#i did the thing my mom told me repeatedly since i was a kid in case of a shooting

[tittyinfinity]

Sometimes I forget about the time I was almost killed by a sniper because of a fight between two other people

[daughter-of-sapph0]

I said it before in a previous rant, but I feel like this story needs repeating for no particular reason whatsoever.

my middle school was very small. there was only one class of 18 kids in the entire 6th grade. we had to deal with each other every single day. I only started this school in 6th grade, but some of these kids have known each other since pre-k. so when I joined, I was a stranger, an outcast, someone different. and having undiagnosed autism did not help at all.

one of my classmates was named Jacob. he was the only kid shorter than me. but he was an aggressive bully. every day, he'd grab me, slap me, pull my hair. he'd torment me physically, call me names, the whole shebang. typical bully stuff. there was never a reason for this, other than I was a new kid. I was a faggot. I was a downey. I was a retard. I was a sissy. I was a pussy. I was "the other". I think Jacob somehow knew I was trans and queer about five years before I did, and treated me as you'd expect.

every single day, I'd complain to my teachers and the principal. "Jacob is bullying me. he's hitting me, calling me names, harassing me, even after I tell him to leave me alone". and the responses I got did not help.

"just leave. walk away" gee, thanks. I'd love to. unfortunately I'm stuck in a classroom with him all day. unless you're gonna let me go home early, your advice is worthless.

"stop being a tattletale" and just let him continue to bully me? wow, thanks for being a supportive adult figure in my life...

and I'll never forget what my hardcore conservative catholic principal said to me. "if you don't want him to call you a faggot, then stop being a faggot".

in all of these situations of begging for help, not once did Jacob ever face consequences for his actions. even when I showed them the bruises and horrible notes he gave me. even when the harassment happened right in front of the teachers. the most he would ever receive is "hey, both of you, stop fighting!" even though it was always one sided and I never fought back.

until one day on the bus. he was in the seat behind me, poking my head, slapping me, trying to get my attention. I was already pissed that day, and Jacob was only making things worse. I told him to stop. repeatedly. to just leave me alone. but he didn't.

without thinking about it, I tried to swat away his hands. but I ended up brushing my hand against his face. he interpreted this as a slap. he immediately got off the bus at his stop and ran home crying.

that afternoon, my mom got a phone call saying that I was at risk of being expelled. apparently, Jacob had told his parents that I had beat him up, and his parents called the school.

in the end, because of my accidental unintentional "slap" that I had only done because I was angry and wanted to be left alone and stop being bullied, I was suspended for a week, forced to write a handwritten apology note to Jacob, and fell behind in my classes.

Jacob was never punished. he never faced consequences for his actions. he was always seen as the victim by adults. I was the aggressor since I was mad and complained about being bullied.

soon after this, I attempted suicide. I backed out, thankfully. but I can't stop thinking about how my life almost ended because no one cared about the harassment I faced.

being harassed, and having no one do anything about it, which causes you to get angry until you act a tiny bit irrational and upset, and suddenly you're punished much harder than your attackers ever were and ever will be.

I'm saying this for no reason at all. it totally doesn't apply to any real life situations happening right now on tumblr.

[wolfythewitch]

So I volunteer at a Sunday school (an area at church young kids stay at so they wouldn't disrupt the service) and it's so interesting seeing the difference with how rowdy kids are treated. The adults will just repeatedly tell them to behave and occasionally physically force them to sit down, the kids will bounce them on their laps to distract them and point out colorful things in the room.

A kid was having a breakdown because he wanted to take home a toy and his mom was trying to make him put it back. I asked him about it and while on the verge of tears he told me that another teacher said that he could keep it. His mom didn't believe him and he kept insisting he was telling the truth, and getting more frantic with each line, almost shouting it. I told him I believed him and asked him which teacher it was then calmly explained that there was probably a misunderstanding with her wording since the toy wasn't ours, but that he could come back next week and play with it again. He smiled and said "okay!" and put it back immediately.

There was this kid a while back who used to come during my shifts and she would constantly run around and yell and grab the mic from the teacher and cuss them out (I don't think she even knew what the words meant. I think it's the environment she grew up in). I would have her sit on my lap and bounce it up and down really fast and she found it fun! She'd look for me at the back of the room to bounce on my leg, and I'd let her on the condition that she try to keep quiet so it wouldn't disrupt the lesson. And she did, quietly giggling to herself as I bounced her faster and faster, but didn't scream again

Idk it's just interesting. I think we need to listen to these kids more often instead of just telling them stuff

[honeymoonavsstuff]

(english is not my first lenguage so sorry for eventual errors)

The sunlight illuminated the big house, while the sweet laughter of a newborn filled the room. Some family friends asked you to babysit their six month old and you were super excited. You loved children and spending time with them so much. So you asked JJ to keep you company, that loved spending time with you, so he accepted without fully understanding that your attention would fully be on the baby for the entire afternoon.

“God, aren’t you just the cutest thing ever?” a toothless mouth smiled at you while you tickled Bella’s neck. You noticed that she loved being held and when you kissed her cheeck, so you were doing that repeatedly.

“I am not the cutest in the world anymore?” your boyfriend asked, trying to make fun of you. Since he arrived, it seemed like JJ was a bit scared of being too near the baby, so he tried to keep his distance. He never really interacted with a child this young before, so he was literally shitting himself and prefferred to not do anything instead.

You shot a jockingly glare at him, “At least she doesn't annoy me as much as you.”

He stuck his tongue out to you and took a few steps closer.

“Can’t wait to have one of my own '' you quickly booped her nose to hear that gorgeous laugh again.

“You know we could go and make one of those right now?” JJ suggests, raising both eyebrows.

You opened your mouth in a shocked expression, covering Bella’s little ears, “Don’t say these vulgarities in front of the baby!”

It was now your sweet blond boy turn to laught.

“I just can see myself as a girl mom,” you caressed the baby’s cheek softly, “I’d bring her shopping with me and we would buy those cute baby clothes.”

JJ couldn’t help it, but his heart exploded at the thought. Just imagining you with his baby made him happy. But he just couldn’t see himself in the picture. If some families ended up like his did, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to try having one.

“I don’t know if I would be any good,” he confessed, lowering his tone.

You quickly understood what he meant and travelled your gaze to him, gently stroking away one trand of hair from his face and caressing his cheek.

“Can you hold her for a moment?” you passed him the newborn carefully. “I need to pee.”

JJ was stuck watching the baby for a moment, while you disappeared from the room. But he was quick to start coping the way you kept the baby in your arms, that didn’t seem that difficult. But damn, that baby was pretty cute.

Bella started moving her head to the bathroom door and stuck out his chubby hand in the direction you had gone.

“Yeah, she pretty right?” he gently told her.

“Relax, she’s coming back, but if you still my girlfriend ‘m gonna break all your toys” he used his fingers to poke her on her belly, making her giggle.

“‘m not kidding you baby,” he picked her up so their faces were on the same level, “don’t you dare laugh at me!”

In response JJ received a big baby laugh that completely melted his heart. He couldn’t stop messing with her until you were back, mesmerized by the pureness of the child.

The sight of your boyfriend with the sweetest smile on his face and a cute baby in his hands (that also seemed completely in love with the blond boy too) made your stomach flip. In that moment you knew what you wanted your future to sound and seem like and you couldn’t wait for it to have JJ in it.

When your boyfriend brought his blue eyes on you they illuminated even more. The sexiest thing you’d ever witnessed. If there wasn’t a kid you would have jumped on his bones right then and there

“There she is!” the boy exclaimed.

You smiled even more while JJ passed the little human in your arms. You took the occasion to get on your tiptoes and gently peck him on the lips.

“You’re definitely a girl dad too baby” you whispered on his lips.

“You think?” his hot breath made you shiver.

“Yeah, you’d be the best,” he interrupted you with another kiss and then looked at you with his usual grin on his lips. His hands were suddenly on your back, drawing circles on your skin.

“You’ll just have to make all my babies then.”

A/N: I don't know if I love it or I hate it, but now I come back here on tumblr when I want to share these little ideas that mix in my head. I hope you like it, request me anything❤️

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling my mom by her old name because she can't respect the fact that I also changed mine?

To preface, I have never liked the name I was born with. It is, to be quite frank, a pretty shit name that always got me bullied growing up and nobody could ever spell right. Growing up I've always tried to get people to call me a shorthand version of my name, or even as a little kid I went by Matilda (from the movie) instead of my actual name.

My mom never put much stock in me actually ever changing my name. In her mind, she named me, and that's final. That's my name, regardless of what I want or what any legal paperwork says.

Thing is, she also hated her name growing up. She always went by a shorter, somewhat alternate version of it, and recently she even changed her last name so she's no longer 'connected' to her family name. So now she has a completely different name, first and last, to what she was born with, and there was never any 'consultation' on it with the rest of us like she demanded of me.

I started going by a completely different name roughly six years ago. I got into college and it was just a completely different world. If I said I wanted someone to call me by X name, they did it immediately and without so much as blinking. Everyone accepted that the name on my legal paperwork wasn't my name, and that was that.

Except for my mom, who told me I was being ridiculous and essentially took every chance she could to mock me or tell me I wasn't 'actually' changing my name. She also steadfast refused and still refuses to use the name, and when she does its always with snide emphasis, like its such a hardship for her.

Well. I submitted the deed poll a few months ago, and now, legally, after using the name for six whole years, I am that person. She absolutely blew up at me over it, and ever since its been the same song and dance where she'll refuse to use my new name, claim its just oh-so-hard to remember to use it, and deliberately mispronounces my middle name despite being repeatedly told how to say it.

