Substance Abuse - Tumblr Posts
My lips kissed the pipe, the taste as i inhale the vapor, ignoring the warning to not hold it in when he wasn't looking. Slowing blowing out a massive white cloud. ♡♡♡♡♡♡
I swear, this started as a joke in a couple of sentences. And then I got sucked into it. Behold! Starscream is enjoying his Dark Energon dildo.
Stabbing himself in the spark chamber with a Dark Energon crystal was a bad idea. Thank Primus, Starscream is smart. And, for better or worse, his body has components that can accept an intrusion benevolently. Well, if he persuades it patiently enough. And if there's no Megatron in any close proximity, of course.
He's working on it, holding a long, slender crystal in his slightly trembling hand. One of the ends of the crystal is pointy but not sharp, so it won't injure him if he keeps it slow and adds more viscous medical-grade lubricant before the main act. He's circling his valve opening with this pointy end, the pressure on his sensor lining rigid but light, more on the verge of teasing. Like he's using one of these fancy delux toys that they used to sell in special shops back then on Cybertron, long ago. Like he's just luxuriously self-servicing on his time off and not injecting himself with an understudied diabolical drug just because their fucked-in-the-buckethead leader gained a new power, so Starscream has to do something to be a step ahead. At least he already has enough processor power to consult with Knock Out about how to put the damn thing inside without damaging his systems.
When the crystal catches on his nodes with a little harder Starscream all but tenses up, his valve channel blocking itself from any potential encroachment. Ah, shit. It takes him several slow circles around the most sensitive node for his motors to stop seizing up. A squeeze of his neglected spike also helps his systems relax and tune in. His interface protocols are booting one by one. If only he wasn't so sick of this planet, the war, the vechicons, the organization, the ranks, Megatron...
The energon icicle is entering him slowly, rocking slightly in his grip. At first, he's guiding it straight into his valve channel. It slides in, making the inner rings open to accommodate the girth. He pauses with his eyes shut, venting out little whimpers both from his engine and his voice box, the latter generating a pathetically high-pitched sound. After a while, the heat of his equipment will start slowly melting the energon. And even a few drops of this vicious matter can be enough.
With his spark spinning in its casing, he changes the angle. The crystal hitting nodes on the upper wall of his valve makes him gasp. It's firm, inflexible. And, more importantly, it's moving only the way Starscream wants it. A little deeper. A bit quicker. On that spot again, making him pull his legs to his torso and his wings tremble against the berthsheet. He's getting in taste, his nodes burning brighter with the charge building. No more Knock Out's lube needed, he's getting wet with what his own body is producing, and also...
It hits him like a lightning bolt. Powerful, merciless, and poisonous. A call from the darkest corner of the universe. But, being introduced into him this way, it has an unexpected effect, almost short-circuiting his processor and mind with pure and sickening want. He's squirming, rocking with his whole frame, almost rolling over. Fucking his squelching cunt with Unicron's fierce spike. The filthiest words are popping out of his thesaurus, the most outrageous concepts. Unicron will nut Dark Energon into his dormant womb, breed Starscream with power, make him an equal, an omnious, screaming, destructive, squirting entity.
He arches up, almost doubling in half, stabbing himself between his shaking legs with the melting crystal. And the moment his valve forces out a stream of lubricant and energon with an almost-bursting pressure, his body is aflame.
Now every eye shall see the might of him. The world will know.
Beyond Borders [Supernatural Au x teen demon reader] PT 6
{some parts are edited some arent}
Key 🗝-
Y/n = Your Name
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❗❗❗❗❗TW - this chapter will talk about abuse and achohlosim so be warned ❗❗❗❗❗
Recap - CRACK
the wall cracked. I could see the walls insulation (think like when Syd from ' I'm not ok with this ' broke the wall). did I do that? could I even do that? I looked down at my hands, they were sweaty and shaking
what the hell is wrong with me ?
{ December 3, 2019}
Y/ns pov-
How am I gonna cover this up ? I was now standing in the front of the huge crack in the wall . the crack was about half as tall as me and it was deep . Did I make that ? can I even make that ? I took a deep breath and turned the face the other way . I went to the side of my bed and grabbed my bag from where it sat . i slung the bag over my shoulder and made my way the the hatch-door on the floor .
i opened the hatch . the latter attached to it fell as well . I climb down the latter into the room . They turned the hatch room an office , it had a 2 desk and selves so many shelves , all covered in books and other weird misalliance things . i walked out into the hallway and down the stairs . i went into the kitchen .
when I went into the kitchen I saw a somebody standing in front of the sink looking out into the the backyard . i didn't move all I could do was stare at him . He was tall and had long hair , he was wearing a flannel and dark blue jeans ......... wait , .................... was this sam ? had it really been 2 hours . I looked at the clock that hung on the wall .
12 : 47 pm
I then looked back at the stranger . i slowly then walked back out the door but as did he turned around . we looked at each other . he looked confused , i realized he probably had no idea whoo i was . we looked a each other for a bit , i knew what i had to do . I took a deep breath in and open my mouth "STRANGER DANGER ! " i yelled and ran back into the other room aka living room . i then proceeded to stand in the living room . i stared at the door way , after a few minutes became running into the living room but this time he had a gun and the gun was pointed at me . " Who the fuck are you " he said . i stayed silent and just stared at him , i had no weapon and i didn't have my hood on so he could see my horns and that wasn't good , my backpack had no weapons in it .
" why the fuck are you in my house ?" he sounded angry " uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" is all i could muster out . what was i supposed to say ' hi mystery man , my names y/n and I'm a half demon teen wholives in your attic and don't worry i totally didn't crack a huge crack in your wall' . He cocked the gun " name , now " he said . " Y/N-N ! " i said "and why are you here ? " He asked " i uhh kinda ummm live here " i anwsered .
