#like aa this is a very trauma brain thing for me but it's not even about the other person sometimes

[fakegamercomics]

there's a certain type of person that if I get in close proximity with~ I'll start fawning/apologizing/people pleasing/over explaining myself and aa it's such an awful feeling x.x I haven't really dealt with it in a while but then someone messaged me and I was like "oh yeah ... this feeing... lol" 😕

[suffarustuffaru]

✨

Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

AA this is the last fic writer ask question fr :o again it took me a while to get to all of them pfft but i appreciate them a lot!! this question especially is really sweet wkdndn but yes!! and hope anyone reading my answers to these questions found it interesting at least pfft

hmm…. compliment….. im a MAJOR stickler for detail :O i literally cant turn my brain off i have to get EVERY detail i can right whenever possible wjdnd. not that im always right bc im very much not but i try very hard to be!! and i absolutely adore trying to put a lot of detail and nuance into things in my work esp since i focus on characters mental thought process so much hah. i try very hard to do a lot (or at least i consider it a lot widjdj) of research :o for example i wanted to write astrea fic so i devoured every heinkel and reinhard related side story possible and now they give me intense brainrot. cries. since i write a lot of character study i HAVE to look at everything possible before i finish a fic or ill cry inside if i miss one (1) detail i couldve taken into account hah. so i do think im a hard working writer :o !! analyzing things for fun especially when i admire a work of fiction runs in my blood wjdnd it just Happens. i try my best!!

as for um. that one crack treated seriously gluttony if fic i did once (selfcest…). is it accurate to who gluttonybaru is as a character? no in the sense that hes written purposefully in that fic to be like. pushed to his Most Extreme. but also i did try to at least be kind of accurate bc. i combed through SO MUCH of arc 6 and the gluttony if to write him fr 😭😭 there was TOO MUCH analysis in that fic thats why its got a novel length wordcount HAH. hes always had a hate love relationship with “natsuki subaru”….

uhhh uhhh oh yeah something else vaguely related to this that just came to mind—for example my multichap pride otto fic has me like really wracking my brain bc pride otto has screentime for exactly 0.2 seconds (im totally good at math) so its like. i wanted to like analyze how he most likely thinks and what sort of behaviors he has and how hed even react in All the new shenanigans im putting him in. but im also working off of 0.2 seconds of screentime so i had to also go and look at how main otto thinks and try to make Many Educated Guesses on how otto goes from point a (main otto pre-meeting subaru) to point b (the otto we see in pride if). which is something i do every time i focus on an if character in general anyway HAH bc i think it gets easier to understand if versions of characters, no matter how different they seem from their main route selves, once you examine who their base character is and THEN you look at the if events and how its warped them away from their base character. if that makes sense. i think its really fun hah.

i also recognize though that it wouldve been maybe Easier to make pride otto in my fic a little more. dead inside. empty. bc i know that ive been writing a lot of his anger and irritation hah. and it wouldve made sense for him to be a little more tired kind of dead inside in his internal dialogue!!! but i figured that i might as well go a little differently with it to yes maybe subvert expectations a little bit (and bc. ok after arc 8 Confirming Many Things About Otto, no way pride otto wasnt angry at some point. fr.) but also bc. you know when a person whos been in a traumatic situation they couldnt escape for so long is forced to change themselves to survive? if that person manages to finally escape its like. now they gotta try and unlearn any trauma related lessons theyve learned now that the danger is over bc what helped them survive is now maladaptive bc the danger is Over. thats kind of how i approached the fic fr T^T but also i try so hard to write pride otto as the jaded ass he definitely is. theres so much jades in him for sure. (this sentence totally makes sense.)

oh!!! uh uh one small detail with pride otto—when characters have titles, he will almost Always call them by their title in both internal and external dialogue. reinhard is sword saint and julius is the greatest/finest knight and felix is blue, etc etc. otto is well. 1. emotionally constipated 2. distant from others 3. Going Out of His Way to distance himself from others 4. hes very fixated on power and hierarchy and 5. he is Very aware of the role hes played in crushing each knight in the knight trio. main otto Absolutely feels guilt even as hes being ruthless. i figured pride otto likely at least Used to feel guilty. if hes not still guilty deep down.

[memoriesofthecircularroom]

aa how do u know if your alters are really just personality phases or maybe u have bpd instead.. bc im confused how is identity confusion and dissociation like in bpd vs did/osdd alters? also how do u know if u do have amnesia a or if it’s depression or stress/constant trauma making u forget things a little? can you still have osdd/did eveb if u don’t think abt who u are sometimes like u don’t know who is fronting or haven’t switches in a while? can u have osdd/did and not be in constant dissociation like can u have breaks from it? idk how do u know they are really alters and not just normal fluidity of the personality .. like considering u also have trauma, dissociation, and possible amnesia on top of it.. but STILL.. like yes these alters(??) seem like separate people and have different aesthetics and are very different and u feel like sometimes u go between them and constantly have identity/gender/sexuality/name crisis and switch names all the time… but it’s possible .. not to be alters .. and I’m confused on what’s normal stuff for singlets and people wirh bpd and aaaa idk this is messy I’m sorry I’m just don’t want to inaccuracy describe myself as a system .. I’ve researched for years but I’m still worried it’s not right and I’m trying to hear what other people say on how to know if they’re really alters .. (to be very clear when I said “u” I mean me mnsnxns) I know u can’t dx me but like could u explain or advise some things?

Hey buddy. Sorry it took me a bit - depression hell!

Sounds like you’re struggling too. Thing is, I know basically jack shit about BPD. But that doesn’t even sound like what you’re actually struggling with.

I’m a DID system. My therapist agrees. I live my daily life as if I am 11 alters in one body. And I’ve made 100% peace with the fact that, if tomorrow, it was scientifically proven that I didn’t have DID… that doesn’t change what I’m going through. That doesn’t change anything but what I’ll call it, and how I’ll ask for help. And no stranger on the internet would ever be able to determine what that’ll look like for me.

It sounds like what you’re looking for here is less advice, and more validation. And that’s fine and all - I mean, hell, half my blog rn is just System Quirks, showing off our valid selves. But… again. A stranger online giving you validation isn’t going to last. Only YOU can put your own doubts to rest.

Idk if I have amnesia, hardcore depressive amnesia (still amnesia btw), or some fucky brain chemistry. Idk who’s fronting sometimes - and sometimes I know who I am with too much clarity. Sometimes I’m alone, and sometimes I’m not. It sounds like the best answer is alters - but what if? What if what if what if-

Just stop! 💜 It’s okay to call it alters! “But what if it’s BPD-“ and what if a meteor strikes tomorrow? What ifs will just make you spiral. You need to find an answer and find faith in that.

“But what if I’m wrong?”

Then you’re human. It’s okay to be wrong. It’s okay to make those mistakes.

“But what if it sets me back?”

That’s okay too. Life isn’t a race. The goalposts are only your own. You can move them at any time, or switch games entirely.

It’ll be okay, Anon. I’d suggest seeking therapy if you can to have a more researched individual discuss BPD VS DID with you.

[yourclownpal]

A comprehensive list of all my Ghost au's

this post will be talking about all of the ghost au's ive created or co-created including talking about ghost au's from old fandom's that i am no longer in. if you want to ask about any of my au's my ask box and dm's are always open this includes the hermitcraft au but keep it to a minimum please also if any of the creator's of the characters have said that they arent comfortable with what im making ( with proof ofc) i will edit or delete what is needed to fit in the boundaries also another thing this is a long post if you just want the art go under the cut! this post will discuss how each au works and basic plot stuff about them the fandoms in this post are hermitcraft, epithet erased, and dsmp okay first things first-

my hermitcraft au (what a pity)-

On my old tumblr account I made a few posts about it along with a fanfic which never got finished due to me not wanting to interact with the fandom any more due to personal reasons and also I'm not very good at writing imo but I think I'm ready to talk about it again. Just keep in mind i will most likely not talk about this fandom ever again at least not on here again for personal preference : -) it was about season 6 Grian since he was who i was hyperfixating on at the time, being haunted by the ghosts of Sam and Taurtis, both of them from the old roleplay series' Yandere High School, and Tokyo Soul, and taurtis from Grians old-ish smp Evo. Since I never finished the fanfiction nobody but me and close friends ever got to hear the full story i had planned but now you will i guess. It was mainly just grian stressing about Sam and Taurtis being ghosts and him worrying about being crazy, though he would still join the hippies during the area 77 war he would be significantly more stressed especially when finding out that Sam and Taurtis have been possessing his body during the night, he’s more worried about Sam though because of his track record back in the other servers( yhs and ts) it was going to be that Sam (although death isn't permanent) would go on a killing spree in Grians body which would cause the area 77 guys to put him in the facility to see what's going on with him, and it didn't get further then that. My favorite part of this au much like all of my au’s were the design elements i had for it which i'll have under the cut with the other designs. Now for a rundown of how the ghost physics work in this world, in typical ghost fashion Sam and Taurtis were not able to touch or move anything, but they were able to interact with Grian, him being the only person who could see/hear/or touch them. Their only super natural abilities is being able to possess Grian.

Okay! Time for my Epithet Erased au!: Unlike what a pity this one doesn't have a name or a fanfic to go with it as said before i'm not exactly a writer but i have talked about it a bit before on this account along with posting the designs and general concept but i'll go more in depth here! As said in my original post this au was a co-creation with my best friend and sibling @brocolibean so go check bun out ^^ Unlike ‘What a Pity’ it was more lighthearted and comedy centric because it dealt with a bit more and also the original show is a comedy. This au didn't include the character’s epithets so they are all humans. This will also include talking about house each ghost died so if your uncomfortable hearing about that you might want to skip the ghosts portion Just like the original post I'll separate the story summary into 3 parts with intervals in between to talk about the ghosts. First we have the Banzai boys part of the story. Giovanni, Spike, Dark Star, Crusher, Flame Thrower, Car Crash, and Ben all decide to move into a house together so they could all easily split the rent since its close to their collage, the house, which they get for cheap, is aa very old house with sketchy history. But it's a huge house for cheap so they don't complain they encounter the ghosts very early on living in the house and they swear to figure out how they died so they can get their memory back! The ghosts, Molly, Sylvie, Trixie, and Pheonica have no memory! All they know is that there are ghosts! They are connected to the property of this house but if you where to get something- like perhaps a stone from the property the ghost is still technically attached to it therefore the ghost can go with you anywhere Speaking of- -Phoenicia Fleecity is one of the last ghosts to show herself, her body is found in the overgrown garden flowers growing over her skeleton, she is from the victorian era making her the oldest out of the ghosts though he death is the most mysterious -Molly Blindeff is the first ghost the group meets her decomposed body is found buried in the floorboards of the living room, found when gio decided that the house needed renovation and taking matters into his own hands, she died via blunt force trauma i will not be going into detail here because i'm still thinking of doing something with this au she died in the early 2000’s -Sylvester Ashling is the second ghost to show himself though he didn't want to, his body was found in the bottom of the pond in the backyard of the house in the garden. His body while it was decomposing and falling apart was still intact, bloated from drowning. Again i wont go into detail but this wasn't an accident time of death is unknown -Trixie Roughhouse is the third person to show themselves to the Banzai Blasters she is found in the bushes in the backyard her face disfigured from some sort of explosion unlike the others it seems like it was purely an accident, like sylvie their time of death is unknown Mera Salamin is the collages part time librarian nicknamed “the library witch” she started seeing her ghost after obtaining a neck bow with a blue pendant from a pawnshop she got it cause it was pretty and didn't expect a himbo to come along with it -Indus Tarbella is a ghost who is attached to the pendant and bow Mera wear it used to be his own until he was decapitated wearing it through he was properly buried he has no troublesome memories about what happened even after seeing his body he’s just happy to be with Mera Percival King is a security guard at the college and one of the best at that, she wields a story she got from a pawn shop as its her preferred weapon she takes her job very seriously -Ramsey and Zora both died by the same sword while fighting neither remember who wielded the sword, even after death they hate each other and hate being bound together even more Everyone ends up meeting and finding out they all have ghost hijinks ensue. The way ghosts work in this world is a bit strange I'll admit but it's one of my favorites. The ghosts can interact with the human world(menma style) but

they can only talk to the others who can see them (the Banzai Blasters, mera and percy) and the ghosts can interact with each other ghosts in this au attach themselves to an item or property that has someway to do with their death, the kids in the property, Indus it's the bow, and the sword duo is well, the sword Percy carries. As alluded to from before Gio and the rest of the boys end up carrying a bit of the property with them in the form of friendship bracelets four for each of them which makes 28 different bracelets so the kids can decide who to follow around for the day.i talked about how percy and Mera’s items work enough but i would like to mention that Indus does most of the heavy lifting around the library but becaus enoone else can see indus they assume she’s magical, the glowing pendant doesn't help.

