H-How do I look?
She wears a ring from me >:v
thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.
as if I'd pass up the opportunity to draw sad Geto
"I wish you joy" Jane Austen, from a letter to her brother Frank (26 July 1809)
thr funniest part of therapy to me is when you first come in and you're exchanging niceties and they say "hello! how are you" and you say "im fine how are you :)" and then 30 seconds later they put on their therapist voice and say "so how are you doing?" and you go well lisa. believe it or not im doing Bad
shout out to I will follow you into the dark for being the song of all time. death cab for cutie just nailed it. there's never been a song as much as I will follow you into the dark. it's so song. like?? hello?? if heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied, illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs, if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, I will follow you into the dark. that's all there is to it.
i know it's hard. but i so firmly believe the strongest antidote to loneliness is reaching out first. and continuing to reach out. again and again and again. excise any scrap of shame you hold about being the person who texts first or pitches the plan or asks to get lunch. everyone is tired and busy and struggling. and afraid of feeling unwanted and unimportant. don't let the people you love feel that way. reach out first. don't be a ghost in your own life.
୨♡୧ THE MAN WHO HUNG THE MOON — sakusa kiyoomi x reader. sfw. fluff. dad!sakusa.
the sound of sleepy giggles from down the hall makes a smile tug at the corner of your lips. as you pick up the toys scattered about the living room, you picture the scene; your daughter comfy under her blanket and sakusa squeezed into the toddler bed beside her with a book of her choice in his hands. he’s probably changing his voice with each character just the way she likes, tickling her tummy every time she laughs so that the joyous sound is prolonged. little moments like these, ones that warrant you a glimpse into their daddy-daughter time never fail to make your heart swell.
the noise from the back dies down a few minutes later and the quiet click of a door closing tells you that your husband has finished putting the girl to bed. you’re almost finished cleaning up the toys left behind in the living when sakusa wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn’t give you time to savor the feel of him before he’s gone, leaning down to aid you in tidying up.
you shoot him a petulant look that he can’t see as you reach down to pick up the doll by your feet. you have every intention of tossing it in the bin with the rest of your daughter’s things but before you can, you realize that you don’t recognize it. your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you meet sakusa at the toy bin. “when did you get her this?”
“a few days ago,” he replies upon seeing it. in all honesty, he had meant to put the doll away before you returned home. now that the cat is out of the bag, he might as well be entirely transparent. “and i actually got it for me.”
“like, got it for you so the two of you could play together?” you eye him curiously with your question. you’re sure that’s what he meant but, without context, the statement produces an entertaining image in your head of the man playing with toys even in the absence of your daughter.
“not really,” sakusa admits, and he can see a sparkle of interest swimming in your gaze. the real reasoning behind the purchase is nothing to be embarrassed about but he still hesitates to spit it out. he’d hoped that you would see the result before you could ask about the process.
“sakura told me she likes the way you put her hair in two braids so i bought the doll to practice.” he turns the doll in your hands so that you can see what he’s taken away from the youtube tutorials in the past few days. it’s a lot better than his first attempt but sakusa thinks he could use a few more sessions to hone the skill before surprising sakura with the style.
you survey his work on the synthetic hair. it’s not bad by any means. the braids are a little loose, but you can clearly see all of the effort he’s put in. you glance up to meet his onyx gaze and offer him a smile. “you’re cute. but why didn’t you just ask me? i would have been more than happy to teach you.”
the thought had passed sakusa’s mind when the girl had first told him that she preferred the way you did her hair but he had convinced himself that the task was something he could easily do on his own. it’s not that he feels like he’s above asking for help, though, he does feel like you’re busy enough with work of your own. the last thing he wanted to do was worry you with this—something he should be entirely capable of.
“you already have so much on your plate, i thought i could take care of this on my own.” sakusa takes the doll from your hands and places it with the rest of the toys in the wooden chest before closing it.
it’s hard to believe that this is the same man that expressed doubts about whether or not he’d be a good dad before your daughter arrived. every day since then, he’s proven that his anxieties about being a parent were misplaced. sakura looks at him with stars in her eyes, like he’s the very person that hung the moon—a lot like you’re looking at him now.
you interlace your fingers with his slim ones, giving his hands a comforting squeeze as you boost yourself up on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his in a soft kiss. his breath is minty, likely from brushing his teeth with sakura not too long ago. you pull away with a smile, bumping the tip of your nose against his before returning to your normal height. “she’s going to love when you do her hair.”
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