#i think i need to talk to my therapist about this

[writerdownbookworder]

I frown. "You have a therapist?"

He scoffs. "I kill people for a living. Of course I have a therapist! Pamela is completely qualified, if that's what you're worried about."

My brow furrows. "So...you want me, your public nemesis number 1, to come to your home, chill in your guest room, and chat with your therapist?"

He rolls his eyes. "That's not...actually, yeah. That's pretty accurate."

"Why?"

"I need someone around that I'm not paying to keep me company."

I think that was supposed to be a joke, but his delivery was a bit to dry, too forced. Is he...lonely? I shake my head. "But why are you offering that to me? What if I say no?"

He growls. "I just offered you mercy. Your life. And your questioning me? I threatened your life and you actually asked me to.... I don't think you're okay." He folds his arms as if to say, I win. Give it your best shot. The prick even raises his eyebrows to taunt me. Jerk.

I grit my teeth. "So you just want me to sit around your house all day? Where's the fun in that?"

He rubs a hand on his temples. "What part of 'talk to my therapist' did you not understand? I'm serious. We've been fighting over this kingdom for years, and you've always put up a fight."

I know when I've lost a fight, and this is no different. I have a feeling that even if I sit down and refuse to move, he would knock me out and take me back anyway.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll meet Pamela. She better be a good listener."

Under the mask, I think I can see a smile. "She is."

And I know I must have imagined it, but later, I could swear that he mumbled under his breath, "And so am I."

When the villain demanded that you submit or be destroyed you just apathetically shrugged and braced yourself for death. You were surprised when the villain did not kill you and instead offered you a nice, comfortable room and an appointment with their personal therapist.

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[starlighttsv]

Can you do Pazzi as moms where there daughter is a little bit older and she gets bad grades and Paige and azzi help her

Bad News - Pazzi’s daughter

Sum: Saylor gets bad grades and her teacher calls Azzi

Warnings: based in 2044, a curse word lmao

Notes: was I daydreaming or something? Why is this all over the place? 😵‍💫 I didn’t go into to much detail about p & a helping her bc I didn’t really know what else to put so sorry about that.

Wc: 1.2k

Pair: pazzi x daughter!oc

Saylor’s Masterlist

“Hi is this Azzi Fudd?” A girl says over the phone “Yes, and who is this?” Azzi responds back “I’m Mrs. Smith, one of your daughters teachers. Um im calling because Saylor is failing my class and two others. We have tried to help her but it doesn’t seem to be working. She failed her test for my class yesterday and it’s not looking good for the tests in the other two classes either.” Mrs. Smith says over the phone

“What? That’s not like Saylor, she normally does really good in school.” Azzi replies confused “Thats what me and her other teachers have been talking about. We didn’t know if maybe there was something going on at home to make her not be concentrating, or maybe her friend group?”

“No, No there’s nothing going on at home. As for her friend group I don’t really know. I’ll talk to her other mom and we will try to figure it out, thank you for calling” Azzi says to mrs. smith with both of them saying byes then hanging up

Azzi sighs pulling the phone from her ear and going to Paige’s contact- not knowing if she’s gonna answer or not because Paige was at a photo shoot

“Hey Az, what’s up?” Paige says over the phone after picking up on the 2nd ring “are you busy?” Azzi asks “nah, I just left the photo shoot figured I would stop at the store and get stuff for dinner and then maybe bring home some lunch? You good with chipotle or you want something else?” Paige asks

“Chipotle is fine, but um I just got a call from one of Saylors teachers” Azzi says to Paige, “What? Is Saylor ok? Do I need to go get her from school?”

“No. No, she’s fine but she’s failing some of her classes and her teachers are worried somethings going on at home or with her friends” Azzi says while packing her duffel and starting to walk to her car

“Well nothings going on at home and she should only be talking to her friends at school. She’s still grounded. So I don’t know what could possibly be happening in her friend group at school for her to be failing multiple classes. Hey I’m gonna FaceTime you I’m about to start driving”

Azzi doesn’t answer and just waits for the FaceTime call, accepting it when it appears on her phone “maybe it’s the grounding?” Azzi says confused while watching Paige start driving and turn onto the main road

“If it is the grounding she needs to get over it immediately. She knew she wasn’t gonna get away with sneaking out, we would have found out eventually. We need to just sit her down and make her talk to us-“ Paige starts but Azzi cuts in “but that’s easier said than done”

“Exactly!” Paige starts “FUCK! What is happening with her? Is it us? Did we do something to make her start acting out? Do we need to get her like a therapist or something?” Paige stresses

Azzi has already started making her way home while Paige was going to the store. “I don’t think we’ve done anything. She started acting out like 2 years ago-“

“When we had her transfer schools.” Paige cuts in “Do you think that’s it? She’s mad at us for her transferring so she’s punishing us by acting out?” Azzi says pulling into the garage and sitting in the car

“I can’t think of anything else, can you?” Paige asks still driving to get to the store

“No, not really.” Azzi sighs “I just want our daughter back to her normal self. It’s like she’s possessed by something.” Azzi now stresses

“I get it mama, I do. I want her back too but I don’t know, maybe we do family therapy?” Paige asks pulling into a parking spot at the store and grabbing her phone from the phone holder on the dashboard

“Couldn’t hurt” Azzi says pinching the bridge of her nose “I’ll let you go I can see you just pulled into the store. Im probably gonna go take a shower and then start cleaning, let me know what you decide for dinner yeah?”

