#hate to write this but my mental health has went down and m' not happy anymore. no one shuld be bullied bc of smething so small.

[the-dawn-star]

ok I m NEVER leaving your account I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE SO MUCH ;-;

this day was mostly bad so I was thinking Dabi comforting reader when he finds out that the girl he knew as reader s bff is a dirty little backstabber that turned everyone against her? and him being lowkey mad for finding out months after it happened? and yeah I know I MIGHT have a little obsesion with him but I just love him so much lmao

thanks <3

You being bullied (Dabi x Platonic!Reader) HC

A/N: Hello and thank you so much about the request! I know this isn't fully what you asked but I feel little bit more angsty atm. Also, my mental health has kind of gone worse so the writing pace has been slower than normal, apologies.

-s

+ not proof read, 1000ish words

Dabi saw something changing the moment that you and your friends fight happened, but like always he is too much of a silent ass, so he didn’t say anything. He saw the changes in your behavior.

He saw the tears in your eyes when you came home that day without saying a word to him, what was highly out of the ordinary.

You slammed your rooms door close behind you and Dabi sighed on the couch getting up, walking to your door. He knocked on the door. “Kid, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine. I'm just tired...,” Your voice was broken and raw but still he respected your privacy more than just to walk in.

“Okay, just tell me if you need anything...,” He said walking back to the dirty couch.

Days went by but your bad mood didn’t leave like it usually did. He could see your bad mood after you got out of school, but you tried to cover it with smile and laughter. He hated to see you like this but he wasn’t the type of roommate who was hands on with your problems.

But slowly your mood got better, he saw your smile that wasn’t the fake one that you showed to most people.

It was just a normal day, but he wanted to do something nice to you. He decided to walk to your school, to the time that your day ended so you could walk together to home and maybe get some food on the way.

Your school was small and in a not so good area that he would have liked. Every day in the past three years he had to fight the urge to stop you from going to that hell hole. But still you had been so happy with going there, and no matter what he couldn’t deny you.

He stood against the wall right outside of the school gates waiting for you to come out of the breaking building.

And there you were. But not the same light smile on your face like normal. Dabi could see the tears falling down your cheeks even when your head was hanging low. You barely realized that Dabi was standing few meters away from you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked shocked with seeing your roommate.

“What happened?” You could see the anger bubbling under his skin because your tears.

“It’s not important...,” You whispered starting to walk, not waiting for him to follow.

You walked in silence even with Dabi asking you about your tears million times. And with every unspoken word his anger grew, until he was ready to murder someone, while holding you.

He couldn’t handle your sadness. And after getting home he was more upset than you. Dabi had to hold your hand that you didn’t run straight to your room, and you could feel the unnatural hotness of his skin. He pulled you to the couch, sitting on the coffee table himself in front of you.

“Now..., start to talk,” His voice was threatening but not for you. He was threatening to anyone who had anything to do with your pain.

You had no choice than to break down. You told him how your friends and you had gotten into a fight and how rumors were spread. How your friends had told you how much of a freak you were for not having a quirk. How you were weird for not living with your parents, and living with a man that no one had ever seen. You told how all had started months ago and how you had cried every day while walking to home for months.

That was it, he had gotten enough. He couldn’t be okay with you getting bullied because things that you couldn’t even change. You were so perfect and full of light, and they had destroyed it.

You two ended up cuddling at the couch watching TV, while Dabi was massaging your back.

The night fell and you were taken over by sleep. Dabi had to smile while seeing your sleepy face tucked against his shoulder. On your sleep you had that light in you, that he had missed so much in the past few months.

The black-haired man slid under you making sure that you didn’t wake up. But you were good at faking, you caught the end of his sleeve making sure that he couldn’t run away.

“Don’t leave,” You mumbled, close with being taken over by sleep again.

“I’m going to get some food for us, the fridge is empty,” He whispered petting your cheek. It was better if you were asleep while he was gone. “Okay...,” You whimpered, letting go of him.

When you woke up again, Dabi was still gone. The sleep had really done a number on you. You got up, getting to the kitchen and opening the fridge door. It was full of food and you took a water bottle out opening it and taking a big sip of the cold water, when you stopped mid movement.

Dabi had said that he was getting food for us...

At the same time Dabi was walking back to home from the popular hanging place for teenagers. You had talked months ago how your friends liked to hang out in the deserted parking lot.

Tomorrow morning people going past the place would only find ash. If he got lucky it would take a while until the cop would realize that the ash was all that was left from bodies.

Dabi didn’t feel any remorse. Your ‘friends’ had screamed when they saw his burnt face without him even doing anything. Dabi had told them how much pain they had caused on you, and how he was going to cause as much pain to them too. How they deserved it.

He took a turn to the closet fast food place that he knew, not really feeling like going to an actual store.

The door opened, and you turned to look at Dabi, holding two paper bags of fast food. You had to smile.

You knew what he had done but still you couldn’t feel bad for your friends. You could feel bad tomorrow, but now you just wanted to eat trash food with Dabi and fall asleep on the couch next to him.

[crystalsmentalhealth]

Talking about the Brattleboro Retreat in Brattleboro, Vermont

I recently spent two weeks at the Retreat and wanted to share my experiences both good and bad about it. 

I arrived at the Retreat in mid-June of 2021 after a four day stay at the Emergency Department of my local hospital. Originally I had not wanted to go to the Brattleboro Retreat because it was such a big campus and I equated that with busy and loud and impersonal. The Retreat would challenge my assumptions.

Getting There

I didn’t drive myself. As I said I spent four days in the ED of my local hospital and so I arrived via ambulance. The ride was stressful and nauseating. I was already stressed and nervous and the mountainous winding roads did absolutely nothing to help. I didn’t lay in the stretcher, but sat in a back-facing seat with no arm rests and with a blood pressure cuff around my left arm. 

The trip took about an hour and except for a few questions from the person riding in the back with me, it was spent in nearly complete silence, which again, did nothing to help my nerves. There was no reassurance or even light conversation.

My Arrival

When we got there, they grabbed my bags for me, probably because I wasn’t allowed to have them yet, and with one person before me and one person behind me, lead me up the stairs to the admissions office. We were met at the door by an admissions person and I was dropped off like an Amazon package. The ambulance personnel left and I was officially at the Retreat.

I was first led to Security. They dropped off my bags with Security, and asked me to empty my pockets. I had none and told them such. Then I was led to an exam room where the woman who was with me found a gown that would fit me and held it up in front of her. I was then told to strip completely. I balked, but obeyed. First went my shirt, then my bra, then I stepped into the gown. Then with that covering me, I wiggled out of my pants and underwear. She gave me a pair of hospital pants to put on so I wasn’t completely bare. Then I was shown a chair and given a pair of huge grippy socks to wear. One size fits all, I guess.

After that the lady took my blood pressure, my pulse, and checked my oxygen levels. Then she took my temperature.  My clothes and shoes were sent to Security with the rest of my things. I had off-brand crocs as shoes so I had no idea what they needed to check for, but off they went.

After the clothing change I was led to an office. I felt so awkward standing in a grey hospital gown, blue hospital pants, no panties, and those huge grippy socks, in front of two nicely dressed office personnel. They let me have a seat and the questions and paperwork began.

What was my insurance? Did I know about the extra inpatient days allowed? Who was my primary care physician? My therapist? My psychiatrist? My case worker? Did I have an Advanced Directive? What are the addresses? Did I want a male or female provider? There were so many questions! 

Then it was sign here, and here, and here, and here, and here.

After that I was given a green folder that said Welcome to Tyler 2 which contained various information that I would need during my time there. My patient Bill of Rights, how to file a complaint or grievance. That sort of stuff. 

Then it was off to another area and now they wanted a urine sample. I had already done two at the hospital and really didn’t need to pee, but I tried. I assume it was for a drug test, but I have no real clue.

Then I was sent off to another exam room, this time for a full physical. She asked me all about my medical history, whether I was having normal bowel movements or not, all about my diabetes, my family history (cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer, heart disease, cancer, kidney failure, cancer), she even checked my reflexes. The ARNP that examined me had the neatest notebook. It was electronic and I was fascinated by it. 

(At the time of writing this I’ve only been home for two full days and I still have a very clingy cat who is currently laying on my left hand so if you catch a typo that kitty has caused me, please let me know.)

After the physical I was given one outfit to wear back, sans bra because my bra was underwire, and I was sent to a seat to wait to be sent to the unit.

The lady who watched over me offered me something to drink while I waited and when she offered milk I took her up on it. Unfortunately it was 1% milk, which I really hate, but hey, milk, so I drank it while I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. Before long a Security guard and a nurse from the unit I would go to came down and led me down one corridor, in one elevator, through a cafeteria, up another elevator, and finally I was on the unit.

Tyler 2 

The first thing I noticed when I got on the unit was that the bedrooms were singles. Yes! I hate sharing my bedroom in hospitals. At the worst, I’d once had to share with three other people stuffed into a two person bedroom. Two poor souls had had to sleep on cots. So I was very happy to see that I would have my own room.

I was shown into an interview room for yet even more paperwork and questions. All this is the business of the psychiatric hospital and it comes at the literal worst time of your stay, the beginning. When you’re scared and your nerves are raw, and your mental health is at it’s worst.

A three question questionnaire was first. Why are you here? How can we help? What are your coping skills? Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation. I don’t know. Reading and journaling.

Then there was a check list of things that helped when I was feeling bad. I was fascinated to see that laying down in my room was one of the options. Most hospitals I had been in forbade that, with some going so far as to lock the doors to the bedrooms during the day so people didn’t sleep the day away. It was a pleasant surprise, and I checked that off along with a few others that I felt applied. 

Then, the nurse, and we’ll just call her Rose, asked me if I was hungry and told me that they always had sandwiches on the unit and that the kitchen which held milk, orange juice, flavored water, cold water, hot water, coffee, teas, and various snacks was open 24/7. I declined both sandwich and snack.

Finally, I was left alone for a couple of minutes and I had a moment to just breathe. It was a Thursday according to the giant whiteboard that had the day’s schedule on it. Most of the groups were over with.

A little bit later a bag was brought up with my clothes and another with the few things I was allowed to have: my Bible; two coloring books; two books (A Street Cat Named Bob and A Wrinkle in Time); my toothbrush, my hair brush, and my composition notebook; were given to me. The clothes I wasn’t given yet. I was told by a nurse that because of COVID they washed everything that came on the unit whether it was clean or not and I would get my clothes once they were dry.

I was then shown my room. Number 219 was to be my home for the foreseeable future. It was a fair sized room, the walls painted hospital blue, the floor had boring brown patterned tiles, There was a plastic chair, a twin size bed with a single pillow, and brown blanket, and bottom sheet. There was no flat sheet. 

There was a set of built in shelves and a small alcove with an unbreakable mirror and large shelf where I put my green folder as well as my other personal belongings that I was permitted to have. I hung around in there for a few minutes before wandering back out and awkwardly looked around.

It was soon 8:30pm and Rose, who was my nurse that night, offered me my bedtime medications. I accepted and went to bed. 

The Schedule

I slept fitfully that night. I was scared, they checked on me every 15 minutes, and it wasn’t quite dark when I went to bed. I woke up obscenely early the next morning, which is very unusual for me, but I attribute it to the uncomfortable mattress, the lack of my comfort item; a stuffed cat named Fat Cat that I sleep with, and the fact that my room had a double window that faced directly East. The sun rises at about 4:45am right now, so it woke me up at around 5:30am that morning.

I wandered out, thinking it was much later than it actually was, since it was fully light out. I sleepily blinked at the analog clock and tried to decipher it. Inwardly I groaned at the time. To kill time, I awkwardly wandered around the unit again, and I think I laid back down for a little while. 

Eventually I left my room again and it was 7:30am. Shift change. I can’t remember who my nurse was that morning, but by 8am it had become quite the busy place with the morning nurses, the mental health workers, the social workers, and the group leaders milling about the nurses station. 

I noticed that the whiteboard had changed with the day, and so I glanced at the Friday schedule.

8am - Breakfast 9am - Community Meeting 10am - OT Movement 11am - Psychotherapy 12pm - Lunch 1pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 2pm - OT Activities 3:30pm Shift Change 4pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 5pm - Supper 6:15pm - Game room/small courtyard (yellow level) 7pm - Wrap Up 8pm - Free Time 9pm - Relaxation 10pm - Phones/computer/TV off

Yes, we had a computer. Some guy we’ll just call J tended to hog it, but so long as it wasn’t group, before morning shift change or after 10pm or 11pm on Friday night and Saturday night, anybody could use it. Of course Facebook and YouTube were blocked, but Vimeo wasn’t. Can somebody please tell me the difference between YouTube and Vimeo? 

I didn’t really go to groups that first day, and I was on Red level, so I wasn’t allowed outside even if I had wanted to. I did however see the Social Worker, a very nice woman we’ll just call M. and my doctor via ZOOM, Dr. L. 

All of the staff was really nice to me, and the unit, which at that point had a census of 19, was actually fairly quiet for the most part.

When 8am hit, and the breakfast trays arrived, I asked where I should go to eat. I was told I could eat on the porch, the day room, or in my room. Eating in peace alone in my room. Yes, please. I took my tray, got a carton of milk, and walked down the hall to my room. 

When I pulled the lid off my plate, I discovered eggs, home fries, and a corn muffin. I also had some fruit. I cautiously tried the potatoes and found them to be quite good, but couldn’t eat anything else so I took my tray back.

I hovered awkwardly around the schedule board until somebody brought me a chair.

Then it happened. My stomach began churning. I went to the nurses station and told one of the three nurses that I had a bit of an upset stomach and could I have something for it? She looked up something and told me I could have some Tums. She sent me to the med window and used some fancy machine to dispense the Tums. I stuck them in my mouth and chewed. I swallowed. It was then that I knew I had made a mistake. I literally felt the Tums hit my stomach, felt my stomach cramp, and then I was vomiting. 

After that experience and the cleaning up thereof, I got my morning meds at around 9am, and soon found myself back in the interview room, this time with a nutritionist. At least I think that was Friday. It could have been Monday. Regardless, I talked to her about being sick (it wasn’t the first time, I had gotten sick back in the ED as well), my lack of appetite, my diabetes, the medication for diabetes I was on (2000mg of Metformin and .5mg of Ozempic). She gave me some information the nutritionist I had talked to from my doctor’s office had already given me, then ordered Glucerna for me three times per day.

Glucerna is the diabetics version of Ensure for those of you who don’t know.

I slept a lot that day, and I’m pretty sure I refused lunch and maybe supper. They checked on me - and everybody else - every 15 minutes, but otherwise didn’t pester me.

The next day, of course, started the weekend. I can’t remember the exact schedule for the weekend, but it was far, far more boring than then weekday. There was just Community Meeting which I wandered into but didn’t participate in, a couple more courtyard opportunities than on the weekdays, more free time, Wrap Up and Relaxation. Relaxation happened at 9pm, but I already considered that bedtime as that was when I got my bedtime medication.

Sunday was just a repeat of Saturday with one bright exception. Sunday Sundaes. At around 2pm we got ice cream with sundae toppings that we could have on it. I don’t think I got it that first Sunday, but I can’t quite remember.

Monday doesn’t bring any particular memories except that that’s when I started attending a group here and there.

Meeting Nathan

Then Tuesday came, and I met Nathan. Nathan was a Psych intern who is now no longer there, so I’m not afraid of using his name. Nathan did 11am Psychotherapy, but had been on vacation the week before as well as Monday. I liked him instantly. He spoke quietly, thoughtfully, gently, and never pressed for answers if the person didn’t want to or couldn’t.

At first, we only spoke in group, but after one group disintegrated into chaos he ended it early and offered to speak to me one-on-one. The one-on-one time I got with Nathan, which eventually became every weekday, became the best, most helpful part of my stay at the Retreat. Some of his questions were hard. They were either highly thought provoking or brought on strong emotions, but he was very skilled in not pushing too hard and always bringing me back to the present if I got too lost in the past. 

I think I opened up more to Nathan in the week and a half that we spoke than I ever did in the two years I’ve seen my normal therapist. 

The Nightmares

I’ve suffered from nightmares for a very long time. In my nightmares I’ve been raped, had my home invaded, seen demons, had my parents stolen away by a dragon (that one happened twice. Same stupid dragon too.), been kidnapped, been chased around Wal-Mart by paramedics with a stretcher, and so on and so forth. The nightmares I suffered at the Retreat were something else entirely.

