#i can feel it.. i can feel the hopelessness setting it.. the depressive spiral

[h0n3yk1tt3n]

The way I can feel all the wind slowly pissing out of my sails as AI gets more and more engrained into social media platforms and how opting OUT of this shit is getting harder if not impossible

I've been saying it for years now, but fuck you Instagram. 1,470 posts across 3 accounts and lord fucking knows how many stories that you're scraping for your shitty AI model and you're giving me NO choice in the matter. Tumblr needing you to click a button to opt out of third party sharing was one thing, but you hiding an opt out REQUEST under a LINK under a specific SECTION of your PRIVACY POLICY under the ABOUT section of SETTINGS that doesn't even work in the US and Australia (and is reportedly being taken away in other countries) is fucking abysmal.

I don't know what to do. Almost 1.5k posts to too many to archive or delete, and they've probably already been scraped anyway. There's no Nightshade for mobile and Glaze has convoluted work-arounds. I don't want to stop creating. I don't want to stop sharing what I create. But if my creations are going to be STOLEN to create shitty little mimcries, what the fuck am I still even on your dumb shit app for anymore? You don't respect me or what I do. Is there even a point to sharing art on the internet anymore? When it's going to be inevitably stolen and exploited while I can do nothing to stop it? Can't even fight back because I can't Nightshade (at all) or (easily) Glaze traditional art?

And not even just my art. Pictures of me, castmates from high school, my friends, my family, my cats, videos I've recorded with them, concerts videos that I'm still actively posting on my irl account. You want to steal my LIKENESS, the likeness of people I care about. You want to strip away every grain of personality and humanity in the world until there's nothing left but your soulless impersonations. In the name of fucking what? I don't even know.

Fuck I wanna cry

[starry-bi-sky]

tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid

okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.

It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.

(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)

There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.

It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.

Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.

Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.

He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.

At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.

This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.

Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.

Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.

Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.

("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)

Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.

Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.

Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.

Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.

Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".

(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)

Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.

He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.

Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.

Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.

At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.

He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.

Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."

And there it is. There's his out.

Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."

The ball starts rolling.

Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.

He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.

It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.

Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.

He breaks the lock by hand.

Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.

The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.

And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.

I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"

I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.

Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.

But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.

Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.

Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.

Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.

Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.

And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 9

I'm sorry for being so evil... Just kidding, here is a little more pain before it gets better 😘

Chapter 8|Chapter 9|Chapter 10|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 3.9k CW: Slowburn, Angst, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, depression, anxiety, insecurity, alcohol/intoxication, fuckboi flirting

You get to the hotel and check in, it wasn't crazy fancy or anything, but it was nice, quieter, didn't reek of sex and drugs. You got up to the hotel room and, maybe because you were somewhere that didn't remind you of all of the pain from the night before, you were able to flop on the bed and fall asleep. You slept without any dreams, not a healing sleep per-se, but you had caught up on the sleep you had lost from the night before.

You look at your phone, damn, you basically slept your first day of vacation away. Oh well, vacations don't need to be productive. You stare up and the ceiling, your mind wandering from what you should do, back to Lucifer. You wonder how his day was, he probably knew his next few appointments were canceled at this point, would he be mad or disappointed? Would he remember what happened last night?

You shake your head and growl at yourself, tugging at your own hair in frustration, 'Why do I fucking care so much?!' You got up and paced the room. You ran your hands up your face and through your hair as you walked over to the window, and pressed your forehead to the glass looking out at your view for the next few days. You saw a few restaurants, bars, and stores that littered the main drag, until the name of one grabbed your attention, and made you chuckle.

"Rock Bottom, huh? Feels appropriate for tonight," you say out loud to yourself as you change into more appropriate "out in public" clothes. You were feeling like a loser, but at least you didn't want to look like one. You grabbed your purse, strapped on some heels, and hopped across the street to the bar that felt it aligned with how you felt about life at the moment.

The bar was a dive, but it was not bad. There was a chill downstairs and a spiral staircase off to one side that twisted up to another floor with some flashing colored lights and some guys singing some sad and off-pitch karaoke. Yup, this was the vibe for the night. Luckily, this bar did not seem super crowded and you were able to find a seat with ample space over near the side of the bar to set yourself at.

The bartender saw you and nodded in your direction while they were finishing a couple of drinks. "Be right with you in just a moment, sweetheart," the woman said while juggling her bottles and shakers.

"No problem," you said with a tired smile. You watched the woman flip and spin the bottles as the customers in front of her watched with excitement. You loved watching bartenders who could do cool tricks, it was not a requirement for their job of course, but you were sure it got them more tips and it always made you hope that they enjoyed what they did. Or maybe they were just trying to give themself some amount of joy in their hellhole of a job working with drunk people and their bullshit.

Eventually she passed off the drinks to the customers, tossed her towel over her shoulder, and headed over to you.

"Thanks for waiting, welcome to Rock Bottom, what can I get ya?" the woman asked you. She gave off a "cool biker mom" kinda vibe, lots of tattoos and piercings all over her, a biker looking vest and short cropped slicked back black hair with one big pink streak jutting back from her right temple, all being held back by a red bandana.

"Just a long island iced tea, please," you said softly.

"Ah, one of those nights huh?" She said cocking an eyebrow, "No problem, coming right up."

You lean more on the bar, "What do you mean by that?" you say with a sly smile and a squint.

The bartender waved her hand, "I'm sorry, you're not one of my regulars, I shouldn't joke so bluntly right off the bat. Normally, the heavier the starting drink, the more sorrow the customer is trying to drown out."

"Hmm. Well, you're observations are quiet astute, as that is exactly why I ordered it," you say with a cocky smile.

"Well, the down on their luck do happen to be our target audience," the woman says flipping her shaker and bottles again, "May I ask what we are drowning today?"

You make a raspberry sound and then rub your face.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," the woman said to you.

You laugh, "No it's fine, just hard to sum up in a quick statement. Just... work bullshit and... I don't know... utter fucking confusion of my life and what to do."

The woman nods sympathetically, "Sounds like hell." She looks at you, you both crack a smile and laugh. She hands you your drink.

"Sure is Hell... Just... almost felt like I had escaped it for a little... But anyways... I won't bother you more with my bullshit," you say looking down at your drink and taking it in your hands.

The woman shrugged, "Hell doesn't got therapists, bartenders are as close as they come. Name's Brooklyn if you need anything else, sweetheart." Brooklyn said, flipping the towel over her shoulder again as she went to greet another new guest who had settled on the other side of the bar. By the way Brooklyn greeted them, they looked like a regular.

You sipped on your drink and people watched for a while. As the night went on, you ordered some food and a few more drinks, watching people some and go. The room started to fill up with more patrons.

At one point, you saw a young Imp couple come in and snuggle into a booth together, kissing and snuggling, happily tipsy and enjoying each other's company. You sighed, you missed Lucifer and the way he would hold you. You wished it was real, you wished you could figure out if anything about your relationship with him was real. It also still drove you crazy trying to figure out why you would want it to be real. It was just a job... right?

Eventually, some drunk guy sauntered up to you. 'Oh boy, here we go.'

"Hey hot stuff, what are you doing moping over here by yourself, you're to sexy to be sad," he slurred at you, leaning on the bar.

You sighed, turned on your barstool and kicked one leg over the other, "Actually, I'm just sexy enough to be sad, thank you very much. Also... just out of curiosity, does this tactic ever work for you? The whole drunken loser with a backhanded compliment shtick?" You cock and eyebrow and smile.

"Wha- pffttt. Wow, why you gotta be such a bitch? I was just wanting to show you a fun time," he said leaning more into your face.

"Oh ya? And what would that look like? A minute of disappointing fingering and unimaginative attempts at dirty talk followed by five minutes of lack-luster penetration, doggy style with my unstimulated, unenthused, bone dry cooch while you scream "You like that you dirty little slut? You like how daddy fucks your tight little pussy, babygirl?" before you combust and roll over saying you are too tired to even attempt to make me feel any amount of pleasure, let alone getting me off? That kind of fun time?" you say giving him a smug smile.

The man in front of you just stares at you slack-jawed, so mad and confused he did not know what to say. You smirk, kick one of your heels up onto the middle of his chest, "That little bit of fun public degradation is the most fun we will be having tonight. Now get out of my face." You say as you push your foot against his chest, sending the man toppling backwards into a few onlookers that parted to let him drop to the floor and flail. You get a couple of whistles, claps, and hollers as you turn back to your drink.

Brooklyn stood at your end of the bar with a big smile on her face, "Well then! I was about to get ready to tell him to piss off, but you seem to have already handled it."

You shrug, "Men like him know they have no chance with shit like lines like that. They know they are going to get shut down and honestly, they love being put in their place. It's a kink for them, even if they would never want to admit it outright. I did him a favor really. If he is able to remember any of that interaction tomorrow, he'll have jerk off material for weeks." You say looking at him still splayed out on the floor.

Brooklyn howled with laughter, "Wow! That's incredible! Hey, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"No, I won't do you next," you say, you and Brooklyn erupt into more laugher. "Sorry, yes, ask away."

"Are you a sex worker?" Brooklyn asked. You nod. "Nice! My ex-girlfriend used to be a sex worker and she used to be able to mentally bulldoze men like that, so I was just curious. It's always so fun to watch."

