#she's the reason they share their place

[tomatette]

Episode V

more [or click here for more roommate shenanigans]

[sapphorror]

Zim, Dib, Gaz, and Tak are actually all horribly vindictive spiteful people to more or less equal degrees, but the interesting thing is that Zim and Gaz both exact vengeance in very specific, premeditated ways, which are often wildly out of proportion but once they feel like they've evened the score they will pretty much immediately forget about whatever pissed them off in the first place—whereas Dib and Tak are both ostensibly above being ruled by petty grudges, but very obviously boiling over with a constant resentment that sends them pouncing like rabid dogs at even the slightest opportunity or excuse to make the object of their ire suffer (and if they're both working towards their own self-serving end game that just HAPPENS to involve every terrible thing imaginable befalling their enemies, well... that'll just be a happy by-product of their personal success).

I don't I have any point to make here, I just like it when these freaks are all an overwhelming danger to society (and each other)

[mymarifae]

hsr's a great game it's like "hey here's this guy who's a cyborg cowboy of all things isn't that fun. look at how wild and flamboyant and entertaining he is! an automatic censor was installed into his universal translator when he got his rockin robot bod so he can't swear anymore and this is especially funny in the cn and jp text of the game because his swears are replaced with things like sweetie, baby, and cutie."

"also his entire homeland was wiped out by the intergalactic capitalistic monolith that's been cruelly siphoning valuable resources from countless planets with little to absolutely no regard for the residents. they spared nothing once their boss gave them the go ahead to use military force. not even his baby daughter, who had just barely learned how to walk."

"he never got the chance to erect a grave for her. or the other loved ones he lost."

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I'm not ready to shut up about Aveline and Carver--so, when you go see Aveline in Act 1, you can catch up with her a little bit and that's where this conversation can happen:

Aveline: "It's just one more change, though. The real end for me was Ostagar. What about you, Carver? You were there. Do you feel something similar?" Carver: No. Aveline: All right, then. Bit of a tit, your brother.

I wanted to see what she would say if Carver isn't in the party. Instead, she says this:

Aveline: Carver was there. I imagine he feels something similar. If he allows it.

......well, at least she didn't call him a tit?

[lovelyrotter]

can ppl in this fandom like... stop... implying that transmasculinity in hcs or (especially) canon is shallow or misogynistic or even transmisogynistic on princible, like literally just by being prescent in someones mind or in the text. like that doesnt fuckin feel good. thats kind of really nasty to imply. if its not okay to say about other trans experiences, maybe dont say it about this one either. why is there a weird little exception here. yall KNOW how much that sucks to hear all day every day. what the fuck

[jacksprostate]

f Narrator wanting to murder maim mutilate m marla.. or marla/ male marla and narrator/f narrator worsties/besties. or marla/male marla and tyler… or anything with marla/ male marla..

Marlon called me, interrupted me at work, and he said he had a bruise. He said I needed to come and look at it right away, because he needed to know.

This was him, asking me, pounded flank steak, to look and tell him the nature of his bruise.

Marlon hasn't had health insurance in years, so he tries not to think about it, usually. It's easy, since there's no difference when you have health insurance. It's old hat.

But today, he thought about it.

And he noticed a bruise.

So I'm walking up to the Regent hotel after work, and he's in the lobby in his limp little tank top. He'd call it a wifebeater and imagine himself in place of the wife, I'm sure. I wonder if he isn't cold all the time. Mr. Marlon Singer, such a masochist just so he can show off his skeletal body with all the cigarette burns I have to hear him and Tyler laughing over.

I am Jane's abnormal hemorrhoid development.

He doesn't mention what Tyler and I stole from him, even though I think it was all the cash he had. Even though just three days ago he tried to chase me around the house and beat me with a broom. He made me and Tyler go sleep in the junkyard. Buried under our furs, howling at the moon. Maybe I can't fault him for that.

He couldn't keep it here where the guys he brings back could get at it, he said, and sure. But he should've known better than to tell Tyler about it, because now it's bags upon bags of lye being kept in the driest room in the house.

