#the amount of fucking appointments i have to make for myself is insane

[fairyblue-alchemist]

*grits teeth* i am getting such a good grade in being an adult i'm doing such a good job of not wanting to combust, cry, or both

[kickthecan-revolution]

Peach had a spay consult across the street on Friday and barring any issue, I could have gotten her in for her spay a few days later but my vet said the hospital they work with over in Oakland would do same day wellness check and spay so it’s all done. I’m desperate to have this over with and the foster asked me to keep her until she’s through healing from the surgery so I cancelled that Friday consult and went ahead and made the appointment there for Tuesday, only to realize that this fucking APEC conference is here and they are closing one lane of traffic on the Bay bridge. Traffic will be gridlocked everywhere and it won’t help that protestors are planning to block all of the streets so I could be on the bridge with a recovering kitten for hours. I should have just kept the original appt or thought ahead but the way things have been going, I only have energy and focus for one week at a time. So I made a reservation for a hotel close to the Oakland hospital so when I drop her off on Tuesday morning, I’ll go there, work, bring her back there after her appointment and then leave for home around midnight to hopefully avoid the insane traffic though it I’ll still be bad. The price freaked me out, this is all so expensive at this point.

As usual I have no idea what I’m doing and my intuitive coach has bailed on me which I should be used to by now, so I have to figure all of this out by myself. I trust no one to show up when it’s hard, when I am hard. No one sticks. The amount of things I have to figure out on my own makes me want to just not be here anymore.

And it’s just so vile that the city has “cleaned out” all of the homeless people and drug users for this conference but they couldn’t help more with dealing with literally dying people on the street from fentanyl beforehand. And a kindly fuck you to the massive shoplifting and mugging and car theft. I hate living in a place where I feel so unsafe.

Today I’m irrationally pissed at Minnie for being so angry and surly all of the time.

I’m so angry and sad and tired. I’m angry at everything.

Today is hard.

[the-light-finds-its-way]

In case y'all wonder why the fuck Magnus is so obsessed with mac and cheese, it's because I based him off myself, also named Magnus irl, and I am beyond obsessed with mac and cheese. My autism is STRONK!! Same foods/safe foods are my entire life, and mac and cheese is the one thing I can always rely on loving. Cheese as a whole is the only thing which I'm ever willing to try it without any question.

My health is MUCH better these days than it's been for years!!! Being on a high dose steroid has seriously helped with my endless pain and brought it to a very minimal amount in contained areas, as compared to the intense radiating agony throughout every inch of my body forcing me to scream and cry and sleep for 18+ hours nonstop in attempt to just feel nothing at all and escape the hell of my own flesh prison.

I finally got my broken tooth pulled 2 days ago, and I'm basically feeling nothing from it at all. There's no swelling, no bruising, just some general soreness if I open my mouth too wide and that's it. Nothing unbearable whatsoever. :)

On Wednesday or Thursday, I go back for a checkup on my mouth, and also to get MORE blood work done (yaaaaaayyyy...). But this is genuinely incredible. Like you wouldn't even believe the difference I'm feeling right now. My brothers have a gym membership and I asked them to help me see if I could fit that into my limited budget (sadly can't but oh well), because I feel able bodied enough to try and exercise again.

It's been 4 years since I could exercise at all. And I think I'm able to again.

I'm gonna start small, like I did as a kid just beginning to do intensive MMA. I'll do my warmups by stretching, then do some pushups. I won't get to 60 like I used to do. But I'm gonna work for it. I'll do my squats, and my leg lifts. I'll try holding a minute plank. And I'll work my way to the 60 of each of those along with the 60 second plank. And if I can, I'll do the 150 jumping jacks with it all.

That was my MMA warmup twice a week at least for 13 years. 60 pushups, 60 leg lifts, 60 squats, 150 jumping jacks, 5 laps around a room. Then the remainder of the class was for doing MMA itself.

But the most of the workout came from warming up. And damnit I'm gonna get there again. I'll fight for it. I'm close to starting my meds for arthritis. Once we get the blood results, I'll begin. And it's going to be hard. I know. But it'll be ok. :) I feel it in my heart that it's gonna be alright.

So here's from your insanely fucking autistic Titan dad, saying to y'all that it will get better. I didn't think it would. I thought I'd be living in agony forever and die young from the illnesses that ail me. But that's not the case. I'm here. I'm alive. And I am better for it, and better in my body. You can get there, too. I promise. :) <3

Now go make that doctor's appointment you're scared to make. Do it for yourself and your wellbeing. You deserve to live a good life with good things and no pain. And your doctors will help make that happen.

[totallyuseless-ugh]

Across the Campus

Chapter Five: Some Rainy Thoughts To-Go

With each passing day continued fall to approach, announcing itself in the form of colored leaves and grey skies. From the other side of the glass balcony door came an unusual lack of light as dark clouds poured out rain onto the campus. It was far from actual stormy weather. And yet, it did not surprise Darnell in the slightest to see barely anyone spending that morning out on the green. Only a few people were making their way along the slippery stone paths with umbrellas in hand, probably to get to the library or an appointment before classes began.

“I damn hope you don’t plan on going on the balcony in that weather,” Pico warned as he returned from his daily errand run to the kitchen. He gestured at the weather with his mug while handing Darnell the other.

Darnell shook his head as he took hold of his own drink and took a slow sip of it. “Got no reason to catch myself a cold.”

“Good to know we see eye to eye on that. I really don’t feel like missing any classes.”

The two settled on either of their beds, silently watching the rain go on without an end in sight. It was oddly beautiful to have this change in weather and scenery, having the chance to let their eyes rest on the green in front of them without the daily busyness trying to distract. Starting the day this quietly felt like a rare treat to the two friends.

The lack of conversation had Darnell finishing up his drink faster than usual. He put the empty mug aside to get dressed in some warmer clothes. Digging through the back of his closet felt oddly comforting, to finally bring back the clothes Darnell had put away for other, colder days.

“What the fuck,” Pico uttered just as Darnell put on his blue sweater.

“Ey, no need to cuss at me for my outfit. That ain’t cool of you.” He scoffed. It was normal for both to roast each other on their outfits, though it still was a bit too early for Darnell to go along with Pico's comments. But for once, this had not been the intention of the redhead.

“Nah, look!”

Darnell furrowed his brows in confusion as he turned and looked outside onto campus to where Pico was pointing. Completely unbothered by the miserable weather stood CJ by the usual corner, looking up at the balcony as if they were waiting for something to happen.

“That motherfucker-“ Darnell cussed to himself and his expression changed from annoyance to disbelief. He did not hesitate to storm out onto the balcony and yell down at the blonde, “CJ, are you insane?!” He could not hear their response through the amount of background sounds drowning out their voice in the distance.

“Get your ass inside, right now!!” Darnell continued to yell and waved with both of his hands towards himself to make sure the message would get across. And it seemed to have worked, seeing how CJ slouched their shoulders and trotted back down the path towards the dormitory.

Pico watched his friend jump back inside and frantically search through his closet. “The fuck are you now up to?” He asked with a raised brow and a smirk on his lips. The question was more to confirm his thoughts than answer genuine confusion.

“Making sure CJ also doesn’t get a cold!” Darnell answered quickly, either purposely dismissing Pico's teasing or not having heard the laughing tone of the question. With a large towel in hand ran Darnell out of the room to the stairs. Knowing how slow the elevator was, he did not even bother wasting a single second considering it as an option.

Darnell skipped down the steps as fast as he could in a selfmade sense of urgency. And just when he had reached the ground floor came the tall blonde walking in through the front door. All of their clothes were soaking wet and clinging to their skin, they were leaving a trail of small puddles with every step, and the usually neat hairbun had fallen apart into dozens of dark strands hanging from their head like sad curtains.

“You idiot,” Darnell let out an airy laugh as he tried catching his breath. “You got me sprinting down here like a maniac!” He bunched the towel into a ball and threw it at CJ, making them laugh as well.

CJ shrugged and began drying off their hair and face without a care in the world. “Or maybe this was my plan all along. Some exercise surely wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I would hate you so damn much for this, I could kill you.”

CJ snickered at the harmless threat. They put the towel over their shoulders for a bit more warmth as the water slowly began to cool them down. “I wouldn’t do that, don’t worry. I don’t have a deathwish,” CJ explained as they followed Darnell, who was heading back upstairs.

“Well, what genius idea was it then that got you running in the rain?” He asked purely out of curiosity. Darnell was not the type to go out doing sports every day. He already could not relate to sportsy people, let alone anyone who went out jogging during rainy weather.

“I wanted to see you and say good morning. Or, well, greet you. We don’t yell ‘good morning’ to each other after all.”

Darnell stopped in his tracks and stared at CJ in disbelief. In his head, their nonchalant tone did not match with their words. “Please tell me you’re joking,” he asked and hoped their answer would not make his heart jump a second time.

CJ began to grin at the shocked face in front of them. “No, seriously! Seeing you every morning sorta became part of my routine, so it feels wrong not to do that.” As if words had not been enough, CJ’s big-eyed, gentle expression was proof that they were not joking around.

Knowing he was even a part of the reason they had gone out running in the rain made Darnell feel fuzzy inside. For one, it would make him feel guilty if CJ ended up with a harsh cold because of this. But oddly enough, Darnell also found the whole situation somewhat endearing. This minor role he played in CJ’s daily life was still important enough to them to keep it as part of their routine.

Darnell chortled weakly for a lack of a better response and continued the walk upstairs in silence. When they both finally reached the second floor waited Pico in the hall already, holding out a bathrobe to the tall blonde. “Might as well go in the showers, dry yourself off there before you turn the place into an aquarium.”

“Aye aye,” CJ gave him a two-finger salute, replacing the towel over their shoulders with the bathrobe. Before they could ask for it pointed Darnell already down the hall for direction. “I’ll bring you some clothes to borrow in a sec.” He watched for a moment as CJ nodded and made their way over to the shower rooms.

Back in his room, Darnell searched for any oversized clothes he owned. The height difference him and CJ had was not too great, at most a couple inches. But after having wet clothes clinging to one’s skin, it was probably best to have something loose and comfy on for a change.

Pico leaned against his desk while Darnell was once more with his head in the closet. “You’re down bad, huh?” He began to grin when he received an unamused look in return.

“Wow, you’re a bright one. Your parents must be proud,” Darnell scoffed, not bothering to let Pico distract him much longer.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who took so long to accept that fact.”

“Does it get your dick hard when you’re right, or why d’you keep pestering me with this?”

Pico shrugged his shoulders, the grin on his lips growing ever so slightly, “Just enjoy pulling you back down in the crab bucket.”

“I bet five bucks you’re the first crab of the bucket to get eaten.”

“Yeah, sure.” Pico dismissed the conversation with a wave of his hand. “Don’t keep CJ waiting too long. They’re already waiting for their loyal simp.”

Darnell tutted to himself as he grabbed the clothes and left. He did not want to feed into Pico’s teasing any further.

He headed down the hall to the communal washrooms where CJ was waiting with a soft smile. “I hope they won’t be too tight on you,” Darnell said and handed over his clothes.

“I’m sure it’ll do. Anything is better than going back to my dorm like this.” CJ gestured down on themselves to point out the drenched outfit under the bathrobe. The already dark blue colour of the sports outfit was even deeper from the rain. But at least it had stopped dripping water all over the place and creating a slipping hazard, for the most part.

Darnell cleared his throat as he pulled his eyes off CJ’s body to look at their face again. "Yeah, you're right," he tried laughing off the feeling of self-consciousness that was slowly brewing in his guts. He received another warm smile before the other disappeared with his clothes in hand, giving Darnell enough time to quickly pick up his things for going to class.

It did not take long for CJ to get changed into the new clothes, and once the damp outfit was bagged up went Darnell and CJ outside on their way back across the campus.

The rain had become less heavy over time, but it was still enough to have them both share Darnell’s umbrella for the short walk. Neither of them said a word, only when their eyes happened to meet exchanged both a few gentle smiles. It was already enough to make it worth for Darnell how he had to hold the umbrella up higher than usual for CJ to comfortably walk under it.

They both came to stop by the main entrance of the other dormitory, still smiling at each other in silence for another moment.

"Well.. thanks for the kind help," CJ eventually spoke up softly. Their hand was quietly fiddling with the plastic bag loops as if they wanted Darnell not notice it.

Meanwhile Darnell felt himself gripping more onto the umbrella handle, oblivious to the small rustling sounds. Of course CJ would thank him, and yet he still got surprised by their words and left speechless for a moment. It was a struggle for him to even get a coherent sentence out. "Ah- I mean, I.. that's just..." He groaned to himself and threw his other hand up dismissively, "No big deal. As long as you don't get sick, I'm happy."

CJ's smile grew from gentle to big and amused, accompanied with a small laugh. "Alright, might as well quarantine myself for a few days to stay healthy for you."

For you

The words echoed in Darnell's mind, repeatedly dribbling into his thoughts like the rain around him. No matter how much he would try, Darnell could not remember how the conversation ended, what happened in his classes that day, nor was he able to notice the weather change on his way back to his room. All that his mind would focus on for all that time were these two words and the voice which had said them.

Though, Darnell got no further than a couple steps into his dorm before Pico practically jumped in front of him with a wide grin, making him finally break from his trance. “Hey! I got news!”

He blinked as he took a moment to recognise his friend again. “Good ones I assume?”

“Duh!”

“If I can still relax in the meantime, go ‘head and tell me,” Darnell gave Pico a somewhat tired smile. He dropped his bag in its usual spot by his desk, wanting to change into more comfortable clothes before he would sit down for some work.

Pico leaned against the wall near the desk as he talked, “So I was in class, and we were all waitin’ for the prof to show up. And some people were talking near me, so I joined in ‘n stuff. We talked about assignments and all that, and-“

“You gonna get to the point?”

“I was about to, jeez!” Pico threw his hands in the air as he complained. “Anyway, one of them then mentioned a party for the weekend! Not like a closed circle one, anyone on campus can join. So, what do you think?”

Darnell hesitated with his answer. He finally sat by the desk, avoiding eye contact with Pico until he finally had words for him, “I’m not sure, man. Still got my essay to work on.”

“Oh come on! You got time still, and it’s just one night!”

“One night I could spend with work and getting some proper sleep.”

“As if you were the type to need a real sleep schedule to function,” Pico scoffed as if he were trying to do an impression of his little sister. The Flintson siblings really liked to copy behaviours from each other.

Darnell already knew Pico would not let him off the hook that easily. If nearly ten years of friendship had taught Darnell something, it was that the redhead would probably continue to pester him about this party every free minute they got around each other. Maybe even over text too.

“Man, you know I gotta write my essay, ‘nd I don't even have all the books I need yet! I’ll try to be productive and get as much done as I can here. If, and I’m saying if, I get more than 75 percent done until Saturday, I will join ya. That good?”

Pico's smile grew wide and toothy. And in that moment, Darnell was not sure how good of an idea this decision was. But as long as he had Pico off his back, he would not waste much more time thinking about this than necessary.

And although Darnell finally had the mental capacity and time for focusing on his course work, it was not exactly easy to get a lot done with half the material needed not being around for him to reference and research with. Of course, he was aware of the internet's existence. But to him, it was far easier (and frankly more satisfying) to have a book in his hands to flip through and find the answers he was looking for than typing in some keywords into a search engine and pray that it would spit out some decent and reliable sources.

Reluctantly, Darnell had to surrender after getting no further than the essay's title and opening. He headed out to the library to find at least one or two books to take with him.

Although the walk was not far, he still gladly acknowledged the end of the rainy weather. The sky was still dimmed by the grey clouds overhead, but they were not intimidating enough to make him take an umbrella along that time. He knew what he would be looking for, so he was sure the trip would be short enough to not get surprised with a sudden rain shower. And indeed, it was a quick run around the science section. Though, it was partially due to a handful of books on his list having been rented out already. But his findings were still good enough for a start.

As Darnell reached the counter, however, the library assistant was gone. They were nowhere to be seen, but that was not really surprising, considering the size of the building. He had no choice but to simply wait for their return. Darnell needed the books, and if he did not check them out today, they might be gone soon for who knows how long, just like the others he could not find.

He placed the heavy books on the counter, ready for scanning and took out his phone to kill some time. Darnell was reading back the messages between him and his mother, discussing the latest happenings in his hometown when two students queued up behind him. The fact that they were in a library did not seem to keep either of them from giggling and chatting with each other in an outside-level voice.

“And, oh my gawd, I swear they must be getting desperate for real.”

- “What did they do?”

“Remember how bad it was raining this morning? Hailey told me they went out jogging anyway. Like, their clothes stuck to them, messy hair and all that shit.”

Darnell tried not to make it obvious as he began to listen in on the conversation happening behind his back.

- “Jeez. Aren’t their outfits enough anymore to get a good fuck around here?”

“Apparently not. But really, who wants to bang the campus slut?”

The laughter was incredibly distracting. Darnell had a hard time focusing on any of the thoughts starting to race in his head. He had completely forgotten about the chat he was reading before, he did not even remember why he was in the library anymore. That was until finally, the assistant returned with an exhausted laugh, “Sorry for the wait!”

“Ah, all good.” Darnell offered a small smile as reassurance. He would have to push the matter aside for a later time. For now, his priorities were to get out of the library and finally get some proper work done on his essay. There was no time to waste on some stupid gossip about the person he had lent his clothes to this morning. It was not worth it to involve himself in what most likely was just the usual type of drama hunters who made mountains out of any molehill they could find.

*

The next day was not pouring down as badly as the one before. But Darnell and Pico decided it was best to spend their morning routine inside again regardless. Neither felt it was worth getting dressed just for them to tolerate the cold winds. Especially when this would in turn also make their coffee cool down even quicker.

And although it was no problem for them to not engage in conversation, Pico still felt as if something was off. The way that Darnell frowned at his mug was not normal. "You good?"

"Huh?-" Darnell's expression softened rather quickly as he switched to look at Pico. "Yeah, just a bit surprised CJ ain't showing up today."

Pico raised a brow, part teasing, part genuine wonder. "Are you really that desperate to see them soaked again?"

"Oh shut it," Darnell groaned. "I even told them myself to stay the fuck inside 'nd not get sick." He was not even realising how his mind had mixed up his thoughts and actual memory.

Pico in turn began to frown himself. "I don't see the issue then."

"That's the thing, there is none."

"Nells, you're being cryptic."

"I.. guess it just feels weird to not see them this morning. I've gotten used to it."

Pico seemed to accept the answer. It was still too early for him to challenge all of Darnell's words or bully him endearingly for his crush. And it did not even need the redhead to make one of his usual snark comments to get his friend speak up again just shortly after.

"I heard some.. weird shit yesterday."

"Like what?"

"In the library, while I waited to check out my books. No clue who, but some students were shitting on CJ. Called 'em desperate and the 'campus slut'. No clue where that title came from."

There was a moment of silence in the room. Neither of them was sure what to say, how to not be disrespectful and dismissive or form strong opinions based on barely any information.

Pico tapped his nails on the mug in his hands. His mind was full of thoughts which left him staring into nothingness. He broke out of the trance shortly after and released a small tired groan before taking a long sip of his coffee. "That's.. shit."

Darnell agreed with a low hum.

"Are you gonna tell them about it?" Pico asked curiously.

Hesitantly, Darnell answered with a shrug, "I mean, should I? 'm not gonna go to their dorm 'nd say 'hey dude, what's the deal with people calling you the campus slut?' Not my style. Or, what if they're already aware of it, if I'd just bring up some shit they try livin' with for I dunno how long?"

"Ah, shit.."

The room fell silent once more, only being broken up by the small noises of Pico and Darnell eventually getting ready for either of their day’s classes. Oddly enough, Darnell's mind was not flooded with worries, or arguments going back and forth on whether he should keep his knowledge a secret to CJ.

No, his head felt almost empty. Unable to really form and hold onto any thoughts for an extended period of time. He could manage to follow his lectures throughout the day, take notes and stay on time with his schedule, be productive during his short off time. But only because these things did not require him to really think on his own. The almost mindless activities served as somewhat of a distraction.

It almost felt like some sort of amnesia to the issue. Knowing there was something, but not being able to figure out what that thing was.

Until the end of his final lecture.

Until he stopped by the other dorm.

Until he got to a particular room on the fourth floor.

Darnell stood in front of the door, hand raised in a fist and ready to knock. The sounds of laughter and bits of conversation poured through. It had become a familiar mix of noise to him from his regular visits.

All of the sounds stopped when he knocked. It took no longer than a few seconds, and the door swung open.

"Nells!" CJ greeted their friend with a wide grin.

Without a warning, Darnell was reminded of what he had 'forgotten' during the day. He could not help but look at the tall blonde, the kind face standing in front of him and wonder what they must have done to deserve such a demeaning title. Though, deserve was probably not the right word to use.

"How ye'r doing, Jay?" Darnell gave CJ a big smile in return.

"Good, good! So far, I'm still fit."

"Fit enough to work on the essays?"

CJ's grin grew slightly and they brought a hand down on Darnell's shoulder. "You're really taking this seriously, huh?" They laughed softly.

