#Sorry y’all but I needed someplace to rant

[therichantsim]

I hate that we don’t own anything anymore. Everything is a subscription, even fucking printer ink! I also hate how much we’re being surveilled. All these apps, smart devices, smart appliances and electronics mine our data and sell our data etc. We are slowly having our privacy stripped away. Every new update comes with automatic opt in as the default option and sometimes the only option. Every human thing we do is used to feed and program generative AI. All of this while we’re being sold and feed food that isn’t safe, over medicated but under funded for healthcare. Under a government system that no longer even pretends to care about its citizens. Yet they tell us we have a choice/democracy but our only options are all bad options. All of this while our government and it’s war machine exploits and kills innocent people in other countries.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 10: Myofascial Release

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy decompress after an emotional evening, Shane finds it difficult to get out of her own head and live in the moment, but Sy knows exactly how to help her, and not to be a complete hoe and spoil things, but…things get steamier than ever between our favorite therapist and patient duo.

Oh snap! You’re behind! Get on track here!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, the smut you’ve all been waiting for so patiently! (I hope it lives up to your undoubtedly high expectations!)

Author’s Note: Oh gosh, y’all, I am so nervous to post this. Somehow it doesn’t feel like my smuttiest smut. And like, all previous chapters have been kind of leading up to this moment. The good news is, I’ve decided to continue writing this story after the sex. I’ve got some ideas about where to go from here, and I want to keep it going. Plus, it feels wrong to write all of this and then just drop them without a big picture resolution. They’re gonna go through some shit, though. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@thisismysecretthirstblog

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Her living room was cast in the low light of the floor lamp she had left on. Intending to come home after dark. Alone. She hated walking into a dark house by herself.

Well, tonight, she wasn’t alone. And although Sy had been to her house before, this was different. They were officially a couple, and they were no longer waiting to express, to the fullest extent, their true affection for one another.

Ever the hostess, despite her nervous tension, Shane asked Sy if he wanted anything to drink, rambling off several options somewhat awkwardly.

“I’m fine, darlin.’” He assured her, stopping her at some point in the rant, before she was completely done. “Do you need something?”

“Umm, I think I should have a glass of wine.” Her eyes darted to the kitchen across her serve-through counter space and landed on her fridge. “I’m…I’m really nervous.”

"Why don't we watch a little TV for a while? You get you some wine, and I'll put somethin' on. What are we watchin', sunshine?"

"Ummmm, something light? Funny? Something I've seen." She wouldn't be able to process anything new or heavy right now.

"I'm on it." he kissed the top of her head and left her side for the sofa, where he plopped himself down like a comfy hound dog, and picked up the remote to her Smart TV.

She smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen. She decided she wanted a snack with her wine. She got a plate of cheese and crackers together first. Then she remembered she had some venison sausage one of her coworkers had brought in, and put that on the plate, too. She got out a chilled bottle of her favorite, cheap moscato and a stemless glass. She couldn't go in there without something for Sy, so she also got a glass of ice water ready for him. She put the whole spread on her big serving tray and took it to the living room.

Sy was already halfway through the first episode of Parks and Recreation.

"I saw this in your 'Watch it again' group, and thought maybe you'd like to re-watch it. I've heard you talk about it a lot, and I've never seen it." He didn't complain at her for taking forever. He just lit up when he saw her. Like it was the first time. And not the hundredth.

"That's perfect, babe. I brought some snacks out, too. Some cheese and crackers, and this really good sausage one of my coworkers brought me. You like deer?" she asked.

"One of my favorite pet names." he teased. "I do, though, yes."

They ate, and laughed, and watched about four or five episodes, it was hard to keep track. But after approximately half the bottle, Shane had summoned some courage. She started playing at the texture of Sy's jeans, running a fingernail across the coarse fabric.

"Hang on, love bug. I want to know somethin.'" she looked up at him, mildly confused. "I'm trying to think of a reason you need to get tipsy to sleep with me that I shouldn't take personally." he rubbed her upper arm, comforting her as no one had done since she was a small child. At least not that she could remember.

"No, Sy. It's not like that. You aren't the problem at all!" she paused. He let her gather her thoughts. She appreciated that he knew she intended to continue and that he didn't rush her to do it. He was patient. And kind. And all of that should have made this whole night easier. But somehow it didn’t.

