#I wish my friends didn't like the city so much :/ it really is depressing here

[thornsent]

feel so spiral-y tonight :/ n like I should go to bed but I know I won't be able to sleep right away. I think part of it is that, bc my building's buzzer is useless and doesn't work, I missed yet another piece of mail and did not realize that the post office closes at 1 on saturdays so despite me running (literally, it hurt and I know I'll regret it tomorrow) there 20 minutes before 5, they were closed

the mail is from the housing authority that issued my voucher and I have a feeling they're going to tell me they aren't renewing it, because no matter how I've tried to submit my renewal paperwork they pretend not to see it. just like every other fucking government program. and I have half a mind to just stop caring because it's not like it did me much good anyway if all I could afford to rent with it is slum after slum after slum

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 14 - Anachronism

Anachronism (noun) 1. a person, thing, or idea that exists out of its time in history, especially one that happened or existed later than the period being shown

Tags & Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Violence, Murder

Day 1

“I see, okay, cool cool cool... But - when will you be back?” The princess asked, her hair still frazzled from the night. Granted, he had woken her up, but really, as the founder and owner of the Hazbin Hotel, she shouldn't sleep in like that – 6 a.m. wasn't that early when you had business to attend.

“Ah, well, my dear, that's the tricky part – I can't say for sure. Could be a day, could be a week – but there's something urgent that needs to be dealt with. So I regrettably cannot postpone this leave of absence.”

“Hold on, shithead.”, Vaggies voice penetrated his ears, rough and deeper than usual. She joined Charlie at the door, and Alastor smirked at the chagrin in her face. “You're supposed to help the hotel. You have obligations here, as much as I hate it, but we don't run on well wishes.”

Alastor tutted at her, his smile never fading. “Well, what better time to make use of our darling (Y/n)? That's what assistants are for, won't you agree? She is more than capable of taking over my workload until I return.”

Vaggie snarled at him, but Charlie put her hand on her shoulder, watching Alastor with a worrisome expression. “Well, I suppose she could, but even so, what about safety? Alastor, if the hotel is in trouble we are...”

“...not without protection. I'll know when things get out of control here, and shall return if my assistance is needed. Does that sound fair?”

The princess and her pet exchanged looks, he could practically hear their wheels turning. Aggravating, those two. He tapped his foot, impatiently.

“Okay then... well, yeah. I guess that works for...”, the blonde girl said at last, slowly and with a lingering hesitancy, but it was enough for him.

“Wonderful, now, I'll take my leave, let you ladies freshen up in peace. Ta-ta!”

He didn't give them time for a retort, his urgency driving him to travel with his shadows rather than by foot. He needed to get away, the sooner the better.

He needed to get a grip.

And that wasn't going to happen around her.

He only stopped when he felt the freezing air of the outskirts of the pride ring. Shadow travel was fast, insanely fast, but traveling this far exhausted even him. When he finally materialized, he was greeted by the peaceful darkness of the void.

The void.

The great nothingness.

Alastor's first memories of hell started with the void, the constant, roaring humm that filled the air after he fell. He didn't know why he returned to the very place he'd begun his afterlife, but he had learned to not question his instincts. At least until some time ago. He stared at the ever growing darkness and felt the pull. No sinner or hellborn had managed to venture into the void, the barrier around the seven rings of hell. Alastor was sure it wasn't possible either way, but his first day in hell were spent listening to it's call while he reformed his body and explored the new, wide set limits of his power. This place felt like an old friend, a retreat where he could clear his mind and level himself, just like the day he died and woke up here.

Alastor had always prided himself to be one of the rare few sinners who landed at the void. Normally, as he learned through his decades in hell, sinners would fall close to bigger cities, near civilization, closer to their peers. He knew that Zestial, one of the more ancient overlords and acquaintance of his also fell at the outskirts of the ring. He normally hated sharing a trait he deemed special, but he respected Zestial too much to be offended.

Now he had time and space to really think. The hotel was too full, full of noisy occupants, full of pestering ears, full of her scent and her confusing energy. He had stayed all through the night, hypnotized by the radiation of her energy she still emitted, even in slumber. And he had struggled, more than he had anticipated, to peel himself from her room came morning, to detach his gaze from her sleeping face, with that unholy smile that he was sole owner of still on slightly parted lips.

The void called him, and he greedily listened to it, using the sounds of the emptiness to calm his accelerating beating heart.

Day 2

He hated that he felt. He hated the fragility of them, their infuriatingly weakening effects they had on the mind. His back started to hurt, so he conjured himself a seat, a round and soft one.

There were feelings he accepted, even welcomed. Joy, for example, in the right context and circumstances, was a rather gratifying feeling he often embraced when he slaughtered his victims. Or danced to a good tune, which happened less than the other. Anger, controlled and in moderation was also useful.

But then there were the crippling ones he detested. Sadness was one of them. He despised the way it made the chest hurt and the mood sink, how it made him long for past days, the days where his mother was alive. But that was something he had always been able to control, trained himself to masterfully surpress to the point where he didn't even have to try.

And the new one he couldn't get a hold on. That strange, new feeling that left him weak, confused and vulnerable, started by a mere touch of gray skin.

Desire. For the first time in his life he felt the need to want somebody . He wanted , and that want drove him to actions he wasn't used to, and the more he got, the more he desired, an endless circle, a cycle he was trapped in. Desire was an abhorrent child of love. Ha. Love. The only love he had ever needed died just months before he became of age. Never again did he feel something like it, nor did he want to. Love was a liability. It easily, naively opened doors that should better remain locked for not to fall prey to predators. And Alastor surely wasn't prey .

But now, there it was. Desire. Infecting him like a common, disgusting virus with no antidote. He desired her. He had to make this conclusion, as much as he wanted to deny it. He just didn't know if he desired her power, or something more.

Day 3

Alastor was hungry. But no food would satiate this feeling of craving. He craved her. No. No, he reminded himself. That was preposterous. He didn't crave her, he hungered for her energy. That one, tiny taste of her power had left him wanting more, had him addicted like the most potent drug. His shadows felt the yearning too, they were restless and swirled agitated around him. Especially one. He had Ozul bound, and his shade let him know how much he hated it. Relentlessly he tugged and pulled and twisted himself, but he knew without Alastor's permission, he wasn't going anywhere. He had become bold, that one. Which was truly unfortunate, since he was the oldest of his shadow companions. The original specter.

He hasn't slept at all. The coolness a refreshing chance from the heat of the city and settling down in his bones. Still, he had yet to have a revelation – his mind fought with him. Hunger fought with him. A longing he needed to be for power, and not... trivialities. Another strong tug made him growl.

“Stop it this instant, you fool.”

Ozul hissed at him. He hissed. Alastor's fury was instant and intense as he forced him back with a yank. It whined and struggled against his grasp.

“m̵̳͋̀ĩ̷̻s̸̡̻͊͘s̵̝̏ ̵̤̻͋̌g̴̢͍͐e̸͎̿̎m̴̖̆.̶̨̅̿ ̸̟̩́̉w̸̬̏à̷̼̎n̸̡͉̈́͝t̷̫̟̂͝ ̷͔͎̄̿t̷̥͑ơ̸̡ ̸̺̤́s̸̛͚͖è̷̳̯͑è̶͖͎ ̸͙̭̀g̴̠͖͌ė̷͈̯m̶̭̭͑.̷̦̐” (miss gem. want to see gem)

“You are acting like an insolent child.”

“y̷̼̓o̸̮̎u̸̯̺͂͂ ̴̘̠̃̎m̸̘͕̅ḭ̴̺̎s̸͚̙̐s̷̬͊ ̷͍͕̈g̴̦̑̊e̴̼̣̽m̶̙̺͑̽.̵̳̿ ̴͙͐̓y̷̢͕̏o̶̲̮͝ủ̴̝ ̵͛̀͜m̴̮̖̐e̴͉̋ ̸̝͇̉̂s̵̠̄ǎ̸̞͕̏m̴̲̪̍̽ȇ̷̛ͅ” (you miss gem. you me same.)

His antlers sprouted like weed as his body exploded with crushing cracks and hurtful rips. The other shadows roared in pain and anxiety, swirling around the feet of their master.

“ɨ ɖօռ'ȶ ʍɨֆֆ ǟռʏȶɦɨռɢ, ɨ ǟʍ ʏօʊʀ ʍǟֆȶɛʀ ʏօʊ աօʀȶɦʟɛֆֆ, աɛǟӄ, ɖɨֆօɮɛɖɨɛռȶ...”(I DON'T MISS ANYTHING; I AM YOUR MASTER YOU WORTHLESS; WEAK; DISOBEDIENT...)

In his rage, he slashed at his own shadow, tearing the ground with every word he spat. Ozul dodged his claws, his teal maw and eyes glowing brightly at him in a grimace of pity. He didn't miss that woman. She was nothing more than a servant. Just another soul he owned. A chip in the long game. A tool to be used. To be exploited. Disposable.

His clawing stopped, his arms heavy and aching. Ozul stared at him, and he stared back.

Disposable.

That word tasted sour and rancid on his tongue. He took heavy breaths, taking in the stinging pain of his elongated limbs that he grew far too quickly.

Disposable.