"Guilty as charged, but I'm off the clock for a few days," you say.

"Ah, very good. Doing anything fun?" Brooklyn asked.

You picked up your cup and shook it.

"Just drink away your sorrows? Sounds like a bummer of a vacation," she says wiping down the counter.

You shrugged and sighed, "I just... have some things I need to figure out. Just needed some space for a few days."

She leaned on the bar, "Space from what, if I may be so bold?"

You nod, "Ehhh, it's... not something I can talk about with others."

She shrugged, "Fair enough. I'm here every day if you change your mind."

"Thanks." You finish up a couple more drinks, happily drunk and numb, thanked Brooklyn and paid for your evening, and waddled your way back to the hotel before passing out for the night.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning you wake up with a hangover, which you expected, but it was worth it. You scroll through your phone for a while, but eventually you realize that you aren't actually looking at anything , just scrolling just to scroll. You sigh and stare at the ceiling of the hotel room, the thoughts of your issue with Lucifer drifting back.

You eventually feel the thoughts start to frustrate you and you start to cry. Why was this so hard?! The thoughts did not seem to want to organize themself into anything helpful, just stagnated in place in your mind, floating around like milk soaked Cheerios. Hells, you wish you could talk to someone, literally anyone about your issues, but you couldn't. You ended up getting up and pacing again until you ended up pressing your forehead against the cold window again. You looked out at all of the stores and people walking around, until your eyes landed on the Rock Bottom. You smiled, thinking about Brooklyn and the drunk guy from the night before.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in your head. Brooklyn, you COULD talk to Brooklyn! You just could not give her exact details like Lucifer, Charlie, the hotel, but you could talk to her about it in more general terms. Yes! This was the answer! Well... if Brooklyn was serious about being someone that you could talk to. It... wouldn't hurt to at least ask, right?

You quickly got dressed and popped back across the street to the Rock Bottom. You walked inside the bar, it was a lot more slow during the day, but there were still a few customers scattered around the downstairs area. You saw a young man at the bar, but no Brooklyn. You were disappointed not to see her.

"Hey there!" the young man called out to you, "Welcome in, how can I help you?"

"Hey... sorry, umm... I was kinda looking to see if Brooklyn was here. I can come back later," you start to turn to leave.

"Oh! No she is here, she's just in the back. I'll go get her for you!" the young man said before disappearing into the back. A few minutes later, Brooklyn emerged from the back storage room, and smiled when she saw you.

"Ah! Afternoon, sweetheart. How are you doing today?" Brooklyn smiled.

"Hey! I'm doing... alright... Hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say rubbing your arm.

Brooklyn waved a hand, "Don't worry about it, just doing inventory, earlier to do during the day when it's slower. What can I do for you?"

"Well..." you start, looking at the floor, then balled your hands into fits to get yourself to ask, "Did you mean what you said about being here... if I needed to talk?"

Brooklyn smiled, and looked at her watch, "I'm sure I can squeeze you in for an appointment, you good waiting for my lunchbreak?"

You waved you hands, "Oh! I don't want to take away from your lunch break! Plus, I don't want you to get in trouble or anything with your boss."

Brooklyn laughed, you looked at her confused, "Sweetheart, I am the boss, I can do what I want, and right now, I want to hear about what's got you sulking to my part of town and drowning your sorrows in my bar." You smiled and nodded, you don't know what it was about her, but you trusted her. She kinda reminded you of your grandmother, in the cool spunky kinda way, also maybe a little bit of how you used to be with your siblings. You waited about an hour and a half at the bar to finish up her inventory, and then you and her went up to a little balcony on the second level of the bar.

"Welcome to my office, now tell me miss... oh fuck... I just realized I've never asked your name," Brooklyn said embarrassed.

You laughed, "It's ok, it's (y/n)."

"Well alright, miss (y/n). What's going on?"

You start, without giving away exact details, tell Brooklyn the tale of the last several months, getting hired by a powerful person to secretly be their prostitute, the sex turning into nights of supports on both sides, helping them reconnect with their child and helping them achieve their goals, how they defended you against an abusive client, you left out the extermination fight but did mention that they were wanting to keep you safe during that event, and finally the night that brought you here. The whole time, Brooklyn listened intently, nodding and sometimes asking a clarifying question or two.

At the end of that all, Brooklyn sighed. "I can see why you'd be feeling overwhelmed right now. It would be confusing to love someone and got some drunk inducted, confusing confirmation of returned feeling while in a weird role/power dynamic with them."

You nodded, "Ya..." you blinked as you processed what she had said, "Wait... what?"

She looked at you and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

You stared at her, "I... I never said I loved him."

She nodded, "Yes you did."

You stared at her, "When???"

She smiled, "With every word you said about this person, how you treated them, how you felt about how they treated you... You do love them, right?"

You thought through everything, every look, every touch, every nickname, every night in his arms, every time he showed up in your room, the way he protected you, the way you thought of him when we were alone or with other clients, the way you felt being with him and Charlie at the hotel, the unbridled fear you felt at him telling him telling you he loved you. Why you cared if you lost him. It was all because you were afraid of losing the love you felt from him. The love you felt for him.

You loved him, you loved Lucifer.

Tears poured from your eyes as the realization sunk into you. You turned to look at Brooklyn, "Oh my god... I love him."

Brooklyn laughed, "Did you not realize until just now?"

You shook your head, the tears getting heavier, "No!" you choked out, your breath heaving, "I've never knew love could feel like this. I've never felt this before!" You start to crumple inward as the tears overtake you.

Brooklyn's smile faded, "Oh sweetheart," she pulled you into a hug as you sobbed. You tried to apologize and she just shushed you.

After you calmed down, you sigh, "Ok but... how do I know if he actually loves me?"

"He does," Brooklyn said.

"How do you know?" you sniffle.

She gives you a look, "Girl, how many guys that hire hookers introduce them to their daughters and then keep bringing them around their daughter and her friends?"

You blinked.

"And if that isn't enough, he beat up another client that hurt you. He doesn't just love you. He is down bad for you," Brooklyn smiled.

"And you're sure?" you ask.

Brooklyn nodded, "100%, on my afterlife, or may Satan take my bar."

You sniffled again and laughed, "Well, I wouldn't want Satan to take over your bar... I don't know him, but I get the feeling he wouldn't be as good of a bartender as you." You and Brooklyn laugh.

You look out from the balcony, thinking about how somewhere far away, on the other side of the circle, Lucifer, the King of Hell, was in love with you. Maybe thinking about you. Missing you. It made your heart ache, thinking of how you had run away from him, when you now realize he was probably just too scared to tell you how he felt.

"Do you think he'll be mad at me for running away from him?" you ask Brooklyn.

She shook her head, "If he is any man worth keeping, and if there really is that much of a power dynamic difference, he'll understand why you did what you did."

You nod. At this point, Brooklyn had to go back to work. You hung out at the bar the rest of the night, not getting nearly as drunk this time.

The next two days, you would go back to the bar during Brooklyn's breaks to talk through new thoughts and insecurities, and Brooklyn would softly but firmly refute each one. Damn, is this what therapy was like in the living world? Life would have turned out different maybe if this was something you had back then. Oh well, it's too late now.

On your last day, you packed up your room and went to say goodbye to Brooklyn, she gave you a hug and wished you goodbye. Telling you that you were always welcome to come back and talk, and that she expected an invite to the wedding if it worked out. You both laughed.

Soon, it was time to get int the car and head back home, back to the Lounge, back to Lucifer.

_____________________________________________________________

A little bit later, you arrived back at the Lounge. You got out of the car, headed up to your room to drop off your bag, then headed downstairs to see Larry and tell him you were back.

You found Larry and he smiled to see you, "Babydoll! I'm so glad you're back. How're ya feeling?"

You smiled, "Much better, thank you for being patient with me."

"Of course! Now, here is your rescheduled appointments for tomorrow," he said handing you a list. You looked through, and were disappointed to not see "Lance" in his usual time. You looked up at Larry.

"No Lance?"

Larry shook his head, "We called him and let him know you were going on vacation, and he said he would call back when he wanted to reschedule." Ok, no problem. You could get that, maybe he just didn't want to jump on when you were going to be getting home from your break. Ya, that sounds like something he would do. He loved you, right? You could be patient.

You were patient... as days turned to weeks, and Lucifer did not call to schedule with you. Every day you lost more hope, life slipped back into the way it was before you had ever known him. Cynthhhhia watched you from the shadows of the brothel, pleased to see your decent into misery as she started to get more well paying client's again. Sure, playing nice with the customers did pay off, but so did knocking Larry's favorite girl off of her groove. And the best part? No, one would ever know.

One day you looked out the window of your apartment and sighed, "Guess you were wrong after all, Brooklyn. Looks like Satan will be coming for the bar after all."

You wanted to laugh at the idea of Satan trying to run a bar, but all you could do was cry as your newly discovered heart was now broken.

Serves you right for thinking that love was actually possible in such a hopeless place.

______________________________________________________________

Charlie's phone rang, she looked over to see her dad's ID pop up on her phone. She scrambled to pick it up, she had called him several times over the last couple of week and he had not been answered. It had her worried, he had not done this since before his visit to the hotel that brought them back together.

