#Who Wants To Pay For My Therapist For That Or Am I Just Fucked Forever Basically

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

2024 results warning rant: protect your peace before reading

Hello my mutuals. I just wanted to give a post election update and confirm stuff. I apologize for my absence, but I need to scream somewhere.

My state fully slipped red this election season.

My state was once seen as a state where you voted based on values and not sides. We were red, but had blue leaning federal representstives. Our rep in the senate went from blue to red. The new dickhead is pro a national abortion ban. Selling off our national land to rich out of staters. Further deepening the wealth gap in my state.

The only good news is that my state is still temporarily a safe haven state for abortion care. As all states surrounding us have harsh laws surrounding abortion.

I am safe as I can be for now. I have a home.

But I know that my state has homosexual marriage as being illegal on a state by state level. We still have Sodom laws that are canceled out by the federal right to marriage. If that right to marriage was stripped at the federal level, we would lose it here.

As someone who is studying to go into social work i am looking at the reality that every field i want to enter is going to get cut or reatricted into obsolescence. I was going to specialize in community aid. Getting my masters to work as a therapist for rural communities.

I understand the want to punish those is red states. I really do. But we did what we could. In the next few weeks you will blame the 3rd party voters, and electoral college. But this doesn't change the fact that our government will have 3 republican branches in government. Even ignoring the Supreme Court, this is bad.

I am scared.

The thing about rural red states is, there is no where else to go. Whenever people panic about the prices of blue states. There is somewhere for them to go. Out of their city or move to a big safe city somewhere red. Rural but safe. Where do I go? Living in one of the cheapest areas in my shitty state. I worry that i wont be able to stay safe forever. Most men I work with comment about how thin. Or frail. Or weak I am. Its a joke that i would lose any fight. That I easily get tired when doing anything that requires manual labor. Thst I have a good body and not much else. Women here get married at 20. Maybe go into nursing if they dont marry blue collar. All the jobs that pay well employ the men I fear. Where can I go? I don't love men, and the men here are those who put us into this mess.

I am scared. Scared that the one field i was passionate about was about to be stripped away from my hands. That I am going to watch my town of retirees realized how fucked they are without their Medicaid and Medicare. The fact that I still need to cut off half of my family for my own sanity. The fact my family has been outing me to anyone they know, because they are accepting enough to have a gay child. That I can't feel safe anymore. That the jobs that keep me alive won't keep me safe.

Soon, the family i live with will want me out. Throw the bird out of the nest, as clearly i am just a leach.

Living on my own in a cost of living crisis. In a few years. One or two. There will be no safety net. That's my reality.

What if he cuts FAFSA scholarships? What if I can't even get my degree?

That's in the future.

We had our first snow last night. And I am tired. So I'm playing dragon age. And eating good food.

I will post something helpful later. But for now. If you need something to do, go download fics you love. I suggest calibre to keep them sorted.

I know I will survive this.

But what does survival look like? Going to work, living paycheck to paycheck. Not saying the wrong things. Then going home and hoping to find the queer community i crave online. Watching people lucky enough to not be born here live the lives i want. Living life vicariously through my phone at my grown ass age. An age i fully expect myself to be happy and out.

I'm tired. So for now. I will let myself be scared. This will pass.

[bunnymcfoo]

I'm just working some shit out in my head right now and this feels like the only place I have to put it. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation.

I am really really really really really not okay right now. We've spent close to $3k on vet bills since last Thursday and while we certainly do have time to pay it off (thanks care credit!) it's still a hell of a lot of money, especially for our poor asses. It's legit an entire month's worth of income.

My best beloved elder cat Cassandra is still dying of kidney disease and there's literally nothing I can do about it and we're getting closer and closer to the end and I just can't. I can't. I love her so much and I'm gonna miss her with every atom of my being.

I've gotta call my agency and tell them that I need a new client, because the lady that mom and I both take care of is going into a care facility as soon as the end of this month and that's when two thirds of our income will just, like, go up in smoke. I cannot express strongly enough how much I do not want to do this. I'm so burnt out on caregiving that just the idea of taking on a new client makes me want to crawl under the covers and never come back out. The doctor called today to tell me that I'm too fucking fat to have breast reduction surgery. Like, not just a little bit too fat, no, like, I'd have to lose over a hundred pounds before they'd consider it levels of fat. I'm pretty sure that the only way my eating disordered ass can do that is via weight loss surgery (which, ironically, they'd be happy to do for me) so that's not gonna happen and I just get to be in pain forever.

And then there's just, like, That. Trump. The senate. Probably the house. Every hour something new hits me, like, they're 100% gonna get rid of the Endangered Species Act and we're gonna lose so -- god. We're gonna lose so much. I was already struggling hard before this week - winter is always harder. Always. and I've been fighting and clawing and holding it back, but my god, I wanna die so badly right now. I just want to hold my cat and go to sleep and never ever ever wake up, because I'm so scared and feel so helpless and like nothing will ever be good or worthwhile again. It's been a long time since I felt this way, like, just this deep and terrified exhaustion, and I didn't miss it. But here I am, hip deep in mud and I'm so tired of struggling and it's just getting deeper and deeper. I'm not gonna do anything. I wanna be dead, but I don't wanna kill myself, and even if I did, I wouldn't, because I couldn't do that to my mom. She's lost both her parents and I cannot take her child away. Plus, leaving her with four cats - well, soon to be three, but whatever - would be incredibly shitty. But this is the first time I've felt like this since I got medicated and I just don't know what to do about it - I'm maxed out on my lamotrigine and most of the other meds we've tried have had really bad side effects for me. I'd say I hate this so much, but honestly, I'm too empty to feel hate right now. But instead of dying, I'm gonna go eat something. I'm gonna hug my mom when she gets home. Tomorrow, I'm gonna call my psych's office so we can talk about possible courses of action. I'm gonna cuddle my cats. I'm gonna email the therapists I have pulled up to email. I don't get to die, I have plane tickets to Seattle and Columbus and friends to hug, and to get there I just have to keep going. So I'm gonna put one foot in front of another because there's really no other option. And yeah, I'm maybe gonna be crying the whole time, but that's sometimes the way it goes. Anyway. Sorry to anyone who read this, but also, thanks for listening I guess?

[stellacadente]

so like having memory issues sucks sooo bad

i lost 2 umbrellas in like. 2 or 3 weeks maybe a month (you guessed it i can't really remember. passage of time is so hard) bc it rains, i use this neat little umbrella.... put it down at the bus stop just for a second so i can get something from my backpack and completely forget i ever had it and hop on the bus without my neat little umbrella! fuck! my mum bought me this one (i didn't lose the previous one tbf.. it broke)! so then a couple of weeks later, still without an umbrella bc yeah, i keep forgetting to buy a new one, i have to be out all day, and it's raining hard and will all day, so my mum offers to give me her umbrella. she doesn't really need to walk or anything today anyway. i'll give it back later. yeah right. except i enter the place where i have to take my driving license quiz, i put down my umbrella, right there at the entrance, and when i walk out later it's not raining and i have completely forgotten i ever had an umbrella with me. my mum's umbrella. which i leave there. bye bye to another umbrella. i tell my mum a few hours after i realize... i was scared she'd get mad. she gets mad. how can you forget this stuff all the time. just think about these things a little more. just pay more attention. ah. right. as if that's easy. i tell her! it's not easy! i feel awful about this, i feel awful every time! i'm frustrated. i want her to understand i don't do this bc i don't care about my or other people's things or don't pay attention to them. i tell her look, every time i get to work i go upstairs to refill my water bottle. then i get coffee and/or chat with coworkers. i put my water bottle down, i need my hands to get coffee. and every time. every. time. i go downstairs and realize i left my water upstairs. i curse myself, i groan, i tell myself come one nico, you must remember later/tomorrow. i almost never do. my mum sighs and laughs awkwardly. yeah, mum, i know, i'm not even 30 and my memory's already fucked. i must have some problem, i say. it's only half a joke. i know i do. she half-jokes too, oh that's for sure, haha. i just don't know which one the many problems i do in fact have are to blame for this. is it the abuse and trauma? the bpd that was the result of it? the many meds i've taken for the bpd and all the rest? the times i've abused those meds? all of those, something else? i don't know. i just know it's hard to feel like everything, from memories to objects to knowledge, is a second away from being lost to me. always. few things feel like they last. and as a person who's obsessed with forever, as a person who loves to learn and know and watch and read and listen, as a person who cares even too deeply sometimes... i feel like i lost myself every day. if myself even exists. what am i when i don't remember most of my life? when i've forgotten almost everything about people who mean the world to me, bc they've been gone for so long? i forget birthdays, i forget ages, i forget umbrellas, i forget unloading the washing machine, i forget i already told you this, i forget smiles, i forget movies, i forget things i studied, i forget i had to call, i forget i needed to add something to the guidebook, i forget if i already took my med or not, i forget my favorite concert, i forget my favorite book, i forget. i forget again.

yesterday i went on a rant on the discord server i'm in with my friends, even if i knew it wasn't likely anyone would see it, bc the server's not very active now and that channel especially, no one looks at it. but i was so so scared i'd forget what happened the other day and even worse would start doubting whether it all happened for real or i made up half of it to make up for voids in my memory. that happens often with stuff like that. the therapist i had my first appointment with was very weird about me being trans and i kept thinking about it and feeling bad and the more i think something over, something i'm upset about, the more i get scared that i'm not recalling things right. so i had to write it all down somewhere other people could, even just potentially, see, and i could look back on. i mean yeah, i also did need to talk about it, so it would've been nice if someone read and replied too, but it's okay, i just at least needed to put it down in words as soon as possible.

i guess i'm just scared it'll get worse and worse the more i age and it's already pretty bad now and yeah

[nullwort]

I feel like I’m burning out with anger and stress. I can’t eat, haven’t eaten more than one meal and a snack per day in a while. Scared of people always what’s new there? I feel deeply traumatized and full of grief that i can barely hold. Full of fatally unexpressed things nobody has ever wanted to hear from me, as I have been all my life. A banal injustice, a million little medium huge offences piled up like rags soaked in linseed oil. I think I’ve finally really lost it- finally gotten so bad I’m going to begin losing things. People-friends- places income jobs stability. They go quick when your grip becomes too weak to hold them.

