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sadsapphicslut · 4 years ago

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chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!!

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

Chapter One

A Dead Brother

I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

“Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

❈

“Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

“Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

Don’s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

It rang four times before he picked up.

“Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

“Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

“Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood – that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene. My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

�� I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

❈

The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

#my writing #writing #original writing #original content #original fiction #creative writing #dark academia #tw death #tw drugs #tw mentions of sex #tw swearing #tw mental illness #tw medication #alo writes

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checaria · 4 years ago

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Hi!! I was wondering if you would mind sharing how you post your art, especially on Twitter, if not then that’s totally ok ☺️ Do you draw on a large canvas and then once you’re done, resize it? Or what dimensions do you use/How do you upload😭Because I’ve been having issues with my uploads forever and nothing seems to work. When I upload my jpg on Twitter even if its not heavy and the quality is good, the image is blurry and not sharp,plus I can’t figure the Twitter crop🤯Thank you soo much!!

hi! tbh i don’t have a set method of posting art and i dont think i intentionally optimize my art for posting on twitter either ahah it always ends up looking lower quality and more compressed than when i post on tumblr, but here’s some general guidelines i’ve seen for posting on twitter:

1. twitter algorithm will crop around wherever it thinks there is text, or wherever it thinks there is a face, or the most high contrast area in an image, ive seen people put their watermarks on areas they want their image to crop to try and get around this

2. twitter has image ratios depending on how many photos you upload in one tweet, this article has a list of each ratio so keeping your art in this size will help with the cropping

3. twitter image file limit is 5mb so i usually resize my artwork down from a larger piece - but only if it’s too big otherwise i just leave it as the original file size

4. twitter does not compress jpeg images anymore, IF it follows these rules; however, i almost never save in jpeg just to avoid any lossy compression in my file, there is also this twitter thread guide that goes over how twitter manages png files

so! those are some guidelines to keep in mind when posting art on twitter, that being said...i almost never really pay attention to it LOL;; i draw my art 300dpi on 11x17in canvas size because that’s just a poster size for print if i ever want to print my work later on

i save as pngs for web uploads and if its over 5mb ill resize it down by like 50% or so, but the file size is still usually big enough for twitter to still compress it...i usually just accept the fact that it will lose quality on twitter ;_; but i know some artists prefer that! or they intentionally upload lower quality images of their art so it wont get stolen or resold

i hope this helps somewhat! twitter really isn’t a great platform for artists unfortunately :’( i think i only have one upload on twitter where my art just so happened to fall under the jpeg conditions and twitter really did preserve it’s full quality, so maybe try following that!!

#ask #Anonymous

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fuckyeahasexual · 6 years ago

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A complete guide to how the asexual community is NOT lying about the pathologization of asexuality and how many aces(even young ones)have had their asexuality tried to be“fixed” and “converted back to normalcy”

Trigger warning : Conversion therapy,abuse

As if the so called ace “”discourse””( which has till now involved aphobes and exclusionists comparing ace people to nazis,pedophiles,white supremacists,slave owners,homophobes, ,talking over ace WOC by white people, telling ace people AND kids to kill themselves,victim blamig and gaslighting ace victims of rape, putting extremely graphic sexual content into asexual tags and sending sexual content to ace minors and adults who are are suffering from sexual trauma even after they told them to STOP ) could not get any worse, we now have these pathetic excuses of human beings accusing ace people of lying about their trauma and abuse just so that they can justify their harassing of ace people.

Im TIRED of seeing these “”highly intellectual people”” keeps repeating bullshit arguments so im gonna make this post addled with appropriate resources and links to handle these two topics:

How asexuality is pathologized

Can the abuse and trauma ace people go through when people try to “convert ace people back to normalcy” and “fix” their asexuality really be called “conversion therapy”?

This is gonna be long,but i hope you will stick with me though this because im going to try as much as possible to make this as source-fuilled and educational for yall. So here we go:

1. Has asexuality really been pathologized?

Short answer,Yes. Many mental health professionals had consideredasexuality an illness throughout history.There are many articles talking about it.Up till 2013, indicators of asexuality like lack of sexual attraction,sexual fantasies towards other people, lack of interest in sex etc were basically classified as Hypoactive sexual desire disorder in the DSM which was revised just to include that all those indicators WOULD be considered as a “symptom” of HSDD unless a person self identified as “asexual” which wasnt much useful since not everyone(especially young people) might know that they are ace and can be pressured by their peers into going through the “treatment” for HSDD .They did the same thing before they removed homosexuality from the DSM.

Heres the long answer :

Throughout history , asexuality has brought out bigots to talk about how “unnatural” it is and how it obviously is a “mental illness/disorder” bc experiencing sexual attraction is always considered an inherent experience to almost all living beings.There are many medical and psychological articles either directly referring to asexuality as a disorder or referring its main indicators like “lack of sexual attraction,sexual feelings towards other people”etc as a mental disorder.

But the most well known instance of pathologization of asexuality is the HSDD (Hypoactive sexual desire disorder).It has been in both The International Classification of Diseases and Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders both which are used by mental health professionals and psychologists to diagnose people.

There was a huge pushback against HSDD by asexual activists bc it categorized all indicators of asexuality like lack of sexual attraction,sexual fantasies towards other people and lack of sexual desire etc as a disorder.As a result, asexuality was officially given an exception in the DSM-V by stating that if a person experiencing all the symptoms of HSDD self ID’d as asexual then they wont be diagnosed with it.This seemed a good enough thing to do and acephobes keep bringing it up to show how “different HSDD is from asexuality” and how “The medical world has “”accommodated”” itself for the comfort of ace people” but this act and the whole concept of a “Hypoactive sexual desire disorder” are considered problematic and have been put through questions not only by ace people, but feminists and activists too . Heres why :

1. The person STILL has to identify as asexual to be not diagnosed.Asexuality still isnt as visible and well known of an orientation so if a person doesn’t know that they’re asexual, the DSM does no work to sufficiently differentiate between these “sexual disorders” and a sexual identity. so it could very well happen that someone who doesn’t know that they’re asexual is convinced by a therapist that they have a sexual abnormality that needs to be corrected(x) .Taking into consideration the fact that a lack of sexual attraction is still seen as a sign of “brokenness” etc , the aphobia ace people face from their peers,how sex is seen an inherent part of one’s relationship and the immense number of ace people who experience internalized aphobia, theres a higher chance of ace people being pressurized into lying about not being ace and being made to go through treatment of HSDD .

2. The asexuality exception is not included in the diagnostic criteria, but a different part of the text. The desk reference version, which is the smaller version most psychiatrists will use because the actual DSM is a monster of a book, only contains the diagnostic criteria. So, unless a doctor is very familiar with the update DSM, you could still be diagnosed despite identifying as asexual. (X)

3.The DSM is put out by the APA, an American organization and is not used internationally in ALL countries.The international appx. equivalent to the DSM is the ICD (International Classification of Diseases) where an exception of asexuality is NOT made like they did in DSM-V. So many countries where DSM-V is not followed are free to diagnose ace people with almost no repercussions.

4.There is till NO distinction made between HSDD and asexuality and all indicators of asexuality are still considered “symptoms” of HSDD. the DSM does no work to sufficiently differentiate between these “sexual disorders” and a sexual identity. so it could very well happen that someone who doesn’t know that they’re asexual is convinced by a therapist that they have a sexual abnormality that needs to be corrected(x) Just putting “All these signs are of HSDD unless a person identifies as asexual” is literally the same as saying “Being attracted to the same gender and/or being attracted to more than two genders is a disorder unless a person identifies as gay/bi”.In fact a very very similar thing was done to homosexuality in the DSM before homosexuality was deleted off entirely as a disorder.

5.Im not even gonna get into the fact that alot of people have pointed out how the big push to keep HSDD in the DSM came from the pharmaceutical companies who need this diagnosis to exist so thatthey can market a drug called Flibanserin and both of these thingshave been called out by both ace as well as non ace feminists bc studies showed it improved very little in terms of sexual satisfaction in its participants and has potentially big risks(x) and MANY women disinterested in sex(weather ace or not) were pressurized to undergo treatment of HSDD and use flibanserin bc of the misogynist belief that women need to put out more than care about their safety white taking it bc thats not the point of this post.

But just for yalls consideration : Just bc there is a disorder in the DSM doesnt mean that its legit.Female hysteria,homosexuality were considered disorders.As an amazing post here said : “until psychology stops operating in terms of “inappropriate behavior” and starts looking at patients’ experiences of symptoms as stressful and unpleasant, it will be an enforcement of ableism first and an aid to the mentally ill last.” . Unless someone goes through some trauma which make them LOSE their capability to feel sexual attraction and desire,i’ll consider any “disorder” which automatically assumes lack of sexual attraction and desire “unnatural”, as doubtful .

So yeah , asexuality still technically remains pathologized and ace people still are at a risk of being diagnosed and being forced/pressurized to undergo treatments which arent usually even that effective and have health risks associated with them.On to the next topic :

2.Can ace people call the trauma and abuse they went through when people tried to “convert ace people back to normalcy” and “fix” their asexuality “conversion therapy”?

First off, Read THIS And THIS. Now,

Short answer,Yes. Maybe they might not be under the threat of going through the EXACT conversion therapy which involves basically torture and is legal in like 36/41 states IN AMERICA but then again, so arent those gay people who didnt/dont/wont be living/going to those 36/41 states IN AMERICA but have/are/will be tried to be “converted back to” straightness by their peers.Any way in which non straight people are forced/pressurized to be converted into straight by so called “professionals” and “medical experts” counts as conversion therapy to me bc at the end of the day it doesnt really matter WHAT word you define it as when those trying to “fix” non straight people’s non straightness view those non straight people as someone who needs “fixing”.

