#i’m fucking miserable i’m so sick of this shit i hate everyone i hate everything i am being a whiny loser edgelord but no i’m not i fucking

[corpus-incorporated]

it’s amazing how you’ll have a mixed episode with bipolar and it’s not even anywhere near close to the worst one you had and you still wish you could kill everyone in the world and yourself

[prettyboysmlm]

don’t you just love it when your musical elective of choice makes you want to kys :)))))))))))))

[milo-is-rambling]

How do me and my mother manage to get into a fight every fucking day I want to dieeeeee how have we fought about bullshit and it’s not even ten in the morning like what the fuck I’m so fucking miserable and no one likes me they all make fun of me I need to move out or I’m going to fucking ruin my life !!!!! (Also why won’t my fucking period just start so I can get all of these emotions to stop bothering me!!!)

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 8 (Final)

A Red, Red Rose

Summary: A bombshell is dropped and you look to the future. Words: 2k TWs: mention of miscarriage

So I've lost interest in this fic hence why we have a rushed wrap up because I didn't just want to abandon it :') All parts - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“We gonna do this forever then Johnny?”

It was a form of torture Simon was sure, them having lunch together once a week every week and making small talk. He missed his best friend. He missed being able to say something outrageous and knowing Johnny would call him a sick bastard and then immediately try to outdo him.

“Eat lunch?” Johnny replied a little miserably, shuffling pasta about his plate.

“Johnny…”

“What dae ye want me tae say LT?”

“Not your LT anymore, retired remember? And Price told me about your promotion.”

Captain John MacTavish did have a nice ring to it, and Soap had more than earned the stripes. In another world he’d have grinned at Ghost, smug as anything and making some comment about being able to order him around now. But instead he frowned and Simon hated it. 

“Talk to me for Christ sake!”

“I cannae! Ye want me tae tell ye how much I miss your wife? How it kills me that she’ll never forgive me and that she’s right about it?”

“Johnny…”

“Or were ye hoping tae hear that I dinnae even regret Las Almas? It’s ruined everything, but I’ve loved you since I broke my fingers on that stupid bloody mask and I didnae even realise until we nearly fucking died! Ignored it even when I did, had 9 years tae think about how either way I was breaking my own heart because it decided it loved two different people!”

Fuck. He was crying. Johnny was crying. And Simon was caught between wanting to kiss him or kill him. He had never expected to be loved back was the thing. He did something unbearably selfish on the understanding it was all one sided, that the fuck was just the adrenaline from thinking they were going to die and they’d forget it ever happened. And then everything had went to shit and he had fallen in love with Johnny’s widow. He’d already lost one person he loved because he was too scared to admit it, he just couldn’t do it again,  selfish asshole that he was. 

“You should regret it. You… we hurt her. Hurt her so bad that we might lose her.”

“Aye. I deserve tae lose her though, never deserved tae have her in the first place anyway. I just caught you in the crossfire of my sins.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Simon said with full derision.

This has gone on long enough. So what? Everyone was just supposed to be miserable forever? They were supposed to just lay down and take it? Johnny looked at him, hurt and confused. 

“I watched you fight every break up. You fought tooth and fucking nail to make it work. When you fucked up you made it up to her. When she fucked up you forgave her. And what? Now that Johnny is dead? Either you still love her and are willing to fight to get her back, or any part of the man I loved died in Russia.”

“You’ve lost yer fucking mind Si, she’s your wife!”

Simon stood, determined.

“And our wife needs to remember who she belongs to and who belongs to her.”

As he started marching off Johnny near choked and scrambled to follow.

“Ye cannae be serious! Leave her be Si! Ye cannae just barge in and-and-”

“And tell her she’ll try forgive us because we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her? That we can start right now by showing her how well you can follow orders and how well I can give them for her benefit? I bloody well can and I’m bloody well going to. Either you’re with me or you can stay and mope.”

“...aye sir.”

–

Once upon a time Joey being at a sleepover was exciting, it meant some much needed alone time with your husband. Now though? The house felt cold, empty. You considered asking Gaz and Price’s partner if they’d come round to hang out, but it felt so messy when they were just as much Simon’s friend as they were yours. It would somehow make you miss him more. 

Everytime he was at the house briefly and you made polite conversation you wanted to cry. You had a few times, only after he was gone of course. That big fucking lummox. You wanted to strangle him, but then again that wasn’t exactly new. And you wanted rhubarb and sugar. Oh you could murder some rhubarb dipped in sugar like your parents used to give you as a kid. 

The door went just as you finished pouring a large glass of wine. Simon stood looking like he sometimes did when you were about to get absolutely ruined in bed and you swore your heart nearly stopped. Johnny was by his side, pupils blown with a blush crawling up his neck as if he somehow knew exactly what images just popped into your mind. Oh. Oh you suddenly wanted them so badly it hurt. 

And damn them for knowing you so well, for being able to fucking tell. Simon’s lips were on yours as he walked into the house, you being led backwards. You were clawing at his shirt as he squeezed your ass until you bumped into the kitchen island and realised how insane this was, pulling away to try find Johnny. He had followed, was swallowing thickly as Simon started to kiss and nip a path down your neck. This was insane. This was certifiably mental. You could not… have a threesome? Have a threesome with your husband and your husband who had fucked each other ten years ago on a mission before one faked his damn death. 

“W-what are you doing? We can’t…” you mumbled, trying to get your head on straight since currently your brain seemed to reside between your legs.

“Tell me what you need princess. Want me on my knees begging against your pussy? Want Johnny to fly you to Hawaii and keep you in the lap of luxury for a month? Want us to be here every single day in the garden announcing to the neighbours that we deserve a fucking whipping for how badly we fucked everything up with the gorgeous mother of our child?”

Christ almighty. So much for Simon being the unemotional and ineloquent one. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle how much you wanted to just give in. He made it sound so easy, like you could have them both, like they would give you whatever you wanted just to stay by your side despite what they’d done. He was going to his knees in front of you.

“Rhubarb!”

The room froze for a moment as Simon hit the ground with his knees and just stared at you.

“...is that, uh, a safeword?” Johnny asked, seemingly surprised out of the slack jawed, dazed state he seemed to have been in. 

“No. I mean I… rhubarb. You asked what I needed. Rhubarb and sugar, but we have sugar in the cupboard so… just the rhubarb.”

“...ok, rhubarb. We can do rhubarb” Simon said after a moment, taking it in his stride as he snuck a peck to your stomach where his head currently was and then stood. 

If they just left and went to the shops maybe you could… you didn’t know. Maybe you could hurriedly touch yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs and then neck your wine to get rid of the one in your chest. Simon turned and nodded to Johnny and took a few steps, so you picked up the glass of wine to calm yourself down only for Johnny to pluck it out of your hands.

“Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for red wine I’d appreciate that back” you snapped at him.

“And since you’ve suddenly developed a taste for rhubarb I’m naw giving it tae ye.”

“MacTavish” Simon scolded, sure Johnny was about to ruin what he was hoping was some reconciliation here.

“That’s not…” you started before you went pale. 

“How ye been feeling recently hen?”

Oh no. Not now. You just assumed you felt sick because of the stress. But then the take away food had seemed so off despite you usually loving it. You kept having to throw up. You were lethargic. And now you needed rhubarb and sugar, something you had only craved twice in your adult life, the most recent being over a decade ago. The last time you were pregnant. 

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, not liking at all how your face just fell as he strode back to you. “What did you do Johnny? It’s ok sweetheart, I’m sorry we just showed up, seemed like a good idea at the time. Just missed you so much.”

The universe had a sick sense of humour. Over a year of trying for a baby with this man. 18 fucking months. And you get pregnant right before your other husband comes back from the dead, the one it turns out your current husband has slept with behind your back? This could not be happening, but all the signs were there. When had you last had a period? You hadn’t even noticed that you were late with everything going on. 

You tried to do the maths in your head. It had been a few months since Johnny had come back, so you were at the very least that far along. 8 weeks. You had miscarried at 10. Maybe you were further along, maybe you were past the worst of the danger. God you prayed you were past the worst of the danger. 

“Si, gie her some room would ye? We’re right here, if ye want us tae be. It’s up to you, you dinnae have tae…” Johnny said, struggling to get out the words.

There was no thought in your mind that you would get rid of this baby, but the fact that he was putting that option out there when he himself had always been so desperate for a big family was something you appreciated more than you could say. Goddamnit, he still loved you. 9 years away and he still bloody loved you. Would still do whatever it took for you to be happy. Even if in that case this meant not having another baby.

How strange that you thought of this baby as his. How strange that you just as strongly thought of it as Simon’s. If the past few months had shown you anything it was that you could look after a child between the three of you, so it wasn’t like they had to be with you to do it. Even if you’d like them to be. Despite it all, you’d really fucking like them to be.

“Princess?”

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at Simon who was looking increasingly alarmed. You caressed his face and it felt like relief to touch him. 

“Maybe we can go a trip to the doctor on the way for the rhubarb Casper. Think we might be pregnant.”