What would he do if he harnessed her power and she would vanish? Her spirit broken? Her will cease to exist? Why does it even matter? Why does he care? Does he care? Ozul slithered to him, slowly, carefully. Alastor let him creep up his arm and onto his shoulders. He closed his eyes and let visions of Ozul play on his mind. He saw her, dutifully reading what he provided her, sighing now and again. He saw her watching out the window, waving him goodbye as he left his mansion for some errand. He saw her at his doorstep in the middle of the night, a cup of warm milk in hand meant for him. He saw her cold, disgusted glare at Vox's incredulous remarks about him. He saw her hand on his cheek, golden eyes fixed on his as she managed to snap him out of his transformation.

Disposable.

What a wretched word.

Day 4

For the first time since being the radio demon, Alastor truly felt cold. The edges of hell lacked the heat humans so foolishly attributed to the place of eternal damnation. Not that hell wasn't warm. It had it's seasons, and temperatures rarely fell so much as to truly give it's inhabitants a chill.

But he felt freezing. He had thought it would be comforting. Alastor was always warm, like an old cathedral radio that ran for too long, emitting a steady heat, whether he was wearing a coat, a shirt, or nothing at all. But the cold had crept into his innermost being, numbing his body to the point where it hurt to move. But it did not numb his mind. The hum of the void felt no longer serene, but noisy and disturbing. He stared into the void for hours without finishing a thought before the next one began. He felt trapped in his own train of thoughts. A prisoner of his feelings he didn't want. He felt he was failing to manage himself like he used to. And most of all, Alastor felt lonely.

His legs cracked from lack of usage as he stood up. Rosie. He needed to see Rosie. He couldn't be seen like this, by anyone, so he shadowtraveled again, his unstable state making him stumble into a shelf in Rosie's backrooms. He pulled himself upright and sent a shade to get her. Mere seconds later, she was storming through the door.

“What in the world?! Alastor, what happened? You are cold as ice!”

The demoness caught him by his arms, holding his deteriorated form upright.

“I need your help, my friend.”

Rosie only nodded, guiding him to the nearest chair.

“Of course, my dear.”

Day 5

Alastor slept for more than 16 hours. A testament of his friendship with Rosie, that he was able to leave himself this vilnerable in her care. His sleep, however, had been haunted, blurring the lines between reality and fiction, depicting scenes of his life and intertwining them with mementos of her, phasing fast in between horrific, enigmatic and blissfull.

He awoke with a raging headache, the morning sun already turning into full bloom of a mid-day heat. Apparently Rosie had managed to drag him into her personal suite above her emporium, resting him on her biggest chippendale settee. The blanket he was draped in was made out of finest cream cashmere and smelled new and unused. His darling friend really knew him well.

“Oh my stars, you're awake! I almost thought you'd gone into hibernation.”

Rosie entered the room, a tray with a teapot and two cups in her hands. Alastor recognized the green and gold pattern – it was the china he had bought her after his last visit. He quickly sat up, straightening his jacket (which Rosie hadn't removed and he was grateful for).

"I apologize for my unseemly display yesterday, my dearest Rosie.” He waved away the blanket, bringing it up just enough to return his coat to it's intended fold. She took place in a matching seat across from him, her flowing dress and skirts billowing with every movement, and offered him a cup, filling it with deep brown liquid.

He was too exhausted to even ask for a cup of coffee - he somehow had a feeling it wouldn't taste right anyway. But the tea smelled spiced and earthy, which was unusual for his companion, so he decided to trust her judgment and drink it.

They sipped their tea in quietude, but he knew that, just like himself, she had the need to break the silence. He also knew she was carefully, consideringly waiting for him to speak. A feat only she possessed to get out of him things he would otherwise choose to remain untold.

Rosie was another exception, very similar to her . Rosie was his oldest friend, a confidant he didn't expect to have when he became an overlord. Rosie had gained his trust, not by the usual tit-for-tat hellish society loved to practice, but by proving him time and time again, from te very beginning, that she didn't feel the need to use him for anything, instead just enjoying his presence, no strings attached, so to say.

So Alastor spoke, and started to tell his story.

He told her about the night in the Lava lounge, sparing no detail, describing the way she dealt with Vox, the satisfaction he felt watching her on stage. He told her about his percieved solution of her puzzle, what he deducted to be the answer – that she had fallen for him, and his intent to use it to his advantage. He knew she would disapprove of the predicament of invading (Y/n)'s privacy, more so catching her in one of most private moments, but he needed to paint the full picture. He told her about the jeweled copy, how he thought that it would act like a container of her energy just to be proven wrong. That instead, it had guided him to her, and at his touch she had spilled with flowing power like a freshly broken spring, flooding him with it to the point of loosing control over his thoughts and body. How she, miraculously, brought him back through carefully chosen words. That he fled to relieve himself of the overpowering force he was still filled with. How he found himself regretful of the way he harmed her and returned to apologize. About how she instead tried to take the blame, to monopolize the guilt and how he refused her. He told Rosie about her wish for him to keep her company, and that he took her plea to stay the whole night, only to leave before she awoke to get space to sort this whole mess out. When he finally recounted the past four days at the void, the tea in his cup was cold and stale.

Rosie had listened quietly, not once attempting to interject. The tick-tock of the mounted wall clock in the corner of the room marked the ending of an age until she set her teacup down. Alastor swallowed dry, waiting for her assessment. A deep, measured breath left her nose and she leaned back in her seat, her expression seemingly in deep contemplation.

Something else played in those coal dark eyes, and Alastor didn't like it one bit. Was that pity? Was it condescention? Rosie wasn't prone to neither.

“Oh, Alastor...”, she started, shaking her head. “For all the astuteness, intelligence and eloquence you possess, you truly can be a righteous blockhead.”

Alastor's eye twitched.

“While I cannot deny that it seems the little dove has indeed feelings for you – you gravely misinterpreted my little puzzle. I must say, I now come to regret not being any clearer, I feel I took part in the way things escalated to this. “, she sighed with a frown. Then, she looked directly at him, a small, crooked smile on her lips. “But what's done is done. Let's try it again, my dear, and this time, stop denying yourself the path to the true answer – you are better than that. Think, Alastor. Think about what you've told me before answering: What is the protective lie, and what the obvious truth?”

Alastor stared at her.

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to think it. He didn't want to accept it.

Rosie's smile widened, reading him like a well-known book. The protective lie: That she was just like any other soul he owned. The obvious truth: That she wasn't the only one who fell victim to forbidden feelings.

Day 6

He knew he had to return. The last day was spent in Rosie's company. He knew she had been holding back a lot of things she wanted to say, for the sake of him coming to terms with his uncomfortable new insights. Instead, she gave him space to initiate conversation when he decided to, making herself busy in her apartment. She only told him she closed the shop for the day, and to not worry about missing business, since she could do what the hell she wanted.

In the evening, after a fabulous meal Rosie cooked (serving finest intestines in a hearty stew), she broke her self-imposed silence to ask him

“I don't want to pry, sweetheart, but what do you plan to do?”

Alastor dabbed his mouth with a napkin, removing the last remnants of the tasty demon flesh.

“In all honesty, Rosie, I am at odds.”

Rosie tilted her head at him, her face that of incredulity. “Really, what would be the harm in entertaining the idea that you are fond of a beautiful, talented, devoted girl?”

He remained silent, his wide smile fading into a barely curved line.

“You know as well as I do I am these things are foreign to me, impossible even.”

“And yet you feel something for this girl. You may have never for another, but now, for her, you do, Alastor. Would a parched man in a desert deny himself of drinking when he finds an Oasis?”

Alastor sighed. Rosie was nothing but a true romantic at heart, but he? The concept of fondness, of courting and romance had always abstract and revolting to him. Yes, he felt things for her, but they could be fleeting, a lapse in judgment, a loss of control he was deeply uneasy to sacrifice.

She had dropped the issue, but the question still hung between them as she went to bed.

Now it was morning, and he prepared himself to face her again. That night he decided to keep his distance, to slowly detach himself from the need he felt when it came to her. Knowing her compliance and steadfast determination to please him, she wouldn't question or fight him if he'd dismiss what happened without much explanation.

When he told Rosie, she gave him a disapproving look, sadness in her voice as she told him that he was  a fool and on his best way to hurt her favorite dove deeply. He knew she was right, of course, but he needed to do what he deemed best. It was better this way.

So, he bid her farewell, this time walking the distance from Cannibal Town back to the hotel. He heard Ozul whine and fizz in apparent discontent, but he too, had to accept his masters decision.

He entered the hotel quietly, his cat companion dozing at the bar. What luck, he thought, glad to not be stopped by rude comments or displeasured banter. He made long strides, taking the stairs up to his radio tower. He felt the need for soothing blues. On the third flight of stairs, he almost crashed into Angel Dust who rounded the corner from the other side. The spider jumped at the sight of him, clutching his over-exaggerated breast in overly dramatic shock.

“Jesus Christ on a stick, Al!” Alastor sneered at the cursing demon. “Fuck, popping up like the worlds most haunted jack-in-the-box. 'Ya almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Why, my effeminate fellow, that would only mean you'd have a heart in the first place, how joyous that would be?” He grinned widely at the scowling expression his little remark resulted in. “I'd love to stay and chit-chat, but I have a lot to catch up with.”

He started walking past him, when he heard Angel's muttered response.

“Not much to catch up with, buckboy, since Rocky had to shoulder all your fucking work like the boss-bitch she is. You betta make sure 'ya thank her on 'ya knees.”

