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captainpondlilly · 11 months ago

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Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.

My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object

You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*

A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could

I don't like "lunchlad"

Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this

My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"

I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry

What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons

I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone

In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!

In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"

My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for

It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea

I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam

Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal

Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*

I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun

I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get

I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since

I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below

Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes

Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway

My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me

I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake

I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact

The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop

On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place

he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again

Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me

We're the throw up boys!*

I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison

I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee

A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died

Today I have been hit by 3 scooters

Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones

My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing

Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me

Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*

When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole

If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.

If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through

I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀

*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!

#d20 #dimension 20 #naddpod #bahumia #brian murphy #emily axford #brennan lee mulligan #gilear faeth #siobhan thompson #lou wilson #ally beardsley #dropout #spire #fantasy high #fantasy high freshman year #fantasy high sophomore year #fantasy high junior year

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year ago

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A/N: I can’t sleep, I miss Eddie, and we still going through it, babes… So I channeled it into this. Love y’all, and thank you for making my dark days brighter ❤️

Warnings: Hurt that ends in comfort, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, fluff, depression, anxiety, mentions of past trauma/injury (Eddie’s wounds), & mental illness (reader has bipolar disorder).

The noise is soft, quiet enough that you can hear it if you lay to listen for a few seconds. Then it raises in octaves, a few clatters and curses. And despite the haze of your mood, a brief bit of fog dissipates, pinching your brow into an amused raise.

“Shit, fuckin’… slap my ass and call me your whore.”

You cover your mouth with a snort, as your fuzzy sock clad feet touch hardwood, and you make your way into the night light lit hallway. There’s a buttery glow from your kitchen that spills out around the corner, giving you a perfect view of your overly theatrical friend — Eddie Munson, as you come into the eye-line. He’s clad in a black t-shirt and whitewash jeans, his pizza decorated socks covering his own feet. His curls are damp, bordering on drying, and he hums a rhythm as you watch him flip a golden shaped object with your Goodwill gifted spatula. You perch yourself against the paneled wall, a warmth stirring in your belly.

He’s had to have used your spare key, and now he’s here before it’s barely even daylight — making something in your kitchen? First off, he wakes up this early? And second, he can cook?

That’s what leaves your mouth, following a series of scolding laughters when he’s clearly startled and drops the utensil on the stove. His rings clink together as he pinches his shirt collar, and you want to apologize, an instant guilt brimming you at surprising him like this. After everything that happened a few months ago, you really should’ve thought your entrance through (despite this being your own home). Eddie tuts, a smirk suddenly finding him amongst his Bambi eyed mirth.

“You scared the shit out of me, kiddo. Thought you were another hoard of bats coming for my other nipple.” He snatches up the utensil and flips it Steve Harrington style, calming your sudden anxiety, and easing your guilt.

You make your way over beside him, bare hip resting against the kitchen counter. He smiles softly, pouring in (what you now see is pancake batter) more of the mixture, flashing a wink your way. You look so fucking perfect and soft, just in socks, panties, and your oversized shirt with stars and crescent moon prints scattered about on it. He’s used to seeing this on you, but it never gets old. When you nursed him back to health after he was released from the hospital, you both grew a lot closer, having been mere acquaintances beforehand.

Changing his dressings, soothing his nightmares, helping him in and out of the shower — you took care of him in ways Eddie never knew existed. You were fearless, you were brave, you were funny, you were smart, you were beautiful and sexy, and as Nancy Wheeler had put it — he was totally fucking in love with you, like old classic — tickle your belly and balls type of romance movies. Once he had reluctantly left to return to the trailer with his uncle to repair the damage, he found that his desire to be near you had increased. And all was going well, until you started staying away from everyone, your voice languid and breathless when he’d call. He was worried it was your own processing of things that occurred, even if you’d been through it a few more years than he had, but Wheeler came through again with her knowing.

You were dealing with something that Eddie recognized as ‘manic depression’. He’d heard about it, seen it printed on the pamphlets in the nurse and guidance counselor’s office. Bipolar disorder. Nancy had explained (with the help of Steve) that you get like this sometimes, that it almost always follows your elevated periods of elated euphoria. Combine that with everything else that happened to you — Eddie immediately went into protective care mode.

He’d gotten up, showered, dressed, and phoned Harrington since he wasn’t able to drive yet. Steve came without question, especially fast on his way when Eddie mentioned the errands were for you. Both boys had gone to the local fabric shop, purchased the curtain and rod, tripped to the grocery store, and Steve had dropped Eddie off. He used his spare key and got to work on his speciality: chocolate chip flapjacks. He intended on surprising you with them, maybe waiting until he thought you were awake.

He didn’t mean to startle you, nor upset you. He’s quick to ease and relax, joking with you, praying you’re not mad that he’s here, invading you, your space, and whatever you’re going through.

Eddie flips the last cake, sprinkling in a few chips, and he’s flashing a cheshire grin, one that fades to a crooked tilt of his lips. “M’ sorry… I didn’t mean to, sort of… break in here? I planned on waiting — shit, that sounds creepy. No, I just wanted to have this ready for you… whenever you might, maybe want to have it?”

You cause his heart to swell ten times in size when you smile and reach up to push a lock of his curls off his forehead. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You’ve put an old movie on TV as you devour the fluffy, butter and syrup covered mountains. Whatever Happened To Baby Jane. Like you, Eddie is comforted by classic horror films, and can easily fall asleep to the controlled atmosphere they contain. When forks clatter against floral printed ceramic, and you take Eddie’s plate, deciding to forgo the dishes, he makes a beeline for the remaining bag, showing you the other items. You nearly cry on the spot, emotions circulating that you aren’t prepared to deal with today.

