#literally I almost had a meltdown trying to make a single button

[barzfrommarz]

c!wilbur button I had a mental breakdown making

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday bootleggerbea

February 27-I'd really like a Bucky/Darcy/OtherMC in which Darcy has a small child, and Bucky/Other (established) just. Want. That. Family. And, damnit, they're going to make it happen. Fluffy as hell, with cameo cheerleader Steve, please? No Rumlow or Rollins, but anyone else is fine especially someone not usually thought to be family-oriented, for @bootleggerbea 

I chose the pairing Bucky/Darcy/Stephen Strange, since you mentioned going with someone usually less family-oriented. I hope that’s okay!

Written by @kathryn-claire-oconnor 

Steve had not, technically speaking, been overly happy when Bucky had told him that he’d began an official relationship with Stephen Strange. According to the history books, Bucky had been quite the ladies’ man back in the day (true) with quite the string of lovers and flings to boot (totally false). Steve had thought Bucky’s interest in Stephen began and ended with sleeping with the sorcerer, until Bucky had told him differently. Talking him into coming ‘round had been a process, one for which Stephen hadn’t exactly had the patience.

“Let him be angry,” Stephen had suggested, more than once. “It doesn’t affect me, or our relationship, as long as we say it doesn’t.”

“No one else in this facility would care so little for the opinions of your best friend,” Steve had pointed out, more than once.

“Make them sit down and talk it out like the big boys that they’re supposed to be,” Darcy Lewis had suggested, stabbing her mixing spoon into the air to emphasize her point before she handed said spoon to her lucky little toddler, Andrew.

“Chocolate!” the three-year-old told Bucky very seriously, licking a strip of batter off the spoon. “Help everyone feel better.”

Bucky chuckled, making a face at the little boy so that he’d laugh before he thanked Darcy and left her apartment. He told himself that he’d only imagined glimpsing her checking out his ass as he headed for the elevator. 

He’d taken her advice, and Andrew’s, making hot cocoa for the three of them before he rounded up Steve and Stephen and made them sit down with him and talk it out. Now, Steve was much more on board with Bucky and Stephen’s relationship, and when he caught a whiff of Bucky and Stephen’s mutual attraction to Darcy… he was almost embarrassingly on board with that.

Honestly, Bucky didn’t know what he’d do with his best friend, but some days he wanted to kill him. Even if he was the one who’d nudged Bucky into telling Stephen about his crush on Darcy. Because sometimes Steve just took things a little too far. Like convincing Stephen – not even Bucky, but Stephen Strange – to ask Darcy to accompany Stephen and Bucky on their monthly date night.

Not that either man precisely admitted that was what the night was. Not that they were purposefully hiding it, but they didn’t want to spook Darcy right out of the gate, either.

In the end when the night came, their plans – going to see the latest Disney movie with both Darcy and Andrew – didn’t matter anyway. Darcy called Bucky two hours before they were supposed to meet up, while he and Stephen were knee-deep in deciding what to wear to their date-that-probably-wasn’t-a-date. “I am so sorry, but Andrew just puked literally all over his bedroom, and now he’s having a super clingy semi-meltdown and I just—I can’t leave things like this, and I definitely can’t leave him with Laura and the Barton kiddos like I was planning. I’m afraid we’re going to have to reschedule the movie? If you two still want to go sometime?”

“Oh, we do,” Bucky promised her. “But not while Little Man’s feeling down. That’s no fun for anyone.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” Darcy said, and he could hear the relief in her voice, along with Andrew groaning and whining in the background.

He thought about asking her how Andrew was doing, how she was doing, or if she needed anything from him and Stephen. He’d been around enough single mothers, though, and knew how stubborn and determined Darcy could be, and he had a feeling he knew what her answers would be. Everyone was fine, or they would be fine; no need for anyone to worry. She had this under control all on her own.

Which he didn’t doubt, but he also knew that she’d sounded tired over the phone, and he knew that he wanted to help, and so would Stephen once he knew what was going on. So, he said a quick goodbye to Darcy, hung up, and explained the situation to Stephen.

Stephen stared at Bucky for a beat, trying to figure out if they were on the same page, then nodded sharply and stood to his feet. “I’ll get chicken soup from the place down the street, you get a couple movies, and I’ll meet you there?”

Bucky nodded – mission accepted – and turned to go into their entertainment room. He grinned when he realized that, in his haste to get to Darcy and Andrew, Stephen had opened a portal from their bedroom to the front of the diner.

“The Cars movies,” Stephen said suddenly, before moving to step through his portal. “If I’ve been paying close enough attention, Andrew seems to favor those.”

How adorable was his boyfriend, that he noticed? Bucky stepped back into their bedroom, grabbing Stephen by the front of the button-up he’d been planning on wearing to the movies and giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll see you at Darcy’s.”

Bucky beat Stephen to Darcy’s apartment even with Stephen’s portals, and knocked on the door with a handful of movies on one arm and his fluffiest blanket draped over the other. Too late, he realized he hadn’t taken the time to change back into less formal “normal” clothes before he’d hopped on the elevator and come over.

Stephen stepped gracefully out of a portal right behind Bucky as Darcy opened the door to her apartment. She looked torn between being stunned and being worried when she saw them both standing there.

Answering her unasked question, Stephen held up his bag of soup, saying, “We thought we’d bring movie night to the two of you?”

“If Andrew’s feeling up to it?” Bucky added, old instincts from babysitting sick best friends kicking in effortlessly.

Darcy must’ve read the worry on his face, because she smiled softly and nodded. “Sure. He’s just resting on the couch now. He was very disappointed about not being able to go tonight – and so was I, honestly – so thanks for this, guys. You’re winning lots of brownie points right now, I promise.”

“Brownie points?” Stephen asked before Bucky could turn and mouth that he should hush before he said something he shouldn’t. “Why would you think we want those?”

His play at being smooth was a total flop as Darcy raised her eyebrows at him from above very knowing blue eyes. “Because you both know my brownie-baking schedule, and someone,” she gestured to the movies in Bucky’s hand. “Knows my son’s favorite movies. Which means you’ve been paying attention. Which probably means you’re on the road to trying to make investment in our lives. Which I would just like to state for the record I am totally okay with.”

Bucky through the caution he and Stephen had been planning on into the proverbial wind as he asked, “Even if the ‘investment’ we’d like is more of a romantic-with-Darcy, paternal-with-Andrew sort of thing?”

Darcy grinned, stealing the blanket he’d brought and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek as she assured them, “Oh, definitely. Now,” she fixed first him and then Stephen with a steady, still-amused look, asking, “Are there any further questions we need to get ironed out before Kiddo is within earshot?”

One side of Stephen’s mouth quirked up as he shouldered past Bucky and asked, “Do I get a kiss as well?”

Darcy let out a huff of laughter, and when she rose as far as she could on her tiptoes, Stephen still had to lean over a little for her to give him that kiss on the cheek. Which made the word “adorable” come to Bucky’s mind for the second time that night.

“Anything else?” Darcy asked the now-grinning men.

They shook their heads and followed Darcy into her apartment. As they walked, however, Bucky teased, “Do you think we could get those brownie points converted into actual brownies?”

Darcy didn’t have a chance to answer before Andrew sat up from where he was resting on the couch, cheering, “Bucky! Stephen!”

Stephen handed the takeout to Bucky, approaching Andrew with a casual smile. “Hello, Little Man. We heard you aren’t feeling well. We thought you might like it if we brought the movies to you instead.”

“Yeah!”

“Feel free to do whatever doctor-ing you feel in the mood for,” Darcy suggested, standing in the doorway and just watching the notoriously once-self-centered surgeon interact with the boy.

Watching Darcy’s eyes sparkle with a slowly-growing admiration as she watched Stephen and Andrew, Bucky decided that he would change his plans any day of the week if it meant he got to keep these three around. And, best of all, it appeared that they all felt the same way about him too.

