#but how the fuck do I do that under my parents insurance

[cringe-time]

My main identity is “artist” but trying to become a “professional artist” killed my love for art. I literally straight up don’t like drawing anymore. I used to love practicing anatomy and lighting and spending hours sculpting out a face but now that it’s work I can’t bring myself to spend any time on anything anymore. So what the fuck do I do now

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Crossroad Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon gore, canon violence, imposter syndrome, discussing grief and parental death

Word Count: 4935

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You sighed heavily as you pulled up a photo of Dean’s mugshot from the St. Louis Police Department. “Well, you’ve got a warrant out in St. Louis, and now, you're officially in the feds’ database.”

Dean grinned at you across the diner table. “Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something.”

“Dean, it’s not funny,” you scolded. “We’re fucked if we’re not careful.”

“Well, what do they got on you two?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

Sam muttered, “I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet.”

“No accessory? Nothing?” Dean chuckled.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled.

The older brother laughed. “You're jealous.”

“Why the fuck would he be jealous, Dean?” you hissed.

Dean seemed caught off-guard. “Whoa, sweetheart, relax—”

“No, this is serious, man,” you replied, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. “Dee, I was completely off the grid before I met you. Now, we all got arrested— thankfully, Diana’s getting our mugshots and prints wiped from Baltimore— but I’m undocumented! My mom told me she gave birth to me in a motel room. This was after my parents had already been ‘missing’ for years. My brother and I have no birth certificates, I don’t have social security, I don’t have insurance, I don’t have a real driver’s license— they can book me for that reason alone. I’m fucked. You didn’t kill anyone. They actually have legitimate reason to book me.”

Dean’s plucky attitude dropped, and he turned around, slightly angry. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t exactly plan on getting arrested. And I’m sorry it screwed you over, okay? Chill out.”

You glared at him. “ ‘Chill out’?” You chuckled coldly. “ ‘Chill out,’ he says. I wouldn’t be as angry if you weren’t making stupid jokes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, okay? Jeez.”

Sam huffed. “Okay!” He slid papers between you and Dean who were scowling at each other. “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.”

Dean looked away from you and down at the paper, but you kept your eyes trained on him. “Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” Dean questioned.

“Two days earlier,” answered Sam.

“Did he actually say Black Dog?”

“Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.”

“Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?” the older brother asked.

“Well, maybe,” Sam shrugged.

“What's the lore on it?”

The brunet slid another page over to Dean. “It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big; nasty.”

“Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg,; ook at that one, huh?” He held up a picture and smirked at his brother. 

Sam glared at him.

Dean’s smirk slipped. “What? They could.”

Sam got up from the table and began heading out of the door. You followed Sam quickly. Dean grabbed your arm and spun you back around.

“What, Dean?” you snapped.

He shrank under your glare. “Look, I— I’m sorry, okay?”

You dropped the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, me, too. I just— I worry about you. And you guys completely turned my life upside-down when you walked into it. And everything’s changing so fast; it’s kinda scary.”

Dean nodded as he started walking. “I get it. If it makes you feel any better, you’re changing my life, too.”

You looked over at him and smiled softly. He couldn’t quite meet your eyes after that admission.

***

You and the brothers interviewed the deceased’s former business partner, and the man seemed a little bitter. Apparently, Sean Boyden was a terrible architect around ten years ago. Then, suddenly, he was in Architectural Digest. A piece of information he gave you, though, aside from his bitterness, was that Boyden used to bartend at Lloyd’s before his overnight success.

Then, you went to the animal protection agency to gather information on complaints or phone calls about a Black Dog. You were the one who went in to gather intel because you weren’t willing to take the chance of Dean being recognized from the St. Louis APB. You got back in the car and explained to the brothers what you’d found out. You held up the complaints list you’d gotten from the secretary. “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, and dog-like. There's nineteen calls; all from Dr. Sylvia Pearlman.”

You headed to the woman’s home to interrogate her, only to find that the woman had disappeared two days ago.

“Hi, we’re Animal Control,” you told the woman who opened the door. “We’re looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?”

“The Doctor— well, she— I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago,” she said.

“Okay, and you are…?” Sam asked.

“I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid,” she introduced. “I’m not sure where she went. She just packed and left; she didn't say where. That stray dog: did you find it finally?” 

“Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?” Sam questioned.

She shook her head. “Well, no. I never even heard it.”

There were pictures on the wall of a brunette woman appearing in all of the photographs who you deduced was Dr. Pearlman. A picture that caught your attention was the woman at a bar with two friends. You turned back to the maid. “Hey, you know I read she was chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job.”

“Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?” the maid thought aloud.

“Huh, an overnight success. Ten years ago,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, we know a guy like that.” Dean clicked his tongue.

“Oh, look at this,” you said. You flipped the photo from the wall over to show the writing on the back. “Lloyd’s bar.”

*** The bar was your next stop. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and you and the boys parked close to the gravel intersection.

Dean noticed something on the side of the road, and called to you and Sam, “Hey,” to get your attention.

“Yeah?” Sam questioned.

He nodded in the direction of yellow flowers growing around the edges of the crossroads. “That's weird. Think someone planted these?”

“Middle of all these weeds?” Sam questioned.

“These are, uh, what do you call 'em—” Dean snapped his fingers, trying to think.

“Yarrow flowers,” you noted.

“Yeah,” the older brother nodded. “Used for certain rituals, aren't they?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam commented. “Summoning rituals.”

You tsked. “So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's. Where there just so happens to be a crossroads.”

“You think?” Sam turned to you.

“Let's find out,” Dean said and started toward the center of the road. He bent over and looked up at you. “This seem about the dead center to you?”

You looked around a few moments before looking back at him and nodding. 

Dean dug a few inches into the hard soil with his hands and hit something solid. 

“Yahtzee.” He found an old Altoid tin and opened it to reveal several occult objects and a picture of an older man you hadn’t seen thus far on this hunt. 

“Holy shit, that’s graveyard dirt and a black cat bone. That’s… crazy Hoodoo spellwork,” you breathed out. “Used to summon a demon.”

“Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good,” Dean deadpanned.

“They're seeing dogs, alright,” Sam added. “But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls.”

“You guys ever come across this stuff before? I’ve only read about it,” you said, looking between the boys.

“No, never,” Dean replied. “Whoever this demon is, it's back, and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.”

“So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” questioned Sam.

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music,” you nodded.

Sam shrugged.

Dean looked at his brother, stunned. “You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's- there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, 'Crossroad Blues'? 'Me and the Devil Blues'?”

“ 'Hellhound on My Trail'?” you added.

Sam frowned, and Dean rolled his eyes. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs.”

“And now it's happening all over again,” Sam said. “We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play ‘Let's Make A Deal’.”

“So, what, we should just leave them to die?” scoffed the younger brother.

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” the older one deadpanned.

“Dean,” you scolded gently.

“Fine,” he murmured. “Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing; let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.”

***

The man’s name turned out to be George Darrow. He was the first person to summon the demon to Lloyd’s. Unfortunately for him, all he asked for was artistic talent; he had forgotten to ask for the recognition for it. His small studio apartment was littered with paintings; some half-finished and some completed. They were incredible. 

“Was it worth it?” you asked him.

“Hell no. I'm still broke and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst.”

Your heart broke a little for him. 

“Go on,” encouraged Sam.

“Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that,” he muttered. “After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but I mean, who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?”

“How many others are there?” questioned Sam.

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady— I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous,” George scoffed. “One more. Uh, nice guy, too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No, there's gotta be a way.”

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” George suddenly yelled. “I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time." He sighed. "Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.”

You and the brothers hesitated.

“Get out! I got work to do.”

“Mr. Darrow, could I—?” you started.

“What?! What do you want,” he spat.

“I just wanted to know if I could buy one of your paintings,” you said. “That little one over there.” You pointed to a small canvas, no bigger than a piece of printer paper. It was of a skull on a nun’s body with what looked like ectoplasm dripping from her eyes. The linework and blending of the oil paint was incredible. You were truly in love with it and had been eyeing it since you walked into the room.

“I don’t want your pity money, kid. But thanks,” he told you.

“I’m serious, I really do want it. I don’t wanna buy it off you out of pity,” you protested.

He considered, before nodding. “Just take it, kid.”

“Mr. Darrow—”

He couldn’t look at you as he spoke. “Take it. It’s payment enough that someone wants one of my paintings.”

Your heart broke for him even more, and you hugged the painting to your chest when he handed it to you. 

Sam paused before speaking again. “You don't really want to die.”

George turned back to you one last time. “I don't? I'm... I'm tired.”

You bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from crying as you left the man painting in his room.

You stored the painting in your bag when you returned to the Impala, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk as you drove to the Hudsons’ house to find the last crossroads victim.

***

You and the Winchesters rolled to a stop in front of a very nice house. You knocked on the door to reveal Evan Hudson moments later. “Yes?” he said, seeming shaken.

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago.” Dean cut straight to the chase.

Evan startled and slammed the door in your faces. You heard the latch click in place.

“Come on, we're not demons!” Dean called.

“Any other bright ideas?” Sam deadpanned. 

Dean stepped back, set himself, then kicked the door in in one go. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight, and you mentally scolded yourself. ‘You sick fuck, we’re on a case.’

You followed the brothers into the home and began searching through the rooms for Evan. You found a door closed at the end of the hallway, and Dean went to kick it in again. You stopped him by catching his leg. You turned the handle and pushed the door open gently. The room was completely silent as you entered. “Evan?” you called.

Evan jumped out from behind a bookcase, holding his hands up. “Please! Don't hurt me.”

Sam attempted to pacify him. “We're not going to hurt you, alright? We're here to help you.”

“We know all about the genius deal you made,” Dean gruffly said. 

Evan looked frantically between the three of you. “What? How?”

“Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it,” Sam replied.

