burning 2000 calories a day according to my watch, a 300 cal uncrustable will not kill me.

- giving myself grace. not making everything from scratch, buying uncrustables to keep frozen instead of making pb&j, buying precut frozen veggies instead of fresh. it takes so much stress out of meal prepping therefore i have food in the house and won’t buy out or over eat on junk snacks

- just not buying junk snacks. DEEP SIGH. nuts, pretzels, dried fruit etc. i will mindlessly eat and it’s better to just not have it.

this is for ME. this is not a guide. binging isn’t healthy and it doesn’t make me happy so i’m proud i’ve made it a month after the terrible year i had filled with so much loss, injury, surgery, severe depression and anxiety.

i want to kick 2024s ass the way 2023 kicked me

[elliot-needs-sleep]

Slight tw for topics of emotional and physical abuse and controlling relationships from my perspective (it's just me talking about my relationship with my ex)

The post I'm finally confident enough to make!

Healing looks different for everyone. The last 10 months have been some of the worst in my life, battling with depression and anxiety and alot of other things. To me, healing looks like being able to do the things I love again, things I wasn't allowed to do before. Dressing how I want, cutting and dying my hair how I want, writing and gaming again, spending time with my friends and family again after being pretty much trapped for 7 months.

I don't talk about what I went through very much, at first it was because I was ashamed. I'd always told myself that I would never let anyone treat me badly, that I would leave them the second they tried to destroy me, but I didn't do that. I told myself that the second any of my partners laid a hand on me, I'd kick their ass to the curb. And while I technically did do that, I did it maybe 3 months after the fact after continued occurrences where I feared for my safety.

I was genuinely ashamed. I felt weak because I couldn't stop it, I couldn't face her, I couldn't do anything until I let my anger get the best of me when she was out of the house and told her the only time she was welcome back was to grab her things from the porch. For months I debated leaving her and I always chickened out because sure, there were times she was good and made me happy, but they were vastly out numbered by the threats, the yelling, the throwing things, the lying about EVERYTHING, the manipulation, the gaslighting, the coercion into things I didn't want to do, the controlling, and the isolation.

Now, even tho I'm more open in actually discussing it, I don't because I'm rebuilding who I am and I don't want to let it define me, to have people see me as a poor victim and be connected to her forever, because truth be told, I made it out and now I'm stronger then I've ever been, and have a stronger support system now then I think I've ever had. I can speak out about it now, even if the thought still scares me.

Honestly, she terrifies me. While I'm so excited to go home for a bit soon, I'm completely and utterly terrified if seeing her again. But I know this time I'm not alone. I have people that are gonna be by my side whenever I'm out and about who KNOW now about what she did and what she's capable of. I know I can handle it and I'm not alone anymore.

[grahas-gourmet-hamburger]

Hi, I’m Artemis.  I’m figuring out this tumblr thing.  I’ve lurked for a long time, but I wanted to be able to write my many thoughts about FFXIV without word-vomiting at my FC discord all the time, so here I am.  I play on Mateus, Crystal Datacenter.  I might go into my characters later, we’ll see.  I’m also working on carrds for them.

Spoiler tags for FFXIV:

#stormblood for anything Stormblood specific

#shadowbrings for anything Shadowbringers specific

#endwalker for anything Endwalker specific

#6.1 spoilers for (obviously) 6.1 spoilers only.

Anything before Stormblood I probably won't tag. Sorry.

If you only want ffxiv stuff, you can block #not ffxiv sorry to get rid of anything else.

I am: 40-mumble years old, white, AFAB, agender (any pronouns are fine really, but mostly I use she/they), asexual, panromantic, married to a transwoman, recently diagnosed with ADHD, not-so-recently diagnosed with persistent depression and social anxiety disorders.

I am not: tolerant of TERFs, fandom antis, racism, male-bashing, aphobia, transphobia, panphobia, etc.

I'll probably mostly talk about FFXIV here, but I wanted to be clear where I stand on those things because they are an important part of who I am as a person.

About me:

I love parenthetical asides (sometimes nested).

I've been on the internet since 1995. It was via a BBS and really only had access to Archie, but I'm counting it.

I'm a gamer. My first game was Rogue on a terminal workstation in the server room where my dad worked for Southern Bell when I was 5 or 6. I'm not quite PCMasterRace; I have a PS4 and a Switch, but I'd rather play on my PC given the option. Right now, I am absolutely obsessed with FFXIV, but not in any productive way (like, I'm not gearing up to raid or anything, I'm just replaying the story over and over). I also can't wait for Elden Ring in February, even though it's going to kick my ass.

I'm a gamer (the second): tabletop style. Right now, D&D 5e is my system of choice, though I really cut my teeth on Earthdawn back in college and I have a huge amount of nostalgia for it. My partner GMs for us and is amazing at it.

I'm sometimes a programmer. I primarily use PHP, and no, I don't need to hear, for the millionth time, about how it's a useless terrible language and only idiots use it, thank you. It gets the job done, and I have a terrible allergy to significant whitespace so Python is very difficult for me.

I'm sometimes a writer, though I am very sensitive about posting anything that I write because anxiety. I'm hoping to combat that a little here, because Endwalker has inspired my writing more than anything has in years. We'll see.

I talk too much. It's documented. I try to curb the word vomit when I can, but sometimes it just has to get out.

I love G'raha Tia. I love a lot of FFXIV characters, but Raha is my boy. It made me very happy that he finally realized he wasn't a grad student anymore and could have more than ramen for dinner.

I love cats. I am owned by two: Mozzie (like the character from White Collar) and Anya (the vengeance demon). There will probably be photos at some point.

Okay that's enough rambling. It me; this my blog; hello world!

[tinkertayler]

Truthfully I haven't felt this deeply depressed and hopeless since my early 20s when I was borderline s**cidal and heavily abusing alcohol to cope. I'm depressed, stressed, anxious, empty, lonely. But above all... I'm angry. I'm so fucking angry.

I'm angry because I worked so hard to get to a positive, stable place mentally, emotionally, and physically. I worked hard, and I DID IT! I actually liked my stupid little life. It wasn't perfect, I had my complaints, but I managed to kick most of my bad habits, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and negative thought patterns to the curb. I stopped binge drinking (and after covid hit, nearly stopped drinking altogether); I left a job I hated for one that felt more satisfying to my soul; I stopped hating, blaming, and belittling myself constantly; I stopped fantasizing about being dead. I started gardening, cooking, running, reading, drinking tea, and feeling excited about shows, movies, and music again. I started being kind to myself; I started to feel confident and content; I started to love myself, finally, for the first time ever.

I carved out a life that I was able to find joy in, even during the worst of times. Even during this endless pandemic! Even within a world that is metaphorically and literally on fire! Even though I have barely seen my family in 16 months! Even with everything else going on, I had coping skills in place and activities that brought me comfort on dark days. I worked on myself and my attitude and my immediate environment and found a way to bring some semblance of joy, structure, and stability to my existence. I created the safest possible space for myself, a peaceful space wherein I could find something resembling contentment. And I was more or less happy.

...But now, all of that is being undone. All of my work. Everything that was safe, joyful, and secure is being pulled out from under me. My home, comfort, stability, and the life I worked so hard to build are being dismantled and I...I can't do anything to stop it. I have no control of the situation. I am uncomfortable in my own home, unable to find joy in my own life, and I don't know what to do about it.

I hate antidepressants and pharmaceuticals in general, I've had unpleasant experiences with them in the past, but I don't know how else to get through this. I just don't want to feel anything because right now, there is nothing good for me to feel. If I were 5 years younger, I would drink a bottle of cheap red wine until I passed out and call it "coping", but I'm not 22 anymore. I know better. I know I can't put my body through that kind of hell again. I just want to take a pill and I want it to do the thing pills do best: prevent me from feeling anything at all. Want to be sad? Can't. Want to be happy? Can't. I want to be emotionally numb because right now, I don't know if there's a better alternative.