Darnell shrugged in response and took up on the nonverbal invitation inside. For now, he was here to work with CJ. Anything that would keep him from being productive would stay outside the room for the time being.

He could worry about the meaning of it all on a less rainy day.

[callsignbaphomet]

You know what? I kept thinking about that post I reblogged about the skin care tags and I am NOT siding with the person who used those tags. That person's an asshole. However, the majority of people in this site do have a major problem with self-care and recovery. Like, someone posts some tips or hints for stuff they've tested out or advice that was given to them and there's always--ALWAYS--some people up in arms and offended that someone would even dare to say that, much less try it.

I've seen people getting worked up over someone daring to suggest a bath could possibly help with their current state of mind and/or mood. It legit does. How many times did I go x amount of time without a shower because I didn't have the energy or felt it wasn't worth it? Far too many to count. And every time I showered I almost instantly felt so much better and felt my mind clearing up.

Eating food (not junk food), drinking water, keeping yourself clean and even exercising helps make you feel so much better. And I won't sit here and say it's easy keeping a schedule and/or a routine because it is not. At least not at first. I started and stopped short of a week so many times. So many! It was nuts! At the start you're always gonna lack energy or a desire to do it and you'll even find yourself in a heated debate with yourself over whether you wanna do it or have the energy to. You're gonna find yourself thinking "One time/day without ____ isn't gonna hurt." And sure, usually it doesn't. Like my nutritionist said, "Do your very best and push yourself but if you miss out or need to skip then don't worry, shit happens." But sometimes that 1 day turns into 2 and then 3 and then 4 and before you know it you're back to your old harmful habits again. You have to fight tooth and nail through that mentality and eventually you'll be able to just do it without much effort at all. It gets so much easier if you just put some effort.

I even read a post about someone bitching about the post saying to try to brush your teeth. Like, this asshole was legit complaining that someone was recommending to at the very least brush your teeth. I remember the original post, I even commented on it encouraging people to brush their teeth because I very recently went through some teeth work. There is currently almost $4,000 in my mouth and I'm still not done. Teeth are insanely expensive, hardly ever covered by insurances and depending on the procedure they can be uncomfortable and painful with long recoveries. But like I said, a lot of people on this site love to fucking complain about posts that talk about self-care, recovery or advice that tells people to fucking do something instead of just rotting away with their thumb up their ass.

Dude, I spent years ignoring so much shit, ignoring doctor appointments, ignoring my own well being and it did nothing but screw me over. It took a massive fright in regards to my health to make me wake up. I legit thought I was gonna die but I didn't and you know what? Now I gotta use all my energy to undo all the damage I did to myself because I didn't wanna listen to anyone's advice or take some goddamn responsibility and take care of myself. It's taken a lot of hard work but I've gotten all my conditions under control, I'm going to ALL of my appointments, I'm taking all my medications, watching what I eat and how much of it I eat, doing research into my conditions to better understand them and I've lost almost 20 pounds in under a month. I feel absolutely amazing for the first time in almost 2 decades. I'm not even ignoring my mental health anymore, I'm working to find appointments to be able to fight back all this nonsense that led to this crap.

No one is making posts with advice to make you feel like shit or shame you. No one. These posts are mostly done by people who have gone through shit and wanna give others some advice so they don't go through what they went through. Fuck, I sure as shit don't want anyone to go through the scares I did so if asked I'll give advice, I'll link others to information, I'll reblog advice and/or information because whether you like it we all need advice and help from others. Just because it rubs you the wrong way it doesn't mean people are doing it to be mean or make you feel guilty or whatever nonsense you think people are trying to do.

It really takes a very specific kind of cunt to see a post talking about health advice or self-care and decide to make a counter-post to bitch about the post. Sit the fuck down and shut your ungrateful ass up.

And I'm totally disabling the rb option cuz y'all (not my mutuals, you guys are amazing) are fucking clowns and I don't have time for you.

[sincelastsession]

I am triggered.

I don't want to discuss fucking personality disorders in regards to me.

I had my bullshit blanket diagnosis of bpd and it RUINED my life. Robyn fucking Belle, the CVNT that just tried to contact me and my fucking father all conspired together and pushed me into going to goddamn regions.

AND GUESS WHAT JOSHUA. THEY FUCKED ME UP SO BAD ON MEDS AND RIPPED ME OFF MY XANAX COLD TURKEY FOR 2 WEEKS AND GAVE ME MEDS I DID NOT NEED AND SHOWED A FUCKING TED TALK ABOUT CHILD ABUSE....YOU DON'T SHOW THAT IN A PSYCH WARD SETTING ESP WHEN THERE'S A LEGIT DID PATIENT AND OTHER REGRESSED PEOPLE IN THE ROOM. THE SEXUAL HARASSMENT BY THE CRIMINALLY INSANE. THE NURSES AND DOCTOR THAT COMPLETELY MISSED THAT I DESPERATELY NEEDED HELP AND WAS SEIZING AND HAVING TROUBLE WALKING GOING INTO WAS A DYSTONIC REACTION THAT THE ER HAD TO DIAGNOSE

Fuck this.

Fuck.

DUDE THEY GAVE ME A MEDS I WASNT SUPPOSED TO HAVE AS THEY WERE ON MY "DONT GIVE" LIST

They threatened to hold me down to give me that shit.

They broke my fucking brain.

All because a dumb bitch, my father. And another dumb bitch crossed my boundaries OVER AND OVER TRYING TO TELL ME ABOUT HOW DR TODD WAS EVIL AND I WAS ON TOO MANY MEDS.

I was FINE. I was HAVING MY STSRT IN JUNE YEARLY BREAKDOWN THAT LASTS TILL MY BIRTHDAY THING. I TRIED TO FUCKING TELL THEM.

This happens every year. I DO NOT KNOW WHY.

JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE HAS SYMPTOMS OF A PERSONALITY DISORDER DOESN'T MEAN THEY'RE FUCKING BPD.

Yes Dr. Todd said "you may have a personality disorder but everyone does"

You do too.

We all do to some degree.

But DO NOT TELL ME ABOUT LABELS AND THEN TOSS A LABEL AT ME

Fuck

Like REALLY?

Yes. I wasn't mad earlier but now I am.

I am mad because I can see exactly what's going on here and the little track we're on that sooooo many therapists have seen and gotten WRONG.

I can't just have the clusterfuck of issues and talk about them. Oh wait they're imaginary and made up according to my family and now you my therapist.

Everyone wants to diagnose me. I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS.

I am so SICK of this shit.

I would rather go out to the parking lot and have a screaming match than sit there and fucking fawn and mask.

Then there's no availability for an appointment.

Why take on a patient if you have no time to see them once a week?

Like you think I can't see you and I don't notice that you have your own issues you should work on before you make your cognitive distortions about me?

Because you're WRONG.

Everyone has been WRONG.

I have tried so fucking hard for over 25 goddamn years to be understood and still no one gets it.

And no I'm not stoned. I didn't smoke this evening.

Like I've been dissociative since I was a tiny child a toddler.

I used to put myself in autopilot and goddamn I wish I could harness that again but NO my issues just got worse because I'm apparently a target for SICK FUCKS

I literally don't think you even want me as a patient.

You're frustrated with me about something that I have 0 fucking control over my speech my speech my voice it's always fucking wrong everything about me is always so fucking wrong.

Mom and dad hate me my sister hates me And it shit I can't do anything about

The amount of resentment that my parents in my family in general hold for me is outrageous and I'm sorry that you didn't get to see the real version of my fucking family.

And yes I'm being a fucking bitch and yes I am reactive as hell. I'm aware I am so fucking aware as much as I can possibly be.

But no I do not see whatever else sees because they are only looking at surface level shit.

You know a long time ago pretty much any mental illness was considered schizophrenia

And they did studies and they've learned things about the brain and they're still doing that because the brain is a big mystery jello

I do not think diagnosis are bullshit

I mean dude yes they had to make them up because not everybody can be diagnosed as schizophrenic when they don't exhibit all of the symptoms of that

Why even have ADSM book and say that it's all made up and you don't like labels but you have the ability to diagnose people that doesn't make any fucking sense to me

And it's aggravating Joshua because I don't hate you at all I'm just pissed off. I don't understand why everybody has to pick at what's wrong with me.

I see a fucking psychiatrist. I saw one before him who was much better but unfortunately he is dead and I will never have him back.

I am screwed I am so fucked.

Because if we're going down the little path I think we're going down I'm going to exit.

Unfortunately all I can do is observe and find out if that's the pathway are going down and no I'm not going to elaborate because I need to find out for myself if this is a good fit.

And I don't think you know enough of me or about me.

I am more than happy to work on things and work on goals but you know some of the verbage you use towards me doesn't seem very fucking thought out it just seems like you're pulling things you learned in clinical studies and conferences and from past experiences of yours and you're trying to apply that to me like you're trying to apply it like a blanket

I don't fit under the blanket

That's what you need to understand

I am not like your other patients

I'm also very fucking triggered because you're reminding me of Robin. I'm not sure what it is exactly but it's triggering the shit out of me.

I don't like it. It's giving cope team at the ER.

I really don't think that there's anything wrong with me just completely having a fucking bitch festival on my fucking online journal.

You do understand that I'm still trying to trust you in general right?

That's one reason I am not ready to do the EMDR other than the fact that I need to move and do some other things first.

And yes I'm worried that you're going to read all of this and get pissed off and drop me as a client.

And that will basically fuck me over.

But you told me I could be mad and that you didn't care so here we are.

And you don't have a clue about my fucking mother and why I had that reaction.

She did that shit on purpose and you didn't see the smirk on her face. The classic narcissistic ass smirk that they get when they know that they are causing someone distress.

She loves to play tit-for-tat

Everybody in the fucking family can tell you about her bullshit because she has to be the victim in every scenario.

And honestly I'm still baffled about how my father acted like he never did anything wrong ever and acted like a normal human being and then you tell me it's safe for me to talk to him and he starts screaming at me in the fucking parking lot just completely switched his personality and flipped out at me and continues to do so and continues to beat me down and cut me down verbally every time I have a fucking phone call with him I feel like a goddamn burden because he wants to get off the phone and doesn't want to hear from me or talk to me or know anything about my life

So why in the fuck do these people say that they care but then they treat me like absolute goddamn garbage. Riddle me fucking that.

Because what happens is a cycle of using and a cycle of abusing.

And I'm not happy that I'm back in contact with everybody

I wish that I could just not talk to these people I wish I didn't care about them in order to do that

I do not fucking understand how people in general are so clueless and fucking rude and thoughtless and selfish And judgmental and they can't fucking practice what they preach. And when I tell them about themselves and I mirror them and they see themselves in me they don't fucking like it and they attack me

And I don't do it on purpose that's just something that happens when I talk to people sometimes

For instance somebody asked me a question the other day and they did not get the answer that they apparently wanted

So I got a full paragraph about how I'm a stupid fucking bitch.

I was only trying to be helpful.

So much for trying to be a good person because no good deed that I ever do goes fucking unpunished.

And no that's not a cognitive distortion I am fucking punished every single time I tried to do something nice for somebody or even myself.

And honestly if I could go back to my last EMDR therapist and continue to work with her or if I could go see the therapist that my friend in Lafayette sees I would but I can't afford that.

And maybe I'll calm down when we actually get to the EMDR

Because right now I'm really fucking tired of things being noticed about me as if I didn't fucking already know

I get irritated because I get bitched out about run on talking Or hyperverbal processing out loud

And I can't help that shit

If I could have helped that shit I would not be in fucking therapy anymore because I wouldn't be abused for that or maybe I would be in therapy because it would find something else wrong with me to fucking torture me about

It also sort of pisses me off that the things that I write down are just skimmed

And yes the journalist for me but you also have access to it so you can learn things from me and I don't think skimming is going to help you learn things from me as well as actually just you know reading what I have to say

But I'm a speed reader as well so I do understand to an extent but when you are a treating of impatient and they are writing very long things for you to read so you could understand them better because you have a very short time schedule block for them to talk to you in person it's really aggravating for the patient

And I'm sure it's really aggravating for you to have to read my very long journal or even trying to read it because yes it's unhinged

I'm doing this for my own well-being

I also don't understand why I see people who have worse problems than me get treated betterNot specifically by you but just in general I will be out in the general public and somebody will be like oh I have this sad bitch disorder and everybody's like oh no let's give you all the attention let's love on you let's just fucking suck your ass

And you know what it is you know what I figured out it fucking is it's always the skinny BPD girls that cut themselves and are covered with tattoos and have split dyed hair or whatever the fucking new trend is

It's people like my fucking sister

I mean honestly you do need to remember that I am autistic telling me that I'm not are saying that it might be something else is invalidating the fuck out of me

My psychiatrist and my PA absolutely know that I have autism.

I have gone undiagnosed my entire fucking life and Doctor Todd finally figured it out. And I got relief from knowing everybody was always on my ass bitching me out about why I was seeking that diagnosis because it makes all the sense in the goddamn world.

It does it mean that I don't have a personality disorder or some sort of disassociative disorder or I don't know just sad bitch disorder because I've been traumatized my whole life but I do have autism.

And I'm not ashamed of that's part of who I am and I don't appreciate when people come along and fucking invalidate me

I'm almost 38 years old and I was seeking answers and I'm still seeking answers because there are a lot of things going on with my health and they have always been going on with my health.

Why in the world would you fuss at me or bring up whatever the fuck you want to use term wise because apparently I can't ever use the right God damn words and people take things so God damn personally when I'm just trying to be direct and express myself

And it's hypocritical because everybody else fucking does this too whether they are neurodivergent or not.

And you know what it's so fucking funny to me that elystic people think that they don't have anything wrong with them and they don't have anything to work on and shit like that when it's just so obvious that they have so many complexes and so many little insecurities and issues and I can spot it a fucking mile away

Put fuck me for bringing up the past which I'm going to have to bring up an EMDR anyway

I'm not trying to live in my past I go over my past because there's important points to it which seem to be missed

I don't really know how to fucking communicate with therapists anymore.

The amount of trauma I have had from therapy and everything else medical in my life is insane

And I am mad and I do feel fucking threatened

And maybe I won't be mad tomorrow and maybe I'll get the fuck over it but right now I am pissed

I'm just tired of being seen as some sort of problem

Do you know what's that like I'm sure you do some extent

But have you been seen as a problem since you are diagnosed with health issues as a small child and you were no longer viewed as healthy baby

And your parents started to reset you right then and there and started the passive neglectful parenting and the helicopter bullshit which was pointless because why helicopters somebody and try to control every single thing they do and then abuse the fuck out of them and then ignore them and then be passive-aggressive towards them and then be dependent on them And use them and treat them like shit and then show up to my therapists office and fucking act like they're the most perfect wonderful parents on earth and then they do this little fucking song and dance every goddamn time and I warned you I told you they were gonna pull something but nobody listens to me

And nobody has to listen to me that's fine but you know if they took my advice they might be fucking better off

Ian you know what's driving me absolutely insane is because I know you from somewhere and I do not know where. It's not from therapy. It must be through someone I know because Baton Rouge is a small world. But yes it's driving me nuts I really wish I knew the connection.

It's also sort of uncomfortable because I'm sitting here going to the fuck does my therapist know that I know because I recognize them from outside of therapy and I don't know why

I still thank you should put a mirror up across from where you sit so you can see how you act when you talk to me like your body language and all that like you could look and notice you could get a shatterproof mirror that no one can hurt themselves with like those exist.

And yes Joshua yes I do self sabotage or at least that's what everybody tells me everybody loves to tell me what I'm doing but they don't actually know what I'm doing

Because people do not think to ask how I am feeling before they say things to me and make assumptions and other cognitive distortions about me

You know I never got to create me.

I was so grossly abused you have no fucking idea.

Because you don't know all of it I've only told you tiny tiny portion of it.

I don't even know if I'm going to be able to talk about all of it and process all of it when we do EMDR and I don't know if that's going to even help but I'm willing to try

But I'm so fucking angry

I mean don't you realize what happens to children when their psychosocial stages are fucked up because people abuse them during those stages

Other than the fucking pedophilia people

I remember being in a high chair and having someone shove it over and landing on the ground and hitting my head as a fucking baby

My dad got caught hitting me while he was trying to force feed me food I did not want as a small child and I don't remember that but my grandmother saw it and I believe her even though she's not here with us today

I don't even breathe correctly

And I'm not being dramatic or making some sort of metaphor with that I literally don't breathe correctly because I breathe shallow because of all the trauma I have had since I was a tiny child

I breathe quietly because I don't want to piss someone off by taking deep breaths

Did you know that if I make a huff noise because I'm holding my breath unconsciously that my parents flip out at me

I mean have you ever ridden around as a teenager smoking blunts in the back of a shitty car while your best friend's baby daddy and his best friand are selling crack

How many times have you had a gun pointed at you

How many times have you sat there and watched your best friend shoot up drugs and know that you can't do a fucking thing about it other than sit there and keep watch and smoke a joint because you don't want her to die but you can't sit there having a fucking panic attack so you might as well get stoned and fucking watch turn and make sure she doesn't die

And then she went and fucking died

She's dead and I can never have a best friend again that will ever feel the same

And if you think that I don't see all the stupid things that I have said and all the things that you probably want to point out you're wrong

I know I'm fucked up. Why do you think I've stayed in therapy for so long other than pure pressure from my parents just constant even though they won't seek help for their unresolved behavioral issues

It's really not fair nothing in my life has been fucking fair

And I'm watching my father die slowly and it's heartbreaking because he's so fucking abusive but he was also at times a decent father

The amount of mixed fucking emotions I have about that is immense

And then learning about how my mother is just a compulsive fucking liar and has hidden so much from me

And then having a sister that thinks I'm some sort of dumbass who constantly lies to me about everythingAnd who is having a complete fucking breakdown

She needs to go on a 72 hour hold so badly and if I ever hear Her say I Want To die again I Am going to call ems in it's going to piss off the entire family but guess what I'm So Sick of hearing it do you Know how many times She said it

She's been saying she wanted to die since fucking middle school

I do not care if she's only saying it out loud as an intrusive thought

Because that's bullshit when you say that that many times you're asking for help

And her brain is so adult from all the things that she's been doing that are not good for her chemically

I can't even fucking have a conversation with her without her starting some sort of weird argument and escalating it and it making 0 sense and giving her a reason to throw a fucking tantrum and take her anger out on me

And then when people confront her about things that they're worried about she just blows it off and pretends that it doesn't exist like complete fucking denial and lying straight to your face and all of that and then she will lash out at you if you don't fall for it

I've never seen someone so fucking insecure

You know I had to have her go stand in front of a mirror and tell herself nice things the last time she had a huge mental breakdown and wanted to die because her ex-boyfriend was sleeping and she called his phone over a 100 times frantic till I had to take her phone away from her and hand it to my mom so she could hold on to it until my sister calmed down

But how in the world did this happen well she was dropped off over at my apartment because my father her father could not fucking deal with her

And I thought that she was going to come over and hanging out with me I didn't know she was having a fucking breakdown

And then her best friend that she fucking neglects who is a wonderful kid came over and it was the girl's birthday and the girl brought cake that her grandmother made and my sister was having such a freak out that she refused to eat she refused to eat she refused to spend any time with her friend and was just in the bathroom smoking weed in my apartment over and over and over and over and over again frantically and calling all of her other friends that she doesn't even talk to anymore because they got tired of her shit

And I would love to tell her that they're not friends with her anymore because they could not stand her behavior and she bitch and bitched and bitched about when she had falling out with them because they flat out told her the truth and she didn't want to hear It

The truth is she is insecure and angry and hurting and she won't let anybody help her open up and release her emotions and feel her feelings she just builds up and explodes or she instigates shit so she can explode

It's literally the classic cry for help and I can't do fuck about it

I fucking warned everyone I told them that this was going to happen but they didn't believe me

I'm not trying to control people when I tell them what's up

I have a knowing

I always have.

And people don't like to hear about that because they don't believe in things like that and they think I'm crazy and that's fine I don't care

But sometimes I just fucking know things

The amount of things that I have predicted is like fucking unprecedented and I'm talking about like within my family and groups of friends and just life in general of mine

And I don't need anybody to tell me that it's not real and it's a trauma response in all of that crap because yes it's totally possible just like me having a personalities disorder it's just so totally possible but you know what I don't want that on my fucking chart

And I don't need anybody to tell me that it's not real and it's a trauma response in all of that crap because yes it's totally possible just like me having a personalities disorder it's just so totally possible but you know what I don't want that on my fucking chart I do not want it on my chart

Do not fucking put that on my chart

I will be happy to investigate it with you and work on it if I do have something going on because I said that therapy that I was curious to know about anything going on with me and I meant it

Am I happy about this subject fuck no it's a very source subject for very good reasons

I'm so fucking tired and I fucking hate it here

I just want to go somewhere for at least 2 fucking weeks and have a nice time and have 0 problems and get some goddamn rest

What's there's nowhere I can go and I can't fucking afford it

I don't even know if I can afford to put gas in my car to go figure out this fucking clusterfuck situation about why in the hell was my anxiety medicine not called in

I really really really do not want what to have to go to the fucking ER and get treated like I'm drug seeking because my Doctor won't fucking respond or talk to the pharmacy and refill my script

They never fucking refilled it from last visit I spoke to the pharmacist today he looked at the computer system

I thought did I was losing my fucking mind but no they are inept

So now I have another stupid thing to deal with and my psychiatrist is like paranoid that I'm going to have horrible problems using medical marijuana and taking my anxiety medicine that I've taken most of my life and I know more about than probably most doctors at this point

I mean Doctor Todd knew the man that developed the drug. He was very cool. He broke down all the information about that medication to me. He checked me every single month when I would go in to have an appointment

There was never an issue.

