#I wrote this so I could get therapy because I don't know how to handle this

[whirlwindimagines]

I wanna give vash a comforting head pats and some loving head scritches, tell him he has been working hard and needs to rest sometimes, the world not going anywhere, he can rest. May I request a scenario of vash sad he didn’t save everyone again and is sad, so reader hesitately reaches up to his head before deciding to give him a head pat, telling him he did his best with the circumstances he had, it’s not his fault for being unable to save absolutely everyone, and all that matters is he saved at least someone, and that’s enough? Plz and thanks

Okay but same ;p; Like let me hold Vash and tell him everything is gonna be okay! Studio orange let Vash be happy challenge, please. I’m a little sad, so lol this reflects that for sure This definitely got out of hand and turned into something else 

Lol you can tell I wrote this after my therapy session.

‘I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror’

Vash x Reader

You wonder how Vash can continue like this, the gunfight had been as usual destructive and deadly. Neither of you made out of it unscathed and the town had suffered as well, it broke your heart how much Vash tried to make things right. How he didn't want to hurt anyone or let anyone get hurt, but you can't save anyone and especially not alone. 

Vash had gone off on his own, he checked you for injuries and was distressed to find one. You brushed him off, saying you were fine and that you would take care of it and now you have no idea where he went. He wouldn't leave you here by yourself, you weren't worried about that. But you were worried about him. 

Briefly, you wondered how Vash would handle this, but you knew it would be fake smiles and white lies, he must be tired you were tired of it. The suns were setting now, casting the desert in a purplish red light. You sigh standing and brushing the sand from yourself, you’ve done all you can to help the people here and they didn't want any more help from Vash the Stampede. 

Wandering around the town you found Vash with the Thomas, he’s petting it gently Vash was much better with the creature than you were. You join his side quietly and he greets you with a small wave and a light smile. You try to greet him with one of your own but you can’t you are tired of the fakeness God you want Vash to express some emotion, sadness hell you’d take anger something. 

“Are you okay?” you don't know why you ask; you could repeat his response word for word I’m fine are you okay?

“I’m fine are you okay?” his response pisses you off, you knew the words were coming but you were sick of it. You clench your fist at your sides, wanting to get angry, but you know that’s not what Vash needs right now. You can be angry on his behalf later; he stares at you confused as you deflate. 

“No Vash I'm not okay.” he looks startled, his hands hovering over your body unsure if he should touch you, wishing he would, you step closer to the blonde as he speaks, “Where are you hurt?” shaking your head, he only looks confused you don't know how to express your hurt to Vash. Because it’s not your physical pain that’s hurting you right now, it’s his hurt you care about. You want to cry for him, to scream out and curse the world, because you know he never will, and that’s what hurts. 

Taking a step closer your bodies are nearly touching, you reach a hand up and place it gently on his head. “You did your best, you know that right?” you ask and you can hear the stuttering breath he takes in, he looks directly into your eyes and you can see his begin to water. You smile kindly at him, patting his head gently before running your fingers through his hair so your hand is resting on the nape of his neck. 

He may not want to hear this, but you know he needs to. “Not everyone can be saved, and that is not your fault. God Vash, you do your best every day, and if no one else sees that I do, I see you. We will get through today.” You pull him in closer, gently resting your forehead against his, you can feel him tremble as the tears slowly drip down his face. You hold him to you lightly, giving him a chance to pull away if needed. You don’t want him to, but you know you can only push Vash so much.

He doesn’t pull away instead he raises his hands and cups your face, holding you there so you can't pull away. You startle a bit when you feel his thumbs wipe your own tears, you didn't even realize you had been crying yourself. “It’s just….” You don’t say anything while Vash struggles with what he has to say. You’re hoping he’ll be honest, and not bottle up all the pain.

“I don’t know how to move forward” the words are whispered against your lips, as if he’s afraid to admit it out into the open. you close your eyes, and your heart breaks. Vash moves back, you think he’ll pull away completely but he doesn’t instead he places a kiss on your forehead, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

Vash pulls you into a hug then, his arms going around your shoulders while yours wrap around his waist, he cries softly and you let him holding on to him tight for as long as he needs. Your hands rub his back under his red coat, “I know, but you are not alone I'm right here and I’ll be right here as long as you need me. Let me help you anyway you need.” you answer trying not to choke on your words, putting as much emotion as you can into your words. 

He sobs, gripping you painfully tight but you don't mind, letting him take all the comfort he can get and asking for nothing in return. His hands shift down your back squeezing again, the action jostles your wound and you let out a pained cry because of it. Vash lets go instantly stepping back. You're shocked by the sudden coldness, your hands hanging limply at your side. He’s looking at you wide eye, “I'm sorry.” he chokes out, he looks like he's going to run you can't let him. 

You move forward quickly, he sees you coming and steps back right into the Thomas the pack animal moves forward startled it causes Vash to lose balance, injury, and boundaries be damned you grab him by his jacket and surge forward he falls straight onto his back and you let the momentum take you with. 

He lands on his back hard, and you land right on top of him straddling his waist you still have a hold of his jacket, “Stop! Don't you dare run away.” you say it a little frantically, “I'm okay really just… stop.” you whisper, he looks up at you his eyes filled with tears. How did you even get here, you didn't mean to be forceful with Vash but you couldn't let him pull away when he was so down on himself. Blaming himself for everything, you know he blames himself for you getting hurt. But these things just happen.

“I just can't seem to do anything right,” he says it with a light chuckle, and you fist the material of his jacket leaning in, you watch his eyes go wide and a blush settles on his face you choose to ignore that. “Vash.” you say his name sternly, and he gulps at your tone, “I am going to say this in the nicest way possible, but if you say one more bad thing about yourself, I'm going to hurt you.” 

You don't really mean it; you could never hurt Vash, but he does this light laugh that sounds real and it makes your heart soar. He grabs each of your wrists, and you loosen your grasp blushing as he looks at you softly. “Okay, I get it… I just don't deserve you, you’re always doing so much for me, and you're so kind! I just feel like-” You cut off his rambling by grasping his hands and intertwining your fingers with him, and you lean forward pressing into him it shuts him right up.

“What did I just say? This world doesn’t deserve you, don't ever think you don't deserve nice things, and comfort. You deserve the world, and I wish I could give it to you.” you pause, your heart beating wildly in your chest, thinking your next words carefully, but you want him to understand. “Can I show you?” 

“Show me what?” his voice drops to a whisper, the suns have long since set and his eyes seem to glow in the moonlight, “How much you mean to me, how much I care.” you wonder if his heart is beating as fast, he nods and you drop his hands they fall limply to his side as you cup his face. “I need you to say it.” 

He takes in a deep breath, the words leaving him in a whine, “Please show me how much you care about me.” he looks so embarrassed, but you smile brightly as you lean in kissing his forehead, “I love how kind you are.” you mutter, he makes a startled noise, but you keep going moving to kiss under his right eye, “How you see the good in everyone.” under his left eye next, “How strong you are, but only use your strength to help those in need.” 

You pull back to check on his face to make sure you're not overwhelming him too much, his eyes are watery again and there is a slight tremble to his lips but he doesn’t ask you to stop or pull away so you continue, kissing him on the tip of his nose, “You put up with me and I appreciated it, even when I'm being difficult.” he lets out a light chuckle at this, and you smirk. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then to his eyes asking for permission to continue, your voice quiet in the night. 

“Please,” he asks and well who are you to refuse, you lean in pressing your lips to his gently, he touches you now finding the courage to do so, his prosthetic resting on your waist, while his other hand comes to rest on the nape of your next. 

You pull back barely out of reach, “And I really love how you never give up, even when it would be easier. You are so good Vash, and if I need to spend every day reminding you of that I will.” 

He lets out a whimper, you lean back into to give him another kiss he holds you close, you feel his grip tighten on your waist. You don’t mind, letting him take as much as he wants. You don’t know how long the two of you stay like this, sharing soft kisses and shy touches. But eventually you pull back, resting your hands gently on his chest. 

“Are you okay? Was that too much?” You ask softly, he opens his eyes to look at you, you can see the blush covering his face, and making you smile. He removes his hands form you, instead covering his whole face to block his blush. “Is that a yes then?” You tease lightly. 

“Thank you…” he says it quietly, and it makes your heart melt, you grab both his wrist and pull them away so you can see his face, placing a soft kiss on the inside of each wrist you smile softly at him. “You don’t need to thank me; I’ll do this every day if you want.”

“Then it really will be too much.” He whines and you laugh getting to your feet and pulling him up. Once he’s standing you drop his hands, “never, I’ll never run out of love for you.” He’s blushing again hands covering his face once more, you love when he gets all shy. You step around him reaching up to tussle his blonde locks, “we need to find our Thomas now.” 

He sighs dropping his hands, “I’ll find her.” You laugh he tells you to wait here and he’ll be back. Watching him leave, you hope that you were able to bring him some comfort. You hope he understood how deeply you cared for him, and that you would continue to be by his side no matter what.

Eventually, Vash came back he held out his hand from the top of the Thomas, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up, settling you in front of him. You thanked him as you grabbed the reins, Vash settled his arms around your waist. Resting his chin on top of your head you smiled, as you moved the Thomas forward, you didn’t know where to head next but it didn’t matter as long as you were together.

