#i basically just dissociated the entire time and even though i'm feeling better now the degree to which i was out of it was really yikes

[heavenhealy]

genre: smut, a bit of angst, porn with a bit of plot, professor!matty x grad student!reader, dom!matty x sub!reader, fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: As a final year graduate student, its not always easy to come across people outside of your department who care about your research. When the handsome new philosophy professor takes interest, it seems too good to be true. And when he expresses his interest in you, you can't comprehend how lucky you are.

warnings: this is mature content so please do not go below the cut if you're uncomfy or under the age of 18! specific warnings include: swearing, discussion of an age gap but not a huge one, public sex (in an office w a locked door but still), unprotected sex (literally just don't be like them), spanking, hair pulling, praise, degradation, dirty talk, stereotypical professor things, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving)

an: I had a dream about professor!Matty once so here we are. also as always be aware that this was not proof read so there will likely be typos at some points lol also I know the ending is lame but I'm sleepy and couldn't think of anything better

You click through the slides of your presentation: all 45 of them in the same dull academic black and white format. The graphs and charts you've spent hours creating and perfecting are the only splashes of color. It's another day in another empty classroom with no windows, the slate grey tables and ergonomic chairs devoid of any sign of life as you clear your throat up at the wooden podium.

For as many times as you'd rehearsed this presentation you still get nervous, stuttering over your introduction slide as you start the timer to track how long it takes.

Your voice sounds monotone even to your own ears as you zone out, eyes unfocused as you gesture at the table of data derived from your near year of research. You're so dissociated that you think maybe you're seeing things when you catch a glimpse of dark hair edging into the door frame. You frown but keep talking, explaining your research methods the way you advisor has suggested makes the most sense even though everyone who will be listening is within your department anyway.

When your eyes skirt back to the doorway, you know you aren't sleep deprived enough to be hallucinating an entire man, leaning against the frame of the door, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he scans your slide. You stutter over your words, stunned to see anyone there, let alone someone who seems so interested in your research.

"Uh, um, can I help you?" The mans eyes widen, snapping to your face, scanning you up and down quickly. You shamelessly do the same: skirting your eyes down the chunky knit sweater and loose fit trousers as you try to decipher the lines of the body they're hiding.

"Yeah, sorry, I just happened to be walking by-" the timber of his voice makes you shiver and you feel your heart flutter, spit becoming embarrassingly thick in your mouth.

"Anyway, this is really interesting, Miss..." he quirks an eyebrow as he waits for your name: and that's when it hits you. He must be a professor from another department, and a fairly new one at that.

"Y/N. Just Y/N. I'm not old enough to be a 'miss' yet." You feel your face heating as you speak and the mystery man inches further into the room so he's only a mere few feet away from you. It's still a respectable distance, but now you can see the streaks of gray running through the edges of his curls and you feel like your feet have been swept out from under you.

"Okay then, Y/N." He runs his tongue over the top row of his teeth and hums thoughtfully. "I'm Professor Matty Healy, I just started over in philosophy." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder and you nod, vaguely aware of where the building is. "And this is clearly out of my depth-" he gestures at the big screen, "I nearly failed my basic science courses. But this is really something."

You flush, not only at his attention but at the fact that he's complementing your research- that someone in a completely different department finds your work fascinating.

"O-oh, thanks, a lot of it is only good because of Professor Cannari, my advisor."

"I'll be sure to pass along my admiration to him, then." He stalls, hands rubbing down the fabric of his pants. "Well, I've got to go. Good luck practicing, Y/N." He salutes you as if he were in the army as he leaves and you can barely suppress the giggle until he leaves the room. Your heart swells, presentation suddenly forgotten as you scramble for your phone, scrambling to text your roommates about the sexy new philosophy professor.

----

The high from meeting Professor Healy had worn off by the next time you were set to meet with Professor Cannari. You had debated even canceling this meeting since you were up to your eyeballs in other course work and job applications; but the idea of the sweet elderly man and his bowl of candy waiting for you to show up made you cave. You trudge up to his office, the musty scent that permeates the building making your nostrils flare. Cannari is waiting, as he always is, behind his large desk. His old laptop whirs loudly but his boisterous voice booms over it as he welcomes you in.

"Ah, Y/N! I'm happy to see you!" You sit without being prompted. "Do you have anything specific you want to go over? Any issues with your presentation?" You shake your head, suddenly exhausted at the talk of your research again.

"Not really. I haven't changed anything since the last meeting, I've just been practicing the presentation." Professor Cannari nods, seemingly pleased by your work.

"Good. I do have something that I think will interest you," you cock an eyebrow, curious and a bit scared of what the old man could have cooked up. He clicks a few times on his laptop before squinting and leaning into the screen as if to assure he was looking at the correct thing.

"I've got an email from a Professor...Healy?" Your stomach bottoms out at the sound of his name. "Anywho, he tells me he saw you practicing your presentation and was very impressed," your advisor smiles to himself, "and he says that he'd like to offer you some philosophical theories that may help your presentation do better. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

You swallow hard, mind spinning as you try to decipher what was happening right now.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't know where his office is or-" Professor Cannari is already writing something down on a post it note in his scratchy hand writing. He hands you the neon green paper with Professor Healy's office number on it. Your advisor provides you a warm smile and waves you out of his office.

You hover in the hallway of the office, paper trembling in your hand. Do you go now? Do you go in a few days? Do you go at all? There's nothing inherently bad about going; in fact it will likely be super beneficial to your presentation as a whole. And is that not the whole point of going to grad school? Being able to gather information outside of your discipline to make your research stand out?

Dumbly, you look down at your outfit- a pair of well worn jeans, a simple black cropped tank top overlayed by a gray zip up hoodie. Fuck it. There's no point into deluding yourself into thinking this would be anything more than an office hours meeting. Your feet move before you can second guess yourself.

Before you know it you're crossing the threshold into the philosophy building, wandering dumbly until you find a stairwell to lead you up to the correct floor. You check the number obsessively once you're in the long, eerily empty hallway, and at the very end, wedged into an oddly shaped corner of the building is his office. You can tell he's new just from the lack of decorations on the door and bulletin board just outside of it. Simply just a name tag is displayed underneath the room number. You feel stupid for how fast your heart races as you knock.

It only now occurred to you that you didn't know his office hours, and it was possible he was teaching or not even on campus at all. You almost turn your back to leave as the realization hits you, but the door gently swings open. Professor Healy peeps through the crack in the door, seemingly afraid of what he would see on the other side. When he sees it's you his face softens and the door swings open wider.

"Y/N," he breathes your name and you shiver, eyes falling down to his chest, where the top two buttons of his silky button down shirt are undone. You swallow harshly and force what you hope is a comfortable smile.

"If you aren't busy...I heard you wanted to meet with me?" You try your best to curb the smile creeping onto your face as he gestures you in, hair falling around his face like a halo. His office is everything that you'd expected-even though he was newer to the job, his oak bookshelves are teeming with philosophy texts and a few plants half-dead in their pots. His desk takes center stage as it's surprisingly grand and tidy, the shiny wooden top reflecting the light from overhead in oblong circles. Only one notebook and one stack of what looks like exams exist neatly next to his desktop computer.

"Ah," he clears his throat when he sees you staring, "feel free to sit, I'm afraid it's not the most comfortable chair but the one I want is on backorder." You sit anyway, charmed just by the easy drawl of his voice. He takes his place directly across from you in a cushy, high-backed chair that genuinely looks fit for royalty. Your stomach stirs with arousal when he shakes his curls from his eyes and leans forward, elbows on the desk.

"Can I ask you something?" You shiver, involuntarily shaken by his question. He doesn't wait for you to respond before continuing: "Why do you seem so disinterested in your research?"

You're stunned at how forward he is but a piece of you loosens, suddenly relaxed when you realize the academic front you put up in front of everyone else can be dissolved here.

"I'm just tired of it," you slouch into your chair, matching his soulful gaze. "I've spent the last 5 years of my life researching and refining this presentation and all I ever do is present to people within my field who already know all of this shit, or even are cited in my paper anyway, and it's just so exhausting to say and think all the same things over and over. And what do I get out of this other than a job?" You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly self conscious at how forthcoming and unprofessional you're being with a professor.

"Sorry, that was a lot. And you clearly liked my stuff enough to contact Cannari and ask to meet with me, so, sorry Professor Healy." You shrug and offer him what you hope will be a soothing smile. He doesn't retreat from his spot but actually leans further toward you and only then do you realize that you had leaned closer to him as well. "You can just call me Matty, please." He offers a sweet smile that makes you agree, and the amount of familiarity just being told to use his first name gives you makes you giddy.

"What..." he swallows, "What do you want? From your life?" You catch a whiff of his cologne with him this close and you can do nothing but scan his face stupidly: eyes flitting between his plush lips and his eyes. Arousal stirs in your stomach the more you stare at him, and you force yourself to look away before you melt into the chair. You start to piece something together in your mind when Professor Healy shakes his head, inhaling sharply.

"It's okay if you don't know, Y/N. I don't know what I want from my life either, even though I have the big fancy job.” He stops, fingers drumming against the top of his desk, just inches away from your body. "But I know what I want right now."

Your stomach lurches with sudden nerves and you’re sure that your face is flushed red as you watch the mesmerizing way his tongue darts across his lower lip, wetting the pink flesh. Surely letting your mind run away to all the nasty places it wants to is going to do nothing to soothe the heat but you can’t find it in you to stop.

“Y/N?” Matty’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain like a knife. Sheepishly you glance back at him and just seems so large that your reply dies in your throat, mouth hung open.

“I asked you a question. Cat got your tongue?” He smiles slyly as he glances down to your mouth and you feel an unbidden rush of arousal in your stomach.

“S-sorry Professor Healy, I- just. Um." His steely gaze cuts you as you slowly realize your mistake. "Matty. What do you want right now? I’m not sure how much help I can actually be, but I can-“

“What I want right now-“ he speaks over you and you still, fingernails digging into the leather arms of your chair. “Is for you to look at me.” He pauses and you realize he means for you to obey him now, so you do. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own, his intense gaze flicking between your pupils and your lips. Satisfied, he speaks again. “Good. And now I need you to be fully, completely honest with me. I’ll know if you aren’t.” You nod automatically, all thoughts except how purely sexy he looks right now abandoning your brain. A smile splits his face and a surge of joy at making him happy runs through you.

“Are you aware how badly I want you?” His voice thickens and you shiver, the confusion and elation rushing in. There was no way this was real, there had to be someone testing you or playing a trick to expose your most depraved desire.

“You do?” You hate how surprised you sound but who could blame you: the new professor with his bouncy curls and tattooed chest interested in both your research and also apparently you?

Suddenly he’s moving, standing from his grand chair to lean against the desk on your side, just inches from you. He cocks his head and that deadly stare penetrates you as he shamelessly looks you up and down, eyes focused just a second too long on the place where your breasts swell out of your tank top.

“I do.” He nods as if he’d just agreed with your assessment of a news topic, but the way his hands flex on the top of his thighs draws your eyes right to his crotch: the telling bulge of the beginning of a hard on just there. All inhibitions rush out of you at the sight, you calm the shake in your hands and grasp at his own, resting just inches away from his cock.

“Is the door locked?” Your voice is husky but he seems to appreciate it as a breathy exhale passes his lips while he nods. The noise sparks arousal between your thighs, the seam of your jeans teasing your clit just enough to make your head spin a bit when your thighs press together. You stay locked into your chair, sincerely afraid that if you stood your knees would give out, but you trail your fingers up to the waistband of his trousers.

“Is this okay?” His pretty curls crowd around his face as he peers down at you and nods, moving his own hands out of the way to allow you all the room you want. You ignore the way your fingers tremble with the button and unhook it, the sound of the zipper startling in the otherwise silent room.

His cock is straining against his boxers and you can't help the pride that washes over your body.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous." His voice grits out as you trace your fingers over the outline of his cock, enamored by the heat radiating from his body. His hips jump, pressing further into your touch with impatience.

"Fucking take 'em off." Your eyes flit up to his face, scrunched with concentration as he undoes the buttons on his shirt until it's completely open, torso bared to your hungry eyes. All of his hidden tattoos come to light and you feel yourself salivate. He gives you a pointed look and you spring into action, pulling his boxers down to his thighs. Your breath leaves you as his cock is bared to you, hardening by the second as you take in the sight of him.

"You're fucking huge," the words fall out of your mouth before you can even think about filtering them, but all he does is laugh, smoothing a hand over the crown of your head.

"And you're fucking sinful." The praise goes straight to your head as you cup his cock, immediately tracing the vein along the bottom with your fingertip. The urge to have him in your mouth is insane but you stick with what you've started: the feather light touches across the smoothed, warm skin in addicting patterns until Matty snaps, grasping your wrist.

"I'm glad you're having fun, love, but if you don't start getting to work I'm gonna have to do it myself. And I don't think either of us want that, do we?" Your face blanches at the idea of him leaving, and you shake your head, redoubling your efforts by adding your second hand into the mix. Stroking his cock quickly becomes addicting, as all of his pretty moans and whines bounce off of the walls in his office and you can gaze up at him despite the hand in your hair to see the way his neck flexes as you pleasure him. His cock twitches and swells in your hand and a fresh wave of arousal sticks to your underwear, making you drive a hand between your legs in a desperate attempt for some relief. Matty's hand in your hair tightens as he sees you make this move and he tuts.

"Off of it, now, pretty girl." Matty's voice shakes as he extracts himself from your touch. You whine at the loss of his cock but soon your line of sight is full of his handsome face. Matty has crouched right in front of you, lips bitten raw from his efforts of trying not to cum. You feel your eyes soften at how pretty he looks with rosy cheeks and you lean forward on pure instinct, seeking the press of his lips on your own. Matty catches on easily and matches your eagerness by capturing your lips ferociously; tasting faintly like minty gum and coffee and you moan at this fantasy come to life. You cling to his bare shoulders like your life depends on it, fingernails digging into the planes of his back as he licks between your lips, tongue dancing around your mouth as he steals your breath.

Matty nips at your bottom lip, and then one of his hands is diving between your thighs to press up against the heat at the seam of your jeans. You gasp out a moan at the feeling of finally being touched even if through the thick barrier of denim.

"Fucking soaking your jeans, love," Matty growls against your lips, his dextrous thumb pressed directly over your clit. You squirm in the chair, chest heaving as your nerve endings light up, feeling so hot that you could crawl out of your skin.

"F-fuck, Matty." You take matters into your own hands and strip yourself of your sweatshirt. He chuckles darkly, eyes darting up from between your legs as he licks his lips sinfully.

"Feeling a little hot there? Should I take these jeans off of you and help you cool down?" His fingers are already at the button but you keen and agree with a vicious nod. The brief touch of his fingers against your stomach makes you whimper, impatient beyond belief for him to rid you of the restrictive denim.

"I've got you, don't worry, 'm right here." Matty soothes you as he shimmies your jeans off. He places a gentle kiss against the inside of one knee, then the other, and you feel anticipation bubble in your stomach as he digs his thumbs into the flesh of your thighs, dragging them apart. His eyes widen at the visible confirmation of your wetness slicking your underwear in a dark stain.