"Dad! Hi! It's so good to see you call. Are you ok?" Charlie asked.

Lucifer cleared his throat on the other end of the phone, "O-Oh course! Why, why would anything be the matter?"

"Uhh... because you haven't answered any of my calls in weeks? Also you and (y/n) were basically here every day and now I haven't seen either of you..." Charlie waited for a moment, Lucifer struggled to figure out what to say. Hearing your name made his heart sear with pain.

"Oh uh... we've uh... it's just been busy." Lucifer said.

"Dad, did something happened?" Charlie pleaded.

"I... I'm sorry sweetie, I can't talk about this right now. I was just calling to see if you could go to a meeting for me? Please?" Lucifer pouted. That was not a good sign. Something must have happened, but now did not seem like a good time to press, not over the phone anyway.

Charlie sighed, "Ok Dad, on one condition."

Lucifer paused, "That condition being???"

"Just... just come visit sometime this week, come have dinner with me? Please?" Charlie pleaded again.

Lucifer sighed, he may not have you, but he did still have his daughter, he couldn't lose that again, "Ok, I will."

"Great! I'll see you later! Text me the details of the meeting. I love you, Dad."

Lucifer told Charlie he loved her too, then Charlie hung up, and turned to see Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Alastor, and Niffty all looking at her in anticipation.

"What kin'a scheme you cookin' up now, Princess?" Angel asked.

"Well, would anyone up for a little, community "Emotional Intervention" bonding?" Charlie was met with a room full of mischievous, sharp, approving smiles.

______________________________________________________________

You guys, the Cynthhhhia hate is giving me LIFE, I'm so happy how much y'all hate her. Keep up with the ideas, how should she be brought to justice? 😈 As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop! xoxo, dany (OMG there are so many of you!😍 Please let me know if the tag isn't working for you) Taglist :(red names are not tagging for some reason 😢)@froggybich @wonderlandangelsposts @glowinthedarkbones1150 @marydragneell @crescent-z @superdinosaurnacho @jam0001 @kyo-kyo1 @so-get-this-sammy @lilzebeth @kelppsstuff @loquacious-libra @pinkhoneydrop @luleck @writer-girl99 @lavenz @stormz369 @littleladydemon @soujiswife @melday0105 @luluxx118 @sseleniaa @futureittomainn @cktkat @zaneyyyy @uravitsy @liecoris @starlitvenus @hannahrose130 @elleofdragons @butch-medusae @concentratedconcrete @erosamasan @stranger-chan @aquaamethyst96 @lxkeee @holyspacething @hulyenl @leximus98 @lu-ferri12 @mixplara @katnisspeetaprim @rebecca-hvnstn @roboticsuccubus83 @nekemewlita @femboyfatalle @thelethex @cryptidghostgirl @snowlotr @bangchansdirty-slut @glowymxxn @mcueveryday @hotvillianapologist @oneiric-rotaerc

[millenianthemums]

every now and then i get the urge to mention just how dramatically better my life and mental health have gotten since i started getting treated for sleep apnea. it’s seriously night and day. for years i was getting more and more tired and depressed and hopeless. i was spending all day in bed unless i had somewhere i had to be. i could barely even get out of bed for work. i was walking around in a haze, never feeling fully awake. i was forgetful and confused all the time, to the point i was genuinely worried about early alzheimers. my emotions were fucked up too; every little problem would set me off and send me into a spiral of rage and despair. i was crying multiple times a day. i got confused about whether things i remembered were real or a dream; sometimes i wondered if i was actually awake at that moment. i was dreaming more often than i was awake, and the dreams were HORRIBLE. some of them still fuck me up to think about.

and now that i’m sleeping through the night, i actually have ENERGY. i wake up feeling RESTED AND RESTORED, where before i just felt worse. my emotions are under control, my brain works better, i actually DO THINGS in my spare time again instead of just lying down. i’m feeling so much better that i look back at those days and i’m kind of horrified to remember how bad it was, but it also feels so far away. i’m so so glad that’s behind me.

basically the point is, if you wake up feeling shitty a lot, if you’ve got fatigue and brain rot that never go away, if you wake up throughout the night and have headaches in the morning, if you relate to any of that stuff up there about how i felt, consider doing a sleep study. if your doctor is shitty about it, look up how to get another. there IS hope, there IS treatment, you CAN get better. i promise you can feel so much better.

[bubster3020]

ALBUM REVIEW #2 - Frailty - Jane Remover

This album was really cool, and I'm really happy I got to listen to it the way it was intended. I went into this album completely blind, not even knowing what genre it would be. While hyperpop was the last thing on my list of expectations, the record did not disappoint. It boasts awesomely creative instrumentals, quality vocals, and some really neat writing that at some points hit closer to home than I ever anticipated. The project dives into themes of being lost in the world, particularly after graduating high school, unsure about your life's trajectory and your identity. All of this culminates into an album that feels like you're partaking in the most fun and inspired downward spiral you've even encountered.

The opening track, "Goldfish," is one of the record's most relaxed songs, which both prepares you for it's lyrical contents and lulls you into thinking the rest of the album will keep the same pace. This was consciously done by Jane to cause uncertainty on what the rest of the project would sound like. It perfectly puts you in the headspace the album was written with, that being one of confusion. To contrast this, "Your Clothes" explodes with energy right from the get go, which truly sets the tone, being fast, loud, and distorted. As much as I love the idea of the first song being a bait and switch for this one, it doesn't quite stick the landing. The energy is great, but there were some odd mixing and writing choices that made me question how I would feel about the rest of the songs. The opening's guitars were too drowned out and felt quiet in comparison to the rest of the sound. This was coupled with some lyrics that felt out of place like "you're picking your berries, revenge is so sweet," which feels strangely childish compared to the rest of the record. Luckily, its only a small blemish.

Frailty is one of the most creative and innovative albums I've heard in a long time. The risks it takes are things I wouldn't even dream of doing, owing to Jane Remover's resourcefulness as an artist. This is no better demonstrated by the fact that no matter how distorted, loud, and aggressive the guitars sound, its all acoustic. Just because she didn't own an electric guitar while recording the album, Jane comes up with some of the coolest guitar tones I've ever heard on this. Songs like "Pretender" sound exactly like a heavily pitched down telecaster, yet it's just a humble acoustic and a boatload of talent. Another strong musical aspect is its usage of digital sound effects and 16-bit chiptune. Computer bleep bloops are all over the record, which aside from blending really well with the hyperactive synths and drums, creates a sense of feeling like a kid again. It feels like you're being brought back to a simpler time that you never wanted to leave, which does wonders in communicating its themes of growing up and discovering oneself.

This album keeps its themes very tight, with a clear focus on discovering your own identity and how turbulent the last few years of school can be, especially during a pandemic. Feeling like you're developmentally stunted, especially compared to your peers is a common topic, and one I personally relate to. Songs like "Champ" explore how the chaos of growth can often lead to depression because of hard it is to cope with change. The second half of the record especially feels like Jane is spiraling out of control, letting herself rot in bed as a means to cling on to whatever childhood she has left before realizing that it's not healthy to be stuck in the past. Halfway through "Eyes Off The Wheel, I'm A Star," there's an epiphany that while change is inevitable, it's not something that is inherently bad and it only hurts worse if you deny it. The album is very well balanced between both overbearing and fun songs, with the lighter and cleaner songs such as "Kodak Moment" feeling like a beacon of hope in the ocean of sadness. Despite how hopeless this project may come off as, it's ultimately a work of euphoria.

On top of everything else, this album is very well sampled and inspired, its soundscape reminding me of some Beach House records and at times even UNDERTALE's soundtrack. Even though it wears a lot of its inspiration on its sleeve, literally sampling songs from Pokémon and 3DS menu screens, it transforms them in so many unconventional ways that I am consistently blown away. There were multiple moments where I would recognize a style of music or sample and just sit there stunned because of what was going on around it. While sampling is pretty common practice in the world of EDM and hyperpop, I think Frailty not only pushes its boundaries, but smashes right through them. This record has an overabundance of creative decisions with only the odd misstep when it comes to mixing, and I think the record will only grow on me as time goes on. It beautifully explores topics of how hard life can be on the cusp of adulthood and the struggle is only worsened by both other people and yourself. The album ends with the idea that despite everything going on around you, life will work out and it will get better. No matter what, at the end of the day you're still you, and you're still living.

Favourite song: Pretender

Least favourite: Your Clothes

Score: 8/10

[skyfallscotland]

just started reading fear&flame and ur writing is so good!

there is just one thing I missed, so Remi snaps at everyone and then Xaden says shes a waste of time and then later she says she got very dark but what actually happened wirh her?

Hi! Thank you 🖤

Have you finished Fear & Flame? It's definitely in there and discussed overtly in later chapters, but I'll put a longer explanation below the cut for you, with a trigger warning for self-harm, depression and suicide.

Remi suffers from depression which got particularly bad after her brother's death when she was a teenager resulting in self-harm and an almost-suicide (for which there's a coda here). While she was stable for a while, being thrown into the Riders Quadrant exacerbated it, resulting in hopelessness and suicidal thoughts again.

