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mommalosthermind · 5 months

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I’ve gotten a handful of ‘she talks fanfic with her kids? She knows her kids preferences? I’d die of embarrassment. Wild.’

And Y’all. I get it, but also, do you know how sad that is?

Some of that is a hold-over from when it was considered a literal mental disorder. Women were fired, divorced, had their children forcibly stolen from them, were institutionalized. For reading fanfic. It was an extreme taboo with extreme consequences if the wrong person found out you were reading about Kirk and Spock, for fuck’s sake.

Some of that is just the shame the greater world or your own family have pressed deep into you over your interests. You learned not to share anything you love, that way it can’t be used to hurt you.

Some of that is an extension of folk assuming all fic is the porniest porn to ever porn, and the purity resurgence is screwing with your brain.

I get that, I do. I was the kid who’d get right in your face and out-cruel people who’d shit on things I showed an interest in, but I still won’t tell my mother what I write. That’s mine, and I shouldn’t have to fight anyone about it.

But I was also the kid who never had anyone to talk to. Never had anyone to be excited with.

Why wouldn’t I be that person for my own kids? Why would I NOT want to know what fandom’s eating them up today? Which character won’t stop clawing at the walls in their heads?

Why wouldn’t I take full advantage to give them a place where they can be happy? Excited? Where they can SHARE the things they love?

And, frankly, it’s always a wild ride to see what catches them. My eldest (14) writes the most violent things. They like to take characters and break them even more than canon did, and see all the ways they can put that character back together. Do they realize they’re exploring trauma, recovery, human relationships? Fuck no, but I do, and when we talk through it, we can talk about all those things. They like to write about love that transcends everything else. Unconditional acceptance. That means I’m doing something right somewhere, because it’s so intrinsic to how they think.

The middle kid, (12), he likes to write fantasy self insert epics. He gets to be the overpowered guy who also gets the guy at the end. He’s enjoying really breaking down the fight scenes, how the weapons work, spies and double-crossings, magic powers, shit like that. But what he’s also writing is found family. Getting angry and overcoming it. Looking at a shit situation and committing to making it better. Standing up for yourself, for those who can’t stand up for themselves. He’s allowing himself to be loud in a way he doesn’t usually in real life.

Do you know what I got when my therapy-mandated anger journal was purposely unearthed and read by my mother? I got the shit kicked out of me. My kid seeks me out. He sits in my lap as best a 12 year old who is taller than me can, and he goes, hey can we work through this scene I wrote when I was mad together?

Why wouldn’t I want to be part of that? It’s the same for what they read. I want to know. They’re excited! They have thoughts and ideas and guesses and why would I ever make them feel like they’re not allowed to be happy about the things they love?

They’re reading same-sex, bi, trans, ace, aro experiences, and those are helping them find the labels that fit themselves best right now. I want to be part of that, I should be part of that. They should know this bedrock is unconditional because it fucking well is.

I’ve been told my entirely-Blasé approach to sex is weird, and it probably is, especially in the current purity bullshit. But also: sex happens. Sex ed is so laughable here I was told tampons will kill me and I thought babies came out of the belly button until i was like ten. I’m very open with my kids about all of these things because it’s important. They need to know. They need to feel safe talking to me about it. No matter what the fuck it is.

I dunno guys. I know why so many folks’ immediate reaction is “oh fuck no I would never,” but have any of those folks considered being the wall? Keeping all that shit behind them so the next crop of kids gets to have something better than we did?

Let the kids around you be kids in a way you weren’t allowed.

TLDR: Don’t talk about things you love to people who use that to hurt you. But maybe realize you can be the person someone else goes to just to squee.

#Momma talks #fanfic #families #my kids #queer #anti purity culture #pro talk to your goddamn kids

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mandolin22 · 1 year

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Therapy

~ Part 7 ~

Warnings: 🌶smut, heavy smut, don’t come at me heavy smut….put me in jail and throw away the keys type of smut…. I warned y’all. 🫠

Tags: @minagrayson @thighella @bontensbabygirl @theboggyman

——————

“What did you think I meant when I told you that you are mine? Mine and only mine.” He asks…but not really asking.

Your jaw drops,

“I didn’t want that! I was ending things with him!”

“That explains why he was all over you. Why he was on top of you.” He argues.

“He forced himself on me! I had to just accept it so I wouldn’t get hurt! ….. What, do you think I liked that?! Oooo yeah it felt soooo good! Ahhhhh yesss….” You dramatically and mockingly moan, running your hands over your body.

He forcefully pushes you into the wall, his hand slamming on the wall next to you, his other grabbing you face.

“Look at me…LOOK AT ME!” He says.

You can’t get yourself to meet his eyes, you can’t figure out if you’re attracted to this or if you’re terrified.

“I don’t ask twice. You know this.” He grabs your chin roughly and forces you to look at him. “Pitiful.” He shakes his head,“You know better…don’t you? My queen.”

Okay, he can’t be too mad, he called you his queen.

He suddenly he pushes his body harshly against yours pinning you even more between the wall as he rips your shirt off. So you’re, once again, no longer covered by anything in his presence.

You’re nervous to move even a single muscle unless he tells you to, it would probably be best not to test him right now.

He brushes your lips with his thumb, as he decides what to do with you. “I was gentle with you at first but you receive the same treatment now. Do you understand me?”

You nod your head. He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.” You say.

“Yes what?”

“Yes my king.” You respond to his likeness.

He stares you down, his eyes darkened, your breathing intensified.

“I’m sorry,” you plead.

“Too late.” He growls.

He grabs you from the wall and leads you by your neck pushing you onto the bed. He’s over you in an instant, claiming what is his, his hands gripping your waist roughly, his lips on your collarbone immediately.

You reach to grab him but he pins your arms down and looks at you, “No. Since you couldn’t listen to me before you will now.” He doesn’t let your arms budge as he attacks your breasts and trails down your stomach.

He gets down between your legs and plunges his tongue inside of you, keeping you contact with you the entire him time he tastes you. He knows his effect he has in you with his moans and he will not give you that pleasure for as long as he can help it.

You are a moaning mess as he eats you, his sucking and twirling motions sends you into bliss. You quickly near your climax so he pulls away not letting you have that pleasure. You whimper as he makes eye contact with you seeking approval regardless of his mood which you give a slight nod, he opens your legs and plunges himself into you with no additional warning or ease, causing you to cry out. His jaw tightens as he aggressively thrusts into you, his hands lifting your hips and slamming yourself into him and he does into you. He lets a growl escape his lips, you just feel so good. Even if he is pissed at you, only you alone can make him this way. He pulls out and flips you over into your stomach, pushes your head down onto the bed and plunges back into you from the back. He grips your butt pulling you to and from him, filling the house with loud clapping, moaning and grunting.

“Namor! Please!” You gasp.

He grips a hand full of your hair and pulls you up to him making you cry out in pain and pleasure. His arm wraps around you holding you against him so you can feel the sweat dripping from his body. His other on the wall propping you both up as he continues to aggressively destroy you.

“Who do you belong to?” He grunts.

You keep moaning in response but that’s not good enough for him, he tightens his grip on you, “who!”

“You! Namor, my king” you cry out as he continues to roughly hit your spots.

He pushes you off and gets off of the bed, pulls you to the edge and thrusts back into you. He pushes your legs to your chest and spits on his hand putting his hand back to work on you as he keeps aggressively pounding into you. You desperately gasp for air, not knowing how you’re still alive.

If any neighbors were home they would definitely be hearing every single noise coming from this room. His chest heaves up and down as he intently watches you squirm and cry out. He takes his hand away from you places then on your breasts.

“He can here you.” Namor says. You eyes grow wide…he planned this he had to.

“Namor-“ you whimper.

“Louder!” He urges as his hand grips your neck with just the right amount of pressure and he continues filling up the room with every noise imaginable.,

“Please!” You beg. “I’m going-“

He stops and climbs back on top of you, passionately kissing you. He pulls away and looks you in the eyes, you meet his eyes once you catch your breath.

“I’m done with that, you are going to come with me, mi reina.” He brushes a stand of hair from your face and places a soft kiss on your temple. You nod and he eases himself back into you, allowing you to touch him. You grasp into his back, clawing for him. He finally lets his moans out for you, causing more to come from you.

“Mi amor…ughh…come on… like that…good job come on….” He groans, breath hitching.

“Ah….please…gahhh!”

“Go ahead” he breathlessly says allowing you to finally release. “Ohh…Namor…Namor….gahh…” you cry out his name and he hits his climax with you calling out yours.