"Please," you find yourself begging already even though Matty shows no sign of slowing down as he rids you of your underwear as well. Already kneeling, Matty simply leans forward until he's mere inches away from your pussy. The ends of his strands of hair tickle the tops of your thighs and goosebumps erupt. Matty parts your thighs until your knees are hooked over the arms of the chair and you remain fully exposed to him.

"Look at that..." his fingers trail your inner thighs and your body twitches. "Prettiest pussy on the prettiest little slut I've ever seen." He eyes you carefully to catch your reaction to the nickname and you feel your whole body glow at the filthy words. Matty grins before swiftly returning his thumb to your clit, this time bare. The shock of his sudden touch sends you spiraling toward pleasure, mind blanking of all coherent thought as he draws tight circles around the bud. You grasp onto his hair for an anchor as he doubles down, pushing his face between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit and his tongue parts your lips, lapping up the wetness with a pattern you can't figure out how to track. His stubble scratches the inside of your thighs as he laps at you, flitting his tongue between your folds. Your hips buck forward and your legs clamp around his head, desperate to be sure that he wouldn't go anywhere. Matty chuckles against your pussy and you can feel it radiating through you. You shiver, stomach contracting as you pull his hair so hard you feel like you might take some of it out.

An oncoming train of pleasure barrels towards you as Matty returns his lips to your clit, sucking ferverntly until you cry, warning him that you're coming. Your mind soars as you come, surely soaking his face as he makes no attempt to slow down or pull back as your hips stutter against his face.

Tears collect at your chin as your body settles, overwhelmed and satisfied. Matty resurfaces, chin and lips soaked with the sheen of your release. He licks his lips as he sees you refocus onto the real world. Matty helps to ease your legs down from the arms of the chair and the simple intimacy makes you dizzy with glee.

"You taste so good, by the way," Matty drones as his eyes sparkle with mischief. He stands, cock bobbing along with his movements and your pussy throbs in spite of the fact that you literally just came moments before. You can't tear your eyes away from it, the reddened head leaking translucent rivulets of precum. Images of his cock pulsing while he ate you out invade your mind and you whine, launching yourself off of the chair with the need to be closer to him.

Matty chuckles as you latch yourself around him, pressing your body into the heat of him, feeling the press of his cock against your stomach. Your forehead sticks to his chest with the perspiration and you're slightly surprised that Matty places a kiss to the top of your head, crossing his arms around you and massaging your lower back in big soothing circles.

"Are you done for the day? All worn out?" His voice is soft and gentle despite the way his cock stirs as his hands drift to your ass, gently massaging the flesh there.

"You're too sweet," you lift your head until your chin is resting on his chest, looking up at his flushed face. The softness of his eyes makes your insides liquify. "Thought you'd be some big, scary, dominant professor..." you distract him with your words as you slip a hand between the two of you to brush the head of his cock. Matty groans, squeezing your ass harder at the confirmation that you certainly were not done for the day.

"Well I am quite big, as you said before, and as far as scary and dominant..." a sly grin splits his face and before you can deliver a new quip he's maneuvering you until you're bent over the glossy top of his massive desk. It's cold even through the fabric of your cropped tank top that you still had on, and your nipples pebble immediately. You can't see Matty so you still and try to focus your ears to hear any signs of what he was up to.

Matty's fingers ghost over your ass again, tracing over the curve that connects it to your thighs. Shivers wrack down your spine as you anticipate his next touch.

"You'd like me to be more dominant? Harder on you?" Matty's voice ghosts over the shell of your ear and you whine, hips squirming as you feel him pressed up against your back. "Need to be put in your place by a fucking professor at your school?" You nod vigorously, arousal making you pliant to his whispers.

His body heat leaves you and you whine, begging for him not to go.

"Fuck, needy little slut, huh? I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. Can't quit this pussy and I haven't even been in it." His voice has thickened even more than you thought possible and its enough to make you spread your legs, exposing your pussy to the cold air and his hungry eyes.

You're going crazy not being able to see him, so you lift your head and turn toward him. His face tightens when he sees you, and with no reluctance he rears back his hand and smacks one of your ass cheeks. The shock makes you still and silent, followed quickly by a body wide tingle of arousal that has a long loud moan falling from your lips.

"I didn't fucking ask you to move, did I? All you've got to do is lay there and take it and you can't even do that." He tuts but at the same time soothes the pads of his calloused fingers over the handprint he left behind.

"S-sorry, I just wanted to see you." The words come out choppy and stunted as you feel his hand leave you, anticipating another slap.

"Take this like a good girl and then you can see me all you want, okay?" Just moments after your agreement slips into the air Matty is landing twin spanks on each cheek, harder than the first. Your body reacts astronomically, your body heat soaring as you wiggle against the desk, surely leaking onto the pristine wood.

Matty praises you even as you wiggle, admiring the movement of your ass while you try to chase the friction you're looking for. Your legs spread wider as you hear him mutter curses under his breath.

"Please, Matty, please-Ineedyouttodomore, please," you feel like your brain is running away from you, maybe it was back in the entrance to the philosophy building, waiting for you to pick it back up when you're done. Emboldened by your begging, Matty spanks each of your cheeks again in a new spot, sure to cover your whole ass in his hand prints.

Matty shushes you, petting over the surely reddened marks on your ass-your newest and most prized possessions. "You've done so lovely for me, enjoying letting me spank your cute little ass." Matty sounds slightly farther away but you pay it no mind as your body goes onto pleasure autopilot. Your clit throbs, eyes glassy and unfocused as you listen to the whispered affirmations falling from Matty's lips.

"Hey, pretty girl." His voice is suddenly very close, and you finally realize that he's rounded the desk to be next to your head. He's crouched down to your level again, one hand pushing sweaty strands of hair away from your temple. You feel lucky just to be seeing his face this close.

"There you are." He smiles and the skin around his eyes crinkles charmingly. His demeanor shifts back rapidly when he sees your clarity come back. "Need you to listen to me now, love. I'm going to sit down and take a break, and you're going to come get yourself off on my cock." Your heart thrums at the idea of finally having him inside of you, and the excitement has you launching off of the desk as soon as Matty has planted himself into the grand chair. His entire body is flushed with exertion and covered in a sheen of sweat that you wanted to lick off. Matty spreads his legs in invitation, arms placed on the arm rests as if he was just lounging. His cock is incredibly hard and red, and you can only imagine how wound up he is from not having come a single time since you began.

You finally right yourself and get off of the desk, immediately taking your place in Matty's lap. Your pussy immediately makes contact with his cock and you both moan at the simple touch. The wetness between your legs soaks him completely as you take an experimental rock over him. Matty's hands clasp onto your tank top and in a moment the top is finally gone, tits spilling out of your bra as you rock against him, breathless and keening.

Matty pulls down the cups of the bra to expose your tits and he groans at the sight, hungrily grabbing the newly revealed flesh. His eyes roll back into his head and he growls at the onslaught of sensations.

"Fuck, put me cock in you or you're going back onto the desk." His voice is strained and you have to hold back a laugh at his desperation but you obey, grabbing his cock to line yourself up. The intrusion is slow despite how wet you are as his cock stretches you to be completely full. Matty devours your tits as you sink onto him, licking and biting the sensitive flesh and muffling his moans into your skin until you're fully seated on him. You feel dizzy and lightheaded at finally being full, the pressure inside of you phenomenally perfect.

Your head lulls into Matty's shoulder and you squeeze your eyes shut as you begin small movements against him, grinding your hips the smallest amount as your body adjusts. You bite into Matty's shoulder to ground yourself and he moans, head falling back against the chair and his hair tickling your cheek. He presses a kiss to your temple as you lick the bite you left on him.

Matty's hands leave your tits to clasp at your hips, guiding you along in the rhythm he desires. Your thighs burn but the pleasure outweighs the discomfort as Matty builds a faster tempo, bouncing you on his cock.

"You've got a perfect pussy, love, holding onto me so tight, yeah?" Your walls flutter at his words and he moans throatily, bucking his hips into you in deeper strokes. Eyes shuttering closed, you relish in the pleasure you had stumbled into as Matty smacks your ass again, spurring your hips back into action as you move against him with renewed energy as pleasure sparks through your limbs.

"Open your eyes, love, you wanted to see me so bad and you got your eyes closed anyway." You struggle to get them opened again while your veins flood with pleasure but you manage it, zeroing in on the satisfied look on Matty's face. He moans as you bite your lip and bear down on him harder, feeling the twitch of his cock inside of you that spurs you on further.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, shit, you feel so god damn good." Matty groans and strums his thumb over your sensitive clit. "I'm about to fucking fill you,such a good girl coming with me, yeah? Need you to come with me, love." Your eyes roll at his words and you feel your high just seconds away, squealing as pleasure makes your toes curl and you finally come, exploding on his cock, walls pulsing. Matty is close behind, curses and moans of your name spilling rapidly as he comes, filling you until cum is leaking back out around him. Your stomach clenches in an effort to keep it all in as your body sags into his, exhausted and sweaty.

"That was fucking perfect, good girl. You did so fucking well riding my cock." Matty kisses over every inch of your face he can reach with you attached to his neck. A weak thank you leaves you as your mind catches up slowly. Your sweat dries and you shiver, pressing further into his body heat and whining when his cock dislodges and more cum rushes out of you.

You groan at the mess in his lap, suddenly embarrassed in the aftermath. Detaching from him, your head starts to pound when you realize where you are, who you are, who he is...

"Stop that," his hands are on your cheeks, thumbs running over the apples in a steady stroke. "You're okay. I'm not going anywhere just yet." The earnest tone of his voice soothes some of the panic, but you're still teetering on uncertain territory.

"I just, I need to process this, I think. Like who we are, and what just happened and-" more cum leaks from you and you grimace. "And...that." You feel small and defeated, emotions running all over the place. Surprisingly astute to your feelings, Matty begins a low, melodic hum that settles your heart rate. Its a song you don't know but it calms you enough that your mind slows as Matty carefully extradites you from his lap and digs out a bottle of ibuprofen and water to take it with. When your head stops pounding he smiles at you, annoying charming, and you suddenly remember how you even ended up here.

Matty had replaced his boxers and brings you your scattered clothes before he sits himself on the floor in front of you. You avoid his gaze, still feeling slightly awkward and unreal as his choclately eyes examine you while you redress.

"Look at me, please." The edge in his voice is commanding and your stomach stirs with arousal again but you tamp it down. "This doesn't have to be anything else than this. I admit that some of this wasn't our best judgment...but I do genuinely really like you. And I do want to help you with your research. And like, take you on a normal date or something." His cheeks flush and its aggressively endearing to see him get flustered. You can't help the giggle that escapes you.

"Actually help me with my research? Because that's what this was supposed to be too." Your giggles break the tension and Matty rolls his eyes and crowds back onto the chair, pulling you into his lap as he bats at you playfully.

"Fine, maybe next time I'll refrain from fucking you in my office." You pout playfully in spite of yourself, enjoying the good natured sparkle in his eyes. "I said maybe, woman. You'll have me as much as you want me."

#matty healy #matty healy fanfic #matty healy oneshot #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #the 1975 #the 1975 x reader

[sleepy-shutin]

do you have any tips on communicating with alters? i get the vibe im really not alone in the brain area (there are. copious ammounts of other reasons but.) i'm not sure if i just got some srs dpdr or am like actually a system

this sounds like less of a "communicating with alters" problem and more of a "DID vs. other disorders" problem, or a "how to tell what is and isn't an alter" problem. if you're not sure whether or not you have alters, communicating with them or attempting to do so isn't going to help you figure out if you have alters or not, you're just going to get more confused. trust me, i've been down this exact same path before and it made things worse and more confusing. don't jump into trying to communicate with alters first before even knowing whether or not you have them.

also, obligatory warning that more people should be giving out: if you're still living in an abusive/traumatic environment, i personally really do not recommend self diagnosing with DID. from my personal experience and the personal experience of friends, this makes things worse, especially if you're under 18 or otherwise cannot legally leave. worry about surviving and getting out, THEN worry about the magnitude of trauma that you experienced and try to start getting it processed. trying to process trauma and deal with trauma and dissociation symptoms while still being traumatized actively is an awful experience.

if the second paragraph doesn't apply to you, ignore it. it's not for you.

this post from felis puts a lot of it into some pretty easy to understand language, the difference between cPTSD parts and fully autonomous dissociated parts, as seen in DID or OSDD-1.

another thing to note--i can't remember if this is mentioned in the linked post or not--but parts aren't always necessarily going to feel like entirely different people controlling your body. the vast majority of people who have autonomous dissociated parts have parts that are not the most distinct and may be separated out by feeling (i.e. "i feel like a serious woman with long hair") rather than suddenly knowing you have a specific name, age, gender, etc.

what you should do when trying to figure out if you actually have parts, is pattern tracking. journal a lot. if you can, try to think about how you feel throughout the day, (i.e. "do i feel like the serious woman with long hair or do i feel like the sad little boy or do i feel like the happy man with a baseball cap?"), to better track these patterns and see if they are brought up at specific times of day.

for example, i become tal when i'm at work. she is a teenage girl with dark hair, and she's very cheerful, and is pretty happy being masculine, even though she doesn't necessarily present that way when we draw her.

while i'm at home, i become zero, who is more serious and deadpanned and irritable, who is very obviously a male figure.

i can always tell the difference between these two specifically because of how starkly different we feel to each other. when i start feeling like a bubbly teenage girl, that's a pretty easy way for me to tell when i've switched. i can generally tell when i'm going to switch to tal because she comes forward in IRL social situations, and at work. i've used pattern tracking over the course of months to figure these patterns out.

that's only two parts out of my documented 30-something, and it took months to fully figure that out. you're probably going to have a similar amount of time figuring out your own shit. don't rush it. the best time to start is now, so be patient.

so basically, track how you feel identity-wise in differing situations, and track how connected or disconnected you feel to these differing identity feelings over time.

when you get home from work/school, does the person at work/school feel like you? do you feel confused by your actions at work/school? anxious about these actions? disgusted? do you feel like these actions you did at work/school are something that you would do now that you're not at work/school? these are some questions you can ask yourself.

remember, this only works if you're honest with yourself, and it is not a quick process.

i hope you get things figured out anon.

