#it's not even out yet and i can feel myself regressing i can't wait | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perplexingluciddreams · 4 months

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General ramble update:

ME/CFS crash is the most shittest shitty thing ever to exist. and makes sensory so bad with the sweating and sweating and the temperature dysregulation and the pain and the flushing hot hot face ears neck chest bad angry bad.

and then can't properly regulate sensory OR emotional because swing is make sore and more tired and more flush face ears neck chest.

and in a weird weather point where my usual hoodie makes too warm and sweaty (Worst Bad Sensory Ever), but arms is cold with only t-shirt no hoodie...

AND can't do physio walking because of crash. i thought it got better for a day or two, then did too much (mostly swing), now it is worse than the first part of the crash.

fucking hate ME/CFS it is the cruelest most horrible disease and i so so fucking wish i didn't have it

Also, AFOs still give problems (so can't even wear at this point). we try to contact orthotics people, but honestly i don't know if they can do much different at this point. i don't know if they could edit the ones i have to be wear-able, and if they can't then i really don't want to go through the process of getting another pair made, just for it to not work (and have to struggle with disappointment All Over Again).

i know i said before positive things about these AFOs, but that is my usual mess up of following scripts (copy/borrow words from others) before i even know my own feelings. i mix up anxiety and apprehension and not-sure-yet feelings with excited, because they are all "high" feelings. like buzzy and tense and energy. similar body feeling, maybe? then it is only a while later when i actually process my own body feelings, both for emotions (like anxious and disappointed) and physical sensations (like the pressure-pain from AFOs). it is only then i can say accurate things about the subject. this applies to any subject for me.

and Mum and Dad ordered a recliner chair for me, to put my Recliner Support System (from Special Tomato) on. when the chair comes they will set it all up, then at some point i will try it. but i will learn from my mistakes with speaking too soon on AFOs, and wait a while until i process, then update on that.

i think i am getting very very gradually slower. definitely having more semi-stuck moments where i can still move my body but can't transition task - or can't even know what i am supposed to do next. it is taking me longer and longer each toilet trip, i get stuck sitting on the toilet and between each step. it is affecting all my movements, but i try not to compare the walking part too much since there is other factors in that.

i want to write much more about regression and (highly suspected) catatonia stuff. i have a lot to say.

more mood stuff like getting easily "worked up" and aggression, and more getting close to meltdown easily, more hit self without control when i get only a tiny bit upset. but that is also part of ME/CFS crash for me, so i will not judge that until i have longer time to compare it.

also mentally everything is just hard. (which is also partial explanation for the quick aggression and mood shit). i "clock out" or "shut off" most of the time, because i simply don't have the time, ability, energy, to even think about everything that is happening/has happened to me. whether due to health shit, past trauma, regression/decline... it is all too much. brain loud. and loud = takes more energy. so, i can't.

this post seems overall quite negative, i think. but that is just my mental place recently. it is not always quite this bad internally for me. but when it is bad, i can't pull myself out of it, i don't have that ability, i can't regulate like that. only suppress and ignore and avoid, in hopes of avoiding meltdowns. my only hope is swing swing swing, music, watch things, and shut off clock out brain. don't let myself think or feel or remember the reality. just live in the safe parts of my brain's inside world.

hopefully i will have more positive feeling soon, and maybe happier things to share. although it is important for me to share the shit stuff too, it gets out of my brain a bit this way, relieve some pressure. i just wish i could get more out (of past things and memories, mostly. that is what makes the most noise in my head).

at least i have sensory galaxy light projector, Downton Abbey, sudoku, and safe music playlist (called "fills brain just right"). 💚

#words from my head #myalgic encephalomyelitis #chronic fatigue syndrome #ankle foot orthotics #autism #autistic #autistic catatonia #autism regression #swearing

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misseviehyde · 2 years

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REWYND

Rebecca, Courtney and Alice had been friends for years now. The three Mom's met every Tuesday for their book club and to have a bite of lunch. All in their early forties - they still looked good for their ages, even if there was an occasional touch of grey in their hair.

One day as they were sat in the cafe having lunch - Rebecca noticed the poster for the 'Slutty School-Disco club night', encouraging the local students to attend the nightclub in fancy dress as naughty school girls and school boys.

"Imagine being eighteen again and going to something like that?" she giggled.

Courtney had hesitated and smirked, "Well - why not? What if I told you I had an age reversing potion? I haven't dared try it yet - but I did a favour for a friend who is a witch and she gave it to me as a reward. One little sip and it rewinds you back to whatever age you want to be."

Rebecca laughed, "Come off it Courtney. Don't be dumb - that's not possible."

"Oh... it is," smirked Courtney. "Let's try it and go to that disco. We deserve some fun, our husbands and children will never know. We can dress up like naughty schoolgirls and be eighteen year old hotties again."

The three woman looked at each other and nodded. It was agreed.

*********

Nervously looking at each other, the three Mom's each held a glass containing the Rewynd potion. Drinking a long draft they put the glasses down and waited.

"Eughhhh tastes horrid," spat Alice.

"So ummm.. what were you girls like when you were eighteen?" asked Alice nervously.