Turning off the living room television, you follow Eddie into your bedroom and help as he mounts the new rod and hangs your blackout bedroom curtains. And you… maybe sneak a few looks at the way his shirt rides up and his jeans tighten across his ass. It doesn’t take long before he’s got them secured, first breaks of dawn light spilling in through your blinds and illuminating his sweet features. Your fingers itch to touch, and you think he might reach for you, might feel the same wild, heart racing sense of vertigo, yet being serenely satiated.

“Oh yeah, here.” He slides his wallet from his back pocket, the chain dangling across his palm, and he pulls a small square card with a quote on it — out, handing it to you.

One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through and it will be someone else’s survival guide

Below it, you recognize his doodling. A hand drawn, mini bouquet of daisies. He might not be able to afford real flowers, but he can use what skill he does have and draw them for you. He just hopes that you don’t mind. Your eyes are brimmed full of tears when he looks back up to catch your reaction. His gut sinks into his ass, and he fears he overstepped or set something off.

Hell, probably both.

He tries to backtrack. “No, hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to make you upset, sweetheart. I just… I was trying to find something to think of to say, because my words kind of get lost in my mouth, catapulting into the space of my brain.”

“Eddie, it’s okay.” Your voice is jagged, tone being dragged over fragments of emotion, throat swollen and damp with it.

He keeps going, more bold to be vocal now. “I think that it’s okay for you to ride it out here. You don’t need to force yourself into ideas of sunshine and physical activity. You’ve been through so much shit, and if your brain is on fire, then you deserve to put it out and let it fuckin’ rest.” He approaches you cautiously, tone gentle and warm like honey going down, almost raspy with it. “You don’t need to force yourself to be okay. Not with anyone, and sure as hell not with me. I mean, you’ve seen my guts hanging out and my nipple ripped off, I’d say we’re well past pretending, aren’t we?”

You’re speechless, body growing heavy and eyes tired. You can’t convey the hope that blooms, popping a bubble through the haze of the fog inside you. It’s not much, but it’s enough to help your psyche stop the race and let you breathe. Eddie is able to sense your fatigue, and he reaches out to squeeze your shoulders, motioning to the hall. “You close these on up and I’ll call you later tonight, yeah?”

He gets about two steps away from you and you’re calling for him. It’s comedic how fast he turns around. “Eddie? Will you stay?”

You’d turned the movie back on, on the set in your room, curtains closed and leaving the expanse shrouded in the glow of the set. Your head is resting on his chest, his jeans on the floor, legs tangled in yours beneath the patchwork quilt. The air conditioner is going, right along with the steady beating of two hearts, and Eddie doesn’t stop you when you knuckle-nudge his splayed palm up, pressing his fingers open to slide your own through. He accepts, squeezing, lacing, looking at you through the opening of light, and you lean into the kiss he presses to your crown. You’ll talk about things later, but for now… It’s okay.

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melissacameron4 · 6 months ago

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Meet The Grandparents

Warnings including but not limited to : family drama, anxiety, drama, angst, death, oc death (not main character), suicide, depression

** this is really bad, but I had this idea in my head and couldn't get rid of it **

Long AF but I don't know how to write any other way

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a normal childhood. No psycho killer for a parent. Both still alive and loving. The only non normal part was when my mom died when I was seventeen and my 35 year old sister went missing in lieu of a case of three children going missing.

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asked her. We were called in on the case late. There were already three victims.

“Sir, as much as I want to dazzle you with my awesomeness, I’m coming up blank.” She told them. “I’ve checked and double checked and cross checked everything I can think of and I still have zilch.”

“Have you tried checking the surrounding towns? Do everything within a 45 mile radius.” Hotch question and advised her.

“See this is why you’re the boss man and I’m just the techie that types.” She told us.

“Penelope, also double cross those names with the list of names you get with a list of teachers, nurses, and counselors.” I added in. My sister, Caroline, was a teacher. Maybe he went for the mothering type.

“Okay super. This is much more manageable and I might actually get a hit. Catch you both on the flip.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With no leads, Hotch decided it was time to try a cognitive interview.

"Alyssa, sit down." I sat down across from Hotch. "Close your eyes."

I took another shuddering breath and closed my eyes. "What am I thinking about?"

"What's your first memory with your sister?" He started off.

I thought back to my first memory with her. "We - playing at the park near my house. She use to push me on the swings. I remember her giving me under dunks."

"Did you guys always play at that park?" He continued.

"Usually, because it was so close to our house. We could walk there without crossing the highway. Just side streets. And we would go there because that's where Caroline would meet up with her friends"

"Who were her friends?"

"Ah, Callie. That was her best friend. They always played together until..." I trailed off.

"Until what?" Hotch pressed.

"When I was ten, she would've been sixteen, Callie stopped coming around. I don't remember why. I was going back and forth between Mom and Grandpas."

"Why were you at your Grandpa's so much?"

"I don't remember." I opened my eyes and stared at him.

"You do remember, close your eyes. Think back to conversations you might have overheard." He urged me. I took a deep breath, not as shakily as before, and closed my eyes. "Think back. Think back to your Grandpa's house. What do you notice?"

"It always felt so big to me when I was little. At my mom's, Caroline and I use to share a room, until I was eight. Then we moved. But I always had my own room at Grandpa's. That's when things got more stressed. Mom got another job, I started going to Grandpa's more."

