#too tired/anxious/depressed to create

[marvelmaniac2000]

The Riddler - (Edward x Reader) 💚 Ch.2

 Summary: Edward can’t help seeing you struggle with your day to day life, if only there was a way to make it more tolerable.  

Subject: Deep! meaningful fluff, eventually will turn into smuts in upcoming chapters, desperation, submissive kink, savior kink, Being pampered/babied kink, stalking, minor depression, mystery thriller?

MATURE 18+/ MISPELLING GRAMMAR APOLOGIES

Words: 981

Characters: Edward Nashton x Reader (college fem! reader)

                                             (Side notes) 

  I’ll try to let you guys know when I will post the next chapters. Or at least try to post in advance when it will be out but hopefully maybe there’s a certain day in my schedule I can be consistent If not turn your notifications on for me ig. But anyone who follows I hope you enjoy the readings to come! <3 

 Ch. 1 2 3

____________________________________________________________

   Edward sat on the subway train with sweaty palms. It seems so crazy how he could act like a confident prude in front of you, but deep inside when you’re gone, he’s nothing but an anxious mess. He frantically looked around the subway seeing the absent minded people all mind their business. Gotham wasn’t a good city to go catching love or trying to be a good citizen. Edward knew right away that you weren’t from this city, you seemed so delightful but yet so dreary being able to blend in with everyone here all too well. 

  “Excuse me sir, do you know how to get to Gotham’s courthouse from this stop?” a random man who had a hunched briefcase leaned down toward him. “Uh no not really sorry” he pushed his glasses up and lowered his head. 

  “Don’t you live here?” he scoffed. 

“Yea, but I simply don’t know sir” Edward grew tired of the people around him. All so rude and corrupted. But when he thinks about you he feels all of his pain go away. No one ever made him feel as happy as his lovely girl. Everyday he needs to see you at least once. His little darling girl, his doughy eyed girl. You were so young and vulnerable, but deep inside you knew what you were doing to him. Deep inside him he wanted to fuck you like a whore and own your body. But eventually he would have it. Patience is something he knew all too well…

        His office space was something stereotypical from his boring cubicle and office supplies on the table. He noticed an extra pile of work that had been slammed on his desk early this morning. One of his coworkers popped his head up next door to him. 

  “Hey more work to do today what a fucking asshole” he rolled his eyes. “Yea I know this isn’t nothing we aren’t used to” he replied. 

Edward leaned his elbows down and moved his cursor back in and forth from the screen. Mentally he was at work but emotionally he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He opened his work tab and tried to get in his zone. But of course he had to open a second tab to make sure he was stalking your social media account. He never missed a post. 

His pants harden looking at your profile pic. This girl he grew so infatuated with was going to be living with him. Every day, every second, every hour,  every moment will be spent alone with her. He wants to devour his hands around your soft skin and caress your hair. So perfect and lovely you are… 

There’s so much that had to be done, he had to figure out how to clean out his apartment and make room for your stuff. He couldn’t let you see all of the things he’s collected from you and the obsessive things he’s created in his world. It would scare his precious girl off. He couldn’t let you escape. He finally got what he wanted and there was no stopping him. 

Edward looked at his phone, and realized you held his phone with your delicate fingers. He now has your number. He now has the power to call and text you whenever he wants to. The truth inside him hurted knowing he already knew your address and contact information already, but it was the only way he could be near you, he loved you dearly. Excitement drew deep inside him, he felt like he was hit with some kind of drug. He was addicted to you, and finally having his lovely girl live with him was all surreal. 

     After Edward’s meeting with his manager, he scurried down to leave work to come find you waiting for him. Before he entered he watched for a minute unbothered. The way your hips moved around the tables and how effortless you were with other people around. He needed to clean his room fast before he let you in.

   He entered the cafe and tried hard not  to look at your shirt picturing your soft bouncing breasts. 

  “So how was your day?” He sat at the counter and handed over a key. 

“Oh geez it was.. good”  she gave you a naive smile and plopped down on the stool next to you. “How did you manage to make a spare key already?” you furrowed your brows. 

“I have my ways” he shrugged and swiveled his stool to make his knees brush yours. 

“You should move in whenever you’re ready tho” 

You blush a bit red seeing those eyes kiss your soul. “Um thank you E-Edward” you smiled. 

“Can I call you Eddie instead? I feel like that fits you more” you blushed.

“Whatever you want, we’re roommates now” he grinned. 

“Well not yet but I feel like we made the right choice” you flirted back. 

She said we, Eddie’s mind race. Someone needed to pinch him already. He couldn’t wait any longer, he was going to pay you a visit tonight in your bedroom if he had to. He needed to be inside you now, you both were roommates right? 

Tags: @miurumacaroons

please! leave any feedback/likes/comments <3 Thanks to anyone who supports us lil fanfic writers. we do it for yall!

#love story #writing #fanfic #the batman #edward nashton #edward naston fanfic #edward nashton x reader #edward naston smut #the riddler #riddler x reader #the riddler smut #riddler fanfic #riddler love story #dc universe #bruce wayne

[witchhatproductions]

Witch Hat News #5 - In Sickness and in Health

by Tata Calthrop

This is an archived version of our microfiction newsletter! You can read along on our tumblr, or subscribe here.

Hey there! It's been a few months since you last heard from us, hasn't it? How have you been? I'll go first: I've been bad! Let's talk about creativity and mental health.

I don't speak much about my mental health publicly, but let me summarise it for you; I was a very happy teenager who plummeted into clinical depression at about age nineteen and never fully recovered, and it sucks. That said, the consequence of this is that I've been in therapy for years and read dozens of books about psychology for both patients and professionals, so even if I'm depressed, I'm also wise as all hell. (I suspect if I weren't depressed, I would probably be completely zen.)

I have an excellent relationship with my creative craft, and my evidence for this is that I am both alive and still actively creating things. A lot of people never learn to manage the balance. Many of the artists and writers I meet are weighed down heavily by the burden of not being good enough. "I'm an artist, but I get so anxious that I only draw once every few months, and then usually throw it away," my friends will tell me, ashamed. "I'm not good at it."

"I'm not really a writer," say the people I meet on discord. "I have this idea for a story that I've had for years, and I've written down some small things, but not anything I can show anyone – I'm not good enough yet."

On the other end of the scale are the creatives who push themselves through constant burnout, who neglect eating and sleeping in order to create as fast and voraciously as possible. A "successful career" may be built on five hours of sleep a day and constant, haunting guilt about keeping up engagement and output. I think it's very easy to hide in hard work. You can have terrible self-care and self-awareness and be falling apart in every area, but if you work hard, and succeed, you never need to feel guilty about the other stuff. 

You know who can create constantly, yet never get tired? Artists and writers who can spend hours every day effortlessly making things, while also being entirely present in their own lives? Children. Human beings are born with the constant urge to be creative. It's pretty well-studied that imaginative play and brain development are directly linked in small children. It's in their nature to engage in make-believe. Very few four-year-olds freeze in front of a blank piece of paper, because they know how terrible it feels to be bad at drawing and don't know where to begin with the idea they had without failing utterly. That's a particular madness we learn as we grow up.

I'm biased, but I firmly believe that playfulness is what makes us human. What we describe as "intelligence" in other animals is often correlated with their adaptability – their ability to conceptualise and understand things they've never experienced before, and maybe didn't even know were possible. This, too, correlates with playfulness. Dolphins, crows, octopuses, and great apes – all very different animals – play games. Despite all having taken wildly different evolutionary paths to get there, they have all separately developed play.

To be human is to create. To imagine is to be human. So that's my way of not worrying about my creative output – whether I'm making enough, whether I'm good enough. I do not create art in order to sell it, or to gain praise for making it, although I would welcome it if either of those things started happening to me regularly. It does not need to be good, or valuable. It has the same value and function as the paintings I made at preschool when I was four; it is the byproduct of my humanity. Let go of the idea of being a "good artist". Nobody is a good artist. The only thing any of us is really good at is being human, which tends to get in the way of the other stuff.