What I do know is the constant stress and anxiety, depression and anger... The sleepless, tear-filled nights... The frustrated, tension-headache days... That shit HAS to stop. It is running me down to what is now the point of physical illness, and I can't keep doing it. If I need to take pills to feel numb, then so be it.

[dw-writes]

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter Four

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: HI GUYS AND WELCOME TO F R I D A Y!!!! Idk about yall, but its been a LONG ASS week!! And it’s about time for some good old Lucifer. And I’m sorry this is a little late (?) but I was listening to a friend drop some scalDING TEA!! AS ALWAYS, if you guys enjoy this series!! Let me know! And if you wanna be added to the tag list, I’ll be more than happy to add you! :D

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix @i-am-fandoms-and-satan

Linda’s office was in a smaller, comfortable office building, with bright windows, soft chairs, and a couch that you sank in to almost too much. She smiled as you looked around her beautiful office, lowering herself into the chair across from you. You drummed your hands on your knees, then pulled one of the pillows over into your lap to hug it tight.

“You’re nervous,” Linda pointed out.

“Oh, my heart feels like it’s gonna flutter up my throat and out my mouth,” you replied with a high, rattling laugh. You stuttered, and felt your voice catch, dropping it into a whisper, “I’ve never done therapy, I’ve never had the money—”

“Well, I know you have insurance,” Linda said with a nod as she grabbed a file from the coffee table. “Lucifer sent over a copy of the card—why does he have your insurance card?”

“He’s Lucifer, I don’t think he realizes he shouldn’t open my mail,” you pointed out. You sighed and fell back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “But, I-I-I can’t complain! I mean….he gave me job, he gave me a place to stay, he’s paying me so much money, and all these perks, and it—” You stopped as you squeezed the pillow, sitting up. Your voice dropped back down to a whisper, “He said it was a favor, all so I could give him a coin? But, I won’t lie, this feels like Sugar Daddy thing? And I don’t? Know what to do about this.”

Linda set your file down. “You don’t know what to do about your situation? Or how you feel about it?” she asked. When you couldn’t answer, she smiled. “Has anyone every treated you this way before? Completely over the top?”

“Uh…no.”

“Have you treated yourself this way before?” she asked.

You scoffed faintly, a small, bitter smile tugging at your lips. “I drown myself in work so that I don’t have to think of myself, so no, I don’t.” You looked up. “I mean, I get delivery.”

“That doesn’t count,” Linda pointed out. She crossed her legs, and frowned. “Why don’t…you tell me about yourself.”

You hugged the pillow and looked down. “Suuure…”

After an hour and a half, Linda sent you out with neatly penned prescriptions – anxiety, depression, and sleep – and her phone number. It was sweet of her to do, and you thanked her multiple times for it. She then demanded you see her every Monday, like clock work, and that if you missed she would find you.

You didn’t doubt that.

So you took the bus, filled your prescriptions, and headed back to Lux, more exhausted than you had been when you woke up. Walking through the doors, you yawned, and stretched, and fumbled your keys in search of your own.

Lucifer grabbed your arm and tugged you backwards, out the door and into the sunlight. “There you are! Do you not have your phone? I’ve been calling you for HOURS.”

“I? What?” You stumbled as he dragged you.

“I have been calling you, yes.” He righted you, smiled, and straightened your clothing with wandering hands. “I know you have your phone, you always have it.”

“Why does that matter?” He headed towards his car, jingling the keys. “Listen, I just got back from visiting Linda, I’d like to relax?”

“And do what, read?” He scoffed as he opened the door. “C’mon, get in. We’re doing some investigation.” You stood still on the curb, shaking your head, shrugging as you watched him roll his eyes. “Please?”

“It’s my day off,” you commented. You waved your free hand around. “Monday?” You let your hands slap your thighs as you dropped them. “I don’t have to listen to you, and I don’t have to get in your car.” You turned away.

“I want to investigate your school mates,” he called after you. You groaned as you turned back to him. “You know, see if there’s anything fishy, I believe is the term. Maybe question your professors.”

“Why?”

“Well that’s what friends are for, of course!” You sighed again, rolling your eyes. “If you’re done with the broody teenage sighing, we can head off.” Lucifer patted the door before walking around the front of the corvette. You climbed into the low seat, shoved your bag between your feet, and leaned back against the seat. He pulled away from the curb. “So? Off to the university, yes?”

You sighed, letting it melt into a groan as you dug into your bag. The water was there, given to you by Linda when you saw her, and you swallowed the biggest of gulps to down your brand new medications. “Yup…”

You felt Lucifer’s eyes on you as you dropped your head back against the head rest. “Alright now, out with it. What’s got your undies in a bunch?”

“Ever since the semester started, just thinking of campus has made me anxious as hell,” you answered. You shook your head. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid? Maybe I really couldn’t take it all.”

“Nonsense!” You blinked at the loud exclamation. It left your left ear ringing and you wondered if your medication had kicked it quicker than you thought. Lucifer pulled over to the curb, turning in his seat to face you once he parked. “What in the world makes you think that, hm? You have, singlehandedly mind you, raised our profits by tens of thousands since you’ve been here!”

“Uh-huh?”

“So, going to the university, it should be simple! You deal with much more stressful situations that a simple paper about ethical dilemmas.” He nodded. “Besides, Kant is an obnoxious knob who worked himself up into guilty knots.” It was hard to agree with him when your head swam. You dropped your head back against the seat again. “Do you want to go? I feel I should have asked that before.”

“No, I told you that,” you ground out. You patted your bag, which still sat in your lap, and held up the bottle of anxiety medication. Where were the side effects listed?

“Oh, what’s this?” He snatched the bottle away and rolled it around. “Interesting that Dr. Linda would give you hard medications, but good on her.”

“Can you not?” You leaned up and took the bottle back, shoving it into your bag. “Look, can we get this trip over with, I really don’t wanna draw this out longer than necessary.”

UCLA’s campus gave you a sense of nostalgia as Lucifer drove through it. Or maybe it was the anxiety medication, it was really hard to tell the difference. As he pulled into a parking lot, you climbed out of the corvette and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Ah. So.” Lucifer shut the door with thud. You squeezed your eyes shut. It rattled your skull. “Where to? The naughty professor—you know, I did always find that trope rather arousing.”

“Can you please keep it in your pants?”

“Rather hard to say,” he answered with a grin. You rolled your eyes and started up the stairs. “I can give it to you, if you’d like!” He hurried after you. “I can go all day!” You yanked the doors open and stalked in, only running smack into the professor you had spoken of—a middle aged man with grey stubble and a full head of hair.

You swallowed, ducked your head, and apologized as you walked inside. Lucifer glanced back at the man as he followed you. “Who—”

“My professor,” you puffed. Lucifer arched his eyebrow as he straightened his coat, turning back towards the door. “No! Please, I—”

“Not to worry, I can speak with him without you, now that I know what he looks like,” Lucifer murmured. He turned to you with a smile that held all the charm of a snake. “Where’s his office, darling?” You motioned towards the elevator with a mumble that sounded like the third floor, and sat on one of the many couches that littered the foyer of the building. You dropped your bag between your feet and doubled over with your head in your hands. “Are you alright?” he asked as he walked over.

“No, no, like I have said for the past hour.” You snapped your head up and stared at him, “I am not alright. This whole thing is a disaster, and I would rather not deal with going through the stress of being here again, Lucifer.”

Lucifer lowered himself onto the seat next to you with a guilty frown. “I didn’t realize that this affected you so much.”

“Are you—” The antique clock in the lobby chimed for one in the afternoon, “—Kidding me?”

“Now, now, no need to swear,” Lucifer chided. He unbuttoned his coat as he shifted towards you. “Tell me, dear, what do you truly desire?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes at him, felt a hum in your ears. “What could I give you that could make you better, hm?”