He didn't reply, keeping his pace. Yet, he couldn't help but notice how quickly his smile threatened to slip with the reminder of his gem's adversities.

... He had made himself comfortable on the extravagant sofa, pouring himself another glass of whiskey and downing it without the usual enjoyment and moderation. He still felt tense, and the alcohol wasn't working in taking the edge off. A few hours back and he still was cooped up in his broadcasting room, unsure on how to proceed. He was about to pour his third glass when he heard three knocks on the hatch.

Three slightly angry knocks.

He moved to open the door to maybe Vaggie, who always had an excuse to be agitated with him, readying to tell her off, when the faint smell hit him.

Not Vaggie. It was her.

He took a deep breath. Showtime.

With nimble fingers he pulled the hatch open, revealing his beautiful assistant looking up to him with burning eyes like two golden suns. His darling girl. His precious gem.

"Ah, hello, kitten! You look absolutely dashing this morning."

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[shadowsandsunset]

I wish nothing but good things for Oliver Stark and Lou Ferrigno Jr.

They gave us such an authentic, gentle, tender experience. I've watched the clip of that kiss several dozen times now.

Oliver, especially, has been amazing in his interviews and social media posts, empathetic and honest and sweet. I don't know his sexuality and I don't speculate in real people's sexualities, but regardless he seems like a true ally. He seems to Get It.

As someone who came out later in life** it really touches my heart what they're doing.

9-1-1 has always seemed to try to do good by their queer characters and I really appreciate that.

Hen and Karen have always been a fantastic and very real feeling example of a wlw relationship.

This show is doing amazing. I wish nothing but good and happy things for the cast and crew who make this happen.

**Under the cut is my coming out/self acceptance story if you're interested.

Tw: repression, self harm, drug use, shitty relationships both familial and romantic.

I tried to come out as a teenager in the early 2000s after I kissed a girl for the first time. It did not go well.

My mother was a complicated woman and she loved me very much, but when I told her I was bi (I prefer pan now but at the time I didn't have that word) she told me it was a phase and that she was disappointed, that she would always love me but that it was wrong in the eyes of God and she couldn't accept it.

Disappointing my mother was worse than her being angry. It felt like my heart was carved out of my chest. I feel like if she had been angry or openly cruel I could have fought back, but her sadness destroyed me. I was 16 then and I continued to live at home until I was 24. I'm in my mid/late 30s now.

So I repressed that part of myself for well over a decade and spent a lot of time depressed and miserable. I self harmed and did A LOT of drugs. I'm clean now except for super occasional weed use. I have a lot of scars from self harm.

My mom died several years ago and it wasn't until after her death that I allowed myself to even think about it, any of it. I was in a relationship with a man for eight years that was loving but he was an alcoholic and I had to walk on eggshells around him because of his mental health struggles; he was emotionally abusive but in a way that was only apparent in hindsight. I thought that my relationship with him was as good as I was going to get. We broke up not long after my mom died.

The only family member I am out to is my older sister, who has been amazing and accepting and loves me completely. Without her support I would be lost.

I have now dated/hooked up with women, men, nb and trans people. I have explored my own gender identity (it's whatever, I don't feel like a woman despite having the female equipment and appearing female in body, I feel pretty masculine but not like a man either, and I don't have strong opinions on pronouns, but I feel like I fail at femininity and masculinity in equal measure so I call myself genderqueer. I don't have any desire to take hormones or have any surgeries, I just want to be a person without having to perform gender).

I live in a conservative small city in the US south and I feel disconnected from the wider queer community. I don't know how to bridge that gap. There is a small queer community here but you can't really be openly out and be safe.

I'll be going to my first pride event this June. I'm excited and terrified because I don't feel like I'm queer enough or The Right Kind of queer, which is such a stupid stress to have, but I don't have many friends to talk about this with and I am hoping to get out there and make some but I'm nervous. I'm socially awkward and kinda weird. I'm also single and trying to mingle, lol.

I like who I am now but it was an incredibly difficult road to get to this place. I'm still on that journey, and maybe I always will be but that's ok. I'm finally myself.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

ACTUALLY WE NEED MORE ANGST. MOOOORE /j

I do like the fluff, but I do like the angst, so let’s do a little bit of both. For some of the SV and SVE bachelors and bachelorettes (you can pick who because that’s alotta people, but my main requests are Emily, Victor and Sam) they all had a pretty bad day, and here comes the farmer to cheer them up. What made them upset, and what does the farmer do?

My favorite tipes of headcanons - hurt/comfort! Sorry for not answering for so long...

Thanks for your ask, dear anon 😊 Enjoy!

Sam:

Sam left JojaMart in a pretty bad mood. And who wouldn't - Morris took away his salary because Sam allegedly smashed a whole stand with expensive drinks, and now his salary will go as compensation for the loss. Sam didn't touch this stand at all, but he was not lucky enough to be nearby, there were no other employees at this moment, and there are no security cameras. Morris didn't believe his story, and as a result, Sam now has to work for a whole month for free! This is so unfair!

Sam met Farmer near Clint's forge. Seeing his friend's sullen face, the Farmer worriedly asked what had happened. Sam didn't want to lash out at others, but he also really wanted to vent to someone. After telling the whole story, the Farmer asked Sam to wait here and, turning around, went towards JojaMart. Less than ten minutes had passed when the Farmer left the building and told Sam that the problem had been solved, and that another employee's hastily set up booth was the culprit. Sam's eyes widened in surprise. Does that mean he gets his well-deserved salary? Awesome! Afterwards, the Farmer invited Sam to the Saloon to buy pizza and play arcade games. Bad mood? Forget about it, when Sam has such a wonderful friend!

Victor:

The constant pressure to find a job always upset Victor so much. He sincerely understands that his dearest mother wishes him the best, but her constant reminders that Victor has not yet found a job bring the poor boy to a depressive state. For both of them, it has become almost a tradition: a couple of phrases turn into an unpleasant conversation, and then Victor goes outside to cool off.

So, on another walk, away from bad thoughts, on the bridge he met a Farmer who was fishing. Victor was about to leave, afraid to interfere their fishing, but the Farmer quickly stops him and asks why he is in such a depressed mood. The story was long, but the Farmer listened attentively to Victor, comforted him, helping with advice and kind words. It was much easier for Victor knowing that the Farmer supported him and did not consider him a crybaby, a bore and a weakling. This support means a lot to him.

Emily:

The autumn festivals in Stardew Valley always mean a huge rush of tourists to the Saloon, and not a moment's rest for Emily. And everything would be fine, but not all guests from the big cities know at least the minimum rules of good manners. Overworked, Emily accidentally knocks over a mug of ale on the man who ordered it. Having already poured into himself not the first mug of strong drinks, he immediately began to resent, pouring name-calling and curses on Emily. And the poor waitress, out of guilt for her clumsiness, this time absorbed all the negativity into herself.

Who known how long this would have continued until the Farmer came to the table. They grabbed the shirt collar of that boor, and with one movement they kicked him out of the Saloon. Farmer also gave that asshole an icy look and the phrase "get lost", thwarting any attempt by the man to continue the scandal. Emily felt guilty, because she believed that it all started because of her, but the Farmer reassured her and explained that this was not a reason to be so rude to the workers. Gus, who later found out what happened, was of the same opinion as the Farmer, and promised that this this man would not be in the Saloon again. Emily shone brighter than the sun, realizing that Gus and her friend would not let her drown in negative energy.

[marco--the--phoenix]

I deleted my old vent blog. But I gotta gwt this out.

Tw: depression - eating disorder- personal - mental health - suicide - financial issues - chronic illness

For 5 years we have lived on bare minimum. Sometimes we can do the odd nice thing here or there but it'll drain us.

Every month is a making ends meet kinda month and sometimes we go without very often.

One meal a day, I go without phone service or unable to leave the house.

It's not even our fault. Wife works full time, I can't work due to both mental and physical health.

I am so unbelievablely grateful to friends who help us out when there's a struggle but I feel so bad every time.

I'm almost 40 and I don't have the means to look after myself. I'm not the worst off person in the world but I'm fucming struggling.

I had an ED that almost killed me many years ago and it permanently crashed my body. I have a dangerous autoimmune disease that's almost killed me once already.

It's agony, my joints lock up, I've been paralysed in pain by arthritis brought on by it. My skin hurts and aches and burns all the time.

I can barely move. I ooze and feel gross and stick to things and feel ugly and gross and vile

My mental health is bad despite being medicated. My adhd is wild and the two have caused me to loose all momentum in myife. I was once in control and on top of everything and now I'm drowning.

I try not to vent to people. So used to being punished for venting rhat I'm terrified if people saw the real deph of what I'm feeling I'd loose them.

I'm sick of money lasting a second. We do like ONE nice thing a month together and even then it's far from wild or much money. We treat ourselves to a little something but like.. a £5 sketch from a friend or a third store shirt for £7 but cus we are so broke all the time and need help it feels shitty to do.

It's bad, all the time.

This month I already have £70 left to live and I've not paid for my phone yet. That 70 I'd for food, travel, anything.

We had to use money we saved for my birthday in March and their upcoming birthday just to make it to the end of every month.

We don't have family or a support network where we live.