"How do I create more, without letting anxiety or laziness get in the way?"

I'm here again, writing my newsletter. How long until another mental health break knocks me flat again, I don't know. But right now, I feel motivated to put words to paper (or words to mailing list, as it were), and I'm going to follow that feeling until it's gone. My advice to you is to do the same. Joy is a very precious gift; to enjoy creating something is divine. You are human, and that is enough. Put aside your doubts. Create ambitiously, stupidly, passionately, in any way you can, as long as you're having fun; and once you learn to have fun, the trick of learning how to create more and better is a very simple one. 

So, here: Three things that spoke to me about the subject of mental illness, death, and the arts. Let's drink to our good health, eh?

Recommendations

So Sad Today: Personal Essays by Melissa Broder. A series of devastating essays about illness, addiction, dysfunction, and brutal, intimate, visceral emotion. I have few words for this one. I found it indescribably powerful.

Sawbones have an excellent episode about personal mental health stories. This one's much easier to listen to, but it's still quite personal, as these things tend to be. It spoke to me as someone who, at the time, kept a lot of my issues completely secret.  

To The Moon by Freedbird Games: At the dying wish of a old man, two scientists must navigate and rewrite his memories of life. A short, funny video game, with very charming characters and hilarious jokes and – genuinely – one of the most sad and beautiful character dramas I've ever experienced in video game form. 

Your project here. Do you make art of any kind - visual, written, performed? Are you starting a project or recruiting co-creators? We want to hear from you! Email us at [email protected].

That's it from me. I'll see you on the flip side, however far away that is. I'm not giving up! And neither should you!

#witch hat news #newsletter #mental health

[deadbydangit]

Hi! If you’re open to taking requests right now could I please ask for how bubba, Jeff, and vittorio would take care of their sick s/o? Tysm!! <3

I can absolutely do that. I'm sorry it's been taking me so long to get to requests. I've been anxious, tired, and kind of depressed. But I'll keep trying to bring everyone at least one thing every day.

Taking Care of a Sick Reader

Jeff, Vittorio, Cannibal

Jeff Johanson

Jeff is a very vigilant person.

He's always been that way.

So when the first sign of you being sick appears, he knows.

You just sneezed though.

"You sneezed three times. Every time that happens you start to get sick."

And he's right.

As an artist and musician, he's trained himself to pick up on tiny little details.

First off, straight to bed.

If you're in the middle of something, he'll finish it for you.

No: ifs, ands, or buts.

You're in bed.

At least when you're sick, you get to have his amazing soup that he only gives you when you're sick.

It's his way of creating a silver lining.

He isn't big on medicines though.

Jeff was in a bad crowd, he had seen people get addicted to drugs from the littlest things.

He just doesn't want to risk that in you.

Instead, he'll go more homeopathic.

You'll be better pretty quick too.

It doesn't matter how much you coughed and sneezed, he won't get sick.

It's like he has super powers.

"I don't have super powers, I just can't be sick. Otherwise, I couldn't be there for you."

Vittorio Toscano

During his time, a cold could mean a death sentence.

So, even if he doesn't show it, he's very worried.

Vittorio is really good at hiding that worry though.

He doesn't want you to panic.

That would only make things so much worse.

Some of the other survivors might have to catch him up on modern medical knowledge.

Once he's assured that you aren't going to die, then he'll be much more helpful.

He'll insist on doing everything for you.

Even carrying you.

Everywhere.

Even if you don't need it.

He doesn't really understand that you don't need that.

Or he does, and just wants to be your hero.

Modern medicine is far from what he knew; pills and other drugs aren't common knowledge to him.

What is common is plants.

He'll be working together with Claudette to use herbs to make you feel better.

It tastes terrible.

But it does have you feeling better.

He doesn't get sick either.

He knows to wash his hands and give you some distance.

"Now that you are feeling well again, I can safely hold you."

Cannibal

This boy is surprisingly calm.

You'd expect him to panic or not know what to do.

But he's very calm.

He had a big family.

Big.

And he would usually take on a very motherly role.

He's taken care of everyone in his family with sicknesses at least once in their life, usually more.

Bubba is super good with helping you when you're sick.

He might not seem like it, but he's very tender and affectionate when he wants to be.

He isn't a fan of showing that side of him to the rest of the world though.

It's only reserved for you.

He might try and cook you some soup.

Do not eat that soup.

Seriously.

Don't eat it.

To spare his feelings, just say that your stomach hurts too much to eat.

He's very gullible.

He knows it's important that you drink plenty of water and get plenty of rest.

He'll frequently check on you throughout the day too.

You'll never have an empty water glass, nor will you never have enough blankets.

He knows exactly what you need, and how much of it you need.

And, as much of a pushover he may be, you aren't getting or doing anything that will make you feel worse.

Your job is to lay in bed and get better.

His job is to take care of you.

And he takes that role very seriously.

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd cannibal #dbd bubba #dbd jeff #dbd survivor #dbd vittorio

[moriartyluver]

Hello<3 can I request smth where William is working late at night in his study thinking his noble wife is asleep but than she comes to him with tears in her saying she had a bad dream and she refuses to tell William what the dream was about but asks if he’ll ever leave her (not in a leaves her for another woman way but in a he dies way)

Thank you in advance🫶

A/N: thank you for your request anon! I hope that Ican do it justice.

Character: William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Format: oneshot

Genre: angst with some comfort at the end but it’s mostly bittersweet

Prompt: above ^^

Warnings: mentions of suicide, smoking, self harm, the word ‘cannibalise’ used once or twice, anxiety mentions, mentions of depression and mental illness, somewhat toxic relationship if you squint, reader is a noblewoman, reader is female, established romantic relationship, reader is William’s wife, the end isn’t that comforting tbh, spoilers for season two, takes place after William talks to Fred in that one scene (iykyk), mentions of death.

William often found himself working late at night. It was no surprise to anyone who knew him. You and Louis would often scold him for his lack of self care after finding him asleep and cheek covered in pen ink at his desk in the mornings.

Still, he enjoyed the experience of it. He had to get a lot of work down and he couldn’t just sleep when there were many plans to be completed. It was what he would dedicate himself to outside of teaching in the university and killing nobles. The moon would often be the only light beside the candle on his desk, illuminating the room through his window. It created a melancholy atmosphere for him and one that gave him a strange and twisted sense of comfort.

Tonight was no different to the usual. He was sat at his desk, creating a plan for the next assassination of some sick noble that had to be eliminated. The full moon shon on his papers, casting a blue hue over it. The manor was silent. It usually was at night. Louis had always made an effort to go to bed on time and you had done the same.

A pair of scarlet eyes glanced at the clock on his wall. It was shortly after two o’clock in the morning, and he still didn’t feel too tired. Your husband would often push his limits too much and you noticed this. He wouldn’t sleep despite looking incredibly tired. He wouldn’t eat meals on time despite feeling an empty and hungry feeling in his stomach. He wouldn’t take care of himself in any way despite needing it the most.

He wondered what you were doing as of now as he placed his pen down. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shown you how much he truly appreciated you. You would often kiss him goodnight as he sat in his office, a small frown painting your pretty features, before walking to bed, to lie there by yourself. He would sometimes crawl in with you under the covers while you were still asleep and he had finished whatever work he was up to, but you would wake up to an empty bed more often than not, the comforting feeling of his arms around your waist had gone.

Surely this had some sort of mental impact on you. You knew that your relationship with the love of your life wouldn’t last. The warning signs of his suicidal tendencies had shown themselves to you very evidently. He wouldn’t speak too much of your future together and you noticed his habit of smoking wasn’t because he was an addict, but more a means of punishing himself.

You still clung to the hope that maybe that day would never come, but it haunted you all the same, like a ghost hovering over you through your daily life. No matter how much you lied to yourself, that ghost didn’t seem to disappear. Instead it would cannibalise your soul, eating away at you while you worried for your lover none stop, constantly anxious that he would die any second now.