[artnerd1123]

Roo’s Character Sheet

I started this a good long while ago, but finally finished it!!! Here’s all the deets on everyone’s favorite lil paint kitty :D (and apologies to those the cut doesn’t work for lskdjfs)

Character Chart Character’s full name: Roo Pingere Reason or meaning of name: “Roo” is what happens when you mash “red” and “hue” together; aiden’s not the best at names, and named the lil guy after a red paint splotch the kitten took an interest in. Fitting, seeing as Roo himself was made out of spilled paint. Pingere is latin for paint. Character’s nickname: Roodle, Roodle doodle, paint spot, honey bun, bud/buddy, doughball  Reason for nickname: Roodle/Roodle doodle are Aiden’s nicknames for Roo, on account of him looking like a doodle of a cat. Also, rhymes. Aiden also calls him bud/buddy sometimes jus bc it’s an affectionate nickname for a son. Journal will occasionally call Roo “paint spot” as a kinda older-brother giving younger-brother that he likes a nickname type deal. Honey bun is a term of endearment seraph uses for him, as is doughball Birth date: October 13th Sexuality: biromantic  Gender/pronouns: ???, he/him

Physical appearance Age: 10 (note: familiars are “mature” at 3yrs of age) How old do they appear: depends how mature he’s acting. some people would say he’s baby, but he normally acts around 17-19 tbh Weight: he’s made of paint. Maybe somewhere around 50-60 pounds tho? Height: 2’9’’ Body build: he is a Literal Bean™ with noodly arms n legs Shape of face: cat Eye color: black scleras, his irises are white with a black ring inside it, but his iris turns orange w/black slit in feral form Glasses or contacts: none Skin tone: pale indigo with darker indigo fur, and lavender cheeks Distinguishing marks: his cheeks each have two horizontal purple lines on them, and he also has freckles *shrugs* Predominant features: his big ol ears n fluffy tail, as well as dripping paint Hair color: technically fur, but indigo Type of hair: fur :V Hairstyle: none Voice: his vc is over here! Overall attractiveness: jus an adorkable lil bean Physical disabilities: none (unless not being able to touch water is one :V) Usual fashion of dress: doesn’t tend to wear anything but cloaks Favorite outfit: his classic brown cloak w/ many layered patches added over the years, held together with his indigo gem/silver cloak clasp Jewelry or accessories: has a silver cloak clasp with a circular indigo gem inlaid

Personality Good personality traits: good natured, wants to help, good listener, gives good advice, easy to make himself and others laugh, loyal, bubbly once you get to know him, dedicated, supportive, extremely loving/affectionate, does his best, very slow to anger, good secret keeper, will let loved ones know how he feels regardless of the emotion Bad personality traits: frightfully shy, indecisive in times of stress, easily scared, easily stressed, social and regular anxiety, very emotional, has a tendency to beat himself up over mistakes/things he did wrong, scares himself sometimes, if you actually somehow manage to make him mad he gets vicious, needs gentle handling if he’s overwhelmed or he’ll have a meltdown Mood character is most often in: a toss up between anxious and content Sense of humor: wordplay and making stupid faces are his go to. Puns are his favorite! These, likewise, will pretty much never fail to make him smile or laugh. Corny jokes are another failsafe that’ll cheer him up/make him laugh easily Character’s greatest joy in life: being able to paint on just about anything with his tail, and sitting in the sun/other warm places near people he loves Character’s greatest fear: being separated from Aiden unwillingly (aka getting lost) and blood Why: blood just… freaks him out. It always has. Whether it’s the implication of violence or just the sight of the bodily fluid, it will never fail to distress him. Aiden is also his originator, and the one person he relies on most. Without him, Roo wouldn’t know what to do with himself   What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Losing Aiden. Character is most at ease when: with aiden, especially in places that they stop to rest in towns. If aiden’s not around, he’s most at ease with good friends or staying in the place they’ve found to live in. If there’s a windowsill or armchair to curl up in, then that’s even better! He’s almost always calm when he’s curled up somewhere comfy, with people he knows well close by. Most ill at ease when: aiden’s away, he’s on his own, during thunderstorms, or they’re right in the middle of somewhere really dangerous. Foggy/dark forests, old abandoned ruins, and anywhere wet/damp are all fair game. But he has to be alone to be truly ill at ease. He really doesn’t like being all alone. Enraged when: you manage to push all his buttons and break through his anxiety to tick him off. This barely ever happens, but it can if you continuously harass his friends/family. The moment he stops being scared of you, he’ll fight you himself. Angery Kitty™ Depressed or sad when: he messes up, he feels like he’s failed, he’s been anxious too long, [redacted] happens, they’re out of his favorite food/paint/etc at home, it’s been raining for awhile Priorities: helping/hanging out with aiden, tryna keep him safe, doing the same for all his friends, trying to do his best in any situation, and taking time to himself to recuperate if he needs it Life philosophy: treat others how you want to be treated, always be kind and respectful, and give plenty of chances. But when it comes down to it, know when to put your foot down, and know when things are out of your hands. Just do what you can while you can. Do the best you can do. If granted one wish, it would be: to have a safe home where he and aiden can settle down… (particularly with a partner of his own~) Why? As much as Roo likes exploring new places with Aiden, he misses the days when they were happily settled in a questor village, with friends and familiar surroundings that never changed. He wants to find a place in the world and settle there, away from danger and scary things where they can jus hang out together. He’s also always been a bit of a romantic, and he’d really like a partner one day. Jus someone to lov on and to lov him back, y’kno? Character’s soft spot: shiny/colorful things, friends, and scritches behind his ears Is this soft spot obvious to others? Yep. Completely. Spend a little time around him and present one of these things to him, and you’ll def be able to see him light up :D Greatest strength: he’s really observant of others/his surroundings, and thus very introspective. This allows him to offer good advice and insight on any given situation that he’s a part of. Also, his feral form def packs a punch >:V Greatest vulnerability or weakness: he’s scared of a lotta things, and his anxiety also super sucks. if he’s in a stressful situation, these tend to lock him into a state of horrible indecision. Not to mention his feral form is kinda out of control. He gets really anxious/self conscious about it. Biggest regret: not being able to control himself in his feral form Minor regret: being so shy around new people Biggest accomplishment: he doesn’t quite have a crowning achievement, but he’s helped aiden outta plenty of dangerous situations while questing. Minor accomplishment: he’s found a way to sleep on literally any windowsill, no matter how small. Magic kitty :D Past failures they would be embarrassed to have people know about: back when he was still learning how to clean up properly, he used to get the places objects went confused. Clothes would end up in the kitchen, paints in aiden’s dresser, and pots n pans would end up wedged in with the art supplies. It was a fun time. Why? Roo likes to think he’s helpful n organized… this is certainly a big spot on his record XD Character’s darkest secret: he’s actually terrified of himself/his feral form. Like. Pure, unbridled fear. He gets really bad nightmares about it hurting people he cares about sometimes.   Does anyone else know? Ye, aiden does. Aiden tries to help Roo get past this fear.