Its not even a hard middle name to pronounce. But for an example of how she mispronounces it, think of the word 'bastion.' She will resolutely and deliberately say 'batoon' instead. That's how she treats my middle name.

She'll spend a whole conversation mis-naming me, then when she sees me staring at her will snidely go 'oh, sorry, X' with a roll of her eyes and a huff. Any time I verbally correct her on my name she takes it as an attack.

But she's also always going on and on and on about respect and how she deserves respect for everything she does, and the words its basic respect are practically tattooed on my eardrums from her various explosions.

My point of view is its incredibly disrespectful to not even try making the effort of calling someone by their new name, especially when its not even a name that's hard to pronounce or anything. I chose a pretty standard name.

So if she repeatedly insists on disrespecting me that way, why should I respect her choice to change her name and be called something different? Why should I show her the respect she has literally never shown me?

I don't really have to use her actual name all that often, but I'm considering that when I do, I should make a point of using her old name instead. Exactly the way she does for me. And if she tries to call me out or correct me, I'm going to give her the exact same attitude she gives me, because actually talking to her about this goes nowhere. She just starts ranting about how hard it is for her to remember I haven't gone by my old name for six fucking years.

WIBTA for that? It'll probably just cause more problems than it fixes, but honestly, idc at this point. She can get what she gives, and that's what she's giving.

What are these acronyms?

[momentsofamber]

so the other day my partner and I were talking about genetics ( science is his static SpIn ) and how the odds of their parents eyes in tcoaal would determine the kids' odds of having which color if their mother's green was a mutation ( based on how often their mom's shade changes between scenes, we decided it was like tcoaal hazel ) and if their father's pink was a dominant gene ( like brown irl ) and just looking at the odds data, it made me realize ... I kinda want to do multiple universes?

this is just some spitballing, but stay with me for a moment.

Role-Reversal: ( pink Andrew, green Ashley )

Andrew never outgrows the name Andy; his baby sister was the first person to call him that and that was that, that's his name forever.

Ashley goes by Lye as an adult; she went by Leyley as a child and Lye later became a nickname from it.

( rando: what's Lye short for? Lye: Leyley. rando: ... what? No, really. Lye: Reaaally ... Andy, nonchalantly: It's Ash-ley. Lye: -glaaare- Who cares what it used to be short for, it's just Lye now, okay? )

( Andy: 'Andy and Ashley' sounds so much better for a duo. You have to agree with me, right? Lye, flatly amused: ... You mean you don't like the sound of 'Andrew and Lye'? Andy, eyetwitch but pointedly ignoring that: So as I was saying -- )

These two will follow the canon story(ies) with everything as mirrored as it can be.

yandere twins: ( pink Andrew, pink Ashley )

not actually twins. but kind of.

they were born on the same day two years apart and share the same shade of pink eyes.

both have clinical bpd ( Andy w/ hpd traits, Leyley w/ aspd traits ) and thus suffer from and frequently demonstrate symptoms of obsessive and/or lovesick tendencies.

they've been sexually involved with each other since Andy hit puberty. of course Andy hits it first, being two years older, but they don't have intercourse until Leyley hits puberty too. Andy says their "real first time" 'won't be as special for Leyley if her body isn't ready for such a mature experience too'. it's torture for him to watch and wait for his sister to blossom, and Leyley repeatedly insists that 'no, she's ready NOW though!!' … but it does end up being well-worth the wait for both of them.

violence is flirting for these two.

'Do you know how badly I wanna kill you right now? Just so that I'll be the very last thing you'll ever see and feel.' is romantic.

they continue to use Andy and Leyley as names into adulthood no matter how often they get told it's childish or whatever.

kuudere twins: ( green Andrew, green Ashley )

same premise as above but the not-twins share green eyes. ( however, there is a high chance I will give them different shades due to their mother's eye color being a mutation. )

Andrew goes by Drew as an adult because he says Andy is 'too childish' now.

Ashley legally changes her name to Lillian as an adult so that she can go by Lily for short because it's close to Leyley and 'she doesn't feel like an Ashley and she never did'.

both Drew and Lily respect each other's name preferences and only use Andy and Leyley to refer to themselves or each other in the past.

their mother continues to call Lily 'Ashley' out of spite to the day that she dies because 'I named you, so that's what I'm calling you'.

these two are better at communicating their attachment and feelings for each other through things like physical touch and acts of service.

they both definitely have alexithymia.

they often don't quite know how to say things with words so they try to show things instead. ( sometimes they jokingly call their ability to communicate without words a twin bond. )

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Endure I: Dolls

Series Synopsis: You and Eren Jaeger have been best friends since the age of two, but the two of you are destined for an inevitable tragedy. The world you have been born into is cruel; it is one where friends are traitors and enemies are allies, one where you find yourself doubting everything you've ever known. In this life, mistakes are fatal, and you must be careful, lest you make one too many.

Chapter Synopsis: You befriend the doctor’s son, Eren Jaeger.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader, Armin Arlert x

Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.1k

Content Warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, sexual abuse (non-explicit), major character death, angst, original characters included

A/N: I caved. Despite the length, despite the way it makes me cringe because I wrote it two and a half years ago…endure is coming to tumblr. It may take me a bit to get the whole thing up so please be patient!!

Your first memory was that of the doctor’s son saying your name. He had tugged at your hair and yanked at your clothes, crawling around you as you sat, waiting for him to stop. He did not stop, but he laughed in childish delight at the fact that you didn’t complain, not once.

“Y/N!” he chortled, poking you in the arm repeatedly. You watched him curiously, and when he began to tickle you in the side, you squealed in protest.

“Eren!”

You don’t remember what happened after that. According to your parents, Dr. Jaeger had come and rescued you from Eren’s clutches, having finished his check up on your then-pregnant mother. Apparently, the small boy had cried the entire way home. Nobody ever told you if you cried. You probably hadn’t.

The doctor and his son had continued to visit you for many months to come. You and Eren became friends of a sort, though it was mostly because you were often kicked out of the room while the adults talked.

“I’m turning three soon,” Eren informed you proudly as you sat on the floor of your bedroom, playing with dolls. He was always happy to play dolls with you.

“Three?” you said, your eyes wide with wonder. “That’s really old!”

“I know. I’m going to have a big birthday party. You can come if you want. My mom is going to make cake, and it’s going to be chocolate, and there’s going to be so many people, but don’t worry! I’ll make sure to sit with you, too,” he assured you.

“Yay! Can I bring my dolls?” you said. He thought about this for a moment before frowning.

“Well, I guess so...but don’t expect everyone to want to play with you. Big kids don’t play with dolls. It’s not mat-ure. That means grown up,” he said, pronouncing the adult word meticulously.

“That’s a really cool word, Eren! Where’d you learn it?” you said.

“My dad taught me! He has this ginormous book that’s like this big with all of these words in it,” he said, holding his arms out to show you how big the book was. You gasped.

“That’s huge! And I guess I’ll bring my dolls, but we don’t have to play if they're not grown up. What do big kids do?” you said, furrowing your brow and staring forlornly at your dolls. Eren shrugged.

“Dunno. We can play with dolls for now, since you like them,” he said.

“Okay! Ready, Sir Eren? You have to come rescue me from the evil dragon!” you said, pointing at your princess doll, which was sitting next to your dog. Merry, the small black poodle, did not even flinch, taking the role of ‘evil dragon’ with grace.

“I’m coming! Out of the way, evil beast! I have to save Princess Y/N!” Eren declared, making his doll fly over to yours. Merry paused in licking his paw to give the boy a disdainful look. Eren made sword fighting noises as he chased Merry away before picking up your doll and giving it to you.

“Princess Y/N, I have defeated the evil dragon and saved you,” he said. You clutched the doll to your chest and gazed up at him with a bright grin.

“Thanks, Sir Eren! I think we should have a party now,” you said.

“With cake?” he said.

“I don’t think we have cake,” you said sadly.

“Let’s go outside and make some!” he said excitedly, dragging you after him before you could protest, not that you would have. Eren was dynamic and impulsive, lighting up the very air around him with electricity, sweeping you up in the current. What could you do but follow?

“With what?” you said. He narrowed his eyes, searching for something and then clapping when he found it.

“Mud pies! We can’t eat them, but they’ll be good for a doll party,” he said, marching over to a puddle and sitting next to it. You did the same, looking at him in confusion.

“How do you make mud pies?” you said, crossing your legs and leaning over slightly to watch his hands as he packed mud into round shapes before handing one to you.

“It’s really easy. You just pick up the mud and roll it around in your hands until it makes a solid shape, and ta-da! It’s a mud pie!” he said. You inspected the mud pie he had given to you before gingerly placing it next to you and replicating his motions.

“Is this good?” you said, showing him one. He held it up to his face and scrutinized it before nodding.

“Nice job! It’s almost as good as mine. But mine are better,” he bragged.

“Oh,” you said, crestfallen, “Sorry.”

“Yours are good too,” he offered when he saw that you were sad, “I just have a lot of practice.”

“Really? You think they’re good?” you said, smiling. He smiled back.

“Yeah! You’re in second place for goodness!” he said. You thought about this for a moment.

“But first is the worst and second is the best. So am I the best?” you said. Eren was perplexed for a minute, mulling this over.

“Let’s just have our party,” he said.

“I forgot about that! Good idea,” you said, bringing out your dolls and arranging them so they were sitting next to each other. Eren began to set up the mud pies, making sure each doll had its own.

