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softstarlite · 1 year ago

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The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 2

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javier is 40 and reader is 27), talks of baby loss, talks of pregnancy, angst, cheating, mentions of cancer, mentions of death.

Rating: +18 (not explicit)

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter 1 / Masterlist

A/N: here you go guys!! Second chapter is up!! I'm feeling so much better from my stupid cold. I would like to keep a schedule with posting, my goal is to post at least one new chapter every week but I had a cornea transplant less than 5 months ago (I still have 14 stitches on my right eye) so sometimes I need to rest my eye from screen time or the pain sometimes gets too bad and I need to rest in general, so I don't know if I'll be able to meet my goal every week, sorry in advance. I hope you guys like this new chapter!! <3 <3

Divider by @saradika

Javier wipes the sweat of his hands on the front of his jeans for the fourth time in the last hour since he started getting ready to go to Maria´s house, he looks at his reflection on the mirror, he can feel fear engulf his body, fear of disappointing Maria, he wasn't the same man he was when he left for Colombia. That day…

His mom, Alma, had been diagnosed with lung cancer four months before it happened, when Lorraine had told him that she was pregnant, he was shit scared, how could he be a father? He didn't know anything about being one, he was only 27, he assumed that he had at least 5 or 6 years more before even thinking about having a family of his own.

He didn't hesitate to get on one knee and proposed to Lorraine, part of him was happy that his mom would be able to meet at least one of her grandchildren; the doctors had already prepare them for the worst, the cancer was very aggressive, and even if his mom was still young, only 44, they had detected it very late.

The night before the wedding Lorraine showed up at his parents ranch, crying her heart out. They were sleeping in different houses since it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding. He got really worried, he didn't believe in that tradition, she had been the one very keen in doing it so it was already rare that she had showed up there unannounced but even more that she showed up crying.

“Lor? What happened?” he had been sitting on the front porch when she appeared, he got up from his seat quickly and headed to her putting his hands on her cheeks “What is it Lor? Is the baby okay?” he asked her with so much worry in his voice.

Lorraine only kept saying sorry and shaking her head no again and again. “Please baby, tell me what is happening, are you hurt?” he pleaded her.

“I'm sorry Javi… I'm so sorry… There´s no baby…” she said, not able to meet his gaze.

“What? Baby…” he could feel tears in his eyes already, he thought that she had lost it, he never would've thought that she had done what she did. He tries to make her look at him ¡. “Baby…Lor, look at me. Baby it's not your fault, we need to take you-” he was interrupted by her.

“No, Javi… There's no baby, there never has been a baby…” she took a step away from him, feeling shame in what she had done.

“What? Lorraine, this is not funny… Stop it” that was the only possibility in his head, she must have been pranking him, she would never hurt him this way, she loved him, right?

“I'm so sorry Javi, baby…” she tried to reach for him now but he didn't say anything and just walked inside without a word.

The next morning no one could find Javier, until his mom saw a little note on the kitchen table where he had written that he had accepted the job with the DEA in Colombia that the rest could be explained by Lorraine.

You were only 14 when you were sat down by your mom and Alma and got the news about her sickness, that was your first heartbreak, but definitely not your last. You loved Alma like a second mother, she was there when you said your first words, she had been the one encouraging you when you took your first steps… You couldn't imagine a life and a world without her, without her smile or her kindness… No, it had to be a mistake, the doctors mixed up some papers and they gave her the diagnosis of someone else, she couldn't leave you…

When Javier left, you weren't given the real reason from the adults around you, they told you that he and Lorraine weren't together anymore and he had to go work in Colombia, that was it. Obviously, living in a place like Laredo you heard the truth very soon, and felt heartbroken all over again for him, as big as your crush for him was, when you saw how excited he was when he talked about anything related with the baby in the weekly dinners your families shared, it filled your heart to see him just happy, so you couldn't understand how Lorraine had been able to break him like that, she said that he loved him and wanted to spend her entire life with him but then do that? How can you be so cruel to someone that you supposedly love?

A year later from Javier´s move to Colombia, Alma passed away, you only remember crying for three days straight without even sleeping. You remember your mom telling you that “Javiercito is coming for the funeral, he'll be here tomorrow morning”, then the next thing you remember is been dressed in all black, that made you think that Alma would´ve hate it, then not been able to see the casket through the tears and the last thing you remember of that day was how Javier had put his arms around you, caressing your hair and telling you how much Alma loved you and that would never leave you. It never did, you could feel her love everyday, in little things like the chirping of the birds outside, the warm sun, the little desserts you would bake with her recipes, etc…

That was the last time you saw Javier, when you were 15 and crying for the biggest lost in your life.

He parks his truck on Maria´s driveway and gets out with a nervous sigh. After he knocks on the door twice, you open the door with a big smile, fuck, he thought you wouldn't be here. He didn't have a problem with you being here, on the contrary, he was very happy when he saw you the other day, it had been way too long without seeing you. But the problem was that you had grown up… And fuck, did the years had treat you amanzingly. You were a full on woman now, and he didn't like that, because it made his body feel things that it shouldn't. If Maria or his own father could read what had gone through his mind since he first saw you a few days ago, he would definitely be six feet under.

“Hey! You're here!” you say with that big smile on your face. He doesn't say anything, just nods and gives you a tight smile back.

“Come in!” you move a little to give him enough space to come inside. “Mom is still cooking what must be her twentieth dish” you chuckle. He slips inside but you hadn't anticipated how broad his shoulders were so he bumps one of his shoulders into you.

“Oh, sorry” he apologizes and you can't help but feel a million goosebumps all over your body. “She shouldn't have trouble herself…”

You shake the feeling away, you weren't a stupid teenager anymore. “yeah, tell that to her” you smirk knowing he would never dare.

He walks to the kitchen with you behind, he remembers the way as if no time has passed, as if he hadn't gone through more than a decade without putting a foot in this house. When he makes it past the arch of the kitchen, he sees your mom, her back facing him, he can see the grey conquering her whole hair. For a moment he can almost see his own mom beside her cutting some vegetables.

Seeing his silence, you decide to clear your throat to make your presence known to your mom. She turns around starting a sentence that sounds like a question about who was at the door, but as soon as she sees Javier there, before her, her mouth shuts and she freezes. Knowing they'll need a moment, you walk around them to the stove to continue to stir whatever dish your mom is making now, so it doesn't burn while they catch up.

“Javiercito!” she almost screams, launching herself into him, a hand on the back of his head and the other arm across his back.

“Maria…” is all that he can get out of his mouth, apart from the biggest breath out that he has ever let out. He didn't even know that he was holding that breath for so long.

“Déjame verte bien mijo (Let me get a good look at you, my son)” she pulls away from him and pushes him a little back by the shoulders, then looks him up and down like she was examining that he isn´t missing anything.

“Ma, esta bien, no le agobies (Mom, he's fine, don't bother him)” you say from the stove, not even looking at them.

“¿Bien? (fine?) Have you seen him? Está demasiado delgado, gracias a dios que prepare suficiente comida. Siéntate, mijo. (He's too skinny, thank god i´ve prepare enough food. Sit, my son) I'll bring you some food right away” She says, patting his cheek and signaling with a hand to the kitchen table, then she goes back to the stove and replaces the place you were filling.

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief. “Do you want something to drink, Javi?” you ask him while opening the fridge to get a beer for yourself.

He talks again after feeling overwhelmed by the situation. “Sure, whatever you´re having” with that you pull out another beer for him and after uncapping them, you hand him one. “Thanks” he says, not meeting your eye.

You sit across from him on the kitchen table and take a sip of your own beer. Your mom puts a bowl of Pozole in front of each of you, and while you eat, she and Javier talk about a million things, how things around the house had been since your dad died, how you and her go to Chucho´s every now and then, how you help Chucho everytime the fruit trees need harvesting (which brings a blush to your cheeks when Javi asks if that's right and looks at you), and of course your mom starts to let Javi know about all the gossip he has missed in Laredo, which by his face, he couldn't care less to be honest but i guess your mom didn't want to pick that up. He just nods and hums while eating, while your mom tells him about how the girl from the Gonzalez´s was seen in the local theater every week casually talking and giggling with the guy working there; after a bit something pricks his ears, specifically when your name is mentioned.

“And you wouldn't believe all the commotion that it caused , pff, nos tuvimos que quedar en casa varios días antes de que ella se atreviera a enseñar la cara (we had to stay at home for a few days before she was brave enough to show her face)” she says while picking up both of your bowls to bring to the sink. You don't know where to hide in that moment, you couldn't believe your mom was telling him about that.

“Ma…” you say, trying to make her drop the subject. She obviously doesn't want to catch your desperation.

“What? Sorry i was lost in my head for a moment” he says not realizing that you don't want the subject to be brought up.