[ingravinoveritas]

nabrrie replied to your post "I thought I was the only one who was weirded out by…”

@ingravinoveritas thanks for the answer and sorry for the rant in your askbox, but your blog feels like a safe place. I wouldn't discuss this on other socials bc I don't have the strength to deal with GT fans. To be an unplanned child is a topic that I still discuss in therapy, so seeing it treated so lightly by a mother as excuse to brag about her sex life disturbed me. Interesting that who claims it's wrong to ship D/M bc it's disrespectful to the kids is ok with this. And for that matter, she’s not a high school girl bragging about her boyfriend. The “I shagged DT and you didn’t” attitude is immature and out of place. You’re having sex with your husband… so? We know that you’re married. David is handsome and fans can be creepy sometimes, but she’s an actress, her father was the Doctor - she must know very well how to deal with the fans. I’m sorry if she feels insecure, but I don’t think she’s handling this very well. And, if she does feel insecure, I don’t think it’s about a bunch of strangers online… And you’re right, no mention of the word love whatsoever… (end of the rant, sorry)

@nabrrie No need to apologize at all! I'm glad you felt safe enough to rant in my inbox. The fact that people are refusing to see anything wrong with that caption solely because it was Georgia who posted it is disturbing to me. (I even saw one person say "If this was anyone else I would be disgusted, but Georgia is an icon.") If your first instinct is to be disgusted by that caption, it should not matter who wrote it. It should not matter that it's "British humor" because humor being British doesn't mean it also can't be wildly unfunny or even hurtful. And it's wildly hypocritical to me that these fans who rail against RPF and say how it could harm their children are the same fans who have no problem with Georgia writing a caption like that.

I've said this before, but it bears repeating: Georgia should not be immune from criticism simply because she is David's wife, or because she is an ally to the LGBTQ community. Being an ally does not mean someone can't be rude or a jerk, because human beings are complicated and can be more than one thing at a time. Calling her out for using her kid's birthday post as an excuse to brag about her own sex life is not some outrageous act--it's a reasonable response, particularly from people such as yourself who have experienced the consequences of being an unplanned child.

It's amazing to me how people have read things into her caption, or made assumptions because of it based on what they want to believe her and David's relationship is. I've seen people say it meant "They were madly in love when they had me," but the word "love" was never used anywhere in that caption. They were madly in drunk when they had her (or at least Georgia was), and that's all it takes to have a baby--two people having sex, whether they are in love or not. And at the end of the day, that is what her caption was actually about: Georgia letting us know that she is having sex with David and the rest of us are not.

But she clearly is insecure, because it looks like she actually did respond to one of the numerous tweets criticizing her this morning:

So, let's take a step back here. She's over on Insta bragging about getting to shag David and how great their sex life is, but instead of actually shagging him, she is searching for her name on Twitter again and taking the time to respond to stuff like this. The paradox is quite something, really.

Also, the fact that she does not or cannot recognize that what she said in that caption is not normal seems to indicate that she thinks she can say and do whatever shes wants, regardless of who it affects or whether it sends her kids out into the world with a very skewed idea of what is "normal." Interestingly, though, I don't think we can say that she doesn't care what people think, because if she didn't, she wouldn't be searching her name (again) and looking for comments to which she can respond.

Whatever the case may be, I agree with you that whatever has her feeling insecure has nothing to do with people online (@irvinis has volunteered a particularly interesting theory on your original Ask). And for someone who has dealt with fans for so many years (as you also mentioned), she definitely is not handling this in the way you would expect. I guess we'll have to see if she pushes back against any of the other critical comments...

[messedupfan]

Benefits of Car Troubles (Part 6)

Summary: Matt finds out about Leigh's pregnancy and confronts her about the baby.

A/N: Finally!! The end of this story! This will be the last chapter. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | One Two Three Four Five

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A knock on the front door startles Leigh. She doesn’t know why. She was home alone and Jules is known for forgetting her keys often. But something about the shift in energy in the house made her heart speed up. She takes a breath to calm down before she opens the door and gets the answer to her mental questions. “Matt, Danny, what are you doing here?” 

“Is it true?” Matt asks as he steps forward. 

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she straightens her posture and hopes her baby bump isn’t noticeable. 

“Come on man. I told you to just drop it. You're better off this way.” Danny tries to pull his brother back but he shakes him off. 

“No, I need to hear it,” Matt demands. “Leigh, are you pregnant?” 

Leigh’s heart drops at the question. She had been so careful. She only told her family and you. How could Matt have found out? Not sure how to handle the situation properly she sticks with what she knows best. She continues her charade. She begins to laugh, “Where did you hear something like that?”

“Stop it, Estelle already told me everything. The real reason why you left me in the middle of night.” At Matt's words, Leigh clenches her jaw as she thinks back to the day she left him. She told everyone that he ended it because that just seemed easier. That they were both the cause of their marriage ending. But that wasn't exactly the case. She confronted him about his affair and he immediately started asking for forgiveness. He told her that it had been over for a few weeks by then and that he realized just how much he loved Leigh and that he never wanted to lose her. 

Matt suggested couples therapy or anything to help them work through their issues and save their marriage. Leigh almost gave in to him, well, she did. She told him that they could fix their problems. That she loved him. But once he went to bed she realized that she hated the thought of letting you go more than she did ending her marriage. So she wrote a short letter about how she wasn't sure that she could ever trust Matt again and that there was no relationship without that trust. She packed a bag and she got in her car and she left. She wasn't quite sure how to tell everyone. She didn't want to look like the villain in this story. So, she made up a different one. 

“Matt, let me start by saying—”

“Leigh, I know I said that I didn't want kids but… would you really keep my own child from me?” He cuts her off. 

Her eyebrows draw together. “I guess Estelle didn't tell you the real reason.”

“What do you mean?”

Leigh bites her lip as she rubs her knuckles with her fingers and considers her words to ease him in. “Matt, you weren’t the only one unfaithful in our marriage. This baby, she isn’t yours.” 

“What?” he breathes out as betrayal fills his body. Matt steps back and Danny pulls him away. 

“I always knew you were a bitch,” Danny says over his shoulder as he leads his brother away. Leigh shuts the door feeling embarrassed. She couldn't believe that Estelle would make her do that. She takes a breath to remind herself that she is done with that woman. Never again does she have to be polite to her. 

Still upset, Leigh picks up the phone and calls you. Unable to hear your phone as you work under a car, you don't answer. So she tries you again. Same result. Starting to worry she looks up the office number and calls the shop. Teddy is the one to answer with the company's greeting. 

“This is Teddy, how may I be of service?”

Leigh suddenly feels nervous, she only knows stories about Teddy, she has yet to formally meet the woman. “I-” Leigh isn't sure what she would tell the girl a good reason for disrupting your day would be without giving away too much information. “Dinner,” she finds herself saying. 

“Excuse me? Who is this?” Teddy asks, growing annoyed as she starts to believe it's the prank calling kids.

“It’s Leigh, I'm sorry. I uh I was trying to reach Y/n to uh set up a dinner for the three of us. Because you're important to Y/n and I haven't gotten to meet you yet. I feel kind of bad since they've been forced to sit through so many dinners with my family. And I haven't made the effort to get to know theirs.”

“Oh, that's okay. Y/n doesn't really introduce me to they're partners unless they want them gone. Either I'll take them from Y/n, which is how I met my current girlfriend, or they'll be so threatened by our friendship Y/n will be single again in a week,” Teddy explains. 

“Oh, well, what happens if the girlfriend is the one arranging the meeting?” Leigh challenges. 

“I, huh, that's never happened before. You know what, I say we find out. When is this impromptu dinner?”

“Tonight of course! That won't be a problem, will it?”

“I don't believe so, I will see you at six thirty. I'll bring dessert,” Teddy confirms. 

“Fantastic, I think we'll get along great!” Leigh boasts. Teddy agrees with an awkward laugh as she hangs up. Now she really needs to get a hold of you but first, she has to go shopping for ingredients for dinner. She goes to the grocery store and continues to try and get a hold of you. It’s not until she is putting the grocery bags away in the trunk of her car that you finally call her back in a panic. 

“What’s the matter? Are you okay? Is it the baby?” You rush out as soon as she answers. 

“Woah, woah, calm down, Y/n. Everything is okay,”  Leigh says as she tosses another bag in with one hand. 

“Calm down? Leigh, you called me fifty times!” 

“Okay, I can see why you’re panicking. But really, everything is fine. I was just contacting you to inform you that Teddy is joining us for dinner tonight. I’m heading over now to cook something special for everyone.” Leigh gets into her car and starts the engine. 

“Oh,” you say, confused. “When did this happen?”

“Well, I was calling earlier to talk to you about something but it’s not important anymore. Teddy picked up the store phone and we got to talking and the idea just came to me. You’ve been so good about coming into my life, it’s time I put effort into joining yours.” Leigh pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Sweetheart, you’re so thoughtful. Okay, I’ll head upstairs now to go clean the place up.” You say as you send your last worker home. “I love you. I’ll see you soon,” you grin. 

“I love you too,” Leigh’s heart swells in her chest. It felt good to be able to be free, happy, and in love. 

At a bar near your auto shop, Matt and Danny are being kicked out of a bar after they went well over their limit and the bartender cut them off. The brothers make their way to a convenience store and they purchase a case of beer, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. They stumble around until they spot your shop. Matt remembered seeing a short story written on a piece of paper with the logo. He blinks a few times as he realizes it wasn’t a short story that someone wanted Leigh to review. It was a love letter. 

“Danny,” Matt nudges his brother for his attention. “Danny,” he calls again. 

“Yeah? What?” He slurs and staggers to a stop. 