"Me? Oh... well, I was kind of a bitch," said Courtney. "I thought I was better than other people. It took me years to realise and change my ways."

"Yeah me too," muttered Rebecca. "I was such a bully. I grew out of it eventually."

"Oh," said Alice suddenly unsure. "I got bullied a lot when I was younger. I was a bit overweight and unconfident. I was very studious. It wasn't until my late 20's that I really came into myself."

She looked at the others - but they weren't listening. Instead they were looking down at their bodies and touching themselves with glee.

"Hey look... my boobs are DEFINITELY perkier and my skin is getting younger. It's actually working!"

"That's weird," gasped Courtney as she tossed back her thickening hair and grew younger and younger. "I just forgot how to change a nappy... oh my God this stuff is making our minds rewind too."

The Mom's groaned and gasped in pleasure as they reversed, not just physically but mentally too. Long years of experience were stripped away as they forgot about their forties and thirties and the knowledge they had gained.

"Ooooh yeah - this feels good," giggled Courtney. "Yeahhhh regress my mind... I wanna feel young and bitchy again."

She stretched happily moaning as her skin tightened and her face became bitchier and meaner. Expensive nails shot from her fingers as her face became smoother but crueler looking with cold evil eyes and soft pouting lips.

"Fuck yes, I'd forgotten how I LOVED being a tight young little bitch."

Rebecca was purring to herself too, grabbing her boobs and squeezing with a nasty grin. "All the boys are gonna fucking love these. I can't wait to suck some fucking cock."

The giggling bitches were eighteen again now, regressed into skinny, bad bitches with curves in all the right places. Busts jiggled and asses wiggled as they tore off their boring Mommy clothes and began to dress in the slutty schoolgirl outfits they had chosen before drinking the rewynd.

But the two girls weren't alone. In the corner sobbing uncontrollably was a fat, spotty nervous wreck of a girl. Alice had regressed to her nerdy eighteen year old self and she squeaked in fear as the two bitches... now dressed as slutty schoolgirls backed her into a corner.

All friendship forgotten - the bullies laughed as they towered over their former friend.

"What a fucking loser... eugh she's so fucking ugly."

"Please... no... I..."

Courtney laughed as she pushed Alice hard into the wall and watched her slide down with a groan.

"Hey Courtney, is this fucking rewynd potion like the only way to turn back to our old selves?" called Rebecca from the table.

"Yeah... if we drink it we can turn back to our 40 year old selves."

"How about we pour it down the sink then? I don't EVER wanna go back."

Laughing the two bullies emptied the potion out whilst Alice shrieked in horror.

"Now let's hit the disco and find some hot boys to fuck. We can bully this loser more when we get back."

The two new bitchy besties clopped off. This time their lives were going to be VERY different and Alice was going to hate every minute of it.

#evie hyde #bitchification #f2f transformation #age-regression #rewynd potion

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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I Remember

A "Tales from the Iolite Hospital" story.

TW: Themes of Depression/Possible Implied Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of Trauma-Induced Age Regression, Hospital Setting/Doctors, Medical Procedures, Mentions of Death, Chronic/Rare Illness

I walk through the large halls of Iolite, frowning deeply. Yet another appointment with Dr. Cogsworth. In fact, it is to set up another endoscopy, as well as a biopsy to see if the dupilumab is making anything any better. I hate them. They say that it should only be sore for a day afterward, but my esophagus is so narrow that it takes about a week for the pain to subside even slightly. Too much air gets trapped...

I enter Dr. Cogsworth's office, expecting to hear the usual music form his chest and the creaking clicks of his joints. However, it is silent. Silent and dark. I fumble around for the light switch, not intending to leave until I get the appointment done. I end up bumping into what feels like a body in a chair, leaning over it and feeling the switch. I flick it on.

The body I bumped into was none other than Dr. Cogsworth, himself. His key to wind him up is no longer in his back, instead lying on the floor beside him. His face is lying on his arms, which are neatly folded on his desk, with a look of both distress and peace on his face. Yes, it is contradictory for both emotions to exist in an expression at once... Perhaps it is more of a disturbed peace? Either way, he is unmoving, like he is in a place between both sleep and death. One which is simply called "we gotta wind him up, again, Nurse Janet", by his peers.

I would do it myself, but this is a great opportunity to snoop around. I search every book and cranny of his large office. I go through the unlocked cabinets, the drawers full of medical instruments, and even look at the weird models of different sections of the digestive system. You know, the ones you can tear apart and put back together? The cool ones?

I make my way back over to him, searching his desk, when I take a closer look at him face. I realize that it looks a bit odd. His face seems to be stained with... tears? His tears were always a bit more noticeable, due to the slightly blue-green tint in them. So, I guess that when they dry on his face, they leave little stains? What else would be covering his face in two thin, blue tracks from his eyes to his chin? Then there is the question of what he is covering with his arms.

As much as I hate him, and want to push him violently over to look at the little secret he is hiding, and watch him tumble to the floor... it would cause a commotion, most likely signalling a nurse to check in on him and I. Don't judge me for my want. He has been the bane of my existence. A constant reminder of how sick I am. Anyways...