I know staying at home doesn't seem like a big deal but reason I made a habit of going with wife to their place of work was because of me not being safe.

We've both worked hard, really hard to start out stores and try sell but it's very disheartening that despite all the effort and hard work no ones biting.

I'm so scared of being a burden to people that I clam up. I've pulled away so much from people already that I'm worried I'm not good enough any more for them.

It's all jealous icky arlf doubting feelings drowning me but I'm tired.

I started chemotherapy again for my illness but had to come off for antibiotics for an ear infection.

Chemotherapy makes me feel sick, tired, awful and without it my body attacks itself.

We are trying to go on a trip this June. Just to another city and we put money we couldn't afford towards it but I for one need a break, need something nice to look forward to, something to keep me fucking going.

I don't want to die, I just want life to be better but I've been strong all my life and I'm so weak these days cus I can't find mental or psychical strength.

I try hard to be there for others, be a good person, look on the bright side but I'm so so fucking exhausted.

I've waited years after year for things to get better. I'm not a negative person I've just been beat over the head so many times.

I'm finally letting myself cry and crumble but I'm close to breaking.

I wish I didn't feel guilty or selfish or bad for having these feelings but I do and I implode.

I just wish it was all easier.

I hope people who read this don't change their view on me or ditch me. I'm so tired and scared and hurting.

I also didn't make this post to beg for money but if there is anyone out there who could just help a little it really does help.

My P @ y p@l is corazon_x_law@yahoo.co.uk (op people it's not a ship. This was back when x didn't mean a ship dhdhdbdhd)

Or my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/cyborgfranky

It's 5am and I sat crying on the toilet like a loser.

I feel better for screaming here but.. damn.

[transuncletaylor]

I realized that I'm coming up on 10 years since I cut my mother out of my life. I was 24 years old when I did that, practically a baby. I'm 34 now and my life is completely different. A life I have worked so hard to build for myself and even though I'm not doing okay right now, it's far better, brighter, and more amazing than it was 10 years ago

Behind the cut: just me rambling positively about what I have made of myself

I went no contact towards the end of January 2014. I didn't have a driver's license, I relied on my friends to drive me from time to time. I walked everywhere or took one of the few buses my small city had. I was making $11 an hour and struggling to get by, luckily rent was only $256 for an old townhouse that had no insulation and freezing in the winter. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life back then. I was just starting to see the trauma and start that long journey to healing. I was depressed, constantly anxious as my baseline, I was so lost and confused and for the first time, I had true autonomy and choice but no idea what to do now that the strings were snipped.

That year I got into a grad program, I moved back to my hometown where the university was. In those 10 years I have gotten my master's degree, I got to study abroad like I had always dreamed of in Hong Kong. I learned to drive and got a car. I got to travel both solo and with friends across the country and the world. I fell in love a few times and even though it didn't work out those few times, I cherish the time I had with them and all that they had given me.

I got a job at a prestigious university in my field, studying to become a foreign service officer. I got to plan and put on speaker events on campus, my greatest one was a conference in Shanghai on the subject of environmental sustainability in Asia. I walked away after two years when I realized this wasn't the life for me. I wasn't happy and thriving and ended up in the hospital at one point. Cause, you know, fuck the government.

In those 10 years, I got to volunteer with the local rabbit rescue as a bunny butler and the rabbit taxi service driving rabbits across the state as they journey across multiple states to their new home. I got into the tech industry and have bounced around from a few companies, but found my passion in helping people.

I have my own apartment now, making a decent enough wage, enough for me to live on, save some, and give some to the community when I can. I like to commission artists to draw Zuko or Zukka holding a rabbit(s). I know what it's like to struggle, to not have food or rent money, and so I made it part of my life to give my time, knowledge, comfort, resources, money, whatever, whenever I can. Because that's all I want, to be the person I wish I had when I was younger. And that includes the present me too, I work on being gentle with myself, care for myself now, advocate for myself.

In those 10 years, I have gotten to adopt a few rabbits. I have three now and they are the sweetest assholes. Toffee is my sweet boy, he's blind now, but he's as happy as he's ever been. He loves his giant boyfriend who's 3x his size. Kiwi is my troublemaker and cuddle bun who will let me know I'm late to dinner time. Dusty is my little diva, Mr. Prissy Paws as I like to call him. He's here to look cute and make me laugh when his grumpy butt gets happy during dinner time and he does his happy dance.

I have gotten to learn about myself in those 10 years. I got to realize my gender after one too many times looking at Sokka art and being like hmmm, why do I want to be him??? I started drawing around that time and wanted to make a comic about me, but wanted me to be a boy. Then my himbo brain made the connection as I was driving to my sister's house for new years eve. I learned that I wasn't a fuck up for an adult and that really I just had ADHD this whole time.

I got to know so many amazing and beautiful people and learn who loved me back. I got to heal so much and even though I think there's still plenty left to heal, I have made it so far. I have reconnected with my aunt and uncle, learned the family lore, I became the cool fun uncle to my sister's kids.

My body is looking more and more how I want it and I hate it less now. My arms are slowly becoming covered in beautiful tattoos, my hair is growing out, I'm going to the gym to get stronger (so I can outrun the cops and punch n*zis in the next county over and to be able to pick up and carry Kiwi, he's heavy as fuck).

I learned to draw and be creative, something I had always struggled with because I wasn't good enough and wasn't perfect the first time. But I kept with it cause it brought me joy and peace while I drew and it brought me joy to share it with others.

And even though I'm not doing okay right now and had gone to a behavioral health urgent care recently, I'm sitting here reflecting and looking behind me to see how far I have come. How many mountains I climbed, how many steps I have taken, how long ten years have been. I was just 24 when I decided I wanted to make a change and now I'm 34, a transformed man, barely recognizable from the young woman I was.

If you made it this far, thank you 💜

[thatphantomtroupelady]

~A WEB OF GUILT~

Ingredients: kurapika x leorio, depression, alcoholism, recovery, hurt/comfort, angst

A one-shot with Kurapika having a bad case of revengicitis and Leorio subsequently having had enough of him pushing everyone away

word count: 1.5k

"I'll not be able to attend Killua's birthday party." Kurapika sighed, sitting down on the couch beside him. "I'm sorry but I have work to do. It was hard enough to find time for this meeting."

"Seriously, Kurapika?" Leorio frowned. "And what does that work include, huh? Blackmailing more people?"

Kurapika sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes." His eyes grew foggy. "Perhaps it does."

"Kurapika." Leorio shifted closer to him. "Kurapika, look at me."

"I-"

"Just do it."

Kurapika slowly raised his eyes to his.

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe your clan would have never wanted you to turn out like this? Really, if someone else had survived instead of you, would you have wanted this path for them?" Leorio took his friend by the shoulders. "Be truthful."

"I wish..." Kurapika lowered his gaze once more. "I wish the Spiders killed me too. So I could die with them in peace."

"Kurapika." Leorio's voice softened. "That's... that's a normal thought, you know. Sometimes, when it gets so hard, I start wishing the same. That doesn't mean it's okay though."

"Nothing's okay, Leorio. Nothing." A stary tear trickled down his cheek, dripping onto the cheap leather of the couch. "Everything's so screwed. I'm so screwed. If only I would have killed the Spiders back in York New City I- it would have been so much better. If the fucking Spiders hadn't killed my clan in the first place, everything would have been so fucking better."

"You can't change the past, Kurapika. But you can change the future. I want you to-"

"There's nothing left for me." Kurapika lashed out, getting up to turn away from him. "Nothing." His breath came out in irregular gasps. "My clan is dead. And soon, I'll die too. That's it-"

I'm here for you, Leorio wanted to scream, yet nothing came out. Instead, he felt a sudden heat of emotion in his chest. Sadness? Anger? Rushing forward, he grabbed Kurapika and pinned him to the wall with a kiss. Hard. Angry. Compassionate.

As the shock passed away, Kurapika shoved him back. "No." He whispered, wiping his lips with trembling hands.

Leorio suddenly felt ashamed. "I just-"

"Get out." Kurapika whispered, shaking his head as he struggled to breathe. "Leave."

"Kurapika, just listen to me-"

"Fuck. Off."

With tight shaking fists, Leorio walked out of the hotel.

_____

It had been a week since then, and Leorio couldn't stop thinking about it. He could barely sleep, tossing and turning all night- thinking about what he could do for his friend- or more than that? Was he more than that? Wasn't that just a hurried move? He had not truly meant the kiss part, had he?

The next morning, Leorio decided to quit running away from his problems. When dialling Kurapika's number didn't work, he drove back to the shabby hotel.

"Is Kurapika still registered in Room 203?"

The receptionist gave him a disgusted look. "Oh yea. Him. He's still here." Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the computer. "All I keep seeing from him are booze orders, booze orders, and booze orders." She dramatically counted on her fingers.

Leorio fought the urge to punch her. Or punch anything in general. Especially Kurapika.

Running up to his room, he knocked on the door. "Open up, you idiot!" When that didn't work, he tried the handle of the door. Easily, it bowed down.

"Hey! Why the fuck is the door unlocked, huh?!" Leorio yelled, entering the room. "You even there?"

His gaze travelled through the gray cement walls, the empty couch, and the herd of empty cans and bottles covering the ground. "Seriously, you drank this much in just a week?"

"Gosh this place stinks." He muttered. Failing to find him in the kitchen and the bedroom, he moved to check the bathroom. And there he finallt found him, curled up on the floor beneath the sink.