"no you dont " he told me " uhh actually i do " . The mystery man steppeed even closer . we were now only a few feet from each other " whats with the horns " he took another step "their none of ya buisness " i said and stepped back "get out of my hou-" "SAM ! what the fuck are you doing !?" a voice boomed from the front door . It was dean he stood in the door way holding a bag , Castiel then walked in and stood next to him . " Dean ! look this kid was in your house and refused to leave " 'Sam' said as he still pointing the gun at me " I have a name ya know " I retorted "y/n , shush " dean said as he waved a hand towards
"ok sam just put gun down and lets talk " dean said as he walked up to sam and put his hand on the gun , slowly pushing it down " ok lets talk about how there a litrel a child claiming that claims they ' live here ' . WITH horn may I add ! " Sam angrly said as he put the gun to rest on his side "ok ok , I can explain, so umm sam this is y/n they kinda live here and is half demon-" " A DEMON?!" Sam cut dean off and quickly pointed the gun at me again in a panic . As a reaction I put my arms up like as if a policeman was pointing a gun at me . " HALF ! Half demon Sam ! Jeus fuck . " Dean shouted and this time took the gun of of Sams hand .
i [put my hands down . Sam grabbed deans shoulder and said to him " Dean can we talk in the kitchen " Dean nodded and they both walked into the kitchen . i sighed and looked at the front door , it was wide open ' dean must of forgot to shut it ' I thought to myself . i went to shut the door . As I stood in the door, my eyes drifted to the sky. The sky had gotten darker and it looked like it was going to rain. I closed the door with a shrug.
as I walked into the living room I could hear sam and dean yelling and well I got curious , so I stood by the doorway where I could hear them clearly but they couldn't see me . " Dean they cant live here " Sam shouted "Their a demon what if they kill us or turn on us , think of ruby . " "Sam their nothing like ruby , this is just a kid . They cant kill you wanna know why caus their scared of cas ! And cas is cas ! " Dean shouted back " They have to leave " Sam barked back " listen sam , I known this kid form about a week this kid cant do shit we're fine and plus I've been doing some researched and I found their mom and i gave her a call and told her everything and she told me that shes gonna drive down here and pick the kid up . so we'll be fine shell be here in a few days " dean explained to sam . he called my mom ? she coming here ? All the way from Arizona ?
My hands Stared to shake . No I couldn't do this again . i couldn't see her again . I hated her and I still do . I moved so that I was standing fully in the door way . I faced them . I stared to feel like when I was up in the attic (aka my room ) . I was shaking , my thought were racing , but this time I felt sick to my stomach " You what !" I angrly yelled . the two looked looked towards me , sam still looked angery and dean looked surprised " YOU CALLED MY MOM !?"I yelled even louder . my fisted clenched and stepped into the kitchen .
" Kids it not what it sounds like " Dean fully turned around and put his hand up in defense " it sure sound like it ! " I stepped closer and stood tall . " kid listen you cant stay with us it dangerous !" Dean said loudly " AND ? Is that the only reason ? Dean , I've been on the run since I was 13 ! 2 years ! I'm 15 and I've been without a home for 2 years ! Do you wanna know why I ran away ?! Heres the reason , my mom got drunk everyday and would beat the living shit , she called me a mistake and gods leftovers ! she would beat me for hours and then when she was done she would get drunk and cry to me about how she missed my dad and that she was sorry ! but she never was ! " I screamed at him . he looked at me almost taken back , sam did too " The day I ran away she beat me so bad ki could barely walk but I walked I fucking went to my room and packed up my shit and walked all the way to a whole different fucking state! " I counted to scream at him
" you wanna know what dean ? I'm done I'm out " I almost mumbled and turned "wait kid-" he put a hand on my shoulder I slapped it away " no " after that I ran , ou the kitchen and to the living room . i threw the door open and ran . It was raining but I dint care i ran . I ran but I looked back to sree dean standing in the yard he looked at me . i stopped running and turned around , for a second he looked almost like he happy as if I was gonna stop runnign and turned around but I didnt . cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled " I HOPE YOU FUCKING BURN IN HELL !! " I then flipped him off , turned back away from him and ran like my life depended on it .
As i ran i could feel the rain soak my hair and my hoodie . i Ran for what felt like hours . My legs hurt like hell but i didnt stop nor did i look back , as i was running i saw something in the distance , It was a park . I ran faster . when i made it to the the park i ran to the nearist seat which was a bench . I collapsed onto the bench. I buried my face in my hands and cried. The tears poured out of my eyes and I wept, letting out loud, strangled cries.
I cried for what felt like hours . I sat on the bench in the soaking rain sobbing for hours . The park was filled with the loudest silence I've ever heard . I felt so overwhelmed . i lifted my face from my hands . i looked around the park . it had a play set and a sand box , it also had lots of picnic tables scatter around . i was looking around my eyes turned to the road. it was empty . After staring at the road for a while, lights came from it, and a car drove past. It was kind of an old car like an Impala or something, and I glanced into the driver's window and spotted the last person I wanted to see. Dean fucking Winchester . I looked around in hopes of finding somewhere to hide , that's when i spotted a wooded area . 'perfect', I thought to myself. I took one last look at the car before standing up and bolting to the wooded area.
i soon found my self standing in a small clearing with trees all around me . I hugged myself and fell to my knees . My body began to shake again not because i was scared or upset but because i was cold and tired . Tears began spilling out of my eyes once more . the sobbing began again . My eyes were glued to the ground . My arms fell and gripped onto the ground, ripping some grass out of the ground as i tighted my grip on the ground .I let out a pained anguishing scream but when i di a wave of bringing fell over my ears . I power washed out of me and into my surronigings . Trees fell down and and loud crashes was i all i could hear (like syd from I'm not okay with this >>>>>>>>>> https://youtu.be/1kbOdI08Ct4 )
I teared my gaze away from the ground to look around . this time the silence was louder . My sobbs had stopped looked had what i had done . i felt sick to my stomach . i sat in horror as i stared at the fallen trees .
