#making myself look like a fucking asshole. its rough in here though ill say that much

[crustuu]

i feel like im manipulating people into liking me. being an incessant asshole "grinding out" socialization with people to "max our stats" like it's a fucking video game. and like i know im human, im a social animal. socialization is Normal and im just Making Friends. but my brain fucking hates me i guess, because when i do it its actually because i have evil motives and im selfish and dont deserve to talk to people. i have nothing to offer, everyone around me is so much better than i could ever be and im just a waste of time. a waste of energy. it feels like i could be dropped at a moments notice when people realize i dont add anything of value so i get scared at any perceived threat. even tho theres no threats, nobodys gonna drop me, im fine, and people genuinely care about me. but also it is so hard to fully believe that, and i dont even know why.

[cobrastrid]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

FLUFF PROMPTS

“I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

“you make me feel alive. for the first time ever, i feel like i can breathe”

“i fucking love you” “hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober”

“i really want to kiss you right now” “do it then”

“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

“i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”

“Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

"Keep smiling at me like that."

"My God, you're so cute."

"You smiled at me..."

"You make me so unbelievably happy."

“You're such a doof."

"You're hands are so soft and tiny."

"I'm pretty certain that you are the only thing that fills my head these days."

"Tell me I'm cute or I'll tickle you."

"I couldn't let you leave without telling you that you are important to me."

“I am infatuated with you, my heart."

"Be still my heart."

"Your eyes... they're so beautiful."

"Oh, that smile—please never stop smiling. "

"Why do you shy away, little dove?"

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are? Because you really are."

ANGST PROMPTS

“i dont know how to exist in a world without you”

“The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.”

“did you at least think of me, when you were having sex with her?”

“no. the moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.”

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”

“i swear, if you say another word, i’ll leave.”

“that ship has sailed. i’ve had my one great love already”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!”

“if i asked you to stay, would you?”

“i don’t know who you are anymore”

“of course i still love you. but i hate myself for it.”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“i can’t have this argument with you again” “but-” “no. i’m done”

SMUT PROMPTS

“You’re not going out in that outfit.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You’re more than just a one night stand.”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

“You want me to give you your book/phone/item back? Make me.”

“Like what you see?”

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”

“We’re in public, you know.”

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“Dont be so rough. there cant be any marks.”

“I really don’t care. You still look hot and i’m trying not to kiss/fuck you senseless right now.”

“Are you sure? Once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

“No, i’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“Make me.”

“Stop teasing me so much..”

“You’re in trouble now.”

“I’m waiting.”

“First one to make a noise loses.”

“Mine.”

“We cant do that here!”

“What did you just say?”

“Come here.”

“Watch me.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

“If you cant sleep…then how about we have sex?”

“Put that thing away!”

“Don’t kink shame me.”

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”

“Bite me.”

“If you insist.”

“Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

“I love the sounds you make to me.”

“Just let me finish this/this level and i swear ill go down on you until you come at least three times.”

“Were you just masturbating?”

“U-uh..no, i was just..”

“Want some help?”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you come over here and make me.”

“You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“We’re not just friends and you know it.”

“C’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.”

“What? Does that feel good?”

“If we get caught i’m blaming you.”

“We have to be quiet.”

“Tell me again.”

“You have no idea how much i want you.”

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

“Wow, i didn’t realize you were that…flexible.”

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

“I think thats the first time i’ve heard you moan…it was like a melody.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“You’re not taking me to bed. ever.”

“Who said it had to be on the bed?”

“Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cuteee.”

“Make love to me?”

“Yep, thats me. I love to fuck.”

“How do i look?”

“Would you reconsider if i was sober?”

“I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification just from staring at him if i try hard enough.”

“Don’t fucking touch what is not yours.”

“You don’t need to cover up the bruises/hickeys.”

“I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.”

“We’re…..just friends.”

“Friends don’t do this kind of shit!”

“How quickly can you come?”

“There’s people here.”

“I don’t care what you do just fuck me.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m up for it if you are.”

“Don’t ruin the sofa.”

“Ill just have to come inside you then.”

“Stop dancing like that or i’m going to come in my pants.”

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”

“I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You look a bit tied up, want me to come back later?”ju

“Stop distracting me.”

“I know they’re just stuffed animals but doesn’t it feel weird? its like they’re watching us.”

“That’s probably the fastest i’ve ever done that.”

“Please, remind me again why we’re having sex behind a tree?”

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

“We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still horny?!”

“It was so worth the injury though!”

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”

“God damnit, now all i can think about right now is you licking my cock like its that ice cream cone.”

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?”

“Yes we can.”

[webster-akgae]

Picture this:

Liebgott is visibly pale and shaken by something. His hard boots thump against the dusty wooden floors of one of the many demolished buildings Easy Company had taken refuge in from the cold. What little color had started to flood back into his face from the small reprieve from the bitter cold had been lost. His hair was disheveled with his helmet dangling at his side seemingly forgotten in his unknown panic and confusion.

Lipton’s chapped, pink lips welcomed the hot, rich coffee that he’d been indulging himself in since they’d come to Hagenau. His cheeks and nose were still a dusty pink from the frigid outside and his fingers and toes still were frozen like ice, but the mushy couch inside the somewhat heated, completely destroyed building he’d found himself in was like heaven on earth. The lopsided table in front of him was littered with maps and his own stark handwriting, something Speirs had reprimanded him for, his pneumonia had only began to lift, but his restlessness had grown more and more.

The sound of someone approaching made him look up from his steaming cup of coffee. It had been a quiet morning so far not even a single mortar had hit the ground. It set Lipton on edge. Nothing was ever that easy.

Liebgott emerged through the torn up hallway looking as sad as its wallpaper. That in particular didn’t set well with Lipton. For how prickly the man could be, a loud mouth asshole and a terribly good shot, he always found his way around a joke or anything to brighten the mood, likely at someone else’s expense. He’d never seen Liebgott in this kind of shape though, he’d seen him broken up and shaken in Bastogne, but he’d never seen the way the color drained from his face, his fingers twitched, his worried eyes that couldn’t seem to focus on anything for more than a second.

“Lieb,” Lipton’s unsure voice greeted, “What brings you here?”

The tips of his fingers idly tapped and fiddled against the rim of his helmet and his eyes tried to meet the other man’s. “I-I need some help, Lip.”

The pit that had began to grow in Lipton’s stomach doubled. His men were many things, rough, dirty, downright stubborn soldiers who didn’t ask for help, at least not someone you weren’t buddies with, and him and Liebgott weren’t particularly close. The man in front of him was no short of a hardworked paratrooper, one of the toughest in the company, and the notion that he was in enough of a dilemma to ask for help of all things didn’t sit right.

“Help with what?” Was Lipton’s hesitant reply.

Liebgott ran a tattered gloved hand down his face and sighed deeply as if he’d been holding his breath, “I just need you to listen. Just a minute is all I’m asking.”

Lipton nodded slowly and scooted over to the edge of the small couch with an unspoken offer. Liebgott took it without a word, sitting next to him and setting his helmet onto the table, but his body didn’t relax. His elbows perched onto his knees and his dark eyes pierced the dirty floor.

“Me and Web... He’s been back only... what? Two weeks? Three?” Liebgott swallowed hard, “I love him, I love him so much, Lip.”

Lipton’s brows furrowed and confusion wrapped around his expression like a rope though it went unnoticed to the man next to him. Webster? What about him?

It was no secret the two had been sweet on each other since Toccoa, but the surprise of them both being as serious as they were took everyone by shock. Liebgott already had a reputation back at boot camp that he was a smooth talker and a fine shoot. He was liked well by Easy despite his loud mouth. Webster wasn’t as acquainted, he’d transferred from Fox in the middle of it all and left him a bit outcast from the men who’d known each other. But he’d eventually grow fond in the eyes of Easy and especially fond in the eyes of Joseph Liebgott.

They were completely different. Lieb was a cab driver in San Fransisco and Web was a Harvard student from New York. One spent almost all of his free time nose stuck in his notebook while the other liked to shoot the shit with almost anyone. It came as a complete surprise when Webster and Liebgott started crowding one another anytime they could. Since then, it was always if there’s one, the other was close. The only other time Lipton had seen Liebgott like this was back in Holland when Webster was wounded, but he’d calmed down once he’d started receiving letters that he never let anyone else read. Lipton seeing him even worse now had him confused.

“He’d just got back and we- we made love.” Liebgott, shark teeth and all, using the term ‘made love’ had Lipton disguising his surprised chuckle as a cough, the drink of coffee he was going for spit right back into the mug.

He wiped his dripping chin with the back of his hand, “What?” Lipton coughed.

“Just listen, okay?” Liebgott wiped a hand down his face in exasperation. “We made love and- and I didn’t pull out.”

Lipton stared at the pale side of Liebgott’s face that remained dead serious and poised on the ground in a mixture of shame and worry. He’d faced plently of nerve wracking situations, they were fucking paratroopers, but he’d never trained for this. What the hell even is this?!

He made a scratchy noise in the back of his throat. “What?” His voice came out as a shallow husk.

“Fuck, I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do. It’s all my fucking fault.” Liebgott buried his face in his hands. “I want this with him, I want it so bad, but now? We’re in a goddamn war.”

Lipton abruptly stood up, fast enough to hear his knees crack. “What?!”

“I know I fucked up, Lip. I can’t stop fucking thinking about it.” The man frustratedly ran his fingers through his hair.

“SPEIRS!” For the first time in weeks, Lipton was up on his feet.

Rapid footfalls against the floor from wherever in the destroyed building quickly followed. “Lieutenant?” His gallivanting stopped right before him, eyes wide looking for danger of a threat.

Liebgott had stood up in his place, face forlorn and downcast. He tried to say something, but Lipton gave him a sharp look.

“Come here.” His finger sternly pointed down at the ground next to him like he was commanding a toddler. “And tell him what you just told me.”

Liebgott trudged next to him with the pace of a scolded dog. His nimble fingers ran through his hair and his chest heaved a sigh.

“I might have gotten Webster pregnant, sir.”

Speirs froze in his place. Lipton flicked his eyes between the two and readied for whatever reaction there might have been. He’d been holding back a laugh or rather a yell at Liebgott for thinking he could get Webster fucking pregnant-

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Was not what Lipton was expecting. “We’re on the front lines, right in the middle of a goddamn war, and you went and did something like this, soldier?!” Lipton stared blankly at Speirs who was now chewing Liebgott out like he was the father of an irresponsible teenager.

