#i want to be able to feel safe in my OWN space | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silaslich · 3 days ago

Note

May I make a request for a sequel to "In A Grave so we feel safe"? Something about it scratches an itch in my brain just right. Idk why, I think I just like it when you make 'im mean. 🫣🫣

Our skin starts to rot

Simon “Ghost” Riley x afab!reader

Summary - following from this. Simon hangs around despite the way he treats you like he can’t stand you. The feeling is mutual- to a point.

Wc - 3.8k

Cw - 18+, MDNI, GHOST IS NOT NICE, reader also is not nice, vomiting/purging, referenced/implied drug+alcohol abuse, coercive behaviour, mention of past trauma, smut, fingering, oral (r!receiving), kinda better dynamic toward the end but not really

Your fingernails scrape harshly over the roof of your mouth, and when you look into the bowl of the toilet- you see red.

You gather what’s left of the bile and blood in your mouth with your tongue and spit. Wanting rid of it. Needing to be rid of every last bit of it. All the shame and the guilt and the anxiety, it’s all churned up in your stomach, bought back up with whatever you’d managed to eat last night. Tears sting your eyes from the force and effort of purging, your spine bowed as you grip the white porcelain. Everything hurts. Your body aches. There’s a headache that is pounding like a drum behind your eyes.

The weight of his stare falls over you and so does the shame. You hear him sneer.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” He doesn’t sound as concerned as he should be considering the subject of his question.

There’s a broken laugh that’s hiccuped from your lungs as you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

“Would it matter to you if I was?” There isn’t anything he can say to make this okay, you’d be happier if he didn’t answer at all. It doesn’t even take him a second to think.

“No” it’s clipped. There’s no emotion there.

You nod to yourself but you don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. There never is. Holding a conversation with him is futile. It’s a waste of fucking breath.

He moves away, you can tell by the sound of his feet scuffing across the floor. Finally- you’re left alone. Allowed out of his sight. Not because he’s concerned, or because he cares. It’s because he wants the control. He knows that you like your own space. He knows that you don’t appreciate it when he lurks over you like a shadow. That’s exactly why he does it. It’s a tactic, like everything else he does, it’s calculated. He smarter than he looks- you’ll give him that.

He’s smart enough to know that, no, you aren’t pregnant. And there’s a very low chance of you being able to fall pregnant. You’ve had an IUD placed for as long as you’ve known him. He’s questioned you enough times about it before. Pinching the device under your skin, smirking when you wince at the pain. He’s asking to embarrass you, begging you to ask the question of what would happen between the two of you if you were in-fact pregnant with his child. He wants you to know that he wouldn’t change. That it wouldn’t make him step up or start to think about his actions.

He’s exhausting to be around, frankly, it’s a living nightmare. You thought you’d miss him. After Price had sent you packing there was a tiny part of you that really thought that you’d miss having Simon near. He’s different here than he used to be back on base or out of country. Maybe that’s because he had the others there, perhaps he didn’t want to let his true colours show for all to see. He clearly thinks very little of you, that and your opinion of him. He couldn’t care less about how you see him, how you perceive him. That does sting, just a little bit.

The water cools your skin as you wash your face, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes and brushing your teeth until your gums feel sore. This is the routine now. When he’s here at least, walking on eggshells in your own home, pretending that he doesn’t bother you as much as he does. You’re lying to yourself, and doesn’t he know it.

You emerge from your bathroom and tread back to your room to get ready for work. In the few months since he’d come crashing back into your life you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on it again. It’s rubbish money and the hours are even worse but it helps in its own ways. You’re back to some sort of normalcy, outside of Simon and his whole existence within your life. It’s good, you hate to admit, your colleagues are nice enough and the job itself isn’t hard at all. It’s stable. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Stacking tins and organising pasta on shelves hadn’t been a career aspiration of yours- but you’re alive.

The need for relief is better managed, if you can say that. It’s not always pretty. Some nights are better than others. Your drinking is controllable and the painkillers no longer have a death-like grip on your mind and needs. Sometimes it’s hard to stay afloat, to resist the urge to drink yourself to the point you can’t stand upright or crush tablets between your teeth and rub them into your gums with your tongue. It’s a slippery slope. You can only climb so high before a strong enough wind blows you back down, but growth is growth in your eyes. There’s a noticeable pattern too, it’s always worse when he’s around. He hardly helps the issue. He raids your cupboards and empties your work bag onto the floor every night to make sure you don’t have anything he deems as contraband. As if you’re a child.

The ironic thing is, that he wouldn’t care if it killed you, not really. Not deep down. It might inconvenience him, sure, but it wouldn’t affect him in his daily life. He’d move on to the next unfortunate soul. Hell, you’re probably not the only one he’s seeing, he’s probably already got someone else on the back burner for when you do eventually fuck your liver to the point of no return. It wouldn’t surprise you at all. Not from him.

You get ready and dress for work and head to the hallway that leads to the front door to grab your bag, you’ll sort lunch out at work, because you can hear him in the kitchen. It’s as your key slides into the lock that you hear him still in whatever he’s doing, you bite your tongue.

“I’m off to work” your voice sounds so foreign in your own ears.

There’s a few seconds of drawn out silence and you take that as your cue to leave. Then his voice cuts in again-

“Come ‘ere” it’s rough from his throat. Not yet warmed up since he’d awoken.

You grip the door handle, you could walk out so easily, pretend you haven’t heard him, but it’s hardly worth the aggravation. You leave your key abandoned in the lock and turn to make your way through the living room and toward the kitchen. It’s there that you find him leaning his hip against the counter, a mug of coffee steaming away in his hand, he’s looking right at you as you enter the space.

“Everything okay?” You ask, a brow raised. You’ll be late if he isn’t quick with whatever he wants. He raises a brow back at you.

“I said come ‘ere” he tilts his chin, eyeing up the space directly in front of him.

You blink long and hard to hide the way your eyes want to roll in your skull. You’ll definitely be late at this rate. You do as he wants, nevertheless, stepping right up to him and stopping when you feel the steam from his coffee under your nose. Practically black, as he always has it, barely a drop of milk and no sugar. He’s looking at you in that way that always manages to make you feel so small. Not physically, because that’s already a given. But small in the way that he sees you as inferior to him in every single way. You likely are, but he doesn’t have to make it so obvious to you.

“What is it?” Your temper shortens, just slightly.

His eyes narrow, he notices the shift. His free hand lifts to the side of your face, running a rough thumb over the apple of your cheek, it’s a tender gesture. On the surface level.

“Come and see Price” his voice has softened, just that little bit, the way it does when he wants you to do something he knows you won’t want to.

He wants you to believe he’s on your side. It’s immediate the way you shake your head, he hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Simon- we’ve already talked about this” your patience is thinned to almost nothing. He could have said something earlier, long before you’re walking out the door to catch the next bus.

“Yeah, and you’re not seeing it from my perspective” he eyes you from over his nose, again, making you feel small. There’s a sour taste at the back of your throat.

“When do you ever try to see things from my perspective?” You raise your chin, if he wants an argument over this, you worry he’ll get what he’s after.

He brings his mug to his lips, staring at you from over the lip of it.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever stooped low enough to see things from your point of view, sweetheart” you can’t see his lips but you’re convinced you’d see a smirk there if you could. Your fists clench at your sides.

“I find that very hard to believe” you know little of Simon’s past, but you know enough to know that he is indeed lying. It’s another tactic, another way to get under your skin and piss you off. For his own pure enjoyment.

“Yeah? Try me” he lowers his mug and places it on the counter. His full attention on you. He folds his arms over his bare chest, his tattoos right in your line of sight.

There’s only so low that you’re willing to go, but whatever you say- you know that Simon will have something worse to say about you. That’s just a given with him.

“No no you’re right” you wave him off, stepping out of his space and turning to face the windows across the living room.

A beat of silence.

“Tommy was the druggie, right? Not you”

It’s audible, the way his jaw clicks. You don’t move.

“That’s right” his voice is flat, but you know him well enough to know that he’s annoyed, pissed beyond belief. Maybe not at what you’ve said, but that you’ve dared to say anything at all.

“Means I know a lost cause when I see one” you hear his body shift, the way his right shoulder clicks. Adjusting his stance.

You nod, silently. That’s his perception of you. It hardly rings true, a few months ago? Maybe. Now? You give yourself enough credit to know that you’re doing the right thing. Keeping this job. Not crawling back to Price. It settles the nagging feeling in your chest. You’re trying, at least. Making an effort.

“Why are you still here?” Still- you don’t turn to face him.

You keep your eyes glued to the way the world ticks by outside the window, there’s satisfaction in knowing he can’t see just how unbothered you are at his words. Before, you would have given him what he wanted and cried. Would have screamed and shouted in his face. An accusing finger pressed into his chest. You’d spat at him, once. Then he’d grab you and pull you close, pressing your snotty tear-stained face into the flesh of his chest and make a spectacle of soothing you. Telling you how he forgives you, how he knows it’s the booze and drugs talking- not you. He’d say that you’ll feel better in the morning and tug you into bed or towards the nearest waist-level surface and fuck you raw and slow and everlasting until you’re a puddle of nothing. Dumb and boneless- everything he already believes you to be.

He makes a noise. One that if it were translated into English, it would sound like ‘what the fuck are you on about?’

“I asked you why you’re here”

“Yeah, I heard you” his tone stiffens, it’s clear he doesn’t have an answer for you, therefore- he won’t answer.

There’s a few moments where the silence tells. There’s the sound of a car horn blaring outside and the birds that live in the gutter above your window chirp and sing, it’s the way life just keeps humming away- despite everything. Despite it all.

Simon moves and you stay stood still. You turn your head, watching out the corner of your eye as he walks toward you, he doesn’t look you in the eye. Instead looking out of the window as you had been. You follow his line of sight, watching the same cyclist ride past as he does.