–

A very healthy baby girl with an incredibly healthy set of lungs. You sang to her, love like A Red, Red Rose for your little Rose. You bawled your eyes out when Joey refused to turn down his hearing aids even when she was screaming at the top of her lungs because that was his baby sister and he would never not want to hear her. It was a good thing you could all sign with the way she drowned you all out, even Johnny as clumsy as his hands were with it had dedicated himself to learning since he had got home. 

You were fairly certain your little Rose was making Price broody with Gaz and their partner finding their grumpy old man losing his mind over a chubby baby adorable. Although there was a good chance Price wasn’t making any babies with how you had planted your foot in his groin when he finally came out of hiding. 

You were still figuring things out, but right now? Right now you were happy. You had two perfect children by two imperfect husbands. It was up in the air what your family was going to look like in the future. Did you want to forgive them? Even if you did, would you be friends and co-parents or something more?

That you hadn’t quite decided yet. But you were determined that whatever the future held for you, it was going to be a future full of love and laughter.

[fall0utmind]

MEDICAL LEAK AU PT 5 UP NOW

AO3 here

Gonna link pt 1-4 below tomorrow (I need to sleep) but for now, find them on my medical leak au tag on my page :)

I am so fucking sorry for the delay!!

Work has been manic, I basically rewrote this whole thing cause I hated it and now I am sick - woooooo

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I'm actually proud of this one, after the long rewrite.

Please, please, please come talk to me about what you think and what you wanna see!!! I need motivation to finish this.

Normal tags and warnings apply :)

(Tw/ suicidal thoughts, overdoses)

Alex had warned them that this is how Marc deals with things. He bottles it up until he can’t anymore, and then he goes somewhere private where he can lick his wounds and let himself fall apart. Watching Marc be so vulnerable, his usual mask of untouchable indifference falling away, is devastating. Jorge holds Marc closer as he trembles, small tremors wracking his frame. He looks incredibly young, curled up in between the older riders. Marc is completely lost in his thoughts now, distress radiating off him. He has been mostly silent, apart from the occasional miserable noises. Now though, he begins to cry, his face moving to press into Jorge’s shoulder as his body shakes with the force of his sobs, uncaring of who he’s clinging to. Marc and Jorge have never been that close, but the older man feels protective of him, in part because the 2015 fallout centred so much around his championship win, but also because of Dani’s soft spot for Marc. Jorge knows it was a big sign of trust for Marc to allow him to stay and witness this, especially from a man who is usually so guarded.

It’s unclear what Marc is imagining in the depths of his mind, but he has begun to slur words in between his sobs. Most of the words are incoherent, but Valentino’s and Alex’s names are clear, alongside the interchanging wrecked pleas to both end his suffering and let him live. Seeing so clearly the devastation Marc has suffered is horrific for them all, but Alex most of all looks gutted, like his heart has been shattered. He has heard those pleas before, back in 2015 when he found Marc and when he had saved his life.

It is this that prompts Jorge to gently shake Marc to awareness, knowing the pain is too much, too dark. Once the medication wears off, he will be ashamed of his weakness. It does not matter how natural or understandable his reaction is, especially after all the shit he has had to deal with; he hates vulnerability. The only thing his friends can do is sit with him during the fallout.

“Marc”

The younger man stirs slightly, choking on a breath as he sobs. He clutches at Jorge weakly, trying to catch his breath in between his cries.

“Cazzo, Marc, you’re ok, you’re ok.”

*

Marc returns to his body with a pounding head and a sore throat, which only ever occurs when he has cried himself dry. He’s a mess; the memories which assaulted him are still at the forefront of his mind, making him feel sick to the stomach. He is in the weird stage where the medicine is wearing off but still making him feel hazy; everything is soft around the edges. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out. He rubs at his face and notices his cheeks are wet. He would usually be mortified by the idea of crying in front of everyone, but he can't bring himself to care in the circumstances. He feels wrung out and over-tired. He knows his eyes will be red and his face blotchy and he frowns at the thought. Dani breaks the silence first, handing Marc some water.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, but also somehow better. I’m sorry for losing it like that-”

Dovi interrupts him before he can finish that thought, fury simmering in his voice.

“Don’t you dare apologise. I don’t care what he taught you about having to hide away, but you don’t have to with us. We know you’re strong, but you don’t have to be strong right now. Not here, not with us.”

Marc gulps back more tears and instead smiles sadly at Dovi, unwilling to touch upon the reference to Valentino. Instead, he turns to look at his younger brother, who looks distraught; it makes him frown slightly. He hates the thought of causing his brother’s sadness. In Marc’s opinions, it is the worst thing he can do, and he has done it often in the last few years. Guilt spikes through him. Alex catches his eyes and shakes his head, knowing exactly what Marc is thinking, as fine-tuned as they are to each other's emotions.

“It’s not your fault, germà. I would take all your pain if I could.”

It makes Marc’s heart break a little. He addresses all of them, his little group of friends, of protectors. These people have seen him at his worst; they have refused to leave when Marc was on rock bottom, and they stuck with him when the world hurled abuse at him. Without them, he would be unmoored in the ocean, drowned by the waves.

“Thank you for staying.”

It’s Jorge who answers.

“Of course.”

*

The waning effects of the medication become clear as the bruises splashed across Marc’s body begin to ache. His shoulder is sore, and the muscles surrounding the joint are tight and stiff, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Alex catches his brother’s poorly concealed winces and hands Marc the rest of his approved dose without a comment. Marc tries to protest; the thought of having more drugs, of needing more, makes him feel queasy. Marc’s relationship with the medication is still rocky. It makes him feel weak and defenceless. It reminds him of dependence, hospital visits, and overdoses. Every time he has those little white pills in his hands, he sees Alex’s blurry face hovering over him, shouting his name, his panic choking him. He hates it. But he knows that if he wants to sleep tonight, he needs to take the stronger stuff that he is prescribed. After Jerez and his arm, normal ibuprofen doesn’t do much for his pain. Alex's eyes are pleading, desperately attempting to convey that Marc is safe here. That he can be vulnerable; he doesn’t have to sit with the pain. The others watch on sadly. Dani feels guilt clawing at him that he didn't notice in 2015 and beyond. When they were still teammates, Marc wouldn’t take the pain medication he was given. Dani always thought it was some weird pleasure of the pain that came from racing and crashing. And then later, perhaps a sick self-punishment for making a mistake. Although he now realises the latter is partially true, he is kicking himself for not digging up a further meaning. He’s not the first to notice Marc’s aversion to medication; it had been a weekly fight with Honda between 2015 and 2020. Nobody was aware of the reason. Why Marc went from hating the sight of the tablets to taking as many as he possibly could after Jerez was less of a mystery. For Marc Marquez, when choosing between not riding or traumatic memories, he’ll always choose the emotional anguish. He swallows the pills.

Alex smiles gently at him, pushing a container of pre-prepared food towards him. Marc turns up his nose; he had already eaten something earlier.

“Eat, you’ll be high as hell if you don’t”

“Not hungry”

Marc pouts, and Christ Alex forgot how obstinate and immature his brother could be, especially after taking his medication. The image of 31-year-old Marc behaving like a toddler makes Dovi chuckle in amusement.

“Marc, you have to eat something-”

“No.”

“Marc, for God’s sake, you can’t just not eat.”

“But I don’t want that. I’ll have a protein bar.”

Their fight is interrupted by a loud knock at the door and a voice calling from outside.

“Marc?”

Anxiety grips Marc, argument forgotten. Instead, he imagines another fervent Rossi fan clawing at their door. Alex jumps to his feet, freezing as the voice speaks again.

“Marc, come on, I know you’re in there, the lights are on.”

Confusion engulfs Alex as he approaches the front of the motorhome, trying to place the somewhat familiar voice. He cautiously unlocks the door and peeks outside, blinking against the darkness. Shock colours his features, his eyes widening as he stares before he comes to his senses and attempts to slam the door shut. The only thing keeping it from closing completely is the foot of their surprise visitor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex practically growls

“Is Marc here? I want to talk to him. Please.”

Dani joins him at the door, ready to help if things get out of hand. Pecco glances between the two Spanish men before letting out a melancholy sigh. Bez is fidgeting behind the world champion, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Alex definitely fancies slamming the door then, even more unimpressed by the sight of the younger Italian.

“I hate that all of this has happened, and I hate even more that we’ve been pitted against each other for no reason. I just want to talk; please can I come in?”

Pecco looks so forlorn standing outside their motorhome, his face open and honest. Marc must recognise the voice more than Alex does, as he calls out to his brother.

“Let him in, Alex.”

Marc is most likely not thinking clearly, and Alex is on the verge of saying no. Instead, with a disgruntled sigh, he steps aside to let Pecco in, looks at Bez, and then grudgingly concedes that he cannot tell him to fuck off. After shooting an exasperated look at Dani, he follows him back to the group of athletes lounging on their couches.