“I’m the problem." She confessed after a long pause and a deep sigh. "I mean, I’m in my head about it all, I know. But it’s been…almost six years since I’ve slept with anyone, five and a half, at least, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it now that I know it’s going to happen again.”

He pulled her body into his, squeezing her tightly for one of his soul cleansing hugs.

“Sunshine. Everything will come back to ya. We’ll just go as slow as ya want. I got all night.”

“Okay. Well, I guess, since I’m a bit sleepy from the wine, we should head to bed.”

Sy affirmed the idea, and made to help her put their snacks away in the kitchen.

She got out containers for their leftover food while Sy stoppered the wine, put it in the fridge, and washed their glasses.

She felt his warmth before she felt his touch. He stood behind her, radiating his particular brand of heat for a moment, and taking in the scent of her hair near her right ear. She heard a low rumble from someplace deep in him which slowed her efforts at the counter. His hands were light but very much present on her hips. A whisper against the fabric of the casual but feminine floral dress she’d chosen for the night. But she felt it like the weight of her favorite old blanket, heavy with years and warm comfort.

He kissed her temple, chaste and unassuming. But still full of desperation. She could tell that he was ready. Even without the alignment of their bodies completely giving him away.

“Don’tcha think this stuff can wait a couple hours, darlin'?"

His baritone, breathless in her ear, was soothing her back into the mindset of being with him. His feather touch still lingering at her hips and waist. She thought back to those seminars she'd gone to on manual therapy where the speaker talked in depth about the fascial tissues running all across the various muscles in the human body and how trauma to one part could cause tension in another like a snag in a sweater and how he taught the participants techniques to undo that trauma through myofascial release. Sy was slowly managing to unwind and unbind the taut fibers of her heart and relieve that pain that Elliott, in particular had set into place so firmly when he'd hurt her. Lied to her. Cheated on her. Gaslit her. Made her feel like she'd never be loved if she left him. Made her question the very idea of what love meant. Because if what they'd had was truly love, she didn't want it. Wanted no part of the games or the abuse or the manipulation.

Without fully realizing it, during this time of reflection and healing, Shane had given up the task at her hands and turned to Sy, open to his treatment, as he'd always been so open to hers…or mostly. And she let him kiss her, reciprocating. And hold her, returning his enveloping embrace. She even let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, resting them on his…all too well-defined bilateral gluteus maximus that she'd had to pretend to ignore for weeks. In the therapist side of her brain, alarm bells were going off. "His knee isn't fully healed! You're gonna undo all of the work you've both done so far! He's gonna hurt himself carrying you around!" but she ignored them and trusted him as he walked to her room.

Shane wanted to say that her bedroom was one of splendor. Immaculately made bed, and overall, the picture of tidiness. The reality was much, MUCH different. Glasses half full of water were everywhere (she may be forgetful, but at least she was optimistic), at least one coffee mug sat on the nightstand from the previous weekend when she took a morning cup of tea in bed with her George Harrison biography. Laundry overflowed from a sorting hamper in the corner, and her bed sat, unmade, littered with crumpled pillows, sheets, blankets, and the pajamas she'd slept in last night. She wasn't the kind of person to make her bed for reasons other than having company over, like the fancy company you had to give a tour of your whole house. She'd tried to be that person numerous times, but it never seemed to stick.

Tonight, though, the guilt that came with sub-par housekeeping skills wasn't plaguing her. Right now, all she felt was the weightlessness of being with Sy, wrapped in him, kissing him, and fully ready for what was about to happen between them, as he fell with her onto her bed. Their heads clunked together awkwardly, invoking a mutual wince, followed by bouts of laughter and playful kisses.

He hovered over her a moment, just taking her in. His fingers ghosting her forehead and cheeks to clear it of the whisps of hair obscuring her face. He seemed to examine her in methodical quadrants. Learning the curves and colors and every wrinkle, freckle, and pore. She was still fully clothed, but she'd never felt so bare and vulnerable.

He left her eyes for last. His gaze drowning her delightfully. Random song lyrics came to mind, "the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake" and she thought yes. That is the precise aesthetic of this man's stare. His expression was inscrutable. She wanted to say he looked happy and content, but she didn't want to presume.