“You treat me like shit y’know” you don’t know why you’ve said it. The thought had just been there, at the front of your mind and the tip of your tongue.

He turns his head, just slightly, to look at you. You feel his eyes- they burn.

“I treat everyone like shit” he returns his gaze to the glass, hands slid into the pockets of his trackie bottoms.

You laugh. It breezes past your lips so easily, so freely. You turn your gaze to him, noticing the way his jaw hardens when you do.

“No you don’t” you don’t take your eyes away from his face. You can’t.

For a moment you remember who he is- what he is. And in that moment you find yourself feeling sorry for him. Maybe he deserves more credit, because he could treat you a lot worse, realistically. It’s the one thing you tell yourself when he’s around, that he could be so much worse. It’s not a defence, no, it’s a lifeline. He’s suffered as you have and maybe that’s why you let him treat you the way he does, because that’s what you think you’re worth. Rough hands and sharp words and glaring eyes. It rolls off your back better these days, it’s easier to shrug off.

Simon hums, he’s caught out and he knows it.

“No- no I don’t” he rolls his shoulders until the right one cracks- again.

You bite the tip of your tongue. There’s so much you need to say to him and it’s never the right time or circumstance. You walk on eggshells around him because you can’t deal with the consequences of his temper and his irrationality. For someone who commands a platoon and leads so naturally, he’s the most pig-headed man you’ve ever met. He doesn’t want to hear your opinion or listen to you explain your point, even if he knows you’re right and he’s wrong.

“Why are you really here?” You’re still looking at him and your chest squeezes when he casts his eyes to the side, barely eyeing you. You’ve always loved his eyes.

They soften, if only slightly, it shows he’s considering the question. That he might not shrug it off like he does everything else.

“I don’t know” Simon’s voice carries that lilt to it, the one that reminds you of the man you’d first welcomed into your home- into your bed. Soft voice and attentive hands. Like he could actually stand being near you.

For a few seconds, it’s as if the world outside stops. The birds aren’t chirping and the traffic has cleared. Even the breeze stills, there’s nothing but the sounds of the both of you breathing. Out of sync. Always.

There’s a weight that dislodges from your chest. You didn’t realise you’d been carrying it for so long. Ultimately burdened by it. You haven’t got any answers, none that would clear away the ache in your heart when he looks at you in that knowing way. But somehow, there’s a satisfaction to knowing that he’s as lost as you are, the same way that you don’t understand why you let him stay- he doesn’t know why he stays either.

He stiffens slightly when he feels you at his side. Head and left shoulder pressed into his ribs and arm respectively. He quickly slackens his muscles, leaning into you slightly.

“We’re as bad as each other” the words are a little incoherent, your cheek smushed against his arm.

You’re not bothered if he hears it or not at this point. It wouldn’t matter. You only know he’s heard you by the way he sighs, craning his neck to lean the side of his head against the top of yours.

“I’m afraid I’m worse” he says it matter-of-factly. It’s the truth, to him.

“Much worse” his voice dies away, slightly. Not as though he’s embarrassed by the words, but perhaps because he knows you’re acutely aware.

You’re fully aware that he’s worse than you, in every sense of the fucking word. You’ve been sugar coating things, telling him what he wants to hear instead of what he needs to hear. He can appreciate that to a point. But he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t need the softness. That sentiment had been beaten out of him long ago, long before the Army sank its claws into him too. He knows what’s right and what’s wrong, it’s as if he doesn’t have the ability to physically stop himself from doing and saying things he doesn’t mean. In a military setting he can be loud and brash and rude; it’s his job. He spends his days as someone else’s superior, telling them when they can and can’t piss, telling them where and when they will die- essentially.

It’s hard for him to kick that habit when he’s out of that setting. When lives aren’t on the line. Yet, you’re right; he doesn’t treat Price or Gaz or Johnny that way. He can’t explain why, and that’s worse than if he could. He’s just a bad person, that’s what it ultimately boils down to at the end of the day.

It’s all he can think of as he takes you by the hand, watching your wide eyes watch him; pushing you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the sofa. Somehow, it’s different, for reasons he can’t think of. Simon Riley has never been a religious man-

Is this what repenting feels like?

He handles you differently, in his own way. The way he thinks he knows how. When he removes your clothes he’s no longer chasing something, that deep-dark spot in his vision that blurs his rationality is gone.

It’s too late for redemption- to prove that he can be something he’s not; because he can’t. He’d be lying and you know that, so you won’t ask that of him, you wouldn’t expect it either.

He holds your gaze as he presses his lips to the mound of your pussy. He watches how your chest heaves, sucking in air through your mouth, like a deer in headlights. This is so foreign from him, the tenderness, the gentleness of his hands and his mouth. No gnashing teeth or bruising fingers. There’s only featherlight touches- to begin with.

Simon warms you up the way he should. Sliding his tongue through the lips of your pussy, gathering the wetness he finds already there- he hasn’t even started with you yet, not really. There’s a slight smile that creeps up the side of his mouth at that. You tell him how much you hate him, but he has this effect on you; that in itself calls your bluff.

He listens to the way your breath stutters, feeling the way your hips cant into the wait of his mouth when he slows down or stops completely. Your juices are smeared across his lips and down his chin, he rubs his face into your pussy, slathering himself in your wetness. He wants to smell you on his skin tomorrow when he leaves, because he will leave, if you really want him to.

“Oh- oh fuck” he plucks these sounds out of you so easily.

He curls two thick fingers into the tightness of your cunt, reeling at how easy your pussy sucks him in. So needy. So eager for anything he’ll give. He watches his digits disappear, barely wanting to take his eyes off of yours but needing to visualise the feeling of your tight hole sucking him in, clamping like a vice around his fingers as he fucks them deeper inside of you.

“There?” He asks, curling his fingers, watching you nod your head wildly.

“So wet f’me” his voice drags, drunk on your pussy.

It’s like electricity hits his bones when he presses his mouth to you again, lapping at your clit while he continues to pump his fingers into you. Matching rhythm. Swirling his tongue, beckoning you with the wet muscle in his mouth, luring you to the edge. When you curl your fingers into the length of hair at the top of his head, that’s when he’s really spurred on. Letting you rub your pussy all over his face, burying his nose in the mound of flesh there, nipping teeth when you get too bold for his liking- because he’s still in charge here.

“Soo desperate” he tries to be cruel with his tone but it goes right over your head.

He feels the way your walls clamp around his fingers. The way your breathing grows ragged, sloppy thrusts of your hips against his mouth and tongue, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge as Simon fights to pull you there.

“Oh- a-a fuck Si” you’re a stuttering mess. “M’close-”

You’re practically gushing when you cum. He laps at you like he hasn’t before, listening to cries of his own name that bounce off the walls. The sounds of your pussy oozing against his mouth make his cock leak in his boxers. Hard and untouched. He stutters his hips, seeking any kind of friction.

There isn’t any; but watching and feeling you squirm under him like this is a new found thing. He’s had you on your back more times than he can think to count. Yet, none have felt like this- not even in the early days when things were right between the two of you.

Maybe it’s because things have indeed shifted, that maybe you’ve solidified your belief that you deserve better - that this might be it for him.

Even when you almost pull his hair from the roots, riding his nose as he rides you through your orgasm. Your spine arching off the sofa cushion, needing more despite the fact that he’s given you everything.

“Oh -Simon” it’s hissed through your teeth. He’s doing too much now, clamping his fingers into your thighs, not wanting to let go.

It’s the greediness in him. He wants too much of everything, he has no control. There isn’t that little voice in his head that tells him he’s had enough, that he’s done enough. Not that he would listen to it.

He finally lets up, leaning back on his heels, still knelt between your thighs. Eyes watching yours, you’re staring up at the ceiling. Eyes hooded, lips agape, breath ragged- he can’t help but think you look beautiful.

So why has he never said it before?

He leans his cheek against your thigh, eyes still watching your face, then you feel them- feel his gaze. Your eyes snap to his and for a moment, you look remorseful. Then you open your mouth to speak-

“We’re still not friends”

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d1xonss · 3 days ago

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 65 ~ A Friend

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 5.8k

In this chapter ~ After the restless night spent in the barn, amends were made the following morning, just the closure Rose needed to finally be able to move on. Though the peace didn't last, especially when the group is greeted with a new and unfamiliar face. A stranger who spreads the word of the community he comes from.

After Rick's motivational speech, and hundreds of walkers trying to break down the barn doors at nightfall, sleep still didn't come to me. I remained wide awake, numbly looking around at my surroundings for an eternity and a half until the sun started to peek through the cracks of the walls. It was only then I started to slightly doze off. Exhaustion ached in my bones, begging for me to get a few hours of rest in the safe space while I had the chance, yet I still tossed and turned uncomfortably.

My eyes fluttered shut after the long hours of restlessness, not even registering the footsteps that were approaching until the figure sat themselves down beside me. My neck jerked a bit as I opened my eyes slowly when I felt the presence, my heart sinking a little when I saw it was Maggie. It's not that I didn't want to talk to her, I just didn't know how. I didn't know what to say. It felt stupid and inconsiderate to bring up Beth, but yet it was the only thing on my mind, and something we hadn't so much as acknowledged in weeks.

She looked me over for a few lingering moments, managing a small smile, the first one I had seen from her in a very long time. I found myself unable to hold back one of my own, watching as her eyes lit up at just my simple gesture.

At first we didn't speak, just enjoying what was left of the quiet until her voice came out just barely above a whisper. "I miss you."

The simplicity felt like a punch to the gut, but what seemed to hurt worse was the softness of her tone. She didn't sound bitter, or angry at me for avoiding her whenever I could. Just sad.

"I miss you too." I whispered, trying to swallow my emotion. "Mags, I'm so sorry. I just...I've been...I didn't know what to say; I still don't. I'm just so sorry." I admitted sadly.