The man flicked his eyes between you and the brothers nervously. “How do I know you're not lying?”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy.”

Evan swallowed harshly and started pacing. “Can you stop it?”

“Don't know,” you said earnestly. “We'll try.”

“I don’t wanna die,” he muttered, beginning to well up with tears.

Dean’s tone was almost mocking. “Of course, you don't, not now.”

You gently grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Dean, stop.”

He continued, ignoring you. “What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

“My wife.”

The older brother laughed coldly. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.”

“Dean!” you and Sam chided, more firmly this time.

“No. He's right, I made the deal,” Evan sniffed. “Nobody twisted my arm, that… woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but— I don't know how to— I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam questioned.

“Julie was dying,” he lamented.

Dean suddenly softened. “You did it to save her?”

Evan nodded. “She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.”

“Did you ever think about her in all this?” Dean questioned.

“I did this for her,” Evan protested.

Dean advanced on him, ripping his arm out of your hand. “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?”

You put a hand on Dean’s chest and pushed him backward. “Knock it off,” you told him, giving him a sharp look.

Sam turned to Evan. “You just sit tight, alright? We're going to figure this out.”

You followed Dean out into the hallway. “What is your deal, man? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea.” He pulled out the goofer dust you’d gotten from George Darrow. “You and Sam throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

“Wait, summon?! Are you nuts?!” you protested. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You can’t. I won’t let you, okay? I can’t handle this properly if I’m worried about you.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes.

He put his hands on either side of your shoulders. “(Y/N), I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

Sam walked up behind you. “Yeah, but how much time?”

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine,” Dean chuckled.

“Dean, you can forget it, alright?” Sam argued. “I'm not letting you summon that demon.”

“Why not?” Dean grumbled.

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why,” Sam noted.

Dean turned around. “We don't have time for this.” 

Sam was able to stop him with a single word. “Dad. You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it, too.”

Dean didn’t turn back to face you and his brother, but quietly said, “It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?”

Evan called back from inside the room behind you. “It’s outside!”

“Just keep him alive, okay?” Dean instructed. 

“Dean!” you called.

“Go!”

You steeled yourself and turned back to the office Evan was in. You took a bag of Goofer dust from Sam and began covering the window sills and doors. Sam made a circle around Evan while you worked.

“What is that stuff?” Evan asked.

“Goofer dust,” Sam replied.

“You serious?” he scoffed.

“Yeah. 'Fraid so. Look. Believe me, don't believe me, whatever you want. Just whatever you do, stay inside the circle, alright?”

You looked back to see Evan nodding. He began to hug himself, standing in the middle of the circle just as you and Sam finished coating the room.

Sam shook his bag out. “That’s the last of it.”

You paced around the room, Bowie knife in hand, as Sam tried to comfort Evan. All you could think about was Dean with the crossroads demon, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t make any stupid deals.

You knew how much his dad’s death was tearing him apart. You knew that even in that moment with him after he’d just woken up next to you in the apartment back in Philadelphia, his heart wasn’t fully there. You wished you could take away that pain for him. 

“(Y/N), are you trying to increase your step-count or something?” Sam asked you.

You barely registered his snarky question. “What?”

“You’re pacing. Like, a lot.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said.

“God, you and Dean were made for each other.” Sam shook his head, chuckling slightly.

You deadpanned at him. “Shut up.”

Evan whirled around at something you couldn’t hear or see.

“What?” Sam asked him.

“You hear that?” Evan asked. 

“Hear what?” you questioned. “Where is it?”

“Right outside the door,” Evan said quietly.

Suddenly, the doors began to rattle violently. Sam stepped inside the circle of goofer dust, but you stayed outside of it, gripping your bowie knife tightly.

“Just don't move, alright?” Sam told Evan. “Stay where you are.”

The rattling droned on for several minutes before it stopped suddenly.

“Do you still hear it?” Sam asked.

“No. Is it over?” Evan breathed out.

You whipped around to the sound of rumbling from a grate nailed to the wall. You stared it down until it burst off the wall, kicking dust from the vent into the room.

“It's here!” Evan exclaimed.

Deep claw marks gouged into the floor up to the circle, and they stopped just before the edge. The hellhounds had apparently completely ignored you, but you tempted fate by pissing them off. You dug your bowie knife into where you thought the back of one of the creatures was.

“(Y/N), what the fuck are you doing?!” Sam yelled. 

You cried out in pain as an invisible force slashed at your leg. Deep claw marks appeared on your thigh, ripping through your jeans. 

“(Y/N), no!” Sam screamed.

You slashed at your leg with your knife and hit something solid. 

“(Y/N), get inside the circle, you maniac!” Sam chided.

“Trying!” you replied, pulling the knife out of the solid thing you’d hit. Nothing seemed to work on the hellhounds, though, and your knife only stalled them momentarily. You crawled, scrambling over to the circle, careful not to disrupt it as the hounds got one last lash in at your leg. You sat back against Sam’s legs, holding your leg and breathing through your teeth.

“Jesus, (Y/N/N), are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Sammy, do I look okay?” you groaned, trying to keep still on the floor despite the pain in your right thigh and left calf.

He paused for a moment. “Fair point.”

The windows flew open, disrupting the Goofer dust that had been laid on the window sill and slowly beginning to blow the dust away from around you, Sam, and Evan.

“Circle's broken. Come on!” Sam pulled you and Evan.

“Sam, take him! Go!” You threw your knife at him and stayed in the slowly breaking circle, and Sam obliged. You stayed on the ground, praying that the hellhounds would leave you alone. Thankfully, they did, and you tried to recollect the dust and build the particles up around yourself. Sam had long since sprinted out of the room with Evan in tow, and the scratches on the floor led out of the room and down the hall. 

You sat like that for a while, crying and in pain. You knew you needed to stop the bleeding on your thigh as it was bleeding way more profusely than your calf. You took your button-down off and wrapped it around your leg tightly. You threw your head back, chest heaving, at the pressure around the wound. You pulled your sock up around your calf to try and collect the bleeding there.

You could hear rattling from down the hall, and wished you could do something more to help. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“Sam?!” you called.

“(Y/N)! You okay?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah!”

“Is it over?” 

You considered for a moment before calling back, “I don’t know! I fucking hope so!”

You could hear Sam laughing getting louder and the sound of a door creaking. You assumed he was hesitantly checking the hallway out to see if he could make it back to you. “I think we’re good,” he called.

“Thank god,” you breathed out. You tried to stand, only to fall back on the ground almost immediately. “Fuck.”

Sam entered the office. “Shit, you’re bleeding a lot… uh—” He pulled out his phone. “Dean, Dean, is it over?... Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. It’s (Y/N) I’m worried about… No, no, she’s okay— for now, at least.”

“Hey!” you called. “I’m fine, Sam, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Try standing up, then,” he deadpanned at you.

You went to move but reconsidered at the throbbing in your leg. 

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to his phone. “She tried to take on a hellhound… Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… get here. As fast as you can. And bring her bag. I know she’s got the first aid stuff in there.”

Evan reentered the room as Sam hung up the phone. “Holy shit!” Evan cried worriedly. “Is she—? Does she need a doctor? Hold on, I’ll call 911—”

“Don’t you dare, Evan,” you protested firmly, glare pinning him to the spot. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stitch myself up, ‘s all.”

***

When Dean arrived about fifteen minutes later, he was furious. “(Y/N), what the hell were you thinking?” He stormed into the room with your duffel bag in his hand. 

“Dean, I’m fine. Gimme the damn bag—”

He slammed it roughly on the ground, sitting next to you. “Let me see.”

You hesitated but unwrapped your leg upon Dean giving you a harsh look. 

He cursed under his breath when he saw your leg. “Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Just let me stitch it up, I’ll be fine—”

“No,” he gruffly stated. “I’ve got it.”

Sam looked between you and Dean before taking Evan out of the room to calm him down. 

Dean began threading the needle. You sucked in air through your teeth. “Tell me what happened. How’d you stop it?” You were asking him to distract you.

He looked up at you, still angry, but complied anyway. “I cornered the bitch and made her let him out of his deal.” 

You paused, waiting for more. “And?”

He said, “And nothing.” And began to work on your leg.

“Dean,” you pleaded, grabbing his wrist. “Talk to me, please. Talk me through this.”

He seemed to soften when he saw how much pain you were in. He took a deep breath as he tried his best to stitch you up gently. “She, um, she said my dad’s in hell. And… And he did make a deal. And she told me—” he paused, eyes welling with tears, “She told me she knows how torn up I am about it all. She told me she could bring him back, (Y/N/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, no longer focused on the needle piercing your skin. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—” Tears welled in your eyes. 

“No. But…” he paused, tying off one stitch before moving to start the other one. 

“But?” you pressed.

“I sure as hell thought about it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Don’t you fucking do that to me, Dean. Dee, look at me.” You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. “You cannot fucking give up. I won’t let you.” 

He turned his attention back to your wounds, moving to the last claw mark on your thigh. 

“I know you’re hurting,” you sniffed. “I know his death is killing you. It kills me to see you like this. But I’m not— ah!” You cried out when one of his stitches accidentally went too deep into your thigh. He looked at you apologetically as you continued to talk. “I’m not gonna let you trade places with your dad. You’re here for a reason. Your dad loved you enough to keep you here. And what you told Evan earlier? Have you even considered how much it would kill me if you were gone?! And Sam? Both of us would be crushed. You matter, Dean. Sam needs you.”

“(Y/N)—” he tried to stop your admissions as he finished wrapping your leg.

“No, dude. You need to hear this. I need to tell you this. I need you here, Dean. You’re my best friend. How do you think I’d feel if you were gone?”

He faced you. “I can’t— I can’t keep living like this.”