"What the fuck?" Leorio cursed under his breath, instantly crouching down to check his pulse. Stable. He had only passed out.

As gently as possible, he carried Kurapika to the bed, laying him on his side. Just in case, he also placed a bucket near him.

While waiting for him to wake up, Leorio decided to start cleaning up the place. There was no room service- guests were expected to clean up after themselves- only a janitor down in the lobby, always to be found sitting in a corner and playing games on his phone. Borrowing a few supplies from him, Leorio got to work.

First, the collection of empty cans and bottles. Tying it all neatly- along with some other trash- in black plastic bags, he carried it out to the dumpster in the back of the building.

"Cleaning up for your friend?" The receptionist rolled her eyes as he passed by. "Oh, how sweet. Or did he just call you over for a clean up?"

"None of your business, hag." Leorio rolled his eyes back at her.

The receptionist smirked.

When he got back up, he found a puddle of vomit underneath Kurapika's face. Cursing himself for ever leaving him alone, he began wiping away at his face and hair. Once satisifed, he carried him over to lie down on the couch instead.

He took off the bedsheet to wash in the sink, wiped the mattress, and continued his flow. After vacuuming the place, helping the unconscious Kurapika throw up once more, and a few smaller chores; Leorio finally settled down on the floor against the couch, feeling quite pleased with himself... but also, hungry.

"Alright, I'll just order takeout." Leorio mumbled to himself.

"Hungry." A weak voice replied back.

Leorio smiled, turning around to face him. "Finally awake now, huh?"

"Leorio..." Kurapika whispered, barely able to even keep his eyes open. "... I'm sorry."

Leorio felt his chest tighten. "We can talk about it later. Do you want some water?"

Kurapika slowly nodded.

By the time Leorio returned from the kitchen, Kurapika had pulled himself together enough to sit up, albeit still needing support from the backrest.

"Drink up."

With a small nod, Kurapika took the glass in his shaking hands. Leorio watched carefully as Kurapika drank it, ready to catch the glass during a potential slip of hands.

Kurapika returned the glass and curled up further into himself, anticipating another argument.

Instead, Leorio gently prompted. "Do you want to talk?"

Kurapika stared at his knees. "Maybe."

"Okay." Taking a deep breath Leorio sat down beside him, further away than he'd have liked. But he should give him space. "So... to be blunt, I think you should stop with your whole mission and find something better to do with your life. Thoughts?"

Kurapika back bowed further, nose touching the knees. "It'd be a betrayal." He whispered.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, and get this in your head, it's not your fault. It's not your fault the Spiders did what they did. Even if you were with them at the time, you would not have been able to save them. Yeah?"

Kurapika suddenly looked angry. "Yeah? What, yeah? You're doing the exact same thing I am- dedicating your life to lost loved ones. You're only working so hard to be a doctor because you feel guilty about letting your friend die."

"You're wrong."

"No."

"Yes." Leorio clenched his hands into a tight fist, digging them into his thighs. "There's a huge difference between what I'm doing and what you are. You wanna know? Sure. You're avenging the dead while I'm making sure what happened doesn't happen again. If I would be going for revenge like you are, I would have been trying to kill the doctors or politicians or whoever due to whom my friend wasn't able to get medical attention. But instead, I'm going to be a doctor. I'm going to be a good change in the world. It's a much less selfish cause than yours is."

"What now..." Kurapika's eyes dimmed. "You expect me to do what then? Be a bounty hunter? That's no better-"

"You're missing my point, Kurapika. If you really wanna deal with your guilt, you should do it in a healthy way. Being a bounty hunter isn't a healthy way either, at least for you. You could... you could maybe help conserve other small clans like yours?" Leorio smiled, proud of his own ideas. "Yeah yeah yeah! You could totally do that, Kurapika! It won't be easy to let go of your habits but won't it be a much better way to honor their memory?"

"...and the scarlet eyes? I should just let them stay in their dirty hands? And the Spiders... they should just- just roam around freely?"

"No."

"Then-"

"You will do all of that too. But not alone, Kurapika. Never alone again. We'll figure something out. There's Gon and Killua too. I bet they're way stronger now. We could add more people in the group. It'd work out, I promise. We'll do both the Spiders and scarlet eyes thing, and the clan saving thing. Just don't- just don't drift away."

"I don't want to involve-"

"Kurapika, we're friends. That's what friends do!"

Kurapika closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. "Just friends?" He turned to look at him, a small smile on his lips.

"Is that- is that a... yes?"

Kurapika's smile widened and that was all the confirmation Leorio needed.

[vole-mon-amour]

So in the ending where V leaves Johnny with Alt and V becomes the new legend of Night City, Rogue never leaves a video message to V.

So to my understanding, V dies in space, despite us not seeing that? And Kerry still tells V to get back in one piece, so he obviously doesn't know? And all those people that leave their messages don't know?

But Rogue doesn't leave the message because she knows that V simply didn't return and never will?

Currently I'm at, "Why? Why this ending at all, then?" Doesn't seem like a good ending to me (doesn't seem like a good tragedy to me, either, but that's not what I ever wanted from this game, so I'm definitely biased). I mean, I cried way harder here: leaving Johnny and entering the well is way worse than when I crossed the bridge to give him V's body. Though I also started crying again when it was time to leave Kerry. Ugh.

Yo, CDPR, a true happy ending when? Hm?

P.S.: The things I (re?)learned is that, in the end, I really don't care for anyone but Johnny, Rogue, and Kerry. The only character I like V to bake up next to in "Johnny dies" ending is Kerry (and I would love that to be female V, thanks very much), not Judy or whoever. I have tons of feelings about Rogue's reaction to V giving Johnny their body, but that's for another post.

In general, I like Judy (i have my problems with her character, but in the end she, herself, says she was heavily depressed and that leaving Night City was good for her) and Vik (now, that's a good friend.)

Misty is the real one (thinking about PL. Misty, you are so 👏)

Panam is alright, but by no means she'd be my go to (and I dislike her quests.)

I liked Evelyn, but she didn't make it even halfway through the game (I think).

Mama Welles deserves respect for all the things she did for V & for reaching out to V (the question is, whether V wants that bc I have a similar situation irl & it can be very very hard on you mentally.)

The rest characters and nova are kinda meh? Unless I forgot someone.

I didn't think going all the way to the end and through all endings would hit me this hard. It's like, "Why am I crying? I already knew that." Didn't get any easier, though. I love this game (and not so much the DLC, and I refuse to talk about the DLC right now).

(Wish I maxed out my relationship with Johnny on the first run, but oh well.)

[weirdraccoon]

This is one of my favorite songs and I feel it every time I hear it. I have a... story that goes with it but it's personal and kind of stupid so read only if you are curious.

Warning tho: Suicidal thougts and a very long rambling text.

So, in 2022 I went to Canada to meet with a guy I met on facebook (don't think anything yet, I know this is dumb). Anyway, this dude I met was from Mexico too, different city, but close enough he could visit.

We started talking during the pandemic and I didn't want to meet him in person haha and I used the fact that we had to stay home as an excuse to explain why I didn't want him to come (this dude couldn't take a simple "no").

Fastforward to May 2022 and he came to my city. I still didn't want to meet him but I admit he had been fun to talk to and I considered him an online friend. Besides, I had already looked him up, y'know, to check he was who he said he was and all. (I even found the name of his parents lol I'm good).

I remember Dr. Strange was on theatres and I told him I'd meet him if he invited me to see it and when we were waiting in line he told he was moving to Canada and he'd like it if I went with him. I was like "hold it, you're just an online friend" but I guess he had already put my in the girlfriend-zone which sucks.

That year was one of the worst years, emotionally for me. I've just finished my career and I was giving online classes and I felt like a functional adult. But then, I quit my job because of dumb stuff my dad put in my head and I had nothing to do- no work, no study, no energy to write or paint or anything really. And I started thinking:

If I'm doing nothing, then what's the point.

To be alive without actually living.... It'd be better if I didn't exist at all.

I guess it consumed me and it depressed me even more and all I did was sleep and pretend I was doing good when I had to go see my family.

I felt like a ghost. Now I realize I had been feeling like that, as if in a daze or a dream or like smoke, for a very very long time.

FB dude invited me to Canada then, paid for the plane and everything. Mom seemed excited that I was apparently meeting someone, even Dad was unworriedly cheering me on, telling me I should explore and travel and meet people (ohgoshamIcrying?)

So I went.

I knew I couldn't put my life in other people's hands, and not in a trusting way but in a desperate attempt at finding a lifeline.

That song?

I first heard it when I was sitting near a lake.

Dude had to work all the time I was there, so I was by myself most of the time. I still slept most of the day, then went out, drank water to feel full but I didn't eat that much in those two weeks, wandered around downtown, visited the National Gallery, took a bunch of photos to look content on my instagram...

I almost didn't come back.

My thinking process was: if I die here, they won't have to see my lifeless body. They won't have to hold a -what's the word- like they did for my uncle (who died just a few months before my trip). It'll be better for them all if I just disappeared. Bunch of people disappear everyday. Tourists. Specially women, right?

I listened to that song every single day during my stay there and I kept looking for the oportunity, the place. Waiting for someone to actually do it for me and even wishing FB dude was a psycho who'd do it for me cause apparently I was a coward.