“There,” he points to the shop. His brother struggles to read the sign and has no clue why Matt was pointing it out. “That’s who knocked up my wife!” Matt says with frustration. 

Danny starts laughing, “Bro, that’s a building! It would have crushed her!” 

“No, no, they work there,” Matt explains. 

“Oooh,” Danny connects the dots and gets as upset as his brother. “Let’s go teach this fucker a lesson.” He marches across the empty street, carrying the case of beer. Matt follows and they bang on the closed garage doors. “Open up you son of a bitch!” Danny shouts as he bangs harder. 

You are confused by the loud noise and open your window to see what’s going on. You roll your eyes as you see the drunk homeless men knocking on the garage gates. You shut the window with a sigh and grab your baseball bat. You walk downstairs and sneak up on the two from the side door. “Come on guys, you have to go. We’re closed.” One that was holding an open case of beer, drops it and takes a swing at you. Luckily, you dodge the hit. “Hey! Woah! There’s no need to get violent. Okay? Just leave or I’ll be forced to call the cops.” Then you see him. The man from Leigh’s photos. You gulp. “Hey, Matt, look. I never intended for things to go this way. She said you guys were getting a divorce.” 

“Oh is that so?” Matt shoves you and you let him. He’s earned a shove. “Where is she right now? She in there? Were you fucking her just now?” He asks angrily as he goes in for another shove. 

“No! No!” You shout as you shake your head. It was clear that he was wasted out of his mind. “She isn’t here. She’s at home. Look, we don’t have to get into anything here. Okay? Just walk away.” 

Matt laughs manically, “Funny that you’re telling me to walk away! When that’s what you should have done! We were happy! Until you came and ruined everything!!” Matt charges at you and you side step him. Letting him run full speed into the metal gate. This agitates Danny and he comes at you again. You run into the building and lock the door behind you. They bang on the door as they scream vicious words at you. 

“Hello nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” The woman says. 

“My girlfriend’s ex and his brother attacked me at my place of business and refused to leave,” you explain to the operator. You give her the address and she says that someone should arrive shortly. You thank her and as the call ends, a rock is thrown through the garage windows. “Shit,” you curse under your breath and head to your office to retrieve a gift from your father. You never wanted to have to use it, but if it scared them away, and kept them from trying anything with Leigh and your family in the future, then so be it. You struggle to get the combination right as more things are thrown into the shop. Fearing for your life, you pray over and over that Leigh doesn’t get here while they’re here. That the cops get here in time. That you get to be there for your friends and family. Not certain of your future, you text Leigh that you love her. 

Leigh is dancing and singing along to her playlist. “I’m so in love that I might stop breathing. Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling. No, I didn’t see the news.” She pulls over to the side when she hears sirens going off. The vehicles are racing down the road and she is curious about what could be happening. When the last one passes her, she resumes her drive as usual and only lowers the car volume when she sees the big cloud of smoke coming from the direction of your business. She drops her foot on the gas, trying to get there fast enough to find out if you’re okay. 

When she arrives, the place is in flames. The windows in your apartment explode from the heat and pressure. “No!” she screams out. Teddy is the one to catch her before she can run into the burning building to attempt to save you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Teddy tries to console the pregnant woman in her arms but she is hysterical. 

“What happened?” Leigh cries out. “I was just on the phone with them!”

“I know sweetie, I know,” Teddy was trying so hard to keep it together. You were her best friend. You meant the world to her. She knows you would have wanted her to take care of the love of your life when you couldn’t. “I don’t know what happened. I came back here because I forgot my keys and it was already like this. I saw two guys trying to run away but the firefighters caught them before they could get away. 

“Why would someone do this?” Leigh feels lost. There was no reason for this to happen. You were a good person. You didn’t deserve this. “Why did this happen?” She cries into your best friend's shoulder. The cops are walking past them, escorting the two men they arrested and Leigh recognizes them immediately. She stops crying in the same second. “Oh no,” she whispers. 

“What? Do you know them,” Teddy inquires. 

Leigh covers her mouth in shock, “This is all my fault.” 

“What are you talking about? Who are those guys?” Teddy presses. 

“My ex-husband and his brother,” Leigh lets out in a whisper as she begins to feel faint. How could everything go so wrong, so fast? 

The building collapses in on itself as firefighters run out of the building without you and the women know there is no hope in finding you alive. Leigh faints and Teddy catches her as she screams out for help. 

“Leigh,” she hears your soft voice call out softly. “Leigh,” she hears it again and she forces her eyes to open. You are standing in front of her with a teary smile and rocking a bundle of blankets in your arms. “Hi, love,” you greet softly. 

Leigh tries to run up to you to hug, but you shake your head as she is blocked by an invisible wall. She hits the wall with her hands, “No!” She cries. “No! This can’t be the end!” 

“It’s not,” you say in a sweet voice as you step a little closer to her with the baby in your arms. “You’ll have him,” you hand her the baby and he passes through the wall. The incident put Leigh’s pregnancy at risk. You wouldn’t let her lose everything in one fell swoop. Especially not to the man she left. “I’ll watch over you two, always.” You promise as more tears roll down your eyes. 

Leigh holds the baby in her arms and lets out a sob as she stares at his beautiful, soft, sleeping features. “Please cross over,” Leigh begs as she looks up at you. “Please, I can’t do this without you,” she continues, she hopes that when she wakes up you’ll be there. In a hospital bed, but alive. 

You lift your lips up in a short smile as you shake your head, “I can’t.” You press the palms of your hands against the wall and they don’t pass through like the baby did. “You are stronger than you know. It will be okay. You have to go back now,” you say as a door opens behind Leigh. “I love you,” you say one last time.

“I can stay,” Leigh tries again. 

You shake your head, “You can’t. It’s not your time yet.” 

The energy from the door begins to pull her closer and you blow her a kiss as you wave her goodbye. 

Leigh wakes up and finds her mom, sister, and Teddy asleep around the room. She wakes them up with her tears. The group of women had decided not to tell her about your passing until she was stable enough but it seems she already knows. They hold her as she cries. 

A few months later, Leigh is welcoming your son into the world. Danny and Matt are being found guilty under first degree murder and are given two life sentences. As Leigh raises your son on her own she teaches him all about you with the help of Teddy. They make you out to be a hero because your memory deserves better than two drunk idiots. Leigh doesn’t marry again. She tries to date but after losing a future with you, she didn’t have it in her to look for another in anyone else. 

Leigh keeps in contact with Teddy and your father so they can be part of your son’s life. She hated the circumstances in which she met the man. She had envisioned a nice dinner where they talked about him becoming a grandfather and possibly gaining a daughter-in-law. She knew you were going to pop the question at some point and she was preparing herself to say yes. 

As the years go by, it gets easier to be without you. Except when your son has big moments. She knows that you’re there in spirit. But she would rather you be right there next to her in life. When he wins basketball games. When he introduces his significant others. Some are boys and some are girls. When he gets into college. When he graduates. The time he comes home to announce his engagement. The wedding. The birth of his first child. She hated that all of these moments were stolen from you. From her. From him. But as she joins you in the after life, you confirm that you were always there and it brings her peace. 

The end.

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @evenbeingcrazy1998 @olsensnpm @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @lizzieinsane

[multiplicity-positivity]

advice-ask/vent. I genuinely just want to know what to do from here on out, because I'm honestly lost and a little scared.

There are a few alters in the system that our gatekeeper alter keeps hidden from me. As far as I know, I'm the only alter that gets this treatment. So I tried talking to the alters by myself. I wrote notes on the fridge, created secret Discord servers, etc. I just wanted to talk to them. Almost nobody in the system ever talks to me.

It's foggy for me, but apparently it worked and I did end up communicating with one of our alters. Somehow I scared him? So much so that our protector alter came out of dormancy to help calm the system. I don't really remember any of this (I think I remember being happy to finally have someone to talk to), I just know our gatekeeper alter fucking hates me, and I messed everything up. Our little alter told me she thinks I'm our persecutor alter.

I didn't mean to do anything bad. If she had told me that talking to alters before they're ready to communicate would mess up the system, I never would have. I just wanted someone to talk to.

yipes, our response got long! so it’s under a cut :)

hey, we’re sorry to hear that you’re struggling with this tough situation. due to your use of the term “alter,” we’re assuming you are part of a system with a complex dissociative disorder. we also have a cdd, so we’ll use our knowledge of these disorders and our own system to hopefully provide some useful insight for you.

our system gatekeeper also works hard to keep certain alters and parts separate from each other. when our host was first learning about the system, he pretty much could only get in touch with me and a couple other parts, and even then our communication was sparse and easily forgotten. in our system, this was done in order to keep our host from learning too much too fast as a means of protection. even now, after 3 years of working together building connections, there are certain parts who aren’t able to access each other. without more treatment and healing progress, this is how our system functions.

our host was the only part initially who was kept isolated from the rest of the system. this is because he fronts the most, and handles most of our day-to-day life. him learning too much about how our system functions before he was ready could have caused some serious repercussions. our mental health has never been great, and our gatekeeper keeping him separated from the rest of the system initially honestly kept him from having a breakdown or spiraling out of control.

it’s to our understanding that lots of cdd systems function this way. healing, recovery, and getting to know alters and parts… these are difficult, lengthy, and often overwhelming processes. it’s quite common for one alter to keep other alters separate or isolated as a means of protection and system-preservation. dissociative barriers can also exacerbate this, or make it even more difficult for alters to be in touch.

for gatekeepers, it can probably be extremely difficult making decisions regarding which alters should interact, what information should be kept hidden, and how quickly to divulge inside information to front-facing alters. your gatekeeper might also be struggling with this, and might prefer to keep you isolated from other alters as a way to play things safe. maybe having some sincere, open conversations with your gatekeeper could help you gain some insight as to how and why they (or she? not sure if that pronoun refers to your gatekeeper or your little) manage your system in the way that they do.

honestly, more than anything, therapy could probably help you and your whole system here. a therapist can help mediate between alters and help you all come to a better understanding about each other and your history. we know that not everyone is able to access therapy, but we truly couldn’t recommend it enough. having an outside perspective and someone outside your system who you can talk freely to really could make a positive difference.

we’re sorry this got so long… and please don’t think that we’re attempting to make excuses for your alters. rather, we are trying to explain what we feel might be going on. trust, communication, and positive bonds/connections do take time, patience, and effort to obtain. and we sincerely hope that you and your alters will be able to achieve this in the future.

good luck to you and your whole system with making progress and reaching mutual understandings in the future!