I feel like a washed up burnt out crazy dork unfit for human connection, into the wrong hobbies and aesthetics, matching nobody, unable by virtue of being fucked in the head to squeeze even a single drop of love or pleasure out of the ceaselessly turning misery machine that is the world. I wonder what the hell im doing here, for why for what for who. Nothing I have ever done feels truly like it has been for myself, or else I’m a born ingrate and can’t recognize any of it, or else can’t feel good about recognizing it. Suicide, a nice country suicide in the woods or a classic barn hanging comes to mind often these days. I think about how the community might talk about it, how it’d be old news in five days maybe less. I think about how this is the best I’ve had it in many many years and I think about how my heart is too stony to allow me to enjoy it. I think about all the ‘work’ I’m doing to suss out the why I am the way I am and I wonder how much is just handing money to my therapist while I spiral and become more miserable. If I can stay out of the ward and the morgue maybe I will be fine. Maybe in a week this will seem paltry maybe in six months I will be rearranged more attractively. I have a deep rooted lust for nuclear war to wipe clean the slate and launch me forever out of this disgusting complex painful mess in my head. I was born with it and it snowballs down the stark lifeless mountainside of my shitty, insignificant, exploited little life. I am on this earth to pay my landlord rent and for my workplace to exploit my labor. I cannot find any other reason that feeds my soul, and I am putting myriad resources into the finding, and I am running dry and burning out. Things have not gotten better even a little and they are quite severe now.

I don’t know why the hell nyone speaks to me or what they get out of it. I don’t remember how to be a good or bad friend to someone. I don’t remember how to be a love- I don’t think I ever learned. All good exciting things in my life are ruined, or reveal themselves to be radioactive or necrotic. How could my feeling good portend anything but woe. How could anyone’s interest be anything more than the predator having sighted me beginning to salivate? Love is a wasting, rotting, consumptive disease and I desire it more than anything. And I hate myself for this simple child’s desire, want to crush the child dead for its desiring which brings me no relief no hope no benefit now but tortures me each and every day. I detest the pathetic, needy, loud child with the open mouth whose desire is never filled, who only receives blows and slurs for holding it so persistently, as if believing and expecting that it should arrive even after thirty years of nothing but rejection and pain. Let the bomb rain down we are worth nothing we are worth but a grain of dust apiece.

[tumbling-down-the-hall]

I can post here because nobody I know reads these

I feel behind. I feel like everybody else is living their life and I'm just trudging along.

I'm not married. I'm not going to be anytime soon. I don't think I want to marry the person I'm with for all sorts of reasons. (well actually one reason)

I'm definitely not going to have children. I know having a child is wonderful and yada yada yada. But also like in this economy. In this state of the world? Yeah no thank you. I do not want a child to deal with that. Fuck half the time I don't want to deal with that.

Friends are getting married, having children, settling down. And I'm over here like hahahah fuck no. Fuck that. I want to travel. I want to see the world. I want to have experiences. But that's not going to happen. Because I'm stuck in the same cycle. I'm stuck. Idk how to unstuck without leaving everybody forever.

I have a half day on Friday. I want to leave for a day and a half and turn off my phone and just experience. But where do I go? What do I do? I don't know.

My mom swears up and down I'm not autistic. I swear up and down I am. I'm special. And not in the good way. I notice patterns. I know what my partners order is at almost every restaurant we go to. I know what he would get. Does he know what I would? Probably not. Ever since my experience with pirate. I try new things. I don't want to be limited to the same things. I want to be open to trying new things. I had fish yesterday. And it was really good. I apparently eat slow though. Everybody else had finished their food by the time trivia started and I was sitting there still picking at mine ... Tbh that's probably a good thing.

I have a tendency to get overwhelmed by noises. If it's too noisy somewhere I instantly shut down. I think this started because of covid and not going out as much. I'm trying to reacclimate myself into those spaces. I want to be the person people go to. And while I am. I'm not their friend. I'm just there. I'm just somebody to vent to for like 30 seconds and then never talk to again. I'm not somebody people like to hang out with outside of work. Which frustrates the hell out of me. Because I like to think I'm a cool person. But I guess I'm not. I'm still just a nobody.

The only reason the people know me at the pizza place near me is because of my partner. He talks to everybody. I'm just there watching. I don't like interacting. But I love watching. I like putting in my two cents.

I don't know how to hold conversations. I don't know how to interject in conversation. When I have something to say I try to look for an opening, is there ever an opening? No. Not really. I don't know how conversations work. I don't know how anything works.

I'm all alone and nobody understands me. Not even my partner who says he does. He didn't understand why I got upset when we stopped on the way home last night. He doesn't understand why I'm upset when he drinks. He doesn't understand why I'm upset when he continues to get drinks and I'm the one paying the tab. I'm too aware of what other people are doing. If he is paying the tab I don't go for the most expensive thing. I don't do multiple drinks. Do I get this same consideration? Absolutely not.

I want to take my car and leave and see what happens. I'm not okay. But I mask so nobody can see that. I need a therapist. But I'm afraid of what they are going to tell me. But I also know what they are going to tell me.

[puppysweetheart]

i'm bored so i kind of want to write a non-fetish post elaborating on disability and my relationship with my beautiful dyke husband for my tiny audience

i do address them as "daddy," which is partially just a dom title but does in part refer to the fact that they take care of me. this caretaking happens largely because my specific combo of disabilities means i need more help and guidance to live than the average adult; husband and my therapist are my main supports for my continued survival. i really do need husband/daddy's help to get along, beyond any sort of kink, and i'm coming to terms with it.

gonna stick a read more here bc this is turning into an essay 😭 (warning for a brief mention of suicide/being suicidal)

after i emotionally/physically struggled my way through college, young adult life didn't prove any easier and hasn't yet let up! 😭 without the support of my parents at first and later husband, i wouldn't make it. i'd starve, or never pay my bills, or off myself, or end up hiding in my house forever. husband and me accepting that they do play a disability caregiver role has been good for me, if difficult for me to not be upset about (i deal with lots of feelings of being a burden). fitting it into our existing dom/sub dynamic and making daddy/puppy a more regular part of our life at home has actually really helped me pull myself out of the absolute desolation of it all! we both get to have fun with it and not always dwell on the serious parts of my situation.

husband is disabled too, so the helping is reciprocal, but in general they are the one who makes sure i'm meeting my daily needs and has fidget toys on hand for both of us and helps me figure out complicated government paperwork and stuff. they recognize when i'm starting to get stressed or upset or overwhelmed, sometimes before i even realize it myself, and they know what they can do to help (like take me out of a loud bright place or bring me a stuffie...or a dab pen :P). they are also currently our only source of income because i am the unemployed kind of disabled right now.

this whole thing makes our dynamic deep, complicated, sometimes very intimate and special and sometimes incredibly mundane, and just...uniquely ours. daddy helps me learn new life skills, cuddles me, buys me plushies, makes me dinner, fucks me silly at their own discretion, and makes sure i'm not allowing myself to decay due to The Brain Problems. in return, i cuddle them to death, sometimes top and dom ("pretending to be the daddy," as they have called it) bc they're a vers switch and so am i, and make them take breaks from work and remember their meds and enforce their boundaries at work (otherwise nonprofit work will wring you dry). i just love them so, so much, and daddy is the affectionate nickname i've given them out of that deep love. the name "daddy" also encapsulates the feelings of responsibility and affection they have for me as both a caretaker and a partner. i'm unfathomably grateful to have someone who guides me through life and cares about me so deeply. they're my daddy, y'know? :)

[stfuviolet1]

it's not that hard after all, aint it?

If there's one thing I learn for the past months it'd be;

self love > anything else

All this while I've always thought its impossible to love myself that I often seek other individual's validation on me. As a result? I was never really at peace with myself. I seek someone else's love to fill in the void in me, hoping they would love me for who I am just because I couldn't seem to do it for myself. The void that I myself created because of all the insecurities that has grown in me since forever has given me a hard time to look at myself in the mirror and love what I'm seeing. Until one day I realise, no one's gonna do it for me other than me, no one's gonna love me more than me, no one's gonna be there with me forever other than me. I am the person who I wake up with, go to sleep with, living live with for as long as I'm alive. like shit really slaps me hard realising that I am my own person, my own friend, my own lover how could I treat myself less than what I deserve I mean is it not bad enough I let other human beings destroy me from within and now I'm being a jerk to my own self? what a JERK. okay I take that back, I've made a vow to never ever speak ill towards myself again even if I'm about to make the biggest mistake in my life. yeah sure I'm gonna be devastated but hey, isn't mistake the best teacher?

