#my depression is starting to come back and I am PMSing

[chelseahotelntwo]

I don't know who the fuck I am oh well

[ghostussy]

Terzo x (afab) PMSing Reader Comfort

Requested by someone on AO3! 

TW: AFAB references, menstruation, cramps, etc. 

No nsfw! We don’t do that here :) 

     I will keep this as gender neutral as possible, but this is generally aimed towards an AFAB audience. Also as a heads up, I have a difficult cycle so that will be exhibited here! Nothing too drastic, just extremely late cycles and more painful than for most people. (Like, when they first started at age 12 kind of pain) 

. . .

Something was wrong, you could feel it.

There was something off within your body. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it; you wondered if maybe you were approaching a depressive episode now that winter was coming, or maybe you were coming down with a cold. Your nerves were constantly fried and your back constantly ached; but most of all, you felt so needy. Constantly longing to be held, wishing to be coddled with the utmost care.

In the back of your mind you wondered if maybe it was that time of the month- though you couldn’t be too sure, because they never came on time. It had been over two months since your last cycle, and you knew that your next one would be brutal. Just in case, you stocked up on Midol, pads and tampons.

After a few more days you discovered that you were right, to your dismay. After speaking with Sister Imperator, she granted you a few days off to recover, for which you were thankful.

The first day went alright. You hadn’t even need to take any pain medications, and you wondered if your cycles would finally return to normal. The second day, you realized that you were so very wrong.

You spent much of the day in bed, trying to ignore the constant pains shooting through your abdomen and back. You took Midol as often as the instructions would allow, counting down the time until your next dose. They helped immensely, but often wore off a couple of hours before you could take it again. You wished you’d purchased some heating pads; they always seemed to help the most.

Suddenly you were startled by a gentle knock at your door. “Just a second,” you called, moving to stand. You winced as you did so, placing a hand onto your nightstand to steady yourself. You walked steadily over to the door, grabbing your robe and wrapping it around yourself. You opened the door to reveal a concerned-looking Terzo.

“Ah, hello, y/n,” he greeted, “Sister tells me you are unwell. I came by to see if you needed anything?”

“Oh, I’m alright, papa. That is very kind of you, though.”

“Of course. Though, are you positive you don’t need anything? The ghouls tell me you have been, eh, hurting?”

“Oh! How... How did they know?”

“They have a very keen sense, those ghouls.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose that makes sense. Well, papa, please don’t worry yourself. It is only...” you paused for a second, thinking of how you wanted to phrase it. “I am on my monthly cycle, is all. I unfortunately have a condition that makes it worse for me than for others, so that must be what the ghouls are sensing. Please do not worry about me.”

“Oh, dear. I obviously cannot relate,” he chuckled, “but maybe I can offer some comfort, perhaps? I happen to know where I can find some heating pads, and where my fratello keeps his chocolate stash. He does have quite the sweet tooth, you know.” He winked at you.

You pondered his offer. On one hand, you didn’t want to burden him... But on the other, you really would like to have a heating pad or two. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. But only if you aren’t busy, of course!”

He let out a chuckle and reached for your hand, gently bringing it to his lips. “For you, I am never too busy. Now, why don’t you get back into bed, and I will be right back.”

. . .

He returned a few minutes later with two heating pads, a large bag of chocolate, his laptop, and two warm cups of tea.

“Oh papa, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you told him, feeling slightly guilty. You looked up at him from your position on the bed. You had removed your robe once more, leaving you in only a t-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Dear child, it is the least I can do,” he insisted, setting the many items down. After plugging in both heating pads, he gestured for you to sit forward; you obeyed, wincing as you did so. He positioned the heating pad on the small of your back, and you repositioned it so that it was exactly where you needed it. “And please, call me Terzo. Now tell me, does your front hurt as well? Would you like the second heating pad there?”

“Oh, yes please. Thank you, Terzo.”

“Of course.” He walked around to the other side of the bed, moving to climb in underneath the covers with you. “Now, while we wait for the heat to kick in, I have a special treatment for that nasty pain of yours. It has a one hundred percent success rate. Would you like to try it?” He shot you a smirk.

You eyed him suspiciously. “Like what...?”

“Come on now, dolcezza. Do you not trust me?”

“Augh, fine.” You crossed your arms, looking at him curiously. “But no funny business!”

“Ah, no funny business here!” He held up his right hand. “Scout’s honor!”

“You were never a scout, though.”

“Ah, well- papa’s honor, I suppose.”

“I guess that will have to do.”

“Perfect. Now, the first thing you’ll want to do is get comfortable. Yes, that’s it- go ahead and lie down for me.” You did so, readjusting the heating pad on your back. Terzo laid down with you, leaning his face in close to your stomach, removing the blankets and still-cold heating pad from your abdomen. “Next, we expose the pained area.” He lifted up your shirt, exposing your bare stomach to the cold air. “Then...” he pressed a gentle kiss above your navel, prompting a giggle from you. He glanced up at you, making eye contact just before releasing a onslaught of kisses across your belly.

Laughter bubbled up from the back of your throat, and you were powerless to stop it. “Terzo!” you managed in between laughter, “Terz-aHAha! Thahat tickles!”

“Good! That means it is working. It is healing all that pain inside there.” He continued his gentle swarm of love. Finally, after a few moments, the kisses slowed to a stop. He pressed one last kiss into your soft skin, sweeter and longer than the others. He ran a gloved hand over the sensitive area, prodding one last giggle out of you; then he replaced your shirt where it belonged, as well as the now-warm heating pad and your blanket. “Now, all better.”

“Was all that really necessary?” You chuckled, curling up closer to him.

“Of course, dear. Now all your pain will be healed,” He handed you a cup of tea. “Now, would you like to watch a movie with me?”

“I would love to.” You took a few sips of your tea as he opened his laptop, opening a streaming service. “I’ll let you pick.”

“Oke doke.” He readjusted his position so that he lay propped up slightly against the pillows, with you laying down on your side comfortably, curled up with your head on his lap. He set his laptop down in front of you, close enough that the two of you could see, yet far enough that it wouldn’t hurt your eyes. You realized that he had chosen the newest Buzz Lightyear movie. You smiled slightly, amused by the fact that he had chosen a kids movie.

Curled up, you left the heating pad for your back a good distance away. With your back stretched at a weird angle, you didn’t need it as much. Your abdomen, however, was throbbing painfully; as you pressed the other heating pad into it, the pain reduced drastically. You relaxed into the heat, sighing blissfully as the movie started.

Terzo ran a hand through your hair, mindlessly working through your locks. He focused on the movie as he did so, not paying you much attention. About halfway through the movie, he finally looked down; your eyes were half-lidded, glazed over with sleep; your fingers curled around the blanket loosely. You still held the heating pad against you, though not in nearly as tight of a grip as you’d had before. “Ah, dormiglione,” he purred, pulling his hand from your hair and pulling the blanket over your shoulders, “è passata l'ora di andare a letto. (Ah, sleepyhead. It is past your bedtime.)”

A sleepy whine left your lips, disappointed that his hand was no longer in your hair. You rolled over so that your face was towards him instead of the movie, pressing it into his stomach. You still loosely held the heating pad to your abdomen. He chuckled, closing his laptop and setting it off to the side, off of the bed. He carefully lowered himself further into the mattress so that he was laying down completely. Sleepily, you gravitated towards him, pulling yourself into his chest. He wrapped his arms securely around you, rubbing your back with one hand and caressing your hair with the other.

Barely awake, you let out a sleepy, content sigh. You looked at him, your eyes bound in a sleepy haze; each breath you took was even, chest rising and falling rhythmically. “Alright, cara. Rest your eyes. I will be right here. Just go to sleep.”

Between the heat emitting from him and the heating pad, as well as the soft motions he made on your back and in your hair, there was no chance of you staying awake. Steadily, you drifted off, face buried in his chest. You fought it to an extent, losing miserably as he massaged your scalp. A soft whimper left your mouth as he did so; the action made you unbearably sleepy, forcing you to lay completely relaxed against him. Still, you were slightly awake.

Quietly, with his mouth pressed against your ear, began to sing. He kept his voice low and gravelly, trying to lull you into sleep.

“In this, your time of need / you’re turning to the light / you had just begun to explore the dark / in the urban light,” he adjusted your blanket once more, which had fallen off when he’d shifted earlier, “ the world is on fire / and you are here to stay, and burn with me.” Your eyes finally slid shut, a light blush from sleep forming on your cheeks. He looked at you, eyes full of adoration as he finished out the verse. “A funeral pyre / and we are here to revel / forevermore.”

A yawn left his mouth as he finished singing. He laid there, watching your chest rise and fall evenly, before allowing his own eyes to slide shut as he drifted off as well.

[inkhansky]

Lonely

Suddenly I feel lonely. I like being alone, but there are time like this that I feel so lonely, like I have no one to tell them that I'm lonely. I have no one that I feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. I can't tell anyone that I'm not ok, because I don't want people to worry, and I feel bad if I make people worry. I mean I just want someone to acknowledge my feelings without any judgement, or feeling like they have to do something for me.

There was a time that I had someone that I can talk about all this stuff. It was a time that I feel like I was allowed to be emotional. But, thinking back, I don't think it was good for me. I am not meant to be emotional. As cliche as it sound, emotions made me weak. I grew up believing that I have to do everything for myself and never able to rely on anyone. Then, things changed and I started to rely on someone else beside myself at probably one of the most difficult time in my life so far. And what did I get? I was discarded the moment I needed help the most. I was right all along, I am the only person in this world that will be there for me, no one else. But it's lonely.

There is so much that my cat would listen to me before she gets annoyed and just go inside her nook to take a nap without having me disturbing her. There is a friend that so similar to me that I know they wouldn't like it if I to be dumping all this emotional crap on her. There is a friend that I don't even know we are even close enough to be talk about this stuff. There are so many people I thought about sending a message asking them if we could talk, but stopping myself as soon as the thought came out, not wanting to burden them.

So here I am, on this blog that probably no one will read, unless I randomly disappear and my family care enough to hire a PI to look into it, and they find this. Hi person who was hired to look for me. I swear I am not depressed, well maybe I am, I can't say for sure since I'm not a psychiatrist. Anyway, I lost my Switch at the airport few weeks ago. It was my fault, I was half asleep. I am so grateful that I was in a financial stage where I literally got a new one within the day. And I was able to recover almost all of my data, even one that I thought I forever lost, which I would be super devastated about, but wouldn't be able to tell anyone (talk about 770+ hours on ACNH). I have been dealing with this all by myself. I can't tell my mom because she would say that I shouldn't have spend money on something so trivial. I have come to an acceptance that my mom will never see gaming as something important. I can't tell my friend because they would think I wasted money. So here I am grieving my limited edition switch, and my first pair of custom joy-con that I did myself. It's not the monetary value that I'm grieving but the sentimental value of that thing.

Wow, that was a tangent. Maybe what I'm feeling right now is not just the random loneliness, maybe it has been building up for a while. ORRRRRRR maybe I'm just PMSing. Honestly, why is being a girl so dang hard. I don't even know if I'm actually sad or my hormones are just going crazy.

Well, at least I feel better after letting all that out.

To the unfortunate PI that has to go through all these posts. If I really disappear, I probably don't want to be found. So you can use this section to tell my family to stop looking for me, or do look for me, I'm not the one paying you, so what power do I have.

