#streak of daily posts in the ''mine'' tag there now it counts

[megacarapa]

AT LONG LAST..... here is the needlepoint ive been working on since march :3

again much like last time what actually happened was that i bought it in march and worked for like a month, then ignored it for a few months except a bit here n there, then fully picked it back up in late july and worked on it basically every day til i finally finished it last week

i finished it tuesday afternoon and went to have it framed wednesday morning and the frame was already done thursday morning so i immediately went to pick it up and then went to give it as a gift to my grandma the next day LIVE FAST NEVER STOP THE GRIND🔥🔥🔥

anyway so um. i love needlepoint so fucking much i think it might be my favourite thing, its my fucking happy place, i killed my arm while working on this but i couldnt stop 😂 embroidery is nice but ugh. needlepoint <3 nobody else like her

also the reason that the background is a different color at the bottom is bc i realized too late that i was using the wrong color but wtw it still looks nice

anyway time for some more pics, here’s what the backside looks like

size comparison to my first needlepoint :3

i didnt take that many process pics this time especially around the end point and i regret it fgdfgg but heres the few i did take

idk how to take good pics <3 THX FOR READING

[pinknerdpanda]

Stress Relief

Stress Relief

Characters: Reader x Cas, Sam, Dean

Word Count: 1185

Warnings: Anxiety, Pain, Fluff, slight language

A/N: Not beta’d so...be gentle. :) The pic is not mine

Forever Tags: @wheresthekillswitch @arryn-nyxx @emilywritesaboutdean @fandommaniacx @cookie-dough-lova @spnfanficpond (Pond Tags at the bottom)

*If you would like to be removed from or added to my tags, please let me know.*

Today sucks.

That’s about the only thing you're able to chock it up to. It just...sucks. There is no great big bad reason, just some shitty bits a pieces strewn about. And damned if those little things didn’t add up quickly.

First of all, being stuck at the bunker is not fun. You’d much rather be out on the road with Sam and Dean, stretched across the backseat of Baby in search of God-knows-what is causing these disappearances, than here, laid up with a messed up back, hardly able to move without bitching to yourself, because, ya know, who else is around to listen?

You hate feeling useless and that is what started this whole day on the wrong foot. Sure they’d been sympathetic, offering to run to the store for pain meds or a new heating pad before taking off, but being left behind makes you grumpy.

Then there’s the issue of your anxiety medicine. You've been so distracted the last few weeks, you hadn’t realized how low your prescription bottle was until it was completely empty. That was a week ago, and now here you sit, in pain and without the benefit of a chemical sidekick to keep your mind at ease, all because your insurance had changed their coverage of daily medications.

So long are the days of being able to make the trek into town to pick up a refill. No, now you have to wait until the mail order company gets around to shipping them out. And where exactly were you supposed to have them addressed to, “Y/N, MoL Bunker, Lebanon KS”? Right! You’d opted instead to reserve a box at the Post Office to receive your precious mail. You check your email for a shipment notification coming up empty handed. Again.

The Winchesters have only been gone 3 hours and already you have spoken with them each a few times. Sam called first, apologizing for having brought you the wrong kind of medicine. You’d assured him it was alright. How is he supposed to know that Ibuprofen makes your stomach feel like it is being extricated from your body through your belly button?

Dean called next, asking if you could head to the library to do some research on ghouls, since you were “just hanging out at ‘home’ already.” Normally a comment like that would have rolled right over you, and you’d have been more than willing to oblige. Today is not that day. What comes out instead is some self-pitying “woe is me” garbled nonsense, ending with something along the lines of “Up yours, Winchester.”

Cursing yourself for throwing your phone across the room, you stand gingerly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to pour from your eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you, y/n?!” You say the words out loud to yourself.

Your phone starts ringing again before you’ve made it halfway across the small space, wincing with every step. Your hand hovers over the device as the loud noise comes to an abrupt end. Your fingers grasp it tightly as a notification pings, indicating a new voicemail. You press play on the message and Dean’s rich voice booms from the tiny speaker.

