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grokebaby · 1 year

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I might be stating the obvious but the black feathered lady next to Nan here is ofc Mrs. Varpunen (Lassi's bio mom)

Oh yeah, another "is this already obvious?" statement would be that Varpunen means sparrow in finnish. Their last name is Sparrow.

You can quite obviously see alot of Lassi's facial traits like nose and jaw shape in her! How strange that Lassi himself isn't more beastly than he is, considering the Mrs. Here. However a big portion of his traits also come from the Mr - notably, blue skin.

She shall remain anonymous, but throughout this I'll refer to Mrs Varpunen as P

Back when the kids were small, Nan didn't talk about the Mr and P with names, hence why they're called that (Mr and Mrs) now. She would've talked about them with names if the kids ever asked but they never really did. Ykno how, as a parent, you don't talk about your fellow parent with their first name to your child?

"Why didn't she call them mom and dad?" because they weren't that to Lassi and Siru. Nan is their mom, and they had no dad. She raised them single. Though she did say "Dad" about the Mr every now and then in some contexts, it was moreso used to denote who we're talking about rather than earning him the title.

P was always an insecure and easily anxious demon, though she had better times prior to her marriage. She could be joking and brash and fun, even if that sometimes did lead her to more anxiety causing situations. I say anxiety, as in, if she could've been diagnosed, she would've had a disorder. She was born into warriorhood but the stress of guarding others lives and fighting threats put a huge strain on her mental health which, in her adolescence, caused her to leave the lifestyle behind. This unfortunately isolated her from most of her loved ones and relatives, since she moved elsewhere upon quitting, and well (insert lore that explains more why here). Ykno. You get the point.

This post will discuss emotional/psychological abuse and/or manipulation, and misogyny after this point.

Having to grow into her adulthood with untreated anxiety and consequently depression, P was easily swayed by Mr's charms when they first met. He's the kind of person who can make you feel good about yourself in his company only. He was quick to notice Ps insecurities and offered emotional support and attention she clearly hadn't received before. He ofc thought of himself as helping her but ykno, getting a deeply insecure and struggling individual to latch onto you in order to make them a loyal spouse is... Well shitty is an understatement..

I'm not saying there wasn't genuine affections from both sides, however that doesn't change the fact that their relationship was deeply unhealthy. The existence of love doesn't cancel out abuse.

Mr Varpunen met P first and Nan later, which is a part of why she was swayed to join the relationship in the first place. The Mr alone would've at most earned an eyeroll from Nan. But he'd gained more experience in how he navigated intimate relationships by the time they met, plus the inclusion of a third person in the relationship gave Nan some reassurance in it's stability.

Before anyone says anything about this: None of this is meant to put polyamory in a negative light, this is meant to portray a toxic relationship, in general - polygamous relationships can be toxic same as monogamous ones. Even if this was all monogamous, there still would've been all the same issues with Mr Varpunen included. In the setting where these three originate, polyamory is common and considered as normal as monogamy. None of this is intended to come off as criticism of the relationship model (I'm a poly attracted person myself btw), it's criticism of misogyny.

Back to the characters.

P was fond of Nan from the start, even if she felt worried about what this would change for her and Mr's relationship. This was ofc due to her unhealthy dependency on him. She rarely spoke to Nan 1x1 outside of any instance that warranted it - she didn't go out of her way to avoid it but would always look to her husband for the majority of things. She did often wish she and Nan could've gotten closer to each other but didn't find the courage to approach her, nor receive any advances she made, in fear of what Mr Varpunen would think of it.

Mr would later come to make multiple lighthearted remarks about being pleased his two wives are getting along - "Just so long as you don't get along TOO well", so they wouldn't stop needing him.. He didn't feel threatened by their relationship to each other in the slightest since he perceived himself as the one in control, and couldn't imagine things getting out of hand. It's no surprise he flew too close to the sun (or in this case the death God's mouth) later.

P often felt conflicted towards Nan since, despite finding her a genuinely sweet and reasonable person, the damage had already been done by then and she often resented Nan for being more seemingly "Well adjusted", levelheaded and independent (Though most people would seem more independent to P in comparison to herself). She often secretly wished Nan would be expelled of the relationship, jealous, and all sorts of other things she ultimately also felt guilty for thinking. She did acknowledge to an extent that her thoughts only came as a result of the emotional abuse but that wasn't enough to help her out of it.

Despite everything, P was always held up by Mr as the more "Attractive" and desirable one, however subtly. Nan was used to being modest and putting others before herself so she didn't really have the confidence to call this out, especially since it was done so implicitly. Had she mentioned, it would've been all "Oh Nan's jealous now, is that it? You want more attention than the other wife?? You're demanding even more from me???" with Mr. Nan was the humble, low maintenance wife, and P was the hot, special, "can't be left alone poor girl". P's appeal was due to her being apparently stronger and more potent supernaturally since she was born into a warrior/"beast" lineage. You'd think this would earn some respect but it was mostly just being objectified unfortunately.

Mr would live at their homeside with his wives, but go out to the human realm to work a job he'd acquired there, and so he'd leave almost daily, sometimes for multiple days at a time. This was however balanced by him sometimes staying home for a few days in turn. Oh, Nan and P? Taking care of the home and all, ykno.. "As women should".

Vaguely related, but Lassi came out of an egg, whereas Siru was born. (is that how you say it? Birthed??)

Both chicklings were covered in silky black plumage at first, ykno, baby feathers, but they shed it in under a month as they tend to do. Lassi ended up being the favorite due to being a fat little peep and resembling the Mr more than Siru. Neither wife felt quite right about the obvious favoritism, however P was just relieved it was the one she made that became the Fave. Nan never talked about this to either of the children later on and though she mentioned Lassi resembling the Mr more, she preferred being vague about it as to not cause rifts between the siblings. Ykno, like a decent parent.

Though the names of the kids were decided as a group, Mr Varpunen insisted they were named the "human way", against the traditions of their kind. He was of course planning ahead on bringing the kids with him, as he intended for the whole family to move to the human realm eventually.

Both Siru and Lassi were under a year old when P and Mr Varpunen met their demise.

#Character notes #(the variety where it's a huge essay about the intricacies of their psyche)#Nan #Lassi's mom #Demon oc #Backstory #Uhh yeh!!! Drops this on you #Content warnings in text

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dizzybojack · 1 year

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on penny and bojack

Recently replied to a reddit post about penny and bojack that was basically trying to pin most (if not all) of the blame on Penny for what happened after her prom. This was basically my reply (edited for tumblr). Also if you find my reddit, no you didn't!

Spoilers below.

The first time I watched this episode, I also thought that Penny was being stupid during this part and was partially to blame for what happened. She definitely needs a little lesson on taking a "no" and consent, but I came to realize that Bojack was also, once again, being selfish and wrong during this storyline. Remember, Penny is JUST over the line for sex with a major to not be considered statutory rape. Bojack at the time is in his 50's. That's pretty disgusting. I concede, Penny definitely shouldn't have kept pushing and accepted Bojack's no. Her behaviour isn't excusable either and shouldn't be simply written off, but we have to keep in mind that Penny is only 17. She isn't aware of the implications of this sexual encounter. She clearly needs to relearn a bit about consent and accepting rejection, but she is a TEENAGER and the fact is that she shouldn't be in this position in the first place.

Bojack isn't stupid. When he dances with her on the top of the water tower and tells her she looks like her mom, he knows he still has feelings for Charlotte. He knows his history of sleeping with younger girls that he is a father figure to (ie: Sarah Lynn) and making terrible shitty decisions. [OP said] it was common sense for Penny to know where this would go, because Bojack has a crush on her mom, but Penny didn't know that at the time. In fact, I would flip it around and say that it's common sense for BOJACK to know where this is going to go. Bojack knows that he still wants Charlotte, he knows that Penny is young and vulnerable and willing. And very similar to her mother, as he says on the water tower. He knows his history, his feelings, his recklessness better than anyone.

I also don't believe Penny was ever "playing the victim" or trying to ruin Bojack's life. We see when Bojack goes on the bender with Sarah Lynn that Penny almost has a panic attack when she sees Bojack. One of her first questions is, "Did you come to find me?" It's heavily implied that Bojack literally gave her a panic disorder. And this is all without even being able to see how Bojack has affected her relationships and ability to trust people! Bojack was a father figure or at least an older man that Penny looked up to and trusted. I'm sure him wanting to have sex with her has affected her future relationships and caused her to be deeply mistrustful of anyone who shows interest in her.

Although he refused the first two times, that's just proof that he knows how fucked up it is when he eventually accepts. He knows he shouldn't and he knows exactly how wrong it is, and yet he does it anyways. There is no excuse for this. If Bojack weren't so self-centred he would have gone straight to Charlotte to tell her what Penny had done immediately to make sure it doesn't happen again. But he doesn't, because he's selfish and a coward. He wants to stay here longer, please, just a bit longer, away from LA and from the mistakes he's made and the people he's hurt and the consequences of his actions.

If anyone disagrees or wants to discuss anything I said, please do. I've lately come to realize more that Bojack is actually just a really shit person as a whole (not to say he can't be redeemed or he isn't deserving of love) so this post is more Bojack-negative. Will tag Bojack neg with #bojack neg so anyone can mute if they don't want to see it.

#bojack neg #bojack horseman #bjhm #penny carson #bjhm spoilers #<- ish i guess.

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danielxricciardo · 3 years

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Can you do one with Max, with 46 and 55 from angst list?

Summary: You are suffering from depression and Max tries to be by your side

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, depression

Word count: 3.6k+

46. “I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

55. “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Depression feels like a lot of things.

It feels like sadness, which is what everyone will tell you. It's a pretty common thread.

"I'm worthless."

"Everyone thinks I'm a horrible burden."

So on and so forth.

Everyone in the world is happy but you, and in the end, you are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't belong in this otherwise glorious and happy place. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you are lying there on your bed in the same unlaundered pair of pajamas, wondering why you are even allowed to keep living any longer. Some meteor strikes or lightning bolts should be reserved for people like you because you are taking up space and oxygen and food and other resources that real, happy, productive people need.

It feels like emptiness. You have all these possibilities and none of them seem interesting. You could do some art, or play some music, but that just doesn't feel right. There's no joy in it. You could have sex with your significant other, but you can't muster up the desire. You could play video games, or read a book. But what's the point? There's no real benefit to all of it but passing the time. You could get up and make lunch. But no, you're not that hungry, and if you close your eyes, time will pass a little faster. You can lie there. That works. It doesn't require active effort to do something fruitless. Everything is as empty and fruitless as lying and staring out your window at the clouds and the shifting shadows of tree branches, and so why do anything else?

It feels like fatigue. Standing up out of your bed requires the same amount of bodily effort as climbing several flights of stairs. Managing to get dressed and walk outside is like running a race. Heaven helps you if you try to go to the store or a friend's house -- that may as well be on the other side of the continent. Every step is heavy. Every muscle motion requires ten times the work it used to. Exercise becomes difficult, and control over your body expires quickly. You become clumsier, so heavy lifting is right out. You daze out randomly, daydreaming, even dozing, so biking or running is hard. You feel most at home when you are entirely relaxed, so you lie down...and don't get up again until something like your bladder compels you.

It feels like a loss of control. You have no idea why your brain and body are doing this. You don't want to feel sad. Nobody wants to feel shitty and tired and empty all the time. People will look at you and say, "It's like you don't want to get better." Those people are idiots. You truly, deeply, from the bottom of your soul, have no idea why this has happened or what to do. It's not logical. It makes no sense. You woke up like this, or it crept in overtime or something like that. It's like a fog, a force of nature that sweeps in, occludes everything, and there's not one thing you can do about it from where you stand. Trying feels like taking a paper fan outside and trying to blow away the morning mist. Someone has tied puppet strings to your brain and is playing this hideous dance with it, and you don't have the scissors to cut them away. The dance doesn't make sense; it's arbitrary and rhythmless. If you had any sort of reasoning behind it, you could take control. But you don't.

It feels like desperation. You can't find a way out. You lie there at night, keening into your pillow like a wounded animal, making all sorts of noises that no human being should be able to make. You claw and scratch at the sheets, or at yourself, as the pain wrings itself out through bodily expression. The tears won't stop. You don't know why. All you know is that it hurts, it really and truly hurts, and you think if it goes on any longer, you're going to die. Right there. Bleed out on the floor. So you grab up your phone, and you call someone at 4 AM, and you beg them to please just make it stop. You bury yourself in books and movies because at least then you can imagine something else than yourself. You read nonstop. You have to have your fix. It's like an addiction, no, more like a life support machine. Otherworlds, fantasies of happiness, and real experiences that aren't your horrible existence become the iron lung keeping air flowing in and out. You are alive because you can stop thinking for a while. Your friends come over to comfort you. Their stories keep you sane and well, like dialysis for all the toxins in you. Your mind has failed at being independent, and now it relies on a thousand little machines to keep itself running. You rely on one machine until another comes to save you. You read books until your friends come by. You stretch out your time with friends until you have to bury yourself in a movie again just to keep the thought of real-life away.