#ask #anon #advice #actuallydid #actuallymultiple #actuallytraumagenic

[genderqueerdykes]

i identified as a trans man for several years and recently came out as nonbinary. i don't think i ever really felt like a man, but i did a lot of repression with it for a while.

the part that complicates it the most is that i struggle with dissociation. i don't want to claim a label, but my doctor suspects that i have DID or OSDD. i have pretty bad dissociative amnesia. i didn't think it was uncommon for someone to not have knowledge of alter names, genders, and pronouns, but i feel really alienated after being online because i don't have an excel spreadsheet type of knowledge i guess.

with gender, it's frustrating because i want to understand myself better but there's so much self to sort through. there have been days with he/him, others they/them, and others i haven't corrected people when they said she/her, and others i wish i didn't have to use pronouns at all, or even a name. i'm worried if i try to explain it to someone they'll say i'm genderfluid but i don't remember a lot of those days, i only really know about them through things other people have told me and things that have been written down.

i don't really know if there's a way i can sum this up well, i apologize- it's just hard because i want so badly to have an idea of at least THIS gender, and what it is when i don't remember. i've always wanted a perfect label that encompasses things, even before i was really aware of dissociating. but i don't think i can ever find that.

i wanted to grab my desk and shake it and scream SAME the whole time i was reading this TBH

it's okay if you don't know what's going on right now, but i'm glad you're getting some care for your dissociative symptoms! it took us a few years to get a diagnosis because most clinicians aren't great at dealing with dissociation. luckily when we were getting screened for disability the first time years ago, the therapist screening us then caught it and brought it to our attention. it can take a while. either way i'm glad they're acknowledging it at least

we were the same way, where we didn't really identify (entirely) as a binary trans man on the whole, but came out as a binary trans guy in order to pass for safety reasons, and to get people to take our transition "more seriously" (our words, not that i believe that should have to happen). the host in our system at the time was a binary guy so it fit him, but only him. he was very oblivious to the rest of the system and really was only aware of passive influence and such

it's really hard to wake up every day and have a flurry of changes go on. it's hard to not know who "you" really are, which "you" is the one that you want to adopt or project on to the body. having a unified outward image is the hardest part and i get what you're saying, that's what we've struggled with the most- that's why we don't usually boil our identity down to something too simple because it can feel restricting and inaccurate at times, but at the same times, sometimes you just. want something simple

maybe for you all, what might help is trying to write down how the vast majority of you feel, and try to represent as many of you as you can. for us, it was easiest to adopt the fagdyke/gaybian and bigender labels, since it's more specific to us- we are a system of about 50/50 gay men and lesbians. if we don't feel like being specific or aren't around other queer people, we just say "bisexual" since that's also true- it's just the way we experience our bisexual attraction that is specific.

sometimes terms like 'genderqueer', 'queer' or simply just trans/transsexual can really help alleviate some of that if you feel overwhelmed. sometimes it really is the most helpful to return to the absolute most basic terms that you can, and build your way back up. sometimes you're just trans or queer. sometimes, you can't possibly put a word on it, and it's okay. it's okay that you don't have a label for it right now, even though you'd all like one. it's hard to figure these things out

transness, plurality & dissociative disorders have massive overlap. i was talking to a previous therapist who told me it's almost 1:1 in terms of the two- and it makes sense, if there are more than one of you living in a body, the likelihood of you having differing genders increases drastically. and trans and queer people are statistically more likely to endure severe traumas, so they just go hand in hand

i rambled a bit, but i hope youre able to figure something out for yourselves and find something that makes you all feel represented and comfortable. it's really hard, we still struggle with it- we really struggle with pronouns at the moment. it's a process. take care, feel free to stop by again at any point!

#asks #answers #mental health #plurality #did #dissociation #dissociative disorders

[quaddmgd]

Ask game!! For Crystal - 7, 8, 13, 28, 38, F, H :3

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Probably spending time with Aldecaldos, especially seeing them in their camp, helping each other with mundane tasks. On occassion she helped them with fixing a vehicle or some other piece of technology on her way back to the city. This quickly caused some of the Aldecaldos to warm up to her, and they ended up inviting her to a few family dinners, where she could unwind and share some stories over a beer. At first it was problematic to her due to the way she parted ways with her family, but after some time in Night City she found comfort in reliving memories of the good old times. She misses the silence and being surrounded by people that she knows and trusts.

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Crystal was regularly encouraged by her mother to practice netrunning, but she displayed more interest in mechanical stuff like cars, weapon assembly, maintaining equipment. At the end of the day she managed to learn some of it. She's by no means good at it, but skills she learned continuously compliment her combat.

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Hmm that's a good question. Never thought about the possibility of her being wrong about what she looks best in. I might have a good answer to that, however. Crystal was dressing all black with red accents during her nomad days (I've yet to post her pics from that era). That's the style I imagine she retained to date, though she managed to diversify it a bit. I still like to dress her up that way, but there are two outfits that she wears most frequently - both are yellow/gold with white and black accents. Figured that might be something she subconsciously feels better in, or there might be someone that praised such a mix on her.

28. Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

She usually doesn't mince words, sometimes to a fault. She's direct and she wants people to act the same towards her. Partially it's a result of her upbringing, but also because at the most critical moment in her life this far, she was lied to by multiple people she depended on. That made her even more distrustful, than she was raised to be. No matter how devastating, she prefers to tell the truth and she expects to be treated the same way.

38. What memory do they revisit the most often?

Not a singular memory, but she likes to reminisce about nights she spent sneaking to multiple restricted areas on the outskirts of Tucson AZ with her best friend and his girlfriend, where they would end up drinking and talking about whatever all night. She misses them greatly and prays that they're doing fine. For now she doesn't know how to go about it, but she hopes to see them again someday.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Adoration? I'd love to be friends with her. Other than that - pride, definitely. It's not often that I create OCs, so I cherish all of them, even if I didn't put much thought into making them. I wasn't inspired by anything while deciding on her looks, she just sort of came out this way, and one look at her gave me a basic idea of what she was like. Shortly after, I had her personality and backstory. She kinda came out of nowhere and I'm happy that I managed to detail her story and fit her into Cyberpunk. The appreciation from people on the internet certainly enhances this feeling even further.

H) What trait do you admire most?

I guess it's the ability to completely dissociate herself from the outside world. The moment she feels it's too much for her to handle, she finds the time to travel into the badlands, where she can spend an entire evening listening to her favorite music, lying on her car and thinking about both past and present.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk game #ask.qd #thank you so much for the opportunity to talk more about crystal's lore #and develop it even further #there were two questions i genuinely couldn't come up with an answer to #i'll unravel more in due time #oc: crystal hartley

[discountdyke]

so the thing is that after thanksgiving I realized I seriously can't go back to my parents without addressing all of the abuse. I figured this would happen at some point, but I didn't realize it would be so soon. wrote out some very long letters to both parents, both revealing and acknowledging secrets about the abuse and looking for a way forward. put the letters in the mail tuesday evening and I've heard nothing about it from my parents so far.

somehow, I felt okay with all of this, and I still sort of do. I thought I would break down and seriously lose function but i just...haven't. I definitely feel depressed, but I don't feel like the whole world is crashing down. I feel like I can survive this without completely losing control, and that feels so wrong? shouldn't I be sobbing all day? that's how I was living in their house. and I have been grieving so much the past year or so for the childhood and parents I deserved but never had.

but what seriously sucks is that I'm basically unemployed bc I have a church gig that's about 4 hours a week. which is like, cool I'm getting some money, but it's not keep my occupied for part of the day. I need to get back into a practice routine which I honestly haven't really had for the past 3 years.

I'm sick of going thru the motions of trying to distract myself. I'm tired of trying to mark things off the list when I still feel so numb and tired. I dont want to think about how things will get better, I just want to sit in my pain. but if I don't check off enough things then I feel horrible about myself and my life. I define so much of myself on productivity so not having a job at all makes that kinda difficult when I'm depressed.

and just when I was getting my footing with all of this, new horrific memories popped up. they just absolutely can't be real, and yet I know in my heart they must be. that's part of this process. that's what happens when u were forced to split into pieces as a toddler. but why now? why is there more? how can there be anything more devastating than what I learned last year? and if that can be true, what else will I find? when will I actually be done with this?

and of course I feel ashamed bc I feel like my flashbacks aren't real (they are) and I feel like I can't grieve my parents when they're alive and my gfs dad just died (even though there is no monopoly on grief) and I feel incredibly guilty for "being mean" to my parents (who inflicted horrific trauma) and for making my gf worry (bc she cares about me). I hate that so much of my brain operates on shame. feels like I can't do anything now without being ashamed of myself somehow.

and I never liked christmas but this really is a bad time of year to confront your parents about 20 years of abuse bc everyone else is spending time with their families. thank fucking god I start the conversion process in few months and also that elise and I got to spend hannukah together so we had a holiday in that way. I just wish the entire world wasn't crashing around me while I lay depressed and dissociated from it all in bed.

#talking tag #i cry for like 10 minutes each day and I feel numb or anxious the rest of the time #it sucks so bad. and it's fucking nighttime at 5pm every day so that's REALLY not helping lmao

[sureuncertainty]

today has been a Day and it's literally only 12pm

(tw for vomit mention below for any fellow emetophobes that follow me i'm gonna talk in detail about what happened bc I need to get it out somewhere so please be careful but i'll put it under a read more too)

Basically my Worst Trigger happened today (aside from me being sick myself), a guest was violently sick in front of me, and not even like. directly in front of me and thank god not on me, and i also did have warning so I was able to step away, and not be like. completely blindsided by it. but i thought I could handle it, and so I did not, as I should have completely removed myself from the situation. so.

but i did see it. and hear it. and it was a lot. like oh my god. and like listen, i literally cleaned up vomit when I was custodial and that was fine, but it's really the actively watching it happen and hearing it happen that set me over the fucking edge

and ofc i'm around my coworkers so i have to act normal, and I was like hm, i should probably leave the area (and i'm having this through process literally AS the guest is actively vomiting again and again) but then i'm like nah everything is fine my emet is better now so i'll just process it later. and the guest just. kept throwing up. and i kept hearing it. even if i wasn't seeing it. but i couldn't stop from looking at it a few times and i did see it i saw a lot of it and now it's permanently imprinted in my brain but ANYWAY

i finally was like okay i literally cant be here, and left the area, to run into a custodian which was really fucking lucky so I told him about it and i maintained my composure here, i was like cool i'm fine everything is fine and then I ran into another coworker who could obviously kinda see what was going on. and i was like hi yes i can't be around that. and she was like yeah. valid. i don't like being around it either

and i'm like hahahaha yeah definitely that's definitely my thing it's definitely a normal thing and not a debilitating phobia that's affected me my entire life and i thought was getting better and i guess it is but today it went right back to Full On Panic mode bc my coworker (bless her) took me to the side and she could tell i was starting to freak out. and i'm trying to keep myself from freaking out, like it's fine, I'll freak out later, I can hold this in, it's fine. I tell her I have emetophobia. she starts to try to distract me, so she asks me about the tattoos on my arms, I start awkwardly telling her about Silence Agenda, but I can't think, I can't focus on anything I'm saying and then I don't really remember exactly what happened after that, since I definitely dissociated a little bit, but it was one of those panic attacks where I couldn't breathe and my entire face went completely numb, like, it was BAD. i haven't had one like that in a long long time.

thankfully my coworker was really good and helped me kinda breathe through it, and she clearly had experience with this kind of thing, and a coordinator showed up (bc of the guest issue, which ofc made me feel even worse bc wow now you gotta go comfort the cast member who's having a panic attack bc of an already bad situation that you also have to deal with)

and overall the entire thing was mega embarrassing, and no one made me feel bad about it, but I kept (and still keep) thinking about how i should be fine with this i'm supposed to be okay, I work at a theme park and i used to work in custodial and it NEVER affected me like this before, even though this was obviously a different situation, and everyone else was fine, like they were grossed out but able to keep doing their jobs, and I was the one who fucking lost it and so there's that whole level of shittiness on top of the regular shittiness of being in a triggering situation at work

so yeah. i'm not doing well. i ended up coming home early and i'm supposed to go to a concert tonight and probably will but i was already anxious about it and now i'm just like. wow. i'm so pathetic. anyway. thanks for reading if you read thru this

#win rambles #emetophobia #vomit tw #vomit mention #vent post #yeah so i thought it was getting better but this felt like a pretty big fucking setback #thanks for reading if you do read this i appreciate it #i just needed to vent #i know it's long i'm sorry #but i needed to get this out #man it's been a long time since i've made an emet related vent post on here... used to be all the time #i HAVE made progress in recent years i do know that. and i know this doesn't erase it. it just feels. awful.

[invcntions]

♡ for any of our ships because u know i can't choose 🥹 but i love shippy memes

Send me a ♡ plus a ship and I'll tell you... (giving you nate/max because we have so many new babies i can't even remember and even though i'm sure we've answered all this about them before it's been a while since i got to yell about how much i love our boys).

𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃? if you told me they'd made it this far with neither of them having ever actually asked the other out it'd seem accurate. that said, i feel like max was probably the one to make the first move towards them actually spending time together because he probably had a slightly better read on the truth about their situation than nate did. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚆𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝙽 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂? ops i don't remember if we ever wrote this. i want to say nate though because he probably got really up in max's face and suddenly couldn't help himself, and just... would have been so annoyed about it afterwards as if it was not literally his fault. lmao. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂? please they don't do nicknames, it's taken them enough years to get to saying the b-word. they are just nate and max and everyone who knows them knows it's an iconic duo. maybe with the very occasional slip up on baby because every now and again it just comes out. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙺𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚂? in general i feel like it would be max because he just seems a little more adjusted to domestic life and probably aware of the fact they can't live on cheap takeaway pizzas. nate does when he wants to show max how much he cares though, like he'll happily spend hours trying to put together some romantic meal for them. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙲? i honestly don't know but i want to say max purely because nate has spent his entire life preferring to sit and dissociate in silence than listening to people sing about their feelings. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙾𝙶𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙳? nate. he can't help it but also he just needs to be able to touch max in some way at all times while sleeping and spreading out is a guaranteed way of achieving that. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃? definitely max. i can't even tell you why i just feel like he's more of an earlier riser having always had soccer practice, ect? while nate would wake up at midday and go to sleep at 4am if he could because he's more used to working late shifts. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙴𝙴? again max because he's up first and it's probably required to pull nate from bed at any sort of reasonable hour. plus it's just the sort of soft thing they do for each other to show they care okay. 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙾𝙽? honestly it goes both ways like i think it just depends on the day. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃? ops basically already answered this but for sure nate. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳? okay so this does go both ways but i feel like often it's max because it's the easiest way to calm nate down a little. like he's so easy to bait into a fight but the moment max is there touching him in some way he'll chill out almost instantly and they both know it. 𝚆𝙷𝙾'𝚂 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙿𝙳𝙰? initially i was going to say neither of them but actually this is 100% nate being territorial. someone's looking a little too long or trying to flirt with his boyfriend? he will more than happily have his tongue in max's mouth to let them know not to even think about it. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝚂𝙽𝙾𝚁𝙴𝚂? neither of them when they're both just happily sleeping next to the love of their life. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙶𝙴𝚃𝚂 𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙴𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙻𝚈? we love them because they both do, just not with each other. on a general day to day basis it's probably nate though, just because his patience with humanity in general is wafer thin. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝙴𝚇? again both of them. deep down they're both a little bit obsessed with each other so they can't help it. nate literally any time he sees max playing sports just like... well time to sleep with him. 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙰𝚂𝙺𝚂 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙶𝙴? sorry max but this one will have to be on you. nate would want to but i don't think he'd ever be quite able to get past the fear that max might say no.