He stops and kisses you softly. He looks softly into your eyes, “You we’re so good for me. Good girl.” He says seductively. You absolutely would go again with him after those words came out of his mouth but then you remembered something he said….

“Um…where is he…?” You ask.

"Mmm" he is muffled in your neck.

"Namor." You sit up. He looks at you as you ruined him falling asleep on you.

"Where is he?" You ask again.

He lays back down and mumbles, "Laying on the floor in front of the couch."

You get up, grabbing a robe to put over yourself. You make your way to the living room where you see him still laying. You grab him by the rope around his arms, you untie him and tell him to get out and never come back. He just looked at you in awe and or disgust you couldn't decide but whichever it was...honestly it was worth it for him to know he could never even come close to making you feel how Namor does...physically and emotionally.

#marvel #spotify #namor #namor x y/n #tenoch huerta #black panther #marvel imagine #namor the sub mariner #wakanda forever #imagines #marvel imagines #namor imagine #namorxreader #smut

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triplexdoublex · 10 months

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pls the way y’all act like y’all know everything about megan and cols is hysterical. Y’all saw a post she made about dealing with trauma and assumed it had to be about him as if this woman isn’t openly bi in a homophobic world, isn’t being attacked for letting her kids dress as they please literal DAYS ago, hasn’t gone through a divorce where her ex husband used her kids against her, doesn’t deal with body dysmorphia, and hasn’t been blacklisted and attacked her entire career.

EST makes drama where there is none and then complains about the drama you made up in your head with absolutely 0 proof that the drama you believe is happening is *actually* happening. Kells could say “spent the day with Casey” and y’all would find a way to start drama by saying “Megan never lets him see Casey!!111!1,1!1 that’s why he had to post about!!,!’”

Seek therapy for your parasocial relationships oh my god. For people that hate her so much y’all are fckn obsessed.

It seems the Megan fans have found my blog 🙄

She literally posed with a “broken” wrist next to a domestic violence/human trafficking poster with lyrics about cheating along with earlier pics of her cast with a caption along the lines of “trying to come up reasons what I did to deserve this” sooo that’s why we “assumed” Colson.

Shes a psychopath and destroyed her and Brains house when she got mad and drew all over their walls with sharpie, so it’s probably for the best that Brain has the kids more than her anyways.

She was blacklisted be she falsely accused Michael Bay of sexual harassment so she could be part of the Me too movement because she’s “such a feminist” and then back peddled so fast saying her words were misunderstood.

“Attacked her entire career” …. funny kinda like how Colson’s career is being attacked thanks to her now.

You wanted proof there’s your proof

Y’all Megan lovers can argue to yourselves in my inbox all y’all want I’ll just turned anon off again

#machine gun kelly #mgk #colson baker #megan fox

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galactic-magick · 3 years

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I Promise: Iida x Reader

Summary: Iida finds you late at night after an anxiety attack and commits himself to helping you get better and being there for you.

Words: 1300+

Warnings: anxiety attacks, hurt/comfort, a swear I think

Author’s Notes: Iida is underrated I’m in love with him so here y’all go my fellow simps

After grabbing a snack and some water, you settle down on the couch in the common area. It’s late and no one else is here, but you like it that way. Whenever you can’t sleep, you’ve found getting a change of scenery for a bit can help, especially after what you just went through.

Your anxiety attacks have gotten worse and more frequent lately, and it’s taking a toll on pretty much everything in your life. You’re struggling to eat and sleep and study, and spend most of your time in your room out of fear of bothering everyone else. Of course you know everyone’s going through similar things, but it still feels like it’s harder for you. Even with all the support the school is offering, it doesn’t fix all the trauma you’ve experienced in your time here.

The worst of it is over now, your body isn’t shaking anymore, but you’re still tense. Your face is still wet from the tears and your hair is a mess, but you can’t bring yourself to care, especially since you’re alone.

“Who’s there?” a voice demands, making you jump. The figure comes into the dim light, revealing it to be Iida. “Y/N?”

You nod, trying to hide your face and smoothing your hair.

“It’s late. It’s against the rules to be up and about during these hours,”

“You’re up and about during these hours,”

He winces a bit at your accusation, “As class rep, I always check on everything at night at least once. It’s my job, therefore I am above that rule,”

“Right,” you say, going back to your snack and water.

Iida moves in front of you, making it impossible for you to avoid his gaze, “You need to go back to bed,”

“I will, I promise. I’m just…not feeling good,”

“Would you like me to take you to see Recovery Girl?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think it’s something she can fix,” you try to hold it back, but a few tears start falling again.

Iida’s expression softens, and he takes a seat next to you on the couch, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing…I’ve just been having some anxiety attacks and the only thing that seems to help is sitting out here, but I guess that’s not allowed,”

“I-“ he watches you, unsure what to do to soothe you. “I suppose we can make an exception,”

A small smile breaks through the tears, “Thanks,”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I started having them after the first villain attack, but since then with everything else that’s happened they’ve gotten worse, and now I’m having them pretty much every night,”

There’s a silence.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally says. “I promise I will do everything I can to help,”

You sigh, “I just…I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,”

“I promise,” he says more firmly.

Well, he certainly did keep his promise. Every single night after that, he’d wait on the couch for a couple hours after everyone else had gone to bed, there for you in case you couldn’t sleep again. Since that was pretty much every time, you end up spending a lot of nights together.

He talks to you for however long you need, helping you distract yourself and wind down. He checks on you during the day as well, making sure you’re managing okay despite your lack of rest and peace.

He encourages you to seek outside help as well, but he doesn’t push you. UA offers free counseling and therapy for all students, and even though you’ve gone a few times, you finally decide to start going more consistently. You’re not expecting a magical fix, but at the very least it feels nice to talk to someone who specializes in dealing with what you are.

Some of the other students have taken notice to Iida’s special treatment, and how you’re the only one he’ll allow to bend the rules. Most of them are annoyed by it but don’t bother to point it out, but some of them have no problem voicing their opinions.

“Why do you only get mad when I’m late to class?”

“How come it’s okay for Y/N to bake a cake at 2AM but I can’t?”

Thankfully they’re not necessarily aiming their frustrations at you. After all, it’s not your fault Iida wanted to help you. You’re grateful of course, but you didn’t ask for it.

A couple months go by and you’re doing a bit better. Your therapist offered to notify your doctor so you might be able to get on medication. The anxiety attacks haven’t stopped, but they’ve lessened to a few times a week rather than every single night. Iida’s always waiting for you when you have them, there to get you whatever you need.

A couple of your classmates have asked you if you’re dating, and honestly you’ve never really considered anything like that. From the beginning you assumed he genuinely wanted to help you, and he’d do this for anyone, right?

Of course he would. Why would he even like you anyway since he always saw you at your worst?

You brush off the question.

Unfortunately, just as you think things are getting better, tonight it all breaks down. You haven’t had one this bad in a while, and you’re not really sure what brought it on, but as soon as you’re able to move you run to the common room.

Iida is there as usual, with an unusual expression on his face. He appears happy to see you, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. He puts down the textbook he was reading and meets your gaze, tears streaming down your face.

Without thinking, you collapse onto him, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, but cautiously wraps his arms around you, holding you tight.

He doesn’t loosen his grip for a single second until your cries slow down, enough so you can pull away and look at him.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble.

“I assure you that you did nothing wrong,”

You nod, not bothering to argue any further.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, actually…” you say. “You’re really calming I guess,”

“I’m glad,” he smiles.

You adjust a bit so your head is resting against his shoulder, “Is it okay if I stay here? Until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,”

“I knew something was going on!”

“Don’t worry guys, I’m getting a bunch of blackmail pictures!”

“Should we tell Professor Aizawa?”

“Nah, this is too funny!”

“Maybe you guys should just leave them alone…”

“Fuck off, Deku,”

Your eyes flutter open to see almost your whole class watching you, and you jump off the couch. Iida wakes from the commotion as well, standing up and looking at everyone.

“Delete those right this second!” he scolds them.

“No, I don’t think I will,”

“So did you guys…like…” Mineta snickers.

“NO!”

You run back towards your room and Iida follows you, leaving all the gossiping behind.

“I sincerely apologize,” he says after catching up to you. “I never meant to fall asleep as well, I was going to carry you back to your bed, but-“

“Iida, it’s okay,” you laugh. “That was embarrassing, yeah, but it was worth it. I slept better than I have in years last night,”

“That’s…good to hear,” he nods.