“Ay mijo, te estaba diciendo (i was telling you) about how she used to go out with the Lopez´s boy, Diego, and she heard from Doña Lucía about him and a girl, that no one knew, been seen in Jacinto´s ice cream shop, then she decided to confront him that same day, but she instead saw him and the girl on the town square just there,” she makes a dramatic gesture with her hands like she was physically pointing at them right there. “just sitting on a bench, muy acaramelados los muy sinvergüenzas (very lovey-dovey, those scoundrels). Doña Lucía told me that she just took the lemonade in the girl's hand and threw it to him, allí delante de todos, ¿tu te crees, mijo? (in front of everybody, can you believe it, my son?)” she shakes her head in almost disappointment.

“Well, if I'm honest with you Maria. Creo que le hizo poco, yo le hubiese dado un buen puño” you can see how his hands become fists, and his jaw becomes more tense. Javi feels a fire inside of him that he hasn't felt since he left Colombia, he already knows that if he crosses paths with Diego Lopez, he won't be exactly kind towards him.”Wait, he cheated and you had to hide at home?!” he asks, now looking at you.

“I didn't hide, she did” you say pointing towards your mom, who's washing the dishes, with your head. “I was just going through a breakup like a normal person” you shrug your shoulders to try to take some weight off of the conversation.

He nods, understanding now the situation. “Good, you shouldn't feel embarrassed, it's his loss” he huffs “He must be as stupid as he was when he was a kid” he says more to himself than to you, it makes you blush again.

“Javier Jesús Peña!!” your mom scolds him from the sink, turning her head towards him. Javi for a moment feels like a teenager again, being scolded by Maria and his mom for saying a bad word in the kitchen of Pena´s ranch while they make empanadas.

“What? No podes defender al desgraciado, hizo daño a nuestra vampirita (you can't defend that bastard, he hurted our little vampire” he chuckles sincerely now. You gasp at the mention of your old childhood nickname he gave you for being obsessed with the book Dracula when you were 9 years old.

“You don't want to play that game, Peña” you challenge him, squinting your eyes at him, but a little smile in your lips betrays your facade. He laughs with his whole belly now, throwing his head back. You decide right then that you like seeing him laugh sincerely a lot.

After some hours of more delicious food and banter, Javier informs you that he needs to go back to the ranch before his dad comes looking for him for leaving him all day alone with the chores.

You walk him to the door, his arms full of mountains of tupperware full of leftovers that your mom had insisted him to take for himself and Chucho.

You open the door for him since he has his hands occupied, those hands that you´ve been stealing glances to all day, you wonder how rough they would feel around your own hand, around your neck, around your- “Thanks for um… everything” he says interrupting your thread of thoughts.

“Don't mention it” you give him a shy smile, like he could´ve read what you had been thinking. Next thing you know, your mouth is working by it´s own mind, you ask without thinking.”Are you going to the barbecue at Doña Lucia's house this Sunday after church?” when you realize how eager your voice sounds about the prospect of seeing him again in less than two days you add “I believe she invited Chucho the other day, and i'm sure she did it in person with the sole purpose of having you at the barbecue and confirm the rumors of you being fully back home” you chuckle trying to play it cool, god you felt like you were 15 again, drooling for him.

His dad had told him about the gathering but he wasn't planning on going, but now, seeing the slight spark your eyes got when you asked him about his possible attendance, he couldn't think of a better plan for Sunday. “Yeah, my pops told me the other day. I take you´re going too?” you nod with doe eyes and he can't help his eyes for going down to where you tongue tips out of your mouth to wet your lower lip, he gulps and can feel a drop of sweat going down his spine; his mind wondering how you tongue and your lips might feel against his own, against his neck or his chest…

Your mom suddenly yells your name from inside the house. “Dani is calling you, mija!!” you both can hear her voice coming from the living room where the telephone is.

“Dila que voy ma!! (tell her i'll be right there mom!!)” you yell towards her, turning your head over your shoulder, then you turn towards Javi again. You guys keep looking into each other's eyes for what feels like a second and an eternity at the same time until you decide that if you don't stop it, your mom will come over and ruin the moment even more. “I'll see you on Sunday then?”

He nods and then does something that makes you melt into a puddle of water into the ground, he kisses your cheek and with a breathy and deep whisper wishes you a good day to then turn around and walk to his truck on the driveway. You can't help but to stay right there frozen with your heart going way too fast and an almost shocked expression, watching how he puts the leftovers on the passenger side then gets behind the wheel and drives away; it isn´t until your mom calls your name again that you defroze.

Next chapter

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blossomwritesthings · 2 years ago

Note

A fic where Felix helps reader through night paranoia?

I understand if this topic is sensitive or if you're not comfortable writing it, thank you anyway! :)

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol!felix. slight confession au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: mild thematic elements. a shit ton of angst (this includes: mentions of hallucinations at night, being scared of the dark, high amounts of anxiety/panic attacks, sleep paralysis demons, insomnia). reader deals with night paranoia. felix knows how to take care of her at night. pet names (affectionately). cute fluffy moments between reader/felix.

word count: 3.4k

summary: ever since you were a little girl, you've had to battle the shadowy demons away from the edges of your mind each and every night. and you're used to dealing with it at this point. but sometimes, you just need your boyfriend felix to help you through the bone-chilling nights.

a/n: first of all, thanks for requesting this, anon! i've never written something with this kind of topic before and i thoroughly enjoyed it (and no, this topic isn't sensitive for me 😊). actually, while researching for this, i came to the realization that i might actually suffer from night paranoia myself. like, i get all panicky when i'm alone in my room at night and i physically can't feel comfortable/fall asleep unless i check under my bed/all the rooms around me. all of the horror content i've consumed since i was young is probably catching up to me now lol! 😂 hope you enjoy this anon, thanks for requesting~ 💕

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

For most of your life, you’ve suffered from night paranoia.

As a little girl, it started as just small little things late at night. Like how you always needed to check in your closet for ‘monsters,’ and how you wouldn’t feel satisfied until your parents combed the entirety of your room for any bad guys.

Then, in middle school, it grew so that you were afraid of the dark - you physically couldn’t spend a minute in the shadows of the night without feeling panicky, so your parents had taken to instilling a nightlight in your room in hopes that that would help your fears.

And it was in high school that you started to see the faces - swarthy, sinister-looking things that were neither human nor fantastical. Just… unsettling in the highest of forms. They made it so that you were afraid to close your eyes late at night, for you knew what'd you see just behind your vision.

Finally, by the time you started university, the cumulation of all of your childhood fears morphed into that of what the doctors called ‘night paranoia.’

Being diagnosed with such a thing as a young adult was both relieving and terrifying. On one hand, it felt good to finally put a name to the thing that you had been dealing with since you were a little child. But then on the other hand, it was scary to understand all that night paranoia entailed, and realize that your symptoms would probably follow you for the rest of your life.

But mostly, it was just depressing.

To know that there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Wasn’t much you could do to combat all of the sick, scary feelings at night.

You chose not to tell many people about the diagnosis, so no one - except your closest family members - knew about it.

You didn’t want anyone worrying when it wasn’t that big of a deal.

You just made sure that you were never out around the time when you would get sleepy, and that you never stayed the night over at a friend's house.

But then, one day, you met a boy named Lee Felix in your Humanities class at university. He was a year older than you and majoring in Dance Theory, but was taking the Humanities class as an elective. The two of you hit it off instantly, and within no time at all, spent most of your time together.

Things started to turn murky though- when Felix wanted to spend the night over at your place one day. To him, you were acting weird about the whole thing and blowing it way out of portion. But to you- you just wanted to avoid it all, and for him to leave so that you could face the long night alone. By yourself. With no one around to witness everything that you experienced deep in the twilight dream space.

That night ended in a huge argument between the two of you, but eventually, you made up and went back to your old way of things. With you never sleeping in front of him.

So imagine your surprise, when the two of you came back to his place one night and you practically blacked out from all of the alcohol that you had consumed at the club earlier that evening.

In no time at all, the paranoia started. First, it was the racing of your heart, and then when you closed your eyes, the visions skated across your eyesight. You quickly sat up from the living room sofa, frantically beginning your nightly search around the room - the one you always did to try and dissuade your fears.

That’s when Felix walked into the living room, fresh from a shower, and saw you hesitating to open the nearby linen-closet door.

‘Y/N… what’s wrong?’ He had asked in a quiet voice, but you weren’t paying attention to him at that moment.

You were squared off with the wooden door, your heart pounding in your ears as you psyched yourself up to grab the handle and yank it open. Really, it didn’t have to be that difficult. You had the same routine every night, check every single door to make sure nothing - or no one - was lurking behind it. But even still, you always froze up with fear just before you continued with your plan.

Just as you finally managed to muster up the courage and twist on the door handle, you felt a gentle hand land atop one of your shoulders. Fingers squeezed your skin, and the room dived into silence as you held your breath. You didn’t like people touching you when you were in such a state. But oddly enough, for once, you didn’t flinch away from the human contact. If anything, it helped to soothe some of your paranoia.

‘Y/N, angel, what’re you doing?’ It was Felix who was talking. Felix who had a hold on your shoulder. Felix who was gradually bringing you back down to earth, unbeknownst to him.

And all at once, you broke down into tiny, muted sobs. They racked through your entire body, your shoulders shaking with them, your chest constricting with the pain, anxiety rushing through your veins like hot, molten lava. ‘I can’t do it, Lix… I-I just c-can’t.’