Anyway, I did come back and I feel awake and I no longer want to do it even if I think not existing is still a good idea. Went to the psychologist, figured some stuff out, realized I hadn't mourn my uncle like I should've, put my life on my hands with a pretty simple and dumb goal: I don't want to leave that on my brother.

Now I'm still convincing myself, every day, that I do want to be here.

And even if there are days when I just sleep and think that I don't deserve to exist, I keep trying the next day.

Ignoring myself is difficult, but I also enjoy shutting myself up by proving I can do things.

It helps that now I have a job, so I have to get up for that, and HL helped a lot, taking me home for a little while and finding me a new little fandom with even a friend or two (even if we dont talk much).

Still... I'm scared of maybe not comitting it, but I guess I don't really take care of myself, and I'm just following my uncle's steps on how to stop existing.

But scared is not the right word either. I guess I'm just sad. Again. All the time.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

WHO AM I? - Learning To Appreciate Myself, & Honoring My Goodness.

I've been growing in different avenues and for the longest time I've been having to sit with myself. I think this is the closest I've gotten to understand adulthood in many of its forms and its the process of sitting with your emotions even when all you wanna do is run away.

I guess you've got it. I've grown up. I feel it.. But then, I dont? I feel as though I have a lot of playfulness in me, but I feel the seriousness taking up space. I can acknowledge that I haven't been doing my job, and have lost myself along the way.. Because I've been who I am, I'm wondering if I could be another. I'm holding myself hostage, I feel it. I can't lie, there is so much I want to be but I've put a mask on myself so that others couldn't perceive the real me.. Only to still be perceived by false perception.

Misunderstood is code word for, I dont care to understand this person, so I'm just going to label them how I see them, how I value them and so on so forth. So I never go out my way to call myself deeply misunderstood, even though I can be.. Thats not the life I wish to see for myself.

I've been wanting to runaway. Not emotionally, just physically. Like get out of town. Move away. That's all I've been wanting. I held on to my family and friends because I didn't want to lose them, or have them miss out on my growth but then.. Chaos had came through my life and I feel now its best to just get away, and I feel it necessary to grow apart.

I mean.. I'm sure they'll miss me, of course.. But there is no way I can grow in this town I live in. Atlanta is not what it use to be, & I'm tired of feeling alone in this. I want to get away.

I've tried to go out and flow, but the flow here is chaotic and triumphing from the damage that has been done on to me and others is a story board full of discussion.

Even the LGBTQ+ scene isn't enough for me, which was the only reason I really stayed put in the city. I love my city, I do.. but.. I've got a feeling I've grown enough to accept that I must be aligned with my truest feelings and this one takes the cake.

As I'm learning to appreciate adulthood, I'm learning to accept my past truths. I was alone, tired, scared, and adulting was not my favorite thing. I mean, I didn't care. I just wanted to enjoy it. I wasn't enjoying life, so I focused on the partying and drinking. And FUNNY enough, I took part of it even when I told myself I wouldn't. I put myself in spaces having the belief I would be okay, and when it did not happen that way... I failed... distanced myself from people and got out of their business.

Just went away into my little closet, holding on to the meat costumes before they'd be skin and bone. I didn't wanna be alone in it but I felt it best that way.

And then there it was, I opened up a can of worms.

My rage, my power, my worth, it all started to make sense.

I opened up to my darkness and realized how much of me I had left unnoticed. While I was running away from my problems because of depression, I learned why that depression was there. I wasn't having fun. I wasn't loving life. I was too serious. I called it imposter syndrome. It was killing me from the inside. I had to find myself multiple times and realized I wasn't lost... I just didn't want to be the human God intended me to be. And my heart could feel it, I just didnt know it at the time.

I was fighting 'demons' that were fears of my worth. Fears from my past lives, my exhaustion was tied to the world and the need to be in this patriarchal society. Im done. Its over with, man. And learning to accept my pain in all of it, made things full circle. I had to start all over, another thing in adulthood that isn't everyones favorite. But its starting to become mine.

What I'm learning now, is that I can appreciate why I was running. I'm still going back and forth with me on if I'm truly 'nonbinary' or not, and what that even means for a woman like me. What does it mean to like woman and to want to be in the closet knowing pleasure is around the corner. And what am I even doing? What was the point of it? For the male gaze? Idk.

But for once in my life, I'm getting the hang of appreciating my inner self / inner child instead of forcing her inside the house never letting her see the sunshine on a beautiful day.

I got it all figured out... not. But that's the beauty of it all.

[scorpio-marionette]

"Scared"

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: depression, lack of motivation, social awkwardness, reclusive behavior, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and infidelity, hurt feelings

A/N: I quote My Chemical Romance: "I'm not okay (I promise)." And that is the song of my recent days. No tags, because I don't care if anyone reads this.

11/10/20XX

It's so hard to think that this used to be simple. That we knew what we were doing. That all the troubles we have now are of our own creation. No one did this to us. We suck at talking to each other. Honesty is scary. Blame is easy.

I don't know about you, but I don't care for it anymore.

No one likes me. Even he doesn't like me. They tolerate me, because I can't be normal. Shit, I can't even say his name in this stupid journal. I wish I were normal, statistically speaking. I see him with his friends. They travel. They drink. They party. I don't know why I bother trying. I won't ever fit in. Actor or not, he, like everybody else, is normal. The lack of direct communication is to be expected. The misunderstandings are a part of it. You take it as it comes.

I can't do that. Just like I can't pretend to want to go out for hours and get shitfaced. It scares me that he's ok with not knowing how they really feel. They're supposed to be his friends-

I'm supposed to be his friend... and I can't even tell him I love him. Because I'm too scared he'll brush me off, call it childish and stupid.

Gods, I'm pathetic.

Maybe is ex was right. I don't have what it takes to make it in this town. He'd never pick me even if I told him because I'm not confident enough to go after what I want, so I have no reason to be here. He wouldn't even notice that I'm gone. I'll just go home and go back into hiding from everyone. Writing wouldn't have ever worked out anyways.

~

Dieter sits at your computer, reading the journal your therapist recommended you keep. He had realized he hadn't heard from you in while and was wondering how you were doing when he slipped into your apartment that was across town from his home. He never understood why you didn't just live with him. Not until now.

He never knew how lonely you felt. How out of place he and his so called friends made you feel. So wrapped up in his own entertainment, it didn't cross his mind that you might not be having fun. But he guesses that that's why you always disappeared by the end of each night. His blitzed out mind assuming you had left to get some. When in reality you left to find peace from the noise. Away from the chatter of good vibes only and the smell of alcohol. You were always the more practical one. Taking into consideration everyone's feelings. Prioritizing their needs. Something he didn't seem capable of. That's why he values your opinion. You know people will always get hurt initially, but if it leads to a better, stronger performance later? He'll take it in a heart beat because your thoughts are structured. Your opinion matters to him.

However, he might not get them for much longer. You're wanting to leave. Not just your place, but the whole city! What is he going to do? What can he do? He's not even supposed to be here. You're not home.

The front door opens.

You step in to see Dieter at your open computer. You visibly deflate as your shoulders roll in on themselves. He's seen it. He knows. He looks like he's seen a ghost. You want to tell him it's just a joke. Blowing off steam. Yeah, right. Like he'll buy that. It's all down hill from here.

Dieter stands from the desk chair and faces you properly. He hopes the concern he has is displayed on him face. You're ignoring him though. Hiding by not looking at him.

"Is it true? You don't want to be here anymore?"

"You don't need me to be your assistant anymore, Dieter. You can hire someone-"

"I don't want to hire someone! I want you!"

You cringe at the choice of words. Any other day you would have preened at the use, but now you just ache. He doesn't mean what you want. Get ahold of yourself.

And then his phone rings. He sighs, but he answers.

"Hey Anika, now isn't a good time. I know we're supposed to be trying that new hibachi but I'm about to lose the lo- my best friend right now. I kinda need to stop her from leaving. I know you don't like her, but she's my best friend. I'm not gonna let her leave without trying to convince her to stay. What?! No! No, I'm not cheating on you! She doesn't have fun like us, right?"

He looks to you for confirmation, only to find your fallen face. He stops breathing for a moment. He stammers out a call you back before hanging up. He approaches you like you'll jump if he gets too close. Tears roll down your face freely.

"You're right. I don't have fun like you. I'm no fun at all. I'm too honest. I don't like drugs or alcohol. I think good vibes suck... go have fun. I'll just leave."

You move around Dieter to get the bag he hadn't noticed you packed. You slam your laptop shut and shove it into its case. You hoist a duffel he didn't notice either onto your shoulder. Dieter tries to block your way. Apologizing profusely for what he said. They fall on deaf ears. All you hear as you push past is how you're no fun, and no one likes you.

[hjellacott]

An immigrant's view of Britain and its racism (prompted by the Markle debate)

When I say the issue Britain had with Meghan all along had nothing to do with colour, I also don't mean to say Britain isn't racist.