He began tracing the floral pattern on her dress with his fingers, and said, "I really like this dress on you."

She laughed, "Oh, that's the beginning of the oldest line in the book. You know you've already got me in bed, right?"

"No, I…" he chuckled, embarrased. "I mean it sincerely. Seeing you in flowers like this…makes me think they bloom right from ya."

She propped herself up on her elbows, dumbstruck by this uncharacteristically poetic side of him she'd just been shown. She stroked the side of his face.

"The man who came up with the original pickup line is rolling over in his grave attempting to kick himself for not thinking of something so beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"HELL yeah. He would have gotten WAY more lucky with a statement like that."

"You're probably right." he said, pulling her up to hold her in his arms.

"If for no other reason that it would have landed him a higher caliber woman than the floozies that he probably got."

He moaned his ascent against her neck, and continued, "Which would have meant a lot more getting lucky down the road, right?"

"Traditionally speaking, I'd say yes." she laughed, her fingers in his hair, which was barely long enough for the action.

"Okay, I know I said I liked the dress, but…" he tugged at the hemline tucked just under her hips and pulled it off her willing body.

"About time, cowboy!" she smiled, breathless.

He continued kissing her as he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, into the abyss, where the dress had gone. She was so dizzy from him that she barely noticed he was laying her down until her warm back hit cool sheets. She could feel his touch everywhere at once, despite the fact that he was really only making two or three points of contact.

Shane trembled as Sy peppered her soft body with kisses. She couldn't recall shivering like this before, especially when there was nothing but warmth, even heat, around her. His beard grazing her hips and thighs was sending tremors through her unlike anything she'd ever felt. She was a goner, and he hadn't even truly begun.

His breath against her skin was like lightning in the clouds. A storm began forming within, and all around them from his work on her…and eventually in her. He took the time to remove both of the shirts he was wearing--plaid cotton blend and thick white jersey. She reached out to run her fingertips over his chest, covered in a manly stand of thick, dark hair. It ran over his pecs and down his abdomen…farther, she knew, than was exposed right now.

She wanted to touch him. To return the favor. To stir in him the same tempest he'd stirred in her. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. She was a little surprised he wasn't resisting her, but pleased, all the same. She took the heavy weight of him out in some shock…she'd caught outlines and silhouettes often since they'd been together, but he hadn't let her go this far yet. It had made her feel a little slutty at the time, but now, she understood. He was…protecting her, in a way. She handled him curiously, gently, as he'd been with her. Her apprehension, however, grew with him.

"Sy, you're…I…" she wasn't sure what to say. But she had concerns about being rent in two by him.

"I think I remember tellin' ya you wouldn't be laughin,' sunshine." he grinned at her, breathless as she stroked him.

"You were right. But don't get too used to me saying so." she smirked back at him.

He pulled away from her, reluctantly, but eager to get back to tasting her.

She couldn't comprehend what he was doing. But it felt incredible. No one she'd ever been with had made her feel like this. Like her blood was effervescent and her body was aglow like embers. His reaction to her was as much a part of the pleasure as his ministrations themselves. She could tell he was enjoying himself which fed her desire.

She felt a tension coiling inside her, something similar to climaxes past but she could tell, much more intense. What was different? Other than Sy, she didn't know. But it was working. She moaned and writhed into him.

"Yeah, sugar. Let that out. I wanna hear it." he quickened, driving her mad and sending her spinning into her bliss, incomprehensible words and sounds escaping her, growls of satisfaction escaping him, but he didn't stop.

She felt his fingers working inside her to pull another climax from deep within her. This was new for her, as well. Not only was he putting her first, but he was making her a priority in double measure before taking anything for himself. As that pressure built in her again, she felt his gaze on her, hungry and adoring, and she heard his grunts of exertion and she thought, lust. She wasn't sure how many of his digits he'd managed to slide into her, but it felt splendid, and she wanted more. She gripped his arms to convey this desire, words caught in her throat. He dove headlong back down to her, adding his mouth to the onslaught of his hand, and before she could get out more than a "Fuuuu" she was falling apart again, her body spasming and writhing beneath his utter oral perfection. Eventually, she finished the word when she ran out of air and had to take in a large gasp on the "uck."