She shook her head, "You don't ever need to say you're sorry to me, okay? I just needed to...actually talk to you again. I know you've been distant because of everything, and I understand why...but please-"

"I'm trying." I interrupted softly, "I had an...epiphany last night, or something," I huffed, "It made me realize what I was doing...and I just need to keep fighting. We all do. Pushing everyone away isn't the way to do that...so, I'm trying."

A tear of utter exhaustion slipped down her rosy cheek as she nodded again, "I'm trying too. Even though it feels impossible...suffering with one thing after another. But I understand the need to be alone being easier than facing whatever hell we've ended up in...believe me, I do." she sniffled.

My chest ached upon hearing her own battle with sadness, reaching out to wrap my arms around her shoulders before I could even process what I was doing, pulling her into a tight hug. She sighed shakily, feeling her arms come around my middle in an instant as her shoulders began to shake whilst she cried. And it wasn't long before her sobs coaxed my own, the two of us finally mourning the loss of Beth together, the relief feeling like no other.

"I miss her." she muttered through the tears.

I nodded slowly, "Yeah...me too."

She gripped onto me tighter, my shirt scrunching up in her grasp as we were both content with quietly crying in each other's arms. In a way, this was something that we both needed. Clearing the air, the tension, and everything else in between as I felt like I could finally look her in the eye again. Something therapeutic. Neither one of us knew how much time passed while we let everything out, but it didn't matter to me. I just knew that I had her back, and that's all I could care about right now.

Eventually we untangled our arms from one another, laughing quietly once we saw each other's tear stained cheeks. Nothing about it was funny, but the sleep deprivation was clearly catching up to the both of us.

She attempted to dry her eyes with the back of her hand, "She loved you a whole lot you know."

I smiled sadly, "I could say the same thing about you."

The sound of shuffling from just behind me is what cut the conversation short, seeing Daryl moving quietly to lean up against the wall, closing his eyes once more to block the blinding sun. I frowned at the thought of having to talk to him after everything that happened. I knew we were okay, but I just didn't know what I would say. I didn't know how to even begin to explain everything that had been running through my head, it was all too much.

Though Maggie noticed my change in emotion, "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

My gaze turned toward her again, "What isn't wrong?" I asked bitterly, letting out a soft breath, "I have no idea...what I'm going to say to him."

She glanced past my shoulder to see where I was nodding before scoffing quietly, "You joking? That man practically kisses the dirt you walk on, it'll be alright...promise. Don't worry over it too much."

"I don't even know where to start." I muttered.

She shrugged, "Tell him everything."

I rolled my eyes slightly, "Start. I don't know where to start."

She laughed quietly, "Okay...just explain how you've been feeling, how hard it's taken a toll on you. And reassure him it has nothing to do with him."

"Okay," I agreed, "You know, with my luck I'll probably end up word vomiting all over him but...better than bottling it up, right?"

An amused smile crossed her face, "Right." she echoed, slowly standing back up to her feet, "I'm going to talk to Sasha, maybe take a walk...you're more than welcome to come with if you want."

My eyes glanced from her to Daryl a few times, thinking about how some fresh air would be nice, but in my mind, I knew what was more important. "I- uh...I think I've got some stuff to take care of first."

She glanced back over to where my eyes kept darting to, nodding in understanding before she walked over near where Sasha had been sleeping for the night. I watched as she leaned down to gently wake her, before they both headed outside the barn doors quietly to talk.

My heart felt a bit heavier as I looked back towards Daryl, seeing his eyes were still closed as he groggily attempted to wake up for the day and I sighed to myself. What was I supposed to say? How much was I going to tell him? How I was sorry for my mood swings yesterday? I felt that I was never really good at expressing my negative feelings and he deserved something that was actually worth listening to.

But I guess I was just going to have to wing it, seeing as though my body was being drawn to him faster than I anticipated.

I cautiously sat myself down next to him, the noise my boots made not going unnoticed by him as he immediately seemed to open his eyes. He jolted a bit on alert, but once he was it was just me, he relaxed greatly. It still managed to amaze me that after all we've been through, biting his head off no less than yesterday, he still looked at me with all the love in the world. He looked at me as if nothing happened, like everything was perfectly fine. But we both knew that wasn't the case.

"Hi." I whispered.

Though I internally cursed the moment the word left my mouth. Hi? What the hell was wrong with me? Well, I guess you have to start somewhere.

He chuckled softly, "Hey."

I took a deep breath, "I'm so sorry." I spoke quietly, tears already threatening to fall from my eyes from only three words, and yet I had so much more to say.

"I've been pulling away from everyone...thinking it would be easier...but believe me, pulling away from you hurt me more than you could imagine. I didn't mean any of the things I said yesterday, about letting me go...don't." I pleaded, "Because I don't want to let you go. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive husband, especially right now, being there for me even when I didn't want you to be. You've been incredible and I've just been such a bitch, and I'm just- I'm so sorry-"

The entire time I was talking, I watched as he bit his lower lip to try and keep himself together. But toward the end where my voice started to crack, he finally had enough and brought his hands up to my cheeks to wipe my tears.

"Shh," he shushed me, "It's okay, it's okay." he whispered before slowly bringing me into a hug, giving me a chance to pull away if I wanted, but that was far from what I wanted. I practically crashed into his arms and held onto him tightly like I never wanted to part from him again, but the truth was I didn't. I felt like I lost so much time with shutting myself out, yet he was the same perfect man that was always willing to wait. I didn't deserve him. I never did.

"Don't you ever say yer sorry bout that." he said a bit sternly, pulling back to look me in the eye, "Ya hear me?"

I nodded my head tearfully. "I know yer hurtin. I know why ya said the things ya said, or did the things ya did. Ya never have to explain yerself to me. M' always gonna be right here...didn't I promise ya that yesterday?"

I nodded again, "I- I just didn't want you to think that-"

"I know," he said softly, "I know, Rosie." he wiped more tears from my cheeks as he spoke in a hushed tone, "The only thing that hurt me these past few weeks was seein ya so broken. And the fact that I didn't know how to help, hurt me even more."

"I'm sorry." I repeated like a broken record.

He shook his head firmly, "Stop. Stop apologizin."

I exhaled a shuttering breath, nodding my head again, "I wanted you to know how much I didn't mean it. How much I wanted to take it back right after I said it."

"I know," he assured once more, "I won't hold it against ya...just wanna be able to be here for ya."

I shook my head slowly, "You have been. You've been so patient with me...you're perfect."

He scoffed, "I ain't perfect."

"You are to me." I stated almost firmly, wanting him to hear just how much I apricated him.

He smiled the biggest smile I had seen from him in a while, his eyes wrinkling at the corners as he leaned in to plant a brief kiss on my lips before bringing me into his embrace once more. It was like fireworks erupted in my stomach at the familiar feeling. He was always so gentle and loving, which only made me only pull him in closer. His hand traced soothing circles along my back whilst the other went up to my hair, running his fingers through my mess of curls. I missed his touch. I missed his warmth. I missed him.

He pulled back slightly after a few moments, peppering soft kisses across my skin as if he had been deprived, his beard tickling and scratching me to which I laughed into his shoulder. I heard a soft hum vibrate through his body, his arms squeezing me tighter.

"I missed that sound." he muttered quietly.

I felt my face flush a bit at the sincerity behind his voice, pulling my face back enough to look at him, "I missed you."

He tilted his head a bit, "I missed ya more, angel."

I smiled softly, pecking his lips once more before I snuggled into his side, letting out a breath of relief I felt I had been holding in for ages. His presence alone was something that I desperately needed, not knowing just how bad I needed it until I had it again.

We found ourselves talking amongst one another for what felt like forever as the morning slowly ticked by. There was simply too much to say, too much to fill in of the events that happened during the long and hopeless weeks. It felt like a breath of fresh air, having someone listen to you so intently when you could've sworn that these thoughts and feelings you brought up were pointless after feeling so small for so long.

Our voices didn't quiet down until we noticed almost everyone was slowly starting to wake now, knowing we would surely have to get a move on soon. My eyes looked around as they scattered, slowly packing their things and overhearing the hushed conversations, my gaze eventually catching sight of Rick. He was already looking toward me, his brows furrowed slightly in worry as if there was a silent question he was projecting across the space between us. I could read it clear as day.

My only response was a simple smile, assuring him that I was just fine. And that alone seemed to take some of the weight off his shoulders, nodding back toward me subtly, the exchange being for our eyes only.

But the peaceful moment was quickly cut shorter than I would've liked as the barn doors creaked loudly when they opened once more, my head tilting up a bit to see who entered the space. I assumed it was only Maggie and Sasha coming back inside considering how long they had been out. But what I didn't expect was to see a man trailing behind them, Daryl and I trading only one look before we both jumped up to our feet.

"Everyone...this is Aaron." Maggie announced.

The group perked up at the unfamiliar name, the sound of guns loading filling the air after her voice traveled around, finding myself instinctively aiming my weapon at the man as well.

I fell in line beside Rick while Daryl brushed past everyone else to look out the barn doors, sticking his head outside to glance around and make sure no one else lingered there from what he could see. I aimed my gun right at the man's head, but I didn't feel any type of fear, silently knowing I would kill him in a split second if he tried anything. My only question was why? Why the fuck did they bring him back here? Clearly, we had learned nothing from recent events.

"We met him outside, he's by himself." Maggie assured with raised hands.

"We took his weapons, and his gear." Sasha added.

I saw the two women gesturing and talking from the corner of my eye, but I never took my stare off the stranger in front of us. Everyone remained dead silent, watching as Daryl shut the wooden doors with a slam before swiftly turning around to pat him down, making sure he didn't have any hidden things under his clothes. Though in the end he didn't find anything, letting out a huff as he stepped back, watching him like a hawk. The man himself felt the tension in the room, his eyes looking all of us over a bit fearfully. Watching as he slowly became more intimidated.

"Hi," Aaron breathed, "It's nice to meet you." he greeted while attempting to take a step forward, only for Rick to send him a glare which ultimately kept him in place.