To the person who is not a PI reading this, I don't know what brought you here but you should leave. I already felt mortified by the thought of someone reading this ( as I am writing as posting this on the internet, yes).

[lesless]

Exit stage left

Today is my friends last day in town but I’m also PMSing & fatigued. Presently at work getting not as much done as I hoped to. I overspent in general & am whatever about it because I can’t do anything about it. Plus I had fun & I can’t take it with me. I did order a $100 smart watch which comes in today, & I’m excited to use it to track my exercise process. My workout yesterday was strained after a week off, drinking. My body feels tight & tense waiting for the release of hormones. I need to take an alcohol break for a few weeks. I think it irritates my sleep cycle & tummy, anyway. I bought us a scale, an item which I haven’t had access to since I was severely under weight & depressed & couldn’t bear to look at it. I want to keep muscle but shed a little (3-5 lbs?) fat to increase my tone.

I need to write my friend back & post photos & journal & figure out the flight to Mexico in September, which was rescheduled. In a few months I think I want to buy a bow bc I really enjoy shooting. I should visit family but the idea sounds exhausting & they won’t visit me so what’s the point. I am tired & anti social after a week with family & friends buzzing about on either end of that week. My bf has had a bit of allergies & doesn’t like his job & has been a little snippy & id like to be alone for a few days. All this is likely largely hormones but I’m not interested in much now.

When I get the watch in & set it up I will start over in tracking my exercise & foods. I was doing well but fell off doing so during vacation. I want to increase my stamina & keep eating more salads, especially now that our garden is coming in nicely.

Overall, bleh.

[marveloussupernerd]

Ice Cream - Vanderwood

Uhm so... this idea started w this being abo seven. Then about Unknown. And then about Vandy. Just to clarify, I know lots of different pronouns are thrown around for Vanderwood, but I’m playing the safe route and going by he/him because that’s what the creators said 😀 no judgement if you hc otherwise though! Sorry this is probably gonna be OOC bc I have not played another story so my interactions w him have been slim to none

Summary: You were just kind of... depressed today. With the hacker at large, Seven and Mary Vanderwood III have been tasked with watching you through security cameras. Kinda rough when you won’t leave your room and there aren’t cameras in there. Vanderwood tries to cheer you up

PSA: this lowkey deals w mental health but not explicitly ? Inspired by me bc I get depressed~ esp when I am PMSing (which I am doing now) and genuinely can’t get out of bed and do things (ppl are iffy on mental health so just to say I have been diagnosed and was given birth control to help... which honestly has helped a lil). So I thought this would maybe help me and hopefully some of you, Jesus Christ I’ve prob lost so many of you w all these announcements

You just... couldn’t get out of bed. You had been stuck inside for a few days now, watched over by Seven and Mary Vanderwood III via security cams. But not getting to go outside and have human interaction kinda sucked. And then all your work was stressful too. You just didn’t want to move. And so you didn’t.

You got dressed though. That was a good start. Granted it was in something that could also be considered pajamas, but it felt nice to change your clothes. Felt productive. You went back into bed.

How long had you spent in bed, scrolling mindlessly through social media and watching stupid YouTube videos? You looked at the time; it was 1 pm. You were lucky you had today off, but had hoped to be more productive today. Oh well.

Your video was interrupted. A call from Seven. It was probably important.

“Hey Seven!” You picked up, bringing your voice to its typical cheery state. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” The voice on the other line asked. You jumped; it was deep, much deeper than Seven’s, and very serious.

“Are you using a voice modifier?” You giggled. It felt nice to talk to someone.

“Huh? Oh, no. This isn’t Seven.”

You paused for a minute, raising an eyebrow. Your voice caught in the back of your throat. “Are you... the hacker?”

“No!” The voice sounded urgent.

“Tom? Seven’s childhood friend?”

“I’m not fully convinced he exists.” The voice replied, an edge to the voice making it sound like a joke.

“Honestly? Me neither.” You paused, trying to think of who it could be. “I fold. Who are you? And how’d you get Seven’s phone!?”

“Giving up that easily?” The voice was teasing you now. “I thought you’d do more than two guesses.” You huffed out a sigh, making sure your annoyance was heard. “Come on, who would have access to Seven’s phone?”

That literally made no sense though. “...Mary Vanderwood the III?”

“Is he calling me that to you too now?” The voice asked, clearly annoyed. “My name is not Mary Vanderwood the III, and I’m not Seven’s maid. I just go by Vanderwood.”

“Hi Vanderwood,” you greeted. “You’re... a dude?”

“Yes.” He sounded annoyed still. “I don’t know why he’s said all this stuff.”

You giggled. “Well, back to the beginning of the conversation. Why’d you ask if I was okay? Is anything suspicious happening?”

“You just... you haven’t left your bedroom yet.”

“Oh” was all you could say.

“Oh? Are you okay?”

“Yeah of course!” You figured you might as well explain yourself. “It’s just, uhm, I haven’t really wanted to get out of bed and be productive. Sort of a mental block.”

“Oh,” his voice was much more understanding now. “That sucks.”

“Yeah... I think it’s because I haven’t interacted with people in a while. Just kinda holed up in the apartment. Hard to stay motivated.” Why were you telling him all this? He just wanted to know if you were okay. He wasn’t your therapist. “Oops! Uhm, sorry. Didn’t mean to unload that all.”

“You’re okay. I’m... sorry to hear that.”

“I’ve dealt with it before so like... it’s fine. It’ll pass. There are way more pressing matters right now,” you brushed it off, shrugging even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“Do you-“ he coughed. “Do you like ice cream?”

“Yes?” What a change of topic. “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, if you want something to do, do you wanna get ice cream? If you’re feeling up for it.” He sounded almost awkward. It was kind of sweet.

But still, more pressing issues at hand. “I don’t know if I should with the hacker and everything. Everyone has security but me and so I-“

“I work with Seven. I think I can protect you.”

“Think?” You teased.

“You know that’s not how I meant it. I know I could protect you if need be. If you don’t want to though that’s okay.”

“No!” You shouted. You covered your mouth immediately, embarrassed from your outburst. “No. I think that’d be really nice.”

“I can pick you up outside the apartment in like ten minutes? You don’t have to worry about getting dressed up nice or anything...”

This was all so sudden. “Oh, I guess you do know the address, huh.” You were more saying it to yourself than him. “Wait! What do you look like? So that I don’t get picked up by the hacker or anything.”

“Uh...” he seemed so confident, but very uncomfortable describing himself. “I’ve got brown hair. Kinda long? It goes down to my shoulders. You know what? The lining of my jacket is leopard print. That should help.”

You were silent. Leopard print?

“Don’t make fun of it.” You could hear the scowl in his voice. “Ten minutes. See you then.” He hung up before you could say goodbye.

He did say not to look nice. Which made sense, in retrospect, because he had seen you for the past few days lounging at home. There was no need to try to impress; he already knew how you looked on the norm.

So you grabbed a jacket, your phone, and your wallet (with pepper spray attached to it for good measure), and headed out.

You kind of felt like a hooker, standing out at the curb waiting for a car to drive up and get you. But, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind. You were getting real human interaction today thanks to Vanderwood.

He pulled up in a very standard car, definitely not one of Seven’s babes. He rolled down the window and called your name.

“Wait! Show me the lining of your jacket!” You requested. It felt ridiculous but it was important. You laughed nonetheless, as did he. He pulled the jacket up, showing the intricate pattern. You grinned and got in the car.

“Hi. Nice to meet you in person,” you started, looking over at him. He kept the window down as he drove, the sound from the car loud and the wind blowing through his hair.

“You too,” he shouted, trying to talk over the wind. “Nice day out, huh?”

You leaned your head slightly out the window, the cool breeze a nice offset to the warmth of the sun beating down on you. “Mhm,” you hummed.

Luckily the ice cream shop was only a few minutes away. Good thing too; you weren’t sure what to talk about. You benefited from the fact that most of your words were carried away with the wind; the conversation starters had sucked anyway. You just focused on his surprisingly good driving and the feeling of the sun.

He got out of the car and you quickly followed. He didn’t wait for you, just kept walking to the order window. You scrambled to catch up. “So what’s your favorite?” He asked, sensing you by his side without even having to look.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have cookie dough. Always a solid choice. How about you?”

He turned to you, a smile on his face that contrasted frankly with the harsh lines of his features. “Dark chocolate raspberry.”

“I can’t tell if I’m surprised or if I expected that.” You let out a little ‘hm’ and shrugged your shoulders. He went up and ordered for the both of you.

“Oh, uh,” you reached into your wallet, but he brushed you off.

“Relax. I can pay for a $3 ice cream cone.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized that may insult him. “Oh! Uh, that’s not what I meant to insinuate. I’m sorry.”

He glanced over with that smile of his, brown eyes lighting up. Why did it make your heart flutter? You had literally just met the guy. You were such a goddamn simp.

He grabbed the ice creams and handed you yours, his gloved fingers brushing against your bare ones. It wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact! Why did you feel this way from something so small? You wanted to die right then and there. He suggested you eat in the car to maintain a low profile and you nodded, not trusting your own voice.

Were you supposed to talk? Or eat your ice cream? Or both? Your mind chose for you, as words stumbled out of your lips before you could even stop them. “So is Vanderwood your real name?” Idiot. Of course it isn’t!

“God no.” He sounded hard about it. It was hard to take him seriously while he was licking an ice cream cone like that. You tried to hide your laughter. “No, don’t laugh.” His voice wasn’t hard this time. He was almost begging you to go easy on him.

“No I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing at your name. It’s just... it’s kind of funny when you sound all mad and annoyed but you look so cute eating your ice cream.” No!!!!! Did you just call him cute? This was going AWFUL. You should have stayed home.

“Well, you can make fun of my name. I obviously didn’t pick it. It’s stupid.” Maybe he hadn’t heard the last part of what you said, considering he didn’t bring it up? But why was he blushing?

“It’s not that bad. You could be named Mary Vanderwood the III,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “Can I give you a nickname? Maybe make it less insufferable?”

“What, you think we’re going to be talking all the time now?” He had a point. Why did you... do any of this? It was so embarrassing. You stared at your ice cream, praying you didn’t blush or shake your leg or do anything to show how much you felt like an idiot. He nudged you, causing you to glance up at him, and he smiled. “I’d love a nickname.”

“Wood.”

“Ha ha,” he laughed sarcastically.

“V! Oh wait... we can’t do that.” Poor V. You had almost regifted his name. “Vandy!”

“Vandy?” He questioned, trying out the name. “I’m not seeing it.”

“I am. Vandy. That’s the one”

“It’s too...cute.” His cheeks flushed red again. He pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not letting you call me that.”

“You don’t get to pick your own nickname,” you stuck your tongue out at him. “I think it’s very fitting. It’s cute, you’re cute...” why were you doing this to yourself? You must have hated yourself.

“You’ve said that twice now. That I’m cute,” he mentioned causally, biting down on his cone, the rest of the ice cream gone.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s probably just my toxic masculinity.” It sounded like a joke but he also sounded serious? There were so many mysteries surrounding him.

“Well, if it helps. I think you’re quite handsome too. But that’s a lot of syllables to get my point across.” You were a bit more confident this time. If he was genuinely worried about his image, why wouldn’t you help reassure him.

“Uh, thanks.” He pushed back his hair, pausing midway. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad with gratitude. I genuinely appreciate it, especially coming from you.”