It feels like untamed anger. Your friends can't keep this up forever. You fall further and further, and you eventually start dropping commitments. You have become That Person, the flake that everyone knows will back out. People start getting annoyed at you, annoyed at how they have to spend so much time just keeping you afloat, annoyed at how often you're causing them trouble by constantly disappearing and backing out of appointments, and so on. Your workplace gets annoyed at your lack of productivity. And then you can't take it anymore, and you want to scream at them, grab them by the throat and shake them because IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! You start having twisted fantasies, the ones where you walk up to that person who keeps telling you he can't do this anymore, you're just too unreliable, putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger. Just to make him know, for once, that FUCK HIM, your problems are REAL, DAMMIT, REAL, and he better FUCKING RESPECT that. And when you're gone, he'll fall to his knees and cry, and he'll say, he wishes he had understood, that he didn't mean to be so unkind, and the scar on his heart from his own failure will remain fresh and knotted for eternity. And then you shake yourself out of the daydream, and you wonder why you have turned into such a horrible person, someone who even considers ending their own life just to spite another human being. Then it creeps back in, the knowledge that the world is getting fed up with you...and the cycle begins again. You start thriving off these daydreams, because at the very least if you can't be happy, you can throw caution to the wind and get the petty, oddly satisfying revenge buried under all those layers of morality that are becoming worn and flaking away. It's just a fantasy, right? And it helps pass the time...

It feels like forever. You have forgotten what it's like to truly be joyful. You can imagine it, but it's not really you in those thoughts. This is who you are. This is your life. This is you.

It feels like you have only one thing truly under your power: your existence. You cannot choose what life throws at you. Your brain and body have betrayed you. Your friends have worn away, and you've fled from your job and any commitments you have.

It feels empowering. You can jump whenever you want.

But he accepted you the way you are. He never reproached you for negatively influencing his mentality or life, even though you knew he felt it too. He always listened to you, he was with you even at 2 in the morning when you were crying on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest, and you knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to go through, basically, what you were going through. But no matter how much you told him you could do it without his help, Max was coming back more insistently than ever.

He came up with the idea to start therapy. "You have to find out why you feel this way. Go at least once, see how it is, if you don't like it or feel that it doesn't help you, you will give up, okay?" That was a year and a half ago.

The psychologist gave you a diagnosis from the first session: Major Depressive Disorder. Sure you knew what the three words meant, but you didn't know what it meant to have a label on your condition.

"A major depressive disorder is characterized by one or more of these depressive episodes. the diagnosis of major depressive disorder requires depressed mood or anhedonia which is the loss of interest in pleasure and five or more signs or symptoms for the SIGECAPS mnemonic for a 2-week period. (SIGECAPS) Sleep Disturbance, loss of Interest, feeling Guilty, feeling fatigued and low in Energy, having decreased Concentration, decreased or increased Appetite and been agitated and slow and having Suicidal ideation."

It sounds incredible to you. Suicidal thoughts? Not everyone has a thought, somewhere, behind their mind 'What if I disappeared?'

You were prescribed Prozac and Zoloft and it helped. You weren't always sad anymore, you could go to the races with Max and support him as a normal girlfriend does. You apologized to my friends who tried to help me and whose lives you made impossible and you managed to get back to work, from home anyway. Sure, you still had moments when you felt like you weren't 100% yourself but not like before. You did therapy twice a week and the psychologist was happy with your evolution.

But being the stupid ass that you are, you stopped taking the medication. You took the last pill on Friday. Because you were fine. You felt ok, everyone around you told you you were better, you were doing amazing, so you were cured, right? Or so you thought. Saturday was normal. Sunday was not. Your mood and energy were very low. You woke up at like 2 in the afternoon. That is not unusual for you. You’re used to it. You were sad. You were exhausted. You knew that feeling like this was “no excuse” so you tried to force yourself to do it anyway. Typical of your life. You feel like you had already taken so much off work because of the triple-header, you were for three weeks attached to the hips with Max.

The only thing you thought of was dying. And that terrified you. And Max senses something was wrong. But he didn't want to tell something and ending up being wrong and you being upset by his misinterpretation. But, yes, he sensed that you were becoming your old self.

"Hey, babe," he snapped you out of your daydreaming. A tragic one, where you were finally at peace and Max was crying for you. You were on the verge of crying yourself at the mere image of Max in your head. But you pushed it far from your mind, somewhere in a dark corner for you to find it at an appropriate time to fantasize about your dying. "How about we go to a picnic? It's sunny outside."

Yes, the wheater was amazing. It was finally summer and you could go outside and spend some time with Max. But your brain literally is tricking you into thinking you don't deserve to enjoy the sunny day. Why? You don't have an answer.

"I'm not really in the mood, Max. Sorry."

You are not in the mood. That was his affirmation. You are not ok.

"You feeling good?"

"Yeah. Just tired I guess."

"But you just woke up."

You shrugged. He was right. You just woke up, so why do you feel like you were carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders? You couldn't walk. You almost felt like 18 months ago. And that is when it hit you. And Max, at the same time.

"Still taking your meds, I hope."

Silence. Your mind was like overcrowded and you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your head and pulled your hair because you wanted it to stop. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to think. You didn’t know how you felt. You were like anxious-depressed-angry-miserable-irritable all in one. Your head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts were talking over thoughts. So fast that you couldn’t even make out one complete sentence. It was just too much for you to handle. You just wanted someone to kill you.

Max came to you and he hugged you so hard you thought he could crush your bones right there and then. You calmed down eventually. But now you were embarrassed. Because Max saw you, again, at your lowest. Because you promised you'll get better, and for a while, you were better, but now you are fucked and back into square one. All those money on therapy and your pills, for what? For you to stop taking them because you thought you were feeling better? Well, you definitely were not ok, nor you'll be. So, yeah, being fucked sounded good.

Max brought you the medicine and a glass of water. Taking the pills again? For what? The pills only fuel the feeling that everything is fine and that you are a normal person. Nothing was good and you were not a normal person.

But you took the pills. And you looked Max in the eyes and you wanted to die. He seemed crushed. He was sad, devastated, maybe angry but definitely disappointed. In you. Because maybe you don't realize this, but while you were doing good, he was doing great. He knew you could be on your own so he stopped worrying that much, and that could also be seen in his driving. He was winning more races, he was at his best and now he was at his lowest. Because you were at your lowest; co-dependency and shit.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I was doing well enough to stop taking the meds," you say in a broken voice but the tears are yet to appear. He stroked your hair and kissed you on your forehead.

"You should have told me. You don't have to go thru this alone. I am here."

"Yeah, you are here. But you don't have to be!" you snapped. Irritability, one thing your depression came with. "I am just a burden for you. And no, this does not come from the fact I stopped taking my pills. You took care of me like I was a child, and, fuck it, you don't deserve this."

"Stop talking like this, alright? If I would suffer from depression you would have done the same thing. You would have taken care of me. Or am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. To be honest, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you, but I don't want you to be. It's obvious that I would never get better. This is me. I am fucked in the head, half wishing I was dead and I am just bringing you down."

"Don't tell me this is a fucking break up, Y/N." he narrows his brows and looks at your features to make sure you were being serious.

“I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a break-up or a suicidal vocal note?"

You broke down. Crying can be cathartic and healthy, but if it goes on too long it can lock your body in a feeling of despair. Even if your mind works through the problem that caused the crying, because your body is still feeling the physical effects it will cause your mind to revert to the negative state. It's not sadness. It's dread and paralysis. You had a certain feeling of emptiness and purposelessness.

“You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay,” you say between sobs.

"You want me to find you a reason to stay alive or to stay in this relationship? To be frank, I can name a thousand reasons, but it all depends on you."

Max hugs you from behind and you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was stronger than ever. You allowed yourself to inhale Max's scent, a soothing scent you could get drunk on.

"I want to believe you love me. I mean, I love you and I consider you the love of my life, you know? We are so young and I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you, I'm gonna marry you someday, even if right now you don't think you're gonna make it till tomorrow. So, yeah, this is reason number one," he said and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "This is not the worst you have been through in life. Remember where you were 18 months ago; you had no idea what was wrong with you. Now you know and you know you can be better. I know you get sick of those pills, but maybe, in the future, you won't need them. Isn't that exciting? This was reason number two," he said and pressed another kiss to your cheek. He was going to do that every time he would give you a reason. "Have you been to all the beautiful places around the world? Sure, you came to a few Grand Prix, but you never saw Great Ocean Road in Australia, you know Daniel promised he would take us there someday. You never saw Pamukkale in Turkey or Japan in Cherry Blossom season or the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. There are many places you need to visit, baby. So, yeah, this was reason number three. I don't know if you want me to continue but I can give you one more reason. Reason number four. Do it for you, baby. You deserve to live and be happy. I know you can be happy and I promise you I will do my best to help you. You just have to take it one step at a time. You just have to let me in. Let me help you, baby."

You turn around, facing him now. You loved him, with all of your heart. You love him for who he is. You love him because he literally came into your life as your lifeline. You love him because he helped you crawl up the deep bottomless abyss of depression. You love him because he had the patience and the audacity to bear with your depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, your phobias, your mood swings, your temperamental and short-tempered nature, your overthinking, your being overprotectiveness, and possessiveness. You love him because never once he thought of giving up on you in your hard times. You love him because he stands by you like a rock of unwavering support and he’s someone you can fall back on. You love him because he listens to you talking non-stop about your past, your pains, your fears, and your losses without complaining even once. You love him because he rediscovered you and helped you find yourself again when you were lost in darkness. You love him because he filled you with confidence and hope and strength and belief and determination. You love him because he believes you are the best when you set your mind on something and no one can stop you from achieving your goals. You love him because he is protective, caring, understanding, loving, and easy to be with while never being too suffocating or taking up your space. You love him because sooner or later he does everything you ask of him and does with his whole attention. You love him because whatever endeavor he engages in, he likes to give his 100% and hates doing half-hearted things. You love him because he can decode the nuances in your voice and judge your mood just perfectly. You love him because he read you like an open book and he can hear your silence. You love him because he never doubts your loyalty, your intentions, your hard work, and your million issues. You love him because no matter how busy he might get he never forgets that you are waiting for his message or his call. You love him because he keeps you in his priorities. You love him because he gave you a passion you never knew you had. You love him because he very strongly believes that you deserve the best of everything. You love him because he is empathic, kind, magnanimous, thoughtful, and down to Earth. You love him because he has eyes for no one but you. You love him because he wants to see you healthy, wealthy, prosperous, famous and he wants you to hold back at nothing, for no one, he wants you to be a Go-Getter. And most importantly you love him because no one ever loved you like he did.

"I will let you in," you say and you kiss him hard. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

"Don't be. It happens."

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #f1 fanfiction #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 2021 #f1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one oneshot #formula one imagine #formula 1 oneshot #formula one #formula 1 #red bull racing

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mrs-nate-humphrey · 2 years

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completely random but i always wondered what would have happened had blair actually been pregnant in the thin like between chuck and nate. the storyline is kinda forgettable because of the aftermath, but it’s so interesting. especially with the whole dynamic of nate’s family trying to force him to marry blair and chuck’s weird/horrendous early season infatuation with her

i've thought about this a lot! i always felt like blair would have a really rough go of it regarding her self-image, feelings of shame, potential relapse of disordered-eating related thoughts, and just... be in a really low place? but i feel like she would eventually go to serena.

maybe not easily, or not immediately. there'd probably be drama of some kind, some sort of falling out & a reconciliation, much like in the canon arc in which blair drives serena away and then serena comes back to her and is supportive to her (if i'm remembering right?? ugh, i really need to rewatch this show.)

i do think blair would probably get an abortion - i just don't see her being in a stage of life wherein she could carry to term without going through immense stress and negative mental health stuff, i think it would make her miserable and just be really bad for her overall. and i think serena would be with her every step of the way - helping her keep it a secret from eleanor, and chuck, and nate, going with her to the clinic and taking her back home, sitting with blair as blair navigates all her messy & complicated feelings... all of that.

this is just me, though, and this is me trying to give blair an okay arc. i worry that if the show had taken it there, blair's pregnancy would've probably been leaked onto gossip girl, and either anne & howard would've tried extra hard to get nate to marry blair (or they would've maybe enforced ~Consequences on nate for a bastard archibald child - they seem the type) OR chuck would've been extra romantic (by which i mean creepy) OR chuck would've done what he essentially does in the end of s1, going all "i'm chuck bass, i hate commitment, don't look at me, waldorf". idk. s1 chair alongside blair being pregnant with chuck's kid sounds really, really messy, and really terrible - i think even if you're a diehard chair shipper who likes chuck's character, even then, you'd possibly feel that this arc would be shitty for both of them. so yeah.... much to think about.

#anon #abortion cw #pregnancy cw #anti chair #kinda? for tags sake?#what was my rewriting tag #oh well

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chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic.

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #sebastian smythe #kurtbastian #itshtf

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codename-adler · 3 years

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Dear Tumblr toxicity,

Hi. Adler here. We need to talk.

- TW: mental health issues, depression, bipolar disorder, self-harm, homophobia, transphobia, coming out, xenophobia, islamophobia, racism, implied sexual content, rape, non-con, addictions, abuse, parental negligence, depictions of violence, swearing (please message me kindly if I forget anything)

- What prompted this message: The release of Skam France S7 teaser (emphasis on teaser, will get into that below)

- Where I’m coming from: I will talk from the pov of a white, cis and queer 22-years-old woman (she/her); this is the pov that affects my experiences and the opinions I will share below; but my message comes from a place of deep hurt, and love

- What this is about: My goal is to share a recurring experience that has hurt me in order to spread a message of awareness, maturity, peace and love

- Central content: Skam France, Skam Wtfock, and Skam/remakes in general

From now on I will assume people have enough information for me to talk about the topics without explaining every plotline/character. There are plenty of wiki pages to help you out and I will gladly answer any (respectful) questions asked if a plothole bothers your comprehension of my message. I’m only making these assumptions in order to alleviate the text.