“You go it. I love you” Paige responds

“I love you too”

After a few hours of Paige and Azzi hanging out and watching movies, Saylor finally gets home and walks through the door

“Hey baby come in the living room for a few please” azzi says out to Saylor who was a few rooms away literally just walking through the door

“Give me a sec mom” Saylor shouts taking off her shoes by the front door and setting her backpack by them. Saylor grabs the emergency phone and then walks to the living room, tossing it onto the cushion next to Azzi

“What do I have to be in here for?” Saylor asks “here take a seat” azzi says pointing to the love seat across from Paige and Azzi, making Saylor look at her confused but doing it anyway

“Your teacher called, saying that your failing a few different classes” azzi started “We have to ask, are you actually struggling or are you just faking it as a way to get back at us for grounding you? Cause we can help you if you’re actually struggling or we can pay someone to tutor you but we’re not gonna do that if you’re just trying to get back at us.” Paige finishes for Azzi

Saylor just stays quiet with her head down looking at her hands making Paige and Azzi look at each other before Paige starts speaking again. “Saylor. Do you need help with school?” Paige says with a soft voice Saylor just keeps looking at her hands “bug?” Paige says still with a soft voice

Saylor takes a second before nodding her head slowly “you do need help?” Azzi asks making Saylor shake her head again

Paige and Azzi both get up and sit on either side of Saylor both hugging her “that’s all you had to say Saylor, you didn’t have to go through all that homework and tests knowing you were gonna fail. We would’ve helped you” Azzi says with her lips pressed against Saylors temple

Saylor just leans into both of them “hey, what are you struggling with?” Paige says softly

“Math, science, and history” Saylor mumbles out “well we can help you with those. Unless you want a tutor? Your choice” Paige says kissing Saylors temple while Azzi’s rubbing her back

Saylor just cuddles closer to Paige’s chest making her laugh “was that your answer?” She says amusingly making Saylor have a small smile on her face while nodding

“Alright” Azzi says giving Saylor another kiss on her forehead before standing up “you wanna help me with dinner and then after we can take a look at your homework? Maybe we can make some cookies too.”

Saylor looks up with her head still placed on Paige’s chest, and nods making Paige stand up and then pull Saylor up to her feet. “Cmon let’s go make dinner, I’m hungry” Paige says pulling Saylor and Azzi to the kitchen making both of them laugh but follow her anyways.

That’s how the Bueckers family spent the rest of their evening. Cooking dinner, baking cookies, and doing homework.

@melpthatsme

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Abby notices when you’re depressed. Let’s talk about how she handles that as your partner.

These are modern Abby headcanons. The list was much longer, but I cut it down considerably to keep it from getting too long-winded. I do have a piece written for WLF Abby. If it's something you want to see, let me know.

Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're here.

• Maybe it’s a slow descent this time… little by little, losing interest in your favourite pastimes and finding it hard to discover meaning in daily life. In the midst of trying to survive, there is suddenly no room left for indulging in your hobbies.

Abby, with every random blanket and sheet she owns, constructs a blanket fort in the living room, offering a pressure-free zone where you can do nothing but feel completely safe and loved.

Super cozy, not too busy, and mega peaceful against the demands of a world that is asking far too much of you in this moment.

Does she deep-dive Youtube tutorials on how to build epic forts that probably belong in a magazine? I mean, yeah. Give her a break, alright? Complete dedication is the way this girl operates, and I’ll die on that hill. Also, Abby is a tall, sturdy girlie, and she needs to fit inside it with you. If you’re going to live in this fort together for the foreseeable future, she needs it to be good for you.

Now, if you want an enormous blanket hanging precariously off the side of the couch with a half-dead flashlight and crinkled comics shoved underneath some pillows, date Ellie. Still cute, still the thought that counts, but she’s no Abigail it’s my mission to save you Anderson.

• Abby stocks up on all your go-to snacks because she gets that it's hard to think about the basics when you're too bone-tired to move… nevermind prioritizing measly things like providing yourself sustenance. She’s got you covered.

• She refuses to let you marinate in the feeling of being a burden. She shuts that shit down fast.

“You’re my person, okay? I’m not going anywhere. End of story.”

• Abby grew up around doctors, so she'll for sure be the one to look up therapists and leave the info pinned to the fridge beneath a small magnet that is, of course, a laminated photo of the two of you on your first date. She describes it as the most important day of her life and brings it up regularly.

“You know, I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, but every time I look at it, it hits me all over again—how much that day meant to me.” Her voice dips low as she confesses something so immensely sacred to her. “The day I realized you weren’t just someone I wanted in my life. I’d been waiting for you without even knowing it. I thought I had it all figured out before you. Fuck, was I ever wrong.”

(Just know there's no rush to decide anything big when it comes to choosing a method of healing, but it's there when you're ready.)