"You said he had a weapon?" Rick asked Maggie.

She nodded silently before stepping over towards him to hand over the small gun, Rick examining it in his hands for a moment before placing it behind his back, "Is there something you need?" he asked.

"He has a camp nearby. He wants us to audition for membership." Sasha informed.

I furrowed my brows, "Audition?" I asked in disbelief.

His head turned as soon as he heard me speak, "I- I wish there was another word for it. Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of a dance troupe...that's only on Friday nights." he attempted to joke, laughing lightly at his own words. But no one else followed, and he seemed to realize he was dealing with a pretty tough crowd.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, "And uh, it's not a camp. It's a community. And I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call, my job is to convince you all to follow me back home."

I couldn't shake the anxious feeling that formed in my stomach that this was an awful lot like when a murder tries to get a child to hop in his van because he said he had candy. The way he worded things wasn't very convincing to me. And Rick beginning to tense from beside me only caused my nerves to grow.

"I know, if I were you I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting into..." Aaron assured before looking behind him, "Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack?"

She stared at him for a moment before reaching down to pick up his bag from the ground, walking over to Rick and handing it over, "In the front pocket there's an envelope. There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community, that's why I brought those."

Rick opened it up, revealing the many pieces of paper inside that he easily started to look through. I dared to take my eyes off the man momentarily to glance over his shoulder to see what it was for myself, my eyes scanning multiple photographs of the community he was supposedly talking about. And he would not shut up.

"I apologize in advance for the picture quality, we just found an old camera store-"

"Nobody gives a shit." Daryl muttered.

Aaron looked over his shoulder at him with a nervous nod, "You're absolutely one hundred percent right." he spoke, my eyes still trained down to then see a picture of the front gates. "That's the first thing I wanted to show you. Because nothing I say about our community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us...you will be."

He kept going on and on about the thick walls and how nothing got through them without their say so, which was total bullshit. Even if nothing has gotten through thus far, it will. It always does.

I began to slowly tune out his voice while scanning each and every one of the images that Rick thumbed through, noticing the fact that he didn't seem to be listening to him either. The moment he hit the end of the somewhat endless pictures, he looked down at me, as if silently asking my opinion on what to do with this guy. I glanced back to see him still rambling, my mind racing as I thought of what answer to give.

I wasn't sure if we were ready to take another risk like this, and we sure as hell didn't have it in us to lose anyone else. I didn't want to deal with strangers, and judging by how big this place looked, there was going to be a lot of new people surrounding us constantly. I didn't want to go through it all over again.

My eyes panned back up to Rick's face, seeing him still waiting expectantly for any kind of indication of what I was thinking. I simply shook my head at him. And apparently that was the only answer he needed. He instantly turned to begin to walk up toward the man without a second thought, Aaron still seeming a bit unphased by the man approaching him in record speed. But before he could even blink, he fell back onto the ground harshly after Rick laid him on his ass with one single punch. It was then and only then I lowered my gun, seeing that he was passed out cold.

Everyone seemed utterly unphased with Rick's actions, except for Maggie and Sasha who quickly lowered themselves onto the ground next to him. The two looked him over carefully as they laid him down flat on his back, Daryl walking back over to search him once more just in case.

Michonne's voice sounded quietly from behind me, looking over my shoulder to see her slightly scolding Rick for what he did, seeming to believe the talk of the community. I couldn't blame her in the slightest for wanting to have hope, but everything he was spitting out almost seemed too good to be true. Rick's thoughts seemed to match mine as he didn't listen to her protests for very long, before his paranoia slipped through the cracks of the walls he attempted to build.

"We need eyes in every direction, they're coming for us." he announced, "We might not know how or when...but they are."

Maggie looked over at him in slight shock, "Sasha and I didn't even see him out there, if he wanted to hurt us he could've." she stated firmly.

But Rick ignored her, "Anyone see anything?"

"Just a lot of places to hide." Glenn muttered as he leaned further towards the small space in between the doors, squinting to try and see better into the distance.

I moved from my place, passing the few people in my way so I could come up next to him and see where he was looking. Rick demanded we keep an eye out with a slight panic in his voice and I did just that, scanning through the forest ahead of us to try and make out anything. Though I couldn't really see much from how far away we seemed to be, and who knows how many people he could potentially have out there with him.

"You see something I'm not?" Glenn asked in a hushed tone.

I shook my head, "No, nothing...we might actually have to go out there to try and find where his people are."

"If he has any people." he clarified.

My head turned to look at him, squinting my eyes a bit while I gestured to the man still lying a few feet from us, "You can't look me in the eye and honestly tell me that this man right here, is alone out there. The guy looks like a grown eagle scouts' member for Christ's sake."

He blinked at the accuracy before his eyes settled on the ground instead, his silence alone telling me I had a point. I huffed softly to myself while glancing back outside for another moment, only to hear the man behind me suddenly laugh a little as he slowly came to.

I whipped back around to face him again, pulling out my gun to aim at his head from behind before he had the chance to get up, earning a look of disapproval from Maggie. She slowly shook her head at my actions, but I just shook my head back at her, telling her I wasn't budging.

"That's a hell of a right cross there Rick." he complimented groggily as his eyes surely still felt heavy.

Rick gestured with his hand, "Sit him up."

Maggie and Michonne moved to his aid, grasping his arms to help him up as he responded, "You're being cautious... I completely understand-"

"How many of your people are out there?" Rick asked harshly. The man hesitated to answer. "You have a flare gun to signal your people, so how many of them are there?" he asked again.

Aaron sighed, "Does it matter?"

I scoffed, "What the hell do you mean does it matter? Of course it does."

His head snapped back towards me, the end of my gun now right between his eyes as he spoke again, "I- I mean, of course it matters how many people are actually out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there?"

My eyes narrowed at him, my patience thinning as he continued to speak, "Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say...eight, thirty-two, four hundred and forty-four, zero. No matter what I say you're not going to trust me."

"Well, it's hard to trust anybody who smiles after getting punched in the face." I pointed out as I loaded a bullet into the chamber.

He swallowed a bit thickly, "How about a guy who leaves bottles of water for you on the road?"

My heart stopped for a moment as I moved closer to press the gun up against the side of his head, causing him to laugh nervously, "How long you people been followin us?" my husband's voice cut through the thick silence.

Aaron glanced over at him, "Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail. Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water you never turned on each other. And long enough to see two people having a heart to heart after going through what seems like a whole lot." he finished, looking directly up to me.

His words only surprised be further, how much information he seemed to hold. But I didn't dare allow him to see how his words seemed to affect me. "You're survivors," he continued, "And you're people. Like I said- and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the most important resource in the world."

There was a long silence that followed and it seemed like we weren't getting many answers that we wanted, just answers that he wanted us to hear. I for one was getting sick of him rambling on and on, my frustration growing as I pressed the gun further into his temple to grab his attention.

When his eyes met mine, once again I asked, "How many others are out there?" my tone cold and demanding.

He sighed shakily before finally answering, "One."

I looked up instinctively to find Rick's face in the mix of the others, seeing him shaking his head at me as he copied my actions from earlier, telling me he didn't trust it one bit. Aaron looked between Rick and I, the wheels turning in his head at our silent conversation, "I knew you wouldn't believe me...if it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real?"

No one answered his question, but a lightbulb seemed to appear in his head and he sat up a little straighter, disregarding the gun I still had to his head, "What if I drove you to the community?"

"No." I said immediately.

"Hey," Rick said to get my attention and held his hand out to stop me from talking, "I'm not sure how the sixteen of us are going to fit in a car you and your one friend drove down here in."

"We drove separately." he stated, "If we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home, there's enough room for all of us."

"And you're parked just a couple miles away?" Carol asked.

"East on ridge road just after you hit Route 16." Aaron informed, "We wanted to get closer but then the storm came and blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

"Yeah, you've really thought this through." Rick muttered still in disbelief.

Aaron sighed, "Rick, if I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit...you can trust me." His eyes then moved back over to me, "And you don't have to keep a gun to my head, I won't try anything." he assured in a soft tone.

"Look at my face." I snapped.

His eyes immediately scanned my features, noticing his attention being drawn to the one thing I wanted him to see. What I wanted him to remember. I gestured towards the prominent scars, "This right here...is what happened the last time I let my guard down for a split second...so I think I'm good."

His eyes widened a little, but he didn't break eye contact as he slowly nodded, "Whatever makes you more comfortable."

His compassion threw me off a little, but I still didn't back down. I could feel everyone tense a little at the sensitive subject, and no one knew what to say next. Their minds were all racing on what to do, but I already knew my vote; we weren't going anywhere. None of us were ready to trust people again.

"I'll go check out the cars." Michonne announced, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence that fell.

"There aren't any cars." Rick spoke lowly.

"There's only one way to find out." she argued.

"We don't need to find out." he said quickly without missing a beat.

She took a step closer to him, "We do." she assured, a beat of silence passing before she continued, "You know what you know and you're sure of it...I'm not."

"Me neither." Maggie chimed in.

An unsettling feeling washed over me as I looked at the two of them in disbelief, slowly raising to my full height again and taking the gun away from Aaron's head in the process, "Hold on...have you guys forgotten the last time we tried to join a community, because I haven't."

The room was silent again as I continued to move forward towards them, "Hell, I wasn't even there and I remember how fucked up that shit was, what if this is the same thing? Do we really want to take that risk?"

"I would." Aaron piped in from behind me.

My face dropped as I turned around slowly again to face him, "Does it look like I was talking to you?"

His mouth clamped shut again, looking down toward the ground to avoid my eyes which caused a satisfied hum to escape me before I turned back to face the others. "All I'm staying is this is a big risk, and quite frankly I don't know if I'm willing to take it."

"No, we're doing this," Sasha argued, "We aren't going to let your one bad feeling ruin it for the rest of us...it's not our fault you have trust issues."