January 9th, 2021.

The francetv slash YouTube channel releases an unexpected teaser video for an equally unexpected seventh season Skam France. The video features Tiffany, a white, cis female teenager, going into labour from denial pregnancy just after winning what appears to be a gymnastics championship. Overall, the video and its release are very dramatic.

The character of Tiffany, also called Tiff, was previously seen on season 6 of Skam France as a bully who persecuted the main character, Lola, both at school and on social media. Outside of this characterization, nothing is known about her. It is majorly accepted that Tiff is not a liked character; she rather poses as one of the antagonists of Lola’s arc.

Now you know the details of what happened, in the most objectively possible way.

Now I’ll speak for myself.

Before I went digging around for people’s reaction, here is what I initially thought of this video.

1) Shock: I thought Skam France was over, so... Big, big shock.

2) Excitement: I hold this web series very close to my heart. It has gotten me through depressive episodes, anxiety attacks, coming out to my best friend. To see this new development? It couldn’t bring me more joy.

3) Curiosity: I recognized Tiff immediately. I was intrigued as to what would happen to her to set off a new season in true Skam Fr fashion. As soon as she started gripping her stomach, I knew she was pregnant and wasn’t aware of it. Big, big surprise here again.

4) Numbness/Overthinking: As I stared at my screen, motionless, my mind went off. What did it mean? How did she not know? Who is the father? Do we know him? Will the baby survive? Where are the other characters? Will Lamifex be present? What? How? When? Why? Who?

5) Disappointment: No, I did not like Tiff one bit in S6. Yes, I sincerely wished for a season on either Jo (ambiguous and funny teenage girl, cis + white), Sekou (seemingly neurodivergent teenage boy, cis + black), and my favorite, Max (mysterious and grave teenage boy, trans + white) So why Tiff? It felt to me like a missed opportunity, but I did not lose hope.

So, these were the five stages of my emotional process. And then I made the terrible mistake to go look for the fans’ reaction. I didn’t even look at the YT comments, I didn’t go on Instagram, I went directly here on Tumblr. Why? I’m still asking myself that. From S1 to S6 of Skam Fr, I kept my love for the show to myself and only looked at ig and video edits. I tried once, and only once, to look it up on Tumblr, and was greeted by fervent agressivity, disrespect and hate. Why did I ever forget that after watching the S7 teaser? I still don’t know.

The reactions on this platform were wild. People are furious (I get that). People are disappointed (I get that). People are anxious (I get that). People are also verbally agressive, insensitive, hateful, disrespectful and bullies. I don’t get that.

Comments along the lines of “What she gonna do with a fucking baby?”, “Are we gonna watch the baby do nothing all fucking season?”, “Wowwww, teenage pregnancy, so new and relatable!” (note the sarcasm made in the comment here), “Who gives a shit about Tiff?”, etc.

And then all the mistakes Skam Fr ever made flooded back onto the feed. The wlw misrepresentation, the whitewashing, the overdramatization, the dubious sex scenes between minors, all of it.

Let’s take a break here. Do I condone these mistakes? Nope. Am I a white-bully apologist? Nope. Did I forget every horrible action Tiff has made in the past? Nope. She manipulated a whole school against Lola, she profited from Lola’s mother’s death, she bullied her, harrassed her, pushed her deeper into mental distress. Tiff was a despicable character that I never once liked. The way she was played by the actress made it clear that Tiff was not intended to be a good guy. If I could replace her as the main of S7, I would, in a heartbeat. I’d choose, as I said, Jo, Sekou or Max.

Skam France deeply lacks diversity and made mistakes when attempting to diverse the issues represented. This is not an opinion, it’s a fact.

Poc representation is very, very low. Only one season has a woc of Islam beliefs as mc (Imane, S4) with poc entourage/family. Only 2 other characters not related to Imane were poc (Sekou and Sarah, S1-S2). These 2 characters were very in the background and served to further the mc’s plotline, they had no real content. (I am not a poc, and so my opinion does not matter here. If you are not poc, your “opinions” don’t matter here, this point is not for you to debate. These are facts.)

While I do not particularly find the wlw representation bad, I do understand how it hurts/bothers other queer women. From my perspective, the bar was very low regarding my expectations of the Lola/Maya pair (none of them died *yay* they had a happy ending *yay* they were not typically overfeminized or overmasculinized *yay* Lola and Maya were respectful of each other, understood each other, accepted each other with all their flaws and their beauty *yay* I truly believed in their love and it gave me confidence and hope *yay* I ould really go on but this is not my main point so I’ll stop here) Regardless of my opinion on Mayla, I understand that to some queer women, it was bothering/hurtful. (If you are anything other than a woman / wlw, this point is not for you to debate. Keep your “opinions” to yourself, it does not matter here. These are facts.)

Like every remake of the original Skam where the S4 was given to Sana/Imane, the Muslim community was not represented at its best, at its most beautiful and respectfully. The character of Imane, although she is my favorite girl of the series, was not portrayed in a way that respected the majority of the Muslim community. (If you are anything other than Muslim, this point is not for you to debate. Our opinions do not matter here. These are facts.)

And so the same goes for the portrayal of sexual assault and child pronography in S2, of mental illness and homophobia in S3, of disabilities in S5, of addiction, transphobia, self-harm and neurodivergence in S6. Again, if you are not part of these communities, your opinions do not matter on these issues. These are facts that are not up for debate.

In other words, Skam France, as well as the original Skam, Skam Wtfock, Skam España, and probably all the others I haven’t watched in their entirety, are NOT perfect shows. They (maybe) tried their best to portray issues of the younger generations that are ugly, shameful, taboo, hard-to-swallow-pills. Of course they made mistakes. Of course they have to be held accountable. Of course they can and should do better. Of course it must be spoken about.

Here is my problem.

The so-called “fans” shamelessly SHITTING on the WHOLE show because of ONE TEASER TRAILER. (btw, this is where I get angry)

I am not talking about the fans making fun of the show and this season’s premise like “Better MCs than Tiff for S7: a romance between the car that almost hit Lucas S3 and the car that hit Arthur S5, or the school’s nurse, or Imane’s dad, or Elu’s rabbit” (that shit’s funny and I’d watch all of these).Or the joke about Wtfock and Skam Fr shaking hands while signing the same contract to disappoint the fans with white MCs (it’s funny cuz it’s trueeeee).

I am not talking about the fans criticizing the producers’ choice of Tiff as MC. There is a difference between shitting on issues and adressing/discussing them. I WANT to talk about how this season’s issue would have been so much better if a woc, specifically a black woman, had been the MC, because black women and doctors are a whole different level of issue than white women and doctors. Add on top of that an unplanned teenage pregnancy? It would have been IMMACULATE. I WANT to talk which wlw couple was better represented, Mayla or Croana/Crisana, and why is that. I WANT to talk about disabilities in black and poc communities. I WANT to talk about headcanons, AUs, to rectify the missed marks. I WANT to talk about our takes on seasons about Max, Sekou and Jo, instead of Tiff’s.

I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT YOUR SHITTY, NEGATIVE, UNHELPFUL, HURTFUL COMMENTS.

Just because the protagonist is white, doesn’t give you ANY right to dismiss the issue that is unplanned teenage pregnancy. This is a problem that affects countries WORLDWIDE. Do you know how many deaths are related to minors giving birth? Do you know how many babies die at birth from these pregnancies? Do you have any idea the trauma it puts you through, to go into labor without even knowing you were pregnant in the first place, and then giving birth, and then having to care for a defensless human being? The dilemma of keeping it, or giving it away? The fear that lives in every person able to give birth, that one day they’ll become pregnant, because society turns sych a shameful look to that? No matter your ethnicity, your gender identity, your sexuality, your political stance or whatever shit you bring up to justify your disgraceful and downright degrading comments, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT A MINOR GIVING BIRTH IS NOT AN ISSUE.

You think the topic has been covered plenty before? Yeah, because shows like “16 and pregnant” and “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant!” are such good examples and show the reality with such an objective point of view!

Bullshit. Teenage pregnancy is still a taboo, it still kills, and people are still morons about it.

“Well I guess everybody is secretly pregnant now!” No, Jessica, but you wouldn’t know about it, would you? Because I wouldn’t tell you shit if you were my “friend” and I was going through it. The whole message of all the Skams is not that it presents super relatable issues of teenagers, although it is a big topic of the show. They present some issues that affect the youth in an authentic light, but that’s not it.

Tous les gens que tu rencontres mènent un combat dont tu ignores tout.

Sois indulgente. Toujours. x x x

Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.

Be kind. Always. x x x

THAT’S THE MESSAGE. THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SHOW.

And you all missed it.

All of you making dead baby jokes and death threats, degrading people who give birth, shaming teenagers for their pregnancies... Listen to yourselves.

“Well she deserves it, she was such a bitch!” No, Michael, you shit stick. Let’s rewind a bit for you, yeah? It was a GOD DAMN TEASER. We literally know nothing! Nothing at all! Why are y’all getting mad when we saw 3:25 minutes representing a whole ass season! Listen to yourselves. Y’all judge so fast for people pretending to love Skam and its authenticity and its motto.

You say Tiff is irredeemable?

Emma cheated on her boyfriend.

Manon lied and manipulated her friends.

Lucas was homophobic and prejudiced agaisnt mentally ill people.

Imane was homophobic too and went behind her friends’ back to get what she wanted.

Arthur cheated on his girlfriend too.

Lola dragged Elliot down with her in her addiction, lied, was verbally abusive, etc.

ALL THE MAINS ARE PROBLEMATIC.

Any guess why?

BECAUSE THEY ARE TEENAGERS. THEY ARE STILL GROWING AND LEARNING.

Yet we still loved them all.

So don’t you dare tell me that Tiff deserves this, that her baby deserves to die, that teenage motherhood is irrelevant. Motherhood is not a curse in the first place, nor is it something to wish to inflict upon anyone. Motherhood is different for every single person and nobody except the person living with it can have an opinion on that. We don’t even know if the baby survived, for God’s sake!

There is no excuse for this kind of behavior..

It makes me so angry. Women are discriminated against in a fandom I thought was safe, again and again and again.

I have to stop here because, well, this is just too much. There is much wrong with Skam (the original AND all the remakes), but there is even more wrong with the fans. I’m done.

You don’t support the show anymore? Fine, then don’t watch it! If I really am wrong, the number of viewers will go down and the show will die, just like you wished. There is no need to be vicious about it.

I hope y’all are proud of your misogyny.

Sincerely,

Adler.

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yunkiwii · 3 years

Text

messy room

Pairing: BF!Yunho x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff დ

Warnings: Language, anxiety

Word Count: 1.7K

DISCLAIMER: Please remember that mental disorders need professional treatment and having a s/o isn’t the solution for those problems. Yes, having someone to support you might help a lot but again, not the solution! If you’re in this situation please please try to get some help, and stay safe! ♡

A/N: reposted from my side blog lemonadewritings (which will be deleted)

I do not own this pic, credits to owner.

Summary: basically (y/n) is having an existencial crisis (same lol) because she just finished college and doesn’t know what to do next. Yunho is the amazing bf who showed up and is a cutie. (I don’t know a better way to put this without spoiling the whole thing).

⇘

“It’s the first Monday at home, with nothing to do since college is over. You graduated last friday, but since we're in the middle of a pandemic you couldn't even celebrate it. It was just over.

“Now go find a job” said your mom enthusiastically, who certainly was tired of being your money provider.

But it is not that simple, and you felt powerless just imagining how hard it would be. Even getting the internship to finish your last year was hard as fuck, imagine trying to get a paid job. You tried to get these thoughts out of your head so that you could get some more sleep.

Pointless. The moment you felt your eyes almost shutting another wild thought popped up.

“I can’t go back to my parents’ house. I cannot go back to that shitty hometown of mine. I won’t be able to handle all that stress and fuss about all aspects of my private life. I need to find a job here, and as soon as possible!!”. You let out a loud sigh and scream into your pillow. It was too frustrating, not knowing what to do next. No one prepared you for this. You were way too focused on graduating and never thought about what you would do next, now you have to deal with your existential crisis.

You turn around again in bed and try to sleep a bit more, once again. You don’t even know what time it is but you’re pretty sure you should be up already, assuming by the sunbeams that have been reflecting into your mirror and back to your face for a while now.

You don’t know how much more time you’ve slept until your doorbell started ringing furiously, but you felt like a truck ran over you and did reverse and ran again. You still got up, this time the frustrating feeling of before is gone. Now you just do not feel a thing. It’s like you’re not there but you’re aware of everything, it’s like someone had put you in automatic mode.

You finally got to the door, and the doorbell only stopped when you opened it. A small feeling of warmth ran over your body as soon as you saw that it was Yunho, your boyfriend. You’ve never seen that expression on his face though. It was a mixture of worry and relieve.

“(y/n) are you okay?? Did something happen? It’s already 2 pm and you haven’t texted me back nor answered the phone!” As he says this, with a bit of panic in his voice, he gives you the biggest hug ever. You reluctantly hug him back, resting your forehead in his shoulder.

“My phone must have died during the night.. I-I was sleeping..”, you stutter feeling a bit dizzy and out of yourself.

Yunho pulls away to look at your face and gives you a little smile. He shuts the door and walks with you to your bedroom, his hand on your lower back guiding you and giving the soft feeling of support. You still feel like you’re not there, so you don't even notice the face Yunho makes when he sees the mess your room is. He immediately realises that you are in fact not okay. Hell, he realised it as soon as you opened the door but the state of your bedroom and the fact you were sleeping until now, those were major indicators of an anxiety crisis attacking you.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” the tall boy holds your arm helping you onto the bed again, seeming even taller now, “You wanna talk?”