“What’s going on?” A new voice from behind them asked, almost completely overpowered by Speirs who was now making wide gestures while Liebgott looked on in shame.

There Webster was looking just as confused as Lipton felt. His helmet was slouched to the right and his stance was somewhat off. His blue eyes stared on at the scene before him, widening when Speirs kept going on about responsibility and supporting him of all things.

“I have absolutely no clue anymore.” Lipton deadpanned.

Webster stepped closer to them and his footsteps made himself known over Speirs’ lecture, who immediately quieted his words and centered in on the bewildered man. Cold hands suddenly wrapped around his and tugged him forward with prying eyes peering at him as if he had some sort of affliction. He tried to recoil and say something as to why the abrasive and brutal Speirs was coddling his hands and hushing him like a child.

“How’re you feeling, David? Have you been sick at all?” Webster had never heard Speirs talk in such a soft tone, it confused him.

Was there something going around? He hadn’t seen anyone be ill other than coughing or sneezing from the cold, Doc Roe who he’d seen stitching a man’s leg up from a mortar hadn’t seemed weary of any illness.

“Just answer the question, Webster.” Lipton gave him a look of grief.

He swallowed, “No… I feel fine. Is something wrong?”

“It could be too early, but we shouldn’t worry for nothing. You might not even be-“

“Might not even be what?” David barked over Joe.

“Pregnant.” Outcame from the two, Lipton scrubbing his neck in exasperation.

Silence. That was David’s response before he turned to Lipton.

“I’m going to go turn myself into the Germans. Are you coming?”

“Sure am.”

[stardancerluv]

Being a Good Friend

Part 5a

Summary: Flirtations over drinks..

Warning: Drinking, language

As you walked in, you were simply taken with bar’s warm atmosphere. The two of you found a cozy corner.

“I’ve never been here.” You looked around.

Shivering, Alex smirked as he shed his puffy winter coat.

“I picked a new place?” He rose his eyebrows smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

He came over took your dainty, much smaller hands into his, “Blocks of ice.” He shook his head as he gave you a sympathetic look. He rubbed your hands. “Would you like to order our drinks, while I use the men’s room?”

“Sure.” He squeezed, your hands.

Smiling, you grabbed the drinks and went back to the cozy corner. You were happy that Alex was already back.

He took the glass from you. “Thank you.” He smiled at you over the glass before taking a sip.

Coming around the wooden table you sat down near him. You squeaked as his arm wrapped around your waist, he pulled to his side so there was no space between you. “I’m not letting you get from me the rest of the night.”

“I like the sound of that.”

He held up his whiskey, “To our liaison and fuck off to the others.” You clinked your glass with his and smiled. “To our sordid sexual liaison.” Remembering, his words and smiling, you both took a sip from your drinks. Under the table, he rested his hand on your thigh.

“Had I told you, I love how you look tonight.”

You flushed. “Was hoping to look cute for you.”

He squeezed your thigh. “You do.” He smirked. “So tell me,” His fingers drummed on your thigh. “Let’s get to know each other some more, yeah?”

“Alright, though I am finding it a little hard to focus.” You took a sip of your drink.

“Oh? Are you?” He squeezed your thigh.

“Yes, a bit.” His blue eyes eyes were alit with mischief. “Maybe you shouldn’t have a third.”

“You know why.” You said a little breathlessly meeting his eyes.

He squeezed harder. “Well, I do enjoy touching you. You will have to get used to it.”

“I suppose I will.”

“Alright so question number one.” He drummed his fingers again on your thigh as he pressed his lips together. “Ah yes ok, how many boyfriends have you had?”

“Three. How many girlfriends?” You easily replied back and took a sip.

Sighing, he grimaced. “I am a bit of a dog.” He looked away, then back at you. “I’ve had six.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?”

You moved, close enough to place some soft kisses on his throat, he sighed. “Y/N.” He breathed. His aftershave tickled your nose and as you felt his hand on your thigh, a boldness came over you. “You so incredibly attractive if I’m going to be honest.” You placed a few more kisses on his throat. “And if you were a dog as you say,” You whispered. “You would have let me remained passed out on the sofa.”

You pulled back smiling at him, took a healthy sip of your drink.

“I couldn’t let that happen.” He shrugged. “I guess you’re right.” He leaned in close, a mischievous smile spread across his face, your heart thudded harder in your chest. “I just learned something without even having to ask.”

You leaned in like he did. “And what is that?”

“You can be a bit of a tease and well,” he smirked. “And I like how your lips feel on me.”

“Oh!” Your lips made a an O and you felt heat fill your cheers. You gasped as he kissed you but it was over almost as soon as it begun. Your heart felt like it was going to burst. “When did I tease you?”

He swished the golden liquid in his glass before drinking it. “When?” At the moment, you were all a happy jumble, not being to recall anything that in particular.

“I naked above you in bed, you friend was standing in your door way and you kissed my chest.”

Butterflies flapped their way through you. He certainly, knew how to make you wet by simply talking. He was driving you crazy. “Well, your chest was there and well...” your words disappeared as his hand drifted higher up your thigh. Though a whimper came from you that you couldn’t stifle.

“How much do you enjoy my hands on you?”

“I like it very much. Just so you know, I think you are quiet a tease as well.” You finally were able to speak. And you finished your drink.

He licked his bottom lip and smirked. “I can’t stop myself around you.”

“Would you like another whiskey?”

“Yes, thank you.” He squeezed your thigh. “Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek before you slid away.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from his hand on your thigh. “I’ll think of another question by the time you come back.” He winked at you.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

As you leaned against the bar while waiting for the bartender, your heart calmed a little. You watched as he took out a cigarette and lit it. How could he make a habit like that, look attractive you mused.

You ordered another round happily. A familiar voice, came from behind you, it made your stomach lurch.

“Y/N, I was wondering if that was you.”

You closed and opened your eyes, standing up you sighed annoyed. It was your ex-boyfriend who was convinced that one day you would come back to him.

“Hello, Jeffrey.”

He closed the short distant between the two of you. You stepped back. He moved with you. His sour smell continued to make your stomach lurch. He followed you. You looked over your shoulder at Alex.

His eyes, slid up and down you. You shivered.

“So, who’s that guy?”

“None of your business.”

“Come on. Are you on a date?”

“I am.”

He rose an eyebrow. “You know,” he stood practically against you. “I still think you should give me another chance.”

He pushed at him. “Jeffrey, please.”

He grabbed, your hand. “Is he making you bold? Is that why you pushed me? Come on, leave him. He looks..” he glanced back at Alex.

You tried to catch his eye.

“He looks boring.”

“He’s funny and exciting.”

“Tell yourself that. You just miss me.”

You shook your head. The bartender finally came back and you paid him. Grabbing, your drinks you side stepped Jeffrey.

Alex, exhaled and finished the last of his cigarette. You smiled at him but it dropped when you felt Jeffrey put his arm around your shoulders. Confusion, you saw wrinkle Alex’s brow.

“Help.” You mouthed at him. He stood up and met you halfway.

An edge, came over his face. “Remove your arm from my girl.” He took the drinks from you and put them on the table.

Jeff let out a wet chuckle, he squeezed your shoulder. “I mean no harm, Y/N and I go away back. You managed to disentangle yourself from Jeff.

“Baby,” Alex, looked at you and then at Jeffrey. “Who is this?”

“The man who made all her who she is today.” Jeff, stepped closer to Alex. You rolled your eyes.

“Jeffrey, stop.” Rolling your shoulders, you managed to shrug off his arm. “Alex this is my ex.” Your voice flat.

“Great! Well, you can go on now. I’d like to enjoy the rest of night with Y/N.” He smiled brightly.

Jeff grabbed and straddled a chair from the table you two sat at. “So, who are you?”

“Look, we didn’t invite you. Y/N obviously doesn’t want you here and I don’t, please leave.”

He stood up. “I’m being friendly. And you should know who she will be crawling back to.” His smug look made you ill.

“Oh?” Alex, puffed up and smirked while wrapping an arm around you. “I don’t see that happening, I’ll be keeping her quite busy. We barely, made it here.” His possessive words, you had to admit turned you on.

“Y/N..” You looked and relief filled you. Jeffrey maybe an asshole but his brother was a decent fellow. “What are you doing here?” He had a genuinely warm smile.

“Brian, I’m on a date and Jeffrey is not leaving me alone.”

He looked at his brother and tugged at him. “Comon’ Jeff, leave her be we have to get going.”

He shrugged.

“Jeff, come on. Allison and Bria are waiting for us.” Brian, pulled on his brother his time.

“Fine. I’ll go. Here’s a tip,” He leaned in close to Alex. “She’s a hard-on killer.” He spat out, before turning to leave.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you Brian.” Annoyed, you finally sat back down and drank half of your drink. Though you were relieved as you watched the two men walked out.

Alex, you noticed had walked up to the bar and was returning with shots. You rose an eyebrow. He slid one in front you. “What did you get us?” Coming around he sat beside you.

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it, trust me. He held up his own shot glass. “Fuck exes.” He clinked his shot glass against yours.

“I’ll drink to that.” You clinked his. Your eyes met and you kicked back the amber liquid. “Oh...oh...” You coughed but then sighed as the rough liquid became very smooth and pleasant. “That is a nice scotch.”

He smiled, then leaned in close. “Y/N,” He placed a kiss, near the edge of jaw near your ear. “For the record, baby ever since we met I’ve been struggling with how hard you make me.” He snickered darkly.

“Oh really?” You tried to give him an innocent look. The liquor was beginning to wash over you in a warm haze.

“Yes.” His hand made his way back to your thigh.

“Maybe we should get out of here then.” Being out had run its course, his words and his touches made you want more.

“I’d like that.” He smiled at you over his glass and then finished his whiskey.

@theblackmaskclub @rosionis @brookisbi @johallzy @darling-i-read-it @guns-n-marvel @proffesionalclown @starwarsslytherin @obiwankenobiness

[jenna-jayde-the-renagade]

When i was 13, i found out that men can and do become women. That there was a word for the way i felt inside: transgender. All i had to do in order to be who i am is reach out to the right people, seek help and support.

However, it isnt always so easy. Our world judges people like us in alot of scenarios, and for a kid who just wanted to live her best little life that was a scary concept. So i hid it, i did well until i was 15 and 16. My dad and my stepmom went through my room, twice. On both occasions they found womens clothing, which i would quite often wear to bed cause i felt so soothed by the soft fabric. I had leggings, and panties, and a sports bra, and a white tank top the first time. Even back then i always loved the way leggings hugged my lower half, and how relaxing and comfortable sleep was in them. Back then it was a source of comfort, i "dressed up" in order to cull the anxiety i had from putting on this mask every day. It was killing me.

