How to love a broken girl

How to love a broken girl. How many would benefit from an instruction book for that? Its easy to love the carefree girls, the “normal” girls, the confident girls next door, but what about the broken girls? The girls with fortresses around their heart and shields in their eyes? The girls whose souls have aged beyond their earthly years? The girls with bodies and minds that have survived wars which would break the strongest of men? Sometimes these girls should come with a warning label. The warning pendulum swings both ways. This warning is not only for how you must treat her but for all the ways she will ruin you.

1. You cannot love her gently. She does not realize she deserves to be loved. You must love her with a force that can crush mountains. You must burn her soul so hot with your love that doubt melts away. Your love must be unconditional and you must show her on her very worst days.

2. She doesnt know shes beautiful. She can get compliments all day and she wont believe it. There is a demon on her shoulder whispering that its not true. It takes a dozen compliments to erase one hurtful torment from her past. Shower her with compliments, be her cheerleader, until your words are her heartbeat instead of her doubts.

3. Chase her. I know we often have the attitude of not chasing anyone. I know it is said to be weak if we chase someone who walks away, but we need to see you are weak for us. Sometimes a broken girl needs to see how much you need her. She needs to.see that vulnerability in your eyes to feel ok. We need you to need us.

4. She needs routine. Broken girls over analyze everything. They notice everything, too. Did you stop asking her for pictures after some time passes? Did you stop using a pet name? Every broken pattern to us means the end of the only thing we have ever wanted and it terrifies us.

5. Smother us with affection. Touch us. Kiss us. Touch us some more. Broken girls have not experienced enough positive affection in their life. We will absorb every ounce as a person dying of thirst demands water. You cannot shower us with enough of a good touch.

6. Be honest and keep promises. Broken girls have not dared to dream much. Every vow made to us has been broken. Every promise has been a lie. We would rather you never let a promise escape your lips than have you utter false ones.

7. Prepare to drown. If we let you inside our chaotic soul, you will be immersed in a madness you will not understand. We sometimes walk the balance beam of insanity and sometimes we fall. The biggest warning we should have is this.. if we love you, it is forever. We will love you with a loyalty that will amaze you. We will be committed and our heart will beat your name. While we are still broken we will try to devour all of your pain. We will be perceptive to your wounds and eager to heal your soul. If we love you, please be prepared that we will forever stay.

***This was not written by me, but by Lady-Savant on fet, she gave me permission to post, and asked no links be added.

I know we’re all committed to the joke/meme that 2020 is a hell year, because we’ve been doing that joke for many years now and we’re super attached to the notion that years come in discrete packages that can be anthropomorphized or whatever. We like to be cute like that.

But the black lives matter uprisings are good news. They are not evidence that something is wrong with 2020 or with us in 2020. They are evidence of the opposite - that people in 2020 have hearts and souls that are willing and able to resist longstanding injustice and imagine a better future.

We may yet be lucky enough to look back on 2020 as the beginning of the end of a lot of bullshit.

This is the most accurate description I’ve ever found, thought it was worth spreading ❀

Hey, you. Yes, you.

I hereby give you permission to hit the metaphorical reset button.

Take a deep breath, and then let it out slowly, paying attention to how it feels to let it out.

Get a drink of water, drink it mindfully, and then reset and go from there.

Start a new habit that you keep wanting to implement, become the person that you want to be. Make a conscious decision to become that person and live up to your full potential to the best of your ability.

My therapist asked me to create something “motivating” so I made these.

lol.

I really love these, and I reblog them every single time. Some of you don’t realize how easy it’s to forget to do some of those stuff or how hard they can be some days.

i did one of these things haha

@thedinodad

Whump Prompt 066

“[Whumpee]? Stay with me alright?” The caregiver pleaded, pressing down the whumpee’s bleeding side with much pressure desperately. “P-please…” 

The caregiver was sobbing, apologising between choked cries. They couldn’t loose the whumpee, not ever again. Their hands were shaking, they winced each time the whumpee let out a broken groan or whimper from their chapped lips. 

“P-please, please… [Whumpee], please. D-don’t leave me.”

the cha cha slide in full metal armor

“sliiide to the left”

*indescribably loud screeching of metal against asphalt*

“one hop this time”

*clonk*

“two hops this time”

*clonk clonk*

“everybody clap your hands!”

*clankclankclankclankclank*

Ask and ye shall receive ft. my drunk ass Any other requests? Send ‘em my way! 

write the moment that your character collapses into someone’s arms, weary and in pain but clinging onto the other person just to stay upright.

just some torture whump prompts

Protective sentence starters??

because visualizing muses in these situations generally equates to puppies guarding each other and its wonderful

send a name and a sentence xx

you shouldn’t picture the whumpee being seriously ill.

definitely DON’T picture the caretaker going to bed, worn out, with plans to take them to the hospital in the morning.

and ABSOLUTELY DON’T picture the caretaker waking up to find the whumpee unresponsive.