He sat next to you in your bed and held your hands, giving you a look of comprehension and empathy. You looked at him and in your mind your thoughts started running a 1000 miles per hour and you couldn’t focus on one. But you knew that externally you just looked blank. The panic going on inside your mind didn’t trespass to your skin and you were living it alone. You wanted to tell Yunho but you didn’t know how, so you just shook your head negatively and snuggled next to him.

You both stayed like that for a while. His left arm over your shoulder, your face buried in his chest and his right hand caressing your thigh softly. Yunho knew you well enough to not talk or do anything else until you were ready for it.

The smell of your boyfriend's freshly washed clothes mixed with his calm heartbeat helped you to calm your mind a bit, and a couple of minutes later you finally found the guts and the words to talk.

“I’m not feeling well Yunho.. but.. I.. I.. don’t know how to explain.. and…”, your thoughts started rambling again and you couldn’t finish your sentence.

“It’s okay (y/n)..”, Yunho held you tighter and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, resting his chin over your head while you let a tear slip and roll down to his light blue hoodie, your heart racing.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” you shook your head, still buried in his chest. “So I assume you didn’t take your meds either…?” once again, you don’t look at him, only shook your head no. You notice that he is clearly worried, and you know he is also a bit mad that you didn’t take your medicine. And yet he keeps talking to you in a calm tone, knowing too well that getting angry at you wouldn’t do any good.

He gets up holding your hand and the biggest smile he could pull off, indicating that he wants you to go with him. You groan, not wanting to leave the only place where you can feel comfort even when this big storm his happening inside you.

“Come on, (y/n)! Your room stinks, we need to open a window!” He chuckled and that actually made you smile for a second. Looking up to his adorable puppy eyed face you couldn’t just say no, so you stood up. “And you have to eat!”

Yunho led you all the way to the couch in your living room, way tidier than your bedroom which made you realise that you had been living in a big fat mess the past couple of days. Your boyfriend worked over the weekend and your roommate had moved out last week, leaving you all alone to your thoughts.

In the meantime, you asked Yunho to order pizza from your favourite place, and he made you promise you would take your meds and keep your phone alive for now on. You kissed his cheek as a way of sealing the deal and both of you smiled. Your heart was still racing and your mind a mess, but you decided that you would never want to leave your boyfriend this worried about you again, it wasn’t fair. So, you took your meds, ate pizza with him and fell asleep (again) while watching a random movie that was on at the time.

When you woke up, for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, you were alone, the TV was pitch black and you had a warm cozy red blanket wrapped around you like a burrito. You felt so comfortable and calm, all your thoughts of before settled down. You were still a bit overwhelmed, but nothing compared to this morning. You concentrated to try and figure out any sound that would give away Yunho’s presence in your apartment. But nothing. All you could hear was the raindrops hitting the window.

It was darker now, and you picked up your phone from the coffee table, now fully charged. You don’t remember putting it there nor charging it, so you assumed Yunho did it for you. The thought of him taking care of you made you blush and your heart skipped a beat, even though you have been dating for almost a year now. He simply had that much power over you, and every time you’re with him you still feel like it’s the first time, falling for him over and over again.

You texted your boyfriend thanking him for everything and apologising for your behaviour. You get embarrassed whenever this happens and you can’t get out of it for yourself. You never wanted to feel dependent on someone else and had always taken care of your problems alone, so having someone else to help you always makes you feel guilty, like you’re a burden to them.

Your phone lit up.

Yunho: YOU ARE NOT A BURDEN!

Yunho: Sorry for yelling at you.

Yunho: I love you (y/n)! I just came to the dorm to pick up some of my stuff. I’ll sleep at your place tonight ;)

Yunho: Oh, and I’ll cook dinner! Don’t do anything until I get there! See you soon babe xx

You smiled like a little kid and a bunch of butterflies battled each other inside you. “I love you, Yunho.”, you texted back.

You felt bad for him doing all this for you and wanted to give something back, so you headed to the kitchen to bake him his favourite dessert. You left the cake cooking in the oven and went to take a shower and clean your bedroom. When you got to your room you couldn’t believe your eyes. Your bed was neatly made with clean sheets, the bowl of old cereals was gone, your books were all organized as well as your desk. The clothes that were all scattered around the room before were also gone. It looked so clean and smelled like vanilla, your favourite scent. You were indeed really lucky.

You were about to call Yunho when you hear the front door open, he must have taken your keys. You ran to him and threw your arms around his neck kissing him like there was no tomorrow. He was caught of guard and stumbled back into the closed door, letting the bags in his hands fall onto the floor. You could feel him smile during the kiss and his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you even closer.

“I don’t deserve you Jeong Yunho.” You say as you pull back to look at the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. Both of you all smiles and giggles.

“Glad to know I have my girl back.”

It still amazes you how the simple presence of one person could make you feel this good, all your worries pushed aside for later.

♡MASTERLIST♡

net: @ateezlovenet

#reposted from lemonadewritings #ateezlovenet #yunho fluff #ateez yunho fluff #yunho au #yunho x reader

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elysiashelby · 4 years

Text

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 13

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5,851

WARNINGS: ANGST, HEAVY ANGST, Alcohol Consumption, Cursing, Recreational Drug Use, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, Mentions of SMUT (doesn’t concern any of the main characters)

Summary: Aliena Welsh hasn’t gotten any better. Her mental health is in the dumps and she’s coping with alcohol and drugs. How will she recover?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 14

A/N: THERE IS A SCENE OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. YOU READ ALL OF HER THOUGHTS LEADING UP TO THIS POINT & I DO BELIEVE IT TO BE VERY TRIGGERING!! THERE WILL BE BLACK LINE BREAKS TO START THE SCENE. Not a whole lot of Tommy in this one.

That night on me birthday, I blacked out. Couldn’t remember a thing, but I do remember feeling like shit the next morning. Not just from the raging hangover, but emotionally as well. I’ve never truly understood how fuckin’ shitty it is to wake up with no fuckin’ memories of the night before.

But now I did!

The days after I attempted to cut down me drinking as suggested by Polly. I kept to it as much as I could, but I just turned to other vices when we went out. Instead of drinking, I was getting high. Same effect really except I was more affectionate than ever and wasn’t getting weepy.

Problem with weed? It made me sexually aroused a.k.a. horny. I started dancing with strangers. Men and women. I was truly not giving one flying fuck.

And it was scaring me.

I managed to get past the whole debacle of me assaulting that woman at the Garrison. Talked to Polly abar it, ya know, some of me troubles. Really made some headway. She started wanting me to work in the shop more.

Couldn’t tell ya why, though.

I didn’t mind, it kept me busy for a while. That was ‘til Polly told me she didn’t need me in the shop for sometime. So, now— I was stuck collecting money every fortnight, cleaning the house, cooking, and be an all-round delivery girl.

Have you ever heard of the saying, “High highs are followed by low lows.” Let me tell you abar the low blow I was dealt. I caught Tommy banging Lizzie.

Drop the mic!

Yeah! I caught the first love of me life having sex with a prostitute. Not knocking her down, a girl has to earn her coin somehow. It was the fact that Tom was paying for sex that got me. He would rather pay than use me.

Let me tell you the number that did on me self-esteem. I didn't want to make it matter, but it did. It was irrational, in a way. I knew that. It was just that I was so hung up on him and I couldn't find it in meself to let go of him, yet. It was absolutely pathetic. I realize that, but I was also used to it. Used to the ones that I want not wanting me.

Oh well! I mean I wasn’t obsessing over it, but it did hurt me heart, is all. It also served as a turning point for me. Now, I wasn’t just dancing with random fellas— I was making out with them too.

Kissing didn’t matter to me anymore. Ever since me first kiss was stolen by that bastard two years ago, or so.

I didn’t let it go any further. I was just making out with them. Men and women. Anyone who would have me.

I was laying in me bed. I didn’t feel like leaving it. So, I didn’t. I kept me eyes shut and was getting lost in me own world. I fantasized abar being back with me family. That I had woken up in de’ ozzy from a coma ‘n I made all of this up.

“Aliena, love. You need to get up now.” Polly whispered as she shook me gently.

I opened me eyes and blinked. I faked waking up for the first time today. I hummed.

“Come on, love.” She urged while uncovering me and taking me hand.

With our hands joined, I turned ‘round and rose to me feet. She took me head in her grasp before using the back of the head to check me temperature.

She tutted. “You don’t have a fever. Do you feel sick, Ali?”

I nodded, lying. She sighed and pulled me into her chest. I hugged her tightly while whimpering. It was better this way.

We stayed that way for a while before she pulled away. Me face in her hands again. “How ‘bout I make ya some soup? You go on back to bed and I call you when it’s done. Yeah?”

I nodded with a small smile. She led me back to me bed and tucked me in. I said nothing as the tears streamed down me face. When she left, I closed me eyes again.

I’m so tired.

When the soup was ready, she got me up as promised and helped me down. I was acting and not at the same time. I was just showing how I really felt. I knew tomorrow I would have to bottle it all up again.

It was just that I already used up all me rest days just laying around, so this was a better cover.

She sat with me as I slowly nibbled away at the soup she made me. I didn’t care for it. I wanted me ma’s chicken soup. We made small chat ‘til I was done and I was sent back to bed afterward.

I laid there doing nothing ‘til I felt like I was going stir crazy. I leaped from me bed and pulled out me journal that was full of me writings. Only once I had the pen in me hand, I couldn’t think of anything.

I threw it down and ran me hands over me face. I began doin’ some heavy breathing before I took a deep breath and just suppressed it. I just suppressed it ‘cause I felt like I was being overdramatic.

I do so much complaining. I should be grateful. I should be grateful for what I have. Why was I so miserable?

Because I wasn’t in a relationship with Tommy, don’t make me laugh! He’s just one man.

Is it because I’m not with me family? Come on, after all that wishing to experience something more exciting in me life!

Fucking kinel! I was lucky enough to be found by Jeremiah and not be chucked into some mental asylum or in a prison cell for being suspicious. For not having to sell me own body in order to make ends meet. No, nothing has changed. I’m still that sheltered little girl who is just so ungrateful.

I inhaled sharply and gripped me hair tightly.

Just so greedy. Just so lustful. So fuckin’ ungrateful.

“No!” I shouted before I slapped meself. The stinging sensation overwhelmed me and balanced me. I swallowed harshly before racking me head for a song.

I sang ‘Empty’ by Olivia O’Brien to meself. I sang a million of other depressing songs ‘til me head ached. Then, I sat there. Just sat there. Letting the stories that ran through me mind play out there since I couldn’t write them.

But even they weren’t bringing me joy. Awful scenarios triumphed the love stories I was trying to conjure. They would just turn sour with infidelity, broken promises, and death.

I placed me bent elbows on me desk and used me hands to support me head. I closed me eyes as a way to fight the burning in me eyes.

As soon as I woke up, I choked down a sigh. I just turned on me back and ran a hand threw me hair. After a second or two, I got up and began getting ready for the day. For the past couple of days, I’ve been waking up with anxiety. I haven’t felt this way since being in school.

College was different. I had more freedoms, but years six through eleven— they were absolute hell for me. It just triggered me anxiety disorders, especially me agoraphobia.

I looked at meself in the mirror and saw a dead woman. I placed me fingers under me eyes, tugged down, and then let go. I took a sharp breath before I opened the door and walked out.

I was finding it harder to breathe these days. Like if me asthma was back, or gotten worse. Which would be totally plausible since I have been smoking ciggies now. Still pace meself, though.

I had me hair in a bun, some hairs framing me face. I was wearing a light purple button up shirt with a darker purple, high-waisted midi skirt.

I walked down and cut me two slices of bread. I was gonna eat me regular bread and jam. I sat down ‘n ate it. When I was done, I began to clean up again. The same old routine. Sweep, dust, fold, sew, shine, or wash.

I was in the middle of fixing one of Finn’s shirts when he walked in, panting. His lips smacked before he spoke. “Tom-Tommy wants to see you.”

“What is it, Finn?” I asked while rising to me feet. What the fuck’s happened? “What’s happened?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was out with Isaiah, came in and he told me he wanted me to get you.”

I let out a sigh of relief before annoyance took over me. I shoved his head away from me. “Dear lord, Finn. I thought something bad happened! Ugh!” I walked past him and into the shop.

The chatter of men overwhelmed me senses. I marched over to Tommy’s office and knocked before going in.

“Finn said you needed me.” I stood up straight with me shoulder rolled back. Me fingers were interlocked and resting at me waist.

Thomas nodded as he took a drag from his ciggie. “I need you to deliver this to Moss.” He looked up as he held up the package for me to take.

It was probably hush money to distribute, or his own allowance to keep him quiet, or something else.

I blinked furiously as I stepped forward and attempted to take the package from his hand.

Okay, the fuck is happening?

Tommy kept looking at me up and down and wouldn’t let go of the package. I cleared me throat and he let go instantly.

“Right. I need you to give that to him as soon as possible. So, it’s best if you go now.” He looked away from me and back down at his paperwork.

“Right.” I repeated softly before turning ‘round. As I stood in the doorway, I held onto the wall and snapped me head to Tommy.

“Tommy.”

He looked up, his eyes wide. “Yeah?”

I thought abar it. I wanted to ask what that was all abar. I cleared me throat before gulping and shake me head. “Nevermind. Have a good rest of your day, Tom.”

