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oftidheard · 5 months

Note

o my days im on my knees pls do a part two of ur recent coriolanus fic (the one he chose to take the punishment instead of her) 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

so happy to hear people enjoyed it enough to want more ♡ this is a part two to burn me twice and the blame walks for you

you thought it'd be nice to hold the ice i can't see coriolanus snow x reader ↳ 2.4k ↳ angst with a happy? ending ↳ feminine

that night — per coriolanus's instruction — you'd pulled yourself together enough to slip through crowds with an inconspicuous politeness, and made your way home.

he hadn't joined you like he usually did, and instead parted from you in that very hallway outside heavensbee hall. he didn't have to utter a word for you to recognise the calculated look in his eyes and clenched jaw; he had a plan.

so you'd said your goodbyes, and felt his gaze follow you until you were out of sight, but onwards still felt that protective aura he'd built up around you — as if on your cold walk home, he was still there to keep you safe.

from the second your hand had been dropped from coriolanus's, to the moment you'd crossed the threshold to your lavish bedroom, it had all been a mist. you'd received congratulations from some classmates, and bitter glares from others, but they'd all blurred together — just as your quick feet hitting the pavement had rushed so quickly, that when your body finally landed atop your neatly set bed, your head still span.

everything had felt light, like the only things stopping you from simply floating away were the roof above your head and your unbreakable anchor to your boyfriend — wherever he was, whatever he was doing now.

when you'd come down from the dissociated thump in your head clouding behind your eyes, you'd found yourself sat at your windowsill.

your gaze then met the ball of soft light rising in the sky, eyes following the moon as she grew brighter, as she welcomed her night-time kingdom — and you, her subject.

you don't remember if it comforted you — staring up at the fixture of the sky, the objectively serene picture something one might guess to be the calmest thing you could ever find — but you remember pretending coriolanus might be watching the moon too, likewise hoping you to be okay just as you did for him; so that was, perhaps, what kept you going.

but at the very least, you don't remember hanging on for dear life and grasping for empty gasps as you'd fallen asleep.

petty theft gets you hung in the districts — the fact played on repeat in your tired head; you didn't want to even think about what sort of noose would await you for disrespecting the capitol's prestigious games — so you tried to trick yourself into dreaming of a picnic with your boyfriend.

the moon — ever kind — had lulled you to slumber, and granted you a dreamless sleep, momentarily letting you forget the ruin your life would face come morning.

now you've awoken, you can feel where the opaque glue has been piped between your shattered pieces; all in a fragile attempt to keep you together. the shards of yesterday's breakage prick at your sore neck and constrict the beating of your heart, flashes of last night's emotions stabbing you relentlessly.

it feels surreal, knowing at the end of it all, you still have to return to the academy today for what would be — if it weren't for dean highbottom and what he shouldn't know — an entirely regular school day; a disconcerting departure from the chaos of recent that had dug itself a burrow in your life and started to feel like your new norm.

but it isn't, and you're a distinguished young woman who needs to gratefully embrace her education, and you cannot return as a role model for future mentors with tear-stained cheeks and yesterday's mussed uniform. so you shakily rise from your curled up position by the still opened window, and clean yourself up as best you can with trembling hands spurred on by unsteady breaths.

the wind whips at you the entire walk to the academy, and you hope it's strong enough to wash away any semblance of the broken girl you'd caught a glimpse of in the mirror just before departing — and you think, if that requires the ice-cold breeze knocking you over with such a force that each and every shard of you falls apart into disrepair; you'd let it happen.

but as your feet drag you to your destination you are not granted the reprieve of irreversibly breaking; you are simply torn, and it hurts so much worse.

your shoes scuff the path, and the rips deep inside you that make the walk laborious are invisible to the outside world. your lips upturn when you pass a neighbour, but your smile is dampened just enough that they would notice just how unconvincing it is if you weren't set in motion, and already gone down the street.

you are in disarray, you are fraying at the edges that have been caressed by fire. your fingertips are singed by the very items that saved you, and the smoke of the flames that bit you back draws your breaths heavy.

you try to breathe through it, and keep your head high enough that no one wonders why you look so miserable, but low enough that eyes lamenting your arrogance after just one win don't follow you.

embers climb up your legs and sting your skin. they leave a path of flickering — slowing fading out — scraps of coal behind you, digging your heavy footsteps deep into the path so everyone knows where you are to mock and gawk at.

the sharp heat grows, reaching higher and higher until your legs wobble from the stress and the heat wraps around you, all to desperately grasp at the tip of your fingers.

a prick, like a needle — on the tip of the same fingers that had passed lucy gray her means to win, and a painful spark grows not too dissimilar to the odd shock followed by heat you'd felt when those same fingertips had brushed against her own.

the spark doesn't light the rest of you on fire, but rather runs through vein and bone, travelling through your body so overwhelmed and ready to crumble you down.

it runs up your spine, it reminds you that your time perhaps even in the capitol itself is running out, and you hope that perhaps if the spark is finally set alight in the centre of your skull that it might shrivel nerve endings and pain receptors, until it won't hurt to soon hear your life is over.

you feel the reprieve running up your neck joined by a tear down your cheek, but just as the fire is about to swallow you whole — for better, you'd hoped, but more than certainly for worse no matter whether you realise that — its force is snuffed.

the tear — your first of the day, salty water only just thawed from the numbness that had frozen in your heart over the cold night — that had just escaped your eye, crystalises.

the sudden change surrounds you, you are doused with a bucket of freezing cold water and shoved into an existence where the warm colours of the word that had just been swallowed by licks of flames and swift heartbeats are stripped away.

now, that all is quelled, and you find yourself — at the foot of the steps to the academy — in a dim world you'd glimpsed in the company of the moon just last night. and yet, this one feels even heavier.

you glance around, and with every figure your eyes glaze over, there is an unfathomable solemness that not even the death of the ring twins had evoked over the entire student body.

you feel a terror — for your life, for coryo's life — but it feels out of place in this collective sadness, in this community where you are left out of the know; it makes you feel like everyone else also knows that you do not fit into whatever this is.

your feet fly up the pristine steps with urgency, as if at the top you might face a place to hide away, and not the inevitable doubled population of unusually unsmiling students.

you gasp when — while the sight of the large imposing doors of the academy come into view — you also catch sight of the one person you've wanted to see more than anything since the moment you were separated; coriolanus.

he stands facing you, presumably in conversation with io jasper — whose back is in turn turned to you — but when his gaze catches yours, he swiftly ends the interaction, and is quick to approach you.

his strides are steady and reach you in the matter of a couple of seconds — a contrast to your trembling steps, which may well serve as a rather accurate representation of your relationship — and his hands don't hesitate to find your shoulders with a secure grip.

your eyes dart side-to-side — as if looking for any onlookers which you are so certain must be watching your every breath — and after your search, you still can't bring them to settle assuredly on coriolanus's own as you anxiously whisper.

"what's going on?"

all you receive is a stony expression, but which precedes one hand dropping to hold your wrist and the other rising to hold the back of your neck; both of which gently tug you closer to him.

"everyone's staring," you sputter in a marginally quieter whisper than before, "i don't—"

he shushes you, a finger on the back of your neck begins to trace calming circles, and his hand on your wrist tightens slightly.

"breathe," he instructs, so you try.

the breath is unreliable and you don't feel any more better than before the air had rushed into your lips, but coriolanus demonstrates himself taking several deep breaths to encourage yourself to continue trying.

slowly, the colours a well-adjusted and perfectly calm girl might observe at her place of education squeeze in on the edges of your vision, and with coriolanus pulling you even closer to him — his every breath now blowing across your cheek — you start to feel calmer.

he raises an eyebrow to ask if you're better, and you — however hesitantly — nod.

with another unconvinced but digressing once-over, one hand leaves your neck and the other slips up to now link your arm with his.

your legs don't feel like they might suddenly fall out from beneath you anymore, and you find yourself falling into step with coriolanus's own headed towards the doors without much struggle.

he easily glides you through the crowds, and you begin to feel uneasy once more at the harrowingly uncharacteristic silence that envelops the foyer.

you lean towards coryo with a stuttered whisper, "what about—" dean highbottom, "won't he—"

you're tugged closer again, with another "breathe" whispered into your ear, just as you join a specific group of your classmates; who all appear to be in different levels of melancholy.

festus creed turns around and makes room — standing to your left — for yourself and coriolanus to join the group, and while he doesn't look particularly distraught, he appears the most emotionally affected of the group.

lysistrata vickers stands directly in front of you with a respectfully plain expression, though she offers you a kind, but oddly still sad smile in greeting. though it serves only to scare you into overthinking — does she know? do they all know?

coriolanus's has unlinked your arms, and now holds your hand. breath.

to lysistrata's right, stands persephone price, with the most seemingly unaffected disposition of the group.

feeling like a fish out of water slowly asphyxiating, you glance to your boyfriend, and note his stony expression has grown to make room for a hint of something similar to the others' sombre looks.

hopelessly, your eyes flicker back to lysistrata — the person who you'd say is next on your list of people you trust here, even if there's still a large blank gap between her name and coriolanus's — and she only gives you a pitiful look that says 'i understand'.

but she can't, and you don't either, and you find yourself in the unlikely situation of being grateful for persephone talking to you unprompted.

"didn't you hear?" she gives a small raise of her eyebrows.

your frown, and your evident confusion is enough of an answer itself.

just as persephone's lips pop open again, coriolanus's hand anticipatorily squeezes yours.

"dean highbottom died."

you're tossed like a ragdoll in an echoing bubble of numbness.

persephone predictably prattles on, "it's no surprise he drank himself to death," but her words continue to grow less and less coherent to you, before she utters, "i mean, that flask he..." and your brain completely silences her to join as just another buzz in the fuzziness that constricts you.

your eyes must glaze, your mouth must be agape, you must have gone slick with sweat and started all but shivering — because the one new feeling you register, is a hand that can't be coryo's holding yours tenderly.

you want to hold it back — if your own weren't so weak that you're sure you can't even pick up a pencil — if only to reach for that anchor.

but as your fingers graze pathetically, coryo's hand that still keeps hold of your other, compresses. the force is overwhelming, and he must be squeezing your hand to limpness; but above the instinctual alarm going off in your head at circulation loss, you know why he's doing this.

he's grounding you, forcing you to concentrate on something physical, something strong.

though he's always gotten mixed results when he attempts this — some days it succesfully draws you back in, some tries it causes you to panic, and sometimes even faint with a light head and racing heart — but you try to slow your breathing, and convince yourself that it's helping.

a thumb rubbing across your pulse-point on your wrist joins coriolanus's death grip, and it's almost like a pinch that wakes you from a nightmare.

as your blurry eyes focus back in on a reality that is not in fact a dark bubble of nothingness, you realise your other hand is held by lysistrata.

once she notices your slow descent from fright, she gives you a sympathetic smile, and lets go.

finally, you look to persephone with a breathless reply to the news.