clap clap clap
i began to hear a slow clapping coming from behind me . my head snapped back to see how it was . a man stood there with a almost welcoming grin . the man wasn't tall , he wore an all black suit and had very short balck hair and had a short , that was very thing . He took a step towards me andsmiled at me "w-who-o a-are yo-ou " i manged to stutter out " my names is crowley and I'm here to help you , y/n " his voiced sounded almost to sweet " y-you-re here to h-help m-e , how ?" i asked . I scrambled to stand up and face him . " i can take you away from all this , and i can give you a place to call 'home'" Crowly assured . "what the catch ? I'm mean this all sound to good to be free "i asked " its a small price but it all depends how do feel about working for a demon ? " He asked but it sounded almost like a joke . i thought for a second i had to decision 1 , i could run from him and repat what ive been doing for the past 2 years and keep going on the run or 2 work for this random guy claiming to be a demon and have a home and leave all of this shityness behind me .
" (sigh) ill take the job " i sighed "that what i like to here " .
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2425 words
While they ordinarily feed on fish, crabs, and small birds, Pelicans working in coastal cities will occasionally imbibe alcoholic beverages in order to become intoxicated. Believed to be a form of stress relief after long days of thankless work, these drunken seabirds can hold up to one quarter firkin of alcohol in their mouths at a time. Above, a Brown Pelican has a wobbly flight home after three mouthfuls of cider.
Simon Gruber: Am I Worth Anything?
Imagine being John McClane's youngest daughter, and running away to Germany after your parents start fighting again and your dad moves back to New York. What happens when Simon Gruber finds you on the streets:
-This is set after the second movie, but before the 3rd. I have the reader at age 12-
They'd started arguing again, everything was going so good too, Dad had moved here to LA and everything. I don't know what caused all of this, I thought they were happy, I thought everything was fixed... but I'm wrong as per usual.
Mom has us staying with her, but I'm honesty feeling so alone, even with my siblings around. They both are a few years older than me, so they either bully or ignore me, but neither is my friend. Dad was helping us figure this out, but that all went to waste after he left. They started being cold again, acting as if I don't exist. I know this separating is effecting them as well, but at least they have each other, I don't even have mom here to confide in since she's always working.
I try to call dad sometimes, but he's always drunk and usually thinks I'm mom, sometimes he doesn't even give me the chance to talk, just picks up the phone and starts cursing. He's never treated me like that before, sure, sometimes he just picks up the phone and responds that way before knowing it's me, but is that really an excuse? The separation must be hurting him as well... I wish I could help him, but I don't even know how to help myself.
Sometime, late at night, I think about what occurred leading up to dad leaving. I remember them shouting at each other, trying to get my brother and sister to take sides. They choose mom either way, I just stood in-between, how could they make me choose? The looks of disdain coming from all sides made me wither, I felt hated, unwanted. Maybe things would be better if I leave?
_______
I left home, it may sound really stupid, but maybe things will be better if I stay at dad's for a little bit; surely things couldn't be worse than staying with my mother and siblings.
The train ride was costly and took around 3 days for me to arrive in New York; my packing was light, just my back pack with a few changes of clothing, all my savings, my ID, some food and a notepad and pen. I didn't want to pack to much because it would make it harder for me to slip out of the house unnoticed, so I just stuffed my backpack and went for it - I probably should've packed other things, but it's too late now.
New York was interesting, I was quite young when we moved to Los Angeles, so being back is a new experience. The buildings are tall and overbearing, they make you feel so small, and the crowded, busy sidewalks only emphasize that point.
I pull out the map from my pocket, dotting what street I'm on, and then charting the best way to get to my father's apartment. His apartment is a bit away from the station, about 20ish blocks, but I've got enough daylight to make it before nightfall.
Before beginning my trek I pull out my walkman, restarting the CD, it's the Station to Station album by David Bowie - I hd to beg for a whole 2 months before my father finally gave in and bought me the walkman, he later gifted me this CD upon noticing how Bowie is my favorite musician. It's a nice reminder that my father cares for me, whenever I'm feeling lonely, I'll listen to this album.
I'm weaving my way through people, trying my best not to run into anyone. The sun seems to be setting a lot sooner than I thought it would, but that must be because of the time difference, I must've forgotten to account for that. Either way, I'm over half way there and the sun is just beginning to set, that last thing I want is to be caught after dark on the streets of New York - I especially don't want this as I am currently an unattended child.
I finally arrive at my fathers apartment, pressing the buzzer at the door, hoping he'll be home and let me in.
"Who is it?" I hear an annoyed voice answer, but I still sigh in relief.
"Dad?" My voice sounds so small, hopefully he still heard me.
"Y/N?" I don't know how to describe it, but it seems like so many emotions smashed into one word: relief, anger, happiness, anxiousness. So many that they overwhelm me.
"Yeah, it's me, can you let me in?" I don't get a verbal response, but hear the door being unlocked. I push open the heavy door, making my way inside the lobby. I head over to the elevator and push the up button, waiting patiently for the doors to open. I'm startled by the abrupt opening of the door from the stairwell, staring at the door as I watch my father come bustling out of it. He looks tense and rushed - a mess if I'm being honest, looking around quickly before stilling when he spots me.
His movements are fast, he catches me off guard when he pulls me in unexpectedly for a tight hug. I'm surprised, but accept the contact, it's been so long since I've seen my father after all. As he holds me, I can't help but smell the alcohol on him, though I know mentioning it could be disastrous.
We separate and head into the now awaiting elevator, the ride up was quick but surprisingly quiet; I expected some sort of conversation, but maybe he's processing? The walk from the elevator to his apartment felt uncomfortably tense though, like something suddenly angered him. Either way, it made me feel uneasy.