The last two au’s i want to talk about are both dream smp au’s

though i've never talked about them online until now, again thanks to @brocolibean for letting me brain vomit my way through these au’s and helping me out with things i love them please check him out I'll be honest i'm so scared of this fandom so i'm afraid to talk about my au’s please be nice to me Also this is all roleplay and fiction!<3 The first one i'll talking about is the dsmp ghost hunters au Sam runs a company where groups of people hunt ghosts for money! Those groups being Phil, Technoblade, Wilbur,Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo Dream, George, Sapnap, Quackity, Karl Bad, ant, Skeppy, and Puffy There’s most likely more but there the only people i can think of at this moment The only canonical ghost being Schlatt This au doesn't have a proper story perse it's more about gags and stuff about the different character fighting over ghosts for money but the story stuff i do have- Sbi family dynamic is real here you can rejoice, Phil adopts Tubbo after his dad (Schlatt) kicks the bucket and fucking dies , Tubbo befriend’s Ranboo some mysterious teen who just desperately needs a job so he- and the rest of the Minecraft family help him get one- though they find out Ranboo isnt as human as he was made out to be and he finds out he’s this worlds version of angels called ender’s and he’s there to protect Tubbo and Tommy which explains why the more violent ghosts start being less violent at the arrival of Ranboo joining their team. Bad isn't human either being a demon his entire group know’s plus quackity. Quackity found out but squirting him with holy water through a water gun but don't worry he promised not to tell anyone; -) Bad and Ranboo know about each other because they see each other as their true forms The minecraft fam found out about Schlatt being a ghost through Tommy- despite Tubbo telling him not to- telling them from calling up and paying for them to investigate their own house saying “technically i didn't tell them” they ended up not getting rid of Schlatt though I'm not going to talk about how the ghosts here work because it's not super important to the plot

The second au is another ghost au where the main characters are ghosts themselves,

like the others its mainly lighthearted and comedic with dark attributes The plot surrounds the sbi family moving into a new house and Tommy finding out it's being haunted by two ghost’s. Those ghosts being Tubbo and Ranboo This au isn't fully figured out but I know that he found out he was haunted by sending a selfie to someone(possibly Drista and Purpled? Since there are only other minors who were part of the dsmp lore? But ultimately idk) and them being like “yo i didn't know you had friends” and him being like “?????” Tubbo died from a boiler exploding and Ranboo died from drowning (which are apparently my two favorite deaths) this also doesn't have an official story? It was just an excuse to make ghost designs with a bit of a story without the commitment As said before it's a sbi au but also a Dadschlatt au cuz I like Dadschlatt au’s. The main story bits i have are background stuff for Tubbo and Ranboo which ill elaborate now The house was originally meant to be just a summer home because it had a large lake in the backyard Ranboo’s family would go there often but that doesn't mean his family liked him very much because of his heterochromia, Vitiligo, and his height his family thought he was strayed from god and drowned him Tubbo died during sleep while Schlatt wasn't home either out drinking or just at work he came home to the house being partially blown up and his son nowhere to be seen he calls Puffy out of fear and she calls the cops. He moves away and most likely starts drinking a bit more. The house gets rebuilt and now the sbi live there hijinks ensue! The ghosts in this au work in a simpler manor only Tommy can see them unless a photo is taken but even then they are blurred, they can float and go through walls and their ability to touch things is limited Ranboo’s memory is worse then Tubbo’s but Tubbo’s isn’t much better.

below the cut will be designs and stuff be safe pal's- there will be minor/cartoony blood-

rip me exposing my old art on this account also i'm ripping these from my fucking amino account that i don't use but still have the password too

gonna do the original what a pity drawins first them ill show a more recent rendition because i hate the old drawings

these are the old drawins i hate them

then,,, i just drew them,,,,, fuck these guys/j

thses are the old sprite edits of these four! trixies design is the only one that really changed

the ded;-; i couldnt fit him on the page

there he is! ft indus and very much alive mera(who i cant figure out how to FUCKING DRAW-)

gay's get wilbur'd/j

they lookin for ghosts

the whole fmaily is here but its quality is shit

these bitches dead! good for them,,, good for them,,,,,,/j/rp

[gravelgirty]

PTSD and Math

I may never be ‘normal’ after my past, but I’ll be glad if I can function. After all, I’m not the person I used to be, and things are always changing.

BUT.

I have to request accommodations for my math class this quarter. This is the same math I passed in high school. Now we are strangers to each other, and despite the Covid lockdown, I’m getting a tutor. I plan on getting as much out of them as humanly possible. They may very well wind up hating me, but I will adore them.

Dyscalculia is real. This is why damage to the brain, be it physical, emotional, and mental, is important. This is your BRAIN. Your brain does not care which form the damage is in. Throw the dice, the roll will come up DAMAGE. Don’t even start on the ‘sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me’. We’re grown adults in a scientific age. We know that is malarky now. It CAN hurt. It WILL hurt.

And math, which is absolutely crucial to cognitive tests, your ability to function, problem solving and critical thought...in short, your ability to function without dying...is one of the first victims to be forcibly evicted from your brain under trauma. There’s a reason why people are so slow to admit--really admit--they struggle with math. They feel alone. They feel isolated. Jokes about math are acceptable, but not your feeling of failure.

Fight or flight is a simple, dark and dirty response to a threat. Once you have that in your head, you will have to retrain yourself to solve problems again. Now that I’ve realized this, my friends are talking. One said the first time she had to struggle with math, ever, was when she was under trauma. She hadn’t known what was happening--suddenly, math was no longer a source of joy, but stress and discomfort.

If you are stressed enough, you will have a stroke. 

The difference between ‘real’ and ‘imagined’ damage is written on air.

Because your brain is injured. Your brain is still doing its best to take care of you. Your brain wants you to survive. It sees something that kicks in your stress levels, and it will do its damned best to get you away from that bad situation. What are you doing? It screeches. Don’t stop to take its name! Get away from that junk! There is no amazement in learning anxiety is a contributor for dyscalculia.

Schools of all grades, colleges, training facilities and prisons struggle with this problem nonstop. 

There are recognized, legal definitions of math disabilities such as dyscalculia. It’s a bigger presence in the world than most people are willing to believe. It affects not just your math, but the proper order of numbers. Your sense of time.  You ability to hold on to money and spend it wisely--these are only a small fraction of how this can affect you.

Maybe it was being hit in the head physically. Maybe it was my brain trying to block out the beatings. Maybe it was the day to day erosion of my self-worth until I believed i deserved it. All I know is, NONE of that helped me at all. And now, if I want a job with an actual living wage, I need to struggle out of my AA’s degree requirements and put myself right back into debt with a BA. Terrifying as that sounds, I am resolved to do this. What’s in my way more than anything? Basic homegrown mail-order math functions.

So, test yourself. Play pattern recognition games on your phone, simple puzzles, sudoku, WHATEVER. Because if there are days when you can’t seem to win the level, or your concentration flags, that’s a warning sign for your stress levels. Pay attention. The Internet chuckles about this poor soul who played the same sudoku game for weeks without realizing it was the same, single game. Yes, he really should have told his doctor about it. That’s important. That’s not insignificant.

Your brain has only one job, and that is to have your back.

Make sure you have its back. You need each other.

Math. Is. Achievable. You need it to know the difference between putting your pants on your legs or your ears. You recognize the spiral of a snail shell but do you know it’s the Golden Mean? Fractals make no sense but you’re awesome at origami? What we get wrong about math is the equations are a developed system of achievement on a conscious level. You can fathom quantum physics and still struggle to explain why x=y. But once you can prove you can do this math, you’ll have a grade that no one can take away from you.

You can have a degree at the highest levels, and still possess dyscalculia. That’s a part of you. Just remember...math is about problem-solving.

Some solutions mean stop trying to take the same tests as everyone else. I guarantee you see a different number of colors than other people. You’re not the same height; ergo, your perspective will be different. You hear differently. Your brain is unique to everyone else’s. You read different books and your handwriting will never look like they teach you in school. Damn it, you are going to process differently from the rest of the world.

And you know what? Math has grown up in the past 4,000 years. Math makes allowances for truths such as different processing and perspective. Don’t think you’re stupid, or there’s something missing in your head. 

Just...learn to get to know this part of you.

[dragqueenpentheus]

Okay no one has to read this but i DO have to write it:

PYROC VS FATHER PAUL

Ya bitch needs an art break bc im getting angry about voices existing as i try to keep myself entertained. Today is NOT a god one for sinking into repetitive line work and that’s just about all i have on the table atm

SO! Im gunna do a little thinking about my little meow meows all fucked up by religion. Just a comparison for my sanity and interests. Pyroc is my baby i wrote him for the first time years ago. Five?????????? Whadda hell. Going on six.

ANYWAY john joined religion because of his trauma. His sister died and he felt lost. He was unmoored in this fishing village and looking for reason looking for hope. Hed had his heart broken and trying to make sense of tragedy on his own was totally beyond him. Thats why his interactions with riley in AA are SO good like. He knows that confusion and he knows the rhetoric that’s supposed to combat it. Only it dooesnt work for riley.

The same sort of thing happens for pyrc, only inverted. Loss urns him away from god and religion because its SO strong in his family and not only is he loosing trust in god, but his kin as well. He’s suspicious there’s mre they arent telling him, at the point of his fathers death. And he agrees to, on the surface, absolutely wholly throw himself in to being the second the family and the village need. But he’s keeping his treachery under wraps.

That’s one of the coolest things about father paul imo is like. That slow unraveling of what is. Frankly. An awful half assed plan, driven by fear and loneliness and desperation and dementia and love. Even VERY obvious things like. Taking down the newspaper photo of his young self ‘slip’ by him. I think, on some level, its DEEPLY intentional. He wants people to CHOOSE this. He wants people like bev. He wants people who see him and are in aw of him beating god. Of killing death. He wants to be worshiped and adored and for people to come to him willingly, no tragedy driving them to his arms.

Pyroc also wnats to be worshipped, but he ALSO wants to do the worshipping. He really longs for an element of almost????? But not quite??? Subjection?? He wants to be shown something and for a Great Voice to tell him, unquestioningly and unerringly that it is GOOD. Full stop. And then he wants to spend his life worshipping it. But this booko is an exploration of how….. no such thing exists. And more importantly no great voice exists either. There is nothing wholly good, nothing wholy evil. His lack of faith in himself once he becomes god is him starting to understand that as well. Thats on purpose baked into the lore. The starting point was ‘what if god was a position and in order to get promoted you had to be a murderer. No matter what’. He understands things are not wholly good, at that point. I onder how long it will be for him to realize they are not fully evil as well?

Bc pruitt does hm hm hm an interesting move. Where he takes something the narritve is very sure to communicate is EVIL no wiggle room just fact. Even if its driven by animal instinct its. Evil. And he makes it, not just good, but HOLY. And god i LOVEEEE that for him i ADOREEE that what a MOVE. Driven by desperation and dementia and relief and ‘if god saved me than maybe i can be good despite loving and sinning and maybe if i defeat god then i will be Thee Good’. SO sexy of him. Im really fascinated by his morality. He seems to have an understanding of the shades of grey in some respects??? But if he had a BETTER one with more forgiveness in his heart i feel like hed have left the church anyway after sarah was born??? Even if millie didnt ask him??? That might just be my own sensibilities creeping in but ….. like he culd have seen her on the weekends. He can do other jobs. Hes straight (??? Not totally convinced of this) he could have just dated her that makes me crazy. LIKE OBV HE HAD LINES HE THOUGHT THAT WOULD CROSS AND HE HAD INTERNALIZED THE CHURCH AND THE RULES AND SHE WAS MARRIED AND ECT ECT i know he couldnt have really but. Thye were straight. They coulda.

Im not gunna do fantasy homophobia bc i think its …………….. Boring. But i think some element of??? The vindlegaurd line MUST be passed along and for that particular rules must be applied. But thats also boring as hell :/ maybe i can work in my parthenogenesis lore?????????? I bet pyroc would love building that spell in any universe. That’s the sequal when he goes to magic university in helsin. But yeah i do like the concept that. Anyone can have a baby thru magic its just a time and energy commitment. Just a matter of wanting it enough together. Every baby is so deeply wanted and its mere existence is proof. Thats dope i love that. HMMM to be decided at a later date when im deeper into the story i think. I still havent figured out fully how and where and why orion is going to be invovled and if???? Pyroc and orion are even going to be romantic??????? Im torn im TORn…….

Thikns about john bonding w sarah over science and learning and starts wEEPING…. Like theres some surity beloved. Its just a matter of uncovering. I think sarah felt that same thirst for answers and hunted them differently. Her faith is in logic and science. I loveeee her god. Every scene w her and her dad absolutely RUIN me like!!!!!! SHE DOESNT KNOW!!! SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW LOVED SHE IS!!!!!! I hope at hte very end she saw the blood as the gesture of love it SO clearly was and not him trying to poison her. God i love that she spat it out. GOD. Thats about being gay, btw. Spits the religious offering that could save you across the gasoline soaked church floor like BABE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think we as a collective should talk about the possibiites around sarah/erin more. Bc their defiance combined would be. Earth SHATTERING for crockett.

In the future pyroc gets a kid. Ever since that campaign where Enemy ended up playing his daughter im like. How did i NOT know this idiot wanted nothing more in the entire world than to travel it with his daughter. I dont care how or why hes getting a kid. Hed be so doting and awful abut it. He would need orion as a co-parent for the kids self esteem to be normal levels. thINKS ABOUT PAUL GETTING TO RAISE SARAH AND JUST ABSOLUTELY GASSING HER UPPPPPPPP HANGING EVERY DOODLE SHE EVER MADE ON TEH FRIDGE. BOASTING ABOUT HER SCEINECE PROJECT OT ANYONE WITHIN EYESIGHT EVEN THOUGH ‘WE K N O W JOHNWE WERE ALL AT THE SCEINCE FAIR’!!!!!!!!!!! Let these fuck ups be doting fathers im fucking begging. That scene where paul is like. You take ccare of everyone on the island sarah. Its more than being a doctor. You comfort them.

HM HM comfort is such a thing for Miss Bitch like!! He sees it as a Good Thing. He tries to bring it for riley by asking to hold the AA meetings on island ((also manipulation. Obvously also manipulation. I wouldnt have bene shocked if he was slipping the vampire blood into the coffee every meeting either. But thats just a theory. A game theory.)) ANYWAY he sees comfort as hly. The church gave it to him when he needed it. The angel gave it to him in the cave. Feeling safe and warm is HIGH on his list of priorities and what makes him hand over respect.