She snaps at people because she can't help it, she struggles to control her feelings and this especially caused a complicated relationship with her sister.

In chapter five she is very, very close to committing suicide. I don't know how to explain it if you've never experienced it (and I hope you haven't and never do) but sometimes so many things weigh on you and all it takes is one moment, one trigger which can be so very small, and it can toss you into a downward spiral ending in a very dark place.

Xaden understands none of this in the first few chapters of the story because his own trauma didn't manifest in the same way, so when he's angry in return and calls her a waste of space, he doesn't comprehend just how damaging that is to her. He knows he's being mean, but he has no idea that she just almost killed herself, that she was considering giving up on that day.

It's never overtly said (because fantasy setting) but Remi is coded as autistic as well and struggles to control her anger or regulate any strong emotions. Not to go all science pamphlet, but people with autism are four times more likely to experience depression than people without and they're also more likely to experience certain symptoms, such as social withdrawal, obsessive behaviours, aggression and self-harm.

Remi's having a tough time. She's probably always going to have a tough time on some level, but that's life (even without dragons and magic), especially for those of us with chronic illness. I've been told I'm very good at making people cry (I'll take that as a compliment) but I hope it helps someone else to see themselves represented on page 🖤

[caffiend-queen]

Did anything good happen in 2023? Yes!!

Sometimes, we all need a reminder that the world is not in a death spiral. This is a wonderful article from the Washington Post that shows huge and promising developments and it's worth reading.

Research has indicated that uplifting news can provide an emotional buffer against distressing news and feelings of hopelessness — and even encourage optimism or action. So, in that spirit, here are some of the more uplifting developments you may have missed this year.

The WHO approved an effective new malaria vaccine.

In October, the World Health Organization approved a malaria vaccine — only the second time a vaccine against the potentially deadly disease has been created. The WHO said it expects the vaccine, which costs $2-$4 per dose and has been shown to reduce symptomatic cases by 75 percent after three doses within a year, to be available by the middle of 2024.

More than 600,000 people died of malaria in 2021, with children under 5 representing 80 percent of malaria deaths in Africa. The United States reports about 2,000 malaria cases every year, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says, with the majority of them contracted abroad.

Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, the director general of the WHO, said the announcement gave him“great pleasure. ... I used to dream of the day when we would have a safe and effective vaccine against malaria. Now, we have two.”

The FDA approved a groundbreaking pill to treat postpartum depression

In the United States, the Food and Drug Administration also approved a number of potentially life-changing drugs, including a first-of-its-kind pill to treat postpartum depression, which affects up to 1 in 5 women. The severe and debilitating condition can cause pregnant and new mothers to experience intense hopelessness and, in rare cases, psychosis — and it can last for years.

The new drug is taken once a day for two weeks and, unlike the existing treatment of an IV injection that may take as long as 60 hours to administer in a health-care setting, it can be taken at home — greatly improving accessibility, especially for parents caring for a newborn.

While experts say the drug may not be suitable for all women with the condition and won’t be able to treat all aspects of a new mother’s mental health, they argue that the drug is nonetheless a convenient and fast-acting treatment, and is particularly useful in the early days after a birth, when parents and babies start bonding.

Two sickle cell disease treatments gained approval

In December, the FDA also approved two therapies for sickle cell disease, a rare and debilitating condition that affects around 100,000 Americans, most of them Black. The disease causes extreme, constant pain and can drastically cut the life span of those affected.

The new treatments are both gene therapies that have been shown in clinical trials to stop severe pain crises for most patients: One uses a harmless virus to insert a gene into the patient’s stem cells, while the other is the first medical treatment to be based on the gene-editing tool CRISPR.

Both are intensive, expensive procedures — and require chemotherapy, which has significant side effects. But patients who have received the treatments have spoken of its profoundly beneficial impact on their lives.Jimi Olaghere, a father of three who likened the pain caused by the disease to glass shards sawing back and forth inside his veins, said that after years of being unable to sleep at night because of pain, he has energy again, and that the treatment has enabled him for the first time to plan for a future with his family.

We learned more about dementia and memory loss — and how to prevent them

Scientists also made progress in understanding one of the biggest health concerns for countries with aging populations — dementia, which can have a devastating impact, robbing people of the ability to engage in daily tasks.

While there is no proven cure for dementia, scientific research has continued to find that there many steps we can take to reduce the risk of developing dementia.

One study published this year suggested that lifestyle habits, including regular mental and physical activity, eating a healthful diet, and regular social contact were linked with a slower rate of memory decline. Another found that living in areas with more natural green spaces was associated with lower rates of hospital admissions for diseases including dementia, while separate research indicated that the use of hearing aids could cut the risk of cognitive decline by nearly half.

The FDA also gave full approval, for the first time, to a drug that modestly slows Alzheimer’s disease. While difficult questions about safety, effectiveness and cost remain, many neurologists say that having a drug that slows Alzheimer’s is nonetheless a milestone after years of failed trials.

After 20 years, countries agreed a treaty to protect the ocean

Human health wasn’t the only area to see improvements this year. Even as scientists voiced concern about the state of Earth’s health, there were some positive steps to protect the planet.

In May, more than 190 countries agreed a major deal to protect the biodiversity of the world’s oceans outside of national borders, after more than two decades of talks. The United Nations adopted the treaty in June.

At present, only 1.2 percent of the high seas — which make up two-thirds of the planet’s ocean surface — are protected, leaving large stretches at risk from rising temperatures, overfishing, pollution, mining and other threats. The deal will allow nations to start creating new marine protection areas in the high seas for the first time, although it still may be years before U.N. member states formally adopt the agreement and are able to begin the process of designating the new zones. Even then, enforcement may be difficult.

But the agreement has been welcomed as a much-needed start on the path to protecting 30 percent of the planet’s land and sea by the year 2030, a goal announced at a U.N. biodiversity summit in late 2022.

Brazil deforestation falls after reaching 15-year high

Last year, The Post published a series of storiesshowing the fast pace of destruction of Brazil’s Amazon rainforest under then-President Jair Bolsonaro. During his presidency, the rate of deforestation of the Amazon rose to a 15-year high, and those responsible for the destruction acted with impunity.

Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva returned to the presidency in January this year. His first six months in office showed positive signs, as authorities drove thousands of illegal gold miners from Indigenous lands, and the government said deforestation dropped by 50 percent.

There are questions about how likely the president is to reach his goal of ending deforestation by 2030, especially given government plans for a large-scale railway project and to pave a 540-mile highway. And deforestation isn’t the only environmental issue facing Brazil, which has come under scrutiny for its reliance on oil as it announced plans to align itself with a coalition of major oil-producing nations, OPEC Plus.

But European countries and the United States have once again offered to restart funding — which was suspended under Bolsonaro — to help end deforestation in the Amazon. Resuming the program would be a significant step for a rainforest that stores billions of tons of carbon and pulls millions more out of the atmosphere every year.

Even in a year of difficult news, moments of humanity shone through

While suffering across the world may have dominated the headlines in 2023, this year also reminded us that kindness and generosity exist, even amid crises and tragedy.

In March, after tornadoes devastated Mississippi, a group of Ukrainian refugees made a 16-hour journey to distribute water to victims of the disaster. Many had only just arrived in the United States — and still had immigration forms to fill in or job interviews to prepare for — but hoped to help a community they felt faced a struggle similar to theirs.

“When they stop what they’re going through to help someone else in need, that to me is the definition of love,” Corie Jones, the deputy director of Volunteer Mississippi, told The Post.

And in October, as police officer Arizbeth Dionisio Ambrosio was clearing debris after Hurricane Otis swept Mexico, she came across a woman with a crying, hungry baby. Ambrosio, who was breastfeeding her own 1-year-old, offered to nurse the baby and was able to soothe the infant — a moment of empathy that was praised around the world, and led to her receiving a promotion.

Ambrosio told The Post she didn’t consider what she did to be anything heroic or out of the ordinary. “It was what I needed to do and I did it,” she said. “When you are in a situation like that, you do not think whether to help or not. ... I felt peace because I was with the baby giving him what he needed at the moment

Find the full story here.

[ferretpoetry]

time and hope.

i read a poem by wilfred owen today. he put the phrases 'undone years' and 'the hopelessness' right next to each other, separated by nothing but a comma. and i know he was talking about war, but, well, life is war.

it made me think about how hope and time are intertwined, the same silver thread catching the light. when you hope, it is always set in another time. because your right nows are not good enough so you gamble it all on your somedays. but if you know you have no time left, if you know that tomorrow doesn't exist, either in any form or simply one that is different from your today, if you know your somedays will be made of the same material as your right nows- how do you hope? what can you hope for? when time ends, so does hope, i suppose.

i know this is supposed to end differently. but i don't know what i can say. read my poetry and you'll find it ending on a hopeful note every single time. maybe because i felt it had to. but really it's because no matter how badly twelve-year-old me wanted to be- no, to seem (be, my neglected child, always came behind seem; it was, at best, an afterthought)- cynical and nihilistic and apathetic, i ended up loving flowers and moonlight, stitching gowns out of the darkness, loving love itself.

there's a simple process to these pieces of free verse, normally: i start out with a thought, it branches out, i arrange them into coherent structures, and then i talk myself out of the spiral of depression or fear or whatever it is that comes on- which is why you see the hope at the end of them.

there's no spiral, though; just an empty room. so i have nothing to tell myself. so how do i end this with hope?

perhaps i could look at this another way. derive a corollary from my own logic. if the end of time ends hope itself, then as long as there is time, there is hope.

i don't feel particularly hopeful right now, but i do know that i have time. so perhaps the hope will come back. sneak in when i'm not paying attention, curl up next to me like a housecat.

oh. look at that. i did it again. twelve-year-old me would be disappointed. but that's okay. they just need a little time.

