#its so hard for me to be open about the things that have happened to me the last 2 years

[drchucktingle]

non-dysphoric soul

i am not a religious buckaroo and dont think i ever will be. this universe is so wonderful and my life so blessed that idea of needing something more does not make any sense to me. what we KNOW about existence already takes my breath away, i do not need the unknown. i am so happy and thankful as is

HOWEVER i am also curious and while i do not NEED the grand unknown i find it exciting and romantic sometimes. i FEEL it in art, and i am not arrogant enough to think 'i know everything'. i do not. so there is a door within me that is open to something spiritual for lack of a better word.

lately i feel the door opening wider and wider and while i think most folks think of my agnostic trot as a sort of SIDEKICK to atheism, to me it is really its own thing that has plenty of room for thoughts of 'well maybe there is something more? i do not know so lets bask in it and see what happens'

i think single most important part of my journey as spiritual buckaroo has been self reflection and personal understanding of my own non-dysphoric transness. which is interesting because i think some who CLAIM to be spiritual in the specific american christian sense have a large anti-trans history

and it makes me think ‘kinda wild that you can believe in a soul that is distinct from all the firing neurons and churning cells of your body, some separate trot outside of known matter and energy, and then claim that this soul ALWAYS ends up in a correspondingly gendered slot?’ couldnt wires cross?

REMINDER i am not a religious person. i am not sure if there is a soul out there that defies any sort of quantifiable trot. maybe this SELF i feel is just electrical currents of a brain trying VERY HARD to convince itself of something more. the jury is out. ITS OKAY. in fact the mystery is beautiful

over time, i feel like i get hints from the jury, one or two heads poppin out from the jury chambers to wink and say there is something more. A SOUL. whether that soul is a wonder of science of a wonder of the great beyond will probably never be answered. that is just fine with me. i do not need it

point is, my understanding of my own self and my non-dysphoric trans way can BEST (maybe ONLY) be described in terms of a soul. i have no desire to change, no dysphoria, no plans. it has never had a impact on my life and very likely never will, but feeling is true. id be lying to say otherwise.

so with all the politics around gender and who can identify as what and on and on, i find myself saying ‘well my soul is this, and my body is this, and that is fine. i love my body and i love my soul and they happen to be two different trots’. its easy to miss the SOUL part of that conversation

'A SOUL?' i suddenly think. 'WHAT THE HECK? YOU DONT BELIEVE IN SOULS'. and i have to remind myself, ‘well you dont believe in anything really, you DONT KNOW’ and while most see this proclamation of not knowing as being closed off to all things, i see it as being open to all things

and i am grateful. how lucky that this rare sensation of soul and body disconnection could happen TO ME? because it declares THERE IS A SOUL. i know to others the trans journey is hard and i dont want to diminish that. it can be pain it can be torture. but thats not my story and theres room for all

because every day that i notice MY disconnection between body and soul is a day i get to reach into the great beyond, into the vast cosmos, and feel around for a while. i still do not expect to find anything, but DANG is it fun. and DANG is it exciting to be alive in a way that proves love to myself

[urfavhecate]

I’ve been waiting for too long | drunk!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After your breakup with Wanda, Natasha takes care of you… good care…

Warnings: oneshot, drunk Natasha, SMUT, +18, MDNI ! drunk sex, breakup mention, short one, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), multiple orgasm, kinda overstimulation.

Note: Hey guy, it has been long time since last post. As always… English isn’t my first language sp im sorry for all mistakes. This year I have my finals so it’s hard to find time for hobbies but I hope I’ll find more time to write some stuff. If you have any ideas for next shots or stories m requests are open, or if you want to yapp a little I’m also here. <3

No one is allowed to copy, translate or pubish my work as their own!

The life of an Avengers was never easy. As soon as you started your relationship with Wanda, you felt like you had found everything you needed, almost like you had grabbed God by the legs. However, as it quickly turned out, nothing lasts forever, because a few months later Wanda broke up with you.

It was one of those evenings when the Avengers tower seemed empty. While everyone else was busy with their own things, Natasha was sitting in the living room drinking her beer. When she saw you enter the room, she handed you a bottle so you could rest a bit.

„Have a drink and relax” she simply said. You thanked her and fell down on the couch next to Natasha. She just looked at you, knowing something was wrong. "Rough day?" she asked with a stoic face.

“Wanda broke up with me,” you replied quietly, your voice breaking at the thought of what had happened. “She chose that fucking toaster on legs over me.”

Natasha couldn’t help but giggle softly at the comment. “Vision you mean?”