Her words cut through me like a knife as I instinctively stepped closer to her, but her hand flying towards her gun in her holster caused me to pause, my eyes traveling to it cautiously. I scoffed to myself as my eyes met hers again, continuing to slowly step closer to her, ignoring the protests of Rick from just behind my head. I didn't stop until I practically right in her face, tilting my head with narrowed eyes at the silent threat she had just made.

"Go ahead." I spoke.

She didn't meet my gaze, she simply couldn't because of her all bark no bite attitude, yet her hand didn't move either. I lowered my head a bit so she would finally look me in the eye and when I got her attention, I spoke again.

"Do it." I challenged.

I watched as her jaw clenched a few times before finally removing her hand and staying in place with her head hung low. She was really going to shoot me over a disagreement? Fuck this bitch.

I nodded my head with a scoff and backed away from her before I did something I regretted, feeling a hand on my shoulder turning me around. I came face to face with Rick as he tried to get my attention, clearly trying to prevent a fight from breaking out as he pulled me away from her.

"It wouldn't hurt to check out." Rick admitted quietly, his hand giving my shoulder a squeeze as if a silent plea not to freak out.

My eyes widened in shock, "You're kidding."

He shook his head, "If it's safe, we have nothing to worry about. We could send a group to check it out."

"And what happened to not believing this asshole five seconds ago?"

He sighed, "I'm thinking of Judith...and Carl...If this place is real and it's safe, the kids could have a life there...right?"

He knew damn well what he was doing by bringing the kids into this and it was working. Of course I knew that they both needed somewhere to grow up, not just the random shelter we found here and there, but an actual gated place. A safe place. One that they wouldn't have to be constantly watching their backs for the potential danger.

Which is the only reason why I found myself slowly nodding my head, "Okay...fine. But I'm going with that group to check the cars."

"Hell no you ain't." Daryl quickly stepped in upon hearing my assertiveness.

"I want to see for myself." I gently argued, "It'll help convince me that this is actually real...please."

He didn't get much of a chance to respond before Glenn spoke up, "I'll go too."

"Me too." Maggie offered.

I smiled at them in appreciation before looking over towards Abraham. As soon as we made eye contact, he nodded in agreement, "I'll walk with 'em." he stated while loading his gun.

Rick squeezing my shoulder caused me to look at him again, "Be safe." he said seriously.

"I will." I promised, pulling him in for a quick hug.

Once we broke away, I walked over to my bag to grab a few extra arrows, purposefully avoiding Daryl who clearly didn't like the fact that I was joining the others for the little quest. But I had all the badasses coming with me so I knew we would be fine no matter what happened. Though I knew he wouldn't let me leave without getting at least a few words in, and to no surprise, he was standing just behind me when I finally turned back around.

"Yes?" I asked sweetly, trying to butter him up at least a little.

He grumbled a little at my tone, "I don't like that yer goin out there..."

I sighed, "Yeah, well it's not up to you. Plus, I've always been able to handle myself fine, you know that better than anyone." I said as I adjusted the weapons on my frame.

He nodded, "I know...but that don't mean I gotta like it."

I smiled a little at him and stepped forward to leave a small kiss on his cheek, before pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and cradled the back of my head with one of his rough hands, kissing the side of it tenderly.

"Stay safe, ya hear me?" he muttered into my hair.

I nodded, "You too."

And just like that, we were off.

The small group we formed walked further and further away from the others in comfortable silence, taking the opportunity to let my mind wander a bit. I wanted to trust this guy. If I was being honest, he seemed genuine, and the pictures looked to be real. But then again people had become insanely dangerous, and risks were something that this group didn't do very often with every good reason you could imagine behind it.

I wanted this place to be real so badly but I almost didn't want to admit it out loud as if it would somehow jinx it. All of us deserved a safe place to rest our heads at night and eat a decent meal, but especially the kids. I wanted this place to be real for them. I wanted them to be able to grow up in a good environment, not one that was filled with fear. We had all been through so much, practically hell and back, that I felt we earned this.

Maybe this would be it. And I guess we were all about to find out.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist - @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit @silentlysurffering98 @mystictf @remuslittlesister

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon series #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead series #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #desert rose

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h3llh0und64 · 2 days ago

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TW: RAPE THROUGHOUT

While curlys approach was indeed not the greatest, I want to explore his other options. (This is mainly so I can know how to approach the situation if I was in anya or culys position.)

Given what we know pony Express sucks, curly would likely face consequences if he were to approach jimmy directly. Jimmy would most likely lat his anger out on Anya and make it worse and then curly would have to use force which could have curly lose his position as captain. I know "your position doesn't matter, someone got assaulted!", but it's still something to be taken into account. It's a risky move. Curly has no backup and we don't know how he lives and how much money he can risk to lose to then affect him negatively. I know it can be seen as selfish, but I don't think I'd be willing to go homeless for anybody. He couldn't exactly revoke jimmy of his co-pilot status since that was given by the company. Curly still should've stayed with Anya and attempted to support her more and maybe ask her what she'd like him to do since it is her situation and stepping in without being asked could make things worse. If curly were to opposes jimmy and tell him off, that could lead to Jimmy trying to do worse to Anya since she "snitched".

What curly could've done was use the company mandated gun.

Though this also has issues. When hearing about your friend doing something horrible, you're going to be skeptical and your feelings for someone don't exactly die in an instant. He would need some time to proccess and understand the situation as a whole before being able to bring himself to consider his options. Even so, we don't know if curly would have it in him to kill somebody or somebody he's known for ages so simply. If curly would falter or shake, jimmy could easily get the gun from him and instead use it on curly or Anya or the whole crew since he was indeed trying to kill everybody inside by crashing the ship to avoid the consequences of his horrible actions.

Curly could've just waited to get back to report Jimmy and silently stay with Anya to help and protect her in silence because anya and curly are already friends. They are trapped in a metal cage in space. Anya has no safe escape, so putting a target on her back by talking to Jimmy about what happened could make things worse for her. And we know that none of the rooms have locks so it's not like she could lick herself away from him.

Still, curlys approach of "we'll fix it" was not a good one.

This is vaguely based on my own experience.

In highschool I was in a mainly male dominant class and heard a few rape jokes that made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. I thought about my options and ended up nlt reporting them for the sake of my own safety. If the teacher were to slip and say I was the one who reported it, I could've gotten hurt or worse since I "snitched" to the teacher.

Thank you for reading this and please feel free to give me your interpretations and ideas. I would love to have more variables and expand my views on this topic!

#mouthwashing #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing anya

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softness-and-shattering · 2 days ago

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I kind of get how it can be a trauma response, to lash out at anything that feels safe or comfortable because its unusual which makes it scary.

You're allowed to be safe though. You dont have to antagonise everyone who might be your ally to drive us away before we can hurt you. Most of us, many of us - i dont have statistics on this - dont want to hurt you and do our best to avoid it.

Womanhood is not defined by suffering. Transness is not defined by suffering. Its an aspect, sure, just as suffering is an aspect of being human. But its not the point. Its not necessary, its not the foundation stone. You dont have to cling to it. Let it go.

Idk if anyone who needs to hear this has got this far but just in case. Acting like a walking trauma reaction is hurting everyone. Its possible to heal. Dont you want to heal? Arent you exhausted? Take a tiny little chance that it might be safer than you thought and put your shit down. Or open some space and think about what it is you like about being trans, about being a woman, of holding any identity that you find painful. What draws you to it? What do you want it to look like?

Ill go first. I love my voice. When it started properly breaking my first feeling was relief. I get to sound warm and rumbly and comforting now. Is that what I like about being trans or about being a guy? Idk, both maybe. I like that I get to define things for myself outside of imposed expectations. Ok your turn. Name one thing. Start building a sense of self around joy and contentment or at the very least, not pain. Start building yourself into someone who wants to live and can enjoy living. Its always possible.

And yeah maybe Im shouting compassion into the void but I hope someone somewhere is listening, that I might influence them a tiny bit make their life a little better. If someone is plain nasty to me I wont engage.

And yes people who are so caught up in their fear and pain and making up lies where theyre the victim - on the one hand, its a defence mechanism, I get it. On the other hand, its hurtful, and its extremely rude and also ludicrous. Like who is this crowd of cis women running to transmasc's defence everywhere? Cis women are weird and entitled with us. They know they have cis privilege over us. They act like the fact we started as the same sex gives them rights to be invasive "because we're all just girls". Cis women are less privileged than cis men but theyre second on that food chain, theyre cis. And sometimes they enjoy holding power over someone else for a change.

Which is to say, if youre lashing out at everyone because youre scared, you need to get yourself under control. Youre hurting people who dont deserve it. You need help, in the most genuine of meanings. You need to be able to function healthily as part of society, and yes theres a lot of transphobes out there, but most people dont carr one way or the other. Your overwhelming fear is not of equal size to the danger, which does exist, but is not all-encompassing of everything forever.