As soon as I enter, I go to speak, but am cut off by the harsh slamming of the door.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!" He questions in a raised voice, he's angry, that much I can tell.
"I-" I begin to respond, but have no time as I am immediately cut off.
"Leaving without telling your mother, wandering the streets of New York at night! How the hell did you even get here from LA, no airline would let you board unattended?"
"I-I used the amtrak." I explain in a shaky voice, averting my eyes from his gaze and staring down at the dirty floor.
"What were you even thinking? Coming over here?" His voice is solemn now, and it makes me more uncomfortable than when he was yelling.
"I thought that... maybe I could stay here for a while?" I respond sheepishly, but hoping - no, praying - that he'll let me stay.
"Stay? Here, with me?" He questions incredulously.
"Please?" I whisper, glancing at him hopefully.
"What? No, you can't stay with me." He looks at me like I'm crazy, I suddenly feel very out of place, like I can't find anywhere that I'm allowed to exist. It's an astounding experience, especially when I've always felt so comfortable with my father.
"But..." I begin, trailing off as I try to think of what to say.
"But what? Don't tell me, you thought you could leave your mother and come live with me, that it would be as easy as showing up on my doorstep unannounced?" I can tell he's making fun of me, his tone gives it away.
"I-" I begin once again, only this time I'm interrupted.
"Well it's not! I thought you were smarter than that? You're going back to your mother's first thing tomorrow, you understand?" His shouting is scary, he's never acted like this towards me, though I have seen a few interactions like this between him and my mother.
"Dad, no, I want to stay here!" I all but beg, wide eyed at his words.
"I don't want you staying here, I don't want you anywhere near here!" My hearing goes silent after that, but there's an obnoxious ringing... Did he just say that? That he wants nothing to do with me, that he doesn't want me anywhere near him?
He says a few more things, but I don't care enough to hear them, all I can manage to do is stare straight forward in a daze. I travelled so far, but not even my father wants me around anymore.
I was right, I should've just disappeared; I'm the catalyst of every fight, had I never been born, maybe they would still be together?
I don't remember much that happened after, just my father rolling his eyes as he drags his palm tiredly over his face. He walks me to the spare bedroom and tell me to get some rest, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep after the words we traded.
I'm not quite sure how long I lay in that bed before I hear my father talking from the living room, I tiptoe out of bed and look through the cracked door, he seems to be on the phone.
"You think I wanted her here! Listen Holly, I'm sending her back on the train tomorrow, alright? Make sure she doesn't comeback to New York." He sounds tired, annoyed, upset... I guess he really doesn't want me here, but I know my mother doesn't want me either.
I wait until my father's all but drunk himself to death, it's around 0100 in the morning before he's passed out on the couch, empty bottles on the coffee table. I cling tightly onto my backpack, walking to the front door as quietly as possible, opening the door slowly before sliding into the hallway and closing it with a dull 'click.'
The ride down was eerie, and it became even more so when I exited the apartment building. The darkness enveloping New York made the environment look quite scary, especially with only the light from the full moon and some blinking lamp posts to light my way. There was still some people out walking, most were either drunk or homeless, so I tried to pass by silently and unnoticed; my goal is to reach the airport before sunrise and buy a ticket out of the country, anywhere as long as it's not here.
I would've preferred to hail a taxi, but I can't risk not having the funds to afford a ticket, though neither of my parents want me, they still have an obligation to find me. Since I'll be paying for the flight in cash, there'll be no tracking where I went, unless the person selling me the ticket remembers my name, face, and flight destination; but I highly doubt they'll check the airports first.
When I finally arrive, the sun is just beginning to raise above the horizon, the streets are getting a little more busy with 6am traffic, and there is now light foot traffic along the sidewalks.
I was coming up on the airport, I can tell because the planes kept getting louder and louder. I'd been thinking during my entire walk on where I wanted to go, it would be suspicious for a 12 year old to ask what flights are available to anywhere, especially without an adult present.
I've chosen to go to Germany because I've always loved the language and have wanted to visit since I was 5; I've also formulated a story should I be asked any questions. I'm going to say that I'll be visiting family in Cochem, Germany. I remember reading about that beautiful place in a travel magazine, it looked nice enough and I also can't remember any other place. If they want more info, I'll say I'm specifically visiting my Uncle who lives there, that I'll be staying there for the summer. They shouldn't be asking much after that though, so I should be all good.
I push open the terminal doors, and immediately locate the booth where you can purchase a ticket. The lady behind the desk looks nice, she sounds polite as she finishes up talking with another employee before turning to me. She looks a little surprised to see just me, but she quickly recovers.
"Hello, how can I help you?" She questions sweetly.
"Hi there, I was wondering if you have any flights today heading over to Cochem, Germany?" I respond, I try to sound mature, but I'm not sure if it worked as I notice her raise her eyebrow humorously.
"Well, let me check real quick." She clicks a few times on her computer, tilting her head as she shuffles.
"There aren't any flights to Cochem since they don't have an airport." She states.
"What does that mean?" I ask, scrunching my eyebrows as I think my plan may be ruined.
"It just means we find the closest airport to their, and that looks to be Frankfurt Hahn Airport; it's only about 15 miles away." She states nonchalantly, but I'm sighing internally. 15 miles, after how long of a flight? I'll need to get a map too if I don't want to get lost.
"We have a flight leaving at around 0900 with a few seat openings." She continues, showing me the available seats.
"Alright, that works." I state, handing her the cash for the ticket, waiting as she prints it out and hands it to me. I smile in thanks before wandering off to check in and head to my boarding area, I've got a while before my flight, so I guess I'll make myself comfortable.
I don't remember the flight too well, I mainly slept through the flight, having sparse moments of wakefulness when they brought us food and drinks. The people I was seated beside were a kindly older couple, they kept me company and checked in on me; I think they just saw a child alone on the flight and wanted to make sure I wasn't scared or anything.