“And you won’t,” you said. “I know it’s cheesy, but it gets better. You won’t always dread waking up every day. You won’t always blame yourself. That’s just today.”

He shook his head. “How do you know that?”

You sighed. “Listen, both of us blame ourselves as the reason our dads are dead. And no matter how much I tell you that’s wrong, you’ll never believe me. Same way I’ll never believe you. And it hurts. I won’t lie to you. It fucking hurts for a while. But then… it gets better. Time and… the people in your life… make it better.”

He stared at you with sad eyes, unsure of what to say.

“And I know you don’t believe me right now, but… please, please, just trust me,” you begged.

Dean continued to stare at you, not saying anything, before standing up from the floor next to you. “C’mon, we gotta get back on the road.”

You sighed, trying to stand from the floor.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot,” he chuckled awkwardly, making you giggle. He swept you up in his arms and looked down at you with a gaze you couldn’t quite read. Dean then stared out ahead as he effortlessly carried you the rest of the way to the car. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[darry-queen]

How much Darry and Soda would make modern day and if it would be enough to pay for at least the three of them: (note this may not be incredibly accurate and while yes I did do research while calculating this shit it wasn't super in depth! feel free to correct me on any and all mistakes you notice and feel free to also give your own opinions!! Much love!)

Starting with Darry's:

Before I get into number this is all assuming that Darry works exclusively the hours allotted to him while missing no work, he'd have a 5 day work week at 40 hours which is standard practice in the United States, except for his part time job which he'd be working 25/h a week (i talk about this more later just continue reading) also I'm not giving them any kind of insurance. Sorry! Lol!

Starting salary of a roofer in Oklahoma is $14/h with the average being around $15/h. Assuming this Darry will be getting around 30k a year. I'm going to be generous and say he works for a good company and has a strong union so I'll give him a end of year bonus as well ($200-$800)

His weekly pay would be around $550-$600

This would be taxed though! Using a taxing calculator (bc I'm not doing all that math babeee) He'd be payed around $500 a week.

Darry also canonically has a second job! Though it is never really talked about, not even mentioned whether it's part or full time. I'm just going to assume, generally, that it is probably a part time job that pays minimum wage. (I'm aware that there are many popular hc's as to what this job is I'm ignoring those lol) now I don't live in Oklahoma but I do have personal experience with working part time and it fucking sucks. They have you working only slightly less then a full time employee so they do not have to give you full benefits. It is an incredibly fucked up and exploitative practice.

Something to note is that Oklahoma allows part time employees to be payed half minimum wage the first 90 days of employment when under the age of 20. I do not think I will include this in the calculation because even though Darry would be 19 at the time of his parents death I think he would be 20 not long after and I do not care enough to look into this law to include it in my calculations! Just wanted to mention it because?? What the fuck Oklahoma?

Anyway, part time would have Darry working 25 hours a week for $7.25/h which would be around $180/week. After taxes he'd make $160/week getting him to $660 a week.

Finally, what everyone was waiting for.... doordash fucking driving baby. Considering he lives in a populated area I am going to be generous and say he manages to get around $20/h from doordash driving. Assuming he does this on the days he doesn't work part time (so the other 15 hours) he'd make a whopping 16k extra a year OMG!!

As for any money he'd earn from the state for guardianship of Pony and Soda: Idk! It's kind of confusing trying to figure out Oklahoma giving shit out for this because fostering and guardianship are two dif things and I'm almost certain Darry would have Guardianship over his siblings, not fostering them. So I'm just not including it: he may have received a check upon first becoming their guardian but since that is a one time thing I'm not going to include it in my final calculations (i know this is kinda contradictory for giving Darry a bonus for his roofing work but IDC IDC IDC IDC I AM NOT PUTTING THAT MUCH EFFORT INTO THIS (NOTE I FILLED OUT A MOCK W2 FORM TO GET A ROUGH ESTIMATE OF WHAT DARRY'S TAX RETURN WOULD BE BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I CARE))

All of the above considered: Darry is making $960 a week. Wow!

Now for Sodapop!

Soda I'm just going to copy paste what Darry's theoretical part time job would be because it's almost time for me to go to bed and I couldn't find any special rules for 16< year olds, so he'd be working 25 hours for $7.25 which after taxes is again $160

In total him an Darry combined are making a good healthy $1120 a week on average. Probably more if you consider Darry going insane with doordash/overtime! Overall a good $4480 a month

GREAT NOW TIME FOR EXPENSES!!

Expenses Include:

Mortgage payments

power bill

water bill

natural gas

car payments (maybe)

car insurance (maybe)

fuel

food

phone payments

internet bill

probably more I can't remember off the top of my head

OKAY NOW explaining the maybe's rq

You can just, not pay for car insurance. It's illegal, but when you're poor it's not like you can really care about the legality of certain things. Sometimes, it's eating vs car insurance, y'know? Especially because Darry is only 20, that shit is going to be expensive. And the car was def under his dad's name previously so he also def doesn't have any history. I'mma be generous though and say that he does have CREDIT history, which following my own car insurance premiums: my man is going to be paying like, $400 a month. and trust me, I'm being generous here. This is also for liability only. crazy right? With that considered, if I can not get Darry's salary to work with the rest of his expenses I'm saying he's driving without insurance. Hope you understand.

Now for the car itself, it might be payed off already might not. Again it's almost time for me to go to bed so I"m not willing to double check the book to see if car payments are ever mentioned. If they are I'll come back and fix this another time but for now. I'm not including it.

As for the gas for this theoretical truck? I'm going to put it from $250-$300 a month based off of what Reddit car owners said on how often they have to get gas for their own trucks. Great!

OKAY NOW FOR THE REAL EXPENSES! The average cost of utilities in Oklahoma, Tulsa specifically, is $270 a month for electricity, like $130 a month for natural gas, and for water $100 a month. Now you're probably saying, "Paya, isn't that a little high?" to which I'd say, they have 4 (presumably more) other boys coming around almost everyday. SO I feel it's fine to rate that shit on the higher side of things.

Before I forget: the mortgage payments!

This one is kinda fucked! I have no idea when the Curtis parents bought the house in canon. If it was after, or before Darry was born, etc. Because of this you can kinda just make hc's for this. The reason I say this is because obviously the housing market now is VERY different from the one in the 40s-60s which is when they'd have had to buy the house in cannon. In fact, I'm not even entirely sure they own the house in canon I'm just assuming right now! Like, if you're making a modern au: feel free to say that they're renting! Like who really cares about it? I'll even calculate it here for you so you have a frame of reference: Assuming the house is at least 2 bedrooms 1 bathroom it's gonna be around 1.5k a month. If you want to say they're paying a mortgage though, I'm going to assume based off the little data I could find of average home cost in 2004 (I'm assuming the house was bought around the time of Darry's birth) we're looking at somewhere between 150k-250k. I'm going to low ball it though because I think Oklahoma housing prices are generally cheaper and I'm going to assume they'd go for something affordable over something large. So I'll say 175k! Average interest on a home loan in 2004 was around 6%, with a 20% downpayment Darry will be paying 1k a month for the mortgage. Not that bad!

Phone bill is p cheap around 100$ feel like you may be able to play around with this. Like maybe they're paying for Johnny? Who knows not me I want to go to bed!

Food is like so fucking expensive now tbh. I pay $300 a month on grocery shopping a month for my household. Assuming Darry is purchasing food for himself, his brothers, and a little extra for the gang I'm going to put his grocery bill at around $500 a month. I think I'm lowkey low balling it, but I think he'd be a good bargain shopper. Btw, don't ask if he qualifies for food stamps! Because he doesn't!

internet bill is significantly cheaper going to be around $50 a month, as for services like live streaming and other things, we're gonna say it's all pirated. no one is paying for that shit when you can get it online for free! (Personal hc: Steve is a fucking amazing pirate and can get you literally anything you ask for.)

Final cost of living for my boys, not including school supplies, school/extra curriculars/or clothing: $2400 - $3350

Ending conclusion: If Darry works 80+ hours a week and Soda helps out with his part-time job they have more then enough to pay for almost all living expenses. Tell me where I fucked up! Thanks. Btw according to the shittily done w2 I did for Darry he'd get almost 2k in tax returns; i most def fucked something up but I'mma accept it despite that.

[partycatty]

im genuinely curious what ur take on a pregnancy scare with ds johnny would be cuz i personally can see him being all like "fuck yeahh i bred u haha ur mine fr now" but like he'd be an AWFUL father (imo) LMFAO

cranking this one out rq to answer your question, just gonna answer it instead of writing about it

dark star!johnny cage > pregnancy

CW: discussions of abortion & sex, ds!jc is a piece of shit

part 1* / part 2* / part 3* / part 4* / part 5*

[ masterlist ]

while i don't own the concept of the order of darkness johnny, my specific rendition of dark star!johnny would not want to have children.

i need you guys to remember that this version of him is a manipulative, abusive, narcissistic POS!

he's young, he's spry, he's a party man, and he would be fully convinced that a child would be a waste of time.

protection during sex feels like a workload to him so he'd often hit it raw, yet still become a disaster when your pregnancy test turns up positive.

he'd make you take five, ten, fifteen more before he's convinced. he'd accuse you of baby trapping. screaming matches so loud you both get migraines.

being a celebrity, johnny would pay you under the table to take care of it. that's how he would word it, too. "just get it done, and not a single fucking word to the press." his reputation is more important than a potential family life.

now let's say hypothetically you end up having a child with him. johnny would try to be a decent parent in his own stupid way, but in the way that a Man would. he'd call it babysitting, pretend like he's doing you a favor and giving you a night off. johnny would sit down and talk to the kid as if he was an adult, speaking professionally and quirking a brow when the baby would simply coo in response. how the hell do you talk to a baby? he'd pick up extra jobs, extra outings just to be away from the crying for a night after a while.

he'd tickle their chin like they were a dog, crouching down and going eye level with them. the baby would stare back with large eyes, and a part of him tears apart inside knowing he wouldn't be able to provide the kid with the emotional support they'd need. he decides that quickly, absolutely, as if there's no way to change that outcome.

they have his nose, and your eyes, but a mixture of your lips and his. he couldn't deny that the baby was cute, but he'd rather admire the cuteness than manage it. johnny would try to show off his admiration by releasing adorable photoshoots of the baby in onesies or wicker baskets, but then you'd argue that you don't want your child's face plastered all over hollywood. you don't want your baby to grow up to be like their daddy.

johnny'd be the credit card of the family. he'd fund the clothes, toys, medical bills, insurance, food, but you'd be the one in the store. he'd just flick his card at you and tell you to take care of whatever seems to be wrong.

even still, when the press would ask about his child, he'd beam and grin and even let some crocodile tears flow about how happy he is to have a little boy/girl with his wonderful partner.

and you'd be stuck at home with eye bags and the same clothes you'd been wearing for days, feeding the child and wondering when he'll be home.

