#not your fault

[through-the-forests]

Mm- wa-water-

[EMERGENCY CONTACT. VITALS OF "OUTIS" UNSTABLE. SENDING COORDINATES.]

[Coordinates attached]

-@through-the-forests

[Des' eyes widened. He rushes to grab health and regen potions and throw them in his bag along with the bandages he already had.]

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-" [He rushes out the house to the coords.] "O-Outis??" [He calls, voice whimpering slightly.]

[theonlinevegan]

[profoundbondfanfic]

Not your Fault

Not your Fault by orphan_account Rating: Mature Word count: 43k

Castiel has been directed by some hand of his Father to be here. He knows this. He knows it would be wrong to leave. And he knows there is something here for him. But an Omega auction house isn't anyplace the Angel of the Lord would have expected himself to be. Especially kneeling in front of this bruised, battered, green-eyed Omega who is looking everywhere but him. But the hand of his Father continues to tug, to pull him in the direction of this strange, sad-looking Omega. . . Oh boy.

Of course there's a reason why Castiel felt that tug. He might be an angel, but he is certainly not impervious to human biology, nor to fate. However, while in most stories we find a sort of friendly Cas who is only eager to help, things are a bit different here, making things really interesting and adding that spike of angst to the story. But worry not, he is quick to realize the error of his ways, not allowing himself to be driven by his upbringing. The way Dean is portrayed in this story is so deep, so heavy that one can almost feel it. It's like his inner omega could sense there is more to Castiel (and I am not talking about the guy being an angel). It is driving Dean to do these things he wouldn't normally do and it makes one excited to see the outcome. The attention to some details is poetic, and so is the way their relationship slowly develops. Cas seems uncertain of what he is to do and how he is to act, and Dean I a bit confused, but still so wary of him while also feeling so drawn. Still, there are moments when Castiel relapses to what he's been taught and then there are moments when Dean regresses to his slave persona. It's not like someone just flipped a switch and they are trauma-free now, no. It's definitely a process. And while there is some background plot, and an amazing brother Lucifer in the mix, this story is centered on emotional and mental growth as well as overcoming one's fears and the confines that the society enforces. Lastly, I leave you with a quote from the story that impacted me the most. We all need a Castiel in our lives.

"You are a person, no matter what gender or species. You're special, just like everyone else in their own way." Dean's eyes filled with tears again. "I d-don't understand." Castiel smiled sadly. "You don't yet. But you will," he promised. "I'll show you."

[siya-sayani]

Okk lemme tell u people one thing... RAPE isn't the victim's fault... People have rape fantasies...they literally get pleasure by corrupting your body against your will.... So no... Your cleavage isn't the reason and your curves aren't provoking...and also some of u might go against me... Saying this is very rare... No.. it's not... The media never shows u the actual story so u never got to know... That's all.

[t4tskkism]

says concerning stuff

does not know how to reply to concern

[unwelcome-ozian]

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Not Your Fault (Arya to Eragon)

A part of the 2024 Modern Inheritance Whimsical Whumps of Winter prompt challenge! This is a mix of the prompt Nightmares (Eragon) and Not Your Fault (Arya to Eragon). Prompts are still open so feel free to submit a request via reply, dm, ask or reblog!

I tried my best but I don't think it's exactly what you were looking for @thearunadragon so I apologize in advance. You could look at this as a bit of a tie in to the previously established story far earlier in the timeline (as this story takes place in the weird and wild extended war area and the story I'm about to mention is immediately post-Brisingr) Collateral as it deals with some similar topics.

Anyways, on to it!

TW: Mentions of child death, civilian death in warzones, soft target deaths and general war trauma. ~~~ Eragon pries himself from his Waking Dreams, haunted by the specters of civilians lost in a recent battle where he was the leader. Unable to bring himself to tell Saphira of another guilt she does not fully understand, the young Rider finds himself aimlessly wandering the Varden's camp, followed by his Waking Dreams, until he comes upon Arya having her own moment alone on a cold night. ~~~

“Can I…” Movement in the corner of his vision stopped Eragon’s question dead. The little girl was still there, staring at him with wide, frozen eyes. 

“You said we were safe there!” Her voice wasn’t accusing. Shit, sometimes he preferred when they were aggressive, so he could push back and not feel so ashamed of it. But she– ‘Vivian.’ he remembered with a hollow pang, the screams of the child’s mother echoing through his skull –Vivian always sounded so small and terrified. Confused. “You said we were going to be okay!”