I made fun of, i bullied my own kind, i bullied the LGBTQ community as a whole. I did it because i wanted to distance myself from my own identity, and cause i was jealous of other trans women who were already in their transitions and living their best lives!! I became a homophobic, misogynistic asshole to just get away from it, and to make sure nobody would ever expect it. I hate that period of my life, i look back on it in deep shame.

But then one day i moved into a place that i would eventually feel safe in. I was 18 now, and just starting to really get worn down by drugs and mental illness. But i turned around there, and i got really close to the staff at this group home. They supported me like my parents would, even though they were a different nationality and spoke bad english i felt closer to the group home workers than almost anyone else. They talked me down when i was mad or crying. They helped me get further in life. I had thoughts of coming out one day, and how i could probably do it both in vancouver and in this house. I had thoughts of how it would go. Who to tell first, it raged in my head for a couple weeks. But one day i was with my therapist, we were driving around and i had just gotten a cheddar bacon angus burger from mcdonalds with a vanilla bean frappuccino to drink. But before i could eat, my stomach wouldnt let me go on without telling my therapist whats really going on.

"I dont know how to say this ashley, but its been on my mind since i was 13 and ive planned out the whole process in my head already! Im fucking trans, im a woman, i want to be a girl and im tired of putting on this rough and tough mask just to try and fit in and be a man!! Im tired of rough, i want soft!! I want to have boobs!! I want to have nice long legs with thick hips! I want to see the sparkle come back to my eyes! I want to see my smile have happyness behind it, and not nothing, im tired of faking it!! Im scared, i could never do this around my dad, or in kelowna!! But ive got a fresh start in this city, and i know i can do it with the supports i have!! Everything i did was to please someone else, and i tried to be the best man i could to hide it.. im not a man though, im a happy, beautiful girl and im tired of hiding her!!"

That was 2017, in the spring. I was a drug addict back then, and i lived full time as a girl for 3 whole months!! Although i was so happy, and felt so comfortable in my skin i couldnt handle it once i lost my supports on top of my addiction.

On september 14th 2017, i buried Jenna for a while. I felt so horrible, even rhough i knew it was temporary i didnt know how temporary it would be. I was scared to be a boy now, and i felt even more dysphoric full well knowing the result of transitioning and the improvements to my mental health. Burying jenna was burying who i am. It couldn't last long, and once i got sober on december 15th 2018, and got myself into a safe space again in march. By late april i couldnt hold jenna inside me anymore, she needed out, jenna needed to bloom and grow big and strong!! I came out a second time to my mother and my grandmother who were both as accepting as two people who know no trans people aside from me can be. It went well, i told them it was time for me to resume my transition.

They were there for me when i reached out to Skipping stone, and got hooked up with a gender therapist. By august i had a date for when i would start hormones, october 9th 2019. On october 9th i was tense, i just wanted it to go right. I even had a little freakout in my appointment at my phone. But, after driving an hour and half each way, i walked out of my doctors office still in boy mode, but with a script for cyproterone and estradiol!! I started that night!!

When i started hrt, i was a different person in two weeks, i wasnt jayden, i was jenna. I acted way more feminine, my skin got softer, my erogenous zones changed, my voice got higher, my testicles shrunk. The feminization process had begun! I had emotional breaks here and there, and it hasnt been easy all the time. But my bad days today are still better than my best days when i was playing a character, acting as jayden. Today when i get sad, i put on something cute, and i take some cute pics and i look at them. I love it when i can honestly say, i love the way im changing. How my face lost the wrinkles of 5 years of bad habits in two months!! How my breasts are here and so so sensitive, i feel them moving on my chest and theyre like little stress sacks there for me to squeeze and hold when im feeling down!! I love the feeling of weight on my chest, and the jiggle when i walk or hit bumps on my bike! My medical transition so far is destroying any bit of my dysphoria!

I think trans is beautiful, because theres something just so positive, so god damn enlightening and beautiful. About one mans journey to woman. My body is changing, its curves being accentuated, its features becoming more noticeable by the day. I feel so much joy when i see a change, when i notice my body looks feminine. Or when i get compliments, like "my god youve got legs for days!!" It makes me know for a fact i chose right, cause im a beautiful girl, going through this beautiful process with beautiful changes.

Jenna jayde is a girl, i wasnt born a girl, but i make a better girl than i ever could have a boy. Wearing clothes that make me happy, and feel hugged all over from the soft tight fabric. Feeling emotions i never thought existed after a while on hrt!

Its so beautiful, like a sunflower swaying slightly in the summer breeze!

Life is better now, its worth standing up and fighting for.

Woot woot!! Its trans positivity jenna!! Woot woot!!

[iliveonmylaptop]

Disappeared

(In which my I wish my DM took obvious plot hooks so I could play my secondary character oh well guess I’ll do it myself)

To say the heist went off smoothly would be a blatant lie, but it was actually successful in the very least so they couldn’t do too much complaining about it in the end. 

One tense, waterlogged night later, and Amir had his mech and his anti-scrying necklace, Navryn had a new charm to stave off her illness a little while longer, and the rest of them had some new bruises and a good amount of money.

Now the night later, Amir had bid them farewell and vanished to supposedly start avoiding Ravenwatch. Meanwhile, Gilther had nabbed a small amount of funds from the Bank of Miry and practically commandeered a nearby tavern to throw an impromptu party to the success of their mission. 

That’s Gilther for you, Alwin figured.

The others had joined in, though Nav had bowed out early to retreat to her room in the inn they were staying in. Alwin suspected that she was still feeling the effects from such a high-intensity adventure. She’d been coughing a lot more in the past few hours, waving off his concern when he asked with just a weak smile. So he had let it go. 

Alwin wasn’t really a party person in general, but tonight was going especially poorly for him. He still hadn’t had the chance to meditate yet and was nursing a nice new scar on his upper left arm; courtesy of a Child of Athos’s lucky dagger strike. So here he was. Outside the festivities, by himself. As usual. 

It was dark and cool out. The sun had set several hours ago and the taverns lights were still shining brightly, thanks to the party. Alwin sighed, resting against the stone blocks that made up the wall behind him. He was definitely feeling last nights exertions. His whole body ached with a low ambient pain and he had that exhausted swirl behind his eyes that marked him being all out of spells for the moment. 

He took one last glance at the tavern, smiled tiredly, and pushed off the wall. Maybe a walk would clear his head. 

Tent Town was quiet, even for this time of night. Alwin breathed in deeply, taking in the sour stench of misery wafting below the cooler tones of the salt air. Nethis was a city like any other. Still, something about it felt… off. It was so crowded with people, overflowing with poverty and general unrest. The city seemed to press in on him, almost suffocating in its size. It’d been a long time since he’d been this anxious about his surroundings. 

Maybe it was his upbringing talking. Trees aren’t nearly as noisy as people.

Alwin paused at the end of a row of tents, rolling his shoulders and wincing. Damn. Maybe walking wasn’t the best choice when he was still this tired. He instinctively went to tug on his bracers, getting a flicker of surprise and then irritation when he remembered they weren’t there.

He wasn’t used to roaming around without his armor on. But it had gotten soaked on the previous mission and it needed some drying out in his room before he could re-treat the leather and be able to wear it again. 

Alwin sighed again, claiming a seat on a nearby stump. He was being ridiculous, wasn’t he. Oh well. 

“Got anything to say?” he murmured, glancing up at the moon. It was a mere sliver in the sky at this stage, forcing his night vision to work for every foot of sight he got. “Am I still on track for you, Goddess? Are heists in your grand cosmic plan?”

The moon, predictably, did not reply. Alwin laughed, a soft huff in the still air. “Didn’t think so.”

“You’re out late.”

Alwin flinched with a full body motion, spinning in his seat with hands instinctively raised. What the fuck…?

Amir stepped out of the shadows, eyebrow raised. Alwin blinked and relaxed a hair, bringing a hand over his chest.

“Damn, you scared the living stars out of me,” he said. He shook his head, squinting back at the thief. “Kinda rude, actually. Weren’t you supposed to have scampered off with your prize?”

Amir chuckled. He tugged at a cord beneath his hood, giving a silver glimpse of the charm they’d stolen for him. 

“I have a passage on a ship leaving in an hour or so. My cargo is already on board, ready for some insurance. Ravenwatch won’t be finding me anytime soon with this, anyways.”

Alwin nodded, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his eyes. Something was buzzing in the back of his head, an old suspicion to not trust any thieves guilds. Amir seemed… alright, though. He hadn’t done anything super shady so far, and he was doing his best to get away from Ravenwatch, something Alwin could appreciate at the very least. 

��So, other than doing your best to put our party’s rogue to shame with your sneaking skills, what are you doing out here?”

Amir smirked, casually claiming a seat next to him. 

“I have to wait somewhere, don’t I?” He said while Alwin wondered if it would be overly rude to shift away. “Besides, I wanted to thank you.”

Alwin snorted, fiddling with his gloves. “Yeah you already did that. The gold is nice.”

“I meant you, specifically.”

Alwin paused, giving him a steady look as his instincts sang in warning. Amir’s face was still mostly hidden in the shadows of his hood, making his face hard to read at this angle. 

“Why?” He asked flatly. “You didn’t seem so thrilled about the rest of us tagging on. You only wanted Thora; for the heavy lifting. What makes me so special in your eyes all of a sudden?”

“That is a question, isn’t it,” Amir mused. “Who are you, Alwin? The wandering vagabond? A rogue cleric on a mission from his goddess, as you claim?” His voice dropped. “Or are the rumors true?”

Alwin flicked his eyes around them. It was quiet, with no one else in sight. This was… not great. He curled his fingers against the rough wood, missing his staff and wishing for maybe an extra five or six spell slots. 

“What rumors, exactly?” He finally said. Amir seemed to smile at his tight tone, a glimmer of white teeth peeking out from the shadows. 

“I may not be part of Ravenwatch anymore, but they do deal in information. Now imagine my surprise when some old contacts had a significant amount of information on you. You’re a long way from home, te’krula.”

Alwin stood up, heart hammering. He knew it this was foolish he knew people would know why didn’t his party take him seriously-

“This conversation is over,” he snapped. His hands were shaking from nervous energy, and he shoved it down. 