Also, saying that ace people’s experience when their peers were trying to “fix” their asexuality isnt AS bad as what gay people go through when their gayness is tried to be “fixed” is…not a good thing to say.Trauma isnt a competition.Telling a person with a sprained leg that another person has a fractured leg doesnt make the first person’s sprained leg hurt any less

Heres the long answer :

Here is the thing.The most “well known” conversion therapy(and in aphobes’ case,the conversion therapy they keep bringing up to discourage ace people from calling their trauma involving attempts to fix them “conversion therapy” ) is the one which is legal in 36 or 41(The data keeps differing from diff sources) states in AMERICA ONLY and basically involves showing homoerotic images and videos to gay/bi people and inflicting some sort of violence/harm on them when them and/or their mind and/or their body shows any sort of interest on such images till they form an aversion to same gender attraction and other forms of torture.I described it as PG rated as possible but if anyone is interested and is NOT at the risk of being triggered they can read the whole process here(x).

Aphobes keep arguing that since no clinic advertises that they will “convert ace people back to normalcy” ,and even IF some ace person IS forced to undergo treatment of HSDD ,their experience doesnt matches the EXACT amount of abuse and trauma gay people go through during conversion therapy, aces arent “allowed” to call their experiences “conversion therapy”.Now , anyone with common sense and general morality will realize how bullshit this is bc aphobes are just putting their american centric rhetorics over ALL aces in THIS WORLD(bc they are ALWAYS considering the american conversion therapy)but i’ll still just prove how WRONG this argument is :

1.This argument is only AMERICA CENTRIC.Aphobes keep saying that since ace people dont go through the exact conversion therapy which is legal in 36/41 states in america,they cant call it “conversion therapy”.Now america is only one country.There are 193 countries in this world.The “valid”Conversion therapy is only there in america.But HOMOPHOBIA is there in ALL countries of this world.Now, If we consider aphobes’ argument as legit, then it would imply that any gay person who suffered through the trauma and abuse of having their identity turned into “straight” by their peers in any country OTHER THAN AMERICA CANNOT call their experiences “Conversion therapy”.That means all the gay people who faced torture in russia (especially in Chechnya)to be “fixed” cannot call their experiences “conversion therapy”.Gay people in Brazil and Jamaica who are tried to be “fixed” cannot call their experiences conversion therapy.I live in south asia,we dont even HAVE any special places dedicated to “convert” gay people.But there are many instances where gay people are hauled to the nearest “religious medical practitioners” who abuse and torture them for WEEKS to “cure” them.I guess those gay people cant even call their experiences “conversion therapy”.THIS IS HOW RIDICULOUS APHOBES SOUND.

2.Not every ace conversion therapy is caused by going through the treatment of HSDD : There are many ace people who have been told that it was their asexuality ITSELF that was a disorder and went through abusive therapies to “cure” it which led to some people ending up self-isolating until they ended up in a psych hospital and some people felt broken and alone after that(x).Many health professionals simply pass off asexuality as some symptomatic of deeper mental health problem and thus not every ace who might have been tried to be “converted back to normalcy” might have been gone through quite a rough treatment too.

3.Telling people that their trauma isnt “”really that bad”” isnt a good thing.Telling them that their trauma dosent really “”qualify”” enough to be considered “”real”” conversion therapy isnt good.Oppression and traumas arent a competition.The abuse and torture gay people go through during conversion therapy isnt gonna make the trauma ace people go through “better” or less severe.Telling women that “at least they arent being human trafficked and beaten by their husbands everyday like in middle east” isnt gonna make them feel better when they are catcalled or sexually harassed at work.If ace people are tried to be “”fixed”” by being forced/pressurized undergo “” treatments”” by so called “professionals” and “medical experts” , it counts as conversion therapy to me bc at the end of the day, ace people’s orientation is still being seen as “something to be fixed into straightness”.

So yeah, ace people CAN call all the abuse they go through to be “fixed” of their asexuality “conversion therapy”.Now that we are done, here are a few examples of ace people talking about their fears and/or experiences about conversion therapy which i havent provided already

If you really want to respect lgbtqa people who have gone through conversion therapy,try to make this world a better place for lgbtqa people so that their identity isnt seen as something to be fixed.Telling group of people you are bigoted against that they cant call their experiences of tried to be fixed “conversion therapy” isnt gonna do SHIT to help the community you think you are trying to protect.Saying that No ace person has EVER went to conversion therapy bc there are “valid proofs” is disgusting.

Asexuality IS a highly marginalized orientation and all your refutes against it WILL be debunked and shot down bc we have sources and real people’s accounts on our sides which is supported by many prominent lgbtqa organizations across the world.All aphobes have is bigotry and a bunch of followers who eat up whatever they say without applying any critical thinking skills to it.

#aphobia #tw conversion therapy #mod roma #ref #tw abuse #if you want this tagged with more triggers please tell me i will #i dont have time rn coz i gotta do something #imp

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petitprincess1 · 5 years ago

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My Heroic AU (Now With OCs)

Warning: Long(er) Post!

I’m back at it again with another thing explaining my Heroic Au. Figured that I should probably explain some of my OCs (even though the main four are technically OCs too, but shush). So, for those who are interested, click here to read my first post (for those who read it, now they got heights and ages) about my AU. I would say you don’t have to read that one, but it helps to get a gist of things. But if you dont want to, here’s the main idea:

Central/Main Idea: Mine are more on the chaotic good side of things than lawful because I find it more fun and they kind of explore the whole “if villains can kill and destroy and people just accept it, why can’t a hero do the same, especially when justified and with a corrupt justice system?” Basically, whenever a hero does anything like kill or destroy, no matter the reason, they are automatically seen as corrupt or they have a dying need to be stopped, even more so than villains. My Heroic characters basically exist to prove such a thought wrong…even if they aren’t the most mentally balanced people.

Also, I will be using imaged from others that I have commissioned/requested, while also tagging them. If they do not wish for me to use their drawings, then that is perfectly fine

Sayua Kobayashi/Cross-Boa (created by @little-geecko) Age: 34-35 Height: ~7 foot at full height, but can be about 6 foot 8 Job: Hero for hire/Archer Species: Naga (even though she doesn’t know how to shape-shift) Background: Very little is known about Sayua’s past, due to her being found as a baby in the middle of the forest…and her not willing to tell anyone about her background. Her parents, who were elders, often taught her to stay within the wilderness and often keep moving, due to them being nomads. They also taught her how to live off the land, how to defend herself, teaching her archery and how to create/fix her own weapons.

Her parents ended up dying, due to natural causes, when Sayua was 19, forcing her to live on her own. She didn’t really bother moving from where they last had made shelter, since it was in a pretty well-protected and bountiful. And because she didn’t want to leave her adoptive parents’ graves. Everything was pretty calm as she did whatever she could to take care of herself, until a year or two later someone had ransacked her place and her parents’ graves were dug up.

Sayua was able to track them down easily to a small town and had gathered information from people (who she snapped at few times from them taking too long to answer her) from where the thief seemed to be located. When she found them, it seemed like she had found them also having an illegal pawning business where they basically stole whatever they could from people, sell it off, and run before cops are notified. Needless to say, she was going to give them hell for disrupting her peace and interrupting her parents’ eternal peace.When she came out with a few wounds, bruises and only a fractured arm, as well as the criminals being taken away, Sayua was approached by a man with a white top hat that was very interested in her deed. Personality: She’s a very strong-willed woman with a fiery temper, while also taking absolutely no shit from anyone. if you ever tell her that her short temper and snappy behavior is from being alone in a forest for so many years, she’ll tell you it’s not, while also holding a sickle to your throat. Despite her behavior, she also is a natural leader and will often take the lead or make the first move.

She also tends to be very indifferent to what your status is and what you have down. So, it’s pretty hard to intimidate her, but she does have her limits. just hardly ever shows them. Don’t expect her to be terrified of people like Demencia or Flug because the moment they breathe to even say one sentence, Sayua will yell, “HOLY SHIT! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” …She’s impatient.

Despite all these “negatives”, she does have a soft spot that she shows from time-to-time and will often try to inspire younger heroes to work harder to be their best. …Does telling people that they will die if they don’t man up count as inspiration? Also, she may or may not be asexual. She just says that she would rather not figure out how snakes have sex. That and Lucius doesn’t make it any better with all the sex jokes he makes.

~~~

Lucius Wickes/Heartbreaker/Reaper (created by @skribblie) Age: 25 Height: 5 foot 8 Job: Hero for hire/Womanizer Species: Incubus Background: Lucius did live a pretty normal-ish life with his dad being a former demon from Hell that was one of Satan’s warriors, banishing all those that dare get in his way, and his mom being an accountant. He was raised and born in New Orleans, where his dad retired and met his mom. Lucius also met his ex-fiancee, Maria (yes, I know that Metauro’s ex-wife is named Maria. I made these backgrounds a long time ago…I am not changing anything). The two hit it off very quickly, due to Maria being immune to his passive infatuation ability and being more into just him, which he found absolutely incredible. He hadn’t really met anyone that wasn’t into him for simply being an incubus. Plus, Maria was also really into the supernatural, so that was something that put him at ease.

The two ended up leaving out of New Orleans to a smaller town that wasn’t even really on the map. Maria wanted to go there because she had always wanted to live a small, simple life and Lucius wanted to go there to propose. Unfortunately, neither got what they wanted.

Lucius refuses to say what all exactly happened, being vague on purpose to seem guiltier, except that her death was on his hands and that Maria’s last words were: “It’s not your fault.” …A man with a white hat also found him covered in blood, in the middle of a city that was littered with bodies, and had a thousand mile stare in his eyes. The only thing that made him snap out of it was of the man promising that he will make him atone for his sins. Personality: Lucius is a quick-witted smartass that really knows how to and when to get on somebody’s nerves. He has an extreme ego and isn’t afraid to boast about his best qualities He always looks for any opportunity to make an explicit joke or even to seduce someone. He will fervently deny that it’s some kind of self-medication and just say that it’s the price of being a demon. He also loves to play around or mess with people in any way that he can, even if it means that they may want to punch or kill him afterwards.

He’s the kind of guy that likes to cheat death or toe the line of danger, whatever gets his adrenaline pumping and unleashes a bit of the sleeping hellish beast within him. Whether that be through sex or even a bit murder, he’s all up for it. His preferred weapon is a hatchet or an axe.

Lucius can also barely control his demonic side and often keeps it under wraps. The only time he uses it is when in an emergency or when they both have a common end goal, which rarely happens. White Hat must be present when his demon side is let loose or else he’ll lose control fairly quickly and go on a rampage.

Lucius also often attends bars and even will be a bartender or even put on a show for the people. Anyone of any gender or configuartion loves him and loves them for helping him forget how much he hates himself.