"When was the first time you heard somebody talk about it."

"At Grandpas. He was talking to my mom. It must have been on the phone."

"What was he saying?"

"He's talking to my mom about Caroline getting in trouble. I can't hear everything."

"What can you hear?"

"Grandpa is mad. He doesn't get mad often."

"What is he mad about?"

"He's mad because Mom won't punish Caroline."

"What did she do?"

"He's yelling -- he's yelling about it. About - about how Caroline had a meeting with her school counselor. I don't - I don't remember anything else." I opened my eyes and stared at Hotch.

"You did great." He told me, giving me his rare smile.

"I hardly remembered anything." I protested.

"You remembered more than you thought. You gave us a lot of details. Like your sister meeting with the school counselor. That let's us know it was probably because she was bullying. She got in trouble at school."

"Hotch." Rossi said from the door.

"What is it Rossi?"

"Penelope found something on Caroline's phone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Penelope sat with me as the team found the location of Caroline. I knew when Spencer and the rest of the team came in that something bad had happened.

I opened my mouth to ask, but no words came out. Spencer looked at JJ.

JJ kneeled in front of me. I gripped Penelope's hand tight.

"When Penelope got onto Caroline's phone, she found a note." JJ said.

"What kind of note?"

"It was a suicide note. Your sister died from suicide. She was racked with guilt from the incident years ago with the boys and then the shooting. She died a few days ago." All of the words JJ was saying slowly became quieter and quieter. There was a ringing in my ears and everything turned dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We got to my grandpa's house, thankfully Rossi and JJ had let him know. I wouldn't have been able to tell them.

I walked into the house, dazed.

"Oh, sweetheart." Grandpa said, pulling me into a hug. I hugged him tightly. "Okay, we're going to be okay." I pulled back and moved back by Spencer. I gripped his hand tightly. "Who's this?"

"This is Spencer."

"Your boyfriend." He nodded to Spencer. Thankfully, I told my grandpa about Spencer's weird habits and he didn't try to make physical content with Spencer. "Well, I'm Henry."

"Spencer."

"I wish we were meeting under different circumstances."

"Me too, sir."

He waved his hand. "None of that. Sir makes me feel old, and I'm not that."

I smiled softly at my grandpa. He always could make me smile.

"Dad, who was at the door - oh Alyssa!" My grandma barreled into the room.

"Grandma." I hugged her tight.

"Oh, baby. It's been too long." She pressed her hand to my cheek for a moment before looking at Spencer. "You must be Spencer."

"I am, it's nice to meet you. Alyssa talks very highly of you." Spencer smiled at her.

"She is our baby." Grandma told him. "I made supper, you need to eat."

I tried to protest, but Spencer spoke up. "You haven't eaten since lunch yesterday."

I pursed my lips and looked at Grandma who was glaring at me.

"Kitchen."

"Yes, ma'am." I walked into the kitchen. "Grandpa! Grandma and Spencer are ganging up on me." I whined.

"Honey, leave the girl alone. She's been home for less than fifteen minutes."

"She needs to eat." Grandma said, coming into the kitchen, Spencer following.

"That's true." Grandpa said. "Good thing Grandma made your favorite."

"You made ravioli?" My eyes widened in surprise.

"Honey, you really didn't think I was going to make you come home after Caroline..." Grandma trailed off.

I bit my lip. "Well, I'm here now." I smiled softly at her.

"That's true." Grandpa agreed. "And we finally get to meet Spencer here."

I smiled at Spencer, who was looking at me with a smile. Even when the whole world was dark, he was always my sunshine.

"Caroline would have loved this." I said sitting at the table. "Family dinners were her favorite."

"We stopped doing them when your mom died. It became to painful." Grandma said.

"It was painful." I agreed with her.

"We can start doing it again more regularly." Grandpa decided. "We live close enough."

"We can come up if we aren't on a case." Spencer told them.

"That would be just lovely." Grandma smiled at the two of us.

"Welcome to the family, Spence." I whispered to him.

"Happy to be here." He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

End.

This is really bad but I had this thought and had to write it down. If you or anybody is in need of help, please call # 988.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #david rossi #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x oc fanfiction

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potluckofmybrain · 20 days ago

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Hi tumblr directioners,

So idk if anyone will see this but I want to share my personal experience as a directioner in the wake of losing Liam Payne.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t a die-hard fan the whole time the band was together, but I was IN IT my freshman and sophomore years of high school.

It was 2011-2013, I was a teenage girl going through some tough stuff at home. And by “some stuff” I meant my dad was dying of brain cancer, and we moved to a new state where I didn’t know anyone. My dad passed away end of summer before my freshman year. I missed the first 2 weeks of school, got unenrolled, had to re-enroll, then got put on the counselor’s list of people to keep an eye on.

Of course I was depressed and antisocial and anxiety ridden starting at a new school. I moved from VA to TX and the culture shock was real I can’t lie. Then I heard some girls in my freshman English class talking about one direction. I had heard of the band but never really gave them any attention.

I remember going home that day and memorizing all the words to the Up All Night album in my living room. I remember making lyric art with the *skinny* crayola markers, and dedicating every tumblr post to 1D so that I could make friends and not feel like such an outsider. I remember having a common interest with other girls that made us feel like a community.

Then twitter got big and the #bring1Dtome challenge happened iykyk. (It was a really big deal okay) we stayed up all night and competed in a series of challenges with other directioners across the country. Long story short #bring1DtoDallas won the contest.