• On your hardest days, she stays close, but she doesn’t push. She’ll busy herself with repairs around the home or folding the mountain of laundry shoved up against the wall in your bedroom.

• Abby loves to buy those cute nightlights with little animals on them or the ones that change colours, and she scatters them around the house. When you’re lost in the darkness, right?

• She serves you warm drinks in your favourite mug and nothing else. She’ll handwash it a million times a day if she must.

• Abby's phone chirps with little alarms throughout the day, reminding her to do something special for you. This is all the time, not just when you’re depressed, to be certain.

• Weighted blankets everywhere. Vehicles included.

• I don’t care what anyone says, Abby is soft as a motherfucker, okay? Is she rough around the edges? Maybe. Yes. 100%. Fine, she’s a hot mess, but will she read you poetry aloud, until her voice is hoarse, and her lips go dry? Without a doubt. There are sticks and jars of lip ointment all over the place wherever Abby resides.

Fun fact: Abby hates when her lips feel dry, even slightly. She is constantly reaching for ChapStick and all its cousins. Whenever someone tells her she should stop using her precious lip stuff because it will improve the sensory nightmare in the long run, she’ll immediately do that pouty, nose crinkle thing at them and ignore the advice without a breath.

• Abby lets you wear all her sweaters. That’s a given. But when you’re depressed, she tends to reach for yours as well. It helps her feel close to you when she’s dealing with her own inner turmoil.

• She doesn’t fuck around when she senses you’re starting to spiral. Her routines are extremely important to her, but she will put them on pause to be there for you.

Now, does she gently, lovingly, force your ass to go on walks with her to get some fresh air somewhere you feel comfortable? Yeah, she does. This might be annoying at times when you’re really struggling, and she knows it. She’ll still encourage movement in a way that is manageable for you if leaving the house is too daunting.

If that means you’re standing on her feet, arms wrapped around her neck while she sways side to side with you, so be it.

• She'll binge-watch your favorite shows and movies with you until she drains all the power in the entire city.

• Abby won't make you feel awkward if you cry. She'll just start crying, too, even if she tries so hard not to. She gets better at keeping it to a little glossy eyed moment, but sometimes your pain is her pain, and the dam just… breaks.

• Abby is an actions over words type of human. She’s a doer. Also, timing doesn’t matter much to her. She is desperate to give you a future to believe in because she is so certain that what the two of you share is everlasting.

Abby proposes to you when your hair is a mess, and you’ve been in the same pajamas for days. Fuzzy teeth? Fear not. She isn’t afraid of the hard times. Her love is an anchor. A constant.

She wants to remind you that you’ll never have to face your dark times alone.

Shadows dance on the tapestry walls of the blanket fort, illuminated by the warm, flickering lights hanging inside. Across from you, Abby lounges with her legs stretched out and her back propped against a pile of soft pillows. She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with something in her hands.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle and husky, like gravel smoothed by unrelenting water. “When I was little, I used to make forts like this with my dad. We’d sit in the middle of all the chaos and just… talk about random shit. Nothing outside could touch us.”

As she glances at you, there is a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.

“That’s what this feels like—being with you. Even when everything else seems like it’s falling apart, you’re my safe place.”

Abby leans forward, her knees brushing yours, and you realize she’s holding a small velvet box. Her confidence wavers, revealing a hint of vulnerability you rarely see.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. About us—what we mean to each other.” Her voice cracks a little, causing her to pause and clear her throat before she continues.

“I know you’ve been feeling lost. And I know I can’t fix it, even when it kills me—even when all I want to do is make the hurting go away. But I can promise you this...”

She opens the box, the ring glimmering in the soft light, her affectionate, earnest gaze meeting yours.

"I promise you'll always have someone by your side to help you through it. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll be right here with you. For the tough days, the good ones, everything the world throws at us. Because you’re it for me. You always have been."

With each word, her voice grows softer, filled with an unmistakable tremor of emotion.

“Let me be your person forever. Let me love you, fight for you. Let me build you giant blanket forts until we’re way too fucking old to do it by ourselves—and then let me find new ways to take care of you. Because it’s all I want in this lifetime. You’re all I see. Will you marry me?”

[midnight-soulless-system]

I just realized I got one of my own stories.

Almost 2 years ago, I had a black goldendoodle named Trinity. She was my childhood dog, and me and my mother had taught her everything she knew, all of her manners, extra tricks etc. My mother and her then wife divorced and since her ex-wife got one of those fake registries for service dogs, the court decided to let her take the dog. Unfortunately the only reason she did that was to try and guilt me into seeing her, since she didn't even want the dog but I refused to talk to her or see her at all (and my mother, doctors, psychiatrist, and therapist agreed). My mother and I live in an apartment and the man that was head of maintenance really loved Trinity and Trinity loved him, so when we had to give her away we found him and told him that we no longer had the dog, and we all had a little bit of a sad moment about it and went our ways.

A few days later and he sees us again, just tajing the trash out and he's like "hey! My wife and I have two kittens left that we want to give away, and I want you to have them if you can. We'll give them to you for free since i trust you and think you'll give them a good home." So mommy and I were like "fuck yeah we wsnt these kittens" quickly went to petco, got a bunch of things for kittens and then picked them up that night.