“What do I desire?” you asked. He nodded as a smile crept across his face. “Right now?” The smile faltered. “To not be here, because being here is torture,” you answered.

“But is that really what you want in life?” he asked.

You shook your head lightly as you stood, snagging your bag from the floor. “What, no, it’s what I want right now,” you replied. You waved at the door. “Let’s go, you can come back and do whatever you want with the professor or whatever when I’m not here.” You propped the door open. “Let’s go,” you ushered, wheeling your arms.

Lucifer patted his pocket as he stood, feeling the smooth coin press against his fingers. “Right, of course.” He followed you out to the Corvette, but stopped. “Where did you say you found the coin again?” he asked as he stopped.

You dropped your bag into the foot well as you looked up. “What?”

“The coin you gave me, where did you get it?” he asked again.

You threw your hands up with a huff, and planted your fists on your hips. “I told you, I found it on the curb out in front of Lux when I was walking past.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t plant it there, did you?” he asked.

Your mouth opened as you stared at him with narrowed eyes. “No, Lucifer, that is the opposite of finding it.” You reached over the door and pulled the lock free, climbing into the seat.

Lucifer nodded slowly as he followed, and turned the car over. He paused as he put the Corvette in drive. “Your professor, what is his name?”

“Manfred Sutherland,” you answered. You looked over as he eased the car out of the parking lot. “Why…?”

“Oh, just curious.” He smiled and it only made you worry more. “This way I can go see your professor whenever I please.”

He dropped you off in front of Lux with a smile, a wave, and permission to raid his penthouse for any alcohol that you wished, then left with little else to say. You swung your bag around and headed back inside, shaking your head. “Whatever,” you muttered, “Go ham.”

[majokkomaimun]

no you know what, full vent rant here, please look away because idfk what to tag this

today has been one of my worst days ever and these are but some of the things constantly weighing on my mind i am currently indefinitely put on hold from my transition for having mental issues, i cannot currently start self-medicating even though there's almost no physical risk to it (fearmongering isn't all that bad at making DIY HRT look absolutely horrifying) because my mom has literally stated that if i start to do HRT myself she will personally kick me to the curb, adding the fact that my mother is actively withholding me from doing something that would help me both mentally and physically with minimal risk with to the threat of homelessness (and probably all my stuff because i doubt they'd let me keep that shit) that they're already constantly using on me merely because i am FUCKING DEPRESSED AND TRYING TO DEAL WITH THAT and forcing me to go out of my way to go do things i don't fucking need like a fucking driving license because bitch when the FUCK will i use that besides this they are also constantly using said threat directly or indirectly because it's hanging over my head even if they may have been not serious about it, whenever they ask me anything i constantly have to ask myself "is this thing they're asking me to do is not disturbing to my mental and emotional health and stability enough that i can make myself go through it to keep them appeased and from them hurting me and or throwing me on the streets" if it weren't for that goddamned threat i wouldn't even be eating dinner with them and i'll be damned if i ever go with them on a trip ever again because being thrown on the streets here would be bad but being constantly close to them forcefully is an absolute literal nightmare of mine and havign that happen in fucking france would be fucking horrifying i feel like i am stuck in a house that is preparing me to rot in the ground and nothing more like, i want to confront my mom about her hypocrisy about not allowing me to DIY HRT or even T-blockers and then turn around and say she'll be here to do whatever she can to help me get better mentally but i just don't have the energy or the fucking safety net to do so like i don't know how my family would react to it but going by the fact i've not been kicked out yet i assume my parents assume they'd dissapprove and like, my brother also gets his own shit but one of use gets like severely more shit for existing than my brother and it's definitely me, likely because i'm the oldest andi should've already have everything figured out, because i'm already 21 and "we were that age when we moved out so why aren't you doing it" completely ignoring the fact that there are massive good reasons i can't which isn't even including the goddamn trauma and anxiety and depression which you had A MASSIVE HAND IN CREATING being near my family drives me up the wall and has me scared shitless because i know that one wrong move might end up with me on the fucking streets no matter the outside situation, i regularly tell them i yearn for death and they just play it off as a fucking joke, in fact they play off most things i said as "silly" or "stupid" or as "a joke" no matter how i bring it because apparently being deadpan depressed and speaking in a dull and dead voice devoid of emotion is hilarious to my parents the only emotions i know how to fake well are cheer and happiness and joking jests and etc, because i've been needing to do that my entire fucking live and i've just grown so used to doing it around them to appease them i just slip into it sometimes and they take taht as a sign things aren't actually all that bad and i'm just fucking overplaying my literal desire to fucking die and i fucking hate this situation i am in with every fibre of my being

i am but a bucket with holes near the bottom and the water i can contain and give you is small, please, just let me be for fucking once. that or just melt me so my matter can be used for something better

my parents are capable of doing upon me everything they have ever made me fear because if they didn't make me fear these things they couldn't have controlled me

[lorentibbs-blog]

Manic Depressive

Manic Depressive.

Every morning he makes me a cup of tea.

Once he even delivered a Harry Spesh- one-part espresso, one- part hot water and one- part steamed milk, to me in the shower. I wondered whether Espresso Cartel could offer this service during alert level 3 in the current pandemic.

“I do not want a relationship”. He looked at me with eyes verging on panic. Our conversation before that had also put me on edge. I had introduced myself and he said ‘I know who you are. We are friends on Facebook’. It had made me feel uncomfortable to have been connected on social media with someone who I did not recognize in real life. He had even come to my flat to collect a costume from my flatmate before the party we were at and I did not recognize him then or now.

 A party on top of a mountain. Well because my life had become rather progressive and trendy from the outside looking in. My flatmates had introduced me into a world of polyamory, sophisticated and successful people who cared about the environment, radical self-acceptance ( I only understood it as a concept at this point), and drug use that took me to places I’d never imagined. Inside however, I was in absolute turmoil. I was very unwell and did not know how sick I was at that point.

We had laughed as he explained that we had matched on Tinder and I had insisted on communicating on Facebook. We had arranged to meet at Toad Hall for coffee but 10 minutes beforehand I had decided it was all too much for me. When I looked back on that conversation, Sebastian had responded eloquently to my crazed blow off message and even said that he had had a lovely morning at the market instead. He has this way of understanding and making you feel human for your flaws rather than an insane nut job. The jury is still out for me on that one

The party itself was too much for me. I had climbed a mountain on LSD with two amazing wahine and then stepped into the lodge which was full of equally astounding people. I was terrified. I made my way to a bunk and clung on to my safety duo, Clara, and Tess. We went through the motions, the costumes, dinner (more vegan options than not), excruciating anxiety, the drugs, the fashion show, and the sex pile. The fashion show had ended with my flatmate Ngairi, whose birthday it was, atop a human pyramid. I dropped some MDMA like most of the party goers had. I had hoped this would curb my anxiety and fatigue. It helped but I did find myself going back and forth between the main room and my bunk all night. At one stage I had been led onto another bunk by my other flatmate Ryan, who was Ngairi’s partner. They are polyamorous you see, and he had asked me if I had wanted to hook up.

I always feel so good the next day after MDMA. I should probably explore why this is. I guess when I am on the drug, I have all these revelations and then the next morning potentially I feel lighter?

So, after 12 hours of stepping into the lodge I was finally ready to introduce myself to someone. 

Sebastian was by himself pretending to look busy with a broom. I enthusiastically (probably the most energetic and social I had felt the whole time) introduced myself and the conversation flowed around depression, anxiety, and Sebastian’s house build. I had suggested that we go for coffee at Toad Hall like we had initially planned to 2 years before. This is where I was taken back with his response of “I don’t want a relationship” it was like he had seen my brain ticking off all the characteristics I was valuing as we spoke. “sensitive, understanding of depression, attractive, a Colgate worthy smile, built his own house, older than me, mutual friends and blue eyes that saw right through me”. Later I would tease him about his panicked response as if I were ‘just’ asking him to go for coffee

Getting to know Sebastian has been a remarkably interesting journey since then and has been the catalyst for much introspection.