~~~

Mari Belmont/The Marionettist (created by a friend and @redmoondragon-art) Age: 16 Height: 5 foot Job: Assassin for hire/Student Background: Mari was born without any powers or anything really all that unique. However, her father was researching a way to genetically engineer a hero. He didn’t really have any other test subjects, but Mari, who was 5 years old at the time, had volunteered to help him. Mari’s mom was against her helping her father, but after a long argument, she realized that she wasn’t going to win. So, she just only wished for her to be closely monitored and safe. There isn’t much to her background, since she’s so young, but the process to become what she is now was very long and grueling. She often remembers times waking up in the middle of the night in her test tube, almost drowning. Personality: Despite her age, Mari often is the mother of any group that she’s a part of. Always making sure that everyone is ready and taken care. She also had taken dancing and aerial silks lessons when she was around 10. It was just something that she always found interesting and graceful. Mari also loves any activity that requires any bit of creativity or using her hands.

Her powers also allows her use her strings like a tightrope, aerial silks (without even hurting herself), and that she can swing on. Not only that, but she also can use them to control peoples’ minds and make them like her puppet, which she often just makes them kill themselves with whatever is nearby.

She also is extremely playful and hyperactive. She will also defend the actions of her parents, especially to those that dare pretend they know better. She also attends White Hat hero academy whenever she has free-time. ..What do you mean you have to register?

~~~

Panna “Pan” Ward/Pandora (created by @lightpudding) Age: 10-12 Height: 4 foot 4 Job: Freelance hero Background: Pan was very sick when she was born, an illness that attacked at her throat. Luckily, she was saved, but it cost her her vocal chords, rendering her mute, excluding a few small, quiet noises. Her parents were pretty kept in the shadows, even keeping some of their life away from Pan. All that is known that they were into the dark magic and even, rumored, satanism.However, they made sure that Pan was given as much care and love that she deserved, even home-schooling her and teaching her a bit of sign language.

Unfortunately. Pan only knew her parents for 9 years, due to a random attack that happened in her house. She had no idea what was happening because her parents hid her away in a closet. When everything had quieted down, she found her house completely in ruins and her parents dead bodies. She also found a jack-in-the-box near their bodies that was latched shut with a note, reading, “Take this and defend yourself. You’re the new Pandora.”

Pan wasn’t afraid of the demons that lurked within, especially if it meant that they could help avenge her parents’ death. Personality: Pandora makes sure that everyone is okay before herself. It can even just be a random villain that she’s fighting. She’ll always come up to them with a small first-aid kit that she keeps in her box and makes sure they’re okay to go home. Although, a bandaid in a large, gaping hole in someone’s stomach may not help all that much. They still appreciate it though.

Her favorite demon in the toy box is a large creature that has hundreds of eyes all over his body, gnashing mouths, large, skin-tearing claws, and deep, timber voice that shakes the very ground. He has caused many deaths, made Satan himself even tremble in fear, created many widows, and has devastated thousands of armies. …Pan named him Lord Fluffybottom. He takes that name with great pride.

Pandora loves learning anything new and often will not ask for help, even if she’s too short to reach for something or has a hard time understanding. Pan also realizes that she is pretty much useless without her jack-in-the-box, but that doesn’t stop her from trying to help or fight, even if her hits amount to nothing. Luckily, not many people are willing to fight a defenseless child, even if she does take that as an insult.

Pan created the dress herself as a way to remember her parents, since it’s made from several pieces of fabric from their and her clothes. Not only that, but she doesn’t live in one place for too long and often moves from place-to-place. ~~~ I have more OCs, but they don’t have images and this going on for a bit long. I may make a part two. I hope that you guys like them and sorry if their stories may be edgy.

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nada-lovely · 5 years ago

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thoughts on queendom

lowkey forgot to make this post after queendom ended but im here now lol. Im gonna do this by group/artist cuz thats the only way my brain works. Also disclaimer i am a neverland miracle and elvis so i am going to be slightly biased.

(long post up ahead)

So starting with gidle... Their stages were soooooo goood. The stage presence in every single performance they did was insane and the fact that they went up against older more experienced ggs and still made their voice heard and unique is incredible. Soyeons ability to make the gidle sound when arranging songs is so cool. She’s so talented wow. That being said, i really wished they toned it down with their competitiveness. I love them but they really needed to humble themselves and i wanna believe that fundamentally that is what they lacked.

Oh My Girl. I love these girls even tho i dont talk about them often. the true underdogs of this program no one can change my mind. tbh i dont remember their first performance so no comment on that. But their destiny cover really blew my mind and their performances got better and better after that. also yooa representing them during their dance performance?! I lover her dancing so much and im so glad she was able to perform without the oh my girl image. just fantastic! I knew they wouldn’t win but they were number 1 in my heart. (Nothing but praises cuz they really were that group that captured my heart). Also guerilla is such a bop. Their stage is amazing and their vocals are on point as always. Shout out to seunghee for constantly bringing it. The only think i wish that queendom did better is show more binnie cuz i love her lol.

Lovelyz. Ok so i dont understand what the big deal was with everyone hating their brown eyed girls cover?! im so mad at yall for hating on a girl group who wanted to try a different image and ill never forgive yall for that. That stage was so cool. Their expressions were on point. Their voices were so fire. Jin did not wear that outfit and body wave for yall to not fall in love with her! Why were yall blind?! I forgot who said it but when one of the other girls said they were happy seeing lovelyz doing going back to being cute and said they should stick to that concept?? i was furious. An artist needs to grow and change. They cant just stay the same throughout their career. This goes for every idol. They are allowed to develop a style and change it up. And thats why im so happy they were given moonlight. moonlight is such a good song and such a good change for them. like did you see their excitement when they were talking about their stage? All those girls were so desperate for a change and everyone was keeping them in a box. When lovelyz goes dark i better not see any of you uglies talking smack.

Mamamoo. I am well aware of the pure talent these girls have and the humility i witnessed through this show made me appreciate them a little bit more than i had in the past. I remember reading an article in the past that they wished to be known as more than just beagle idols and they really did change their fate. If anything i am much more aware of how hardworking they are. Also can i just say that their cover for good luck was a delicacy to everyone. As an elvis i really love them for bringing attention to this song since people literally boycotted aoa when they first released the song. They breathed new life into the song and i will forever be thankful. Also lowkey did not like their last song

Park Bom. So.... tbh i didnt know why she joined this show lol. To me shes like.... a giant in the industry so to see her compete in the show was kinda weird. but im just glad she was able to make new friends. and im happy listening to her voice in all these covers she did! i really missed seeing her on screen. I missed boms voice in new songs. I missed seeing her endearing personality and heck yeah i cried when she was talking about 2ne1. I miss them so much! im about to cry while writing this.

AOA. i love aoa. so much. like damn. i might get a little biased in this section but whatever. I really missed aoa. Jimin said she was really happy being able to practice again with the members after so long and my heart literally shattered. They went on this show not giving a damn about rankings but thankful they had the opportunity to perform again and that to me was everything since losing 2 members and being uncertain about performing as 5. I liked that they had this mentality of giving it their all despite the ranks cuz they really showed what they could do and they were truly happy doing it. And maybe it is the bias i have for them but to me they did not have a single bad stage.

#quetzo rambles #queendom

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phantom-muses · 5 years ago

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major fucking trigger warning for:

rape, emotional abuse, pedophilia, general abusive relationships, suicidal thoughts/attempts and self harm

i gotta get these off my chest because i dont trust anyone who knows me irl to see me the same way as they did before after this post.

With valentines day coming up all i can do is relive all my trauma from my abusive exes and god fucking damn it its so hard im crying while im typing this.

i dont even lnow where to start rhis will be just a massive rambling mess because im a mess but i have to get this whole this off my chest or i swear im gonna end myself.

guess ill start in the beginning. when i was 11 i was getting groomed and manipulated by a 20 year old man. once i turned 12 he started asking me to send him pictures and you can imagine what kind. i of course being a naive little girl though he loved me and didn't know exactly why he wanted those images.

i started cutting myself around this time and attempted suicide for the first time

moving forward to 14, i had a crush on a kid from my class and he manipulated me into thinking he had feelings for me so he could use me for his own sexual gratification. he was the first guy i kissed and he would routinely sexually harass me in public to the point i broke down crying in the middle of class because i couldn't take him and his friends groping me.

again, more sh and attempts

15, first relationship with my first girlfriend, all was great in the beginning until we were alone in my house and i said i didn't wanna go further than kissing (due to trauma but i just said i wasn't ready) and she got kinda pissed off and our relationship went down hill from there and i was just left feeling like a burden every time i tried talking to her.

few months after that i started dating a drug dealer. he fingered me without my consent with his friend in the same room as us. he also took advantage of me one time when i was high off my mind and couldn't possibly consent haha....

16, started regularly doing drugs basically so i wouldn't feel as empty, i let one of my friends take my virginity on my 16th birthday party because i refuse to count the drug dealer as having taken my virginity, felt pretty fucking empty but at least i felt like i sort of had control over my body. until i started dating this foreign guy who also ended up toying with me without my consent but this time in public so i felt i couldn't really do anything.