Then, a few months ago, my mother saw a post on Facebook from her coworker about how she's going through a divorce and neither her or her ex husband can take care of the dog they had, and that it needed a good home. My mother asked me if I wanted it, I said yes, and we made plans to pick it up that Thursday. We got her for free as well, and she was clearly neglected by the ex husband. We shaved all of her mats off, cleaned her and have been training her the basics and hopefully will train her to become a service dog. Just this week her and the cats have found a way to live together peacefully. The dog's name is Cocoa, and the cats are named Boof and Strainer. They're wonderful animals and are slowly befriending each other.

A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad

[xoxorealitygalore]

Trust and Believe V

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Joe and Keyshia sat across from each other in the cozy, dimly lit therapy room. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, and the tension between them felt palpable, even in this neutral space meant for healing. They had been to therapy a handful of times before, but today felt different. It was as if they were on the precipice of something—some breakthrough, some painful truth or realization.

The therapist, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Reynolds, sat across from them, her calm demeanor offering a quiet sense of reassurance. She had seen many couples come through her doors, some barely hanging on, others desperate for answers, and some simply unsure of where to start. Joe and Keyshia were somewhere in between.

Keyshia sat with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked between Joe and Dr. Reynolds, but her body language was tense—on guard, as if she were preparing herself for something that might hurt. Joe, on the other hand, leaned back slightly on the couch, looking more relaxed but with an undercurrent of nervousness. His fingers tapped lightly on his thigh as he glanced at Keyshia, a small furrow in his brow.

Keyshia spoke first. Her voice, though calm, carried the weight of a lifetime of unspoken emotions.

“It’s hard,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “It’s really hard, Dr. Reynolds. I feel like I’m fighting a battle inside myself every day. Every time I get upset, every time something triggers me, my insides just… burn up. I feel like I’m going crazy, like I’m about to lose control. But I’ve learned to control it. I’ve learned not to crash out, not to let it all explode. And that’s been tough. Really tough.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded, acknowledging the depth of what Keyshia was expressing. She understood that emotions like the ones Keyshia was describing weren’t easily managed, and that the act of controlling one’s own emotional responses took more than just willpower—it took self-awareness, time, and effort. Keyshia wasn’t just talking about being angry or upset; she was describing the intense, gut-wrenching, almost uncontrollable feelings that came from years of emotional turmoil.

Joe shifted in his seat, looking down for a moment before meeting Keyshia’s eyes. There was a mix of regret and guilt in his gaze. He knew he had played a part in bringing them to this place, and the weight of that was heavy on his heart. He had cheated on Keyshia, and now they were here, trying to piece together the fragments of their broken relationship.

“I didn’t make it easy for you,” Joe said quietly, his voice full of regret. “I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

Keyshia let out a small, almost dismissive laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but more of a laugh born out of frustration. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked away from him, her jaw clenched. She was tired of hearing the same apologies. She had heard them countless times before, each one seeming more like an empty gesture than a true sign of remorse.

“I’m tired of hearing that, Joe,” Keyshia said, her voice low but firm. “I’m tired of hearing you say sorry and not understanding why it even happened in the first place. You don’t get to just apologize and think that fixes everything. I need to understand why. I need to know why you cheated. What happened? Where did we go wrong?”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Joe's eyes dropped once more, as if he were searching for the right words, for an answer that could satisfy the pain and confusion in her voice. He didn’t have an immediate answer, not one that felt worthy of her pain, but he knew he had to try.

"I… I don’t know," he said slowly, as if the admission pained him. "I think I was selfish. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you, or how they would affect us. I wasn’t thinking about the relationship, I was thinking about myself. I don’t want to make excuses, but I know I screwed up. I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But what I can do is try to be better now. And I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s all I have."

Keyshia was quiet for a moment, processing his words. Her expression softened, but the pain was still evident in her eyes. The trust that had once been a solid foundation between them had been shattered, and rebuilding it seemed like an impossible task.

Dr. Reynolds, sensing the tension between them, decided to step in gently.

"It’s clear that both of you are carrying a lot of pain," she said, her voice calm and steady. "And it’s also clear that Keyshia has made significant progress in managing her emotions. But managing emotions doesn’t mean they go away, Keyshia. You’ve been working hard to control how you respond, but it’s important to also understand where those emotions come from and what they mean. And Joe, you’re carrying your own guilt. The question now is how you both move forward from here."

Keyshia nodded, her arms still tightly crossed. She could feel the weight of her emotions building up inside her, but she had learned over the years how to keep them at bay. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to scream, to shout at Joe for everything that had gone wrong. She wanted him to understand just how deep the hurt went, just how much she had to fight every day not to let that hurt control her. But she didn’t want to explode again. She didn’t want to crash out.

“I’ve been doing better, but it’s still hard,” Keyshia admitted, her voice quiet but honest. “Sometimes I just want to lose control. Sometimes I just want to scream at you, at everything. But I know that won’t help. It won’t fix anything. But I don’t know how to stop feeling the way I do.”