The ghost haunted your dreams too. Sometimes they wouldn’t be too intense and scary, so you’d only wake up in a cold sweat and a few tears welling in your eyes. If you husband lay beside you, you would wipe your tears as your heart beat steadied and cling onto him, hoping to never let him go, and if he wasn’t, you’d walk over to his office and check up on him, just to reassure yourself that he was real and alive.

That night was different though. You managed to find out through Fred that your husband planned on dying soon and you felt your heart break within your chest. He was going to disappear and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it.

You woke up from a terrifying nightmare later that night. You saw yourself holding your dead husband in your arms as he lay limp while you held him. The image was too realistic and you thought, at first when you woke up, that it was all real. The realisation that he was alive hit you as your mind managed to rationalise itself afterwards, but you couldn’t stop the tears form uncontrollably flowing down your cheeks.

You couldn’t help yourself. You had to go see him in his office. Just once. Every moment mattered now. Every interaction you had with one another could be your last.

William noticed the door creek open. He looked up from the papers in front of him and his eyes landed on the door. It was you. He was quick to notice the tears streaming down your face and your unsteady breathing. You tried to remain calm and rub away the tears with the sleeve of your nightgown but it only seemed to make things worse.

“(Name), my love, what are you doing here..?” He asked in concern. Liam knew not to be too direct with you and stood up as he spoke to you in a soft voice. “Are you alright, dear?” He asked as he walked towards you. You tried to speak through the tears

“I-..” you coughed quietly to regain your composure “I had.. a bad dream..” you said through sobs.

William wrapped you in his arms, keeping you in his warm embrace. He kissed the top of your head as you pressed your head against his chest. “Would you care to tell me what it was about?” He asked but you shook your head.

“Don’t wanna..” you mumbled into his now wet shirt. He ran a hand through your hair affectionately. He knew you often had nightmares of various things. The nobles you killed would often haunt your dreams, you told him each time it happened. You never told him of your fears of him dying.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? They don’t seem to be this bad usually..I think it would be better to let your worries out..” your husband said to you as he held you closer to him, whispering in your ear as he rubbed shaped on your back with his finger. He then sat you down on a sofa in the study with him while you buried your face in his chest.

“I’ll be fine..” you choked out. You weren’t fine but you had to remain strong, for William, for Louis, for everyone. “Just..” you hesitated, trying to find the right words “promise me that you won’t leave me..? I want to live on with you forever..until we’re only and tried. I want to watch our future grandchildren playing in the garden with you as we sit in our little rocking chairs..so please just..stay.”

William’s eyes widened once more. Had you finally caught onto his suicide mission? He felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn’t say a word but he felt the same way you did. Your husband wanted nothing more than to be able to fulfil that promise, but that wasn’t possible, not in a world like this.

“I’m sorry..” he finally spoke. You let out a quiet sob. That was all you needed to hear. “If there was any other way..I’d choose to spend the rest of my life with you..”

He held you tight. That night you had both fallen asleep in each other’s embrace. There really was no other way around it, was there?

Unless..?

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp william #sherlock holmes

[theinnerunderrain]

Evanscent [Yan!Diluc x Fem!Reader]

Evanescent: soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.

Warnings: Yandere themes, disturbing thoughts, delusions, depression, Diluc being creepy overall. Just a fun little prompt. [English is not my first language warning!]

Word count: 696

-

Diluc felt tired.

While he never particularly regarded himself as an exceedingly outgoing person, he did have a disposition to relish social functions purely for no other justification than to sustain his family's reputation and render his father happy.

Even so, the phrase 'used to' is prevalent. While he possesses a deep sense of love for the beloved city of freedom, he just can't bring himself to care much, in order to retain his courteous demeanour. Diluc became largely undefined since his father's passing, though he never turned to alcoholism to cope with his loss. Still, he even became secluded from his beloved brother, opting to avoid and widen the growing chasm between them. Diluc thought he had managed to lose it all: his beloved father and brother, his aspirations of enlisting in the Knights of Favonius; and once, he even considered abandoning his family's beloved winery.

Until he saw you.

Some may even argue that your beauty was inferior to that of other ladies in Mondstadt. Some might even assert that you were simply an average joe, with really no striking aspects, trying to lecture Diluc just on the humiliation you would bring to the great families of Mondstadt.

But Diluc would beg to differ, even if it's just for a moment. Something about you just glowed. For a brief second, Diluc nearly deceived himself into thinking an angel had been thrown from the Celestial land and was being forced to live among citizens of Mondstadt.

Your hair glistened in the sun, reflecting a brilliant shade of light and instantly blinding him. He noticed how your plump lips fluttered into a grin, accompanied by your eyes, which crinkled into a half crescent moon. Diluc was almost envious of whoever you spoke with, feeling resentful of the fact that they were the most possible culprit of your smile.

You quickly vanished, the crowds of people flooded the streets, and you gradually drowned within the faces of people, your radiating form casted from his eyes.

Throughout the day and into the night, he couldn't stop thinking of you. He even imagined of creating a tangible manifestation of you in his mind, but it was just a desire he could entertain. His suffering persisted; in fact, it seemed to worsen over time, slowly eroding his mind and sapping his flaming energy.

Days, weeks, Months passed by.

But Diluc never mustered the courage to go searching for you, even shutting himself off from the outside world and hounding only at night to maintain surveillance on Mondstadt. He prayed that he would see you in the late hours of the night, having a good laugh to himself at the perplexing wanting, even thinking that he must have contracted some sort of idiocy from lingering around the drunkards at Angel's share.

Diluc was afraid.

Even while Diluc was aware of his aimless attraction, consider that utter infatuation—with you, he was still anxious that it was merely fleeting and would soon fade. He feared that the essence of your soul would over consume him, falter for a split second, then resume taking him towards the depths of the earth. Harbouring the mindset that he would only lose you, just as he had lost everyone else.

Yes, you were like a bubble, a tiny globule that was typically puerile and tenuous. Despite this, they would have a great quality of beauty, always attracting children and wandering beings, displaying vividly in the sunlight. They captivate children with their competency to suspend so freely for even a fraction of a second, and Diluc, too, was enthralled by your heart.

A bubble is ephemeral as it drifts quickly out of sight. Diluc, on the other hand, was adamant about chasing that bubble, even if it meant bursting and reassembling the bubble. He was determined, even if it meant pursuing you in an immoral direction, even if it meant staining his hands with more blood. He was more than ready to do so.

After all, a bubble can only last for so long before they are burst. Therefore Diluc must be sure to keep you from bursting. He can assure that

#diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin diluc #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere diluc #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin au #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc ragnvindr #yandere #genshin imagines #genshin impact

[gayhoediaz]

me throughout my entire life: going out in public and talking to people and interacting takes a lot of energy out of me.

literally everyone including supposed mental health professionals: mhm. because you’re shy and have a lot of social anxiety.

me: uh. no. zero social anxiety actually. not shy. have no issue talking to people it just makes me tired afterwards.

them: mhm. but there must be a rational explanation so it’s because you’re anxious. you must practice.

me: i have practiced my entire life it just created burnout, it’s not gonna change, this is how i work. i could get up on a stage in front of thousands of people and give a speech it wouldn’t make me anxious at all, i’m just tired after.

them: mhm. so you have social anxiety.