“i don’t get it… what did i do wrong?”

Natasha’s smirk disappeared from her face. She leaned back on the couch, and she sighed before she could muster up a response. “Maybe you didn’t do anything… Sometimes its about what people want or don’t want”

“But him?! Really?! What did he have what i don’t?” You were irritated just thinking about him. He was a robot, he wasn’t even human.

"Beats me... He can fly and shoot lasers from his head" Natasha laughed again "You know... not everyone has good taste"

You laughed softly as you started to question whether or not he had a metal dick. You started to joke as Natasha smiled knowing that she cheered you up a bit, she didn't like seeing you down. Your relationship had always been weird. It wasn't just friendly flirting, but you never talked about what was between you, pretending that you were just friends and worked together.

“I think we should find you a new hobby because I don’t want to picture his metal dick again” The redhead laughed.

“I have one idea… We could always go to a bar”

It wasn’t long before you ended up at one of the nearby bars, drinking and dancing. A few shots and drinks later, you both were visibly tipsy, the alcohol was taking effect. Natasha’s usual composure loosened as her inhibitions lowered, her gaze more carefree and lighthearted. She leaned back against the barstool, studying you with a lazy smirk on her face.

“What?” you giggled noticing she was staring at you.

“Nothing… You just a lot more fun when youre drunk” she answered letting inner thoughts threaten to spill out.

When you finished on the dance floor, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, you danced and your bodies rubbed against each other. She let her hand drift to your hip, pulling you even closer to her. Her eyes met yours, dark with mix of intoxication and desire.

“You're beautiful you know that?” you mumbled moving closer to her, your lips were now just inches apart.

“Am I?” she murmured softly, her voice a low seductive purr “Or is that just the alcohol talking”

“you are hot as fuck” Natasha's smirk turned cocky as her eyes burned with desire. She gently pushed you backwards until your back hit the wall, trapping you against it with the weight of her body. Her hand moved from your hip to your chin, tipping your face up to meet her gaze. Natasha chuckled, her body pressing against yours, her hand still holding your chin, her gaze boring into yours. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your earlobe, her voice a heady whisper in your ear.

"You don't know what you're asking for," she muttered huskily, her free hand roaming over the fabric of your clothes. "I can make you feel things you've never felt before." Wanda wasn’t really dominant so this was new and exiting at the same time.

Natasha dragged you into a taxi and you headed back to the tower. Throughout the whole way, you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves, wandering over the other woman's body.

Natasha's patience had reached its limit. The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, she punted. She slammed you against the wall, her body trapping yours, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"I can't wait anymore," she panted, her hands roaming all over your body, touching you with a desperate need. Her lips found your neck, kissing and nipping, leaving a trail of heated affection “I’ve been waiting for too long”

You moaned when her lips touched your neck and your fingers tangled with her hair. Natasha hummed against your neck, the sound a mixture of approval and desire. Your moan sent a jolt of arousal through her body, fueling her need to feel your skin against hers. Her hands roamed freely over your body, slipping under your clothes, seeking more contact, more flesh. Her kisses moved up until her lips found yours, capturing them in a passionate, demanding kiss.

When you got out of the elevator, Natasha immediately pushed you against the wall. Natasha groaned when you wrapped your leg around her waist, the action bringing your bodies even closer together. She ground her hips against you, the movement hard and desperate, her need for you becoming almost primal. She broke the kiss just long enough to let out a ragged exhale, her breath mingling with yours. "I want you. Now."

“Say it again... please….” You moaned. Natasha's hand gripped your hip, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pushed you harder against the wall. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a low, sinful whisper.

"I want you. I need you. Now." Her hand slid up the length of your thigh, hooking your leg over her hip, the movement more possessive than ever before. "You understand?"

At that moment, you didn't care about the breakup or that anyone could see you two. Natasha's sloppy kisses were driving you crazy, so you dragged her to your room. Natasha pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and pinning your hands above your head.

"Wanda never dominated you huh?" Natasha smiled knowing it was true. "Baby with me you'll feel things you could only dream of with Wanda"

A moment later they ended up naked in your bed. Natasha moved lower kissing your chest, your stomach and finally ending between those legs. She couldn't help herself and ran her tongue through your wet folds. She moaned loudly at the taste of you on her tongue.