For everyones sake including your own: life can be better. Please work towards it being better. Get your shit together and let yourself be helped.

you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

#like. yeah.#its fragility #obv mot everyone can access therapy and stuff #trauma.isnt a get out of responsibility free card its just more.mandatory.homework #yeah it sucks its trauma #but the outcome of doing the work is you get to be happy and have a decent life #op yeah this is aggressive but youre also not wrong #comment #ugh do I want to delete/not posy #i already wrote it all so. ill just prrpare to maybe block people

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ikkan · 1 year ago

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of course my mom is trying to guilt me into staying, by using her tears 😑

#.txt #i don’t care anymore #this has been my whole life #she cries and i have to take the abuse because i have to be the bigger person #i’m done doing that #i refuse to sacrifice my mental health and sanity for others #i am no longer being the ‘bigger person’#i am not keeping the peace to please others and make them comfortable #this is just a big middle finger to me and my healing path #i WANT to heal and she won’t let with keeping me in this house #and not letting me break this cycle of toxicity #i want to finally be free #i wanna stop being in survival mode #i want to be able to feel safe in my OWN space #i want to be able to love myself #i want to heal and possibly be a mother #i don’t want my child to suffer like me #no child deserves that #i didn’t deserve it #this should’ve never been okay #why was i not protected when i was supposed to be #i deserve a healthy and safe environment/life

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gay-fordeath · 3 months ago

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#dont call anyone im safe im fine im just venting. tw for suicide/self harm/kind of intense language. ideally no ones reading this tho #bro i cant keep living like this #i dread waking up every day so much that i dread even falling asleep #i got insomnia medication in my system and my brain is still like nope absolutely not #i cant keep up at my job even when i am rested enough #i get headaches every other day #my instant mental reaction in the face of stress is to hurt myself (i have not)#like fuck. i work for the disability department of an insurance company #i know for a fact that (probably) every contract stipulates we wont cover disabilities as a result of self inflicted injuries #which is supposed to prevent ppl from taking advantage of the system or whatever #and im always like if someone goes to the lengths of actively injuring themselves to the point of disability #in the name of 'getting out of work'#that person is not 'taking advantage of the system' THAT PERSON IS FUCKING MENTALLY ILL #AND I WOULD KNOW BC I AM ONE OF THOSE PPL #do not come for me on some shit about wanting to disable yourself being morally questionable i cant be concerned abt that rn #i gotta focus on the fact that i hate my life so much id rather break my own right hand than continue it #its an improvement from the active suicidal ideation but its still a symptom of the passive ideation #fucking hell. im too self aware so i absolutely feel like im faking it or making shit up so i can be lazy and not work and whatever #but FUCKING CHRIST theres no way. if i had a choice i wouldnt let myself feel like this.#i just got to a point where i can live alone and support myself. i was so happy and so proud of myself. I don't want to lose that #but god every phone call i have to make for work makes me want to hurt myself. every early morning (and there arent many!!! i mostly work #from home!!!) makes me wish i was dead. i have to sleep for hours after work more often than not. i cant really maintain my living space #theres fucking. mold and discoloration and shit on a bunch of my clothes and some of my bags and shit!!#cause i cant fucking keep my room clean and my basement apartment got fucking humid over the summer and so much moisture got trapped #i constantly have dirty dishes getting moldy before i get to them #i just dont have the fucking energy. i want to take better care of my space. i want to be more social. i just want to go to sleep without #fucking dreading waking up. i wanna go a full week without a headache. i want my stress response to be something other than the intense and #overwhelming desire to cut myself. if i start again i dont know if ill be able to stop and i know i wont be able to keep it to my arms/legs/#easily hidden parts of my body. last breakdown i escalated to my face and i know ill pick up from there.#fuck

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rosicheeks · 3 months ago

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I get mad about Fb posts too!! I struggle with being jealous of others and it makes me hate myself. I wish I wasn't like this lol

I relate to this so much omg

#I’ve been struggling a looooot with jealousy and being envious #I think it’s just hard to see people I know thriving when I’m trying so hard to simply survive #I haven’t been able to go over to my sisters new place cause I’m just too jealous #and I HATE it cause I want to be happy for them #it’s a big thing to get a place or get married or have a baby or whatever #that’s huge and if it’s someone I know and love I want to be happy for them #but I can’t help but also look at myself and my own life #and get incredibly sad and upset that this is how my life is turning out #I wanted to do so many things with my life #but this stupid mental illness is fucking everything up #I’m just so so so sick of it #I want to live a normal life like other people I know #I went over to a new friends place and I’m still thinking about it #she’s depressed and struggling with chronic illnesses like I am #but she got married a few years ago and the husband is helping so much #they have this beautiful townhouse that I would KILL for #and they have a golden retriever #and it’s just so hard to see someone who is struggling like I am but still has all of these things #I’d fucking kill for a pet or a place of my own #I’m so SO sick of living here and not having a safe space I can go to when I need to be by myself #just having my car is such a shitty feeling #but I know I’m privileged I have a roof over my head and I have a car I can run to #I just wish I was in her position or everyone else who is in a better position/situation than I am #and I know I know it’s not all black and white I’m sure there are struggles behind the camera that I’m not seeing #but it’s still the fact that they have a place to go to or they have a dog to be with and get comfort from #it’s just so fucking hard #I can’t help compare my life to theirs every single time I see a happy post #and don’t even get me started on how much I spiral when I see they are younger than me and doing better than I am #ooooooh boy #ask

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depresseddepot · 5 months ago

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god I cannot fucking wait to get out of here !

#i want to be the one in charge of what i eat. i want to be in a place where my parents can't say ''oh i dont like that so you can't eat it''#i want to experiment with different recipes and not have my mom look at me like she's a high school bully again #i want to decorate my space and clean it the way that works for me #i want my cats to stop smelling like cigarette smoke #i want to live on PURPOSE #i want to make mistakes and fail without my biggest fear being the way my parents will look at me during #i want to make cookies and have them turn out terribly and laugh about it instead of crying because my mom said ''i told you so''#i want to LEARN. i want to have space to teach myself the things they refuse to teach me #i want to be able to try different outfits without planning my day around dodging my parents so they won't see and laugh at me #i want to do housework and exercise without having to triple check that all of my curtains are closed #i want to be relaxed in my home all hours of the day and not just the hours they are asleep #i want to live on PURPOSE for fucks sake #i want to be sincere and genuine and an airhead #i have managed to stop caring about everyone's opinions EXCEPT my parents #i want to get tf out of here. i want to feel safe in my own home #and I wish rent wasn't so fucking high that i have to wait a year and a half to move out!!!!!@#i am going to make it out of this house if it fucking kills me #i want to be in a space where my own reassurance and motivation is not squashed by my parents ridiculing me #i want to get away from this fucking family

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strohller27 · 1 year ago

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#i’ve been working through some stuff in my head #and I’ve realised that so much of my life I’ve occupied the spaces in-between #like I acheived certain things in my life because I was literally the only one who stepped up #but it was also like. I wasn’t the first choice for something I was always just what was available #or I tried to carve out something for myself and it ended up either being taken away from me or getting ruined somehow #like when I was in the pipe band I became drum major because I was literally the only drummer (not that anyone really liked me…#i was just. the only choice there was until someone else came along).#or when I moved up the ladder at the tutoring service it was during Covid and I had to work so much harder because #we just didn’t have a full team.#or when I had to do my undergraduate thesis by myself because also covid #and now having to do my research project basically 100% by myself because my advisor ‘‘can’t’’ advise me #(except he can apparently write me some exam questions next semester)#idk I just feel like the extra frozen water on the side of the ice cube tray of life #and now I’m in Canada and I’m trying to make a place for myself #I want this to work out. I want to be able to solidify the life that I want without having to live on the fucking edge #I’m tired of staying in my ‘lane’ when my ‘lane’ has always been ‘standing on the side to let others pass’#Listen up queers I am allowed to take up space and I am occupying this part of the lane #if you don’t like it then you can make your own fucking lane #I’m just trying to make a life in this ridiculous precarious world I don’t want to have to play it safe anymore #I want to get into a PhD programme and study what I want to study #I want to meet someone I can trust with myself when I’m fragile and someone who trusts me with themself when they’re fragile #I want to live in a house I don’t have to worry about losing and make enough money to live comfortably #I want to stop merely surviving and start *living*#and I’m going to do everything in my power to achieve that

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nature-played-a-trick-on-me · 2 years ago

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btw my neighbour decided to bang on the building’s downstairs windows at 1.30 AM when I was almost asleep and terrified me half to death. i heard talking outside so i opened my window in hopes of finding out what the hell was going on and then i was met with a HI. that was not from someone who would tell me what was going on so i promptly shut the window. TERRIFIED even more and i was becoming scared that the dude had stalked me was having an episode and coming for me

u know what it was. my upstairs neighbour couldnt find his cat. i have NO IDEA why youd start banging on windows. id understand panic but theres literally a number he can call and someone would go and help him. bro i get it we all have issues but you could like not terrify everyone maybe. like i could even understand you trashing your own place in a breakdown but please dont go walking around absolutely terrifying everyone

#ive lived in places like this since 2017...... everyone has their shit but like #if u cant stay inside ur own spaces when youre in a state like that.... theres a safety problem imo #like do whatever u want in ur own place. like i feel ya feeling horrible and unable to cope but on god the basis for a safe house for all?#staying in ur own goddamn place #i had a housemate who raged in our living room and broke his headphones in half and then proceeded to sit FUMING on the sofa #while i and another housemate were cleaning the kitchen #we looked at eachother like :0 and then got the hell out #like if hed gone to his room after raging at first... id be like man he is not doing well and id have sympathy eben #but this?! terrifying #and he was the one who ended up assualting and beating up my friend #after stalking me and threatening suicide if i wouldnt date him #i salute you. not being able to leave to decompress is A BAD SIGN

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daydreamerdrew · 2 years ago

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The Defenders (1972) #74

#oh my baby 😭#I’m so glad that he has the Defenders and Kyle’s Riding Academy #I really feel that the Defenders as a non-team works really well for the Hulk in a way that a traditional formal superhero team wouldn’t #like he’s someone that feels a lot of intense emotions and can get overwhelmed easily #and he needs his space in order to calm down and/or process things #particularly because more so than most people he needs more time and a quiet environment to really think things through #I remember last issue all the girls were gonna hang out and listen to music and the Hulk was invited to participate in that too #but he didn’t want to listen to noise and went to sit outside in the quiet instead #where he grumbled and was confused and thought about how he didn’t think he needed friends but then why did being away from his friends hurt #and because his friends are chill and get him they weren’t bothered by him not participating and didn’t try to pressure him to stay #whereas if they had then the Hulk would have gotten upset about being told what to do and overwhelmed by the noise #and at the very least would have said hurtful things to his friends #like the Riding Academy is a safe space for the Hulk and one he sorely needs #but it’s also not a place he’s in any way confined to #whereas a more traditional team might do more to keep track of the Hulk’s whereabouts and maybe try to keep him within their space/control #the Hulk has grown so much through his time with the Defenders #and that’s only been able to happen because he’s a part of the team on his own terms #marvel #bruce banner #patsy walker #my posts #comic panels