———

me throughout my entire life: *is quiet*

literally everyone including supposed mental health professionals: you’re so shy

me: actually no, i just like to listen and reflect on what’s being said, and i like to think things over. whenever i have something to say, i have no issue saying it, i just naturally examine things from every angle and i want to make sure that my words are a valuable contribution to the conversation.

them: shy <3

———

me: yeah so my dad kind of traumatized me, he would gaslight and invalidate my fee-

therapists and psychologists: you’re too sensitive <3

me: …and i’m afraid his new kids will also struggle with-

therapists and psychologists: they’re probably not as sensitive as you don’t place your experiences and emotions onto other people

———

me: i’m depressed

therapist: go to a spa <3

———

me: you make me uncomfortable i’m not ready to talk about this specific assault that just happened to me please don’t push it

psychologist: therapy is difficult <3 it’s okay to be uncomfortable <3

me: okay but i’m uncomfortable with you - like as a person. and i never agreed to this therapy.

psychologist: therapy is difficult <3 it’s okay to be uncomfortable <3

me: i-

psychologist: listen to the only song that brings you any kind of comfort while i stare at you <3 im sure it won’t ruin the song at all <3

———

me for 5 years straight: i feel exhausted all the time i feel like a zombie

psychiatrist: hm lets increase the dosage of this extremely heavy anti depressant

me: i don’t think i was ever depressed i think it was burnout but these meds just don’t make me feel good. i’m still exhausted i can’t get out of bed.

psychologists and psychiatrists: lets increase the meds and also you can’t just rely on medication, sweaty, you have to try also.

me: i am tryi-

psychologists and psychiatrists: no <3 try harder <3

———

me: yeah a few years ago i slowly decreased my anti depressants by myself under the supervision of my family and i feel like i woke up after 5 years in a coma and i am still catching up in life because it was all paused but i feel so much better since quitting therapy because it was just giving me so much extra trauma and frustration with constantly being invalidated and misunderstood. i completely support medication and therapy when it’s necessary but i think it’s harmful to look at professionals as if they’re gods who can’t do anything wrong. i do not, in fact believe that everyone should go to therapy.

everyone:

#this wasn’t supposed to be this long oops #other highlights include the multiple times that one psychologist asked me to tell her all the things i remembered from my assault #and i said i remembered his weight on top of me and she asked if it was a good comforting weight #and she made me close my eyes and recall everything and i was frowning a lot cause i was uncomfortable and not ready at all #and she was like wow i could really see you being there huh #and i wanted to be like no i hate you you make me uncomfortable but she never listened to me anyway so i didn’t

[innerunderrain]

Evanescent [Yan. Diluc x Fem.Reader]

Evanescent: soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing

Warnings: Yandere themes, disturbing thoughts, delusions, depression, Diluc being creepy overall. Just a fun little prompt. [English is not my first language warning!]

Word count: 696

-

Diluc felt tired.

While he never particularly regarded himself as an exceedingly outgoing person, he did have a disposition to relish social functions purely for no other justification than to sustain his family's reputation and render his father happy.

Even so, the phrase 'used to' is prevalent. While he possesses a deep sense of love for the beloved city of freedom, he just can't bring himself to care much, in order to retain his courteous demeanour. Diluc became largely undefined since his father's passing, though he never turned to alcoholism to cope with his loss. Still, he even became secluded from his beloved brother, opting to avoid and widen the growing chasm between them. Diluc thought he had managed to lose it all: his beloved father and brother, his aspirations of enlisting in the Knights of Favonius; and once, he even considered abandoning his family's beloved winery.

Until he saw you.

Some may even argue that your beauty was inferior to that of other ladies in Mondstadt. Some might even assert that you were simply an average joe, with really no striking aspects, trying to lecture Diluc just on the humiliation you would bring to the great families of Mondstadt.

But Diluc would beg to differ, even if it's just for a moment. Something about you just glowed. For a brief second, Diluc nearly deceived himself into thinking an angel had been thrown from the Celestial land and was being forced to live among citizens of Mondstadt.

Your hair glistened in the sun, reflecting a brilliant shade of light and instantly blinding him. He noticed how your plump lips fluttered into a grin, accompanied by your eyes, which crinkled into a half crescent moon. Diluc was almost envious of whoever you spoke with, feeling resentful of the fact that they were the most possible culprit of your smile.

You quickly vanished, the crowds of people flooded the streets, and you gradually drowned within the faces of people, your radiating form casted from his eyes.

Throughout the day and into the night, he couldn't stop thinking of you. He even imagined of creating a tangible manifestation of you in his mind, but it was just a desire he could entertain. His suffering persisted; in fact, it seemed to worsen over time, slowly eroding his mind and sapping his flaming energy.

Days, weeks, Months passed by.

But Diluc never mustered the courage to go searching for you, even shutting himself off from the outside world and hounding only at night to maintain surveillance on Mondstadt. He prayed that he would see you in the late hours of the night, having a good laugh to himself at the perplexing wanting, even thinking that he must have contracted some sort of idiocy from lingering around the drunkards at Angel's share.

Diluc was afraid.

Even while Diluc was aware of his aimless attraction, consider that utter infatuation—with you, he was still anxious that it was merely fleeting and would soon fade. He feared that the essence of your soul would over consume him, falter for a split second, then resume taking him towards the depths of the earth. Harbouring the mindset that he would only lose you, just as he had lost everyone else.

Yes, you were like a bubble, a tiny globule that was typically puerile and tenuous. Despite this, they would have a great quality of beauty, always attracting children and wandering beings, displaying vividly in the sunlight. They captivate children with their competency to suspend so freely for even a fraction of a second, and Diluc, too, was enthralled by your heart.

A bubble is ephemeral as it drifts quickly out of sight. Diluc, on the other hand, was adamant about chasing that bubble, even if it meant bursting and reassembling the bubble. He was determined, even if it meant pursuing you in an immoral direction, even if it meant staining his hands with more blood. He was more than ready to do so.

After all, a bubble can only last for so long before they are burst. Therefore Diluc must be sure to keep you from bursting. He can assure that.

#yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #diluc #yandere diluc #yandere genshin imagines #yandere x reader #genshin impact

[n1k1tty]

012 - we never changed (written!)

the moment jake sent that message about meeting up in the library, you haven’t been able to focus that whole weekend. your mom often looked at you with concern in her eyes whenever you would squeal out of the blue thinking about having to spend some time in the library with your ex boyfriend jake. just like the old times.

“yn what’s up with you lately? every time i pass by, it’s like a rat bit your butt” your mom laughed as you choked on your cereals “okay i cant hold it in anymore! mom, i have jake in my physics class and… he decided to help me out with my grades” your mom snorts, knowing where this is going. she liked jake, a lot. and she was more than depressed when you told her that you and jake were over.

he left a very good impression on your family, heck even your dad was kind of upset that it didn’t work out, he was really going to miss grilling barbecue outside and talking about sports. and your heart utterly broke when your little sister had asked you when could jake come over next, often bringing him up in random conversations not knowing that you and him had broken up.

“im glad he still offers to help you out with physics. jakes a great guy. you should definitely get back-“ you squint your eyes, groaning “mom, no” she pouts “fine,” she takes your bowl away, back facing you as she tilts her head “im just saying, you should give that guy another chance. he makes you really happy, yn, im sure of that”

—

so you’ve thought about it, again, and again, and again. until it was written 4:26am on your clock and you couldn’t sleep at all. this whole study date ordeal had been stuck in your mind as if it was to mock you. you were stressing so hard, your palms sweaty thinking about what could happen in the library after school.

you were scared, more than anything. scared that you would find yourself not being able to let go of jake the moment you experience what it’s like being his lover once again.

because before all this mess had been created, you had found comfort in the study dates jake would force you to go to. and secretly, you found yourself looking forward to it.

—

the whole day you were anxious, not being able to focus on other activities, heck you almost spilled a chemical during a chemistry lab thinking about jake.

and now the time has come. you found yourself intentionally taking your time opening your locker and ‘accidentally’ getting the code wrong. peaking your head through your locker door to see if jake was in your vicinity.

“you’re taking your sweet time aren’t you?” jake chuckles, sending you to jump and hitting your head on the locker door, with him asking if you’re okay right after “shut up, i guess i’m just tired today” you felt yourself breathing heavily, it felt too much to take in.

“i got a blink of sleep” you finally closed your locker, jake following behind you as you nervously walk together to the library “it does seem like it” he jokes, causing you to smack his arm “it’s your fault, jackass”

his giggle that makes your heart swoon no matter how many times you’ve heard it. “how is it my fault? i went to bed at like 3am” jake was aching to wrap his arm around your waist, but he knew it was somehow crossing the line. i guess it was just a force of habit, and he was fully aware of how touchy he got with you, and it saddens him that he couldn’t do those things with you anymore. and it left him thinking, wondering in his own world.

where did things go wrong?