They would try to talk with me, but I think they realized how tired I was and just let me sleep. They were rather nice, even walking with me off the plane before they separated to go to baggage claim; I didn't need to as I only had my carry-on.
I quickly bought a map from the convenience shop in the airport before heading off on my trek, its around 5am and the sun has yet to rise. The temperature is around 60ºF, so I'm not too cold, I actually welcome the chill as the movement will warm me up in no time.
_______
I've been in Cochem for around 3 weeks now, and I must say that I really should have thought this through. I swapped all my USD over into euros, but I barely have enough to afford food everyday, not to mention I have no place to stay, hotels are far to expensive to even think of. Learning german has also been more complicated than I thought, I assumed it would be easier since I'm immersed in the culture, but it's all just been one big shock for both my body and mind.
Some of the shop owners have started to recognize me; I think they have their assumptions and know I'm homeless, sometimes they'll give me something to eat free of charge. I also can't risk speaking to them in english, I can't risk anyone knowing I'm from the United States, that would only heighten their suspicion on why I'm here instead of in the US. So, for the time being, I'll just have to come off as mute until I learn the language.
_______
It's been a particularly harsh past few days, the temperature has been dropping lower than usual, and my deteriorating clothes haven't been doing much to conserve my body heat. The local children have also taken to terrorizing me, I think they've been making fun of my clothing and muteness (I am now able to mostly understand them after some tutoring from a friendly shop owner).
Sometimes, they'll try to grab my bag, I've had a group of them chase after me just because I wouldn't let them steal my backpack. Their parents either don't notice or don't care, either way, I'm on my own.
They haven't caught me yet, and I can't say what they would do to me if they did. Would they just grab my bag and leave? Or would they want to hurt me for having the audacity to run? Maybe they just chase me because they find it funny, or maybe I have good reason to evade them?
It was actually during one of these chases that I ran into the man that would come to replace my father over time.
It was routine at this point, a group of 6 or so kids would spot me and give chase, I would see them coming and take off. So far so good, I'm dodging the adults that go on with their lives, trying not to get hit by cars as I sprint across the road.
I'm doing really good actually, I turn around to catch a glimpse of them, they got stopped at the road by passing traffic, yes!
I look forward just as I turn a corner, running straight into someone, they are larger than me, barely being affected by the collision. I, however, had toppled down to the ground , scraping up my palms on the ground as the flail out to catch me.
Tears well in my eyes at the stinging pain, I can feel as the grit and dirt dig into the wounds as they rub against the cobblestone. I quickly glance up and see a tall man with short blonde hair, his eyes are a striking blue; they make me think of my father's eyes, how his aren't as striking as this man's.
I observe his expression, his eyes widen only slightly, showing his surprise about being barreled into so unexpectedly. He looks very professional in what I can best describe as a business casual suit, but something about him makes him seem like more than what he shows. This strange man, he holds an air of authority, power, I could almost describe him as threatening.
My thoughts are drawn away by the trampled footsteps behind me. I quickly scramble up from the floor, ignoring the pain in my hands as I snap my gaze to the corner I had rounded. I look just as the others come around, they halt as well at the sight of me and this adult.
I lock eyes with the groups leader and immediately begin sprinting down the road, I can hear them giving chase immediately, shouting that no one cares enough about me to help. The tears already welled up in my eyes begin to cascade down my face; they're right, not even my own family wanted, how could I expect that strangers from a different country would want me either?
In my moments of self-pity, I step into a crevice, I was unprepared for the change in level and feel my knee giving out. I tumble to the ground in a flurry, scraping my limbs against the harsh ground. I curse at myself, attempting to stand, but this fall may have done me in, my legs feel like they are on fire, and my left ankle feels heavy and stiff, as though it was being strangled.
Looking up, I notice that I've fallen in a rather secluded area of town, almost no foot traffic here at all, so these miscreants will have a field day, I wonder what they'll actually do now that they've finally caught me.
They surround me, two of them ripping my backpack from me despite my struggle to keep hold of it. The leader marches forward and shoves me, allowing them to grab the bag away. They unzip it before turning it upside down, shaking everything out onto the floor.
We watch as clothes, food, paper and pens tumble out. They look disappointed when nothing else appears, what were they expecting, cash? As if I have any left...
The leader and his lackeys roughly lift me from the ground, having to hold me up since my legs have stopped functioning. Just as they're about to speak, a stern voice erupts from behind them.
"Aufhören (Stop)." They all freeze, the boys looking back to see who interrupted them. I look as well, though it took a lot of effort.
There, standing imposingly a few steps away is the man with the blue eyes, I ran into him, what is he doing stopping these boys from hurting me?
"Was (What)?" The leader questions, he tries to sound stern as well, but I can see him shrinking away when the man steps closer.
"Verpisst euch, lauft zu euren Müttern (Fuck off, go run to your mothers)." He growls in a deep tone, I can feel the disgust in his voice when speaking to these boys.
They apparently don't need to be told twice, they release me, allowing me to crumple to the floor as they bolt away in the opposite direction. I feel dazed after everything that happened, but looking down at the ground, I can't help but feel despair swelling in my throat. Among the content of my bag was a picture of me and my parents, they're smiling and happy, and so was I. That was our last photo together before the fighting started again.
I reach out and grab the crumpled photograph, gently bringing it up so I could cradle it. I glance at the stranger as he steps closer before kneeling down. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't for him to begin collecting my belongings and putting them back into my bag.
I can tell he has his suspicions upon viewing my dirty clothing, the toothpaste and toothbrush, as well as the bits of old food wrapped up for later. He finishes zipping up the bag before gently placing it in front of me.
"Wo ist deine Mutter? Dein Vater (Where is your mother? Your father)?" He questions with a concerned tone, I glance into his eyes before quickly looking away. He's very intimidating, even when he's being so nice.