Felix was turning you around then, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You buried your face in his shirt, tears staining the thin cotton fabric. At that moment, you felt incredibly ashamed of yourself. You didn’t like the idea of other people knowing your struggles; you had taken much pride in hiding such a weak side of yourself from the people around you for a long time. The shame around the paranoia was thick and confusing and left you in a puddle of tears most nights when you were alone, laying perfectly still in your bed.

You melted into your best friend’s grasp, fingers clutching at the loose sweatpants positioned around his hips. He held you close to him, running his nimble digits through your hair, trying to calm you down by muttering words of assurance in your ear.

‘Shh, it’s okay…’ Felix whispered, only making you cry harder into his chest. The scent of him - of warm, sweet chocolate chip cookies and chai-spiced tea - filled up your entire body with a comforting kind of feeling, helping to slow down your racing heart somewhat. ‘It’s gonna be alright… I’ve got you, baby.’

That immediately stopped the tears from cascading down your cheeks. And all at once, you were yanking your form away from his warmth, staring up at him with bleary eyes and flushed cheeks.

He had never called you that before.

Angel, sure.

But baby?

No.

‘W-What-’ You began, completely at a loss for words as your eyes skated across his face - passing over his messy, dripping black locks, the star-like freckles on his cheeks, and stopping at his perfect, pink, rosebud-like lips.

‘Now, will you let me help and take care of you?’ He questioned, leaning into you slowly, catching your gaze once more. His pupils were dark and filled with so much adoration and concern. And it was all for you. ‘Will you let me love you? Like I’ve always wanted to?”

You swallowed around the ball of anxiety forming in your throat. Because seriously, you must’ve been living in a dream. Lee Felix, asking you if you’d allow him to love you? One of the most popular guys in the entire university, wanting to be yours? Your best friend, seemingly confessing his feelings for you in the most inopportune moment?

It was all so backward and confusing. Nonetheless, you found yourself nodding rather hastily. Like his offer would be off the table if you didn't accept right that instant, ‘Yes… yes, a thousand times yes.’

Then, you had no time to react - as the prettiest boy on campus, as your best friend - gently yanked you close to him and captured your lips up into a yearning, full kiss. Your mouths slotted together perfectly, like the two of you were made to be kissing one another.

After a few beats of silence and feeling nothing but his lips against yours - tasting nothing but his sweet scent on your tongue, the two of you pulled away to catch your breaths.

‘You wanna tell me about what’s going on with you?’ He asked, reaching up and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

And surprisingly, you did. You felt ready to tell someone else - especially your newly-minted boyfriend.

It just felt… right.

‘Yeah- yes, I do.’ You said in a faint voice, words coming out a little wobbly as you looked up into Felix’s eyes and noticed how they were shining with a newfound light of happiness.

A benevolent smile spread across his perfect lips just then, ‘Good, I was hoping you’d say that.’ He gave one of your cheeks a peck, before leading you over to the couch to talk about everything.

And the rest… was history.

Ever since that night in Felix’s apartment, you had been extremely open with him about your night paranoia. So, when the two of you eventually moved into your shared place after having graduated from university, it was a regular occurrence for him to help you through such dreadful experiences.

Over time, you had learned how to manage your emotions and fears. And most nights, they weren’t that bad. You just made sure you didn’t watch anything frightening or thrilling before bed, and a lot of the time, the faces wouldn’t appear. Some nights, you didn’t feel the need to check every room and look under every possible hiding surface.

But then on other nights, you had to go through all of the motions.

Check every nook and cranny in your one-bedroom apartment,

See the visions in your mind whenever you closed your eyes,

And every time you were home alone at night, you had the foreboding feeling that someone - or something - was watching you from the shadows.

That only heightened your paranoia even more, and each time those dark thoughts entered your mind, you’d cling to your boyfriend Felix when he’d arrive home from work. He was a choreographer for a popular entertainment agency in the city, so most nights, he’d come home fairly late. Sometimes, you’d fall asleep before he arrived. But then when things were really bad, you couldn’t drift off even when he had long arrived home.

You noticed how stress greatly brought on the worst of the paranoia. Usually, it originated from your work. Whenever you’d have a short deadline to meet, or a project to finish under a small timeframe, the night terrors heightened greatly.

And that Sunday was one of those nights.

All day, you had been running around doing errands. Getting groceries for the week ahead, tidying up the apartment, taking your and Felix’s tabby cat Pixie to the groomers.

Even still, the anxiety never left you.

You had a big presentation at work that next Monday, one that you had been preparing for all week.

The stress of it all only worsened as you arrived home for the day to an empty apartment. Felix wouldn’t be home until late that night - which was the usual on the weekend.

You went about the motions of cooking yourself dinner, feeding Pixie, and taking your nightly shower. All in the hopes of calming yourself down. You even tried watching your favorite reality tv show, but quickly lost interest in it when your mind wandered to work for the upcoming week.

So once the clock struck eleven at night, you deemed it late enough to turn off the lights. Settling back into bed, tucking yourself under the thick covers, you tried to make yourself comfortable and relax your mind.

But then, the bedroom that was plunged into darkness seemed to come alive right before your eyes- the shadows moving and shifting in the corners, the low hum of the central heating seeming to grow louder with each passing moment.

Feeling the anxiety rise ever so slowly inside of your body, you tried to dissuade your murky thoughts by turning to your side and letting your mind wander over what you’d like to do with your boyfriend in the upcoming week. You both had a day off that Wednesday, and you were planning of hiking to a nearby mountain for your date.

Your musings were interrupted by what looked like a ripple of movement out of the corner of your eye.

Body freezing up completely,

You sat there in utter silence,

Holding your breath,

Heart racing a mile a minute,

As you waited, and watched.

It must’ve been someone.

That movement- it was that of a person.

You had seen the figure of a human just as the thing flashed across your vision.

You should’ve checked all of the rooms in the apartment- even though it killed you to do it, you should’ve. Maybe, if you had, you wouldn’t be feeling so paranoid at that moment.

Breaths coming out in shallow increments, you lay there for what felt like an eternity, having a silent stare-off contest with the unknown being hiding in the shady corner of the room.

It wanted you to turn your back on it,

Wanted you to close your eyes and think you were safe.

But not on your watch-

You weren’t about to let yourself succumb to sleep and-

Just then, you heard the familiar jingle of the front doors keypad ring out across the apartment, momentarily breaking through your frenzy of thoughts. Then, shoes scuffed against the tiled floor, and a heavy bag landed on the ground.

Felix was finally home.

But then, the shadow in the depths of the room seemed to ripple with movement, bringing your mind back to the threat at hand, seemingly forgetting all about the arrival of your boyfriend.

You waited, with bated breath, eyes locked on the corner that was closest to your shared walk-in closet. You kept your focus on the shadowy creature, even when the creak of the bedroom door sounded in your ears.

Saying nothing, you merely continued to lay completely still atop the bed, nestled into the sheets, watching in silence for where the being had gone.

It must’ve slipped into the closet just as Felix entered the room. It was probably waiting for the most opportune moment and then-

“Angel?” Felix’s soft tone broke through the slurry of panic that had taken over your brain. You heard feet quietly hitting the carpeted floor, and then your boyfriend was right before your eyes, crouching down low so that he was at eye level with you. “You alright?”

His gaze raked over your stiff form - he always knew the signs when you were awake, when you were dealing with a particularly bad spell of paranoia. Your entire body would get all tensed up, breathing turning shallow, and you couldn’t focus on anything else until your mind was eased of the panicky thoughts.

“T-There’s someone in the closet, over there,” you said in a low whisper, pointing to the door that you had seen the shadow slip through.

Felix didn’t even flinch at your confession. He just tilted into you, placing a soft kiss atop the crown of your head. “Okay,” he signed against your hair, breath warming a chilly part inside of you. “I’ll go take a look, hmm?”

You watched in silence, as he strode over to the walk-in closet. One part of you wanted to see what was just behind the door. While the other part of you wanted to squeeze your eyes tightly shut in fear of what you would find there.

Heart pounding uncomfortably against your ribcage, you waited in tense silence as your boyfriend carefully opened the door to the closet. Your palms grew sweaty as you clutched onto the bedsheets around you, and for a few seconds, you stopped breathing altogether. As Felix leaned in to turn the light on, throwing the small room into an amiable pool of light.

But there was nothing there.

“See, baby? It’s safe. Nothing to worry about…” Felix began, already moving to turn off the closet light.

You were shooting out of bed in a flash of limbs and blankets. Frantically, you stumbled into the closet, kneeling on the ground and beginning to check every dark corner that lay behind the curtained clothes.

Because no,

No- you had seen something.

Something dark and ominous had loomed in the shadow near the closet,

It must’ve been hiding somewhere in here and it would-

Your hands tore at the clothes, searching, and searching, and searching.

When finally, you felt two familiar arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a toned chest.

“Baby,” Felix said in a deep voice, the sound of it cascading across the shell of your ears and reaching down into you, touching a warm place in your soul. “It’s alright, darling, nothing’s in here.”