Keeping the whumpee restrained with their hands shackled above their head in the whumper’s work/living space, not even doing anything to them, but keeping them around as “decoration.” The whumper keeps them like that for hours or even days on end, ignoring them except to occasionally glance or touch or admire their captive. Maybe they start thinking hard about something, tapping a pen against their lips, and stare at the whumpee as if they’ll have the answer to their problem. The defiant whumpee takes the opportunity, now that they have some of their captor’s attention, to flip them off or attempt to growl insults through the gag in their mouth. Oh, we can’t have that, the whumper smirks, and pulls on the slack or turns a crank on the rope or chain holding the whumpee up. The panicked look in the whumpee’s eyes when they feel their arms getting taut, the shackles biting into their wrists and pulling up, until the whumper stops and leaves them on their tiptoes. Between painful panting, the whumpee starts yelling, even more angry, and the whumper, entertained, smiles and turns away to keep thinking.

Also, stringing lights up on the whumpee during the holidays like a macabre Christmas tree.

it’s like 3 am and this is more of a ramble than anything. though i might turn this into an actual Thing when i’m more awake…

Overnight 1

This drabble brought to you via help and permission from the wonderful @crash-bump-bring-the-whump whose Will is a PERFECT, PRECIOUS GEM and an extremely good friend.

Sleeping in a new place used to be difficult for Ty, but somewhere along the line, it stopped being a problem. Getting his brain to quiet long enough to rest is hard, but he doesn’t need anything else to help him, after the clean room. As long as he feels secure, he doesn’t even need a cushion.

He has one, though. A cushion, and blankets, and a sofa all for him at Will’s place. It’s funny, a little bit – he can do just fine at home on his own, he’s proven that. But when Jim suggested he stay at a friend’s while he was away, it just seemed like such a better idea. Even if Will probably spent half the day cleaning for his sake.

Despite that, he can’t sleep. Unfamiliar place, new sounds, the little running commentary at the back of his head over how many people have probably been on this sofa, how many hands have touched the blankets and cushions he’s touching, and quietly, very quietly, the voice that wonders whether Jim will actually come back, or if he’s left again, dumped Ty here so that he can escape.

So when the door opens, he jerks upright.

“Sorry.” Will’s low, distinctive voice carries from the doorway. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Ty takes a quick, deep breath, so his voice doesn’t shake. “S’okay,” he says. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” The reply is quick, easy… “Just having a night.”

Fear is buried by empathy. He thinks he understands that. “Mm.”

Will hovers for a moment more before asking, “Can I sit down? Just by the couch, not gonna touch you.”

Ty smiles a little. He wonders if Jim primed Will on how to interact with him. “Is that – if it’s okay with you?”

Will sits, leaning back against the arm. No touching. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. I don’t wanna kick you off if you’re comfy.”

“Thank you,” he replies, resting his head back against the same arm of the sofa. Strange, that he’s more relaxed, now that Will’s here. “Wha’s up?”

There’s a hesitation before the answer. “Having some bad memories, bad dreams.” The sound of fingers scuffing the carpet. “Company helps, reminds me where I am.”

Oh. Other people have those too?

“What d’you dream about?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. It slipped out, sleepy as he is. He blinks hard, trying to wake himself up properly. He shouldn’t have asked that.

But then Will is answering. “Sometimes I dream about being back, back with the guy who had me for a while.” He pauses again. “Do you get dreams like that?”

“Yeah,” Ty sighs. He stares up at the dim ceiling, listening to Will’s breathing. The conversation is slow, and easy, in the dark. “It was a woman for me, though,” he admits. “And…I wake up on the bathroom floor, sometimes.”

“Oh wow, yeah, that sounds awful.”

“Mm…” he sighs. “Doesn’t feel awful. Feels…familiar. Kinda safe.” He turns his head, finding the window that lets the light in, trying to remind himself where he is. “In a bad way,” he clarifies sadly.

“I get that,” Will says. “It’s simpler, almost. Nice because you know it.”

It’s kind of funny, to Ty’s tired brain, how much more easily Will talks when it’s to show empathy. It makes him smile. He smiles wider because Will seems to actually understand. “Yeah. Yeah, it was really simple. Same room, same things every day.”

“Not much going on outside that, because it was routine, even if it wasn’t great,” Will supplies. Right again. He must…he knows, he really knows.

Ty realises suddenly the magnitude of what he’s learning about Will. Will has been through it, or through something, enough that he understands Ty now. That’s amazing and – and sad. So horribly sad to realise about a friend.

“It was lonely,” he offers, feeling like he has to match Will’s trust.

“Yeah. Mine was lonely too. Sorry, sorry, I know you have to be tired, and I’m here keeping you up.”

Just when they were talking about loneliness. Ty smiles again, rolling his head to look at the back of Will’s. “That’s what I always say to Jim,” he laughs softly, and Will laughs too. And he doesn’t move.

types of torture

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“...”

“Come here and let’s get you to bed.”

insomnia

It was one of those days where he woke up feeling wrong.

It was dark in the bedroom. Ty cracked his eyes open to see Jim sleeping beside him, in his blanket. Individual blankets were one of Ty’s things, these days. It was a bad sign that remembering that made him feel ashamed. A low, faint sickness in the pit of his stomach, and a restless feeling in his bones.

He rolled over and checked the time. 3am. He hadn’t even made it to sunrise before waking.

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