“Listen, y/n, I’m sorry if I upset you. Sam says it was insensitive for me to…” his voice trails off briefly and you hear a muffled sound in the background. “Yeah, it was insensitive for me to suggest that you had nothing better to do than research the case. I was also wondering, did your medicine come in yet? Maybe that would help.”

A squeal of frustration explodes from your mouth and you stomp your left foot, sending a wave of searing pain right into your lower back, and you nearly double over.

The dam holding back your tears gives way as hot salty streaks stream down your face. You know you are being ridiculous and oversensitive, but you don’t care. In this moment, you allow your emotions to overwhelm you as you sink slowly into a nearby chair.

Of course having your medicine would help, but damn if you don’t want someone else pointing that out to you! Your shoulders shake as violent sobs rip through your chest. It is bad enough that you feel like a crazy person, but now one of your dearest friends on earth, Dean Winchester, thinks you are insane too, or else why would he make such a suggestion? You clench your eyes tight and suck in a deep breath between heaves, the sound obscuring the soft rustle of angel’s wings.

When you are finally able to open your eyes again, a pair of bright blue ones stare straight back at you making you jump, another ripple of pain to coursing through your body.

“Damnit Cas!” You growl at him in a tone much angrier than you’d intended, though he appears totally unfazed by it.

“Y/n.” His voice is low and raspy and there is something extraordinarily soothing about it. “I heard your prayer and came quickly. Where are Sam and Dean?”

“They are working a case. My prayer?” you stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Well, perhaps prayer isn’t the right word, but you were giving off a major distress signal.” His eyes roam your face, his head tipping slightly to one side. “You are hurt.” It is not a question.

The angel reaches out two fingers, touching them gently to the center of your forehead, generating a gentle vibrating warmth that spreads through your whole body. Suddenly the pain in your back is gone and you are able to sit up straight.

“Thank you.” You gaze at Castiel as a fraction of a smile plays at the corner of his lips and he looks away. “So does your angel ju-ju work on anxiety too or just physical ailments?” His eyes meet yours again, but the smile is gone.

“I’m sorry, no. It only works on physical problems.” The sadness in his eyes takes you by surprise.

“That’s ok, Cas. Healing my back was a huge help.” You lean forward, placing your lips gently against his stubbled cheek. “Thanks for hearing my not-prayer.”

Castiel smiles, and stands, offering his hand to help you up. You grasp it, rising to your feet. The feel of his hand in yours makes your belly tickle.

“I can think of some other, more human ways of relieving stress and anxiety.”

You stare at him in shocked, albeit fascinated silence. You open your mouth but shut it quickly, unsure how to respond. Cas’s smile in warm and full of innocence.

“The new season of Sherlock is on Netflix,” he gestures toward the door. “I can go make some popcorn while you get it queued up, if you would like?”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, stifling a giggle and nodding.

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you Cas.”

Castiel turns to walk out the door, but stops suddenly, looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Or, we could always call the pizza man.” He throws you a wink before exiting the room.

Pond Tags: @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @mrswhozeewhatsis @deals-with-demons @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @purgatoan @notnaturalanahi @bkwrm523 @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @wildfirewinchester @for-the-love-of-dean @fiveleaf @idreamofhazel @ilovedean-spn2 @jpadjackles @babypieandwhiskey @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @teamfreewill-imagine @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester @oldfashioncdvillain @your-average-distracted-waffle @drarina1737 @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @mysaintsasinner @ohwritever @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder @clueless-gold

[lionsonjupiter]

encouraging self destruction online

this is going to be a very long post. trigger warnings for:

- mentions of self harm (and the effects)

- mentions of eating disorders (and the effects)

- encouragement of self destructive behaviors

- self destruction for attention

- toxic internet communities

- mention of an abusive partner

note: all of the accounts that i mention are mine. they are all either deactivated or have been terminated

i think it's terrifying that over the last four and a half years, i had managed to get nearly 3000 followers across five tumblr accounts and two twitter accounts because i was destroying myself for an audience. it's taken me a lot of strength and time to be able to process what i was doing for nearly half of a decade. i had a following, so many people waiting to see or hear my next action.