"that's horrible."

she glances around the room, then shrugs — shoulders weightless with the freedom of not knowing how it felt for dean highbottom to have held your fate atop his, the lightness of having the only thing that haunts her past being a failure, instead of a secret that could kill.

which now, you dare to dream, might not even be a threat to you anymore.

she dismisses, "i suppose so, but he wasn't exactly a model citizen," and casually changes the subject to the upcoming academic year.

coriolanus's thumb still runs over your wrist, and you can't tell if with the dean's threats all but inconsequential now, you may finally take a breath of fresh air — or if this signifies the last time you ever will.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg x reader #❤︎ — the mockingjay sings

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ma1dita · 7 months

Text

my love, mine, all mine

based on this drabble : mean!remus

words: 2.8k

summary: Sometimes is not enough for someone who loves Remus this much.

warnings: mean!remus x fem!reader !!!! mentions of sex; much angst they both cry, a lot of kisses & a very open ending, situationship blues, remus is a self-deprecating piece of shit!!

a/n: thank you for the request anon! i watched the eras tour movie and thought of mean!remus and reader during ‘tolerate it’.... sooo don’t blame me for what you’re about to read. title is from a song by mitski <3 always down to flesh out mean!remus and lovely!reader more if yall want--feel free to send in more requests and comments <3

(posted & edited: 10/15/23)

—

Sometimes he lets you down easy. You’ve memorized his face by now, every minuscule detail and the way it hardens when he makes up his mind. Remus is very deep set in his ways, a creature of habit forced by the resolution of hiding in the nighttime, waiting for the darkness within himself to find him under the light of the full moon. You know the whisper of a smile that dances across his face when he sees you, the way a scar kisses his brow when you surprise him, the mechanical tightness of his jaw when he dissociates himself from your embrace.

There’s a particular way his eyes drop that resembles falling snow and it tells you that he’s about to let you down again, buried under him and his excuses. It’s heavy. You wonder how someone so gentle, so fragile can leave you feeling cold, but you bare yourself to him anyway, trudging through the hope that whatever is between you can be more than sometimes. You know him intimately, wholeheartedly. But does he know you? Sometimes is the keyword here, and yet it is tiring, all of the time.

Your breaking point had to have been something big, something explosive. It had to, or why else would this facade have lasted so long? Why did you let him? Perhaps it was when he kissed your neck after Potions, asking to meet up after dinner. He moved away before you could follow him out into the corridor and joined his friends instead. The boys looked back at you, wanting to wait but Remus kept walking on. Or maybe it was when you woke up in his bed again, his side cold and your clothes folded properly at the edge. Remus was propped against his desk, mumbling that he had a very busy day ahead, and the silence that followed was enough to make you leave. Always good enough to bed, but never wanted by morning. It’s best to act like he wasn’t the one who asked you to stay.

—

None of those moments ruined your perception of him though. It was the lightest feather touch of a reaction that shattered the glass. He was walking you back to your common room after prefect duties, and you squeezed his hand gently, swinging it back and forth.

“D’you want to study for midterms tomorrow in the library? We could try to get that little table in the corner you like…” you said nudging his shoulder. He sighed, and his breath was hot against the crisp winter air as it landed on your cheek. Remus’s silence was your answer, and of course, it hurt. You’d do anything for a half-assed utterance to fill the shrill noise of your hope filling the space between you right about now. But this time was different though. This time he truly didn’t care. Remus looked at you with dead eyes, his mind somewhere far from where you were standing with him.

“Not this time, lovely.” The boy was tired, and so were you. The physicality of it was apparent in the way his posture hung low, and the way your shoulders fell from the emotional avalanche that his lack of effort pushed down on you.

“It’s okay. I hope you get some rest then.” Your eyes study his face, gliding from the crinkle of his temples to the scar on his nose and the freckles across his cheeks. He grimaces at your response. You wonder if any part of him hurts like this too.

“Will I see you before we leave for winter break? Maybe you have time during the holiday.” Remus speaks quietly as if he’s the one being inconvenienced.

“Maybe,” you say. He makes a noise in recognition of that, nodding with his eyes closed. Stepping away from him, you turn to walk away before he’s behind you, lips against your hair.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles, breathing you in like wafting amorentia. His hands are shuffling through his pocket before he pulls out the wool mittens his mother knit for him the year prior.

“Shouldn’t let your pretty fingers freeze in the cold.” He puts them on you daintily snapping the buttons closed, his nose against your ear. The corridor is silent alongside the slow thud of your heart. You walk away wordlessly, shoulders pinched like a chill has traveled down your spine.

—

Remus doesn’t see much of you in the days before winter break. Between studying for exams and his monthly run-in with the moon, there isn’t much time to catch his breath. He knows the hold he has on your heart is a devastatingly gory scene. You’ve let him in deeply as he burrows in every fang and claw he has to offer you. And in turn, he takes what he can grab with his razor-sharp touch. He tries earnestly to be gentle but the more of you he caresses, the more blood he has to mop up.

His fingers are tapping on his forearm methodically as he waits for you outside of Transfiguration. Sorting through his thoughts as he waits for the rest of the class to finish the exam, Remus’ mind always falls back to you. Love is difficult, like many other aspects of his life, you see. He knows he loves his parents and his friends, but it makes him uncomfortable, much like someone undergoing anaphylaxis, to be honest with you. To lay himself out vulnerably to someone like you…He’s worried he’ll scare you off.

Students trickle out of McGonagall’s classroom, and you step out with your friends in tow, babbling about the exam. The feeling crawls up his throat as he tries to say something, but air and any coherent thought escapes him. What he feels for you has been making him do that a lot lately.

“Hey lovely.” he blurts out, body turning as he pushes off the wall in an attempt to catch your eye. But you keep rambling with your friends, throwing an arm over your roommate as you hardly spare him a glance. It’s not until your group reaches the end of the corridor that you look back at him for half a second, lashes fluttering as you turn back to your friends. And his heart is growing desperate, swelling, sighing as you continue to walk away.

—

You left for winter break without saying goodbye. The letters that he made his owl Nougat deliver to your bedroom window almost every day had you running out of treats to give her when she’d try to nip you for sending her back emptyhanded. Poor thing is getting fat.

Your mother is so intrigued by your behavior that one night as you feed your baby brother a spoonful of mashed potatoes, she asks you something you’ve been wondering yourself.

“Honey, do you have a boyfriend?” The silverware clinks against your plate as you contemplate the answer. How do you explain this to your mother? How do you explain him? Has he hurt you so much that you bare your soul to her in hopes that she’ll put her work away and listen? Yes, but you let him, the little voice in your head says, so the guilt inside you keeps your response prompt.

“I don’t think so,” you say, your lips drawn tightly. Your brother spits out some mash and it dribbles down his chubby cheek as he laughs at the sight of you making faces at him.

“What a mess, darling. Best clean it up.” You watch your mother’s eyes flit across your face instead of his before she says no more and goes back to cutting into her roast chicken. The napkin across your lap is wiped across his tiny face as you swallow hard.

What a mess, indeed.

After washing the dishes and excusing yourself, you crawl into bed staring at the ceiling. The moonlight shines brightly, a beam of light reflecting on the pile of unopened letters on your nightstand. Turning towards the wall, you shut your eyes and try to fall asleep.

You dream of him often. And in your dreams, he’s always just a little bit out of reach, always running away as you trip over snow-covered cobblestone, arms extended toward him. Though these dreams plague you, the realization hits that dreaming of him is better than your reality. In your dreams, your love is still pure and untouched. When you close your eyes you let yourself be the girl who was hoping at the beginning of it all.

—-

The day after Christmas a pair of tiny hands shake you awake. Your eyes shift open to see your three-year-old brother peering up at you, hands tangled in your duvet.

“Your fwend is outside,” he whispers almost comically loud as you rub the sleep from your eyelids.

“What?”

“Your fwend is outside. I saw him in the window. He looks cold, sissy.”

You scoop him in your arms, carrying him back into his room and tucking him under the covers before you shuffle out front, watching Remus lean against his beat-up car. Throwing your coat on, you walk down your driveway, meeting him in a flurry of hot breath and cautious smiles.

“You’re not Nougat,” you say, raising an eyebrow at him as you stop short at his feet, crossing your arms.

“She’s almost too fat to fly now. Thought I’d get a message to you myself.” he chuckles, and it makes you remember why you liked him in the first place.

“Fancy a ride?”

He props the door open for you, hand ghosting the curve of your back. As you step past him to take a seat, he pulls you in for a kiss. It makes your knees tremble, having deprived yourself of everything about him for the past few weeks. The kiss sucks you in deeper as you anchor yourself onto the nape of his neck, and he’s moaning into your mouth. You hope your little brother isn’t watching through the window.

He drives you around in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. The heat is on high as he finally stops at the park, and he looks over at you. This time last year, he taught you how to drive here, both of you anxious for two different reasons—you trying not to crash and him discerning if you like him back. You both had sex in the backseat after you got the hang of it, windows fogged up and steamy.

“Did you read my letters?” he starts, and you sigh before the end of his question. “No,” you mutter, looking out the window.

“Hey…What’s on your mind?” His fingers pull at your chin for you to look back at him, and you jolt back like he hurt you. You lean forward, pressing your palms into your eyes, breathing hard. He’s looking at you like he knows what’s coming, but he still hopes it’s not true. A boy made from Hope and of hope, that’s all he is. But it hurts to hope though. It hurts to hope for more when he knows he’s pushed you past your limits.

“There’s only so much you can expect of me, Remus. I’m just not sure I can do this anymore,” you whisper.

“Do what?” His voice is desperate and he’s hoping you won’t end this, even though you’re well in your right to do so.

“This. Whatever this is. Sometimes it feels like we’re together, but I know we’re not, and um… I’ve lost the plot. You’ve cut me too deep, Remus.” Your bottom lip is trembling as you croak out the words feeling sorry for yourself.

Remus leans his head against the window, knuckles white as he clutches the steering wheel. He’s going to lose you, and he’s petrified.

“Look, if this is because I haven’t spent time with you at sch–”

“It is. But not just that. There are many reasons,” you cut in, your head tilting as you look at him. “You don’t make time for me, you’re embarrassed to be seen with me half the time. You act like I’m your girlfriend and Remus, you lie, constantly. I can’t keep up with what you throw at me and it’s too much, okay? I’ve let you hurt me for too long.” You get through most of it without hiccupping, but he can’t do anything but watch as you wipe your tears away.

“Do you love me?” he pleads, and if he’s ruined it all by asking that, he can’t tell. His hands run through his hair and he thinks he’s ripped to you pieces at this point. The carnage of the truth sits in his passenger seat as you sit there motionless, staring out the windshield.

“That doesn’t make me yours, Remus. It never has. My love is mine. That’s the only thing you can’t take away from me.”

Remus chokes on a sob as he watches your resolve harden. The windows are fogging up and it’s getting hard for him to breathe.

“I’m so sorry…I just don’t even know how to tell you th—”

“That you have lycanthropy?” Somehow hearing it from your mouth doesn’t scare him. This confession and your candor makes the shame he’s carried with him all these years feel lighter.