Looking back, I'm glad where life has taken me to. Im not gonna lie 2023 is the most dull year I've ever lived in so far but I'm also not gonna lie its also the year where I learnt a lot about self love. the price I have to pay to get to where I am now? 5 months of depression, heartbreaks, lost of partner and friendships. But I guess I rather have 1 uncomfortable year than stuck in misery forever. I feel like a newborn, new person, like I'm slowly getting myself back, taking back what I've lost and most importantly I'm taking control of what used to control me. yes bitch I'm getting that boss behaviour back and no one and nothing can stop me from doing so. I am SO GONNA WIN. I don't give a flying fuck of what people think of me, whether or not they gonna love or accept me, I will still have my back. cause guess what? not a single soul understands me more than I do so why not just be my own muse, my own fighter my own therapist. I don't have anything to lose as I've made peace with the fact that its not that bad to live life alone. Sure I still want a partner to share life with but if I'm destined to be alone, its okay too. No matter how alone I am, I am not gonna let myself feeling lonely. There are always ways to cherish life and now I'm just gonna focus living life and enjoy the littlest thing.

[zreflections]

A black lump burrows from the inside, out in my chest. The CBT workbook told me to picture bad thoughts as objects. Make them "silly and ridiculous". Name them strange concepts.

No one bothers to explain being intelligent generally just makes you want to die all the time. That maybe life is the virus in the eco system.

My boyfriend never thinks about things. He is from one thing to the next, zinging around like tiktock filed redbull shots. He eats hot peppers on everything. I am one of roughly fourteen thousand people who are allergic to caspasien.

All day I made an effort to keep the voice quiet. The one that tells me, you suck. You. Are stupid. He hates you. He will get sick of you. Your ideas are stupid. Just die already.

A few days ago I almost walked in front of a car. My life is good right now. I never want to lose it. Everything is new.

If I could marry him I would.

If I could kill myself I would.

I remind myself the moral of the story is that life one any planet is a wonderful gift. That suffering is the status quo and the happiness is the in-between. A soilder said so in a support group.

My suicidal friends arm won't stop bleeding. Her house is full of mold. She doesn't sleep from the illness. No one is helping her and she is stuck in helplessness.

Everyone who makes me bite in humanity never learned to arm themselves with thier teeth like I have.

I use them without meaning to.

They often lately land into myself. While I try to jot hurt anyone. Nothing good can come from me. The voice says.

Therapists like to say thoughts are like a computer and you just need reprogramming.

Studies show affirmations tend to not be helpful woth ptsd or cpstd because it resembles gaslighting.

I want to burn out.

I want to stop feeling.

Friday, I swam at the pool and thought about drowning. It seemed too much effort. Might as well stay.

So I pack bags. Eat lunch. Hate myself. Argue.

I admit it someone had a handful of drugs I would take them no questions asked.

Run a block if your bored.

My writing sucks

My videos suck

I hate the way my chest is constantly caving in even when I'm fine.

Friends and books say-

Don't make the bad feelings worse by having yourself for having them. Sorry noone gave a shit about me before.

His face crushed when I said, it's because those scars are new.

People all like me. My hair. My clothes. I'm polite.

If you askeda I successful, well. Maybe. I have a steady job. It's relatively low stress. The pay isn't great but the benefits aren't bad.

But I jerk and every sound hyper aware. I flinch. I want to prove my boyfriend to abuse me so I don't keep waiting asking when will the show drop?

I am always compressing myself into those space-saving bags. Trying to. But then ripping them open. Again. Again again. At every notion. Sprining back after ripping the airmask like on a plane.

I have never don't a real or true thing.

She lies as she has self published five books with bad grammar and spelling. And a collection of photos. And a heart full of regretful ashes.

There are things I should write about but they are all sad. I am the first in my family to say, I've had enough of this abuse.

People say I'm strong but I'm just broken China.

Nothing was handed to me.

I.

I wish I could breath better.

I still have no solutions I'm years of research.

Projects. Deadlines. Stupid. God. I'm so. Stupid.

He played out a fantasy I hate admiting I have recently. A sexual one. I just want to chase down his chin and stroke him into thoughtlessness.

I'm a freak. My brain prompts.

Make your goal to be yourself. He told me. I'm trying but...

Why can't being myself feel like something good? And not just a curse I need unicorn tears and griffin blood.

My brother quit caring the moment I left.

I hope a stray bullet gets me.

Sometimes I want to live forever. But mostly? Mostly I want time to stop.

Stop moving and let me adjust.

Fuck.

It's always the same shit from my mouth.

Useless.

[raspberryspace]

It’s okay to write this, it’s okay to be in a moment of weakness, it’s okay to express yourself. I need to tell myself this.

I can not let you live with that pain.

I want to be more receptive to the emotions of the past and present. I want to take responsibility for them. It’s not for you to bear alone. I don’t ever want you to have to pay for my wrong decision. You are so much more than my mistake, it’s not what defines you at all. I don’t know how to release that from you. I want us to work on that. I hope we can. I am working on it with my therapist. I want to better reciprocate your emotions.

I was distracted by myself. Aloof to the idea that such a decision would hurt someone I care about deeply later on. Someone who I wanted to bring the entire world to. Not even later on, it was being built day on day. I had to come to terms with what I had done. What the past version of me had done. What I had done to devastate the one I cared about the most. I never saw that at the time. I knew it wasn’t easy but I didn’t understand the scope of the hurt.

I regret that immensely.

No amount of the word sorry will ever understand that. The me of today understands that. The me that wants to take on the burden. Take the responsibility away from you. It was never your fault. You had to make the hardest decision. I will never forget that. I could never let you get to that point again. I have changed, the current me will set it right. The current me has begun to understand, and through communication came that understanding. That change. I want to connect again to those emotions that brought along this pain, to find ways to heal from this all. I want to help so fucking badly, because. It isn’t your fault. It isn’t something you should go through alone. It’s not fair to you. I owe you everything. Let me be a part of that everything. I don’t want you to suffer. I never wanted that, I just don’t know what to do if my mere presence invokes such negative emotions. It makes me want to run away and be gone forever. I don’t want to just walk away from the problem, I do not want to make that mistake. How do I tell you that this isn’t for my benefit, I want this to be for your sake. How do I approach that. Everything I want to do is to help you. I am at my most selfless. I can’t tell you the sleepless nights and endless writing culminating in this. These pure moments of emotion come barreling to the surface. It’s 3am and I’m making a mistake. It’s no excuse but I don’t even know if you’ll end up reading this anyways, hell this is just me yelling at my dreams again. I can’t keep on overthinking every little thing, I’m going to change into something I don’t want to become. but I can’t stop worrying that you make it home okay every night. That you get that much needed TLC after a long Thursday. I can’t stop overthinking it all.

The amount of self sacrifice I want to devote simply cannot be. it will never be. And it festers. You���re right we are in this loop of painful topics but I am trying so hard to break through. And I cannot ever ask something of you. But if you were to open up again. I would hope you could see the help.

I hope you can feel better.

I just want you to feel better.

Posting this to the ether, probably isn’t going to help anything. It’s ok for me to write. It’s okay for me to feel the way I do.

[zukotheartist]

Hiii :) i need a bit of help

(Ik i said i wouldnt do rant posts here but this one is also advice seeking? So we'll let it slide this time)

It's about uni and mental health and jobs, etc and just overall oversharing lmao. Feel free to skip ofc lol but if anyone has some advice/opinions to share, im all ears.

Basically, i just really don't know what to do with my life💀. I even took a gap year in between hs and uni to decide and ig it still didnt work😭.

I'm in uni studying languages (mandarin, portuguese and japanese) and the language part is going well so far, I guess? (And I do like it!). I even like a few of the other subjects (some of them i only have them for 1 semester so theyre not major subjects) but i really just cant handle it???

I wasn't happy with my choice in the sense that I think my job prospects after uni won't be great but I knew I wouldn't be able to handle anything else (im terrible at stem and most high-paying jobs require it lol + i have depressive episodes 24/7💀 and im pretty sure i have adhd*). But even picking smth i like and am not terrible at (not great at either but at least it's not math lol) im not able to handle it???

I was trying really hard at first, i didn't want to fuck this up, but the rhythm needed is just... way too much for someone who stuggled all throughout hs and has shit mental health.

I managed to work hard for a bit (studying everyday after class, doing 8hr study sessions during the weekend, revising quickly while waiting in line, etc) but then i let loose (or even went full days/weeks with minimal amount of studying) bc it was so overwhelming and now im cramming like 2/3 months worth of 3 different subjects and my exams are in Jan/Feb (the first available dates on the 10th) and ill be lucky to pass a single one of them with the speed im going at.

Even on days i get up early to study and barely even look at my phone, it's just too much stuff and im not fast enough + i lack a lot of things bc of my slacking off in hs.

I go to uni in Italy and if you fall behind u have to pay more but ig it's better than putting all this effort and most of all money to then just drop out and be left degreeless?

But I feel so freaking terrible bc i literally dont even work part-time or anything and i still live with my parents and theyre the ones paying for all of my stuff basically? So to add a higher cost bc i couldnt keep up with uni🥲 but then, if i take a part-time job, ill be making some money but uni will be going even worst and itll still be a waste of money???

I've talked to multiple therapists/psychiatrists, asking them even for LIGHT anxiety meds and *all* of them have refused (I also made it clear that I would still go to therapy even if I got meds but nothing).

Studying calms me down a bit but even tho ive started doing it daily again and for hours on end, im still akskdkdkrkr

Ill talk to my family and my therapist but i honestly dont know wtf to do with my life. Ik the whole "dont cry over spilled milk" thing but i really wish i could re-do hs to not be in this fucking mess.