the popularity i had seemed wonderful to me at the time, but i now see it as absolutely disturbing. 800 likes on videos of graphic self harm that i posted. over 1200 likes on a post about being scared of pasta. i would get my accounts suspended or terminated over and over again, but i never stopped. i soon figured out that the worse i was, the more popular i got.

i often received messages of people who were concerned for me, but i just saw them as annoying. i was finally liked, everyone seemed to like what i was doing. i joked about how i wasn't going to get stitches when people were begging me to get them. i joked about how everything was fine. i joked about how screwed i'd be if any of my family found my accounts. it was a dangerous game that i was happily playing.

sometimes, i got messages from people blaming me for their young teenager getting into self harm or starving themselves. i felt guilty for making my issues seem cool to outsiders. i never stopped, though. i always asked people to not look at my account, but that didn't stop anyone. i was responsible for kids thinking it was fun to cut, fun to starve themselves, fun to slowly kill themselves. it isn't fun. it never was.

living like that was absolutely miserable, but i always ignored it. i was took weak to stand up sometimes. i couldn't shower for weeks because i had a wound that would get infected if left uncovered. i was scared of being around people because i was paranoid that they knew what i was doing. i isolated myself because i was scared that people could figure my secrets out by just looking at me. i fainted when i stood up, i couldn't climb stairs, i was shivering in summer, i was worried sick about infections and scars. i became anemic, and still am. but none of that was enough to stop me.

why would i stop? i had thousands of people counting on me to encourage them or entertain them. yes, encourage. i never wanted people to feel motivated to do anything i did, but it happened. people would ask for my supplies, they would ask for tips and tricks, they would ask for advice. i never gave it to them, but that doesn't mean that they never figured it out themselves. i was a role model for self destruction, whether i wanted to be or not.

the communities i was in often said that sharing their self harm and their caloric intake for the day made them feel like they werent alone. they aren't lying, being in those communities with people who are just as sick as you are is like having a second home. that's where to positives end. when you're there, a side product of being there is that you can never see that bad side. they were, unintentionally or not, motivating each other to stay sick, making others feel bad for not being sick enough, being the catalysts for other people to get worse and worse.

i found edblr through an awareness video in 6th grade. i was 11 years old, and i quickly got sucked it. a comment on my weight by my brother was fresh on my mind, so it was a perfect place for me... at least i thought it was. i found shtwt through edblr in mid 2020, and quickly got popular from my videos and pictures. i wouldn't have ever found any of that, i wouldn't have gotten that bad, if i had never watched that video.

i got a partner in 2019, and after about a year, she had started talking casually about being anorexic, talking about how unhappy she was with herself. it made the competitive nature i had from edblr boil over. that's when i really started to get bad. i did the worst i could, and subtly bragged to her about it to show that i was better at destroying myself. she only berated me and yelled at me, and that fueled me further. she was abusive at the best of times, and my self harm became an outlet for that, as well as a competition. i wont say how bad it got here.

when i left her earlier this year, i suddenly lost my momentum. i had no one to compete against. i had been considering recovery for aa few weeks before i left, and it suddenly felt so much easier to do it not that she was out of my life. i had tried to recover on many occasions, but they always failed.

i've been in recovery from anorexia and self harm for 3 months now. i recently hit my 100 day self harm free streak. i try to eat at least 1 good meal a day. i try not to look at nutrition labels, i don't use knives, i have eating disorder and self harm tags blocked. i no longer have any accounts linked to edblr or shttw. without an audience, i feel no pressure.

what i'm trying to say with this post is that these communities are toxic and horrible. they've killed people. it takes a whole lot of willpower to delete that account, to admit that you're sick, but i promise you that its more that worth it. i wouldnt say that i'm better now by any means, i still fantasize about self destruction on close to a daily basis, but i'm slowly getting strong enough to ignore them. i surround myself with as many positive influences that i can.

so, from the bottom of my heart, fuck edblr, fuck shtwt.