[brucewaynehater101]

I know you're mostly an angst person, but in the Parentified!Tim au, I couldn't stop imagining Tim doing his utmost best to keep Bruce's faith in Santa Claus when he and his team watched Santa die.

Like.

Bruce: Hm. Santa must be busy this year.

Tim, who's failing at Santa-ing and being scolded by 10,000 unpaid elves who's also complaining about their poor dental insurance: Don't worry, chum. I'm sure he'll pass by tonight. Now, why don't we leave the cookies near the fireplace and tuck you in? I heard from the grapevine that he also prefers C4 energy drink rather than milk.

Bruce: *narrows his eyes*

Tim: *sweats in lactose intolerance* Or milk!

Bruce: *Hums in approval and leaves the milk and cookies*

Tim: Man. Alfred, this is bullshi--

Santa, who's very much alive: *happily munching on Alfred's award-winning cookies plus the ones from the kitchen* *gulps the milk down* *wipes mouth messily*

Santa: No one will fucking believe you

Santa: *fucking poofs out of existence*

Tim: Motherfucker.

Alfred: Master Tim! Where have all my cookies gone?!

Tim: *points at presents under the tree* Maybe Santa ate it!

Alfred: I am too old to fall for that trick. Please tell Master Allen and Master Kent to simply ask to be invited in next time instead of sneaking in.

Tim: But- They-

Alfred: No 'Buts' Master Tim! Although I am glad they did not leave footprints this time, I would be happier if they didn't eat all the food that is prepared for tomorrow.

Alfred: *fucking walks out, winks at Santa who is laughing by the stairs, and heads to bed*

The next day

Tim: *rants vaguely to Bruce about last night*

Bruce: *nods* I saw Alfred kissing Santa once.

Tim: I don't know how to respond to that.

I love this concept so much. Bruce believes in Santa because he most definitely gathered evidence after some kid at school told him otherwise.

Tim, who killed Santa, doesn't want to break the news to Bruce. He knows that a baby Bruce did an investigation, and it's a part of his childhood that Bruce still holds onto. So, Tim does everything he can to hold onto the fabrication that Santa is alive (even if that means managing thousands of elves, forcing all of YJ to do it with him, and finding a way to choke down thousands of cookies and cups of milk). Tim just wants some C4 (which I found hilarious cause I switched over to that brand a few months back) and a break from trying to keep the spirit of Christmas alive in a middle-aged man.

Then Santa's not actually dead. He probably kept the story being dead just to retire and not deal with the elves.

Alfred found out about Tim acting as Santa with his friends probably because he called up Santa Clause to complain about the footprints and mess left behind in his usually impeccable work.

I wonder if Mrs. Clause exists in the DC universe, or if Santa Clause spends a significant time on Christmas kissing people's parents (or maybe Alfred is just special).

[rorschachisgay]

Saints Row and in particular Saints Row 1 and Saints Row 2 had enormous impact on me and have an irreplaceable spot in my development and history. one of my biggest tattoos is a Saints Row tribute. the franchise shaped a lot of my teen and young adult years. i know for a lot of people it was the goofy comedy series but it mattered to me profoundly.

It has been a long time since any of the people who were heading those games have worked at Volition, but knowing how the company was treated over the years, having it suddenly tossed into the gutter like this is crushing. hundreds of good people losing their jobs because their parent company was scrambling to recoup costs from a shitty failed business decision.

it's unfair. all of the entertainment industry is brutal, but video games are a fucking machine made to chew people up and spit them out again like disposable tokens, only good for extracting as much monetary value as possible. you release one game that performs just ok, not great but not terrible, but because you didnt meet the impossible imaginary goalposts of people who frankly know nothing about your company or your work outside of numbers on a screen, thirty years of history is just gone. like that.

how fucking miserable. Volition had such a rough fucking deal the last ten years, bouncing from one parent company to another and still, somehow, being expected to produce games in that. and they fucking did, too. i still remember the devs of saints row the third and iv talking about how they were making saints row the third not knowing if their parent company was going to live long enough to see it be released. how saints row iv was the way it was because they were under such time and money constraints that the budget didnt exist to do what theyd dreamed of.

it's horrible. and i can't help but wonder what's going to become of idolninja's pc patch as well. just rot in embracer's archives somewhere? what a fucking waste of a mans legacy.

It's all so fucking brutally sad and unnecessary. Volition were entering a new era, they could have done so much more. i can only hope that the hundreds of people let go can find new jobs soon, since embracer group also stiffed them on medical insurance as a final fuck you.

just furious and heartbroken for the games i loved and, more importantly, the people who were horribly fucked over by the evils of corporate greed yet again. fuck embracer, fuck the video game industry.

[aibidil]

Ok millennials and parents of Gen Z, huddle time. What are we going to do about our Gen Z and (preemptively) Gen Alpha kids' politics? Especially those of us who are parents to Gen Z men? We've all seen the data showing that millennials aren't getting more conservative as we age. To give them credit where credit is due, Boomers were the ONLY age group to shift left in the 2024 US election. Millennials didn't move much from 2020, but it was slightly to the right. Gen X and Gen Z moved significantly to the right—9 points and 13 points, respectively. Gen Z men shifted 15 points to the right, while Gen Z women shifted 9 points to the right.

Obviously the left as a whole has some work to do here, but I can't help thinking that some of the work might be done by us as parents or friends of Gen Zers and, preemptively, Gen Alphas. (Maybe part of the issue is that most Gen Zers have Gen Xer parents, and we know that Gen X is the other age group that shifted significantly to the right?) These kids are coming of voting age in a really fucking difficult world political moment, and it makes sense to me that they need guidance in this venue like they do in the rest of life.

Clearly parents don't have control over our kids' politics, but we also have a huge ability to influence and help educate them. Some spit-balling thoughts of things we need to be doing:

Talk as rationally as we can about economics and how economic policies affect us. Help them understand what politicians are saying about the economy, e.g. what is a tariff? what causes inflation? If we aren't clear about these things, let's include them in our research trying to figure it out. I can't help but think that most Trump voters simply do not understand what a tariff is and what it will mean for US consumers, if it's passed

Help them learn to play out different scenarios—to think through what will happen down the line if various proposed policies were enacted. That is, help them to think logically about not just what will happen immediately after a policy is passed, but what that would be likely to happen next, and next, and next. This ability to think down the line is so important in so many parts of life, and it's not necessarily something that comes easy to most of us.

On abortion: This wasn't a huge issue this election in the US. That said, I've had really good luck talking with my boys about why abortion is important, and this is a case where the framing of the issue is so important. "Parenting is hard. Don't we want all kids to have parents who actually wanted to be parents? Do you think that someone who doesn't want kids, or knows they can't afford kids, or knows they can't handle kids should be forced to give birth? What would that mean for their baby?"

Talk about it whenever political issues affect you. It's much easier to understand politics when it touches your family, but if we don't talk about it, they won't understand it. For example, I've got a lot of chronic health issues, so health insurance has been a big political concern of mine. I can explain that insurers not very long ago used to be able to deny people coverage if they had any preexisting condition, and that it's only democrats and the pressure of the political left that accomplished getting rid of that. And now we need to make sure we keep that win, because it's the right thing, but also because here is how it would affect us

Talk about all the rights we have that are actually quite new. Lawrence v. Texas (legalizing consensual sodomy) was only in 2003! Gay marriage has only been nationwide since 2015! Explain why gay marriage is important. Not because we believe marriage is some mystical thing, but because it confers legal benefits like the ability to visit your sick partner in the hospital, to be the next of kin, to get spousal health insurance, etc. It's so easy to think these rights have been around longer than they have.

If we're worried about vulnerable people under a Trump presidency, talk about our worries in as concrete a way as possible, because if we aren't concrete, they are tempted to think we're being hyperbolic. "I'm worried that trans folks won't be able to access medical care or their medication because Trump has talked about passing laws to do that. I know that access to gender-affirming care is vital because suicide rates are high among trans folks if they can't access care. When I listen to politicians talk about trans people, it makes me angry and sad because they're stoking fears but those fears aren't based in reality. Meanwhile trans people will actually be hurt by these policies right away." Or about mass deportations: "Trump has promised to deport immigrants, which is wrong—how does he think our country will survive? The people he's talking about deporting are an important part of our society. And aren't we all immigrants, if we're not indigenous? But it's even worse than that because he isn't only talking about deporting undocumented people. The policies he's promised to enact also plan to deport even people who are here legally with visas or temporary protected status, and he wants to use a law from 1798 called the Alien Enemies Act to justify it. That's the same law they used to justify horrifically holding Asian Americans in camps during WW2! I worry for these fellow people because it's inhumane and I also know it would be terrible for the economy, which seems like it would be against the right's purported goals, doesn't it?"