Now klonopin I can't have that. That makes me violent and an absolute monster. And I completely lose my memory when I take it which I don't anymore.

And value volume never did a fucking thing for me except make me have the opposite reaction and rage like I was on steroids and it was bad

I mean we have tried everything medically to get a hold on my anxiety and you know what we all go back to every single time after the Doctor tries to take me off the medication and put me on all these other things that they think are going to fix me

They put me right back on the xanax because you know why because it fucking works

It may not work super duper strong but I am on a lower dose than I should be on

And I decided that I'm not going to fight my psychiatrist about that I have told him that when I was on 4 mg a day to take as needed that I did just fine And I was a lot less stressed out and I didn't talk like I talk now

I mean did you ever think that I might just be a fucking nervous wreck with ADHD and autism and complex PTSD and OCD and those are just all combined causing me problems and I'm in 2 flare-ups of 2 of those conditions at the same time and I'm being abused and I have a fucking nightmare neighbor

No I don't really think it's the personality disorder right now

I mean I was told by an expert that I do not have your classic little personality disorder she told me and she was one of the head people at the PTSD facility 4 veterans up North She fucking told me that it was a trash diagnosis and I did not have that she told me that I had been misdiagnosed and I had complex PTSD from severe abuse

And then Doctor Todd confirmed that

Because I had never told him about any of the abuse and horrible things that happened to me because I was just going there and being treated for severe anxiety and panic disorder which I do have and it is hell I can't even fucking sleep unless I take my medicine

Even if I do take my medicine I still have problems sleeping

Imagine there's little dreams you have right before you fall on just deep sleep where your whole body jumps because it feels like you're falling right

Well imagine that happening over and over and over and over again and being awake for 4 days straight until you flip out and your mother has to take you to the fucking hospital so they can diagnose you with something and solve your problem and then your dad finally agrees to send you back to your psychiatrist and pay for the appointment that you can't afford because you're paying him money for living at your friend's house

You know it's not like I didn't give my dad rent money or money in general throughout my life

Everybody thinks that I'm just trying to be dependent on my parents for money or trying to use them for money and I really don't fucking care about money that much other than we need it to survive

They literally get paranoid that I have some sort of ulterior motive

I get treated like a supervillain

I get treated like fucking dog shit on someone shoe

So of course I'm reactive of course I'm reactive abusive yeah I probably have a million things wrong with me you're probably right about everything let's just make all the therapists right let's just diagnose me with everything how about that

You know the darkness is I do have I am not trying to make excuses when I say oh that's probably what's causing this issue

That doesn't mean that I don't think that the issue can be helped

No some of it I really do not see the end of the rainbow with that

But some of it yes I can see that it can be helped

And nobody seems to think about the possible neurological things going on that aren't the other diagnosis

Like I've said I never wento a narrow psych and got evaluated because I can't fucking find one that takes medicaid that will treat me like a fucking Human instead of some sort of oddity

My entire life I was paraded in front of doctors till I got older and put a stop to that because I had a rare disorder and everybody wanted to see it and learn about it and touch me and look at my skin and then they put me on fucking steroids which made me fat and screwed up my thyroid and screwed up my growth and fucking triggered other problems and I don't even have hands that are normal sized for my frame

[amalgamationillustration]

Today is a big ADHD shame day. Either my meds aren't working any more or I've somehow fucked up my life whilst on them. I'm pretty sure they're not working and I have an appointment in just over a month but god today I feel like shit.

I've gained back most of the weight I lost and I'm not in shape any more even though I felt amazing with how consistent I was with exercising. My joints and asthma are shit now again and it's literally my fault. The worst part is I'm not even that overweight but it just doesn't take much for my body to feel the struggle of it. It also sucks because really to be and maintain the weight I felt the best at I'd only need to cut like 200 calories max a day, but I just can't consistently maintain actually logging my food without getting bored, forgetting or realising I'm over so there's no point doing the rest that day. I dont then proceed to overeat after that but I just think eugh its gonna make me feel bad and some days it's unavoidable especially when I have such a small margin for deficit. Because I'm not super overweight, a big deficit isn't reasonable or realistic so I'm not going to start cutting back insane amounts, but weirdly its harder to just lose a smaller amount than it was when I was bigger.

I also feel like I'm bad at friendships and I've had one recently that's devolved because we just have different communication styles, I communicate too much and too often and she communicated less frequently and less consistently and so I always end up annoying her with my hyperactivity and she annoys me when she asks me to be less which is so hard when I have 0 self control skills, especially when my meds are out of action seemingly.

With my other friendships I've always struggled with making myself overly available for people and finding they then rely on that and start only really talking to me to tell me bad news or to complain and they actively disengage when I'm happy or successful at something. And I'm trying to avoid repeating the same patterns but it's hard to push people away when I know I can be there but in doing so I don't notice when its suddenly become all encompassing. I also struggle with friends not living near, not replying to messages cause they also have ADHD, not committing to hang outs which makes me stop trying. I have dreams about friends I've lost touch with because they're otherwise occupied with other friends or other things and I just feel like I fall so far down the priority list for some people that I'd list much higher.

The only reason my spending isn't out of control is because I cleared my debt and closed my credit accounts, if I hadn't I'd have already dipped back into them and I'm having to actively fight myself not to take out new lines of credit just to get dopamine purchases.

I'm just so eughh at the moment, I can't motivate myself to do anything, everything feels like it's either unrewarding work or it's something I shouldn't be engaging in because it's something I'm trying to be better at. So it's like I don't wanna get up and overeat for dopamine, and I don't want to spend money I don't have, but because I don't have any dopamine I also can't get up and do things I need to do. It's driving me fucking insane.

The worst part is knowing exactly what I need to do or should do because its what I've done when my meds work, and just still not doing it because my brain is too dopamine deprived to do something not bad for me that will give me dopamine. And if I do manage it I can't manage it for more than a few days. All I can manage is bed rot. Then I don't spend money or over eat or annoy anyone but I also don't get anything done that might help I'm so mad at myself it's so dumb and its not normally this bad. I am lucky to get an hour out of each of my meds each day, like I take short acting and it's meant to last 4 hours and I'm blessed if each one gives me an hour so I can have 3 useful hours a day, at a push.

[pesterloglog]

Karkat Vantas, Swifer Eggmop, Kanaya Maryam, Meenah Peixes

Candy, page 25

KARKAT: SWIFER

KARKAT: SWIFER CAN YOU...

KARKAT: SWIFER!

SWIFER: Aye aye Commander! What’s up?

KARKAT: FOR THE LAST TIME, DON’T CALL ME THAT.

SWIFER: Why not, Commander? Yer the Commander, ain’t you?

KARKAT: NO, I AM NOT THE “COMMANDER.”

KARKAT: DID I EVER ASK TO BE IN CHARGE?

KARKAT: DID I EVER ACCEPT AN OFFICIAL APPOINTMENT FROM SOME OSTENTATIOUS MILITARY BOARD?

KARKAT: HAVE I EVER SUCCESSFULLY LED A CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE INCREASINGLY OPPRESSIVE REGIME THAT WE SUFFER UNDER ON A DAILY BASIS?

KARKAT: THE ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS IS CATEGORICALLY AND CATASTROPHICALLY: FUCK. NO.

SWIFER: Well gee, Commander. I think it’s more of a symbolic title, representin’ how much faith everyone has in you.

KARKAT: WHAT FUCKING FAITH?

KARKAT: AS JUST DISCUSSED I HAVEN’T DONE A DAMN THING TO EARN ANYONE’S FAITH.

KARKAT: SO FAR ALL THIS “TROLL REBELLION” HAS AMOUNTED TO IS A WHOLE LOT OF DICK ALL, WITH AN ADDITIONAL SIDE SERVING OF JACK SQUAT, FOLLOWED UP BY A FINAL COURSE OF GETTING TO WATCH OUR TOP ANALYST, CLIPER BORDEN, BEING FORCED TO DANCE TO AVOID LIFE IMPRISONMENT IN A LABOR CAMP ON LIVE TELEVISION AND MAKING A COMPLETE ASS OF HIMSELF.

SWIFER: Poor Cliper.

SWIFER: He could record a stat like nobody’s business but no one ever taught the boy how to dance.

SWIFER: If only we knew, this all coulda been avoided.

KARKAT: NO!

KARKAT: HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO DANCE IF HE DOESN’T WANT TO.

KARKAT: THAT’S WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT SWIFER.

SWIFER: Oh.

KARKAT: BUT WHAT’S THE POINT IF I CAN’T EVEN SAVE ONE OF MY LIEUTENANTS FROM MORTIFYING PUBLIC EMBARRASSMENT FOLLOWED BY A LIFETIME OF HARD LABOR IN THE CAKE MILLS?

KARKAT: IF I CAN’T PROTECT MEMBERS OF THE SO-CALLED RESISTANCE FROM THE FICKLE AND CRUEL VAGARIES OF JANE’S INSANE, PASTRY-BASED SHADOW DICTATORSHIP, HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT THE COMMON PEOPLE?

SWIFER: Golly. Look Commander. That’s a big question that I think you gotta take up with someone more in the know than myself.

SWIFER: I just swif the floors.

KARKAT: OH, YEAH. RIGHT.

KARKAT: SPEAKING OF WHICH.

KARKAT: THE LEAK IN THE CEILING?

KARKAT: YOU KNOW, RIGHT ABOVE THE PLACE WHERE WE KEEP ALL OF OUR FRAGILE LOGISTICS EQUIPMENT?

KARKAT: DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO FIX THAT A FUCKING WEEK AGO?

SWIFER: Well sir you told me to “take care of it” and I sure as heck took care of it!

KARKAT: THEN WHY IS IT STILL LEAKING?

SWIFER: Oh. By “fix” you meant that you wanted me to plug the crack!

KARKAT: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK I MEANT?

SWIFER: I thought you meant for me to mop up the water that had gathered...

SWIFER: And then use that water to swif the bejeebus out of the floors.

SWIFER: Which is, by all accounts, what I did.

KARKAT: UGH.

KARKAT: YOU KNOW WHAT?

KARKAT: I’M GOING TO GET SOME FRESH AIR.

KARKAT: BY THE TIME I GET BACK I EXPECT THE HOLE IN THE CEILING TO BE “““SWIFED””” THE FUCK CLOSED.

KARKAT: OR AT THE VERY LEAST

KARKAT: PUT A FUCKING BUCKET UNDER THE LEAK OR SOMETHING.

SWIFER: Sir! Oh my gosh! A bucket? Sh-should we be seen...

SWIFER: Consortin’ with a bucket?

SWIFER: *Together*??

KARKAT: OH MY GOD.

KARKAT: GROW THE FUCK UP, EGGMOP.

KANAYA: Well

KANAYA: That Was A Lot

KARKAT: OH SHIT.

KARKAT: I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WERE STILL ON THE LINE.

KANAYA: We Hadnt Finished Our Conversation About The Clandestine Transportation Of The Mother Grub

KANAYA: Which I Hope You Realize Is Still An Operation Of Grave Importance At Least On Par With The Terrible Threat Of The Leak In Your Office

KARKAT: SORRY. I KIND OF HAVE A LOT GOING ON RIGHT NOW.

KANAYA: I Can See That

KANAYA: Please Do Not Be So Hard On Swifer She Really Does Try Her Best

KARKAT: YEAH. I KNOW.

KARKAT: TO BE HONEST THAT WASN’T ABOUT SWIFER AT ALL. OR EVEN ABOUT THE LEAK.

KANAYA: Yes Karkat That Was Obvious

KANAYA: Rose And I Have Been Following The Dance Off Tribunals Very Closely This Month

KANAYA: Your Lieutenant Does Not Have A Chance

KANAYA: But Do Not Let It Weigh Heavily On You

KANAYA: Everyone Who Joins The Rebellion Knows That Being Exiled To The Cake Mills Is A Very Real Possibility If They Are Caught

KANAYA: That Includes You Karkat

KANAYA: If You Bear The Responsibility For The Lives Of Every Member Of The Rebellion Youll Crack Under The Stress

KANAYA: And As Much As You Are Loath To Admit It

KANAYA: You Are The Face Of This Movement

KARKAT: YEAH.

KARKAT: I HATE IT, BUT YOU’RE RIGHT.

KARKAT: FUCK YOU, YOU’RE ALWAYS RIGHT.

KANAYA: As My Wife Likes To Tell Me Often

KARKAT: UGH. FUCK HER, SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT TOO.

KARKAT: HOW THE HELL DO YOU TWO TOLERATE EACH OTHER?

KANAYA: Quite Thoroughly Enthusiastically And Often

KARKAT: WOW. UGH. OK.

KARKAT: THAT’S ENOUGH OF YOU FOR TODAY.

KANAYA: Oh I Am Sorry I Did Not Mean To Rub My Interspecies Happiness In Your Face I Understand That Its A Sore Subject

KARKAT: THE ONLY THING THAT’S SORE IS MY EAVESDROP FUNNELS FROM LISTENING TO YOUR ENDLESS MOTHERING.

KANAYA: Karkat I Am Sure That If You Were To Just

KARKAT: DON’T

KANAYA: Call Dave And Ask Him To Join You...

KARKAT: WOW, IS THAT ANOTHER CAVE-IN I HEAR HAPPENING SUDDENLY ALL AROUND ME?

KANAYA: He Would Be At Your Side Instantly

KARKAT: KANAYA WE’RE BEING OVERRUN BY IMPERIAL DRONES! IT’S HORRIBLE! THERE’S DEATH AND FIRE EVERYWHERE, AND ALSO I CAN’T HEAR A FUCKING WORD YOU’RE SAYING, SO IF YOU WERE TO EVER TO ATTEMPT TO REFERENCE THIS CONVERSATION IN THE FUTURE I WOULD HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT

KARKAT: SO IT WOULD PROBABLY BE BEST FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED IF YOU’D DROP THE SUBJECT AND NEVER MENTION IT AGAIN!

KANAYA: Okay Karkat Have A Good Walk Ill Talk To You About The Mother Grub Tomorrow

KANAYA: Goodbye And Take Care

KARKAT: OH. YEAH. YOU TAKE CARE TOO. TALK TO YOU TOMORROW.

KARKAT: MEENAH??

KARKAT: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?

MEENAH: woah shouty mcnubs that you

KARKAT: UH, THAT’S STILL NOT MY NAME. BUT YEAH.

MEENAH: nice

KARKAT: WHATEVER HAPPENED TO FIGHTING LORD ENGLISH?

KARKAT: DID THAT WORK OUT OR... WHAT?

MEENAH: nah it was a total wash

KARKAT: OH.

KARKAT: WAIT A MINUTE.

KARKAT: ARE YOU...

KARKAT: ALIVE???

MEENAH: yeah bitch

MEENAH: im back 38)

KARKAT: WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GET THAT RING?

KARKAT: WAIT, YOU DIDN’T...

KARKAT: MEENAH, DID YOU ROB CALLIOPE?!

MEENAH: who

KARKAT: THE GIRL WITH THE HIDEOUS GREEN SKULL FOR A HEAD.

KARKAT: THAT WAS HER RING. I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION SHE NEEDED THAT TO LIVE!

MEENAH: oh

MEENAH: nah man

MEENAH: its not hers i got it from some other total sucker

KARKAT: WHO???

MEENAH: dont matter

MEENAH: complete bonehead chump you aint be hearin from again

KARKAT: MEENAH, ARE YOU FUCKING LYING TO ME.

MEENAH: nubs i wouldnt do that to you

MEENAH: not after all this time

MEENAH: ya girls fine this shits my own damn ring

MEENAH: capisces?

MEENAH: what are you up to?

KARKAT: WELL...

KARKAT: THAT’S LIKE, A WHOLE FUCKING EXPLANATION.

MEENAH: splain awave nubby

KARKAT: I’M SORT OF IN THE MIDDLE OF STAGING A WIDE SCALE GRASSROOTS REBELLION AGAINST AN INCREASINGLY AUTHORITARIAN GLOBAL HEGEMONY THAT IS OPPRESSING OUR PEOPLE.

MEENAH: hmm

KARKAT: ACK.

MEENAH: now thats what im TALKIN about

MEENAH: yeah i could use a new seacond in command

KARKAT: ACTUALLY, YOU’D BE *MY* SECOND IN COMMAND.

KARKAT: NO OFFENSE OR ANYTHING, BUT MY FACE IS ALREADY ON ALL THE POSTERS.

KARKAT: ALSO I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE THE MOST CONFIDENCE IN YOUR COMMAND ABILITIES CONSIDERING THE LAST TIME I SAW YOU, YOU WERE TALKING BIG ABOUT HOW YOU WERE GOING TO TAKE DOWN LORD ENGLISH, AND NOW YOU’RE EATING DIRT ON OUR SHITTY NEW PLANET LOOKING PRETTY FUCKING DEFEATED.

KARKAT: BUT TO BE HONEST, I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET.

MEENAH: oh yea no problem

MEENAH: ill be your fuckin second guy

KARKAT: YOU WILL?

MEENAH: flip yes

KARKAT: WOW

MEENAH: yeah dude just point me at where the actions at i dont even give a fuck

MEENAH: water the orders boss

KARKAT: OK THIS IS LIKE

KARKAT: I’M NOT EVEN SURE HOW TO SAY THIS?

KARKAT: I’M ACTUALLY REALLY FLATTERED, AND KIND OF SINCERELY HONORED THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE WANT TO FOLLOW ME?

KARKAT: IT’S LIKE, COMPLETELY NOT AT ALL WHAT I...

MEENAH: youre ruining it dude

KARKAT: OH

KARKAT: FUCK. SORRY.

KARKAT: I MEAN...

KARKAT: HEY!

KARKAT: FISH ASSHOLE!

MEENAH: who me

KARKAT: YES FUCKING YOU. THE FALLEN FASCIST DIPSHIT WITH THE STOLEN RING.

KARKAT: GET THE *FUCK* IN LINE, BEFORE I *PUT* YOU IN LINE!

MEENAH: oh

MEENAH: oh wow

MEENAH: Y-ES

MEENAH: Y---ES SIR!!! 38D

MEENAH: well here comes the caviarlry

KARKAT: THE WHAT?

MEENAH: the cavia—

KARKAT: I’M ALSO FUCKING ORDERING YOU TO STOP MAKING GARBAGE FISH PUNS FOREVER.

[theoneforemotions]

Been thinking a lot lately of how much being in my parents house changes my world view. Like living here just amplifies how shit of a place the world is and I hate that I think like that. I want to be the kind of person who sees good in the darkness, in people just everywhere but it’s so ducking hard. And it’s weird too because technically I was more aware of my problems when I was at school because it was almost like looking at them from an outsider perspective because therapy, but then I suppose that’s why they seemed smaller. That and I was literally living out my childhood dream, and I think I forget that a lot like yeah I’m grieving for the place and the people who made me feel safe but also I’ve already lived the one big dream I had as a child so now the world feels really bleak. Plus I’ve just lost so many of the resources to look after myself it was all in such a confined space but my world was bigger on the inside. Yes my world was primarily confined to the school grounds but on those grounds was all my friends, adults I looked up too and who looked after me, mental and physical health resources, parental figures, a sense of worth in my head of house role. Here my world is confined to my bedroom and even that space is not my own and I hate that so fucking much it’s making my blood boil just as I write this, the fucking irony of the door I didn’t feel the need to lock from the outside had that ability but the one I want to can’t. It’s insane I have to rely on others to get me to anywhere or walk a ridiculous amount or sort it out completely on my own and I hate that I find that so hard, like I’m in physical pain but seem incapable of booking my own doctors appointment??? Why is my brain like this???

Something less morbid that I thought this morning is that Frankland was rather like a mosaic, all of us with broken pieces putting them together to make something so truly beautiful.