"oh god... you taste so good"

Your fingers tangled in her hair holding her where you needed her the most. Her tongue moved faster and faster, and you squirmed beneath her. Natasha grabbed your thighs to keep you in place. She continued to eat your pussy like it was her last meal. She was hungry for your taste. It wasn't long before she added her fingers, pushing two of them roughly into your pussy. You moaned with pleasure, wanting more. You tugged at her hair, holding her between your shaking legs. Her movements were still sloppy from the alcohol. She mumbled something under her breath as she gently sucked on your clit.

"I’m… I’m gonna... cum... Natasha please… can I cum?" you moaned. Your body trembled as you ere closer to the pleasure, as Natasha’s fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot.

"Good girl, asking for permission... such a submissive good girl." Natasha mumbled, pushing another finger into your pussy "Cum for me baby"

It wasn't long before you came on Natasha's face. The redhead lapped up your juices, not wanting to waste a single drop. Her face was covered in your orgasm and her eyes still held a hunger. Her pupils were much larger and her irises were a darker shade of green.

“Nat… Natasha… oh god… fuck…!”

“Good girl, scream my name… my good girl” she kept mumbling.

As you came down from your high, you thought Natasha would pull away to kiss you, but she continued eating your pussy. She couldn't hold back, it only took a moment for her to become addicted to your taste. Natara's free hand pressed gently against your lower abdomen.

"Natasha...tooo sensitve..." you tried to pull away but Natasha held you in place.

"Don't you dare move. Just one more"

Natasha continued fucking you not paying attention to the overwhelming pleasure that was spreading throughout your body. Life mattered to your cheeks. Your legs shook as Natasha's fingers moved in and out at a rapid pace. You squirmed, moaning her name like a prayer.

"I can't...I can't…" You kept screaming.

"You can do it baby....You'll feel so good..."

“Tell me when you belong to… Tell me you’re mine…” She softly bit your clit.

“I’m yours… only yours…”

As you came a second time Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead. Her hands moved to your breasts. “I’m not done with you yet”

[iatrophilosophos]

I think a thing that i find deeply frustrating from every political & philosophical perspective is a deep lack of engagement with medicine. I think at the very root of it is a sense of professional/expertise/authoritative domain. Most people do not talk about how to make medicine happen, they talk about creating conditions conducive to producing an effective medical class +/- production appartus. Anarchists are just as guilty of this as communists as reformerists: you can't tell me that most of the people who gesture at projects like four thieves, open insulin, boobs not bombs (don't get me started), and various street medicine projects aren't also just invoking the image of a detached force of competent agents.

I'll be a hater until the end of time but sometimes it is kinda hard to blame ur average disabled civvie's knee-jerk "what about my meds" because the question is conspicuously absent or relegated to ignorant grandstanding so, so often. Anyone actually critically examining the projects we often cite as easy, publicly available examples will quickly note that they *do* have deep flaws and vulnerabilities. Medicine is conspicuously absent from the texts we cite, pearlman doesnt talk about it, postciv! doesnt talk about it...because these works, no matter how much love I have for them, are really not actually concerned with disabled people all that much.

Most anticiv ppl i know are disabled/medication dependent ourselves & working on it, it's just like really fucking hard, and really hard to generate Texts(tm) while also doing the thing. It's a weird, long, slow process that I'm getting progressively better at & have been for years, but it's also something that happens in conversations and relationships and it's hard to iron out and commit to paper when honestly, synthesizing an effective, sustainable, bioregionally feasible medical MO in current times IS a field in its infancy AND one that looks radically different for every cohort because we are located in different places and starting from a point of different needs/conditions of priority.

Acting like the people who prioritize this just Have It on lock and will get it figured is doing everyone a disservice--it's a paper thin posture that disabled ppl are gonna see through, and it's reinforcing the idea that the average person in the imperial core doesn't need to have any concept of what they'd do with, idk, kidney stones or conjuctivitis or Whatever because they can Just See A Professional About It, even though we ***know*** that that idea doesn't hold up for tons of people NOW, let alone as collapse continues.

[crows-heart]

To us

rawdogging this shit it was meant to just be a creative writing assignment but it got too long for it so im putting the full version on here!!! i dont intend for this to get big or like have a part two but i am open to writing one (definitely not going to abandon this like i did with my last fanfic thing noppers)

simon riley x gn!reader, 1st person w/o use of y/n, string of fate soulmate au (i did write it gn but it stil feels feminine somehow so apologies)

cross posted on ao3!!

As soon as you turn 18, a string appears, forever attached to your pinky, that only you can see. Nobody particularly knows how this happens, but we’ve learned to not question it. It leads to your forever soulmate, your other half. Most of the time, the string was red, leading to your destined romantic soulmate. Sometimes, though, some people had pink strings, leading to their platonic soulmate. Other times, multiple strings would be knotted together in the middle. Very rarely did someone have no string, but it still happened.