Eragon closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. The icy air stung his nose and crackled in his lungs. Even with the world shut out for a moment, he could still see the ghost of his Waking Dreams there. Off to the side still. Clutching at the gore soaked fabric of her woolen dress where shards of metal had shorn the cloth away to reveal destroyed flesh beneath. 

“Can I sit with you?”

Arya gave him one of her half quirked grins. “Thought we were past you having to ask.” With a sweep of her hand the woman cleared the thin layer of snow that had collected on the frozen ground beside her. “All yours.”

Eragon did his best to return the smile despite the child weeping in the corner of his eye. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.” 

They sat together in silence. At least, it was mostly silent. Even at night the sounds of the Varden’s camp continued, subdued by the decrease of alert inhabitants and muffled by the thin blanket of snow falling around the tents. 

And of course, it wasn’t silent for Eragon. Somehow Garrow had entered his Waking Dreams, admonishing the little girl for getting so messy, telling her in clipped tones that Eragon couldn’t be everywhere at once, so stop whining that he let her die. After all, he let his own uncle die, the man who raised him, so how–

“Who are you seeing?” 

Eragon jolted at Arya’s voice, his head snapping to locate the sound despite her proximity. The elf turned the page of the small book she had splayed open on the fingers of one hand, entirely nonchalant. When the Rider did not answer, she repeated her question. “Who are you seeing?”

The young man worked his mouth, trying to find words. How could she tell? “I’m not sure I understand your–”

“If I don’t get to lie to you about my shitshow nights, then you don’t get to lie to me about yours.” Marking her spot with a finger, Arya closed the book and turned her head to look him dead in the eye. Ah. Of course she could recognize it. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you.”

Eragon couldn’t tell if it was relief that rushed into his chest, or another wave of hurt. There he went, worrying the people around him again. 

He had so, so many people he could go to that would meet him with understanding and support. Brom, Glenwing, Roran, even Nasuada and Katrina had all comforted him in their own ways when he had confessed his troubles to them in confidence. Not to mention Saphira, his Partner of Heart and Mind, his everything, his other half! 

And yet somehow, sometimes, none of them completely understood. Even Saphira, who did all she could to give him comfort and clarity, did not always understand how he felt about the war. About the lives taken, intentionally or not. The others did, in their own way. Everyone experienced it differently after all. 

But this was Arya. Arya, who had joined the war at what was considered the elven equivalent of the age Eragon had found himself swept into the conflict. Who, at least from what he had learned, spent more nights awake than most grappling with her own feelings of how her actions affected those around her, and how to best take the weight off the shoulders of her comrades in arms. Duty and sense of right and wrong clashing with what needed to be done, making the choice and living with it. 

Maybe that was why he came to her, after all. Not Saphira, nor Brom, Glen, Roran. To her, the only other person who might truly, fully understand where this pain, this guilt, was coming from. 

His shaky breath out spawned a cloud of mist in the air before him. “I’ve been…having nightmares again.” 

“Visions?”

“No.” Eragon shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just…” He bit his tongue as Vivian’s crying reached a hysterical pitch. “The wolves. In my head again.” 

Arya did not respond with words. Instead, Eragon felt warmth hovering over the back of his hand and flicked his gaze down to find that the elf had hesitantly reached out to him. He gave her a tiny nod and her fingers settled over his, a point of contact for him to follow should he fall. 

“I keep thinking about the last mission. That town.” Vivian abruptly stopped crying at Arya’s touch. She vanished into the softly falling snow, Garrow following her, as Eragon finally shook off the final dregs of waking sleep with his continued speech. “I know…I know we did everything we could to get the civilians out of the way, but…” His voice caught suddenly. “The little girl. And all the others. So many of them died.”

“I can’t stop thinking that…” Eragon swallowed, the next words thick in his throat. A grim confession, an admittance of his guilt. “That she died, and the others died, because we were there.” The young man tightened his grip on his knees, fighting to contain the tears that welled up. “That fight wouldn’t have happened if we weren’t there. And it wouldn’t have gotten so out of control if Saphira and I weren’t there. It’s my fault.”

Arya did not answer immediately. The elf took a moment to properly mark the page she had held with her finger and set the book aside before she leaned her head against the rock at their backs. Eragon took no offense at her pause, having long ago come to understand that when Arya took her time it was out of sincere care for the subject at hand. 