The dream I remember most, and let me list off some trigger warnings real quick: blood; abortion; abuse; infant death; decomposition; bad parenting; bad medical professionals, was about this young woman who tried to do some sort of home abortion that got botched. She went to the hospital and they sent her strait to surgery where they cut her open with no painkillers or anesthesia. The baby was tiny, but healthy and viable, so they took her out of the young woman’s womb, and haphazardly stapled the woman’s abdomen back together. 

Then the dream began to focus on the baby, but not in linear time, but rather in snapshots. In the first snapshots the baby was fine. Pink, perfect, beautiful little girl dressed in frills. Then the next day’s photographs and the baby’s face was turning black in places. The next; her eyes turned murky and there was more decomposition. Mind you, while she’s decomposing, she’s still alive. Then her little fingers turn black and fall off, and it continues like this until the fifth day when the baby finally dies.

The mother, who was recovering from her own trauma, couldn’t have cared less about her baby.

The nightmare turned weird after that and I don’t remember what happened next, but I continued to have vicious nightmares during my stay there.

Dr. L tried to treat them with Prazosin. but I found that it made my nightmares more vivid. Then she tried to get me in a deeper sleep so the dreams wouldn’t wake me up, but that only got me caught in the nightmares and unable to wake up. 

We never did figure out how to ease the nightmares and keep me asleep at the same time. Right now we’re trying a higher dose of Gabapentin, also known as Neurontin. I guess we’ll see how it works out.

Strange Characters 

There were some...interesting characters at the Retreat. There was one guy who we’ll call J. You may recall him from my complaints about him being a computer hog. He suffered from delusions of grandeur and I believe psychosis. One time I was in the open area near the nurses station he began staring at me suspiciously. Then, after a couple of very awkward moments he asks me, “are you an Imperial or a Rebel?” I told him I had no idea what he was referring to. Miss J who was sitting near by goes, “she’s an imperial, she’s a good girl.” Then J nods and says  “I know she’s my sister in Christ, so she must be good.”

I still have no idea what he meant by Imperial or Rebel. Is it a Star Wars thing? If so I thought the Rebels were the good guys. I’m so confused. 

Miss J was a homeless woman who had been there for nearly nine weeks. She was very nice to me, but she mumbled a lot and I had to keep asking her to repeat herself. 

M was a strange old lady. She would sit at the nurses station and laugh and laugh and laugh as loudly as she could, then all of the sudden she’d be declaring one of the housekeepers an angel on earth and how he should be protected and how everybody else was basically garbage. She eventually got taken out via ambulance.

A was another strange woman. Having been there since May 27th, 2021, she was there involuntary, She talked to herself a lot, drank loads of coffee, walked in and out of groups, and was best buddies with a woman who liked to be called Rabbit, as her real name, the same name as A, triggered her. A and Rabbit were thick as thieves and fed off of each other’s chaos.

Rabbit liked to sing at the top of her lungs when she was happy and when she was angry she would file a grievance, announce loudly that Obama was her father and that you (the nurse she was screaming at) aren’t her boss. She was nice enough to me, but I went out of my way to be as non-intrusive as possible.

Then there was D. D was 30-years-old, claimed to have 12 children. D was volatile, a substance abuser who enjoyed “a drink, some weed, and some coke”. Pretty sure she didn’t mean the soda. D had a shadow who had to write down what she was doing every five minutes. I don’t know exactly why, for the most part, volatile or not, she was pretty chill. She dressed provocatively and the first time she spoke to me it was early morning and we were on the porch.

She asked me why I was there. I told her depression. She asks my why I was depressed. I admitted that there was a lot of trauma in my past. She tells me she’s been (tw:rape) raped all her life, and then proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t be depressed because I was pretty and thin. Now. I’m smaller than D was, because I’ve never had children, let alone 12 of them, but I’m 5′3″ and 210 pounds; thin is not an adjective I would use to describe me. 

She then proceeds to tell me that I needed a better bra. I was wearing a soft low support sports bra, so yeah, my chest area was very un interesting. I told her I was just wearing something I could sleep comfortably in. She told me to shop at Victoria’s Secret for some better bras and I’d feel great. 

After that, D decides to mention the gray in my hair. She says “you should get extensions to make your hair long and pretty, or better yet, shave your head and wear wigs. It’s what the black girls do.” She then went on about how wigs could really look good and how I’d have so much fun with it that I’d forget all about being depressed and how there were some sites where you could buy some good wigs for really cheap.

As I recall, I was fairly unresponsive during her spiel and walked away as soon as it wasn’t rude to. 

The Really Bad Day

I don’t recall exactly what day it was, time blurs for me on a good day, and I wasn’t having any good days while I was at the Retreat, but one day was really bad.

TW: Suicide TW: Self-Harm

I was really, really suicidal, and I told the nurse I was talking to that. She asked if I had a plan, and for the first time I really did. I told her I would wait until right after a check - remember we got checked on every 15 minutes - then I would take a pair of my pants and wrap them around my neck and strangle myself. 

Then she asked if I intended to follow through with the plan. I wanted to, I really did, but I also didn’t want to cause trouble, and that’s a huge issue with me, so I told her no. And that was the truth. I was suicidal, I did have a plan. I had a detailed plan actually. But I didn’t really intend of following through.

As you might expect, she had to report that to my doctor. Dr. L. spoke to me about how I was feeling and later, about five minutes after I had gotten on the computer to use Duolingo to distract myself, (See, I was using coping skills.), the nurse I had spoken to, and who I liked quite a lot, came to me and said that Dr. L wanted them to temporarily confiscate my clothes and take the sheet and blanket off my bed. It was to be replaced by blankets that couldn’t be ripped. Nurse E told me it wasn’t a punishment, it was a safety precaution, but I was so embarrassed and felt punished. I was allowed to keep the weighted blanket they had let me borrow, and my pillow, but other than that they took every bit of fabric in the room.

I don’t know if it was a good move or not. I just know that I wanted things back to ‘normal’, as though anything in a psych hospital could be normal, but the next day I lied to Dr. Lambert and told her I was feeling better. She said I could have my stuff back, but for some reason when I asked a nurse later on, she told me that there were no orders about it from Dr. L. 

I asked again the next day and was finally able to get my linens and clothes back. I even got an extra pillow, for which I was very grateful for as my original pillow had been quite flat and hard.

The Road to Discharge

I was originally supposed to have been released on June 29th, a Tuesday, but I had to admit to Dr. L that I just didn’t feel like I could be safe at home yet. Not to mention that we were still trying to deal with my nightmares and sleep issues.

Dr. L and M, my social worker began giving me assignments to do. I was to fill out a safety plan, which I did. M had me write a letter to my regular therapist about the changes I needed her to make to improve our sessions. I am terrified to read it to her, but I really need to. I was given a huge stack of DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) information and worksheets to fill out, Nathan had me write something about a cousin of mine who had passed away due to an overdose of Fentanyl, and so I wrote her a letter telling her how much I missed her, how I was angry she was gone, disappointed that she couldn’t tell me she was back on drugs, how I was angry at her mom for getting her hooked on drugs in the first place, and ways I could have helped if she had just let me.

Meanwhile, people found out that I could make things out of the Model Magic that they had in the Contraband/Sensory room. I made I can’t even remember how many cats for people. I also made roses, and one dragon. 

I was also writing dark poetry, just trying to purge my dark thoughts and get them out on paper.

Nathan continued to have one-on-one therapy with me each weekday, even if he only had half an hour.

I was meeting with my social worker daily, which they normally didn’t do, but when she realized that I wouldn’t go to them if I needed something, she decided to head it off, and meet with me, even if it were only a couple of minutes, each week day.

Finally, we decided on a day. Friday, July 2, 2021. I was so nervous, but so excited to come home and see my furbaby, Loki. 

When the day came, I dressed in the nicest clothes that I had brought, which was a pair of elastic waist jeggings and my pink Cat Mom t-shirt which everybody loved. I only went to one group that day, and that was Psychotherapy, and I had my meeting with Nathan. I had one last meeting with Dr. L. and my social worker. My nurse that evening gave me my treatment plan which had my diagnoses. (Major depressive disorder, severe; Borderline Personality Disorder; and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Just as supper arrived I got the word that my ride was there. 

Final Thoughts

Being at the Brattleboro Retreat was a difficult experience, but it was also a positive experience. In the beginning I was mad I wasn’t at the place where I had wanted to go, which was the Windham Center, but by the end of my first week there, I had decided to make the best of where I was. I didn’t like all the nurses, I definitely had my favorites and those I dreaded, not that they were ever mean to me, but I’m not sure, there’s just people you don’t like, you know? 

I was on a great schedule while I was there. I was up no later than 8am and went to bed around 9pm, I ate at specific times. I got my medicine at specific times, and that routine was very comforting. Did I keep to it when I got home? 

No. It’s currently 12:26 in the morning and I’m working on this still. 

I’m still drinking my Glucerna, no matter that it costs me $40 a week for three a day, but I just don’t want to eat. Oh, I nibble. I’ve eaten some chocolate graham crackers and sipped on a 20oz Vanilla Coca Cola over the last four days. I just don’t eat. 

I learned, while I was there, that it’s okay to speak up, to take up space, to have a voice, even if it’s quiet, I learned that it’s okay to get angry or ask for help. I can ask people for what I need. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to apply what I learned, but that’s always the hardest part of learning any new skill. 

I know that this has been a huge amount of reading, but I wanted to give you a detailed example of what a psychiatric hospital is like. I hope that it informs you and I hope that if you’re heading to a psychiatric hospital or treatment center that maybe after reading this you’ll have less fear and anxiety because you have some clue as to what to expect.

I would also like to let my readers know that these are just my personal experiences in an American psychiatric hospital. I have no idea about British hospitals or European hospitals or even hospitals in other parts of the United States. My experiences in hospitals in Florida is a stark contrast to my experience in Vermont hospitals. I find Vermont’s response to medical care and psychiatric care in general is substantially better than Florida’s. I’ll do a post on that later.

Ask for help. Take up space. Use your voice.

National Suicide Hotline: 800 273-8255 Crisis Text Line: Text START to 741741

By the way, if you need me to tag another trigger word, please just send me a message and I’ll edit the tags to take your trigger word in consideration.

[nayladoodles]

Dream is not okay

It's sad dreammare time y'all, buckle up!

My mind is a wonderful thing at 2am. It provided me with an idea that I'm very sure has been done.

WARNING: MENTION OF SELF HARM AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Tea: Dream is actually insanely depressed due to literally no one from his au or the multiverse caring about him as a person. They only want to use his aura as a "one hit wonder drug" discarding him once they get what they want.

Blue and Ink are not guilt-free in this either even if they don't do it intentionally.

Dream has hobbies like painting, singing and reading (he likes sci-fi, macabre, poetry and, fantasy). He tries to share his talents with the villagers but No. One. Cares. He is a ray of sunshine. All they care about is getting their daily fix. Dream begins to realize that once people get what they want from his aura they'll leave him.

He hates it. He feels used and lonely. He at one point takes a black apple and feels the urge to take the happiness away from the ungrateful. If he can't be happy why should they? He snaps from these dark thoughts in tears realizing he can't takeaway happiness from nightmare who is the only one who deserves it in his opinion.

He carves a box and hides the apple in it. He also keeps a journal about his life.

When he discovers Nightmare is abused and bullied he is heartbroken. He also has no idea how to approach Nightmare without cornering him like his abusers. As a result dream feels horrible guilt and his depression worsens the more Night pulls away from him.

Desperation/monophobia triggers the 'fawn' trauma response causing Dream to do literally anything to keep others by his side even if it makes him uncomfortable.

At one point (though Nightmare doesn't remember this) he tells his brother "You are going to leave me too someday soon and I wouldn't blame you..."

Nightmare eats the apple a month later and Dream finds twisted satisfaction in Night dusting the villagers. Serves them right. Self loathing returns full force as he is turned to stone.

100 years is a long time to stew in regret and self depreciation.

By the time Dream escapes he's even worse than before but once he joins the stars he has little time for depression. Blue figures it out by observing Dream closely though he at first is the same as everyone else using Dream's aura as a pick me up on bad days.

Dream finds Nightmare again and so they fight Dream's fawn response still very much present to the point of accepting bodily harm if it means he has Night's undivided attention.

One X-Event later he has a new bodyguard and life continues as a fugitive. Ink left him like he expected and Blue was dusted by X-Gaster.

Over time Cross uses his aura to re-center himself and begins to lean toward joining Nightmare's group which again Dream expects.

The "betrayal" is nothing life shattering much to Nightmare's dismay. He captures Dream and imprisons him.

Dream's aura progressively balances out Nightmare's crew and castle which satisfies Dream in a weird way.

He does not attempt to escape after being caught the first time (which was just to save face... he didn't truthfully want to escape).

Nightmare rewards Dream's good behavior by removing the magic restraints he had on him. He expects Dream to try and run or summon his weapon but he does not confusing the hell out of Nightmare.

As a reward for not attempting to escape or trying to contact Ink Nightmare lets Dream explore the castle and one day finds him painting in one of the empty rooms. He never knew his brother was so good at it. (O o f). He watches Dream paint for awhile before noticing the line of red dripping down his arm from under the arm warmers Dream wears. It's definitely not paint.

More confusing still to the other guardian is the wave of negativity he felt from Dream after Cross joined him. The other swears he saw Dream's pained smile drop as the portal closed. These waves of negative energy continue to occur whenever he is around Dream. He figures it's his aura causing it but... N O P E.

The next time he finds Dream painting Cross is also there with Killer. They listen as Dream begins to sing as he paints. He has dark circles under his sockets that were not there the previous time Nightmare checked on him. As time progresses Dream begins to look worse for wear like he did when he first arrived in the hideout. 

8 months later Nightmare realizes that his aura has nothing to do with Dream’s worsening state and decides to confront him about the negativity he constantly feels coming from him. Cross suggests he waits for Dream in the room he was given after his 3rd month of being imprisoned without an attempt to escape (He had no reason to lock Dream in the dungeon after the first month but did so to put his crew at ease). 

He goes to Dream’s room but his twin is not there so he opts to wait for Dream to come back. While he waits he notices an open journal on the desk and a ornate box made from cherry wood. The journal has his old emblem on it and the bookmark is one he recognizes as one he gave to Dream before the “apple incident”. Seeing it warms his soul in a way knowing Dream kept it and uses it still. He notices that the marked section has his name in the beginning of the section and that the writing is faded from age. He knows he shouldn’t snoop in his twin’s personal affairs but he is desperate for answers. 

What he reads in the journal is over 300 years of deep self loathing and despair. most of which is centered around the fact that Dream knew about the bullying/abuse Nightmare went through daily and that he was unable to protect his twin. The pages are full of faded tear stains and darker stains that Nightmare is sure is blood. Dream’s deep felt self loathing and bleak outlook shocks Nightmare and he is VERY concerned about Dream’s mental health. 

He sets the journal back to rights reading the recent passages. More deep felt self loathing which is fueled by Dream developing romantic feelings toward his brother or more accurately having previously established feelings resurface. Dream feels like a sick freak for feeling this way about Nightmare and some words have been smudged by tearstains telling Nightmare that he was crying while writing these entries. 

Nightmare can’t help but be flustered slightly by Dream loving him romantically as he too began to feel more than brotherly affection toward Dream which is why he pushed him away scared Dream would hate him for it. It soothes his insecurity that Dream feels the same and he knows he needs to talk with Dream about it so they can both finally be on the same page. 

Another section of the journal is marked with the darker bookmark Nightmare gave him and the whole section radiates very strong negative emotions. Concerned Nightmare carefully flips to it and what he reads nearly makes his soul stop. Unlike the section about him and Dream's emotions regarding him this section is full of Dream’s darkest thoughts. He barely gets through four pages when he finds this

“No one would miss me...Everyone leaves me once they find their ‘happy place’. I...I just want to bite into it and let go but...I can’t...I can’t leave Nighty alone...not when he just properly reentered my life....I love him too much to....”

The rest is indecipherable due to the heavy tearstains all over the page. Nightmare feels his soul stop and his breaths become ragged as he stares at the small box on the desk. 

Dream doesn’t have one...right...? 

He wouldn’t actually consider...?

Nightmare’s soul pounds painfully in his chest.  A sound from outside the room startles him and he knocks the box off the desk causing it to fall open. Inside is a black apple. The world goes blurry around the edges as he panics his chest tightening as he stares with a blown wide eye at the damned fruit. He can’t breath and his ears are ringing as the attack worsens. His own brother...his beloved Dream was actually

c o n s i d e r i n g....?!