I think pyroc has lived a very comfortable life in SO many ways, but in none he. Activly recognizes. A key part of his character arc his him…. Opening his eyes to the world around them. Seeing the privilege he has and being like. Wait. This isnt Right. We have to change thi. And when no one agrees ti shifts to I have to change this. With Violence. A little revolutionary <3 it only costs the life of his whole ass family

Thats more fun comparison ground like…… paul is SO much about I know whats right and there is a cost but i AM ignoring it. Like HE KNOOOOWSSSS he knooooows he just doesnt want o See. I’m not sure if im going to surprise yroc with the ……megadeath of. His whole family. Or if it’s a choice he has to activly make. I think a choice makes it more compelling, more layerd. It has to be in the moment though, becaus ei think thats. A key difference between them. Pyroc wouldnt do it.. hed just leave hed peace out and do what he could in small ways. But he wouldnt do his big stand off with god. Hed shrink his goals in order to not hurt his family. Out of love?? Intimidation?? Some instinct wihtin him that balks at the idea of disobedience??? I think even he doesnt know. But i LOVE john becaue he jsut decides to lie. He closes his eyes and says i am being stupid on purpose. I think thats PERHAPS more compelling than good guy coward pyroc BUT!!!!! Thats who he is rip to ths little man. Cant change him now hes a whole ass child in my head. The PLOT i can change. Him….. not without massive character development <3

UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MM set my brain on FIRE!!!! Im so glad nano is coming up. I love sharpening pyroc against the comparison of other AMAZING characters. Father paul hill my beloved millstone <3 anyway sorry to anyone who reads this its literally me unhinging my jaw and emptying my brain out. I had to write stuff that wasn’t novel or fic. A little character time down and dirty. I wil NOT be editing this love and light to future me trying to decode this

[shayprose]

On Sobriety, my Quiet Place, and the Sliver

It’s difficult to wrap my mind around where I am now. Not the physical — my body is in Somerville, MA. That’s easy. I’m talking about the bits in between where my body is and where my mind drifts; the emotional and the spiritual, the elusive two states that are hardest to describe.

I’m sober, you see, and with that comes the immensity of where I was. You can’t think of one without the other, and the shoe that drops on the other side of sobriety is — well, it’s a topic that sells sad artists a lot of albums. The little golden medallion I carry around with me to signify that I’ve made it through a year of “recovery” is so heavy in my pocket because of its significance. It’s a little metallic tomb full of memories made manifest of a very, very dark time.

But if I’m practicing radical honesty, then it — “it” — is actually the pinnacle of so many other things, so many other memories, all interwoven into one point. The threads of a long life of good things and bad things, all culminating in the reason I carry that medallion around with me, despite its heft.

It all started when the quiet place I used to go to, deep inside myself, the safe place with all of its carefully hewn comforts, where pleasant memories and dreams were the wallpaper and the rosewood floors, was destroyed in a 9-alarm fire called addiction. And I miss it there, so, so much.

This thought dump is rambling already, but bear with me. I suppose the nature of what I’m saying is the rambling point I’m trying to make: so much of my days now are made up of trying to grapple onto the thoughts that started spiraling around me like a hurricane when I let myself black out every night. Rambling is par for the course.

Right before I tipped over the edge, after a night (or an afternoon) of drinking, I remember thinking every so often, “Self, you’re really fucking up, my dude,” and having the actual sensation that my mind was melting. It was a vibration that ran through my face, surged through my brain, and then ricocheted down into my outer extremities. A few times, that shockwave made me panic and I filled up my Google search with things like, “Effects of alcoholism on the brain,” and “Can I lose my mind from alcohol?”

Scary stuff, right? I think the scariest thing, though, is that after a while, I stopped Googling those things. It didn’t really matter anymore, after all — neurodegeneration was, according to my 2 a.m. panic-laden internet searching, impossible to reverse, so fuck it, right? Black out, self. Go for it. Let it all fall away, and if you remember anything from the night before, well, try harder to forget next time. The recipe can always be tweaked, after all! Don’t stop at three shots after your four martinis. Add a fourth, and chase it with a Truly. Add a beer if it’s a work night — they fill you up so you don’t have to eat dinner.

The quiet place was still accessible in those early days of my downward spiral, to some degree, fragmented though it was. And then, it wasn’t.

The most painful part of my shredded humanity, I think, was when I tried one day to make the journey to my quiet place, through meditation and soft music, and I stumbled over the corpses of the things that I sacrificed for him. There was Dignity, her face bruised and slapped around, still beautiful in death. Over there was Desire, who held all of my dreams on his back, now reduced to a crumpled-up heap on the floor, barely recognizable anymore. The hardest body to see was Hope, whose glowing effulgence used to be the light that powered my quiet place, her soft illumination the fuel for all the pretty candles that lit up the darkness. Her light was snuffed out completely in death.

And so, my light was dimmed in life.

When I finally waded through the mistakes and the tragedies, I arrived at a place I called home for so many years, the place inside myself I built through all of my childhood traumas, to find the windows shattered, the garden ransacked, the curtains torn. Every square inch of my safe haven was hollowed out. In November, 2019, the last time I tried to go there before I let it go completely, I remember thinking, “You did your best, and it wasn’t good enough. You’re free.”

I had woken up at 3 a.m. to make sure he was safe, and when I saw that he wasn’t, I drowned the terror in half a handle of gin. The next morning, when I got to work, I started packing my desk because I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with it. A few cigarettes, a few pills, a few coffees later, I unpacked my desk, went to a few meetings, and then purposefully forgot the way back to my quiet place.

In therapy, I learned that something like my “quiet place” is a very real trauma response folks can develop. My therapist explained that I was wise beyond my years to have taken so much pain in my childhood and translated it into a lighthouse, where I could always go if I needed to escape. “It’s healthy,” he said, “to know that you are safe inside yourself. What changed?”

What indeed. Before I started writing this, I took a trip through the pages of this old tumblr and remembered where I used to be then, emotionally and spiritually, and the difference seems to be that back then, when I thought I was giving myself wholly to whatever mission I was on, I still held back just enough to keep the quiet place alive. A sliver of my mind was always tethering me to safety, and I think I knew that. I took comfort in that. It was me remembering to spare some energy to keep my own lights on. Good job, me.

There’s no sense in trying to rationalize addiction, and that’s not what I was doing when I flipped through these pages — people spend their entire careers trying to decipher the origins of that disease, and I’m not going to crack the code by rereading a young adult’s foibles. However, I do think there’s something important in the work of sifting through the examples I’ve left behind for myself. To maybe see where the path I walked so carefully through life became so twisted.

The sliver I mentioned before, the place in my mind that tethered me to safety, took a risk. He reached out a hand to someone who said they needed me, and in a state of perfect trust, I allowed him to free fall. After all, who’s wouldn’t after hearing these things?

“I will always love you. It’s just you and me now. Don’t worry; I got you.”

A running leap over a cliff, and then

“This terrible thing is part of me. I understand if you want to leave, but I can’t stop crying. Do you want to leave me?”

eyes closed,

“It’s not your turn right now — I love him, too — but someday, I’ll give you what you need. I love you.”

I let myself fall.

“I tried to kill myself — it was all set up, and I was ready. But your face is what stopped me. I didn’t because of you. I need you.”

I knew I shouldn’t have jumped, but

“I promise I’m trying to get better. Therapy just doesn’t work for me; meetings just don’t work for me. But I’ll do it for you.”

if I could help someone, someone who needed me,

“I told you I’m working on it. If you don’t believe me, then you are hurting me, and hurting me will just lead me back to the darkness. Don’t hurt me.”

then who cares if I get hurt.

“They don’t love you like I do. Let’s go get breakfast, and I’ll teach you how to take care of yourself.”

I fell. That sliver, that tether, fell farther and farther, until I couldn’t see him anymore. He was weighed down by all of the affirmations, all the promises of love and safety, all the hollow words. And the cruelest:

“This is a risk for me, too, but that’s why it’s so important that we do this together; no one else understands.”

Without that tether, without the quiet place, I was numb. And I liked being numb. I kept adjusting the recipe to be number longer, and that was how I lived.

So much of AA is about putting yourself into the shoes of your peers who are going through the same thing. Everyone has a story like mine. They might not think about it the way I do, with personification and magic, but their stories all have a similar energy to them, which is accompanied by a familiar far-away look in their eyes. Every story also has something that ties us all together —

— when all of us felt a spark. A tiny mote of light that flickers behind our eyes and tells us that there’s another path, less twisty and less dark, where we can take a deep breath, if we’ll just follow it. A moment when the free fall stops, even for a second.

Mine came when I woke up next to him one morning, the day after I sobbed my way home on a bus from NYC. We had gotten too drunk at a bottomless brunch, and we went to another bar (probably at my pressuring). I spilled a martini, I fell off my stool, we left, and then the memory becomes hazier. We fucked in our hotel room? We ran through Manhattan to the bus terminal? We almost missed it? My memory picks back up with me weeping because I was confused. Where are we? What are we doing? Please don’t be mad at me — I hate me, too. Will you marry me? Please? When is your next trip? Will you please be safe? Will you be safer if we’re married? I’ll protect you. Just think about me. Am I enough?

My spark ignited. The day after that trip, I looked down at him and, as if I were waking up from a nightmare, I thought, “You will never change. But I can. And fuck you.”

As I climbed out of bed that day, my brain fried from my hangover, I grabbed my phone and sent a message to a friend who had gotten sober the year before. He told me we could get coffee so I could ask him questions. I went. That’s when he told me about a meeting he was chairing. “Come,” he said. “It’ll be easier to explain if you just see it for yourself.”

So I did. My nightmare came with me, supported my decision, held my hand, and while I was watching my friend chair the meeting, as I listened to the stories of everyone in that church basement, I realized I wouldn’t be whole, I wouldn’t be safe, unless I didn’t need that hand in mine anymore.

A year has gone by since then. Over time, the spark grew into a candle flame, which exploded into a fire, and I haven’t had a drink or a drug since. The medallion is heavy, and it brings me back to NYC, to the thousandfold traumas of emotional abuse, to the guilt of allowing myself to be caught up in a whirlwind of self-doubt, but I’m learning to find comfort in the weight of it.

This is the first time I’ve written anything like this since I lost my footing. It isn’t anything like my other posts — my therapist says I’ll probably never get that same easygoing talent back, not without a lot of effort, and so I suppose that’s what this is. My therapist inspired this post, actually. He’s sober, too, and knows what I mean when I talk about not being able to wrap my mind around where I am; when I talk about the weight of the medallion, and the two sides of that coin. He says to me, over and over:

“You can trust yourself again now. You never lost your quiet place, it’s all still there. It’s just different now.”

I’m pleased to report that my new quiet place is in bloom. Hope is alive again and her light is as gentle and steadfast as ever. Desire and Dignity are rebuilding my gardens, and the Sliver, the little tether I hold closest of all, is the gatekeeper, the star in the sky, and the only thing that matters to me anymore. His name is Shay, and I love him again. I can’t wait for you to meet him.

[saundraswriting]

Interior Design Chapter 3: Breakthrough

SUMMARY:Your spontaneous hug leads Bucky to have a breakthrough. Bucky makes his own decisions, realizing a few things along the way.

WARNINGS: Intense emotions, allusions to canon-typical violence. 

NOTES:This is an everyone lives/no one dies, Living in the compound, Non Civil War compliant, No Sokovian Accords AU. Also, small chapter here from Bucky's POV. I felt the way the last chapter ended needed to have some consequences. 

Previous / Next

Bucky paused in the entryway to the kitchen. Everyone was focused on the opposite side of the room, where it looked to be a girl getting introduced. Bucky didn't mind, meant no one was staring at him as he came out of his room for the first time in a couple days. He looked at the girl who was waving cutely at the handful of Avengers in the room. She was decently dressed, eyes wide in wonder, body soft and relaxed.

'Civilian. No threat.'  Bucky's mind told him. He came down to get some water, he was glad to not be on parade like the others. However you comment to Sam triggered his sarcasm. He'd been trying to be as unobtrusive as possible since Tony offered him room and board. He was a barely function human being getting over 70 years of trauma, adding in sarcasm and sass would only alienate more people. He couldn't help it, his response forced its way out.

"If you are here, meeting us. You've accepted." Bucky blinked at the sound of his voice. You turned to face him and the others watched you both. Bucky carefully didn't meet your gaze but could tell you saw something that resonated with you.

"Sh! Don't say that too loud. I haven't told Tony yet." You snarked back and before he knew it you'd moved in front of him, talking to him. "Sargent Barnes? Thank you, for serving your country all those years ago in the 107th. I am sorry you had to suffer so very much to get here. and well..."You trailed off hesitating, catching Bucky's attention. In a flash you wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug, whispering into his chest. "Welcome home, solider."

He was frozen unable to react. He felt you tense and slacken your grip before pulling away completely. He could feel his eyes burn with tears and his arms were raised as if to push you away or pull you closer, he didn't know. You were the first person to welcome him home in decades. The idea warmed his heart in a way he couldn't explain, his time spent at war wasn't useless when people like you now excited. He stared at you in amazement. With zero thought or hesitation you had eliminated the self-imposed comfort zone. He looked across the room tears leaking to find Steve already looking at him distraught. You were talking to him and he was listening just not fully, about houseplants. Bucky only catching the end of it.

"Something that depends on you to live without major consequences can do wonders for mental health. Sargent Barnes needs to care for something, now that he no longer has to protect you Mr. Super-solider." Your parting comment brought fresh tears to Bucky's eyes and a sheen to Steve's but you were already pulling on Tony's sleeve to move on to notice.

In minutes your crossed his self-made distance, initiated physical contact, and brought up thoughts he would rather keep buried then gone in seconds. You reminded him like a hurricane; came and went leaving only destruction in your wake, making a path to rebuilding and coming together. Bucky sniffed wetly, laughing slightly at the intensity of the moment. Steve chuckled and sighed coming over to stand in front of him. they embraced in a tight hug, both men needed the contact, still crying silently.

"I like her. She is so soft and warm." Bucky said as they separated. Steve smiled at his friend. Bucky needed more people in his life, who wouldn't judge him.

"I am going to kill her. She is tactless and rude. How dare she made you uncomfortable like that? She has psych minor she should know better." Natasha ranted from the couch.

"No!" Bucky demanded, wiping his face clean on tears. "She is so good. Innocent. She meant well." Bucky moved his gaze to the hallway he was sure he saw you dart down with Tony. The others were taken aback at his defense. "She welcomed me home." Bucky's voice broke. Sam gasped and nodded in understanding.

"Feels different the first time, doesn't it." Sam spoke in agreement. The rest of the team looked confused.

"Yeah, to put it mildly. I am just surprised, a civilian like her, how would she know?" Bucky spoke to Sam. He was looking into the middle distance, remembering what had just happened.