"Weg (Gone)." I reply solemnly. My parents may not be dead, but I don't plan on ever going back, they're better off without me.
"Nun, wer ist für Sie zuständig (Well, who is responsible for you)?" He asks again, hoping that someone is out there looking after me. I sadly, can't give him that answer, it would be wrong to lie to the man who saved me.
"Nur ich (Only me)." I respond, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I'm terrified, what if he turns me into the authorities, or puts me in an orphanage? Or worse, what if he takes me back to New York!
"Nur Sie? Hier draußen (Just you? Out here)?" He sounds shocked, his eyebrows scrunch up in worry, a distant look appearing in his eyes. He tilts his head in thought, of what, I'm unsure. He stands abruptly, and I'm sure he's going to leave, allow me to be alone again; but I'm the shocked one now when I notice his outstretched his hand.
I analyze it for a few seconds, wondering whether I should accept it, what happens if I do accept it? Is this a mere action of kindness before leaving me, or will this lead to more actions occurring? So many questions in my head silenced when I reach out and place my hand in his, allowing his firm grip to pull me off the floor.
My legs are still regaining their senses, but he supports me as I try to remember how to stand. I look down at my legs and notice the scrapes and cuts along them, mostly localized around my knees as they are what I fell on during my tumble. I shift my gaze up to my hands, they are so small against his, knuckles scraped and bleeding from sliding against the ground.
I tilt my head at them, so many injuries in such a short span of time, how will I fix them? I don't have any bandages on me, and I certainly can't afford to buy any.
"Komm, ich bringe das in Ordnung (Come on, I'll fix it)." I just nod my head, who am I to rebuke against his orders, especially after how he's treated me?
"Wie ist Ihr Name (What is your name)?" My words are slow as I try to remember what to say, I am doing better at understanding what is being said, but have trouble speaking the language. I can see the man raise an eyebrow, I almost think he won't answer me.
" Simon. Und du (Simon. And you)?" He states, walking with me through the town market, grasping my hand tighter when he notices the group of boys that had been terrorizing me cross the street.
"Y/N." I respond quietly, it's almost a whisper. It's been so long since I've spoken, let alone this much; I haven't said my name once during my stay here, so it's a strange feeling.
_______
After that day, Simon took me in, cleaned my wounds and bandaged them, gave me a hot meal to eat, and a room to rest in.
He unofficially adopted me after a year, explaining to me that I'm like a daughter to him, and that he want me to see him as my father. He didn't have to ask though, I've seen him as my father since the day we first met.
The first months were hard if I'm being honest, I had no idea how to act around a father figure, especially not after what happened with my actual dad. I was a lot more skittish, scared of maintaining eye contact, terrified by the slightest raise in his voice. Those behaviors began to melt away when I realized he wouldn't push me away, that he actually invited my company and tried to do things that I enjoyed - such as painting with me, or taking me into nature so I could write poems in the serene environment.
He asked me quite early on who my parents were and what happened. I was afraid that if he knew they were alive, that he would send me back to them; but I never was able to lie to him. I told him the truth about my parents, who they were, why I ran away, etc. He talked to me about it, and actually explained to me the dark history between his brother and my father.
He was empathetic towards me, explaining that he had similar feelings of displacement when he was staying with his family; it felt good having someone that could relate to me. He would reassure me during times of self-hatred, comforting me, stating that I was never the problem, that my parents should've never made me feel that way. He promised me that he will never allow them to treat me like that again.
The adoption was a quiet affair, he had documents for me falsified so that it stated I was a German citizen that he adopted out of the orphanage.
Yes, I know they were falsified, and I know all about his side of business; he told me the night beforehand what type of person he was, as well as the types of jobs he does. I'll admit, he caught me off guard since he's quite amiable, but I suppose everyone has sides that no one understands.
Some of his close friends that he works with were there to witness my adoption, they were polite and friendly as well. I had never felt more accepted in my life than I did when I was with Simo–my father, and I don't plan on ever letting go of this feeling.
I just need a month
A month to just fucking lose myself
A month of not being able to get out of bed
A month of not taking care of myself
A month of barely eating
A month of no responsibilities
A month of SH
A month of substance abuse
A month please
And then I’ll get my shit together
I promise
Essay Blackout - Sopapillas
A lot changes when you’re high on too many painkillers.
An abnormal pain,
Who is going to stop you?
No choice but to comply.
Set off.
I stumbled through the glass doors,
Anxious of that craving.
An awkward fool,
I had been ranting on the ride there.
There is one disappointment in life,
I’ve tried to look for better,
And never succeeded.
(tw mentions of substance abuse)
on the tail end of last year i decided to turn off all my notifications & calls permanently, i can't bring myself to ever turn it back on, even on complete silence.
i'm reevaluating my place in this world & everyone that surrounds me, something needs to change and i don't believe it can start until i break this vicious cycle i have been caught up in.
alcohol is the one & only drug to give me psychosis and has been the most inescapable fuck of a substance to ditch. i keep having episodes i don't remember and suffering the consequences in ways i couldn't have imagined.
im going back to the doctor again, as scary as pharmaceuticals are to me i need my temporary placeholder back before i do something stupid on the streets.
i just want to start again, to breathe my own creativity & to be surrounded by the energy of those who will bounce that back to me.
i want to be my own person, i just need to let go of everyone & everything that pins me down.
LIVE NOW
The Vermissian Sages apologise for the delay, which was due to technical difficulties
The delayed Actual Play UK voyage to the City Beneath will now depart
this Friday at 8pm UK/2pm Central
32 -
I did something. I don’t want to admit it but I need to get this off my chest. I promised to always be honest here, if nowhere else. I got ahold of some pain pills. And now I feel anxious and guilty. I mean duh? What else did I expect?
