List of “presenting: an overthinker” prompts
“Do they actually like me?”
Mind racing with a million thoughts about the possibility of things, and being scared they’ll actually happen, even if they are irrational as all hell.
“So I… You know what, don’t worry about it.” “Are you sure? Because when you say that, that makes me worry more.”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do I even deserve any of this?”
The constant need for reassurance, and even that isn’t enough to keep your thoughts at bay.
Feeling the need to apologise for something you didn’t even do wrong.
Sitting in your anxiety and muddled up thoughts for hours when you don’t get a reply from that one person in a timely manner; wondering if you’ve fucked it all up with whatever you’ve said.
Reaching out to them multiple times and making your spiral worse when they stay silent on you.
It gets to the point where your overthinking feeds into your already growing anxiety, overwhelming you and eventually drawing tears out of you.
It gets so bad to the point where your chest feels tight, you feel numb and the world around you eventually becomes a monotonous blur because you’re too focused on this one thing you’re overthinking about.
The rational subconscious of yours tries to drag you back to the side where things are okay and it’s really not that bad because it really isn’t that bad, but that small, irrational part of you takes ahold of you and continues to anchor you down.
You try to redirect your thoughts and it works for a bit… But then you eventually come back around to those thoughts. Sometimes, redirecting doesn’t work so you end up drowning in your own head.
Wondering if you’re being annoying by reaching out, even though you’ve been holding yourself back quite a lot, knowing you’re not being too much at all. Far from it, in fact.
There are days when you so desperately wish you can escape your brain. Crawl out of your own skin, be someone who isn’t… Whatever the fuck this is.
“I don’t want to be too much. I don’t want to need constant reassurance. It’s as suffocating for you as it is for me, maybe even more so, because I’m living in my own head, constantly. And it’s not something I can fucking just get out of overnight.”
“I need to end this for my own good.”
Drowning in your own never-ending spiral of negative thoughts.
“Do you even care? Do you still love me? Does any of this even…”
“I’m sorry that/I hate that my brain is wired this way.”
Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation
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ALSO !!!! ALAO ALSO ALSOOOO!!!!!
BLOODMOON'S LAST WORDS WERE KINDA HUGE TO ME. Like it can absolutely be interpreted just as Bloodmoon saying "fuck you fuck everyone we'd never side with you all and stop killing, even if it would be the best thing in the world" but what I personally gathered from it is that Bloodmoon woulda been fine with any "redemption" outcome as long as they weren't restricted from killing.
They didn't wanted to be "saved" and "redeemed" because they were totally fine with how they were living and they'd already found ways to work with their code and each other, they already felt safe and happy. Like, yea them killing people is fucked up, but you can't ask the robot called Bloodmoon to never know the taste of iron on their tongue again. They were built for that, they were built to love meat and gore and viscera!!
So, to me, his last words read more a confession that Bloodmoon can switch to the "good" side, they could absolutely work alongside the celestial family and foxy and monty and so on, but it's unfair to ask them to betray their very base coding and completely stop murdering for the rest of their life. Once again, I am HEARTILY proposing that someone just let them hunt game bc they were CLEARLY okay with setting on fish a few episodes ago.
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Eren Jaeger is charming.
You rationalize to yourself that it’s because he works in sales—when he smiles at you, when he flirts, when he touches your arm—you’re supposed to fall in love with him. He wouldn’t be good at his job if you didn’t.
And of course, Eren’s girlfriend is stunning.
Dark-cropped hair to highlight her sharp jawline, a body crafted from hours at the gym and careful attention to diet, and tits bigger than your head. She’s beautiful, she’s perfect, and the two of them look flawless together in all of Eren’s photos hung in his office. The two of them seem like the ideal couple. They're madly in love and aren’t afraid to broadcast it to the world.
The only problem is, she’s not you.
But when you start to see the cracks in their flawless public facade, you find an opportunity to tilt things in your favour.
Your boss asks you to stay late a few nights each week to help do some filing while the bookkeeper is on maternity leave. It’s not rocket science and you’re able to figure it out without direction, but it takes a few hours and you’re usually the last person to leave each night.
Usually.
Recently, you’ve noticed that Eren has been staying at work late. He’s typically the type to clock out the second the clock hits 4 pm, so his change in behaviour leaves you curious.
His office is nowhere near the filing cabinets, but if you take the long way back to your desk at reception, you get to walk past his office. His door is always closed but he keeps the blinds on the window open, so when you make your way past you catch glimpses of him staring angrily at his computer screen, or his phone, or resting his chin on his hand as he scribbles on some papers.
What could he possibly be working on so late at night? Sales were down this year due to supply-chain issues, so he should be leaving work earlier, not staying late.
Your curiosity grows like a weed and you find yourself staying late on nights that you don’t need to. Keeping yourself occupied with busy work and walking past Eren’s office as many times as you can. You know that your persistence will eventually yield more information.
One night, your patience pays off.
When you walk down the hall toward Eren’s office, you notice that his door is sitting half-open. It's unusual—he always closes it when he works late.
You slow your steps, approaching his door carefully and cautiously and praying that your shoes don’t make noise on the tile until you’re close enough to his doorway to hear his deep voice mumbling into the phone.
He’s arguing with someone, that much you can tell, even when you can’t make out exact words. His tone is harsh—angry—and you quickly realize that he’s talking to his precious girlfriend. The one he posted a picture of on Instagram yesterday—her sitting at a cafe, wrapped in a dark red scarf with just a simple hashtagged caption.
Eren spits out each syllable of her name like he can’t tolerate how it feels on his tongue. His voice gets louder but you still can’t quite make out what he’s saying over the rushing of blood in your ears. You bite your tongue and hold your breath, desperate to know more, and accidentally find yourself pushing the door open further as you lean against it.
Dark green eyes meet yours instantly, but his tone doesn’t waver as he speaks on the phone. He wraps up the conversation quickly, throwing his phone down onto his desk when he hangs up.
He doesn’t look at you after that and you make slow, cautious movements toward him as you apologize profusely for eavesdropping. You explain that you’ve never heard him speak like that to someone before and you were just worried it was something serious.
Eren grunts in response and covers his face with his hands, resting his elbows on his desk as he breathes out with a huff.
You move closer—soft, slow steps like you're afraid he might run off—until you’re making your way around to the back of his desk. You seat yourself on the wood, crossing your legs until your knee brushes against his arm and he finally looks up at you.
He looks defeated and you feel a sick sense of victory brewing in your gut.
You offer him some words of comfort and a soft smile as you reach out to rest your hand on his shoulder. You’re surprised when he melts into your touch, gaze wavering slightly as he looks up at you.
Feeling bold, you gently stroke down his arm, running your hand up and down along his bicep, feeling the firm muscle underneath the thin fabric of his dress shirt. You swear you can see his breath catch in his throat when you bring your hand back up to his shoulder, fingering softly at the collar of his shirt.
He thanks you for being kind and asks that you keep this to yourself. He doesn’t need Karen from accounting to know the details of his relationship problems.
Of course, Eren. Your secret is safe with me. Always.
He smiles up at you and rests his hand on yours. It’s warm and heavy against your skin and when you intertwine your fingers with his, he doesn’t pull away.
You can be charming, too.
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