“But Lix, I saw-” You whined desperately, hands trying - and failing - to grab ahold of a pile of clothes on the floor and push them away so that you could look behind them.

Felix was turning you around, ripping your focus off of the garments and the shadowy figure and forcing you to hone in on his face. On the way that his eyes were soft with concern, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched in the uneasy moment. The way his midnight-black hair swept across his forehead messily. “You have to trust me, yeah?” He began, reaching towards you and brushing away a loose strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your eyes. “You know that I’d never let anyone hurt you, right?”

Already, you could feel the paranoia slowly leaking out of you. Like a hole poked into a balloon full of water, the anxiety began to trickle out of your system through the tears that suddenly cascaded down either of your cheeks. “Y-Yeah, I know…”

“That I’d never let anyone step even one foot into this apartment without my knowing?”

Your gaze was locked on his loose-fitting black hoodie, which you were clutching in either palm. The two of you sat on the carpeted floor in the walk-in closet, with your breaths beginning to come out slower than before. “I know, Lix.” You suddenly whined out, feeling the way your muscles began to relax at his words.

His presence alone always helped to console you.

But the things he said to you?

The promises he made?

That he’d always keep you safe, no matter what?

Well, those words always sent you down a spiral of softness and love.

A delicate finger fit underneath your chin then, as your boyfriend gradually tilted your head up until your gazes met.

“Okay, good. I just wanna be sure…” His voice trailed off, as his mouth neared yours, and he placed a tentative kiss against your lips. “Now, are you ready to sleep?”

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, as you contemplated his words. You knew that the worst of it had already passed. The hallucinations were always the height of your paranoia. And even though there was a good chance that the anxiety wouldn’t completely leave you that night, you found yourself nodding anyways.

Felix was hoisting you up in the next breath, carrying you bridal-style over to the bed with a fit of giggles erupting out of you at his sudden actions.

He bent over your form, carefully tucking you underneath the thick duvet coverlet, smoothing down some of your hair atop the crown of your head. He stared down at you, a fond smile broadening his mouth on either side.

“I’ll always be here, angel.” He whispered, kissing you sweetly for what felt like the millionth time that night. “I love you so much… just wanna protect you.”

As soon as he pulled away from your mouth, you felt the exhaustion wash over you like a vicious tidal wave. Dealing with such a bad case of paranoia always left you feeling wiped out as soon as it was over with.

A lazy smile cracked on your face, as you stared up at him with the hint of pink gradually creeping up into your cheeks. “I love you too, babe.” You reached out to him, grabbing his free hand that wasn’t playing with your hair and squeezing his fingers slightly.

“Sleep now, darling… I've got you…” Your boyfriend continued to card his digits through your locks, effortlessly lulling you to a dream-like state.

And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes - before the darkness took over the whole of your body - was the tiny, delicate smile that bloomed across Felix’s face; as he watched you in silence, guiding you into dreamland with gentle hands and sweet words.

Fin.

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batteriesandflashlights · 16 days ago

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under cut not because of a trigger or spoilers or anything it's just a bit personal

so here's an experience i don't see people talk about much

getting misdiagnosed with a mental condition. by someone other than yourself. i know self-diagnosis is a point of contention because "what if they're wrong" but that ignores that psychologists and the like can also be wrong lol. less often but yeah they're human like the rest of us. they can make mistakes.

so when i was.... like 9 i think. i was "diagnosed" as autistic. and i just went along with it because i was a kid and all these adults are saying i'm this so yeah. when i was a teenager i actually looked into it and went wait i don't actually relate to this all that much. like yeah i struggle with social situations but it's a result of my anxiety. but my mom still insisted i was definitely autistic and she didn't come around to saying "i don't think you're autistic" until i was 18 or 19.

this isn't me shit-talking diagnosis btw i'm just saying that people in the mental health field aren't 100% accurate 100% of the time. and for the record i'm pro self diagnosis. anyway

so recently i've been having kind of a spike in issues that i sorta always have but got way worse. like i have a constant need to move and i'm having trouble focusing on one task and my mind is going at speeds i can barely keep up with and ahhhhh!!! and i think wait. this sounds like adhd. so i look into it a bit and... eh? still unclear. there's some symptoms i relate to a lot and others that are the exact opposite of me so it's hard to say.

i bring this up now because i found this chart and decided to see how my experiences applied to it and. y'all.

listen. i'm NOT saying anything definitive here. but IF. i had adhd this whole time and it got mistaken for autism. i'm walking into the ocean

#isaac.txt

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alexandraisyes · 29 days ago

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do your ASPD traits ever... go away? like... they go in episodes, so you think 'oh, I must not actually have ASPD!' just to be hit with the worst boredom of your life or something? It seems like I experience the traits this way, and while there are more permanent things it makes me doubt that I actually have ASPD. I'm sure as hell never getting a professional diagnosis because I'll question that, too, and the only difference is that I'll be heavily stigmatized for the rest of my life.💀

When I'm on my period I'm a lot more fucking receptive to normal human function and this is something I am learning very recently since I haven't had periods for the past 6 years until. Recent. And I feel like I'm going fucking INSANE.

I genuinely think the universe is fucking gaslighting me right now,

And like I have full blown extremely diagnosable ASPD, they had me on a fucking list to get diagnosed since I was 14 (but in my state you have to be 18 to get a PD diagnosis and our healthcare was cut just a few months before I turned, and then I moved). SO LIKE I KNOW THE UNIVERSE IS GASLIGHTING ME BECAUSE THIS WAS NOT A THING BEFORE.

So uh no my ASPD traits don't receed or anything, I still am very much unempathetic and traumatized just now for the first time ever you get new and improved unempathetic and traumatized with a dash of sobbing like a little bitch over tiny inconveniences because hormones!

Which I have been doing extensively tonight.

And even though I was set up for a professional diagnosis for years, I didn't know the stigma behind it back then, and I do now. And so I'm not touching that with a 10 foot pole, so I can't blame you there. If you're really curious you can get a therapist for a few years, play the long game, just be completely fucking honest with them, ask them their opinion. Don't take a test. Do not consent to a diagnosis. Just ask for their opinion.

Uhm I've never really questioned if I do or don't have ASPD, and if you're questioning it then you probably don't? (<-This is my opinion.) You can have antisocial traits without having the full blown disorder, just like with any disorder really. It's all symptoms. Everyone has their own unique set of like little brain stamps that's full of experiences and genetics and neurology and shit and so no one person's experiences is the same as everyone else's, but it also means you might have symptoms reminiscent of diagnosable disorders without meeting the full criteria for having the actual disorder.

Psychology is weird like that.

#answered ask #alex answers #thanks for the ask!#aspd #aspd safe #antisocial personality disorder #psychology #cluster b #actually aspd

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blubushie · 9 months ago

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do you tell people irl you have aspd?

Hahahaha. No.

Listen. Most people don't know what the fuck ASPD is. But they do know what a sociopath is—or at least have their own idea of what one is, an idea which is practically always incorrect.

So me having to tell someone I have ASPD has always gone "Hey, I want you to know something about me. We're good mates and I figure you got a right to know. I have ASPD." And they always ask what ASPD is. "Antisocial personality disorder." And if I leave it at that I get dropped, cause people always look it up when they get home and I get dropped for lying by omission and not calling myself a sociopath and thinking I could "get away with hiding what it really is" or something. And if I do explain cuz they don't know what ASPD is, it goes "Aka sociopathy. I'm a sociopath." And then I usually get dropped cuz Things Start Making Sense and people have seen too many horror movies.

Or, y'know, I get fired from a job I really enjoyed cuz they consider me a liability. Cheers, M*lbourne.

So I just. I don't fucken tell people. I've got comorbidities and most of my ASPD symptoms/traits I can brush off on those conditions as traits of them. I have low empathy cuz I'm autistic. I'm aggressive because I have trauma and haven't learnt how to cope with it. I'm impulsive cuz of ADHD, I use aliases because of my job, I'm hypersexual because of the CSA I experienced, I do crime cuz I like money and I'm fucken gay, I don't know. I don't tell people about the conduct disorder I had as a kid preceding my trauma, or that I've used aliases long before I started my job, or that I was medicated for my ADHD and certain traits just never changed regardless of how high the dose was until we puzzled out it was because they just weren't the result of ADHD at all.

(Like run-on sentences. Unfortunately that's just how I talk. What's a semicolon?)

So yeah, I just. Don't fucken tell people. I was diagnosed in early February of 2019 at 18 years old as ASPD nomadic subtype with secondary paranoid traits (there's assumed to be a convergent type between malevolent and nomadic but I don't know the name of it and it's not a confirmed subtype, but there's suspicion that's my ACTUAL subtype if it's real), found out I'm also a psychopath when I went to a therapist in M*lbourne a few weeks, and I just. Don't fucking tell people.