You shift on your feet, “You’re sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable? It’ll never happen again if it did-“

Suddenly his arms are around you again in the warmest hug you’ve ever experienced, and you feel like you might cry again.

“You could never make me feel uncomfortable,” he squeezes you once more before pulling away, his hands still on your shoulders. “I’ll see you in class, alright?”

“Okay,” you smile, still a bit in shock from the gesture, watching him walk away back to his own room.

#iida x reader #tenya iida x reader #iida #tenya iida #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia

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pretend-im-interesting-asap · 3 years

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songs i think maven has on his playlists pt. 2

literally this man is so sad like babes please get some therapy. all of these are going to be somewhat sad whoops. enjoy.

heavy angst, mild spoilers, unorganized

i did this on mobile😩☝️

Blondie- Current Joys

maven likes to think he finds super underground music when in reality he’s finding it after everyone else did LMAO

this reminds him of watching cal succeed so easily

in the back of his head he was happy

elera had twisted his feelings so much he didn’t feel anything but jealousy

he would never show it but he knew cal was the sun and he was the moon circling him

Careless Whisper- George Michael

he thinks of mare every time

the minute she accepted the dance lessons from cal maven knew that she would never be his

he sits up at night wondering how it would’ve gone if he had taught her instead

if kissing her while dancing would change the outcome and if she would have stayed

deep down he knows it was inevitable

that he was damaged goods

Red Eye- Vance Joy

lowkey he fucks with vance joy

sis loves him especially his songs about me enthralled with someone

he eats it UP

y’all maven misses mare sm like PLEASE seek mental help

he wanted mare to give him a second chance so badly

he knew she was never going to give it to him so he took it from her

#kingscage

Visions of Gideon- Sufjan Stevens

girl ik he watched call me by your name and SOBBED

he rewatches it to feel something

he subconsciously tries to live through elio because it’s the love he never got to experience with thomas

he was never given the opportunity to love thomas the way he deserved

there’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t have a pit that wells up in his stomach

he is filled with such longing and regret

Screaming Infidelities- Dashboard Confessional

he listens to this with anger

he is so angry that he was the second choice to someone who he shouldn’t have even met

at some point he’ll get so angry that he cries

the type where he cries so hard he throws up

he also gets angry at mare for ruining his life, when this happens he chooses to not acknowledge his own choices and just wants to be mad without remorse

is very mad at cal too. like blow up a building mad.

Brother- Gerard Way

HE CARES FOR CAL A LOT OK

maven misses him so much it hurts him

he literally sits in cals old room just to have a piece of him

he won’t let them clean it out, even after elera’s death

he likes how cluttered it is

it leaves no room for thoughts

honorable mentions!

Two Ghosts- Harry Styles

Everybody- Mac Miller

Home- Cavetown

Vienna- Billy Joel

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 3 years

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More therapy thoughts part 1/?

Behavior Theory Frameworks/Conditioning and What the fuck does Master Chief talk about in therapy?

Ramblings below - like a lot, like I spent too much time writing this and you should not read this

Behavioral Theory could work well as a framework with rehabilitating Spartan IIs if the case worker focused on Operant Conditioning Theory and Cognitive Social Learning Theory, which I talked about in this ask because I think I’m funny and this blog is an archive of me applying human behavior theories to video games.

Spartans have always been taught the mission comes first! Always! The 2s are indoctrinated from age 6-14 and then have that reinforced the rest of their lives. From the beginning they are taught to push themselves to the limits, earn their food by winning, form bonds with teammates but be ready to sacrifice them for the mission. The whole lives wasted vs spent conversation between John and Mendez after the augmentation surgery!

What the UNSC/ONI wants comes before their lives, the lives of other soldiers, civilians, AI etc. This constant conditioning of expectations and rewards has created the norms cemented in their minds. This becomes standard operating procedure.

Spartans are also an entirely separated social group, other people have made really great posts on how they are Othered and have their own way of communicating with body language. ODSTs hate Spartans, marines see them as cyborgs or saviors, and while they’re allies, Spartans are not seen or treated as human, by literally everyone. They are a means to an end, with the original goal being to maintain the UNSC’s position of power and crush the insurrectionists in the outer colonies, but uh oh Aliens!

Maybe the 2s aren’t as expendable as the 3s but the mindset and reinforcement of “mission first, people second” being repeated their entire lives is going to stick. So is the constant mistreatment and abuse from their fellow soldiers and handlers.

Addressing the cognitive distortions that come from their upbringing while also balancing the fact that Spartans are so fundamentally different from the way they developed to survive would be so much work, especially considering how much information on them is given to their therapist. The main distortion I would apply is minimization, making large problems small and not properly dealing with them, and specifically for John, personification, accepting blame for negative events without sufficient evidence.

Like these are grown ass super soldiers who can kill you in less than a second and calculate the amount of gravity in a room on the fly but then also can flounder when trying to comfort civilians or make small talk because their experiences and values are so alien to adults who had more developmentally “normal” lives.

Literally applying therapy to Spartans would be like, what was done to you was wrong, the ends do not justify the means, you were children and the adults in your life failed to protect you. You are a human person who is fallible and did the best you could with what you had. And the Spartan would say, “sounds fake but okay, can I pass my psych eval and go back to war now please?”

Jumping back to Behavior Theory

Different approaches to therapy under the Behavior Theory umbrella help modify negative behaviors with treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical behavior therapy that teach individuals adaptive coping like emotional regulation, distress tolerance, cognitive distortions, and interpersonal communication. And that’s just one framework under the umbrella of human behavior theories.

Social work therapy is different from psych as it approaches individuals with heavily researched, evidence-based theories and frameworks in a holistic viewing of person-in-environment, instead of a strong focus on internal psychology.

Social work looks at all the interacting systems, environment, history, and internal and external factors affecting an individual. One of the most useful frameworks is the Biopsychosocial-Spiritual Frameworks (BPSS) when helping a client. It helps with identifying all the intersecting factors, both risk and protective, that shapes a client’s lived experiences. The most important thing to remember is that the individual is an expert in their own life, they know their experiences best.

The hardest part is applying this to Spartans because they Are So Fucked, their lived experiences, their environments and systems and institutions interacting with them, and the amount of their personal information that is probably so classified.

BPSS is a tool to help social workers assess individuals and their situations by collecting info that is related to the presenting issues and current and past circumstances. Info like medical history, hospitalizations, substance abuse, mental illness, personal relationships, family history and background, culture and norms, education, legal history, spirituality and participation etc. is all under this framework.

For Spartan 2s most of this info is lost or classified and helping someone who has repressed every negative emotion they've had for the sake of the mission would be so much to unpack but that’s also why you’re reading the mad ramblings over an over caffeinated nerd on the internet.

Life Course Theory which looks at developmental milestones and the individual’s experiences versus the socially expected markers, how do you apply that to children who were taken and have lived such different lives?

While early adolescence is when “normal” development of thoughts of self and identity take place alongside the physical changes of puberty, Spartans were being turned into emotionless calculating weapons. Sorry John, no forming a sense of identity and peer bonds for you, go kill that Watts guy who betrayed us and joined the insurrectionists.

And now that I’ve gone this insane and opened 2 whole textbooks up, let’s get to Master Chief thoughts. If you’ve read this far thank you, I swear I’m normal, 2020 has just been a weird year.

Why the fuck did I think I could write a therapy fic on a guy with 20 minutes of actual dialogue across almost 2 decades of games?

I make fun of him and call him a himbo, but he’s smart, he knows he’s being used and there is resentment there that’s been building for years.

There’s also decades of trauma and combat experience, physical, and emotional abuse, the lack of a support network, lack of an identity, the biological factors and aftermath of the augmentations and injuries he’s received, a whole lot of grief and self-inflicted guilt.

The loss of a third of his peer group with the augmentation surgery, Sam’s death, the loss of Reach (the only place he’s considered home), Keyes, the Pillar of Autumn crew, Miranda Keyes, Johnson, Cortana. He cares about the marines who fight with him!!!

He just stands there and takes it and rarely snaps, and even then it’s just small cracks on the surface with fissures running deep. The few details I will pull from Halo 5 are Blue Team’s reactions to John pushing himself so hard from the beginning of the game, and the literal crack in his armor from the fight with Locke. Like dude.

John’s a leader and will get the mission done but he tugs on the leash. He’s earned enough of a reputation and uses it to get his way.

Halo 2’s “Permission to leave the station” with Mr. “I’m going to hand deliver a bomb to the fusion reactor of a covenant supercarrier and hope my friends catch me”.