“yeah well i was about to fall asleep until you sent me a message basically THREATENING me to go to the library” he rolls his eyes, opening the door for you, mumbling a small thanks before he continued the conversation “for one, i did not threaten you, i specifically said ‘you’re coming tomorrow whether you like it or not’” he defends himself “sounds like a threat to me” you both laugh

and there was the usual spot, the one close to the window with cushioned chairs and a small potted plant that you both named jeremy. it had grown a whole lot, and somehow how you felt emotional seeing it grow so much without the both of you witnessing it.

it was almost like you got a flashback of all the moments that ever happened in that very spot, and you know jake felt his heart beat just as fast as yours. you both sat, gulping as you awkwardly take out your textbooks and notes “so… which part are you exactly confused about?”

“everything..?” he chuckles, shaking his head with a big grin on his face “i knew it! why did i even bother asking”

and as you get shushed by the librarian over a million times, snickering and doodling on each other’s notes you finally accepted the fact that.

we never changed

next , masterlist , previous

a/n: not proofread btw😔 i wrote this in one sitting bcs i needed to the other chapters LOLZ

SYNOPSIS a couple creates summers filled with so much emotions; happiness, sadness, regret, and jealousy. jake and yn, who were so in love, had suddenly brought the news that you’ve broken up. as the anniversary of the heart wrenching break up awaits, neither of you have really moved on. and your number one supporter, yuna, does everything in her power to mend the broken hearts and create a happy ending for the best couple on the yearbook 2021.

TAGLIST @seungstarss @msxflower @yunki4evr @kolvg @simjakeissohot @kazuhugs @beans-and-jeanes @strwberrydinosaur @iloveoceaneyes @lhsng @heelariously @jwsflower @bigtoewinwin @viagumi @notdrunkbuthazed @ahnneyong @tsubasshi @flower-lise @bennettsprmcy @sophhloaff @sseastar-main

[little-witchys-garden]

So I just got rid of two energy vampires in my life. One was a Damsel vampire and the other was a Narcissist vampire. So I decided on talking about energy vampires and how to know if you have one.

Tw: ab-se

What is an energy vampire:

An energy vampire is a person who feeds off your emotional, mental, physical and psychic energy. Energy vampires generally lack empathy, consideration, lack emotional maturity, are extremely manipulative, cunning and aggressive.

Now I will say don't mistake those that are Neurodivergent that have some of those traits as energy vampires because there's a big difference.

Neurodivergent people often can't help these traits or their mental state causes them to have these traits.

Energy vampires choose these traits and take great joy in using them on their victims.

As a result of interacting with an energy vampire, we might feel chronically fatigued, get sick easier, burnt out, tired, depressed, anxious, irritable or angry and most of all we become more easy to manipulate..

Types of energy vampires:

The Bruiser vampire:

These energy vampires start out kind and sweet slowly wearing you down and taking your energy until you're submissive and that'd when they become physically abusive then they'll turn soft and need self pity until you forgive them. They normally push boundaries and use physical contact when taking energy or breaking you down. They often pick victims with trauma around physical abuse.

The Victim/Martyr Vampire:

Victim/martyr vampire prey off your guilt and empathy. Victims/Martyrs believe that they are “at the mercy” of the world and suffer primarily due to other people seeing themselves as righteous and innocent unable to do wrong,. Instead of taking self-responsibility for their lives, reflecting, or changing themselves Victim/Martyr Vampires continually blame, manipulate, cry, scream, verbally abuse and emotionally blackmail others. They often pick victims with high rates of compassion, high empathy, and trauma around verbal abuse.

The Dominator/Tyrant Vampire:

Dominator/Tyrant Vampires love to feel superior and see others as weak fragile dolls for their breaking, everyone is entertainment too them.

Dominator/Tyrant Vampires love intimidating their victims while making their victims feel

"special" for being " picked" by them.

these Vampires are loud-mouthed, hypersexual, vain, uncaring and have rigid beliefs and black-and-white perceptions of the world. They are often bigoted in some way but present their world view as correct and flawless. These vampire often pick victims that have always been picked last or treated as a third wheel.

The Judgmental Vampire:

the Judgmental Energy Vampire loves to pick on other people, Judgmental Vampires enjoy preying and fueling your insecurities and bolstering their egos by making you feel small, simple minded, helpless, pathetic, or ashamed and needing to be leas by them yet will make you think you're lucky that they're staying with you then brag about anything and everything they see as an accomplishment while mocking and lowering your accomplishments. These vampires go after victims that were ab-sed in childhood and teenhood and will often use that trauma against their victim.

The Melodramatic/theatre Energy Vampire:

These vampires thrives on creating problems, drama, emotional manipulation and they're acting skills... These Vampires also love seeking out crises, traumatized people, because it gives them a reason to feel victimized and broken. They will seek out traumatized people and " trauma steal" which means they'll take parts of others trauma adding them too their own sob story for future manipulation against future victims. They'll add a victim too their friendgroup or life and manipulate the person into anger and paranoia until the person is isolated from others then once the victim is completely isolated the vampire makes a big show creating a story of their victim as an ab-ser in some way so others will gather around them in protection. These vampires normally go after people on the autistic spectrum and emotionally unstable people.

The innocent vampire:

These vampires present themselves as helpess, harmless, vulnerable babies that can do no wrong and have never done anything wrong on their lives, completely flawless but vulnerable keeping a safe haven. You aren't their knight but instead their energy teddy bear. These vampires often times purposefully taking on childish traits when manipulating their victims.

They take every slip up or emotion/thought they don't like from their energy teddy bear as an attack screaming, crying, and having full on break downs until their teddy bear breaks down, goes silent and becomes docile again. These vampires often times go after people that have freshly lost others, have trauma around codependency, or have a savor complex.

The Narcissist Vampire:

A Narcissist Energy Vampire has no capacity to show empathy, compassion, kindness, true love, understanding or genuine interest toward other people. The world revolves around them and as soon as someone puts thst messed up world off kilter then they'll do anything to destroy that person. Narcissist Vampires will use manipulation, false charm, sex appeal, hyper self confidence, flirtatious behavior and a overpowering personality for pulling in their victims but they'll stab you in the back as soon as it fits them. These vampires often times for after young people, those that come from toxic romantic relationships and people that have issues with communication.

The Damsel vampire:

This vampire is a terrifyingly perfect mix of the victim vampire and the theatre vampire BUT they always need you to save them, they cling to their victims crying and sobbing how YOU and only YOU are their savior, you must save them making you because they only trust you, you're " their angel" and

"knight in shining armor".

They make their victims codependent on them unable to leave them under the threat that they'll be helpless and vulnerable without them but as soon as their " knight" is warn down, burnt out and broken they'll stab their knight in the back and go off to find another knight. These vampires often times go after any Neurodivergent people that they can get their hands on.

The jail bird vampire:

This vampire is horrifying mix of the The Narcissist Vampire and the Tyrant/Dominator vampire. They have all the toxic traits of both.. No capacity to show empathy, compassion, kindness, true love, understanding or genuine interest toward other people and love to feel superior and see others as weak fragile dolls for their breaking, everyone is entertainment too them.. But here's where it takes a darker turn they see you as THEIRS, you belong to them and they must " protect", " watch over you", and " keep you safe" this normally means isolating you until you're codependent on them, until they've made successfully made you a bird in their bird cage. These vampires often times go after those that have grown up in toxic or unsafe homes where such behaviors have been groomed into their mind as normal.

So what do you do about them?:

Many will say setting boundaries, going to therapy or protection magick will protect you from energy vampires and sure those totally work but I suggest running. You heard me RUN, DODGE THAT B-LLET! Run as fast as you can! Sure they'll try painting you as the villain or tell lies about you but what matters is that you get away from them as soon as possible because their rumors and lies might be bad BUT the long term damage they'll do too your health is so much worse!!!