My dad knows. Mum knows. My biological brothers don't, but my adoptive brother does. I've confided in mates from high school and I guess 2 years ain't shit cuz they'd all ghosted me after. I told my ex after we'd been dating 4 months and got an earbashing and she very briefly dumped me for a week to "figure things out". And I didn't talk to her a week, and there's nothing quite like desperately wanting to tell someone you're sorry and not being able to because you know you can be really intense sometimes and there's no way for you to approach someone to apologise without them being afraid. And that's hard—she knew about every symptom I had. It wasn't new. But you slap the label of sociopath on it, and now when she looks at you there's a fear in her eyes what wasn't there before. And she wasn't afraid before, when she thought it was just anxiety or autism or OCD or trauma. But "sociopath" is a scary word.

So no, I don't tell people. I let them get to know me first and learn that despite how weird or creepy or unsettling I can come off as, I'm actually harmless. And then if I feel I can trust them to not be ableist about it or turn on a dime and assume the worst of me—and only then—maybe I'll sit them down and be honest.

#blu whos #aspd

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steinfellds · 2 years ago

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She Isn't Coming Home

Pairing: Mom!WandaNat x Teenager!Reader

Summary: Thanos snapped half your family away five years ago. Five years later, half your family is still missing. Though this time forever.

Warnings: death mentions, depression, cheating, angst with no happy ending, family issues.

1.2K Words

a/n: im changing the plot of endgame a bit cause I cant be fucked to write it all out

/ masterlist / / w.n masterlist /

You were 13 years old when the Avengers lost against Thanos, causing half the universe's population to cease to exist. You still remember the horrible feeling you felt in your gut when you saw the Wakandian guard who was watching over you turn to dust.

At the time, you thought you caused the guard to turn to dust with your recently discovered powers. So you hid in a vent for half an hour until your mother, Natasha, found you.

Only 3 days later, you were told of what happened to the rest of the universe.

You cried for weeks straight about the death of Wanda, and even Natasha shed a couple of tears at the loss of her ex-wife.

Wanda and Natasha had divorced 2 years prior to the blip when Natasha found her cheating on her with Vision.

After the blip, you struggled to return to your normal life as your powers were spiraling out of control, and Natasha was forcing herself to work so she could forget the horrible things that happened.

By the time you were 14 years old, you were diagnosed with depression and were failing half your classes. You would skip school constantly to hang out with your friends and show off your powers.

The first time Natasha found out about this, she was upset and hit you with the "How would Wanda feel about this?" which broke you at the thought of your dead mother's reaction. Though slowly you started to care less and less about Wanda's reaction.

She was dead. She didn't matter anymore.

It was just you and Natasha now.

Your relationship with your mom wasn't bad. Sure, you had your ups and downs but you still loved each other dearly. Sometimes you wouldn't know what you would do if you lost her as well.

"You're telling me there may actually be a way to get everybody back?" You stared at Tony, tears filling your eyes at the hope of everybody's return.

Tony hummed, "There's a possibility of it, yes."

"But don't get your hopes too high, okay? We aren't 100% sure of it." Natasha said to you, a stern look on her face.

You nodded, "It's just crazy that after 5 years, everybody could come back."

"It's been 5 years of hell," Bruce muttered, flicking switches at the control panel in front of him.

Natasha put her hand on your shoulder, making you jump. "Sweetheart, you need to go to bed. It's getting late."

You shook your head with a small laugh, "Mom, I'm not 13 anymore. I'm 18, I make my own decisions."

Natasha raised a brow at you. You have been talking back to her a lot more often than usual.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised, making your mother smile. "Goodnight, everybody!"

It only took a couple of days for Tony and Bruce to figure out how to time travel and retrieve the infinity stones.

"Mom, why won't you let me come with you? Please, I never come on missions with you." You begged, yanking onto Natasha's suit.

"Stop acting like a whiny child, Y/n. I told you that you're staying here and Clint is coming with me."

"But, mom-"

"Y/n, drop it."

You groaned and dramatically threw your body onto Natasha. She pushed you away with a laugh.

"You're a big baby, you know that?"

"You suck." You huffed out, watching your mother walk onto the platform.

"Love you, baby." Natasha sent you a wink.

The Avengers exchanged short conversations before they stepped into the correct positions.

"See you in a minute."

A bright flash of light lit up the platform and everybody disappeared.

It was only a few minutes before everybody started reappearing on the platform, each holding an infinity stone.

"Holy shit, Tony! You actually did it." You cheered, running up to him.

"Did you seriously doubt me?" He asked with a chuckle.

You sheepishly smiled, "Maybe."

A thumping sound made you turn away from Tony. You saw Clint defeatedly sitting on his knees with an infinity stone grasped in his hand, his face stained with tears.

"Clint? W-where's my mom?" You couldn't see your mom anywhere.

"She's...I'm so sorry, Y/n." His voice cracked and he started sobbing.

"Where's my mom, Clint? What the fuck did you do?" Your eyes started to fill with tears.

"I tried to stop her, I promise I tried. Though she's always been better at fighting than me, and- and I couldn't stop her." Clint couldn't even bring himself to look at you, "She's dead. I'm sorry."

All you could do was start to sob. You didn't know what to say or do. You felt fucking horrible. The last thing you ever said to your mother was "You suck." You didn't even tell her how much you loved her, and that tore you apart.

You collapsed into Tony's arms and quietly sobbed into his chest.

The death of Natasha was heavy on everybody's shoulders. Everybody was mainly silent, only talking when needed. Nobody spoke to you or Clint; you both looked like you could break down at any moment.

After many long arguments, it was decided Bruce would snap everybody back into existence. When Bruce snapped, you were almost sure he was going to die. It filled your eyes with tears at the thought of losing another loved one today.

"Did it work?" Rocket asked softly.

A loud sound was heard outside the compound, which caused everybody to run outside. Portals started opening one after the other, revealing the once-dead heroes.

"Y/n? Baby, where are you?" Wanda's voice broke through the loud crowd.

Wanda's eyes widened when she saw you, "Y/n?"

You stared at her, not really feeling anything but sadness. "Hi."

"You're so big! What happened? Why are you suddenly so old?"

"You're going to have to sit down for this." You whispered with a sad smile.

You and Wanda sat cross-legged on your bed. Both of your eyes were filled with tears.

"It's been 5 years since Thanos and Natasha is dead?" Wanda asked for the second time, still not really believing it.

You hummed, picking at the skin of your fingertips.

"That's okay, sweetheart. You still have me."

You looked at her with a confused expression, "Excuse me? What about my mom's death is okay?"

"That's not-"

"No, fuck you, honestly. My mom raised me, you were gone all my teenagehood and now you're saying this shit?" You stood up from the bed and moved away from Wanda.

"Honey, please," Wanda begged, realising she massively messed up.

"Firstly, you ruin this family by cheating on mom with a fucking toaster and now you've gone and ruined whatever family this is." You stared daggers into Wanda's eyes.

"Don't you dare call Vision a toaster."

"Mom died to bring you back! She knew how much I missed and needed you so she killed herself in order to help me." Your voice broke, "I wish you stayed dead."

"You don't mean that." She scoffed.

"Get out of my room. I don't even want to look at your face right now."

"Y/n-"

"Get out!" Your eyes flashed to a blinding white colour.

Wanda quickly scurried out of your room with tears rolling down her cheeks.

You flopped down on your bed and started to cry your eyes out. In the span of a couple of hours, you lost every important thing to you. Your mother was killed and Wanda ruined whatever relationship you were willing to build with her with a couple of words.

You had nobody. You were entirely alone.

And it really, really hurt.

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marbl3-v0rt3x · 1 year ago

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❤️ Nina Headcanons ❤️

She is probably my all time favorite Creepypasta characters and I think about her literally all the time, so I thought that I'd write out some of my headcanons to share ^-^

I'd like to just put a little trigger warning here because my depiction of Nina is a bit more realistic/gritty, and there will be frank talk of death, violence, and mental health issues (OCD, psychosis, and delusions). It's not particularly gorey or cruel, but if that makes you uncomfortable than this post isn't for you.

Anyways, these are just my headcanons and you don't have to agree with any of them. I'm just here to have fun and think about my blorbos :)

-I think Nina was raised by a single mother after her father walked out on the family

-Nina’s father left due to his mental illness and his own delusions that he was suffering (schizoaffective disorder and OCD)

-In my opinion, Nina suffers from Delusional disorder. Specifically suffering heavily from erotomania and grandiose symptoms . I think it’s both induced genetically (from her father, she inherited his OCD) and environmentally (the loss of her friends and the bullying she suffered). Her delusions obviously revolved around Jeff, and caused her to obsessively research him constantly. She felt like if she didn’t keep up with every detail about him that he wouldn’t love her anymore.

-Nina usually researched Jeff’s killing online because she didn’t have access to things like police radio. Usually she trolled websites like 4chan, reddit, liveleak, etc. Anywhere that like- gore and/or internet detectives would lie, she was there. She managed to track him across the country by regularly taking part in message boards and things like that.

-This is all starting at the age of like 13-14. It definitely got worse over the years until she was 16 (which is when her story takes place in my headcanon) when Jeff actually showed up to KILL her because he thought that she was a cop who was close to catching him. When it turned out not to be the case, he decided to pour bleach on her etc as like- a test?

-Of course, this only ended up furthering her delusions and caused her to have a total mental breakdown. Which of course led to her cutting her face and killing her family.