I work on grinding cracks into my remaining teeth as he grabs his neighbors Agatha and Dianne's Meals on Wheels kits. The delivery lady remarks on what a good young man Marlon must be, helping out these old ladies. Oh, yeah. A real, upstanding, mummified rat of a man. Maybe he helped them into the ditch. He yaps at me the entire walk up to his room, and I don't hear a word as I methodically rip up the skin around Tyler's kiss on my hand with a broken nail. It's been infected since Tuesday, and the ring of puffy red flesh makes the ghost of her lips white like the center of a neon tube. Always buzzing.

We get to his room, he says to me, "One of these boxes is for you, you know."

I think about all the women who bother to use what little time they have to operate charities that keep the poor and destitute alive enough to want to kill themselves. All that time spent cooking mac and cheese en masse and putting little packets of powdered milk next to little cartons of the liquid, like they get at schools and prisons, packets that can only be opened by the nimble fingers of caring relatives these elderly recipients do not have.

Sure.

Tyler told me I need to be eating at least two meals a day, or she'd steal a blender and make me drink raw chicken. So I eat the Meals on Wheels box. Sorry Agatha. I rip open the powdered milk packet, dump it into the carton, hold it closed, and shake it. Twice the calories. A recipe for palliative care.

Marlon's sitting there, quiet, eating Dianne's latest last meal. All the urgency is gone. Sucked dry. He's got pallor like a hospice heart failure. When dogs get treated for heartworms, the worms die, and sometimes, not all of them break apart. Sometimes, there will be thin, dead cords of necrotized nematode strung through their heart waiting for the right beat to fall apart and clot a vital artery. This can take years to happen. Your pet recovers perfectly from treatment until seven years down the line, you give it a doggy cupcake and a pulmonary embolism for its tenth birthday.

Marlon looks like he's had his first melarsomine injection and his owner is thinking about taking him to a dog park instead of bothering with the second. If you let a dog get its heart rate up too high when getting treated for all the parasites you let grow in it, its heart will explode. Or all the worms will clog its lungs. Whichever one it is, it's happening to Marlon here in this room. On this bed.

He says he'd found a bruise, a while back. A nasty little thing, like the crush of a plum under your thumb. Near one of his ankles. And Marlon Singer knew he couldn't afford any novel treatments, and he'd seen too many people rot from the inside out from them already. He did not go to the clinic down the street that gets its windows broken in often enough that there's just big black billowing sails of trashbags over their storefront more often than not. Marlon says he once saw a rat nailed to the door, which is something you'd think would be too neat and poetic for real life. He didn't go to the clinic because he didn't have to. And maybe if he was fucking guys he wanted to he would be a bit more cautious, but the men Marlon Singer gets to fuck are the type to have given him those bruises in the first place. They're the reason there's single mothers visiting that clinic, like half melted wax getting scraped out of the picture. He says he shouldn't feel guilty.

I tell Marlon about where I got the idea for poisoning all the food at the Pressman hotel.

He asks me what I mean by that, and I tell him about my first boss at the company I work for now.

When I first started there, I was selling our cars to companies. Bulk orders for work vehicles. My job was to not fuck up any contracts we already had. Marlon is probably aware, but the type of man involved in that sort of thing, he knows he's got you on a collar and chain. You and him both know he'll be renewing the contract, but you have to do the song and dance for him. Pretend you like how close he gets to you. Pretend you don't want to rip his testicles from his ballsack when he leans in sweaty and tells you how he likes your hair, did you go and do all that just for me?

Because he knows. And you know. But enduring this is what you were hired to do. If you were a man, you would've been hired to create a sense of the old boys club with this guy. But you're not.

There is so much pretense in the world.

Anyway, my first boss, call him Joe — whenever I'd return from those trips and dinners, Joe wouldn't pretend that it wasn't a shit job. He'd commiserate and wish me luck with the next one. He didn't overstep, he wasn't creepy, he kept his distance. The best you could hope for. Thirty days on the job, they asked me how I was doing, and I told them I was doing great. The job was amazing, I felt embraced by the company, my boss was great. One of those things was true to me.