Also also something about the state of buildings, how did a 1933(?) house feel more soundproof than a house built in 2014??? (Cos it’s a bloody new build that’s why)

[coccyodynia]

man i fucking hate my life lol

not sure I've ever had more than 1 good day at a time

the one fucking time I try to prioritize my health and well-being I'm forced out of my job without a backup

like sure I've had good lines on my resume, people keep saying like "but look what youve accomplished!"

ok but what fucking good does that do me if I can't even get a fucking job after almost a year of seriously looking/applying

every fucking day of my life feels like torture anymore, and the things I AM proud of like the life I've built is about to crumble beneath me because I'm 30 years old and still can't fucking support myself and I've never been able to

I am in such an insane amount of debt, not even including student debt which is astronomical

my medical debt is rapidly piling up well into the thousands and I haven't paid a dime on it because I absolutely cannot afford to, so I just fucking hope and pray my doctors offices will still let me make appointments but the debt is going into collections now, my credit score has dropped like 50 points in the last year, and I feel absolutely fucking hopeless about my finances and I do not ever see it improving, I really just want to kill myself

it's such fucking bullshit because I know I am incredibly smart and motivated etc but no one believes that I am as intelligent as I am, even though I have a fucking master's degree from one of the top schools in my field, literally just because I am a young woman so I am constantly passed over for opportunities I know I would do well with

so I'll just fucking rot away in insane debt because I can't get a job that pays me what I'm worth 👍

[rabbitindisguise]

After a couple hours of self reflecting I realized that the kink group I was trying to be a part of was (through no fault of their own) contributing to my utter insanity over the past couple of months

I think the combination of trying to seek approval and emotional flashbacks just made it impossible to function. On one hand, it pushed me to talk about things I was avoiding talking about, but on the other I was avoiding talking about them because the little goblin that lives in my brain wants to sabotage everything I love by making the worst way to say things the most appealing for no reason.

And it's so easy to be like "I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine" that it's hard to notice that I'm losing out on hard won progress for . . . nothing . . .

I don't have anyone to blame but myself for it. I don't know what's worse about that: I could have prevented it and didn't, or that the worst moment of the past three years is connected to me finally being willing to talk about a minor uncomfortable thing that had been bothering me for awhile. And I can't believe I have to be grateful for even a scrap of self control that could have made the situation much worse- I could have lashed out even more, or completely destroyed any amount of respect or chance to gain respect or any affection for me whatsoever, and it's chilling. I have a migraine appointment a couple hours from now and my main focus is trying to pen myself in to not do anything else stupid, deleting all of the advice I got from generic Relationship advice from the internet and reminding myself to never google anything ever again, and just laying in like, paralyzed fear in bed.

And in some ways it finally slotted something into place that I've been trying to hammer home since forever, that if I have something that upsets me and I get clarification and it makes me feel better that's the whole fucking point. That if I trust someone more than anyone else then they're a good person for me to be around. That if someone makes me happy that is a sign that I'm loved and cared for.

I feel like for good long time I've been acting on the script I was being told that I had to do in order to not be hurt. I didn't know any other way to function. Now it's like . . . Instead of protecting myself, I need to protect the people I care about from me. And no one seems to get this. My therapist, my friends outside of people close to me- they're like "oh! You seem fine! You seem nice!" and I don't know what to do to get them to stop saying that. I wouldn't feel like I needed a reality check on what I want to say if I was a nice person. There is evidence that I am not a nice person that people refuse to accept. It makes me worry that my friends are not nice people (excluding, again, Zach who mostly just goes hmmmmmm in a reassuring way) which is the insanity again !!!! Why is my first impulse to think everyone is mean but me?

I don't know what's wrong with me! I don't know how to prevent this from happening. Every time I think I catch it, there's just a worse unexpected problem. I think I'm never going to be done. I'll always be sitting here trying to do the basic normal human person thing of not feeling the dread that something is wrong around me and I don't know what it is.

Having followers on Tumblr, trying to get approval, trying to be acceptable, respectable, to get access to resources from the government, it all makes me insane. There's some kind of undercurrent to everything that's like, if I talk to a human person in person I'm going to explode in private. And it can be panic attacks where I take it out on myself, or being cruel to people I care about, or so many other things, but there's an equal and opposite reaction to meeting people that causes this. I used to get so stressed visiting Zach (don't anymore, now it's a relief compared to Strangers) that I would spend the month after absolutely out of touch with the material plane of existence.

The unfortunate thing is the best solution I have right now is to lean into self directed panic attacks. It's the most effective way to manage things. If I spend the whole time panicking about that, there's no potential to direct it elsewhere. I'm going to have to start inducing one on purpose to get it out of my system after every scary interaction outside my house. And that's insane! It's insane. I'm tempted to not go out this weekend or ever again, frankly. I'm really scared of myself. I don't know how I could ever confuse someone I care about for something potentially dangerous to me, and I don't know why my brain reacts to people like a pathogen or something. I feel like I'm in one of those movies where someone is in a harmless situation acting like they're getting mauled because they're on a lot of drugs, or someone running through fun house mirrors, or getting sedated and confused about the doctors saying gibberish.

It's frightening that I feel like it would be super easy to get stuck in the insanity spiral again as I'm trying to untangle this. Thankfully, something reassuring is that this might just be the Enormity of a feeling I've successfully beaten back many times (fear of my parents), it was just so big it was hard to vanquish. I empathize a lot more with war veterans, I feel like I sort of get their whole . . . everything about stuff sometimes. For now I just know that home is safe, and everything else is Scary.

I am definitely taking a Lyft tomorrow to avoid going on the bus.

[shinigamiringo]

New year new death :D

So I have pretty much always failed my resolutions. There’s so much I want to learn and do, and so ofc like a normal adult I try to cram it all into one month and get overwhelmed then give up and beat myself up. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do right? 😂 But! While this year might not be too different, I have decided to cram less into the resolution part and not commit sudoku if I fail. Because I probably will. A lot. At this point though, I need something to change or I will just be a dog chasing its’ tail. I get too dizzy for that so fuck that noise. So, I’ve decided to try this in terms of quarters- that is, 4 separate parts of the year with each quarter building upon itself. My resolutions are pretty small too, so hopefully that will help a bit. Without further ado:

Q1:

1. Learn and understand all 2000 jouyou kanji.

I’ve been trying to learn Japanese since about the time the dinosaurs roamed, and with that amount of time I should have been fluent already. Sadly, I am not. Obviously. So instead of putting a goal of “become native level fluent,” my goal is just to learn the Jouyou Kanji. I do have some things to build on for that, but right now my goal is just to be able to read and since kanji has always been a huge road block I thought tackling that would be pretty helpful. 

To help with this goal, I will be using a few different resources that I have hoarded through the years: Wanikani, A Guide to Remembering Japanese Characters, Renshuu, and Memrise. Wanikani goes too slow for the time I have to accomplish this, so it will mainly be used as a reinforcer. Resnhuu and Memrise will be both reinforcers and learning resources, while A Guide will be my main focus.

2. Work out at least 2x a week

The gym and I have always had a weird relationship. I love working out when I’m there but getting there is the insanely hard part. I get tired as soon as I sit down and then distract myself for too long. I also don’t want to work out before I go to work only because I’m afraid I won’t have time. Yes, I am the person who has an appointment so makes no other plans for the day 🥲

With that in mind, I have a few different things to help out: I have teas to drink so I can lower/ completely cut out soda consumption, Fit boxing/Ringfit for the switch, a step/ swinging thing called dipda, and ofc some youtube videos. This gives me plenty of options if I don’t want to go to the gym. If I do make it to the gym, I plan on just focusing on getting my mile below 18 minutes. God, if my teen self saw my time they would throw me off a roof 😭

3. Floss, brush, and mouthwash everyday

OK, so ngl I debated putting this in here but since I’m shouting into the void it probably won’t be too bad. Anyway, due to depresso I’ve had trouble being consistent with my dental hygiene. Is it gross? Yes, but that’s what happens when you feel like shit and even getting out of bed is a exhausting. If you don’t understand what I mean, you’ve obviously never been to that dark place and while I applaud you, don’t judge me for my amount of spoons. hmph. 

To help with this, I figured putting on a podcast I like as I listen would be a good way to encourage that, and only listening to it when I do my teeth. I have quite a few on backlog but decided to either use Behind the Bastards or Let’s Not meet. I’m not sure yet tbh, but having 2 to choose from will probably be better so I won’t get bored. Also, since I can only listen to the chosen podcast during the washup process, I might actually encourage myself to do a face routine and teeth routine day and night. Hope springs eternal!

There are a few other things I want to add on there, like drink 64oz of water  everyday, a drawing course, and a calligraphy course (already bought and delivered, thank goodness) but I don’t want to make the same mistake again so these 3 are the main focus for this quarter. Hopefully, I can update everyday to show progress, but if I don’t then I’ll focus on washing my spoons. Let’s go, 2023 D:<

[mypoisonedvine]

A Year Gone By | dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

happy birthday @nsfwsebbie​!!

it was supposed to be a surprise but then I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I was writing something, I managed to keep most of it under wraps though!  I hope the suspense pays off.  

idk if it’s weird that i made it a doctor reader when you’re not a doctor but listen...half the fun of reader insert is getting to vicariously live through a cool career right??  the other half of the fun is the obvious thing.  and it seemed a little creepy if i made the reader exactly like you but if you want it to be more accurate i will totally write you something with actual you in it lol

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy it and most of all I hope you have a lovely, relaxing, fun birthday.  and i hope it makes you h word lmao.  ily darling <3

warnings: noncon, dubcon, stalking/kidnapping, ddlg, loss of virginity, bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, d/s, pet play, degradation, painful sex/pain kink, cockwarming, breeding, somnophilia (slightly), spitting, pregnancy mention, breeding kink, mention of drugging... I think that’s everything.

word count: just over 15.5k (YIIIIKES my bad)

Bucky always looked forward to appointments with you.  It wasn’t just because he had a crush on you, honest; you really were the best doctor he ever had.  Then again, between chain-smoking Brooklyn doctors who handed out morphine like candy and cruel Nazi or Soviet scientists, you weren’t competing with anybody too incredible.

“It’s not so bad,” he bluffed, but he couldn’t hide the wince when you touched his bruise.

“You’re not a very good liar, Sergeant,” you told him with a smile.  God, he loved when you called him that.  He hoped his body wouldn’t react to it in any uncomfortably obvious ways.  “Honestly, I’m a little worried about the bones.  I want to do an X-ray, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” he shrugged, “but you’re probably worrying too much.”

“You plan to walk off a compound fracture?” you scoffed.

“Bet I could, if you kiss it to make it better,” he smiled.  He was expecting you to giggle a little at the casual flirtation, which you did, but he was surprised when you bit your lip at the end of it.  That made it impossible to stop his cock from getting a bit interested, but thankfully it was still easy enough to hide.  Clearly his casual flirting was starting to get to you, and it made him especially impatient but he tried to stay calm.

“I’m a good doctor, but I’m not that good.  A prescription will do more for you,” you replied as you wrote something in his chart-- presumably that he needed to go down the hall for some x-ray work.

“If you say so.”

“Anything else bothering you?” you asked him.

“Oh, no, I won’t waste your time,” he dismissed.

“I’m getting paid, don’t worry,” you laughed.  “I don’t have any more appointments until after lunch.  Is there anything else going on?”

He shifted a little, the paper on the examination table crinkling as he did it.  “Um… it’s nothing, I just--” he glanced up at you but then looked away again, still embarrassed to admit it-- “I’ve had a little trouble sleeping…”

“Nightmares?” you pressed.  “Or general insomnia?”

“Um, nightmares,” he finally admitted, “not as bad as normal.  The meds helped.  Just… I still get them sometimes.”

“How many nights a week would you guess?” you asked.  But you didn’t look to his chart like it was a quiz or something, you kept looking at him with patience and compassion.  That was what really made his heart melt.

“Probably 2 or 3.”

“So we’re down from 6 to 7,” you remembered from what he’d said before you’d given him the medication he was on now, “that’s good.  That’s progress.  But, maybe we need to up your dosage if you haven’t seen better results after 4 weeks.  You haven’t missed any doses, have you?”

He tried to fight his embarrassed smirk but it was too late.

“Bucky!” you scolded playfully.  “I can’t up your dosage until you’re actually being consistent on the amount you already have, okay?  I know it can be easy to forget but you have to stay on it.  Set a timer on your phone or something if you need to.”

He nodded, but the problem wasn’t forgetting to take them as much as it was being ashamed that he needed them at all.  But he’d stay on them if it made you happy.

“Anything else?  Headache, twisted ankle, burns when you pee?”

He laughed and shook his head.  “No, I think that’s everything.”

“Great, then I’ll let you get to your newly-booked X-ray appointment.”  You handed him a sheet of paper for him to take to the X-ray office which informed the nurses there what angles you wanted on his ribs.  “Just know that you can call me if you need anything, alright?”

He took the slip of paper but suddenly couldn’t respond, too lost in looking at you and wondering if you’d felt that same jolt of electricity when his hand brushed yours.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“You take care of so many people,” Bucky pondered aloud, “I just wonder if someone takes care of you.”

He could tell by your face that you didn’t like the way his tone shifted, but he refused to backpedal.  Just this once, he wanted to see you squirm a little bit.  

“Wanna lollipop?” you asked him nervously as you handed him the plastic-wrapped red sucker in offering, but he waved it away.  

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how you would look with the cherry lollipop in your mouth: the way it would push your cheek out from the inside, stain your lips and tongue bright red, make your mouth taste like pure sugar.  

Of all the things he’d imagined before, that was the one that made him realize it couldn’t just be a fantasy anymore.  Thankfully, he hadn’t just been thinking of all the filthy things he wanted to do to you; he’d also been coming up with a plan.

~

The first thing you perceived when you woke up was the smell.  It didn’t smell like your room.  Such a simple difference, one you hadn’t even realized you would notice, but one that stood out instantly.

You opened your eyes and instantly spun your head around when you saw the grey cement room you were in.  The bed underneath you creaked, unlike your bed, and you looked down at it as if you somehow expected to be in an unknown room but still be in your own bed.  

It was then that you realized you were restrained with, of all things, satiny pink rope which pulled each of your limbs to the nearest bedpost.  There was enough slack that you could wiggle around some, but it wasn’t exactly roomy either.  Your heart raced as you pondered who could have possibly done this, and why.

You startled when you heard the door open, but relaxed when the menacing form suddenly struck you as familiar.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief, “oh thank god you’re here-- quick, help untie me.”

As soon as you said it, though, you realized something wasn’t right.  He didn’t look concerned at all, or confused.  And that should be a good thing because it meant he had answers, except that you were suddenly realizing this was more complex than you were prepared for.

“Bucky… where are we?” you asked him, quieter, as you realized that he was not going to untie you immediately.  Even still you were coming to terms with the possibility that it wasn’t really a matter of where we were and where, specifically, you were.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered simply, stepping closer.

You didn’t exactly believe that.  

“Please, help untie me,” you requested again.

“I will,” he assured, “but I want to explain something first.”

Your heart sank straight through your stomach.  You didn’t understand what was going on quite yet, but you were getting the gist enough to know that this was really fucking bad.

“Bucky,” you pleaded as he sat down beside you on the bed, “please let me go.”  You felt very aware of how thin your pajama set was, how if he tried hard enough he could see your nipples hardening underneath your top for no apparent reason.

“Don’t get upset,” he soothed, “everything’s fine.  I’m not going to hurt you-- nobody will anymore.  You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your eyes burned with tears you couldn’t fight anymore.  “Don’t do this,” you begged, “I’m your friend-- we’re friends, remember?”

“Of course I know that,” he sighed, “but that’s not enough.  Couldn’t you tell I’d fallen in love with you?”

You shook your head, trying to process everything you were hearing.  “This is insane.  This is not what you do when you have feelings for somebody, Bucky.”

“What, you’re saying I should’ve just asked you out?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes-- because you’re my patient--”

“See?  That’s what the ropes are for!” he smiled, like he was actually proud of his problem-solving skills.  “You would’ve said yes if you could, I know.  But you couldn’t.  And now you don’t have to.”

You resented that he was right, that you would’ve dated him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t an ethical violation.  You got the sense there were going to be even more severe ethical violations in your future, though.

You continued to beg him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears as he reached under the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts and pulled them down slowly.  He gasped when he saw your pussy and you wished you could just disappear, turn invisible or, best of all, teleport out of here; anything to avoid this humiliation.

“Baby, you’re wet,” he observed.  You weren’t sure if the first or second half of the sentence made you more uncomfortable, but either way, you couldn’t stop the shivers from dancing up your spine.  “This all for me?  Do you like being tied up?”

You refused to answer, looking to the side as if the concrete wall was suddenly fascinating to you, but he grabbed your jaw and turned you to look at him.

“I know you don’t know all the rules yet, but here’s the first one, and maybe the most important: answer me when I speak to you.”

It was cold but not quite threatening; still scared you senseless, though.  You nodded.

“Do you like being tied up?” he repeated.

“N-no,” you answered.

“Answer honestly,” he specified.

You had, but you realized it was going to be safer to do what he wanted, so you cleared your throat and spoke again.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I like… being tied up.”

“That’s it?” he pressed.  “It’s not me being here, is it?  You never got wet when you saw me in appointments?”

This was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated.  It seemed like there was no right answer.

“Didja ever get wet for somebody else?  It was Steve, wasn’t it?”

“No!” you instinctively answered.  “Um, I like Steve.  But just as a friend.”

“Aw,” he smiled, “I knew you were the loyal type.  Remember just a minute ago when you were begging me to stop cause you were my friend?  I think you were lying then too, doll.  You didn’t want to be just friends with me.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it,” you grimaced.  “I’m getting irritated.”

You yelped when he slapped the inside of your thigh, trying to pull away but only making it easier for him to dip under your leg so that he was between them, sitting back on the bed in front of you.

“Respect gets you a long way with me,” he promised, pulling a knife from a strap on his thigh and using it to quickly cut off the shorts.  “Sass does not.”

You winced as he slipped a finger into you-- metal, and it was cold, too.  Soothed the burn a bit, at least.

“Oh god,” he sighed, “just one finger and it barely fits…”  You watched realization pass over his face as his gaze moved to your eyes.  “Baby, are you a virgin?”

You closed your eyes because you knew they would reveal the truth.  In all honesty it was probably better that he knew so there was at least some chance of him going easy on you, and yet you were still embarrassed for him to find out.

“Oh, you’re going to spoil me,” he grinned.  “You really are too good to be true.”

A second finger pushed into you and a bite to the lip suppressed your moan.  

“I’ll warm you up first, don’t worry,” he cooed.  “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then why did you tie me up?”

“That’s for your safety, baby.  I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” he clarified.

A third finger, immediately after you had adjusted to the second.  You had never had so much inside you before and it made you feel a bit dizzy.  His thumb grazed over your clit and you nearly jumped right off the bed as your hips bucked suddenly-- since when were you so sensitive?!

“Oh, poor little baby, you need it so bad,” he faux-pouted.  You couldn’t tell if it was a mockery or genuine concern.  “You’ll get it angel, don’t worry.  Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

That word made you feel a little sick.  No wonder he needed to kidnap girls to get his rocks off, clearly this was the kind of stuff a normal date wouldn’t agree to.

Then again, it was Bucky Barnes.  He could probably get any girl he wanted, even if he had some weird tastes.  You still didn’t understand why it had to be you, specifically.  

His thumb stayed on your clit, the pressure moving from teasing to firm to nearly too much.  You tried to angle your hips away but the ropes stopped you (of course), and you were forced to take every sensation he gave you.

“You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, just let go,” he encouraged.  “I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

“Maybe I’m just naturally quiet,” you bluffed, but even just those few words were strained, and surrounded by panting as you failed to catch your breath.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true.  I’ve heard you when you thought you were alone, doll.”

You knew what he must have meant, but it still made you whimper when he leaned in to whisper in your ear: “I heard you touching yourself.”

Your face was burning and you were sure you’d never blushed so hard in your life.  You couldn’t be sure how much he’d heard, but just the way he smiled down at you made you sure he must have heard the times that his name passed your lips as you reached your peak.  

Of course he couldn’t just let you stew in that, he had to mock you even further.

“Oh Bucky,” he recalled, raising the pitch of his voice a little, “please let me come, I’m so close, please…”

“Stop,” you begged, tears sliding down your temples.  The fingers twisted inside you as both of you groaned.

“Yeah, it’s not a very good impression,” he sighed, “it’ll sound better when you do it.  Don’t you wanna moan for me again?”

“You stalked me,” you realized aloud, “you spied on me at night, you kidnapped me--”

“And now we’re both getting what we want.  I know you wished it was my fingers instead of yours.  Doesn’t it feel good baby?  Admit it.  Tell me it feels good.”

You were determined to resist until he pulled his fingers out and used the metal hand to slap your pussy, both of you gasping at the wet noise it made.  He did it again and your hips bucked wildly even as you were trying with everything in you not to react.  One more and you finally moaned, the pain brief but strong while the pleasure never seemed to lessen.

“Just be honest,” he demanded, “I know you love it.  I just need you to say it.”

One more spank and you were finally willing to cut your losses.  “It feels good!” you exclaimed.  You cried out when he hit you again, not having seen it coming at all since you’d done as he asked.  “Say it again.”

“It feels good, Bucky, your fingers feel good,” you whimpered.

He finally seemed to calm down, giving you an oddly friendly smile.  “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head, just trying to appreciate the stillness while you could.  

“One little thing though: you don’t call me Bucky anymore.  My friends call me Bucky; you’re so much more special than that.  You’re my perfect little angel, and you call me Daddy.”

You saw it coming, but it didn’t make it any less awful.  You squirmed a bit as he pushed up your top, biting his lip when he got a glimpse of your breasts.

“Oh, when did these get hard, huh?” he smiled as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

“It’s… cold in here,” you explained uncomfortably.

“Uh huh,” he pretended to believe you.  “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to warm you up.”