“No, I don’t think it is,” Amir said, soft. Alwin snarled as Amir’s hand shot out, grabbing his elbow. He whirled on him, already summoning a handful of arcane flames. 

“Don’t even think about it you piece of- ” Alwin gasped, stumbling momentarily as a sharp pain bloomed in his rib cage where Amir had buried a needle-like dagger in a lightning-quick movement. 

Amir tried to back up after his strike, but Alwin grabbed a handful of his cloak as leverage to punch him directly in the face with his flaming hand. The thief stumbled backwards with a curse, hand immediately going to the seared flesh across his cheekbone. Alwin yanked out the dagger after a moment, barely even wincing at the trickle of blood. He threw it aside with a contemptuous motion, the metal disappearing into the scraggly grass. 

“I’m not gonna give you a second shot, asshole,” Alwin spat. He reached for his magic, the beginnings of thorns growing out from the ground beneath his feet. His hands trembled, which he ignored.

And Amir- laughed. 

“I don’t need a second shot.” He wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, grinning. “The first was enough.”

A wave of dizziness spun over Alwin and his eyes went wide in realization. The trembling in his hands stilled, along with the rest of the movement in his body.

“Fuck,” he rasped, swaying as his joints and muscles locked up. “What the fuck- did…”

“A paralytic poison,” Amir said, watching Alwin struggle uselessly against his own body with a distinct amount of satisfied interest. “ Don’t worry- it won’t kill you. It’s not strong enough to stop your heart.”

Breathing was hard, but it was all he could focus on as his body stopped answering to him. Alwin screamed internally as his jaw locked up with the rest of him, stopping the verbal component needed for his spell-casting. The vines shriveled away, disappearing with the last of his magical capabilities. 

He collapsed. 

I knew it, his frantic thoughts said, swirling around in his frozen head. I knew it I knew it I knew this would happen- 

Amir knelt next to him, cocking his head curiously. 

“I’m always surprised by how quickly that poison takes effect. Still,” he brushed a lock of hair out of Alwin’s face, calmly meeting his furious gaze. “Can’t be too careful when dealing with spellcasters. Especially not ones of… your caliber,” he chuckled. 

Fuck you, Alwin wanted to scream, but all that came out was a strangled growl. The instinctive terror of once again being helpless, flat on his back, burned into rage at Amir, at the world, at himself for once again letting his guard down when he had just started thinking that maybe he’d be ok, that just maybe he’d finally found some people he could stay with. But he couldn’t say it- just stare upwards at the man who was casually going to take it away. Amir seemed to get the message anyway. 

“You’re probably wondering what this is about,” the thief continued. He was currently rummaging through his bag, pulling out some loops of rope and something leather that Alwin couldn’t make out, frozen on the damp grass as he was. “To put it simply- you’re my insurance.” A firm hand pushed him on to his side, so Amir could start the process of binding his hands behind his back. “You’re worth a lot in certain circles. Alive, again, so don’t think that I went through all this trouble just to kill you.”

Alwin’s breath hissed through his teeth, unable to answer- not that he wanted to at this point. Amir only hummed from where he was, pulling the ropes tight with practiced ease. 

“Someone in Athos will be very happy to have the sole heir to Terranith at their disposal,” Amir said. He finished on Alwin’s wrists, moving up to his shoulders. Alwin shuddered as the rope looped around his chest, the act of breathing starting to escape him as the poison ran its course. Amir appeared to notice and paused as Alwin’s vision starting swimming into black.

He patted his captive’s shoulder, clicking his tongue sympathetically. “But that will be your problem- not mine.”

Alwin finally let go, world fading into darkness, and he knew no more.

--------

So the storyteller in me is screeching right now.

 Also- I write these for me. But if even one person enjoys reading these, I’ll continue posting them here on tumblr. (My Burn Scars comp seems to have gotten deleted? I guess I’ll have to repost the whole thing.)

Hey if you want more Alwin and the Inhumans stuff, how about leaving a like or a reblog? (Or an ask I talk way too much about everything and will yell at you for like an hour about it)

[kaytymfknelise-blog]

I have no idea what I am doing

So, i had this bright idea to make a blog. I guess the idea behind this is to just let people know there is hope, even though life is hard, and fast, and confusing af.  So, I guess today I’m just gonna spew off who i am and how i got to this point.  So the first thing you should all know is that i am a lifestyle coach. My mission is to inspire people and help them get through the rough stuff, cause I’m like a pro at it.  Also, I am an addict in recovery.  I had a serious 5 year love affair with heroin.  They told me during my 4 months in rehab that 1. relapses happen and 2. Don’t expect anything to work out the way you think, don’t depend on ANYTHING but yourself.  Well, I was 25 then and i knew more then them, obviously! I wasn’t ready to grow.  I was ready to learn, but i was definitely in control of my life and knew all the right things.  (this is sarcasm, for those of you a bit confused) So I left rehab and killed the mother fucking game for 6 months.  Then I moved closer to my old stomping grounds, went to a bonfire and got mixed up with some old friends, and some new ones.  The night ended with me being to drunk to remember how I got home, or who my new boyfriend was.  That new boyfriend did coke, which I’d done when i was like in high school, but hadn’t touched it in years, I didn’t then either, but the seed was planted. After he dumped me and tried to hand me off to one of his friends, I felt like shit, so I asked for coke. Instead I found crack.  In 3 months I went from 100% sober to being the worst junkie i had ever been. My dealers hated me cause I was annoying as fuck, but they would benefit by the end, so fuck em’. My husband (now ex-husband) decided he would start selling crack! Brilliant idea when your wife is a crack fiend.  Then this dude left me in charge of his night sales, cause I obviously didn’t sleep. Well I smoked all the crack - can you believe it?  We were broke, I was a terrible human, I had lost myself for the billionth time, but this time I had 6 months sober, so I knew this was possible.  Recovery is different for everyone, for me my environment is a huge factor, I have to completely relocate to maintain my sobriety. So after 5 years of my mom begging for me to come to Maine, I finally go. (worst. decision. ever. but we will get there!). So now i am a very recent ex stripper, covered in tattoos, with purple hair-in the most judgemental place I have ever been. Well to say I stood out would be a massive understatement. I mean the way spanish and black dudes look at white chicks with nice butts; that's how these conservative bible humpers looked at me. I had never seen anything like it, and i was a white girl with a nice butt in the hood, so Ive gotten looks! It didn’t take me long to get a job and get myself out there, I colored my hair black (boring), took out my piercings (lame), and stopped wearing high heels (why?). But I was a waitress, I was sober,making bank, had a beautiful family I was pretty happy.  4 years go by, I get yet another boyfriend (I’m way divorced by this point), who decides to punch my kitchen window out. Well, apparently in the state of Maine when you call the police because you feel unsafe, they take away your kids.  So, here I am  soberish (wine is a thing) with no kids, and no clue wtf just happened.  So, when your manic bipolar and your life is falling apart you do some crazy shit, have sex with everyone (my personal fave), spend all your money (I like this one too), Pick up and move your entire life within like 7 hours (this one is fun as well). So I found the biggest, baddest, “sexiest” dude I could.  He spent 20 years in prison, was a felon, no job, no car - ya know, a real winner.  Well this man, I don’t know what it was about him, but my god he has a knack for ruining fucking lives, or getting you to ruin your own is probably more accurate. Well, this asshole brings a bag of heroin IN MY FUCKING HOUSE and offers it to me.  So I’m the type of junkie that if i cant IV that shit, ill pass - that’s wasting.  Well when you have fake balls you have to shoot testosterone, how convenient. Now I’m banging dope after 4 YEARS sober *face palm*.  Well this dude and my best friend of 3 years fucked in my bed and left together, their still together tho, so there’s a positive?  Well, losing my best friend was fucking HARD; I mean that girl was my WHOLE LIFE, like I cant even explain the closeness I *thought* we had. So guess what I did? Heroin, that’s what. Did that shit 2 more times, then was like dude, wtf are you doing!? I stopped for awhile, but when the state took my kids, one went to her dad - so I had to go to CT to see her.  So I pull into Hartford, CT (this is my biggest trigger, i know exactly where to get everything I need, quickly. I avoid Hartford at all costs).  So, I pull in and my original plans fell through, so I called my friend to chill, but upon arrival that also fell through. Bad bad news.  So I go shoot up, and overdose. this being the THIRD time I ODd, and the worst biggest fuck up because my kid wasn’t far. Hate me all ya want, It was horrible and disgusting, I agree - but it happened. About 4/5 days before my overdose I joined this amazing group of ladies, all rocking their businesses, getting fit, and being GENUINELY happy.  When I saw this, I knew I wanted it.  When I overdosed, I knew I needed it. Fast forward to today, its been a month or so since that horrific day, I have a med card so besides bud I haven’t put anything substance like in my body.  I have lost 16 pounds, my energy levels are higher then ever, my mental state is definitely improved, anxiety is down, depression altered a bit, def still bipolar but managing fabulously, considering the circumstances.  I still cry, I carry guilt, I feel weird being in a home with no children, things are by no means perfect, but EVERYDAY, I wake up, I show up, and i implement practices and habits to make my life better and be my best self.  I surround myself with ladies that respect themselves, and other women.  I relocated from that shitty little judgmental town. I live in a place that's more “city” and I can tell you for the first time ever I am looking at the POSITIVES, and only that.  I refuse to let anything negative around me; it still hits, people still try, but I have learned to pull my energy away from that.  After 4 years sober, the sobriety doesn't scare me at all, It is how quickly you can go right back is something you denied so strongly, and fought so hard to end up at what feels like the beginning, but life will always teach you. So, I think I am writing this blog because I need to hold myself accountable, I need somewhere to be honest, and my life since about 16 has been anything but easy; I’m here to reassure you, you can do this, you can come out on the other end, all you have to do is show up! Today I am alive, and free, and I have a good life! xo.

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 12/24: Out

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Marvel’s MCU SERIES: SEADLA Verse, version 2.0 RATING: Mature WORDCOUNT: 4 626 PAIRING(S): - CHARACTER(S): Tony Stark, Nick Fury, Clint Barton. GENRE: Jail time sucks. TRIGGER WARNING(S): This chapter contains brief and non graphic suicidal thoughts (it’s really small, but it’s there) as well as iffy matters of consent regarding telepathy that aren’t really discussed. (Check the AO3 listing for a glimpse of what’s to come). SUMMARY: In which there is a rescue team.

DEDICATION(S): As always, to the first version’s readers, to the people who leave comments on the fic three years after its last update, and to 2012!me, who needed to write this fic a lot.