Halo 4 is when we see him say no to a superior officer and then 5 is him going AWOL. Palmer literally points out that no one is going to stop him.

Halo 5 kills me for many reasons but John bringing up Halsey and what she did to him and also pointing out that he knows Halo 5 Cortana is trying to manipulate him with psychological tactics hurts.

He knows what’s been done to him!

I cannot remember which book it was but John isn’t used to working alone. He literally takes fire because he was expecting someone to have his back!

He’s lost without Cortana! She was in his brain! Y’all! I played Halo Combat Evolved on the original xbox when I was like 8 and I knew these two were meant to be together. From the moment they met they had great chemistry and relied on each other! Cortana literally goes after people who have it out for John! John wants her approval and shows off for her in one of the books.

I’ve already written too much here but like all of the games have John showing off for Cortana, making dry jokes, jumping out of things he shouldn’t.

The whole point of this rambling is to try and get my thoughts about how to approach John’s character under control.

And that’s the thing. He’s lost control. He’s lost people, he’s losing his position and being phased out as an aging spartan, a relic. John’s used to following orders and making some decisions on the battlefield but it was always short term.

He has no identity beyond being a weapon. Complete the mission, clear the LZ, get put in cryo. Rinse, repeat.

The timeline of the games are what I'm most familiar with but with the comics and books too it’s one long run from Halo 2 to Halo 4. Cairo station to the Dreadnought to the crash landing to Forward Unto Dawn to Requiem to “The Didact is Dead but not really but we’ll deal with him off-screen”.

I know Hood apparently gave John R&R orders before Halo 5 that he ignored and kept running himself into the ground. This is a man who has to keep moving and keep being useful.

I imagine him giving in and seeking help as a last resort to fix any problems he has with performing his duties rather than helping himself be healthier.

Any professional he sees is going to have to approach him like they’re approaching a self sacrificing feral cat, with lunch meat and quiet. This man needs to have his support network closer, set up long term goals, and do some serious, and most likely incredibly painful, self reflection on where he’s come from and where he wants to go. Get him out of that tin can and into therapy. I don’t have a nice neat ending because this was a ramble and also therapy is not neat and tidy. Thanks for reading my words about mr halo

#this is not coherent but it needs out of my brain #John - has different characterizations based on what media he's in #Me - my writing must be in character or I Will Die #also me - we don't talk about halo 5 but i will loot its corpse for bits of lore I like #im sorry for being like this #my writing #Therapy time #John 117 #this is not a halo blog #haha this was peer reviewed nonsense #thanks yall for enabling me #i have even more ideas for the infinity sitcom folder now

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norequestimagines · 5 years

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Safeguard [Pt. 2]

TW: domestic violence, smut

Thank you all for all the love on part one! Please go easy on me here, it’s my first time writing smut of any kind and it’s not very detailed. I tried lmao I hope y’all enjoy!

Josh helped my shaky body into the front seat of his truck before running around and getting in on the other side. The drive was quiet. I just didn’t know what to say. Being in his truck again felt like home and so uncomfortable simultaneously. There was so much left unsaid between us after the breakup, and now that such an emotional bomb had gone off, I just felt… overwhelmed.

“Hey, me again. I’m not mad or anything, Josh, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You said you’d be home at 7; it’s 9 now and I haven’t heard a thing from you or any of the guys… Kinda starting to freak out, here. I love you, okay? I hope you’re home soon.”

I’d texted him three times, called twice, and left one voicemail. Josh was forgetful, sure, but he wasn’t one to leave me waiting up with no explanation. He always shot me a quick “heading out with Seth and Boone, be home late!” text or at the very least had one of his buddies let me know, in the event his phone died or he left it at the arena. He’s never left me hanging like this before, and especially not on a night like tonight; our three year anniversary.

We’d agreed to do something low key this year. The past two years had been big nights out but both of us had been so busy with work we just wanted to take some time for a night in. I’d ordered food from our favorite restaurant and made sure the house had a relaxing, romantic but low key ambiance to it. Way too much time was spent perfecting my hair into beach waves. My outfit was simple; distressed skinny jeans and a chunky white cardigan. He’d said more than once that even though I looked incredible in a gown for his charity events and award ceremonies, that his favorite thing to see me in was an outfit like this, because it’s what he wants to come home to for the rest of his life. I just wish he’d come home now.

As I began to pack the food away, too sick with worry to eat any of it, my anxious mind began to wander. I started to put everything in the fridge and imagined all the terrible things that could’ve happened. What if he got into a car accident? Or he forgot to tell me he was going out with the guys and got into a bar fight and got arrested? What if he just completely forgot about tonight altogether? No, Josh would never forget our anniversary. But if he didn’t forget, he must be in jail or the hospital.

Attempting (and failing) to keep myself too busy to worry, I was folding laundry when I heard a door open and shut.

“Josh?!” I leapt out of my seat and ran to the living room where my boyfriend (who appeared safe and healthy and un-incarcerated) stood, hanging his jacket on the coat rack.

“Hey.” he muttered, not even looking up to face me.

I furrowed my brows, confused by the way he was acting. He was like this after a bad game sometimes but they didn’t have a game at all today. “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you; you had me worried, honey.”

“M’fine. Gonna go take a shower.” He trudged up the stairs and I figured it best to give him some space before prying.

Once I heard the shower shut off, I made my way upstairs to try to unpack whatever was weighing him down. He was sitting on his side of the bed in a pair of sweats, facing our bedroom window with his head held in his hands.

“You want to talk about it?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

“No.”

I wasn’t really sure where to go from here. Josh was never this cold with me. I slowly made my way to the bed, crawling to sit behind him before wrapping both my legs and arms around his middle.

“Where were you, baby? I was so worried.”

“Can I just have ten god damn minutes?!” He stood and held his hands up, clearly frustrated. With what, I didn’t know.

“I… Josh, I didn’t mean to…” I was at a loss. We’d gotten annoyed with each other, sure. What couple didn’t have arguments? But in the three years we’d been together, he’d never raised his voice at me. “It’s just, we made plans for tonight, and when you didn’t show up, I thought something had happened to you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, Kara, I couldn’t really care less right now about our stupid plans, alright? I know I skipped out on our anniversary. But maybe I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t cheated on me.”

I could do nothing but stare at him doe-eyed. It had never crossed my mind since meeting Josh to even look at another man, let alone do anything with one. I loved him so much I wasn’t sure I could ever be with anyone else again.

“Josh, what are you talking about?” I whimpered, tears already forming in my eyes.

“Don’t play fucking stupid. You got caught, alright? Just own up to it.” He looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe.

“I didn’t get caught because I didn’t do anything!”

“Oh, yeah? The explain Riley.”

Riley. That name automatically sent me to a dark place.

Riley and I met in high school. He ran with the popular crowd, I guess, but it’s not like he was captain of the football team or anything. He was just well liked. Funny and smart and kind to everyone, regardless of their popularity. We started talking when we were paired up during a project for art class. He was sweet; would always carry my books and walk me to class, sometimes even surprising me with a coffee or flowers at my locker in the morning. But, all that glitters isn’t always gold.

After we went to junior prom together, Riley and I began to get more serious. Over the summer, he’d convinced me to write off all of my friends because he just loved spending time with me so much, he wanted to spend it all with me. I quit the dance team because the form fitting costumes we wore made Riley uncomfortable. For a long time, found it endearing he cared so much. Until we left for college.

We both went to Ohio State and during sophomore year, we rented our first house together. That’s when things with Riley started turning really sour. I was expected to text Riley all day, every day, whether I was in a lecture, trying to take notes, or at work, trying to wait tables. My friends all had to be female, and if we ever went out, Riley had to come with, and had to approve my outfits before I was allowed to leave the house. One night, a guy from my chemistry class asked if he could come over to copy my notes from a day of class he missed. That was the first time Riley hit me.

It only got worse from there. He’d come to my work, ordering drinks all night from across the restaurant while watching me. When I talked too kindly with a customer, I’d get punished. If I sat next to a male in class or stood too close to a male at a football game, I’d get punished. He stayed clear of my face and arms, but my ribs and legs were constantly littered with bruises from where he’d hit and kicked me.

I deserved it. Riley convinced me of that. I didn’t love him enough and this was my punishment.

I didn’t seek help, myself. One night, Riley got sloppy and hit me across the face, resulting in a black eye. I covered as best I could with makeup the next morning before class but the guy from chemistry noticed. He’d text me during class for weeks, asking if I was okay, and if I needed help. Two weeks after the black eye, when Riley broke two of my ribs with his steel toed boots. The next morning, after Riley had left for work, I texted the guy from chem. “I need help.”