As I walked down the mountain that afternoon, I did a lot of self-reflection. I was thankful that one of our trio had left us early and I was left just walking down with Clara Keel. I found it so easy to talk to Clara. I think she found it easy to talk to me too. Even in a manic-depressive episode I was able to make beautiful connections with admirable people. Her girlfriend suffered from major depression and anxiety and was on Venlafaxine. It was very enlightening to hear from Clara as a partner with someone with depression. Clara invited me to go snowboarding with her and her friends over the winter and we promised to see each other very soon. I did not see her again for a long time. Turns out she is outrageously hard to pin down. I am stoked about that though because Clara keeps herself busy with a lot of incredible environmental and political work. We stopped and chatted to various people from the party down the mountain. Our ride Mikey Clementine was running down the mountain and said he was happy to wait for us at the carpark.  We caught up with Sebastian and a crew he was walking with. We walked down with him and I was very aware of him positionally to me. I did not really talk too much. Id taken a mushroom and weed coconut concoction that my ex had made me and I was vibing with the trees and my surroundings. I was very appreciative of the conversation Sebastian and Clara were having and was happy just witnessing it

On the ride back, my mushroom trip was really kicking in. Mikey blew my mind when he described his interest in the dominant and submissive scene. He made a point I have never forgotten and in that moment a switch flicked in my head. He explained that with every sexual session all participants would sit down before hand and have a discussion around their expectations, wants, limits, and fetishes. If either party felt uncomfortable or did not feel like their sexual style matched, then nothing would go ahead. I felt like these conversations should be happening around any kind of sex. It would save so much miscommunication and boundaries being crossed. In the history of my sexual life these conversations were really lacking and had there been space for them that may have saved a lot of suffering. Interesting that this style of sex is viewed in quite a dark and risky light by most but could potentially be the safest kind in terms of discussion, boundaries and consent. Purely because a discussion is expected and is compulsory beforehand.

Ngairi was absolutely filled with joy after her birthday party. We chatted in the kitchen and she was fizzing about the weekend’s events. I began to tell her the story about Sam and I and our failed tinder meet up. She paused me mid-way through and vomited rainbows and unicorns over her experience of Sebastian that weekend. She described their rendezvous in the pile of costumed MDMA cuddle puddle participants. Ngairi was on top of Sebastian in the cuddle puddle.  “Ryan bounced up to me in his bunny costume and I was so happy to see him” she described their embrace as she disclosed into Ryan’s ear “Sebastian has a boner!”. Ryan and Ngairi both giggled and shared a cheeky grin as he bounced away. Sebastian was fingering Ngairi the whole time the interaction took place. As it turned out, Ngairi and Sebastian had fooled around in the cuddle puddle and had intercourse before Ngairi returned to her bunk with Ryan. Later Sebastian would tell me he thought I had known that him and Ngairi had slept together the night before when I asked him if he wanted to go for a coffee. ‘yeah I thought you knew and were still asking me out. I thought wow this polyamory thing is real eye-opening stuff

Ryan in turn had hooked up with a large percentage of the party, me included. When Ryan and I had hooked up I was taken back when he stopped our encounter and told me he was going back to the party. It was interesting to initially feel rejected he did not want to take things further like I thought we were going to. I am thankful for the experience of having someone stop me in my tracks sexually. Anyone can stop any sexual encounter at any time. I guess I was just flabbergasted momentarily as I have never had any male stop me before. I stayed in the bunk and rested after this. Ryan came back to check if I was okay. I was so exhausted, and my brain was very fuzzy at this stage.

I will not deny that I was disappointed when Ngairi had told me about her encounter with Sebastian. In fact, I will go as far as to say I thought “fuck you Ngairi, you have the best boyfriend can’t you be happy with that”. I reflected on this thought process and by the end of the week I was disappointed in myself for thinking this way.

Ngairi Newton chose to live her life this way. She was in a committed polyamorous relationship with Ryan Mcgregor This relationship allowed her to explore any other relationship in any way she liked and vice versa. I had found her perspective on relationships so exciting initially.  Polyamory was a new concept for me, and I had found myself in the household of the most exceptional and liberating relationship id ever heard of.

So how did I find myself in the position I was in? Unemployed, depressed, anxiety ridden and barely coping, living with two of the most inspirational and functional people I have ever met?

I was living with Ngairi and Ryan for the second time. The first time was only a three week stay while I was in between places. I am always in between places as you will find out. I am in between places right now as we speak. And will be 5 times over by the time this story is done.

Emilie my flatmate at the time had invited me to a Halloween party. Emilie was a very bizarre and unnerving woman but one that was difficult to say no to. I remember feeling instantly connected to her when I first viewed the room. We engaged in deep conversation incredibly early on, I mean I do not believe I was there longer than half an hour. We both identified our fathers as the cause of all the turmoil in our lives.  She did not hear me when I first knocked on the door even though I was bang-on on time (sat outside in the car for 20 minutes because I was early). She was on her kitchen floor pulling all the contents out of the cupboard. Her current flatmate had told her about a book that was about de cluttering your life (literally). She had just flown back from a disastrous 3-month trip in France and was experiencing some severe jet lag. She had just cleaned out her wardrobe and I left in a state of glee with all the gorgeous garments this exciting woman no longer wanted. Two weeks into moving in with Emilie I knew I had made a mistake. We found ourselves in a very messy situation in the end that was further complicated by my close friends taking the room I was not quite ready to give up.

 I had realized that I could not live with her. She had taken it to heart when I told her this and somehow my telling her I was thinking about looking for a new room turned into me giving her two weeks’ notice. I guess there may have been a miscommunication. Little did I know how scarce accommodation in Nelson was at this point.  Anyway, through all of this we managed to stay civil and she invited me, like the Gemini she is, to a party the weekend before I was to move out.  We found it difficult to find the party and when we did it was really humming. Turned out to be a party of a woman who I had met before. Again, on the path to finding the right accommodation.  Chrissie and I had met at Claudia’s house. Claudia owned a house I had fallen in love with, the room available was Christie’s room. I did not get the room. This party was a housewarming for Chrissie’s new place. I had enquired about this place as well.  Chrissie had told me over text that she was looking for a new house because she wanted to take drugs over the summer and have more of a party living environment. She then said that she thought it would not really suit me as at that point I had intense social anxiety. Since then I have befriended several people in a circle of friends that Chrissie and I now share. We have encountered each other a few times. Each of those times I have been unwell. She is beautiful, funny, Canadian and she is an engineer. Its hard not to be starstruck by her. I imagine Chrissie and I would get on like a house on fire if I were at my best when I ran into her, I always seem to be unwell though. Emilie is gone within moments of us entering the sea of costumed people. I make a bee line to the table of snacks. And I start munching on chips and dip as if my life depended on it. I am not sure how it happened but I found myself in a conversation with a woman in an amazing shiny pants suit, the blazer atop a sequined bikini top, her face was painted in a Mexican skull design and she had a platinum blonde bob. What a bad bitch. (id never actually say that in real life. Real hero behind a keyboard type stuff)

When Mel, a fellow volunteer from the Wellness Movement, suggested asking her if she would rent out her spare room, I was not picturing Ngairi as the woman in from of me.

I had imagined a 40 + year old slightly chubby Maori woman with a couple of cats. As it turned out Ngairi only had one cat named Espresso. I am fairly sure Espresso wouldn’t have had me if she had had a choice in the matter. Fair enough too as it turns out.

[jennygirl2014]

“Red Is Your Color”-requested fic- Part 1

(A/N:- Here it is, the first part of the request. I hope it finds the nonnie who requested it but nothing I post gets seen anymore so this will probably get lost in tumblr space too. And if it pops up on your dash I hope you enjoy. Oh and I struggle with the whole “Y/N” thing so I just put it in the first person. Sorry.)

Warnings: language, angsty feels.

