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mostlymk11trash-blog · 5 years

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Their S/o was mentally and physically abused

Of course, If this triggers you, please don't read. If you are in an abusive relationship please get the help you need.

This came out so much shitter than I wanted too im sorry 😕

Request for @baby-queen-girl

Okay so I only did 9 out of the 21 mk characters I write for. Some of these are short.

Kung Lao -

Your past wasn't something either Kung Lao or you spoke of very much he knew you've endured a lot of trauma such as him, but the burn scars that were on your right arm always concerned him, who could ever do such a thing to you? As Kung Lao questioned the scars you hung your head low telling him about your ex how he'd drink like a fish hardly came home from the bar once he did if one thing was dirty, out of place or dinner wasn't made a cigarette would be put out against your skin. Kung Lao was mortified hearing this rage filing his body his finger traced a scar near your collar bone, he needed to avenge you that night as you slept soundly beside him Kung Lao tried his best to find your ex with no luck he came back to the shared home hours later to see you waiting on the couch.

Raiden-

He was unfamiliar with the whole photo album thing but Raiden still sat there as you showed old childhood photos when you graduated from high school and college the smile on your face made it all worth it to him until the smile dropped, the photo was your wedding photo the forced smile on your face as you stood next to an unfamiliar man who held your waist tightly with one arm the other held onto a large bottle of liquor Raiden knew he was evil just the way he held and looked at you with such rage. The unexpected slam of the book made the god jump you apologized for him seeing the photo saying it was the worst 4 years of your life Raiden listened as you vented about the mental abuse your ex put you through, Your hand tightly gripping Raiden's he told you to worry about nothing of that sorts anymore placing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Kano-

Dating Kano meant useless fights over nothing but this one took the cake screaming throwing things, as he approached you trying to apologize for being an asshole sudden wave of fear ran through your veins memories smacking you in the face of your ex slamming you against the wall his hands around your throat tears flooded your vision as you stuttered out for him to not hurt you. Kano just stood there for a moment unsure of what to say gathering you in his arms sitting you on the couch he told you how he'd never hurt you.

(That sucked but The better one got deleted, Errons and Kuai Liang along with Kano's didn't save so I'm trying to write them like i did but they shitty

:( sorry)

Erron Black-

You never hid that your ex used to do horrible things to you, it was pointless to hide things from Erron he held his tongue as you told him your past he was angry you were the sweetest gal he knew. He tracked down that ex of yours placing a bullet through his skull making sure to bring back a bloody shell going home meant you'd be happy but he knew you'd be happier hearing the news of that shitty man's death, giving you a tight hug and a loving kiss placing the bloody bullet in your hand.

Kuai Liang -

Kuai Liang loved to treat you with a date night every once in a while letting you both escape the troubles of the Lin Kuei for a few hours but tonight's lovely dinner was ruined by your drunken ex slurring insults at you both before you could calm Kaui he was already on top of your ex beating him until he was begging at your feet to make him stop, Kaui apologized for ruining the night but he couldn't help but wondered who this man was that as he asked you explained as just an ex who was an asshole he loved to insult you before you could stop telling Kaui he was back grabbing your ex making him give you an apology. What a goof.

Hanzo Hasashi-

Sonya had told Hanzo about your past before you had the chance too, how you were locked inside for almost two years before you tried to escape you'd gotten miles from that horrible place before he caught you again slicing you from naval to tailbone leaving you for dead thankfully Sonya found you, Hanzo was infuriated how someone could call themselves a man yet do heinous things to a woman he wanted the name of that human garbage when he told you he knew about everything you broke down in his arms telling him that you didn't want him to know your past it made you feel weak. He held you close trying to calm you down telling you that your past made you into the strong woman you are now, kissing your forehead whispering how much he loved you.

Kenshi-

He often got home later than you as you worked a 9 to 5 while he was off killing monsters, Kenshi hardly entered your mind without consent but you were having a horrible nightmare thrashing crying in your sleep as he tapped into your mind a unfamiliar voice echoed you deserve this almost driving him mad Kenshi left your mind waking you up holding you to his bare chest.

Kabal-

(Not Dating)

He never understood why you were in the black dragon such a sweet kind hearted girl stuck with this clan you befriended him quickly he was shocked at you not gagging at the sight of his burnt self, that friendship lasted until your boyfriend came from his mission you seemed to disappear into your room once you left makeup was applied to your face body covered with baggy clothes hardly ever speaking to anybody. Kabal knocked on your door only hearing yelling back and forth between your boyfriend and you until he heard a loud bang against the wall kicking open the door you were against the wall face so bruised he could hardly recognize you that assholes hands around your neck one swift move with his hook sword the boyfriends head was on the ground.

Johnny Cage-

You'd never expect to be on a date with Johnny Cage none the less drunk on the couch with him both pouring out your hearts about mental abuse his from his father yours from an ex, you held him as he cried about his family he held you why you cried about your ex overall a good date until the morning you were beyond hungover while he was cooking breakfast acting like he never even drank. Once you both started talking about what happened last night he tried to tell you it got better after years but giving you his number if you ever needed to talk about it.

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concept22 · 5 years

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Today I got a bipolar diagnosis

edit: btw, nobody was injured when i crashed. it was into a light post and nobody was around.