So, I gently pick his arms up and move them over, then lift his head and pull the paper out from underneath it. For being a.. wind-up man? Doll? For being whatever he is, his hair feels surprisingly real and soft. Whoever made him must've done so with care. How sad it is that he turned out so emotionless and cruel. At least, that is the vibes I get from him. A doctor is supposed to be caring and gentle, with a gentle and warm aura. Not this cold, barren, and overly strict and harsh one that Dr. Cogsworth has.

I look at the paper, realizing that it must be a note of some sort. It is stained with drops of light blue-green, possibly even a turquoise color. The good thing is, none of it has ruined or covered the black pen he used to write it! I can still get the juicy tea from this! I can't wait to tell everyone his little secret. That's what he'll get for all that he has done.

Holding it up to my chest, so that I can read it with the various eyes upon my gown, I start at the beginning.

"To Whoever Finds This Note,

First of all... Please, do not wind me back up. I need a few days to contemplate some things. Preferably, an eternity to do so. I may never truly die, nor do I necessarily feel like I want to... At least, I do not believe I want to... but I must think over my recent actions, as well as the feelings in my chest."

Well... that is the FIRST red flag. That guy basically needs to be wound up to live and is telling people not to? I look over to him, seeing that disturbed, peaceful look on his face. The guy looks like he is in his sixties or something, but I know for a fact that he is younger than me. Doesn't make a difference in his actual mental age, since he was programmed to have the maturity, personality, and medical knowledge of a sixty year old doctor, but he does still hold the naivety of someone younger than me when it comes to the subject of things outside of medicine. Especially emotions, which I find absolutely hilarious, considering how he never shows any signs of having his own. I was sixteen when I came in, meanwhile, he was created five years before I arrived. Add eleven years... that makes him... Oh that makes it so he is sixteen currently. How ironic...

I look back at the note, trying to shake the thought that someone who has only had sixteen years of life experience, even if he was programmed to have sixty in specific areas, is thinking this way. If I had to guess, never being wound up is the equivalent of an eternal slumber. Willingly going through with never being wound up must be like... Resigning yourself to that fate.

"I have a few words I wish to share. I hope that whoever finds this is not a patient of mine, but if it is so, I will not have any reasons to care about it. If I never wake up, I will never know of it. My fellow healthcare providers, however, have been concerned about my recent, outspoken nature regarding the treatment of the patients on the C-Floor, especially my own, in the C-GastEnt ward. They say that I am losing the point. To follow the protocol. That it has been proven to work. I think that they have lost the point, but I have no choice but to follow through with their orders. I wish to address this in this note."

Ah, yes... the C-GastEnt ward. The ward on C-Floor specifically for patients with chronic gastrointestinal and digestive system conditions. The entirety of the C-Floor is for chronic illness patients, but that ward is our own special little hell. Why would Dr. Cogsworth care so much? He doesn't have to live there. No one else cares, either, besides the patients trapped on the C-Floor.

"I have been having thoughts regarding the purpose of the doctor in a patient's care. When I was first created, I was told that, as a doctor, it is my job to make patients feel better. It is my job to make it so that they are happy. Happiness is shown by a smile, if I am correct. I realized a few months back... none of my patients in the C-GastEnt ward have ever smiled at me during their time in my care. None of the others on the C-Floor have, either. If a person shows happiness through a smile, and no one is smiling, doesn't that mean that we are failing? We are failing at our one job in life. I am failing at my purpose in life."

I pause, again, looking back over to him. There is still so much more in his note, which I still plan to read... But this is growing a bit more concerning. "I hate Dr. Cogsworth because he is an emotionless robot with no idea as to how I feel and what it is like to be me" is what I have always said when others ask why I hate him so much. Now, however, as I read this... Yes, these aren't emotions. These are thoughts. The problem is, these are thoughts I know all too well. Not only that, but these are thoughts caused by concerns over his patients, including me. Thoughts caused by concerns I never even knew he was able to have towards people.

"In fact, I have seen many of them smile before. My peers complain about how Aluminum is a main point of obsession when it comes to these thoughts of mine. It isn't just him, but I talk about him often because, like I apparently am, he is outspoken in his dismay. I know his feelings the best, because he tells me about them the most out of all my patients. He is in pain, lots of pain, and he is letting me know it. He calls me a monster, when I am just following protocol. He says I am emotionless, to which I understand, but know I am not. I shall use him as an example in this note, both to accurately explain my concerns, and to spite you all who dare say those concerns are not important."

I can't help but chuckle at the last line. Spite. I love it. The old guy has a lot of courage to spite his peers like that. I then think over the rest of the paragraph, before realizing what he is saying. I am the most outspoken patient? I thought I was being quiet compared to the rest. Perhaps we all are just more open to each other than the doctors and nurses here. It would make sense. The usual response is "I am not a therapist. I can't help that you feel bad" or "let me get you more medicine".

"I remember, eleven years ago, when he first entered my office. We hadn't done the endoscopy, yet. I know how his kind, the Eyeless, work. They see through the eyes on their clothing, have no eyes on their face, and tend to be more modest and show large amounts of hospitality. A large part of their culture is the desire to grow up quickly. They want to act like adults, even when they are not. They try to be mature, independent, and be looked upon with high regards. Clothes that show too much skin, even just short sleeved shirts, shorts, or even skirts are not seen as proper."