[violaceum-vitellina-viridis]

actually y'know what on the topic of my darling beloved @queerfictionwriter

i did fully intend to make a very gay post about her on our anniversary, but i was already in the trenches of migraine hell time by then and so all i managed was this, in case anyone missed it:

entangled really is the best description we've got for it, and we don't have time to really unpack all of the intricacies of all of that, but what i am here for is to wax extremely fucking gay about how much i love and appreciate twist

read more specifically so this is not a huge wall of text

look, i could go on for days about how much i adore twist. she's funny and she's sweet and she's petty and she's vicious and she's smart and she's loving and just -- i could go on, i really could. everything she is, even the "bad" things, i just. i love her so much. i've said similar before, but i lured her home a little over two years ago expecting i would get a new fandom friend, and i did! i absolutely got that!

but i also got a twin. a partner, my illegal wife. a cowriter and developmental editor. genuinely, i accidentally came across some kind of soulmate -- someone who has felt, from the beginning, like a home.

and the thing is, none of that has changed, it's only gotten more and more. and right now -- god, right now.

i mentioned in my last post, but i've suddenly developed chronic migraine. 60 out of the last 66 days have either been active migraine attack, or somewhere inside the symptoms. i haven't been a person, i've been a shambling pile of depressive episodes, emotional flashbacks, a whole lot of physical and emotional pain and ongoing crisis. my brain has been trying to self-cannibalize, and also eat anything and anyone i love in the process, and twist has not in any fashion been spared from that. during my worst moments, i have said some incredibly awful shit, implied even worse about her, and it's never been about her, it's always been my brain lashing out at the safest part of my life because i'm in crisis, but it doesn't remove the fact that it's happened. it's happened, and i feel incredibly bad about it, but the thing is that twist has gone nowhere.

there's been new boundaries, and limits, and changes, of course there has; she cannot be the only person dealing with me, when i'm like this, and when i have clarity (rare, for the last 66 days, but getting less so, in the world's tiniest increments) i know that. when i don't know that, well -- spiralling me is a lying whore and we're not trusting them on fuck all.

but twist has stuck around. she's had hard conversations with me, and she's helped me process a lot of what's happening, and she's encouraged me through the worst of the hopelessness about my health and situation. she's assured me again and again that being sick is not a crime, that she's not going anywhere no matter what my abandonment trauma thinks. she's helped me set up ways to cope -- a playlist of songs she's picked that are meant to remind me that she loves me (its title is literally Twist Loves You), pinned messages in discords, willingness to reassure me, tagging in our other loved ones, writing up a document so that they understand how best to care for me when i'm in this crisis. she's encouraged me to go to the ER, encouraged me to get therapy, let me whine very, very loudly and very, very much about everything.

she's been fucking incredible, the entire time, even when it's felt like everything is falling apart -- every time, she's there when i come back to the surface. and i don't genuinely think i can put into words how precious that is, how much it means to me, how much i love and adore her not just for what she does for me but everything she is -- someone who doesn't love in moderation, who is willing to love me like this, who is willing to love me even when the scared-animal part of me is convinced i don't deserve it. someone who loves like that at all, not just me but everyone she loves.

so yeah. idk how coherent this is, and i don't think it matters. i just. i love her so much, and i need to shout it from the goddamn rooftops because she deserves to hear it and everyone else should know how amazing, fantastic, perfect and wonderful she is. fantastic friend, fantastic partner, fantastic writer, fantastic editor, fantastic person overall and across the board.

[public-venting-zone]

I don’t feel good anymore. I thought my life was going hurt fine when I slipped back into some depressive habits. I can feel myself falling further into this well and I don’t know how to get out. I used to be able to get everything done on time but now I can’t. I used to be happy but now I’m not. Everything’s building up and my chest feels so heavy with all the stress now. I’ve started to feel numb again and I just want to go back to normal. I’ve been clean since the end of October but my brain is having bad thoughts again. I don’t want to make a mistake anymore. I don’t want to regret hurting myself again with just a new fresh set of cut for no one to see. I feel weak and hopeless even to the point where my brain is telling me to end it again. I don’t want to. I don’t want to relive all of those thoughts but they are coming back. I feel like I’m not enough for my friends and everywhere I go I get so much imposter syndrome and just feel like I never belong and like people don’t want me there. I thought I had my life under control again. I thought I finally understood myself :( but I’m spiraling and don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.

———-

Hey, I hear you. You’re not alone. There are so many other people dealing with this, each and every one of them has their own unique experience. Life isn’t a straight line, it’s a journey, and some times hurt more than others. You don’t need to figure everything out now, or by yourself. If you can, please reach out to someone you love and trust so they can help you through this situation. You’re not weak. You’re fighting. You are still loved by so many. You are not alone. <3

[heartshattering]

Tonight ended up being such a high anxiety night. I still haven't slept yet but hopefully I will soon. I think I figured out some of what I've been doing wrong and what I need to remind myself of. I'll dump my thoughts under the cut.

First, I know this is foolish but I tried to force myself to finish a piece of media that was triggering me. I had already read parts of it before and knew the whole story including the ending but I wanted to have it 100% completed for my list. Eventually I reached a point where I couldn't keep reading, and stopped. And that's okay. I had to drop another thing I was reading prior to that, because it was boring (so I picked up the triggering story because at least it was less boring so I thought I'd be able to finish it). I need to stop forcing myself to do things I don't really want to do, there's no point, I just have a perfectionist nature and like when I can say I finished something completely but it's not always worth it.

Next is that I've been freaking myself out, even when I'm successful at something. Because then my next thought is "Well how long can I keep this up?" and my mind already starts racing to the next hour or the next day. And then I give myself panic attacks from overthinking and putting myself in catastrophic situations that aren't fucking real (or even realistic to begin with). It's so damn ridiculous, I'm already setting myself up for failure before it can even happen. Yeah, I need to stop that, too.

I've noticed myself feeling super hopeless and I honestly do need to bring back some of my hopefulness. It really does feel terrible to just rot. It's only comforting for so long before it becomes depressing as fuck and makes me feel like I've undone a lot of my progress. (I know progress can't be undone, but still) I'm disgusted at myself for thinking it was "okay". Maybe I did need to experience it for a while just to get it out of my system and because I was going through really high stress but I feel so ashamed of how I hurt myself towards the end of March. I had a lot of 'recovery win' days, went back to feeling like a failure, but instead of picking myself up again, I actually started to treat myself even worse than before and let my habits get really bad. I want to avoid doing that again.

I read somewhere that you can't just collect wisdom, you have to use it too, so I need to get serious about using the coping skills I've learned about. And again, NOT let myself fall back into that fucking awful misery pit I was stuck in. I am trying to take things a little at a time. I have some positive phrases I repeat to myself when I feel overwhelmed. I keep trying to remember other times I've pulled myself out of spirals like this before. I'm really feeling the shittiness of it all, it sucks, I would do anything not to feel this fucking low right now. I really can't express how upset I am at myself for just having just given up so pathetically.

I need to get back on track with an endless list of things. I've been sleeping during the day so I haven't been able to get my dad to pick my meds up for me, and I'm going through another fucking IBS flare-up. I've been neglecting myself... you know, that whole stupid thing where someone is feeling better so they think they don't need their meds anymore, but it was their meds making them feel better. Yeah, I did that. And my dad even asked me about my meds and I was like "It's okay, I haven't been having flare-ups" and "It's not a life or death medication, I'm fine". GODDDD I'm so irresponsible with myself but anyway. I should be getting my meds today hopefully.

I also need to cut down on one med that worsens my IBS symptoms. (This one is okay to cut down on, because I have alternatives I can take that won't give me the IBS symptoms, and I went for weeks last month not taking this one so I really don't need it) And I also have to stop taking meds on an empty stomach without even any coffee, sometimes I wasn't even taking them with water because I didn't want to get up and grab water.

I want to go back to sleeping better. I actually get deeper sleep when I sleep with less meds. It's just that it takes me a lot longer to fall asleep, and my schedule has been all fucked up lately. I want to at least stay on the lowest dose that is still safe and works for me, and not rely on them too much. (I know this is possible because I was doing better with sleep in January and before my emotional breakdown towards the end of March, so again... just another thing I need to get back on track with)

And ugh, I just. Realize there are all sorts of things I want to do, that are totally everyday normal things, and that those are the things I should be focusing on. Like. I have things I want to enjoy (that I will actually have fun with and that won't trigger me). I want to keep watching and reading new stuff. I want to stay alive for my puppy. I want to take care of myself and feel physically better even when it feels like there's no point. There IS a point, I'm worth it no matter what bullshit my brain tries to tell me. I want to feel proud of myself for every time I resist a compulsive behavior. I want to feel what it's like to eat normally and sleep normally again. I want to create more stuff for my own enjoyment. I want to laugh and smile and be happy, not rot. I want the gift I got myself to come in the mail. I want to be fucking nice to myself instead of all the shit I've done to myself in the past to numb myself or hurt myself. I'm so sorry I treated my past self like shit, but I can't erase the past. I just need to keep hanging on and believing that I'll get out of this mess/cycle/pattern/whatever you want to call it. Just one little baby step at a time. I can and I will do it.