There is confetti everywhere around my room. And I am confused why there is such a mess and why it’s so pretty to me and also why despite seeing beauty in the mess I feel uncomfortable with my space having little shit all over it and I want it to be clean. Today shit hit the fan and the shit was a balloon and when it hit the fan it erupted and confetti flew everywhere. I got a bipolar diagnosis today. After nearly 10 years of clinical diagnoses from major depression, generalized anxiety, ocd tendency, mania, psychosis, to a literal thought disorder called delusional disorder, as well as PTSD, today I heard something that felt like it contains all of me and there is room for me to be me and not feel so confused and like my identity is all over the place depending which disorder is showing it’s face most. I am Cassidy Jean Gardner, and I am bipolar with PTSD. I feel terrified and so confused and Im crying while I write this but the tears feel like a relief a sweet rush of acceptance from and for myself that I have been yearning for for a long, long time. My therapist believes I have mixed manic-depressive bipolar called cyclothymic bipolar, not to be confused with a less “emotionally intense” cyclothymia diagnosis. With my understanding so far, I understand that Bipolar 1 is characterized by more manic tendencies with depressive stints. Bipolar 2 is characterized by more depressive tendencies with hypomanic bursts. The difference between these types of bipolar and the one have been experiencing the spectrum of for the last 2 and a half years years for sure is that BP 1&2 symptoms of mania or depression last several days, weeks, or months. Cyclothymic bipolar experiences of mania and depression can last hours. I have been so confused by my own mind for so long, and like my emotional responses to things were never valid, true, natural, and in my manic times, not even human. I can go from being manic to then coming across something that doesn’t fit my manic ideology and having an extremely depressed, hopeless response, to, sometimes it feels like minutes later, come up with a new “solution” that helps me feel better and relieved of the shame i feel about my manic beliefs and world view that I go right back up there again, and the cycle repeats. Thinking myself in and out of mania it can feel like. The days when I am not crippled or at best, so far, consistently hindered, by the accompanying anxiety of not having much of a sense of emotional normalcy or “neutral” perspective on things are my best days. The days when I am hypomanic, and I decide to scrap everything I’ve been working toward and stop identifying with these things in the name of authenticity libration and creativity, are my favorite right now, and that is hard. because it’s not super helpful to be this way- so passionate and “righteous”- that i throw out the window regard for any sort of routine i have worked hard to establish myself in the name of having “figured out something better”. It’a hard to feel so happy I can’t listen to my rational self because I feel so intoxicated by the feeling of happiness motivation and productivity I so crave. I am not sure what is harder. Being so manic that I become psychotic, completely delusional to the point that I literally believe I am Satan or Lucifer herself and that everything around me is confirming this horrible burden yet somehow “karmic blessing” that I never asked for, the the times when my depression is so bad I sleep for 16 hours of the day, have no motivation to even fathom life becoming better ever, and prefer to dream than live waking, walking life. I have lived in ambivalence for years, and as a coping mechanism I convinced myself I thrived in this arena. I see myself in front of the pendulum that is my mind. Every day it swings and I try to control it. It doesn’t stop swinging. It swings so roughly and rapidly that it flys out of the bars holding it up often. It’s like there is a wind pushing it that is the devil itself tricking me by being “invisible” aka not existing. When it’s on the manic side, I try to grab it and in the process get picked up off the ground and everything around the pendulum gets knocked over in my efforts to hold the pendulum and keep it on the “happy” side. Like the things around me are my life that I’ve built and they will fall as easily as bowling pins. There is no weight to keep them stable when I hit them. The foundation is slippery. On the depressive side, I rush over angry that I wasn’t strong enough to hold things on the manic side and desperately try to push it back toward my “happy” side, but it is so so fucking heavy. and I don’t remember it being that heavy and I cannot believe I ever fathomed loving the pendulum I was clinging to sometimes minutes earlier. Shame guilt self loathing. compared to my visions of grandiosity, of the world revolving around me, of having a sense of self worth and confidence and the courage to claim it and say hey i deserve to feel good about myself. to god how dare I ever think that. I am the most selfish person on the planet the sheer vain and foolishness to believe everything even anything really could possible be about or for me. I like to believe that I am somewhere in the middle. I prefer the hypomanic side, and this is a detriment as well, because i can easily get too high. but the hypomanic can be so... fun. The bits of excessive energy, the slightly inflated sense of self worth, the belief that I can follow my dreams and the ability to use my mind to direct my thoughts toward ways to create strategy to get where I want and build stepping stones. The fear of fallibility. the anxiety that comes with ever feeling good about myself from the ptsd of that abusive relationship and that night especially. I shouldn’t plan, because they will be foiled, if not by me by a man most likely. nowhere is safe, especially not my own mind. thats’s where I perceived love, and oh hasn’t god shown me how powerful that is. being so manic that I confuse the feeling with someone being my soulmate, twin flame, my destiny. telling that person and responding to the rejection emotionally by going psychotic and fully delusional. How afraid I have been to love, of my own love, being truly loved that i don’t feel the need to constantly prove myself, and certainly the idea of ever loving myself for being who I am. In 2016 when I got PTSD and no longer was the “high functioning” “mentally ill” girl I was before, many people treated me like I had fallen from grace and it was my fault. Thank fucking god for the people who have been here for me. So many people took this as an opportunity it felt to slander me. “ha, I knew she wasn’t so wonderful, look how crazy she is. She intentionally crashed her car. who does that?” a person who is so confused with their undiagnosed bipolar and the fact they are going through a manic episode as a response to intense trauma therapy does that. I was told my whole life I was wonderful for being pretty and intelligent, and what a special combination. what a bitch of a “gift”. The two things I was naturally both with and did not earn, my intelligence and my body and my face. What about my humor? What about my ability to be a good friend? What about how hard I work? I was told I should never dare praise myself for these things because I was already “lucky enough” to be praised for the things I never asked for but was given by either genetics or fate- god knows. I have so many feelings. and I’m so grateful to know that I am impulsive. Sure, I’m “spiritually gifted”, but not necessarily everything has to be a blaring call from god or synchronicity that I must act on immediately if I want to see the “right things”, see the world the “right way”, and “be where I am to be”. My perfectionism has nearly killed me. Seeking to be spiritually perfect because I sure has hell was not physically or mentally perfect, I mean, look at those guys and girls more “beautiful”, look at those men and women more “accomplished”. And the brainwashed peers (not their fault) for idolizing me, giving me a sense of power I never fucking sought. Sure. Maybe you can make the argument that my “soul wanted this”, but suffering was never in the deal. and I have suffered. I have been so miserable I didn’t even know how to fathom the energy to put together a plan to kill myself. and thank god for that level of depression, because I didn’t die. because I’m supposed to be here and finally I feel I can make some peace with my singular identity as Me, Cassie. someone who is fun, funny, smart, relatable, bipolar, and so much more. I feel terrified of stigmatization even though I know it’s fucked up that it even exists. At least, I think, with the delusional disorder diagnosis, even though it was similar to a schizophrenic diagnosis just lacking frequency of symptoms, hardly anybody knew what it was. Oh I have a thought disorder and the propensity to think in delusional ways sometimes. NBD tho as u can see I’m perfectly fine :). So many more people know about bipolar. And many have strong opinions. The plus here is that there is more push to end stigmatization and more research into ways to cope manage and accept this diagnosis which I am so thankful for, and more easily accessible community. There was nothing on delusional disorder. It was so uncommon that when my psychiatrist in the rehab told my therapist what my diagnosis was she handed me the DSM to read about it because she didn’t know what it was. Yeah, I went to rehab. Last november (2017) I had a psychotic break, though it was not my first experience with delusion. I became manic as a response to feeling rejected by a guy and it escalated to me hardly sleeping, doing a lot of cocaine and other drugs, and having a full blown psychotic break. I experienced psychosis for 2 and a half months. The first 3 weeks of this stint it was all i could feel or think about. At first it was fun, until it wasn’t. I legitimately thought that there was a secret society the illuminati that had been made to “illuminate” me, that all art had been inspired by me, the energetic muse, lucifer “finally reincarnating” back to earth in the age of aquarius and dawn of immortality, and nobody around me was safe because I was all that was valued by this illuminati and the people who I loved most were in danger because while I loved them most and the illuminati knew this, the illuminati was angry that these people has hurt me, someone who was so impressionable, “born schizophrenic and able to hide it in order to learn about ‘normal society’”, and were responsible for the pain I felt which I handled with negative coping mechanisms like addiction. So it was my job to create worldly and spiritual circumstances to keep them safe from disaster and accident or murder because they all felt so bad about hurting me subconsciously that they had less of a will to live, and this was a dangerous way to think, subconsciously of course. That I was everyone’s higher self in the 4d’s favorite 3d person other than their person, and that they all were working to send me messages from the consciously unaware around me. I was fully out too my mind. I legitimately thought I was lucifer, the most hated person on the planet but god’s favorite angel, ready to ask for entry back into heaven. And the only thing that was me was my fear response to my thoughts and the way I read into everything. no I can’t dare think this this can’t dare be true but somehow everything around me is telling me it is. Literally fuck this. I felt that I needed to be with loved ones constantly to “keep them safe” and I understandably was simultaneously scaring the shit out of my family due to my mental health, and exhausting them. my mom and I both agreed the best thing was for me to go into a treatment center, the rose house. A “dual-diagnosis” rehab that treated mental health and addiction. Cool, well when I got there apparently every single reason I had mental health problems was because I had used substances, not because I had struggled with my mental health since becoming conscious in light of my father passing when i was almost 9 and eventually found drugs as a coping mechanism. I felt shamed for my addiction to marijuana and 100% misunderstood and ostracized. out of the 15 women there all of the girls my age were in primarily for addiction and the only woman who was there for first mental health was an older woman named Kathleen, and she wasn’t an addict. The delusions never stopped I got better at hiding them. I was heavily medicated, afraid, fearing homelessness if i didn’t follow my family wishes to finish the 90 day program, and still pretty insane. After I got my diagnosis I left the treatment the night I got onto “transition” 67 days in and got my phone back, called a friend, and got brought up to fort collins where thank god emma was willing to let me stay with her. Miraculously, the delusions stopped within days. I was no longer so stressed and afraid that I couldn’t think for myself. I was bipolar this entire time. and my mania was “so irrational and unrecognizable” that they didn’t even know to recognize that this was my issue, it was more like I was “almost schizophrenic” without the visual hallucinations or auditory hallucinations. I wasn’t hearing other voices, but the voice in my head wanted me dead just as much as it told me I had a special reason to stay alive. I had a “sane reaction to insane circumstances”, and I temporally lost my mind. and I was petrified and anxiety ridden to the point I couldn’t function for months. I couldn’t make a single decision for weeks without going into full blown panic. I felt like everyone knew something that I didn’t and that they couldn’t tell me what I thought I knew, just give me hints, because otherwise they could be punished and also because they “believed in me”. I felt horribly betrayed while simultaneously fearing abandonment and isolation so much I felt I had developed Stockholm syndrome.