It turns out 7 fully grown adults are a few too many in the cramped space. Pecco takes the empty seat next to where Alex has sat back down, Bez awkwardly squeezing next to him. Marc stares with wide, clouded eyes, his hackles raised; he wasn’t expecting Bez. Although his relationship with Pecco is fairly neutral (probably due to his ambivalence to the whole Valentino situation) Bez and Marc have never been on good terms, the younger always jumping at the opportunity to defend his mentor. Marc frowns at them, untrusting, while his friends protectively shift closer to him. Clearly, from their baffled expressions, Bezzecchi and Bagnaia did not expect to see Marc huddled with Andrea Dovizioso and Jorge Lorenzo on the sofa.

*

Pecco is trying his hardest to comprehend the scene before him; he had not anticipated meeting the three retired riders alongside the brothers. He tilts his head slightly, examining the way Jorge and Dovi appear exasperated but pleased to have a clingy Marc Marquez sprawled on them. Marc himself looks pretty content at their proximity, which is strange; he didn’t think Marc was that close to either of them. Bez and he have clearly intruded, obvious from the disarray of everyone in the room. Marc has been crying, which is surprising in and of itself. Additionally, he appears to have taken some pretty strong painkillers – unsurprising after his crash but surprising after the most recent news reports. He turns towards Alex to voice this, but the younger Marquez beats him to it.

“He doesn’t need supervision these days, but if he is bad or, you know, unhappy, I keep his medication and watch over his dosing. He’s fine.”

Pecco nods in understanding, some of his concern lessening. An awkward kind of quiet falls over the group, no one knowing what to say. Strangely, Marc cannot guess the meaning for their visit, too used to other riders only turning up to pick a fight. Pecco is not one for dramatics, preferring to reign in his emotions, unlike his mentor and his friend. Marc breaks the silence first, curiosity beating pride.

“What are you here for, Bagnaia?”

That earns him a wry smile.

“I want to know if you’re okay.”

“Why do you care?”

The others tense in anticipation as Pecco visibly steals himself. He has found the last 24 hours difficult, fighting an internal battle of morality versus loyalty ever since the fateful press conference.

“I don’t hate you, Marc, and I don’t want to. Honestly, I think with time, maybe next year, we could be friends. I respect your talent, and yes, of course, sometimes I think you ride like a maniac, you take risks, and you are brutal on the track. But that is what makes you so good, so impressive. It is why you have 8 championships; I would be a fool to disregard that. Not only that but you love fiercely. I have seen the way you treat your friends and family, and I admire that.”

Marc thinks he might be dreaming; he pinches himself to be sure. Jorge notices and pushes his hand away with a scowl.

“Don’t lie. You all hate me because of him and his lies. I do not need you messing with my head as well. I see the way your academy copies him, echoing his venom, believing every word and taking his side. My life was hell back then, and you weren’t there to witness it. He ruined my life and tore everything from me. I know he thinks that I ruined his career and whatever other poison the man he calls a best friend fed him. I know he was angry and upset. But I was so young. It has been a decade. He won’t leave me alone. Don’t you understand? I raced to die; I risked it all in a passive attempt to not return to the pits. I just wanted him to look back at me; I wanted my hero to forgive me. Then after Jerez, when he didn’t even say anything and I gave up hope, I just took medication to cope. But Valentino and your precious academy can’t see that. No, instead I am reckless and selfish, only thinking of myself. It is not fair; none of it is fair.”

He feels Jorge tense underneath him and that revelation and knows that he has shared too much, but it is too late now. Pecco is observing him with sad eyes and Bezzecchi looks horrified.

“No, Marc, I do not hate you. I am sorry for the loathing you have felt. People like to push Valentino’s legacy onto me. We are not the same person. This is not my battle, and I refuse to be sucked into Vale’s fights from before I was even on the track. It is stupid.”

His eyes are glazed over and wet as he looks directly into Marc's. The anguish in them makes Marc flinch.

“My sister fought similar battles; it was the hardest time of my life.”

He meets Alex’s eyes, sharing a look of understanding at their joint hurt.

“I know you don’t believe me; I see that you have been hurt before. I hate that you have experienced such awful things, and I hate even more how you are being treated for it now. I am sure Alex feels how I do about Carola; it was the worst pain in the world. I would have given my life ten times over for her. It still hurts you and maybe it will always be raw, but I wish it was not like this.”

Bez lays a hand on Pecco’s shoulder, a show of silent support, prompting Marc to turn towards the youngest Italian.

“And you, Bezzecchi? I know you hate me; you have made that abundantly clear, so why are you here?”

Bez looks away at the accusation, guilt filling him. It is not in his nature to question someone he is loyal to.

“I- I realised I maybe took too much at face value. It is true that I did not like you, or more so the way you ride. But I also didn’t understand you or what you were going through. I guess that I want to make amends for that. And I did not want to leave Franci alone.”

Marc hums, considering Bez’s offer, before he nods, too exhausted and intoxicated to give it any more thought. Whatever, if Bezzecchi wants to be here, then fine, so long as he doesn’t cause any more pain. Rather, Marc returns his attention to Pecco with genuineness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your sister. It is difficult. I hope she’s in a better place now.”

Pecco’s eyes widen in shock, and Marc huffs out a laugh.

“She’s doing better now, thank you. I think you will get on with her well next year; she comes to all the races with me and the team.”

The Italian smiles tentatively, and Marc smiles back, quietly pleased about this admission from his future teammate. Bez glances between them with a frown, still unsure about the tentative truce they have formed. Instead, he turns towards Dovi, who is still eyeing him suspiciously, and shoots him his very best puppy eyes. The older man rolls his eyes at the display before roping Bez and Pecco into a conversation in rapid Italian about the season so far. Dani and Jorge are whispering quietly, the latter still petting Marc’s hair gently. The atmosphere has returned to its tranquil state, once more lulling Marc into a hazy headspace.

Concern is vibrating through Alex as he watches his brother doze. He can’t help but feel like this has all been a little bit too easy. The boys had looked flustered when they turned up, like they had hurried over, as if something had happened just beforehand. He tries to shake off the feeling, standing up and heading into the kitchenette. He grabs a protein bar from the cupboards and chucks it at Marc when he re-enters the main room, causing his brother to startle and glare at him. Dovi snickers at their antics; of course Alex had not forgotten about their previous scrap, much to Marc’s annoyance.

“Eat it.”

Marc scowls but dutifully rips open the packet and starts munching the bar, not before sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“So mature, Marc.”

This prompts a fit of giggles from the older as he continues to eat. Bez and Pecco look on in bewilderment at this version of Marc, the drugs making him more relaxed than they have ever seen. They are shuffling awkwardly as if they’d be kicked out at any minute, feeling a sensation of imposition at seeing the soft person in front of them. Marc rolls his eyes, looking strung out but content.

“Stay?”

And that settles it.

*

In all his stubborn glory, Marc refuses to move off his friends, citing comfort and fatigue as justifications. Alex grumbles good-naturedly about his perpetual clinginess on pain medication, prompting Marc to snuggle closer to Jorge, rubbing his face into the older man’s shoulder and startling a laugh out of him. Pecco looks at Dovi questioningly, his forehead furrowed into a frown, looking for any indication of jealousy in the older Italian but not detecting any. Jorge instantly notices and does not attempt to conceal his laughter laughter.

“Do not worry about it. Dovi hogs Marc the rest of the time; I am allowed him now whilst he is still high as a kite”

Marc pulls away to pout at him, denial on his lips. Before he can begin his argument, though, Alex speaks up, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Tell me about it; you should have seen them earlier. Dovi was practically eating Marc alive with his eyes; it was fucking ridiculous.”

Marc goes bright red at this comment, spluttering out an excuse. Dovi just looks unabashedly smug, meeting Alex’s eyes.

“Hey, when there’s an attractive shirtless man on the sofa when you enter the room, what else are you meant to do?”

Marc directs his glare towards Dovi, an unimpressed frown on his face at the betrayal, but frankly, with the medication softening him, he just looks cute. Dani and Jorge are cracking up at the thought, which only causes Marc to get more annoyed, his cheeks flaming hot.

“Ah, I did not know that you two-”

Both Dovi and Marc jump to correct that assumption. Stumbling over each other to assure Pecco that they are not dating, despite what it looks like. Dani has been suspiciously quiet for most of the conversation, only now turning towards Marc with an insolent smile, meaning that he’s about to say something that Marc won’t like.

“Didn’t stop you from fucking in the past.”

You could hear a pin drop. Alex is whipping his head between his brother and Dovi, his jaw dropped in shock. Marc somehow goes even redder before shoving his face into his hands and groaning, confirming Dani’s statement and prompting the entire group to lose it. Dovi just looks proud and completely unashamed, turning back to Jorge and Dani with a raised eyebrow.

“Like you two can talk.”

“Touché.” replies Jorge with a shrug, hand on Dani’s knee.

Alex feels like he’s losing grip on reality,

“When? When the hell did you two hook up?”

“Ah, 2017, 2018, on and off” answers Dovi.

The others are laughing hard now, even Bez and Pecco giggling at the horrified expression on the youngest Marquez’s face.