“You can say it how it is, lovely. I’m a werewolf. I– The moon shows me who I really am. A monster. I-shouldn’t…I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

Your hand brushes against his cheek, pressing the tears into the indents of your fingertips as you wipe away his sorrow. He does hurt like you do. And you’d take it all away if you could.

“A monster doesn’t worry about if they hurt people they love. You didn’t mean to hurt me, did you?”

He sniffs, wiping his nose with his sweater as he shakes his head. Both of you brush over the notion of love. There is a time and place for that, and it sure as hell isn’t right now. He’s being vulnerable to you for once, so you tell him what he needs to hear.

“You’re not a monster, Remus. You have a big heart, and you’re wonderfully sweet, but sometimes your actions hurt. I know….everything about you. And from the reasons I can’t do this anymore, lycanthropy isn’t even in the top 10.” You lean towards him, noses touching.

“But I never said I regret it.”

You wish you could find better words to tell him he’s not as damned as he thinks he is. That anyone is deserving of love, especially him, but it’s hard to convince him that. Remus surges the small distance to meet your lips, and you can’t help but indulge, because if he’s damned then so are you, pulling him over the console as he sighs in relief.

—-

Later, he drives you home, one hand on your thigh rubbing circles as you watch his side profile, less taut, but without a smile. The secret’s out, and there’s not much left to do but navigate the bloodbath. He hopes that he’s able to pick up the pieces and do you right. Remus pulls into your driveway and the car engine rumbles lowly as you sit, unmoving.

The door unlocks and he waits for you to make a move. Your hand glides over the door handle before you turn instead to look at him and his hand is extended towards you, a millimeter away from yours.

“I really am sorry. For treating you like shit.” he sighs.

“I know.” A smile graces your lips as you lean in and you kiss him again tenderly, once, then twice. It soothes the tightness of his jaw and he hopes you don’t hate him after all of this. The passenger door opens, and you climb out and look at the sky. It’s snowing. He watches you standing there, snowflakes sticking to your hair.

“I do love you, Remus,” you admit, biting your lip. “Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” The laugh that follows is humorless, his eyes wide as you shut the door. Trudging your boots through the snow, a shiver wracks your body. You peek back at the car once you get in the house and give him a kind smile before you step in.

Remus sits there with the weight of your devotion. Brave in all aspects but love, he hopes you can wait a little longer for him to catch up. For now, his eyes fall to the passenger seat as he shifts the gear into reverse. His wool mittens occupy the seat. Your hands must be cold again.

—-

“Sometimes, home is not a home, but a claw lodged inside you. A river you step into because it holds light. You are waist deep, wading in what mauls you.”

-Athena Nassar

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: my love, mine, all mine by mitski & sleep tight by holly humberstone

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#remus lupin x reader #marauders era #remus lupin is a self deprecating mf!!!#remus lupin x you #marauders x reader

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8-rae-rae-8 · 3 months

Note

hi it’s me 🧪 & i’m back on my spelling-error-littered bullshit. i got some OC things cooking up soon that will not contain angst because my caregiver instincts need at least SOME comfort for these poor boys

anyway thinking about ghost who’s a little jealous that gaz and soap can just *be small.* either quickly slipping into their headspace or a more slow, fuzzy drop over the course of hours.

if their regression is “dropping,” ghost experiences plummeting.

i need ghost who has way too many unprocessed Big Emotions™ that it all just piles up until he’s dazed, confused, and sobbing into whatever caregiver he’s closest to. ghost who just needs to cry it all out.

and imo that’s part of the reason why he regresses so young. he’s so used to holding it all in that it needs to just come out. gaz and soap regress to help with stress and go back to childhood innocence. i think simon’s would be more dissociated and is his brain’s way to process trauma rather than escape it.

”That’s it, little dove,” Price coos softly as he rocks a sobbing Simon. “Let all those big, scary emotions out. Just like that.”

after a rather loud confession to his captain about wishing his regression was different, more “pure,” price slowly starts to add more little related things to his routine.

more frequent “good jobs” over seemingly trivial things.

grabbing things for him that his simon could most certainly reach himself.

bringing simon food cut up, making sure his plushies were nice and clean (and tucked into his bed like little people), ruffling his hair… by the end of the day, ghost was already in the fuzzy headspace to regress as opposed to one big cry that would exhaust him for days.

bonus for gaz and soap when simon is feeling older since they’ve been **dying** to play with him, but simon never feeling well.

(gaz shows a sleepy simon his entire lego collection and soap lets the blond play with his cars, even though simon’s version of playing is just lining them up)

-🧪

Oh anon

Anon this is so good

Ghost's experience is plummeting, that's so accurate

I love that price would figure things out to slowly ease him into it rather than just picking up the pieces after he breaks

The boys would so definitely be excited to play 😭

#🧪#the autistic urge to line things up rather than 'play' with them properly /pos #simon ghost riley #cod agere

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reimeichan · 1 year

Text

TW gaslighting and talk of splitting ahead. Pretty personal stuff, delves into shit I went through with my ex.

Been doing some digging and self-examination and... I’m actually fairly certain now that, even if our ex didn’t know for sure if we have DID or not, they sure as fuck took advantage of our dissociative barriers and lack of memory to make us second guess ourselves constantly.

Like, sure, very few if anyone can actually recall in exact detail every single word of an hour long conversation that we’ve had with every single person in our lives. But our ex claimed to be able to do such, and would use that in arguments against us every single time. And due to my own shitty memory, I ended up just taking their word for it every single time. “I thought I told you I’d get it done this evening,” I’d say. And they would say, “No, you didn’t. You said you’d get it done by 6pm. It’s now 8pm.” Okay, so 6pm is still evening. It wasn’t word for word what I said according to you, but I still wasn’t lying when I said evening. And like, stuff like that would constantly happen to the point I’d second guess every single word and every single conversation I’d had with them. I mean, they’d already shown that their own memory was generally better than mine in things that were definitively provable (misplaced items, appointments, etc.), so how could I doubt them during these arguments as well?

And it’s because of these seeds of doubt that started reinforcing those dissociative barriers within myself. And so to please they, I would split parts of myself to do whatever they asked for, because it was easier to just do as they said instead of arguing otherwise. Wash the dishes every day. Make sure the door is locked every evening. Vacuum the floor once a week. Clean the bathroom every other week. I split myself into so many tiny little autonomous parts so that I wouldn’t doubt her, so that I wouldn’t think too hard or feel too upset by her words.... and for what?

I, Cyan, used to be one alter. As my memories return from these parts of myself that I’ve chucked away, I’m certain that back in college, even possibly before then, I was one alter. But something changed once I started living with my ex, and my memory issues got worse and worse, as I constantly split parts of myself off just to please my ex. But even that didn’t satisfy them, because those memory issues also caused problems.

I can’t say for certain if my ex was reinforcing those dissociative barriers on purpose for their own benefit.... but I can definitely say that whatever happened fucked me up as a part really badly. And I don’t even know how many of “me” there are in this Cyan subsystem. It was confusing and upsetting to discover this about myself; I guess to a certain extent, I knew. But the parts of me that knew also hid that from the parts of me that didn’t.... and now I have all these memories and emotions being shared between us, and I’m just trying to make sense of it all.

I loved my ex. I still love them, we’ve been together for so long and they’ve helped me out through so much. But I also hate them. I hate that I’ve turned out like this from living with them for so long. I hate that I’ve been fragmented into all these tiny little pieces and I’m the one who has to deal with putting the pieces back together.

I don’t know why I’m talking about this. I guess... I just needed to vent. It’s been on my mind for too long and I don’t know how to get my thoughts in order.

#actuallydid #actually did #dissociative identity disorder #did #cdd #personal #vent #trauma #tw gaslighting #tw splitting #splitting #gaslighting #fragments #by cyan

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qwertishy · 2 years

Text

My whole childhood was filled with undiagnosed, untreated, unacknowledged conditions that amplified my perception of an already terrible situation or two. I look back on it now, in what others are calling some middle aged newfound wisdom, whatever that means... and I'm wondering, truly wondering, how much of it was real?

Growing up, I unknowingly suffered from borderline personality disorder, dissociation, hallucinations, ADD, and a crippling amount of depression and anxiety. Everything was fast paced and either the best day of my life or seemingly the last. I never knew what tomorrow would bring, let alone if I would even see it at all. Despite that, I wasn't scared of my own mortality, in fact, I reveled in it. I valued it. It was a constant reminder on my darker days that there was a way out, my only calming solace. My silver lining.

By the time I realized there was something wrong with me.. specifically, and not just the dangers I had been subjected to... my perception of reality was so twisted and distorted that I honestly couldn't tell reality from fantasy. I couldn't piece together what really happened and what didn't happen, who was real and who wasn't real. What words were said and what words only imagined.

Through the mess and confusion, I hurt a lot of people. I lost a lot of people. Some relationships ended because of it, and the worst part is... I will never know why. I will never know what I did. Yet, I do it again and again. How do I explain that whatever happened, whatever I did.. wasn't me? Does it matter? I've had some of the world's greatest people by my side, and somewhere along the lines I did something to fuck it all up and lost all of them forever.

My father died spring of last year. Initially, there were a lot of mixed feelings. I've been working on building a relationship with him for a long time. I've been working on healing and forgiveness. I've been working on it a lot. I wasn't done healing. I hadn't yet forgave. I feel like him leaving had robbed me of the goal I had been working so hard towards for so long. I was angry. Backtracking in all my progress and all my successes. Then, almost without warning, I forgive him. Something I could never do in life. Again, I was angry. Upset that I couldn't achieve this at a time we could both enjoy together.

I think about him everyday, now. Before, he was lucky if I thought of him more than once a season. Now I crave his company all the time, miss him every morning. Cry... every time. I have no photos of him, no adult memories, no anything. I feel constantly robbed each time I think of him. It feels like he's been gone forever and like it was yesterday all at the same time. I can't explain it. And with all this grief and confusion... I feel a new me emerging. A new sense of clarity I never had before. Suddenly I feel alone.

You see, my father knew he did me wrong as a child. He knew I was scared of him, scarred by him, haunted by him. He tried, he really tried to get me to forgive him. He did everything but acknowledge what he did, everything but apologize. I often wondered if the gift buying cleared his conscience. If he thought that he was buying my forgiveness, my affection, my love. In my adult life, he was kind and gentle, sweet and caring. All the things I had wanted as a child. But by then, my perception of reality was already set in stone. It kills me that I was not able to change that in time.

I pushed everyone away. Everyone was a threat or an enemy. And now, I'm alone. And it hurts, and I'm scared. I'm too old to be alone. I always hear young people griping on and on about "how old" they are, like it's some sort of psychological game... I've never truly felt old until this year. It's not a flattering emotion. I want to say something dramatic and played out like, "I've never been alone before" or something of the like, but I'm sure that's not true... I just can't emphasize enough how lonely I've been feeling since my latest losses.

I'm having a really hard time, lately.

#words #thoughts #qwertishy

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alyssadeliv · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten One

First Previous

Chapter 11

She always knew she had a Father. When she was younger she used to ask her mother about him. She mostly told her half-truths. She knew his real name, and about his nightly activities. About his time with the League, and how he adopted some orphans along the way. She heard all about him. From Mother, Grandfather, and sometimes other members passing by. From a young age, she had him pictured in her mind.