When I experienced full blown psychosis that was so scary, my whole life went to shit. I lost my scholarships. I lost my house in boulder so my family could afford rehab. everything changed while I was in panic and when I “returned” to a “normal” state of mind I couldn’t recognize anything in my own life, even myself. When I was on medication I gained 70 pounds in 2 and a half months. I went into rehab 95 pounds. I was so manic for months, either full blown or hypo, that I would forget to eat. And I was 165 when I left. I hated my life and the months following I was more depressed than I can ever remembered. I relapsed in april. april to september was a mix of drugs and romance that I don’t really care for. When I got sober again, prompted by a really scary night of returning to psychotic thinking which I thankfully learned reality checking skills for, I feel like after 4 almost 5 years of using drugs I was finally ready to stop feeling so out of control, at least with my substance use. Thank god for today, no matter how afraid i am of my future. I am just as hopeful. I have for hate myself for the ways I have treated people in my manic episodes, my family in my depressive episodes, and how I can hardly even remember it. but I do not deserve to feel this hate. I was suffering. I was living in a world I hadn’t found the words to describe. and now I know. That I am beautiful. truly. inside and out. and I have a beautiful mind. I love fiercely. I believe I can make a contribution to help “save the world”. That those who are mentally ill should be hugged tightly when they need it, that schizophrenic people especially, imo, are horribly and unfairly understood and deserve to feel cherished and accepted just as much as anyone else, not to be feared and casted out of society. I believe every single person no matter what deserves to know they are not alone, no matter how lonely they feel, and so much more good. I am not the ugly or the bad. I am a motherfucking survivor. And thank god I didn’t die the day I re-enacted my dad’s car accident. Because I do have a purpose, and it is special. Most importantly, it’s just as special as everyone else’s special purpose. We are all in this together. And I’m excited to find a community of people who have fought similar battles. Who I can laugh about my “a trillion under the sun” delusions with and find humor in the ways my mind sought to preserve a will to live. and how other people have done the same. I am me, and today I became free of my own condemnation. I will struggle, but now I know there is community and resources that I don’t need to scour the earth to find. I have a home, and it is here, proud to be me. There is confetti everywhere around my room. Who knew that balloon I had been so afraid of letting go of was my own attempt to celebrate myself. I may feel late to my own party, but I’m here now. And there is no problem with not wanting my room to always look like a wild rave. I can always make more confetti, anyways :)