[jojoturnip]

Maybe what I needed you to understand was the love I had for him.

The love I still have.

I've been making a timeline of my life in therapy. It's split between good memories on top and bad ones on bottom. There's so much bad, that much you were willing to accept, but there is a lot of good, too.

Sometimes it's the good that keeps me up at night more than anything.

A younger me runs around our old apartment carrying the wand he hand-carved me from cherry wood ("all purpose, good for a young girl to learn all sorts of magic on"). I asked him to keep a crystal point off the top unlike the other wands he made because I liked to wave around, and I was afraid I'd hurt something I had a sharp tip. Besides, I loved that wand so much I kept it under my shirt, at the ready for playing pretend any chance I got. I'd have scratched myself to hell and back if he had added a point. He put a piece of polished, smooth citrine on the other end of it so I could at least channel some energy.

Citrine was my favorite stone. Because it was yellow. Because I loved the color yellow. Because it meant happiness and joy and sunshine. Because that's who I was.

He wrote me a song once, before he even got with my mom officially. He named it, "Sunshine Girl." My mom recorded me singing to myself in the mirror as I blow-dried my hair once and sent it to him as he wrote it. I was so embarrassed.

He would pick me up from school a lot, and I loved that part of my day. My elementary school got out earlier than my sister's middle school, so it meant riding around with him and getting fast food while we waited. He would teach me about music on the radio, tell me my voice was much prettier than Melissa's, and listen to all the drama I would bring home from my day.

When he went to auctioneering school, we practiced the tongue twisters together in the living room, laughing about Betty and her butter batter. He graduated as the valedictorian of his class. I cheered him on from the audience.

He taught me to shoot a bow, adjusted my draw weights and sights, cut me grips from his leather scraps, and fixed up the old long bow when I snapped it from pulling it too far. His hands over my shoulders as he taught me how to stand, over my three fingers as he taught me to aim. He made a quiver with me by hand with buffalo rawhide and sheep leather and sinew. He brought home horse hair for fringe but I was too freaked out to add it. He made the fringe from leather and pony beads instead.

The wand and the quiver and a locker we painted together and so many more things he gave me, made for me are sitting in that storage unit I'm supposed to empty. I don't know how to face them all.

I love him. I miss him. I think that's what you'll never be able to understand.

You didn't want to understand.

I have to juggle what he did, how he hurt me, with how he loved me.

We can call it grooming or gaining my trust or a false childhood built in manipulation, but that doesn't change the fact that it was my childhood. My reality. What I know love to be.

You said you couldn't handle cognitive dissonance. Can't you see I was born from it, bred from it, grown and germinated from its hard and rocky substrate?

A friend told me she thinks I drove you insane. The way I hold and stitch these contradictive truths together. I think that's the most reasonable explanation I've heard so far.

A part of me wants to apologize here. I am sorry that my life was too much for you to bear. That it scared you to see me go back to my family, to love people who hurt me time and time again. I know that must've been hard. I do understand where you are coming from.

Another part of me knows that I never asked for you to take that problem as your own. I never asked you to deal with my parents. I never asked you to save me. I didn't want that. I just wanted someones shoulder to lean and crash on while I carried the burden myself.

Instead, you told me that it was too much for you.

Instead, I supported you through every goddamn second of you refusing to take care of yourself. How was that not too much? You had the option to change. I cannot change my memories, my childhood.

You ask me to lose my family but you cannot get new parents like you can a boyfriend.

You like to compare my situation with you and your ex, a fool's comparison. Your abuser did not raise you. You keep your life when you walk away. You were not made of a boyfriend you met in college. Our situations are different. Our lives are different.

We are different. You never seemed to get that.

My life is tainted. I can't look through rose colored glasses, the stain remains. But I can't get rid of the memories either, or cast them out in distaste. They are a part of me. They are what made me.

I think I needed you to see that.

Remember a week before you broke up with me, you called asking for the explicit details of quite possibly the worst events of my life. Things I can't write about, much less talk about. You said you wouldn't be able to understand me without knowing.

You left me crying on the phone. It was never about understanding.

It took me one and a half years to tell you the bad stuff. It was harder to tell you the good, you know. It's all racing around, conflicting inside of me, too. But if you wanted to understand me, know me like a partner should, it required knowing the good. Seeing me, and how I am built of cognitive dissonance. Seeing the power that it gives me in empathizing with you and others, and the pain that it gives me, too. My existence is a fragile thing.

They were not excuses. They were glimpses into my mind. Into what I go through every single day.

When I let you in, you only wanted to see the bad. But you have to see the good, too. The gut wrenching good that bleeds out of me in yellow. The citrine stones and bamboo arrows and rainbow cheesecakes and Annie lockets.

I'm a storyteller, and I wanted you to know my story. You only wanted to hear a parroted version of your own sung back at you.

I am not you. I never will be.

[rt-lots]

who wants to hear way too much info on my thoughts about being medicated/seeing a psychiatrist/going to therapy? read more for more

this isn't a vent post really i just wanna talk about my thoughts. post is under the cut because if people don't wanna be subjected to my brain then they shouldn't have to be.

im in a really weird spot with my mental health treatment right now because i simultaneously am very adverse to going to therapy but also am annoyed with my doctors' recent attempts to change my medication. im getting tired of going on and off stuff and altering my doses and stuff just because im not like... Good? if i understand it right. im BETTER, and id rather leave it at that then keep trying to fix myself.

which is where it gets weird, because i really, REALLY want to be fixed. it's part of why i don't want to do therapy. i just want my brain to be normal and ill handle the rest on my own. but after talking about drug interactions and side effects and my doctor saying i shouldn't be on stimulants long-term, i realized wholly, certainly this time, that no amount of pills are going to "fix" me. not even therapy "fixes" you. its not about getting "fixed". and it's probably the wrong way of going about things, but MY way of going about accepting this is the desire to just stick with what works. im still depressed, but a few missed weeks have taught me that oh my GOD antidepressants help. where im at with my doses and stuff works! at least it has. like im still depressed Whatever but its manageable, and i think im done trying to do better than manageable.

my doctor put me on new adhd meds to replace my stimulants and that's what's got me all in my head about all this. ive been feeling Not Good when before i could've at least been Not Great. its rough because now how am i supposed to even know WHAT im feeling if anything could just be a side effect of my new stuff? my newest pills came with a fucking behemoth list of side effects and background info so i feel like im not really "myself" while im trying it. (its not really helping my adhd, btw. i don't think ill keep being on these for long, so it's hard to even respect my routine while they're a part of it.)

she described the prospect of non stimulant adhd meds to me as being like "if you were a person all the time, instead of just when you take your pill" but it doesn't feel like that at all. everything's just weird and foggy. my days keep blending together and i feel like im getting more and more tired. im up but im not really awake. and i know this isn't a reason to give up on non-stimulants alltogether- this specific pill just doesn't work for me, and that's fine- but my prescriptions are all fucked up now because of it. like, the pharmacy said they were removing my anti depressants because of these new meds?? can they do that??? and i think they like unsubscribed me from adderall or whatever. so if i wanna go back to normal i need neewwww prescriptions and newww meetings and i don't wANNAAAAA I JUST DONT WANNA BRAH.

i wrote this all out a month ago i think and it actually hasn't gotten any better since. my psychiatrist didn't listen to me when i said the adhd meds don't help and prescribed me bubroprion to help me with staying awake. it doesn't do anything for me and everything's just getting worse. sometimes I don't feel like a person. people say things to me and i have to muster up my last bit of energy to put any emotion into my voice so they don't think I'm uninterested. im tired so so much and I'm spending 12 hours a day in bed. My rigorous routine i set up collapses so easily and when it does it's impossible to recover from. If I don't wake up at 7 my day is completely wasted. im running out of options. i just want to go back to my prior medication. I don't know what is side effects and what is depression and what is some other third thing but I don't even care, I want to go back to when things felt better than when they felt worse. Because fuck, I'm trying so hard and it's getting worse. I don't care that it's nonlinear. i feel like no one even takes it seriously how debilitating this is. i don't enjoy doing anything except engaging in interests and hyperfixations i don't have the energy to engage in. im so so tired. im not doing "not good" I'm doing BAD. my psychiatrist told me she didn't want to give me adderall just so I could sit on my computer all day but im not even awake enough to do that anymore. im so tired. I don't know what to do

[wanderingmind867]

I think a huge problem with how the Avengers turned out in the 80s is the wishy-washy attitude toward Hank Pym, who's already a wishy-washy character because of his constant on-again off-again heroing and the simple inability for any one writer to find a direction for him that could stick. So he got his big moment and it's stained his character for a lot of people, including me. But honestly if that's what Marvel wanted to do with him, they should've made it stick. If Hank is a villainous abuser, he should rightfully be kicked out and reviled, or if you want to play it nice, have him genuinely penitent and staying out of his former friends' lives, and especially making sure he never bothers his victim again. If Hank is a hero, he should never have given into his dark impulses and become an abuser. What we have now is Hank as the missing stair of Avengers mansion, an abuser who not only sullied his oath as a hero, but betrayed and hurt one of his own teammates, but is nevertheless welcomed back into the fold. Not only is he trusted with positions of authority and allowed to mentor vulnerable youths, but he also gets unlimited access to his victim, and everyone cheers whenever she seems ready to reconcile with him. There are real-life nuances to consider, but at the same time, comics always seems to have simple answers to complicated issues. Only when Hank Pym is involved do you have authors bending over backwards to try to prove how he's not that bad and deserves redemption when he's clearly failed to do the only two things his victim asks of him to be forgiven (wholeheartedly apologize without making excuses for him down the line, and then get therapy to make sure it never happens again).