Goals Drives and motivations: maintaining safety during quests is a big one, as well as finding time to himself/to rest from being around people. If he can avoid crowds in general, he’ll do jus about anything to make sure it happens. He also wants to help his friends n family stay happy, or at least give them good support. He’s driven by a sense of responsibility, as well as knowing how bad it is to feel horrid, and jus wantin to stop people from feelin that way. Immediate goals: make sure the house stays relatively clean/organized, help where needed, find a warm place to nap, find some sort of scrap/etc to play with, try and get into the cookies (again) or jus get his paws on som sort of sweets. Long term goals: help out on any and all quests, protect aiden, and find somewhere they can properly put down some roots How the character plans to accomplish these goals: attentiveness, working through his fear/anxiety, and trying his best How other characters will be affected: positively! He jus wanna have a safe place with his originator n friends ;w;

Past Hometown: the town aiden had settled in before taking up his questor career Type of childhood: happy and untroubled! He had a few major run ins with fear, but aiden was always there for him. It was pretty perfect as far as a familiar’s “childhood” can get. Pets: none First memory: seeing aiden in his living room Most important childhood memory: his first thunderstorm; namely, what happened during it. Why: It was the first time Aiden had left the house without him, and he wasn’t able to follow. The fear he felt from all the thunderous crashing and rain ended up pushing him far enough to turn into his feral form-- also a first. However, Aiden came home as soon as he’d found out about his familiar’s troubles, and spent the whole rest of the night with him. It taught him that Aiden was a constant, and would always be there to comfort and take care of him. It was also his introduction to his feral form-- something that definitely still impacts him to this day. Childhood hero: aiden!!! Dream job: he’d like to go into design tbh. He enjoys drawing patterns, and likes decorating things. If he could do that for a living, he’d be gold! Education: plenty of book knowledge, taught by aiden, and plenty of world experience too. He’s pretty well rounded in all aspects (tho he’s skewed in the direction of observation/working out solutions to actual situations rather than anythin else) Religion: n/a Finances: aiden takes care of that

Present (for all intents and purposes, present counts as mid-story. Makes things easier to answer.) Current location: an apartment in a bustling town surrounded by forests. (town still needs a name) Currently living with: Aiden and Journal Pets: none Religion: n/a Occupation: familiar (doesn’t really have a job, but cleans around the house and such) Finances: aiden still takes care of this

Family Mother: Relationship with her: Father: Aiden Relationship with him: loving and caring, lossa respect and trust! There’s nothing Aiden wouldn’t do for em, and the reverse is true. Siblings: Relationship with them: Spouse:  Relationship with them:  Children: Relationship with them: Other important family members: Journal, ruffy (in the future), seraph (also in the future, becomes spouse)

Favorites Color: dark blue! Least favorite color: that kinda pukey looking brownish green color. When it gets later in the story, he absolutely hates the color of blood (both dried and still wet) Music: anything kinda jaunty and upbeat! Pop and carnival music are some he likes a lot. He’s also got a soft spot for lullabies and anything played by a music box. Food: biscuits!!!!!!!!!! Literature: loves fairytales, particularly ones with cute romance plots. He’s a sucker for mushy gushy cute stuff, happy endings, and magical expeditions. Form of entertainment: fireside storytelling!!! Or regular storytelling. That’s fine too. The more hand motions, voices, and possible magic visual aids, the better. Expressions: that shouty, loud, bubbly excitement that happens when you put someone in front of their favorite things. Mode of transportation: riding on someone’s shoulders, or otherwise being carried Most prized possession: his cloak. It’s patched up and well loved, since he’s had it so long!

Habits Hobbies: painting, watching birds, dancing, reading, climbing on things, finding out new ways to get into the cookie jar Plays a musical instrument? nope Plays a sport? If parkour across the apartment at 3am counts, then yep How they would spend a rainy day: inside, curled up somewhere warm. Preferably as far from windows as possible, with a cup of hot cocoa and a ball of yarn to paw at. Spending habits: doesn’t tend to buy much of anything. He buys hot cocoa packets, biscuit mix, paper, and new patches for his cloak every so often tho Smokes: no Drinks: the only thing he consistently drinks is hot cocoa Other drugs: nooooooope What do they do too much of? Worrying about things and what strangers he’s interacted with are thinking of him What do they do too little of? Letting go of situations that went horribly wrong in the past. Extremely skilled at: organizing, picking apart a situation or how people are feeling to give good feedback/advice, sleeping on windowsills Extremely unskilled at: tasks that require you to do a whole lotta things at once, interacting with a lot of people at once, coping on his own in a really stressful situation Nervous tics: fidgeting with paws, quiet meowing, constant glancing around, flicking his ears back and tucking his tail between his legs Usual body posture: kinda slouched, ears perked, and tail either resting on the ground or up in a loose “S” shape Mannerisms: around strangers he’s very soft spoken and timid, hides behind things a lot, and sticks close to places/people he knows. If you manage to get him out of his shell, he’s easily excitable and very bubbly. Likes to ask questions, play with scraps and trash, and clean things up so it looks nice. He’s kindhearted and sweet to everyone, and will occasionally rub up against things or people he really likes. Easily startled. Avoids water/damp things. Doesn’t tend to spend much time in crowded areas, or enjoy it at all. Peculiarities: if he gets too overwhelmed by negative emotions (mostly fear), he can only meow instead of speak. He’ll also drip paint at different rates depending on his mood (the faster it drips, the more distressed and/or angry he is)

Traits Optimist or pessimist? Tries his best to be optimistic, but can sometimes break down and turn into a kinda paranoid pessimist (thank u anxiety) Introvert or extrovert? Biiiiig introvert, but needs close friends somewhere he can reach to feel secure. Daredevil or cautious? Def errs on the side of caution! He can be reckless if distressed tho Logical or emotional? V emotional. Trusts his gut on things. Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical ftw! He likes his space at least mostly clean! Prefers working or relaxing? He’s alright as long as he’s enjoying himself, but relaxing wins out. Confident or unsure of themself? Yes. (depends on the situation lol) Animal lover? Yea!!! Dogs and other canines make him nervous, and bugs kinda freak him out, but he likes jus about everything else :0

Self-perception How they feel about themself: he thinks he’s timid, a little too anxious, and a little too easily scared, but a good, kind familiar who’s doing his best to improve himself n live a good life!!! He’s absolutely terrified of his feral form.  One word the character would use to describe self: sheepish One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: “My name’s Roo, an’ I’m a twelve yeah old cat familieh. I’m kind of a nervous mess sometimes, b-but I’m doin my best to fix that! Or at least teh cope! I’ve been told I’m a sweetheart, and that i’m really easy to excite ‘n make laugh. I’m always tryna be kind an’ understandin! I’ll lend yeh my ear, if yeh need someone to listen, an’ I’m really good at giving advice.” “Um… about my hobbies… I like to organize things, paint, an’ dance! Oh, and watch birds!!! They’re really really cool… Just like my friends! I love them a whole lot, and there’s nothin I wouldn’t do for em!!!” “... One last thing…? Mnn… um… I’m… I’m not all too fond of my feral form. And I see it a lot more ‘n i’d like to. I-I’m way more emotional ‘n easily stressed than I’d like s-sometimes…” What does the character consider their best personality trait? His excited nature and/or ability to give quiet support What does the character consider their worst personality trait? His fear/anxiety What does the character consider their best physical characteristic? His freckles!!! He likes his lil spattering of spots across his snoot. His fluffy fur is another good contender. What does the character consider their worst physical characteristic? How he drips paint, tbh. It can make quite a mess if it gets out of hand. How does the character think others perceive them: helpful, kind and sweet, but a little childish (that last part kinda bugs him sometimes) What would the character most like to change about themself: his anxiety and feral form. Anxiety has always been something he struggles with, and he’d really like to downsize it to at least a more manageable level. As for feral form, he absolutely hates that he turns into a giant violent panther when he gets too stressed-- especially since it’s hurt people before.