And when Joe got his promotion, for being such a great regional manager, he cornered me in my cubicle and informed me he'd been jerking off into my nicely labeled thin salad lunches each time they showed up in the office fridge. He told me this with the same smile he'd always worn.

Marlon, he's next to me, and he leans closer like we're having a nice little confession. My skin itches.

It was before the 90 day clause kicked in my health coverage, so I had to wait at one of those free clinics like Marlon's, and I was surrounded by a lot of young men, wispy mangled pears. What little flesh was left was soft. When I told the nurse what happened, I watched myself die in her eyes. Dappling up with rashes and bruises until I was all painted and sunken like a bog body.

For the longest time, I wondered if I'd become the oral Mary. How many times I vomited in that office toilet, I don't know. I stopped bringing lunch.

The thing is, I couldn't see it in his face. Joe's, I mean. Not even when he told me. I couldn't see it in anyone. So I stopped eating out. Stopped eating altogether, really.

Marlon, his response was to go to the support groups. His tragedy was that it was a slow death, coming for him. Best to wriggle into the pile of dying bodies, see what it's like. Maybe that could muster enough suicidal impulse.

I tell Marlon, of course, I couldn't go to HR. I was a new hire with no evidence and previous record of liking my boss. I didn't want to tell my mom. I didn't want her to know. Those uncomfortable dinners became absolutely, wretchedly unbearable as I thought about the food I was being forced to share.

When the option came up for a dead end job in the least loved department in the building, I put on the best performance of my life to get the part. Best aspiring Compliance and Liability head and sole department employee, that's me. My new job was to keep secrets. It was, already, old hat.

For months I thought about waking up from a narcoleptic fit at my desk, with Joe leaning over the cubicle wall and asking if I was alright. I watched my stomach like it was nuclear. Every extra second it took until I bled like usual slid me closer to buying myself a shotgun and pumping a slug or two into my brain.

It's an unavoidable fear, I tell Marlon. You can't do anything about it. Once you know, you know. At some point, you have to find the peace in it. Imagine yourself, a balloon popping with meaty chunks flying apart, splattering onlookers and raining viscera.

For a month, six months, I had cancer. Worse than cancer. Every time I eat out, I get it again.

Marlon is looking at me, melting stained glass, drowning in that sort of shared pity you build together with someone who's dying.

I don't want Marlon to feel guilty.

I tell Marlon, that's why I poison the food at the Pressman hotel. Someone's got to do it. Blood in the tomato sauce, spit on the steak. Imagine what you could do to a soup. The men who go to the Pressman hotel, they're the kind that leave Marlon bloody and walking around Paper Street calling for Tyler to come out and burn more holes into him. They're the kind that get promoted from regional manager. They're the kind that lean in close, pull your wrist towards them, and say there's one way they know you could secure the contract renewal. The kind that almost ruin it in a temper tantrum when you don't, resulting in an upper management intervention on the 24th day of your new job. They're the kind that hear that shit and say you should've been more appeasing. More polite.

Don't feel guilty, Marlon.

I hope all of them rot so everyone can see the maggots eating their insides.

Marlon isn't smiling. I am unavoidably bad at distracting him. There's something final in it, when he sighs, and takes off his tank top. He says it's on his back, and I should just tell him.

I look. I see it. Black hole, botfly, necrosis. There's so many things these broken blood vessels could be. Withering, snapping apart like mummified heartworms. I imagine driving the two inch melarsomine needle deep into the muscles bunched upon his spine.

I look.

I press my hands into him, and I grip like I'm trying to rend my fingers through his skin, deep into his body cavity to rip out his guts. Like I'm trying to grab the rope of his small intestine and strangle him with it. Marlon's yelling at me and trying to hit me, arms flapping like a chicken, and I am bruising ten deep circles into the soft pearskin of his abdomen. It's the only place left on him that's mealy, that isn't frayed rope under worn out leather.

I tell him, you've got bruises. They look mostly normal, to me.

Don't worry too much about it.