-After that, she packed a bag, took her laptop and pretty much just ran away into the woods to find a place to hideout/research on where Jeff went next.

-For a while she essentially followed Jeff to town after town, trying to show him that she had become just like him. At this point she was fully delusional and in a psychotic state.

-She actually ended up getting a mouth infection because of her cuts, and had to go to a hospital where her psychosis was properly diagnosed. Once the doctors had treated the infection and stitched up her mouth, they called the cops

-However, instead of being sent to jail, she was placed into a psychiatric ward because her attorney made the case for insanity.

-While awaiting a proper trial (she’s 18 at this point in the story) she has a breakthrough and is able to break out of her psychosis. The delusion is harder to break out of, but she does manage to push it down into her mind (which is why she is always conflicted when thinking about Jeff. The delusion is not fully gone, but she keeps trying to push it away and force herself to act “normal”)

-After breaking out of her psychosis, she escapes the mental hospital. Grabbing her shit and literally just bolting, however this time, she wants Jeff’s attention for a different reason.

-Nina essentially goes from town to town breaking into houses and killing people to try and lure Jeff out to her again in order to kill him. But anytime he gets too close (or really anywhere near her) she freaks out and either skips town or goes quiet for a while. She doesn’t really know what would happen if she actually came face to face with Jeff (if she would fall right back in love or kill him on the spot. She’s kind of scared to find out because that would mean her life’s purpose would be completely gone.)

-She can’t escape her obsession with Jeff, and is constantly reminded of her obsession whenever he comes up. She also feels a compulsion to kill due to OCD, and that if she doesn’t kill people he will forget about her entirely. Her OCD also flares up when stabbing people (if she doesn’t stab someone a certain amount of times it won’t be right or it won’t get Jeff’s attention.)

-She doesn’t really kill out of love anymore, and now more or less kills people as bait.

-She is still a very bubbly and vibrant person, and she is extremely extroverted. She enjoys talking to people, especially when she has good days and doesn’t feel the compulsion to kill.

-I think that Nina is obsessed with scene fashion because It reminds her of her childhood and lets her reclaim the parts of her childhood that she feels like she missed out on.

-I headcanon Nina as being half-mexican on her mom’s side, and that she inherited a lot of her mental health issues from her father (who left due to his own delusions that he was suffering.)

#creepypasta #nina the killer #nina hopkins #jeff the killer #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta hcs #alex writes content

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nozomi-kaizoku · 2 months ago

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10/3/2024 (decided to start putting dates on my stuff cause fuck it)

Okay, so I just got back from my manifestation hearing.

I didn't pass, they didn't determine my disability as the cause of what happened (check some of my older posts for context), but for some reason they didn't expel me.

But tbh, they might as well have, because ooh boy did they lose my fucking trust in them, and also my parents trust.

So, my mom brought in some paperwork that had the disorders that I was diagnosed with, and a majority of them are provisional. And during the hearing, they were bringing up my disorders as a possible cause of what happened.

Here's where things start to get really fucked up.

Not only did they refuse to acknowledge the provisional diagnoses, but when my mom tried to mention them to the people at the meeting, they immediately shut her down. And also, they acknowledged the trauma I had to deal with, but refused to connect that to what happened, basically their way of saying that my trauma doesn't affect me. They only acknowledged the autism and ADHD, even though neither of those disorders had any relation to what happened.

AND IT GETS WORSE.

They also mentioned a comment I made to my special education teacher during a split, and how by coincidence the new paraprofessional* had won my trust and therefore I liked her more, and it's made me realize something:

*I've now remember that Mr. Gonzales was a paraprofessional and not a teacher so I apologize for that.

That sped teacher was probably so jealous that she lost my trust and I turned towards that new paraprofessional instead of her, that she's wanting to try and get me expelled so I can "feel the same pain she did" (i'll get into that later), and that was why she agreed when everyone said that what happened wasn't because of my disability and it was because I wanted to get out of school (their words not mine).

All because she ignored me when I asked for help on an assignment about a month or two ago.

Okay, so setting aside the obvious fact that they probably violated an ADA law by flat out ignoring the diagnosed disorders I had, the fact that my school hated me this bad over ONE threat that's probably never gonna happen again, genuinely upsets me.

I don't give a fuck what their "pOLiciES" are, but you do not pretend to care about me and then throw me away when my mental health gets so bad to the point I develop homicidal ideation.

AND IT WASN'T EVEN A FLAT OUT THREAT EITHER, I literally just told my therapist "hey, I'm having homicidal thoughts and need to address it before something happens.", and because I pulled out scissors so that I could remove a potential weapon, they took it as a threat and are punishing me for trying to avoid a genuinely serious situation.

Also, what was going on in their mind when they didn't even acknowledge the provisional diagnoses when the mentions of my disabilities came up?? They KNEW I have bpd and they KNEW it affected my perception of relationships, yet for some reason they only acknowledged the autism and ADHD because they believe that my other disorders aren't real because of the provisional label (and I can't a full BPD diagnosis until I'm 18 cause of the laws where I live but that doesn't mean it's not there).

And the fact that the fucking sped teacher literally let HER emotions about me influence her fucking job as a teacher genuinely baffles me.

If a teacher lets their emotions get in the way of their job and therefore risk the wellbeing of their students, they shouldn't even BE a teacher in the first fucking place.

Honestly idk what else to say anymore...

Fuck Colorado Early Colleges, fuck Mrs. McGregor, and her dumbass kid too. They're all pieces of shit for doing this to me, and they deserve whatever happens to them. I pray for their downfall as much as I pray for Widefield's downfall.

I'm definitely showing this to my therapist next monday, and let's just say my parents aren't having me go back to that school anymore after all this.

#bpd #bpd vent #actually bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd problems #bpd stuff #bpd blog #actually borderline #actually mentally ill #vent #tw homicidal ideation #homicidal threats #homicidal ideation #actually homicidal #homicidal thoughts #fuck school #school system #nozomi vents

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altheterrible · 1 year ago

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Vindicated (I'm not selfish, I'm not wrong)

I’m not sure how long I’ve been dealing with right shoulder pain and instability, but I remember it was already a known, old issue when I started working at the museum in September 2022. So let’s say it’s been 18 months. It’s probably been longer, but my memory is shit.

When I first mentioned it to a doctor in late summer 2022, she told me to take up weightlifting to strengthen my rotator cuff and help with weight loss (a problem for which I was not seeking advice). She did not offer specific advice to help me do that, and then shortly thereafter, she left for a different practice out west. I got switched to a different doctor, who failed to send a referral to PT for three months despite several reminders. When she transferred to another office in December 2022, I was blessedly assigned to my current doctor, who both listens to me and sends referrals and prescriptions out in a prompt manner. He had me in PT by the end of January.

I worked on my shoulder in PT until mid-April, when insurance refused to pay for more sessions, citing that my condition was stable. This was true, I did hit a plateau in my progress then--but my arm still hurt constantly, I could still feel what felt like bones shifting around when I moved, my range of motion was bad, and my shoulder would still “slip out” and lock up a few times a day, leaving me unable to lift my arm higher than my chest. Still, insurance said if I wanted more PT, I needed to see an orthopedic specialist and get a diagnosis that would qualify me for more sessions.

Seeing an ortho took a few weeks. I eventually got into a community orthopedics clinic at the end of May. The doctor I saw there was hyper focused on my weight and my self-harm scars, which he mentioned several times AND wrote about in my chart. He diagnosed me with “too fat and out of shape to lift her own arm,” essentially. He said all I needed was to keep doing the home exercises I’d been given in PT to strengthen my rotator cuff and soon I’d be all better. He said I didn’t need more imaging.

So I did those fucking exercises all summer. And yet, nothing improved. In fact, the pain and instability increased. It felt like my shoulder was becoming dislocated upwards of 20 times a day, leaving me unable to move my arm without severe pain. Whenever it happened, I’d have to physically push on my collar bone to get my arm working again. All summer and into the fall I muttered “my insurance company says I’m fine” every time I had to fix my shoulder, take OTC painkillers (that I’m not supposed to use because of my kidney function), or couldn’t sleep because of pain.

My insurance company’s treatment plan didn’t work out, surprisingly. I repeatedly found myself in tears due to the pain that simple motions cause me. My shoulder ached at a constant 4-5 on the pain scale, and the pain radiated into my collar bone, my top rib, and down to my wrist. If I moved my arm wrong, I’d drop what I was holding. I started walking around just constantly shaking my arm trying to get the joint to settle in a less painful way. There was no less painful way.

My primary doctor finally took pity on me in September and ordered the MRI that the ortho didn’t think I needed. It took 3 months to get an appointment. Three more months of grinding pain, tears caused by simple motions, and frustration at my useless body. Three more months of telling myself to toughen up and stop being a baby. Three more months of people rolling their eyes because I was being so dramatic about “a little joint pain.”

Well, I finally got in for my scan Wednesday. The results posted Thursday morning.

The MRI that ortho did not think I needed showed the following:

Superior tear of the right shoulder labrum.

Posterior tear of the right shoulder labrum.

Anterior tear of the right shoulder labrum.

AC joint degeneration.