“Well it’s not like I’m lying,” you shrugged. You had finished your ice cream. “Uhm... maybe we should get back. Who knows what Seven’s been up to since you’ve been gone.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

The drive back was just as silent as the drive there, the both of you enjoying the sun and the wind again. He turned on the radio this time. It played 80s hits.

He parked in front of the building. “I hope that helped you feel a little better. I mean, I had fun,” he explained. You could tell he was forcing the words out, forcing himself to express some emotion.

“It helped a lot. For real. Thank you Vandy.” You touched his arm gently.

“Can I have your number?” He asked, a small smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “So that I don’t have to call you through Seven’s phone again,” he justified.

You smiled, nodding, wordlessly taking the phone from his hands and putting your number in. Why were your hands shaking? Was he genuinely interested in you? Or was he just a nice guy?

You handed the phone back. “Thank you again.” You smiled, opening the car door.

“Wait!” He exclaimed. You turned back towards him, leaving the car door open. “Can I... kiss you?”

You shut the car door again, nodding eagerly. He pressed himself against the center console to reach you, using one hand to balance himself and the other to brush the hair out of your eyes, cupping your cheek as he closed the distance between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut, focused on just how warm and soft his lips were. It was... really pleasant. He didn’t maintain the kiss for long, although you seemed to have lost your concept of time.

He pulled away, hand still on your cheek, smiling that smile again. “Thank you. I hope I made your day a little better. You certainly improved mine.”

Your fingers grazed his own, intertwining with his for a moment as you opened the car door with the other hand. “You did. I’ll look forward to seeing you again maybe?”

“For sure,” he was more flustered now. “Ah, I should probably make sure Seven hasn’t burned down the house. Have a good night.” He regained his composure, winking at you as you exited the car, and driving off, wind still blowing in his hair.

Vandy stans don’t drag me maybe he was OOC but also I wanna think he’s a little less confident in a romantic situation ? Idk. I hope you all liked it tho tyy

[puckinghell]

Friends Don’t | Jamie Benn

Requested: nope Word count: 2822 Note: basically if a player is being mistreated in any way i have to write about them. also based on a song with the same name

You tucked your legs under you, wrapping the blanket a bit tighter around you. It had been one of those days. First, you spilled your coffee, then your car wouldn’t start, your computer crashed halfway through your assignment, your teacher made a snippy remark towards you, and then your mom had called and banged on about how disappointed she was with you for not going on that date with her coworkers “perfectly nice son”.

You didn’t want perfectly nice. You just wanted to be left alone. And maybe watch a movie with your best friend, but when you’d texted Jamie, he had other plans. Whatever that meant.

You picked up your glass of wine. You tried not to make it a habit to drink alone at home, but some days just asked for it. For some reason, you could feel that you were on the brink of tears; it was stupid, really. Maybe you were PMSing. You decided to text Jamie again.

Now I have to drink my wine alone, which is just depressing. Thanks for nothing, James.

You knew he would have a laugh at that little inside joke, probably text you back something snarky. You waited for his reply, but nothing came. He must be at something where he couldn’t have his phone on him.

You met Jamie at a charity event. You’d been working as a waitress there and he’d been there representing the Stars. He’d been sitting at the bar alone, and you’d joked about how drinking alone was just depressing. He’d told you that it would be a lot less depressing if the pretty waitress joined him, and although you’d been on the clock and couldn’t actually drink, you had stayed in his general vicinity all night, talking about everything and nothing.

He’d been with his ex girlfriend, back then, and when they broke up, you were already so deep into your just-friend regime that it seemed impossible that anything more was ever going to happen. You’d since accepted it, and yet, sometimes, like tonight, you wished you were more than just the best friend. More than just the best friend would be allowed to demand cuddles, and you wanted cuddles. Instead, you had to do with your cat; and she just looked at you with pity in her feline eyes.

You nearly spilled your wine in surprise as you heard a knock on the door. Your blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape, and your wine glass still in your hand, you padded towards the door and opened it only slightly, to reveal your best friend standing there. He was wearing a suit and holding a bottle of wine, raising his eyebrows when you stared through the gap of the door.

“I was expecting a more enthusiastic response to my arrival,” he said dryly, holding up the bottle of wine. “I brought booze.”

“Jamie?” You threw the door open, reaching for the bottle and prying it out of his hands. “What are you doing here?” You knew you looked ridiculous, with your blanket cape, cradling what looked like a very expensive bottle of wine, but you didn’t care. Jamie had seen you in worse ways.

“Wouldn’t want you to be drinking alone, would we?” he grinned, pushing past you into your apartment.

“You’re a bit overdressed for wine drunk and movies,” you frowned, closing the door behind him. Jamie was already shrugging off his suit jacket and taking off his tie. Then, he kicked off his shoes and sat down on your couch.

“Was supposed to go to a dinner party,” he explained, “but I’d rather be here.” He frowned at your TV. “We’re not watching the Princess Diaries.”

“You can’t crash my pity party and start making demands,” you sputtered, but you didn’t really mean it. You would watch whatever movie Jamie wanted to watch. And it wasn’t because he looked awfully delicious in that dress shirt. Not at all.

“I think I can,” Jamie challenged. “Also, since I canceled my dinner for this, you better be down with ordering pizza.”

“If you really think I’d ever not be down for that, you don’t know me at all,” you mumbled, and you finally sat down next to him on the couch, a clean wine glass now in your hand; for him. You cuddled up into his side and he picked a movie and then ordered some pizza, and somehow, you’d forgotten all about your bad day.

“God damnit Jamie, it’s 1 am, you better have a very good reason to call me,” you growled into your phone.

“Oh.” Your best friend sounded wary on the phone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was that late. Time difference.”

You usually didn’t even have your phone on sound, usually put it on silent when you slept because your many group chats would surely keep you awake, but fate had it that you forgot to do that that night.

“I just wanted to say hi.”

You smiled at his statement. “Hi,” you told him, and you could almost hear his smile on the other side as he answered.

“Hi.”

“Not the results you wanted, huh?”

The Stars had played the Flames that night, and boy had it not gone good. You’d managed to watch all of it, but had to mute the third period, because seeing them get smashed in like that literally hurt your heart too much. You had, however, even on mute, seen Jamie’s fight, and as always, it felt like you hadn’t breathed for a solid half hour afterwards.

“How hurt are you?”

“I’m fine.” He was lying, you knew it, and he knew you knew it, too. “Just a busted lip. I was trying to get some fire into the boys, but I guess you can’t expect much when you’re down 4-0, huh?” He sounded defeated, and you hated it.

“I’m sorry, Jam. It’s not your fault, you know. These games happen. There’s always next time.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He was silent for a while. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t worry,” you hummed. “I’m glad you called. I haven’t heard your voice in a while, you know.”

His deep sigh cut straight through your bones. “I know, it’s been a long road trip.”

You knew Jamie, knew he was beating himself up over their loss and knew that he wasn’t going to sleep for another hour or so, too much adrenaline flowing through his veins. And you knew exactly what would calm him down, too.

“Want me to tell you about my day? I can tell you all about my math assignment.”

“I’ve never been more thrilled for anything in his life,” Jamie said, but he sounded amused now, less focused on his misery. So you settled into your pillow, put your phone on speaker - you’d be talking for a while, and your arm got tired quickly - and told him all about the little details of your day, the mundane things that really didn’t matter, that Jamie wanted to hear about anyway.

You had to get up early the next morning and you knew you’d be so tired, but going to sleep was not an option. Not when Jamie needed you to be awake with him.

You knew this neighborhood well enough to realize that Jamie was going the wrong way. And yet, you didn’t say anything.

The car was going awfully slow, way under the speed limit, for no reason at all. It was 3pm, and there was barely any traffic. Definitely not enough traffic to warrant this turtle speed.

“Jamie, you have a sports car, use that accelerator,” you teased him, and pretended not to notice the red flush on his cheeks. He sped up, but barely.

You didn’t really want him to, anyway.

He’d insisted on picking you up from college and dropping you off home, and although you’d told him a few times that it really wasn’t necessary, you were glad he had. Tonight, he’d leave for another road trip. He’d be gone for almost a week. It wasn’t that long, not that big a deal, had happened many times before and would happen many times again; so why did your heart feel so heavy with dread?

You wondered if he felt it to, if he was driving slow, taking the long way home, just to make this last a little bit longer. Spend a little more time with you. You didn’t dare hope.

The radio was on, but you didn’t really register what song was playing. Jamie wasn’t talking, but he was tapping his finger against the steering wheel on the beat of the music. Tapping his fingers was a nervous habit of his, and usually when he did it, you could pinpoint exactly what he was nervous about. Not this time.

“You got your chemistry project done in time?” he asked suddenly, and you frowned. You’d told him about that project about two weeks ago, and it was one of the last things you expected him to remember.

“Yeah, I did. Why on earth would you care about my chemistry project?” You’d said it jokingly, but he didn’t take it that way, shooting you a pointed look.

“I care about everything going on in your life, Y/N.”

Oh be still, fluttering heart.

“Did you get your skates sharpened?” you shot back, and he smirked.

“You don’t give a shit about my skates.”

“I really don’t. I just wanted to let you know that I remember things you tell me, too.” You sunk back into the car seat as Jamie stopped in front of a red light. You willed it to stay red a little longer, but it jumped to green too quick.

“I remember your grandmother’s name.” Jamie sounded proud of himself, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“God, that’s so not special! I remember your dentist’s name.”

“How?” Jamie asked, bewildered. “I don’t even remember my dentist’s name.”

You shrugged. “I care about your teeth.”

“Yeah, well, I care about your…” he paused, you could see the wheels turning in his head. “Nails!”

“Nails?” you giggled.

“Yeah, you go to this nail place to get them done.”

“You don’t even know what it means to get nails done,” you countered, and you could tell by his scowl that you had hit the nail on the head.

“Well, I’ll come with you next time,” Jamie said triumphantly. “Then I’ll know what it means.”

“Such a problem-solver,” you shook your head. “That’s a true captain at heart.”

You were totally going to drag him to your next nail appointment and you weren’t sure whether he was going to be super bored, or super interested by all the - for him foreign - things going on at a nail salon.

The car slowed down even more and just when you wanted to start scolding him for driving too slow, you realized you were at your house.

Oh.

Jamie put the car in park, took his keys out of the ignition. “I’ll walk you to the door,” he said. It was completely unnecessary, with it being a clear afternoon, but you didn’t fight him on it.

“I’ll see you in a week, I guess,” you smiled, but you had to work for the smile. He was playing with his keys, fumbling with them, staring at his hands.

“Uhm, yeah,” he mumbled. There was a pause and you wished he could find a reason not to leave yet, but he clearly couldn’t come up with anything. “I’ll see ya.” He turned, as if he was going to walk away, then suddenly turned again and launched forward, wrapping you into a hug. He smelled so familiar and warm and you squeezed him. Maybe, if you just didn’t let go, he wouldn’t leave.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay? When I’m at the hotel.” His words were soft against your ear, and you sighed.

“Yes, please.” Another second, he pulled away, steps on the driveway, the car rumbled, and then you were cold and alone on your porch, and you wondered why you could feel tears burning behind your eyes.