Dream returns to find his brother (and crush) having a severe panic attack on the floor as he stares at the apple in the box. He sighs closing it it up and redoing the latch before putting it back on the desk noticing the journal which causes him to panic not knowing what Nightmare read or how much. 

The movement startles Nightmare who turns on his sibling, “WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT?!” 

“Night I...” 

“WHY?!” Nightmare screams tears gushing from his eyes both visible due to shock and distress. 

“ I WANT TO EAT IT SO DAMN MUCH JUST TO FINALLY LET GO BUT I CAN’T TAKE THAT SMALL BIT OF HAPPY AWAY FROM YOU NIGHT! I... I can’t...no one needs me...or cares...” Dream breaks down in tears seeing Nightmare’s other socket . Nightmare pulls Dream close as they both cry. 

“You’re the only one who *hic* cared about me...who *hic* deserves my happy aura. I...I feel so damn used! All people want is a one hit wonder drug and then they leave! Ink...*hic* Cross... *hic* Blue...I can’t do it anymore! That’s why I don’t try to escape. What reason do I have to *hic* do that? What good will it do? No one would miss me if I ate it..” 

“I would miss you! Please don’t m-make the same mistake I did. P-please Dream!” Nightmare sobs as the tar drips off him revealing more and more of his passive form. “I love you so much! I’m s-sorry for pushing you away! I was terrified that the villagers would hurt you and...and of my f-feelings for you. I should have talked to you instead of hiding.” Night hugs Dream tight sniffling and crying into his brother’s shoulder. 

Cue the LONG OVERDUE discussion they both have needed to have for over 500 years to get closure and to figure out their feelings. Dream’s cutting habit is revealed which scares Nightmare even more and he pulls Dream into the bathroom to properly treat them. He tells Dream he has the same habit and has been struggling to overcome it. 

 They end up curled up on Dream’s bed cuddling under the blanket Dream knitted to replace the old one from their AU that fell apart from age. They decide to start dating but agree to take it slow. Their first kiss is soft and sweet. They fall asleep their souls feeling lighter than they had in years. 

Dreamtale belongs to jokublog

Cross jakei

Killer rahafwabas

[fucker-anon]

Puppeteer Headcanons

K so this mans has been living in my head rent free since I first laid eyes on them (like 2013) so here are my headcanons about their backstories, personalities, and more. Some are inspired by the original stories and lore, some are inspired by other bloggers, some are me self-projecting. Warning there are mentions of dark themes so keep caution. Also i am not a writer, (im sorry) @creepy-bi-day enjoy!!

Puppeteer~

Backstory: 

Puppeteer was born as Jonathon Blake on July 23, 1974

Mother was Hispanic, dad was American. He grew up speaking Spanish and English. He also never really got along with both sides of the family cause he’s mixed (they didn’t like that). They kinda preferred his siblings.

had 4 younger siblings (3 girls, 1 boy). He was 4 years older than the second child.

ever since he could walk he was obsessed with musical theater. For a while his family was able to Johnny to theater camp. Stopped after the 3rd child was born due to financial reasons

parents were working full time to take care of their family. meant Johnny was basically acting like a 3rd parent. good news was he was able to take care of all 4 of them and meet their basic need of being fed, staying clean etc. bad news it meant that he was taking care of them 24/7 and was constantly tired and not taking care of himself. Started to develop symptoms of depression, but couldn’t get help due to the stigmas around mental health + he’s a guy.

got worse in highschool when his work load increased and he wanted to do more in drama and music but couldn’t cause he had to take care of his siblings. He also didn’t make many close friends except for one girl in his drama class Erma. 

Erma was his best friend and they started dating in their second year of highschool. She helped him as much as she could with his mental health, their studies, and even helped babysit some days. They brought out the best in each other. 

Erma loved dance and wanted to become a ballerina, but her parents tried to keep her focus on studies. They did allow her to take theater which she also loved. Her parents were very strict and controlling so she had to hid her relationship.

It wasn’t until the second child turned 13 (johnny was 17), when she started to help out more with the other three siblings (12f, 9f, 7m). Thanks to her help and now they were in a better financial position, johnny was able to join plays and bands which had afterschool practices.

He was really good. He discovered he was born with perfect pitch and was able to get the lead in a play in his final year. This was also when he was able to score a scholarship so some of his uni fees would be paid for.

he decided to major in theater and wanted to go on Broadway or at least become a drama teacher

however when apply for uni, Erma’s parents discovered their relationship and they offered Erma a choice, break up with johnny or else they wouldn’t pay for Erma’s schooling. They hated johnny mostly due to racism and the fact that he wasnt going into a “stable career”. Erma choose to break up with Johnny but didn’t want to tell him these reasons cause she knew that it would upset him. So instead she told him that she’s fallen out of love and wanted to break up.

Johnny agreed mostly to make her happy, but this started his spiral downwards.

Johnny didn’t have any friends other than Erma, he also went to uni in a different city so he didn’t have his family there. His depression got really bad, and he ended up isolating himself and failing first term. He decided to kill himself via hanging. Problem is he wasn't heavy enough to kill himself right away, so he was suffering for hours. 

He spent his last few hours allowing himself to finally “be selfish” and allowed himself to be angry at his family, Erma, and his overall life.

due to this anger, he was able to come back as a ghost, wanting others to feel the same pain as him.

when he came back he was able to change his body into his idea of a perfect vessel, some improvement were making himself taller, better hair, clear face, smooth voice, bigger dick.  and now feeds off of negative energy

Personality:

cold-hearted, cunning, manipulative, a smooth talking, somewhat charming. this is the very carefully crafted version of Puppeteer, He’s the guy who could talk you into doing anything, mostly stuff like jumping off a bridge

however once you get close to him, you see more of Johnathon than puppet. He is very protective of his close friends, will fuss over them and scold them if they aren’t taking care of themselves

good luck getting there tho. After Erma he really had a hard time opening up to ppl due to his fear that they will all leave him at one point. 

Powers:

he feeds off of negative energies, the more trauma the better (finally imma a snack), so he usually influences his victims into a deep depressed state where they off themselves. However once he started hanging out with the creeps (mansion au), he really didn’t need to do that since everyone is a lil fucked up. He just feeds off a little bit of everyone, so that no one is really affected. At this point, he probably has enough energy to outlive the fucking queen

He’s a ghost so he can levitate at most like 10 m above the ground, and if he focuses, he can go through walls and become invisible. 

he has golden strings due to the ectoplasm inside of him (make his eyes and mouth glow to). This strings are like limbs, They are tough to break but if you do its gonna hurt him a lot. They can extend up to 60 ft, and are about 1 cm thick. 

Fun Facts (cause idk how to categorize these)

lots of trauma, need therapy. he feels a lot of shame for what happened and only opens up to his very close friends. again born in 70′s, theres the toxic masculinity and some internalized homophobia. 

still a theater kid!! love musicals and can still sing and play guitar. His vocal cords are a lil more sensitive cause the whole hanging thing, but as long as he warms up, can has the range baby. also has Macbeth memorized

can still cook. while he doesn’t like his past and doesn’t need to eat. He wrote down all of the recipes he knew and will sometimes make them again

dick is 6.5 inchs soft 7.5 hard, i know y’all wanted to know. if also like 6′2 tall. tall big boi

i hc him as pansexual. yea he rather died again than admit that he loves someone, but he won’t care about gender. he still is cis tho.

he does fuck. not often but occasionally. slightly lower sex drive than average 

grunge king. he grew up in poverty and he great at diy. very leans more punk grunge but can be soft grunge depending on his mood. love beanies and his hair is a little longer than chin length with lots of layers. He is tempted to shave off the sides of his head tho. also has grunge and punk music on his playlists.

bad with tech. like the opposite of ben. gets called an old man since he couldn’t figure out how the tv remote works.

he doesn’t grow facial hair, doesn’t like the look.

acts like he’s too proper to cuss, but he does.... a lot

experienced some racism while growing up so he does say ACAB

probably has some piercings or tattoos or both 

still is depressed, has some tough days, but doctor ej gets him pills to help and he has a good support system

shit this was a lot so Helen is next with another post. ill get into their friendship and relationships with other in a whole new post if yall like it. someone tell me if this gives joy cause i could write an essay on this man

[yuna-dan]

1.-Soulmate au with Logince?

If you want a large Logince involving soulmates you can always read my fic Countin’ on you and one of my favorite Impossible Possible

Now that the selfless promo is over…

A long time ago I read a Marvel Fic where when Steve always had Natasha on his wrist and when he woke up from the ice, he had Antony and I was reading some prompts to get ideas and I saw something like that and decided to write it! This idea however it’s not mine, and if I find the fic where this was inspired, I’ll posted here.

I hope you enjoy this, I did enjoyed writing it but at some point I think the story got confusing?? I hope not

Taglist: @awkwardkindanerd @cas-is-a-hunter @theunoriginaldaisy @underthesea73 @mariita-2006 @prinxietyforever @peanut0303

If you wanna be add to the list please interact with this

---Warning: Off-screen bullying. Slight Transphobia. Slight Violence. Cursing.--

Logan was five years old when the tattoo appeared on his left wrist. The name Rosaline Prince was written with a blue and pink ink, with italics and a beautiful lettering for the young kid.

He remembered how when the bullies found him, he wasn’t scared because she will wait for me. When he arrived home and showed his mama his tattoo, his mama kissed his hair and said “She will always be there for you”

--

Logan used to have a treehouse, that he used to escape reality of his parents constant bickering and the bullies who never left him. He was fourteen, and he was too old to have one.

He was going to clean it for the last time, and he got boxes to put all his childhood things there, maybe one day I can show it to Rosaline he thought.

He didn’t see a step, and he fell.

He broke his arm.

The arm where Rosaline’s name was.

He didn’t think about it too much. The doctors have to put a cast on it, and he decided on a blue color (the same blue of his tattoo, that way he could think of Rosaline).

When the doctors removed the cast, the tattoo was heavily crossed out with a large, thick black line.

“What did you do?” He asked to the nurse, terrified.

The nurse was staring back at him, with the same shocked face, “I-That has never happened.”

No one had any explanation.

He cried to sleep that night.

--

The tattoo disappeared after three days.

Logan didn’t even move out of his bed.

-

He was in the school, when he felt a small itch on his right wrist. He didn’t want to pay any attention, because he was doing a test.

When he delivered the test and left the classroom, he noticed that he had a different tattoo, written in red and gold.

Roman Sanders

He felt something on his stomach, his chest tightened, and his vision blurred.

A student was passing by, and Logan didn’t think about he just knew, “Hey, I am going to passed out, call a teacher.”

“Dude, what the fuc-?”

He passed out.

-

When Logan woke up in the, the same student was next to him.

“Dude, you have to know that’s the weirdest way to meet someone.” He started ranting once he noticed Logan was awake, “What the actual fuck, man?” He hissed.

“Yes, I am okay, thanks for asking, stranger.” Logan replied, sitting down in the bed. The guy glared at him.

“I’m Virgil, by the way.”

“Salutations.” Virgil made a face, but Logan ignored him, “I am Logan.”

Virgil snorted, “You talk funny, Logan.” He cleared his throat, “So, uhm, are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?”

“No, I am fine… just…” Virgil stared at him, but Logan shook his head, “No, never mind, thanks for helping, Virgil.” He clutched his right arm close to his chest.

The tattoo was touching his heart.

--

Logan was seventeen when he came out as pansexual, and it turned okay.

Logan was eighteen, when he went started college with Virgil, his roommate and best friend ever since that day.

Logan was nineteen when he told Virgil about his two tattoos.

“... and honestly, I have been researching everywhere and I just cannot find any information about new soulmate bounds.”

“Maybe she died?” Virgil offered.

“Wow, Virge, thank I need that.” He glared, and his friend mumbled a quick sorry.

“I don’t what to say, Lo.”

“I want to hate Roman, and I know I should not feel like that. He’s supposed to be my soulmate, but I just need to know what happen to Rosaline.” He sighed.

Virgil genuinely didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged his friend.

Logan definitely didn’t cry.

--

Logan was on his last semester of college and he fell exhausted, with all the final exams, his parent obsessing over his graduation party, the freaking graduation party…

Yes, he fell exhausted.

He normally didn’t like to buy coffee, but when saw the new coffee shop near his apartment he decided to try it, firstly because Virgil was with his soulmate in their shared apartment.

He sighed and rubbed softly the name Roman on his right wrist. Ever since Virgil met Patton, he felt weirdly sad and also guilty for feeling sad. He should feel happy for his best friend, and yet, here he was running away from their house because he felt sad when he saw them together.

“Are you ordering, specs?” The cashier asked, interrupting Logan’s thoughts.

“Uh, yes, sorry.” He fumbled with his wallet, “A Black Earl with almond milk, please.” The man smiled and Logan felt himself blushing, for some reason. “Anything, else?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine.” Logan squinted, trying to read the tag, “Roman S.?”

Logan felt how the air of his lungs suddenly left, but the man continued to take his order, “What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“For the tea…” Roman said, annoyed at the client. “We need your name.”

Logan spoke automatically, “You’re Rosie.” Roman’s face turned white, dropping the sharpie and cup he was holding.

“I don’t know who you are,” Roman Rosie said, “But you need to leave right now.”

“No, you…”

“No, my name is not Rosaline, my name is Roman Sanders and you need to leave, now!” He screamed, at the top of his lungs. Some clients were staring at them.

Logan didn’t want to leave, but the end he ran away.

-

When Remus entered the coffeeshop, he expected to see his twin and his boyfriend closing up. Ever since they left their dad’s house, Roman has been way happier. He started T a few months ago, and his mental health had been improving.

He was ready to pack everything off and go to home, maybe had some pizza.

He didn’t expect to see Damien and Roman sitting on a table, with a cup of tea, “I think Dad found us.” Was the first thing Roman said when he entered.

Damien was gripping his shoulder, “What do you mean?” Remus ears were ringing with anger, “Did he came here?”

Roman shook his head, and took a deep breath, “A man came. He called me… y’know, that.” He sighed, “I-I told him to leave and he, I don’t know.”

Damien interrupted, “I can take both of you to the police tomorrow.”

“No, mom will get worried.” Ro said, “I just want to forget about this.”

Remus bit his lip, “RoRo, I know but if you think Dad is back, we need to tell mom, and Damien is right, the police too.”

Roman shook his head, “No. I don’t want to.”

Remus was about to argue with his brother, because goddamit, he needed for Roman to understand that they were in danger, when the door opened violently and abruptly. Damien stood up, “We’re close, sir.”

Roman gasped, “It’s you!” He yelled, “I told you to leave me alone!” The man was getting closer and Remus hand was already on his phone, ready to call the police if necessary.

“No. Please let me…”

“If our dad sent you here…”

“No, please let me…”

Damien was standing between them, ready to fight if the moment asked for it Remus fucking love him, the man try to get closer, “Please, Roman, let me explain…”

Damien punched him, right in the eye. The guy was startled and looked back at Roman, who was holding back tears, “Roman, I’m your soulmate.”

The guy fainted.

---

Roman stared into Damien’s eyes, who was staring back at him. Remus wanted to laugh, really, but refrain himself from doing it, this was a serious moment and only a few minutes ago they all believed their lives were in danger, he shouldn’t really find this funny, not all...

Roman ran to check the guy’s pulse, and only then everyone realized the tattoo on his right wrist Roman Sanders.

“Oh my god Damien, you punched my soulmate!”

Remus laughed out loud.

--

When Logan woke up, he was in his apartment. He tried to sit up and winced when he felt pain on his back. He hissed in pain, “Yeah, sorry about that, Logan. No one knew you were going to faint and honesty, no one prevented you from hitting the floor.” Roman said.

“What?” Logan looked up and saw Roman his fucking soulmate in his living room.

“You really need to stop fainting when you meet important people, Logs.” Virgil was laughing between his sentence.

Logan groaned.

--

A few days later, when everything was explained I’m sorry I punched you, I thought my boyfriend’s asshole dad sent you and I’m sorry I called you by your deadname, but everything was confusing.

That was probably the weirdest way to find your soulmate, but they wouldn’t change it for the world.

--

They were in the coffee shop, Logan was waiting for Roman to close everything. They held hands when they walked to Logan’s apartment.

“Y’know…” Roman hummed in acknowledgment that he heard him, “It’s kinda funny.”

“What is?”

“I got your right name in the right wrist…” Logan laughed softly, “It’s almost as if the world knew about it and decided to play a pun.”