Alex speaks once more, recovering quickly as though he is clearly used to his brother’s antics. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice,

“Jesus Marc, what is it with you and shagging older men?”

Pecco chokes at that comment, wheezing a breath through the shock. The others are basically in tears and even Bez is grinning. Marc just looks at his brother’s smirking face and promptly lobs a pillow in his direction - it hits him in the face, causing Marc to crack up. When they all catch their breath, Pecco broaches something that has played on his mind all day.

“Valentino had mentioned something earlier, about you and Dovi-”

Pecco immediately realises his mistake in bringing up Vale. The room pauses awkwardly, and all eyes turn to Marc, whose eyes are still foggy, his limbs lose. It causes him to speak without thinking.

“Ah, he is being a dick; he saw me in Dovi’s jumper and jumped to conclusions. Lord knows why he cares.”

“When the fuck did you see Valentino?”

“Ah, just before the sprint race, he cornered me, spilling some bullshit about ruining the race and being attention-seeking. You know what he is like. He always has loved to make sure I feel small.”

He turns his doe eyes towards Alex,

“It still hurts to hear him say those things about me. It hurts to look into his eyes and see fury and hatred. Not as much as it did then, but still”

Pecco realises then just how out of it Marc must be to let that slip. He gulps, uncomfortable with the pain in his voice, pain that he would usually hide away from the world. Bez looks away. Watching tonight’s interactions brings some new perspective to the academy riders- the quiet beginnings of doubt about their unquestioned deity. It’s difficult to reconcile Vale, their selfless teacher and friend, to Valentino Rossi, who had a rivalry with Marc so fierce the younger had been left picking up the pieces. The Marc in front of them is not the dangerous, deceiving rider they were taught about. This Marc looks at his brother and friends like they hold the universe; he is strong but soft around the edges. He is funny and unabashed in his affection. He loves fiercely and is loved unconditionally in return, a true sign of his character.

Alex is looking at his brother with such sadness in his eyes, reflecting his pain. He does not respond to Marc; he just holds out his hand. It is Jorge who speaks instead.

“I was so angry at Valentino in 2015. So angry at myself for not warning you. I saw it coming from miles away because Rossi could never deal with threats to his success.”

Bez begins to open his mouth, but Pecco elbows him, hard, well aware that now is not the time to stick up for their mentor, no matter how difficult it is to hear. Jorge goes to continue but is interrupted by another forceful knock on the door; it’s Alex who yet again opens it, finding himself face to face with an uncomfortable-looking Luca. The night is getting weirder and weirder.

“Is Pecco here? Or Bez? Nobody knows where they’ve gone.”

Alex opens the door wider, letting Luca see the two Italians on the sofas.

Luca steps inside, shutting the door softly behind him after glances outside worriedly. He gives the boys a pointed looks as he urges them up.

“Come on, we need to go!”

“What why?”

Bez was just starting to feel comfortable in this company; he doesn’t particularly want to leave right now. Luca looks away,

“Look, we just really need to go.”

There is another harsh knock on the door before it flies open. Valentino is standing at the threshold, staring blankly at the spectacle before him.

“What the fuck is going on?”

[monkeytrick]

I am so fucking enraged at the way I’ve been treated man I have fucking nobody I can go to in real life. Getting kicked out of my house that I escaped to from my insane abusive family BECAUSE my roommate-turned-landlady who used to introduce me to people as her ‘new son’ got mad at me for seeking help for being fucking suicidal because of my aforementioned insane abusive family. Dude I started crying when she kicked me out and she just grabbed some fucking tissues and went on about how people have it worse than me like. Bitch I hope you’re haunted every night thinking about the fact that you left me for dead I hope I do fucking die and it ruins your life. Literally everyone who shows me what I perceive to be genuine kindness always turns around on me like this I’m so sick of it man why am I so disposable to everyone I meet?!? Why do I exist just to be exploited when I’m barely exploitable because I’m fucking rslurded for real I don’t get it. I don’t understand. I literally want to understand so bad. Every fucking time man every time someone actually helps me out with my miserable evil hell life on even the smallest level I’m like nooo you don’t have to do this it’s ok and they’re like haha no it’s fine and then as soon as I’m like hmm yeah maybe they mean it maybe I do deserve to have something good happen for once in my fucking life. They immediately pull the rug out from under me and reveal they don’t give a shit about me and just want to make me their fucking paypig or whatever. I’m so sick of man and I’m so sick of panicking and going to people I think I can trust and being like ‘hey man I just got set on fire and covered in ants and every coyote in the world is running after me can I get some help’ and having them be like. ‘Haha! Lol. Good luck with that man.’ And looking way, forever. Or better yet being like ‘hey man! Don’t worry. It’s ok! Don’t feel bad man! Don’t kill yourself! But don’t try to do anything that would remove the ants and coyotes and fire from your body bc frankly I think that would be incredibly selfish since you know I love pouring gasoline on you and all’. Like. I have nothing! My mom has been finding my shit again somehow despite me blocking her everywhere and she’s been sending the most horrible messages berating me for hating her BECAUSE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS! I might fucking die man! And if I do I hope it destroys everything left of these people’s fucking lives! I hope they can’t wake up without immediately thinking of me and how I suffered needlessly

[butterflyinthewell]

Behind a cut so people don’t have to see me rant about my disabled, emotionally abusive dad.

So my dad fell twice in the last five days due to not listening to me and mom. He has Parkinson’s and if you dig through my posts you’ll see me talk about it, so I won’t go into it.

I don’t hate disabled people, just him. I don’t hate him for having Parkinson’s, I hate him for the abuse he inflicted on me and still inflicts on me with his disability as a crutch to get away with it. And I call out ableism when the problems we have with him are caused by the medical care system, because sometimes it’s not his fault.

But THIS situation IS his fault.

SO ANYWAY…

Last Friday, he fell because he wouldn’t stop rocking sideways every time he got up. He gets up with help and uses a walker, but he throws his weight around when he knows me and mom are two tiny women compared to a hulking huge man.

And he fell.

We had to call my aunt and uncle over to get his ass off the damn floor and onto his toilet commode so he could take a shit. Then they got him into bed. He claimed he was fine, and then on Tuesday he started griping that his lower back and buttcheek hurt on the left side. But he could walk and didn’t complain much after the initial gripe.

Today, he was all scrunched up in bed in a way that guarantees his back will hurt and made his pain worse, like I told him it would (and he wouldn’t listen to me).

Mom took him out into the living room and he fell on the way, AGAIN, because he kept rocking his weight around.

Now get this, he doesn’t throw his weight like that when therapists would come over. Dad will be an angel for them, but a nightmare for me and mom. He cooperates for professionals, but not family. He does everything in his power to make life as hard as possible for me and mom. I’m not kidding when I say that.

He goes to the doctor on Monday to find out what the fuck he did to himself, but it’s going to be a nightmare.

My birthday is coming up and of COURSE he does this right before it, and ruins any excitement I had.

Before you attack me for that, keep in mind that he pulls shit like this all the time. He knows everyone will be sympathetic to him while looking at mom and me like we’re evil for being exhausted, angry and burnt out.

The fact that we can’t afford to put him anywhere or get help into this house means we have no lives outside of caregiving. Every waking moment until we sleep is him and all his emotionally abusive bullshit, every day with no breaks, forever. He has ruined holidays, birthdays and plans because his only joy in life is making everyone around him as miserable as he is.

I’ve managed to eke out a few moments of joy here and there, but for the most part my life is a slog that never ends.

I laugh at the people who acted like COVID lockdowns were depriving them of life. I won’t deny that it was a traumatic experience, and this is not aimed at people who got sick anyway and now have long covid. This ain’t you, don’t worry.

But the people who acted so inconvenienced that their social lives got interrupted? Fuck off.

I’ve lived something like the COVID lockdowns for over a decade. No life outside of my house, no life outside of being a caregiver for someone who is sucking away all my compassion and love.

I can’t leave because I’m disabled too and all the legal shit is inaccessible to me.

I’m trapped, mom is trapped, and we are eventually going to die from the stress while he sits there yelling at us for not jumping to his every whim.

My only escape is writing fanfics and staring dead-eyed at my ipad screen, interrupted constantly by him demanding things.

I have accumulated so much trauma from him, and COVID, and mom having medical crises that were resolved, and my needs not being met, that I’ll be surprised to see 45. I will be shocked if I wake up alive on my 45th birthday.

I turn 43 this July 29, 2023, so yeah.

If I don’t die, my mom is going to, and if she goes we’re all dead.

I just hope I go first. Either heart attack or stroke will probably do it, but I don’t want to outlive her and be alone with him.

No child should be trapped as a caregiver for a disabled abusive parent, but it happens and nobody talks about it.