Art by twitter.com/OrionTwilight

http://twitter.com/OrionTwilight

#babacore #witchcraft #cottagecore #witch #pagan witch #witchy #witchy things #witchery #witches #witch community #witchblr #witchcore #witchythings #baby witch #paganblr #paganlife #pagan community #spiritual awakening #spiritualpath #spiritualjourney #spirituality #paganism #pagans of tumblr

[darthkitten]

Returning to the Pack- Chapter 1

Summary: Years after the Longbottoms are tortured by Death Eaters, Lupin makes an unexpected detour in St. Mungo's.

St. Mungo's changed. When he was a boy, Remus knew it as a safe, clean space where wizards and witches helped him stave off his canine urges. Wizards and Witches who actually understood him. Wizards and Witches who didn't shrink away from him. It was paradise.

But now, years after the war, everything was darker. The healers looked more tired and forlorn. The patients were anxious and terrified. The atmosphere created by Lord Voldemort had clearly not been lifted, even five years later. He was sad to see the place in such depression.

He was lifted out of his reverie when a witch announced his name over the magical PA system. He got up and went to the reception desk.

"Remus!" the witch shouted happily. He recognised her immediately. It was Ingrid Smith, a Hufflepuff who was a year below him in school. She'd asked him out to Slughorn's Christmas party once, though as fate would have it, the party fell on a full moon. As far as he could remember, she never forgave him for ditching her on that night to sneak off to the Shrieking Shack. Sirius in particular got a kick out of teasing him for it.

Of course, it hurt to think of Sirius now. The Sirius he never really knew.

"Hello, Ingrid, are you doing well?" Remus asked timidly. She chuckled.

"Soft as always aren't we, Remmy?" she said slyly, "Though who knew you were such a spoilsport eh? "

Remus thought he knew where this was going.

"18th of December 1975, I wore my favourite lilac dress and YOU, love, never made it. I drank a whole bottle of Firewhisky with Mary before I could digest the fact that the nicest boy in Gryffindor stood me up."

Remus was blushing furiously. She couldn't know why of course, so he resigned to staying painfully silent.

"But, bygones are bygones as I always say. What are you here for?" she asked.

"I have an appointment with Healer Pincher. She said she had a slot at this time?" he said. Ingrid pawed through her papers.

"Pincher... Pincher... yes she has an appointment with one Remus Lupin in the Dai Llewellyn Ward. The first floor then, Remus."

"Yes, thank you, Ingrid," Remus says as he starts walking to the stairs, but Ingrid piped up.

"Say, Remus, why do you need to see a Healer for Serious Bites?"

Remus pretends not to hear her and climbs the stairs to the first floor. He knew the layout like the back of his hand, and quickly found the ward. He stepped inside and finally felt that familiar sense of safety walking into St. Mungo's. Agatha was talking to a young man in a darker shade of green robes. A trainee, he guessed. She finally noticed Remus and recognition dawned on her wrinkled face.

"REMUS!" she yelled happily as she scooped him into a crushing hug, "It's been years, darling, years. How are you? How's your father?"

"Hello, Agatha. Yes, I'm doing well, and so is dad. We've all weathered through," he said in a tired but happy voice. Agatha Pincher was one of the few people in the world he absolutely trusted with anything.

"I heard about James Potter and Peter Pettigrew too," she said, her eyes watering suddenly, "I'm so sorry Remus. I know they were your friends."

"Thank you, Agatha. I- I appreciate it," Remus replied. He didn't want to continue this topic any further.

"I've come for my yearly checkup. I haven't been feeling well since the last lunar cycle."

"Oh of course dear boy," she says as she sits Remus down and whips her wand out. She mutters a few incantations and sat there, scrunching her forehead and murmuring to herself until she got up to write something on a piece of parchment.

"Smethwyck!" she called to her trainee. The young wizard came up to her, fascination and curiosity burning in his eyes. Remus could clearly see his passion for Healing.

"Meet one of my favourite patients, Hypo. This is Remus Lupin, a werewolf and one of my best friends for the past twenty years."

Hypo Smethwyck was a tall, lanky man in dark green Healer robes and brown boots. He had small, watery eyes which were greatly magnified by thick glasses. His mouth twisted into a smile as he gave out a hand.

"Hippocrates Smethwyck at your service Mr Lupin," he said, a bit pompously. But anyone who shook a werewolf's hand was a good man in Remus' book, so he shook it enthusiastically.

"Hypo joined my ward when you disappeared in '81. What happened anyway? You stopped visiting. We missed you here in St. Mungo's."

He paused. He never liked talking about those years he spent in Ireland, so far away from the rest of the world, so cut off from his family and friends, knowing nothing of the current world since Harry killed Voldemort.

"I've been... busy elsewhere, Agatha," he said in a tone he knew she would understand. A tone which meant the conversation was over.

"Hypo!" Agatha suddenly said, straightening herself and scrunching her face in concentration, "You have a twenty-six-year-old male with lycanthropy from the age of six, whose symptoms outside the full moon have intensified and worsened his mental state, including barking, howling, a taste for raw meat, and scratching oneself repeatedly. How would you diagnose this patient?"

Hypo gave a thoughtful chew of his quill, before writing a few notes down.

"Would he be entering his primal stage, Healer Pincher?" he asked timidly. Agatha grinned widely.

"You will become head of this ward the minute I retire Hypo! That is absolutely correct!"

She turned to Remus, "When a werewolf bite reaches somewhere around twenty years in maturity, The werewolf enters what is known as the Primal Stage, where all of the symptoms of lycanthropy that occur outside of the full moon become stronger and more distinct. You will also find that... that as a werewolf, you will be more intelligent and aware of your surroundings than when you were a child. You will refrain from biting and scratching as much. There is a pamphlet I'll give you which explains the process perfectly. You have nothing to worry about Remus."

Remus sighed in relief. He had been worried that the bite had been altered somehow, and any change to his condition could only be worse.

"Remus... have you heard of the Wolfsbane Potion? It's a new concoction that we've seen dramatically helps werewolves control themselves," Agatha said.

"I have, but it's too complex and the ingredients are far too expensive for me Agatha," he sighed in defeat. It is true that with the Potion, he could live a semi-normal life. But, it was one of the most complex concoctions he'd ever seen, rivalling even Polyjuice Potion. And Potions was always his weak link at school. He was no Snape.

"Mm, and unfortunately the Board of Magical Medicine has not passed its use in St.Mungo's for free I'm afraid. I am truly sorry Remus, I wish I could help," Agatha replied sadly.

"You've helped me live the most normal life I could, Agatha, and for that, I can't repay you enough," Remus said kindly, his eyes glistening, "It was with your advice Dumbledore even let me come to Hogwarts. I would be a beggar were it not for you!"

And, against his better judgement, he pulled Agatha in for a large hug. It had been years since he'd felt someone touch him, care for him like a mother, and look out for him. Agatha warmly hugged him back, her lavender perfume soothing his mind. It was the first happiness he'd experienced in a long, long time.

As he extracted himself, another healer walked into the room.

"Healer Pincher? Healer Jones from the Spell Ward wants some of your Soothing Solution. The Longbottoms have been acting up again, and last time it really helped," the healer told Agatha. Remus had mostly been tuning out this conversation whilst talking to Hypo about werewolf symptoms. However, he caught one of the words.

"Longbottom?" Remus asked the healer, "Alice is here? Did she get hurt?"

The healer looked at him, surprised.

"Well, she's been here for years hasn't he, the poor thing? She and her husband, Frank. I wish we could do something for them, but..." he trailed off dejectedly. Remus was looking around wildly, trying to get an explanation. Alice and Frank have been here for years? Why?

"I'm sorry, Remus, is she a friend of yours?" Agatha asked him tenderly. He didn't speak. Yes, Alice was his friend. Alice had been one of the greatest comforts he had in Hogwarts. Without her, he may not have even made it past his first year.

TO BE CONTINUED

#harry potter #severus snape #neville longbottom #fanfiction #longbottom #alice longbottom #frank longbottom #marauders #moony #wormtail #padfoot #prongs #hogwarts #lily #lily evans #albus dumbledore #dumbledore #mcgonnagal #origin #voldemort #first wizarding war

[dabi-drift]

This is based on my personal experiences with CPTSD, so it might be triggering!