You didn’t really want to go to this party, but there really was no other option. You were pretty sure your friend would have your head on a stick if you didn’t go to her birthday party. To make it a little more bearable, you’d brought Jamie, however, your best friend had seemed to disappear as soon as you walked into the house, and now you were drunk and alone and most importantly, extremely bored.

“Want another beer?” the guy you’d been talking to asked. You didn’t even really know his name.

You didn’t want another beer, you just wanted him to stop talking. And so you smiled politely, made up an excuse, and started making your way through the crowd.

“Jamie, you in?”

You weren’t even sure why your ears decided to focus on that specific sentence, because it had nothing to do with you. But as always, Jamie’s name rang in your ears and somehow pulled your eyes into the direction of the speaker, and there he was; talking to a girl. A beautiful girl.

That shouldn’t hurt as much as it did.

“Ouch!” You’d been too concentrated on Jamie, and bumped into a person. The girl steadied you, smiled.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry!” Your voice was hoarse and suddenly the air around you seemed to thick. You made your way outside, wanting to get away from the people, but you hadn’t realized your squeal had alerted Jamie to your presence, and as he saw you storming outside, he’d immediately left the girl he’d been talking to - mid sentence, even, it really wasn’t very polite - to rush to your aid.

You sat outside on your friend’s porch. It was warm in Dallas, even at this hour, and the stars were bright in the sky.

“Hey, you okay?” It was the second time someone asked in maybe three minutes, but this time, you saw no reason to lie.

“Not really.”

Heavy footsteps sounded behind you and then Jamie sat down next to you on the porch. “I saw you run away.”

“I saw you talk to that girl.”

You probably shouldn’t have said it, should probably still be pretending that you were just friends. Because that’s what you were. But friends didn’t feel this way, watching their friends flirt with pretty girls.

Jamie laughed lightly. “I saw you talk to that guy.”

You shook your head. “Not that same. I don’t even remember his name.”

“I don’t remember a word of what she said,” Jamie countered, and you finally turned to look at him. His big brown eyes caught yours right away, and you were taken aback by the sheer emotion in them. “I wouldn’t flirt with her, not when I lo…” His eyes widened as he caught himself, cut himself off. “When I came here with you.”

That’s not what he was going to say. You knew it, because you’d been in this situation so many times before.

And maybe it was because you were a little drunk, but after all those time, you were finally done with it.

“That’s not what you were going to say,” you told him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “What are we, Jamie?”

He stared at you, seemed to really think about your question. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “What do you think we are?”

“I think we tell ourselves we’re just friends,” you said. You were staring at the grass in front of you. Looking at him, while you were going to say what you were going to say, was way too hard. “But friends don’t cancel other plans just to get wine drunk on the couch. They don’t forget the world around them when they hear each other’s name.”

“Friends don’t call you in the middle of the night just cause they feel like saying hi,” Jamie continued. He reached out and you felt his fingers against your hands.

“Friends don’t get chills with every accidental touch,” you whispered, and Jamie intertwined his fingers with yours. “And friends don’t drive too slow and take the long way home and play with their keys, just to postpone goodbye a few seconds longer.”

“Friends don’t almost say I love you.” His words rung through the quiet night sky and your heart seemed to be in your throat. His other hand reached out and with one finger, he took hold of your chin and pulled your face towards him, forcing you to look at him. “Friends don’t do this.” And then, he kissed you. It was like electricity ran all through your body and at the same time, a comfortable warmth took over you as your lips moved against his in perfect synchronization. He pulled away, smiling, and you couldn’t help smile back. You nodded in agreement.

“Friends don’t.”

[anders-hawke]

My Mountains of Pain are Smaller Than Others

I mean, that’s what I keep thinking. I hear about other people’s problems and I’m just like, “Oh, mine must not be real problems.” So I’m like, “I’m okay, I’m fine. I’ll be okay soon.” But when is soon? Because it’s been soon for years, since I was in Pre-School.

Those are my earliest memories, but back then I didn’t have the words to describe my mountains. All I knew was that people are scary, vomit is scary—get away from me—get away from it, and that I can’t sleep during naptime, how does anyone else sleep???

As I got older, I found out that carbonated drinks burn my throat, that my tears are quick to come, and that I vomited oh god nonononononono and then I walked around school with my arms wrapped around my midsection for months, from the later part of third grade to the earlier part of fourth grade.

People would cough and I would freak out internally, because, one time, I was coughing and my dad asked if I was okay and I said yes and then I barfed, so ever since then I’ve been paranoid.

I grew older, and found the words to describe my mountains: anxiety, emetophobia, insomnia, suicidal thoughts, depression, agoraphobia, and hyperactive gag reflex.

I was diagnosed with anxiety... I don’t know when. I only found out that I had been diagnosed when I went in for my general doctor’s appointment this past fall. I was given medicine over summer but it made me feel nauseous and triggered my hyperactive gag reflex. So I started on a new one, but my stomach had been messed up, and I had to start on meds to help with that.

I’m pretty sure the anxiety disorder that I have is specifically social anxiety disorder, because I never trust myself around people; I always doubt what I say. So when I take the leap and say something only to have somebody fight me instead... I regress. The medicine I take helps a bit, but I find it hard to remember to take it and I have to take it for a while consecutively for it to work properly.

I searched the phobia of vomit when I was thirteen, which is called emetophobia, and self-diagnosed myself because I suffer from these symptoms:

Eliminating foods that you associate with vomiting.

One time, I ate cookies with red frosting on them and then threw up later in the day. The vomit was pinkish. I hate eting cookies with red frosting on them to this day.

Eating slowly, eating very little, or eating only at home.

Whenever I throw up, a few days/a week later, when I’m perfectly fine, I still don’t eat much, if at all, out of fear that it’ll make me vomit.

Smelling or checking food often to make sure it hasn’t gone bad.

I ate pudding that was probably expired because it tasted bad and freaked out, thinking it could cause me to throw up.

Not touching surfaces that could have germs that lead to illness, such as doorknobs, toilet seats or flushes, handrails, or public computers.

I don’t suffer from this exactly, I just compulsively wash my hands or use hand sanitizer.

Avoiding drinking alcohol or taking medication that could cause nausea.

When I was younger, I vowed to myself that I would never drink alcohol, even though one glass or bottle doesn’t make you vomit. I can’t drink it anyway since my throat is hyper-sensitive.

Avoiding travel, school, parties, public transportation, or any crowded public space.

I once skipped a friend’s birthday party because I was gagging badly and thought I was going to throw up.

Having trouble breathing, tightness in the chest, or increased heartbeat at the thought of vomit.

Extreme fear of seeing someone vomit.

Extreme fear of having to throw up but not being able to find a bathroom.

Extreme fear of not being able to stop throwing up.

Panic at the thought of not being able to leave a crowded area if someone vomits.

Anxiety and distress when feeling nauseated or thinking about vomit.

Persistent, irrational thoughts linking an action to a past experience involving vomit.

I self-diagnosed myself with low-scale insomnia caused by my anxiety and emetophobia because I have a hard time staying asleep, I just wake up really early even though I’m tired and would like to go back to sleep, but once I’m up, I’m up.

When I was younger, back during those really rough times in third and fourth grade, I remember laying in my mom and dad’s bed with my mom, maybe my dad too, and crying, saying that I wanted to die. And now that I’m older... those thoughts have sadly come back. Not the “I want to die” thoughts, but a different type, ones like:

My brain: *playing out a scenario of me stabbing myself or cutting my wrist* Me: Ew, wtf!!!!!!! BRAIN STAHP IHSDLUIGLDYWT

I don’t know how to deal with those thoughts, but they usually come while I’m PMSing, which means that it would probably help if I took birth control medication that regulated my homones, but does that shit even come in anything other than pills?? I can’t take pills because that triggers my hyperative gag reflex which triggers my emetophbia!

I self-diagnosed myself with depression because, while my symptoms generally only occur while I’m PMSing, they happen on a regular basis. I suffer from these symptoms:

Emotional well-being, such as feelings of incompetence (e.g. “I can’t do anything right”) or despair, crying, intense sadness, feeling sad or empty, anxious or hopeless.

Behavior, such as refusing to go to school, avoiding friends or siblings, thoughts of death or suicide, loss of interest in activities, withdrawing from social engagements, thoughts of suicide.

Cognitive abilities, such as difficulty concentrating, decline in school performance, changes in grades

Sleep patterns, such as difficulty sleeping through the night, waking early, sleeping too much

Physical well-being, such as decreased energy, greater fatigue, changes in appetite, weight changes, aches, pain, headaches, increased cramps, digestive problems.

Mood, such as irritability, anger, mood swings, crying

And lastly, I diagnosed myself with agoraphobia, because I feel...

trapped

helpless

panicked

embarrassed

scared

...when I’m in situations that I’m not comfortable with, such as asking a teacher for extra help.

I typically am...

afraid of leaving my home for extended periods of time

afraid of being alone in a social situation

afraid of losing control in a public place, i.e. crying

afraid of being in places where it would be difficult to escape

detached or estranged from others

anxious or agitated

When I got scared and panicked internally I would:

tremble or fidget

experience hot flashes or chills

and sweat excessively

When I was younger, I thought my problems weren’t “real” problems, so I tried my best to ignore them. Now, I know that my problems are every bit as real as other people’s, and that treatment can be found, that I can feel happy a lot more than I usually do. It’s still a struggle everday to change my way of thinking, but if I keep at it, I’ll keep having more good days than bad ones.

(All health information via Healthline)

[amysubmits]

Hey Amy! I hope this finds you well. I overthink and worry about little things a lot and I guess I’m a little concerned that I’m holding myself back from trying to explore being submissive (which has appealed to me for years now). Do you have any advice on how I could quiet the meddling thoughts and be more confident in trying something new out? If I missed a similar question being asked, I apologize! And thanks for your time (:

Hi! Thank you, I am doing well, hope you are too.. :) 

I’m someone who struggles with change, so even when I’m excited about trying something new, I will always be nervous at the same time. And I can’t quiet my mind when I’m nervous. So I’ve never, ever tried anything and felt confident (or even close to it) when first trying it. For me I think of it as normal to try new things and just take my nerves with me as long as the anxiety is reasonably under control, I guess? I’m sure it’s different for everyone but for me, I’m okay with having to pep-talk myself a little bit in advance to trying something new, and I’m okay with having to ‘talk down’ stray anxious thoughts in the middle of trying the new thing, too. But if I’m trying to do something new and a majority of my thoughts start being about those fears then that’s usually where I would tap out as trying to keep pushing after anxious thoughts take focus would likely turn into worse anxiety. 

Or if you mean you are already at that wall where it feels like too much anxiety to try? It might help to talk them through with your partner and maybe get reassurance and/or encouragement from them. For example, if you’re curious about trying something because you think it might make you look weak, they might be able to explain to you how they perceive that submissive thing as sweet, or sexy or as a beautiful sign of how much you trust them, or of how courageous you are for trying it, etc which might help shift your perspective. Or if you can express a specific fear like…it might feel too embarrassing? Then they might be able to help come up with ways to decrease the odds of you feeling embarrassed like…maybe not looking directly at you as you do it the first time or something. 