after that whole catastrophe, i started sexting random guys i met online just because i felt wanted by them. one of them violated my trust and spread my nudes yeehaw aint that great. anyway hes not important, i started catching feelings for one of the guys i was just casually sexting, that was a bad idea, he and i sort of became a thing.

things were great for the first 1 and a half years, then he got hooked on heroin and started emotionally abusing me, made me feel as if i was nothing but a burden and hysterical whenever i expressed any dissatisfaction with how he treated me, he manipulated me into believing i was a bad girlfriend for feeling upset over how he acted. made it seem as if i was nothing but a nuisance. we became an on and off thing because he would randomly ditch me

i almost started cutting myself again after having been almost a year clean

im 18 by this point here.

i started seeing sorta this guy irl, by seeing i mean fucking. another mistake because he was horrible and he raped me and clearly had a thing for rape play because even before that he would like to pretend he was trying to keep me quiet which just brought back some memories yikes. he constantly would try to pressure me into doing things i didn't want to the point of yelling at me for not wanting to do them.

i started talking to another guy online who seened nice, gave me an excuse to break it off with my rapist.

the guy may have saved me from my rapist but he was even worse actually... he was only into how young looking i am, he liked 13 year old girls (as i found out a month ago) and the fact i look like im 14 when im 19 was just perfect for him.... he was extremely controlling, didn't want me talking to any guys that aren't gay and no women who arent straight. he said awful things to me... hes the reason i developed anorexia again after having been okay for 3 years.... he constantly talked about me losing weight and becoming skinny. he admitted to wanting to rape me... only reason i had stayed with him was because of how broken i was. he broke me even further, i had to get my medication trippled, i started cutting myself again and i attmpted suicide again, only reason im not dead right now is how high i was and i couldn't go through with it the way i wouldve been able to had i been sober.

i left him a month ago? i think? i have no idea. im just sitting in my bathtub right now high on xanax so i wont have a panic attack from these flashbacks im having.

i have decided im going go back on track in my ana journey. i havent gained weight but my progress has stagnated these past 2-3 months. ana is my only coping mechanism to not end everything.

#vent #may be triggering #anarexx #triggertime

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palukoo · 5 years ago

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so a couple months ago i relistened to w359 and made a 18000 word document while doing so containing iconic quotes, my reactions, feelings, et cetera. heres some highlights with varying amounts of context. (theres lowkey spoilers for the whole series btw)

""""i empathize too much""""

crazy how i still vividly remember walking outside [my old job] and to starbucks while listening to the spider ep... trauma

i mean i dont love it but it makes me feel things

GABRIEL THATS TOO ON THE NOSE

"let me have my badass space chick victory cocktail"

god like i AM team what wrong with handcuffs but I WOULD NOT HESITATE to kill hilbert for hera

the girlssss are fightinggg

THE SAD W359 MUSIC IS KILLING ME

like memoria who maxwell who jk jk

i love you renee minkowski marry me

local idiot's heart is in the right place

HARPOOOOOOONSSSS

lovelace lovelace lovelace loveLACE LOVELACE

"maybe she's some kind of clone thing" EIFFEL... this is day 1!!!

i hate these self sacrificial idiots

no no no not this music again ill cry

yall are so emotionally stunted it fucking hurts but damn if you dont care

literally how are they still alive

i want to hug her so much omg

alan rody shut the FUCK up im crying

rip zach valenti's throat

face the death reality via math

jacobi being a piece of shit

maxwell said lets kill hilbert rights

this is a kepler hate blog

minkowski thinking her emotions dont matter to the mission oh ho ho

"youre gonna straighten up" cutter they cant theyre not straight

maxwell and jacobi show up and blow up lads

"and you should really be more careful with your queen" KEPLER WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

wolf 359 stop making me stan these literally terrible people

FUNZO FUNZO FUNZO

i am caring about men tonight lads

theyre both awful sure go ahead have history

hilbert you interrupted their emotional moment they wouldve had a MOMENT

hera said im gay

ohhhh nooo interpersonal conflict makes me sad

hug minkowski rn

FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC jacobi and maxwell are iconic

minkowski how did you not kill him

how much do yall use the words "good enough" and "cant"

"are you an alien" GOD the Hints

"one of our... sexier jobs" vs "this is gonna said less sexy after that"

eiffel stop cockblocking them

y'all's choice of pronouns IS illuminating

PROTECT HERA AT ALL COSTS

aw eiffel... minkowski... communication is KEY

oh yeah THATS what the psi wave regulator is for.... SURE

hilbert read the room

JACOBI you can't just describe minkowski like that without giving me a heart attack

how many times have all these bitches almost died

SORRY ANYTHING THEY SAY I LOSE IT

oh minkowski finally flipped (VALID)

oh wait that fact isnt fun at all and im literally crying

LIKE sometimes you save someone's life at great personal risk only to kill her a little while later

minkowski cries to “back to before” from ragtime

i feel to many things about the gals here idk what to tell you i love them thats the problem

its gay and it hurts!

lovelace laughing at people who can and will kill her... hot

OH WERE STARTING LOVELACES SELF SACRIFICE ALREADY

they let lovelace say FUCK

OH WAIT NO I FORGOT ITS WORSE

THANKS FOR MURDERING ME WITH YOUR TEARY ANGRY VOICE

ouchie anyways gay or no but also gay

hilarious and sad at the same time?

MAXWELL dont be a bitch... i expect this from jacobi and honestly i actually expect this from maxwell too but i dont like it

NO NOT THIS MUSIC

BROTP BROTP BROTP

i cant say anything else im too busy crying

UGH I COULD WRITE ESSAYS ON MY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS THE MESSAGE THE TAKEAWAY BROADLY THE PERSONAL EMOTIONAL ANGUISH THE DESIRE TO HUG HERA ITS

im mad but thank you... all of you... explain...

stop stop stop im literally so tense gone straight from sobbing to freeze instinct

GOD I HATE ALL THESE SURVIVALS GUILT IDIOTS

OH theyre all about uncertainty... the what ifs... okay... ouch ouch ouch

give everyone awards for bolero

eris are you gay

she said gay rights and AI rights

like i know i know we been knew but goddard really is so awful

Hera stop narrating Lovelace’s ongoing existential crisis

HOW IS THIS NOT GAY (I know how it’s not gay but. Let me have this)

KEPLER stop giving Lovelace insecurities and existential crises

Team back off lovelace for the win

like not to be dramatic but her arc is beautiful

oh boy thats my girlsssss

THATS FLIRTING MINKOWSKI

god i love that concern for your gf keep it up minkowski

COMMUNICATION? WITH THIS CREW? BOLD

GOD angrey hera is great

you know hera is having the time of her life witnessing it

eiffel you just ruined their romantic moment

minkowski is gonna kill them

a much better gayer more altruistic light

WE’RE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT COMMUNICATION

WAIT I WAS BEING CANON DAMN I THOUGHT I WAS BEING CREATIVE AND PERHAPS OOC BUT IM IN THE CLEAR I GUESS

god hera has needed to snap at eiffel for so long

i can already feel myself about to get hit with the tears... the emotions

that shit hits different renee

The implications that Goddard like destroyed global warming omfg

it’s the moral grayness babeyyy

when it hits you with minkowski's shaky sigh first thing you know its gonna hit different

MINKOWSKI i need you to. love yourself as much as i love you

GOD the mutual concern they always have for each other is touching whether or not you think its gay. i think its gay

HERA WOULD YOU ASK A COW TO NOT BE A COW

oh of COURSE they cut coms first

lovelace is man, butterfly is quote, it says "is this flirting"

jacobi i need you to chill

but jacobiiiii thats lovelaces schtick

oh eiffel... you fucking idiot who gets really lucky sometimes

this game of chicken where theyre both chickens and kepler doesnt know any of that and each of them only know half

minkowski said im an ethics teacher now

who taught minkowski empathy in high stress situations?

yeah so i stay hitting the nail on the head

“kepler SHUT UP” is what brings everyone together

this is, como se dice.... kinda gay

this statement does not bode well for that

“Maybe less talking to yourself” he says to himself

ugh, to be Pop Culture Man™️

RACHEL i love you even tho I also hate you

Rachel if you make one more hand joke I’ll lose my mind

HER NAME!!!! IS HERA!!!! And I love her!!

i have a vivid mental image of post-series eiffel doing stand up like chris fleming style

"my crew has made it very clear through a series of looks and gestures that one more slip up and i am out, thats it, so im taking this job very seriously"

"minkowski is very overprotective in a weird, erratic way, like when your seat belt randomly locks and its like i appreciate what youre trying to do but im going 4mph in a drive way."

"so when something like this happens you have to at least consider going away for a long time and living on a cursed space station"

"you know how when maxwell and hera are talking ive never felt less needed, you know, like ‘cause you guys would be totally happy alone on a rock in the middle of a lake"

"this is the kind of body you look at and go he'd probably be ok in space without a space suit"

the whole "theater kids" video is actually him going off about minkowski

minkowski is too swole for her own good

jacobi im gonna need you to take the redemption arc more seriously

i love my crazy crazy bitches

this FUCKING music

GOD HOW DOES PRYCE JUST ALWAYS GET WORSE

she just like mutilated that man he is doa absolutely destroyed one hit ko

can you tone down the gay, sweetie

you did it you broke rachel and Goddard down to their bare essentials

GOSH shes so AWKWARD

so damn jacobi was just IMMEDIATELY ride or die for maxwell

this is too much for my poor baby heart

pryce & carter literally are just like lets do eugenics, lets do genocide

when hera says ill pull a yall and sacrifice myself for minkowski and lovelace

god like cant believe KEPLER got a redemption arc (well not arc but you know)

ah yes the most tragic scenes all take place at once :)

I HAD TO STOP LISTENING TO BRAVE NEW WORLD CAUSE IT MADE ME TOO CRAZYYYY

THE SCRIPT SAID IT NOT ME

i love space moms!

this fucking music ALAN RODY IM SUING FOR DAMAGES

like the document also does have a lot of like deep thoughts and meta and parallels and discussion of motivations but this is just fun random things i said

#wolf 359 #w359 #i think im funny #im not gonna do character tags lol #my post #gotta love my trend of telling the music to fuck off

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paradoxidolatry · 6 years ago

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Brotherly Love

@birdhole , @beatconductor a lil bit

TG: hey TG: sup

TT: Hey. TT: Not much. Lunch break at work. TT: Sup?

TG: oh thats sweet TG: sucks theres no free pizza in it when you work as a cop huh TG: i guess its overall kind of a step up from the pizza gig tho

TT: Right? Free donuts though. TT: But nah, yeah, not so bad. TT: Didn't get a chance to tell you about it but I figure Dave or whoever's already spilled those beans. TT: Kinda weird, right?