Trigger Warnings: PTSD, CPTSD, Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation.

Geten/Iceman’s S/O Has (C)PTSD:

❅ Are you a victim or a survivor? Time moves forward, but trauma tethers you to the past - to the memories you'd rather forget.

❅ Geten's there for you through all the guilt, the shame, the regret. He's there as you cycle between extremes of emotions. He's there when you're shaking and crying, when you're panicked and in the throes of paranoia.

❅ He's your support as you exchange sleep for anxious vigils, and dreams for nightmares. But out of flashbacks and nightmares, which is worse?

❅ Chronic fatigue is your bane. It syphons your energy. You're too tired to finish your thoughts, too tired to do the most basic of tasks.

❅ Geten has to keep track of dates, of the things you say, and of every new memory you create together. The trauma blocks new memories as fiercely as old ones.

❅ And you only have one foot in reality. Your head's in the clouds, and nothing feels real. If you died right now, would you even notice?

❅ Geten knows all your triggers, and it's his mission to protect you from them. He's quick to rescue you from a triggering situation, sound or person. But society's obsessed with the things that scare you, and there's danger at every turn. He can't shield you from all of it, no matter how hard he tries.

❅ And he can't save you from what's in your head. He can't save you from the hands that claw and taint your skin - the hands you can only feel; reminders of the past.

❅ You feel dirty. So dirty. Why does Geten want you? He could have someone normal, someone who can always be with him in the moment…someone who hasn't been broken. Will he leave you, or will he hurt you too?

❅ Getting you to trust him was difficult, but now you're attached. When fear and disgust drive you from your own bed, you go to his. When your heart starts racing and you're all alone, you go to him.

❅ He calms you, he keeps you safe. From everyone but yourself.

❅ He wishes he could make you better, wishes he could take away the pain. But he can't. He's a temporary salve. He can make you smile, make you laugh through the tears, but only for a moment.

❅ He's angry, but he won't show it. That'd scare you. You shouldn't have to live like this. You should be enjoying life with him - living, not just surviving.

❅ He knows it takes everything you have just to get out of bed, and he's so proud of you. You're trying to take back your life. You're fighting through the trauma. You're so brave, and so very strong.

❅ He doesn't expect you to do anything. Survival, healing…those are your priorities. He'll take care of the rest. He knows you get overwhelmed by a single task. He knows you feel guilty. But you don't have to. He loves you. He'll do anything for you.

❅ If he can help your recovery, then he will. If not, he'll wait for you. For as long as it takes. He'll be there when you need him.

#ptsd #cptsd #geten x reader #mha geten #geten #bnha geten #league of villains #mla #mha x reader #bnha x reader

[anonniemousefics]

Dear Nonnie!

Being in my thirties, I am constantly tired, depressed, overworked and running on coffee and a strong desire to live another day because in the end of it I can finally go to sleep (to be woken a few too many times by a wee baby). Which is probably how all adults live. All that being said, my head is full of ideas, characters, scenes from the books and stupid shit like that. I am bot a writer, I actually love to paint. How do I find time and enough will to do something about that instead of just lie there on the bed at my free moments? How fanfic writers find the time to write all that awesome staff?

Please share advice and wisdom,

Your anonymous admirer, still alive.

PS. That scene in the prison cell in Fjorda between separated Inej and Kaz was hot as hell. Loved it. As all your others fics, obviously.

Dear Still Alive,

I love you! I AM you! Well, except for one key difference, which is that my baby is not so wee anymore. He’s in school now, which is a game-changer, trust me. Getting enough sleep at night just isn’t a thing I have to stress about anymore – and someday, that will be you again, too. It’s true! I know people like to tease parents and say, like, “Haha you’ll never sleep again,” but I promise they’re full of shit! You will have long, luxurious sleeps again, and when you do, I think you’ll find you have the capacity to do so much more than you are able to now.

So, first thing’s first: cut yourself some slack and give yourself some love. You should rest when you need to rest. The fact that you want to lie in bed today is not failure or poor time management. It’s very possible that you’re lying there on the bed because you NEED to lie there on the bed. You’re doing so much already!! The urge to lie down is a very real physical response to the super chaotic world we have to navigate, made all the more exhausting when you have small children, and it’s just as deserving of attention as hunger or thirst or any other physical need.

In fact, you’re not just allowed to rest, you’re encouraged to rest – that’s actually a vital part of the creative process! I have exactly zero ideas when I’m pushing myself and anxious and stressing myself out. Literally all of my ideas waltz in when I’m having a long shower, or I’m driving somewhere and I’ve got nothing better to do with my mind, or I’m trying to grab another fifteen minutes of shut-eye before the alarm goes off. None of the magic happens when I’m spread thin and I’m forcing myself to cram in 30 minutes of writing because I told myself I had to or I’ll never make it as a writer (which, believe me, I’ve tried this route and it’s nothing but pain and suffering all the way down. 0/10 stars, would not recommend).

So, here’s the switch I made for myself to help me to start to create again, and maybe you’ll find it useful, too. But be warned: it’s not a quick fix, and it’s actually taken a couple years of therapy to get here. Anyway, it’s this: I made a conscious decision to stop guilting myself and instead to trust myself. When I want to use my free time to rest, I rest. When I want to use my free time to read a bunch of fic or just scroll through Instagram reels, that’s what I do. I trust that my body’s giving me that urge for a reason, just like it does with hunger or thirst, and I try to pay attention to when it stops feeling like rest or fun. Because none of those things are inherently bad, you know? Do them. Enjoy them. We need them. Don’t guilt yourself over them – just try to notice when your brain makes the switch to “that’s enough.”

And then, after I did this for a while, something started to happen. As my nervous system got used to having its needs met – and I’m talking not just the basic ones like food and shelter, but like rest and connection and freedom from shame etc. – then I started to have more energy. I started to need less time to lie down. I started to have ideas again, and I started to want to do something with them, and not just in like a wistful “I hope to do this someday” kind of way, but in like a “This is what I’m going to do now and here’s when I will do it” kind of way. And it started little! It started so little, I cannot stress this enough! If the inspiration hits you to sketch a little scene on a napkin, that is still art!!! You are still an artist, and you practiced art in that moment, and you practiced it joyfully and authentically and you should celebrate that!!! Even, and maybe especially, if it doesn’t look exactly the way you pictured it in your mind (because chances are it never will). And then do it again!!! It’s like a muscle, and it will grow a little stronger every time you do.

And then here’s the other amazing thing that will happen, if you start practice art this way – just like how after you’ve stuck with a workout plan for awhile, you start to feel more energized after a good workout, the same thing start to happen when you’re able to create art authentically, joyfully, and without guilt. It becomes a form of self-care. And I can’t speak for all fanfic writers, but this is entirely why I do it. I work in moments to do it (a thing which is a hell of a lot easier to do now that my kid is in school), because when I do, I actually have more energy now, having gone through this growth process. A lot of the time (not all of the time, but a lot of the time) I actually feel more like myself than I would have if I’d spent time doing something else. It becomes its own reward – but before that can happen, it has to be treated like a reward, you feel me? And that means no guilt when you don’t have time or energy for it and lots of grace for yourself when you make mistakes and it doesn’t look the way you wanted it to.

So, I wish I could offer you like the perfect time management spreadsheet or like access to the secret nanny-swap service we all use (I wish), but, for better or for worse, it’s been my experience that the time and the will to do creative stuff comes with rest and a lot of self love and acceptance. And a kid that sleeps through the night. Sorry about that part. That part just comes with time.

Wishing you lots of coffee and peaceful nights.

Much love,

Nonnie

P.S. - I may or may not be working on a sequel to that one. (I am. It’s just taking awhile.)