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nomairuins · 3 months ago

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and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

#im not smart or talented or hot enough to have a source of income working from home.#i dont have a ged or a kicense or a way to get to work or much experience + ive got a steadily fucking growing gap in my employment history.#And i have essentially 0 social skills i barely Function half the time im dissociated or just crying. im weak and out of shape and #not pretty im like. unhireable i think . and again even if a place did hire me I dont have a way to fucking get 2 work #i might be able to walk 2 a place if i had been at work for a while bc if be more used to being on my feet and active again. its take a #while and id be in a Lot of pain but like. itd be doable. and once i worked for s bit i could get lyfts even tho Expensive also idk that #there as many drivers here. and wtvr. but if i did that itd be Less money to help my family and less money to save up toget my own place and #atp maybe its selfish of me to want my own place and i need to judt be more grateful im allowed 2 stay here . yk #idk. im so tired i just need like. idk. ik the only way is to just get through it and get a job and make it work but it feels so pointless #everything always does. i cant keep getting over hurdles man im so fucking tired of getting through hurdles #every single day is Difficult and every single day is the Same and any time j manage to have a good day ill just go right back to feeling #exactly the same. and even if it looks like everythings better for a bit it all goes back down eventually and ik im supposed to be like But #itll get better again after that <3 ups and downs are a part of life <3 we have to have the bad to appreciate the good <3 im just fucking #sick of the goddamn bad im fucking sick of it ive had enough bad i want good. ik other ppl deserve it more i want everybody to have good #days and be safe and happy i don't want things to keep getting worse but everything just gets worse and all the good parts r tempirary and #im so tired. I am not your strongest soldier bro !!!#idk. i just want to be atable i dont need anything crazy i just want my family to live comfortably and to have enough money that i can #donate i rly donot need much i dont need that much food 2 survive i dont need a ton of space i dont need a nide house i like. i just want to #be Stable and know that everything will be ok. yk. at least 4 my family i want them all to be able to eat and the bills 2 be paid and #hopefully for lamp and the kids 2 go to college. bc lamp and tag both want to go to college and itsy is 6 so he soesnt care #but i want them to be able to so bad bc i can't and i ws never gonna be able to and i dont get to be whiny abt that but like. they want to #and theyre smart and passionate and like. i want them to be able to achieve their dreams and get to have normal lives and be fulfilled and #happy. yk. idk. annie showed me her schoolwork the other day and since it wa first week at like. an alt school it ws a lot of personality #type stuff and mental health stuff and im not gonna get into it bc its not mine to tell but. their answers for one of the things made me so #upset bc it sounded so much like me when i was their age and even now and it makes me feel so guilty that like. i didnt make it better for #them. im the one whos supposed to endure it and then theyre supposed to get to be happy but im too fuckinf weak nowadays and i can't keep #any of them safe or happy and i feel so insanely useless. i hate it i just want to be useful idc anymore like. i want to be good i want to #be helpful i want to be cared abt and its so selfish bc a part of me is like. Ohh wahhh we shouldnr have to do all that to be cared abt wahh #and its dumb bc Yes i do its my job. it just fucking sucks rn bc like i have all the like. sorrow over this being what i have to do and this #is my lot in life but i also have all the guilt over how im not doing it bc km lazy and selfish and i cant just work bc im . Ugh

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talkorsomething · 6 months ago

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The whole "go to sleep -> think about sh" thing is still happening. I know nobody was wondering, but it's bugging me. My blog anyways.

...

Well, we've gone too far past the "don't sh" territory that i don't think i actually ate all day.

(Owing to the shortness. No brain power probably and also i'm tired.)

And still. Without fail. The thought is there.

#100% секретный дневник левы НЕ ЧИТАЙ #ed tw #sh tw #i dont think i'm adjusting well actually #every stupid little thing sets me off and its not even about me !!!#it's like i keep swinging between 'able to enjoy things like hobbies again' and just ... whatever this is.#it's not like ... look i exaggerate a lot ok. this is not moodswings. thats all. i'm fairly normal all things considered.#anyways i dont know !!!!!!!!!!!! what 2 do!!!!!!!!!#it took me all of guard season before i started really feeling comfortable with guard friends #but with this it's like... i guess i feel like i should know him already. and be ok with everything #well. i dont and i am not. i still feel trapped in the space i've been given.#and i dont get the impression that i'm wanted here really. more like i constantly feel like an intruder [...in my own house]#and it is NOT helping the 'executive functioning'(?) anxiety dysregulation either. i thought i was getting better but i guess today #proved me wrong in that regard. i don't remember what to liken it to.#i don't know. i was cursed with the ability to hear and it's stressing me out.#as always it comes back to being a little *too* self aware...#i know if everything was perfect it wouldnt be life or whatever but god i just want a place where i feel like i'm *safe*#take that how you will if you want.#what i mean by it is i'm tired of getting stuck because i'm scared of making a noise.#& im goddamn tired of being forced into the closet because of 1) of my circumstances (legally i cannot say)#2) the amount of anxiety i get over trying to (re-)come out to someone i KNOW isn't going to judge me in literally any way #well. i made my kofi page anyways. so maybe if i play my cards right top surgery will happen. i hope to fucking god it does >:[

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gutsby · 7 months ago

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Diehard

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Erectile dysfunction. Daddy kink. Praise kink if you squint. Overstimulation. Cumplay. She/her pussy pronouns. Pushing physical limits with a pre-negotiated safe word in place for it.

Note: No more limp dick erasure. We die like [old] men.

Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse | Word count: 986

Joel just wanted to prove he could fuck like he used to.

He didn’t think he’d almost kill you in the process.

“JOEL!” you screeched, heels digging deep in the mattress as your climax came in seismic waves.

The stimulation was insane. Normally the much-older man would have been down for the count after two—and usually one—big O, but now his chest was heaving, hips relentlessly beating a punishing pace against your own.

Your walls were slick with not only your cum but his, milky ropes of his arousal making for an obscene set of sounds every time his dick slid in and out of your cunt. You could feel his balls tighten and twitch with every forthcoming spurt of him, practically reeling with the pulse of each new sticky gift inside you. His groans rumbled low, but the power and pleasure and outright primal fervor they conveyed were unmistakeable. You had to look down, feebly, to believe it yourself—Joel never fucked his way through your orgasm and his.

Then you felt a palm slide up the back of your head, and Joel held it up to make sure you watched him fuck you.

“J-Joel,” you whimpered, watching his girth disappear and reappear at least a half-dozen times as you did.

“Just a little more, honey,” he murmured against your forehead. The smack of each thrust was dizzying, “Want my pretty girl nice and full’a me before she leaves, okay?”

Joel never could let you head back to college without a few of his loads and a head full of filthy memories—something to hold you over until your next visit home. You would’ve liked to mumble back, ‘Okay,’ but then your pussy clenched around him, and his thrusts grew faster.

“My sweet girl,” he grinned, “She likes that, huh?”

You could scarcely manage a nod. The weight of your head was held fully by him, and if that wasn’t indicative enough of your fucked-out state, your face surely said the rest. When Joel leaned back to adjust the angle of his thrusts, he caught sight of your hooded, glossy stare and almost came all over again. He slowed his pace for once.

Then he dipped a finger between your body and his, just long enough to douse the tip of his digit with cum. He bottomed out inside you, watched you part your lips in a gentle gasp, and pressed his touch to that open space.

It was almost like you didn’t have the strength to suck. You just let him smear the sticky stuff along your lower lip, gaze plastered to his. Then Joel’s cock sank deeper.

“O-ow!” you whined, partly reanimated by the stretch.

“You can take it,” Joel grunted.

The double entendre wasn’t lost on you. You could, and would, take his finger and his cock inside. You suckled dumbly on the cum-drenched fingertip in assent.

But when Joel’s finger popped out of your mouth and his thrusts picked back up, you weren’t entirely convinced you would be able to hold up the second half of that deal.

It wasn’t fair. He took one magic pill, and poof, his dick stayed hard for half the fucking day. You had nothing but your youth and two shaking legs to ensure your survival. When Joel worked his cock back and forth a couple more times and it seemed your body was about ready to scream, you took hold of his biceps and squeezed tight.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

The tip of his cock nicked a soft ridge inside you, and you jolted back. Joel’s palm was still pressed to your head, holding you to him, and his hips had you pinned as well.

Instead of answering, you whimpered.

You didn’t want him to stop, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any more. Your eyes met his, pleading.

“Can’t what?” Joel pressed, a little more sternly.

Another whimper. Inside, Joel’s cock was rubbing that pleasure point raw, and you felt another climax coming.

“Use your words.”

“Too— too—”

Each new thrust was sending stars before your eyes. Joel was one sick man if he tried to make you talk while he fucked you past the point of all intelligible speech.

“Too what? Tell me, baby.”

You’d get that fucker back someday. Joel just grinned.

“Too much,” you hissed when his hips delivered another mind-numbing push. Then, feeling pleasure threaten to peak at almost a painful degree, “Toomuchtoomucht—”

Joel continued thrusting, knowing damn well you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop. As if to underscore this point, he tipped your head back and made you hold his gaze, features creased with a frown.

“That sure don’t sound like the safe word to me.”

It wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. He didn’t need to tell you twice, or even breathe a second word besides. With one more brush of Joel’s thick, throbbing, implausibly hard cock, he sent you over the edge and into your fourth orgasm of the morning, hitting that spot again and again.

And again.

Just like before, Joel fucked you through each wave, catching your lips this time to stifle your cries. You might’ve gone blind for a second or two, but that was alright; the pleasure, proximity, and then the sweet, erratic pulse of his cock sending rope after rope of his cum deep inside made the overstimulation worthwhile.