You’re meant to follow your string, find your soulmate, and live happily ever after. 

I don't think that life was meant for me.

It started (obviously) when I turned 18. It was just a red string, nothing more to it, from what I could tell. It led east, and it always seemed to be slack -- slack enough to give the impression that my soulmate was much farther away than I thought they would be. That's fine. Just more motivation to explore the world, right?

I was always told to never lose hope, and that no matter what, I would reach my soulmate eventually. I just had to let “nature take its course” first. Yeah, I don't know about everyone else, but I started losing hope the more years that passed without the string getting any more taut. Sure, I could’ve taken initiative, but I was a broke 20-something year old fresh out of college. I hardly had the money for rent or any other basic necessities, much less a plane ticket or gas money to see where in the world my soulmate was.

That got pushed out of the way the moment the string started to fray.

It wasn't a normal phenomenon. The only times I ever heard about the string starting to break was when your soulmate was dying. It broke fully when they died. 

My string? It looked about one tug away from snapping apart.

I doubted I looked much better at the moment. The old lady I was sitting next to on the plane gave me a sympathetic look at my frazzled appearance, though I hardly noticed it since I was looking at the string every other second, watching for any more tearing. I bought the cheapest tickets on the earliest plane to Europe, hoping it wasn’t a waste to go across an entire ocean. I would start in Britain and go from there. The string was moving around a lot recently, pointing southwest for the first time and shifting around a bit, but it's finally returned to pointing east, and has stayed there, so I can only trust that my soulmate isn't moving anytime soon.

I did anything I could do to distract myself from the situation at hand. I tried watching movies, reading a book, even staring at the cabin wall to bore myself to sleep. I was desperate for a distraction. There wasn’t even any screaming and kicking children to keep me awake, but I just couldn’t sleep. I had too much nervous energy. My soulmate is dying and I don't even know who they are.

Finally, the plane touched down and everyone was let out. I was trying hard not to push people around, but I did bump into a couple people on my scramble to get out since I was looking at my string. It wasn’t looking any better, but it wasn’t as slack. That was a good start.

I tried not to get anxious as I got my luggage and headed out of the airport, but it was hard. Even if Britain was considerably smaller than the United States, it was still huge, and there's still so many people here. It was like I was trying to look for a needle in a haystack, but I had a terrible lighter to burn away parts of the hay -- the lighter being my string.

I throw my stuff into the first taxi I can find and wait as the driver brings me to the nearest motel. Like I said, I'm a broke 20-something year old. There conveniently was a car rental nearby, so I got over there as fast as I could. I didn’t have a lot of time to waste, especially considering how the string was looking.

It was facing north eastern now, just a slight change, and it wasn’t any more taut than it had been at the airport. It still looked close to breaking, enough for that anxiety to grow and grow. As I drove down the -- thankfully -- empty highway, in between flicking my eyes from the road to my string, all I could think about was what to say. Clearly, whoever was on the end of this thing wasn’t in good shape. They’d still be alive, sure, but what’s guaranteeing that they’re even awake right now, or that they’d even want to see me? I haven’t exactly tried to reach out, but neither have they.

Those thoughts are put on the back burner for the moment as a building comes up on the horizon. I slowed down, realizing I had been speeding up slowly the longer I was trapped in my head. The building was a hospital. The closer I got, the more I noticed. There were 2 trucks parked in the front and a group of men standing by the one closest to the road. The men seemed to be military, if their stature and general appearance was anything to go off of, but I couldn’t focus on any of that.

All I could focus on was the string leading directly to the middle of the group, leading directly to the tallest of the group, who was leaning against two others.

My breath hitches and I quickly park the car, not even bothering to shut it off as I throw open the door. I’m rooted in place, unable to move as the two soldiers lead the third to the truck. The third had his head tilted slightly down, looking like he was barely managing to put one foot in front of the other.

He must’ve noticed the way the string was, taut and insistent, as his head picks up and he turns as best as he can, eyes now staring directly at mine. Neither of us look away as he’s pushed into the truck. I take a step forward, but the truck starts and I can just barely make out the narrowing of his eyes as the truck drives further away, pulling him further away.

I should’ve taken the car and chased after them. Should’ve taken that tiny rental car and pulled over an entire army truck. I didn’t. Instead, I step inside the hospital entrance, trying to not sound like I’m insane as I stand before the front desk.