But now, sitting in front of him, in his office, she felt silly for ever trying to imagine what he would be like. He didn’t compare to whatever her young mind had conjured at the time. He was tall, and he had a face that she could only explain as enigmatic. He wore a mask, that she knew. After years of perfection one of her own, she could only imagine what he had been thought to dissociate himself from the people around him.

The office was simple, but at the same time imposing. It had a desk, behind it was her father paying attention to every word that came out of her mouth, with a large bookcase by her left. All the wood was dark, giving the room a more serious look. To her right, the wall was entirely covered with windows, with its drapes open showing the beautiful big garden outside the Manor. Behind her father, there is a painting hanging. A family portrait. She recognizes everyone in the painting with ease. Bruce is seated, with Damian in his lap, while Jason, Richard, and Timothy are standing behind Father’s chair. It’s an exquisite piece and even though they all are wearing suits, it makes the whole room look homey.

“Why didn’t you come here, after you healed from the attack?” They had been talking for the past hour. Marianne spent most of that time telling him the circumstances of her upbringing.

“I couldn't. My Master thought it would be better to stay longer.” She explains while playing nervously with the hem of the shirt Damian had lent her this morning. He could feel the anxiety coming out of her but was impressed that she kept herself strong and didn’t avoid eye contact. “So we continued with my training, but after some time we discovered a destructive energy that could only come from someone misusing a Miraculous. So it was decided that we would stay and assess the situation.”

“And this person was the fashion designer you killed this week? Gabriel Agreste?” He had a disapproving face, typical of parents disciplining their children.

“Damian made me aware of your no-kill policy, but since this was an Order business I believe you do not have the power to dictate how I dealt with it. I respect that this is your city, but believe or not I was lenient in his punishment. If it was up to me, death wouldn’t have been enough to compensate for all the pain he caused to the citizens of Paris, but I must allow the Gods to decide his punishment, so death it was.” Her speech allows him time to think about the situation. By the end of it he agreed, it wasn’t his business.

“What happened is in the past. I need to know if I can trust you not to endanger the people of Gotham. Who are you loyal to?”

“I am loyal to myself. And Damian. Trust has to be earned so it is okay that I do not have yours. But trust this: I love Damian, and would rather die than hurt him” Bruce analises her for some time, trying to find any hint of dishonesty on her, but just like his youngest when cornered, her emotions were transparent in her face.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you remind me so much of… well your mother” He confessed with a nostalgic expression. “When she first brought Damian to live with me I was so shocked. I must admit that my reaction wasn’t the best. He was so grown, that it was hard to get to know him. With the others it was easier, they-”

“They weren’t your blood” She supplies. He looks a little relieved that she understood what he was trying to explain. “But you loved them all the same.”

“I did this once, it was a terrible job. Just know that I’ll be trying my best to- well, accommodate you into this family.”

“That’s all I ask for.” She replies with a small smile.

Marianne looked so much like his mother at a young age. He remembers spending hours looking through family album photos when he was younger. Sure he could see traces of Talia in her, but the blue eyes and black hair were definitely a Wayne trait. It scared him. Did he have any other children out there that he knew nothing about? He lost so many years from his children's lives, it pained him to think about what type of childhood they received. Sure, both Damian and Marianne didn’t hide their upbringing, but anyone could see that there were things they weren’t comfortable sharing. He knew from his own time at the League that it wasn’t easy.

“When did you meet Jason?” He had heard from Dick just this morning that apparently there was something that Jason hadn’t told them about his time in the League.

“Mother ordered me to train him after he was resurrected, because of my powers I was the best candidate to help him control the madness inside of him.” She explains, but Bruce could see the faint blush on her cheeks.

“And you two…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question.

“Yes. And please let’s leave it at that.” She’s blushing more than she ever did before. The fact she’s talking about her love life in front of her newly acquired father makes the whole situation hilarious, and if she wasn't so mortified she would have laughed.

“There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you” Marianne begins, uncertain of how the man in front of her would react to her request. “If it was alright with you, could I please have a hug?”

Whatever Bruce thought she was going to ask, it definitely wasn't this. So he stays there in shock, totally still for more time than he realizes. Enough for doubt to appear in the girl in front of him. His daughter. His blood daughter. He had some experience with Cassandra, but he still wasn’t sure he hadn’t totally fucked up with her yet, so this whole new daughter scene was hard on him.

Before she can flee the room in shame of her request, Father rises from his chair with grace, hiding his anxiety behind his perfected mask. In two strikes he is at her side.

The hug feels nice. Not that she would ever confess but the physical touch was something she always missed. The only person that had no trouble with being smothered with her love was Damian, and then later Jason. So, this hug from her father was definitely something she needed.

When they are done Bruce takes one more lounging look at her before dismissing her. He truly needed some time to think of all that had happened in the last few days. It had been almost 4 days since the reveal of the parentage of the girls, so he still had a lot to process.

So now sitting with a glass of bourbon in one hand, and his cellphone in the other. He did the only thing he could think of. He called Seline.

“Hey… It’s me.”

Hello again everyone! A special thank you to everyone that has been supporting this story! I wasn't sure if I indeed wanted to write a PART 2 to this story, but after all your comments I decided to do so. I hope you all like this chapter, it's shorter than usual, but I still need to figure some stuff about the story, so please bear with me! Let me know what yall think of it!

Taglist: @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13 @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @blackroserelina @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades @thefangirlwholiterallydies @astoriaandromeda @unnamed2357 @little-lady-bird @imdaqueenie @meismu @dorkus-minimus @a4-machete @arty-shadow-morningstar @catthhay @sizzling-fairy-oil @poodapup @charme-de-malchan @jayjayspixiepop @fusser90 @adrestar @iloontjeboontje @buginetye @macncheesemonster @messymessyml @redbullgivescaswings @queer-illusion @moonlightstar64 @kking13 @lupagrimm @dorkus-minimus @roguishredaxion @meow-6296 @galla02006 @samiamack @readingalldaysleepingallnight @twsssmlmaa @ihatecomingupwithusernameswtf @alexizlazy @lady-bee-fechin @mizzy-pop @alcoholic-barney @ladyqnoirr @wingl3ss @vroomtaka

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bibbykins · 4 years

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Tandem Heartbeats and Close Calls

A/N: Hi everyone! I had started this little drabble forever ago and recently finished it in a half-asleep stupor, so I hope you can forgive the quality. It’s not my best work, but I do want to give the time I spent finishing it justice by posting. Also, I know a ton of people want some sort of part two or continuance for Embroidery, and I do too, so until I can muster a proper part-two, please enjoy this drabble... which is also me committing myself to a series of fight/make up drabbles for the soft yan boys. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and have a lovely day/night!

Pairing: Soft Yandere! (Embroidery) Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship, panic attack, sensory overload meltdown/reaction, mean/degrading words, dissociation (kinda), emotional manipulation- this is not a depiction of a good or healthy couple this is an installment in the dark romance that I write for a mature (18+ since the first installment is rated as such) audience and do not wish nor intend for anyone to glorify or strive for this kind of relationship and I do not think anyone in BTS would act like this at all IRL, this is a work of fiction depicting a relationship that could not exist as such or functionally IRL,I could go on for days about this but please know that much. Also if I left out anything else I should add in the warnings I am so sorry and please let me know.

Summary: He just wanted to stand up for you and you just wanted to stand on your own. The thought of you doing anything on your own, without him, shakes him to his very core.

You hated tension. You hated anger and the silence that came from having no words to properly express emotions. Yet, here you were with Taehyung, sitting in his living room as he paced wildly, the both of you still in your work clothes. The disagreement turned full-blown fight stemming from an issue that seemed so silly to you.

You looked at your nails, chipping off the polish as you spoke, “I don’t see why you’re overreacting to misogyny in the workplace like this.” You mumbled, "And mad at me for it." You huffed, only earning a scoff from the pacing man.

“I don’t see why you’re so intent on being pushed around by lazy workers.” He seethed, “Youngmin knows better than to throw his work on you, he’s a production manager!”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at this. You already knew that. You were just about to tell Youngmin that before Taehyung stepped in needlessly. This had definitely not been the first time people dumped work on you purely because you were a capable secretary and someone who looked like a pushover. You knew how to handle these situations, regardless if you ended up doing the work. Taehyung, however, seemed to not have any such faith in you considering the scene he made on the entire accounting floor, embarrassing the life out of you.

“That doesn’t give you the right to make a scene on my behalf.” You hissed back, "I can stand up for myself, if you just gave me the chance."

Taehyung scoffed and it made your eyebrow twitch at his patronizing demeanor, “Well, what else do I do if you’re being pushed around?” You huffed at the comment.

“I’m not being pushed around.” You tried to reason but Taehyung wouldn’t have it.

“Well, I’m the one making sure of that!” You flinched at the volume of his voice, but he didn’t catch it from his pacing while you stood, making him freeze.

“Then why are you the only one pushing me around?!” You huffed, tears in your eyes while Taehyung felt his heart crack. You had never yelled at him before, let alone cried because if him. The same realization seemed to dawn on you as you faltered for a moment, “I-I can handle things myself sometimes, you know.” You spoke incredulously, “I was a person of my own before you, do you not get that?!”

“Oh yeah? Who?” He snapped and you gasped lightly. Is this what he genuinely thought about you? Did your own boyfriend think so low of you and you couldn't see it, “I just remember you being a receptionist that cried on the phone and couldn’t be bothered to so much as make her own lunch, so what were you, if not mine?” He finished his words with a hard glare fixated at you which immediately softened at your glassy eyes with betrayal lying in your pupils

"How could you say that to me?!" You seethed, your eyes void of any affection or love for the man before you, making him freeze, “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be who I am, and that person is not just your girlfriend, do you want me to prove it?!" Your words felt like a veiled threat, like you would leave him and he felt your words like a spear to the heart.

He could not let that happen, under any circumstances. You could not leave him. He could never allow it. You were his world, his everything, his reason for existing.

Going into panic mode, the man spoke in a hushed tone “Baby, I didn’t mean-

You held your hand up, silencing him as you shook your head, “I need some time to, you know, figure out who I am." You spoke sarcastically but voice quiet as you shuffled to the door.

"W-What do you mean?" He tried to keep the panic in his voice at bay as you slipped on your shoes.

You shrugged, "I don't know." An honest answer did make the situation less frightening for the both of you. What the fuck did you mean? What the fuck were you going to do by yourself?

Wrong answer. In order for you to leave this place, he had to know you loved him and would still continue to do so.

"You know I love you, my Venus, right?" His restraint was hanging by a thread as he watched you slip on your shoes.

"Right." You spoke, barely above a whisper.

Strike two. You didn't say it back. Why would you not say it back? How could you not say it back?! Taehyung watched his nightmare unfold at his own hand. You were slipping away from him, and for the first time, he had no idea what to do.

"I don't want you to go home this late, my love." He took slow steps toward you as your shaky hands tied your shoes, not accustomed to this kind of conflict, "I can just sleep on the couch, and you can..."