"Having someone welcome you home, welcome you back into civilian life, understanding that you went away and have come back...can be paradigm shifting. Just helps you feel accepted, understood." Sam tried to explain. The others made noises of realization.

"What did she talk to you about right before she left." Bucky asked Steve, while pulling out some leftovers. He didn't want to think of the last time he ate or why he was suddenly ravenous.

"Houseplants. She said and I quote "Coming from someone once extremely depressed and still struggles with it, plants help. Something that depends on you to live without major consequences can do wonders for mental health. Something that depends on you to live without major consequences can do wonders for mental health. Sargent Barnes needs to care for something, now that he no longer has to protect you Mr. Super-solider."" Steve repeated. You comments made him worry, you seemed so joyful and innocent, he couldn't imagine you struggling so much that the only thing keeping you going was taking care of a plant or two.

"Oh, I like that idea. actually sounds wonderful. She isn't wrong." Bucky said hesitantly, like he was tasting the words before he said them. "I am not sure what my job is anymore. A long time ago, you were small and I was big. You needed me. Then you were big and I was small. Still you needed me. Then I was gone and big and you didn't need me. Now you're big and I am big and you don't need me. I miss being the protector, the caregiver." Bucky admitted.

"Buck, I am so proud of you, that had to be hard to admit. But trust me, at no point did my brain or common sense or self-preservation grow with me. I may be able to make battle plans in seconds and kick alien ass but I am still lost without you. I still need you to come save my stupid ass. I may not need you to protect me from everything but I will always need my best friend. Until the end of the line, jerk." Steve said. "If you want plants in your room to relearn who you are, I will go build a damn greenhouse if you want. I know you worked with goats in Wakanda but that would be hard to get Tony to approve of though." Steve said grinning. Bucky grinned back. Steve wanted to cry all over again.

"Let us start with a few plants for now. I only had four male goats, extremely easy and they weren't only mine." Bucky teased. "Who was she?" Steve had to blink at eh conversation shift but rolled with it all the same.

"Her name is Y/N L/N. She was hired as our interior designer. She is going to help make this place livable and make it homey. I guess." Steve said.

"She will also have rein to do things while we aren't here for maintenance, and housekeeping" Natasha had a sharp edge to her words that caught Bucky and Steve attention.

Nat, enough. She was trying to help. You saw her afterwards. She was contrite and embarrassed. She knew that she overstepped even with good intentions. Y/N is the best NYC has to offer and for good reason. I know new people make you nervous for good reason. It is understandable but I will not have her feeling unwelcome in what is going to be her home too." Steve matched her tone, refusing to give any ground.

Natasha seemed to deflate nodding in agreement. "I know and I will do better. I like her. But her actions were inexcusable. She made Barnes uncomfortable"

"But it wasn't unwelcome. It was startling but I enjoyed it. It was nice." Bucky confessed. Everyone turned to look at him. Bucky had been through more than humanly possible, even working as hard as he was to recover, physical contact was had for him to accept.

Bucky allowed you in farther than anyone pardon Steve and all he knew about you was your name, your perfume, and how your arms felt around his torso. He also knew he couldn't wait to see you again.

"I sound like aa broken record but she was warm and soft. She didn't even hesitate. She knew me, knew enough, but wasn't scared." He couldn't stop looking at the doorway you walked through.

Steve felt his heart warm and soul heal, you had brought something to Bucky that he had been denying himself for so long. You batted it away, easy as pie. Steve made a mental note to find you and thank you for bringing his friend one of the first bits of happiness and humanity he has had in 70 years.

Bucky went back to his room-wanting some space from everyone after the incident in the kitchen-thoughts whirling and at the center was you. His room was bare and minimalistic, like everyone's The team only made quick day trips or overnight trips to help get everything settled. He looked at his window empty but he could imagine a small green plant in a terra cotta pot soaking up the sun and thriving under his care. He pulled out his tablet and with F.R.I.D.A.Y's help began looking at plants for some ideas. He wanted something hearty but attractive to start. As he surfed through blogs and hobby sites, the peace lily and cast iron plants caught his attention as did the pothos. He put his tablet down wanting to think over his choices, adopting a family member is not to be taken lightly. He figured go running would help clear his mind, he had a lot to think about. The thumping of his feet  on the treadmill matched the thumping of his heart. He lost himself in the sensation-thinking his own thoughts, making his own choices. The peace that came with the awareness  of himself, that he was no longer under the control of anyone else-made his breath catch. He finished his run and headed back to his room, seeing Steve on the way. He wanted to stop and talk to him. Steve was always supportive but he felt he needed to do his part and order his thoughts and emotions before trying to vocalize.

In that moment he decided on getting a large peace lily plant to bring life to his room. He smiled at nothing-content. He had a choice, he made a decision. He was able to-all on his own. He was happy, in this moment, happy to be alive. Happy for the first time in what felt like forever.

Previous / Next

*******************************************************************************************

Okay. Chapter three. How are we doing? I have a bit more written and then it is free style time. What did you think of the POV switch?

Do you guys want a tag list for this? Should I make one? please let me know, I can do that.

[splendidlyimperfect]

Sting’s entire life changed when he was eleven years old and his best friend Rogue told a secret that he’d promised to keep. Taken away from the father who abused him and the best friend who’d tried to save him, Sting tried to start a new life with his uncle. But the trauma wasn’t easy to escape, and eventually Sting turned to drinking to forget the things that hurt.

Now he’s an adult, and he hasn’t been sober in years. But when drinking nearly kills him and a near-stranger saves his life, Sting has a chance to turn his life around, and maybe become the man that Rogue deserves to love.

Chapter Summary: Sting starts to build a new life with Rogue.

Chapters (15/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Natsu Dragneel & Sting Eucliffe, Sting Eucliffe & Weisslogia Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Natsu Dragneel, Rogue Cheney, Gray Fullbuster, Weisslogia (Fairy Tail) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Trans Character, Trans Sting, Friendship, Childhood Friends, Sting-focused story, Sting is a disaster, Natsu’s a great friend, Rogue tries to do what’s right, Tumblr: FTLGBTales Series: Part 2 of i’m still standing

**CW for first sexual experience after sexual trauma

-----

re·​build | \ (ˌ)rē-ˈbild noun : to restore to a previous state; to build again

.

xv winter age twenty-one

.

Despite everything changing, life goes on.

Loving Rogue is like being up in the tree fort – familiar and aching all at the same time. There’s no hesitation in the way they touch, in the way Rogue’s fingers trace gentle patterns across Sting’s scars, in the soft press of their lips. He loves Sting so fiercely, and Sting doesn’t always feel worthy of the way Rogue looks at him.

“I’ve done so much stupid shit,” Sting says one day while they’re sitting on the couch, Rogue’s head in his lap while he braids Rogue’s hair.

“We all have,” Rogue reassures him.

Sting shakes his head. “Not like this.” He gets to the end of the braid and studies it, then combs his fingers through it and starts again. “Not… I just…”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Rogue asks. 

Continue reading on AO3

The question catches Sting off guard, and he doesn’t answer for a moment. Rogue knows a lot of things about Sting’s life already, but not everything. Sting had moved to a different AA meeting, because being around Rogue would make it harder to be honest, and they haven’t talked much about it since.

“Yeah,” he says as he combs Rogue’s hair out of his face. “But some of it sucks. Most of it, actually. I don’t want you to…”

“I love you,” Rogue reassures him, and Sting knows he means it. “You can tell me anything.”

So Sting does. He talks about his mom’s death and his dad’s drinking, about the hospital and Uncle Wes and Officer Kelly. He talks about coming out, about becoming Sting, and then about losing himself again. He talks about the first time he drank, and the last time he drank, and how it took him almost dying at Natsu’s feet to get his shit together.

“I’m glad you met Natsu,” Rogue says, tipping his head back into Sting’s hands and gazing up at him.

“I would probably be dead without him,” Sting says quietly.

“I’m glad you’re not.”

“Me too.”

~

Training at the academy is a lot harder than getting his GED, but Sting is determined not to fail. Having Rogue around makes things easier, even when Sting is terrified.

They get pictures taken in a mall photobooth after a date one evening. In the first three they’re laughing, and in the last one Rogue is gazing at Sting like he’s the only person in the world. Sting keeps the picture in his wallet, and any time he’s afraid, he pulls it out and remembers why he has to be brave.

Eventually they move in together. Uncle Wes comes to help Sting pack his things, and when he sees the stuffed bear propped up on Sting’s bookshelf, he nearly starts to cry.

“It felt like...” Sting hesitates, taking the bear from Uncle Wes’ hands and running his fingers over the worn fur. “It reminded me of you.”

“I wish…” Uncle Wes swallows, his words thick with emotion as he sits down on the bed and stares at his hands. “I should have come for you.” Sting frowns. “Before,” Uncle Wes clarifies. “When you were little. Before he hurt you.” He looks up at Sting and his expression is so distraught that Sting nearly starts to cry. “When I got to the hospital, and you were… I hadn’t seen you in so long.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Sting says, sitting down on the bed and running his thumbs up the stuffed bear’s arms.

“I didn’t know,” Uncle Wes says, reaching over and covering Sting’s hand with his own. “If I had, I would have come, I promise.”

“I know,” Sting reassures him.

“You used to live in Saint Portage,” Uncle Wes says quietly. “Just down the street from me.”

Sting frowns. “I—we did?”

Uncle Wes nods. “When you were born, your dad was busy with work, and I helped your mom out sometimes. We’d go to the playground just down the street. You always loved the swings.”

“Why…” Sting hesitates, sifting through his memories and finding nothing. “I don’t remember.”

“I know,” Uncle Wes says. “You would have only been three or so when your mom passed away and your dad moved you here. I missed you so much. I loved having you for Christmas, too – you were a terror and liked to try to unwrap all the presents before Christmas morning.”

Sting laughs, wiping at his face once he realizes he’s started crying. “Sounds about right,” he manages.

“After Grammie died, your dad never brought you back,” Uncle Wes says sadly. “I called him, asked to visit, but he just…” He sighs. “I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know what. He wasn’t a nice man, and I wish I could have gotten to you before he hurt you like that.”

Sting sighs, shifting closer to Uncle Wes. “You couldn’t have done anything,” he says quietly. “That wasn’t the first time he’d hurt me. He’d just been hiding it better before.” Uncle Wes makes a frustrated sound. “I’m glad I ended up with you, even if I was awful.”

“You weren’t awful,” Uncle Wes says. “You were scared and traumatized, and I didn’t know how to make it better.”

“I didn’t either,” Sting whispers, voice breaking as he leans in. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Uncle Wes says, and when he pulls Sting into a hug, Sting lets himself feel safe in the embrace.

~

A week later, Uncle Wes brings over a box of Sting’s things from his house to the new apartment. It’s mostly books, but there’s a stack of old photos at the bottom of the box that Sting’s never seen before.

“I don’t remember these,” he says to Rogue as they sit on the kitchen floor and go through them one by one. Sting’s in most of them – a blond toddler with a wild mess of curls and dirty sundresses. In one of them he’s riding on Uncle Wes’ shoulders, and in another they’re at the beach, with Sting playing in the sand. “I wish I could.”

“Trauma does funny things to your brain, love,” Rogue says gently.

Sting sighs. “I know. I just look happy, and I wish I could remember feeling that way.”

Rogue shuffles closer and wraps his arm around Sting, kissing his temple as he keeps flipping through photographs. At the very bottom of the stack is the photo Sting loves – the one of him and Rogue with the dandelions.

“I remember this one,” he says quietly, running his thumb over Rogue’s shy smile in the photograph. “I was happy.”  

“Me, too,” Rogue says. “Mom says I was inconsolable when the dandelions died.”

“I picked you new ones, though,” Sting says, pulling together a vague recollection of blue skies and yellow flowers. “Right?”

“You did.”

“Good.”

When they’re done sorting through the rest of the box, Sting takes the dandelion photo and pins it up on the middle of the fridge.  

~

One afternoon, nearly eight months after they find each other, Sting and Rogue are lying in bed, curled up together as the sun spills through the window. Rogue’s propped up on Sting’s bare chest, gazing at him and brushing Sting’s curls out of his eyes. When his fingers touch the scar that runs through Sting’s eyebrow, his expression turns sad.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wish I could have kept you safe, back then.”

“You did,” Sting replies, tipping his head to the side and kissing Rogue’s palm. “You were my only safe place. All those nights—every time I came to you and you let me stay, you kept me from getting hurt.”

Rogue sighs, leaning down and kissing the scar. “I didn’t understand,” he says. “If I had known what he—that...”

“You were just a kid, too,” Sting insists. “You did everything you could.”

“But if—”

“We can’t live in ‘if,’ darling,” Sting says gently. “We’re here now.” He tugs the elastic off the end of Rogue’s braid and wraps it around his wrist, then runs his fingers through Rogue’s hair. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time, and nothing’s going to take me away from you again.”

Rogue lets out a shaky sigh, shifting so he can kiss Sting. His fingers drift up Sting’s side, over his ribs, across the scars on his chest – the good ones, from six months ago, that make him feel more like the man he’s always been. Sting hums under the touch, pulling Rogue closer.

“I want you to make love to me,” he murmurs against Rogue’s lips. Rogue stills, pulling back and gazing down at Sting.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “We don’t—”

“I’m sure.” Sting’s hands are steady as he tucks Rogue’s hair behind his ears. Rogue knows about Ryan, about the pain and resentment and awful dreams. Sting cries sometimes, late at night when they’re curled under the blankets, and Rogue kisses his forehead and holds him close.

“Okay,” Rogue says, gaze soft and open. “We can stop anytime you want to. Only what you’re comfortable with.”

Sting nods. “I know,” he says, pulling Rogue back in for a kiss.

Rogue takes his time. He maps out the lines and curves of Sting’s body slowly, first with fingers and then with his lips, gentle kisses against soft skin. He touches every scar, even the ones on Sting’s wrists and forearms, and it feels like absolution. It’s like his body is forgiving him for hurting it, one kiss at a time.