Roman laughed, “It is funny.”When they kissed that night, it felt fight, and it was fantastic.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

hello this isnt abt batfam or batman but i saw your age and was wondering how do i survive till 23? i am 18 now and 5 more years is very hard to survive please help

Interesting question. I turn 24 in ten days, and sometimes even I’m not sure. I guess I’ll talk about how I personally stayed alive this long before I try to give advice.

The very first thing I would say is that I am religious, and that worldview makes a difference. I don’t mean that in a “everything happens for a reason” kind of way, and as a matter of fact, I very much dislike that line of thinking. It does a lot of damage, and I’m aware that it rightly puts a lot of people off from religion in general. 

I hold two beliefs that I think are helpful in terms of survival. First, I believe that humans are by nature bad. Counterintuitive in this conversation? Stick with me. Every day, but especially at my lowest moments, I hate the things that I am. In a metaphorical sense, my mind whispers to me that I am selfish, that I am cowardly, that I think bad things and I am capable of worse. I’m hateful, I’m terrifying, and I am absolutely broken. At my core, there is something fundamentally wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix it. 

I am disgusting. I’m several thousand evil things in a trench-coat pretending to be anything but myself, and I’m not fooling anyone. 

Well, yeah. Yeah, I’m all those things and more: manipulative, lying, self-obsessed, angry, unforgiving, and judgmental. I could, of course, go on.

Here’s the thing-- everybody is. I am no better and no worse than any other person in the universe, and though I am ever abhorrent thing, I am. I have the same dignity, the same worth, and the same life as any human anywhere. The dark things are part and parcel of my humanity, but although I am not good, I do good. 

I will never be perfect because that just isn’t possible, but I can be kind. I can be loving, I can be strong, and I can be wise. 

Shit, doesn’t that set me free?

There’s a lot more to this conversation, and the rest goes, in brief, like this: at the bottom of the darkness that is every soul, we have one great fear-- if I am truly evil, no one will ever love me. Good news on that front, there is a God who does. If that’s something you want to talk about, hey hit me up. I’ll evangelize on my own time. 

Back to it. My second belief is a kind of understanding about the passage of time, and it’s sort of hard to boil down into a few sentences, but I’ll try my best. I believe in a grand struggle between good and evil. I know the beginning of that struggle. I know the end of that struggle: that good will win. I am a part of the middle. 

I see my role in the universe as extraordinary small but absolutely necessary. I have a two-fold purpose-- love God, love humans. I interpret both as a call to help others in any way I can, and I think in the way my life has worked out so far, that’s really the most important thing keeping me alive. 

I see all of this through the frame of my religion, but I would argue that everything I’ve said so far is applicable outside of that frame, because a lot of folks get to the same place from a fully secular point of view. I cannot be perfect. I should care about and fight for other people. That’s really all we’re working from here. 

A few years back, when people asked me this question-- how do you stay alive?-- I used to answer “spite,” and that’s not untrue. I am a very angry person, and the grand majority of that anger is directed at what I perceive as unjust acts. I have a deep-seated hatred of establishments (including the established church), and you’d be shocked at how much of a motivator that can be. 

I grew up in an environment that was very intentional in teaching me to identify injustice. Though I have radically departed from many of the teachings of my childhood, the part about fighting for others was something I learned at day one, and that bit has stuck around. For the most part, I grew up in an environment where everyone was on the same page about it. 

And theeeeeeen I went to undergrad. Hello, Texas A&M. I hit campus as an 18 year old fully incapacitated by anxiety. I was the kind of person who didn’t-- in fact couldn’t-- speak in front of others. I had always lived my life in a way that minimized myself, because if I never spoke, if I never disagreed, if I never drew attention, I would never make anyone angry. I knew from experience that angry people hurt me, and I was afraid of pain. 

Then I experienced the absolute shenaniganry of conservative Texans. The culture shock sent me to space and back, and on the return trip I decided that I couldn’t be quiet anymore. 

I learned to speak my freshman year so that I could scream FUCK YOU. It was incredibly painful, and I can’t tell you exactly how I managed it other than I was angry, and I didn’t want to lose. 

I fought a similar battle on my homefront against parents that didn’t know how to deal with a daughter that disagreed, or even worse, a daughter that wasn’t okay. I wasn’t a perfect child anymore. I knew I had anxiety, I knew I was depressed, and we all knew who I blamed for that. They hadn’t been the perfect parents they thought they were. 

I found myself growing, little by little, into a person that could write and argue and hold her ground. That’s personal growth for sure, but it didn’t necessarily help my mental health. As a matter of fact, my health declined all through undergrad, and in my third and final year, I cracked.

I was desperate. I was isolated. I was flooded by fear and despair, and I was falling apart. I don’t remember huge chunks of undergrad because I was so depressed that the memories didn’t stick, but I do remember my tipping point.

It was something small. The ceiling fan in my bedroom was broken. The lighting chain worked fine, but if anyone pulled the fan chain, the whole thing would stop working. I mixed up which chain was which, pulled the wrong cord, and broke it for the fourth time. 

For some reason, that was it. I lay down on my floor and cried for an hour, and while I did, my mind went to, as the kids say, a dark place. Finally, I called my mom and begged for psychiatric medication, something I had always been afraid to ask for. At the time, my parents believed that antidepressants were overprescribed, and they mocked parents that let their children take them. 

At around the same time, I was deciding what to do with my life. I was about to graduate, and I had always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Instead, everyone in my life pushed me towards law school. I didn’t know what to do, but I began fantasizing, not about going to law school exactly, but about being the kind of person that could go to law school. 

I knew that law school would be entail public speaking and constant conflict and the kind of work that would be hard for a person who sometimes couldn’t leave her bed. I wanted to be someone who could do all of that, but I didn’t believe I was.

Enter Donald Trump. Post-November 2016, I struggled to understand how something like that could happen, and I watched everyone else deal with it too. I began confused, moved to distraught, then returned to what I always am: angry.

January 2017 was the inauguration and shortly afterwards, the “Muslim ban.” I read the news on my bedroom floor, and there was one specific part that stuck out to me. There were pictures of lawyers flooding the airports. There was a court case headed for SCOTUS.

I suddenly realized that one group-- one very select group-- was doing what I was powerless to accomplish. I hated establishments, and there was one group that could challenge and change them. Some people could fight in the way I wanted to, and those people were lawyers.

I have a very distinct memory of looking into the bathroom mirror of my third-year apartment and thinking, “I will be miserable for the rest of my life, no matter what I do or what career I pick. I might as well be a miserable lawyer.”

So I took my antidepressants and I went to law school. I’m not going to rehash everything that happened there in this particular post, because in this topic, I don’t think it matters. The relevant part is that I went, and I had my reason why.

Sure as hell can tell you that law school wasn’t good for my health. The last three years have been, in terms of sheer stress and despair, the worst of my life. I picked up a self-harm habit, endured consistent humiliation, cycled through six different antidepressants, had horrible relationships, and developed a psychotic disorder. Don’t get me wrong, there were good things too. I met people that are important me, and beyond that, I grew. 

I know that 18 year old me would be absolutely flabbergasted by the woman I am now, cracks and flaws included. I wouldn’t say I’m healthy or okay, but I am more healthy and more okay. I’m coming out of this mess with the institutional power I wanted, and now I get to decide what to do with it. 

I was wrong three years ago when I looked in that bathroom mirror. I know now that I won’t be miserable for the rest of my life. I’m going to be happy someday, and to the parts of me that say otherwise: fuck you. I’ve learned to say it now. 

I graduated law school this week, and this month, I’ve felt better than I ever have before. I’m singing again, I dropped two medications, and suddenly, everything is so, so funny. I’ve been laughing so hard my face hurts the day after. 

This is a huge turning point in my life, so I’ve been meditating on my past. I’ve come to the conclusion that in most of the ways that matter, I won. My family has been forced to accept what I am. I became the person I wanted to be, even though I thought I wasn’t capable of that. 

I know for sure that there will be times in my life where I hit rock bottom again, and that’s not gonna be fun. It’s likely that with my mental health issues, I will always have to work harder than my peers to get the same results. That’s unfair. 

I also know that high points exist, and I will have them. I am having them, and I will again. 

I guess in recap, I know that I have deep flaws and ugly parts, but I am at peace with that. I know that I must help others, and in pursuit of that goal, I became a person I like more than the girl I used to be. 

You have exactly the same potential. I want you to know that whatever you are now, that’s not your forever. Circumstances change, and you will change too. We’re human, you and I, and that’s an exciting thing to be. 

Your worth comes from your humanity itself, both evil and good, not the things you do or the fights you win. You never have to compare yourself to others because you are exactly the same as everybody else-- no better, but certainly no worse. You’re a person. That’s enough. 

I’m telling you all those things, and as advice, I’ll say this: get angry and fight. Fight for others. You can help them, and you should. Fight for yourself. You are worthy of respect, and everyone else should give it to you. Fight yourself. Any part of you that preaches despair is wrong. 

Find the thing that makes you angry and use it. Things are fucked up! There’s a lot to be angry about. I put it this way to my classmates, now my attorney peers: you get one hill to die on. What’s your hill? Go and defend it. 

Here’s an interesting thing, anon. Your hill can be yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re right. Five years is a lot, and all the years beyond that are more. Take your antidepressants and go.

[reylo-trash-4ever]

HELLO REYLO FAM!!!

Wow... I am incredibly nervous about posting this because I haven’t shared my writing in years, but the incredible @lana-n95 gave me the idea when I made my prompts post, and I just rolled with it and made it an entire fic. SO HERE YA GO! 

Shout out to @scav-eng-er for being my Reylo Soul Mate and literally giving me the courage to do this!! I couldn’t ask for a better support group in @mojona1999 and @firethebluesky as well! You lovely people are who keep me going and I promise I’m working on getting us all a group chat so we can be friends for life.

This will be updated fairly regularly, but please do not expect a lot yet. I’m working towards bi-weekly, but for right now, this is all I have. I hope you enjoy! EEK!!

“The Game” - a Reylo AU

Universe: AU/Modern day New York

Rating: M (this chapter only has some mild language and sexual themes)

Word Count: 3629

Pairing: Rey and Ben Solo

PART ONE:

The New York winds were especially biting that December morning as Rey made her way through the bustling streets of the city. She wove in and out of passersby as everyone went about their day, each individual having separate lives, separate troubles, and separate dreams.

Rey had quite a few dreams of her own, but they were sometimes hard to make into reality. She had worked her ass off to get to where she was today, though. It was a great and classic story; a ‘nobody’ girl who came from the rural countryside making it big in the city. She’d always been passionate about helping people and doing what she could for the underdog, probably because she had felt like one all her life. Nobody thought she could do it, but she graduated at the top of her class in almost every subject, excelled in sports, and even dabbled in the theatrical arts when she had time. Her determination and hard work didn’t leave room for many friendships, but she didn’t mind putting all of that behind her when she moved to the city to study law.

College was good to her. She finally met some people she would call lifelong friends. She studied hard, and she learned harder. She was still kind of a ‘loner’ at heart, never really being the person to be seen out at parties, bars, or clubs. Every once in awhile she let herself go crazy, but it was rare. So much so that her friends started calling her “The Black Cat” because it was such a shock, and slightly unnerving, whenever she actually showed up to events. She knew the superstitions and implications surrounding a black cat, and she easily could have taken offense at the nickname, but Rey secretly liked it. Let her be known for her sly, hard work and mystery, not how well liked and popular she was or wasn’t.

It was this mentality that ultimately landed her a job as an intern at Skywalker and Associates straight out of college. It was a miracle from the stars that she got accepted into one of the top law firms in the state so soon after graduating. She didn’t really believe in a “higher power”, but something up there in the infinite galaxies must have been on her side. She knew she was good, and had the potential to be the best, but she had never before had the resources due to her upbringing. The opportunity was something she would never be ungrateful for.

It had been almost eight months since she started interning, and already she was making her way up in the company. Her dedication to cases and her keen eye for detail had gained her the attention of some of the more prominent names in the office and she hoped it was enough to be the next Jr. Partner.

Rey pulled off the street to step into a small coffee shop. A little bell chimed as she pushed open the door and the wondrous smells filled her nose as she took a deep breath in. The warmth filled her body and was almost a shock coming from such a drastic difference only seconds before, but she welcomed the comfort.

She stepped in line and perused the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. It was the same thing she always got - a french press, dark roast with just a little bit of half and half - as she was a woman of pattern and repetition. Getting the same thing day in and day out had never bothered her. It was safe, it was what she knew. Why risk something that would rock the boat? Even though she didn’t normally believe in “luck”, she didn’t want to risk it today. This was her chance to finally start doing real cases and to work on projects that would make a difference.

“Would you like to round up your order and donate to the Children’s Hospital for the holidays?”

The barista’s voice took her out of her own head after she had apparently told them her order without thinking. Rey smiled and nodded her head quickly in response. She felt in a ‘giving mood’ that morning. Send as much “good karma” out into the universe as she could.

“Thank you so much, and have a nice day!”

The words faded into the hustle and bustle of the crowd as Rey stepped away and waited for her drink. She dug her phone out of her pocket and soon got lost in social media, scrolling mindlessly. Friends and distant family passed her screen, seeming to all be living happy and comfortable lives with their loved ones.

Rey had always wished for that kind of security and ‘home’. It was one of the reasons she worked as hard as she did, so she could hopefully someday give that life to herself. The one she never had, but always wanted. Her mother passed away when she was in grade school and her father left before she was even born. Being an only child, her uncle had offered to take her in, but he was a bachelor with a demanding job and very little time for another human being besides himself. He wasn’t the worst person in the world and they got along well enough, he was just never really much of a ‘parental figure’. She learned early on that she would have to find her own place in the world, and her fierce determination was set from that moment on.

She didn’t know why this was the morning of reminiscing, but something about the possibility of change must have had her brain in that mode. Rey brushed off the weirdness as she got up out of her seat after hearing her name being called. She made her way through the crowded cafe and grabbed her coffee.

She turned to leave, thanking the employee behind the counter again over her shoulder, when suddenly, she was almost knocked off her feet by an incoming stranger. She caught herself and her coffee, thankful for the lid stuck solidly to the cup, and turned around with a glare.

A tall man with broad shoulders and dark, shoulder length hair had been the culprit. His tall frame towered over her, but he seemed intent on barely even acknowledging her in his attempt to rush past. She caught his attention though, and he turned to look back at her over his shoulder. Rey, astounded by the audacity of the stranger, continued to glare and silently dared him to apologize for the discrepancy.

The man simply blinked at her for the briefest of moments, a glint in his dark eyes as they gazed back at her with an air of pride and so little remorse that it sent a shiver down her spine. Then, without a word, he continued on his way as if he had never hit her at all.

Rey scoffed angrily and whipped around on her heels as quickly as she could to get out of the coffee shop, now with a sour taste in her mouth. Some people are just assholes, she concluded as she once again walked out the door. A gust of blistering cold air hit her face and she closed her eyes. She tightened her scarf around her neck and pulled it up so that it was covering her nose, trying to shelter as much of her face as she could. God, she hated the cold...

***

It was as busy as always at the office. Rey quickly got lost in her work, and she didn’t realize how much time had passed before she heard her co-worker, Rose, calling her name.

“Do you ever take a break?”

The short cropped, black haired girl crossed her arms over the top of Rey’s desktop computer, forcing her to break from her work. She couldn’t help but smile when looking up into her ever cheerful, grinning face.

“I don’t have time for a break,” Rey said, trying to see past the distraction.

“I admire your dedication,” Rose stood on her tiptoes to lean over and look at Rey’s computer upside down. She was one of Rey’s favorite coworkers. Unlike the other women, she didn’t sit around the office and gossip all day, but had just about as much dedication to her job as Rey did. Well, almost as much.

“Did you hear about Rex and Ava?”

“Oh my God, no! Did they hook up?”

The chatter of the women standing behind them was too much for Rey. The office was notorious for rumors, especially of the romantic kind. Apparently, the people who worked there were infatuated with who was dating who, who had an affair with who, and who slept with who. Personally, Rey wanted nothing to do with it and couldn’t care less about the love lives of her coworkers. Unless it was Rose, but one of the things Rey liked about her was that she was pretty private and kept her personal life separate from her work life.

“I heard they got lunch yesterday and-”

“That’s crazy! I thought she was seeing that Lando guy from Brooklyn-”

“Look,” Rose said, “you eventually have to take a break. You know that, right? It’s bad for your mental health to be so busy all the time. And it’s kind of required by law.”

Rey smiled at her friend. “I know,” she said, placing her palm on Rose’s head and softly pushed it back so that she had to move off of her computer, “and thank you for caring, but I’m alright.”