I agree with you, at least to some extent. I have two notes, though:

I think The Avengers began to go downhill when Ms. Marvel was written out in Issue #200. That story was probably the big beginning of the mess. But I think the Hank Pym storyline made everything worse, especially since both these events followed up each other.

I feel like there are ways to have Hank Pym relapse into villainy, while keeping him sympathetic and open to redemption. I wrote my take on that some time ago. Because I have anger issues and mood swings, and so I can all too easily relate to Hank there (and that may not be a great thing to admit, but it is true). So I think it's possible to handle it with nuance. Do I trust a company back in 1981 to handle it with nuance though? That's probably a different matter.

PS: Also, I assume this was written in response to one of my posts. Problem is, I don't know which. So if is in response to one of my posts, can you tell me which? I hope that's not a weird ask.

[alarrytale]

I’ve been studying to become a therapist and one of the first things I’ve been told is that therapy doesn’t work for everyone and isn’t necessarily a cure for someone. Louis never said he opposed therapy. It sounded like it doesn’t work for him. He did take his sister to therapy and rehab, even took her to Egypt for intensive rehab. He also paid for therapy and rehab for that xfactor contestant when he was one of the judges. Lottie has made it clear that therapy helps her and that’s great but again it’s not for everyone. Louis is often in touch with his emotions openly and has teared up many times while performing on stage so that’s not apart of a lad image at all if we’re going to stereotype. He’s also said in Interviews he’s not afraid to cry. Louis is very emotionally expressive when he sings Saturdays also. I was happy to see he included that song during his longer set. Louis must really love that song or has formed an attachment to it because he really lets it all out during singing that song especially. I noticed he does have some of his previous little mannerisms peeking thru more and more these days too. I saw his popped hip make an appearance a few times in these performances recently. Made me smile that he was feeling at least a little more relaxed. It’s good to keep in mind though that we really don’t know Louis. We don’t know how he’s feeling or handling his grief & trauma, nor should we as fans. He could be trying therapy now for all we know. We don’t know how often he drinks outside of the public eye either. So to say he’s handling his grief thru drinking, etc seems like it’s just not our place as outsiders to judge. I do remember Louis losing a lot of weight during the time he must’ve learned his mom was ill til her passing so that was very visible at the time. Dangerously skinny from a few pics. If I remember correctly they even wrote an article about his thin appearance and fans concerns for him. I think Louis is one to see the glass 1/2 full always but in reading some previous interviews and even the article with Lottie yesterday I got the sense that he feels the need to take care of others, just as Lottie does. Emotionally that’s a heavy weight to bear, but I think the optimism thought process does keep him on more of an even keel.

Hi, anon!

I hope Louis at least has tried therapy, before deciding it's not for him. Or that he goes from time to time. I think it should be mandatory for people in the spotlight, people who went from rags to riches, closeted celebrities and people who worked under SC to get help dealing with the pressure, the supression of yourself, the mistreament and having to deal with a shitty, corrupt industry who boycotts you.

I personally think Louis would greatly benefit from therapy. He's lost his mother figure, who he used to tell everything, he heavily relied on his vocal coach (Helene) as a life coach and motivator, and as a confidence supplier. He's got a friend clinging to him wherever he goes and acts as a comfort goat to him. I have never seen anyone more in need of therapy actually. He should be getting professional help. I'm pretty sure Oli's advice to Louis would be to blaze up to forget and repress stuff more. He can't move on until he deals with his issues. He's been pretty stagnant for years now. He's still super nervous before shows. He still relies on liquid curage to do his job, and his stoner brain is affecting his performance. He also acts uncaring about his health and appearance at times and that's concerning.

I don't care what anyone says, Louis would benefit from therapy. He needs to be told he's not responsible for his siblings, he needs to be told he's good enough and make a plan to be less reliant on his bad coping mechanisms and get some healthier ones. He needs to want to do this for himself though, and it shouldn't be forced, but he would benefit from it, i'm sure. It won't fix everything, but he needs to start somewhere.

I also think it's important to distinguish between having an alcohol issue that's born out of surpressed emotions due to trauma vs. not having an issue, but you’re promoting alcohol as something cool to your fanbase and using it to enforce an image. If it's the first he's not to be judged, i just want him to get help. If it's the second, then i take issue with that. If it's the first, masked as the second, then that's enraging and i blame his team. Regardless if it's the first or second option he's promoting it, even if it's unintentional, and i'm just not down with that. I'm not liking what i'm seeing.

[macawritesupdates]

Aww loved the latest prompt chapter so much I'm a big sucker for Yuuji naming a kid after his grandfather it gets me feeling all warm and fuzzy every time. I won't lie I think having an adorable little paradox child running through the timeline causing problems is karma for Sukuna, I hope all of his children are little rascals all their lives. May they all be even bigger brats than their daddy, and may they all have him wrapped around their little fingers. Sukuna telling the kids Yuuji took his other set of arms because he was bad is the funniest thing. I love the thought of him being kind of a silly dad with his kids 10/10. I grew up in a family with multiple speech language pathologists so unfortunately reading little Wasuke's sound substations sent me into multiple flash backs of my mother talking about how she thought my childhood sound substations were super cute but she was always praying that I'd get past them quickly because she specialized in helping the elderly and didn't know pediatric speech therapy techniques so she would have had to ask a colleague for help which would have been super embarrassing to her. Imagine the child of a speech therapist needing speech therapy (I did in fact grow out of the sound substations normally). See I probably spent way too long trying to remember my childhood lectures on speech development instead of focusing on the fluff, lol (side note speech therapists are trained to decide on the best course of action for their patients and stick to it and fight hard for what they think is best which has the fun side effect of making them super stubborn at times if you ever want entertainment get two of them to argue about something they do not back down (at least all the ones I know don't. I can't speak for all of them)). As you can probably guess I really liked the chapter but it sure brought up some memories ok enough reminiscing back to what you wrote. Gojo gets brownie points for being smart enough to ask little Wasuke people's names to figure out who his parents were good choice. Nobbie is an adorable nickname I'm so glad that she's clearly still good friends with Yuuji in the future 💖. Poor Megumi getting roasted huh you would think he'd have grown out of the need to summon at the drop of a hat but nope apparently he does it enough for it to be his defining feature in little Wasuke's eyes. I hope he uses his summons as free baby sitters, imagine the great general adapting vocal cords so it could sing baby shark to the kids (this may seem sweet but its actually an act of strategic psychology warfare against Sukuna by ensuring he'll never escape that song). At the very least, he could call up a bunch of bunnys for the children to run around with to tire them out a bit when they're being rowdy so he can put them down for a nap. Future Wasuke what a cutie is that poor boy trying to keep track of all his past paradoxes so he can go save himself that sounds like so much work good luck little guy. I won't lie time travel paradoxes break my brain a bit kinda glad this is just a one shot so I don't have to think about it too much 😅. Sukuna getting offended at the thought that he couldn't be a good dad was funny love that man. Man all Yuuji's friends handled the fact that he's going to have kids with Sukuna super well that's sweet. Yuuji now gets to tell future Wasuke that he loved him and thought he was adorable even before he was born ❤️💖💓💞💕❤️. Very nice thank you for writing and sharing with us 😀 😊 ☺️ 😄.

Glad you enjoyed! Have a few of these little family prompts to come through, so perhaps more little Wasuke in the future lol Time paradoxes use to confuse me until I realize you just have to complete the circle on them, aka making sure it all happens in the right sequences XD Older Wasuke is so desperate to keep track of it all... working double time!

It was a fun little write as it is fun to write family fics like this <3 makes me excited for when some of my long fics get to this point just for the fluff <3

Thank you so much for the long comments! I love reading them and really enjoyed getting all those little tidbits!< 3

[ratstuckinamarble]

<3 <3 <3

right, third time's the charm- You are someone I am very glad to have 'met' in whatever way the internet lets us.

Not because you're the first person I've ever exchanged drawings with like they were notes passed along on a rainy day, making silly little stories out of woodpeckers and lego toadstoods and trick or treat wishes- Not because I have those drawings printed out, woodpecker and otter hanging on my wall, the halloween ones added to my old lebkuchen box of decorations to be tacked up next year with all the rest- Not because the memory of looking at your art had me picking up pen and paper with a lightness that hasn't been there since I was a kid-

I just love seeing you around on here.