“I love you,” Rogue whispers against Sting’s skin as he slides his hand under the band of Sting’s boxers. Sting lifts his hips, kicking away the fabric and doing the same for Rogue. They’ve been naked together before, but it’s never felt like this – holy and healing.

“Touch me?” Sting asks, pressing his forehead to Rogue’s and twining their fingers together.

“Where?”

“Here.” Sting rolls onto his side to face Rogue and settles their joined hands on the back of his thigh.

Rogue kisses him gently, fingers teasing and caressing and eventually slipping into him, slowly, like Sting is a precious thing. When Sting tenses he stops, but Sting quickly shakes his head and nudges him to keep going.

“Please,” he says, pressing his forehead to Rogue’s shoulder and gasping against his skin. He’s never felt like this before – never had someone touch him when he’s entirely here, sober and whispering yes. “It’s... it doesn’t hurt.” A quiet, breathy moan escapes him. “It feels good.”

Rogue curls his free hand around the back of Sting’s neck. “It’s supposed to feel good, love,” he says, and his voice is tinged with something quiet and sorrowful. “I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know,” Sting says. “I know.”

Rogue insists on Sting being on top of him, thighs shaking on either side of his hips, hands fisted in the sheet near Rogue’s hair. “There you go,” Rogue murmurs, stroking Sting’s back gently as he sinks down, taking Rogue inside him. “I’ve got you.”

“Fuck,” Sting whispers. He slows and then stops, just because he can, and Rogue doesn’t complain. He just keeps murmuring quiet reassurances, staying perfectly still and letting Sting take the lead.

“You’re gorgeous,” Rogue says, rubbing his thumb in circles over Sting’s hip. “You’re perfect.” Sting shivers, then shifts down the rest of the way, gasping at the sensation. It’s so different. He’s not broken, not aching, not just a warm body that’s too tired and scared to say no.

With Rogue, he’s important. Under Rogue’s gentle touch, with Rogue inside of him and underneath him, Sting feels precious. Loved. Safe.

When he slowly starts to move, a quiet curse spills from Rogue’s lips and his fingers tighten around Sting’s hip. He tips his head back and his hair spreads across the pillow like spilled ink, and Sting’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. When Sting leans down and kisses Rogue’s throat he can feel Rogue’s pulse, thrumming beneath his skin as he whispers Sting’s name.

Sting knows Rogue’s holding back – he’s trying to hold still, instead letting Sting move and figure out what feels good. Sting rocks forward, listening to Rogue’s breathless moans and smiling because he did that. He made Rogue feel good.

“You can move,” Sting says, voice shaky as he brushes his lips along Rogue’s jaw. “It’s okay.”

Rogue shivers, sliding one hand down to Sting’s thigh and very slowly thrusting his hips up. The movement sends sparks through Sting and he curses next to Rogue’s ear.

“Do that again,” he says breathlessly, and Rogue does. Everything is warmth and light, and tiny sparks of pleasure that build and build. Rogue’s face is open, and he keeps making tiny, joyful sounds between whispers of Sting’s name.

“You’re so good,” he whispers, pulling Sting in for a kiss. “You feel so good. I love you so much.”

And then he shifts his hand down between Sting’s legs and waits for a nod before touching Sting’s cock.

“Fuck,” Sting whispers, dropping his forehead to Rogue’s shoulder and shuddering. “Yeah, th-that…” Rogue thrusts upward again, stroking Sting with one hand while caressing his hip with the other.

Rogue moans and pants and kisses beneath Sting’s ear, and when he whispers, “Let go, my love,” Sting does.

The sensation is overwhelming, starting from where Rogue’s touching him and flooding outward until he’s shaking. Everything feels warm and his cheeks are flushed, and a wave of dizziness washes over him as Rogue moans his name.

Sting doesn’t realize he’s crying until Rogue pulls him close, rolling them both onto their sides and kissing Sting’s cheeks. “It’s okay,” Rogue says as he wipes away the tears. “You’re safe. What’s wrong?”

“I…” Sting can’t speak, still trembling and not quite able to breathe. Rogue takes Sting’s hand and places it on his chest, then takes a few deep breaths for Sting to follow. Eventually the shaking subsides and Sting’s left feeling warm and exhausted.

“Did I hurt you?” Rogue asks, concerned.

“No,” Sting says quickly. “No, it felt… that…” Heat rushes to his cheeks and he stares down at their joined hands. “I’ve never…”

“Never what?” Rogue asks gently.

“Never…” Sting gestures vaguely between them, refusing to look Rogue in the eye.

“Wait,” Rogue says suddenly. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

Sting shakes his head, willing the red to disappear from his cheeks as he presses his forehead to Rogue’s chest. “I didn’t… I never touched myself, I hated all of it, and then Ryan didn’t care, ever, and I thought…” He exhales. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Rogue makes a sad sound and pulls Sting close, kissing the top of his head and wrapping an arm around him. “It’s supposed to feel good,” he says, voice muffled by Sting’s hair as they cuddle in the afternoon sun. “And I promise it always will.”

[aslightstep]

Roulette

enjoy this fic that will not stop bothering me. Steve/Tony, MCU, post-CACW. warnings (please pay attention to these) for alcoholism, victim blaming, and both Howard and Maria Stark’s A+ parenting. (by that I mean they are both bad at it, but in their own ways, but Tony’s canon view of his mother is still kept intact and explained.)

It becomes almost a game between us at some point, I’m not sure when. Tony calls it the ‘Trauma Olympics.’ I call it ‘talking about your feelings.’ 

We agree to disagree. We’re good at that.

We meet on the couch in the common room or in the workshop, always in the moment right after the dead of night when neither of us can sleep. The first time we did this, before it was a habit, before it became a therapy that didn’t feel like flaying my brain open, it was an attack on his part, practically begging me to lay out a sob story just so he could tear it to pieces.

(’I’m so sick of your excuses.’)

I don’t need a story. I’ve lived, and sometimes that seems like tragedy enough.

But it was more than Tony had spoken to me in months, so I rise to the bait. Flung down the gauntlet. I start with the most recent wound - him. 

(’You abandoned me.’)

He’s the one to back down that night, and I feel anything but proud. 

He’s also the one that keeps coming back. Anger burns bright in him, but I’d rather have this than the nothing I’ve had for months. He lets me talk, and even when he bites back, at least he’s listening.

I tell him about the horrible things, the dark things. I tell him about the smell of rotting corpses - he counters with the smell of burning flesh. I tell him about the quiet of ice and he sneers ‘remember when you almost closed me up in space?’

I tell him about the pain of letting a friend slip through your fingers and he - goes quiet. Sympathizes. Tells me that he agrees. There is nothing worse.

It becomes a thing after that - a game, if you’re Tony. Healing, maybe, for me. He volunteers, once or twice, starts the game himself. I come up, more than once, and it’s hard to listen to, especially the things I wasn’t around for, the impressions Howard left, but we have an unspoken rule now that we don’t interrupt. These are our terrible things. No one else gets an opinion.

He holds my hand one night when I talk about the four times I’ve lost Bucky. (’Isn’t it supposed to get easier?’). He tells me he’s sorry another night, the night when Bucky Barnes is his tale of woe. (’Thanks. For stopping me.’)

He tells me that we all could have done better, and we didn’t.

But the worst things Tony tells me aren’t about Bucky, or Afghanistan, or the wormhole, or Stane, or the civil war. Or me. The worst things, in the grand scheme of his life, almost seem tiny in comparison but for the lasting effects they have on the man. But they stick with me, for days, weeks, months, years from now when Tony and I will be happy again. I will still look over to him, long after the other hurts have faded, and remember these two small things, and pull him close to me to hold him tight.

(’Why are you such a sap?’)

The two worst things Tony tells me are about his parents.

One goes like this: 

We are in the workshop, and he is angry because I’ve implied something that I shouldn’t have.

“Howard never hit me,” Tony snaps, white with fury, and I back off, subject dropped, because I’ve made a mistake.

Then. Quieter. 

“He didn’t have to.” Calmly, calm, too calm. 

It rolls around in my head for hours after words as I think sticks and stones may break my bones, but words...

But words.

The other goes like this:

We are on the couch, and Tony is drunk, because none of us but Rhodes are the kind of friends who can caution Tony about his drinking anymore and the War Machine is out on a mission.

“I got it from my mom,” he slurs, apropos of nothing until he glares blearily at me. “It’s my turn to share, right?” I nod hesitantly, because we’ve talked about everything but Maria Stark. Tony’s mother is sacred, secret. 

“Well, then, I’m adding to my Trauma Tetris,” he goes on. “The drinking. I didn’t get it from Howard. Got it from my mama.” He laughs. He sobs. I can’t tell the difference. I can’t even speak.

“See, my dad liked his booze but he was too busy too...driven to really dive into alcoholism.” And I’ve seen Howard in his later years, read reports, saw how neatly they matched to Tony’s own behavior before Afghanistan and occasionally after, and I wonder if this is a lie Tony made up about his father as a young man merely so it would be perfect when he told it to himself years later. “Or maybe - maybe he just learned better, watching her. Because she. Loved. Liquor.” He emphasizes each word with a sharp rap of his knuckles against his tumbler.

“And looking back now, I can see so many times where Dad tried to help her, or Jarvis. But see, when I was little? I didn’t want her to stop.” Tony suddenly seems very sober, staring down at his drink. “I would bring her drinks in the afternoon. Got my first sip from her.

“I didn’t understand addiction. Or the damage it was doing. Or what ‘enabling’ meant. All I knew was that when she had a glass in her hand, my mother smiled and laughed and was the life of the party. When she was drunk,” he inhales shakily. “Mom loved me. When she was sober, she hated everything. I didn’t know. I didn’t know it took time. I thought if she stayed that way, she’d hate me forever.”

Somehow I manage to make my mouth move. “You were just a kid, Tony.”

Tony snorts. “I sneaked bourbon into her drinks at dinner because Jarvis thought I didn’t know where the bottle was. The cooking sherry, the wine bottles guests left as gifts. Jarvis and dad thought it was all her, but it was me. Because I wanted to help.”

“Tony,” I say firmly. I wait until he looks at me. “You were just a kid. You didn’t know any better.” 

“I started keeping bottles for myself,” he whispers. “When I was thirteen, me and Tiberius Stone racked up a pair of DUIs. Mom cried so hard when she and Dad came to pick me up, and every time I apologized, she just cried harder. She told me it was all her fault one night, sick, shaking, fuck she was already going through withdrawal. I didn’t understand. It was my choice.” He looks down at the glass in his hand. “It was my choice to do that to myself.”

“She got sober?” I ask hopefully, wondering if the brave, brilliant woman Tony so admired and adored ever really existed.

“She tried her best. She slipped a couple of times before...the accident. Always started over. I still have every one of her AA chips. She was so dedicated. ‘Making up lost time,’ she said. She tried so hard for us. I went to school. And without me around-”

“Tony-”

“She got better. She didn’t have to be drunk to smile or be happy. And she still loved me just the same, even though if she was sitting here with us right now, she would tell you - I was her trauma. I ruined her life.”

“Tony, you just said it yourself. It was her choice to do that to yourself. Maria loved you, and you loved her. You were family. You forgave her, didn’t you?”

“Of course.” Tony seems offended I even asked. “There was nothing to forgive.”

“Why would you think she wouldn’t do the same?” I continue quietly. Tony gapes at me, thunderstruck by such a simple question, turning the question this way and that in his mind. This is the thing that Tony has never understood: that anyone could ever forgive him. That anyone could feel the same way about him as he does them. The only exception, as near as I can tell, has been Maria Stark.

I can see it the moment hope blooms in him. Carefully, I take the glass from him, and he lets me.

Tony calls the Trauma Olympics an ‘unprecedented draw,’ but we still meet up and talk. Slowly it spreads, to the day, to the evening, to our entire lives.

I steer Tony away from bars and he steers me away from the cliff I’ve been threatening to jump off of for almost ten years. We hang on to each other instead.

Years later, Tony will be playing with his own AA chip, and I will feel the old urge those memories always stir in me and pull him close. I will wrap my hand around his and we will hold the chip together.

“You know why I told you that?” he will say out of nowhere, and I will hum noncommittally. “Because I was hoping you would say exactly what you did.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to believe someone else,” I will agree, thinking of all the times he has sat me down and showed me that I had done the best I could. Or, even better, when he showed me the places I could do better next time.

There will always be a next time with Tony. I intend to see from now on that those times are only good.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Wisdom and War: An Athena Cykes Mix

Art given to me by the amazing @diloolie​

And charge in head on/ I will be your shield/Go ahead and release the goddess inside you!/(In every star, in ever moon, in every vena, there lives Athena)

A mix for Athena Cykes, a revolutionary girl who outshines the moon.

1. ATHENA| CircusP + CrusherP//2. They Know My Name| Big Little Lions//3. Goodnight Little Robot Child| Princess Chelsea//4. Little Me| Little Mix//5. Yellow Halo| Goldfrapp//6. Hope on Fire|Vienna Teng//7. Akatsuki no Hana (Flower of the Dawn) English Cover|Saki//8. Bravado (Cover)| Rebecca Brady//9. Me Against the World| Superchick//10.Give a Reason| Megumi Hayashibara//11.Dakara Hitori Ja Nai (That’s Why I’m Not Alone) English Cover| Amanda Lee//12. One Girl Revolution| Superchick//13. See Me Now| Little Mix//14. Odd Future (English Cover)| Amanda Lee//15. Everything at Once| Lenka//16. The Prayer (Cover)|K.T. Tunstall//17. Peace Sign (English Cover)| Jubyphonic//18. Voice of the Heart| Diana Ross//19. I’m a Believer (English Cover)| Amanda Lee//20. Young Volcanoes (Cover)|Tiffany Alvord//21. Sora Ni Utaeba (If I Could Sing in the Sky) (English Cover)| Amanda Lee//22. Sunadokei (Hourglass)| Megumi Hayashibara//23. Courtoom Revolutionaire (Vocal Version)| Adriana Figueroa

Play on Playmoss

Play on 8tracks

Finishing replaying Dual Destinies and getting some amazing art from diloolie inspired me to finally make an Athena mix! I may have gotten...a bit carried away. Can u believe I was worried about not finding enough songs...ANYWAY. Even if you don’t know Ace Attorney, this makes for a great kick-butt mix to get you motivated (save for a couple subdued sad songs at the beginning).It’s a mix that pretty much screams “LET’S DO THIS!” as Athena would say.