I've been in Britain for years. I love this country, who in spite of Brexit, has gone from a deeply racist, imperial past to an incredibly diverse, welcoming, highly-multicultural society, most specially here in London and in other big cities like Manchester, Liverpool or York. I'll be the first one to point out many faults of the country, mainly its politicians, and as a female immigrant who really doesn't look British and who has a multi-cultural, multi-racial descendency, I'm no stranger to Britain's occasional bouts of xenophobia, racism, sexism. I've never felt as unwelcome here as I felt immediately after Brexit happened, and even then, for every arsehole who was racist or xenophobic or sexist towards me, for every mouth that called for me to go home, there were ten times more people thanking me for coming, wishing me luck, welcoming me with open arms, giving me oportunities I could've only dreamed of in my own country.

I cannot not love and be grateful for Britain, even now, when it lives its worst times in regards to the treatment of foreigners. My wildest dreams have come true in my few years here, and I've acquired a little chosen family here, and many good friends. So when someone like Meghan Markle makes people think of Britain as this evil country of racists... It does make my blood boil. I'll be the first to admit British society is very particular (and it truly has a ton of very odd, somewhat picky and even slightly shocking behaviours, customs and ways of working, that will shock any foreigner who has regular contact with Brits, such as the constant need to apologise for everything). It's a very specific culture. It's very specific kind of people. But it doesn't make Britain, or Brits, bad.

Britain is so specific that, even when London was, since childhood, my dream city to live in, I became seriously depressed within six months here. And my cultural shock wasn't even that big. It was everything, from the contrast between my overly warm home society to the rather colder British society (in appearance), the weather, the cold, being an outsider... I can't even begin to imagine the even bigger shock it must've been for Meghan, but she had Harry and many friends to help. I came here with nothing.

It took me 2 years to feel 100% adapted to Britain. 100% at home. To truly miss it when I returned to my actual home country. And now, it's home. Now I know the day being an immigrant forces me out (hi Brexit you bitch) I will be sincerely, deeply sad, because this is home too, now. And so, I feel sincerely sad for Meghan, who in spite of three years here, didn't really feel at home. I think she would've been much better off if she'd spent a couple years here before joining the royal life, as a normal citizen.

Like I said, there is sexism, racism, xenophobia, anti-Semitism and so on in Britain, like there is everywhere else. But it's all rooted in bigotry, and in a self-acknowledgement that Britain is a very specific place with a very specific culture, isolated in its little island, developing very differently from the rest of Europe, and that outsiders will not understand. Very often, we indeed need years to even come close to fully understanding these weirdos. That's what made people apprehensive to Meghan Markle, but not her colour.

London, where she was mostly living, has a tremendously large black, multi-racial, and POC population. TREMENDOUS. Also multi-religious. Diversity here, in the city Markle turned into a second home for a while, is huge. Racism is, mainly, in institutions such as the police, and is hugely frowned upon. British society sustains itself on the basis that nothing is worse than offending others, which pushes them to spend half their life apologising for everything (I dare you to spend one day out in the streets of London without receiving at least a few apologies for God knows what) and afraid of causing hurt or offence. Because of this, racists have a tendency towards hiding a bit, and racial attacks are not really frequent, unless the racist bigot is in a position of power (and even then, they'll be too afraid about losing their power that they'll be very discreet about their racism).

Because of this, I guarantee you the Royal Family would be the last place for one to feel serious racism, never the less because Britain had Queen Charlotte, of German descendency, who was heavily rumoured to be about as black as Meghan, based not on her actual colour (which was probably like Meghan's and covered in white make up) but on her large nostrils and other physical traits and family history research. And if there was a single racist person, indeed in the Royal Family, I guarantee you it'd be so incredibly frowned upon, that that person wouldn't dare to open their mouth and say anything remotely racist. It could cost them their job, as it just happened to one working royal.

It's far more likely, and perfectly plausible if you know Brits, that if someone inquired about Archie's skin colour it was more something like "you think he'll be black or redheaded?", in a rather clumsy, but not ill-intended way, probably moved by curiosity due to Harry's hair colour and Meghan's. Brits do, indeed, have a tendency to be socially clumsy and insecure, hence the constant apologising and fear of aggravating someone. And the people who are likely to make a comment like that and accidentally cause offense are, precisely, those who aren't racist. Because if you are a racist and a royal, you're not going to do the slightest thing to risk people figuring out you're a racist.

So overall... I do believe that Meghan being American AND an actress were problematic things for many Brits, but her claims of racism? I think she's really misunderstood the situation. British racism is the police arresting you for no reason, or someone outright calling you a racist slur. Trust me, if someone here has a problem with you they'll be very clear as to what the problem is, won't leave you doubting. What Meghan experienced in the Royal Family was unlikely to be racism, and way more likely to be social clumsiness, specially coming from a family well-known to be incredibly socially stupid and to have very poor social skills between them, with relationship problems and drama flaring up with some frequency.

Yes, there's racism... But Meghan Markle wouldn't be one likely to be the target of it. Ask the teenage, very obviously black kids, around London. They'll tell you about what it really feels like to experience racism.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Some more random thoughts about "The Lost Slayer" Buffy series. But I'm going to break from the norm I've adopted for this series so far and not put everything under a "read more" this time. So, major spoilers for that entire series ahead, beware. If you want to read the series yourself and don't want anything spoiled for it, you probably want to stop reading now.

Buffy and Willow's friendship in the saga--despite the awkwardness in it, and it getting a little fractured a bit--means the world to me. Mainly in that, even with all that, they work things out and still remain the best of friends. And the fact that Willow stayed in the thick of things in the horrible, apocalyptic universe for Buffy, according to Oz kills me. Kills me! -sobs-

Willow and Oz breaking up in the future--because Oz had to kill Willow's vampire-ified parents to save her, Xander, and himself from them, and then Willow not being able to forgive him for that--breaks my heart. But I also think it makes sense, of course. It reminds me a bit of some Fred and Gunn stuff in AtS. And that one line in the book where Willow thought something about, "She couldn't imagine her life without Oz," or whatever, made me think, "That could be foreshadowing that Oz is eventually going to leave her here in S4, sadly, but I also think it's more than that." And I was right. It was this whole Willow not being able to forgive him in this AU, and them breaking up for that reason thing. And I really liked that foreshadow and how this whole thing was set up.

Speaking of Oz, I really loved seeing him in this book and it makes me wish we'd gotten to see more of him in S4. I know it's impossible, because Seth Green wanted off the show, but I guess that's what things like this are for:)

Backing up a bit... Holy crap, the fact that Willow's parents tried to kill her (a second time for Willow's mom, after the "Gingerbread" thing) is so fucked up, and must be so traumatizing for Wills. Ahh! Poor Willow! This whole thing gives me so many feelings.

So, there's a moment where Buffy kisses Xander in here, and while not being a Buffy/Xander shipper (I don't really think the author Christopher Golden is, either), I was more than okay with it. I got the feeling that it was moreso Buffy trying to give Xander something to hold onto/look forward to, because he'd changed so much and become so depressed after everything they'd lost, largely after his losing Anya. And she thought if she didn't, he might go into the upcoming battle in a very reckless and almost suicidal way. (And Buffy thought Angel was dead at this point, so why not give Xander hope and perhaps try to move on with him, maybe?) And fortunately, she was able to reach him. But Xander still died:(

And ahh! His death killed me! And his funeral was so sad! And I think it's fitting that that's the thing that made Buffy and Willow adamant that they were going to find a way for Buffy to go back and fix things.

I also really appreciated the scene where Buffy avenged Kendra, even though I see Dru as a victim of her circumstances (something I really got into in the tags of another post).

Somewhat off-topic of this, but on the topic of Dru, I suppose, The SpikeDru in this book was also great.

And then Wesley thinking about how he'd actually really respected Giles and Giles' attitude towards the Council, and hated to see what had become of Giles as a vampire and the Big Bad of this series... and all the things Wesley in general in this book, really. He's so good here!

And Faith was so awesome! And led the Slayer front for five years while Buffy was imprisoned! And tried to save Joyce from getting killed from Spike, but alas. (And Joyce even came to Buffy in her dreams and told her that Faith tried to save her, before Spike killed them both [also, it's super depressing that in this universe Spike of all people kills Joyce]).

...That's all I can think of right now. There might be stuff I forgot to mention.

Edit: Oh. And the "The Freshman"/"City Of..." parallel we got here, when Buffy thought about calling Angel, but hanging up and not talking to him--because she doesn't know if she'll have the strength to talk to him--in just needing to hear his voice after he'd died in the horrible apocalyptic future she'd seen, that thankfully she's now stopped.

[rarewonderwoman]

As I've been trying to deal with and work on my anxiety and depression, I've been trying to figure out if I can separate what relates to my medical problems and what relates to my mom passing away. Plus, I feel like there's some other odds and ends that play into them as well....of course. But then I wonder, do I really need to find the device, the percentage of each? Isn't all just lumped into the overall aspect of anxiety and depression?

I've gotten to the point that after 12 and a half years, it's honestly hard to remember a life not dealing with my rare diseases. It feels like the person I was then is a completely other person, another lifetime ago. I wish I didn't have to deal with all of this, but it's the life I have. I trust in God that he won't give more than you can handle. Sometimes, though, I just wonder what each of our standards are. I just hate how everything wares me out. I love walking our dog, but it hurts my feet and tires my legs. I used to walk this city like nothing, now I'm happy to walk 3 ish blocks and make it back. Some days are better than others, but I never know how it'll be until I start walking. This is scary to me, and I'm not sure others understand. When I start a walk, I just pray I make it back safely of my own 2 feet.