The only way to get into the private album signing before the concert (a prize of the contest and one directions first American performance) was to buy an album from the Barnes and Noble store in the mall. If you were the first 150? (Idk the number) of people in line then you’d be given a free poster and a WRIST BAND to get into the concert at the then named, Dr Pepper Ballpark, along with your collectors edition album.

So, naturally me and my 3 new (and only) friends piled into my 17 yr old older sister’s hand-me-down Yukon XL and slept at the mall the night before. (Duh). We blasted Up All Night songs with other directioners until after midnight and didn’t sleep at all because we were soooo excited.

Then morning came, people started lining up at 3am, news crews were there, mall security was there it was a big thing, this was at the Stonebriar mall in Frisco Tx for any of my older fans who know what I’m talking about.

So the doors aren’t going to open until 7am, mall opens at like 6am (don’t quote me on these times I’m guesstimating). 5:30 rolls around and we take a lap to assess if we can even get a spot in line… for those of you who don’t know— stonebriar is a two floor mall and the Barnes and noble has two entrances one on each floor, it’s one of the first stores near the parking garage entrance.

5:45am-The line is wrapped around the side of the mall at the bottom level. My friends and I start to lose hope of getting these wrist bands.

5:57am- our spot in line is shit my older sister realizes we’re disappointed and she says she “didn’t sleep in the car for no reason. You’re getting those wrist bands, follow me”.

5:59am: My friends and I haul ass to the second floor entrance and my sister says “when they open the door walk in, go down the escalator, sit in line and act like you were there the whole time.” And we did.

We got our wristbands and albums. We were on the news (in the background of someone else’s interview lol) and we started the countdown for the concert.

Let me add some additional context. I was a 14 year old girl who’s dad just died, who lived with a depressed mom, an unmedicated schizophrenic oldest sister who had just had a baby (so my niece, who was born 3 days before my dad died), a bipolar 17yr old older sister who had anger issues, and two younger siblings in elementary school that i’m trying to shelter. The living environment wasn’t great to say the least, cops were called multiple times (by me). No charges were pressed.

My dad was diagnosed with stage 3 brain cancer when I was starting 8th grade, it was aggressive, treatments were expensive, our house in VA was foreclosed, my mom moved us to TX bc she had distant family there and available family grave plots, his cancer progressed and he passed away in August 2011.

We moved to TX in May 2011 at the end of my 8th grade year. Beginning of Summer before freshman year my mom moved my dad into hospice care. We would go to visit every other day and take turns feeding him and telling stories and it was heavy and sad. He passed away 2 days before school started.

One direction was the only thing I had to escape and bring any sense of joy in such a heartbreaking time. They brought me so much comfort, they brought me friends, they brought me a sense of being a normal teenage girl who’s dad didn’t have cancer, who’s sisters weren’t attacking each other, and who’s mom wasn’t threatening to 0ff herself.

So anyways, we got albums signed before the concert. it was very quick not like a meet and greet, they were all sitting in a row at a table, we walked through in a line and spoke to them all I was so excited I forgot to record on my camera, everyone was sweating bc it was 105 degrees outside, best day ever!! they were even cuter in person.

I just want to thank every Directioner who ever made me feel less alone as a struggling 14 year old. And I want to say that if you’re grieving Liam or one direction you’re not alone, I’m there with you. They were my safe space and loving them was…is a personality trait.

Anyways I stored those albums in a closet my junior year, then went through a house fire where everything got smoke damaged. We moved like 6 times that year. It was rough.

idk why I haven’t cleaned the albums but that’s what it is, and it’s a sobering reminder of the fact that I was going through so much but these boys were always there for me. I’ll clean them soon.

I’ll never be a boy-band obsessed teenager again, and I’m thankful to those boys for giving me happy memories during that time of my life.

If you read all that thank you and I love you 💓

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premierinsightcounseling · 8 days ago

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holisticwellnesssolutions · 2 years ago

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forbidden-salt · 2 months ago

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Breaking the Silence; My Mental Health Story for Worldwide Suicide Prevention Day

By ForbiddenSalt

9/10/2024

Trigger Warning: This blog post discusses suicidal ideation, depression, and mental health struggles. If you are in a vulnerable state, please read with caution, and know that support is available through resources like 988, friends, and loved ones.

Resources and helpful tools for self and loved ones provided below the fold.

My Story:

Suicide Awareness Day holds a deeply personal meaning for me. For years, I struggled silently with suicidal thoughts, depression, and anxiety, unsure of how to ask for help or whether I deserved it. Sharing my story now is not just about raising awareness, but about offering hope to anyone who feels the same weight I once carried.

At the age of 13, I began to experience something many people are hesitant to talk about—suicidal ideation. But it wasn’t until I was in college that I truly realized how dangerous those thoughts had become.

I remember one day when I was walking across campus from class to my dorm, lost in thought, and accidentally stepped off the curb without looking. A car was coming toward me. Instinctively, I jumped back, avoiding an accident. But what happened next startled me more than the near-miss. As I stood on the sidewalk, tears welled up, not because I was relieved, not because I was scared—I was upset that my instincts had saved me. I realized I wasn’t crying because I had narrowly avoided getting hit by a car; I was crying because, in that moment, I wanted to be hit. It would have been an "accident"—a way out without me having to act intentionally.

It dawned on me that this was something much more serious than I had admitted to myself.

This wasn’t the first time I had experienced suicidal thoughts, but it was one of the most shocking moments. I knew I needed help. I sought out a counselor at the campus health center and, for a time, tried therapy. When I went home for a break, I spoke to my doctor, and she prescribed me an SSRI. I confided in my family and was met with mixed reactions—some were supportive, while others expressed concerns about the medication, urging me to stop taking it as quickly as possible. This set up an internal battle for me; I began starting and stopping my medication over the next few months, caught between fear and shame; and eventually quit all together.