He let go of your tits so he could pull back and start undoing his belt; you swallowed dryly, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Of course he was big.  It explained his personality, and you’d had your suspicions (and/or fantasies), but now all it did was scare you.

“Will it hurt?” you asked weakly.  He smiled as he pulled off his shirt from behind his neck, tossing it aside.  

“No baby, I stretched you with my fingers so you can take me.  Might be a little bit of an adjustment at first, but we’ll go slow, okay?”

You couldn’t decide if it was sweet or patronizing.  A little of both, perhaps.

He leaned over you, resting one hand beside your head as the other guided his cock to rub through your folds.  You struggled again, barely able to process that this was actually going to happen, that you were going to lose your virginity tied up in some creepy sex dungeon to an obsessive patient who demanded you call him ‘Daddy.’  This wasn’t exactly the situation you had been saving it for.

“Ready for me, baby?  Want me to make you mine?” he asked with a look of excitement, even vulnerability.  Your body craved more after he’d left you dangling on the edge from his fingering, but your brain was thankfully still functioning properly.

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “you can stop now, and I won’t tell anyone, and--”

“Baby, don’t talk like that,” he frowned.  “This is it, okay?  Us.  Just us.  Nobody else to get in the way.  You’re not gonna tell anyone ‘cause there’s no one to tell.”

“You can’t,” you denied, “I have a life-- people who care about me, who are going to notice that I’m gone--”

“No, babygirl, stop-- you’re not listening to me,” he growled.  “Stop fighting.  You’re mine.  You’re finally where you belong.”

“This is crazy,” you spat, “you’re crazy!”

“Baby…” he looked dejected, crestfallen.  “You’re the only one who’s ever helped me feel normal again.  If I’m crazy it’s only because I love you so much; I need you, doll.”

“You need intensive psychiatric care!”

Sadness shifted to anger as he sat back and stuffed his cock back into his trousers, even though it barely fit now that it was fully hard and leaking from the tip.

“I realize now I’ve given you more than you can handle.  I knew you liked me back so I figured you would understand a little sooner but… I should’ve known you need more time before you really admit to yourself that you need someone to take care of you.”

Your relief shifted to fear when he stood back up off the bed and stepped away.

“Wait, don’t leave me here,” you squeaked, “untie me, please.”

Instead he knelt down and pulled a box out from under the bed.  You couldn’t see what was inside when he opened it, but he seemed to find what he was looking for when he pulled out a vibrator and shut the lid.  It was thin and a little curved, so when he roughly shoved it into you it hit right on your g-spot.  You tried to squirm away but he held your hips down and turned it on to a setting that strobed the vibrations, teasing your spot but never giving you enough to get very far.

“I’ll come back when I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he informed you quickly as he started to leave the room.

“Bucky-- Bucky wait!” you called after him.  “There’s no food or water you can’t leave me here wait don’t go BUCKY!”

But he was long gone.  The door slammed behind him and echoed around the room; only when the sound was completely dead were you sure that he wasn’t coming back any time soon.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity of you wiggling against the ropes, trying to either knock the vibrator out of you somehow or get it to move enough that you could at least come and feel some relief.  Trying to push it out with your muscles was useless since the curved shape kept it inside of you, and you couldn’t arch your back enough to press it into the bed-- and if you could, you weren’t sure what good that would do.

Every once in a while the vibration would echo through your clit and it made your eyes water.  You sobbed and bit your lip, hoping he would come back soon.

It was at least twice as long before he did, and at that point your voice had gone hoarse from calling out to him.  You cried out for Bucky at least a hundred times and got nothing; but when you called for ‘Daddy’ just once, he suddenly appeared.

Somehow his return didn’t bring much relief, because you weren’t exactly safe with him around… but at least you weren’t alone.

He reached between your legs and turned the vibrator off, though he left it inside of you.  You took a deep breath and appreciated the stillness, though your body panged with hunger from so much pleasure with no release.

“I hated doing that to you,” he breathed deeply as he sat beside you on the bed, “but it had to be done.  You were behaving so poorly.  I’ve gone easy on you up until now but I can’t tolerate any more rebelliousness, alright?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his disappointment sink over you.  

When he pulled out the vibrator, the tip of it grazed over your abused and sensitive g-spot and you bit back a groan.  He set it aside and admired the mess you’d made; you couldn’t see it, of course, but you could tell that there was a wet patch of arousal beneath you on the sheets.

“Your body is ready for me, but I’m not sure your mind is right yet,” he explained, steely gaze finally meeting yours.  “Are you going to be good, little girl?”

You were too exhausted to notice the nickname, or even to speak your reply.  You just nodded again, watching him as he started unlacing his boots and slipped them off, then took his socks, trousers, and underwear off along with them.

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten how big he was.  You swallowed with a dry throat and closed your eyes, just hoping it would be over with quickly.  

“Open your eyes babygirl, I wanna look at you,” he murmured, running a finger across your cheek.  You reluctantly obeyed and saw him hovering above you.  He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and it felt so wrong, so empty and peculiar.  It was a weak facsimile of what a kiss was supposed to be like.  He closed his eyes and ran his fingers into your hair, and it had all the trappings of the kind of kiss you’d share as a goodbye after a first or second date, but without any of the stuff that mattered like positive feelings or consent or not being in a creepy cement sex dungeon-- or whatever this was supposed to be.

He pulled away and looked down at you again, anger just starting to brew in his eyes.  “Kiss me back,” he demanded.  This time when he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue slid between them and it made you feel a little sick but you did your best to reciprocate.  You found yourself trying to reach up to put your hands on his hair or neck but of course, the ropes made it impossible.

You felt his cock pressing between your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly, and your heart began to race.  One hand slid between your bodies to guide his cock towards your entrance and he said something but you couldn’t hear it because your ears were ringing.  

As soon as he pushed into you, your body jolted, trying to squirm away, but he just kept going, sliding into you in one long stroke.

Physically, it wasn’t painful.  The vibrator had helped relax your walls, even numbed them a little bit.  And yet, even without pain it was so much.  You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, like you were so full you couldn’t even breathe.  

When he was fully seated inside you, Bucky moaned deeply, kissing your neck and mumbling something about how perfect you were.  But all you could focus on was his cock pulling back only to slam home again.  

“Fuck!” you yelped.  You had no idea anything could be so deep inside you.  

“Watch your language, angel,” he purred, biting at your earlobe.  “You promised to be good, remember?”

The hand that had been gripping your thigh suddenly moved to rub your clit and you choked on a moan.  

“It’s okay, it’s supposed to feel good,” he encouraged.  “It’s okay to come, baby.  I know how bad you wanna come for me.”

You were embarrassingly close as he had observed, a side effect of having been left on the edge for so long.  You could feel your walls rippling around him, and you wondered if he could feel it, too.  Every thrust stroked parts of you that you hadn’t even realized existed, and when he pushed as deep as he could into you, the tip of his cock hit something so sensitive that you genuinely couldn’t tell if it was painful or pleasurable.  

“Are you close?  I don’t know how much longer I can last, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  “Fuck, you want me to fill you up don’t you?  Wanna be full of Daddy’s cum?”

Before you could even consider ignoring his question, he wrapped his left hand around your neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” you croaked through the weight on your windpipe, “fill me up, please.”

Talking like that made your heart twist with shame but somehow pushed you even closer to your peak.  You knew he could tell that you were turned on by it from the way your muscles tightened around him.

“I will baby, I promise,” he smiled.  “Do you wanna beg to come, like you did when you were by yourself?”

You moaned because it was like a fantasy come true, in a monkey’s paw sort of way.  This is what you had wanted, right?  Just… in a way completely different from how it was turning out?

“Daddy, please,” you answered, so quiet and heavy with embarrassment that it was barely above a whisper, “please let me come.”

“Oh fuck,” he responded hoarsely as his thrusts came faster, more ragged.  “Come, princess.  I wantcha to scream for me.”

As you started to fall over the edge, you felt like you had lost control over your body; your arms and legs tugged at the ropes as jolts of pleasure coursed through them, and your mouth was spilling moans and whimpers and even his name.  His real name, specifically, though he thankfully didn’t seem to mind.  He kissed you again as he came, moaning into your lips and still inside you.  

You felt cold and sticky and humiliated as he sat up and pulled out, admiring the way your hole leaked out his seed and flexed involuntarily around nothing.

“Oh look at you,” he praised, “my perfect little girl.  You’re even more amazing than I dreamed, doll.”

You tried not to listen or watch him as he got off the bed, coming back with boxers on and a damp washcloth to clean you.

“I’m gonna untie you now, okay?  Promise you won’t kick me or anything?” 

You quickly nodded, willing to promise anything if it meant getting untied.  “You’ll just do more harm to you than to me if you try anything, angel,” he reminded you quickly as he started work on your right ankle.  The ropes were silky so they hadn’t been rubbing your skin too raw, but there was still soreness from the tight knots.  You were a bit surprised when he gave your ankle and foot a brief massage once he was done untying the rope, and did the same to your other foot, and then your wrists and hands.  It helped a lot with getting the blood flow back to normal, and you almost considered thanking him but that would’ve been ridiculous.  ‘Hey, thanks for the foot massage, next time don’t tie me up and rape me first but, otherwise 10/10.’  

~

Bucky was so impressed with the progress you’d made in a week.  Only two escape attempts and you’d taken your punishment quite well both times.  He had expected a rocky start, he’d understood what he was getting himself into, so none of it really came as a surprise.  You’d managed to get a good crack at his nose once, kicking him straight between the eyes before making a run for it.  Yes, it hurt like a bitch and took a few days to heal, but it had actually been a blessing in disguise; that day you’d made it out the front door and realized that you were in the middle of nowhere.  When he’d caught up to you, you were standing barefoot and half-naked in the snow, not even running anymore because, apparently, you’d realized there was nowhere to run to.  

“I built this place for us, for you,” he explained.  “Somewhere far away, all to ourselves.  Nobody for miles.”

“How many miles?”

He chuckled a bit to himself.  “Baby, it’s a really big number.  You’re too little to understand.”

Normally you resisted that sort of talk but this time it shut you up.  Hopefully you were beginning to properly realize that this was your new life.

“Are we in New York?” you asked, quieter.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you that yet.  I don’t want you to get any complicated ideas in that pretty little head,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for emphasis before leaving you behind to start cooking dinner.

“I’m not eating with these,” you announced firmly as he set your place at the table with a set of pink, rubber-coated utensils.  

“It’s too messy to eat with your hands,” he frowned.

“Do you honestly not realize that I want to eat with normal utensils?  Or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

Bucky set your plate down a little too firmly, making you and the food on top jump.  “Don’t talk back to me.”  

“I just… it’ll take me forever to finish an adult-sized portion of food with child-sized utensils.”

“Then maybe you’re not ready for an adult-sized portion,” he threatened.  That seemed to get your attention, but you stayed quiet.  “Maybe you’re not hungry at all?”

“I’m hungry,” you denied.  “Please, I want to eat.”

“And I want to eat with you.  But this roundabout is getting on my last nerve, doll.  Now are you gonna be good and eat your dinner?”

“...yes, Daddy,” you sighed.  He smiled and sat down across from you.  You were learning.  Slowly, but surely.

Bath time was always a fight, though.  You still had some ridiculous notions about ‘privacy’ and ‘autonomy’ and crap like that, and it meant that you were likely to act up and refuse to be washed.

“I can do it myself!”

“But you don’t have to, don’t you see?”

“I want to.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around what you want, angel.”

“Let me guess: it revolves around what you want?” “No,” Bucky shook his head and tried to summon some more patience, “I have to take care of you.  Sometimes that means doing things you don’t like, because I know what’s best for you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled as you turned away, and that really broke his heart.  He knew you didn’t really mean it, but it still hurt.

“Baby… don’t say that,” he pleaded as he turned your face to him.  “It hurts Daddy’s feelings when you say things like that.”

“Yes, that was the idea,” you hissed.  “I just want to take a shower, alone.”

“Any chance you had at that is long gone,” he grimaced.  “What you’re getting is a bath, with me, and if you quit this attitude now you might still be able to avoid getting a spanking as well, do you understand?”

Your shoulders slumped as you nodded.  He knew your poor little bottom was still sore from the last spanking, and as he helped you undress for the bath, he could still see a few welts along the skin.  He kissed them quickly, a reminder to both of you what he was capable of, before helping you into the water and slipping in behind you.  It was spacious, so there was ample room for the two of you, but he still held you close and pressed your back into his chest.  

He had a lot of ideas about what you two could do in this bath, but he knew that now was not the time.  Still, he let his mind wander and smiled to himself when you gasped from his erection pressing into your thigh.

He helped you wash your hair, and for that moment where your head was nearly submerged and he was using his fingers to massage out the shampoo, you looked so peaceful.  He normally only got to appreciate this look on your face as you slept, but you were almost smiling this time, and it made his heart sing.  A week of tantrums was worth it for just a few quiet moments like this.

“I’m gonna let you finish up on your own, okay?  I trust you not to do anything dangerous…” he decided as he stepped out.  

“Really?” your face instantly lit up.  Sure, you’re never supposed to leave them alone in the bath, but he was feeling extra generous and he sympathized with your desire for control.  Freedom could be good for you, in moderation.

“Of course.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” you awkwardly responded.

He dried off and dressed, and waited nearby in the living room, listening to you drain the bathwater and start a shower.    

You emerged wrapped in a towel and looking slightly lost.

"Honey, where are your clothes?" he asked you with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you informed him.  Oh, right.  You were being resistant to wearing the clothes he had picked out for you.  Apparently you found the overwhelming presence of baby pink to be tacky, and you hated that everything was cute and tiny… he couldn't understand seeing something cute and tiny and not liking it.  After all, you were the most adorable thing he'd laid eyes on and it made it impossible not to like you.  You just needed clothes to match.

“I have clothes laid out for you,” he explained.

“I’d rather be naked than wear what you pick for me,” you snarled.

“Hey, I wouldn’t complain,” he shrugged, trying to suppress his frustration.  “Don’t come bitchin’ to me when you’re cold, though.”

You sat next to him on the couch, defiantly naked and confidently ignoring him.  He admired your stubbornness, or at least he found it amusing.

“Do you wanna watch a movie now?” he asked, but he knew you had figured out that this was a mandatory activity.

“Don’t see any reason to wait,” you smiled sarcastically.

Of course, when he got up to show you some DVDs so you could pick what you wanted (Wall-E; he knew you didn’t actually want to watch that since your typical fare was horror and action movies, but it was your favorite of the options), he quickly turned down the thermostat.  Perhaps a comfortable 55 Fahrenheit would help you remember why it’s important to take what Daddy gives you.

He hadn’t seen Wall-E before but he found it oddly relatable.  A robot, built for someone else’s purpose, abandoned in a filthy, empty world… it brought back some old feelings that he managed to press back down.  

Regardless, he was distracted from it when he could literally feel you shivering from across the couch.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked presumptuously.

“No,” you denied, barely managing to suppress the chattering of your teeth.

“Do you want the clothes?” 

“Shut up.”

He just laughed a little to himself, ignoring your rude language and turning back to the TV.

It did kill him a bit to have to pretend he didn’t care when you were obviously uncomfortable, but you would’ve been even more irritated with him if he’d held you down and forced you to put the outfit on.

~

This fucker was smart, you’d give him that.  Or maybe it was just that you were stupid.  Not stupid, really, but having no sense of self-preservation.  Why had you chosen this hill to die on?  You couldn’t even remember why you’d put up a fight at all.  You were so cold that you couldn’t even understand what could’ve ever compelled you to reject an offer of clothes.  Didn’t help that you knew he was so close, that if you cuddled up to him you would be warm, but that it would mean the loss of your last shred of dignity.

Only a week and you were starting to completely lose your sense of yourself.  You searched within and couldn’t find any of the fight you’d had so many times before.  You remembered that time you kicked him right in the face, and where you once found pride at the memory, you found guilt.  You felt guilty for hurting him, after everything he’d done to you-- why?

“B-bucky…” you finally relented not even an hour into the movie, stammering from the force of your shivers.

“Hm?”

“I want… I want the c-clothes.”

He smiled a little, in an insulting way.  “Ask nicely, doll.”

“P-please, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He came back with the clothes in hand, but when you reached out for them, he shook his head and motioned for you to stand up.  You sighed but obeyed, your entire body shaking with violent shivers as your bare feet hit the cool concrete floor.  

He knelt down, holding the lace panties open for you as you shyly stepped into them.  He pulled them up to your hips and let the elastic slap your skin a little as he let go, making you jump.  He did the same with the fuzzy pink pyjama pants, running his hands over soft fabric for just a second as he stood up, helping you into the loose grey sweatshirt.  It was the least feminine thing he’d ever let you wear, noticeably absent in anything pink or fuzzy or girly or adorned with bows.  You only realized as it slipped over your head that it was his, because once you plunged into darkness inside of it, you were overwhelmed with the smell of him.  You wouldn’t have known that you could recognize his smell, but now that you were in it, it was undeniable.

You were almost surprised to see him when your head popped through the neckline, somehow.  It’s not as if you had forgotten he was there in the three seconds you couldn’t see him, just that he looked so different to you now.  He had this stoic, nearly stern look on his face as he helped you get your hands through the sleeves, and the way he caressed your fingers as they emerged from the cotton was so upsettingly tender.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, and he looked back at your face.  

“Is this better?  Are you warmer?”

“My feet…” you realized, looking down at them.  

“I’ll get you some socks, baby,” he nodded, dashing away for a moment.  You felt colder with him gone.  It couldn’t be loneliness, could it?  Even knowing he’d only be gone less than a minute, you were unduly anxious for his return.

He came back and held your feet up by the ankle one at a time as he rolled pink fuzzy socks-- with lace at the ankle, of course-- over your feet.  You wiggled your toes into them, finally feeling like you’d be able to get warm again.

“Let’s finish the movie, okay?” he suggested, rubbing his hands on your arms.  You nodded, allowing him to guide you back to the couch and finding yourself cuddling into his side as he laid an arm over your shoulders.

You barely managed to pay attention as you felt his hand slip lower, resting on your waist.  Then your hip, then your thigh.

Something about the way the lace panties rubbed against your pussy made you feel so oddly sensitive, and even the inside of his sweatshirt was just rough enough to make your nipples react every time you adjusted your position.

You figured he realized your condition pretty quickly, but he didn’t react until a moan, so quiet that you were sure he wouldn’t hear it, passed your lips.

“Everything alright, doll?” he asked, failing to hide the fact that he clearly knew the answer.

You didn’t respond, distracted by his other hand reaching over and stroking your thigh.  You were caged in his embrace now, and your heart raced in a way that was oddly lacking in fear.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he demanded, watching your nervous reaction to his intensity.

“Daddy I… I feel tingly,” you murmured, feeling yourself blush.

“Where, baby?”

“D-down there,” you admitted as you forced your eyes shut, too embarrassed to look him in the face as you said it.

“You need Daddy’s help?”

“Please,” you whispered, hating yourself a little for needing him but too desperate to really care.

In one motion he’d already turned the TV off, pulled you onto his lap, and started kissing where the baggy neckline of the sweatshirt exposed your collarbone.

You were rubbing yourself on his thigh and you didn’t even know how to stop.  It felt so good.  It made your skin warm up even faster as you recovered from the cold.  

He slipped his right hand into your pants as the other pulled you closer until your face was buried in his neck.  If there was anything worth appreciating about Bucky, it was how good he was with his fingers.  He knew your body better than you did at this point-- but then again, he had spent so much time exploring it in one week that he was probably competing with you already in terms of practice time.  

“Oh my god,” you moaned as his fingers moved faster and firmer, making your hips jerk forward unexpectedly.  

“It feels good?” he asked in that way that made it obvious he knew the answer.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whimpered.  You’d gotten pretty good by now at appeasing him by performing the role he wanted you to play… so good, in fact, that it was starting to feel very real.

Just as you were grabbing onto his shoulders to hold you steady through your orgasm, he was pulling out his hand and reaching for his own pants instead.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained quickly as he pushed them down and revealed his hard, leaking cock.  “I need to be inside you when I make you come.”

He helped you slide off your pants and underwear but pulled you back into his lap the absolute second they were discarded.  He slid you down onto his cock with a groan, and your face was so hot as you processed how wet you were, how easily he entered you.  Your joy halted, though, when he held your hips down.  You tried to wiggle around for some friction but he was so strong that it was a complete waste.

“Daddy,” you mumbled with confusion, “what are you doing?”

“You’re mine, baby, ‘m gonna use you how I please,” he reminded you darkly, “and right now I want you to stay still and wait.”

“But--” 

He slapped your ass harshly, and you whimpered but decided not to put up much more of a fight.

All the while as you tried to stay still, he was kissing your neck and jaw and cheeks, murmuring praises and leaving the softest bite marks every once in a while.

“Please let me move,” you sobbed against his shoulder, having to fight everything in you not to start grinding on him like your life depended on it.

“I’m not ready yet,” he denied.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you whimpered.  “I’ll do anything.  I just need to come, and I need to make you come, please…”

With a hand on either side of your hips, he started to move you on top of him, excruciatingly slow.  Your head fell back from how wonderful just that felt.  