Just a taste of the items that run through my head on a near daily basis.

Then I was just beginning to think I was grasping my medical effects on my life, and then last year (wow, a year already), my mom passed away. She was like my best friend. I talked to her about pretty much everything, and she tried to give me a fair answer or guide me to find the answer myself. She had an amazingly strong faith in God, which I looked up to and still strive to achieve myself. She chose me in so many ways to be her daughter, and now she's not here. The woman who wanted me as her daughter is gone, and I'm just lost. I would turn to her for advice, and now I'm not sure who to speak to. I have started to see a therapist, and that's how I ended up on this app, through a suggestion from her. Honestly, I think it might be helping a little in all this fucked up stuff in my head. It's already been a year since my mom passed, and I'm still majorly floundering. I'm getting better slowly, sometimes very slowly, dealing with many things myself. But every time, it just also reminds me that she is not here. I wish she still was. That's my selfish wish, I guess. But at the same time, I know she is doing better now than ever before, as well as no longer in pain. I just wish it could have happened here....she could have stayed a little longer.

I guess in the end, I can separate some of the items that cause my anxiety and depression. However, they all play together to get me to the point I am today. Without a piece of it all, maybe I wouldn't be so "messed up" if it wasn't all mixed together. But everything we are and experience makes us who we are. I just wish I could handle myself a little better and understand things a little better.

[mariasabanahabanabana]

Weenais Raza!!! Your ("fav") depressed bitch Is back from the dead...Literally...

Okay... First of all, I know I don't owe anyone any explanations, but, the support you given my fics - content has been too much, That in my opinion you deserve an explanation of why I have disappeared as a good Latinoamérican father... (Those from Latam will understand me)...

Where to start...? Cause actually there have been several things.. in this months everything has happened to me... I moved, I found out that you don't have to eat salmon to get salmonella (Oh but what a dirty [rancid] joke), What else... I got a job with the excuse that this would give me a reason to get out of bed (spoiler alert, it and continues to work, there's times when the action becomes a livid hell, This I'll explain later), the doctora detected me thyroid... so... I cried... I really cried a lot, I started a legal process against the medical system of my small town for medical negligence....I cried again, my mom almost kicked me out, so... I had a depressive episode (self injury) after 4 "healthy" years... But despite this, there was something "good after all" because i had found and And I swear (I know it will sound stupid and maybe it is) that I didn't know that platonic - romantic - reciprocal love could be so beautifully healthy... But just as I experienced - I went through a stage that I wanted to live at least once in my life, I also learned that communication is much more important than it seems and even more so if this relationship is through to long distance, I also understood that these kinds of relationships are too complicated, It requires extreme patience, COMMUNICATION again, clear love and a maturity that probably not all of us have at the moment. Soooo, again, this relationship isn't for everyone and I include myself in it...Tbh, I don't think I would like to have to go through that again, however, I learned a lot in the Process... Process that like everything in this life naturally ended I'll not inquire further into that since I think I already said what I had to say and by that I mean "COMMUNICATION" and for respect... To surprise (lie, I was surprised) From no one I had another depressive episode (self-injury) again, so I was in and out of the hospital, Experience that causes a rupture in the psyche of your mind Well, on the one hand, you feel that you shouldn't be there, that your reasons that led to a mental decline are banal, but on the other hand, You are also aware of how fragile the human mind is and the importance of GOING (F *ING) [IF YOU CAN]) TO THE PSYCHOLOGIST AND TAKE YOUR MEDICATIONS (Honestly, don't let them, if the doctors - specialists were sent to you it was for a reason...) Look, Im not here to take a position on psychological medication, However... i regret for thinking that I could "be okay "without them...

pobre estúpida (Poor stupid)

from: my

to: my

What else....Oh yes, I moved again to return to where I was living in a beginning, I know it sounds confusing, but let's just say that I'm a city girl who has been moving between the country and the city, and for me good or bad luck, I rather city...

Now that I remember, between my "lover - break-up era" and the constant visits to "la casa de la risa" (hospital), The 💀💀💀 anniversary of a boy - friend - boyfriend was fulfilled... And... Pfft It's been a long time (since 8th grade [high school]) that I haven't felt this miserably alone... (Seriously, I don't wish it on anyone, actually, this is one of the many reasons why the WandaVision series was and will be one of my favorites, just like her character.)

Anyway... The reason why I tell you this is, Razita, is because of the issue of long distance relationships - Mental health - Latin America and the true context that is hidden by jokes made by the Latin Americans themselves..., Cause first, no matter how hard we try to help someone with their mental health, we are not responsible for it, This can vary and yes, I'm speaking to the bullying community in general, Second, no love letter or msg are gonna replace a hug or physical contact, third and last, I count the days... No... I pray and ask whoever listens to me, Any deity that exists or if it exists, that the sentence of Nicolás Maduro is at least half as terrible long as his government term was..

And well, to finish this explanation that seems more like a mediocre attempt to show pity... I moved for who the h*ll know what number of times... So now I find myself living in Cuba and fresh out, healed, sewn up and more doped than I came in...

Is there any lesson or reflection that lrs wants to leave with this? No... I would tell them to take advantage of their life every second but no, That phrase can be the same as shit that "God's timing is perfect" And no, I'm not saying this with the intention of insulting any religion or belief, but I sincerely believe that "God" has better things to do... Or That these same phrases are toxic positivity, something that at least Im fed up with...

Anyway, I'll try to be uploading content, other than songs written based on sertraline or lamotrigine...

I know I don't know you, but with all my heart thank you for continuing to interact with my account and content...I wish you the best on this roller coaster called life... And remember... Never say "co Ger" In Latin America... Or at least not in Mexico...

[sometimesrosy]

Have you ever had this urge to run? For years I’ve been talking of how I’d like to live abroad, of how I don’t want to be in my small town forever, of how I’m missing opportunities or whatever. I’m a very lonely person, but do have a great support system in my family and boyfriend. We’ve been living together for 3 years and bought an apartment together. That has been going great, but I feel more and more disconnected with my life. I don’t like my job, I don’t like the people in this town, I don’t like how there’s nothing going, how there’s no one new to meet. It really is a small town, in a small country. It will have a huge improvement until 2030, with projects for an international data center, a university polo, a train station that connects high speed trains directly to a big European capital. But until then… I feel like I’m wasting my life away, just surviving each day that goes by. To make matters worse, both me and my partner hang out with this friend of ours that lived most of his life in New York. He’s content with his life here, but talks so much about his past and I can’t help but wonder “man, things are so incredibly different, it really is like in the movies!” But it’s not something I can suggest to my partner. Moving to another continent? That’s too much. He doesn’t even want to go live in the capital, and I’m not sure our capital would be enough for me. I’ve talked with him about moving to the UK, but I can never have a serious conversation with him, he immediately replies “you can go and maybe I’ll go after”, but Ive told him I’m not willing to risk our relationship, I would rather sacrifice myself than lose what we have. But that’s exactly it, being in my life feels more and more like a sacrifice and I can’t pinpoint why. I don’t know if it’s really me wanting to run from my life, or if a part of me really needs a change. My mom says I’d be happy living abroad, and she knows me better than anyone. Our friend said he came back from NY because he needed a change. I need a change, but I don’t know how great that change will have to be. I’m not too worried about going because I know we will always have here to come back to, with our families. I realize it’s too much to ask of him, but I just feel myself withering away. I’ve had depression once, while at university. I’m 26 now, I don’t want to have another major depression, but I also feel like it’s too soon to think I’m wasting my life away. Sorry for the incoherence, writing this from the heart.

PS. Forgot to say, many people I know are actually moving abroad and going to the UK, mostly. They’ve had way more opportunities there and don’t want to come back here, and I envy that feeling. At my first job, there was an elderly couple that would talk to me from time to time, and they would question me if I had thought about moving abroad because there’s no opportunity for me to grow here. At the time I didn’t give it much thought, had just come back from university and starting my first job. But now? It’s not even because of the career opportunities, it’s because I feel like I don’t belong here, like I’m so out of place. Just wanted to add this.

+++

You are in a pickle.

You want to move, badly, but you have a life that is built where you are and it isn't that portable.

I do think you're romanticizing life abroad and you're not romanticizing your own life-- all you see in your life is drudgery. Life in big cities is also a lot of drudgery. It can be very very exhausting and stressful because you have to work so hard just to afford basic necessities. But of course, yes, there are good things about it. Lots to do. Many people to meet. New experiences.

I spent most of my life in New York City, and I didn't like it for the first twenty years. And then I did like it for the next twenty years. Now I live in the country, very isolated, and sometimes I wish I could go back and be less isolated and have more opportunity, but I'd give up the security, peace and opportunity to do my own work without worrying about the rent every month.

Maybe you should travel. Before you give up your life as it is, find a way to spend some time in London or New York on a less permanent basis. I don't mean travel like a tourist, I mean find a way to stay in a real apartment in a real neighborhood for like a month or whatever. Try it out a little.

I don't know if you'll find the answer to your problems in another country.

Maybe you will, but like I said, there are tradeoffs wherever you are. Will another PLACE make you happy? Maybe. Maybe not. The problem is that wherever you go, you're still you. So if you don't figure out the problems inside of you, they're going to travel with you and sooner or later, when you discover that living in a city is not the romanticize movie like dream you thought it was, they're going to come bacl.