Suicidal ideation lingered in the back of my mind for years. I wished for a pause button, a way to make the world stop so I could catch my breath and somehow not fall behind. I dreamed of getting hurt or sick enough to be hospitalized, just so I could take a break from life’s demands. But I never let myself act on those thoughts.

It wasn’t until my mid-20s that things got so bad I returned to therapy. This time, it was different. My new therapist helped me understand that I wasn’t “crazy”—I was carrying the weight of childhood trauma and years of struggling to survive. She diagnosed me with complex PTSD, and for the first time, I felt understood. Her support gave me the strength to make significant changes in my life, including moving to a new state.

There, I found another therapist who continued to guide me through the ups and downs. I started back on an SSRI and have stayed on it ever since. Through this process, I realized that what I had been dealing with wasn’t just emotional—it was also biological. My body wasn’t producing enough serotonin, and my chronic illnesses, were compounding these mental health struggles by denying my body the tools to make its own serotonin and through the weight of the symptoms. Especially for a while before there was any answer or treatment plan in sight.

I went through EMDR therapy, talk therapy, and put in the hard work to heal. I focused on my physical and mental health, fighting for answers and for my life. Slowly, I began to reclaim control. I started to recognize the warning signs of passive suicidal ideation and created an action plan for when those thoughts creep in. I don’t go to therapy as often now, but I still have touch-base appointments in case something changes.

Through this journey, I’ve learned so much about myself and the nature of mental illness. Depression, anxiety, and PTSD were not signs that I was lazy or difficult, though I was often labeled as such. They were symptoms of a much deeper issue. I wish people could see that depression isn’t a mindset or mood and suicidal thoughts are not selfish—they are the final, fatal symptom of a disease.

It took a long time for me to accept that what I went through wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t to blame for the trauma I endured or the way my brain and body responded to it. And if you’re reading this and find yourself in a dark place, I want you to know you are not alone. I know what it’s like to stand in the darkness for so long that it starts to feel like home. But I also know that it is possible to fight back, to heal, and to find hope again.

If you can’t fight for yourself right now, I encourage you to reach out to someone—anyone—who can sit with you in your pain. Let them help you find a therapist, a doctor, or simply help with daily tasks. It might not be the person you expect. For me, one if my company leaders had noticed my depression and helped me find a therapist. I had a best friend who sat with me over the phone while I sobbed broken hearted, encouraging me to seek help if I needed it. That going to the hospital if I needed it wasn’t shameful or weak but brave and admirable. It was my grandmother, who spoke to me daily, reminding me of my faith and offering love when I couldn’t love myself and felt those I loved most didn’t love me.

Faith also played a huge role in my healing. I’ve had my share of questions and anger, but my belief that God could handle my questions and my rage helped me through some of the darkest times. I questioned why my life was going the way it was, why I was feeling the way I did, if He knows everything before it happens, if he’s all powerful why didn’t he step in to change the course of my life away from this. My questions turned to anger and I had to keep reminding myself that God had shoulders big enough for my anger, my tears, my pain. That I could toss all of it at him and he’d still see me still, love me. I never doubted his existence, and honestly to this day I still don’t have all the answers but I’m sure one day I’ll understand and I’ve realized I was still loved even when I couldn’t see it.

My family eventually came around too. Even my dad, who I had thought didn’t believe me, recently admitted how scared he had been for me after he had kept his fears hidden for years since it had gotten bad. We were able to talk and he listened, shared his point of view, and made the effort to understand. He allowed me to assure him I was safe now, I was doing better, and it’s changed our relationship for the better. While I had found my way to stability without knowing if my family believed or supported me, learning my family did care enough to worry, cared enough to learn, and loved me enough to listen even if what I said was hard to hear meant the world to me.

If you’re struggling, know that there is help out there. Call 988 for support, reach out to friends, hug your dog or cat, cling to your faith—whatever gets you through the next moment. Each day is a step, and that’s enough. It doesn’t have to be a leap—it just has to be forward.

Resources for support below:

Here are some coping strategies:

1. Box Breathing: This simple technique can help reduce anxiety. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four, exhale for four, and pause for four. Repeat until your heart rate slows and you feel more grounded. You can do this while on a video call too just let your eyes glide along the edges of the screen while you hold and breathe.

2. Straw Breathing: Another great calming tool—take a deep breath in, and then slowly exhale like you’re blowing through a straw. It mimics the relaxing response of the parasympathetic nervous system and helps you focus.

3. Journaling: I started journaling, reminding myself it didn’t have to be perfect. It was just for me. I stopped feeling guilty if I skipped days or weeks and let the words flow when I needed them. If you struggle with journaling, try creating an anonymous blog where you can rant and vent without worrying about dates or continuity. I have a separate Tumblr just for this—a void I can yell into when I need to.

4. Bilateral Stimulation: Butterfly taps—crossing your arms and tapping on opposite shoulders—helped calm me during moments of stress. This was especially useful during EMDR therapy, which became one of my strongest tools.

5. Creating a Routine: I used to go to the gym to cope before my chronic illness made it harder, so I shifted to art as a form of expression. Creating anything—whether it’s a routine or a creative outlet—can make a difference.