Joe looked at her, his heart aching. He could see the inner turmoil she was going through, the battle she fought every day to keep her emotions in check. And he knew, deep down, that he had been the catalyst for so much of that pain.

“I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to make it harder for you, Keyshia. I want to be better. I want to fix this, but I know it’s going to take time. And I know I can’t just tell you it’s going to be okay. I have to show you.”

Keyshia’s eyes softened slightly, but there was still a guardedness to her expression. She wasn’t ready to fully let her guard down. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. But she appreciated that Joe was at least acknowledging her pain and the effort she was putting into holding everything together.

Dr. Reynolds spoke again, guiding them back to the heart of the issue.

“Keyshia, it seems like you’ve made a lot of progress in understanding and managing your emotions,” she said. “But you’ve also been through a lot. You’re not just controlling your reactions; you’re trying to make sense of them, and that’s a crucial part of healing. Joe, you’ve acknowledged your mistakes. The next step is to explore how you both can begin to rebuild trust and communication.”

Keyshia nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. "I just don't understand how things went wrong. How did we get here? I want to understand how we got to this point so that I can make sense of it. I don’t want to keep feeling this way, but it’s hard when I feel like there’s so much left unanswered.”

Joe glanced at her, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He wished he could explain everything, wished he could give her the answers she was desperately searching for. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure himself. He didn’t know when or how things had started to unravel. He had been selfish, disconnected, and unable to see how his actions affected the person he loved most.

“I don’t have all the answers, Keyshia,” he said softly. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to try. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, but I can promise that I’m going to work every day to be the person you deserve.”

The room fell into a quiet stillness as the words hung in the air. Joe's vulnerability, his willingness to admit his faults and face the consequences of his actions, was a step toward healing. But it was only one step. The journey ahead would be long, full of hard conversations, raw emotions, and painful revelations.

Keyshia looked at Joe, her eyes searching his face for something—some sign that he truly meant it, that he was ready to do the hard work that rebuilding trust required. She didn’t know if she could fully trust him again, not yet, but there was a small part of her that felt the smallest flicker of hope.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you completely,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m willing to try. For us. For me.”

And in that moment, both Joe and Keyshia knew that while the road ahead would be difficult, it was the only path worth walking. Together.

[fantasylandloser]

Cry For Help pt.2

Pairing: rafe cameron x reader

pt.1

Four Months Later

“Your hair is all gone.” It’s the first thing you say and you regret it immediately. It’s the first time you’d seen, or spoken to him since he left and that was the first thing you said. But Rafe grins amused by your disbelief. He looks happier, more like the Rafe from childhood than the last couple of years and you’re relieved.

“Yeah I was sick of it getting in my face.” He explains. You can’t help but continuously run your eyes over his face. He’s tanned and relaxed somewhat. He’s smiled more in the last two minutes than the last year and he seems so much more like himself. So much stronger. 

“Hmm” You acknowledge. You weren't really sure what you should be saying. You didn’t want to trigger him, so all the things you had been thinking about saying to him got lodged in your throat. 

When he texted you to come over you nearly broke every traffic law to get there. You knew he’d been home for two weeks, after hearing about his return all over the island but he had never contacted you before today. 

He looked almost content as the two of you walked in the front yard. He lets the silence trickle over the two of you for a minute before speaking again.

“You’re either really mad that I cut my hair, or you must have taken a vow of silence while I was gone.” He jokes. You laugh a little still not really knowing what you were allowed to say.

“You know you can just ask? I know you have a thousand questions.” He said in that tone that said he knew you better than you knew yourself. 

You tilt your head trying to get a better look at him. “How are you?” You ask gently and the words feel foreign because you used to always know how he was. Not anymore obviously. 

“I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.” He said thoughtfully. You’re rushed with relief at hearing this, grateful to whoever had a hand in that.

“That’s good.” You nod. “What was rehab like?” You both had completely stopped walking just looking at each other.

“It was bad at first. Withdrawals you know, but then it was better. And..” He paused for a second looking away from you like there was something he wasn’t sure if he should bring up. “And I got the help I needed for um.. the voices and stuff so that’s good.” He looked a little embarrassed to share that with you. Pink tinging his cheeks, but you were elated, and beyond proud of him.

“You did? I’m so proud of you.” The words come out of your mouth with such ease you didn’t even realize the way that affected Rafe. His family was pleased to have him back but nobody really talked about his time away. Or how different he was now. Nobody praised him and he didn’t really think he deserved it for something he did to himself, but for some reason you didn’t look at it like that. You thought this was something special. He saw that in your eyes as soon as you saw him.

Rafe let your words wash away not knowing how to respond, continuing to walk again and you picking up beside him. “I wanted to say thank you too.” You look at him in confusion, confused on what he was thanking you for.

“For telling my dad.” He elaborates. “I know that wasn’t easy for you. Probably the last thing you wanted since you hate him but uhh it means a lot that you know me well enough to know how to help me.” You’re flabbergasted at this. You love Rafe but never once in your friendship has he expressed gratitude toward you and you know whatever therapist he was talking to deserved a raise.

“Oh..” You’re hesitant before you respond, because you weren’t planning on bringing it up of course.

“I thought you hated me for that.” Rafe shakes his head at the thought. 