SEADLA ON TUMBLR: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11]

Tony stares into the abrupt darkness with his heart hammering against his ribs until a green and gold flame, no bigger than a thumb, whispers to life. The light flickers over Loki’s face, makes his features handsome, childish and fearsome in turn, a thousand faces birthed and killed by a thousand tricks of lights.

It makes Tony’s head swim.

Loki, apparently unbothered, sends the flame hovering a little above his head and lights another one, then another and another, until several dozens of small fires float in the air around them, casting their light over Loki and deepening the pitch blackness around him.

“You look like the Boogeyman,” Tony blurts out through the wild rhythm of his breathing, twisting his fingers into his sheets, just to make sure the bed is still there.

The whole scene looks and feels a little like the Big Bang did, except there’s neither scientific wonder nor any sense of emotional closeness to keep Tony calm, and sweat starts prickling at his brow long before Loki shrugs and deadpans:

“Well I did do a bit of interim for him.”

Tony gapes, unable to tell whether this is supposed to be a joke or not, until his eyes catch on to a slightly-less-dark rectangle in the blackness behind Loki. He twists around a little, careful to keep his movements limited to the approximate area of the bed, until he catches sight of something moving in the rectangle, like black heavy fog trying to hide paler silhouettes. Tony thinks they look like trees, but they’re too pale to be real.

“Where are we?” He asks at last, struggling to tear his attention off the door and onto Loki.

“I suppose you could say we’re technically both in you cell. This is your mind. Well, a possible manifestation of it, at least.”

“A physical manifestation of—wait, I’m dreaming?”

“In technical terms,” Loki corrects with impossibly precise enunciation, “you are being Visited.”

“Oh right,” Tony retorts, switching from surprise to sarcasm almost before he has time to decide on it, “and you couldn’t ‘visit me’ before because…?”

“You didn’t pick up the knife.”

Tony’s face flushes red in less time than it takes to blink. What does the fucking knife even have to do with anything? And what the fuck does Loki mean, Tony didn’t pick it up? He spent literal days cutting into his arm with that stupid fucking thing, and Loki has the gall to blame him for not picking it up?

Worse, still! The bastard looks sad! Hurt, even! Like he’s the one who suffered instead of Tony! Oh, what a fucking joke, what a bastard—a week! A full week, at least, in custody, all but tortured into drinking, not knowing when he’d come out and that’s what—oh, what a fucking moron Tony was.

“Oh, forgive me your highness,” he hisses, trying not to choke on his fury, “I guess I’m not smart enough for princely mind games, after all!”

“That’s not what I said,” Loki replies in a neutral tone, one eyebrow raising with so much elegance Tony wants to punch it open, “I’m simply saying—”

“You’re saying bull, is what you’re doing. I picked your damn knife up! For nothing! I’ve been calling you for help—”

“I’m actually fairly certain you were punishing yourself,” Loki replies, drawing his head back like an offended bird.”

“You told me there was a spell in it—that you’d know if I tried to use it on myself—why d’you think I went back to cutting? The aesthetics?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I didn’t actually get inside your head about a minute ago. I knew you were cutting, not why.”

“Oh, right, because that makes everything so much better!”

Tony is all but kneeling on the bed by now, body tense and boiling with the urge to start throwing punches. He’s not even picky about where: face, chest, legs, anywhere it’ll take so long as it gets Loki begging for forgiveness and the ugly mess of Tony’s memories out of his brain forever.

Loki doesn’t seem to care, if he even notices at all.

“It doesn’t,” he says with a slight shrug, “you had to call for me. I planted the knife as because I knew you were too stubborn to—”

“What? Too stubborn to die like you planned?”

Technically, there’s no wall to stop him here, no ground to slam into, which is probably the only reason why flying off and landing in an undignified heap doesn’t physically hurt. The gesture still reels him though, pulls his thoughts into a sharp sideway twist.

Fuck, he wishes it’d hurt though. Wishes it’d bleed like a proper wound so he could just stitch it up and be done with it instead of having to watch himself fester down into nothing. It’d be a bitch to go through but it’d be clean. Straightforward.

Simple.

God, he misses simple.

But it doesn’t hurt.

Loki’s face though, that gets something out of Tony, because he looks hurt. He looks like he’s hurt and betrayed, like Tony should commiserate with the poor widdle god of trickery and lies regret at sending a so-called friend flying. Like Tony should be craddling his cheek and say ‘it’s alright, you’re not really an asshole for trying to throw me into concrete, or whatever you thought would stop me mid-flight’.

Fuck that game. Tony’s most definitely not playing it.

“If I’d meant for you to die,” Loki hisses after a long, shivering pause, “All I had to do was leave you here. I could have killed you a dozen times as Lorna. Better still, I could have ignored your letter and let you do the bloody job for me, you pathetic coward!”

The lights around them burn brighter with each word, swelling with Loki’s venom and turning his hair from black to a bright copper, draws lines of runes onto his face. Tony watches the change proceed with sick fascination, blood humming in his veins as Loki’s ordinary black leather shifts into thick winter gear, his chin colors with a thick copper beard where the runes come and go like words on the wind.

It fills something primal in Tony, like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t have access to, and there’s the beginning of a punch building up in his fist when Loki strides up to him, seizes him by the collar and hisses into his face:

“You’re a lucky coward, though, I do not intend to let you die. Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You will know when the time comes.”

Tony does punch then, as hard and fast as he can manage, satisfaction blooming into his chest when he hears Loki’s nose crack and spots blood dripping onto the elegant mustache. Fuck him. Fuck him and his mysticism, his arrogance, his every fucking thing! If he wants to think he’s above everyone, fine! But if he thinks Tony’s gonna lie down and take it in silence, he’s got another fucking thing coming.

His thing with Lorna might have worked wonder, but Tony is sure as hell not about to take another one of his lies, fuck him very much.

“Lorna was a lie, that much is true,” Loki says while he dabs elegant fingers under his nose, “but it wasn’t mine.”

He’s out of the door before Tony can try to punch him again.

{ooo}

Tony wakes up to a major kink in his neck and the taste of a hangover gone stale on his tongue. He lies on the bed like a a stringless puppet, crusty-eyed and sweaty, desperatly trying to ignore the headache forming behind his eyeballs. At the edge of his memory, shouting and pain mix with green flames in the dark, and it’s all he can do to push them back in favor of Loki’s words.

Be ready for an escape tomorrow. You’ll know the moment when it comes.

Of course he had to be a fucking cryptic with that, too. What an asshole.

Tony still hopes, though. He thinks about the not-quite-dream all day long as he lies down, unable not to wish Loki said the truth. Unable not to feel like time has turned into especially thick syrup as he keeps his hands under the pillow, clutching Loki’s open knife just in case.

Somewhere around what’s probably the beginning of the afternoon, Clint comes back with more food. He doesn’t make a show of roughing tony up this time, which is definitely progress, but he does mouth ‘be ready’ when he leaves the tray. If nothing else, it probably means Clint is on Tonys side.

In times like these, it’s a thought worth clinging to.

{ooo}

As far as Tony can tell, it’s about four when the guards start screaming. Muffled shouts and the slap of flesh on flesh fill the air for a hot second, and then there’s a pregnant silence and the hiss of Tony’s cell door sliding open. Tony, who at this point is little more than a random collection of ill-kept hair and bloodshot eyes in hospital pajamas, watches a skinny silhouette in red and blue spandex stride into the room with confident step, pause into a full-bodied show of surprise, and exclaims:

“Dude, you look like crap!”

The boy sounds something like seventeen, maybe eighteen. Barely college age, at any rate. It doesn’t stop Tony from saying he’s been worse.

It’s both true and false. Afghanistan hurt more, physically speaking. He doesn’t remember feeling that empty while he was there, though, too busy trying to figure out how to get Yinsen and himself out to feel sorry about his life.

He wouldn’t go back there just to stop being depressed though, thank you very much.

“How did you know where to find me?” He asks, following the kid out into empty corridors with Loki’s swiss knife in hand, “Clint managed to get blueprint out?”

“Yeah, and then a little spider talked to me in a dream.”

A pause, and then:

“I mean, it was really more like the biggest tarantula the world has ever seen, but it’s not as funny an image.”

Tony’s too busy trying to walk in a straight line to care much, either way, but whatever rocks the kid’s world, really. How or why on Earth Anansi got involved, he has no idea. Same goes for Spiderman, actually, but neither of these questions feel pressing enough to distract him from the very real, very urgent need to get away from this place.

So he runs.

They reach a doorway that probably leads outside about fifteen minutes into Tony’s escape, four S.H.I.E.L.D agents standing in their way with old Nazi weapons at the ready, and Tony’s heart sinks.

No way he’ll get past them.

“Okay,” Spiderman says, twisting his head until the bones in his neck crack, “no offense but I think we’ll be better off if I handle that one on my own. You’re in no shape to fight, pop.”

Tony would quip back and say the kid is being a little generous about his suit-less abilities, but he doesn’t have the time. He’s barely started opening his mouth, and one guard is down already, dragged to the ground with a clever use of silky—and sticky—rope. Spiderman runs toward the next one, yells ‘crotch!’ and hit the man with exactly that part of his anatomy, catching one of the two women in the jaw with his foot as he twists the male guard around.

The second woman manages to get a grip on him and twist his arm behind his back, but before Tony gets to helping him, he’s jumped and twisted in such a way that he broke the woman’s nose with his knee and wriggled free of her headlock.

“Phew,” he says, voice rough from the chokehold, “thank heaven for super flexibility, right?”

Tony doesn’t have time to answer before someone grabs his arm and forces him to start running. He barely realizes it’s Clint in time to avoid punching at him—and then it stops to matter, because he’s finally outside.

He was never a very outdoorsy person before but hell, he’s ready to get into full time camping right now, relishing the wind on his face more than he could have thought possible, so happy to be let out of that damned cave of a jail cell that he barely manages to hold himself upright.

“Stark!” Clint yells in his ear with the tone of someone who’s been trying to get his attention for a bit, “they’re trying to torture Banner into hulking, we gotta move out fast!”

“He’s not gonna do it!” Tony protests even as he picks up his pace to keep up with Clint, “Bruce—”

“I’m not wondering if he wants to hold it in,” Clint replies, guiding Tony away from where a gaggle of agents are fighting a man on a horse car, “I’m wondering if he’ll be able to! He’s never had to resist torture before, we don’t know how it’ll affect him!”