To end with some gratitude, thank god for my true friends and my family. Emma has never left my side as my best friend, even in the distance of living in different parts of the state. She is my best fucking friend. My other close best friends as well, who have not been afraid to hug me when I swore to them my entire body was covered in needles. My mom, who has done everything for me to make sure I know I am never truly alone, no matter how much my mind tries to tell me otherwise. For my little brother, for putting up with my craziness and still being willing to love me and laugh with me at the end of the day. Everyone in my life now is so beautiful it’s hard to deny that there may be some beauty in me, too, then, if they all tell me they like when I’m around. I’m grateful to know that my father, who i have idolized though gone now, was whole loved by the people around me. Whose described as “large than life” personality and substance abuse may have been a way to mask bipolar symptoms, was still a loved personality and loved person. This I know. This people have convinced me. and that I am of him just as much as I am of my mother. I’m grateful for the mental health professionals who have not given up on me, even when they required i be medicated in order to be able to be worked with, even when i was misdiagnosed, these people have helped to save my life too. so many times. And I am so grateful for my higher power, for prayer, the only thing that felt safe to think that sometimes I would just repeat the serenity prayer for hours for the sake of at least having a way to direct my anxious energy and not be in panic from my own delusional thoughts. God, who has always shown me that i will never be truly abandoned or given up on, who has helped me understand my higher power as something that is absolutely not punitive. My family and friends have been my lifeboats, and god, the universe, gaia, the god in every person, has shown me how to survive the storm. I am. I desire. I see. and i am free.

This has been such a clusterfuck of emotions coming out that I have been wanting to feel for a long time and as messy as this is i’m grateful as well for the will to sit through this and write about these experiences, no matter the feelings they bring up. Because know I feel free to understand that the feelings will pass, sometimes more quickly than others, and that I can always survive. Even when that’s all I “manage” to do. Today. I stayed sober. I laughed. I put up the christmas tree with my mom and brother. I talked on the phone with my best friend. I told close friends what I learned about myself today. and I got diagnosed with bipolar. and I found a hope and interpretation for my mental narrative that I never felt was right for me because i don’t understand the words for what i was experiencing. I have learned today. And I have grown. and I am smiling as i finish typing this with tears rolling down my face, because I believe I can be happy. Sustainably happy. and sustainably grateful and hopeful when it’s hard to get to feeling the happiness. I believe and I survive. and I become<3 I am 21. I am brilliant. and I am bipolar.

#bipolar #personal #off my chest #very personal #text

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strmgrl-blog · 6 years

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my name’s saturn & this is my meme shop ! aaaaah no, really though bonjour angels ! for a lil introduction for myself let me just get this out of the way GIFJDKL uhhh i love aoa, day6 & sm artists ( like .. all of them Help ). a traumatized bitch who loves suffering so i project onto my muses to Cope ! GIAUDFJKL god gdfroijmkl sorry ummm i love star wars & video games ? catch me throwing an ow comp match & feeding in fortnite ! i love the moon, she’s the only thing that keeps me alive. i don’t have a mitochondria, i have lunar force. i have one (1) indoor cat who i birthed & LITERALLY 4 STRAY CATS who appeared from the mist. i run a ratchet vet service from my front porch & it’s free, i should be named human of the year honestly, truly. more on this mess of a muse, hyeon, who ( btw ) is literally my everything ? i’ve had her for quite a long time & lost motivation to write her so i’m changing some shit up to see how it goes & this is the product ! i hope you all enjoy reading this EXTREMELY long intro ( bc it will be very long im so sorry ) & befriend both myself as well as hyeon. & if you’re feelin’ a little extra, like this to plot ! i have a few ideas in mind but they’re all worth brainstorming over bc they’re SHIT. anyway, i love u all so much already ? genuinely a kind community i’m nut & WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU, here’s hyeon ~ ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

warning ! trigger warnings ahead possibly including ꞉ child prostitution, drug abuse, child abuse, mental abuse, sexual assault, depression, suicidal thoughts + other mental illness, murder, & probably a fuckton more. read with caution, please.