“It’s because I’m older than you. It means I’m smarter and know better,” he informed you seriously.

“Will I ever be older than you?” you asked. He scowled.

“No! I’ll always be older forever and ever!” he said, crossing his arms.

“But I wanna be older!” you said. “My papa said we have to take turns doing things, so that means I have to get a turn being older!”

“You can’t. I’m almost three years old, remember? So I’m automatically older than you until you’re three, but then I’ll already be three, see? That means I’ll always be older, so we can’t take turns,” he explained. That was just about the wisest thing you had ever heard in your two years of living, from your nearly-three year old friend, so you begrudgingly accepted it.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the last syllable of the word, “Can we have our celebration party now?”

“It’s all ready. Let’s have a toast!” Eren said.

“Toast? I like toast. My mamma makes it for breakfast sometimes,” you said.

“No, not that kind of toast,” he said.

“There’s another kind of toast?” you said cluelessly. No wonder Eren was older than you. He knew so much about everything.

“My parents do it with their friends during their fancy big people parties! They like raise their glasses and make a speech to ded-i-cate the party to someone,” he said. That sounded really official, and you knew you had to try it.

“Eren, we don’t have glasses,” you said.

“We can pretend! Okay, I want to make a toast to Princess Y/N!” he said, lifting his imaginary glass in the air and then tilting it back to drink it.

“Why?” you said. He held up a finger to indicate that he was still swallowing before nodding.

“Because! What kind of knight would I be without a princess to rescue?” he said.

“That’s true. Yeah, I guess you’re right! I want to make toast —”

“Make a toast,” Eren corrected you. You pouted.

“Sorry. I want to make a toast to Sir Eren for rescuing me from the evil dragon!” you said, miming the act of drinking the way your friend had.

“Cheers!” he said, and you knocked your invisible glasses together before taking another sip each. Then you burst into laughter, your dolls sitting quietly with their rapidly-crumbling mud pies. The air smelled like flowers and the scorching sun, and the grass would surely stain your clothes, but at the present moment, neither of you cared much, wrapped up in your own world.

“Ready to go, Eren?” Dr. Jaeger said as the adults rejoined you, watching your tea party fondly. You paused to look up at them, and Eren’s face fell when he realized he had to leave in the middle of your celebration.

“Dad, we were having a party because I saved Princess Y/N from the dragon! Can’t we leave in five minutes?” he whined. Dr. Jaeger seemed amused but shook his head.

“Sorry, kiddo, but I’ve got other patients to look at. Why don’t you invite Y/N to your birthday party this weekend? Then you can see each other and finish your party with actual cake instead of mud pies,” he said, patting Eren on the head.

“I already invited her and she said yes!” Eren said.

“Did her parents say yes?” Dr. Jaeger said. You and Eren exchanged looks of horror. The thought of your parents refusing had not even crossed either of your minds, and you immediately turned to your father and mother, who were watching you with soft smiles on their faces.

“Please please please can I go?” you begged them. They looked at each other before nodding.

“Sure, as long as you help with the chores this week,” your father said.

“Yay! Did you hear, Eren, I’m coming to your birthday party?” you said in excitement. He smiled at you, a genuine, wide, bright smile.

“I can’t wait! Bye-bye Y/N! I’ll see you soon!” he said as his father picked him up and carried him off to their carriage. You waved frantically as they faded from view, and from his spot hanging upside down off of his father’s shoulder, Eren did the same, his lopsided grin visible until the moment he disappeared from your sight.

“Seems like you and the Jaeger boy have become friends,” your mother said as you gathered your dolls and flounced inside the house.

“Eren?” you checked.

“That’s right. Do you like him?” your father said, ruffling your hair affectionately. Merry, who had returned from wherever Eren had chased him off to, wagged his tail at you, probably hoping that you had some scraps of food to share. You showed him your empty hands, and he sniffed them before sighing and leaving again.

“Yeah, Eren’s really nice! He’s so smart, he knows these really super big huge words like mature and toast, but not breakfast toast, fancy party toast. I can’t wait until I’m three so I can be like him!” you said.

“Well, you only have to wait a few more months, and then you’ll both be three! And you’ll have a little baby brother, too,” your mother said, rubbing her belly idly. You peered at her stomach.

“Is my baby brother in there?” you said. She nodded.

“He is,” she said gently. You furrowed your brow.

“Hi, baby brother! How are you doing? BABY BROTHER!” you shouted when he didn’t answer. You had the feeling you weren’t going to like this ‘baby brother’ of yours. He was rather rude.

“He’s too little, Y/N. He can’t hear you yet,” your father said, stopping you from banging on your mother’s stomach to get your baby brother’s attention. You froze and gazed up at him.

“Should I be louder?” you said. Your father laughed and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think that’ll help. You have to be gentle and talk quietly to him. You’re his older sister, so you have to take care of him. Does that make sense?” he said. Older. You were older than your baby brother, just like Eren was older than you. That meant you were smarter and knew better than him, forever and ever. Okay, maybe this whole baby brother concept wouldn’t be too bad.

“Do you think he’ll play dolls with me and Eren?” you said. Having a third person meant you could have even more complicated stories. If your baby brother played, you and Eren might even finally be able to act out your ‘three little pigs’ storyline. You had done your best, but it was really hard for Eren to be both the big bad wolf and all three pigs.

“Not for a little bit, but maybe eventually. You’ll have to ask him,” your mother said, sitting down laboriously. Your father placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she let out a deep sigh.

“Does he have a name yet?” you said.

“We aren’t really sure yet. What are your thoughts?” your father said. You sat on the floor to think about this. Merry crawled into your lap and began licking your face. You pushed him away in disgust before giving in.

“Umm...dunno!” you said, realizing you really didn’t care what your baby brother was named. Merry continued to lick you.

“Oh, don’t let him do that. Merry, off,” your mother said, whistling sharply. Merry got off of you and obediently joined your mother on the couch, thankfully leaving you alone.

“Let’s get you in the bath. You’re covered in mud and dog spit,” your father said, a smile on his face showing that he was not at all angry. You did not whine much, trudging up the stairs to the bathroom to get washed up.

Once you were clean and tucked into bed, Merry rejoined you, curling up at the foot of your bed as was his custom.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” your father whispered, blowing out the candle and closing the door after him. You did not respond, already fast asleep.

The entire rest of the week, you did your best to help your parents with the chores around the house, doing whatever you could to ensure that you would be able to go to Eren’s birthday party. Finally, it was the day of the celebration, but instead of being excited, you were horrified. You had no idea what to get the boy as a present.

“I’m sure he won’t even notice that you didn’t get him anything,” your mother consoled you as you bawled into Merry’s fur about your lack of a gift for your friend.

“B-but it’s his birthday! I have to get him something!” you wailed. Your father wordlessly handed you a tissue, and you noisily blew your nose before handing the paper back to him.

“Don’t worry too much. You and Eren are friends, right? He’ll like whatever you give him, don’t worry,” he said.

Your father had a point, actually. Eren seemed pretty happy-go-lucky. Maybe you shouldn’t focus so much on getting him something that you weren’t sure he’d like and instead give him something of your own that you already liked. That way he would be certain to like it.

Yes, this was a course of action that you were perfectly pleased to follow. Abruptly stopping your tantrum, you shot upstairs, digging through your closet until you could find something of yours he might like.

You didn’t think he would like any of your dresses or skirts, and you doubted they would fit him anyways. Your shoes wouldn’t go on his feet, either, so all of your clothes were out. What, then? What did you own that Eren might want to keep as a present?

Your dolls! You frowned, for you didn’t want to part with them, but it would make your friend happy. They were the perfect gift! You gathered them into a bag and, with one final, sad look at them, closed it and rejoined your parents in the living room.

“What have you got there?” your mother said.

“My dolls! They’re going to be Eren’s birthday present,” you explained.

“All of them?” your father checked. You nodded slowly.

“Yup! He’s three years old, papa, that’s really big! He needs a big present. I think he will let me keep playing with them anyways, so it’s okay,” you said with a shrug. Your parents exchanged amused looks before smiling at each other, a secret smile that meant they were hiding something from you.

“If you’re sure, dear. You had best be off now, or you’ll be late,” your mother said, straightening your navy skirt for you so you looked nice for your visit to the Jaegers’. You beamed at her.

“Thanks! See you soon, mamma!” you said, waving at her as you and your father began to walk down the cobblestone road. You and Eren lived fairly close to each other, it seemed; his house was only a ten minute walk from your own. You skipped ahead the whole way. It was a beautiful day to have a birthday, with the sun shining and a soft breeze threading its fingers through your hair.

“Ay, lassie, now where are you off to?” a Garrison officer you recognized to be Mr. Hannes said jovially when you passed by him.

“It’s Eren’s birthday party! He’s three now, can you believe it?” you said.

“Is that so? Tell the little bugger I said happy birthday, then, won’t you?” Mr. Hannes said.

“Sure, Mr. Hannes! Did y’know I’m going to be three in a few months and then I’ll have a baby brother?” you said. Mr. Hannes put his cup down and squatted so that your faces were level and you could have a proper conversation.

“Little Y/N’s going to be a big sister? This I’ve gotta see!” he said.

“That’s right! I’m going to be older and smarter than your baby brother, just like Eren is older and smarter than me,” you said seriously. Mr. Hannes let out a booming laugh.

“Ah, lassie, I’d wager you’re quite a bit smarter than that crazy boy,” he said.