TG: yeah dave told me TG: donuts just like a real cop huh TG: still cant quite wrap my head around this cop thing tbh TG: i can see you working as a LOT of things but a cop? thats wild

TT: Yeah. TT: I mean, I figured. Got all that military experience, right? TT: But I didn't want to go back to the military. TT: Plus, working as a cop is an equal mix of 'keeps me active' and 'allows me to work around certain roadblocks in regards to the acquisitions business', so it was a good compromise. TT: Better than fast food and skin flicks again, at any rate.

TG: i mean i guess that makes logical sense n all TG: still fucking wild as shit to me TG: guess you can still wear a uniform even its obviously not as sweet as the fast food ones

TT: Yeah, I really miss that old greasy apron. TT: But what can you do?

TG: the grease just made your eyes pop in that special way ykno TG: chicks love it

TT: They fuckin do, don't they? TT: But somethin tells me you didn't message me to talk about the chicks missing my pizza funk.

TG: you sure about that? its a pretty great topic you could write a book on it become rich quick with your pick up tips

TT: Hey, I'm already on chapter 7: the Sausage Party. TT: But really though. TT: What's up, boss?

TG: nothing TG: i was just TG: thinking about you is all

> Heart, squeeze. TT: That right? TT: Cool, cool. TT: Was thinking about you earlier too, actually.

TG: oh? any reason or

[Dave txt @ bro] im watching u [Dave txt @ bro] > that chicken image

TT: Just, y'know. TT: Was outside on a smoke break and I saw a couple of pigeons hanging out, eating some sandwich or some shit on the sidewalk and like. TT: Got me thinking about you, and like. TT: I spent the past 13 years thing you're dead or some shit, and now you're alive and it's. TT: Just fuckin buck wild. TT: Pardon me for sound fucking sappy but it's kind of like a dream come true.

[TT > Dave: I'm behaving, dad.]

TG: ...am i a pigeon now? tho i do admit i would eat that floor sandwich(edited) TG: yeah its...its fucking wild huh? TG: kinda thought id never see you again even after TG: i got away and shit TG: idk why not like you up and died but? after looking for you and you werent there i dunno i guess TG: i thought you just TG: werent going to come back TG: ...you didnt even see my wings yet you dont get to relate me to birds just yet dude

TT: I mean, I saw them in a picture. TT: One of you and Dave and a bunch of trolls and some old dude in front of a candy cane dildo? TT: But also you post about birds and shit all the time, so I figured that was sort of your Thing now. TT: And ... well. I dunno. TT: Almost didn't. TT: I was just gonna stay on Earth, maybe pop in to visit every so often. TT: But then all that shit happened and Dave wasn't answering my messages, so I thought he was dead too, and...well. TT: I guess I'm, uh... grateful to the apocalypse for. I guess bringing you back to me? TT: Well, no. TT: But like, at least letting me know you're alive.

TG: oh...yeah thats TG: thats my sisters actually and uh..shit what even is grig? grandpa i guess TG: already know mr d after all TG: i mean... im not sure how i feel yet TG: i guess im sorta glad because TG: i mean it has been my embarrassing dream to play family with you again for a while TG: i want to be a family again TG: a lot TG: its just TG: hard

TT: Sisters, huh? Well damn, you got the whole family package with these folks, huh? TT: Nice. How long you been with them? TT: Yeah, I figured. TT: I didn't, and don't, make it easy. I know. TT: A lot easier when you were a baby, even if our folks were shit, just cuz, y'know. TT: Everything hadn'tt happened yet. TT: Hadn't started to completely fuckin lose my mind and treat you like dogshit. TT: But I mean. I dunno. TT: I'm not gonna force you or nothin. TT: But if you ever wanted to come backto the apartment and chill for a day, see how you feel about it? TT: That'd be uh. TT: That'd be really nice.

TG: 3 years TG: as long as ive been TG: away from scratch... TG: i..yeah i guess maybe TG: can you even handle seeing me get gay with dave tho

TT: God. You were with Scratch that whole fuckin time? TT: Fuckin sonnuvabitch refused to tell me what he did with you. TT: Anyway. TT: Handling y'all and your homogay is a small price to pay at the end of the day. TT: Even if it's still. TT: Kinda really weird from my perspective. TT: But I respect y'all and he takes good care of you, so I can't complain too much, right?

TG: ...yeah like ten years TG: kinda fucked up huh TG: ill..ill think about it TG: okay so im gonna be real with you here for a sec okay TG: i TG: messaged you because i was talking to dave and i realized i missed you and TG: that i TG: kindawantahugiguess

TT: ...Yeah? TT: I can do a hug, yeah. TT: Where are you? I can meet you, if you wanna.

TG: ...workin TG: at [coords] TG: dont arrest me mr officer these drugs are prescription

TT: I'll leave the cuffs in the car. TT: What happens off-duty stays off-duty, though, so. TT: See you in five.

TG: kay > Try not to freak out. Freak out anyways.

> Pull up by the curb a short walk away and park. > Look, you even pay for the parking meter and everything. > Step out of the car in your full uniform and approach Sock, one hand in your pocket, the other raised in a wave hello.

> Oh god, he really fucking is a god damn cop. That's so damn weird. God. > Not as weird as randomly meeting up with him for a hug though. Damn it that was the dumbest idea. > You wave back, trying hard to look cool and not like you are dying on the inside and failing miserably.

> You stride up alongside him and... ...well, now what, actually. > Neither of you are very good at this kind of planning, are you. > Damnit, Striders. "Hey." > Now just to... > ... > Open your arms up? > Yeah. That's how hugs happen.

> Oh god, he's going right for it.Oh god. Not even small talk or anything really bro? > Maybe that's better anyways because god know you don't know what to say. "Hey." > You take a deep breath and you...Go for the fucking hug. Squeeze that big bro tight.

> Aww shit here it comes and here he is. All up and hugging you. > Actually, that's uh. > That's real nice. > You wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a good, tight hug. > It's probably not the most comfortable thing, what with your radio strapped onto your chest and name plates aand shit, but. > At least for you? This is a fucking good hug. > (Don't you dare tear up in public.)

> You don't really care about the cofort level of this, it's something you've been craving for 13 years now, a little radio isn't going to stop you from enjoying it. > It's nice. It's familiar, like all the good parts of Bro you've been missing wrapped up for you in one big huggable form. Easy to forget all the shit for a moment. > But the moment does end and when you pull away you have to wipe at you eyes like an idiot. "Uh...Th-thanks."

> Aww, shit goddamn. He's teaaring up too under those glasses. > You swipe one knuckle under your shades, and you take a steaadying breath. "Hey, yeah, no problem." > Breathe easy, Strider. You glance up for a moment as you see a fatass snowflake come drifting down, then you look to Sock again. "Hey, you wanna maybe grab some lunch with me? Haven't eaten yet and it's still my break, so."

> Well at least you are both sappy motherfuckers now. > Oh. You didn't expect that. You think about what Dave told you earlier "Stay in control" and promptly decide to fuck that advice because shit. You are already here. You already went for it like an idiot. "Yeah sure. Gonna have Donuts like a proper cop?" > You make such a face at the snow. Ugh, you didn't really prepare for that kinda weather, fuck.

> You snort a laugh and give your flat stomach a pat. "Gotta work on that signature cop gut, don't I? C'mon." > You gesture behind you with a jerk of your thumb. "Hop in up front. You can pick the place."

"Hell yeah you do. You look like a fake ass striper cop dude." > You get into the car and immediately get the seatbelt. Doesn't feel safe otherwise. You don't really like cars still but you can't pin point why. It's just a weird personality quirk yeah? But you are used to being in one at this point of your life. > Just drive carefully. Please.

> You hop in and buckle up too, both pleased and a litttle saddened that you didn't even need to remind Sock to put on his seatbelt. > Poor kid. > Luckily, you are an impeccably safe driver, and the drive to Wherever is smooth and uneventful.

> Old habits die hard. > You feel kind of awkward in the car with him, it's too silent for our tastes. > You get out of the car at whatever this amazing food place he's taking you is. Fingers crossed for fast food- "Y'know kinda funny. Always figured my first frive in a cop car would be because I'm getting arrested."

> You snort a laugh. It's Sock's old favorite pizza place. > God you hope he still likes this shit. > Also this wasn't a Pizza Pimp before, was it? It was Gino's-- > Wait. > Ugh, well, maybe Dave's not at work. "If you're planning on getting arrested, you're doing this pushing thing wrong, kid."(edited)

> Oh the Pizza Pimp. Fucking score. Maybe Dave is there, that would be rad. "I didn't say I was, I said I didn't think I'd ride a cop car otherwise. Your hearing getting bad?" > You immediately freeze after saying that. Oh man, actually sassing Bro though? Please don't hit me.

> Dave is unfortunately not there, but he sure would love to.

> You catch that freeze, and you... > You snort a little, before pointing to your ears. "Too many concerts and phat-ass beats. Knew I shouldn't have gotten all up and personal with those speakers. Who knew the grown-ups were right about that?" > You smile, and it's a little awkward cuz you sure as hell have never been the smiling type, before you hold open the door for him. "C'mon, before we freeze our asses off."

> Oh. Okay. It's cool. It's chill. In a quite literal sense even so you get your silly ass inside. > A smile though? You haven't seen your brother smile in...far longer than you haven't seen him for sure. > That little scare knocked the speech right out of you though so you just awkwardly sit down at the next best table, suddenly really not sure how good of an idea this was.

> You take a seat opposite him, and when the server approaches, you order yourself a water instead of a soda. > Who are you, even. > You glance over the menu, humming softly. Some of these item names... fitting for a place called Pizza Pimp. "You wanna split one, or do individuals, or?"

> Who is he indeed. You order a black coffee instead of apple juice though, so maybe the traditional Strider beverages are just staying outside today. "Uhhh..Not super hungry honestly I don't mind sharing one." > You haven't been able to eat a whole pizza at once in a while but you don't say that.

"Alright. We'll split a medium and you can take the rest home if you want." > You let him pick the toppings too. This really is a strange Strider day.

> The strangest. Do they have nuggets as topping because you want that.

> They might have like, baked chicken, which is kinda like nuggets and also? Is Carro-approved.

> Do you think the pizza pimp doesn't have a nugget topping what kinda fool do you take Dave for.

> A big one. >:3

> LISTEN Nuggets have been added like at least two months ago. Cock Special.

> Goddamnit, Dave.

> Sock loves Dave and the Cock Special Pizza. Prepare ya taste buds Bro.(edited)

"One Cock Special with extra cock please" > Yes, this is exactly how you order.

> Oh your face. > You're so fucking proud. Dave sure is your little brother, and so too is Sock. > Bless these fucking kids.

"Hope you like it, it's my fav." > Both the pizza and you know.

> Yeah. Yeah, you know. "Sure I will." > Snort a laugh. "This sure isn't Gino's anymore, huh. You remember that place?"

"Oh yeah. Man..That's been a while. Clover gifted the place to Dave what? 2 years ago?" > Back when you were on a no homo basis. Memories.

> [Clover: nya face]