It doesn't really help that my only goal in life is to make a lot of money bc i think ill be alone (both romantically and platonically) forever but with the way it's going, ill be lucky to get a minimum wage one (im not saying it as a diss, those are respectable jobs too but like i said, my only goal is to make money so i can live comfortably and distract myself from my depression lmao).

This is all very specific and i doubt anyone responds (let alone reads) but if anyone does read, tysm for reading this sad long rant🫂🫂🫂. I pretty much wont be able to see my therapist until just a bit before my exams so this was also my way to let out some frustration.

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*Ive tried to get an official diagnosis, and it's fine if im wrong ofc, but i was immediately denied and told that couldnt be it... bc of my age lmao💀

[transhawks]

It's fine - I'm okay with well-reasoned additions on my post. I've said this a couple times over the years, this is my hero ACADEMIA so we're all peer reviewing each other's articles (in my head). I like people engaging with me. Also, just to make my inherent biases ahead of time, because I am biased, I'm anarchocommunist and I've also been through a lot of shit in my 29 years of life. Like my views on the League and BNHA in general are colored by my deeply held political views and also my experiences with addiction, mental illness, and losing friends to those (aka burying someone). When I argue my perspectives, it's from the view of someone who has been in very fucked up social circles and groups and done fucked up shit. I'm also very cynical. 1. The Crabs in Bucket Anyway, so, first off my intent with linking the crab metaphor tweet was less in about the society saving the crabs, but about friend groups. I should have been clearer in my intent, but it was really more about the idea that you can't like break out of the bucket. As a poster replied about the crabs pulling down the crab trying to climb out, this is an actual concept called crab mentality and it has a wikipedia page.

So, one aspect of the metaphor is simply this, and I think this puts what I'm trying to get at better: Everyone's burning around you, how do you know you're on fire?

That's my own quote on this idea that sometimes people in situations akin to a boiling pot can't realize they're being boiled because everyone around them is. You don't see out of the bucket. The lid is on. Everyone is boiling to death but that's everyone so why should you be alarmed? Or just more concerned than usual. What I'm trying to say is that friend groups or social circles like the League of Villains often have normalization of behaviors and views that are maladaptive or self-harming but no one sees this for what it is because the entire friend group's perspective on normalcy is so skewed that no one questions it. I've experienced this with my alcohol addiction which I didn't realize was one until many years later, and what delayed my realization was that most people around me were worse. I wasn't blacking out due to drinking, so how does that compare with friends who were, or those who are doing ket or tina? I had the "least" issues so my brain translated that to "I'm doing okay, comparatively". I didn't have people outside the bucket (except my parents, who threw me out) to tell me that it was all fucked up. I just had the other crabs, who were boiling faster. I think about this a lot with the League and expressions of suicidal thoughts, depersonalization for others, etc. The normal reaction to Tomura's story to Ujiko is to say, "Bitch, you're fucking depressed, get help." and help him find a therapist, or some college kid selling prozac on grindr. That didn't happen. Why?

Well, look around him. Spinner's essentially so empty inside he latches on to people and make them his whole personality and is willing to throw away ideals and beliefs. Twice feels like he needs to beg other people to care about him and that he has to pay people back for being decent humans towards him, exclaiming he doesn't give a damn what happens to himself. Toga's whole shtick is loving people who she sees capable of being loved because she isn't and thus wanting to be "them" as her love (and thus be capable of being loved herself). Dabi? Mentally, Dabi has been ready to die since...well, forever, but definitely upon returning home and seeing his dad beat the shit of his brother and the family just seeming to exist even after his "death". Physically, he's been planning a murder-suicide attempt for years. Like the only one who seems "okay" is Sako, and Atsuhiro has a whole fucking identity crisis he's busy ignoring. No one is going to tell Tomura, "Hey that's not good, that's not healthy, and all those feelings are signs of mental illness and probably come from trauma you need to work on." Because none of them are in the space to be able to do so. If anything, they're the crabs pulling each other down. I don't think it's a "malicious" pulling down either. Misery loves company, and I rather boil to death with my friends than alone, yanno? When we talk about someone outside the bucket reaching in, it means someone who can see what's happening in the bucket but also sees the world outside and correctly look at the crabs and say, "y'all bitches cooking to death". It's really hard to get out of the bucket by yourself - especially with friends who...sometimes aren't ready to get better. Or never will - they'll just boil to death. 2. Keeping My Expectations Low

So, undoubtedly, I am cynical. There's a reason I used to agree with a lot of your viewpoints before I got so tired of hoping for things and feeling frustration and disappointment. One of those frustrations was about the idea of the bucket tipping over and putting the fire out. Let's discuss my post about the realities of BNHA. BNHA is a manga published in a very conservative magazine that still defends not having women at Weekly Shounen Jump (Plus did have some) as late as 2019. It is aimed at twelve year-old Japanee boys, even if that's no longer the main readership, boys whose families can allow for a weekly magazine subscription. It is published in a overall very conservative industry, in a socially conservative country. Superhero stories, also, appeal to more conservative mindsets by their natures too. Horikoshi is an Alan Moore fanboy, and he's even made Tomura quote Rorschach, and Watchman, of course, is a long fuck you letter to the Superhero genre. 'Tis a pity that Moore would likely hate BNHA because some of his criticism still end up being followed through on.

But superheroes struggle to address the political ascendancy of reactionary authoritarianism. That’s in large part because superheroes are traditionally conservative and elitist. The superhero genre has always had a strong bias toward defending the status quo. It’s no coincidence that the genre reaches its peaks of popularity during times when the culture is focused on the spectre of rising threats from abroad. Superheroes are almost always dedicated to stopping someone bad from changing things, not changing things that are already bad. "In 2018, Superhero stories doubled down on maintaining the status quo"

One of my longest criticisms of this manga has been that Deku is a reactive not proactive character. He's had multiple times to at least reflect on things that have happened to him and connect the dots at least about the hegemony at play in his life, in the villains he interacts with, and all around him (hello OH arc!), but it doesn't happen, and that's by design. Because heroes defend, not change. Change, meaningful, consuming and liberating change is dangerous. To enact change is to enact instability, and that's exactly what people like heroes want to prevent. It's also just the nature of the genre (and people in general) to care about individualized violence over collective violence in general. Tomura at least gives us some discussion on what violence is deemed okay in the very beginning but it misses something else - we can see Tomura destroying the area around Jaku as violence, and catastrophe, but let's say the decades of government inaction about big heteromoprhs being unable to live in Tokyo, the capital, isn't violence? One is immediate, sensationalized, but the other persistent and perpetual and happens to a marginalized group, but also is enacted not by an individual or small group, but by the state. So that violence is okay. Or the violence inherent to the poor not getting second chances - Twice's story is about a poor man fighting the Japanese legal system and losing, and thus losing an ability to have a livelihood that's legal. He is thrown out and forced to live a life on the margins. To prevent more Twices is to upend a legal system that distributes blame on both parties in accidents in Japan, to prevent more Twices is to remove poverty so that there is never any desperation that leads to crime. Can Horikoshi show us a society where poverty is abolished? Truly? Now, I'll give Horikoshi some credit - I truly think he's at least setting up a critique of one the foundations of the Superhero story. I write about his critique of the Great Man Theory here. And here's the same article above talking about how the Great Man Theory is crucial to superhero stories.

The superhero genre’s super-skepticism about radical beneficial change is complemented by a super-skepticism about collective action. The whole point of the genre is that some people have great powers — and some people don’t. Those who do are the heroes. Those who don’t are romantic interests, bystanders, and potential victims. The story isn’t about them. Change comes about not through community action or political efforts, but through the outsize actions of special, strong saviors... A narrative about special powers can’t be a narrative about solidarity, and a narrative that isn’t about solidarity can’t really be a narrative about change, justice, or hope. "In 2018, Superhero stories doubled down on maintaining the status quo"

I think if Horikoshi is attempting any subversion or commentary on the superhero genre as a whole it is the Great Man of it all, and he did that by showing us Toshinori's ideology of being a Pillar failing. That it takes a truly One for All rather the individualized All For One for something to be achieved.

But otherwise?

This is just the wrong story for all that. At most we'll get lip service about the ranking system ending, some anti-discrimination laws for heteromorphs, and likely a reform of the HPSC (or dissolvement but I have little hope for that because Hori likes drawing Mera stressed out). The hegemonic structures that have created the League in general are not going to be fully removed because then that tells little Japanese boys reading Weekly Shounen Jump that perhaps the hold the LDP has on Japanese politics for a good few decades isn't inevitable and they don't have to sit down and swallow shoganai culture. And we (WSJ, the old boys club that run it) don't want that. Ultimate, the fire won't be put out - the crabs we care about will be pulled out, and maybe the pot will be put down to simmer, not boil, but the story isn't about the fire being put out as the crabs being taken out. And the thing is any continuation will have to come to face with the contradiction that the fire has to be put out. Which is why I hesitate to think there will be a sequel. For one, Horikoshi has lost a decade of his life to the overwork, insanely exploitative manga industry and suffers from nightmares and insomnia and clear health issues due to it. I'm fine if he retires and just learns to have actual conversations with women tbh. Like that dude needs to learn to a be person. He's been in the industry since 21 years of age, whether as an assistant (still fulltime, exploitative) or his failing series of manga until BNHA. We've all see that Oda WSJ schedule. None of that allows for the lengthy process of having a good friend group or finding a mate and starting a family that typically people want in their 20s and 30s. But the core of BNHA isn't in turning off that fire. It's people willing to reach out and save those crabs and those crabs not realizing they're boiling. It's not the right genre or writer for the story we want, and being okay with that is probably the key not being disapointed with the inevitable lack of resolution towards the issues the hero system has. When I make my posts, what I'm trying to do is seriously minimize how much people are going to be upset with what they see as a lackluster ending. Whether it's because they're missing the cultural context towards narratives like the Todoroki family, or just not realizing that the stories they want will not be published in WSJ, I just see people getting more and more disappointed and frustrated and never realizing the key is adjusting their own expectations. Cynical of me? Yes, but I swear it makes things enjoyable when you expect little and are grateful for the little crumbs you do get in media.