She took a long, calming breath in before letting it steam out of her nose in twin clouds of vapor in the chilled air. 

“Your logic…” Arya began slowly. “Is not inherently wrong.” Eragon’s stomach sank. She must have caught his dropped expression, because the woman put her hand out in a gesture of calm. “Hold on. Let me finish. Your logic is not inherently wrong, but it only takes into account a single moment.”

Arya held her extended hand up and curled it into a fist, her thumb extended to the side. “Yes. That fight would not have happened if the Varden had not sent us there. However, the Varden would not have sent us there if the Broddring soldiers were not sent there to conscript all the men in that town for Galbatorix’s army.” She raised her pointer finger. “The need for more men to be conscripted to Galbatorix’s army would not have happened had the Varden not engaged the Empire in full scale war.” Another finger joined the others. “The Varden would not have engaged the Empire in full scale war had Galbatorix not sent the Urgals to Farthen Dûr to attack the resistance at its heart.” Again, another. 

“Eragon, I could go on and on and on.” Arya dropped her hand. “I can go back over a hundred years, to the day that Galbatorix and Jarnunvösk chose to enter the Spine knowing full well that it was Urgal territory and arrogantly considered themselves untouchable despite the known risks.” 

Eragon wiped his eyes. Even as the woman spoke, he felt the lump in his throat rising. “That’s true. But I still gave the orders that day. I…I’m the one who told the families to hide in that part of town, even though–”

“Eragon. Stop.” Rough palms settled on his cheeks, gently turned the young Rider to face her. Arya’s eyes shone in the darkness, flickers of familiar pain that Eragon was sure he would see had he found a mirror that night. “Enough. It was not your fault. This war, it is not your fault.” 

“But–”

“Shush.” Soft but commanding, Arya silenced him with a finger to his lips. “It is not your fault, and it is not Saphira’s fault, that you both were thrown into this war. This war was made by a man who never took time nor responsibility for his grief and instead decided to inflict it on the world. 

Every day, since the day I met you, I have seen you and Saphira take action.” She lifted his chin, swiped away a tear with her thumb. “And every time, I see you both consider the consequences in all that you do. You came into this war as children, forced into it without a choice in the matter, and you both have learned and grown so much despite your circumstances.” 

Eragon swallowed hard and tried to shake his head. Saphira, he would agree, had taken on her role like a fish to water, like…well, like a dragon to the skies. But him? The scruffy farm boy, the fool who had not only taken part in battles where hundreds of lives had been lost, but the imbecile who had cursed an innocent babe, had failed to save so many, had–

Arya’s voice took on a brittle tone for a brief moment. “Eragon, if you keep disagreeing with me right now while I’m trying to comfort you and explain this, I swear I’ll have Saphira relocate the cook tent’s viscera pile to your bedroll. Am I clear?” 

Oh, he did not doubt her in the slightest. He summoned his will to, at the very least, bite his tongue and nodded.

“Good. Now. I have met countless men and women three times your age and more, who hold the lives of their troops in their hands, and they did not even consider what could happen when they give their orders and make their choices. They didn’t even give time to the idea of thinking any of it over! But you and Saphira do.” 

Arya gave him a soft smile. “So I know. I know neither of you intend to hurt anyone you don’t have to. You try so hard to keep the civilians out of it. You set clear, hard boundaries and fight for them when they are tested or broken. But war…fuck, war hurts. It hurts everyone. And if you didn’t feel some guilt then I’d honestly be more worried about you than I constantly am!

“Eragon, it is not your fault that war did what war does. You and Saphira did everything in your power to try and keep those people safe. You stacked the deck in their favor and yet war decided to say ‘fuck you’ and snapped a cable in some shitty old Broddring artillery that shouldn’t have even been there and shouldn’t have been aimed into a town allied with its owners and sent a fucking cannonbomb into what happened to be the same area we, yes, we, agreed to shelter the civilians while we rooted out the soldiers.” 

Arya released her grip on his face and shifted her hands to his shoulders. “Eragon. It was not your fault.” She shook him gently. “Say it.”

“I–”

“Say. It. Don’t you call me a liar to my face. Say ‘War sucks. It’s not my fault.’”

Eragon dropped his gaze. “War sucks. Not my fault.”

“Say it again and maybe I’ll hear it this time.”