Fluid in the AC joint.

Tendinopathy in 2 tendons of the rotator cuff.

The labrum is what keeps the shoulder joint stable. Mine is torn in 3 places. Which means, all these months I’ve been saying, “It feels like my shoulder is dislocating constantly and the bones are grinding together”, they WERE. That is EXACTLY what has been happening. The bones that make up my shoulder joint are so loosely connected that they are slipping all over the place, causing injury to nearby muscles, tendons, and ligaments.

For 18 months. At least.

I now have an urgent appointment scheduled with an orthopedic surgeon, because I might need surgery. Physical activity is a no-go until I’ve been evaluated and cleared for PT, and PT has to be done incredibly carefully if I can even do it.

I’ve been actively trying to get this taken care of for a year, during which I’ve been in constant, grinding pain, sleep deprived due to being woken up all night by pain, and damaging my kidneys by taking the forbidden NSAIDs. I’ve made changes to my wardrobe--I wear front close bras only, now. I’ve changed how I sleep--used to sleep on the right side, now it's the left side only.

And all of this could have been avoided if someone had taken me seriously last September.

Which is infuriating.

But also. The VINDICATION I feel.

I want to rub my MRI in the face of every person who rolled their eyes at me for “whining about a little joint pain.” I want to staple it to the forehead of the doctors who told me I just needed to lose weight. I want to put in on my refrigerator and point to it every time my sister implies I’m being dramatic or lying when I say I can’t do something, like put dishes on the top shelf or carry a heavy box.

Fuck all of them. Fuck every person who told me “just take some Aleve and get over it, it’s just joint pain, welcome to getting older.” Fuck every person who expected 100% from me on days my arm bones were grinding together and I had pain radiating to my wrist and my sternum.

Including me! Fuck me and my stupid need to persevere! I’ve pushed myself so hard the last year, because “I’m not going to let a little pain stop me!” even though “a little pain” sometimes had me crying and stopping would have prevented that. Yeah, I was failed by a lot of doctors, but I think it’s also partly my own fault that the damage is as bad as it is--I should have set more boundaries and had the backbone to listen to what my body was saying instead of people pleasing and trying not to make waves.

Fuck grinning and bearing it. Fuck putting up with pain because it’s easier for everyone else. Fuck doubting myself and taking the word of doctors over my own lived experiences. Doctors know medicine. I know how much this pain is affecting me. If we worked together, imagine what we could accomplish!

Yeah.

On a different note, I have more pictures of the inside of me.

Gross.

#whining #chronic illness #chronic pain #spoonie

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rin-and-jade · 1 year ago

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hey I'm from the same system as 🌺, and I wanna add some stuff because unlike her I'm not blind to the abuse.

we are homeschooled so when the verbal abuse happened there wasn't anywhere else to escape to, I remember I used to literally hide behind things when I was younger.

I didn't learn to read until I was 10, and I'm dyslexic and autistic and dyspraxic and dyscalculic. so I absolutely suffered in academics for basically my whole life, my mother used to sit down with me and watch me stare at the work in front of my face and then yell at me because I didn't do it. or I messed up, or any slew of things fuck.

I was undiagnosed for autism for literally most of my life, I only got diagnosed when I was 13-14. so for a long long part of my childhood I was berated, yelled at, given the silent treatment, not comforted when I needed it and other stuff.

this is definitely because of her upbringing, and generational trauma. she's better now, but the damage has been done. and if I ever tried to bring this shit up now she'd just call me a liar, she loves to call me a liar.

after I learned how to read, I basically had to learn how to spell and write myself. I preferred it that way, because every time she try's to teach me stuff it always ended with me crying and her yelling.

oh I didn't even mention all the "talks" she has given me, basically telling me to "shape up, you're not doing anything with your life." when I have no freedoms? the digiverse is my only freedom, has been since I was a kid. I try to talk to her about my interests and she waves me away, though its gotten better. I still am not sure about her claims.

I literally can't go out by myself, I'm 17. I'm literally going to be 18 in a couple months and I've to this day never been on a trip somewhere on my own, I know I'm a bit oblivious at times. but I've always wanted that in my life.

maybe I'll get it now when I go to Tafe in person, and meet people. god I fucking hope.

I went through a lot of medical trauma from being hospitalised as a 6 month old because hot tea spilled on me, to asthma hospitalisations and more.

all under the age of 10 mind you, I've always been the "problem" child. mostly because of all my medical issues, and developmental issues. my addiction to YouTube, and screens in general. is it an addiction when it's literally the only thing that stops me from bursting into tears?

I didn't have friends for most of my life, and the ones I did. I only saw them at most once a week, most of the time it was once or twice a month until they grew tired of me.

I've had nice things, but all I really wanted was someone to listen to me. I used to literally wish everyday for most of my life, its only stopped now because I have AN ACTUAL FRIEND. and I'd kill everyone and then myself for him literally. (I'm referencing a meme)

but I was lonely most of my life, I love my siblings but its just not the same. I couldn't share my thoughts and feelings because they'd just tell mother.

once I had a friend group on this game, Cat game (that's literally what they are called.) and I was happy. a bit stressed because of drama, but it was nice to have someone who listened and cared.

I'm tempted to go back, but I just can't risk it. my family thought they were groomers, those people were more likely to be groomed then be groomers. I'm not dumb, I still feel bad for my abrupt departure.

but at least they know I loved them dearly, if like I mentioned any of my moots. or the fact I talk so outwardly on the internet they'd ban me actually ban me forever. and I can't let go of my one healthy coping mechanism.

I don't think I could ever tell them shit about my mental state, especially after the shit show that was lena trying to get us actual help. I still want to go to therapy and a psychiatrist, but I'm worried I'm just going to be abused verbally and emotionally more.

and right now, it's way less.

if they knew I considered myself trans, or supported nonbinary people or just most of the different gender identities. they'd tell me I'm wrong and they would have seen it, or that nonbinary people are doing it for attention.

why the fuck would I do any of this shit for that? I want your unconditional love, and support for my struggles. not that fake bullshit!

I have problems and I just want to help them, and nothing I do is good enough. I'm this disappointment half the time.

there was this one time. (maybe more) when my little brother was having a meltdown, and screaming. my mother's blood was boiling honestly, and she was yelling at him to "SHUT UP" "STOP CRYING FOR FUCKS SAKE" and such. she threatened to pull over and leave him on the road, a common threat of her's. and when his screams and cries got louder, she pulled over into this parks parking. and told him either he was to "SHUT UP, OR GET OUT." he didn't and he got out of the car, or was taken. either way he was outside of the car, I was crying and telling my mother to "STOP" and let him back in, I was 7-8 when this happened. and he must have been 3-4, and my little brother was crying and crying. and my mother had enough of the insubordination, and started to drive away. I started screaming then to go back for my brother, *I'm not sure which one it was, but it was one of them. and she kept driving, and driving.

I think she circled the block twice before letting my brother back in, but that was traumatic.

this sorta thing was why when I had my first suidal thought it was to open the car door and fall out, because I couldn't TAKE the verbal abuse that happened in the car.

I had depression I think, I had depression for most of my childhood.

but now, I feel happier. not because of anything that's happened in the real life, but the comfort I got from here. the internet.

there's many many more times I could talk about but I'm tired, I'll tell you more later.

but she's not good, I don't know if she's ever realised. but I just cannot be mad.

from me

Pop

That sure was a long story, read it word by word, i definitely relate to the bad treatment and threats i also got from my own mother. Kind of glad you’re still here and had got better, i witnessed a kid being pulled outside the car and even punched.. not lovely.

Anyway, i care to listen in what you have to say next time, i consider myself a great listener if anyone needs to vent too and whatnot,, and come back next time bro.

- j

#did #actually did #did community #did system #did osdd #dissociative identity disorder #janswersask

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pardon-my-scifi · 1 year ago

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Gods. I was Percy. I was just diagnosed with ADHD in 2005 when the first book came out. Everyone was telling me I can't use it as a crutch and I need to do better, while not giving me the tools to do better. And not to mention the undiagnosed Autism. (That wouldn't be discovered until college.) My teachers ignored me and saw me as a lost cause, I was bullied and had no friends. I had an abusive step parent. My dad was MIA most of the time. My mom worked herself to the bone and we were always a missed paycheck away from sleeping in the car. Then my 4th grade teacher read us Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief (again, in 2005). It was the original cover. I remember looking at the monsters coming out of the lightening bolt and thinking "Maybe I'm a demigod. I could fight those." I asked the teacher where I could get the next book and was heart broken when I discovered there wasn't one yet. A few years later, my mom surprised me with the first and second book. I then carried that book with me for a decade. Read it at least once a year. Usually more. I had it with me every time I had to be near my step mother. Carried it with me through all my initial Turner Syndrome doctor visits. My first year of college when my mental health was complete shit. I still keep it by my bed. I still read it at least once a year. Even 18 years later. Watching these episodes felt like coming home. Percy was my first real friend and was the first voice I heard that said I was more than a weird brain or a lost cause. So, thank you, Uncle Rick. For Percy, for the books, for the tv show, for everything. And Haley. For hearing the story first.