Honestly the best summation I think of an issue I've had with a lot of reactions is it's born out of people really invested in the LoV staying in the bucket. The boiling bucket of crabs. This tweet spells out clearly but for those of us twitter averse it's this:

It's nice to have other crabs in the same bucket, but they're still boiling to death. The League are the crabs. They can't tip over the bucket over the fire: they're dying. They also don't see a way out of the bucket. Someone has to turn off the fire or pull them out. Someone on the outside, who isn't boiling to death.

[big-boah]

Disability Pride month is almost over, and I wanted to share my story about my own experiences with disability.

I have autism, ADHD, TBI, PTSD, deafness, and a few others! 🤟

Under the cut:

Here's my story:

When I was born, the doctors gave my mom drugs to cause contractions because I was sleeby and very late, and it wasn't until my mom almost died that they found out I was in the wrong position and couldn't be born naturally, while also being choked by the cord. (I was covered in bruises until I was like, 2.) I sustained a mild TBI from that and I was lucky I guess, because it could've affected me differently. (My mom also didn't know she was pregnant for a while and both parents had/have substance abuse issues. I had a rough start lol)

As a kid, I started reading and speaking very early, but I would only talk about things that I cared about/infodump. I clearly had attention problems--I couldn't focus on something unless I was absorbed by it. I had meltdowns because of sensory issues regularly. I also had a speech impediment and a weird accent that I got speech therapy for for a year.

My parents were told I was likely autistic when I was about 5 or 6, as I would only show 2 emotions: unabashed joy, and meltdowns. Otherwise I just...look angry lmao. I went through a lot of bullying in school and ended up being diagnosed with depression with generalized anxiety disorder by the time I was 11.

I've always had horrible coordination issues/apraxia/dyspraxia and I still struggle with it daily. I've broken so many bones y'all 😅

I was diagnosed with autism and suspected ADHD when I was 13 and again my parents did nothing with that. The school offered services because I was struggling, even though we were a low-income family in a small low-income school with grades K-12 in one building they did what they could to help. I was in special education classes as well as advanced classes at the same time until high school when I switched to all advanced/college level classes. One therapist at school helped me learn ASL to deal with the speech generation issues and I am forever grateful for that.

I've been writing stories since I was 6-7ish and writing to communicate was my favorite. By the time I was in middle school I learned to mask, and I studied people and psychology obsessively so I could understand why people did things. I didn't have any friends until this time although I did try (but no one else wanted to pretend to be a dog or a mage or play DBZ with me, well fuck you too! 😜)

My parents tried to get me to be normal so they forced me to join a sport when I was 8. An dyspraxic 8 year old playing softball lmao. I hated it. My dad wound up coaching the team 2 years in, because I was getting bullied BY THE OTHER DAD COACHES hahaha. I was forced to do that for 7 years.

I joined the bowling team in middle school of my own accord, and ended up being like the "backup team" where it was literally 3 of us from the special ed class 😂but I loved it! I got to hang out and bowl and everyone was really supportive there. I made some good friends for the first time.

My parents forced me to get a job and pay rent starting on my 15th birthday and of course I started working at the mall, on Black Friday, in retail. I am great at masking in very short bursts, literally just acting a script, and this is why I only feel comfortable leaving the house if I'm in character 😅So job interviews have never been too difficult thankfully. I had to get out of the whole abusive house situation ASAP so I started full time at an auto shop on the corner of my street the same time I started college, bought a used 2-door black Pontiac Grand Am from some guy on Craiglist with my own money, and moved out when I turned 17. I moved in with my best friend at the time who was also autistic, into a house we were renting from a friend's mom who was in the military.

I started experiencing chronic pain around this time, and had my first Meniere's flare up the first month of college. I was diagnosed with Meniere's at 18 as well as migraines, but my dad and grandfather had the symptoms start around the same age and they were never diagnosed, it was just considered "genetic hearing loss." Basically I have flare ups where I get too dizzy to sit up and my ears go out completely, then when they open back up it's never the same as it was before the flareup. It's been 10 years of this and I'm completely deaf in my left ear and half deaf in my right ear. I wear hearing aids and without them I can't really understand sound, and because of the nerve damage I usually can't tell where sound is coming from when I hear it, which is...an experience lol.

When I was 23, I woke up one day with a huge blind spot (scotoma) in the center of my left eye. I still can't see out of it. I started having other nerve issues in other parts of my body, they did a bunch of tests and found significant weakness in my legs which were also spasming, and all that improved over a year. I am still in the "we have no idea" zone for MS, after MRIs showed possible lesions but it would explain a lot. 🤷🏻‍♂️They told me it could be fibromyalgia or a virus too, but who knows at this point. Just a lot of inflammation.

I personally think a whole lot of this is caused by burnout. The timing is suspicious...

When I was 25 (2019) the nerve issues came back with a vengeance and it corresponded with an extremely stressful job situation. I went through the same tests, which were all inconclusive, again. I have extreme pain in my hands, hips, and feet during these flareups where I can't walk at all or sleep or move, and my ankles will go so numb I get drop foot in both feet and have to wear braces. 😅Eventually the nerve inflammation heals and it takes a few months, but its never the same after.

During this time I also experienced a mental health crisis, SI, and a rapid decline in executive/cognitive functioning due to burnout, because I'd been working full time for 8ish years at that point and autistic burnout is a real thing. I haven't really recovered from that honestly. Which makes work and being alive change to "Expert Mode" from "Hard".

In April 2021, I fell in the shower and sustained a skull fracture w/ moderate TBI. I am much more emotional now than I was before the TBI, my memory is worse, and my migraines have been worse since.

I can't shower unsupervised anymore. I can't do most things unsupervised except work and drive. (I may have issues, but I have always been a damn good driver! I honestly think it's because I played Grand Turismo with my dad's pedal and brake set on PS 1 for years!)

Even before all of that stuff, I knew I could never live alone. I've always lived with friends who knew my situation, and I moved in with my husband 2 weeks after we met and we've been living together since. (10 years now!) I can't do a lot of stuff like cook or use scissors or lift heavy stuff, and I have meltdowns where I will hurt myself without meaning to, it's just always been that way. I can't go out on my own either except for short trips like appointments, due to the fact that I will completely dissociate when I'm overstimulated and my brain function just ceases to exist. I get stuck often (autistic catatonia).

I am now 28 and I'm hanging on to full time work by my last thread. I am grateful I work from home doing software support, but any kind of full time work gives me burnout, which turns into inflammation and physical stress, which makes work harder, etc, it's a lovely spiral! Therapy has been helping me a ton. I've been in all kinds of therapy of my own accord over the last 10 years, and I currently work with an occupational therapist and a therapist who specializes in neurodivergent adults with PTSD.

Without working full time I can't afford therapy and my long list of meds that keep me functional (I can't work without a VERY delicately balanced cocktail of stimulants, benzos, hormones, antidepressants, and THC. I absolutely HATE this with a passion, if I didn't have to work full time, I wouldn't need all the drugs.) There's going to be a day where I wake up and cannot work anymore, and it'll be sooner than later. When that day comes, we'll just have to move to somewhere less expensive and/or back with our wonderfully toxic families. /s

(That's what being disabled in America is like when you're white and have "level 3 autism" and come from a low-income family with many substance abuse problems.)

My husband is neurodivergent too, he's autistic and has ADHD. He can't mask his stimming much, and he's not very smooth socially (its adorable) but he doesn't have the executive function difficulties I do and he does not have apraxia, we're all different! I always get "fake mad" at him because he does things so perfectly the first time, like making the bed or baking or even wiping something off I'm like whoa 👀. It makes me ANGRY 😠/s.

Whatever, he's lucky he's cute.

I can't end anything on a depressing note so I will say that I've grown a lot as a person just in the last 2 years especially since the PTSD diagnosis, and my relationship with my partner is a miracle and I don't believe in that stuff. He has always helped me with everything, selflessly, since day 1. (He's the reason we haven't had to hire any outside help yet, he does the supervising and I don't mind one bit! 🥰)

Writing has always been a very cathartic activity for me, and I started doing a journal "as Vegeta" as a way to help my anxiety. Those journals are being stitched together into my fic on AO3 called "Chances" (linked!) which is goofy self-projecting fanfiction but Vegeta and Goku's characters are literally just me and my husband, 1:1. 😂He learned ASL for me, and we always have a blast in our little corner of the world. Our entire mission in life together is to just have the best time possible, responsibly, because life is short.

But yeah that's my disability story! I can't write anything short so if you made it to the end, here's a cookie 🍪and 🤟. If you're my internet friend, maybe this will help you get to know me better!