I didn’t wait to hear a response. I practically ran out of there. I got me coat and then out the door. The cold air stung me face, but I welcomed it. After all, that interaction got me all warm inside.

I didn’t want to think abar it too hard. I had negative and positive thoughts. Maybe he thought I looked nice, but at the same time— maybe he saw what I’ve been hiding too. I remembered abar that promise we made on December 3rd. Abar how I would go to him if me depression was getting bad, but—! I didn’t sit right with me. How could I complain abar all of me problems when he was unknowingly one of them?

I sighed and clutched the package tighter. Men and women alike greeted me as I passed. After the bar “fight,” some stares and greetings changed. I didn’t care.

Why should I? They probably bunched me in with the rest of the Blinders, now. Might call me a devil too, now.

I huffed. Well, as long as they kept their thoughts to themselves. A bizzy held open the door for me, so I flashed them a nod ‘n smile. I walked through the building ‘n ignored the stares. I walked over to Moss’s office and knocked.

“Come in.” He shouted.

I opened the door and walked in. Moss, instantly, sat up straight.

“Ms. Welsh.” He began. “What can I do for ya?”

With the package still in one hand, I thrusted it forward, bouncing it a little. “Mr. Shelby has a delivery for you.”

He ah-ed, rose from his seat, and took it. “Thank you. Miss. My wife was just saying the other day how she missed your company. She’d be very pleased if you visited her soon.”

I smiled and nodded. “Oh, well, I’ll make sure to stop by soon. Good afternoon, Sergeant Moss.” I nodded again and turned ‘round.

I felt the stares and heard the whispers as I walked. As walked out of the station, as I walked home.

I shook me head as I raised me fingers to me head. Whispers, gossip, chisme. It was all so fucking annoying. Me days were blending together. Day in and day out, I was just lethargic. Having to force meself to do all this stuff was so tiring.

But what else am I going to do? I’m so useless.

I was letting the music in me head envelope me. With me hands, I moved me hair to the side as I danced. I was hot. Like feverishly hot, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t thinking abar anything but dancing.

I felt someone take their hands in mine, so I opened me eyes. Cassie was in front of me.

“Dance with me.” She yelled before she started doing the Charleston.

I giggled and then began to do it with her. For this type of dancing, I had to tune in on the club music. The club we were at right now was owned by Sabini. Luckily, no one knew me face. Otherwise, we might have been kicked out or worse.

Well, actually, since there was no bad blood yet… I might’ve just been used as a tool for some sort of deal. Ya know, a messenger or something.

When I felt tired, I gulped for air and stopped dancing. As did Cassie. We walked into each other. Why do we fucking wear heels all the damn time? I want me trainers back!

“Let’s go back to the table, yeah.” I announced more than asked. I led Cassie back to the table where Angie and Tina were sitting with men.

I rolled me eyes. Here we fuckin’ go. “Angie!” I shouted. “We’re back. You can hit the floor if ya want.” Angie’s eyes snapped to Tina, excitement all over her face. Tina’s facial expression spoke volumes, “She didn’t want to leave the table.” But she gave a sheepish smile, and nodded instead.

“Thanks, Ali.” She said to me before looking down at her new friend. “You want to dance with me?” She asked him to which he happily took her hand. Then, the four of them were gone.

I let out a sigh of relief and sat down with me legs open.

Cassie snorted. “You’re so ungraceful.”

I tsked while waving her off. “Do one. I’m tired.” I reached for me glass of water. I wasn’t gonna be drinking alcohol for a while. However, I did reach into me bag and took out a rolled joint along with me lighter.

I lit it up and took a puff. I held it for as long as I could before exhaling. This wasn’t wise. I’ve already smoke so much, but I didn’t want to come down from me high— so, I was lightin’ up again.

“You got cards?” I asked before exhaling another puff.

Cassie shook two fingers as she replied. “Yeah, in my purse.”

I passed her the joint. Probably shouldn’t have since she was drinking too, but fuck it! She was a grown woman.

I sniffed and wiped me nose. Cassie took out the cards with one hand before getting frustrated since she couldn’t get them open. She passed me back the joint before taking one last puff. I took it as a chance to take another drag.

Cassie got the cards out and began to shuffle them. “So, what game are we playing?”

I shrugged. “Want to play Go Fish?”

Cassie chuckled while meeting me gaze. “That’s your favorite game, isn’t it.”

I shrugged again, exhaling while stubbing out the joint. “Easiest to play. That’s all.” So, that’s what we did ‘til I found meself getting more ‘n more sluggish. I felt the imaginary hand squeeze me heart as much as it was racing. That sense of dread better known as a cold sweat.

Before I knew it, I passed out.

When I came too, I felt a cold towel on me forehead. Slowly, I reached for it and dragged it off me face. I moaned as I sat up straight in me chair. I looked to me right to see Cassie chatting up some guy.

My moan caught her attention.

“Oh, good, you woke up, Ali. You smoked too much weed again. I got you a towel from the bar while you were passed out. Just stay there for a while. This is Henry.” Cassie motioned to Harry who greeted me.

Through squinted eyes, I nodded at him and gave him a little wave. I turned me attention back on the wet towel. I placed it back on me forehead and just looked ‘round. People were dancing, sitting and having a chat, and others were just drinking. Well, okay. I didn’t want to pay attention to it, but there were people having sex ‘n doing a whole bunch of exhibitionist acts.

I stifled a laugh at meself while covering me mouth. I swear this place is always a madhouse, but it was very freeing too. People were just free here. It made me feel like I fit in.

The bad thing abar sitting down by yourself when you’re high, for me, is that I start thinking. Thinking while high isn’t good. ‘Cause what you find out is that you don’t feel pain all that much. If you catch my drift.

I sighed. The same thoughts that’s been haunting me kept repeating in me head. The same stuff as always.

Why was I here? What was my purpose? What was I going to do with my life now? ‘Cause honestly, I was a 22-year-old Hispanic English-American, who was working on her first book as well as beginning the process of having a baby. I was going to have a baby.

And now, I’m here. Getting high and drinking meself ‘til I blacked out. I was having anxiety attacks under the same roof of the man I’ve been obsessing over since 2013!

My whole life plan was fucked. I’m stuck in the 1920s where Women’s rights are not the highest priority. Fuck, my children are probably gonna be put through the second world war.

I sighed loudly as I pinched me nose and started bouncing me leg. I let the towel fall off me head and onto the table. I picked up back up and started wiping me neck with it.

I miss my family and friends. I want the comfort of being in my own home back. The feeling of security. I knew that no matter what my family would be there for me always. But here, here everything was conditional. Everything came at a price.

Doesn’t it?

I mean, yeah, it does.

I stopped wiping and got up. Me chair scraped loudly against the floor. I got up too quickly. Me vision went black and I had to sit down again. I stifled the moans that wanted to escape me mouth out of embarrassment and pride.

When me vision cleared, I got up again. Slower this time. Then, I began to make my way over to the bar.

“Oi!” I shouted. The bartender looked toward my direction. I raised the towel and he walked over to me. “I wanted to give this back. Don’t need it anymore. Thanks.”

He took it from me hand while nodding. “No problem, miss.”

I nodded while taping the bar top rhythmically before turning ‘round and walked back to the table.

I have no idea what time it is. I don’t care. I fucked up. I groaned and doubled over.

“Get the fuck up, Ali.” Cassie slurred.

“Do one, slag.” I replied while trying to push her away.

She tsked. “You fuckin’ first. We’re almost at your stupid house.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Bitch.”

“No you.”

We glared at each other before busting out laughing. I started kicking me feet.

“I’m gonna piss meself!” I shouted. “I’m gonna-! I’m gonna piss meself!”

Cassie cackled even harder while clutching me arm with a death grip. I said “ow,” very childishly as I tried to pry her grip off me.

Anyway, I drank. I stupidly drank and was also high. I can’t describe the feeling except that I am extremely tired and numb.

I slumped to the side and tried holding me head up, but failed. I groaned loudly as me head slipped from me hand. I shot back up and held my stomach. I felt like I was gonna be sick.

I pried open the window and stuck out me head.

“Get in, you dummy.” Cassie shouted as she tried to claw me back inside. Her nails only leaving a little bit of sting. It was enough for me to register that she was doing it.

I breathed slowly and deeply. I tried making the cold wind sober me up. But then the clawing got annoying, so I shook off the heel of my left foot and used it to push her away.

I could faintly hear her groan. Should’ve known that wouldn’t have stopped her. She started pulling on me leg. I rolled me eyes and got back into the car.

“I was trying to feel better, Cass!” I shouted in face.

She pouted angrily, like a child, before burying her face in me breasts. I sighed and started stroking her hair. I did it for so long that I didn’t even realize we had made it to me house.

“Ms. Welsh, we’ve arrived.” Simmons repeated.

“Huh? Oh, okay.” I looked ‘round the car ‘n saw that everyone was passed out. I loudly stifled me laughter. “Simmons, they, uh.”

“I know, Ms. Welsh. I can take care of it.” He smiled at me through the rear-view mirror.

I trusted him as much as Cassie trusted him. He came with her and her father from America. He’s been with their family for a long time.

So, I nodded and slipped out from under Cassie slowly. I opened the car door with the same pace and then stumbled out. I was flailing abar like fucking Bambi! I gasped when I was able to balance meself. I took a deep breath and then tapped on the hood of the car.

“Thank you, Simmons.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Welsh. Goodnight.”

“You too.” I said before giving him a salute and turning ‘round. I trudged over to the door and shifted through me purse for the keys. I groaned impatiently when I couldn’t find them right away.

Once I did, I cheered and unlocked the door. I stumbled through, me heels clacking against the floor. As I was taking off me coat, I noticed a coat that’s not often there. Along with a very familiar shoulder holster.

A whisper escaped my lips as me fingertips carefully touched the items. “Tommy.”

I slowly walked into the living room and saw that there was a fire lit along with a glass on the table. I walked even slower toward the couch, me heart in me throat. I looked over it and sure enough, he was sleeping on the couch.

I smiled with scoff. I, immediately, turned ‘round and slowly went upstairs. I didn’t want to disturb his sleep. Hardly gets any as it is.

As I closed my door, I let out a sigh of relief. I looked down and cured. “Fuck! I forgot to hang up me coat.” I tsked and ripped it off me. I threw it on me chair. I crossed me arms and took off my dress. I had to fight with it a little, though. I left it on the floor and walked to my closet.

I took out my matching white nightgown and robe. I put them both on. I tied the robe tightly around me stomach and then began taking the pins out of me hair. I trudged over to my desk and threw them on there.

I shook out me hair and finally looked at meself in the mirror. I smiled at meself softly. If there was something I was absolutely confident abar meself, it was me hair. I smiled again before looking down and getting the stuff I needed to take off all this makeup.

Once I was done, I walked over to me bed and sat down on it. I wasn’t tired anymore. So, I just sat there. I shuffled over the window and just looked. I would strain me eyes so much that black dots would appear and I would frighten meself.

What am I doing here? Why am I here? How is ma and papa doing? Are they grieving over me? How abar me friends? Did they know I was gone? Did anyone? Was this real? This is real, right?

Calm down, Aliena. That’s not your name. I took a deep breath. That’s not your name! You are not 18-years-old. Why is your body like this? Why can I do things that I couldn’t do before?

I raised me hand to me head.

What am I doing? How long am I going to wait for Tommy to look at me? How long am I going to stay with this family? Should I just move in with Cassie? No, no that’s wrong.

No, this is wrong.

Stop being so irrational. You’re just feeling depressed, right now. You’ll get over this soon. You’re overreacting.

But what if I’m not?

When Grace comes back, will Tommy still sleep with her? Does he love her as intensely as he did on the show?

Why would you think anything else? Well, we used to be close. Used to be! He made it clear many nights ago that you were to be married to someone else. He doesn’t like you like that!

I whimpered and gripped me head tighter. Me feet going back and forth on the bed, messing up my blankets.

Even if he did, you’re too insecure. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you’d be worried. Worried every time he left that door. Every time he had a far off thought. “Are you thinking of her?” You’d think. “Did you cheat on me?” You ask. “If you ever cheat on me, I’ll kill you.” You’d threaten.

Toxic, toxic, toxic.

Should I try to go back?

My eyes shot open and I gasped.

Should I try to go back? Maybe this is all a very complicated dream. If I die, then maybe I’ll wake up in my room at home. I see me ma’ sitting in the living room with her dogs. Papa would be in his room working or with her in the living room. I’d see my baby niece.

I gulped. I put down me hands and noticed they were shaking.

Things here aren’t that great. I’m not close to Tommy anymore. I’m depressed and I can’t recall most days. I’m drinking meself half to death. I should just…

I looked at the door with wide eyes. I felt tears sting me eyes. I took a shuddering breath and slowly, me feet touched the floor. I gasped and a tear fell from me eye. I walked toward me door and slowly opened it.

I savored every creak of the door. When I deemed that I opened it enough to slip through, I stopped and did just that. I twirled ‘round and closed it with just as much care. I walked past Tommy’s door with ease since he was downstairs.

I was at the top of the stairs when it hit me.

Should I leave a note?

I raised me hand to my mouth and nibbled on my fingernail. I shook me head, deciding against it.

I went down the stairs, one step at a time. Each more daunting than the last. I didn’t want to risk waking up Thomas. When I got to the last step, I let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

I tiptoed across the room all the way to the door. I went to get me coat and mentally cursed meself.

I left it upstairs.