Relationships with others Opinion of other people in general: people are mostly good, even with the few rotten apples that pop up from time to time. Large amounts of em are exhausting to be around a lot tho. Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others? Not often. Roo’s pretty much an open book. If he does hide something, he’s got a good reason for it, or you’re someone he doesn’t know well at all. Person character most hates: nobody, really. (this does change as the story goes on tho. Ho boi) Best friend(s): Aiden, Journal, Ruffy and Seraph (both in the future) Love interest(s): Seraph~ Person character goes to for advice: Aiden Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: also Aiden, Journal sometimes, and Seraph/ruffy in the future Person character feels shy or awkward around: any new person ever. Feels awkward around Seraph until crushes are admitted. Person character openly admires: all his friends!!! Person character secretly admires: Seraph (for a bit, anyway ;3) Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Aiden After story starts: Seraph, Journal, Ruffy, and still Aiden

[allycornelius]

Lots of feelings

(long post, tw: suicide mention)

I’ve been having weird sensory meltdowns all day, and couldn’t figure out why I kept getting panicked and stressed. but, it turns out, my body remembered something that my brain did not. After the third sensory overload of the day, I was rushing to vent out my feelings in a diary app that I write my feelings in, and then I looked at the date. I realized what day it was.

it has been exactly 2 years since I almost died.

1 year ago, on the first anniversary of the happening, my body had a similar reaction. it was several sudden episodes of mania followed by intense panic and immeasurable stress over the course of the day. I would go from feeling really good and productive and suddenly plummet into impulsive chaos, where my head would pound and everything around me freaked me out- every sound and every movement made me feel violent and want to lash out. These things I felt today and last year were also the same things I felt on that day. Compulsions, that made me want to hurt others and myself.

I attempted suicide that day.

I think lots of people occasionally have passing thoughts that are suicidal in nature when under intense stress- people who are depressed even moreso. Some even have them every single day of their lives. That’s where I was, where even the smallest mistake or failure drove me to the edge- I became suicidal at the drop of a pin. Every time something bad happened, my brain pushed the big red button, and sent my body into defcon 2– every. single. time. Of course, not every time I got like this did I attempt- I sometimes came dangerously close, but never close enough.

It’s hard even now for me to understand exactly what it was that caused me to peak on that day. My memory of that night is so fuzzy due to slipping in and out of consciousness several times. But something I do remember before the attempt happened was something extremely significant- I was drawing with rainbows that day. Eye-bleeding colors. That was the first day I drew rainbows. I drew some pretty dark things. Here’s some of them.

Looks kind of familiar, doesn’t it? These drawings I made hours before trying to kill myself became the very foundation for what would eventually evolve into Sparklecare. Bright colors with horribly depressing, nihilistic hopeless messages. That sort of turned into my brand.

I was hospitalized for my attempt for about a month or so, and while in the hospital I drew lots of depressing colorful things in Crayola markers. But here’s where I know you probably were waiting for this story to get to- what exactly happened to me in that hospital? For legal reasons I still am not going to go into major detail about my experiences inside those walls, but to put it simply, the psychiatric ward I was placed in was very bad. Me and all the other patients there were heavily neglected and dehumanized by the staff. To sum it up, the experiences I had there were more traumatic than the suicide attempt itself.

As horrible as that hospital experience was, I was put on medication for a disability I have (one that didn’t work) which was the first step towards recovery. As months passed my psychiatrists fiddled with different medications until I somehow ended up on something that actually started working. Not only did it help symptoms of my disability, but it also helped with the major depression I was experiencing and balanced my chemicals enough that I got a sudden boost in creativity and my ability to be productive. Suddenly I could actually do things! That was when I started Sparklecare.

What actually led to it’s official fabrication is actually pretty interesting. I’ve had lots of different comic series and characters in the past, but lots of them were created and existed through some very hard times in my life and they bore lots of negative memories and associations. I tried my hardest to look past them, but it proved useless as it eventually became too much. I had a breakdown over these bad associations, and basically gave up on everything I was working on at the time. And that’s when something happened. I don’t know how it happened- part of me speculates it had to do with the fact I was put on a new medication about 2 days prior, and that the chemicals kicked in at the perfect moment-

I remembered completely freezing at my desk, and deciding in seconds, that I would start something new.

And so I did. I didn’t even try to think of a story, I just decided to make a character. I went on Twitter and asked some longtime close friends (people who are all now in the ZCP) for an animal species. They gave lots of suggestions but I ended up combining one with my own, and I drew Doom! I literally didn’t even draw him more than once, I just drew him one single time and started a story. I made a few more characters, then started the comic. I didn’t have anything planned or even scripted, it was just something dumb I made with the idea of making fun of doctors who were bad to me in the hospital. I wanted to make something to make myself feel better. I didn’t think anything would come of it, I sort of half-expected that I would give up after a few days, but I kept it going. It was very small at first, but I remember being extremely happy and excited when I got fanart for the first time, from someone who wasn’t friends with me. It was the best feeling ever. And I had no idea back then.

No idea that this little creation I made when trying to not kill myself would actually get any recognition or attention, let alone help someone else. I think in about October of 2016 was when it blew up for the first time. It got so much fanart and people made fan characters, and more and more people followed me. I received messages from people who told me that they related to my story and characters and that it gave them hope to live. I remember crying on Christmas of that year because someone sent me an ask telling me they were spending Christmas in the hospital, but were happy because they kept seeing doctors and thinking about my characters. The fact I could help a single person alone, that I could help multiple people- that was the most surreal thing. I had just turned 16 that Christmas, and people were telling me I was helping them get through being suicidal.

From then on I decided to start to make things that I would have wanted to see when I was in that place. Things that I needed but didn’t have when I was in that dark place, things that I wanted to see exist, things that 9-year-old me would have been obsessed with. Stuff that was unnecessary violent and obscene and colorful and ridiculous and silly, because it made me happy. It made others happy. I realized that by helping myself, I learned how to help others, too.

I’m happy I’m alive. And if I can make just one other person feel that way too, I’ll die happy.

[themiddlelayer]

Stayin’ Alive

It was a really hard weeked for me. When I say stayin’ alive, I’m saying that there were a couple moments when I had to remind myself to do that... stay alive. This isn’t something I talk about a lot, but it’s the reality of living with mental health issues. 

(CW: Suicidal ideation)

tl:dr There is hope and a reason to keep fighting to stay alive. 

My mental health has been a battle for as long as I can remember. I’ve had times when I’m mostly fine and the ‘dark & twisty’ is barely audible background noise. There have also been times when I was genuinely a danger to myself. It’s been over a decade since I actually tried to hurt myself... deliberately, but there have been moments that in looking back, I know I was treating my life carelessly. 

Java Bear was one of those moments. I consented to rough play, but I could see in his eyes that I was in actual danger. He could have slipped and lost control very easily. I got lucky in that I got out of that relationship mostly unharmed. 

I remember being as young as 11-12ish, sitting in my open 2nd story bedroom window wondering if “tumbled” just right if I could hit the fence and make sure I didn’t survive the fall. I imagined I would be dead by 16, then 18, then 21... I never planned for my own future because I genuinely didn’t think I would live that long. 

Later in life I began describing it as my ‘self destruct button.’ It would light up and go crazy sometimes and my job was to keep myself far enough away from it that I wouldn’t push it. 

When ExH was deployed for the first time, I actually took a swing at the button and missed. I’d been spiraling for months and nobody around me really saw it. Or if they did, they didn’t step in and try to help. I lived with my mother for a few months and she only fueled the fire... she continued to treat me like an equal, like another adult who was a friend and peer. 

I was 25 at the time, so yes... technically an adult. But I had moments when I really needed mothering and she failed spectacularly and instead treated me as she always had... I was the mom. I was the adultier adult. I had my shit together. That’s how everyone had always treated me, LONG before I should have been treated as such. 

By the fall of 2004 I’d lost a ton of weight and bought my boobs. This was right before buying a house via POA while ExH was still in Iraq, and in the time before people talked about the dangers of opioids. I was prescribed xanax and percocet after my surgery then I had a complication about a week later... another surgery and another prescription. 

I was living in a house with roommates, one of whom I’d been cheating on ExH with for months. I’d given custody of My Kiddo back to her father because she accused my roommate of ‘being mean to her’ and I was in no shape to fight with him and his threats that he’d tell ExH that I was cheating on him. I had a meltdown that Christmas Eve and after getting as drunk as I could, I opened the bottles and took all the pills I had left. It may or may not have been enough to do the job had I fallen asleep. It just happened that ExH was able to get online that night and I stayed awake chatting with him for several hours. 