“You would let me know if you weren’t, right?”

“I heard that the CEO’s son was going to start here in the new year.”

“No way! That arrogant jerk wants nothing to do with his father’s company. And he’s supposedly a real ‘ladies man’.”

“But I heard he’s super attractive and has that ‘rich bad boy’ vibe. Wouldn’t that be so hot?”

“Well, I have to admit, that would be a welcome change around here.”

Rey tried to drown out the distractions of the noises and she managed to plaster another reassuring smile on her face. “Of course I would.”

“It’s a long shot, but we’re all getting drinks at Naboo’s, that new cocktail bar down the street, if you’d like to join us?” Rose asked, motioning to a few of the other women who were all filing behind her and collecting their coats and respective purses. Her dark eyes begged Rey to come along, and she hated to disappoint, but she knew she didn’t want to go.

“I wish I could,” Rey said with a hint of genuine sadness in her voice, “but I just have so much work to do. I was planning on staying a little late tonight anyway.”

“Well, you can’t blame me for trying,” Rose chuckled with a shrug. She turned to leave and gave Rey a little wave over her shoulder.

“Have fun without me,” Rey called after her as she walked away, grabbing her own coat as she passed by the coat rack.

“Would be more fun with you,” Rose teased. There was a small ding and the now collective group of men and women who were leaving for the day clamored into the elevator.

Rey watched as the doors slid shut and just like that, it was silent in the office. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and sighed with relief. It was always nice when she could be here by herself. She found that she got more work done with less distractions. She wouldn’t be there that late anyway and her bosses didn’t mind as long as it helped further the business. Some of them were still working in their own offices, so she wasn’t completely alone.

She grabbed her laptop to take to the conference room and finish some paperwork on a particularly difficult case. Although, she quickly discovered that maybe not taking a single break that day, even to eat, was probably an issue. Her stomach growled and at first she tried to ignore it, but when her hunger headache began, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it up for too much longer.

With a long sigh, Rey stood and made her way to the break room. Taking a peek through the floor to ceiling windows, she could see the city all lit up for the evening. There was something special about New York at night, but especially around the holidays. People had candles in their windows and hung colorful lights on balconies and railings and really wherever they could find space. She loved upstate, and not just because of the expensive look of her surroundings and the other rich things it had to offer, but because the city really did look stunning at night. Like a million, twinkling stars, but unlike the unreachable night sky above, if you reached out to touch them, they were almost in your grasp.

***

After making a quick protein filled smoothie, Rey went back to the empty room to finish her work. Only, when she got there, she discovered that she was not alone.

A man lounged in her chair, his back towards her. Without even seeing him standing, she could tell how tall he was just by how far his legs extended out from under him. He was sitting with his feet propped up on another chair close to him, one leg crossed over the other, and he was staring at her open laptop. The light from the screen illuminated his frame and she couldn’t see past his thick shoulders and broad upper torso. Something about him was so familiar to her, but she didn’t care enough to think too deeply on it as her focus was more caught on how he was snooping in on her personal case.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” She said sharply, expecting to see him jump in surprise at being caught, but he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, she heard a calm, deep voice come from the opposite side of his large body.

“I’m reading.”

The response was simple, but the tone of it made her feel like she was the stupid one for even having asked the question in the first place.

“That’s my laptop,” she said plainly, taken off guard and not knowing how else to react.

“Is it? That’s interesting,” the man sounded bored and Rey thought for a second that he didn’t even seem to be listening to her at all.

“I’m sorry, but can I have my seat back? I was working on an important case.” Rey took a few defiant steps closer, trying to be as brave as she could. Something about this man unnerved her and she was suddenly very aware that she was alone with a stranger in an almost completely empty and dark room.

“I can see that,” he said, reaching a hand up to his face and rubbing his chin, “you’ve missed something important in your report though.” He still didn’t turn to her, but his other hand appeared beside him and he wiggled two fingers, motioning for her to come over to him. Rey felt her face heat with anger and embarrassment. How dare this strange man try to correct her on her case. Who did he think he was, anyway?!

Against her better judgement, Rey couldn’t suppress her pride and she realized she had to know what he was talking about. She’d looked over this case for almost an entire week now, and she was sure there was no way she could have missed a thing. It was a pretty cut and dry case, anyway. A man cheated on his fiance and she was suing him, hoping to make him pay for all the money her and her family had already spent on the upcoming wedding.

“What are you talking about?” Rey asked bluntly as she stepped over to the man. She leaned over his shoulder and squinted her eyes in the laptop light, trying to find the discrepancy she was sure was nowhere to be found.

“Right here,” the man’s deep voice was directly in her ear and she could feel his hot breath on her neck, instantly sending shivers down her spine, “the report says that your client’s ex-fiance cheated on her with another woman. That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not, the evidence proved that he was seeing another woman while they were together, and one of the witnesses all but admitted to being his mistress. It’s a cut and dry case.”

“Except that he wasn’t seeing another woman. He was seeing three.”

“Excuse me?!” The accusation was so outrageous that Rey had to turn and give the man the most incredulous look, and when their eyes met, she suddenly remembered where she had seen him before. The scene from that morning in the coffee shop played in her mind like a rerun of a bad TV show. Her breath hitched in her throat as he stared back at her with a wry smile on his lips.

“The sample of hair they found on his suit coat the night of the supposed affair is blonde. The color of your witnesses hair is a muted brunette,” he began to explain his reasonings, never breaking eye contact with Rey while she stared dumbfoundedly back at him.

“That’s only two women. You said there were three.” She stood up straight and looked down on the dark haired man who leaned back further into his seat to keep her gaze. She knew her response was weak, suddenly doubting everything she thought she knew about this case and hating herself for missing something so obvious as that. But she was still determined not to let this stranger get the better of her.

The man’s smile faded and he moved from his seat, slowly getting up. It seemed to take him an impossibly long time to rise, but when he stretched to his full height, he towered at least a good foot above her. He looked down at her with little interest in his eyes, as if he had just gotten bored of their conversation and was bothered by her presence.

Suddenly, he was leaning in towards her and Rey’s hand instinctively grabbed the pepper spray she carried in her jacket, but the man reached past her and pulled over a plastic baggy full of evidence. Rey’s breathing was heavy with a mixture of fury and fear as he grabbed the bag and pulled it towards him.

“The perfume found in his car is an original vintage bottle of Versace made in 1983. There are only a few of these rare finds left and their price runs around one thousand dollars a pop. Judging from the size of the pocket books on both of the ladies he was seeing, neither of them could afford such a luxury. Which of course suggests that he had another, more prominent and wealthy woman on his hands.”

Rey swallowed hard and tried to keep her expression as blank as she could, but he was making too much and too little sense at the same time, and her head was spinning with confusion. Who did this arrogant bastard think he was to come in here and completely destroy her work like this?

“Not to mention, I happen to know the lovely lady who owns this particular bottle,” his fingers traced the side of the bag and he looked at it with such a perverse smile that it made Rey’s stomach turn, “She can be very… persuasive when she wants something. Her father, who owns a tenth of the real estate in upper Manhattan, will do everything he can to fight the scandal. Which means new, expensive lawyers on the defendants side and probably a lot of shaddy underground work to get him out scotch free. I have a feeling your client isn’t going to get the money, if anything, as easily as she thought.”

The silence that followed was excruciating. Rey was shocked by the revelation and the ridiculous outcome of this case she had been working her life away on. There was no way that they could have hidden this from her, was there? Her mind raced with all the possibilities that this could mean and she scrambled to find a way, any way, to turn this back in her client's favor. Could she beg for a settlement and at least get some money to the poor, mistreated woman? Or maybe she could convince the judge that this was a gross misuse of trust and blame emotional manipulation? There had to be something, anything...

“Or,” the low drawl of the man’s voice as he drew out the word snapped Rey out of her spiral. His black eyes glittered once again with something she couldn’t place and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a cocky smile as he wiggled the evidence in his hand, “this could just be a regular old department store perfume bottle and I was simply fucking with you.”

Another silence filled the room and Rey found she couldn’t breathe again. What… the… hell had he just said?

“I-I’m sorry, what?” She hissed her question and the smile on the man’s face grew wider.

“That was fun, sweetheart,” his condescending words made Rey’s blood boil, “let’s do this again sometime. When I need comic relief in this shithole of a job, I’ll look for you.” He stretched his arms behind his neck and sauntered around her, making his way out of the room. He stopped in the doorway and turned over his shoulder to give her a taunting wink.

“See you around.”

*to be continued*

[saltysatellite804]

I don’t really know why I’m writing this (to vent maybe?) or where I’m gonna go with this post but I’m just really depressed lately. And I need some sort of outlet.

When I first joined fandom space in 2013-14, I wrote almost exclusively non-sexual content. I carried a lot of homophobia then (I was young, hadn’t been exposed to queerness, and I’m still stuck in the same conservative hellhole now as I was then, but….). Anyway, I felt like I had no right to approach kinky or gay content. And straight sexual content had little appeal to me.

I fell in love with an m/m pairing.

I felt I had no right to engage with it though. So, I didn’t. For a couple years anyway. I think 2016 was when I finally attempted to write for it. It wasn’t a bright and happy and pure  pairing, but I felt I did it justice. At the time I secretly read dark fic on the down-low because I was ashamed of my enjoyment of it. I went to great lengths to justify my interest in it… But also felt like I was Ruined™. I had it pounded into my brain that the only Morally Good sexual content was between m/f and was only okay when they were in True Love and Soulmates (basically my mothers’ beliefs).

So, I made connections with others who liked the m/m pairing. Found out others also liked dark content and talked openly about it, engaged with it. I decided to dip my toes in that water of darker stuff. The people in these spaces were far kinder to me than my family would be if they knew about my truths… And these dark stories? Helped me relieve some dark things in my mind. And no, I don’t want to elaborate. That’s my business. It was a lot of fun and very cathartic and good for my mental health.

Finally, I was comfortable with myself, and who I wanted to be in fandom. Shortly after, I realized I wasn’t straight.

I started out on ff.net forums where I loved to discuss story thoughts and ideas with others. After getting into gay content, I wound up on discord servers for my pairing, with spaces that were much more predominately queer.

My recent hyperfixation landed me in borderlands with rhack. I see this as the point where I finally embraced that I like dark shit and that it didn’t make me an evil person. For a year, it was pretty fun, good. I knew of anti sentiments but they were small and whispy and everyone rolled their eyes at it….for the most part anyway. Maybe see some idiot in the tag like…once a month.

Recently. Though.

I can’t look for rhack content anymore. And I definitely won’t ever venture into general fandom. Trying only landed me tons of people calling me an abuse and rape apologist and everything else you can imagine.

All over FICTION.

Fiction has been dark since the dawn of human imagination! And y’all are shouting this from a position of a game that was created by a capitalist hell-company that made a game that treats violence and dark themes in a light-hearted joking manner. (this isn’t a jab at the game, just at the hypocrisy. But fuck gearbox’s CEO anyway)

I like to think I have a fairly thick skin. But I still get a rush of adrenaline and fear and anger when I see this shit. I can’t deny that.

I tried to stay in my own lane. Live and let live. But…

Tumblr banned the kinda content I post. So I went to the last space there were rhack shippers still posting. Twitter.

I regret that so much.

I just wanted to share my content lol.

Okay so…block and move on. I have. I’ve been blocking like crazy since I first seen this shit but I still, STILL can’t fucking escape this shit. Every time I search for any content, I there’s a good chance I’ll see it. I LITERALLY HAVE TO MENTALLY PREP MYSELF BEFORE I GO LOOKING FOR CONTENT TO BE READY TO COPE WITH THE SHIT I’M GONNA SEE. Worse, worse, worse, was when I started seeing this shit from the major rhack content creators in fandom. People who get tons of love and reblogs and comments and kudos and make amazing and thoughtful works-

It’s so fucked, y’all.

I don’t know. Maybe I am fucked in the head for liking dark stuff? Everyone seems to think so but for like…ten people. Do I really know? I do know I’ve never once wanted someone to befall sexual harm irl. Or any kind of harm… Idk. It’s…confusing. The dark things were always personal anyway.

But the events of the last couple weeks were the worst experience I’ve had in my entire time in fandom. Twice, people venting about antis were attacked in our very own rhack server for being pro-kink and pro-expression. Just last week, found out Twitter is moving towards a porn ban. The amount of content I like, has dwindled. And the rhack community is moving firmly towards antism.

And fuck I can’t take it anymore. There’s no safe places left in fandom for people who like “unhealthy” fiction (which is anything that makes another person uncomfortable these days). I left my problematic ship servers because of the attacks and having to see shit from the content creators who hate my guts. I left because I’m so fucking depressed and I can’t interact anymore without wondering if the people I’m talking to hate my guts or not just because I wrote Bad Thing™.

Actually, what might be worse, is the rise of “it’s just an opinion” about anti attitudes.

Yeah, calling me an abuse apologist and fetishizing freak is just an opinion. Sure. Fuck off.

Fandom was where I went to escape the shitty life I have. And now I don’t even have that anymore. I feel so rudderless now and I don’t know what to do with myself. I miss all the good times. I miss my friends. Miss my passion and happiness.

Feels like there’s nowhere to go.

[randomlerson75]

Stuff people at my high school have said or done

• “I’ll just pretend I broke my ankle. I’ll limp a little”

• “You’re face doesn’t even have many bones”

• “Do you wipe your ass with your fingers”

• “I look cute though so I’m saving it”

• “They’re not dirty minded they just have a sexy brain”

• “This is not a good situation now. I’m not happy”

• *sleeping in class and randomly screams* “STOP!!!”

• “I’m coloring my weed symbol”

• “I stretch pretty violently I’m sorry”

• “I look like I’m more full of life than you”

•”I’m a good person” “haha ok”

• “I’m gonna round it to the nearest 11”

• “You don’t always have to swallow”

• “What a fucking time to be alive”

• “why are you harissing me”

• “That’s why you turn around and punch him in the face”. “I don’t have time”

• “You are the highest grade”

• “Does it taste normal”. “No it tastes good”

• “Why are we all up in this cold ass blueberry”

• “The sun can’t be that hot”

• “I could have overreached but that would make me stupid”

• “I’m all muscle bro, it’s tight on me”

• ”I’m a stripper that’s how I make my money”

• “You’re my mom” *talking to the teacher*

• “Are you high” “just get it off”

• *laughs normally* “you sound like a pedophile”

• “Pinkie ring until I roll”

• *about to jump off a cliff in a video for free diving* “push her”

• “Capitalism is ok”

• “It’s so funny how you can be alive one second and dead the next”

• “Change the m in marijuana to a j. Jarijuana”

• *teacher puts desk in the hallway*

• “He smoked water”

• “You can’t speak Latin” “Can you?”

• “May I acquire a pencil” “yes you may” “have a blessed day”

• “I’m going to write a book about how depressed I am”

• “God has forsaken me”

• *girls trying to stab each other with scissors*

• “I got a pretty long weenus. It looks like a penis”

• “My skeleton is twerking”

• *draws a skeleton twerking* “this is why it’s fun to learn art”

• “Why does he have eye holes?” “He’s a skeleton”

• “Don’t get my businesses ”

• “YOU ARE A WHORE”

• “love is so good”

• “Happy 17th day of birth”

• “You know it’s cold when you walk outside and it’s cold

• “why are you smiling like a creep Jess?” “That’s my normal face”

• “I’m living my best life, right here right now”

• *About thirty kids doing nothing but snapping*

• “Yes, I am very racist about smart boards”

• “I used to be like ;) but now I’m like :|”

• “Physically I’m here but mentally I’m still at home”

• “Emotions are like hurricanes. They never go where they are suppose too”

• “it took me a whole 27 minutes”

• “I would pay for the fire alarm to go off again”

• “Why did we get such a gay name like Florence”

• “this is my dad” *points to Albert Einstein

• *A REAL debate on wether to rip the clippy part off of mechanical pencils*

• “Not gonna lie. I grinded a friends marathon this weekend”

• “FINISH THE TEA”

• “You should know to never mess with another persons tech deck”

• “She has a thing against white people even though she’s white”

• “Speak of the devil. All white, what a fright”

• “You are a children”

• “You think a bull in a china shop? How about a bomb in a restaurant”

• “Me do”

• “I cheesed myself”

• “I never said I was going to jump you at Bojangles”

• “Knitting is VERY fun”

• “I’m not good enough, I’m great enough”

• “North Korea, South Korea, Same thing”

• *drops pencil* “NOOOOOOOOO”

• *light flickers* “excuse you”

• “You can make Australia bigger?”