You whimpered as you couldn't tie your damn shoes. Your hands were shaking along with the rest of your form as you couldn't focus on the task at hand. You were overstimulated to say the least by everything. From the work day, to the scene, to the fight, to the brokeness of everything around you. Taehyung and you rarely ever fought and each time it was mentally exhausted, but it had never been this bad. You had never felt so sub-human and worthless. Were you just an accessory this whole time?

Had Taehyung loved you or just your company? You felt like a burden to him and just like a shitty excuse of a human all around. What the hell are you if not his? Maybe he was right.

A whine sounded from your closed lips as tears fell to the ground. Your shaky hands had paused on your laces completely, the knots tangled and resembling nothing like the bunny ears you needed. Goodness, you couldn't even tie your damn shoes correctly.

Taehyung's words evidently fell on def years as only distressed sounds and whines came from you. The word was blurrying from your tears and just being overwhelmed all around as your chest squeezed around itself and you opened your mouth to choke on a sob before two hands covered your ears, pushing your face into a familiar chest.

You fought against the embrace before falling on your bottom and defeatedly ceasing your struggles as you focused on the quickened heartbeat your partner had. Why was he so panicked? Surely you were not significant enough to make the ever cool Kim Taehyung's self-confidence shake, right? His heart was pounding furiously, just like yours, though. You thought back to his comment about tandem heart beats on your first night together. Now, the reasoning didn't sound so crazy as the synchronous heartbeats you both shared resounded between your forms. Your sobs evolved into just heavy breaths as your shoulders relaxed a bit, signaling the man holding you to pull back a bit. His hands slid down to cup your cheeks and stroked them softly, a sad smile adorning his beautiful face.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay, hm?" He kissed your forehead, eyes glossy as he pulled back, laying his forehead on yours, "I'm so fucking sorry I was being such a piece of shit." His voice shook, "Fuck, I never meant to hurt you like that, I didn't even mean what I said. I was just fucking projecting because I was nothing until you came into my life-"

"What a lie." You sniffled, "You have always been Kim Taehyung, campus prince, successful businessman, a fucking CEO- board member- whatever." You sighed out, "You've always been something-"

"None of that meant anything to me, barely does now, I never cared about anything until I met you." He breathed shakily, "I love you so much and you brought so much color to my world and I felt like all I had to offer you was protection and I have no damn idea how to be of use to you while you're so effortlessly the focal point of my existence."

Your breath hitched at this, "I-I… What the hell are you talking about?" You huffed out, "This whole night I have felt like such a burden, like I was just a pet for you to look after, like I would be nothing without you- like you said-" Pain flashed across his face. He did say that. He didn’t mean it, but he said it and it affected you.

"Shit, I did not mean that at all, please believe me." He begged, voice cracking, "I am nothing if not yours, I can't take care of myself without you, my life is nothing without you in it." You opened your mouth to protest but he continued after a heavy breath, "I remember you as the receptionist who didn't care who liked her and who didn't, but you were still so shamelessly human and it was, and still is, fucking beautiful to see, you are so dedicated and hard-working. I felt the only way I could even get involved with you was through anonymous lunches because I was too cowardly to just approach you. Why would you like me to begin with? You never once needed me, but I have spent years now, needing you so shamelessly and it makes me feel so small when you don't need my help and I lash out like a child about it and say things I don't fucking mean, at all." He took a deep breath, "I love you more than anything, more than life itself, and I never want to make you feel like anything less than a fucking goddess and I'm so sorry I fucked up so bad." You couldn't find words as he gave you a short kiss on your nose before pulling away, averting his eyes as his cheeks glistened and he focused his hand on your shoes, "If you still need time on your own, I understand, and...and I will respect that." He spoke softly, defeated, as he gently undid the tangle of knots on your left shoe before beginning to tie it correctly, "Is that too tight?" He murmured.

You shook your head, tears heavy on your cheeks, "Stop, Tae-Tae." You pleaded softly but he could hardly register your words until you laid a hand on his, making him look up at you.

You studied his face, tears fresh on his cheeks with stains beginning to dry from previous ones, "Baby?" His voice was so broken.

"You can just take off the shoes, I-I want to lay down." You looked at him as he met your eyes with hopefully ones, "With you. I want to lay down… with you." He nodded before gingerly taking your shoes off, as if to give you time to change your mind, "I love you Tae-Tae, I really fucking do, and it's so scary because I want to be perfect for you like you are for me and I feel like I keep falling short and so to hear you say that earlier it just…" You shrugged, not sure how to vocalize how you felt.

He sighed, "I really didn't mean it, but it doesn't change the fact that I said it." He began to take off the other shoe, "I do think you're perfect and I need to be better with my stupid fucking insecurity about it and stop being such a dick." He slipped the other shoe off before pulling you into a tight embrace, "I love you, so much, and I would give up everything in a heartbeat just to be with you." You held him back, giving him peace of mind after being so vulnerable.

Your body was exhausted as he carried you to his bedroom. You could barely help him as he dressed you for bed and tucked you in carefully before sliding in next to you. He cradled you delicately in his arms, not squeezing until you held him against you tighter, "I forgive you." You whispered against his chest, "I love you, I really do."

"Thank you so much, my Venus." He sighed in relief at your words, "I love you too, so fucking much." He leant down as you kissed his lips softly.

Taehyung lightly admonished himself for a moment. He nearly lost you. He could never let that happen again from his own foolishness. He couldn't live without you. He would never fuck up like that again, and he wouldn't. He vowed to never make a scene like that. He had to do that shit in private, obviously. He slipped up, but he would not be so obnoxious again.

Before he could continue to curse his stupidity, you snuggled against him, "G'night, my love." You murmured and he relaxed instantly, head cleared with only thoughts of how much he loved you.

"Sweet dreams, my Venus." He kissed the crown of your head and you hummed in delight at the gesture before he joined you in closing his eyes and drifting away into a peaceful sleep after one of the scariest nights of his life.

Thankfully, Taehyung never made the same mistake twice. Especially a mistake so critical. Who knows what he would’ve had to do if you were dead set on leaving him? Again, thankfully, neither you, nor Taehyung, would not find out. Not that Taehyung planned for you to ever find out just how far he was willing to go to keep you with him, to keep your requited love, to keep both of your hearts beating, together.

Masterlist

Donate to my ko-fi (if you want to ofc)

#bts #bts fanfic #bts series #bts drabble #kim taehyung #bts v #soft yandere bts #yandere bts #bts angst #bts fluff #yandere bts drabble

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buckybarnesbingo · 3 years

Photo

BBB Week 6 Roundup!

Little bit late, Mod Meg was on vacay over the weekend.

Title: Cute Quaterbacks Collaborator(s): Tori/samandbucky Link: AO3 Square: B4 - Sharing Clothes Rating: Teen Ship(s): Steve/Tony Major tags/warnings: AU, School, Fake Relationship, Protective!Bucky Summary: Steve and Bucky grew up as childhood best friends and are now roommates in college. Bucky dares Steve to bring a date to one of his upcoming football games after Steve suggests he could date anyone he wanted to. Enter Tony Stark. Word count: 1767

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Title: The Curse Collaborator(s): Tori/samandbucky Link: AO3 Square: K4 - Kiss Rating: Teen Ship(s): Bucky/Clint Major tags/warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, Magic, Curses Summary: Clint gets hit during an alien attack with some dark magic, Bucky and Steve can't wake him, so they go to the only person they know who can undo the curse: Stephen Strange. Word count: 1364

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Title: A Regular Harry Houdini Collaborator(s): Bird Link: AO3 Square: K4 - Prisoners/Captives Together Rating: Teen Ship(s): Sam/Bucky Major tags/warnings: Minor Episode 5 Spoilers, Post-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Captured, First Kiss Summary: “You know, if Steve kissed me in the middle of an escape attempt, he would bring it up after,” Sam said. “I thought we weren’t talking about Steve,” Bucky grunted, closing his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap.” “I can’t believe you’re pretending to take a nap right now.” “I’m 106, Sam. I’m allowed to fall asleep whenever I want.” Word count: 1365

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Title: K5 Card B096 Soulbond Collaborator(s): Rufferto Link: Tumblr Square: K5 - High Fantasy, Curses, Shiny Sword Steve Rating: Teen Ship(s): Stucky Major tags/warnings: Fantasy Warrior Bucky, Curses, Art, Sword Steve Summary: When Bucky went off to war Steve was cursed into a sword. Bucky managed to find him because they share a bond but he's cursed. Bucky now carries Steve into battle wherever he goes looking for a way to have Steve at his side again. This was done on Hot Press Water Color Paper with Windsor & Newton and Arteza paints. I don’t much like the scan, there’s something always lost when a watercolor image is scanned but I will try some other time to get a better photo of it. Word count: none it is art.

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Title: Benevolent Overlord Collaborator(s): IndigoNight Link: AO3 Square: K1 - Bucky Bear Rating: Gen Ship(s): Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Major tags/warnings: Fluff, PTSD, Codependency, Alpine the Cat Summary: “Hi,” Bucky says, wincing a little at how hoarse and rough his voice sounds from disuse. The kitten just hisses at him again, huge green eyes narrowed into slits. “Yeah, I get it,” he agrees with a grimace and a commiserating nod. Word count: 4921

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Title: I'm James Buchanan Barnes Collaborator(s): e_hytes Link: Tumblr Square: C2 - Art Style: Black and White Rating: Gen Ship(s): No pairing/ship Major tags/warnings: #buckybarnes #wintersoldier #jamesbuchananbarnes #mcu Summary: A drawing of Bucky/Winter Soldier black and white Word count: N/A

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Title: Someone Like You Collaborator(s): Nicnac Link: AO3 Square: C4 - Prison Rating: Mature Ship(s): Bucky/Reader Major tags/warnings: Enemies, Uneasy Allies, Hydra Agent Reader, Negotiations Summary: Taken from their SHIELD prison cell, the reader finds themself alone with The Winter Soldier negotiating for their life. Word count: 2693

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Title: Sambucky Incorrect Quotes Collaborator(s): snowstark Link: Tumblr Square: U2 - Partner-In-Crime Rating: Teen Ship(s): Sam/Bucky Major tags/warnings: Enemies to lovers vibe, Humour Summary: “Bucky, we tried things your way already.” “No we didn’t.” “I did it in my head and it didn’t work.” Word count: N/A

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Title: darling, you’re the one i want in paper rings Collaborator(s): cyanica Link: AO3 Square: C5 - teasing Rating: Gen Ship(s): steve/bucky Major tags/warnings: first time, demisexuality, period-typical homophobia, fluff, friends to lovers Summary: "Okay, I don't know why I’ve never – you know!” Bucky said after a moment, a soft laugh spilling from his lips – something so genuine and bashful, that Steve wasn’t so sure what to make of. “You're just – you're the only one I've ever had eyes for. You're the only one I’ve ever wanted.” Or, whatever deity had constructed the fragmented pieces of their souls together, they were made of the same smithereens, and Steve was sure he had known that as a child, holding Bucky’s slightly larger hand and accepting that they were of the same love, without even knowing what such a concept was. Word count: 1630