I have a lot of anxieties around sexual things more so than the ‘lifestyle’ aspects of D/s so with the things of mine that are sometimes difficult (meaning my soft limits), we have an agreement that we don’t mess with them if I’m stressed or depressed or PMSing or anything like that, we just avoid them. We only work on soft limits if I’m in a really good place emotionally because we think that increases the odds of it going successfully each time and then if each time is successful it helps create a positive association with the act. Where if we tried pushing those limits when I was already a bit anxious, I think it would increase the odds of my anxiety taking over and then I would be more likely to associate trying that thing with feeling anxious. So for us, being picky about when we work on those things seems to help, but of course, it means being pretty patient. We think it’s well worth the wait. :) 

. 

[thinking2muchh-blog]

10:24 pm, Jan 13 2019

So... the guy that drove me home from the club... i lost my virginity to him LOL. Not that school break, but the next. but the thing is, my period is now a week late and i’m a little stressed. i was pmsing on time, but it just hasn’t come? another thing, i found out he had MONO as well. having sex with him caused me nothing but stress lmao. another thing is, this week has probably been the most emo for me. i can’t tell if it’s seasonal affective disorder (i don’t want to self-diagnose but...) or if it’s pms sadness because that happens almost every time too. maybe it’s a mixture of both + stress because i have NEVER felt this sad without reason for such an extended time. today has been a day full of holding back tears. i’ve noticed some signs of depression before, but they’ve never been as prominent and/or there haven’t been this many all at once before. i guess it just slowly happens. i’ve been isolating myself a lot recently, super tired (mostly mentally drained, it could also be early signs of mono), and i really don’t have the motivation for school. i’m really starting 2019 off great! my mom has always said that if i had any mental concerns i could talk to her, but i don’t really feel like i can because of what she has said in the past when i talked about my other friends with depression, anxiety, etc. my sister wouldn’t understand either. tears have been coming and going all day today at the most random times, but they appear more when i think about them (they’re accumulating right now!!) i have also just realized that i haven’t showered since thursday night - it’s now sunday night, how disgusting - and i definitely won’t be showering tomorrow morning either because i have an 8 am class and will NOT be waking up early to shower. guess i’ll wear a toque (or beanie) to school tomorrow :) i guess i’ll pretty much only be here when i’m super sad so if i’m not on here often, i’m in a good place! if i am, well then we know whats up. that’s all for tonight, i’m gonna try to get a good night’s sleep so i’m not exhausted tomorrow.

[elspethsunschampion]

Gifts

Rating: T

Summary:  Billy Kaplan wakes up to a surprise one morning--maybe his powers aren't just lightning-based after all?

A/N: I just have a LOT OF FEELS about trans Billy Kaplan okay

         Billy woke up feeling weirdly refreshed. Considering he’d cried himself to sleep the night before, he hadn’t been expecting to feel too amazing, especially since he was probably PMSing and liable to start his period within the next day or two, which was Grade A Suck, in his opinion. He checked his sheets, which at least turned out not to be a murder scene, so that was a good sign.

           Sleepily, he headed into the bathroom and flipped on the light switch. His face was itching some, which might mean more acne—oh, joy. With a sigh, he grabbed his washcloth and rinsed his face before reaching for his toothbrush.

           Something was different. He hadn’t had a cup of coffee, so it was hard for him to put a finger on what it was, but there was definitely something different. Yawning, he squinted into the mirror. Weird, his chin looked almost fuzzy. But he wasn’t even on T yet, and not likely to be for a few years if he couldn’t even manage to come out to his parents, who were, seriously, the most harmless, accepting people in the world. Except—Billy frowned and ran his hands down his front. He’d managed to get a binder by ordering it from a pretty discreet online source, but he didn’t wear it to sleep in, since that wasn’t good for your breathing, and, again, there was the potential concern of Mom and Dad noticing. So how come his chest was so flat?

           “No way,” Billy said out loud, and his voice came out pitched half-a-tone lower than it usually sounded. “But I have lightning magic, I don’t—” He swallowed. He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. With trembling hands, he stripped off the Thor t-shirt he always wore to bed and ran his hands down a smooth, skinny chest. “No way,” he whispered again, and then he pulled down the boxers covering his skinny thighs and actually squealed. “Oh my god! I have a dick!”

           For the entire day, Billy oscillated wildly between ecstatic and fucking terrified. He felt right, he looked right, and after desperately digging out the razor he used to use to shave his legs and armpits, he managed to scrape off the fuzz on his chin. His face looked different, but it didn’t look different enough that he thought anyone would actually notice. Firstly because they’d have to look at him instead of looking through him and secondly because it was such an insane thing to happen that no one would ever, ever believe it. No one was going to come to the conclusion that “that weird Kaplan girl (ugh) grew a dick last night and is really excited about it!”

           But he wasn’t a girl and now he had goddamn proof of it, even if he couldn’t exactly show it to anyone. And that was fantastic! Less fantastic was the fear of how the other Young Avengers would take it, because it seemed really likely that Billy wasn’t just a lightning-user after all, unless they’d skipped some really crazy shit in Earth Science. And—there was Teddy.

           Teddy, who’d been so great about it when Billy came out to him, who’d never fucked up Billy’s pronouns, not even once. Who’d given him the most breathtaking smile and said that he wished they could swap powers for just a little while so that Billy could feel more at home in his own skin. Who, Billy had to admit, he kind of sort of definitely had a crush on, and he thought Teddy might feel the same way, but how would this change things? In principal, it shouldn’t change anything, but Billy couldn’t stop worrying about various different ways Teddy might react. He could be weirded out, or it might turn out that he was straight and he’d only been interested in Billy because Billy still looked enough like a girl. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Because Teddy was definitely one of the nicest people Billy knew, and if he was attracted to women, Billy was pretty sure he’d never put the moves on him, because he respected Billy’s identity too much for that.

           And, yeah, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world, definitely not. But it was such a depressing thought—having somebody attracted to you but attracted to you in a way you didn’t want to be. That would suck.

           He spent his lunch hour trying to figure out how this had happened, in the hopes of being able to report something more concrete to Nate and the others than, “my tits vanished overnight, I’m overjoyed, none of this makes any sense.” What had happened the night before? He’d wrestled with his precalc homework, mostly finished it, read one of his Thor comics, and then gotten hit with a wave of dysphoria. And he’d gone to bed and cried. That was it. Wasn’t it?

           It wasn’t until he was trudging out of school that he remembered the last thing. I am a boy, he’d said, when he was crying, when he was curled up in bed. I am. I am a boy. I am a boy. And he’d gone to sleep whispering it.

           Just like the day he’d said, I want to stop Kesler.

           Maybe his habit of verbalizing the spell he was about to cast wasn’t just a habit…Billy swallowed as his entire world seemed to shake on its axis. If he wasn’t just a lightning mage—what was he?

           Freak, whispered a voice in the back of his mind, and he shivered, pushing the thought to the side. Maybe the rest of the Young Avengers would have some ideas.

           “All right, before we go home for the night, does anyone have any news?” Iron Lad asked them, the way he always did, although it didn’t look as if he was going to wait for an answer, and he probably meant news about Kang the Conqueror. But Billy hadn’t managed to get anything out until now, and this was basically the perfect opportunity. And if he didn’t say anything now, he didn’t know if he’d ever manage to get it out.

           “So…” he said slowly. “You know how we thought I had lightning powers?”

           “Yes, and you’ve been doing a remarkably good job at learning to control—thought?”

           “Um.” Billy looked nervously from Iron Lad to Patriot to—Hulkling. “Um. So. I—” He couldn’t figure out how to say it. “Last night, I—you know how I told you I, um, don’t like the way I look?”

           “Oh, spit it out,” Patriot said, although he sounded more impatient than unkind.

           But Billy couldn’t. “Look. Last night I went to bed—the way I usually do—and this morning I woke up and—” He took a deep breath, reached down and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and hoody, yanking them up and over his head. He had to fight the absurd urge to cross his arms over his chest. “I was saying last night before I went to sleep that I—that I was a boy, y’know, because I was feeling kind of shitty, and—and—” Fuck. There were tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. That was stupid.

           A soft hand was laid on his shoulder, and he glanced to the side to see that Teddy was regarding him with a kind of wonder in his round blue eyes. Billy flushed to the roots of his hair.

           “That’s definitely something we’ll need to test,” Iron Lad agreed, and the matter-of-fact way he said it soothed part of the terror that had been gnawing at Billy’s innards all day. Patriot’s eyebrows went up, but all he said was, “Huh. Well. Congrats, man.”

           “Uh, thanks. I, uh, I guess I better put my shirt back on, huh.”

           “Here.” Teddy handed it back to him. “Um. You look good, Billy.”

           Billy’s cheeks chose that moment to go from slightly warm to approximately the temperature of the surface of the sun. “Uh, um, th-thanks,” he stammered, attempting to yank his shirt back on and getting tangled in it. “I guess, uh, we can talk more about it at our next training session?”

           “Good plan,” Iron Lad told him briskly. “Maybe if we can figure out the extent of your powers, we can figure out why you were listed on the Avengers Failsafe.”

           Billy tried to nod through the all-encompassing layers of shirt. It didn’t work terribly well. “Argh,” he groaned. “Can someone—”

           A pair of gentle hands took the hem of his shirt and tugged it down carefully. “You good?” Teddy asked.

           “Yeah, I th—” Billy’s voice was arrested as he finally managed to get the offending article of clothing straightened out and found himself staring straight into Teddy’s eyes. Apparently Teddy hadn’t been pulling from behind the way he’d assumed. Billy stared, trying to move his limbs, trying to do anything other than just let Teddy’s warm breath ghost across his mouth. And Teddy wasn’t moving away either, but—

           It was a fucking perfect moment, so of course Billy’s mouth opened and said exactly the thing most guaranteed to screw it all up. “Look—I’m flattered, Teddy, but, uh, if you weren’t attracted to me before—I don’t know if—” Yes, you do! screamed a voice in the back of his head. You know exactly what you want! You want to make out with his perfect face, right now! His brain couldn’t even use the you’re just a straight girl faking it anymore, but somehow he was still—afraid. “I mean. What if it’s temporary? I don’t really know how I did it, and—and—I’d rather not have you than just lose you again because, uh, my breasts came back.” Which, of course, was the point at which he realized that Teddy hadn’t said anything, so Billy had just assumed that he was thinking about kissing Billy the way Billy had been thinking about kissing him, and he might’ve just opened his mouth and shoved his foot so far down his throat he was kicking himself in the kidneys. “I mean, um.”

           Teddy went red, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Billy, I’ve always been attracted to you,” he said, and Billy’s train of thought derailed with a screeching crash of phantom brakes.

           “You…have?”

           “I, uh, didn’t know if you wanted anyone to be attracted to you? I knew you had issues with your body, and I didn’t want to complicate things by making you think about them too hard, I guess. But—maybe I accidentally complicated shit anyway?”

           “Fuck me,” Billy said incredulously, and Teddy got a mischievous look on his face.

           “Maybe I should kiss you first,” he suggested, and Billy flailed his arms in the air.

           “Kill me now,” he moaned.

           “Your instructions are getting worse,” Teddy informed him, and Billy opened his mouth, having absolutely no idea what he was going to say this time, but before he could drive his foot further into his abdominal cavity, Teddy cupped his hand around Billy’s cheek, bent down, and pressed their lips together. Billy froze in shock, and then he had his arms wrapped around Teddy’s shoulders, and he was kissing him back.

           “Get a room, you two,” Patriot sighed.