“Anything?  You’re gonna spoil me talking like that, doll.”

“Oh god, anything, just move a little faster, please,” you begged.  Of course you knew it was a bad idea, and you figured you were going to regret saying it, but your need was surpassing your sanity at the moment.

He grabbed your face and pulled you down until your lips were almost brushing his, but not quite.  “Keep riding my cock, babygirl.”  You nodded, finally free to pick up the pace to where you wanted it, and you bit your lip as his cock stretched you exactly how you needed it to.

“Daddy, you feel so good inside me,” you moaned.

“I can tell,” he smiled, “you’re making those perfect noises, it’s killing me not to flip you over and fuck you so hard right now.”

You were much more inspired by that mental image than you expected to be.  Those few times he’d gotten really rough with you, it had made you so wet you thought you might get dehydrated.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low that it sounded like a growl, echoing in his chest and making shivers run up your spine.  “I know what I want you to do for me.”

You swallowed and braced yourself as he pulled you even closer, looking right into your eyes.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded.

You gasped, tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes.  It was the last thing you expected, but it also tracked.  Of course that was what he wanted.  But now that you were trying to form words and nothing would come out, you were kind of wishing he’d just said he wanted anal.

“D-daddy,” you stammered, distracted by him grabbing your hips and moving you even faster on top of him.  He was practically throwing you up and down on top of him, and somehow doing it effortlessly.

“Just say it,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back.  He smiled and pulled you into a deep kiss, swallowing every moan as you felt yourself barrelling towards your peak.

“Please, I’m about to come-- can I come, Daddy?”

“Almost,” he nodded, “say it again, babygirl.”

“I love you,” you panted, “Daddy, I love you, please--”

“One more time,” he grunted, watching your face. 

“I love you!” you yelped, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer and feeling your walls flutter as sensation washed over you.  Thankfully he wasn’t far behind, only thrusting up into you a few more times before he spilled himself with a groan.

He kissed you long and slow, staying inside you even as his cock began to soften a little.  When he pulled away, he looked up at you with an expression that brimmed with restrained excitement.

“Oh, doll, you have no idea how good it is to finally hear you say that,” he beamed.  “We’re gonna be so happy here together… just me and my best girl, right?”

“Right,” you smiled, but as soon as you blinked a tear was rolling down your cheek.  He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, “everything’s finally the way it’s supposed to be.  You’re finally where you belong, with me.”

You nodded weakly and felt whatever grip you had on your sanity loosening.  Dreams of escape faded as he carried you to bed, holding you in his arms all night long.  You were beginning to embrace the simplicity of just letting life happen to you.  For every time you felt belittled and patronized by his coddling, there was another time that you secretly felt protected and loved.  The truth was, even though you had experienced so much that you couldn’t begin to describe in the past week, you had been relieved of so much of the stress you dealt with before.  As you drifted to sleep, you only hoped that you could manage to hide that truth from yourself just a little bit longer.

~

He was honestly proud of himself for managing to keep his hands off you while you slept all this time.  But it wasn’t too much longer before you woke him up with your stirring.  At first he was just going to give you a quick hug and then get back to sleep, but then as he pulled you closer, he realized you were dreaming.  And when you moaned quietly in your sleep, he realized it wasn’t just any dream.

He smiled to himself as he kissed your neck gently, wondering if you would wake up or not.  It was sort of a win-win either way for him.  He let his hands slide down your body, listening to your breathing as it began to pick up.  Your mouth fell open and it made your sounds even more apparent as he carefully opened your legs.

“Oh baby, you’re drenched,” he murmured to no one in particular, admiring the way your pussy glistened in the low light of the room.  This was one of those times that he really appreciated his choice to make you sleep naked almost every night.

One metal finger sliding through your folds made you shiver.  He wondered if it was from arousal or if the metal felt cold on your warm skin.  Your clit was swollen, and apparently extra sensitive from the way your sleeping body erupted in goosebumps when he drew lazy circles around it.

Suddenly lacking in the patience more foreplay would require, he found himself shoving down his boxers and stroking his cock, preparing to push into you.  If that didn’t wake you up, he’d be slightly concerned… but he wasn’t sure if he’d be concerned enough to stop fucking you.  Thankfully he didn’t have to face that dilemma because the second he was pressing his head into your opening, your eyes flew open.

“Daddy!” you yelped, your voice sounding a little strange as you were torn from your sleep.

He bottomed out and groaned softly, relishing how tightly you wrapped around him.  “You looked so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t help myself.”

You mewled but said nothing, only wrapping your hands around his biceps as he pulled back to thrust into you again.  

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked firmly.

“N-nobody-- I mean, uh, nothing,” you stumbled over your words.

“Oh, you can’t lie to me very well can you?  It’s okay doll, you can tell me, but if it’s someone other than me I’m probably gonna kill him.”

He felt you tense up a little and he knew he’d scared you.  He sort of wanted to do it again, because he loved the way your cunt tightened in that moment, but he decided against it.

“Aw, I’m just joking,” he dismissed, though he wasn’t quite sure if he actually was or not.  “Go ahead, tell me what you were dreaming.”

“Y-you were there,” you explained, “but it wasn’t just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Um, yeah,” you deflected nervously.

“Go ahead, spit it out,” he hissed as he started to thrust into you a bit harder.  

“Well, uh, Steve was there too,” you finally admitted.  A lot of emotions hit him at once when he heard you say that.  Of course jealousy was prominent, but it was different than it would’ve been before... you were home now, and nobody could take you away.  Both of you knew that.  So it might have been a slight blow to the ego, but he didn’t see Steve as a threat.  What he did see was an opportunity to make you squirm, which he was always looking for.

“Was he watching us?” Bucky pressed.

“Uh, sort of…” you trailed off.

He leaned down, putting his lips right against your ear.  “Was he fucking you?”

You whimpered but he could tell you were turned on.  He reached down and roughly rubbed at your clit.  “Be honest, darling.”

“He wasn’t,” you explained, “you were; you said he wasn’t allowed to… but I gave him a-- a blowjob.”

As much as Bucky wasn’t exactly the sharing type, he was intrigued by the mental image of you stuffed with cock at both ends like that.  Even more so he was intrigued by the fact that it apparently turned you on.

“Is that what you want, huh?  One cock isn’t good enough for you?  Who knew you were such a fucking slut.”

“‘M not!” you denied.

“Then why are you soaked from dreaming about choking on somebody else’s cock while I fuck you, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“And how did you feel when I told Stevie he wasn’t allowed to fuck you?  Even in your sleep you know your Daddy owns you.  That this is my hole and I decide everything that happens to it.”

You moaned so loud that he was afraid he would come right then and there.  You sounded like heaven.  He thrust into you as hard and deep as he could, slamming into your cervix and hitting your clit with his pelvis with each brutal motion.  You cried out and dug your nails into his skin.  

“Fuck, you like it rough don’t you?  Of course you do.  ‘Cause you’re Daddy’s needy little whore.”

“Yes, I’m close!” you yelped.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna let you come until you beg for it.  Seems like you need to remember that I’m the only one for you.”

“Just you, Daddy, I only want you!” you reassured, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I’d die before I let you get on your knees for another man, do you believe me babygirl?”

“Yes, I know Daddy, I’m yours, there’s nobody else.”

“If you wanna come you better start askin’ really nice,” he growled.

“Please, Daddy, I want you to make me come!  It feels so good, please…”

“Keep going.”

“You’re amazing, your cock feels amazing, I wanna come for you so bad--”

“Fuck, baby, beg me to use you.”

He knew you were flustered by that.

“I-- I don’t know how,” you protested.

“Oh come on, you’re dumb but you’re not that dumb,” he grinned.  “Just how I said it.”

“Use me,” you murmured in defeat, “please.”

“That’s it,” he praised, “just like that-- come for me, doll.”

You were so obedient, tightening around him and nearly screaming with pleasure the moment he commanded you to.  He wasn’t far behind, succumbing to the perfection of your wet heat and filling it with his climax.

“Fuck!” he groaned when he hit the peak of it, trying somehow to focus entirely on both the way you felt and the way you sounded.

Normally he cleaned you up after this but right now he wanted his come to leak out of you all night, make your thighs and the sheets sticky.  Apparently you had some sort of implant or something which kept you safe… he was trying not to count the days until it wore off.  He figured you would totally lose it if he told you that he wanted to get you pregnant, and yet, he was surprised that you hadn’t asked him about getting your implant replaced.

~

You knew that life was unpredictable and all that, but if never in a million years would you have expected for the Winter Soldier to be painting your nails.  But there he was, focused intently on each stroke of the tiny brush as he held your hand still.

“This’ll help you stop chewing your nails,” he gave as his excuse.  It was almost believable, except that he did your toes too.  Amazingly enough, you’d never chewed on those.

They were actually sort of pretty, if you were being honest.  You admired them a little, as they dried.  It wasn’t a perfect paint job by any means, but much better than you expected from Bucky and honestly, a bit better than you would’ve done it in all likelihood.  The baby pink color was a little nauseating as always, but it admittedly did look nice with your skin tone. 

“What do you say?” he prompted.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you smiled.  “It looks nice.”

“You’re welcome, angel.  I think so too.  We’ll take ‘em for a spin when they’re dry.”

You swallowed.  You had a pretty good idea of what that would entail.

Next was your hair.  Pigtails, the way he always did it.  You never quite understood what he liked so much about turning you into a girlier, more childish version of yourself, but you were finally embracing the things that you liked about being in this role.  He certainly pampered you, which was hard to complain about.  In your whole time here (you struggled to keep track but it must have been over a month now) you'd never cooked once.

After lunch he had you on your knees, looking up at him while you started to unzip his fly.  You found yourself salivating a little as you pulled his half-hard cock out of his boxers.

“Baby, your hands are so small…” he noticed reverently.  “Barely fit around it.”

“It’s not that they’re small, it’s that you’re so big,” you replied, more honest than you were used to being with him.

“You flatter me,” he grinned.  “Do it some more.”

You felt put on the spot, but feared disappointing him.  “Daddy, your cock is… so big,” you improvised, still stroking him as he got harder for you, “I can’t believe it fits inside me.”

“Hmm, it almost doesn’t,” he recalled.

“But it feels so good when-- when I get used to you and, um, your cock… stretches me…”

He groaned a little, and you moved your hand faster.

“Fills me up so good, Daddy,” you moaned, getting more into it than you had intended to.  “Your cock feels so fucking good, it’s like it’s made for me--”

He cut you off suddenly by pushing you back onto the mattress, hovering over you as a muscular hand wrapped around your throat.

“Got quite the mouth on ya, doll,” he growled.  “Do I need to wash it out with soap?” 

You shook your head; he wasn’t choking you hard enough to stop you from speaking entirely if you had really wanted to, but you were too stunned to say much.  His attitude could flip on a dime like this, and you could never see it coming.  The fear made your heart race; the anticipation made your thighs clench together.  

He smiled as he pulled back, letting go of your neck and reaching for his cock instead.  “I can tell you’re worked up.  Go ahead, touch yourself.”

You hesitated because typically that would be an infraction, but he nodded for you to continue as you nervously reached between your legs.   

You gasped softly when you touched your clit: it was swollen, and especially sensitive.  You hadn't realized how turned on you really were.  Slowly, you started to rub circles around it as your hips rocked with your movements.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, and when you looked up at him, he was stroking himself as well.  You nodded quickly.  "'M gonna come on that pretty face, little one.  Beg me for it."

"Daddy…" you murmured in shock, "I… want you to come on my face, please.  Wanna be covered in it."

"You're not a good liar," he grinned.  "I know you really want me to fuck you."

He wasn't wrong, so you nodded again and watched his hand speed up as it moved up and down his length.

"You poor thing," he cooed.  "I fuck you daily and you're so disappointed to be going without, to just be getting my come on your face like the dirty little whore you are."

His words stung but your hand was moving faster between your legs.

"You're getting close, aren't you?  Wait until I'm ready," he ordered.  You swallowed dryly but slowed down a little to buy yourself some time.  

He grunted a bit and you really hoped it was signalling an orgasm because you felt yours building unstoppably.  You didn't even think you could pull your hand away from yourself if he asked you to, you needed to come so bad.

"Fuck, open your mouth baby-- stick your tongue out," he commanded quickly, stepping forward until his cock was casting a shadow over your face.  "Oh god, just like that… ready baby?"

You nodded one more time and heard yourself panting loudly through your open mouth, your moans only interrupted by a wince as his come spurted forward and painted your face and exposed tongue in hot stripes.  Your orgasm hit just in time, embarrassingly spurred on by the degrading position you were in.  

When he was done-- which seemed to take forever because he came so much-- he started to catch his breath before slipping his softening cock onto your come-coated tongue and into your waiting mouth.

"Mm, you look so good like this," he praised, "I'm not sure I wanna let you wipe it off."

A flesh thumb moved down to your cheek and rubbed a stray drop of spend into your skin.  

"My perfect little cum dumpster, huh?" he said proudly, as if it was an award or achievement or something, and not a sick, insulting term.

Weird thing was, you felt proud of yourself, too.

~

He’d been working outside all day, chopping firewood in preparation for the upcoming winter.  Sure, the cabin had heating, but he had a lot of ideas about cuddling in front of the fire, or maybe making love beside it.  

Regardless, even super soldiers tire and must rest after working.  He decided to head inside and heat up something warm to stave off the cold.  You were still sleeping last he’d checked, exhausted from a long night-- yes, that kind of long night.  He almost felt guilty for putting your body through so much…  you were so delicate, sometimes he forgot you couldn’t always handle what he could.  However, you were stronger than you realized, and such a perfectly obedient little girl; he smiled at the memory of your skin under his fingertips, your fragile form writhing and whimpering beneath him as he’d taken you for hours.  As he daydreamed and began to enter the kitchen, he was torn from his imagination by a sound from your room.  At first he wondered if he’d misheard it, but when he heard you cry out again, he assumed you were hurt and nearly tripped over himself to run to you.  His heart was racing and he almost considered reaching for his sidearm-- there was no way someone could’ve broken in and tried to hurt you, right?

But as he flung open the door, instead he found you alone with your hand between your legs.  You jumped up when you saw him, but it was too late.

“The fuck are you doing?!” he exclaimed, climbing onto the bed and trapping you before you could crawl backwards away from him.

“I-- I was just--”

He cut you off with a quick slap to the face.  Not to hurt you, just to get you to focus on him.

“You know you can’t touch yourself without my permission.  Did you forget?”

“No…” you murmured ashamedly.

“If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

“I… I just missed you…”

“Why didn’t you call me for help?  I can’t take care of you if you don’t ask.”

“I knew you were busy, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“Show me what you did,” he growled, watching you sheepishly spread your legs again to reveal your wet pussy and swollen clit.  “Oh doll, you really did a number on yourself.  Did you come without me?”

You looked away.

“Don’t bother lying.  Did you make yourself come with your fingers?”

“Yes…” 

You were hiding something.  He almost didn’t want to know the entire truth because it was breaking his heart to know you’d disobeyed so severely, but he had to know what happened if he was going to discipline you properly.

“Was it more than once?”

You shook your head and his blood went cold upon the realization that you were hiding something worse.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked you slowly.  He could hear your breathing quickened and he was sure he might die if you said what he was afraid of.  “Answer me.”

“I was thinking about… being fucked…”

“By who?” he asked.  You opened your mouth instantly but he cut you off.  “Don’t lie.”

You spoke but it was so weak that it wasn’t even a whisper.  “What was that?” he pressed.

“Sam,” you finally relented, “it was Sam.”

He was livid, but at least it wasn’t Steve.  

“Go stand beside the bed and kneel,” he commanded firmly.  You nodded weakly and slithered out from under him to do as he asked.  

He took a deep, slow breath hoping to calm himself a little.  He had heard that you shouldn’t punish little girls when you’re angry.  But he needed to nip this in the bud.

He got off the bed and approached you after a moment, running a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him.

“You understand you’ve been very naughty, don’t you?” he asked with a cold fury tinting his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered.  Clearly you were trying to be extra good and dutiful, hoping that strict adherence to the rules from here on out could save you some pain.  You weren’t wrong, but he wished that you would’ve had that attitude a little sooner.

“And if I don’t teach you a lesson, that would be unfair to both of us.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his belt and fly, pulling out his cock.  He sensed that you were compelled to lean forward and take it in your mouth, but you stayed still; you knew he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do.

As he stroked his cock to full hardness, he glared at you so intensely that you couldn’t keep his gaze, looking up briefly but always glancing back down to the floor shamefully.  

“I-I’m sorry, Da-” you began weakly.

“You’ll speak when spoken to,” he interjected harshly.  Finally, he held your jaw with one hand, the other holding his cock forward as he plunged it between your lips.  He moaned a little when you swirled your tongue over it, doing your best to coat every inch of it in wetness.

As quickly as he had pushed in, he pulled out again.  He slapped his cock on your face, smearing your own spit on your cheek.  He rubbed his tip over your lips in a circle, but when you opened up your mouth for him, instead he leaned forward and spit into your open mouth.

“Swallow it,” he demanded through his teeth, and you did though it made you shudder with disgust.

Only then did he shove his cock in again, and with brutal force as well.  He used fistfuls of your hair to pull your face up and down on his cock, ignoring your whimpers of pain.

The room was filled with the sounds of your choking and coughing, until those extended periods of silence when his cock was shoved all the way into your throat and you couldn’t even get enough air for that.  It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

When he pulled you off of him to look at your face, he grinned proudly.  “Doll, you look like a fuckin’ mess.”  And it was true; spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin and onto the floor, red nose and puffy eyes from crying… truly a sight to behold.

He gave you one more slap for good measure, the fist in your hair preventing your head from spinning to the side.  

“Gonna fuckin’ come in your throat.  You’d better swallow it all, bitch.”

He could feel your whole body jerk when he said it, and it only served to make your throat even tighter around him.  

“Fuck,” he groaned, “just like that, choke on me, fuck, oh god, fuck--”

He came with a stuttered moan and the sounds of protest you tried to make were lost as cum filled your throat and mouth.  

He smiled when you swallowed quickly, determined to obey.  He wasn’t even done coming yet and you were swallowing it.  Probably a good strategy; he had been pent up for a while now and he probably could’ve filled your tiny mouth until it was leaking.

When he was sure every drop of come had been spilled and swallowed, he pulled out and gave you some reprieve.  You gasped for air loudly, coughing a few times but mostly maintaining your composure like the good little slut you were.

He watched you shift your hip uncomfortably and realized you must be quite agitated yourself.

“If you want something from me, just ask,” he encouraged.  “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered.

He wagged his finger disapprovingly.  “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and he yanked you off the floor and into his lap quickly.

“You get so dumb when you need me,” he growled into your ear.  “So desperate that you don’t know how to think about anything else but cock.  Isn’t that right?”

You nodded with a gasp.

“You’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you?  Say it," he hissed in demand.

“I’m your dumb little baby,” you repeated breathlessly.

“Get on your hands and knees and get that ass up.”

You obeyed quickly, almost eagerly, and he grinned at your obedience.  You really needed it bad, and he was helpless but to oblige you.  As soon as he was on his knees behind you and lining up with your sopping entrance, he was shoving his cock into you all at once.

You yelped at the brutality of the intrusion; he stayed still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your warmth, before pulling back out again.

“Wh-?” you began to protest in confusion, but he was a step ahead of you.

“That was just to get my cock wet, baby.”

One metal finger slipped into your puckered hole and you yelped.  “D-daddy, not there!”

“Shhh, just relax,” he soothed.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you whined.

“That’s sort of the idea,” he explained.  “I know what you can handle, doll.”

“And I can handle this?”

“I never said that.”

And with only one more finger and a few more minutes of hasty preparation, he was pushing his cock into your tighter hole.

“Shh,” he soothed when he felt you clench around him, but still pushing forward, indifferent to your hiss of pain.  

“It hurts!” you sobbed.

“I know baby, you’re just gonna have to take it.  This wouldn’t be happening if you had just asked me to help you.”

You pouted and it was equal parts adorable and pathetic.  “I’m sorry!”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time to apologize.  Right now you just need to be quiet.  Don’t you wanna be a good little girl?”

“Y-yes.”

He started to move his cock inside you and you shivered under him.  

“Please come,” you begged weakly after a few more minutes of thrusting.

“You wanna get it over with?  Don’t like it?”

You nodded and he did feel bad for you, but he knew it was what you needed.

“I’ll come when I’m ready, doll.  Just take Daddy’s cock, ‘s all you’re good for anyways, right angel?”

You nodded and bit back another sob, blissfully unaware of his adoring gaze; you looked so cute crying for his cock.  He liked being strong enough to hurt you almost as much as he liked being strong enough to protect you.

“My perfect little crybaby,” he cooed.  “Don’t whine too much or I’ll have to stuff that filthy mouth with a paci, alright?”

He watched you bite your lip and try to stay calm.  Out of pity, he moved a little slower than he wanted to, giving you some more time to adjust.  Eventually he felt you relaxing, though you still yelped a little when he pushed in all the way.  It was hard to choose between watching your face or watching his cock stretch open your hole.

“God, you’re takin’ me so well,” he praised.  “Who knew you were such a whore, huh?”