I looked back at the stairs. My face contorted in discomfort. I looked back at the rack and stared at Tommy’s coat and shoulder holster. I then shifted my gaze to the couch where he laid.

I took a deep breathe and raised me hands at a snail’s pace. I took the holster into me hands and carefully lifted it up. I put it on with little difficulty. I thought I would have trouble since I saw Tommy having some from time to time.

The holster was empty. I knew it would be. I took a deep breath and tip-toed over to where Tommy laid. There on the little table was the gun. I held me breath as I walked closer.

I was in front of him now. I couldn’t stare. He would feel it. ‘Cause of the war. I reach down and quickly snatched the gun. I didn’t waste a second as I quickly walked back to his coat. With the gun clenched tightly in me hand, I exhaled as silently as I could. Me mouth opened wide as I slowly let the breath out.

When I didn’t see his head pop up, I swallowed me worries. I placed the gun in the holster and then hurriedly put on the coat.

It was so big on me. Me hands were lost in the sleeves and it reached me mid-thigh.

I could admire it later. I blinked and made my way to the door. I gripped the handle with a strength I didn’t know I had. Me hands shook as I slowly unlocked the door. Then, I opened it with just as much care.

Just like I’d done earlier, I slipped through the sliver. Once the door was shut, I let go an audible exhale. I looked ‘round me and instantly felt paranoid. I walked fast and looked at no one.

I brought the sleeves to me face. I took in the scent.

Cigarettes. It smelt of cigarettes and his cologne. I used to associate the smell of ciggie with me gran, but now— I was surrounded by smokers. The scent, I would think, would evade my nose since it was so common. I just adapted to it.

I took in the sights as I walked past them.

This maybe the very last time I walk these cobblestone steps. This last time I set eyes on these houses. No more gossips, no more whispers.

I took another gasp for air and quickened my pace.

I kept feeling like someone was chasing me.

There was this burn in me legs. They were begging for me to stop, but I was used to it. It reminded me of the times I would feel this burn in me legs when I walked to and from school.

So, I marched on all the way ‘til I reached my special place. When my parents’ headstones were in sight, it got very real. I was going to attempt committing suicide again. It was like white noise filled me head as I walked up to them.

I dropped to me knees when I stood in front of their headstones. Me hands instinctively began to trace their names.

Memories of them began to flash in me head. From when I was little to just, what, two years ago now. I have a feeling the childhood memories were fabricated, though. I hardly have any positive memories of that time. I lost them to my depression.

I sucked in breath and exhaled, shakily with my cheeks puffed.

I just kept thinking abar their faces. How much I missed them. That brought on longing for me friends. I met them in high school ‘n they meant everything to me. I thought they would see my babies. They wanted to be there for me ‘n now…

I let out a curt laugh to meself as I bent me head, in shame. Slowly, I got off me knees and sat on me bum. I brought me trembling hand to where the gun was. It was cold in me grasp.

I took it out. The holster made a noise as I did so. I held it with both hands.

My breathing got quicker and I felt more and more fear.

I was going to die. What if I die? What if I die and don’t wake up? What if I don’t see my parents’ again after all and I just threw away my life?

Isn’t that what you wanted! I mean you’re depressed, aren’t you!

Yes, but no. I had things I wanted to do before I died.

So, why are you doing this?

“Because I’m so fucking tired.” I sobbed as I raised my forearms to hide me face. I brought my knees to me chest as well.

I let out an “oooh” before blowing the rest of the exhale out.

Well, then what abar the Shelbys’? How will they react when they find my body? Will they weep? Will they hold a funeral? Will I change things?

I choked on a sob. Then, it hit me. Like a fucking revelation an idea struck me.

Let’s leave this to a high power. I don’t care who. God, Fortuna, Tyche, or just the laws that controlled fucking chance.

I opened up the cylinder, spread me legs, and emptied out the chamber. I let the bullets fall on me dress. I took the bullets and set them aside one by one. I held that sixth bullet in me palm. I rolled it ‘round in me palm.

This very bullet will decide my fate. It completely holds the fate of my life. This little thing.

I slid it back into a chamber, closed me eyes, spun the cylinder, and then snapped it closed. I opened me eyes ‘n a tear fell out.

When debating suicide, I only accepted two ways. Overdosing on sleeping pills and a bullet to the head, no pain. Peaceful.

I laid down between the headstones of my parents and looked up at the sky. Tree branches were slightly in the way, but it made for a beautiful picture. Tears were falling out of me eyes more now. Blurred me vision, but I didn’t care. I liked the way me tears rolled down me face.

Slowly, I raised the gun to me temple. I inhaled sharply and held it as cocked the gun. A sob wracked my body.

I placed me finger on the trigger gently. Thoughts in me head were racing a hundred miles per hour.

I kept apologizing to everyone that ever mattered to me. The Shelbys, my friends here, my family, and my friends there.

I licked my lips, threw my head back against the ground, and gasped. I closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. “Tommy,” was left unsaid.

Then, I pulled the trigger.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero @thatweirddaydreamer

#thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #in another world #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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tinamaetales · 3 years

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Fine, not fine

When the pandemic broke out in 2020, I was left with nothing to do. Our WFH arrangement during those times is not something I consider as a heavy workload so most of the time I just find myself alone with my own thoughts – which is one of the scariest scenarios for me. To kill time and distract myself from my own self-destructive thoughts, I decided to watch documentaries on Youtube but there really isn’t enough for me so despite not having a huge salary, I decided to subscribe to Netflix and from then on, I was able to watch a lot of movies, series and documentaries. I really wanna write a reflection on each of the stuff I’ve watched but I’m too lazy these days (and yet, here I am writing one).

As I mentioned, I watched a lot of stuff on Netflix but the last three that I’ve watched lately (before I start being invested with American Horror Story series), Angel’s Last Mission: Love, The Good Place, and Mystic Pop-up Bar tend to have a common theme – life, death, afterlife. I didn’t even do it on purpose; I was just really interested in the plot of their stories. What these 3 shows have in common is that they discuss about the morality and consequences and these days, I’m really interested in those topics. Lately, I’ve been questioning myself about what kind of person I am – am I good or bad? I also keep on having an internal debate with myself as to whether or not there is an afterlife and if there is, then where will I end up? Heaven or hell? Those questions are kinda giving me some headache these days but at least it’s a good distraction from my own self-destructive thoughts. Somehow, Philosophy seems interesting to me now (during my College years, I dreaded that subject but still managed to get a 1.25 final grade lol). Anyway, here are my thoughts about the shows:

Angel’s Last Mission: Love

Major lesson: Keep the faith

This kdrama has such a beautiful way of presenting its story that you will fall in love with it in just the first episode! (Also because Kim Myung Soo’s dimples are to die for, omg I’m so in love) Anyway, this drama’s plot is interesting: an angel who disobeyed the law (he’s not allowed to meddle with the lives of humans especially since he’s a guardian angel for animals) on his last day was given the most difficult mission – to make the fallen ballerina know what love is. As I am writing this, I can’t help but feel emotional because the show knows how to attack one’s heart. I will not be telling more of its plot for I might end up spoiling it so I’ll just provide my major take away from this kdrama. (This is one of those kdramas that I can watch again and again coz it’s beautiful)

I was raised in Catholic faith, which is really not a surprise for a Filipino like me since this country is heavily influenced by the Catholic Church, but ever since I’ve become an adult and finally opened my eyes and allow myself to stop living under the notorious gaslighting of people around me, I struggled with my faith in God. It’s really difficult living a traumatized life. In 2018, I seek for professional help and was diagnosed with Dysthymia and Social Anxiety Disorder. And despite therapy and medication, I have not yet healed and sometimes feel like my situation is getting worse. As such, I felt so alone in my struggles which became the reason why I relate to Yeon Seo’s character. People labeled her as a cold bitch and most of them are expecting her to just move on and heal without fully understanding where she is coming from. When Yeon Seo said “Do you know what it feels like to be left behind? It feels like I’m abandoned alone in an endless desert” it hit close to home. I know that one’s pain should not be an excuse for acting up and being mean but people should also understand that healing is different for all of us – we heal at our own pace at our own time. Pain can change a person – I know it fully well for I’ve become a completely different person because of all the pain I’ve been through. But what this show taught me is that God is a merciful God and He will not let us be drown into the abyss of darkness…..somehow, He will make a way to get us back on track and sometimes it’s in ways we never imagined it to be. Like how they sent angel Kim Dan into Yeon Seo’s life, God will also be sending us the answer to our prayers for He loves us and He is the only one who will never give up on us – even though we gave up on ourselves.

The Good Place

Major lesson: There is hope for humanity

I’ve been obsessed with sitcoms since 2019 (if I remember the year correctly) for they’re easy to watch and just fun but I never expected that a sitcom will make me become philosophical and somehow question my own morality: am I a good person?

For a show with only four seasons and fifty-three episodes, The Good Place sets the bar high for a sitcom. It did not drag its plotline but is able to tell the entire story in a way that leaves the viewers satisfied with it. The Good Place is a story *SPOILER ALERT* that revolves around the afterlife lives of the four main characters: Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani, and Jason who all end up in the “good place” because they earned enough points on Earth but there’s a catch, two of them are not actually meant to be in the good place. Eleanor and Jason both mistakenly went to the good place because they died at almost the same time as someone with the same name as them but the other two actually deserved to be in the good place. The dilemma started when Eleanor admitted the truth to Chidi, a Philosophy professor who specialized in Ethics for he is torn between helping them or snitching on them. But perhaps the biggest plot twist of all, *SERIOUSLY STOP READING IF YOU DON’T WANT ANY MORE SPOILERS* they are not really in the good place. All four of them are in the Bad Place disguised as the good place and they were specifically chosen to torture each other, just like what Jean Paul Sartre said, “Hell is other people” Now this gets interesting because while none of these four people have committed heinous crimes which can then make them deserving of a spot in the bad place, the actions they’ve done during their lifetime on earth has bearing. At first I find it surprising how Chidi and Tahani end up in the bad place considering that Chidi spent his life in the pursuit of goodness and Tahani is a philanthropist who raised millions of dollars for charities. But then, as the show progressed, I understood. Chidi’s vast knowledge of morality made him become an indecisive person which led towards the suffering of others. Chidi made other people suffer because he finds it difficult to make a choice. On Tahani’s part, she raised millions of dollars to help improve the lives of others but such is a self-serving interest – she did not do those things because she wanted to help but because she wants to make herself look good. On Eleanor’s part, while she did not commit serious crimes, she was a big ass jerk towards others during her time on earth. With Jason, although he is kind, his actions often lead to disasters and although unintentional, harm towards others. With these in mind, I guess it’s safe to say that humans are doomed for the things we do are most of the time self-serving. It’s hard to make it to the Good Place because in one way or another, we do some things that affect others in a negative way. But what this show also taught me is that while it’s true that hell is other people……humans have a chance to improve and be better when given the proper environment as well as when they help each other out. Just like what Michael said “The point is, people improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don’t?”

At first, this show kind of made me realized that I’ve been a bad person….that most of the decisions I’ve made in life are self-serving….I only do things that benefit me and I could not care less about other people but my biggest realization here is that, I acted this way because my unhealed pain and trauma is manifesting itself. I have been hurt way too much that it made me become a bad person and end up with the mantra that life is shitty anyway so why try to be good? And because of that, I felt bad. Now, I try my best to do good things, not because I want to feel good for myself but because it’s the right thing to do. I have come to the realization that just because I was hurt does not mean I have the right to inflict pain on others. I know that morality is not something that can easily be answered since it’s such a complex thing and humans are flawed but as what Michael said (he has a lot of great lines from the show, I can’t help but to keep on quoting him) “What matters isn’t if people are good or bad. What matters is, if they’re trying to be better today than they were yesterday. You asked me where my hope comes from? That’s my answer.” Please, please, please watch The Good Place! I guess it’s one of the best, if not the best, sitcoms ever.

Mystic Pop-up Bar

Major lesson: Grudges are the heaviest to carry/ the art of letting go

One word to describe this k-drama? HEARTWARMING. With only 12 episodes, this k-drama was able to provide me comfort and healing. I did not actually expect much from this as I only watched it because of Yook Sungjae but what I failed to realize is that this kdrama’s approach to storytelling will be heartwarming. The plot is pretty simple for a fantasy drama: a woman, Weol-ju, runs a pop-up bar in order to fulfill her mission of settling the grudges of 100,000 people but as the years went by, it became difficult for her to have people to open up. When people fail to open up about the grudges they are holding, then it will be difficult for her to help them in solving their problems. And since it is taking her way too long to finish her mission, she was given an ultimatum of having to finish her mission within a month – good thing is she found two people to help her with the case: the afterlife police agent Gwi and the human with special ability of making people open up to him just by having a slight physical contact with them, Kang Bae. I love the way these three main characters complemented each other and I sometimes wish that I was given the chance to be a customer at the Mystic Pop-up Bar not just to have them help me solve my grudges but because sometimes, all we need is people who will listen to us.