⌠ BACKGROUND ⌡

so starting with her parents, where all stories begin, let’s just preface by saying these were awful people. they ran in similar circles during school, a very bad one at that, & fell in love after sharing a joint. in their high daze they saw what their mind was conjuring but not the truth about one another. but for them, it had been enough. thus, their story began. it was a very rocky road but they managed to stay together regardless. the bond they had created blossomed as they partook in illegal activities such as petty theft, vandalism, & it slowly evolved into larger problems.

after hyeon’s mother, named jung eunbi, stole from her parents for the last time she was kicked out into the street with her boyfriend ( who had also been kicked out ) with no place to go. both dropped out of high school as it wasn’t their “””scene””” & took to the dirty streets of busan trying to turn tricks. they’d do anything they could to get some money to feed their addictions. in the midst of their scrambling for what they deemed as important, they never thought to buy protection. so one fateful night after a good steal, they made love on a dingy couch high as a kite & eunbi got pregnant.

she hid the pregnancy for as long as she could from her boyfriend, he only noticed when there was a rather apparent bump under her baggy clothing. with the weight of the realization they might have to force themselves to become a real family, the couple got hitched & attempted to find real jobs. in some miracle, they managed to find a house to live in & eventually “raise” their child in.

hyeon was born on the 8th of june, on a dark morning with clouds hanging ove the sky & rain starting to pour. she was premature as her mother did drugs during the pregnancy ( which was really no shocker ) & almost was pronounced a still born before they heard the tiny being crying & gasping for air. her parents had assumed that once she was born, they’d feel that parental love that everyone claimed to have but it never came. they stayed in the hospital a total of two days & hardly let their newborn get the help she needed before they hauled ass out of there.

the first 3 years of hyeon’s life were better than expected, her parents at least tried to take care of her but once she was able to do everything on her own they left her be to pursue their own happiness. honestly think of matilda but a lot more severe ok

she would often get locked in a closet while there were parties held & her parents were too strung out to remember their child. she could spend days in there before she was released. this was only the beginning.

at 8 years old, her father lost his job ( her mother stayed at home ) due to a random drug test & he of course failed. this triggered her parents to panic as they no longer could supply themselves with their so desired highs. so after a night of scheming, they came up with a plan so sinister not even the devil himself would agree.

random men & women began to arrive to their dingy home as hyeon would be ushered into quiet rooms with them where they would pay to do whatever they pleased with the young girl. this went on for 2 years before hyeon was pulled into the principals office at school with questions about where those bruises on her came from. her mom was picked up for possession & this prompted the police to raid their home to find many illegal substances throughout the place as well as evidence of abuse towards the child.

soon after her parents were placed in prison, hyeon was shipped off to seoul to the biggest orphanage in the country. there she stayed for 4 more years. the time there was quiet, nobody asked her about where she came from & she never spoke about it. in truth, she never knew how to as she was a blank mind essentially.

luckily when she was 15, after a long & strenuous search, hyeon’s grandparents found her & adopted her into their home in daegu. they were absolutely appalled at this shell of a girl, but could only blame her trauma on their own children. it was here that hyeon was loved for the first time in her life ( & possibly the only time ) & taught how to feel something besids fear. she was still horribly inept at processing emotions or showing them.

two years spent with them & one night as hyeon & her grandfather were sat at the family piano, playing & singing a song as her grandmother recorded them in secret. that same video was sent to an entertainment company without hyeon’s knowledge but was thoroughly surprised & equally as excited when she was recruited. only a measly year in training with her 2 group members before they debuted & they were suddenly the biggest gg in sk.

the group debuted under the name of PTL, hyeon’s stagename was now Tink as she accompanied her members in the ride of a lifetime. they were extremely popular with their girl crush yet enticing vocals with miss tink as the main vocalist & maknae. even so successful as to have a world tour ! the group had their differences, hyeon being the medium for them as the other girls were rather opposing forces. often she was put in the middle of their arguing only to run away when conflict came up. during this time she would write & compose her own songs, bringing a heavy soul feeling to the group with her powerhouse vocals.

with all this being said ( which was a LOT ), there is still more. a year after debut while the group was climbing in popularity, hyeon began receiving texts from an unknown number. she soon found out that the people behind the mask were her parents, somehow having managed to be released from prison & found their new mission in life was to harass their daughter. on an october night, after an argument went down within the dorms between hyeon’s two members, the youngest set out by herself to meet those who hurt her for dinner.

as expected, it went horribly. at this point in her life, she was extremely impressionable, & witnessed how her eonnie handled things which was with a liquor bottle in hand. so, like an idiot, she went to a club by herself to get fucked up. while sitting at the bar, a random man drugged her drink & took hyeon home with him. the night was a blur but when the young woman woke up she felt familiar bruises & a blanket of rage took over. the man was still passed out next to her.

so as she slipped out of his bed & found the nearest blunt object, hyeon managed to bash his skull in. she blacked out after that only to come to with clean hands & far away from the corpse. this was the reactant to lead her to go blind in rage & come to with blood on her hands. soon enough, she took a liking to the feeling & became two people within one while somehow managing to remain anonymous as a killer ran rampant.

earlier this year, after too much shit going on within the group, ptl disbanded & all went their own ways. which hyeon appreciated. the people she had once called her sisters had become like strangers & only cared about themselves, didn’t have the time to look after their maknae.

to say that her already pre - existing depression & anxiety sky rocketed would be an understatement. she left music for a while, deciding to stream on twitch & youtube as a gamer. it made her happy for a short time but has been planning on returning to music with hints of a solo debut soon that has fans excited.

edit: i forgot to put this in here originally IGJFDKL but she moved to jeju after her group disbanded for a new start. plus, her address somehow got leaked so she uprooted all her shit & left for the secluded island.

⌠ OTHER TIDBITS ⌡

stands at 5′7″, 168 pounds ( considered plus size tbh. one day i’ll put picture references LMAO ), with curly, thick hair & freckles from hell.

can speak english, japanese, chinese, & italian. has a slight british accent from who she learned english from was from the UK.

has a rottweiler puppy named chewie, a hedgehog named leia, & two cats named opal & hazel.

voice claim is a mixture of lee haeri, kim taeyeon, park sunyoung, & ailee.

her favorite color is blue, loves the rain, & will 100% be caught standing in the middle of a storm.

is a practicing wiccan ! very much so considers herself a witch.

her favorite drink is strawberry milk, & will eat anything that has strawberries !