              Come out and party with us, they said.  It will be fun, they said.  I didn’t know what the hell was so fun about an overcrowded room and terrible music blaring.  It was hot, almost to the point of being sticky.  The smell of booze and cheap cologne and perfume was everywhere, and it lingered when a couple walked by, to the point where I could almost taste it. Maybe I outgrew this sort of thing, maybe I got it out of my system years ago.  Maybe I had changed.  I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve been with someone who didn’t like going out and partying, you end up deciding to stay in with them and cuddle on the couch, or cook a good meal, or play a game of cards.  Sex with that one person seems infinitely better than going out and trying to recreate the same feelings with a stranger.  I guess what’s what maturity looks like.  Maturity also means moving on.  So why was I at some stupid party with the hopes of seeing her, the new woman?  Being glutton for punishment never got me anywhere good.

“Don’t you want a drink?” my friend asked me, leaning in to speak over the booming.  She was trying to dance, bless her heart.  Her lipstick was smeared above her lip, evidence of meeting someone in the bathroom earlier.  I didn’t want a drink, I wanted to see this new woman and then get the hell out of there.  Why was I even invited to that stupid party when everyone knew my ex would be there? It was no secret that we had broken up, after two long, happy years.  I heard the rumors, that he had moved on rather fast, found himself somebody new.  Everyone expected me to do that, to find someone the week after I had kicked him out of my apartment after a heated fight. I denied the rumors, saying that wasn’t like him.  But people change.  I thought maybe I had, maybe he did too.

“No,” I finally thought to answer.  I was far too consumed in my own little world to pay attention to anything else. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“There’s a line,” my friend stated, “Best use the one upstairs to the right.”

“Thanks.” I thanked her for the advice and made my way through the crowd.  Unfamiliar bodies bumped into me, making me grit my teeth. The place was disgusting, and I didn’t even know who it belonged to.   The stairs magically appeared in front of me, finally, and I climbed them with haste. “To the right.” I spoke to myself, keeping on task.  There was a door, blue with chipped paint and a silly fake anchor on it.  It had to be the bathroom.  I knocked, I thought I heard something.  I knocked again.

“Just a second, jeez!” a woman’s voice called out from inside. The door flung open rather quickly, and there stood a woman with disheveled hair and a flushed face.  Her stony cold eyes met mine with a shocked expression, as if accusing me of rushing her out of whatever predicament had her so flushed and out of breath.  I didn’t care about her personal business, at least I thought I didn’t. Not until I saw him.

              There stood my ex, he was against the wall next to the toilet, with a face that said he was as shocked to see me as I was him. His face was a nice shade of pink, his lips parted, as if he was ready to speak but didn’t know what to say. His hair was a mess, his grey Henley shirt was twisted in a way that had me knowing I had just interrupted something. I interrupted him.  With his new woman. Wearing the shirt I bought for him last year.  It would have been less awkward to see him sitting on that toilet than standing next to it, behind closed doors with her.  I peeled my eyes off of him and turned back to see the woman, a pretty little petite piece of angel food cake if I ever saw one.  She quickly yanked the skirt of her dress lower.  And I swear I saw a hickey on her neck.  

              Fuck.  I wanted proof, but I didn’t want it like this, literally staring me in the face. So it was true.  And then I felt it all at once, rage, humiliation, sadness, anger, depression, anxiety, all of it slapped me in the face.  More than that, it slapped me in the face with a brick, punched me in the gut, and then stole all of my candy before running me over with its bike.  Whatever it was.  The truth. It was the truth.  It was the consequences of my actions. It was knowing that I had made a mistake going to that party, looking for proof of that rumor, dumping him and then pretending like everything was fine.  

I had to say something. “Hey Steve.” I was happy to have found words without puking, or crying. Or both.

“Hey…” he said it back. He sounded slightly embarrassed. Or maybe it was just me hoping that he was.  My eyes fell to the floor, not daring to show any signs of the extreme distress I was feeling.

“Are you gonna stand there, or are you gonna move?” she fussed at me.  I cut my eye at her, but stepped to the side without starting a fight.  She stormed out, huffing and offended.  Next came Steve, and I kept my head down, not wanting to look at him.  He walked past me, only pausing momentarily.  I don’t know if he looked at me as he left the bathroom, I didn’t want to know, but I watched as his feet marched down the hallway.

              I stepped inside, closed the bathroom door and locked it.  I didn’t even have to pee anymore, I just needed to be alone.  I took a few steps closer to the toilet and looked around the tiny bathroom, taking in the space that he had just been in, with another woman. Hell I could still smell his damn cologne in there.  Why didn’t I just stay home?  I sat my pathetic ass down on the edge of the tub and looked at the hideous blue and white tiled floor, wishing it would swallow me whole.  How was I going to make my way down the stairs, collect my tipsy friend and get out of there without seeing him again?  I didn’t want to.  I didn’t think I could take it.  But I knew I deserved it, I knew I had no right to be upset.  I dumped him, he didn’t dump me, it wasn’t even mutual. I had no right to be upset.  Right?

“I don’t understand what I did wrong!” Steve raised his voice at me. I ignored him and kept tossing his clothes in a suitcase.  No rhyme or reason, no folding, just grabbing armfuls and chucking.  “Will you just answer me?” he shouted from behind me. I spun around with an icy glare, surely he had to have some knowledge and common sense.

“Have you been listening to me at all?” I thought up a better response, “Oh wait a second, no you haven’t, because you’re never fucking around!” I turned back to my task, getting him and his shit out of my apartment and out of my life. He rushed to my side and tried to pull those clothes out of the suitcase, but I didn’t let him.  I slammed the top of the suitcase shut, catching his fingers and causing him to curse under his breath.

“Stop it!  I’ve already told you! I have to work!  I can’t just quit!” he argued with me.

“Quit, no, nobody expects that of you.  But forgive me, as your girlfriend I was expecting you to make time for me! To show me I mattered even a little bit!  Instead you just keep showing me you don’t give a shit!” I angrily clasped his suitcase closed and stared him dead in the eyes.  He already looked defeated.

“I’m trying.  I’m trying my best.  I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“So, you really aren’t listening then!” I shouted angrily.  Flames were nipping at my skin, I knew my face was red with anger, and yet I could feel tears starting to well.  The thought of him seeing tears at that moment was scary, this was not a moment of weakness.

“So, what’s the plan?” his tone suddenly changed. “You kick me to the curb and find someone with a boring desk job?  Someone who you can push around with that piss poor attitude of yours?  Make sure they’re home every night by six, that they’re paying the electric bill…” he trailed off as he stood up straight and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Shut the fuck up.” The command came out of my mouth without even thinking it through.

“You’ll get bored of the next guy.  Then what?”

“I said shut the fuck up!” I screamed and grabbed hold of the suitcase.  The weight of it caught me off guard once it left the bed, and it dragged me down.  I had to grip the handle with both hands and drag it down the hallway.  He followed me in hot pursuit, taunting me.  

“I’m sorry I’m not around to text or chat every second of every day but let’s be clear, one of the things you like about me is how exciting my job is.  You like the looks you get while going out on my arm.  The recognition my job gets me.”

“Fuck you!” the words puffed out while my body knocked against the hallway walls and the cumbersome suitcase.  It banged on my ankles enough to hurt.  The sliding door to the balcony was only a couple steps away. I would show him how serious I was.  

“What?  It’s true!  You like being in the spotlight!  But how can you stay in the spotlight if I don’t work?” he made his point clear.  It was clear, but I didn’t care.  I slid the glass door open and stepped out into the nighttime air, hearing the bustling of city life below us.  

“This isn’t about that and you know it!” my gaze fell back onto him once again as he stood in the apartment.  “This is about me needing you in my life and you not bothering to try!” I paused as I drew in a deep breath, trying to compose my shaking voice.  “When we moved in together, we agreed, we would have more time for us.  That’s why we did it.  I stopped working late nights at the bar and gave up good tip money to make sure I had time to be with you.  All I’m getting in return is an empty side of the bed.”