She watched him kiss around her thighs and hips, in awe of him in his entirety.

Breathless, she asked, "Why are you so good to me, Sy?"

"Well, a wise woman once told me, 'good go to heaven.'" he looked coyly up at her. "I think I'm there, sunshine."

"Ya know, you're the best patient I've ever had." she smiled.

"Well, I should hope so." he boasted as he kissed at her breasts, nipping at the taut, dark bud in the center. She gasped. He let go and continued his ascent.

He had a point. Who could have qualified as a "better" patient than him when he'd given her so much? Even more than what they were doing tonight. His kindness. The love he had always shown her, even when she wasn't ready to see it. His strength, but also his vulnerability that she seemed to be the only one ever to see. Combine that with the fact that his mind was basically a steel trap for her every word and it would have made him more than perfect enough for her.

But as he broke away from her kiss to take off his jeans, she marveled at the shape and size of his whole body. Those thick, strong arms, the broad, defined torso, the massive, powerful legs of an avid runner, and a face that God Himself would probably be jealous of, if He was capable of the feeling. This gorgeous exterior that Michelangelo would have killed to sculpt, combined with all of his other amazing qualities, and he was almost too perfect.

He cuddled up next to her, reached up, and caressed her face, still flush with pleasure.

"I could look at this face, and nothin' else for…damn… hours. Maybe days."

She blushed and cast her eyes down, and half whispered, "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why're you lookin' away, darlin'?" he tilted her chin up. "That shy business is cute and all, but you don't have to hide from me, sweetheart."

"Again, it's not you, it's me." she chuckled, nervously.

"You wanna call it a night, for now?" he asked without a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You're kidding, right?" she raised her eyebrows. "You did all that work getting me ready for you, and I won't let that be a wasted effort." she pulled him to her and into a deep kiss, rolling onto her back and bringing him with her.

"Oh, sugar, that wasn't no wasted effort. That was time well spent. No matter what." he said in short bursts when he could pull away from her lips.

He lifted himself up and over her, kneeling between her legs, already open for him. She thought he should know how ready she was. Thought it should be painfully obvious. But he asked anyway.

"You ready, sunshine?" he asked, as he opened the condom and rolled it on…damn he was slick! She hadn't even noticed him get it from wherever he'd had it. She presumed his jeans pocket, which would explain much. She had been very distracted by his naked perfection.

"Yes. Please." she had been struck with an urgency as they stood here on the verge of everything.

He sunk slowly into her, the contentment of coming home spread over his face, the bliss of being whole spreading over hers. No, she thought. She was more than whole. She'd always felt mostly whole during sex. Sy made her feel as though she was overflowing with herself. And not just because she was overflowing with him. The way he moved in her, over her, with her, it was like he was afraid she'd turn to vapor around him before he could finish. Like she was nothing more substantial than a bubble full of smoke, and he thought she may burst and disappear. Although, you couldn't tell from the tight grip he kept on her. A bruising grip that she thought might have had a chance of popping a football. She didn't care. She wanted him to touch and hold her like this until they had no more to give each other.

As they built toward their mutual undoing, the world and everything in it faded away. There was no personal drama or injury. Nothing but the euphoria of this newfound oneness. The caresses and thrusts and groans of pleasure were the only things that mattered. Each other, and what they found therein.

“Shane.” He whispered to her, his pinnacle nigh.

“Sy!” She whimpered, that familiar tension approaching its apex.

He kissed her, as if he meant to permanently emboss her onto the bedding and onto his lips. She reeled as she came undone, little sparks of light obscuring her vision for a fraction of a second. He followed her closely, breathless and spent.

He laid down beside her, as close to her as possible, and began drawing mindless circular patterns on her stomach and around her breasts.

“Wow.” She said, almost under her breath.

“How ya feelin,’ sunshine?”

“Mmm, boneless. Dazed. Half wishing we’d done that weeks ago. I didn’t have a clue what I was missing.”

“Oh, I think you had an idea.” He said as he neatly doffed and disposed of the prophylactic in the waste can by her bed.