#percy jackson #percy jackson tv show #sorry about the sap #emotions are high #I just love this series so much

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insomanic-fanfication · 2 years ago

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Wanting to be honest

Under this line, I'm talking about an in-depth problem I have, maybe in hopes of people feeling like they aren't alone or to remind me that I'm not alone in this struggle. Especially since I always try to find support groups or someone to talk about them with. They are FOR the Eating disorder instead of trying to help.

If you are not ready to have this conversation with yourself or are not in the right headspace for this topic, Just enjoy the Cat gif and move on with your day. This also includes my mutuals; just because you love reading my post doesn't mean you have to read this one. I will not be mad over upset if you skip this one.

I want you all to know that you are all loved and deserve a great day.

CW: Child neglect, Growing up poor, Growing up in a hoarder's home, Old America parenting, Religious abuse, Generational trauma, Eating Disorders, Child Abuse, late diagnosed Autism, C-PTSD, Depression. At this point, it's labeled as Dead Dove Do Not Eat- IRL. I despise sugarcoating things, so here is me telling my story without having my coward of a family shaming me for making them look bad. Just because some of them have changed does not magically fix the pain I suffered and still heal.

We'll take mental breaks at multiple points within this post and give you links to Emergency numbers.

The first one:

youtube

Section One: Before I was born

In a small town in Texas, USA. My Mom (age 16) was dating a man (age 18) and got pregnant due to a lack of sex education. Upon finding this out, my Mom's parents (Stepfather and Mother) forced her to have me and marry that man. So she and the child (me) wouldn't go to hell (Be the talk of the Church).

Throughout her pregnancy, the man we'll call SD (Sperm donor) locked my mother in their bedroom closet, only allowing her to eat bread and water. As well as rape and abuse her. Her parents (My grandparents) knew this was happening and did nothing because "it's not rape if you're dating or married." At some point during her pregnancy, my mother was pushed down a flight of stairs by SD.

The day I was born, I wasn't the only one. I had a stillborn twin; she was fully formed. Meaning, for a good while, I was holding hands and sharing womb space with a corpse.

Section Two: After I was born

Once I was born. My mom's parents never taught her how to raise me; instead, when something needed to be done, they grabbed me and shamed my mom for not knowing how to be a good mother. Basically, using me as their version of baby-trapping my mother to stay in contact with them. So they could have free labor to be as lazy as they pleased and have their own maid to keep their house clean.

I have no idea when these things happened, so I will mention them in this paragraph. SD sexually assaulted me while changing my diaper; Mom and he divorced, and my mom was kicked out of their apartment. Cutting to the only necessary information from up until age 12, I was being bounced around different family homes; while I lived with my grandparents, I could only really eat a few things; most of the time, they were either moldy or expired. Also, I was beaten and screamed at with a belt when I misbehaved, most days hearing them screaming and hitting each other. I also would be forced to sleep on a pissed and shit-on mattress, sometimes while it was still wet. Had to climb over piles of trash and junk that my mammaw hoarded. Along with being forced to clean the whole house by age 4. Doing the clothes and dishes, cooking, taking care of the animals, getting my grandpa ready, and waking up at 02:00 (Yes, even on school nights) to make lunches for my grandpaw.

While I lived at my Nanny's (Great Grandmaw), I did have great food and a living area. However, all I was used for by her was a grieving process; I was the replacement for her husband dying.

While living with my mom and who she was dating then (My 1st Step parent before she transitioned), she tried her best to be at least somewhat of a stable human being and mother. However, she could never afford therapy and couldn't entirely cut contact with her parents.

When she was married to my 2nd Step parent, my Step Dad, they had my living brother when I was in 2nd grade. All throughout my childhood, after that, my little brother came first, and what was left went to me.

Though during my childhood, I was constantly yelled at when I acted like a child and was called a selfish brat by many family members when my 5-year-old wanted attention. Because I didn't fucking know anything about ALS or death. I just knew my Papaw, an Airforce pilot, wasn't feeling okay. Until then, my lil brain had only seen him cry when I told him, "Welcome Home!" and honestly believed nothing could kill him.

Mental Health Break! ----

youtube

The context is done, So I will be talking about my Eating disorder and current eating problems. You can choose to click off now or continue reading when you are done with the video.

Now, the present problem I'm dealing with is trauma around food in general, but also possibly a binge eating disorder.

The cycle starts with eating a normal amount, then slowly eating less and less due to something wrong happening in the household. My mom screaming about something she couldn't find or the kitchen not being clean. Then, I start becoming replused by everything in the kitchen. Only seeing expired food. So I spent more and more time in my room. Until I realize I haven't eaten in 3 days.

I have a panic attack, thinking I will die, then eat. Then, I can't stop eating; I feel guilty if food is left on my plate because I feel like I'm being ungrateful for not eating everything. My brain refuses me to turn down the food people offer me. This will go on, until I vomit because my body can't handle everything, then I start eating again, Right after.

Then, I'll panic about becoming obese (my grandparents were), then the cycle repeats itself..

is there a happy end to this? No, the only good thing, is that we live in AZ now, and my grandparents have no way of talking to me.

#Youtube #eating disoder recovery #ed vent #truama dumping #Dead Dove Do Not Eat - IRL #Dead dove do no eat #childhood truama

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homiro · 1 month ago

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Medical Emergency

The only vetting this has is my own word.

Begging is always embarrassing and I hate to be doing it again. I need around 100 euros. That's it. I won't ask for any safety net extra amount.

I'm a mentally ill, adhd, autistic (diagnosed), intersex, trans person from the Mediterranean. I have lived my whole life in poverty, enduring abuse, and a bunch of things I really didn't want to get into, but include being exposed to criminal acts and forced to commit criminal acts, too, and SA. I live with CPTSD and can't find a job and only do sporadic freelance gigs that pay very little. And I had one that I submitted in June and have not been paid for yet.

I need money to go therapy, medication, and to pursue my education, which is the only thing I have, really. I never had the luxury of having dreams of anything and only found light in pursuing academic achievements. Before I started my degree, I spent my life until I was 18 thinking I would spontaneously die when I turned 18 because I couldn't stand being alive and that helped me have peace of mind. Since that obviously didn't happen, my mental health started rapidly getting worse and shit along the way made it even worse.

I asked for help yesterday sort of but maybe because my ugly face was attached to it nobody cared. I'm just in a bad mental space and asked for support in the stupidest way possible. I really need just around 100 euros, or I will be unable to get my prescription refilled and go to therapy. It is that expensive. Check the price tag on Ritalin. And I take more shit, including Risperidone. And not only that, the session is in another city and I have to take public transportation to go there and that's another 10 euros, plus the ride fare to go there because it's in a remote, well, mental health asylum, that is far from the city centre and there are no buses that go there because then it would be too easy for patients to escape. I was referred to that place because my mental illnesses are really not just a little bit of anxiety and distraction. I'm not even counting food money here. I have an ed and the wild anxiety I've been in in the past week thinking about this session has made me almost unable to eat. Especially because I also have had to forcibly taper off the anxiety medication to have some and avoid, well, dying. As much as I'm suicidal, I can't die because of my family and the friends who still care about me for some reason.

I'm really nothing but a burden, but well, for the sake of my family, especially my brother who would be destroyed if I did something irreversible, consider helping me if you can. I guess I have no choice but to say it how it is even if it sounds like a shitty sob story told a million times.

I'm scared shitless of going to that asylum, which doesn't help, but I don't have money for private therapy so I need to subject myself to this shit in order to stay alive. And I am a translator and proofreader. But freelance. I haven't seen a cent for my work since June. I translated a whole book and am translating another with nothing but the public library and a PC that takes over an hour to book and over half an hour to open MSWord. I know this isn't the right therapy for me because I'm so scared of this asylum (there are horror stories and the place is located on top of a mountain) and can't trust the therapist fully, but I need to go there or I won't get my prescriptions and well, I am in danger, but I can't tell that to the shrink, or I'll be immediately made to stay there and last time I was there I was already scared and feeling this intense awful energy in those hallways and even around it. I was fucking crying even before I stepped inside. But again, I have no choice and I need this money by tomorrow so that I can have it available to use on Wednesday. It needs to be paypal because stripe takes one week or something to let you use the money.

Coffee is /silverfurioso. There's more info on my carrd.

Please, if you can, I'm begging. I need my medication and I'm a fucking broke loser who can't find a stable job. All I get are small gigs here and there but that doesn't even cover half the meds I need and it's so sporadic, I can only pay for half of it every other month. I've locked my inboxes because last time I asked for help and advertised my services, I got spam and a scamming attempt from someone who wanted to pay with a check and could only "help USAmericans". Which I obviously am not. And that was the stupidest fucking scam attempt I've ever seen.

And I know that some people need money more than me and understand if this lands nowhere. I am aware that I have no voice and no platform and nobody in my corner to speak up and have support if I get in trouble for opinions. But I need to try anyway.

Thanks in advance and if you can't help, thanks if you read this.

#homiro said some shit #emergency #queer #trans #support request #medical emergency #negative #abuse mention #mental illness #suicide mention

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