"Used to be your favorite, but maybe that's because it was free when I worked here. ...Clover?"

"I'm always a slut for free food but I still digged their shit later. Oh uh..Yeah. Little green guy? 4 of the Felt?" > Should..You now have mentioned that?

> [Dave] Oh no.

> There's this shift in your face. It's not a frown, but a certain tightening of your lips as you're hit with the full brunt of what Sock just said. "...Dave's...doing business with the Felt?"

> WHOOPSIES >Oh. Oh, oh, oh shit. You fucked up. You didn't really think about that when you said it. At all. Shit. Fuck. Damn. "Hahaha whaaaat? Noooo. Of course not! He'd never uh...Clover is just y'know his uh... Sugar daddy yeah. Cash money man, can't say no to that even from a greenie right?" > Well it's not entirely a lie. You are sweating though.

> You paw at your face and you sit back in your seat, eyebrows knit together tightly. > Looks like you're going to have to have a little talk with Dave when you get home. "...No, guess not. Desperate times and all that, right?"

"Yeah exactly! Haha..." > God this is uncomfortable. You are going to warn Dave but you already feel like shit. Fuck. "Don't...Don't hurt him okay?" > There's fear in your eyes now. Not for you but for your boyfriend, which is so much worse in your eyes.

> That snaps you Right out of your bad thought spiral and you quickly wave your hand. "Hey, no, no. Not gonna hurt him. It's chill." > There's that smile again, even if it's uneasy and a bit green around the gills. Your brother and the Felt... "Really. Just surprised he hadn't mentioned it before now."

> [Dave] GUESS WHY.

" 'kay..." > He probably hadn't mentioned it for a reason. You couldn't have known Dave wasn't supposed to do business with the Felt but you still feel like shit. It makes sense in hindsight and considering your history of course but...You just plain didn't know. > The Pizza arrives but you suddenly don't feel very hungry at all, sipping on you coffee awkwardly instead.

> You're, similarly, not hungry, but you've got to salvage this. Not telling when or if Sock will agree to see you again after this. "Sorry, I just... Y'know, getting offered a gift by those guys. If they had snatched Dave too..." > You shake your head, and sigh it off. Out with the bad. "But they didn't, and that's that. So." > You take up a slice of the pizza and you point is casually at Sock, an eyebrow quirked. "What're you out there peddling?"

> Oh. You'd really rather not follow that line of thought, yeah. Smooth topic change. "Dude, don't think I should be discussing that with a cop in a pizzeria. Mr D would murder me man."

"Hey." > You make a show of taking off your badge and laying it upside down on the table. "Off-duty, not a cop. So is it the good shit, or is it like, oregano in a dimebag being passed off as weed."

"We're still in public man." > And you don't want to piss off your Dad on top of the shit you just pulled.

"Yeah, yeah. Weren't you in public anyway?" > You chuckle a little and you point toward the kitchen area. "Your big bro used to sell shitty dimebags out of there, way back. Dealt to all the line cooks."

" Course you did." > You roll your eyes behind your shades. "What you want an inventory list? Okay I'll just tell you my favorite product aight? Kinder Überraschungseier......The surprise is Cocaine." > Huh, sure did slip into your mother tongue there. Welp..

> Okay. You actually laugh then. "You're selling Kinder Überraschungseier full of Cocaine. Shut the fuck up, seriously?" > You're nodding approvingly now. "That's a fucking great idea. Where the fuck'd you get the chocolates, though? Make them yourself?"

> That makes you feel..really proud? Huh. You can't stop the big dorky grin from spreading on your face. "Best idea I ever had, honestly. I'm importing them from earth, duh. Along with a bunch of other banned sweets and shit. Who the fuck thought peeps are illegal anyways?"

> You balk at that and you laugh again. "Peeps are illegal here-- wait, shit, right." > Smack your forehead. "That's my job to know that now. Wow, fuckin fire me now."

"Maybe I should show you my stock, just as a reminder. A fucking lot of dumb shit is. Fucking Lattes were banned man. Until the King unbanned them just for Jude which is honestly so fucking stupid. Way to play favorite, just like royalty should am I right? Not that I'm complaining, love me a big fat Latte." > Man it's...Nice to be able to make that kind of shit tier level german dick joke and to know you're gonna be understood just fine.

> You snort your water and you pull a face,but you're clearly goofing around a loving it. "Fucking nasty, dude. I don't need to hear about your love of big hot fuckin Lattes."

"Aren't you glad the prospitian monarchy digs a steaming hot Latte too? What a life that would be otherwise." > You snort yourself.

"Jesus christ. Fuckin whities, dude." > You stuff some pizza in your mouth and you talk withyour mouth full like the fat nasty trash you are. "Can you believe I have to work with them? Like what the fuck."

"The Queen gives me the creeps with her I love everyone bull. And the King seems like a huge fucking idiot so...Congrats man. Jackpot."

"Not had the chance to meet either, but this is the closest I've gotten to infiltrating the corrupt government yet. Maybe if I keep my shit up, I can finally overthrow them from the inside." > You are entirely dead seriouus.

"What's the masterplan? Shoot them in public?" > You aren't but you also don't mind the topic. Not a fan of these guys.

"Nah, nah, nothing like that. Too messy. Besides." > You gesture at the scar that runs oveer your eyes. "Never been a fan of guns."

"I know." > Hell maybe you should be grateful he ain't. Swords fucked you over bad enough. "Seems like a popular approach is all. Like historically or whatever. But I guess you gotta go for something less stale huh?"

"Of course. Flashy's the only way to be when you're taking out a corrupt system of government."

"Looking forwards to the show Bro." > Except you hope he's fucking joking.

> You totally fucking aren't. > You toss him a wink, which of course he can't see all that well behind your shades. "Hope it's a good one. You gonna eat any pizza, lil bro?"

"Oh, right." > You finally grab a piece too. "How's the Cock Special?"

> Stuff the rest of your piece into your mouth and brush the crumbs off of your fingers. "It's not big hot Latte, but it's nice and tasty all up in my mouth, so it'll do."

"I mean we can grab a Latte next time-" > Did you just say next time. Did you just imply you want to meet up like this again? Shit. > Stuff your mouth with Pizza real quick.

> Oh. > Oh... That makes yourr heart do the smiley emote. > You grin a liittle bit about that and you say, voice kinda soft, "Yeah... alright. I'd like that."

"Me too...I think." > If you don't hurt my boyfriend tonight that is, is what you think.

> Don't you worry, Sock. Not gonna hurt your boyfriend tonight. > You're not gonna be home, so Dave gets to go unhurt for another night.

> Or any other night Bro.(edited) > Or day, or ever:

> Well, at least you'll try to keep your cool when you talk to Dave about it later.

> That's a good start.

> Fuck yeah. Before you all finish up here, you nod back to the streets now lightly coat with snow. "You going back to your corner, right? You need a jacket?"

"I mean, I'll live..." > But it's pretty obvious that you don't have any especially warm clothes on you, you know like an idiot.

"Yeah, and you'll get sick, doofus." > You shrug off your jacket--it's a plain black windbreaker, while you wait for your city issue polcie jacket to come in--and you ball it up, handing it over to him. "Here."

> You open your mouth to respond but the Jacket is already in your hands. Oh. That's..Oh. > Is that what it's like to have a caring older brother? "Thanks..." > The Jacket is far too big for you and smells like Bro. It's a weird feeling to put it on. Like a hug you can wear. > Your heart is doing several emotions.

"Hey, no sweat. No good to go out there to work if you're just gonna freeze to death, yeah?" > You have the server bring you all a box for the leftovers, and you give those to him, too. > You stand from the stand and stretch. "Alright, my lunch is about over. You ready to go?

"Uh, yeah." > You are still trying to sort your feelings over all of this. It's weird. It's nice. > It's what you wanted all along. > Except for the part where you are scared about Dave. > You get up too feeling like a huge fool.

> You, very very carefully, put your hand on his back and lead him out back into the cold. > Look to him, then to your car. "Back to tthe same corner? Or you got anywhere else you need to be?"

> You tense up just a little at the touch but let it happen anyways. "Y-yeah same place." > You just get into the car quickly to cut off the awkward moment. Not without putting on your seatbelt of course.

> Always seatbelt first, kid! > You buckle in and drive him back to the street corner you found him on, putting the car into park but not getting out. "Alright. Don't get into any trouble, alright? Oh, and patrol comes past here in about 30 minutes, so be cool when they pass, yeah?"

"Oh uh..Okay. See you, I guess." > You wave an awkward goodbye, overwhelmed by a lot of conflicting emotions.

> You're about to drive off, but then you open the door and, hanging halfway out, you call to him, "Hey! Love you, Sock."

> That just leaves you starring for a moment. Did he just-? Does he? What. Can not compute. "L-Love you too Bro..." > You are not sure if he heard that with the way you mumbled that. You are not sure if you want him to or not. > It's only getting weirder. > But it also warms your birdy little heart.

> You heard it--you've actually got pretty good hearing still, despite all tthatt music and shit. > You smile and wave again before ducking back into your car and driving off.

> The patrol driving by half an hour later doesn't find a drug dealer, just a crying kid in some back alley. > This absolutely kills the bird.

#borgatabent #ic #story post #rp thread #birdhole #beatconductor #ft mentions of:#fouramour #starlight-iridescence #sunlight-magnificence

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craving-nothing · 2 years ago

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cw: vent post

sigh.

im back here after 3 years of what i guess could be considered recovery(?)

its so frustrating honestly. i really did try so hard to avoid slipping into old habits but all i can do is think about how thin I was before(wild considering I thought I was horribly overweight at the time) and now i just stare at my fresh stretchmarks and regret everything. i honestly have no idea what i look like anymore because the image that i think of and that i see in the mirror is so distorted and all i can see is how weird and uneven my face is and how round i have become. I hate that I no longer fit into most of the jeans I could before and that all the shirts i have are a little too snug when I swear they were large on me before.

I dont track calories right now but im planning to. I barely eat anything in a day anyways and i just bought a scale that'll probably help(or worsen) things.

right now its just kinda unbearable to exist in my body and yes this is definitely a partial control thing because the other parts of my life seem to be spiraling out of control. I am going to try to keep it quiet and as hidden as I can. there are people that will worry if they find out and I just cant bear for them to worry about me. I just need to feel better about myself, and ill definitely feel bad as i lose weight(hopefully) but maybe when i come to and think i can stop(or is forced to) ill at least feel good that my old clothes fit again.

#eating disorder #4n4 #4n4m1a #not pro just using tags #pro 4na #the tags have changed a bit since i was last here

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sociallychallengedbookworm · 6 years ago