And Marlon, he leans into me, and I let him.

[recallthename]

y'all ever think how the thesis of buffy at the end was that the only ethical choice when a person holds an extreme amount of power (even if that person has been shown to be selfless and smart and strong) is not to keep it, but to share it

[pvlvsdog]

how easy or hard is it to make the sinners finish? also are you fine with yandere stuff? I want to ask before requesting. Also if your requests aren’t open then feel free to ignore.

Oh my! I made a whole tier list with a friend^^ just need to pull it up. Over half the credit goes to the skinny dipping ask anon, haiii^^ also I’m all good with yandere stuff. I just might have difficulty with certain characters (base ID for Greg to name one, that might not be very long if I’m asked to write something about him; I’ll still write about him, but there’s not a lot to work with for the yandere theme in my eyes) but I will absolutely write it^^ also you will get bonus characters. Because it’s fun^^

TW: 18+, UNEDITED

Not finishing (sorry!):

Faust - sorry but I don’t think she ever came during sex. You can use toys or she can do the job herself and that works, but that’s it honestly. It’s not that you’re doing something wrong, she’s still choosing to spend time with you in that way, but I just think she would finish from touching herself. After all Faust knows Faust the best

Takes a long while:

Ryoshu - it’s not hard to make her finish but if you rush it, she won’t react well. It’s a whole process, getting to that first orgazm. She likes playing around before it, holding it off until she’s satisfied with the act. Like, she won’t ignore you in favour of her pleasure, she wants the both of you to get the most out of this. Which means neither of you is finishing quick, sorry

Sonya - also not that easy. He’s a chill guy, he doesn’t seem like he would mind. He likes you and it was a decent time either way, so it’s not a big issue if he didn’t come. I just feel like, despite his easygoing demeanour, if anything from the book carries over to the game, he miiight have a hard time letting himself be vulnerable during sexual encounters. Participates still, but it’s not a carefree ordeal and it makes orgasming harder. Can use his hand just fine though and doesn’t consider it a wasted night

Demian - kinda hard. Like, I just feel like it would be hard for him to reach a release, but he’d be damned if he still didn’t try. He’s fairly confident and knows himself well, so he has no problem guiding you a little so both of you can orgasm. With his tips it’s not really hard. Side note, but I feel like the experience you’d get is worth it, come on, in the book he’s such an agent of chaos it’s iconic. Yeah he’s calm. But like, if I asked that man to tie my shoes he could as well run off with my shoelaces to prove some point he made earlier hhh

Last above average:

Verg - kinda hard? Like, it’s easier than with the ones above, but you will have to put some effort into pleasing him. He’s guarded and keeps most at an arm’s length so to have a genuine sexual encounter with you, he needs to trust and know you a bit. I don’t think he would be a 10/10 at communicating so you also wouldn’t have a lot to go off of. It changes with time, the communication part, but he still takes a bit to finish

Ishmael - she takes some time as well. I think she’s pretty experienced and has had many amazing as well as mediocre encounters so given that range, don’t expect to just waltz into her room and make her scream your name upon your touch. Good thing is, she has a good idea about what works, just take her suggestions and you’ll get there (she’ll do to ;3). Other component could be the fact that she often doesn’t feel comfortable letting her guard down and not being in control. So, especially if you’re more dominant, I could see some issues stemming from that early on, because as open as she would be to give things a try, if you’re a more dominant person, it could be difficult for her to work with. Not your fault, just give her some time. In bed and outside of it

Hong Lu - I can’t explain it much, I just think it’s not super easy as well. Again, you won’t have him panting and moaning just from doing the bare minimum, but let our curious man explore, make it worth a while, and he’ll reach an orgasm at his pace

Kromer - takes a bit too. She’s pretty horny with a high sex drive but she likes to have her time with you. Likes that you have you to try a bit before she’ll come too

Standard timing 😌😌:

Dante - i feel like they have a pretty average timing. Perhaps it would be faster but they overthink a bit and it’s all a little bit „new”. They don’t even fully know (or well, remember) what they like so that also plays a role. Again, it’s easier than with the characters above but they don’t come super fast