           Billy flipped him off over Teddy’s shoulder as he brushed gingerly at Teddy’s mouth with his tongue. The screaming little voice in the back of his mind that had consistently insisted that he had definitely fucked something up lately had finally gone quiet.

           After a long moment, Teddy pulled back, but his hands were still resting on Billy’s waist. “So, um,” he said, awkwardly.

           “D’you want to get something to eat together? Tonight?” Billy asked him eagerly, and Teddy’s face broke into a wide smile.

           “I’d love to.”

           “Fuck yes!” Billy leaned forward into Teddy’s embrace, then had to lean up and kiss him again, on the cheek this time. “This is the best damn day of my life,” Billy told him, and Teddy’s smile got, if possible, even wider.

           “I’m glad,” he said, and he squeezed Billy tighter.

[soovaryit]

Meme by @scariest_bug_ever aka my favourite person on the internet. I’m PMSing HARD, I’ve listened to The Climb by Miley Cyrus at least 20 times today, my boobs hurt and I don’t really want to post this but here I go.  These are my awkward ramblings about sex and dating that I will inevitably regret, part 1/2. (sorry mum and dad). I think I’m right in saying that ‘dating’ (even that word makes me cringe beyond belief) as a 20 something is a messy and mostly underwhelming experience. Dating apps add a new level of confusion to the mind fuck that is trying to find someone you connect, then throw in chronic illness and you have a really, really fun time. It’s important to say that these are just my opinions and general observations as a cis white woman who and I apologise if it’s boring heteronormative whining, it’s just (some of) my own experience. And I’m not generalising on the male population here either, again just stating things that have happened to me and most people I know. That’s the disclaimer over with. But ALSO bear in mind when reading this that I’m totally into text book romance really. And I want to find someone that I can build a life and a home with and pop out a few kids if my dodgy ovaries let me. I’m embarrassed now. But what I’m trying to say is that this isn’t a tragic ‘love doesn’t exist’ post, just honesty about the seemingly pointless and disheartening situations you end up in when trying to find something genuine with someone. I’m gonna start by stating the obvious, that dating apps like Tinder = toxic for the most part. Obviously it’s something I participate in, and me and my housemate Ali equally love and hate swiping through bios that read ‘Hey is good enough for a horse but I’d like something more constructive ladies’ and ‘£100 if you sit on my face right now!!!’ (I have a folder called ‘worst tinder’ if you ever feel like being traumatised). But on a level, it’s fucking depressing and reduces you to some kind of weird left swiping robot with no regard for humans. I know people who (and have myself) actually made genuine and lasting connections through it and that’s lovely, and one of the ways that the internet isn’t completely destroying humanity.   The main problem for me is that we’ve literally been brainwashed into finding THE ONE and the LOVE OF YOUR LIFE in a perfect situation where everything is magical and maybe Ryan Gosling will turn up and row you through a lake of swans or shout at you in the rain or something. Anyway, we sort of flail around expecting to find this probably non-existent person that we have super high expectations of whilst trying to find our focus in life, scrape by on pitiful salaries, plan our future, keep our physical and mental health intact and drink to numb the stress of all these things (if you haven’t gathered yet I’m finding my 20’s stressful guys). Navigating the dating scene when my health and sanity was in ruins wasn’t the best part of my life and I’m sure people were left with less than great impressions of me. I would not recommend doing this to yourself when feeling fragile; despite the part of your brain that cries ‘Put yourself out there!!! You’re young and free!!! Silence your depressing thoughts by drinking excessively with someone you don’t know very well!!!’  From the past few years of dating (ew that word), the thing I’ve noticed the most is how people seem to be desperate to make instant connections. Whether it be sexual, romantic, long term, short term, it seems less about knowing and understanding the people you meet and more about what you do with them or how often they appear in your snapchats or instagram stories. This is bearing in mind that I’ve participated in this strange, toxic world myself and am guilty of things too. Also to be clear I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with dating for sex , which is fun if there is a level of honesty and respect involved (I am sex positive make no mistake). It’s the expectations of dating that matter and the tedious situations that can occur when people aren’t upfront. I’ve noticed a particularly tiring and misleading new game that heterosexual men seem to play which I’ve decided to call ‘the girlfriend experience’ for the purpose of this blog (yeah I know that’s a service offered at brothels but shhh wait). The girlfriend experience is usually wanted by insecure men, desperate for a real connection but terrified of admitting that to themselves. They want a one night stand, or maybe even to see you regularly, and while they’re with you they will unleash a torrent of emotional baggage on you, attempt to exhibit all the traits you want in a partner, do ‘romantic’ things with you … and ignore you when you expect a fraction of attention back. This kind of shit has happened to me and probably everyone I know. Typically, this guy will then go on to sort of ‘lad’ about, assuming women will fall at his feet and returning to you whenever he so pleases. He will never explicitly state that he is just in it for sex, or even that he would like sex with a cup of tea and a nice chat after (which, in every case this that happened with, I would have been down for). He will instead lead you to a confusing point where you see him all the time, but are completely disregarded as a human being outside of sexual situations (and most importantly, in front of his friends). He will discuss feminism with you but show you (and women in general) a huge lack of respect. *side – note, this is similar to the traits of ‘faux feminist man’ and ‘Nice Guy™ ’ but slightly different – they will be explained later.*  I realise this might sound like I’m talking about one experience with one person but honestly, I’ve seen and heard about this scenario a million times. Is this what people call a fuckboy? Probably. Either way, if you are one of these guys: get a grip. State your intentions. Surprisingly, the people you're involved with will probably not break down at the fact you don’t get to be their one and only, and will probably just appreciate your honesty, enjoy seeing you casually or say that they’re looking for something more and say bye. Just be a sensible, emotionally mature human because it’s really boring and no ones gonna pat you on the back for it (and if they do they’re as stupid as you). I am 100% going to do a separate blog on faux feminist man (wears the slogan t-shirts, can name one popular White Feminist and becomes deeply offended when you’re not into him when he made the EFFORT to treat women like HUMANS, like god cut him some slack and show your appreciation through some lacklustre sex at least) and Nice Guy™ (most overused phrases: ‘Not all men are like that’, ‘I’m not like that though’ and my all-time FAVE ‘I’m not a feminist, I’m an equalist.’ A MILLION DICKHEAD POINTS TO YOU THEN MATE) because the world needs to be protected from them. Also Nice Guy™ isn’t really gender specific, it’s more a phenomenon that’s risen out of a combination of privilege and apathy towards anyone different from you. Got a bit carried away with the descriptions really but yeah.   My really embarrassing conclusion is this: The few times in my short life that I’ve genuinely been in love have been with flawed, messy human beings just like me and not a weird shiny social media representation that you briefly fall in love with and are inevitably disappointed by. I have no advice for anyone looking for someone to be with other than cliché, vomit inducing ‘love yourself first’ type bullshit. What I realistically mean is:  - Don’t expect one person to solve all your problems. - Don’t confuse love with having an emotional sponge who will absorb your negativity. - Don’t expect the person you’re with to turn you into a better version of yourself (usually at the expense of their wellbeing). - No one likes facing up to their problems and shortcomings but just do it cos it’s awful but you’ll come out the other side feeling more secure in yourself. - MOST importantly, don’t confuse passion and excitement for manipulation and emotional abuse. Went really serious at the end there but seriously it is easy to do and it’s important to watch out for it. Despite this train wreck of a blog post, these days I feel much more ready to let someone in having spent a few years sorting my own shit out.I look forward to the day I find someone who enjoys Louis Theroux documentaries, getting into bed at 5pm and scrolling through memes as much as I do. Part 2 of this blog will be more focused on the difficulty of maintaining honesty/expectations when dating when you’re also dealing with your own mind and body being against you. HAPPY FRIDAY.

[feral-animal-blog]

Just need a place to vent

Today has been the shits. First im pmsing hard core. My laptop and phone started doing this dumb thing so I wasn't able to put the new music on it because I didn't have file transfer or some shit which is dumb. It's not a new phone and I haven't changed any settings or downloaded any new apps. So I dunno wtf that was about. Took me 2 hours to put 50 songs on my phone.

Next I got into an argument on a Facebook post. (I don't think I've ever voiced my opinion on a post before but this dude was fucking ignorant and arrogant.) Was talking about how minimum wage shouldn't be increased to what they say it will be because all minimum wage workers are uneducated slobs who don't want to better themselves. Well that doesn't sit right with me. When I moved out of my parents house I moved in with my (ex) bf and a roommate. The roommate eventually left and my bf at the time left to get a better job up north and said I'd join him when he did. We ended up breaking up and I was stuck with a 1000$ rent and only making 800$ a pay check. That doesn't even included electric/water bills, car insurance, food and some female neccisities. To top it off this guy is a business owner. Like wtf? Do you really have that little care for your employees so much that you rather have more money than they have food in their bellies. Anyways that fired me up for what happened next.

I know this part is going to sound like utter gibberish but I play World of Wacraft. I have for a while, and I was in a guild that was awesome. They gave me and my boyfriend officer roles to help maintain the 300 people we have in the guild. Cool. At the start it was just my boyfriend and I pugging mythic+ keys trying to get better and the game. Eventually the raid lead of the guild said we should be having a hard core mythic+ group and a just for fun mythic+ group. We joined up with 2 other guys to do the dungeons with and eventually another guy joined to make a full group. We all meshed well together. We became very good friends. So much that my boyfriend and I are going to go and visit them in the states. Any who, our "job" was to help people with keys and get better. For months we posted in guild chat asking if anyone needed their keys done. Or if anyone wanted to join us, we never got any reply expect for a few people who joined every once it a while. That's cool, we'll just switch people out so everyone can get their 15 gear in a weekly chest. Eventually no one replied, we had to whisper people to see and they said no. No one was taking it as serious as us.

Months go by and our 5 core people started progressing on keys. We run key every single day to get better and learn mechanics. Still try and get people to join but not very many people do. Sure ok cool. But then our GM comes in saying we are a clique and that we need to stop grouping together because it's making other people feel bad. Like who though? We ask and ask and no body answers us. But that's not the root of the problem.

The root is that the GM and her husband run the guild. He raid leads and she gets everything together. They were having marital issues and taking it out on all the officers who help run the guild. Totally unfair, saying we aren't doing this or that. That we don't care about them. (Mostly the GM saying we never ask how she is although I did a few times and got one worded answers. Like how am I supposed to be able to help her or listen to her when she does that.

And then there is the raid. The raid lead did not want to do mythic progression and was teaching the Co gm how to run it cause he was think of quitting the game for awhile. The couple made up and apologized. But the raid lead always comes in with a shit attitude and it effects all 20-30 of our attitudes. The GM would always say we are too quiet and needed to liven up but we couldn't because wed be told to shut up or stop talking so much so we could focus. Uh okay?

On top of that out of 20 mythic raiders only 12 deserved to be there. All the others weren't gear enough, stat weights weren't right, didn't have the skill or simple just didn't know their class or spec nor wanted to learn about it. They just log on raid days collect the loot other people deserved and logged out unil next week. Where as us serious players got shit loot, I'm luck everything I got titan forged.

When we joined the guild the GM told everybody it was a drama free place. Where she was the one creating all the drama. About 10 of us got so sick of it and that lead to today....

A different Co gm posted in discord officer chat that we needed to have a mandatory guild meeting about the click issue and that whoever didn't show up would be demoted or kicked. That obviously started a burning rage in my friends group.