“Ma’am, I’m really sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you know of a patient that just left? He’s really tall, built like a brick wall, left just a moment ago with two others.” The words tumble out of my mouth as my hands grip the edge of the desk. The secretary’s brows furrow, looking up from her computer to take in my awkward grin and frazzled demeanor.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that information.” Her voice is firm, but sympathetic.

“Please, I- I don’t know who he is but he’s my soulmate and my string is frayed--” My pleas are interrupted by a gruff cough, a clearing of the throat for attention. My shoulders tense as both mine and the secretary’s gaze lands on the man standing just a couple of steps away. He looked to be a soldier as well, though maybe a bit older than the others I saw outside earlier.

The man wasn’t looking at the secretary, rather his gaze landed on me, softening slightly at my obvious distress.

“I migh’ be able to help you with tha’.”

The man introduced himself as John. He said he was the captain of the men I saw earlier -- Johnny, Kyle, and Simon.

Simon. My soulmate’s name is Simon.

It’s funny how quickly things change. Just yesterday, I was worrying over what to eat over dinner, and now, I’m worrying about my soulmate’s possibility of dying and first impressions. John warned me that he was a bit reclusive -- which explained why he hadn’t attempted to reach out to me either -- and had just gotten back from a near death experience. He was going to be jumpy, to say the least, and probably a bit too cautious.

The ride there to their base was quiet. I was stuck in my thoughts again, staring at my string, and John didn’t try to push for a conversation. The truck eventually rumbles past a pair of gates and parks, prompting me to step out. I follow behind John as he walks ahead, making sure not to stray too far behind so people know I'm with him and not just some random civilian who snuck inside. 

He leads me through the winding corridors, occasionally looking back with that firm, but slightly softened look. We come up to what looks like a common room, where the two soldiers I saw earlier were sitting.

“Where’s the third muppet?” John asks, giving a subtle nod towards me. The eyes of the pair were a bit unnerving, but I tried not to think about it. The string around my pinky was taut once more, attempting to tug me towards where my soulmate was.

“He’s in his room, sir.” The one with the hat -- Kyle, I suppose -- remarks. His eyes were on the captain, but his attention was divided between the two of us. “Dunno if he’s accepting visitors.”

“He’ll make an exception.” With that, John places a hand on my back and guides me to the hallway attached, giving another nod to prompt me to go. He stays back with the other two, probably to explain the situation.

Walking down the hallways leading to his room was nerve racking. I kept my head down and focused on the string, letting it guide me. There weren’t many people walking around, thankfully, but the few that were only gave me odd looks before continuing on. Eventually, I came to a stop in front of an unassuming door where my string was pulled under it. I breathe out a sigh and raise my hand to knock, the sound seemingly echoing in the rather empty hallways.

There's a grumble from behind the door, and some shuffling, but it opens inwards regardless. My soulmate stands before me, just as silent as I was. He stood tall, though with a bit of limp, likely due to whatever injury he faced that caused the fraying in the first place. His good shoulder leaned against the doorframe, supporting his weight when he couldn’t. The two of us stared at each other for a moment, still in silence. I snap out of it soon enough, my eyes meeting his, the same dark eyes that caught mine earlier.

“Hi.” The awkward smile was back, this time a little softer and less panicked. I could only hope that he still wanted me after all these years with no attempt to find him.

His expression was unreadable, making me unable to get a grasp on how he might react.

“Look, I know that we’ve never met, but I… I don't want to lose you before I even know who you are.” He continues to stand there, causing me to keep talking, if only to fill the awkward silence. “I couldn’t just sit and wait while our string looks like--”

Just like earlier, my rambling is interrupted. He moves closer, as if in a daze, and slumps against me, his body going limp in my arms. I go still, staring straight ahead, but I move only when Simon’s arms wrap softly around my waist. One of my hands cusps the back of his head and the other rests on his upper back, right between his shoulder blades, rubbing softly up and down while remaining mindful of any injuries in the area.

“... Hi.” He mumbles back, voice muffled by how his face was buried in my shirt. His voice was raspy, like how one might sound after shouting for hours on end, but it was comforting, though I doubt that was intended.

A warmth bloomed between the two of us and if I had looked down at our string, I would’ve seen the strands slowly coming together. Not fully, but it was starting to be a little more stable.

It’d take a while for the string to go back to normal, but I was willing to dedicate the rest of my days to it-- to us. 