Yi Sang - also pretty much within what you would expect, you have to get him a bit worked up, it’s not as long of a process as it is with some other sinners, but definitely enough for you two to get a bit creative with the foreplay and such

Meursault - I think we just figured getting him placed in the middle of the tier is just funny considering his demeanour. That man is the standard, the average, the perfect representation of the mean. Sex with him definitely isn’t vanilla, I just think he finishes at a very predictable timing, never having you too worked up but also not rushing it

Hopkins - adding him as a silly bonus, I just think it’s funny he stuck in my brain. He also takes a pretty expected amount of time, he has to have some solid foreplay but it’s not like, really hard for you to get him to finish. Just let him have his fun first

Fairly easy:

Don - if you know where her „weaknesses” lay (and it’s not a difficult thing, she’s pretty obvious, I think. Again, I’m keeping in mind how easily she gave herself away when she was questioned about her feelings on being beaten up in CIII, that woman was stuttering like crazy. So like, just go for whatever flusters her and that’s your cue as to what you should do during sex) it’s a very short road from there to having her orgasm. Being easily excitable seems to seep into that part of her life as well :3

Rodya - she knows herself well and is used to putting herself first (since life taught her that if you don’t, nobody else might. Not so say she isn’t a generous person when she can, but like, it is often something she does for attention or praise in general, I think sex is a bit of a different case) so her objective is to have a good time. It might change as you two grow closer, but for the main part she just uses her own knowledge in what gets her off and works from there. Not saying you don’t have to put any work in on your part, but she will make it very easy. If she wants to have sex with you, at least before you two get closer, it’s so that she can have a release, so that will be her main priority. She’ll be nice to you sure, she knows how to be sweet and charming, even when there’s sweat rolling down her face and her back is arching while she adjusts your hands to grip her just right. But before she’s ready to be vulnerable, the sex is more so to fulfil her needs (coming, feeling important, so on) than to grow closer to you

Outis - my funny explanation is “fast but only if you’re Dante” but my actual reasoning for saying that she would be rather quick to finish is that I think it’s been so long and she’s so pent up that it just makes sense. Like, she’s not about to ask for sex from just anyone, she ignores that need too much. So when she finally has sex with you, oh, she clearly means it and has been wanting to do so for a very long time. All in all, she’s on the brink anyways so getting her off is a very easy task

Gregor - that man is starved and kind of easily… well affected by your actions, let’s say. He has no real experience with being desired by someone so you don’t have to try much to get him worked up. Your honest advances and the way you treat him oftentimes leave him exasperated (he can’t believe over the half of things you’re saying, especially given that he would probably make you aware how his modifications will affect any intimate relationship you might want to have with him), but he’d be lying if he said that whatever you were doing wasn’t working. Like, he’s not surprised he’s into it, he just can’t believe that you would want to make such advances towards him in the first place. Honestly if it wasn’t for his self deprecation and fear of hurting you, he’d be on the bottom tier. But those dark thoughts accompany him even when he’s being intimate (or, well, especially then) so he’s still only somewhat below average. He probably blames it on his stamina (which also could be a factor, he’s not as senile as he makes himself out to be but he certainly does struggle keeping up in bed) and probably mumbles something about being “too old for this” and how “you’re going to end him if you keep doing things like this” (his very roundabout way of saying that you affect him greatly). So, with all that in mind, he doesn’t last very long. The only thing keeping him from coming undone upon your touch is concern for your safety should his body act up because of the strong emotions you cause him to feel

Gotta go fast (sorry):