6. Boundaries and Emotions: Learning boundaries and reconnecting with my emotions was vital. One book that really changed my perspective was Rage Becomes Her by Soraya Chemaly, which helped me embrace my anger as a valid emotion. Learn how to advocate for yourself and establish boundaries. This takes time, but it’s one of the most empowering things you can do for your mental health.

7. Prioritize Yourself: Make time for what you need—therapy, the gym, a bath, or a doctor’s appointment. And allow yourself to rest. Your mind and body will force you to stop if you keep ignoring the warning signs.

8. Taking Shortcuts: Too tired to make a proper meal? That’s okay. Eat food however it comes—deconstructed meals are all the rage anyway. I’ve had moments where lunch was just handfuls of cheese and lunch meat. The goal is to nourish yourself, and sometimes that means being kind to yourself about how you do it.

10. Create Safety Nets: If you're heading somewhere that could be triggering, plan for it. What’s your exit strategy? Can you bring a comfort item, like a fidget toy, a blanket, or a stuffed animal? Having a plan can give you a sense of control.

11. Redirecting Negative Thoughts: When I get caught in negative thoughts, I ask myself if these thoughts are helping me process emotions or if they're just hurting me. If I’m not ready to process them, I work on redirecting my focus to something more helpful.

13. Emotional Support Animals: If you can, get an emotional support animal. My mini schnauzer has helped me through so much, even though she doesn’t know it.

How can I help a loved one:

1. Listen First: Before jumping to solutions, take time to listen. Validate the person's feelings, and let them process before suggesting how to fix things. Most of the time, they already know the solution; they just need space to work through it.

2. Stop Shaming Mental Health: Be mindful of how you talk about mental health. I’ve overheard loved ones shaming people for being "selfish" or "foolish" for being depressed, anxious, suicidal and even those that did commit suicide not knowing how often it was on my mind. Those words made it even harder to speak up and ask for help.

3. Fear and Guilt Are Not Helpful Tools: Fear and guilt are not effective motivators when it comes to mental health. I once told someone close to me that I didn’t believe people who commit suicide go to hell. Just as someone who passes from cancer doesn’t go to hell for how they died, I believe the same for depression—it’s an illness. They responded that they hoped fear of hell would keep me from acting on those thoughts. I explained that, by the time someone is ready to act, they likely don’t care anymore. The weight of the pain is overwhelming, and fear or guilt won’t pull them back.

4. Recognize the Signs: Suicidal ideation, passive suicidal ideation, and suicidal plans are all dangerous and need treatment and support. It may begin with passive thoughts like, “I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t wake up tomorrow,” but those can shift into active planning if left unchecked. Just because someone hasn’t acted on it doesn’t mean they don’t need help. Depression doesn't always look the same for everyone. It could be messy rooms, low energy, or a lack of interest in things that once brought joy. It could also look like reckless behavior, withdrawing, or joking about death. These subtle signs shouldn’t be brushed off—they’re as important as overt cries for help and worth a check as little as “hey you keep making these jokes, I just want to make sure you really are okay?” If someone is talking about feeling hopeless, giving away possessions, withdrawing from loved ones, or engaging in risky behavior, these are red flags.

5. Offer practical support: Whether it’s helping with daily tasks, providing a ride to a therapy appointment, or just sitting quietly with them, practical support can be a lifeline.

6: Encourage professional help: Gently suggest therapy, medical care, or other professional help if the person hasn’t already sought it. Be patient and compassionate, understanding that reaching out can be terrifying for them.

7. Be present: Sometimes the best thing you can do is just be there. Your physical and emotional presence can provide comfort, even when there are no words.

If you have a loved one who you worry is going through something, or has confided in you and you are worried for them. Don’t wait. Speak to them. Ask them how you can help, what’s going on, listen. If you’re afraid for them, even after they have gotten to the other side, don’t let your fears tear at you for months, tell them then listen and trust that when they say they are good, have come out the other side have an action plan for when they notice the signs - belive them. If you can’t let it go still, seek your own support. The fear of loosing someone you care about is worthy of attention. If you’re reading this because someone you love is struggling with suicidal thoughts, thank you for caring. Supporting someone with suicidal ideation can be incredibly difficult, but your presence matters more than you might realize.

If you or someone you love is struggling, find Resources for Support:

1. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Dial 988 for immediate help in the U.S. Available 24/7.

2. Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor.

3. The Trevor Project: Focused on supporting LGBTQ+ youth, The Trevor Project offers crisis intervention and suicide prevention services. Text START to 678678 or visit their website.

4. NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness): NAMI provides free, confidential support for mental health concerns. Call the NAMI Helpline at 1-800-950-NAMI or text NAMI to 741741.

5. The Jed Foundation: Focused on mental health support for teens and young adults, the Jed Foundation works to protect emotional health and prevent suicide. Visit jedfoundation.org for more information.

6. The Veterans Crisis Line: Veterans and their loved ones can call 988 and press 1 or text 838255 for confidential support. Available 24/7.

Suggestions for Keeping Yourself Safe:

1. Create a safety plan: Write down a plan for when suicidal thoughts occur. This could include calling a trusted friend, therapist, family, distracting yourself with an activity you enjoy, or going to a safe place where you can feel grounded and making an appointment with your doctor.

2. Reach out to a support network: Whether it’s friends, family, or a therapist, let someone know how you’re feeling. It’s important not to isolate yourself when you’re struggling.

3. Remove means: If you’re feeling unsafe, remove items that could be harmful or ask someone you trust to hold onto them temporarily. There is no shame in this ever.