[gildedlavender]

Ok, so here are my very long winded thoughts about OBX part 2. This might be a lot, but I’m not only heartbroken but extremely angry. First, fuck the Pates/Shannon. Finding out that the creators of your favorite show not only hate JJ and Kiara, but also their fans is awful. Having the nerve to sit there and say all that bullshit to try and justify killing JJ? If Rudy wanted to leave, which it’s sounding like that, they gave JJ the worst end possible and tried to ruin his character just to spite him, which is pretty evil. They could’ve written him off any other way with an easier possibility to come back next season. Not to mention them talking about possibly making Riara a thing?! Excuse me?! Kiara would never be with anyone else in the last season, let alone him. I swear to god if they try to pull that shit, Madison better raise hell on that set, because no one hates Riara more than her.

The disrespect to not only JJ but Kiara as well just baffles me. They made Kiara lose her soulmate and now she’ll be the only one who’s alone and miserable. JJ going through hell the whole second half of the season only to have no character development, his friends not be there for him or seem to care about what he’s going through, then die and barely have anyone except Kiara react?! He was abused his whole life, only for his real father to kill him. What kind of an ending for a beloved character is that? JJ literally died for no reason. He’d given Chandler what he wanted already. Having him still die afterwards was just cruel and unnecessary. Not to mention, his death felt weird and rushed. First, instead of running away after giving Chandler the crown, they just stand hugging in his vicinity, then when JJ gets stabbed, Kiara just stands there and doesn’t intervene until he’s done getting stabbed? Then, you expect me to believe he died that quickly afterwards, when Sarah got shot and they had time to drive her all that way before she “died” and came back to life? Rudy gave a good performance, and Madison gave a pretty good one, but I needed more from her in that scene. Everyone else’s reactions were off as well. Why was nobody trying to get him to a hospital, put pressure on his wound, or do CPR? Why wasn’t everyone sobbing and doing everything they could to keep him alive? Then they just buried him in the sand in Morocco?! That made me sick. They can’t even visit his grave. It’s so disrespectful.

Not to mention, Jiara just got together at the end of last season, then the first season we see them as an actual couple, he fucking dies and they’re over, and to make it worse, we barely got any Jiara scenes in Part 2. It literally feels like we never even got to see them as an actual couple. One bad angled kiss scene in 10 episodes is preposterous. If Rudy actually asked for less Jiara intimate scenes, the Pates should’ve shut that shit down immediately and made him do his job. I don’t know why he’d suddenly have an issue though since he didn’t seem to have one in season 3, or Part 1. And Madison’s acting in part 2 during most Jiara scenes, except the last episode, were really emotionless. Even if she was mad at Rudy, she shouldn’t have let that affect her performance. How can both of them be so unprofessional?

The Pates basically said all the couples were endgame. Now you’re telling me, that after everything, everyone gets a happy ending but Kiara and JJ? How would anyone want that for a fan favorite couple? Genuinely why did they even bother making Jiara a thing if this is how they were going to end. What was the point?

Next, a big fuck you to Rudy and Madison for going through that whole press tour giving us hope like that about Jiara. Talking about them being endgame, JJ having great character development, and Rudy acting excited about another season. Literally none of what they said was true. I genuinely don’t know how anyone allowed this to happen. If Rudy wanted to leave so bad, why did he always say he loved playing JJ? He couldn’t suck it up for one more season, seriously? I don’t know what happened between part 1 and 2, but they felt like two completely different seasons. How was he ok with that being JJ’s ending? And the Pates have to be the dumbest people on earth to throw away almost their entire fan base like that. This isn’t some high brow drama where killing main characters is expected. This is a fun teen summer show about treasure hunting. The only way they can make this right is to use the crown to bring JJ back. I would have to think by now, they’re realizing what a horrible mistake they’ve made and that they’re going to be in a lot of trouble for season 5. I’m praying that they can convince Rudy to come back for at least one episode to give him and Jiara a happy ending. I don’t care what they have to do. This was one of the best teen dramas out there and it brought me so much joy. Now I can’t even stomach rewatching it. I’ve never seen a show destroy itself so completely so quickly. Regardless, JJ will always be one of my favorite characters and Jiara one of my favorite ships. They deserved so much better.

[spilltheteawithme]

I noticed that but what can you do, how many will stay once they part ways? /

That’s such a good question. I can honestly tell you that as someone who was an “outsider” looking in for a long time, here are my thoughts:

1) A lot of his “fans” actually hate him because they can’t possess or control him. Their need to write fanfiction about his personal life and force her into every aspect of his being is literally just them trying to exercise some control over his life. It brings them peace to see him visibly miserable with a woman because they don’t feel like they’re missing out on anything.

2) The shippers and other fans who feel obligated to like her subscribe to what I like to call, “uwu rule following culture.” A stupid, clunky name for a stupid, clunky way of thinking lol. It’s basically the idea that everyone in the world needs to act one way in order to be considered “good” or “worthy.” It happens amongst people who are deeply entrenched in fandom culture, I find. These are the people who think that liking the “age appropriate” (read: boring and unattractive) gf will get them brownie points with their fave. These are the people who would clutch their pearls over him seeing a woman in her twenties who has everything in common with him, but jump for joy when he’s with a woman who’s only 2 years younger and is the total opposite of all he’s claimed to stand for. These are the people who compare her to Ale and can only argue that she’s “not problematic” when she’s just as bad, if not worse. FFS, she USES tragedy to further her brand. That’s sick. They make no sense, but they want a gold star for running around the internet yelling at people on his and her behalf, as if they know them personally and have anymore of an insight on their lives than we do.

3) this is a *spicy* take, and it’s also where things get complicated. Bear with me lol:

There are psychos and idiots on BOTH sides of the PR/real argument. There are absolutely the fans who will hate any woman he breathes next to. There are fans who don’t hate Annabelle because she’s actually a jerk, but because she is currently being referred to as his gf. Period. They’re thrilled that there are valid reasons not to like her, but they’re messy af and make the rest of Team PR look tactless and stupid. These ain’t my people because I know that they’ll hate the next girl, too.

On the other hand, I’m going to refer back up to #2 and touch on my UWU Rule Following Culture point: There are people who only like her and refuse to dislike her or subscribe to the PR POV because they’re *not like other fans.* They just want so badly to be the chosen ones to follow Sebastian around with their hands cupped under his ass, not realizing that going along with shit like sheep could potentially be more harmful toward him and not at all what he wants. In short: they will like every rs he’s in, real or not, because they think it makes them better fans. It’s a purity contest.

NOW, here’s where it gets complicated: A lot of the people who typically hate his gfs because they’re his gfs are defending AW like their lives depend on it. Not because they like her or think she’s worthy, but because this is the first gf of Sebastian’s that he has no obvious affection toward or attraction to. And it’s a relief to them. A lot of these people are the same folks who would’ve harmed Margarita with their bare hands because he was obsessed with her. They like that AW is a self-insert. They like that they’re spared the pain of watching him love on a woman. I’d even venture to say that they like that he looks miserable next to her. Because deep down, in their delusion, they like that they can look at that and convince themselves, “I would make him happier.” They drone on about how all of us are sooooo awful and ugly and are just mad that Seb won’t fuck us, but they’re just projecting. Believe me when I say that they will hate the next girl he’s actually crazy about, especially if shes young, talented, and beautiful. And so, some of them will stick by AW because AW will inevitably hate and stalk this woman until every single stringy hair is pulled from her own head.

The obedient UWU rule followers will simply migrate their loyalty over to the next gf. They may be of use in that case if the next girl is lovely and the situation is the total opposite of what the AW situation has been.

Also worth noting that a lot of Seb’s fans hate men and like Sebastian because he’s shown to be a more sympathetic figure toward women (make no mistake: I ADORE that he’s a gentle soul who respects women). It’s kind of like how racist people are just in love with POC who say what they want to hear. They like that, in their minds, he’s submissive and easy to control. Realistically, they are about 2 seconds away from hating him at all times. They are just waiting for him to fail so they can say how he’s awful and just like every other man. A lot of these people ALSO love Annabelle because they don’t think a man should be with a woman he’s crazy about. It’s weird as fucking hell. These are the people who have the nerve to say, “he’s more problematic than she is.” You best believe some of these fuckers will jump ship when they split, and the normal Seb fans will be relieved. Go ride Annabelle’s narcissistic ass into the sunset. Don’t let the door hit you in your way out!

Aaaaand…I think that concludes my novel 😂 some will stay, some will go, some will stay and still ship him with a woman he was never actually in love with long after he’s found someone else. Sebastian said it himself: his fans are a trip!

😳🍿!!

[ekaarts]

RWBY fanfic recomendation

What would happen if the Curious Cat did end up possessing Ruby in the end? Of course, she wakes up in her 15-year-old body.

Ruby Rose and the Curious Cat are now one and the same. She wakes up in Patch just the day before her fight with Torchwick happens.

But Ruby is not fine, stable would be a heavy overstatement as well. She's in pain; she just lost everything; they failed; Atlas is gone; Penny is dead; had no time to process her grief; and now she's one with a creature older than Remnant itself. So her first thought after waking up is to end her new, miserable existence. (Obviously further TW for that and other simular stuff.)

However, she can't pull the trigger. So, inspired by her uncle, she decides to avoid her problems in a way that was affective for many others.

Alcohol.