“You didn’t need that tip money anymore because I made sure the bills were paid.” Steve brought out the dagger.  “Are you really going to kick me out of an apartment that I pay most of the rent for?”

Fuck him.

“I got this apartment myself!”

“Yeah when you were working two jobs!  You gonna go out and find yourself another job?” That was all it took.  The weight of his suitcase didn’t seem to bother me as I lifted it onto the balcony railing, and I watched his face change. He knew what was coming.  “Don’t you dare.” He warned me.  With a smirk on my pursed lips I released the damn thing, letting it fall down four stories in the air.  There came the most despicable sound as it hit the sidewalk, the impact causing it to burst open and his clothes littered the ground down below.  His face turned a deep shade of red, and I calmly walked back into the apartment and slammed the sliding door shut.  The sound of car horns rang from below, along with a few people cheering and laughing obnoxiously at this poor man’s expense.  

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” he barked at me.  I shrugged a shoulder and gave a partially sarcastic smile.  Partially only because I was rather proud of myself for my deed.

“Get out.” The words cut through the air like a knife. “It’s over.”

“You know what…” he started, panting with anger.  He pointed a stern finger at me, about to go off, I was sure of it.  “You’re crazy.  You are absolutely out of your mind.” His voice was low, warning me.  Daring me to cross him again.  And I had never seen his eyes that shade in my life.  I wondered if that was what his enemies saw, right before he broke them in half.  Still I stood there, plucky and unamused.  

“Goodbye.” I repeated myself.  

“Fine!” he caved.  He was like a flash or boiling rage storming through that small space, through the kitchen, up to the door that he almost ripped off of the wall.  My feet gently padded in his hot trail, following him to the door to shut it behind him, but he still lingered.  

              He stood in the hallway just beyond the door, his back still to me, but I could see his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breath.  I could see the skin on the back of his neck, just under his hairline, where the collar of his jacket didn’t cover.  His skin was a hot shade of pink, sweltering with emotion.  The emotion must have changed somewhere in his travel out of the apartment, because when he turned and I saw his face, I saw what he was really feeling.  His face was flushed, his jawline had softened, his eyes were brimmed red and glassy. It was a face of hurt and loss. At that moment, I thought I broke him.  But there was no turning back after that. I feared that if I stared at his face too long, I might have changed my mind.  Seeing him in that state would easily break me down too, but I couldn’t let it.  

Just don’t speak.

“I loved you.” He said it so soft and so gentle, it was like warmth caressing me.  

Don’t fall for it.

“Goodbye Steve.” I gulped down any other words that might have made their way out, and with that, I closed the door.  

There was a pounding on the door that shook me from my memories. I jumped and gripped onto the porcelain tub.  “Are you almost done in there?” someone’s voice called out.  My cheeks were wet.  Were those tears?  My pride was stronger than any other force known to mankind, so I knew I had to hide those tears.  I wiped my face quickly and then leaned forward to flush the toilet, pretending that I had actually gone in there for some reason.  Hadn’t I?  I couldn’t remember.  I pinched my cheeks, making them rouge and puff a little.  A deep cleansing breath, and I could act my way out of it.  Upon opening the door and seeing the stranger standing there, I placed a hand on my stomach and hunched over a bit.

“Don’t drink too much of the punch.” I told a little tale of lies all in that single sentence.  The man looked at me only briefly before walking into the bathroom and closing the door.  After that, I stood up straight, pulled back my shoulders and made my way back downstairs.  This night had run its course, time to find my drunken friend and get the hell out of there. I saw everything I needed to see.

“Hey!” my inebriated friend was already standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me. “You’ve been gone forever, where did you go?” she raised her voice over the noise.

“Let’s go.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her out the front door with me, not even bothering to look around or ask if she felt like going.  She didn’t put up a fight, she didn’t even resist, she just followed.  Thank God. 

I guess it was true.  He really did change.

Second part here.

[serowoenin]

December 17th

     Today is my third official day of sobriety...from smoking weed that is. I know–funny thing to be writing about or even referring to being sober from. But honestly, I have been having a bad time dealing with my mental illnesses and for the longest time I thought weed was my saving grace. I was WRONG.

   I guess to give you a run down of how I even got here in the first place, at least I think this is where it all started, I have to go all the way back to 2017 and give a not-so-brief-but-not-so-detailed little rundown. Let’s begin:

May 2015- I moved out of my parents at 17 to live with other family because I was having problems at home. In actuality, I was going through some severe depression and didn’t know it…but was also doing angsty teenage stuff so there is that.

August 2015- SURPRISE! Found out I was pregnant a day before entering my senior year of high school. Judge all you want–I know I am such a whore for getting pregnant at 17. NEXT.

October 2015- I miscarried my child, was considered homeless, on the brink of dropping out of school and–had my first suicide attempt.

November 2015- I was in a mental hospital from Halloween until the 17th when I finally moved into a group home. Because I was still 17, I became a ward of the state and entered the foster care system.

December 2017- After a lot of CBT, meeting with a psychiatrist and a difficult face-to-face with my mom–I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder and a bunch of other shit that I take with a grain of salt and don’t let defy me.

February 2016- I met a boy, that boy changed my life–he became my everything. His name was Luke.

April 2016- I graduated high school, turned 18 and–SURPRIIIISE! I got kicked out of my group home because they “accidentally” terminated my case. (Which coincidentally was 3 days after my 18th birthday)

May 2016- Luke’s family took me in and I moved in with his grandmother. She and I became super close and I got accepted into a technical college.

August 2016- I worked all summer and saved up for my own apartment…also started college. But I had to do something that was difficult for the sake of my mentality. 

September 2016- I broke up with Luke. I loved him and it was difficult but I needed time to figure out me. It did not end well. Also lost access to my medication, psychiatrist and well…any mental support I needed. As I had no license or car.

October 2016 - April 2017 Let’s just say I had a lot of fun until I didn’t. I wanted the full college experience. But I missed my Luke…but fuck that we move forward NOT backwards. Smoked weed regularly.

April 2017- I shaved my head bald…and smoked weed.

May 2017- I met someone else and was struggling financially living on my own.

June 2017- I moved in with my new partner and his family to avoid being homeless again and to save for a new place. It was a mistake. He was abusive. His mothers did NOT care but I had no where else to go.

July 2017- SURPRISE! Found out I was pregnant by my abusive asshole of a partner. Quit smoking weed.

August 2017- I moved out because I couldn’t take the physical and psychological abuse anymore. Moved in with friends–but that proved to be difficult as they had their own lives and it wasn’t a good environment for a pregnant me.

October 2017- Moved back in with abusive partner…I know, I know—but he had a way of making me believe he would change for the sake of our child.

January 2018- Went back to school and while things were fine for a few months…old habits started again. 

February 2018- Had a very scary incident that ended in my abuser being arrested and charged with DV/Assault. I still believed him when he and his mothers said he would change….he got out on an OR.

April 2018- POPPED THAT BUN RIGHT MF OUT MY OVEN. Had to go to court 3 days after giving birth–my abuser was put on probation for 2 years and then proceeded to quit his job.

May 2018- The abuse got worse and for the protection of my son I left. Got a restraining order for my son and I. This would be the last time my son and I see my abuser. 

June 2018- Reconnected with an old friend–Luke. I know what I said about moving forward but--mind ya business. I also started smoking weed again.

August 2018- Luke asked for my hand in marriage and we moved in together…he helped me with my KJ every step of the way.

September 2018- Got married to my Luke, felt safe and happy.

March 2019- Nothing really happened from September to March…but in March Luke filed for step-parent adoption.

April 2019- KJ turned 1, we went on vacation for a week in Texas, I turned 21 and my abuser gave our attorney/the courts consent for the adoption. It was over…but the damage was still done and I was still smoking weed. HEAVY. Started working again.