Blocks of tags with rambles- little stories and asides to soak up like a sponge or a plant, reminding me of this or that thought I've had myself- your passion for things, the breath of relief I let out reading something you wrote that says something I can't trust myself with.

The rhythm of your thoughts makes mine very happy, is what I mean. And that you share them- tossing small paper planes of your life out into the world- honest silliness, maybe? It takes bravery and kindness to do it, I think. Even when something upsets you or makes you sad, I'm grateful to see it- these things you care about enough to be hurt by, and to talk about.

From you, I won't argue about how good of a person I am. I'm smiling at the thought that you would think that of me, and I'll makes myself send this little ask to try to tell you back-

thank you for being you.

If tumblr crashes tomorrow and I never hear about you again, I'll always be grateful it lasted this long. I'll remember the rat stuck in a marble, with a skull for it's emblem, hoping you got to do some pottery, snuggled your cat, and had a little hot chocolate, as a treat~

I- I'm at a loss for words...

And crying. Oh words collect yourself into a proper order-

People have said kind things about me before, and it's always brought me joy- but nothing like this. You've cut right into my soul, found things I didn't even know would get to me like this if I heard them.

I want to comment more but re-reading what you said is almost painful, because I was not prepared to take in such words today, or ever. It hurts in the same way as thinking about the beauty in life for too long. I don't know if you understand what I mean- but strong joy, getting overwhelmed with feelings that are good

It's like my little body can't handle it, experiencing things it was not made for. This feeling is bleeding out of me, and I can't even name it. It's not joy. It's... Something better. The knowledge that someone I care for deeply could be made happier thanks to me, my words, my ramblings, my silliness, my art, even the serious and vulnerable moments. Everything. It's like you saw my entire self and said yeah... there's nothing I'd leave out. Oh gosh I'm crying again.

I didn't know you did actually print those drawings out. I've been wondering. I'm so very glad. Bringing you some joy with them is all I wanted. And that someone could appreciate my art this much- especially you. It's like something out of a dream. I didn't know life had such luck in store for me. That I could make art come more easily to someone else again. And you know I love your art. Every time you post something I scramble to get that across, after all. Clunky and anything but concise.

Often I fear that I may be doing too much, coming on too strong, saying so much where others would keep it short. But I've had my years of silence born of paranoia, and I got sick of it. So sick. The reason I started blogging is exactly that, a form of self imposed exposure therapy, I suppose. Every time I'd be afraid to share something, I reminded myself- that's exactly why you should do it. Even if your heart is beating so fast it makes you lightheaded. Which happens rarely now, because this worked, somehow.

And I find myself thinking of a different string of time- where I didn't. Where I let the fear win. Where I never met you and some other lovely people, where all these exchanges we've had, the art and the words and photos of little rocks and tote bags and comics of them running away- never happened. These things that fuel me even when things seem dim. You light something up in me that was previously difficult to cling to- an occasional burst of this spark. Now it is like a little star that has snuggled its way deeply into my heart, refusing to leave.

The rhythm of your thoughts make mine very happy too. I never feel like I have to adjust my thinking with you, because I know you'll understand. Your mind is just as wonderfully strange. I know no one else who creates hand snails and runaway totebags and the most perfect crest imaginable. Making art for you is so fun, because I feel like whatever I choose to depict, you'll get it.

What I want most in life is to be a good person. To bring people joy. Knowing I succeeded is more than I could ever hope for. Am I making sense? Why are you so easy to let into my heart? Why does letting you influence my creations, my way of thinking, my way of loving the world feel so right?

You bring out the best in me.

And that you think sharing what I do takes bravery- well I suppose you're right. I never thought anyone would realise. Would understand. But that it takes kindness? I never thought of it that way. I didn't think anyone would look at what I say and think, "how kind of you, that you chose to share this". I never thought that would be possible. I've had people tell me how happy my tags made them, a few times. That's what fueled me. I thought, if some have said it, then more must have thought it. And I want to keep spreading that joy. What I'm trying to say is you've reassured me in things I didn't dare hope for.

And that even my occasional admission of pain could be seen as good. That you would see me as good.

You're the reason you know. The reason I talk so much on here. I didn't use to do that. I think about the moment that made me follow you, I remember it clearly. I think about all that led to knowing you at all.

Thank you for sharing. I will come back to this, whenever I need a reminder that, well. That I did something right.

I'm glad you won't argue what I said. You couldn't change my mind anyways, on you being a good person. I am so very grateful to have you in my life. I find it hard to tell what people think of me. Thank you for the reassurance, your own bravery, and your beautiful words. They're like poetry.

If Tumblr crashed tomorrow, and I never heard of you again, I would be heartbroken. Truly and fully. But I would be grateful, as I already am. For the time you were a part of my life.

But this shall not happen. We haven't reblogged those snails yet, as we promised, and even after that. I don't want to imagine.

I'll do pottery some day. I'm snuggling my cat as I type, and I'll make myself a hot chocolate, in my dancing skeleton mug. And every day, I'll keep being reminded of you, and how you're everywhere now. In every little thing I've shared, that you got excited about. You're a part of that clay hand now, my spooky dishware, my lego frog, my tote bags, my rocks, my memories. I take a moment to take in nature and I'm reminded of your description of the light falling through your window, the spot you left just to appreciate it. I see a sword, a snail, a drawing of a werewolf, and you're always there.

When you let people take up your time, you let them take permanent residence in your heart. And with you, I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you for being here, for being you, and for bringing a peace to my soul I didn't know it needed.

Thank you.

[fortpeat]

hello hello hello. i absolutely love your hot takes on prapaisky so today im here to drop one of mine and ask your opinion on the same. as much as i want sky to seek help from the right person, go to therapy and start his healing journey (of course prapai has already helped in that quarter but i see most people want to SEE sky go to therapy), i personally think he's too stubborn to do just that and i don't mean this in a bad way. everyone has their coping mechanism and we know sky doesn't have the healthiest one but something about sky seeking professional help just doesn't sit right with me. i feel that apart from being extremely stubborn, he's also incredibly smart and terribly shy. stubborn because he will refuse therapy, smart because he knows how to deal with his trauma and exactly what needs to be done to heal (part of it includes climbing into prapai every chance he gets and clinging to prapai for the rest of their lives, among other things- and we know both of them absolutely love it), and shy because well that's pretty self explanatory. he has been dealing with it on his own all this time and he may have developed a few too many unhealthy habits but that's beside the point. now, considering how difficult it was for sky to open up to prapai in the first place (and for good reason), and just how much time it took for him to trust prapai, i don't think sky is the kind person who would want to discuss his trauma with just about anyone, it doesn't matter if the other person is a professional psychiatrist/psychologist with fifty degrees and what not. he did it with prapai because prapai proved to him just how much he loves and accepts sky for who he is. prapai has EARNED that privilege (yes it IS a privilege). it's PRAPAI!!!!! so i don't think sky will ever be enthusiastic about going to therapy. yes maybe it's not fair to prapai if sky decides to only rely on prapai. yes it's not fair to sky himself, it's not fair to their relationship but again that's beside the point. that's just the kind of person sky is. of course i could be wrong with my character analysis and i would really really want sky to go to therapy if it helps but idk this is my two cents or whatever ahhhhh im so sorry for the dump i just have too many ~thoughts~

Hey Nonnie ❤️☺️

So first things first sorry for the late reply. It was pretty late when I received this and I was so sleepy and I knew I wouldn't be able to answer it properly and you my dear who wrote this beautiful analysis deserves my full attention. So it's morning here btw I had to sleep on it coz the answer is pretty serious.

Ok do I want Sky to get therapy. Yes I absolutely do because I believe it would do him really good. But do I think he will go. Not really. But if we had a Lita S2 and they showed Sky in therapy I would be a very happy soul.

Now why I don't think Sky would go to therapy. I am Asian and in our culture Therapy and anything mental health related is considered a taboo. We are seen as weak for choosing to go to a professional to seek help. (Bunch of BS). And this is one factor. Another is just like you said Sky can be pretty stubborn and I believe by now he has developed some habits/techniques to help him with his trauma and sometimes for some people that's more than enough and it's what they choose to be comfortable with. Sky is someone who has major trust issues and like you said Sky won't trust a random person out of the blue to open up about his past. It took so much time and effort for Prapai to have Sky trust him and that is okay coz Sky can take as much time as he wants coz this is his story and he gets to decide when and where to tell Prapai. Rain whom he knew longer didn't even know about Sky's past until that awful night. And that's okay as well. Sky don't owe anyone anything. It's upto Sky to choose how he handles his trauma coz only he knows what he has been through and how much pain he has suffered. So if he believes that being with Prapai and being loved and cared for by him is enough to heal then we should respect that. And forcing him to go to therapy will only backfire and make him close himself off and we know Prapai would never force Sky to do anything that he doesn't want to. And if Sky decides that yes all he needs to move on and heal is time and his Prapai then Prapai will gladly be there for him no matter what. In fact Prapai would consider it as a privilege that Sky trusts him enough to accept Prapai's unwavering support.

Why I want Sky to be shown in therapy. Like I said mental health related issues are still considered a taboo in many places. So this could be a very good representation to show that going to therapy and seeking help is never a sign of weakness and that if you think you need help to be better then you should do so without the fear of being judged or alienated.

[actual-changeling]

hi, please feel free to ignore this, i would understand if you were tired of the whole pen thing, but i have a question about her suicide fic. i read it and it was ok, nothing special, but i also see nothing wrong with it? i'm aware i might just be ignorant on the subject (i never had that problem), but i would like to understand why it is offensive and bad representation?