#islandintro #THIS IS LITERALLY SO FUCKINGGGG LONGGGOHj #i ghosted over smth rly important but ... I CAN touch on it more later i supposed BUT YEAH IM SORRY IF THIS IS FKNNNN AWFUGLLL #this is a mess n im sorryt plsssjoidkl love me !#like dis if u'd like to plot uwu

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berry-pot · 7 years

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whats happening? im sure youll be fine regardless but i just wanna let you know a week from now youll feel better and itll be settled

So, basically I got my A level grades today, which determine whether I get into a uni or not, and I didn’t get good enough to get into my first choice, which was Manchester who gave me an offer based on my AS levels which were fairly high. However, I got into my insurance: Sheffield Hallam. It’s just been a bit of a shock and it felt like the end of the world and, I don’t know, it kinda felt to me like all my options had been eliminated and I was cursed with a life of mediocrity and below average-ness. I’ve had a couple of hours to talk with my mum and calm down and try to realise that it’s not that awful. Though, just as a disclaimer, I never thought it was terrible and not getting in to a Russel group uni was terrible it’s just I believe things are always relative to the individual and my entire educational life I’ve been used to getting high grades so I set the bar high - my perception has been warped but only for myself. I’m trying to view it as if I’m from the outside?? Like, so, in my AS year I kinda exhausted myself, having panic attacks almost every day and getting super stressed, so by the time I got to my A level year I think I was fed up before I even started. I hardly went to any lessons because I didn’t want to deal with the stress and anxiety that I pushed through for pretty much my entire school life (though, in younger years I had friends that acted as comforts and the courses were lower level). If that wasn’t me and I knew someone else who hadn’t been to basically any lessons because of anxiety I’d think it was incredible that they completed them and* passed them and got into university because it’d be relative to that individual and their mental illness so why not think of myself any other way!? Also, and I do know I’m rambling now but whatever, it’s not like going to Sheffield Hallam closes off any opportunities? It’s not like research facilities and/or post-graduate medicine degrees are going to look at where I studied and then turned me down based on it?? It’ll depend on my result at the end!

tl;dr : I didn’t get to go where my heart was set because my grades were lower than I was aiming, which really hurt, and it’s just going to take a while to, to stick with that metaphor, move my heart over to Sheffield and get excited about that instead.

#sorry for rambling but #this ramble was kinda good for me #I've been cry-talking to my mum all morning too which has helped me #anonymous #answered #tagging this as #personal #as well #results day

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userzara · 7 years

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hey guys, it’s dani (-: i play elise too and this is my brand new child and i’m super stoked for them !! OKAY so this became longer than i thought it was going to be, practically their bio but the first two sections is background, it’s not until you get to ‘recent years/now’ that it’ll get to zara’s main point. um, right TWs: drugs, minor death.

did i just see DUA LIPA walking down sixth street ?! oh, wait, it’s just ZARA SERAFIN, the 22 year old DEMIGIRL CASHIER/DEALER who has a reputation for being SNARKY AND MANIPULATIVE but STREETSMART AND STEADFAST. let’s hope THEY/SHE prepared to take on the wild ride that is austin, texas.

okay where do i begin, basically zara is inspired by alex vause as well as a variety of songs by phora ( check him out he’s great ) + an old character of mine that i never truly developed. so, to be frank, she’s a mess.com. i love her though, a lot and i’m going to try to break her down without writing an eight page essay mla format, so! here we go.

BEFORE AUSTIN, TEXAS.

zara comes from los angeles, california. the downtown area specifically, not the best area to grow up in but it was home and she never focused on how bad her city was doing because, for starters she only lived there until she was ten years old and the only thing on her mind is her friends.

her parents divorced when she had turned eight years old, her dad wasn’t the best at commitment to his wife, he absolutely adored zara but settling down just hadn’t been his thing and he left. he kept in touch, briefly. at first, zara understood why he left, he was tired but he loved her so it was okay. but those calls slowly stopped happening until he stopped calling completely and she stopped waiting for them. it was one of the worst heartbreaks she’s faced.

at ten years old, her mother remarried and they packed up everything to move to austin, texas with her new boyfriend that practically came out of nowhere. he wasn’t zara’s favorite person, in fact she felt betrayed and angry that he was now sitting where her dad used to sit and was taking over. her mother had two kids with this new guy and zara loves her siblings but she still holds a deep grudge for the guy who swept her mother up and ruined her life by moving to fucking texas. dramatic, sure but her friends were all in l.a and she had to start new.

EARLY YEARS IN AUSTIN, TEXAS ( 10-18 ).

at first she didn’t want to make new friends, sulking became a thing. zara was supposed to loathe this place in hopes that if they didn’t make any friends they’ll pack up and move back to los angeles where she belongs. spoiler alert: that never happened and it dawned on her that this is her life now

middle school approached and she knew she couldn’t face these coming years alone. it was hell, appearances were something they couldn’t give a shit about, sticking solely to wearing a signature black hoodie all the time, heavy eyeliner in attempt to make herself look tough but instead it got the label ‘basketcase’ stuck on her aka those mean blonde texas girls with the drawls and ‘my momma says…’ etc lmao.

POINT IS, near the end of sixth grade she got into fight with the girl who tried to torment her, finally snapping they fought in the quad of the school and zara let out of suppressed emotions and kicked her ass in front of everyone until they were pulled apart and she felt pleased as heck when she saw she made Beauty Pageant bleeding because good, that’ll teach her to stop running her mouth

this caught the attention of what teachers like to call the ‘troubled’ kids. when zara came back from her three day suspension (and did she get a yelling at home oh boy) they took her under their wing, zara’s already average grades started dropping by influence, she soon adopted some of their characteristics and mannerisms, forging herself into something she wasn’t seeking their approval because holy fuck these people were great. hanging out every friday at the movie theaters, loitering at the ages of thirteen/fourteen in the streets feeling like kings of the city, it became addicting

eventually this group formed into some of the ‘popular’ kids, no not the prom king and queen type of thing but they had a name for themselves. especially in HIGH SCHOOL. things started to get heavier, hanging out at the movie theaters turned into going to ragers, to trying weed for the first time, alcohol and zara fucking loved feeling rebellious and indulging in this new-found freedom. her first kiss was a drunk one and she wouldn’t be able to tell you who it was because she doesn’t remember, she just needed her first kiss because everyone was kissing everyone

her home life didn’t get any better. she started to come home later or the next day. her grades were shit but zara didn’t care.