Heathcliff - not sorry about putting him in this category, only sorry for the joke. I mean, that man is pent up, worked up and so, so oblivious to his own feelings that you won’t be having any troubles with making him come. I mean, for the past few years he dedicated himself to the thought of what could (or in this case - couldn’t) be and his ability to reflect and own up to the fact that you’re making him feel a very specific kind of way is hindered as a result. That man could get a raging boner every time you touch him and he still would hold off on reflecting on his feelings. So when he’s finally in a position to have sex with you, you will have him all worked up in record time. Heaving, panting with drops of sweat rolling down his forehead. He desires you greatly, even if he has a hard (hihi) time admitting that (well, that would mean that his whole… thing was a waste of time and also would call into question if he was ever wanted by the person he’s been chasing this whole time, I mean, he couldn’t imagine having her act towards him in the same way you do. Which… well, he doesn’t love the thought). That and his lack of experience with all things sexual leads him to release around the time you’re trying to get started. He tries to last longer and he won’t leave you hanging if he doesn’t. Well… I can certainly tell you that he won’t. But he’s going to try anyways. Just don’t tease him about it, that might actually work in the opposite way. Or do tease him, if that’s what you’re into ;3

Sinclair - if you two getting heated, you’re already halfway done with making him come. He gets horny easily and fast, but usually (always, prior to meeting you probably) his hand has to do. And in the book he is quite filled with thoughts of pretty sexual nature (that are quite a cause of his shame). But insecurity and guilt play a part here too, making him believe that he doesn’t really deserve to experience nice things like that. So when you’re so close to him, something he fantasizes about quite often, it’s making him overwhelmed in the best, most alien way. All the thoughts that could hold him back are gone and instead he is overcome with lust. Which then leads to a very fast release. Just like Heath, I totally see him worked up, heaving and absolutely coming undone. Buuut with the way he is, I don’t think it’s just him being all shy and cumming cutely just to lay down and stutter out a ‘thank you’. That lad is filled with so much anger issues and unprocessed, strong emotions that what you are more likely to get is an extremely horny, awkward, rough encounter and after you blink he’s done and in the process of folding under the weight of post nut clarity (saying this lovingly, not to be biased as the author of this, but this is absolutely a ‘would’ for me. I just don’t think he’s what you would consider… conventionally “good”. Which is subjective, even if there is a ‘popular version’ of what good sex should look like)

[sparklecryptid]

@raven-6-10 said: I do!

So

Gilmîreth. She (unlike my other Caranthir/Haleth OCs) gets to know both of her parents. She grows up with Haleth and then when Haleth passes she forgoes a bid for leadership and due to rising tensions between the Haladin and those under Thingol's rule she returns to the lands the Haladin first settled and her fathers men meet her and go

'oh'

'oh shit'

and she is promptly taken to caranthir who has gone from 'no i have no children' to 'father???? IM A DAD' in two seconds flat.

Things are good.

Until they go bad. Until she finds out that her mothers house has Fallen and that the people responsible for the fall are Dead.

She (against the advice of her father and her uncles) tries to return to get some closure

and is promptly captured by Morgoth who in a true 'im on a role' fashion curses her. Her connection to her house will be forfeit because no one will remember that there is a daughter of the house of Feanor. No one will remember her.

No one will come looking for her. And when she does finally find a way out, when she is finally free -

his words ring true.

no one remembers her. her uncles look at her like she's a stranger and her father is dead.

There is nothing left for her.

She lives on regardless.

[thedreadvampy]

My housemate is moving out in January

She told us this a week or two ago, when she sat down and, after sitting with us watching TV for over an hour, said "hey so I bought a house and I'm moving out. We agreed on 2 months notice so I won't move until the end of January."

The last time she talked in the immediate terms about buying a house was in 2021, when the sale she was working on fell though and she was unemployed so it was a "when I'm back in a position to look I'll start looking again." Since then I've occasionally asked her how she's doing on the house buying front and she's been like "oh I'm getting there financially" but hasn't mentioned anything concrete.

She didn't tell us she was looking at places. She didn't tell us she had put in an offer. She told us when the offer was finalised. A week AFTER she emailed the letting agent about getting out of her part of the lease. And, it increasingly feels like, only because the letting agent's response was that we had to agree to change the lease.

The letting agent's response (which our housemate obviously didn't copy us into; we had to follow up separately and they copied us into the email chain) also includes that when we change the lease, they're empowered to change the rent, quote, "no cap". Rent was already going up in January - there's no possibility of Sam and I paying her share of the rent.