His mom had been a survivor of domestic abuse. She worked for the state now and gave me all the help I needed to get away from Riley. He was sent to jail for a while, and I went to therapy for years, trying to understand that this wasn’t my fault and I didn’t deserve it. I now had a restraining order against him and he hadn’t bothered me in years.

“Riley?! How do you even know that name?! Josh, I don’t know what the fuck is going on but I swear on my life I have never cheated on you!”

He scoffed, pulling up instagram on his phone. “Swear on this.” He threw his phone next to me on the bed.

I picked up the phone with shaking hands.

I saw Riley’s instagram account. There were pictures of him at work or with his family, but I also saw pictures of the two of us taken in college being posted as if they were taken now. Me sitting across from him in coffee shops and us holding hands in the streets of downtown Columbus. Captions reading, “if only you knew how much i loved you” and “can’t wait to see her again”. Tears began pouring freely down my face.

“Josh, no. No, no, no, you don’t understand. This isn’t… He’s-”

“Just fuckin’ let it go, Kara. I found you out.” He snatched his phone out of my hands. “Some fan DM’d me his page and he and I had a nice, lengthy chat about the two of you. I can work through a lot of shit, Kar, but this?! I can’t move past this. I’m done. I’ll find somewhere else to stay for the night. Try not to be here when I get back.”

Before I could even process what had just happened, he was out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the walls. I heard his truck start up and drive away.

I curled up in a ball and cried until I ran out of tears. I knew better than to try and call or text Josh. He needed to cool off and I needed to respect his space. I wrote him a letter before anything else, explaining my side of things. How Riley and I met and what he did to me. How I had a restraining order against him. How much I hated him and didn’t understand why he was doing this. I was so emotional while writing it, I can hardly remember what it said. I remember crying while writing it, my tears smudging the ink. After I’d gotten everything written down, I folded it up and slid it into an envelope, lying it on top of his pillow. He could read it whenever he was ready and that was the best I could do. Then, I packed a bag, called Boone, and hadn’t seen or heard from Josh since. Just like that.

Riley had sent me a DM after the incident, asking if he could meet me for coffee so we could talk things over. He had orchestrated this entire thing in an effort to get Josh away from me. It was a breach of the restraining order, but I didn’t want to stir things up. I just wanted the entire mess to go away. I ignored the message and a week later, he showed up at my work. I went into a full panic attack and called the police. He was in custody and I was pressing charges. I just wished I wasn’t going through it alone. I wanted Josh to be there, to stand behind me and quiet my mind when it got too loud. But he was nowhere to be found.

He never called. He never texted. I had no idea if he’d even read the letter or not. Boone said Josh refused to talk about anything having to do with me whatsoever. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad But it’d been two months of me moping around and being afraid of my own shadow, so when Boone begged me to go out, I agreed. I needed to feel something.

Lost in my memories, I hadn’t noticed the route we had taken. We were across town from my new apartment. We were at our place. Well, Josh’s place.

“What are we-”

“I just… figured you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight. That’s all.” He twiddled his thumbs against the steering wheel and bit his lip.

“Thank you.”

His eyes flashed to me quickly and widened. I assume he was expecting me to ask him to take me home, but as much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I had no interest in being alone right now.

Everything in the house was exactly the same. It’d been two months and he hadn’t even moved my scarf from the coat rack. Pictures of us still sat upon shelves. Even the Christmas decorations we’d put up together remained on the walls.

“You should take a shower, uh, clear your head. I’ll take the guest room.”

“You don’t have to do that, Josh. I can shower down here and take the guest room. You’ve already done more for me tonight than I could ever ask for.”

“Kara, please, just… just take our room, alright? I mean, my room. Or, uh... “ His hand moved to run through his hair and scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since we met.

An uncomfortable silence came upon us and I wanted to leave the area as quickly as I could.

“I’ll uh, I’ll take your bed.” Carefully, I walked upstairs as if the ground was made of glass.

I stood under scalding hot water for an hour after scrubbing every inch of my body, making sure to get every microbe from that creep off of me. Josh hadn’t even moved my soap, but craving familiarity and comfort, I opted to use his instead. The scent of cedar filled my nostrils, momentarily making me forget that ash tray scented prick from earlier.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around myself before noticing a few folded pieces of clothing on the counter that weren’t there when I got in. Sitting on top of them was a scratch piece of paper.

Closest I have to anything of yours. -J.

He left a pair of black sweats and a massive Columbus Blue Jays shirt. My favorite one that I’d stolen on more occasions that I could count. I smiled to myself before slipping his shirt on and leaving the sweats on the counter.

Being back in the bed felt odd. I was relatively used to sleeping in it alone from Josh going on road trips, but this was different. We’d never slept separately while in the same house before. Not even after a fight. We’d always curl up back to back and halfway through the night, he’d wrap around me, apologizing before kissing my neck and falling asleep. Couldn’t do that from downstairs, now could he? And of course, my mind ran a mile a minute, thinking of everything that could’ve happened tonight if Josh hadn’t been there. If he’d still been sick or knew I was going and wanted to avoid me. My restless body found itself tip-toeing down the stairs.

Raising my hand to knock on the guest room door, it opened before my knuckles could come into contact with it. His blue eyes widened at the sight of me. “I was just heading up to check on you.”

“I can’t um… C-can I sleep with you? I mean, just, I’m so jumpy and every little noise is- you know what? This is stupid, I’m sorry.” I scoffed and turned to head back upstairs.

“It’s not stupid Kar, you went through some crazy shit. C’mere.”

We laid next to each other in silence. As weird as it was to be in our old bed without him, this was even more uncomfortable.

“Are you okay? I mean, I know what he did was fucked up but he didn’t physically hurt you, did he?”

“No, no, you uh, you came in time. I’m okay.”

“Good.”

Another minute or two passed and my mind began to wander again.

“Josh, if you hadn’t been there…”

“Hey, come on, you can’t think like that. I was there, and you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

I looked over at him in the moonlight and took a sharp intake of breath. I just couldn’t stop replaying it in my head.

“Oh, Kara, honey.” I was pulled into his chest and began taking deep breaths, willing myself to keep it together. “I told you I’d always be here for you and I meant it, alright? Nothing is ever going to happen to you.”

I lifted my head, my sight flickering between his eyes and his lips. Inching forward, I swallowed nervously, afraid of rejection. Instead, Josh gently brushed a strand of damp hair behind my ear and slowly pulled me up to meet him.

The instant our lips touched, I felt fireworks in my stomach and moaned at the contact. I missed him so much. The kiss grew quickly, two months of not even speaking to each other catching up with us quickly. It turned from slow and hesitant to heated and passionate quickly. I began to run my hand down his clothed chest, pushing hands underneath his shirt and lifting it slightly.

“Kara, wait-”

“Please.” I whimpered. “I don’t want him to be the last man who’s touched me.” I kissed him gently, bumping his nose with mine. “Please make me feel safe, Josh.”

He hesitated for a moment but claiming my lips again with his. Slowly, he used one hand to lift the shirt from my body, tossing it into the darkness while moving to lie me on my back and hover above me, one forearm resting next to my head, the other hand cradling my neck. He looked my body up and down and kissed just below my ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Kara.” Josh muttered, continuing my assault on my neck and decolletage before making his way back up to sweep his tongue into my mouth. He was always gentle with me but never as gentle as this. Tonight, he handled me as if I were made of glass. Like if he made one wrong move, I’d shatter. And maybe I would.

He sat up on his knees for a moment to remove his own shirt before settling back down on top of me. His massive body sat on mine as if some kind of weighted blanket, shielding me from the world. As he kissed me, he moved his body along with mine. I could feel his erection growing against my hip and I moaned at the thought of it. My hands made their way down his body and onto his waistband, pushing on his sweats.

One of his hands halted mine. “Kar, are you sure? I just want to be here for you. We don’t have to do this.”

“I want this, Josh. I want you.”

His sweats met the floor and his length stood at full attention. I moved a hand to stroke it but he caught my wrist, guiding it to his mouth and kissing my knuckles, “Baby,” my bicep, “this is about you.” my shoulder, “Let me take care of you.”

We locked eyes as slowly pulled my lacy boyshorts down my legs. He kissed, licked, and sucked his way back up my legs, only letting his tongue dip into my heat twice before continuing to kiss up my body. Once he was back up at eye level, I felt his thick fingers carefully moving about around my entrance.