As mentioned, Weol-ju’s mission is to help people settle the grudges they are carrying and she makes it happen by having people go inside her pop-up bar, let them tell their stories to her and then she will eventually offer them a special drink (which she disguises as an alcohol) that will make them fall asleep so she can enter the dream world and do her work in settling the grudge. While watching this drama, I can’t help but wonder: why do people drink when they have problems? For someone who never drinks and is not interested in drinking, I’ve always been curious of it. They said that alcohol tastes bitter, so I don’t understand why it seems to be helping people in dealing with their problems? Some say that by drinking, it helps them escape their reality for a while. I did some research about this topic and according to Origins Recovery, alcohol contains anxiolytic properties which means that it helps in inhibiting stress or anxiety. As for the bitterness, I heard from someone that as time passes by, the bitterness become sweet unlike life itself in which as time passes by, it becomes more overwhelming. I guess drinking really helps people to take a pause from the absurdity of life despite its bitterness as well as the headache that follows after drinking. Moreover, who am I to judge people who rely on drinking when their life becomes a mess when I also have my own ways, sometimes self-destructive, of finding an escape from this horrible world that we live in? After all, when life gets too tough, we all just want an escape – even though it’s temporary.

With every episode, Weol-ju and her squad helped people settle their grudges and each time they do, it makes me feel emotional. This show makes me realized that all of us are carrying grudges we don’t talk about and when we do not have the avenue to vent it out, then it eats us up alive. All of us are no stranger to struggles, but it is important to be strong and courageous. We can choose to struggle alone but asking for help does not mean you are weak.

Let me end this blogpost by putting my favorite line from Weol-ju: “No matter what’s making you suffer right now, things will settle and pass eventually. Hang in there until then, and you’ll find yourself stronger”

TinaMae

#personal #tinamae tales #kdrama #k-drama #k drama #netflix #angel last mission love #l infinite #kim myung soo #mystic pop up bar #sungjae #the good place #kristen bell

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heartate-aa · 3 years

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but yeah no on a serious note. since i feel like my hand has been forced, i’m going to be more open about myself regarding like my mental health. i usually don’t like to put it out there, not anymore since the majority of us have moved past the “tell the entire internet all of your mental health problems and list them where we can all see or else you’re lying” but. i struggle with bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and adhd. if you know anything about these things, you’re going to know how difficult it is to deal with them, especially their combined effects together. bipolar + adhd together literally feels like they are holding hands and skipping and singing songs together while holding me at gunpoint to conspire against me and ruin my life and it’s difficult like. the adhd executive dysfunction on top of the lethargy and mood drops that come with depression + my severe depressive episodes make it almost impossible to function sometimes and it’s why i disappear out of nowhere and i shut down and i don’t talk to anyone.

like that incident in may 2018 where i was literally so suicidal that i really did try to like my mental health was so bad and it’s disgusting that my 4-5 days of silence are being painted as me suicide baiting and also “making them think i was dead” like i understand how shitty it comes across. the way it must have felt to worry about me. but perhaps for a moment, could you understand how awful my mental health had to be that i deleted my existence from the internet for a week and said nothing, even to my own boyfriend who was trying to check on me? the fact that i couldn’t even tell them that hey, i am fine now, i’m recovering, i’m doing better, speaks volumes to HOW i was struggling and how low i felt because my bipolar disorder takes me to the extremes and sometimes things feel life or death and world ending and it’s dramatic and it’s awful and it’s not fun. i didn’t do it on purpose. it seems cold because yeah at the end of the week, when i was starting to feel better, i was playing aram games on the PBE because i was trying to find some semblance of normality and do something i enjoyed to make myself feel better after being in such a horrible pit. am i proud of that? no, because if i was starting to feel better, i could have messaged raphael first. that’s true. but i was still not in a place where i felt like i was ready to talk to anyone. i wasn’t. i was spoonless, upset, depressed, recovering from trying to die, and i still wasn’t ready to talk to them and it’s unfair to twist this situation and paint it as me being evil and malicious when i was simply struggling. it’s not fair. i understand the way that it hurt raphael. the desperation and worry and anxiety that they went through in trying to make sure i was ok because they thought i was dead. i cannot even begin to imagine what they were feeling, but i can try to because they scared me several times. i don’t think they were suicide baiting me and i will not say that it was because that’s shitty and it’s NOT what it was but, they scared me a lot and i thought a lot of times things were very dangerous. i won’t speak up on the incidents themselves bc it’s not my story to tell and i will not break the privacy of these situations, but i was scared a lot that raphael was going to hurt themself and i was panicked and upset and i can understand, in part, the similar feelings they must have felt. anyway i will discuss all of this at a later date.

the point of this post was. i am mentally ill. severely so. i’m not in a position where i can seek professional help but i do things every single day to try to cope and better myself and grow as a person so that i don’t let my issues negatively affect the people around me. i still slip up, i know that, i make mistakes, but i am trying my best to be a better person. i am trying to be more conscientious of the things i say and do because with my adhd + bipolar comes a lot of impulsivity and that gets me into a lot of trouble. but like, it’s disingenuous to try to accuse me of taking the time to make malicious schemes but in the same beat note that i’m ... impulsive and it’s because of my impulsivity that i fuck up? pick a story. please. my brain is not wired that way. i couldn’t scheme even if i wanted to like it’s just. malicious to say that?? my bipolar gets triggered easily sometimes. sometimes it’s not so easy. sometimes i don’t even see an episode coming, i’m just suddenly in a pit of irritability and depression and i don’t know how i got there and i’m in my extremes of everything sucks the world around me is coming to an end. but sometimes i’m manic and happy and excited but at the same time i’m still just as irritable. anyways i’m saying all of this because. my mental illnesses aren’t excuses. i’ve never tried to use them as a crutch or make excuses. every time i bring them up, i’m trying to provide a reason and explanation from how/why i got from point a to point b. i never tried to use them as a crutch. i just wanted to be understood. i just wanted people like raphael to understand my reasoning, my mindset, and my point of view. it was never meant as a “im using this as a shield and that’s why you can’t yell at me.” it was a “hey this happened because i came to this conclusion due to my anxiety/paranoia and i acted impulsively.” i never used anything to justify my actions. me being mentally ill doesn’t put me in the right. i have NEVER used it to excuse myself. i just wanted to be heard, for raphael to see from MY point of view and try to understand HOW i came to a certain conclusion, even if it was wrong. i never tried to say i was right. i just wanted them to understand HOW and WHY i got to that place, even if my judgment + actions were in the wrong.

#im trying to be open about my mental health in light of all this #since people want to take it out of context and demonize me for it #ooc.#tbd.#suicide mention -#ask to tag

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pygmeys · 4 years

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Hey so this is kinda important

i woke up today to see that a poem/rant i had written a few years ago had resurfaced and was getting notes again. the rant was about all the shitty complicated feelings surrounding my at the time ongoing struggle with eating disorders. and, as it has happened before, it making rounds again caused a surge of new followers on my blog. i wont say these people are proana or thinspo blogs because i dont think they all are, however by glancing at their blogs its easy to tell that eating disorders and other mentall issues are a common thread among them.

i wrote this rant when i was 19. im 22 now and although i wouldn't say im fully recovered from the things i experienced (can any of us truly recover from something like that in this hell of a society?) i am doing much much better. ive dedicated myself to healing for about 4 years now and its not always great but i can say i am doing good, i even manage to feel hot and pretty sometimes, fat and all. but it is very hard and complicated, even now i can hardly go through a meal without second guessing myself, so i understand what its like to be in that place mentally and i really dont judge anyone for holding on to whatever coping mechanisms they can find out there.

that said i do think proana and thinspo groups are horribly unhealthy. and youre not an idiot, you also probably know how harmful it is in the long run to seek out communities made up of a neverending stream of self hate. and i do get it, but you need to stop. so if you wanna take some advice from someone whos been through it here it is: when you are very hurt and alone it is comforting to surround yourself with more pain, its an instant form of validation that can be so hard to find in a world thats so harsh at times and that probably has been very harsh to you. but by doing this you are only trapping yourself in a cycle where it feels like hurting is the only real thing you can get yourself to feel. being cruel to yourself can become so satisfying when you think that it makes you the one in control, because at least then you are the one delivering the blow. but the truth is that it just makes you loose sight of all the other options that are available to you. eating disorders and other mental issues twist your perception so much, its unreal. the truth is that absurd as it sounds, a better, healthier, happier way of living is within your reach. recovery is so hard, specially at first and relapses are inevitable but once you start realizing that you can actually heal and improve yourself, your world really starts opening up for the better.

if any of these new followers of mine have read through this without getting upset at me and want to know what i reccomend doing next here it is:

find therapy, any kind of therapy, and if you feel like its not working or that youre being hurt/judged by it, find another form of therapy. for me personally what really did it was going to a nutritionist that focused on helping people out of eating disorders through healthy eating habits.

unfollow people and tags that post triggering or upsetting content, start following whatever makes you truly happy, fandoms, cute animals, positivity blogs, yoga, meditation, etc.

it wont always work but try countering whatever negative thoughts and words come out of your head. tell yourself as much as you can that theres good and worth and kindness in you. you might not always believe it but its a good start.

find out ways in which other people can help you and explicitly ask them to do that for you. try not getting upset if this doesnt work with everyone all the time, but the people who love you will try to do whats in their capabilities to help you out.

thats all i can think of right now. for some other things you can look up the positivity and recovery tags in my blog. i know im just some idiot on the internet and you really dont have to listen to me, but hopefully some of the helps out. as for me, you can reach out if you need some help or advice finding resources, but the truth is that im not qualified to be anyones therapist, eating disorders are still a sensitive and triggering subject to me, and i also need to take care of myself.

#yea thats about it #sorry for the long post i have some Things i needed to get out #bird talk #fyi i have no problem with you people following me but understand if i want to keep my interactions with these topics to a minimum #eating disorders tw

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syekick-powers · 4 years

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rambling about emotions and self-control

i think one of the things that pisses me off the most when family members criticize me is when they say that i’m “bad at controlling my emotions”. first of all, I have ADHD and bipolar simultaneously, my emotions are a hundred times fucking stronger than yours. secondly, i am actually excellent at controlling my emotions. i am the kind of person where if i am having a panic attack, you might not have any fucking clue that i’m even having anxiety unless i state directly that im having a panic attack. ive had PAs so bad where i legit thought i was about to die and not a single shred of that world-ending panic touched my external affect for a second. part of my fucking trauma revolves around having to hide my distress to avoid freaking out other people, which means that i learned to develop a diamond fucking grip on my external signs of distress. it’s deeply maladaptive in some situations, but in other situations it’s equally as useful. and yet because i am very animated and exaggerated in my persona, people assume that i just let my emotions fountain everywhere uncontrollably and that i’m just a waterfall of feelings.

incorrect. every bit of exaggeration in my affect is deliberate. i am not acting like a clown because i can’t control myself, i am purposefully choosing to exaggerate to convey my feelings more effectively. if i don’t want you to know what i’m feeling, you will never ever ever find out. there are some people i interact with on a regular basis whomst i fucking loathe deeply, and yet any time i interact with them i am completely personable and friendly. when im streaming video games on a high difficulty and get frustrated from having to do the same part over and over and over again, i never get tilted on stream. i dont yell or rage, and in fact the more frustrated i become the more blank and expressionless my affect turns. when i was playing dead space 2 on zealot difficulty on stream recently, all of my viewers were complimenting the fact that i spent at least two collective hours on trying to beat the final boss and yet still did not get visibly upset or pissed off once.

yes, my emotions are strong. i have two separate disorders that both have “emotional dysregulation” as some of their biggest negative side effects. my bad moods feel like a fucking firestorm most of the time and strong emotions are very difficult to handle and control. sometimes, my emotions get the better of me and i snap or get irritable. but the only time i’m irritable is when i feel physically and emotionally like utter dogshit and the bad mood impacts my ability to hold back my emotions. the truth is that in my day to day life there are dozens of fucking things that irritate the living hell out of me and i choose to discard my frustration rather than stay mad about something trivial--either that, or i feel the frustration intensely, but bite it back and don’t say anything because i’m not in the mood to pick a fight. if i’m being pissy with you, it’s because i’m completely fuck-out of all mental and physical energy that i would otherwise use to hold back my irritation. there is nothing left to burn. there aren’t even fumes in the tank. this bitch empty, so prepare for the yeet.

the problem that i run into with my family members is that this internal struggle to contain my emotions is completely invisible to any external viewers. they’re not me, of course they can’t see what’s going on in my head. what makes that an issue is that they don’t see the twenty fucking times i got irritated and managed to control my temper through the frustration, they only see the five or so times i lose control. my efforts are invisible to everyone around me, so when i finally do get fed up and make a snippy comment or complain, it seems like i just let my emotions get the better of me all the time.

to be fuckening honest, if the people who criticized me lived one fucking day in my shoes, the extremity of my emotions would exhaust them within hours. the thing is, i’m 25 fucking years old, which means i’ve lived with this shit for over two fucking decades. i have learned to control myself to an extent, and, being honest with yall? it fucking exhausts the living shit out of me all the goddamn time. it’s like my brain expends all my mental fuel reserves on overclocking my emotions as hard as possible while leaving no fuel left over for activities in the day that i actually need to do. it’s part of the reason i’m so fuckdamn tired all the fuckdamn time. but i’m not bad at controlling my emotions when i actually have the energy to do so. in fact, i’m so good at suppressing them that half the time, people don’t know i’m upset at all. to a certain extent, i’ve gotten used to how extreme my emotions are, and have started learning to predict what sets me off so i can make an effort to avoid the negative stimulus and save myself the frustration. i’m just really fucking tired of people accusing me of not controlling my emotions well enough when god fucking damnit you have no idea how hard i’m actually fucking trying!!! it feels like i’ve gotten so good at hiding my distress in my day-to-day life that now people have no fucking idea how shitty i actually feel until they poke me one too many times and i fucking bite their finger off, and then assume that i just randomly blew up on them with no reason or justification. that i’m just behaving like this to spite them personally.