But at the same time, I have a secret. It feels good in the way that knowing something that only you know feels good - knowledge is a private power. I feel sneaky and a little clever. There’s a rush to doing something and knowing you likely won’t get caught.
I’m so committed to my recovery. To actually sit with the hard stuff, not just numb it out. To living with integrity. To pursuing my dreams.
Or so I thought. Getting ahold of them was instinctual. I didn’t really think twice about it. Okay…not true, I debated on it for a while. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t convince myself not to. It was so easy. There was no way I could be found out. And I’d have a good time for a few hours.
Or rather, I didn’t want to think twice. I wanted them, plain and simple. I wanted to have them because I knew I could.
If I were to take them - I don’t have any intention of getting more. I wouldn’t even know where to go or who to ask. I just wanted them for a fun little afternoon. Nothing more. I’m not trying to escape my feelings or using them as a crutch. I have the capacity and tools these days to work through my problems, sober. They just feel good.
I guess I could describe it similar to non-alcoholics who want to enjoy a glass of wine while they have a quiet night in.
But I feel guilty because it’s not for the right reasons - who uses pain pills to have a “fun little afternoon”? (10 points if you guessed - an addict). And I didn’t get ahold of them in a trustworthy way. If I take them, does it count as a relapse? I don’t want to start over. If I take them, am I unwittingly taking a step down that path again? Can I really say it’s not a choice when here I am, self aware, and still making the choice anyway. They say you will always be in recovery, you can’t cure addiction.
But no one knows, except me.
It’s a decision based upon deceit and selfish intentions. Can I live with that?
I was thinking about them before I went on this trip. I knew they’d be around. If I really was committed to my recovery, then I would have taken precautions, not made plans. Right?
My recovery is still my recovery. I struggle with the idea that abstinence of all for the rest of my life, is the only option (except it is definitely for alcohol). For me - if I can understand the root of why I used to begin with, then I can identify when those feelings come up and sit with them instead of escaping. People use the high to fill a void in something. If I have a foundation of healthy coping mechanisms for negative feelings, then who’s to say I can’t have a fun little afternoon and that’s all it will be?
Or I’m just full of shit and I sound like every other addict out there trying to justify and rationalize why this will be okay. It’s a compulsion of the mind. The fact that I’m even analyzing this….I really don’t know.
33 -
I don’t regret it. I took them and I did have a fun little buzzy afternoon. I took them because I had to make a decision otherwise it would have weighed heavily on my mind. But I knew that this was how it was going to play out, even before getting them. Like I said, I made plans instead of taking precautions.
I’m so indecisive because I think very deeply about outcomes, that often I make a big decision impulsively and just live with the consequences. In a way, I’m afraid to commit.
The difference from the past, is that I was aware and consciously made this choice.
To be honest - I wanted more in the moment. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to go higher, summit the peak. To dance on the line between life and not life. The exhilaration of standing at the precipice. But that’s the thing right? It’s never enough. It will never be enough.
I woke up the next morning & had no desire to do that again.
I’m still sober from alcohol and other drugs. I don’t count it as a relapse. Some might say otherwise, but this is MY recovery. Real, raw and authentic. No hiding here. I own my decision. I am still committed to the bigger picture.
I’m not sure it was worth it. I guess I knew deep down it wouldn’t be, but I still had to do it to prove it. I couldn’t let it go (it would be a waste!). Unfortunately, I am the learn-by-experience type. And sometimes, a few experiences before it really sinks in (lol).
And so we continue on, same as before.
I have more to live for these days. I enjoy my life and I feel excited at what’s to come. I love the people I have, fiercely and selflessly. I have faith in something greater than me. Most importantly, I have faith in myself. I know I have changed. I know I will continue to change. I have humility and an open mind. Those parts of me that were a collection of tiny fragments…well, they aren’t so broken anymore.
Drugs and alcohol will not bring me the validation I seek. They will not give me purpose or increase my value. I know that. I am not that version of myself any longer.
Each day, a little better and brighter.
38 -
The urge to drink or use is so strong. I can feel my resolve weakening. I’m feeling really out of balance right now (moved halfway across the country, my dog isn’t adjusting well, not sleeping or eating well, it’s cold, just to name a few reasons) and what I would give for a glass of wine, at the very least.
That’s the thing though, it’s never just one glass. Not for me anyway. *what I would give for a bottle or 3.
What’s beautiful about sobriety is that I can recognize this out of balance feeling. I can check myself. I can feel that I want to escape my body, my life - anything to get away from the thrumming anxiety in my chest. The swirling thoughts in my brain. The fatigue, the zoning out, the apathy. I can recognize it and I can talk about it. So I did.
I know that drinking and using won’t solve my problems. I know that they will actually make everything worse, especially the anxiety. I know that this feeling - this too shall pass. I know that feelings, especially the deep scary ones, they don’t just “go away”. You can’t run from them. They’re like your shadow, always creeping behind your back unless you step completely into the light.
So yeah, I’m just kind of stuck here. Holding on by a thread. Sitting with it.
Our movers haven’t brought our stuff yet (going on 10+ days) so that’s really frustrating because I feel like I can’t get fully settled in. Feeling so much guilt that my dog isn’t adjusting well - she’s been barking her head off at every little noise and she scared the maintenance men. I know everyone says this, but she IS really sweet. Like annoyingly sweet. She loooves people and thinks she’s a 65lb lapdog. She’s just a little high strung at first. So I feel like I could have, should have done more for her as I raised her. Regret maybe. Our stuff isn’t here, so we’re living off of frozen meals and it’s throwing me off, especially because I’m picky.
Also it’s very cold. I didn’t think it would be as cold as it is, but I think it’s the extra moisture in the air - the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. Regardless, it’s breathtaking here. My skin is drinking it alllll up.