“Josh, please, just… please make love to me.”

His eyes widened but he said nothing, instead using the same hand to pull one of my legs around his hip. He looked down momentarily, lining himself up before thrusting his shaft into me. We moaned together at the feeling. I’d almost forgotten how good we felt together.

Josh moved slowly, taking his time and being sure to stay close to me. My leg stayed planted atop his hip as he sank to rest his weight on me ever so carefully. When my eyes weren’t shut tight in pleasure, they wandered over him. The furrow of his brow, his button nose that sat above his plump lips. I watched his biceps and abs contract with every movement he made. It didn’t take long for the pressure to build in my center and I began whimpering and moaning his name.

“Mm, I can’t… Josh, I’m-”

“I know, sweetheart, I’m right there with you.” He buried his head in my neck, gently nipping my earlobe. “Let go, baby. Let me feel you.” He moved his hands down again and circled my clit with them, sending me over the edge.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my… Ah!” My hands gripped tightly to his biceps as they flexed next to me. I came breathlessly. I saw stars and all I could hear was Josh panting above me as he continued to thrust into me. I felt him bite my shoulder and finally cum inside me with a strangled, “Fuck, I love you.”

He moved to the side slightly, just enough to grab the blanket and pull it over us. I turned on my side. It was only a moment before I felt Josh’s arm wrap around my waist and hold my body tight to his.

“Josh?” I whispered, afraid to ruin this moment.

“I promise we can talk about this is the morning, sweetheart. Please just let me hold you tonight.” He sounded tired. I complied with his request, wrapping my hand around the forearm resting against my stomach, and it wasn’t long before my eyes grew too heavy to keep open any longer.

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #boone jenner #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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byacatalepsy-archive · 5 years

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( aron piper, 19, he/him ) welcome to san francisco, james “jaime” kaplan. rumor has it they are a witch/reaper, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine smoke on a rainy window, graveyards at night, a cool breeze in summer.

y’all ever seen oliver twist? yeah, this is kinda that. except some supernatural bullshit is thrown into the mix bc why not have everything suck even more ???

tw for child neglect, begging, exploitation, drugs, alcohol, sex, suicide

BACKGROUND

so jaime was born in seattle, as, simply put, an accident. his dad YEETED and he was raised by a mother who didn’t want him and only kept him around for the allowance money and for the various tasks she would send him to do (cleaning, groceries, etc.)

when he was 8 years old, mommy got a boyfriend and said boyfriend was very mad at his existence ( bc what ??? kids require money to raise ??? and he wanted to use that money for drugs and other great stuff ??? ). so, one weekend, mommy sent jaime to his grandpa’s ( the only other relative and also someone who gave a shit abt him ) and when he came back, he found the house...... empty. bitch just took off with her bf and left her son to the void.

he lived with grandpa for a couple of years, not knowing that the dude was poor af and had to stop buying meds in order to give jaime what he needed. unsurprisingly, the illness caught up to him and ol’ grandpa had a heart attack and died. rip.

now 10 years old, jaime decided he didn’t want to go to an orphanage ( he heard stories, he knew what these places were like ) so he decided handle his own, in the big city streets. obviously, he had to resort to some things to survive: begging, stealing, even making use of the empathy of people who were impressed by a sad, little orphan.

one day, he was noticed by a wrong crowd. some folks who rounded up kids and sent them to beg for profit. they thought “aw this kid’s cute let’s snatch him up” and so they did. for the next few years, jaime lived his life being passed around like a hot potato, ending up in the hands of various people finding various ways to benefit off poor, homeless kids ( fortunately for him, he narrowly escaped the...... hardcore ones that sent kids for...... ahem truly fucked up stuff ).

finally, when he was 15, he ended up trying to pick pocket some dude using his magic. he must’ve been 12 when he discovered he can do cool things, deciding to use them to aid him in his life of petty crimes. it just so happened said dude was part of a network bigger than he’d ever known. he scooped jaime up and brought him to the man simply known as spades, the head of something similar to a supernatural mafia. a network of ( mostly ) humans seeking to survive in this world by getting leverage on everyone and knowing everything about everything. spades thought this crafty witch kid fit in just right.

in exchange, jaime was given a roof over his head again. a proper one. he was given his own money and he was allowed to get back to school. all he had to do was carry out the mob’s tasks, which usually involve being the middle man between them and other various people. sometimes he has to steal things or grant magical favors to allies. sometimes he even has to enact revenge on the mob’s behalf.

he ended up in san francisco around a year ago, when he also started attending the salvatore school, after an arrangement made by spades ( he does want his witch lackey to tone his skills ). he was also tasked with finding out what’s going on in he city and with possibly bringing more witches into the fold.

OTHER STUFF

so, needless to say, jaime is very crafty, sneaky, and clever. he might’ve missed some school years, but he managed to catch up pretty quickly ( he’s a very fast learner and adapts to every situation he’s in ). he’s also observant and intuitive and has fantastic gut instinct. that being said, he’s particularly closed off and distrustful. and pessimistic. can you blame him? some might even say he has nihilistic tendencies, being convinced he’s just floating about, trying to survive until death, with no real purpose to his ( or anyone’s ) existence.

because of that, he doesn’t truly have a moral compass. he just goes by what feels right or wrong in that moment.

he has a greatly developed aesthetic eye and tends to have a pretty complex and artsy perspective on everything.

yeah, he struggles with depression. has been for a while now. it’s not diagnosed because no one gave a shit enough to send him to therapy. but it’s pretty bad, while also allowing him to be somewhat functioning.

MEMES !! he loves memes. whatta guy. this one didn’t age well

flaming bi mess

UPDATE

important thing that was not mentioned in the og intro: the gangbangers. the endearing name for the group of morally bankrupt friends he’s basically always with. they go ( or went ) to school together and basically brought out the worst of each other given they engage in just about ...... anything ( yes, drug orgies included ).

his father is death. yes, literal death. he’s not the first one in existence, just the only one still around of this kind. the background is that death sometimes fucked around, quite literally, and stuff happened. it’s not really the death from supernatural bc they have so many shapes, forms, and incarnations, but conceptually, it’s still death.

as a result, jaime is kind of a witch/reaper hybrid. he doesn’t have any reaper abilities. the only ‘bonus’ perk he got was that his dna is kind of wonky when it comes to dying and he kind of can’t die. he’s a loophole of life and death. or, rather, he can’t die yet. nothing is truly immortal. and he can still die of old age.

he’s just recently found out this Fascinating truth, so he’s the ben affleck meme.

he also kind of hit it up with the reaper who’s been always cleaning up the dead around him ( blows kiss to alistair lennox ). he kinda hated the guy at first, but now they’re highkey in love with each other sans the fact that fact has yet to come out :clownemoji: at least they had a nice trip to barcelona ahahaha

he also might have feelings for his best friend ( blows kiss to adan garza too ) which started to bloom when he kinda accidentally took a bullet for adan’s stupid ass, came back from ‘the dead’ to find adan with his humanity shut off, then literally offed himself to bring it back. it worked, they shared a moment, now it’s a gay crisis

#apx:intro #update

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letterstotheone-whomilovemost · 3 years

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8.12.21 (the end of it all)

This is what you said to me today. You told me that I was never anything to you, except a waste of time. Today, I found out that you are still dating the girl that you originally cheated on me with back in 2018/19. You’ve been with her since December of 2019, and never once did you guys break up. You were approaching two years with her. But somehow, you made me believe that you guys weren’t together. You were so secretive online. You did a damn good job of being sneaky. I always had this suspicion, but I never acted on it because i didn’t want to seem “crazy”. You had me drop you off at her house, literally last Tuesday (note: I literally went to the hospital and you ignored me all day after I dropped you off). You were THAT comfortable in your lies. Like, bro. How do you even comprehend that… that would be okay? We’ve been DATING since the fifth of June, and we’ve been talking back and forth since fucking APRIL. How do you even comprehend??? Do you? I’m literally in shock. I’ve been going through a rollercoaster of fucking emotions, because part of me goes “Well you should’ve known better, he did this to you before”. But this time… I’m LITERALLY on the other end of it. I was your SIDE PIECE? How fucking scuffed is that. I’ve always had that mentality, ignorance is bliss. And it got me SO far. haha. Until you ignored me for a week. Until you snapped at me for absolutely no reason. Until I kept asking if you fucked her. Then I realized something was definitely going on. It took me calling you TEN times for you to answer, tell me to fucking stop then hang up on me again. So i called you AGAIN, cause I FOUND OUT that you and her were together. You told me to fuck off. So I did. You proceeded to text me these hateful things, like it would help your case. I refused to say hateful things back to you, it does not good for anyone.