[amywritesthings]

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR COACH LEVI TO ENTER INTO MY LIFE AND NOW I AM RECEIVING AND I AM SO EXCITED!!!!! I had a lot to say I'm sorry here's my babbling under the cut.

first of all, obsessed with how you framed the injury. You can feel the immediate 'oh shit' with your writing. I felt SO BAD when there was pressure on her boot and it was instantly pain. This poor baby!

“Coach,” your lip quivers as you look up at her, you feel destroyed. Panic fills your body and your throat is burning. “...Worlds-” Part of you is humiliated. Sure, you’ve cried in front of Coach Tarasov before; during long sessions that never seemed to end, practicing jumps you couldn't land no matter how many times you tried, watching your peers excel on your bad days. This was different.

Loooooved this excerpt.

You set the mood of despair and hopelessness so well with how you describe going to the emergency room and the overall crushing spiral of one injury snowballing into missing Worlds.

I'M SO GLAD IT'S NOT AS BAD AS WE INITIALLY THOUGHT!! but it doesn't make it any less depressing for her!! you do a phenomenal job of setting up the funk that anyone would be in with this situation, and i think the scene you included of her watching the singles program to root on Mikasa was SO SO sweet. I'm already so obsessed with their supportive friendship. We all need a gal like her!

UGH AND SHE'S THE ONE TO GIVE HER LEVI'S INFORMATION TO HELP HER OUT!!! WHAT A TOTAL CHAMP! (and also thank u your cousin is hot, mikasa) I love that skating runs in their family and totally ties their lil canon aspects into this modern story.

TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH?

RIP GOODBYE ME

I'M FLOATING INTO SPACE

i am screAAAAMINGGGG HE WAS WAITING FOR THE CALL!

oh my god he's already on the ball and and curtness of his conversation is SO levi. i'm so freaking excited for part two. oh my god i'm so locked into this story!!! you did a phenomenal job, q.

Kintsugi - ch. 1

Summary: After an injury causes you to lose your spot in the World Figure Skating Championship your last hope falls into the hands of Levi Ackerman, a former Olympic competitor.

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: Injury, major themes of depression and hopelessness. 18+ mdni

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Starting off with a huge thank you to @i-lev-you for helping me throughout the process of making this fic and always listening to me yap about my ideas. This is my first chaptered fanfic and I'm very excited to share it~

dedicated song - dividers 1/2

You cry out as your hip collides with the ground. Rolling into a sitting position you pull your left leg up by the knee. Just resting your blade on the ice sends another shock of pain through your ankle and up your leg. You let out a hiss and squeeze your eyes shut. 

You refuse to believe it, deep down you know you just sustained a serious injury. You tell yourself it's not that bad.

get up.

walk it off. 

Come on. 

Your breathing staggers as you twist your body and pull yourself into a kneel, your good foot anchoring on the ice ready to stand back up. The pain is excruciating. 

“Stay Down!” your coach shouts as she races towards you. “Sit back down.” She demands, and you listen, carefully pulling your weight onto your left hip, carefully settling back down onto the ice. 

Coach Tarasov bends down, instructing you to extend your leg out. When you do she carefully applies light pressure to your boot, only nudging it a little to confirm her fears. Your hand immediately flies over your mouth, you curse and wince in pain. “Not good,” She breathes out “Let’s get you up and off the ice” she says, her voice stern and serious, you know now that it’s really bad, you don't want to believe it.

“Coach,” your lip quivers as you look up at her, you feel destroyed. Panic fills your body and your throat is burning. “...Worlds-” Part of you is humiliated. Sure, you’ve cried in front of Coach Tarasov before; during long sessions that never seemed to end, practicing jumps you couldn't land no matter how many times you tried, watching your peers excel on your bad days. This was different.

This was devastating.

Mid February, four weeks before the World Figure Skating Championship. It was just like any other practice. today you were doing triple toe loops and landed wrong.

You can’t contain your sobs as your coach helps you up. She urges you to hold your foot up while she pulls you to the rink’s exit. When you finally sit down on the bench you notice how tight your boot feels. Holding back your sobs causes you to shake as Coach Tarasov kneels in front of you to untie your skate. “I’m just going to look at it.” She tries to sound comforting, but you can hear the disappointment that laces her words, the acceptance in her tone. Like she knew you were done right then and there without even seeing it. 

Your panicked sob catches in your throat as she pulls the boot off, every surge of pain was just as bad as the last. You can't look, you keep your eyes on your coach. When she peels back your nylon sock she stops and stares for a second before letting out a sigh and dropping her head down in defeat. “You need an X-ray,” she says plainly, only confirming your worst fear. “You can't drive, I'll call an ambulance.” she leans back and requests an ice pack from the rink employee standing over the two of you, observing. You're only just now noticing he was there.

“Stay calm, we don't know anything yet.” You know she's lying. You pick your head up and see your fellow competitors have stopped to watch. Most look shocked, some seem to be showing pity. You lock eyes with your friend and fellow contestant Mikasa Ackerman, her eyes well with tears as she watches you. That’s when you finally accept that your dreams are ruined. 

***

You stare up at the blinding lights of the emergency room ceiling, waiting for the results the X-ray ordered to rule out a fracture. Arms folded over your chest, you simmer in the acceptance that everything you worked for your whole life is gone.

This was your first year qualifying and being invited to participate in the World Championship, you knew after your performances in the Grand Prix and Nationals that you had secured your place and a chance to take gold at Worlds. Competitive skaters everywhere spend their lives training and competing for the chance to get where you were, just as you had, only for one accident to take it all away from you and hand it off to the next person. 

You blink back more tears, easily warding them off since the initial shock of everything drained you. The uncertainty of your career plagued your mind. The excitement and determination to compete was gone, replaced with the dread of agonizing failure. All you wanted to do was go home and sulk. An apartment you rented in the city chosen to host this season’s training sessions with a handful of competitors. Everything reminded you of your loss, even the place designed for you to decompress at the end of the day, your apartment was a representation of the things you endured and achieved to make it to the World Championship to begin with, now it’s just a roof over your head to house you while you heal and watch your dreams slip through your fingers like sand. You're wiping away tears with the sleeve of your shirt as the doctor enters the room. 

He strides into the room, greeting you as he pinned your X-ray up and flicked the light on to illuminate the image. You pull yourself upright on the bed, even in this moment your chest fills with hope for good news. “It’s not fractured,” he says, pulling a pen from his breast pocket. You sigh out in relief. A fracture or break was the worst case scenario, and at least you’re safe from that. He lifts his arm, extending his pen out to the board and pointing at the areas of your ankle with speckled white spots “what you’re looking at is a grade two moderate ankle sprain, you have some torn ligaments” he explains, slowly circling his pen over the white spots highlighted by the bright glow behind the picture. “Based on your X-Ray, swelling, and pain level at intake, we’ll have you in a boot for two to four weeks.” Your heart sinks again, it’s not like you forgot that this injury took something from you, but you got excited too fast hearing it wasn’t as bad as you originally feared. You listen and nod as he goes through the details of the first phase of healing, just as you imagined, stay off of it, never put pressure on it, keep it iced and elevated. “After the boot comes off, you’ll start immediately with physical therapy. They will determine when you have the green light to return to your usual activities.” 

You stare at him, feeling it all come back. “Physical therapy? Isn’t that a little intense for just a sprain?” You plead, your voice shaking again. 

He points again to your X-ray, and those damned white streaks on your ankle. “This is not an injury to be taken lightly, I strongly recommend you stick to your treatment plan to prevent possible irreversible damage. Especially as an athlete.” He warns. 

You get your boot, and you’re promptly discharged and wheeled out to coach Tarasov’s car. They help you into the passenger seat and that’s it. You’re left to face this all on your own now. 

Before you leave, you hand coach your discharge documents and lean your head on the window. The sound of the pages turning as she skims through sends pangs straight to your chest. She rests a hand on your shoulder but you refuse to face her. “I’ll make the calls, I need copies of this and your X-rays” she said with caution. 

You cried the entire drive home. 

***

The three weeks of recovery before you’re cleared to take the boot off could be described as nothing less than hell. You barely left your bed for the first five days, you ignored calls, you didn’t take care of yourself. Your parents found out online, you only answered their persistent calls so they would stop worrying. Days started blending together quickly, when you weren’t crying you felt nothing, even your phone proved itself a shitty distraction. Your name was everywhere, the news of your injury and drop from the championship chased you on every app you used. 

After a week you deleted all your social media.

The start of the second week it dawned on you that the competition was just over two weeks away, and you wouldn’t be there. It made you sick to even think about watching it and keeping up with the scores. Several times a day you wonder how you would have done had your injury never happened. Would you have taken gold? Thinking on it now, if you knew this was the alternative you would have been happy to place at all, just to be there. You took it all for granted, high on success. 