On New Years Eve I had a meltdown and quit my job. The month of January 2005 was spent literally in bed dealing with what I know now was a detox and withdrawal from the meds. I threatened to slit my wrists on a night when I’d finally ventured downstairs and was super drunk... as usual. My roommate, who had literally brought me food and carried me to the shower periodically threatened to take me to the ER to be admitted if I didn’t agree to find a therapist the next day. Cue therapist #1 who, like those who followed, treated me like I had my shit together and didn’t actually need help. 

A few months later, I’d moved to TX with ExH and I had another episode of sorts while he was away at a school. I went to my doctor to ask for antidepressants and showed him my journal where I’d pondered what would happen if I slit my wrists with DNR. I was admitted to the psych ward for 3 days where I had a tech tell me that just because I’d been there didn’t mean that I couldn’t work there. I was given meds that made me feel worse (that I didn’t continue) and referred to another therapist who treated me like a peer... He was the one who recommended that I buy a puppy training manual and apply the techniques to ExH. 

Over the years, the worst episodes have all happened when I’d get really drunk and lose control. There was a Christmas Eve just a couple years ago when MM said that I scared him... that I was on the ground sobbing about how badly I wanted to die. I only remember bits and pieces of that night because I posted some bad poetry here. 

I’ve been on a single antidepressant for 5+ years and the last time I upped the dose I had panic attacks and needed xanax to sleep. There were still nights when I would ask MM to open the bottle and give me one because I didn’t trust that I would take them all. 

After the quad, things got really bad again. I didn’t tell anyone about the worst moments but I started fantasizing about the irony of just drowning myself in the hot tub by closing the lid on myself. I didn’t use the hot tub for months because I was afraid for myself. My leave of absence from work saved my life. Literally.

Since moving into my own place I’ve opened my eyes on several mornings and immediately started crying. I’ve pondered if the memory foam mattress would soak up all the blood so I don’t make a mess of the new carpet. This morning as I went to put away the rope Puppy tied me up with last weekend I imagined hanging myself with it before chuckling out loud because I can’t tie a knot to save my life... ra-cha-cha. 

My self-destruct button has been blinking bright, but every day I pull myself up and fight to stay alive. 

This morning I took my shirt off and put it on my pillow after soaking through a pile of tissues with tears and snot. Puppy told me he loved me in the throes of it. Matter of fact, that almost made it worse. But I managed to get up. 

I ordered my groceries to be delivered so that I wouldn’t have to get dressed and worry about running into Tampa at the grocery store or shopping at another store I’m less fond of. I printed a letter to Tampa that I wrote yesterday, outlining why I’d cut communication and telling him that if he contacted me again that I’d get a restraining order. I addressed the envelope and found a stamp. I put away all the laundry I did in my portable washing machine then hung to dry. I got my Frida puzzles and print up on in my office and made myself biscuits and gravy. I skipped the cannabutter because I didn’t want to lose control of myself with how scary my morning had been. 

A friend from middle school posted that she needed to talk and she disclosed that her boyfriend is a functioning alcoholic who verbally abuses her when he drinks and even pushed her to the ground once. I encouraged her to get out and told her that she’s strong enough to make it without him... that she can’t put a price tag on her life, no matter how expensive it is to live out there. 

Puppy went on for awhile about how much I mean to him, how much I’ve taught him (referring to before we got all sexy-like together) and how much he credits me for good things in his life. He even said that he’d thought about “kidnapping me and taking him with me” when he moves away. 

A friend from TX reached out tonight asking how I was doing, then disclosed that she’s considering seeking professional help for “emotional issues” of sorts. I encouraged her to look for a therapist and invited her to a page that an acquaintance in Baltimore runs where she talks about self-love, positivity, and her own experiences with mental health issues. I’ll call her my Baltimore Babe or BB.

And on Friday, I showed a co-worker FetLife...I’ll call him Tor because he was technically my mentor when I came to the department but I’ve ended up being a life/relationship coach of sorts for him.  He’s been asking me about polyamory and working on breaking out of, as he calls it, his sheltered life. 

Another co-worker has been helping in that endeavor as well... sending him sex toys and talking to him about her experiences swinging. Of course, I gave Tor the link to my page because I’ve had a bit of a crush on him since day 1, and I even posted a new pic after he said that I should post more. It was fun to talk about that kind of thing on FB while chatting work stuff in the official work chat platform. 

The point of all of it is that no matter how hard it is to stay alive... no matter how bright my self-destruct button blinks, I keep getting reminders of why I didn’t jump, why I didn’t go to sleep, why I didn’t cut and why I didn’t get in the hot tub alone. I hang onto these things for dear life, literally. This is what keeps me alive when my brain screams at me that it’s time to die... that I’ve already outstayed my welcome in this meat suit and that’s why everything hurts so much all the time. 

It hit me as I was about to climb into bed that I need to book a coaching session with my Baltimore Babe and talk to her about how she got started with her blog and ended up making her living at keeping other people alive. She has had times, like me, where keeping herself alive was hard to do. I’ve said it over and over that I’m going to do the coaching thing and make it my career. I need to take action! Bippity bobbity bitches! 

**Disclaimer** If you feel you might be a danger to yourself... if you are considering suicide I’m here to tell you: STAY ALIVE. And ask for help. You matter more than you know!

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255 

[major-artery]

Today is Rheumatoid Disease / Rheumatoid Arthritis Awareness Day. You are in for a long read; feel free to skim through, read the entire thing, or skip it entirely. There are times it may be “TMI”, but I feel it’s all a necessary part of my journey. <3 

I’m sure everyone knows at this point, but I have this “invisible” disease. I have been officially diagnosed for a few years at this point, but tested borderline for JRA when I was young – I believe I’ve been suffering with it silently for most of my teenage and adult life.

When you get sick, you go to the doctor; you’ll get some antibiotics, maybe a cough syrup. They’ll tell you take it easy, and in a few days you’ll be better. You will never hear those words as someone with RD/RA – or most invisible illnesses, for that matter.

At my first Rheumatologist appointment, I didn’t know this. I had come to see the Rheumatologist after a hospital visit; I’d had debilitating pain in my knees and ankles – they were so swollen I couldn’t move and the throbbing was agonizing. As I sat in the office, my doctor assessed me the best she could – asked me all the personal questions, gave me a physical, squeezed my joints, and checked my blood.

There was no immediate diagnosis. She didn’t want to assume the worst until there was nothing left. I was sent for more blood work, x-rays, and thrown on prednisone. We discussed the possibility of other medications that may be needed down the line – their positives and their negatives. It mostly went in one ear and out the other side. All I kept thinking was that it would be over soon.

While I was on the prednisone I felt like I could bench a tank, but it also made my sick to my stomach. My next visit to my doctor did not go as I planned. Far from it, actually… I felt I had made progress, but my blood work showed degradation. There was more inflammation in my blood than before – even though the prednisone felt like it was helping, I was getting worse. By this point I had been tested for many different things, all coming back negative.

The official diagnosis came – I had Rheumatoid Disease. I had done some research on it, and through work I had learned a lot about it and the different types of drugs that are on the market. Everything I had ever heard didn’t matter though because now I was the one wearing those shoes.

My Rheumatologist asked me if my husband and I were planning to have kids. “One day, I’d like to, sure.” The whole reason why she was asking was because she was going to put me on Methotrexate (MTX.) It’s a drug that is used in the treatment of patients going through chemotherapy – it takes your immune system from “hero to zero.” What I learned was the real truth about RD/RA – that your immune system has gone “haywire” and it views your joints (and at times other parts of your body as well) as an infection, something that needed to be illuminated. This is what causes the swelling and painful joints.