Tony, still half-drunk from sudden freedom, wishes he could protest. Bruce saved his life multiple times already—sometimes as Hulk, even!—but Clint as a point. This is brand new territory, and they’re probably better off getting to safety before they start pondering the nature of Bruce’s doppelganger and how it’s gonna react to pain.

Around them, the air screams with explosions and too many voices, multiple fights breaking on the ground and across the sky as Tony lets Clint and Spiderman drag him out into what may or may not be the desert of New Mexico. He thinks he makes out a voice that sounds like thunder in the chaos but, really, there’s no way to be entirely sure.

“We gotta come back for Bruce,” he manages between two steps, dodging Clint’s elbow when he shoots at an agent.

“We gotta get you to safety,” Clint says, eyes roaming the landscape around them for something, “if Banner’s smart he’ll let the other guy come out and get him out of Fury’s hands.”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t see out back up!” Spiderman yells, “Where’s she?”

“Hell if I know! You seen a cat recently?”

Tony stumbles on the uneven ground, legs of cotton and shot vision combining to mess up with his balance, but he’s still got enough brain to despair at Clint’s words. A cat? they’re hanging their survival on a damn cat? God, they’re so lost—he’s just gonna die here and get this kid who asked for nothing down with him and then—

“Oh fuck!”

Tony twists on himself to follow Clint’s line of sight, trusting the guy to take them through a manageable path...and immediately regrets his decision.

Behind them, mounted onto some kind of vaguely horse-like mechanical monstrosity, the scarred man who visited Tony is flinging people out of his way like they’re annoying flies and not full grown adults. He’s yelling something Tony doesn’t understand but, more importantly, he’s catching up to them. Fast.

“Damn it all!” Clint shouts, “Bastet! Where the fuck are you!”

There’s a flash of grayish-pink flesh by Tony’s feet, a shape running toward the artificial horse as the scarred man prepares to shoot, and then he’s flung to the ground under the weight of a hairless lion with a snarl of hatred that shakes the air around Tony.

“The portal’s behind the rock,” the lion—lioness, judging by the voice—yells over the scarred man’s struggling body, “go!”

Tony is scrambling to turn around before Spiderman even manages to grab him—there’s a sharp pain in his guts as he runs, the exhaustion finally settling in, but he doesn’t let it stop him and keep going, passing a giant boulder at breakneck speed.

He doesn’t notice the hole until he’s already falling.

{ooo}

“Finally,” a deep, cheerful voice exclaims when Tony climbs back to consciousness, “I was beginning to think you’d never wake up!”

Trying to ignore the voice, Tony keeps his eyes closed and tries to list his injuries—there should be some, considering the day he’s had...whenever he got knocked out.

He doesn’t find anything.

Nothing hurts.

There’s no fire in his veins, no throbbing in his head, no itching and pulling around the reactor, no dull ache where he thought he’d pulled a muscle running, nothing at all.

He’s not sure what it says about him that the absence of pain is what makes him open his eyes and panic.

“Alright, alright, try to calm down,” the voice says when Tony bolts upright, “it took a while to patch you up, and probably even longer to negotiate your return with Hades, let’s not go and ruin all that good work.”

Tony turns, and stares at the woman he finds there. She’s about as tall as Thor, though her shoulders and hips are slightly narrower. Long, bleached-blond hair tumbles into a thick braid over her right shoulder, and when she walks closer to examine Tony it’s easy to spot the freckles on her golden cheeks.

“What the hell?” Tony exclaims when she inspects his wrists and there’s no trace of scarring there, “Where the fuck am I?”

“The exact answer is a little complicated,” the woman says with an apologetic smile, “so for the sake of simplicity we’ll just say it’s my infirmary, for now.”

“Right. And how long have I been in ‘your infirmary’?” Tony asks with his heart in his throat.

“A little under three days. You were awake for some of it, actually, but you kept trying to tear your glowing gadget out and re-open your wrists, so I sedated you. You should be able to get out tomorrow, depending on your state of mind...i the meantime, you can visit Anansi in the next room but going further would be a bad idea.”

Tony blinks, and takes his first proper look around the room.

White stone walls, too smooth to be natural but not enough to be a modern building, curve in as if to cover whatever is inside them. Blue light, rippling over the room like it had to get through water, mixing with the light of several candles to paint the atmosphere a golden kind of turquoise. It’s unusual and somewhere halfway between magical and spooky, but it’s also oddly soothing.

Secure, more than stifling. It’s a nice change of pace.

As for the furnitures, aside from the way they curve in to accommodate the walls, they look fairly infirmary-like. A spartan bedside table for each of the three narrow cots, a roll up tray with instruments waiting to be used, and a basket filled with whatever it is an infirmary needs to throw away. To the left, a closed door. To the right, a door left ajar, the low hum of conversation filtering through it—probably Anansi’s room, then. Tony should probably go and visit.

He doesn’t have it in him to do it, though.

He didn’t expect to wake up. didn’t even really want to, either. What does he have to come back to, these days? An empty house without Jarvis? A bunch of broken dreams? More problems than he can even begin to count? And that’s taking Loki out of the equation. Loki who, unless he’s even more of a jerk than he already showed, might come walking though that door at any moment.

Wonderful.

Honestly, tony wishes he could stop thinking about him. He’s going to have to, at some point, whether he likes it or not. Might even be a good idea to do so, in the long run. Right now though, nothing in his body hurts—not even the reactor—and his mind is just numb enough to keep him from a fall in complete despair.

It’s not ideal, but compared to the past few days it’s progress, and Tony is not going to ruin it with undue concern, thank you very much.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about Anansi’s health?”

It take tremendous effort to look at the woman again. Here eyes, almond shaped with a distinct fold at the corners, are so dark they’re almost black, but they’re warm too, and comforting. Well, there’s also a hint of reproach in there, but Tony doesn’t really have the energy to care about that.

“I assume he’ll be alright. He’s a God.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try and be a proper friend to him. Or, you know, a polite person.”

Tony tries to snort, but it comes our more like a huff of breath. Either way, it’s not the answer the woman was angling fro, because she crosses her arms over her chest with a more obviously disapproving stare. She’s wearing an apron over a purple wool tunic, more prepared for viking ships than the imperial court of China, but what does Tony know about mythology, after all? Just ‘cause nobody talks about godly emigration doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“Just because you’re out of it doesn’t mean you get to be an ass, Tony Stark.”

“And just ‘cause you know my name doesn’t mean you get to use it like you’re my mom,” Tony replies without much heat, “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Only because you didn’t ask.”

The woman’s voice deepens with every sentence, like her annoyance at Tony can be measured in how many octaves she can drop. She still reaches for a bowl and holds it out to Tony, with a firm ‘eat something’ when he takes it in hand.

It’s something like gruel, bland-looking on the whole, though when Tony tries it he finds nuts, honey and dried fruits as well. He doesn’t have the capacity to enjoy it in full, that’s true, but at least it tastes of something.

There are worse thing to unenthusiastically munch on.

“My name’s Sigyn, by the way.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but Tony doesn’t quite get why until Sigyn adds:

“You might know me as Loki’s wife.”

[the-dyslexic-blogger]

Fear 06/06/20

So I've talked about many things in my recent bogs bit have not spoken about the limitations that come with having anxiety. This, as per usual had a trigger warning for self-harm anxiety, sexual assault and also suicide mentions, oh and stalking if that's a trigger (funnnn yayyyy).

In the past, I have let my anxiety take over my life in certain parts as a child I was timid. I hated talking to others and struggled to ask for help in class. I was mostly alone and hated most the attention on me so, therefore, I didn't like my birthday because this was always all on me.

My anxiety started to get really bad in year 7 when I started the shithole school I was at, it tore my mental health apart and threw the bits in the air as they celebrated the victory of taking my life over. I thought being shy was just me being nervous. I enjoyed drama a lot I used to do productions outside of school. As soon as it hit GCSE, I did take drama I never regretted it my teacher was very helpful when it came to anxiety and stuff so she would let me do my performances in front of her. One of my friends would do the lighting and encourage me. It helped to have that connection with her that she'd look out for me.

Once college started, I gave up participating in performances. My Anxiety and panic attacks took over me. It was like a wave had suddenly hit me. I was stuck under a stream of anxiety, panic attacks and other mental illnesses. I could barely breathe its what anxiety felt like my panic attacks were very regular id have at least 5 a day just thinking about going outside because people will look at me and judge me it didn't help alongside this I had a lot of stuff to deal with my home life, My self harm my depression and other lovely wonderful traumas.

So after school, I gave up the thing I loved the most drama I used to love being able to be someone else for that hour and forget the problems I used to love the feeling of thinking of a drama piece and being able to script it and performed I loved it.

As soon as college, my anxiety as I have said already got very bad unbearable it began to be bad at the end of school. Still, I continued in drama my panic attacks were bad though before any drama lesson id go into the bathroom have a panic attack self-harm and go in with a smile like nothing had just happed my friend at the time also got anxious about performing wed help each other out with it.

Throughout college, I lost this interest in drama the thought of performing made me feel sick even going to college was enough to trigger a panic attack and Id have multiple in the daytime college first year wasn't a pleasant experience in college was the 2nd time id been sexually assaulted by the same person the college never helped it was traumatising it was on one of the days I had math tutoring my tutor was lovely. She was worried about me this whole experience knocked my anxiety far back and took the person I used to be I was a shadow of myself I still am working on getting that light again,And getting who I used to be back. I'm not going into the assault, but I will do in another blog.

 I will say as much as I hated the job sometimes it helped me a bit with my anxiety as I serve people ice cream, so I have to socialise this did help me massively.

Second-year came around the first day I went to induction was hard as by my previous college I was told id never get far. I wouldn't be able to achieve, so they offered me to do my GCSEs again. I had passed English, and the way that college treated me made me feel was awful. So I moved the morning of induction day I felt sick as frick. It wasn't pleasant. I   had few panic attacks in the quiet corner of the bus and went in it turned to out to be a good day.

I had applied for a course in level 2., but the guy I talked to said I had enough grades to get into level 3 so it was good.

I  got into level three, My anxiety was still terrible. I barely spoke to anyone in the first week or so.

I would wait until the tutor let us go and id practically run out the classroom to either the library or home depending on whether it was hometime or not I was too anxious to socialise with anyone I was like this all the time.

I never asked for help when I needed it having my learning difficulties really affected this as well, I struggled with my written work and maths but was too anxious to ask for help, and I was dyspraxic as fuck.