[abunchofraccooons]

Double Trouble Incorrect Quotes

Greg, watching the news: Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today! Gregory: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

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Monty: I want to wake up with you for the rest of our lives Freddy: I wake up at 4:30 Monty: Freddy: Monty: I want to see you at one point everyday for the rest of our lives-

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Gregory: So that’s my plan. Greg: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean. Gregory: No, go ahead, I want to hear it. Greg: It fucking sucks. Gregory: That’s not constructive criticism.

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Freddy: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder? Greg&Gregory: Stop romanticizing the past.

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Greg: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate, or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Glamrock Foxy: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

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Therapist: What is your biggest weakness? Emily: I can be uncooperative. Therapist: Okay, can you give me an example? Emily: No.

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Gregory, struggling to keep upright in their 1 inch heels: Yeah, I-I don’t really think heels are for me Greg, pointing at them and walking flawlessly in sparkly golden 6 inch heels: WEAK.

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Freddy: Okay, truth or dare? Vanessa: Truth Freddy: How many hours have you slept this week? Vanessa: Vanessa: ...Dare Freddy: Go to bed. Vanessa: I don’t like this game.

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Emily: You're the love of our life and our best friend, we would do anything for you. Koal: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Jin: Absolutely not.

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Greg: If you were to vacuum up jello through a metal tube, well I think that’d be a neat noise Vanessa: I beg to differ Gregory: Then Beg

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Monty: You're right. Roxanne: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

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Gregory: Are you sure this is the right direction? Greg: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest! Vanessa: In that case, we're definitely lost.

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Gregory: Greg and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us Freddy: *Sighing* What did Greg do? Gregory: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and... Greg: Who wants a steering wheel?

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Greg: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it. Chica: Greg no. Monty: Mistlefoe. Freddy: Please stop encouraging them.

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Koal: Emily, Jin and I are having a baby. The Twins: That's gre- Emily, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

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Gregory: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death? Jin: How am I supposed to know? Greg: You say, as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult. Jin: *sighs* Jin: You wouldn't be trapped.

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Thats it

I loved making these-

[beewritings]

Break up texts with AOT characters

(Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie, Reiner, Zeke & Porco)

AFAB reader

Content Warning: angst, fluff & some nsfw. Mentions of ddlg (?), semi public sex, I think that’s all. :)

Yes, all the times are the times I worked on them. I don’t sleep lmao. There are typos I see them in just unbothered to fix them

Eren

You drive over to Eren’s place about ten minutes later. You already cried and did your little heartbreak grieving before leaving. To be fair , you just wanted to have sex with him one more time. Unless he gets into a new relationship, you wouldn’t mind being his friends with benefits, but considering the fact you’re in love with him... it’s a hard no. You get there after fifteen minutes of driving, you have a spare key which you will be returning so you just walk in. You see him sitting on the couch of his apartment, leaning forward with his legs spread and his head in his hands. He looks up and sees you. You walk to him and sit on the couch in front of him.

“Hey...”

“Hey.”

The awkward silence was so uncomfortable, you honestly didn’t want him to say the words to you again. You just wanted to see him, to have him. One more time before you avoid him forever.

Armin

You feel bad that you broke up with Armin through text, but you didn’t have the guts to tell him in person. But since he was so calm about it, you decided to go and visit him a few hours later. When you get to his dorm which was just across from your dorm building, you do your knock so he knows it’s you. He rushes to the door and greets you with a smile and asks why you’re there. You tell him how you felt bad that you broke up with him by text and wanted to check on him.

“Y/n, I’m fine! It was only 4 months, it takes longer than that for me to fall in love. I saw us as baby couple, just trying it out until it gets serious. I’m not angry, I’m not upset. Don’t worry, y/n. And the way we can still be friends? It makes me happier!”

Let’s just say that a few days later, you crawled right back to him asking him for you back. Eren told him it’s because his dick game strong, and even though Armin knows his game is strong, he knows that you just have a kind heart and that’s why you’ve been attracted to him. Now it’s been over a year and you have a promise ring on your finger :)

Jean

You and Jean are literally in the same apartment. You LIVE with him. You’re in the bathroom and he was cooking food. He texts you telling you to get off the toilet and go to the kitchen so you finish your business and do what he says. You get to the kitchen to smell the beautiful food and you approach your husband.

“You’re joking right? About not feeling it between us?”

“Of course I’m joking, I’m literally married to you. Today is our 2 year anniversary. Jean, did you get high before cooking? Did Eren sneak in here and let you smoke? Are you good?”

Jean holds your waist, giving you kisses on your forehead. He pushes you lightly against the counter next to the stove. He shoves his face into your neck, leaving those gorgeous black and blue galaxies on your neck.

“Really? Before our guests come over? You’re such a bad boy, do I have to punish you later tonight?”

“If anyone’s getting punished, it’s you for pretending to break up with me,” he lifts you up and puts you on the counter, going in between your legs. He lifts up your skirt, leavings kisses all on your thighs making his way to your core. “Now, you be a good girl and let daddy take care of you, yeah?”

Connie (yes the top text is cut off for a reason)

You googled break up texts because you wanted to mess with him, but his responses really disappointed you. Like geez prank gone stupid? When Connie gets to your place, he literally brought his switch and extra controllers and he pushes his way inside. You own the switch lite (pain) so you always ask him to bring his and connect it to the tv. He’s so focused on gaming with you that he doesn’t even pay attention the fact that you’re wearing lingerie. You don’t even want to play, you just wanted sum fuk. He finishes setting up the console and sits on the couch.

“Hey babe. Oh, nice. You look cute.”

“???? CUTE?”

“Yeah. You ready? Lets play.”

“Why am I dating you? You don’t even know how romance works.”

“Yes I do. If I win, I fuck. You win, I go down on you. Is that not how it works?”

“.... connie shut up and let’s just play.”

Reiner

You felt like the world was coming to an end. What made Reiner change his mind? You guys just made love the other night again, he took you out to eat last night, why today? Oh no... was he spoiling you to prepare you for heartbreak? Reiner doesn’t seem like that though.... why is he so poetic yet such an ass? It’s around 9 pm when he stops by with your belongings. You try to give him his goodies but he tells you to keep it. He allows you to cry in his arms, to kiss him one last time. And the whole time this happens, this man gets a raging fucking hard on. You know he had a thing for pain and degradation, but this is real life. Is he really getting turned on by a break up? But... it gives you a chance to have one last sex before he never comes back. Because god that man has a monster dong.

“Reiner.. whats with the hard on?”

He blushes, moving a hand to cover his crotch area. Unfortunately, your hand grips his cock this his pants before he does. He buckled his knees and legs out a strangled moan, just for you.

“Y/n, d-don’t do this..”

“Oh? Who’s the one who got a hard on from breaking up with me? Huh?”

Before you can do anything else, he pushes you off him, your ass landing on the bed. You were expecting one thing, but not what he does.

“Stop! Listen, I got to go. I hope you live a happy life... I love you...”

He walks towards your apartment door, swings it open and steps out.

“Take care.”

Zeke

After Zeke had texted you that, of course you cried. You didn’t know how to take it... he’s in his thirties and you’re only in college. Hell, you have class with his younger brother. But have fun? Go to parties and fuck other men? Like if you’re a cuck, just say it. If he REALLY wants you to party and sleep with other people, they could’ve just stayed in a relationship but make it open. He could’ve added some people to the sequence... you’ve always wanted a threesome, especially with a girl so you don’t understand why he’d just leave you. But you don’t even like parties or clubs. You love him, you want to be settled down. You wanted him. If he found another woman... he would’ve said that right? Or is he manipulative like you heard his brother was? Everyone knows about Eren, he’s a whore. Does it run in the family? No... he only broke up with you today. Just wait a bit before assuming.

A month passes, you went to one (1) party at a club with your dorm roommate, Hitch, and you had a terrible time. You saw one man drop something in your drink (which you proceeded to toss on his face), two others tried sandwiching you on the dance floor (which he elbowed them both in the face), and some other guy literally touched your thigh while trying to speak to you at the bar. You had enough. You socked him in the face, and went towards the bathroom area. You see a familiar face with an unfamiliar woman.

Zeke...

He had a woman with long black hair on his lap. No... it’s hidden but you could see it in plain sight. He had his cock stuffed inside her, under her skirt. She had this twisted face of pleasure and he wasn’t moving, nothing. She was moving her hips on his lap, pleasing him. She looks around and makes eye contact with you. She recognizes you as Zeke’s ex, and rides him quicker.

You look away, angrily and upset, you throw the cup you were babysitting on the floor in front of you, shattering it. People around who heard it look, including Zeke. He turn your head to look him dead in the eye with your look of disgust, and turn around to leave.

That was the last time you saw him or came in contact with him.

Porco

You sigh. You always were there for him on his shitty days. You feel bad leaving him stranded. So you ended up going over. You think it’s a bad idea and it probably is, but you’ll suffer the consequences if so. You drive to his apartment and walk in with the spare key you had. You don’t see him so you assume he’s in his room. You hear a faint sound, almost like a moan. You take a huge sigh. If he’s jerking off, you’re leaving. You walk in, opening his door and you see his back his facing you. He turns around and... he’s crying. Porco isn’t much of a crier so this really shocked you. You run to him, sitting next to him and hold his face.

“Pock, my baby...”

“Y/n, don’t leave me. Please... I know I’m a dickhead a lot and I know I’m a piece of shit. I hold so much anger in me and... I take it out in the wrong person. I’ll take anger management or something, I’ll go to a therapist. Just... please don’t leave me. You’re the reason I wake up, my sun and moon. The one I love, y/n please.. I want to build a future with you. I want to get married, have abratty little mommy’s boy with you and cute little daddy’s girl.... please.. Don’t leave me..”