Sounds about right. Dad was always fighting with mom, who wasn't an Eyeless, about how she dressed and how she let me dress. The parts about wanting to grow up too soon are right, as well. Kids as young as ten will be left alone, cooking dinner and such, not because their parents want to leave them, but because they want to seem more mature than they are.

"Aluminum walked into my office with his father. He was only sixteen and was complaining of pain while swallowing. However, when he saw me, he smiled. He smiled. He shook my hand, smiling and laughing as he said "for a man made of cogs and gears, you sure look nice! Your hand is also warmer than I expected, too! That's so cool!" His father immediately slapped his hand, saying something about being rude for saying that. It was the nicest thing I had heard all day, actually. In fact, I had just been chastised by another patient for not having any way to help her with her acid reflux. I had given her a set of instructions that she refused to follow. I couldn't do anything if she wouldn't help herself. That is besides the point. The point is, he was happy. He was smiling. Not only that, but his hand was warm. It was nice, warm, and, for a man with problems eating, not too frail or thin."

Raising an eyebrow, I feel confused. I get the first part. Yeah, I was happy before. I also remember saying those exact words to him. What do my hands have to do with anything? Why is he focusing on them? Seems kinda creepy.

"Next thing I know, after getting a barium swallow to check for abnormalities in the esophagus, such as strictures or holes, the imaging department sent in the pictures, alongside a note. The x-rays showed an amazingly horrible sight. The esophagus was proportional, with no sudden dips or bloating. However, the entirety of it was only around a half to a third the width it should be. The note said "Never seen this in my fourth years of working in imaging. Patient smiles when he saw the pictures, thinking it was normal due to no easily visible strictures and no knowledge on the width it should appear as on the imaging screen. When informed, patient began to laugh from a nervous breakdown, trying to play it off by saying "I am special! I am a freak of nature!" in a playful, shaking voice. Please tell me you know what this is, Dr. Cogsworth. I have no clue.""

I look up from the paper, shocked that he would remember the day so well, much less be informed of my reaction to the news. It continues on, too. I am too deep at this point. I must see this note through to the finish. It is multiple pages, at this point.

"When he came back for our next appointment, I told him I would do an endoscopy. His mother, bless her soul for being so kind, comforted him through my explanation of the procedure. She will be missed by many. She even waited the entire two hours as it was done, helped comfort him when he was scared of changing into the patient gown, telling him that he should trust me. There weren't any eyes on it, so he would be blind. He trusted me in the end, though, changing into the gown and letting me guide him to the surgery room. It usually only takes thirty or so minutes to do an upper endoscopy. For Aluminum, however, his esophagus was too small for our smallest endoscopes, including the pediatric ones, to fit into the opening of the esophagus. I needed to widen the entirety of his tract to perform the procedure. I took the biopsy, after seeing type two inflammation present in his esophagus, as well as some slight ringing in one area of it. I found that a high number of eosinophils were present, thus, diagnosing him with eosinophilic esophagitis. When he woke up from anesthesia, the first thing he did was regurgitate blood from his stomach, before trying to get out of bed, screaming in horror about the blood, only for me to have to catch him before he dropped to the ground or tipped over the bed pan used to catch the blood."

I shudder, remembering that moment. It was awful. My mother was there by my side during those days. She passed away sometime later, but I was already admitted as a long-term patient, so I wasn't allowed to visit her or go to her funeral.

"I have the young man his diagnosis, explaining that it was chronic, what I had to do, and how his case is very severe. I also explained how it was a new diagnosis, so there isn't much known about it. In those exact moments, I saw all light leave his face. Two little wings appeared above his head. I knew that it was a sign that the poor man was traumatized. Wings are a telltale sign that an Eyeless has faced a life-changing trauma, good or bad. The look on his face read that it was not only bad, but like I had dragged him through the raging fires of hell, through mountains of needles, and thrown him into a pit of lava. He trusted me. He trusted me and I traumatized him immediately afterward. I felt the worst pain in my chest, piercing right where my heart would be. It pierced right through my music box."

Only one more section to read. One more section, then I will be able to go. I can't just leave myself in the dark. I must know.

"There were no more warm flutters, like when he shook my hand upon our first meeting. Just... an agonizing pain. For these past eleven years, time seems to have begun to move slower for me. I want it to end. I want my world to turn, again. My dreams have been of him leaving this hospital, the building crumbling around me as I watch him go. I get the warm fluttering feeling, smiling in my dreams. I smile. I know I feel happy in those dreams. I feel happy because he always turns back to smile at me. Whenever I get the same feeling in reality, I do not know if it is happiness, sadness, nostalgia, or whatever. But I know those dreams of his escape and my own destruction within Iolite are happy. I know, in truth, that it will never happen. The Iolite Hospital will never fall. It will keep turning around me, watching the patients, workers, and myself with its watchful eyes. Tears have been falling from my eyes more recently, to which I cannot comprehend why, except for the commonality of each incident being the pain in my chest rising to an unbearable level. Is it guilt? Is it sadness? Is it a feeling of unbearable apathy? I fear the worst.