He breathed in. Breathed out. “War sucks. It’s not my fault.”

“One more time and maybe I’ll believe you.”

That quirked a tiny smile at the edges of his lips. Hell. He was starting to believe it himself. “War sucks. It’s not my fault.”

The elf pulled him closer after the words left his mouth and, in one of the favorite little gestures they shared, pressed their foreheads together. No words were spoken, just a thread of relief that passed between them in the contact. His relief at the confirmation of his lack of guilt, and hers at his understanding of what she tried to convey.

And then Arya drew back and settled against the rock again, shoulders squared. The posture told the Rider multitudes. Eragon was with her, and he needed help. Arya was protecting him, alert, watchful, that vigilance colored with warm care towards her friend. Not quite On Duty, but happily taking him on to keep his demons, real or imagined, at bay. 

He couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

Eragon sniffed one final time and rubbed away the last traces of tears on his face. He already knew her answer from the way she had shifted, but he always felt the need to ask. "Can...Can I stay here? I don't want to worry Saphira. She'd understand better if she finds you watching me."

"You can stay, but only if you get in here. I’m fucking freezing." Never taking her eyes off the tents around them, Arya lifted her arm so that her cloak opened to him, gathered warmth spilling out into the chill night. "Come on."

The easy smile she gave him was all he needed in that vulnerable moment. Eragon scooted over and let the elf drape her arm over his shoulders and rearrange the warm fabric so that it wrapped around them both. A gentle squeeze had him leaning into her side. He tucked his legs up to where he had pulled his arms and fists under his chin, and just like that...Eragon found himself being cuddled.

Arya rubbed his far shoulder with a quiet sigh that ghosted puffs of mist into the air. "Damn, you've definitely got that elven blood going. You're warmer than you used to be." With a deft flick of her wrist the elf opened her book to the page she had marked. "Now get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere." It was silent for a handful of seconds after Eragon closed his eyes. “...You’re going to keep me safe if Saphira gets jealous of this, right? This is usually her move.”

Eragon let a sleepy smile grace his lips. “I’ll try my best, but no promises.”

“Fantastic. Go to sleep, dork.”

[creatingnikki]

notes to self: validation no one else can provide during an ugly break up edition

You are no oracle. There is no way you could have guessed the kind of person he was. You wanted to give him a fair chance and not see him through the lens of your past hurtful experiences or people who had hurt, wronged, and betrayed you. And you did exactly that.

The moment it was clear to you that he is not right for you, you decided to call it off and respectfully communicated that to him. So, you cannot hate yourself for not knowing any better or ignoring the red flags, because you didn't. You took a few days to assess them and then once you were clear on what colour they were for you, you decided to say goodbye.

Do not blame yourself for the shitty person he ended up revealing himself to be and the vicious things he chose to say. How could have you known? You are not walking this earth being so very sus of everyone, assuming everyone is an ass hole until otherwise proven despite everything you have been through. That's brave, that's soft, that's precious. Do not blame yourself.

You are no emotional fool who does not know how to protect your heart. Maybe when you were younger but definitely not now. The very fact that you chose to call things off as early as you did is proof enough. Please don't hate yourself or think that you are stupid.

Yes, words are your weakness. You fall in love with words. How can you not, my dear writer. You have the heart of a poet. You mean everything you say. You are impressed by smart word plays and fall for things that sound sincere. Sure, now at 27, you know others are not like you. You know that people just say things they don't mean as a means to an end. But what can you do? You are impressed, amused, and smitten by words. What can you do about that other than wait and see if their actions back those words up? And time, my dear child, is the only way to do that.

And I know you know that. And I know you kept reminding yourself and him of that. But next time? Make it easier for yourself and don't try to explain these things to the other person. They do not need to know how your mind works or what your pain points are. You need to let them be who they are, communicate the way they communicate, act the way they act and then decide if that's something that's attractive to you, something that feels good and safe and true. Communication is key but that does not have to mean that the two of you give each other a user manual to each other. It doesn't work that way; it should not.

Wanting to be comforted by your friends and kind words in a moment like this is not something to feel ashamed about. Everyone needs reassurance, everyone needs validation even though objectively we all know things already. Yes, you know that you are not the things he called you in a fit of anger. And? And it's completely natural to still want those who know you to spell that very fact that for you.