Your body went limp against the bed, held tight in Joel’s grasp, when you felt that sickly sweet dichotomy of soft, tender touches and a cock lodged between your walls that was as hard as it had ever been. Still trying to console you with kisses, still trying to warm you up for another round, perhaps, Joel almost laughed out loud in your mouth when you groaned into his and whispered:

“Please don’t ever take that fucking pill again.”

#SOMETIMES I WRITE THIS MIDDLE-AGED MAN LIKE HE’S 25 AND JUST NEED TO SHUT THE F*CK UP #*brittany broski voice* BE REALISTIC!!!!!!!#BE F*CKING FOR REAL #FOR A SECOND BE FOR REAL #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

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honey-tongued-devil · 28 days ago

Text

↞[arcane preference] founding out you were injured in crossfire↠

Since I've created a Bluesky profile and wrote my thesis on Arcane, I'll be posting both old and new drawings there as soon as the time comes. I'm taking advantage of this little space to promote my other social account. honey-tongued.bsky.social Also, I've received both comments and requests, but Tumblr decided I couldn’t post for a week (my internet connection is terrible). I want to let you know that I appreciate them, and I'll get to everything as soon as I can. So, feel free to leave comments, feedback, or requests!

Jayce:

- This is the worst news he could receive: he's a scholar, he has no idea how to handle these situations, and, most of all, he's forced to confront his pride.

- Not only was he unable to protect you now, but what if it happens again? Even if he's there, he wouldn't know what to do.

- What if there's a next time? What if it doesn't turn out as well next time?

- His self-sabotage leads him to distance himself from you for a few days, not because he doesn't want to be near you while you're hurting, but because he's ashamed of not being able to protect the person he loves.

- On the bright side, for even just a second, he remembers the original purpose of his research: making the city safe, helping people.

- But on the negative side, with no one to blame, more than ever, the people of Zaun appear to him as beasts, second-class humans who can't be redeemed in any way.

- When he finally gathers the courage to see you again, he tries to make amends for everything: for not protecting you, for not being able to, for allowing someone to hurt you, and for not being there during your recovery.

- He'll literally do anything to be forgiven: every morning you'll find breakfast in bed, if it's cold at night he'll prepare a warmer for your feet, and despite his squeamishness, he'll personally tend to your wounds, even if it makes him feel queasy.

Viktor:

- He tries to help you in every way possible, even ignoring his own pain.

- He feels sadness, regrets that you went out alone and ended up in such a situation. He can't help but imagine the fear you must have felt, the confusion, and the loneliness when the guards intervened, and you woke up alone in the hospital.

- He may be a scholar, but first and foremost he's a man with a moral code, and secondly, he's from Zaun: if he has any work, appointments, or lectures, he'll skip them all, maybe muttering a few insults in his thick accent at the most insistent people, and make up for it at night.

- Plans, ideas, codes, anything – but he won't leave you alone unless you ask him to.

- He takes care of you meticulously, respecting schedules, bringing you meals in bed, changing your bandages until your skin heals, and you're able to stand on your own again.

- He doesn't mind helping you – as a chronically ill person who refuses others' help, he's learned to do everything on his own, and he's almost happy that his skills can be useful to someone else.

Ekko:

- Is it something totally normal in the lanes? Yes.

- Does this stop Ekko from panicking? No.

- He's the one who finds you and brings you to the others, but he doesn't want, nor can he afford, to be seen panicking. So, he swallows his despair and tries to act as normal as possible while ten other people rush to help you.

- His face remains expressionless as the most skilled remove debris, clean the wound, stitch your torn flesh, and bandage you, but his foot keeps tapping the floor with force and speed, revealing his anxiety.

- When the others insist that it's best you stay in the makeshift infirmary, he tries not to protest, but suddenly every moment of the day becomes an excuse to pass by: to bring you stolen sweets from Piltover, to tell you about some expedition, maybe even steal a kiss or fall asleep leaning against your mattress.

- It's an overwhelming fear, but the fear of losing you makes him unable to think rationally, and all he feels is how much he misses you, even while you're right there with him.

Vander:

- A crossfire from the other side of the river was already a big enough provocation to alert him and prepare to defend the city or, if absolutely necessary, to strike back.

- But you, as an accidental victim, are a huge problem.

- He doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, and when he does, he can’t help but feel frustrated, angry at himself, knowing he hasn’t been able to keep his city under control like he promised—to you, to Piltover, to everyone.

- He’ll ask for your forgiveness by kissing the scarred skin every day, even if you insist it’s not his fault, and if you remember even one of the faces, he’ll go and handle the problem.

- Not with violence, unless necessary, but it’s not about personal justice; rather, it’s about protecting the other citizens of the alleys too.

- Even after you’ve healed, he’ll insist it’s absolutely necessary to carry you everywhere you need to go, claiming a very good doctor told him so.

- And the memory of the scar will be tiny compared to all the marks Vander has left on you.

Silco:

- Private justice is absolutely the first option, even though you were an accidental victim.

- He’ll call all his goons and associates for a meeting while you’re still bedridden, to see if they’ve heard, seen, or been involved in any armed conflict, and if he doesn’t get a face or a name from them, he’ll turn to the brothel, the house of all information,

- Until he finds who hurt you and makes sure they can’t do it again.

- Silco isn’t fazed by blood or open wounds, but despite having enough experience to handle it himself, at least on the first day, he’ll take you to Singed to make sure you’re in the best condition.

- In the following days, he’ll take care of you himself, but he has pride, a façade, and little emotional communication skills, so he won’t openly show how worried he is, relying entirely on the fact that you don’t know about the murder of your assailant and remember nothing of the visit to Singed.

- But the only reason you heal so well and so quickly is that, even if he doesn’t know how to express it, all the love he feels is poured into the care he gives you.

Jinx:

- Flashbacks. So many. Too many.

- At some point, she’ll even convince herself that she’s the one who shot you, leading to a complete breakdown.

- She punches her head, scratches herself without realizing it, her nose bleeds, and her eyes are bloodshot.

- It takes her a while to convince herself that she wasn’t the one who shot you, even though the hallucinations overlap images of you with memories of her armed, creating waking nightmares that feel increasingly real.

- As much as she’d like to ask her father for help, even just to give you a cleaner room, she feels responsible and is too scared that if she stays away from you, you’ll forget her. That’s why she sets up a little space for you and takes care of you herself, though not always painlessly.

- She’s pulled bullets out of her own body more times than not after missions; what might seem like dangerous, delicate work to someone else is almost routine for her by now.

- Once she has a suspicion of who might have done it, she’ll make sure they learn their lesson.

Vi:

- Anger.

- Why were you out alone? Why didn’t you leave as soon as you saw the crowd getting too big? Why were you in that area?

- But her anger is just panic pouring out like a flood, the fear of not being able to protect the one she loves twists her stomach, making her feel like she might throw up, like she’s dying inside.

- None of those questions mean she blames you, but she doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or even what to do.

- She’ll do everything to help you—bandaging you, cleaning your wounds, staying silent and giving her full attention to make up for not being there when you needed her, even though that’s not true.

- And when the scar forms, she’ll kiss it every single day, every single night, like a little ritual between the two of you.

Caitlyn:

- Safety first.

- She’ll be the one to assess how bad the injury is, and if there are any foreign objects in your body, there’s a good chance she’ll try to handle it herself, even though at first it might seem a bit barbaric.

- She’ll give you the guest room and call the family doctor to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t need anything else, and she’ll take care of what’s necessary, even teasing you a bit to hide her worry.

- "A bullet in the leg from being caught in crossfire? Very vintage, I must say."

- What you won’t know is that she’ll quietly increase security, not in an oppressive way, but just enough to make both you and the other citizens feel safer.

- Her family won’t get involved directly, but they won’t stop her either. Sometimes Cassandra herself will make sure her daughter finds the tray to bring up to you, though she’ll never be too open about it.

- The perfect rehabilitation? Long walks in the villa’s garden, so you can stop for some cookies or tea when you get tired.

Mel:

- Flashbacks, but less personal than Jinx’s.

- Her mother would call her weak if she knew how it kills her to see someone barely scratched by crossfire, and that realization soon turns into frustration, which then becomes anger.

- She tries to stay calm, but her voice sounds like she’s scolding you, and then like she’s scolding the servants, or anyone else who crosses her path.

- Two hours of lecture if you’re lucky—why you shouldn’t go out without a guard, why you shouldn’t put yourself in dangerous situations, why the enforcers are utterly useless and can’t find anyone responsible, even though the fight was so intense.

- She’ll focus entirely on the bureaucratic side because little Mel was never taught how to deal with strong emotions, and she’s definitely feeling them now but can’t afford that vulnerability, even though she knows you’re safe.

- She won’t take care of you herself, but she’ll always stay in the room. Not because she doesn’t want to, to be clear, but because she wants you to have the best care possible and prefers to leave it to a top professional rather than her inexperienced hands.

- In return, she’ll triple the amount of affection and caresses—more to calm herself than you, but you won’t be the one to complain.

Sevika:

- She needs a moment.

- She knows she has to report to Silco that there was a firefight, that someone is threatening the people, but part of her just wants to grab those responsible and crush their heads with her bare hands, doing both you and her boss a favor. Yet, another part of her doesn’t want to leave you alone or take you with her.

- She knows how to handle these things; she’s lost an arm, and Silco’s goons often come back in worse shape, which is why she’ll take care of you herself, in complete silence.

- She’ll wait until you’re asleep to place a water bottle, a glass, some painkillers, and some bread on the nightstand next to your bed. And when she’s sure you’re fully asleep, she’ll leave a soft kiss on your forehead before putting on her cloak and heading out to the Last Drop.

- There, she’ll release her anger in a brawl or two, talk to her boss, and search for the reason why she feels so awful at the bottom of her third glass of whiskey.

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