Then you told me this. You told me that the reason you couldn’t love me was because I found out you were cheating. Your manipulation and gaslighting hasn’t gone away, I see. I was just oblivious and gave you no real reason to show your true colours. I’m honestly not surprised. Seeing you act this way takes me back to 2019, and 2018, and 2017, and 2016. I remember why we broke up all of those times. Every time. And what’s funny is we didn’t even officially break up today. You kinda just told me to “be easy” and “u good tho”. Like what the fuck does that even mean? You got caught cheating— and it’s not even just me. But on your baby momma?? Y’all have been together this WHOLE time? And we’ve been steady talking for FOUR months????? Why the fuck did I keep putting up with this bullshit. I’m astounded. I’ve been putting up with this shit for far too long. I thought that because I had healed, and fixed my childhood traumas, and my wounds stitched up, I thought that because I did all of that self healing stuff and that long journey, that maybe you did too. It’s clear that I’m just oblivious, because wow. You really proved me wrong. This entire time of us being together, you’ve been fucking her? You’ve been kissing her? You’ve been sleeping next to her too? Wow. I’m astounded. I’m literally in shock. I mean, hey LOL I was in the hospital and on bed rest for a fucking week and it didn’t even PHASE you. I know why too! You had her right next to you so you felt NOTHING. You’re so lonely and I hate that for you. I tried my fucking hardest for you. I put up with how you treated me, I put up with the good and the bad. I dealt with your shitty attitude towards everything. I constantly brought you up. HOW MANY TIMES did I happy cry sitting next to you saying I wanted to spend the rest of my fucking life with you? You were right there with me! I was laying on your chest and you sat there and smiled at everything I said!!!! I don’t understand. My brain literally can’t understand it. I hate that you can’t see a good thing when it’s right in front of you. I did everything I could for you.

You weren’t all bad. You were a lot of good. The past week has just been… So shitty. I’m almost mad at myself for figuring it out, but it was doomed to happen, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have been nosy. Idk. I’m not going to pity party or anything, but damn dude. I really wish that you loved me like you claimed you did. You always told me you loved me so much, and I FELT that love when you were near me. The way you looked at me. How can you say you never loved me? How can you say that me putting two and two together is the reason you can never love me? Gaslighting doesn’t work on me anymore. I know that you don’t mean those things. You’re just lonely. I’m not going to excuse your behavior. You’re a cheater, you’ve always been a cheater. From your first girlfriend to your last, you’ve never been loyal to anyone. That’s fucked up. Just like I told you in text, if you constantly cheat on women, you’ll never be happy. You have to love yourself first before trying to seek that in other people.

I don’t think you’re a shitty person, like you always say you are. You just do really shitty stuff to people. Cheating is literally like in the top five shitty things you can do to someone, to me at least. I don’t quite understand you sometimes. Maybe that’s another reason I’ve always been entranced by you. You’re a mystery. I always wanted that validation from you, maybe you would choose to be loyal, maybe I could show you enough love that you wouldn’t seek it from others. I shouldn’t try to play bob the builder and try to fix you. Only you can correct your bad mannerisms. You’ll get there one day.

Just like you, I too have my demons. Looks like I’m going to have to work on my co-dependency again. Cheers to having therapy. This is a huge hurdle that I’ll have to get over.

I wonder how long it will take you for you to realize that this message never changed:

How long will it take for you, this time to realize that I’m not coming back? I have to break this vicious cycle. It’s a shame that you could never love me like I loved you. But I’ll heal just fine. I’ll be okay in the end. I’m going to grieve, I’m going to be sad, I’m going to experience pain. But, I’ll get over it all one day. That pain will always be there, just like death— it never truly goes away, it just gets a little less… sharp.

I love you so much and I always will. It’s a shame. I always cared more. One day you’ll realize. Maybe if I get married in 10 years, maybe I’ll be your “girl that got away”. I hope you have the time of your life raising your two babies with two different baby mommas that you cheated on both of them with. I hope you find the happiness you deserve. And I hope you realize one day that not everyone will deal with the shit i dealt with.

Not anymore.

I love you, J. I really do.

The End. [15:24 081221]

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insanityinherited · 4 years

Text

The Line Between The Devil’s Teeth

What’s the clinical definition of feeling “unsafe”? Is there a diagnostic threshold that a person has to meet to be “at risk”? Can I suggest that if you’re not feeling fabulous, you don’t go and look at any of the resources around suicide on the internet? If you’re anything like me, you’ll tick most of the boxes on a day to day basis anyway. I’m also pretty sure that if I presented to an emergency department right now, I would meet their clinical threshold for observation at the very least. It’s not an especially cheerful thought.

As is my habit now, whenever I’m feeling particularly awful, I do my SageBrain five step plan. I breathe. I listen to my Brains. I think about what they tell me. I breathe again. I come up with a plan. Then I carefully wrote it down, in this blog post. And then it got deleted some how because I think I pressed close instead of save. Tumblr, you really need a fucking autosave feature. Because now instead of a carefully worded, calm record of this time, my girlfriend and my psych are going to get a pissed off, garbled mess.

Long story short? I got to step three of my SageBrain thing and realised I needed more information. So I researched and discovered that if I’m critically honest about my Brains right now, I am unsafe, and I meet many of the criteria from around the world and here in Australia for being ‘at risk’ of suicide. In fact, I think I meet the definition of being in ‘immediate danger’. I’m fighting the impulse to write ‘LOL’ after that, because I’m in what clinicians would call ‘immediate danger’ three or four times a month. Anyway, after contemplating the benefits of an adventure into nothingness, and comparing them with other solid plans like going to bed, or seeking professional help (at half ten on a Thursday night? Pass, lifeline pisses me off and I’m not willing to try the Suicide Callback service tonight), I decided I may as well check out my “better options than a cliff #2” list:

Find your SageBrain: been there, done that, still wanna go splat.

Look after your abominable-snow-feelings: not entirely sure what they are, but what they want is secure employment, people to stop talking about the dick that assaulted me and for my brains to stop this rapid cycling bullshit.

Realistic expectations of others: people make bad choices when they’re mad or scared or stressed- but tonight’s all about me.

Grow some pumpkins: hadn’t thought about this one. BRB, grabbing my weighted blanket and throwing on some Stardew Valley music.

Stay hydrated: my meds are up to date, I’ve had dinner, exercise, fluids and I’m clean and comfortable (except for being hotter than Scott Morrison’s armpit under this blanket).

Surround yourself with good people: oddly enough, this is the one I did first. I went and got some cuddles from Nanna and let Boo in on how things were going.

So, having done the list, my SmartBrain is now slightly more in charge and has a hold of the reins again. For lovely little trauma responses like tonight (definitely a trauma response, they feel different from normal mood-disorder disregulation-symptoms), getting my SmartBrain in charge is actually a good thing. My SmartBrain is getting better at supervising my FeelingsBrain without putting it in the chokey, and using my SmartBrain helpfully engages my prefrontal cortex instead of my amygdala having all the control.

This long ramble leads me to my current SmartBrain wondering, and the real purpose of this post: where exactly is the fine line between being okay on your own and needing to access crisis support services? Arguably, and I suspect correctly for about 99% of the population, if you’re wondering whether or not you should call LifeLine, Triple Zero, or go to an urgent care or emergency room, the answer is GO NOW. Do not pass ‘go’, do not collect $200, go directly to the professional crisis service you’re contemplating accessing. However, I fall into the 1% of the population that doesn’t necessarily fit the press-the-panic-button scaffold.

The generally accepted risk factors for suicide include:

Experiencing mental health and/or drug and alcohol problems

A past suicide attempt

Experiencing family difficulties or violence, or family history of suicide

Loss of a friend or family member

Social and geographical isolation

Being male; males have a statistically higher risk than females

I hit five of those buttons every day. Not even kidding: I’m crazy, I’ve tried it before, I have family ‘difficulties’, I’m grieving, and I’m socially isolated. Then, there’s the ‘immediate danger’ checklist:

Threatening to hurt or kill themselves

Planning ways to kill themselves and/ or trying to access the means to kill themselves

Talking or writing about death, dying or suicide

Expressing feelings of hopelessness or worthlessness, that life is not worth living

Engaging in reckless or risky behaviour without concern for their safety

Talking or writing about being a burdento others

Increasing their use of drugs or alcohol

Withdrawing from friends, teachers and family

Noticeable changes in mood including increased levels of anger or agitation

Taking less care in their appearance (not washing, appearing dishevelled, etc.)