[dust-cake-grrrl]

the other day i made a comment on tiktok where i said that i dont believe TERFs are feminists, and was told to "recognize my bias within my own community"--which, i do. i am biased towards people who DONT hate trans people. theres also nothing radical or feminist to me about hating trans people. what an insane thought, i know. but anyway, it led me down a rabbit hole on terfblr & i have a rant id like to post.

**i am NOT looking for a debate. that would imply that the existence of trans people (people i love) is something to be debated. its not.**

as someone who considers myself a radical feminist, terfs make no sense to me. like i previously stated, im not looking to debate these people, because my feminism cannot and will not exist without trans people, and anyone who questions that shouldnt be given a platform to spread their agenda.

i dont believe im a "TIRF", because i think if you have to specify that you give a fuck about trans folk, Yr. doing something wrong. i do believe that gender as we know it should be restructured.

in order to eliminate male supremacy we'd have to radically reorder societys view on gender, because its set up specifically to target women & trans people. in my brain gender itself & the patriarchy go hand in hand. so what i dont understand, is how these people who claim to be "gender critical" CLING to biology so fucking hard.

their argument for trans folk (at least the few posts i read. i got disgusted and stopped reading) is that Yr. chromosomes effect every piece of Yr. biology. a HUGE radfem belief is that almost all of gender as we know it was taught to us. how can we "abolish" gender when you believe SO much in the biology aspect of "sex". i think if anything, trans people challenge the way we view gender and the way its taught to us, which is why theyre so important.

i'd also like to point out that this binary perspective on biology and sex leaves out any conversation of intersex people. is that Yr. "exception"?? it doesnt work like that.

another thought i had is that its extremely hypocritical to hate trans people for conforming to gender in a way that suits them best, when you do the SAME THING. you believe that feminism is for "women only", you believe in "womens rights before anything else", YOU GO BY SHE/HER PRONOUNS. is this not you conforming to gender? this "holier than thou" act is weird considering if you were TRULY at the peak of rejecting gender, you would reject anything regarding how we currently view it. do you expect trans people to be uncomfortable until we restructure gender, if that ever happens? Yr. all for abolishing gender until it challenges how you believe it should be done.

and my last point is that trans people make up less than 1% of our population. compare that to the percentage of men who cause direct violence to women EVERY DAY. which do you think is more important?

ok rant over if you read this far Yr. a real one. anyone who challenges my opinions in a way that could open the topic of whether or not trans people deserve to exist will be blocked. thanx

[deoidesign]

Someone killed my boss last night and he sent me this I'm so fired

god I can't wait to make this comic.

[lunarharp]

into the deep end - 30k T orufrey fic, focusing on memory trauma, disability, and romance.

the sweet oblivion of the victim, the poisoned freedom of the witch.

for one moment - it had felt like two parts returned - the needed reunion of two disparate halves. no more secrets, no more pain.

the moment you get to give back what you never wanted to take. that moment, under the night-blooming flowers, when they had both let out the same single broken sigh of relief.

but they were never whole to begin with, were they?

qifrey swore he wouldn't say 'sorry' to this man any more if he could help it - sorry is cheap now. he didn't want to be in a position ever again where you only have 'sorry' left. so he just looks down into the threads of his blanket, strains his eye until it hurts, feeling his insides - his throat, heart and head - burn with pain. he expects more, but olly says nothing.

olly says nothing.

[talkorsomething]

want to cut my hair again like you wouldn't believe. What are the possible consequences of going bald

[echidnana]

i think it took us so long to realize we have depression because we always attributed everything to our dissociation

[iniziare]

Re-tag drop: Yelan

[sleevebuscemii]

tmi

[ashmp3]

haterism is going to be strong in this post but i hateeeee pathetic weak people that victimize themselves. that kind of behaviour is just despicable to me it makes me ill im not joking. like one thing about me is i would rather die than let anyone feel sorry for me and seeing how some people willingly hope for it omfg...... no words. does it make me terrible person i dont know. but if youre like :( everyone hates me i am terrible arent i ....... my eye starts twitching and i am silent im not coddling you and now youre getting on my nerves so

[meateater-rabbit]

(dont read the tags actually)

[transurgender]

i wish i was better at character analysis because like. kabru (dunmeshi) and enrico (gayepo) are such similar characters it makes me want to Bite someone but the moment i try to explain how i feel my brain just gets fuckin fried. i think about either of them for 0.5 seconds and i explode on the spot

[lovrboyx]

body: ur hungry to the point of nausea

me: oh shit my b so if i eat something the nausea will stop right

body:

me: if i eat something the nausea will stop right

body: :)

[fleastinger]