“But Eren knows so many big words,” you said, unsure of how it was even possible for you to be smarter than your slightly older friend.

“Yeah? He sure has big opinions, I’ll give him that. I swear, everything about that kid is too big for these walls. If one thing’s for certain, it’s that he’s going to change things around here, mark my words. Now, will it be for the better? Well, I just don’t know,” Mr. Hannes said, shaking his head.

“Huh?” you said.

“By the Walls, Hannes, what have you been putting in your drinks? They’re making you all philosophical! Let poor little Y/N go to her party,” a Garrison captain named Mr. Orion said.

“Right! Have fun, lassie!” Mr. Hannes said, patting you on the head affectionately. Your mind was already racing with thoughts of Eren’s birthday celebration and the promised chocolate cake, so you did not pay much attention to the two men, leaving them behind without pause.

“Are you going to knock?” your father said as you stood, petrified, in front of the Jaeger house’s door. What if Eren didn’t want to see you? What if it wasn’t actually his birthday? What if it was his birthday, but he had forgotten? There were so many ways this could go wrong that you were beginning to regret coming.

Thankfully, it seemed that somebody had heard your approach, as the door was opened by a woman with long dark hair in a loose ponytail and warm, light brown eyes. She seemed surprised to see you standing in your nicest clothes, your hair tied back with a white ribbon and a bag in your tiny hands.

“Hello, darling. Is something the matter?” she said, her soft and lovely voice soothing. You blushed lightly.

“Isn’t today Eren’s birthday party?” you said shyly. Her face cleared, and she nodded.

“Oh, yes, it is, but you’re the only one that’s come. I’m afraid Eren’s in his room, a little bit upset. You can go talk to him if you want,” she said, waving at your father, who had begun to make his way back home with a promise to come get you after dinner.

“Which room is his?” you said, looking around at all of the doors, not wanting to walk in on something you shouldn’t see.

“That one, all the way at the end of the hallway. Tell me if he’s being rude, okay? Being upset isn’t a free pass to be a jerk,” Mrs. Jaeger said.

“Okay, Mrs. Jaeger, but Eren is really nice! He won’t be rude!” you said confidently, trotting down the hall to knock on the door.

“Go away,” a muffled grumble came through the thick wood. Well, never mind. You used your free hand to knock again.

“I said go away, mom! I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouted.

“Your mom said you’re not allowed to be mean to me!” you shouted back. There was a thump, and then the door opened, revealing a sullen looking Eren.

“I thought you were my mom,” he muttered.

“But I’m not your mom. I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Yeah, obviously. What are you doing here?” he said. You presented him with the bag of dolls.

“It’s your birthday! Happy birthday!” you said. He looked in the bag before scoffing.

“Dolls? Really?” he said, tossing the bag haphazardly backwards. You felt tears well up in your eyes. How could he have treated your beloved dolls so carelessly?

“They were my favorites. I thought you would like them,” you sniffed. Eren seemed alarmed at your sudden crying fit, and he darted back into his room, neatly organizing the dolls at record speed.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry, I really really like them!” he assured you. Your tears instantly dried as you gave him a wavering smile.

“Really?” you said.

“Uh-huh. They’re really cool, but now you won’t have any,” he said.

“Oh. I guess not,” you said. Eren crossed his arms and scowled as he attempted to puzzle out a solution to the now-evident problem. Finally, he smiled as he arrived upon the answer.

“I’ll let you borrow them! That way you can still use them!” he said. You gasped. Eren was, without a doubt, a genius.

“Thank you so much! But why were you angry earlier?” you said, remembering his angry mood when he had opened the door. Eren frowned, a storm cloud settling on his features again.

“Nobody came to my party,” he said.

“I came,” you said.

“Oh yeah,” he said. You both were silent for a second, digesting this latest development. You were here. He was here. It might not have been what he had had in mind, but it was enough.

Leaning over to grab a piece of your hair, Eren pulled on it to get your attention. “Let’s go ask my mom for cake. I’ll bet she’ll give us the entire thing if we ask really nicely.”

“Is it chocolate?” you said.

“Think so. It smelled like chocolate in the house earlier, anyways, so I hope it is,” Eren said as the two of you joined his mother in the kitchen, where she was fussing about some pots and pans. Noticing you, she smiled.

“Hey, you guys! I see you got Eren to leave his room, Y/N. Thank you for that. Now, I heard you were promised cake,” Mrs. Jaeger said. Eren began bouncing up and down in place, and you nodded.

“Yeah, Eren said it was chocolate,” you said.

“Is it? Is it is it is it? Mom! I gotta know!” Eren whined. You were only marginally more composed. In truth, you were as eager as he was to have cake, but you were well aware of the fact that you were a guest in the Jaeger house; what’s more, this was your first visit there. It would not do for you to act spoiled and ruin your chances of being invited back.

“Yes, Eren, it is. Here you go. Make a wish!” she said, lighting the candles on top of the cake. Eren screwed his eyes shut before blowing out all of the candles in one breath.

“What did you wish for?” you said curiously.

“For us to always be friends and never be apart!” Eren declared.

“You’re not supposed to tell me! That ruins it!” you said, scandalized at the fact that he had fallen for it so easily. The worst part was that you wanted his wish to come true, too, but it couldn’t when he had said it out loud.

“Then why’d you ask?” he said, equally outraged.

“It seemed like the right thing to do!” you said.

“I’m sure you can make your wish come true even though you said it aloud,” Mrs. Jaeger intervened before you could continue to fight.

“I guess so. Okay, Eren, pinky swear that we’ll be friends forever?” you said, reaching your arm over the cake to interlock your pinky fingers.

“Yeah, okay, pinky swear,” he said as you shook your hands up and down to seal the deal.

“You guys got covered in icing!” Mrs. Jaeger cried out in dismay. You and Eren looked down at the now-ruined cake sheepishly.

“Sorry, mom,” he said.

“I’m really sorry,” you said.

“I’m sorrier!” Eren said.

“I’m the sorriest!” you shot back.

“Well I’m — I'm — I don’t know! More sorry than you!” he said.

“I’m the most sorry in the entire world!” you said.

“I’m the most sorry in the entire universe, times infinity!” he said. This made you stop.

“Wait, Eren, what’s infinity?” you said. Mrs. Jaeger had given up on admonishing you, taking a rag and wiping down your arms and attempting to salvage the cake.

“The biggest number ever!” he said, accepting a slightly squashed piece of cake from his mother gratefully. You did the same, keeping your eyes on Eren, fascinated with this new concept of infinity.

“Like bigger than one hundred?” you said. He nodded.

“Yeah, bigger than a hundred.”

“Bigger than a thousand?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Bigger than a million?”

“Yes!”

“What? That’s impossible!” you said. Eren frowned at you.

“Ask my mom. Mom, isn’t infinity the biggest number ever, even more than a million?” he said. Mrs. Jaeger hummed noncommittally.

“Yes, dear, it is. Now eat your cake,” she said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek, “I can’t believe you’re three! My little baby’s growing up so much.”

“Soon I’ll be a grown up and I’ll live in a house far away, all by myself. Well, Y/N, you can come too because you came to my party and gave me your dolls,” he said magnanimously.

“Okay!” you agreed, trying to lick the icing off of your nose but failing miserably. Giving Mrs. Jaeger a doleful stare, you reached for the napkin she held in her hand. She laughed and cleaned your face for you.

“There you go. Was the cake good?” she said.

“It was the best. Will you make it for my birthday?” you said.

“If you want. Are you guys done?” she said, collecting your dirty dishes and putting them in the sink. You and Eren exchanged glances before nodding determinedly.

“Let’s go to my room and play!” Eren said, grabbing your hand and pulling you after him. You stumbled but followed as he slammed the door behind you, sitting criss-cross on the floor and giving you an expectant look. You sat across from him, cocking your head.

“What do you wanna do?” you said.

“Dunno. What do you wanna do?” he said. You shrugged.

“It’s your birthday, so you get to pick,” you said.

“Let’s play kickball,” he said.

“In your room?” you said, looking around in alarm. What if you knocked something over and it broke? Then you’d be in trouble. Eren clicked his tongue in irritation.

“No, silly Y/N, outside. But the ball is in my room so that nobody steals it, so we have to bring it outside,” he said, reaching up and grabbing a ball from his shelf and handing it to you. You looked it over before deeming it worthy to play with.

When you got outside, you were faced with two problems. One, there was not a field large enough to play a proper game of kickball nearby. Two, even if there was, you did not have enough people to make teams.

“Now what?” Eren groaned.

“We can just pass the ball back and forth,” you offered, kicking it towards him. He trapped it with his foot and kicked it forwards a few steps. You ran to catch up with him and accept his pass.

“Don’t you find this boring?” Eren said a few minutes later. You shook your head.

“No, not really. Why, are you bored?” you said.

“Maybe a little bit. How aren’t you? We’re just doing the same thing over and over, like animals or something,” he scoffed.

“I don’t mind. I like spending time with you! Even if it’s not particularly exciting sometimes. You’re really exciting all on your own,” you said. Eren kicked the ball at you particularly hard, and it far overshot you, hitting a different kid about your age straight in the back of the head. When he turned, you recognized him to be the son of one of your neighbors, Oskar Zimmerman.

“Hey, Oskar! Can you give us our ball back?” you said. He looked surprised to see you standing with Eren.

“Y/N?” he called. You gave him a thumbs up.

“Yeah, it’s me! Our mothers sometimes have tea together, remember? Now can you pass us our ball or not?” you said.