At the end of the third week, you’re out of the boot and booked to start physical therapy, just this week you started eating and taking care of yourself again, you leave the blinds and windows open to let in some fresh air. Every step you take still reminds you of what you could’ve had, you walk with a limp. 

***

You decide to watch the Women’s singles program only, anything more would have only twisted the knife. You watch with a bottle of wine and a box of tissues. 

You feel genuinely happy to watch Mikasa perform, part of you was living through her as you watched. Mostly you’re happy she gets to experience this for herself, you know how much it means to her.

She placed 6th overall, you cried tears of joy for her.

***

You’re given an estimate of eight to twelve weeks of physical therapy. when you do the math, you can’t hold back your grin. Even the longest course of recovery would have you back on ice just in time for the start of the next skating season. You decide right then that you’ll be back on the ice competing in next year's World Championship no matter what it took.

Mid April you finish the first phase of physical therapy, three weeks of balance training taking a decent chunk of confidence from you. to put it bluntly, it was horrible. The pain was almost completely gone, it only hurt during specific exercises. Your balance was abysmal, any added weight beyond walking had your ankle shaking. You knew you could do it, you just had to make it past this part. 

Early May, during strength training with your physical therapist, your phone buzzes in your pocket. After your program you excuse yourself for a much needed break and check your phone to see a text from Mikasa, you catch yourself smiling. It’s been weeks since anyone reached out to you. 

Mikasa ⛸️💨

“Been too long, I miss you! Free for a quick lunch today?” 

You can barely contain your happiness, it shocks you how quickly you text back, letting her know what time you’d be available, and to your surprise it works out. You agree on a location and after your session you rush home to get ready, taking extra time to ensure you don’t look like a husk of your former self when you see her for the first time in over two months. 

When you approach her at the table, she stands up and immediately pulls you into a tight hug, gripping your shirt in her fists as she squeezes. You congratulate her on her placement in the championship and quickly you’re catching up on everything the two of you missed during your time apart. 

“So, how’s that going?” Mikasa asks about your physical therapy after you mention that you're about half way through, almost cleared to begin off-ice sport specific exercises. 

You look down, biting your lip before you respond “honestly? Not well.” You begin explaining how you’ve felt the past couple of weeks, even mentioning that you decided to return to competitive skating this upcoming July. “It doesn't feel like it’s enough. My ankle is still shit, it’s enough to gain back mobility but I can tell I’m not where I need to be.” Your voice shakes a little. Mikasa is a wonderful listener, she never breaks eye contact or interrupts, she lets you unload all your grief. “I know I can do better, they won’t let me push myself, my home based exercises are strict.” You explain. 

Mikasa doesn’t say much, and that’s okay, you were happy just to be here with her after weeks of seclusion, only leaving your apartment for physical therapy. It took weight off your shoulders to talk with someone about what you were going through, and no one could understand you better in this moment than Mikasa. 

When your lunch arrives the conversation dulls down to casual pleasant tidbits of information of Mikasa’s life post competition, eventually she tells you that she’s recompeting herself. You couldn’t be more happy for her. 

Somewhere in the endless chatting you can tell something is on her mind, she detaches from the conversation a couple times, staring down at the table before snapping out of it and apologizing. Eventually she excuses herself. “Sorry, I’ll be right back” she promises and makes her way outside. Your brows stay knit as you crane your body to watch her walk out until she’s just out of view. You sigh when you turn back, that was definitely odd, but you decide maybe it’s best not to press when she comes back. 

She’s gone for no longer than five minutes, when she sits back down it’s like nothing was ever bothering her to begin with. You’re tempted to ask but it couldn’t be too bad if she looked this relieved coming back. The two of you finish your meals and send your bills off to be paid, she grins at you from across the table. 

“What?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Mikasa quickly reaches in her bag, grabbing her planner and pen from the bottom and dropping it on the table, she quickly flips to one of the back pages and scribbles something down fast. “Here.” She says, ripping the sheet from its binding and sliding it across the table towards you. 

You raise a brow and stare at the page that’s text side down. After a moment you finally bite “what is this?” You ask, pulling it towards you and lifting it up, looking back towards Mikasa. 

“My cousin is a rehabilitation coach,” she begins, letting her excitement take over. “For competitive figure skaters. He agreed to work with you for me.” 

You have no words, you just blink at her. When you finally take a quick glance at the page you notice a phone number and email address written across the page “Mikasa, this is..” you don’t know how to feel, this came up so quick “I don’t know-.. I appreciate-“ 

She cuts you off “Please take the offer, I insist. He has an opening.” She says “Levi’s great, high success rate. I can get you more information if you need it.” 

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach “Levi..Ackerman..?” you breathe out, now staring down at the paper in your hands. You should have known he was related to Mikasa. Hell, you don’t even know why you never thought about it to begin with. They share the same last name. “He was injured at the Olympics all those years ago.” you think aloud, unable to take your eyes off the page. 

“That’s the one,” Mikasa beams “and he doesn’t like to talk about it. So maybe don’t start with that when you call him later.” 

You look up from the page at Mikasa “I don’t know what to say.” Truthfully you didn’t even know rehabilitation coaches even existed, your current coach and physical therapist never mentioned that as an option. 

“Don’t say anything. Just call him later, and tell me how that goes.” Her voice was firm, but her eyes were nothing but gentle. 

When the two of you eventually get up and walk out together you stop in the parking lot to give Mikasa one final hug before you split again. “Thank you so much.” you whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, pulling back and letting her hands rest just above your elbows, “and don’t be a stranger anymore.”

***

When you arrive home, you catch yourself staring down at the contact information that was given to you. Nervousness didn’t even begin to describe how you felt. This wasn’t just any coach, or another physical therapist. It was Levi Ackerman. He was a part of the best figure skating pairs, finally making it to The Olympics with his partner before the accident. 

You haven’t even come close to a skating rink since nearly breaking your ankle almost three months ago now. Working with a rehabilitation coach to get to your previous level of skating wasn’t even a fleeting thought. Hell, you didn’t even know those kinds of coaches existed until today. What if you were just wasting his time? Surely a coach like him is a privilege, right? Letting your nerves get the best of you, the contact info sits idly on your bedside table as you drift off into a world of ice and gold medals. 

***

The next morning, your dream fresh in your mind, you grab the contact from your nightstand. Ignoring the blaring anxiety, you dial the number without too much thought. The more you think about it, the more inviting backing out feels. The dial tone sounds, causing you to begin pacing your apartment. No more blaming the injury, no more blaming the physical therapy program. You couldn’t just keep sitting around, wondering about the what ifs when you were handed a golden ticket. You’d be crazy to pass this up, even if it was just a chance. 

“Took you long enough.” A rich warm voice answers the phone, stopping you dead in your tracks in the kitchen. How the hell did he even know it was you? How were you even meant to respond to a greeting like that anyway. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.” He states

“Uh, no.” You reply quickly, tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter to give your free hand something to do. “No I didn’t change my mind, I’m interested.” you cursed yourself, trying to sound so formal. This was the type of thing coach Tarasov always took care of, you were completely out of your element. 

“Great,” he says, you have trouble reading his tone but you try not to think too much of it. Over the phone you hear a series of keyboard clicks and your phone buzzes against your ear “I sent a couple things to your email,” did Mikasa already give him your information? “Go ahead and authorize your physical therapy records over, send me copies of your X-rays and prescribed treatment plan, and sign the following documents.” He lists off “after that, I’ll work up a schedule compatible with your PT, I’ll be in contact.” 

If you were nervous before there wasn’t a word to describe how you feel now. “Thank you, I look forward to working with you.” 

“Have a nice day.” he says in the same tone, your phone beeps to indicate the call has ended.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep (please let me know if i missed you and ill add you on to ch 2)

[excerptofrie]

My room in 2019!

I had a blow up mattress that I would set aside every morning so I can have more space to move around more freely since my drums took up most of the room.

These were simpler times. Depressing.. and I yearned for so much more, but I had a lot to be grateful for.

Thank you mom for allowing me to live here basically rent free, as I continued to spiral down a dark hole of drunkenness and drug use, trying to get a hold of myself. I was 25 and nowhere near where I thought I’d be at this age.

Somehow I prevailed. I no longer take drugs and I drink occasionally, and not like the way I used to. I stay coherent.

I’m really trying to make everyone proud, including myself. It’s a slow process.. I’m 29 and in 7 months I’ll be 30 and probably be living in another state with my partner and 5 pets.

Ps I just want to iterate that this doesn’t mark a happy ending. There’s still a great deal of consequences from my past that I must face to this day. I still deal with depression and anger. My life is still not very good. It’s super stressful and I often feel like my vital energy is being sucked out for various reasons and nobody is available to help me heal or to recharge. I’m a giver with nobody here to reciprocate it. Life is hard in a lot of different ways but there’s still those same issues lingering. I still have moments where I’m bitter and want to give up on all my progress. Feeling hopeless… but having these moments where I can step away from me and my life and its challenges, it helps to just write it all down and put it into perspective and realize I am going somewhere. I have been places. Things have been done. It’s not just the hole I see myself in often.