• “Why don’t we burn people at the stake anymore for doing crimes. It was proven very effective”

• “It’s like I went into the pits of hell”

• “Can I borrow her crutches” “She has a lot”

• “You have arms?”

• “I was born thick”

• “I wasn’t sick I was drunk”

• “be a good person. Go go go”

• “Lotion and ravioli”

• “It smells like weed in here”

• “F*ck oxygen”

• “bring it back tomorrow or you die”

• “Tables are for glasses, not asses”

• “Stick it in between her boobs”

• “A lot of religions end in ism” “Christianiaism”

• “I just want someone to snort my ashes. That would be cool. Mix it with a little cocaine”

• “The United States of Australia”

• “Clark Kent who. I’m kidding, that’s not even Spider-Man”

• “Mental cheese”

• “Your blood is not supposed to make whistling noises”

• “Who sleeps on a Friday night”

• “A whole ass race”

• “that’s a sexy button” “I know right”

• *Screams* “and....”

• “Judaism is neither a religion or race”

• “Have you ever met someone and thought ‘wow. I would feel no remorse killing you’”

•“I hate this school with a burning passion”

•“Beep beep in your seats”

•“What is wrong with the world? The simulation is breaking”

•“What if we’re each other’s dad”

•“You use mental gymnastics to get around your head and get what you want”

•”You can’t just roll up to North Korea. You have to beat me in bingo”

•*teachers wear a dress and played despacito on the trumpet*

• “He’s a stingy boi”

• “A for anarchy? Dude i wish”

• “shut up I’m choking”

• “The snack the smiles back” “GOLDFISH!!!”

• “Where’s the pointy boi?” “I don’t know. I have the thick boi”

• “Dude. Fish can’t talk”

• “Stop taking my eraser” “it’s a ruler” “it can be whatever it wants to be”

• “A female vacuum is attractive”

• “I can love you but not like you”

• “I am mother gothel mentally, physically and spiritually

• “Mother gothel is my religion”

• “IM GETTING A COW!!!!”

• “It’s like Leonardo Da’Vinchi but instead it’s Leonardo Decaprio”

• “I wish I had some crippling disease. Schizophrenia would be nice”

• “I’m gonna kill someone for the rush of adrenaline I’ll get. I’ll get pumped, then I’ll work out”

• “Should I become an important political figure”

• “My cats might have eaten him”

• “Who else is trying to overthrow the government”

• “Where’s our kid?” “He looked at me funny and I had to teach him a lesson. I flushed him down the toilet”

• “I text Jesus all the time”

• “You are a saucy boi”

• “Your neck is really soft. Do you know that?”

• “Um. No professor. I don’t give a fuck”

• “Bro I look like a whole ass beetle”

• “You know? I’m definitely going to hell. But I’ve accepted that”

• “We need to go to the woods and have a collective cry”

• “Moths = whore”

• “Can we watch more food videos”

• “Just outlive the old people and health care prices can go back to normal”

• “Let’s just start the gladiator games again to handle population”

• “I’ll be Michael Phelps”

• “Don’t you just hate it when Nolan steps on your 69 Barbie head”

• “He’s so 20”

• “LITTLE BOY! WHERE ARE YOUR NIPPLES”

• “You guys disgust me”

• “I thought I had a good nights sleep but then I stood up and was like ‘oh no’”

• “you look better as an apple”

• “Why the fuck does it smell like weed in here. Mrs. Burch be blazing it up”

• “What is the coast of South Carolina growing” “Fish”

• “Why are we here on Halloween but not on Thanksgiving”

• “Even though I’m 18 I still might go trick or treating”

• “All minors should be allowed to trick or treat”

• “Tomorrow is not today, is it?”

• “ah yes, the glorious uno and dos”

• “I think Kanye is a crackhead”

• “Like. She’s not hideous”

• “Casserole and Gatorade?”

• “That’s what Google’s for girly”

• “this class has corrupted me”

• “You stepped on my fat”

• “What would Jesus do?”

• *Squeaks kazoo in anguish*

• “We’re going to watch a video about the depression” “weird, nobody has been following me around with cameras”

• “Approximately 50 minutes till ice cream”

• “Did you know heroin is not good for you?”

• “I have the constant need to fight myself and my demons”

• “what the hell?” “I know”

• “you are crack-a-lakin me up”

• “I have no muscles so what’s the point”

• “Flex on the legless”

• “didn’t that movie come out in November? Fifty shades of green?”

• *County music blares from another class down the hall*

• “I got a twin brother” “What’s his name” “Pj”

• “Keep the iPhone in your ear”

• “Super white red lipstick”

• “They just need a lot more dollars”

• “Don’t be like Anthony” “Isn’t he your son”

• “There’s a lot that needs to happen in the next.... today”

• *Plays bagpipe music walking down the hallway*

• “Say sorry to Billie Eilish”

• “We should make army merch”

• “Some of us have bitch lips”

• “Time is moco loco”

• “Alfred Adler sounds like Adolf Hitler”

• “Albert Einstein is my favorite president” “YES”

• “It’s winter berries”

• “She just unfollowed your ass”

• “Do you ever get so mad you’re like rrrrr”

• “Bear Grills filtered that shit”

• “The US army is trying to recruit us with socks and bandannas”

• “This dude tastes bad”

• “I’m a sophisticated retard”

• “It’ll get your heart rate up” “I think asthma will make my heart rate go down”

• “She was like egh and the he was like EGH”

• *Door won’t open* “DISRESPECTFUL”

• “if she wasn’t my sister she would be my baby”

• “Will you let me make love to an Oreo”

• “Directions turn me on”

• “I’ll eat you” “Dude that’s gay”

• “you’ve been had a 69 in here”

• “I’m gonna be real with you. Hayden is a whole ass lesbian”

• “I’m sorry that picture is ugly. Sorry sis”

• “A whole jump suit with pikachu on it”

• “He’s been birthed”

• “Ru Paul’s drag race has been dragged”

• “Imma sip some chlorine”

• “why do you gotta throw up”

• “suicidal dog collar”

• “I’m pulling out Murphy’s head ass”

• “you’re gonna be single forever”

• “Do you trust me?” “No” “why” “you know why” “I told the truth after”

• “I didn’t mean to make her suicidal”

• “I did it in the most respectful way I possible could” “oh Jesus”

• “it’s not my fault she had that much of a connection”

• “she’s a sly bitch”

• *dresses in a Thomas the train hat and plays Thomas the train theme song on a piano*

• “I’m getting better at this” “what” “this”

• “It’s just my master plan to manipulate people’s emotions and have many successes in my future”

• “How do you do that” “I just empty my eyes”

• “You know what. Give me my birthday back”

• “Bitch bye. Not even cousins”

• “they go away. They don’t putt putt”

• “why” “so you don’t die in a police chase”

• “are you a virgin” “yes” *throws paper* “there’s my virginity for you”

• “I’m not stupid. I’m just not smart”

• *tries to hit someone with a decapitated mannequin head that has swim goggles on and fake blood coming out of its eyes*

• “you ignant”

• “I hope she chokes”

• “I had to sit at the edge of my chair, feet flat on the floor and hold my horn”

• “I don’t want to get my freaking hair done”

• “he hates my moms guts” “yeah no shit”

• “ok. Can you go cry over there”

• “Fuckin Jurassic world”

• “will you please beat up my mom”

• *drops phone purposefully* *immediately gets scared*

• “I want a new mom” “then break her”

• “did you just say what’s frog juice”

• *freshman walk by* “oh shit there’s a parade of them”

• “that five year old king is a queen”

• “Join the ranks”

• “Garrett’s carressing the computer” “cool”

• “You’re going into my dragons mouth”

• “Don’t snap my crab”

• “Crab breaking black belt”

• “are you milking the crab”

• “Cameron buttered my lemons”

• “Mixed with god”

• “What’s the juice”

• “I’m your bestie and you won’t even tell me the juice”

• “Let’s amazon.com this”

[countessofbiscuit]

Dollface

For @celebrate-the-clone-wars’ Writing Wednesday Prompt “Your Reputation Precedes You”  Rating: M Words: 2414 Inspired by The Adventures of Doll Rex.

(If there isn’t a 69′s in a universe with a 79′s, I’m calling bs) 

Having spent themselves silly, the boys in blue who’d brought the house down were long gone, and 69’s grew dull again. The exhibitionism continued, sure, the dancing was always pleasing in a kind of mindless way, and when things got really boring, the massage droid in the break room had a lekku setting that induced comas—it was almost enough to make a showgirl consider marriage.

But the circus this wasn’t. There used to be wardrobe brawls and stampeding reeks and everything. The only adrenaline high to be had here was shaking up assholes who tried to stiff her colleagues until their credits and their shame fell out. A civilian crime, and a dwindling one. The soldiers never did that. Ursula fleeced them for admittance—the bigot—then got mad when the staff stretched the poor sods’ pocket change by giving them free drinks because they were polite and very, very pretty. Oh they made noise. Lots of it. But they viciously policed their own and didn’t put their hands where they shouldn’t. And not just because they thought they might get charged.

They were … “shiny.” And two meters of broad, blood-red Twi might scare the shit out of anybody whose first experience with boobs was two hours ago and three levels up, when they got squished against someone on the dance floor or got flashed by a waitress.

Hence the boredom of a somewhat self-conscious girl who doesn’t like working a room for tips.

“Lala, that’s for you,” chirps Diohn when Laa’let returns from the freshers.

She stops fidgeting with her bra and rebuilding circuses in the sky and glances at the Zabrak bartender. Diohn points at the counter, then returns to digging through the mixer chiller.

A doll is sitting on the end of the bar. 

It’s propped up around a bright red cocktail, looking stupidly drunk, resting its chin on the rim of a glass about as wide as its comical face. Laa’let narrows her eyes at the arrangement. A clone. She recognizes the little flared skirt and shoulder decoration—and the golden top of one of those boys in blue. She scans the club for any that fit the description, but it’s just a throbbing sea of maroon sweats and crumpled greys, with a shrinking handful of businessmen pressed against the edges of the room; the only troopers in plates are the wrong color, and most of them are sitting along the rack, where they’ve figured out that two shoulder wings promise some seriously advanced recon—a much more exciting and personal show than anything happening at the bar.

“Who?” asks Laa’let.

“Didn’t see,” Diohn shrugs from inside the chiller, “they just left credits. And a note.”

Laa’let slides up towards the drink, ignoring the vulgar garnish—a cherry shoved in between a split taffy stem. The script is very regular, but the napkin is torn on the angles, like they couldn’t get the pressure right:

For the Ruby Rancor ♥

She grates the sharp tips of her teeth together. “You said you wouldn’t make it a drink.”

“I didn’t! I swear!” Diohn takes her own dulled molars to the cap of a bottle and spits it in the trash. “But you should stop fighting it. It’s definitely caught on.”

“Then what’s with this,” Laa’let says. It’s not just the garnish that’s offensive. Diohn’s clearly chosen her most bulbous glass, and she must have some campari, premixed to the perfect shade, chilling in a jug somewhere.

“That’s just me doing my fucking job. Now you should do yours.”

Diohn won’t share her tips forever, but Laa’let has her limits. Maybe too many of them for this career. “It’s not my job to talk to dolls.”

“Talking to cute faces with nothing but stuffing between their ears? I’d say that’s definitely in your contract. Roll out some carnival tricks.”

Laa’let’s lekku stiffen. “Circus. And I was a fucking acrobat.”

“Whatever. There’s still an audience—and maybe they’ll tip.”

It’s not an audience if you didn’t invite it, she refrains from saying, it’s an embarrassment. Too much like real life. With a frown, Laa’let swipes the drink, and the doll flops face down onto the chromium counter. Pathetic.

“Hand me that,” she says, snapping her fingers at an open bubblezap bottle.

Diohn giggles and swiggs the dregs. “Awww, someone’s had one too many!”

Laa’let maneuvers the doll into a seated position against the bottle, mindful of the oversized head. Its eyes are fixed off to the side, as if deliberately avoiding her boobs. “I need to get on his level. Is this a double?” she asks, stirring the drink once with the garnish.

One of Diohn’s liberal shots cascades over her peach fingers as she preps a line of Fuzzy Yodas—frothy, green, and strong enough to make you talk backwards. “You’ll have a nice time. I promise.”

Laa’let pulls out one of the lethris barstools and drops onto it. She hates sitting on these chairs. They’re sticky and undersized, like everything else here—even the ceiling is too low to accommodate her best tricks on stage. It’s maddening to be reduced to pantomime, the feeling of holding herself by halves, but Diohn’s right. She’s still a consummate performer, she’s still on the clock, and she’s still fucking broke.

“So,” Laa’let begins, taking a long sip that melts her sinuses and makes her damn nipples hard, “I’m new to this job and don’t have a lot of conversation up my sleeve, so do you want tragic backstory or tragic backstory?”

The little soldier makes big eyes at the turquoise Togruta on stage, but doesn’t indicate a preference.

“Tragic backstory it is. You might think it all started when my parents sold me to some charlatan in a travelling circus. Or when my growth spurt went on two years too long and I couldn’t get health insurance—did you know organs over a meter long are considered a pre-existing condition?”

She’s got her lekku draped over her shoulders and she shakes the tip of one in the little soldier’s face.

“Speciesist, I know. Free Porn Taa is laughably small in every department, so it’s not a priority for him. And the Togs aren’t represented in the Senate—not that healthcare is a priority there either.”

“Ugh, Lala,” groans Diohn, loudly dumping an armful of bottles into the bin as she passes by. “Politics? At my bar? No wonder he’s bored.”

Laa’let makes a rude gesture at Diohn’s back. “Anyway,” she says to the disinterested doll, “things really didn’t go downhill for me until the fucking Zillo Beast.”

The rack around Tosha’s stage erupts in applause when she finishes her routine. Another charming clone thing. It’d never occurred to them not to clap.

“Did I see it? You bet your plastic ass I did. Three of its gnarly legs came crashing through the roof during my act.”

Just for something to do, Laa’let takes the garnish from her drink and starts to trace a wet rendering of the monster that ruined her life on the counter.

“Squashed half the audience. I fell into the netting, along with all the buttresses, and was buried with broken ribs for three damn days. And this is where having no health insurance, no transferable skills, and no tolerance for animal abuse lands you,” she says, gesturing at the room, humid and a hazy red in the house lights, like an oversized womb.

Laa’let follows the little soldier’s gaze again. Tosha’s now working the rack for tolls. She’s got her knees on either side of one trooper’s ears, gripping him by his red shoulder wings as he gently tucks some funny money into her panties, ruffled and pink like cotton candy.

“Look, I know she’s topless and I’m not, but you could at least pretend to pay attention.”

A trooper in purple plates, very much paying attention, suddenly materalizes next to the doll. Laa’let takes in his double wings and his skirt—has she been performing for a fancy ARC?—and then moves onto his hair. It’s shaved into a landing strip across his skull and down his chin, and she can’t help wonder if the landscaping extends below the belt, too.

“There you are, Rex!” he declares, smiling broadly like he’d be very happy to enlighten her. “Who’s your pretty friend?” He gives a wave with one of the doll’s stubby arms.

This part always makes Laa’let nervous. What seemed like a good idea when she was eighteen and angry now made her job—wooing credits out of beings already much smaller than herself—very difficult.

“Doesn’t your friend know it’s rude not to stare?” she says, as softly as she can over the synth-glimmik pumping from the speakers, shielding her fangs with full lips—the only gift her mother gave her.

“My apologies, ma’am,” answers the trooper while ogling her tits for both of them. “He said he knew you, but he was probably talking out of his shebs.”

“Nah, he’s just shy. He doesn’t know how to ask,” comes a rumble in her cone. Another trooper pokes his head over her shoulder and starts taking mental soundings down her cleavage. 

Mindful of the bulk of her lek, she turns to glance at his plates—also purple, also winged. “Ask what?” 

The second one tilts his pretty face up. His hair curls in a way Laa’let recognizes as attractive to humans, and thick black stripes on his cheeks somehow brighten his green eyes, which sparkle at her with all the optimism of someone about two drinks in. “How much to blow bubbles?”

Laa’let takes a moment to parse this phrasing. The soldiers have a funny way of talking, but blowing bubbles is a far cry from their usual slang, crude and derived from military words she doesn’t understand. But eyes speak a pretty universal language, and theirs are glued to her red rack. If anyone’s going to introduce face fapping to the clone lexicon, it won’t be her.