#dear nonnie #living out my fantasy of being an underqualified advice columnist #anon asks #ask box #fanfiction stuff #art stuff #work life balance and other impossible things

[ittybittybumblebee]

If im being completely honest the 2nd reason why i feel this intense need to create constantly other than being passionate about making stuff is also if im not constantly doing something with my hands i have a tendency to get depressed or extra anxious about things.. so when im too tired or spent to create anything i find i happen to get this looming feeling of uselessness come over me bc im so used to being busy and it feels so stupid because i do want to do things, but i dont feel like doing things and in the state of not doing something or trying to rest even, i feel uncomfortable

#it especially sucks when u have no motivation #i am stuck!! #i am so bored if im not dping something i want to rip my own skin off i need to exist in motion i cant be stagnant i need to make things #i have so many hobbies surrounding the action of creating something and this is why #i would prefer if i had the luxury of being content by creating slightly less often but more quality work #i dont have the attention span to work long on somwthign unless i have a reason to obsess over it #but like i do these quick little drawings all the time #but i wish i made more finished things #excuse my rambling !! i do it too often ignore me

[armeleia]

Thank you very much for your anxious/depressed creators post. I have a question about burnout: does constantly thinking about what you want to create but not creating count as “rest”? I haven’t found the time to draw or write for many weeks, but I do think about my ideas a lot because I really want to get to them. But, when I do finally snatch a little time for myself I suddenly have zero interest in actually doing the thing. I’ve been thinking maybe I’m just tired from work but maybe it’s something else too…? Thank you!

If thinking about what you want to create makes you feel happy or excited, I think it's great that you're thinking and planning! If it makes you feel guilty or stressed - or if it's just an opportunity to beat yourself up for what you're not doing - it is probably not productive.

Being worn out sucks. If you don't feel like creating anything, it's okay to do something that has less pressure. I've been dealing with burnout since lockdown, and the ability to create comes and goes. It's really frustrating. Sometimes I can't do anything at all, and sometimes the projects I work on aren't the big, magical ideas I have. Sometimes it's just something that seems fun. Sometimes it's also just a matter of getting started and rebuilding the habit of working on things - next time, you could always try pushing through to work a little on your project. If it doesn't feel good, do something else. If you find that you are enjoying it, keep going. :)

I hope your life settles a little for you!

[petite-ursus]

Some updates on the pmdd birth control stuff...

I bled for almost a solid month, over April, and had a lot of nausea. That has mostly leveled out.

I still experience mood swings, but to a much lesser degree. I think. It is very weird/disorienting to not have a regular bleed to let me know where I am in my “cycle.” Just something I didn’t anticipate for tracking my moods and if they’re “normal.” There’s definitely something worse about not knowing when or if these feelings are going to end. Like. Knowing the bleeding was going to stop the suicidal ideation was frustrating because fuck this body that feels this way every luteal phase. But at least that was a clear schedule. A clear end. When I could think of it. Now.... I don’t know.

Obviously there are habits and mentalities I’ve built over the years, surrounding my period related mood swings  (if that’s what these are. aaaaaaah.) Things I have to unlearn and work on healthier responses now that I’m (allegedly) not being emotionally waterboarded every month... Like, I’m feeling very sad/stressed/a little sui-slide-al this week. But is that from technically being in my luteal phase or is this an environment issue? Because it really could be. Never discount the advice “Am I crazy, or am I surrounded by ass holes.”

I’m not sure. Is this helping or am I just hoping really hard that it is, and that’s been carrying me through the last two months and now all of those issues are still actually present and not about the environment. That would mean it isn’t pmdd at all? ... I don’t know.

And it’s never ever just one thing. Like, I absolutely have anxiety, to the extent that my therapist once said (in congratulatory way) that I don’t have depression, I’m just so anxious it makes me depressed. I also was diagnosed with adhd when I was a teen, but we didn’t really do anything about it. That has its own symptoms. Pile pmdd on top of that (and the gyno truly believes it is pmdd) and if the birth control is only supposed to reduce those symptoms, not make them go away entirely... yeah, I’d still be symptomatic. There’s also some suspicion that I may also be on the spectrum, which I don’t post about a lot because *shrug* but if that’s the case, having meltdowns from being overstimulated (which anxiety, adhd, and pmdd all do as well) would mean I would still feel... like... this... even with the birth control.

And I’m so tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired of getting no empathy because I’m so good at handling everything until I’m not. I’m so tired of living in this body that is full of trauma because I was young, kind, and pretty and folks took took took without any regard for the fact that I was a person. And they still do. And that’s its own environmental thing, not something inside of me. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I hate this body. I hate living in it. I miss being consistent at the box so at least it was strong. Now I can’t get back into the habit and it just makes me feel worse.There are so many ways that I am a better person than when I was a young adult. Calmer, steadier... but what does that matter when my past means I’m also eternally overwhelmed and I just. I want to be able to stop. And there’s no stop. No one is coming. What does it matter that I’ve grown if the thing that created that growth burned my roots and made me shoot up too fast and now I’m stilted, straining towards the sun on a stalk that is too thin? What does any of it matter if every year I just slip further away. (Sorry, this is the sui-slide-al thought process that loops, it slipped its way into here.)

My boobs got bigger, and I’ve lost some water weight. So there’s that. I guess. Hormonal acne seems like it’s the same.

#pmdd #personal #yaz

[adhd-creativity]

Sobriety Journal: Day 2

I have slipped in my sobriety journey the last month or two. I've not been weekend binge drinking (which is why I stopped before, I've never been a daily drinker) but I have been having 1-3 drinks in most social situations. I thought this might be my happiest state; just indulging a little every now and then. Leaving parties early! Still having time for myself!

But, nope. I feel possibly more miserable than I did when I was partying every weekend. I'm at work today and I feel sluggish and like everything is too much and upsetting me. My tummy feels bloated and my eyes look like angry little beads in my head. I literally can't wait to go home and lie in bed and do nothing. And this is all because of two drinks I had on Saturday night.

I think that while I was regularly binging, I was so hungover most of the time ( did you know it can take 10 days for alcohol to leave your system??) that this tired state became my normal. By the time I felt better it was time to go and out and party again.

Now I know. I know that my life can be such much better. I stopped completely for a few months and I was making art regularly, making shakey starts at writing, reading, doing yoga. I was also going on nights out. I actually think part of the reason I started drinking again was because I was feeling worried that I wasn't enjoying myself on (most) nights out....It wasn't even nervousness, it was boredom. I started poisoning myself for boredom!

If something is boring, if I find certain people boring, maybe I shouldn't be doing those things or talking to those people. The answer isn't to number myself out to enjoy it....especially as that only works for a bit before making me feel super sensitive and depressed.

Adhd and alcohol do not mix. I spent yesterday low key anxious and unhappy all day. I lay in bed for the whole sunny day and felt worried about wasting my life, felt exhausted for no reason, planned creative ideas but didn't even journal, got frozen and didn't eat or drink anything until I was hungry enough to get a takeaway. Then the takeaway gave me a stomach ache lol. Is that fun? Am I living my best life?

Even though I know this all makes sense, and I've read a load of books on sobriety, and no longer even really get pleasure from alcohol (I get about 10 minutes maybe before my mood drops)..... when it comes to a social situation and alcohol is offered/present, I take it. It's like whatever willpower or reason I have goes out the window. I don't even question myself- in fact I deliberately don't question myself.

Fuck alcohol. Fuck the social conditioning that surrounds it, the generational alcoholism I have been born into, the lack of education/ willful holding back of information from advertising and the government. Fuck fighting a battle against what is seen as normal and not harmful when it is anything but. My friends dad died of alcoholism yet she continues to drink heavily herself and sees no issue with it. My own mother argued with me that it was healthier for me to drink wine at Christmas instead of drink juice.

Anyway I have decided journal here about my sobriety- I thought about starting a separate blog but I feel that journalling is just another way for me to create and heal myself. I think my creativity, my adhd and my alcohol use are all linked to each other.

I know I can get back to the creative and happy place I was in just a couple of months ago. I just have to give up alcohol to have everything- instead of giving up everything for alcohol.

#sobriety #sobercurious #sobermovement #soberissexy #sober #alcohol free #alcohol #substance addiction #addiction #sobriety journal #my journal #journal #soberaf #living sober #alcohol addiction #growth #inner work #adhd #adhd women #adhd artist #adhd experience