“Okay, a bit.” She chuckled. ��It’s not like you can hide that…thing.”

“And I don’t try to, darlin’!” He kissed her forehead “Well, I don’t hide it just anywhere, put it that way.” He smirked at his dirty joke and she swatted him for it.

“You’re bad!”

“And you love it.”

She couldn’t argue. She loved his badness and his goodness and everything in between.

Up Next: Chapter Eleven- Discharge Plan 

[lowkeysebastianstan]

the day that bucky died

well, for me anyway, i see he’s alive and well with a lot of you, and as i did post-endgame, i envy you terribly.

i guess i still held out a small hope that the series could still awaken a spark in me, but after this i’m just... done. i mean first of all the ‘big’ trailer, which i thought was a trailer only for that series but then turned out to be for all three, but also... i don’t care? sure he looks like sebastian and only sebastian, which doesn’t help, but mostly, i just don’t care. if that character crashes and burns within the first five minutes of that thing, i’d just be, ‘eh’. i don’t know him, and worse, i don’t want to. 

the ending *shudders* comes back to me again, the way sam looks at bucky and bucky nods him along, a scene that says so much, not about the characters, but how little the creators cared about them, about us. sam getting the shield? excellent. sam being the one greeting steve after he returns? sure, he looks to bucky and he nods him on, but it’s just so??? this is sam. who knew exactly how much bucky meant to steve *lmao*, sam who witnessed steve’s reaction, his “heartbreak”, when steve realised bucky was alive and that he’d, unwillingly, sure, but still, left him to be tortured, to be used, to be broken, and the agony he went through. sam, who saw steves determination to reunite with bucky, to find him, saw how he scoured the earth for bucky because sam scoured it with him. sam, who saw how much bucky meant to steve *lmao*, saw the strength of that relationship, the deep bond of love, and recognised it because he shared the same with steve... he just went, eh surely this first meeting, the first words, should be about the succession of the mantle, about cap, not about steve, not about bucky, not about sam... yeah, i think that’s the scene that makes this whole concept fall completely flat. 

and ooohhh, finally they get to evolve their relationship, we get to see them become friends. but, we won’t? we don’t get to see any of that. that already happened, it happened off screen, it happened before aiw (unless they had a serious bonding session in the soul realm or tony’s fulneral was put off for a few months, it must have all happened post cacw/pre-aiw when the russos said steve spent some time in wakanda) they weren’t worthy or important enough for us to enjoy just a tiny bit of that, only let us have to fill in some serious blanks. they were even better friends than with steve i guess, bc they didn’t even stand with him, but then again, steve didn’t even mourn any of them in the five years so i guess that tracks. 

which is why i guess the first scene was about the shield, they both moved on from steve, or he moved on from them, they weren’t happy steve was back, i guess the shield was the last thing they needed closure on, and y’know, that was also a convo deemed not worthy of a few minutes screen time.

so what will they do? my guess? they’ll let sam have his time in the sun. in a television release. they’ll let him have an arc and a, hopefully, meaningful story. that also revolves around bucky, seems that they keep dangling the cheese in front of sebastian, but only there. bc when the big-budget hoopla comes back into town, when anthony mackie gets to be captain fucking america, they’ll just breeze past all that, bc they can, after all he got his time, he got his story, and now he can just be there as a token of their diversity, and goddamnit mackie deserves so.much.more. like... his story gets told alongside, and with as much importance as, other lesser characters, and a dead villain? 

and a dead driod i guess, im not minimising wanda’s pain, but c’mon, vision is fucking dead. and loki? idek, yes, i love tom, i love loki, but he died, a lot of time and lingering shots were spent on that, and idec that he was ‘redeemed’ he spent most of his screentime on the mcu fucking things up and killing people, sorry, i hated a lot abt aiw and endgame, but his exit was a few things they did right. but it tracks i guess, bc as m&m has repeatedly said, bucky is a villain too, i guess being tortured 3/4ths of your existence is just eh. 