The third year in college was very hard as all of my friends had moved on and moved off of college or different courses. I struggled with my anxiety massively. After all of my issues, I was back in therapy and finally diagnosed with  Major depression, social anxiety disorder and generalised anxiety disorder which I was given medication for. Still, they ended up triggering a lot of panic attacks at the start but began to help after a while.

 I hid away a lot when I wasn't at college, in fact, my anxiety got so bad that in march of 2019 I gave college up didn't go to college whatsoever my anxiety had got me into a vicious circle of not going in and then getting too anxious to go back into college. So I gave up luckily, my college was still able to give me a qualification they took into account my awful mental state.

My mum has never been the nicest to me, so she didn't know when I was at college I was actually at my mate's house I couldn't face telling them I had a bad panic attack every time I thought about it so they would meet me every morning and id go to their house for the day then come back home after and act like it was college.

Around this time was the time I had an issue with a stalker he was on the bus one day and asked where a particular stop was so I being a good bean I told him, it happened to be the same one as me. That was that reasonable right? Yes, but it wasn't after some time he'd wait for me at the bus stop and 'walk with me' aka stalk me home I was clever though and went to a completely different area and said that was my house and waited till he fucked off. Then id go back I would get into shit for being late home my parents were assholes about it I didn't tell them about all of this.

This went on for about a month, and then I told my friend he encouraged me to call the police. So I did he was there for it he helped me through it. They gave me a lot of support throughout all of this, which set my anxiety off very severely, but they understood my situation.

One evening I was in my room heard a knock at the door my dad got it and called me I came down the stairs and my heart sunk it was the police, I felt so sick in my throat. And I sheepishly walked down the stairs and into the front room. They came to have a chat about all of this, and they were lovely police officers and was very understanding. I think they could see how anxious I was.

After this, I went back upstairs after trying to fight off a panic attack for the whole meeting thingy if you can call it that in the living room. I got upstairs, and my mum shouted for me. I got yelled at for having a stalker, yes I got punished because some dude decided 'hey imma stalk you now give you lifelong trauma' it's not like I was like 'HEY STALK ME' It was rough I went back into my room cut and had a panic attack and cried myself to sleep. You know that feeling when you're in your room trying not to cry too loud holding your hand on your mouth trying not to let anyone hear you well that was what it was like that night. I fell asleep with a blade in my hand crying wishing i wasn't born.

Ever since that I haven't gotten off at the stop in the centre, I always get off early I'm too scared to do otherwise and get off in the usual place.

Summer was hard for my anxiety especially with university coming closer and closer, and I didn't know what was going on with it this was making me more and more anxious my home situation wasn't too great either.

 I wanted to get out of my home. Still, I didn't know what was happening with it once I found out where I was going I didn't have time to think about it as that week I had to apply for accommodation then that weekend I was moving in the next day freshers week began. I was anxious and too scared to trust people being in a flat was hard. Still, I met some pretty amazing people in this I would not change this for anything if the other university asked me  I would turn it down anyway because I'm happy with where I am.

I feel like university has changed me yes I was very very anxious at the start and have had ups and downs with it with my mental health the trauma train making a lot of stops in my head. With the downs, I have met many amazing people. I have even gotten back into drama with doing musical theatre yes I did stop it for a bit, but that was when shit hit the fan again. My medication started up again. I loved musical theatre it helped me with my anxiety a lot. I met lots and lots of lovely human beings there. They are like a family even though I wasn't noticed much I was always quiet and to myself so I don't think I really made an impact on anyone there. Still, oh well they helped me a lot.

 But there you go another blog of Dino chats shit gets distracted goes off-topic went back onto topic and written over one thousand words. Fun.

But thank you all for reading my shitty blogs more about me complaining about how rough life can be and how shit things are. Still, they do get better I promise you this is probably the shittest blog I've done as I've kinda slightly rushed it I wanted to get it up for yall as I've been saying for ages ill upload (Not that anyone actually follows my blogs oof)But I did it anyway 

But as i usually do anxiety affects, everyone, even if you're not professionally diagnosed with it everyone gets anxiety and its okay to feel anxious don't beat yourself up for it or even hate yourself for being anxious it's alright I'm here if anyone needs me you can message me anytime love ya.

As I usually do  Here are some helplines if you are struggling with anxiety and panic or/and anxiety attacks thank you all again stay strong my human beans thanks for reading another shitty blog that is longer than it should be as I said I'm always here. If you need me inbox me (on Tumblr) or message me on anything I'm here still will be I care about you, YES YOU the person who read all of my blogs or skipped to the end if so I don't blame you, but I care, love, ya.

Here you go :

NHS Anxiety:https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/stress-anxiety-depression/understanding-panic/

NHS mental health support: https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/stress-anxiety-depression/mental-health-helplines/

Young minds on anxiety: https://youngminds.org.uk/find-help/conditions/anxiety/

Love

Dino the dyslexic blogger xx

[mixeddoctor]

The Frozen River, The Wet Tears and a Need for Strength

So today was a hard day. One of the hardest in awhile. My birthday was Monday and he emailed me on the weekend. I hadn’t been able to sleep. In 2 days I had gotten maybe 5 hours. It’s the worst. I’ve always been able to just fall asleep. But now I don’t want to be alone with my thought. I hate to admit that I don’t feel safe with myself alone here. I don’t feel safe in my own mind. Music doesn’t help all the time because it allows too much space for thought. It doesn’t drown anything out. I usually have my Hulu on till i knock out now because I cant think if I’m listening to an episode. The only problem is.... it’s like I’m afraid to sleep. My body finally gets to sleep and I get up and I’m dead tired but my body just goes and I don’t know where the energy comes from. Anyway, I hadn’t slept, I went to school, fell down the stairs on the way, and when I was leaving I got a call from a flower delivery person. I told them I wasn’t home and that I wouldn’t be for a few hours. I thought it was so nice of someone to send me flowers and then I realized that no one ever sends me flowers on my birthday except him (usually they are digital flowers because he never knew where I lived before then) and I asked who they were from and the delivery person said they just deliver so I couldn’t do anything. I got another call from another delivery person from edible arrangements but this time I asked who they were from and they told me it was him (going by my old nickname for him-bastard-that nickname was because he was one of the nicest people... or so I thought). I refused to accept them. I told the man to keep them or give them away because I refuse to accept them. Tat was before class. I felt like crap. The flowers at my door were gorgeous and I hated that I liked them. I hated that he could reach out and affect me in any way. I was angry that I told him not to contact me and he chose to disregard me. He sent it to my house! I kind of laughed it off but I told my 2 friends and my mom. One of my friends suggested I email him just saying to stop contacting me and that its the second time I asked because it needs to be documented in case I need to get a restraining order. I thought it was a good suggestion but decided I wouldn’t respond on my birthday. Couldn’t sleep again though. Had a long day at clinic and on my commute I wrote his email. I sent it to my girls to make sure it was appropriate. I got home and finally was able to sleep after not having slept for what seemed like forever. But I think I only slept 5 hours. I normally would have just slept through the night. And then I sent the email after an adjustment. And looked at my inbox and saw that his mother sent me birthday wishes. The woman is so sweet and in that moment I hated him for not telling her. He told me in one of his 6 or 7 unwanted emails that he had not had the heart to tell her what had happened and when she asked how I was doing he pretended not to hear her and went and cried. I was angry. Every correspondence he sent me either addressed me by an old nickname or like we were still on friendly terms. And then 1/2 of them, maybe more, described what HE was going through. How devastated HE was. His random bouts of crying. Missing me every day. I hated it! Why does he make it sound like HE’S the victim? He’s the victim of the consequences of his own fucking decision to take what I wouldn’t give him sober. An opportunity of a fucking lifetime I guess. And now hes hurt because I refuse to be in his life or have him in mine? Fuck you. FUCK YOU!!! SUCH A SELFISH ASSHOLE! He always prioritized what he wanted over what I wanted, needed, or what was in my best interest. And the worst thing is, if I’m honest, sometimes I’d feel bad for him, for what HE was going through but then I’d just get angry at myself and somehow the anger just allowed me to continue on. But back to his mom. I had met her in person and had helped her out via email and had spoken to her a few times on video chat while he was home or when she visited him. I felt like we had a cute little rapport. And she really is the sweetest woman. So as much as the email was so sweet, I decided in that moment she deserved to know why I wouldn’t be emailing or around after this correspondence. I felt it would be rude not to respond to her despite what her son did to me. So I responded. And then I had the balls he didn’t and told her, not graphically or angrily, but told her that after that email I wont be corresponding with anyone with any ties to him because after what he did it just is not good for my own emotional health and I apologized that the small relationship she and I developed had to suffer from his actions. I also def mentioned that I knows he taught him to be a man of integrity and good moral standing but he disregarded her teachings the night that he did what he did to me. I kind of felt apprehensive about sending it and then was just like screw it. I’m responding. I refuse to make myself look bad and I want to control what information she gets and make sure that he doesn’t claim “a night of drunken sex” or that I just stopped talking to him. I wanted to control what was said. Who was told. And that the truth was told. Maybe that’s a little of me trying to get my power back. A little of the control. Anyway... I sent them both after 1 am so I thought he’d be asleep especially because it’s the beginning of the semester so he has no reason to really be up late so he usually is in bed around midnight. His mom from what I know usually doesn’t sleep late. But know in retrospect, she may have been up and then woken his ass up because I got an email back at almost 3 am. 2:48am to be exact. And I read it. And he said that he never intended to be disrespectful with his correspondence... that he wanted to show that he still cared, that his existence in my life was not all about Sept 30th. That he wanted to be remembered as a man who loved and cared about me despite the fact that he raped me. I was impressed that he said the words. That he owned up to it. He also said he was beyond remorseful because remorse alone does not inspire change. He said that he was so used to sharing his emotions and personal things with me that he just wrote them. He said he wanted to help make my birthday special. And then he got angry because of something he interpreted as sarcastic. And he described how he has such a hard time because he cant just wipe me from his life easily and then implied that I’ve been able to wipe him away from my life and he said maybe I wish that he never existed and that maybe one day ill be able to purge him from my memory but he hopes not and that he hopes that I remember him as a friend who always wanted the best for me. That email fucked me over. I went to sleep trying to drown out my thoughts. Woke up and it was the first time that all I wanted to do was sleep (which happens to be early signs of depression for me) but I had grandrounds. And got out so I could get there on time. But I cried on my commute. Pretty much the whole way. On the bus. On the first train. On the second train. And when I got to the clinic, I went straight to the bathroom so I could just let it out and I must have cried for like 7 min. I had to hurry up and clean up because 1-I’m an ugly crier but 2-my eyes and nose get hella red and I didn’t want anyone to know. But I cried hard. I cried so hard. Because he makes me feel guilty. Like I am hurting him. Like I ruined a good person. And if I’m honest I was so confused at what I wanted to believe. If I believed him, could I still be angry? Was I petty to send that to his mother? Why can he even make me feel guilty? Why is HE the victim in this? Am I that terrible of a person? And then I remembered that I did love him- like he was my best friend. He was with me through med which has been so rough (but if I’m honest part of that has been rough because of him) and we had a very close relationship. Way too close but the attachment was real. And for him to do that to me. For him to take that from me. Because “[He] wanted [me] so bad”. Because he could. Because it was what he wanted. What he fantasized. Why do men who say they love me hurt me. My bio dad, many many of the previous people in my life. And why do I ruin and let down and destroy the good things (not even talking bout him but apart of me feels like he would never have done that had it not been me). Was it really me? Was it really my fault? I know he was wrong but did I push him that far? Why would he do it to me? God I feel dirty. and like a terrible person. I hate him! i Hate him! I hate him! I hate me too. I had so many plans today but I just wanted to lay in bed. I cooked so I kinda felt good but I just wanted to lay down and go to bed but I’M NOT SLEEPY~!!!! God this is not how I wanted to start off 27. I always thought something good would happen to me at 27. But if this is any indication, I’ll just be crying and shutting down. I couldn’t even get through this without breaking down multiple times. I really wanna disappear. I looked at the Potomac on the commute and other bodies of water that were frozen... and thought how that is such a good metaphor to how I feel. Cool and solid on the surface, but below still flowing current of emotions and that every email, every card, the flowers, and even my lack of sleep is like someone throwing a rock to crack the frozen surface. Some places are cracked all the way through until the next day when they freeze right back over. If I could just get through this year... I cant have this this year. Boards are coming up. I haven’t been able to bring myself to study. I just want to sleep and lay in bed and stare at my wall and cry and be buried in the bed. I got such a huge jump on work before class started and I was supposed to be done by yesterday and now its the end of today and I am not closer to where I need to be at all. There’s just more and more things that are piling up and I hate that this is happening. I hate that he is affecting me. I hate that I cant be stronger. Why cant I be stronger. Dear God, it doesn’t have to go away, but can I just please be a little stronger? Any strength sent my way would be greatly appreciated. Please. 