#selfsabotaqe #* ; — ship { nate and max } #i swear there is not a word limit on these things but tumblr won't let me add anymore so you're getting a part two post of this #because i will never not have a whole lot to say about them

[hexthesystem]

hey guys it would be cool if you could send me some asks to distract me from my really long and stressful day !! i'm home now relaxing and unwinding and i kinda just want to lie in bed for the rest of the night and not think about life so talk to me about your day or your summer or pretty much anything at all !

#it was an extraordinarily long day which involved my mom's boyfriend's surgery consult for his tumor #and also some conflict with my sibling and my dad which is really hard and i had to go to my dad's house to help my sibling pack zir stuff #i basically just dissociated the entire time and even though i'm feeling better now the degree to which i was out of it was really yikes #my sibling is basically going thru with my dad what i went thru almost a year ago to the date and it's kinda like an anniversary effect #(cont) kinda thing with the added trauma that comes in watching my sibling go thru this so yeah #anyways. it's been a long day and tomorrow will be better. #personal.txt #like if you read this giant rant

[kotokos-cafe]

Kokichi With A S/O With Borderline Personality Disorder And ADHD

First off, let's just immediately say he probably has ADHD, himself, so he completely understands that.

He'll totally hop from different activities with you, and feels comfortable bringing up when he wants to do that, too! One minute, he'll be forcing you to color with him, and the next, you have him baking cupcakes!

Honestly, he relates to becoming bored with an activity fast, and he does it, himself, but he knows you probably don't wanna annoy him, so he'll bring it up first.

"Heyyyyyy, S/O-Chan, I'm booooooored! Can we do something else now? Pretty please?"

You're super thankful, and immediately agree, picking a new activity together.

If you ever need help with homework, he's probably not the person to go to. He'll make you break away from it faster, probably by tickling you or pranking you.

But if you stress to him that it's important, Kokichi just loudly sighs.

"*SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH* Fiiiiiiiiiiine..."

Expect crocodile tears later.

If you lose things, he's basically an expert at finding them at this point.

He's the type to playfully snap your attention back to him with a giggle, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

"Hey! Hey, S/O-Chan! Hey! Don't you love me anymore? Is that why you're not paying attention to me?"

If you just want to wander around aimlessly, he's there to do it with you. Anything is better than sitting around bored, after all!

Totally the type to help you with directions that are given. He'll explain them better, anyway, being the Ultimate Supreme Leader.

If you ever want to rant about your latest interest, he'll pretend he's bored, but he'll secretly be listening the entire time. How else would he get you the perfect presents suited to your interests?

Kokichi Ouma is as impatient as you are, and he'll join you in pestering that damn car in front of you to just hurry up, or the teacher to release you from class already!

He doesn't mind being interrupted, honestly. He loves you, and that's all that matters. Besides, now he gets to hear your angelic voice! It's a win-win situation!

He can't fathom the idea that you think he might abandon you someday.

How could he? He loves you, and you're the first person that's treated him with warmth and compassion in... so long.

"Hey, no. None of that. How could I ditch my Partner In Crime? As long as you're here, you're my King, My Queen, or whatever else you wanna be."

Kokichi gets a little lost when you alternate between "Ah! My best friend is so sweet! I love them with all my heart!" and "They're the worst! They never make time for me anymore! I couldn't care less if they died!"

Your perceptions of yourself change so often, and Kokichi is one of the few who can keep up with that. He does it, himself, being both egotistical and self-loathing.

He's a little concerned about your unsafe and unstable habits, though. Whether that be drinking, reckless driving, unsafe sex, etc., he's trying to help you curb that. He doesn't want you getting hurt before you can take over the world together!

When you become depressed, Kokichi will lay with you in his arms (or vice versa, if you prefer to hold him), and ask you to tell him about how you feel. Then he'll take you out anywhere just to get you moving, knowing sometimes that can get the serotonin flowing.

If you get super irritable, Kokichi takes the hint and leaves you alone for a while (but not before saying some harsh words, himself). You do later apologize, though, and he forgives you, knowing it's your disorder's fault, not yours.

"Hey, heeeeeey, it's okay! See? I'm not sad anymore, so you shouldn't be, either!"

Once anxiety hits, Kokichi is the type to reassure you that nothing can or will go wrong, and that he'll take care of everything, even if it means lying forever.

When you start feeling empty and alone, Kokichi is the type to lay directly on top of you and purr into your chest lovingly.

"Look! I'm on your heart now! So I'll be the thing that fills your empty heart up for now, until you find more stuff, 'kay?"

If it ever made you angry enough to hit him, that's it, it's over. He's leaving. You've broken his trust, and you can't ever repair it after that. He needs time to heal from you.

But if it doesn't, he'll be loyal to you until the bitter end, defending you from everyone that talks down to you with harsh retorts of his own.

If you ever dissociate in front of him, the first thing he'll do is back away. He's familiar with the fact that people dissociate when they feel unsafe, so he figures if he's nowhere near you, you'll have no reason to view him as a threat.

He wishes he could just take all your mental illness and pain away, but sadly, he can't. He just doesn't want to see you hurting while he doesn't have to.

All in all, he loves you with all his heart, and would stop at nothing to keep you happy.

#Ouma Kokichi #Kokichi Ouma #Oma Kokichi #Kokichi Oma #kokichi x reader #kokichi oma x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #🎂 here you are! 🎂

[winterandwords]

It looks like my brain is taking some time off doing things with words. This honestly almost never happens. I'm ✨obsessive✨ about writing to the point where it often sometimes becomes A Problem™

So, this used to drive me crazy with frustration. I'm a very push-through-it kind of person. This is also A Problem™ and one that I'm actively working on for reasons of physical and mental health. Before, I would admonish myself for not trying hard enough, force myself to do the thing, be utterly miserable, and ultimately end up despising every fucking word I wrote when my mind and my heart weren't in it.

Now I'm trying this new thing where I don't do that and I think about how I got here. I've been working on Project Frequency non-stop for a while, even though I didn't fully intend to get stuck into it just yet. I published a short fiction collection on my website. I finished the last revision on Project Storm way sooner than planned after it came back from my editing folks (still needs proofread, but sooooooon!).

Within the last few weeks, I also started creating regular writing-related content for Instagram, which has included making artsy fartsy microfiction videos where I read things with my own fucking voice OMG. This is legit one of my favourite forms of creative expression right now and I'm learning so much. I gathered three years' worth of microfiction into categories for future posts. And I completely overhauled my entire website.

My mental health has been not amazing. OK, that's a massive understatement. My mental health has been an explosive catastrophic disaster because of stuff relating to serious trauma that I don't want to talk about here. I fell apart in a full-on breakdown kind of way, which is not something I do very often because I live in a perpetual state of denial and dissociation and like to pretend I don't because it makes me feel like I've got my shit together better than I really do.

I contacted a trauma support centre that specialises in the very specific context of my trauma. I realised I wasn't ready to go through that whole process yet and cancelled the initial outreach assessment. Then I felt like a weak piece of shit and hated myself a bit. Then my close family and a very good friend helped me understand that this was an act of self-care and boundary setting and sometimes first steps have to be taken a number of times. So it's OK. Sort of. And I'm doing way better at dealing with the mess in my head with the support of people who love me. And I'm extremely lucky to have those people.

My chronic illness/disability stuff has been a pile of fuckery too, but the more manageable kind of fuckery. Except I've been really struggling with mobility aids lately because I'm basically going in cycles of fucking up my lower body by not using them, then fucking up my upper body by using them. So I found a truly epic rollator/wheelchair hybrid (swear to god, this thing is cyberpunk AF) that is everything I need and actually possible for me to operate even when my stupid hands are being stupid, and now we're trying to work out how to afford it and hopefully I'll be able to get it within the next few months.

Now that I type all that out, I'm not quite so much like "Why am I not feeling creative right now? It's a mystery!" I am burned the fuck out and profoundly exhausted on every level. And I'm doing that new thing I mentioned at the top of this post. I'm accepting it. And I'm letting myself rest. And I think it's good.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in and say hi and I miss you all and I'm still lurking even if I'm not posting as much. Love love love. PS. Sorry if I've missed any tags lately. Please keep tagging me. I don't usually suck this bad at keeping up <3

#the shit in my head #chronic illness #disability #mental health #writeblr #writeblr community #writer #writers #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #tumblr writers #writers community #writing #am writing #writing community

[wickedw3asleys]

MINEFIELDS - Pt. 3

George x reader

-> Part 1 , Part 2...

WARNINGS: emotional scenes, mentions of depresion, ptsd... george and y/n had had a hard time basically

AN: sorry for posting these so quickly, for once i had them written in advance and i want to post a part every day :) aLSO VERY SORRY ABOUT DEAN HE'S AN ANGEL AND I LOVE HIM I PROMISE TO DO HIM BETTER IN THE FUTURE :(

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You woke up too a silent house, the moonlight shyly entering your window and resting on your face. You were feeling a little better now, more rested and ready to enter your new journey at the Burrow.

You were feeling peaceful, feeling the sheets in between your fingers and listening to the old house creaking and breathing in the wind that was calmly brushing it's walls; but your peace was quickly interrupted by the thought of George. He had told you that he wanted to talk to you, and now seemed like the moment to do so.

Looking at the clock on the wall in front of you, you were afraid of the current time of night, but as a fortunate surprise, it was only 2 a.m., meaning that George would probably be still awake, or at least, not deeply sleeping.

You got up from the bed, instantly feeling the cold floor under your feet; put a sweater and made your way to the door.

No one was awake anymore, not one light was peeking from under the doors, not even from the living room, so you thought George would still be in his room.

You shyly knocked, not too hard, afraid of Angelina waking up fuming rage, but hoping it would still be loud enough for George to hear it. You waited outside his door for a while and you actually were actually ready to go back to your room and let him sleep when he quietly opened the door.

"Sshh...", he put his finger on his lips. You looked over his shoulder and saw Angelina's back on the bed.

"Okay...", you smiled.

George closed his door and smiled at you, "Let's go then..."

You followed him downstairs, where the fireplace automatically lit up the moment you stepped in the living room.

"This has always amazed me...", you chuckle.

George continued smiling; he warmly took your hand and you both sat on the couch.

For a while you kept looking at the fireplace, still feeling George's gaze on you.

"It's rude to stare...", you tell him without looking at him.

He softly chuckles, shaking his head, "Sorry... I'm still processing the fact that you're here"

"Me too, actually..."

You felt his body relax next to you, his back now on the back of the sofa.

"I don't really know how to start this conversation...", you admit, looking at him.

"Me neither... I want this to be calm and with no rush... Like we used to talk..."

"These were the best talks...", you smile at the thought.

"Okay, sorry for being so direct and shitting on the "no rush" part, but... why did you leave, Y/N?", he asks after a few seconds.

"Going right in, I see...", you chuckle, "After everything, I thought it would be better for me to disappear from everyone's life... I thought it would be better for your family, for me... And for you... I thought it would help us heal quicker..."

"No offense, but... That's bullshit...", George chuckles, making you laugh too.

"Fuck you! Everything I did was to protect and help you!", you pushed his arm.

"Ouch! No need to get aggressive on that one!", he laughs, "But really... Why did you leave?"

Your smile slowly faded away, not totally sure how to say it. "I wasn't sure if I would have been able to look at you ever again...", your voice breaks.

As sad and selfish it sounded, it was the truth. It is terrible and literally the worst thing someone could ever say but you couldn't lie to him, not anymore, not like that.

"I felt the same for so long...", George answers, "And because I know and understand that feeling, I can't be mad at you for that..."

"George..."

"It's true... I mean, it's normal... I don't have any bad feelings towards you for that... It's just-

"I don't know how to justify or explain myself... I truly don't, but I promise, George, that it is not like that anymore... I see you, my friend, my Georgie. I was just afraid... I don't know how to explain all of that...", you started to feel you throat getting sore and dry, not knowing how to continue, "I-I... I was afraid to see him in you, and not being able to see you anymore... Does that make sense...?"

"It does... I get it... Promise...", he warmly smiles, "I was feeling exactly like that at first... I was afraid to forget about me and only seeing... Fred... And the first time I looked through a mirror I... I couldn't do it...", George lowered his head.

"Y/N... You loved him, right?", he asks after a few seconds of silence.

You nodded as you felt your eyes fill with tears again, "I'm sorry, George... I should have told you..."

He gently took your hand in his, locking his eyes with yours again, "I knew... Don't worry about that...", he softly smiled, "I've always thought you two would have ended up together, y'know?"

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding. For all these years spent with the twins, you have found yourself wondering the same thing too, and hoping for it to be true. You truly loved Fred. More than a friend. Always.

"But it's okay now...", you smile between tears, "He was still my best friend after all, just like you... I forgot about these feelings... I just miss him as him, as my best friend..."

George sighed, but never let your hand go, "Me too..."

"I didn't want to leave you, George... I want you to know that... What I did was stupid and impulsive... But I never wanted to do it..."

"I know, darling... I know...", he smiled at you, "But I needed you..."

"I know, I'm sorry...", you felt your eyes burn with tears, "I swear leaving was the biggest mistake in my life..."

"Like I said, you're here now... That's all that matters...", he says, tightening his grip on your hand.

"And what about you? You and Angelina, huh?", you tried to calm the situation.

"Uhm... Yeah...", he smiled, "It's... a long story..."

"That's why we're here, right?"

He chuckled again, "Well... I've had a... pretty bad time after... Fred's death...", his voice broke, "And I needed someone to be there for me... And she was there... She was writing to me almost every day, asking about me and how I was holding on... And when I told her that every day got worse and worse, that I wasn't even able to look at myself in the mirror... She came here... And she never left..."

"She helped you get better...", you say, faking a smile.

"Sort of... And one thing led to another and well... We've been dating for 3 years now..."

"I'm happy for you"

"No, you're not...", George laughs, making your

mouth open in fake annoyance.

"W-what do you mean? Of course I am! You're my best friend! I'm happy you had someone like her during these difficult times..."

"You're happy I wasn't alone... You're not happy for that person to he her...", he winked at you. He definitely knew you too well. It was true, you would have hoped George to have anybody else by his side but her.

"She wasn't very nice to me in school... I've always thought she hates me or something...", you awkwardly rubbed your forehead.

"Oh she does, she definitely does..."

"George!", you laugh loudly.

"What? You stole us from her since day one!", he laughed with you, "First Fred, then me... You were always first..."

"It's that true...?", you ask, looking at him in the eyes.

"Of course...", you could see him gain nervousness as he started looking at the fireplace, "It was always you... For everything... For Fred and for me..."

"W-what do you-

"Don't ask, you know what it means...", he looked down, as if he was ashamed of his answer.

You were completely in shock by his confession, paralyzed; not knowing what do say or even how to form words.

"Come on... You're going to tell me that you didn't know?"

"I-I... No... I didn't know...", you put your hand on your mouth, not believing anything, "You mean... You and Fred?"

He didn't say anything, he just smiled and nodded.

"Oh..."

"Sorry, Y/N..."

"It's o-okay... I just... I don't know...", you felt your heart beat quicker and quicker every second.