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Title: Unexpected Alliances - Chapter 4 Collaborator(s): PoliZ Link: AO3 Square: C5 - Lending a Hand Rating: Mature Ship(s): Stucky Major tags/warnings: Fantasy AU, enemies to friends/lovers, referenced/implied torture Summary: Buckthorn’s refusal to use his fae magic to support his captor’s cause has left him battered and broken; when he is given a dangerous shifter as his cellmate, they overcome their differences to become allies and perhaps something more. Chapter 4: Upon reaching the shifters’ camp, Buckthorn meets another of Stephen’s companions who seems to have a chip on his shoulder when it comes to fae folk. Word count: 1034

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Title: A Story Told in Flesh, Chapter 3: Together In Dreams Collaborator(s): ChrissiHR Link: AO3 Square: B2 - Rocket Racoon Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Bucky x Darcy x Steve Major tags/warnings: Big Swingin’ Dick!Steve, smut, nsfw, dream sex, sex positive Summary: Bucky and Darcy get massages and discuss Aesir medical treatments; Darcy has an erotic dream about Bucky & Steve. Word count: 1270

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Title: Written In The Scars (On My Heart) Collaborator(s): IndigoNight Link: AO3 Square: K5 - Just Do It Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Major tags/warnings: Past Rape/Non-con, In Heat (but not A/B/O) Masturbation, Sex Toys, Mildly Dubious Consent, Body Worship, Self Body Worship, Rimming, Fuck Or Die (sort of), Porn with Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Inability to Orgasm, Body Image, Reference to Past Medical Experimentation, Self-Lubrication, Touch-Starved, Touch-Averse Summary: He swallows hard, struggling with himself one last time and losing. “I need your help,” he manages to whisper, voice cracking. The air in the room immediately changes. The wound up tension drains out of Steve, his posture and voice going soft. “Sure, Buck,” he says, cautiously moving back toward him. Bucky can’t move, his arms locked tight around his knees, and he can’t lift his gaze higher than Steve’s knees either. Steve pauses when he’s still a few feet away, squatting down and angling his head in an effort to see Bucky’s face through the curtain of his hair. “Anything. What do you need?” It’s everything Bucky can do to hold still, every cell in his body vibrating with the need to throw himself into Steve’s arms. He opens his mouth, but his throat sticks and he has to swallow again before he can force the words out. Slowly, by sheer force of will, he drags his gaze up to meet Steve’s eyes. “I need you to fuck me.” Word count: 41k

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Title: Acceptance is the first part of Healing Collaborator(s): Laevateinn Link: AO3 Square: C4 - Denial Rating: Teen Ship(s): N/A Major tags/warnings: 1e3 : Power Broker, TFATWS coda, TW for : implied sexual abuse/assault, dissociation, PTSD, flashbacks, Angst, hopeful(ish) ending Summary: "You good ?" Wilson asks him, after he fought against eight men. "You okay ?" Wilson asks him, when they get to Sharon’s house. "You hurt ?" Wilson asks him, when they get out of the car. Yes, Wilson. All good. Now if the guy could shut up and carry on, that'd be great. Why would he be "not fine" anyway ? It's not as if anything that happened that day hasn't happened before. Word count: 906

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Title: The Maze Stumbler (Moodboard) Collaborator(s): Turtles Link: Tumblr Square: B3 - Labyrinth Rating: Teen Ship(s): Darcy Lewis & Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Major tags/warnings: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Thor, Cocktail, Labyrinth Summary: Something, something, Thor spikes the punch at the party and they all decide to re enact the Maze Runner… or something like that. Sam and Bucky wake up in the middle of a maze, nothing but Darcy’s voice in their ear giving them directions and critiquing their methodology Word count: N/A

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Title: The Maze Stumbler (Fic) Collaborator(s): Turtles Link: AO3 Square: C1 - Stranded Rating: Teen Ship(s): Darcy Lewis & Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Major tags/warnings: Thor's Asgardian Booze, a labyrinth, Dubious Timeline, Everybody Lives, Crack Summary: Don’t drink Thor’s Asgardian booze. Ever. Word count: 1657

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Title: 5 Times Steve Received Plums from Natasha or Sam and the 1 Time Steve Realized the Plums weren’t from Them Collaborator(s): Girl_Back_There Link: AO3 Square: K5 - Bucky/Steve Rating: Teen Ship(s): Bucky/Steve Major tags/warnings: 5 + 1, Bucky and his Plums, Angst and Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug Summary: Steve keeps finding plums in his hotel rooms or his bag. He thinks it is Natasha or Sam trying to be a good friend by making sure he is eating and keeping up his energy in the search for Bucky. Each plum he finds reminds him of Bucky growing up in pre-WWII New York. The times they would give each other a plum as a way of saying “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” Word count: 2998

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Title: Faith and Desire and the Swing of Your Hips Collaborator(s): IndigoNight Link: AO3 Square: U2 - French Kiss Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Major tags/warnings: Crossdressing, Nonbinary Steve Rogers, Oral Sex, Body Dysphoria, Gender Exploration, Supportive Flirting Summary: “You look gorgeous, doll,” he drawls, dragging up as much of old Brooklyn as he can to infuse into the words. Steve startles, even though the doorway and Bucky in it are clearly reflected behind him in the mirror. Steve’s eyes flick to him and away again, his face going pink from the tips of his ears and spreading all the way down to his chest. He fidgets with his skirt, hands smoothing over the folds of it self consciously. “It looks a little silly,” he mutters, chewing on his already chapped lower lip. Word count: 5470

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Title: Stay Collaborator(s): Bird/plutosrose Link: AO3 Square: C3 - Free Square Rating: Explicit Ship(s): Sam/Bucky Major tags/warnings: Post-Canon, First Time Summary: “So, are you keeping the outfit?” Word count: 1919

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Title: It's Not a Miracle You Need Collaborator(s): UisceOneLove Link: AO3 Square: Y3 - At a Crossroads Rating: Teen Ship(s): James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Major tags/warnings: Post-Endgame, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending Summary: Sitting out on the dock of Tony's lakehouse while the others slept, Steve thought about where he was expected to go from here. It's a good thing Bucky's around to help him see where that can be. Word count: 1584

#buckybarnesbingo2021 #bbb2021 #bbb weekly roundup #bbb week 6 #bbb round three

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sleepy-shutin · 2 years

Note

hi! i think im going thru a self doubt stage rn. im in my 20s and after a traumatic event happened last year around may/june i started to hear voices and dissociate a lot. i already had issues recognizing myself in mirrors and i have no memory of my childhood. i had an instance of two significant voices speaking to me in hs when i also had a mental breakdown but then silence. i dont remember my hs years either except for that part. around may/june a lot of my friends started figuring out they were systems and since i shared so many symptoms like them i figured i am a system. i had a lot of activity a lot of people i interacted in my head until now. its been so quiet and now im doubting. i fear i may have hyperfixated on did/osdd to cope with the traumatic experience in may/june. my bpd is making things worse bc i bonded with the systems and now my doubt and my bpd are making me believe ill lose them all bc now i cant hear anything. im trying to see if there are any mental illnesses that could explain this. bc i have memories of stuff "i" did but i have no connection to. ik you are a rational person and can call out bs and i just want someone elses perspective on this that doesnt know me personally -p

i'll start by saying i'm not a professional and can't diagnose or un-diagnose someone with DID, so i'll give my advice for your situation and what helps me during periods like this, but i can't tell you if you have DID or not.

it's normal for quiet periods to happen even in DID. i've certainly had them, times where i was stable to the point that i haven't switched very often if at all, for days, weeks. one of those periods actually just ended for me as of a couple of days ago, where i started switching more again.

however, one of the best pieces of advice i can give to someone in a situation like yours is to take a step back from system spaces for a while. don't think about the possibility of having a system too much. keep a journal and try to journal as much as possible, but don't focus on who might be fronting or if you're experiencing passive influence, just exist. this is something that ends up showing me that i definitely still have DID in the end, and may help you figure out if you do or don't. take this time to not focus on DID and whether or not you have it, but just to focus on living your life instead, while keeping this journal to talk about your day. if you struggle with dissociative symptoms that make you feel numb or disconnected, or struggle with describing your emotions, you can always journal through the day instead of just once a day, and instead say something like "i went to the mall and i felt good". one thing we also like to do in our private discord server is use reaction images, custom emojis, memes, cursed images, whatever, as well as drawings, to show how we feel if we have trouble describing it in words.

having memories of stuff "you" did with no connection to it is a very normal thing for dissociation as a whole, not just DID. there's a whole category of dissociative disorders that could very well explain your symptoms if it's not DID. there's also the fact that BPD itself contains many similar dissociative symptoms to DID already.

i don't know what (you think) caused these voices to suddenly stop and quiet down, or what you've started/stopped doing that may be causing it, so i'll run through a few options.

if you're having a period that's not very stressful, it's normal to switch less or to have less activity from your system.

if you've experienced a huge stressful period and are calming down from that, this may also cause your system to be less active as one part may need to be in front while the others stay back and dissociative barriers increase.

if you're "frontstuck" it's normal to experience less of your system, or so i've heard.

if you've stopped interacting with system spaces as much and your system went quiet as a result, this may point to your system being socio/psychogenic in some form; i.e. you thought you had DID but it ended up not being that, but as a result of hanging out with a lot of systems/in a lot of system spaces as well as due to misinformation and misunderstanding of DID, you could have mistook normal symptoms of another dissociative disorder or BPD for DID instead.

it's also quite possible you're experiencing symptoms of DID and not noticing them because your perceptions of how DID works causes you to believe it's consistently more overt and hard-cut than it actually is. this is something i've done before as well, so if that's your case, it's likely the result of misinformation and misunderstanding of DID.

in short, it could be a lot of things; stress induced psychotic symptoms causing the hearing of voices that aren't there, a dissociative disorder, BPD, etc. i can't tell you what disorder you may have, but i hope these things can point you in the right direction here.

#-ask #-anon #advice

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painted-crow · 3 years

Text

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 1

I guess I should start with a little about me, since that’s easier than making you pick through previous asks for information and some of you guys are new here. This one’s going to be heavily personal, so you can skip it if you want.

I’m a double Bird. My Bird primary system is heavily Badger influenced, and I also use Lion to support it by telling me when I should investigate something more closely. If we can dip into primary territory for a moment, I guess you can say I understand the world through systems that model things around me. But not all of those systems are things I’ve consciously examined, or fully investigated.

My understanding of how historical people dressed is pretty limited, for example, because I haven’t studied it in depth to get all the information—but I consciously understand what I do know about it. You could say this system piece is tiny but clear; I could expand it if I chose to find out more.

My understanding of how someone I’m not close to thinks might have more data to work with, but I haven’t consciously processed it; that’s the kind of thing where my Lion primary model will tell me to look closer if that person starts acting weird. This system piece might be described as huge but fuzzy; I could clarify it if I sat down and thought about it. I probably have more of these than I realize, but Lion basically takes care of monitoring those. I don’t have to investigate everything.