Giving away possessions

Saying goodbye to loved ones.

Ten out of twelve for that list too. Awesome. That’s 83%, for those of you who don’t love fractions. But this is where I start thinking about what ‘imminent danger’ really means, and where the very thin line lies between “I’m okay” and “I’m not okay”. I understand that lists like these written in fact sheets for people who aren’t sure what to do will always err on the side of caution. If someone is about to top themselves, caution is a very good thing. But let’s come back to the 1% of people. We are the nerds of the mental health world. We are the people whose SmartBrains are so over prepared to handle anything. We are the people whose amygdalas (amygdalae?) are overworked from so many trauma responses. We are the people who can be completely functional and lucid while also being in the absolute shadows of the Grimm.

Right now, I have a plan to kill myself. Actually, I have two. Over the past two years they’ve steadily developed and I know exactly what I’d do and how I’d do it. I tick 83% of the boxes on the chart. And yet, I’m lying in bed under a weighted blanket, blogging, because my Brains are weird. I don’t need to be in a hospital right now. I don’t even need to be supervised right now. I have a stack of therapy tools I’m putting in place. But the problem I’ve found is that I actually have no idea when to access crisis services. What’s the rule for *me*? It’s going to be different for everyone.

I’m a trifle annoyed that I don’t have a solid answer. I’m sticking this one in the “ask my psych” pile and moving on. It’s now half eleven and I need to sleep. For the record though, the most helpful things for my PTSD/trauma responses are the passive things: the music in a suitable range of BPM and the weighted blanket. All this waffle just gives my SmartBrain something to do while I wait for the subconscious response to stimuli from my FeelingsBrain.

Good night y’all.

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justashnichole · 5 years

Link

Anger is that thief in the night, seeking to steal, kill and destroy. But NOT TODAY! Here are a few tips to effectively managing anger and prevent its nasty effects.

Take a deep breath. Actually, a series of slow deep breaths, focus on deep inhales and deep exhales. The goal here is to calm down.

Paint a mental picture. Think of something or someplace that makes you happy. Focus on that instead of whatever is happening that is causing anger.

Think about what is making you mad. Why is this thing worth your energy and health? Are you reacting to what’s making you angry or as a result of it?

Own it. Take responsibility for how you’re feeling. Taking accountability allows you to begin to resolve the root of the anger if it’s something that can’t be relieved by thinking through it.

How can this be fixed? If it is a person - do THEY know that they’ve done something that angered you? Addressing the issue can clarify the possible miscommunication and possibly relief

Of course, seek help. If you need assistance thinking through the situation, a therapist visit or a chat on any of the mobile therapy apps should provide some clarity.

At the end of the day, we have all got 24 hours. For me, being angry takes control of those hours away from me. Whether it slows down or speeds up, I’m 100% ineffective if my energy is invested in being angry/mad.

So here’s your chance! Join us over on Facebook or Twitter and share some of your anger management methods, or tell us about how you came to find out you were “big mad” and needed to change it.

As always, thanks for stopping by. The articles I used for the information provided are all linked below. Y’all come back now, ya hear.

Post Links Recognizing Anger Signs - https://www.mentalhelp.net/anger/recognizing-signs/ The Physical and Mental Toll of Being Angry All the Time - https://health.usnews.com/wellness/mind/articles/2017-10-26/the-physical-and-mental-toll-of-being-angry-all-the-time How Anger Can Hurt Your Heart - https://www.webmd.com/balance/stress-management/features/how-anger-hurts-your-heart Anger - how it affects people - https://www.betterhealth.vic.gov.au/health/healthyliving/anger-how-it-affects-people Controlling anger before it controls you - https://www.apa.org/topics/anger/control

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sarahtrainsbrains · 5 years

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A Pragmatic Look at Poetry

Writing these poems (ones yet to be posted) allowed me to halt plenty of unhealthy habits and confront habitual fears. Those habits have been both mental and physical, thus the act of writing these little poems brewed up surprising little mental solutions to all kinds of moods too wide-ranging for me to understand, much less explain to others. Our labyrinths of thoughts and feelings.

My mind summons up impressively imagined fears in the face of the black hole seizures (et al. & etc., etc.). Then in the course of reaching out for defense against such useless fears, my mind summoned up poetry, the thing I never quite decided on doing. Previously, I was convinced it was an impractical pursuit.

And too hifalutin! Yet there the creation of poems and songs became my most practical toolbox for those little transformations. While the human mind tries to fathom fears into realistic reasoning, my mind has finally come to understand through such desperate experiences the Practicality of the Creation of Arts—

Even with no audience viewer in mind (especially with none of those judgements of audience acknowledged in the neediest moments), it’s a display of strength in the midst of the chaos. It’s laying claim to your own mind. Only after these banters and battles have been fought within will I read it to listeners. It becomes evidence for my life scenes of every genre that I otherwise forget.

While I was a short-term AmeriCorps VISTA in Hazard, Kentucky, I didn’t have the energy for the job working to organize the Appalachian Arts Alliance. So I left early, yet the place itself still gives me ideas (I miss y’all, of course). Walking around that town without the ability to drive, I was given little oral histories and folksy inspirations by other walkers when I was in the mood to ask questions and tell some of my own medical tales. Though full of these distracted ideas, I first had to dwell on my inner troubles and clean them out (and get that surgery and radiation treatment) before I tried helping too many others to do the same.

There’s much talk of the “voiceless” people, but the development of your voice alone (before any need to share) is always a step to self-knowledge. I believe it is a worthwhile challenge, perhaps felt keener in such a self-aware age of the world wide web.

If I ever became more practically active, I would promote more of the kind of art therapy they occasionally sent out in my teenage hospital days getting my chemo. One therapist back at UVA hospital in Charlottesville just brought a guitar and printed out tabs for me to sing or play when I felt like it. At that time my arm was still healing from surgery, and over the years guitar was an important motivation to attempt the physical therapy I otherwise hated too much to get through. For years, I slowly worked on only one single earnest love song. It put me in a soothing place of simple rhythm-making.

To get myself past the intimidation of the arts and the high ceiling of poetry, the same poets I read in middle school English classes helped me out. I keep them in my back pocket of encouragement—Emily Dickinson helped give me poetic access to Death and the Infinite along with dashes and funny exclamation points, then Walt Whitman doodled inspiration for everything wild and green in between, letting it all hang loose and lyrical. I always need such opposites to balance my inner messes without much study on Structure.

Here are a few recent poems of mine. The first I wrote the morning before my big family Georgia mountains Thanksgiving, the next two a few days after. Food-themed metaphors will always happen with me. The literal version will be some other post. Or book! Indecisive and wildly imagined, I know by now that the daily fresh effort to live alive creates… a whole platter of delicious possibilities.

I feel the grand love

I’ve beckoned all this time

By name alone I’ve kept the call

To the thing too old to remember

Its own human-laden name.

The word itself still states a fact

For me who needs the promise known

Deeper in than the current cold

Past the shallows frozen.

Yet now such display!

A little giddy baby babe!

Such speedy motherly reflection—

Makes a babe of me! Right back!

The obvious envelops!

The so-called simple

Becomes itself true

If the word itself ever flops.

It’s difficult—

We make the Milky Way

Edible and sweet in chocolate in hand

And the starry thing itself

Wiles away Up Thar.

Too grand to understand

As our very, very own.

But the Big Dipper ladles itself

Our love above our sumptuous feast

Endless, endless

Without a doubt!

The fields lush

of music and all my metaphors

Pretending madness

for the sake of itself

For the sweet open crowds of Myself.

Seeking far more intrigue

than self-advice

Or God’s divine sass

in cahoots with devilish puns

Snickering

from another

Chocolate Bar Temptation.

Here’s to my green fields of

Liberty!

Without need for The Understood

Withstanding the wilds within

of ever-growing little baby billboards

Each toting a Solution

Togethering in mass disagreement.

Thus, mere titillating wildflowers.

A cute chaos complementing,

Attempting to overthrow—

Your darkest shades

Your sweetest unknown.

My childish soul exhausts

Easy, when the intellect taps too far

My mini melting pot breaks down

Easy, for such a finicky spar

When my ancient soul forgives fully

And grumpy details she even further forgets.

I release an elementary yawn—

I go back to eating Pop Rocks—

Assuming my intuition

Must have packed ammunition

For the demands of my cajoling

Damsel in modern distress.

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