4. Practice grounding techniques: When suicidal thoughts take over, try grounding yourself with techniques like deep breathing, focusing on your senses, or engaging in mindfulness exercises. These can help bring you back to the present moment. Call on your faith if you need to to get by, play with your pet anything to help you get grounded and move through the feeling

5. Remember that feelings pass: In the heat of the moment, it can feel like the pain will last forever. But emotions are temporary, and feelings—even the darkest ones—eventually pass. That feelings are normal and natural and have no moral judgement, feel it, acknowledge it, and let it move through knowing another feeling will come your way take its place.

Recovery isn’t pretty, and life isn’t perfect; but you are worth fighting for.

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therapyrooms1 · 4 months ago

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amethystunarmed · 5 months ago

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These Changes Within Me

Word Count: 850 Ao3 Written for Hatchetfield @femslashfortnight Day 3: Gay Awakening Hannah Foster contemplates her feelings surrounding Spitfire.

Nice things don't happen to Hannah Foster. This is the law of the universe. Of many universes.

Hannah's counselor had called her “depressed” and “a nihilist” when she'd said it, but Hannah knows it is true. She's seen it.

She has seen the Hannah with blue blood dripping down her face, singing at the top of her lungs. She watched the Hannah clinging to Lexi as an glowing golden streak vaporized Hatchetfield. She witnessed the Hannah killed in the crossfire while Grace Chasity read from a black book with a white symbol on the front.

Hannah Fosters don’t get nice things. That is to say... Not until now.

Hannah comes into the locker room after her fight, still buzzing with adrenaline and high off the cheers of the crowd. She is swarmed by kids her own age and they're... Cheering. They seem... Excited, to meet her. Hannah hadn't known it was possible for other kids to not just tolerate her, but to actually want her around.

She can't help her blush as they praise her and that blush only grows as Spitfire weaves through the crowd to face Hannah directly. Spitfire’s harsh gaze hits her harder than she expects. Hannah had thought that maybe she would feel less nervous around Spitfire after besting her in the ring, but it seems like her hopes had no weight. Looking at her now, Hannah still just sees that amazing girl standing on the bar, arms raised in victory. Hannah wanted that. She still wants that, but now, with Spitfire in front of her, Hannah wonders if there may be more to it. Just having Spitfire near her makes her hands sweat.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, hoping it will be enough.

And Spitfire... Spitfire smiles at her. She looks at Hannah like Hannah was the one standing on the bar this time, someone to be admired. It makes Hannah’s heartbeat fast in her chest.

She asks Hannah’s name, and Hannah gives it, freely. When she introduces herself, holds out her hand in introduction, lets Hannah know Sophia, Hannah jumps at the opportunity, eagerly. She shakes Sophia's hand, taking it a little too quickly to be casual. The contact lasts just a moment, and Hannah finds herself missing it when Sophia pulls away.

“You're one of us now,” Sophia reassures her, “Got it?”

And tomorrow, Lexie's smile will make everything worth it. Sitting in that penthouse apartment with two people she loves will feel like a dream. But in this moment, with Sophia's smile warm like a sunbeam across her face, Hannah is pretty sure she's never wanted anything more.

She agrees handily when Sophia invites her to skate, but Hannah will admit, she struggles. She clings to the wall, gingerly sliding her skates back and forward, not going anywhere. The other kids fly by her, and once again Hannah is on the outside looking in, lightyears from her peers. Is that really all she got? One evening, a few compliments, and-

Sophia rolls up next to her. Hannah is so prepared for the biting comments and teasing words, she nearly trips over her skates when Sophia holds a hand out to her.

“Here, let me help you balance,” she says. Hannah only hesitates a moment before reaching her own hand back. Sophia doesn't snatch her hand away or start to laugh. She just clutches Hannah's hand and gives her a firm base as a support.

Sophia's hand is warm in her grip, even through the leather fingerless gloves. Her fingers are softer than Hannah thought they would be, no sign of damage from the fire she throws in the ring. Sophia squeezes it, like a reassurance. A promise, as though she is saying, I'm here and I'm not letting go.

Sophia gives her another one of those trademark smirks, so incredibly confident, Hannah finds herself immediately reassured. She grabs Hannah's other hand, guiding them both away from the wall. “I am going to pull you,” Sophia asks, “Help you get a feel for it, okay?”

Hannah nods. “Okay. I trust you.”

Sophia glides backwards, tugging Hannah along as easy as breathing. “Right foot, left foot,” she instructs and Hannah dutifully follows her rhythm, each step getting smoother and smoother.

And Sophia grins at her, face lighting up at her success. “Now you're getting it!” She commends and Hannah feels a blush dust her cheeks that has nothing to do with exertion. A warm fuzzy feeling wells in her chest and Hannah thinks she would do about anything to keep that smile focused on her and-

Oh.

The feelings that plagued her throughout the evening all suddenly click into place and Hannah suddenly knows exactly what that smile is doing to her. Exactly what kind of crush has been blooming inside her.

And before, Hannah would have felt despair at the revelation. Another thing to set her apart, to make her a freak.

But standing in a room full of freaks, holding the hands of a girl who had been impressed by all the things that made Hannah Foster weird...

Maybe it isn't a bad thing.

#hannah foster #hatchetfield #spitfire #hf sophia #hf spitfire #hfff #hfff day 3 #gay awakening #fluff #nmt yellow jacket

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betterlyf · 2 years ago

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badbreadpuns · 2 years ago

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Soft Wings (1/4)

Characters: m!moth x f!reader Content: depressed reader, therapy, emotional support monster boy, coloring Rating: Lemon (first 3 parts sfw) Word count: ~1,000 words Content warning: intrusive thoughts (this story is about the reader recovering but this could still be upsetting.)