The only times I see him smile are when he regresses in age, acting like a child. He does this to go back to a time where he wasn't aware of his illness, as such, having no care in the world. Back to a time where he never met me. In those moments, the second he spots me, he runs away in fear. He avoids me like I am an angel of death.

The most unbearable part is Aluminum's hands, nowadays. When he shakes my hands, which is a rare occasion, nowadays, they are cold. They are cold, frail, skinny... He is losing weight. His fingers sometimes even look a bit blue, not due to cyanosis, but due to him being so pale and skinny that his veins are visible through the skin. His fingers and body do not have enough fat to hold warmth, making them cold. He even says that my own hands feel as cold as stone.

The Iolite Hospital has made us both cold."

I finish reading in, placing it back down on the desk. I am speechless. I always thought he never cared. I look back to him, seeing that he is still as stone, of course. I hesitate, before picking up his key, winding him back up. He has a lot to explain. I have a lot to explain. I have a lot to apologize for.

#Tales from the Iolite Hospital #passion project #my stories #My ocs #my ocs are my babies

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casspurrjoybell-31 · 6 months

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The Consort's Will - Chapter 14 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

My mind slips in and out of consciousness.

I'm not sure how much time passes.

Enough for me to start growing the semblance of a beard, I guess.

My limbs tense as I shift positions in the cold chair holding my weight.

I suddenly miss Kelly's dilapidated couch.

Even though it was barely usable, it still managed to mold to the form of whoever sat on it the longest.

Kelly flinches in his sleep.

His arms have been freed of the metal bars but there are bruises left behind as a reminder of where they once were.

His eyelids flutter and I wonder if he's having a dream.

Or maybe a nightmare.

It wouldn't surprise me if it was the latter.

I want to reach forward and readjust his blankets or maybe even hold his hand while he sleeps, just so he knows he's not alone.

I don't, though.

Instead I lean my elbows on my knees and keep my distance from my best friend.

When he first woke, he was panicked but Helena kept on assuring me 'this was to be expected.'

I'm not sure how many days have passed since then but he's not getting better.

If anything, his health is regressing, both mentally and physically.

Maybe I should have waited to explain everything and answer all his questions.

Helena warned me to take it slow, I didn't.

I just wanted to get Kelly back to his normal self.

Now I'm coming to the bitter realization that the version of Kelly I once knew is gone.

Yes, he's human again but the pieces and memories he had as a vampire have stayed with him as well.

It's changed him.

My stomach rumbles at my silent protest against food.

I haven't eaten anything since the moment I stepped foot into this medical unit.

I'm not sure how long it's been but I haven't started hallucinating.

At least, I don't think I have.

That's a good sign.

"Human."

Something stirs to life within at the sound of his voice.

I don't turn around but I feel Brayden as he moves beside my chair.

It's the first time I've heard his voice or been in his presence since he stormed out of the medical unit upon seeing Kelly's condition.

Maybe I should've ran after him to try and explain but I couldn't leave Kelly's side.

And selfishly, I didn't want to see even a hint of betrayal in Brayden's gaze after hearing my explanation.

At this point, I just can't handle it.

Does that make me a coward?

A shaky breath escapes my lips when Brayden's cool hand touches my shoulder to gain my attention.

It's a light, hesitant touch but my skin aches for more.

With what little courage I have within me forces me to meet his gaze.

His eyes have become a brilliant, searing red.

They're no longer appeased by satiety and my heart sinks realizing I've also forced Brayden to go days without eating as well.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"I just couldn't leave him."

Brayden cocks his head to the side.

The florescent lights provide an iridescent halo around his head, yet his sharp features cast shadows as he stares down at me.

A fallen angel.

How can one man be so beautiful?

"You need to eat," Brayden whispers.

"I'll sit with him while you're away."

It's not a question or a command but rather a request that's said with enough conviction that I don't argue.

I stand from my chair and wince.

Everything aches.

Nothing sounds better than throwing myself into Brayden's arms and begging him to help me figure all of this out.

Instead I move past him and nod in agreement.

"I'll grab a quick bite and shower. Shouldn't take me too long."

Brayden's eyes linger and I try not to fidget having his attention.

My mind is probably playing tricks on me,but it almost appears as if he's concerned about me.

He crosses his arms over his sculpted chest.

I swallow back a stale mouthful of saliva.

How I should broach the subject of Brayden's lack of sustenance?

Should I ask him to step out and pick a vein?

I'm normally not this uncomfortable but my brain is fuzzy after a lack of sleep and food.

My already-limited ability to gauge his thoughts are now reaching a nonexistent level.

"If you want," I stammer.

"I'll ask Reyo to hook me up to a blood bag. I'll bring it back to you when I return."

I want him to turn it down and ask for a live feeding instead.

Pathetic?

Maybe.

But everything that's happened the past few days, heck, the past few months, has taken a toll on me.

Truthfully, I ache for him.

Brayden narrows his eyes.

"You'd trust him to do that?"

There's accusation in his tone and his gaze flickers over to Kelly as a means of driving his point home.

My cheeks heat.

He knows.

