#Even if they end up fucking up and doing something horrible

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[d4minnie]

Pls part 2 w happy ending w Satoru beating up Suguru😭😭🥺

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Afab!Reader

Warnings or idk??: Fluff, Angst & Violence

Wc: 658

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT I WAS DOING IN THIS LMFAO😭??

MINORS DNI

You had just woken up from that traumatic incident, curling into yourself and sobbing until your eyes burned from tears. After a while, you stumbled into the bathroom to clean up. The sight of the bed, still a mess from before, was a painful reminder of what had happened. You felt sick, horrible, and dirty. Dressed in your clothes, you were shocked to find Satoru in the living room. What’s he doing here? Does he know what happened? Of course he does—just look at how sad he is! What if he doesn’t believe me?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang as Satoru slammed his fist on the table. "So are you just going to keep quiet?"

"Liste—"

"Shut up! I can’t fucking believe you—on our bed, too?!"

He started to walk away, but you grabbed his arm. "N-no, wait! Please listen to me!"

"Shut the fuck up."

"You have to understand—he forced me!" You saw his ears perk up at that.

"Forced?"

"Yes! He barged in and grabbed me. I’m sorry! I should’ve fought back harder, but I swear it was never willingly!"

Satoru connected the dots—the open front door, the shattered glass, the sniffles he heard from your shared bedroom after you woke up. He felt like an idiot. How could he have believed Suguru without even asking you first?

"Oh my god." He hugged you tightly as you sobbed into his shoulder.

"I’m so sorry, Satoru." you cried.

"It’s not your fault. Don’t worry; I’ll fix this. Let’s watch a movie, and you can take a rest afterward, okay?"

"Okay."

He nodded and got up to go to the store for some snacks. As he was about to leave, you muttered something he barely heard.

"Hm?"

"Stay, please," you said, fiddling with the blanket draped over you.

"Sure." He settled back down next to you, and you both cuddled while watching the movie. No snacks mattered—just the comfort of being close to each other. After you fell asleep, Satoru gently laid you down before heading out to confront Suguru.

Satoru was fuming; his usual playful demeanor was gone. He banged on Suguru’s door, not even giving the half-awake Suguru a chance to speak Satoru's fist connected with Suguru's mouth, leaving him momentarily stunned. Before Suguru could react, Satoru punched him again, his fury overwhelming any rational thought. He kept pounding Suguru's face until his face looked unrecognisable, making it look like it had exploded.

"How CRACK! fucking SMACK! dare WHACK! you THWACK! touch CRUNCH! my CLANK! wife!" Satoru yelled, each punch showing how mad he was.

Suguru collapsed to the floor, unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Satoru stood over him, breathing heavily. He stomped on Suguru's head, causing more blood leak out of him before he spat on him and muttered "That was for my wife" and leaving him there.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

God. This is so heartwrenching.

[rapidhighway]

every time I come back home I experience new mental illnesses -_-

[miodiodavinci]

there’s a more correct way of saying it though

[the-casbah-way]

FINALLY finished my outline for prodigal son it’s going to end up way longer than i planned </3

[genshin-projection]

i don't think i can be normal about Sunday guys

[non-un-topo]

Spending hours trying to figure out why I feel so irritable and sensitive today and I’m only realizing now it might have something to do w being invited to a birthday party full of an entire family I’ve never met and like seven very small children and the person inviting me assuming I would love that. I want to support her bc I like her and she’s family now, but I cannot---I will not---go to another family event and be pushed into the kitchen doing dishes with the women or cooing over someone’s baby who just stares at me and whines when I try to mask and say hello.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

people begging me to do something to make a certain someone happy aren’t taking into account that i hate this person and i will revel in the knowledge that i kept them from getting the most perfect version of what they wanted. in fact i hope they mourn the loss of this for the rest of their life and die unhappy about it

[widevibratobitch]

i hate them with a passion

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[hussyknee]

Can't imagine ever feeling bad about being single when Reddit exists. Today in cis het men are hot garbage.

Tw for traumatic childbirth, medical trauma, coercion, gaslighting and medical abuse and fucking troglodyte manchild of a husband. Jesus fucking Christ.

[v-arbellanaris]

i think the problem (?) is that the only kind of (fictional?) love that interests me is the kind of love that changes the world. the kind of love that derails the narrative, the kind of love that changes everything -- not necessarily by how special or unique the love is but by the very mundanity of it. the love that grows, not in spite of the barren lovelessness of Before, but out of it. i think that's why I'm always so invested in ships that are two people diametrically opposed to each other, or enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, or two people on separate sides of the morality issue coin, because i love it when love... not that it changes a person but it allows the person to Become. the space, the grace, to change. to love the monster, to love the unlovable and the intolerable, is to make it something other than a monster, than unlovable, than intolerable. i love it when being loved at your worst, ugliest, most horrible self is what makes you want to be someone worth loving. like is this ANYTHING to anyone or

[fionnaskyborn]

one day when i am not busy dying on the inside and out i will write an honest-to-god essay about how people are, for the lack of a better descriptor but simultaneously for the lack of a more perfect one, too edgy about five.

[julioclaudian]

something is just like wrong with me and i deserve to be put down i think

[brainjuicey]

my mind is so funny for making me relive my worst nightmares and memories everytime I go to sleep