“Could never hate you, bug.” He tells you. Your face heats up slightly but you ignore it the best you can. 

“You ignored all my calls, and denied me visitation.” You pointed out. To which Rafe sighs.

“I was angry at you. For a while. But over time I stopped being angry at you and more angry at myself, angry at my dad, at the situation and I realized I do have a lot I could be mad at, and even hate but never you. So thank you for saving me.” 

You’re hugging him before you even realize it. “That’s what best friends are for.”

[lbulldesigns]

Group Chat between Vi, Mylo, Claggor, and Ekko.

VistandsforVictory has created Chat titled "Pow Patrol"

LadyKiller: Pow Patrol? Seriously, Vi?

VistandsforVictory: Yep. We need to talk about this. Powder is trapped in Demacia, and we're all planning a party instead of rescuing her.

BotanyNerd: It's a charity event, not a party. And there's not much we can do in regards to Powder Vi, Demacia is in full lockdown it's near impossible for foreign dignitaries to enter the country, let alone a bunch of nobodies.

LadyKiller: Speak for yourself. I'm going places.

TheBoiSaviour: So you finally decided what your major is going to be?

LadyKiller: 🖕

BotanyNerd: You know the rules, Ekko.

TheBoiSaviour: Sorry.

VistandsforVictory: CAN WE STAY ON TRACK PLEASE?!

BotanyNerd: Okay Vi, say we hop on the first boat or airship to Demacia to ride to Pow Pows rescue. What's the plan gonna be?

VistandsforVictory: We find our sister and bring her home.

LadyKiller: Sounds straight forward enough.

BotanyNerd: Where do we begin looking? Where would we, foreigners who have never visited the country before, start looking that the Demacian local law enforcement haven't?

TheBoiSaviour: There's also the whole "kidnapped royalty" to factor in, we don't know if in our search to find Pow we'd unwittingly draw the people she's staying out of sight of to her. And given Demacia's arrest first policy, I don't think she'd be given a fair trial before being sentenced.

LadyKiller: Also, Silco is handling finding her. He will keep us updated.

VistandsforVictory: Oh, right. Because he's done a fine job finding her and bringing her home so far.

TheBoiSaviour: He can't exactly hog tie her and bring her back Vi. That would be considered kidnapping. Also, Powder would be pissed.

VistandsforVictory: But safe.

BotanyNerd: Vi your not going to Demacia. One, Demacia is on lockdown, and their arresting anyone and everyone they consider suspicious or dangerous. Two, if your search to rescue Pow results in both of you being arrested, there would be little we could do to get you back and then we would all be pulling our hair out worrying about the two of you. And three, Dad really needs us here right now helping him with the pub, the event, and Isha.

VistandsforVictory: Don't tell me what you do! And the kid has nothing to do with any of this.

BotanyNerd: At some point Vi, you're going to have to actually acknowledge Isha's existence. She's our little sister.

VistandsforVictory: Powder's our little sister too!

LadyKiller: Vi have you been drinking?

VistandsforVictory: NO!!!

LadyKiller: Had to ask, because your making FUCK ALL SENSE!!

TheBoiSaviour: Okay, okay. Stop! This is getting out of hand. Mylo, you mean well but you really need to learn tact man. Vi, you need to understand that Isha isn't replacing Pow and Pow wouldn't view her as a replacement. I really think you need to speak to your therapist about this. Also I really, really don't think Pow would appreciate you running to her rescue.

BotanyNerd: That's it I'm bringing in Silco and Dad.

VistandsforVictory: Wait!!!

BotanyNerd invited TheEyeofZaun and WolfDaddy

WolfDaddy: Hello

LadyKiller: Why is your username WolfDaddy?

WolfDaddy: Powder made my profile for me, she said that it was factually correct whilst being anonymous. Now what's going on? Is this about Powder?

@lullabyes22-blog

[chambergambit]

ok so i first reblogged this with a tag saying #oh god this is literally the session i just got out of like 2 minutes ago bc, yeah, my therapist was telling me how smart and capable i am and i was having emotions about it.

but then i looked through the notes and saw people saying a lot of shit that amounts to "yeah therapy is totally useless."

if you think this, you aren't getting the right therapy. if your therapist can't handle your diagnosis, you gotta find someone who specializes in it. ask for a referral. (yes I now, expense and accessibility are issues, but you still gotta try).

if you feel like your therapist is ignoring important issues, fucking talk to them about it. you can critique your therapist! you can tell them you're not happy with your work! you can tell them what you want to focus on!!!

"this subject is really important to me, and it seems like whenever I bring it up, you won't engage."

"when you give me praise for xyz, i feel like the problem at hand is being ignored for something irrelevant."

"i need you to focus on what i'm saying, not how i say it."

you can even challenge them directly

"how is that relevant to the issue?"

"what experience do you have in this subject?"

"what you're saying about this issue is very different from my personal experience it."

"that is not the subject at hand, this is."

"i disagree with that statement because of x y and z."

YOU ARE JUST AS RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT HAPPENS IN YOUR THERAPY SESSIONS AS YOUR THERAPIST.

why was i having emotions about my own therapist telling me how smart and capable i am? because i often think i'm not smart and capable in any way that really matters, and it's really hard for me to hear otherwise.

and you know what? i'm gonna talk to my therapist about it.