But some of my systems are both large and fairly clear, because I’ve taken the time both to gather data on them and to examine it. My understanding of myself is… well, I won’t say it’s terribly clear, because I’m in my early twenties and I’m still constantly getting new information, plus someone keeps changing the environment and mucking with my data (that would be me). But I have to examine it, because my brain is like a notoriously buggy piece of software and I’m the poor schmuck saddled with tech support duties.

Basically, the reason I’m good at playing therapist with other people is that I’m constantly doing exactly that thing with myself. (This probably makes me a very annoying patient for actual therapists.)

About that buggy brain, then.

I have major depression. That was professionally diagnosed when I was a teenager and it’s probably genetic. I take medication for it, when I remember to. It especially flares up in the winter or when I’m under stress. I probably have some kind of anxiety disorder too.

I’m almost certainly autistic, which I’ve never brought up with a professional—the first person to figure it out was the system I’m now best friends with, because they’re autistic and they knew I was within two weeks of talking to me. It took me two years to catch up with them and figure it out myself.

In my defense, I thought executive dysfunction, sensory overwhelm, dissociation, and hyperempathy were like… secret menu items for depression, because those only really bug me during depressive episodes. My current theory is that they’re related to autistic burnout instead.

I mask a lot, subconsciously—it’s actually really hard to turn that off normally—and I just can’t do that as much when depressed. If I do, my tolerance for everything else goes way down and I’ll go into overwhelm and start having shutdowns and dissociating. I recover pretty quickly (hours, not days), but if you’ve never spent 15 minutes standing in a Walmart aisle trying to decide whether you want a jar of peanut butter, but you can’t make decisions because you can’t access your emotions and you don’t really feel like you’re “here” but you kind of just want to go home… well, be glad I guess.

Of course, I have other autistic traits that show up when I’m not under stress, but they’re seldom associated with autism because most people don’t know what autis are like when we’re actually happy. Like, hyperlexia? That’s not even an “official” word, the auti community just uses it because “official” literature hasn’t caught up. I taught myself to read at age three (according to my mom; she says I was reading news headlines and stuff, not just books I’d memorized) and wrote a 35k word novella when I was ten, with no external prompting. My audio processing used to be terrible, but I routinely tested at college age reading levels as a kid.

I also might have ADHD? If so, it’s also mostly just noticeable if I’m under stress, and then it’s hard to tell if that’s the issue or if it’s just autism/depression again.

You might be getting a clearer picture of how my secondary and its model end up burnt so often!

(Resisting a very strong urge to cut stuff from this post.)

In short, I was a Gifted Kid. I spent a lot of my teen years biting off more than I could chew, honestly. I felt that I should be able to do more, and I wanted to be taken seriously, but I had basically no idea how to take care of myself because my needs are different from everyone else’s. I’m still figuring those out.

I’m kind of like an orchid plant: incredibly picky about conditions, wants a different “soil” and watering schedule, gets stressed if stuff changes too quickly, but when everything is just right and it does bloom, it goes all out.

I’m not kidding when I say that I have odd needs. One of them is the need for creative work, which seems to be hardwired into me. When I say that art or writing keeps me sane, I often hear back “oh yeah! I’ve heard that can be very therapeutic,” which is an innocuous reply, but it’s always bugged me, and I think I’ve figured out why.

First, because that’s not the reason I make things… I just… have to. Second, I can’t “make up” not doing creative work with some other kind of therapy. Third and most importantly, I’d much rather think of “artist” as my ground state, and depression as a condition that happens when my needs aren’t being met, rather than thinking of depression as the default that I’m just using art to escape from. That seems to me a healthier way of thinking, and probably a more accurate one, but I’m probably the only one who can see that distinction.

If life gets in the way and I can’t make space for creative work, it will actively make my depression worse. I know this because, multiple times, I’ve been unable to pinpoint why I’m feeling shitty, and then I go back to my easel or my writing or (ukulele, cooking, even just taking care of houseplants) and realize I haven’t done anything creative in like a month and thaaaat’s the problem.

I crack open a bottle of gesso to prep some canvases and it smells like… well, I don’t think you can get high off gesso? But it’s not like when you’re out of it on painkillers or cold medicine or whatever. It’s incredibly grounding, like the world snaps back into focus but it’s also oddly euphoric. Or I write ten thousand words in a couple days and it just… I don’t know what that does. I’ve never run across a word for it.

The writer of Smile at Strangers (a really good memoir centered around women, anxiety, and karate) describes a similar feeling in relation to her martial arts practice.

It’s also a bit like when all the snow melts after winter and you step outside and there’s the smell of wet soil under sunlight and I’m not sure if this fully translates for people who don’t have seasonal depression. Sorry.

Dammit, I want to paint… I haven’t had space to set up for like eight months. I’ve been nose-deep in writing projects since last summer for a reason, but right now my friggin Ravenclaw secondary is off angsting about something because of Life Stress Bullshit, and I don’t have the focus to work on any of my writing projects. Apart from this one. But it’s not really what I want in terms of creative work.

*velociraptor screech*

Oh, yeah. I guess I could mention this is why my nickname is Paint. Not sure if that was obvious before. The header image (which is more visible in the app for some reason) is one of my paintings. It’s a tiny one and it’s not one of my favorites, but I had the photo on my phone and the colors work well enough for what I needed.

(restrains self from negging my own painting ability)

This is starting to get into spoiler territory for what burned Ravenclaw secondary looks like, huh? It’s peaced out for a couple weeks at this point. I’m trying to write about what made it take off, but my ability to think of words and form a coherent sentence kinda flew out the window when I approached it directly.

Let’s just say that around the start of the month, someone I was talking to online (if you’re reading this, it’s definitely not you) kindaaaa hit a nasty depression trigger of mine. Not their fault—it’s very specific to me, and I struggle to explain why I can’t really talk about it. Basically, I spent years studying programming and web design, and due to several different but related issues during that experience, it’s now a trigger for me. I very much want it not to be, but trying to train that out of myself has induced more than one panic attack and I’m stuck between giving up on it or figuring out a way to go back to it that doesn’t totally shut my brain down.

That paragraph took forever to write, by the way.

I think I have to end this here. I… am going to go take out the trash, and water my plants, and make my bed, and file some paperwork, and maybe I’ll even mix up some bread dough or do some laundry. Spoiler alert for what it looks like when my Hufflepuff model takes over, I guess.

Oh. And I should maybe probably eat something. I almost forgot about that... again.

#sortinghatchats #time to overshare on the internet i guess #secondary toast revolving door #mental health #burned ravenclaw secondary #hufflepuff secondary model #ravenclaw primary #paint speaks

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mooncruiser · 3 years

Photo

Heyy!! I’ve been meaning to pin my testimony, so here it is :)

So, my life wasn’t really the greatest growing up. I mention C-PTSD in my bio, and that’s what I’ll get into a bit. I’ll try not to be too graphic, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be totally safe.

There were some questionable things in my toddler years, a neglectful daycare center for 3 months, my dad being in and out of my life due to fear of getting attached at first, him flying off the handle once with me (my mom got on him for it, so it never happened again) but I think the trauma started with my cousins leaving me stuck out in a baby swing twice, a near death experience with a dog bite, and a homicidal attempt on me and my mom by my sister, who was 16 at the time (I’m 5 years old).

There was also the dog cage incident I believe at…6 years old? Me and my brother were playing and he forgot me on accident. I pretty much accepted at this point that life was gonna chain me up and try to kill me lol, but it let up for a good while, and I had a pretty decent childhood. At 9 years old, there was the torturously loud school program in the gym I had to sit through for 2 hours, I think.

It was at 10 when things became chronically ongoing. Domestic violence at home from my sister (physical, emotional abuse on me and my family), more physical and emotional abuse at school from my assistant teacher because I was on an IEP for my autism. At 11, I was sexually abused by my female friend who was 12, and her female cousin, who was 13. I was abandoned by my cousins and aunt, and I was being placed in a seclusion room at school during standardized tests (which was sensory deprived solitary confinement) even after I was finished for the day. At 12 years old, I started being emotionally neglected by my mother.

I mean, I was so angry and depressed and secretly suicidal at 10, but by 12 I was severely dissociating (I had been dissociating during trauma at various times prior). I had so much fear and anxiety that by the time I was 13 I’d be feeling like passing out 24/7, so I got on meds, which only helped the more severe physical symptoms, I guess.

At 13, I started being groomed by this high school girl that liked me. She was a Sophomore, and I was in 7th grade. She noticed the neglect and told me she knew me better. She would give me gifts, teach me to ship gay pairings, gave me a gay pedophilic manga. Shamelessly told me she had sexual relations with her male cousin and his friends who were around my age. I blocked it out.

I also had a very abusive friendship with a girl online who had BPD. My assistant teacher, who came with me to middle school, restrained and tortured me with the marching band’s loud music in the hallway, which only intensified my dissociative symptoms (I was actually switching alters at this point regularly and having no idea).

I remember at 13 being confused about my gender and sexuality. My mom was no help and just wanted me to hide it from my family and everyone else, for reputation purposes and she didn’t want me bullied. That was actually how I decided to get in contact with my grooming abuser, which I wonder at this point whether that was my fault. I didn’t expect her to really take over like she did, but I was essentially brainwashed into accepting whatever I was feeling for her benefit. I just wanted advice and a friend.

I was so lonely, I had been desperate for friends for years, and I was desperate for someone to love me in any way, honestly. I was overeating. I’d spend hours daydreaming, in video games or entertainment to escape from school and everything else. During meltdowns, I’d be doing self injurious behaviors.

So by 14, I come out as a lesbian. Had a couple relationships with girls who just saw me as a sexual object (I remember saying yes to sexual things even though I didn’t want to, just so that they wouldn’t abandon me. Dissociating off and finding it disgusting), would cheat on me with multiple people, ignore me for new friends, etc.

The BPD friend I dated, when I broke up with her, immediately attempted suicide so that scarred me more into our trauma bond. She’d show me self harm pics she took from time to time. It scared me into making sure I didn’t trigger her again, but u know I never knew what triggered her in the first place, so, like with everything else, I had no strategy to life. It was either fight, run, dissociate or nod yes to everything. She took up the latter lol.

I came out as trans my Freshman year, and stayed that way into my Sophomore year. I was bitter about dating because of the whole sexual object thing, and full of shame at the same time, thinking no one would want me. I thought I was asexual. I tried out a career high school honestly just to get away from the memories of my old school.

Some feelings about being trans started to fade, but not entirely, so I went by genderfluid/genderqueer from 17-19. I was excited to make new friends at my new school, but my anxiety kept me from it. I opened up very awkwardly about my dating history to one girl (which tbh I shouldn’t have, but I had been brainwashed so lol) and she told all the girls in my lab, and I was excluded and bullied (and cyberbullied) from thereon.

I didn’t know it at first, it was so subtle. But once I knew, I tried standing up for myself and told the principal, which made them leave me alone for the most part. They’d glare at me, use me at graduation, cyberbully me one last time 8 months after graduation, and that was it. I still had to deal with domestic violence until I was 22, but once I graduated everything pretty much hit me.