I don’t really know when drinking and using stopped being about the thrill of taking my mind elsewhere, the novelty of doing something new - something bad. Having a secret. At some point, it became what I needed. I couldn’t handle a single fucking feeling on my own. Happiness or sadness, it was all too much. When did I stop being able to handle anything sober? When did I stop recognizing myself?
There’s this moody, speakeasy type bar down the street and I keep thinking how easy it would be to slip away and get my fix, no one has to know.
But then I’d be lying to everyone. More importantly, I’d be lying to myself.
So, I’m trying to hang in there even though it’s so damn hard. I think I’ll go to a meeting. I think I’ll meditate on my greater She - surrender again to Her plan. Remember I am not in control, relieve myself of the burden.
Faith is funny. It’s not like one day you just wake up and *poof* have it - as I’m learning. It’s a conscious choice every day, to surrender. How easy it is to forget that…
I’m hitting 90 days on Monday & I won’t throw it all away just because of stress. I’m the woman in the arena, always. I can do hard things.
Each day a little better and brighter.
56 -
Sometimes I look around and I wonder if everyone questions their sense of reality as much as I do.
I feel like something is about to crack.
Možná to byla falešná vzpomínka, možná se to stalo později.
Autor se prohrabuje krabicí starých deníků a snaží se chronologicky seřadit události tak, jak následovaly za sebou. Je to těžký, protože musí doplňovat mezery mezi jednotlivými událostmi, zámlky a vynechávky, když věděla, že to, co se jí děje, je příliš hrozné, než aby se o tom dalo psát v deníku, příliš to bolelo, než aby to rozpitvávala znovu ve vlastní hlavě, znovu a znovu to prožívala. Vytěsnění, snaha o tom nemluvit, nepřemýšlet o tom, dělat, že se to neděje.
Fight or flight?
Boj nebo útěk?
Vždycky to byl útěk, vždycky to byla její weapon of choice. Od úplnýho začátku, nejdřív jako maladaptivní snění během dne, snění o lepším světě, snění o někom, kdo jí pomůže, snění o drogách, které by si mohla vzít a všechno v její hlavě by se konečně ustálilo, uklidnilo, utišilo. Ve 13 si píše o deníku, jak by si přála mít po ruce trávu, která by to všechno vymazala. Ve 13 se poprvé opije pivem a vínem a okamžitě si tuhle formu útěku od sebe zamiluje. Alkohol jí přináší euforii, kterou si přeje cítit pořád místo svojí melancholie a úzkosti. Krade cigarety a namlouvá si, že mají taky moc změnit stav vědomí. A pak je tu sebepoškozování, další forma útěku. A mnohem, mnohem později si konečně obstará i tu trávu, éčko a dokonce perník...Ale ta touha po útěku, ta snaha se dostat “někam pryč”, tu je možné najít už v době, kdy jí bylo 13.
Predispozice k vytvoření závislosti, predispozice pro budoucí průsery. Možná je to nediagnostikovaný autismus, který je přidán do toho mixu jako divoká karta mnohem později, ale docela dobře vysvětluje, proč se cítila celý dospívání jako vyvrhel. Mozek, který funguje trochu jinak, je trochu jinak nadrátovaný a tím pádem trochu jinak vnímá realitu. A samozřejmě je to něco, co ostatní jaksi instinktivně vycítí, jako pach cizí kočky. Kolikrát si v deníku pokládá otázku, co je to “to”, co ji vyčleňuje? Proč si vybrali ji, zvlášť když ještě před pár roky byla tolik oblíbená a “ta chytrá”?
Dynamika se změnila poté, co přišly další děti z mnohem menší, mnohem zanedbanější a podfinancovanější školy. Přinesli s sebou nové formy tortury, protože to byl asi způsob přežití tam, když máte mezi sebou mladé sociopaty a děti z vážně dysfunkčních rodin, kde se objevuje násilí a zanedbávání. Začne si myslet, že je to slabost, kterou z ní cítí, že dokáží rozpoznat ten jiný pach někoho, kdo je slaboch...
Byla dřív slepice nebo vejce? Byla deprese následkem nebo příčinou? Mladá duše vysoce senzitivní malé holky, trhaná na kusy mezi těmi hormony a agresí poháněnými kluky, kde neexistuje nic, co by převyšovalo hmotu, tělo, maso... Nebo melancholie, která se jednoho dne snesla tak, jako generace předtím a začala malou holku nutit k izolaci a podivínství, které se dalo přehlížet a tolerovat jen do určitého bodu? Byl to tlak od jejích 13, otázky, kdy si najde kluka a jestli už někoho má, podprahový signál, že je koneckonců žena, zatím v kokonu adolescence, ale jednou bude jejím posláním plodit a vařit? Že je koneckonců masem, jen masem a tělem k naporcování? Vyrůstat v oblasti, kde se daří katolické víře, vám vyleptá v mozku nečekané spojnice a cestičky. Bylo to vyhoření z tlaku, který na sebe kladla od 1. třídy? Celou svou posranou existenci zaměřuje na to, aby byla nejlepší, a tak se hroutí, když dostane z matiky 2-. Byl to táta a jeho selektivní slepota k jejímu snažení, byla to jeho agrese a facky, jeho smsky, ať si nezapomene žákovskou ve škole? Byla to jeho totalita, rozpadající se ego založený na práci a píli, o něž přišel během krátké doby na pracáku? Byl to pradávný gen, malfunkce v mozku, která zařídila, že její praděda zkousl hlaveň brokovnice a stiskl spoušť? Byly to stejné neurony, které má její babička v hlavě a které bez přestání vystřelují chemické vzruchy blížící se zkázy, Apokalypsy a Armageddonu, zatímco leží v posteli a snaží se usnout s tepovkou 200/m? Byla to ta věc, o které se nemluví, ale opona postupně padá, když zjišťuješ, kolik příbuzných je na antidepresivech?
Jak se stane, že se člověk zblázní?