“This ball? Like the one that hit me in the head?” he said.

“I guess so? Sorry about that,” you said. He looked conflicted before tossing it gently towards you.

“There you go. See you around, Y/N and, uh...what’s your name again?” he said to Eren.

“This is —” you began to introduce Eren, who scoffed and yanked you away by the arm, leaving poor Oskar confused.

“Forget about it,” he muttered.

“You aren’t going to make more friends by not meeting people, you know,” you said, holding the ball under your arm and marching behind Eren.

“I don’t want to be friends with Oskar. He’s a stupid meanie,” he said.

“Eren! Those are bad words!” you reproached. You had been told to never use words like ‘stupid’ or ‘mean’ when talking about people. It wasn’t nice.

“I don’t care. It’s true,” he said. You were torn. After all, Oskar had never been anything but nice to you, yet at the same time, Eren was your friend.

“Wait. Eren, are we friends?” you said, realizing it had never been made official. All thoughts of Oskar were forgotten as you were preoccupied with this bigger problem.

“Yeah, ’course we are,” he said as you placed the ball back on the ground and began to idly dribble it back and forth. Eren smiled cheekily and stole the ball from you.

“...best friends?” you said. You had never had a best friend before, but if anybody deserved the designation, it was Eren. He did not even have to think about it.

“Best friends, times infinity!” he said, offering you the ball again. You accepted it with a firm nod.

“Good. You won’t, like, forget about me, right? When you’re older than me?” you said.

“Duh, I’m already older than you, and I haven’t forgotten about you yet, have I?”

“Oh, yeah. Wanna go play with our dolls?”

“Sure. I’ll race you back home.”

“Hey! You have to wait and say start if you’re going to race, cheater!” you shouted as he ran away, snickering.

Being around Eren was like staring at the sun. Everything about him, his presence and personality and the way he smiled, was burned into your retinas, so that when you closed your eyes, all you could see was him. He was blinding and bright, and yet for all his radiance, he never made you seem any dimmer. His warmth only illuminated you further, his golden glow bringing out the pink in your cheeks and the subtle hues in your irises.

Your birthday came and went. You were three now, the same as Eren. He had not been able to come to your party, disappointing both of you immensely. Oskar had been there, as well as a little blond boy named Armin whose grandfather worked with your father. Armin didn’t like you, or at least you didn’t think he did. He kept to himself, flinching whenever someone came near, so you and the other children left him mostly alone, besides the five minutes you spoke to him to give him some cake.

It had only been a week since you had turned three when your mother went into labor. It was late at night, and you were supposed to be asleep, but your father was running around the house frantically, and the doctor was there, his even tone doing nothing to calm anybody. So you sat in your dark room on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, wishing it would all be over soon.

The door opened a crack, a beam of brilliant light shining, revealing the doctor’s son standing there, his jade eyes shimmering with childish wisdom.

“What’s going on, Eren?” you said quietly, for if anybody knew what was happening, it was him. He crept into your room and sat beside you on your bed, staring out the window at the moon.

“Your baby brother is being born,” he said.

“Is it cool?” you said. He wrinkled his nose.

“Nah, it’s pretty gross,” he said.

“Yucky,” you said.

“Super yucky,” he affirmed, “The moon is really pretty though.”

“I like the sun more,” you said.

“But it’s so hot. The moon is better,” he said.

“I guess you’re right, but I still like the sun more. That’s okay though! We can still be best friends, right?” you said. Eren laughed.

“Yeah, we can. Oh, hey, I made you something. For your birthday. Since I missed it,” he said, fishing around in his pocket before pulling something out and handing it to you. It was a tiny origami puppy, with a face drawn clumsily on it in black marker. You accepted it gingerly and placed it on your nightstand, taking care not to damage it in any way. Then you turned back and hugged him tightly.

“It’s so cute! It looks like Merry!” you said. Eren delightedly hugged you back.

“That’s what I was basing it off of!” he said.

“It’s so good! I love it! Thank you! I’m glad we’re best friends,” you said. You were interrupted by a scream from downstairs, and you gave Eren a wide eyed look. He seemed unaffected.

“It’s okay. Giving birth is really painful. Your mom’s fine,” he assured you, allowing you to find refuge in his embrace.

“Are you sure?” you said.

“Yup. My dad’s a really good doctor. She’ll be okay, and then you’ll have a baby brother...and then I won’t have to come visit you anymore,” he said, his tone dropping when he realized that once your mother wasn’t pregnant, his father wouldn’t have an excuse to come to your house, thereby ending your friendship.

“Yes you will! You promised to let me borrow your dolls to play, so we have to still visit each other all of the time. You can meet my baby brother, too!” you said.

“That’s true,” he said with a yawn. You mirrored his actions, and he immediately stopped to glare at you.

“Stop copying me!” he whined.

“I’m not!” you said.

“You are! I yawned and then you yawned! You’re copying!” he said.

“’M just tired!” you said, yawning again.

“Then go to sleep,” he said.

“You can sleep with me! Like a sleepover!” you said, taken with your own brilliance and immediately burrowing under your covers.

“I guess dad will take a while...so sure! Okay, goodnight!” he said, diving in next to you and pulling the blankets up over your shoulders.

Your mother’s cries of pain continued through the night until your brother was finally, blessedly brought into this world, though her shouts were quickly replaced with the baby’s wailing. Your parents and Dr. Jaeger were all exhausted as they began to take care of the small child, but upstairs, you and Eren slept soundly. Eren was far too used to his father’s line of work to even care, and you were convinced that your best friend, in all of his seemingly omnipotent glory, would somehow ensure that your mother and baby brother would be okay.

They were both fine. Eren had been right. Well, of course he had been right. He was older and smarter than you. You could trust him. You did trust him.

You shouldn’t have trusted him, but that was something you would not find out for many years to come.

[animal-lover-forever]

I just watch a YouTube video about insane and abusive parents. Parents only allowing 2 showers per week; parents freaking out and threatening to call the cops if their grown adult child doesn't want to share their location with them, (tracking apps) or if they've moved out of the house and they want them to "come home"; Parents who literally destroyed phones because their child didn't give then there phone's password; and even parents who tried to sell things that their child bought with their own money, or just getting angry when their kid eats/uses something that they bought for themselves with their own money, and don't share it with the rest of the family or the parents themselves; some parents even going as far as to lock their minor child outside for a night!

My mom is awesome! She not neglectful, nor is she abusive. She allows me to do my own thing, and if I buy something with my own money, she does not expect me to give her something. (All though I do know that she knows, that what's mine is hers. I love her a lot, and when I have money to spend, I will often get her something as a kind gift/gesture.) She respects my privacy, and trust me. She does not expect anything out of me, other then doing my fair share of the chores, and helper her if she needs it. She is the kind of woman to keep a roof over her kids heads, when they need it most, even if they disrespect her. (I always hated how my oldest brother treated our mom so horribly, and she didn't stand up for herself very much. Sure she used her voice to tell him that she didn't like what she was doing, but it often didn't matter because he kept doing it anyway. Because he failed to understand that this was her house, not his; and he doesn't make the rules, she does. Because it does not matter that he is 28, he is in her house, a house that she was kind enough to offer a room in; She did not have to do that.) She is hard working, and always does her part and then some; even if she's always hurting. She is just over all a great person, and I love her for that!

My dad on the other hand, is a rude narcissus. He likes to play these "games" like, "what's wrong with the car?" Where he will repeatedly press the gas and breaks over and over again, making the car continuesly jerk; or he will swerve the car left to right over and over again; in both situations, he will repeatedly say "What’s wrong with the car!?". But will then go on to tell me that I'm "to immature", and he won't let me "get behind the wheel of a killing machine", all just because I didn't want to do the dishes right then and there; or that, "if I can't follow directions around the house, then I won't be following directions on the road." Here's the thing, following the laws of the road, is more important than getting you a coke zero out of the fridge, and in your hands as fast as possible! He also tells me that I'm "to immature" and "inexperienced" to get a job; but he won't allow me ways "to gain maturity" or "experience". But oh my gosh! When I told him I was moving back to Oklahoma, with my mom, I was suddenly "experienced" and "mature enough" to get a job. (He lives in Utah. And my parents are divorced.)

When telling him I made the decision to move back in with my mom. (Because the household was toxic. My dad, and stepmom where having at least three fights a day, my stepbrother was also joining into these fights a lot; he also kept threatening my dad, and even told his mom that she should shoot him herself. On top of that my dad didn't even pay much attention to me, unless it was for his own benefit.) He kept asking why I wanted to move back in with my mom, and every time I gave the same answer. "Because, 1. I'm tired of living in a toxic and harmful household. 2. I will have an easier time getting a job. (Since you deny me that option.) And 3. I'll be able to get my driver's license." So he in return replied with, "So your only leaving because I won't let you behind the wheel of a killing machine! Because I won't let you have your way, but your mamma will!" I of course, deny this, because my main reason for leaving was the toxic household, the other two reasons where just added bonuses.

When guilt tripping didn't work, he tried to manipulate me. I am fully aware that my parents have shared custody of me, but when I threw that fact at him, he told me that was no longer the case, and that he now had full custody over me. This of course was not true, but a lie to try and keep me with him. When I had confronted my mom about this confused, she did tell me this was not the case, and that they still have shared custody. When telling my dad this, he told me that she was lying. (He says that a lot; my mom is just some kind of lying monster, that just doesn't know how to tell the truth. But don't worry! Because he won't "sugarcoat that shit.")