Her journey leads to Junior's bar, where she ends up meeting Roman Torchwick, who offers her a job. Led by the curiousity of the Cat, she decides to accept it.

And so Ruby starts her new life, free from the burdains of a leader, trying to find a new meaning to her new, caotic existence.

But she's no monster, she also doesn't want Salem to win. How will she manage this?

No fucking clue, we're not there yet; the story just covered the events of volume 1.

I really liked it and can't wait for the next update. Ruby tends to fall a bit out of character, but considering her mental state, it's not that noticeable or bothersome.

I personally found the way the writer portrayed Ruby's suicide attempt somewhat teraputic. Probably in the way only formally suicidal people who cope using humor can, so keep that in mind.

Also, Yang walks in on Ruby trying to paint her room red in chapter 1, so after that, I really want those two to interact. (It's a one pov fic)

Also, it turns out I absolutely LOVE the trope of Ruby somehow joining Torchwick. If you have recommendations for that, I'd love to read them! (I read Found The Good In Souls Gone Bad and am planning a recommendation post for that too in the near future.)

Lines living rent free in my head, for better or worse:

“Ruby, put the gun down.”

“Hmmm, nope!”

“The fuck haven’t you cut her off? Do you know how bad it would look for a kid to drink herself to death here, we’d have cops swarming the place faster than a flock of Nevermores!”

“...A murder.”

“That’s right Junior, you let something like that happen in my city and the Xiongs are going to have to arrange a funeral.”

“Uh, no, it’s just… you said a flock, a group of Nevermore are called a murder.”

“Junior, I fucking hate you.”

She didn’t feel like she needed to vomit but Qrow had said that exact thing before covering her shoes in barf more than once.

“Neo! If you don’t tell me where you hid my coffee I swear to whatever God that will listen that I’ll cut you off from ice cream!”

When Ruby’s fingers wrapped around the crystal she felt… something. Fear wasn’t the right word, it was more like terror. The image of a rolling dark mass of energy flew through Ruby’s mind, there wasn’t any pain, just existence one second and none the next.

Huh, neat, that was interesting. Whelp, into the case it went. Ruby had gone through far too many mind breaking realizations lately to be shocked by the fact that Dust was actually wizard bones.

“So Red, Neo wants to know why you decided to make sweet love to your rib cage with the business end of my steak knife… Got an explanation?”

“I dunno, just wanted to see if I could bleed.”

“So… How’d you join up with Roman?"

“He found me trying to drink myself to death at Junior’s, the rest’s history.”

“Aww, come on! How’m I gonna be a good terrorist if I don’t know what we’re blowing shit up for?"

Come back Ruby. I swear, I’m not racist.

Bonus from the notes and the comments:

I'm here, I'm queer.

Welcome back everyone to the latest installment of my bullshit.

Hi there, its your resident sick bitch back with another serving of my customary bullshit.

Yang: Ruby please don't

Ruby: shut up I'm thinking

[ivy-is-fine]

WARNING: long vent underneath; mostly self deprecation so be mindful of that if you decide to read

chat I’m genuinely tweaking out so fucking bad rn I just spent like an hour and half making a custom Minecraft skin and then I accidentally hit something that destroyed all of my progress, RIGHT BEFORE I DOWNLOADED IT YALL I GONNA EXPLODE I KNOW I SHOULDNT BE SO UPSET OVER SIMETHING STUPID AND POINTLESS AND SMALL AS THIS BUT HOLY FUCKING SHIT IM GOING TO CRY AND THEN I DONT KNOW THROW A HAT AT THE GROUND YALL IT LOOKED SO GOOD I LOVED IT AND THEN I FUCKING RUINED IT ILL NEVER BE ABLE TO MAKE IT THE SAME EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT, JUST HOW I WANTED IT TO BE. I KNOW I CAN JUST MAKE ANOTHER AND BE MORE CAREFUL BUT THAT WILL TAKE SO MUCH MORE TIME AND IT WAS SO TEDIOUS THAT TO SPEND MORE TIME WOULD MAKE THE EXPERIENCE EVEN WORSE. CHAT. CHAT IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND. AND I KNOW IM ONLY SO EMOTIONAL OVER THIS BECAUSE ITS HOT AND MISERABLE AND IM OVERSTIMULATED AND THERES SOMETHING WRONG GOING ON IN MY BODY THATS MADE ME LOSE THE WILL TO EAT AND I HATE MYSELF AND EXISTING FEELS GROSS AND I HAVE NO ENERGY SO NOW IM CRYING JUST AS BAD OVER THIS STUPID, POINTLESS THING AS I DID WHEN MY FUCKING CAT DIED. IM NOT READY FOR THIS SCHOOL YEAR, IM GOING TO BE MISERABLE AND BURNED OUT AND I FEEL LIKE MY BEST FRIENDS DONT LIKE ME EVEN THOUGH I KNOW RATIONALLY THAT THEY DO BUT IM SCARED THAT THEIR OPINIONS OF ME ARE STARTING TO SOUR AND THAT THEYLL LEAVE ME BEHIND JUST AS EVERYONE DOES. GOD IM SO AWKWARD WITH PEOPLE NOBODY LIKES ME I CAN TELL AND I DONT TALK ABOUT ANYTHING INTERESTING OR KNOW ANGTHING ABOUT CARS AND TRUCKS LIEK EVERYONE I EXIST WITH. IM USELESS, I DONT HAVE A JOB, I DONT KNOW HOW TO MOW LAWN OR WEEDWACK OR DRIVE A TRACTOR. IM A WORTHLESS HUMAN WITH ZERO TALENT, ALL I CAN DO IS MAKE USELESS FUCKING ART AND WRITE USELESS FUCKING ESSAYS ABOUT USELESS FUCKING TOPICS. IM SO FUCKING WORTHLESS MY PARENTS SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT FROM THE START, I COULDNT EVEN EAT FUCKIGN RIGHT. I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT MYSELF, I HATE BEING A PICKY AND SLOW EATER ITS FUCKING EMBARRASSING I HATE BEING UNDERWEIGHT BECAUSE IT MAKES ME WEAK AND I HATE BEING WEAK BECAUSE IT MAKES ME EVEN MORE USLESS AND EMBARRASSING. I HATE MY SKINNY FUCKING WRISTS AND THE NAUSEA THAT CONSTANTLY STIRS IN MY GUT. I HATE MY STUPID FUCKING OVERBITE AND THE HERBST APPLICATION IN MY FACE TO FIX IT AND I HATE MY CURLY HAIR THAT I DKNT KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF PROPERLY BECAUSE IT LOOKS STUPID AND MY SWEATY ASS PALMS THAT LEAVE MARKS ON THE FUCKING TABLES ARE AWFUL I HATE IT IT MAKES ME FEEL GROSS I WISH I KNEW HOW TO ACT IN PUBLIC I WISH I KNEE WHAT INCOULD DONTHAT WOULD MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY BUT I KNOW DAMN WELL THAT EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WOULD FUNCTION BETTER WITHOUT ME. I WANT TO BE A PART OF SOCIETY BUT I NEVER KNOW HOW TO ACT, I DONT KNOW WHEN SOMEONE CANT TOLERATE ME. PEOPLE SCARE ME TOO EASILY I WANT TO STAY IN MY ROOM WHERE NO ONE HAS TO SEE ME. I WANT TO SMASH MY HEAD AGAINT A WALL, MAYBE ITLL MAKE ME NORMAL. GOD I CANT FUCKING STAND IT ANYMORE PLEASE I WANT TO KNOW HOW TO FUNCTION NORMALLY, HOW TO MAKNTAIN A HEALTHY WEIGHT, HELL, HOW TO HAVE AN APPETITE. I CONSTANTLY FEEL SICK AND RECENTLY IVE BEEN FEELING SO DETACHED FROM REALITY THAT I CAN HARDLY REGISTER ANY WORDS SPOKEN TO ME AND NO ONE TELLS ME ANYTHING IMPORTANT ANYWAYS LIKE HOW I WAS THE LAST TO KNOW WHERE MY FUCKING CAT GOT BURIED??? NO ONE SEEMED TO FEEL LIEK THAT WA SIMPIRTSNT ENOUGH TO TELL ME!!! IT FEELS LIKE EVERYONE EXPECTS EM TO KNOW STUFF WITHOUT HAVING TO BE TOLD BUT INDONT KNOW!!! I NEVER FUCKING KNOW!! I DOTN KNOW ANHTHING OTHER THAN USELESS PIECES OF TRIVIA THAT WILL NEVER BE USED ANYWHERE AT ALL. UGH I FEEL SO ILL, HUNGRY YET SICK AT THE SAME TIME. STARVING WITH NO DESIRE TO EAT. I KNOW ILL DIE, IM ALWAYS ON THE EDGE WITH DEATH, WAVING ACROSS THE STREET AT EACH OTHER. I DONT WANT TO BE SKINNY. I WANT TO EAT AND BE HEALTHY. BUT I CANT. I DONT KNOW WHY I CANT. I HAVE ACCESS TO FOOD AT ALL TIMES, THERES NOTHING STOPPING ME. I CAN HEAR MY STOMACH BUDDLE AND I CAN FEEL THE HUNGER PANGS BUT THEY DONT SEEM TO TRANSMIT TO MY BRAIN. MY MEMORY IS FAILING ME MORE AND MORE MY THE MINUTE, I CAN FEEL MYSELF

DETERIORATING. GOD IM SO SICK OF THIS THIS GAME ISNT FUN ANYMORE BUT I DONT WANT TO QUIT. ITS HARD BEING THE MEDIATOR, THE LIGHTHEARTED JOKESTER WHO DIFFUSES THE SITUATION AND REMAINS COOL AND CALM. IT FUCKING SUCKS AND I GET WALKED ALL OVER ALL THE TIME.