[laseroy89]

My Hand Steals Life

I found out the truth about my right hand the hard way.

I remembered it in detail like it was just yesterday, even though it was like, four years ago? I was volunteering at an old folks’ home - no, not really volunteering, more of coerced into community service by my school.

Well, since I was already there, I thought I might as well make the most of my time, so I went around socialising with all the seniors instead of moping around like the other unwilling students.

I shook hands with most of them. I didn’t notice it at first, but now as I looked back, I recalled that they looked a little uncomfortable the moment my hand started shaking up and down. Mainly little changes, like the slight furrowing of the forehead, the deepening of the crow’s feet, a little change in colour of the cheeks, and so on.

My school had arranged weekly sessions with the nursing home, and the plan was to last for two months, but it never got beyond the second session. Mainly because….most of the seniors had passed on in the days following the first visit. When I went to the home the second time, I noticed that most of those people who weren’t there anymore had shook my right hand that day, and those who were still there….they were all left-handed. With the drastic increase in nursing home population, I guess the school decided that it would be meaningless to have such a large number of students tend to such a small number of elderly.

That was the first time I realised what my right hand could do. It suddenly made sense, why my parents preferred to hold my left hand, and why they had aged so quickly ever since I was born. Yeah, I’ve been wondering that when I was looking at the family pictures: they looked so active and strong when they had my sister, but once I appeared in the pictures, more wrinkles appeared on their faces, they started piling on the pounds and their hair gradually greyed. It must also be the reason most of the teachers during my earlier years fell sick so often. It made such a lasting impression on me that I thought that all teachers fall sick regularly, and even until college my first thought would be that the professor had called in sick whenever he wasn’t on time for class.

Somehow, shaking my hand just sucks the life out of people. And furthermore….I think it adds on to my life as well.

Whenever I shake right hands with someone, I feel this rush of energy. There’s no other way to describe it. It just kinda pulses through my hand, a wave that cascades down my arm then washes over my entire being. It makes me feel more energetic, more lively. It wasn’t that forceful when I was young, but now that I’m a young adult, that feeling grows stronger day by day. I think this is the main reason why I don’t fall sick easily, don’t really need much sleep each day, and have greater stamina than most others. Oh, and people say I look fifteen even though I’m twenty. I guess….shaking hands with a lot of people I don’t like has filled me with life.

Which brings me to where I am now.

I kept my hands firmly behind my back, and pushed myself backwards into the corner. The cold, rough surface of the wall rubbed against my bare skin, but I had no space to flinch away. She continued walking towards me until I could feel her breath on my face.

“Please, Jack, just….just let me do it.” Her voice was hoarse after several hours of crying.

She reached her right hand out towards me; a hand wet with tears, and red from hitting me.

“NO, Jenny.” I tried to be as firm as I could, but hearing my sister’s pleading voice….couldn’t stop a tear from rolling down my cheek.

My sister. Older than me by five years. She did many awful things to me when we were younger. She broke my game console because I was too noisy and she couldn’t study in peace. She kicked me in the crotch when I asked her for extra pocket money to buy more sweets. She once cut off all the studs from my football boots, to punish me for playing football indoors. And for the next pair of football boots I had, she sawed the bootlace so that it only held together by a few threads, which broke in the middle of a match, and forced me to sit out for the remainder of that game.

But she did other things too.

I was planning to cheat on my final exams as I didn’t study enough, but she ratted on me. Instead of graduating with flying colours, I was retained for that grade, shocked and despondent at my own sister’s betrayal. However, she chose to devote time and effort into tutoring me. I was initially extremely reluctant and even abusive to her, hurling vulgarities whenever she tried to enter my room, but over time, I warmed up to her attempts to help me. She was with me all the way, even when I grew tired and desired to throw away my books and bury myself in my games, even when I hated myself for not being smart enough to understand all those concepts. Her tutelage taught me the importance of perseverance, of tenacity, to face all those odds that life threw at us instead of always choosing the easy way out. She made me realise I was an asshole when I was younger, and she was just disciplining me through tough love.

Now, she is HIV-positive.

A tryst with the some shady dude that she met at her first time at a club. A mistake made on a second’s impulse, with consequences lasting a lifetime.

Only, she doesn’t want the lifetime.

“Jenny, being HIV-positive isn’t the end.” That was what I said earlier, when she broke down in my arms about her condition. I had hugged her, telling her that it was gonna be okay, that it wasn’t her fault, that it is indeed a serious matter but it really isn’t the end. She sobbed quietly on my shoulder, while I patted her back and tried to get her to calm down. I thought it was going fairly well, that she was just going to cry herself to sleep, then I would put her to bed.

That was when she grabbed my right hand and started shaking it vigorously. I was so shocked, I didn’t react for a few minutes. And during that few minutes, she shook it so many times that she started changing.

Wrinkles and eyebags appeared on her face. Her hair started becoming thinner and messier, with dry strands of hair sticking out. Her skin lost its radiant glow, growing paler and paler. She lost weight, with her cheekbones and jawline sticking out much, much more. She now had the appearance of a gaunt middle-aged lady.

I had wrenched my hand away, startled by her sudden transformation. I hadn’t expected to take so many years of life away from her. Now, she looked so frail, a stark contrast from the pretty woman who hung out with me on weekends, binge-watching television shows.

She started slapping and punching me in a bid to get my hand, forcing me to run away from her. And here I was, cowering in a corner.

She slapped me again. A harsh strike across my already red face.

“It is the end! I can’t face anyone anymore! What will Mum and Dad think of me when they find out I’ve fucked some random dude at a random club?”

“I’ll help you explain it to them.”

“What will my friends think of me? I’ll be some slut who didn’t bother to check her date for STDs!! Oh heeeeeey look it’s Jenny, the whore who was too excited for some dick she didn’t think twice about riding some fuckboy she barely knew!!”

“And do you think any workplace would want to hire any HIV-positive person? Those employers out there, they would think I’m some ill-disciplined, careless tramp!!”

“It won’t end up like that, Jenny. People are more educated now, they won’t judge you on that, they’ll judge you based on your merits, your strengths.” I tried to reason with her, but she was beyond that point now.

“But deep down, they would always think of me as that piece of filth.” She collapsed and sank down on her knees, burying her face into my leg.

I sat down with her, but kept my hands behind my back.

“Think of how much money needed to buy that insane amount of drugs to treat me.”

“I won’t be able to have sex for the rest of my life. NO, don’t talk about condoms.”

“I can’t even have children. I’m fucking worthless.” The last word came out as a forced hiss, filled with pain and despair.

“No, Jenny, you’re not worthless. Being unable to have children doesn’t equate to being worthless -” She put her finger on my lips.

“Don’t say that to me. Tell that to the men out there.” She crawled onto me, leaning in close. I tried to pull away, but my head was already to the wall, and I was forced to look at what she had become. Her once smooth skin, crisscrossed by multiple cracks and lines. Her dry hair had multiple split ends, tickling my nose. With the light blocked by her face, her cheekbones became more pronounced, and her cheeks became more sunken, like….a skull almost devoid of flesh. Nearly just skin and bones, yet with the same kind eyes, burdened with exhaustion and disease.

“Remember when you helped me get back on track, after that cheating incident?” I whispered to her. “You taught me to persevere….work hard to overcome hardships, and emerge stronger as a person. Never….never take the easy way out.”

She froze when she heard her words come out of my mouth, and we stared at each other in mute surprise, at how our circumstances had reversed. There was a flash of hesitation in her eyes, but….the familiar look of hopelessness replaced it almost instantly.

“I know. But this time….I’m gonna take it.” She said so softly I almost couldn’t hear it.

She gave me one last smile. A smile comprising cracked lips and yellow teeth. But still a beautiful one.

She lay her head on my chest, and reached behind me.

I didn’t move, when she found it. I didn’t move, when she wrapped her right hand around mine. But I moved along with her, when she started shaking it.

Once, twice, and….no more.

I always savoured those surges of energy travelling up my arm, whenever I shook hands with people I disliked. I revelled in stealing years away from their lives.

But as she exhaled her last breath on my chest….I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy it.