Eventually he just straight up told me he wasn't going to allow me to move back in with my mom. So in return, I told him that, "I would interact with him for as long as I had to, but as soon as I turn 18 I would leave and never return. So he better 'enjoy mcompany's, because my 18th birthday would be the last time he would ever see or hear from me again." (I was 16 at the time) (And, I may be lazy, but when I set my mind to something, I'm stubborn as HELL!) And the next thing I knew, I was on the next flight to Oklahoma.

My point is, for all of those people who have one or more abusive parents/step-parents; just know you're not alone. For all of you who are over the age of 18, I wish you the best of luck getting them to respect you as a human being, or just trying to get them out of your life completely. And for those who are under the age of 18, I wish moments of happiness until you're 18th birthday, then I wish you all the happiness and peace you could ever hold.

[aprillikesthings]

So, I'm not the first person to have noticed this, but--

If you have ADHD, and one of your parents was an abusive shithead, chances are the abusive parent is the one you inherited the ADHD from. (I don't have numbers on this--it's just a thing a lot of people have noticed.)

And that...fascinates me.

Because yeah, some of it is emotional volatility and poor impulse control and just that, in a lot of parts of the USA at least, it's still socially acceptable (and/or expected) to beat your kids.

But! I also wonder how much of it is "maybe if I punish you enough, you will turn out Normal in a way I didn't."

But that can't be all of it, because in many cases, like my dad's--I mean, he said his mom did the same shit to him. So why did he think doing it to us would get a different result????*

So I also wonder how much of it is "I hate these qualities in myself SO MUCH that seeing them in you is making me hate you, too." So it's almost self-harm by proxy.

And man is that just really, really fucked up.

More personal details behind the readmore--

*that's actually one of the things that is so crazy-making when I look back at my childhood. All that abuse was supposedly because I was doing badly in school. But they knew what improved my grades--literally just riding my ass every single day to show my homework to them and/or getting progress notes every single week. It was hell in some ways but it was a relief because the accountability meant that at least I got my homework done. And they wouldn't fucking do it for longer than a few weeks or months--they would go back to the same thing of waiting until report cards were in, freaking out, screaming at me, beating me and/or grounding me for months at a time. Again. And again. And again. And again. So it was definitely not "for my own good" or whatever bullshit reason they rationalized to themselves.

And the only thing I can think of, is that they couldn't deal with watching how hard it actually was for me to stay on task. That it was physically impossible for me to focus. That it took me hours to finish a math worksheet and that I'd cry with frustration at my own inability to just fucking finish the thing. I can remember one of those times, sobbing at the dinner table while my dad yelled at me because YOU JUST NEED TO PAY ATTENTION AND DO IT. (Because that worked on him as a child, I'm sure. /s)

I'd occasionally be told to do it in my room since I couldn't pay attention with other people around me, but of course, I didn't focus any better there. If anything it was worse because nobody was there to see I'd drifted off and tell me to get back on task.

Oh, the irony though: in 1995 (just after I turned 16) we got proper internet. (Before that, it was just my dad on BBS's, which I had no interest in.) Websites took EONS to load. For a solid six months of 1996 my fave thing online was an html-based chatroom. If it was hopping on a Saturday night, it would take five to ten minutes for the page to reload. And so I would do the more boring/busywork kind of homework in my lap while waiting for things to load. Or, once I was on IRC, between interesting bits of conversations. I got more homework done after we got the internet than I had, like, ever.

But also: that was during a spell of several months when my parents were actually getting progress notes weekly.

And then I wonder why I failed out of community college repeatedly even after I got diagnosed and treated. School = trauma for me. Any multi-step project hanging over my head becomes "homework" in my self-conscious, and then I can't do it. I'm still surprised I managed decent grades for the two part-time terms I tried at the local state university in like 2007. (I quit bc doing it on top of working full-time was burning me out.)

When friends of mine with kids find out their kids are struggling in school, and their first instinct is to help them and not punish them, I grieve over what I should've had. I don't know that I'll ever be less angry about it.

[something-tofightfor]

🎉🎁🥳 HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU RACHAEL!!! 🎂🎉🍻

Now let's get to the good stuff!

F, M, K : Max Phillips, Jay Castillo, Maxwell Lord

Would You Rather...Be a part of the Triple Frontier mission OR be an worker in the Bloodsucking Bastards office??

Any HCs for Javi P?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

THANKS!!

.............. WOW THESE ARE FUN.

ok. Starting simple:

I'm going to kiss Maxwell Lord. I'm not going to like it, but I'll do it. The lack of mustache weirds me out and his blonde hair is Not It, but the lips are going to be great, so I can take one for the team especially since I've seen his hand placement while he kisses even when he's just doing it for show so I'm sure it wouldn't be ALL bad.

I'm going to fuck Max P. As a vampire, I wouldn't have to worry about catching anything from him, he wouldn't ever get tired, and I wouldn't have to worry about him getting too attached - I know he hasn't been a vampire for too long, but he seems like he'd get bored easily. I also think he could make me laugh, so that would be nice.

I'm marrying Jay in a goddamn nanosecond. He deserves better than Kat. He deserves to have someone give him a real answer when he asks "why did you marry me". And I am more than willing to offer my body as a practice canvas for him and his tattoos. I would be so devoted to that man it isn't even FUNNY, goofy dance moves and all. I feel like he's someone that's going to talk for HOURS if given the chance... and I want to give him that chance.

I would rather die than go back to work in an office, even with Max as a boss.... so I'd pick the TF mission.

And let me tell you - if I had been on that mission, Tom would not have fucked everything up, because I would have slapped him SILLY when he missed the hard out.

I also would have attempted to tell those absolute DUMBASSES that overloading the helicopter with money was pointless because if we didn't get home to spend it, it would be worth JACK SHIT and it wouldn't matter how much we'd taken from those walls.

I also would have repeatedly called Pope a dumbass for lying to his friends and manipulating them, and I would have reminded Frankie that he can have a backbone and doesn't have to agree to everything everyone else says.

Jovanna - if she'd been around for longer - would have probably been able to talk some sense into them too, but there was entirely too much testosterone in that group, and when Will Miller is the fucking voice of reason and Benny's his backup, you know there is a problem.

I wouldn't have cared if Tom died - leave him at that damn mansion in the rain for all I care ... but we all definitely would have come home with money if I had been in that damn group.

and.... headcanons for Javi P? Hmm.

We very rarely see him near food, but I HC that he loves bagels with cream cheese - a LOT of cream cheese.

Javi sings along to the radio when he's in the car - but only when he's alone.

Javi dressed up at Batman for Halloween for four years straight as a kid, and it was his favorite costume. His mom tried to get him to switch things up ("Don't you want to be Superman? Spiderman?") ... but he repeatedly told her no until he was ready to pick a different costume.

[rainninpain]

My boyfriend of four years cheated on me and thr only reason I ever found out was because he paid this female for sex it was a regular thing between them for several years before he met me. Ive been struggling for awhile with my mental health and was actually in the hospital when he fucked this bitch. He didn't pay her all of what he owed so she messaged me to tell me what they did and to tell me her youngest kid was his.

Before the revelation of cheating came about I handed him my phone one night so he could look something up, I was grooming my dog. He not only looked up what we needed he went to my texts messages and looked for messages between another ex bf and a former fiance. There were inappropriate messages from them talking about sex but there was never any acting on it as opposed to be actually physically got with this chick.

Anyhow for months and months he tried to find more and more ways to make me that bad guy when he crossed the physical line. I never denied those texts were inappropriate in a relationship, but he found ways to continuously find ways to read my emails and messages. First i locked the phone, than my tablet, than my car from when my phone was on blue tooth and than finally my smart watch.

I had been sexually assaulted and he didnt seem to care he pressured me more and more about how we werent habing sex and he needed intimacy and blah blah. He brought this shit up over and over for two years. I asked him repeatedly to table the conversation about our sex life and intimacy but he wouldnt.

Two weeks ago I called him out on the fact that he rarely listened to me when talking to him about anything. He didn't say anything. I asked him how often he was talking to the chick he fucked he said rarely. I already knew that was a lie but wanted him to be honest and he wasn't. Than i saw she was coming to town to visit whatever family she has here and i asked him and he lied again. He than got pissed off at me for telling him she couldnt come in our home nor was i going to allow him to take our vehicle to go see her and/or give her a ride. He laughed and called me dumb.

I asked what normal woman would be ok with their partner talking too and hanging out with the woman they cheated with?! He said probably none.

A week goes buy and I am no longer able to fight with him.about this but asked why he can't just be honest. The next night he sends me a text message, couldnt even tell me in person that he isnt in love with me and hasnt been and all this other fucked up shit. We just bought a $500,000 home and hes planning to move out and take the only car we have and leave me fucked. Tonight he tells me his pos alcoholic former bestfriend got his army disability money and he will be leaving even sooner cus the friend owes him $10,000. I asked if he told Josh we aren't together and he says yeah and wtf does it matter since Josh and I dont even speak anymore. I had to deal with Josh's shit for almost 2 years because of my bf. Josh is an alcoholic and caused so many issues.

This is not the first time Justin hurt me i nearly died in 2017 because of him and a friend bullying me. I NEVER should have trusted him again but I have bpd and didn't want to be alone and he promised he would never hurt me again and yet thats all he has done. My dad died 4 May 2021 and my mom 19 April 2022. So i have had nothing but fucked up shit for awhile now. Which is why my mind goes to the darkest and impulsive places. I hate life more and more everyday. My mom was my bestfriend and we were there for eachother and never abandoned. Now not only she is gone but my dad to and I am alone in this world because I trusted someone I shouldn't have. A pos like him. I should have known better....here i am alone in an expensive house with tons of pets a place I thought i would be happy because we bought it and got this specifically for my mom becauae it is handicap accessible but she died two months after moving in.