August 2019- My brother-in-law got married. Things were stressful because of problems in my marriage but I had my weed there to comfort me and make it all go away.

September 2019- Had our 1 year wedding anniversary. Still was having problems, but weed made it all go away.

October 2019- Moved in with my Luke’s parents. The adoption became finalized and I got a new job (my previous job had been seasonal). Smoking a LOT more.

November 2019- Adjusting to living with the in-laws…finally addressed marriage problems and worked through them. Smoking heaviest I’ve ever smoked in my life. Quit my new job because they were on some bullshit. (Fuck Target)

     Which brings us to December! On the 14th day of this very fun month I decided I would be smoking my final blunt. Am I against weed? Obviously not. Will I eventually smoke again? Honestly don’t plan on it. The 15th was my first day without weed and I am not going to lie–a bitch wanted to smoke. I was so irritable, angry, sad, happy…every emotion I feel like I blocked out smoking for that long I felt at once. The second day was better but I my had moments.

   The 16th I decided to keep myself busy to curb cravings so I ate healthy, exercised and did crafts with KJ and Luke. It wasn’t as hard falling asleep but staying asleep was definitely a problem. My heart keeps racing to the point where I wake up with severe anxiety and then I fall back asleep. I do, however, have a lot more energy and don’t feel nearly as sluggish as when I would smoke before bed. 

   Finally, we make it to today! I didn’t go into great detail recounting what has happened but I feel like writing it all out int a timeline and processing it will help me with actually dealing with my issues. I am seeking a psychiatrist and hoping to get to a place where my depression doesn’t control me but it will take time. I don’t want to be the way I am–I know I won’t be able to completely get rid of what I have but I do want to take control of ME again. I haven’t felt like myself in so long but I know that discovering and shaping myself into who I want to be as a wife, mother, friend and person will be so much better with the current support system I have. I had no idea how to start my first post but–this honestly seems like a good foundation to me. Eh?

Any suggestions for the next post?

[loneleesoul]

Starker: Slash Pt. 1

This fic takes place four years after the Snap/Decimation. All of the victims have been rescued but still face mental and physical problems.

This story deals with depression, anxiety, self-starvation and suicidal actions.

Peter lies in bed, his alarm still screaming for him to get up, move, do something. He just waits for it to silence again, for the eighth day in a row.

He ignores the buzz of his phone, which is facedown on his dresser. His door is still locked, pretending to be asleep when someone comes knocking.

He still answers when Aunt May's ringtone sounds, not wanting her to regret sending him to live with his so called "mentor" at Stark Tower.

When in reality he's upstate at the Avengers facility as an Avenger.

But he hasn't been on a mission in a few weeks. Last time Steve and Tony had to bench him due to a panic attack. Which was caused by him being nearly drowned in a river.

Right now his good old friends were kicking ass in Venice, a big-shot blew up a hotel. They've been gone for nearly a week now.

Despite Peter craving interaction with another human besides the overly-happy two minute calls from Aunt May, he didn't want them to see him like this.

He hated the way they looked at him with such pity, asking the same old questions. "Are you okay? How you doing? Wanna talk about it?"

No, bad and definitely not... there's your answer. Leave me alone...

He'd much rather be back with Ned building another Lego adventure like they did before Peter lost himself as Spiderman.

Managing friends, school and avenging became too much. He could go see him however, Ned went to work for the FBI to be "the guy in the chair" for someone more kind compared to Peter.

Because Peter kicked his best friend to the curb. He was basically all alone, no one understood. Ned had gone through Uncle Ben's death with Peter, helped him through it. He was the light in the dark pit of hell.

Now Peter was left all alone in that pit, with no flicker of light.

Aunt May's ringtone sounds and Peter sighs, sitting up. His ribs ache, stabbing against his empty stomach. He reaches over with a shaky hand and rejects her call.

He lies back down, tugging the blanket so he's just a floating head full of sad thoughts. He stares outside the huge floor to ceiling windows as the sun sinks below the trees.

He's about to doze off when the answer to all of his struggles came to him. The one way ticket.

It could fix everything, but backfire horribly. His spider powers could work faster, he could get caught. He could lose his powers and have no use to the Avengers.

But the thought of no more pain was too tempting.

He stands on shaky legs and hobbles over to his bathroom. His heart pounds so hard it's hurting his ears. A horrifying mixture of guilt and depression wash over him.

The only thing that stops him from getting to the razors is the thought of what Tony would think.

Tears just silently stream down his face, he stares at the unused blades out openly on the counter.

Tony Stark.

He remembered the confused, scared, broken and horrified look on his face as he faded away. Tony told him how lost and sad he was afterwards. Lost all hope, blamed himself for it.

What would Tony do if he actually died?

He knew of Tony's anxiety and damaged mind, the real shit that he had told Peter after a bad night.

Could Peter really do that to him?

He's interrupted from his dark thoughts when there's a knock at the door.

"Peter."

Fuck it, I can't face him. Not like this...

He grabs the razor blade, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Peter, everyone's worried about you."

Slash.. exposed skin... blood.

"I know things have been tough and sucky since you got back and I can't even imagine the hell you went through compared to my own."

Slash... exposed skin... blood.

"You hide from everyone, don't show up for dinner, never answer our calls.. please don't ignore us, it's not good to be alone Peter."

Tears.. slash.. slash.. so much blood.

No immediate healing.

Slash... slash... slash.. the scent of blood fills the bathroom and reaches the rest of his bedroom.

"I know you aren't sleeping Peter, and May called saying you haven't answered your phone in the past two days."

Muffled sobbing.. blood spills onto the white tile floor.

Stinging pain as he continues to slash at his wrists.

"Peter???"

[conditionaljewel]

I have been experiencing a bit of a revelation as of late when it comes to my body, my well-being, and my existence. 

Last week I made the discovery that I have put on a considerable amount of weight. At the beginning of last year, I used to weigh 160 pounds. When I weighed myself last week, I was up to 190. And for a minute I was a little disheartened and upset by it, because I was trying so very hard to maintain a lower weight and figure.

But then I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror, really started to examine myself, and touch my body in ways I hadn’t in a long time. In that period of reflection, I realized that my body looks a lot better now than it did before at my lower weight. I have curves, I have a figure. It’s something that I’ve wanted to be able to say for a long time, and I couldn’t before, because I looked ~too thin, too frail, too tiny.

Society has ingrained an image into our heads of whats acceptable and what’s not, whats hot and what’s not, what’s sexy and what isn’t, and I’ve kicked that to the fucking curb. It doesn’t matter if you’re big, tiny, thin, fat, tall, short, muscular, toned, disabled, abled, whatever, everyone has their own beauty and attractions and radiation, and we need to embrace that. Our differences are what make us unique. 

Seeing my body now, thick thighs, a bigger tummy, curves all around, I’m feeling more confident because I am looking more feminine, more accentuated. I look more appropriately proportioned for my frame and stature, and I am finding more happiness in my body.

That happiness is leading me to trying to take more care of my physical being; moisturizing, grooming, exfoliating. Which in turn is helping to take care of my mental being, using that time to reflect and meditate, create a routine and continue to improve on it and myself.

I need that time to reflect and curate my mental health because I have been going through a rough time over the past few months. Between dealing with anxiety and panic attacks, depression, and physical illness, I have found myself unemployed for almost 2 full months, unable to find another job for whatever reason, falling behind on bills to the point where my car has been repossessed and is about to be resold at auction, and family issues out the ass. 

And as though the universe was aware of my situation, it sent me a sign that things are going to be okay. A woman whom Ive seen around our complex struck up a conversation with me, and we chatted for over an hour across a few encounters yesterday evening, and by the end of it I had realized that I am in the right direction. She sensed an aura in me that is waiting to burn bright and break free of its restraints, and said that she’s glad to see me where I’m at in my life and has belief in me that I’ll get to where I’m going, while imparting wisdom and life lessons that will stick with me.