Lyrics, annotations and translations under the cut!

Athena- PRETTY SELF EXPLANATORY. I was so pumped to discover this song at the last minute. I was actually alerted to it thanks to a sweet Athena amv that came up in my youtube suggestions- check it. 

The moment is right/So don't wait/Get ready to fight/When I say/Break free of the chains/That hold you back/React. And plan your attack

Brace yourself and run into the battlefield/Move on/Don't falter/Plan your pursuit/And charge on and head on I will be your shield /Go on/Release the goddess inside you In every star/In every moon /In every vena/There lives Athena

They Know My Name- a song for Athena’s trauma and PTSD. It also fits for how she can get overwhelmed hearing everyone’s emotions.

Her panic attacks being highly visible- can also refer to how Widget tends to recite her thoughts:

All of my noise in the air/My thoughts can be seen from everywhere

Panic attacks, PTSD:

These wars that I fight from within/I don't know where they end and I begin I try/ I try to calm them down/But these thoughts they keep spinning/Round and round, round and round/These monsters are hiding within my brain/They roar and they shout and they know my name

Goodnight Little Robot Child- Young Athena, living in the space center among robots, unable to tell the difference between them and humans

Goodnight little robot child/Close your eyes go to sleep tight/ little robot child/Starmans waiting for/You've been running around with your robot friends/And your battery's feeling so low

Little Me- Athena looking back on her younger self. "I was a shaking and scared little girl, small and ineffectual.... Even after I went to live with my relatives in Europe, I stayed closed up in my shell. “

Voice so quiet you don't hear a word/Always talking but she can't be heard/You can see it there if you catch her eye/I know she's brave but it's trapped inside/Scared to talk but she don't know why

Wish I knew back then/What I know now/Wish I could somehow Go back in time and maybe listen to my own advice/I'd tell her to speak up, tell her to shout out/Talk a bit louder, be a bit prouder

Yellow Halo- Athena dealing with the death of her mother. I consider this to be from Metis’s POV in a way. This song is actually about dealing with the loss of a mother, so it fits really well.

Metis dying:

I rose to the moon, Wearing all white

Metis wears a “yellow halo” now, and those colors are  passed on to Athena Athena wears yellow, shining brightly and kindly:

Yellow halo/all your colors/yellow halo/for a queen/yellow halo/bequeathed

Metis lives on through Athena, who carries on her legacy, wearing the moon earring her mother made for her and bringing hope to everyone:

Seasons change/the moon’s still here/dawn breaks endlessly

Hope on Fire: Athena making her vow to be heard and to save Simon, no matter what the cost (yes i know i use this song a lot in mixes, IT’S A GREAT SONG OKAY) “That’s because one day, I came to realize that I had to fight. I couldn’t give up"

gotta fight gotta strike/'cause there's no turning away/from what you don't want to know/

ooh you're gonna make your mark this time/ooh you're gonna set your hope on fire/gotta leave gotta bleed/you've gotta stop lying still/'cause this is no kind of life

we're coming closer now to the truth

Akatsuki no Hana: "I couldn’t give up. I exercised hard and I studied hard. I wanted to become the strongest lawyer I could be.”

I’ll tear the doubt out of my mind/because with the strength inside me/I’ll leave the girl I was behind

Breaking through to the sky with the strength to survive/feel the dawn break through toy your heart/Chasing the skies, I’ll find a brighter day/Tear through the lies/I’m who I wanna be/you won’t take my courage away

Bravado: “What was Athena like as a child? ”She didn’t talk very much” “That’s completely different from the Athena we know now!” "I was so surprised! She was like a completely different person, so cheerful and happy!”

All my life, I've been fighting a war/I can't talk to you or your friends/It's not only you/My heart jumps around when I'm alluded to/This will not do

But when you're withdrawn, it's the closest thing to assault when all eyes are on you/This will not do/I'm faking glory/Lick my lips, toss my hair/And turn the smile on/And the story's brand new/But I can take it from here/I'll find my own bravado

Me Against the World- Athena refusing to give up on Simon even as he’s all obstinate and ready to change the courtroom

okay, with this line how could I resist:

Simon says to pack it up

Even the LA references work if you consider Japanifornia (though honestly I can never think of AA as actually taking place in LA...just a weird alternate Japan where everyone has english names. BUT I DIGRESS)

They said don't try to change the world/You're just a girl/So it's me against the world today/I'm gonna do it my own way/And though nobody understands/I'm gonna make a one girl stand

Give a Reason- full translation here.  Lyrics also in the playmoss vid. Very fitting for Athena, who charges ahead and looks for answers

There's an "answer" somewhere for sure /The answer for why we were born/.../I'm not afraid of getting hurt!/But I'm not strong in any way for feeling that /Simply, I just can’t do nothing/I don't wanna be regretting myself! /Here we go! go! I'll keep running /I won't be stopped by anybody!

Dakara: My Hero Academia and Athena go together so well.

 “I didn’t have anybody to support me at first, either. I couldn’t face the fear inside me, couldn’t get over the trauma of my past. “ 

“ It sure feels nice to be part of a great group like this! I just want to say I really love working here with all you fabulous people!”   

How come I am the only one to always face a hurricane?/Back then I used to think it all so meaningless (was so alone)/But everything began to change

Again we’re crying but trying/To prove we can overcome it/I know that we’ll rise above it each and every time/(Everything will be fine!)/I’ll reach for your hand,Yeah, my friend,You are not alone this time

One Girl Revolution- The courtroom Revolutionaire! “Let’s revolutionize this stodgy institution!”

And I'll be everything that I want to be/I am confidence in insecurity/I am a voice yet waiting to be heard/I'll shoot the shot /Bang/That you hear round the world/And I'm a one girl revolution

See Me Now- “ Then that’s a win for me– No, a win for analytical psychology! “

That I've been hesitating so long, so long/Somebody turn out the light./Cause right now must be my time to shine/They said I couldn't, they told me that I wouldn't/But if they could see me now/They'd see I'm something, that I'm not scared of nothing/And the world will hear me shout

Odd Future

You love the contradiction shaking you/even when you fall take one step/you can breath again in one step/.../shaking off the rust in your soul/gotta rise from a dark history/.../but today I opened up my eyes and I feel alive

Everything at Once- In the DLC, Athena said she wanted to be strong enough to fight a whale, and suddenly I realized this was perfect for her. She dreams big and wants to be everything and I love her.

As pretty as a picture hanging from a fixture/Strong like a family, strong as I wanna be/Bright as day, as light as play/As hard as nails, as grand as a whale/All I wanna be, all I wanna be, oh/All I wanna be is everything

The Prayer- “Why do you turn everything into a competition?” Athena’s go getter competitiveness is everything.

Let me outshine the moon/Is it so wrong to crave recognition?/Second best, runner-up/Is it so wrong to want rewarding?/To want more than is given to you?

Tonight make me unstoppable/And I will charm, I will slice/I will dazzle them with my wit

Peace sign- “She flashed a peace sign at me. “Congratulations on your acquittal,” she said. [...]But I saw her eyes. They were red and swollen from crying. She’s gotta be suffering! She must be so worried! And yet she went out of her way to be nice and give me that big smile!”

Although your eyes are red, you’ll never cry again/ no I’ll be the smile that you need and I won’t go/Theme to be a hero, just remember to sing/Say goodbye and I’ll leave with a peace sign

Voice of the heart- “Let me hear the voice of you heart!”

If you listen long enough/If you dream it strong enough/A door inside will open/And a light will flood the dark/Like a song too long unsung/Or a soul forever young/We all will find an answer/In the voice of the heart

I’m a Believer- Athena charging ahead with people cheering her on ‘"It’s not over yet, Thena. Even now at this very moment, I still believe in you! I know you better than most people, Thena. And I know you’d never surrender to the dark age of the law ”

It’s not easy to keep going – motivation’s running thin/I know my dream’s unrealistic … No, I don’t need reminding/In these moments, under pressure, when you feel it closing in/You’re the one - be the one to believe in

I keep searching for an answer/But I can’t keep it together Does anybody know what path I should take?/I won’t hesitate/Because this dream that I’ll create, it cannot be misguided/By simple regret, and thoughts of “what if”/So, I’ll take my next step, but if you were to cheer me on,I’d soar beyond that boundary

Young Volcanoes- “Well, nobody's going to try harder than me! So you'd better watch out, Apollo! Simon is free, thanks to Mr. Wright... ...but there are so many more people out there who need our help!”

Tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds/It's all over now/Before it has begun/We've already won/We are wild/We are like young volcanoes

Sora ni- Look, Athena and MHA just really go well together. I was always telling you guys sh’s part shonen hero part magical girl. 

“Well, I knew that if I didn’t get your sentence overturned fast, you’d be executed! So I studied and studied. I was frantic! I’m so glad I made it in time! ………… Just barely… but I still made it! “ 

Every time you cry/Make it so It only makes you stronger/Cut straight through the illusion/And soar from the confusion/To a Blue-Sky Revolution/Can't forsake the future when it's this bright/So give the fight/All your might

Sunadokei: translation here. “Thatta girl, Athena. It’s good to see you finally let your tears out. “

I just continue on living /Questioning its meaning... /A correct answer just doesn't exist /So I just raise my head and keep walking

Resignation without restraint, memories/If you regret it and cry, that is fine /But even so, the tomorrow that is created will /Overflow with merciless love/.../Turn those broken tears into strength

Courtroom revolutionaire- obviously.

[trippz2ill2ace8itout]

⭐🥀TRIGGER WARNING!!

Introducing Last Night At 3AM. I Lost Control. Yet Another Breakdown, I Had about 30 breakdowns. No pity sympathy or attention. && NO I WAS NOT ON DRUGS! I'm over 1 year sober. Alvaro took over (one of my demons/alters) && Dancing Fire (another one) possessed me to the point I almost got a cop call. I don't wanna be a burden &: I wanna save fix care support be there for everyone and everything. I'm sick of being alive. But I can't do anything stupid cuz of me getting concerved to a state institution (which is way different than a mental hospital) cuz I've been in 215 mental hospitals & got diagnosed Critically/Clinically Insane plus over 10+ mental hospitals. All I have is my mom. The breakdowns the vivid flashbacks the mental illnesses getting 10x worse. No treatment will take me cuz I've been to all of them to many times. I can't process anything. My mind imprisons me. I dissociate 89 to 99% of the day. I've been thru every single sorts of treatments/medication I've had trauma 24/7 from 2001-2018. I'm losing my mind. And everyday it's the same thing and people get tired of hearing it.I'm so done with dealing with this everyday. I don't need sympathy. I just don't know man. My mom&& lil brother doesn't want me home, I can't explain what's wrong or going on. I don't wanna be a burden. I'm sorry man. I wanted to self harm again but I didn't. Imagine all my mental illnesses multiplied by 10. Imagine EVERYDAY HAVING VIVID FLASHBACKS AND 22+ Mental Breakdowns a day. I.am sorry if I'm negative. I'm sorry. I just wanna save and fix the world. When people ask me "how are u" idk how much reply. I'm sick of my mind. I feel like darkness is controlling me. I pray A LOT. Alvaro literally possesses me and gets in my body. I have mostly every mental health diagnosis there is. And NO I'M NOT PROUD OF IT I'M NOT BRAGGING OR GLORIFYING It. I just wanna help everyone and everything. Along the my mental health, I have autism, narcolepsy anorexia Etc. My diagnosis list is so long and I don't wanna be known for that. I can't even leave my house. When ever I feel a lil bit better, here comes Alvaro. But again I don't wanna be a burden. It's my job to be there for everyone else NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. I can't take this anymore. No pity sympathy or attention. I can't seek help cuz then they'll send me to a institution cuz I've been in to many mental hospitals. I'm doing the best I can. But I'm about to snap. I can't function. And I'm getting worse. I don't want attention I want to be OK. I've dealt with all this hell most of my life. It's hard to explain. On top of that. My physical state is getting worse. I'm finding more reasons to die than to live. I'm over 1 year sober. I'm a huge hypocrite when it comes out taking my own advice. I don't love myself. But i am over caring sensitive and I help obsessively. I repeat myself idk I'm just not OK. I'm losing contact with reality. I'm scared to keep going. But I got this.🥀⭐

🥀⭐Your Enough

Your Worth It.

Your Life Has Purpose

This To Shall Pass

Im here for all y'all in anyway I possibly can.