Where does all this shame and guilt come from? It's fine, you don't need to answer that now. Don't worry about any of that. Just remember, there was nothing differently you could have done here. This was not your fault. There is no need to give your inner critic the spotlight and let her go on an angsty monologue for days at an end. You simply came across a shitty human. There's no need to internalize that even if it seems to be a pattern.

[call-me-a-simp]

Heal My Wounds

Not Your Fault (part 19)

Rhea Ripley x Reader / Damian Priest x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship, selfharm, eating disorder

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

You're sitting in the back of the car between Damian and Rhea. Finn is driving and Dom is scrolling through his phone looking for music.

The two next to you both have a hand on either of your thighs, you kind of enjoy that they're all so protective of you but something is off.

Why is Damian acting so strange lately? We've seen each other quite often due to matches or just hanging out with the gang... Is there a chance he might have feeling for me? Nah, he can't, he knows I'm with Demi.

You're in your thoughts again as Finn decides to break the silence. "Hey y/n, Rhea, the night is still pretty young we could watch some movies or so at your's"

"Ye sounds good.." Rhea looks out of the window and doesn't seem like she even listened.

"Rhea?" you carefully ask. She hums but doesn't look at you. "What is it?" you whisper and lean a little forward in hopes to catch a look at her.

She shakes her head and huffs, "nothing" she breathes out. You decide to not bother her anymore are she clearly didn't want to talk about it now.

"Guys I think we should meet another time. I could really use some alone time after what happened" you say and Finn nods. Damian's grip on your thigh tightens just a little, but enough for you to notice.

Why does he do that? What's his problem with leaving me alone? I'm safe with Rhea, he should know that.

You put your hand over his and look him in the eyes. "It's okay Damian, I'm safe now" you calm him down with a reassuring smile. He slightly smiles back and nods.

"I know, It's just that, if anything happens I'm gonna blame myself for not protecting you good enough"

He really does have feelings. Or am i just confused and that' s how good friends act?

You decide not to ask him about it, at least not now. Finn stops in front of your shared apartment and you and Rhea get out.

Damian grabs your wrist and holds you back for a moment. "Call me if you need anything" he says with a serious expression.

You smile and nod and follow Rhea to the door. The boys wait until the door shuts close behind you before continuing do drive to their homes.

Rhea doesn't look back, she just let's her bag and jacket fall onto the floor and makes her way to the bedroom. You sigh, pick up her stuff and hang it up.

As you enter your bedroom you see her lying on the bed, facing away from you, her legs are drawn to her chest. You walk up to her and lay down behind her.

"Hey baby" you whisper and put an arm around her waist spooning her. "It wasn't your fault, you know that" you add and kiss her neck.

"But I could have avoided it if I would have just kept my promise and protected you" she mutters. "But you decided to have fun and that's okay, I could have looked after myself and stayed closer to the boys" you try to soothe her.

"So it's your fault now or what?" she snaps at you. You back off, slightly shocked at her sudden anger at you. "I- sorry babe I didn't mean it" she sighs and turns to lay on her back.

She holds her arms open for you to snuggle up to her and holds you close. You hear her heart beating in her chest, it's always calming you down no matter what.

"There are many ifs you know. Whatever you do, there will always be an if. You couldn't have changed the situation, he would've done it anyway, simply because he knows me and already liked me back in the days with my ex" you explain to her and she hums.

You straighten up a bit and rest on your elbow. You look in her eyes and can't help but smile. She cups your cheek and pulls you down into a kiss. "I love you" she whispers against your lips.

"I love you too, but you really gotta stop blaming yourself all the time" you chuckle, making her pout a little.

"What about I grab us something to eat and you pick a movie hm?" "Okay" she smiles and kisses you again. "But I can't promise we're going to have time to watch the movie" she smirks.

"God you needy little whore" you lovingly tease her. "What?!" she acts shocked. "You know how long I've waited" she pouts. "Yeah, soooo long" you mock her and get up to get the food. You hear her chuckle a little as you make your way to the kitchen.

---------------------------------------------------

Part 19 :)

I might not be able to post on Tuesday so don't be mad. I will try to pre-write a part until then though

Taglist:@babybatlover @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thatonepansexual2000

[bobbie-robron]

Not your fault.