I’m going to embrace my stomach and my thighs, my chub and my flub. The obvious trans-pandering problems aside, I’m happy with my body and where I’m at, and have realized I can be in love with myself despite its other flaws. I’m going to keep on flaunting and showing off my goods, and this will continue to spin good energy and ultimately I’ll find myself in a better place than I am right now.

[gho-st-inc-blog]

TL;DR - I had to write some things.

Random blogging: Idk how many of these I've done, but, it's been a really long time.

Song queue: Sithu Aye's Senpai III album

You know...it's been years in the making and I feel like I have figured out I don't have anything figured out, but, there are a select few that are quietly rooting me and others are screaming and others are just talking normally.

I see you all.

I'm thankful for everyone of you.

I need to write this to figure out some new things and memorize new things, so, here goes.

I grew up depressed and some days are harder than others to not fall back into old habits and ways of thinking. I'm thankful I found someone to be with, all the time, though.

This person is my best friend and the only one I really want and need in my life beside me. My loving and caring partner. We're approaching 10 months quickly and I have felt so many things with this person, that, I've never felt with anyone, before.

She's taught me how to keep going, no matter what and try again and again as long as it takes, each and every moment we're Alice.

I don't think I could have asked for anyone better... even though we're on opposite sides of the hemisphere... she's my rock and my strength and everything I've seemed in a partner, that, I've tried to build myself up to with other partners, despite them thinking I was wrong and abusive.

I don't think I've changed much... the only thing that changed, has been the fact I've finally found a receptive partner, that, listened to my words and saw my wants and needs and understood me when I told her I was not OK and I needed time to heal from things.

Anyways... I haven't been struggling nearly as much as I was before with my anxiety and depression, anymore. I kicked my smoking habits to the curb. Both weed and cigarettes. Simply because I don't feel like I need those things, anymore, to help myself cope, because, I've found other things to keep myself busy and entertain myself with.

Those things being the following:

Having goals and someone who shares the same goals who is also working towards them and shows me her goals and ways to support her and let's me support her and treats me well and gives me things and does things for me and the same way around from me for her.

....

I was gonna delete this, but... I think I'll leave this be.

I love her so much, I love me so much...

I've never felt this happiness before 😅

Anyways.

[therealmamaunicorn]

Fertile...or nah?

Starting in the month of January, something sparked within me. I’ve always wanted to be a Mommy, but baby fever got kicked to the curb and full on baby cravings kicked in!

My mind wouldn’t let it go, my body longed to have a tiny human inhabiting it, my heart suddenly felt like a piece of it wasn’t missing yet, wasn’t fulfilled.

Then February happened and the anxiety began…

I spotted for 3 days, had cramps, nausea, headaches, mood swings…*cue Shirley Ceasar* YOU NAME IT!

Could this be IT?! The object of my heart’s desires?! A tiny hooman just for meeee?!

Well….pregnancy results said no. NOPE. Nuh uh. Try Again.

March, April, May….no period. No symptoms. No baby.

I spent hours researching online. Hours spent on Pinterest, planning outfits/ bedroom décor.

Watching as the world passed me by and everyone getting pregnant…but me.

Depression was sinking in, hope was losing. Fear was winning.

A friend recommended a book to me, Prayers and Promises for SUPERNATURAL childbirth by Jackie Mize (which I totally recommend, by the way). It definitely resparked my faith. I now daily pray over my body, my Hubby’s body, and my future baby. I also wear the Ava bracelet, gifted to me by a dear friend.

All of these things so that I can properly keep track of/ prep myself for the munchkin to come. It has helped me tremendously- me and my psychiatric health.

Anyway, beginning of June, I noticed that I was having palpitations; something I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. I couldn’t understand why…it didn’t make any sense. Less than a week later, BAM.

“Hello period, my old friend….it’s been 4 months, where have you been?”

I was relieved! Alas, I menstruate, therefore…I shall soon ovulate! Which could lead to us being able to PROCREATE! AHHHH!!!

Prenatals had been in my routine for months already, but I made SURE not to miss a day, tracking my fertile days like a hawk, my Ava bracelet even told me that I indeed OVULATED (Google Biphasic patterns, tis pretty groovy)!

Couple of weeks after O-Day, I took a test…No baby. Oh well. Timing didn’t feel right anyway. September has been on my heart. No worries.

July starts and somehow so does my period…6 days early? That’s…different…

Rarely do I have an EARLY period, but okay. Whatevs. Its light and kind of slow and splotchy…definitely different, but what can you expect when your period is as wonky as mine? 4 days later, its gone.

Two days after that, I randomly have some brownish discharge? Huh? Whatchu talkin bout, Uterus? My anxiety and stress were already high, so I forced myself not to make it a big deal. Maybe it’s the lighting?

Two or three days after that, I’m at my besties house and decide to go potty. When I wiped….HUGE BLOOD CLOT! ERM…uhhh…fnjewkf nwjkn ejk….WHAT?!

I literally felt the air in my lungs rapidly leave my body and panic set in. I turned on the vanity light nearby and stared at the tissue holding the clot. “Did I…miscarry…? Why is this…What is this…Didn’t I JUST…Do I need to go to the E.R.?”

So many questions. No time for them to be answered. I flushed it down the toilet, washed my hands, and painted my face “Happy and Carefree.”

Once home, I voiced every concern and fear to my Dear Hubby, cried, researched…cried some more. Slept.

When I woke up, full on period bleeding. Like it was before my period drought.

WTF, body. Oh no, baby…what is you doin?!

I guess I just spotted for 4 days and NOW the real thing is here?!

Fast forward to now. As I type this.

Yesterday I found the clot. Today I’ve cried. Questioned. Panicked. Given Up.

Spoke with a lovely lady at my fave nail salon (I’ll write on that soon.)

Went to church, regained some faith. Bled some more

For the first time in over half of a year, I stood up 20 minutes ago and realized that I had bled through my shorts…wow. Okay. Like old times. Runnin like a fountain. Lovely.

This upcoming week, I am making my first OBYN appointment. For the first time EVER.

I’m terrified. I’m a hypochondriac…but I want a baby. I will whatever the hello and goodbye I have to…for my baby to be here.

My name is Sparkle and I believe in Unicorns.

Mine will be here soon.  



[the5sosdumpster]

i don't really see the point tbh

Therapy is amazing. I see a therapist, have for years. I love therapy, I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life and I honestly do not know where I would be today if I didn’t have a therapist. I don’t know you or your story, but I do know what therapy can do. Asking for help is absolutely terrifying. I was shaking and trying my hardest not to cry, but I’m so glad I asked my mom. I just went up to her one evening and said Mom, I want to see a therapist. And she was so supportive of me and she still is, same with my dad. A good support system is so important in your life, which is why it’s important to know who you’re true friends are in this life. Surround yourself with people who care about you and are there for you. People who will come to your side when you need them and who support you when you’re going through rough times or the best times. Therapists are here to listen and help you through literally everything, from crushes to anxiety to shit from your past. I used to have PTSD from some serious shit in my past and I’ve worked my ass off since this past August and now I don’t have it anymore. That doesn’t mean I don’t have anxiety and depression, because I do and that most likely won’t go away, but it does mean that I 1) can get through literally anything. I’ve been through hell and back and I’m still here today, living my life. I used to cry myself to sleep every night and self harm, and I’ve been clean for months because I’m stronger than I think. And you’re stronger than you think. I would not be here today if it wasn’t for my therapist and I absolutely love therapy. Finding a good therapist can be difficult but it’s most definitely not impossible. This is your life and you get to make the decisions in it, if you’re not happy, find someone who can help you. If you’re friends are making you feel like shit, kick them to the curb. Life is way too fucking short to be surrounded by negative people and energy. This goes for all of my followers and literally anyone who sees this. You are loved. You are worthy. You deserve to be happy. If you think you’re mentally not okay, please seek help, whether it’s from your parents or a therapist. You control your life and no one else does.