I'm sorry if I'm annoying. I'm sorry

Stay Strong && Keep Breathing ⭐🥀

🌙🌙🔥🔥🖤🖤🥀🥀HUGE TRIGGER WARNING🥀🥀🖤🖤🔥🔥🌙🌙

🥀🥀🔥🔥Hey my name is Izzy && I'm a recovering drug addict && alcoholic with over 1 year sober. This is the longest I've been sober being out of treatment. I've used mostly every drug there is. Being homeless 13 times. In 215 mental hospitals. In 3 foster homes (2 out of 3 were abusive) group homes, unlocked and locked treatment centers, rehabs shelters, crisis centers. Short and long term treatment centers. Which none will take me back cuz I've been there to many times. I've sold myself && got tortured abused raped drugged up for drugs and money to raise my unbio son, Anthony. I lost custody cuz of false accusations. I've had multiple near death experiences (some were suicide attempts && some were naturally done) my drug of choice was meth. I've had trauma 24/7 from 2001-2018, over 10+ mental illnesses. Some were caused from a few bad trips on PCP that I never came back from. I was sleeping anywhere I could rest my head, I had to be alert at all times. Tbh I havent been to a meeting in awhile. My sponsor is like family to me. I'm redoing all my steps. I'm on step 2. I've lost a shit ton of people to drugs and I was literally getting cop calls everyday. Drugs messed with my life. And having this much clean time is amazing. Most of my life I've gotten abused raped, literally tortured and drugged up. Sold. Prostituted, almost killed. But no pity sympathy or attention pls. Any clean time is good time. And I'm proud of all of you in recovery drug addiction is a special kinda hell. Drugs become your priority and your best friend. I got tortured on the daily by people coming in one by one torturing me from orders from Kimberly (my ex fiance who hung herself in front of me) it was one by one. I got so caught on in drugs that it was the only way I knew. I used to numb the pain. I'm so blessed I found God again. Now I have 22+ mental breakdowns a day every day. I found out it had a lot to do with my drug use.🔥🔥🥀🥀

🥀🖤Thank you for breathing even when u wanted to die. Drugs kill you. There's nothing about it to be proud of its serious. You Matter Yo Important Yo A Someone Yo Enough Yo Worth It Yo Have A Purpose, Yo Have A Story, A Message, A Voice, A Reason, Yo A Warrior, A Soldier, A Survivor, A Fighter. You Are U && NoOne Can Be You, But YOU. Your Life Matters YOU MATTER, Yo Life Has Value &% I'm Glad Your Alive. Thank U For Being Alive. People say that I help everyone and everything obsessively && I don't stop. It's very true. This is a shout out to my unbio son that I raised as my own, Anthony Castillo-Martinez, I met him at one of the many abusive foster homes. Where it was owned illegally by Andrea/Angela && Jimmy Miller. We got tortured daily. They were not licensed foster parents. I met Lil Toni there and I escaped with him to meet up with Kimberly. We lived in a run down hotel in LA. I became homeless again. Toni got me through so much and even tho I can't find him (he's been gone for years) your my lil baby. I will always love u. U are my world and one day I hope to see u again. I hope you have a good home now. Going to school. Just doing well in general. And I'm sorry for you witnessing what Kimberly was doing to me. I love u babes with all my heart. 🖤🥀

🖤🔥🥀I failed Cedar House twice. This was a rehab in San Bernardino, California. I lied my way out. And I regret it. Funny thing is I already read the entire NA Basic Text && The AA Big Book. I have multiple sobriety apps on my phone and I have an app that that has NA && AA Speakers on it. I'm reading the How && Why and I'm so proud of myself && I couldn't have got this far without my sponsor, Jaclyn. She understands me better than any sponsor I've had in recovery. Here's a list of my mental disorders, some were caused Or made worse by drugs and alcohol🥀🔥🖤

🌙🔥🔥Schizo-Affective, Bipolar

ADHD, OLD, ODD,

PTSD, Insomnia

Depression, Anorexia

Anxiety, Autism

Borderline Personality Disorder

Severe Brain Damage

Attachment Disorder

Dissociative Identity Fund..

Multiple Personality Disorder

Narcolepsy, Critically/Clinically Insane🔥🔥🌙

🖤🥀Listen I don't need your pity, sympathy or attention these were all diagnosed by over 5 psychiatrists, and diagnosed "Insane" by over 10 doctors. DO NOT SELF DIAGNOSE!!!! Anyways. I attempted suicide over 100 times. Self harmed in anyway possible. They say I'm the most high maintenance case in the system of California. And the next time I go to a mental hospital I'm getting sent to a state institution. I would do anything to get drugs. Jeremy && Izzie Baraz were my street partners. They both passed away. All I have left in blood family is my mom and brother. My mom. Says if I pick up drugs one more time I'm never aloud back in her house. My dad injected me with meth and heroin at age 9, he also tortured me daily. He passed away in 2011. I'm glad he's dead. But I take full responsibility for my drug and alcohol habits. And I hope I never go back. One Day At A Time.🥀🖤

🔥🥀This To Shall Pass, If Not Today There's Always Tomorrow

God, Grant Me The Serenity

To Accept The Things I Cannot Change

The Courage To Change The Things I Can. &&

The Wisdom To Know The Difference

Amen🥀🔥

🔥🔥Keep Coming Back It Works If You Work It🔥🔥

🔥🔥A Moment Of Silence, For The Addict Who Still

Suffers, In And Out Of These Rooms🔥🔥

🔥🔥Staying Clean, Im Never Going Back🔥🔥

🥀🖤I almost relapsed again on New Year's. I almost asked a stranger to buy me Vodka. But God told me to stop.

I'm Always Here 4 All Of You, No matter What.

I'd Do Anything To Keep Y'all Alive && Breathing. To Make U OK. to Save && Fix U && Take Your Pain Away. I Love Y'all. Keep Coming Back.🖤🥀

[taonsil]

I cant imagine anyone would, but anyway please no reblog ! this is just all personal junk

aa so..I just wanted to ramble a bit about my 4am breakdown tag post some more. though it was a really bad night, I think reaching that point will in the long run have been a good thing n I'm just trying to figure it all out so I can learn from it the best I can. It was just several years worth of stuff finally reaching a peak. I got into exo around debut time, but pretty casually. it wasn't until wolf era that I decided to be 100% fulltime dedicated, and it came around because I'd been struggling so much with my gender ID and being ace. I was having a lot of suicidal thoughts and basically tao turned up that one day with his leopard print shawl on and changed everything. everything seemed like it was going to be fine. he was so distant then, and he was just perfect and strong and wonderful and I got a leopard print phonecase and had my hair buzzed like his (and coincidentally I had a whole summer of amazing ace discussions with a friend due to tao ships, so that helped with that a lot). I was so so excited and motivated every single day, buying new clothes and new products because tao had made me confident in choosing a path

in 2013 my long-term plan was to use all of this happiness to transition, to get started in the career I wanted, to reach out and help other queer kids, to study hard, to get the therapy/treatment I needed for my anxiety/agoraphobia and then who knows !! maybe move out, travel to see my friends. I was doing a lot of art that involved customising and selling and hoped to go places with that. 2014 was the best year of my whole life

tao leaving, really it just coincided with work getting worse (n also with that meaning we couldn’t travel any more to see our friends or have breaks away at all). I'm always vague on the details of this but it involves being very close to someone who's mentally and emotionally abused me and another family member into therapy before, but..needs must and all. I can’t be out around them at all. it's always been hard and it just happened to start getting a lot worse at the same time. losing sutao was so hard for me, I'd never had a relationship like theirs in my life and it made me happy every single day. I really went out of my mind waiting for news on whether he was coming back (at the time we didn't even know if he'd continue to work at all :s). when he did..it was a loss and a gain, because seeing him in a new light was strange. he went from my hero to someone I wanted to protect and defend. he's genderfluid and nd and aro and instead of looking up to him as an inspiration he just felt close and I could see so many of my bad traits in him but they were good on him, and I got so stressed and anxious every single time he dug himself into deeper holes or I thought the traits I perceived in him were going to be disproved. the two years since he left I was pretty unwell, I lost a lot of time, I wanted to die again because everything was so bad and he was all I had and it was too overwhelming at times. I never wanted to talk about it because I didn't want to be That Crazy Fan, or for my ideas to be dismissed bc of it, or for it to reflect badly on him either. some of the arguments that started cropping up in fandom brought up long buried trauma and made me analyse it way more than I'd ever wanted to. I just gave up on myself. I don't remember a lot of it. breaking away from it at the start of this year was really, really hard, but once I had it was like I'd just woken up after two years and realised I'd done nothing towards the plans I'd made when I was 23

-not to mention that I had no idea I was autistic(+ whatever else. I cant even make one appointment to look into the other possibilities bc of work lmao) until last year. I've always been diagnosed with anxiety, told to grow up, told I'm special and sweet, promised that one day with the right help I'd be fine. college was really bad and I isolated myself after it ended, and then I had to start working with family anyway, so for years it just worked out ok that I only ever went places with family and that they'd speak for me. and again, the two years lost to wherever I was with tao I just didn't think about it, until I was told it's this. and that this is just how I am, and that I'll always mentally be 12 at worst 16 at best and unable to go a day by myself without An Adult helping me out, and I'll probably never be able to like something in moderation and I'll probably never even be able to order a drink for myself let alone try and start helping charities or being involved in communities how I'd wanted

all of this + the endless problems with work, being put down every day and given all these ridiculous thankless extra hours/days, coming out of that weird tao brain fog..I realised I wasted most of my 20s without achieving any of the things I'd set out to, and with obstacles that meant I probably never would, and it made me feel really pointless. at the start of the year I'd made a lot of creative plans, but the stress of everything just knocked it all out of me. I felt bitter and upset towards all of the subjects that motivated me to be creative, and through my writing and art I’ve always tried to help and cheer up other people, but I couldn’t even enjoy it myself. I've had writers block for so long, I hate it. last week was a weird mix of receiving a lot of lovely messages about being helpful and nice etc and feeling guilty over not being uplifted by it, extra days/hours with no thanks, being hit and called stupid..I just felt like everything was over. I'd lost everything that made me feel good about being myself, I had no outlets, I'd failed at all of the goals I'd set myself. I miss tao so much but worry I'll end up in a bad way again if I go back to him full time. I keep thinking over all the ridiculous things I said in college just because I’m me and realising why no one liked me and feeling bitter over again that no one diagnosed me sooner. and trying to continue on like this knowing it's not in my power to improve most of it made me feel how I did last night, like it was just the end. but;; I think getting all of that pain and upset out and realising it was because of a lot of things, not just a bad week/month really helped.

dndhj I dont rly feel refreshed yet I just feel like a slug from crying so much. but I did see a lot of sense in the articles I was reading about what to do after having a moment like that n rebuilding things and setting new goals seems good. worrying less about my follow count and if people will think badly of me and just posting silly happy meta feels like a good way to reconnect with the things I closed off from. there's nothing I can do about work and how that is, but liking myself more again will probably help me care less OK. ok. OTL

[leahgolubchick]

On Weightloss and  Selfcare

In the last three days I have read Roxane Gay’s Hunger, seen various takes on the Huff Po obesity article (both very for and very against and nothing I completely agree with), and saw Weight Watchers is rebranding by dropping “weight” from its name, with early backlash already at work. I also spent two days at a writing retreat focused on trauma informed practice. So I’m feeling reflective and there’s a lot of weight-related stuff going on in my head.

A bunch of friend have noticed that over the last year and half I lost some weight. Many people my age don’t know how to bring it up politely because there isn’t a good script for that and we’ve been trained to never bring up people’s weight unless you’re about to lift them. Even then, probably don’t. Women of over 45 have shouted at me from across the room. Generation gaps, vive le difference.

Two years ago, I was unhappy. In 2016 my work place exploded with a sexual assault case that was featured in Scientific American. In retrospect, that case prepared me and a lot of my coworkers directly for the #metoo and #believesurviors movements right now. But in 2016 it was a lonely, scary time. There was palpable fear in my workplace, resentment, defensiveness, and what I’d later understand was behavior fueled by retraumatization across the board, especially in Leadership. People were leaving, angrily. People were lashing out. And because when you look for elephants you find them, we were improvising the role of social worker when students came forward needing help from sexual harassment and assault. We helped them while suffering our own reflective trauma. There were ZERO resources in place for a seismic change in my work culture.

Two years ago, I was unhappy. I was drinking too much. Having a monthly bar event about sex gave me an exciting combination of working through the poison of rape culture AND excuse to drink heavily. Guess where we planned events too? I was overwhelmed and depressed. I wasn’t setting a lot of boundaries about my life because when you feel hopeless and powerless, what’s the point? I’d go out, I’d connect with friends. But I wasn’t caring about myself. I was also 200 pounds.

Two years ago I reached out to some friends who had been going to therapy, I needed help. Help was there. I am grateful that this was my first therapist who focused on the present. Her work was about reshaping thought patterns, about questioning assumptions, about prioritizing selfcare. We used phrases like “parenting yourself” and “more will be revealed.” The first day of therapy she asked me “What do you do for yourself?” I couldn’t think of an answer, and I cried. By the time I left in July of this year, a lot had changed.

Six months into therapy human resources announced an open house of Weight Watchers at work. The program was free, and I had mock-enrolled about a year before (as in, I volunteered to weigh myself every week while refusing to do any part of the program in any form). I was unhappy, and that included my appearance. So I went. At the Open House I heard a lot of the language I was hearing at therapy. “Be gentle with yourself,” “progress not perfection,” this was a chance to take care of you, to do what feels good, to embrace #selfcare. So, I opted in.

I’ve never had to manage my weight in a real way. I’ve always been in a weight range that doctors and strangers don’t feel the need to comment on. My weight had changed when I moved to New Jersey, and I’d brushed with “Calories In Calories Out” (CICO) to try to drop a few pounds. That was a disaster. Turns out untreated anxiety and having to account for every random mouthful of food AND being a people-pleaser meant spiraling out of the range of reason pretty quickly. I remember one point completely unable to tell if I should eat a piece of fruit or a Twinkie because they have the same calories and I only had ”room” for one or the other. So CICO never lasted more than a week. Ultimately the problem resolved itself when we moved to Colombia and the suburbia weight melted away.

I can’t do “intuitive eating.” Maybe one day, maybe I never will. I don’t eat based on intuition. I eat because I like experiencing new things, I like textures, I like spice. I eat because its social and I want people to like me. And frankly, I like sugar, salt, and fat because my stupid monkey brain lights up when I eat them. But I don’t think housing a chocolate bar with a bag of potato chips is the holistic goal.

Joining Weight Watchers, I didn’t focus on my “goal weight”. Thinking about losing 45 pounds was overwhelming, and disheartening. So, learning from a family in recovery, I just focused on today. I didn’t think about every choice I had to make, I just thought about the next choice I had to make. I remember early on telling Sebastian, “Weight Watchers means we have to make some changes. So maybe we do bagels on Saturday and Bahn Minh on Sunday, but not both on one day?” (He agreed and we still do this). And slowly, very, very slowly, my weight changed. But that’s not why stuck with it.