soon enough weed turned to lsd. sophomore year became the year she lost her virginity to a guy that was feeling her up at a party, she didn’t care for him, she wasn’t attracted to him but all her friends were non-virgins and so she had to be too. she didn’t give a fuck with who only that it would be over quick and onto the next one. still, the first time left her feeling…weird. they didn’t enjoy it but, she thought it had to be done. not the best mentality to have.

zara starter ditching school, making new friends with people they met at parties, picking them down the street from their high school. they had drugs, they held the key to a good time. these were…bad people for her. dealers that lured her into their world of easy cash and a fucking good time. they knew they were attractive, still growing into their body and they knew they could munch off of them. most of this was junior year and it’s still a shock her grades kept her in school.

senior year they hardly showed up. senior year she saw someone die before her. it was one of the guys that provided whatever drug or bottle of alcohol she needed and it was an accident witnessing it. at this rate, zara went days without going home and they were on their way to the semi empty gas station for a drink before finally going home when she saw her friend through the window across the street and, it was a deal gone wrong and a gunshot broke through the chilly night causing her to drop her orange gatorade and spilling it all over the floor before she ran out of the store across the street and, well it didn’t really leave her the same.

somehow she managed to graduate high school but barely. she felt lost but still indulged herself in bad habits throughout that last year, still free-loading off others, tricking people into doing stuff for her. sleeping with whoever the hell she wanted to fuck. just throwing herself into whatever she could.

RECENT YEARS/NOW ( 19-22 )

at nineteen she was still lost, she didn’t know what she wanted to do. school was out of the question, she hated work but still did odd jobs, for a while they worked at a laundromat, taking care after the place. she still went to parties/clubs, snuck into bars. flirted with all the pretty faces and put on her faux personality. tbh zara is a goddamn two-face.

ANYWAYS at nineteen she got caught with a gram of heroin by the police. the authorities were called when a party had started getting out of control and they arrested as many people as they could, among them: zara. charged guilty of drug possession, and since her parents couldn’t pay bail, she ended up doing 2 years of prison. two long years in the slammer.

that was something. it didn’t hit zara that her life choices had her end up in prison until her first night in the women’s ward. she didn’t cry until she was locked in a bathroom stall and that was the only time. those were the longest days of her life. she met people in there, good and bad. avoided getting into brawls and picked up a book here and there. in my head she had a relationship with someone in there, but not really? frequent fwbs, exclusive. zara doesn’t label shit, she gets bored and, just like her first time, on to the next. honestly help her.

NOW TWENTY-TWO and her parents aren’t welcoming her back. she isn’t allowed to see her siblings, her family hadn’t visited her at all during those two years. her mother only came once but it was short since she couldn’t beat the fact that her baby was in prison, blaming herself and asking where she went wrong in raising her.

thankfully she had one single friend ( since i have a feeling not a lot of people kept in touch with her after she got arrested; connections anyone ?? and also connection for that ONE friend ) who hooked her up with a job to get her back on her feet but old habits die hard, working at a gas station just isn’t cutting it and is currently getting into the dealing game with her old contacts.

in my head it’s been like, two weeks since she’s been out. back in the city and ready for Drama.

SO YEAH THIS IS IT, WOW THAT WAS LONG IM SORRY !! wow i realized i haven’t really incorporated the alex vause thing apart from being in prison but personality wise i mean yeah, anyway !! hmu for those plots please and thank you !! or like this and i’ll come sliding into your ims !! (-:

#✕. ooc.#atxintro3 #drugs //#death //

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thevagabondlog · 7 years

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Ive been staring at this blank page for an hour now. I haven’t written a shred of anything in close to a year, but I feel like the current set of circumstances right now dictate it. Hermes guides me. I haven’t even written a draft by hand like I normally do, Im just letting this come out and it feels great.

The last two, maybe even three years of my strange trip on this planet have been such a surreal high paced blur. Ive come to realize that I do too much in too short a time, too many places visited, people met, things done in the dead of night and the overwhelming heat of the day. A few strings busted, a few hearts broken. Nothing out of the ordinary except the fact that my address is still changing every month and I’m still getting lost daily, both in reality and in my mind. Not that I’d change it for the world. I don’t even know who exactly reads this garbage but if you still are, know this is going to be a long one. Ive got a lot on my mind, time is on my side and there’s nowhere I need to be.

Everyday in the Caribbean is incredibly hot and sticky. Every night is mysterious and romantic.

Writing this is simultaneously difficult and surprisingly easy. Its difficult to explain whats been shredding through my head the last few months or however bloody long. Since I last attempted to write, if you can call it that, Ive since been through a serious and drama filled breakup with my long term girlfriend back home, been to seven countries including South Africa ( more on that later ), morphed back into the older Joshua Palmer and basically been running a permanent anarchic riot around the world. As I write now, its once again a hot day in the Bahamas and my head is still swirling with Ricardo Black Rum from the previous night. Special Edition, of course.

Church of the Open Sky.

April 5 - April 26, three weeks back in the motherland after more than a year and a half overseas. A lot of expectations held, almost none of them met. Im not quite sure why, but looking back now in June I realize i didn’t enjoy my stay there at all. Highlights include seeing my parents again (they wept) and one or two close friends who I’m not even sure are still friends at this stage. I came to realize I hate most of the people that fill up my tiny coastal hometown, largely due to the fact that they’re all hypocritical judgmental small minded people who have never been anywhere farther than the gas station in the next town. Keep in mind that these are the same people that said I’d never amount to anything and Id be back home after a month of failed traveling searching for a job running a yacht. Choke on your words. Anyhow, I also got told numerous times that I’d changed completely, becoming much more ‘arrogant’, ‘rude’, ‘insensitive’ etc to the people around me. I suppose in a way I was, but then everyone back in that place is easily offended and so narrow minded it makes me want to shoot myself. I suppose Im much happier over here, on my own and fending for myself, in foreign countries where I don’t know anyone, and all I know is where North-East is. The entire time I was back there, I couldn’t wait to come back to the West Indies. It feels good getting these thoughts down, they’ve been bouncing around my head for too long now.