All of a sudden, in the span of ten minutes, I could no longer have children (unless I came off my medications for at least six months, would mean I would be in pain,) I could no longer go to hospitals to visit sick friends and family without it being a detriment to my health (or be around anyone sick for that matter), that a common cold could actually land me in the hospital. Hand sanitizer, religious hand washing, and birth control were absolute musts.

--Medication Rant Here--

Bi-weekly visits to the Rheum began with repeated blood-checking. The small dose of MTX was not working efficiently. I was bump from 4 pills a week to 6, then from 6 to 8 (a “maximum” dosage.) More visits, more unfortunate news. My doctor started me on a combination therapy of MTX and an injectable medication – Humira.

A few months passed, things seemed to be working well with Humira. My poor husband – as much as I was suffering, I put the pressure on him. I found that when it came time to give myself the injections I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to press the plunger on the auto-injector. (As an aside –the auto-injectors look like really thick pens. You push the trigger button on top, and it plunges the needle into your skin and automatically administers the entire dosage.) The loud click scared me, and the pain of the medication being administered so quickly by the syringe scared me even more. Like clockwork when it came time for the next dose, I’d go into a full meltdown and anxiety attack. I found myself literally biting onto pillows, crying my eyes out, and begging him to not do it. It sometimes took hours for him to talk me down.

Through the months, almost a year, I was taken off of MTX and left on Humira. Blood work throughout these passing months showed there was no real improvement. My prescription ran out for it and my Rheum wanted to move me onto a different biologic / DMARD (disease-modifying anti-rheumatic drug). She wanted to move me onto Enbrel. I had heard nothing but positive things about Enbrel, and was excited to begin the treatment.

My doctor’s office called me while I was at work – my insurance would not cover the Enbrel, and I had to come in to discuss other treatment options. I was heartbroken; the idea of being on another auto-injected medication scared me, but the idea of finally having peace overtook it.

The next time I saw my rheumatologist, we discussed something a new drug I hadn’t heard of but had been on the market for a long time. I was beginning to feel like a lab rat. I started Cimzia soon after – which was different than the auto-injectors I had been used. This was a manual plunge-syringe.

I actually took a liking to the Cimzia. I gained a lot of confidence in giving myself the two doses – because I could control how I “stabbed” myself with the needle, I could control how fast I pushed the plunger down.

But like the Humira, the Cimzia worked for a short amount of time then became ineffective. I was switched to Xeljanz – a twice a day pill instead of a bi-weekly injection. I’ve found that I’ve become more “tired”, lethargic even on this medication. It helps keep the swelling and the pain away for the most part. We’ll see where it goes in the next few months.

--End Medication Rant--

I was so angry with the world when I got my diagnosis. I was angry that some people didn’t seem to understand what I was going through was serious. “Oh, at least it’s only Rheumatoid Arthritis.” “You can’t have that – you’re not old…” I exhausted so much time and my precious energy being upset at things that were out of my control. Suddenly everyone was an expert in my illness, everyone know what could “cure” me – miracles.

When someone asks me how I’m feeling, I have to go through an internal monologue of “Do you actually want to know how I’m feeling? Do you want me to put that burden on you?”

I go through periods of guilt when I feel helpless; it makes me upset and makes me feel lazy when I ask my husband to grab me something from the fridge, to cook and clean up afterward, or sometimes (which hasn’t happened in a long time) to cut up my food for me. There are times where just putting on pants is a challenge and I have to ask someone to do the button for me. It’s embarrassing, and it’s heartbreaking.

I recently wrote a letter to myself – and I think a lot of people with invisible illnesses can relate.

“Dear Jessi,

It’s not the end of the world, I promise. I need you to take a deep breath, and really read what I’m about to write to you. Wipe your tears – wipe them off on your sleeves if you can’t reach the tissues, maybe even a pillow. Get comfy, because shit is about to get real.

This isn’t your fault. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this; your body was basically on a self-destruct timer with no wires to cut to stop it. You did not do anything to deserve this. People have crosses to bear – this is yours.

There will be people in your life who won’t understand what you’re going through. You can try to educate them, but sometimes you have to just turn the other cheek. You will make plans, and just as quickly you will cancel them. It is out of your control. Stop being embarrassed. Ask for help. Let people think whatever they want to think, and fuck’em if they don’t want to be compassionate.

They’ll still see you as the loveable weirdo, a little ditzy at times, maybe a klutz who obsesses way too much about RPGs. None of that changes because of your RA.

I mean what I’m about to say in the most positive way possible: you will -never- be cured. I’m going to be blunt about it because no one else will be. But you’ll persevere – you’re a boss-ass bitch. Your pain will be managed for most of the time. I’m not saying it won’t get bad, because it will. And you’re allowed to cry.

You are not the person you were a few years ago. You have all these rules to live by, and you’ll be worried that you won’t be able to go through with plans. There will be tools to help you, even if it’s a wheelchair.

IT IS OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY. Do NOT let anyone tell you otherwise. There will be days where you will roll over to turn off your alarm and you can’t. Don’t panic – take the time you need to get mobility back in your joints. When you’re out, use your handicap placard. You’re suffering. Do not let the dirty looks or comments sway you.

Appreciate your husband a little more every single day. He’s there for you – even if he’s pestering you about your medication, when your next doctor appointment is, or where that bruise came from (followed shortly by poking it.) You may not be able to keep up at times, and he will always change his pace for you.

Have you used all of your spoons today? I think you did; you probably over-extended yourself, and you’ll regret it tomorrow. But are you happy now? Then it was worth it.

Most importantly – at heart, you’re still you, even if your body is weird as fuck. You are not your illness. You are not any less of a person.

I love you. You should love you, too.”

So, this is me. Today I do my best to educate people on what I live with. Welcome to my world. Please, ask me questions, I may not have an answer, but I may have an experience. I’m a member of the #cureArthritis squad – and my goal is to spread information about my disease.

Thank you for taking the time to read; please consider making a donation toward RD/RA Research. It is one of the least funded research topics in the United States.

https://www.curearthritis.org/sponsor-specific-research/

[allthatwehear]

it’s july

7/1/2020

goodmorning; it’s 9:15AM, sitting in my Seattle room, perched on the red-and-white striped couch, Sally (?). previously I was sitting on the floor, messing on my phone. i’m always on my phone. i wake up already tired. the coffee trick, that used to do its thing and made me feel alive when I literally thought I was falling into depression - yeah, that’s since gone away. i’m back to being tired; my body is achy, i don’t move much, i don’t get out of my room much. i have to literally force myself to go on jogs; it’s like there’s no incentive now that i’m not being constantly upset by luke or dumbass friends, or even stressed with school. stress was a bit motivator: now i’m just sad. and slow. so i don’t move much. days, months, fly by, without me really having anything to say that i’ve done. i went backpacking? that was probably my biggest accomplishment in months, or maybe will be of the whole summer, we’ll see. i don’t have many friends. my friends are either in colorado, sawyer and suze, or they’re here but i guess i don’t feel one hundred percent comfortable with being my entire self with them yet -- eirene and sonja. marta is far away. i used to tell her almost everything, but now i feel like i’m stepping on eggshells; i have to be really careful what i tell her, i think, because i don’t think she knows what to think of me.

several times throughout these *recent* weeks, i have determined i don’t want to live anymore. i was thinking about that night, that night before i left for home to watch/wait until julia died, that i wanted to swim out in that cold ocean at the lighthouse at discovery park, and i just wanted to drown. i wanted to float until i couldn’t have the strength anymore; i wanted to be missing, when my flight came, and someone had to take me to the airport. i wanted to die right then and there, so i wouldn’t have to face what i was about to. susy told me she remembered how i was running around at caroline’s funeral, trying to make sure everyone was okay. and she told me, “but she was your sister too”, and i don’t think anything has struck so hard. i’m running around acting like i’m just a witness, i’m just the bystander, watching all these people die -- when in fact, these are my family members, this is my family, being scathed. and i’m like, how am i just only now wanting to die? kind of literally, how did it take this long? how have i been strong, for this long? i’m kind of floored. where has my breakdown been? i have been kind of crazy, but that was a bit mixed up in the context of super fucking fucked up friends and a dumbass stupid ass boy who just pressed all my buttons and made it feel WORSE. not an excuse, but just an additional factor. 