Without us talking, somehow over the past few days Bogdan has found out that it was my blood that changed Kelly back into a human.

I recoil another step away from him and run a hand through my shaggy hair.

My finger catches on an entanglement of knots, and pain prickles over my scalp.

"No," I whisper.

"I don't."

Bogdan's frown softens.

He stares at me for another beat of silence before nodding towards the door.

"Go eat. I'll be here when you get back."

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kaitlynnlauryenn · 7 months

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My heart is sinking right now. I am so angry and so triggered.

I can feel the electrifying heat in my bones.

I can't focus on anything because I am not sure how to calm down.

I am just seething in pain.

I relate all these feelings back to my relationship.

Hearing the same conversation that my bf & I have between my bf & his dad has absolutely sent me down a spiral.

It's emotionally volatile. He doesn't feel heard because things with his family don't change.

He tells me I don't change.

I am emotionally wrecked 80% of the time & being told that I am emotionally immature feels sooo degrading. Being told that I need to do something different & the impact of my behaviors are negatively impacting my relationship fucking hurts.

Going through HUGELY emotionally intense conversations & then to try & wrap it up w/ love & connection feels wrong when every other conversation is just as intense.

All these feelings that are coming up because I am re-experiencing pain from my childhood.

I then ask myself is it from childhood? Or am I just not able to handle that much emotional distress all the time?

Am I grasping at straws to put my bf at fault for things unrelated to him?

He wasn't a narcissist, but I am so emotional fucked that I can't stop telling myself that it's ok because I don't see any other options.

I always come back to this. I feel I can't withstand the weight of the relationship I keep opting into because I feel more & more drained.

Or is it because I am mentally ill & have cycles of doubt floating in my head.

This anger feels out of control. I say yes & I mean no. I can't feel anything but pain all over & I can't concentrate because something doesn't "add up"

It makes me reel in anger!!! Did I blow up my life for someone who drains me constantly?

We both feel emotionally drained but I can't calm down enough to be able to work without causing the most ungodly stomach ache?

It's inevitable to trigger one another, but his triggered state is mean, petty, & vindictive?

Am I just hurting myself?

I'm defensive & withholding because my honesty is misguided by anxiety. I always agree that I am in the wrong because I wait until I am at my wits end to communicate that his behavior is hurtful. Yet, I am causing his reaction by being defensive & withholding.

Did I just become attached to him because in the same way my mom would try & be my therapist & now he does it & not her?

Am I fighting every urge in my body because I am projecting traumatic pain from my childhood? Or is it because my relationship is inherently traumatic?

I don't know. Writing this out makes it seem clear that I am hurting & breaking due to my commitment.

Talking & addressing these deep feelings with him makes my pain rise until it's unbearable. The emotional relief comes when I hear his apologies because then I know what I am feeling is real. But I lose it the second I see that my walls are fortified with 80 ton magnets.

They won't come down because over & over again I feel that what is being asked of me too much.

I've felt like this for years & I fight taking the glass out of my hands.

He asks me over & over if I want this. I clearly don't but then where do I have to go?

It's all sooo muddy in my mind.

No matter what I tell him it means that he is too abrasive & I don't have the ability to give him what he needs. That being kindness & gentle care.

I never feel inspired to give him that. Only occasionally when I can recognize how scared he is. When his fear isn't directed at me & I don't feel obliterated by the anger & hurt he sees.

We talked tonight because I felt this way. I didn't pour my heart out like this because I have been making such an effort to be cognizant of his mental space.

When I do communicate these things to him, he explains all the projections I spin onto him.

Love isn't easy & neither is being vulnerable. I teach him so much he tells me.

I feel like I regress so often that I can't even function.

A feeling I can't seem to let go of.

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ninefoldsaturn · 1 year

Text

The Detriment of Over-Thinking

I fear you fading away,

slipping through my fingers,

my heart aches, and I feel sick to my stomach.

If I had only one lifetime left,

I would spend it loving you,

I'd barter with the universe for a special exception,

I'd trade my dreams for our memories,

every night blessed to relive those moments.

I gave you all of me,

and I'd do it all again,

I said I'll keep loving you no matter the situation,

I'll keep trying and give you all my patience,

You hold a special place in this heart that's withered and wasted.

The duality of finding warmth and home,

yet feeling alone and left out in the cold.

My mind can take it as alienation when I see you're no longer engaged in conversation.

I show you how much I care,

you tell me how you feel,

But I take it like it's my fault if you quit trying.

I love you without conditions,

I support all your visions,

I'm your number one fan,

but maybe it got to your head, and now it's all I am.

You loved my light, but it's draining,

I'm left feeling empty waiting for your validation,

Hoping for an epiphany and recognition,

I never want to hurt you, I spend so much time working on myself to be a better person,

I fear regressing to a darker version,

That's the thing about freedom of will,

and respecting decisions,

Even though it stings,

I can't make you love me the way I envision,

It's unfair to hold expectations,

and I can't make you see what I see,

if you did, would you desert me?

I know who you are, and I know who you were,

I remember the way we connected,

I reminisce, gazing into your eyes,

and it brings me the comfort I need.

I try to balance my energy and let myself heal,

it always ends with so many mixed emotions.

you're everything to me.