The program, and my group leader, gave me permission to put myself first. Articulating my needs, informing myself in new situations, saying “no” and sticking with it because it was what I wanted was a radical departure internally. I had a vision of myself as a “cool girl,” someone who went with the flow and said yes. I associated “Yes” with adventure. I didn’t see chaos, or if I did I didn’t see it as a destructive force. About a year ago, I gave myself full permission to set boundaries concerning my food.

It is a basic right to decide what goes into my body.

I’m a feminist. I’m a sex-positive radical that hosted monthly sexual health and social science events. I am an educator who works to empower her kids. And it took a year of therapy and six months of Weight Watchers to get that basic-ass idea into my head.

Weight Watchers worked in tandem with therapy with me. It fit into my selfcare, when I followed the plan of fruit, vegetables, lean protein and whole grains, I felt good. Not “clean,” not superior, not “lighter,” I just felt physically better. Nourishing my body, moving my body, listening to my inner clues for what I needed helped me. It helped my mental health, it helped my self-confidence to know I was taking care of myself. And while the basics of how that was working are pretty obvious, I needed structure and reminders to keep me there. Tracking my food and my movement wasn’t a punishment for indulging myself, it was keeping myself in check. And when I didn’t stick to the plan, I still tracked. And some weeks I took a break and didn’t track at all. Some weeks I gained weight, some weeks I plateaued. And you know what? The times I ate high point/high calorie food and enjoyed the shit out of it were worth it. But the weeks where I said, “fuck it,” the days I ate whatever because what was point, or because stress got the better of me, I felt like crap. Not paying attention hurt me, but now I was in a place to notice it. So I kept coming back. And yes, it felt good to have clothes fit me in ways that I liked. It feels good to go shopping.

I’m not unhappy now. I am more peaceful, less reactive, more holistic. I’ve moved on from therapy for now. And I feel more comfortable being honest. I don’t second guess setting my boundaries. And I weigh less. Could I be happy and content and working on me while fat? My weight gain was a symptom of my unhappiness, so it’s hard for me to say. I’m able-bodied, I’ve lived most of my life as thin person, as a white person I don’t have to face the chronic stress people of color face in the US. I’m not arguing that my experience is universal. But it’s my experience for me. Weightloss happened because I made myself happier in a fundamental way.

I’ve had a hard time finding opportunities to talk about my experience. I had a conversation with a brilliant woman I’m friends with who sought treatment for an inflammatory disease though food management. Food as medicine in practice. As a side effect, she lost weight. A college friend accused on social media that her sudden weight loss and love of selfies were signs she was ‘no longer the feminist she knew.’ I haven’t seen a space in my feminist circles to talk about my relationship with food and weight loss that isn’t tied down by cultural baggage. A lot of health and fitness spaces are mixed with toxic diet culture and fat-phobia. I’d expect that. And a lot of the body positive spaces have been explicitly anti-diet talk. I once signed up for a meetup where organizers said you weren’t welcome if you were on a diet. Not talking about a diet, just following one. So I don’t know where to talk about this outside of Weight Watchers meetings, where the choices I’m making and the feelings I have seem right.

I get defensive when I hear people rag on Weight Watchers. The anti-diet movement writes about it as a shibboleth. The CICO fitness world seems to deem it a cheap gimmick to keep sheep hooked. In that way it’s a lot like Alcoholics Anonymous. There are plenty of people who hate it, or it didn’t work for them. But it works for those it works for. And I guess, like AA, I have to make my peace with understanding its not for everyone.

Losing weight isn’t happiness. Denying my body its rights and ignoring my health wasn’t happiness either. Sleep is happiness. Friends are happiness. Nourishing myself and moving is happiness. Understanding I have value is happiness. Being gentle with myself in an ungentle world brings happiness. The rest is a symptom. And I wish we talked more about what’s making people sick than how to get them to consume.

[alexdmorgan30]

Relaxation Techniques for Addiction Recovery that Work

If a recovering alcoholic or drug addict cannot figure out how to relax in their addiction recovery journey then their sobriety is in jeopardy.

In order to overcome cravings and avoid certain types of triggers, you are going to have to maintain some sort of control over your emotional state. This includes knowing when, and how, to force yourself to relax and unwind.

So let me tell you what has worked for me specifically.

There are a few things that have definitely helped me in this regard. The first thing that really helped me was in simply reaching out and connecting with others in recovery. That probably sound painfully obvious, but to someone who is full of anxiety and who is stuck inside of their own head, this can be a really big deal. So what I would urge you to do is to figure out a way to reach out and connect with other people in such a way that it allows you to get some relief from your anxiety.

The problem with this technique is that when the anxiety hits you and everything seems to be spiraling downward, the person suffering from anxiety is not likely to want to reach out for help. That is part of the anxiety–it holds them back from reaching out and making helpful connections.

Therefore, the solution here is to be proactive, and to set up some routines that allow you to catch this sort of anxiety on a daily basis and allow you to fight back. In other words, you need to set up and design your life so that, even if anxiety suddenly sneaks up on you and attempts to trap you and drive you towards relapse, you will have routines and habits in place that will protect you from this outcome.

So what would this look like? Well, it could be as simple as going to an AA or NA meeting every single day of your life. That way you are always less than 24 hours away from another “release valve” of sorts. Of course that assumes that going to meetings really helps you and allows you to face and overcome your anxiety in a direct way, and that going to these meetings actually brings you some relief.

Now you might be saying “wait a minute, I thought we were going to talk about relaxation techniques.” Well, we are. The problem is that if someone tries to tell you to close your eyes and visualize yourself floating on a cloud, how effective is that really going to be if you are full of emotional anxiety and your mind is racing already? Do you happen to be a meditation guru who can instantly find calm and peace amidst the storm? Probably not. And therefore, in order to find this emotional peace we are probably going to have to do some footwork, we are going to have to take action, we are going to have to explore some different techniques.

So when I was in very early recovery I was plugged in to a very intense support system, and I had other recovering addicts and alcoholics who were talking to me and interacting with me on a daily basis. This was by design, though I admit it was not my own design but someone else’s suggestion for me to have all of that social support and interaction. But it worked, and it helped, and I think it is a huge part of getting out of your own head and being able to share your problems and struggles with other people, and also to hear their struggles. It all helps. But if you isolate, if you lack this sort of social interaction and support in early recovery, then you just make it so much harder on yourself.

Now the second thing that I want to talk about in terms of being able to relax is sort of counter intuitive, and that is physical exercise.

I am talking about a serious workout, the kind that leaves you panting to catch your breath and dripping with sweat. I preferred jogging but I have also explored other forms of exercise as well, and I find it all to be helpful.

So you are probably wondering how an intense and physical workout can help a person to relax and calm down.

I see two direct ways in which this happens for me, and they were both a huge revelation for me when I first started exercising. I honestly did not expect any kind of mental or emotional benefits from physical exercise.

So the first thing that I noticed is that, while I was doing an intense workout, the “volume” of all of the drama and turmoil and trauma in my life was greatly reduced. This makes sense when you think about it, because an intense workout is not something that your brain can just ignore while it is happening. An intense workout brings all of your focus–your entire attention–to the physical sensations and challenges that you are facing in the moment. So you cannot really think about the past or worry about the future during a truly intense workout, because you are exerting yourself a great deal and all of your attention is captured in the present moment. You stop “time traveling” in your mind and you just focus on the workout.

Note that if you are casually walking outdoors, while this may be healthy, it does not bring the same level of “emotional cleansing” that I am describing here. For that, you need an intense and vigorous workout.

When you finish such an intense workout, not only will the volume be “turned down” on the anxiety in your life, but you will have a pretty significant dopamine rush from the physical exertion. It is a huge win win in terms of feeling better emotionally.

A second benefit that I noticed when I exercised like this is that I would get into a groove, such as while distance running, and my brain would start to get mentally organized. My mind would drift and it would think about various things while the intensity of the workout was ramping up. So it was as if my mind was getting organized mentally while it was also being “emotionally cleansed.”

After the workout, and usually for the remainder of the day, I would be in a state of recovery. The feeling was one of relief: I had an intense workout, my muscles were now a tiny bit sore and I could tell that I had worked out hard, but it also felt refreshing and somehow calming. And again, you carry those emotional and mental benefits forward with you throughout the rest of the day.

Sometimes I will find myself with a nervous energy in the evening, and I will realize that I did not work out that day. And I will think to myself “hmmm….I should have exercised and burned off some of this nervous energy, I would be more relaxed right now.”

Recently I have also started meditating, and I have seen the power of using seated meditation coupled with very simple visualizations of the breath in order to calm myself. This is very powerful if you give it a chance; the problem is that most people cannot be bothered to give it a chance. If you are open to this simple technique then you will be amazed at how powerful it can be. I am also very impressed with the mental breakthroughs and ideas that I generate while meditating. Give it a try, you will not be disappointed. Good luck!

The post Relaxation Techniques for Addiction Recovery that Work appeared first on Spiritual River Addiction Help.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241841 https://ift.tt/2FqvacL

[jaylazoey]

Relaxation Techniques for Addiction Recovery that Work

If a recovering alcoholic or drug addict cannot figure out how to relax in their addiction recovery journey then their sobriety is in jeopardy.

In order to overcome cravings and avoid certain types of triggers, you are going to have to maintain some sort of control over your emotional state. This includes knowing when, and how, to force yourself to relax and unwind.

So let me tell you what has worked for me specifically.

There are a few things that have definitely helped me in this regard. The first thing that really helped me was in simply reaching out and connecting with others in recovery. That probably sound painfully obvious, but to someone who is full of anxiety and who is stuck inside of their own head, this can be a really big deal. So what I would urge you to do is to figure out a way to reach out and connect with other people in such a way that it allows you to get some relief from your anxiety.

The problem with this technique is that when the anxiety hits you and everything seems to be spiraling downward, the person suffering from anxiety is not likely to want to reach out for help. That is part of the anxiety–it holds them back from reaching out and making helpful connections.

Therefore, the solution here is to be proactive, and to set up some routines that allow you to catch this sort of anxiety on a daily basis and allow you to fight back. In other words, you need to set up and design your life so that, even if anxiety suddenly sneaks up on you and attempts to trap you and drive you towards relapse, you will have routines and habits in place that will protect you from this outcome.

So what would this look like? Well, it could be as simple as going to an AA or NA meeting every single day of your life. That way you are always less than 24 hours away from another “release valve” of sorts. Of course that assumes that going to meetings really helps you and allows you to face and overcome your anxiety in a direct way, and that going to these meetings actually brings you some relief.

Now you might be saying “wait a minute, I thought we were going to talk about relaxation techniques.” Well, we are. The problem is that if someone tries to tell you to close your eyes and visualize yourself floating on a cloud, how effective is that really going to be if you are full of emotional anxiety and your mind is racing already? Do you happen to be a meditation guru who can instantly find calm and peace amidst the storm? Probably not. And therefore, in order to find this emotional peace we are probably going to have to do some footwork, we are going to have to take action, we are going to have to explore some different techniques.

So when I was in very early recovery I was plugged in to a very intense support system, and I had other recovering addicts and alcoholics who were talking to me and interacting with me on a daily basis. This was by design, though I admit it was not my own design but someone else’s suggestion for me to have all of that social support and interaction. But it worked, and it helped, and I think it is a huge part of getting out of your own head and being able to share your problems and struggles with other people, and also to hear their struggles. It all helps. But if you isolate, if you lack this sort of social interaction and support in early recovery, then you just make it so much harder on yourself.

Now the second thing that I want to talk about in terms of being able to relax is sort of counter intuitive, and that is physical exercise.

I am talking about a serious workout, the kind that leaves you panting to catch your breath and dripping with sweat. I preferred jogging but I have also explored other forms of exercise as well, and I find it all to be helpful.

So you are probably wondering how an intense and physical workout can help a person to relax and calm down.

I see two direct ways in which this happens for me, and they were both a huge revelation for me when I first started exercising. I honestly did not expect any kind of mental or emotional benefits from physical exercise.

So the first thing that I noticed is that, while I was doing an intense workout, the “volume” of all of the drama and turmoil and trauma in my life was greatly reduced. This makes sense when you think about it, because an intense workout is not something that your brain can just ignore while it is happening. An intense workout brings all of your focus–your entire attention–to the physical sensations and challenges that you are facing in the moment. So you cannot really think about the past or worry about the future during a truly intense workout, because you are exerting yourself a great deal and all of your attention is captured in the present moment. You stop “time traveling” in your mind and you just focus on the workout.

Note that if you are casually walking outdoors, while this may be healthy, it does not bring the same level of “emotional cleansing” that I am describing here. For that, you need an intense and vigorous workout.

When you finish such an intense workout, not only will the volume be “turned down” on the anxiety in your life, but you will have a pretty significant dopamine rush from the physical exertion. It is a huge win win in terms of feeling better emotionally.

A second benefit that I noticed when I exercised like this is that I would get into a groove, such as while distance running, and my brain would start to get mentally organized. My mind would drift and it would think about various things while the intensity of the workout was ramping up. So it was as if my mind was getting organized mentally while it was also being “emotionally cleansed.”

After the workout, and usually for the remainder of the day, I would be in a state of recovery. The feeling was one of relief: I had an intense workout, my muscles were now a tiny bit sore and I could tell that I had worked out hard, but it also felt refreshing and somehow calming. And again, you carry those emotional and mental benefits forward with you throughout the rest of the day.

Sometimes I will find myself with a nervous energy in the evening, and I will realize that I did not work out that day. And I will think to myself “hmmm….I should have exercised and burned off some of this nervous energy, I would be more relaxed right now.”

Recently I have also started meditating, and I have seen the power of using seated meditation coupled with very simple visualizations of the breath in order to calm myself. This is very powerful if you give it a chance; the problem is that most people cannot be bothered to give it a chance. If you are open to this simple technique then you will be amazed at how powerful it can be. I am also very impressed with the mental breakthroughs and ideas that I generate while meditating. Give it a try, you will not be disappointed. Good luck!

The post Relaxation Techniques for Addiction Recovery that Work appeared first on Spiritual River Addiction Help.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8241844 http://www.spiritualriver.com/addiction-treatment/relaxation-techniques-for-addiction-recovery-that-work/