We all discussed in on private messages and just logged into game so we can all talk with each other about what was happen. We joined discord and eventually the Co gm joined and we actually had a civil conversation about what was happening. It was fine and everyone was calm and voicing their opinions without getting butt hurt.

Then came in the GM guns just fucking blazing. Yelling at us for this and for that and for not paying attention to her all the time. After about an hour of all the guys trying to say their opinions on everything but she would just not stop yelling and treating us like children.

I snapped.

I told her she was to fucking emotional to be running a guild. That we were not mythic progression ready and that she sucked at the new character she made. We shouldn't of even been bringing her into mythic raids because the people who actually did mechanics suffered. I told her she was bitching about every little thing and that not everything is about her. I was yelling and crying and everyone in party chat was like HOLY SHIT SHE DOES HAVE A BIGGER DICK THEN US!

Right after I let everything out the Co gm who is friends with us left the guild. Another followed, I did the same and so did my boyfriend. Turns out about another 5 people left the guild when we did as well. That's 10 people out of a 20 man raid gone. Who were all mostly their best dps just gone. Because she couldn't handle her shit.

I broke down balling after but all the dudes helped cheer me back up. Thank god for them. I was shaking I was so mad. Pmsing, haven't slept more then 3 hours a night for the past 2 weeks. I haven't eaten anything more than 2 cheese strings and tea a day. Was the wrong time to bring all this shit up.

But all of us that left the guild are taking a night off and will regroup tomorrow to see what we are going to do. We might server change and join a guild who is more into their progression then the last one. A few of the guys said they wanted to wait to join a guild until my boyfriend and I get back from our 2 month vacation but we said not to obviously. They can be working on that progression whilst we are gone.

I'm so glad I have all those guys. They are really great people. And they really care. Just way to much drama for me to handle. I don't even have that much drama in real life.

I know.. I know.... it's just a video game. Buts it's also not. I have no real life friends and no job at the moment because I'm leaving for a while. I have nothing else to do. I'm depressed and lonely and just overall sad. I play video games because it's a home away from home. I don't want to dread logging on or join raids because of all the nonsense drama going on there. I play to escape my real life.

But that's it.. needed to let it out somewhere. My mom gave me a hug today and I was shaking I was so angry even before the meeting. I need more hugs...

[amysubmits]

Hey Amy! I adore your blog, & I was wondering if you've ever experienced sub drop & if so, how do you deal with it. Thank you! (Also sorry if this has been asked before)

Hey Anon!

I don’t think this is a repeat but even if it was I wouldn’t mind. :)

Most of the time when I see people talk about subdrop it’s described as a sudden drop in emotions once intimacy ends. I’ve never had it exactly like that, I don’t think. I’ve never went from glee/joy to sudden sadness or anxiety once we’re done. 

What I have experienced at times is something that feels really fun for a long time, but then some tiny insecurity or worry works its way into my head while we are playing but I’m able to sort of push it into the back of my head, to enjoy the experience during, but then once we’re done, that insecurity come back with serious intensity. I have been diagnosed with anxiety, so I’m familiar with sort of arguing against my anxieties and insecurities and listening to the ‘real me’ thoughts instead of the anxious ones most of the time. Often when these anxious thoughts come after intimacy is, I’m just too fragile/sensitive/vulnerable emotionally to be able to pick apart what is what, and I sort of feed into those thoughts and end up in an anxiety spiral.  So…I’m not sure if this is really ‘sub drop’ or if it’s more…’your anxiety showed up when you were vulnerable from submission so it got the best of you for a minute’ type of thing? 

We always cuddle after being intimate no matter what we’ve done or how we’re feeling. If I have negative emotions afterward, we typically just talk it through. It’s silly, but when I have anxiety after being intimate, it almost always come back to the same few fears..and they’re all related. It typically start by worrying that I haven’t sufficiently pleased him. This is always totally ‘on me’ as he never expresses disappointment in me sexually or anything like that. I can have this anxiety triggered very easily at times. I’ve had it happen before when he’s told me something like “we’re going to use the hitachi next” and I grab it and he says “I didn’t say to start using it yet.” and he said it completely calmly, not scolding me or anything like that at all, just gently correcting me but I’ve spiraled from that sort of thing before. I’ve had it happen when I’ve orgasmed but he didn’t. I’ve had it happen when I’ve had an outburst of attitude or struggled with physically resisting spanking or something else uncomfortable at first. All of this is totally silly because he realizes that sometimes it’s natural for me to instinctively ‘bite back’, he knows sometimes I can’t hold still while receiving pain, and so on. I know that if he doesn’t orgasm it’s almost always a conscious choice he made, but even if not, it’s not like he is blaming me? So none of these expectations or fears come from him at all. I just have issues with idealizing what a perfectly ideal submissive would be/would do, and just other random anxieties as well. I’m well aware, even in the midst of panicking about it, that I am not being reasonable with myself, so they aren’t true beliefs, they are just thought that take over my emotions if that make sense? 

How it usually goes is, I start off with thinking I’ve made some mistake sexually, and/or didn’t please him enough. From there, the anxiety spirals into thinking that if I am not pleasing him enough sexually then the rest of my submission is also not ‘enough’. I feel that my submission is a big piece of who I am, and a huge piece of my relationship with CD, so if I start feeling like I’m a bad submissive, then I fail to understand how I have worth within our relationship or as a person. Again…this is all just irrational anxieties. I don’t really believe any of this when I am clear headed! 

I worry about my submission not having value…but honestly, this is usually tied to #1. If I feel like I am not doing great at being a submissive sexually then it sort of discounts the rest of my submission. If I can’t see the value in my submission then I start to question my value as a person. So, with these all being connected in my anxious brain, Yet at certain times, something that simple can just totally spiral my anxiety into ‘Do I have worth as a person?” which is clearly just absolutely illogical. But, when I’m in subspace my emotion are just really fragile sometimes I guess. We’ve noticed that I am much more likely to have a negative spiral if I am PMSing or hormonal….and I’m just more prone to anxiety and depression during that time of the month as well. So I feel like it’s little to nothing to do with what we are doing together and more jut of how sensitive I am emotionally during that time. We don’t do anything ‘intense’ for us (we avoid soft limits) if we know I am sensitive but sometimes I spiral just from doing stuff that is really basic and ‘easy’ for me any other time. It’s a pain in the butt, and neither of us want me to experience it, but we honestly feel like it’s impossible to truly avoid. I would say on average I might have this sort of ‘drop’ or anxiety thing happen once a month or once every other month? So it’s not that common, really. 

I’d like to just admit to him that I’m freaking out but honestly I usually try to act normal for some reason? I don't’ know why I do that..it’s not a good thing to do…that’s something I need to work on. Thankfully, so far anyway, he’s always picked up on something being wrong and coaxes me into talking about my fears and then he gives me his take on them. The last time this happened I made this draft that I never posted as without context it’s kinda sounding like I only have value because of elements of my submission and he certainly does not believe that, but I didn’t know how to explain that while also sharing these, I guess. But basically, he knew my anxiety was coming back to not seeing value in my submission so he was focusing on those things to counter that anxiety. He certainly thinks I have value outside of my submission, too but he was just focusing on the parts I needed to hear. Anyway here is what I wrote. 

I had temporarily lost the battle with the anxious, self-loathing little monster that lives in my head. The anxious and self-defeating thoughts got louder than my own and I lost track of which thoughts were mine and which belonged to the monster. CD cuddled me through the breakdown. I explained that I was struggling to see the value in myself within our relationship because I was struggling to see the value in my submission. I typed out a few of the reasons he gave me because they’re one I know I really need to burn into my brain better. He said…

You have value because you’re sweet.  

You have value because you trust me.

Your sexual submission has value.

There is pleasure in having my cock in your mouth even if I don’t cum.

You have value because you do as you’re told.

You have value because you try so hard to make me happy.

[stonaacomaa29-blog]

This is my life... :O

I rode my bike today when I got out of work.. I opened and left at 4. I then ran into Nano and Tato while they were wrapping up to leave. Nano tripped and fell but Tato was there for her and I didn’t see. She seemed ok.... but her shoulder was hurting. I’ll try to call her (which is out of the norm) later on this week. 

Jon Russo is back! I am so excited. I missed him too much... Oh well. 

Gotta start thinking if I’m gonna stay one or two days at BBP since it’s good part-time money. I have an interview at 11:30 tomorrow. WFM. Exciting? Have to be at BBP. Maybe I can ask Julita to come in for an hour. And on that note I just got out of class and Julita needs me at work so I’m going to go back to help out and get some extra hours. YES! 

No therapy this week.. I wish I did have therapy though....I went to the Hispanic Day Parade in Manhattan for J&J. It was actually really cool despite the fact that it was raining and so fucking humid. We handed out samples of products to the masses and listened to blasting Despacito lmfao. Given.. that day Dad told me that he’s going to have to move to save money and save for his non-existent retirement.  Thus meaning... Layla can’t go with him. He’s trying to give her away which truly crushes my heart. I feel like I failed... not like I was doing much I guess. Fuck.

Got out of my depression phase of last week.... I think I’m late for my period (also FUCK.)  I gotta see.. I gotta wait and see. Wellbutrin doesn’t make a difference. Idk. For my “ADD” I have been taking some Vyvanse..... It’s cool. I wish I could get prescribed. It actually has me thinking about one thing at once. It’s very interesting. 

These last few days I’ve been feeling very sick. I think it’s because I got the flu shot on Wednesday... After I got drunk with Will at Dingbats lol. I got a little mad at hime for not spending all his time with me but I knowwwww that concerts/shows is really the best chance for him to network as much as possible. I couldn’t hold him against him but since we took two different cars I left all angry. We didn’t argue or anything since that wasn't the point. Honestly I think I was just PMSing. Jesus. I hope I get my period.. lol.

Will stayed home sick on Colombus Day and I wasn’t scheduled so I got to spend nice quality time with him. Even though we spend so much time together already. Sheesh. It never gets old. I love him. I’ve come to the point where we are just companions to each other and best friends too. It’s really nice. I never thought I’d be able to be this way with Will. And you know what.... this is what I always wanted. I just never thought that my thoughts could become reality. And i know he really cares about me. It’s lovely. 

***Random note- I finally made a semi decent playlist for fucking BBP. It’s called ‘ woop.’ hehe. 

ok. Time to go to go back to work to get that moneyyyyyy.

Last but not least FML. 

[melisanavas]

HALF-TIME

By Meli Navas

Have you ever wanted to make a graffiti onto someone’s face when they make you angry? Or found a person who is so stuck into his own sadness that you suddenly feel the urge to cut their head down the middle to stuff it with happy tiny cute pastel things like confetti, marshmallows and glitter and then shake it off, so he can look less depressing and more like a snowglobe? Well, I have.

My name is Ramona and I live in Buenos Aires. I have only one job: going to University, but I am not very good at it. Living alone can be a huge problem for those who are trying to be more responsible. One day, you wake up late and that’s it. Your brain is changed forever. You are infected with unpunctuality, a disease that prevents you from being a disciplined person. You start missing the alarm and the 10 other times you snooze it. You live according to your biological clock, so you wake up whenever your body wants to do it. Every day feels like a piñata. You have no clue of what you will get out of it, apart from the angry faces who hate you because you’re late, again. That’s when you decide that the smart choice is not lose all your friends, and rather go vegan on plans. But I must say, flowing is not for everybody.  