I knew I’d be too stressed out to go to college or work. School indoctrination tried to teach me to be neurotypical and expect this, but it wasn’t happening. I was too afraid to leave my house for a year, and too afraid to be honest online for fear of being watched and bullied, or stalked. I was seriously considering suicide down the line. I thought I had nothing left to live for. I was useless. Nobody cared. Friends moved on to their new lives and I was dying.

That’s when Jesus stepped in.

I guess I started being curious about God again for the first time since I was 12. I always believed in God, was grateful to Him for being there for me during the domestic violence and never blamed Him for it. I found out about worship music and was thrilled, and a question came up. Was being gay a sin? My grooming abuser taught me that God made me gay, so it was alright. But I wanted to know for sure this time from the Word.

To my surprise, she was wrong. The Bible said it was indeed, a sin (the practice, not so much the identity aspect). I couldn’t piece together why, so I struggled with it for months. On my 20th birthday however, when I got done creating fanart of a gay pairing, I felt strongly convicted by the Holy Spirit that it was wrong. So I went to God.

I said, “If it is wrong, please change me so I can make You happy, because I love You. In the meantime, I won’t do anything in support of it for a while. If it’s not wrong, don’t change me, and I’ll know which way is right because I trust You.” When I look back on it, it was a pretty crazy prayer. Lots of people have said they couldn’t “pray the gay away”, and I do wonder what the difference was with me.

After 3 months, I stopped to check if I still felt anything, and the feelings were gone. My gender dysphoria was gone, too. I was way too afraid to tell anybody yet, but I remember when I did, one of the first people I told was my grooming abuser.

She was livid, tried one last time to intimidate me. Another time we crossed paths (she came out of nowhere saying hi, said she worked at that market, complimented me and walked away smiling) and I was triggered, I messaged her and told her how she hurt me and I couldn’t bear to be around her anymore, but I hoped she’d have a good life. She didn’t respond online, but she complained to my sister that I thought she was a predator, and by the end of the conversation tries to get her to tell me she said hi. When she had kids, she was planning on raising them to be nonbinary. Her husband was abusive to them, so she ended up losing them. She never bugged me again.

I was blown away by how God had changed me. How He opened my eyes to the truth. I prayed for Him to open my eyes to whatever else I had been blind to, and He slowly began lifting off the amnesia surrounding all my traumas, urging me towards recovery with Him. I realized I might have OSDD-1b recently as well, which is strange that I could have possibly had DID prior to losing my amnesia?

I have been on this journey ever since, journaling, blogging, researching, and finally in a wonderful therapy called EMDR where I truly release the traumas from my body, hear God’s new positive beliefs to replace old negative ones from my childhood, and experience loving extraordinary visions while processing that teach me to focus on Jesus, trust Him more, love and pray for my enemies, and have a real satisfying relationship with Him that’s unattainable with anyone on Earth, along with daily Bible study.

The picture on the left was me at 16 in my old life, the one on the right is me in my new creation :) God bless all of you, thank you for reading this far 💕💖

#testimony #long post

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im-sad-lets-have-sex · 3 years

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Fifty (50)Toxic People Quotes To Help You Develop Boundaries .

If you’ve recognized you need to set limits with people in your life, these toxic people quotes will help you do just that.

We all have toxic people in our lives who can’t be avoided. It could be a friend, family member, or a coworker whom you just can’t stand.

Their toxicity manifests in a lot of different ways. Maybe they are full of interpersonal issues, are needy and disrespectful, or maybe they try to manipulate and control you, and are extremely critical of themselves and other people. Whatever the case, dealing with toxic people isn’t easy.

If you are often made uncomfortable by how those around you treat you, maybe it’s time to set and maintain personal boundaries. Clear boundaries that will help ensure your relationships are mutually respectful, supportive and caring. You deserve to be treated well.

It’s time to establish boundaries in your life for negative people, and these toxic people quotes are the necessary first step. They will inspire you to set the limits for acceptable behavior from those around you and help you avoid getting too close to people who don’t have your best interests at heart.

Toxic people can only upset you if you let them upset you. Recognize and distance yourself from their behavior. And when interacting with them, focus on the positive.

Below is our collection of inspirational, wise, and thoughtful, toxic people quotes, toxic people sayings, and toxic people proverbs, collected from a variety of sources over the years.

Toxic People Quotes To Help You Develop Boundaries

1.) “If it comes, let it come. If it goes, it’s ok, let it go. Let things come and go. Stay calm, don’t let anything disturb your peace, and carry on.” ― Germany Kent

2,) “It’s amazing how quickly things can turn around when you remove toxic people from your life.” — Robert Tew

3.) “You create more space in your life when you turn your excess baggage to garbage.” ― Chinonye J. Chidolue

4.) “Pay no attention to toxic words. What people say is often a reflection of themselves, not you.” ― Christian Baloga

5.) “Letting go of toxic people in your life is a big step in loving yourself.” – Hussein Nishah

6.) “Don’t let toxic people infect you with the fearof giving and receiving one of the most powerful forces in this world… LOVE!”― Yvonne Pierre

7.) “Don’t let negative and toxic people rent space in your head. Raise the rent and kick them out.” — Robert Tew

8.) “You lift your spirits by moving away from what upsets you. If the stove is hot, you can’t ask how to touch it but be happy about it.” ― Queen Tourmaline

9.) “If a person finds negative people in his life, then he needs to mend his own nature than that of others, for his own basic grounding decides the level of acidic or toxicity surrounding him.” — Anuj Somany

10.) “Toxic people will pollute everything around them. Don’t hesitate. Fumigate.” ― Mandy Hale

Toxic people quotes to inspire healthy self-respect

11.) “There’s folks you just don’t need. You’re better off without em. Your life is just a little better because they ain’t in it.” ― William Gay

12.) “There are people who break you down by just being them. They need not do anything. Dissociate” ― Malebo Sephodi

13.) “Every day you must unlearn the ways that hold you back. You must rid yourself of negativity, so you can learn to fly.” — Leon Brown

14.) “We all have those toxic people around us that make our lives miserable… The day we take them out from our lives, we will all become better people; including them…” ― Rodolfo Peon

15.) “Letting go doesn’t mean that you don’t care about someone anymore. It’s just realizing that the only person you really have control over is yourself.” — Deborah Reber

16.) “How you choose to feel today should not be dependent on others.” ― Anthon St. Maarten

17.) “May you reach that level within, where you no longer allow your past or people with toxic intentions to negatively affect or condition you.” ― Lalah Delia

18.) “Surround yourself with positive people who believe in your dreams, encourage your ideas, support your ambitions, and bring out the best in you.” — Roy Bennett

19.) “Let negative people live their negative lives with their negative minds.”― Moosa Rahat

20.) “Toxic people attach themselves like cinder blocks tied to your ankles, and then invite you for a swim in their poisoned waters.” ― John Mark Green

Quotes about toxic friends, family and relationships

21.) “As you remove toxic people from your life, you free up space and emotional energy for positive, healthy relationships.” ― John Mark Green

22.) “I have found the best way to deal with a toxic person is to not respond in any other way than monotone voice and a businesslike manner.” ― Jen Grice

23.) “Weeding out the harmful influences should become the norm not the exception.” ― Carlos Wallace

24.) “You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy. So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.” — C. JoyBell C.

25.) “We teach people how to treat us.” – Dr. Phil

26.) “Sometimes it’s better to end something & try to start something new than imprison yourself in hoping for the impossible.” – Karen Salmansohn

27.) “People appear like angels until you hear them speak. You must not rush to judge people by the color of their cloaks, but by the content of their words!” ― Israelmore Ayivor

28.) “Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too can become great.” — Mark Twain

29.) “Look around you at the people you spend the most time with and realize that your life can’t rise any higher than your friendships.” ― Mandy Hale

30.) “Stop letting people who do so little for you control so much of your mind, feelings, and emotions.” — Will Smith

Toxic people quotes to help you set and maintain boundaries

31.) “When people pressure you to engage in negative decisions and actions, look at them boldly in the eyes and dare them to do good.” ― Edmond Mbiaka

32.) “Don’t ever stop believing in your own transformation. It is still happening even on days you may not realize it or feel like it.” ― Lalah Delia

33.) “Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.” — Dr. Steve Maraboli

34.) “If a negative viewer looks at you with an ugly fiendish eye, find a way and pluck off his eyes, or better still, protect your good image.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson

35.) “People inspire you, or they drain you. Pick them wisely.” — Hans F. Hasen

36.) “Save your skin from the corrosive acids from the mouths of toxic people. Someone who just helped you to speak evil about another person can later help another person to speak evil about you.” ― Israelmore Ayivor

37.) “I will not allow anyone to walk in my mind with dirty feet.” – Mahatma Gandhi

38.) “Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.” ― Kamand Kojouri

39.) “We do not have to be mental health professionals to identify the traits of the possible sociopaths among us.” ― P.A. Speers

40.) “These are the attributes of Bullshit people; they will…blur your imagination, take your endowments for a piece of debris, make you ridiculous, and most importantly, you got to send them to the recycle bin.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson

Toxic people quotes to help you deal with negativity

41.) “Don’t let people get the best of you they can say what they want but don’t let that distract you from achieving your goals.” ― Alcurtis Turner

42.) “Until you let go of all the toxic people in your life you will never be able to grow into your fullest potential. Let them go so you can grow.” – DLQ

43.) “The friends who would forsake you for choosing to live a positive life, would also leave you if you find yourself going through some painful consequences due to some negative decisions and actions.” ― Edmond Mbiaka

44.) “You cannot expect to live a positive life if you hang with negative people.” — Joel Osteen

45.) “We don’t get to choose our family, but we can choose our friends. With courage, we can weed out narcissistic people. We can focus on those who do appreciate us, love us, and treat us with respect.” ― Dana Arcuri

46.) “If they do it often, it isn’t a mistake; it’s just their behavior.” — Dr. Steve Maraboli

47.) “My encouragement: delete the energy vampires from your life, clean out all complexity, build a team around you that frees you to fly, remove anything toxic, and cherish simplicity. Because that’s where genius lives.” — Robin S. Sharma

48.) “Someone who smiles too much with you can sometime frown too much with you at your back.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson

49.) “It is really exhausting to live in a dictatorship of ‘Me’, which is basically a tyranny of others.” ― Stefan Molyneux

50.) “Let go of negative people. They only show up to share complaints, problems, disastrous stories, fear, and judgment on others. If somebody is looking for a bin to throw all their trash into, make sure it’s not in your mind.” – Dalai Lama

Which of these toxic people quotes was your favorite?

Sometimes you find yourself with a friend, family member, or a partner who is really difficult to get along with. When you’re around them, you feel degraded or manipulated. Dealing with such people is never easy so you should find ways to tune out the toxicity that can’t be avoided.

Don’t invest too much time or effort with toxic people. They don’t deserve your mental energy. Hopefully, the toxic people quotes above will help you deal with such negative people.

How did you find these toxic people quotes? Do you have any other inspirational quotes to add to the list? Let us know in the comment section below. Also, don’t forget to share with your friends and followers.