Any time you start a discussion like this, listen to what they have to say in response. Don't shut them down! It's tempting to shut them down especially if they say some nonsense—especially if it seems like nonsense they're parroting from right-wing youtubers. It's so tempting. If it triggers you, buy yourself a minute to cool down by asking them to say more or explain what they mean.

Help them learn to vet news and images, especially in this age of AI. We can talk through our own thought processes when we hear a fact or story. How do you know if something—a fact, an image, a video—is true? What kind of process should you be running EVERYTHING through? We need to help them develop this skill so they don't give up on even trying and become full of despair at living in a post-truth world.

What other ideas do you have? Please add on. I feel such a sense of responsibility over my white Gen Z boys, and I know I can't be the only one who thinks we need a fucking plan. No one has ever parented in this environment before—let's help each other.

[atopvisenyashill]

There's this weird thing going on Reddit right now where people are claiming that legally, Rhaenyra children are not bastards. And I was wondering if you agree or disagree. I think that people are just making up their own canon lore at this point.

Well. Okay I think I’m about to give an answer that is a little spicy but when I get around to my ultimate point I think everyone is going to go "yeah it makes sense that's how you feel, that tracks." Let me start with a personal story to be extra annoying-

My mom, after separating from my dad, swore of marriage. Marriage derailed her life, it had derailed my grandma's life, so she decided that even if she truly fell in love again, she would stay unmarried because clearly marriage jinxes love. She met my stepdad and as he had been divorced three times (and bitterly each time too) he agreed. He proposed to her but it was really just a commitment thing - I promise I am all in on this relationship, and by wearing this ring, you promise too. He moved in. They had one of my siblings, K, and still remained unmarried despite pushback from a few relatives and friends.

And then my stepdad needed knee surgery. And my mom couldn't put a domestic partner on her insurance. So a week before my second sibling, B, was born, after my aunt finished teaching summer school for the day, on what was a random Thursday afternoon, we all put on some nice clothes, piled into the van, and went down to city hall where they got hitched and I cried while everyone made fun of me because their toddler was literally running around the waiting room, it was not a big deal! My parents were both wearing jeans!!! We went to Baker's Square after, not even a nice restaurant! Do you know how this marriage has affected K and B? Not even a little! Do you know why?

BECAUSE NONE OF THIS MATTERS.

There is no moral or biological difference between a child born in wedlock and a child born outside of it. If you put K and B's blood under a microscope and I didn't tell you the ages would you be able to tell the difference between them? Would you be able to figure out which one of my siblings is a bastard and which one is trueborn? No, you would not because the difference doesn't exist biologically, ontologicaly, ecologically, anthropologically, whatever ology you want to bring up, and I think what this fandom finds most frustrating is that there is also no legal difference because LAWS ARE MADE UP. THEY DONT FUCKING MATTER. THEY ARE MAN MADE. I need this fandom to kill the prosecutor that lives in their head and stop arguing over whether Rhaenyra’s oldest boys are ~really~ bastards or not. The “truth” of this is just as it is for my family - it’s completely emotional, situational, and dependent on the feelings of the people involved in it!

Alicent & Otto & Criston, in both the books and the show, have an ulterior motive to insist that legally Rhaenyra’s boys are bastards. They can talk about propriety and legality all they want, but not only were those boys raised and loved by Laenor & Corlys, the concepts of marriage & wedlock & legitimacy are merely tools used to keep people in their place, something those three are very aware of because Otto manipulates the law in order to cut Daemon out of the line of succession which is exactly what kicks off this conflict in the first place! Corlys & Laenor & Rhaenyra have completely different but still existent ulterior motives to insist that legally the boys are true born. They can talk about “well technically” and cite whatever law or precedent they want but again, this same insistence on their legitimacy is a cover for the fact that if they ARE admitted to be not Laenor’s, they all lose access to power.

Not only that, but both Rhaenyra and Alicent become insistent on these competing legalities because they are worried the other will kill their children. Alicent all but confirms that she would have killed them if Rhaenyra had accepted terms with her nasty comment about their deaths when Rhaenyra takes the capital, but Rhaenyra throws her own insistence that she won’t hurt her siblings out the window with b&c.

So yeah, people are making up their own canon lore here because both Otto and Rhaenyra are ALSO making up their own canon lore here. That’s the entire point. Both of these sides have their own agendas, their own very rational fear of the other, and instead of realizing they have to compromise just a bit to get out of the shitshow they’ve found themselves in, they escalate at every turn until they’re all dead and so are their dragons.

The point is - I think everyone is missing here that George is making fun of you nerds who spent all your time insisting they’re bastards or not and debating the legality ad nauseum. He has Stannis ranting about the sanctity of the line of succession and House Baratheon and everyone misses that Stannis is a fucking loser for this because the line started one generation ago and if he didn't want Robert overthrown by Cersei maybe he should have made sure Robert wasn't raping and beating her all the time!! It is the same exact thing here!! If they didn't want Rhaenyra to have bastards, they shouldn't have jerked her around as heir for years then trapped her in a marriage she resented to fix their stupid ass mistakes and if they didn't want the whole thing to escalate into a bloody war, they shouldn't have murdered Luke and Jaehaerys!! That simple!!!!

LEGITIMACY AND MARRIAGE ARE NOT REAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rebelspykatie]

Rushin’ through me like a fire Part 6

A Steddie Club AU

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

And he finally gets a chance to do what he’s wanted all night, tracing the line of scars from Eddie’s neck all the way down to his collarbone, featherlight touch in case Steve makes the wrong move here. But goosebumps trail in his wake, Eddie’s hands tensing on his thighs, that flush spanning the length of his neck. One of Steve’s hands settles on Eddie’s chest, slipped between the rips, right over Eddie’s heart, fingertips lightly grazing the raised skin. 

“They’re from a fire,” Eddie says, voice calm even as Steve identifies a dangerous, uncertain look in his eyes. “People always ask. Figured I’d get it out of the way before you could.”

Steve’s hand slips, unsure if he’s allowed to keep touching, but Eddie must sense the movement and stops Steve with a touch to his wrist, holding his hand in place. 

“You can touch them. No one’s touched them like this before." Eddie doesn’t drop his hand, just keeps thumbing along his wrist. Now they’re both covered in goosebumps. “My parents were musicians, always away at shows. They left me with my uncle Wayne a lot while they were on the road.” He runs his hand down Steve’s arm, gently cupping his elbow. “Once I was old enough, I would go to as many shows as I could, just wanting to be closer to them. But they were always in these dive bars. Places that could barely pass inspections. Nobody really pays attention to fire codes in places like that.” 

There’s a heavy pause before Eddie continues, “One of those places only had one exit, about as far from the stage as you could get. Some dipshit lost control of a cigarette backstage and lit the whole place up in flames. They had all these ratty old curtains that made it worse. I tried to run to the stage, but I got dragged out of the place. Some of the rafters came down on me, fucked up my side and my face.” Another pause. His gaze unfocused and lost in the memory. “That was the last time I saw my parents.” 

Steve knows there’s not anything he can say to make that loss easier, but it does make him think about the bar downstairs. How it’s named Hellfire. How the bar is branded with flames. How Eddie’s scared of crowds. How Eddie made it into a safe haven despite his fear.

“Is the club in honor of them?” Eddie’s eyes meet his again. He nods slowly. 

“It didn’t start that way. I had all this money I didn’t know what to do with. They weren’t the fucking Beatles or anything, but they had a few albums do well and didn’t spend much of it before they died. Got a bit from their life insurance. Got even more when their house sold. Used a bit to pay the medical bills. Gave some to my uncle. Put the rest into this place.”

“It was a grimy old warehouse when I started. An absolute shit hole. But Chrissy and the guys from my band helped fix it up, we all worked to make it the place it is now. It gave me a really good outlet after everything happened. I was so angry and I got to hammer shit all the time.” He chuckles darkly, ducking his head. “Sorry I didn’t mean for this to get heavy.” 

“Eddie,” Steve taps Eddie’s chin, raising it until they’re looking at each other. “Hellfire is like a home to me, to a lot of people. You made it into this safe place. Not just for yourself, but for others.” He plays with a strand of Eddie’s hair that’s come loose from his ponytail. “Your parents would be proud. Thank you for telling me about them.” 

Steve leans down and presses his forehead against Eddie’s, meaning for it to be gentle, but Eddie surges up and kisses him. Grasping onto Steve’s thighs, he tugs him closer, sliding one hand around to the small of his back, pressing until it feels like there’s no space left between them. Chest to chest, Steve can feel how hard Eddie’s breathing, the way they both are trying to suck the oxygen out of each other. 

It turns frantic fast, tongues battling it out in each other’s mouths and hands wandering under shirts. The lithe expanse of Eddie’s neck has been teasing him all night, flushed red and glittering with sweat. Steve breaks their kiss to lean down and lick up a bead of sweat, tongue following its trail before latching on with an open mouth and sucking on the side that’s not covered in scars. A high pitched mewl leaves Eddie’s throat, the vibration egging Steve on, desperate to hear that sound again. 

Eddie’s sunk down enough that his head is thrown back against the armrest of the couch, leaving his neck on display for Steve, a pale column of flesh that Steve wants to sink his teeth into and not let up until Eddie’s a whimpering mess in his hands. He takes his time, alternating between a harsh sucking motion and soft delicate kisses until he sees bruises start to form. Pulling sound after sound from Eddie, blissfully leaving his mark and savoring the tangy salty taste of their exertion from earlier. 

He takes a minute and runs his fingers along the scars on Eddie’s shoulder, holding the fabric of his shirt to the side and peppering kisses along the scars on the left side of his neck. A full body shudder takes over and Eddie’s hips buck up, seeking friction from Steve, his hands clenching on Steve’s thigh and back.