Hi anon! I feel like you're genuinely asking so I will answer your question, though probably not in the way you expected. Once again, discourse is tagged, everyone feel free to block it. This response might get a bit personal so keep that in mind.

I'm as tired of this topic as everyone else, but I also do not want anyone to feel left behind if that makes sense. If there is something I can help with, I want to do so (as long as I feel like the question is coming from a genuine place, if not it will be deleted without comment).

CW for discussions of triggers and mentions of suicidality.

I wish I could tell you exactly which aspects of it are the problem and why, but I have not read it and I cannot read it.

I came across one of her posts and excerpts from it completely by accident, there was no warning in front of it, no read more, nothing. My brain reads very quickly and was half-way through the post before I realized what exactly I was reading, and unfortunately that was already enough to trigger me.

I wanna reiterate for people that aren't too knowledgeable on the subject or have gotten a lot of wrong information from social media that a trigger does not just mean "it makes me uncomfortable". The reaction is connected to my trauma and experiences with the topic at hand, I was going through emotional flashbacks that left me almost hyperventilating, shaking, and unable to calm down for several hours. All because of the way she wrote about suicidality. I am not easily triggered like this, I am in therapy, I have meds, I have unhealthy self-control. The fact that it affected me the way it did speaks volumes.

So no, I cannot read her fic and I won't read it, but I do not have to. I have seen more than enough to confidently say that the way she handled this is not okay, it is not safe for people to read, she is being incredibly irresponsible in how she talks about it on her blog, and I really hope that no one who is in a tough spot comes across it and gets triggered the way I did.

If someone reads it and sees no problem with it - good for you, and I don't mean that sarcastically. But I know that there are people that will read it and get, for a lack of better words, fucked up. I asked several of my friends about it and just giving vague descriptions of what I had read was enough to make them agree that, yes, this is not how you handle this topic.

The LEAST you can do is tag it properly and with as many different warnings that apply as possible. The LEAST you can do is leave a note saying "this is in part inaccurate and triggering in x way".

But then again, the absolute bare minimum would be to listen to people when they tell you when something you write is unsafe and offensive and then not write it that way. I think we all know at this point that no matter how many different fics and people go through this exact same experiences over and over again, she does not care about her readers and she won't listen. It's sad and it's embarrassing, and once again, I really really hope no one gets seriously hurt by this.

I will add the same disclaimer I added on my other post: If you quote me just to twist my words and misinterpret what I said, I hope you are ashamed of yourself. If you need clarification just ask me, it's that simple.

[vizthedatum]

I am actually fine - and I am not lying to you. I am unmasked, and I have always been an emotional person.

CW: all and disorganized emotional processing that makes cohesive sense in my mind (inner monologuing remark: since people freaked out when I was a kid and just wanted to institutionalize me or tell on me or not believe me, I am not going to hide the reality of my human experience any longer. What are you going to do now? Which authority are you going to tattle me to? Some deity? Are you going to silence me when I say something that makes you uncomfortable? Give me some advice that I'm not asking for? Gossip about me instead of confronting the epidemic of domestic violence... and the violence of this existence? Discriminate me from employment (joke's on you - I have so many skillsets that I do not actually need to use my PhD to survive - I am fucking untouchable and all of you know it)? (To be clear - I want actual support in the form of holding what I have to say or for you to walk away acknowledging that you're too fucking weak to handle what I have to say (which is valid btw lol). I am very majorly in treatment for a million things - and I'm not going to magically be 100% better just like that. I will never be but no matter what happens, the best thing you can do is to *trust me*) I dare you to try to tear me down when I'm like this - because I'm the most powerful I have ever been. Help yourself instead. All of you are adults, if you don't want to read what I have to say, then get off the fucking internet or simply ignore it like you ignore all the fucking atrocities of this world. I'm angry, and I don't care if I'm being reasonable anymore. I don't care. I've been discarded so much, that I do not care who leaves me anymore. I played nice. I've been understanding. I've educated people on things they could easily look up. I justified myself when I didn't have to. I have entertained notions of racism, discrimination, bigotry, transphobia, homophobia, etc., etc. I have hidden my emotional responses because people thought I was too much.)

--

Healing isn't linear (and you have no idea how much I just want to not do it - I just want to dissociate and seem "ok"), and I've cried on and off all morning. I got a lot of closure visiting my family. I miss the love that I thought was love but didn't really fill me anyway.

I wrote a kind of poem that this morning: https://at.tumblr.com/vizth.../i-am-susceptible/xu7bu50ijxxn

River just sent me this song, and now I am also playing it on the repeat (thanks babe):

Has a dread I could've never dreamed of

And it haunts me just to think of what I've done

In the light of everything we've become

I'm finally learning to love myself better than I have before

And I know that means I'm breaking your heart

Insecure and unnecessary disclaimer that doesn't need to be said and will likely not change anyone's mind but I'm going to say it anymore because I DO NOT CARE ANYMORE - I get to be as insecure as I want and I get to be as confident as I want: I don't need you to tell me you understand because I'm going through a hard time or whatever - I know all that already. Don't "aww yeah you're going through it, of course, you're feeling this way" or avoid doing/saying things with/to me or "therapy!" or whatever - it makes me feel even more awful. It's not validation for me to regurgitate what you think you see - because it makes me feel fucking broken in a judgmental way, and it makes me think you're a hypocrite (because you're broken too - this life breaks all of us, just some more than others). I know I'm broken - I have been broken since I was a toddler... and I made it this far. Through rampant abuse, constant SI, several chronic health conditions, more abuse, severe imposter syndrome or something to the point where I really think I don't know what I'm doing and then I forget how to do linear regression wtf.

Do you know what that took to get out (even though I had massive help?)?

Let me tell you what happened - I had several sets of concurrent memories through the timeline of my relationship, and while I knew which one was real... I had to gaslight myself to protect myself in addition to the gaslighting that was already happening to me. Then there was all the external gaslighting because people didn't know and I wasn't ready to really tell them. I fought so hard to maintain some facade of contentment in my relationship, because if I actually verbalized it... I would literally lose my mind and would not be able to do anything. You cannot just leave domestic violence. You have to be ready and many of us are not. And if we leave when we're not ready, it can be SO EASY to go back or get yourself into another situation... especially if you don't have any support. There are very poor infrastructures in place for "survivors" all over the world. What does it even mean to survive anyway...

I was incredibly lucky that I got out when I did. I was so lucky to have some money and a high credit score. I was lucky to have my health. I was lucky to have somehow completed my education. I was lucky to have been on the meds I was on. I was lucky that I had friends who didn't abandon me and basically carried me (and continue carrying me).

Because they would have taken all of it if they could. They ramped up the psychological torture when I came back from MN last November. They were going to take my medication. They were going to have me isolated indefinitely. They were screaming at me for one hour and the next hour, they were sweet. Over and over again. The psychosexual torture fucked me up. They made me question my reality constantly. They complimented me while putting me down - so fucking masterful. They made my living environment nearly inhabitable. It still wasn't as bad as what my mom did or even the overt rape/assault that my previous partners did. It's hard to compare all of it. I was scared out of my mind. I was taking as much weed and klonopin or anything else as I could so I couldn't feel anything... while plotting my escape.

If I didn't cut off my relationship with my parents last April and accepted that their form of "love" wasn't love - then I wouldn't have been able to:

- lower my blood pressure

- lose all my stress weight

- reduce my flares and chronic inflammation of my bladder (I mean I still have all those but it's less)

- finally come out as poly and breathe again

- really start embracing my gender nonconformity and transness

- really get excited about having a baby

- and start getting ready to fucking leave Jon

Only those who have gone through it (or are going through it or have gone through it for years) know exactly how much strength it took (and is taking) to break this fucking cycle, knowing full well that you can fall right back into it if you're not careful.

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

A trigger warning, I guess, because this post is all about what happened when Mom died. I'm recounting the whole thing in hopes that it'll finally stop fucking torturing me.

The night Mom died, Melissa was with us as she was going to spend the night. Well, all laid down to nap because we all had chronic pain shit. Melissa, Dad, and I were all back up no problem by 8:00 PM. Mom was not. And Melissa alerted us that, wait, doesn't she usually take her meds about that time? So Dad tried to wake her up to no avail. We called the ambulance. I called Charles and he sped into town, and got to us before the paramedics.

I put Sammy in his carrier with his litter box, water, and food bowls. I was scared and crying, trying to reassure myself by telling my boy that everything would be ok, and so would his "Grammy". I think I knew I was lying to keep myself from breaking any more than I already had.

Charles took us to the hospital right behind the ambulance. We ended up in a private room in the ER, and waited while they did whatever it was in the back. And when the doctor or whoever came in to talk with me, as the legal next of kin present, Dad, Charles, and Melissa suddenly gathered around me for support. Even I knew what was coming at that point.

At some point after taking the news and sitting back down, broken, I called up @themerrymutants because I needed to hear the voice of my other best friend at the time very, very badly.

We had the hospital call our Pastor from the Methodist church. And the second I saw him in the waiting room, I just wordlessly hurried over and gave him a big hug. He helped us the next day work things out with the one funeral home he worked with a lot. With his help, we got a simple cremation in which the funeral home took what Social Services would give them and then just let the rest go. Some time later, our Pastor held a memorial service at the church.