Snow crunches underneath your feet as the cold caresses your skin.

The trip to the bus stop is as uneventful as your usual Wednesday. No one is there when you arrive; though you welcome the solitude, being alone with your thoughts can be troublesome.

You browse social media on your phone while you wait. It doesn’t take long for the bus to come, wheels against asphalt announcing its arrival.

Jump in front of it.

Ignore it. It’s all you can do.

The bus slides to a halt, opening its door. As you step into the vehicle, the driver acknowledges you with a nod. You take a seat near the back, returning to your phone.

It takes around an hour to reach your destination. Stepping out, the bus drives off, spraying slushy snow onto your legs. The cold jolts you out of your thoughts. You wipe your feet on the welcome mat, not wanting to drag ice and grime into the counselor’s office.

Warmth hits your cheeks as the glass door opens. The waiting room welcomes you with calming blue walls and pleasant piano music. After talking with the secretary, you take your seat and grab one of the travel magazines lying on a nearby table.

Every Wednesday you arrive 15 minutes early. You bother Ms. Maxwell enough, you don’t want to make her wait too.

The secretary calls your name. Placing the magazine to the side, you head to the door, hesitating a moment before opening it.

A warm smile greets you.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon…”

You sit in the chair beside her, sinking into the cushion.

“How have you been?”

“Not well.” You scoot in the chair, as if trying to escape. “I had another bad thought at the bus stop.”

Worried eyes examine you behind wire-frame glasses. “They’re never pleasant, are they?”

“Of course not. They’re violent, evil!” You shake your head. “I haven’t slept well either… Everything feels like it’s getting worse.”

She picks up her notepad, scribbling in it. Her eyes dart from the book to you. “I think it is time. There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

Unease sits in your stomach. “Who?”

“He is a friend of mine who helps patients like you.” Her smile is soft. “Come with me.”

Ms. Maxwell sits up, beckoning you to join. You follow behind her as she guides you past other rooms. She stops in front of a door near the end of the hallway; printed on its window is the word “Saturn.”

She knocks, and a pleasantly deep voice comes from behind the door.

“Who is it?”

The door opens, and behind it is a tall, fuzzy figure. Periwinkle fluff covers his body, its softness calling out for your touch. Four strong, muscular arms sprout from his torso, one from his lower set placed on his hip. Wings covered in little white spots drop to the floor. Feelers flop on top of a head of poofy white hair, two obsidian eyes meeting yours.

He grins, toothy and earnest. “Come on in.”

You and Ms. Maxwell do as he asks, moving past him. Chamomile and lavender tickle your nose as you step inside.

Dazzling fairy lights line the walls. Shaggy blankets drape over plush chairs. A pile of stuffed animals sit in a corner, teddy bears and puppies and kitties galore.

This room is a sanctuary.

The moth sits on a particularly comfy bean bag, and you find your own spot. His wings shimmer in the soft glow of the lights.

“I’ve never seen your cute face before. What’s your name?”

“It’s…” You tell him.

“I love how that sounds.” Your cheeks warm up as he laughs. “I’m Saturn. Our friend here takes patients to me when they need my help.”

“Help?”

“Think of me as a living teddy. Well, not an actual bear.” He chuckles, the sound rich and pleasing. “I’m here to comfort you.”

“Saturn is my secret weapon.” Ms. Maxwell pushes up her glasses. “I save him for patients who need him most. Your stress and anxiety are especially high.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid anymore.”

The words hit hard. You take a sharp inhale, your eyes misting up. “Thank you… Really.”

“No need to cry.” Saturn sits up, coming over to you with a frown on his handsome face. “Do you need a hug?”

You sniffle, wiping away your tears. “It’s okay. Thanks.”

“Alright. You can tell me anything you need to.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “I appreciate it.”

“It looks like you two get along swimmingly.” Ms. Maxwell heads for the door. “You’re free to spend the rest of the session with Saturn.”

“Thanks, Ms. Maxwell. I like it here.”

She leaves. It’s just you and the big, fluffy moth boy now.

“There’s a table over there if you’d like to color. It’s a good way to relieve stress.”

“Sounds fun.”

Sitting up, you head towards the table. On it are a stack of coloring books and a box of well-used crayons. Saturn sits across from you, though it’s hard for him to fit on the tiny chair.

“I haven’t colored in ages.”

“It’s a shame us adults don’t color as often as we used to. It’s nice to be creative.”

You grab a book about animals, turning to a page with a happy cartoon penguin. Its big eyes look up at you.

“Here, have this.” He hands you a blue crayon.

“Blue?”

He chuckles. “Why not?”

Crayon meets paper, your hand gliding across the page as you scribble. Though the task is simple, it keeps you entertained. You hum an old theme song as you turn the penguin blue. Once it’s colored, you grab a yellow crayon, filling in its beak. Saturn joins you in coloring, picking a book with flowers.

An hour passes as you and Saturn fill pages with color. The door opens, but you barely register Ms. Maxwell’s presence as she steps in.

“How is everything?”

You turn away from the coloring book. “I’m having fun.”

“Good. I knew he would help.”

“It sounds like our session is over.” There is a hint of disappointment in Saturn’s voice. “It was wonderful meeting you today.”

“I can come back next Wednesday, right?”

Ms. Maxwell chuckles. “Of course, dear.”

#exophilia #moth boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster husband #monster lover #monster x reader #lemon #azure writes #f!reader #m!monster #c: saturn #s: soft wings

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