“Steve, baby,” Eddie whines, “please stop teasing me. This’ll be over before it even starts if you don’t stop. I haven’t even seen you naked yet.” 

He sits back on his heels, both of them panting and staring at each other with dilated pupils and puffy, kiss-slicked lips. Eddie looks completely ravished, like Steve’s already taken him apart, neck littered in marks and hair so tousled it's barely in a ponytail at all anymore. Steve probably doesn’t look much better, with his polo tugged halfway out of his pants.

Steve pulls his shirt off in one quick motion, tossing it somewhere unknown. Eddie’s breath hitches in his chest, staring up at Steve with wild eyes. He feels like an entire meal that Eddie wants to feast on. This frantic want, but slow devotion is almost too much for Steve. It’s nothing like anyone he’s slept with before and they’re still mostly fully clothed. 

It’s time to change that. 

“Should we relocate?” Steve asks, nodding towards the bed and climbing off of Eddie’s lap.

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

[purlturtle]

One of the hardest thing for me all throughout my life has been the fact that my parents still don't trust I could be doing all right for myself. That my life, different though it is from their lives, and from their vision they had for my life, is a fulfilled and happy and working one.

I am forty-four years of age. I have lived on my own for twenty-five of those years: longer than I have lived under my parents' roof.

And yet!

And yet.

And yet it would seem that they see me as a head-in-the-clouds dreamer incapable of navigating this world, constantly in cloud cuckoo land, squawking helplessly (apparently) at such things as taxes or car insurance or, I don't know, cooking without burning the kitchen down or something.

I have been living in this world for forty-four years; twenty-five of them on my own.

They have never had to bail me out of jail, drive to where I live to pick me up crying on someone's doorstep, spot me money so I can pay rent, none of that. I have never once moved back home or even entertained the idea. (Not that there is anything wrong with any of the aforementioned - I, personally, don't think of these things as failures. I know my parents do though.) Never once have I needed them in such a way that it could hypothetically theoretically potentially play into their idea of me being someone who doesn't have her life together.

And yet!

And yet.

And yet I feel so keenly their dismissal of my adultness, of my being capable the way I am. So many things that are so important to me, are taken by them as a sign that I'm childish. So many markers that they put so much importance on of adulthood: car ownership. House ownership. Children of my own. - some I will never check off on, some I passed too late (whoever heard of owning your first car at 38!), some I very vocally dismiss as a marker of adulthood in the first place.

This hasn't gotten any better (heavy sarcasm) since I developed mental health problems. Why only today, in a phone call with my mom, I had to justify my use of social media to her (since of course all of social media is universally bad, and the fact that I "spend so much time glued to your phone" is a dire sign of my impending insanity (more heavy sarcasm)), AND list all of the things that I do to relax to make up for being stressed out of my wits due to my hypersensitivity. And thank GOD I listed knitting among them, "at least that's being creative" - thank you Mom, for your approval; I needed it so badly. (heaviest sarcasm yet)

I mean in a way I get it; she doesn't see me day to day, she doesn't know that I *have* arranged my life in such a way that I'm mostly okay. But the thing is: I have told her. I have told her, and I am not being believed. Because I couldn't possibly know best what I need. Like, even my consumption of food - I tell her that one of my strategies is making sure that I get enough food so that I don't fall into a blood sugar hellhole, and the first thing she worries about is whether or not the food that I eat is healthy food. Fuck, Mom, sometimes all that helps is chocolate and ice cream!!

And this conflating of "we're worried about you" and "we still don't trust that you know what you're doing, so tell me in precise detail what you're doing so that I can judge if youre doing it right (based on my incomplete knowledge of you and of being HSP)" is....... tiresome. Especially when their causes for worry are based on their headcanons, basically; hypotheses and images in their own minds, based on when we see each other twice a year, usually not at my best, because (who would have thought it?!) being around my parents is fucking stressful to me!

So earlier this month we had such a visit, and it went badly, and a few days after I got home, my mom and I talk about the visit and I tell her, in very plain and coarse language so that she'll fucking hear me, how fucking badly it went - and the next thing I know is I get a phone call from my DAD (in itself only a thing that happens in dire needs), saying that I made my mother cry, telling me with tears in his own voice that I need help, that they think I need help (i.e. therapy), basically staging an intervention based on the abovementioned hypotheses and images, and not even talking to me or asking me any background for proving or disproving their theses.

When I do not need therapy, I've worked with therapists and coaches before, I am the clearest on my needs and accommodations that I've been *in my life* - I just need my parents to accept those needs and accommodations, and to trust that I have things handled, and to damn well consult me first before they think that their precious little baby girl is out there in the world not knowing how to deal.

I've been managing myself even when I still lived with you, you numbskulls. Moving out was the best decision of my LIFE (and arguably saved it)!

God, I am so angry. I am SO angry. I can't handle well being treated dismissively at the best of times, and their dismissal is CONSTANT, and they don't even realize it. I told my mother, in today's phone call, several times that she could trust me when I say that my social media usage isn't detrimental, when I say that I have my life arranged in such a way that most days I'm okay, that I have a grip on things. And she said "well all right then, if you say so" and oh the humoring was audible and I am so furiously, incandescently angry.

And the thing is, I cannot have this conversation with them.

Not on my own, anyway.

Oh how I *wish* that there was a way in which I could sit them down, sit down myself, and then look at a family therapist or someone like that, who will then moderate that conversation so that I can be *part* of the conversation, and not also its moderator. Because that is what I'd try to be, if I sat them down with only myself, and that would NOT work out. As it is, every time I talk with them, I walk on eggshells, I constantly watch myself and them, I check everything I say to make sure I'm communicating clearly and factually and in I-messages and that whole-ass shit, and it is such a high demand on my brain that it leaves me shaking with the effort, ten minutes in. (Not because I'm afraid they'd get abusive. Don't worry. It's never been that, neither in word nor in deed. It's just the constant dismissal, which won't be helped if I have an emotional meltdown.) Still, it's an amount of managing them and their emotions that is not fair to put on my shoulders alone, but as the person that I am, that is where I'd put it, because I don't know how to have that conversation in other ways (curse of being a social worker...).

If you've read all the way to here, thank you. I appreciate you.

[sonicenvy]

I had another conversation with someone who didn't have health insurance today about ACA that she didn't know existed as an option. Ever since I got my first ACA plan last year after turning 26 I have been a big ACA fan because this piece of landmark legislation is the reason I have health insurance instead of being in thousands of dollars of medical debt. It bugs the ever living shit out of me whenever I see internet leftists saying things like "the ACA didn't do anything because it is not medicare for all." It really speaks to me about the privilege that these people likely have because they're not noticing the amount of monumental positive change and harm reduction that was made by the bill.

The ACA is a bill that is comprehensive, and walks, talks, and chews gum at the same time, and I think a lot of people who are either a.) too young to remember how health insurance in this country worked before the ACA or b.) have not had to get government subsidized health insurance because they have always had either their parents' insurance or employer insurance really and truly don't get it. I am obviously too young to remember how healthcare worked before the ACA because I am under 30, but I do have a mom who works in healthcare and lots of older relatives that talk about it a lot so I was pretty familiar with the concept despite this.

I am low-income, in school, and have an employer that doesn't offer me employer subsidized plans, so the ACA quickly became pretty important to me as a person with lifelong disability, higher than normal cancer predisposition and a need for lifelong psychiatric care.

Also, if you are in your 20s but under 26 and still on your parents' health insurance? Bam! You are directly benefiting from the ACA. Before the ACA you would not have been able to be on your parents insurance plan in your 20s.

Some things that the ACA did:

Made it affordable for people who are above the medicaid income limit and/or self-employed to independently purchase health insurance. Before the ACA premiums for independently purchased health plans could be $500+ for individual plans! If you were one of the many Americans who worked multiple part-time jobs that did not provide PT employees with insurance, you were basically fucked and uninsured. If you were a small business or self-employed, you were also fucked. The creation of the healthcare dot gov health insurance marketplace, which is open to anyone was a massive success of the bill, and millions of Americans benefit from it. During open enrollment (or after a specific life event such as "turned 26," or "became unemployed") a person can log on to health care dot gov, see a wide range of plans, and purchase one. The government then provides you with a premium subsidy (which is what your employer does for you if you have an employer plan) to lower the cost of the premium. Subsidies are calculated based on a person's income so people with lower incomes get higher subsidies.

Obviously there is some nuance, and a coverage gap with ACA plans for individuals who make above $60,000 (and are not a small business obtaining a group contract with an insurance company) where premiums are still very expensive because they are ineligible for the majority of the premium tax subsidy, which is a major ACA weakness, but for everyone in the $30,000-$55,000 gap and for owners of small businesses that want to offer plans for their employees, the benefits are huge. I am able to get a PPO with a low deductible, low OOP for less than $200/mo in premiums! There is exactly zero way that I would have been able to do that if I were trying to get insured pre-ACA.

Made it so that insurance companies could not discriminate against patients with so-called pre-existing conditions — so basically if you are disabled, the insurance company can no longer: a.) decline to provide you coverage or b.) increase your premiums/ reduce your plan benefits because you have a disability or get something like, oh, idk, FUCKING CANCER. Like there were people who got cancer and found out that their insurer dropped them because they did not want to pay out for expensive cancer treatment. That was a thing that was legal for health insurance companies to do before the ACA, and they fucking did that. The pre-existing conditions clause was one of the biggest benefits that has been touted since the beginning of the bill's conception and passage. Under the ACA, all health insurance companies are banned from denying plan applications for any reason, or from revoking plan coverage for any reason that isn't "patient stopped paying their premium." Made it so that children could stay on their parents' health insurance plans until they were 26 instead of being booted at 18. Made it so that all plans must provide some level of coverage for a list of specific EHBs (Essential Health Benefits) such as "emergency room care," "prenatal and pregnancy related care," "preventative care such as doctor recommended cancer screenings for patients" "office visits with general practitioners," etc.

