Information


Pudding Pie has a minion!

Anxiety the Deranged Monster




Pudding Pie
Legacy Name: Pudding Pie


The Reborn Tigrean
Owner: GAMECUBE

Age: 7 years, 2 months, 4 days

Born: February 25th, 2017

Adopted: 7 years, 2 months, 4 days ago

Adopted: February 25th, 2017

Statistics


  • Level: 7
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 11
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 27
     
  • Books Read: 27
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Soda Supplier


Definitely a work in progress..


Oh and possibly anxiety, ptsd etc triggers below, please don't make yourself anxious just so you can read a pile of crap that's poured out my head onto this page


Heavy rain batters the hood of my old, worn coat as I stare blankly down the road, awaiting the route 21 bus home. The dreary weather reflects my mood; I'm exhausted from another day of the same old struggles. The streets are busy at this time of the afternoon; many worn out shoppers with aching feet and armfuls of bags wait alongside me, chatting loudly to their friends. Smartly dressed businessmen and businesswomen impatiently sigh as they glace at their watches. The bus is late. The unplanned delay in my journey home triggers the familiar feeling of Anxiety crawling up my back. It claws at my skin, and I fight to ignore it. I've done this journey every day for six months now, and the bus has been late more often than not, but Anxiety doesn't care, it doesn't discriminate against what is a real threat and what's a genuine reason to panic. A sudden, sharp squeal from an excited child sends Anxiety scraping down my spine, and my heartbeat quickens. I turn my attention back to the road, and notice my bus splashing its way towards me. What I should be feeling is a wave of relief - in roughly half an hour, I'll be welcomed home by a wag of the tail and a face lick or two from my best friend. But instead, Anxiety digs its claws in harder. "What if the bus doesn't stop for you?" It whispers in my ear. "Where's your bus pass, huh? In the gutter perhaps, probably not in your pocket, you're terrible at keeping things safe. Can't even keep yourself safe..." Shutting out the memory that's trying it's best to distract me, I fish about in my pockets to find my battered old pass that was most definitely there, or at least it had been about five minutes ago, which is the longest I can go without checking it's not mysteriously disappeared. Just as I join the queue to board the bus, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and anxiety sticks yet another claw into my back. "Oh look, a text, you don't get those often.. It can probably wait," Anxiety whispers, "or what if it can't?"

I really need to start keeping it on silent.

I yank my phone out of my pocket, angered by the control this illness has on me.

Pet Treasure


Scaredy Cat

Worry Dolls

Petrified Turd

Crunchy Hairball Control Cat Treats

Pet Friends