Before you could deny it, he reached down and swiped his fingers through your folds quickly, groaning when he felt how swollen and wet they were.  “Fuck, baby, you’re drenched.  You like getting fucked up the ass; such a dirty little slut.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you informed him with a weak voice.  He was still angry with you, of course, but he was so proud of you, too.  He could remember all those times you’d tried to run or fight, now you were just laying there and taking it like a champ-- no restraints, no threats, just the desire to be good for him.  You were everything he’d ever dreamed you could be and more.

The thought spurred his orgasm ahead sooner than he expected, but he still wanted to hold back.  You needed more to learn your lesson, and he wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible.

His fingers had been digging into the supple flesh of your hips and ass, hard enough to bruise, but you felt too warm and too soft, so he gripped the sheets instead in his attempts to stave off his rupture.

But it wasn’t much longer until the tightness of you, the heat of you, the sweetness of your sobs all became too perfect to ignore.  His cock was aching for release, and if he denied himself much more, he figured his balls would never relax from their tightened state.

“I think you’re ready to apologize now,” he groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you sobbed.  “I swear, I’ll never touch myself without your permission again-- and I’ll never think about anybody but you!  I only want you, I swear!”

“You sure, baby?  You don’t think Sam would treat you better?” he mocked.  Sam definitely would be nicer to you, but there was no way he could treat you better than Bucky did.  Maybe you wanted a guy who was sweeter, more traditional, but this was what you needed and only your Daddy could give that to you.

“I’m sure!  I only want you, please!  Please, please come.”

“Is that what you want, angel?  Want me to come in your tight little ass?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please…?”

“Please, Daddy.”

And he came, though it was a little more physically taxing since it was the second of the night.  You whimpered a little but he could tell you were relieved it was over.

You didn’t put up any fight at bath time that night, just curled into his arms and let him wash you as you whispered more apologies.  

“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed as he washed your hair, whispering right against your ear before giving it a little kiss.  “You did good, baby.  You made a mistake but you’re gonna learn from it and we’re gonna be better than ever.  You took your punishment so well, darling, you should be proud.”

~

Today you'd woken up to an empty house, with a note on the kitchen table:

Gone for groceries, I'll be back in the afternoon.  When I get home, greet me at the door wearing what I've laid out for you in your closet.

You figured it wasn't going to be something conservative by any means, but you were still taken aback by finding a tail, collar, and cat-ear headband.  The collar was pink leather with a tiny bell and a little heart-shaped steel tag with your name on it.  The realization that he had this custom-made sent a shiver down your back.  On the back of the tag was another engraving:

IF LOST RETURN TO BUCKY BARNES

You were a little concerned about wearing only a collar, ears and tail… especially when you realized how the tail was intended to be worn.

Still, you had become thoroughly obedient, and you trusted that this would make him happy which was all you could hope for.  You fought past your hesitation and changed out of your pajamas into the outfit (if it could even be called that when it contained no actual clothing).

He had the biggest grin on his face when he opened the door to find you on your knees just outside the entryway.

“Oh look at you, kitten,” he beamed.

Being naked on the floor was cold and awkward.  You crossed your arms to cover your chest, frowning as you tried to avoid his penetrating gaze.  “This is stupid.  I feel stupid.”

“You are stupid," he smiled.  "But you look great!  Now behave or you’ll have to eat out of a bowl on the floor until you’ve learned to love being Daddy’s pet.”

Your eyes went wide.

“You’re gonna behave, right?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

He smiled and curled his finger, motioning for you to come closer.  You awkwardly crawled towards him on your hands and knees, biting your lip absent-mindedly.  When you were on the floor in front of his legs, he knelt down a bit and grabbed a handful of your ass.  It made the plug inside you shift and you whimpered.

“Mm, this tail looks lovely on you,” he praised.  “And the ears… you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you shyly accepted the compliment.

"I bet you got wet putting this on, huh?" he presumed.  You nodded as he moved to rub two fingers through your folds, proving himself right.

When he leaned back and pulled his cock from his jeans, you were surprised at how hard it already was.  Clearly the kitten thing was working for him.

"Go ahead kitty, I know you want a taste," he encouraged.

You leaned forward and gave, fittingly, small kitten licks to the tip of his cock and he groaned.  “Just like that, fuck.”

You hummed when you tasted his pre-cum on your tongue.  You’d gotten so accustomed to it that you actually enjoyed the flavor now.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your lips around the head and suckled on it gently.  Apparently, he didn’t care much for the slow-but-steady method; he slipped two fingers under your collar and used it to pull you down further until you choked.  

He continued to guide you forward and back, moaning every time your throat accepted the leaking head of his cock.

“You don’t want me to come in your mouth, do you?” he asked with a grunt.

You shook your head.  

He grinned knowingly, pushing you back until your mouth was empty and free to respond.  “Where do you want it?” 

“In my pussy.”

“Full sentences only, please.”

“I want you to come in my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Hmm, you did ask very nicely,” he smiled.  “But I have something else to do first.  Go get on the couch, kitten, hands and knees.”

You almost stood up but realized he wanted you to crawl again.  As soon as you’d done it, he was behind you, humming contentedly as he ran his rough hands over your skin.  You mewled when he started to kiss along your back, down your ass and between your thighs until he was licking long stripes through your folds.  Both of you moaned when he sucked your clit into his mouth, even allowing it to graze against his teeth which nearly hurt but made you gush with wetness anyways.

"Please-- I'm close, Daddy, can I come?" you whimpered.

"Go ahead," he mumbled before returning to his work, knowing exactly how to use his tongue to take you apart in mere minutes.  Your hands grabbed desperately at the back of the couch for stability as your legs began to quiver with the force of your orgasm.  You yelped and bit down on your lip as it crashed over you; sometimes when he ate you out, he wouldn't stop after you'd came and keep going until you were begging for mercy, but he was apparently feeling generous today and stopped once you'd finished.

That, of course, did not mean he was finished with you.

He pushed his jeans down to his thighs and laid back onto the mattress, cock so hard that it was pressing into his abs.

“Come on kitten, ride me,” he grinned, motioning for you to climb on top of him.  The moment you did he was rubbing his cock against you, pushing it upwards for you to sink down onto it.  You moaned as it stretched you open, and when your hips met his, the tip of it brushed against the deepest places inside you.  You yelped and tried to move back up but he suddenly grabbed your legs and held you down.

“Nuh-uh, kitten, no running away.  You’re gonna take all of me.”

“It’s too deep,” you protested weakly, even though you felt your walls throbbing with pleasure.

“Not at all, angel; you’re made for me, so you fit me perfectly,” he explained.  “If I let you go, you’re gonna ride me properly, take my whole cock, right?”

You nodded and he eased up his grip.  You felt your legs shaking as little as you pushed yourself up only to drop back down, wincing as he filled you so completely once again.  You repeated the movement over and over, picking up pace and moaning every time.  You could feel his cock moving the plug inside your ass, and each bounce on top of him made your collar jingle a little.

You did your best to keep up the pace, but to lift yourself required use of a muscle that you clearly hadn't been getting much exercise for; it wasn't more than a few minutes before you were faltering, your moans of pleasure accented with the struggling groans of exhaustion.

"Oh kitty, are you too weak?  Too wimpy and small to ride my cock?  Baby… that's pathetic," he moped.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you pouted.  "I'm just tired…"

"Just a little longer, kitten, just ride my cock a little more then I'll help you out, okay?  I know you can do it.  I know you can be a good girl."

You hoped he was right.  You nodded weakly as he looked at you expectantly, before slowly beginning to move again in spite of your sore thighs.

Soon, as he'd promised, he pulled you down and wrapped his arms around you, thrusting up into you.  Your moans echoed against his skin when your face was shoved into the crook of his neck.  When his cock slammed into your most sensitive spot, you bit him there as a way to stifle yourself and he slapped your ass.

“Only bad kittens bite, doll.  I thought you were going to be a good kitten for me?”

“Feels so good,” you tried to explain though it came out slurred, “please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, baby.  Not gonna stop until that pussy is full of my come.  That what you want?”

“Yes,” you pleaded, “oh god, yes, please…”

He moaned loudly as his thrusts lost all rhythm, his cock moving so fast inside you that the sensation became one hot blur against your walls.  Finally, as he groaned and gripped you tight enough to bruise, he spilled inside you. 

As he let out a long breath and his body relaxed under you, he smiled softly.  "You really are perfect, pet."

"C-can I take off the ears now?  And the tail?"

"Hmm, not yet," he grinned, "we need to take a few pictures of you like this first."

~

He was working in the kitchen when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Don't come in here!" he ordered you.  "Wait for me at the dining table."

"Why, Daddy?" he heard you respond from the hall.  He smiled just to hear your sweet voice.

"It's a surprise, babydoll," he explained.  "It's almost ready-- just wait, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," you answered dutifully, your footsteps moving to the dining area as he'd requested.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he lifted it and turned out the door to deliver your surprise: a cake, with pink frosting and one pink candle.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him holding the cake stand, being careful not to tilt it or get the flame of the candle near his long hair.

He smiled and set it in front of you, looking to your face for a reaction.  Suddenly he felt self-conscious about it, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.   "Um, I made it myself.  Sorry if the decorating isn't that nice…"

"It's beautiful, Daddy, and I bet it'll taste great, too," you beamed.  "What's the occasion?"

"It's our anniversary," he replied, his voice suddenly low and dark.

He saw recognition cross your face, though you looked confused as well.  The meds he'd given you throughout the year had disrupted your memories, and probably distorted your perception of the passage of time as well, but it was all necessary to get you compliant.  He hoped reminding you of that somewhat violent first day wouldn't set back any of your progress.

"I've… been here a year?" you asked weakly.

"We've been here a year," he corrected, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around you, "but that's not what we're celebrating."

The hand on your shoulder slipped down to the underside of your arm, stroking it slowly.

"We're celebrating that a medication somebody gave you a long time ago, before we were together, is finally worn off," he explained slowly, a grin creeping across his face. "We're celebrating that the next time I come inside you, I'm gonna get you pregnant."

He didn't fuck you for three days after that, loving the way you were clearly on edge as you waited for him to make good on his promise.  And he didn't blame you for being nervous about it, even if you seemed to understand that any protest from you would fall on deaf ears.

So, he was quite taken aback when you came onto him one night, bedtime cuddling quickly turning into something more as you rubbed your ass against his crotch.  He hadn't even realized that you would want it all on your own.

God, you were so fucking perfect he couldn't stand it.

"What are you doing, angel?" he asked you with a growl as he grabbed your hips and forced them to still.

"Nothing, Daddy," you answered coyly.  He grinned and nipped at your earlobe.

"Are you horny, babygirl?  Because you're acting like a whore."

You nodded and gasped, shivering under his touch.

"Want Daddy's cock inside you?" he pressed, voice getting darker.

"Yes, please!" you begged.

He sat up and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his arms as he hovered above you.

“You wanna have my baby?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“Yes,” you nodded your head quickly.

“Want me to knock you up, doll?  Right now?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He leaned down, almost close enough to kiss you, as his gaze wandered over your face  “I don’t want it to be like the other times.  None of the crazy shit, nothing rough.  If I’m gonna get you pregnant--”

“Whatever you want,” you pleaded.

He kissed you suddenly, deep and slow.  “I love you,” he told you quickly as he pulled back, breathless but confident.  

“I love you too,” you answered without even questioning it.

He was gentle, and thorough, and patient.  It was love-making in a way that was out of character for him.  He lifted your legs to wrap around his hips, pushing into you as deep as he could but with a contemplative slowness; he cradled your face in his hands and kissed all over it as he praised you in whispers.

My pretty girl, my perfect little girl, gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.

You were only moans and sobs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.  

The first time you came was unexpected, building slowly but crashing into you all at once, judging by the way you went from softly whimpering to nearly screaming in seconds.  The second was quieter, more subtle, but he could tell by the way your walls tightened around him.  The third left you in tears, beyond overstimulated and broken down into a babbling mess.

“Please,” you cried, “please I need you to come-- come inside me.”

He struggled to resist that offer, but he didn't want it to be over too quickly.

“Soon,” he promised, “I’m close.  You feel so good.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss but stopping as his mouth brushed against yours.

“Please, Bucky… please come…” you whispered.

He moaned, his thrusts getting a little more erratic.

“Need it so bad,” you whimpered, “need you to put your baby in me--”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “‘m gonna, promise.”

“Now,” you demanded through your teeth, “I need it now.”

“Not until you come one more time,” he responded.  You whined and he knew you were questioning whether it was possible.  “I know you can, just gimme one more.”

His angle shifted and he stayed deep within you, grinding his hips on yours just the right way to rub your clit with his pubic bone.  Your back arched but he held you close, barraging you with the sensation and pressing his forehead to yours.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life, as if you were afraid to fall.  He smiled and kissed your neck, feeling your walls flutter around him once again.

“That’s it,” he praised, “I know you’re close.  Just let go.  I’ve got you.”

Tears streamed down your face as it tore through you, hitting you so hard that instead of moans it was just silence.  He watched your face intently, breathing through his teeth as he summoned all his willpower to hold on just a little longer.  

"Daddy!" you yelped, and he couldn't take any more: with a high-pitched, stuttered moan, he felt his cock flexed as he came harder than maybe he ever had before.  Knowing that you were fertile made it all so much more intense.  Normally, his orgasm just meant the end of sex-- maybe just for a few minutes on a good day.  But now?  Now it was the beginning of something.  His perfect little angel was going to finally fulfill her final purpose and give him a baby.  He'd waited so long, dreamed of it every day for years, and finally it was going to happen.  

He refused to pull out or let you move until he was sure it would take; he killed the time by kissing every part of your face and neck that he could reach.

He hadn't even gotten you pregnant yet, technically, and he already couldn't wait for more children.  He'd always wanted to have a big family, but he gave up on that dream years ago; meeting you had brought it all back, and made him realize that all this time he'd just been waiting for the perfect wife to start it with.

You were well worth the wait.

[sincelastsession]

My psychiatrist is an asshole.

I just asked him if complex PTSD caused any sort of auditory hallucinations because I was trying to figure out if I was having an issue or if it was just loud neighbors which he never let me explain and then he went off about medical marijuana and how terrible it was.

And he doesn't really want me smoking it but he doesn't have a save because I'm on the registry and another Doctor Approved it for pain and I'd rather you know not have to take opiates or other harder drugs to kill my pain.

He also freaked out about the amount of xanax I'm on even though he's the one that prescribed it. And I told him that I would rather not take 3 mg a day and I would like to just be able to move from where I'm living now and keep on the 2 mg plus the third milligram for emergencies and I have no idea if he changed my dosage at all.

He talked about how it would eventually cause me to have dementia and you know what I fucking hope it does. I hope it does I don't wanna remember a fucking thing about my life I really don't I don't care I would rather be clueless for getting everything and not knowing who I was or where I was honestly because that sounds a lot better than being hyper aware and hyper vigilant about everything.

Like who cares I'm 37 I'm probably not going to live to 70 at all because of all my other health problems who cares.

I literally have a heart condition that could kill me at any moment of time.

Why don't they think about these things.

I mean it's helping me everything is helping me also he was convinced that I'm still taking my adderall which I have not touched since he told me that he could not prescribe that to me while I was taking xanax and smoking weed which I understood even though I'm pissed about it.

He was excited to see the name of the psychiatrist you work with and I'm starting to wonder if I should just switch to her and if she would keep me on the correct medicine that works for me.

I would love to have 5 minutes with her to just ask her if she would actually keep me on my anxiety medicine and not wean me off until I'm doing way better. However the medicine is doing like more than one duty. It also helps me relax my muscles because I've got something going on with that that's neurological that they haven't figured out. It helps me sleep because I can't take any of the fucking sleep medicines on the market except for ambien but that runs risk of killing me with my heart condition and I've had reactions to everything else. Melatonin makes me not feel good and have horrible dreams. Can't take vista real because that will set off my heart condition. Add event only works for like 10 minutes. I'm not correcting any of these typos from Text-to-speech I really hope you can read this I don't know what to do and I don't feel like fixing it. Anyway and connipen erased my whole fucking memory from the time I was on it. And boost power did jek shit fuck nothing.

I really don't like the way I was treated by my psychiatrist and his PA today and I don't even like the way that they spoke to my mother and I had her at that appointment today so she could discuss with him that it would be a terrible idea to put me impatient which he agreed with.

He wants me to move as soon as possible to some more very quiet and safe and I need a 2 bedroom apartment that's in an area that's quiet and safe I do not care if it's in a ghetto with mostly black people I just care if I'm in a safe and quiet environment.

I was told that I'm not going to get better until that happens.

I have a massive headache and I fucking hate everything right now.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do when I'm unable to leave my apartment most days to get away from this shit and if I do leave then I end up having to spend money on something like a drink or a snack. And that's driving me insane because it's like completely unnecessary purchases. But to me I don't even know what is necessary anymore because I don't even buy myself new clothing I have it bought myself anything that didn't come from a thrift store in years.

Also fuck my sister all the way to hell to the center of the fucking Earth. She needs to fucking learn her lesson because she has been a complete fucking cunt to everybody in the family she won't get help she says she's gonna call and make appointment she won't do that my mom and dad have sat with her and offered to assist her in making appointments she won't do that all she does is either work or play with her friends or sits in her room and smokes weed and has a horrible sleep disorder that she won't get help for.

She also has an alcohol problem in her aunt just passed away At 43 years old from alcoholism and A We're genetic disorder that has to do with alcoholism and alcohol that might possibly kill Piper if she has the same genes

My mom tried to explain this to her she did not care

Apparently Piper just talks to her birth mom on the phone and makes up lies and bullshit as if her birth mom is going to come get her and take her away which I wish she fucking would honestly. But I'd like to beat her mother's ass first for all the shit I have been put through.

Also found out the name and the crimes that Piper's father has done which are horrible.

Other than giving her biological sister shaken baby syndrome he's also a fucking pedophile.

I can't stand this shit

She keeps whining to her fiance that she doesn't want to go live in a nice house with him and she confided in my mother that she hates her engagement ring even though it was one of the 3 she picked out.

If she doesn't fucking want it I will take it jesus I'm so tempted to call her fiance and fill him in on every fucking lie she's told him and ruin their relationship but then she would just try and sap off of mom and dad again

And my mom told her that if she does get married don't come crying to her or my father when she's pregnant and divorced because her fiance or her husband won't put up with her bullshit anymore.

I do think that because her father is mentally ill and my dad is mentally ill she's extra fucked up and I do think she has a form of psychopathy or sociopathy or I'm sort of personality disorder or just really really needs to go to rehab for weed and quit smoking and quit drinking and quit being a fucking dumb ass

Her and my father apparently I have learned today have thrown out so many things and donated so many things of mine without my permission also I was given mail that I told my credit union to quit sending to that address and I know that they send a letter once a month

And I did not get all of the letters that they sent because why because my dad has been opening them and he swore he hadn't opened this one which is why he knows how much money I'm spending on doordash when I'm too scared to leave my apartment because of all the bullshit going on in my anxiety

I have 2 legal years to press charges against my father and sister and I'm still trying to figure out if I am going to win at all if I even try

There are many laws about abusing disabled people. I would love to meet a lawyer that knows about all those laws and knows about all the abuse that I have gone through throughout my life and how the fuck can I Sue my family for that.

I am super mad I don't feel good I'm pissed off at my partner too right now.

My mom told me that she resented me and my sister but me especially because of how I speak to her but she doesn't realize how she comes across to me and I'm not purposefully trying to speak to her any sort of way unless I'm angry and it's reactive abuse which I understand is a problem and I should not do that and that's why I'm in therapy among other things.

I shouldn't have to go to bed at all like before midnight on a weekend just so I can get enough rest to deal with tomorrow which is supposed to be a lazy Sunday but it won't be because everybody's gonna be loud as fuck

I went through crying and sobbing and shaking and almost throwing up today just because of how loud everything was

All of the sudden my psychiatrist doesn't think I have autism he thinks I just have a generalized anxiety disorder and he didn't even make a note that I have the diagnosis of complex PTSD it's in all of my medical chart

He told me he was treating me for the symptoms of generalizing anxiety disorder and panic disorder

I don't understand why we couldn't talk diagnosis I understand that he's treating symptoms I'm not an idiot like some people and that's okay that they're idiots because they don't have a special interest in medical like me they don't know better.

But talking to me using a diagnosis is going to be easier for me to understand and understand the symptoms of that diagnosis that are being treated I'm not going to start acting like that diagnosis and lean into it just because we're using the phrase I understand that the fucking DSM is just like a fucking field guide

I understand that the human brain is so complex that we don't even have words for all the disorders that exist that most things that people are dealing with are pretty much unspecified and most of the medicine that's prescribed kind of covers those symptoms anyway

But not for me not for fucking me I've tried everything.

They I asked him about ketamine treatments and he about had a fucking fit and I still don't understand why other than he just doesn't know enough about it to recommend it and it's experimental blah blah blah

And then my father my father finds an apartment $700 a month it's a 2 bedroom or something like that at fucking Sherwood something and that's an area that is fucking dangerous as hell and I looked them up and I saw a reddit thread about how there was a shooting 10 days ago and bullets went through people's walls.