The really fucking upsetting thing is we're not strangers. This isn't a casual "housemate we found on flatshare" thing. She and Sam have lived together literally their entire adult lives. Me and her have known each other well over a decade. I lived in her and Sam's flat when I was homeless. We were the first people she came out to as trans. We're not super close but I thought we were fucking friends. And she's literally gone out of her way to not talk to us about this for what must have been months while the sale completed - which means she's lied to my face at least once cause I've asked her about her finances in that time (cause she's in a job she hates that she only took to get the house money, so it's like. when we've been commiserating about work stuff I'm often asking 'are you almost free?'). she literally went out of her way to talk to the letting agents before talking to us about putting us in a situation where we could lose our fucking home.

And she keeps. trying. to pretend nothing's happened. Every time I've seen her since then she's not mentioned anything or apologised or anything, she just keeps chatting away and offering hugs and fistbumps like nothing's happened. Like we're still fucking friends.

All it would take for us to still be friends and to be happy for her would have been one fucking sentence in the groupchat like "hey, just put an offer in on a house" or "I'm looking at properties, just so you know, that might happen in the next few months". Like nobody begrudges her for buying a house! It's very cool for her! She's 31 she's worked really hard to get the money I would love to be happy for her! Unfortunately she decided avoiding conflict is more important than giving the people she fucking LIVES WITH (who btw fronted her a month on the rent here while she was unemployed and agreed to take on a larger proportion of the move-in cost back in 2021, if we're still holding ourselves to shit we said 2.5 years ago), so no, you are not entitled to our friendship or to going back to normal.

like if she'd been honest with us it would have been something to process but we'd have had time to figure out our next steps. instead she's left us in a position where we have to find a new roommate before she gives her one month notice, which means finding someone by the end of December, which oh look that's the middle of the fucking Christmas holidays. and she didn't tell us anything until the START of December, or copy us into her conversation with the letting agent, meaning we still don't know what the rent on that space will be so we aren't yet in a position to advertise it. Has she offered to help find a roommate? Has she fuck. Has she offered to help out by moving her move-out date? Nah, she's moving as soon as she gets the keys because, quote, "that means her finances won't have to change". SOUNDS LOVELY. NOT HAVING YOUR FINANCES SUDDENLY CHANGE. I THINK THAT SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY REASONABLE FUCKING GOAL.

Thirteen fucking years she's lived with Sam. Four fucking weeks over Christmas she's left us to figure out a way to not turbofuck our living situation. And she's got the fucking nerve to try and pretend we should be interacting like nothing's changed. Jesus Christ. What a fucking unhinged way to treat...anybody, honestly. never mind the friends-your-entire-adult-life part. literally cannot imagine a scenario in which I would buy a house without telling the people I lived with.

(haha actually this is what my parents divorced over so apparently it's not unusual. although at least my dad had the decency to tell the woman he shared finances with at the point he put in an offer not the point the fucking sale went through.)

Like we'll be fine. It's a huge city centre flat with decent rent and queer housemates, hopefully even when the rent goes up it'll be an easy sell in a city with a huge housing shortage and big queer community. We've got a couple of people interested already, sight unseen - worst case scenario we have to live with someone we don't get on with. And it's given Sam and me a push to look at our own finances and as of today, we've got a mortgage decision in principle and can start looking at flats in the area - mind, we'll be transparent upfront and tell any prospective housemates that yeah, we're looking to buy and move out in the next 6-12 months, and we'll tell them if we put an offer in, because we're decent fucking people who aren't going to spring that on someone out of the blue.