so yeah. i’ve wondered what it would feel like if I were dead. i feel like i’m just gonna fucking snap one day; i’ve known this for a really long time, i just haven’t known when/what it’s going to be over. but i just want to fucking snap. maybe its another crisis moment and this time i’m perched on the bridge going to gig harbor and someone is talking to me, a stranger, and then someone calls my mom for me, or i do cause i’m freaked out of what i was just thinking about doing. or maybe i tell my counselor, actually honestly this time, that i’m feeling this way, and she has to call someone or tell my parents and then it’s all out for me; but she feels helpless because literally we’re not even talking face to face, we’re just talking through a fucking screen. she can’t get to me: would she have to call authorities? that would be a mess for my roommates - definitely don’t want to do that. i wonder, too, even if i confided in my mom and maybe we shipped me away to california for a bit or i kind of just kept on the low, if anyone would find out. or if it’d only be through word of mouth. would it be some sort of public service announcement; hey, sarah is suicidal? what about whoever i live with? 

i mean let’s be real. i had two sisters die, two. two. siblings. and i am twenty two years old -- my life is a fucking tragedy? like it’s actually a tragedy. shouldn’t i be like, on drugs by now or something? shouldn’t i have an alcohol problem? shouldn’t i be dropping out of school; why aren’t i having a meltdown? why can’t i have a meltdown? the fucking so-called “friends” i had didn’t want to fucking deal with me anymore, even though I’m not quite certain what it was they had to “deal” with, since I literally didn’t dump anything on them. maybe i cried here and there a bit. but that was about it. i don’t know how i’m still fucking walking. i don’t know how i’m still fucking getting out of bed. what in the goddamn world does life have in store for me fucking now, huh? i get married and my husband will cheat on me, he’ll be a porn addict, my kid will have something wrong with them, i’ll have miscarriages or not be able to get pregnant? it’s my dad next, cause he’s killed his fucking body from the inside? gonna take my one and only rock, my mom, away from me? what the fuck even is this life, and how does anyone expect me to be normal, to be civil, to not express my feelings? i wasn’t fucking kidding when i asked people to be gentle with me. mom on the phone.. she said something like, we have to live the rest of our life understanding that our pain and our circumstances will almost always be “worse” then other people’s, but that’s just something we have to accept. that if we want people to be able to actually feel like they can tell us their shit, we have to kind of shut up about ours/recognize yeah, we kind of have it worse, always, ours will always “trump” theirs, but if people know that then they will be less likely to open up to us about it. something about that statement didn’t sit well with me. i think we need to teach people that families, individuals actually can go through this much shit at one time, and not to fucking back away from them. it’s like we have the chance to expose people to shit, so they can’t just hide in their comfy lives, or their fucking “light” problems -- we can give them a perspective change, show them what shit is actually worth complaining about. is that just angry? probably. but why should they get to express their shit on shit on us, literally, when i have been through fucking hell and back, fucking multiple times?! i have memory issues, i block out so much stuff for christ sake, because so much has goddamn happened?!? are you kidding me?

how am i able to smile at people? how am i able to go outside? how am i able to eat? how am i able to still worry if i will have these friends still? how am i fucking able to function? how am i able to not just fucking crawl in a hole and die? well i want to. you know i googled treatment centers a few days ago -- places that “whisk you away”, take away your phones and modes of communication, where you’re with other struggling people and lots of addicts, and you get up every day to their schedules and fucking, idk talk about your issues? why does that sound kind of fucking great? just fucking disappear for a few months, for the rest of the summer, and be in a treatment center in the middle of california or tuscon, arizona. that shit sounded good. i want to go to a looney bin, i want to check myself in, i want someone to sit with me and me tell them every single fucking bad thing that has ever happened in my life and have their fucking eyes get big, or maybe they get quiet and silently nod because they finally understand why i checked myself in or why i feel so fucked up and death-wishing. someone to look at me and stop saying “you’re so strong” but be like “it makes sense why you’re not able to be strong anymore, it makes sense why you can’t cope” -- someone just give me that fucking grace to just give the fuck up? i just want to give the fuck up. i’m done, i’m over it; i can’t keep living this way. there’s something i have to change, and i have to change it and it has to be big. i don’t know what the fuck it is but i’m so irritated. 

i’m in a high-crisis state. how do i tell anyone this? is it for attention, or is it real? can i just snap myself out of it, will i be able to get out of this one? do i want to be in this one? 

at this point, who would really miss me? who really benefits with me here? everyone is doing fine so far living without me; i guess all those times i was conflated to believe i was so missed, and so loved, here at SPU (think freshmen, sophomore year) wasn’t really true, afterall. cause i’m here, but i’m not being loved by them. i’m not important, anymore. i’m not important to see, to check in on, to ask how i’m doing. i’m just fucking done. i want to leave and never, fucking, come back to seattle. it’s made me feel unlovable. fuck seattle. fuck people. fuck them all. i don’t want to be here anymore. fuck this goddamn fucking life. why would a creator make us only to suffer in this fucking life? how am i ever supposed to recover after this? fuck you. FUCK you.

[mvalleefootball-blog]

Patriots Pummel Rudderless Broncos

By Michael Vallee

When Tom Brady sauntered into Mile High Stadium Sunday night I was reminded of that line from the movie Rounders, “I feel like Buckner walking back into Shea”.  While Brady is no Buckner, he did have to feel a little like Mike McDermott walking back into Teddy KGB’s basement lair.  Like McDermott, Brady was returning to the scene of arguably his worst beating.  The 20-18 score in the 2015 AFC Championship might have reflected a close game, but those numbers on the scoreboard said nothing of the relentless pounding Brady received from the Broncos.  Brady limped out of Denver that day with a 3-7 record and an 80.6 career QB rating in Denver.  Mile High had become his proverbial house of horrors.

That was then this is now.

The Broncos may still possess a lot of the same talent on defense but with the departures of quarterback Peyton Manning and most of their Super Bowl coaching staff, Denver is a shell of its former championship self.  They entered Sunday’s game an unimpressive 3-5 and on the outside looking in on the AFC playoff picture.  Far outside.  

Undaunted by previous Bronco beatdowns, unfazed by his surroundings and sensing a vastly inferior opponent, Brady pounced, tossing three touchdowns enroute to an easy 41-16 win.  If Brady was spooked by any Von Miller inspired demons he certainly didn’t show it.  Brady looked as calm and comfortable as he has all year, racking up a 125.4 QB rating.

Brady’s game experience Sunday night could not have been more different from that brutal Championship game two years ago, as he was hit just two times, a mere fraction of the 20 hits he took in the 2015 bloodbath.  

But this game was not all about Brady and the Patriots.

Denver looks lost.  A likely reflection of their first year head coach, Vance Joseph, who appears far out of his depth and is clearly not “HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE”.  Their offense is a sputtering mess, their once vaunted defense is 29th in the NFL in points allowed and their special teams is ranked dead last according to Football Outsiders.  All three deficiencies were on full display against New England.

The Broncos offense, helmed by Brock Osweiler who recently made his not-so-triumphant return to Denver, managed just one touchdown and was held scoreless for the final 22 minutes.  Denver’s defense, who apparently didn’t get the memo that New England likes to throw to their backs and work the middle of the field, allowed 16 receptions and three touchdowns to Patriot tight ends and running backs.  The short stuff was open all game with little adjustment from Denver’s overwhelmed rookie coach.