George chuckled and pulled you into a hug,

"Don't say anything, you don't have to if you don't want to... It's alright", he whispered to you.

It's not that you didn't want to say anything, you actually had a lot to say, but you didn't know how, and words refused to leave your mouth, fearing to say something bad when you didn't mean it. So you just stayed there, in his arms, breathing in his cologne and enjoying the warm feeling of his body against yours.

"And about you... How's it going with Dean?", he asks, breaking the silence.

"You know about Dean?", you were surprised by the question, you'd never thought he would know.

"Huh? How do you know I'm with him?"

"Hermione snitched last year...", he chuckles, "I'd never thought he was your type, though..."

"Come on, you just don't like him for breaking your sister's heart...", you smile.

"That's... not entirely false...", he says, making you laugh.

"I needed someone too... He was there when no one was..."

"Did he heal you?", George asks.

You take a moment to think about your answer. Has Dean really helped you? Did you heal thanks to him? You really appreciate him, and cherished every moment he stayed with you when you couldn't sleep or eat. He helped you ease your mind and find a little peace in your life. He was there when no one was.

He fed you, held your hair up when your stomach couldn't handle the food, when you woke up hysterically crying at 4 a.m., when you totally dissociated from reality...

"I would like to say yes, because he was there, always... At any time of the day and night... But I know he couldn't give me what I needed... And I know he tried his best, he has spent the last 4 years taking care of me, basically... Without asking anything in return...", you sigh, "But deep down I know he's not what I needed..."

"And what do you need?"

"I don't know yet..."

Once again, you let the silence install between you and George, not really knowing what to say, just thinking about everything.

But quickly, your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of the family clock hitting 4 a.m.

"We should go back to our rooms...", George says, helping you stand up with him.

"Yeah... I'm sorry for keeping you up, you have to sleep too"

"Don't worry, it was my idea after all...", he smiles.

You exchanged a quick smile and glance before going up the stairs together through the darkness of the house.

"Good night, Y/N..."

"Night, Georgie...", you took his arm and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, petting his hair on the way.

"Thank you for coming back, I truly mean it..."

"Thank you for not hating me...", you smile. And with that, George smiles and go back to his room, quietly closing the door behind him. You copied his actions and got back to yours, thinking about the conversation you had with George. You knew that lots of things were still needed to be said and talked about, but you didn't have the heart to ask more of it. You didn't want to rush things or pressure George to talk about the past or his feelings, so you thought it would be a good idea to go slowly but surely; letting George take his time and talk to you whenever he feels like it. After all, as selfish as it would sound, you were there mostly for him. You were happy to see the others, especially Molly; but you knew George was the most affected by everything, and you wanted to stay with him.

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tag-list:

@28cnn , @lindsaytriestowrite , @jenniweaslee , @amityyyjade , @dracossimp01 , @themoonwithprophets , @hufflepuffflowers , @georgeweasley19 , @mendesdelight

#fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hogwarts #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #george weasley smut #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley smut #george weasley x reader #weasley twins fic #harry potter fic #george weasley fic #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fluff #smut #angst

[afniel]

Imma put some (heavy? I'm not sure? I don't go into any graphic details of anything bad but I guess it's a big topic, check the tags if you want to know more) mental health stuff under the cut, so, here's the cut.

I'm feeling like I can and maybe should be a little more open about this recently, so...I've realized that it's highly likely that I've got Dissociative Identity Disorder. Now granted, I'm not diagnosed at the time of this post, but it's something I've been living with for basically my entire life already, and I've got a ton of practice dealing with myself and working through shit, so I'm pretty sure it is what it is. Plus, honestly, how else do you explain containing several other people who are also me except all of these mes don't necessarily share access to each other's memories or skills*, which occasionally causes some really difficult shit for all of me. I'm self-aware enough that I notice missed time and holes in my memory now—we don't ask about the times I couldn't notice them, those are pretty bad times—and the only alter I have who's even capable of fully taking over if I blank out isn't even really distinguishable from me, he's just funnier. And I've got pretty decent communication methods with all of them, which aren't even that many at this point...I used to have a few more. (I would pay the super organized one with the great fashion sense to come back, though, damn.)

And yes, before anyone comes in like, "Well, Ackshually, you need to have experienced repeated, regular trauma before the age of—" ...don't assume that I didn't, man, because I did. I blocked it all from memory for years until 2020 started unearthing shit because I had nothing but time and nothing to do but introspect, and I just wasn't ready to accept it until then. To be clear, I definitely don't mean any sort of fun or self-induced kind of multiplicity, here, I mean the sort where at several points in my life I've had people tell me that I did/said stuff I don't even remember and would never normally do/say when I legitimately believed I was asleep. And then I blocked those out of memory too, because why not at that point. It's a self-defense mechanism, and one that's very hard to distinguish from ADHD and fibro and sleep disturbance memory problems, any of which are shitty enough on their own.

Honestly it doesn't mean anyone has to do anything differently around me. I'm still Me, I've just realized that I never quite got glued together right during some developmental stages because of environmental pressure to, in fact, not do that at all, because it was a lot easier to function that way. None of my parts feel like Entirely Not Me, they've got names and different voices and all but as a whole I don't want to be addressed differently, it's just this weird feeling of realizing that my brain runs very oddly, looking under the hood, and finding out that it's not even assembled but it's somehow managing to carry on anyway...and has been like this since I was a child, which is clear in hindsight now that I'm not involuntarily blanking everything about it out.

I'm gonna at some point here try and see if I have access to any therapists who can work with DID, 'cause man, it kinda sucks and I wouldn't mind managing it better. I'm not doing badly now, but I haven't been doing spectacularly in general with it, so, y'know. There's always room to improve.

(I'm especially mad that I'm funnier than myself, what the actual fuck. How does that even work.)

*Footnote: I discovered the hard way that my most functional guardian sort of alter actually can't draw, he just cribs off of my memory if he needs to do it because he's got nearly full access to it (though I have only middly access to his memory), but we switched so abruptly one time that I kinda shunted off into nowhere for a very confusing 20-30 seconds of staring at the tablet going, "Hey, wow, this is really good. Who drew—oh shit, I'm drawin' this? Oh no. I have no fuckin' idea how to draw, fuck, what do I do?" until everything kinda stopped bluescreening. Funny in retrospect but also very much an Oh No This Is Serious Isn't It moment.

Plus side, he also doesn't have fibromyalgia, which is GREAT but another sign that hey, uh, something is not working as expected here, because why would I just sometimes not have a chronic condition, but only when I'm in this REALLY specific mental state...? Brains are wild, y'all.

#mental health stuff #do I dare tag it...eh yeah why not #Dissociative Identity Disorder #actually dissociative #actually DID #add another weird thing about me to the weird thing list I guess

[bellamygateoldblog]

So, I read a lot of your personal posts and I'm just really curious about you. You seem very stressed out and tired all the time. Are you a college student? Are you just in a financial situation that necessitates that you work all the time? I just feel bad because It seems that you do not absorb joy very much. Like, I have seen that you recently started watching that show The 100. You seem very pissed off about it and yet keep watching it? You confuse and intrigue me. Explain?

"it seems that you do not absorb joy very much" has been playing on my mind ever since i read this. It hit something close to my heart.

I know i’m not obligated to explain anything and i don’t tend to put my life online (i don’t have any social media, so that should give you an idea of how secretive i usually am) but i literally stayed awake for 30 hours straight before sleeping for 15 hours straight and of course i don’t feel very well after that lol. I feel like i need to talk through some things that i’ve been keeping to myself for a long time. Get it out of my head, stop carrying it around, maybe gain some control over it.

I never intend to make anyone feel bad though, but i don’t have anyone to talk to so i guess i sometimes make those posts as a substitute for someone listening. Or for me being pissed about the 100, i think that’s my mood translating into what i end up posting in general.

Anyways this is A Lot. I obviously don’t mind if you read it. Advice would be nice, if anyone has any.

I’m a 2nd year university student. Due to severe mental illness (often making me physically sick and exhausted) these last 2 years have been extremely difficult so that's left me in a very intense situation essentially just trying to ensure i pass the year. That means handing in all the assignments i deferred basically all at the same time, after not attending the year at all. Like no lectures, no workshops, no lessons, nothing past the first month of semester 1. It's really not an ideal situation and my condition isn't improving the way i thought it would (you know when you think ‘this is the worst it can possibly get’ and then it gets worse?), and i can't focus. I’m resourceful and naturally decently smart, so i’m able to still pass a year of uni without...going. I’ve become less capable over time but because of other life experience i don’t place value on academic excellence anymore and because of covid there is a benchmark anyway, where my grade can’t drop below a 2:2, so basically i’m good as long as i don’t recieve a fail grade on anything. But that being said it’s still really hard to get things done anyway despite this? especially with depression and concentration issues, because uni in general just makes me really unhappy and disrupts my entire life, and i’d rather do literally anything else.

I can’t function whenever thinking about school in general. If im stressed about something i can’t think about anything else and it ends up seeping into other things im doing.

I have a really clear idea of what i want for the next step in my life and university is the only route available to get to so that’s why i’m still going through all of this when i could technically just ‘stop’. I’ve explored other ideas already and it appears even more stressful and complicated to make a huge change now. Even though i know 3rd year will be harder (which is also a source of stress, anxiety over what’s to come when im already struggling...).

I've been talking to my uni the whole time and while they've been understanding and accommodating (psychology department...like...they Know lol), there's only so much they can do to help me. Everyone i’ve spoken to is genuienly amazed i am where i am, but imo my resilience is bourne out of pure spite not to let my life fall apart along with myself LMAO. I have one assignment deadline left which is tomorrow. It’s the hardest one yet, i haven’t started and i’m filled with dread, and i’m so burned out i have no idea how i’m going to get it done.

To give some context about the whole ‘i can’t help myself when i’m under stress’ thing: I’m a really feminine girl. I have health and beauty routines that i like to stick to, but i can’t stick to them right now so i don’t feel like myself. There is nothing more to my life than stress and depression. I’m pretty sure i experienced dissociation for a few days last week. It was like i didn’t exist.

Just so happens that when i thought i could finally have a break from the extreme stress there are exams coming up on the 11th, which my uni has for some reason decided to make harder!?!? And i need to tell you that because it’s been bugging me ever since i recieved the email. They've completely changed the exams from being 1 hour long multiple choice tests (multiple choice is so easy smh) to basically a group of short answer questions we have 24 hours (each!) to write and submit and it’s seeming like i’ve got another 5 assignments to do after already writing 7 in the past month. It’s open book while the January exams were closed but it still seems to me like the students who didn’t defer (who did the exams back in January) got an unfair advantage over those of us taking them now due to our own circumstances. So I’m confused and upset about that, and about the thought that i probably won’t even get a break before 3rd year begins.

My living situation doesn’t make it better. It’s a really negative and emotionally draining space for me to be in. Just adding to my being drawn to negativity, and my own sensitivity. And covid has made everything that much more complicated, with everything changing and being closed etc. I’m completely alone btw, there is no one i can lean on.

As for the 100, that’s really tricky. I actually stopped “watching” it last year and now mostly consume it through fandom tumblr. I'm just not in the right headspace to sit alone and watch such a heavy show (clearly LMAO). But I’m so comfortable in this circle of fandom & love my mutuals, so i stay. I am actually liking a lot about the final season, like they’re delivering everything i wanted them to lol, but it’s so flawed and easy to complain about when you have a predisposition to be a Negative Nancy all the time so here we are.

I think i don’t really talk so extensively about shows I really love because i feel like i don’t have anything substancial to say about them besides ‘i love it’? Like i just sit there and happily watch and the farthest i go is commenting gibberish love confessions in the tags of a gifset i reblog. So most of my posts end up being me being petty or something. I do want to focus more on shows i love but like i said...it’s so hard for me sometimes to be all-positive and pretend i’m not completely crushed?

I really just want to not be so stressed and exhausted all the time. I want to do something besides worry about and/or do work. I’d love to clean my space & take a shower & read a book without a nagging anxiety in the back of my head. But i have to wait it out, and then wait it out, and continue waiting it out because it feels like things are going to be this way forever or get even worse.

I’ve had a lot of good luck lately though, and i don’t know what your beliefs are but i think someone is watching over me.

[demonsforfriends]

Just having a quiet moment to myself to sit and think about everything that's happened in the last week or so, and reflect on what's going on in my life right now.

It's been 3 weeks now since I've been in isolation and it's been a blessing in disguise. I didn't realise how much I needed time to just hermit and be at home and not mixing with the outside world. It's been over 3 weeks since I dissociated last, and that's something of a record for me. Even though we're having money worries, the same as everyone else, anxiety levels have dropped significantly.

Last week, we hit a bit of a bump. Well, a big bump actually. While anxiety has been a lot more manageable, there's been a lot of random depressive spells, and last week out of nowhere, I hit a wall, completely snapped, and made a really irrational, split second decision to end my life, and just went out on autopilot. For a moment, I was completely overwhelmed, felt like I was the source of all that's wrong with everything, felt like everyone's lives would be better without me in it and was just completely exhausted with the state of the world.

I struggle to do and understand a lot of things. Basic things, like working out how I feel, and talking about it, and dealing and acting on a single emotion. Feeding myself when I'm hungry. Showering when I need to. Understanding people's feelings and intentions. It's so difficult and confusing to the point of tears sometimes. But at the same time, I feel so so deeply, I just can't do anything about it a lot of the time, and not for lack of trying either. When I can actually pick up on it, I can feel deeper for others than I can myself. I've speculated in the past that I have autism, and never really thought anything of it, I just brushed it off and carried on. More recently, it's felt more and more like something I need to confront and deal with. Anyway, when I was off on my little suicide mission, I had a moment of clarity and I stopped. I turned my phone back on, and listened to the voicemail that my fiancée had left me and it absolutely broke my heart. She was so scared, and hurt, and confused and could barely speak for crying and it wrote me off. For a moment, I had a flash of confusion, which quickly turned to anger and self loathing. How could she love me? I'm so obsessed with perfection, but I am so imperfect, the exact opposite of the thing I've spent my entire life chasing, and trying to be. But as quickly as the anger came on, it dissolved. All I wanted to do was go home and make her feel better. I've always said that her happiness is my happiness, and I'll probably always stand by that. I went home, had a chat with the police, went with the ambulance crew to the hospital, spoke to the mental health teams, and went home to her. I felt so much remorse. We have regular mental health check ups with each other anyway, but that night we really talked a lot, about what I want, why I can't ever do anything for myself and the general day to day struggled that I have, and ups and downs that I have, and how to deal with my autism better. She also tried to work out how to love me better, which made me kinda sad, because there's no way she could do more for me than she already does, but she vowed to stick to it nonetheless. I've always believed her when she tells me she loves me, but somehow I believe her more now than ever.

I'm so glad I didn't go through with ending my life last week. I've experienced so many beautiful moments in this last 8 days alone. Things that would seem small and insignificant to some, but have been amazing and beautiful and really meaningful to me.