I opened up in ways I've never done,

and I'm scared letting you know that part of me,

My mind portrays this as being played,

My mind makes me think this is like a game,

One that's left on the shelf,

Collecting dust until you want to feel entertained,

When I'm ready to run, I think you know,

because you tell me everything I need to hear,

I feel naive for needing constant reassurance,

Do you know how much power your words hold?

When you talk about our future,

I see visions of me and you,

A promise that I hold too tightly,

I'll never truly understand why I sabotages the things I cherish,

Being so vulnerable is terrifying to me,

I'm ashamed for being such a mess,

I hope that you can understand,

I'm not everything you thought I would be.

art by Miles Johnston

#poetry #overthinking #anxious attachment #healing #mental health #patreon writer #Spotify

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sleepyystarfish-agere-blog · 3 years

Text

~ The Secret ~

(Agere Short Story)

It happens so suddenly, you barely have time to think. Your bag, and its contents, spilled all over the floor. Your rival, as usual, finding even more ways to be a nuisance to you day by day.

You wouldn't care.

You wouldn't care, usually, and you don't, not until you see exactly what spilled out of your bag.

A pacifier (an adult pacifier) which you rush to pick up, hoping that against all odds, they hadn't seen it.

You think you got lucky because for a while, they don't say anything. Thank God. They must have missed it, you think.

But then one day, during an especially heated argument, the dreaded words slip out of their mouth.

"Tough words for someone who still uses a pacifier."

You stop dead in your tracks. The smirk quickly drops from their face as they see how absolutely livid you look and they realise that they probably went a little too far.

Completely overwhelmed, you decide your only option is to leave as quickly as possible.

"Wait, I'm-"

You don't let them finish. You rush to the nearest bathroom and try your best not to have a complete meltdown.

"Shit, shit, shit." Unknown to you, they're outside the door, cursing themselves for being so stupid. Maybe the two of you don't get along but this is clearly a sensitive subject for you and they'd never want to genuinely hurt you. Your constant fighting is supposed to be fun! It's jokey. Maybe slightly heated sometimes but nothing you can't get past. Now, though, they're afraid they've completely fucked that up.

After a few minutes, they gently knock on the door.

"(Name)? I'm, I'm sorry." They try. "Um, can I...come in?"

You don't say anything. You want to disappear. You curl up against yourself even harder.

They bite their lip, considering their options right now. They could leave, but then they would be worrying about you the rest of the day and would never stop feeling guilty if something happened to you.

They could stay by the door, but how long would that take? And they would still be worried, not knowing what's happening inside.

They decide they have to check on you, even if you'll hate them for it.

"Hey, I'm, um, coming in, okay?" They call, slowly opening the bathroom door.

You're sat against the wall, near the sink, with your knees tucked in. Your tear-stained face makes their chest ache with guilt.

"Hey..." They approach you cautiously, awkwardly. You've never seen each other like this. They're not sure how to talk to you when it's not an argument. "I'm...sorry. I should have never said that. It was awful and dumb."

They've sat down beside you now. They keep talking, apologising. "I get it if you don't want to talk to me again. I know I, uh, crossed a boundary and stuff. I really am-"

"I'm pathetic." You suddenly say. It's the first thing you've said since running to the bathroom.

"...what?" They're taken aback and a little confused. You should be angry at them right now. You should be shouting and cursing and saying I'll never forgive you and get out but instead you're saying-

"I'm dumb! And so stupid and useless and and-" you're crying now and heaving slightly.

They rush to your side and try to find the right words to say.

"W-what?" They laugh slightly - not in a mocking way. Your words have just caught them off guard.

You finally lift your head from where it was resting, tucked against your knees. You sniff and look at them with tear-filled eyes.

"I am." You say.

"You're not."

"Yes I am!"

They laugh again, more freely now but you maintain your frown and pouted lips.

Before you can speak again, they start to recount all the times you did something good, something right. All the times you knew something before they did and when you beat them again and again. Found loopholes. Devised the perfect strategy. Won against all odds.

"You did all that, didn't you?" They say at last.

"I guess."

"I guess." They mock playfully in that high-pitched tone that's supposed to sound like you, and you can't help but smile. "If you didn't, I might have to check myself into a mental hospital, because I remember it all quite clearly."

"Don't worry. You're right. I...I did do that." You're surprised by how much better you feel already. You're surprised that they have the capability to make you feel anything other than anger. A moment of comfortable silence passes between the two of you before they finally speak again.

"You know, you know it's fine, right?"

"What's fine?"

"Whatever...whatever this is about. I don't care. If it helps you, that's all that matters."

They're referring to your age regression, if they even know what that is. You're glad that they seem to be supportive either way.

"And I won't bring it up ever again, if you don't want me to."

"Thanks." One word isn't nearly enough to express your gratitude but there's not much else you can say or do. You look away, still embarassed by the fact that they know. This secret has felt so big and so dark for years but maybe...maybe it's not such a big deal. They don't seem to think so, anyways. And the relief of someone knowing yet staying makes your chest feel lighter than it ever has been.

They just nod. So simple and casual. Again, you realise they know, they know. But they're still here. And they couldn't care less. It doesn't change a thing.