But it's been I think 2 weeks and I'm so fucking angry I could spit. It's such a fucking betrayal. And frankly you know selfishly like. I just had a breakup a couple of months ago, I'm in the middle of moving jobs, both me and Sam have a history of housing instability and this has been the first decent, stable, safe, not-mouldy not-freezing home I think any of us have had, and this is so fucking triggering and upscuttling I could just start biting. like I was talking to my friend about it last week and it's just like. Can I have One Fucking Thing of the three main tentpoles of survival - home, work, relationships - that are fucking stable right now? because shit has been In Flux lately. and at least the work and relationship stuff has changed because of my decisions. going through all that work to make myself short-term unstable to gain long-term stability has been really hard and draining and then just as I was reaching the crisis point with work stuff BOOM, IT'S HOUSING INSTABILITY WITH A STEEL CHAIR. fuck. seriously fuck this and fuck her. we're going to make something good come of it but what a deeply, unbelievably shitty thing to do.

[topicaltropic]

oops! all wips

[shiftperception]

man I see these posts about stopping negative thought loops by talking to yourself like a stern parent or jokingly saying “drop it” like a dog. and if it works for you it works, but the way it’s the only dynamic I’ve seen in these type of posts disturbs me a little if we’re being honest. my own head is the only place I never have to be “redirected” or silenced by parental figures if I don’t want to be, and conceptualizing myself as a trained animal (while funny) isn’t very appealing either. I know those posts mean it in a nice ‘healing’ way and all but I just wonder why humans turn to these authority based dynamics so quickly. Is the only way we know how to ���help” someone by declaring them unworthy of the agency we grant ourselves so we can arbitrarily command them to stop doing things that make us uncomfortable? to the point where we even do it to ourselves in our own minds? genuine philosophical question

[iangallagherisadeadman]

Don't you guys think it's fucked up when Fiona starts dating and sleeping out of the house, leaving Debbie, Carl and Liam kind of for themselves?

Once she started dating Mike she would sleep at his place sometimes which I think it's okay, she was paying the bills and would leave dinner ready and communicate Debs and she was still looking out for them, they had health care and she took them to the clinic and all that. She needs to take care of her, live a life, sleep at her boyfriend sometimes, that's fine and healthy. But then she marry Gus and is often out of there, get together with Sean and doesn't even know what's going on with them anymore (aka "why there's nothing to eat in the fridge" "cause no one is doing the shopping" dialogue with Debbie, not knowing when it's their first day at school, letting Sammy move in and run things after her trailer got fucked by Frank), and then she gets her apartment and moves out completely and like, okay, Ian was a EMT, Lip is a mechanic already I think, she did said she wasn't going to support Debbie after her pregnancy (fucked me thinks), Carl's at military school, but Liam is still a kid! And Debs and Carl are still underage! And they are her responsibility.

It just doesn't sit right with me that Liam didn't at least moved with her.

Specifically Fiona defenders, I would love to hear more about it.

[neredoesnotfail]

❛ do not forget what i am.  ❜ // @lcftyambiticns

"And what is that?" the drow questions with a mocking not-quite-smile, that telltale [ patronizing ] sing-song to his voice.

His head canted slightly to one side, he continues, pondering the potential answers aloud.

"A ne'er-do-well? A cad? A wizard of... questionable renown? A mere mortal hoping to cast off his mortality? What, precisely, is it that you wish us to remember that you are?"

[sadbeautifutragic]

.

[set-wingedwarrior]

So, here's my plan:

I am going write down everything I'm doing around the house for the next few months, making sure that I do everyhing PERFECTLY, following EVERY SINGLE RULE my roomate made up, and even signing all the dates where I am not in the house (like when I am in my hometown, or even when it's a full day in university if I go out early morning and come back late evening) just to make sure that the times I got nothing done I got a valid reason (I fucking wasn't there).

I am going to do all of this, writing everything down as backup because my memory is shit, and the next time my roomate acts like a bitch and complains about whatever the drama of the day is I am going ballistic. I will have my backup and I will be ready to defend myself with concrete proof because I AM DONE.

And if she's still acting all cold and resentful, all because last time I dared to defend myself and talk back, then she's the problem. And I will tell her to her fucking face: if you're not able to see a genuine attempt at making things right and the good will to want make up for past mistakes (even if she fucking exagerated them, but I will cut this part out for the sake of peace), and everything is always bad and wrong, then you are the problem.

It's not my fault if you're never happy, and it's not my job to make you feel better.