AND I KNOW THERES MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS WHO HAVE IT HUNDREDS OF TIMES WORSE THAN ME, BUT HOLY FUCKING SHIT LIVING SUCKS. MY BRACES AND HERBST MAKE MY FACE ACHE AND MY KNEES HURT WHEN HIGH PRESSURE SYSTEMS COME IN AND IM SLOW AND DONT PROVIDE ANYTHING FOR A TEAM. MY ARMS FEEL WEAK ALL THE TIME AND MY BRAIN FEELS LIKE AN EMPTY CHAMBER WITH SOME GUNK AND COBWEBS SLOSHING AROUND. GOD IM SO TIRED. EVERY PART OF MY BODY IS TIRED, IM EXHAUSTED THROUGH TO MY BONES AND BACK.

THERES NO GOOD WAY TO CONCLUDE THIS, AND IM SORRY IF YOUVE READ THIS THROUGH(OR AT ALL).

[runningwithfangs]

Vampire Chronicles Book Review/Rant #4

The Tale of the Body Thief

Things take a turn once again! We got into silly Lestat adventures, met new vampires, the world was a bit changed after Akasha’s murder spree, the vamps who are left have to stick together now so we must get another chapter of this new coven right? WRONG.

Anne said it’s time for The Most Special Boy to have a turn in the spotlight again! 

I mean, it was still fun and I liked it overall, don’t get me wrong, but I think this is where The Vampire Chronicles start to get unhinged. It was a bit like watching a slow train crash, you know The Body Thief is lying, everyone warns Lestat not to do it, you know everything is going to go wrong, and you watch Lestat do it anyway. 

Overall I liked David and Lestat’s relationship, learning about David’s life and how he was unsatisfied that after devoting his life to studying mysteries he didn’t feel like he gained any more purpose or understanding in life. I didn’t get much out of Lestat’s hallucinations/memories of Claudia however. 

It was interesting how every vampire, even Louis, turns on Lestat in the human body, we know Marius lets him get away with everything, Louis will always be loyal despite himself, and the other vampires all love him, but once he’s renounced vampirism he’s dead to them all, even though Lestat could be turned again! Sure, Louis won’t do it, but I thought someone would offer! So it’s very convenient Lestat has made one human friend to save his ass.

Favorites:

Lestat laying naked face down ass up on David’s rug for days 😂

Lestat immediately screws up having a body, he’s getting knocked out, he’s pratfalling, he’s injuring himself, getting himself horribly sick. Hilarious! I did get worried when he almost died at the hospital though.

Lestat and other vampires are always describing Louis as “the most human” at best, and like a sickly, weak piece of shit vampire that can’t begin to keep up with the rest at worst. But when Lestat as a human visits him, he’s immediately like, oh shit why did I ever think that?! Louis is so obviously not a human! 

Mojo 💗

Least Favorites:

Anne didn’t let Lestat fuck that old man!! (Link fanfics if you got them 😛)

It’s not an immediate dislike, but disappointment? David, an old white man, takes over the already stolen body of a brown man. The death of this mechanic is not David’s fault, his taking over was the only way to save his own life. However, the old white man becomes a young hot brown man. . . it’s giving Get Out 😣 

There is a missed opportunity in not having David experience not being white in the world, giving that old man a moment to reflect on his past privilege and to grow as a person in the few months before he’s turned. Idk, it’s not that big of a deal but I would have liked to see it. 

And where’s @noncontextlestat at with the list of his crimes? Pretty sure they got SA on there already. 

Smutt:

Lestat gets to fuck a nun, a nun who just happens to be on nun sabbatical where she’s free to sin a little, as a treat. Wowowowow.

Nonsense Meter:

Automatic 9/10 nonsense, I think the reasons are clear.

Gross limp human dick < vampire permaboner. ANNE!!

Misc:

Ok, I must have been reading wrong because it wasn’t until this book that I realized Anne Rice vampires don’t have sex. I thought the sex was implied this whole time 😂

Hear me out, when Daniel and Armand are snuggling in bed and then showering, I’m not supposed to think sex happened at some point? Lestat and Akasha rolling around in bed in some Greek Villa, I’m not supposed to think sex happened?! 

When Claudia asks Louis what sex was like before, I thought she meant it like, “before you and my other dad started hating each other” and not “when you were human because you don’t do that as a vampire.” I’m not crazy, right? 

Chapter 7 (Lestat talking to Louis): “You described my weeping in your miserable memoir in a scene which we both know did not take place!” WHAT SCENE?!

[captainfightingflower]

[Large Vent] I scream about how much i really hate The Jackbox Party Pack 10 so far and how it’s ruining my mental health against my will.

If you really really like how The Jackbox Party Pack 10 is looking, don’t read this: it’s going to ruin your mood. I really REALLY don’t like it, to the point i threw up when checking out their newest reveal, and it’s likely going to make you feel bad for enjoying it and that’s really not what i wanna do. It’s truly wonderful you can enjoy something that makes me sick, and my hate shouldn’t take away from your love and excitement for the pack. 

This also talks a bit about how it’s effecting me mentally, and just how bad it’s tearing me appart due to my lack of a reliable alternate hyperfix i can fall back on and sustain myself with. Read this vent at your own risk, it’s kinda just sad and angry and will likely make you feel sad and angry reading it.

The Jackbox Party Pack 10 doesn’t feel like a real pack in the slightest, it feels like someone’s fan concept that people are gaslighting into thinking it’s real.

They all look so bad, how did ANY of these concepts get approved?!? How the actual fuck is the OFFCIAL Jackbox Party Pack 10 feel more like an fan concept than my fucking fan concept?! THAT’S NOT A GOOD THING!!! 

My concept shouldn’t even be COMPAIRABLE to the official thing!! How the fuck does my passion project register more as an official pack than whatever shmuck Jackbox is puking out?!?

AND WHO’S BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT TO REVEAL TWO GAMES BACK TO BACK?!?! DO THEY WANT TO KILL THEIR STAFF?!?!?! BECAUSE THAT’S HOW YOU KILL YOUR STAFF!!!!

How, how does Jackbox manage to get my expectations to absolute rock bottom and STILL DISAPPOINT ME?!  I expect nothing and i feel offended by how shit these are!! How do they make me physically ill when checking them? I threw up in my mouth when checking out their new toy!

I can’t fucking believe i predicted that The Jackbox Party Pack 10 was going to feel like rat poison to me...i’m terrified at what The Jackbox Party Pack 11 is gonna be to me

It’s to the point where the only way they could make it worse is if they pull another bait & switch and kick Word Spud fans in the shins again like they did for Drawful: Animate’s reveal. If they do that, then i’m going to lose all my respect for them as people, simple as that. Should be impossible since they already revealed their dogshit sequel, but i’ve been wrongfully right before.

Anyways, that’s all of the feelings i’ve been bottling up in regards to this horrendous disgrace to gaming that they’re trying to push. An actual fucking insult to anybody who likes their shit to have soul and don’t kiss Jackbox Games on their ballsack for everything they do (not that their is anything wrong with being a ballsack kisser, you do you as long as you aren’t actively hurting anyone because of your undying loyality).

It’s shit like this that makes me ashamed for being a Jackbox fan, i hate practically everything they do now, desperately scraping the bottom of the barrel for ANYTHING i enjoy about them because i am hungry for content and all i’m finding is rotten junk everyone else thinks is fine dining.

Is there just something wrong with me?! Do i actually like these games, or am i becoming the Jackbox Games pseudo equivalent to a Genwunner and i just can’t physically consume anything post Pack 7 anymore without having a massive problem with them as a whole?! This hyperfixation just feels like a ball and chain sometimes and my ankle feels so sore, i want to leave but i just can’t because hyperfixes aren’t an on & off switch i’m allowed to control.

I feel like that Deby downer that just ruins the fun for everyone. I want to love these game, i really do. But i just can’t, they make me sick to my stomach and i just...can’t consume them without crying or getting so angry. I feel like a miserable hag, i just want to love their packs again...i really really do and it’s tearing me appart internally to see everyone having fun and getting excited and i’m just unable to enjoy anything but unsustainable table scraps that leave me a sniffling mess at every nibble.

I gotta watch this company slowly kill itself and the only thing i can do is make memes complaining about my frustrations on Twitter. I’m just so tired....but i feel better with this all out there, i hope i can find a sustainable hyperfix to fall back on when Jackbox Games is failing me...i may depend on it.