Wild Blue Yonder

[kairoot]

NOT YOUR FAULT: you couldn’t wait?!

masterlist.

y/n turned off her phone, setting it to the side. she sighed, getting up out of her bed to head to the kitchen.

as she was coming out of the dorm’s hallway, she saw jay walking through the door. it looked as if he was rubbing something away from his lips, his hair messy and seemed like someone had touched it.

y/n stopped in her tracks, staring at his appearance. it only took her a few minutes to piece things together.

“hey, love-“

“jay, are you kidding me right now?” her voice was way above a whisper, causing jay to shush her loudness at an hour such as 10 pm when everyone would be sleeping. she shook off his attempt at quieting her, continuing to question him.

“no, it’s-“

“it’s what? lipstick on your face and lips?” she answered, matter-of-factly. by now, some of the members had opened their door to see the scene. all of them rubbing their eyes and shielding their gaze from the light.

sunghoon leaned on the frame of his door, studying jay‘s appearance like everyone else. his jaw clenched, as he walked up next to y/n.

“jay, what the f-, man?” sunghoon began to shove jay, causing heeseung and jake to come forward to pull sunghoon back by his arms. jay had a guilty expression on his face as everyone stared at him now.

“y/n, i-“ he sighed.

“i only went out with her because i didn’t think you actually liked me.”

y/n threw her hands up, scoffing at jay’s excuse. she couldn’t even reply properly. this was the dumbest thing she’d heard all night.

“i didn’t actually like you? once again, jay, are you serious? i literally went over top of my brother for you! like, i actually felt like he hated me!” she exclaimed, recalling the way sunghoon had ignore her existence for the past 2 weeks. jay and sunghoon looked down slightly, both feeling guilty.

“you like, actually couldn’t wait? just so we could take things slow?”

everything was still and silent for a few seconds before y/n decided that she’d had enough.

“this is too much I-“ she ran both of her hands down her face, chuckling a bit.

“i’m going to bed.”

—

milan’s note: this kinda sucks booty but whatever.

taglist: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura (message or comment to be added)

[summerishereee]

“If they wanted to do, they would”

But would I let them? They would be there in a heartbeat, but would I even call them? Do I have the courage to be vulnerable enough to express my feelings?

“Where were they when you were at your worst?”

Did I make it look like I was at my worst? Were they supposed to have magical powers and know I was at my worst? How could they know if I didn’t tell them? How would they know if I don’t tell them about it? This isn’t a story where they can pick up on my silence— it’s real life, not a fictional world where I’m using the ‘show, not tell’ method.

“It’s not their fault, it’s mine”

It’s not their fault, it’s mine. They’d run to me in the blink of an eye if I told them I needed them. But I did not. I thought I was…I was…strong. Or perhaps it was embarrassing to admit it.

I was a teenager; I didn’t have to go through that. But they were teenagers too—how were they supposed to know what I was going through?

I could’ve. Should’ve. Said. Something. But…I didn’t.

Summer, 12th November, 2024 [11:40 pm]

[thejourneyofhealing]

[writerighthere]

Happiness is key, you have the control

[slightlyaggressiveaffirmations]

YOIR CIRCADIAN RHYTHM DISORDER IS NOT YOUR FUCKING FAULT!!!

IT’S NOT LIKE YOU ASKED FOR THIS!!! (WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU?!) IT IS WHAT IT IS, AND YOU ARE DOING YOUR FUCKING BEST WITH THE HAND YOU’VE BEEN DEALT!!!

(alternatively - if you’re unaware that circadian rhythm disorders are a whole thing, and this might be you, now you know you can look into that)

[treasuresdocuseries]

Dear Survivors, Take It Easy.

You think this was your fault.

You and your foolish heart.

You HAD to believe them. You HAD to trust them. You HAD to let them in... and then they did it. They HURT you. Your mind, your heart, your body...everywhere meant to be safe.

Maybe you'd taken a beating before...so maybe you should have known better...but it's harder for the heart to see through swollen eyes. Harder for the body to resist under a tortured mind. Harder for the mind to know with a bleeding heart. Harder to know who stands at the other end of that...RELIEF.

They held ice to the bruises, wrapped your shivering bones, filled an empty belly, bandaged the broken promises, kindled a hope in your chest...What else could love have been?

It wasn't your fault to wish for goodness.

You and your hurting heart.

To believe someone...

To trust someone...

To let them in...

Your brave heart wishing for what it's scarcely had, can barely remember, yet knows it deserves...is the WILL TO LIVE itself.