"I'll get your stuff. You were going to walk home, right?"

"Mhm."

"I'll drive you."

"I-"

"I will. No objections."

They hold a hand out to you to help you stand and encourage you to wash your face in the sink. You let them grab your things. You let them lead you to the car and you let them drive you home, feeling light and small and safe all the way.

#agere #cglre #agreregression #sfw #short story #sfw agere #writing

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 3 years

Note

Here The Remembrance anon Again!

Chapter 19

• I'm with Luca in The stargazing Part, Like sure, I Like look at The Stars but I really don't see it so cool, The same happens with rain everyone I know Thinks It's really “Aesthetic” and all but I'm DYING because The humidity makes The summer here even worse and I Fear Thunders

• As Someone who is Ace bi greyro and that sees Charlie in the aroace spectrum as well, I'm Happy to see The HC in a Story! He's totally The “Who needs dates when You can have dragons!?” type and my boy Arthur can Sympathize with that, He's just too interested in Cursebreaking to actually date Someone.

To sum it up

Luca 🤝 Charlie 🤝 Arthur

Be in The Ace spectrum

• I'm glad Luca at least can see Merula Isn't that Bad and actually has redeeming Qualities, She's just a kid who hasn't had Good influences and I Know Some players are angry about how her Character regress a lot but I Think It's really realistic? Like, Her trauma doesn't excuse for acting Like that, but as Someone who had a traumatic experience Myself You Can't just “Get over it” and You don't always find yourself having Healthy Coping Mechanism. It's fine regress Before You get better.

• I love Luca It's so genuine about What They're feeling, Like If They dislike Someone They don't hold on and Actually show it or If They fell in love with Someone also clearly show it. I Like Direct People in general.

• I Couldn't expected Anything else from a Tulula, MCxMerula and TulipxMC Shipper, and honestly? FUCKING GO FOR IT, I'm not polyamorous Myself but I Think It's actually Pretty cool and It's a Good twist for a love triangle.

I really Have to Work on What Should I say for every chapter, I feel Like my commentary It's kinda flat, but just so You Would know 1- I Really Like Luca as a Character 2- I haven't met up Jacob Fawley Yet, but I feel he Will be worse than Diego with The whole “Luca Is dating Two people” Thing lol

Oh my goodness my friend, I am delighted just to read your commentary at all! I don’t think it’s flat, I think it’s nice! Mad appreciation points for your saying that about Luca, and as for Jacob, well...heheh. I truly cannot wait for your reaction to his return. And that is all I will say about that.

I keep going back and forth on this. I know that one of my two twins likes stargazing, the other doesn’t. Luca does feel like the type who would, but so does Gail. I mean a lot of the stuff here is outdated/changed but when I think about my dormitory decked out in that cosmic getup, and the kickass starry outfit you can get at the Celestial Ball, and the other one that they released...just...I mean I personally love the sky but you’re right about how in reality it would probably be different. Personally? I would feel very cold. I don’t like cold. Hook me up with a heating pad or something.

Oh I would argue that Charlie being aro/ace, or somewhere along that spectrum, is borderline canon to Hogwarts Mystery. They’ve all but come right out and said it. If nothing else, they are respecting that interpretation and I appreciate them for doing so. I don’t know if J.K. intended him to be ace or not, and I don’t much care at this point - she said what she said in that interview and things have evolved from there. We the ace community claim full custody of this lovable dragon boi. I feel like Luca is definitely asexual as well (watching all their classmates being horny idiots with a raised eyebrow and slowly backing away) but obviously not aromantic, in that sense I think they’re panromantic.

Oh Merula. Luca’s journey with her is somewhat based on mine because in the beginning, I was intrigued by her as being similar to Draco but having stark, obvious differences. I played the game for Rowan first and foremost but Merula had my attention. Then the first Christmas quest happened (in hindsight, that should have been a chapter, but it wasn’t a prompt lol) and I decided to give Merula a gift because I mean hell, no one else was going to. The songbook sequence, and the snowflake making charm...I came away from that quest feeling both pity and real fondness for the best witch at Hogwarts. I have never given up on her since, and I doubt I ever will.

Also thank you so much for what you said about Luca being direct! It’s something I really wanted to be true for them because it’s oddly common for people and characters to keep their feelings to themselves for the sake of drama or because of insecurity/not knowing how to deal with feelings or not wanting to. Expressing one’s feelings (in moderation of course) is one way in which I like to think of Luca as a role model. We should all strive to be honest about our feelings.

Which was of course why they had to tell the truth about fancying Merula and lucky for them, Tulip does too. Behold, the birth of The Trouble Trio! Seriously, I love this ship for Luca but I also think it works for MC in general. There’s just...a lot of romantic subtext between these three in my opinion. And as someone who is so over love triangles, I’m glad to hear you say that because it was something I wanted to avoid. Hence Luca never being jealous, just feeling empty inside at the idea of Tulip and Merula reconciling and leaving them behind. Jealousy is another overrated romantic trope.

#The Remembrance Anon #Spoilers for Remembrance #Luca Fawley #Merula Snyde #HPHM Fanfiction

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