[elizabethhhhhhhhh]

I don’t know how to be a person

How do you not care about if people hate you? If people are talking about you? How do you not worry if someone loves you and why they do and why they don’t anymore? How don’t you need to know? How don’t you think about what everyone else is thinking all the time? Am I being normal or and I’m being weird? Do I look pretty from this angle? Why the fuck do I care if the Taco Bell cashier thinks I’m pretty or not? Why do I care if I’m being mean to the person who’s hurting me? How do I do my best and when it’s not enough, how do I accept that I tried? God I want to be perfect, I want to be easy to love and I want it to be easy to love someone else. I want to be palatable, I don’t want to be hard to swallow. I want to be understood, but how do I expect anyone to understand me when I can’t understand anything myself? I wish my brain worked the same way everyone else’s does, I wish things made sense. I wish I didn’t have an actual existential crisis every time someone leaves. I wish everyone wanted me all the time no matter what, even when I don’t even want what they have to offer anymore. I have an insatiable need to be wanted, it’s horrible. I wish I didn’t feel the need to put every bad thought I have on a billboard on this account, I guess I just like screaming into the void to see if someone will hear it. I wish I told you everything about myself and I wasn’t some watered down version of myself with you. That version of me is so boring and scared and ugly and I hate that that’s really all you knew me as, I don’t know why I never let you in all the way. I guess I knew the kind of man you are, I knew you wouldn’t stay so I didn’t want to give you a piece of myself, but even though you didn’t really know me somehow you still managed to take a chunk. I miss you and I don’t, I hate you and I don’t, I genuinely wish I never met you. I don’t know if me feeling that way is my fault or not because I think I stayed way too long but the pain outweighs the good now. I’m tired of life lessons because I never learn, someone please just stay and maybe I can be normal. Maybe i can be soft and easy to digest and small and quiet, but unfortunately that’s not who I am as much as I want it to be. I am not a woman I feel like a child wearing her mom’s heels around the house playing pretend. I have pretend money and an imaginary husband I talk to in my head, I have a pretend car I drive around with no destination, I have a pretend positivity on life. Everything I feel is pretend, I’m fucking fighting everything in me to feel like everyone else but I’m also terrified of being like everyone else. I want so bad to be the same as everyone but I love the drama, I love the pain and the beauty of the suffering, the intensity of it. Nothing is more comfortable than something you already know, and I know how to keep myself miserable. I know how to be too much, I know how to make you sick of me. I am not easy to swallow I have sharp edges and I’m not soft, I’m hard to chew. I give people shit all the time for not knowing what they want but there is no one in the world that is more unsure about they want than me but instead of running I just let everyone do whatever they want to me, and I think that’s the worst thing I could do to myself.

[daddyjenzus]

*My one feeling*

I feel horrible. For the whole day today. It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t get better. I can’t distract myself from it. It feels like what I imagine panic attacks feel like. It feels like depression.

I am breathing heavy, my vision is darkened and with less viewing angle, I feel nauseous to the point where i think I have to throw up and I have headaches. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to see anyone.

I can not make the feeling go away on my own. I can not distract myself from it. I don’t know how long it will last this time. Normally it lasts until either the reason it’s originated from is gone or it randomly stops at some point, leaving me with a memory of it that gets me frightened and shivering.

I got that feeling before. A lot actually. I thinks it’s one of my narcissistic feelings, maybe the only one i really do have. And it feels like a moment I remember from my childhood. An incomplete memory of a feeling from a situation where I lost something. Something that wasn’t even mine. It was a pencil owned by my brother. It’s a weird story and it’s not even sad. But when we lost that pencil, I cried for hours. For the whole day. And a lot on the day afterwards, too. I cried forever.

This memory is one of the worst memories of my life. When i think about that pencil, I feel the same as I feel now.

I am not sad, I don’t cry, I didn’t lose anything and I have no idea why I should even feel loss. I want to cry.

I think it’s not real, but it does feel very real. The more I think about it, the more reaction I get from my body. Literally shaking and getting more sick. It’s very hard to write because I can’t concentrate. I’ve never made that many mistakes while typing in any of the other texts.

This feeling of loss brings questions and ideas into my head that I don’t want there. Ideas of spying, lying, manipulating. Ideas of getting someone to follow me, love me. To bind someone to me. To remove their free will. To do anything to fill the emptiness inside of me.

I can’t run away from it and leaves a mark every time I encounter it. It’s my feeling for betrayal, jealousy and loss. It pushes me around like a bully and makes me do things I regret later. I don’t want it. Leave me alone.

I have to stop now here or I’m gonna kill myself if I have to think about it any longer.

*30.01.23*

I am better today. The feeling is still there, the whole day was miserable. Less than yesterday, but still bad.

I think I know now why I feel like that. Its when I hate myself. When I am not good enough. When I don’t have empathy. When I can’t be a good friend. When I am not pretty enough. When I am so bad that no one wants me.

I know I am bad. I know I am toxic. I am sorry, my personality is shit, I am a psycho, I don’t have empathy. I am trying. I am really trying. I am not all bad. Don’t hate me.

I know I am bad. But don’t tell me that your time with me was the worst you have ever had and that you never want time with me again.

Why can I not have empathy? Why can I not be a good friend? Why do I have to make everything worse? Why am I still a child?

It doesn’t matter if I do the right or the wrong thing. I fuck everything up. Over and over. All the time. And then I’m alone.

I am miserable. No one likes miserable people. I am still smoking, no one else does anymore. Everyone tells me to stop, everyone will hate me when I have to make a pause to have a smoke. I can be a bitch when I’m in a bad mood. I am a bitch very often lately. Everyone hates bitches. I have a big ego. Everyone hates big egos.

I am a narcissist. No one likes narcissists. A lot of people tell me I’m toxic. That I am not good for other people. That you shouldn’t trust me. And you shouldn’t. It’s probably for the better. If I fuck up, I hurt someone. No one wants to be with a narcissist anyways. Our relationships don’t last. I’m tired of trying and fucking up again. I’m tired of thinking I can get it right this time. I’m tired of thinking of having feelings and a normal life one day. Just one mistake and I have to start at zero again. I have to be the best me to get people to trust me again. Do everything right. I get nothing. Because they don’t trust me. And they shouldn’t. I can fuck up again any moment. And I probably will. And then I’m alone again.

Everyone would always tell me that they are there for me. That they like me. That I am funny, supportive and a good friend. They would tell me that they trust me.

But when they are down or feel bad, when they talk about emotions or feelings, I am not allowed. No one wants me there. Because I don’t understand. Because I can’t feel it. Because I would use it against them. Because they don’t trust me.

I can’t blame them. I would do the same if I were them. It’s a cycle neither me nor them can break. Well, I don’t know if I can. I’ve tried and failed. And tried. And failed. And every time I fail again, the trust gets reset. And I don’t blame them. And I am alone.

And then I am empty. And the only feeling I get is the feeling I have now. The feeling of loss and jealousy and betrayal and hate. And this urge to cry. I know, I can’t ever stop crying if I start. I will cry until I I lose myself in the emptiness. I will cry forever. Again.

*31.01.23.*

[blueshinefox]

Vent - A terrible situation

I just feel like I need to vent cause I just kinda need to get this off my chest. Anyways, here comes the vent.

I'm all alone. I have no one. I have no friends to talk to. All of my friends are online. I know I'm online all the time, a lot more than I should be. But that's where all my amazing friends are, the only people who truly get me. I can't just leave…

I hate Grafton school. I hate it with a passion. I never want to go back there. Whenever I'm in Grafton school, I feel like I'm surrounded by people who don't get me. No one talks to me. No one.

I was sick with diarrhea and missed two days of Grafton school. No one even noticed I was gone, or cared. No one asked me if I was feeling better.

I can't fit in no matter how much I try. I'm so miserable. I had to leave all of my shit behind. So much things that I had in my life are all fucking gone.

Why do I have to struggle so fucking much? What the fuck do I have to do to be so comfortable just to get where I’m at?

I don't understand why it was so easy for me, but I had to lose everything all over again. Why do I constantly lose everything? If I'm not losing everything, I'm losing everyone and I'm so fucking sick of it.

I've been working on myself for so fucking long, and yet, over and over, I lose so much shit, and people I care for.

I've been feeling so fucking depressed and lonely for, like, 2 days now because I keep thinking about this all the goddamn time. I feel like something is wrong with me and I really don't know why, but it just really scares the shit outta me.

I just don't fucking know what to do anymore. I wanna act mature and not have meltdowns, and I'm trying my fucking hardest to control it or calm down with autism, but life is beating me down, and lately, it's been getting harder and harder to get back up.

I want to move away from Grafton school and just be done with everything. I want to go back to Oakton High School, where people actually get me, like my Fusion art school. But I can't just do that. It was awful just moving what I have to Grafton school.

Feel free to DM me if you want to talk to me, but do not feel obligated too. I don’t want people to feel bad for me, I just needed to get this out while crying.