The first day after everything that happened, we spent the day at home together, mostly in bed. Just being in each others company. She held me and kept me calm for most of the day. Just the pure warmth and innocence of naked skin to skin contact was amazing. Jen sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the window, and as the sun was setting, I noticed the way the skin touched her skin and outlined her body, and it was truly an amazing thing to watch, so much so that I had to capture it. Her silhouette looked perfect against the dusk sky. I had a really profound feeling of being grateful to survive the previous afternoon, else I wouldn't have lived to see that moment.

Tuesday was a really, really amazing day, start to finish. One of the best days I've had in a long long time. Once Jen got back from work, we had a parcel arrive from Ithaca, actually genuinely one of my favourite bands. When the Covid-19 lockdown started, we bought a long sleeved t-shirt from them, because A. the shirt is sick as fuck and B. just to show some love and support. To our surprise, they sent us two shirts, the one that we ordered, as well as a bonus shirt from old merch stock, as well as a sticker and a handwritten note on the back of a photo of Djamila's dog, The Ham™.

Afterwards, we got dressed and headed out to go get some food shopping, and decided to talk through the park on the way home, and came across a beautiful bed of daffodils, so of course, I had to take pictures. The one above is my favourite, of course. Jen has the most beautiful smile, especially now that I know that she's happy for real.

After we'd been home, put the shopping away and showered, we headed out again. This time, to go hunt down a good spot to try and take some good photos of the "Pink Moon". We went for a nice long walk through the woods first though. It was so quiet, all we could hear were birds singing, the water running in the stream and the ground beneath our feet.

Once we found a good spot on high ground, we sat on top of two big rocks in front of some trees, one tree in particular was a a blossom tree, and we watched the sun go down, and just sat there quietly, looking at all of the colours meld and mix in the sky.

After the sun had set, we found the best spot we could find to set up the tripod and Jen sat by for a good half an hour to 45 minutes while I tried to get the best shot I could of the moon. I am honestly so so proud of this photo, I personally think it's one of the best photos I've ever taken.

I was starting to feel as though Jen was getting bored of sitting around, while I was indulging myself, as I know I often get carried away and absorbed when I'm doing something creative, and starting to feel like I should wrap things up, but instead, she took a big interest in what I was doing, and took the time and effort to get involved in what I was doing. She came and sat with me, and asked me questions about how my camera worked, and gave it a try for herself. I remember watching her try, and adjust, and try again and I remember feeling so much love, and feeling so proud of her. No one has ever gone out of their way to involve themselves in something that I love doing the way she did, and that memory, and that picture will stick with me forever.

This is just a bonus picture of Jen, because I thought she looked really beautiful under the glow of the streetlights and the moon. 😍

The day after/yesterday, after Jen came home from work, we spend another afternoon in bed together, to have some alone time. While the sex was amazing, as it usually is, that isn't the moment that sticks out for me, it's this one, in the photo. This might be grim, or kinda gross or just too much information for some, but I don't care. Now, ever since we have been together, both of us have become more comfortable body hair, periods, and pretty much everything that our bodies do naturally and we both find it beautiful. Something I've noticed, as well, is that people don't generally tend to talk much about grooming, especially when it comes to helping your partner groom and helping your partner with self care. Well, recently, we both decided to shave together, which is something both of us had to do before to please others, even though I never really liked it. However, this time is was different. Anyway, I have quite sensitive skin, and naturally, I get a lot of ingrown hairs, this time around have had a lot and it's been very uncomfortable and at times quite painful. When we were lay in bed together, I was in a bit of discomfort with it, and without batting an eyelid, Jen picks up the tweezers, heads back down there and starts removing and relieving all of the ingrown hairs. This really sticks out to me as a really beautiful moment. She was so gentle, and I was so comfortable that I felt no pain at all. I've never met anybody who treats my body with such care and respect before as she does, and she protects and looks after it better than I do. I remember being filled with love, and I felt like it was such an intimate moment, but a gentle, innocent kind of intimacy and it was beautiful. Another moment that will stay with me for a long, long time.

Later on in the evening, we went out for another walk, this time to go and meet Jen's mother and collect some food that she had got for us. On the way there, we came across a beautiful cherry blossom tree. Cherry blossoms are both of our favourite flowers, we absolutely adore them, so I wanted to photograph them, but I'm not a tall person and the tree was very high, so I couldn't reach to get a good close up photo of the flowers. Within seconds, she gave me a piggy back and hoisted me up high so I could get close enough to take this photo. We must've looked crazy to onlookers, but it was like we were the only two people in the world.

If I had gone through with ending my life last week, I would've missed out on all of these precious moments. As I said, they may seem small or insignificant to some, but to me, they hold so much weight and meaning. All of that would've been gone, within a split second of being overwhelmed.

Jennifer Stephanie Riddell, I wouldn't be here without you. I love you, so so much, more than words will ever be able to say. I can't wait to become your wife, so that everyday for the rest of our lives, we can carry on making beautiful memories out of the little things. Every day, you give me a reason to feel love and feel grateful for being alive. I hope you realise how special you are to me, and how meaningful it is to spend my life with you, however big or small the moment is.

#personal

[wouldnt-it-be-hilarious-if-i]

2:27 am

do i ever shut up

no

anyway

aside from the previous post, i've also been thinking about therapy lol i've been looking for a therapist for the lonnnggggessst.

it's hard to find one that is lgbtq friendly, sex-positive, genuinely trauma informed, and that works with mood disorders AND ocd. thankfully, i think i might have found one (finally).

i spent the better part of the night creating a 35 slide powerpoint summarizing my trauma. i'm not sure if i should present it, or send it to her ahead of our meeting so that we just like, jump right in.

i get so tired of having to spend a literal month going over the hellscape that was my upbringing. there's just so much, and most of that trauma really doesn't affect me half as much as the new stuff. so it just feels like a waste of time even though i know it isn't.

like i want to work on my insecure attachment style

or how to stop gaslighting myself

or how to get over brain fog so i can argue an actual point

or how to manage dissociating

do y'all know how much i dissociate

a fucking lot

and i can't do that if i'm spending eighty years going over the basics of my childhood. like i don't mind touching on it and going over details, but i do mind not being able to work on my current problems bc therapists want to dig into my psyche first

like no

read the powerpoint

great you see why im batshit

now pls help me with what i'm struggling with rn

also

i've just been informed there is only ONE MONTTTTHHHHHHHH left in the semester. yike

i spent the entire month of march literally in dreamland not doing anyyyyy ooooff my work and im only just now crawling back out of that hole. i just have a few books (2) to read and two papers to write and im up 2 date. then i can work on the current projects

but i have to stop CRRRYINGGGGGGGGGGGG for long enough to do my fucking work

can u believe i have to live with myself for the rest of my life

[gotoveritstillloveyou]

Aight, so, I'm about to just fucking eviscerate myself, and I need to say some shit before I do so. In fact, the next several chapters is gonna be all dark negative shit about you and me and life and our problems. I decided to save all the cool weird shit till the end.

First of all you can't take this wrong way. This chapter is dedicated to me just saying all the things I did wrong, without any explanation unless it's absolutely required, and I'm bout to just go the fuck off on myself. It's basically a list of horrible memories and reasons to hate me. But look, everyone does bad shit, some more than others, some worse than others. Not everybody does what I'm writing though. I'm about to acknowledge my awareness of what was wrong about me, validate how it affected us, and own up to it.

In general I write and work on all the mistakes of my past and when I work on this specific project I work on all the problems we had and ways we hurt each other. That's not the whole picture. All day long all the time, I think about all our good memories and how special and great you are, that's what keeps me going. And then I gotta find answers and solutions. Those answers are hidden within the problems, and they are the things that are broken.

There are a lot of reasons I did all these things. So much of it was out of my control and just hurt me as much as it hurt anyone else. I didn't want to be feeling or acting or being like this. Some of its not like that though, some of these are just me. Just me being an asshole or me just sucking. There's no explanation or justification to any of this, but there are reasons, and those reasons do not buy any forgiveness, but at least, for the both of us, we can at least see I was truly not some psychotic asshole evil person at heart. But I'm not writing about those reasons here. I'm gonna attempt to just flat out say this shit.

That's the last couple things to keep in mind. It's one of the reasons I have chosen to continue living, these are not the things of my heart. Deep down in my heart I feel like I never skipped a beat. I have always been good in my heart. That was hard for me to accept honestly. That's how I'm trying to live my life now. None of these things truly came from my heart, they came from my ego, my pain, my stupidity, and just how I was almost forced to respond to life. I was created by my environment and I just took the worst path. I could've been forged by the fire but instead I burned.

This is the first point of order but also kinda part of the preamble. My stupidity. That is one thing that really ties this whole story together, extends from beginning to end. I'm just fucking stupid. The things I've done and the thoughts in my head and all of that, just stupid. Even now that I finally truly understand myself, and realize not everything was just a stupid mistake, but see how I slipped up, or I was misled, or reality was warped, or my mind played games on itself, or things weren't in my control, I still just feel stupid. I feel like while almost everything had a point of origin, had a long backstory, and had a set of circumstances leading it to happen, 99% of it could ALSO at the same time be explained with one thing: I'm fucking stupid. So much of this shit I think about, like this whole books worth of shit, was right in front of my fucking face and super obviously and blatant and self explanatory, yet I can see the reasons my mind missed it, but still, I'm like God DAMN what a fucking DUMBASS. I can see what led to my mistakes, that maybe they had good intentions, that maybe my failures were true attempts but failed for different reasons, and I look at my mistakes and I'm like holy shit what a fucking mouth breather. The things I've discovered and realized about you, they were really obvious at the time. Like in my mind as I discover them, it feels like I have unveiled some hidden secret and removed some illusion and found a deeper truth. Which often is truly the case. But about half of that? When I write it down in words. I'm like holy fuck what a tardo. It's like writing down "The sky is blue". And I'm still fucking stupid. I'm just stupid. I'm maybe less stupid than I was because I'm not all fucked up now, but looking back and seeing how stupid I was, that's the one thing I can't confidently say that I've fixed, I look back and see someone so fucking dumb that it's a joke to ever believe they could be less dumb. I'll get into this in the paranormal chapter, but I dont call myself a wizard for weirdo reasons, it truly is the one archetype that most closely matches the true nature of my soul, and even then, maybe one of the less talked about aspects of a wizard, but absolutely essential, is that he is the fool.

Hey me from the future here. I just spent a while writing this and then deleted it and stopped writing for a few days. I can't do it. I tried to write this out in excruciatingly overwritten detail and make it long as fuck. I just really want to own up to every single thing. I'm not gonna be able to do that. This entire couple years, I've been working through the stuff in my head and Journaling some of it. In the long run this is just my journal. Well some of those things I wrote down really fucked me up. Like a few of the longer posts in my journal set me into a 3 week long mental episode. I'm not bullshitting about what I said, I haven't just been sitting around and thinking about you occasionally and sometimes writing stuff about you. I've been reliving and regressing and examining my whole life in extended detail. Several times it has fucked me up and writing this was trying to do that and I just can't have it. I'm doing really good right now. Also, I was getting really deep into like every single bad thought in my head and they just aren't relevant. Every good thought I had during those times also had a doubt or a bad thought or something selfish, and everyone has that, and it isn't the real them, so I ain't writing that shit. Also, the times on this mental journey where processing stuff messed me up, sometimes it was just working through something tough, but a lot of times it was self imposed punishment. I don't believe my punishment is over for the way I've lived my life, but I simply can't do it to myself anymore. I did it until I was near death and felt so bad that I finally stopped and I'm not starting again. So I'm still gonna confess my sins but I'm not gonna go crazy with it. Like I said this is really just my final journal of the subject and it's directed at you but its for me, but if for some reason you've found this, and your one hang up is that I didn't say and explain every fucked up thing I did in painful levels of detail, just let me know.

Well of course it's starts at the start. Just at the start it was just me being a normal flawed dickhead, before all the crazy and evil. I didn't bullshit you on my sob story about Kammy. Yes, bitch was crazy, yes I had a TBI, yes I had just come out of a dementia tier 6 month trance. The part I left out that I was a dysfunctional dickhead. This is really the only part I'm adding explanations too, I swear. I was a fuckin asshole and bad at life and aimless and a loser and prone to agoraphobia and dissociation and tantrums of anger. Everyone hides shit like at the start. You hid a way bigger side. It's just that I lied and we saw the fruits of it. I just thought that was all due to my unhappiness and I just wasn't gonna be like that anymore it was a new me. That worked for a while.

See I got frontal lobe damage. Say someone really nice got frontal lobe damage. They would get a little meaner. It would be really obvious. Well I got frontal lobe damage so I guess everyone just thought they were finding out how mean I really was. And I'm anti-medicine and psychiatry. And I'm prone to dissociation and hiding my true thoughts. And I had childhood ptsd. And my life was already not going well and I was not putting myself into it. And THEN I got frontal lobe damage. Twice. So yeah I lied about that. I thought it was just really bad depression and when we met I was just then coming to terms with having a TBI, and thought it was just gonna be cognitive issues. No, I hit my head so fucking hard that cerebral fluid leaked out of my nose for 8 months and 5 years of my life were ruined. I just thought it was all my unhappy life with Kammys fault and I was free now and I was in control and I was gonna be a bad ass and just defeat all my demons at once.

Since this is the only time I'm gonna address the beginning of our relationship in a negative light, I wanna give it a small paragraph. I did not try to date you because you were young, or vulnerable, or the way you are. Just wanna put that out there. I know a lot of people thought that. I really have nothing else to say about that or feel any need to try and prove that. It's just true. I loved you and you're amazing, that is the only reason I wanted to be with you. No confession coming from that, but I felt one was expected, so I wanted to add this in.

Now, you were in fact vulnerable. Not gullible but like willing to listen/follow. You were vulnerable because of your situation. The only reason I liked that was just because you were down to roll and no baggage. I see the people around you take heavy advantage of your naive nature. I was always very careful with that. If I ever even broached that territory, I made sure I was being careful and not trying to fuck you around. That said I do have a confession, it's small in the grand scheme of things, but it really makes me wanna fucking puke and it's super cringe. I guess I just saw you as a girlfriend at first. Mostly this is just those typical first doubts everyone has. But I figured we would date for a year or so and I would help you out and then you could go off and find someone better for you. Like the dark side of my mind saw you as just company and temporary at first. I know this contradicts my previous story. This isn't the full story, this is my confession. This is me talking myself out of believing in the love I really felt. But then I just kept getting to know you more and realizing I really couldn't live without you. But I had just come out of this long ass relationship and then had all this fun being alone and dating, so I was just flooded with doubt and insecurity. That's not the confession. The confession is I then proceeded to try and manipulate you into some weird relationship dynamic that would put all my fears to rest and "not fuck my life up by being tied down". It was really scummy and doglike and you never were into it just went along with it to be with me. When you moved in I dropped it and that was your plan all along lol. Just being a normal dog man honestly but I feel gross for acting like that.