Why does every therapist tell me that I’m so bright and confident and articulate, can you please help me deal with the gaping hole in my chest

[riongeee]

I lowk want to make a Sebek time travel fix-it fic but I don't know what to do with it :'^( Do you have any specific troupes/scenarios you would like to see?

Dhdidifjfjdjdj

Okay so, in this situation it's very dependant on where he time travels from. See most peoples immediate assumption would be after an overblot went wrong and he died or something or after the overblots in general.

But imagine this, things do go wrong in Malleus' or Grimms overblot, I'm thinking Yuu dies, maybe the first years. Regardless, Sebek doesn't. He lives on with the regrets of what he could have done differently and becomes a jaded old man. His relationship with Malleus is never the same, he just can't look at him the same way.

So when he finally passes on and wakes up as his younger self, he's: old, jaded and almost reminiscent of Baul-Sebek, not the loud Sebek of the past. Just think about it.

On the flip side, if you wanted to take the other approach of him going back while he's still young, it has so much angst potential. Because all the events will be fresh in his mind and he just can't quite look at anyone without getting sick.

If it's a young enough time travel (before Nrc) he stops hanging out with Silver and throws himself into training. Or he begins to hang out with Silver more but almost like a bodyguard, trying to see where he can change the future.

As for other people, like the first years, I'd just like to say. Imagine being friends with someone and then suddenly they don't know you, have no recollection of the memories you've made, the conversations you've had. It would sting.

For the overblot gang, it would be difficult, because Sebek want them to avoid overblot but the Riddle before overblot is so strict and how would he even go about talking to Leona or Jamil??? (Sebek taking over Yuus job as unpaid therapist arc?(making friends with the upper years and becoming their honorary sibling arc??? Idk just some food for thought))

Something else interesting to consider is whether Sebek would stay in the same dorm. Rook changed dorms after first year after all, what's to say that a Sebek that has gone through so much wouldn't change too(what potential dorm, I'll leave for you to think about).

Anyways this is just some ideas to play around with, main point is that you should definitely write the fic😼😼😼

Sebek needs more fics dedicated to him, he's not appreciated enough :'(

Dkjddjdjdj, anyways excited to see what you do with these (you don't have to use any of these just some fun ideas that have been swimming in my head, but I hope you like em<3)

[cads-the-cat]

I dreamt about attenting the ST rituals in November last night and it was interesting, to says the least. I don't remember everything, but there's the highlights i do remember

Vessel spoke (but i don't remember what he said or how he sounded)

iii played a trumpet and there was a group of people playing tuba (I DON'T EVEN KNOW FOR WHICH SONG BECAUSE NONE OF THEM HAVE ANY OF THOSE INSTRUMENTS but they literally just walked across stage liek a marching band followed by iii with his stupid trumpet)

They debuted Distraction live (which is a long time wish of mine) but it wasn't Vessel singing. It was a woman but not one of Espera. Who was the singer? I have 0 clue

Vessel was just walking through the crowd along the sides

Oh how could i forget the fact that Vessel covererd a German song. In German. I don't know if he can speak German. He did have an accent though but he still managed quite well

And last but not least, there were interludes. Somehow, Star Wars got mixed up in it and it literally ended with Darth Vaders iconic breathing. What was said and why Darth Vader was there i don't remember but i do remember feeling impressed in the dream that ST got the rights to use that sound

[i-just-look-at-pictures]

'The confession is so casual that it takes her a while to understand the severity of what he says.

'I did it on purpose, you know.' He murmurs, with a huff of laughter.

'Did what?' She asks, smiling at the mother playing with her two daughters in the sand as they pass.

'That first time.'

She frowns. 'What are you talking about?' 

'Remember?' He asks. 'When I... finished.' She stops then, dead in her tracks and he guffaws, elbowing her affectionately. 'Come on Goody, a man does what he has to! It worked out OK, didn't it?' But still she does not understand, he laughs again. 'How can someone so beautiful be so damn stupid? After a year of marriage you still don't know how it works?'

Clearly not. She needs him to clarify because it cannot be what she is interpreting it to be.

'I wanted to marry you.' He says, grinning like he is proud of it. 'I knew I wanted you to be my wife. So I thought, why wait? You hopped right on into bed it just seemed the right timing.' He sighs, wistful about their fertility issues. 'If only we knew then, huh?'

She stays where she is stood, barefoot on the sand and her mind sinks to those panicked weeks at the start of their relationship, sinks to her late period.

'Are you serious?' She demands, voice catching. She feels sick.

He turns, surprised. 'What about?'

Their marriage ends on that beach, Grace realises, with hindsight. Because in that moment, something inside of her changes and she discerns the difference between love and loneliness, between passion and pain, between a man who is bad and a man who does bad things.'

Chapter 28, Thomas Shelby laughs in his sleep, at least he used to.

AKA - the chapter that actually broke my heart.

[sqrkyclean]

ok heres the first quarter of it

Dissociative amnesia.