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Trigger Warning: Mental Illness

Okay this is a really long one, but I found these papers where I was writing down my feelings and I think it was leading up to me making a suicide note or this was going to be mine. But, things have gotten better and I’m going to post what I wrote in the hopes to encourage others that things can get better. This was made in September of 2017, when I was in the darkest point of my Depression. When I actually attempted about a month later to commit suicide/was going to. (i got distracted by youtubers: Dan and Phil cuz I had them on the background cried myself to sleep on the bed.) Dan released “Daniel and Depression” Soon after and it helped to encourage me a little that I wasn’t alone. Anyways. This letter was my darkest point and I wanted to share it since I’ve gotten /mostly/ better in terms of depression and suicidal thoughts. Here it goes, brace yourselves.. its long. (I’m gonna make up names for the people I mentioned in it to conceal Identities)

“I’m getting bad again, like really bad. It was all state auditions today and I bet I flunked site reading portion. I wont make it to all state again and its been a spiral downhill ever since. I know I have failed. I see myself in the mirror and all I see is someone that I hate. I hate the way I look the way fat clings to my stomach. I’m not skinny enough. I’m not good enough and I try so hard to be happy and it never works. I ruin everything. I’m too quiet, too awkward. I fail at everything that I strive for. I’m not smart enough. i’m too lazy. I’m too ugly. I’m not perfect enough. Why am I nor normal? Why can’t I walk into a room and not feel so trapped. Why is it that everytime someone I don’t know tried to talk to me, I get flustered. I can’t breathe, I get nauseous. Social Anxiety? Why can’t I pick up on social cues? Why do I feel the need to flinch away from people? I’m not good enough I’m fucked up. I’m the person who isn’t interesting. I’m the person in the background. I’m here but I have no purpose. What is the point? I know I am loved. I have friends and family that care and that’s why I’m still here. I get cut off in conversation, I am boring and uninteresting. I have no purpose. I can’t meet new people, I can’t show emotion round other and I can’t cry and I can’t let them see. I don’t want to bring anyone into this. I used to cut but not often, I quit. That was a year ago and its worse. I want to rip into my skin and see the blood. I have never cut this much. I don’t know if things are going to get better. Why would they? I can’t make myself happy. It doesn’t really work. My friends’ happiness makes me happy and Id rather see them that way/ I know I’d want my friends to tell if things were this bad? But, I can’t do it. It’s too much It’s overwhelming. Talking to a therapist doesn’t help, it makes me feel like I’m drowning. I feel nothing and everything at all. My problems don’t matter. Hell, what if I’m making all this up? What if it’s just all in my head? Is dying really that bad? I mean, I can’t get the image of my parents finding my body, or my niece living her life without me. What’s on the other side? is it nothing? Is dying painful? Is it less painful than how I feel now? I used to love hugs but now I shy away from any touch. Why can’t I remember being genuinely happy? What is wrong with me? I want to die. I really want to. Maybe I should get help? I don’t want others to know. There’s a lot they don’t know. Why have I changed so much? I need a sharper knife . I’m not normal.

A lot of people would argue that I’m not worthless. I guess its one of those thingswhere you’re your own worst enemy. I’m drowning, in school.. in stress. In my social life. I always struggle in everything. It takes too long for me to warm up to someone. I’m too awkward. I don’t achieve anything that I strive for. I’m losing interest in everything. I want to disappear, but I don’t want to hurt anyone. If I died, how would people at school react? Would they be sad? My friends would. I know they’d go through hell and blame themselves. They’d be mad at me. My family would be devastated. I can’t do that to my sister. What about people I don’t know. People who were there but not. People who saw me in the hallways. What would they say? Would they talk about how sad it was, how they thought I was cool and wished they could have done something? They’d be lying. I’m still here and I am so fucking numb and no one notices a damn thing. They don’t see the way I hide. They’re blind. They’d maybe come to the funeral. They’d talk about how they never knew I was hurting. It was plain as day. How could you not see ? Oh, i’m nice, not nice enough for you to talk to. I talk about being dead inside and I’m not joking. I’m not trying to fit into some “Emo” Aesthetic. Yes, I wear black and all that. But. It’s not like that. I’m not in some huge phase where “Oh life sucks”. I’m struggling/ I’m dropping hints. Help me. I don’t know what to do. Help me before I go too far. I don’t see myself graduating high school, I don’t see myself achieving college goals. and being happy. I don’t see myself having kids. I don’t think I’m going to live much longer. I dont know. Maybe one day I’ll snap and just down a bottle of pills and this will be the only remnants of a note. I’ll chicken out if I actually write a suicide note. What would my internet friends do? How would they find out? I’m sorry. I’m too damaged. I don’t know if it was because of what *name* did. Or how *other name* used me. Maybe it is because *ex boyfriend name* and what they did to me. Why am I still waiting. Why am I never good enough? Why am I so fucking broken? I’m so stupid. Maybe I just don’t deserve to be happy. Maybe if I die, things will get better. I failed everyone. And its not just cuz of my trigger at all state. I tried so hard and I let everyone down. They were counting on me. Am I ever going to be okay? I know I have people who care about me. I know that they would help me. I’m scared. I don’t like being the broken girl. I don’t want to be viewed that way. I don’t want to be constantly greeted with worried glances. I don’t want to hear “How long have you been clean” I just want it all to go away.

How could I tell anyone? My parents will probably brush it off with “Pfft but you smile all the time and you have plenty of friends, you just want attention” I actually hate attention, hate being looked at like I’m some kind of freak. They don’t have the thoughts that I have, They don’t go through every day screaming at themselves and scratching at their sleeves to get the thoughts to stop. They don’t feel the pain. To them I’m just some whiny little 16 year old. Pft hormones or whatever. Maybe it is. Maybe I;m making it up. What’s even the point. Could the school counselor help me? Maybe I should stop trying.

(In really dark and angry letters that are hard to read at the bottom it says: “I’m just a disappointment”

I realize this was really long and I appreciate it if you read it to the end. I look at this and I see recovery. I haven’t fallen into a hole this deep in such a long time and a lot of this I can now look back at and look at my life now and say that it isn’t true. I may have not gotten help professionally, but I reached out to a friend of mine who did everything in his power to talk me down and keep me safe, And I have done the same to him. I just hope that by reading this someone can find some kind of.. help? They can look at this and look at the progress and maybe they can do the same. I also would love to spread awareness. THIS is how BAD depression can get. THESE are the things that run through our heads and NO ONE notices. WE ARE ALONE. It isn’t some made up thing. We aren’t asking for attention. We want help. We want out of this fucking hell before it’s too late. Please. Help us. Look at the signs, check in on your loved ones. We might need it. I’ve talked my best friend out of suicide before and he’s getting help right now and I’m so proud of him. Recovery is possible. Just please, if you need help. seek it.. and if you don’t and you know someone who does.. please do whatever you can.

Not trying to push anyone, but by reblogging this you could potentially help someone, so please I encourage you to do so. Share this story. Do anything you can. Please.

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eeveelutionsforequality · 7 years ago

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@mod vape, do you have any tips for dealing with hypersexuality or addiction? bc uh. getting off hurts. idk if it’s specifically because ive been doing it so goddamn much or because of the fucking legion of medical problems i have, but it’s DEFINITELY making my abdominal pain worse and i dont know how to stop gjdfjhk.

Well, firstly, go to the doctor about that pain - there are injuries, illnesses, sexual dysfunctions, and all sorts of things from that could be causing a pain like that (it could be a pulled muscle, a cyst, maybe you aggravated a pre-existing health issue, etc), and it's best to rule out anything too dangerous as soon as you can, and to treat anything treatable. Even if it is tied to or caused by overdoing sex/masturbation, just mitigating that habit isn't guaranteed to fix it.

I was getting some pretty bad pain from even small dildos/vibrators, and I decided to go to the doctor in case it was something dangerous - thankfully, it turned out to just be a sexual dysfunction (basically spasms and tightening of the muscles in the vagina, in my case caused by trauma). I was supposed to get therapy for it, but I never went because I was having another therapy at the time and my carer was like "But what if they cancel each other out!?" and I was like "That's not how it works..." Sometimes it acts up but I think I've got it mostly under control. I've also had to go to the doctor for sprained/strained wrists more times than I would like to admit... I used to be like "Oh I played my guitar for too long" or "Oh I think I leant on my walking stick for too long" and now I'm just like "Wanker's cramp".

Trust me and my plethora of injuries when I say that doctors are professionals, they went to medical school, they see genitalia on a daily basis, they've seen eyes and ears and giant sores full of puss... it's really rare to get a doctor that will look down upon or judge you for that. Sure you'll get the odd "You should masturbate less", "Here's a big speech about the risks of STDs and pregnancy", "Have you told your therapist about this", but it's more of an "I'm contractually obliged to impart medical advice" than an "I think you're gross" 99% of the time.

Secondly, I do have tips, but I'm still hella bad at dealing with my own issues - I still smoke more than I want to, drink til I puke, sleep with strangers, lose days to laying in bed alone, have an aching pain in my wrists, etc. Obviously I don't have all of the answers, so I can't promise that they'll be the best tips in the world - it's worth doing some more research of your own, and it might be worth talking to your doctor/therapist if you can't manage it on your own.

You haven't given much detail about how specifically it affects you or what the addiction is to (sexual stuff in general, masturbation, casual sex, porn, etc), so I'm going to try to cover as much as I can (like dealing with sexual thoughts about people in your life, limiting the number of times you masturbate, etc) and I hope that at least some of what I say is useful to you.

Okay, so the first tip I have is: try not to slip into the mentality that cold turkey is the only way to go if it's not what you want - thinking "I can't have this. I'm not allowed this." can increase cravings. Thinking "I'm allowed this later... if I stay motivated not to do it now and if I only do it in moderation, and it's gonna be great." can make waiting out those cravings a lot easier, provided you have the self-control to not slip back into a bad habit after once.