After we all got home, I don't think I even bothered to try to sleep. Somewhere after midnight, Charles and I ended up on the steps outside of the apartment building, just talking things over. Shit felt so unreal for us all. Melissa had attached very strongly to Mom, and I'm pretty sure Charles would have traded his biological parents for mine if given the chance. Dad is monogamous, so when he settled down with Mom, that was all she wrote. Mated for life, rather like a swan.

Sammy, my sweet little boy, remained alive with us until the next year, around Thanksgiving. I can't be totally sure of the extent, but he also broke inside when Mom died. I think he may have stayed with me and Dad long enough to know that I found a reason to struggle on. I had just started college that semester, and that breathed something into me.

That said, I very clearly stuffed as much of the pain down as I could. I tried to move on and not get stuck on the loss. I mean, obviously that didn't work. But I was also far more concerned about Dad by that point, and it did get him into therapy come the new year.

“Is Dad off his game?” he asked me. I responded “yes”, in the most blunt way I could muster up.

I was terrified to leave him alone all that December, and had to leave Charles with him on Christmas Eve so I could get out of the apartment alone for a while. It was always a hard enough month for him to begin with. And that first year without Mom was the hardest for us both.

It's not that the pain has diminished any. It's just gotten easier to handle as I've grown stronger. It still feels like being stabbed in the heart and then the gut just to be sure. But at least now, I actually know how to tend to those wounds and keep them clean.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

digging up bones

I guess if I'm up and already in a bad mood about it

might as well go through some of the thoughts

I was thinking about unearthing later on today

maybe it'll exhaust me and I can go back to sleep

my mood can't get worse and there is no dopamine

anywhere to be found because I've exhausted all sources

let's talk about why I don't want to get a therapist

by collecting quotes from experiences from the past

I had one who decided to laugh in my face about

my love for Jung and my thinking I was autistic

his ego couldn't handle my knowing shit about myself

and other things he couldn't quite grasp

once during a conversation about my childhood sexual abuse

he actually said to me with no sense of his depravity

"no wonder they couldn't resist you"

what the actual fuck my dude I was a child

he stopped seeing me when I turned the tables on him

and got him to confess all the things he used to do

when he was a dangerous guy just like his father

by mimicking his behavior and following his patterns

kind of seems like that pattern recognition and masking

should have rang a few bells but he didn't want to believe it

he told me my feminine energy was weaker than his male energy

but he sterilized himself like a gelding because he feared

bringing another kid into the world that felt

as fucked up as he did every day

I guess I'm still kind of mad at him

I think he might have been one of the first people I trusted

with all those dirty little secrets I was forced to hold since I was born

I didn't plan to become the therapist and hear his story

I was just following the rhythm of the conversation

but once he lost the power he felt he didn't want to look me

again in the eyes and it was confusing

because nothing he said was even that bad

my most recent therapy experience was marriage counseling

I knew that was going to be a fucking joke

and I was so used to being silenced by the man in the room

that I exploded out in a monologue of trauma dumping

desperate to be seen as someone who was tough and dealt with shit

far worse than the lanky bastard sitting next to me

who wouldn't let me have emotions without trying

to smother me under every avoidant wall of stone

ugh, I do not want to be awake and I'm so angry

and not even fun arson angry just petulant and mean

I did end that therapy experience with a three page letter

I wrote about all the reasons I was completely

over my doomed marriage and the man involved in it

and all the reasons he wasn't shit

but written eloquently and logically

because I'd had plenty of time to prepare

It was fun having an audience and his surprised pikachu face

will always be one that I remember fondly

fuck you asshole you know what you've been doing

the female therapist I went to the year before

to tell about the patterns of abusive behavior I'd documented

and the reasons I had for needing to leave the dysfunction

was met by a woman the age of my mother

who must have saw a silly daughter making a mistake

because she asked if psychological abuse was his only sin

and told me successful men were hard to find

I had fun the rest of the sessions talking about how

out of all the religious texts I read the bible was the most dry

and boring and I just wish I could get into it

and all the crosses and scriptures she had around her office

and the way her face pinched when I said those things

really made it difficult for us to synch up after that

to be fair I was always willing to make it work

I did have one therapist that was the best

her name was Elise and it scares me to think of calling her

I wonder if it's because of the unpaid account

or the fear of rejection or knowing I get to tell her

how everything went to shit after I came into her office

with my youngest as a baby and a glowing happiness

to my presence because I thought I finally

found something that I ended up losing as time went on

well, saying that I lost it is not very accurate

you don't lose someone's respect

they decide to stop giving it to you

and I have a difficult time tolerating that in relationships

I will blind myself for awhile but there does come a point

where something clicks and suddenly I'm on fire

because I'll be damned and choose damnation

before I let a little bitch boy like that make me die

it would be so fucking easy to make him cry

well, this little think piece shows I definitely need a therapist

and I guess getting those shitty thoughts out is one less thing

I have to muddle through tomorrow to find motivation

I'll call Elise and see if I have problems to solve

to get to go back and see her

she saw me and knew me right away

and she helped me get through a situation

that I'm going to have to walk through again

and she was great at it last time

fuuuuuuck this all sucks and I hate it

custody battles and shitty apartments and lawyers

building another new life and climbing out of another grave

it could be worse

I could be as scared as I was last time when I did it

I'm not scared I just know it's going to suck

Elise was the first one to coin the term "the Dani filter"

to describe the way I mask in my bubbly upbeat way

I wonder what she'll think of me now if we get to meet again

I think she'll appreciate my darker wit and my cynical smile

she knew how my mind worked right away

and said that I changed her mind completely

about behavior theory because I guess

when I decide to do or become something

and actually commit to it I surprised her with how

I can change my behavior and patterns on a dime

and never go back to them

you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?

alright now I feel like I did something

so my mood is less angsty and I have a move to make

still not tired but maybe that'll come soon

call Elise tomorrow and if that doesn't pan out

it's back to the drawing board

but I'll find someone and it'll be fine

and if it's not I'll find someone else

I am getting the fuck out of this stagnant energy

otherwise I'm going to start getting destructive

and that helps nobody

especially not me

[anaalnathrakhs]

i dont understand what i'm doing wrong holy fuck it KEEPS happening psychiatrist appointments are starting to go weirdly again.

i've had three so far and we've spent a LOT of time going over menial shit, like, symptomatology i understand why you'd need to do that face to face, but name age address occupation, like, was it necessary to use up a whole session for that. was it necessary to start THIS session by slooooooowly recapping the whole thing to the therapist in training sitting in the session?

i'm always amazed by what she takes away from what i've said. i had said i was sent to a psychologist as a child because i was bullied at school, it caused me to have behavioral problems and sometimes turn violent towards other kids, SHE asked more about the violence thing, and then apparently what she wrote down is "went to therapy because it was violent towards other kids"??????? like i understand that a different point of view on the events of your life can be a very useful and constructive to know what you might be attaching too much or too little importance to, to know when you were in the wrong, when you did the wrong thing. but there's a bunch of little details like that that end up being the only topic of the sentence and ????? why do you fixate on THAT ????? not even a MENTION of the other things????

holy shit she just started asking about the topic of next year when we updated the info on my file, and it literally felt like i was arguing with my parents like when it was really bad around 13 or 14yo. it's not doing anything productive it's just. i don't fucking know it's just arguing. she kept making assumptions and when i'd say i didn't see it like that, didn't feel it like that, that i felt it was inaccurate, that there was something else that she didn't think about that contradicted the assumption, and it was like even more questions all based on "but did u think u might be too pessimistic tho" like. no i think it's a reasonable thing to worry about actually? i think it's a legitimate concern to have? your job is to help me learn to handle difficult situations and the way i react to them in an healthy way, not to tell me i'm literally inventing problems. once fucking again nobody believes that i have problems with school. once again it's treated like a self-esteem problem when i try to say i may be having good grades but it's a DIFFICULT THING TO DO FOR ME. that it's not the product of a good or sustainable work technique or ethic and that it's actually fairly reasonable to think it might not follow when i encounter more difficult academic challenges.

and fuck, that was supposed to be what "working on my problems" is? cuz she didn't fucking warn me. she didn't explain shit to me. she just started asking a question and then it took twenty minutes. when literally i showed up first session saying i stopped seeing my previous psychiatrist because she would just segway into a different part of the session without even notifying me that she'd stopped typing the administrative info and we could start, she was just waiting for me to talk, and didn't explain anything about what work she did with patients, what it looked like, etc. it is KNOWN TO BE A PROBLEM WHEN PEOPLE DONT EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT'S GOING ON. why would she do that again, if that was supposed to be actual work on the situation?

it feels like nobody fucking listens to what i'm actually saying. and i don't know, i guess that's where the problem is, if i keep having trouble to communicate with different people, then the problem is obviously me, but what the fuck am i doing wrong? how do i fix it? i feel like i ask one question, and i get back a pre-canned answer on the general topic, that doesn't take into account what i said my feelings were on the matter. i feel like i'm always pushed to give more nuance, more details, and when (by myself or when prompted, when she asks leading questions to know more about a specific element) i go into more depth, the thing that ends up being marked down in the summary, being focused on, is just the completely wrong thing. and it's not my JOB to say it's the wrong thing, the point of it is to pick up what i'm not rational about, but it's the ONLY thing on the topic. i said a bunch of other stuff and i put my own order of importance to it, don't you think you should at least also MENTION i said that even if you don't agree with it???? especially if it's going to be passed down to other people as your official record of my case????

fucking. just tell me what kind of info is relevant to the work we're doing right now. tell me WHAT work we're doing right now actually.