But Green is far too cute to be allowed to bury those sweet cheeks so soon. The cheroot smoking on his breath is making her heart flutter, and she downs the rest of her drink.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Jock, ma’am. And that fastidious fucker’s Muse.”

She struts her long fingers atop the bar towards the doll and starts to toy suggestively with his little skirt. “Well, Jock, boys in blue get things on the house,” Laa’let teases with a smile, not bothering about the fangs. If these two are going to spook, better get the disappointment over with.

Muse sits his ass straight down for the long haul, and Jock hovers even closer.

“And boys in other colors?” he mumbles, brushing the back of a finger down her shoulder, evidently still full of hope. That he doesn’t go straight for her plushy lek says he’s got manners, and Laa’let feels her bum go warm on the barstool.

“What makes purple boys special?” she asks, genuinely curious. She’s not encountered any troopers in this soft shade before, and 69’s does a good trade in color—every dancer’s got their favorites, but it’s considered good luck to get crisp tips off a new one. They think it means you’re a trooper’s first; Laa’let just suspects a counterfeit operation somewhere.

“We’ve got walkers and big, fuck-off tanks with psycho warfare tech” and “we’re an elite, hypermobile, armored reconnaissance unit” are the simultaneous answers.

Muse makes a disapproving face at his comrade and straightens up a little when he clarifies. “We’re the 113th Armored Infantry Battalion, ma’am.”

“And the color?” she asks, fingering the lining of Jock’s skirt. Maybe she could get him down to nothing but this, then bribe it off him? The lethris on these things is pretty lush, given it’s army issue.

“Commander’s orders,” says Jock, beaming. “Matches our Jedi’s sabers.”

“Who’s your Jedi?” Laa’let prods, wondering how much two elite soldiers will leak over big tits.

Jock squints at Muse. “I think that’s classified?”

“Definitely classified.”

“He’s sealed tight but … I’m working on it,” Jock assures her with a wink, mischievous and loaded. She can’t tell if he means his Jedi, Muse, or both, but his playfulness is certainly working on her. Even if Diohn hasn’t just made herself conspicuous, inquiring with gestures about the status of flimsi in fingers.

Laa’let smiles, plucks the doll from the counter, and dumps him headfirst into her cleavage.

“Steady on, Rex,” gasps Muse, wide-eyed, grinning stupidly between the doll and slack-jawed Jock.

“For you two,” she begins, giving the little head a very illustrative shake, “this is ten…”

Using the nubbed arms, Laa’let pushes the golden top of her dress down, popping out one ivory nipple, then the other, conscious that she’s already given away about fifteen credits. “Handsies is twenty...”

Flipping the little doll over by the arms, she lets him come to rest where creamy fabric melts into the divot between her hips. Her senses are alight with human! now that Jock’s knees have failed him and his head’s propped up on her shoulder. Her right lek tingles against his balmy cheek. She returns Muse’s puppet wave. “And anything more is subject to performance review.”

“We…” Muse begins, opening and closing his mouth like a blurrg on spice, “we’ve only got twenty between us.”

Laa’let bites her lip and bounces the doll in her broad lap, like she isn’t preparing to inflate more than just their manual scores. She’s flipped her glass and her tits are out. Diohn better be getting her a fucking room.

“Tell you what. Twenty plus this little trooper and you might find I’m big enough to share.”

. . . . .

[CT-61-6898] Are you seated

     [CT-27-5555]      in briefing w some top squares      knock me down my ombre hombre

[CT-61-6898] …  RIP Cpt Rex

     [CT-27-5555]      !      what did those dumbfucks do

     [CT-27-5555]      its only been 12 hrs      we r still in the system ffs

     [CT-27-5555]      facts tho he was ltd edition      not even rex actual has one

[CT-61-6898] unnamed.holo

     [CT-27-5555]      !      u perv       what did u fucking do to him

[CT-61-6898] Shit That wasn’t for you Wrong holo

     [CT-27-5555]      too late      ...rip smokecheck

     [CT-27-5555]      commdr tano likes ur paintjob

[CT-61-6898] You fucking wish (...but I’ll pass on the compliment) 

     [CT-27-5555]      so he didn’t get creampied      good 2 know      what happened 

[CT-61-6898] rexnruby.holo

     [CT-27-5555]      !

[CT-61-6898] Is he scuba qualified 

     [CT-27-5555]      !

[CT-61-6898] Muse is sorry not sorry Rex was sacrificed for the mission He did give me a datachip instead

     [CT-27-5555]      WORTH IT

Smokecheck belongs to tiend. The 113th bros and Miss Laa’let are mine. 

[ech0isl0st]

How I was 1-2 days away from ending my own life…

(If you didn’t know I am @zodiacfreak321, I was locked out of my account and forgot my password-)

My Name, or Names, are Echo, Dakota, or Echoda. I am 15 Years old and I am just going into my first year of Highschool as a freshman. I live in North America that’s all you need to know about that stuff…

I am a Nebularomantic, Non-Binary, Greysexual, Lesbian. I am considered a Author for my own book series, The Hidden Signs. I don’t get paid because the books are not published yet… I have an amazing friend that helps me with the book series and is even included as a side character in another book I am writing: Avian Academy. The month was December, Not sure what the exact day it was, but I was being forced into the towns swim team… I was not happy as I did not enjoy it, but I grew near the end of the season, but before that, I was forced to quit my favorite sport, Cross Country… I was devastated… My mental and physical health quickly depleted, and soon, I had myself an eating disorder, I was losing too much weight…

To make it worse, We recently figured out, after a small incident where I had trouble breathing during a nightly swimming practice where I had trouble breathing, That I had mild iron deficiency. Great… My mom described my deficiency like this: “If it could be negative, you would be on the negative side of the scale.”

so I basically had little to NO iron inside of my already weak and getting weaker, body. Soon I had to take iron pills to help (twice every day, once a day, once a night) and that was barley helping, Then I went to go get an Iron infusion, but that wasn’t enough, and I had to get another. Forgot to mention that before I started swim I was indeed diagnosed with Social Anxiety Syndrome, and Depression, and to make it worse, Vitamin C Deficiency… Which luckily wasn’t as bad as my iron deficiency! Soon I was forced to eat healthier foods like chicken, iron rich meat in general, and we got A LOT, Of snacks that included iron in them. After swim season, I had a break from sports, except literally one week after swim ended, My new favorite sport started, Track and Field! I loved Discus, Shot-put, and short sprints! Ah yes, Gym as well, I hated gym with a fucking passion, a short kid who look like that one chihuahua,(and barked,LITERALLY BARKED, like a chihuahua too) He started to be, what can only be described using a couple of words… Five year old shit stain that everyone hates, but thinks their cool but they are literally the definition of a moronic asshole with the brain size smaller than a stegosaurus. He also looked like Timmy Turner from the Fairly Odd Parents, but on drugs… This short shit stain started to spread horrible rumors about me, that EVERYBODY, knew were false, like: “*insert dead name* has autism!” Or “*deadname* is retarded!” And other Jack shit rumors. He then threatened to shoot up the school, he wasn’t expelled but suspended for the rest of the school year, which is expelling somebody because we only had 3 weeks left of school-

He made my anger issues 10x worse. And before all of that… January 11th 2022, I wrote a note… a suicide note… Listing my wills and how much I loved my family, it was two pages long(the paper was fairly small), and I was bawling my fucking eyes out writing it. I stated that I wanted my good friend to carry on the series for me and become the successor to my book series’s.

[TW!!!] I planned to stab 18 holes in each of my legs using a kitchen knife when I came home the next day. On January 12-13th, I went to school, with the note, planning to put it inside of my best friend’s trumpet case at the end of the day. But I didn’t, I decided not to end my life. I would hate to see everyone I loved to break down, I would hate not being there with them. I wished to have a good life with them, and so I didn’t commit suicide; And to this day, every month on the 11th, 12th, and 13th, I would celebrate my decision to change and save my life forever, but I, Didn’t save my life… My family, and most importantly, my friends, saved my life, if they weren’t there for me, I would be dead… But I’m not, thanks to them… So I will now proudly say this with a smile on my face and my fist on my heart and my other hand behind my back…

Well, Hey…I Only have one life, and I fucking love it…❤️

[korirobinsonketo]

Season to Re-Evaluate & Plan

It’s December and for me this is the season of re-evaluating and planning. We all know that 2020 has literally been the worst year ever, however I know there are still some wins out there.  I use the month of December look back at the goals I set for the year and see what my successes and challenges was. I hate to say failures, because everything happens for a reason and you can still reach your goals. It just takes a little tweaking.

So, did you lose the weight? Did you save the money? Go on the fabulous trip? Make a mend with that friend from way back when? This is the time to deep dive and really sit back and think about how your year went. Always start with the positives and then build off of the negatives.

Below are a few tips to get you on your way to a wonderful 2021.

List Your Successes

Even if you feel like you didn’t meet any of your original goals, I am sure you can find successes. Did you get a promotion? Start a family? Buy that bag you always wanted? Finally end that toxic relationship? Successes don’t have to be material and they don’t have to be big. They have to be YOURS and you have to be happy with them. That’s all that matters.

List Your Challenges & Plan

What are some of the things you planned to do that fell through? These challenges are what you are going to build your next set of goals off of.

We cannot change the past; all we can do is move forward. So, write down who and where you want to be this time next year. Yes! I said write it down. There is power in manifesting your goals in writing. I would even challenge you to create a vision board or use Pinterest. If you wanna be a bit extra, add photos! Go all out.

Here are some categories to consider when planning for the next year:

Health/Weight: Weight Loss, Off of Mediation, More Physically Active, Better Eating, Healthier Relationship w/Food, Cooking at Home

Finances/ Wealth: Pay off Bills/Loans, Savings Goals, Spending Habits, Monthly Budget , Shopping Limits/No Spend Periods, Save for Special Goal, Limiting Eating Out

Mental Health: Mediating, Pray, Limiting Technology/Social Media, More Self-Care, Daily Affirmations, Remove Toxic People, Journal

Personal/Social: Call or Text a Friend, Schedule a Date Night or Solo Outing, Leave Work on Time, Create a To-Do List, Meet a Friend for Dinner, Volunteer, Annual Vacation

Goals

If you haven’t heard the phrase “Smart Goals,” you’ve been living under a rock. Use this acronym to create your annual goals.  

Specific: Write the exact goal down, use details if necessary.

Measurable: How will you know you are making progress? Will you reevaluate midway?

Attainable: Can you reasonably accomplish this goal?

Relevant: Will this goal help you reach long-term objectives?

Time-based: How long realistically will it take you to complete your goal?

Following these tips will get you prepared for an amazing year! I truly wish you the best on your journey to a better you. 

[purplesurveys]

277

Do you like the name Skylar? I like the name only for the Breaking Bad character because Skylar was a total badass. I would never consider it for my kid’s name, though. Are you allergic to any dogs? Thankfully no. My arms embrace all dogs...except chihuahuas and pugs. What's your favorite type of smoothie? I hate smoothies. Do you go out to eat often? I keep it to a limit of two times a week. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. I’ve heard similar stories from grade school so I never tried to do anything with plants back then.

Do you own a shirt with a reindeer on it? Definitely not. Have you ever used an Epi Pen? I have never heard of that on this side of the world. What is the meaning of your first name? Apparently it means bright or fame. Wish it could give me just that when I get older hahaha. Do you enjoy snow? I’ve never experienced snow, but I like to believe I would be a winter person. Do you think dragonflies are cool? No. Too many of them where I live, and I hate them. What's your favorite thing to draw? I don’t draw. Do you sketch in the margins of your notebooks? Not sketch but yeah I write on them. I’ll sometimes write lyrics or practice my script or just write down random names. Do you read the Bible regularly? We were required to do so in my Catholic education and it was the worst. I’ve never opened a Bible or acknowledged religion since the second I graduated high school. What's a game that you play often? Well my friends and I play Never Have I Ever a lot, either with alcohol or nah. Do you try to avoid stress? If so, how? I do but with anxiety permanently drilled in me it’s not easy at all to avoid. Is Halloween your favorite holiday? YES. Do you get complimented or insulted more? Complimented. Do you make bucket lists? I sometimes do when I’m bored but I never take them seriously. Have you crossed any times off your bucket list yet this year? Do you have allergies? Nope. What's your favorite store to shop at? Thrift shops for clothes HAHAHAHAHA. I buy from H&M too. Do you ever shop online?: Just for food and flowers. I haven’t bought clothes off the Internet because 1) I’m too stingy with my money and spending on clothes is too much for me, and 2) I’m always paranoid about the item not being a perfect fit. Do fairytales interest you at all? No. I hated them even when I was a kid learning how to read. What decade were you born in? '90′s. What was your favorite dress up day during Homecoming Week? We don’t have a Homecoming Week here. Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? My high school has a different traditional uniform for that. I don’t think people wear hats in UP graduations, either. Does it usually take you awhile to recover from illnesses? No. Literally takes me hours. Do you pray a lot? Not at all. Do you believe you have angels watching over you? No, ew. Have you ever had a doctor hug you and pray for you? That’s the creepiest thing and aren’t they prohibited from doing that? Have you ever had a doctor be rude to you? UGH YEAH. And it was a doctor who was supposed to check on my mental well-being on my first day in my future university while I was particularly feeling like shit, nonetheless. I hated that day. What's your favorite way to relax? Surveys are always lovely. Wordscapes helps too, and playing with my dog. Do you enjoy writing? Yes, especially if I had to write about something I enjoy. Do you ever multi-task? I’m in college. I’m practically taking up BS Multitasking. Do you try to avoid conflict? Yes. Do you wish you had someone to talk to? I already have a bunch of people to talk to. I’m very fortunate in that aspect. How are you making the most of your life? I have a fulfilling relationship? a fulfilling org? a fulfilling role in that org? good grades? a bunch of friends that I would drop anything for? I hope that counts. Are you happy with your life right now? I’m never satisfied about it, so. Do you dwell more on the negative or the positive? As depressed as I am, I super hate pessimism and try to look at what’s good.  Do you believe things are going to get better? I mean yeah I’m holding on to that a whole lot. That’s what I hope happens in like five years. Are you a world changer? I could only hope I’m doing enough to be calling myself one. Do you believe in the quote, "Be the change you wish to see in the world"? It’s true but I’m just so personally tired of hearing the same quote used over and over again lol. Do you love camping? I think I would as long as everything went smoothly, I have all the materials I need down to the last matchstick, and my friends are with me. Would you rather get married outside or inside? Inside, please. Wouldn’t want to sweat my makeup off, have the wind ruin my hair, or be splashed with beach water. Would you live in a castle if you could? No. Do you make the most of your life? I try to. Are you happy? I feel attacked by this question every single time it shows up. How many people do you have who care about you? A lot. Do you miss being young and having someone to care for you when you're sick? Whenever I got sick as a kid it was always apparently my fault, so can’t relate to this question. What's your favorite flavor of soup? Mushroom soup. Do you buy souvenirs? Only in foreign countries. Do you like fudge? Sure. Do you have new health problems now that you didn't as a kid? Yeah, my back problems say hi. How old are you? 19. How old do you look? 15 most days. Do you like the way you look? Sure, but I hate how thick and frizzy my hair can get. Do you eat healthy and exercise? Nope. What's a magazine that you enjoy reading? I haven’t read magazines in a long time. Do you read novels regularly? I don’t anymore.

[warofthenewage-rpg]

The proof’s finally up on the roleplay blacklist that you guys and Admin M are horrible people. I hope that’s finally the incentive you need to shut this toxic hellhole down. Merry Christmas, keep the change, you filthy animals.

You know what, “mystery anon?” Regardless of whether this is who we think it is or not, we have a final message for who we believe the sender might be. Because this has gone on far beyond long enough.

We frankly do not care any more. Nor do we have anything more to comment on the subject because whatever Admin M or any of our team has to say will be twisted and manipulated to fit your desired narrative as “the victim” on the situation. A situation, mind you, that happened well over two years ago today.

So let’s recount, anon, the last two years of your “abuse” from us.

We are the ones who received all the anon hate and harassing messages sent to our main from your party.

You are the one who posted a public attack to our admin team within all our group’s tags for all our players to see, which caused a few players to have panic attacks, by the way. You did not care for their well-being and wanted to involve as many people in this drama as possible so you were seen as a victim.

My admin team and I (Admin M) took all your personal and public attacking on tumblr and skype from you while we attempted to remain neutral and calm to try and resolve whatever issue still remained. And when we gave up for the sake of our own mental health because you were too unwilling to budge from your stubborn viewpoint of us “abusing you” and “stealing from you,” we are the villains.