Well shit. That was some convincing. After telling yourself 400 times to break up with him, he convinced you to stay this easily. After cuddling and holding him in your arms to nap, you woke up with your ass pressed against his dick. Yup, he’s hard. You can imagine what y’all did when he woke up.

You love Porco, and he was right. You wanted to build a future with him too. Maybe it’s time.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

How do I get rid of my envy?

This afternoon there was a report on tv about a young girl with a high iq, who had parents who supported her and she did amazing things as a child and was very fulfilled, you could really see that. And she reminded me of myself. I too have a high iq but it was discovered pretty late, so I got a scholarship on a private university but at that point I was mentally so ruined, that I couldn't graduate. I have very abusive but also distant parents, who left me with a did. I see this girl, who says out loud what I thought as a girl her age, and I can't stop thinking "why can't I be her?". I am 23 now so, I should be done crying about missed chances as a child. And, while I am usually a very empathy person, when I am hit with envy, I can't see further than my own issues. I have to force myself to be nice.

Envy is a very familiar feeling for me. I grew up very poor in a very rich city. And I always felt like "I deserved it more". Because I would appreciate it more. One example is, I always wanted to go horse riding, as a child. But we never had the money (and if, then my parents wouldn't have spent it on me). When I was 11, three of my classmates got their own horses for their birthdays. And they seemed so... uninterested. "Yeah, I got a horse for my birthday. Whatever." Or, I was using my birthday money to pay for flute lessons and always had to lend flutes. One day, the parents of a friend casually mentioned "Yeah, we bought our son (my friends brother) an expert-quality flute. We want him to start learning it and maybe this expensive instrument will motivate him." And ofc it didn't, he wasn't interested in it. There were some such situations.

I assume by now you see were my "I deserve it better" feeling comes from. And back then it was, kinda, valid. I was only envious when it seemed like, the person wasn't appreciating it enough. But that had switched. I don't begrudge people, who have what I want. But I am so fucking envious. And, since my mental health left me crippled, it is a lot that I am envious about. People with loving parents, who are healthy, who were able to graduate from university, who have a fulfilling job, a nice hobby etc pp. I missed out so many chances because of our poverty and later my mental health. And I know I will never be able to make up for everything I never had. Some chances are just lost.

It's not like I am all the time envious, because most ppl have loving parents. But when I hear a former classmate talk about how they love their job, I am. And I have a hard time saying "Good for you" though that's the truth. But I am too busy with my own envy. It kinda mixed with the hate you feel once you realize you've been abused and missed a lot of opportunities. But it isn't just that. I have those feelings seperated too.

How can I overcome this? It leads nowhere and hurts myself and makes me a bitter person. But it hits me so hard, it makes rationality so impossible and what to be rational about? Some people just aren't lucky and I am one of them? I just can't accept that some things are lost for me forever, I assume.

Hi anon,

You're definitely not alone.

Something my therapist tells me is to try to identify what specifically is causing those feelings of envy, and try to do some introspection and see if it's bringing up a past experience. I often find it's because there have been people in my life who look like that minimizing my trauma. So now when I see people who look like they did, I immediately think "they probably wouldn't understand, they wouldn't care" without actually knowing that.

This may not be effective for you, but I know it helps me to try and remember that you don't know what someone may be struggling with behind the scenes and could have had similar experiences as you. I find that it helps humanize them because we've been through difficult things, even the people you least expect. They may not have the exact same experience as you, they may have more privileges than you in some ways, but knowing that they understand your pain on some level can help normalize and neutralize those feelings. I even sometimes look back at my childhood home and feel guilty for being traumatized because I am somewhat well off. But in reality, the advantages that you or I may have don't trump the fact that we've been hurt too, you know?

I have faith that you'll overcome this. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Cozy Sweaters

Jackson Neill x Reader

Sequel to Cold Hands, requested by @detectivebarba​ & written for @storiesofsvu​’s Fall Bingo! 

Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Fluff? 

Summary: Oh my god they were roommates.

3,350 words

September 8th

The living room of your apartment—what used to be your apartment—was abuzz with heated voices.

“We’re sorry, but you said you were moving out!”

“So you just gave away my room?! I’m allowed to change my mind!”

Your roommates glanced between each other, awkwardness thick in the air.

“Ed is moving here all the way from England on the promise that he would have a room. He already bought his plane ticket. We’d really be screwing him over.”

“But… where am I supposed to go?”

Jenny sighed and shook her head. “Listen, if this wasn’t so last-minute, I’d understand, but you were supposed to move in with your boyfriend next week. We already made plans to fill your spot…” She really was sorry, in other words, but you were stuck.

“Can’t you still move in with him?” Todd added, and Jenny shot daggers from her eyes.

“He cheated on me!”

“Yeah, but you said he didn’t want to break up, right? Just work things out.”

“I am not,” you hissed through gritted teeth, “ever taking him back after what he did.”

September 13th

Every one-bedroom apartment listing in the greater NYC area was out of your price range. You tapped your friend group, colleagues, and acquaintances for roommates and came back empty. You went on Craig’s List and met with a few strangers seeking roommates. The ones who weren’t terrifying never called you back.

Meanwhile, Jackson Neill had been blowing up your phone.

Well, not blowing up—the first night he got drunk and filled your inbox begging you to come back, sobbing and slurring into your voicemail, spamming indecipherable text messages. The next morning, a single text read: “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate, and it won’t happen again.”

And it didn’t.

But he sent another message a few days later telling you he’d found some more of your stuff, if you’d like it back. That you were always welcome to talk if you wanted to. He wanted to be there for you. You didn’t message him back.

September 14th

It was a cold, rainy day on campus, so you risked taking a shortcut to the dining hall. You turned the corner of an old brick building, and there he was, walking out of the Department of Religious Studies, jacket collar pulled up over his neck because the forgetful fool could never remember his umbrella.

He froze at the same time you did.

All you could hear was your pulse drumming inside your skull like rain. You knew you’d run into him eventually, but you hadn’t decided how to react, and your body wasn’t offering any suggestions.

He gave you a pitiful smile and lifted his hand. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

One leaden foot shuffled in front of the other, and you kept walking. He nodded with a wan smile and sad eyes and didn’t chase you.

The outdoor seating was closed because of the weather, so the dining hall was crowded and buzzing. You snatched a small two-seat table just as another student left, brushing a stale French fry off it onto the floor. Sinking down to enjoy your cheap sandwich, you glanced around the crowd.

A middle-aged man with a soggy jacket and salt-and-pepper hair, who had no right to be so breathtakingly handsome, was searching desperately for a seat while precariously balancing a tray of soup and coffee.

He felt your gaze on him, and you were fixed with a beam of frozen green eyes.

You waved him over.

“I wasn’t following you, I swear.”

“I don’t know, eating lunch? At lunchtime? That can’t be a coincidence.”

The corner of his lip wanted to smile, but he didn’t seem entirely sure you were joking.

“Just sit down and eat,” you sighed. “There’s nowhere else.”

He sat.

Silence crackled between you like the sky before a thunderstorm as you ate your lunches.

“So,” Jackson started cautiously, “how have you been?”

You gave a dry snort. “Oh, just fucking peachy. I’m going to be homeless in two days, thanks to you.”

“What?!”

Jackson listened with a deepening frown as you told him about your roommate plight. Then he offered you a room at his house.

“Go to hell. I’m not going to move in with you like nothing ever happened!”

“No, it wouldn’t be like that. I have a spare bedroom. It’s a big house, and I could use help with the bills. Please—it’s the least I can do. Just until you get back on your feet.”

September 17th

It wasn’t like you had much choice.

You moved into Jackson’s house as originally planned, albeit under different circumstances. Instead of sharing his bed, he cleared out the spare room he’d been using, in theory, as a “gym,” and in practice as a storage closet. There was plenty of space, and with how late he always worked at the university, you’d barely see him anyway.

This might just work out.

September 20th

This was never going to work.

Your heart broke all over again every morning you walked downstairs and saw Jackson in the kitchen making pancakes, because every time, you had to fight the urge to come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist like you used to do.

God, you wanted him back. If only you could erase the image of him with her from your mind.

October 7th

Jackson begged you to take him back.

One thing after another had gone wrong after he publicly confronted the Meyerist Movement. The cult pressured the publisher to pull his book. The university put him on leave while they investigated his alleged relationship with a student. You wandered into the living room that night and found him curled up on the couch, and his resolve broke.

There were tears in his eyes as he tried to pull you into a hug, and when you jerked away, they cascaded down his cheeks. He kept saying he was sorry over and over.

“Please. I need you. Everything is falling apart—if I could at least have you to hold onto… just one thing that wasn’t broken. Please, just tell me how to make it up to you. Haven’t I done enough? If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me? Please let me hold you?”

This was hard for you, too. Part of you wanted to give in, tell him it was all OK, let him kiss you, and see him smile. The worst part of all of this was that you still loved him, but you could never trust him again. He put on such a sweet, innocent act—he was a wonderful boyfriend—but now you knew he was a manipulative liar.

You should never have moved in.

“There’s no undoing the past. We both need to move forward, not back. I’m going to start looking for other places to live.”

October 8th

Morning brought a more sober Jackson knocking at your door. Dark circles hung under his eyes, but he hadn’t been crying recently.

“Please don’t feel like you have to leave. I can get my shit together. I’m calling a therapist today.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah.” He stared at his feet, shifting on the hardwood floor.