I usually tell people that I moved here to study, including my parents, but that’s a fat lie. I don’t come from a family of lawyers or accountants, in fact none of them are professionals. I come from a family of good people. People who are very talented at putting everyone’s needs before their own. People who make the perfect neighbour, employee or husband. The type of people who society loves. I guess society doesn’t care about how perfect feels. But, I do. Perfect smells like advertising. Tastes like politicians. Sounds like a monophonic ringtone and feels like something is missing.

Moving to a capital city was a charade of growing apart from a family that didn’t feel human enough to be my family. For a long time, I was convinced that my parents illegally bought me at a chinese market, but then I realized I was being stupid because:

1) I look exactly like my mom 2) She is not Asian

My mom was the provider for a long time, that’s how she gained the power of control and became the alpha woman of the pack. She is the kind of person who doesn’t like receiving any help, but loves complaining about it. She also has a strong dislike for people who change - that’s a comfort zoner classic. I still don’t get what is it that she adores about her comfort zone, I mean it’s not even that comfortable. The place is full of multi-tasking, multi-eating and multi-stressing, so when you pass by, anxiety gets under your skin and starts driving your life, and you feel the urge of doing something, anything, anything that doesn’t involve relaxing of course. And you do, but you do not enjoy it.

My dad is always dressed in the same way: father shirt, father jeans, no belt. You can only tell that he has changed his clothes by looking at the colour of the cotton handkerchief he carries in his left rear pocket. On business days he alternates between the baby blue with white and navy stripes and the light brown with white and dark brown stripes. He saves the grey one for the weekends, it’s the fancy one of the set. I find this very entertaining, I hope one day someone makes a documentary about it. He also reminds me of my grandfather. But unlike grandpa he can actually hear. In fact he is a great listener, that is why he is always the one calling and I am always the one talking. We complement each other perfectly. He pays, I spend. He is huggable, I’m a hugger. Another thing he is very good at is shopping for food. He puts lots of passion into it, I think it makes him feel like a modern australopithecus hunting and gathering sushi for the tribe. It’s his macho moment. Or it was. Until mom ruined his fantasy by complaining about all his choices and now he is allowed to bring food she will never cook. So chocolate boxes are the only thing left from his prehistoric macho traditions. I want him to keep them alive, so I came up with this ritual: each time I go back home for the weekend, we have to turn the T.V. on and sit next to each other with at least one box of chocolates. During the ceremony, I am the one in charge of discovering what’s inside of each chocolate. So, I bite all the pieces, one by one, and pass them straight to him, the finisher, the one responsible for eating all my bitten chocolates. Our bonbon celebration was the muse of my new theory: “Dad was a grey giant furry dog in his past life”. I have solid evidence:

He knows how to keep you company He is a best friend by default He loves eating the leftovers

I have a brother too, who doesn’t give a shit about me and loves his routine very much. He leads the same life my grandfather used to. He wakes up at 7.30 am, eats crossfit food and reads the newspaper, starting from the obituaries. Then he exercises, watches TV and goes to bed before 10. He doesn’t drink alcohol, his comfort zone is a never-ending Monday.

Although mom would never admit it, I know that the comfort zoners of the family team up to hate me. My brother is a big devotee of that religion, he ignores me in every possible format: text, email, audio note, inbox, skype, phone call, selfie, flesh and bones. The only time he thinks about me first is when something bad happens. Then you'd better be in a crying-friendly place, because I am telling you, he has no filter. He makes every piece of bad news, worse, especially if it’s the death of someone close. Luckily, we are a small family and he has already used four and a half shots, one for each of my grandparents, and half for my aunt’s cancer. I am sure that right now he is fantasising about the lines he will text me when Susy finally dies. It’s one of his guilty pleasures. Or pleasures. I take the “guilty” back.

It’s been more than a year since I’ve decided to grow apart from my family and even though I still look like 19 year-old Ramona, I feel smarter. As if God was constantly updating my software without my permission to make my human apps work better, and now I can sense more and see new things in the same old situations. No, I am not on drugs. And yes, it’s a crazy experience.

The voice that controls your thoughts breaks and everything you think sounds more mature, more like a 28 year-old Clementine, who wears bordeaux lipstick and feels sexy when she lights up one of her white thin Virginia Slim cigarettes. Being smart is hot.

Clementine helped me realize how awkward our family dynamic has been during the past two weeks. My dad has been acting like my brother, he doesn’t call me anymore. So I had to act like my brother and team up with my mom, who has been acting like my dad. I don’t know what’s going on there, neither does Clementine. And the more I hear my mom on the phone saying everything is “good” and “perfectly fine”, the more I feel haunted by the ghosts of my brother’s text messages. I don’t know what to do. I need to think of a solution. So I turn the TV on - cable movies trigger my thinking. They are showing an Icelandic action movie on channel 42. Cool. I am watching an Icelandic weirdo walking in his weird Icelandic sweater. The phone rings. In real life, not in the movie. Time stops.

Clementine thinks that Ramona should do the right thing and go back home. Ramona is convinced that she’s being too sensitive. She is PMSing the whole situation. The Icelandic weirdo walks past an Icelandic sheep that matches his sweater. Ramona reminds Clementine that she only has 500 pesos left, spending that money means asking for extra cash. Clementine feels mom’s comfort zone getting more uncomfortable than usual. The Icelandic weirdo is now riding the matching sheep. Ramona tells Clementine to relax. Clementine is quiet. The Icelandic weirdo parks his matching sheep at the supermarket. Ramona doesn’t get it. Clementine doesn’t understand Icelanders either. The Icelandic weirdo steals a non-matching sheep. Ramona thinks of her family. Clementine feels bad for Ramona. The Icelandic weirdo is now being chased by three Icelandic policemen mounted on their three blue matching sheep. Ramona doesn’t know what to do. Clementine is quiet. Ramona breaks into tears. Clementine feels lonely. Clementine and Ramona are now sobbing.

They can’t do what they always do. They can’t call who they always call. They can’t call him. Dad.

Clementine turns the TV off, grabs a backpack, puts some clothes on and leaves the apartment to get into a cab. As the car moves, without even crying, tears start falling down her face and the streets of Buenos Aires become more and more blurry. The taxi stops at a red light, the window projects the scene of a young girl holding her father’s hand, waiting to cross the street. Ramona wonders if he is acting too. Pretending to be happy when he is not. The taxi leaves them behind and she looks into the rear-view mirror, trying to hold onto that image, but instead she discovers the reflection of a more grown-up woman, sitting in the back of the car. She looks as if she was holding a bunch of worries between her eyebrows and although she is not moving, she feels heavier than before. Her throat is blocked, the air doesn’t go through. It’s hard to breathe when reality has just cracked. Ramona wishes that her father would open up and talk about what was eating him, and that he had never acted the way he did today, like a sad little kid, calling for everyone’s attention through a stupid suicide note. Expecting someone to do better hurts. Expecting your dad to do better, hurts even more.

Ramona wants to believe in her father, like she used to believe in Santa, the monsters living under the bed and her imaginary friends. Clementine tells her that the magic is gone and wanting it back is only for comfort zoners. Ramona doesn’t want to be one of them, so she chooses to face the sad man that Clementine is now showing her. A man who wouldn’t understand the value of his own presence and would think that the only way to keep people in his life is by pleasing them. Ramona remembers her dad’s favourite mole, the grey hairs hidden in his moustache and his weird habit of never wanting to wear a belt, but this time she sees something new. She gets it. Belts are accessories exclusively designed for the ones wearing the pants. Knowing the size of your belt is knowing the size of your personal space, of how much do you occupy in a pair of jeans, in a room, in a marriage, in a family, in the Universe. Ramona is not sure that her dad understands this, so she decides to tell him how important he is and that it’s ok to be sad, because sometimes existing fucking sucks. He could count on her, no matter what and she meant that. Ramona understands now that complex situations require simple words, filled with good intentions. She is excited to show her father her new Clementine voice. She promises to herself that she’ll call him more often, so he can talk to her. She thinks of getting a job too, so the next time she will pay for his drinks. Her thoughts are now interrupted by taxi driver announcing that they’ve arrived at the bus station, Ramona pays and gets off, knowing that with each step she makes, she is closer to her father. The real one. Half-time is almost done.

[ss0ul--ssearching]

damn

lost in my feels right now about graduating.  I’ve been crying on and off all day but im also PMSing on account that I forgot to take my pill multiple days over spring break on account that I was having too much fun.  listening to landslide right now makes it all worse.  the day before spring break when me and anna rode around getting all of our supplies for our house on break we blasted the dixie chicks version when we were stuck in traffic, and we listened to it sitting on the couches drinking one night at the house, and it came on on the god awful ride home from spring break back to columbia.  i cried on the phone with my mom talking about how much i dont wanna graduate.  they dont tell you when you start the best 4 years of your life that one day theyll have to end.  they dont tell you that when you meet the best people in your life that you have to say goodbye.  in high school i never thought that i would meet friends like the ones I had at home, that i would just meet people to hang out with and pass the time with but god I was wrong. I feel like I meet the best group of people who i can finally be myself around and who make me happy and i feel so lucky, and then i have to leave them.  its the most depression feeling in the world.  i have never have my heart broken but this is what it must feel like.  i feel like part of my world is ending, leaving an entire life behind that i have grown so comfortable in.  i could not have asked for a better experience here at school and i thank god every day that i chose to go to school here at USC.  It will forever be my home and i cant stress enough how much i hate to leave this place - i will always hold a piece of it in my heart, and i can’t believe its over it went by so fast.  i literally want to throw a hissy fit everytime i think about graduating.  i want to scream its not fair, im not ready, i cant make it out in the real world, i cant make new friends, i dont wanna grow up.  and i think thats what it comes down to - i dont wanna grow up.  i remember feeling very similar as when i left high school for college.  but i had something to run away from, and i had something to look forward to - and i had something to go back to. thats the difference.   now my future is filled with uncertainty and fear and i hate it.   

i cry when things end and i cry when things start because i am scared that i will never have it as good as i do right now.  i need to be thankful that i have something so special that i am terrified to let it go and i need to trust that the future has things just as good in store for me but its so hard to let certain parts of my life go.  a lot of it has to do with people and experiences.  i cried in 5th grade when i graduated and had to go to middle school.  i cried at middle school graduation because i had to go to high school and growing up was getting a little too real. i cried when sean, liz, courtney and quinn graduated from the swim team. i cried at the last swim meet of my own high school career because i loved to special bond the team had and how hard we tried together and the sport i put so much of my life into was almost over.  i cried at high school graduation outside on my front curb with quinn because we had grown up together and we were moving on to a new chapter of our lives.  i cried when i said bye to my sister in her hospital room.  i said bye when she wasn’t there at my graduation party.  i cried when i was shot gunning nattys and eating pizza in kaitlyns backyard with everyone because i had never been away from them for that long and i thought i would never meet people as amazing as them.  i cried saying bye to my dad and the whole drive down to south carolina.  i cried on the last day of my freshman year because i didn’t want to leave my school friends and i cried going to and from home pretty much every time since them.  and here i am crying right now listening to landslide/i hope you dance realizing i am extra as hell and i need to get a grip and learn to handle change but its so damn hard.  i guess what this means is even after all the shitty things i think i have to deal with i am the luckiest person in the world to have people and experiences in my life that makes it impossible for me to say goodbye.