[jnaguilar95]

January 27, 2023

I am straight up not having a good time…

I don’t think I have ever been as mentally vulnerable as I have been feeling lately.

I am not even sure why I am putting this out in the open to begin with…I guess maybe I am hoping that other people can relate and won’t feel so alone.

I have always been ignorant when it comes to seeking help, I always feel like I can get through it alone and tough it out but lately I have been weak. Any little thing sets me off and it scares me.

I don’t want to dive too deep into my past but know that there is trauma there that has spilled over into my present. I overcame most of my past…I defeated it. But now it’s overpowering me again. My mental health is deteriorating, and I can physically feel it.

First…I am a hypochondriac.

Ever since I had COVID, I have had the worst health anxiety of my life. I promise you that this mental health condition is just as exhausting as any other.

I can’t sleep, I can’t eat sometimes, I can’t think or enjoy my life because I am in constant fear that something is wrong with my body. Any symptom or change in my body makes me spiral out of control. Since 2021’s Covid infection; I have visited the ER, I have seen doctors, specialists, they run tests, scans and every single time they say nothing is wrong. There are only a few times where they have found some abnormalities which ignited my anxiety even more. Still, I never leave a doctor’s visit satisfied, instead, I leave with so many more questions.

I am so tired of waking up and thinking, “today is the day that my body will give up on me.”

How can that mentality be healthy?

I am so tired of living this way. For so long I have felt absolutely insane. I try to talk to those around me but how much can they really understand if they are not going through it?

Every day is a routine…I check my pulse, I experience shortness of breath, I try to relax, feel dizzy and then research symptoms and panic even more.

I cry…I cry my eyes out because I feel hopeless.

My close friends ask me if I am depressed, and I always deflect the conversation because I am never sure how to answer. Am I depressed?

I think I have been for a while now.

Second…I made the wrong choice.

In August of 2022 I did something that I will never forgive myself for and I regret it with all my heart. If you are religious and/or are against it, I am so sorry. I wish it was something I could take back. 

I had an abortion.

Growing up, I told myself that it was something I would NEVER consider doing in my life. When my time came to be a mother; I would cherish the shit out of it. Believe me, it is still something that I want more than anything and I am afraid that I will never get the chance again.

I could give you reasons why it was the RIGHT choice to make at the time but that will never heal the hole in my soul/heart that it left behind because I didn’t WANT to do in the first place. But that’s a different story and it will be something that I will carry on forever. 

The guilt is eating me alive. 

The sadness too.

My baby would have been born in between April or May. And I would have loved him/her with unconditional amounts of love. Now my heart breaks every time I hear someone speak about their children, when I see videos of newborns, the happiness and pride in their parents’ eyes; I could have had that feeling not so long from now, I could have been the mother I wanted be but instead...a part of me died that day too. 

The worst part is, there is no one to talk about it so I put a smile on my face, I crack some jokes to mask the sorrow and pretend like I am okay with it all. But I am not.

I hope one day I can forgive myself for what I did because right now; I hate myself.

I have lost that spark I once had for so many reasons, but those reasons above have debilitated every day of my life lately. 

So, I decided to seek help…mental help. I don’t want to give up. I want to defeat my mind which is so powerful. I want to be at peace with my past and my present so I can focus on my future.

I want to let go of all the setbacks and negativity. I want to start fresh and seeking help is the first step.

Know that you do not have to go through anything alone, there is always going to be someone ready to listen, and I mean actually listen. There is no reason why you should feel alone. Seek help when you need it.

[themidnightcleric]

I

so update this feeling still lingers around but it's getting better. I have come to terms w being plural, called around for therapists this week, and am taking my vitamins and practicing Russian and studying chess and reading books again and setting boundaries sometimes and going on walks. I realized living in the amount of isolation I do, until I get a job or go to school or some other things that forces socializing, I have to call friends daily or use FocusMate to get things done and spend some time out of the house.

I'm also getting used to being off social media more of the time and not comparing myself so much. People have to commit and work hard to develop their skills to the point that often gets showcased online and I am much more content being private and working on my habits. I am also trying to respond to messages and initiate more.

I don't know if the fear and hollow desperate feeling ever fully leave but this week I also felt joy, and hope and satisfaction and some self forgiveness, and even remembered some good feelings from my past. No matter where you come from in life you can't change the past and wanting to is what left me so miserable and hopeless. I wished to be someone else entirely, to have a sense of home and belonging built in. But when I think about it my brothers and I still did have good memories, depression won't let me recall them as often as I would like. I may be embarrassed or ashamed or regretful about my background sometimes but this does not define my present moment or my actions here and now. As long as I am alive I can become more compassionate and loving of myself even if I do not ever "figure it out" to the point of having what I imagine others have in their professions and passions. .

I don't feel like I have to run from my loneliness or at least I am aware these emotions come from fear and the only way through them is to keep facing my fear and doing things I don't want to do.

We each get to define kindness to ourselves and for me I cannot be very permissive and allow myself to give in to depression temptations like laying around all day or doomscrolling or making excuses or even being precious about disability even if someone else on the internet says it's okay for them. When I do it is a downward spiral.

I have to work hard and it feels good to do so even when sometimes I push too far. I am learning my pacing and my brain still tells me I can take on more than is really possible but I will keep working on these issues and try to come out of myself to find friendship love and generosity. I am naturally self centered, hot tempered and stubborn, and I will never be the saint I imagined God wanted me to be, but I am also funny, intelligent and creative and I will love my life or die trying!

I know there is still a lot of emotions to face about my past and release and this is a lifetime's work. Every day I grow a little more perspective and kindness and acceptance and care a little less about being a cool idea of a person to embrace the person I already am and always was despite derealization making it feel like I wasn't.

depersonalization/identity

idk man I could have been a theatre kid or a band kid or done photography club, or gotten into languages or been in dance corp or tried out for basketball or even hung out with the punks and gotten into hard drugs or I could have stayed Catholic and righteous and found a husband and pumped out a million babies before kms or found the gays and gotten into drag and had found family or became a nature nerd and gone to birding summer camp and joined fish n game or even gotten some loser boyfriend but I just .....sort of kept to myself in my room in the suburbs with intermissions of hiking or going out with friends who never felt like real friends

and it feels like my life has been this endless blank placeholder space of non belonging like I didn't even get heavy into video games or fanfic or drawing anime?????

I didn't do anything??????? besides read articles online and journal.

like I don't know how to reconcile the amount of alienation I feel from the entirety of humanity bc my entire life up til now has been eaten by severe demotivated depression and indecision/confusion I want to leave behind

like who just....doesnt do anything and hides like that? was it because I was homeschooled? am I coward? was it the autism? the emotional disturbance? dysphoria? am I narcissist?

I feel so incredibly broken and worried there's no way out now. I have to find something to do, some group to join. I mean I collected calendars for a bit and did ballet and basketball and hyperfocused on being a good Catholic but at the crucial point of every commitment I just stopped wanting to do it. I lose track of friends. No one feels quite real, or if they do I am terrified of letting them close enough to see that I'm just faking my humanity.

that's why the PDA label means something to me, the demand avoidance gives a name to the gaping question mark of WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?

I feel inhuman and underdeveloped and scared of being alone forever. I don't know how to get past this insecurity and avoidance. Covid and automommune flares make it worse w brain fog. Like I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOURE TALKING ABOUT EVER. no I don't know the fucking Pokemon. No I don't remember high school. no I don't have a career. No I have never had a normal fun relationship, it's all been toxic or a fling.

I don't even really talk to my family. What do you say? Hi mom I don't even have a drug addiction I'm just floating again?

like I have lived in a nowhere dead zone of human existence for two decades. I don't exist. I wrote poetry comparing myself to Pluto, or calling myself an eraser. it was cringe and it remains cringe. I don't know what to tell you. I don't know how to become a person and make decisions. The only thing that's been consistent for my lifetime is heavy depression, and a dogged optimistic magical thinking that someday my life would just change, and begin, and I'd be someone with something to offer the world.

That's why I'm codependent. Trying to help or fix others is my addiction and the thing that brought me back to existence. Oh and scrolling online.

Giving that up, and trying to start my own life, I'm lost. I feel like my soul has been underwater somewhere on another planet.

Maybe I've conflated belonging with existing..that feels like a human thing to do. maybe the most human thing about me is the desire to belong even if it never worked out.

anyways I'm grieving all this and the abuse I put up with while dissociated, and it's like the ocean, I don't think it ends. This is the worst feeling and I don't know if it will ever leave me for good. It only ever lets up when someone holds me or massages my skin, bringing my body back into the sensory world, or in those brief moments of joyful imagination when I visualize someone loving me, or when a snake or frog crosses my path in the woods.

I should probably be institutionalized but I'm scared of that too.

what do I do to become real?

The last thing that I have hope for to help is top surgery.

all I want in this world is to be held, and cry until I can't cry anymore, and hear it will be okay, and maybe that its okay to let go now. to die or just give up trying to make anything of the past and it's pointless confusing misery.

[stealingyourbones]

The want and urge to animate an eldritch horror Danny Phantom is so strong and yet I don’t have the artistic skill or knowledge of particular types of animation to fully do the idea in my mind justice