“Jackson… I’ll only hurt you if I stay. This is too hard on you.” For us. “Besides, I can’t freeload here forever.”

“You do pay rent, you know.”

“I know, but—”

“I only have the kids every other weekend, and it’s a big house. It gets lonely. You’re doing me a favor being here.”

November 10th

In the last month, Jackson convinced you there was no hurry to move out.

He was a great roommate. He cooked, cleaned, respected your boundaries. He was a truly decent man, if an unfaithful lover, but since you were just friends now, it didn’t matter who he fucked. The biggest concern was that he wanted you back, and living together was a constant source of emotional pain. But on that front, he finally seemed to be moving on.

Whenever the topic came up, he assured you that you were welcome to stay as long as you wanted.

“It’s just so hard to find a decent place in my price range.”

“I mean it,” Jackson reiterated, adding emphasis. “If you want to stay, I enjoy having a roommate.”

You searched for hidden motives in his voice, his expression. Was this part of a long game to get you back? But his tone was friendly and open. Knowing how quickly he jumped from his ex-wife to you to Sarah, there was no way he didn’t already have his eye on someone new. At this point, you were just roommates.

“You mean permanently? Isn’t living with an ex a recipe for disaster?”

He chuckled. “The last few years with my wife were much worse than this, trust me. We were trying to stay together until the kids went to college, but emotionally, we were already divorced. It was awful… sharing a room. Constant fighting.” His eyes took a dull, faraway look as he remembered.

Worry lines creased your brow. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through that again?”

He grinned, snapping out of it, and patted you on the head like you were one of his kids. “You are nothing like her. We’re friends.”

You liked the sound of that. Friends.

November 14th

The sound of screams greeted you as you opened the front door and hung your keys on their hook next to your jacket. Jackson was watching a scary movie marathon in the living room, apropos of the foggy autumn weather.

“Candyman. Care to join?” He patted the cushion beside him.

You stayed up past midnight in your pajamas, sharing popcorn, laughing, and hiding your eyes from the gory parts. Jackson remained on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to touch you.

November 19th

You caught Jackson having lunch with an attractive student. It made your blood freeze, then boil when he walked with her back to his office.

Alone.

Fists clenched, you pressed your ear to the closed door, and heard… an essay on the role of religion in perpetuating homophobia. He was helping her edit a paper. Like professors do.

You followed them all the way from the dining hall just for talking.

When did you become a crazy ex? Why would you care if he was schtupping a hot student? You wanted him to move on—you were glad he didn’t tear up every time you walked into the kitchen anymore. But you knew then that you weren’t over him yet.

If you saw him out with someone new, it would sting like he was betraying you all over again. So you tried hard to be the one to move on first.

November 30th

A car honked outside.

“Oh, that’s my date,” you apologized to Jackson. “Gotta go.”

You got a little rush of schadenfreude from the kicked-puppy look that flashed across his face as you left him mid-conversation, sitting at the kitchen table across from your abandoned teacup. It felt like a big fuck-you, letting him know you’d be fucking someone else. A dare: let’s see if you really meant it when you said we could be friends.

But the look had barely contorted his features when he swallowed it down and smiled, “Be safe.”

He was probably going on plenty of dates himself and just didn’t tell you out of consideration for your feelings. He didn’t want you to feel used, betrayed, and immediately replaced. You were both moving on.

After a string of Tinder hookups, you felt like Jackson was out of your system, romantically speaking.

December 17th

A light dusting of snow floated down through the pale morning air. Jackson woke up on the left side of the bed, as he did every morning, and as he did every morning, turned to his right hoping to find you there. The blankets were cold.

He shivered.

You had a date last night and didn’t come home. He waited up, but never heard your car in the driveway, your keys in the door. Since you weren’t there to see his red eyes, he allowed himself to cry.

February 14th

A dull, rhythmic thumping carried through the walls. The creaking of a mattress. You cried out a name, voice cracking as you came for the second time.

It was the same guy again.

Casual hookups he could handle, but it had been the same guy for weeks now. Jackson told himself he deserved this. This was what he did to you, only while you were together. When you trusted him not to. He deserved to hear the one he loved being taken by another man.

As much as he wanted you to be his, you weren’t. He had no right to feel burning bile rising in his stomach at each of your moans and gasps. You were doing nothing wrong.

“You live here. Of course you can have dates over. No, it’s not awkward. We’re friends.”

A hot tear slid from his eye as he buried his head in a pillow.

This guy better take care of you.

May 1st

He didn’t have a roommate anymore. Not really. You spent all your time at Rodney’s apartment.

Soon you would move out, and he’ll have lost you forever.

He wanted to warn you not to move so fast, but what right did he have to judge? He let you move at the same pace with him. Let you trust him, fall in love with him, have a spare toothbrush on his sink within a few months. All the while, he figured a little action on the side wouldn’t hurt. Did he think he could chase two of you at once and get to keep the winner?

Idiot.

Sinner. That’s what his mami would say.

The few times you were home, he didn’t express his concerns about your boyfriend. He would only sound jealous, and it would push you away. If he wanted to be someone you would still answer the phone for when you moved out, he had to be a good friend, not a jealous ex.

Fuck. He hoped it worked out between you and Rodney. He really did. He hoped you were happy.

October 2nd

You came home for the first time in weeks crying. Heavy tears rolled down your face, legs shaking as you crawled up the stairs to your bedroom. Jackson was off the couch in an instant, spring up to follow you.

“Hey… Hey, what’s wrong?” He gingerly touched your shoulder, palm spreading out to make comforting circles when you didn’t shake him off. “Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, sniffing as you slumped down onto your bed. Jackson sat beside you, worry etched into his features. He was so cute. After all this time, he still cared about you. You thought about all the times he’d begged for you back, in the beginning, desperate to hold you again. Fuck, you just wanted to feel that wanted again.

“Rodney and I broke up,” you mumbled.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear th—”

You gripped the hair at the back of his head and tugged him roughly into a kiss. Every muscle in his neck and shoulders tensed. A surprised noise was muted between your crushing lips. You could have sworn, for a moment, he started kissing you back, but then his big hands clamped like two vices on your shoulders, and he pushed you away.

“What are you doing?” His eyes were wide.

“What does it look like?” you purred, fingers clawing at the buttons of his cardigan. “I want you to take me, Jackson.”

His hands stopped you from leaning close again. “No. Stop it.”

“Come on, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“We can’t… I won’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just upset, and—”

“Fuck you! So you’ll fuck anyone and not give a shit—you’ll fuck around on me and break my heart, but you won’t fuck me when I’m asking you to?! The one time I just need you to be there, and now you’re on your high fucking horse, pretending to be a good guy?! I bet you’d screw Sarah! Fuck you. Fuck you!”

Your shoulders shook as your tirade broke down more and more into sobs. Deep down, you knew he was right. You’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t he just… want you?

“Why? Why not? Am I that… am I that unlovable?”

“Because you crying.” Tears were shimmering in his eyes as he said it, softly wiping a tear from your cheek. “You’re crying.”

With a gasp, you threw yourself down on the bed and buried your face in a pillow. You screamed into it, your own breath hot and wet against your face. Jackson’s weight shifted the mattress beside you, and your hand shot out in panic, blindly groping toward the movement. You felt pathetic. Needy. But you didn’t want to be alone.

“Don’t go.”

The mattress sank back down under him. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t take advantage of you, but if you want me to stay, I’ll stay. As long as you want.”

That was all you wanted to hear in that moment, to know someone wouldn’t abandon you. His warm hand rubbed your back in slow circles as you wept, patiently listening as you told him everything in disjointed, broken pieces. How you were just being paranoid—invading Rodney’s privacy when he left his phone unlocked. You were paranoid because your last boyfriend cheated. Then you found the lewd messages, and it didn’t seem real. Plans to meet at a bar downtown. You didn’t believe it until he was toweling off, telling you something came up with his mom, and he’d be out for a while. And you followed him down to the bar and saw them together.

“He was an asshole,” Jackson said.

“Am I doomed? Cursed? Why does everyone cheat on me? Is it my fault?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Shut up! You did it, too,” you snapped. “I’m just not special enough to hold anyone’s attention. I’ll never be enough.”

“No,” he growled with a ferocity that startled you, “You’re wonderful, and anyone would be lucky to have you. That guy was an asshole, and so was I for taking you for granted. You did nothing to deserve this. One day you’ll find someone who appreciates you… who learns to treat you the way you deserve to be treated before they lose the best thing to ever happen to them.”

You shifted to press yourself closer to him. The tears didn’t stop, but a warmth spread through your chest. Jackson felt like a cozy sweater—warm and familiar. Easy to cry into. His arms were surprisingly solid and thick, but gentle when they closed around you.

He was a comfortable old sweater you could slip back on after leaving it in the closet for a year.

***

Hours passed by, and you had no more tears left. No energy left to move. Jackson was still beside you, keeping watch, as promised. You were curled up with your head in his lap, his fingers in your hair.

When he was sure you were asleep, he carefully extracted himself from under you, gradually shifting your head onto the pillow so you wouldn’t wake up. He breathed, heart aching as he looked down at your sleeping form. You deserved better than tear-stained cheeks. He knew he had no right to be so angry, but he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt again.

You wouldn’t have been if he had just…

He let his tears fall silently. This was about you, and he didn’t want to make you console him, but you were asleep now. He could let go.

He ran his fingers through your hair one last time. Then, with a furtive glance, he bent and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I never stopped.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

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