Now I will say I always brought up throuples. I just wanna say I never said that because I'm polyamourous or I wanted a threesome. I have legitimate justifiable reasons for that. They just didn't apply to you and I didn't see it, and always brought it up. You even brought it up a few times on your own, so did kammy. Just for me, it's more about balance. Just doesn't apply to you. You're my match. You're literally almost too much for me. Other girls aren't like that. That said I brought it up too much, and generally had a wandering eye because Im just a perv, but I shoulda kept that shit to myself. It's hurtful and degrading to say stuff like regardless of what's behind it.

I remember the first time I got mad at you and I do not regret it. I wish so bad to remember what you actually said that made me mad. I raised my voice slightly and said something very stern, slightly rude maybe. You were being disrespectful to the level of degrading. I don't regret it, but that broke the seal. Up until then,, I had just ignored you or stood my ground quietly, or at least calmly. I never should've stopped doing that.. The next couple times it happened, a few times it was the only way I was able to get my point across, and it worked. A few times were my first slip ups into my old bad self.

I only wrote that last paragraph to make a point. Anger is okay. But more than that, not being gentle is okay, standing my ground and sticking up for myself is okay. But I'm making a point. The first couple times were okay, or small mistakes. Pretty much every time after that was fucked up and wrong.

I was mean and unpleasant towards you for the rest of our entire relationship. Look you're a brat, emotional, and dramatic, and I miss all those things about you. At first it was just dealing with that, getting frustrated, or typical boyfriend girlfriend fights.

But then, I just got mean. Each day I got worse. I was the boy you loved who was so caring and thoughtful and nice. Then week by week I just got meaner.

There's a lot a reason but that's not what this is here for. It doesn't matter who's fault the anger was or what was behind it. It doesn't matter what lines I never crossed. I was mean. Over and over and over again. I chose to be mean again and again. I was just mean all the fucking time sometimes. I was mean over nothing. I snapped over nothing. I woke up already mad.

I blamed you. I blamed you for just fucking everything sometimes. I blamed you for things that you did actually do, they were you're fault, the blame was yours, but I chose to be mean about it. I insisted you did it on purpose whether you did or didn't. Sometimes you didn't didn't do anything. But regardless, I blamed you for one reason or the other, and my response was to get angry, throw a fit, withhold things from you, refuse to be nice to you, or refused to do something you asked or take you somewhere, because I blamed you and I was being fucking mean.

I held resentment too. I didn't stop blaming you or being mean about something just because the fight ended. It continued onward until you either proved me wrong or stopped doing it. And of course you didn't stop, I was being mean as fuck, you're just like me, I accused you and Kammy of doing the same thing to me: I was mean so you felt unloved, I didn't provide you an environment or chance to say sorry and change, I shamed you for it and I made it seem like our love was on the table, and that hurts, so you acted out. And then when you acted out I was twice as mean. And when you did it again I was quadruple mean, regardless if it was on purpose, on accident, or just in my head.

I was mean all the time. I yelled. I threw things. Multiple times I threw totinos pizzas or food. I stayed mad for hours.

There was a similar progression with how I dealt with your craziness. At first I was accepting and tried to help. Then it just got ridiculous. I would say one thing and you would completely shut down or lock yourself in the bathroom. At first it was like you would have an episode, or a panic attack, and I would calm you down for an hour and it still didn't work so I would try anger. And then that gap got shorter, I would try to help for a shorter time, and I wasn't just trying anger, or trying to show frustration, I was getting mad. Then there was a period where your mental episodes to me just meant we were having a fight so I fought with you, made it worse, extended it. And then there was the transitional phase where you were getting less crazy and I was getting more crazy, and at that point slowly I started thinking fuck this bitch. The second you had an issue I was like oh here we go again. If it wasn't directly related to me I would still try to help you, if you seemed legit upset. But if it was something between us I just instantly turned it into a dramatic fight and started being mean.

I did help you. By pushing you, being stubborn, maybe getting a little loud and stern. I helped you get outside more and feel better for things and be able to go do stuff without it being a big panic attack. But then I kept going. I kept pushing harder and harder. I stopped seeing you for who you really are and just wanted you to just shut up and be okay all the time. I was pushing myself so hard, and I felt you needed to be pushed that hard. So I just pushed harder and harder, got more loud, got more mean, got angry more quickly, and got more frustrated and it just grew and grew.

I wrote like a 4 page dissertation on the time I made you cry with spray cheese. I just feel so fucking bad about it. I put spray cheese on you and it triggered your autism really hard and you started crying. I almost got a little mad but then I tried to comfort you. I decided I had tried enough and you had cried enough. Really I kinda did. I tried to calm you down and make you feel better. You kept crying so I was just gonna let you cry. And you just cried more and more you just started all over from the beginning. I realize now that maybe you were just that upset, or you were crying because your heart was breaking over all the stuff going on in our lives. God it made me so made. I yelled at you to shut the fuck up. I thought you were doing it on purpose and you refused to let me comfort you and you were crying loud on purpose. I'm not giving you reasons, that's part of the confession, it's horrible that I even thought that. And even if I did think that, ptsd or not, why the fuck would I act like that. Jesus christ. A poor crying sad girl and I thought she was doing it to fuck with me so I yelled at her.

I'm getting off track but thats honestly one of the worst things I've ever done in my entire life. I was glad to be getting some writing done but I'm gonna have to stop for a while. That's one of those memories that makes me physically sick. It doesn't matter how guilty I feel BTW, that's not what I'm trying to say. It just makes me sick. What a horrible thing. A lot of people in prison for heinous crimes divorce themselves from the idea that it was the real them that did the crime. I'm not doing that. I wish I could. I wish you would call me and say you were actually doing it on purpose. But it makes me just as sick to think I did such a cruel thing, but it makes my head spin because that is also one of the clearest memories of how fucked up I was in my brain. I cannot believe the thoughts I had, the feelings I felt, and the way I acted. That is not me. I'm not divorced from shit, I did that shit, I know why I did it, I can feel myself doing it. That's not me. The real me would've let you cry for hours while holding you and did whatever it takes later to find out what was really wrong. It doesn't matter. That was so horrible and cruel. A lot of our other bad memories have at least some nuance to them, some back and forth, 2 toxic sick people, at least some semblance of a dramatic fight, not this one. It makes me feel like I am truly evil inside. I cannot imagine how bad I hurt you by doing that. I can't imagine the feelings you were feeling. To have your autism trigger and then your emotions start pouring out and me telling you to shut the fuck up and being mean. I feel like if I could feel the feelings I made you feel that night, I would actually die. I have to stop writing for a few days.

I didn't abuse you. Hold your horses before you shit yourself. There's just no part of this confession where I say "I'm your abuser I'm sorry". You can put your boots in the over and callem biscuits but that don't make it so.

I tried to ram the theory that I'm an abuser so far up my ass so many times. It just isn't true. I am a piece of shit that did bad things. I am a sick person in a bad situation. I'm an angry mean person.

You know in my edit above where I said sometimes the work and Journaling I've been doing messed me up? My story of what I've put my time into isn't bullshit. I haven't been sitting around musing about my ex girlfriend. I have been investigating, researching, and experimenting, every aspect of my life, every shadow, every part of my brain, health, ego, and every memory. I couldn't take it anymore and I had to get to the bottom of it. A lot of times this shit affected my work, my lifestyle, my health, my mental status.

You know which one fucked me up really bad? I wrote down every bad thing you did or made me feel but I used the terminology of domestic abuse and described what happened in the language of an abuse victim. It fit very very well. By the time I finished writing it I think it sent me into a spiral that lasted 6 weeks. Writing about my episodes and uncovering my trauma fucks me up, writing about good memories also particularly hurts me, but I remember this one particularly fucking me up. Don't worry, I saw through it. I explored every possibility I could think of and it was one of the dead ends.

I don't know why it fucked me up so bad. I fucking hope not because it was actually true. That it fit so well that I had to completely lie to myself and keep writing to reinforce my denial. I think it was just such a dark ending and hid too much truth. This was way before I started having revelations and improvements. So I think my brain was like NO BITCH START OVER.

An abuser is a specific kind of monster and criminal. Now, they do have "reasons" and could be self aware of them like I am. I don't call them reasons. I call them origins. They may have psychological problems, or be part of a cycle of abuse. Hint hint. But they cross a line at some point. They aren't doing it out of pathology, they aren't doing it on accident as a trauma response or a bad learned behavior. They cross a line where abuse is just what they do. I would say it's out of hatred, but I think most of them are sociopaths, so it's really out of nothing, they don't see you as a person. The things they do are cruel and intentional. They trick you into loving them, manipulate your emotions to keep you under control.

An abuser is an evil demon, who you fear, who hits you, hurts you, and then tells you it's your fault. Meeting an abuser is the same as getting mugged in an alleyway. You're a random victim of a criminal. You weren't chosen for any reason other than your victimizable. An abuser degrades, they tell you the dinner you cooked is disgusting, your body is disgusting, your stupid and its all your fault. Verbal abuse, yelling at you for no reason, they may be yelling at you about something but they are doing it for no actual reason other than to abuse you. Emotional abuse. Your emotions are nothing but a tool for them. That's the abuse cycle. They make you feel absolutely horrible and at fault about everything, make you feel bad and disgusting, that's the abuse. They make you feel worthless and not redeemable, so you must stay with them, and of course threaten to kill you if you leave. Then the literal abuse ends. They make sure you know it's all your fault, and then you have a period of peace, usually beginning by showering you with good emotions and presents. You see the "other side" of them and can't help but love them and you're being flooded with positivity. There's no other side of them, there's just an on/off switch to the literal abuse part, and trickery and manipulation. You're either scared to leave them, or in love with them during manipulated positivity, one or the other. You're never just their girlfriend. And then one day you escape. Abusers may come back for you and try to trick you back, but 99% of them disappear forever and find a new victim within 6 months, that's an fbi statistic. Abusers don't feel remorse. Maybe they can change, but personally I don't think they can. That line can't be uncrossed. The abuser, in their mind, is fully justified in their behavior. They think they did the right thing. There's no struggle, it's not a hard relationship that didn't work out, it was a stage play where they are the lead role and you're a side character that deserved what they got and you're the one that abandoned them.

What I did was bad. I was a real piece of shit. I hurt you a lot and made you cry. You hit me with some pretty bad shit. I didn't do that though. I almost kinda think what I did was worse, which is what this rant is leading up to. If I could just say to myself yeah my behavior was abuse, I coulda ended this whole thing right there. I tried pretty hard to do that. If I was able to come to that conclusion, I would have nothing to say to you. I wouldn't have you on my mind anymore either. This story would've wrapped up cleanly 8 months ago with a nice bow on top. I would've known exactly what to do for myself as well. Paradoxically, and only because it's not true, my heart would've put an end to this story. Abusers don't have good hearts, that's why it's a paradox, and abuser would just carry on as normal. But if I landed on that the solution would've been simple. Either I would have stopped working on myself, no longer any motivation either because of you, or to have a woman in my future. I would never let it happen again. Or, I would have just killed myself, like all abusers should have. Now, I did damn near accept you as my abuser, like I said it lines up very well. I looked at my own behavior and was like nah, doesn't line up. Bad, should feel bad, maybe should kill myself anyway, but doesn't line up. Yours lined up, but I looked deeper, I know what happened now, photo finish on that one, glad I kept going, turned out good.

I was manipulative, as I've already confessed. You're stubborn and feral. My manipulation was good hearted, my manipulation was me trying to train you to live better and act better. And then, life got worse, and my illness got worse, and my manipulation did become very mean, the good intentions remained, but so did Ghengis Kahns good intentions. My teaching truly did become manipulation and pressure and anger. I also manipulated you to try to prove my PTSD fears untrue.

I yelled at you. I yelled really loud and angrily at you. What was I yelling about though? One of two things, either literally our exact relationship problems and the solutions to them, a good talk we needed to have, except I was fucking yelling because I was insane, and you weren't listening because I was yelling. Or, I yelled about all the fucked up shit in my head, an overflow of all the shit I was repressing.

It's embarrassing to say, but yeah we had those toxic dramatic moments that both toxic and abusive couples had, but they were fucking temper tantrums like a 5 year old. Now, that doesn't really describe well the content of what was in my head, or what was going on in our lives, but those peak moments of drama were essentially a really gigantic toddler fucking losing his shit in a really skilled fashion.

I never insulted you, degraded you, I never talked about your body, your mind, I never insinuated that your some piece of shit is the reason we are having the issue. I know some of my behavior may have scared or disturbed you, and undoubtedly it damaged you and hurt your heart, but you were never scared of me. You know what you did during these fights? Well a lot of times you fought back. In fact, a lot of these memories weren't just me having and episode, they were you having an episode, or us having a fight, or 2 really weird crazy people in a little house freaking the fuck out. Sometimes, you just sat there and cried, or defended yourself. Sometimes, you fucking hit me, through shit at me or around the house.

I did blame you for things. I blamed you for things you did, and blame is not how a relationship works, accountability is, and yelling is not how it works, talking is. But I blamed and yelled. I blamed you for things you did not do. I blamed you for things that were legitimate miscommunication or confusion, except instead of talking about it, and figuring it out, I was a piece of shit to you about it. I also blamed you for things that were 100% true in my mind, because my mind was broken. I blamed you for doing things that kammy did to me, because while maybe she didn't exactly purposely abuse me, she left such a litany of fucked up shit behind in my mind that there's no other word for it.

Abusers escalate. Our life did get worse. It wasn't an escalation of abuse. It was a progression of my mental illness, our life getting worse, and all the things stacking up and compounding. I ran. As it got worse, I started fucking running away. The episodes and delusions got worse, so when they happened, I started fucking running away half way through. I definitely was getting louder, and getting really prone to smashing shit, it was getting way way worse, so I did that shit, but something in me was like OH FUCK so I started running away. I remember one instance where the second I snapped I just fucking ran. You shoved me and yelled at me but I just felt that fucked up feeling and ran. I can remember also feeling fucked up and just putting my shoes on and leaving a bunch of times.

There was that one time, that time I burned myself with cigarettes. That's a different fucked up different thing for a different chapter.

An abuser traps you. They either manipulate you into staying, or threaten you to leave. I broke up with you every time I had an episode. After the episode I tried to get you to leave. I threatened you once, during the mentioned cigarette incident. I said every fucked up thing I could just to get you out of the house. The night the neighbor called the cops on us, I locked you out. I think that was my worst mental breakdown. I was trying to get you to leave. I was trying to end this. I didn't truly think it was your fault, I either thought it was my fault or some kind of mental problem. I just wanted it to end. I tried to get you to go home for a few months, or break up with you, or kick you out, or run away. I put every effort I had left into trying to figure out my problem and make it stop. I kept trying for 2 fucking years after you left to fix it until I finally did. I broke up with you. You did not escape me. I broke up with you and you finally left and I rambled incoherent bullshit to you on discord and never once tried or asked for you to come back.