I am not doing well but I don't need to go to in patient facility Because they will just hurt me and fuck me up more

I don't know what to do I don't know how to handle it I've tried everything does this make all the noise stop

Is terrified that my PTSD is going to go completely off the wall and I'm gonna lose all sense of self-restraint and fucking explode and fight like fucking neighbor

I don't necessarily want to do any of that but if I snap I don't know what's going to happen

And he told me I needed to move as soon as possible to a nice quiet spot and I've been telling my mom and dad and they don't fucking care dude they don't care

Everybody I know other than Travis and my partner generally only gives a fuck about themselves and what benefits them in their life and they don't think like I do about other people

It is a miserable existence and I hate it

I don't wanna care anymore I just want to learn how to deal with the people that are closest to me which is my fucking family

I want to get my things out of my dad's house but I can't even go over there without having APTSD reaction

And they're just throwing my things away and donating them without my permission

My sister is also stealing things from me and my mother without permission my dad's just letting her have whatever she wants and it's not hers to take and it's not his to give

I did not ask them to block off my old bedroom 4 8 fucking years and allow wild animals and shit to get in there.Because of course there's holes in the roof and there's holes in my bedroom ceiling that never got fixed that my dad made and there's gonna be damage to everything I own and I have really important stuff that I left in that room and if I find out my sister took it I'm gonna end up in jail

Because the things that I left at that house have great monetary value but also incredible sentimental value because it's the only things I have left of my grandparents.

I'm gonna be an awful older sister right now and say that I wish that they had never adopted her and maybe focused on helping me while I was a teenager so I didn't end up hanging out with the wrong people and end up in situations that were awful

Maybe if they hadn't used me as a slave to clean up after them both and made all sorts of excuses for this behavior I might not have certain problems

I know that focusing on the past is not very helpful but it's very hard to stay in present moment and fucking do anything because of how bad this flair is I'm not doing well

I'm fucking crying and that's why all the typos are happening

And literally the problem is noise it's just too much noise and rude people and uncaring people and just I can't deal with it it's too much

I don't want my meds fucked with I don't want my old psychiatrist to be dead I wish he was alive more than anybody right now

He was gonna retire after finding me a Doctor and we were supposed to go get coffee together because he actually cared about me as like a daughter figure because my father is a piece of shit You can't seem to keep his hands to himself and it has horrible boundaries

And my sister is also a piece of shit and she has horrible boundaries and I hope she just goes back to her mother

You shouldn't even be talking on the phone with her mother her mother is atrocious she is trashy and she is an idiot and it's probably best that she was given up for adoption but holy fuck I wish she went to a different family

It's not fun to be terrorized by your entire family you're entire life

I don't really have the support system I need either

I have Travis and he's wonderful but he's not gonna be around forever he's eventually gonna get a girlfriend or something's gonna happen and he's gonna be too busy to help me and that's fine and I understand and I would be so happy for him

But I don't really have anybody else that checks up on me and really gives much of a fuck

I wish my grandmothers were still alive.

I wish they knew what everybody was doing to me. Because they listened to me and they cared and they took care of me and nobody else did.

I miss my dead best friend so much

She had a lot of problems but she had a really good heart and she actually gave a day of about me.

I'm so fucking tired of crying I'm so tired of living in this hell hole it used to be nice

I don't know how to get proof that my neighbor is running a day care

I don't know how to get proof about the noise level

They told me I shouldn't be videotaping to prove it but they want me to prove it and so how the fuck am I supposed to prove it

The security and courtesy officer won't come out and won't help with anything because he's a lazy son of a bitch I fucking hate cops

They don't do anything unless it's an emergency situation and then they'll kind of wake up out of their drunken wife beating stupor

Police are supposed to be fucking public servants we pay taxes about this I believe I don't know I've never done taxes my parents stuck me in medicaid and SSI when I was 25 and I never got a chance to try again and again to leave it home and try and get a job to save money to get my own place so I wouldn't have to rely on my fucking father and now I'm in a position where I can't even do any of that

Kitty even concentrate to pack boxes to move because everything is so loud and it's almost midnight and it's still loud and the security officer has already refused to come out so why does he even have this job he gets to live here for free he doesn't even patrol

I can't even call corporate till Monday

Feel terrorized in my own home by people outside of my home

I'm scared to smoke weed now that I'm prescribed because my psych had a fucking tantrum

I do wonder if the site that you work with is a lot more chilled out and understands but I have no clue

I would like to try the Academy and treatments my brain is already fucked up anyway who cares maybe you don't fucking kill some of my intelligence and give me a little bit Of like A lobotomy I don't know maybe I'll be happier if I'm dumber

The thing is Joshua I would try other medicines if I knew that they would possibly help me but I have literally been on everything we ran me through the Gambit

Nothing works why is that oh because I don't have any of those psyche problems that it treats or I'm just completely resistant to them or I just have some sort of wild ass genetic mutation I don't know

My geneticist wants to run a whole bunch of shit tests on me and I won't be able to do that till next Spring

My parents expect me to be financially independent as soon as possible and I'm like you guys I don't even know if I can accomplish that in 2 years because of all the trauma that I have and the things that I need to work out

And I need to do EMDR therapy to be able to process these things and if it doesn't work then I need to find another procedure or medication or something that shuts up my stupid vase of vague nerves

Because I know they're overactive I know my court is all and a journal in levels are probably fucking insane

And I know that I have been living in this state for far too long like I have been hypervigilance since I was a child

I don't know if there was a time where I wasn't

I barely have good memories and they're fleeting because all the bad memories have to take up the room because they're not being processed to the correct part of my brain and it's not fair

And I hate how other people could post about their mental issues on Facebook and everybody gives them encouraging messages and tells them they love them and heart reaction but if I do it I don't but if I do it oh Kim's just being crazy again and I have never even been actually crazy in front of these people it I'm so sick of it

I guess because I'm not a fucking addict I don't count.

I can't even get my apartment clean to have company over because I feel like as soon as it gets clean it gets fucked up again

I wasn't having any of these issues when I took adderall

It was taking like an infant dose

2.5 mg

It worked just fine for the first half of the day which is what I needed it for and then the rest of the day I was able to smoke weed cause I was on the registry

I have never had an interaction with any of these medicines I don't care how old I am I have weighed more than I do now and I have been in worship than I am now and there's still no mental problems that I get when I combine those things however I haven't been able to take to adderall for like over a year no and I am miserable because my brain doesn't shut the fuck up and I really miss it when it was quiet

And my anxiety medicine does like a whole bunch of shit for me it helps with my blood pressure it helps with my pain it helps relax me and it helps with my anxiety and PTSD so I don't see why the fuck I should have to get off of that medicine ever I really don't care if it gives me dementia I will sign a fucking contract saying that I don't fucking care and I won't Sue

You know it's frustrating because like even just talking about my medicines makes me worried because if you talk about your meds too much it makes you look like you're an addict

That's what I've always been told by other therapists and doctors because they think that my hyperfocus is that because I have an addiction issue and that is not the case ever

If I didn't have to take any medicine I would be so thrilled but this is what helps me this is what works and why fix something that isn't broken

Why is my psychiatrist being a fucking asshole to me.

By the way I signed paperwork so you can talk to him about whatever you want and I hope that you use that for good and no evil and that was a joke but didn't land how I thought it would

Maybe you can explain to my psychiatrist that there's a lot more going on with me than what he sees because I'm terrified of him

I actually prefer to see his daughter who is his PA

She was in the session today wanted to talk to her instead of him and every time I tried to talk to her she sat there with her mouth shut and didn't talk to me at all and I'm so confused about that

He seemed angry that I brought my mom to my appointment but I brought her there on purpose because I was terrified that they were gonna put me in treatment or something

And she was very helpful and told him that I do not belong in a psychiatric facility because it's terrible for people with PTSD and autism

I don't know why he told me that he was pretty sure I had autism but I needed to be tested for an actual diagnosis But it was better if I didn't have a diagnosis in my chart and I don't know how that makes any fucking sense

I miss social cues constantly I can't have conversations with people normally because of my autism and whatever else is going on with my brain

I cannot find Somebody that can test me for any of that I cannot Find a narrow psyche worth a damn that can Help me figure out if there's something neurologically going on with me in causing all the Issues

And then people forget that soriatic authorities and all of my other physical diagnosis cause brain issues as well they can inflame the brain

I feel like I'm going completely nuts and I don't like it

I don't want to wake up to people screaming tomorrow

I'm tired I just want to enjoy my weekends and relax I just want to enjoy my week and relax and do things I want to pack I can't pack

I want to stay up all night because that's when it's quiet but then I can't sleep during the day because everything is too loud

Even late at night it's loud and there's people hollerin

Like I've tried to think up every possible thing that I can come up with and nothing is a solution that I'm going insane because of this

Mean I even thought about living in a 600 square foot studio on East state street because it looked decent enough but $800 is too expensive for that says everybody so I don't know what I'm supposed to do and I don't like the fact that my dad gets to choose and then is gonna put my name on the fucking lease

He and my sister and my mom treat me like I'm being dramatic and I'm not I don't know how to act dramatic on purpose like they think I'm doing because me acting dramatic is very obvious because I act like an autistic person trying to mimic drama and it's not pretty it's just stupid looking

Everybody has these false narratives of me and their heads and I'm tired of that I'm tired of being judged by everything and everybody

I'm exhausted and I just want a break and I just want to sleep for a fucking week and I want somebody really nice to take care of the cats for me while I rest and I don't want to go to an awful hospital place

I'm not a danger to myself I'm currently not a danger to others yet

I'm scared I'm going to end up being a danger because I really need to get out of here

Like I need to move immediately

And it sucks because it's just gonna be my parents holding money and things over my head and making threats at me over and over again and then denying that they're doing that because they're fucking narcissist and they can't see what they're doing is wrong unless somebody they respect or a professional explains it to them properly because I don't count as somebody that knows anything about myself

I might as well be a pet or an object or shit on the bottom of someone's shoe

Why do people have to be so fucking cruel

I'm so sick of it I don't want to have to be resilient anymore

I don't want to be nice anymore

I don't want to make everybody happy anymore

I don't even know who I am or how to make myself happy

But it just feels like a lost child that just got raised by crazy strangers

And I feel so stuck and I can't even read my book that I got to help me because they just won't wing me alone

No onen is leaving me alone to rest I can't get any rest with the noise

I shouldn't be sitting here crying on a Friday ni stressed to hell and I missed so many things going on this weekend because I was too stressed out to do anything

Travis bought tickets for us to go to a show next Saturday and I don't even know if I'm gonna be able to go Because my sanity is on the fucking Fritz.

I mean with loud music it's different I can wear the ear protection and enjoy the music and there's a band I really want to see anyway and Travis paid for tickets for both of us

And I'm scared that I'm gonna be too anxious to go because a lot of people I know are going to be there and I don't know what to say to any of them when they ask me how I'm doing

I don't wanna see Bonnie or Jamie or fucking anybody who is an asshole

Because like I can't handle them and I'm either going to run away and cry or flip out and I don't want to flip out

The thing is everybody just thinks I'm crazy and it's like a distressed tolerance thing but no one has actually heard what I deal with because this is something that you couldn't even deal with most people can't even deal with this noise I don't know how my neighbors are like fucking angry as hell I guess because they're busy and their apartment layouts aren't the same as mine

I just need to move I need to move as quickly as possible I wish I could just find a place tomorrow and Go ahead and sign the fucking lease and just start moving My Shit just get my Bed moved in there and the cats moved in there and slowly moved the rest of my stuff so I can Sleep somewhere where it's fucking Quiet.

I'm scared that I'm going to have APTSD episode or flip out or something shitty like that

I'm so tired of people being shitty to me I'm so tired of it I don't know what to do II really don't know what to do about any of this shit

I've turned it over and over and over and over in my brain and I cannot find a solution

It doesn't matter if I call all the apartment places in town

Everything is dangerous and scary and nobody understands what I'm going through and I just want to be able to leave my apartment and get normal groceries without being overwhelmed for fucks sake

I want to be able to work on my art and I can't even do a job

This is crippling this is fucking crippling

I shouldn't have to figure out how to turn my closet into a quiet space to get away from all the noise

I haven't had any issues with this and I've lived here for 5 years.

And now I'm the racist bitch Karen that everybody hates hearing from and no one solves the problem so I'll quit calling

I'm sure if another person of color went to the office and had a giant tantrum that things would get done

And yes I do believe that people of color can be racist towards white people and I used to not think that but I've experienced it myself and it's not fun and I have never been awful to another person of color like that and I don't understand why people not even in that way come after me and treat me like shit

Like why does every experience I have have to be mostly terrible

I feel like nothing I do goes unpunished

I'm nice I get punished I mean I get punished I try to stay neutral I get punished I breathe wrong I get punished I speak wrong I get punished I can't read people's tones I get punished it's all punishment my entire life has been being punished

I don't even think my parents realized how incredibly fucked up they are

I wish for once a therapist would call them out on their bullshit and tell them off because I'm tired of not being heard or understood and repeating things that doctors have told me to my parents and they don't believe me because they need to hear It from the professional

I know my own body and my brain as much as I possibly can why would I be not a good source of information about myself

I don't even feel like my parents want to be my parents or want anything to do with me

I don't think they wanted anything to do with me for a long time

I feel like they planned me and then I became an accessory and then I gained autonomy and they didn't want to play with me anymore just set me aside with the other cabbage patch dolls

I mean our dogs got more attention than I did and my parents will argue with you all day long about that

I mean they not only hoarded things but they hoarded animals and before it was dog piss and shit all over the house

And my sister verbally attacked my mother because she got teased by kids in school because she smelled like cat piss and dog piss all the time because my parents couldn't wash her fucking clothes correctly and do anything to help her Actually they probably did more things for her than they ever did for me she has no idea what kind of abuse I went through

She really has no clue what I've gone through she has not experienced anything that I've gone through

She thinks that my dad telling her to get out of the car because she's probably being an asshole honestly and getting yelled at by him is the worst thing ever well he doesn't put his fucking hands-on her like he did me

And him helping me find an apartment it's not gonna win him his daughter back

I know what cycle is going on

It's just another abuse cycle

I wish that he had the intelligence to know that there is something wrong with him and to go get treatment foright like I wish someone would ask him well if you know you have these problems and you know that you can't control yourself and you know you did something wrong and you're mad at yourself then why don't you just go talk to somebody about it or take a fucking pill if that helps

I would give anything for my grandmother's to be here to just take me away from these people and help me but it's not possible

I'm so tired

[inevitably-johnlocked]

✨When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy! Then, send to the last ten people in your notifications anonymously. You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity✨

Hey Nonny!

Ooof this got lost in a bunch of stuff! Sorry about missing it! Only remembered it because I saw a similar ask on my dash hahha.

Seems like a good day to do this, since I'm so tired and exhausted and I need something to make me smile.

Dragons. Just everything and anything with dragons. I'm fascinated with them. If you buy or make me anything with dragons, I automatically love you.

I finally bought myself my iPad I've been saving up for for *literally* 3 years. Because I was saving up for a trip this year that I am no longer taking (was planning a 40th birthday trip to Disney, but now am not going to Florida at all until they get their shit together), I took some of that money also to buy it and bought a top-of-the-line one, the best I could buy at the local Apple store (1TB, 12.9inch Pro... you don't want to know how much it was :|). I love it so much, and it's nice to use it to get off my laptop. I mostly was prompted to buy it now because it was my 40th birthday gift to myself AND my Wacom driver kept crashing my laptop and I'm scared to reinstall it hahah.

Funko Pops. I LOVE them and hate them. I only collect ones from series and shows I like, but I have WAY too many of them that most are in storage right now. I want to get my own home soon so I can display them finally. I am constantly checking the app for upcoming Funkos, and then immediately check my local toy store for their preorders. My local toy store must love me, I have SO much on preorder right now.

Drawing and writing. I'm alright at both, but I've terrible imposter syndrome so I feel like I'm not good at either, mainly because I don't get much traction on either when I post. I've a few people who always help me get it out, but I these days I do it for me, because it makes me happy.

Video Games. Currently playing AC Valhalla, and I LOVE it so much that I ended up buying the Season Pass. I RARELY buy DLC. But the game was SO good and I wanted more, so I needed to play the expansions. PERSONALLY it's my fave of the new trilogy, and because it's a "current" game, it's always got new stuff. Love it. My fave game EVER is Kingdom Hearts 2. I love the story of it so much. Skyrim is a close second – I like Skyrim because I put in over 200 hours in ALL versions I've played, and still there's so much I have to do hahah. AC New Trilogy is third. I liked DA Inquisition but never finished it, and I still have a bunch of games I bought last Christmas I have yet to play, so my list may change... it's highly unlikely though.

So there you have it Nonny! I think it's good I waited until I was in a better mood to answer this... People stopped sending me these because I was always so negative in them, I guess... I hope I get more of things like this when my asks go back on.

Can I also give you 5 things I'm looking forward to? I feel like that will help me keep a positive attitude for a bit.

My current work contract is almost done, and I'll get some downtime before I have to start my normal day-job again. Looking forward to my weekends back.

My broken foot seems to be healing REALLY quick. Yesterday was the first day I woke up without it hurting, and today I've been able to hobble around on my heel (as per my doctor's instructions that I need to start doing once my foot stopped hurting). I'm optimistic that I'll be given the okay to drive again during my next appointment on the 30th. I am going nuts not being able to leave home on my own accord.

So in Canada, we have this thing where you can take out your RSPs tax-free for three things: Retirement, First Time Home Ownership, and Second Education. I set up my RSPs WAY back when I was making piss-poor salary about 10 years ago, and I wanted to make sure that I at LEAST could have SOMETHING when I retired. I recently discovered I maxed out the amount of money I can take out for First Time Homeownership in my RSP, so my plans to home ownership are looking more and more realistic. I just wish owning a home wasn't so expensive where I live (major city in one of the most expensive provinces in Canada). It's hard when you're single-income. Here's hoping that I can make it a reality soon. The idea is a condo, I just have very expensive tastes (safe-neighbourhoods apparently justify a 10,000$+ more in cost :/) so I keep saving into my various accounts and GICs that I set up after I finally was making a liveable salary, so as long as I keep being humble and living below my means, I can finally get what I save up for... if only the cost of housing would SLOW THE FUCK DOWN. It's gone up 100K in just a year. It's insane.

I also saved up enough for a new couch thanks to a second contract I took during my CURRENT contract, which paid me exactly enough for the couch I want to get (I may or may not have strategically negotiated that contract, LOL). I've been needing a new couch for years; the one I currently have, I have sentimental attachment to (it was my dad's and is over 20 years old) but working at home for almost 2 years, I've worn it out and it's SO VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. It's barely staying together. Looking forward to getting it :) ... Was waiting until cooler months since I have to put it together myself (IKEA) and my apt is SO hot in the summer, no way I can do it then.

Having my asks turned back on. I'm sorry, it sounds so cheesy and dumb, but I don't have many RL friends or connections, and you guys help me stay positive and help keep my negative thoughts at bay. The dark thoughts have been coming in a lot lately, to the point where I've convinced myself that no one missed me and no one cares, so it's helped having a few of my regulars and mutuals check up on me in DMs during all this. Thank you <3 I don't always reply back, but your love is appreciated <3

Thank you again Nonny for asking me this <3 And I hope you don't mind I answered more than you asked <3

[rivermouths]

i am starting to seriously believe in some kind of spirituality or karmic energy or daily impact from god or something because the amount of sheer good luck i’ve had in the process of planning my wedding is insane:

I really dislike wedding dresses in general and was very resistant to the culture / cost of an actual “wedding” dress. I was about to buy just a random cheap silk white slip thing when like my favorite designer possible had a flash sale of things that were from a previous season, and I somehow scooped the dress of my dreams for like 65 percent off.

after hyping myself up to actually spend what was still a significant amount of money, when I was buying the dress, somebody had bought the last one in my supposed size AS I WAS CHECKING OUT. after a few moments of panic, my friend who is studying to design clothes convinced me that the next size down would be okay. something about the cut of the dress and the way that the fabric was structured. despite my measurements being almost exactly what was required for my size, I ended up just going for it, and it's actually a perfect fit.

the dress came with a really small dark stain because they packed it in a BLACK garment bag. I think the bag got wet or something because there was a bit of an area around the stain where the silk got a little distressed and was kind of out of place? If that makes sense? it was definitely visible on the sleeve, and I was pretty certain I was fucked and would have to return it. it’s a stretch silk that should never have touched water. I brought it in to this wedding dress restoration place near me and was super nervous that I was watching this thing slip away. they got the fucking stain out in like five minutes and were able to kind of steam the distressed spot back into place. she did this free of charge for some reason.

I did not know that I was supposed to have my alterations booked at this point in the game (for everything else involving weddings having an insane wait list, you’d have thought that I would have expected the same for a specialty seamstress, but) and the same place that cleaned the dress just so happened to have exactly 2 appointments spread across the next 2 months, which is exactly the time frame / number of alterations that I need. the seamstress is only in on saturdays, and had exactly one initial alterations opening in august and exactly one follow-up appointment opening in september.