SAM IS CAPTAIN FUCKING AMERICA AND HE DESERVES BETTER!

idk, it’s like with every beat marvel just keeps hammering the nail in deeper, takes any and all meaning out of these characters, they’ve already sucked them dry by showing us how little they mean, they’re not important, they’re not worthy, they don’t give a rat’s ass about them, they don’t care. and then they expect us to. 

i guess i’ll never stop caring though, i care enough that the loss of these fictional assholes break my heart, that the thought about bucky and what he’s meant to me makes me cry. rn actually. the loss of steve was peanuts in comparison, someplace along the end of the line sam came to mean so much more, bc atleast he stayed. and yeah, sam is amazing, he’s probably the best of them all, but bucky? i don’t think i’ve identified with a character so much. no other character has ever touched me the way bucky has, and i hate that they did this. to us, but i’m so selfish that, mostly just to me. 

okay. rant over for now, but knowing me there with be more bc rn i feel better letting it out (i’ve stopped crying and entertain a very soothing pure rage rn) but that will fluctuate in the next weeks and months i guess.

oh, and i still love bucky of old, to a lesser degree, but, and even if i avoid endgame like the plague i might still post, even make a set, bc both sebastian and mackie look hot af, they’re just not bucky and sam. i’m always down for some leather sebastian (even if since my vegetarian switch i’d prefer it was faux but what can you do. i’m cheap i guess.)

hope y’all are having an excellent day

[catdemontraphouse]

Vent post sorry ignore it y’all

I apologize for putting this but I really just... need to put this someplace and writing it in a journal and then stuffing that book in a place nobody can find it feels like when I used to hide things as a kid and made them worse, so this is my next most viable place to write. It’s just about how OCD almost killed me and like... I’m okay I just need to vent cuz somehow the trauma bubbled up in my mind lol

——————————

Thinking about the fact that the only reason I’m alive is because of the kindness of spirits. I know that sounds crazy but... It makes sense when you get the whole picture. Sorry I’m just getting this off my chest someplace where I can be relatively anon, you guys probably shouldn’t read this it’s very disturbing. As I said I’m just putting here for my own therapy cuz hiding it in a book makes me feel like complete ass like I’m still running away from it.

As a kid I developed really bad OCD to the point where I had severe delusions and psychosis shit- yes that is a thing that can really happen to people with OCD and it’s horrifying. It started when I was twelve and I wasn’t allowed to have any medical help until I was 21 or so (my junior year of college) and this was after several times I’d almost tried to kill myself. As a kid I’d cry myself to sleep like all the fucking time. I didnt feel safe telling anyone just how fucked up I was because my mom would say shit like “If you don’t explain what’s wrong I’m going to send you away” and I bet she was bluffing like a fuckin ass but as a child I thought that meant going to the type of inhumane sanitarium they show in movies about “Ooooo crazzzyy peoplleee!” Smart move mum that’s a perfect way to get a kid to tell you what’s tearing them up inside. My mom is a really good person who loves me but she fucked up ROYALY on this because she had super twisted moronic ideas about mental health. Thankfully I’m pretty sure she understands that now. Once she finally got shit through her massively thick skull she became and continues to be a strong advocate for me who actively tries to protect me from triggers and shit. Old nuerotypical folks really don’t fucking understand because they were raised in moronic shitty times to be alive. They don’t mean to be crappy and they need to be educated cuz they think ignoring stuff is how to protect people, as blatantly stupid as that is.

Anyhow some of the delusions I had as A KID included: thinking I’d either been or would be sexually violated and had no way to protect myself, thinking God actively despised my existence and wanted me to suffer and/or die, severe contamination fears, unwanted terrifying thoughts, thinking I might be violently possessed by a demon cuz I grew up with a crazy religious father who ranted about Hell etc. The only thing that saved me from this aside from getting some actual motherfucking professional help was the occult. Seriously that shit helped me overcome my religious scrupulocity which was the source of so many of my deadly fears. I used to constantly worry about Satan and demons and shit as a child and now I laugh at horror movies and make jokes about “agents of stan” and “deemoonz.” I felt worthless and afraid and now I still feel like ass, but I know I’m strong as fuck and I’ve got people backing me up always and forever, even folks who are between worlds. I feel like I have renewed power and I no longer feel like as much of a helpless victim. Life for me is still hard and kinda shitty but I’m beginning to feel stable again even if it’s just a little bit. I know believing in supernatural shit might be on crack but it makes me so happy.