I truly no longer care about anyone and anything. The more I allow myself to feel things the more pain I end up in. I just want it all to stop. SI is on my mind constantly. The method I'd use so it would guarantee no coming back. The other times I called my doctor and she called 911.

I'm a fucking idiot and an absolute failure at everything. I can't even work because my mental health. I quit working after my first suicide attempt on 7 February 2016. That attempt was the worst of all and I wasn't expected to make it. Why I did I have no clue. I guess I was a puece of shit person in another life and this is KARMA or maybe its just karma for all the shit ive done my entire life.

I always want to help people and everything I ever did that was good never happened in other peoples eyes. I am the villain. I sacrificed half my life to take care of my addict sisters kids and yet my plder sister who actually did the fucked up shit before and after the kids mom died gets all the credit for everything I did. Thats an entire other situation but it all culminates to now and what I am dealing with. I don't know or understand why everyone hates me, why they abandon me, why the hurt me, what is wrong with me?!? I don't belong on this Earth. All I have is constant unbearable pain from loss, grief, depression, anxiety, sadness, trauma, ptsd, bpd, bipolar. What is the point in continuing to live this miserable life?! No one misses me. No one even talked to me at my mothers funeral.not even the other siblings!

[stardustandglitterglue]

So, I can't say with 100% certainty that I have OCD since I don't have access to a diagnosis rn, but here's some compelling evidence in the form of intrusive thoughts/obsessions I've had throughout my life.

Trigger warning, obviously.

When I was a kid (IDK how old I was, but definitely in the single digits), I had a dream that I died and everyone knew every bad thing I ever thought/said/did and then I was dragged to Hell. I wasn't raised in a religious household, so I never really understood where that dream came from, but from then on I was convinced I was a Bad Person and I was going to Hell.

I *think* this is when I really started constantly seeking reassurance from my mom. I always thought that was the result of growing up in an emotionally unstable household, but maybe it was both, IDK.

Anytime I tried to call my mom and she didn't answer, my mind would immediately tell me, "she's dead, she got in a car wreck and she's dead." This would lead me to repeatedly calling/texting her at different numbers until she'd pick up. Sometimes I'd even email her. If I couldn't reach her in a certain amount of time I'd end up a sobbing mess. I *still* get this one, but over the decades I've learned how to (mostly) deal with it.

Still get random intrusive thoughts about my mom dying in her sleep, though. Sometimes I can ignore it, but I usually have to get up and check that she's breathing. Sometimes I do this multiple times a night, just depends on how bad the brain worms are.

I used to maybe have the stereotypical "checking" OCD, where I'd have to check that I locked the door multiple times. Sometimes I'd get halfway to my car and have to turn back around and lock the door again. I still kinda have my own version of checking, where once I remove my key, I turn the knob and lean into the door to make sure the deadbolt is secure.

I Google everything. I think it genuinely started as just sating curiosity but then I started obsessively double-checking news sources and things like that and now I get the urge to double-check things in casual conversation to make sure I'm not "spreading misinformation." Because if I spread misinformation, even if unknowingly, I'm a Bad Person. I also have memory issues, so this leads to me second-guessing simple shit that I KNOW I know.

I've had pets my whole life, and I've dealt with pets dying my whole life. Mostly I can deal with the usual pet stuff, and having to make the decision to put a pet down is... Stressful, obviously, but I can deal with it. Well, this past February, I found a kitten. Long story short, I decided to keep her. I started researching kitten care, because she was the first kitten I'd had since I was 15. It became REALLY bad for me, especially because my two senior kitties passed away a few months after I found the kitten. I started getting really bad intrusive thoughts about Celeste (kitten) dying, either through my own negligence, or deliberately by my own hand. Had a really bad scare where she pooped blood and - even though she was being treated for worms at the time and bloody stool is a common symptom of parasites - I spent all night frantically sobbing and Googling and reading Reddit threads, trying to convince myself that it was JUST worms, and not something worse. I took her to the vet the next morning and... Yeah, it was the worms. Vet told me she was perfectly fine otherwise, just stick to the treatment plan.

I still find myself worrying about even minor behavioral changes, wondering if she's getting sick, or depressed due to not having a playmate. I'm probably going to get another young cat to keep her company, but my brain likes to tell me that I'm a horrible person for wanting to get another cat when A) I'm poor and B) I'm actually not even a good pet parent to Celeste, I don't play with her enough, I'm not feeding her the most top-quality food, she probably hates me because I've yelled at her before... Meanwhile I play with her when I can, I feed her *decent* quality wet and dry food, I supplement her diet with the occasional piece of meat, and I only yelled at her because I was stressed out and overwhelmed by a bunch of life changes, and I stopped because I knew it wasn't fair to her.

Social media posts that guilt you into engaging have always stressed me the fuck out and made me feel like a horrible person. You know the ones: "if you don't reblog this you're a terrible person who supports terrible things!" I go through cycles of reposting/reblogging/sharing/etc, all while feeling like shit because my intentions for doing so weren't "pure," and then disengaging from social media entirely to try and reach an emotional/mental equilibrium.

Low-key have an issue with hoarding because, "What if you need that box later? You might need it to send a package, or to store some old things... If you're going to throw it out, at least recycle it! I don't CARE that your state doesn't have easy recycling options, that's just an excuse. You're lazy and you're part of the problem. You're KILLING THE EARTH!!!!" Then I end up with a pile of useless shit and my brain yells at me for being a disgusting slob who can't keep things organized.

Sometimes I'll get a recurring intrusive thought that I don't even think I could tell a therapist, because "it's bad enough you even thought it- if you say it out loud, it'll happen!" So then I repeat some word/phrase/song lyrics/numbers to try and drown out the thought and make it go away. It's not helped by the fact that sometimes those intrusive thoughts have basically been correct guesses about a worst-case scenario. So whenever I get THAT kind of intrusive thought, I panic because it might come true.

I hate looking in mirrors or out windows at night, because I'm afraid I'll see someone/something looking at me. I also hate leaving doors open at night for the same reason, and sometimes I have to leave my light on or I can't fall asleep. Sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of the night and panic because I see my curtains cracked juuust a sliver, and I can't move or breathe too deep or whatever is watching me will get me! Don't know if that's OCD-related, or some other flavor of anxiety/paranoia, but yeah.

Anyways, if you somehow made it this far, thanks for reading my ramblings. Hopefully I can show this to a mental health professional at some point in the future and see what they think.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting to tell an ex-friend why I broke off our friendship?

So me and this ex-friend (let’s call him John) had been friends since we were in kindergarten. John is white and very securely upper middle class. I am mixed-race white and Cherokee, and am solidly lower middle class. Our friendship was based mostly on the fact that I was autistic and nobody wanted to be friends with me, so he swooped in and “saved” me from having no friends. As kids, we were super into fantasy stuff. By we, I mean he was and I pretended to be. In our larger friend group, I was always sidelined in favor of a (white upper middle class) girl who John had a crush on. Me being a background character in activities/groups that were supposed to include me is a running theme in my life. When John gave me attention, I felt like I was special and stood out from everyone else. When he didn’t give me attention, I felt like it was my fault nobody noticed me except to ridicule me. When K think about our friendship now, the red flags pop up often and frequently.

I have a younger brother, who is about two years younger than me. He quickly became friends with John, and often joined us in hanging out. As we grew older, the things we did when we hang out didn’t age with us. John and I were in, like, fourth grade and still pretend-fighting in fantasy settings because he wanted to, and I just went with it.

So, I don’t clearly remember the inciting incident, but once when we were hanging out, when I was in late elementary school or early middle school, John assaulted me. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t sexual assault but I’ve tried to block it out of my memory, and it was over something small. I think I might have accidentally hit or tripped my brother and didn’t want to apologize, because my brother had threatened to hit me earlier, and I wanted him to apologize first. I don’t want to get too deep into the assault, but I was pinned down and forced to apologize to my brother, who stood there and egged John on. John said he would his family’s wealth to make sure nobody would believe me, and told me nobody would want to associate with my family if I was public about the assault. I eventually escaped, and I didn’t tell anyone for about a year.

From a few weeks after the assault until literally this month, John has been trying to get in touch with me. I’ve told my mom to pass on the message “You know why we can’t go back to being friends”, to which he responded (via him telling his mom telling mine because I’ve cut off contact with him) that he doesn’t know what he did and he just wants to hang out with me again. Which. Nah. Absolutely not. He keeps persisting, and I have to go to the same school as him this year for the first time since third grade (I’m in high school). My brother keeps taunting me with this information, and I’m just so tired of him acting like it was me just being a dramatic. I know he doesn’t view assault as “that big of a deal,” but damn. I’m his sibling. He also keeps hassling me about reconnecting, and has repeatedly said he won’t leave me alone until I provide an “actual” reason to not be friends with John? He claimed I was being an “unfair asshole”, a “drama queen”, “too sensitive”, and a “bitch” about it.

TL:DR My ex-friend who I had a pretty fucked-up relationship with and who assaulted me wants to reconnect with me despite my desire to go completely no contact. My brother thinks I’m the asshole for this, and that I’m making a big deal of not wanting to interact with the ex-friend at school this year. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[the-writer-nerd-ro]

Had to write another Sara and Hunter movie night fic to follow up the one I wrote about Elizabethtown

42% Critics, 75% Audience

Sara had said that Hunter could pick any movie she wanted for their next movie night, but she was afraid she was watching this particular movie incorrectly.