i promise you im not fucking behaving randomly. in fact, my frustration triggers are actually pretty fucking consistent. the same bullshit behaviors will always piss me off; what changes on a day-to-day basis is how well i control the extremity of my reaction. if i’m having a good day, i have enough fuel stores to go “meh, whatever” and brush it off without being too bothered for very long. if i feel like shit, my ability to control my response is hampered and it becomes much harder to bite back a snippy comment. i’m not lashing out to be malicious or spiteful. i’m lashing out because you’ve been doing this shit every day for the past two fucking weeks and today i’m just too tired to deal with this fucking bullshit anymore. my reaction is not a sudden unprovoked blowing up of a bomb. it’s “you poked the caged animal one too many times and now it’s going to fucking bite you to make you stop because it has no other way to express its frustration”.

i try to be clear and concise with my boundaries, and frankly i don’t think they’re all that unreasonable. i like to be able to decide when and how i do a task on my own time rather than being pushed and pulled and jabbed and pressured every step of the way. i like to be able to have my own space where people have to get my permission before entering suddenly so that i feel like i have a safe place to hide when i’m overstimulated. i like to decide when and where i want to engage in socialization, and for how long. i like being able to decide when i’m ready to do a task, rather than having a task suddenly shoved on me with no warning or being pressured to do it before i’m ready. i do not like being gifted objects i did not request (and often actively requested not to get) and then being expected to be grateful for something i didnt even want in the first place. i don’t like gifts coming with invisible price tags and obligations that can change whenever the gifter decides they want more out of me. and i absolutely cannot. fucking. stand. passive aggression. all of these things do not really seem all that unreasonable to me, yet time and time again people treat me like i’m just asking for so much more than they can possibly give. and you know what? 75% of the fucking time when someone crosses one of these boundaries all i do is Make A Note Of It and go along with the boundary violator’s wishes anyway, because i actively decided that making a big deal out of them crossing my boundaries is not worth the effort of asking them to change their behavior, because throughout my entire fucking life i’ve been constantly treated as the irrational, unrealistic, crazy bitch for trying to set those boundaries. i’ve been taught time and time and fucking time again that defining my boundaries is too much to fucking ask. so when someone does violate my boundaries, there’s a little “Sye will remember that“ popup and absolutely zero expression or reaction. which means that yes. when i finally get tired and can’t bite back my frustration any longer, it’s because you’ve done the exact same thing to me two hundred fucking times previous and i don’t have the fucking patience to suck it up and deal with it anymore. im done with your shit.

so yeah. i’m a little bit fucking sick of people telling me that i have poor self-control. the fact that you think i have no self-control is an indicator of how good it actually is, because i’m so fucking good at hiding my distress that you don’t even have any idea how absolutely like a fetid mound of horse shit i feel like until my fuse finally burns all the way up. i can contain a 10-out-of-10 ‘i’m imminently about to die’ panic attack so well that not a scrap of that panic shows up in my external affect for even a second. i can suppress my pain on stream when it’s at a 7 out of 10 intensity or higher and be fucking on stream playing video games and commentating and show almost no sign of discomfort except for an intense concentrating face. don’t you fucking ever tell me that i’m bad at controlling myself. i’m a goddamn adult. i’ve learned how to control 90% of my fucking emotions so well that i could be holding a conversation with you imagining myself breaking your fucking nose and show absolutely zero sign of external hostility. i am good at controlling my fucking emotions. the problem is that my emotions are so world-endingly, apocalyptically intense that sometimes i just get too fucking tired to hold back, and then that’s when i bite. i’ m not just lashing out randomly with no provocation. i’ve been tread on a million fucking times and took it with a smile and you had no fucking idea. just because i bit you doesn’t mean i did it because i have no self-control. self-control? self-control???? don’t you fucking talk to me about self-control you headass bitch. i have a fucking supernova coming out of my brain and you’re telling me im weak for not being able to bite it back when your emotions have about as much intensity as a bowl of lukewarm porridge. don’t ever fucking criticize me for not being able to control myself when you’re playing life on easy mode and i’ve been stuck on expert all my fucking life. self-control. don’t you fucking talk to me about self-control ever again. you have no idea what the fuck you’re even talking about. fuck off.

#sye's babbles #sorry this is a fucking essay but i needed to get some shit off my chest

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aplaceforthesoul · 4 years

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this past year my mental health been going down the drain, im sad constantly,i starved myself for 3 months last year without anyone ever finding out (im ok now, or at least getting better) and no one knows about any of it. and i know if i told anyone they would tell me to get help, but im scared. i dont want people to know about my mental health spiraling out of control. today the smallest thing just kinda finally broke me today. i was home alone and i went to get a spoon and im not sure why but

for some reason it just broke me. i broke down. and had a zoom meet w/ a teacher 30 min from then so i had to pull it together and pretend like it was ok. ive been pretending so much that i get scared everytime someone asls me if im ok. i alsways think was i not smiling enough. on top of it even though ive stoped starving myself i still weigh myself daily and hate my body. im also just tired of dealing with shitty "friends" people who are oxic, people who have me up all night thinking of our arguments. i havnt had a good nights sleep in weeks. i just dont know how to trust anyone anymore. im a mess and im scared for people to find out about my mental health, oh and im a lesbian and my family doesn't know so thats a fucking nightmare. they would be fine with it but my mom would tell everyone so im scared to tell her. i have no one to talk to. only one person knows a little bit about my mental health. only the toxic people she knows about. im scared if i tell her to much she'll worry and try to get me help. and i know i need it but i dont want people to know. i always told myself once i get to college ill get a therapist and i won't have to tell anyone. i just need advice, please

it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place I suppose, both options in front of you suck and you don’t like either of them )-: on one hand we have the rocky hard option of getting help, but that option might make your skin crawl because you feel so anxious and on edge? but the other option is to keep quiet and not say anything, and you feel just as shitty and miserable. I get the dilemma, I really really do.

however...as someone who cares about your health and your mental well-being, as someone who’s removed from the situation and has a different (and maybe slightly more objective) perspective on things? my best suggestion, is to start talking about things and to get help. why should you wait until college for a therapist? 0: that’s a serious genuine question, what is the benefit of waiting? why make a choice to spend more time than necessary being in such a dark, lonely and isolating place?

I can’t even begin to imagine how mentally exhausted and drained you are at the moment, what you’re having to deal with (the disordered eating thoughts, the fear around being lgbtqia, the lack of sleep, being constantly sad and feeling like you have to fake it) isn’t something that anyone should have to try and navigate alone.

if you don’t want to tell anyone that you’re lesbian? then you most certainly don’t have to at all, that information is yours and it’s not harming anyone if you keep quiet. when you choose to come out is 100% up to you, don’t feel bad if you have to “hide” that from certain people, your sexuality is your business and no-one else’s.

everything else though, the sadness and the self esteem and disordered eating thoughts and the lack of sleep as a result of toxic friends? that’s definitely something to talk to someone about, that’s worth seeking help about. it’s not going to be easy!! I won’t lie, it is going to feel intimidating and you probs are going to feel naked and vulnerable at times, but it’s fucking worth it. once you move past feeling vulnerable, you feel such a sense of relief at getting it off your chest! honesty + communication are your friends, not enemies. you could even write a rough draft and send it to us if you like, before you talk to someone? we’d be happy to give our thoughts if that’s something that could help you feel more confident about what you’ve written.

if you like you can talk to your mum then go for it, or maybe this other friend who knows a bit about what you’re dealing with at the moment? but if not then there’s lots of other options, this post on the blog has more info on that. also? start to distance yourself from ‘friends’ who aren’t healthy and good for you anymore. you might not be able to choose your family, but you can choose your friends! and if these ‘friends’ make you feel negative and sad and upset, if they don’t listen to you or value you or show that they like being around you and appreciate you? then they’re not really worth having as friends anymore. they’re not exactly fundamentally terrible people, just not the right people to have in your life now.

start making yourself a priority, put yourself and your wellbeing and your mental health first! if you’ve got shit friends then stop talking to them and involving them in your life, focus your energy on getting a good nights sleep (more on that here), make lots of time to take care of you. a problem shared is a problem halved, if people know then people can help you and that’s a good thing. keep me updated on things lovely, all the best <3

- tash

#advice #sadness #weight #weight tw #friends #stress #Anonymous

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ittakesrain · 4 years

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I’m hesitant to say this round is over. I won’t say that just yet. The remnants of unbearable fear are still with me, the trauma is still too recent.

Like, fuck. It was (I’ll use the past tense there) like 15 or so days of just. Well, if you’ve read my shit before you know what it was like. Or if you’re unlucky enough to suffer this sinister fucking disorder, you know. You don’t need me reminding you.

It always starts with the violent, aggressive, uncontrollable irritability. It has no actual cause and therefore no clear way to be diffused. It’s terrifying. I notice it in the car the most, driving. No matter who’s in front of me and no matter how they’re driving, I am angry. Intensely. White-hot rage is literally all I know or have ever known.

Then major depression. I noticed that when I was driving during that phase, I was angry as fuck still but literally to weary to respond with anger. It turned inward and tore me apart from the inside. It literally radiates off of me (like my anxiety does). My boyfriend always comments when he feels it radiating off of me.

Sidenote, I love that he senses/sees the changes that happen within me. They’re so sudden and for no reason, and they leave me feeling crazy (I already feel crazy like, generally, but I’m constantly questioning like “did that really just happen, did I really just sob hysterically for an hour?”).

After that (or along with it) comes anxiety. Fuck the fucking anxiety. Like, physical panic attack symptoms coupled with the racing thoughts, none of which I can fully latch onto, most of them scary, many of them about death. It’s just indescribable to not have a safe place in your brain. No amount of visualization or breathing can fix it. Not even having someone next to me speaking words of comfort. Not even a hug, and I love hugs.

I had family stuff all weekend, and my cousins were visiting from another state. And it was terrible because I spent one day holding back tears and hiding and then actually letting the tears just fuckin’ flow. I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with anyone that day. Yesterday was a little better. I was mopey and uncomfortable and distracted and totally not myself.

Then, of course, I got home and was hysterical for a little over an hour. And not that I wanna put myself back in that terrible, terrible moment (or any of the MANY previous ones I’ve had), but I just remember so vividly wondering how I’d ever be able to function again. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever been able to function before. There was no escape, nothing else but inward-pointing disgust and depression and fear. I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that I’m only fucking 28 and that this thing is gonna live with me for the rest of my ever, and it might get worse and there’s no cure and like. Yeah, the cure thing. I explained to a friend of mine that “cure” is not a thing. Meds are not a cure, therapy is not a cure, doing all the right things is not a cure. They help. They give me better tools to survive the next round. But that’s all it is, most times: survival.

Sounds like a totally negative way to view it. And I feel no guilt for feeling that way. This. Shit. Sucks. I deserve a pity party after every fucking episode. At least grant me that (not that I need or am asking for permission).

Also, could timing possibly have been any worse? Ugh. I missed them all and they were physically here. The guilt I felt made things worse. The longing didn’t help either.

And I’m pretty sure none of them have ever seen me quite that bad. I was afraid I scared or upset them. But honestly, they are all so understanding and helpful and supportive, and the tremendous amount of love I feel for them is mind-blowing. I am so lucky, and I’m at a loss for words. I doubt that in a lifetime of writing and collecting words, I’ll ever get enough to explain how lucky I am or how much all that means to me.

And I have to mention my sister. And brother in law. Not only their actually support, but they were sending pictures of my amazing perfect adorable pure nephew. Immediately puts a smile on my face. Lots of people reminded me that he’s a big WHY. I want to be the aunt he deserves. And I know I can be, although I dread having to explain to my little guy why Aunt Laura loses it every now and again (but there’s a Dr Seuss book about feelings which is actually totally about bipolar disorder that I’m gonna use when he’s old enough). It sometimes hurt that I had to feel so shitty and have that someone be connected to how he was making me feel better. There was some measure of guilt that I can’t explain. But my god is his little face and his little rolls worth it.

Right. So I’m feeling better but not ready to call it being out of the woods yet. If nothing else I think it’ll be less dramatic from here on out, and I think it’ll be less rapid cycling. I think I’ll be at least somewhat less reactive to tiny insignificant bullshit going “wrong.”

Mind you, this is all sheer optimism and positivity. And I do not for a single second take for granted the fact that I am, at this moment, capable of thinking that way. It’s fleeting. All of this is fleeting. I mean, life can be looked at that way by everyone, which might be a helpful push toward “living in the moment.” But bipolar fleeting. Moods are fleeting. Flux is constant and its effects are omnipresent.

I’m just trying to find the silver lining. Wrap this up in a bow, as I tend to do. Actually no, as I need to do. And like, don’t we all? Part of what made this episode suck so bad was that I couldn’t write (even though I had some deadlines) and I couldn’t describe this bullshit in a way that I haven’t already. Each bought of insanity brings with it new…shit. And it is infuriating to not be able to explain it again. Also, I couldn’t move let alone form words. Couldn’t make eye contact let alone summon the energy to talk with other human beings.

I dunno. I guess for now I’m gonna focus (something I’m able to do again!) on finding the beauty in the spaces in between the chaos. Find a way to drill it so deep in my brain that I’ll inherently remember it (or just fucking FEEL it) next depression (well actually this was a mixed episode but whatever).

Until I get around to doing that, peace out, internet.

#bipolar #bipolar disorder #depression #manic #hypomanic #mixed episode #depressed #anxiety #finding meaning #mental illness #mental illness recovery #recovery #mood disorder #personal post #surviving #i got this #i can do it #growth

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