Ways to avoid slipping back into bad habits include: having time (or number of the thing) limits for when and how long you are allowed, having something to do afterwards that takes your mind off it (for example "once I've done it once, I have to get up, take out the rubbish, email my boss, read that global warming article, and get ready for bed"), other rewards/punishments (put a book you really want in your Amazon basket then click "save for later", if at the end of the fortnight you've accomplished your goal then buy the book, if you fail the fortnight resets and you have to wait two more weeks - set smaller goals with smaller rewards, and larger goals with larger rewards), keeping and going over a diary so that you can see what worked and what didn't, if there's a pattern to failures, progress even if you're not meeting goals (at which point try to make the upcoming goals a little easier since you're expecting too much of yourself), and so on.

Secondly, and it's the most generic tip ever but it's SUPER important for addictions because they can damage your pre-frontal cortex... healthy diet, exercise, meditation, mental exercises, getting some sun, and other daily tasks are super important.

You need to get into the habit of something like reading or pottery or drawing for at least half an hour to an hour every day - turn off your internet, games, distractions, and maintain concentration on what you're doing. This helps repair the effects that addictions can have on your pre-frontal cortex and dopamine receptors by activating the parts of your brain that work towards maintained motivation and focus for smaller or distant rewards, which in turn will help your brain work normally again, which in turn will increase motivation and willpower.

Cooking more difficult meals will have similar benefits and a healthy diet improves your overall health. Exercise does the same even more effectively than either, and it has the added bonus of energizing you, increasing your focus on other tasks that you do afterwards, various health benefits, lifting your mood, and helping you be tired by the end of the day so that you'll be able to sleep easier - insomnia is a really dangerous trigger for any addiction, but especially a masturbation or sex addiction, because you're in an environment that is associated with that behaviour and the behaviour makes it easier to sleep afterwards, so you've every reason to start doing it if you find yourself unable to sleep.

Which brings me on to another reason why keeping a diary is especially important - you need to isolate your triggers. Establish what happened immediately before the behaviour, what you were thinking, and what potentially led to the behaviour. Then you can work towards either avoiding those triggers, lessening them, being mindful of them, or training yourself to exhibit a different behaviour in response to them - for example, if having a shower triggers you to masturbate, try singing in the shower instead, training your brain to react to showers with the urge to sing instead of the urge to masturbate.

You might also want to try sleeping meds, so that you can take them, read until they start to kick in, and then immediately go to bed and try to sleep - that way there's less of a gap between going to bed and falling asleep where something could happen.

Routine can also be really helpful for some people - you're supposed to fall asleep between about 10pm and 1am for optimal sleep, and you're supposed to wake up between 6 and 8 hours later. Get out of bed as soon as you wake up to avoid lethargy, and either exercise or go for a short walk, or do something that starts your brain and body working for the day. After that, prepare breakfast, don't watch TV or distract yourself while you eat. Continue the day with a routine that works for you, and you could set a time at which you will masturbate (or maybe a date you're allowed to go to the club and pull... how you work in routine if you have a long-term sexual partner is something you would need to talk to them about) that doesn't interfere with your routine.

Avoid bars, pubs, clubs, tinder, grindr, and anything else that can be a trigger for that or makes quick hook-ups easy - I know that I can go to the pub near me (because there'll be nobody there for that, it's an "old people come here to watch football" pub), and that I can go to a pub or bar with friends if I'm having a good day, but making sure that my flat wasn't within walking distance of a club and deleting dating apps was really helpful to me (it meant that even if the temptation was there the effort required to act on it was too much and took too long, so I'd catch myself).

I also log off any tumblr that I'm following people on that post NSFW, porn, sexual stuff or anime stuff if necessary - just like how I log off any tumblrs where I follow political blogs if I'm getting overwhelmed by that. But it is still good to have a tumblr for NSFW stuff, to have somewhere that you can express certain things, reblog things, feel less alone, enjoy things that you enjoy - don't demonize the side of you that likes sex, don't lock it in a cell in the back of your head, just tell it that it can't control you.

I'm also working on not putting myself in as many situations that can make me feel like I'm being too flirty or as many situations that cause too many uncomfortable or sexual thoughts at a time when they're stressing me - like, I don't come online as much when I'm drunk now, I don't have as many sleepovers, and I don't tend to maintain physical contact for as long (like, I don't hold hands as often as I used to), for example.

That said, you can't live out your life hiding from people who your brain might think something sexual about - isolating yourself is unhealthy. Humans are social creatures and social interaction is good for us, talking to people about our problems is good for us, distractions and fun are good for us. I find structured social plans make things easier - so, I like plans like "lets cook together then eat the awesome meal", "lets go see a movie", "lets go to the town center and taste hot chocolate from as many cafés as we can before I puke", "lets go to the fair" and things like that (that said, agoraphobia is awful and ruins like 90% of my social interaction). Keep people in your life who you're comfortable with and who make you happy.

Remember that what you're thinking or mental images that pop into your head aren't evil, it doesn't mean that you have a crush on them, that you actually want to do sexual things with them, that you can't be their friend, or anything like that... they're just thoughts. You didn't choose them. Just let them pass.

Your surroundings and triggers are incredibly important things to stay on top of though, be that to mitigate stress in social situations, or to prevent you from engaging in more sex/masturbation than you want to or than is safe for you to.

Don't spend your day in the same place that you masturbate - even if you don't live alone you can avoid being in bed when you're in your room, you could get a sofa, beanbag, comfy chair, gigantic cushion, or other comfortable place to sit in your bedroom so that you don't have to be in your bed, and put that in a part of your room with different posters/decoration to those around your bed.

Lots of things can become associated with certain behaviours in your brain, from sitting in a certain place to feeling a certain emotion. Try to avoid being too exposed to those things at times when you don't intend to be doing something sexual, and replace them with other things that make you happy, keep you distracted, and aid in training concentration and willpower (maths games, board games, card games, puzzles, reading, cooking, exercise, drawing, writing, etc).

Even things like separating any porn or sexual pictures in your phone into a hidden folder instead of having it pop up when you go to look for pictures, or keeping magazines or the pornhub bookmark out of sight, can really help with lessening the regularity with which things pop into your head.

Finally, and I've hinted at it throughout this, mindfulness and meditation are things that many addicts find incredibly helpful. It's really worth doing some googling, watching some YouTube videos, and learning those techniques (and it's good to be doing research in general into ways to help addictions or hypersexuality disorders, because there are quite a few schools of thought and there are probably a lot of things that I've missed).

Meditation, like reading and exercise, helps train your mind into maintaining focus, not reacting to distractions and urges, relaxing, letting thoughts pass by, and being less hectic and loud - it also has health benefits, can help you sleep, can help you take time from your busy schedule to yourself (an urge that may have been previously feeding the addictions instead, as they can be linked to a need for control), and can help you work through thoughts or anxieties.

Mindfulness helps in various ways too - for example, smokers found that being mindful (observing, essentially) helped them quit because it led to them paying more attention to how bad the cigarette tasted, and it also allowed them to non-judgmentally observe the cravings that they felt, observe why they were feeling those cravings, and allow them to pass by. It's about letting your thoughts exist, letting things exist, acknowledging them, but not letting them control you.

You can study mindfulness for yourself - research it online, read one of the many books about it, watch YouTube videos, etc - or you can go to the doctor and ask for a therapy that teaches mindfulness (I found learning about it in my own time more helpful, and have had more success with that, but I think that was mostly related to not having a great therapist - plus, online gives me more opportunities to look into the how and why, to see how other people do it, to look deeper into it, to take as long as I need, while therapy was just an elderly lady snapping at me for using my phone and telling me to imagine that my thoughts are clouds and distracting me constantly).

So yeah...

Step 1: Go to the doctors for that pain, it's probably something minor but it's better safe than sorry.

Step 2: Do more research, Mod Vape doesn't know everything.

Step 3: Keep a diary and try to isolate what things are triggering you, what you're feeling beforehand, and be mindful of what you're thinking, what you're feeling, and what you're gaining/losing from the experience.

Step 4: Try to keep yourself away from things that trigger you, but also remember that you don't have to entirely abstain from valuable things - you can train new reactions as responses to those things, you can work on self-control, and so on.

Step 5: Work on your routine, diet, exercise, habits, and hobbies, so that you can improve your willpower, motivation, and health.

Step 6: Research and practice meditation and mindfulness.

Step 7: Set and work towards small goals, rewarding yourself for successes and keeping track of your progress.

Step 8: If you can't control the addiction or behaviour, if the thoughts are becoming difficult to live with, if these problems continue to cause you distress, there is no shame in seeking professional help. You don't have to do this alone.

Remember that chemical imbalances and other neurological issues can cause such things - if you can't manage it alone, that could be a warning sign that something serious or physiological is going on. Not being able to quit doesn't necessarily mean that somebody's "not trying hard enough", and instead of beating yourself up talk to somebody who can do blood tests, scans, or whatever else is necessary to make sure that you're okay and that you overcome your struggles.

~ Vape

#Mod Vaporeon

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