Hunter had gotten incredibly excited when she’d found out that Sara hadn’t seen But I’m A Cheerleader and had promised that Sara would love it.

It wasn’t fair to say Sara didn’t enjoy it, she definitely did. The bright colors, over-the-top costuming, and campy humor were all a lot of fun. But she could tell, from watching Hunter’s face, that they were getting very different things from the film.

Hunter was watching to appreciate the awkwardness and passion of first love and for the life-changing rep of seeing two women kiss on the screen.

But Sara couldn’t help focusing on the satirical takedown of gender and the all too real isolation of having parents who couldn’t love and accept you as you are.

The main character Megan’s parents said that if she chose to pursue this lifestyle she’d be choosing to cut them off. The conversion camp’s cruel director Mary repeatedly shamed her son Rock for not being manly enough. It all hit a little too close to home.

They watched it on YouTube, free with ads, and during the commercials, Hunter explained why the movie meant so much to her.

“I think I’ve always known I was queer, but I didn’t have the right words for it until I saw this movie. I was nine, almost ten, and we picked it up at Blockbuster. My parents have always been pretty open, I’m sure they knew before I did, so they let me watch it with them. It was like someone flipped a light switch.”

Sara loved hearing about Hunter’s past, but she could see why this movie didn’t make Hunter feel called out. If your mom and dad loved and accepted you, then seeing characters forced to straighten out by their parents was just something happening on screen. But if your family had kicked you out for performing the gender they forced on you incorrectly, then it was going to cut a little deeper when Graham chose to fake being straight so she didn’t lose her dad and stepmom.

Another commercial started, and Sara made herself focus on something else so that she didn’t drown in her own memories. “Who was your first crush, since you’ve always known?”

“Hmm… I think I was in first grade. Her name was Minnie, everybody adored her. She gave everyone in our class a nickname, including me. My nickname was Lemon, I assumed that meant she thought I was sour or something. I spent the whole school year trying to get her to like me. And on the last day of school, I finally asked why she hadn’t given me a nicer nickname.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me lemons were her favorite. I was smitten. Then she moved away and I moved on. And all those little lemon loves led me to you.”

Hunter leaned over and pressed a kiss into Sara’s neck.

“Then I have Minnie to thank. Because I couldn’t imagine being here with anybody else.”

As the ads ended and the movie started back up, Sara continued to see herself in Rock, who danced to girly music and stole glances and gentle touches with “ex-gay” Mike (RuPaul). The graduation ceremony at the end even almost looked like a gay wedding for the forbidden pair, except for all the gaudy plastic clothes the graduates had to wear.

In the end, Megan and Graham got their happy ending but Sara was stuck with Rock, who would forever be ridiculed by his bitch mother for not being enough of a man.

“Did you like it?” Hunter asked, studying Sara’s face.

“It felt very powerful,” Sara said after a moment. “I can see why you love it.”

“But?”

“It just makes me feel eighteen again when my parents gave me a… What’s the word, false dichotomy? No, ultimatum. Making me choose between being their kid, their son, or being myself.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s okay, I did the same when I made you watch Elizabethtown.”

“Yeah, but I probably enjoyed Elizabethtown more than you enjoyed this.”

“Maybe, but I liked seeing through your eyes and learning more about you. And,” Sara brought her lips inches away from Hunter’s, “I liked being reminded there’s always a chance at a happy ending.

[alovecraft]

Well, that was weird.

(doing a readmore cuz I don't know how long this'll be)

My dad and I...don't have a relationship. We are two people who are very attached to my mother and would rather the other one just...not be there. We...used to be close, when I was a kid. And then it became strained as I got older and realized some of the stuff that was going on.

My dad and I haven't had a conversation with one another, like calm, rational, sentence and response type conversation since I was 16. I'll be 38 in a couple months.

When I slammed my finger in the truck door when he was dropping me off for my college class, it was...strained, stilted. When my mom broke her hip (also while I was in college), it was...strained, aggressive, stilted. When I moved out, I was told I'd "never be allowed to move back, no matter how much (I) whined," despite it being my mother's name on the mortgage, not his. When we wound up with the sewing table, he spoke with Jamie, not me, asking if he wanted the sewing table.

Even when he had his stroke (caused by an aneurism), I swallowed everything and made preparations for them to come to our house and he was still a jackass throughout it all.

But today--

y'all. Today. My dad talked to me. My dad got out of the car to walk to our car to look under the hood and checked the air filter and tried to find the fuel filter and spoke to me about what to do.

Sure, it devolved into hatred for my grandmother and how she sold his tools and a bunch of other crap.

But my dad. My dad. Talked. To me. For over 20 minutes.

To the point where my mom told him twice to hurry up because she was tired. To the point where mom started laughing when I went to say bye to her to say that "this is the first time in 20 years y'all have talked this long."

And it's weird, y'know.

He talked about fixing mom's car, and my grandpop's car (the coolest fucking car ever (it was an old Mercury from like the 60s or 70s), his coworkers cars when he was still an EMT/Firefighter.

And, in a way, I wanted to be sad. But, in reality, I'm a bit...miffed.

When I was a kid, he wouldn't let me hang out with him when he was working on cars. It wasn't that I wasn't interested, I think cars are neat and I have vague recollections of wanting to learn stuff (but, I have also almost successfully blocked out most of my childhood from memory), but it was very much "you're a girl, you don't need to learn this stuff. cars are for boys" kind of mindset, which also had the whole "when you're older you'll learn how to change a tire because everyone needs to know" kind of mentality. I don't know, the early 90s were weird (and then I got the internet and have been a dumpster fire ever since)

He was the one who got pissed off when I wanted to sign up for the small engines class in high school (because "I'm a girl"), he's the one who was against me transferring to the one school in our area that also teaches trades despite the fact that that's where my parents met. Because, y'know, blue collar jobs like pipefitter, welder, carpenter are only for men because I might break a nail or something.

He was the one who insisted on being the one to teach me how to drive, yet only yelled at me after forcing me into the driver's seat of my mom's car and repeatedly telling me to "back the fuck up" to get the car situated in "the perfect spot for (your) mom." Yes, the extent of my driving lesson was backing up at 2mph while having a screaming match with my drunk dad. This is not why I have panic attacks at the mere thought of driving (that is probably the repeated head trauma...caused by my father's driving)

Today's experience was just...strange.

I feel like I've stepped into the Twilight Zone, had a small shift in reality or something.

Overall, it makes me wish that my grandpop lived a little longer than he had, so that maybe things wouldn't have turned out the way they did. Or maybe they would've, who knows.

I'm still really weirded out by the whole thing.

[reinemichele]

Rape mention TW

Also . when I first asked for a hysterectomy, my doctor did do the whole "I'd like you to really think about carefully about whether you want this, you might want to get married and have kids someday, and you should probably talk to your siblings and parents about if they'd like it if you have kids"

(I love this doctor, but he Is still a man in his 60's-70's, and everyone has flaws)

And again, I was running on 2 hours of sleep . and like I don't even need to say that I was fed up with people reacting to my desperate desire to no longer have 24/7 horrendous pain by being like :( but what about a hypothetical husband you might have one day :(

So what I said was

I have thought very thoroughly about this since I was 10; my mom had an emergency hysterectomy when I was 6, so as soon as my periods hit I knew it was an option and what I wanted. My cousin needed a hysterectomy when she was 21.

I decided at 10 that I would never have children because I didn't want to pass on these genes and have to watch a child suffer the way that I did, knowing if they had a uterus then they'd have to deal with the heavy bleeding and unbearable constant pain and migraines until at least 15 when they could get on birth control, and that that was too cruel of a thing for me to inflict on another living human, much less my own child

I really don't care about if my family wants me to have kids or not, but we'd discussed it extensively and no one expressed that they wanted me to; in fact, my brothers both thought it was completely unfair that I'd spent so long fighting for a hysterectomy and been refused the ability to control what my body did when it was so clearly a detriment to my quality of life. My dad is dead, and my mom's parents basically hated her, and she repeatedly told her kids that she didn't want us to have kids unless we really, truly were going to make those children feel wanted and loved. If we didn't want kids, she was okay with not being a grandma.

I'm a lesbian so there was no hypothetical husband to consider.

Pregnancy is such a terrifying concept to me (even outside of the genetic factor) that I have nightmares about it. A hysterectomy would provide me with immense peace of mind.

If I ever found a partner who wanted kids they would either have to be the one to carry the baby, be fine with adoption, or find someone else. True love, or whatever, would not stand in the way of my decision to not carry a pregnancy.

If I ever found myself to be pregnant, it would be the product of rape, and I would abort the pregnancy as soon as humanly possible. This was before Roe v Wade was overturned, but I did say I'd use an "unsafe" method if I had to, because it was pretty clear where this country was headed. I Didn't say I'd throw myself down a flight of stairs to terminate a pregnancy if I needed to, but that's, uh, what was on my mind.

And all of that <3 was a LOT <3 and completely deranged <3 and he had to hear all of that at like, noon on a Tuesday. And to his credit, he just rolled with it and said he'd see when he'd be available to do it, and scheduled me for the necessary labs. I wanted to cry in happiness, and asked if I could hug him. He also said that what I disclosed wouldn't leave the room, which was very considerate despite the fact that, at the time, I didn't feel like being an out lesbian would impact my civil rights.