We shared a google doc full of our unedited conversations during the whole debacle with you to prove to you that nothing had been tampered with or falsified, and you share it with someone else we were unfamiliar with, giving one of our own’s personal email address attached to this stranger on the internet who could have used that to hack her accounts.

You accuse us of stalking you, well, we have screenshots of your IP address hitting our main multiple times, specifically going to our inbox, and to our affiliates page to send other groups harassing and constant messages slandering us.

You are the one spreading lies about our admin team throughout the roleplay community, sharing only your convoluted side of the story, since that’s the only one you’re capable of seeing.

You are the one sharing only pieces of our conversations with rph blogs that you can twist and manipulate to “prove” that we are the bad guys “abusing you.”

You are the one who could not let go of some ridiculous and irrelevant drama that occurred over two years ago.

We are the ones who carried on with our lives after you left our group, and took all of your abuse (yes, it is considered abuse) directly and indirectly from you because of one misunderstanding that could have easily been resolved if you were capable of listening. You want to claim you were the one abused? It was the members on our team that were too afraid to sign onto the main and having panic attacks whenever a new message came through. It was our team blocking you wherever we could to try and spare ourselves from your stressful emotional and verbal attacks.

And, most importantly, it was our team that finally had enough of this bullying that we were considering (to clarify once again, this was not a threat) legitimate legal action against you for defamation and online harassment because we wanted it all to stop, and we had no other idea of how to end the abuse. Talking civilly with you went nowhere. Ignoring you and praying you’d get bored and move on didn’t work. Desperate times called for desperate measures for our own mental health.

But again, it doesn’t matter whatever we have to say to try and defend ourselves or explain our side because you have a remarkable gift of twisting our words and actions to suit your victim narrative and cry “abuse.”

So we just have a few final words to say on the matter now. Whatever you think we did to you back then, it doesn’t matter any more. It does not excuse this behavior of yours towards us that we have patiently endured and taken for this ridiculously long amount of time. It is an online tumblr roleplay. Whatever wrong you claim we did to you does not justify abusing our admin team or any of our players in this group, your vicious personal and public attacks, or spreading lies about us all over the roleplay community to destroy our reputation. None of this will affect your personal well-being or lifestyle. It will not get you a good job after college. It will not get you straight A’s. It will not give you eternal happiness. We highly suggest you find a hobby and move on from this trivial grudge of yours because we have better things to do with our time than to entertain your drama.

All we wanted was to create a fun and safe place for players to develop awesome characters and write in the world of WOTNA. This was our baby, and we loved it dearly. But now you’ve ruined it for us.

So congratulations, you finally got your wish. We were already debating this before this all got dragged back up again, but now you’ve made the decision that much easier. We’re quitting WOTNA and leaving tumblr roleplay because we can not take this bullshit. It’s just not worth it any more. 

Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year.

[thekintsukuroikid]

December 23 2017.

I never wanted to post these. I wasn’t going too.

It wasn’t until I saw the pictures of my family members did I realize I actually did capture something worth sharing, worth working on, worth feeling good about.

I’ve been on meds for awhile, been to therapy too. I’m starting to feel like I have the tools in my toolbox to start making some steps forward. I just don’t feel like I have the self belief to really go for it.

I’m tired, i’m frustrated and I’m finding it increasingly harder to rationalize this fight for myself. I remember being so excited when I moved away that finally I had the ability and the freedom to focus on myself, all of myself, especially my mental health. The commitment to do so has be fraught with setbacks and frustration.

The silver lining to which is the sheer immensity of kindness and love I’ve received from my friends. I question how I deserve it…obviously, and I am always wary of making sure our conversations aren't always about negative stuff. I don’t want to drag em down, or be a bummer.  I always believed the most insulting feeling in the world is being pitied. I’d rather be hated than pitied. Maybe i’m just being loved.

I always need external context, I never feel like I can start or finish or be without some sort of external form of permission, context, and sometimes motivation.

Whether is a girls number at the bar, or a degree on the wall I can never truly feel happy or connected to a moment, or an outcome unless I can work out how i’ve earned it. I almost never do.

What this means Is that I am often left floating, never really sure of myself in any given situation. Never really sure if what Im doing or experiencing is really building on a person or values as opposed to the consistent stringing together of just getting through the day.

Taking pictures is a hobby that feels safe to me, it feels worth pursuing. I think because deep down I have never felt like the main character of my own story, behind the lens I don’t have to be.

I named this blog after Kintsukuroi because I loved the meaning behind the art of fixing broken pottery with gold. I wanted to feel like I could do that for myself. Shine through my flaws. But even if I don’t, you can still fill the cracks with pyrite instead of gold and still hold water. Maybe that’s ok.

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See the key to enjoying family vacations is finding little moments of solitude, of respite where you slip out the back and escape for a few hours armed with a bluetooth speaker and a book that wasn’t assigned reading.  

 -I found a beach chair on the very edge of the resort property, a small wooden fence and a small one person security shack all that separated me from the public beach area filled with local kids splashing and yelling.  

- I played something slow and looked out into ocean and came up with as many lame water metaphors as one could presumably concoct under the circumstances of time and a mild hangover. - I present them here:

  See I preface all of this by saying writing all flowerying and poetic like this is like eating buffallo wings really fast, like it tastes good but is always accompanied with the heartburn of being this self indulgent. It just kinda feels douchey haha.  Ah fuck it lets go. Maybe self indulgent is the point?  When else can you be self indulgent right? 

How do I explain the fear of wondering if I wasted my best years simultaneously treading water, and never actually getting wet. How do I reconcile that? Am I gonna be in my late 30s wondering what its like to feel smart enough, or hot enough or good enough. That seems like it could suck, I mean it sucks now, what happens when it also feels like I’ve run out of time?

Speaking of water...

--

Sabrina Benaim said that Depression is turning lonely into busy.

and I am always busy.

She said that  

“Depression is sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness, I cannot baptise myself”

- I get that. You see it all around, potential everywhere, happiness so close it seems within reach and everyone around you thinks so too, yet you can't submerge yourself in it. You just drift along, walking on the water that is happiness and not being able to get yourself soaked in it. Always staying dry.

-  Maybe in my own metaphor if depression is the actual water?

- I wonder if Happiness is instead the sky you look up to when you’re treading water, concocting dreams of rescue helicoptors or philanthropic Pterodactyls swooping down to save you from your lack of cardio.

-I’ve tried to learn more about treading water by watching people who know how to swim really really well.

Google defines the Rapture of the Deep as an incapacitation that occurs when you dive too deep into the ocean, and no longer know what way is up. It can happen even if you learn how to swim really really well. One way or another some people just sink.

...and some people just take themselves way to seriously...I wonder if thats me?

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January 20th 2018 

AN ADENDUM 

I am  not afraid of the dark. 

Night time makes snack food taste better.

Depression is a slowdance lit ever so romantically by the light of the street light by my window. the glow of the 3:00am on the clock backlighting my stirrings, as a defiance against the convention of normal sleep patterns that’d  make even my teenage angst say dude chill…take a nap.

- I envy people. 

Not because I want some material thing they have, or some accomplishment. -

- I’m jealous of people who’s ears don’t constantly ring with self doubt. I always felt like I wanted to be a producer instead of just a consumer. But I’ve never had the self belief to stand by what I make...or just make. You know how people play hard to get? I feel like I play hard to want. Like all the time. Trying to be happy means sometimes trying to hard and that is annoying as shit. 

 I cannot for the life of me understand how people can just, be. 

I cannot understand how people can get through the day with more hope beyond just getting through the day. I’d give one eye just to have the other see through that lens. 

I cannot understand for the life of me how people know what to do, like ok you’re a therapist how did you know you wouldn’t be the worlds best advertising agent, or a poet or a spot welder? how do these other options not keep you up at night?

- How many people actually try Luge, like what if there is the worlds best Luger (sp?)  and he’s instead stuck in the accounting department fantasizing about  how to ask out the intern in accounts receivable? He could be fucking Luging bro.  

What I’m saying is I cannot understand how people know who to be friends with, or where to live, or who to marry? What if a more compatible partner is out there but she lives in Nicaragua...Fuck dude you gotta go to Nicaragua maybe! maybe the beauty is that out of 7 billion people, out of a million decisions, and happen stances, out of a million one in a millions, you found each other. Maybe thats worth something too? The grass is greener where you water it and all that but how do you know you should be planting grass and not palm trees....or Weed?

How do you know what parts of the tree to prune, what parts can you cut to make it grow and what parts will kill the tree?

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I do try my best, see thats the frustrating part I think. I've tried. I tried to be patient too, To not get ahead of myself. or try to feel like im entitled to feel better just because im trying too.

This has been the most open I've ever been with the people in my life bar my family. Not a single person i've told has reacted with anything other than a reaction of love and care.  No matter how I try I can't feel like I deserve it.  I’m so scared of opening up too much, and stifling how much and how long I talk about the bad days, I lie about how many good days im having because I don't want this to be a burden for them.  I don't want to get left behind because when im alone this thing starts getting the better of me. This is all a bad mix of feeling like I have the most to lose and feeling like I have the least amount of resources i’ve ever had to not lose them.

So much has changed and yet, it still feels like I have nothing to show for any of this. 

I read somewhere once that possession is the enemy of love. 

That you kill a flower by picking it. Instead of watering it where its rooted.  

-

Maybe more patience is required, it’d just be nice for a sign that somethings sprouted, that i’m doing the right things to bring forth an eventuality that this chapter of my life will be over.  I just wonder when perseverance ends and delusion begins?

--

I went into my brothers room to give put back a book. I found his sticky notes plastered all over his desk with like meditative buzz word, he's got books on history of architecture and james baldwin and eckhart tolle with the bookmarks well into them. He's starting his own creative company, hes filled out an application for the NYT. he's doing freelance work. hes already killing it with his company and in school. He is an awesome photographer,  he's a fashion whiz. he's a veritable genius. and I can't get out of bed.  I walked 3 steps out the door today, said nope, and went to bed. I went to bed at midnight last night and didn’t leave my room until 4pm.  Im not saying this in a jealous way or in away that harbours any negativity towards him. I love my brother, even if we are never going to be on the terms I hoped we’d be. To be honest I'm not really interested in the things he's into so him being good at those things don't take anything away from me. Its just insane to me how far behind I feel. I can't even basically function and he's taking on the world. If he were where I am, the world would be robbed of so much of the things he can do. I just feel like i'm robbing myself of what I could maybe do too. and It used to be a thing where If I saw somebody getting theirs, id be like aight I gotta go get mine too and id be motivated and it'd give me a boost. Because I believed in my better. I believed I had more to give.  now I just, I can't  envision any of that for myself. I don't even know what it looks like anymore.

I know that isn’t a fair comparison, I know he’s healthy and I’m not, I know comparison is the thief of joy.

It’s just, I started this whole getting healthy thing to start feeling more like myself. To start  to answer the questions about what I could do if depression  wasn’t at the forefront of every endeavour I chose to undertake, every thought that crossed my mind and every relationship I established. The fact is I feel no closer to answering that question. None. I feel farther than ever. I am the product of such wonderful privledge, to waste those gifts on a disease so self centred and indulgent seems ridiculous to me, yet here I am.

-

I have people walking with me now on this whimsical mental health adventure I’m on. Which is weird, because for the first time I’ve had to be cognizant of where my arms flail, or how much room I take up on the sidewalk. We walk together lock step, looking at that straight lined horizon, for something to eagerly burst its linearity and meet us more than half way.

While I appreciate the company it’s come with the added fear of what will happen if and when I have to stop, to stumble, to catch my breath, and for the sake of time, they keep walking. Until I can’t see them. Until the horizon is no longer something to move forward too. No north star to guide me home. 

See gratitude is anxiety. 

Always wondering how you’ve earned the luxury of a second to breathe, to use that moment to appreciate. 

 Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

[afunnyishliteraturenerd-blog]

Loneliness or happiness

  I love the feeling of working at night, I’m not quite sure why, I just do. Well perhaps you’d criticize me because my late hour habit may have a negative effect upon my health, ummm... yes it does, but do people in these days still sleep early? And if not work, then it’s the phone, so, under the circumstance where either way that I am going to consume my saving account of well-being, I may as well take advantage of it and do some real work.

  I love writing and reading, and if I have to choose one, I guess I will choose reading because reading can be very private, while the writing sometimes doesn’t meet this requirement. Okay... Let me explain, you know, reading is a thing where everything is going inside of your brain, you absorb the information, comprehend them, then digest them, then turn them into your own knowledge. HA! Satisfaction! Nobody needs to know what you have done or what thoughts you just generated. Writing, writing is evidence, people can see your writing. And letting people see how your mind functions is, ugghhh, at least to me, a little bit uncomforting. (This is probably the reason most of my writings are BS, I will try to use less bad words I promise) Exactly, when you have to turn into something as an assignment, you don’t really write real things. Come on! You Don’t Right!? Well I don’t care, I don’t pay a lot of attention to other people’s work except those people who I truly admire and respect which I have to say, that does make a very long list btw... I am not going to write them down or introduce them to you because I am still not sure why I like them or why they seem to be great to me so far, maybe one day I will figure this question out, or maybe never will. I don’t like to make decisions, especially to judge what is wrong or what is right. This is bad... I have learned my lessons. But I still have to face the fact that I just hate making final choices. Which color do I pick? Which wallpaper looks better? Which sweatshirt do I wear this morning? When I finally decided I want to wear this black H&M one after half an hour, I accidently had my eyes on a yellow jacket... (Shoot, that yellow jacket looks nice too...) 

  You may want to say, what the heck does this title have to do with whatever I am writing right now! Great Question!!! If you have asked yourself this question, give yourself a thumb up because, sh** man, I don’t have a clue!! The title sounds cool right? I guess that’s why hahahah! You see, making the choice is private, just like reading, nobody needs to know what you are thinking or how did you eventually come up with this idea, all the process, all the complications, none of them matters when you have come up with the final decision. And what’s so funny is that people have the habit of guessing things, they’d think that you came up with this idea is because of your particular personality, or your place where you grew up, or how did your parents treat you when you were a kid... Good ones! All of them are very well reasoned, but the truth is I flipped a coin, and the coin rolled over to the bottom of my coach and disappeared, thus I was angry, therefore I chose one randomly because I was running out of time. Human beings, wired right?

  Okay okay, if you are still reading this, I’d be surprised too, because you may have already lost, and what you are thinking is this guy is weird, I want to see what exactly he is saying. I appreciate it! Really, I love people being interested in me. ( Well.. not really) But still... it is a freaking blog! Back to the topic, you might be thinking, I have written a lot about reading and writing and making decisions and being private or public. And none of these seems to make any sense. But wait a moment! What if you change your perspective a little bit, you think them in a different way. Let us say that, being private is to yourself, being public is to everybody else ( why do I even explain this? It is common sense...) However, when you don’t have to share things with others, when you are doing something just for yourself, no consideration of what others might think of your behavior, that’s the moment where true happiness comes ( finally a word that does relate to the topic hahaha!) You see, why do most of us don’t like our job even though before they became our jobs, they were our interest, our passion. I think is because, if you love something very much, you’d want to do it for your profession, and when it becomes your occupation, you start hating it because you no longer are doing them for your own enjoyment, it is a task, an assignment. Do something for yourself! Be peculiar once a while! You’d know what is fun! Being a outsider or a loner really isn’t a bad thing! ( Yeah how many friends do you imagine a person who likes shakespeare and reading and writing and My heart will go on by Celine Dion would have? Okay keep your answer to yourself! There is no need for me to hear it!) But just because of this, I am not doing things for others, at least not all the time. I have time for myself, for thoughts I want to think about, for hobbies I want to do all by myself, or even just sitting there alone and drink a cup of coffee! A person cannot socialize might be a disadvantage, but if a man cannot bear the feeling of loneliness, then it is certainly a defect of his personality! (I am not going to elaborate this idea, you guys are human beings, use your imagination to infer the meaning! Go!)

  The next few lines might be a little bit confusing because I went downstairs ate two snickers because I am hungry. Anyway, bear with me, if anyone of you still is reading this! Then remember that loneliness expresses the pain of being alone, while solitude expresses the glory of being alone. How strong you are depends on how much you have inside of you! Mentally strong, then loneliness never gets to you! You maybe wondering why I am accelerating the pace of writing, let me just tell you simply, because I also made a ramen noodles and it is almost done! So I need to eat it before it becomes too soft! So thank you for reading this! I love you all, I guess... Have a great night and happy new year!!!

By Kun

2018.1.2   23:24 pm