That’s what his therapist had said. Dissociative amnesia. Something about complex ptsd and adaptive survival methods.

It had taken years for Timmy Turner to eventually agree to seeing a therapist at all. There had been a lot more stigma around the idea back in the day— that it was something only crazy people needed to do. And he wasn’t crazy, he just…

Dissociative amnesia. 

Derealization. 

Complex PTSD.

There were all these new buzzwords in his head. They were supposed to mean something, supposed to mean that there was hope for him to get better, to feel… different from the way the last twenty years had felt. 

“And how have the last twenty years felt, Tim?”

His therapist, a younger-than-him blonde woman, fresh out of college. She always liked using his name, and she always had this… oddly casual way about her. She was the fifth therapist he had tried talking to, and honestly, it was going better than it had gone with any of the quacks he had seen before her. 

“Like… It’s… y’know the feeling when you’re watching a movie, and you recognize an actor, but you can't remember his name? Like, you know you’ve seen the guy before, but you can’t put… words to it. And no matter how hard you try to focus, it feels like it keeps getting further away?”

He made illustrative hand gestures, unable to look her in the eye as he rambled. 

“I’m… familiar,” she nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”

“It’s kinda like that, but— but that’s what it feels like whenever I try to think about where my life is supposed to be going. What I’m supposed to be doing,” Tim gestured vaguely. “Like there’s this big piece of everything that I can’t quite…”

He sighed, leaning back on the sofa. As much as he liked her as a therapist, her office layout was awkward. She would sit at her desk with her back to the laptop placed on top of it, facing towards the sofa. It made everything feel… lopsided.

“That makes sense,” she nodded, resting her elbows on her knees as she leaned forward. “You went through a lot of traumatic stuff as a kid. A lot of the time, when we spend so long in survival mode, once we get out of those situations it feels like you either need to keep being in fight-or-flight, or you end up kind of… listless.”

“Listless,” Timmy nodded. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”

“Do you ever feel like… the opposite of that?” She tilted her head at him. “Like you know exactly what you want, and exactly how to get it.”

Timmy opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then it just… fizzled out. “I—... I don’t… know.”

“What did you do as a kid that made you feel better when you felt out of place? I know your parents weren’t really an option.”

He tried to remember. He really, honestly did. There was that almost-memory sensation again, and then it was like it was swallowed up into the darkest corner of his mind.

Whenever he thought about this stuff, his head always went kind of… echoey. 

The synapses just wouldn’t connect, like a cord had been severed. Like he was going to sneeze but his body wouldn’t let him. Like his vision wouldn’t adjust. 

The silence was deafening. The absence of the memories that should have been there felt larger than anything real that he had left. 

“I’d… hang out with my friends? But then something… happened. I don’t know. I stopped seeing them, stopped hanging out with them. I guess it happened around the time I started 5th grade… A couple new kids joined my class halfway through the semester and…”

No, that wasn’t right. Was it? 

“You don’t have to remember all the details,” his therapist assured him, giving him a genuinely sympathetic smile. “What about now? Do you have any friends you can hang out with that might be able to give you some ideas?”

—

Remy Buxaplenty was doing pretty well, all things considered. His parents passed away and left him… everything. And he hadn’t run the family name into the ground yet, so that was nice.

does anybody wanna read my work in progress fairly oddparents fanfiction. its G rated and gen and about timmy coping with his lost memory as a 35 year old in therapy.

[ourtalechara]

Remember that even if I am not currently acting obsessed with them, that does not mean I am not obsessed with them

[mollymarymarie]

When I read about the "great purge" of 2002 or 2012 (I wasn't on Tumblr or FF. net during this time, I was literally just EMAILING my fanfic out to my friends lol), it always blows my mind how they say so many fics were just... lost.

I get that some of those were "orphaned" fics where the author wasn't available anymore or wasn't going to bother uploading anywhere else. But. Otherwise. Like. what.

What do you mean you don't have backups of backups saved on illegally downloaded word processors. What do you mean you wrote the whole fic on a browser and didn't save it anywhere else. What do you mean.

[stephofromcabin12]

I saw this headcannon somewhere I forgot it’s somewhere on here but

Pollux breaking mirrors because he doesn’t want to look at castors face

:(

I see this headcanon and raise you:

He doesn’t because he wants to see his brother again, and this is the closest he gets to being with him.

Castor would not want him to hide away in grief. He’d be horrified at the idea of Pollux being unable to look himself in the eye.

Dionysus is tied to the afterlife in quite a few ways. There’s a distinct aspect of facing your own mortality tied to his revelry. You must celebrate because every day could be your last. If you haven’t experienced the highs and lows of human emotion, have you really lived?

If you travel into the underworld, facing the worst of the worst in terms of despair and loss and tragedy, but never crawl out to compare it to life, what’s the point of your suffering?

And if there is no point, then why stay there just for the sake of giving up hope.

Pollux wouldn’t stay that deep in grief. Maybe at first. But he’d circle around. Look at him in The Last Olympian. He’s the exact opposite of avoidant. He breaks his arm and offers to fight with the other. He’s not going to give up. He’s going to keep going, because that’s what Dionysus would do. That’s what Castor would have done.