I was dancing with some girl in a club a month or two ago and in-between reggaetron and soca she asked me a question no one has ever asked before: “Where do you consider home?” I really don’t know. Definitely not back in my hometown, I don’t plan on setting foot in that place for another twenty years at least. Its not on the boat either, nor on any of the islands. Id have to say home is wherever I feel alive the most. Which just so happens to be fifteen feet underwater looking up.

May 4 - Twentieth birthday in Georgetown, Exumas, Bahamas. Largely uneventful, frankly boring and unsatisfying. Mind you I was working at the time so of course the celebrations were minimal to non existent.

January 2017 - Current.

Adopted really strange sleeping patterns similar to a Russian insomniac writer fighting his bouts of suicidal depression with vodka and pharmaceuticals. I don’t know what this stems from other than my erratic lifestyle of mainly working onboard the entire day and still getting drunk at local bars into the early hours of every new day.

Right now its summer and every heat wave day is longer than the last.

I have lost interest in a lot of people who I once thought important. I do not know if this is selfish on my part or all just part of moving around constantly, or just one of those things you deal with as you get older. I have been told numerous times that I’m not going to make it past thirty, and for some reason or other I’m embracing the thought. Go out in a strange and mysterious accident of sorts somewhere out at sea, that place that once gave birth to me. Ill let you know.

For the past few weeks I have also had these increasingly frequent urges to just pack up, delete my Facebook and go completely off the grid, getting lost in strange and exotic foreign places. Lawrence of Arabia in Morocco. Not knowing the unknown is turning me on more and more everyday, as well as the idea of just giving the finger to all the people back home who are getting married young, stuck in nine-to-fives that they hate, and coming home to deal with the mortgage and car insurance people. I left the country the first time with no actual plan, one bag and sixty dollars in my pocket and I don’t regret a single moment. And I don't mean all those cliche travel pictures and utter bullshit you see on social media telling you to just ‘pack up and go’, I mean actually deserting myself. Exile on Main St. Highway Child. Midnight Rambler.

The lust for this has never been greater. I keep asking myself just what is holding me back?

My biggest fear is living a life just like everyone else, a life that no one remembers. Why should I listen to any authority or second guess myself? Time will tell and hopefully sooner or later. And if I’m not mistaken, and I surely hope not, I may have found someone to do it with. A woman unlike anyone else Ive met or ever known before. A woman who, somehow exceeds everything I think about her constantly and is basically the exact fibre of my dream girl since I was fifteen. Physically outrageous, a beautiful figure. Mentally, she keeps me on my toes only because I hope to somehow match her standards. Well travelled and with such an eerily alike mind to my own its more than possible we were once together in an earlier life. My best efforts of a description is a glorious hybrid of a gypsy, voodoo witch, mermaid, and the Goddess Aphrodite all in one. With a sprinkling of a rebellious 1960’s mindset which only turns me on further. Making love to her only broke my mind in two and made me question everything. She’s everything I ever wanted from every rock and roll song Ive listened to, and she’s in all of them. And believe it or not I only knew her for three days before she flew off again, once more traveling. While Im starting to feel a little stuck in this place. Most would say Im crazy, but I already knew that.

I do wonder what, and how exactly she’s had such an effect on me. It makes me look back at every other girl I’ve ever been with and realize that they do not even come close to her or the psycho-electric effect she has on me. And if you know me, you’d know I dont feel like this to anyone, ever. She’s touched me deep down, and the next few months or years or whatever only promise to be very exciting.

Im trying, and not succeeding very well, to look back at everything over the past few months and years, if you couldn’t tell by now. How many people did I meet for five minutes and never see again? Friends or lovers for one night and then gone the next day never to be seen? I look at what all my ‘friends’ are doing back home, studying in their first or second year. My best friend living with his fiancee and hating every second, constant fighting and the such but too scared to leave because he believes he loves her and well, believes he cant do any better. In love with the security and constant hard work I suppose. A friend through the grapevine told me recently that he has lost respect for me and hates the lifestyle I live. I wont lie and tell you I wasn’t hurt or taken aback. We’ve spent four years together, done much, and always confided in one another. Is he jealous of the knowledge that Im traveling the world, free and easy, able to go to the bar every night and dance with exotic girls while he is forced to come home after work to a nagging unloving bitch that makes his life hell? He would never admit that. Im not scared to tell it exactly how it is though. Another trait passed on to me from my father, whom I miss so.

If I had never made the decision to leave all those months ago would I be in the same position as my friend right now? Maybe. More than likely, I was in a long term relationship with someone I thought I loved, about to get sucked into that domesticated world before I jumped ship. Haven’t seen her since actually. Thanks for the memories girl, but you weren’t for me.

Life would be very different and it would bore me to death. I prefer dying in other ways in places where no one understands English.

Now my thoughts go back to my unbiological sister, we once were very close. Always looking after one another, often mistaken to be a couple but not. I thought I was in love with her too, but she’s changed so dramatically in the time I was away I hardly recognized her anymore during my homecoming visit. She lied to me many times in those three weeks, thinking I wouldn’t find out, and probably still thinking Im ignorant. Makes me wonder why we are like we are. She told me I changed a lot too and I’m no longer the Josh she knew, that I’ve grown cold and distant. Well look at yourself babe, can you really blame me? Its only further cemented my belief that you need to keep moving forward in such a way that they will never trap you or hold you down, until finally you find someone that you want to be trapped with. You know who you are.

“I thought you needed my lovin’, But it’s my heart that you stole. I thought you wanted my money, But you plundered my soul.”

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