If you have an marketplace plan or medicare/medicaid, that plan MUST provide you with contraceptives at no cost to you regardless of whether or not you have met your deductible. Democrats also wanted this to be true for all other plans, but unfortunately in 2014, whacko religious conservatives got themselves an exemption for "companies with fervently held religious beliefs against contraception" from providing this coverage in their employer subsidized plans in the bullshit case of Burwell v. Hobby Lobby Stores, Inc., which was decided by a conservative majority vote in the Supreme Court. A case which had other broad and shitty implications btw, and which is yet another example of why allowing weird conservatives to get elected to the presidency is bad for America. btw, in the original intention of the ACA they wanted to also include mandatory coverage for abortion services. Unfortunately, the Republicans (and a group of stupid pro-life dems who suck, and to my knowledge are not in congress now) torpedoed this provision despite Nancy Pelosi's best efforts and refused to pass the bill at all as long as this provision remained in it. Reason #10000000 Republicans suck.

Lots more that I'm not naming here, but I hope you get the idea. My point is that even though ACA was not a medicare for all bill, it was a landmark (and very needed) piece of healthcare reform legislation that changed a lot about the landscape of health insurance in America. Tragically, right wing and far left smearing of it has obscured the truth about the many good things that the bill did do. Was it perfect? Absolutely the fuck not! Even Obama himself admits this. What it was was a major victory against injustices in the system, and a massive piece of harm reduction legislation, and I wish that more Americans credited it for the things it did do.

Dems managed to get the bill passed with the vast majority of their highest priorities still in it despite major republic ratfuckery combined with a minority of independents and dems who sucked. Pelosi walked circles around these fuckers day and night to get this bill passed, and I for one am deeply grateful. Because of the ACA I can get the healthcare that I desperately need as a disabled person with higher than normal cancer risk. I can get my desperately needed medications and see all of my doctors because of this piece of legislation. I was able to get surgery to remove CANCER from my body becuase of this legislation, so yeah, fuck everyone going "the ACA is bad because it's not perfect medicare for all." Girl (gender neutral), I (and many other people) would not be surviving if it were not for this bill, and I for one, think that that is a whole heck of a lot better than all of us dying because y'all want to wait for perfect legislation. Harm reduction is good and is an important step on the road to bigger and better change. Universal health care has risen to more popular and broad public opinion/knowledge because the ACA passed.

Yeah, anyways this is rant about how fucking stupid anti-ACA people are. To deny the gains of meaningful healthcare reform is a clear sign of privilege, ignorance, and tunnel vision that lets perfect be the enemy of good or better.

This is also a post about a clear and obvious way that Dems are infinitely different (and better) than republicans. Voting dem is harm reduction. Not voting, voting third party or protest write in voting is a vote for republicans. And republicans??? They give exactly zero shits about anyone other than themselves. They support stupid and insane religious conservative politics, and look to fuck over the American people (and everyone else abroad) at every turn because they don't believe in helping people; their convictions are all about hate, prejudice, fearmongering, and a right-wing Christian Theocracy. They would rather see millions of people die than give dems a win, because they are spiteful and hateful. They want us to be afraid, disengaged, disorganized and fighting one another, because their ideas, convictions and beliefs are deeply unpopular, and if we organize against them, they will lose.

[compassionatereminders]

I had an argument with a friend. He keeps reminding me how lucky I am that I get an allowance monthly and that "I get to be picky with the job I want to have or if I even want one." And while that's true, I'm very aware of that to the point that I feel guilty for the privilege, he knows this. I asked him why he thinks I don't work. He responded with "because you're not. You're a full time student" I interpreted that as him saying I'm not working because I am a full time student, I said that other full time students work though. He quite harshly and passive aggressively said that "he's sorry that he didn't realize that I represent all other full time students" and that I should just "carry on and do whatever." I explained my point of view as to why I said that to which he just said that he never claimed that that's why I don't work and I should "read the message in full." Throughout his texts he has the emojis 🙄 and 😒 spread around. I didn't respond. He sent me another message hours after apologizing for "being a bit harsh." I also haven't responded to that. I'm annoyed, hurt and frustrated. Am I wrong for how I interpreted the message and how I'm feeling? I was already having a bad day. Me asking why he thinks I don't work was to see if he remembers what I told him; I can't simultaneously work and study without my mental health going under. I feel extremely guilty for not being homeless, being able to afford food, getting a hefty allowance and my parent paying for insurance. And yet he always sees everything in such black and white or pragmatic terms. I know I'm lucky. I want to work, I want to work so badly but I can't. Everyone in my social circle works and I'm just not able to handle it. It hurts to constantly be reminded of this and "how lucky I am." I don't allow myself so many things because I haven't earned the money myself. I'm 27 and only ever babysat and did one internship in my field. I feel so fucking guilty and lazy all the time.

Okay, to me it sounds like this conflict is more about your insecurities getting triggered than about your friend objectively being mean. So maybe what you need to do is calmly communicate that you know you're lucky, but that it's triggering for you to constantly be reminded of "how lucky you are", because it's actually a more complex situation with more factors than pure luck playing into why you aren't working also. I think communicating this clearly is likely to be more productive than continuing to argue about it to the point of getting hurt and upset. I also think that the guilt you seem to be feeling due to not currently being forced to work is completely out of proportion, and that this might be why it isn't obvious to your friend why this discussion is hurting you so much

[tired-dragon22]

I've been seeing this going around, and I just wanna vent and see if it clears my thoughts. Since last October, and even before then, I've struggled with what's happening in Palestine and Gaza. Because it's bullshit that the US government is funding a genocide, is refusing to listen to what a great majority of the people want, which is a complete cease of aid to Isr@el . I want that so badly, I want to see good news I on my phone, I want to see those families have the room to grieve and to rage and to rebuild their beautiful homes. I want to see Palestinian children play in the sun without having to worry about being labeled as a threat. I've seen the protests and fundraisers, and shared/participated in anyway I'm able to. And I've also seen the shit show that's coming in the US depending on which presidential candidate goes into office. I'm a lesbian, Mexican American woman. Both my parents immigrated from Mexico when they were young. I've got younger siblings, two sisters and a brother. I know so many people like us. We struggled when Trump was in office before. We struggled before then, but it has been even more terrifying ever since then. We're fucked if he goes into office, especially with the layout for Project 2025. All of us are. Every single minority, every single person that doesn't fit into the cookie cutter image that Republicans want will be fucking crushed. Our rights are already being taken away because of who Trump put into the Supreme Court. My family struggles with a crap ton of health issues, my sisters both have knee and back problems. They've had a number of surgeries and still struggle with more issues every day. I thank whatever deity exists that we're able to cover most of their necessities with insurance. And I know damn well all of that is gone if Trump wins. I fucking hate what Biden did during his administration, refusing to see what was happening, refusing to fucking listen. I'm tentatively hopeful things will be easier to protest and try to fix if we were to be under Harris. But I'm also too pessimistic and skeptical to fully believe that. And that's my main problem. I don't want to vote for someone who would support a genocide. I would so much rather vote for a third party. But I know damn well it'll only push things in the wrong direction, considering how terrible this fucking country's election system goes. That's how Trump got elected in 2016 after all. People didn't vote and they assumed cause of the popularity win Clinton had she'd win. And I'd rather fucking rot somewhere than vote for Trump. So my only viable option, it seems, is to vote for Harris, whether I like her or not. And I hate it. I hate it so fucking much. I see people say they're gonna vote for a third party, I've even seen some people say they're gonna vote for Trump because they don't want to vote for Harris. And I'm just begging someone to explain to me how any of that would be better. We can try and fix things if we're under a politician that will at least not practically burn our rights at the stake. I want to have autonomy of my own body. I want that for my sisters, for my mom, for my brother and for my dad. I want that for all the trans kids who'll die if Trump goes into office. I want freedom for all the minorities that live in this godforsaken country, I want Palestine to have it's land back and for Isr@el to fuck right off. I just don't know what to do anymore. Btw, if anyone bothers to read everything I just wrote down, I'd really appreciate any advice.

[imjussaiyan]

Anyone else have a sibling that HAS to have ALL the attention and is entitled as fuck?

My sister is so fucking entitled it makes me sick. And she’s fake on top of it all.

So I know accidents happen and it only takes one time to get pregnant. And I know you’re wondering why this is an issue and you’re probably thinking I’m an asshole.

Well, we live on the family farm with our parents because this country is a hellscape. She was going through trade school, which fine I get them supporting her through that. However, her boyfriend lives here too (that’s partially my parents stupid mistake) and neither of them have a job or source of income.

Like. At all.

My parents FULLY support them financially and otherwise. And they had the fucking nerve to get pregnant and KEEP it..? On someone else’s dime? In a home that there is literally no room for a good damn baby? With a broke ass, dead beat ass fiancé..? Because of course they’re engaged. Idk how they’re going to get married or with what money. She wants to do that before she has the baby. L O FUCKING L.

Oh, but there’s more. Not only did my parents and I pay for her trade school, she slacked off and took too many “personal days” because she was upset about social things at school. Which created MORE fees adding up to 2300 dollars. Which I paid so she could graduate. Bitch. You are almost 22. Shut the fuck up.

ON TOP of that, I found a nice little manufactured home for a low price and showed her because it was cute. Not that I can afford it, but it’s fun to window shop and the bitch says, “I should have mom and dad help me with that.”

Our parents cannot afford to do that. And I told her so. She then gets all sad and butthurt. Like, excuse me? We literally grew up poor as dirt and she thinks our parents are just going to buy her everything? I know they spoiled the fuck out of her and that’s partially why she’s such a selfish brat, but honestly, it’s her personality.