But the Broncos saved their worst for special teams where they experienced a complete and total meltdown.  After New England’s opening drive stalled, they punted to Denver’s Isaiah McKenzie who proceeded to muff Ryan Allen’s kick.  The Patriots recovered on the Broncos’ 24-yard line and scored two plays later.  Just over four minutes later, following a Denver field goal, Dion Lewis took the ensuing kickoff and coasted virtually untouched for a 103-yard touchdown.  It was a touchdown that could have been denied if Denver’s kicker didn’t allow Lewis to essentially run through him as if he was some kind of apparition.

Early in the second quarter the Broncos gifted the Patriots more points when they allowed Rex Burkhead to burst up the middle and swallow up a Bronco punt, leading to an eventual Gostkowski field goal.  For those of you keeping score at home, that’s a muffed punt, a blocked punt and a kick return TD in less than 20 minutes.  It might be the worst 20 minutes for a special teams unit in NFL history.  On Denver’s next field goal attempt I was all but expecting their kicker to get hit in the face with a pie just before he shanked it.

Imagine what might have happened if New England special teamer savant Matthew Slater wasn’t out with an injury.

With the first part of New England’s high altitude swing under their belt they now head to the even thinner hair of Mexico City to take on the disappointing Oakland Raiders.  A win over Oakland puts the Patriots at 8-2 and sets them on a potential home-field collision course with Pittsburgh week 15.  For now, however, the Patriots find themselves standing on familiar ground, at the top of the AFC.  Not bad for a team that started 2-2 and had Patriots fans from Bangor to Boston pressing the early season panic button.

Notes

Phil Simms 2.0:  What the hell has happened to Cris Collinsworth?  There was a time, not long ago, when Collinsworth was considered the best in the business.  Edgy, smart and interesting he possessed all the requisite qualities to be an elite game analyst.  Couple that with a relentless work ethic and Collinsworth was as good as it gets.  Now?  Not so much.  I’m not sure if he became so rich and famous he decided he didn’t want to offend anyone, or if he lost that early motivation that spurs most people starting a new job, or if he simply lost his fastball, but somewhere along the way Collinsworth has morphed into a spineless, annoying dolt that blathers on about nothing and tries to carve out time in every broadcast to kiss somebody’s ass at NFL headquarters.  The latest target of his unwavering ass kissery: NFL officials.

It wasn’t so much his desire to praise the officials that was the problem, but the bizarre Phil Simms-esque way that he did it.  During the broadcast while attempting to speak effusively about NFL officials and the many challenges they face he said this, “Sometime if you want to get a feel for how hard that job is, go into the NFL offices and check it out.”  What does that mean?  No, seriously, what does that mean?  I literally have no idea.  Is he implying any schmo can just show up at the headquarters of the most powerful and paranoid sports league on the planet and say, “Hey, I want to know about how hard it is to be an official”.  And then what happens?  How exactly do they illustrate how hard an official’s job is?  Do they usher you off to a room and play you a video?  Do they let you sit down with an NFL official so he can discuss the challenges he faces in the workplace?  Do they hire a dramatic actor to read the NFL rule book out loud?  Collinsworth is having more and more of these empty moments and it’s starting to drag down what was once the best broadcast team in the game.

The Butler Still Isn’t Doing It:  Rough day for Malcolm Butler who spent most of the day chasing Broncos wideout Emmanuel Sanders.  Sanders finished the game with 6 catches for 137 yards.  Impressive, considering his quarterback is some guy that has been released more times than O.J. Simpson.  More troubling is this marks the end of a good stretch of games by Butler and the only variable that was different Sunday night was the return of Stephon Gilmore.  It’s hard to fathom that Gilmore’s presence is actually affecting Butler’s ability to cover opposing wide receivers, but it’s not a theory that should be immediately dismissed.  The Gilmore signing has been in Butler’s head all year, something he, himself, has admitted, and it’s not unreasonable to wonder if Butler, when playing with Gilmore, feels a certain competitive fire that triggers him to freelance and take foolish chances.  Just a theory, but something worth monitoring.

Bum’s Kid Can Coach:  Wade Phillips was a lousy head coach but as defensive coordinator he is a certified wizard.  In 2015 and 2016, under Phillips, the Broncos defense finished 4th in scoring back-to-back years.  This year, with almost the exact same personnel, but a new coach, they are 29th.  Phillips is now the new D coordinator for the Rams.  Last year they had the 23rd ranked scoring defense.  In 2017 they are ranked 3rd.  The dude can coach.  

The Curious Case Of Martellus Bennett:  Martellus Bennett had an innocuous night on the stat sheet, hauling in 3 catches for 38 yards.  But those three catches triggered quite the shit storm in the context of how Bennett became a Patriot again.  A quick summary: Bennett was released by the Green Bay Packers with a “failure to disclose an injury” designation because they felt Bennett withheld that his shoulder was hurt when he signed a 3-year/21 million contract last March, causing him to explode on Instagram that not only were the Packers lying, their team doctor had pressured him to play with the injury, which then spurred a bunch of current and former Packers to vehemently defend the doctor and question the integrity of Bennett, who then was claimed off waivers by the Patriots and, despite telling Green Bay he was having season-ending surgery because he was in so much pain, played Sunday night for New England.  Got it.

Let’s try and answer a few of the questions at the heart of this mess:

Q:  Was Bennett injured when he signed with Green Bay?

A:  Players get physicals before they sign big contracts so it seems unlikely that Bennett had a significant injury last March that Green Bay was unaware of.  We won’t know for sure unless the situation is adjudicated and evidence is presented, which seems likely if the Packers intend on going after Bennett’s signing bonus.

Q:  Did Green Bay’s team doctor, Patrick McKenzie, pressure Bennett to play thru an injury?

A:  I don’t know Dr. McKenzie from Dr. Doolittle but when everybody that has worked with him rushes to immediately defend him and not a single story surfaces supporting Bennett’s claim, it makes Bennett look like he is full of it.  Most likely Bennett was simply pissed and decided to just start slinging arrows at anybody wearing green and gold.  Also the Bennett family has a history of having a tenuous relationship with the truth.

Q:  Did Bennett fake his injury?

A:  Highly doubtful.  Bennett claims he notified the Packers of his injury weekly on his body evaluation form and he says he met with several outside doctors about his shoulder.  Unless he is a compulsive liar that doesn’t mind being publicly humiliated when the truth comes out, it is unlikely that the injury is a complete fabrication.  

Q:  Did he quit on the Packers?

A:  Hell yeah.  Hard to argue that he didn’t when he told Green Bay he was shutting it down for the season then was seen galloping across the field in a Patriots uniform a few days later.  There’s an old adage in football, you’re either hurt or injured, and if you’re hurt, you play.  Bennett was clearly more hurt than injured but decided that catching passes from some scrub named Hundley just wasn’t worth the pain or risk.  Catching passes from the greatest quarterback that ever lived on the other hand, that’s a different story.  It also helps when the G.O.A.T. himself personally texts you and asks you to come back. 

Q:  Did the dark lord, Bill Belichick, orchestrate this entire thing?

A:  No, but the world would be a lot more interesting a place if he did.  It should surprise nobody that this is immediately what some assumed when New England claimed Bennett off waivers.  The Patriots have, um, had some trouble in the past with pushing the envelope to gain a competitive edge and this reputation mixed with good old fashioned jealousy has left them so far imbedded in their opponent’s heads that they even see Patriot conspiracies in the fog.  The reality is simple, New England saw a guy that both knew their system and played a position where they were thin and they grabbed him.  Initially, Bennett claims he was going to reject the Patriots and get surgery but had a revenge fueled change of heart, "After trying to get (shoulder) fixed and getting waived, you get that vengeance in your heart and you say 'fuck it, let's go ball.'"

Onto Mexico (try not to get kidnapped and don’t drink the water)