Maybe an abuser would use this strategy, write this whole ass thing to try to get you back. They would be lying first of all. That's what abusers do. The abuse happens, then they fake how sorry it is but also gaslight/blame you. There was no abusive cycle with us. There was no up and down circular abuse cycle. It just straight sucked. The next day I did say how sorry I was and how scared I was and that I was gonna try really hard to fix it. I never once said it was because of you. I never flooded you with good emotions or gifts. Nope. The next day we just had the same fucking problems. The next whole month we had the same fucked up life, with occasional good memories or moments of chillness. And then one of us had another breakdown, or fight. That was the cycle. Two crazy kids getting fucked over by poverty and losing their minds together.

So just deal with it. I didn't abuse you. You basically almost abused me. That's just not what was happened. Maybe it's pathological of me to focus so hard on what the truth is. But its not the truth. When I find the truth, I accept it. I'm not working my way around it. This is the most life changing experience that happened to me ever and when I'm done rebuilding myself it's gonna influence the course of my entire life, and that will NOT be based on a lie or a rationalization, and if these memories are gonna fuck with me they are gonna fuck with me correctly.

You have been abused before. It was easy to tell yourself that all that happened was you got abused again. It was definitely easy to explain this complicated ass shit to other people. If that's what you had to tell yourself to keep going, fine. But you were there. I don't write this to trick you, I write this to give myself closure, and I kinda think none of this even matters to you at all, but I write this to in fantasy land also give you closure.

Now that I said that, let me invalidate all of it. If you felt abused, then you were abused. If you want to tell me what I did was abuse, I will listen, and I will accept it. You were undoubtedly my victim, I was also your victim, I was also my own victim, and you were the victim of the consequences and expressions of what I was a victim of. If you felt abused, you were, and I'm the abuser. I would rather you didn't think that. I don't think it's true enough, but you own your own truth. I would rather you think that I'm a piece of shit that hurt you really bad, a failure, a loser, a hurtful mean asshole, someone that betrayed you and let you down and fucked you over. All those things are true, I don't believe I abused you. I never did this out of hate, I never crossed that line, and I tried to stop it and didn't want it to happen. I'm an absolute curmudgeon, asshole, violent, dickhead, shitty piece of shit, and I hurt the fuck out of you forever and ever. It can't be undone and what we call it doesn't matter.

I think what I did is worse. I think all the shit I listed before the abuse rant is really fucking bad. In some fucked up way it would almost be better if those actions were out of abuse. Then it was just abuse and not your fault, and I'm an abuser so just throw me in the trash and forget all the memories, they are just trauma. That's softer than the truth. The truth is I was just a guy you loved that was an incredibly hurtful jerk asshole. Just by being himself. And you know what, a lot of it wasn't our faults. It was situational or an accident. That's fuckin horrible. That's like dropping a baby on its head.

Nah, I think it's still worse. With what I know now, now that I'm no longer insane, now that I know who you are and know who I am, I think what I know now is worse. We have both been brats and assholes our whole lives, and we both have had people abuse us our whole lives. Nah. This is worse.

It's that shit at the beginning. When we met. You were stuck out in that town, you felt like your family was abusing you, the one friend you had her boyfriend tried to rape you and she was manipulating you. Then this guy shows up and he has all the same interests as you. You were sitting around bored and sad and lonely and rotting away. He came and swooped you up. But then, you were nuts. But it didn't scare him off. Nah. You told him your secrets and things about yourself you were scared to say and he was like oh cool that's no big deal. He promised you this big dream life. Yall were gonna be a team and treat each other right. He was so interesting and you were telling people how cool he was and showing them this cool book he gave you. He got you a house and you started going crazy in there and he was always there to calm you down and help you work through it. You started feeling better and better, losing weight, skin glowing up, free from all the boredom and abuse you had at home. Things were tough and weren't always great but slowly we we learning things and putting our life together, making little improvements to our house, setting up little things we wanted, he planted you a garden, got you a guinea pig.

Then slowly, day by day, he betrayed you. You watched this guy that you thought was so amazing just slowly lose his mind, slowly the house got nastier and his attitude got nastier. Less and less he acted like that guy you met. More and more he blamed you. Life got less fun and more sad, you missed your home, you never got anything fun to. He got worse and worse, more loud, directed more at you. He wasn't even the guy you remember. The dream was dying. He used to be the guy that wasn't like the others and would never hurt you, no matter how hard you tried to test him or drive him crazy he always said look I love you get over it ill always love you we will figure this out. But he was so far from that. Now he was the guy that would hurt you over something you didn't even do, something that was just in his head. You had struggles at first together, but you were able to learn and figure them out together, and it made us both proud when we fixed a problem. But now, it's the same problem, every day, but worse each time. He used to be the guy that would take you camping and stomp around naked chasing a possum in the woods, the guy that would take you driving and stop to save a turtle off a road. Now he just lays there like a log. He brought you to this cool town and took you to all different stores and new places to eat but now he just lays there and gets mad if you ask for anything. When yall met you didn't have any money for yourself but he always took you to get a pony or a calico critter and some eyelashes but now he won't even pay to get your nails done, once, ever. He used to hold you until you stopped crying but now he tells you to shut the fuck up. You used to do fun projects together but now he just blows money on fish crap and makes the house a mess.. He was your guy, your favorite person, the guy that always showed up to save you and always helped you and always was gentle and took his time and always took you on an adventure but now he just lays there like a log and yells at you and is always mad and always drunk.

I can't imagine what that betrayal felt like. Watching everything go sideways and backwards and watching the person you finally gave your heart and trust to just mash it up with a hammer.

Well I do because it happened to me too but that's not my point. You loved me and would do anything for me and I made you so happy and I ruined it all. You watched me lose my sanity and become an evil zombie right before your eyes. You just wanted it to stop and you wanted your boy back but you didn't know what to do and he blamed it all on you and it all got ruined. What a fucking nightmare.

And I think of this sweet special girl. I remember you being really hard to put up with, really hard to figure out, hard to find the key too. But I just always felt that weird synchronicity, I felt like God damn she is so weird and complicated but I actually understand her exactly and know exactly what to do. I'm the guy for her and I'm glad I found her because I know bad people would do a really bad job at dealing with her. I remember this naive girl, her emotions were big, so when she gave her trust she gave all of it, or she would do anything to not lose a friend. So I saw people take advantage of it, I saw her get hurt and manipulated and put in bad situations. She was pure and honest and the people around her weren't. That's why she keeps getting in trouble. So I knew she had my trust, and would follow me, and thought I was smart and knew better so she would listen to me, and she never wanted to lose me so she would do whatever it takes. So I took that trust, like a delicate crystal, and I said I'm gonna make sure I always take care of her, if she listens to me then I'm gonna tell her the right thing, and I'm always gonna be careful and true and gentle and do life right by her.

And now I'm gone. First, I fucked all that up, and now I'm gone. And I gotta sit here and worry that she will be with someone that will abuse her and she will stay because she loves them and forgives them for it. I gotta think about her manipulative friend and wander what kinda bad situation she will get in. I gotta hope that maybe she meets someone nice that will protect her but I just can't imagine what kind of strange creature she would have to meet that would really understand her problems, and really appreciate the good and best things about her.

And I remember this really cool girl I fell in love with. She would go hunt for bones in the forest, or go drive around at night, go to burger king stoned at 3am, go hang out the anime festival, and she had her bedroom how she liked it. And I took that from her, and suppressed it, and made her boring, and made her life boring. And I remember a girl that loved her family and being around them so much and I took her away from them and wasted her time. I remember a girl that had big dreams and big desires and lots of hobbies and I took those all away and said no to everything either because I couldn't afford it or I was sick and an asshole.

I remember a girl that loved me so much and tried to give me her everything and I just yelled at her and hurt her. A girl that would've gone with me anywhere and I never took her anywhere. A girl that would've truly accepted me for who I am but instead I hid it from her and let it turn into evil inside of me. A girl that was so beautiful and so amazing and probably just the coolest ever but I never told her that because I was scared. A girl I thought the whole world of and lived my life for except I never showed her that and now I'm just another one of her bad memories.

I look at who I am and who I'm becoming, and my real self. Someone you never met and someone I totally forgot about, yet somehow, pretty much the guy you loved. Somehow you knew who he was underneath all this shit. I'm starting to remember him and find little pieces of him. It disgusts me. I think this is the thing I feel worse about. Worse than all the other things, because those things wouldn't have happened if I was that guy. There's really no good way to explain this to you, but I know it's true. You can't even get it I think. It would sound like a lie. But yeah. You fell in love with one of of good parts of me, and didn't care about my problems or how I looked. Definitely I'll probably never look like your dream guy. But in my heart? I can't describe this guy but any other way than this. He's you. He's your imaginary friend. He is so much like the real you, it's like it's two parts of the same soul. The real true me, that I hid away from the world, that all this bad shit happened to and twisted up. He is you. It matches your soul and everything I miss about you. He would've said yes to everything you ever asked him. He would've watched a Disney princess movie with you like he was your best friend and you were 7 years old on summer vacation. He would've laughed at everything you showed him. He would've made you so many bead bracelets your arm would fall off. It freaks me out. I've thought so long on who you really are, and who I really am, and this part of me that is so deep down that I didn't even know its there, and that deepest part. It's you man. It's fucking you. Its like someone you would dream up to be your best friend. And for me, I'm gonna explore that more and try to bring him out. But you'll never get to meet him. Its like Santa is real and left a Christmas present under the tree just for you and God tied a bow around it, and I snuck in the window and stole it and fucking threw it off a bridge and yelled at you instead.

Thank you by the way. Just wanna throw a thank you in there. Thought I knew myself so well and that I was gonna teach you how to fight life like me, and then kick it's ass together. Instead, life won, and you taught me so fucking much about myself it's ridiculous.

And then there's the worst thing of all.

I'm stupid and my problems were stupid. The situation we were stuck in didn't have an easy answer, but making it through it together was far from impossible. I doubted that you loved me and now that my eyes are clear I can look back now and see that you loved the fuck out of me. I thought you weren't trying and didn't care but I look back and see you trying your hardest and never giving up. I tested your love with my bullshit over and over again and you still stuck around and obviously loved me. You always picked me no matter what was happening. You never once talked about leaving me. I look back at the problems I had searched to solve for 20 years and they all had simple answers. Mostly. The journey was hard to get those answers but that was my own fucking fault. I basically could've stopped being a stupid bitch at any time and the answers would've shown themselves. I didn't understand what was going on in my head and all I had to do was tell you. I kept it all a big secret. I kept it a secret from then one person on earth that would've understood and then you would've understood what was happening and been able to help. I needed your help but refused to let you or ask you. I loved you more than anything but I refused to tell you because I thought you would use it against me. I thought you were so cool and I enjoyed everything about you so much but refused to tell you because your ego was too big.

Basically, this whole thing was complicated as fuck and hard as fuck to figure out but the solution was simple and right in front of me. It's my fault for making it hard and loud and complicated and it's my fault for being blind.

There was one simple solution and I don't even care that there was a million things that hid it from me and misled with me. I'm a dumbass.

All I had to do was trust you. Tell you the bad thoughts I felt. Told you the good things I thought about you and how much I loved you. And you woulda been like oh OK no problem. All I had to do was stop drinking and eat better and go to a few doctors. All I had to do was be truthful and honest for you. That's it. All I had to do was not choose anger. Even if you had a hard time understanding me, or believing me, or tried to drive me crazy, all I had to do was admit to myself, and admit to you, how much I really loved you. All I had to do was stop living in fear and try to protect myself and see that right in front of my eyes is exactly what I think it is but won't except, the girl of my dreams, the girl I want to be with. All I had to do was put you first l, and put us staying together first, and this would be a beautiful love story. The situation wouldn't have changed, but we would've made the best of it and been good to each other, and things eventually would've gotten better, and we would be all good now and still together.

But no. That's not what I did. I kept secrets. I chose anger every time I had the chance to. I denied my feelings. I denied you the truth. I denied you encouragement and kind words. I kept loving you a big secret because I thought you didn't love me back so I wasn't gonna love you openly. I hid my problems and secrets and good things and bad things from you. I let my fears be reality, I didn't let the truth be reality. I was scared about things, and decided they were real, and that you were doing them. And now I sit here without you, you're gone forever, I hurt and betrayed you, and I write long rambling books about you like a fucking freak, when we could literally just be happy and have a good time. I chose darkness and pain over love and happiness. I hurt you.

My victory in my personal journey is fucked. I resent it. For so long, long before I met you, I felt so wrong inside, my life was so wrong. I DONT take accountability for that like I take accountability for our problems. I take accountability for SOME of it. But, I was fucked, my life fucked me, my brain fucked me, my molesters fucked me, the bullies fucked me, my bosses fucked me, and I decided you were just another person here to fuck me. But I was right. There was something wrong with my body, and I fixed it. There was something wrong with my mind, my brain, my psychology, my lifestyle, my life, my perception. I spent 20 years trying to fix it, and I finally did. So now I know it's possible. I know if I chose to not be a dumbass mean ass stupid fucking bitch, I could've done everything we planned to do, that whole goal we set our for to have a better life and be better people. I fucking did it. A year after you left. Nah not while the love of my life and the best friend I ever had was literally 5 feet away from me. Nah Nah. That would make too much sense. No my stupid fuckint ass chose to be shitty and keep suffering and hurt the fuck out of her and myself and she left forever, THEN I fixed it. I always thought these weren't things that could change and fix and I fixed them, it only cost me everything, it only came at the consequence of hurting the fuck out of you and the losing you, it only came at the cost of abusing myself and letting my life go so bad that I went into extreme debt, destroyed my life, killed all my pets, ruined my future, and created a horrible irredeemable past. THEN I fixed it all. I walk into my nice clean cool little house smelling good looking good with money in my pocket, full of energy, ready to cook or play or go somewhere, just got home from my good ass consistent job that let's me do my own thing and pays a lot for it, just living in the freedom of having a brain that works and a mind that's not trying to make me kill myself and a body that doesn't feel like molasses. And I don't deserve it, and it cost too much, and I have blood on my hands, and I should've done it for you, and you should be sitting there with a big glowing smile happy to see me and say we can go to daiso and Williams chicken and I say yeah sure let's go! I am nothing, I have nothing, I am the worst person that has ever lived. I am Diogenes of Texas. I worked my whole life to fix my problems and I hurt everyone around me. I completed everything I sought to do for 20 years and I destroyed everything around me. I pushed every good thing out of my life and ruined ever good chance I had. I hurt the fuck out of people, I am a bad memory in everyone's head. That's why I'm Diogenes. I finally did what I set out to do and got it all, but truly I have nothing, I live in a barrel, I have a lantern to light my path at night, and a cat sometimes comes by to keep me company. I am a wretch, a villain, and victimizer, and an oathbreaker. It was all my fault and it was at the cost of the trauma of those around me. I don't deserve the things I have or achieved, and I deserve the hell that I've made for myself. We could've had a beautiful love story, a lifelong friendship, a big ass romantic redemption arc, and a cool ass life life lots of smiles and fun and a big garden and lots of cute pets and fun memories and adventures and cool stuff, but because of ME and ME ALONE and by no others fault but MINE, we had a painful, unfixable, disgusting stinky hurtful memory of failure and remorse. That is my sin.

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