But wait. THERE’S MORE.

Not only is she pregnant on our parents dime, she signed up for state insurance incorrectly and was just going to give up even after our other sister told her exactly how to do it and offered help. Her response? “Oh, mom and dad will pay for it.”

WITH WHAT MONEY, BITCH?!

She does next to fucking nothing around the house and is overly fucking sensitive about anything and everything. She’s also a little bitch ass know it all and she literally has no fucking clue about how anything in this world works, including her own body. Yes. She doesn’t even know how her vagina works and she decides to have a god damn baby that no one can afford.

And now I’m the asshole because I’m NOT excited. Nor do I have to be. She lied about “the condom didn’t fit right.” Then why did you do it? Especially when she KNEW she was ovulating..?

She tried to have a kid with her last fiancé under the same exact circumstances, but aborted that one because she realized it was a bad idea. Mind you, I’m the only one who knows this. If my hyper religious parents found out, they’d go ballistic. Part of me wishes I hadn’t protected her from that. Anyway, she did this shit on purpose. I know when she’s lying and she can’t even keep her lame ass story straight.

I am so done with her rn.

**** UPDATE

He finally got a decent job. Even though he could’ve been working a meager in between one instead of relying on my family for everything for over a year… but whatever I guess. At least he’s got a job now.

[capeline-cutemeister-real]

Shoutout to how my parents raised me. I hate being incapable of talking about my problems. I hate the fact i had to rewrite this rant 20 times because i felt like i was being overdramatic even though im talking to literally no one.

I hate that I can't talk normally. I Just fucking love how I have people that I can only tell my feelings through vents on this stupid fucking hellsite, that I can only fucking trick my brain into thinking its okay to admit im weak when theres no one around. Everything is my fault, from a failed math test to the people leaving me to the problems other people have. Constantly policing my own behavior as if that would fucking help anything, as if that will make people love me more. As if that would stop them from kicking me out of their lives.

I hate having crippling social anxiety and latching onto people, i love desiring relationships and compassion and a community and passion and a desire to live and experience everything good there is. Instead I get to cling to this false sense of individuality and fend for myself because apparently the only fucking thing that mattered in my 22 fucking years of life was making sure that i can take care of myself

Well I can. Fuck you. Fuck you you piece of shit. How fucking dare you. How dare you raise me like this. You could have raised me to be anything. Anything your ridiculous heart dreamed up- and instead you made me this. Some fucking shell of a person, damned to cling to this false, stone faced idol, scrabbling together my confidence and security, my *pride* in my ability to take care of myself. Why would I need anything else as long as I could care for myself.

I can do anything, except crying, of course. The one fucking thing I want to do more than anything else. You know how long its been since I've cried? Really? Sincerely? Has it been months, years, decades? Do you even remember the last time that I cried? Do you remember that it was because of you?

I can pass my courses. I can set up my own doctors appointments, i can improve my own health (but not like that), I can survive all alone in this howling void. I can move out of your house within a week, I can pay for my own insurance. I can pursue my own education, pay my own bills. I can find people that love me and cherish me and want to take care of me.

But I can't fucking get rid of your curse on me. Because thats what it really fucking is you stupid bitch. What did you think you were giving me, a gift? Oh what a GLORIOUS gift individuality is. The greatest gift of them all. I could give a king individuality and watch him crumble under its weight before my fucking eyes, damned to scrabble at a community he is now excluded from by its very nature. Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it fuckign amazing? Your "gift" to me has carved a gaping hole in my torso, an ugly facade of a human walking around, every word spoken like skin peeling off, layer by layer; every word unspoken like another knife in whatever pitiful excuse for a back is left.

I can't get rid of the things you did to me. The things you said to me. The way you treated me. You think im a rapist. And before you thought I was a rapist you thought I was an annoyance. A failure. You made snide comments and jokes about how I dared to still live with you, instead of getting a fucking apartment. As if i was stupid, in this economy. You hated your little boy, and now that I'm a woman you *loathe* my existence, you're afraid of me. Afraid that I might do "something" to you.

4 months of what might as well be fucking silence and you break it to tell me that youre kicking me off your insurance. Thanks. Thanks so fucking much you asshole. I appreciate the warning. I appreciate the opportunity to be an individual that has to take care of themselves again.

Heres to another 4 months. I wonder what youll tell me next time.

[wild-moss-art]

hi moss! I hope you are having a good day!! I was wondering if you were willing to share how you convinced a doctor to yeet the uterus :O are you scared about having a major surgery? (I am, as always, having The Thoughts.)

<3 I hope you're having a good day too! It is a long story and kind of personal but I'm happy to share bc I know that it's really difficult to find info on, and if anyone has questions you can feel free to dm or send an ask. Gonna put the story under the cut.

First of all, I live in america and this will all sound very american lol.

In the interest of not burying the lede, my working theory is that I have endometriosis or adenomyosis; these are notoriously difficult to diagnose. Endometriosis is only diagnosable through a laparoscopic surgery and adenomyosis is literally only diagnosable through getting a hysterectomy and having the tissue biopsied. If you don't want a hysterectomy, you can't get an official diagnosis.

Now to the backstory. I think my medical history and experience advocating for myself medically had the most impact on being approved for this procedure.

I have been on hormonal birth control since I was about 13 or 14 practically as soon as I hit puberty I had debilitating periods. I was missing a lot of school and obviously this didn't look good for my parents, so I was put on the pill, and later when I was older I switched to IUDs. The birth control basically put a bandaid on the problem, and the IUD eliminated my period altogether.

Near the beginning of this year, I started to have a lot of pelvic pain that I initially thought was a UTI. I went to the doctor who kept telling me I didn't have the bacteria for a UTI, and basically sent me home with some antibiotics anyway, which didn't help. They did not test for any other problems. I ended up switching doctors due to insurance purposes, but was also put off by the care I'd received.

When I went to the next doctor, they were actually willing to run tests. This doctor and every other doctor I've seen since initially insisted I must have an STD. A panel was run, and I was fully clean for STDs. I was referred to a urogynecology specialist, as my main symptoms at this point were pain(which they do not care about- didnt even put it in my file) and difficulty urinating(this symptom I believe is the only reason I was able to get a referral to a specialist).

While I was waiting for my urogynecology appointment(they were pretty booked out), the pain got worse, like a lot worse. I was also having more and more hormonal symptoms like heavy acne. I was able to move my appointment up but ended up going to the ER. At the ER, I posted about my experience which I can link if you'd like but I'll include the relevant info. The doctor hadn't looked at my age on the file and initially DENIED testing because I was "too young". He came back later and approved it, because he actually looked at my fucking file. From this point on I've been livid and ready to fistfight every doctor Ive seen.

I was at the ER for like 10 hours and got a CT scan, which showed all the inflammation in my uterus and little in my bladder, which was when I began to realize that the bladder issue was just a symptom and not the problem. The original doctor was off duty toward the end of my visit, and the new doctor came in for briefing when she mentioned they needed to run an STD panel. I told her I'd had one about a week ago that was fully negative. She said "I need to go talk to my supervisor."

Ultimately, I was released from the ER with a prescription for extra strength ibuprofen and a referral to a gynecologist. They said my IUD was stabbing me internally, and needed to come out. They did not take it out at the ER.

At this point, it was time for my urogynecology appointment. At the appointment, I told them about my ER visit and asked if they could take my IUD out. They said they didn't really do that there, but after I showed them my CT scan results, they did it anyway. I felt a lot better, immediately. They were helpful and awesome, but said that they mostly treat bladder problems, which was clearly not what I had.

I didnt feel fully better though, because hormonal birth control keeps endometriosis and adenomyosis symptoms and pain at bay. The pain has gotten gradually worse, but it's not longer quite as sharp and stabbing. I've been doing a lot of research about these conditions thanks to a helpful tumblr mutual, and I believe I have adenomysis. I'm not sure whether I have endometriosis.

I followed up on the gynecology referral from the er; I am really happy with this clinic so far. They are the ones that offered the hysterectomy. In my initial appointment, I mentioned that I was not on birth control and wanted to be sterilized. They asked if I wanted birth control in the meantime. I said no(I believe this helped).

(as an aside. Another reason I believe I was offered what I was is that I am married. When I listed my partner as an emergency contact, they specifically mentioned that I did not take his last name. I believe this says something about our relationship to doctors. I know often they will ask for the husband's permission in this scenario; however, they did not even bring him up beyond the last name thing.)

When I met with the doctor for a tubal ligation consult, we talked a bit about the procedure and what other symptoms I was having. I also got an ultrasound that showed inflammation in my uterus(as well as a medium sized cyst on my ovary. lmao). He said the tubal ligation would not help my other symptoms. When I mentioned my CT scan, he actually left to go look at it, returned and immediately asked if I wanted kids. When I said no, he told me he could give me a hysterectomy.

We went over some details; just a hysterectomy is a pretty non invasive procedure and doesn't even require an incision. He mentioned that it may or may not fix the whole problem(it would fix adenomyosis which only affects the uterus, not endometriosis which affects other organs) but that it's pretty complicated to remove the ovaries because it's a more invasive procedure and basically I'd have to be on hormones to simulate menopause for a really long time(I'm only 27). So that is an option, but it's better to just see if the hysterectomy fixes my problems.

The surgery is in 10 days from now and I have my intake consult on tuesday. I plan to update cause again, I know not a lot of people talk about these experiences and it would have really helped me to have known more going in. I really cant wait, I've basically been bedridden, cant exercise, can't stand for long periods of time, not much at all. I'm lucky my livelihood is sitting on my couch drawing.

Finally, I believe that it is possible that they wanted to sterilize me due to my mental health history. I am in ongoing treatment for my mental health, and have particular diagnoses that I do not disclose publicly. You can message me if you'd like to know this information.